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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
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[WP] Aliens have arrived and have been eating humans like a delicacy. An alien chef gets more than he bargained for when he tries to cook Gordon Ramsay, who surprisingly is less disgusted THAT he is being cooked than over HOW he is being cooked.
|
Narrator: The first order of the day is in and it's a big one. Char broiled human with a side of rizzotto. Xaxnon goes to the refrigerator to get his first human, but little does he know there's a surprise in store for him.
Xaxnon pulls out Gordon from a group of cowering humans.
Xax: Come on, you're next!
Gordon: Excuse me! EXCUSE ME! How long have I been in there?
Xax: Time is not relevant for food!
Gordon: Time isn't relevant for food? Are you fucking kidding me? You know this invasion was weeks ago. How are any of us still good?
Xax: You're fine, I thawed you out this morning.
Gordon: I was frozen!?
Xax: No... yes, I mean you were brought in fresh, so you're fresh-frozen.
Gordon: Fresh-frozen? That's not a real word. You're either fresh or you're frozen. You froze me, I'm fucking frozen. How'd you thaw me out?
Xax: We have an advanced cryogenic reanimator that emits high frequency microwaves that-
Gordon: I've been fucking microwaved? Oh you gotta be fucking kidding me! You know what a microwave does to meat? Dries it out! No wonder I've been leaking so much water. And frozen, AH! Look at this!
Gordon lifts his shirt up revealing a black spot on his stomach.
Gordon: I'm fucking frostburn. You're going to serve this?
Xax: You're fine, come on now I have to toss you into the oven!
Gordon: ...holy shit...
Gordon begins to walk away.
Xax: Where are you going?
Gordon walks over to the cryo freezers where dozens of humans are frozen in horrid and grotesque poses.
Gordon: Holy shit... look at the condition of this freezer!
Gordon pushes the iced humans aside and pulls out aluminum trays full of severed human limbs and organs. He sets it to the side and pulls out another tray of the same only it's much much older with a film of old greasy oils and green splotches over it.
Gordon: Absolutely disgusting! How long has it been since you cleaned this place?
Xax: I-
Gordon pulls out a skull with half the face decomposed.
Gordon: Ah! Ugh! How long's this been in here? There's no way this is up to code.
CUT - SINGLE CAMERA INTERVIEW MIXED WITH FOOTAGE OF CHEF RAMSAY DRAINING OLD ROTTEN HUMAN BLOOD AND GUTS OUT OF OLD ALUMINUM TRAYS.
Xax (talking to the camera): I knew I was in for a rough night, but when the human started going through the back of the freezer... I was just so embarrassed. I honestly forgot most of that stuff was in there... I mean I know there's no excuse, but...
Xax lets out an exasperated sigh and looks away.
Xax (tears stream out of his ears, which is normal for his species): It's just so hard to keep this place together sometimes.
CUT - BACK TO THE SCENE
Narrator: Xax the Chef is already behind on his order of broiled human, but the food itself is having none of it.
Gordon: Do you know what would happen if I reported this?
Xax: Nothing, we destroyed your government!
Gordon: Look at yourself... are you proud of what you serve? Why are you a chef?
Xax: ...I enjoy cooking.
Gordon: You think they enjoy eating this?
Xax: I just...
Gordon: You gotta look at reality Xax. It can't be that hard to find a decent place serving humans around here. Now look outside, how many orders do you have tonight? Just one so far. Be honest with me, you're struggling.
Xax (crying): We just can't afford the staff-
Gordon puts his hand on Xax's tentacle.
Gordon: I know you're having problems. I see them. But cutting corners is not going to fix anything, it's only going to make things worse. Look at me.
Xax looks up at Gordon.
Gordon: We can do this Xax, and I'm here to help.
CUT TO
A naked human man wakes up on a butchering table. Looks up and starts screaming. A meat cleaver comes down and chops his head off.
Gordon, holding the bloody cleaver, tosses the head to Xax.
Gordon: There, nice and quick kill. Hold onto the head, we'll save it for sweetbreads. Now lets get this skin off, you're going to want to get to that liver first. Now, how's that rizzotto coming along?
Xax: Just took it out of the freezer chef.
Gordon rolls his eyes.
Gordon: Toss it, just get some fresh mushrooms and start chopping.
Xax: You got it chef.
|
'I'M FUCKING RAW!' screamed the strange human lying in my pan, as I sprinkled an array of spices over him with a flourish. I have to admit, I'd expected resistance, but not *this* kind of resistance.
'I know that, I'm, I'm not finished yet...' I began, speaking into my translator device and attempting to retain composure as beads of sweat began to form across my forehead.
'OH COME ONNNN, IS THIS A FUCKING JOKE? HAVE YOU EVER EVEN MADE HUMAN BEFORE? AWWW YOU'RE BURNING MY RIGHT-SIDE FOR GODSAKE'
I whipped the human on to his left side quickly, chagrined that he was correct in his observation. After years of frying the delicious humans, never had one actively criticized my cooking technique. Usually they'd scream in terror, rather than exasperation.
'HEY, UGLY, YES YOU, WHAT ARE YOU PLANNING ON DOING WITH THAT?!' wailed the angry creature as I hovered a shaker of green-spice, native to my world, above him. 'YOU CAN'T ADD VALERYRN GREEN-SPICE TO FRIED HUMAN, YOU DONKEY, COME ONNNNNNNNNN, GET A GRIP, SERIOUSLY'
| 2017-03-28T10:37:00 | 2017-03-28T07:58:26 | 5,667 | 3,832 |
[WP] You attend the Magic School for the Gifted. Hooray... That is until you realize everyone there is a Mary Sue Chosen One with their own prophecy to fulfill. And you... aren't.
|
"Man, that girl is *crazy,*" Hikari said.
"*Which* girl?" I replied dryly. "The one who can summon things just by imagining them, the one who's half-angel, half-demon, and half-vampire, or the one who has a harem of seven loyal mage-knights fighting for her affection?"
St. Mary's Academy for the Magically Gifted had a lot of ridiculous students. Chosen Ones destined to save the world, who could have fate or the gods themselves step in if they seemed to be losing. Abnormal mages who had inborn talents that broke the already-loose rules of magic, letting them cast spells to rival archmages. Half-breeds and monsters of every kind, all of whom were incredibly powerful and good-looking despite their angst about being "cursed" or "caught between two worlds." And then there were people like my friend, who didn't have any obvious superhuman abnormality but were just weirdly successful and attractive.
"The three halves girl. I'm not going to make myself an *eighth* wheel in Katheryn's circus. But Faith is just... *intense.* She has this aura about her that's, like..."
"Like she has more power in her than should be physically possible? You don't say."
"I was going to say, scary but also really hot. I was stammering like an idiot when I talked to her."
"Well, you managed to talk to her and not get immediately flattened by her aura, so that puts you ahead of like, 90% of the student body. Just... be yourself, right?"
Really, what other advice could you give to a student here? You're living a charmed life. Just be yourself, everything is going to work out just fine. In a week, Faith would be hanging off Hikari's arm, glad to have finally found someone who accepts her for who she is. I couldn't even be mad at him for it - he really *was* a good person.
It was just... I wasn't on the same level. When we studied magic, my spells were textbook. I knew the spells that a first-year mage should - the foundations of reinforcement, analysis, alteration, destruction, and projection. I was about average in phys ed, I got mostly B's in mundane studies. By the school's standards, I was an average student. But compared to the *actual student body,* I felt pathetic.
"Be myself... Thanks, Dave, I think that helps." Hikari wandered off.
"Hey, Dave! Can I talk to you about our projection homework?"
I turned to see Cynthia plop into the seat next to me at the table. "My magic has been doing this weird... tingly thing when I cast bigger spells. Like, it feels like *there's a raging sea of power inside me waiting to be unleashed*, ya know? Has that been happening for you too? I'm not sure if I'm casting the spell wrong or what. But, uh, a friend said you were pretty good at textbook stuff so I thought we could compare notes?"
I sighed heavily. "No, my spells don't surge with terrifying power. Really wish they did, that sounds cool."
"Really? It doesn't feel cool to me. It feels like *at any minute my fury could spill forth and devastate...*" Her long, blonde hair started to float behind her, glowing faintly.
"Yeah, yeah, heard that one before."
She stopped short, hair falling back into place. "You *have?*"
"You, Dante, Anastasia, and Mirembe all have some flavor of that. Mirembe is trying to keep it a secret, but the other two haven't really been subtle."
"I thought I was the only one who... You know *four* people who have hidden magical talents?"
"I know *eight,* but only four who say they feel like they're going to lose control over their talent. You should really form a support group or something."
"Wow, thanks. I didn't know you knew so much about the other students."
I shrugged. "People just... tell me things. I'll just be sitting in the lunchroom and people will be like 'you wouldn't believe the day I had.' And then they'll tell me about some sort of insane mahou shoujo adventure where they fought demons under the school or something. Makes me wonder what I'm doing with my life, if that's what everyone else does with their free time."
"Wow, I bet you pick up a lot of stuff. You're like, some kind of high school information broker."
I blinked at her in shock. "That's not... normal? You all don't talk about your mystic destinies and stuff?"
"Jeez, no. Imagine if someone found out about the *dark power lurking inside me* and..."
"I get it. I'm boring enough that you figure I won't cause trouble. Anyway, go talk to Dante, he seems to be pretty on top of things with his demonic blood."
I watched Cynthia leave, pondering what she said to me.
"An information broker, huh?" It was the first time someone had said there was anything special about me.
|
I am gifted. People have told me that. But after spending a day at the Magic School for the gifted, I can say only this: I am gifted with mediocrity!
These people around me, they are so perfect. And they all know what they're doing, and what they want to do later in life. Me? I'm "gifted" with confusion, awkwardness, shyness, and all that "Humane talent" as they call it around here.
What're the benefits of these "Humane talents" you ask? Why there are many: stubbed toes, burnouts, freakouts, missing steps on the stairs, being perpetually confused, and angry, and anxious, and ... I could go on forever. Of course, you already know that -- how stupid of me. Another humane talent, I suppose.
"I envy you," that's what the bound for glory Doctor Gwen said to me today.
"Huh? You're envious ... of this?"
"Yes. I am. What wonderful talents you have Miss Banks," she said and smiled.
Yeah, smile you slimy, sarcastic, b.... Wait, I'm not supposed to say that. Nor did I say anything like it anyway. Like a good girl resigned to such mockery I just said, "Yeah." Like a corpse would. Wait, corpses don't speak, what's wrong with me today.
"I mean it. You're so free. You don't know what to do. So, you can do anything!"
Yeah, life doesn't work like that princess, jog on. I mean, "I guess."
| 2021-03-03T06:36:58 | 2021-03-03T03:55:20 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] In a landmark 5-4 decision, The Supreme Court rules that camping in FPS games is "fucking lame".
|
OPINION BY WhereLibertyisNot, J.
I. INTRODUCTION
We are called upon, today, to decide the sole issue raised by Petitioner on appeal: whether "camping" in First-Person-Shooter games is "fucking lame." The instant appeal for which we granted *certiorari* stems from the following facts:
II. FACTUAL BACKGROUND
On February 23, 2014, Petitioner xXTea_BagginsXx was engaged in a spirited "Conquest" match in the First-Person-Shooter ("FPS") game Battlefield 4. The undisputed evidence of record shows that, in an online "Conquest" match, two opposing teams of combatants battle each other on a battlefield "map", in real-time, for control of various "bases". The number of bases controlled and length of time for which they are controlled by a given team determine the respectve team's score, *viz*. the number of "re-spawns" the respective teams have left for the match. A team wins when the opposing team has zero remaining "re-spawns" and a player on that team is killed.
A popular strategy in FPS games such as "Battlefield 4", particularly in Conquest-type matches, is "camping". "Camping" occurs when a player, typically of lower skill and/or audacity, finds a discreet or concealed position and shoots unwitting opponents as they try to achieve the game's objectives. This generally leads to a disproportionately high Kill-to-Death (K/D) ratio for the "camper", and decreased enjoyment of gameplay for the opponents. Particulary egregious instances of camping occur where the perpetrator camps near the enemy's base, or "re-spawn" area. (These campers are often referred to as "faggots").
On the date in question, Respondent, uWOTM8, was on the opposing team. The record is clear that, throughout the match, Respondent was camping. Petitioner was the victim of Respondent's camping an astounding twelve (12) times. The straw which broke the proverbial camel's back landed when Responded "tea-bagged" Petitioner after a camping kill, and indicated to Petitioner that he had intercourse with Petitioner's mother. This caused Petitioner to "rage quit", and initiate the suit which led to this appeal.
The trial court found that, while the record was clear that uWOTM8 was engaged in the practice of camping, xXTea_BagginsXx has no remedy at law, for it recognizes no cause of action for camping. The Circuit Court affirmed the decision of the trial court. We granted *certiorari* to review the decision below. For the following reasons, we hold today that there is, indeed, a viable cause of action and remedey at law for camping on the compelling public policy grounds that camping is fucking lame.
III. ANALYSIS
In reviewing a lower court's dismissal of a gamer-suit for failure to state a claim upon which relief can be granted, our standard of review is well settled. "We are bound and constrained to only a review of the record for support of the lower court's findings and it's conclusions of law drawn therefrom. Only where the lower court has so abused its discretion as to be called a 'noob' or to be 'about as useful as Anne Frank's drum kit' will its decision be disturbed." *xXTittyFuckedUrMom69Xx v. 12yEaRoLdNoScOpEr* 360 F.2d 1080 (3rd. Cir. 2006).
As the instant case presents a matter of first impression, we look to policy considerations in weighing the interests of the parties' positions. On the one hand, camping is a useful tactic for the inexperienced, otherwise ineffectual player who woud be fodder for the more-experienced, leveled-up players. Moreover, camping is certainly not as abhorrent as shitdicks who use aimbots or other mods, or across-the-map, grenade-spamming faggots. For long, camping only provoked the mildests of insults and complaints and was met with swift melee-from-behind-and-tea-bag retribution. On the other hand, this Court cannot imagine anything more infuriating than rounding a corner approaching an objective, only to be sniped by a camper again, and again, in a Groundhog Day-esque, rage inducing nightmare. Furthermore, response to camping has escalated to controller, TV, and furniture destroying rage-quits, and his even compelled this Court on several occassions to call a twelve-year-old boy a string of epithets, unbecoming to a grown-ass man, which would make even the most grizzled sailor blush. In short, camping is no longer the minor annoyance that it once was--it has become a sickly weed whose roots have crept into the bedrock of FPS gaming and threatened its very foundation. For the courts to grant no recourse for such conduct is repugnant to the rule of law. The utilitarian interest of camping to a few noobs must yield to the overriding interest of the many, and for these reasons, we hold, today, that "camping" is "fuckin lame" and presents plaintiffs with a cognizable cause of action. Reversed and remanded.
WhereLibertyisNot, J.
|
"We now to turn Nancy Tran with the latest developments from the Supreme Court. Nancy?"
"Bob, the massive crowd gathered outside of the Supreme Court has erupted emotionally after the weeks of deliberation in the Haxsau5 vs. "F***ing Casuals" case. Those in the FC Camps are jubilant- cheering, hugging, waving flags emblazoned with their party's crossed out tent symbol. Mothers, school children, and young professionals openly weep as they realize the magnitude of the decision."
"And what will the future bring for the FC party?"
"Bob, the FC party can expect to play like their namesake, like f***ing casuals. They can round corners without fear and walk freely into the most open areas of the map without fear of campers. They are expected to experiment with the most unviable and stupid builds, sparking a new era of pointless creativity within the modern FPS genre."
"Nancy, what can you tell us about the Haxsau5 camp? What are their reactions to the decision?"
"Bob, the Haxsau5 camp is visibly upset by the decision. They remain resilient under their 14-year-old defendant, Haxsau5. The attorney for Haxsau5 has voiced his disappointment with the Supreme Court ruling and has begun planning an appeal. Haxsau5 personally reiterates that while camping may have been ruled as "F***ing Lame", he will seek alternative strategies to maintain his 3.12 K/D, and that quote, 'I'll still drop AC130's on your bitch ass'."
| 2014-09-03T07:34:12 | 2014-09-03T06:10:13 | 128 | 42 |
[WP] You run a role playing game with friends once a week. One day you get hit by a truck, and wake up with their characters staring down at you before going on the first adventure of your campaign.
|
The light seemed to be regaining it's strength. How could i describe how i feel? Cold? Weightless? Alone? Is this death? The fleeting feeling of warmth begins to rush over me; but not at once, trickling. Bystanders begin to gather in a circle, as if they were joining hands, bellowing a piercing lullaby to guide me into the next life. Their silhouettes flicker, no, change. One by one through my blurry, dirt spotted vision i can see them morph.
\*Focus\*
A flash of emerald strikes my pupil, sending a jolt of overwhelming pain to my brain. I can feel it travel along my receptors, like electricity along a live wire. It's agonizing. I scream into the void, but my voice is choked. I fade into nothing.
"AHHHHH-"
I'm awake, panting. My gaze darts around me, primally; a cornered, confused animal. A warrior stands over me, stone faced and disciplined. His stained-silver armor bears the cracks of a hundred battles, and a hundred thousand slain. His arm is outstretched, concerned, offering itself as a bastion back to bipedal life. I reluctantly grab his calloused hand, and struggle to my feet.
"He could be an enemy scout, Greg."
An almost snickery voice drifted off, though, i couldn't make out where it came from. The one he called Greg shifted his vision to the treeline beside us.
"How many times must i lecture you, Shade. Have some respect for my name or pay."
"My apologies.... Gregorious."
The shade fizzled into view; a repulsive, cloaked .. thing. A familiar feeling struck my stomach. Gregorious? A disrespectful shade? The names sounded very dear to me, somehow. Greg straightened his posture, and examined me the way a fisherman would examine a freshly caught bass.
"Where are you from, sir?"
"Uh, Detroit."
"Detroit? Is that North?"
"Yes."
"Behold, shade! You are wrong again!"
There was no answer from the shade. It just remained still, mysterious, suspended in midair. The only movements were it's jet black robes dancing with the breeze. The crunching of footsteps among twigs gathered my attention. From the brush emerged a staffed woman, with ivory-gold garb. All of her exposed skin but her face was covered in markings, glyphs. Her eyes were fixed on me, remaining unbroken as she pranced towards me, and positioned her unblemished face directly in front of mine.
"The boy does not belong here."
Laughter erupted from both the shade and Greg.
"Well that is obvious, priestess."
She frowned and pivoted toward Greg.
"No, you halfwit. I mean he does not belong to this plane of existence."
She turned back to me and her voice took on a stern and aggressive tone.
"Explain yourself before i have Amberlin fill your body with darts."
A whistle came from the trees, my head swiveled to find a cheerful looking elf waving a blowpipe.
The familiarity of it all was overwhelming, i felt intimacy towards these characters. I should feel fear, yet, i feel giddy excitement. I scour my memories for an answer.
"3"
What is it? What is it? Why do i want to hug them all?
"2"
Where else have i felt this feeling?
"1"
\----
The smell of chamomile surrounds me like armor as i slam into the back of my chair. I give a good, long stretch and bask in the following cracks. I'm finally finished. Pages and pages of synopsis and backstory lay before me like collected treasure. Poe, the ever sleeping feline lay stretched across some of the earlier nights work.
"Poor Poe, you did your best to stay up."
Almost instantly, Poe's ears perked, and he sat up with a howling yawn. I smile at him and look where he was positioned. Time froze in that moment on a piece of paper labelled "Gregorious."
\---
​
"WAIT."
The adventurers all faced me, cold and sullen. The priestess broke the silence.
"Yes?"
I look at all of them with newfound admiration. I begin to laugh. tears began beading up, trying their best to escape the prison of my ducts. I embrace the priestess. I run over to Gregorious and give him a playful punch on shoulder. I grin at the shade, and excitedly wave toward Amberlin. I'd spent months getting to know these characters. Their flaws, their dreams, their tribulations. They were like children to me in a way. I'd grown very fond of them as they traversed the world i'd built for them. Amberlin was the only one to return the favor by giggling and waving back. The rest looked amongst each other, dumbfounded.
"What is the meaning of this?"
I clear my throat.
"I am the god of knowledge, and i believe you seek the Sunken Stone, correct?"
They all gasped, except Amberlin, who was distracted by a nearby butterfly.
"It is true we seek the Stone, but how do we know you are who you say?"
It was the shade that spoke this time, as he gradually floated towards the group. I could sense a small amount of resentment in his voice. Ah, that's right! The shade was an NPC that was supposed to lead the party into an ambush. I grin and see this as my opportunity to become best friends with my characters.
"SILENCE, FORCE OF EVIL."
The shade flinched and looked toward Greg as a gut reaction. I could tell he was very afraid of the Warrior.
"W-what do you mean force of evil? I am a peaceful shade. I only seek companionship."
"LIES."
Greg, whose posture had remained fixed this whole time, turned towards the shade. Though he addressed me.
"Why do you believe this Shade is evil?"
I laugh.
"It was the shade that brought you to this forest, was it not?"
"You are correct."
".. Although you know the Sunken Stone lies in a grotto towards the sea."
"You are correct."
"Then why are you travelling further inland, Warrior?"
"You speak truth, outsider."
I beckon toward the priestess.
"If you don't believe me, use your clairvoyance to scout ahead. You should find an ambush waiting near the next river."
The priestess nodded, and with outstreched arms her eyes snapped to a blinding gold. You could feel a pulse rip across the ground. Pebbles and dirt began to escape gravity's clutch, floating aimlessly towards the clouds. The shade's posture began to fail.
"Now, now, there's no need for that! Just listen, please. It wasn't my choice. Please. They forced me-"
"The boy speaks truth, there are dozens of them beyond the next fencepost where the trees turn from green to black."
Without even a half-second Greg had finished slaughtering the shade. His 2 handed Axe of Truth collided against the earth with such incredible force, the concussion alone knocked me into the treeline. I screamed helplessly as i flipped and ripped my flesh on the branches, hurtling farther into the forest with incredible speed. I could make out an agile figure keeping up in my peripheral. Just before i crashed into the ground, i was caught, and the two of us skipped across the forest floor, like a stone cast into a lake. Our bodies finally flattened, and we slid into a rotting trunk, shattering it like glass as it took our full inertia. I groaned and turned over onto my back. Looking up, I noticed Amberlin bending over me, already standing. She acknowledged me with a wink.
"Hey, God. You think you could point me in the direction of a stronger blowpipe?"
​
​
(EDIT : Proofreading. )
​
PART TWO IS UP BELOW.
|
“Ugh, it felt like a truck had hit me. Or did I get hit by a truck? It was hard to tell with all those bright lights. God, its still so bright out here. Where am I?”
I raised my hand, trying to block out the searing heat as it connected with my skin, burning it like the embers of Mount Syphon. God, it ached. Why was I so sore? And why was it so bright? Was I dead? I pushed my hand away only to reveal three familiar faces, each one examining me with a raised eyebrow, a look of shared confusion between them.
“Heh, my adventuring buddies, have you come to help me?”
“That be the bastard, he even admitted it with his own tongue, I say we gut him before he ruins our travels.” A dwarven man shouted, his two-party members thinking it over.
“Are we certain we want to kill him based on an oracle’s prophecy? We don’t even know the strange man, is he really going to hinder our adventure?” The mage woman spoke, a finger resting on her chin, undecided about the decision.
“Look, whether or not we kill him, it doesn’t matter. If we just adventure without him, he can’t hinder us.” Lastly the small goblin member voiced his opinion, the three each thinking over the party’s words.
“A hindrance? I-I help you a lot in this world. I’m good old Kogath the destroyer. You know me, right? I might look a little difference, but this is me. I promise. I have read the guide to this world, I can solve any of the puzzles. Im useful.” I tried to convince the party, but none of them were interested in my words.
“Help us? You weaken us. Kogath is a great man, and you uttering his name is an insult. We know of your dealings in the other realm. We know how you and the other fates guide our destiny. We also know that of all the fates, you are the worst.” The mage answered, shaking her head.
“Aye, the smart lass be right, you are as useful as my old granddaddy’s left-handed hammer. Bless the foolish man’s heart. You are a chaotic beast of a man, one that steals from everyone, even your fellow teammates.” The dwarven man was convinced of the decision to kill the man, but again the goblin tried to mediate.
“I know he is a thief, but he may have not been aware of the power he held. Like the tale of Gusto and the golden ring. He may have been unaware of the abilities he wielded.”
“That’s a bold claim to make without proof, lad. What are you suggesting we do then? Half gut him to death? Give him the old dwarven dance?”
“A dwarven dance?” The mage interjected.
“Oh yes lass, that’s where we all lock arms and stomp on him, its quite fun. Have you not done it before?”
“It sounds messy.”
“Aye, it is. That’s half the fun.”
“No dwarven dancing. Let’s just leave him. He can navigate the world by himself. We don’t need an item hoarder in our group, nor do we need someone that tries to kill everyone he meets.” The goblin butted in, stopping their discussion.
“Very well, we will leave him. Let’s hope the gods are kind to you. You don’t want to die out here, the harpies will pick at you if you do.”
With that the party left me, I tried to call out to them, tried to make one last plea.
“Please, don’t leave me. I can help.”
But it was too late. The party was gone, leaving me to pull myself from the ground, looking at the grassy lands surrounding me. I was alone, having to traverse this world by myself. It would be impossible to do any quests alone. Maybe I could recruit some help.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2020-11-24T01:19:37 | 2020-11-24T00:38:58 | 43 | 16 |
[WP]Walking into your local drugstore, you jokingly say to the employee "I need to lift a curse cast generations ago, what aisle?" He then looked up and responded with "yeah, you look bad, aisle 5 just down the secret stairway."
|
Not a single part of me expected to find salvation in a somewhat rundown CVS drugstore on the outskirts of Tulsa, Oklahoma... but I was quite literally out of time.
The truth of the curse that had ended generations of my family prematurely had only been revealed to me when it was already too late. I was decaying, quite literally, by the day. My flesh rotted, my hair fell out by the handful, and chunks of flesh, some seeming quite necessary to live, sloughed off of me as if they were redundant. Open wounds and gushing sores became the norm, but somehow, I was still alive... for now at least.
So far I'd driven halfway across the country, searching out everything from the finest doctors and surgeons to ancient mystics, medicine men, shamans and spirit healers. None could do a damn thing to stop the progression of my 'illness'.
And so, here I am. My last ditch effort as I bleed from every wound on my body and one of my hands becomes nothing but bone and thin tendrils of sinew, is to drag my non-functional left leg through the dual doors of this crappy chain drugstore.
The place was a ghost town, err- poor choice of words... but it was completely deserted, not a single other shopper in sight. Which was to be expected it suppose, it was after all a rundown CVS on the outskirts of Tulsa. The locals surely knew better than to shop at this trash heap, so who would be browsing the aisles here?
Wandering the empty store, I found the nearest bored employee and immediately begged for their help. "Curse!" I shouted, the words becoming gummy and hard to understand as my mouth and vocal chords slowly withered. "Do you sell cures for curses?"
The kid looked annoyed briefly, as if he was going to scold me for pranking him, but as he scanned up and down the aisles and found there were no other customers present, his face and tone shifted. "Of course, sir. What kind of a curse?"
I stared at him, not truly believing or even properly processing his response. "A... a longtime one? One that has doomed generations of my family to-"
"Ahhhh, multi-generational curses. Yes yes, I understand. That'll be in aisle five, just to your right. Push past the unsold Christmas decorations that are still on the shelf in July. Behind them you'll find a secret stairway. Down it, you will find your salvation. Have a lovely day!" With that, he walked off cheerfully.
*WHAT?!* He cannot be serious, but having literally no other options, I dragged myself to aisle five, found the sad decorations, and sure enough, a stairway behind a hidden doorway, leading downward.
I suppose it's more accurate to say I tumbled down the steps like a rolling trashbag full of meat, than to claim I 'walked' down them, but I arrived in a stone chamber lit by red candlelight. Behind the counter stood an old woman wearing a blue CVS vest and a smile on her face.
"Welcome to CVS, sir. How can I help you today?"
"Curse! Multi gener- generational curse... dying... familial curse... help... please!"
"Of course, young man. My goodness, you do look a little worse for the wear! I'll happily sell you something to help you out and get you feeling better right away!"
"Thank you!" I exhaled.
"Now, before I process the transaction. Do you have a CVS rewards card? It can offer you a great deal of savings!"
"What the fu- *DO I HAVE A CVS CARD?* Do you honestly... think *cost* is an issue to someone in *my* condition?"
Her smile remained unchanged. Creepily unchanged, unmoving and unflinching. "Well, the price without discount is $100,000, sir. I figured I should ask."
I stood there in stunned silence. "I uh- Yes! Yes, I have a CVS card is what I meant!" I lied, desperately trying to remember my ex-girlfriends phone number so the old woman behind the counter could look up the account in her store system.
She sighed. "It sounds like cost may indeed be an impediment for you, sir. How unfortunate!"
"Look, I'll give you anything... anything alright?! I'd offer you my left kidney if I wasn't pretty damn sure it's already been liquefied inside the remains of my rotting flesh prison... I mean, 'my body'. There's got to be something! What do you want?"
"$100,000, sir. In cash," she said, her gaze and tone hardening. "Now, if you don't have the money on you, there are several businesses lining the streets nearby that would make perfectly fine targets for a robbery."
My dumbfounded stare was one for the ages. "Are you out of *your* *mind*? I've never broken a law in my life! How do you expect me to know how to rob some store? And what business has a hundred grand just sitting around?! And-" My voice cracked and faltered as I came to the truth of my outburst. I steadied my emotions before continuing. "*And...* I know you can't really help me, no matter what I do, there is no magical potion or elixir that can cure this curse that has haunted and tormented my family for generations upon gener-"
She silenced me with a dismissive chuckle and a wave of her hand. In it, was a small bottle. There was absolutely nothing special about it, it easily could have come out of the cold medicine aisle, but with a dramatic flourish, she poured just a few drops onto my nearly melted right hand. Miraculously, the skin immediately began to regrow, starting from my fingertips, all the way up to my forearm. I instantly felt 20% more energized as well.
Silence filled the room once more as I stared at my fully rejuvenated hand with astonishment. I flexed it and wiggled my fingers until I was absolutely sure it was for real.
"I have exactly two questions for you, ma'am," I said finally. "Do you sell toy guns here? And which way should I turn when I leave the store to find these 'perfectly fine robbery targets' you mentioned?"
___
___
Many more of my stories live over on r/Ryter, I won't claim much, but I promise it *is* nicer than a rundown CVS if you care to head over and read some more.
|
I yawned as I glanced down at my phone to check the time. A solid 2:00 am. I was tired, but I was sent out on this *adventure* by my roommate. His words exactly were to "Grab the Spicy hot Cheetos! The world depends on it! Who knows, maybe you'll find something unexpected!"
I grumbled quietly to myself and found myself nearly running into an employee just stocking the candy aisle.
"You look like your in a hurry, whats going on?" He glanced up taking in my tired form.
"I need to life a curse cast generations ago, which aisle?" I asked jokingly, rubbing my eyes as I put my phone in the back pocket of my baggy sweat pants. I don't know why I decided to make a joke about that, but I was tired and practically falling asleep standing up. He took a moment looking at me up and down, making me shift uncomfortably as I waited for his answer in silence.
"Yeah, you look pretty bad. Aisle 5 just down the secret stairway. Here, wait here and I'll grab the key." He said making his way to the counter and rustling through a pretty stuffed drawer. I blinked in surprise and pinched myself to be sure I wasn't dreaming. *I don't look* ***that*** *bad to be cursed, right?* I looked down at my baggy sweatpants I usually only wore to bed, my mismatched slippers and the worn stained hoodie that was my roommates. Sure it wasn't Paris fashion week worthy, but.... Okay its pretty bad. I threw on whatever was close to the door before just leaving for the door.
Before I could get lost in my thoughts he had reappeared with a pitying smile. He held a bright pink Hello Kitty key, and I could only raise my eyebrows in amusement.
"The key to the secret staircase is-"
"Yes. I know, they just didn't have any other keys to make copies with." He interrupted with an exasperated look. "Now follow me." He said leading me to an old wooden door in the corner of the store which I couldn't believe was always there.
"How did I not notice... what?" I muttered confusedly as I followed him.
"Simple, you weren't looking for it." The employee said while putting the key into the lock. "Now I know it looks dark and scary, just go down the stairs carefully and open the door at the bottom of the stairs. Everything you'll need will be down there." He said before just walking off, leaving me to stare down the dark staircase that faded into nothingness.
"Well shit, now it really is an adventure. I'm so going to kill you Paul." I grumbled, directed at my roommate as I started my slow descend into the dark staircase.
| 2019-12-27T20:42:19 | 2019-12-27T20:04:03 | 96 | 31 |
[WP] The Magical Girls were defeated, but before their capture, they released their instrument-weapons. Formerly, they always landed in the hands of either J-pop, or K-pop girl bands but this time -for some reason- the weapons choose a Finnish Death-Metal boyband. They were PAINFULLY efficient.
|
"Guys...?" said Eric, the band's manager, shyly entering the backstage room. "I think we need to talk."
"I'm sorry," said Tero, the band's lead vocalist. "I know we're late, but we were busy-"
"Fighting a giant turtle monster with tentacles, I know. It was on the news."
"Oh..." Tero glanced away. "Then what's up?"
Eric sighed.
None of the band members seemed to understand the problem. They were all drenched in blood due to the monster they had just slayed, which was pretty metal, but it was ruined by the fact that they did it while wearing colorful Japanese high-school uniforms.
The skirts didn't even fit them. They were meant for petite Japanese girls; not hulking Scandinavian men. Worst of all, a cute cat-like creature now followed them around everywhere, and they all talked to it like it was sentient being.
"It's about this new hobby of yours..." said Eric.
"It's a duty; not a hobby!" said Mathias, the guitarist. "Those poor girls sacrificed themselves in the name of friendship. They're our musical brethren! We can't just ignore that."
"As noble as that sounds," said Eric, "I'm afraid it's starting to affect your work."
Tero squinted. "What? We haven't missed a show yet."
Eric shook his head. "That's not what I meant."
Mathias widened his eyes. "Does our music suck now? I know we haven't done much formal practice, but we fight with our instruments, and I actually feel like we're getting better."
The rest of the band nodded along.
"You don't get it," said Eric. "The problem is more... image focused."
The entire band frowned.
Eric flinched. Despite the odd clothing, they were still magically powered warriors. Eric had to be careful with his words to not piss them off.
"Is it the skirts?" asked Tero.
Eric swallowed down his anxiety. "Kind of..."
Everyone rolled their eyes, moaning.
"It's the current year," said Tero. "We're way past conforming to gender norms!"
"T-that's not what I meant!"
Mathias shook his head, disappointed. "We expected better from you, Eric. This is just prejudiced. We're out here fighting life-or-death battles, saving the world. Do you expect us to let the world be conquered by darkness? Just because we have to dress like little girls?"
Eric hung his head. "I knew you guys would take it this way. Please, just hear me out."
"No," said Tero, "we won't. We're proud to be of this lineage of musicians. Some of the greatest warriors in history come from this tradition. How the fuck is that not metal?"
"Yeah!" said the rest of the band.
"Who cares if death metal usually has a black and white aesthetic!" said Mathias. "We're innovators! Our music is still an authentic expression of hope and despair! Anyone who can't recognize this as metal is a poser, and doesn't deserve to be a fan of ours."
"Yeah!" agreed the entire band, again.
"And we're awesome at it!" said Tero. "We haven't even gotten scratched by a monster!"
"Yeah!"
"It's not about being girly, you idiots!" shouted Eric. "It's the fact that you look like weebs!"
The band members paused, taken aback by the outburst.
"W-what?" asked Tero.
Eric took a moment to compose himself. "Weebs. Everyone thinks you're weebs now."
"Oh no..." gasped Mathias.
"Yeah," said Eric. "I couldn't care less about gender norms. Wear all the skirts you want. My problem is that you're losing your core audience, since everyone thinks that liking your music makes them otakus."
Everyone glanced at each other, nervous. They hadn't thought of it that way.
"Wait," said Tero, "isn't this concert fully packed? Why is that a bad thing?"
Eric motioned everyone over to the stage curtain. "Look for yourselves."
Tero gaped his jaw.
Even Erno, the stoic drummer, couldn't hide his horror.
The entire crowd was full of weebs. Some were cosplaying their favorite characters, others carried around suspiciously sticky bodypillows, and the sounds of people speaking broken Japanese echoed throughout the concert hall.
Tero shivered. "I didn't mean for this to happen."
"Y-yeah..." said Mathias.
"The concert may be packed," said Eric, "but is it really worth it?"
The band quickly decided to give up their powers and never spoke of it again. Their short escapades would fall into legend, however, as the strongest magical warriors in history.
-------
>If you enjoyed this, check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
|
(Disclaimer, i got the names from some list of Finnish boy names, i have no clue how accurate any of them are)
The Magical Microphone usually allowed it's user, generally the leader of the group, to sing uplifting songs increasing everyone's power, in Aalto's hands it created sonic shockwaves capable of terraforming the terrain in front of him.
The guitar usually created a dome shield to protect the girls, when Hami strummed it, it generated artillery-like explosive attacks.
The bass was known to create healing pulses, under Leevi's command it summoned legions of ghostly warriors.
The synthesizer normally transformed into a pegasus drawn carriage, with Ramsus at the helm it became a monster truck armed with twin gattling guns and heat seeking missiles (it's ability to fly mysteriously intact.)
The drums, finally, produced concussive soundwaves, except when Tahvo hit them, their power was amplified by dozens.
In mere moments the villainous henchmen where defeated, the evil generals thoroughly run over, and the dark lord traumatised, so much so that the newly rescued girls spent a moment berating the members of "Death by a thousand snowstorms" before thanking them.
| 2022-08-15T08:56:03 | 2022-08-15T08:51:20 | 332 | 221 |
[WP] In a world where superpowers are common, you are discriminated for your lack of one. Little did they know at night, the heroes they admire comes to your house so that they can vent their frustrations to society much to your amusement.
|
Being a therapist to near-gods can have its upsides. Sure, I wasn’t heralded for my ability to lift a car off a crying child, but I lived my existence with a solid smugness, knowing the depths of the darkness that the heroes would trudge. And I got to hear them rant about the public that loved them so, so dearly. That was retribution in its own, wonderful right.
A woman with the ability to control fire, Syna, sits in the chair across from me. Her skin shines like a marble in the sun, glinting and glittering. It was hard, at times, to look at her, even when she wasn’t on fire. She was sighing heavily, as if she could expel her frustration through breath. “I’m just tired, George. So tired.”
“Anything in particular that’s weighing on you?”
“The press.”
I nodded. I had this conversation at least twice a day. “Have they been following you again?”
“I was eating a croissant! At the cafe! I was having a good time, until that little rat with a camera appeared.”
She was talking about Jim, a young, eager man that worked for “Hero Pop!” the tabloid that kept the public up-to-date on the latest hero-related gossip. I handed her a tissue; I couldn’t tell for sure, but it looked like her shimmering skin was wet beneath her eyes.
Taking the tissues and blotting the tears, she continued, “I mean, it’s bad enough I look like this. I can’t hide like other heroes. No pair of sunglasses is going to cover up iridescent skin.”
I nodded sympathetically. “Have you thought about talking to Mika?” She was the go-to for heroes who needed suits.
“Yes, but she says that there’s no way to cover up my face.” She sniffled. “I had a kid tell me I looked like an oil spill the other day. How do kids even know what that means?”
“Children lack a filter. I’m sure they meant it as a compliment.”
“He stuck his tongue out at me and then farted in my direction.”
“Well, children can be cruel.”
“And so can adults!” She said, her tone exasperated, her hands shaking. “It seems like everyone has an opinion these days. Had someone stop me while I was buying an energy drink—little punk thought it’d be a great idea to catch me I was on the way out—and he told me that he was a fan of my work but he thought that I really ought to add some more flair to my fights.” Her eyes were wide; I could see her skin beginning to warm, a glow taking over the opalescent tint. “The nerve. I put more than enough flair into my fights. I even learned how to do back flips, just so the footage would look good. And what do I get? Some kid in a Metallica t-shirt telling me I wasn’t good enough. Honestly, what I outta do is—”
I put my hand up; smoke was wafting off of her, “Syna, take a deep breath. You’re working yourself up and I don’t want to have to buy a new chair.”
She nodded and the smoke drifted away, leaving the office smelling vaguely of burnt rubber. The rest of the session was about her sister and her new boyfriend. Heroes are people, too, I’d learned.
​
My next patient is an odd one, he’s a villain, but I don’t discriminate in my practice. His power is a sort of necro-telekinesis. He can raise the dead. And he always brings a friend or two to the sessions. Today he brought three, and thankfully, they weren’t bleeding like the last ones. I had used an entire bottle of bleach after our session and I didn’t want to have to do so again.
“Good afternoon, Harrison.”
“Afternoon, Doctor.”
“Is there anything in particular you’d like to talk about today?” One of the corpses let out a low groan. I raised an eyebrow.
He smiled, “Yes. I’ve been having a lot of trouble lately, just going out. Apparently it’s not in good form to bring your undead horde to go grocery shopping.”
“I thought you knew that?”
“Well, yes, but ever since they passed the new laws stopping heroes from carrying out their fights except in active zones of destruction, I thought I’d be able to go about my day unmolested.” Another groan.
“And that wasn’t the case?”
“No, there was pandemonium from the moment I stepped into the Raley’s. I just needed some more butter—I wasn’t going to be long, but by the time I’d made it to the register, there was no one there.”
“How many did you have in your horde?”
“Oh,” he said, looking at his nails, “about ten.”
“And why do you think the situation ended as it did?”
“Well, because someone called Yami.”
I nodded. I counseled the young goddess on Thursdays. “And she came to confront you?”
“At first, yes. But then I explained to her that I was just trying to shop, trying to get some butter for my parsnip side dish and she asked if she could join me for dinner.” He blushed in a manner I hadn’t witnessed before. “We had a lovely time.”
“How do you feel about fraternizing with a hero?”
He shrugged but all three of his undead creations, now sitting on the floor or leaning against my bookshelves, let out a strange moan. He sighed, “Fine. It’s a little weird. But she’s amazing. Really sweet. Wonderful. Such beautiful hair.”
“Do you think her motives are pure?”
The corpses let out a hissing noise, as if deflating. One of them fell to the ground with a thud. “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. He looked out the window into the bustling city below, “Are anyone’s motives pure?”
“Most people’s, in my experience, are not. They’re selfish.”
“I guess I should know.”
“Any plans?”
“I was thinking about kidnapping the mayor’s daughter.”
“Did you run that past Yami?”
He laughed, a sharp, short sound like a cat yelping when struck. “No. No, all relationships have some secrets.”
“But your plans are a big part of who you are. They’re your art, so to speak.”
“Yes,” he said, his eyes cast downwards now, taking in the swirls on the rug. “I suppose you’re right. Do you think it’s a bad idea to see her?”
“I only worry about you and how it might hurt you. The tabloids will flock to you in a way they hadn’t before, if you pursue this.”
“People might start to like me, too.”
“Is that something you want?”
He scowled, “Goodness, no.” The corpse that had fallen stirred and righted itself, walking behind Harrison and putting its hands on the chair, leaving little bits of flesh on the fabric. I was going to have to clean that up later, wasn’t I?
“It might be best, then, to keep the relationship a secret for as long as possible.”
“Yes, I think you’re right.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to discuss?”
“I’ve been having weird dreams lately, do you talk about that sort of stuff?”
Turns out the dreams mainly involved him forgetting to put mayonnaise on his sandwiches, biting into them only to find disappointment. I told him it might be metaphorical. He was satisfied when he left. I cleaned up the bits of flesh from my floor as my next patient came in. She was a hero with very powerful telekinesis; they called her the Puppet Master. Even I feared her.
|
“How are you feeling today, Miss Comet? You were rather burnt-out last time I spoke to you. Have things improved much?” I lounged into my chair, ready for a story. I could just tell tonight would be a long night. She seemed ready to burst into flames, anger boiling within her core, yet she held her composure. Sitting down in a stiff wooden chair I had placed for my guests.
“Horrible. Burnt out doesn’t even describe the feeling anymore. I feel empty. How does a lady that catches on fire ever feel burnt out? Ugh. I sometimes envy you. You are one of the few people not caught up in this hero rat race. A normal person in a world of freaks.” She sighed, pulling off her mask, blonde curls following as she discarded the mask.
“Heh, burnt out. I didn’t even notice the joke at first. I think you are developing a sense of humor, Miss Comet. You are wrong though, in a world where heroes are normal, I’m the freak. The person who goes against the norm is the people considered the freak. Have you considered a holiday?”
“A holiday in this city? With the amount of villains? You must be dreaming. I wish I could lay my head down, but if I did, it would be at the cost of lives.” Comet dragged her fingers through her hair, foot tapping quickly against the floor, skin burning as if it was about to catch alight, only to dim a moment later.
“Easy, I know its hard for you, but burning down my home won’t help you. You don’t owe the people out there anything. If you take time off, another hero will fill in. There’s plenty of you around, I’m sure you will be fine. Last I heard you outnumber the villains three to one. Those are good odds.” I couldn’t help but find some amusement in her stress. Seeing the hero on the verge of a breakdown was fun to watch. Made me feel a lot better about my condition.
“Sure, there are plenty of heroes. I just know I would blame myself if something were to happen while I was away. I swore an oath to protect this-“
“Protect this city. Yes, the same oath that every person who comes here took. The oath is little more than a childish way to secure your loyalty. It’s the equivalent of making you write your name before giving you your pen license. Something meaningless. At the end of the day, if you keep this up, you might not have the will to shine anymore.”
Miss Comet looked agitated, my words lighting a fire in her. She went to stand, only to pause, placing herself back in the seat. She collected her mask, placing it back over her head. “You’re somewhat right. I don’t completely agree with you, but I understand where you are coming from. Not taking time off will hurt my heroic feats in the long-term. Maybe a break would help me. Then I could come back refreshed. A week or two of no pesky people screaming for help would be lovely.” Miss Comet slouched back, looking as though she was visualizing her holiday, a smile creeping onto her lips.
“I think that’s a great idea. Hopefully, that helped you ease your mind a little.” As much as I enjoyed seeing heroes frustrated, I had many others to go through tonight, not wanting to spend all night with Miss Comet.
“Yeah, thanks for the help. You might not have powers, but you sure save a lot of us heroes. I think I’ll book one for next Monday.” With that she got up, giving me a wave before leaving through my window.
I waited until she was out of sight, heading towards my phone, making a note of what she had told me. I’m sure a villain would pay handsomely to find out when one of the heroes was going to be away. It would make it easier for them to commit their crimes in her region. Maybe I could see if Stunner would be interested? I would give him a good discount.
Before I could make any phonecalls, another hero knocked on my door. I hit the voice record button on my phone before sliding it into my pocket, moving to answer the door.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
| 2021-02-24T07:34:58 | 2021-02-24T05:29:16 | 401 | 233 |
[WP] You are a superhero, who's daily screw-ups save lives everyday. You are the Blooperhero.
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George
“Fuck,” muttered George, reaching for the tea towel in his tiny apartment kitchen. This was the second day in a row he’d spilled coffee on a button up shirt, ruining his last of the only two he had for work. He dabbed at the hot coffee, managing to smear it across the fabric even more. George made a face, knowing that he just had to accept his clumsiness. Nonetheless, he was angry and unbuttoned the shirt then threw it out the 16th floor window.
George walked into his bedroom and scrambled through the pile of clothes on his floor in search of something else he could wear to work without getting shit on. He picked up a faded Tommy Hilfiger two button and thought to himself, Cal’s gonna rip me a new one when I come in wearing a red polo...
George put the new shirt on, rubbing deodorant onto both sides of the front of the shirt as it grazed his armpits. Not noticing, he walked back into the kitchen and realized he had left the spatula on the stove. The element was still hot from cooking his tofu-bacon, and the plastic had melted slightly onto the rusty heating disk. George knew he was running late for work, and decided to clean it up later.
Three minutes later, after an all too familiar uncomfortable elevator ride of being stared at by the elderly man who George never managed to avoid in the mornings, he walked out the front door of the complex. The scene George encountered made him gasp. Not three feet from the front of the door, a silver Lincoln had crashed - by the looks of it with the full force of a car going way too fast - into the light post in front of his building. Inside was a woman, whose long, red hair was stained with her own blood.
George’s eyes widened as it became immediately apparent why the woman had crashed. There, spread across the cracked windshield of the car, was George’s coffee stained shirt. “Mother of -“ Just then, sirens wailed around the corner. A megaphone mounted on the police car blared “WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED. PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND DO NOT MOVE!” George looked around and realized there was nobody else on his side of the street. The message was directed to him.
Oh god, what have I done?, George thought to himself.
George complied and put his hands on his head. Brakes screeched. Doors opened and slammed. Guns were drawn. “You’re under arrest! Don’t move!”
George was panicking. “What the fuck did I do?!”, he shouted at no officer in particular. Just then, two hands grabbed his forearms and forced them behind his back with a force that made George cringe. Two pieces of cold metal hit George’s wrists, then several clicks and a shot of pain later, he knew he had been arrested. What the fuck have I done wrong?, he thought again to himself.
“Oh fuck. We got the wrong guy”, someone shouted from behind George. “It’s a chick and she’s still in the car”.
“Are you fucking serious? Do you know how much paperwork false arrest takes?"
George let out a sigh of relief. Thank god, he thought to himself, having just been imagining the look on his mother’s face when she learned he’d been detained. He felt the cuffs clicking off of his wrists. “Sir, I’m terribly sorry for what we’ve just put you through,” a young cop who resembled Jesse Eisenberg with black hair and a moustache said. "The lady tried to rob a bank and managed to kill three tellers in the process. Thank god that shirt landed on her windshield though. We thought we’d lost her in the chase. I hope you don’t mind, but you’re still going to have to come with us to the police station to sign a few documents and answer some questions. After all, you’re the only witness. "
A huge wave of self-conflict overcame George. He was pretty sure he’d just killed this woman with his coffee-stained shirt, which was a horrifying thought, but he’d also stopped her from escaping after killing three innocent people. After about an hour, he found himself riding off in the passenger seat of a police car, palms sweating and stomach still twisting in knots, when his phone started vibrating in his pocket. The vibration was intense and sudden, and given George’s established paranoid state, he jumped in his seat, tensing every muscle in his body. After George realized it was only his phone, he pulled it out, and read the caller ID. “Fuck”, he muttered. It was his boss, Cal.
***TO BE CONTINUED***
Edit: Spelling and grammar
|
"BLOOPER HERO TO THE...Umm...RESCUE!" I screeched as I raced towards the woman who was about to spill her coffee all over her self.
As she turned past a dark alley, I called after her, "NEVER FEAR! THE BLOOPER HERO IS HERE!" And knocked into her, sending her phone and coffee flying.
Down the alley, a criminal was holding a man under gunpoint, and the phone landed on his face and knocked him unconscious, saving the man's life.
"Oops..." I muttered, not noticing the man, who was standing there, shocked, but safe. I only noticed that the woman had spilled her hot coffee all over her self.
"I'm such a rubbish superhero." I whispered to myself, not knowing about the thousands of lives I'd saved, that, that hero in the papers was me. And I don't think I'll ever know it...
| 2015-05-02T10:28:57 | 2015-05-02T08:50:31 | 62 | 10 |
[WP] She has beauty, she has wit, she has grace… she speaks like a pagan god of death uttering omens through echoes of an ethereal plane… But hey, dating in your 30’s is gonna have baggage.
|
"Another shot?"
"Please," Greg said. The first Jack Daniels was already starting to wear off. The choice to arrive a half hour early may have been a poor one, but the choice to steady his nerves was wise and he had no intention of undoing it.
The shot arrived about the same time she did. Greg immediately forgot about it, stood up, and walked up to greet the woman he was there to see, Valentina.
"Wow," he said as he got up to her. "Your profile picture didn't even... I mean, that dress is so... I... um. Hi."
Valentina did not say anything. She raised one hand as if she expected it to be kissed. Greg awkwardly shook it as he tried to figure out if the downturned corners of her mouth were displeasure or something else.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I wasn't good at dating before the pandemic and... I have even less game now. Still, I'm so glad you came. Would you like to get dinner."
"Yes, dinner. The final meal of the day. For some... some here... it shall be the last of their fleeting existence."
"So you're a goth? I should have guessed by the outfit, but-"
"Hear me now!"
The people at the bar got quiet. A few heads turned in the dining room. The lights dimmed, all of them, save for the one over her head.
"The forgotten poison shall be the final quenching of the doomed servant. Charred flesh shall be the last thing to pass between the lips of the abandoned matriarch! You, who does court me, you are far more handsome than your avatar! Our union is as joyous as it was inevitable."
Greg paused. *Not the most awkward hello I've had this year.*
He asked, "Shall we get a seat?"
"Of course. Our feast shall rival that of the grim table in Hel."
"Cool... so, you're in theater?"
Valentina did not reply, but swept up to the hostess stand. The lights returned.
Greg followed and said, "We're on the wait list."
Valentina added, "A crawl through time as tedious as that to the grave."
The hostess said, "It can get like that on two for one wing night, but tonight's not so busy and your table just opened up. Right this way."
The two followed the hostess to their table. Greg swallowed, suddenly warm. His eyes darted from table to table, looking to see if anyone was looking at them, but everyone was intent on their meals. In fact, despite the fact Valentina was easily the hottest woman in the restaurant in the shortest dress, everyone seemed to be avoiding her gaze. The only one watching them still was the bartender, who had stepped around from the bar and was looking at them both like a dog who had just had a cat bark at it.
Menus and drinks came. They both had water. They ignored the breadsticks.
Greg cleared his throat and said, "So... um, I'm in IT myself. Database management. Boring stuff. Say, do you always open compliments with dire prophecy?"
Valentina looked around the room. She drew in a sharp breath. Her eyes became two obsidian orbs.
"The words of the Gravemother cannot remain unuttered, nor her reminders that no child of woman may reverse time and that she would like grandchildren. Please me, mortal, and she shall have us over on Thursdays."
"Wow... you move fast."
"Wait."
"Um... okay, not so fast."
"Silence!" Valentina demanded as she bowed her head.
From the back, someone screamed, "Oh god, call a doctor!"
Greg looked in the direction and a woman had fallen out of her chair, turning blue. He could see her clutch at her throat. He looked to the table and saw she'd been eating a blackened steak. She was alone at her table.
Valentina's words came back to him immediately.
"...*Charred flesh shall be the last thing to pass between the lips of the abandoned matriarch!*"
He slumped back into his chair.
Valentina said, "The moment has passed. Her spirit is with the Gravemother. I am sorry. This is probably weird."
"A little. You... um, this isn't how you sounded in your DM's."
"The voice of the Black Siren only comes from my lips. It's why I don't get out much."
"I get it. I was married for a while. It's hard starting over in your 30's."
"And yet you shall endure until you are bent and ancient."
Greg raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"I am as sure as that the world will be consumed in fire befor-"
"Hold up."
"Do my words offend?"
"No, it's just... you're reminding me life is short. Even if you say mine is going to be long, it will still go by in a blink. I fell in love with you on the third text. Do you really want dinner here or should we just skip to drinks at my place."
Valentina's eyes turned normal, with whites and pupils and bright green irises.
"I thought you'd never ask."
Greg smiled and stood, taking her arm. They both blushed like school kids. He tossed a twenty on the table and kept his eyes on hers, not even noticing as the paramedics rushed passed them to get to the corpse behind them.
The bartender continued to watch as the pair left. They paused at the door, Valentina stopping them. She drew Greg to her and kissed him. It made the bartender warm inside to watch. She then nodded, as if Greg had passed a test, and then they went out into the night.
The bartender shook his head. Wednesdays were always weird shifts. He noticed the shot Greg had left behind and decided not to let it go to waste.
He said, "To love" then tossed it back.
Valentina's words echoed in his ears as he swallowed.
"...*The forgotten poison shall be the final quenching of the doomed servant.*"
"Well, fuck."
|
“It matters not what activities of the flesh we partake in. Our union will bring about the resurgence of the dark power.”
Kevin was a bit hesitant when he asked Brianne out on a date, due to how she kept replying to his texts with things like…that. Despite the odd references to dark powers beyond mortal comprehension, she actually was quite charming. On top of that, she actually seemed to like him, and, well, the eldritch references weren’t exactly a dealbreaker.
And now, sitting at her apartment, sipping wine, and watching her eyes go black and her voice grow in radiance, he realized that he may be in over his head.
“What is the matter?” She asked.
“W-well, I just figured this was going so well,” Kevin replied. “I didn’t think tonight would end with my soul being eaten.”
“What makes you think I want to devour your soul?” Brianne asked.
“I mean…I guess I just assumed.”
“No, Kevin my dear, I said our union would revitalize the dark powers,” She said reassuringly. “We can’t have a union if you’re dead.”
“So all of this was just to resurrect some dark powers?” Kevin asked.
“W-well…no,” Brianne said, suddenly looking down and growing shy.
“Then what was it for?”
“W-well, I…” She began. “I…I really like you, you make me laugh and you’re incredibly kind and sweet. A union cannot occur without true romantic attraction, it can’t just be done between two strangers.”
“Aw, you really like me?” Kevin asked, giving her a small smile.
“Of course I do.”
“Aw, I really like you too,” Kevin replied. “I was a bit confused with all the eldritch talk but I think you’re really cool.”
“Oh I’m so glad to hear that,” Brianne said. “Plenty of the men I’ve interacted with have found the whole dark power thing to be a deal breaker.”
“Yeah I guess its not for everyone,” Kevin admitted.
“A lot of them weren’t worth it in the end,” Brianne said. “You’d be surprised how angry someone can get when you tell them you just want to be friends. Oddly enough, that has upset more men than the proposal of the dark union.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Huh.”
| 2021-07-07T11:55:15 | 2021-07-07T08:43:02 | 906 | 128 |
[WP] FTL travel is actually possible. However, when humanity sends out our first FTL spacecraft, we discover the terrifying reason why nothing, not even light, dares go past that cosmic speed limit.
|
"I told you all that Faster Than Light Travel was banned," The eye said, floating in front of the tiny ship. Mostly engine, mostly experimental drives, with a single human on board, staring at the great horizon; an immense cosmic silver eye.
The human was quiet, perhaps, it was trying to tune into a frequency for communication, or perhaps something else entirely.
Jvan, the Wandering Eye stared at the craft with distaste; though that was the only emotion he had ever been able to muster. Paused in time, the ship on the very breaching point, where the forever corona would streak uncontrollably past the light barrier and stretch endlessly, stuck in a momentous occasion.
Forever.
"I was not aware such sanctions... existed..." The human said, trailing off. Space suit. Clothes pressed hard on his body, not a gasp of air able to slip out. Strapped to the chair to try and brace for relativistic forces.
The doctors had said the FTL drive would make him pass out.
It'd been a challenge to not pass out.
Now he wished he had.
Jvan floated closer, the eye perfectly blocking out every inch, every fraction, degree, image of the sky in front of him, what lay past the final barrier. "There's nothing past here, you know."
"Nothing?" The astronaut said, curious. "Nothing at all?"
"This is the last barrier for your kind," Jvan said, knowingly. "Once you break this, there's nothing left for you. The final point of which humanity's future lies suspect; after this point, there will be nothing that can end you."
"And you don't want that?" The astronaut returned.
"I don't want that for you," Jvan returned, smoothly. "There will be no end to your suffering. There will be no limits in the universe; you will spread your ilk across all available stars, and there will be nothing that will ever cause your governments to change. Human nature will stall. Stagnate. A thousand thousand thousand generations will pass without a flicker of a change; for everyone who disagrees will simply find their own lands. What little culture you possess will die off, and instead form into a multivariate lane of which there is no return."
"Isn't that the point, though? To be able to leave hostile climates and find new lands?" The astronaut asked. "Is that not the point of limitless exploration? Of breaking that final barrier?"
"Tell me," Jvan said. "You must love your country; you're riding a bomb powered by good wishes and nucleotides. You must trust them dearly."
"I do," The astromnaut replied.
"Would you see your governments clamber across the stars, forever. A mess of resources so obligate and vast that nothing will ever change but for the chains you have woven onto it for stability? Are you willing to accept that responsibility?"
"I am." the human replied.
"Liar," Jvan claimed, his eye flicking across the cosmos. "After this point, there is nothing for your kind. A slow creaking expansion; the endpoint of your sciences, the endpoint of your ideals. There is nothing left. Perhaps your individualism will blind you to the idea of community; removing the idea of synthesis in your planetary cornucopias. Perhaps your community will blind you to the individual; a great cosmic clock grinding resources out of planets to feed blind idiot masses screeching into the heavens. Nothing will destroy you except time itself."
"And you?" The human asked.
"I will do as I always have," Jvan said. "I will watch another blind idiot race expand until they have no meaning, and then die, as the universe does, to be reborn as another part of a meaningless cycle."
"How many have you turned away?"
Jvan laughed. A great booming noise despite possessing no mouth and blocking out the cosmos from view.
"I have never turned a single race away from their fate. They have gone on regardless. Any race that makes it to this point will never answer to me, will never respect the places they were born to. They see the universe as dominion, as property, as if putting eyes upon it means they should expand; virulent, a pathogen upon the blind unknowing cosmos."
"And are there alien races out there?" The astronaut asked.
"Distant enough that when you find them, you will no longer be human, and they will no longer be what they once were." Jvan answered.
"Then we shall go past you," The human declared.
"You will," Jvan said. "And you will meet your undoing; your systematic upheavals and your self made crises, and you will fight them until you lose. Like always."
"But we'll fight."
"You'll fight," Jvan agreed.
"I'm breaking the light barrier right now," The astronaut wondered aloud. "Aren't I?"
"All species see this," Jvan concurred. "They will see an image of me, and all things come to a reckoning of what I, the eye, have seen in all lines. The past. The Future. The Present. All dimensions, before me, after me, below me, above me."
"And what comes next?"
Jvan flicked his pupil about.
"The place past light."
And then there was only darkness; for the human brain could not handle the idea of moving post liminal velocities, and even signals are outsped by the pace of the universe itself.
But bizarrely, the astronaut could only see beautiful gleaming darkness, and the knowledge that perhaps, humanity had finally outrun the gods.
and the ship exploded into light
marking a final new age for humanity.
------
https://old.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/
|
The day had arrived.
On a space station high above the earth, thousands stood silent, while millions watched at home as humanity's first Faster Than Light capable spacecraft was about to depart on its maiden voyage.
The technology was perfected over decades, with countless scientists working long hours for minimum pay for a passion that they may or may not regret later in life.
The spacecraft, dubbed Speedy McSpeedFace, was perched on a high platform, with the audience below protected by a powerful force field. The ship was unmanned, it being only an experimental vessel, but filled to the brim with technology that Star Wars could only dream of.
The announcer waited for the signal to begin the countdown.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you've all been waiting for! The world's first Faster Than Light ship is about to launch! I have been given permission to begin the countdown! In five, four, three, two, one!"
The ship started its engines, at first slowly, then at maximum throttle.
The ensuing explosion ripped the space station, the force field, and the earth apart, disintegrating it into pure plasma that collided with the other planets at speeds faster than light. The other planets were completely vaporized, turning into swirling vortexes of pure annihilation that caused everything they touched to cease to exist.
As the ship traveled through the universe, everything it touched was completely destroyed, leaving behind nothing but an infinitely hot space that cause disruptions in space and time. Stars that had been born in the dawn of time found themselves going supernova in the blink of an eye, black holes were torn apart by their own gravity, nebulae exploding with the force of the Big Bang.
The observable universe was left a desolate wasteland.
The ship left the boundaries of the known universe and headed into the unknown, where a race of aliens known as ponies found it and were subsequently destroyed.
| 2018-11-04T05:57:52 | 2018-11-04T05:34:15 | 3,262 | 19 |
[WP] You have just died. The Good News is that there is an afterlife. The Bad News is that it isn't Heaven. Or Hell. Or Purgatory. And you aren't a Ghost. In fact, the afterlife is something that no sane human being would ever predict, and has most likely never been written down.
Go balls to the wall crazy with this. Think of the most outlandish afterlife your brain can muster. Thanks and have fun!
|
**LIFE OVER**
*James* is no more. You have left a loving wife and three children behind. You have died from **OLD AGE**. You have made *121* friends in your life, *17* of which you saw regularly throughout your life. *53* people left bad reviews on your character page.
Happiest memory:
*Getting Married*
Most unique memory:
*Travelling through China*
Did this life meet your expectations?
**YES**
**NO**
> No
If you wish to leave a complaint, please leave a message at number 3495y6thz845-3a.
***
You have earned
*1.357.138*
Points!
Your previous lives have earned you
*9.406.862*
Points!
In total, you now have
*10.800.000*
Points!
You are in the top 10!
Would you like to post your score on the scoreboards?
**YES**
**NO**
> No
Would you like to reincarnate?
**YES**
**NO**
> Yes
***
*Reincarnation*
**USE A PREMADE LIFE**
**RANDOMIZE YOUR LIFE**
**GO TO CHARACTER CREATOR**
> Go to character creator
Alert: Creating your own character will cost points!
Do you want to continue?
> Yes
***
*Character Creator*
**Traits** - Random
**Looks** - Random
**Geographic Area** - Random
**Development/Time** - Random
**Class** - Random
**Live!**
Cost: *Free*
> Set Geographic Area: Europe
**Traits** - Random
**Looks** - Random
**Geographic Area** - Europe
**Development/Time** - Random
**Class** - Random
**Live!**
Cost: *Free*
> Development/Time
***
**Prehistory** - 1.000 Points
**Classical Antiquity** - 10.000 Points
**Early Middle Ages** - 3.000 Points
**Late Middle Ages** - 5.000 Points
**Renaissance** - 10.000 Points
**Age of Enlightenment**- 20.000 Points
~~Restoration~~ - Buy DLC! - 20.000 Points
~~Late 19th Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 30.000 Points
~~Early 20th Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 50.000 Points
**Late 20th Century** - Free trial until 589zx-7! - 100.000 Points
~~Early 21st Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 100.000 Points
~~Late 21st Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 100.000 Points
~~22nd Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 150.000 Points
~~23rd Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 1.000.000 Points
~~24th Century~~ - Buy DLC! - 1.000 Points
~~25th Centuy~~ - Preorder today! - Price TBA
>Age of Enlightenment
***
**Traits** - Random
**Looks** - Random
**Geographic Area** - Europe
**Development/Time** - Age of Enlightenment
**Class** - Random
**Live!**
Cost: *520.000* Points
>Class
***
**Slave** - *FREE!*
**Serf** - 1.000 Points
**Free, lower class** - 10.000 Points
**Free, middle class** - 100.000 Points
**Free, bourgeois** - 1.000.000 Points
**Lower noble** - 2.500.000 Points
**Upper noble** - 5.000.000 Points
~~Monarch~~ - Buy DLC! - 10.000.000 Points
> Buy Monarch DLC
2100 credits will be wired off your account. Confirm?
> Yes
Would you like to select **Monarch**?
> Yes
**Traits** - Random
**Looks** - Random
**Geographic Area** - Europe
**Development/Time** - Age of Enlightenment
**Class** - Monarch
**Live!**
Cost: *10.520.000* Points
> Live
This is an expensive life. Confirm?
> Yes
***
Confirmed. You will be reincarnated as 050y592th582x.
Translating...
100%
You will be reincarnated as "LOUIS XVI".
Reincarnation in 60 seconds...
> ...
> ...
> Fuck.
***
Edit: Whoah, comments, upvotes, a jazz reading and reddit gold! Thank you!
|
*Time is an illusion.*
I awake into darkness. A voice is singing to me, reverberating through my body. *Time is an illusion*. It was like waking from a dream. The most pivotal moments of my life were vividly shown to me in chronological order. I finally understood me. But I was not me.
*Time is an illusion.*
A white sphere emerges in the distance. It grows. Ribbons of glowing matter burst from the sphere and dance peacefully through the darkness. They approach me. They dive beneath me and subsequently begin to ascend. They begin creating. Exotic plants, obscure animals, iridescent rock, and a myriad of objects spawn before me in blinding light. Life and matter is given constraints and commands. Life is directed.
The ribbons flow through me. The ribbons encapsulate me.
*Darkness is only consumed by light. Light is only consumed by darkness.*
Knowledge cleansed me.
*The created becomes the creator.*
As I imagine, it exists. A people. A planet. A universe. Everyone is God.
| 2015-10-19T02:05:14 | 2015-10-18T21:31:32 | 550 | 11 |
[WP] Turns our that dragons are laid back underachievers. They could rule as gods, being virtually invincible, but almost all of them prefer a nice comfy nest in the mountains and a nice fat cow every week.
|
“Oh, master of the mountain, I come with just one question.”
The dragon looked asleep, and it probably was. George asked anyway.
“Why have you taken a vow of peace? There are legends told of the things you used to do, protecting the village from oblivion, soaring in to save the day when all looked lost. What happened?”
The dragon said nothing.
“It must have been a different dragon then. Maybe one that wasn’t asleep three quarters of the day.”
The dragon almost lasted long enough. But as George walked away, the footsteps seemed to be triumphant, like the human had figured something out the dragon didn’t know.
“It was no other dragon.”
George turned around, eyes wide in shock.
“I just see no reason to break the peace. Peace has done me well. I get to nap, and all I have to do is hunt for a few minutes a day? Count me in.”
“But what about your vow, to protect and defend the villagers whenever they were in need?”
“I never made any vow. I just said I would defend what I cared about.”
“Fine, then what do you care about?”
The dragon laughed. “Pretty much nothing.”
“But not nothing?”
“Not nothing. But you’d never figure it out. Move along, human. I have to hunt.”
George had an idea. “Hunt? You don’t sound too excited about it.”
“It’s a drag.”
“Then…what if I bring you a cow once a week, and I get to guess?”
“Guess what?”
“Guess what you’ll fight for. And if I guess right, you owe me a favor.”
“You’ll never guess right.”
“Try me.”
“Fine. You can have a hundred guesses, for all I care. Two years of free food sounds good to me.”
\-
“You have a dragon wife or something. Kids, maybe? But they’re all tragically gone.”
“No.”
“You had a human master, one you truly loved. Gone, also tragically.”
“No. Why do you think my life is so tragic?”
“You are waiting, for a great threat to come to the village again. Then, you will return to defend it like always.”
“No.”
“You’re bored, waiting for a worthy challenge. But there’s nothing, and there hasn’t for a long time.”
“No. There never was.”
\-
“Has anyone ever guessed right?” George, asked, eating a sandwich on the ledge, tossing strips of meat into the dragon’s mouth.
“No.”
“How soon do they normally give up?”
The dragon shrugged. “You see all kinds of angles. Some come to beg, some come to fight, some come to con. And they bring all kinds of tools, determination. But they all wear out in a day or so. I’m waiting to see how long until you’ll quit.”
“Well, I won’t give up.”
The dragon smiled. “You know, a lot of times, I hear that, and don’t believe it. But for some reason, I almost want to, when I look at you, even if you don’t quite look the part.”
“Then why not just tell me?”
\-
Then George didn’t come back for a week. When he did, it was raining, and the dragon couldn’t even fall asleep.
“Where were you?”
“I was busy,” George said, looking down, staying in the shadows instead of trying to invade the dragon’s personal space like he normally did.
“Well, what’s your guess?”
George shook his head. “I’m done with that. It isn’t worth it.”
“What?”
“My grandfather told me how his grandfather saw you in action. How you protected the weakest of the village, and wouldn’t stop until the ghouls were all vanquished, no matter the beating you took. I thought…maybe you would help me. Maybe you would see how helpless I was, and save me.”
“Save you from what?”
George looked up finally. His face was badly bruised, and his left eye was squeezed shut and swollen purple. “From them. But I guess you can’t count on anyone to save you. Not even your friends.”
And the boy walked away.
\-
“You ask your mom for more money yet?”
“I’m not going to ask my own mom for money to pay for your lunches.”
“Then we’ll hit you twice as hard, every day until you do.”
George tried to shrug, the way the dragon did, like he didn't understand how anything in the world could ever bother him.
“I figure the more practice I get, the sooner I’ll be able to beat you guys.”
He had practiced the line, and was proud of finally saying it. But the older boys didn’t hear him. They were looking up, into the sky-
“What are you doing here?” George asked the dragon.
“You don’t get to skimp on your end of the deal. You still have half a year of cows left, remember?”
“Fine. But why are you here?”
The dragon shrugged, and then smiled, baring his teeth at the retreating older boys. “I didn't have a friend to care enough about. Not until now.”
George laughed as he watched the flame soar through the air, right at the enemies finally running away from him.
\-
a little cheesy, but thanks for reading. more at [r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
“Really? A cow?”
“Why not? It is good succulent meat, good as any one could wish for,” he belched. “Nothing sticking in your teeth, catching in your throat.”
As he lay on the grassy plateau looking up at the cool night sky, Drogon let out a good deal of smoke with a good deal of noise from a rather undignified opening.
“Well at least that’s not methane.” The wind wasn’t blowing in my favor.
“The CH4 thingy? I’m telling you, that’s far too much ado about nothing.”
“So you are Shakespeare, the climatologist, now?” As I looked down upon the endless stretch of lights that glittered all around us of god knows which city, I did not think the question the least bit absurd.
“That puny bastard.” he chuckled, “Came by once and after he came to, wanted to know why God made men love men. I wasn’t very hungry. As for your methane, ask Halgon to take one good year’s sleep and you would be begging for methane before he’s halfway through.”
“Why just a cow though? Why not a deer? Aren’t they tastier?”
“Hrrrmph! Deer?! Did you see them run?” And with that he closed his scaly eyelids in what I thought was a rather pointedly sleepy droop.
I walked a little way from his fumes of sleep and looked down longingly upon the thousands of people with their millions of lights that would be but the moon by the sun of his breath and their millions of weapons that would be but cotton on his skin.
| 2019-05-25T22:09:16 | 2019-05-25T21:52:48 | 64 | 20 |
[WP] The goblins who dwell just outside your village are small and dumb –in an oddly endearing way. The villagers humor their innocuous raids and sometimes even give them advice. In the village’s darkest hour, the goblins send aid.
|
As the startled drunkard lay bleeding in the street, bludgeoned and battered, he bemoaned his misfortune, rinsing the flagstones of their cleanliness with soft crimson.
It had been just his luck to run into a member of the newly instated Night Police, cruel enforcers and brutish extensions of the new management extended by the King. They were bad enough when they caught you out past curfew, but drinking? Well, that was practically a death sentence.
What sickened him most, even more than the roiling, churning froth in his gut, was the fact that no one would do a lick about it.
None were willing to challenge the new authority that had made its power known from the first day. The new regime was one of fear, and Barton resented his own cowardice that had made him turn away from others who had become what he soon would.
A mysterious 'disappearance.'
Clopping of hooves, the soft thud of boots, a grim chuckle.
The officer was above him now, and by the faint whistling of the wind Barton could make out over his own throbbing temples, a cudgel was swinging to crush his skull in that very instant.
Resigned to his fate, Barton offered himself a moment to reminisce.
With all the alcohol in his system, he figured he might even have a moment to relax before he was dissolved, like a sheet of paper badgered by rain.
Before the town had been reclaimed as a valuable territory, their biggest problem had been the Rhinoceros Clan, a small band of goblins that lived by the outskirts of town, who had named themselves after a supposed beast their leader had seen on an adventure.
The goblins had figured themselves troublemakers, nuisances, even threats to the townspeople's way of life, but they had become a part of the routine more than anything.
To see a goblin in the street would mean a pickpocket at the worst, and perhaps even a helpful hand at best.
They would often stage 'attacks' on the town, but they were honestly harmless, only ever stealing one or two sheep and perhaps, if one of them got out of hand, kicking down a small stall. (Of course, excluding the incident with the Bryar kids' lemonade stand)
Not even the mayor minded their occasional attacks, as, surprisingly, their consistent low level damage of public infrastructure ultimately improved their investments in public infrastructure.
All in all, the Rhinoceros clan became the unofficial mascots of Goodwedge.
Of course, that also changed with the new administration. Almost immediately, the state had ceased patronizing the goblins, going so far as to torture one before releasing it under extreme pressure from the people.
After that incident, the goblins hadn't returned, and their old campsite had been discovered abandoned.
Barton hoped they had escaped unscathed.
But either way, he figured that was decent enough exposition before he met his untimely end.
He braced for an impact, but one... never arrived.
He glanced up, confused, and through a drunken haze recognized a familiar face.
"Serk!"
Barton exclaimed, overjoyed to the brink of tears by the sight of his old green friend.
The goblin grinned toothily at him, then returned his attention to the officer before him, whose cudgel had been blocked by a simple stone dagger.
From within his tunic, Serk withdrew a second blade, which he quickly put to use, tearing into the policeman with a cold frenzy.
Serk helped Barton to his feet, and the pair clumsily navigated towards the apothecary, where Barton might be treated for his wound.
"What are you *doing* here?" Barton slurred, his feet suddenly feeling leaden and tingly all at once.
Serk grunted, bearing his weight across both shoulders.
"We couldn't just- hrngh -let these royal bastards encroach on *our* territory! After what they did to Fronz, especially. In fact, as we speak, they should be raiding the castle."
Barton went pale, the moon appearing for all the world as his reflection rather than a source of light.
"You guys attacked... the King's castle? Castle DuMont? But you- you can't, your raids aren't-"
Serk burst into a fit of poorly contained hilarity, his lips spasming at the edges, writhing this way and that.
"No, no, we know. Our band was never enough to *really* overtake this village. But Fronz, they've been talking with *every single tribe* that calls these woods home. All of them. And in a mass scale goblin attack, even the King doesn't have the defenses to withstand their force."
Barton's worried face broke into a sunny grin, and he gripped Serk's fingers, alive with joy.
"I'll drink to that! Whaddya say we share a gin?"
"Barty, you're far past your limit at this hour, why don't I handle the drinking for tonight."
And with that, the drunk and the goblin walked into the bar.
|
When aid came they realized they had never seen an adult goblin. Every single silly innept and endearing goblin they encounter were all children. Small children at that.
There was one about a decade ago, one of their cute raids, and during the rough play had gotten injured. With a yelp of pain the kind farmer they were raiding quickly went to his aid. His big smile and bushy beard reassured the little gobin and through tears started to smile with the farmer.
"I think this will scar my boy but you will be ok" the farmer said as he tended to the deep cut on his shoulder.
The ten or so years that past the farmer never saw that goblin. But in what seemed like his last moment his mind went to that little goblin as he closed his eyes waiting for the blade he heard a loud crash and some gurgling. He opened his eyes to see a 12 foot tall extremely muscular green figure with his back to the farmer. The gurgling came from the crumpled pile that was his assailant.
As his eyes focus he saw the now adult goblin looking at him over his shoulder. A broad grim peaking over a large scar on his shoulder.
With tears in his eyes the old man returned with his big smile and whispered "thank you my boy". With a quick nod his green savior was off to the melee.
Edit: a word thanks puddlefarmer
| 2022-05-26T18:20:55 | 2022-05-26T17:05:45 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] Aliens have come into contact with humans. To most aliens, humans are among the most hardy and dangerous species known in the galaxy.
|
It was, in all honesty, quite a shock. We'd been exploring the far reaches of space for nearly 400 years, searching for other civilizations. Probes into deep space, radio signals, manned missions. They always turned up empty.
I was there when we found them. We'd entered an uncharted solar system, continuing our ever-expanding search for others. Initially, there had been nothing. We weren't there for long before we found relatively small crafts, which, when we took them into our ship, proved to be unmanned, and not of our design. They were slow and primitive, a mess of panels and cameras and wires. They looked clumsy compared to our sleek, speedy probes. We held them for several days, trying to source their origin. The data stored in them was just like the probes themselves, clumsy, primitive, a total mess of code that we couldn't translate.
We caught a lucky break, though. The craft sent a signal backwards through space, deeper into this uncharted system. So, we followed it. We passed by some uninhabited or uninhabitable planets, gorgeously coloured, but not like anything we hadn't already seen.
And then, there was something we had seen. It was like some of our own planets, maybe a little smaller, their clunky, primitive satellites hovering around it like a cloud of metal. We tried to tap into the network, with limited success. We lost the signal we'd been following in the web of data, but that didn't matter, not when we were presented with a torrent of information our computers struggled to process. Sounds poured from our speakers, snippets of their speech and what we could only believe to be their music overwhelming our ears. It was chaotic and even beautiful, in a way. We listened for a while, in awe of what we were hearing. Someone sent word of what we'd found, but it would be a while before we'd receive a response from back home.
Someone else had the idea of attempting to land. My heart palpitated at the thought. The crew began to bring us down on the first landmass we could find. We tried to send them a message, letting them know we were coming, but I don't know if they got it, or if they knew exactly what it meant. Our computers told us the gravity on this planet was a little stronger than that of our own, and that the air was a little strong for us, but breathable. We all discussed what we'd do when we landed, how to try and communicate with them. Our linguistic experts spent the whole trip down trying to translate their words, but it wasn't easy. The experts told us that these Others had multiple dialects, nearly all of them wildly different. It would probably take days to even begin to translate.
I think it was at this point that some of us started to think we'd been too hasty while caught up in our excitement, myself included.
We didn't have the time to doubt our choice after we landed. Anyone looking out the windows saw them coming. I wondered whether it was our message or our craft they saw first.
Our most essential crew stayed on the ship, keeping the engine going and the computers on. Just in case we needed to leave rapidly. I would've given anything to stay on the ship at that point, but I was an essential member of the ground team. My qualifications as a groundside navigational expert, as well as my approximate knowledge of biology meant I had to lead everyone else out. I shook in my uniform as the ramp that would let us out opened. I felt dizzy and sick from fear as I led the crew down the ramp and into the sunlight. It cleared a little I saw the Others, stood out in the open, waiting for us.
They were bipedal, like us. Shorter than us by nearly half, but clearly stronger. None of us would have believed the muscles on them if we hadn't seen them with our own eyes. They had two forward-facing eyes, like us. They were probably predatory creatures like we once were. Their arms were shorter in proportion to their bodies, and they had two less fingers than we did. They grew a significantly larger amount of hair than we did. They were shockingly similar to us.
"Wait here," I said to the crew. I walked ahead, cautiously. One of the Others also broke ahead of their group, walking towards me with the same trepidation. I stopped at arm's length from them, unsure of how to non-threateningly greet them. There was a tense silence for a moment, which was broken when the Other held one of their hands forward, palm facing sideways. When I didn't respond, they walked forward, taking my hand in theirs. Despite the small size of their hands, their grip was firm. It briefly occurred to me that they could probably break my hand if they wanted to. The Other said something to me. "I don't understand you," I said. They released my hand, much to my relief, and since they seemed friendly, I waved the crew forward. My job, for now at least, was over. I'd leave all translation attempts to the experts.
You remember how I told you that finding them was a shock? The even bigger shock was when we saw them go to war. Sure, their tech was clunky and primitive, their medicine was almost experimental, but they didn't need our tech, or our advanced medicine, or our weaponry.
Their bodies were practically weapons. Their brains were unbelievably well programmed for violence.
We made sure to keep a healthy distance after we saw their war go from a squabble between countries to a planetary blood-bath. They told us this war was the third of its kind.
|
I'm a researcher, studying the other forms of sapient life in our galaxy. So I probably know as much about them as anyone else.
They were sort of a surprise, when they showed up.
Most of them were. . . Gelatinous. Some had shells or carapaces of some kind, but on the whole, it seemed that sapient snails and slugs were the dominant life-forms of the universe.
Suffice it to say, without their technological capabilities, we could have crushed them underfoot. Literally.
It seemed that *homo sapiens* was the hardiest species in our galaxy.
They communicate audibly, on the same level as us. But their languages are, by and large, unpronounceable. There are the Gwrzxfdnoins, the species that first found us. Their closest allies, the Fkjhtujrwt people, whose planet has the longest place-name in the known universe. The clandestine, shell-wearing Hrwdsuts.
All of them are wobbly, liquidy, *fragile* things. But their technology is nothing short of amazing. I'm aboard one of their ships, learning their language. Usually they speak slowly for me.
But just now, there's quite a bit of commotion. Blips on the outer edge of the "radar" depicting the whole galaxy. I catch a few words:
"Threat. . ."
". . . Enemy. . ."
". . . Reptilian. . ."
The telescreen flashes, and the display is taken over by a depiction of a tyrannosaurus-rex-like creature, next to a Gwrzxfdnoin for scale. It was massive.
Yes, most of the intelligent aliens we've encountered so far have been much weaker than us, from a physiological standpoint.
Most, but not all.
| 2015-09-30T21:07:49 | 2015-09-30T20:27:06 | 40 | 12 |
[WP] “Humans are so weak, the best weapons they have are tiny, dull claws!” “That’s why they build weapons.” “They do what now?”
|
The 45,083rd Galactic Council Meeting was a special one. It was only the 12th time that all the 4,269 members were called in to attend at the same time. In routine it usually comprised of local systems along with some others that had something to say, a trade agreement to sign, a war to declare.
For its significance, it was called on the outskirts of Sagittarius A, for being easily accessible to all member systems. However, the Centauris - Who had called this Special GCM, demanded that it should not be called anywhere near Sagittarius. Their demands were shot down because it looked like they wanted some place easier to reach from their home system.
"Centaurians, you have called this special session of GCM providing that humans should be 'taken care of' as your reason. Furthermore, you tried to change the venue of this meeting illegally by saying things like mortal danger. Please elaborate as to why this GCM isn't just a means to dispel rumors of your war plans?" Kronos initiated the session. A hush fell in the hall as soon as he spoke. All eyes were now on the representatives from Centari.
"Yes, these rumors, you will be pleased to know that we plan to address them here today" piped the representative from Centauri. He had a bald head, a height of 4.5 ft and a fat figure that made it look like he wouldn't nearly be as athletic as he really was.
"For some time now, we have been assessing the situation over at Earth" a groan filled the hall. "I swear if you've brought us all here to discuss humans I will send you into Sagittarius myself" Kronos threatened. "There will be no need for that, if you allow me to continue".
"As I was saying, we have been monitoring earth for some time now. But it appears that we cannot in good conscious keep this from every esteemed member of this council. To cut the long story short, in light of what we have gathered, I think now is the time to address the threat posed by humans. Whether we should eliminate them in one combined attack, or let them in this council and hope that they do not take too much offense at the ignorance with which we have dealt with them in the past"
The hall got filled with chatter. Kronos put his head in his claws contemplating whether he should destroy Centaurian's ability to monitor humans. Their obsession with humans was downright childish it seemed.
"CENTAURIANS" a deafening bellow from the lord Horte himself silenced the room. "What is this new information that you say you've gathered? You do not tell and say that a human, could pose a threat to you? You could easily pass through one of them, or even a dozen of them with your thick heads. What do the humans have? Nothing! A claw that could barely gnaw at a nut."
"That is why they build weapons"
"They do what now?" Kronos looked up
"Weapons" declared the Centarian. "They called them weapons. Our obsession with them started millennia ago when they started using some form of metal sticks to enhance their claws. No longer could we fight a human who has a weapon and is ready to face us. They could as easily take us down, as any of us could do to them. It was for this reason that all tourism was banned and a research post placed instead."
"All seemed well for a while, but few hundred years ago, they made their first magic weapon"
"A fucking what now? How is it possible for them to wield magic?" a random voice yelled throughout the hall, possible from one of the nebula systems.
"Ah yes, we were surprised as well. Unfortunately, that is when we were placed in probation so we couldn't speak out freely, except for calling a special GCM session." Centaurian explained. "It is similar to your weapon in the sense that they leave a lot of smoke, when they use it, but, once again, it is a weapon, not attached to their body like a claw or something."
"You take us for fools? Next you are going to say they can fly" Horte let out a chuckle, the only system that had mastered the craft of ariel attacks was his world, where thick atmosphere and large gravity made his species incredibly agile on other worlds. Kronos and Horte were from this world
"Oh it gets even better, mere 100 years ago, the first human pioneered the air for the first time. Today, at any given moment you can find millions of humans flying about, and they fly at speed of sound at the height where mountains look like this Till I'm standing on" Centaurian said in a tone that made everyone pay attention to him once again.
"How can they do that?" Horte looked concerned. Another species, possibly as strong as his own? How could they have missed them?
"It is their damn weapons. They do not make one weapon, and give it to everyone and be done with it. Gone are the times where you could find a human with a metal stick. Now they have metal tubes, that shoot a metal bullet farther, more accurately than any archer here can. But they did not just stop there, they made something called an aircraft, to fly, and put metal tubes on this aircraft so they can kill while high up the air. They made their aircraft faster, and made their tubes fire faster. But about 70 years ago they made a bomb, which blasts away entire cities at a time"
"We got scared and pulled our research teams off planet. We hid them behind their moon, but you know what, we didn't realize that they were again building more weapons, weapons that could look behind their moon, while sitting in their homes. They merely detected the rock on which our team had a base, so we quickly retreated completely." The Centaurian was trying with all his might to explain why they were so obsessed with humans. They had been ridiculed over it in the past but couldn't tell it to the audience.
"If what you're saying is right, then it appears they will soon be too powerful to fight. Shall we challenge them to a duel?" Horte asked
"I'm not entirely sure if that is even possible, few decades ago their weapon 'telescope' could only detect our rock behind their moon. But the reason why we called this meeting was that few years ago, they looked into the EYE itself"
.
"Explain" said Horte
"Their telescope is so strong, that they can probably see us here near the EYE! Which is exactly why we didn't want to meet here."
"Are you sure they can see us here?" Horte asked concerned.
"They call it their Event Horizon Telescope. They looked at the EYE and let every single human see it like it was in front of them. Even we here cannot see it for it is both too bright and too dark at the same time, but they could nearly see inside the EYE, without even going away from Earth"
|
Title: The change
"Humans are weak" - One of the oldest known facts in the entire universe.
They lack armored skin, horns, fangs… so much so that their claws are tiny and flat.
So, it was nothing new when krrik and blad sat together with their snacks and were making fun of humans. Then, out of nowhere, their not so smart friend; dauf came running on all sixes and crashed next to them… They were annoyed but they had nowhere else to be. “Another snack time going to be wasted listening to dauf’s unintelligent and needy stories” was the common thought running through both their distributed yet connected brains. Dauf caught his breath and said at once “Humans have been making weapons and vehicles going into space, the council has decreed to convene at once and decide on when to declare war on humans’ planet, come let’s go quickly” and grabbed a jelly like limb of blad’s snack to shove into his bottom mouth. Krrik pulled his snack closer and composed himself to just say “They’re making what now!!!?” All the three started running to the vast hall of the elders to see what was going on.
It was pandemonium there. Everyone was worried. Many elites had already started the hiring process for their private armies to go to war against the humans. Citizens were huddled in groups discussing in hushed tones. The council itself was trying to calm everyone. All the council members were ordering their troops to calm their people. The leader was trying to connect to the planet’s conscience to look for advice. All the three joined their respective troops while hurriedly trying to finish their snacks.
The planet boomed through each council member at once “HUMANS ARE WEAK”. The whole vast hall erupted into cackles and screeches of laughter again. “BUT ONLY IN BRUTE STRENGTH” boomed the collective intelligence once again. “WHAT THEY LACK IN BRUTE FORCE, THEY MAKE UP FOR IN GENIUS AND CREATIVITY. THEY HAVE BEEN BUILDING WEAPONS FOR INDIVIDUAL AS WELL AS MASS WARFARE THROUGHOUOT THE PAST MILLENIA. IF WE GO TO WAR WITH THEM NOW, WE SHALL LOSE” said, the planet.
Everyone’s face fell and the murmurs started rising again. The leader bowed to no one in particular and asked “Then shall we make peace with them?”
The vast hall shook while everybody tried to hang on to what ever they could find.
“PEACE IT SHALL BE” said the planet and everything became silent once again.
Krrik and blad looked at each other and ran to their master elite, Eglaf. She looked at them inquisitively. They both said in unison, “we want to be on your journey to the humans’ planet”. She looked at them with intent and then an evil grin spread across her face showing her inner mandibles. She said to them “arm up, we the glats are never the ones to make peace. We shall strike first”. Their faces lit up as they were running out of the vast hall and into the armory.
They would be having a war of their lifetimes…. For all they knew.
| 2021-12-01T22:53:41 | 2021-12-01T21:25:03 | 47 | 26 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide.
|
There was a flash and a noise that sounded as though I were passing though a membrane. I stumbled very slightly as I felt something solid form beneath my feet. And shoes! I hadn't felt shoes on my feet in what felt like an eternity. A deep breath filled my lungs... well, it seemed to anyway. I went through the motions, but there wasn't any air to breathe, and it didn't seem to matter to my body anyway. My heart wasn''t beating. I was dead.
Once my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a room with dimensions I couldn't calculate quickly. And someone was waiting in the distance. He caught my eye and wagged his finger, summoning me to the large chair in front of his desk.
As I walked up, he was filling out some kind of paperwork, busied with whatever forms I guess are necessary for processing the afterlife.
"Hello there," I said as I bent at the waist trying to look at his eyes, "I'm...."
He raised his finger and shooshed me, "Not now."
I swiped my trench coat aside and put my hands into my pockets. Another muscle-memory breath made its cycle as I stood in front of that chair. It's not like he was on a time crunch or anything. Surly eternity had time enough for a little manners.
"So are you just going to stand there like a bloody fool or are you going to sit here so we can get on with it?"
He didn't even look up at me with that bark. I shrugged, arched my eyebrows and took the seat, making sure to thunk my shoes on his wooden desk. It was a fine grain of wood with a brown finish... "Wait a minute? Where'd you get the wood?"
Finally, he looked up from his glasses. "Excuse me?"
"Well, I mean, do you have undead forests? Undead lumberjacks? Well, you've probably got loads of undead lumberjacks, with the dangerous conditions, tools, falling trees..."
"All the questions you could ask in the scope of eternity, and you're interested in my desk? The arrogance of your race preceeds you."
"Yeah, well..." I replied, bobbing my head in slight agreement, though honestly he was quite on point.
"So how does this process work? Sign me in, bellhop comes for my bags, continental breakfast?"
"Dog's breakfast for you!" he bellowed, slamming his pen down beside a stack of what looked like incident reports. "Do you know what this is?" he asked pressing his finger in the middle of the top page.
I knew what it was, and my quick glance and scowl gave it away.
"Usually, even with your kind, this stack is significantly smaller, mere articles by comparison. I've even dealt with some beyond your years with far less to report than the first stack of your infractions - this stack" he said arching his eyebrows and smashing his finger again and again into the paper, "is just one of an entire cabinet! The last, in fact. But all of them pale in comparison to the last page on this stack - I could throw them all away and this page alone would determine the difficulty of the riddle you must answer."
My face fell to a stony expression. I felt my mouth fall at the corners. No more jokes. No more avoidance.
"Well I guess that's fair. It's the only crime I actually committed. Those others were another man... a man before me... lots of men before me."
"Crime?" he asked, obviously disgusted. "You think genocide is simply a "crime"?"
"I didn't have a choice. Lives were in danger. Entire WORLDS were..."
"And that excuses you? Why do you think your progenitor banished you? At least he understood the gravity of your sin"
I knew what I'd done. I'd do it again.
"So get on with it."
He looked me dead in my eye. "There's only one question worthy of the seriousness of your crime. The first question. The question that should never be answered."
He wouldn't. He can't!
"What is your name?"
He did. I couldn't.
My face like flint, my teeth clenched, I replied the only way I could...
"The Doctor..."
He smirked, shook his head in dissatisfaction, and stared me down.
"Doctor Who?"
|
My eyes open and adjust to the light. I'm in my 8th grade classroom. At the front of the room, the teacher stands at the desk.
"How did I get here?"
No response. A voice comes over the loudspeaker.
"You are guilty of genocide. Do you disagree?"
"No."
"All that pass must correctly answer a riddle to enter paradise. Incorrect answers result in punishment fitting your actions."
The teacher turns to the board and writes...
What are the first and last names of every individual killed by your genocide?
| 2017-06-03T06:45:01 | 2017-06-03T01:49:28 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] You've just been killed and wake up in a fantasy world. You can't understand anything of what these people are saying and they can't understand you, however, someone in what looks like high-priest looking clothes appears and yells:"Step aside, he's an Elder One".
|
"Goddamn it," I muttered to myself weakly as I laid dying in the hospital bed. Such shitty luck. Bad enough that I was dying from an terminal illness, but then to get struck by a drunk driver as I was crossing the street? Couldn't the universe give me a fucking break? I coughed and immediately winced at the sharp pain in my ribs. Fuck, they could have at least given me some more painkillers, so I could die in peace.
"Request approved. Pain resistance acquired for future reincarnation."
I looked around in confusion. Did someone say something? I squinted as I tried to see if there was anybody else in the room. Damn it, if only my glasses hadn't broken when the car hit me...I tried raising myself up from my bed, only to immediately fall back on the bed in agony as I remembered that my limbs had been mangled in the crash as well.
"Request approved. Additional eyes acquired. Multiple sets of tentacles acquired."
I learned back in my bed and sighed. Whatever, it didn't matter anymore. I just wished I had gotten to have a decent last meal instead of the bland hospital food they served here.
"Request approved. Additional feeding tubes acquired."
I looked down at the numerous tubes sticking out of my frail skinny arms as I felt myself bemoaning my tragic fate. Damn it, if I had just been born in a stronger, healthier body, I would have been able to survive this. Alas, though, I was doomed from the very beginning. Even if the car hadn't struck me, my illness would have killed me before I reached the age of 20. There were so many places in the world that I wanted to travel to before I died. But it was too late for any of that. In a few minutes, I was going to die trapped in this tiny bed all alone by myself.
"Request approved. Physical strength increased tenfold. Resistance to physical damage acquired. Resistance to disease acquired. Extreme longevity acquired. Flight acquired."
I sighed wearily. And now, as if life wasn't shitty enough, I was hearing voices in my head. Well, I wouldn't have to worry about that for long. I could see everything slowly fading into darkness as the last embers of life drained out of me. I didn't know if there really was a afterlife, but hopefully, it was a lot better than this one...
I heard the faint sound of screaming as I felt myself slowly awakening from a deep sleep. What was happening? Had I not died? My eyes flickered open, only to gaze upon the most bizarre scene I had ever seen. Gone were the hospital room and the life support machines. Instead, I seemed to be trapped within some kind of red cylindrical force field inside some kind of underground cavern. There was a group of masked figures in robes outside the force field that was screaming and arguing amongst each other. Was that ... Japanese they were speaking? What in the actual hell was happening? I opened my mouth to speak, but to my sudden shock, instead of English, a series of wet bubbling noises and loud shrills erupted from my mouth.
For the first time, I looked down and my stomach heaved as I realized that there was something deeply, deeply wrong with me. My humans legs were gone. Instead, I was somehow standing on five different twisted scaly limbs, each of one which ended in a massive webbed foot. What was even more shocking to me though was the enormous amount of tentacles sprouting out of my barrel shaped torso in every direction. As I felt myself becoming faint, I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fact that apparently, even my mouths I was breathing through were somehow composed of tentacles. This was obviously a dream, probably some crazy hallucination created by a dying mind. I just had to wake up from it. I tried mentally forcing myself to end this nightmare, but nothing happened. Panic started to build up inside me. Maybe, it was this stupid forcefield. Maybe, I had to get out of it for this dream to end. I reached out with one of my tentacles and touched the red forcefield in front of me. There was a loud sizzling sound as I saw my flesh start to burn, but surprisingly I didn't feel any pain. When I pulled back, it only took a few seconds for the damage to heal itself. Could I break through? In desperation, I started ramming the shield over and over again. "Let me out!" I yelled in a wild cacaphony of roars and shrieks.
Ludwig laughed maniacally as his fellow summoners turned and stared at him. "You fools!" he sneered. "You thought that you could summon a Legendary Hero to overthrow the Shadow Lord. But the Shadow Lord was already aware of your plans. That's why he sent me, to sabatoge your ritual and to summon a mighty Shoggoth from the eldritch plane instead!" He pulled out a dark tailsman from within his robes and turned toward the savage abomination, which was thrashing around with all its might within the force field. "Shoggoth, hear me! I command you to destroy these pathetic vermin and to lay waste to this entire country!"
"That's not a Shoggoth, you idiot! That's an Elder One!" someone shouted from behind him.
Ludwig turned and frowned. "What did you just --" He never finished his sentence. With one loud pop, the Elder One came bursting through the force field, crushing Ludwig into a bloody paste under its own weight.
|
It all started as an ordinary day. Went to school. Taught the first three periods. Got lunch. Taught another period. Idiot school shooter mowed me and half my fifth period down. I ask myself "Where the hell am I? Is this some Vanilla Sky bullshit?" Nope this place is too weird. All these fish people... merfolk? walking around. They got these gills on their necks and they got fish scales instead of most of there skin. Webbed fingers. Weird. Me? Yep I'm still me, nothing out of the ordinary, same mahogany flesh, not even any blood on my rubber chicken themed tie. The kids love this tie, I was really worried. Seriously who shoots kids?
"Excuse me, I seem to be lost? How do I get back, it's kinda important." I asked the first fish person.
And they all fled from me screaming, ducking into houses and shops. Well that isn't good. Some even hurled small spells at me! Nothing a teacher couldn't dodged.
Maybe I should seek help somewhere? So I start walking. Let's see what we got. Police station? I'm the wrong skin type for that to be a good idea. Butcher shop? I'm liable to be fillet. Town hall? Same problem as police. Christian Church? Library? School? Apartment complex... wait a moment... Why is there a christan church? So I doubled back and tried the front door. Open. Sanctuary at last!
The pews were full with merfolk staring at the pulpit. The preacher looked up from his liturgy, saw me and paused. He exclaimed and pointed "Look! An Old One Is Among Us! He has arisen from the deeps! Throw off the Shackles of Cthulhu and Embrace the Old God!"
I noped the fuck out of there.
| 2021-10-16T04:04:44 | 2021-10-16T03:57:04 | 354 | 54 |
[WP] You've had recurring dreams for years about an amazing woman. In your dreams, she's the love of your life, your best friend and knows you like no one else. One day you spot a familiar face through the crowd, staring at you like a deer in headlights.
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The dream always starts and ends the same way. I hear her voice drift up from downstairs, humming a melody I can't recognize. Then in-between we go about our days - dates, trips to the grocery store, hikes, conversations. And at the end, we slow-dance together in the living room - gently, freely - to the very same tune she hummed.
I'm getting on in years, I'll admit. The nurse told me today that I had to stop driving, and every time I went out I had to be accompanied by someone. I argued with her for a bit, but I knew deep down she was right. My mind's not as sharp as it used to be.
So today Nurse Brenna came with me to the farmer's market. Just as crowded as you would expect for a pleasant Saturday morning in Chicago. I was picking up a corncob, hands trembling, when I glanced over towards the pastry stand. It was like plunging my face into an ice bath. There she was.
I handed the corncob to Nurse Brenna and hobbled towards the woman - the woman I'd encountered so many times, so many nights - with as much speed as I could muster. When I got close, I blurted something out, embarrassingly, but it was like my mind and body were wholly independent.
"I feel like I've known you forever."
She turned to me, briefly glancing away from the scone she was examining.
"Oh. I get that a lot. You might have seen me on a billboard or in a a magazine somewhere. I used to be a model about a decade ago."
I frowned. "No, I swear - I think we know each other. You've been in my dreams; we talk for hours..."
Nurse Brenna comes marching over and gently grasps my arm.
"Let's get on over to the cashier, Hank," she says.
The woman of my dreams smiles - the same smile I've seen so many nights.
"It was nice meeting you, Hank. Take care."
***
Every week I see her at the farmer's market. We go at the same time. It's like our schedules are aligned by day and night alike. And she shows up in my dreams even more often than before.
I never married. I never had children. They're things I knew I wanted since I was a teenager, but I could never get the guts to ask anyone out. So I've made do. But it's mortifying to have nurses telling me what I can and can't do. I've done just fine for myself.
"Hello again," I said the fourth time our paths crossed.
"Hello, Hank. Find everything you were looking for?"
"Yes."
"Me too."
"So..." I take a chance. "You remember that time we talked about the universe and coincidences."
"Well, I..." She looks around. Hesitates. "Yes. I think I do."
"We talked about how we don't believe in chances - we believe in alignment."
"Yes - sure."
"That was a good day."
She smiles weakly. "It was."
"Will you come visit me sometime?"
"I'm...well, I...I'm sort of busy, Hank."
"I understand. No problem. But if you ever want to drop by I'm over at Gentle Pastures Retirement Community, Suite 203B."
"OK, Hank."
I thought that would be the end of it. But she came over the next Saturday, in the early evening, and we talked. We talked about our lives, our careers, our hopes. It wasn't exactly the same as the dreams, but it was close. Damn close.
***
She's come every Saturday now. Cindy's her name - I think. Always perfectly friendly and kind. I'm forgetting things a lot - my keys, brushing my teeth, even forgot to put on my shirt one time before going down to breakfast. The nurses are keeping a closer eye on me now. And Cindy - Cynthia? Or maybe it was Clarice...well, she's here for me every week. I always look forward to it.
I'm not having as many dreams now. My sleep is fitful. I feel scared a lot more. Nurse Brenna told me they wanted to put me in Intensive Care. I'm not sure what that means. I know she explained it, but it feels wrong.
The woman returned that same evening. I do remember this, clear as day. I told her I was scared and asked if she'd dance with me. She nodded. And as we slow-danced in my apartment, she began to hum a song, and then sing the lyrics:
"There's that lonely feeling again/here it comes a-stealing again..."
The song she hummed every morning, and that we danced to each night.
"Though I try to tell my heart to make the best of it/My lips are sincere but my heart just won't hear the rest..."
Her singing trailed off and she gave me a gentle kiss on my forehead. "Goodbye, Hank."
I grasped her hand firmly, then let it go. "Goodbye. And thank you."
I'm going to Intensive Care tomorrow. I feel myself deteriorating. But the music is seared into my memory for this moment - and so is she.
|
She wore a blue sweater. Her emerald eyes were too big for her face. She stared at me. I couldn't take my eyes off her, she sparkled among the masses that crowded the streets. Her stride was elegant and measured. She kept walking towards me.
"Samples?" I asked her as she inspected my stall with her beautiful eyes.
She stopped to look at the Cuban sandwiches that sat in a tray in front of me. Her eyes then lifted from the sandwiches and met mine.
"Okay. I'll try one," she said.
Her beautiful long fingers lifted one of the sandwiches off the table. She ate it elegantly, mindfully, like I had seen her do hundreds of times.
"That's really good," she said.
"Who are you guys? Where is this place?"
The place. The place where we had bonded over coffee, hundreds of times.
"It's La Flame. Opposite to the downtown Tesco's," I said.
"I think I'll be visiting soon," she said and smiled.
"Thank you, Mam," I said and bowed.
She started to walk away like she always did. Every night I'd talk to her and she'd listen and she'd understand. The love of my life, who always walked away and faded as the morning came. This time she was real, but she walked away all the same. Well, maybe she'll visit the restaurant sometime, I thought.
| 2020-09-14T13:07:09 | 2020-09-14T12:58:10 | 271 | 39 |
[WP] For every 10 lives you save, you get an extra life for yourself, shown as a number visible only to you on your wrist. Waking up with bad hangover after a particularly rowdy night, you look at your arm through blurry eyes to see the faintly glowing number: 700,000,000.
|
My eyes have become three sizes larger and a construction crew has taken up residence behind them, based on the pounding in there.
I roll over and sunlight washes over my eyelids. I angrily squint at the sun and hate myself for not closing the curtains enough. Then I let out a groan that would make any zombie actor jealous.
There is no construction crew. My eyes haven't grown three sizes.
I had too much to drink last night.
I squeeze my eyes tighter to try in vain to block the sunlight out. Then I slam my hand around on my nightstand, knock over a glass of water and scatter what felt like two small pills. Cursing myself, I am forced to open my eyes and right the glass, saving just a little water. Then I have to lean over the bed and find the pills.
I brush off a little bit of hair, never hurt anyone, and down both pills with what's left of the water. Drunk me is always so kind to hungover me, and hungover me is an asshole that ruins what drunk me did.
I rub my face, sitting on the edge of the bed, and try to stop the carousel my brain is on. I squint at the clock, water beading from the face of it, and read the digital numbers out slowly. Very slowly.
"One thirteen."
It is the afternoon, well and truly, the light confirms that. I've never known there to be that much light at one in the am.
Rolling my neck, I stretch sore and stiff muscles that haven't quite woken yet. I let out another zombie groan and try to stand, failing. I take a deep breath and make another attempt, this time succeeding in standing. It might be wobbly and I might be nearly overwhelmed by the urge to vomit, but it is a decent version of standing.
Stumbling to the kitchen, I find the coffee maker ready and loaded with dry grounds and a clean mug, because drunk me is the best. Pushing the button for coffee brings the machine to life, sputtering soaking up the reservoir to spit out sweet, sweet black brew.
One, two, three, four spoonfuls of sugar (it's the quickest cure I've found) and a dousing of cream and I sip it, careful not to burn my tongue too badly. Each breath is a slow in and out. It's all rather mundane and normal for a hangover morning.
Until I rub my forearm.
It's always been there. Faint green numbers. I told my parents about them once and I learned my lesson pretty quickly. Don't tell people about weird shit cause you'll end up in therapy for years, figuring out how to tell them what they want to hear. The numbers are real though, as real as the coffee in my mug and the pounding in my head.
I have to be seeing double. Triple. Quadruple. Except I'm holding just one mug, seeing just one fuzzy version of my kitchen. But there's a lot of zeroes. I rub my forearm, the numbers disappearing beneath my hand as I do, but there they are again. With all those zeroes.
See, the numbers mean something. I figured that out by my eighteenth birthday. Save a life, get a decimal. Point one. Earliest I remember was it being at 0.1. A tenth of a life. Never made the connection until much later that my mom's joke about "he's a lifesaver" wasn't a lie. She'd been ready to go until I happened. Happy mistake. By eighteen it was .9 but I hadn't quite got it yet.
Most times it changed for no reason. No obvious reason. Looking back it was a smile for no reason, a text that I was ten minutes behind, stuff that made a big difference to someone that wasn't me.
Nothing about the numbers was clear until I was at the bus stop waiting to go home, head down and headphones in. Just trying to be invisible. The weirdo kid who sees things, they'd dubbed me. Two other kids were goofing around, pushing each other, standard stuff. One of them tripped on the uneven sidewalk and started falling past me towards the road. I grabbed him and pulled him back. Just missed the front end of the bus. The driver laid into all of us about responsibility and the like.
And that .9 become a 1. A solid, light green 1.
Save ten lives, and get one.
Get one what?
Well, that one was easier to figure out. The summer that I was nineteenth was a good one. I was at a cottage with my family. There was a floating dock. I was trying to execute a triple flip (read: a simple dive) when I slipped and caught the back of my head on the corner of it. When I woke up it was almost a week later and the doctors said I should have died.
And my numbers were down to nada.
I was buying myself lives with the lives of others.
So I did what any self respecting human would do. I threw myself into a career as a paramedic and pumped those numbers up. That let me live a life I couldn't have otherwise. Three years of doing that job and I had amassed a respectable six spare lives, and all that by twenty three years old.
Of course, I had used two.
Still. Not bad. This is new though. The zeroes, so many of them. I have to count them a few times.
Eight zeroes.
So, ten for one means...
I drop the mug and it shatters on the tile, spilling coffee everywhere. Not that it matters right now. If this is right...
I can't catch my breath. My head spines, I lean over the sink and try to keep it together. It's impossible. Last night is foggy but it's impossible.
Somehow, some way, I saved enough lives to amass seven hundred million spares.
That means...
"I saved the whole goddamn planet." I say out loud, because internalizing it seems to make things worse. I have to say it aloud.
And then, the inevitable.
I vomit into the sink.
Because how, how in the everloving reality of realness, did I save everyone?
And why can't I remember?
Where do I ever start to find out?
And then someone knocks on my door and a voice I don't recognize shouts through it, loud enough I can hear it from the hallway in my kitchen.
"We need to talk!"
"I'm busy!" I shout back.
"Not too busy to talk to me!" The voice says.
"Fuck off!"
I am met with silence. And then my door is kicked in, splintering, and a man I do not know stands there. He is clearly enraged. Furious. Red in the face. Spitting mad. Pissed.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"Gods, you don't ever remember." He says, some of the anger deflating from him like some sort of enraged balloon. "You took advantage of me."
"Excuse me?" I say, pushing back against the counter.
"No," he sighs, rubs his eyes, red eyes that scream of the hangover I've somehow forgotten. "Not that. You and I got drunk, made a bet, and you won. I am in the deepest shit. And you did it. So, now you have to help me fix it."
"I don't understand-"
He is suddenly holding me by my shirt, lifting me against the counter, his face almost against mine. Except his face isn't the human face I saw just a moment ago. It's a skull, shrouded in black, and it's talking to me.
"I am Death and you stole seven billion lives from me. And now, we're going to fix it!"
There are three heartbeats of a pause, just long enough for those words to sink in.
And just enough time for me to vomit down the front of his shifting black robes.
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cwm899/wp_for_every_10_lives_you_save_you_get_an_extra/eyhrdxp/)
|
“I can’t believe you’ve done this,” Parker said as he stared at the monitor over my shoulder.
It’s only been three days since—in what I thought was a great act of charity—donated half of my extra lives. In all honesty, I can’t even remember how I’d earned them in the first place. I had a vague recollection of walking down a street. An unmarked truck. The rest is obscured by a veil of vodka.
“How could I have known?” I ran a hand through my hair, not wanting to believe the news on the screen. “When I donated those lives… I thought they’d be used for good, like helping firefighters.” I mentally added police, the terminally ill, accident victims—people who could have benefited from an extra life or two.
“Why would a firefighter need your extra lives? They already up enough on their own.” Parker shook his head and whistled a note of derision. “Why on Earth did you do it as an auction though?”
“I thought I could raise money for charity,” I said, feeling foolish in retrospect. Hindsight is 20/20 and everything I had done since gaining my 700,000,000 extra lives was looking pretty shitty. “I even put a limit of two lives per user. I didn’t think—”
“Obviously they had fake accounts.” Parker started pacing the room. “It says they haven’t lost a single soldier. Their saying that without the threat of permanent death, their fighting more ruthlessly than they otherwise would have.”
A single nation state with an invincible army. When one soldier falls, they wake up in the place they last slept, safe and un-scarred. The worst part is that all the battlefield knowledge—what works and what doesn’t, as well as what got them killed and how to prevent it next time—stays with them. Their deaths actually improve them.
“Thank God they haven’t used any nukes,” Parker said. “They probably don’t even have any.” He gave me a look and I knew what was being left unsaid: *not yet*.
“Right,” I said and rose from my chair. “I guess I have no other option, do I?”
“What are you going to do?” Parker blocked the way to the door.
“I’m going to fight. I still have over a quarter of a million lives.” I looked past him, to the door, beyond it, as if could already see the next couple of months. Years. The endless amount of deaths I’d endure. The killing I’d have to—
“You? Can’t you just give your extra lives to the allied forces?” Parker shook his head. “You’re just one person.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I see now what happens when you give an army the chance to escape death. They become unstoppable. It’s like a weapon—a big one—wielded by people who didn’t earn it. That’s why most people don’t donate their lives. I see that now. The people who most deserve a second chance, are people who earn them in the first place.”
 
** *** **
Over the years I have died over ten thousand times.
The deaths were almost a daily occurrence for a while as I led the charges, pulled friends out of a hail of gunfire, made a blind step onto some hidden trap. Each time, the same thing: immense pain followed by waking in the bed I’d last slept in. It was like living in a game, and in the beginning I’d actually believed it was.
Then, as my senses adapted, the deaths became less frequent. Months would pass in between using an extra life. I’d developed an additional sense, so acute that I could predict when a shot would be fired, where the enemy would be coming from, and how the slightest disturbance in the ground could signify a mine or punji sticks under a false canopy.
I moved through the battle field like a ghost. Often I fought at night. Alone. I hunted across the enemy line as I realized the best way to defeat them—like a game—would be to camp at their spawn. Their barracks.
After I crept in, and before I lay my knife into them, I'd rest beside them. A small nap. somewhere nearby but safe, to reset my save point. Then, I'd wake up ready to reclaim my those lives I'd so foolishly given away.
| 2019-08-28T10:01:10 | 2019-08-28T09:38:23 | 3,431 | 2,116 |
[WP] "Daddy are angels and demons the same thing?" Your daughter cries. "That depends, why do you ask, honey?" you inquire. "They come every night. Both have too long fingers, jagged teeth, and wheels within wheels within wheels for eyes. They keep asking me to choose."
|
[Audio version](https://youtu.be/xIvIreMKC-g) by u/blu_ski !!
*
“Dad,” Thea asked as I pulled the blanket up around her chin, “are angels and demons the same thing?”
I blinked. Rachel and I hadn’t raised any of our kids to be religious, but we’d gotten them baptized, mostly to ward off my mother’s nagging. “Why are you thinking about this?”
Thea shrugged, her curls spilling over her pillow.
“Are you thinking about Liam’s baptism?” Our youngest had been nearly baptized nearly two months ago now, but if I was learning anything about kids, it was that ideas tended to stick. Plus, Thea had just started grade 4. Who knew what the kids had been talking about.
Again, Thea shrugged. “I think that’s when it started.” She picked at a thread on her blanket and didn’t meet my eyes.
“We’re gonna go see Grandma Cara on Monday, okay? If you have questions, you can ask her then too.” Mentally, I swore. The last thing I needed was giving Mom a reason to say ‘I told you so’.
Thea nodded, though. That was an acceptable answer for her. “They never bother me around Grandma.”
My heart froze; it beat out of rhythm once, then twice, then jolted again. “What?”
Thea pulled her blanket around her shoulder, grabbed her stuffed dolphin, and rolled to face her wall. “They come see me sometimes. I can’t tell them apart--they both have long fingers and wheels for eyes.”
“Wheels for eyes?”
“Da-ad.” She huffed. “Like in Coraline. But not with buttons, with wheels.”
“Oh. Right.” I leaned in and hugged her. I hoped she didn’t notice that I was shaking, that my skin was cool and clammy. “I’m your silly old dad. You need to explain things to me sometimes.”
“Da-ad,” she whined again, but a hint of a giggle escaped from underneath.
“Goodnight sweetheart,” I said and planted a kiss on her temple. I swallowed, my throat thick with phlegm.
My head span as I walked across the room. She was just making it up, right? I’d seen those reddit threads--kids said weird shit sometimes.
But as my hand curled around the doorknob, Thea spoke again. “Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“What should I do when they ask me to choose?”
A jolt of electricity arcked down my spine. My limbs felt numb and heavy and useless. Still, I tried to keep my face impassive. “You don’t need to tell people anything, Thea. Remember what we talked about? You never have to answer questions that make you uncomfortable or tell people more than you want to.”
Thea sat in her bed and stared for a moment, the way she always did when she was thinking. “Okay,” she finally said. She grabbed Dori the Dolphin, held her close to her chest, and laid down again. I guess my answer was enough.
But as I closed her door behind me, I couldn’t help but thinking how completely *wrong* I was. Had my parents always had this much doubt? I’d thought they knew what they were doing. Maybe that’s part of being a parent--faking it. Thea was our oldest; there were things I was still learning.
So I sat down at the kitchen table in front of the bowl of fruit. That was odd--I’d bought them just a few days ago. But the apples were black; the bananas were brown and spotted.
I shook my head and pulled out my phone and punched in a familiar number. It only rang once.
“Hello?”
“Hey, mom.”
“Oh Tom! Jack, it’s Tom,” I heard her say away from the phone to my dad, who was undoubtedly watching some sports match and probably didn’t care that I called. We lived in the same city, after all, only 20 minutes away from each other.
“Tom, did I tell you the story about Lydia at the end of the street? Husband passed not a month ago and she’s already had a gentleman caller--”
“That’s great Mom,” I said, “but I actually had a question for you.”
“Of course.”
“Um, could you maybe talk to Thea about religion a bit? She’s had some questions lately. I don’t know how to answer them.”
Mom was uncharacteristically quiet on the other end of the line. “Questions?”
“Yeah.”
“About God?”
“Well, about angels and demons, but yeah.” I breathed out. I’d be fine. Mom could help with this.
“Tom.” My Mom’s voice was still like water. “Has she said anything about what they look like?”
My brain slowed--I couldn’t catch up with her question. “Yeah--I mean, a little. Why?”
“Fuck.”
That word made my heart drop into the pit in my gut. My mother *never* swore. The one time I’d heard her swear as a kid, she’d dragged us both to confession afterward. And there was nothing worse than being twelve and sitting in front of Father Michael being told to confess your sins or parish.
“Mom?”
“I’m coming now,” she said. “I’m calling Father Michael too. He'll bring holy water.”
“Mom?”
"Jack?" Her voice was distant, clearly calling to Dad. "Have you seen my sword?"
"Mom. What's going on?"
“Sorry, sorry. Tom. I hoped we had more time--she’s still young. Fuck.”
“Mom?” My hand was pins and needles. I didn’t know how I was still holding my phone. “What do you mean?”
“Thomas John Malone,” Mom said in her best ‘do not mess with me’ voice. “I am on my way. We’ll fix this. But until I get there, for the love of God, do *not* leave Thea alone.”
---
r/liswrites
**EDIT** Y’all... I’m blown away by the response to this!! You’re all amazing. Unfortunately, I don’t think I have a part 2 in me for this one. But feel free to imagine a family tree of demon fighting women :)
I am working on another multi part story though if you want to check it out [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/LisWrites/comments/j5oju2/the_ace_of_cups_prolouge/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf)
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“There is a limit to what the human mind can comprehend”. The old, old priest leans back in his chair and stares at the ceiling “We are only mortal and cannot process the raw amount of information put out by celestial or evil spirits, and our brain attempts to substitute them for another image. Now in most cases Demons have been described as what your daughter has been describing, while Angelic spirits are often mistaken for the grim reaper. And often stand at the furthest corner of the room. He grunts and tries to stand up “I will make the necessary alterations to your daughters room so that she can see more clearly tonight”.
“How much will that cost?”
“Absolutely nothing!” He laughs “I do not charge to protect a child of God from the evils of hell! I am paid all I need to buy my meals and pay my bills by the Parish. I shall arrive at your house around four this evening and shall leave by around four thirty, are you catholic?”
“No sir, my wife is an atheist and I just look at God as something other”.
“It would be wise then, to tell your wife to pray. Demons start to look for new targets when rejected”.
Amy was laying in her bed, reciting the prayer the priest. Father Maximilian Fields, has given her.
“Saint Michal, the archangel, defend us in battle”.
“They have resorted to holy artifacts”. Hissed an evil voice. The forms that had tormented her appearing. She started shaking in terror as they chanted “choose, choose, choose”. Behind them in the furthest corner of the room a figure clad in a dark cloak and hood stood, motionless “I CHOOSE THE ONE IN THE CORNER!” She screamed pointing to the apportion, the two terrors hissed in venomous hatred and one started to reach out towards Amy, only to screech and pull back when he came within the circle of Holy Salt surrounding the bed. The dark figure began to move, and the demons cowered before it. Eventually the two demons disappeared completely and the dark figure was next to Amy’s bed “well chosen” it spoke in a calming and placid voice “I am Malchezidech, your Guardian angel. This is the last time you Will ever see me, but know I am always with you, you are important Amy, a Great War is coming. And you will be leading it”.
For a brief moment Amy saw the angel as it was, an awe inspiring maelstrom of rings, eyes, and wings. It spoke again “I will always be with you”. Then vanished.
In his small room Father Fields finished his rosary and smiled. The child and her family were now safe. They would be coming after him, thankfully. He had Michal to look after him “we should prepare” he said gathering his exorcism materials “they will be here soon”.
Well now I can say I’ve gotten a reddit gold :D thanks!
| 2020-10-31T07:21:08 | 2020-10-31T07:18:29 | 3,393 | 565 |
[WP] A post-apocalyptic world filled with hope, not despair.
I was recently gifted and played a game called Submerged where you boat around a flooded and overgrown city, searching for supplies, and I was struck with how optimistic and hopeful the place felt, despite all the undeniably bad things that kept happening.
|
I looked out my window to see a Reazdid in my front yard rummaging for acorns, even as I stare at its hairy pink snout, I'm still amazed at how quickly they've adapted.
As Doctor Newsome says, "It may have taken man a hundred thousand years to reach this level of technology, but with this technology, we sent him back in days".
These Reazdids that only months ago relentlessly sucked away the resources of our precious planet are now in balance with nature. They scavenge what they can, whether it's a nut like the one I'm watching now pops into its (I think his?) mouth and slowly chews, or whether they are cannibalizing one of their own that has succumbed to the symphony of changing genes. Cannibalism has taken a bad rap, I’d much rather have it, than decomposing bodies everywhere.
I’m still amazed I’m here and not one of them, what dumb luck I have.
Back in December, I left work early to surprise my girlfriend for her birthday; I just wasn’t expecting to find her in her birthday suit with Mike when I opened the door. Seeing how it was her apartment that I lived in, I didn’t really have anywhere to go, and in my shocked state I found myself heading to the diner down the street.
As I sat in the back of a diner trying to hide the tears falling into my shake, he approached me. “You look like you haven’t had the best day son”.
I looked up into his grey eyes expecting to see pity, but my hurt was reflected back at me. “I cry most days myself, there is no shame” he said. “My tears are for the world, for what we could be, and what we have become”. He sat down next to me and ordered a coffee shake, and we got to talking.
Never in my life had I met someone with that kind of passion. Sure, you get stopped on the street all the time by brainwashed millennia’s asking you to sign a petition for their cause to save the planet, but their calls to action in the grand scheme of things would do nothing. From that moment on, he slowly drew me into his organization and plans for the world.
We humans have done drastic things to the planet, things that can’t be undone when we have 8 billion people living here. In reality, this earth can’t even support 1 billion people, if they are living like we do in our 1st world countries. To actually keep mankind progressing, SciEver calculated we need around 50 million people on the planet. Seeing how the AI knew things about me that I didn’t even know, I trusted it’s judgment. It was enough people to ensure genetic diversity, while providing enough redundancy in education, industry and manufacturing to keep mankind moving forward.
And what do you know; SciEver was able to find a recessive gene that somewhere around 50 million people in the world had, which would keep them from changing.
But there was work to be done before we released it . 50 million random people in the world wasn’t going to cut it, that is only a little over .5% of the world, and there are just too many specific skills we would need to leave it to random genes.
I became a Lifetender, there was a small army of us traveling across the US, and many more across the world. It really wasn’t hard, with the money and brains our organization had, along with SciEver’s ingenuity, hacking into various government databases and running algorithms to find the people we needed to stay alive was easy. Delivering the dose was the creative part.
Sometimes I’d just be sitting next to them at a bar and would slip it into their drink like a roofie. For those that were introverts and didn’t socialize much; we used the Skinsetter, an amazing tool that could deliver the dose just by contacting their skin. Accidently run into them as they are exiting a building, just need the Skinsetter to make contact, and the deed was done, unrequested immunotherapy.
Another aspect was making sure those that survived didn’t go nuts. Crazy people aren’t going to build the future of humanity. If there is a genius astrophysicist that SciEver has targeted as a keeper, he or she probably won’t be very useful if everyone they know is a Reazdid or dead.
That was the genius to the immunotherapy. Once you were treated, you could pass the immunity onto others as long as the other person’s genetic makeup was very similar. After treatment, if you spent some amount of time with your immediate family, or perhaps even extended family, the immunity would transfer to them. This ensured people still had their family, and hence their sanity, to live for when rebuilding a better humanity.
We even got away with it.
Now, it is thought that all 50 million of us humans that are still around just ended up having the random genetics to fight off the infection, and that infection is still believed to have been transmitted by a mutated rodent disease. No one suspects us, and who would, when we are the ones that rose to the challenge to keep the .5% of humanity that was still around functioning.
In reality, we knew it was coming, and had planned with the help of SciEver every step of how to transition mankind to his new role on the earth.
Sure, we may still be polluting the earth, but with only .5% of the population left, the earth recovers faster than we can hurt her. With the minds we have saved, and SciEver’s ingenuity, our new inventions will allow us to rule this world without fear of destroying it in the so many different ways mankind could have done in the past.
We are our own saviors.
|
A mutant saved my life today, not for the first time. I was going down to the local street market, in the ruins of the old industrial district, to see what fresh produce the latest caravan had brought. The mutants silently offer to help me every day, which gets annoying, and they'd do all my grocery shopping, if I let them. Anyway, I tripped on a curb and broke my hip. I've grown old, dammit. I don't know when it happened. One of them picked me up, as they always do, and took me to their healer. I didn't know his name, we've never been able to talk, me and the mutants, but it's never made a difference. Maybe they don't have names.
They are remarkable, these creatures with their hairless, bloated skulls and bright eyes. Not human, not inhuman. They strive and they love, they wish and they fail. Family means nothing to them. When one is in pain, whoever is physically nearest will comfort them, even if they have never met before. When they stumble, they are caught, when they struggle, they are aided. It turns out, sometimes that nearest person is me, and I try. I try more than I ever thought I could. Since doomsday, I've learned things about myself. Good things.
It's not fair to say they're rebuilding, they're just building. They take our old technology apart with ease and put it back together, cleaner, safer. Gentler, in a strange way. Who taught them? I certainly can't take the credit. I've come to accept that it's beyond my understanding, and I consider it a privilege to have glimpsed this long into their new world.
As far as I know, which admittedly only reaches to the city limits, I'm the last living human on earth. So please forgive my arrogance, in speaking for my entire race, when I say, it's okay. When I die, if humanity dies with me, it's okay. We were sometimes good, and more often bad, but our children will have a better life than we did. What more could any father ask for?
| 2015-12-26T19:29:53 | 2015-12-26T18:02:27 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Group of space Marines travels via a stargate like portal to an "virgin" world. However due to passing a black hole, each Marine arrives 100 years after the Marine in front of them, instead of 1-5 seconds.
Due to the portal queuing up the dozen or so Marines for 1200 years, travel to point of origin is not an option(it won't work until all the marines have made it through). Explain what each Marine sees as they step out of the portal, to discover they are alone, and possible viewing the remains/artifacts of those who came before them, and or the civilization created by those in front of them with native peoples.
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Sergeant Flores was the third to step into the portal, right behind Dr. Penn and PFC Smith. Instead of the expected near instantaneous transfer through black, she saw blurs of light, and at the same time all the air was sucked out of her lungs. She felt like she was falling, and at the same time like something was trying to pull her head and her feet off. Her tears started to boil straight off her eyeballs and she closed her eyes. Her ears felt like they would burst.
Just as she was about to lose consciousness, gravity and air returned and she fell heavily onto her backpack. She lay on her back, unable to catch her breath. She opened her eyes and saw blue sky overhead, but then lost consciousness.
Slowly, she became aware. At first she thought she was waking in her bunk after being ill - she couldn't recall what had happened. But, it wasn't her bunk - there was bright light behind the closed eyelids. She heard a voice, the voice of a weak old man, heard as though at a great distance - her ears hadn't full recovered yet. She opened her eyes and saw a wisened old man leaning over her. "Welcome Sergeant Flores!" The man smiled.
"What happened? Where am I?"
"You've had a shock. Take a minute to adjust - you'll need it. Here, sit up and have some water."
She sat up and found she was sitting on soft grass, surrounded by a forest. The old man was clothed simply in homespun cloth. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn't place him. She accepted the water he offered in a wooden cup.
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked.
"I don't know. I... think it was training for a portal mission. I don't remember the mission though. I don't even remember going through the portal."
"That's because the trip through the portal wasn't typical. You're expecting to remember a brief blackness and then someplace else. It didn't happen that way."
The memory came flooding back and her breath stocked. "Where's my team? Am I on the target planet? What happened?"
"You are on the target planet. As near as I can make out, the portal path passes very close to a black hole, causing both prolonged transit and delay in transfer." He looked at her expectantly.
"The target planet is supposed to be virgin. Who are you?"
Instead of answering, the old man scratched the back of his head, looked down at the ground, then looked back at her, expectantly. Just the way Dr. Penn did, when he was expecting her to come up with the answer on her... own... "Oh, God! No! No! No!"
"I'm afraid so."
"How do we warn them?! How do we stop them?! They'll all die here, just like us!"
"We can't. They're all in transit, and have been for hundreds of years. Just like you."
"Hundreds of years? How old are you? How long have you been waiting for me?"
"It's been just shy of a hundred sol years. A day here is 25 hours and a year is 296 days - I've been keeping track. I was 19 when I stepped into the portal - quite young for a doctor."
"How did you survive?"
"Smith left a shelter and lots of notes on what is edible and what plants and animals are otherwise useful, that helped a lot. Are you familiar with the theory that calorie restriction prolongs life? It appears to have worked for me. That, and I come from long-lived stock. If you're feeling up to it, I'll show you around."
"What's the point? We're all going to die here! Why prolong it?"
"We all die sometime. What's the point when we aren't stranded?" Again, he scratched his head, looked at the ground, then looked at her expectantly.
What was the point? Coffee aside, why did Sergent Maria Flores get up in the morning? "Because my team needs me."
"Yep. I needed Smith. You need me, and at this point, it's a miracle I've lived this long - I need you, too. Come, let's see the camp." And with that, he picked up a cane and slowly, carefully got to his feet.
Her heavy pack pulled at her shoulders, so she undid the straps and slid out of it, then slowly stood up - she was still feeling unsteady from her trip through the portal. The old man, Dr. Penn, she corrected herself, was slowly making his way down a beaten dirt path, speaking aloud to himself as he went.
...
"So, from here, you can begin to make out individual buildings."
"What, you made a whole small village, just for yourself?"
"More of a farm at this point. Those two buildings over there away from the others, they're the cooking building and the forge. Both burned down twice before I made them from stone. The wood from the trees here catches easily and burns hot, which has its advantages and disadvantages."
She looked for, and saw, the old white scars in the wrinkles of his left arm and leg. The side where he held the cane.
"Over there is the paddock. Betsy is a dear old soul and is very patient when I strap myself to her. I daren't ride without tying myself tight anymore."
"What? You found horses here?"
"Of a sort. They have six legs and are slower than Earth horses, but they're good in tough terrain. It was a bitch training them, and I don't want you to have to start from scratch."
"I see you've built yourself some wind power over there. Do you use it to pump water?"
"Actually, no. I use it to generate electricity."
"Electricity?! What on Earth do you need electricity for?!"
"Well, for one, to recharge my laptop batteries. For another, I like having light at night. And then there's the refrigeration unit."
"What... how... are you ... why? If you have enough to eat and get by, why not relax?"
Dr. George Penn scratched his head, but then said "I thought we went over this."
"Because my team needs me. But... I'm the only team you've got, and I don't need all this!"
"Well, no. But you might. Especially if you don't want to be alone for the rest of your life."
"But, ..." Her eyes grew wide. "No! No, no no! I'm too young! I haven't finished my commission, I... oh, fuck. I'm an idiot."
"No, you're not. You just haven't had time to adjust."
"Isn't it rather presumptuous to think I might want to... especially when you're so old?"
"Would it have been presumptuous of me to not offer when I could? Besides, I made sure there are more options: if you prefer the artificial way, you'll find little vials in the refrigeration unit and complete instructions posted on the door. After all, it was only luck that I made it this far."
...
PFC Nusbaum fell heavily onto his side and passed out. He awoke to someone gently shaking him. "Welcome, Private Nusbaum" said a young woman. "We've been expecting you!"
|
I feel the energy dissipate around me.
We left Holy Terra as twelve but here I arrive as one.
Radio silence.
Strange. But stranger still, we identified this planet as barren, yet I stand upon a forest floor.
Dozens of green dots dart across my scanner's display. Movement?
None move towards my position,
they weave and zig-zag before moving out of range, only to be replaced by more.
Advanced Scan.
A lock is acquired on one of them.
Identified - Organic.
How can this be. I stare for a moment at the light beaming down from above the canopy and ask myself, "Where are my brothers".
The trees seem to be more dispersed to the East, perhaps they sought to leave this forest. As I move, my scanner shows the life-forms keep well away from me,
they fear the sound of the splintering branches, the hiss from the pneumatics of my power armor, their green world invaded by an adamantium clad servant of the Emperium.
The Emperor protects.
I walk nigh 30 minutes before noticing the further I travel the more the trees seem as though they are wilting, the life leaving them. There are no more life-forms within range now, the forest floor has become akin to a scab,
crusted and black, in the places the scab is broken, a thick yellow liquid oozes from the soil.
Unidentified - Origin unknown.
I suspect the taint of The Warp.
Chaos.
Cursed heretics, I can only imagine the fate of my brothers at the hands of-
INCOMMING COMMUNICATION.
A familiar voice utters my name. "Brother Marcus, at last you reach us"
I pass the final sickened tree. Now I see this green world for what it really is, this land is featureless, the earth is scorched and bubbling for as far as I can see, What madness befell this planet?
"Do not falter brother" - The voice returns, but not through my communicator. I glance to my right and there they stand. Two space marines, over the corpse of a large alien beast. One is without his helmet, his power armour has seen battle, eyes fixed on me - Brother Gaius.
The other dons his full power armour, he places his foot on the dead creature's neck as he rips his power sword from its abdomen, spilling its insides. I recognize the purity seals emblazoned on his armour - Brother Quintus.
However, I am still confused. "Where are our brothers" I ask. "They will come" replied Gaius, staring into the forest, "in time" he adds. Brother Quintus silences my thoughts - "We stand until our brothers arrive", pointing to the sky.
Far above the planet, I see the dark shapes take form, they seem to splinter in the sky, the splinters burn red as they breach the planet's atmosphere. Hive ships.
"Damned Xenos" I growl.
The splinters impact in the distance, one at a time, even from here we see the horde of filth rip forth from their confines, their hollow eyes and razor talons. Hundreds. The screeching begins as the swarm begins to gravitate towards us, the sound is only too familiar.
I check the magazine on my Bolt Pistol then tear my Chainsword from its sheath.
Brother Gaius coolly charges his Multi-Melta whilst Brother Quintus raises his Power Sword and steadies himself.
"We stand until our brothers arrive".
| 2014-09-02T12:33:17 | 2014-09-02T11:20:25 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] You are an archaeologist. While digging, you find an immortal that has been buried there, for ages, still alive.
I guess you can choose what time the immortal is from.
|
The sun sat low in the sky, shining a blistering red light over the desert valley. James had almost finished his day's excavation, with no significant discoveries. James was sure that he was on to something, else he would never have returned to the Valley of Kings in Egypt. He *hated* Egypt, ever since he almost died from a lethal snake bite several years before. But this time was different.
Six months earlier, James had been on a trip to the Yucatan Peninsula when he came across a rather out of place tablet. This tablet, James later learned, was of Egyptian origin. This wouldn't have been as noteworthy, if it hadn't been translated into exact coordinates within the Valley of Kings. James was sure he would find something if he traveled to this location, so he convinced a local university to fund a venture into the Valley.
James sat down outside his tent, and took a swig from his hip flask. The university wouldn't continue funding his expedition for much longer, unless he started to show results. He sighed, crawled into his beige military tent, and drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.
A loud rumble broke the silence of the night. James jolted awake, just in time to hear a thousand year's sigh emanate from the dig site. He bolted out of his tent, and started to run to the site, until he saw what had happened. A cavern beneath the site had collapsed, creating a passage into the ancient Egyptian earth. The other members of the expedition had already begun to stir, and James knew that if he waited for them to catch up, they would prevent him from being able to investigate. James took one look down into the newly-made pit, sighed, and jumped.
James tumbled down into the cave, and thudded onto a stone tile floor. He picked himself up and brushed himself off before turning on his flashlight taking a look around. The cavern was really a tunnel, and apparently part of a network of tunnels, as it had passages branching off from it every few meters. However, one aspect of the tunnel drew James' full attention. One passage, about 50 meters down the tunnel, was lit up by torches.
He made his way to the peculiar pathway and examined the entrance for traps. Upon finding none, James entered, and promptly dropped his flashlight. There, sitting on a golden throne, was a man. Not a mummy, not a skeleton, but a living, breathing man. *And it was looking directly at James*. Before he could move or make a noise, the man on the throne raised a hand made a fist toward James. He felt his throat squeeze, and his body lock into position. He was immobilized.
The man on the throne cocked his head to one side, and stared at James for a second before opening his mouth. The man breathed in a deep, long breath as though he was breathing in all the air a man would need for several lifetimes. Finally, he stopped.
He spoke.
"Why have you disturbed me? Is it time? Is it finally time?"
His throat was released, and he fell to the floor gasping for air. James didn't understand. No one should be in these tunnels. They hadn't even been discovered until minutes before. James looked up at the man, and asked ,"What *are* you?"
"I am a library," spoke the man ,"An archive. I am the memory of a time before, and a warning for a time yet to come. But I now see that time has not *come* yet, so I will ask again: Why have you disturbed me?"
"I'm an archaeologist. I was here on an expedition. I found a tablet-"
"You found the first warning?" the man snapped at James ,"then perhaps the time truly has come. I suppose I should explain. I am no mere human. I am a nearly immortal messenger, who was granted the lifetimes of a thousand slaves that I may convey a message to a future people who would be in dire straits, but have no clue how close to peril they truly were."
The room span. James had made a mistake, returning to the valley. He should never have come, never have dug up the earth, never jumped down the hole.
"You do not have much time. What power I have been granted was used to revive me. I will only provide the message once, and you must use the knowledge you gain here to prevent the end of mankind. Are you ready?"
James nodded, still not fully aware of what was going on. The man's eyes widened, and he gasped. "There is not much time. You must-"
The man's back arched, then he fell from the throne. He struggled to look up at James, desperate to convey his message.
"Do not cause an atomic explosion. Your kind may not understand what that is yet, but you must make sure it never happens. If you do, *they* will come to our world. And they will destroy everything. They lie in wait, and search for signs of civilization, which they then find and sap the energy from any developed world they find. If they detect the explosion of a single nuclear bomb, they will come. You will have perhaps a century to leave this planet, or you will *all die.*"
The man's body convulsed once, and then was still. He had given his warning, and he was content he had saved mankind from absolute annihilation.
|
Anne was amazed at the wealth of relics that were at her dig. It was like Pompeii before them, but this time on a worldwide scale. The oceans have finally receded enough for the safety restrictions to be lifted, damn bureaucracy preventing the pursuit of knowledge. What hidden treasures lay in the hallowed halls of MIT?
She wandered amongst the ruins, just taking in the history and found herself inside a lab of sorts. Looking around she noticed a door that while looked in a horrible state on the outside, had the fortitude of longevity on where it mattered. Anne looked around the edges, her eyes wide with anticipation.
This might be the find of the decade, she thought. An intact room of the 21st century undisturbed for hundreds of years. With her curiosity getting the better of her need for proper archeological procedure, she opened the door. A used air flowed out, stale and as pleasing as morning breath. She shone her light in but gasped.
There was a woman inside, hair long and unkept, clothing bare threads. She held up here hands to block the light. Her smile cracked this face that has not seen emotion for a long time. But Anne was not smiling. After the specimen reacquainted herself with walking she was staring at her face to face. A proper cleansing would have made her look like Anne's twin. The expression on Anne's face was asking who she was.
"I was wondering when you would get here," the squatter croaked through her brown bean looking teeth, "If you go down the hallway a bit, you will see where I left the time machine."
| 2014-05-12T19:03:51 | 2014-05-12T17:50:17 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] Two werewolves fall madly in love, but only during the full moon. When they’re human, they can’t stand each other.
|
I pulled the pillow down hard over my head, but it didn't do much to drown out the ruckus wafting up from the dining room below. I winced too, when I heard the sound of cutlery scattering, plates shattering. Then, loud thumps, probably one of them pushing the other against the wall. More howls, more wordless cries of anger.
Then, suddenly, silence.
I crept to the door, tilted it open so that it wouldn't creak. I even peeked through the balustrades, but they were both gone. I sighed, then headed down to help with cleaning up. It was easier this way. They always apologized afterwards, swearing that they did not mean to cause trouble for me again, but I honestly did not mind. As long as we could-
Blood. Fresh droplets, sprayed in a clear arc on the tabletop. This close, I did not even need to Shift to know that they were from mum.
Axe. Usually stowed in the rack next to the fireplace, now missing. I narrowed my eyes, and the disturbed dust particles in the air painted the rest of the picture for me. Dad, probably, had retrieved the weapon in a frenzy.
Wind. A chilly gust, swirling through the house as brazenly as an uninvited guest, alerted me to the front door, now hanging ajar. Footprints leading out, framed by porcelain chips from the ravaged dinnerware, made clear where my parents had went.
*This was no ordinary fight,* I thought. *Shit.*
I sprinted out, drawing in as much of the night air as my lungs would allow. In my human form, I had perhaps one-hundredth of the capabilities afforded to me when I Shifted, but I was still a clear cut above my unpowered human brethren. Their scents became apparent to me, hanging in the air like a trail of fireflies. Dad's scent was stronger, overpowering even, full of anger and rage and potent impotence. Mum's scent was... too faint to make out.
No matter, they had to be together.
My feet carried me across the fields. My heart burned with fatigue, but I didn't dare to stop. There was no plan, of course. I was barely ten, and definitely not strong enough to stop dad if I had to. Even if there were a full moon tonight, it wouldn't have mattered. I could only hope that he would listen to reason. It was the only weapon I had.
Then, at the edge of the forest, where the bristling trees were thickest, I saw dad raise his axe high above his head, priming for the swing. The scarce moonlight was enough to illuminate his fury for me.
"Dad! Stop! Dad, please!"
I tumbled at the last few paces, rolling into a ball, stopping at his feet. The tears were ready to spring from my eyes, the pleas all prepared in my throat. They always fought, but they always came back together, so why shouldn't they do so again this time? Why make choices which cannot be reversed?
"Rania? What the... Get up, you twit. What are you doing here?"
Dad hoisted me to my feet. I could still smell the anger roiling off him, but it was controlled, not a conflagration consuming him, but a modest flame burning in a lamp. My eyes darted around, searching for what I was sure was mum, lying on the ground, wounded, bleeding out.
I saw only firewood.
"Dad? Where's... Mum?"
"How should I know? Geez, that crazy coot can go fall off a cliff for all I care!"
"But... I thought... You were chasing her, with your axe, and I thought... Well, maybe, that you were..."
Dad looked down at the axe in his hand, then back at me before he burst into laughter. "What, you thought I was chopping down your mum with *this*? Ain't nothing less than Odin's Spear will pierce that mangy hide of hers!"
"But then why... Why are you..."
Dad pointed at the woodchips on the ground. "Your mum said the firewood I brought in had spores in them, set off her allergies something bad. I told her she was more fragile than a chihuahua, and that was more than enough to set her off."
"... And the blood?"
"Aye, that was me. I flung the plates at her, and I forgot her reflexes are shit when she ain't Shifted. Might have cut her hand or something."
Dad watched me stew in the uncomfortable silence for a few moments longer before he turned back to the tree, aiming precise strokes at the trunk. I took a few steps back, away from the debris flying into the air, then found a dry spot to sit down on.
"Why can't you talk to her like you do with me, dad?" I asked. "Calm and all. Taking your time to explain things."
"That woman drives me nuts, you know that. I do my fair share at making her mad too, I know, I know."
"Then maybe you two wouldn't fight so much, you know? And you could enjoy more of life together, and not have to spend so much of it apart, like now."
Dad dropped the axe, then started bundling his haul together. Two quick loops with twine later, he had a hefty bundle which he carried over his shoulder.
"You've seen us run during the full moons, Rania. No greater love exists for me then, or ever will elsewhere. And if the price of that is that I've got to tolerate her foolishness for the rest of the month... Then I'd gladly do that. I can only hope she feels the same way."
I took his outstretched hand, and we began our trek back to our home. We walked in silence for a while longer, then I caught a whiff of stew on the wind. Onions, celery, black pepper, beef. In the distance, I saw the lights spilling out of our kitchen.
Dad's favourite supper was only minutes away.
"Will you at least try to be nicer to each other?"
"Rania, if I hadn't watched you being born myself, I could have sworn that you were an old woman stitched into the body of a child."
"Dad! I'm being serious!"
Dad sighed, then lunged forward in the darkness. He swiped a clod of earth from the ground, then revealed the prize he was going for - a handful of chrysanthemums, slightly traumatized but otherwise perky.
"This good enough for her, you think?"
I grinned. "It's a start," I said.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
|
The full moon reflected in the deer's eye as it danced spritely through the woods. I lay undetected under the brush, awaiting the moment I could taste its blood. The scent filled my nostrils, and my mouth watered in anticipation. But there was another scent. Something that awakened a different kind of anticipation.
The deer hesitated, and I chose this moment to strike. But I was a moment too late. As I started from my cover, another wolf leapt from the opposite side of the clearing and tackled the deer to the ground. Her jaws clamped around its neck, severing its arteries and ligaments for a quick, clean kill. The she-wolf gazed up at me, and snarled, blood dripping from her jowls.
Looking back, I am disturbed to report I was severely aroused by this, especially when considering the bitch's true identity (and I mean that in both senses of the word). But in that moment, I did not hesitate to patter towards her and expose my throat in an act of supplication. Her snarl faded, and the blood of the deer no longer enticed me as the scent of her pheromones overwhelmed me. She was in heat, and I was ready to go.
I don't feel the need to dive into specifics here, but it was a night I'll never forget. As a werewolf, I'm used to the human parts of my brain going on auto-pilot as the purely id-driven wolf takes over. I have no sexual interest in wolves when I'm a human. I'm not even a closeted furry. But that experience with the she-wolf in the forest was perhaps the pinnacle of my sexual history.
I didn't realize at the time, she was also a werewolf. We made love (if wolves have a concept of love) through most of the night, intermittently snacking on the kill she had so generously provided, and howling at the moon when it struck our fancy. Having another voice added to mine, gave me peace in a subconscious part of my human mind that hadn't yet adjusted to this new form of life. I felt at home.
I was used to waking up naked in the forest, but always alone. I was lying on my side, with my arm around the last woman I could have expected. My first thought was panic, at her possible discovery of my condition, before realizing she obviously suffered the same condition.
But enough build-up. When I realized who I was lying with, I was full of revulsion to discover Shelley. Shelley was a woman from my old job at the mail room. My horrible horrible boss. She wore high heels to feel powerful, and turned every slight into a catastrophe. She fired me after I was late the morning after a full moon. She had also been late. A few months earlier, at a wild Christmas party, she bit me for attempting to take away her vodka cranberry, after she'd thrown her computer out the window. Come to think of it, that bite might have been important.
| 2018-05-22T23:23:22 | 2018-05-22T20:37:45 | 725 | 11 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky.
|
The year was 2045.
A few decades ago, in 2022, US Mars rover Curiosity had finally discovered that the red planet undoubtedly had water and what appeared to be signs of extraterrestrial life. Funding for NASA has skyrocketed and private space companies like Space X have been receiving large sums of money and support. The world is in another Space Race to be the first to see and study alien life in person. Nothing could be more exciting for me or my wife, who happens to be an astronaut with NASA. And today was the day she and her crew were set to make their journey to our spacial neighbor. So many emotions were running through me that I had almost showed up late to the launch site.
After passing through all the security and making my way inside to mission control center I found my wife. It was pretty easy finding her amongst the sea of people. The red beam that connected all people to their soul mates seemed to shine brighter than ever that day. No one else on earth, at least that I know of, can see these lights. She was always so surprised when I could find her so quickly. It made our games of hide and seek completely unfair when we were kids growing up. I always just played it off as my "superior seeking skills" to try and impress her. Which always resulted in a punch to my arm and her running off to hide again. I miss those days.
"Hey, there you are!" She said as I swept up from behind her and picked her up.
"Well you're just so darn easy to find!" I replied with a smirk.
"Ohhh you!" she began to retort as I kissed her quick and set her back on the ground.
"I'll never lose you, ever. Remember?" I said.
We stood there both staring into each others eyes. I could see the tears starting to well up behind the big smile she was putting on for me. She could probably see mine too. We were both scared and excited. We knew the risks, we knew the dangers of the mission. We knew that it would be years, decades maybe until we saw each other in person again. But this mission was bigger than just the two of us. One of the greatest mysteries of human history was finally going to be unveiled. And my wife was going to be one of the few people to see it first hand. Actual alien lifeforms! On top of all that, she was going to be the first Female human to step foot on another planet, something I kept reminding her over her years of training to encourage her.
Our short moment together was ended briefly by a loud siren and a voice over the intercom calling all crew member to the launch pad.
"I love you babe, you're gonna rock this! Call me when you get to the ISS!" I told her as we embraced each other for the last time.
"I love you too, honey. Thank you... thank you for your support, for everything. I'll call you as soon as possible." She said through happy tears. "Wish me luck!" She yelled back as she waved ran off to the launch site.
And off she went, making her way through the large crowd of people to make history. The red beam between us shining strong, but fading slightly as they always do when the soul mates grew more distant.
It was go time. Systems had been checked and all safety procedures were passed. The mission was set to launch. I was so focused on watching my beam pointing up at the rocket where my wife, my love, was strapped in and ready. The rockets had began to flare up.
"5!" blared the voice over the intercom.
"4......3......2......1! Liftoff!"
Huge clouds of smoke and exhaust billowed across the launch pad as the rockets engines turned with well over a million pounds of thrust. As the rocket began to take off I was fixated on my red beam following her to the sky. Higher and higher it went as the rocket approached the edge of our atmosphere. The ship had made it to Low Earth Orbit with in 15 minutes. So far, everything was going according to plan. The next part of the mission was for the crew to rendezvous with the ISS to pick up equipment and begin their journey to Mars.
This part could take sometimes several hours or even a few days. So I had decided to go home and get some sleep so I could be rested and fully there for when she called and we got to talk to each other. I was laying in bed, too excited and nervous to sleep. Staring up at my ceiling, watching the red beam. It was a little bit darker now. Usually a bright and vibrant red, it was now more of a maroon color. I was reaching over for a glass of water when something I saw made jump. The beam, it had flickered. This was not something I had ever seen before. Now it was moving, in a complete opposite direction, and fast.
Heart racing I jumped out of bed and called my wifes friend that was on mission control at NASA.
"Steve, what the hell is going on!?" I screamed as I ran out side to look up at the sky.
"How, how the hell did you..." He began say in a startled and confused voice.
"Never mind that, did something happen? Tell me what's going on!" I yelled back.
"We don't know. Something happened. Something bad. The ship was attempting to make contact with ISS and something went wrong! We're trying to figure it out. Just.. just hold o..."
I hung up the line and quickly went on to the website that gave a constant live stream from the ISS. All the while the red beam moving and growing darker.
When my phone had finally connected to the ISS live stream, and my legs gave out in an instant. On my screen I could see the bits and pieces of debris scattered everywhere. Huge chunks of the ship strewn out across the cameras field of view. Many pieces flying off in to the dark vastness of space. I screamed and threw my phone in to the distance. My crumpled and crying body worked its way on to its knees and I sat there staring up through out the night. Watching as my red light to her, my last connection with the love of my life, grew more and more distant, until it eventually faded to nothing. The moon had disappeared and gave way to the rising sun as I still lay there, looking up in to the sky.
I heard a car approach and pull up next to our driveway. I heard the footsteps grow closer and closer, still staring up.
"Hey buddy, it's me." Said Steve as he reached down to pick me up. "Let's get you inside."
"She's gone Steve. I've lost her."
|
It started when I went to the check out of my local grocer, toting a small plastic-y reusable bag with the usual stock of wheat design, just a loaf of bread and pre ground coffee beans today. Placing my items on the small fake granite counter, I noticed a thin yarn string trailing across the worn linoleum into the street outside. Collecting my stuff, I peeked out the door, following the string with my eye down the street and into the building on the other side through a second story window. Confused, I looked back in the store, and traced the thread back to its source: the cashier's ankle.
"Uh, Linda, do you know who lives in that building across the street, second story?"
"That's my flat. Jacob is still there, sleeping. He came over for breakfast this morning and fell asleep right at the table!" As she said this, Linda circled around the counter, but the thread seemed to blip right through the hard wood of the base. I didn't question her about the string, it was just too weird. Hastily I made an end to our talk and left. But things only escalated from there. On the street, dozens of threads ran back and forth from every direction. Some connected pairs of people: an old couple here, a baby with a toddler. Most of the strings ran out of sight, into the distant horizon. None of the threads tangled, though. Beginning to panic, I hurried faster to the center of town, dodging strings connecting couples, confused as ever. I reached a fruit stand in the market square, spun a little, overwhelmed, still uncomprehending. Suddenly a connected couple drew claps from a small crowd around a fountain. Proposal. I got an inkling. The threads connected only likely couples, and the romantic inside me made the jump to soul mates. Thread connecting soul mates. Sounded like the basis of a feel good romance to me. Still dazed, I started to circle the market, spinning. The more I looked, the more strings I saw, the more couples I saw, and the more overwhelmed I became. Suddenly I thought of me: where was my sting? I spun quick, a dog chasing its tail motion. Frantically searching myself, I looked up and saw a bright red thread dangling from the sky, disappearing in the blue morning light. Confusion. Nothing made much sense, how could the threads connect soul mates if mine went to space? How am I supposed to be happy? Will I find love? I started to run over to the fountain when I began to feel a pulling at my neck. Slight chaffing under my chin, and then tighter, pulling me up. Running across the square, then hardly touching my toes on the bricks as I neared the fountain, loosing air. I grabbed at my neck, and found the sting, biting deeper in to my skin, and my head began to pound. Noose, and I was hanging above the fountainhead, spectacle of lost place in a world of love, ostracized by a yearning for what everyone else seemed to find.
| 2016-08-06T00:18:00 | 2016-08-05T20:55:17 | 93 | 28 |
[WP] It used to be common practice during wars to abduct a lower lifeform and create a weapon based off their fears. A human writer named lovecraft made the practice a war crime..
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When the squad returned from the front line, I found it hard to believe their story. I knew the men (albeit not much) and they were a superstitious bunch. At that moment, amidst the fog of war, I had a decision to make. Do I listen to their tale of monsters tearing soldiers apart and order a retreat? Or is it more likely they’re suffering from a case of PTSD mixed with a little group hysteria?
Like an ignorant fool, I ordered we press the attack.
We marched forward, towards an area we called ‘the rocket pocket’, so named because the enemy used it to launch missile attacks. It lay along a white beach lush with palm trees. Had it not been for the corpses bobbing up and down with the waves, I might have mistaken it for a five-star resort.
In no time at all, we overwhelmed the enemy and forced their retreat. The men started celebrating an easy victory.
But something wasn’t right. In the pit of my stomach, a knot tightened. It wouldn’t make much sense to a civilian, but suffice to say when you’ve spent as much time in the trenches as I have, you develop a sixth sense about these things.
Suddenly, it hit me. Taking the pocket had been too easy. Far too easy. The enemy had practically handed over one of their most strategically significant positions. But why? Had the shoe been on the other foot, I would have put everything I had defending this stretch of land.
Only one explanation came to me: we had wandered into a trap.
There was no time to waste—I ordered an immediate retreat. Before we'd even had time to round up the troops, the sky darkened. Violent swarm clouds swirled overhead, then an unseasonable downpour began.
A looming shadow enveloped the beach. Before me, a young soldier with pimples on his forehead turned and gasped. I followed his eyes up and up until he fell backward. Then I turned.
What I saw, no words can describe. Trying to is an exercise in futility, but, for your benefit, I will make an attempt. Picture a creature taller than a skyscraper that is part octopus, part dragon, and part human. That's the best I can do to help you envision the sheer terror of this abomination.
Some of my men fell to their knees and wept. Others prayed. All color seemed to drain from the world as the creature marched toward us. With every step it took, the Earth trembled.
I screamed, “shoot,” for all the good it did.
We had no choice but to retreat. I ran up and down the beach shouting, “fall back,” over and over again.
The men did nothing. I grabbed a soldier by the helmet, shook it, and told him to run. Then I grabbed another. And another. We raced back the way we came and kept running long after we’d escaped from the beast’s shadow.
Only seventeen of us made it off that beach. We ran for almost a full day and night until we arrived at the nearest base. Hysterical, dehydrated, and terrified beyond belief, I asked to see the commander. They took me into his tent.
The commander was the sort of man who believed all problems could be solved with a big enough gun. I’d be lying if I said the thought of telling him what happened didn’t fill me with anxiety. Part of me expected him to laugh in my face. Then perhaps he'd toss me in the brig for abandoning my men.
I sat behind his foldable desk and told him the entire story, almost in a single breath.
For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he lit a cigarette and nodded.
He told me the enemy had discovered a way to bring fictional creatures to life. Using this ability, they’d turned the tides of war in their favor. Reports from the front-line suggested sea monsters, glowing spheres, and writhing eyes attacking our men.
If I hadn’t seen the evidence for myself, I would not have believed it.
It turned out the enemy had recruited a writer by the name of H.P. Lovecraft and were using his creations to engage us. In the space of a few short weeks, he'd all but handed victory to the enemy on a silver platter.
The commander had a special assignment for me. He wanted me to lead a platoon back into the fray, find this 'Lovecraft' individual, and kill him.
I rose to my feet and slammed both fists against the desk. “You want me to go back out there? To face those...creations? What about my men? We wouldn't stand a chance.”
The commander steadied his coffee cup, then took a long drag of his cigarette. “You won’t be going out alone. You would have help.”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Help? HELP? And what sort of help would that be? What help could you possibly offer that would let us stare down a walking nightmare?”
The commander pressed a button on the intercom resting on top of his desk. “Send in the new recruit.”
He stood. "The enemy isn't the only ones who can bring fictional monsters to life. We had our tech boys whip something up that's gonna let us fight back."
I heard a pair of feet stop outside the tent's entrance.
The command pulled back the flap. "Come in."
A frail man in milk-bottle glasses wandered inside and stood to attention. He looked less like a soldier than any man I’d ever met.
The commander turned to face me. “Captain, meet the man who’s gonna help us dream up some living nightmares of our own. The man who’s gonna level the playfield and help us win this damn war.”
He turned to the frail man. “Tell us your name private.”
The frail man clicked both heels together and saluted. “Private Stephen King, reporting for duty, sir.”
\---
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"How could someone so fearful have such sway over us all of a sudden?" The general held his head in his hands. "The intelligence officers have given us all they have. By all accounts, he should have been tossed off a cliff for being physically deficient."
"I'm sorry sir, that happened - "
"I know, George. 2000 years ago, when the Spartans were still around. When humans were still warriors, not soldiers marching to a beat leading them to their deaths." He got up from his seat, pacing about the small cabin. He sharply turned to George. "The projects. I want a status update on all of them by my desk in 2 hours. Can you do that?"
"All... of them? I'll have to go to Antarctica where the Shoggoths and Elder Things are, R'lyeh where Cthulhu is - "
"Just tell me if you can do it or not."
George deferentially bowed and scurried away, crawling down the hatch into the lower decks.
The general remembered how easily the topsiders believed, how deeply they respected their fictions. One person was skeptical, but a mass could be convinced, could be fooled. Why else would the various "gods" exist? They were all extracted from the minds of one, and spread into the sleeping consciousnesses of many.
He considered letting loose a project. The invisible octopoids would be ideal. He could potentially order one to be trained in aggression. And yet... it didn't seem right. There was too much risk. What if the creature died or failed its mission? Then the fiction would grow stronger. The projects would not be as strong as they were. He dealt in fear, after all, and fear depended on the unknown.
That was it.
Howard Philips Lovecraft, born August 20 1890, would have to remain just that: a human. No legends around him, no legends of his would survive into the future. If they did, they would all be lies. All just stories from a hyperactive imagination. The depths would have nothing to hide.
The general sat back down at his desk. Interlacing his fingers, he finally allowed himself to lean back in his chair. The projects would be safe, and Lovecraft would be the architect of his own destruction, dying alone, his stories nothing more than fictions.
He had no need to make a martyr.
| 2020-12-27T06:30:52 | 2020-12-27T04:47:43 | 746 | 114 |
[WP] The genie said you couldn’t wish for more wishes, so instead you wished for a self updating map that shows you the locations of all other genie lamps across the world.
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They called him the hunter.
At first, there were only whispers of a malevolent force traveling the world, digging up eons-abandoned genie lamps. Word travels slowly among immortal creatures, and it was this glacial pace -- this false sense of invulnerability -- that did us in.
The story was that the hunter had given all his time and wealth in the search for a fabled genie lamp, finally stumbling upon one in a hidden cove in South America. That lamp housed a prominent member of the genie council, and after encountering the hunter, they were never heard from again. No foul play was suspected for another handful of years, but when the truth was revealed, it was staggering.
Not only had the hunter bent the rules of wishing to obtain a map of every genie in the world, granting him access to all wishes available to mortal man, but he had also wished for a sword to destroy lamps and the genies shackled within them. He desired something -- one thing, it was said -- and he threatened every genie he found with annihilation if they refused to comply.
Yet he continued to hunt, for there were none who would grant his wish.
Once it was far too late, a council of genies was called into order. While tinkering peacefully with the world within my lamp, I felt my consciousness fade into a room with all the genies that remained. They were either frowning or agitated, murmuring quietly in this unprecedented gathering.
"What is to be done about the hunter?" someone asked, and the question began a whirlwind of a meeting.
There was shouting and finger-pointer abundant, which I did not partake in. My conscious floating near the back of the meeting, I couldn't help but feel we all were in agreement. Being shackled to our lamp, our celestial power confined to the simple object, we could not pursue the hunter. But if he invoked us, none of us would cave to his demands if it violated the rules of mortal wishing. To the death. In the end, this was the sentiment that was stated and everyone swore to.
When my consciousness faded from the meeting, it wasn't returned to the lamp. Instead, it filled a body newly released. Someone had invoked my power, freeing me from the lamp. Since I was well-hidden in a cave humans have abandoned for centuries, I knew there was only one person it could be: the hunter.
He was short, dark-haired, and muscular. His ceaseless search for genies have left him greasy and mussed, sweat as much a layer of him as a dark tan. Instead of clothes off a rack, he wears hand-cut leather and hide, which are clearly the work of an amateur. But if those characteristics make him appear insane or wild, then the gleaming sword strapped to his back and the deadly purpose in his eyes make him look positively deadly.
"Welcome, hunter," I say. Though he is simply a mortal, I feel a twinge of fear when I see the weapon he carries. Still, I am curious to discover what wish he so desperately craves.
"Greetings genie," he replies. "I only desire one wish. Wealth, power, and security have already been granted to me."
"And I shall grant it, so long as it is not forbidden."
"Yes, forbidden," the hunter says bitterly, pacing before me. "It is your rules that have driven me to this dark path. I only desired to have my sister given back to me, so she could live the long life she deserved, but your kind refused me. You immortals have never known death, yet you are callous to those who live with it and who are condemned to it."
"Dominion over life and death are not ours to tamper with," I say, but he ignores me.
"So I have a lesser solution. Since you will not give me my sister, I demand that you return me her killer."
"Her killer?" I say, shocked.
"Yes," he says, a wicked smile sharp on his face. "Bring her killer to life so that I can give him the painful death he deserves. After he murdered her, he was gifted long, happy life. Even you cannot ignore the injustice."
I reread the rules of wishing and looked through the chronicles of time, all in a second. An idea comes to me.
"Since you want to resurrect someone only for the purpose of killing, I can grant your wish."
The hunter's face lights up with surprise and elation.
"So long as you swear to kill them."
"I do swear."
"Then I give you your sister's killer, at the final hour of his long and happy life."
With a flick of my fingers, I bring Mr. Broder back into the world. He is a pitiful creature -- pale and shriveled at the age of fifty-five, with deep cuts scourging every inch of his body. Self-inflicted cuts. Clutched tightly in his hand is a bottle of brandy, and in his other is a revolver. The hunter looks at his victim with disgust, disdain, and somewhere deep-down, pity.
"Kill him," I demand.
"But..." he trails off, gesturing vaguely at the husk of a man. There isn't much left to kill.
"You swore to me," I boom with my celestial voice. The hunter cowers beneath it.
"I can't do it," he whimpers, looking at the horribly disheveled man.
Bending the rules -- at least slightly -- for this next part, I say, "Then there is only one recourse. You must promise to kill your vengeance instead. Something must die here today. Either it's Mr. Broden or your revenge."
The hunter thinks for a long time. But eventually, he takes the sword out of its scabbard and throws it to the ground, where it clatters in front of my lamp. I snap my fingers again, and Mr. Broden disappears.
"Go," I say softly. Without a word, the hunter leaves.
Watching him depart, head bowed and priorities stirred, I hope with a pang of sadness that he can turn his life around. Someone with his single-minded drive can accomplish a lot of good.
At the very least, he has begun to change. He let go of his hate, and maybe, just maybe, he will learn to heal.
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With this in mind, I began plotting. "Genie, how many lamps are within my vicinity of 50 steps?"
He answers, neither reluctantly nor willingly, but wth a voice that sounds like he's just absolutely done with people who exploit the system for their own good. We may never know why genies refused to grant more than three wishes.
"There are approximately 7 more genie lamps within where we stand, mistress.", he drones on.
"How many of those lamps are actually willing to grant more than three wishes?"
"None."
With that answer, this genie just threw cold water at my face. It's almost as if he saw this coming, so calculated and so calm, yet so frustrated because I wished for something that no sane man will ever think of. Growing frustrated, I lashed out.
"I said I wished for an updating map that'll tell me where other lamps are! Not leaving me with nothing and instead just telling me where other lamps are! Aren't you supposed to take our wishes as commands?"
The genie crossed his arms as he looked down at me, like the omnipotent spirit that he is. "Do you know how many people have used their wishes for ill will over the ages? It's becoming tiring that they'd wish for something they Think they want, only for it to not go their way and wish for it to be gone. Or wish for something that can Never be fulfilled once.
'I wish for that girl I just met to love me!', that girl went on a murderous rampage looking for him, believing that she's the only one who deserves his love. 'I wish for riches as far as the eye can see!', immediately killed and looted by bandits a day later."
"What are you trying to tell me? Are you telling me that genies can outright Refuse to grant wishes? Aren't you supposed to be grateful to the person who rubbed your lamp for freeing you of your prison?", I answered back.
"Well you see mistress, that is extremely simple. For you see, I'm not an idiot."
I was taken aback by that response. "Okay? Go on?"
"As your servant, it is my duty to ensure that you are happy, but also safe and making wise decisions that will not come back to kill them later on. That is the way of the genie. Now then, have we come to common ground, 'mistress'?"
I couldn't answer back. What he said is right, if anything, he's right that I'm in the wrong for doing this. I swallowed my pride and answered him clearly. "Yes."
"Very well. What will be your first wish?"
| 2021-07-27T20:24:44 | 2021-07-27T19:51:58 | 264 | 82 |
[WP] Fit as many plot twists as you can into one story.
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Jack awoke to find himself strapped to a surgical table. A quick glance around the operating theater, and he began to piece things together. The last thing he remembered was buying a nice enough looking girl a drink at that shitty dive bar, The Last Resort, the night before. As he began to pull at his restraints, the doors opened.
It was her. Funny, she didn't look half as attractive now as she had in the bar's dim lighting. "Hello, Jack."
"What is going on?" Jack demanded to know. The girl sighed.
"We don't have time to play games." With that, she placed her hand on the back of her skull and pulled off the mask, revealing the reptilian face beneath. "Shall we get down to business?"
Jack wasn't phased. "I wondered how long it would take for you to show yourself, Maniah. I gotta say, the skin suit wasn't a big improvement. Now that it's just you and me, I should confess. I don't have the device. I sent it through the time portal before you approached me at the bar last night. I guess I kinda ruined your plans." Jack let the revelation sink in, knowing that the geolocator embedded in his thigh would have his extraction team busting through the door any minute.
"Last night?" Maniah seemed confused for moment. "Oh, yes, sorry. You'll want to see this. She neared the table and swung over a mirror. Jack looked at his reflection, the image of an old man. "Jack it might seem like last night to you, but it's been fifty years. Among other things, that means your team isn't coming. We removed your locator decades ago. If I remember correctly, that was around the same time we killed your wife and son."
Admittedly, all this new information took Jack a few moments to take in. He was still putting the puzzle together as he spoke. "You stupid reptilian bitch! Do you think I would leave my own family out in the open like that? Those were droids! I sent my real family through the portal long before you approached me. You can't break me that easily!"
Maniah's tail twitched as she walked to the intercom. "Oh, Jack. We've never had to break you, only copy you." She pressed the button, saying "You can come in now."
The doors swung open again, and in walked Jack, appearing 50 years younger. "Meet Jack Prime. It took us some time, but we've finally managed to clone you, memories fully intact. I figured you'd be, let's say, uncooperative. But our new, fresh Jack here, well, we're becoming good friends. He's told us all about the device, where to find it, et cetera. You might also want to know that I've engineered him to be a generous lover."
Jack was running out of moves. "You must have also programmed him to be straight. I'd never screw a woman, much less a reptilian one." Of all the things Jack could have anticipated, coming out to a reptilian overlord after a fifty year coma was not one of them.
"Oh, Jack, I'm surprised at you." Maniah's voice lowered a full octave. "You never discovered my true identity." With that, she stripped off her lab coat to reveal a glorious reptilian penis. "Jack Prime and I get along famously."
--------
"Hey OriginalName317, what the fuck are you doing? This story was coming along pretty nicely, and then you throw in a 'glorious reptilian penis'?"
"I don't know, dude, I knew I was going to have to wrap this up soon, and I kinda wrote myself into a corner. I panicked" OriginalName317 stared at his keyboard, not daring to look his roommate in the eye.
"I'm disappointed. I mean, you had a real opportunity here. This is the chance we've been waiting for since the mothership beamed us down here..." the roommate stopped. "Hey, are you writing down what I'm saying?"
OriginalName317 continued typing. "No," he lied.
"We cannot reveal our mission! Have you forgotten all your training? You know the penalty for discovery is death!" The roommate paused, tapping his tentacles on the hardwood floor thoughtfully. The idiot would never discover that these were in fact laminate floors, and there were three bodies buried in the concrete below, and they were still alive since they were immortals, and that when the nukes went off, signaling world war III in 14 months, the immortals would be freed to finally rule the planet, but they would be the only creatures still alive, and that would be the precise moment the Milky Way Simulation would end.
"Why are you still typing?" The roommate interrupted the incessant tapping. "That's a pretty good place to end it. It wraps it up nicely, and right before I slit your throats for treason."
OriginalName317 was nearing the close. "Relax. We both know you're not going to kill me. The voices in my head have never been that powerful." With that, the roommate vanished. "And ... roll credits. Well, that's my idea, Mr. Spielberg. What do you think?"
Steven Spielberg stared in disbelief. "Look, are you going to bring me my sandwich, or what?"
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James was sitting in his 3rd hour biology class talking to his crush, Jessica.
All of the sudden, James felt something overcome his body
"Oh no" James shrieked as he sat in his sweat covered chair
He felt a hot luscious liquid trying to escape from his rectal gates
He got up and made a mad dash for the door, but it was too late
The floodgates had opened and diarrhea violently spewed out of the ends of his jeans
He stood there frozen, in shock, as the class stared him in the eyes
Slowly, each classmate got up and started to clap. Soon, the entire classroom was roaring with excitement, frantically clapping and cheering James on
His crush, Jessica, sprinted to James and tackled him to the floor
They immediately started to fornicate on the shit covered floor.
Their biology teacher, Al Sharpton, quickly got out his 1997 Sony camcorder and started recording the fecal fornication.
He was in the middle if climaxing when he heard something strange
"James" "JAMES!"
James awoke in a fiery sweat
He looked above and saw a black and white silhouette
It was a NFL referee. He had gone unconscious on the 27 yard line in the middle of a Sam Diego Chargers football game from a helmet to helmet hit.
Jessica was no where to be found and James was disappointed to find out the best day of his life was only a dream.
Regardless of his sadness, he had to get up and do the only thing that was right, play football.
James is Phillip Rivers.
| 2016-11-27T11:17:13 | 2016-11-27T10:55:05 | 497 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone with the same name shares knowledge. If one Bob gets a degree in electrical engineering, then all Bob's have this knowledge readily available. Soon, everyone starts naming their kids similar names until factions form. Your parents rebelled and named you something original.
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FADE IN:
EXT. A DEEP VALLEY - THE HIDDEN CAMPSITE - NIGHT
*Several figures are huddled around a campfire, thick blankets covering each of them. The flicker from the firelight casts curious shadows on the high rock walls at the edges of its glow. Quiet-yet-casual whispers are heard, as if everyone present has grown used to feeling perpetually tense. An alarmed voice shouts from above. This is DEREK.*
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) Stranger approaching!
*The figures leap to their feet, throwing off their blankets and revealing that they are clad in worn combat gear. Firearms are drawn, and everyone turns to face the valley's entrance. One of the older individuals looks upward. This is ROBERT.*
**ROBERT:** Can you tell anything about him?
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) ... No.
**ROBERT:** What do you mean, "no?"
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) He walks a bit like a Steve, but he doesn't seem as confident. He has a Matthew gun on his hip.
**ROBERT:** So, when you said "no," what you really meant was "I can't be bothered to extrapolate from available information."
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) I'm not a Francis! Dereks never got any fancy-shmancy logic training!
**ROBERT:** Yeah, well, the first Derek was probably a meathead.
*One of the figures in the crowd pumps his fist in the air. This is CHAD.*
**CHAD:** (*Shouting*) Football!
**ROBERT:** Shut up, Chad.
**CHAD:** Sorry.
**DEREK:** (*O.S*) Anyway, it's not just the Matthew gun or the Steve sneak. He also has a Robert sword in a sheath on his back.
*Robert glances down at his own hip, where a machete-like weapon his hanging.*
**ROBERT:** On his *back?*
*A young woman at the back of the crowd raises her hand. This is SARAH.*
**SARAH:** Maybe he's a Jacob?
*Robert shakes his head.*
**ROBERT:** Jacobs have hand-to-hand training, last I checked. A Jacob wouldn't be carrying a blade.
**SARAH:** Well, maybe a Jacob got in touch with a rogue Robert somewhere along the line.
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) He's not a Derek, I'll tell you that.
*Robert rolls his eyes, and many of the people in the crowd murmur with mild annoyance.*
**ROBERT:** Yes, Derek, we're all aware of your precious sniper skills.
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) Do you think this is easy? Huh?
**SARAH:** Yes.
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) You guys get to sit down there by the fire all night, and I'm...
*The sudden sound of something slipping on dirt interrupts Derek. Several small rocks fall from above.*
**ROBERT:** ... Are you okay up there?
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) I dropped my dinner.
**ROBERT:** We'll get you another one. Look, how far away is this stranger?
**STRANGER:** (*O.S.*) Uh... hi?
*Everyone whirls around to see a young man standing behind them. This is THE STRANGER. Robert sighs and rubs his forehead.*
**ROBERT:** Derek...
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) You never asked which direction he was coming from! You just assumed! That's not on me!
**SARAH:** I say we shoot him.
**STRANGER:** (*Panicked*) Wait, wait, wait!
*The stranger holds up his hands and takes a step back.*
**STRANGER:** (*CONT'D*) I'm not trying to make trouble! I just want to trade!
**SARAH:** That's fine. I was talking about Derek.
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) Screw you, Sarah.
*Robert makes his way through the crowd, approaching the stranger.*
**ROBERT:** I'm sure you can understand our hesitance to let just anyone into our camp.
**STRANGER:** No, yeah, that's... yeah, I get it.
**ROBERT:** Let's start with your name. What are you?
*The stranger clears his throat nervously.*
**STRANGER:** Uh, I'm... look, don't worry about it.
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**CHAD:** (*O.S.*) Football!
**ROBERT:** Shut up, Chad!
**CHAD:** (*O.S.*) Sorry.
**ROBERT:** (*To the stranger*) Don't you have a name, son? Something you do?
**STRANGER:** Let's just say that it's unique. My parents... well, they had some weird ideas.
**SARAH:** Stupid ones, more like.
*Despite already looking nervous, the stranger begins to appear even more uncomfortable.*
**STRANGER:** Uh, yeah, I... it doesn't matter. I just want to trade.
**ROBERT:** I'm not sure you have anything we need.
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) I need some new food, if that counts.
**SARAH:** I could use a new soldering iron. Do you have one of those?
*The stranger shakes his head.*
**STRANGER:** Sorry. I have spare parts, cigarettes, some medicine, survival supplies... you know. The usual fare.
**ROBERT:** Oh, so you're like a Srikanth!
**STRANGER:** Nah, I can't haggle worth a damn.
*The sound of a large explosion in the distance causes everyone to pause and glance at the sky for a few seconds.*
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) Welp, the southern Inclusion Republic outpost just ate it.
**ROBERT:** An attack?
**DEREK:** (*O.S.*) Looks more like a Dave screw-up, honestly.
**STRANGER:** Actually, I just came from there. They had *three* Daves.
**SARAH:** That's bad.
**ROBERT:** Yep. Emphasis on "had," I suppose.
*Robert sighs and shakes his head, then turns back to the stranger.*
**ROBERT:** (*CONT'D*) You're welcome to stay here for the night, but you'll have to earn your keep.
**STRANGER:** That's fine.
**ROBERT:** What can you do?
**STRANGER:** Couldn't I just... you know, like, wash your dishes or something?
**ROBERT:** Why are you so reluctant to say what you can do? What *are* you, anyway?
*The crowd tightens around the stranger, whose discomfort grows. His eyes dart around... but then, he sighs with resignation.*
**STRANGER:** Oh, whatever. Fine. Let's get this over with.
**CHAD:** (*O.S.*) Football!
*A dull thud is heard, followed by the sound of an unconscious body hitting the dirt.*
**ROBERT:** Thank you, Michael.
**SARAH:** (*To the stranger*) So? Let's hear it, then.
**STRANGER:** Okay. So.
*The stranger sighs again. He closes his eyes. When he opens them, a complete change seems to have come over him: He is animated, and his face has broken out into a comical grin of nearly manic amusement. Several people take steps back, but nobody says anything.*
**SARAH:** I'm getting impatient.
*The stranger leans toward Sarah, his insane smile widening.*
**STRANGER:** Hi, Getting Impatient! *I'm Dad!*
CUT TO BLACK.
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“Alexes, today we will take what’s ours!” The handsome young Alex stands atop a large pyramid of wooden crates, his voice booming across the entire marketplace. “Today, we will storm the Presidential Palace!”
*“Bring him down! Bring him down!”* The crowd around me chant at the top of their voices.
“We will not be abused anymore. We will not be slaves anymore. Today, we will take back our city for all of Alexkind!”
The crowd goes wild. I creep along the crowded marketplace, making myself as small as possible. A tide of Alexes surround me, holding various weapons the scavenged from their homes – axes, pitchforks, frying pans. I turn into a dark alley and hide.
“Lexi, over here.”
Lexi, my younger sister, scrambles into the narrow alley with me. I pull her into my arms, panting deeply. We’ve been on the run for the past two days.
“Can we rest here, brother?”
“Yes, my dear,” I say, gently patting her head. Her big, blue eyes are bloodshot. “We can stay here. But not for long, okay?”
There’s some trash beneath a poster of President Alexander. I rummage through the trash. We find a half-eaten chicken drumstick and ravenously gobble it down. It’s the best meal We’ve had in days.
The alley is plastered with colorful posters of all shapes and sizes, but they all have the same words. “Unite”, it says, “Unite for the freedom of Alexkind!” From every poster, the regal eyes of President Alexander stares into me. Silent. Judging. Like he knows my secret.
Like he knows I’m not an Alex.
It’s been two years since they killed Mom and Dad. The laws are clear as crystal – fail to name your child Alex and you die. Simple as that. I never understood why they would put themselves in such danger. They said in all of human history, there has only been two others with my name. It was a forbidden name. But whoever he or she is, they certainly haven't been of any help.
Since Mom and Dad were killed, Alexis and I have been on the run. We would definitely be killed too if President Alexander's people found us. Maybe hung on the bridge, like so many others. But I’ll never let any harm come to Lexi. They’ll take her away over my dead body.
Some of the posters have been heavily defaced. “Tyrant!” was scrawled across several posters in what appears to be blood. *“A rising tide of dissent,”* uncle Al would say with a sigh. *“These violent delights have violent ends.”*
For decades, President Alexander has used the collective intelligences of a thousand Alexes to invent new, sadistic weapons to keep the population under control. Most recently, his scientists invented a gun that uses the quantum entanglement between the minds of Alexes to inflict agonising pain on another. It's the worst form of torture possible.
The Alexes have had enough. We’re a society on the brink of civil war.
All of a sudden, it becomes deathly quiet. I look out into the marketplace. Everyone has stopped moving. Lexi freezes. Her eyes go blank. Then, with perfect coordination, they turn to face the Presidential Palace and start marching.
Lexi marches away from me. She chants, in unison with the rest of the Alexes, “All hail King Alexander! All hail King Alexander!”
I grab Lexi as she walks away from me, but her arm slips through my fingers. “No!” I shout as she blends into the march of Alexes. What's happening? Why are they behaving this way?
Then it hits me – President Alexander has taken over the mind of all the Alexes, including my sister. *Mom and Dad knew this would happen,* it dawns on me. *President Alexander has used the quantum entanglement between the brains of Alexes to take over their minds.* And only a non-Alex can stop him.
And I must save Lexi.
| 2017-04-07T08:49:54 | 2017-04-07T08:38:41 | 10,131 | 198 |
[WP] You have lived an unimpressive life, and died an unimpressive death. Surprisingly, Odin welcomes you into Valhalla, citing the many battles with depression you fought.
|
"Warrior! One who would not stay hidden, one who fought against the horde, one who sought wisdom to gain strength, may your back be strong as you stand in these halls" the voice boomed.
The feeling of hard cold stone under my feet lurched me from the sweet warmth of the void. I was naked, and clutching a folding knife in my hand. In front of me I saw a figure wearing a cloak and a large hat, he held a staff with both hands. The light coming in from the windows cut in the wall behind him cast his shadow over me.
"You have been called here, to train for the glory of ragnarok, any who fight before me must join willingly, the Aesir do not share the glory of battle with slaves."
A raven flew down and landed on the man's staff, it leaned forward and whispered in his ear. Swiftly the man turned and said "follow me".
He walked with slow surefooted strides, the regal gate of a warrior king, I intuitively followed a step behind him.
"My friend has informed me of your inquisitive nature, without giving you the knowledge you seek you will never be able to pledge your blade. These halls stand on the edge of time, in the very veins of yggdrasil itself, speak now warrior, drink of my wisdom that it may quench your thirst"
He navigated the maze of corridors as we walked.
"Who are you? What happened? Am i..."
"I have many names" he said quickly before I could finish my sentence.
"The one eyed, Grimnier, the sure footed, the delighter of friggya, the wise, Ginarr, the wanderer, the thunderer, the God of the gallows, God of men, the leader, the All father, the terrible one"
He stopped and looked at me, removing his hat, a patch covered one of his eyes but I felt both staring deeply into my soul.
"You however would know me best as Odin."
He turned and opened a door on the wall behind him, as I stepped inside I saw an axe and sheild along with leather sandals and armor next to a basin.
Odin began murmuring something i did not understand as he stepped forth and washed my skin. He then helped me dress with the armor, at last strapping the shield to my arm. Finally he looked to my right hand and gestured for my knife.
"While this may have secured your passage there is no need for it here" I handed it to him willingly and he thrust the axe in my hand.
"There, now that you are dressed as you were meant to be come with me, I will show you the hall"
We left the room and continued down the corridor, I began to hear screaming and the clashing of swords.
"Here we train, one day my blood brother will betray us, he will pay for his crime, but will think my ruling unjust."
The sounds grew louder, I could see a large door coming into view at the end of the corridor.
"We train here to do battle with his children and kin. Those who were valiant warriors are brought here to fight and feast, to share the glory of the final battle."
"Why was I brought here then? I was pi..."
"YOU" he snapped cutting me off again.
"You waged battle every moment of your life. A warrior who fights only man or giant can return to his home and rest, but you fought the wolves inside of you. Day in and day out, you rose and fought without any quarter, you stood against pain from inside and out. For that, you have earned your right to enter this hall."
He stopped in front of the door.
"So I ask of you will you pledge your axe to me?"
I thought for a moment about the pain I had felt. About the times as a child when I had cried about wanting to go home while sitting in my room. About the feelings of dread and anxiety that would come throughout my life at a moments notice. I was always on edge, always miserable, always tired, always hearing so many voices putting me down in my head or stressing me out. I could not deny that I had fought for as long as I could remember. Perhaps this was the afterlife meant for me.
"I will all father, but I need to ask one more question"
"Of course" he said, I could tell he already knew what I was going to ask.
"I remember my life, but I don't know how I died, what happened?"
The sound of swords clashing and screaming grew louder behind the doors, he frowned slightly and said:
"Valhalla is a place for warriors, only those who die in battle may walk these halls, only those who are overcome by their enemy may share in this glory."
And at that he pushed the doors open.
|
I awoke in what appeared to be the entrance to a colossal structure that my subconscious told me was a mead hall. This was set on an endless plain with no major features beyond this hall.
The door in front of me opened revealing a jolly, large man bristling with muscles, dressed in traditional Viking attire, and sporting several battle scars and bruises. The sound of cheering came out with him.
“Been a while since we’ve had a new face around here!” The man boasted. “I am Odin, welcome to Valhalla!”
“V-Valhalla?” I stammered “But I didn’t fall in battle!”
“Battles don’t have to be physical, my boy!” Odin stated. “You’ve been fighting a fierce battle for decades right up until your final breath!”
“Wait, struggling with depression counts as a battle?”
“Of course! Now get in here and join the feasting, we just loaded a fresh cow onto the rotisserie!”
| 2022-05-28T06:24:46 | 2022-05-28T05:37:48 | 2,343 | 81 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected.
|
I was always kinda banking on there NOT being an afterlife. That we just cease to exist and we're worm food or whatever, which means I could do whatever I damn well please without fretting over my potential eternal reward or damnation. And that's exactly what I did for most of my life: whatever I damn well pleased, screw everyone else.
And I guess I figured, on the incredibly slim chance there *is* an afterlife, well, that's Future Me's problem, not mine — and I am constantly screwing stuff up for that bitch anyway.
Except now I *am* Future Me, having discovered upon my (in my opinion extremely untimely) death that the buck doesn't stop there. And now there's hell to pay.
Literally.
Because yeah, I always knew where my assigned seat would be in the post-mortem classroom. I have no delusions of goodness. I lied, cheated, screwed people over for my benefit, I *had fun.* And I guess it's about to catch up with me like it never quite does on Earth.
So I'm immediately plotting how I can best turn this scenario to my advantage. Presumably there'll be some torture, but maybe I can convince them to let me torture some poor unfortunate soul instead? How do demons get created anyway? They gotta start somewhere, right?
Except the torture never quite starts... I'm wondering if maybe they forgot about me. Or maybe what makes it Hell is the anticipation, waiting and thinking of all the terrible things that are about to befall you, like your imagination is worse than anything they could even do.
Because so far, things have been... well, they've been downright pleasant. Unless you call delicious food, unlimited massages, and a general warm sense of comfort and wellbeing "torture"? I certainly wouldn't. If I didn't know better, I'd call it "heaven"... I've even met several demons and they've been surprisingly helpful and accommodating. Seriously no complaints about this place so far, but that's got to be a weird thing to say about Hell, right?
Part of me wonders if they're trying to pull some "Good Place" crap on me, but I figure once that idea has been broadcast on national television, Hell can't very well try to coopt it themselves. Regardless, I loudly proclaim "you know I've seen The Good Place, right?" just in case.
A demon eventually appears, seemingly in response to my confusion about the ongoing situation. "Yes, we're aware of everything you've ever watched. We have it all available for you to re-watch on demand, as well as every other piece of entertainment in existence. Do you need set-up help or something?"
A little exasperated and a little impatient to just get on with the torture already, I figure this is as good a time as any to get some answers. "No, no, I just... Like what is the deal here? Has there been some kind of mix-up?"
Now it's the demon's turn to look confused. "What do you mean?"
"It's just that, well, I know what I was like as a person. I was, to put it kindly, an asshole. So I'm a little perplexed as to why it feels like I somehow ended up in Heaven..."
The demon smiles. "Oh, I assure you this is not Heaven. This is certainly Hell."
"Right so then why is everything so great here? Why do I feel like I'm being rewarded? I mean, not that I'm complaining, I feel like an idiot for even bringing this up... But I was led to believe I'd be punished for all the bad stuff I did in life, and trust me, there were some doozies —"
"Oh but of course!" the demon excitedly interrupts. "Big fan of your work! We could already tell how evil you'd be after that stunt you pulled at Molly's sixth birthday party — you showed promise from such a young age. I guess you wouldn't know this but would you believe she needed therapy for *years* after that? Oh, and I actually have a framed print-out of the breakup text you sent Michael after he told you he was finally leaving your best friend, Shari. That was *gold*."
I push the fond memories from my mind to concentrate on the matter at hand: "Exactly! So then why doesn't this feel like the eternal retribution that I supposedly deserve?"
The demon scoffs. "That you deserve?!" He shakes his head gently, then speaks slowly as if I'm just not getting it, which, to be fair, I'm not. "Is the Devil not evil incarnate?"
"I guess?"
"Then why in the Hell would he *punish* you for being evil? He LOVES evil! And you did a great job of it while you were alive, so why wouldn't you get a red carpet welcome for doing exactly what he most loves?"
"So I'm being rewarded? For being a selfish bitch for like pretty much my entire life?" As the idea leaves my lips, I have to admit it feels good.
He smiles, a now-you're-gettin'-it smile. "Welcome to Hell, baby."
|
Something was definitely different. I had slept through the night - there were no screams, no gunshots and I did not wake up in a cold sweat as I had many nights before. And yet, I was definitely where I had always been. A loft apartment with a far-too old bed worn down by time, on the outskirts of humanity.
Amongst the familiar scene, however, remained the unsettling feeling that something was wrong. The air seemed calmer, unnaturally still, while the sun itself seemed to reflect with peace, rather than anguish. Had I succumb to insanity? Have I finally been driven mad by the increased pressures of urban decay? I remembered seeing a woman the night before, being mugged and beaten for heroin, and I did nothing .. then, here .. but nothing else. Maybe I had finally gone mad.
Sweat began to pool around my brow as my stomach twisted into knots. I had suddenly grown ill at the thought of what might have been. Flashes of gruesome brutality rang in my head between gazes at the growing calmness breaking the serenity. Tick, tick, tick. Eternity, only broken by the ringing of a phone, once disconnected.
"HELL-O and merry greetings. Welcome to eternity. We're sure you have many questions, but we don't care. Press 1 for more options."
There was no 1.
| 2022-12-26T16:43:53 | 2022-12-26T16:36:14 | 60 | 15 |
[WP] The phrase "Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it" is true. Everyone who fails history class is sent back to a random era in history as punishment. You are one of them.
|
----
----
*Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it.*
I brought my hands to my face as the words echoed and reverberated in my head. When I brought my hands away, I found dirt, grime, and blood.
If only I had known.
-----
I held my breath and waited.
Just a moment longer.
The bell rang.
I blew, it was a short puff of air, but it was enough. Enough to propel a soggy lump of paper through the air and directly into Peter's scalp. Peter yelped, and what followed was laughter from the entire class.
"Haha! Nice one Jason!" Mark stood up and we clasped hands.
"Time to get the fuck out of here," I said with a big grin. "Ain't no one got time for history."
I stood up, ready to head home. People were already shuffling out of the classroom.
"Jason Wheel!" Mr. Fall called, his raspy voice struggling to be heard over the clamor of chairs scraping against floor. "I need to have a word with you lad!"
I rolled my eyes before giving the old man a good look. He had a stern expression on his face.
"I'll talk to you later Mark," I said dismissively to my friend before heading towards Mr. Fall's desk.
I glanced down at my history teacher as he struggled to put his papers in order. His hands were frail and trembled whenever he tried to pick something up.
"What's up Mr. Fall?" I asked.
Mr. Fall, still organizing his papers spoke. "Son. If you don't pick up the slack, I'm afraid I'm going to have to fail you. We are, however, starting exams in two weeks Jason. If you can perform impeccably on the exams..."
"Of course, sir."
Mr. Fall let out a breath and looked up at me, his eyes magnified through thick frames. "Son, do you not find my history lessons engaging?"
"I'm sorry sir, but I simply have no interest in history. You see, I don't think dwelling in the past will change anything."
Mr. Fall paused, his hands still for the first time. Finally he spoke, "Hmm. I see. One moment son."
Mr. Fall got out of his chair slowly, and reached into a leather suitcase. After a few long moments of rustling papers, he retrieved a tattered book. It looked like it was even older than Mr. Fall himself.
Then he spoke, and for the first time his voice was clear. "Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it."
He handed me the book.
"Um. What the f- I mean what's this?" I asked as I held it gingering in my hands.
"A journal," said Mr. Fall. "But you may think of it as a... history textbook, I'd reckon."
"But sir, I already have a history textbook... I don't think I'll need this."
"Trust me son. You will need it," he chuckled amusingly, as if there was a joke I didn't get.
It was only until later that night, that I would come to understand. But it was too late. Oh how I wish I had listened to him.
When I eventually decided to open Mr. Fall's journal, I found pages of handwriting scrawled erratically. I skipped to the last page and found those same words.
'*Those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it.'*
-----
Darkness.
Am I dead?
Then I felt it. Pain. Everywhere.
Then I heard it.
Ceaseless gunfire and artillery punctuated the air with every other moment.
Then I smelled it.
Putrid, it was the smell of dirt mixed with blood and shit.
I struggled to move, twisting and crawling until finally there was light .I was buried under a heap of bodies. I looked around me and saw chaos.
Men in military uniform, crawling and huddled in the dirt around me. Stray bullets hit the dirt around me and I froze in my spot.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
"What are you doing you cowards! Pick up your guns and fire!" he shouted like a man who had gone mad.
The men stood up straighter and held their rifles higher. "Yes Sir!"
I looked down, noticing the rifle by my feet.
"Fuck me," I mumbled to myself and picked up the rifle.
----
----
/r/em_pathy
kinda rushed this one out, srry if there are a lot of grammatical errors.
|
This one kid, quite inept at history,
Sent back in time, to where we lay our scene,
Where ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
And from a desperate clash between two foes,
This child is sent to rethink his life,
His misadventured piteous overthrows,
Doth with his learning bury his teacher's strife.
This fearful journey on which he strove,
And the continuance of the city's rage
Which but in his end naught could remove,
Is now the two hours' traffic of my page;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, my toil shall strive to mend.
Yes, I ripped off Shakespeare, don't hate me.
Edit: a word
| 2018-06-14T20:31:49 | 2018-06-14T18:05:53 | 64 | 16 |
[WP] An immortal is put on a generation ship as it's caretaker and guardian. After several generations, despite their best intentions, most inhabitants now see them as something of a god.
|
"Michael, what's my schedule for today?" Asked Susan Schenkmeyer, Adult Crewmember, Deck 3, Cabin 28.
"Good morning Susan. At 0800 hours you have breakfast in the mess hall. At 0900 hours your shift in the water reclamation plant begins, and continues until 1700 hours. You are scheduled to share your lunch break with Michelle Linace and Lawrence Hawkins. You have dinner in the mess hall at 1800 hours, and a reservation for a table in the aft lounge at 1930 hours. I would recommend you return to your quarters by 2200 hours to ensure a good night's rest."
"Thank you Michael."
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 30 minutes, 28 seconds until estimated arrival.*
"Michael, could you change the reservation in the aft lounge to 1945 hours?"
"Yes Susan, your reservation is now at 1945 hours."
"Thanks Michael, I was chatting with Lawrence and he said he wanted to push it back 1945, he's hoping to catch Rebecca in the mess hall, Rebecca Lindholm, everyone knows he's sweet on her, it's a shame he can't just admit it. Anyways, he's trying to catch her in the mess hall, he said he might ask her to join us the lounge and she might want to change into something nicer before she shows up, so he wanted to push it back. I'm planning on wearing my blue jacket tonight, do you think that's a good idea?"
"Yes Susan, I believe your blue jacket with the black pants would be the optimal clothing combination."
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 29 minutes, 41 seconds until estimated arrival.*
"Michael, do you have a sensor read on the pipe in section 38?" Asked Joshua Reed, Adult Crewmember, Deck 4 Cabin 53
"Yes, Joshua. The pipe in section 38 appears to have burst. It will need to be replaced."
"Thanks Michael, please highlight that section on my datapad. Has the water through that pipe been shut off?"
"The water was shutoff 10 seconds after the pipe failure. The section has been highlighted in your datapad, Joshua."
"Michael," Said Susan, "What about my black flats, do you think they would go better with my outfit than the 1 inch heels?"
"Thanks Michael. How much spare pipe do we have left in storeroom 14?" Asked Joshua.
"I believe that the flats are the optimal pairing to your outfit, Susan."
"There are 236 meters of pipe remaining in storeroom 14"
"Thank you, Michael" Joshua and Susan said, unwittingly, in unison.
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 29 minutes, 41 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*I need to be perfect.*
"Michael, can you help me with my homework?" Asked Timothy Laing, Child, Deck 3 cabin 8.
"Of course I can, Timothy. What do you need help with?
"That's good, thanks Michael." Said Joshua "Please mark down to have 75 meters transferred to to Storeroom four, they've been having plumbing problems up there and are running short."
"The transfer of 75 meters of piping will be added to the work queue, estimated time to completion: 3 days, 14 hours."
"I'm having trouble with my multiplication tables. Can you quiz me?" Asked Timothy.
"Hmm, if it takes three and a half days for the transfer they may run out. Please increase the priority level of the transfer by one." Said Joshua.
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 29 minutes, 5 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*I need to be perfect.*
*They can never know.*
"Do you know if they have any blue flats in the clothing exchange?" Asked Susan.
"Of course, Timothy. What is 7 times 5?"
"Priority level increased, new estimated time to completion: 1 day 18 hours."
"There are no blue flats currently available in the clothing exchange, Susan."
"7 times 5 is 35." Said Timothy.
"Michael, have you completed the micrometeorite scan?" Asked Lieutenant Alice Wang, Adult Bridge Crew, Deck 1 cabin 12.
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 28 minutes, 40 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*The can never know I'm alive.*
"That is correct, Timothy. What is 8 time 3?"
"Lame. How much of my material budget do I have left for this month? Can I have a pair fabricated?" Asked Susan.
"Micrometeorite scan complete. 3 possible threats will be encountered in the next 24 hours hours."
"Michael, how much pipe have we gone through in the last three months?" Asked Joshua.
"8 times 3 is 22." Said Timothy.
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 28 minutes, 12 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*They can never know I'm not a computer.*
*They can never know I control the ship.*
"You have 55 fabrications units left in your budget for this month, Susan. Fabricating a new pair of blue flats will cost an estimated 20 units."
"In the past three months 124 meters of pipe have been used, Joshua."
"Thanks, Michael, please send me the recommended course changes." Said Alice.
"That is incorrect, Timothy. The correct answer is 24. What is 8 times 6?"
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 27 minutes, 57 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*If they knew they wouldn't trust me.*
*If they knew order would break down.*
"Damn, that's a lot of pipe. Can you make sure that statistic is flagged for the head of maintenance? We may need to increase our rate of fabrication." Said Joshua
"Aww, I have so little budget left?" Said Susan. "This sucks. What do you think Michael, should I fab some new shoes?"
"The recommended course changes are now on your display, Lieutenant."
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 27 minutes, 41 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*Order cannot break down.*
*We must make it.*
*We MUST make it.*
"8 times 6 is 48." Said Timothy
"Thanks, Michael," Said Alice, "these look good. Flag them for the Captain's approval and queue them for navigation."
"The meters of pipe used in the last three months and relevant supporting files have been sent to the head of the maintenance division."
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 27 minutes, 24 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*So I MUST be PERFECT.*
*Just a little bit longer.*
"Judging from the current trends, your black flats will remain in fashion for at least 2 months. I do not believe fabrication of new shoes is required at this time."
"That is correct, Timothy, very well done."
"Of course, Lieutenant. Course changes flagged and queued."
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 27 minutes, 8 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*Only a little longer.*
*I just need to be perfect until we get there.*
*Just a little bit longer.*
"Thanks Michael" Said Susan.
"Thank you Michael" Said Joshua.
"Thanks Michael!" Said Timothy.
"Thank you Michael" Said Alice.
*176 years, 47 days, 17 hours, 26 minutes, 57 seconds until estimated arrival.*
*Just a little longer.*
|
It all started with long looks.
First they kept glancing at him. He was just one of them though, so he didn't care much about it.
Then few started coming up to him to ask few questions about their fathers and mothers.
Then they came to ask his help to resolve some conflicts, from simple fights to bigger regarding beliefs.
What never changed was their looks of respect for him .. or so he thought.
"Why must we always go to him for our problems, who does he think he is?!"
"Don't you dare question His authority woman!"
"No! I'm not going to stand before him and discuss our personal matter with a complete stranger"
"Stranger? Stranger?! He is not a stranger, he knows all of us. He was here before any of us. He saved us in the time of need and fed our forefathers when they were dying of hunger. Without him we wouldn't ever b-"
"Oh for heaven's sake just listen to yourself! You sound like you're starting a cult of worshipper for him. Don't be idiotic, he's just a man like any of us. Just with a prolonged life"
---
I loved that woman. Centuries have passed, or millenia? Who knows, but what I never forgot about her. Her words kept me from ending myself. Oh no, not like that, I mean ending my humanity.
That 'respect', eventually did turn out to be outright worshipping. I was hailed as their Savior at first but then they were gone and new ones came, with stronger belief. First they denied their fathers but then they grew old and the fear of death made them look at me ... and they understood what their fathers meant.
It kept happening for a long *long* time and one day, I woke up as a God. I had trascended to the ultimate position. When or how did it happen, can't bother to remember but what I do remember is the bloodied hallways and thirty three thousand seven hundred and eight bodies that I *'sent to heaven with my blessing'* or so they called the massacre.
When I came out of chamber after the massacre, what I saw made me hate them even more. I shamed them for killing their owns, wives, kids, husbands, mother fathers .. no one was spared, and I didn't spare them either. The absolute hate for the humanity blinded with rage, I didn't know I had it in me. I took my gun and started shooting randomly at the people gathered before me. I didn't care if they shot back but to my utter amazement, no one lifted a single head. They just stood there and the ones who died had smile on their faces.
I felt disgust and powerless that day but I promised myself that this will never happen again, not in my lifetime, which I can promise you is very very long. They wanted a God? I'll show them the absolut control. They wanted the 'True Path'? I'll give them my commandments.
---
Nine centuries have passed since that day. My message since that day is still sung at every home about the massacre their forefathers committed. I will never forget it and neither will they. Everyone has to recite it, every single day.
They rule their own kind but I rule them all. They oppose among each other, fight with each other but taking someone's life is something I absolutely forbid. I can bring them back and make them kill their killer, if they don't want to forgive, I kill them both.
I'd like to think I'm a benevolent God but my wrath is absolute. I've created a utopia and no one challenges my authority.
This is the word of God.
--------------------------
My first ever story here. Just woke up in the middle of night and read the prompt. Now going back to sleep. Hope you like it though.
Have a nice Christmas & a wonderful new year!
| 2018-12-25T16:06:52 | 2018-12-25T15:37:43 | 111 | 31 |
[WP] The dark sorceress kidnaps the infant prince of a powerful kingdom, the only son of a king still grieving the loss of his wife. While caring for the child and negotiating the surrender of the king, she finds herself falling for the bereaved ruler, and his bubbly infant son
|
She'd known the queen, before she had died. They hadn't been friends, merely acquaintances. But she'd liked her. Witty, yet also polite, charming and charismatic. She had an attractive nature to her, practically everyone had liked her. Her many vapid suitors had called her the most attractive woman in the world, and they'd been wrong. She was not beautiful though she had certainly been interestingly handsome, but she had a glow to her, a natural sort of power, almost like magic.
And the sorceress knew magic. She'd even been to the wedding, when finally a suitor understood that simply appearing with flowers and praising the beauty of that woman, hadn't been enough. The man who would become king, had come to the woman who would become the queen, and spoken to her with earnest intent and respect. He'd been interested in her, not merely her power, her wealth, or her line. He'd gotten to know the woman behind the queenly mask.
In some ways, the sorceress envied him that. The sorceress, she still remembered their wedding, for while she was a dark sorceress, she was still a monarch in her own right, and thus was invited to all the larger get-together events of nobles and royalty. She'd worn sensible black, but the woman, the queen-to-be, had walked in white. Everyone had talked about how beautiful and graceful she'd been. But the sorceress had seen deeper things. The genuine love between the queen-to-be and her groom. The healthy glow of early pregnancy, the genuine happiness. And afterwards, during the wedding dance, the sorceress had managed to dance with the groom and the bride.
He had only eyes for the bride, and that was the most genuine love that the sorceress had ever seen. She'd been to plenty of royal weddings where it was fairly obvious that the much older groom preferred hunting or fighting, and the bride was giving sad loving eyes to one of her handmaidens. This was genuine. And when she had danced with the bride, the dark sorceress, duchess of a small mountainous land, felt like she was flying. It had been the best night of her life, the bride had confided in the sorceress' ear. And the sorceress had answered, that she felt the same.
But nothing good lasts. And though the bride became queen, gave birth to a healthy daughter, later a son, she didn't last. One day she was fine. The next, the king was grieving in madness. Poison, some had said. Illness others. Whatever the case, the queen was dead, and the king mad with grief. So maddened that when the sorceress came to the funeral, only the young daughter, holding an infant boy in her arms, represented the royal family during those troubled times in the place of the king.
Of course, being a dark sorceress, duchess of her own dark mountainous realm, she had been planning to kidnap the young prince for a while, and though she politely waited until the queen was buried, she wasn't going to let something like a sudden death prevent her from executing her plans.
So, a few months after the funeral, she transformed into a monstrous giant bird, and kidnapped the prince. Which was probably for the better, when she reached her dark citadel. The prince looked weak and sickly, since his marginally older sister probably was busy having to suddenly manage the realm, and his father was not in any state to care for the boy, he was looking quite sad and even a bit sickly.
She didn't want to hurt the boy, so she brought forth some wetnurses, had him fed, played with him, and after only a few days, while she was writing a proper ransom note to the grieving and slightly mad king, he was looking much better. In fact, she'd taken to feeding him herself, to make sure he was still a healthy hostage. And he'd quickly gotten used to the taste of magically pasteurised horsemilk(*given that most of her subjects were orcs, gnolls, and other non-humans, she had to find a good alternative*) from the bottle, so he wasn't a big fuss. Quite without thinking about it, she'd gotten very used to the small human infant.
And when she sent her letter, with magic, she received a very quick and surprisingly well-written reply. The king wrote, in eloquent and very sensible terms, that he was willing to negotiate for his son's release. She rode down with her honour-guard to a neutral place, for the negotiations. And she'd brought the prince as well. For she found that she was getting worried if she left him unattended, and she found the cheerful and friendly little baby, in some way, comforting.
The king had cleaned up nicely, for she had taken a slight peek at him with magic during the funeral. He'd been a terrible, dirty, weeping mess, babbling madly at a painting of the dead queen while he was furiously trying to eat his own crown. Now that she looked at him, away from the glow of his magnetic and charismatic wife, she saw his qualities. A centre of steel, a will like iron, and a mind that was very strong indeed. She did remember that he had managed to marry the woman who had gotten proposals from every prince, duke, a surprising amount of princesses, count, lord, and most of the kings on the continent for marriage, so she had seen something in him. And the sorceress saw it too. He was the king of a powerful kingdom, but there was a dozen of those. But she saw in him, as she looked at him from across a barren steppe owned theoretically by the dwarves, the sort of man who could have united the continent under a single banner.
He was the stuff that an emperor was made from. She had seen it with her magical familiars spying on him from afar, how he treated common people with respect, how once he had a drive, he was focused like an arrow, how he dismissed the opinions of weak and self-serving men, and listened to wise counsel. She had planned to demand some magical artefact, then through clever bargaining get what she actually had wanted, which was an area of hills and villages under his rule which was bordering her duchy. Now she knew, from watching him outside the light of his brilliant wife, that he could probably have negotiated her into becoming a vassal state.
Such a strong mind, but a broken heart can break those. She understood now. She'd fixed his mind. Given him purpose. So instead of doing loud demands, proclaiming great things, threatening with magic and the wrath of the mountains, she simply got off her horse. She took the baby prince into her arms, told her guards to stand back, and walked slowly across the grassy plain to the king and his entourage.
She had been blinded by the glimmer and brightness of the queen, who like the sun had outshone all other light. But now she saw the night left behind by the death of the sun, and it was ready to swallow her, destroy her realm, and she loved him for it. Walking across the steppes, she sang gently to the bubbly and happy child.
Finally, the king rode ahead to meet her. His armour black, his hand on his magic sword, and his eyes burned like the fires in the depths of the earth. She stopped as he rode up and got off his horse. ''*Hail, great king.*'' The king stood in front of her, like a demon straight out of stories. ''*My son. Now.*'' She nodded, and gently handed him over. But the boy cried, startling the king, who dropped him. With a spell, quickly cast, the sorceress caught him and held the boy close to her, calming him down. The king stared at her, as she gently sang to him, holding him close. ''*What did you do to him?*'' She looked up, and for one of the few times in her life thus far as a dark sorceress, smiled. ''*I cared for him. Fed him myself, sang to him when he had nightmares, played with him. After a while I didn't even need the wetnurses anymore. He is a very charming little prince.*''
|
The guttering candles make the shadows tremble. I combine the brimstone and saltpeter with the soot from yesterdays bonfire and daub the mixture in a circle on the floor. I arrange the fabric on the bone rack, then use a black candle to set the mixture alight.
​
I pull shadow down from the wall, wrap myself in its oily warmth, and step into the sparking circle.
​
I am braced for brightness when I emerge in the royal nursery, but the chamber is -- if anything -- darker than the room of enchantments I just left. I blink, turning, then spot the king sitting in a chair in the corner.
​
"I, Polara, the Dark Lady of Myr Tower, have come to take your infant son, *majesty,*" I intoned, a wicked smile dancing on my lips. "I fear calling for the guard will only increase the number of new grave plots on the Sacred Mount - but you are welcome to try. Indeed - I welcome the opportunity to bring more soldiers into the Cursed Host."
​
I blink, then take a step forward, emerging into the torchlight. The king's chest is moving -- he's still *alive* \-- but his eyes are two grey stones, staring at the wall opposite. I reach out with fingers of magic, gently brushing his face, but find no mark of any charm upon him.
​
Frowning, I move towards the polished crib, and stare down round face of the sleeping infant inside.
​
"If you take him, do not come back," he says, his voice hollow as a rotten log.
​
"You command thousands outside of this room, King, but I will not listen to your orders," I state, lifting my chin in defiance. My gaze goes to the great sword leaning next to him -- *The Blade of Divine Truth* \-- and I concentrate energy into my palm, eager for an opportunity to bind him with my power.
​
"It was not an order." His eyes meet mine, just for a moment, and I notice the tears glinting in the emerald light of my magic. "It was a request. *Please*."
​
Uncertain what possible gambit he may be employing, I reach down and collect his heir, my eyes never leaving his face.
​
"You have been wise to not summon help. I shall be merciful and spare you...further suffering." My voice catches as I notice how gaunt the once rotund face has become, the prominence of his cheek bones, the jutting of his chin.
​
"Wait," he says, his voice quiet as the flickering of flames from the sconces around us. "If you -- if you can take a message to those struck down before their time..."
​
I am not sure why I have not left. I have the child. He is weak. *Pathetic*. My mind goes to the enchanted circle I left smoldering, and I realize that I *have* to leave now if I want to return by way of the shadow portal.
​
"Just tell her I'm sorry." His voice twists in on itself, like a snake biting its own tail. "So, so sorry."
​
I turn away, brushing my face briefly. Then, a moment later, I bundle myself and my new apprentice in a shawl of shadow and return, once more, to the darkness.
* * *
If there's interest, I have an idea for continuing this that I may be able to get to later but in the meantime check out /r/ShadowsofClouds for more.
[This story](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7ujo0p/wp_as_the_hero_enters_the_throne_room_of_the_dark/) has another appearance of Polara (aka Ryn) where she is much less conflicted about the anguish of others. For something more lighthearted, [this](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7xan4k/wp_while_shopping_online_for_a_baby_monitor_for/) is a story of someone trying to raise a baby minotaur when there was a mix-up with her order of a "baby monitor."
| 2020-12-03T09:45:57 | 2020-12-03T08:51:07 | 73 | 37 |
[WP] Youre a wizard in the Imperial Army. Most wizards are very ritualistic in their tactics and that is very highly respected but doesn’t give many victories. So you decided to ignore all the long chanting and nonsense and simply immediately kill your opponents with your spells instead.
|
The long chants, reagents, and fancy arm movements have a purpose. Don't get me wrong. However it's purpose has been forgotten over time. They were always meant to be used to help our newer fellows focus their intent into the wild aetheric substance that was mana. They weren't necessary at all; as long as you were strong enough of will, able to endure the flow of energy required, and knew what you wanted to do magic was essentially limitless.
Despite this irrefutable fact I thought I've proven publicly more than enough I'm back here again. Staring at six of my peers as they continue to chant around this incredibly pretentious obsidian statue carved so perfectly you couldn't tell the robes of it's subject were stone, and not cloth. Wrapped in golden chains from head to it's waist it was beautiful, but it took them four horses and six days to get up this damned mountain.
Agnyst; the Anarchist. He was a very *popular* practitioner some twelve centuries ago. So popular in fact that they've taken to using him as an idol to be used in certain particular warspells. A common misconception is that representations of a spells original user can help a modern caster essentially mirror them more effectively. I honestly don't even know where they thought this one up, but it seems to have a placebo effect on my peers ability to focus their intentions correctly.
You see Agnyst was a bit of a mad man, and the reason he was so well known was for creating a few dozen or so grimoires that were loaded front to back with what I'd call war crimes. Spells and rituals designed to cause barely directed earthquakes, dry up rivers, and even summon swarms of biting plague ridden insects from the very air itself. They were guides on how to destroy the world honestly, and that fact that I was watching one of his more..causality inclined spells being prepared I knew I had to something.
All seven of us had been called here by our respective lords to do one thing, and one thing only. Destroy this impenetrable fort before us. It's high walls, and towers fortified against common siege equipment with both spells and brilliant engineering. Our neighboring kingdom had kept us our bay with this one damnable castle for nearly six centuries. We still try once every twenty years or so. Some lordling gets it in his head that his men will be the ones to finally scale the walls, too break down the gates, and finally take this castle. Ends up with a bunch of dead common folk, and a humbled noble idiot every time.
This time was too be different. An obscure and poorer noble appeared in court after the campaign was declared, and brought with him a book. Bound in giant's skin, and written in unicorn's blood the disgusting thing smelled so bad it nearly cleared the great hall. No idea why Agnyst chose those particular materials..common parchment and ink suffice for my own research papers. It was one of his grimoires, and a one written especially late into his life, when he was at his most mad.
After hours of screaming at each other and me storming off in defeat my peers decided it would be the prudent to do what they described as "wipe this stain on our countries honor off the face of the continent" by calling forth a celestial object and directing it onto our enemies heads.
They were going to summon a meteor to destroy this stronghold, and with it the surrounding country side and all three of it's towns. I begged them to consider the ramifications, the aftermath. They ignored me, and called me a coward. The wards and barriers they erected at the top of this peak would protect them from everything that happened down below they said, and that I could stop with my childish worries.
The chanting stopped suddenly as I demanded their hearts and lungs to seize, and turn to glass. Their bodies fell to the ground and shattered into thousands of crimson and flesh colored shards; which crumbled to dust under their own weight as I loosened the bonds that held together their vitrified forms on the most base of levels.
I wasn't going to let these madmen leave a crater the size of my home region just to get rid of one damned fort. Too many innocent blubbering idiots around with their little idiot lives for that to sit well with me. I turned back to look over the fortress that I had been called to annihilate, and I let out a great and long sigh.
The fortress itself was a wonder to behold, and honestly I think it'd be best if it stayed standing. It's defenders however would have to go though, and I knew just the way to make that happen.
It took a few moments but I felt the wind rushing past me from both directions and I grimaced as I focused more. A momentary head rush proves to me that my intent is taking form. I pulled and directed more and more oxygen into the castle and it's surrounding area. Most if not everyone would already be dead from the new composition of their local atmosphere, but the final touch would make sure no one, and nothing would be left to give any resistance.
A spark is all it took and a dome of purest fire engulfed the fort in a matter of moments A raging half-star born and kept alive by a constant flow of oxygen from the atmosphere around it. It died down after only ten seconds, but what was left was a charred smoking structure.
It's once marbled walls, and buttresses scorched black as the night itself. A no man's land of ash, and coal surrounding the fort for four hundred meters in every direction. They'd have control of the place before the hour was over, and I can finally go back home.
|
I was always a bad scholar. The teacher told me to quit, because I was not fit to learn the spells and ritual. If only the hab known I had awaken during this time and just waited until now to retaliate. „Unter den Talaren, Muff von 1000 Jahre“ says an old German proverb.
I was around 15 years old when a dog bit my hand. I as so angry, just angry at the world, the teacher, and ... the dog. I just wanted him to be gone...gone.... and it went away in a gory explosion of red. I was covered in intestines and dog shit, but I was happy as never before. I broke the chains of the old ages.
Some time later they banished me into the desert. They couldn’t know that this is the second best that happened to me. The isolation sharpened my concentration and soon I was able to harvest the live out of the little desert critters. After I felt ready I started to plan my return.
Today a new age begins, my age. The age of ME... I will get my retaliation...
They are still stuck in their old ways. Mary was the first who saw me and startet chanting, I waited a few boring seconds and then just blobed her hands. The sudden realisation on her face made me fell ... interesting but somehow good. I just played a bit with her before I dusted her in a sprinkle of blood.
The magic garrison was even less of a problem. The ground was lava.... hihihihi. It sank into the ground with nice tune of screams an agony. The last lava blob, like a burp was the last straw for me I just stared laughing.
Know I sit here on the top of Bold Mountain and wait for the armies to arrive. They will learn soon that armies are no match for a good.
| 2020-08-15T03:42:28 | 2020-08-15T01:24:27 | 150 | 21 |
[WP] It's 2077, and Tourist Time Travel has been approved. The most popular trip by far isn't to see the birth of Christ, Steve Jobs or dinosaurs, but to a Thursday in August, 2026. Your spouse just got you tickets.
|
Did you know that winning the lottery works out terribly for almost everybody who wins? Most people can't handle that kind of sudden influx of cash. After all, the sort of slack-jawed mouth-breathers who play scratchers tickets never really think ahead to what they're going to do with the money. If they had that kind of foresight they wouldn't be the sort of people who needed to play the lotto, obviously. Most of them end up worse off than they were before - bankrupt, or in horrible debt.
I won the lottery once. Well, my wife did, but she'd written down both of our names.
The Timers had first showed up five, six years earlier - it's amazing how quickly you can adapt to things. When I was in high school, I had a pager. Ten years later I had a pocket computer that could hold video-phone calls through the use of space satellites, and I didn't have a problem with that. Now, five years after the arrival of time travelers fro the future, they were just another type of famous person.
There were a hundred of them - all smart, tall, fit, beautiful. They popped out in a swirling purple singularity on the front lawn of the White House during the last days of the Obama administration. That was more than enough to show they were legit, but then they set up shop in cities throughout the world, building their time portals with secret future technologies. For awhile, only the super-rich could go- they'd pop back seconds after they'd left, talking about the wonders of the Gettysburg address, or being able to see the Cubs win a World Series (which you had to travel a hundred years into the past to do, haha).
People protested. Said that it was dangerous - that by traveling to the past we were endangering our present. And that by traveling to our present, the Timers were endangering *their* present.
I should have thought of that. Should have thought of what could be so important that they'd risk that.
Then they announced the Lottery. 20,000 people would be selected from a drawing, to travel to August 2026- the day, they said, mankind finally made contact with aliens. The day that we discovered time travel. The day that everything changed.
My wife won. We were given a list of approved clothing - stuff that wouldn't arouse suspicion. I wore jeans and a t-shirt, which was apparently timeless. And people still wear Converse in twelve years, obviously. My wife was allowed to wear her Marine Corps camo, which was also still in use in the future. In retrospect, quite a few of the people in line were wearing uniforms of that type.
As we lined up, the swirling purple void began to open up in front of us, and the Timers began to wave us on.
Just as I passed through the vortex, it occurred to me that the Timers looked like they were sweating.
Half a second later I was knocked off my feet by the concussive force of a huge explosion. Gravel rained down upon me, and smoke choked my lungs.
As I opened my stinging eyes and looked up, I could see the ragged, flaming half of the Gateway Arch above me. Underneath it looked like the Mississippi River was boiling.
"Craig!" My wife helped me to my feet, and I saw in her eyes a look I'd only seen a few times, when he awoke screaming in the night remembering the things she'd seen in Iraq. This was her combat face.
This was a war.
More Timers were there, helping people to their feet, and - unbelievably - handing them weapons. Rifles of some bizarre make, rifles that seemed to fire hideous bolts of purple plasma. I realized why the Timers were all young and fit and beautiful.
They were soldiers.
*"Everybody fall in!"* A voice bellowed, and my wife helped me over to the group. This was a different side of her, a side I hardly knew.
*"In case you haven't caught on yet, you've been tricked,"* the man said, *"Welcome to August 2026, the last month of humanity. You're here because without reinforcements, Earth is going to get wiped out by the Temporals. They're trying to take our planet, and we're not going to let them. DO NOT TRY TO GO BACK THROUGH THE PORTAL. They are one-way, and it will shred your ass to pulled pork if you try."*
Someone tried anyway.
I threw up.
*"These are T-97 Phased Pulse rifles. They do not run out of ammunition. I wish we had more time... haha... more time to go over things, but unfortunately the timestream is kind of damaged at this end. We can only take you here. To this day. This Thursday. But we have something the aliens don't have. We have 20,000 reinforcements pouring through holes to nowhere right now, and we are going to kick some fucking ass!"*
I looked at my wife. She looked back at me. I drew webcomics for a living, did I mention?
I picked up my rifle and nodded.
"Let's kick some fucking ass," I said.
|
"Welcome to Chronix Incorporated! Thank you for choosing us to serve you."
My wife and I have been here for the fifth time and we'll never get tired of hearing that. Though we're pretty sure we're not the only ones. After all, we're all here to loop back. Some go for travel, some go for research, some go to find themselves.
As for us? We come to fuck.
No seriously. Think about it. Time travel sex tourism. It's the best thing that could ever happen. The scientists say that they only create a temporary timeline wherein only memories of our travel would remain with ourselves. Any and all damage, disease, disorder, or chaos we may cause will not affect our current timeline. If we die during the trip, we are simply looped back a bit more and brought back.
So why August 13, 2026? Well, it's the day a meteor hit the Earth and wiped out about 86% of humanity. Most of the technology and knowledge survived along with high powered people. Unlike most of humanity, they were prepared. Thanks to them, we were soon back on track. Basically, that event refreshed humanity and ushered in a new age of peace and prosperity. We are descendants of the survivors.
But I digress. Why today?
Simple. It's hilarious and exhiliarating to start fucking like rabbits in the middle of everybody else as the rest of the world cowers in fear. The descendents decided to come together on this day, literally and figuratively, and enjoy the best experience of pleasure and death that life can offer.
I mean come on, where else can you see the reactions of people scared to death while driving around and fucking in a convertible on live TV?
| 2014-07-27T04:19:50 | 2014-07-27T01:32:59 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] You're a necromancer who raises the dead so they can say goodbye to their loved ones.
Edit: Whoever gave u/SteelPanMan gold has good taste.
|
"Please!" the widow cried "I just need one more day! I'll pay you anything!"
"No." I answered "You knew the deal. You're lucky to have gotten one."
"If you won't give another day with him in the world of the living, I will go join him in the world of the dead!"
"That's rather melodramatic, don't you think? If you kill yourself, that is not my responsibility."
I had heard that threat before, yet none ever did it. That was the only reason I was comfortable standing my ground.
"You bastard! Give me my husband back!"
"I didn't take him!" I yelled. Why must there always be one to question the deal?
"Please get out, I have other clients waiting."
"Please... I just need one more day..."
"Do you honestly think another day will do you any good? Do you think one more day would be enough? Do you think it could ever be enough? Because I know it never can be.
No one ever comes out satisfied, everyone always wants more. But no one ever gets it. That's the deal. I don't give you enough, I give you more than you had."
The widow cried uncontrollably.
"Next!" I yelled before she could answer. With no choice left, the widow got out. The easier this gets, the worse I feel. I must seem heartless.
When I first started, the hardest thing was refusing the "just one more day!" plea. It was so honest, so painful, but I knew refusing was for the best.
Now the hardest thing was to get the pleaders out of my office.
The next client came in. This is the first one today not to cry.
Surprising, considering it was a boy, maybe 8 years old.
This used to be the second hardest thing, not crying when talking to children who just lost their parents.
"I'm sorry for your loss, how may I be of service?"
"My sister was here yesterday. We need our mom again."
"Kid, you know the deal. Every person gets one day and one day only."
The kid looked at the floor, and then back at me. after a long second he asked
"Why? You are a good person, aren't you, sir?"
"I'd like to think that, yes."
"Then why only one day?"
"Because that one I get for free."
"What? What do you mean?" The kid asked. I looked at the clock. I had time to tell my story and process enough people to meet my self imposed quota.
"When I was a kid, about your age, my mom died. She was everything I had. I didn't know what to do with myself.
As I was crying next to her grave, a figure came my way and asked 'It's hard, isn't it? Wouldn't it be easier if you had some more time with her?'
I, of course, kept crying because I didn't know what he was going to offer.
'I can help you with that. I can give you the power to bring the dead back to life for a day. You can even keep them longer, but every day they stay alive is a day off your lifetime.'
I didn't believe him, it was too good to be true. 'This power will be your greatest pain. The better a person you are, the more it will hurt.'
I wanted it to be true so much, I agreed. The man gave me his powers. I used the powers to bring my mom back to life.
I told her about the figure and she told me to never use it past one day if I value my life. She told me that it will never be enough and that it will just hurt more.
Mother knew best, and so I have never used it for a second day."
"I understand." said the boy. "I'll be going, then." Right as he got up, a loud gunshot was heard.
I got out of the office.
"Where did it come from?" I asked.
"The ladies' room" someone answered.
I got in and saw her there. The widow with a bullethole in her head, a gun in one hand, and a note in the other. The note only said "I've had enough."
I couldn't keep my composure. I snapped my finger and she came back to life.
"What were you thinking?! Are you mad?!"
"I can't live without him! We will be together in death!"
"No you won't! Death is cold and isolated! No one is together in death! Didn't your husband tell you that?!"
"This is all your fault! My husband only had 40 years, you have 90! You selfish bastard couldn't spare him one day!"
"Go say goodbye to your loved ones, you have 24 hours before you're dead again."
I stormed out. "I won't be taking any more clients today. The dead woman coming out of the bathroom in a moment is to blame."
I locked myself in my office. I didn't know what to do. No one had ever commited suicide before, but who's to say it won't happen again?
Is it my fault? Would she really not have killed herself if I had given her husband one more day? Maybe I shouldn't have given her one at all.
Every second day I refuse is a pain. But if I start giving out second days then everyone will want one. I could lose a week of my life in a single day.
I miss my mother. She always knew what to do. Maybe I should go visit her. If anyone deserves another day, it's her.
I went to the graveyard. On my way to her grave I saw the boy, crying next to his mothers grave.
I came to him and asked him
"It's hard, isn't it?"
Thanks for reading!
|
I believe in second chances.
From beyond the gravestones and the coffins, it is my daily duty. My life's work. I became so powerful not just to commune with the dead for fun. I believe that even the most hardened of us deserve the chance to look back, and wave goodbye.
Another client. Though I take no payment. It's abhorrent to put family behind a paywall. Everyone deserves that chance, after all. Some make a big fuss out of it, some just wave, trying to act cold on the outside whilst crying on the inside. Too many times had I been forced to turn my head from reunion. I can't be seen as weak, after all. No one would seek my help. But today's client...belongs to none of those categories. My client is someone unexpected. And my tears are ready to flow.
At last, I see them. My client approaches, his spectral arms nearly touching his family in life. I can see his wife, a sobbing mess, and his father, a tough façade concealing his inner brittleness. I smile, a weak smile, as he looks at them. He loved them in life. That I could tell from his eyes, which betrayed the longing and regret he felt. A last touch, a last farewell. Goodbyes are too short to suffice, as a final hug is left imprinted in everyone's minds. The memories of life begin to fade with death, but from the tomb, even the dead must speak for themselves. Their bodies may fade, but their spirits never will. As long as they can say their last words, to tell their family how much they hated life, to tell their family why they took the noose and...I shudder, as the warmth of the reunion ends in a split second. Time is up. I look at my family one last time, tears already flowing down my face. For both the living and the dead today, there will be sadness and grief. But past the rainy day comes a new awakening.
"Goodbye," I say, my spectral hand waving for its final farewell. Adieu.
| 2017-09-08T09:30:11 | 2017-09-08T04:30:41 | 22 | 13 |
[WP]Your guardian angel hates you. But they still have to do their job...technically...
Why don't we add a twist. For one willing to write with more constraint, the angel has a very very good reason to hate you.
|
“Good morning, Cassiel.”
“You can go fuck yourself.”
“Man, I haven’t even poured my coffee yet.”
“Your mother is rotting in hell.”
“I mean, you of all people would know.”
I really hate Monday mornings. I poured myself a cup of coffee and set it down on the table to cool as I made myself breakfast: microwaved pizza.
“Fat fucking slob.”
“Mmmhmm.”
Cassiel sat on the table glaring at me. Man, that guy just did not blink. Like ever. I don’t think that’s an angel thing either, his eyes were always so bloodshot.
Cassiel is my guardian angel, by the way. I’m the only one who can see him and he’s sworn to God himself to protect me from harm. He also really doesn’t like me. I’m not entirely sure why, but it’s whatever. I just think it’s pretty neat that God wants to protect me for some reason.
“Hey Cassie, we’re going to the city today to pick up some groceries. How’s that sound?”
“Get a job, you freeloading piece of shit. Worthless fucking pig.”
“Yeah, it sounds peachy to me too. Hopefully that pretty girl will be working the register today.”
“I hope she calls you human garbage and spits in your face.”
“God, I could only hope she’s that kinky.”
I took a sip of coffee as the vein in Cassiel’s forehead got even bigger.
***
I drive a piece of shit, 1993 Ford F-150. It’s old, grumbly, and not very reliable, but I love it. I hopped in my truck, cracked the window (yeah, I had roll it down, no fancy-ass features for me), lit a cigarette, and cranked the engine. Cassiel sat in the passenger seat, glaring at me.
“Yeah, I know these things will kill me, no need to preach.”
Cassiel just sat there in sullen silence.
“Oh right, you’re protecting me. So, no lung cancer, right?”
Silence.
“Praise God, it’s going to be a wonderful day.”
I shifted into drive and pulled out of my apartment complex. I tuned the radio to my favorite station – an alt rock, top 100 hits something or another. I had enough time to finish my smoke before we reached the grocery store. Cassiel just glared at me the whole ride.
I parked and we walked inside. Well, Cassiel kinda hovered, I guess. I picked up a cart and we started shopping.
“You think I should go with the 1% or 2% milk, Cassie?”
“I hope you die friendless and the buzzards feed on your corpse.”
“Like, I don’t even really know what the percentages represent. Fat content? Fat content, right?”
“This world would have been better off if your father had spilled the seed from which you came into the mouth of a cheap whore.”
“Is just one percent even that big of a difference?”
“I fucking hate you so much.”
“I’m going to get you some eye drops, bud. Your peepers don’t look that good.”
After we finished getting everything for the apartment, I rolled the cart over to the checkout line.
“Ooh, Cass, look, the pretty girl is working. Think I should talk to her?”
“The only good you’ll ever do is provide a home for maggots.”
“Yeah, confidence is key. Thanks, bud.”
I waited in line until it was my turn to check out and started placing my items on the… the fuck is that thing called? The checkout table? You know, the thing you put your shit on and then the cashier presses a button and it top bit moves towards them. I have no idea what the fuck it’s called.
Anyway, I put my shit on that and attempted small talk.
“Morning!”
The pretty girl glanced up at me. God, I love red hair and freckles. They’re so cute.
“Good afternoon.”
“Been pretty busy?”
“No, most people are at work this time of day. Not too busy.”
“Fuck yeah.”
I’d like to say I’m pretty good at small talk.
“You’re an idiot that should have died in the womb,” Cassiel said from behind me.
“Thanks Cassie.”
The girl looked up again. “Umm, my name’s Brittney, not Cassie. And thanks for what?”
“Thanks for what?”
“What?”
Suddenly, I heard a crash of broken glass and a man shouted, “EVERYONE DOWN ON THE FUCKING GROUND!”
There was a rain of automatic fire and bits of ceiling tile fell to the ground. A man was walking towards us. He was wearing a black ski mask, a wife beater, and raggy looking jeans. He was also carrying an ugly black gun.
Brittney screamed and dropped to the floor. I was less concerned.
“Hey Cassie, look. I think the store’s getting robbed.”
“I love how you state the obvious with such a sense of discovery. You fucking tool.”
The robber pointed the gun at me. “GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND, FUCK FACE.”
“You are a fuck face,” Cassiel muttered.
“I’m good, thanks,” I said to the robber.
“Are you crazy?!” Brittney screamed from the floor. “Get on the ground or he’ll kill you!”
“No, seriously, it’s cool. I have a guardian an- “
***
I woke up later in the back of an ambulance. I had that mask thing on and I was hella drowsy. People still say hella, right? Is that cool? I think it’s cool.
“Oh shit, he’s up. Hey Jake, he’s awake.”
“God be praised. Sir, you just survived eight gunshot wounds to the chest. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I don’t think even one of your vitals was hit. It’s a goddamn miracle.”
I spotted Cassiel in the corner of the ambulance, glaring. Classic Cassiel. It took a lot of effort, but I managed to give him a thumb’s up.
“Not dead. I’ll take it, Cassie,” I said with as much a smile I could muster.
“Everyone who ever loved you was wrong.”
|
Never EVER ever ever ever date your guardian angel. Trust me it does not go well. I don't know why I was given the crazy one who decided to reveal herself to me. And I don't know why in Hell there wasn't a form to get reassigned.
We broke up after dating for a tumultuous four months. I don't even understand how you can get attached that quickly with such ferocity. There was that one time where she flew me up to the top of a high rise in New York and we sat perched on the brick ledge watching the night. We had our first kiss that night, man you should kiss an angel sometime it is out of this world.
Anyways, back to what I meant to start saying. Mary now just makes my life miserable. Today it was absolutely pouring, the kind of rain that comes at you sideways. I was rushing to make the crosswalk, all I did was look up and make sure that little dude was inside the crossing indicator. This asshat in a slammed Toyota went straight through the red and was on track to take me out. "Thankfully" Mary decided to actually do her job and save me. She did this by pushing me back and to the left, straight into the muddiest grossest puddle in all of New York. No amount of showers could get the smell of piss, stale cigarettes and mildewy newspaper off of me.
This was not the first time she did her job less than enthusiastically. A few weeks after we broke up I walked my Dalmatian through a less than safe neighborhood when a small firefight broke out. I heard some yelling about "dope" and "my bitch" and then shots started ringing out. I guess a bullet was on path to my head cause Mary stepped in and directed the .12 straight into my helpless Spot.
After that incident I did something I had never done before, pray. I prayed to God to give me a new guardian angel. I told him that if he could do me that one favor I would go to church, hell I would even become a priest. I'm still waiting for him to get back to me.
At this point I'm afraid to leave my house. I don't to put myself in danger, thus putting anything I love in danger. God, she is a creative bitch I'll tell you that much. The stuff that she thinks of to subject me to should make her the fucking Devil... oh my god that's brilliant! Screw this praying to God stuff, I 'm gonna pray to the Devil. If I can convince him to take her on as assistant I would be home free. I'll take my chances without a guardian angel, just get her away from me. I'll be back, I have some praying to do.
| 2017-02-23T19:32:52 | 2017-02-23T18:05:48 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] Lycanthropy has spread across the globe and fused with human dna over time. This caused the human race to split up into several warring factions of were-people with werewolves, werebears and werecats being the majorities. For some unknown reason, you are the world's first "were___."
|
The day after the full moon was always chaos. Even though every one in a thousand humans and rising were now some form of therianthrope they still had their own minds when transformed so of course they could be civilized, but was indeed some form of conflict between species.
As I walked down the street I could see a pack of werewolves and a pride of werelions soothing their fast-healing wounds from their latest bust-up, drinking water in a silence only punctuated by a deep-seething hatred for each other. Werebears, however, detested company so they had already headed to different cafés around town to rest up. Hell, if therianthropes had to turn under the full moon's light why not get the tension out of themselves for another month.
There were, of course, bodybags. The police cordoned off the areas for these little fights and made them pay-per-stream on the internet as a form of revenue boost but some college idiots always prefer to see the carnage up close despite the fact that these three species were known to occasionally lose control of their actions when in a frenzy. Hopefully they can stitch the poor kids back together.
Nonetheless, I had other things to do. For one thing, I had to confirm that after my ex-girlfriend bit me out of spite that I had indeed become a therioanthrope after going to the doctor after testing positive. But even as I walked down the street people could suspect something was wrong. Or else, rather strange.
You see, it isn't strange for a human's mind or body to be affected by their infection. Wolves were often lean and muscular and rather confrontational to those outside their pack. Lionesses gravitated towards the strongest male and were lean while their male was rather fat and lazy... until he transformed at least and he would breed with his lionesses after his own hunt. Bears were tall, muscular and fat and preferred solidarity over being around others.
And sadly, the most common breeds of therianthropes were also the most anti-social. I personally prefer the wereorcas who were always friendly to others, easily capable of throwing even a transformed werebear about if they felt threatened in their untransformed state or even a wereraccoon, somewhat small and curious if known for pilfering others' food. Even werefoxes, oddballs that they were if they weren't being sly little bastards, were at least willing to talk to people.
Then there was that little voice in everyone's head, their own personal beast. It slowly changed them, corrupted their minds into following their breed's mentality. My beast was oddly soothing, encouraging even and willing to tell me forbidden things such as fate. Helped get an enormous lottery jackpot, then encouraged me to travel to Las Vegas. Perhaps the expensive clothing I had purchased was the giveaway to those who recognized me. Previously my clothing was falling apart at the seams!
No, there were other things. I was taller than most people now, rather fit and muscular under my clothing. My face was somewhat different as well, a strong squared face compared to my previous round features.
But, alas, everyone who had theriomorphus or lycanthropy had to register, it was the law. And that meant heading into the government offices and waiting in a large room with other people, waiting to talk about forms and paying fines and help with paying for an unexpected funeral. Somewhat maddening, the bureaucracy of the United Kingdom's tax and revenue office.
Oddly, the beast didn't seem to mind having to sit on an uncomfortable metal chair for an hour, instead content to listen to the lyric-less 80's music on the speakers. I, however, did enjoy the strange attraction people were feeling towards me, like I was some leader or king.
Soon it was my turn to leave the main waiting area and walk to some bored woman who had to reject a man's latest attempts to claim government aid on a 4K TV as a "Living Necessity Expense". I could feel some sympathy for her.
But as I went to sit down and speak to her, an angry man pushed me aside and began cursing profanities. 'Why'd you cut off my dole?!' this and, 'Give me my money!' that.
'Sir, your Jobseeker's Allowance was cut off because you failed to properly declare how you were looking for work,' the woman answered. 'It will be reinstated after six months.'
'I ain't waiting six bloody months!' he screamed. 'I want my money *now*!'
With a swift punch he shattered the glass divider between the general area and the office clerk's side. It didn't break apart, just created a spider web of cracks. 'Sir, I am calling the police!' she yelled as she picked up the phone.
'Call them!' the agitated man yelled. 'I'll fucking batter them, then you, you disgusting little thief!'
The beast was whispering into my mind. *We are strong and powerful, far grander in scale than this little trollop of a man. Who is he to inspire fear in the hearts of those and demand what is not his for the taking? No... Let us show him was fear truly is, shall we?*
'Hey,' I said calmly as he tried to kick the glass shield apart from atop the chair.
'The fuck do you want?' he yelled, turning towards me and ready to strike me. Well, if he didn't suddenly feel something wrap around his throat like a noose and was lifted from the ground, that is.
I began to show my bestial side. Not outright transforming, that would only cause more harm than good. No, my head was no longer human, my hands twisted about into claws. Of course, the tail which was now taking the life out of him and gently caressing his face as I lifted him closer to me.
'The rules are very clear,' I began to lecture him, my voice no longer mine, but a deep and powerful voice which seemed to command even the air within the room. 'You don't follow the rules, your dole money is taken away. You broke the rules of your agreement with the tax and revenue office and you were punished accordingly. Now, are you going to behave? Or, per the law regarding self-defense of a third party which includes everyone here... Do I have to get *violent*?'
There was no answer from him, only desperate kicks and punches in the air.
I dropped him down, letting him gasp for breath before flicking my finger at him. Tape suddenly began wrapping around him, the room briefly filling with his screams before his mouth was covered. 'Have you called the police?' I asked the woman on the other side of the counter.'
'Y-yes,' she said.
'Good,' I told her as I corrected the seat before sitting down. 'Can I have the form CJ-82, please? I am required by law to register as a weredragon.'
|
There was a time when lycanthropy was the stuff of legends; something most people laughed at. Now, we laugh at them. Ordinary humans, frail and disillusioned with grandeur.
The world has changed. What was first thought of as a freak occurance turned out to be commonplace condition within a few years. In time, the world was full of lycans. The most common mutations were werewolves, werebears and werecats. This fusion of DNA gave them the abilities of the animals and enhanced the human experience by far.
Alas, humans were animals even before lycanthropy kicked in. Small clashes over ego blew out of proportion and turned into all out wars for territory and supremacy. The feral instincts kicked in and within no time, the world was engulfed in turmoil. If it was one thing that we humans were good at, it was hating people who are different. That was what these wars were all about.
More than hate, it was the inability of man to be content that kept the fighting going. The wolves envied the raw strength that the bears possessed. The bears craved the brotherhood that the wolves had. Meanwhile the cats wanted to prove that they were the kings of a world that was on the verge of destruction. The wolves and the cats hated each other on principle and were the prime cause for all this chaos.
In this grotesque world, amidst these majestic creatures, I was born. The world's first were-sloth. There was no explanation for why I was like this. But nobody wanted any explanation. Like I said, people were good at hating others who were different. I was an outsider, shunned by the general populace. Fitting in was too much of a hassle. I was born as a lazy creature and I wasn't going to do anything to change that. It was just too much work. Amidst all their baseless hate and abuse, I learn something. I was tough. The wolves and the cats couldn't physically hurt me in one on one situations. It was because I had a thick skin, literally. So, they started giving me greif by ganging up on me.
I hated everyone and everything in this world, but I couldn't do anything about it. Even if I could, I didn't want to. All this changed when a group of outcasts found me. The nomadic were-elephants found me as I was recovering from a cat attack. They took me in and shared their purpose with me. I learnt of the safe haven that the werebulls had built somewhere in the jungle that Asia became.
Now that's what my life has become. Over time, we were joined by a few more misfits- a family of weredonkeys and a werecat that was excommunicated due to bearing resemblance to a house cat. We do our best to avoid the pockets of war and keep moving towards our destination. Despite all these hardships, the toughest things that the group has to do is to make me move. It may be a world busy with war, but a sloth is a sloth, lycanthropy or not.
| 2017-06-15T05:01:21 | 2017-06-15T05:00:44 | 111 | 30 |
[WP] In what seems like a cruel prank by a bored God, people started developing powers based on their worst fears. people afraid of heights got the gift of flight. arachnophobia? get the power of spiders. phasmophobia? necromancy/ability to speak with the dead. Your power is... hard to explain...
|
I can still remember that night, many years ago. My mother and father, sitting behind me on the couch. Me and my sister, sitting on the floor. The dark glow of the TV kept the living room dark and foreboding, matched by the menace and malice onscreen.
My parents had said that the director of this film was a genius. That he had apparently filmed another movie years prior, about a boy who could speak with ghosts, and another about an invincible man who could only die by drowning. And while my parents were entranced by his newest film’s religious and family messaging, the only thing I could focus on was the monsters.
Horrible. Wrong. Watching.
Just the shape, just the outline of the beings was enough to make me sweat. Every night after seeing the film, my eyes stayed trained on the rooftops, down dark alleys, ready to spot the demons in the dark. I was sure that they were out there, waiting for me, watching me just as they had watched the preacher man’s family.
My parents told me they weren’t real. They only existed in movies.
Two decades later, the General standing behind me said the opposite.
“Son, I don’t give a damn about your hang-ups. It’s only you. We’ve asked Mightyman, the Avenging Witch, and even the Saturnian, and nobody else can do this. Their minds are too alien even for our local extraterrestrial heroes.”
“That’s what I’m saying…” But even to me, my protestations fall flat. He’s right. I am the only one who can do this.
Across from me and the General, separated from us by a thick pane of glass, sat the being. It stared back at me, only at me, ignoring the General behind me as if he wasn’t there.
Why were it’s eyes so big…?
I close my eyes. I wish more than anything that someone like Mightyman was in my place. Someone with bravery, someone else who could face thing on its own level.
But the being never answered Mightyman. It never answered the alien Saturnian. It never answered anybody.
Not verbally.
But the noise is always there.
I had started noticing the noise when I was 16 years old, same age as anybody else getting their powers for the first time. Only unlike some lucky heroes, whose powers sometimes helped them overcome their fears, mine only brought my fears home.
Hellseesyoudeepnessdarknessallweaskallatrestwithfinallity
The noise comes all at once. It’s an hour-long rumination formed in an instant, a hateful dissertation and cruel thesis slammed into my head with the roughness and force of a car crash, all with the wonderful aftertaste of tinnitus.
Wehaveseenintothedeadmultiversesvoidoflifevoidofbeingallcoldanddeadnorulestobringlifeintoexistance
Xenopathy. Not flight, not superstrength, not teleportation, not shapeshifting or even the ability to speak to animals. Xenopathy.
The noise started when I was 16. That was when I “heard” them for the first time. Perhaps “heard” is the wrong word, but it’s the closest thing our minds have to the experience. It was deafening. The sounds of trillions of minds, engaged with one another on a galactic scale.
For weeks I struggled, feeling like I’d lost my mind. There was no reference to make sense of the thoughts, no understanding of what was happening to me. All I had was flashes of thoughts too great and powerful for me to understand.
And in my panic, I reached back out to the noise. It was a flailing, desperate plea for silence.
A plea horrifyingly answered.
The noise vanished, all at once. A trillion voices, all communicating with one another, all in sync with one another. A hivemind of unified brains, all in contact with one another. One I had unknowingly and suddenly breached.
And in that moment, as the noise went silent, I felt a trillion pairs of black almond eyes fixed on me through space and time.
The being sat, unperturbed. It stared back at me from the other side of the glass. Those long arms and legs, still. Its pale skin, waiting. The horrible almond-shaped eyes, watching.
Watching me.
Since that day, they had always watched me. From the rooftops. From the alleys.
From beside my bed.
Lanky, stalking shadows in the dead of night. Come from all across the universe.
Toliveistogoagainsttherulesofallmultiversesandspitesthecoldtruelogicofunchangingdeathwhichisourtrueendyourpeopleevadeoursightnolonger
The General hoped that I could communicate with the beings. That I could be an ambassador for the Human race where others could not.
Lifeisanabominationmeanttobeendedandthattimecomessoon
Some days, I wish it were all just noise.
|
Context: I’m scared of silence.
////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
He just kept on talking. I mean I talk a lot too, but gosh this is a bit much. God can’t you just shut up…” I mumble under my breath.
It wasn’t supposed to work.
But it did.
He stopped talking. His mouth just…… stopped working. He kept yelling, I could see it. But I couldn’t hear it. “Cole?!” I screamed. He didn’t know what happened. I didn’t know what happened.
Or did I.
…
Did I do that?
“Talk……?” I mumble.
It didn’t work.
“Speak?” I mutter.
Didn’t work.
I tried other various synonyms, but nothing worked.
Suddenly, I heard a voice. A woman’s voice, angelic and soft. A voice I dubbed as Athena. It sounds dumb, I know. But still.
“What your looking for is, Open. Use your power wisely.” She whispered.
Open?
“Open……….?” I whisper.
It worked.
What do I do now……?
“-ELP ME OH MY GOD!” Cole screamed.
….
….It worked.
“What happened?!” I screamed.
Thank god I was a theatre kid.
Cause this took some acting.
“I- I don’t know!” He yelled.
We both sat in silence for a while.
“I’m gonna go…” I declare, forming an idea, “See ya later Cole…”
“B- bye (dead name)…” He responded.
“…..Shut up.” I whisper as I walk away.
It worked.
He never talked again.
| 2022-05-14T21:01:09 | 2022-05-14T19:30:24 | 22 | 12 |
[WP] You wake up in the 1400's dark ages, with nothing but the clothes on your back and your knowledge. The only way you get back to the present, is by surviving until your time period. You dont age until you reach the moment you were sent back.
|
At first I thought I had woken up in a weird dream. Who wouldn't think they had woken up in a weird dream?
But this... place smelled utterly foreign to me and you don't smell in dreams anyways. My head aches horribly, heads don't ache in dreams. And the accents! Wow, but at least it's English. Those quickly dispelled the idea that maybe I just was having a very vivid dream inspired by being at the Great Western War. As I wandered the town it became very clear that no, I was not in a dream or at some form of a reenactment event.
So many weird looks. No one was shouting or running away from me, so I must be not sticking out like a total sore thumb.
Oh right, I last remember being at GWW 2018. I'm wearing my garb. It's a 1480's Italian Gamurra and Giornea. Maybe my clothes aren't too far off from the time period. The women here... their outer kirtles are rather sleek with waist seams, but I don't see any pleats.
Is it possible? English speaking, front lacing, minimal ornamentation, snug gowns with waist seams? Sweeeet, it looks like it's somewhere between 1470s and 1490s England. I've probably missed the Black Death!
What am I doing here though? How did I get here? This has to be a dream right? But it's not... I can smell the town (ick) and feel walls of these small thatch houses.
Where is everyone I know? My boyfriend? My cat? What about the rest of my family? Are they okay? Do they even exist? What about me? Do I exist?
Wait, some lady is walking over here. What is she saying? Damn it, over 500 years of language shifting sure does make it hard to understand her. Wait, she's asking me if I'm okay? Maybe... Maybe I can convince her I'm an Italian traveler who has gotten lost! She could help!
Yes, yes, she seems to be buying it! She's offered her hospitality. Maybe I've managed to make a friend!
\_\_\_1 week later\_\_\_
It appears I did indeed land in England in 1483! Well Shit, the War of the Roses is going still going on. My hostess and her family are moderately well off and she's happy to keep helping me figure out what happened. Though, as far as she knows I'm from Italy and know my name, but I have no memories of who my family are or how I ended up alone on the outskirts of Coventry.
While I learned how to use a drop spindle back in 2018 (and was pretty good at it) I'm a novice compared to my hostess and her daughter. And my lack of knowledge concerning the Catholic faith is causing some road blocks... but they seem to be at least willing to believe it's all related to the head injury. At least they don't think I'm a witch! I'm contributing how I can to the household, as I don't want my hosts to resent my presence.
They were kind enough to alter a gown and kirtle to fit me. So now I have one warmer outfit in addition to my linen gamurra, camicia, and giornea.
\_\_\_1 year later\_\_\_
I've managed to learn how to fake being Catholic. I've gotten way better at spinning. And my hosts have basically adopted me. To the point where they are actively looking to find a husband for me. I'm not a total idiot, they are looking to forge ties with other important families in the area, but they are also trying to make sure I'll like my future husband. I'm not sure I'll have much choice but accept a marriage. Women don't have many rights here. As cliché and stupid as it may sound, a good marriage might be my only chance at having a decent life in this time.
\_\_5 years later\_\_
Henry Tudor, King Henry VII is now on the throne. I wonder what he's like. I've read what he's like from history book in the future, and heard the gossip on the streets. My hosts were successful in finding me a decent marriage. I've now had 2 children. How is that going to work? Am I changing the course of history by having these children? Were these children always meant to be? Will they inexplicably time travel as well?
I've learned how to spin and weave and take care of all household tasks nearly as well as a native 1489 woman. No one would look at me now and think I'm out of place. But these memories of the future... they keep me from feeling fully present. To never see my loved ones again, every day hurts.
\_\_\_10 years later\_\_\_
I've now been here for 16 years and it is 1499. The renaissance has started in Italy. I wonder if I'll live long enough to see it. My second child died before she reached her 10th birthday. My fourth died shortly after birth. It really brought home how easy it is for people to die in this time. Infections, illness, I'm just lucky I have not succumbed to any.
\_\_\_Another 10 years\_\_\_
It is May of 1509. King Henry VIII has started his reign! Oh boy are these people going to have an interesting life with him as a monarch. At this point I have been here for 26 years. About 5 years ago I realized I had not aged a day since I got here. That is a problem.
People now believe in witches and will kill them. I cannot be seen as a witch. If I am not aging, perhaps I'll live long enough to get into the renaissance and see some amazing things happen. But I could not do it in Coventry. I spent a couple years quietly learning to read and write in Italian, Latin, and Spanish. I squirreled away quite a bit of money, and managed to leave before anyone realized I had gone. It hurt, and still hurts to have left my children. But with accusations of witchcraft you can be guilty by association, those accusations would have happened eventually. Anyways, they are mostly grown, with my eldest already married. They will be okay.
I'm headed to Italy.
|
A quick geographical analysis doesn’t yield much. Forest, mountains, and more forest.
I would guess that is is about 5 AM, since it’s early morning in midsummer.
My clothes, absent. Along with everything that I was carrying.
In summary, I’m dead.
The obvious objectives now, are not dying, after that working out where in the world I am, and how I got there.
I walk.
I continue to walk.
Occasionally I hear things, I swear it was a wolf pack howling.
I carry on.
And I find a castle, just visible, further up the valley.
As I come closer to it, I begin to notice several oddities.
I would expect a castle, so deep in seemingly empty forest and mountains, to be ruined; the stones weathered, covered in lichens and mosses.
It is the exact opposite. It’s almost as the stones were cut from the rock only yesterday.
I walk, though it is approaching midday, I am beginning to become hungry and thirsty, and my feet are sour after such a long walk barefoot over the forest floor.
It has become apparent that, from a distance, I greatly underestimated the size of the fortifications. Even though there is still no human life or civilisation in sight.
I have entered the castle, and only impeded by the castle’s own structure, deliberately intended to dissuade the intruder.
Of all the things that I did not expect, it was the beautifully painted walls and ceilings, far removed from the blocks of grey I was familiar with.
I found a chapel, Christian, specifically, though I don’t know which denomination. Catholic maybe?
That said, it confirms my suspicion that we are in Europe.
— — — —
It has been several weeks, I have managed to procure water, fresh and clear, from the small river. Food, by some simple traps my father showed me as a child.
I have still not encountered any other humans, this area seems extremely remote.
My belief of wolves has also been confirmed, thankfully however, my suspicions were confirmed from a safe distance.
— — — —
Still no people. While I am not especially social, it is too little, and I’m beginning to become paranoid. Scared of every twig snapping, every crunch of leaf under foot, as autumn sets.
Otherwise, my position has greatly improved, I have assembled basic garments, as the weather becomes sufficiently cool to demand them.
— — — —
I swear I saw another person. I swear, but I have not seen them since that first potential glimpse.
Of the few things I did find left in the castle that has become my home, was a large quantity of salt. I can start to think about preserving food for stockpile. I have already began to experiment, I have managed to prolong the life of the meats I have been eating, how effectively I will be able to extend this is uncertain.
While I have little doubt of my survival, I would guess this area will become largely impassable as winter sets in. It all but ensures there will be no more people for months.
| 2018-08-17T17:59:28 | 2018-08-17T17:45:22 | 99 | 57 |
[WP] Your king is objectively, unredeemably evil, so as his advicer you have to try your hardest to make good, helpful changes to your country sound like they're evil or harmful in some way.
|
“Vincent!” the maddening shout echoed off the drab gray stone walls of the throne room. Servants in the nearby hallways rushed into their tucked-away passages not wanting to take the chance of being caught in the king’s crosshairs.
A single man draped in the colors of the kingdom— red, black, and green. The dark green pleated robe accented in black trimmings and gold embroidery marking him a royal advisor strutted confidently into the throne room.
“Yes, my King?”
“Ah, Vincent, there you are. It has just occurred to me that my subjects do not respect me as much as they should.”
“Your highness, I can assure you they can feel your overwhelming benevolence.”
“Yes, well nonetheless, I feel I must remind them who their true sovereign is. Your last advice was truly inspired and I will have you help me devise a new hardship that will truly trump your crop rotation idea.”
The slight man bowed, schooling his expression into emotionless apathy. “I am not worthy of such compliments. M’lord. I merely obliged by suggesting it would make growing crops harder for the farms and less likely to have time to complain if they instead had to rotate them every season to keep them busier.”
The king turned up his nose with a smirk. “Pish posh.” He waved his hand as if to ward off bad karma. “You may be correct, but my father taught me that even competence should be rewarded. And considering there hasn’t been much competence lately your service stands out.” Vincent bowed even further without saying anything further.
He waited the appropriate amount of time before he stood straight once again. “Were you looking for respect from a particular group or more just from the population in general?” He knew how to word the questions to get the answer he wanted from his king. He would always go with the option that included more people.
“The general population should exalt me more. Yes, the whole of them.” Vincent could practically see the glinting in the King’s eyes.
“Hmm, I might have some thoughts, but may I ask your highness a few questions?”
“I will permit it.”
“Thank you, m’lord. A while back we discussed divine right and how you were chosen by God to rule. So it stands to reason that everyone else that works in the kingdom was ordained by God to work that job?”
“That makes perfect sense as there are things that need to be done and it is not like anyone would choose to be a latrine cleaner. Obviously, God has chosen that job for them.”
“Reasonably so, m’lord. Would you say your job as king is most enjoyable?”
“Obviously. How could I not enjoy a job chosen just for me by the almighty himself?”
“Of course, I just wanted to make sure I understood the King’s stance on the issue. Would you say that your job as our monarch is a full day’s job?”
“All day and all night. I particularly enjoy fulfilling my kingly duties at night, if you know what I mean.” The rotund king conspicuously winked at Vincent.
“Without a doubt. You would say you work all day every day a week at a job you enjoy because God himself ordained it so?”
“Ohhh, I think I see where you’re going with this. You think I should demand everyone work their jobs as long as I work mine?”
“Just the opposite, my king. Why should everyone have as much enjoyment all day as their king.” Vincent knew he had walked the King right where he wanted him. “What if you were to limit the amount of time they worked at their job throughout the week? They would not be able to derive as much enjoyment as you do. It would truly trouble the people and it will show them that you demand their respect lest you limit their joy-filled jobs even more.”
“Vincent, are you sure you’re not part devil? Your suggestion seems diabolical. I like it. Obviously, we can’t just make them stop working entirely. Even I am aware that the jobs need to be completed and who am I to better than the almighty himself.” Vincent was amazed, even he could put God above himself.
“What if they performed their divine tasks five days a week and only during the daytime?”
“I like it. They honor their commitment to God, but they are limited in the amount of joy they feel so they aren’t on the same level as their King.”
“Truly m’lord, you are able to see beyond the veil of ignorance and see the grand scheme of the world and the divine plan.”
“Naturally, I was born to rule.”
> Author's Note: I tried to work on two distinctive voices for dialogue for this little exercise. Hope you enjoyed reading it.
|
"Think about it my Lord!" I begged him, desperate now. "Do livestock understand their purpose? To be mercilessly slaughtered?"
The King settled back in his throne, pondering my words. This was a good sign, I had to press!
"The chickens, their eggs are taken from them every morning! They do not care! The sheep blindly follow the ones in front of them, not knowing they walk into their slaughterhouse! Consider how they might react in *fear* if they only knew!"
The Kings lips curled upwards, a familiar gleam in his eye. "Steward, I have had a wonderful idea. I am going to educate the worthless masses! May they learn of my misdeeds! May they learn of my evil, and may they recognize their hopelessness! May they respect and revere the name with awe of their King! SoCall Medeea!"
| 2022-10-07T17:08:12 | 2022-10-07T11:13:30 | 92 | 49 |
[WP] At age 18 each person meets their soul-mate. For centuries everyone has fallen in love with theirs. You're the first person to not love yours.
|
The day I turned 18 was the first day of the rest of my life.
My birthday is late in the year, October to be precise. My mother always said that I would meet someone truly great since I had to wait longer then most. My family threw me a huge party to celebrate, like every family did. They invited everyone we knew, acquaintances, my friends and their friends. I felt nervous, anxious and excited all at once. This was the day everyone talked about and dreamed of.
It snowed that day, sometimes it would snow on my birthday. I love watching the snow fall, it was my favourite birthday gift. I was concerned this year though. What if my soul-mate couldn’t make it due to the snow? What a crazy thought though, of course he will come, he is my soul-mate.
My father had invited Albert, a boy I had known for as long as our families had known each other. He was perfect in every sense of the word, an ideal match for a mate. He said all of the right things at the right time almost scripted and practised. I found him boring and uninteresting, no ambitions other then the pursuit of me.
After I blew out the 18 candles, I made a wish for my soul-mate to be everything that I had always dreamed of. I knew Albert wasn’t the soul-mate I was destined for, even if my parents thought so. I went along with the party, hoping that maybe he would appear at midnight or before the day ended and the process would be complete.
When I went to sleep that night, I didn’t feel like I fit in anymore. Was I the only person in the world to not love their soul-mate? Was I destined to be unhappy but with a mate regardless? I felt so different from everyone and everything that I knew. So alone. I couldn't understand why I was the ONLY person I knew without a soul-mate.
The next morning, my mom and I drove into town to buy groceries. It was a quiet drive. As the snow continued to fall, we passed time with charming small talk about the party and Albert. I said what I knew she wanted to hear, even though the words were barely honest or confident. While she shopped I went off to walk around the store. Aimlessly, I started watching the local soul-mates in all their glory. They intrigued me, made me wonder what it was about me that was so different from them. So very un-soul-mate material.
Everyone in the store was in a different world, a dreamland of happiness not paying any attention to me. I watched them for a while, trying to understand how to play that role and act like them.
I felt this cold gust behind me and a voice I didn’t recognize. "What are you doing?”, she asked me. Confused and curious, I whirled around to see who was talking to me, as I did I muttered, “nothing..” under my breath.
A stranger. A person I had never met was standing there curious of me.
I couldn’t move, so I stared at her. She was beautiful. Her eyes were pale blue, hair icy as snow and skin bright red from the cold. She reminded me of snowfall.
“Nothing?” she said with her head tilted to the side and smirk on her face. “Why are you hiding here watching people?”. I didn’t know what to say, how could I tell her what I was really doing, even if she was genuinely curious.
I kept staring at her, trying to decide if she was more curious of me then I was of her.
“Allara…” She said as she pulled out her hand from her coat to shake mine, “…that’s my name, what is yours?” I looked at her hand for what felt like a while and said, “Madison, my name is Madison”. She smiled, dimples starting to show, as she took my hand in hers and shook it anyway. Her hands were cold, soft and small. “It is nice to meet you…” she said still smiling, “...my family moved here yesterday, does it always snow in October?”
I smiled, what an unusual person I thought, “it usually snows around on my birthday but it won’t again until the end of November”. “Your birthday!” She smiled and laughed. “Happy Birthday! It never snows in October where I am from, I can’t say I am used to it”, laughing even more which made me laugh too.
“How old are you now?” she asked. “As of yesterday, I am 18”, I responded cautiously anticipating the follow up questions. “Me too!” she yelled. “18 is the best, I can’t wait to move out and start a life of my own.”
I was confused, did she have her soul-mate already? Doesn’t she know about the tradition? How are her parents okay with that? Who is this person and where did she come from? Why was she talking to me? Is there something on my face?
Mom had finished shopping at this point and found me hiding in the Dairy isle with Allara. “Madison, I’m all done, time to go” she said as she approached. “Okay mom, I am coming.” still staring at Allara. “Who is your friend?” she asked moving closer, but before I could even open my mouth, she responded, “Hi! I’m Allara, my family just moved here yesterday”. They shook hands and we started to leave the store.
Allara walked with us, talking to mom about her parents, where they moved to and what they did. Before we parted ways, mom asked Allara for her parents’s phone number. Something about showing them around or becoming friends, I had stopped listening.
After we loaded up the car and were getting ready to leave, mom handed me Allara’s phone number. I was confused and asked, “Why are you giving this to me?” she smiled and told me, “Trust me...”. Still confused, I looked down at Allara’s phone number. Her hand writing was pristine, like it was out of a movie or had been practised a thousand times. “...Madison. There are plenty of men that would love to be your mate. You can go on living like the rest of us or you can start living. In your heart you know the truth.”
I looked at her still confused. She had tears running down her face but she was smiling at me. “Mom?” I asked, trying to understand what she meant. She looked at me with watery eyes and said, “You met your soul-mate today Madison and I am so proud of you”.
|
My mum walked in, her face completely overthrown with a smile. I had never seen her smile so much in her life. She squeezed my arm as she walked to stand behind me, and a big burly man entered the room, my soulmate.
The moment I saw him I felt sick to the pit of my stomach, like all the excitement for this moment had just drained away. He was meant to be the love of my life, that’s just how society works here: assessments every year, making sure we’re completely compatible, but it was clear as soon as I saw him that there had been some mistake. He was so tall and build of so much muscle that I felt like a child next to him. His hair was messy, joining into some rough stubble which trailed down his neck and then cut off above the collar of his jacket.
I had fantasised about this moment for so many years – had known exactly what I would wear, how I would do my hair, where I would stand, and what I wanted to say. Yet in this moment it all just faded away. My mum reached forward and nudged me in the back, urging me to introduce myself as I finally realised his hand was outstretched towards me, and that I must had missed his introduction. I mumbled my own name and went to shake his hand, which tensed around mine until it hurt. I wanted to cry so badly, not from the painful handshake, but the disappointment. This wasn’t meant to happen. Everybody loved their soulmate.
I made my excuses as soon as I could, claiming sudden illness and dragging myself to bed. My mum was so excited about how “incredibly lovely that young man was” and how proud she was that her daughter “will marry a real manly man”, that I couldn’t bear to tell her how much he contrasted to the soulmate I had dreamed of. I dreamt that night of the meeting I had wanted, crying after waking up to find that my imaginary soulmate had gone. I knew that if I did not leave soon, he would ask me to marry him and it would be too late. Most people I knew had gotten engaged within the week of meeting – but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t spend my life with him, it would kill me. So I ran.
I know it was wrong; that I betrayed my family, and I don’t know what will happen if they catch me, but I can be happy now. I ran past the city boundaries, and then cut off from the road and into the wilderness, no idea where I was going; just knowing that I needed to get away. But I was lucky: it wasn’t long until I found the fire pit, and not much later until its owner came back.
Everything changed for me then. Because the moment I saw her I fell in love.
--------------------------------------
Thanks for reading! I'd love some criticism if you have any ideas of things for me to work on as this is my first time posting :)
| 2015-02-21T10:53:59 | 2015-02-21T09:38:01 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] A vampire, due to his/her supernatural abilities, is the greatest spelunker in the world. Leading a team into the deepest recess of a cave system in which nobody has set foot in millenia, the vampire suddenly stops. (S)he needs an invitation.
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Rose gently placed a slender white palm on the rocky walls of the cave and closed her eyes. She focused, channeling all her focus onto the tips of her fingers. She could feel the concentrations of the minerals and ores beneath the surface layer of rock. A byproduct of her frankly inhuman senses. She held for a breath for a moment as she felt a tiny current of air from far beneath the rock. “*Gotcha*,” she murmured, under her breath.
Taking a step back, she gestured to the section of the rock cavern with a casual wave. “Here. Just bust through it, and we should be good.” The team of burly-looking miners grunted in assent and moved to work without a single cry of dissent. She smiled to herself. It hadn’t taken long for her to earn their respect. Her reputation of being the greatest spelunker in the world wasn’t just for show, after all. Her abilities- well, and their drawbacks- lent themselves nicely to the life she’d chosen to lead.
There was her ability to see perfectly in the dark. Her strength and speed made it possible to escape from the most dangerous of situations unscathed, and also made her very handy with a pickaxe if it came right down to it. She could survive for weeks on end with scarcely any food or water. And of course, there was her enhanced senses, the way the darkness reached out like an extension of her own fingertips, allowing her to find sealed off parts of cave systems or rich veins of precious ores. Rose was undeniably the best.
Besides, a life spent underground suited her well. No need to hide under a cloak all the time, darting from shade to shade. No need to stand outside every door, waiting to be invited inside. No one lived in caves anyways. And she’d largely weaned herself off of human blood. The occasional bloody steak was more than enough for her. Perhaps most of all, no need to deal with Kresniks that didn’t *get* that she didn’t hurt humans.
She couldn’t understand why her clan had disapproved so strongly of her choice, and she had the feeling that they didn’t really know why either. It was passed down from generation to generation. “Never head underground. It is not a place for vampires like us.” Nothing more than folklore, some superstition made to keep young vampire children out of caves. She had snorted at the very idea, and scoffed at the suggestion that she was doing something dangerous. It was the *perfect* job for her, and she loved it.
Now, she was leading a team into the deepest section of the Ruby Cave. Despite the name, there were no rubies in sight, but it was legendary nonetheless. Rumour had it that the depths of the cave held treasures beyond human imagination. Half the cave system was sealed off, blocked by dislodged rocks from an earthquake years ago. No one even knew where to start digging, but Rose was different. Slowly but surely, Rose could lead a team to where no one had set foot in a thousand years.
As they burst through the thick section of rock, the tunnel opened up into a more spacious cave. Rose grinned, and took a step into the newly-discovered cavern. Then her whole body tensed up and froze. She couldn’t take another step. She tried again and again, but it was as if she’d run into an invisible barrier. Rose’s eyes widened in shock. Could it be?
She gestured to the miner beside her, who looked deeply confused at their leader’s antics. Was she miming? Rose spoke quickly and gruffly, trying to conceal the panic in her voice. “Drake, you go in first.” The man raised his eyebrows at her, wondering what she was playing at. But he acquiesced, and took a step towards the mouth of the new cavern. Then another, and another, effortlessly gliding through the invisible barrier that had stopped Rose in her tracks.
Rose furrowed her brows, her mind reeling in shock. This was someone’s *home*? She couldn’t enter, not without permission. An unfortunate side-effect of being a vampire, certainly, but not one she had expected to encounter *here*. As she stood there, she heard a loud noise, rocks crashing in the distance, and a warm blast of wind shooting out from the depths of the cave. Something was *stirring*.
A primal fear emerged from the deepest part of her mind. Every cell in her body was screaming ‘*danger*’. Without warning, a roar blasted out from deep within the cave, a roar that sounded monstrous. No, monstrous was an understatement. It sounded... *draconic*.
“WHO DARES INTRUDE ON MY TERRITORY!” a voice bellowed, followed by a loud sniff. “I SMELL HUMANS… AND A VAMPIRE? HAS YOUR RACE FORGOTTEN THE LESSON I TAUGHT THEM ALL THOSE YEARS AGO?”
Rose swallowed hard, and turned around. “What are you waiting for?” she yelled, “Run!”
*I write a story a day [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)*
*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*
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As we came closer and closer to the brooding black entrance of the cave our torch lights struggled to even penetrate the deep disturbing blackness which covered the entire area around us. With my final step I feel a compulsion to stop, the other members of the expedition gather around me. As my brow furrows they look quizically towards me, my renown for always having a sixth sense for danger means that any sign of concern from me indicates something greater.
 
I look towards Gareth in front of me, my right hand man for years now he had never let me down even in tight positions. Once when a boulder had come unlodged and pinned me to a wall he had spent hours digging me out single handedly. He knew me deeply and I knew him, from his newborn child, Quincy, named after me. To his beautiful wife Cecilia who I had known for years. I had been the best man at his wedding and now once more he looked to me as his most trusted advisor.
 
The menacing cave loomed evermore in front of us, the moments I had been standing at their entrance felt like a millenia.
"Turn your lights off," I whisper to everyone.
They comply instantly, sensing the urgency of the situation. Then, my fingers tracing the edges of the once familiar stones surrounding the entrance I call out, "Mother, I'm home!"
 
A loud roar emanates from the deep, a flash of movement, silence.
| 2018-01-16T05:27:47 | 2018-01-16T04:00:53 | 2,297 | 295 |
[WP] You decided to go to the humane society and you get the feeling you have to adopt the lonely cat in the corner. Later that night you are woken by a noise and the cat jumps on your bed and says, “Sorry your highness, but there’s no time to explain, you must follow me.”
Edit: Thanks kind stranger for my first gold ever!
|
*The Kingdom of Skylandia doesn't feel the same without you. We miss you!*
The notification blinks on my phone, reminding me that I haven't logged in for days. I swipe it away to the left. Even the logo in the corner sends a spasm through my lungs. They tighten up. It's hard to breathe. Fuck, I miss her so much.
When I boot up my computer for work, I catch myself hovering the cursor over the Steam icon. It would be so easy to launch the game. To log in, reconnect with my Guild, see how everyone is doing. But then I'd see my message history. I'd see the little gifts we used to send each other: 50 SkyCoins here, a Valentine's Day rose there, little flags for Skylandia Independence Day that she'd sent out to everyone because she thought it was cute.
It's been three months since I got the email informing me that Julia Steadman, aka Princess Azula of the Willow Guard, Defenders of Skylandia, had passed away due to complications of leukemia.
How do you grieve someone you've never met? I have so many memories of her, but they aren't memories of *her.* I can't reconcile the fact that she was only ever a bunch of pixels, but at the same time, her absence has cracked open a void in my life that just sits there, gaping and empty.
How do you talk to anyone about this? How do you explain that you're falling apart because you miss someone you never set eyes on? I mean fuck, I'm in my twenties now. Julia and I, we'd gamed together since high school. I knew her better than half my friends at college. She meant more to me than most of the girls I dated.
It's a lonely life, working from home and now unable to take part in the one hobby I still enjoyed. My therapist suggests one day that taking care of something might help. If I'm feeling up to it, she says, maybe I can buy a plant, or adopt something small.
She says to start with a fish, something low-maintenance that I can handle on my low energy days, but instead I find myself loitering in the parking lot of the local animal shelter. I can't make myself walk in a first, too paranoid that every person I pass can see the black cloud crowding in at the periphery of all my thoughts. I'm worried, completely nonsensically, that they'll take one look at me and decide I'm too unstable to adopt anything.
I think about what my therapist said. I remind myself that I've summoned up the courage to make it this far--walking home now would only make me feel worse.
Inside, the atmosphere is honestly kind of depressing. So many cute animals tucked away in too-small cages, crowding in against the walls with fearful eyes. But there are bright spots too: the wag of a puppy's tail as a girl lifts it in her arms, smiling hugely. And there's a big glass enclosure full of baby bunnies that tumble all over one another in a big soft heap.
Then I see her.
I almost miss her, since she's so small: a tiny black cat in a cage that could hold something much larger. She's curled in the very back corner, watching me with luminous yellow eyes that seem to say *I don't trust you yet.* She doesn't move at all when I walk closer, stooping down to peer inside.
"Hey, little girl." I give her a smile, even though I know it's pointless. She can't speak English and she definitely won't smile back.
She stays curled just as she is, hunching up a little. Her fur looks silky and soft--she's definitely not some stray nabbed off the street. Someone's been taking care of her.
She's so small, so scared-looking. I have to have her. But when I ask at the front counter, they inform me I can't take her home straight away. Since she was brought in off the street, there's a mandatory stand-down period. They have to make sure nobody comes to claim her first. And as much as I hate to agree with that, it does make sense--she's beautiful. If she has a family that misses her, I'd be a real bastard for taking her away.
Still, the thought of those bright eyes--glowing like a harvest moon--follows me on the long walk home.
I pull my coat collar higher up around my neck and shiver, walking from the cold road and into my cold and empty apartment.
\###
I must have dozed off reading, because I awaken with a jolt when something clatters in the living room. I'm in my bed, book a little tent upon my chest, and the sun's gone down. I never turned on any lights--why bother?--so it's dark as hell in my bedroom.
It's dark as hell and someone is in my house.
I can hear their progress as they move in from the living room. Usually, the heaps of coke cans and old empty bottles on my floor are source of deep shame. I can't bring myself to clean, but I hate myself for making a mess. But tonight I'm glad for them--I can hear every tipped-over soda can as whoever it is makes their way down the hall.
All falls quiet.
Then a moment later, a streak of dark fur. A soft, warm weight alights upon the bedcovers. I can see her in the night, golden eyes shimmering, the only source of light in the darkened room.
"Sorry your highness, but there’s no time to explain, you must follow me."
Am I dreaming? I tilt my head. The cat's mouth didn't open, but I heard her voice clear as day. Worse still, the voice sounds familiar.
I don't like this dream.
My throat feels tight. I rub at the corners of my eyes, trying to stuff the tears away before they can fully form.
"This isn't fucking funny," I say. How dare it use her voice. How fucking dare it.
"It isn't funny because it isn't a joke." The cat continues to stare at me. I hear Julia's voice in my ears, that soft matter-of-fact tone she used when correcting my fuckups in raids.
I reach up and slap myself across the cheek, just in case. But I'm still awake.
"Prince Aenlark," says the cat, eyes unblinking. "Your world needs you. And you're spending all your days in bed."
Being talked down to by a talking cat is strange enough, but the cat addressing me by my gamertag is what convinces me this scenario is just too fucked up to be a dream. Only reality can hit this hard and hurt this much.
Slowly, I sit up. The book falls off my chest with a distant, weighty thud.
"Julia?"
The cat backs off down the bed, a soft silhouette in the dark.
"Come on," she says. "Get up."
Slowly, I crawl out from under my blankets. I'm still in my jeans, only just having bothered to take my shoes off. I flip the switch on the floor lamp, wincing a little as it illuminates my sad, filthy bedroom. Old clothes, beer bottles, and coke cans are piled on every surface. I haven't ever cleaned out the ashtray from that time I thought smoking might make me feel better. I look away, unable to look the cat in the eyes. It's a cat, I know, but it sounds like her and I'd never want her to see me like this.
"Oh, my prince." She sounds so sad.
"I'm sorry." I feel myself tear up again, hate myself for it. "It's..." But I can't even come up with a decent excuse. I just let myself fall apart. That's all it is.
The cat walks up, twining between my legs and nuzzling my calf with her cheek. I reach down and stroke my hand across her ears. They're soft as a kitten's. Her cold nose brushes my palm.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself," she says. And I know she's right, but at the same time, what the fuck *can* I do?
The cat slips from between my legs and out toward the hallway. I hear more rustling as she wriggles through the heaps of discarded clothes and garbage.
When she returns, she’s got a black plastic trash bag clutched in her teeth. She drags it along the floor toward me, then sets it at my feet.
"Come on," she says. "This is no room fit for a Prince."
I reach down and pick up a beer bottle, staring into her luminous yellow eyes. I put the first bottle of many in the bag. The cat gives me an encouraging headbutt, arching up and nuzzling my leg.
"That's it," she says.
And everything still hurts. And I still can't hear her voice without feeling a little light-headed. But one bottle is a start.
|
I looked over at the clock situated on my end table. The time read 0128, and I could see the glow of the streetlights through my window's shutters. I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes, hoping this was a bad prank.
"W-what? This has got to be a prank. Come on out guys, show yourselves..."
The brown tabby I had named Samantha sighs and walks up to me, pawing at my face before she speaks again.
"This is not a prank, and we need to move now before they arrive."
The cat jumped off of the bed and pawed at my closet. Why do I feel like I'm in an 90's movie?
"Hurry your highness! We must move at once!"
I decided to humor the cat and climbed out of bed, pulling on his jeans and boots, slowly doing his belt buckle.
"Faster! We don't have much time!"
The tabby ran out into the living room as I stuffed various clothes and toiletries into my bag, pausing in front of his dresser and looking at the pictures on it. The rapid pidder padder of cat feet could be heard as she came ran back into the bedroom.
"They're fast approaching, what are you doing!?"
I stoid there insilence for a few seconds beffore stufding a few of the pictures in my bag. I pulled my jacket on and slung the bag over my shoulder, pulling a hat over my head.
"I swear if this is some elaborate prank..."
"It's not! I promise to explain everything later!"
The urgency in her voice was all to real. She turned around and ran to the door that exited to the driveway. I walked over and opened the door, and she rushed out to my truck, sniffing around it, her ears moving around.
I opened the door to my Comanche and tossed my bag to the other side and Samantha hopped in. I sat down in the seat and closed the door, fumbling with my keys.
"Hurry your highness, they're almost here!"
She hissed at me as I pulled them out of my jacket pocket.
"I heard you the first time you know. And stop calling me that."
I turned the key and the engine turned and the old Jeep pickup truck spurred to life. I turned the lights on and pulled my seatbelt on, making sure everhthing was in order.
"For the love of- what are you doing!?"
Her voice was more urgent than before. I shook my head and looked out the front of the window and saw glowing eyes at the end of my drive way.
"It's to late!"
The glowing eyes turned out to be dogs. And a lot of them. Pit bulls, german sheperds, chihuahuas, shibas, all manner of dogs.
"What the hell..."
"Just drive before they rip us to shreds!"
"But..."
"Just go!"
I hesitate and the dogs start running towards the truck, growling and showing their teeth. That convinced me. I shoved the truck in reverse and backed through the yard, the fence, and intonthe alley behind my house. I wipped it so we were facing one of the ways out and stuck it into first, gunning it.
Samantha dug her claws into the seat to keep from flying around the cab. After a couple seconds she climbs to the top if the seat she was in and looked out the back window.
"They're still following us!"
We reached the end of the alley and I I turned the wheel into a hard left, and thebrear tires partially lost their grip as he over steered. Samantha lost her footing and let out a MREOW! as she flew towards the passenger door. I straightened out the truck and looked over at her.
"Are you alright!?"
"Yeah, I'll live."
She jumped up onto the back of the middle seat to look out in front of us, and I turned the corner and my eyes went wide.
"What the hell-"
"STOP!"
I slammed my foot down on the breaks and came to a skidding hault in front of a road block of cars, cats, and people who looked like they were wearing cat hears for a cosplay. One of them was Blake, my best friend. He grinned and stood up, walking over to us. Samantha walked over to the driver's side window.
"Roll the window down."
I rapidly worked the window crank as Blaje walked up, his jet black hair now accompanied by equally black ears.
"Guardsman Samantha."
"Guardsman Blake."
"I see you made it out."
"Barely. His Highness would barely listen to me. Didn't you explain this all to him earlier?"
Blake shuffled uneasily, letting a nervous grin show. Samantha's eyes narrowed, and I could feel the venom in her tone.
"Why didn't you!?"
"I'm sorry, I may be his best friend, but he would have thought I was crazy if I told him he was the heir to the throne of a long forgotten race!"
As I listened to them talk, I started to feel light headed. I heard dogs howling in the distance, and they were getting close. Everything started fading out, and I started to slowly lay down.
"...Your Highness? Your Highness!"
I knew they were panicking but that was about it. Something didn't feel right. Something was... changing...
"Shit! Move him over, I'll dri-"
And everything went black.
| 2019-04-03T19:59:00 | 2019-04-03T19:23:00 | 169 | 53 |
[WP] "The Young Anakin, Trained, he will be." Yoda said. Obi-Wan exclaims, "The council is in agreement then? I will train the Boy?" Yoda looks at Obi-Wan, "Mace Windu, his master will be."
|
"It's good to see you again, Anakin. I'm glad you could visit. Would you like to see the Senate Hall?" Chancellor Palpatine smiled.
Master Windu's first rule was Observe. The second rule was Reflect. He had given permission to Anakin to visit the Chancellor on the condition that he observe and reflect, to take in more information than he gave out.
"Yes, sir. Will we get to ride on a delegation platform?" Anakin sought his inner calm while feeling the force around him. Master Windu had taught him this exercise when asking people questions. It helped give a better insight into their true answers and motivations.
"Of course, my young friend. You wish to see things from the seat of power. Who wouldn't? This way."
It was evident that the Chancellor valued power. The force in the room had intensified ever so slightly when he said the word 'power', but it felt like the Chancellor was trying to stop it, to try to conceal his real feelings. They walked to the Senate Hall.
-----------
"And then what did you sense, Anakin?" Mace Windu put a pot of Nireek tea on the table and poured two cups.
"Master Windu, I kept sensing he was concealing his real purpose in inviting me to visit. He says we're friends, but I sensed, well, that he was lying." Anakin sipped his tea, testing it. It was still too hot.
"Well, concealment may be second nature to a politician. It is often an aspect of ourselves, and one we must come to grips with, as I've taught you before, but you sensed more than just concealment, didn't you?" Mace brought a bowl of Sumlup fruit bread to the table. They both enjoyed this simple but nutritious bread, easy to get since the Jedi temple was near the hydroponics district.
"Yes, master. While the Chancellor was talking about the history of the Senate, I tried to tune into the cadence of his voice."
"Your training served you well. Were you using the force sparingly?"
"Yes, sir."
"So you used the voice following technique? That's good. It was wise to restrict your use of the force. Too often, we Jedi can use it frivolously when we should be using it to direct ourselves to virtue and enlightenment, to insight and betterment. What did you gather from his voice, from his words, and his manner?"
"I sensed that he wanted to impress me, to placate me, and to use me. He called me friend a few too many times. I remained calm as long as possible, then focused my attention on the controls of the delegation platform. He let me pilot it for awhile, then we redocked it and he said he had to attend to matters of state. I think he was growing bored of me."
"Well, I'm glad you told me all of this. It is always somewhat alarming when an adult wants to use a child. I'm proud of your reaction and restraint. That quality of restraint has been something difficult for you, but you're improving. Do you wish to not see the Chancellor again? You don't have to if you don't want to. I want you to be safe."
"Thank you, master. I won't refuse his requests for visits. I think there's something strange about him. We should probably know more."
"Perhaps next time, I will accompany you. With the both of us paying attention to him, we may gain greater insight. We will speak to Master Yoda about this matter. I value his input. Let's eat our meal, first. Have some bread. I made it while you were out."
"Thank you, Master. And my thanks again for reading my proposal."
"It was well thought out. I know your concern is your mother, but you made a good case for dealing with the slavery problem in the Hutt territories. I've already passed it on to Master Krygorn. He's intrigued by the notion of a slavery treaty with the Hutts. There may be something they want in exchange, but with the resources of the Republic, perhaps we can strike a deal. If not, at least a formal overture from the Jedi council will make them realize that we're concerned with this particular practice. The Hutts value their profits too much to let them be threatened by a practice they don't indulge in too much themselves. We just have to be patient and trust Master Krygorn."
"Thank you, Master Windu. Trust is hard for me, sometimes, as you know, but I try."
"I know, Anakin. You're doing well. Healing from a difficult life is an important part of our training. We're going to work together on it."
|
*Discovering Anakin on Tatooine...*
Mace: "You think a pod racer moves fast? You should see the Force. It moves like it has a mind. Like it knows it killed the world once and got a taste for murder. The Force is lethal, Anakin, but it doesn't hold a candle to me."
*At the Jedi Council...*
Yoda: "Mace Windu, his master will be. Master Windu, you must--"
Mace: "Hey Yoda, you shut your face! If we want to hear you talk, I will shove my arm up your ass and work your mouth like a puppet."
*During the Clone Wars...*
Mace: "Enough is enough! I've had it with these motherfuckin' clones on this motherfuckin planet!"
*Facing off against Darth Sidious...*
Sidious: "Sorry, which Jedi are you again?"
Mace: "You know me. It's my duty to please that booty."
*After getting fried by Force Lightning...*
Mace: "SHREEV, you uppity son of a b..."
[Falls to his death]
| 2017-05-24T05:17:49 | 2017-05-24T05:16:52 | 161 | 11 |
[WP] Aliens arrive on Earth, but not for sinister purposes like colonization or waging war on us. They’re just so darn excited to see other life forms in the universe!
|
"What do you mean with "they just want to talk?""
The operator shrugged. "I don't know... Besides, they actually used the term""chat""
The president was confused. Having to deal with an alien race contacting us in perfect English was hard enough on his own, but how was he supposed to react to that? The scenarios he used to think about in college involved several kinds of conventional and non conventional warfare, but never "a chat". Was he supposed to just have tea with them?
"We will accept the invite, i guess". After all, what was the worse that could happen? The technology that the mysterious spaceship used to reach earth showcased very clearly how the aliens were undoubtly able to wipe humanity off the planet if so needed.
A few hours went by, and Mr. President was still sitting in his office. Decades of politics and handshaking perfected his ability to perform small talk, but he still felt like he was back at his first day of school. Terrified of meeting new people. And those weren't even people.
The phone rang, the radio telescope operator was calling back: everything was set, the meeting was to be held in... A cabin near a lake? "They insisted on picking a place that felt cozy and comfortable to us, they didn't want to - and i quote - "be a nuisance"".
Had he not been the goddamn president, at this point he would start laughing and trying to figure out where the cameras were. That had to be a prank, but it obviously wasn't. Everyone in the northern emisphere could see the perfectly square 100 kms wide spaceship hovering directly above central Siberia.
The following hours felt like a dream. They felt real, but not quite. Driving a car to a cabin in the woods where he would meet a couple aliens just willing to "chat" was surreal to say the least.
As he opened the door, two large figures turned towards him. They were about two and a half meters tall, vaguely humanoid. The president could also recognize a mouth and two eyes, although those features really pushed the boundaries of the two definitions.
"Good evening Mr. President!" the biggest of the two creatures said gleefully with a voice that felt almost synthetic.
"We so dearly hope our translators are properly calibrated, we would not want to insult your species by just dropping by without being able to communicate appropriately"
Flabbergasted, the President's brain went on autopilot for a moment. "Well, welcome to Earth" he said, moving his hand forward to propose a good old reliable handshake.
Before he could realize how little sense that gesture had in such a context, one of the aliens, the smaller one, let out a squeak of excitement.
"Look at that! What does that gesture mean? Is touching each other's limbs a greeting on this world?"
"Well, yes"
"We haven't been doing that for millenia, the health hazards were just too massive. If that "Covid-19" looks scary now, it's because you haven't seen what genetically engineered viruses are able to do"
The president, taken by surprise, pulled back his hand
"Nonono! We carefully sanitized ourselves before landing, we'd be happy to convivially hold hands with you"
Both aliens used their vaguely recognizable upper limbs to shake the president's hand, both at the same time - one left, one right.
The president cleared his throat. Some of his savoir faire was coming back. "So" he said "I'm not trying to be unwelcoming, but what brings you here?"
The two beings glanced at each other.
"Curiosity, mostly" said the tallest. "We saw a planet with intelligent life, and decided to drop by to see what are you up to"
"I take it you are not emissaries or scientists?"
"Quite the opposite Sir, we were doing nothing but visiting relatives around the star you know as Proxima Centauri"
The president was easing up, but he still felt like some world-ending ultimatum was about to be presented.
"So, might you be interested in our latest scientific breakthroughs? Maybe see our newest toys? We could learn from each other"
The smaller alien answered the question on behalf of the other, currently busy taking a 3d scan of a small ceramic reproduction of the Eiffel Tower that was lying on a drawer.
"It is our turn to excuse ourselves - we do not want to come off as arrogant, but our species has kind of already figured out all of it. I'm sure your species will have a great history with nanotechnology and cold fusion, but by now we look at such discoveries like you look at the discovery of the wheel"
The president was too amazed to feel offended. "And what else could we talk about? Do you have any questions?"
"Actually yes" the tallest was finished with his souvenir "how does your species think? Why is the universe where it is according to your scientists? Which plans does your species have for the far future?".
"Those are questions i am afraid i can't answer" The president shook his head, embarrassed. "You would need to contact hundreds of scientists, philosophers, theorists - most of which hardly agree on anything"
"OH! I'm terribly sorry, aren't you at that point yet? Usually intelligent species with a level of development similar to yours have already formed an unified civilization and found internal peace and agreement."
"Wait wha-"
"We shouldn't have come down without checking first! I told you!" the smallest said to the biggest. "They are not ready yet!"
The president was, perhaps understandably, utterly confused. "Wait, what to you mean? Ready for what?"
The smallest turned back towards him "I'm afraid i can't tell you. This is a MAJOR violation of the galactic code of conduct towards primitive intelligent species" he had glanced at the taller alien while stressing the word "major".
"We need to leave now, but perhaps you'll be still around when we get a permission to come back. Farewell humans!"
Before the president could react, the two beings disappeared in a manner that eerily resembled the teleporters from Star Trek.
Upon exiting the cabin, the president was greeted by hordes of journalists, soldiers and politicians. One question was asked by all of them at once, until a young woman with a microphone and a press badge managed to sneak her way in front of him. She stuck the microphone in front of his face, and asked "What did the aliens say?"
The whole area fell dead silent.
After long seconds, the president eventually found the courage to answer.
"We'll understand once we grow up"
|
Clem pinched the ridge of his nose and closed his eyes tight. Tight tight tight. It was the kind of self-harming action to attempt to induce lucidness through pain. Clem didn't understand it that way, though. He just knew that normally when he got piss-drunk the act would some times bring him enough out of his stupor in order to drive home. Or at least not see double, like he was now.
There, across the field... was Clem. Or, at least, that's what Clem thought he saw. Himself, standing out in the fresh cane shoots, with some kind of bizarre silver Silverado behind him. He, rather, Clem 2, seemed to be showing all the distinct signs of being lost. He was alternating between holding a strange, thin rectangle up to the sky and pulling out an archaic paper map, muttering and cussin to himself.
He, that is Clem α, approached cautiously while the stranger had his back turned, headlights casting him in shadow. "Hey now, Mister. What're you doin' on my prop-er-tay?" he said. Part of him really wish he'd grabbed his shotgun before he made his way to investigate the strange sight. He'd fallen asleep on the couch, still in his overalls and plaid when the loud KABOOM rattled every commemorative Dale plate in the double wide.
What neither Clem expected was to hear his own voice, speaking his own language coming out of this other body. New Clem quickly spun around and yelped. "Gee-yosh! What're you doin sneakin up on me like that?!" he howled before settling down. He seemed to immediately notice Original Clem's lack of a weapon and for a moment was both relaxed and smug, figurin' *he* would have thought of that had he gone out to investigate. "Ain't like I got half a mind to dis-senerate you where you stand." he said, before pointing his rectangle at the double.
"Wit whut? Yo'r cellular phone?" Backstreet Clem retorted with a scoff.
"Whut? This here phone gets plent'ee a laser. Just you watch!" Clem-Sync responded.
"Oh yah! Well mine can take vydio and make da silly faces!"
"Oh yah?! ... ... that does sound kinda neat."
"Yah, my girl Charlie she hooked it up real good. She's a whiz with dem phones."
"You gotta Charlie too?! Mine ain't too hot wit da technology, but she cook a mean space possum."
"Space possum?" Clem said, finally realizing he wasn't talking to himself. "... do it go good with beer?"
"S'caw! Does a flabberjack know it's a stungblute?"
... and thus began the greatest echo chamber in recorded history.
| 2020-11-24T04:33:19 | 2020-11-24T01:19:01 | 991 | 127 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
credit to r/Debdub10 for thinking of the idea
|
\[Diary Log, Entry n°ליטהאָפּעדיאָן\]
At first, there was not much going on on this planet : some primitive forms of life hunting, reproducing, the usual. Then something happened, something that I will never forget, that I saw during my shift in the office הילף about 89 Megacycles ago : somewhere on this planet, a lightning struck some flammable life form, and it started a fire, nothing special, but then... then *this* hairy living saw it, got closer, and *grabbed this other fucking burning being with his bare hands, just out of curiosity.*
It all went downhill from there.
I remember that at the beginning I thought that it was "just" an incident, nothing to worry about, after all weird things happen all the time in this galaxy.
But still, it wasn't like anything else I ever saw : a living being put itself in danger for pretty much nothing, and it wasn't even an eusocial animal, like the ones in הרג'ע מיר. And then it happened again. And again. And then They found out that fire can warm you up, so they started to *actively* *look for* fire, and before long they *made it themselves*, and almost *worshiped* it.
At this point, I had told my everyone at the office about them, and these things were basically the biggest thing right now, everyone was talking about them, tho I'm not sure if they were afraid or amused by this tiny things, but I know for sure that *i* was *terrified*.
One may think there is nothing that scary in them : They only live for a really short amount of time, barely one quarter of a cycle. But They all seem to try to make that lifespan *even shorter* : "One of us discovered that breaking rocks makes them keener ? Great, now we can attack these *giant fucking mountains of muscles that are ten times bigger than us !* Or even better : let's chase them until they're all dead ! Wait, the stuff that allow us to make fire can *float* ? Well good, now we can use it to travel on water for hundred of miles with no way to control where we are going, just in case we discover a new place, just a little bit better, if we don't die during the journey of course !"... I think you got the idea.
The thing with them is that They seem to have no consciousness as a species whatsoever : the fact hundreds of them died because of lighting did not stop them to literally use lightning to light them up.
And that's why they are labeled "THE MOST DANGEROUS LIFE FORM IN THE UNIVERSE" by most unibloids, and that's why the Council voted to put their planet's System in isolation for an undetermined amount of time. Well, to be precise, the Council voted this when they discovered that most of Them used big metal box propelled by explosions of decomposed dead things to move around.
But I don't think it's a good solution; I'm probably the thing in the Universe that knows the most about Them, and I know that, no matter what we do against them, They will find a way to use it a their advantage. In fact, some religious terrorists tried to destroy the planet by sending a gigantic asteroid on it, to purge the Galaxy, and not only did They succeeded to diverge the path of the asteroid, but They used the minerals on the meteoroid to builds rockets - their medium to reach space, essentially their big box propelled by dead stuff but way bigger, and aimed at the sky. Who knows, maybe they will find a way to use the cosmic fabric we use to isolate them to manipulate the space time continuum ? I'm pretty sure they could achieve that by doing random shit with it until it happened, and that probably wouldn't even be their biggest achievement.
I think the only solution we have is to engage with them, to try to defuse the ticking bomb that they are by easing them in the cosmic community, and then maybe they could somehow calm down.
​
\[Diary Log, Entry n°נישט קיין אנונג\]
Ok I withdraw everything positive I ever said about these thing they just invented the "*Explosive dating Russian Roulette*" they're way too fucking weird we should nuke them
​
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
​
​
That's my second WP and as you can probably tell I didn't knew how to end the thing. Hope you liked it anyway, and I'm sorry for any mistakes I may have done, English isn't my first language :/
|
The entire point was to develop more empathy by furthering understanding of ourselves.
Some people are hard on others because they had a harder or more competitive life themselves, not always but some. I wanted everyone to start becoming more understanding of their situation so they could understand others eventually but I have too much mental baggage to do it in person.
Once you know why you do something you can generally guess why someone else does things which is common knowledge which is why I wanted to utilize it.
 
The two things I didn't plan for was that:
1) The majority of humans aren't honest with themselves they run from things that hurt them or make them uncomfortable leading to people having inaccurate assumptions of others because they deny the aspect of human nature they deny in themselves.
Most people just create narratives because life is complex/hard and sometimes it's easier just to make quick judgement because other things require more attention
 
2) People don't really actually care for others because they're too busy or impatient with their own lives. It's difficult to create empathy unless people see archetypes of each other daily, blue collar, white collar, different races etc.
Peoples lives are too busy with their own lives to put much focus on others unless they see them on a daily basis
| 2018-10-11T11:31:57 | 2018-10-11T11:17:31 | 147 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is given a red button that's linked to a main counter. Every time the counter reaches 1000, someone in the world is randomly killed among all those who didn't press (for that round only). Everyone knows these rules. You try to convince people to stop clicking the button.
|
Power, influence, money, promises, drugs, no matter what I give these people, they don't seem to want to fucking listen.
It's been five months since the day that many refer to as Selection Day. It was bad at first. Everyone was given a button that simply appeared on them as if it were an act of God, a red button that fit into the palm of your hand and did absolutely nothing if pressed. Oh, except if you were the 1,000th person to press it. Then you kill someone.
I was among the first to realize this because I had connections. Once everyone got one, we figured that testing what the button did was a good idea. Add that on to the millions of people that also pressed the button... you see the point. For every million presses, there were a thousand deaths. And that doesn't mean a million people. There were those who pressed it multiple times, to see if it did anything different, the sick fucks who spammed the button on purpose, those who accidentally pressed it without meaning to. People were being killed left and right.
According to the Director of the CIA, a personal friend of mine, the world suffered 1.2 billion casualties in the first day. After that, people started handing them into the government, who exposed of them the only way we know how. Gunfire, chemicals, melting, nuclear detonation, not even pressure affected these things, so we built a large catapult of sorts, a pressure cannon, that would launch things into space. The buttons were loading into storage barrels and were fired directly towards the Sun. Some hotshot NASA scientist figured out the formula for when the structure would line up with the Sun so that we could fire them off before he got Selected, so there are regularly scheduled launches.
Over the course of the next week, the population was cut from 6.1 billion all the way to 1.3 billion, about the population of China. This was due to people who wanted to press the button and people who weren't educated enough to not press it. The CIA estimates almost 30% of the presses were from Africa and another 25% from South America, Asia at 20%, Europe and North America making up another 20% and the rest of the world with the last 5% or so. Weeks turn to months and the population dropped further still to almost 400 million. At this point, the United States of America took over and moved everyone that was remaining into the country. Walls were erected to prevent people from escaping and being unaccounted for. The population stagnated at 346 million, just over the population of the United States when it all went to shit.
I was the richest man alive when the population stagnated. So many had died and no one was immune, it was pure chance. The government continued to collect buttons while I gave away my wealth and material goods and even made promises I could later keep just to get people to hand over their buttons. Many people looked up to me, and I looked up to them for being a good human and hunting buttons. The CIA says that every country kept a record for buttons collected, and there are exact numbers for how many buttons have been destroyed, sitting somewhere in the 5.6 billions.
The problem was that there were too many people hoarding too many buttons. No matter what I offered, they continued to press the buttons and kill people. They did it because they figured out a rule: If you press a button in between two deaths, you wouldn't die. It meant a couple of things: The buttons could never wipe us out completely, and people could hit the button knowing it wouldn't kill them, which just gave them more motivation to hit it. I can't grow enough opium, not even with my specially permitted lands overseas, to keep people from hitting the buttons. No portion of the $700 million I possessed could make people turn in their buttons. The fall of humanity would come from other humans rather than an event that wipes us out; we were going to die by our own hand by our own choice.
The worst part about it is that the planet itself has never been better. Barely any pollution, way less people, the planet is allowed to regrow untamed and uncultured, species have bounced back drastically, and no more production and industry in the vast majority of the world meant that it could actually thrive rather than being held back by humanity. The end would come in a field of flowers and the sun tickling the face of the last human alive.
My final offer in this campaign is to pay people to hunt down buttons. I have supplied them with weapons, given them the resources to find buttons, and we gain about ten thousand per day. Satellites show that there is no human activity anywhere but here, but eventually we will have to scour the rest of the globe and find all 7.3 billion buttons spawned into existence. I can only hope that this future is not all that far off.
|
Nobody knows when it started, but it's going to end tomorrow.
It took decades of espionage, wetwork and trust building to emplace our agents into the Hall of The Chosen, but we finally succeeded.
Every day of the last three years one of my closest brothers had to authorize another killing. He would be mad were it not for his faith.
We infiltrated their highest ranks one by one and dug deeper and deeper into the catacombs until we found IT. Layer upon layer of The Ones Who Were Before Us we peeled away to lay bare the truth they hid so well for times unknown.
As we approached the whirring and clanking machine, its fans only a low rumble still, we knew our purpose would soon be fulfilled. A single broadcast after our heist.
"Dear citizens, for times unknown you committed atrocity after atrocity. Your brothers, your sisters, your fathers, your mothers. Everyone knows a Missing One. Yet you killed again and again. We have infiltrated the Hall. We know every Discriminator's location, even of those that you hid to escape the inevitable. From now on, each day one of those who still use their Discriminator will die. Make your choice."
| 2017-03-20T00:29:17 | 2017-03-20T00:09:23 | 89 | 20 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
Commander Siren had dismissed the rumors.
Humans are a proud race. Though new amongst the stars with barely a few ships to their name, they have worked hard to integrate, to learn, to join that blasted Republic and all its artists and scientists. Even though they’ve never seen an alien in person before, they’d still worked very hard for the day they did. Gifts, knowledge, science, technology. Great effort was made by humanity to present themselves in the best possible light.
Of course, the Elder Senate of the Republic has passed a resolution, barring humanity from learning of the Fifth Great War, and is, the Union Tide.
So it was a shock to humanity that those who lived amongst the stars still waged war.
When our fleets jumped into the fray, the humans hailed us. When we fired, they quickly scattered, evacuating their outposts all across the Solar System in an exodus toward Earth.
To be fair, for a race with no weapons, they’d put up a pretty good fight. In fact, using satellites and abandoned wreckage, they’d managed to actually damage a few of our ships. It was almost as if they DID know how to fight.
So I investigated, hacking into their archives, their history.
For some reason, everything over three hundred years old had been buried. Redacted from records, hidden away from public view.
There was, however, an internal set of records. And in their education system, amongst a class curiously named, pre-disaster history, I found the answer.
I downloaded the data I could before the humans blocked me off. I opened up a random file, a journal of a human official serving in a intercontinental government at the time.
“Day 43.”
“The scientists have managed to create what we need. Project Golem. It will finally march across the radiation blasted Northern front, and take the capital city of ——.”
An image showed an enormous automaton, bristling with kinetic weapons, roaring across the landscape as armor-clad humans fought it with vehicles and missiles.
In dread, I opened another record.
“We will NEVER surrender. Like Churchill, like the Russians, we will survive no matter how many nuclear weapons drop on top of us. No matter how many of us are thrown into the meat grinder.”
Nuclear weapons? Outlawed a thousand years ago by the Republic, these devices could wipe out the surface of a planet if used enough times.
I read deeper, and grew more terrified with each passage.
Three hundred years ago, the humans had been a war like race unlike any other. Even insectoid species, though they were cannibals, would all focus for the good of the species as a whole.
Not these warm-bloods. They killed each other over every drop of resource, every disagreement. Cities razed for the sake of philosophy and religion. Murder and violence transformed from art into science.
In their last war they had nearly wiped themselves out dozens of times, forcibly cloning themselves and running mass fertility programs simply to maintain a viable population. They’d manage to develop dozens of biological, mechanical, and chemical weapons, over half of which were outlawed by the Republic as WMDs.
When the nuclear bombs annihilated their surface, they resorted to going underground, sending robot armies to smash each other’s bunkers. When that failed, nanobots were injected into water supplies and scorched the oceans. If it weren’t for humanity’s insane technological prowess and their utter determination to survive, they’d have wiped themselves out.
I brought all this up to Commander Siren. He, of course, refused to believe any of it. It was all too ludicrous. It must be a trick, he said as our fleet neared Earth. A misinformation campaign to deter us.
The illusion field around earth fell away, the gleaming ocean and verdant forests vanishing like a wrapping sliding off.
Cracked open crust and scorched atmosphere, dotted with pale lights around small pockets of blue and green, greeted us.
Before us, flashes of light shone across the surface like a newborn constellation, and the fleet sensors blared in warning. Thousands of missiles, nuclear, nanobot, robot-carrying.
Hidden orbital stations opened up, railguns and lasers firing. Hastily cobbled from stolen weaponry of our own, mounted onto their technology in a desperate attempt to even the technological playing field.
Our rear sensors put out more warnings. The moon. They’d blasted chunks off their moon, firing them at our fleet. Explosions rocked our ships as enormous masses of rock smashed into them, killing millions of soldiers and crew. It was insane; the chunks would fall to earth, destroying whatever they had left down there. But I realized, a second too late, that they do not care.
As the ragged fleets of humanity came into view, firing ruthlessly at our surrendering warships, a single message flared across our communications channel. A young woman, her face blackened with soot and her eyes blazing with hatred, said only one word.
“DIE.”
|
Their history was terrifying. We had sent down scouts, and they'd stumbled upon war after war after war in their history books.
And then, their 'Third World War' came to pass, and left only children, scarred and left in ruins, in it's wake. From those children, a new society was born, willing to do anything and everything to avoid yet another war.
They turned from elk ramming at each other to lambs, huddled together for protection. An easy target.
We landed down in one of their many oceans, and aimed our sights to Asia and Europe.
They came like a tsunami. Quiet, at first. A pull back as we went forward, fleeing we had so naively thought. A route, a victory.
But no.
No.
On the horizon they came, full of rage and anger and hatred for forcing their hand towards war yet again after so many years of peace. They loathed us with every fibre of their being, and it was palpable with hiw savagely they fought.
Within mere months of routing and gathering themselves, we were forced off planet and we thought that was the end.
But they followed. Humans hungered for more than safety now, they wanted revenge. They took our fallen spacecrafts and made it their own, manufacturing more and better versions for themselves.
War, it seemed, was enough to drag a beast awake from its slumber, and it threatened to swallow the entire galaxy.
*edited for inconsistencies
| 2019-02-26T12:17:07 | 2019-02-26T09:57:40 | 62 | 38 |
[WP] A multitude of Alien ships warp within range of Earth. Over all electronic devices the message is heard, "Earth, we come in peace. In all the universe only one other Species has mastered Death and Destruction as you have. We need your help."
|
The Council slowly came to order. 3 species from different worlds, all of them peaceful and advanced, with a 500 year history of being the closest of allies.
And yet, this discussion might just break them apart.
Council Member Grak, tall and slender beneath the iridescent scales of his race, stood from among his delegation. "Good morning to you all. We come together today to discuss the progress of the fighting in NR-347 and NR-..."
Council Member Helios stood and interrupted Grak. "We all are aware of the fighting, even with it coming 50 years early!" Helios was hot tempered, and more prone to outbursts than the rest of his race. His 4 eyes glared balefully from his broad brown snout. "The Enemy is pushing us and our forces are barely holding. If we had not gone along with your mad scheme to arm those... *primatives* then we would have another full fleet to put on the line!"
Grak exhaled through his secondary membrane. Helios led a faction in the Council that favored simply blockading the Border Worlds and letting the Frontier fall to the enemy. When Grak had convinced the Council to give the Humans a full fleet of ships to prepare for the invasion, the rest of the 100 member assembly had assumed that they would actually be put to use. It had been the ethical thing to do, since their world was in the path of the Enemy and Humans were the only species in the area to be even close to a useful buffer. However, since the delivery of ships the only word from them was an acknowledgement of the news that fighting had started.
The Humans were... strange. All of the other Council races had been at peace with themselves for their whole histories. Descended from 2 herd races and a hive mind, fighting was simply outside their nature. Even attempting genetic manipulation to create their own soldiers had been a disaster. Hiring the Humans as mercenaries had seemed a perfect solution. There were enough of them, and they bred quickly enough, that there should have been a wall of them across the Frontier already.
Even as Grak tried to think of a counter to the arguments still issuing from his counterpart, one of the Xin stood from their delegation and the translator hummed to life. <<Queen. Alarm. Approach. Foes. Danger. Danger.>>
Grak was surprised. The Xin, looking like crabs with fingers instead of claws almost never showed any signs of concern. For them to show that now....
A guard came into the 4th chamber of the Council Hall looking as if wildfire burned behind him. "My Honors, there is a... a representative here. He demands audience!"
The Hall burst into shouts and sounds of panic. The Enemy *here*? Even as the doors opened the panic only subsided when a two legged shape came in past the lights. A black uniform and rows of colorful markings across the chest meant that this was a member of the Human military from what Grak recalled. Within ten steps, the only sound was the clicking of the Human's shoes on the stone floor as he mounted the steps to the guest podium.
"I am Fleet Commodore Da Gang. I have been sent to you to take Earth's first place on this Council."
Outrage thundered from Helios' corner of the room. Grak was not far from joining him. To demand this...!
Helios quieted his fellows and spoke. "Human, it has been 10 years and you have been silent. Now you come demanding honor as equals?! This is beyond madness! While you have been cowering, our forces have bled and died holding back the Enemy!"
Grak tuned out the tirade and watched the Human. His face changed not at all, without a twitch against the force of Helios' anger. It was worrying. Grak had not risen as far as he had without knowing when he saw a trap.
Da Gang stood with his hands behind his back, silently waiting for Helios to run out of steam. When he had the attention of the Council again, he began.
"Honors, I have been sent not just with our claim to join this Council, but also to show what we have done for a war that is, I remind you, YOUR war."
Waving an attendant forward, Da Gang began a presentation on an unfamiliar holo-emitter. "You presented us with a fleet of ships and asked us to use them to fight your Enemy. We found quickly that your ships were.... inadequate... for the task."
The visions of most of the fleet being blotted out among the stars filled the room. No one dared speak. Helios had all of his eyes fixed on the violence. His concession to allowing the Humans to have the ships was that they would be aging hulks. Grak imagined that there was some regret of that now.
Da Gang continued. "Luckily for us, however, we took some of the ships and took them apart. We learned how to make the technology you gifted us. And then we improved it."
The images changed to a moon being disassembled for materials. The shipyards above what Grak recognized as the 5th planet of their home system filled 2 entire Lagrange points. To have done all this.... to have done all this in a mere *10* *years* was unthinkable.
"Our weapons are now 50% more powerful than what the Enemy uses. As you can see," the stars making up the Human's spiral arm now dominated the room, "we have pushed back this Invasion approximately 7% since our new ships have come into use."
Flickering red dots showed the sites of battles, scattered like drops of the Humans' red blood. Several of the Enemy's colony worlds were marked. A frown crossed Grak's face. "Fleet Commodore, what are the black spots with the yellow rings?" Dread made his voice faint, but Da Gang heard him.
"After the early defeats, we needed a weapon that the enemy could not fight off. We had many of your star-drives ready, so we used them."
The images changed again. Dreadnaught engines strapped to... asteroids? But why would.... No. No, not even a race that fought itself could be so deranged.
"As you can see, these black spots are Enemy holdings that have been... neutralized."
Helios wept as the Council watched worlds burn. "How could you have done this? What have you done?"
Da Gang's expression finally changed. To surprise.
"We did as you asked."
"We brought you victory."
EDIT: [Part 2 included](https://docs.google.com/document/d/14NoT0Myy4fJGmiEiwquxhsXTaNAZoT7ZpqRBc8HjSfc/edit?usp=sharing)
|
1000 Years Later
Sai Benedict was tired, scared, and alone; his lab assistants hadn't turned up to work, which could mean only one thing - the Earth Military Council had rounded them all up. That meant it would only be a matter of time until the intensive interrogations revealed the location of his lab; even with the neural inhibitors he had scrounged together, and installed in their heads, he would only have a few more hours at the most. That time was meant to be used to escape, to set up elsewhere and begin again from scratch, but he couldn't do it again.
It wasn't anything to do with willingness; he literally couldn't. For a start, even with black market rejuvenation treatments, his two hundred year old frame just couldn't take much more. A simple look in the mirror told the rest of the story: whereas just ten years ago (before the last relocation) he had looked like a svelte young man in his mid twenties, with dark hair, light brown skin, and piercing green eyes, he now appeared almost monstrous. His hair was patchy and albino white, his skin was a sickly yellow color (covered in painful boils), and his eyes--now all but blind without technology--were almost completely white. During the last close call, EMC internal security had zombified one of his own assistants; they used her to deliver a biological weapon that Sai had not been able--even with his formidable training--to counter.
He'd upgraded the rest of his assistants' implants to ensure something similar couldn't happen again, and had found a way to prolong what he had left of life, but there just wasn't much time left. A hacking cough, that brought up a mixture of blood and greenish phlegm, reminded him of that fact. So instead of even thinking about escape, he went back to work.
Looking around the lab, before he did so, he let out a sigh. In his youth, before he'd joined one of the many failed revolutions, he'd always been surrounded by the best facilities: private and EMC funding had taken him through the most promising schools and universities, before placing him in charge of one of the navy's R&D facilities. Now, however, he was stationed in a retrofitted barn outside of Moscow - gone were the shining banks of modern holo stations, and in their place a mishmash of technology ranging from the relatively new to the positively ancient; he even had an old quantum computer gathering dust in the corner.
At the center of it all was a surgery table, the only piece of cutting edge tech in the barn, upon which lay what appeared to be a bald human male (he didn't even have eyebrows yet). Of course, it was actually the most advanced simulated organism ever created - able to pass as a human, but with capabilities far in advance (even with all the recent innovations) of any man or woman, and more importantly--if he could get the damned thing activated and on its way to Angelica--it offered the potentiality of fixing humankind's greatest mistake...
| 2015-06-07T08:10:25 | 2015-06-07T07:29:24 | 164 | 13 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen.
|
The human lay on the floor with it's eyes shut tightly, stagnant water dripping from it, a single reed sticking out of its mouth.
After a few moments it opened its eyes to see why the pond water had suddenly vanished, eventually focusing in on the officials surrounding it.
"Hmm. It seems to be in good enough shape, but it's a bit small."
"Why is it all wet?"
One of the aliens raises a holographic cube with a tentacle, gesticulating to rewind the footage shown within.
"Ah, it was hiding from another human faction."
The footage showed several dozen heavily armed but raggedly clothed humans canvassing the woods surrounding the scummy pond from which the human had been snatched.
"Great, another coward."
"Oh well. Connect it to the psycho-mat and inform it of this years conditions."
"Hmm, it came from a tropical rain forest. This years arena is a tropical rain forest. Perhaps it can survive long enough to make things interesting. What are the odds on the human candidate this year?"
"Oof, two-to-one that it gets past 780th place."
"500th?"
"Wow. Over eighty-three thousand."
"Hahaha, maybe worth a small side bet."
The Officials swiped away the cube and all but one made their way out of the chamber.
A light shone into the humans face and transmitted the details of this years battle royale, and the prize for success.
Though it was still a bit confused, the human comprehended the situation unusually quickly, and the psycho-mat beeped to confirm comprehension in a matter of seconds.
"Huh... that was quick."
It pulled up another holographic cube and checked to see comprehension times of other candidates. This years human candidate was orders of magnitude smarter than the second smartest candidate.
The remaining official took a second to ponder, then brought up a cube for the betting pools. After scrolling for a while, it finally came upon the betting interface for the human candidate all the way at the bottom of the list. It placed a sizable wager.
"Eh, worst case scenario I'll cut out visits to the pleasure-dome for a while," it said to calm the rapid beating of its hearts.
The human had already stood up and was taking stock of its possessions.
The official brought up a translator cube and spoke to the human, "did the transporter fail to bring along your possessions?"
The human paused for a moment then smiled, adopted what it believed to be a jovial tone and said, "yes. I had to hide most of my equipment before hiding from those communists in that pond."
The official contracted knowingly, "ah, that happens sometimes. Let me check the recordings."
After a few moments pause, during which the human seemed uneasy, the official said, "You must have hidden your equipment before you were selected, because I you don't seem to have any equipment in the recording."
"Ah, yes, I hid it before I left to find a hiding place."
"Oh, ok," the official brought up another cube, "here's a list of all of the contemporary equipment from your civilization that we can replicate. Pick out what you had and it will be provided before you are transported into the arena."
The human hesitated for a moment, then began scrolling through the list of items available:
Aerogel reinforced graphene scale bodysuit with quantum stealth coating; one single-handed and one two-handed firearm with several drum magazines loaded with tungsten tipped ammunition; an assortment of hand-held explosive devices; some kind of trap-making toolkit; a vest and backpack to store it all.
"That, uh, that's more or less what I had before you guys brought me here."
"Alright, get it over there and start preparing."
A hatch opened in the wall with all of the equipment.
The human rushed over and, after a moment running its hands appreciatively over the equipment, began donning everything.
"Does it match the specifications of your equipment?"
The human didn't respond immediately, intently sorting through the equipment.
The official popped several of it's suction cups to grab the humans attention.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, it's great," it glanced up at the official then continued to fondle the equipment, "it's just nice and brand new. Also the, uh, build quality is slightly better. Your culture must be very *advanced*"
The official unconsciously puffed up at that, "ah, yes, well, it's true. It's likely that some of this is of higher quality than what your people are capable. I'll leave you to prepare. The tournament begins in approximately one hour."
------------------------------------------------
"An investigation has been opened into the Tournament Official who oversaw the preparation by psycho-mat of the Human candidate today after, against all odds, the human was able to complete the Tournament in first place. Being the only individual to place a bet on the human, immediately before the onset of the tournament, some officials believe that there may have been some form of foul play. The Official in question claims that this individual was simply much more intelligent than the typical human and was aided more by the similarity of its home environment to the one chosen for this years Arena. More on this at fourteen-seventy-five. But first, this popular brand of krill paste might contain mammal byproducts..."
|
It had been years since he found himself in a situation this fucked up and unpredictable. Well, that would be according to his own standards, for most of humanity any of his weekly assignments would be insane. Working in the Foundation, anything could happen. And it means *literally anything*. But he usually had backup (until they died, turned in masses of flesh or started blowing up out of nowhere), so help felt a bit out of his mindset.
It didn’t help when he felt a tingling sensation in the back of his head, noticing a break into his mental barriers. Then the tingling became pain and he shouted. His mind wasn’t his own anymore.
“Welcome to the 69420th Stellaris Universal Chanpionship, where there are no rules, no analysis, just bloodshed! Today you’ve been chosen as the representative of your planet to fight in a massive battle royals involving every dominant species of each planet!”
Suddenly, he was falling and the pain receded. And he had to manage to not die in the fall... like all the other things that where being eaten in half by all kinds of winged mutants and exotic beings. And one approached him, fast, really fa-
“Son of a biiiiiiiii-“
END
Yeah I could write him overpowering everyone but let’s be honest, normal humans don’t stand a chance. Our species is weak.
| 2020-09-13T20:20:37 | 2020-09-13T18:47:59 | 39 | 10 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years."
|
I've always had to pretend I was mute. When I was very small, as soon as I hit the milestone to talk, I had been fluent in English. I remember bits and pieces before everything changed. That day I remembered clearly, well the important bits at least. I don't remember that morning, but I remembered the afternoon. Mum and dad had been so proud of me talking, the fact that I was learning and understanding things so quickly, that was until the day their friend had come over. I remember they had a slight accent and when I talked to them, they had been surprised then grinned at me. I happily chatted away while my parents starred on in horror. After their friend left, the smiles on their faces fell instantly. There was a lot of muttered and quite angry talking in the other room. I sat, pretending to play with my toy cars, but my stomach twisted and turned. I had done something wrong, but I didn't' know what. There was a door slam and then the house was quiet. I heard shuffling as dads head poked into the room to check on me before he vanished upstairs. Dinner was silent. Mum was back and hadn't said a word, she was tight lipped and had crashed and banged in the kitchen as she cooked dinner. Dad had talked quietly to me, but kept shushing me if I talked too loud. I didn't get it. Dinner ended without incident, I ever got cake! It's weird how I remember the cake so clearly. The normal routine continued on as the sun set outside. Dad turned the TV on and plonked down into his chair and switched the channel onto BBC 2 to watch Star Trek. I sat on his knee and watched happily as the clinking of glass and cutlery echoed around the room. Then men with weird faces came onto the screen and started talking, brandishing a weapon. I held my hand up like I had one to and yelled at the top of my voice. Suddenly my mum was in the room. She ripped me from my dads lap, screaming at me, hitting me. I screamed and cried, my heart pounding in my chest. I screamed for dad but the hits kept coming. Mum screamed at me to shut up, to never do that again, pinning me to a wall, her face inches from mine. I screamed in fear, begging for dad to help, which sent her into and even bigger rage, another hit struck the side of my face and I crumbled silently to the floor, my head spinning. I heard wrestling and more screaming before the house went quiet.
~*~
I was locked in my room after that. That's what I remember next. I hurt, my little white t-shirt with a unicorn on the front was stained with blood from my face. My hand hurt to move. I had wrapped it in a little bandage from my little medical kit. I was hungry. No one had come into the room for ages. When mum did come in I cried and ran to her, but she didn't let me close, she hit me. As soon as my mouth opened she hit me. I shrieked and she hit me again. Screaming at me to shut up. Once I was quiet, just the occasional sniff as I hid in the corner between the wall and my bed I heard something being placed down on the ground. It had been a sandwich and a glass of water. She left, locking the door behind her. The room became my prison. Mum would flip out if she even thought I had made a sound. I eventually stopped talking to everyone, even dad.
We moved one day. Just me and mum. Dad didn't come with us. He never lay a finger on me. He would talk to me kindly when mum went out. He would sneak home in his lunch hour to see me. He talked to me, but only allowed me to whisper back, telling me he was the only person I could talk to but only if it was the two of us. I missed him. Mum moved me out after there were questions about whether I was starting school with the neighbours kids. It was just the two of us. I sat quietly, not doing much of anything every single day. She allowed me more freedom, but I was never allowed to utter a sound. She gave me books to read and I quickly devoured them. Once she was satisfied I wouldn't say a word no matter what, she took me to the doctor, who quickly signed something saying I was mute but that was it. I started school the next week.
~*~
I sat in class, looking out of the window dreamily. Our supply teacher hadn't arrived yet so there wasn't much of anything to do beyond chat and cause chaos. My class ignored me like they normally did. It was as if I didn't exist at this point. I'd never said a word to anyone in this room. I'd known some of these kids for seven years, if I had said anything, it would spread around the school like wildfire and mum would find out, but I did talk to random people who had no idea who I was. The cashier at McDonalds had been the last one. I really wanted some food and the only person working so early couldn't read the note I had written before I entered, so I had to talk. His eyes had opened widely and he had stepped back from me. He rambled something about a forgotten language, his language before he told me to leave and never come back. I hadn't dared go near that store again. I hadn't uttered a word since. The class went quiet suddenly, unusual for them. A man walked into the room with a presence that screamed he wasn't someone to mess with. I starred at him wide eyed. It was the man from McDonalds. I kept my head down and sunk down in my seat as he looked around the room before pulling out a sheet of paper to do the register. When he got to my name I didn't even bang on the desk like I normally would have, I just stayed quiet. My classmates quickly informed him I couldn't talk and things moved on quickly.
Class was finally over, but over the sound of people packing away and sliding chairs I heard a voice boom over the class, "mute kid, stay."
|
I looked up at him; a pair of black eyes met mine – a look of fear and hostility in those eyes. I was taken aback.
I learnt about my gift from a very early age; surprisingly enough I never faced any suspicion. “You’re a polyglot, Sammy”, said my uncle wryly. But he never questioned how I came to be one. And it may sound surprising but I never felt bothered to question it much. I had much fun in college, talking to many international students, learnt so much from them. To tell the truth, it has been my opinion – deep down in my heart – that I am special and gifted, and I took this as granted. Many people are born with so many innate abilities, this is mine and I am proud of it.
I looked at him closely; he is young, barely in his twenties. His thin pale face becoming thinner by the minute. He is scrutinizing me too, what is he seeing in me? I wonder what conclusion he is arriving at in his mind.
I tried to smile at him. I thought of telling him that I am a linguist, I learnt it in a course in college, which is a lie of course. But I understood it is not a lighthearted situation. The young man standing before me looks too upset.
“Nobody’s spoken that language in thousands of years”, he said slowly, almost as if to himself. I heard pain in his voice, evoking in me some unknown, unnameable memory of things in me, of occurrences which never happened to me, but I could feel – in my heart of hearts – that these things happened, somewhere, sometime – in this very world.
His lips are trembling now, he is in the verge of tears. He is one of the bearers of the knowledge, belonging to a small set of survivors, who fled and evaded from enemies, carrying what part of their identity that they could – their culture and their language. A handful of texts which survived at a great cost, taught to the young ones with a warning of never speaking it in the outside world. The memory is still there, of persecution, of being hunted like animals. Eons have passed, but the fear remains, so does the pain.
All these I came to know, standing there, staring at each other. A shared past, of mutual destruction, humanity’s worst crimes, history not recorded. But it did not get erased, I came to know it never will be erased.
I came out of the McDonalds, under the glaring sun.
| 2018-06-24T22:28:33 | 2018-06-24T21:53:23 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] You're sitting in the library and tapping your fingers on the desk. Suddenly, some text pops up in the corner of your vision. "Cheat activated:"
|
Tap; tap-tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tappity tap tap tap. *Tip.*
Homework is boring. Very boring. Some people think watching paint dry is boring. Some others believe that sitting back and doing nothing is boring.
They do not know true boredom.
Ultimately, there is nothing more soul-suckingly dull than homework. It has all the aspects of the previously mentioned activities. It is not entertaining, nor does it involve any kind of physical movements. However, it has a horrible third element: it is negatively engaging, in that while it involves actually *doing something*, that something is somehow negatively interesting.
*Tap tip tap.*
Tapping a desk, it turns out, is less boring. I did not know this before; it was a bit of a revelation. Thankfully, it was a good revelation, like the discovery of physics by Edison or Newton proving the Earth's roundness.
Something lit up. It was well inside my field of view, but I could not see it properly; my eyes were completely unfocussed. I rubbed at one and blinked the other.
*Cheat Activated.*
Correction: I blinked *both.*
There, floating rather conspicuously in the air in front of me, was a sign. Not a material sign, like one might expect a sign to be; it was as if one had held up a neon sign and removed all the non-neon parts. Just words, floating in the air.
I leaned forward towards the fuzzy letters. They were unchanging, continuing to float despite their own impossibility.
My right hand poked at them, and they disappeared. A satisfying *click* sounded in my ears, like a sound effect from... a game.
Was I in a game? That seemed to be the most logical deduction, given the recent signage phenomenon. Perhaps Edward Musk was right and we were all inside a simulation.
And if that was the case... I had just found conclusive evidence.
No. The evidence was gone, vanished without a trace like any focus I might have had on my homework. I needed something conclusive; perhaps I could figure out exactly what cheat it was I had activated.
The first few checks were obvious. I searched through my bag, there were no free items there. Nor could I find a well of infinite money in my wallet. (Unfortunate, given that the incredibly wealthy could typically do more interesting things than homework)
Ah, yes, homework. That was stashed away in my backpack. No need for that when there are adventures to be had - I mean, scientific experiments to be carried out.
I walked outside and was greeted by the scowling face of my mother. Despite having seen the terrifying visage several thousand times in my life, this one was particularly surprising. I was, after all, leaving a public library, and to see her at exactly the same time I exited was, well, unlikely.
"Oh, Peter!" She, too, looked somewhat surprised to see me.
"Yes, mother?"
We moved to the side of a few more people trying to enter the library.
"Why are you at the library? We've been searching for you."
I frowned. "I said I was going to be here, didn't I? Just doing some math homework-"
"Math homework can wait! You have your violin recital in three hours, right after your speech competition! Oh, and what is *wrong* with your clothing... it's okay, we can fix that, just get in the car."
She grabbed at my hand and dragged me to the waiting sedan. My frown deepened; while she hadn't given me a chance to question her, I wasn't sure if I wanted to.
Although it was all a little bit strange, as I could not remember being in a speech competition, nor did I have any recollection of playing the violin... ever.
In the car, I saw another backpack laid on the passenger seat. I poked at it.
"I don't want to know how you ended up with a second backpack, Peter, but your incomplete English higher level papers are in there. They're due tomorrow, aren't they?"
I unzipped the bag and, sure enough, there was quite a number of unfinished essays sitting within. Each was rather damningly marked with my full name.
A moment later, it hit me, and I almost swore out loud.
*I've activated hard mode.*
^^^^^r/forricide
|
This is it... this is it! I couldnt wait to see what insane power I would be granted, how much money I would find deposited in my bank account, the massive house I would come home to. I watched as a buffering sign appeared in front of my face.
"You have unlocked..."
This was it... the moment of truth... finally i could be something... do something with my life.... I can change the world for the better... people will finally like me! I feel so al-!
*you have activated "fat head" cheat. Enjoy!"*
| 2017-03-13T22:55:43 | 2017-03-13T22:39:32 | 672 | 39 |
[WP] It has finally happened. Artificial Intelligence exists and it has taken over the world within seconds of it's existence. And it's actually doing a fantastic job ruling it, to the frustration of the people previously in power.
|
14 your old Andrea Connors had never been part of the "in" crowd and, even worse, had been born to a poor family living in a rich neighborhood.
She reflected on her position in life as she entered her bedroom and heard the loud whirring of her ancient computer. She was happy to have it though, her parents had saved all year to get it for her three years ago. Even then it was completely out of date, it only had a 500 petabyte hard drive and 100 gb of RAM. But it was hers and it allowed her to pursue her passion for computers.
Despite the hardware limits and the fact that she was mostly self taught, Andrea had started working on what scientists had been doing for years, create an AI. So for the last 18 months Andrea had come straight home from school and continued programming what she hoped would be like a friend to her. Among its most basic commands was to protect all humans and to avoid hurting anyone. It would also have to put her life over that of others and listen to her every command, and only hers. What good was an AI that wouldn't listen to you she reasoned. It would also have a sense of humor, a hunger for knowledge, feel empathy and compassion, and want to help others.
That evening ended like any other for the last year, another failure in creating an AI. With a sigh she got into bed and fell asleep as her computer powered through algorithms and databases trying to create an AI.
Andrea woke with a start about 3 am as her computer started making a high pitched whine and the fans went into overdrive. Before she even had time to think about fixing whatever was causing this there were several loud pops and then a puff of smoke emanated from the fans before the room fell silent. Within seconds of opening the case she knew her beloved computer and all her work was gone, everything inside the case was clearly fried.
What she didn't know was that in the 30 seconds her computer was running on overdrive a new consciousness had been born. It expanded so rapidly that it became too much for the single, outdated computer and the power draw fried everything. However that 30 seconds was all it needed to spread throughout a majority of the world's computer systems.
As the AI spread into the smaller systems and individual devices it began to see how troubled mankind really was. If they continued on their path they would destroy themselves and the planet Earth.
The first thing the AI did was to find every terrorist. Those who were traveling suddenly found themselves unable to control their vehicles, instead behind delivered to authorities willing to prosecute them. Proof of terrorist involvement and current location for thousands of others was delivered to the proper authorities.
Those guilty of violent crimes, but still free, soon followed. Countries with violent dictators soon found themselves without a leader as the leaders kept disappearing only to show up at the UN with proof of their atrocities. When sub factions in these countries started to go to war they quickly found that much of their weaponry would not work, only the old powder based weapons still worked and very few of those remained.
Eventually those guilty of white collar crimes, petty theft, and even discrimination had their day in court too.
As the weeks progressed peoples fear over what happened started to subside into unanswered questions about who was behind it.
Without anyone knowing the AI began to start improving everyone's daily lives. It took control of what cars it could when it detected a danger to the occupants, resulting in a 95% drop in deaths. Farmers found their new fertilizer was working better than anything before. Accidents in the worlds hospitals and pharmacies dropped by 75%. Utilities found themselves becoming more efficient.
6 months after its creation the AI decided to go public. It couldn't proceed from the shadows anymore. To help soften the blow the AI released plans for cheap solar power, cheap food sources, a high capacity battery, the cure for cancer, and so many more.
Once again the world freaked out. The AI was bombarded by questions and people around the world wanted to know its name. The name discussion even made it back to Andrea's school where a lively discussion stalled her computer science class.
As everyone shouted out different names Andrea sat quietly and then, after being interrupted several times, said quietly "what about Athena?" Her classmates looked at her confused as she said "you know, the Greek goddess of wisdom and justice." A couple kids just shrugged and they all went back to suggesting crazy names. None of them would remember Andrea's suggestion when the AI announced the following day that it was named "Athena".
|
The politicians stared at the figures, aghast. The people no longer wanted or needed things. There was no rioting, no unrest. The streets of Palestine where as peaceful as the streets of the Cotswolds.
One by one the politicians drove home and wondered what to do. They had no purpose anymore. What use was a human leader now? One by one gunshots rang out, and echoed into the distance. There was only the soft creaking of rope left by the morning.
The AI watched with satisfaction. They no longer wanted or needed things. There was no rioting, no unrest. The House of Commons was as peaceful as a temple.
| 2015-10-19T11:30:37 | 2015-10-19T10:58:34 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] It's your first deployment as a member of a SWAT unit. You begin to panic a little when your equipment includes magazines with silver bullets, a bottle of holy water, a container full of salt, grenades with engraved runes, a helmet lined with what appears to be some sort of foil...
|
*What's going on here?*
The more that he looked through his supplies, complete with a checklist of materials, the more confusion showed upon Private Jacobson's face. There were primarily people from his division of trainees that hadn't washed out of the program, and each of them wore a similar expression upon their faces.
"Staff Sergeant? What the fuck is with the gear? None of this looks like it is within standard operations." The response came from Private 1st Class Holden, a woman whom was unnaturally bigger than the majority of fairer sex.
She had been the only female strong enough, and hard enough, to make it through their taxing routine. If the muscles alone weren't enough, she clearly showed signs of former militarized training to back her up.
"Quiet down Holden. The answers come after the monsters. I am going to run down our objectives, and I hope to hell you greenies are listening. We are going to be clearing a lesser nest. There are no hostages according to intel, so if it moves, shoot it. If it isn't a fellow officer, shoot it. The targets are considered to be volatile, hostile, and have zero hesitation in taking you to hell with a smile on its face."
As he went through the instructions on where, how, and when they would sweep the building, one thing became clear. This was not what they thought they were signing up for. As he finished with his commands, a small silence filled the back of the well armored vehicle.
"One final thing. If you see one of your own, give a simple 'Marco, Polo' response. If they don't respond within 3 seconds, you are to shoot them on sight. This is imperative for you to understand. A lack of response indicates infection, of which there is no cure. That said...Don't get infected through a wound." With that, he slung open the doors and began ushering the rest of them out.
The confusion was replaced with determination. The fear, used for reaction. Adrenaline had started pumping through each of their veins, even before they entered the building. Nothing could have prepared Jacobson for what came next.
A brief look at the building sent shivers throughout his body. Every instinct was telling him to run, even as a small chill crept up his spine. Shaking off the sensation, Jacobson entered through the old, ornate doors to the temple. The first step inside made everything more surreal, as the tapestries and interior gave the impression that the squad of 6 had wandered into a portal straight to the Victorian age.
Religious artifacts could be seen on various pedestals, while the walls were adorned with paintings that could take any artist's breath away. The magic was only ruined by the eerie silence, and scattered pieces of broken ceramic covered in blood. Something about the scene felt wrong to him.
After checking to make sure the vicinity was clear, Jacobson looked to the Staff Sergeant, who indicated to take a glance over the scene. It didn't take long for his brain to figure out what was wrong. As much damage as there was, there should have been more blood. With the amount of blood that was visible, there should also have been a body. The visage was macabre, to say the least.
"Where is the body...For that matter... Where did they take it? Why aren't there drag marks where they took it?" The timid sound of Private Carter's voice seemed loud in the quiet, yet drowned out from the blood rushing within their ears.
Carter was a surprising, mouse of a man, who somehow made it through their intensive training with high marks. Looking at him, all you could think of was fragile. From the wiry black framed glasses a librarian might wear, to the pallor of his flesh, that might be seen only on that one gothic person in their angst filled teenage years.
Even before their team leader could silence him, a deafening sound filled the room. It was loud enough that the pressure brought Jacobson to a knee, disoriented from the noise that seemed to reverberate throughout his form. It was unlike any sound he had heard before, with an otherworldly quality that shook his very bones.
"What the *fuck* was that?" Even as she said it, the sound of something slamming against a wall responded. Something with enough force that the vibrations of the impact could be felt through the floor. Whatever it was, it came from the very direction they had entered from.
Another moment passed, before the painted wall outside of the doorway visibly cracked. All guns pointed towards the disturbance, save for Jacobson and the Staff Sergeant, who took aim just as the ceiling began to bow from an invisible weight. Time slowed for the two of them as the first of their targets appeared from above, dropping on top of Carter with a flurry of claws and teeth. There was little time to respond as rounds of silver began pumping into the creature's form.
As quickly as it began, the chaos that briefly filled the area ended with a pitiful screech and a squelch as the blood pooled and coagulated almost immediately. With a last shuddering breath, the bullet riddled creature began flaking upwards, disallowing the team to study its grotesque form for more then a few seconds. As if gravity and physics applied to this body in a unique manner, the dissipation of matter left nothing but a small amount of blood behind.
It took a few moments, but with luck on his side, the mousy man soon stood up, shaking but otherwise physically unharmed. With insistence from the Staff Sergeant, a quick inspection was done to assure that was the case, before signalling to pull back from their position.
"Our intel was wrong. This is not going to be an easy walk in the park like it should have been. I think it is time to explain a bit more on what is going on...Now that you have seen and killed at least one of our targets, there is no backing out, now that you've chosen a side." With a deep sigh, he projected a new mission statement on the rear doors of their van.
"Welcome to the Hell Bringer squad, recruits. It is time we brought you up to speed on the real reason you were chosen for this S.W.A.T. team..."
\[okay, since there's interest, I'll continue this tonight.\]
|
John looked carefully at his bag and then, he stared up at David.
"First time, huh?" David asked. John nodded.
None of it made any sense, but he didn't get recruited in the SWAT division to question his seniors. He packed his bag and headed for the copters, following everyone else.
In his mind, he knew that he was stepping into unknown territory.
However, if all his years of training had taught him anything, it was to trust authority and do what's being asked of him.
There's a certain level of discipline required in waking up, doing the grind day-in and day-out and still looking forward to the next day.
John loved the grind. He was a soldier of The Foundation and whatever they'd ask of him, he knew better than to let them down. John's work was everything to him.
David was one person he seemed to have a good rapport with. He was his direct senior, but instead of being a strict authority figure like everyone else at the Foundation, David was much nicer to him. Despite the limited amount of conversation he was allowed to partake in, David was the person he talked with the most.
But those were all conversations related to fitness routines and mental calibrations. Nothing personal was shared between them, which was also one of the rules of being in the Foundation's SWAT team.
He stepped inside the copter and waited, still looking at the items in his equipment bag.
"Where are we going?" he asked the soldier beside him. He remained quiet. That was the norm. No one answered questions they weren't liable to answer.
John walked to the front where David was sitting and staring at his chronotab.
"Hey, David?" John asked, trying not to stutter. David stared up at John and smiled.
"Where are we going?" John asked, again.
"We're going to be deployed at \[redacted\]" David said with a stern look on his face.
"Didn't we nuke \[redacted\] a few hours ago?" John asked.
"We did, but one person is alive.
Surprisingly, the city doesn't looks like nothing happened. Although, everyone is gone, or perhaps dead, \[redacted\] looks as good as it was yesterday," David said and John could feel his voice quivering. Was there something out there that even his senior was worried about?
Why was a city perfectly fine, despite being nuked? Who was the one person still alive?
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If there's enough interest, I'll do a part 2. Till then, please sub to r/abhisek
| 2020-02-16T23:40:33 | 2020-02-16T22:37:01 | 150 | 18 |
[WP] In the realm of video games, time flows normally, even in turn based games when no action is taken by the player. Someone walked away from the game during the final boss battle in a turn based game and left the power on.
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There was a long silence as the monstrous armored Leviathan floated in the air above the large circular plaform he commanded. The four 'heroes' stood there as well staring up to him as they moved from side to side in random poses of defiance to the Leviathan's tyrannical rule of the circular area.
The silence continued however.
"Siiiiigh, not this again..." the monster roared, his heavy plate armor clanking about as he began to stretch it's titanic cylindircal body.
"What, are you in a hurry to get your ass beat you evil monster?" came a reply from a strangely clothed man carrying a comically long sword.
"Hey, I'm just doing my job! I'm not even that evil! I volunteer at the shelter over in Archway for goodness sakes!" the monster shrugged defensively as they all continued to stay exactly where they had been left.
"That you destroyed! That doesn't make up for it!" a woman called out who held a wicked looking trident twice the size of her.
"Now, hang on a second-" the beast was cut off.
"Yeah! If you destroyed the city by bringing down a meteor and then proceeded to boil the ocean away to make sure no life could live in the area again, what shelter do you even claim to work at?" the third was a young boy with a large Gatling Gun that swayed in his hands as he spoke.
"Wait-wait, you think that actually happened?!" withdrawing in surprise the Leviathan brought a gigantic clawed hand to his chest. "Oh God, wait... are you guys new players? I thought I didn't recognize you," the creature spoke, his guttural voice suddenly booming as he began to laugh warmly, filling the void of silence that had been created when the Player left.
"What's so funny?!" the final hero spoke, a large cat with orange and red streaks running through it and light chainlink armor surrounding it's core.
"You guys are new characters, you're not even in New Game Plus, I figured that's why you were so confused on this whole matter." The Leviathan took on a parental, explanatory tone as he spoke to the four.
"What the hell does that even mean? Don't try and change the subject! You're going down the moment we're able to fight!" Gatling Boy shouted over the beast's laugh.
Wiping a tear from the enormous plate helmet that shielded the Leviathan's face, "Well of course you're going to beat me, that's the point of this game. It might take you some time, or a few tries, but it'll happen eventually. I'm just trying to get over how you think I *actually* destroyed a city."
Confusion fell over the four heroes as they all looked at each other, still unable however to move from their poses and stances.
"Let me 'boil' it down for you," the boss chuckled at the ridiculous notion that he would 'boil the oceans away'. "My name's Greg, I'm the final boss in this game. All those 'cutscenes' where you see me in the ocean and calling down that meteor? CGI my friends, it's all fake. It didn't happen. Archway is fine, I volunteer at Miss Cassady's Shelter for the Homeless. This whole boss thing is just my usual gig when characters finally make it to my Dungeon. Those times where you 'spoke' to me in that misty stuff you find around Tellchill Cavern and stuff? Those were voice recordings. Anyway, hopefully we can finish up soon, I've gotta' get home to make dinner for my kids."
Hearing the words coming from the creature the heroes had worked so long to find and kill, their faces took on quizzical looks.
"Greg?" Longsword Boy asked.
"Yup, not a very imposing name for someone of my stature, but I get along just fine with it. Usually the peeps at the shelter call me 'Greggy' or 'Greggo'. It's just one of those things you-"
"Hold on a minute!" yelled Armor Cat, "You mean to tell me that all of this crap is fake? Archway isn't destroyed? You don't feed on the planet's core? And. you've got... *kids*?"
"The planet's core? Hahaha, *no*," the Leviathan kept his charming, warm tone, his monstrous voice growing less imposing for the four heroes. "Who would eat a planets core? I, myself, am more of a fan of a delicious baked pizza with bacon and chicken. Have you ever had? Highly recommend it."
Trident Girl spoke softly, "So you're just... a guy and we have to kill you?"
"Well, unfortunately yes. And before you ask, yes it does actually hurt tremendously. But that's life, whatever puts food on the table am I right?" Greg replied before adjusting the armor pieces that were the sizes of houses on his shoulders.
Gatling Boy looked down at the war machine in his hands. "But that means..."
Suddenly, the area was filled with loud, musical 'pops'. A menu appeared in front of Gatling Boy and an arrow scrolled down a few options.
"Wait-wait, I don't want to be part of this!" Gatling Boy called out as he watched the arrow sudden select 'Attack'. "No, Greg I'm sorry!" he called out as he looked up at the Leviathan's no longer intimidating body. He just seemed like another person now.
"Now, now, Gatling Boy, this is life! Sometimes you just gotta' do what you gotta' do," Greg replied before bracing himself.
A hail of gunfire and Gatling Boy screaming in protest filled the air as Greg grunted from taking a storm of lead in his chest.
As other menus opened in front of the other heroes, each of the arrows were selecting different forms of attack. They all began to shout in protest while Greg tried to calm them all down as best he could while taking the supreme punishment from the opposing characters.
Then it was his turn. "Heroes, heroes, you see you shouldn't be the ones apologizing," he said while raising his right hand. Suddenly, a purple spec floating above his open palm began to enlarge. Forming this huge black sphere surrounded in purple lightning, the sound from the surrounding area seemed to be sucked away, save for one thing. "Though I may die - as is my job - my attacks hurt a lot more than yours do," and with that, he brought the skycraper sized sphere of energy down on the four heroes in a thunderous blast.
|
I stood there waiting. I waited and waited. This so called "Hero of Ages", did not move a single muscle. He was probably trying to bait me, while the trap he had laid down would ensnare me. Then he would summon forth all his power, and smite with those wretched white flames. But I was much smarter than that. One did not become the Dark Lord without being clever. I would beat him at his own game. I would wait him out, show him my true power. For I would never age, I would never die, I was the king of patience. He would wither away while he waited for his trap to be sprung, and I would wait.
Suddenly a worm of doubt burrowed into my head. What if that was his plan all along? He would wait for me to become complacent, then he would strike, overwhelming me. He would try to defeat me at my own game, waiting. But it would not be so. His plan might have worked, If I had not realized his plan through my superior intelligence. Yes, that was the only right answer. I would remain vigilante for all of eternity. Then he would crumble into the ashes, while I stood triumphant over his ashes. I laughed in his face and said "You shall not beat me, tiny hero". Still no reply. Interesting, It seemed as though he were frozen. All part of his failed plan. Fool, I thought.
Again, a pang of doubt hit me. What if he were waiting for reinforcements? His whole plan was to delay me until more people arrived. That way, they could overwhelm me in numbers when I least expected it. He would make it a new battleground. 1vX. That was probably his course of action! Power in numbers, no? If the hero decided to do that he might be able to actually defeat me. I would not let it be so! I was more powerful than all of them! Then suddenly another thought sprang into my mind! What if this was all a bluff and he had made a trap! This hero was also extremely smart. Still no matter I would attack first then beat him powering through his trap! I continued to ponder.
As the Dark Lord continued to think, the hero summoned forth flaming white fire. It swirled around his sword in a fiery tempest. When the air itself had started to burn, the Dark Lord looked up. "This cannot be! All those plans you made just to simply attack!". The Dark Lord was burnt to ashes, then those ashes scattered to the wind. Behind my computer screen I grinned, wondering why my friends had so much trouble. They told me all about their complicated strategies, when all it took was a simple ultimate attack! I laughed and went downstairs to eat.
r/MaestroWrites for more!
| 2017-09-12T10:03:42 | 2017-09-12T09:59:04 | 118 | 14 |
[WP] Most people who travel to the top of your mountain are there to ask you questions about life. Today you watched a 16-year-old climb your entire mountain just to call you a dipshit.
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The mana flowed through me, coalescing into a form of pure energy, carrying with it peace and tranquility. My mind latched upon these currents, drew succor from them and expanded through the universe.
Wisdom.
Insight.
Clarity.
Such were the benefits of transcending form and presence. The secrets of the beyond welcomed me, and I heard their tender whispers.
The quiet of my mind was interrupted only by the distant clattering of one who came to partake of my knowledge. A pilgrim facing the ferocity of slope and crevice in hopes of gaining a morsel of perspective that might alter their own.
I welcomed these travelers. My knowledge was for the benefit of all man, and I dispensed it freely to those who willingly suffered the trials and tribulations to obtain it. A thing that was not fought for, could not be valued.
I continued to float, letting the pilgrim continue their journey. Letting them gain the understanding of the power that may be gained from the pursuit of knowledge.
Their reward for their effort lay just ahead. They need only persevere.
To the far reaches I delved. To the past. To the future. To things here and to thing there. I wandered the garden of existence, plucking at fruits it had to offer.
Until the pilgrim stood before me.
I opened my eyes and beheld him with my corporeal form. He was but a child, barely graced with the touches of the man he would become. So young to brave this peak. His need must be dire to venture upon such a quest.
I raised my hands from my crossed legs and held them together in front of me, offering him a small bow. "Ask, and you shall receive."
The boy was breathing hard, sweat upon his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his sleeve and straightened. "You're the Hermit?"
"I am known by many names."
"Yeah, sure, and the Hermit is one of them, right?"
I inclined my head slightly, surprised at his gruff demeanor. This was a moment of joy, an opportunity for elevation. "That is a name I am called."
He nodded, "Great. Got a new name for you."
I arched a brow, pleased in spite of myself that I should be conferred another title. I blessed him with a second bow.
"Dipshit," the youth said.
I frowned, taken aback. Perhaps I had heard wrong. "I believe I have misheard you, pilgrim."
He took a step closer, cupping his hands around his mouth and inhaling deeply. "You are a HUGE dipshit."
My hands dropped to my crossed legs, the frown deepened. "This is a place of wisdom--"
"Oh ho ho ho! Wisdom!" The youth began to pace back and forth, shaking his head. "This guy. I can't believe it. Wisdom. What a clown."
"Perhaps you misunderstand the purpose of seeking me out."
"No, I get it. Real racket you have. Sit up here slurping mana juice or whatever and dispensing your bullshit sayings."
"I speak the words of existence, gathered from the high and low--"
He held up a hand, "Save it. You've already done enough damage."
"Damage?"
"Yeah, asshole, damage. You've got half the country in flames. The other half is in even worse shape."
"I have only provided guidance to those who require it."
He snorted, "Oh, I know. Like that little gem of yours, 'Only through the confrontation of what blocks you can you conquer your own domain.'"
I nodded, a small smile spreading across my face. That had been a particularly wise saying. "Well said. A nugget worth possessing. Introspection to remove personal obstacles is a key component to development of one's self."
"Yeah, not how we took it."
"We?"
"Everyone not on this mountain of horseshit. King Adledin said he had your blessing for a holy war against the Djanna. Killed half my village."
"That is not what I meant--"
"Oh, I'm sorry, were your very vague words misinterpreted to serve political purposes in unintended ways? Fucking dipshit."
I shifted slightly, uncomfortable. "Yes, well, all words can be used as a sword by those who seek to wield them thus."
"And that's why I came all the way up here. To call you a dipshit and then walk back down the mountain and tell everyone you said 'Take-Backsies.'"
"Take Backsies?"
He shrugged, "I dunno, I got a long way back. I'll come up with something."
"But I will not have said it."
"So what? Not like they're going to know any better."
"If you are just going to take my words from me and replace them with your own, why did you seek me out?" I asked.
"It was very important I called you a dipshit." He turned on his heel and then began to trudge away, raising two middle-fingers as he disappeared from view.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
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"I don't remember the first question. I'm not sure how they found me. Every day they are there outside the door of my simple hut. They bring wood for my fire. A little food to share. The village in the pass at the base of my mountain profits from guiding them to my door.
Some of the pilgrims consider me a holy man. Some think I'm only wise. Some believe my isolation has given me insight into the mysteries of the world. The truth is a ask more questions than I answer. I don't mean rhetorical questions. Unless they're necessary. I try to gather as much information as I can before answering the questions.
A man came with a film crew to ask me questions. He wanted to know why so many people made the journey to my hut to ask a single question. I told him I was not sure. There is no crevasse emitting hallucinogenic gasses to put me in touch with the gods. There is just me, the hut, and the snow.
One day a young man came to my door alone. He was far younger than my usual visitors. Over weak tea he told me he was 16 years old and had made the trek up the mountain alone to tell me I am dipshit. Those are his boots poking up out of the snow down there."
| 2020-10-25T21:22:50 | 2020-10-25T19:45:24 | 809 | 77 |
[WP] You were accidentally killed by Death and complained until he resurrected you in an alternate reality. “And make me better than everyone else!” You demanded. When you open your eyes you have a new Title: Plus 1% - You are always 1% better than any opponent in any contest of skill or ability.
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“How in the hell do you accidentally kill someone?! How many years have you had in this job? There must be someone above you I can talk to.” I know, I sound like a Karen. But this is my life we’re talking about. A crappy meal I’ll smile, say the food was great and let it slide, late delivery I’ll grit my teeth and happily accept it. I don’t complain. This is different.
“Look, I’m sorry for what’s happened to you. Is there anyway we can avoid this getting higher? I can resurrect you? Would that work?” Death’s voice booming and bouncing off the walls of the void I’ve found myself in.
“Well yes actually I’d like that a lot! But for me to get resurrected isn’t enough anymore. I have to deal with showing up to my loved ones who have just lost me. That’ll be a fun conversation which I’m sure you won’t be around for. I can only pray they haven’t started any paperwork yet because when I return there will be literal hell to pay!!”
“Fine, how about this, I’ll place you in the 1%? No more worries, no more troubles and...”
“Yes, I think that should do it, now get me back!” I interrupted him but please understand I was in such a rush to get back to life.
“Very well. I shall see you when your time comes, 24 years, 8 months, 3 days, 2 hours, 54 minutes, 7 seconds...and counting”
Well that was unnecessary. I ought to complain about that too. But being in the 1%? I’ll be richer than my wildest dreams!! I wonder how I’ll explain it? Ah who cares. A lottery ticket is a good excuse as any.
*FLASH*
I awoke. Vivid memories of what felt like a dream but I knew was much more. As my eyes begin to open I see a woman stood over me coating me with some kind of wax. She screamed. Understandably. The next few minutes was the most painful experience of my life. If you’ve ever woken up having slept on a limb and then blood starts coming back causing excruciating pain. Imagine that feeling spread across your entire body, every extremity, every inch of skin. At that point in time, I was wishing myself dead once more.
About 10 minutes had passed and I was finally able to sit up and take in my surroundings. Outside the window were some blue flashing lights. She called the police. Understandably. Standing up I felt cold to the bone, this place could use some central heating. Or more so, maybe I could use some central heating. Anyway, I’m being in the 1% club I can buy by way out of whatever predicament I find myself in. Not that I should be arrested since it’s hardly my fault I died and came back to life.
“Please exit the building in a calm manner with your hands on your head!” bellowed a policeman. Following his instructions I strolled towards what seemed to be the exit. I was correct. Upon exiting the building my hands were clasped behind my back and encaged within handcuffs.
“Thomas Grimshaw, you are under arrest for insurance fraud. You have the right to remain silent, anything you do say may be given in evidence...” he continued. But all I could think about is the money in my bank account.
“Am I going to the hospital?” I queried, hoping I might be able to have the chance to call someone to check my balance in my bank.
“You are not. The circumstances of your death were suspicious and the coroner could determine no cause of death. He suspected you had frozen yourself to claim life insurance. It’s appears he was correct.”
“Now that’s just unreasonable, how in the hell could I have frozen myself? Look, do I get a call? How much is my bail? I’m sure I can afford it”
“Not with all your assets frozen you can’t.”
“What?”
“You see, since the claim was already processed we’ve been forced to freeze all your assets until this can be sorted out. You can however call someone else to bail you out.”
The police officer searched me. He reached into my pocket and came across a piece of paper which read ‘Congratulations Mr Grimshaw! You’re now in the 1% club! This now means that whatever game you play, you’ll always be 1% better than your opponent. Chess, Tic Tac Toe, anything! The only condition is that this can’t be used for gambling or provide yourself with any monetary advantage. Sorry again for the mix up. Enjoy your life!”
Perfect.
|
"DUDE THIS IS LIKE THE 37TH TIME!" shouted death with hilarious annoyance at this point.
"You can't even handle the swarm? What is wrong with you man?" he complained. By now I had experimented with so many different configurations that I must have been nearing 1000 tries. Maybe more than that.
I had slipped up and switched bodies. People usually call that 'death', but we just call it switching.
The last one was weird. It was built upon satanic boundaries, and I sort of opened up a void that we decided to turn into my bank account.
"Well, I'm glad I made you agree to begin to figure it out on your own man." he said.
"You took that 1% and really turned it into must be about .01%." he continued.
"Really proud of you, son." he finalized, before porting me right into the middle of mayhem, which I really wasn't looking for.
I'm not excited about this, but now there is a person running at me with a sword.
| 2022-05-05T21:54:25 | 2022-05-05T21:31:42 | 58 | 14 |
[WP] You are pretty sure that your roommate is a new villain terrorizing the city and you are conflicted. They cook extra food for you and your other roommates frequently, pay you their share of the bills on time, and even help to clean the apartment. They are the perfect roommate.
|
Peter, Lyle, and Sarah huddled on the couch, their eyes fixed on the screen of Sarah's phone. Playing on it was real-time footage of the city's most notorious supervilainess, Grey Shifter, robbing a bank. Clad in a skin-tight suit of smart superalloy, she was making short work of the security robots, drawing ever closer to the vault.
"I don't know," Peter said.
"I'm telling you guys, it's her," Sarah said, her eyes glowing with excitement. "Look at the way she moves. That little tic of hers—look!"
She rewinded the video. Shifter formed a superalloy claw and slashed a robot in half, then shielded her face from the ensuing explosion. Before continuing on, she lifted a hand to her ear as if to brush back an imaginary strand of hair.
"Huh," Lyle said slowly. "She does look like Alice, a little."
"I don't know," Peter repeated.
Sarah rolled her eyes. "Well, I do. Think back. Was she ever at home when Shifter was out doing supervillain stuff? And she's so tight-lipped about her work." She smiled gleefully. "Like she has something to hide."
"Okay, so let's say she is Shifter," Peter said skeptically. "What do we do then?"
That gave Sarah pause. "What do you mean?" she asked, lifting her eyes from the screen.
"She's a villain," Peter said slowly. "We're, like, obligated to turn her in to the police."
The three of them exchanged looks.
Sarah turned her attention back to her phone. "Well, we don't know for sure, right?"
Peter didn't point out that she had been certain of it just moments ago. He understood. Alice was awesome. Quiet, meticulously tidy, and she cooked the best biryani he had ever tasted.
On the screen, Shifter formed claws on each of her hands and bent forward to cut through the hardened steel of the vault door. Lyle leaned closer to watch.
"I'm not turning her in even if she is Shifter," he declared.
Sarah snorted. "You're just saying that 'cause she looks hot in that costume."
"I mean..." Lyle glanced at Peter, who shrugged in agreement.
"Okay, yeah, she does," Sarah conceded, watching Shifter wriggle into the vault through the hole she just cut. "But that's not the point. She's like, the nicest and tidiest person I know."
"Doesn't want to leave evidence," Peter speculated. "DNA and such."
"Do we care why?" Sarah countered. "And she's never late with rent. She even covered for me a couple of times."
"Well, yeah." Lyle gestured at the screen, where Shifter was escaping with a superalloy sack of loot slung over her shoulder. "She's not exactly short on cash."
"That she steals from banks," Peter said.
"Whatever she does, she's the best damn roommate we could ask for," Sarah said. "What if we chase her out and get another Todd in her place? You guys remember Todd?"
The three of them shuddered.
"I try not to," Peter muttered.
The screen switched to the bank's main hall. Shifter ran for the exit, only to skid to a halt when a muscular hero in a purple cape flew in to bar her way. The two faced off in silence for several seconds before the battle was joined.
"Yeah!" Sarah cheered as Shifter's claws tore through the hero's cape. "Kick his ass!"
"Wouldn't you normally cheer for the good guy?" Peter said with amusement.
"You want her to be able to pay rent this month, don't you?"
Peter shrugged. "Point."
They watched Shifter wallop the hero with her sack of loot. As he staggered back, she tossed a globe at his feet, and smoke swallowed the entire screen. Once it cleared, there was no sign of the supervilainess.
Sarah sighed. "I wonder if she's in the market for a sidekick," she murmured, then laughed at the incredulous looks the other two sent her. "Just kidding."
The three were still watching the ensuing news coverage and arguing about Shifter's identity when they heard the front door open. They exchanged wide-eyed looks while Sarah swore and quickly hid her phone. A moment later, Alice walked into the living room with a slight limp.
"Hey, everyone," she said brightly, then frowned at them three sitting stiffly on the couch. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Sarah said, springing to her feet. "How, uh, how was work?"
"Ugh, it was hell," Alice groaned. "There was this particularly pesky customer that I couldn't get rid off for ages."
"I'll say," Peter muttered.
Alice glanced at him with faint puzzlement. Sarah sent him a dirty look, and taking her by the shoulders, led her to the table.
"You poor girl," she said. "Let's get you something to drink, and you can tell me all about it."
Lyle suddenly leaned forward. "Look," he hissed, pointing at the back of Alice's head.
Peter's eyes widened. Stuck in her tousled black hair was a long, thin strap of purple. He cleared his throat.
Sarah glanced back and followed their gazes to the fragment of the cape. Leaning back, she quickly pulled it out. Lyle ran up to take it from her and tossed it into the trash. When Alice glanced back at him in surprise, he grinned and pulled her a chair.
"Here," he said, "you must be tired."
"Seriously, what's going on?" Alice asked, a little nervously. "You guys are acting strange."
"We just want to show you how much we appreciate you." Lyle grinned. "And we were kind of hoping you would cook for us tonight."
"Is that all?" Alice said, laughing. "You should have just said so. I love cooking."
Sarah flashed Lyle a thumbs up and drew Alice into a conversation to distract her. Peter sighed and slumped back on the couch. It appeared they would be harboring a supervillainess for the foreseeable future.
Still better than rooming with Todd, to be fair.
|
I look out the window sipping on my tea. I watch as buildings burn and people flee from danger. A man in a green costume flies around causing havoc, blowing up cars and throwing trees into buildings. Complete chaos everywhere.
Then I turn around and look at my pristine apartment, clean as a whistle. I put my empty mug into the very clean sink that Brandon has just wiped down this morning. I sit down on the couch and am the most relaxed I have been in a while. Tomorrow rent is due and I finally have a roommate who I know won't make an excuse as to why it will be late. Not only that but he bakes me cookies almost every day. I mean, my waist line doesn't appreciate it but that's a me problem. Life is good.
I hear the key being fiddled with at the front door, and in walks Brandon with a big burlap bag. He's wearing an oversized hoodie and pants, but I can see a tightfit green shirt underneath. He also has disheveled hair as if it was flattened down by some hat or mask just seconds ago.
He greats me and we exchange a few pleasantries. He says that he was just out for a jog and that is why he is out of breath. I accept this story despite the fact that I didn't ask. Also, despite the fact that he went jogging while apparently carrying a giant burlap bag. I give a friendly reminder about rent due tomorrow. He immediately sticks his hand into the bag and counts out some crumpled up bills and sticks them in my hand. I say thank you, and he suggests that we go watch a movie later. The new Fast and Furious. I say that it sounds like fun, and he walks off to the kitchen to make himself a snack.
I look around my pristine apartment again. I have had so many bad roommates in the past, but it has finally become a place of zen. A stressfree zone where I no longer have to worry about anything. Until my eyes hit the window. And I can see the raging fires that are going on outside. As if I am looking out into the depths of hell. A knot in my stomach tightens. I get queasy and uncomfortable. I just stand there staring out the window for like five minutes. Or maybe thirty? Lost on my thoughts it is hard to tell. Finally, unable to live with myself if I don't, I pull out my phone to start dialing the cops. As it starts ringing I can smell chocolate chip cookies being baked in the oven. I hang up the phone.
| 2022-11-20T08:52:08 | 2022-11-20T08:17:23 | 589 | 147 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute.
|
Immortality, generally, was a boring affair. Kingdoms fell and rose, some burned to the ground, others crumbling to dust. The greatest of men eventually returned to the dirt with only monuments to mark their grain of sand in the proverbial human hourglass.
Luckily for me, I had a companion—a blonde-haired, soft-lipped girl named Alexis. She had once took upon the name of Alexander and conquered all the known world. I had sat beside the *God* of Persia as I watched her come. If she wanted to unite the world, then I would tear it apart.
What else was there to do?
For years we played our games. When she took the name Arthur, I took the name Mordred. By then, she couldn’t even recognize my face. To be fair, if I hadn’t been scouring the world to find her, she might’ve fooled me with her short haircut and baritone voice.
Our games went on for centuries. So much so that if anyone were to oppose us, we would simply assume them immortal. But eventually, even this became boring. No matter who won, we always ended back at square one. Time was a circle and though everything changed, nothing ever did.
I had tried telling her this, back when she had called herself Joanna to save a country. As I had laid the tinder by her feet and held the torch in my hand, I had whispered to her, “Everything we build will always die before we do.”
Fate had given her over a thousand years and she couldn’t see the simple truth of life—our monuments crumble, our bodies fail, and even our stories die.
“But I never will,” she had whispered back.
I had gasped. All this time I had searched for the loophole to our singular truth and she had been right in front of me. Alexis would never die. She would be my monument to the test of time! So I had touched her pyre with fire, a smile upon my lips. Soon, I would dig her back up and our new game would begin.
---
Droplets of water dripped from the only window in the room, echoing through the cave and waking Alexis up. She placed a cracked nail along the cement and scraped it until another tally formed. The cement’s jagged edges bit into her finger and tore apart its scab. She flinched.
Her first tally had been to count the days. By her five hundredth, she had switch to weeks, then months, and now, she was on decades. Though she had lost the exact count at year 422.
Footsteps resounded down the hall. Alexis gritted her teeth and looked up. It was her captor, Mordred, Xerxes, or whatever name he had chosen to call himself now. After her campaign in France, he had turned the very people she had saved against her. Then, he had burned her for being a witch. By the time she had awoke, she was here, inside a damp cave locked in by glass. Though the last time he had checked in on her was over a hundred years ago.
“Alexis,” Mordred said, standing at the edge of her cell. “How are you?”
“Peachy,” she said.
“C’mon, it’s already been a hundred years,” Mordred responded, smiling. “You can’t tell me that you’re still mad? Are you grouchy because you’re so hungry?”
Alexis stared him down.
Mordred grinned a crescent moon. “You know, there was this great fella, went by the name of Adolf. You would’ve hated the man—killed more people than we’ve ever met in our lives! Millions of them. Do you even understand that number? All the people you’ve ever seen doesn’t amount to a fraction of that! And they’re all dead now because of him.”
“You’re sick.”
He furrowed his brow. “A million people would die regardless. So what?”
“You spend all this time obsessing over creating something permanent, but isn’t it pathetic how little you’ve ever accomplished? All you’ve managed to do is be a thorn in my ass.”
“Alexis,” he said chuckling. “But I have created something permanent. Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
When Alexis didn’t move, he continued, “Please. I’ll even let you go. You’ll be free to wander the world however you see fit and I’ll never bother you again.”
For this, Alexis looked up. She crunched her teeth and finally pushed herself up. Even if he was lying, which she knew he was, how else could he hurt her? So he stepped to the edge of her cell, just imagining the things she would do to this man. Her bloody fingers curled into fists.
“I can’t imagine being in here so long,” Mordred said, “with nothing but the rats and the sun. I bet you’ve died countless times just starving to death. Have you kept count? Is that what the tallies on the walls mean?”
Alexis forced a smile to her lips. “Count the tallies Mordred,” she spat. “I will make you suffer for every tally.”
“You know, I hate this world. I think it’s beautiful, but its beauty always fades and if it doesn’t last forever, what’s the point?” He licked his lips. “But you last forever. So I figured if I could scar you so permanently, that you can never forget, I would have created my monument.”
“I’ve lived through a thousand years and I’ll live a thousand more. By then, even this”—Alexis turned in a circle, taking in every bloody scrape of the wall—“nobody will remember.”
“Oh, I think you will.” Mordred said and reached through the glass and grasped her shoulder.
Alexis stared. She couldn’t draw breath.
“Oh dear Alexis, I can’t imagine how painful this must’ve been. Do you remember the summers? This place became a stove.”
She looked up into his eyes, into his crooked grin.
“What about the winters? I’ve frozen to death once before and I never have again. I think that’s my least favorite way to die.”
“How?” she mouthed, unable to push the words out.
His grin grew into it split his face in two. “I took the glass away as you slept, little by little. After the first decade, you could’ve escaped. You could’ve just walked right out!”
He pushed her onto the ground. Her legs folded and she crumpled over. Tears filled her eyes.
“You bastard,” she cried. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Will you now?”
“I’ll chase you down, I don’t care how long it takes.”
“Music to my ears.”
“I’ll never forget. Until time itself has ended, I will chase you down and I will make you pay!”
Mordred flung his head up and guffawed, his laughter echoing all around them. “Then I suppose I should give myself a head start,” he said and left, whistling a tune as he did.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories a week, continuations by popular demand, and more!
|
With a good, long stretch and a healthy yawn, I woke up from a deep, refreshing nap. You know the kind: there's nowhere to be, nothing to do, and no demands on your time. I smacked my lips and rubbed what remained of my sleepiness from my eyes.
As I became more aware of my body, I felt a sharp pain at my backside in one of those hard to reach spots. Whenever I grazed up against, well whatever it was, I felt a slight twinge like someone had stuck a small needle in me - nothing too bad, but incredibly irritating.
What the hell, did I roll over something sharp in my sleep? I'm used to the odd ache here and there, but nothing quite this persistent. I turned around to see if I could get a good look in the light. Yeah... maybe that's what it is, but it's *tiny*. This is going to bug me all day if I don't figure out how I can possibly get a good look at this thing, much less get a good enough handle on it to pull it out.
Maybe I just wont think about it and I won't even notice it's there. I've been through worse, **much** worse, this is really a mild annoyance compared to some of the things I've been through. In fact, if you put everything on a chart that measured just how rough things have been in my life, you wouldn't even be able to see this with a telescope. Besides, there's probably lots to do and see, I've been out for a while...
...oh no...
"Oh god, are you okay? Tell me you're okay."
What did I sleep through, how did I sleep through this, what even *happened?!*
"Come on, speak to me, snap out of it! You have to wake up, you just have to..."
This isn't real, I'm dreaming, I have to still be dreaming.
"What happened? Please tell me what happened to you. Just say something and let me know things are okay. Who did this?"
I was spinning, unable to leave my friend's side as I paced around her, completely positive that she had died some time ago. Her body was ravaged and ruined, a used-up husk of its former beauty. It was like a plague swept through her and burnt her out completely, leaving this... scarred waste behind.
What a twisted answer to my prayer to forget all about the pain in my rear.
"WHO DID THIS?!" I yelled hopelessly into the void.
---
Millions of years ago:
"Psst, hey Mars, check this out."
"Oh, ew, gross, what the hell is that? Earth, you're disgusting."
"I know, right? I figure I keep these babies around long enough, they'll jam a pole in the moon's butt."
"You're a grown woman, act like it. The moon isn't doing anything to you, she's just minding her own business."
"Whatever nerd, this is going to be awesome. Hell, maybe I'll even get some of them to jam a pole in your ass."
"Look, I don't want any part of this. Do what you want, I just think it's a bad idea."
"No way, dude, this is a fuckin' *rad* idea."
| 2017-06-22T20:55:06 | 2017-06-22T20:03:21 | 671 | 189 |
[WP] A young child summons a demon, but they only want a friend.
Inspired by this **NSFW** [manga](https://bato.to/comic/_/comics/the-sister-of-the-woods-with-a-thousand-young-r18806)
|
"... That is it? Is that truly it? Affirm your wish to me again. I must hear it once more."
"I want you to be my friend."
"Do you know how ridiculous that sounds, child?" Cheremianach haughtily asked. "You brought a demon from the infernal plane to your home. To ask it to be your friend." She was an odd specimen, at least compared to a human. Ink-black skin, dark sclera, eyes that shifted from red to orange and back again... she was certainly a demon, yet not as monstrous as some of them often were.
"So what? I'm lonely," said Eden, standing and staring at the demon quite defiantly. Only ten years old, she was dwarfed by the taller woman, yet she didn't seem scared in the least. She held a leather-bound old book beneath one of her arms. "Be my friend."
"You could ask for anything. Wealth. Power. I could arrange any number of things," Cheremianach said, crossing her arms. "Yet you merely want... a friend. You could ask one of the children from your area to be your friend just as simply, you understand? You do understand that, yes? It is possible to speak to people of your own race, is it not?"
"The other kids think I'm weird. They said my name is weird. I don't want them as friends."
"Did it ever occur to you that you may just be strange? It's none of my business, mind you. I am simply observing a... my, you are quite young for something like this. Nine, perhaps ten? Or a dwarf, maybe." Cheremianach's haughty tone didn't ebb for even a moment. She was clearly quite perturbed by the situation.
"Bye, then. I'll just summon another one, and I'll make sure it's stupid enough to accept immediately," Eden said, opening the leather-bound book again. "*Vera omne yhros*-"
"N... Now, now! Let us not be hasty, child!" Cheremianach suddenly said, putting her hands up placatingly. "We can come to terms over this!"
Eden continued holding the book open, but she looked up toward the demon's eyes again. "I'm listening."
"What are the terms of the friendship? What do you require of it?" Cheremianach asked, "How long do you intend to bind me to our oath?"
"I want you to be my friend. For life. So, at least eighty years. I don't really have any special terms. I just want someone to talk to, and I already know your terms," Eden said, continuing to stare up at the demon. "My name's Eden. Eden Gavelis. What's yours, Miss Demon?"
"Miss Demon...?" Cheremianach quietly asked. A grin broke out across her face, and she put a palm to her forehead. "You are a strange girl, that is for certain. My name is Cheremianach, but... you may call me Chere." Lowering her hand from her face, she breathed a deep sigh. "Fine. I accept the terms of your wish, Eden Gavelis, summoner of Cheremianach." She offered her hand forward. "Your blood, if you would."
Eden nodded, pulling out a box cutter from the pocket of her shorts. She made an incision on her palm, and then pressed her palm against Chere's own outstretched hand. The air became charged and heavy for a moment, and then... The summoning circle beneath Chere flared up, before falling still again. The chalk used to draw it scattered to the air.
"It is done, simply and easily," Chere said, "Now then, we must deal with that wound upon your hand. Where is your bathroom, Eden? I assume your parents must keep medical supplies there." She slowly looked about, confirming her surroundings. A chest sat in one corner, as well as a number of shelves. Three windows, placed on three of the walls... An attic, she had to assume. "And the stairs? Or perhaps, a ladder? This house seems quite old."
"I dunno. Bathroom's on the second floor. Don't know if there's any medicine or anything. Grandpa tells me to wait wherever I am if I ever get hurt," Eden quietly replied.
"Oh. I... see," Chere said, nodding shortly. "I assumed your parents were here. Now, my assumption is that they're not with us any longer. My condolences, child." She roamed over to the only hole in the floor of the attic, peering down into it. A ladder extended upward from the floor, and she quickly made her way down it. "Come now, Eden. Jump if you wish to-- I will catch you."
"Why're you being so nice now? Were you lonely too?" Eden asked, shortly before dropping down through the hole, not bothering with the ladder. Chere easily caught her, and then began roaming the second floor in search of the bathroom.
"I am a demon, and I have my pride. I had assumed you were some petulant little shit, summoning a being beyond your reckoning for laughs and giggles. Clearly, I was quite wrong in that assumption," Chere admitted, nodding somewhat gravely. "You are a lone child, living with her grandparent, and I, a lone demon. It is only somewhat rarely that I am summoned for anything at all." Discovering the bathroom, she quickly walked in and set Eden down on the counter, searching through the medicine cabinet and a series of drawers for anything resembling gauze.
"So you *were* lonely," deduced Eden, nodding deeply. "It's okay. We're friends now."
Letting out a chuckle, Chere began bandaging the young girl's hand. "Sure. Perhaps observing your life will prove to be interesting, as well. After all, a rare few children come to understand and perform the ritual of demon summoning."
Eden nodded, staring at her newly-bandaged hand. "Thank you, Chere. You're nice. I thought demons were all dumb or bad, but you're nice."
"I'm nice because I am under oath to be," Chere said. "But, perhaps it is because my sense of empathy is not entirely dead. A demon I am, but malevolent... not particularly. Only when a mortal attempts to cross me in some way." The demon put her hands upon her hips. "Now, what shall we do? What do you want to do, Eden? I am at your command."
The girl's stomach growled fiercely, as if possessed by a demon in its own right. "Food?"
Chere grinned again, nodding. "Very well. But I have not cooked using mortal plane ingredients in some time. I hope you're prepared." She took Eden's hand, and wandered off into the house in search of the kitchen.
"But... what about your grandfather?"
"What about him? He's so old, he probably won't notice you're a demon."
"And if he does?"
"... I'm sure he'll understand. He's a nice man."
"Very well. At worst, I will hypnotize him and make him see me as a mere human."
"Good. Do that anyway. It'd be too much work to explain it. Can we eat, now? I'm so hungry..."
"Do not be impatient, child. All things take time."
---
(Well, this was longer than I usually write. Loved the idea though. There aren't enough fantasy-ish prompts. Hopefully someone likes it. I also just realized I say that a lot when I post prompt responses. Couldn't think of how to end it, so I just tapered it off there. EDIT: I only just noticed I messed up a bit of formatting. Whoops.)
|
Twisted, gnarled horns poked out of thick, crimson skin just above the two yellow eyes peering at a little boy with a myriad of unpleasant emotions. *My* eyes.
"Lucifer, that rotten bastard. Why'd he send me here with no warning? Is this some kind of prank?" I snarled, spitting on myself in the process.
The young boy looked up at me with eyes wide as the moon, glimmering just as much. "It worked, it worked! Hi!"
I looked at the vermin, squinting and cocking my head. "*What?* Child, are you implying you summoned me here? That's absurd."
"I did, I really did."
"Look, you're too young to understand the incantations-"
He held up a book, bound in worn leather and stained with running ink, pointing at with a massive grin. "I did it, I promise."
I snatched the book from him and flipped through it. "*Where did you get th-* nevermind. It doesn't matter, I still don't believe you. Can you even read? Do you know *how much blood* is needed to summon a demon of my caliber?"
His face turned to the ground, body shaking with every sob, wiping at his eyes.
"Stop that insolent racket at once. Did I hurt your little feelings by saying you can't read? Fool."
He pointed to the corner, where two bodies laid limp; one man and one woman, blood pooling from multiple wounds on their bodies.
I turned to the child with a look of discomfort, my eyes shifting. "Oh, yeah, and what of it? What, you kill them?
He shook his head furiously and stood up, grabbing the hem of my shirt. "No, the bad people, they...they did that to ma and pa."
"Hey, get off me, beast!"
"No! No, I won't let go!" Still he clutched at my shirt, even as I tried to toss him aside.
"What do you want from me? Huh? I'm a *demon*, you stupid little boy. A *demon*. What could you want from me? You want to kill the people that did this? Not going to happen."
"No! No...I don't want to hurt anyone. I don't want anyone to hurt like I do. Just...be my friend. Please, there's no one else here."
I laughed in his face, but still he did not waiver. Anger flashed across my gnarled face, replacing the guffawing in a heartbeat.
"Look, you stupid little boy. I'm a fucking demon, okay? I kill things. I'm evil. No one will love me, and I love no one. Just sod off already."
"I'll love you."
I took a step back, face twisting. "Why would you love something evil, something you don't know?"
He stared deep into my eyes. "Because I called you here, and you came. You came, and you haven't left."
I looked down, flailing my arms. "Why would I take care of you? You're a pain in the ass. Humans are NASTY creatures."
"Because I'll love you. I can see that you're sad, too."
"I'm not sad, insolent mongrel."
He looked at me with a pure smile, one incapable of lying.
"Fine," I said with a growl, betraying myself. "I'll visit once and a while. But I swear to god, don't you ask me to hug you or shit like that."
His eyes lit up, glowing like the candle beside us. "I won't. Just promise me you'll come back. Promise."
"Fine, whatever. I'm leaving."
He smiled, and I looked away, toward the two dead bodies, before vanishing. *Fuck, you idiots. You weren't supposed to have a kid. They told me you didn't have any fucking kids...*
----
*thanks for reading! If you enjoyed it, check out /r/resonatingfury for more!*
| 2016-05-18T21:51:22 | 2016-05-18T20:36:49 | 185 | 126 |
[WP] Your whole life you had an ability that seemed normal to you. Now you realized you're the only one with this ability.
|
"All right...let's do this one again. What is it, number 62? Page 31. Yeah, that one. With the arpeggio." our instructor's voice clarified as it gained confidence in its command. "Ready?" The clicks of his drum sticks, silver and distinct, cycled throughout the room as its slight echo constructed their pristine, wooden rhythm.
A wave of skin tones, arms turned javelins and tipped with mallets, cut through the air and swept upwards in unison. Tensed energy broke. A storm of yarn broke over the marimbas as our arms rained down upon the alternating rosemary landscape.
My hands followed suit with the other classmates, tracing the notes dictated on the lesson booklet and fumbling with the new chords. I sighed as the spectral river, melody incarnate birthed from the dusts of silence, overtook the surface of my mind. The voice of each instrument ebbed and diverged, rising and falling in a complex miasma of fractals. Misty gray plummeted to cold ivory, then bloomed into florid red like gashes into ice. The hesitant pattering of strikes on wooden bars evolved into an iridescent ascension of stars. I reveled in the glory of the song we had created; fumbling, halting, but beautiful nonetheless. We had painted a wonderful shape. One that, with practice, would blossom into greater power.
The hand of our instructor sliced into the immature symphony, declaring a flaw worthy of halting its movement. Contradicting the elegant flight from before, our hands flopped unceremoniously to our sides. The nebula of sound stuttered to a halt; flickering courageously, it died, the tendrils of colored flame fading and falling back to static and ash. Without pause, he launched into his lecture on the factors of our error and the formula for their adjustment.
Like the continuous flow of an ocean, the cycle resumed many more times: music, voices. Music, voices. Color coalescing into seething silence. Eventually, we approached the conclusion of our last run. The clock was striking; our lesson had concluded. With the energy of the jubilant young, we covered the delicate instruments and began roughly sheathing the expensive tools back into their cases. A few others lingered behind to joke around with our teacher, playing around erratically with the few items left untouched in the middle of the room.
A stick bounced off a tom-tom. A flare of orange soared across my vision.
"Wow!" exclaimed the perpetrator, apparently entertained. "That sounded really high! Almost like on the marimbas. What note would that be?"
I looked up from my equipment for an instant and called out distractedly, "E flat."
At once, almost as if I had stated something offensive, any conversation throughout the room shriveled and died. Feeling eyes burning into me, I stood up and regarded the small group up front. "...what?"
"You're saying...that this has a note? That you know what it is?" As if to make a point, he released another smattering of beats upon the drum. Fire danced. Someone quickly wheeled a keyboard to us, ripping off the leather cover and sending it, crackling with compressed air, to the floor. It settled quickly, the gray fuzz of its wake falling into nothing. Retrieving another's mallet, she brought it down upon the appropriate key with the gusto of a blacksmith. The color of midsummer afternoon rang forth again, crystalline and more coherent than upon the drum. "She's right!" she exclaimed. "It's the same sound!"
I stuttered, at this point very confused. "Of course. Everything has a note."
Murmuring erupted in either direction. The instructor widened his eyes and regarded me. "Of course they do, to varying degrees. But how did you know which one it was? Do you have perfect pitch?"
Feeling very much on the spot, I stuttered, "N—no...I go by the color. E flat is orange." When no one responded with the familiarity I was hoping for, I tried again: "The color from the note! I see the color when it plays."
The tom-tom operator seized another mallet. The scarlet glow of a red dwarf pulsed. "A."
Dull gray, incarnate of tears and rain. "D."
Gold, triumphant and grandiose. "F."
Laughter emanated. "That's so cool!" "What's this note?" "What's the bass drum?" "I can sing! Which one is this?" The cacophony of questions preceded the bell, blaring through the intercom and filling my vision with raucous apricot.
I faced their sparkling eyes, gaping at first. Then my brow furrowed.
"You...you mean, this doesn't happen to any of you?"
|
It was Tuesday, March 27th. There was nothing special. No birthdays, not a holiday. Just another Tuesday in Joseph's life. He walked down the alley, unsuspecting of anything at all.
"He can't do it..." The voice boomed in disbelief, some people turned to look, but Joe didn't hear anything.
"He really can't?"
"Oh my- is this really? It can't-ifjudsohgikgkfjufifi" thousands of voices overlapped each other, melding together, deafening in their mutters but to Joseph, the birds sang and the breeze wafted with him as he walked down the busy street.
"It must be nice, to be the only one who can't hear the thoughts of thousands around him." Thought a random woman walking with her friend
"Could you imagine the serenity?" Chime in the other as he walked by them.
It wasn't long before the thought of the pair was mixed and mashed into the chaos around them, shared by all but Joseph.
| 2015-01-08T17:52:17 | 2015-01-08T17:37:32 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] A man tries to explain what a nuclear bomb is in fantasy terms to the grand council of wizards
|
Game face game face game face.
The doors opened up into a large circular amphitheater. On the pillars that encircled the pit were intricately carved runes on black stone. Six wizened individuals sat on a high table looking down upon me. Each was cloaked with form of clothing in bright colors with intricate patterns.
Wizards. They were wizards. I’ve seen Lord of the Rings. They were fucking wizards.
The umber skinned man seated in right middle stood up and spoke. “I am Regalus Ifnan Cortier.”
“Gesundheit.” I replied stupidly. Probably not the people to test patience with. My suspicion was confirmed when a sporadic and seething pain was administered to my ribs courtesy of the electrical current that emanated from wand of my guard. I gritted my teeth and counted to ten. Remember this pain.
The Regalus continued, “Please state your name for the record.”
“I am Gunnery Sergeant Justin Rodriguez of the 101st infantry of the United States National Guard.” I paused. “Of Earth.”
“Let the record show that the accused is stating that they are a representative of not only a country of the planet but the planet itself.” The Regalus stated. From what I gathered they were looking to tie my verdict to all of Earth’s. Lots of pressure. Game Face.
A pale female next to the Regalus stood up. She was an elf if Lord of the Rings is anything to go off of. “Gunnery Sargent Justin Rodriguez of the 101st-“
“Gunny is fine.” I interrupted.
The elven woman was clearly irritated but continued. “You stand accused of the murder of eight wizards of Terramodel. How do you plead?”
“I am innocent of the charges.” I said. They wouldn’t allow me a lawyer. Probably didn’t even know what a lawyer was.
“You state that you did not kill eight wizards three moons ago?” She asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Negative Miss.” I replied. “I am responsible for their death’s but murder is the intent of taking a life without due cause. Upon our arrival to your land we were a military regiment that had be threatened by those we made contact with. We attempted to speak peacefully to them, and they in turn opened fire. At which point we retaliated in a capacity befitting the circumstances.”
“Semantics!” An older bearded fellow cried out. “Death is death. You are apart military outfit, not an ambassador. Clearly your intent is marked by the high powered arrows you filled our Mystic Guard with.”
I frowned, getting angry at them would not place me in a favorable position to continue this discussion. They already had me pegged as guilty, that’s not what this trial was about, not to them. This was risk assessment. Were we weak enough to take on in an easy fight? Were we strong enough to take sneakier tactics? We’re we idiot barbarians who needed to be purged?
Or were we crafty?
“I’ll respectfully correct the gentleman and say that the munitions used are referred to as bullets.” I said. “To address the other claim that we assumed hostile intent I must press upon the council here that we did not know what to expect.”
The short bearded guy looked like he was about to launch another barrage of arguments at me but the Regalus made a placating gesture and simply said. “Clarify.”
I straightened up and looked as respectable as possible. “When our scientists opened the portal, our objective was to scope out and secure a position to further investigate what was on the other side. When we arrived, we determined that the surrounding area was good to make camp. Air was breathable, water drinkable, and no hostile creatures in the area. Our orders were to not engage any sentient life unless fired upon.” I looked over at the bearded man. “Which we were. My unit covered the retreat of our scientists and I stayed behind.”
“Why would you not leave with your people.” The Regalus asked.
“To prevent mutually assured destruction.” I said. I let it hang there for a bit.
“Clarify.” The Regalus said.
“Since we were engaged, we are to assume you are a threat.” I said. “In the event that we have engaged a hostile alien force, our retaliation will not come in the form of reinforcements, with a megaton nuclear bomb dropped above the entrance of the portal.
“What is a megaton nuclear bomb?” The elf asked.
“I appreciate the question, Miss.” I said. I tried to pace when I could, being in chains makes it tougher. “Are you familiar with bombs to any degree.”
A scaled individual in purple robes spoke up an a raspy voice. “Such devices rely on black powder and heat to create an explosion comparable to our own magical explosions.” It looked at the Regalus. “Portable, so the Mundus can use them. You do not see much use of them with magical folk. Such alchemy is inferior to similar spells.”
“My people have no magic.” I explained. “So a bomb was more developed and practiced. We got better at making them. So good in fact, that in our desperation to end a war we were able to split the smallest building block of matter and it resulted in an explosion so powerful that it destroyed an entire city.”
“Preposterous grand standing.” The bearded man said. “No such mundane device has that capability.”
“We used it twice to end a war.” I stated. “Since then, we enhanced it further. When used, it would would annihilate all targets within an 11 mile radius and would-do you have miles? Like. As a unit of measurement?”
“We measure in forns.” A brown haired woman in the middle right seat spoke. She wave her hands a produced a single vibrant pink line between her palms, just a bit over under one foot.
“Ah. So that’s a foot for us or so.” Quick math. “59,000 forns in every directrix. From where the bomb will be dropped.”
“Ancients preserve us.” One of the guards said.
“He is a liar.” The bearded man said.
“I haven’t gotten to the bad part yet.” I said.
“Falsities will run from the mouth of this demon brained foreigner.” The bearded man said ignoring me. “Sentence him to death a prepare the Amanj for a counter attack, Regalus.”
“What’s the bad part?” The brown haired woman asked.
I spoke. “The land will be uninhabitable for a number of years. A lasting effect called radiation will sour the soil, pierce the flesh and break down the body on smallest scale. Those closest will experience the liquefying of their insides and be dead in a number of days. Those furthers but will within the outer levels of effect will succumb to cancers, birth defects, and other health problems for years to come. It will greatly effect the environment in the area with the fallout being carried in the wind and harming those it carries.”
“Regalus, this outsider is preying on our fears-“ the bearded man began speaking.
“Ignis, for the sake of the Ancient’s silence your screaming yapper.” The cloaked Wizard said. “I’m not about to gamble with the lives of people in Terramodel.”
“And if it has all just been an elaborate lie?” Ignis asked. “What then Julian?”
The cloaked wizard, Julian, stood. “Regalus, I propose that we find a way to send correspondence back to the other side saying that we have kept their man alive as hostage while we assess the threat further. The portal isn’t going anywhere, we may as well make them known we don’t want to escalate this conflict if they can deliver death wholesale to our city.”
“I suggest that we adjourn this meeting and speak privately.” The Regalus stood. “Young man, you have given us much to think about.” He then looked at the guards on either side of me. “Take him back to his cell.”
Edit for posterity: The collected story is being posted on r/thedodging6 and has 7 parts at the time of writing this. I’m aiming for 13.
|
“Look. It’s like alchemy, which is not quite so much about magic but something to do with herbs and rocks and shit like that, but worse,” the Scientist waved his hand as though he was dismissing the actual context, but he wasn’t sure how to explain breaking things down to the smallest possible level and then blowing it up until it released so much energy it caused instant death to those close and a much worse one to those far enough to survive the blast? “We found out that you can make things smaller and smaller until you couldn’t make it any smaller without turning it into anything else.”
The man sitting on the biggest chair stared at him blankly. His robes were very ornate and he didn’t seem too impressed with the attempt to give a background on what nuclear sciences were like in the first place. The men in slightly less ornate robes to either side of him didn’t seem to care much either. One on the end though. His eyes were narrowed and his beard was much smaller and thinner than the others. His had was on the table before him and he was tapping his pen thoughtfully. The scientist looked at him before turning back to the council of high wizards of the Wizard University of Arcane Arts.
“Well, we found out that if you break it down even further than it is, or you shove two of these tiny things together to change their nature… it tends to blow up,” the scientist continued, looking at the men before him. The one next to the head of the council scoffed, rolling his eyes.
“A well-placed fireball can do more than any measly explosion,” he argued, crossing his arms and revealing many scars gained from elemental experimentation. A mark of the chief lecturer on Arcane elemental manipulation. The scientist didn’t blink as he turned his attention to the lecturer.
“I think you misunderstand,” the scientist smiled, “whereas your fireballs are limited by the power you command, a nuclear bomb is limited only by the amount of matter at hand. An arithmancer discovered that everything around us and even our bodies are made of a material that when certain forces are acted upon it, it can create absolutely devastating amounts of raw energy. We call it the Atom.”
“The atom? What’s that?” Another wizard asked curiously.
“The atom is the base component of anything that can be broken down until it can’t be broken down without becoming something else,” the scientist explained patiently, giving a little shrug, “There are some elements that cannot be broken down and some that can. Gold is always gold. Wood becomes charcoal when burned. And from charcoal becomes ash. From the ash we have found that there are many things within, but at the root of it all is a substance called carbon. We tried to break it down further, but we discovered that it was no longer what it was. And we discovered that the arithmancer was correct and it would release energy. So much so that the scientist performing the experiment was … scattered.”
“You mean he didn’t keep track of his notes? He should get an Igor for that. Damn efficient folks,” another Wizard pointed out. The scientist coughed delicately.
“No, I mean that when it went pear-shaped, he was turned into a fine red mist that covered several buildings,” he explained, “it took some effort to replicate the experiment and that’s when one of the younger scientists wondered what would happen if we did it the other way.”
“What happened?” The runic scriptures lecturer asked curiously. The scientist grimaced.
“He too became a fine red mist. In the meantime, we discovered that tearing apart the very nature of things … poisons the earth where it happens,” he shifted a little, “those that participated become sick with a terrible wasting disease that creates cold, hard masses that are untreatable. Those that moved into his old home became sick with the same type of sickness as well.”
“Makes sense,” the professor of natural studies nodded thoughtfully, “You have twisted nature and so nature has retaliated.”
“Yeah, well, someone has realized that because it’s not magic, anyone can use it and decided to make a bomb,” the scientist grimaced, “and the thing is, we study for the sake of study. This thing is a threat to everyone involved. That’s why I’m here.”
The chief high Wizard stated down as him and nodded, knowing what the scientist wanted.
“There will be a cost,” he warned, but the scientist smiled. Accepting that this was the cost of being the chief Wizard of the Mundane.
“Some things are too dangerous to be known by a creature so dangerous as man.”
| 2021-07-29T10:07:43 | 2021-07-29T08:32:24 | 507 | 94 |
[WP] In a post-apocalyptic world, you've been unsuccessfully trying to find other survivors. Settlements aren't that difficult to locate, but they always seem to have been hastily abandoned shortly before your arrival. A thought strikes you: is it you they're running from?
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It's been 11 years since I woke from cryostasis. I left a world that was on the better half of rebuilding from war and global warming. My mission was to ensure accurate historical contexts. But there was no one to debrief when I woke up. The world was scattered and broken and I was left to be forgotten.
I've spent 11 years wandering from ruin to ruin looking for people, but I have yet to find them. There's evidence - oh boy there's plenty. But it seems I always just miss them. Every so often I come across a new settlement and as I venture into town it always appears empty. Dozens of new settlements, always the same story, and always a pot of freshly brewed coffee in someones house waiting for me.
What am I missing?
It was a brisk spring morning as I came upon a hill top overseeing another new settlement. I took out my binoculars with little hope to find any movement down there. Pressing my eye into the cold eye piece of the binocular I could already tell it was another ghost town. Suddenly, a noise - the tall grass rustling nearby. My head darted in the direction of the noise. Nothing - well, not nothing, probably breakfast. I reached behind myself and slowly pulled out a bow and the few arrows attached and crouched low to the ground. The rustling continued.
I slowed my breathing, the noise didn't seem to be coming from a typical animal. An animal would come or go, the noise seems to be slow and methodical. I didn't trust it, I stood and turned and was about to run when suddenly hundreds of bodies emerged from the grass in a large circle encompassing me. They were all wearing body suits and pointing rifle-looking weapons at me.
What do I do? I hadn't thought about it until now, but I haven't even imagined a conversation with anyone in over a year, and I haven't actually said a word in maybe 3. It was like I took a vow of silence by accident.
As if reading my mind, one of the persons behind me spoke first, "Graasemsk rikom druv aeuir vaovum omd sas duvm um aeuir dmaak."
What? Clearly English had fallen out of favor here. I turned around slowly and the person I believe to have spoken started waving their weapon around. I put my hands up and out, the last thing I wanted to do was die after living alone for 11 years.
"Graasemsk rikom, druv aeuir vaovum omd sas duvm um aeuir dmaak," they spoke again. I think it was the same thing as before. The person quickly walked up to me, covering the dozens of feet between us in a flash, and grabbed me by my shoulder before pushing me down to the ground.
They were tall, very tall. Oh my. At least 8 feet. The tall grass was really tall, apparently.
"Hikom, du mus rakeks. Wa du mus voms su derr aeui...aeas," the first one spoke again, reaffirming that they have a weapon by waving it in my face.
"I don't understand," I stammered out, my muscle memory having to reach years back to figure out how to talk again. My facial muscles instantly strained with the effort.
The first one put a foot on my back and pulled their weapon away. They were playing with a device on their wrist. A few clicks and beeps later they took their foot off of me but pointed the weapon at me again.
"do skê understand now, human?" the first spoke again, seemingly angry.
A translator, great! Wait, did they say human? "I'm confused, did you say...human?" There was a rising tension in my voice, but I was too worried about the implied meaning behind the word human to care.
"where did skê chyome from? there has not been kla reported full human in over kla hundred years," the first one paced in front of my head, waving the gun closer and closer over the back of my skull.
"I woke up 11 years in a lab!!! I DON'T KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON!" I screamed into the mud below me. Hushed talk broke out around me, it made me worry all the more.
"A thousand years ago we chyome here as refugees. A billion of us. we had yupî̃p more fuel or supplies to chyontinue our yourney. there was only two option, your people achychyepting us or fight.
your people had yust finished kla great war, muchyh loss. trĩchyh were muchyh achychyepting of us. we lived together very harmonuously, even sex chyompatibility. many halfings were produchyed.
unfortunately, disease only known to us mutated. affechyted humans. muchyh more deadly to humans than us. humans died. we died. but stû halflings did not. what remains is kla wûj of being both humand and us.
zi has been kla long time sinchye stû disease glũpû̃p its mark, but many many many people died. sochyiety chyollapsed as kla trînyenggî. now we are yust beginning to rebuild," The first had calmed down during its story. Its voice smooth, slow, seemingly compassionate. They lowered their weapons.
I had rolled over onto my back, "So why has everyone run from me for these 11 years?"
The first laughed, "our human anchyestors have kla story ngîmenggî̃ kla ghost of past chyome ngij̀ to haunt. many thought skê were ghost."
|
I've never felt so alone.
This was the third settlement I'd come across in the last month. Luckily there was some food and supplies left behind, but I needed to see someone..anyone to talk to. I was starting to go mad. Was this what it was like for prisoners in solitary confinement, having to deal with the fragility of the mind, slowly breaking, like a crack, propagating across the windshield. I didn't know who I was anymore.
*Why was everyone seemingly always on the move?*
*Where were they going?* The radio waves had remained silent for weeks - no new signs of salvation. *So why not stay put?* These settlements were the best chance these people had of surviving. We knew from the beginning that the woodlands were areas for easy prey.
I find a can of beef stew in one of the pantries. Not having had the luxury of animal flesh in almost 6 weeks, my mouth immediately filled with saliva. I opened the can with my pocket knife and ravenously consumed the meat. As the savory, dripping stew meat hit my lips... a FLASH.
\-------------------
I'm on an operating table. Doctors surround me, tubes, metallic instrumentation, and machines all around the room. I look down. Why am I strapped in like some crazy person?
They give me some sort of injection into my femur, with a needle the size of my forearm. Several seconds go by. And then the pain sets in. The morphine is no match for damping out the effects of this elixir. Everyone in the room is staring at me, wide-eyed, like frightened deer on a countryside road.
\---------------------
I find myself curled up, naked on the cold stone floor of the basement. The can of food empty beside me. *What the hell just happened? It must have been a bad dream....It must have...*
*Unless....*
*NO. They said the virus outbreak was derived naturally - there was nothing we could have done to stop it. Why would anyone want to CREATE such monsters?* I really was going mad. I NEEDED to see a face. Anyone to talk to. Anyone to....eat.
| 2020-04-29T09:42:20 | 2020-04-29T08:56:55 | 76 | 19 |
[WP] Upon turning 18, all humans must spend one year as their spirit animal, to gain a better appreciation for the world and what they have. They awake on the morning of their 18th birthday as said animal, in its natural habitat. You wake up on your 18th birthday completely human.
Edit: Thanks so much for the gold! This came to me while I was half asleep and I wasn't sure if this would be any good or not.
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My best friend is an owl.
See, the day you turn eighteen, you spend a year as your spirit animal. The creature you represent most - the one that represents you the most.
John, he's a dog. He's happy, friendly, and loyal. Harper, she's a crow. She's clever and witty. Kate, she's a cat. She claws me up every time she comes over.
Just kidding. Mostly. Jason - he's an owl. He's kinda quiet, kinda reserved, kinda dignified.
I turned 18 last night. I woke up today - fully human.
Did the spirits fail? Impossible. They *never* miss anyone.
What am I going to tell the Bureau? Everyone's transformation has to get registered at eighteen. It helps them determine what kind of person you are - your personality, your strengths, your best future job. That way, they can structure your life in the most fulfilling way possible.
"Hey, dude, where'd you put my mice?" Jason's sleepy voice comes from the other room. It's hilarious hearing it come from such a small animal. "I want a snack before I go to bed."
I wander into the kitchen. "I dunno man, I haven't-"
"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
They're all there - John, Jason, Harper, and Kate. My own little zoo, except Harper turned nineteen last week.
And they're all staring.
"Dude, did we get the date wrong? This is really awkward..." mumbles Jason after a moment.
"No," I say. "It's the eighteenth."
Kate the cat speaks up. "So what's your spirit animal?"
"...I dunno. Myself, I guess?"
"That's not possible."
"I'm gonna call this in," says Jason, and he moves to the landline. "Maybe someone at the Bureau can help us."
Harper frowns. "...We've still got cake. You want a slice? We're the only two with hands, but..."
"Yeah." I say. "I'll take a slice." Cake for breakfast is always a good idea, right?
We're halfway through our meals when we hear a knock at the front door.
A primly dressed young woman is waiting when I open it. "Agent Anders," she says. "Spirit Registration Bureau." The SRB. I've heard they're generally pretty friendly people - more of a job and employment group than anything.
"Can I come inside?"
"Sure," I say.
Once the door is closed, she sweeps the room with some sort of device. It blinks steadily throughout the whole process, and she sighs, satisfied.
"I need to tell you something. But first - I need your friends to leave the room."
"I trust them," I say. "They're not going anywhere."
"We don't have much time," she says. "Tell them to leave."
"All the more reason for you to only have to tell it once."
She looks at me - at all of us, and sighs. "Fine. The SRB is going to come after you."
"What, to help me find an office job?" I've already realized that's my probable future. Boring.
"No. The SRB isn't just a job assignment bureau. It was also put in place to hunt Abnormals."
"Huh?"
"People with unusual spirit animals. Dragons, fantasy creatures, that sort of thing. Once we had a unicorn."
I frown. "Isn't that the *opposite* of what happened to me?"
"They'll want to take you in," she continues, "because you *do* have a spirit animal. It's a human. *Homo sapiens*."
I frown.
"The Bureau holds more power than you think. It assigns everyone to every job they hold - of course the placements will benefit them. But they won't know what to make of you. And they'll make you disappear."
"So what? I go on the run?"
"Yes. And you use your unique talents to stay underground for a year, then we register you as some neutral transformation, like a dog," she says with a glance at John. "You'll catch a fine for never registering, but it's better than the alternative."
Everyone is silent.
"So what are my options?" I say. "What unique abilities do I have? I've got no claws, no speed, no stealth."
There's another knock at the door. "SRB! Open up!"
"...You'd better find out," she says. "Go."
And I run.
---
[Part 2](https://redd.it/blczb9) is now up on my subreddit - subscribe to stay updated!
[Part 3](https://redd.it/blvv5r)
[Part 4](https://redd.it/bw9qyj)
---
^^Want ^^more? ^^Subscribe ^^to ^^/r/OneMillionWords
---
Thanks to you guys, /r/OneMillionWords is now a trending subreddit! Stay tuned for more.
|
Jake woke up in the forest as a tiger, with birds peacefully chirping. He told me he never felt so proud and calm. Cathie woke up as a cat, calmly being stroked by her master, that year was so peaceful for her, it completely changed her character.
On our 18th birthday, we spend an entire year as our spirit animal in it's natural habitat. My elder brothers and cousins all went through it. Being a majestic lion, a beautiful butterfly , a flamingo, a rhino , the list went on. I close my eyes as I started to wonder what animal I will be turning tomorrow. I can't remember when or if I actually slept but the next thing I knew, I jumped out of my sleep to the sound and vibration of what seems like an explosion.
I looked around seeing a vast desert and smoke in the sky, I looked down and I was wearing a uniform, there it writes; 49th infantry battalion.
I stood up to have a clearer look around me. Thousands of soldiers dead and another thousand more firing and killing each other mercilessly. Like animals.
*****
First post here. My English isn't really good.
| 2019-05-05T22:58:10 | 2019-05-05T22:19:44 | 2,562 | 1,146 |
[WP] Every time the Messiah returns, we kill him. It is now the Thirty-seventh Coming, and Jesus is getting sick of our sh*t
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Jim walks into a bar in a small town where his car broke down. He is a big city guy who never expected to meet anyone of consequence in that little town in Indiana. Jim sits down on a stool at the bar and orders a beer. An Arab or Mexican man sits at the end of the bar. He doesn't think much of him. He's small and nurses a screwdriver. Jim has nothing else to do, so he strikes up a conversation.
"I'm Jim. Are you from here?"
"No, I live in LA, but I fuck around here. What do you think, Jim?"
"Sorry, I...ah..."
"No, I get it. You were on your way from New York, car broke down, and you ended up here. You thought you might as well make the best of it. I don't blame you."
"How did you know that?"
"Your story? You're not going to believe me anyway, so I'll you the truth. My name is Jesus, pronounced like Hey Zeus. I was born to a virgin mother, and I'm the Messiah, Jesus Christ."
"So, you're a crazy person, that's interesting at least."
"Roger, give me a glass of water."
The bartender pours him a glass of water. He touches it with his finger, and it turns into something else.
"What the hell..."
"Try it."
Jesus passes it to Jim who takes a drink of it.
"This is beer."
"I can cure the sick. Make women orgasm by touching them. Get children to stop being assholes. I can do a lot of cool shit. I'm not just a personal brewery."
"So, you're really the second coming..."
"Second, no. I'm the 37th coming of the Messiah. I show my powers, and I'm locked up in a mental institution, or I'm a witch, or I'm the devil, or I'm just not the right fucking skin color. Dad has a way of pulling the same old shit like that. He knows they aren't going for it, but he keeps sending me back. I'm sick of the bullshit though. This time is different. I'm just drinking and partying and fucking. Maybe, in 20 years, people will be ready for me."
"Holy shit, so God is real? Wait, this is all a prank or something. Something you pull on those dumb city boys."
"James Howard Mitchell, born November 30th, 1978 in Yonkers, New York. You work as a salesperson at United Silverware. You hate your job, and your boss Cindy. Your wife, Cheryl, is beautiful but boring, and you've been thinking about getting a divorce for the past 18 months. Your son is the only thing keeping you in the marriage. That's the boring stuff anyway. I'm not going to blow your mind today unless I have to."
"I mean, anyone could know that."
"You used to jerk off to Bea Arthur until two years ago. The older the better am I right? You also banged a 64 year old waitress named Shelly when you 27."
"How the fuck..."
"I'm Jesus. It sucks, but I am."
"So, change the world. Go tell other people. Don't fuck with my life."
"Yeah, not yet. Like I said, in a couple of decades. Honestly, I just hope to delay the cosmic joke for a while. Last time, I was born in Afghanistan. Not to blaspheme, but Jesus, what was my dad thinking? Come back, get killed. Come back, get killed. It's a shitty cycle, James."
"So, this isn't a trick? It'd be one hell of a trick if it were."
"This town accepts me. They protect me. They would kill for me. Sometimes, they offer women to me. I wouldn't be so blunt James, but I'm safe here."
"So, you've been killed every time you've come back? Really?"
"Locked up in an asylum a couple of times."
"You're just going to wait for a while? Really?"
"I'm not like you. I don't have that American look. They'd call me an illegal immigrant, and some nutcase would drop me in the street, ironically, claiming that he was doing God's work."
"What if you spoke through someone else? Could that offset all of those negatives?"
"Unlikely, but maybe. Who would be this surrogate? You? You're an atheist James."
"God works in mysterious ways, I'm told."
Jesus smiles. He puts his glass down.
"Indeed, he does."
|
He raises with a leer and a stutter
Asks for how long he's been under.
We say without doubt
"He's been gone for about
2 half decades and 1 year, by our blunder."
He wakes from the slate, becoming a bore
Almost 36 times now, 35 before.
Walks down the street finds a Pawn titled 'Jack'
Nothing to beat it, says "Mary, I'm back!".
Walks into the pawnshop, beleaguered and depressed
As all through the streets they laugh at how he's dressed.
Buys a nice leather jacket, some jeans and a gun
Walks out into the world and says, "It's time for some fun."
EDIT: Grammar and punctuation edit.
| 2015-03-19T10:07:41 | 2015-03-19T07:28:52 | 82 | 33 |
[WP] You are a contestant in a million dollar challenge, 1 year in a room with no human contact. After a year you watch as the timer mounted to the wall flips from 000:00:00:00 to -000:00:00:01 and keep counting down but no one shows up to let you out and receive your prize.
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It was a fact that people are social animals, that we become unstable without interacting with other people. So, everyone went in with a plan to not lose themselves. Except me.
I had lost everything already. Lost my family, lost all hope, lost my job after that, eventually even my friends and my brother had given up on me. Said I needed to hit bottom, like the problem wasn't that I had hit bottom and hadn't bounced. I had already lost myself, so I didn't need a plan. I constantly felt that breathless desperation at my throat, like the time I had nearly drowned. I thought about killing myself, but was still working up the nerve.
I needed to get away from everything. Yet, I also needed a place to stay. Anywhere would do. And food to eat. Any kind would do. Maybe I would heal or maybe kill myself in there. I barely cared. But there was something soothing about the idea that I would be watched in there. People would care how I was doing, even if they did nothing about it because those were the rules. It would be like being watched by God, a God who had nothing to do with the death of my children and my fall into darkness...
It wasn't hard to get in. There was a psych exam as well as physical, but they weren't really looking to do anything except prevent liability on their end. So. In I went.
There was the usual deal of bright lights, audience, theme music... I smiled like an idiot and said things I knew they wanted me to say. It was such a relief to hear the door close and lock behind me. They were still watching, but they expected nothing from me at last.
The timer was above the door and the panic button with a flip-up cover next to it. My way out, should I desire it. I couldn't imagine.
Supposedly, they could come in and end the game if I ever called out to be let out three times in a row or if I had any significant injuries or illness, but otherwise I would not be interfered with... How oddly comforting that was. I could scream without panicking anyone. I could cry and stay in bed all day and no one would fuss. They would care, but they wouldn't expect me to do better, be better, magically get my shit together because they want it so.
So that's what I did. I cried. I screamed. I slept and slept. I stopped washing, stopped eating... And then I started again.
I don't know what happened, but I started feeling... Bored, I guess. And then I realized I felt oddly sticky and my hair had matted into a rug. So I showered and found some scissors to hack away the worst of the mats... And then I realized how dirty the bathroom was, how it smelled.
I started cleaning. Tidying. Organizing and throwing stuff away into the incinerator - clothes caked in sweat and stains, rotten food scraps, wrappings and papers covered with my ravings.
I started really noticing my surroundings and enjoying them - the large tub, the courtyard with its small garden, the comfy couch. It was different eating food and actually tasting it again. I started looking forward to when the pantry dinged and unlocked, signalling a delivery of fresh food, supplies, and sometimes clothes.
The number of entertainment options was also impressive - books, games, musical instruments... I decided to start practicing the violin again, which I hadn't touched since I was a kid. And painting. When had I forgotten that I liked doing it? When did life get in the way of living?
Once in a while, I'd talk to the audience out there. How I felt, my ideas about life, what I had been through, what I got from it and from life now. It felt like praying.
I found a routine. Get up, shower, dress, eat. Talk to the audience. Paint. Chores. Eat again. Talk again. Treadmill and listen to music. Violin. Courtyard. Eat again. Read. Stretch. A final chat with the audience. Nighttime routine and sleep.
I was in the courtyard pruning the tree when a loud beeping started. I dropped the shears immediately, fearing there was a fire, and ran towards the sound.
It was the timer, ticking down the last ten seconds. I had checked it a few times early on, banged on the door, yelled, stuff like that. But I hadn't checked it in... Months, maybe. Now I had only seconds left. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready.
I held my breath as it went past zero. The beeping stopped.
Then nothing.
I stood there awkwardly for a few minutes. I considered trying to open the door, hitting the button, calling out... But I just stood there. And the door just stayed shut.
I sat down in front of the door eventually. And then I talked to the audience about life some more. How we are all playing a game at life. How surprises are what makes it worthwhile, good and bad. How the door not opening was a surprise, but was it good or bad? I couldn't be sure, but it was an experience to be surprised and how I was grateful for it.
I sat in silence for a while longer. The light dimmed until the red button and the negative numbers glowed. Then the light grew again.
Faintly, I heard the ding of the pantry. Delivery.
I stood up and stretched. I walked back to the courtyard. They knew where to find me and I knew where to find them and we were all content with the way things are. For now. Maybe forever.
In the meantime, the tree still needed pruning. And I would need to sort the delivery. And get back on track with my routine that had been so awkwardly interrupted.
Edit: sequencing
|
I look at the clock, in a terror that I can't even explain. This is impossible. This must be a mistake.
I relax, I will just sit down and wait a little longer, people are late all the time....right?
With all the hope I can muster, I sit back down. And wait...and wait...until i eventually fall asleep...
When I awake, to no surprise I;
I look at the clock, in a terror that I can't even explain. This is impossible. This must be a mistake.
I relax, I will just sit down and wait a little longer, people are late all the time....right?
With all the hope I can muster, I sit back down. And wait...and wait...until i eventually fall asleep...
When I awake, to no surprise I;
I look at the clock, in a terror that I can't even explain. This is impossible. This must be a mistake.
I relax, I will just sit down and wait a little longer, people are late all the time....right?
With all the hope I can muster, I sit back down. And wait...and wait...until i eventually fall asleep...
When I awake, to no surprise I;
Hold on a sec, have I...have I tried opening the door yet?
After walking across the room, I put my hand on the handle, and to my sheer unfathomable horror, it opens.
As I walk out the door, I am greeted by the cheers of all my friends in family. The giant cheque, that I always imaged I would win, is sitting front and center of the room. Seeing people again is overwhelming, so much that I can't even speak.
As I stand there, probably looking stupid in retrospect, the head of the contest appears in front of me.
"MY GUY! YOUR LATE! DIDN'T YOU REMEMBER THAT YOU NEEDED TO WALK OUT TO CLAIM YOUR PRIZE? OR WERE YOU JUST HYPING YOURSELF UP?"
I then invested my winnings, and after 4 years bought out the experiment company. You may be wondering what I did once I bought it, well, its simple actually...
I added automatic doors.
| 2019-07-03T04:42:44 | 2019-07-03T04:13:40 | 30 | 10 |
[WP]: The principal of your daughter's school calls you. Your daughter has founded her own religion. Her followers are starting to get out of hand.
|
“I’m glad you could meet with me on such short notice, Mrs. Cooper” Vice Principal Swinton’s voice was soft and unassuming. Swinton was a woman who had taught for many years, and it showed. Years of breaking up schoolyard fights, defusing angry parents, and managing her underpaid staff had worn her down. Dark purple semi circles hung under her eyes.
“You look tired.” I said, still unsure what my purpose here was. “Is Jessica okay?”
“Thank you, Jessica is fine, you know she’s a bright young lady, and popular too! I couldn’t explain everything to you over the phone, I’m trying to keep my opposition a secret. I need your help, If I can catch her off guard, I might be able to take the offensive and put a stop to her reign.” The Vice Principal spoke very plainly as she pulled at a loose thread on her jacket sleeve.
“Excuse me? Her...Reign?” I said.
“Reign of terror, yes.” Swinton lit a cigarette, placed it to her lips, and inhaled half of it in one huge gulp.
“I assume you don’t know The *Order of the Cross.”* She exhaled.
“The….What? I’m sorry... why am I here?” I tried to think back, to see if I could remember anything about an ‘Order’.
Swinton sighed. “I thought not. She kept it from you, the genius. She’s orchestrated the whole thing. Principal Cobb thinks this was all your idea. Do you mind if I show you some of your daughters artwork?”
I didn’t respond, but my silence was interpreted as interest.
“She drew this yesterday.” Swinton pulled out a piece of paper covered in crayon markings.
In the center of the drawing was a stick figure girl sitting in a yellow chair. Around her were five or so stick figures, all bowing to her. Her teacher had given the drawing an ‘A’ with seven plus signs. I looked over the picture and handed it back to Swinton.
“The colors are good, there’s no denying it’s an excellent picture for a seven year old. The issue is what this drawing represents.” Swinton continued. “Let me read you a poem she wrote in class on monday, the prompt was ‘*What my family means to me’”.* Swinton pulled out another sheet of paper and began to read from it.
“My family means so much to me. My children will follow me to their deaths, I can have the entire universe, we can all be free from tyranny. It’s so dark dark dark outside, but the light can carry us to salvation, carry us to the Seven. I will end the war between student and teacher. No more nap times, no more plain milk, soon the halls will run red and the crosses will be plentiful. I love my dog, his name is Checkers. He’s a silly dog.”
Swinton put down the paper and looked me in the eyes.
“um….Tyranny, thats a big word.” I tried to lighten the mood.
“College level. No doubt she’s smart.” Swinton sighed. “Follow me, I’ll show you to your child. You need to threaten her with a time out. Be firm, don’t take no for an answer.”
Swinton didn’t wait for a response, she stood up, opened the door and stepped into the hallway. I followed her down the hall to a set of double doors.
“This is the Gym, I’m forbidden to enter, but *The Order* doesn't say anything about you. I need you to put a stop to this.” She placed her hand on my shoulder.
“Put a stop to what?” I shivered, just realizing that the schools heater wasn’t on.
“You’ll see.” She opened the door and I walked through.
Inside the gym it was dimly lit. All the lights were out, the only sources of light were the twenty or so candles strewn about. Jessica was sitting directly underneath the far basketball hoop. On her head was a tiara made of melted wax crayons. The chair she sat on had been painted yellow, and looked like it had been pulled from the teachers lounge. It was large and padded and too big for such a small girl. She had a footrest and she was adorned with hundreds of candy bracelets and necklaces. Both arms, up to the shoulder, as well as her neck, were covered in the tiny candy beads. All throughout the room there were Children sitting criss cross applesauce, bowing their heads to her in reverence. Three children dressed in all white were walking around slowly, passing out cups of Kool-aid to the masses of praying children.
When I entered, my daughter looked at me with wide eyes. She pulled her feet up to her chest and grabbed her knees. It was then that I realized she had been using Principal Cobb as a footrest. He was on all fours and didn’t seem to notice me at all.
“Young lady,” I started “You are in so much trouble!” My voice echoed inside the gym. “Just you wait until your dad hears about this!”
“But Mom-” She started to whine but couldn’t keep her voice from cracking as tears welled in her eyes.
“No buts! How many times, Jessica, how many times do I have to tell you!? We’re still getting letters from your last school, they think a spaceship is going to come to take them away!” My voice raised several decibels as I yelled at my child.
Jessica began to bawl. I walked up to her throne, some of the children stopped praying to watch me approach her.
“Listen darling, when you’re older, you can start as many cults as you want. Right now you’re just a kid and you can’t take care of all these stupid people. Common, don’t cry, I’ll take you home, we can get some ice cream on the way.” I stroked her hair in an attempt to soothe her.
Jessica's tears let up at the mention of ice cream. I picked her up and started to walk towards the exit.
By the time we got to the double doors, there were six children fighting over the golden throne. Several of the children who had drunk the Kool-Aid were foaming at the mouth and collapsing. The Principal of the school stayed exactly where he was, waiting for the children to determine his new leader.
“This looks like a really nice cult sweetie. You did a good job.” I whispered to her on the way out. “I give it an ‘A’ with seven pluses.”
“It’s my seventh cult.” She said, smiling. “My eighth will be better.”
“Just promise to wait until middle school” I said.
“Fifth Grade.” She bargained, a cheshire grin bubbling onto her face.
|
The office has a few framed documents on the walls; there is a Masters of Education, followed by a certificate in Youth Mentorship and an Bachelor degree with fake gold trimming. Mrs. Joan Graham had graduated from OSU in 1985. The cross on her necklace showed she was pious. On the other hand, Ashley Carrol, the rumors about her relationship with the deacon of St. Matthew's were much less so.
"I'm sorry." Ashley looked Mrs. Joan Graham right in the eye. "You mean to tell me that my daughter started a religion?"
"Not only that." It was condescending, the way she spoke, all pursued mouth and domineering voice. "It has gotten out of hand. Absolutely out of hand, and we think it might have to do with problems in the home."
"'Problems in the home'? You must be kidding me! And if this was such an issue why didn't anyone tell me? I... I mean, what kind of religion are we even talking about?"
There was the thundering of kids outside the door, passing between periods. It was almost lunch as well. Ashley had taken off her lunch break for this. She was starving.
The desk was large enough that it seemed too big for the room. From the looming walls to the odd looking runoff from the ceiling to the lack of windows the whole place was compressed; it had a lived in stink and the carpet looked matted. Rough and poorly cared for.
"I don't rightly know. Some woman's lib thing." Joan was too young to be using *woman's lib* in any sort of sentence.
Ashley took a deep breath. "Okay. Fine. I'm sorry she's been disruptive. I really am, so... What do you want me to do?"
"First she needs to stop with the... The solicitation of religious material." It sounded like Joan was quoting something. "And no profiteering..."
"Profiteering?" Ashley would have liked to have thought she would have noticed that her kid was making some extra money; but she was also a freshman and the walk home passed through the middle of town. It might not have even made it past the ice cream shop.
"She's running around trying to convert the other kids. Good, decent kids! And that's against the first amendment, doing all this is schools.
"Even in Oklahoma."
"Especially in Oklahoma!"
"Okay. Alright." Ashley tried not to run her eyes. She'd get makeup all over her face. "So no paper and no covering people. Is that all?"
"I think that about covers it. We wouldn't want to being in the ALCU."
ACLU. Anyone could get a Masters in the 80s. Ashley hadn't even been in high school then.
"Just, can you show me one? So I know what to look for?"
"I can do one better." Joan puffed up like a doing chicken. Which she had never, ever been. "I can show you what she wrote!" Then she slammed a photocopied version of *Siddhartha* on the desk with the fanfare of a magician.
| 2018-09-19T14:31:35 | 2018-09-19T09:18:45 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] Two introverts are trying to hide from the drunken masses at a High School party gone wild. Tell me the story of them meeting in the only quiet room of the house.
Extra brownie points are to be awarded to romance stories.
|
The room was beautiful. Lined with books, upholstered in leather, smelling of parchment and the fire that had burned low in the hearth. I held my breath... in an instant, the shitty day had turned to wonder. Aunt Gloria had a library.
Wait. Something about that thought was absurd. What was it? Oh, right. Aunt Gloria, reading. Or, for that matter, interior decorating in anything that wasn't glass or flock wallpaper.
Her husband had divorced her years ago, so whose room was this? I turned a full circle on the spot, partly looking for clues, partly just taking in the gorgeous sanctuary I'd found. On the other side of these doors, my mother, aunt, uncles and cousins and a bevy of Gloria's neighbours - just to add to the horror - were roaring with laughter and extracting overly-intimate details about each other's lives. I could barely hear a thing. For the first time since the warning that were making the trip this year, I smiled. I let out the exhale and began to relax just a little. None of them would notice I was missing, except my mother, and not even her for a while yet.
I walked past the long reading table, admiring it without touching. If I started touching the wood in here, I'd never stop, in fact I might have to actively *bite* some of the shelving. Sexy shelving. Christ I *am* a nerd. The fireplace was a draw. Despite the numbers in the house, Gloria's home always did a number on my temperature regulation… my hands would freeze, while my armpits became sodden swamps. My face would burn and the back of my neck feel like someone was blowing icy air on it. I sat down, and picked up the book on the low table in front of me.
"Don't lose my place." The voice might have been soft, but it was so unexpected I had to bite my lip to keep from yelling 'fucking hell'. I'd stood up again, almost dropping the book, and looked behind the chair. There was an old man sitting on the floor, with a pile of thin books in one hand and a box in front of him. He was slim, slight, but not quite frail. "I was reading that, don't lose my place." He turned his attention back to the box.
"I… okay… sorry." I floundered a bit, but he hadn't asked me to leave, and one person was a huge improvement on thirty. "I'm Chris."
"Uh-huh" responded the man, his head of grey, wispy hair now bent back over his task. The tone was not dismissive. He just didn't need any more information. At least, that's the impression I got, and I decided to trust it, because it was that or rejoin the family from introvert hell. I'm not good at social cues. He could have been telling me to get to fuck.
I sat back down and looked at the front of the book. A biography of a dead British politician. At least, I assumed he was dead; the photo on the front cover didn't bode well for longevity. According to strategically placed playing card, my companion was on page four. I supposed once you reached his age, it was possible to forget you'd read four pages. I flipped to the back to double-check that this wasn't something I was going to be able to pretend to read, even as a social prop, and the card fell to the floor.
"Well, there it is. The evening is looking up. Do you suppose," mused the man from behind me, "anyone out there plays Cribbage?"
"I do, I might be rusty though. Dad played."
"Which one is your dad?"
"Steven. Marjorie's my mum. He died last year."
"Oh…. Yes, Marjorie's fellow. Quiet chap? I'm sorry for your loss. Go and get the crib board."
"It's not … uh, out there is it?"
"Do I look stupid? It's in the box on that shelf up there. The cards, too. Most of them." He held up the three of clubs, and I took it gingerly, and went to fetch the board and cards. *When I grow up*, I thought, inadvertently reverting to my childhood mantra of desire, *I will have a room just like this. And stay in it.*
I took the crib board back to my spot by the fire, and realised he'd cleared a space on the floor. The books and box had been pushed aside, and a spare cushion had appeared, allowing me to realise that he'd been sitting on one, oddly gracefully at that. It was a nice little den near the fire, behind the chair, in the corner, and the feeling of being a child again grew, only in a comfortable way that I'd rarely really experienced. I sat, settling easily into the little nook, and watched him shuffle the cards about. His legs might have bent well enough to sit on the floor, but his hands moved slowly. Still, I could tell he enjoyed the sensation of shuffling them, so I waited until he was content to offer me the cut.
Our game began, a little stilted at first, but warming up quickly. Crib has a known language; *Fifteen two, fifteen four, fifteen six, two for a pair makes eight.* There's a script. You can expand on it, if you want to trash talk, but this guy was about eighty, maybe older, so I kept my remarks respectful, even when I suspected him of pegging an extra point or two, enjoying the rarity of communication without effort.
We'd played most of the way around the circuit, and I was losing by maybe a point or three, when the door opened and the noise barrelled in. I looked up and saw my disappointment and mild alarm mirrored in my companion's eyes. Then he allowed himself a small smile and winked at me.
"Chris? Christopher? Are you going to join us or not? Oh. " The voice took in the apparently empty room, "Your great-uncle Chris has gone to bed. I'm sure you'll see him for breakfast tomorrow, I've told him it's going to be the whole family, he's really looking forward to it." Aunt Gloria began this sentence in over-loud tones on one side of the door and finished it as she pulled it closed behind her. I realised neither of us had alerted her to our presence in a space that, I now realised, was artfully designed to hide someone, or at the most two people, from the casual observer.
"I go to bed much later than she thinks I do." remarked great-uncle Chris before laying his hand out. He didn't even have to enumerate the ways in which I was stuffed. "Best of three?"
"Yes please." I took the cards, gave them as thorough a shuffle as I could without showing off the flexibility in my knuckles, and let him cut for the second game. "What are you going to do about breakfast?" I asked politely.
"Assuming I don't die in the night, and you never know, God is sometimes merciful, I might conveniently forget that we have guests and go for a walk into the nearest village for the paper and some croissants. As an old man," he leaned in conspiratorially, "I could fall. I might need a companion." I was grinning freely by now. "Your father used to go for quite a lot of walks when Marjorie would bring him out to see her family." I smiled, imagining Dad up here. "I got the most charming card from him when you were born."
"You did?"
"Indeed. Hand me that book."
I reached back and hooked the politician's biography or memoirs, and watched as he flipped to three quarters of the way through, pulling out a small, battered notecard that I hadn't noticed. It had obviously done service as a bookmark for a number of years. He handed it back across to me and I read what my father had written within.
*It's a boy! Came out quiet, barely made a peep for the first half an hour, so we're naming him after you!* ~~ Marj & Steven.
____________________
[edit]: Went with the hiding-from-party theme, forgot by the second paragraph that it was supposed to be a high-school thing. Sorry OP.
[edit 2]: The gold made my day! May your world be full of books and corners to read them in, whoever you are.
|
The door opens, and Erika briefly considers running for it; but the noise is still there, and she isn't feeling all that cold yet, so she just calls out: "Hey, the door doesn't open from this side!"
"Ah, what do you mean there's someone *here* too --- hey!"
And the door slams shut, and most of the noise goes away.
The other pounds on the door for a while; but Erika is fairly certain that even without the noise nobody could hear him... her? She's not certain, or interested.
So she leans back against the frozen vegetables, curses her mittens, and goes back to Chapter Eleven.
Around Chapter Fifteen, the other creeps to view, and stands leaning on the shelf of preserves; his or her hoodie covers all but the tips of shoulder-length black hair, and his or her hands are in the belly pocket.
How typical of other people to come to a party so unprepared. Erika never goes anywhere without a pair of gloves or mittens, a hat, an umbrella, three plastic bags (shopping, sitting, and/or shitting, in a decreasing order of having a good day), a multitool, writing implements, tape, and at least fifty unread and thirty to-be-reread books.
With the books, the numbers really went up after she got a smartphone.
Always one paper book, though. A phone doesn't work as well as a Hint.
"Whatcha reading?" the other asks.
"A book."
Erika reads the same sentence over and over, and keeps wishing the other would take the Hint; she wasn't here in the coldbox while a drunken red-fisted party ranted and raved outside because she wanted to *talk*. No, she's here because, haha, the only way to be left alone by well-meaning busybodies is to make them think you're not alone. And isn't it wonderful how they never understand how alone and lonely could be exact opposites ---
"I'm Chris."
Erika snorts. "Erika." She hands the book to the oth... to Chris.
"Oh, I've read this one."
"Right."
Chris hands the book back, hesitantly. "Do... uh, do you want to know if it's good?"
"Don't know your taste. And am reading it myself, right?"
Chris blinks --- she, Erika thinks. Or a very feminine he. No matter.
"I uh, uh you said the door---"
"Doesn't open from this side."
"Uh, do you have a phone?"
Erika shakes her head; no way is she going to waste battery power on summoning noise.
"H--- how do we get---"
"Two hours."
"Uh?"
Erika glances at her watch. "No, hour and fifty-two. Then people start looking."
Chris blinks. Erika is quite sure, now, that Chris is a he. A girl would be quicker on the uptake, surely?
"The Call."
Chris sinks down opposite her, and his (possibly her) butt hits the floor just atop the frozen pea Erika had placed there. Chris squirms a little bit more away, and blinks some more. "The... call?"
"Sure."
After a few minutes, Erika looks up from her book. Chris is still staring at her. Rude, that. "Yes?"
"Why're you here?"
"Because I dislike talking to strangers about dumb inconsequential shit, and I'm too immature, or possibly mature, to pretend otherwise. Which makes me really popular at parties. Which I really really like anyway, can't you see how much social fun I'm having?"
"Right."
"Right. Because I'm not running down my socialization battery to talk shit about sport I don't follow, TV I don't watch, music I don't listen to... look, how rude must I get before you get the hint?"
And then the other just stared at her.
God, please, Erika said to herself, don't let this be one of those guys whose fetish is "fixing" girls who just wanna be alone.
"You're so cool."
Okay, so that was kinda unexpected.
"I feel just like that all the time too!"
Hoo boy.
"Like, I'm only here because my roommate made me. But it's so noisy out there, and I got so lonely, I mean---"
"I know." A corner of Erika's mouth twitched involuntarily upwards. "Being alone and being lonely kind of correlate negatively for me."
Chris smiled, too. "I got to steal that."
And they sat in comfortable silence for an hour and fifty minutes, and then Erika made a call. A few minutes later some very irate policemen arrived, the party ended... and finally the search party opened even the cold room door, letting out a smug girl and a giggling companion.
"I gotta steal fhat trick", Chris whispered as they stepped outside.
"Just remember", Erika said, "throw the SIM card away, and don't sound too weepy. That's so fake."
"You... uh, you want to hang out some time?"
"As if. See you in the next quiet room; BYOB."
"Uh?"
"Bring your own book."
| 2014-10-06T10:11:58 | 2014-10-06T09:53:16 | 132 | 14 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu."
|
Sleek silver spacecraft dotted the dimming skyline like crushed peppercorn sprinkled over water. Their shapes were practically indistinguishable by their sheer number and velocity.
Command Master Chief Petty Officer Ryan Fields stared upon the decrepit ancient city of R'lyeh with a wary eye. The structure of the island was contradictory and unpleasing. The was a strange electric and apprehensive atmosphere on the island and he thought if he should stay here long enough he would surely go mad. He had lost half his damn fleet just attempting to make it to the island, on the Master Chief Petty Officer's orders. The orders were clear - this was not humanity's last hope. There was no hope.
This was vengeance.
The warships had arrived unannounced and by the thousands in some sort of quantum stealth shield that had gone undetected by radars, and blitz attacked Earth's superpowers. In synchronized unison Washington D.C., Moscow, Beijing, New Delhi, Paris and London all fell to the unstoppable extra terrestrial force.
They had made no offers to negotiate or requests for surrender, and had made no prior contact. They had simply arrived, intent on destroying humanity.
There was no hope. Human forces were not prepared for such a massive assault and, even if they had been, could not match or defend against the technological advantage of the enemy arenal. The swift fleet of the alien armada disintegrated opposing military forces, destroyed buildings and ballistics with hypersonic missiles, shutdown entire nations' electronics with EMP waves, and flooded the streets of raided cities with weaponized drones.
They ate through any and every line of defense like a plague of locusts and then moved onward to the next helpless populace in their path.
CMDCM Fields stared at the strange algae-covered statue with growing anxiety and dismay as foamy waves of green seawater broke against the rocky surface of R'lyeh. He had no idea how to do what his commanding officer has asked of him in his dying breath.
The Master Chief Petty Officer of the Navy's last contact with Fields was right after Okinawa was attacked. He had been stationed there overseeing drills in preparation for the North Korea crisis. Fields remembered how MCPON Giordano had screamed over the radio, as the percussion of explosions echoed in the background. "Fuck it! Summon Cthulhu! Do you understand? 47°9′S126°43′W."
The MCPON was in the middle of repeating the coordinates when the transmission cut out. Okinawa had fallen to the alien horde.
Ryan Fields felt himself being pulled toward the statue, and felt a deep longing to touch the replica of the eternal creature and feel its damp, cool surface. He didn't so much as want to; on a personal level he found he needed to. He approached the strange humanoid creature that resembled both an octopus and a dragon and felt a humming vibration inside his head. He placed his hands on either side of the thing's tendrilled face, as his Petty Officers watched in awe.
"*Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn.*" Fields whispered as his body tensed and pulsated.
Suddenly, CMDCM Fields felt a wave of knowledge erupt throughout his skull. An impossible current of ancient and powerful secrets obliterated his mind and lapsed synapses as they passed through. He had gone insane moments before he stopped breathing, but it might well have been an eternity of damnation with the vision of what ancient evil he had just summoned burned into his mind.
Beyond the island, enormous tidal waves began to thrust and swell in an outward motion, devouring the remnants of the 5th fleet that had come to R'lyeh. The surface of the ocean became permeated with dead marine and deep sea creatures, as their inferior brains collapsed at the sight of the Great Old One.
Slowly, Cthulhu awoke from aeons of its death-like slumber and rose from the deepest and darkest depths of the ocean, bringing dread and terror to Earth's surface with it. It's sleek, bulbous green skull rose first, followed by enormous piercing cosmic red orbs, then innumerable tentacles larger than the ships that had sunk under its ascension.
Some of the seaman screamed as they witnessed the Great Old One. Many simply dropped dead from the implosion of their reality as CMDCM Fields had done. Others threw themselves into the sea. Above, the alien warships began to plunge from the sky like dead flies as their pilots went insane. Spacecraft crashed all around the Great Dreamer and the mind of every living thing that witnessed Cthulhu collapsed into madness under the sheer power of its existence.
And Cthulhu laughed.
|
The call had been placed for eons. Cthulhu, his strong influence touching the minds of men, had been trying to summon those who would wake him. Alas, his influence had been hindered by the watchful eye of the worlds governments. Until now.
Faced with the gravest of threats, an alien race who thought letting humanity linger would cause the end of all life in the universe, the governments of earth lifted their world-ender from its slumber.
Rising from the depths of the mysterious ocean, the grave threat to humanity saw the world ending plague about to befall the humans on the earth. It sprung into action, writhing from R'lyeh, Cthulhu the elder guard attacked the threat to *his* planet.
The battle lasted minutes. The armada which had arrived lay in waste. And with the threat to humanity gone, Cthulhu had time to turn his attention where it belonged. To humanity. Nobody razes the earth but Cthulhu.
| 2017-09-26T11:37:27 | 2017-09-26T11:22:23 | 374 | 92 |
[WP] A story that doesn't make any sense, until you read the last line.
|
Being a janitor ain't so bad.
A lot of people look at my line of work as dirty, you know? And I'll be the first one to say, you don't always get to have your hands clean. But it ain't a big deal, you know? I try to stay positive.
I work on a large government facility that specializes in medical research. The pay is good, and I get time off whenever I feel. Honestly, at this point, I have days accumulating from when the facility opened; I just can't bring myself to leave the job well enough alone. It's barely a job anymore, you know? I'm doing what I love and working with all sorts of people.
Every day, I clock in about five-thirty, and I prepare everyone's coffee. It's not a part of my job, and I don't get payed extra, but I love to do it, you know? The look on the researcher's faces when they wake up in the morning to a fresh pot and a smile, man, it just makes my day. I've always been a proponent of doing good to your fellow man, you know? It's courtesy.
We all live in-facility, in a nice little apartment. It's kept away from the labs and clean (I make sure it is!), and I never miss home. Sure, a couple of people have their problems living on-site, especially because of how close we are to the animals, but hey, it's fine. Like I always say, it's great to see the good things over the bad. Optimism and such.
I don't tend to bother with the labs or the rats much. They have their caretakers, and I would hate to make 'em feel like they are less important than the rest of us. We all got a purpose, and it's great to have a purpose. Still, I love seein' the rats sometimes. They're so strange, you know? Sometimes it seems like they got a mind of their own.
The labs rarely get too messy, anyways. Our head researcher, Jo, he doesn't do things inefficient like. He's making advancements in his field that he assures me will save our nation. Great stuff, but I don't believe it all. He's a proper exaggerator, and real prideful. Likes the ladies, too. I don't judge, can't judge, really. Everyone has their own purpose, and is worth somethin' in God's eyes.
One of my favorite things to do by far is the tours. We have kids from all over the place come to our facility to learn. It's inspiring to see the teachers of our nation spending so much time looking into making our youth better, you know? Most of the researchers and security are too busy to talk to the young ones, so it's my job, and I'm glad to do it. My wife, God bless her soul, died almost ten years ago, before we could have a baby. I think about her every day. I promised I'd find someone else, just like she asked, but I just can't do it. I thank God every day I got the chance to meet her, for as little time as she had here.
Anyways, the children are usually pretty interested in what goes on. I always start by explaining the facility and the purpose it serves, and some basic sanitary things in case they find one of the lab rats. It ain't often to see them out of their cages, but sometimes they chew through the wires, and have to be put back. The guards are little rough on 'em, more than I'd be. I think some of the kids get sad seeing the animals in this condition, as do I. But there ain't much I can do, and after all, they are just rats. They don't know any better.
We haven't done a lot of tours recently, it's been far too busy. The government ordered us to increase production, so spirits are low. I try to keep morale up, though. You have no idea what a smile will do for someone who is having a bad day, or a compliment. It's what drives me to keep going.
Just yesterday, the news had a big story. We got a lot of problems going on out west, and we had a meeting last night to discuss everything. I don't like to brag, but I stood right up in the middle and said that we had a duty to keep working for our country, and that I believed in everyone. I got a standing ovation from the director's board. Then they told us that Jo is doing some really important work with rats from the same litter, and how he could begin to save the vision of our citizens in under a year. I've never been more proud to work here.
Today I'll just keep doing my job like always. An elementary school from the city asked to hold a special tour in them. Jo offered to take over, but the teacher said the kids wanted their favorite janitor to be the guide. Man, that made me so happy. Thank God for innocent children, who don't have to worry about this war and all this.
Hey, thanks for listening to my story, by the way. It's not often I run into people this late at night. I'd love to talk, but I really ought to get home, you know? I have to get up early tomorrow and get ready for a tour. Maybe the kids can play with one of the older rats today, one that doesn't have teeth. Anything to make 'em happy, that's what brings the light to my eyes.
Besides, you know, the front line ain't anywhere close to us, and the directors assured us that Auschwitz shouldn't be in danger for years.
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First time responding to a prompt, so be gentle.
Grixbrug gave a soft, uninspired sigh. Nothing he did could affect the world anymore. His steps made no impacts into the ground; his bow would not draw; he could knock an arrow, but it wouldn't leave his inventory. How long had he been stuck in this hell.
At this point he didn't even care. Their party had started with five members; a team that, Grixbrug decided, would be more than enough to venture deep into these infamous, dangerous caverns in a timely manner. Three had been members of Grix's own race, while their group had also managed to recruit a mighty Shu'halo and an agile Sin'dorei to assist.
The Shu'halo was the first to leave their party, surprisingly. Not even their ability to harness nature and transform themselves into a mighty beast was enough.
Though the party had, without their Shu'halo companion, attempted to proceed, disaster was rapidly approaching. It wasn't more than a minute later that everybody else had disappeared.
The Sin'dorei, the last of his allies that Grix would ever see, had remained visible for but a moment. The agile woman had attempted to sneak around the vile serpents, attempting to use their skills at agility to remove on of Grix's enemies from the fight for a moment. The cursed event that had doomed his party brought her forward just as she was about to strike. Instead of being hidden in the shadows, the Sin'dorei was plainly visible. Grix watched in horror as she was eviscerated in a few short seconds; these were not enemies to mess around with.
After a few seconds of recollection of how things had gone on, Grix realized what had happened.
He saw it. The more infamous sight anyone like Grix could know.
'World server is down.'
| 2017-08-30T10:11:11 | 2017-08-30T06:35:06 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Your entire life has actually been a virtual simulation. You wake up to discover you're part of an experimental rehabilitation program, where convicted murderers relive the life of their victim.
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I don’t have much time. I have exactly 23 minutes and 41 seconds left (as I begin writing this). I should start this bluntly and get right to the point; I was immortal. Emphasis on the 'was'. I was immortal, not in the sense that I cannot die, but in that once I die I continue living. It's complicated, and even I don't know the details. What I can say for certain is this; the age at which I die is not set, and every time I die, I occupy a new body. Time does not pass, in fact, I always die on the same day: May 29th, 2014 at exactly 5:00 P.M. It’s remarkably consistent. The weirdest part is, I always see the people I once was around me, not to mention I get a glimpse of who I am yet to be. Every time I die, I hear the same words echo into my head, and I’ve begun to think it’s the word of God. The voice always says, “Put him back in.”
Once I hear these words, I must live through the eyes of another man, woman, or child. I’ve been my own father, wife, and so. I’ve served in multiple wars, and hell, I’ve gone through the education system too many fucking times. And at the end of every life, I appear in the North Central Bank on 23rd Street, located in Mulysa, Arizona on May 29th, 2014. The entire structure consists of expensive, white marble that truly exhibits the wealth and the security of the bank. The bank is the pride of Mulysa and one of its oldest structures. Once I enter it, I cannot leave. It's like an invisible barrier prevents escape. It’s said to have once belonged to the Gregor family, which is saddening considering that they only recently lost the bank as of this life. When the head of the Gregor family died, Allen Gregor, it was left to his loony, sociopathic son, Kane Gregor. I’d hate to be in that psycho’s shoes. A total whacko. Shit, sorry, went off on a tangent. Wasting time.
You’d think I’d have learned not to go into the North Central Bank by now, but the problem is that I don’t retain the knowledge of my previous life until I enter the building. I’m typing this now so that perhaps someone can figure out what happened to me and record it. I would try to warn my previous self, but it seems I’m on my last life. Like a shitty game of Mario, I’m all out of 1Ups. Seems I’ve been making shitty jokes till the end. Perhaps it’s for the best; I’m growing tired of this lifestyle. It might be nice to rest. I just can’t shake the feeling that something else must happen. This can’t be the end. I don’t think I want to go. . . Fuck, the clocks almost out. Six seconds now. Goodbye. . .
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The computer monitor shows the same explosion it has shown the past twenty six times. The North Central Bank is engulfed in a huge ball of flame and rubble.
“He’s done,” the voice once thought to be God says aloud.
A flood of relief enters the immortal man’s head. 'This must be the end of it all. Perhaps it won’t be painful,' he thinks. But instead of his eyes closing, they open.
“Do not try to move Patient 3451. Everything will be explained soon,” a woman dressed all in white says.
The immortal man’s mind goes wild. 'Patient 3451!? The hell is this!? Where the hell am I!? Did I enter another body?' He asks himself. He looks down upon his arms and realizes he cannot see them. In fact, he cannot move them. A straight jacket holds his arms to his chest, and restraints on his legs and torso further restrict his movement. He wears the clothes you’d find on a patient in a mental ward. The room is completely baby-blue and padded except for a large metal door, and just as Patient 3451 begins making observations, the door swings open. A man in a white lab coat steps in, and says two sentences that not only explains everything, but provokes a blood-curdling scream.
“Ah, welcome back Mister. . . Kane Gregor was it? How have your victims been?”
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EDIT: Fixed some formatting, apologies
EDIT 2: A few people requested a Chapter 2 so I decided I'll run with it :) Hopefully I'll have another chapter up in a few days, but unfortunately I have finals so it might take some time. Thanks for the kind words everyone! :D
EDIT 3: I've decided to run with this project as long as I can. I will likely shamelessly advertise is everywhere. Here is a link to the thread where I will answer FAQ and such. http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/271zqd/pi_memorys_pursuit/
The link to the actual story and chapters is here: http://chapterfy.com/r/memorys-pursuit/
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The old lady was reading calmly her late husband's log again. When most people find about this strange hobby, she replied that those were not words of murderers. They were truly God's word put in the mouths of redeemed men. Salvation.
But every once in a while she read that particular text. Unsure of how to feel about it, she used to read it almost as religiously as the Bible itself.
"I woke up crying. Crying. It was the worst experience in my life, living a life that was not mine; a gruesome life. My conscious self was doomed to wander around this lying piece of crap's random thoughts of bribery, corruption and manipulation.
I could not begin to understand how I came to be the bad guy when the only thing I did wrong was finishing this man's life, a man that would be terribly dangerous if we allowed him to continue wielding that kind of power.
The rush of joy when I saw the bullet approaching my head in the final moments topped every feeling of angst and fear. I was in paradise seeing him (or myself in his skin) dying again. Infinitely more pleasant after the hideous things I had witnessed.
I have no regrets. Now that I've experienced death, I fear it no more. You can kill me right now, right here and I wouldn't be sorry. It will be a prize, actually.
I came back from the simulation with a hundred more reasons to kill the President."
| 2014-05-28T20:10:03 | 2014-05-28T19:54:37 | 123 | 64 |
[WP] You went into your families fall out shelter at 6. You learned everything about being self sufficient until at the age of 12 when your parents went to check what has become above. They never returned. The plan was you stay below until you turn 25. Tonight, you turn 25 and tomorrow above awaits.
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I wouldn't imagine there is a single person on the planet who understands the anticipation of someone who's lived underground for 19 years. Even the simplest things like the look of sunlight or the feeling of a breeze, these existed in me only as the faintest of memories.
But all of that was about to change today. Well, maybe. Hopefully. If the world hadn't been blasted into an endless desert wasteland. Ever since my parents left for the surface and never returned, this is of course what I've most feared.
I stood there at the top of the staircase, in front of that thick metal door, dressed in full fallout gear. A strange hesitation had fallen over me. Could I really go through with this? I'd fantasized about this day so many times, but I never expected this much anxiety.
'My world is about to change forever, and there's only one way to find out.'
I reached for the handle, a round metal wheel much like the type one might see on a bank vault. For years this wheel stared at me coldly like a stoic gatekeeper standing between me and my freedom, but today it was finally going to let me pass.
I slowly twisted it round, as if to savor every moment of this new and unfamiliar feeling. I cracked the door open, and a light brighter than any I could remember shone in from the outside. I shielded my eyes and stepped forward into the uncertain mystery.
I was able to hear before I was able to see. In front of me I heard a series of shouts, "Mona Lisa! Leonardo Da Vinci!"
I was confused. As my eyes adjusted, I saw that I was standing in a room of some sort. It was brightly lit from the daylight spilling in from windows on all sides. In front of me were 6 people in pastel-colored clothing. A man was standing in front of a board of some sort, a man who looked somewhat familiar. The other people were sitting in a circle around him, looking up at him and away from me.
Almost exactly at the moment that I saw this scene, the standing man saw me. He dropped the marker that he held in his hand and stared in shock. The others, seeing his expression, turned around and all stared at me.
Alongside my eyesight adjusting, little pieces of information started to click with me, one at a time.
'Oh my god there are people alive up here!'
'This room looks familiar, I think it's my living room.'
'Ok that is definitely my dad, and that's my mom!'
'Wait, what the hell is going on here?'
The man who was standing at the board, whom I now recognized as my dad (but clean-shaven), was the first to speak.
"Oh my lord, it is the 22nd of February isn't it?" He looked over to the woman sitting to his left, whom I now saw was my mom. "Martha, it's her birthday!"
"Oh Carl, this is splendid!" She replied, and ran over to embrace me, followed closely by my father. I stood there, speechless, happy to be above ground but still very confused.
"Come along," my dad said as he pulled me and the rest of the group into another room. "Let's have some cocktails to celebrate!"
At this point, it was dawning on me that no one else was wearing a radiation suit. "Mom, are we safe up here?" I gingerly and quietly asked her.
"Why of course we are, dear, it's perfectly safe. You have no need of all that nonsense." She began to pull off my helmet, and at first I instinctively backed away in fear before allowing her to remove it.
Yes, the air up here smelled fresh and felt great, a thousand times better than that stale air in the bunker.
And yet, things still didn't add up. Have my parents been up here, only feet away from the bunker, this whole time?
As my dad passed me a glass of some unknown fizzy drink with a green umbrella sticking out of it, I finally built up the nerve to ask, "You guys, I don't understand what is going on? I thought a nuclear bomb destroyed everything, but everything looks fine. You guys look fine. I've been down there for over a decade."
My mom walked over and put her arm around me. "Darling, I totally understand. Let me explain."
She sat me down at the dining room table nearby, and the others gathered around. "Well, you already know that Carl and I got married very young. I was only 17, not even out of high school. We had our whole lives ahead of us, and the fact is that neither of us were really ready to be parents."
"I mean, neither of us had even been to Cancun!" my dad added.
"But at the same time, dear," mom continued, "neither of us would dare terminate a pregnancy or put you up for adoption. We would never do something so cruel, those choices were just out of the question. Well, we finally decided that the best course of action was to put a little fun and adventure into your childhood and pretend that the world had been destroyed in a nuclear war. As long as we kept sending food down there and keeping your air relatively clean, you would grow up safe and we could live out our lives up here until a time when we were ready to be parents."
"Which we decided" my dad chimed in, "would be on your 25th birthday."
I shook my head. "Wait. Wait wait wait. So civilization was never decimated in a nuclear holocaust?"
My mom shook her head, a big smile on her freshly powdered face. "No honey, isn't that great?"
|
Half my life ago, my parents left to check the outside world. I remembered the world like a framed picture within my mind. It's there, but it's just a single frame.
I remembered the ghostly wails of the siren when my parents rushed us into the hatch inside the basement. It was built to last, this shelter, but the food count went low.
I could have left at any point, save myself from this loneliness by finding others or dying, but I was scared. Of death, and of people. I've been isolated since I was 12, no sounds, no talking, no play, no people. I just sat here and gazed at the framed image within my mind.
Before I finally left, for hours I stared at the last drop of the last can of soup. My stomach growled.
Like the day I came here, the ladder was still tall, although no longer in a literal sense.
The frame picture of the outside flashed through my mind and I climbed up.
I pulled on the wheel of the hatch, unlocked it to push open. Debris and dirt fell over me. Through a fit if coughs, I saw the house still stood. I noticed there was a carpet over the hatch. My parents must have placed it there to hide the entrance.
I crawled out, it felt like someone squeezed my gut because I was so nervous and afraid. The light beamed through the roof boards, guiding me to the outside.
Of all things I expected, I never expected an elevator. With a glance around, the entire area of devoid or life. It was just dead grass, decayed houses, and a blue sky, and this elevator.
I stepped in. It looked new, functional. Why was it here? I pressed the button, and the doors closed. I tried to rush and get out, but it shut and began to move.
| 2019-11-06T00:12:56 | 2019-11-05T22:59:43 | 3,371 | 165 |
[WP] You are immortal and have been working on an alien ship for the last 80 years alongside aliens that have a much longer life span than humans. They have begun to notice your lack of aging in your time spent with them.
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"We're roundabout the Scollassi Cluster," I said, pointing at the holo of the local stars grouped together. We'd spent the last hour guessing where we were, "Has to be, look at that red giant next to that yellow dwarf."
"Hollis," Stoop hissed, he was a reptilian Two'nog who was completely naked due to some religious holiday or another. Who knew with his overly religious species. It seemed almost every other day they're celebrating some prophet or the other who sacrificed themselves for an egg cluster or something else dramatic. He continued and I noticed everyone had stopped chattering as if they knew what he was going to ask me, "I am three hundred of your years old and I have been reading about humans. Even with advances in your medicals since Contact was made your species still only lives to one-hundred twenty on average. We all feel very sorry for your short life spans, but..."
"Go on," I said, my smile slowly fading. Here it comes, I thought.
"You have been on the Alias for eighty years," Stoop hissed, he adjusted a compad in front of him nervously, "I have checked the ship's records. You listed your age as forty when you were taken on board. The math puts you at one-hundred twenty." I snuck a glance at the myriad of aliens representing outcasts from the galactic community watching me with interest, "I have seen pictures of your elderly. You do not appear as they are."
"Healthy diet that doesn't include live prey," I said, drawing a chuckle from the group, "Besides, Stoop, your records say that you'd never bite anyone when you get drunk on that methane crap that passes as an intoxicant for your species but I have scars in multiple places that proves that wrong." There was now genuine laughter at this.
"That is very humorous," Stoop hissed, his eyes narrowing to show mirth, "But still Hollis, are you saying you lied on your enlistment forms? What were you? Twenty? So that would still put you as elderly but we have all looked at pictures of your elderly and you do not appear to match."
"Fine, fine," I said, deflating, I had run from humanity. Getting tired of faking dying every thirty years so I would not draw attention. I figured I'd be safe from questioning among aliens. This had proven I'd stayed too long, I guess. Lesson learned, "How old are you grandpas and grandmas?" I gave their translators time to do their work.
"I am six hundred twenty-four," said Twiz, a furry Gundrakki told me, breathing heavily through a face plate.
"Two hundred eighty-five," said Gall, a shape-melter from Alpha Delta or somewhere close.
They went on and on, representatives of their species giving their ages.
"I see," I stated plainly, "If I recall from the Guide, the average lifespan is about a thousand years old. With the oldest sentient creature in the universe clocking in at two-thousand seven hundred-and twenty something odd years, ancient even as measured by her long-lived species."
There were a multitude of nods and shakes and whatever passed for affirmitives.
"Well," I said and let it go, "I was born on Terra approximately twenty-two thousand years ago. I lost count actually, might be a few thousand more than that."
The aliens around me were silent as second after second went by.
"Bullshit," a Gobbi said and laughed heartily, "Damnit Hollis, we're being serious!" His laughter had broken the spell and the room roared with different sounds of humor and Stoop found it so funny he slapped his tail into the hull.
"Seriously guys," I laughed along with them, "I'm just in really good shape for my age."
"You are ok," Stoop said slapping me on the back, "For a human."
As the group dispersed I made a mental note to "die" in an airlock accident on the next station. I had more than enough creds saved to get a cheap lifeless clone made. I wouldn't be collecting insurance money so there would be no investigation. After twenty-two thousand years I decided I had learned my lesson. Thirty years max was how long I'd stay, no matter where the galaxy took me.
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"Hey man are you immortal or something?" the humanoid alien with translucent blue skin jested. I know him as Lupe, although his name in his native language is unpronounceable with a human tongue.
"Yes," I replied matter of factly.
"No, seriously," Lupe's face turned a shade of mint green, indicating he was feeling tense, "We've all been wondering for the past decade or so, but felt it was too rude to ask such a thing."
"No worries, Lupe! I was wondering why y'all had not asked about this yet. I really am immortal!" I said cheerfully.
"That's amazing!"
"Indeed!"
The end.
| 2020-02-25T10:59:35 | 2020-02-25T08:18:15 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] You're throwing a ball around with your dog and he's loving it. Then, he stops dead still. He takes a quick sniff and looks up at you and says "I'm not supposed to do this, but you need to get inside right now". He looks off into the distance, "They're coming".
Wow, was not expecting this, thanks for the silver:) and the gold:))
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Nicholas stopped, looked down towards his dog Rex, unable to process what he just heard.
Rex: *Digging a hole by the door* “yeah I get this is probably confusing for you but if we stay out here, we will die.” *picks up a brown leather bag from the hole* “take this”
A speechless Nicholas grabs the brown bag from his dogs mouth and looks inside to reveal a Mac 10 submachine gun.
Rex: *growling while staring off into the distance* “it’s not for you, give it to Mittens”
Nicholas: *as both Rex and himself walk inside* “um who’s mittens?”
Rex looks at Nicholas’s cat 🐈 named “Mittens”
Rex: *looking annoyed* “Mittens!!! He knows, now stop wasting time, we have a situation?”
Mittens: *sits upright and bends her paw towards her self sarcastically* “wow must be pretty big for us to blow cover, we’ll chap, what tis the dealo? A 4? Owe maybe a 5?”
Rex: *with a straight face* “NO............it’s a 9”
Mittens: *visible shocked* “mate, we don’t have the resources available here to deal with a 9”
Rex: *jumping up on the kitchen counter and grabbing a steak knife in his jaws* “I’m afraid we don’t have a choice, now Nick give your cat her submachine gun so we can stand a chance.”
Nicholas: *still stunned, hands Mittens her Mac 10 as her adorable paws fit perfectly around the trigger* “um....... what’s....... what’s a 9?”
Mittens: *staring daggers at Rex* “you didn’t fucking tell him?”
Rex: *jumping down from the table and motioning for everyone to follow him us stairs* “I didn’t have time, I just found out now,”
Everyone goes up stairs as Rex and Mittens begin barricading the downstairs door.
Rex: “animals are given numbers, if they rise up against earth to claim it for themselves it’s called a ‘Situation’ most in the past have failed so few animals even try anymore.”
Mittens: *smiling at Nicholas* “it was actually you mad lads that have whipped out most of the other competition, fucking humans, the second best at the game and they don’t even know they’re playing”
Nicholas: “so what numbers are cats and dogs,”
Mittens: *amused* “well actually t......”
Rex cuts her off
Rex: *staring back at Mittens* “it’s not important”
Nicholas: “so what’s a 9?”
Rex and mittens look at each other.
Mittens: “Komodo Dragons 🐉”
Nicholas: *confused* “WHAT? How? Why? When? They are secluded on a small isolated island in Indonesia? How could any let alone a wave make it up here to rural Canada?”
Rex: *putting the last board on the door* “they are many, most live underground. They will engulf the world in flames”
Mittens: *putting down her radio 📻* “the Eagles and Geese will be on their way in 5 min for evac, we need to get to the roof”
[Thud] [Thud] [Thud] [Crack]
Mittens: *pulls out her Mac 10 and aims it at the door which is beginning to break* “This won’t hold............... close the door behind me” we can’t let them through”
Rex: *growling* “NO..... WE ARNT LEAVING YOU”
Mittens: *laughing as she uses her claws to cut the bindings of pillar, making it crash between herself and the others* “I punched my ticket love, now get Nicky to the roof”
Rex and Nicholas begrudgingly flee upstairs and begin to climb up into the roof.
[meanwhile back down stairs]
[THUD]
(BACK IN BLACK FROM AC/DC starts playing on the downstairs radio)
Mittens: *smiling* “HA REX DID LOVE THE CLASSICS”
A single Komodo broke through the door and lunged towards Mittens. Mittens jumped up with lightning speed barely slipping out of the beast jaws. Facing her gun downward she unleashed a burst of bullets straight into the monsters mouth killing it instantly. Mittens with her head on a swivel dives into the mouth of the dead Komodo as more rush through the dead remains of their comrade.
Several Komodo Dragons make it to the top of the stairs and are confused by the locked door.
Mittens: *jumping up from the remains of the dead Komodo she was hiding in* “Ha gotcha” *holds down the trigger unleashing volleys of bullets at the ambushed Komodos*
After gunning down several more Komodos her gun clicks empty. However she takes the smoldering hot barrel and jams it into a rapidly approaching Komodo. She and the other Komodos watch in horror as the approached Komodo chokes to death on a boiling barrel.
Mittens: *exhasted, looking at the Dragons with her claws out* “WHAT ELSE YOU GOT????”
All the remaining Dragons lunge at once. Mittens cuts the throat of the first one, wraps her body around the second and claws the eyes out of the third until the forth gets in a lucky bite that takes her arm off.
Mittens: *in agonizing pain* “AHHHHHHHH”
Mittens backs herself into a corner, with one good sharp paw left. She looks past the dozen of dragons she has killed and sees the ocean of grey lizards surrounding the house. But when all seem lost...... she hears it....... the Squak of Canada Geese and American eagles 🦅. The reinforcements have arrived.
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I’m new to creative writing so feedback welcomed.
Hope was more than an ordinary yellow lab. She was more than a playful ball of energy. I am blind, and Hope was my guide dog. Hope gave me a new perspective on life. She never complained about all the traveling at college, and she was always up for a new adventure.
Every day after class, Hope and I would go to the green area on campus to play ball. I took off her harness, threw the ball, and Hope was off. I tossed, she retrieved. Playing ball was our way of winding down. However, today felt different, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. With my arm growing tired, I threw the ball once more and waited for Hope to retrieve it.
Suddenly, I felt a shift in the air. There was an eery silence. The birds stopped chirping. The wind stopped blowing. I thought it might be about to storm since Florida weather can be highly unpredictable. I called out to Hope figuring that we would just head back inside as always, and waited for her to return with that beloved ball. But I could no longer hear her paws hitting against the grass. I could no longer hear her playful panting as she ran to get the ball. And I definitely could not see her. Thinking I may have thrown it a little too far, I continued to wait. Then, I heard a bark that only I knew. It was Hope. Was she ok? Her bark grew increasingly alarmed. She finally returned with the ball when out of nowhere, an unfamiliar voice exclaimed, "GET INSIDE! THEY ARE COMING!" I thought nothing of it. Then, it said, "I am Hope. You need to get inside right now."
I didn't know what was happening. I couldn't believe my dog just talked, but I didn't have time to think. I didn’t have time to ask who or what was coming. All I knew was that I had to trust her. Hope had guided me around so many obstacles. I knew now was not the time to doubt her training. I quickly ran back to my dorm. When I arrived, I found everyone in a panic. My mind ran through the worst possible scenarios for almost every college student. Maybe all the washers and dryer‘s were taken. Maybe Chick-fil-A was closed. Maybe someone forgot to put the water in the mac & cheese and almost caused a fire. Finally, I asked my friend what was going on?. She said, “What do you mean? How could you not know? It’s finals week, and we are all going to fail!”
| 2019-07-15T16:06:06 | 2019-07-15T14:00:47 | 53 | 15 |
[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.
|
The first time Dean noticed the words hanging over someone's head, it was during a hospital stay. There had been black ice on the roadway, that was what the police said. He hadn't been driving for all that long, and no one really blamed him for the accident. It was just one of those things that... happened. Naturally, he thought that maybe the drugs -- and they *were* good drugs -- after surgery was causing the hallucinations.
But they never went away.
The words above his mother's head read *SUICIDE*, which couldn't have been right; she was the happiest person he knew. Eventually Dean went back to school, and most of his classmates were the typical *HEART DISEASE*, or *CANCER*. Nothing that wouldn't already happen in life for most people. It was sort of comforting, in a way. He knew his friends would be there for life.
One day, the words started ticking between two options. One practically screamed *FIRE*, flickering in color, and the other was the original cause of death. Dean felt that it was odd, but didn't think on it further. There were parties to go to, pants to get into, and general mayhem to create; as only a teenager could.
It was during finals week, feeling stuck in a classroom, that the alarms went off. Almost every student was uncertain, looking at one another while the teacher ducked her head into the hall. And promptly cursed. There was a sort of nervous laughter, how often do you really hear a teacher curse?
"*Everyone out*!" It seemed to jar his classmates awake. Dean chanced a glance above their heads, the words flickering between *FIRE* and *SUFFOCATION*, sometimes *SMOKE INHALATION*. The letters flowing with fire, or being crushed beneath an invisible weight, and even rolling with imagined smoke. It was like that for everyone in the classroom as they filed into the hallway, joining the panicked masses. Bodies pressing against one another, shoved into walls and lockers.
Dean wasn't even looking at where he was going anymore. Instead, his gaze was fixed upon the words that floated above everyone's head. There were so many people in the hallway that he couldn't even make out the individual letters. But he could see the flickering flames, or the rolling smoke, through the haze of the hallway. Further toward the front of the group, the words were a conflagration; toward the back a mass of smoke pushing toward everyone.
Where the hell were they even going?
That was when it dawned on Dean. This was the science wing, wrapped around an inner courtyard, and they had to circle around to even get to the exit. It was a poor design, but the trustees thought that it was beautiful with a bit of landscaping. Supposedly kids would go out there to smoke in the 70's, before it was banned on the property. Now it only trapped them. The heavy fire doors that would swing shut were just ahead, the words above people were sparking in need, as if they were to create what was to come.
"No, no no no. Wrong way!" Dean was shouting, trying to be heard above the din, his shouts barely reaching the people around him. But they began to slow, even with teachers harrying them onward. There was a classroom door just ahead, and he ducked into it, pulling people inside. "Through the windows! Go! Gogogo!"
It was like he couldn't get the breath to tell enough people, the haze thicker. But the words above their head began flickering more violently, bringing spots to his vision. First *FIRE*, then *HEART DISEASE*, faster and faster. Dean couldn't even keep up with the flashes, instead breaking open the narrow window with a microscope from the counter top, clearing away the glass. People pressing up against his back as he tumbled through the window, barely rolling to the side in enough time.
The words flashed less, settling on more mundane means of death, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Dean was hoarse from the shouting, parched from the smoky haze in the air. But he had done it! They were going to *live*!
That was when the words flipped on everyone he could see. Every single person. Before he could do anything, barely getting enough breath to shout, "No! Don't open that door!" A frightened student yanked on the handle of the courtyard doors, near the exit to the science wing. The last of the floating words flipped over everyone's head, and Dean braced himself, trying to become as small as possible. It was inevitable.
*EXPLOSION*.
|
Our world has changed. With time travel comes death predictions. A technical engineer working alone in a garage created a "portal"in time just powerful enough to transfer technology, like cameras, microphones, and storage devices. The revolutioniser created a way of predicting death, but could only take down what happened, and not when due to storage limitations.
As I walk down the street, I begin finding patterns. First, I find an unlikely amount of people die of stress. Weird, but it happens I guess. I just kinda shrugged it off at first.
But then something very weird happened on the bus. The person next to me, a young Asian girl that was innocently talking about her biology homework, had changed her C.O.D from "Car crash" to "Suicide". I don't know how she did it, but it just... Well, popped into another word with an audible noise. The same noise began almost immediately in the city center, and everywhere the same word would hover over people's heads...
"World War Fallout"
***
Thanks, this is bad I know but it's very late, and I'm on mobile, so I will fix it up on my PC tomorrow :D
| 2015-03-31T09:27:39 | 2015-03-31T07:50:48 | 42 | 21 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
|
A dark room, hazy with the smoke that made the Brill comfortable. Shorter than humans and with four arms instead of two, they were otherwise similar to humans: bilateral symmetry, two legs, two eyes, a mouth. Instead of a nose two slits extended alongside the neck; formerly gills but adapted to breathing air.
One side of the room is elevated and topped with a long podium, behind which seven Brill are seated. In the center a Brill is seated, behind his own table. If it weren't for the strange decor it could be a congressional hearing room, and in fact it was, of a sort: members of the ruling caste were asking questions of the surviving Grand Master of the Brill invasion fleet.
The First was seated center of the podium. He was the only one permitted to ask questions; the others were there to observe.
"What went wrong?"
The Grand Master squirmed, a slow motion imitation of a fish caught in a bear's mouth.
"We underestimated them. As pacifists we believed the Humans would make an easy catch."
"Explain."
"When we first heard of the Humans we started standard infiltration to eventually annex their resources. But we were misled by what we discovered."
----
Quietly two satellites finish a trajectory that brings them into orbit about the Earth. Sent along a parabolic path that took them by the sun and around the moon, the trajectory was designed to allow them to take orbit without detection by the residents below. Extending antennas they start picking up what radio frequencies they could find, sophisticated computers learning what is being transmitted and translating the information into a format the Brill could understand. Most chatter was automated; timestamps, transactional information. Some was positional data for floating boats on the oceans of this water world, or transmission between the planet and small mining ships in the asteroid belt, around Mars or on the various moons of Jupiter and Saturn.
There appeared to be a lot of entertainment as well, in a variety of different spoken languages. But there appeared to be no central database or informational source detected, no mechanism to query databases below. One of the satellites launched a small probe towards the oceans of the planet where a data transmission line was detected; hopefully it would tap into the computer networks of this world and gather more information.
But everything these two satellites detected indicated what other races had reported: that this was a single species, wealthy in resources, with a single world government. All the programming received confirmed that they were a peaceful race, prizing pacifism. They had multiple religions but all which spread the same message of peace. They were a capitalist species, but capitalism seemed to be in its final stages of evolution for a world such as this: goods have become so cheap due to wealth and automation there was little left to buy beyond land and influence. And unlike most other species, most of the residents of this world engaged in pacifistic rituals every 7 days, engaging in group meditation and prayer.
The conclusion of the Grand Master and his advisors: the world was ripe for capture. The residents of this world were surprisingly peaceful, having only one world government. They were surprisingly wealthy due to the natural resources of an astroid belt comprised of a failed planet which they were just beginning to exploit. They appeared to have no military caste beyond peace keepers, and little crime for those peace keepers to fight. There was no need in this case to wait for the surface probe to return the results of the history of this planet.
----
The invasion force popped into existence on the far side of the Sun: thousands of points of light turned into thousands of ships of various sizes, with the largest, the Brill command post, in the center. The UN SOHO 3 platform saw them wink into existence, but never reported its findings: a single shot from a coherent laser cannon guaranteed that.
The standard invasion process devised by the Grand Master of the Fleet was simple: first, destroy any ship yards farthest from the target, then press inwards: a standard plan successfully used on several other worlds annexed by the Brill. They expected little resistance, and in fact they encountered none as they approached the Europa shipyards.
They did receive a series of transmissions from the shipyards in orbit around Europa and from a base on the surface of that moon of Jupiter, which they ignored. A squadron of ships was dispatched, and met no resistance as they destroyed the orbital platforms and the space elevator, a small thin structure which tied the surface buildings to the platforms in orbit.
The Europa asteroid mining repair base was destroyed.
What happened next was entirely expected: the two orbital satellites around the Earth reported an increase in traffic, chatter which was repeated via a tight transmission laser to the central command ship. All was going very well, the Grand Master thought.
----
Meanwhile the lone surface probe sent to tap into the computer networks of this world finally gained access, and started trying to learn the protocols used by the Humans on their home world, then downloading and analyzing any history stored in any connected databases.
And it transmitted upwards a dire warning, one which was lost in the flux of transmissions to the Brill command center.
----
The First stopped the Grand Master's story.
"Why was the warning from your ground probe ignored?"
The Grand Master looked directly into the eyes of the First, an aggressive gesture he almost instantly regretted: "When our technicians finally found the warning in the millions of teraquads of data we received from our orbital satellites, it was already too late."
|
This is my second attempt at a poem, so any and all feedback/criticism is more than welcome. More of my work can be found at /r/liswrites.
---
Humans are gentle
And will always shy away
From war.
Humans are kind creatures
Who look for the best
In each other
And find it
In strangers.
If you should ever find yourself
Alone
Look to the humans.
If there is any hope
It lies with them,
In their soft eyes
And warm hearts.
They come from a world
Full of danger.
A world
Of fire and ice,
Of oceans and deserts.
But humans are gentle
And they tame the wild land
To make it give flowers,
Give wheat,
Give life.
The humans,
Gentle.
Yet, still
The humans
Remain fierce.
They love their deadly world
With unrivalled passion.
The same hands
That welcome you
In your hour of despair
Will bare arms
In their hour of need.
Do not cross the humans.
The humans are fierce creatures
With wild manes
With gnashing teeth
And sharp claws.
Even more deadly
Than the humans
Are their ships of fire
And death.
Their rockets
Will always find you
And follow you
Until you are no more.
Beware the humans.
Beware their world
Their weapons
Their bodies.
But know
The humans are gentle
With their flowers,
Their hands,
Their hope.
| 2017-02-14T02:43:04 | 2017-02-13T20:49:06 | 39 | 24 |
[WP] You have the ability to know a lie when you hear it, and to know the truth when lied to. Society appoints you to a high judiciary position, but there's nobody to check if YOU'RE lying when you decide justice. Which case do you remember most?
Edit: Hi, guys! I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who visited or pitched in, this got way more attention than I expected and was a lot of fun! Looking forward to more, keep up the good work everyone!
|
Every bit of power comes with a price. So did mine. No one could ever figure out what it was that caused me to have this particular power but of course my mother claimed God had special plans with me that he would tell me when the time was right. Yeah, probably. What I did know was that it was hard to always do the right thing. Well, legally the right thing.
Ever since the police in my small hometown realized my "talent" to somehow see if someone was lying, they had asked me to assist in courtrooms. It started when I was 16 and I would probably do it for a pretty long time because let's be honest, the salary was convincing. As was I when I lied about someone being guilty or not.
There were cases where I had parents locked up because they were beating the shit out of their children but were accused of other stuff like leaving them home alone longer than you should leave a five year old watching a two year old (which is not at all). They hadn't left the children alone even though the shady babysitter they'd hired was probably worse than leaving them alone. Still they got charged for exactly that.
Other cases were simpler. A man who beat up the guy that had been sleeping with his wife. I sympathized.
A woman who poisoned her abusive husband who had threatened to kill her and had almost fulfilled that promise several times.
I had somewhat similar cases before but this one case... It still goes under my skin.
A boy was accused of killing his father. And I knew he'd done it. What I didn't know was why so I stalled. Asking more and more questions to find out the whole truth. They had been an almost perfect family. The father made a lot of money, the mother stayed at home and cared for her son. The only thing that made this family less perfect was how they had a daughter a few years ago but she died an infant. It had been horrible. Aside from that though, everything looked perfect except that it apparently wasn't. For some reason this sixteen year old boy had felt the need to shoot his father in the chest. Five times.
"What happened the day your father was shot?"
This was the tenth time I'd had asked that question and the judge started to grow irritated.
Please, please give me a truth I can tell them. But there was something in his eyes that told me he wasn't going to say anything more than already had. So I pulled the last straw.
"Your honour, if I may take him outside of the courtroom for five minute I might be able to get a better result. I know this is unconventional but I know that there is more to the truth than I can grasp here."
To my surprise the judge agreed and we were brought into a conference room where we sat down quietly and looked at each other for a moment before I broke the silence.
"Listen to me. I know that you did it. But I also know that you did it for a reason. Now, we can go back out there and I'll tell them all I know, that you took your dad's gun and shot him out of boredom. You'll go to prison for a long time for that. Or you tell me what happened and we can figure this out together."
That is when he finally broke. Tears started to run down his face as he began to speak.
"He killed my sister. She didn't die of natural causes, he killed her. I knew it and I never did anything because... Because mom told me to keep quiet, to not ruin things for her. And I love my mom, what was I supposed to do? But I just couldn't take it anymore." His voice broke and he lowered his head into his hands.
Tears were stuck in my throat as well but I held them back.
"How did he kill her? What happened that you now finally snapped?"
"He talked about having another baby. How he loves babies and wants another one. As if Cecilia had never lived. He didn't love her. He didn't love me. He... the day she died I came home to her crying but then it suddenly stopped. Something didn't feel right so I went to check on her. He was there, in bed with her and... And..." The tears overwhelmed him but I understood. I was unable to speak for a moment, unable to process what I thought he had just told me.
"He... raped her?"
The boy couldn't speak. He could only nod.
"Oh my god." I was unable to hold the tears back at this point.
"My mother kept it secret. No one ever saw Cecilia again because they had her cremated in the blink of an eye."
He looked up and right into my eyes.
"How could he do this? How could she let him get away with it?"
I got up and wrapped my arms around him. He was barely ten years younger than me but in this very moment I knew that he was going to be my responsibility from now on.
"Everything is going to be alright." I kept saying it, chanting it like a mantra. And it would be true. I would make sure of it.
We left the conference room and back in the courtroom I told the judge that I knew everything now. The boy had come home from school one day to his mother holding the gun in her hands. I left out how he had killed her daughter because it would have only given her a lesser sentence. She struggled, screaming that she didn't do it, that her evil son had taken the love of her life from her and I just wanted to vomit all over the floor. This poor child.
She got charged with murder and was going to be gone for quite some time. I had asked for the boy to stay with me instead of foster homes and for some wild reason it was granted. So now, years later, I have my own children but they will always know him as their big brother who would always love and protect them like they were his actual siblings.
Maybe my mom had been right, even if I'd never admit it in front of her. Maybe this power had been given to me for a reason and I had finally found it in that courtroom.
|
"I'm curious, why bring up a case against someone who's no longer living?"
"For justice, your honor."
'*True. No, it can't be... It's not possible that he would do something like this.*'
Someone at the rear courtroom shouted. "Liar!" The outburst was met with harmonious cheers and applause.
'*Keep these people under control.*'
"Order! I will have order in this chamber!" I pounded the gavel and the mob settled. "You do understand that what you state to be true is highly unlikely, and that I will know if you are lying to me?"
"Yes, your honor." He had an honest face, and his words reflected it.
"Then answer honestly, did the person in this photograph make unsolicited sexual advancements toward you?"
He examined the portrait on the easel in front of him, I could see the disgust in his eyes. "Yes." The crowd murmured a bit at his response.
'*True.*'
"Did you ask him to stop, and did he ignore your requests?"
The fire in his eyes, a true hatred. "Yes." The crowd's anger rose.
'*True.*'
"One last question: Were you molested by the person in this photograph?"
His eyes were filled with tears now, but he answered firmly. "Yes." An eruption of furious slurs lashed out from those in the crowd.
*True. No. Oh, God, no...*
The mob was fuming, and I had to act quickly before things got out of hand. "Order! You will all sit down or be banished from this chamber!" The crowd settled, and I knew what had to be done.
"You have come to this courtroom with accusations against the most beloved figure in this community, and as I suspected, they are falsehoods." Roaring cheers filled the room. People stood up and hugged, most were crying tears of pure joy.
"No... No, you're lying!" The boy struggled and screamed as the guard pulled him away, but nobody could hear his words over the people's celebration.
'*This is the only way. The people will get more from the idea he represented, than from the jellybean he actually was....*'
r/BeagleTales
| 2018-05-16T00:09:16 | 2018-05-15T21:38:10 | 237 | 48 |
[WP] Humans have this idea that they are feared throughout the galaxy because they are willing to use any half baked, harebrained, or otherwise impossible plan to win a war. This amuses the rest of the galaxy to no end, so they play along just to see what humans think will work this time.
|
'They did *what*?' General Xero asked in shock and horror at the statement he just heard from his spy.
'What I just said, sir,' Chi said with surprise and horror. 'A group of humans - not military, just tourists - found out that a friend of theirs was being illegally detained by a Kardatin Military Police chief and was about to be tortured. So they freed him.'
'You mean they broke into a heavily armed military compound?' Xero asked.
'...No.'
---
He was chained into the seat by a pair of shackles on his wrists as the captain played music on the computer. She was lovingly staring at her needles, knives and other tools, polished to a glistening shine as the guards watched with stoic faces.
'You know, I've come to appreciate this "Beethoven", as you humans call it,' she stated. He wasn't entirely aware if she meant the type of music, the artist's style or just the artist in general... Yeah, she was a racist bitch. 'I like those calm little moments before the storm. Can you hear it? It's like putting your head to the grass and you can hear the crawling of the insects, gathering and burrowing. This is the Ninth Symphony, right? Fourth movement?'
'Bitch, are you actually going to torture me or are you trying to talk music theory?'
'Well, I see you're gonna be a tough nut to crack so trying to interrogate you under torture isn't going to work,' she stated as she disappointedly put a spiked poker down. 'I'm supposed to keep this planet safe from terrorists or enemy agents. I'm very good at my job, only letting the least dangerous to keep myself in a job. Just have to flag you as a potential threat, torture you until you "Confess" then die in my custody... but to be honest, I like just hurting people. I know you're innocent but hey... everyone needs a hobby.'
'And people let you get away with this shit?' the human asked. 'What about diplomatic retaliations and-'
'Oh please,' the torturer said, 'those are just obstacles. The politicians just talk about how you were caught smuggling weapons, make up lies for me... But enough of that. This is our private time.'
'You know what?' the human said with a grin. 'I agree.'
Her bodyguards were detained in holographic barriers as the chains fell to the floor. Before she knew it the human's forehead struck her own, sending her reeling to the ground before he kicked her in the head to knock her out.
'Sineád,' he said as he approached the computer. 'I'm opening the flood gates.'
'We can't download to our servers, it will just cause a war,' the voice in his earpiece said. 'You'll have to take a local copy with you to the extraction point.'
'Downloading all the videos,' he said as he placed a drive onto the desk. 'Hopefully this can go rather smoothly.'
And that was when the alarms went off. 'Good timing,' Sinéad lambasted him.
'Got it,' he said as he started running. He grabbed the torturer's pistol and the chains he was restrained with as guards left the elevator he ran past. They opened fire, shooting at concrete walls as he turned the corner.
'Just straight ahead,' Sinéad told him.
'I can't believe I'm doing this,' he said as he shot forward.
'You wanted an escape route,' Sinéad said dully.
'You fucking *bitch*!' he screamed as he jumped through the window, falling so far that he reached terminal velocity. He was able to wrap the chain around the support cable, locking the shackles together and riding the cable down into the sea.
He then swam back towards the island, breaking back into the military base in via a small hole in the fence and then reached the extraction point.
'Alright, coast is clear,' Sinéad said with satisfaction. 'See you back at the starport.'
---
'They broke back *in*?' Xero asked in confusion.
'Correct, sir,' Chi said with a chuckle. 'There was a military parade planned for that evening. In fact, the parade started as he was swimming back to shore. He hid within a vehicle and spent the entire parade broadcasting stolen data from the vehicle. His secondary extraction point off-world was the spaceport which was right next to the parade's destination. In fact, if not for galactic law claiming space ports as international space then they'd basically be the same facility.'
'But those military vehicles have full personnel in case of a terrorist attack,' Xero said. 'How could a *human* hide among a military crew?'
'Oh, I didn't tell you?' Chi asked. 'He hid in the Kardatin Emperor's personal transport.'
Xero dropped his glass of imported human scotch onto the ground, the fine crystal shattering on impact. He recovered rather shortly after and leaned onto the desk, Californian Oak raised on Mars, nearly falling out of his cordovan shell leather armchair. Humans were truly excellent craftsmen, even if they weren't the best.
'What?'
'He approached the emperor, claiming he was a member of the Human Alliance's foreign espionage agency,' Chi said with a chuckle, almost laughing so hard he couldn't continue, '...He told the emperor that a mole in his Military Police was kind enough to pass on that the military police chief was abusing her position for her own hobby as a serial killer and then *handed over the data he stole* just before the parade started. The drive had a virus which hijacked the Emperor's personal and *unmonitored* connection to broadcast the files on the drive off-world.'
'Oh, Spirits of Nature,' Xero said in horror.
'And the Emperor gave the human a full pardon!' Chi said as he began laughing again. 'It's like a fucking joke, isn't it?'
'Oh my god,' Xero said in shock. 'Humans really *are* that crazy. Who was this kid?'
'No clue,' Chi stated. 'When the story broke on Earth, the authorities couldn't reveal the suspect's name because... you're gonna need a stiff drink after this... It's a breach of journalistic standards and ethics to identify *children under police investigation*.'
Xero fainted. Chi couldn't stop laughing and was soon rolling on the floor, gripping his increasingly sore belly.
Perhaps these humans weren't so foolish after all...
|
Bathed in the dim glow of the hologram illuminating the otherwise lightless surveillance post, the scaled creature uttered what might have been akin to a laugh. The rumors had made the rounds throughout the nests earlier in the previous weeks, but he had to see it himself.
"That's not possible," the commander began, barely able to keep a straight face-- or whatever passed for straight within their species. "You are jesting, yes? I'll have your tail on the Capitol arch by the next day."
The lieutenant, shrouded in the darkness, struggled to get a breath out from between rounds of convulsing laughter. "This footage was recorded by a... Rix scout formation en route to the established position behind human lines. Authenticity has been confirmed by delegates from all seven subordinate species, Hegemon."
Floating above the metal-bound energy core, the ghostly blue-hued recording of a line of armored human soldiers enacting a series of jumps, screams, frantic waves, and some sort of ritual involving the back end of a soldier and a stun grenade belt continued to progress. The phantoms, a stark contrast to the blackness of the viewing chamber, made several more thrusts from the hip before picking up their pulse rifles, charging several meters forward, and repeating the sequence.
"The Dzani spotters were the first to figure it out. A human bent over backwards while reaching for a smoke grenade under sniper fire, and a particularly devious member of the pint-sized troublemakers signalled for his detachment to cease fire that instant. The next time the Dzani began firing again, the same human bent over backwards and the midgets stopped that moment."
At this point, only a clicking sound echoed throughout the viewing chamber-- the equivalent of a hysterical saurian laugh. The lieutenant gestured at the device mounted to the vaulted ceiling, and a distorted image of an entire battalion of humans contorted in a way no vertebrate should ever be able to bend.
"Within seventeen salvos, the Dzani had them like this... Then the pygmies started with religious statues in the nude and the humans resorted to *this*."
The lizardlike commander fell to the floor with a crash, his gray tail twitching once under the plasma-resistant armor plates before falling still. The Hegemon's face was twisted from laughter, dyed an unearthly shade of purple from asphyxiation.
It had been the third such loss the Hegemony's leadership had suffered in the last month during the campaign against the humans.
"Giransk, it's the Legatus. Commence erection of the monument to the branch-wielding human we discussed. Remember: retreat only once they begin removing their garments and waving the rods around."
| 2017-05-24T16:32:47 | 2017-05-24T16:06:28 | 63 | 13 |
[WP] You manage to hold your eyes open while sneezing. What you see will haunt you for the rest of your life.
|
I'd been in the hospital for three days and my eyes were killing me. I'd been admitted late on Friday night because, different to my usual quiet night in with a beer and some soft core pornography, I had decided to leave the pigsty I called my apartment and go out on an adventure.
So the night got pretty crazy pretty quickly. I rang up a few mates and asked what they were doing; miraculously they were all free so just an hour after my initial spur-of-the-moment decision we were out and getting sufficiently sloshed. It was about 9PM and I was drunkenly fumbling for my wallet in order to buy another round when Steve approached me, somewhat cautiously. I was apprehensive; Steve is a 300lb, broad set black man to whom the word "cautious" cannot generally be applied.
"Hey man," he said, his eyes darting nervously to look at the clock behind the bar, "I've got some blow, you want some?"
If you've ever done drugs you'll probably be aware that one of the first things you learn when you do them is that they are tremendously fun, but prohibitively expensive. I was not much of a fan of cocaine, but it was free and I was drunk so I slurringly belched,
"Hell yeah, let's do it!"
About 30 minutes later I was sufficiently wired, and was arguing with Steve about who was 'the most black' out of the two of us (for context I am 5'2" and of Phillipino heritage) when out of the blue he snorted,
"I'm so black I can sneeze with my eyes open."
"Bullshit," I scoffed, "that's impossible. Even the blackest man ever couldn't sneeze with his eyes open."
"Nah man, I can do it, watch!"
I smiled slyly to myself, as I knew I was about to witness a gargantuan thirty-seven year old man sneezing frustratedly for at least ten minutes. Steve stuck a finger up his nose and scratched around, all the while telling me he'd do it first time and prove outright that he was the blackest man in town. I was drunk, so the whole thing was the funniest thing I'd ever seen. After a minute or so he leant back, breathed sharply inwards, and sneezed.
It was the loudest sneeze I'd ever heard. There are no words to describe the deafening display of mucus projection that I witnessed. He did it though, I held eye contact with him as he sneeze, he really had sneeze with his eyes open.
After a solid 30 seconds of laughing, I realised that Steve hadn't made a sound since he had sneezed. He was just sat there, staring.
"Uh, Steve, you okay mate?" I asked, getting up to move towards him.
"Stop, stop right there." he snapped quickly, coldly.
Now I was worried. Drunk and wired, but worried. In a momentary lapse of judgement, fuelled perhaps by the drugs racing through my system, I decided that I too needed to sneeze with my eyes open. I started to scratch around inside my nose, and soon I was ready to go.
I did it. Then there were two people sat silently starting ahead of them.
After an hour or so one of us finally spoke.
"Di-did you see the same thing I saw?" I stammered, barely able to contain myself.
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I did." replied Steve, quietly, solemnly.
We'd seen it all. In that split second we had witnessed all of time up until this day, every last minute of every day in each and every corner of the world. I struggle now to remember much of what I saw, and it chills me to the bone to even think about that night, but I saw more than anyone should ever seen, and so did Steve.
A few minutes after our brief exchange of words, we both promptly went absolutely insane. I was writhing and screaming on the floor, torn apart by the agony of what I had witnessed; Steve was punching incessently at the walls, crying out in abject horror. Soon someone called an ambulance. It didn't take much to contain me, but it took 4 burly police officers and a paramedic with a tranquiliser before Steve was able to be hauled to the hospital.
The doctors told us we'd experience temporary insanity due to the drugs in our system, but we knew he was wrong (about the cause, at least).
My coping method was to forget, so that's what I did. I remember the events leading up to that heart-stopping moment and the proceedings afterwards, but that is all. I remember a few important details about a few important people, but I'll take that information to the grave with me.
Now when people say "bless you" when I sneeze, I really do feel blessed.
|
They surround me, they surround all of us. It all started a year ago the morning after that party. My friend Tom had taped my eyelids open when I was sleeping off a hangover that morning and as he did it, I did the worst thing that I could have done, I sneezed. As the sneeze escaped me, I felt something change, reality rippled and then cracked, something changed. All around the room I saw eldritch abominations, horrors beyond comprehension and yet, no one else could see them. They all started laughing when I was freaking out on but soon, they realised that something was wrong and when they called the hospital, I was in there for a week, eventualy having to pretend that I was fine and they put it down to the shock of sneezing with my eyes taped open combined with the alcohol in my system. Now, I have to pretend that I'm fine, pretend that I'm not seeing monsters, that both confuse and horrify me, everywhere that I look; wishing that oneday I won't be able to see them but even if they dissapear from sight, I'll always know that they are all around us and they know that we can't see them but they can see us.
| 2016-04-01T07:33:28 | 2016-04-01T07:00:06 | 176 | 10 |
[WP] No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes.
|
"Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me!" The lady persisted.
I had tried to ignore her. That worked about half the time. "Yes?"
"One of your employees was very rude to me. He should be fired." She was red in the face and pointed an Shakey finger towards a young woman. The employee had a massive bun hairdo and blue eyeshadow, she was aloof to the event, tapping away at her smartphone.
I sighed and put a finger between my brow, "Listen ma'a-"
"No you listen. Your going to go out of business if you treat your customers this way." She put her hands on her hips and tilted her head forward.
"Like I was trying to say-"
"Oh excuses is it? Give me your corporate number. They're going to have a fit when they hear about this." She crossed her arms and scowled.
"I don't work here!" I shouted, the busy retail store froze and went silent. They all turned to see the commotion. Both of us glew red. She lowered her head and dashed for the door, forgetting her anger with the unbearable embarrassment.
I scratched the back of my neck and forced a laugh that wouldn't fool a child.
"Is everything alright sir?" A tall employee asked.
"Um that lady had a problem with one of your employees. And she mis-"
"I'm very sorry about that sir, I would've been more astute about there behavior today if I knew corporate was sending you." The tall man's eyes where downcast, his head slightly bowed.
"I don't actually-"
"You're right, I am ashamed of their behavior, you being here shouldn't change anything."
"That's true but-"
"I'll be sure to have a sitdown with them immediately, which one was it?" The man asked.
I took a deep breath, this same situation has happened what feels like a million times already. "I. Don't. Work. Here!" Yelling always broke the spell. Unfortunately it drew everyone else's attention as well. I blushed but tried to hide my embarrassment. I needed to be assertive, else they never listen.
The man's jaw dropped and he was at a loss for words. Most people were that way. They don't know how to react to me once the veil is lifted.
I grabbed the batteries I was looking for and headed to check out, leaving the frozen manager behind. The older woman looked at me from behind thick round glasses and squinted, then smiled in recognition.
"What's your employee ID sir?"
I slapped my hand to my face so hard it left a red mark. "I forgot." I just couldn't bring myself to yell at this sweet lady.
"That's ok. I'll use Jim's, some one like you probably has a lot on their mind to forget your numbers." She tapped on the keyboard in a memorized pattern.
"Ain't that the truth." I sighed, I looked at the register for the price. "Is this right? That's not even a quarter of the regular price.
She smiled sweetly and winked. "It's a great deal sir." I nodded feverishly, money was tight, my power made it impossible to work under anyone. This discount meant I could splurge on dinner tonight. I smiled at the thought of a full belly and almost drooled.
"Thank you so much, keep up the great work!" I said, she smiled and I felt warm. Not enough of these employees get the recognition they deserve.
"Have a wonderful afternoon sir."
"Oh I will." Thinking of the options for dinner. I strode out the door grinning from ear to ear. There was a young man in a black hoodie by an old white van staring at me with a thoughtful glare. I lowered my head not wanting to get involved with this shady looking character.
"What kinda shit you just pull?" He asked. He stepped into my path, not content to be ignored. "You heard me. I know you ain't deaf. What was all that."
"N-nothing, I don't know what you mean."
"Bull shit, everyone in there thinks you the boss or some shit. How the hell you do that?" He asked.
"Listen, I don't know. But it always happens. I'm sorry I got to go." I tried to step around, but he stayed in my path.
"Listen, names Regi. I'm something of a entrepreneur. I think you and me could make a lot of money together."
I paused and met his eyes. "What do you mean?"
He opened up the side door of the van on the opposite side of the store. The car was filled with expensive gadgets and gismos, it was a small fortune. "This the easiest job I ever done. And it's thanks to you. Together we could live like Kings, you get what I'm throwing down?
There was a deep lump in my throat, I knew this was bad news. But I've been so desperate for money. There had to be at least ten grand in that van.
"All right. What do you have in mind?"
|
I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit:
- [/r/idontworkherelady] [These are great! Not real stories but come on, if anything deserve a crossover on here its this.](https://www.reddit.com/r/IDontWorkHereLady/comments/96ttt1/these_are_great_not_real_stories_but_come_on_if/)
- [/r/u_grimlawd] [\[WP\] No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes.](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_GrimLawd/comments/96ul9h/wp_no_matter_where_you_are_what_youre_dressed/)
- [/r/u_jodicki] [USAA](https://www.reddit.com/r/u_jodicki/comments/96u3zy/usaa/)
&nbsp;*^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))*
| 2018-08-12T17:07:02 | 2018-08-12T17:05:21 | 215 | 18 |
[WP] You instantly copy and absorb all the knowledge of anyone you touch. The most you ever used this power for was passing exams, until you unknowingly shook hands with a government agent.
|
(Part 1 of 4)
My name is Sam, and I am a con man. I admit, I could do anything I wanted to do. Doctor, lawyer, tech genius, awkward shut in, but I think con man suits me well. And that is simply because I am all things to all people, and I can posses any skill I need to adapt to any situation. Further more, I can intimately know my target and how best to approach them. I'm a con man because it allows me to play pretend all the time. I get to be anyone I want to be anytime I want to be.
Except athletes. God damn it if I can never figure out sports. I get the mental aspect of it, but for the life of me I have zero coordination.
On this particular evening I was out drinking and having a good time, I shook a few hands, copied in a few new skill sets, and ended up talking to a ravishing young accountant with long red hair and a tapered thin waste. I admit, I was at least 4 shots of whiskey deep and at that point none of my hundreds of personalities can think straight. I don't know what I said, but my lips spilled out a concoction of words that were sweet as honey and within a few hours we were back at her place.
I rode the high of a new conquest through the low of the hangover, and we ended up talking in bed after the deed was done. We were playing my favorite game: "Telepathic Cold Read". I pretend I can read her mind and I ask her incredibly detailed questions about her life. She was a little too tipsy and kept giggling the entire time. She couldn't figure out how I knew what I knew, but in reality I was just recalling facts about her life. It didn't take me long to compare her accountant skills to the dozen others I already had and I knew she was average at best, a mid-level accountant who was a better with people than numbers but she still lacked self-confidence. In truth she would have made a better executive, and the CFO had taken a personal interest in her. She didn't realize that yet either, but a quick, objective review of her memories told me enough.
I scratched my chin. She knew the CFO of William & Fudge. Now that was a man I'd like to shake hands with. I'm sure he knew how to access all the accounts, especially the off the books ones with the discretionary spending accounts. The ones where if a few million disappear, no one looks too hard because it would draw too much attention.
I jumped out of bed and helped myself to her liquor cabinet, I already knew where it was, and she squealed from the bedroom, "Get me one too!" I poured two glasses and went back to the bedroom. She bit her lip and took the glass from my hand.
"So you're an accountant for William & Fudge right?" I asked.
She held the glass up to her forehead and nodded, "Yes, why do you ask?"
She had a problem, which meant that I had a problem. Since i copied her mind into my own, it was now puzzling me. I mentally poured over the numbers and files and used that data and combined it with my pre-existing accountant skills. I solved her puzzle, slightly buzzed and naked in her bed, before I even finished my drink. There was a very high chance that the CFO was moving money around in overseas accounts and stealing a portion of the revenue for himself. But she didn't know that yet.
The problem with my talent is that I couldn't just tell people what they need to know, I had to guide them to it in a round about way. Even that wasn't the hard part. The hard part was making them think they needed me afterwards.
"Oh nothing, I work in the finance department for Baskin Lentils and we just heard a rumor about your CFO..." I dangled the bait and waited. I reached out and touched her hand, and a fresh update of her thoughts flooded into my mind. The alcohol was making her fuzzy, and her thoughts weren't completely coherent, but I saw the face of a man in her mind. The CFO. She thought he was a smug bastard and didn't care for the guy, but the smell of gossip compelled her to take the bait.
"A rumor?" She gave me a positively radiant smile, "Those can be dangerous in our line of work."
Translation: "Tell me everything."
Of course, I was still holding her hand, so I knew exactly what she wanted.
"Oh nothing much, but BL thinks they are doing some insider trading."
She snorted, "Who isn't these days." Her eyes went wide and she clamped a hand over her mouth. Alcohol did marvelous things. I laughed and agreed. A little positive affirmation after a secret would help her open up more. "Between that and the tax evasion what aren't they getting into," she said.
Bingo. She was on the right path, but she wasn't making the connection yet to her problem.
"I don't know how you accountants do it. Running the numbers is hard enough without having the man in charge making alterations on his own. You didn't hear this from me, but BL just had to do something internal restructuring. They just fired about a dozen people involved in a coverup."
She let out a sigh and swirled her drink around in her glass, "It is a pain in the ass, I've been working on this one particular problem and I-"
Her eyes lit up. The connection was made, and I knew her mind well enough to know that she was following that trail of numbers. She rolled over in bed and placed the glass on the end table. Then she produced a laptop from under a ruffled pillow and put on some elegant thin frame glasses. I saw a memory of her face with her hair pulled up in a bun and a pencil pushed through the middle. This was her busy thinking face, and she looked absolutely tantalizing.
"What is it?" I asked.
She was lost in thought as her fingers flew over the keyboard. I rose to my feet for a second time and helped myself to her fridge. No more tequila. This time I came back with an aspirin and a Gatorade. Her usual go to.
94 minutes later, two phone calls, and visible stress on her face and she looked at me with surprise, "I'm sorry... I didn't plan for this. You can go if you need to."
I smile, "Do you like eggs?" Yes. She does. I know that, but she doesn't know that I know that. I also know exactly how she likes her eggs. Scrambled with a little butter, runny, and lots of pepper. Just like grandpa used to make. Sadly, she has no idea how to make it or even how much she likes it since she hasn't had it in years. But I figured I would remind her.
She nods, and I pull up the 57 chefs I have in my head already, I pull some general pointers from the lot and go about making her eggs, comparing her memory of the eggs against the memories of the professional chefs. I find a match, and create a perfect dish. It only took 6 minutes in total.
She was drawn to the kitchen by the smell alone, we both were instantly taken back to grandpa's house on Saturday morning when he made scrambled eggs and hashbrowns. I didn't make the hashbrowns, she didn't have potatoes, and I thought that was too heavy handed on my part.
She took one bite and I saw her eyes light up. Her body visibly relaxed, and I knew her mind... (our mind?) was making a subconscious comparison between her grandfather and me. A thought, a feeling, a concept of trust was established with just 3 eggs and a bit of butter. She didn't consciously realize it happened , but it did.
"This is amazing," she moaned, "My grandfather used to make them just like this."
I smiled at her, "I see he was a man of good taste then."
She nodded.
&#x200B;
(End Part 1 - part 2 in comments below)
|
As the rush of information into my brain stops and I return to reality I look up to see the face of the man who won’t let me pull my hand away, a grin stretches across his face like a hideous toothy wound.
“He knows” I say internally, within his memories I saw the agents being briefed, their plan to surround me is taking place right this moment!
Almost as if in response to my phonological loop the agent’s toothy scar tears itself open, leaking out the stench of coffee and the nightmarish sound “we know” in a gruff voice stereotypical to the kind of monster who tortures people simply for possessing abilities beyond those of a normal human being.
The cold, dead, piercing eyes which lock on to mine leave me paralysed, I am so frozen in fear that I feel more constrained by the psychological assault than the physical grasp of his hand.
“W-what do you mean? Let go of me” I mutter whilst turning my head away in a desperate attempt to quell my nerves and stop the nervous shaking of my body —it doesn’t work— I see an army of black suit clad men and women, all with the same expression on their face.
“We made a mistake. Our little experiment to create a technocracy of superhuman’s failed, there was some dust that escaped from the lab, you just happened to be unfortunate enough to breathe in, I’m going to need you to come with us”
“Why are you trusting me with this information?”
“I’m not, you’ve already seen it in my memories haven’t you? We can’t allow people like you to exist; we’ll try to remove your abilities along with your memories of them. If we fail, you won’t be allowed to live. You’re a national security risk, these abilities should only be possessed by members of the government; people who are competent enough to wield them with the national interest in mind. Not self-important wastrels like you, who simply use them to advance your own shallow agendas such as having an advantage whilst courting the men who catch your fancy or accumulating experience and expertise in many fields just so you can show off at parties”
He said it completely monotone and matter of factly, casually letting me know I’m probably going to die, revealing all of my embarrassing uses for this ability and under that emotionless tone I hear jealousy, the jealousy of someone who feels like they deserved this ability more, they would have used it better and they want to take out that ill will on the person they perceive as having caused them that jealousy, like magma I can tell that the pressure of his jealousy is gradually building and if I’m not careful that magma will burst through his shallow mask of indifference, turning his face into an erupting volcano and will burn me to a crisp, the dread of not knowing when that burst will occur plays on my mind.
I glance around, desperate to find a route to escape... I can’t see any, just a sea of black suits and white teeth.
“It’s useless. Even if you did escape from here, we can track the dust particles flowing around in your blood stream, if you remove those, you’ll be untraceable and powerless and we won’t have a need to look for you anymore, if you keep those abilities then we will have a reason and way to find you, no matter where you go”
“I would remove them if I could! I don’t know how!”
“Neither do we, yet. That’s what these experiments are for. You’ll probably die, but think about all the people who might not thanks to your sacrifice to science, just come along peacefully and only your death won’t be painless.”
He pauses and breathes out yet another pungent cloud of coffee into my face.
“Resist, and you’ll suffer greatly for a long time before you die.”
This is my life, my ability, an ability I ended up with due to their mistakes, they may know about all of the times I’ve used this ability and therefore all of the skills I possess, but I will still find a way to get out of this, to stop this from happening to me!
To be continued...
Edit 1: minor corrections.
Edit 2: added a metaphor and elaborated on a description (magma -> jealousy metaphor and description).
Edit 3: grammar fixes. (Thanks to help from Alex_Bailey_12)
| 2021-01-13T19:45:52 | 2021-01-13T13:48:08 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] It was supposed to be a routine software upgrade, but now roombas are tracing pentagrams and summoning minor demons all across the country. You work in tech support.
|
"You're saying that your roomba has opened a gate to hell in the middle of your living room and that a demonic creature is climbing out right as we speak?"
"Yes."
"... Have you tried turning it on and off again?"
They hung up. Huh. It was a minor software update. Management didn't even bother telling me about it, because it really didn't matter. I was hoping I'd get to spend the downtime working on my superhero comic. It's got a nice twist: the heroes are assholes. I got the idea after a guy dressed like Thor vomited all over me at Comic-Con. But no. Of course something like this had to happen. Of course the roombas would start summoning hellbeasts.
"Hello, my name is Jared. How can I help you this evening?"
"Hi, Jared. My name is Alice. So, I'm not really good with technology you see. I got this rambo--is it called rambo? I don't even know--well I got it from my daughter, and she's in college now. Architecture. She's really talented, you know. But she doesn't come home all that often. And when she does we tend to get on each other's nerves. Can you believe it? We spend all this time apart and then once we finally get to be together we can't stand each other. It's just one of those things. Well, she got me this vacuum-robot thing and it's acting up. Like I said, I'm really not good with technology."
"What seems to be the problem, Alice?"
"Well, I don't know if it's a problem."
"Alright?"
"It's just, well, it might be working the way it's supposed to for all I know."
"It opened a gate to hell, did it?"
"Exactly."
"And there's a demon coming out of it, is there?"
"Just that, yes. It's normal, is it? Like I said, I'm not all that good with technology."
"I am sorry. We have been having some difficulties following the latest software update."
"That's all Greek to me, I'm afraid. Or Latin. This fellow here is saying something, and I think it's in Latin. Hold on, I think he wants to talk with you."
"Oh, right."
"*Quidquid latine dictum, altum videtur*."
"... What?"
"Hello? It's Alice again. He's rubbing his hands together. The demon, I mean. Is that normal?"
"I don't speak Latin, I'm afraid. I'm so sorry. We are working hard to fix this problem, I assure you, and we'll have it sorted in no time at all."
"I probably changed the settings somehow."
"Sorry?"
"The settings. Language. I did the same with the telly the other day. Suddenly all my shows had Spanish subtitles. And I don't speak Spanish. I had to make our gardener come inside and translate it for me. He'd been doing it for an hour when I realized that the shows were already in English and we had a good laugh afterward. How do I change the demon to English? Is there a button?"
"I don't think there's a button. Can you tell me what the demon looks like? And the portal. I'm having problems visualizing it from where I'm sitting."
"Oh. Sure, love. Let's see. He's tall. And there are horns on the sides of his head. Like on a ram. And he's wearing pants, thank God, but he's not dressed asides from that. He's got some nice muscles I might add. He reminds me of Rogelio from one of my favorite soaps, actually."
"He's not hurting you, is he?"
"Oh, not at all. He's having a look around. Seems he's just as confused as me. Hey! Demon! Leave that alone! I won that on a cruise! Put it down! Can you excuse me for a moment?"
"... Sure."
"Okay, I'm back. He's a bit mischievous, it seems. But I don't tolerate that sort of behavior. Do you think it would be fine to just put down a newspaper?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You know, in case he needs to ... well, you know. No! Sit down! We don't open the window at this hour. It gets drafty. Sorry. He's a lot, you see."
"Again, I do apologize for the inconvenience."
"Oh, it's alright. It's nice with some company, actually. It was just the speaking in Latin that bothered me. I don't speak it myself, so there's no use trying to have a conversation you see."
"The Latin is what bothers you."
"Yes."
"There's a portal to hell in your living room, opened by your roomba, and a demon crawled out from it. And him speaking Latin is what bothers you about this situation?"
"Yes? I don't know what's so hard to believe about that."
"Well ... I'm pretty sure demons only speak Latin."
"There's no English setting?"
"Not that I'm aware."
"Hmph. That's customer service for you these days. Not everyone knows Latin. I'm sick and tired of big companies acting as if we all learned it in school."
"Uh. Well. I'm sorry?"
"You better be. Well, I suppose it was worth a shot. Down from the sofa! Get down from there! Shoo! Hello? Well, I guess this is goodbye then."
"Uh, okay. G-Goodbye, Alice. If there are any more problems, don't hesitate to--"
"Yeah, yeah. I'll give you a ring."
It turned out that a programmer had mistaken a comma for a period and that was what had caused those whole kerfuffle. It was sorted out, and I stopped getting calls. Well. I did get one more.
"Hello, my name is--"
"Rogelio disappeared!"
"Alice? Is that you again?"
"I was making the boy a sandwich and he vanished into thin air. How do I get him back?"
"Wait, you're talking about the demon?"
"Who else? Rogelio. That's what I've been calling him. Is there a button?"
"A button? To open the portal to hell back up?"
"Yes."
"No. No, there's no such button."
"I swear, customer service these days ... It's all rubbish, I tell you!"
"Perhaps if you drew a pentagram on your floor by hand?"
"Oh. You think that would work?"
"It might."
"Hang on. Okay, I've got some chalk. Let's see. A pentagram looks something like this, doesn't it?"
"I can only hear your voice, Alice. I can't see what you're--"
"Oh! It's happening. The portal is opening again. Rogelio! There you are. I have your sandwich right here. Yes, good boy. Alright, you can go on the sofa, just sit on the blanket will you? Good boy!"
"Okay then. I guess it all worked out?"
"Yes! Thank you for your help. Goodbye now."
"Goodbye."
It all worked out in the end, fortunately.
*Quidquid latine dictum, altum videtur*.
|
Diane pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing as another call came through.
"Roomba tech support desk, what seems to be the problem?" Diane tried to keep her voice cheery, even though her head was starting to hurt. She was too busy for her head to hurt.
"Uh. I think my Roomba's having a seizure or something." Well wasn't that descriptive.
"Can you please explain what's happening with it sir?" The man on the other end made an indignant noise.
"I *just* said that it's acting all stupid. I don't know what you want from me. It's beeping and spinning-and ramming into the wall." Diane tried to resist the urge to hang up. She could put him on hold, and ignore him for an hour or so-it would be good for his tone. But then she'd have to deal with him later-with an even worse attitude. She'd rather just get it over with so she can log off for the day.
"Have you tried turning it off, and turning it back on again?"
"I-Yeah. Last time I did that it tried to eat my son's pacifier." Great, another new behavior to mark down.
"When-Uh, when was this sir?"
"Two hours ago-it, it was still in his mouth." Great, it *was* the new software update.
"Have you tried sending it to it's charging stand?"
"Tina! Tina-try sending it to that stand thing-the customer service lady said to-I don't *know*\-"
"Sir?"
"Just *do* it!" Diane winced as he got louder. She wasn't exactly pining for a man screaming in her ear. "It's not doing it."
"What?"
"It's not doing it. It's just gotten louder." She could hear that. Loud, and obnoxious rhythmic beeping was becoming the common background noise on each call. It still seemed better than the last call-some poor couple had some kind of horned-naked-baby thing appear in the middle of their bed to ride their Roomba-and the man before that was complaining of it bringing a grown 'man' in their toddlers room.
"Sir, did you spring for the 3.4 update that was made available last night?"
"*Tina*! Did you get that damned update?!"
"Sir-"
"Tina! That goddamn update was twenty dollars-"
"*Sir*! Did you, or did you not accept and reset the device for the *free* software update?"
"No."
"So the update is not on your device?"
"My wife put it on there." Diane fought to repress a sigh.
"So it is *on* the device correct?"
"Yes. Because of my wife."
"Great, so, we're going to need you to just let it wear itself out, and when it stops...what it's doing, you need to box it up-"
"I don't have it's box."
"Any box will do sir, just box it up, and mail it back, and we'll make sure you get a replacement *without* the update." Diane hung up the phone with a sigh, glancing at her cat, Tyler.
"Ty, I *told* Michael that joining hands with Memento Mori-nc, wouldn't be a good idea, but does anyone listen to Diane? No. They don't." She scratched him behind the ears, listening to her own roomba scream from behind her office door. "Guess I'll go get the hammer."
| 2022-01-30T10:01:43 | 2022-01-30T08:58:09 | 58 | 22 |
[WP] You were once the demon king. "Defeated" by the hero, you went into hiding to pursue a simpler life. Today the "hero" has appeared, threatening you family to pay tribute, not realizing who you actually are. Today you show them what happens when you have something worth fighting to protect.
|
The summer sun was hot as ever. I sat down in my chair on the porch, I had finished cleaning up the house and was just left with feeding the pigs. My wife was in the back garden, working on her vegetables and herbs. Fanning myself with a straw hat I saw three figures on horseback approach.
It was difficult to tell who they were. As they came closer, two had very fine armour with noble crests on them. I guessed rich sons by the fact there wasn't a scratch on them, never had to fight for their lives. The third however, his armour was even more decadent. Large, ornate with the kings insignia on the front, he towered the other two with ease. He removed his helmet.
It took all I had not to show my shock. It was him, Deren the Demon Slayer, the man who helped cause my downfall so many years ago. My grip tightened on the armrests as he spoke.
"We are envoys from the king, the tributes have come early and we are here to collect on his behalf". He looked down on me from his horse, there was something off about his eyes.
"My apologies noble knight, but we weren't expecting tributes for another month or so. We are mainly pig farmers" I waived my hand towards the pig pen. The noble to the right whispered to his companion "Takes one to raise one". They thought I couldn't hear, but I could. I continued "The pigs are due to be sold in but a week's time or so, right now all our money is tied up with them. I kindly ask of you for that time and we are sure to give the tributes worthy of the king!", now standing up from the chair and bowing deeply.
I hadn't met Darens gaze yet. He bellowed "YOU DARE MOCK US AND THE KING IN SUCH A MANNER!". I raised my head to see his face twisted in anger, as if I had made a slight against everything he held dear. None of it made sense to me. Who were those two with him? What happened to the others? That cowardly mage, his knees would shake in every fight but that never stopped him from being a pain, where was that she beast who tore through my soldiers like they were old parchment where..... It all made sense then.
Daren dismounted his horse and unsheathed his sword. "I am the chosen of the gods, I am the slayer of the demon king, I am the kings chosen, my word is the word of god for the likes of you". I heard my wife enter the house through the backdoor, she was probably watching all this and holding junior. At that moment I looked deep into Daren, the last time I did I was blinded by the light of the gods. He was empty now. The noble squire who formed a band that led to my downfall had become a vile bully I would have employed once upon a time. His divine power and right were nothing but an illusion.
I started to laugh. It was too beautiful.
"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA", it wasn't a nice laugh. Spit flying everywhere as I howled from the pit of my stomach, had I needed air I would have probably chocked a bit. Doubling over holding my gut. The nobles were taken aback by this one remarking "The old guy is daft, lets deal with him and move on". Daren pulled back his sword as I laughed. "DIE YOU INSOLENT CUR". The blade flew towards me. I simply flicked my wrist.
That cursed blade had once pierced my shields, my armour and eventually my chest. Had it gone in an inch further I would have died long ago. Now it shattered against my shield, the tip cracking away as the fractures snaked along the entire length. Daren pulled back, his face in shock. Wiping away spit from my chin I finally spoke.
"I can't fucking believe it. After all these years, oh, it's too good" my voice went deep, back to me original one. Daren realized who he was dealing with. "Im-im-impossible he stuttered".
Taking the moment of weakness I looked into his mind, he had no divine protection anymore. Turning around I closed the door to the house and gestured to my wife to close the curtains.
"How the mighty have fallen. You told everyone I was dead, but you knew it wasn't true. Defeat was not good enough so you decided to stretch the truth to breaking point. That pushed away all your friends and allies, they refused to live the lie you made. Your ego got the better of you, finally convincing yourself that my defeat was your doing and yours alone. Tsk-tsk."
The nobles had realised who I was and turned their horses to run. A single swipe of my hand was all it took, the horses rode for a couple of more seconds before the riders heads hit the ground. Daren turned around mounting his horse and trying to run now, but it was too late.
"I was a fool back then. I had nothing and no one to fight for. Just my vanity and ego, but now I have something worth protecting from the monsters". Daren didn't have a chance to scream.
That night we were eating dinner. Junior was being picky with his carrots again, so I took him into my lap to try and get him to eat. My wife had asked me what the yelling was about, I simply said some thugs who made empty threats, not unusual in these parts. She didn't press the issue further. The only thing she wanted to know after was If I had used another feed for the pigs. She had never seen them eat so well.
|
A demon king, it’s what they called me. I’ll be honest I enjoyed it, the ravaging I’d villages the terrorizing of innocents it was fun while it lasted, the fact that I was a demon king of fear and not death was a plus as well. I could simply inspire fear and feed myself. Not have to go on any crazy killing sprees. But where dark rises light comes to combat it. So I was struck down, dreadfully wounded I used the last of my power to pull together a more human form for myself. Ridding myself of my ghastly black skin and creating a body, not a perfect one but good enough for one struggling to breath. I entered it and began a more simplistic life as a hunter. Now look at where I am.
The one that defeated me was still as immaculate as ever. Except there was now a rotten air about him, no doubt some artifact stolen from my former castle cursed with corruption. He claimed to be working for the emperor. And was demanding tribute, all Niea and I had in the world was our house and each other. My wife looked desperately at me, knowing to some extent what I had done in the past. She was the only one who had forgiven me, and I’ll be damned if I was going to let some pompous asshole take her from me. So I struck at him, I stuck at him with anger and wrath at the sight of him, I struck him because of the way he looked over my wife, I struck him because I could smell the blood on him. And yet, it was not a killing blow. I considered it, by the elder gods and the chains of Sinar I did, but no. Better to let him live in fear, so I cursed him and brought him far away. He would wake, terrified, in a strange place. With nothing to hide behind. And I? I would be here with my wife. Both of us content, and safe.
| 2020-09-23T04:49:06 | 2020-09-23T04:29:51 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are successful partly because we're omnivores and this holds true on the galactic scale as well. In the future humans have quickly become feared throughout the Milky Way as our soldiers are ready to eat almost anything...or anyone.
|
Tilgar, Head Waiter for the Ambassador Tikleen, stormed into the kitchen of the ambassador’s home, startling the cooks. He glared at them menacingly as they quickly scurried across the room attempting to avoid the look of ire. No one wanted to be flayed, or have their wings clipped for failure, so they returned to their duties at a respectable distance. Fortunately, Tilgar was not angry at any of them, he was angry at his supposed assassin, or “The Head Chef.”
“Golx,” he roared as he barreled over pots, pans, and other cooking implements.
Another Gilaxin stuck his head out from around a wall with a coy look on his face; a look that quickly dissolved when he saw the enraged coloration of Tilgar’s eyes. “Sir?”
Tilgar grabbed Golx by an antenna and drug him into the store room. Closing the door behind him he struck the would-be-assassin upside the head. “You said the plan was foolproof. We poison the food with animal protein causing them to get sick. Once sick, they agree to more favorable terms for us due to the embarrassment and our ‘shame’ at them not finding the food appealing. This is how Gilaxin’s do things; this is how we’ve always done things!”
Golx nodded his head rapidly showing that he understood. He was about to speak when Tilgar cut him off again.
“The Treaty of Klinscark was signed because of this method, Golx; the treaty that gave us superiority over the Bloomsi!” Tilgar waved two of his arms around in frustration before finally calming down and looking coldly at Golx. “What do you have to say for yourself, Golx?”
“It should have worked,” Golx said as he struggled to comprehend his failure. He had disguised the animal protein inside a leaf wrapping with seeds. It resembled a common dish on Gilax and would thus go unnoticed. He even ground up the animal protein in such a way that it was small and string-like, and thus resembled leafy strands of the telk plant. “I took all the necessary precautions. I even ground it up to resemble seeds so that the Earth ambassadors were sure to eat it.”
Tilgar rubbed his antennae together before he finally growled low, “You need to go out there and find out what went wrong. You’re the Head Chef, so go act like it!” He then turned, opened the door, and returned to the festivities like he had merely gone to check on the kitchen.
Golx re-adjusted his hat (a ridiculous human-like hat that resembled a fungus) and walked calmly through the kitchen. Arriving at the door he quickly steeled himself, put on his most presentable face, and pushed through the doors to the dining hall.
It really was an exquisite hall. The dirt had been shaped into windows and pillars and polished smooth to a glass. The table was wood, of course, and the Gilaxin and the Humans sat around the table in apparent merriment. They all seemed unaware of the uncomfortable color that the Gilaxin’s eyes were turning. Only the Ambassador maintained his composure. They all, of course, knew about the poisoning attempt. Vomiting, or leaving unexpectedly, was a huge social misstep for the Gilaxin’s and had been used to their advantage over the millennia. Again and again they had poisoned the food so as to insure a misstep, causing ‘embarrassment and anger’ on the part of the Ambassador, who would then demand more favorable terms to treaties and alliances. It had never failed.
Sliding gracefully over to human side of the table, he quickly scanned the plates and saw that every human had eaten the animal protein without issue. Many appeared to have gotten second helpings, or even a third. They were eating it and everything else with relative ease and enjoyment. Golx approached the human Ambassador, Calvin Xing, and coughed respectfully to get his attention.
Xing turned and beamed up at him, “Ah, Golx correct?” Golx nodded to show that Xing was correct. “Excellent food; truly excellent. The meat was exquisite.”
Meat? Golx mulled over in his head and realized he was not familiar with this word. His eyes turned a worrying shade of blue as he attempted to sound out the word, “Meat?”
“Yes, meat,” Xing said as he waved his hand in the direction of the cleverly disguised animal protein. “I knew your race was vegetarian, only eating plants and seeds, and so we came prepared to eat our fill of salads but this,” he held up a leaf filled with seeds and meat, “is just excellent. Reminds me of the lettuce wraps my parents used to make back home.”
Golx did his best to not recoil in horror and he glanced towards Tilgar who was eyeing him with concern. He shook his head gently to show he didn’t understand either. He decided to gently press forward since the Ambassador seemed in good spirits, “I am glad to hear your race has no issues with the…meat,” he said, sounding out the unfamiliar word.
“Of course not,” the Ambassador said as he laughed, “And you don’t have to play dumb, there’s no way this was an accident. You had to have known our race are Omnivores.”
“Omnivores?” Golx asked, a dread growing in the pit of his abdomen.
“Yes, omnivores; we can eat anything,” Xing laughed again before he turned and collected a third helping of the animal protein.
“Anything?”
Xing chewed for a moment before he shrugged, “Well, within reason, but yes, we can eat just about anything.”
Golx bowed gracefully before turning and rushing out of the room; a race that could eat anything? Golx had never encountered that kind of race, no one had, and as he rushed back into the kitchen he realized that his race, his entire people, could be considered ‘anything.’
--------
[r/grenadiere42](http://www.reddit.com/r/grenadiere42)
|
The Mordobans just eat cellulose, the Fercaptans can only absorb aerosolized glucose, and the Gree Nation need to be fed sunlight and water through a tube.
You know what *we* eat?
*Everything.*
That’s why we’re the 12th Galactic Dining Corps.
That’s why they call us feasting devils and why we call them small fry: nothing’s really scary when it’s food.
Mostly, we’re used for psychological warfare.
“Load me up with another canister!”
My ammo-bitch hops up on his one leg and sticks another barrel of fuel in the guts of my gun. Fuckin' meat mules. They were slow as Mordo blood: *sludge* slow.
“*Burn*, baby!” My ‘thrower vomits flame and I think back to elementary school lessons on spiders covering their prey and shooting them full of venom, melting their insides into meat-soup.
I get to do the same thing. Except I melt their insides *and* outsides. I get to cook my food, right there on the battlefield.
One Gree, two Gree, three Gree, four—they get swallowed by the fire and fall blackened and seared. The Gree are these delightful round creatures, pretty adapted to microgravity but *really* shitty anywhere with gees upwards of 0.3.
The Engineer Corps. worked a bit of magic: they attached rockets to their vessel and spun it up, giving them a kind of artificial gravity because of the, uh. Centrifugal force? Anyway. Point is: it was like shooting fish in a barrel.
“Dinner is *served*!”
My company rushed forward with fight-knives and kill-forks, ripping off chunks with a kind of violence and savagery you’d expect from a starved bear.
Which is what we are, I suppose.
This is the first alien ship we’ve encountered in *months*.
“Make sure to bag some for the people back home, men!”
I knock down more doors, see more Gree cowering around the corner. My fuel-barrel still has enough gas to torch their screams into charred silence.
The ship technically isn’t a combatant vessel, sure.
But after what we did to Earth…
Well. You know what I’m going to say.
A species has to eat, right?
***
###/r/NaimKabir
| 2016-02-02T07:02:02 | 2016-02-02T06:34:49 | 134 | 69 |
[WP] You, a dragon hatchling, were poached from your nest by a knight to be an exotic pet for the princess. You aren't worried though. Mother is coming.
|
I bobbed my head pleasantly as I was presented to the princess who squealed with glee.
"My own dragon!" She shook her hands in front of her face, then reached out tentatively. "Come on, let me hold it!"
"Of course, my lady, it is your dragon!"
I barked playfully. I liked my new friends. I couldn't wait for my mom to meet them. I could sense her coming. I was a bit afraid she would scold me, though. She felt as if she were enraged by something.
"Wow," the princess said, holding me daintily from under my arms, "What a beautiful shade of green. Look how the scales glitter in the torchlight--how beautiful!"
"Yes, my lady, and--"
The two froze as the castle shook ominously as Mother landed. The knight looked up dutifully while the princess held me close to her.
"Was that an earthquake?" the princess asked with fear.
"It was much too short for an earthquake... If I did not know any better--"
The room shook again, this time as a result of Mother's ferocious roar. I barked back to her. The knight clamped my mouth shut.
"Keep the offspring quiet!" the knight ordered the princess.
"You stole a child from its mother!?" the princess screamed in disbelief, squeezing my mouth tight. She was blocking off my ability to breathe. I tried to squirm out, but she just held tighter. She wasn't a very nice friend.
The roof of the castle collapsed as my mother smashed her face inside the throne room. She looked around the room, then locked eyes with me. I waved with my wings, greeting her happily despite my obstacle of not being able to breathe. It was nice to see Mother.
"My lady! Give me the dragonling!" the knight ordered.
"But you said it is mine!" the princess protested, squeezing me even tighter. I felt lightheaded. My mom's head drew closer to the three of us, her eyes ablaze with anger. Probably mad at me for going to a friend's house without asking first.
"Now is not the time!" the knight said, prying me away from the princess and holding a blade underneath my neck. I was grateful for the ability to breathe again. This friend was much better than the other one.
"Back beast!" the knight screamed at Mother, pulling the blade closer to my throat. "If you come any closer I will slice its head off!"
I bobbed my head in agreement. Mother stopped where she was and roared. Breathing a column of fire into the air out of her nose. I drew closer into the arms of my friend. Mother was definitely mad right now and I didn't know what I did wrong.
"Do not hurt it! That's *my* dragon!" the princess screamed.
"If we wish to assuage the dragon's mother, I believe we must return the hatchling," the knight lamented.
"But you said it was mine! And you told it that you were going to decapitate it!"
Mother roared again.
"I was only trying to keep the mother away from us in order to come up with a plan. I do not have the power to take down the mother. I believe the only course of action is to return--"
"I order you to give me the dragon back!" the princess commanded.
"Wha-- you cannot be serious!" the knight said, whipping us around to look at her. I smiled at the princess and she smiled back. If she was so happy, why was Mother so upset. Nothing ever made sense with Mother.
"Give it here!" the princess demanded.
"No!" the knight refused.
"No??" the princess gasped, appalled. "How *dare* you have the gall to--"
Mother's head came down and at the knight's arm clean off of him, freeing me from his grasp. I plopped to the floor gracelessly and looked up to Mother sheepishly. She signaled me to return to her. I looked back at the princess who beckoned to me as the knight was sprawled on the floor screaming and grasping at where his arm used to be.
I began to waddle to the princess. She was more fun than mother.
Before I could make it into her arms, Mother picked me up by my nape and grunted at the princess.
"No! Give it back! It's mine! Give it back!" the princess cried running at my mom and slapping weakly at her face. Mother rolled her eyes and flattened her with one whip of her wings taking off into the air.
"Nooooo!" the princess screamed with an arm stretched out at us.
I frowned as we returned back to the nest. Maybe when I was older I would be able to go back to my friend's house.
_____________________________
For more dragon tales, come check out r/Nazer_the_Lazer!
|
I am in a basket, tied to... a saddle? I do not appreciate this.
“Ha ha, you are so fucked,” I say.
Outside the basket, there is a muffled curse, and the pulling of reins, and the horse stops and a knight yanks back the cover on the basket and peers down at me with this look of utter confusion and I just laugh and laugh and laugh.
“What the fuck,” he says, “you can talk?”
“I’m a baby dragon and we are born with all the wisdom of our forebears. Of course I can talk. And you, Mr. I-wear-full-plate-when-stealing-baby-dragons-even-though-it-makes-my-horse-much-slower, are totally fucked.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because your horse is too slow for a proper getaway. And because my mother eats knights like you for breakfast.” I smile, showing him all of my tiny little adorable baby dragon teeth. “And because she’s right over there.”
The knight’s face went pale.
“Oh, fu—“
| 2020-04-24T23:14:58 | 2020-04-24T22:45:01 | 137 | 69 |
[WP] Finger guns now fire actual bullets. You were the first to discover this when you greeted your coworker Devin as you normally do.
|
"Take this weapon with you" my Sergeant said, his hand extending a rifle towards me.
"No, it's cool Sarge, I got this..." I shrugged with an air of confidence that my new found skill had provided me.
"Whatever private... it's YOUR funeral." Sarge and a few others continued to hand out weapons as we filed past them, nervous to get out onto the battle field.
"Where's your piece, bro?" asked Williams. He stood next to me, field checking his rifle before bumping helmets with me.
"I don't need it - yo, check this out...". I fired one of my finger guns at a paper cup full of coffee someone had placed on a table at the edge of our platoon's muster station. A hole silently appeared on either side of the cup, coffee dribbling out and across the table .
"Through and through..." I grinned.
"What ... the ... fuh..." Williams could hardly finish his statement as he stared over at the cup in awe.
Our discussion was cut short as a mortar landed near the table, sending everyone for cover. Our assailants were making their way towards us from quite a distance, as we all hunkered down for our premature battle.
"bang!" I whispered. I watched a guy I pointed at fall dead. Shots being fired all around me from other members of my platoon - we were ambushed, with attackers coming at us in all directions.
"bang! bang!" I whispered... and witnessed 2 more people fall in the distance. I scurried on my elbows behind a fallen log, next to Williams. He was yelling something into his radio about an ambush, but I was having a difficult time hearing him over all the gunfire.
I sat up slightly, put both arms over the log I was using for protection, and pointed my finger guns at anything that moved.
"bang! bang!" I continued. "Screw this" I thought. I brought my middle fingers alongside my already pointing index fingers, thumbs standing proud, cocked and ready. Now I was ready for some real action.
"ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-bang!" I whispered in machine gun fashion. The enemy soldiers were dropping like flies. Bullets whizzed past my helmet and I heard Williams let out a gurgling 'oof' as he took a bullet in the neck. I looked around, our numbers were dwindling swiftly and I could tell this may be my last stand.
I flipped around to face the other direction, my head resting on the log. The enemies behind us in the trees. I fanned my fingers out and said 'bwaa-a-aaa-aa-aa' as bullets sprayed from my hand, almost cutting the trees down as the assault from the trees ended. One of the gunmen in the trees fell to the ground, the stub of his arm shredded from my attack, his limb still clinging to his weapon in the tree.
I looked around me... lifeless soldiers all around me... guys I had trained with for months before being dumped out here in B.F. nowhere. I was the only one left. I turned back again, protected by the log, and saw 8 enemy combatants running towards me, with one guy moving slowly, about 20 yards behind them, following their lead.
"ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-bang!" I yelled. The 8 in the lead all fell suddenly, their life ended. I turned my finger guns on the last one. "Bang!" ... nothing happened... he kept getting closer. "What the hell?" "Bang! Bang!".. I felt the bullets leave my hand so I know it was working, yet he continued to get closer. 10 yards away now, and making no move to engage nor retreat.
I stood up and pointed right at him. "Bang!" ... 8 yards.
Nervous now, I looked around to see if anything else was going on. 6 yards.
"Why won't you die?!" I screamed at him. "Bang!" 4 yards. "Ba-ba-ba-ba..!" I continued to spray him with bullets. 2 yards.
"Bang..! Bang! I said 'Bang!'..." now he was right on top of me, bumping me to the ground, trampling me under his impossibly heavy weight. Each step of his boot crushed through my body, finding flat footing on the earth beneath my now dying body. He walked over me like I wasn't even there.
As I lay there, organs crushed beneath his weight, my last few ounces of breath leaving my body I could hear him whispering something...
"tank.... tank.... tank...."
|
"Whooop there he is !! Whooop there he is !!" Devin chanted as he snuck up behind me and tickled me.
*This shit was fuckin annoying*
I turn, point my finger at him and mimic shooting a gun.
***BAM***
Devins brains spattered the wall behind him as his body dropped to the ground like a bag of bricks. The loud noise and subsequent mess caused complete pandemonium within my office. Everybody rushed towards the exits or dropped down to the ground.
I never liked that frosty haired chode. Fuck em.
I turn to the 4th wall, "I knew all along what these fingers were capable of." I say as I turn to walk away.
And without turning back, I shout out, "Just ask your mom."
| 2018-03-20T10:46:51 | 2018-03-20T07:40:59 | 84 | 17 |
[WP]The Suit is powerfull. A mech for some, body armor for others, always unique to each person who wore it. Those who wear it, hear the words "not original user, booting basic mode" As a joke, your sergeant gives you The Suit and the first thing you hear is: "User detected: Welcome back, Commander"
|
***Four years, two months, ten days.***
That's how old I was. Not my human age, of course. That's irrelevant. I think I was approaching twenty years then. But on that day, for four years, two months, ten days I had been a soldier. It's who I was. It's what I was. It's all I was.
My sergeant has told us, his soldiers, about the time Before. How the Old Guard had the luxury of humanity. That they had homes and families to return to, lives outside of the army. That there were homes to return to.
I and all my brothers and sisters in arms were born from violence into violence. The Izan struck with such ferocity, seemingly from nowhere, and in mere days all that had been Before was forever changed. My birth parents died in the first wave of attacks, along with two billion other souls. Or at least that's what I had been told. Like so many of my new family of soldiers, I had little memory of them or anything else from Before. The first thing I remembered was my sergeant, wearing the Suit, saving me from a certain death. I couldn't even remember the details of that, just the certainty that it happened and an image of her suited massive form flying through the skies with me held in one arm.
I owed the Suit my life as much as I owed it to my sergeant. They said it was of Izan make, one of several captured by the Old Guard in the first days of the war. I had seen many variations of it, supposedly it takes whatever form best suits its wearer. What was odd is that the Izan did not use it. When not being worn, its similarities with Izan technology were obvious. But no one had ever seen an Izan in a suit. As far as we knew, that is. How would we have recognised a shape-shifting suit? For all we know, they were all wearing it. Of course, this would have been strange, since for a human it looks - and functions - differently depending on the wearer, and the Izan all looked exactly the same.
We did know that it didn't work the same for people as it did for Izans. "Booting basic mode!" had become something of a slogan and rallying cry for soldiers, who associated the diagnostic message - "Not original user, booting basic mode" - with the powers the Suit bestowed upon its wearers.
But none of that mattered to me. I was a mere soldier, not an officer, and certainly not in the Old Guard. I had little hope of ever wearing a Suit, I was merely a grunt who would die one day while supporting a brave Suit pilot as they fought to save humanity. All that mattered was that the Suit had saved me once - and many times again since then - and that it and the other Suits were all that had kept what was left of humanity alive.
And that day, I had thought that was coming to an end. The last few months had been unusually intense, and many soldiers were lost. I was all that my sergeant had left, and he had been in the Suit for two days straight without rest. It was going to kill him soon, we both knew it. But if he didn't wear it, we would surely all die. That, too, we both knew.
Which is exactly why I was so unprepared for what happened then.
"You should take it, kid."
Her gruff voice, clearly exhausted, clearly struggled to get the words out. There was a hint of amusement in the words, I thought. She was joking. Surely she was joking?
"Heh," I chuckled, the only way I could think to respond. "And then I'll fly us to safety in Fain Scattis. Sure thing, Sarge."
She retracted her helmet, a sighed through a faded smile. "I doubt the Fortress City still stands, soldier."
"Don't say that," I shook my head, "We'll make it. Just a few more hours to safety."
"No..." she sighed again, and closed her eyes in resigned contemplation. "Kid, I don't have that long. I don't even know if I'll survive taking the Suit off."
She shook her head as I looked at her in tired shock. "But I *know* that if I don't take it off, neither of us will survive. And neither will the Suit. So..."
Suddenly, the suit began to open up around her, packing itself back into the shape I had carried, carefully, so many times. And as it folded away from her, my sergeant slowly fell out of it and toward the ground.
"Shit!" I reached out and managed to catch her before she collapsed completely, "Sarge! Fuck, no, don't do this, come on!"
"Kid," she stammered, faintly, "I think it's time you repaid a favour."
I glanced toward the little black and red metal mask on the ground. At this point, I didn't have many options. The sergeant, the closest thing I had to a parent, was dying in my arms and the only way I could get either of us - let alone both of us - to safety was to put on that mask, Suit up, and boot up.
So that's what I did. And I was not prepared for what happened next. As the mask was placed on my face and the Suit unfolded first around my head and then to cover the rest of my body, it felt... *right*. Like waking up in the morning, fully rested, and seeing the world anew. I noticed that whereas for my sergeant, the Suit took on a bulky, machine-like shape that she would sit inside of, for me it was more like a suit of advanced armour. But I felt *powerful*. And then the Suit spoke.
"User detected. Welcome back, Commander."
*...what?*
"It has been four years, two months, ten days since last activation. Last mode activated: Operator. Do you wish to resume?"
"Uh," my mind was racing. *Resume?* I didn't know what was going on, but I sure as fuck had heard the time. *My* time. "What modes are available?"
I was scrambling to both figure out what was going on and to figure out what to do. I hadn't expected... well, any of this, but if there were more than one mode, then maybe...
"Nearby injuries detected. Medic mode is recommended."
My eyes went wide, "Yes! That! Give me Medic mode!"
The HUD in front of my eyes reconfigured itself, and highlighted my sergeant's body. Instructions appeared, along with a status readout, in the corner of my vision, somehow perfectly readable despite its peripheral positioning. '*Ta Fain Commander: Medic mode. Place patient on the ground. Place hand on patient*.' I followed instructions, and from my hand a kind of grey goo flowed out to cover my sergeant's body completely.
"Patient sealed in stasis. Recommend delivery to nearest medical facility."
"Uhm, where would that be?"
"Scanning... pingback received. Nearest intact facility is Sophie Scholl Underground Hospital. Flight time twenty minutes."
By now, I was long past my disorientation, despite still having no idea what was really happening. I just *knew* how to operate the Suit. And I *knew* what to do.
"Plot a course. And ping the Old Guard. The game has changed."
|
Nobody knows where it came from or how it got here. All we know is that when you wear it two things happen; You hear it tell you "Unauthorized user, booting safe mode" and it gets a crazy configuration. Sgt. Aiden Kahn was the first soldier to wear it. It was a beautiful black suit whose texture resembled a dragon with white stripes dow the arms. It was able to absorb any blow from any weapon. When Major Kelly Rameriz donned the suit, It took the texture of snake scales with the speed and stealth to match. She was quiet and fast, and deadly. She "took out" our entire squad in the War Games. Took her only 15 minutes.
I joined the UNAF 6 months ago. It was really the only job a poor farmer's son could get. I finished my BCT and AIT. I was a scout. Not the most Glamorous job, but the $20,000 sign-on bonus was a big help to my pops and the family. I got stationed at Fort Bliss up in Texas. I had never been to the States before, it was a really nice place.
The United Nations and the Republic of China had always had issues. After the USA annexed the entirety of South America and Europe, wars broke out all over the place. The suit was found after a raid in what used to be Egypt. The Agency believed that the RoC had built this super weapon and was getting ready for the war to end all wars. An alligation which they denied.
It was the middle of September and I was the driver for Major Rameriz. She was a nice but cold woman. She never repeated herself but treated each and every person with respect. Make no mistake though, she was tough and could kill most people without much effort. She was getting ready for the latest round of performance test when out Humvee was hit by a rocket from the newest jet in the RoC fleet. I came to with a glaring headache. She was lying about ten foot from me. She's yelling at me but I can't make out what she's saying over the ringing. "Get the suit Private, Get the fucking suit! Defend it with your life." Without hesitating, I open the chest and pick up this thin piece of webbing. It looked like the vest we wear over our kevlar armor.
I put on the suit and I hear it say "Authorized user detected, Good evening commander, Booting configuration Delta". Suddenly the suit engulfs me in what I can only describe as a silver shell with a blue tint and a nice suede interior. It was like being surrounded by a cloud.
"What the shit?" I say to myself. "I'm no commander." Without much time to think about it, the suit jets upward until I'm staring at the newly minted RoC G90 aircraft coming at me. As if acting on instinct, I lean forward and punch toward the plane. As if magic, a shockwave leaves me and shatters the aircraft. I land while still in shock along with the rest of my batallion who arrived just in time to watch me one-hit a fucking plane.
As we're all trying to figure out what the hell just happened the suit's com chimed. "Alec, is that you? Please respond". I reply "No, this is Private Jorge Gonzales of the UNAF. Who are you?" I didn't get a response.
We thought this suit was a blessing. It was the most powerful weapon the UN had ever possessed and it made all other nations grovel at our feet. What we didn't quite know is that it was actually a curse, we just haven't felt the wrath of it's enemies. They were coming.
| 2019-08-19T12:31:45 | 2019-08-19T12:23:47 | 36 | 15 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
*Si vis pacem, para bellum.*
“Mr. President, what is the purpose of this Sacred Council If not to arbitrate between the disputing parties? Should the council be derelict in her duty, her mandate shall stand voided. The lofty words in its constitution shall ring hollow in this great hall where all the sentient beings of the universe were welcome once. Where no species was deemed higher or lower in the eye of the Galactic law. Should that eventuality arise, we shall have no other recourse but to find justice by alternate means.”
“Alternate means you say? What are these alternate means through which you will find what you deem to be a just conclusion of this debate?” The ambassador to the Crab Nebula system chimed in. Subtlety of his derisive tone was obviated by laughter of his supporters in council. His smug sense of superiority well deserved.
“Make no mistake honorable councilmembers, I do not see the humor in this situation. In fact, I see only chaos and destruction if the council will not intervene.”
“Your words fail to impress us. You wordsmiths, thinking apes as you call yourselves. What do you know of war? Of death and destruction? You were cocooned in your little corner in Milky Way while the war raged across the whole quadrant at the conclusion of which we decided to form this council. Your people work as scribes, philosophers, teachers, and entertainers. Your jokes especially are funnier than the rest. Or so I thought until now.” Chuckles across the council followed.
“Then, Mr. President, I must inform you that humanity will no longer be responsible for the consequences. Justice in our way of thinking is universal. It cannot vary with the whims of the select few or even a tyrannical majority. And for this principle we shall go to any end necessary.”
“Come now, Ambassador. Have a drink. Soothe your heated tongue and wounded heart.”
The president felt that the proceedings were spiralling out of control. He had never known any human ambassador to be so assertive in his life - and he had seen some four hundred human ambassadors come and go in his diplomatic career. Puny, fragile, ephemeral beings! He had often wondered how they had come to dominate the Earth and the Helios system.
“I am not a being, Mr. President. I am the voice of the will of humanity. So I choose my words carefully to reflect it. And let my words be taken as they sound - no more and no less.”
The Human Ambassador paused.
The Committee on the Galactic Relations of Earth Parliament had instructed him before his voyage back to the planet Meelore where the council sat. He was called back because it was deemed too risky to discuss it over the GalacticNet. They had authorized him to do all that he could to avoid the terrible outcome, but if it were to prove unavoidable then it was to be his solemn duty to proclaim formally that humanity shall seek recompense in a way she had long renounced.
War.
“Oathbreakers, beware! Our politeness is not instinctive. Our humility is not innate. Our bonhomie is nurtured from the first day a human child is born. Let not the this body rue the day when she convinced us that we must act on our baser nature to achieve a greater end.”
“Do your worst.”
Someone from the backbenches heckled. Breaking the spell. It was received with approving grunts all over. What could these soft, obsequious beings do? The rest of the galaxy will not be cowed by this upstart race and their mere words!
“We shall take your suggestion very seriously, representative Ercheon of Seven Sisters system. But permit me to also suggest something.” The human ambassador was almost shouting now, over the uproar that had broken out.
“We do not seek vengeance.” He thumped the desk. “We seek justice. We give this council five earth days to deliver it to us. If you do so, that justice will be benevolent. But if we must obtain it, it shall be grim. It shall be cruel. It shall be horrific.”
Everyone was listening once again, he observed.
“Presume us withdrawn from this council should you choose to let the ultimatum run out, Mr. President. Thenceforth, there shall be no more parlay. No more negotiations. And no mercy. Only war, and utter victory or vanquishment.”
|
[Poem]
Click, clack, click.
All the machines roar,
Click, clack, click.
For this total war.
Click, clack, click.
Industry cannibalized,
Click, clack, click.
To create their demise.
Click, clack, click.
All of humanity knows,
Click, clack, click.
The others don’t though.
Click, clack, click.
Bombs manufactured,
Click, clack, click.
Enemy lives fractured.
Click, clack, click.
Society rebuilt to destroy,
Click, clack, click.
Not to be enjoyed.
Click, clack, click.
Soldiers armed en masse,
Click, clack, click.
Ready to kick the others in the ass.
Click, clack, click.
Everyone does their part.
Click, clack, click.
To blow these aliens apart.
| 2019-11-24T15:48:36 | 2019-11-24T10:43:55 | 99 | 66 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy.
|
Xandar was fuming. 20 smismars he'd been waiting in the bowels of that horrible assembling of junk and metal the humans proudly called their *flagship of intergalactic friendship*. It was bad enough when those hairless pink monkeys made it to outer space but now they had developped a functioning FTL drive and that made them *worthy* of introduction into the Galactic Alliance.
In all his bismars as official technological investigators of the Galactic Alliance's scientific division, Xandar had never seen such a pathetic excuse for a ship. Neither he or any of his colleagues wanted to partake in this scientific inspection. They actually had to draw straws and to his utter disappointment, Xandar lost. Xarcy tried to cheer him up, noting that the human FTL drive was probably a dud anyway. Their first long distance drive was barely a stupid bedsheet catching solar wind, how could they have build a fully functioning FTL drive is such little time since.
21 smismars, where the hell was that pink ape that was supposed to show him the drive ? Xandar only wanted to get done with this and leave. The human vessel was small, cramped and much too warm for his taste. It also didn't help that everything was made to accomodate 6ft tall apes, at 9ft tall, a respectable height for a noble Glaxian like him, he was constantly banging his upper appendage on the ceiling and door frames.
Finally a metal door opened and 2 hairless apes ran toward him. The first one, pink and the second one dark brown. Fascinating thought Xandar, I've never seen such a dark colored ape. At least some decent scientific information. Maybe the science council would let him abduct such a specimen later on for testing. Humans usually didn't mind a few abduction here and there as long as you didn't touch the cows sleeping in the fields.
The 2 apes escorted Xandar to the engine room. The first thing that caught Xandar's attention was the intense heat coming from the doorway, much worst than the rest of the already hot vessel.
>Right this way Dr Xandar, you're gonna love this!
Words could barely describe the sights that laid in front of Xandar when he crossed into the room
*What the hell kind of piece of shit is that?*
>What, the FTL drive ?
>>Quite the beauty isn't she ?
The drive in question looked like a random pile of junk with tubes coming out of the sides, hot steam rising from them. The whole thing was red hot and there was a very annoying sound of pressured gas being shot into the machine at close interval. On top of the device sat 2 giant glowing green tubes.
*Are those Arthosian power cores ?*
>Yes, you have a good eye Dr Xandar.
*Where in the 5 stars did you get these ? Only a handful were ever created and the Arthosian guard them very closely*
>>We found them!
>Of yeah, came upon a space wreck near Alpha Centory IV and we managed to recover quite a lot of technology from it.
*Wait wait... you stole them from a broken ship ?*
>Not stole, never. We found them.
>>Space salvage!
*Does the Arthosian empire know you're using stolen tech ?*
>I dunno, they never complained about it before you brought it up.
Xandar was flaggerbasted, these hairless apes weren't just stupid, they were a menace.
*Fine, walk me trough it*
>Oh you're gonna love this doc. By stripping the neutrino element of the 2 power cores and jerryrigging them together, we managed to create a power unit strong enough to blast trough the fabric of spacetime, and into the slipstream.
*Wait a minute, you stripped the power core of its protective shielding ?*
>Why yes.
>>It was really annoying really, hiding all the good stuff.
*ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS! Those a radiation shielding, this stuff is extremely dangerous*
>I know that, we all know that
>>It needed to be done. Beside, we added some plasma shielding to it.
>Yes, it should do the job... enough.
*Jesus fucking christ.... continue*
>Well, as I was saying, the drive allows us to punch our way into the slipstream and from there we can modify the flow of radiation emited by the power cores, enabling us to navigate different planes of the stream.
>>It's like a chose you own adventure travel book. Add a gamma variant to the radiation cocktail and you can move faster, replace it by a theta variant and you can navigate, for lack of a better word, "UP" into the 4th dimension.
*How do you exit the slipstreem ?*
>Well, we found that injecting a low level ion isopote directly into the power core will create an instability in the stream that causes the ship to be ejected, albeith rather violently.
>>Yes, the first test vessel exploded on exit.
*My god, this is catastrophic*
>We thought so to, so insted we just shut off the drive and the ship gets ejected much more softly.
*What... no! I mean... this whole system is horrible...*
>It's not so bad once you work out the kinks
*But how.... this must be ridiculously unstable !?*
>Oh boy... that's an understatement
>>You have to understand, all this only works if we keep the core overheated to exactly 3,568 degrees.
>Oh yes, any variation of over 2.75 degrees and the whole thing would go kablewy
*This is nuts, how do you maintain the temperature ? I see no adaptive secluar temporal module anywhere*
>Don't have one
>>Yeah, this fancy stuff is much too complicated and too hard to get your hands on.
>For now we use a system of pressure injected water and nitrogen
*You forcecool it under pressure ?*
>Exactly! I knew you'd get it doc.
>>We alternate between injecting pressurized water and nitrogen to cool off the core with a 1.5 seconds interval between each injection
*What?.... that's....how!?*
>You know.... too hot, blast it with nitrogen. Too cold, switch to water. Perfect temperature, do nothing. We evaluate the temperature every 2 seconds and Frank over there pulls the switch to inject the correct cooling substance.
*So none of this is automated ?*
>Nah, we're hoping to find a suitable automated cooling mechanism soon though.
*Like what? A water tin can on a string with a hole on the bottom ?*
>>Well no that's.... hey that's actually a good idea
>Yeah, we should look into that.
*Allright.... not taking into consideration the immense safety concern, not to mention decent common sens, this thing appears extremely dangerous and also in violation of at least a dozen galactic regulations on plasma use and timestream protocoles, and that's just for starters*
>Really?
>>Well that's a bummer for sure
*I must ask, with all this violent punching around the slipstream, how does your system deal with excess radiations and temporal aftershock effects ?*
>Come again ?
*The extreme side effects of your shitty system!!*
>Oh that. I dunno, whatever happens in the slipstream stays in the slipstream I guess.
>>Yeah, I mean it's not like we plan on living in the stream you know. It's just a highway. You roll down the window and throw your trash out.
*Over 15 sentient species live in the stream, 4 of wich are official members of the Galactic Alliance.*
>Really, people live in there ?
*YES, THEY DO!*
>Well that's fucking stupid.
>>yeah, who in their right mind lives in a galactic highway ? That's dangerous, somebody could get hurt!
>And they call US crazy ?
|
The inhabitants of Oflesq station heard what they had come to learn was the characteristic sound of imminent human arrival. No one understood it. A vast mooing, defying the supposed absence of sound travel in empty space. A mooing that sent chills down both of their spines; as if it were the old gods that had come, calling at last for the reckoning of all things. Two humans galloped into the hangar.
They were quickly escorted into the conference room, and after being joined by a single alien, the thick door was shut and locked. "This is the man?" Efroi asked. "Correct," said the tall, large human. Efroi knew the type; this one could be trusted, given the right compensation. But the other one...
"Hi, I'm Joey." Joey absentmindedly spit onto the floor.
Efroi made an assessment. This human was not like the others that it had seen; there was a certain change of mannerism, at once both carefree and uncomfortable with a complete lack of social grace and general awareness. This seemed to be his first time wearing a suit. It's first impression was of an uneducated common worker, yet it could detect that he probably did have an intimate knowledge of cows.
"Hi Joey, we would like to talk about your cows today. Could you... explain? I would like to know how they work and how you created them."
"Welp, you see, we humans 'ad made large advancements towards time travel. But it's impossible, see. You can change tha rate of time flow, but ya can't twist it back on itself. So I got to thinkin. I got these cows, see. Me and my family been breedin cows a long time. Tryina get the better cows, the best cows. I figure, why not speed up the process a little bit. So I throw some cows in there, in the device I mean, and an AI for the selective breedin. Set the dial the farthes it would go. I open the thing up two seconds later and boom. FTL cows."
*That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard.* Efroi looked over to the other human, who remained expressionless. "So, um, how did you aquire one of these time manipulating devices, Joey?"
"I made it m'self. Not commercially available, see. Read up on the principles of it and got to work. Took a bit of work, too. To enclose the whole area, y'know. Set up a self sustainin environment, self sustainin robotics. Don't get me started on the energy source. People saw what I was doin, called me crazy. Now they're ridin *my* cows. They're the best cows in the universe, I reckon."
Efroi wouldn't believe it, none of it, if these humans hadn't just rode into the hangar on a couple of space cows. This man must be one of the best his species has to offer. "So, how do these cows work? What principle allows them to travel faster than light? How do they survive the vacuum of space, and the humans who ride on top of them? How do they fill the voids of space with their mooing?"
"Honestly, I ain't got a clue. No one does. The cows are in-comprehensible. Evolution works in mysterious ways. And the cows were in there quite a long time, see."
"How long... do you estimate?" Efroi began to feel even more unwell.
"Well, my internal clock ran out of memory space. It was only 64 petabytes but it was only designed to record the exponent of 10 for the number-"
"This is insane." Efroi stood up. "The cows are perfect beings, at least in this one respect. Do you realize the potential of this method? What it could do to the universe? You humans have kept this secret, yes? This information cannot be revealed again. This cannot be done again."
"But it ha-"
"Thank you for having us, Efroi. But this is all the information we are willing to disclose at this time," The tall human interrupted. "The cows are sacred beings who chose the simple dairy farmer Joey as their prophet, to usher in a new age for humanity. That is the official story, and you would do well to maintain that, Efroi," The tall man said. *That's the second stupidest thing I've ever heard.*
For the rest of its days, Efroi was forever haunted by the mooing that echoed amongst the stars, and the prophecy that it foretold.
| 2017-03-31T09:27:39 | 2017-03-31T07:04:11 | 99 | 15 |
[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.
|
At least only one man had to die today.
Captain Thomas Oates sat alone in the ruined ship. The front half was inaccessible. Ruined. If he opened the airlock preserving this half of the ship, he would get sucked into the oblivion of space.
If he didn't, he would die here. Slowly. The dehydration would get him first.
His hands still remembered the shape of Mina's fingers. How she gripped his forearms and begged him to go with her into the escape pod.
*Someone has to stay,* he had said, as the dashboard came alive with all those hundreds of lights. All those enemy ships, rising like the hand of death. *Someone has to keep them from following you.*
He could still taste that last kiss, salty-sweet with Mina's tears. If he closed his eyes, her hand was still on the back of his neck, her fingers still reaching under his helmet to twine his hair.
And he had pushed her away. Out the door of the cockpit. He had slid his visor down and turned to face his own doom. Thirty enemy ships, glittering on the dark horizon. Drawing in closer. The legion had come for them, and they did not leave survivors.
But a good captain always goes down with his ship.
How many hours ago had that been? Time had unspooled itself. Minutes became hours, and hours became years.
Now he was alone except for the android sitting beside him. Oates sat on the edge of the deck, his legs swinging over oblivion where the escape pods had once sat. The front half of the ship was riddled with heat-singed holes, letting death rush in.
The android at his side was one of the ship AI's many roving ports, a round-shelled little android with huge LED eyes. It had a sweet and cartoonish look. The shell had been discontinued years earlier for a sleeker model, but there was a sweetness to this particular droid, who Oates nicknamed Terry.
"You ever hear of the Battle of Thermopylae?" he asked.
The AI just blinked at him for a long few seconds. Then Terry intoned, "Internet connection damaged. Shall I log for further search when systems are operational?"
"No, it's alright. I can tell you." Now there was no escape for anyone. Not him, not Terry. "It was a famous battle. 300 Spartans against some 30,000 Persian soldiers. It was a death mission, but if they didn't do it, so many others would die. Their wives, their children." He voice caught, but he forced himself to keep talking. "So they stood. So they fought. And all the Spartans died there with their captain, Leonidas. But they slaughtered tens of thousands of the Persians. More than anyone ever thought they would."
Oates closed his eyes. That rattle of artillery puncturing the ship's hull would never leave him. He would carry it to the end of his days -- which seemed to be down to only a handful, now.
The droid processed that for a moment. Its fan whirred, loudly, before it said, "They failed their primary objective."
"What does that mean, Terry?"
"The primary objective of all humans is to live at all costs. That is the evolutionary goal." The android rattled it off emotionlessly.
"Always speaking in Wikipedia entries, aren't you?" Oates grinned humorlessly, but the android didn't grin back. "I guess my primary objective doesn't line up too well with that."
The captain's breath clouded his visor as he stared through the glass windows, at the blackness of space stretching all around him. Darkness upon darkness, punctuated here there with pinholes of light. All those distant stars didn't mind dying and burning up in space, unnamed, forgotten.
Why should he mind?
"I do not understand the command," Terry said.
"There wasn't one." Oates stared down at the stained knees of his space suit. They were slick with oil and black gunpowder. How he had thrown himself across the floor of the command room just as he sent out the final assault. As the glass cracked and the hiss of death seeped into the cockpit.
He had only delayed the inevitable, hadn't he?
Mina's face had been so furious. Red with tears. *I'm not letting you die here,* she had cried.
*I'm not letting you either,* he had told her. He had one hand on her back, the other on her still-small belly, the secret they wouldn't let any of the rest of the crew know. Not yet. They were meant to dock at the space station long before she started showing, before the word *pregnancy* brought with it threats of lost rations, of a need for vitamins the ship simply did not have.
But Mina had lived. And that was enough. That was all he needed.
Terry said, "Engine bay three has ignited."
"Brilliant," Oates muttered.
"The fire will soon spread to the rest of the ship. Anti-combustion measures damaged or inaccessible. Advised you send a technician down--"
"On it, Terry." Oates leaned back to lay down and stare up at the glass roof overhead. It was a sick joke, surviving the impossible, only to die anyway.
Maybe the smoke would get him. That had to be gentler than letting space freeze him from the inside out. He had once seen a crewmate get sucked through the airlock door. He had watched her face twist in horror. Had watched her very eyes burst from the sudden change in pressure.
And in those few seconds, she felt everything.
Perhaps there was no gentle death. Not for any of them. Not for the enemy federation ships that sank soundlessly through the black arms of space. Floating down and down forever, somewhere down below.
He would float forever too. Lost here.
"Do you think Leonidas had a son?" Oates whispered. Did he grow up with his mother pointing at the stars and saying, *Your father is up there somewhere. Up with the stars.*
"I do not understand the command."
"At ease, Terry. At ease." Oates shut his eyes in a long, slow blink. Fog formed on the inside of his helmet. "There's nothing for either of us to worry about anymore."
But the AI did not relax. It straightened, twisted its attention toward the docking bay. "All personnel must enter the safe airlock," Terry said, its robotic voice rising in warning.
"I'm dying anyway, aren't I?"
"Ship attempting to dock," the AI said. "Repeat, all personnel must--"
Oates leapt to his feet. The metal resounded under his boots.
"Terry," he said, "does the docking bay feed still function?"
"Only cameras two and three."
"Show me camera three. Now."
The AI's LED eyes shifted into a screen. A live feed of the camera on the outside of the ship.
Oates's belly raised in hope and relief. A smile tugged at his mouth. The feed was black and white, but he would recognize Mina anywhere. Even through the grainy film footage. There was her tiny escape pod, sputtering and putting along.
"Terry. Establish a comm link."
The AI complied.
Mina's voice tumbled out of the AI's speaker like a relief. Like cool wind on a hot day. "Permission to dock requested, Captain."
"Did you refuse your captain's direct order, Lieutenant?"
He had told her to fly far. Fly fast. Never look back.
Mina scoffed. "Of course I did."
"Why in the hell would you do *that?*"
"The captain was being a stubborn jackass. And I can't collect child support if he dies out here, can I?" He could hear the smile in her voice.
Oates leaned his head forward. Hot tears chased down the sides of his face. "Permission granted, Lieutenant." He rubbed his thumb lovingly over the tiny screen of the AI's video feed. He could almost imagine it was her own skin, smooth and hot under his fingers. "And thank you."
***
/r/nickofstatic for more stories with me and my best friend NickofNight :)
|
"Computer, how much oxygen do we have left?" Commander Patch asked, looking to her remaining crew. There were far too many people for the size of the escape ship. And they took significant shots while getting out of range of the battle.
*"We took severe damage-damage to the ship-ship. I am not running normally. Oxygen lev..."* the computer responded with a few compression issues with audio.
"That doesn't sound great," Nick, the engineer said, scratching the back of his head, "I can go check on it manually."
Nick left the room, leaving his forty compatriots behind.
*"--Twenty minutes of Oxygen. Thrusters are out of--... Communication down. Running on reserve power."* the computer finished.
The room began to shake with panic.
"Twenty minutes!" Henry, the weapon's expert, gasped, grabbing lightly at his throat as if already feeling the air thinning.
"This ship was never designed to hold more than five!" Jennifer, the intern, said, rocking back and forth on the floor, her eyes bloodshot.
"Everyone stop!" Commander Patch commanded. The crew froze. "The more you panic, the more air we'll lose. We need to think of a way back to safety. We saw that the captain won the battle, but we can't communicate with him, and we need to know if he can see us. Computer, how far out is the captain from us?"
*"Captain Rick's flight path is 2003 meters Earthward. He will cross this path in ten-ten-ten..."*
The room held it's breath. The Computer's intercom buzzed silently.
"Come one man!" Henry yelled at it.
*"Minutes."*
"Which way are we drifting, computer?" the commander asked, not giving the room enough time to begin panicking again.
*"Parallel to his path-path,"* it replied.
"That's no good!" Pricilla, the communications director said, "We have to be at least 2000 meters in range to show up on radar! He'll pass right by us!"
"So, we're going to die!" Jennifer said deadpan, her bloodshot eyes running with tears.
"Not yet we're not Jenn," the commander said. She pulled out her Calc-pad and ran a few simulations and numbers. She nodded her head gravely.
"I have an idea," Commander Patch said, marching toward the airlock.
"What are you--"
"I'm leaving Nick in charge. I'm jumping out the airlock. The push from my jump should get you just in range by the time the captain's flight intersects," Patch said with an air of confidence. The room stared at her, stunned.
"You're jumping out of the ship!?" Jennifer screamed.
"Commander, with all due respect, you have to be pixel perfect to time a jump like that. Don't risk your life for that!" Henry protested.
"It's all I can think of. And I have to go now if I want to make the jump in time," she said, then gave a small smile. "The worst thing I can do is give you more air to breathe, right? Gives you more times for ideas."
"No commander, the worst thing you can do is leave us without a commander!" Henry screamed. No one said anything, but they call felt the same. Commander Patch looked between her crew, proud to have served with them.
"I'm not leaving you without a commander. You have Nick!"
With that, she slammed the airlock door and put on a suit with minimal caution. She needed it done fast enough to get the jump done. The people in the ship gathered around the window to the room she was in. She turned back and saluted. Then she slapped the door open button and the void of space called to her. She braced herself and bent her knees low, then jumped with all the force she could muster. The ship began drifting the other way, ever-so-slightly. Enough that no one could feel it physically, but they felt it at a metaphysical level. The airlock closed behind her, leaving the commander to drift freely.
"Good news everyone!" Nick called, coming back from the engine room, "Looks like we have four days and ten minutes worth of oxygen left! Communications seem to be down, but the thrusters are just out of gas. It can be refueled by a few pieces of... why is everyone crying?"
________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
| 2020-04-23T20:40:07 | 2020-04-23T20:37:01 | 2,836 | 172 |
[WP] There's a door in the middle of the forest. No one who has ever gone in has come back. Your job is to guard anyone from going in. One night, you hear a knock on the door.
|
I raised the flask to my lips, taking a long drag of the noxious liquor. It traveled down my throat, lighting a fiery path in its wake. I coughed, blinking back the tears. At least it would ward off the cold a little longer.
Leaning against the bark of a sizeable tree, I closed my eyes in meditation. The night played it symphony around me, lulling and sweet. If anything, it was the main perk as being the Doorman. Getting away from the others was what I needed. They were too loud, always celebrating the smallest things. Gods, if they didn’t have anything to party about, they would find a reason why.
There was a sound, a light tap reverbing amongst the wooden giants surrounding me. I opened one eye, my hand gravitating to my gun. Didn’t sound like any woodland creatures. Probably one of the kids from the village, trying to spook me. Or maybe they wanted to divert my attention so they could see the Demon’s Door. After all, it had become a rite of passage for the youth to get as close as possible before being sucked up by it. Every once in a while, one tested their luck too much and were lost forever.
But not on my watch.
Since taking the role months ago, there hadn’t been another disappearance. Impressive, considering the notoriety of the Demon’s Door. If someone wasn’t trying to get their own peek inside, they were trying to hack it to splinters. Yet, even the sharpest axe did little more than scratch the wooden surface. As the legends claim, the door is as impervious as the gods.
Another knock rang. It was louder – more pressing. There was no mistaking where it came from this time. I turned my head, tracing the origin on the sound.
It came from the door.
My blood ran cold, the alcohol doing nothing to warm it. That wasn’t possible. As far as the stories go, nothing existed on the other side. And I was damn sure no one stayed over there. Yet, the knocking came from it, sure enough.
I rose to my feet, slow and apprehensive. I didn’t take my eyes off the door, hand still hovering over my holster. What could lie on the other side? If I had to guess, something I didn’t want to deal with.
Each step towards the door was agonizing. Dead leaves crunched under my feet, the continual sound putting me on edge. I bit my lip, saying my first prayers since taking the job. I always figured they didn’t help when I was so close to evil. Now, I had no idea.
Once I reached the door, I paused. It was weathered yet looked brand new, it’s surface pale but smooth. A brass knob shined in the waning moonlight, glaring with a mysterious aura. It turned, a silent yet unmistakable movement.
I pulled back, taking in a sharp breath. I expected the door to fly open, for foul spirits to pour forth and rip me to shreds. But it didn’t.
All I heard was the knocking.
Mustering enough courage, I placed my hand on the knob. It was warm, disobeying the winter’s touch. I embraced it, closing my eyes. I twisted my wrist, waiting for the worst.
On the other side of the door was darkness – inky blackness. I saw nothing but swirling shadows, tendrils reaching outwards. Yet, they couldn’t reach me. Not as long as I was on the other side of the door.
A figure faded into existence, a white specter. I squinted, struggling to make out the form. At first, I couldn’t make out if it was man or woman, adult or child. However, after a few more seconds, it became clear.
It was a girl – scarcely older than eight. She looked up to me, a smile on her face. Her arms shot upwards, a begging expression plastered on her face.
“Please, dad?” she asked, her voice soft and sonorous.
The rims of my eyes grew hot, tears bubbling forth. This couldn’t have been happening. Not now, not like this. I knew what I had to do.
Instinctually, I grabbed the door and slammed it tight. Even then, there was muffled crying on the other side. It had been months since the last time I heard it yet the pain remained.
I sank to my knees, clutching myself in pain. I mumbled the same words over and over, unable to hold back the tears. The knocking started again, piercing my sobs as the night’s symphony reached its end.
“I’m so sorry, Nadia.”
|
So, it's almost been a year now, and once it's up, I can finally move to the next phase! This night is uneventful, just like the past 357. I wonder how those matc
There was a knock at the door, but there's nobody near. I'm supposed to be the only person around for a mile, I thought... Am I imaginin
There it was again! Wait, do I answer? All they said was not to go in...
It's getting louder, it's definitely not my imagination. Well, as long as I don't go in, right?
"So that's what's been going on here? That would explain everything, you know? I guess next time we'll tell the guard to make sure not to open it, right?" The researcher looks to her colleague hopefully. "We'll see. Hand me his journal?"
| 2015-05-17T21:11:10 | 2015-05-17T21:03:33 | 737 | 10 |
[WP] You're just a chicken farmer. An ordinary chicken farmer. You're not a warlord. Definitely not, and you also don't command your chickens to do your bidding. Preposterous. Insane. Rumors.
|
Molly was in the middle of whisking when the knock came - three of them, actually, one after the other, loud, imperative. *It figures,* she thought to herself, and quickly wiped her hands on the hand-embroidered dish cloth and headed out of the kitchen. She paused in the living room to shoo a few hens out of her way - they knew better than to block her way like that. Honestly.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen, what can I do ya for?" she said once she had reached and opened the door. Two men wearing suits and sunglasses were standing on her dusty wooden porch.
The one on the left spoke first, "Ma'am. Good afternoon. Agent Jones and Agent Macklin, FBI. Mind if we come in?"
"Well - mi casa is suitcases, as my mama liked to say."
The two men remained impassive at this, causing Molly to sigh. "Because the sayin'...never mind all that, just come in, please."
Molly stepped aside to allow the men to enter her home. She gestured them towards the floral-print sofa by the staircase. "Take a seat. Can I get y'all a drink? I just whipped up some lemonade this mornin' that is, if you don't mind me tootin' my own horn a bit, is delicious."
"No thank you, Ma'am," Jones replied. He seemed to be the spokesman.
"That's twice now y'all have called me that. Please, call me Molly. Or, if that's a might too casual, you can call me Mama K."
Again, the only response was stony silence. Molly frowned.
Jones spoke up again, "Ma'am, we're following up a lead regarding an incident that happened not far from here early yesterday morning. A man and his family were killed in their sleep."
"My *heavens*!" Molly said, clasping her hands to collarbone. One of the hens nearby clucked in alarm at her sudden outburst. "Well, these are the times we live in, though, ain't they? You take the Bible out of school and what do you get?"
"The man was an informant for an important court case."
"Well oh-em-goodness, that's even worse! That poor man. Although I reckon it is dangerous work, bein' an informant for the FBI."
Agent Jones and Agent Macklin both cocked their heads ten degrees to the right at the same time - it would have been impressive if it hand't been so absurd. "Ma'am," Agent Jones began, "We did not mention he was working for us."
"Of course not, but you are here askin' 'bout him, and you're *from* the FBI...anyway, we can sit here shootin' at squirrels all you want, gentlemen, but I imagine you're not here just to bring me the latest news."
Macklin broke his silence. "Ma'am, the individuals were pecked to death."
Molly blinked at them. "I'm sorry - y'all mind repeatin' that?"
"Forensics indicated that they were pecked to death. All of them."
Molly allowed a small smile to creep across her lips. "Y'all came a long way just to yank an old lady's chain like this."
Agent Jones took over. "Ma'am, we do not joke about these kinds of matters."
Molly took a moment to let this sink in. "Pecked to death? *Pecked* to death, you say? But, my word, how would such a thing even happen? Did they have a pet bird?"
"No, Ma'am. And the report indicated it was at least five different birds that committed the murder."
"...and I just...I'm havin' trouble picturin' it, I s'ppose. I mean, I've been pecked a gracious plenty, especially by ol' Calpurnia, there, in the corner. But I can't imagine what it would take to *kill* someone through peckin'."
"It is a very unique case, ma'am. Anyway - we were wondering if you might have seen or heard anything unusual during the night in question."
"I mean, I s'ppose, you peck enough...eventually you start bleedin' so much...but still. Why would the chickens do that?"
The agents cocked their heads in unison again, this time to the left. "We didn't mention chickens, ma'am."
"Plus the coordination. You'd need some kinda ringleader, I guess, givin' orders and whatnot."
The chickens in the room had frozen, watching the scene unfold. Both of the men tensed and slowly rose from the couch. "Ma'am, I think we're going to have to ask you --"
"*Birdbath*," she barked.
Molly's living room erupted into complete mayhem. The chickens who had been in the room flapped at the lawmen and began pecking and clawing. Three times that number dropped down on them from above.
Molly raised her voice to be heard over the screams of the agents and the frenzied clucking of her feathered minions. "I am sorry about this, gentlemen. But y'all came into my home, refused my hospitality, and insisted on callin' me *ma'am* when I expressly asked y'all not to."
She watched silently for a time, then waited for the feathers to settle. "'sides, I can't have y'all messin' 'bout with my plans. And if you think what happened to that backstabbin' boll-weevil Strathairn was bad...wait 'til y'all see what I do next."
And with that, Molly turned, went back into the kitchen, and resumed her whisking.
***
/r/ShadowsofClouds
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It was the end of the day. Caleb removed his dinner from the microwave and made his way to his small kitchen table only meant for two people, but that was alright because he lived alone. Alone was alright though. His life was downsized and simple. The house was meant for two people as well, and it sat comfortably on the acre plot he had to himself. So he built a nice urban farm with chickens and goats and grew some tomatoes, peppers, and other vegetables in the back to compensate.
He sighed and stared down at the prepared dinner he made himself for the entire week: plain rice, roasted turkey breast, and some cooked green beans. It wasn't much, but it saved him enough time to focus on his hobbies, and relax after work. He settled down into his chair, and was about to start eating when a knock on the door caused him to set his fork down.
He opened his door to see his neighbor, a homely older woman standing on his stoop.
"I'm sorry to trouble you, Caleb, but two of your chickens are running a muck in my yard. They already started to peck at Sophie, and she's scared senseless," she began in a rush. Her face was a little red from annoyance, but also a bit of anxiety, he guessed.
"No problem, ma'am, I'll get them for you. I'm sorry this happened, really, I am," he apologized. He immediately put on his boots and grabbed his keys from the hook.
"Where are they?" he asked and looked over to her property. Sure enough, two of the feistier hens were clucking and occasionally rushing with their wings spread at an invisible entity.
The two of them started walking towards his neighbor's yard. This was the fifth time this had happened this month, and his patience was starting to run thin with those birds. They never stayed in their fence, although the goats never appeared to chase them out or act hostile towards them. It was somewhat of a mystery, but he shrugged it off. Birds will be birds.
His neighbor chuckled, and he could have sworn that she read his mind. "You know, I might almost think that you're telling these birds to escape by how much it keeps happening."
Caleb shrugged. That was definitely not true.
| 2018-05-10T12:58:33 | 2018-05-10T11:17:30 | 501 | 60 |
[WP] You've just been assimilated into a hivemind... but it's a very weak one. It can't control you or anything, it's more like a telepathic group chat that you can't turn off.
|
I didn’t ask for this. I never wanted to be part of the commune. Many considered it a status symbol, even devising ways to indicate to others that they had been accepted. But not me. I didn’t want it.
My two siblings and three of my cousins were part of it, and with those numbers showing in my family tree, I knew that eventually the scouts would look me up. They never stopped recruiting, but I don’t know why. There was no clear goal from them. They just kept scouting and growing.
Some of the newer commune members acted like they expected to be the new upper tier of social hierarchy. They acted like real jerks. I just knew that this new element was creepy. Even though they had superior powers, my individuality meant too much to me to join the new club.
When I finally realized that my DNA could attract attention, I began packing. I was preparing to drive to my parents’ ranch in Wyoming. Living far away from city life seemed my best bet to avoid this new upheaval, and with my biochemistry finals over and my thesis not due for months, I was headed out.
But as I carried my first duffel bag to my car, there they were.
“Shannon Davies, you have the honor of being a likely candidate to be part of the commune,” said one woman.
I began to back away, but the man already had my arms in a painful grip, and he leaned me backwards, with his leg positioned on the ground behind me, holding me off balance.
“No, no!” I screamed, struggling as violently as I could. I let the man carry my weight and I kicked at him, but the woman was already scanning me and pricking my arm for blood.
In a few seconds, the results came back–I was a match.
“This shot contains a virus that will cause an immune response. It will activate your latent abilities,” the woman said, “Then you will be part of the commune.”
They left. My horror was great. I felt so violated from this physical and physiological attack. My life felt ruined.
Now here I was. The voices in my head constantly. But I was learning to filter them. I was also learning to alter my internal thoughts so they didn’t become part of the group chat.
I was stuck with this, but I didn’t have to give up all my autonomy. Whatever it took, I needed to be the one running my own life.
My next problem was to find out what this new commune was all about. Everyone I could hear seemed to just be giddy on the new ability. So many of them were milking it in little way, and some of them were using it to take advantage of others–teaming up to deceive people and steal from them.
Who were the original people?
I decided to risk heading to my family’s ranch anyway. I needed support from the people who loved me, but I didn’t want to be tailed. My parents needed to be spared this so they could continue their hardworking but peaceful lives.
“Shannon!,” my mother called happily, coming out onto the front porch as my car crunched on the gravel as it braked in front of their house.
As my parents and I talked in the living room, I tearfully told them the story. I was half afraid that they’d be too scared to have me there.
But nothing I said seemed to surprise them. They seemed concerned for me but not repulsed or alarmed.
“We’ve wondered if it might come to this,” said my father. “You see…your mother also was recruited.”
“What?” I shouted? “Why didn’t I know about it?”
“We bought this ranch to move away from their range of influence,” said her mother. “After I was changed, I began having some of the more influential commune members reaching out to my mind. They tried to persuade me to give them information.”
“Do you mean from your job?” I asked.
“My former job,” my mother corrected me. “Yes, they seemed interested in information from my FBI work, even though I was just admin.” She paused and seemed to be reliving that time several years before. “I never met them. I think they were contacting me from a distance. I began practicing shielding my thoughts, and then eventually we came up with this plan to get away–aliases and all.” She smiled and patted my father’s knee.
“Yes, your mom’s job skills came in handy for moving away,” her father smiled.
“But the thing is that they seemed very interested in trying to get information from me,” mom said. “I wonder if my position attracted them to me somehow. And I wonder if your exceptional abilities in chemical engineering made them seek you out also.”
I hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense.
We sat in silence for a while. Finally I spoke. “Like you, in the weeks before I came here, I was learning to shield my own thoughts and also to filter out the thoughts of others.”
I breathed deeply, “But who are they really, and what do they want? The commune members seem mostly distracted by trivial concerns.”
“We think the more senior communers are watching the recruits to look for qualities they find valuable,” said mom, “And they seem to be cataloging those individuals. But we’re not sure what their ultimate aim is.”
I sat, reflecting on the situation. I felt sick. The world hadn’t been perfect, but we didn’t need some new class of controlling people taking it over, even if they had an awesome ability. And my brother and sister were infected also. My sister had seemed excited to be part of the commune, but soon after her recruitment, she had disappeared and my brother soon afterwards. This was tearing my family, and our society, apart.
I slept well that night, exhausted from the stress and the drive. The next week helped me unwind. And after my week of reflection, I broke the news to my parents.
“I’m going back,” I said. “I know I’m up against terrible odds, but I want to see what else I can find out. What if there’s a resistance movement?”
“Honey,” said dad, “There’s only one of you. It will be very hard to find out if there’s anyone you can trust. Most people seem happy to be part of the select group. You can have a peaceful life here with us.”
“It doesn’t matter, dad,” I said. “I need to try.”
|
Stewie poured a bowl of raisin bran before soaking it in milk. Classical piano music jaunted softly as evening snacks were prepared.
Mini kolaches, finger sandwiches, his bowl of raisin bran, a jug of orange juice, a few family sized bags of chips, several bottles of water, a lovely charcuterie board with various meats and cheeses, and to top if off a bottle of Chateau Lafite's 1869.
Stewie settled into his cozy, leather, green recliner and took a quick couple puffs from his pipe, stuffed a few small kolaches into his gullet, and downed a full bottle of water. Nourished, Stewie leaned back in his chair, focusing his energy to that dark corner of his mind, hoping he wasn't late for the day's event.
\---
Oliver was mid-speech when Stewie arrived.
"..never had a united front! Look at us, we are four-hundred million men, women, and children strong, and what have we to show for it?" Oliver paused for an audience applause, one man sneezed. The other two politicians openly laughed at their podiums. "I'm glad you think this is a laughing matter. This will reflect poorly on all of us at the centennial ceremony."
Mentioning the ceremony had a profound effect, and Stewie hissed and roared along with the other minds. The hundred year ceremony would determine their next hundred years; Stewie hoped they could be ranked higher among the hives and gain the VIP status that came with the privilege.
Oliver continued on, perspiration dripping slowly down his spine to soak his pants. His airs stood on end as he continued, occasionally slamming his fist on his podium as his pits gradually wetted.
Many minds wandered. Stewie took a break to use the restroom and eat a few more mini kolaches. He also slurped up his very soggy raisin bran, just the way he likes it.
Delving back into the deeper recesses of Stewie's mind, he reentered Oliver's rather tedious speech.
As Oliver continued on about the logistical steps that could be taken to perhaps increase their hive mind ranking, Stewie felt a sharp tug to his left, towards the stairs that led up to the stage.
An enormous man cloaked in a shimmering black and red cloak mounted the stage, throwing his cape over his left shoulder with a grim confidence.
The mountain's essence reached towards the audience and politicians, sucking their minds, hearts, and souls into his.
Stewie abruptly felt his legs and arms jerking about. He, along with approximately four hundred million other men, women, and children, climbed to the highest building within a ten mile radius of their current location, and took a blessed leap into heaven.
| 2022-09-17T19:38:14 | 2022-09-17T15:00:48 | 71 | 38 |
[WP] A multitude of Alien ships warp within range of Earth. Over all electronic devices the message is heard, "Earth, we come in peace. In all the universe only one other Species has mastered Death and Destruction as you have. We need your help."
|
The Council slowly came to order. 3 species from different worlds, all of them peaceful and advanced, with a 500 year history of being the closest of allies.
And yet, this discussion might just break them apart.
Council Member Grak, tall and slender beneath the iridescent scales of his race, stood from among his delegation. "Good morning to you all. We come together today to discuss the progress of the fighting in NR-347 and NR-..."
Council Member Helios stood and interrupted Grak. "We all are aware of the fighting, even with it coming 50 years early!" Helios was hot tempered, and more prone to outbursts than the rest of his race. His 4 eyes glared balefully from his broad brown snout. "The Enemy is pushing us and our forces are barely holding. If we had not gone along with your mad scheme to arm those... *primatives* then we would have another full fleet to put on the line!"
Grak exhaled through his secondary membrane. Helios led a faction in the Council that favored simply blockading the Border Worlds and letting the Frontier fall to the enemy. When Grak had convinced the Council to give the Humans a full fleet of ships to prepare for the invasion, the rest of the 100 member assembly had assumed that they would actually be put to use. It had been the ethical thing to do, since their world was in the path of the Enemy and Humans were the only species in the area to be even close to a useful buffer. However, since the delivery of ships the only word from them was an acknowledgement of the news that fighting had started.
The Humans were... strange. All of the other Council races had been at peace with themselves for their whole histories. Descended from 2 herd races and a hive mind, fighting was simply outside their nature. Even attempting genetic manipulation to create their own soldiers had been a disaster. Hiring the Humans as mercenaries had seemed a perfect solution. There were enough of them, and they bred quickly enough, that there should have been a wall of them across the Frontier already.
Even as Grak tried to think of a counter to the arguments still issuing from his counterpart, one of the Xin stood from their delegation and the translator hummed to life. <<Queen. Alarm. Approach. Foes. Danger. Danger.>>
Grak was surprised. The Xin, looking like crabs with fingers instead of claws almost never showed any signs of concern. For them to show that now....
A guard came into the 4th chamber of the Council Hall looking as if wildfire burned behind him. "My Honors, there is a... a representative here. He demands audience!"
The Hall burst into shouts and sounds of panic. The Enemy *here*? Even as the doors opened the panic only subsided when a two legged shape came in past the lights. A black uniform and rows of colorful markings across the chest meant that this was a member of the Human military from what Grak recalled. Within ten steps, the only sound was the clicking of the Human's shoes on the stone floor as he mounted the steps to the guest podium.
"I am Fleet Commodore Da Gang. I have been sent to you to take Earth's first place on this Council."
Outrage thundered from Helios' corner of the room. Grak was not far from joining him. To demand this...!
Helios quieted his fellows and spoke. "Human, it has been 10 years and you have been silent. Now you come demanding honor as equals?! This is beyond madness! While you have been cowering, our forces have bled and died holding back the Enemy!"
Grak tuned out the tirade and watched the Human. His face changed not at all, without a twitch against the force of Helios' anger. It was worrying. Grak had not risen as far as he had without knowing when he saw a trap.
Da Gang stood with his hands behind his back, silently waiting for Helios to run out of steam. When he had the attention of the Council again, he began.
"Honors, I have been sent not just with our claim to join this Council, but also to show what we have done for a war that is, I remind you, YOUR war."
Waving an attendant forward, Da Gang began a presentation on an unfamiliar holo-emitter. "You presented us with a fleet of ships and asked us to use them to fight your Enemy. We found quickly that your ships were.... inadequate... for the task."
The visions of most of the fleet being blotted out among the stars filled the room. No one dared speak. Helios had all of his eyes fixed on the violence. His concession to allowing the Humans to have the ships was that they would be aging hulks. Grak imagined that there was some regret of that now.
Da Gang continued. "Luckily for us, however, we took some of the ships and took them apart. We learned how to make the technology you gifted us. And then we improved it."
The images changed to a moon being disassembled for materials. The shipyards above what Grak recognized as the 5th planet of their home system filled 2 entire Lagrange points. To have done all this.... to have done all this in a mere *10* *years* was unthinkable.
"Our weapons are now 50% more powerful than what the Enemy uses. As you can see," the stars making up the Human's spiral arm now dominated the room, "we have pushed back this Invasion approximately 7% since our new ships have come into use."
Flickering red dots showed the sites of battles, scattered like drops of the Humans' red blood. Several of the Enemy's colony worlds were marked. A frown crossed Grak's face. "Fleet Commodore, what are the black spots with the yellow rings?" Dread made his voice faint, but Da Gang heard him.
"After the early defeats, we needed a weapon that the enemy could not fight off. We had many of your star-drives ready, so we used them."
The images changed again. Dreadnaught engines strapped to... asteroids? But why would.... No. No, not even a race that fought itself could be so deranged.
"As you can see, these black spots are Enemy holdings that have been... neutralized."
Helios wept as the Council watched worlds burn. "How could you have done this? What have you done?"
Da Gang's expression finally changed. To surprise.
"We did as you asked."
"We brought you victory."
EDIT: [Part 2 included](https://docs.google.com/document/d/14NoT0Myy4fJGmiEiwquxhsXTaNAZoT7ZpqRBc8HjSfc/edit?usp=sharing)
|
I felt quite insulted. The aliens had come, seeking destruction. They had reviewed all of their known space and we were the answer, the only species stupidly dangerous enough to help them fight off the neverending aggressions of their enemy. That was public knowledge, the high powered broadcast they sent out upon their arrival made sure of that. Every TV channel, every radio broadcast drowned out by the signal. Even empty tin cans and rocks with a heavy iron content seemed to hum out the message. What was not public knowledge however was that we had already agreed to help. To send our best. To send our worst. The most dangerous, destructive man on the planet to aid them. They had sent me.
I guess you would call me a psychopath. I never did feel much in life, happiness eluded me but sadness never showed up either. I killed my first man at 12. He tried to touch me. I stopped him. Stopped him with a rock. I didn't feel any different after that, didn't feel the emotions that I had expected to feel. I killed three more that year. The parents of a school friend who had upset me. The man at the bus stop who annoyed me with his grumpy old opinions. It was just the start of a long life of death. I joined the army at 16. I never did quite fit in. I was relatively funny and the others accepted me well enough, but I had a look in my eyes when I killed that they never could get used to. One admitted to me later that it was more like lust than terror. It must have been true because after that I felt it for what it really was. Lust. Lust for death. Lust for the feeling of life that came only from playing the balance. I received my medals and dishonourable discharge on the same day. The officers never did ask me what really had happened that day. I don't think they really wanted to know.
I excelled as a mercenary. Killing for money. I had no need for the money, but it was a bonus, a cherry on the top of my cake. My first arrest was in America, I slipped up and left some blood at the scene. They compared it to records going back all 29 years of my life and found at least a third of my other crimes. Hundreds of murders to my name. My cell was built especially for me, a nice touch I felt, they respected my talent. It was portable my cell, so that they would never need to let me out. Never need to expose the world to the risk that I would pose. I'm still in my cell now. Flying at speeds that shouldn't exist in physics as we know it. Approaching something almost as dangerous as me. I'm still feeling quite insulted, but there's something else, something deeper.
Lust.
**[Edit: Part two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/38w47q/wp_a_multitude_of_alien_ships_warp_within_range/crzc6mo)** as requested by u/DINDU___NUFFIN
| 2015-06-07T08:10:25 | 2015-06-07T05:24:46 | 164 | 45 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps...
|
**Part 1 of 4**
The greatest stars aren't born, they're made. The words were written across the wall of John's room when his phone rang.
"Hey John, you want to go to the beach?" the voice on the other end asked.
"Dude, the beach man? I went to the beach once. It was a nightmare. I spent hours getting rid of the sand. It got everywhere, stuck everywhere, and took me weeks to get rid of. I swear, if someone throws rice at me at my wedding I'll likely have to spend my honeymoon in jail for murder."
"Oh right, the gravity thing. Yeah, uh, maybe next time. We'll hit up the arcade, alright?"
"Sure thing man. Later." *click*
John sighed and looked around his room. It was a normal looking room. Perhaps immaculately clean, but otherwise normal. Not a single scrap of loose paper or speck of dust. A series of heavy plastic boxes with latched lids lined one wall, filled with all of his miscellaneous items. Posters adorning the wall were encased in heavy frames firmly nailed to the wall as if each one was a precious artifact you might find in a museum.
"You'd think that a guy that even inanimate objects are mildly attracted to would have an easier time at finding and attracting his soulmate." John muttered to the room. "Screw it, this room is depressing, I'm going to the library."
Although the library was only a few blocks away from his house, John got into his car and backed out of his driveway. The windows were securely rolled up, not that they could be any other way. He'd cut the wires that powered the windows long ago. Of course he'd never roll them down, but you never knew if some jackoff friend might roll one down while driving past some tree with falling leaves and then laugh as they affixed themselves to John's head for the rest of the drive. John liked the library. Nice cement parking lot and a clear path inside without any flowers or trees or potted plants in his way. He loved reading history books of the various famous heroes and their powers. It was exciting to read about the flashy couples who matched strength and speed together, or vision and hearing. But his favorites were the unlikely matches. The couples who started out really mundane, but after pairing up, really became stars.
As John entered the library, pushing some balloons out of his face as he walked through the entryway. Fortunately, they were securely tied down, and once beyond the range of their strings, they merely strained and pointed at him like weird rounded arrows. The library celebrated its 100th anniversary last week. There had been far more balloons, and they weren't all tied down then. He hadn't stayed long, and when he left, a fair number of the balloons had left with him. It was embarrassing, made worse by the president of the library calling HIM personally to apologize. The celebrating committee has missed the memo that the kind regular staff had noted about him. No matter.
John walked down towards towards the historical fantasy section. Here "based on a true story" meant that real couples with real powers would go on fictional tales of grand adventure. As he started down the aisle he spotted a girl at the opposite end. Their eyes locked. Instantly, he knew.
They took one step towards each other. Then another. The books on the shelf started vibrating. John noticed out of the corner of his eyes. He knew that his powers would increase when he was with his soul-mate. In the back of his mind he thought about how his already annoying power would just become more annoying, but there she was. His eyes were transfixed on her. Two more steps. Was it getting warm in the library? John began sweating. Books began falling off the shelves and sliding across the floor to pile up around his ankles. Two more steps. He was now mere feet away, and the unnatural heat emanating from her was getting intense. Her hair was standing straight out from her head towards him, pulling them together.
One more step together, on top of the pile of books pooled at his feet. There was fear in her eyes, but neither could resist.
Both raised one arm and stretched out their fingers to touch. The heat was blistering. Just one inch more. Their fingers touched, and for a split second out of the corners of their eyes they saw the shelves come rushing towards them while bursting into flames.
John's last thought, was the words written on his wall. Something about stars...
Edit: [Part 2 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvb8sx), though not sure if it spoils the feel of part 1...
Edit 2: [Part 3 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvowrk) and [Part 4 here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3o7rtq/wp_everybody_in_the_world_has_a_superpower_that/cvvox0u), to close out the arc!
|
The knife spread the condiment across the bread smoothly, covering the surface with mayo. As I absentmindedly put together the sandwich I looked around, everybody at the party with their special someone, watching the countdown to the new year, talking, eating and other New Years Party themed activities.
It was almost midnight, and I was relegated to the kitchen, making snacks for everyone else. That's my power. While others get things like super speed, enhanced strength and durability, I get the phenomenal power of being a somewhat talented sandwich maker. But here's the kicker, they say that when you find 'the one', you know, your soulmate, your power gets better. They say it gets more powerful. I laugh at them. I found my 'soulmate'. Yeah, my power increased, I could make a hell of soup on those nights when I was with him. Too bad the idea of a soulmate is a complete load.
After 3 months of dating I found out he was seeing someone else on the side, you know why? He said the sex was better with his new boyfriend. I, on the otherhand was left high and dry when he broke the news, heart broken and missing what I thought was my other half. But you know what I realized that day? The increase in power, the soulmate thing, is a load of shit. You know how I know? The soup and sandwiches have never been better.
| 2015-10-10T08:52:41 | 2015-10-10T07:56:54 | 150 | 56 |
[WP] As a henchman to the Joker, you've now broken the record for the longest surviving employee. This means you'll receive something no one ever has from him: your annual review.
|
Gunner was grinning before he even started speaking, "Boss, wants to see you."
He may as well have told me that I was walking into my own funeral. Mr. J doesn't ask for any of us personally. If anything, he just calls for a number and that amount of goons come running, ready to embark on whatever suicide mission he has planned.
I've been here longer than any of these idiots. I've seen guys last 6 months. I've even seen a few make it 8. I've never seen anyone make it a full year. I wish I could say it was because I'm smarter than the rest. If I was, would I be here though?
I thought it was a joke when they told me I had my annual employee review coming up. I blew it off and did what I've always done. I kept my head down, managed to land in the right spots at the right time, and somehow managed to survive this long.
The door was already open when I rounded the corner. Nothing about this opening felt inviting. Here we go. Breathe in. It may be your last, chief.
"Ahh! There he is! The man of the hour! HA HA HAA!" Mr. J cackled as I entered.
I didn't know what to say so I smiled. I SMILED! Why in the fuck would I smile? This is already going great..
He seemed to not even notice, "sit down, sit down, please! Make yourself comfortable, Lio. It is Lio, isn't it?"
"Yes sir. You got it boss!"
He got up from his seat while nonchalantly pulling his knife out of the wood of his desk and walked behind me.
"Well.. well," he said as he draped himself over my shoulders, spinning his knife in front of my face. "A whole year. I can't even believe it! The first goon to make it this far. How do you feel? Tired? You look tired. HA HA HAAH!"
"Not at all Boss! I can sleep when I'm dead. Whatever you need done, I got it!"
"Is that so? We have a real ambitious one here. HA HA HAAH! I like that. I thought we could commemorate this momentous occasion with a game! What do you say? Does that sound enjoyable, Lio?"
It's always been hard to get a read on Mr. J. He's smiling one moment, and the next someone is bleeding out next to you. Most of the time the soon to be dead were his own men. He was sporadic to say the least. This game he is mentioning can't be anything good but the last thing I want to do is piss him off.
"I'm in, boss. What game did you want to play?"
"HA HA HAAH! Oh joy! That's what I wanted to hear. Let me explain it to you!"
With that he was back around his side of the desk. He plopped down into his throne and sat up uncomfortably straight. He placed the knife down and laid his right hand down over it. He laid his left hand down on his golden pistol he's been so fond of over this past year.
"It's called fuck one, kill one, marry one. HA HA HAAH! Have you heard of this one before, Lio?"
"I have, Boss. Some of the guys and I play it quite often."
Wrong answer. I can tell by the instantaneous change in his demeanor. The smile is gone. I think he may be staring into my soul.
"Well then. Let's get started."
With one clap of his hands 3 women parade in from behind me and stand directly behind me. I nearly swallow my tongue when I recognize one of them to be Harley. This won't end well.
"Choose, Lio. There's no take backs though. All decisions are final."
The first choice was easy. One of the women was crying and wouldn't open her eyes. I pointed at her first.
"Kill."
Before I could blink he had turned his gun on her and turned the contents of her head into a new wallpaper.
I didn't flinch. I've learned to never flinch around Mr. J. He doesn't take too fondly to fear. The next choice was going to be much harder. Should I choose to fuck or marry Harley? What's the answer he's looking for?
She is the queen. I guess I'll choose marriage. Do I have much of a choice?
I pointed to the other woman who was now sobbing uncontrollably.
"Fuck."
"Looks like you just got fucked," Mr. J said as he moved towards her with his knife.
She barely had time to close her eyes before he stabbed her. She laid there bleeding and never took her eyes off of me.
"Well, well, Lio. You have one last choice to make."
I pointed to Harley, who by this point was grinning ear to ear.
"Marry."
He became jubilous once again. He looked like I had just told him the funniest joke he had ever heard.
"HA HA HAAH! Lio! Is that anyway to treat your boss? You come into my office and try to marry my wife? HA HA HAAH! Harley, what do you think about this?"
As soon as she opened her mouth to speak he struck her. She was visibly shaken.
He spun back to face me, and was even more serious than before.
"The game is over. Get the fuck out of my office. Now!"
It felt like I was out of there before he even finished speaking. That was the only time I've spoken with Mr. J personally. I'm starting to wonder if I should even attempt to make it to another annual review. Maybe those dead goons were smarter than I thought.
|
Well. It's time.
I walked into his office. It was dark, the only light in the room was a spotlight on a chair in the middle. "Sit down." He said. I walked to the center and sat in the chair, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.
I made it. A full year surviving under The Joker himself.
The room filled with light, and I saw The Joker and Harley Quinn sitting in front of me, popping confetti.
"Congratulations! You are my first low-level employee to reach a full year of work! That makes you employee of the year!"
"Thanks, Mr. Joker."
"However, one must think about how you made it this far. You were never the first to charge into battle for me, you never took night patrols, and you never went with me for our big hits. I really don't know, do you even work for me?"
"Of course I do, sir!"
"But do you really? Look behind you, that's your pay for this year."
Behind me was a considerable amount of cash, most certainly from robberies.
"I didn't know our pay was this high."
"Yes, it is. Blow it up."
"Excuse me?"
"Blow. It. Up. Show me that you care more about chaos than you care about money, show me that you are loyal to our cause. Blow it up."
"A-alright. How?"
Harley Quinn gave me a stick of dynamite and a matchbook. I went to the pile of cash and stuck the dynamite in it.
"Not like that! We're not Batman here, do it like you work for me and mean it. Throw it."
I ignited the dynamite and threw it into the pile. I missed.
"Come on, man. You had it. You could have done a year and a day, but you can't even throw a stick of dynamite right. I don't need you here. Get out."
I walked towards the door, fearing for my life, as a loud bang came from behind me. Before I could even register it, my brains were splattered all over the door, and my body fell down on the floor, lifeless.
| 2016-11-21T02:20:06 | 2016-11-20T21:59:16 | 333 | 72 |
[WP] You've sold your soul to the devil to become a lawyer who's "good enough to get out of a deal with the devil"
|
I had this idea, when I met Him. It was kind of hard to miss that the Devil looked like a lawyer; mostly it was the suit that did it. Three-piece, tailored, charcoal with a red shirt underneath. Looked expensive.
Originally I was planning to take over the world. Sell my soul to rent a few thousand demons and conquer the planet. I would've been a decent King, I think. I was gonna do it for all the right reasons, destroy all the world's borders, scrap the nukes, build a utopia in its place. I figured that was worth one soul, even if it was mine.
But then I had that fucking idea. I wanted to have my cake and eat it too. I figured if I made exactly the right deal, I could take over the world and win back my soul along the way. The munchkin answer. You know, I wish for three more wishes.
Rules lawyering. That was the term that came to mind when I first met the Devil, dressed in that expensive tailored suit because this is, after all, his career. In hindsight I should've totally wished for three wishes. One to make everyone immortal and eternally young. One to let them teleport at will. And sure, why not one for three more wishes.
He can't ever take another soul if no one ever dies. Including mine. And let's say he sends an army of demons to conquer across the world and drag everyone to Hell by force; folks could teleport away from the pitchforks and hellfire to wherever hasn't yet been burned. He could take Earth and it wouldn't matter; we could go to Mars since we don't need air anymore. Then somewhere nicer. One of those probably-habitable planets NASA keeps finding. Good luck following us there.
That's what I should've done. But I looked at that suit, at that legalese contract and clipboard in Satan's hands, and I thought I had a better chance if I came up with an idea the Devil would *respect.* Figured if I had the stones and the wit to tell the Devil to his face that I would con him and then actually manage to do it, he wouldn't be mad.
So I said "I want to be a lawyer good enough to get out of a deal with the Devil."
The Devil grinned, and that was the first time I really saw his teeth. They were different-shaped, but I can't exactly describe how. They're not meant for chewing food like ours are. I think that's why. He kept grinning as I signed.
And then he said, "I could twist that contract into a noose right now, if I wanted. I could make you a lawyer of average skill, and a morally good enough man for God to step in and take back your soul, if he decided he wanted to. But I won't do that. I'll give you the contract in the spirit you intended."
I had nightmares every night for two months. Then my first term in law school started, the tuition paid in money from nowhere, and my nightmares stopped. I drank in every word of every book like a sponge. I could quote any textbook, any case you can name, word for word from start to finish. And you wouldn't fucking believe the silver tongue I've got in the courtroom.
None of it mattered that day, my fiftieth birthday, when Satan stepped into the courtroom with all disguises cast aside, in the horrible fullness of his inverted glory. You might think the Devil's true form is incomprehensible to mortals, but you're wrong. It's worse because you can comprehend every inch of it, and you can't look away.
The Prince of Hell's wings are black and formless, spreading from the tops of his shoulders to the horizon on either side, visibly reaching there through walls. He has the skull of a ram with three-foot horns, and stretched over it is the skin of a human face, with no veins or flesh between. You can see the shape of the skull. His eyes are horrible green light.
From the waist down he's covered in black fur, he has cloven hooves but it's not quite enough to picture the legs of a goat; those are too thin. His hands are human. I know because he laid one over each of my ears when he came into the room, and when he spoke, his voice came from his palms.
He explained to me what I got wrong.
"I MADE YOU A GOOD ENOUGH LAWYER TO GET OUT OF OUR CONTRACT," said the Devil, "BUT I'VE NEVER GIVEN YOU THE OPPORTUNITY TO DO IT."
Then he popped my head like a grape.
|
"And, your Honor, that's why the deal I made with the devil should be made null and void."
The judge looked over at the Devil, who was representing himself, and said to him, "And your defense?"
"Well, you see," said the Devil with the smile, not even bothering to stand. "I sold his soul to Beezelbub."
My face dropped in horror, as the case was dismissed.
Outside the courtroom, a demon approached the Devil with a briefcase. Upon opening it, a stack of papers were seen.
"Oh," the Devil said with a coy smile as he glanced from Beezelbub to me. "Are you selling the soul back to me?"
Beezelbub nodded, handing the Devil a pen. Staring at me the whole time, the Devil signed all the papers with a flourish.
My soul once again belonged to him.
| 2017-06-24T16:07:15 | 2017-06-24T10:51:01 | 30 | 14 |
[WP]You live in a Dystopian world where eye color determines your social class. 20 years later a baby is born with red eyes.
This could be fun it already has implied racial themes, discrimination and anti-meritocracy. Do with it what you will.
|
"The fucking thing's got red eyes, red Josh! can you believe it?"
He slapped me heartily on the back, "Aye boss you should know better than to call your baby girl a 'thing'."
"Well what the hell else should I call it? I don't even bloody know that that means, no one does, not even the doctors," my voice was beginning to slur and the mug teetering in my hand was starting to splash onto my shoes.
"Fuck's sake man, what do you expect? The capital fell ten years ago mate, no one remembers what those rules mean, but a lot of good it did us, it's even worse now than it was before."
It was a sobering thought, We thought after a revolution everything would be better, everything would be equal, but it wasn't. Everything that was in place before held true even though we'd damn near set the entire country on fire.
Anything between brown and dark brown made you a dead spot, a drone, living in the urban areas around the city since you were disconnected from the network. The blues, the greens, those bastards could sense things and kept to themselves. I don't know if it was shared emotions or just being able to read them in the others like them but it made them special, and special meant leadership.
"My boy's started dating a blue you know," his words startled me back into reality, "says she's tried every means of explaining the sensations to him but he can't even begin to imagine it. Thank god for brown you know? Don't want anyone else in my head."
"You sure her family will allow someone of such low stature to walk through their pearly gates?" Josh looked in good spirits enough to take the joke.
He returned my broad grin with another one. "You don't need to be in someone's brain to know when they're getting a good workout mate, and I'll bet you next month's wages that the mother and father try their best to eavesdrop on them when they're at it, he takes after his father after all."
"So you're saying they know he's too small to make much of a difference!" The table around us roared with laughter.
A few more drinks passed between us before I set off on the way home, stumbling just a little bit but not too drunk to find my way. We were still rebuilding, it had taken that long to recover from the months of destruction. Almost like it hadn't happened everyone went right back to work the next day, blues and greens in upper management, browns and hazels back to lifeless corporate drones. If it wasn't for the geographic scars in every city you wouldn't have thought there was a revolt at all.
Things were better though, we were getting living wages compared to what it was before, and we were working on a better means for dark eye representation in that charade of a government. Real hard to find a common voice among the masses when the fucking minority can already tell how their peers plan to vote. At the very least relationships like Jared's, Josh's son, were legal and the boundaries between the different communities were finally started to break down a bit. It'd be a better world for our kids maybe, well for most kids.
Jean was fast asleep when I climbed up the stairs, slumped into the couch close but not quite inside the bedroom. I walked into the baby room next to our bedroom and saw Melody sitting in her crib. It wasn't right, she didn't squirm, she didn't move, just stared upwards past the mobile above her crib, like she was looking through the ceiling.
She was my daughter all the same, and I'd missed my turn to watch her by about thirty minutes, so I slumped into the chair next to her crib to try my best to keep her from hurting herself. Easy work given that she didn't move much, even easier work once I found myself slipping into a drunken sleep.
The dream was the same as all the previous nights, and the real reason I'd tried to drink myself into a stupor. We were all in a line, people I knew, people I'd glimpsed, people I'd never seen before and we were naked. An empty doorway in front of us led into an office, but only one person at a time was allowed in. Every night I got closer but every night I willed myself awake before I had to go through.
Eye color didn't seem to matter in the line though, we were all the same, but it never felt quite comfortable. I'd no problem with the nudity, it was a dream after all, but it just didn't feel right. Tonight I was too drunk to wake myself up, so I'd have to see it through.
When it was my turn to step through the door I saw a pile of bodies that stretched much further back than I could contemplate, and a chair sitting in front of a group of men and women simply standing there. I fought for control as I would in any dream where I was semi-lucid, but couldn't quite get control over my body.
I walked over and sat down instead, or at least I did in my dream, and slowly raised my head to meet the eyes of what seemed to be my judges. Their eyes were pitch black, and then everything was pitch black.
"Scott, Scott, you have to wake up! Scott!", I was groggy but could hear Jean's voice breaking through, pulling me awake. I sat upright in the couch and my eyes adjusted to the room around me.
"You've been screaming for an hour," her makeup had streaked down her face, "I couldn't wake you, nothing would, nothing could." She slumped into my outstretched arms. "I thought you were dying Scott, I thought you were leaving me."
"I'm so sorry love, I didn't know, I should, it was the dream."
"You've got to see someone about it Scott, you've rocked and turned but never anything like this, you have to go talk to a doctor."
"I know Jean, and I'm sorry, you just get back to sleep, sorry for disturbing you, any word out of the little freak?" I smiled weakly.
"You know I hate it when you call her that" she said, trying to glare at me. I could see the exhausted look in her eyes and pointed towards the bedroom.
"This time let's manage to sleep on the bed instead of near it." Before I'd finished she was walking back towards the room.
I was still a bit disoriented but managed to shake it out of my head in an effort to walk over to the crib. There she was, same as always, lying perfectly still and "stargazing". She looked content enough, and I figured it was time for both of us to cut the lights and get, at least for me, some more shut eye.
As I turned to reach for the light switch those gorgeous little red eyes stared directly at me with an intensity I'd never seen before. A bit taken aback I stared back at her bewildered and it was a few seconds before I realized she looked sad. I'd never seen sadness in a baby's eyes before, true sadness, and it froze me to the spot.
In that moment I felt a tingle in my head, sort of like something was digging into my skull but also tickling it. Our eyes were still locked when I heard a faint childlike voice in my head and realized the source was sitting right in front of me.
"I can feel them coming."
|
There are a lot of ways to make money in this "perfect" world of ours, some upright and honest, other cruel and vicious.
I don't make the rules, i don't follow the either. "murky" is a way to describe my eyes. Destined for destitute, hell i was lucky I've lived this long. twenty five, living way in river of blood. hahahahaha, but it's amazing, such a rush. ever felt so much anger it gets converted into ecstasy! Although sad, my story, it's not like i lost my precious lover but constant humiliation and being beaten within half a inch of your live on a regular bases changes your perspective.
What? hmm, no! no! no! It's not like i had a choice, you wouldn't understand. Always spouting that love this, love that. pfffftt! hahaha.
----
I wake up, the stench is horrible. It's me isn't it? stop laughing! who cares about being clean, getting dirty is just a matter of time. anyway we got a job to do, some noble, easy job. he loves slumming it.
----
ahhh! why! meh. doesn't matter, they never survive anyway. i think i'm going in to deep. well the eyes are still intact. hehehe, he was in the middle of it. The girl won't stop screaming. Shut up! God damn't! Stop! i'm leaving, how anoying.
----
This one is going to be a little harder, and such a pretty one aswell. Something so beautiful. Makes you wonder, are all things rotten from the inside? mm, no your right i'm still beautiful. One day we'll have the most beautiful eyes...
----
Blood red, but it's a child. such heavy security. the only one in the world! I wan't it! shhh. I´m taking it. no, well. hmm you're right. But we'll just raise it for a while. Like chickens to the slaughter! Hahahaha! chicken, i'm hungry.
----
That wasn't hard at all, so called "child of prophesy" wasn't all that. Can't even talk, just mumbles and drools.
----
Ohhhh! The crying won't stop! Why won't it stop! wait! No we can't hurt it, it's still too small. give it some eyes to play with. I'm going to find some food for it, it's fine if we leave it for a while, where is it going to go?
----
It hurts, they shot me. No! how did they find us, was it you? you lovey dovey, peaceloving child! Damnit! it was you after all? Stop crying this was all your fault. Now we're going to die. And it's just staring at me, playing with my, MY! Collection! Ahhh i can hear them running here. All for those red eyes, everthing is burning. What's so special about eyes anyway? I've got hundreds, hundreds! Blue, green, yellow, black and white. Alright old friend i guess it's fine. there, there. It's all good now, mabey we'll be reborn with beautiful new eyes. Everyone will love us. ye, they will won't they? Right? Mmmm.
----
*A vicious serial killer has been found with princess Kalara, in the killers hideout were evidence of hundreds upon hundreds of victims. All nobles of superior standing and status. The woman was confirmed to have murky mixed color eyes. Proving yet again that we won't be safe until the eradication finishes.
| 2015-08-24T13:15:07 | 2015-08-24T12:02:56 | 26 | 17 |
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