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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
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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int64 14
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[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
|
It was a typical night in LA. People getting piss all drunk and underage people trying to get into the club, my club. I always laughed at the smugness of some of them. Always compensating with false confidence, it was kind of pathetic. 15 years and a perfect record for keeping out underage guests and they still tried every night. Almost like they had something to prove.
This night however was about to get strange. I had just turned away a couple of probably seniors trying to celebrate graduation early when he walked up. Clean with a perfectly tailored suit that looked more expensive than anything I could afford with strikingly blue eyes like daggers of ice. His face terrified me. His sunken cheeks and sharp jaw really made him look threatening but the most terrifying part was his age. 8590. After a few seconds he spoke, his voice a flawless British accent.
"Are you going to let me into my club?" He spoke with a perfect smile.
"Yes, of course." I replied snapping out of my haze.
His club? He couldn't be serious, right?
The next night came and again he came; just as tailored as last night. This time he had a woman with him. I recognised her from somewhere but couldn't place it.
"Evening, I have a plus one tonight." He spoke cheerfully.
"Of course, sir." Who is this guy?
A few hours later both him and the woman exited the club and we're having a conversation on the sidewalk. He was flipping a coin, no spinning. He was spinning a coin as it floated above his palm. Floated. Then it all went to shit.
A car came by with loud rap music playing, a man pulled a gun and began firing on the man and the his guest and then was broadsides by a semi in the intersection.
The police arrived and questioned everyone. One of the detectives walked up to the apparently new owner of the club at the piano.
"Lucifer Morningstar?" She questioned stifling a laugh.
"The one and only." He replied.
That, can't be. He can't actually be. He'd have to older.
A few moments passed and he walked up to me and said.
"They only count years I've been on Earth." And walked off.
|
"I'm sorry sir, but this ID is fake."
"Who the hell do you think you are boy? If you had any idea who I-"
"Sir, I"m going to have to ask you to present me with some real proof of identity. You are not 24."
"What the hell do you know you insolent prick, this ID is more real than anything you will contribute to this society over the course of your lifetime."
I sighed. I'd considered not confronting him, letting him pass, but his demeanour was pissing me off.
"You're outside our age range for the night. We admit individuals aged 21 to 30 here. You sir seem to have missed that cut off range by about two thousand years."
He paled, then turned red. Began to turn, turned back, stumbled in his indecisiveness and would have fallen if not for the press of bodies all vying for my attention.
"Don't tell me they give you *optorithmen* for working as bouncer now?"
Obviously deciding it wasn't worth waiting for an answer he began pushing his way back through the crowd, and then down the street into the inky night. Historians I find, despite their age, really are idiots. I shook my head and returned to checking IDs. It was never any trouble, after the enclave's gift. Scanning the plastic cards was more of a formality, and a safety procedure, than a necessity. If I turned people away at a glance those who aren't aware would get suspicious.
The night wore on, and I did my job damn well if I do say so myself.
I stepped aside for a break at 11:58. I like to watch the numbers change from 11 to 12 at midnight. As the 31st became the first, I sighed. One more month till one more year left of my contract. Then what. Maybe I should become a historian myself. It could be pretty interesting, but 10,000 years of service for an 11,000 year life extension seemed like a bit of a crap deal. Our historians, like normal dentists, had a disproportionally high suicide rate - that definitely says something. Just because you *can* live for ever doesn't really mean you *should* live for ever. It's not for everybody.
Still there are other cool gifts with lower prices that I'd been thinking about. The enclave will grant you your gift, in exchange for service, and some gifts cost more than others. Usually these gifts allow us to serve above and beyond the normal line of duty, helping Them whenever They needed it. Not every club has people like me working the door, but for high class establishments like mine, normal security doesn't usually cut it. I hear the security are granted *musculi* here, but I've never actually seen them have to use it. Rumour is that big business goes on in the VIP section here, but in all honesty, I'd never seen any proof. I almost agreed with the angry old man. *Optorithmen* was totally overkill for a bouncer job, but who am I to argue with a gift for a job I'd propably do anyway. I figure I'll end up accruing as many as I can, doing odd jobs till I feel they want to get on with me life - plus my additions. A lot of people work till they're given a job too unpalatable to do and then they draw they line. So far I've only had easy work - club admission included. And of course the enclave gives us our years back. I've been working the door here for just under nine now, and when I'm done I expect be given my ten back ASAP.
I rejoin the other bouncers, my break is over. I wonder how many of then can see ages like I can. Technically I'm not allowed to ask. I could lose my job and my abilities if I reveal the enclave's gifts to anybody ordinary. You never know who's working right beside you. I haven't seen any of them around the enclave but that doesn't mean anything. It's big enough that two people might not meet in over a thousand years, if they're working in separate departments. As the night progresses, the crowd thins. The salty historian returns a few hours later, but I shake my head before he can say a word and he storms off again, this time for good. I almost feel bad for him. Cooped up all day pouring over musty texts (old even back in his day) - and then having to synthesise it all into some dry report - would make anybody want to get fucked up on the dance floor, but I have to do my job and he knows it. Slowly the crowd thins to zero and I can go home.
Ronny, my girlfriend, might be getting home soon too. She works nights as well. She's a night scout actually - with *optolux* and *auribus* - basically she walks the streets and calls the police when she hears or sees any petty crimes being committed. Much cooler than my job. Cop patrols aren't nearly as efficient as they'd have you believe, so she does their job for them. Actually, she's recently sent in an application for telepathy so she can skip the whole dialling them on the phone thing, but I'd doubt they'll grant it to her. Telepathy is a pretty heavily demanded gift, and the enclave likes to really squeeze you for service for the nice ones.
I call an Uber and text her as I hop in. "See u soon babe?"
"mmhm" "home in 20 mins."
As I doze off in the back of the car, a smile flits across my face.
| 2017-09-02T00:24:05 | 2017-09-02T00:20:37 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Your job as a researcher in the facility isn't too bad. The hours are shit and the coffee maker is broken, but at least the people are nice. And the job is easy: talk to the telepathic spider, run some tests on the witch, give the eldrich god his daily newspaper, basic stuff. Describe your day
Inspired by the SCP foundation
|
*I see you are still terrified of me, Brian.*
The words did feel warm in my mind, I admit, but I still felt no place for them.
*Yes,* I thought, as Bul'grum lowered herself down in front of me. With a body the size of a catcher's mitt, it was hard to imagine the thin thread shot from her spinneret was keeping her up, but there she was, all 8 eyes transfixed on me.
*But soon you will understand how special you are to me.*
*Mm-hmm.* I thought politely.
*You resist, but I know you feel my warmth. I love you, Brian. Please do not leave.*
I placed the neatly wrapped food parcel at my feet, never taking my eyes off her. I nodded slightly and walked out, still not fully turning around.
*See you tomorrow Brian.*
I half-shuddered. I mean she wouldn't be so bad if she weren't an unholy arachnid. Her voice is sexy as hell.
The witch was 5th-dimensional today and I was having none of it. When she did appear, it was only in a distant part of my memory, and only then for a second- no sooner had I retrieved the thought than she would be gone again. I sprayed neutrino nutrition liberally and threw the can on the ground, and I took great satisfaction in the harsh, echoing clatter. Fuck this.
It was much warmer and calmer in the hallway than in the witch's room, and I relaxed. Hopefully Shogg-Lu'um was in a good mood.
Opening the door to his room felt like opening the door to an airplane at 10,000 feet. It was an insultingly large room, made possible by taking spacetime and bending it over a barrel, and inhabited by what I imagined was a pretty cool dude, actually.
Just a distant rumble, somewhere beyond the great stacks of clouds produced by this room's weather system. The wall behind me stretched up and in both directions in a way I found pretty nauseating, so I mostly just kept my eyes on the delicate cherry wood kitchen table and chair set about 40 yards away. It had appeared one day, much to my delight, along with a game set up on it. It was usually Sorry! Today it was Parcheesi.
The rumble now again, much closer. The air changed and I felt a charge in it, the way you feel before lightning strikes except it never stops. It always makes my heart beat a little funny and sometimes i think I can feel myself being taken apart and put back together but not always right. Important part here is not to look up not in his general direction. That's what the nice little table and chairs and game are for, something to focus on.
When Shogg finally arrived, I instantly urinated myself as usual and he was gracious enough to remove the mess, and then took the liberty of removing all of the stuff getting ready for load-out, straight out of my guts, because he thinks humans hate feces but doesn't get that the act itself can be very relieving. I sincerely hate it when he does that.
I put his newspaper in the empty chair across from me. I put a red piece (don't choose blue, that's his favorite) in the starting location and rolled no fives in any combination. It was his turn to roll the dice, and he did this time-dilation thing that he knows fucks with me. The two dice lifted into the air, briefly stretched to infinity, then landed, each one showing '2.5'. Gingerly, a blue piece lifted and made its move, and it landed at such an angle that it spun round and round, faster and faster until it achieved an almost piercing tone. It stopped.
I pulled out a chair and sat down, sighing. It was going to be one of *those* days.
|
I'm so glad someone finally asked!
My day is, in a lot of ways, totally trivial. I admit when I first started it took some getting used to, but now, several years in, it feels just like any other job.
Every day starts with me driving to the facility and parking in the above ground lot. I have an old Kia, nothing special, and I always park in between two legal spots on the far side of a major big box store I can't really go into any more detail about. Winky.
Anyway, when the right car parks in the right spot, it is brought down via hydraulics to the holding facility. That's where I show my ID and change into my uniform.
There's a real nice guard at the front - we call him Jose - but he's not exactly human. He lives in the booth at the front of the giant underground facility, the whole multi-acre complex bored out from the bedrock. He appears to us in human form, speaks in a human voice, but that's really just for our psychological benefit. His true form is a sentient vapor with intense psychic abilities. He was one of the first subjects - someone found him in the bell tower of an abandoned church - lonely and purposeless.
That was almost 80 years ago now. These days he is the face of the organization, in a sense. He loves his small confines - something about his physiology I'm told, he likes tight spaces - and his straight forward purpose as a psychic barrier to entry makes him feel useful.
"How's it going Jose?"
"Doing great Barry!" Then without fail Jose guesses the right number I'm thinking with a smile. "2,543,111." It never gets old.
Right inside the facility I check in with my supe, confirm facility status and my assigned route, and then put on the "utility belt." That's what we call the heavy duty leather belt we all wear in the facility, decked out with a wide variety of defensive and aggresive supplies and tools, enough to cover almost any situation.
Gas mask, active lens goggles that can darken as black as a welding mask, ear plugs *and* over ear noise cancelling ear muffs, aerosolyzed acid, aerosolyzed base, conventional pepper mace, much less conventional non-pepper mace I can't disclose the exact contents of but which works very well against non-physical vapors and specters. A taser, a pistol, a knife. A small pocket loaded with tiny symbols from every major religion on earth. A holy water vial, a salt water vial, a heavy water vial. A small packet of live roaches and a variety of other tiny things that I haven't thought about in some time.
Perhaps most importantly, and in fact the only thing I've ever used on the whole belt, is the prepared syringe of sedative. There are a couple of subjects it might work against, but its primary purpose is to knock *me* out - which is what I used it for several years ago when the Soul Seeker broke free for a few hours. There are a host of creatures who simply ignore the unconscious, and in the event of certain breaches of security, stabbing oneself in the thigh with a sedative is the first course of action.
Once I'm all decked out, it's time to start the rounds. By this point its usually 7AM and the fellas are getting ansy. My route passes by several of the "heavy hitters" in the facility. Some cannot be discussed. I cannot be more specific about that. I hope you understand what i mean, if you are familiar with the database of the facility you may understand what I'm *not* referring to.
Once I move on, I encounter the Man-Child God of Bolivia - Hacua. Hacua is a real character - he has a mostly normal material cell, except for a few runic hexes laser etched into the concrete. The cell itself is plexiglass, mostly because Hacua is a spitter. Hacua eats meat, but likes to play with his food - about a goat a week. I feel badly about the goats, don't get me wrong, but when they found Hacua in the Bolivian rain-forest, he was terrorizing the local populace, eating children after luring them into on a not so merry chase. Contextually, a goat once a week is a small price to pay to keep him sated.
Next we come up against the living Golem of Akarat. Its an incredible creature, it's cage is made of sheer titanium, four feet thick. It has a tiny, 8 by 8 inch aperture, through which we sometimes converse or pass pulp romance novels from the supermarket. "Ak" - I call him "Ak" - has a real soft spot for cheesy romance novels. Technically we aren't *obligated* to provide him new books, but it keeps him calm, which is good, because although he can't breach the walls of his age, he can make his entire complex shake like the dickens.
Once me and Ak catch up on the most recent addition to our unofficial bookclub, I move onto the Hargrove Lich. He's a bit of a dick, tbh. We hold him in a powerful electromagnetic sphere, as it suppresses his evil magicks, and his bony frame is shackled to the concrete floor. I can't really blame him for being pissy, he's physically very weak - and unkillable to boot. So he just lays there, day in day out. He likes classical music though - apparently he was a composer once upon a time, however many centuries ago, so I try to buy him new works on CD whenever I can, which we play on a small boombox. He just tells me to fuck off, but I think he appreciates it.
It's not all just incarceration, we do run tests on some of the subjects. There is the telepathic spider someone found controlling the mind and body of a hulking biker in Nebraska. Apparently the little fella can bore into mammalian brain matter and take over like a driver at the wheel of a car. Right now we have him running an otherwise brain dead man's body through its paces, testing coordination and vocal prowess. So far the spider has done incredibly well, although we still can't fully understand how it works its magic.
The spider's test has recently been taking me all the way to noon and a lunch break. The folks who work at the facility are an eclectic bunch, and some of them have...well...seen some shit. You have Jeremy with the ten thousand mile stare. He's all there inside, at least HR OK'd him, but ever since his encounter with a Banshee, he just can't make eye contact with anyone. There's this one dude with two artificial legs chopped off by a living sword we call Snip. Ronald has only one eye, the other one still being displayed on the pointer finger of some nameless torture demon in high-sec. No one can go in there to get it, but they changed Ron's shift so he didn't need to look at it everyday.
I want to go on, but I'm being called to the cell of a sentient, floating face, whose name evades me at the moment. I think they found him in some endless basement somewhere, eventually sucked him into a box using a radioactive gamma vacuum. The alarm is going off now. I'll be back in a bit.
## r/LFTM
| 2018-04-23T11:08:29 | 2018-04-23T09:55:13 | 62 | 40 |
[WP] You're a misunderstood necromancer, with a passion for dance. You resorted to necromancy because you could never find a crew passionate or flexible enough to match your choreography.
|
[Poem]
"Alright, crew it's time to train"
As the dead rose up again
My face was grey, black robes I donned
I said while waving around a wand.
"Can't we rest, we've trained for weeks"
"My flesh is peeling, my eyeball leaks!"
They waited patiently for a verdict.
"This contact's huge, you must be perfect! "
"What's the deal, who's the buyer?"
They asked as their arms reached up higher
"some big shot artist, I hear he's killer"
"some catchy new song, they call it Thriller"
|
"And a'one, and a'two, and a-"
A boned trumpet joined some snapping, then some more winds joined, too. They were playing "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller, and N'calphar of the North was doing his best to look the part of a jazzed gentlemen, circa 1942. His eyes shimmered beyond a Newsie cap, burned a toxic green culling from the void. He cocked a look through a dank cavern, spelling what be dead to rise at the drop of the first drum.
Before his captives, his cattle who had failed to thwart his plans for conquest, the sand welled with clamoring hands. When they crawled to the surface, they scoured the underdark in search of N'calphar's leading motions; by the crescendo, the necromancer was already doing an alley cat's jig, sliding, spinning against a spotlight like Chicago, the madman! He had been planning this routine for months; excitement lined his weathered pale face, ridging against the hole which showed off his smiling teeth. He flaired once more, pointing to the cavern in anticipation.
The music died. Much like Miller's breakout hit, what was dead would always have a second coming. N'calphar started to count. "And a'one, and a'two, and a-"
The necromancer's face contorted with a demon's scorn at his undead minions. His wicked hands grabbed the air and did a snapping motion. "T-shut it down. All wrong. All! wrong." He turned to the balconies of stalagmites with but one hobbled lackey with a hump back in attendance. With the thought alone, N'calphar teleported and now joined their view. "Dexter?"
"Yehs--Sire, O! me." Dexter had a slur; you can only gaft a tongue so well before you leave well enough alone.
N'calphar took a breath, hands cupping his slender waist and feet in fifth position. "Why aren't they in wardrobe? Studio 54 mixed with MJ's Thriller--C'mon queen, you're better than this!" Dexter flinched.
"O! me, I am mosth sorry, Sire. The underthlings keep shredding their suits! I will go to the Iron Maithen now ..." But N'calphar turned him aside by the shoulder, taking him steadily.
"That won't do, boo," he tsked. "That won't do." There was an absence in his endless stare, something that Dexter hadn't seen in millennia.
"What'hs wrong?" he dared ask. N'calphar sighed.
"I just ..." he sniffled, "This ain't me anymore!" he started to ball. "I've got all this magic touch, but nothing touches me more than dance!" Dexter patted with caution onto N'calphar's back twined with a hide of cursed thorns.
"There, there, Sire. It'sth never too late to try for the big thime."
With one last sniff, stars gleamed through the void; N'calphar glew: "You really mean it?"
"Of coursth I do," he said. N'calphar hoisted Dexter up as one would do backed by Celine Dion in Titanic.
"Baby," said N'calphar, looking to the cave's maximum. "We're going to Hollywood!"
"Hooray!" Dexter said with glee. "Maybe we should free the prisoners then?" N'calphar tsked again, softly.
He whispered, "Don't ruin the moment."
​
**N'calphar would take the world by storm (literally) with his Studio 54/Thriller Hybrid "Your Eyes in This Moonlight," amassing several nods in the theater community. He now lives out his days in Venice Beach with his dogs and minions of the undead.**
**Unfortunately, Dexter would fall into a life of drugs and overdose on the Santa Monica Pier. The N'calphar Theater holds a special ceremony yearly in honor of his work.**
| 2020-05-23T10:54:15 | 2020-05-23T09:16:41 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Being the Devil’s offspring means that you’re really good at persuasion. Things get awkward when the Devil finds out you’ve been using your power for good.
|
The people in the office started pulling at their ties, scrubbing paper towels across their brow, with said towels laden with sweat, and started complaining that somebody's BO was out of control. Looking around. I acknowledged the situation and perused myself to the stairwell. Time to face the music. At least I accomplished my goals.
As I reach the long unused stairwell, a roaring fire buffeted through until there was a suave looking man in a fire red suit, a checkered cloth in his suits front pocket, hair styled in a punk rock pink mohawk. With his 3 piece suit having a writing on the back saying burn2rebel.
"Well well well, if it isn't my little troublemaker." He grins. Grabbing my shoulders, his claws piercing through my human clothing "Do you have ANY idea what you have done? You've caused quite the termoil down below. To think! My son, persuading others to live in a plesant manner, cheating me out of countless souls. A veritable peace on earth! What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Um I don't know dad... I just didn't want to live in a dump." I rub the back of my head. "You have your kingdom. Grandpa has his, I just wanted something pleasant for myself."
"So you created peace on earth, Because you were tired of watching all the pain, suffering and anguish of others?" He looked at me, skeptically
"Um ya.." I looked down "It's just not really my scene..."
"I'm so proud of you!!" Patting my back embracing me "You created your own kingdom, for your own wants, rebelling against your own pa! A regular chip of the ol block aren't ya? You know what this means though right?"
My mouth hanging open, i stood there dumbly. This was... Not what I expected.
"Um no, no idea."
"Ha! You get to work with your grandpa to create the next universe, creating a set of rules for them to follow to get into your plane AND you did it before Jesus did! Ha! You beat my youngest bro! The 'perfect' one! muha!" With this, he breaks down holding his knees. "Now go, get to heaven you little trouble maker! Time for a new universe!" With which he grabs my collar, and in his most aggressive of voices yells "YEET!!" punching a hole in the fabric of the universe with a shape like my body, cartoon style, tossing me into heaven.
|
The moon shone through large bay windows as I watched Norasia's president walk back upstairs to his bedroom. Our conversation went as it usually does with world leaders. He demands to know what the hell I'm doing in his home, how I got past his guard detail, or who the hell I am. As usual, all I had to do was look into his eyes and smile. Within 5 minutes **he** thanked **me** and also made a call to the head of his armed forces commanding them to withdraw forces from Mesopindia. Another day, another man made disaster averted.
I got up from my seat at the kitchen counter and made my way back through the sunroom, past the dining room, and found a slim man in a charcoal suit, with piercing red eyes, 5 o clock shadow, and incredible hair sitting at the head of the dining table. My heart skipped a beat, but I didn't dare let the neutral expression on my face slip. So as taciturn as I could, I greeted him with a simple. "Dad."
He flashed his annoying know it all smile and returned the greeting. "Son...go ahead and take a seat." I obliged, sat down at the other end of the table, and studied him. It's been 50 years since I'd stormed out of the gates of hell and he hasn't once called, wrote, or sent so much as a demonic carrier pidgeon. He hadn't aged or changed a bit, in spite of the 50 years it had been I was pretty sure that his hair had stayed the exact same length. Go figures.
I finally couldn't take the silence anymore and my taciturn expression changed to one of annoyance. "Out with it already Dad, you know I hate it when you beat around the bush." I already knew what he was here for anyways, we were in the home of Norasia's president the eve a supposed massive attack.
"Do you know how easy it is to make humans turn on each other? You need only plant a tiny seed of one idea and they'll be blowing each other up in no time. Sometimes it even happens on accident. I'd start with convincing some horny general a taken women is the apple of his eye just for fun and all of a sudden an entire city burns. It is so easy, Nelson, that I tended to ease up on stirring the pot up here a bit for awhile. That is, until I noticed that Hell's intake has been decidedly light."
"They are fools, what else is new? I figured a lack of fresh souls would really piss you off, I didn't take into account how sloppy you've gotten. 50 years and you're just noticing? The demons on your payroll must have been sitting at their desks feet up and Netflix playing."
The Devil laid back in his chair and sighed. "So predictable you are Son. Of course I noticed that certain ambitious world leaders have had sudden changes of heart, nukes have been called off for no reason, peace talks have resumed et cetera." Dad pulled out a laptop and used his powers to duplicate his screen onto the wall adjacent to us. Images of beautiful art, humanitarian initiatives, all the inventions that benefitted the good of mankind in the last 50 years, man helping their fellow man filled the wall.
Lucifer continued, looking at the wall, "The thing I didn't count on was this. I figured you would try to get revenge on me by making eternally damned souls scarce. What I didn't realize is that you would develop a soft spot for these idiots. That you would convince nations to work together, inspire man to help fellow man"
I stammered, my face red with embarrassment, "I figured I should pull out all the stops, did-"
"No." He interrupted. "No it started as revenge but you truly care about what happens to them. Men are capable of evil, yes, but they are not so inherently. I'm sad that you've finally learned this, but I'm also happy Son."
My jaw nearly dropped straight down to hell itself, and all I could stammer out was the word, **"What?"**
Dad smiled at me, but it wasn't his usual one. He smiled at me with love and said "It means that you're ready Son, to join your grandfather."
"Grandpa? You hate Grandpa? You lead an entire rebellion against him? Do you not remember that?"
He laughed, "Maybe once I did hate him, but they call it my fall for a reason. I turned from Grandpa's love. I fell from grace. I'm not sure that I regret it, but sometimes when I focus I can still feel the remnants of Grandpa's love and I do miss it. My choice has been made long ago but yours is not and he can offer you more than I can."
I could not believe what I was hearing. For one thing my dad, the devil, actually gave a shit about me. For another thing he doesn't hate God. My mind raced, unable to settle on just one thought. My dad got up from his chair and pulled me into a fierce hug. We stayed like that for awhile, and when he pulled back I saw Grandpa waiting in the foyer. Dad gave me one more quick hug, and a gentle push towards the foyer. The man waiting for me in the foyer was older than Dad appeared. Perhaps about 60 with silver hair, a small belly, and smile wrinkles. He took my hands in his and I instantly felt warm and euphoric.
"I've been waiting to meet you a long time kiddo. From what I've been watching, you'll make a fine addition to the men and women upstairs, and we've been needing a new negotiator. Even angels get into arguments from time to time, and you seem quite convincing."
I turned and look back at my father, tears in his eyes he simply nodded his head and waved goodbye. Grandpa pulled me in close for a hug, one that somehow felt even better than my Dad's and we ascended towards the heavens.
| 2020-09-21T14:41:40 | 2020-09-21T14:28:06 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt
|
If I were to punch a person, the other party would feel pain.
Not a foreign cause and effect, by any means. If you were blessed with super strength, like Maximus, the end result would be the same. Run at the speed of sound like Sonic the Human, and plenty of pain will be tacked along with that punch.
I didn't quite have the energy or the passion of a typical superhero, that was true. But when it came to effectiveness, there was a reason I was the first name murmured by every set of lips. And especially when Maximus and Sonic the Human laid on the ground, eyes still wide open from the shell-shock of being returned to their normal selves... the murmurs turned to calls, and quickly to shouts and screams.
I stood in the middle of the ruined street. Street lamps laid on the ground, awry and bent. Car alarms blared and belched out black smoke, threatening to blaze at any moment. Glass shards littered the road and pavement, with various mannequins parts and displayed merchandise finding themselves dismembered on the streets.
"Yo," I called out. "Having fun?"
In a flash, Intake stood in front of me, a cheeky grin on his face. He was dressed in civilian attire today: a nondescript black hoodie over a grey t-shirt, blue jeans, and a cap, instead of his usual, gaudy red and white outfit with a gigantic I in the middle of his chest.
I sighed, realizing what had happened. I always told those idiots not to hold fan meet-and-greets. But no, the said, they were so powerful, that they couldn't possibly be ambushed in public. Intake must have stolen his powers under this guise, and taken out Maximus in the process.
"Finally!" he cried. "Woe himself."
"It is me," I shrugged my shoulders, right hand doing a little wave. "I'm here."
"Aww," Intake continued. "Am I not worthy enough for you to put on your costume?"
"Maybe," I admitted. "More like I was at therapy when I was called to the scene, you know?"
"... Superheroes go to therapy?"
"Don't knock it till you try it," I said. "We live in difficult times. There's nothing wrong with you if you seek help, you know?"
I lifted a fist in the air, preparing a signature swing.
"Though for you," I added. "I think you might just be too far gone as a piece of garbage."
I swore that I didn't blink. Even then, he was gone, immediately, and I felt a hand around my neck."
"You sanctimonious heroes," Intake shook his head. "Big words aplenty. But what can you say when your powers are gone?"
I could feel it draining away. And for the first time in forever, I found the beginnings of a smile lifting the corners of my mouth.
Super speed must have sped up his power absorption as well. Usually, Intake simply took too long to accomplish his task. Another reason to admonish Sonic the Human later, I suppose.
"What the hell?" Intake screamed.
He staggered back, falling onto his bottom unceremoniously. The villain tucked his head into his knees, curling up into a fetal position, and simply started crying.
"This... pain!"
"Oh, Woe is you," I said, shaking my exceptionally limber limbs. It likely wouldn't last long. Intake's consciousness would invariably shut down from the overwhelming pain that now flooded every muscle, every organ, every bone, every sinew, every nerve, every cell--a feeling I was well familiar with.
After all, I didn't have super strength or super speed. What I had was a lot of pain, easily and wilfully transmitted through a single touch.
A punch transmits pain. When it came to me, there was just a lot more to pour into a single fist.
It must have just been seconds. But I could feel it starting to return. I glanced towards Intake, who now laid crumpled on the ground, silent and unmoving.
"Woe is me," I sighed.
---
r/dexdrafts
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Echo was a dangerous villain. The Super Hero League’s first few attempts to capture him were catastrophic. He had broken into a top secret government lab, and we didnt know much about him at the time, but we did know what he was after. The controls to a government superweapon, capable of killing any person on the planet in a matter of minutes with an orbital proton laser. So we didnt mess around, and we sent our best, Captain Captain. Despite the silly name, he was the most powerful hero in the universe, capable of supersonic flight, incredible strength, speed and near invulnerability. We didnt expect there was any way Echo should be able to take him down. But Captain Captain met his match, a villain who had the same powers as him! Luckily, he was able to fight off the villain before he could get his hands on the weapon, but there was immense damage done to the surrounding area, and Echo escaped.
The next time Echo struck, Captain Captain was busy, so we sent three of our other commanders: Phantasm, Pyrouette, and BeastMaster. We didnt realize our mistake. Echo didnt have the same powers as Captain Captain, he had the ability to copy the powers of any super near him. He ordered BeastMaster’s wolves to back down, matched Pyrouette’s fire blasts and acrobatic skills, and used Phantasm’s intangibility to dodge every blow that might have caught him. Echo escaped again, this time with the launch codes to a nuclear submarine. We knew he was going to use them, and we knew that he would have to go to the government bunker beneath the Mount Rushmore to use them. We had to be ready.
“Hero League, this is RM-32, we have sighted suspicious activity around the entrance to Bravo Site.”
Captain Captain grimaced. “I guess Echo is making his move then. We can’t come to your aid or it may result in more damage than good. Can you take him down.”
The radio answered him “Sir, I wish we could, but we had to move some of our forces to the DC site to protect the POTUS, and the intruders have a veritable army with them. We can fight them off, but we cant guarantee Echo wont make it into the base if we mobilize to stop his troops.”
It was clear that Captain Captain was vexed. He didnt know how we could stop the villain. But I had a few ideas of my own.
“Sir, I would like to enlist the aid of Teleportia to transport me to the Bravo Site, I believe I can stop him.”
The captain only nodded and waved me off, clearly scrambling for something he could do. So I found Teleportia and brought her up to speed. “Now remember, you wont be able to stick around. Putting your power in Echo’s hands would be catastrophic. So just port me over the Bravo Site and drop me down. Ill take care of the rest.”
Teleportia did not approve: “Are you out of your mind?” She was screaming at me, and clearly did not want to comply with my request. “You’re one of our strongest heros! You cant give him your ability!”
I, however, knew something about my ability that no one else knew. And I knew I could take him down. "Look, you're just going to have to trust me. Captain already approved it." She clearly was not 100% on board, but agreed. She grabbed my hand, and off we went.
I hate teleporting. It makes me feel like I'm going to vomit, and it takes me a few minutes to recover every time. It doesn't bother Teleportia though. So when we appear in the sky above Mount Rushmore, falling quickly, she says only this: "I hope you know what you're doing." And off she goes, leaving me, half-ill, hurtling towards the ground.
I strike the ground with a crash, leaving a small crater at my impact point. Any human, even most supes would die after such a fall, but it barely phases me. My pain is far worse than any fall could inflict. Back to the task at hand though, by now, Echo is assuredly making his way into the vault. I lumber inside the blown open doors and see countless employees, either dead or unconscious, littering the floor. I don't have time to help them. I must stop Echo.
As I run through the corridors of Bravo Site, I know I need to make my way down to the bottom floor. When I open the door to the first stairwell, I am greeted by a myriad of goons, all armed to the teeth with automatic rifles.
"Hey guys, how are you doing? You must be new recruits! No guns past the lobby, you should have been briefed on this!" Echo's soldiers are not amused, and unload their clips on me. Waste of ammo of course, as the bullets crumple on my suit and fall to the ground. "So much for playing nice," I remark, as I beat several of them into the walls. Unfortunately, I don't have time to capture each of them, so I knock them all out and race back down.
I run into a few more goon squads along the way, but they pose no threat, and eventually, I arrive at a vault door that has been blasted open. Echo stands inside, hands at a console, trying to enter in the launch codes. I enter the vault and confront him.
"Well, well, well," Echo says, slow clapping for dramatic effect. "I would have thought you heros learned your lesson: That I am not to be trifled with. You know what I can do, and yet they sent one of their strongest, Steelclad, to stop me."
"I'm flattered you've heard of me," I tell Echo, bracing for a fight. "Now how about we step away from the console and handle this like men?"
"Why of course, I wouldn't want to be an ungrateful host after you traveled all this way," Echo retorts. "Now, Mr. Steelclad, let's see how your powers look on me," Echo giggles gleefully. He cracks his neck, and raises his fists.
He throws his first punch, directly at my face, which strikes solid steel. He yelps in pain, but of course, he was just testing my powers before taking them for his own. He winds up to throw another punch and then freezes.
"What the hell did you do to me?" He is frozen with his fist cocked and ready to fly, but his skin is now a metallic silver. Under his steel eye socket, a single tear rolls down his now metal face. "Why cant I control it? Why can't I move?"
Now the revelation comes: "Because neither can I, Echo. This power, if you can even call it that, is the worst pain imaginable. The only thing that makes it bearable for me is this suit, which I can control the temperature within to be so hot that it melts the steel encasing the rest of my body. That is the only way I can move. It's not pleasant, having your cells bonded together, is it? Having your bones grind against solid steel? This power is pure pain, and I wish I did not have to endure it. Lucky for you, you won't have to for much longer either."
I turn away from the steel statue and disable any damage Echo may have done on the console. Then I slap an anti-power boot on his ankle, and his steely body fades back into normal skin. I cuff him now, and walk him upstairs. As we reach the first stairwell, he says only this: "I'm sorry."
| 2020-12-02T09:23:54 | 2020-12-02T09:11:38 | 78 | 43 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt
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Watching through the window was heartbreaking. Once an impeccable specimen of evil, Mimic was now nothing but a broken shell. His muscle had wasted away so much that he was little more than a skeleton, his hair had long since left him, and his eyes were dark and glazed over. It was hard to believe that it’d only been 6 months since he’d drained you.
You reach out and press the intercom, alerting him to your presence. It takes him a while to turn his head, having next to no energy left is his dying body. You can’t help but wonder when the last time he had any human contact was? Being isolated like that must be taking its tool on him.
When he finally manages to speak it’s a slow and broken sentence, wheezed out in a rasping voice.
“Why....did....you..do........this......to............me?”
You place your hand on the glass. Despite all he’s done, all the suffering, all the death, you still feel sorry for him. What awaits him is something that you, quite literally, wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy. You try to explain that you didn’t do anything, that his own power sapped yours away.
“How....did........you....contain.....it? So....much...power. So..........much.............pain.”
His gaze isn’t filled with hate anymore. The anger is long gone, leaving only sorrow in it’s place. In the back of your mind you’re actually thankful for the twisted psychopath. He’s inadvertently freed you from a curse that you’d been carrying almost all your life. Now you can be normal, you can live as an average human, you can be free.
A buzzer near the door sounds, signalling the end of visiting hours. The guard that ushers you out sneers with contempt at the bed-bound figure locked in the isolation chamber. You can’t blame him. You give a final wave to Mimic, watching as he slips into an exhausted sleep. You’re the only one who knows what he’s going through.
Without knowledge and control, radiation is little more than poison.
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***GOO (Short story)***
Chapter One:
“The Gelatin! The Gelatin!” The people cry out my heroic name as I step through the masses to face the bank in which the tellers are being held hostage. “The Gelatin! The Gelatin!” Okay, I mean, my hero name sucks, but The Hero Association is the one that gives out names according to the powers a hero has, so you can’t blame me for that hideous lack of creativity. For quite some time after the decision for my name I was put out, always conscious of the snickers my horrible name brought from other heroes — until a realization struck me. A name meant nothing without the hero behind it. So even though both my name and power are laughably terrible, nonstop work has placed me in this position, lauded by all and one of the first choices of help to any disastrous situation. At first only a pile of goo that couldn’t move, I managed to learn how to control my transformation. Soon, I had learned a fair amount of tricks I could do with this strange ability — though I still couldn’t move as the goo. No matter, I had worked around it. Suck it, DeathMaw! You have a fricking mouth on your stomach, and you made fun of ME? Well, that’s all behind me now, and this bank is currently what’s in front, so it’s time to spy out the situation.
The wind ruffles my wavy red hair, which would look heroic if it wasn’t for the fact that I wear a light green spandex outfit to cover my body, and nothing else. This spandex may look ridiculous, but I wouldn’t part from it for anything in this world. With my good friend, the scientist Meca N. Ich’s help, this spandex has become the one thing between me and being naked the moment I use my power. Not only this, but while a bullet might cause me severe bruises, the spandex was unbending from the outside, something which had kept me alive — albeit rather busted up — over the years. I observe the bank, my years of experience giving me a good eye. *One front entrance, two back ones. All guarded*, *I assume.* The district’s City Guard Overwatcher walks toward me, her long black hair streaming behind her as she briskly approaches. *Man, can that woman make a uniform look good.* Not that I’d ever say anything to the kind to her. She stops directly in front of me, glowering black eyes and entire five-foot-three body bristling with anger.
“Gel”
“Maria”
“They have an insider on this one.”
“Of course they do. Because nothing can ever be simple for us”
She gives me a bitter smile. “We weren’t alerted about this until it was already over and they had their demands ready. They want three choppers, twenty million in untraceable credits, and to keep three hostages with them.”
“They seriously think we’ll give it to them? There is no way-”
“One of the hostages is the High Chancellor’s daughter.”
“Oh, so we’re definitely going to give it to them.”
“Not if you can stop it.”
“What’s the low-down?”
“Twenty-five highly trained DarkOps with full equipment.”
“Sonofa- they actually hired DarkOp mercenaries?”
“Clearly, this is something bigger, but we need to focus on what we can do now.” She motions to an aide, who rushes up with a blueprint map that details the bank’s architecture and insides. “Infrared scans show the girl is here” she points at one of the lower vaults, and draws a little circle. “They keep the vault opened for air, but will seal themselves in there if we cross a certain point.”
“‘If you screw us we screw you back’?”
“Exactly. So this is why you’re here. Can you make it back there without being noticed?”
I look at the blueprint, tracing the points with my fingers. “I think so. I need light strike forces of, say, three men, at every entrance, plus a couple snipers taking pot-shots. Three men… no, four. Send a Wolfpack.”
“Why not a Bull squad or Pheonix team?”
“You won’t actually be trying to get in — just attract their attention.” I point to a small panel, much too small for any kind of human to get through — except maybe The Rodent, but he’s over in the Eurasian Iles for a special mission this week — and so unguarded. “I’ll get through here, which leads right to the corridor of the vault in which the girl will be. Sound good?”
“Excellent, I’ll get a squad.” Maria grabbed her comm. “Give me three Wolfpacks and four solo Eagle-Eyes.” The comm crackled to life, and someone crisply answered, “Roger that, ma’am”.
She turned to me. “Don’t die in there.” A crack in her stony façade that only I’ve ever seen, over our ten years of teamwork.
I pout and give her a wink. “And here I was hoping to get shot in the face a bunch of times. Ugh, you wet blanket!”
She slaps my shoulder and grabs it. “I’m serious.”
My face darkens as well, and I give her a succinct nod. I turn to the bank and roll my shoulders. Time to get to work. *Maybe I can get home tonight in time to watch the first episode of Riverdale’s seventy-sixth season.* Somehow, I doubt that’ll be the case.
**(A/N: Next chapters in comments)**
| 2020-12-02T10:54:32 | 2020-12-02T10:37:43 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] At 18, your father finally gave you his antique Swiss watch. "The watch will stop working when you're seconds away from death. Live a good life", your father always told you. Now at 26, you're celebrating your 1st wedding anniversary. As your wife pours you a glass of wine, the watch stopped.
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They say when you’re breathing your last breath time goes slower. They say time stops, and you have an infinite moment to reflect on the life you lived one last time.
When I saw the hand on that damn watch pause I didn’t reflect on the good twenty six years I had lived up until this point. I didn’t remember how lovely my wife looked coming down the aisle on our wedding day, that humid sixth of march just one year earlier. I didn’t think of the pure bliss I’d felt when I accepted my first salary position. I didn’t even reflect on the sadness I had endured when my father died, or the honor I had felt when he had left me his treasured antique Swiss watch.
I did however, remember what he’d said about the watch. How he had taken me into his den and told me of the knowledge between the gears of it. How it would know my life was over moments before I did.
He had warned me to not waste my life away staring at the ticking hand. He feared the power of the clock would run my life completely and take away the precious moments that were constantly counting down.
I tried my best to honor his fears and live my life with my eyes away from the glass face on my wrist. But I was a man possessed and despite my best efforts the watch had stolen years away from my life, just as it had my father.
It had been a sore subject between my wife and I for years but it had never occured to me that it would be my demise. It had never occurred to me that she had reached her endpoint so many months ago. It didn’t even cross my mind when I had upgraded my life insurance policy, at the time I had thought it was my own idea.
If only I had lifted my eyes from the watch and seen her pour the wine, for if I had I would have seen what she had hidden in my glass. That clock would still be ticking. She didn’t need to hide because I was never looking. I didn’t even glance her way when the blood red liquid touched my lips. This was supposed to be our celebration, a full year since we had married. Instead, I was enthralled with my father’s watch, absent was the mind of the watching man. I stared down at it one final time and for once I saw what I spent my whole life fearing. That hand that had diligently ticked on for all these years finally came to a halt. In those final seconds before I died I looked up for the first time in our marriage. It didn’t matter if she lost me, she had lost me years ago, she had lost me the second my father left me that damn Swiss watch.
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This is kind of bad but I've been using writing prompts to improve my skills and fall back in love with writing so here goes nothing... enjoy :)
​
The warm lights of the front room shone down on her face light the glow of a halo. She was iridescent. The most beautiful woman in town. Ever since our first meeting in high school, she had been easily the most captivatingly gorgeous woman I could imagine. As I looked down at my watch, I remembered the words my father had spoken to me as he passed it down. "Son, this watch will work without fail until the moment before your death, only then will it stop." He had been right up until now, he had passed that watch into my possession on the morning of my 18th birthday, not once had I replaced the batteries until now. The night of my first wedding anniversary, aged 26. In that moment I looked over at my wife and wished that I would never see the hands fall still.
"Darling, what do you say we play that record tonight?" The soothing voice of my love came echoing around the room, running through my ears like silk. We'd been saving that record to play only on the most special occasions. I played it first on the evening I proposed, her smile had lit up the room as she told me she'd love me forever. Our wedding day was the second time, a year ago today, and I knew I would never tire of hearing her voice sing softly along to the words. "Of course honey, dance with me?" It was brave of me to ask, she hated to dance, but the look in her eyes spoke volumes as she nodded. We would do anything for each other, and tonight all I could ask for was love.
The soft melody of the tune enveloped us, drawing us in closer to each other with each note. As my hands caressed her waist, and her eyes bore into mine, everything else disappeared. Standing on her toes, she pressed her lips against my cheek and whispers softly. "Should we open a bottle of wine?" It wasn't often that we'd drink, but when we do, it's always a sweet Italian red wine. A smile crawled up onto my face, it felt infectious. I watched as she made her way into the kitchen, swaying her hips to the slow beat of the song that was still swirling around the house.
As she left my line of sight, I made my way over to the sofa. She'd be back any minute and if I knew her as well as I thought, and I did, I'd soon feel her fingers through my hair as she returned. Looking down at my watch, I heard the telltale clicking as the music faded into silence. Seconds later, I felt her presence behind me, then her fingers running through my hair as she giggled. *Called it.* She placed herself down in front of me, still glowing as she placed the glasses on the coffee table. With a grin, she started pouring our drinks, hers first and then mine. With the last drop of wine, Sarah's smile deafened the room, shutting out everything but the two of us. She could always create a moment to last a lifetime.
As I picked up the glass, the silence set in and I felt my heart skip a beat. Without a thought, I looked down at my watch. Nothing. What felt like hours passed as I realised the hands were no longer moving. The glistening red of the wine sparkled in the light, almost taunting me. *No... no, god, no, surely not... there's no way...* My heart caught in my throat as I looked back over the table, bright blue eyes staring back at me. I placed the glass slowly back onto the table, lifting myself off the sofa. The room spun before my eyes, the pounding of my heart deafening me now, the mockery of it suffocating me. "Darling do you have anything to tell me?" Her eyes widened and then her face fell, I'd never seen a more heart-breaking sight, but right now that wasn't my concern. I knew from what my father had told me that I'd have 5 minutes to change my fate, after that there's no saving me. "Do you have anything to tell me." This time I wasn't asking, I was demanding. "My watch, Sarah. It stopped." Now she knew I was serious, I hadn't used her name in months, I never did unless I was deathly serious. Her eyes pleaded with me, her voice ripping into my heart like poison. "I swear baby, I'd never- I love you more than anything!"
How had this night gone bad so quickly, how had everything good turned to acid, burning the memories scattered around this room? I'd drowned out her begging, pleading with me to understand, she'd "never lay a finger on me". If not her, then what? I have minutes to find out. Spinning around, I searched the room, looking down at my wrist every time I thought I'd found it. My breath caught in my throat as I saw it, in the back of the hallway. Him. Stood, staring down the barrel of the gun, pointed right at me. Without hesitation I reach out, grabbing my wife's arm and throwing her behind me. It happened in seconds. The click of the safety, the echoing bang. Silence.
They say your life flashes before your eyes, playing like a movie before you finally succumb and die. I saw it all, clear as day, meeting her, falling in love. I felt her lips on mine for the very first time, how my heart beat out of my chest. Her fingers lacing with mine as I swayed to the most beautiful song on earth, with the most beautiful woman. Hands running through my hair as we kiss, standing just in the doorway of our first home. And then I saw it, her radiant glow as she played the record, dancing in the living room. I knew in a second she was dancing for me, celebrating my life and everything we had. She'd been alone for a year and hadn't spent a day without my face crossing her mind. Forever in love.
| 2020-12-10T12:28:45 | 2020-12-10T11:22:32 | 36 | 24 |
[WP] Last names are assigned at birth by an oracle, and 90% of people find themselves in a related profession. For instance "Miller" or "Baker." Your last name, "World-Ender," has made life rather difficult.
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He turned to the stranger next to him. "World-Ender? What will people think? Will they judge me by this name and think I'm that I'm going to bring about the end of the world? That I'm going to usher in the demise of humanity as we know it? That name is going to label me forever as a monster! What will my friends assume about me? What will all my neighbors say?"
The stranger, nonplussed, shrugged his shoulders. "Well it could always be worse."
World-Ender nodded slowly. "I guess you're right Mr....sorry I didn't catch your name."
"It's Jeff. Jeff Dickinson."
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“How are you feeling, Kayneth?” That man, Mark with the role “Psychiatrist,” closed the door behind him and sat on the couch across from me. “My name is Mark. I’m here to listen to whatever you have to say.”
I met his gaze, my dead eyes speaking for themselves. He met my eyes without flinching. Eventually, out of respect for him, I broke eye contact. I was impressed that he was able to meet my harrowing eyes for so long.
The organization must have paid a lot to get such a dedicated and talented psychiatrist this time. This man was clearly different from the others.
Yet, I knew this was all a formality. Just like how pompous this room that they gave me was, all of the kindness and sympathy they showed me was all fake. In reality, they feared me, they hated me, and they were disgusted by my very existence.
I didn’t blame them. I hated myself more than anyone.
“Do I have another job tonight?” I asked, ignoring the doctor’s question and posing one of my own. “If so, we both know there’s no need to waste any more time with these games. Bring me the agent with the details.”
“What if I told you there wasn’t a job tonight, that I came of my own accord to check on your mental state?” Mark asked.
“Then leave,” I said, “I don’t care how devoted you are to your birth role, Mark, but continuing this discussion any further is utterly useless.” I laughed darkly, without emotion. “I’m just a tool after all, why would you bother trying to sympathize with a wrench or a hammer?”
“No matter what you say, at the end of the day you’re still a human,” Mark said, “Which is why I want to ask you, Kayneth, for what reason do you continue to serve the organization?”
“I don’t have a choice,” I said immediately, “With the cursed role I was born with, World-Ender, and the ability to cause a disaster of any scale at will, of course I never had a chance to live normally in the first place.”
“No, you do have a choice,” Mark said quietly, firmly, meeting my eyes, “While it’s true that when you were born, you were marked with a certain destiny, it’s equally true that when you were born with the freedom to live your life to the fullest in this world. Every human has that right.”
I paused, shocked at Mark’s words. Nobody had ever said that to me before.
“Do you realize what you’re saying?” I asked him, “You’re talking to a man who’s killed thousands of people with troublesome birth roles through ‘accidents.’ Do you really think I should walk away from my job and live a normal life just like that?”
“No,” Mark said, “You’re right. You’ll never be able to survive on your own. And even if you did, you wouldn’t have a mission or a purpose in life.”
Mark extended his hand.
“That’s why I want you to come with me. I’ve made my mission as a psychiatrist to save every person in the world ‘cursed’ with an undesirable birth role and help them find a way to live their life as a human. What do you say?”
Something strange came over me as I grasped the sincere meaning within his words. I felt ice seep down my spine and my heart rate increased.
Was this some emotion?
How refreshing. It made me feel alive.
“Just hypothetically speaking,” I said, “How would you use a power like mine?”
Mark smiled, his eyes unreadable, “Your power would be the key to everything. After all, I’m trying to overthrow a worldwide system of birth-role oppression. Doesn’t it sound like a job for you, World-Ender?”
___
Will write part 2 if there's enough interest!
If you enjoyed, visit r/WanderWilder for plenty of similar stories about heroes, powers, and more!
| 2021-06-19T18:31:32 | 2021-06-19T17:37:30 | 2,066 | 159 |
[WP] You are unarmed before an army, three limbs deep into death's door, with as much of a chance as a snowflake in hell, but you can't help but smile at this moment
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Gramesh looked down at the valley that stretched beneath him, teeming with the armies of Restiones. He saw banners of the smaller kingdoms, from the Usur planes to the Republic of Silver. It seems that the battle of Okenill and subsequent condemnation by the church of Nebo finally made him an enemy of the entire continent.
He was exhausted, badly hurt and angry. That last battle cost him a lot, including his war-pick which doubled as his walking cane. More importantly, the weapon was the key to enter his home, The Ebony Tower, aside from being a powerful and reliable tool. And yet...
And yet as he thought back to that fight, he couldn't help but smile. He landed a heavy blow to Lady Astra. That damn priest always did mean to much to her.
He reached into one of his component bags, and retrieved a few seeds. They were of an extremely rare plant, and he couldn't create more without access to his home. But, with what he had planned, there would be no need.
He put his left hand on his throat, and whispered a spell that would magnify his voice. All across the battlefield, the raspy, grating voice of Gramesh the Blind resonated. "Lady Astra! Take your armies and leave. I will only give one more warning after this." Short and to the point. She knows who he is and what's at stake. Either she's willing to sacrifice them all or she isn't.
Her voice resonates in a similar manner, though it's much younger, clearer and angrier. "I know you're blind, you old fool, but even you can't miss the army of eighty thousand standing before you! We will make you pay for what you did to Gaius!" She practically screams the last part. Stupid child. Gaius turned himself into a sacred Stiwad tree. Sure it was in his dying breaths, but he could've healed himself, rather than seal away Graneshe's Mistletoe. His left hand absent-mindedly tried to grasp it once again, and he scowled.
He spoke again, his voice rolling over the fields."Followers of Astra, Believers of Nebo and all others who are not part of Astra's party of heroes- if you wish to leave, begone. If you stay, you're an enemy of mine, and I will show no mercy. This is the last warning I'll give." With that, he stepped down from the hill, to get some sleep.
---------------------thirty minutes later--------------------.
Gramesh the Blind stood again at the top of the hill, and enhanced his voice. "Those who still remain, I have thrice given you warnings now, and thrice you've rejected my offer. By law of the Triumvirate, my obligations are fulfilled, and you are all now my enemies." Having said that, he crushed the seeds in his right palm. He dropped a single speck of blood from the back of his left hand and threw the seeds into the valley. He turned his back and climbed down the hill, listening to the sounds of emerging battle.
He smiled to himself. Mirror-poppies were odd plants. Their seeds had an energising effect in miniscule amounts, which became addictive in larger quantities. But growing them was hard, as they rejected water. They would only grow in the presence of the blood of sentient beings, and it would make the grow from seedling to pollen releasing black flowers in a single minute. The second strangeness about them was infact the pollen itself. Once it was released, a single flower could drive an entire city into maniacal slaughter. Gramesh smiled to himself, as he lay under the rising sun.
After all, he did warn them.
|
Before me stands the invading army, two hundred thousand soldiers strong. Not to mention all manner of beasts and war machines, the ability and function I can only guess at. By my side my loyal companions, a mere handful. They tend to my wound. They try to dissuade me from fighting. "Fall back", they say, "and live to fight another day". And behind me, the City that made us. From the dirtiest gutter to the highest tower, it props me up as much as the hands of my companions. Doom is all but certain.
I stretch my senses across the field that is to become a battlefield. Although it is not yet cursed in blood. The enemy's great captains are just preparing to attack while their men wait in the formed ranks. I sense the champions of the enemy. But nowhere do I sense the greatest enemy of all - the Poison Man. Perhaps he is hiding himself from me, preparing to strike. It barely matters now. The army is at our doorstep, the City in danger. Whether he is here or not, I must fight. If he is out there, I have as much of a chance as a snowflake in hell.
Yet I cannot help but smile at this moment. The air feels unusually fresh in my lungs - even though every breath drawn sends spikes of pain to my tired brain. I draw the magic around me into my body to feel my energy restored. My companions feel it too. Too much for them to handle. But they are loyal by Mark and bound to do what is best for me. They beg to be allowed to follow me. I refuse.
I understand their commitment. After all, I forged it. But they are not used to the war of magic. Though they sense it, they are only embers before my great inferno. And even though I do not say it, they tacitly understand. They would only be in my way. All or nothing.
With the Power returned to my limbs, I rise into the air. My companions shield their eyes - the glorious magic too much for them to behold. I feel invulnerable, and yet I am at my weakest and most threatened. Towards the enemy I must go.
Ten thousand arrows rise from the enemy positions. They are all targeted at me. They have prepared for a fight, it seems. I do not even bother waving my hands or speaking the words of Power. I do not bother sending the arrows back against the enemy soldiers. The arrows are simply beneath me. They vanish as they approach, with barely a thought on my behalf.
Ballistas and catapults whistle in the air as they join the continuous fire from the enemy archers. The catapult stones explode in the air around me - something I've never seen before. Now they have my attention. I reinforce the shield appropriately. Although they could not hope to hurt me seriously, I feel it would be an insult to my sense of self if they were allowed to draw blood.
I have crossed the distance to the enemy army. I see the whites in the eyes of their soldiers, far beneath me. Strangely, I feel called to grant them the mercy of battle. Though their pitiful lives mean nothing to me, their own lives mean everything to them. They know of magic, of course. But they've never seen one like me up close. I decide to land in their midst. Hundreds die from the impact.
They are well trained. They do not hesitate for even a moment as they charge at me. But my mercy has limits. It was enough to let them see me up close. There is no reason to allow them to think for even a second that they could touch me. The shield around me turns into invisible spikes striking out as they approach. Striking them from reality. Not turned to gore, not turned to dust - just removed. Thousands die by my hands.
A terrible roar shakes the shields and spears of the soldiers. They abandon the attack and fall to the ground in terror. A would-be challenger to my might approaches. Three golden dragons from another age, as large as houses. Who can say how the Poison Man ever managed to recruit them to his cause. The dragons are from the Old Time and I must be wary.
I snap my fingers in contempt and the neck of the first dragon is broken. It falls dead to the ground, crushing thousands more beneath it. The second dragon seizes the opportunity and flies around me, clawing at me, breathing its deadly fire. It is impotent but magic still - it sears my flesh that heals instantly. I wave my hand violently, striking the dragon with terrible force. Its guts and sinews, bones and brains turn into lethal missiles as they are launched outwards hitting tens of thousands of soldiers.
A cry of anguish from the last golden dragon shocks me for a moment. I sense in it a terrible loss, and more! That these are the last of its kind, and it is now the last alive. A soul shrieking at the madness of reality. As if to say "this is the death of the world's old masters". It flaps its mighty wings and soars into the air above me. Then it stops moving, and falls to its doom right on top of me. The impact is atrocious, the earth shakes and casts any living human still on the battlefield into the air. Thus passes the last great dragon. Like its brethren, it does not touch a hair on my head.
The enemy great captains know the day is lost but they order the assault anyway. Those soldiers who can stand up, they come at me shambling, still numb from the dragon's earthquake. Now I am beyond mercy, neither will I give them the honor of battle. I rise again and blanket the ground with terror and death.
In the span of thirty minutes, two hundred thousand soldiers who were alive now lay dead below me. Joined by the dragons and other monsters. None of them ever stood a chance. For the last five thousand years of history the universal truth of warfare has remained the same - it takes an archmage to defeat an archmage.
For every moment of the battle I waited for the Poison Man to strike. When the fires scorched my flesh would have been a perfect moment. And yet nothing. Where is the true enemy? What was the point of sacrificing his army if not to bait me into-
My mind is filled with fear as I turn around and look at the City in the distance. A terrible, green cloud has engulfed it entire. I send my mind out to assess the damage, find out where I can help. But in the grand City, not a single thing lives. I fall to my knees and cry tears, trying to express an emotion I believed beneath me.
Like me, the Poison Man did not care for his soldiers. Like me, he thought them currency to be used in the war of the archmages. He spent his currency to strike at me. His army was simply a price to pay to take that thing from me which I loved most. In all my might, bringing the City back to life was beyond even me.
The Poison Man has won the day. Made the better trade. Tomorrow the war will rage on, his position stronger than mine by far after this. Still, I cannot help but smile at the moment. Not for the millions dead, not for my companions who are now memories only. No, I smile at the thought of finally getting my hands around the Poison Man's neck.
There would be a reckoning.
| 2022-03-14T05:56:48 | 2022-03-14T05:45:43 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] It's the first week of Magic theory class. You've finally gotten to the basics of the subject. As your professor talks you notice something bothering you. You raise your hand and ask the proffesor about it. They blink and look at the board, then back at you. They ask you to stay after class.
|
"And as you can see, the mana balance between light and dark-aspected elements in the magic circle balances out in the first three seconds of inscription, preventing the production of antipodal spells above the second circle of sorcery." The engraved circle on the board sparked white and black and whirled together in bright darkness, until it rapidly dulled out and faded, the magic neutralizing entirely.
For the first time in the class, a thought struck me, and I stopped taking notes and raised my hand. "Professor Novae?" I asked.
"Yes! Any question you may have, I encourage you all to ask. You all have been far too quiet for such an advanced class!"
"Why is it a magic *circle*?" There was half-stifled laughter across the classroom. "Why aren't there magic squares, or magic... hexagons? Or whatever."
The laughter continued, and the professor silenced the class with a grand, chopping motion and a firm, even explosive "**Silence**!" As the professor's voice echoed through the room, the laughter died out, and the professor continued, "That is an excellent question! Exactly the kind of question I want asked in this theory class. You all are not here to learn magic, you already know magic. You are here to learn *how to* magic! Everything you will learn in this class originally came from when somebody asked a question like that. Often, a question people laughed at. Sometimes, a genuinely stupid question. Those are sometimes very, very good questions indeed."
By now, the class was quiet again, almost reverent, but that atmosphere would not last. "Unfortunately, your question was so good, that my response would take up far too much class time. I would like you to stay after class and discuss it with me." The class went back to stifled laughter, and the professor resumed the lesson.
An hour later, as the last students were filing out, the professor gestured to me. "What is your name, apprentice?"
"Tuulren," was my response. "Tuulren Wellfinder."
"Apprentice Wellfinder," The professor flicked a wrist, and a large, dull iron key thumped against my chest, landing on the floor before I could think to grab it. "That is the key to room 708 of the laboratory building. It is empty, it is shielded, and it is for the duration of this semester yours to experiment in. If you want to find out why no magic squares, then *make a magic square yourself*, and you will know why there are not. Or, you will learn how to make one."
"Uh..." I stuttered, kneeling to pick up the key, "Isn't just experimenting with magic like that... dangerous?"
The professor smiled. "Unimaginably so. If you do not show to your next class session on Thor's Day, I will assume you did something very wrong, and are dead, and I will tell the next apprentice who asks that trying to make a magic square will kill them. Additionally, you are not to mention anything you do or intend to do in that room to your friends or family - they are henceforth, state secrets. If you have findings, you may initially share them with faculty, and your grades will reflect your contribution."
"...Just my grades?" I asked. For risking my life, is the rest of the question I left unasked.
"Not just. But starting with. If you prove to have a talent for researching magic... it would be very valuable. You can do much in the world by putting your life on the line, if you have the drive. And with a question like that..." The professor smiled. "It really comes down to that drive. How badly you want to know the answer. The rewards are secondary. Do you *want* to write a magic square? Throw all of our understanding of the world for a loop, change what all the faculty teach in our classes?"
"Shit." I looked down at the key. I really did. And when I thought about it for a moment... I knew where I was going after dinner tonight.
|
Ms. Harion stared at me.
I stared at her.
The classroom had never been so quiet before.
"Atlas," she furrowed her brow. "I'm unsure what exactly you're asking, here..."
Whispers began to float around the classroom and I started to feel a bit of moisture around my temples.
"Uhh... never mind," I sunk into my seat.
"No," she said with a smile. "If you have a question, I'm sure someone else has the same question and they're just too scared to ask. Please, help me understand what you're missing. It's okay!"
I swallowed and slowly glanced behind me at the other kids. Their eyes were burning the back of my head as I turned back to the teacher and tried to reiterate my question.
"Y-you said that the color of magic usually indicates which elemental property it consists of..."
"Yes," she encouraged me.
I didn't want to ask it again, but we were already here.
"... How do I know what color a spell is?"
You'd think someone had walked through the door, slipped on a banana peel, and then farted when they hit the ground. The kids were laughing so hard that I couldn't even hear Ms. Harion's words as she attempted to restore order.
"HE DOESN'T KNOW COLORS!!" screamed one boy as the teacher began to raise her voice and threaten disciplinary action. I felt the tears coming and I knew that if I cried, it was all over for me at this school.
I instead opted to gather my things and make for the door. I heard the teacher calling after me, but I pretended not to hear her as I pushed the door open and closed it behind me. Even halfway down the hall, I could still hear the ruckus of the classroom. Honestly, it wasn't *that* funny.
I heard the door open and close, followed by the sounds of her high heels striking the tile as she followed me down the hall.
"Atlas, please, wait just a moment," she called after me.
I sighed shakily and stopped– I was obedient to a fault.
"Hey," she said softly, kneeling down to my level. She put her soft hand on my shoulder and turned me around to face her, "Atlas, it's alright. I... I don't even think they were laughing at *you*, they were laughing at something else."
"I d-don't understand," I whimpered, trying to hold it together.
"Would you be so kind as to see me after school?" she asked softly.
I sniffled, and wiped my nose with my sleeve, "Okay."
"Do your parents pick you up, or do you take the train?"
"My mom comes," I responded. "I don't h-have a dad..."
"Do me a favor and bring your mother with you," she instructed. "I won't make you come back to class, we conclude in about ten minutes anyway," she stood up. "But you should go wait at your next classroom and head in when the bell tolls."
"Okay," I nodded, still avoiding eye contact. "Thanks..."
x - - x - - ★ - - x - - x
"Mrs. Grimbrooke," the teacher shook hands with my mother. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course," she responded, folding her arms and glancing down at me. "Atlas hasn't done anything has he?"
"No, not at all," she smiled and shook her head. "He just asked me a... very interesting question during class today."
"Oh? Something you haven't already heard a hundred times?" she chuckled.
Ms. Harion shared a laugh with her before clarifying, "Well, yes, I would say so, actually. He asked me... how would you be able to tell which color a spell is?"
There was a pause.
"Atlas," my mother looked down at me. "Can you not tell which color a spell is?"
I swallowed and scanned the floor, "... no."
"Are spells... all one color?" Mrs. Harion asked next.
"No," I shook my head. "I can't see them."
"Colors?" asked my mother, kneeling next to me.
"Spells," I finally admitted as she ran a single hand through my hair. "I can't see spells."
My mother and my teacher exchanged concerned glances.
"Not even your own?" my mother pressed further. "Atlas, why didn't you tell me?"
"... I wasn't sure," I said softly. "But if they're supposed to have colors..."
"Mrs. Grimbrooke... if little Atlas can't *see* magic, then..."
"No," my mother shook her head.
"I'm not saying-"
"Whatever you're about to say," my mother cut her off. "The answer is no. We'll figure something out."
That night, dinner was quiet. She'd made my favorite in an attempt to cheer me up, which I *did* appreciate, but it didn't change the fact that I was laughed out of a classroom today.
"Atlas..." she broke the long silence. "I know things have been difficult, especially since your sister left."
"I don't get why she has to go to some faraway school," I grumbled as I poked at my macaroni.
"Well," she set her fork down. "Your sister is special... just like you. She has to go to a school where they know how to teach someone of her talents. Just like I'm sure you'll need special teaching too. You're both such special children."
"I'm not special," I said as my appetite suddenly left me. "I'm *different*. Leo is going to find out what happened today, and when he does..."
"I spoke to your principal about him," she interjected. "That boy won't be bothering you anymore."
"You said that the last three times," I scooted my chair out and left the table.
"Atlas," she called after me.
I closed myself off in my room and collapsed on my bed. I knew tomorrow was going to suck and before I knew it I was walking down to the Magi School next to my mother in complete silence. The wind blew the orange leaves across the walkway and they crunched under my feet as I made my way toward my doom.
"He won't bother you," she was the first to speak.
"He *will*," I squeaked.
In no time at all, we were standing in front of the school. I hugged her goodbye and she started back down the walkway. I heaved a heavy sigh and turned to see that he and his friends were already waiting for me on the front steps. Leo was bigger than the other kids, and it was easy to find him in any crowd.
I figured that maybe if I stood still, he wouldn't come to me.
I was wrong.
He started pushing through the crowd and I watched helplessly as the dreadful music that playing in my head swelled.
I was *dead.*
r/A15MinuteMythos
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/u3a4a2/wp_its_the_first_week_of_magic_theory_class_as/)
edit: This will probably be four or five parts. Sub if you're interested. If you're really enjoying the character and the world, check out my second novel [Of Oil & Sorcery: A Voice From the Void](https://www.reddit.com/r/A15MinuteMythos/comments/t8fr8n/of_oil_sorcery_a_voice_from_the_void/). The first draft is free on my subreddit for now, but I'll likely be taking it down once it's published. Thanks for reading <3
| 2022-04-13T19:14:13 | 2022-04-13T17:59:01 | 341 | 91 |
[WP] Soon after you die, you are approached by a deity who asks "so, did you enjoy your time in heaven?"
|
“Did you enjoy your time in heaven?” The voice didn’t really belong to anything.
“Wait – so Earth was heaven?” I had a slight headache, something I didn’t figure would exist after Earth was so far gone.
“Yes. Did you enjoy it?”
“I thought heaven was eternal, I only had 25 years.”
“You had a whole 25 years, which is more than so many get. Did you enjoy it?”
Why was this question so pressing? I thought. I thought of the dead end jobs. I thought of the time I scraped my knee. Zach’s death. I thought of the time I kissed my best-friend in the pouring rain in hopes that our lips locking would help her re-evaluate our friendship (it didn’t). I thought of the pitchers of beer. The nights spent crying over broken hearts and broken bones. I thought of the time we smoked pot in front of the police station. I thought of the pee-wee soccer games. The late night tennis matches. The coffee. The time we stood on the roof of the fraternity house and yelled into the warm summer night because nobody was listening. I thought of the cookies, the burgers, the hiking trails. I thought of the plane rides to far away escapes. I thought of the train rides to meet relative’s new graves. The waiting in lines. The slow dances. Road trips and carpools. I thought of the staples that got stuck in the stapler. I thought of the time I quit my job. The two weeks I was homeless. I thought of the drunken hook ups. I thought of my first kiss. My first crush. I thought of the time I cried on the bathroom floor when my grandma passed away. I thought of the homesickness at space camp. The Great Barrier Reef. My first taste of champagne. My first taste of real pain. I thought of the words that were left unspoken, and the ones that should have been. The last lie I ever spoke, and the first. I thought of the condoms filed away next to my tax returns and love letters. I thought about the love letters. The pick-up lines. The Robert Frost quotes. I thought of the time my roommate and I watched all the Tremors movies. I thought of the first time I woke up to the words “I love you.” I thought of the first time I woke up to the words “I love you” spoken in such a different voice. I thought of the afternoon naps and the snooze button. The text messages and the bruises. The misplaced sweatshirts – they probably had new owners already, but now all my sweatshirts were misplaced. Or, perhaps, they were in the right place all along. I thought of misplaced moments.
I looked up and said, “Yeah. It was fucking great, what’s next?”
<edit: formatting>
|
*I've been waiting around in this seemingly endless white room for what seems like eternity now, is this the afterlife? Man I was wrong about that. White suggests heaven though, which is a bonus, if I had believed in God I'd have sworn I'd be in a far hotter place right now...* I think to myself, after a period of complete mental blankness.
Then out of the corner of my eye I spot a figure approaching me.
*I could have sworn that wasn't there a moment ago, and where did they come from, the whiteness goes on forever!*
It's a woman, in a toga, she's hot too...and she has a clipboard?
"Hi, Martin right? Martin Chambers?" She says.
*She sounds European, can't say where exactly from though. I nod.*
"Great! So, did you enjoy your time in Heaven?" She asks.
"I'm sorry what? I just died, did I miss something?"
"Oh! My bad, all my fault, I missed something. Okay yes, says right here, died in 2014, I was just dealing with a 13th Millennial, you need bringing up. to. speed."
*She gives me a smile whilst clicking her pen, then after some kind of mental preparation she tucks the pen behind her left ear and looks up over the clipboard straight at me.*
"You're dead, you were in heaven, sorry if you thought this'd be heaven, the big guy wasn't trying to trick you, it was for the good of mankind. And don't worry, things aren't so bad here! There's no death, which is a plus... Uhm."
*Obviously this hasn't helped, I'm still kind of at a loss. I think she gets that from my slightly open mouth, and the silence, the awkward, awkward silence.*
"Let me start again. Hi, I'm Nyx, former primordial goddess of night, pleased to meet you. You were a mortal servant of the all-father tasked with innocently creating the kingdom of heaven on earth. You're now in the afterlife, a place outside of creation where your knowledge and abilities will be used as part of the administration of all creation, much in the same way that I was when I... existed. Crap I sound like the orientation video... I wish we still had that... "
*My mouth is somewhat more open now.*
"Question..."
"Shoot!"
"I was led to believe that heaven was what came after my death, or maybe hell."
"Common question... not that it's a bad one! Uhm, right yes, well that may have been a little white lie propagated amongst most of Earth's population across it's formative years... centuries... millennia. Uh... you see Earth... creation is a work in progress, it'll be perfect eventually but the creator had to sacrifice part of itself to make existence, to make you, and it needs its all to perfect it, so it kinda had to make itself in a way. You following? The lie built in about heaven is simply a reward system, and equally hell is a threat. It's there to promote work towards perfecting creation, toward making something you'd recognise as heaven on Earth."
*I cannot believe what I'm hearing, then again I'm standing on an endless white plane, I always thought I'd do the rational thing and give up on atheism the moment I personally experienced such a phenomena.*
"Okay so I guess I'm pretty much at square one on the afterlife thing, and I'm gunna have to ask... what happens now?"
"Good reaction! You know, sometimes I get criers, or shouters. Curiosity is good! Now we process you, which you know we've been doing your whole life really, but now it's the last little bit. We'll figure out, with your consent, what you're best at and slot you into an administrative job here in the nether so that you can do your bit to make creation perfect. Of course you're part of the 'secret' now (*she even made little quote marks in the air, almost dropping the clipboard in the process*) so your work is only going to consist of figuring out how to prod humanity in the right direction, instead of actually getting your hands dirty as it were, but nonetheless it's all important work. Oh and don't worry, you won't get bored, that was largely a biological effect, plus time doesn't quite flow straight out here... I'm so glad we still have the orientation video for that mess."
*She paused briefly, looking at me as if to see if I was still following. I smiled, not quite knowing what to say, something in me told me everything was going to be okay though. I think I'm relieved, she was offering me a job, but truly it feels like I'm retiring.*
"Right... says here you liked WW2 films, maybe we'll place you in the 'Hitler was right' department?"
*My mouth practically drops to the floor.*
"I'm kidding! Some people say my humour can get a little... dark. But you should meet Adolf sometime, he devised our perfection progress counter, measures a human's moral worth and how much they contributed to achieving our goals, and in turn an individual's likeness to the creator itself! I think it was a guilt thing... You got a 0.8... hmmm seems to be missing the power, you can't actually have scored that high. You have any major achievements in life Marty? I hope I can call you Marty?"
"Uhh sure, and not that I know of, my Pa always used to say the greatest thing I ever did was get a donor card."
"Spot on! Wow Marty turns out your organs provided the basis for recyclable stem cell research, organ replacement, cancer treatments, the whole lot. You're a pretty big deal! For a guy who drank himself to death... wow says here your liver was the particular organ that changed everything, good job Marty!"
*This Nyx lady literally could not be more over excited about my pickled liver.*
"Yeah, don't suppose I could get a drink right now could I?"
"Hah! And a sense of humour too! You're going to go far Marty."
*I wasn't joking.*
EDIT: Thanks for the comments everyone! This means a lot, massive boost to my writing confidence :)
| 2014-07-18T07:18:20 | 2014-07-18T06:38:47 | 852 | 563 |
[WP] "What the hell do you mean you 'overclocked a sloth'?"
|
“What the hell do you mean you “overclocked a sloth”?”
“You’re familiar with the normal, everyday run-of-the-mill sloths that we've been working with, right?”
“Of course.”
“Well it’s like that, but more so.”
“So it is still a sloth.”
“Well yeah. We didn’t alter its DNA or crossbreed it, or anything along those lines. So genetically, it is still a sloth."
“But, more so.”
“Exactly.”
“You realize that makes absolutely no sense, right?”
“Okay, look. Let's say that you have a normal sloth, we’ll call it Subject A – are you with me?”
“Yes.”
“Then we have our sloth, which has been overclocked, which we will call Subject B.”
“Okay.”
“Where Subject A is your typical sloth in every conceivable fashion, Subject B is now over 800% Slothier.”
“Slothier.”
“By 800%, at least.”
“SLOTHIER ISN'T A REAL WORD.”
“It is now.”
“Look. You can’t just keep me out of my own lab by standing there and acting as if you achieved something monumental without a real, scientific explanation behind what you did to “overclock” the sloth. So please tell me; what *exactly* did you do?”
“We presented subject B with a cocktail of vitamins and enzymes that have elevated heart-rate, awareness, and energy levels exponentially.”
“By 800%.”
“At least.”
“And that’s why I can’t go into my own goddamn lab.”
“We’re currently monitoring the situation. Introducing you into the environment would skew our study. We couldn’t have predicted this outcome and we’re not sure what to expect. It’s for your own safety.”
“What was in the cocktail?”
“What?”
“What. Was in. The cocktail.”
“Specifically?”
“Yes. Specifically.”
“Um…well…glucuronic acid…L-Phenylalanine, a touch of pyridoxine hydrochloride…….niacinamide….”
“Niacinamide.”
“….yeah.”
“So what you’re saying is, you gave one of the sloths a Red Bull.”
“Tom did, yeah. Like a whole can.”
“And now it is slothier.”
“Dude, yeah. Like way more. I mean, to be honest? That thing is going absolutely ape-shit in there.”
“Goddamnit Ted.”
"Yeah, so um...you know; I wouldn't go in just yet."
|
"Wait wait wait, hang on John," my oldest friend Daniel said, laughing at my worried expression. "You said you did what?"
"I tried that new chip we got in last week, y'know the one that hasn't exactly been cleared for use," I said, my hands shaking violently at my sides, looking around trough bloodshot eyes, as if some men in black suits and earpieces would turn a corner and take me to a dark room for what I did.
"And you put it in a what?" Daniel laughed, still not convinced of the seriousness of the situation I had caused, I had to show him what happened.
"Follow me, quickly" I said in a shaky voice, motioning for him to follow. We walked the long white halls of "the institute" as the government had chosen to call it. As we approached my office I stopped before opening the door, looked around and put my ear to the door. I listened, searching the room for any unfamiliar sound. Nothing, it was safe.
I struggled to fit my security card into it's slot, my hands suffering from half an anxiety attack. I quickly swung the door open, let Daniel and myself inside, and shut it even quicker. Inside I took a swig of whiskey from the bottle I kept in my bottom drawer, it went down smooth. It was good whiskey, meant for a celebration, not some foolish mistake to be artificially softened in the mind of the idiot who was at fault. But still I drank, as if I had a thirst for something that existed in the bottom of that bottle.
"Slow down bud, that stuff's firewater," Daniel warned, but he didn't understand. "Tell me what's going on."
"Okay, you know how we've been working on those experimental mind control chips?"
"Yeah, but we aren't supposed to discuss our work with other-"
"I know, Daniel, very well" I interrupted. "I took that new chip, you know the one that came from the military a couple of weeks ago? I heard rumours that it was the most powerful one we got yet. Wilson said it came from some drone, a project that the military abandoned. It got too smart for it's own good."
"What's this got to do with anything John? We've all heard the stories about that new chip."
"Okay," I said breathing in, my lungs whistling from all the chain smoking I'd been doing the last few days. "Wilson said that he was going to get the chip, and I just couldn't allow that... that sack of shit to get his hands on military grade equipment, I deserve that, not him!"
"What did you do John?" Daniel looked more worried now, his eyes were looking for an answer in mine.
"I stole the chip," I said with a dead eyed stare.
"And you put it in an animal? A sloth?"
"Yeah..."
I looked at my hands, the room was silent as the dead, I didn't want to meet John's gaze. I was foolish, pride had overruled my usual rational mind, and I knew it.
"So what happened?"
John spoke softly, breaking the silence of the room, cutting it with a hot knife, suddenly realising the implications of what my actions carried.
"It had the surgery last night, it was a huge success John, you should've seen the results, they were astonishing to say the least, total control over another creatures mind, at least at first."
"But what happened?!" John shouted, breaking my pride in what I had done.
"What I didn't know was that the chip still had it's original programming, the drones' objectives were still present in the chip, but I didn't know that right away. It was a sloth y'know, slow, stupid. So I..." I stuttered, struggling to say the words out loud, "I gave it a 200cc shot of the accelerant you developed last week."
"Jesus, John. 200cc's? You should've at the fucking least consulted me first! That stuff is still in the experimental phase! What the fuck were you thinking?!"
"I was just thinking about the science, Daniel, that's all, not the consequences, we almost never think of the consequences, do we?"
"No," Daniel admitted. It was silent for a minute as we both absorbed the situation. John continued, "So what we have is a supercharged sloth with the bloodthirst, intelligence and learning skills of a canceled military drone experiment..."
"Yes," I said, simultaneously proud and disgusted by my work.
"So where is it?" John enquired, his attention suddenly in the present.
"It escaped, but it hasn't left the building, I've set up a perimeter breach detection system using the buildings security."
"So where is it?"
"I don't know," I whispered, "I think it's fucking around in the ventilation ducts and ceiling. It basically has complete access to any part of the building."
"But it hasn't done anything?" John asked, a frown disguising his usually cheerful face.
"Not yet, it's busy with recon, it's studying us, learning our strengths and weaknesses. It's not long now, it'll start eliminating targets soon."
"Wait, what... what *targets*?"
"Us John, we are the targets, humans are the target."
The wind blew outside my office window, it was a beautiful day, birds were peacefully chirping in a tree not far from the building, young children were playing in a park across the road.
A sudden siren shattered my minds peace, the lights all went dark, I sat back in my chair, John sprang up and walked back until he bumped into my desk, his eyes locked on the door. We heard shouts, cries, agony, even a few gunshots... and then, silence, complete silence. A pool of blood had obviously collected outside my door, the blood flowed into my office through the gap beneath the door. The doorhandle suddenly rattled, jerking violently, and then a soft click. The door slowly swung open, the dark hallway lay beyond... two eyes shone like jewels in the dark hallway. We both looked on, our hearts beating faster by the second...
Fin.
| 2015-03-19T07:14:06 | 2015-03-19T01:09:58 | 44 | 11 |
[WP] Everyone has powers locked within them. Each power is different, and the longer it takes for a power to manifest, the greater it is. A 100 year old man is being hunted by the government for still being powerless.
EDIT: Thanks for all the replies everyone, I had fun reading all of them.
|
My first prompt here!
We did it. We finally captured him. Heh, he thought he could run away from us forever. Fool. We could never let go an opportunity like this one. The boys are running some tests right now, it shouldn't take long...
"Sir, the results are out. You are not going to like this."
"What happened?"
"His power is already unlocked."
"That's impossible."
"Here are the results."
A single sentence stood out in the middle of the sheet:
"The power to dissapoint."
|
It's been ten years since the last "big" one, Jean-Paul Arseneau. Marseille is still uninhabitable after what happened. Jean-Paul doesn't exist anymore, but neither does Marseille. After the events in Marseille, the UN developed a unit of special forces to combat further incidents like this. They are the worlds greatest trackers. The greatest hunters. The greatest killers. The world knows them as *The Shadows*.
__________________
"ETA 15 minutes, Major," said the pilot.
"Good, the sooner the better." said Brady as he read his intel file.
The file is of Leonard Dwyer. The 100 year old powerless man. He is the world's most sought man. The most hunted man.
Dwyer left the States after the events of Marseille. He knew a witch hunt would follow, and he was right. Every country has a file on him. The US has a fifty million dollar bounty for his head. The KGB want to capture him and weaponize his power. The Chinese, you don't even what to know what they are trying to do.
He is the biggest threat to the world.
__________________
"Welcome to Namibia, Major,"
"Yeah fuck this hellhole of a place, Shadinsky. Lets get in, apprehend him, and get out of here."
"Call me Shade, sir."
"Why the fuck would I call you that?"
Right at that moment, Shade shows Major his power. The major forgot that, these people with him are the world's greatest hunters. They were hand picked for a reason.
"Active camo, heh. Shade it is then. Enough about you, where's our target?"
"He's-"
"No, I know exactly where he is. three kilometers north of here, heading east northeast.
"How...How do you know that?"
"We all have powers," said the Major, grinning like a child. "Lets get this show started, Shadinsky."
__________________
They found tracks pretty quickly. It wasn't long until they were right on his tail. Major noticed something though. Something odd. The sand dunes that they were walking on had vegetation growth, particularly where Dwyer has stepped.
"Abort mission." said Major.
"Sir, he's right there! Why are we aborting?!"
"He's not mankind's worst threat. He's mankind's biggest hope."
"We've been looking for him for ten years. He's part of the reason *The Shadows* exists! We've come too far to let him walk!" Shadinsky said, determined.
"Shadinsky, stand down damnit! I know what you're thinking. Don't fucking do it!"
Shadinsky took off after Dwyer. He climbed over the next sand dune and then paused. He couldn't believe what he saw. It was paradise. That was the the last thing he ever saw. Major pulled the trigger, and down the body tumbled. Major knew that Shadinsky saw wouldn't change anything. He still had the thought in his head.
Major slowly, calmly approached the old man. He could see the fear in Dwyer's eyes.
"Here, take this" as he hands him the rifle that killed Shadinsky. "I mean no harm. I'm going to answer every question you have in your head."
"Ok." said Dwyer, fearfully.
"Yes, we are part of *The Shadows*. No, I'm not going to kill you. Why not? Because you have the greatest power. You can bring life to where it is not. You can end famine, deforestation, climate change. How are we going to clear your name? Well, do you see that guy who was about to kill you? I'm going to take his body and move it a kilometer away. Then I will call an airstrike for that particular coordinate. How would I justify not coming back with him? Easy. He can turn invisible. I'll say he went AWOL. Any questions?"
Nope."
"Ok. I'm leaving now. Oh, and Dwyer, don't try to fucking shoot me as I'm walking away. Because I'll know."
| 2015-10-26T12:10:03 | 2015-10-26T11:22:04 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
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Dear dad,
I fucking miss you. You died too quickly and I never got to hear your last words. I know though, I know you'd tell me you're proud of me and that you love me. I know this, but goddammit, i wish I could have heard you say it. I'll be the man you always knew I could be. I promise you that, and i will continue to promise that until the day my time comes as well.
I love you, pops.
|
Dear you,
I've always meant to write this letter to you, but I was never able to really put it all together. We've gone through a lot together, to say the least.
I guess I just wanted to say thank you, for everything. For your generosity, for your openness, your pride, your confidence. I truly admire you as a person.
In this world, there are many different types of people. I always believed in a world of people who truly want the best for others. Before I learned that I was a little naive, I believed in a world that lived together. As humans placed here on this planet together, with the best, the shining examples of our race claiming brotherhood and kindness for all, how could one not believe them?
This isn't the truth. Quite the opposite in fact.
People are hateful and selfish. They will lie and cheat and steal just to better their own situation. The entire world is drowning in themselves, and the worst will climb to the top by pushing your head under the water to keep themselves above the surface. It's easy to succumb to those who are only here to ruin you. You know that better than most.
You know, but you never embraced that thought.
Of all the adversity you faced from the first day of your life, you could have blamed your troubles on the unfairness of the world. You could have closed yourself off from the world and never taken responsibility for the life you were given, but you didn't.
As much as you struggled, as much as you had to fight, giving up was never an option to you. You've always known inherently that the problem wasn't with you, it was with the world. It was the defining characteristic of your personality. You looked at everyone that ever doubted who you were and knew in your heart that they were wrong. While everyone was busy tearing each other down, you built yourself. You built the person that everyone is envious of.
You have always known that you love yourself. It's the source of the world's envy.
It's why I love you.
Some souls are chosen from birth to face the awful side of the world because they are stronger than others.
I just want to thank you for creating something beautiful with the adversity that nature posed against you. For creating you.
I also wanted to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't as strong as you.
I should've stood beside you. I should've taken a stand. I should have done so many things for you that I was never capable.
But when I found myself,
When I realized who you were,
When I was finally able to stand with you against the opposition,
When I believed in us,
You never even considered if I was worthy.
I am a vengeful person. I remember every one of the persons in my life that ever mistreated me, but when I came to your door looking for what you had all along, you had forgotten I ever wronged you. That's why you're the greater person than I. I thought you would remember the worst of me, the part of myself I can't leave behind. But you didn't.
On the contrary you opened yourself to me. You're so closely guarded... you have a right to be too, but you let me in. From the first day you let me in. The side of you that so few see, you let me in so easily. You saw more in me. More than I believe I deserved. It's why we are what we are to each other.
From my experience with the world, people are hateful and selfish... but a person? A person is kind. A person is generous. A person is forgiving.
That's who you are.
From my experience with the world, there is a reason there are so few great people. From the hate we experience, the anger, the worthlessness others feel that is thrown onto us, only the few great rise above it all.
Only few recognize the truth in the world. I recognized you. You recognized me.
Thank you, again.
Sincerely, me
| 2015-12-05T15:43:07 | 2015-12-05T15:18:49 | 45 | 18 |
[WP] You're a ferocious demon king. You're surprised one day to find that a young woman has been left at your door. Only to later find out her father, the king, is using you as bait to find a knight worthy of marrying his daughter.
|
The thick wooden doors to the throne room were charred and splintered, they were broken inward with the force of a powerful magical explosion. Past the doors were several inhuman bodies strewn about and bleeding various shades of green onto the hardwood floors. A powerful figure pulled his sword from a now limp goblin and began slowly stomping his way down the length of the room. He flicked his blade back into the ready position, eyes locked on the towering creature that leaned back in his seat and passively drank from a wine goblet. The princess was sat on the floor with a metal collar around her neck and a bruise on her cheek.
"What is your name?" The Demon King's voice echoed down as the hero stood at the bottom of several steps leading up.
"I am sir Herald The Bold, first of my name. I've come for the princess." Hatred boiled in his voice.
"Herald the Bold..." the Demon King savored the words and rubbed his chin in contemplation. "I'll be sure to seek out your family once you've been disposed of."
Hatred snapped into rage and the knight bolted up the steps towards his enemy. If level heads prevailed, he might have noticed the archers in the upper tier behind him taking aim. A clatter of metal on stone rang out as he fell down the steps. The heroes never expect the archers.
"The hell is this shit?" the princess shouted as the hero's body settled at the base of the steps. She pulled herself to her feet and unlatched the metal collar. "You got to stop using the archers, Kilgar!"
"And your dad's got to stop sending sociopaths to kill my people." Kilgar the Demon King placed the wine goblet down on the armrest of his throne and stood. Inhuman forms entered through the side doors and set to work collecting the bodies. "His name was Herald the Bold, see to it his family gets the body." he called down to them.
"It's been two years!" the princes continued. "I would have settled for one of the rag-tag bands of misfits we got early on, it doesn't *need* to be a paragon of justice!" Kilgar offered her a hand and politely lead her down the steps.
They've had this discussion before, several times. She wanted him to stop using archers, or use fewer soldiers, or to leave the throne room open. He'd explained several times that the archers would stand down if the hero actually seemed noble, that the soldiers are terminally ill veterans that volunteered for the rouse, and that the doors have always been unbarred. Then he would mention the metal collar she wears, and she would get defensive about how weird it would look if she just stood there unrestricted, and then things would go in circles from there. The two of them went through the motions of their debate as Kilgar lead Princes Conquest back to the dining hall to continue their meal.
"By the way, I've been meaning to ask about the cheek," the Demon King said softly as he sat at the head of the table.
"I decided to take your son's offer up and attend his sparring practice." She said with a poorly hidden smile.
The Demon King smirked and settled into his decision. The human king's missive said that any who could safely escort his daughter back may have her hand in marriage, it said nothing about if it could be the demon king's own son.
|
"I'm bored!"
That same exasperated outcry echoed through the seemingly deserted castle day after day, always around noon without fail. Sighing deeply, I lean forwards in my throne and clear my throat. "Garrote!" I call.
Light thumping slowly makes its way down the overly complex arches supporting the roof, accompanied by the slightest hint of wire sliding around. Within moments, a thin gray man drops almost to the floor in front of me, his body twitching as it's caught just above the ground by a thin steel wire. "Sire, you called?" Garrote asked, his mouth barely moving as a thin trail of pus hung at its edges.
"You were told to keep the lady entertained," I said, my annoyance clear as day. Despite my tone and expression, there was no anger behind it. If anything, I sounded exhausted.
Garrote simply croaked once, knowing this familiar song and dance after weeks of repetition. "The Princess Lucinda has grown familiar with the castle and even us, your humble servants..." Garrote droned.
"She still refuses to read the books?" I asked.
"She claims to have read them all, sire," Garrote said. "If I may offer a suggestion... perhaps we give her some work? She's shown an interesting... flair for design."
"Garrote, remember what I told you about changing the castle? The abandoned appearance unsettles would be intruders that know we're here or lulls the foolish into a flase sense of security, making them prone to mistakes we can capitalize on," I said. "If the castle looks properly maintained, then whoever enters will expect inhabitants. That puts them on guard, and takes away the element of surprise."
"... But sire, her designs intend to add onto the abandoned charm," Garrote said. His head flopped to the side, eyes rolling back as he seemed lost in thought. "... How did she put it? Something about making use of the vast empty spaces... oh, and a lack of traps."
"A lack of...? We have a moat and walls, spiked gates we can crush enemies with, and the entire dungeon is filled with traps we've taken from lost hunters," I protested.
"That's true and all, but... sire, perhaps you should listen to what she has to say. Some of her designs are quite appealing," Garrote said.
"... Very well, then," I said, rising from my throne. "If it were anyone but you, Garrote, I'd have thrown you in the dungeons for years, taking that tone with me. This better be good."
Walking through a series of winding hallways and climbing a stairwell that was almost maze-like in structure, I reached the only part of the castle that looked remotely inhabitable. The library was in perfect condition, complete with working lights and massive windows lined by ornate curtains. If not for the monstrous figure standing in front of the open door, it would have appeared completely normal.
The abnormal figure, a gangly ghoul whose upper body split into separate pieces, saluted with both sides turning to face me, though both faces were obscured by bandages around the eyes and a small straw hat blocking their hair. "Koshi, Roshi," I greeted, the one wielding a jagged curved sword ending its salute before the one holding a thin club with metal beads lining its upper portion.
"Lord Alciel," they replied, turning back to face opposite directions and revealing the two crossbows mounted onto their backs.
"That Princess has got some lungs on her, eh?" Roshi said.
"Sorry about that. Petyr's trying to calm her down, but I think he's getting desperate," Koshi said.
"It's fine. I'll deal with her today," I said, passing by the duo. Glancing past the first few bookshelves towards the main reading area, my eyes twitch at the sight left for me to see.
The young Princess Lucinda is laying upside down on a chair, tapping the back of her feet against the headrest in time with one skeleton beating another with its own leg. While appeasing for a time, the show quickly loses its charm as a disinterested look crosses her face. Reacting to this, Petyr, a Lich wearing a massive black cloak and golden pointed shoes,, rubs his fingers together. Instantly, the skeleton bekng beat seems to receive a spark of energy, rolling aside to avoid the next blow and swiping wildly to knock it's opponent flat on its ass. The two begin a frantic tussle on the ground, heads being slammed into the floor one after the other as the battle intensifies.
Despite the battle growing ever fiercer, Lucinda turns her attention to me, messy black hair hanging almost down to the floor. "Oh, look. It's the saddest excuse for a host I've ever had the displeasure of knowing," Lucinda said.
"Here to greet the most ungrateful captive to sully these halls," I sneer. "Petyr, enough. You've better uses for your magic. I'll handle her today."
"Oh, thank my non-existent gods," Petyr sighed, the skeletons suddenly crumpling into a heap of bones. "Be careful, sire; there's no pleasing teenagers. 'Where's the blood? Show's no fun if they don't bleed!' Seriously, what's wrong with humans at this age?"
"If I wanted to see things bang into each other for no reason, I'd go hit a rock with a stick!" Lucinda taunted. Petyr audibly growled, a thin black smoke trailing from his hood for a few moments before he sank into his own shadow, leaving us alone for the time being. "I want a different show... How often does that spider lady catch people? Can I see when she does?"
"... Garrote, you might be on to something," I mutter before clearing my throat. "No, you aren't getting a show. In fact, given how well you're being treated, I think you need to start giving back. To put it simply... we deserve something from you."
"Ugh, creep. If that's what you want, I'll sit in a dungeon all day and quiet down," Lucinda said. She sighed. "Man, are all the men my dad sends this useless?"
"... Wait, what?" I ask.
"You had some knights or whatever come try to break in, right?" Lucinda said. I nodded. "And you haven't put two and two together? Princess shows up alone at your doorstep one day, you capture her, and then for some reason, people are trying to rescue me without so much as a ransom declaration on your end?"
"... Huh," I say, crossing my arms. "Now that I think about it, we have had a lot of attention for just raiding some frontier villages..."
| 2017-10-06T10:01:24 | 2017-10-06T09:53:44 | 201 | 54 |
[WP] You are extremely famous. Everyone knows who you are. The only thing is, you don't know why you're so famous. You don't come from a rich family and you're unemployed. You don't even remember how you got a mansion or a Lamborghini. Even stranger, everybody looks so scared when you bring it up.
|
"I don't understand."
"It's like when you can move stuff around with your mind."
"Telepathy, yes! What I mean is, I don't understand what that has to do with me? Surely I would know if I had telepathic powers."
"Not if the part of your brain that controls telepathy was being suppressed."
"Wait, what? You're "suppressing" my brain?"
"Well, that's an oversimplification. It's just a small part of your brain. A little less than a third of your hippocampus, actually."
"What the fuck? Why?"
"We had to. You were... formidable. And you killed a lot of people."
"What the fuck are you babbling about? I've never killed anyone."
"You've killed *thousands*. You just don't remember any of it. All of your memories from those days have been disrupted. An inadvertent result of us turning off your telepathy." The doctor tapped my forehead with a bony finger as if tapping upon my muted hippocampus.
I knew that this news should've shocked me. I was certainly curious, and a little frightened. But mostly I felt the same as I always feel: numb. I didn't really *feel* anything about it. Just curiosity.
"So let me get this straight. I'm a telepathic genocidal maniac?"
"You were."
"And you stopped me by shooting my brain with a raygun?"
"I guess you could say that."
"Why do I have a Lambo? Why is my house so nice? How can I be so rich if I was such a criminal? Shouldn't I be in prison?"
"There are many people who believe that you should! Many even wanted you to be executed. But most are just glad your reign of terror is over. We understand that whatever neurological anomaly gave you your powers also made you extremely aggressive and cruel. Now that those parts of your brain are being suppressed, you are a perfectly normal and functional member of society. To treat you as a criminal would be absurd."
"Yea but why the Lambo? I can understand letting me live free, but why pay me?"
"Honestly? People are still frightened of you. We want to keep you as happy as possible."
"I always wondered why people were so nice to me. Everywhere I go, people know who I am."
"Of course. You're the most notorious man since Hitler."
|
I’m just trying to be myself.
Why can’t people just leave me alone? Signatures and photos, that’s all they care about! I yell and try to scare them away but they usually persist and just end up following me taking pictures and tagging me on their Instagram. Fuck, I honestly think Sartre was right, “Hell is other people”.
I’m not a particularly pleasant person, I’ll admit. I never have been. I just don’t like other people. I’m not outwardly mean or maniacal, I just can’t bring myself to be brought into the lives of those around me and all the problems that eventually brings. People have baggage, myself included. The less of it the better.
I’ve done just about everything i can to distance myself from other people. I dropped out of college. I distanced myself from what little remains of my family; I moved into the mountains and live a very comfortable life alone.
I somehow hit the jackpot and found this big house complete with just about everything I need. It’s in the middle of nowhere about 5 miles outside of town. There’s a nice motorcycle and an awesome decked out Jeep in the garage. Tools to fix things, what luck.
There is no paperwork or pictures in sight so I have no idea who lives here. It seems like someone might have lived here before because everything feels slightly used. Could this be a safe house? There are only a few bedrooms and a couple bathrooms in the entire house. So strange.
It was pretty messy when I found it, not complaining though. It was an easy clean and I made some additions to myself.
I can’t believe what’s here. There is a green house, terrarium thing where I can grow food year round, plus marijuana. Solar panels that provide me with plenty of electricity. It looks like there’s a few generators with a massive tank of oil as backup. I try to use as little as I can.
I’m hooked up to the internet, but usually just for playing video games downloading movies and other things that you need to be online for. Social media, no. I have no need for a phone or apps. I did decide to look up how to create a perimeter surveillance system to let me know if anybody comes close to the house. Motion sensors and the like just to give me enough time to grab my bug out bag and hit the road in case the drug dealer or mob boss who owns this place shows up.
I have an extensive library that contains more records than I think I could ever listen to in a lifetime. Books, but to be honest I read a lot less than I should. I’ve read a lot of those “must reads” but I usually find other ways to entertain myself.
I’ve heard of people having a home gym but this place takes it a bit further. It has all the basics but there is a moderately sized ice rink, turf field and basketball half court underground each containing a bunch of random equipment for like any sport.
It’s amazing. There is also an indoor rock wall that reminds me of a vertical treadmill. You can program the wall to change the handholds so it’s always different. It’s super high tech, this might be one of my favorite things in the house.
Whoever bailed from this mansion is seriously missing out on something I love. Playing music. There are so many instruments in the recording studio and just all over the house. I love to jam and improv when I’m tidying up or just feel like messing around with beats, sometimes being alone allows me to go a little crazy and create whatever goes through my head.
The worst part is traveling into town when I need supplies. I hate it... I try to make it as quick as possible and will opt to self check out when I can. But I’m always hassled by people wanting to talk to me or give me a high five. I never get a clear answer from people when I ask why they are so nice and excited to see me but by then I’ve usually made my point that I don’t like them and they run away...
It’s always a struggle when I make that trip a couple times a month. I’m pretty self sufficient back at my cabin but there are still things I need from time to time. After all I’m not a savage. Hell I’ve even gotten a pizza delivered a few times.
I just want to be alone and be myself away from them. It’s so stressful being around others, I’ve never enjoyed connecting with people. I’m happy where I’m at, i feel like I can talk things out with imaginary people around me better than actual ones. That’s one of my hobbies, I’ll rant over a few things that I feel shouldn’t be issues in people’s lives, it’s not that difficult. “Why can’t people think!” I shout, running around my complex switching activities whenever I feel like it.
I picture people with me and will just let them hear it. Drug problems, you might be gay, you’re not happy, fucking politics?! I will just spout whatever I think is useful and whatever I think will get through their thick heads...
Overall Im happy. I have everything I need with the small exception of needing to go to town. I’m getting good with just about every instrument. I’ve gotten good enough at ping pong that I can beat the robotic arm attached to the other side of the table. I stay busy gardening, playing music and I’ve gotten pretty dominant playing games online. I sleep regularly and I can even go hunt when I feel like it. I chop and season firewood, I’ve started to use the hide to make clothing, god I love YouTube. I prefer using a bow to hunt and I’ve learned how to preserve the meat and fish I catch.
Everything has been going great but then I found tiny hidden cameras around the house, and they have been broadcasting, me. Being myself.
| 2018-05-14T23:56:09 | 2018-05-14T22:27:24 | 145 | 74 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
"NUMBER 117737."
Anxious and bewildered, you step up to the counter, behind which sits a very bored looking young man wearing a name tag that says GARY. He takes your ticket and asks, "Name?"
"John Smith. But this has to be a mistake. I don't belong in hell. I lived a good, honest life."
"Yep, that's what they all say." Gary clacks away at his computer, a large, boxy, surprisingly outdated machine, pulling up your records.
"I was! I was faithful to my wife, took care of my kids, always paid my taxes. I even called my mother once a week! There must have been some kind of mistake."
"Nope." A little machine, not unlike a receipt printer, spits out a small slip of paper. Gary tears it off and hands it to you. "That's your sentence. If you go to your left, you'll find a set of elevators. Insert your slip, and it'll take you to the Liaison's Office, where you'll be given your assignment." He recites this in the monotonous, droning manner of a person reading from a script.
"186,292 years! But the guy in front of me only got 145! And he was cheating on his wife! I never cheated on my wife! I was a good family man."
With a beleaguered sigh, Gary swivels the computer screen to face you. "What does it say here under occupation?"
You squint to read the tiny print. "Pest control specialist."
"Exactly. You, Mr. Smith, are single-handedly responsible for the death and suffering of over one billion living creatures over your thirty-year career as an exterminator."
"What?! But it was just mice and rats and bugs. They don't count, they're pests!"
"Article 7, section 3A clearly states that the purposeful taking of life in any form, no matter how inconsequential, warrants an automatic conscription to Hell."
"I was just doing my job!"
Gary rolls his eyes. "Do you know how many times a day I hear that? Move along, you're holding up the line."
Flabbergasted, you step away from the counter, staring down at your little slip of paper.
"NUMBER 117738."
|
“Why? What did I do to deserve this?”
Charon the gatekeeper just looked down. “If you want to dispute this sentence. Then you will have to speak to management. However I don.....l
“Well get me the fuckin manager then. This can’t happen to me in life I had thousands of more followers on social media then any of my friends. I had a great house a great family and an awesome job. I lived a great life.”
Charon simply smiled and cordially responded. “Very well please wait in the vestibule.”
So I waited.....and waited.....and waited.....and waited what seemed like an hour. This is total crap I used to get what I want when I wanted it anytime with the push of a button. I earned what I wanted and got it. Man this sucks. Well I wonder this tool bag manager is going to be like? Probably some simple minded yes man who never took a risk in his entire life. I was the man in life and I got everything I ever wanted. But I tell you what this waiting really sucks.
Just then some pimply faced accountant doofy looking dude showed up.
“Excuse me sir. My name is Nergel and I understand you have a complaint. How can I help you?”
Nergel??? What a turd name! But honestly I think he should call himself Nerdel. Made me laugh just thinking about it.
“Yeah Hi. There has to be a mistake here. The guy in front of me cheats on his wife and gets 100 years or something but I get like 200,000 years??? I was a pillar of my community. I did several good things with charities, and my family had everything they ever wanted.”
“Yes I understand that this may come as a surprise to you but the decision has been made. It would be best if you just served your....”
“Bullshit I don’t deserve this I should have some entitlement here! That dude in front of me was a drunk and a waste of life! He probably should have killed himself a long time ago.”
“Well technically you automatically get 500,000 years so that would not be advised.”
“I don’t care about that guy I care about ME. And you know what I am tired of your face, So listen here NERDEL why don’t you go get someone who has a pair of balls so I can get my reward.”
Nergel changed his demeanour slowly then just smiled. “Ok I guess it’s time to drop the pretences then. You are such a limited simpleton, a walking bag of garbage and if I didn’t have responsibilities here I would just end you.”
“Who do you think you.....”
Nergel waived his hand and I couldn’t speak. I tried but the words wouldn’t form.
“We’re done talking. Now it’s time for you to listen. You want to know why you got this time? Because you are an asshole. You used your family as a shield to show people you were a good guy when in fact you hated them. You never spent any time at home. Oh what’s that oh yes ‘because you were working!’ No no no that’s not exactly true. How many late nights in bars or strip clubs or weekends at the golf course did you spend?”
“Still nothing huh? Well how about all the anonymous social media bullying you did to improve your position at work? Man you sure did some things. Did you know that one guy you hurt spent the last few miserable years of his life in a group home? Survival of the fittest is what you called it. Well let’s just I can relate. I am the original survivor. I faced more pain then you can ever imagine and I think I know I am going to do with you.”
“Don’t be nervous it’s ok. I have great news! I have heard your complaint and I have decided that you won’t have serve 200,000 years.”
I looked up at him still not able to speak.
“I don’t really think serving 200,000 years is necessary for you. You probably wouldn’t get anything out of it. So instead I will reduce your sentence to 200 years where you will receive my finest training so when you do go to heaven you will be ready.” He waived his hand again so I could speak.
“Oh thank you very much I really appreciate it. I’m sorry I got hot I’m just a passionate person.”
“Oh your perfectly excused for that. No problem.” He motioned to an attendant. “Can you please escort this gentleman to level C. This man is ready for his training.”
“Yes my lord. This way please.” I was led to a room not too far from where I was. There was light coming out the door. Hey maybe I am just going straight to heaven after all. Ha ha ha I talked my way out of that one again. Survival of the fittest even in the after life. The door opened and I saw the blinding light.
“Step through.” I walked inside and the door behind me was shut. Then the light went out and I was in total darkness. A small lantern lit up in the corner of the room but I could not see anything. I heard some chittering and some gear noises. When my eyes adjusted I saw some spinning wooden crates with metal and hooks attached to it. Where was I.
Then a figure came from the darkness. A man with pins in his face. Chains shot out and tore into me. I screamed not ever feeling this kind of pain before.
“Welcome to your training. Let’s begin.”
| 2018-09-26T07:16:16 | 2018-09-26T06:56:58 | 4,281 | 74 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
I just stood there in shock. What could I have done, I thought to myself. I worked for a living, payed my taxes, kept to myself. I didn't do great things for anyone but I didn't really hurt anyone. Well, there was that one habit I had but surely that wasn't on par with murder or anything.
"What could I have possibly done to get me such a long sentence?!" I asked Peter.
Peter said "I don't really get it either, let me go though your records."
Peter starts looking through the book of my life and stop midway through and blurts out "Oh yes. That. That would do it. That would do it for sure."
"What was it?!" I demanded.
Peter said "Despite there being a perfectly functioning toilet, you were the guy that would shit on the floor of the bathroom at McDonald's."
|
It was certainly the biggest case of sticker shock poor Joe had ever experienced.
“A hundred and eighty seven thousand years? Where did that come from?!”
“One eighty seven, that’s correct. Wait, thousands? Let me see that again?”, the red creature exclaimed, reaching the hand across the table.
“Odd.”, the goblin looked as puzzled as Joe. “Hmm... let me talk here to my supervisor, hold on for a bit.”
Bureaucracy was hell on Earth, and this was hell’s own bureaucracy, so that’s that for setting his expectations. Joe looked back at what he’s gone through his life, and couldn’t see what would get him almost two hundred thousand years of suffering. The lad one table over, for example, only got 145! And that was for cheating on his wife!
Took an eternity for the goblin to come back, and he looked like an intern, to boot. “I got stuck on Hell’s hell, that’s for certain!”, Joe murmured under his breath, seeing his attendant turn the corner back towards the desk he was sitting on.
“Ok, so I’ve got good news, and bad news.”
Lovely thing, getting bad news from a bureaucrat in hell, Joe thought, while the little devil across from him tried to find the notes he scribbled on a bunch of post-its.
“See, your file was generated in Heaven, for some reason. So, you know how God’s Brazilian, right?”
“What? No. Why? I thought the guy was Argentinian?”
“Yeah, see, I don’t really expect you to know, it’s only really widely known in Brazil, unfortunately. You’re thinking of the Pope, by the way, he’s the one from Argentina, but forget about him, he’s only the middle man. Now, that confusion is what earned you 200 years down here, though, from which they then discounted net 13-ish years for your good deeds, in life, see? That’s on lines 49 through 57, page 14”
“Say that again? Two hundred years for confusing Brazilians and Argentinians?”
“Yep. You got off easy, to be honest, I’ve seen much worse.”
“Oh Lord..”
“SSSSSSHHHH!! CUT THAT! We don’t tolerate this language here!”
“Ok, ok, sorry, fine. And what’s the story with the thousands, though?”. 187 years was starting to sound like a good deal, compared to having to argue with a bureaucrat trying to appease his boss.
“About that! So, Heaven runs on Brazilian number conventions, using the comma for decimal separator, and period for thousands separators.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Nobody really does, truth be told, but it is what it is. And people say we’re Hell here, right? Now 187,292 should read 182 years, 106 days, 13 hours, 55 minutes and 12 seconds. Oh, oh! And get this! The time we’re spending here? That actually counts down! Isn’t that nice? So you’re already about.. almost 6 minutes down!” The smiling, red-skinned prick could hardly contain his excitement, and those 6 minutes were starting to feel like ages. Better accept it and try to get the hands turning faster on the clock, Joe resigned himself to believe.
“Ok, I get it. Thanks for explaining it, I’ll head over the entrance and get started, then. Thanks!”
“Wait, wait, come back! There’s the one thing, though!”
“What now?” That was it, Joe was defeated. For all the good he did in life, it couldn’t really get any worse.
“Now, you know your confusion, with the thousands, commas and periods? Well, turns out, our system confuses it pretty much the same way.”
“Fuck.” Joe felt himself slide for a second. I’d been a lifetime since he let out a curse like that.
“Nah, don’t be like that! Really! You just need to go and grab that queue over there, apply for a copy of your completed Form A38 from upstairs, and request for to it amended. Remember, we do have all the best lawyers. It should only take a few years to get it settled.”
“Ok”, he muttered quietly, thinking about all the hoops he’d have to jump because of a clerical error. Looking back, that was the time when he finally realised he was in Hell.
| 2018-09-26T09:05:26 | 2018-09-26T08:56:27 | 26 | 19 |
[WP]You’re a human stranded on an alien planet. The locals are sapient, but have a lifespan of only about six months. After dozens of generations (about a decade), you’ve managed to make quite a name for yourself.L
|
6 months in, I was surprised to find so much death. I was devastated. I was best friends with Uul. He was a very kind man. He's the one who taught me everything I know about this planet. I learned of their lifespan. I won't be making friends anymore. What's the point?
They have an interesting biological trick that helps them move society forward. They are able to pass down around 75% of their memories to their offspring. They don't sleep either. Their voice box is surprisingly similar to humans. Their language is simple and easy to learn. I was able to learn in just 2 months.
10 years have passed and I'm treated like a god here. If I'm being honest, it's pretty good. They are too naive and trusted me way too fast. I taught them about humans and that they shouldn't trust humans too quickly. I hope that if one day humans come, they won't be slaughtered.
It's only been 10 years and their technology has reached the 20th century. They'll probably reach the 21st century in about 2 years. Then the 22nd century in 2 more years. In another 10 years, they'll most likely have surpassed our technology. They won't need me by then.
I've been able to extend their lifespan by 6 more months with simple healthcare. I'm conducting sleeping experiments to see if that'll extend their life. It's not looking promising. They can't seem to shut their brains down to sleep.
My old solar powered suit has been getting radio signals recently. I think my team has been looking for me. I don't know if I want to risk these people's lives. Should I destroy my suit?
Was considering deleting this but who cares. I know this is written pretty badly but it's Reddit. I didn't know where to go next.
|
It happened shortly after the crash. Two days after his ship crash landed in Zenon-6, Caide Newell was all but sure he was a dead man. Telecoms went dark. The ship, an unmitigated wreck. There'd be no salavaging that flaming hunk of debris. But at least he survived, somehow. The same could not be said about the months of rations and supplies he had set out with. On one hand, Caide thought himself the luckiest s.o.b, he had survived an errant asteroid collision in space and that was damn near unheard of. But, on the other hand, he was stuck on a rock with no tools to do anything about it and food to survive. So he was *still dead*, just dead in a much slower, and less dramatic way.
"This blows." Caide had quickly lost track of the times he uttered those words.
Just as he assumed the end was nigh, pangs of hunger gnawing on him, all hope of surviving gone, something really strange happened. *They* approached him.
Tiny little things they were. Round, puffy bodies the size of a baseball, covered from head to toe in hazel brown fur. They had these itty-bitty hands with three digits on each and walked on teeny little feet. Most defining characteristic of all was there overly large eyes that shimmered a vibrant color when light refracted on them. They came out in droves. Dozens, no hundreds, of these mini creatures. Though he didn't see a mouth-it most likely being concealed by the tufts of fur on their face-Caide was positively convinced of one thing: they were going to eat him.
Instead, they spoke. "This blows." One would say, it seemed like the leader of the group. When he uttured the words in his squeaky high-pitch voice, the masses behind him echoed it too. Over and over they chanted the words and each time they did, they gyrated, their big eyes narrowing. Were they laughing?
After this went on for a moment, a thorough inspection of occurred. With little hands jabbing him from legs to arms to even his face, their touch soft and rubbery, Caide knew when he was in the middle of a physical. He let it happen, too afraid to anger them. Somehow, he had seemingly passed their test, for after they finished, they began motioning him to follow. Why not? Caide figured, following them slowly as some bounced up and down while others simply rolled. It was odd, he was terrified, but admittedly it was kind of cute. So he followed, besides he truly had nothing else to lose.
Their civilization was surprisingly a complex one. They lived in a cliff that had been burrowed into, tiny holes leading into tiny homes. A series of bridges and pulleys were fully employed. And all over the place, little tiki-like torches illuminated the community. It was quaint, it was safe, it was their home.
"This blows." The leader said to Caide. "Come, come. We have food." A few moments later, at his command, a host of little ones rolled out from their respective houses carrying a tray of food on their head. One by one they proffered it to their guest. Each one was a mini morsel at best, but Caide knew when a kindness had been given. He accepted it humbly.
The leader spoke up. "This is our new guest, 'This Blows', treat him well, be kind, don't poke him too much, but be sure to ask permission first if you do. He is big, he is funny looking, and he is a little smelly. But he is our guest! Welcome him." They did just that. A whole swath of furry little balls began to gyrate.
It was weird as all hell, but, Caide had to admit, it was nice. The food was edible, the accommodations even more so. From having thought his life had come to an end to suddenly a new strange beginning, Caide was quickly coming to terms with his new station in life.
The little critters, he soon would learn, had a short lifespan. They lasted only a few months. The first time Caide watched one of them pass struck him in a profound way. He was growing attached to them. When the leader who invited him into their home had passed, that had left Caide feeling especially hollow. But quick they were to reproduce, their numbers always full. After the third generation came and went, Caide out lasting their cycle of life and death, the once strange visitor from a different world became something of a legend to these little furballs. They soon looked to Caide for more than just his company. To them, he was a foreign being. A benevolent one who seemed to live for an eternity. They made monuments in his image, wrote songs and dances in his honor. As months turned to years, his legend only continued to grow.
Caide Newell was regarded as a god. That had bothered him at first, but quickly did he let that slide. It made his new friends happy. As far as he was concerned, this was his home now and they were his people. So whenever they gyrated, whenever they uttered *This Blows* so too did Caide.
| 2019-04-22T09:50:46 | 2019-04-22T09:39:54 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] You're an angel. You like to sneak out of heaven and watch Deaths work harvesting the souls of mortals. Today a young girl died in a car crash and you sit there waiting for the poor soul to be freed from its mangled vessel, but something is wrong. This time the Grim Reaper does not show.
|
It was a perfectly fine day. The kind you would enjoy, but blink and it would be lost amidst the memories. A reckless driver turned a bit too sharply and the top-heavy minivan went rolling across the intersection. I had been watching of course. I am by no means omniscient, but...we have our ways of observing.
The driver had already expired, and death was already extracting the soul, herding them off to stand before Saint Peter. I circled the wreckage, finding the twisted metal and shattered glass almost artistic in its contortion. I heard a voice from behind, in the foliage lining the road.
A young child, female, lie amidst the shrubs. Her torso was contorted violently and blood spattered her clothing. I pittied the doomed creature, and sat near her. The girl's breathing calmed, and her pain seemed to fade as I let our Lord's light wash over her through me.
Eventually the humans responded with thier noisy boxes and medicine, but by then, my charge was sitting beside me, cast out from her mortal shell. She was upset, but content with waiting with me until Death would return for her.
But...he did not. I began to wonder exactly what had happened, but the little one began to worry. Then, she began to doubt. And that doubt draws thier attention.
Night fell. I stood, and drew my flaming sword. They were coming. And I would not allow them this pure soul.
|
The Veil, Beyond, Afterlife, Styx, Pale whatever name you wish to call it, it is a forbidden place for all not Death themselves. It is a frightening place and much as it is a confusing one. At first the light which is hidden between the crack in a wall, small so only souls may wander through. Within a surrounding of pale bright, so many times I had placed my eye only to be burned by its intensity. Yet look beyond and there it is, at first dark and damp, then not so.
Beside a bending river that laps every so gracefully upon the wetted shore a small home. Wood from the smoothest tree makes a sleak shine to its outer hull. At its top a mesmerizing black of jet secures its snug roof. At the back as if placed by an artist of stone the most perfect chimney you could imagine. The gradient of greys and blacks gave to a beautiful display of stone leading to the riverbed. At night it would sometimes glow like the grandest visions of a night sky even beneath the crystal clear waters.
However this time, no smoke rose from the chimney, no dim light came from her windows. With a held breath I placed a nimble step past the crack where I dared never stand before. This was Death's domain a place noone 'cept Death belonged. I shuddered unprepared for the cold I somehow felt.
"Hello?" Came my first words, as simple as the thought that guided them. "I apologize for my trespassing, but there is a soul which without your hand may never see the light." The anticipation I held to meet the muse that filled my many evenings failed to still, yet no answer came.
I walked on each step was carefully guided with a perfect crunch of gravel, yet it was soft. I felt the splash of wet as I neared the river's berth, a cool refreshing feeling not chilling in anyway. Again I prepared my call and asked the void, "Hello?" Still I was left with nothing. With determination I furthered my distance to the crack in the wall. Carrying over the cool waters in neared the other side when finally I saw a shape.
A man stood by the river, not a shadowed figure, not a cloakin' form, no skeletal hand grasped around a tool of harvest. There he stood looking at the liquid mirror. With a final press of desire I opened my mouth once more. "Hello?" I spoke softer this time.
He looked away from the waters to me, seemingly unphased by the sight of me. Then with a heavy breath he pulled himself as if from a state of rest. "Hello?"
"Are you," I began to question even as the idea seemed odd to me, "Death?"
"Not quite." He replied with a weak smile.
Confused I was helpless to any other words. "What, simply does that mean?"
"To put it simply, I am Death's apprentice."
Unaware of this idea of Death having an apprentice my mind briefly filled with imaginations before I quickly quelled them. "Not to interfere with your, or Death's, duties may I ask as to where Death might be?"
"She is tending to the souls." He replied simply.
"Again I must apologize and do not wish to offend but I feel as if duties are being neglected-"
"The crash yes?" He replied, to my surprise.
"Yes, that poor soul, that little girl..." I cut my own words short even as they bit in my throat.
He gave another sigh and looked to me with pleading eyes. "Tell me, have you ever done something you felt was right only to struggle with its consequences from then on? Acted on what you felt, then later to suffer in your own hypocrisy every time after? It is an awful feeling only pained further by your own actions each and every time." His words flared with emotion.
This profound man perplexed me greatly, he seemed so very- human. "Consequences of our actions are one of life's- and I suppose death's- many beautiful factors. It teaches us of emotions and can remind us we care."
He smiled, a little more warmly this time. "Her soul will be brought through The Veil, and I assure she will be handled with the upmost care." He smiled. From within his pocket he pulled a watch and opened the clasp. Inside sat a wheel with an hourglass at its center. With a lasting stare he caressed the hourglass and gave the mechanism a flip. The sand that had been flowing to the other side stopped and I was hit by an enormous sensation I couldn't describe. With that he was gone, and again I was alone there.
So I walked backed through the crack and on the other side something came by. It was for the slightest of seconds but I saw her, the young girl. With her passing came a joyous giggle and the brightest of smiles. Then she was gone, through the crack of pale light.
_
r/theoreticalfictions
| 2019-06-09T23:12:55 | 2019-06-09T20:30:25 | 58 | 11 |
[WP] In the middle of a fight with a known villain, you, the hero are stopped by a young child. “If you fight the bad guy, and the bad guy fights you, and you both break everything as you go, what makes you think you’re any better than him?” Behind the child, you see the villain silently fist pump.
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“What makes you think you’re any better than him?”
*Better than him?*
*Better than-*
***Better-***
The world seems to bleed away as you focus more and more on the villain, up until the monochrome murderer is all that fills your vision. Over and over, the child’s question rings through your head.
At the other end of the plaza, you can see Stormwind silently fistpump. She must be under the false impression that such a question would be enough to distract you. No, not today. Not after all you’ve been through.
What makes you better than any of the criminals you catch?
For the government, the answer to that question would be absolutely nothing. You can’t count the number of times you’ve had to dodge Section 8 bullets while simultaneously beating down on whatever monster or new villain has cropped up. Official government policy is supposed to be “noninterference”, whatever that means, but the truth was that they couldn’t stand having to rely on third parties to deal with public threats. If the boot lickers had their way, then every single super would be locked up and experimented on just to find out how they worked. You refused to bend the knee, and chose to operate independently without their meddling influence.
For the people, it’s been a constant uphill battle. Your first few outings resulted in more than a few bottles and cans being thrown at you, and persisted up until you pulled your first big bust. That was three months into your career. The sticks and stones stopped, but the online hate grew fiercer than ever. Every single slipup, every little mistake, was relentlessly picked apart until you started avoiding the cameras. Even then, little drones and bugs continued to tail you until you figured out how to manipulate their little electrical signatures and short circuit them. They still persisted to this day, but you’ve grown better at masking your movements.
Now, well, you’ve become enough of a fixture in the city that the residents aren’t actively pushing for your head. Still, a crowd will cheer every time you take a hit, and take photos of every piece of property damage you cause. Nevermind that you just stopped a 12 foot tall rampaging monster, the city will never recover from the loss of those streetlights! You try all you can to ignore the jeers and insults, but you’ve heard enough to know where they stand.
For the villains, well, all that matters is that you stand against them. You are their enemy. They may curse your name, cry it in anger, but you will always be there to catch them. Broadcast, Entropy M, Baelphegor, monsters of old and new, all of them fell by your hand. Nobody knows how superpowers are formed, or why identical twins can have 2 wildly different powers, but yours were practically made for heroism.
It takes only a twitch of a muscle for your body to blur over to where Stormwind is standing, and then shock her with the power of a thunderstorm. Your powers do, thankfully, come with the instinctual knowledge of what the human body’s limits are, and you stop before Stormwind’s heart is anywhere near danger. Still enough to leave her smoking on the floor, however. You blitz back to the kid who asked the question, and look him in the eye. You slowly power down, and time begins to flow normally, but the kid doesn’t even notice you finished the fight. Still, you reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing for emphasis, and say,
“Because, I choose to be better.”
|
"With heroes like these, who needs villains?" Read the largest heading on the Sunday paper. She'd had to walk by it at every newspaper stand on her way to the office this morning, and now her publicist was reading it aloud to her from his cell phone.
"Yeah, I know what it's..." Volcanix tried to cut in. She really did know what it would say; what the hell else would it say? Her publicity agent shot her a look that would have curdled spring water. She shut up.
The little man with the turtle shell spectacles continued reading the article off his phone in his high piping voice which, could fill any auditorium at the slightest prompting of his diaphragm. "This Sunday afternoon during yet another supernatural showdown over the Great Falls skies, alleged 'hero,' by the name of Volcanix punted a young child into the Missouri River." Mr. Tiptup shot her a stern glance, then continued, "Thankfully, due to the opportunistic nature of a grizzly bear and the even more opportunistic nature of a nature photographer, the child survived with a light mauling and a broken femur."
Tiptup took a trembling sip of his tea. A less educated woman might have thought the man was shaking due to nervousness or fear, but Volcanix knew better. She knew she was one wrong word from a very severe ass-kicking. He cleared his throat and continued, refusing to even look at her. All she could do was sit sullenly in her seat like a scorned child.
"If nature photographers and actual bears are more likely to save our citizens than our commissioned heroes, then perhaps it is time we rally as a community to petition the guild of heroes for better representation. For decades, we have lived under the oppressive reign of these villains who hole up in Montana because they think, wrongly, that no one will mind if they have headquarters here. I say it is time we let the president, congress, the governor, and the guild of heroes know and let them know loudly!" Tiptup took a trembling sip of his tea. A less educated woman might have thought the man was shaking due to nervousness or fear, but Volcanix knew better. She knew she was one wrong word from a very severe ass-kicking.
"Tiptup, I know that I shouldn't have punted the kid," she began. He looked at her incredulously. "But he shouldn't have been being a smartass when I was at the height of my battle rage! I mean, do these kids even read the comics anymore? Don't they know..."
Evidently, one of those words had been the wrong one.
Before she could finish her sentence, Volcanix was flying through the shattering pane glass of the office window and down three stories to crash into the dust. Her head was ringing, stars fluttered fleeting across her vision, and into her line of sight floated the small little man who functioned as a publicity agent, general manager, regional supervising arch-hero, and human relations senior executive for the Montana branch of the heroes association (In an under-funded state like Montana, management roles had to wear several hats).
About Tiptup glowed a bluish, green glow, and his back had taken the shape of a turtle shell. His pinch little face had morphed into a turtle-like beak, and his skin had adopted a greenish pallor. Volncanix had only seen him take turtle form once... *I've really done it now... this is it, I'm finished. I can't even function in the Montana branch.*
"You would have been better off joining the evil side of things with your abilities." Tiptup's piping little voice had adopted a booming timbre that seemed to shake the very ground. "I said as much to the counsel, but they assured me that even a berserker could be brought into the fold with the proper training. Clearly, the lessons of my tutelage have yet to resonate with you, so today, we will try a new type of anger management."
Volcanix felt lifted into the air once more and slammed back to the dust. Flames licked at the back of her throat, begging to be released, to sear and burn her attacker. She bit them off with all her might. *No! That is what he wants. Show him you've gotten better. Show him your child punting days are over.* Again she was lifted and slammed down, harder this time, as the floating snapping turtle above her continued to lecture; he grew ever more in size as he spoke.
"I have tried the new-age, hands-off approaches of discipline with you. I have tried the softer, psychological methods of training and tempering your erratic disposition, but I have lost all patience with those methods. So today, we will take a course in Tiptup anger management." He raised a clawed flipper which, moments before, had been a nervous little hand and flung her into the distance. That was it, of course. A berserker can only keep her temper in check for so long. A column of flame burst into the sky, a roar of fury echoed in the river valleys below, and in a flash, a bright orange streak of light dashed towards the gargantuan, floating turtle, hurling balls of flame at its undershell. The turtle seemed unphased as the flames burst against his belly and bellowed around him in a blazing inferno, scorching the grass beneath and starting a small grass fire.
The giant turtle blasted a spout of reeking water onto the flaming grass to extinguish the flames and flew to meet the firey form of Volcanix in mid-air. The entirety of the city rang with a resounding crash.
\- - -
Click, click, click, click. Benjamin snapped off pictures in rapid succession, positively giddy with excitement. Ever since he'd picked up this gig from Gertruz Eater of Worlds, he'd been making the front page of the paper consistently. Staking out super-heroes had turned into such a lucrative profession, in fact, that Benjamin had finally been able to purchase the fishing boat he'd coveted since he was in college. *And they said you couldn't make money as a photo-journalist.*
Sure, he was no adventurous photographer who braved African warzones, but he had (allegedly) saved that young child from a grizzly by throwing his day's fishing catch in the other direction. Not before taking a picture, of course, a picture which now had him on contract to catch the two local superheroes brawling in the prairie outside town. Perhaps it was wrong to undermine heroes on the dime of literal, self-proclaimed villains, but as the newspapers read today, what sorts of heroes were these folks really? That bear photo, and the subsequent, only mostly fabricated story which Benjamin had fed to the press had finally put him on the path to easy street. *Isn't that the American dream? Isn't that what we're all out here doing?*
Click, click, click, the camera agreed, happily. Oh yeah, it was gonna be a good year for Benjamin, and possibly for Gertruz Eater of Worlds, if not for anyone else.
| 2021-04-18T08:42:11 | 2021-04-18T06:54:17 | 47 | 15 |
[WP] Your old friend, Mary Sue, appears perfect but is actually a time manipulator who rewinds time to appear perfect, and do anything with zero consequences. You, however, can secretly remember previous iterations.
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Mary’s beautiful red dress is stained, some of it from the bottle and some of it from the puke. She’s been crying for hours now. She looks at the pills on the table. Angrily wiping her tears, she takes a determined step towards them.
A voice, faintly familiar, comes to her from the darkness. “The things we do for love.”
Her world goes black.
******
Mary looks longingly at Brett Stenson, the coolest guy in her school. She doesn’t have many friends. Well no friends really. She had just moved to Shelbyville and her awkward nature hadn’t helped matters.
That didn’t stop her from day dreaming though.
She had often wanted to go talk to Brett. But he was always surrounded by friends. So she looked on, her heart hurting, her sighs silent and her tears invisible.
Till the fateful day she opened her locker and saw the note. It was all of Brett’s likes and dislikes. Including his schedule and where the best ways to meet him would be.
At the end was a sentence. Don’t lose yourself trying to find something. It was simply signed “a friend”.
Mary was ecstatic. While the last line gave her a bit of pause, her feelings for Brett won out. Whoever this “friend” was obviously didn’t know the pain of unrequited, one sided love.
Mary also had another secret. Her special ability to reverse time as and when she wanted.
So she started her journey. An accidental meeting at Burt’s in a “Got Ring?” shirt with Gollum’s picture below it which Brett saw and laughed heartily. That’s how their conversation started.
Slowly and slowly Brett discovered that they had many things in common and just like that Mary was part of his inner circle. His friend Gary was always friendly to her but Bella and Jessica were cold and distant. They never let go of any opportunity to put her down.
But they had to contend with her abilities. The next time they tried to trip her and make her land in her lunch, she kicked Jessica’s foot hard enough that she landed in the hospital.
This was especially problematic with their school dance right around the corner. Jessica was supposed to be Brett’s date for the event.
Bella was secretly happy. She knew this was her chance. Brett held back a little but at the end of the day, he asked Bella.
Mary stood there, wondering how to fix it when Gary came up to her.
“You look sad.”
“Oh it’s nothing.”
“He likes you, you know. You should’ve asked him. Don’t wait for him to ask you.”
With that, Gary was gone.
Mary wiped her tears. It was worth a try.
And it worked.
All eyes were on Mary as she entered the ballroom they had converted for their school dance. The girls burned with jealousy and guys with desire.
As the slow number came on and Mary found herself with her head on Brett’s shoulder, she knew true happiness. Whatever happened going forward, this moment was perfect.
It was three days later that she discovered Brett in bed with Bella.
Brett dismissed her. “It was just a dance. Not like we’re dating or exclusive or anything.”
“Did it mean nothing to you?”
“It’s not like that Mary. I like you. But I like Bella too. And Jessica. I just don’t know yet.”
Mary tried to relive the day many times but it always came down to that. She had changed everything about her. She had changed her look, her interests, her personality. So much so that she barely recognized herself but what had it all gotten her? This moment of heartbreak. All her attempts always led to this.
After having her heart stomped on for the seventh time, she couldn’t take it anymore. She got into her mother’s liquor cabinet to gather courage for what she wanted to do. She also got her mom’s sleeping pills.
As she sat there, crying her eyes out, a voice spoke out of the darkness. “I wish you could love yourself the way I love you.”
And her world went black.
*******
Gary Stu stood at the gate. He knew this was Mary’s first day at school. This was the first day he had seen her. Had he fallen for her the first day? He didn’t think so. No. He had only realized that he loved her when Brett asked her out to the dance. That had been several loops ago. Since then he had tried to help her. He hid his own tears, put on a fake smile as his heart tore itself open. He wished and hoped that one day she look at him the way she looked at Brett.
He had considered using his abilities to make himself more like Brett. But while he could make himself like Brett, he could never be Brett. And Mary wanted Brett. Gary wanted Mary to be happy. The fact that with each loop he had to see the only girl he would ever love go through the pain of heartbreak didn’t matter. Atleast for a few days, Mary would be happy.
And that was what mattered. Besides, who knew, maybe this time would be different.
He wrote down the list of Brett’s likes and dislikes.
Opening her locker was fairly easy. It was always the same combination.
He put the list in and walked away, wiping a lonely tear that had somehow escaped.
|
Nobody is born perfect. In fact the very concept of perfection is not achievable, and is dangerous to pursue, as it is a goal unreachable, and will drive most people who attempt to reach it, veritably insane. Yet if one were to take a look at my old friend Mary, one might think that perfection walks as a person among us. Her hair and clothes are always perfect. Her grades were always the best back when we attended school together. She never makes any mistakes, never gets hurt, always gets to everything on time, never forgets a birthday, and is generally just seemingly flawless. Her relationships are always good, and never need to be repaired. She's got it all, one might say. And indeed, she does. Everything succeeds for her, and she has never lost anything. We've been friends since childhood, and she's never made a single mistake.
Well, not counting all those times she rewrote history. Because nobody is inherently flawless. But Mary wants to be that. And somewhere deep inside her, perhaps in a strange twist of fate, perhaps a very odd mutation in her DNA, or something more esoteric, lies her secret. Time manipulation powers. Whenever she stumbles, whenever she doesn't win flawlessly, whenever she displays a single sign of weakness, she just rewinds time. So she always knows what to say in an argument, because she knows what her opponent is going to say. So she always knows how to get the hottest people to date her, because she knows exactly what they want and like. She always gets the job, wins the race, beats the competition. And there are no consequences for Mary. It's a perfect reset. Or not quite perfect. I remember everything. Every single failure, every single time she cheated, every single time she wasn't absolutely perfect. Or at least I remember all the times I was there to witness her. I alone remember when she wasn't perfect. There were days where we weren't together and I knew she was rewinding time, which was bothersome, after all, who wants to repeat the same things all over again?
Of course, I did use it to my advantage a few times. I used all the extra time at the exams to get, almost, as good grades as her. When I realised she could reverse entire weeks, I began to religiously study and memorize the local state lottery winning numbers. I of course never won the big prize, as that would be too obvious. But I did win some fourth, third, and even once a second place, giving me a sizable amount of money. Not enough to be obvious, and not enough so anybody would notice. But enough to live comfortably doing what I wanted. But I also, over time, learned about the consequences. There are none to Mary. She can do whatever she likes, perfectly, with zero ramifications. But her powers aren't healthy. Not for those around her. She doesn't notice, because she lives a perfect life, but I am beginning to notice the side effects. Not on myself, it seems as if I am as protected against the outcome of her overindulgence in time manipulation as she herself is. But because I am still human, and haven't attempted to climb the stairs towards the top of the ziggurat of perfection, I've noticed some alarming things.
She always prefers to walk in the glamorous hallways of power and fame. She dances with film stars and drinks with nobles. Me? I've gotten on with my life. I became an engineer, and found employment with the government as part of the reconstruction effort, specifically the rebuilding of several areas affected by the battles fought during the Second American Civil War. And building new housing projects for refugees from the ruins of the Sinking South and the Midwest warfront and such. It was during the planning period for the restoration of Chicago, one of the most heavily contested urban warzones, that I discovered it. Several refugees had taken shelter in a still standing apartment building. But had been removed by the Chicago Garrison's chemical warfare clean-up crews. Strangely, nobody could tell what exactly had happened to the refugees. Only that their cells had aged. Aged until they were one and all, dried up and mummified corpses. People who'd been mostly alive and fine one day, gone the next. By the time the apartment building had been emptied, some of the architects and engineers were called in to asses how to best demolish the clearly either irradiated or chemtrapped building without causing damages to the surrounding area.
So there I was, in some sort of chemical suit. Walking through a damaged building. And I didn't realise what it was initially. It was just a room, filled with emptiness. Not that it was empty, but that emptiness filled it. No light, no dark, only nothing at all. Like something out of some old book I once read as a kid. Neverending Story. The Nothingness. An empty void, where not even light or dark existed. Initially I figured it could have been an experimental weapon, left behind by the rebels, accidentally activated by the refugees. But then Mary rewinded time. I was outside the building again, putting on the chemical suit. I walked up to that room again. Except it wasn't there. Or more precisely, the nothingness that had been contained in that room, had spread a little. Now the walls did not exist there. One of the engineers passed by that moment, and didn't notice the nothingness. But his hand passed through it. And the emptiness sucked him in. I remembered him, sure. I radioed back to command and asked for the exact number of people sent in to asses demolition opportunities. Their answer was one less than I remembered. As I examined the building further, I saw that there were other pockets of this strange void. Much smaller yes. But then I remembered that Mary's family had moved to Maine from Chicago, when she was six.
I remembered that she came from around this part of the ruined city too.
I wondered if that one place, the room with the largest concentration of abyssal emptiness, was her room. As she sometimes rewinded time over the days I was in Chicago, I saw the building eventually be consumed by that abyss. Terrified, I put in my resignation, and drove back to Maine. Back to the town where we grew up together. And sure enough. Abyssal void was consuming it. The school we went to had been closed due to a lack of children and teachers in the area. I knew that it had been closed because it was nearly completely full of abyss. Her old house, was likewise filled with void manifestations. I couldn't help but think about how long it would take before my entire hometown, had been unmade, consumed by nothing. Mary had absolutely abused her power. Not always for selfish reasons. Sometimes it had been to confront bullies, help other kids. She even saved the life of her neighbour's kid once by rewinding time and calling an ambulance to his location, which arrived just as he was about to go into anaphylactic shock. She was kind, generous, and helpful. If a bit narcissistic. But it is entirely possible to be a kind narcissist. It's just not a common combination.
I had to do something.
I drove recklessly to the closest airport. And got a one-way ticket on the first plane to Neo-Angeles, where she now lived. As one of the rich and beautiful. She wouldn't have noticed it, but even as we flew over independent California, I saw them. Flickering bubbles of abyss and void. Small now. But growing, every time she used her power. It was useful for her, in her role as a film star herself. Miss One-Take, was her affectionate nickname given to her by adoring fans. Because she always only made a single perfect take of any scene. Of course, I knew she used her power for that too. Vain. And dangerous.
I figured I had two options. Try to get into contact with her the normal way, or force my way to her, to make her stop before the abyss consumed America. Which would be a perfect way to cap off a decade of only just recently ended civil war. Figuring that with the increased security measures around the film actors after the 2023 Academy Award Massacre, I had about a snowball's chance in Hell of getting to talk with her normally and privately. So I bribed a local guard of the insanely corrupt Californian Self Defence Force and stole a fully functional Armoured Personal Carrier. And drove it straight through the gate into the film studio where she was filming the third Star Wars remake. A fact which made me somewhat furious, in and of itself. Infinite remakes are not fun. I drove past people and over guard cars until I crashed through the gates into a small hangar used as a large greenscreen studio where Mary was dressed as Han Solo next to someone in a Wookie costume designed by somebody with major mother issues. I stopped the APC right in front of Mary, popped open the top of it and looked at her.
| 2021-07-25T12:05:23 | 2021-07-25T10:59:44 | 484 | 233 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda.
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"So, that's it, then." Pan massages his temples and stares at me from across the table. He looks different without the equipment. Athletic wear, corporate logos, speaker systems. I wouldn't believe this slight, curly haired kid could break a parking garage with his voice, but he did. Pretty recently, too. Had to sign with Ricola to pay for repairs. That was a helluvan ad. Caused an actual avalanche. Shook the ice so hard it *melted.* I don't think anyone's ever melted a mountain before.
"Well, yea. I don't plant bombs in people's brains, I don't go rob banks."
"But you're also not helping anyone." Titan's Gift weighs a bit heavier on him. He wears his suit. It's more like a mish-mash of logos and signatures than anything, at this point. I guess his PR team's really good. I've got no clue if he signed with these companies because he wanted or *needed* the money.
"So you're okay with just sitting on the sidelines, doing nothing? Not gonna try to end some of the military conflicts of the world?" Pan grabs the sandwich I've made for him and smells it. His eyes narrow. I roll my own and teleport the PB & J onto my plate and take a bite. Make a big show of chewing and swallowing before mockingly grabbing my own throat and asphyxiating. Titan grabs his five sandwiches and tears into them.
"I'd get shot at. Plus it's harder to accurately move things if I'm under pressure."
"So, you don't wanna help people because you're afraid you'll hurt them. And, obviously, you don't wanna hurt people." Pan taps off his recording device, some small wrist watch shaped like his signature leaf, and steals a sandwich from the juggernaut beside him. "Good enough, for now. So what do you really want, then?"
"I want to make the perfect peanut butter jelly sandwiches. Teleport the jelly and smooth, smooth peanut butter onto gently toasted bread. Never have to dirty a knife or ruin a jar of PB."
"...You're totally demented. You're the worst kind of monster" He looks at me in horror, dropping his sandwich. "Everyone knows chunky peanut butter is better."
|
"Whoa, guys, now wait just a sec", I said while raising my hands in a warding gesture towards the two supes trying to threaten me with their powers.
"No more waiting, Carl", said Josh the Jellyfish. Yes, he picked that name. "Your time's up", added Rocky Rhayle. "Either you spill your secrets now or we spill your guts. Your decision."
I rolled my eyes. "First of all, do you really believe you could 'spill my guts' that easily? Second, Josh, we were flatmates when we were in university. What secrets do you think I'm hiding? Not to mention that about five of your friends already tried to find any evidence that I'm more than I seem to be in the past week alone. This is really getting out of hand and very annoying so please just accept that I'm simply not interested in being a celebrity like you."
"Sure", Rhayle replied. "A man with your abilities would have absolutely no ambition to make the world a better place."
"Look", I said, rubbing my temples with my right hand. "It's more complicated than that. I do have my reasons not to act while terrible things happen, really, I do, but they're not part of any evil plan or something. I just..." I broke off. "I can't tell you. It's too dangerous."
"So there is actually a secret!" Rhayle exclaimed triumphantly and crossed her arms with a very satisfied face.
"Yes, and I have no intention of telling you whatsoever", I said. The next moment, my whole body dissolved into a viscous liquid and I escaped through a crack in the wall behind me. I filled it with stone as soon as I had reached the other side, though that wouldn't stall Rhayle for very long. So I started running, my legs propelling me forward four times faster than normal. I turned some corners to shake off anyone tailing me. Some moments later I saw Rhayle flying past the entrance to the alley I hid in, standing firmly on a disc of rock, Josh clinging to her for dear life as they zipped though the streets.
I waited a minute more, then I exited the alley, walking down the street in the opposite direction of where my would-be pursuers had headed to.
I sighed. I would have to sneak back into my own house again today. Hopefully Rhayle would already be there when I returned so I could dig a tunnel into the cellar. If I could only find someone who was able to create illusions I could start a new life with a new face somewhere else. Or would that be too taxing for them? Also, I would need to stay close by...
I lost myself in those thoughts as I wandered homewards, which was a fatal mistake. I realised that when I was pulled into a doorway suddenly and someone pushed my down to the floor. I hit hard, my backbone protesting loudly. I blinked, attempting to reorient myself. Where was I? And what the heck was going on?
"Hello Carl, old friend," a terribly familiar voice said. "Velu?" I called, rolling over so that I lay flat on by belly. My view landed directly on a pair of dirty old boots. I glanced upwards and saw a young woman staring down at me with a faint smile on her lips.
I groaned. Getting caught by somebody twice a day? It was a new record high. I got up again and, while dusting of my clothing, explained: "Look, I don't really have the time or the patience to deal with you right now, so, you know." I shrugged. Then I tried to find someone with powers that could be useful. And if it was only someone particularly strong - not even supernaturally.
It didn't work. It felt like I had lost a sense, gone blind or deaf.
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, darling', my ex-girlfriend sighed, "but none of your powers are going to work - for quite a while, I'm afraid. You see, Crane the Collector here has the remarkable ability to take someone's powers away from them and use them himself. It's quite handy to be honest." She gestured to a hulking man behind her I only now noticed. "What do you feel?" she asked him, but he only furrowed his brows. I groaned on the inside. This was going to start a whole host of problems.
"Well?" Velu asked again.
"I don't... I don't understand...", Crane mumbled. Despite the unpleasant situation I was stuck in a grin split my face. It was actually funny - somehow.
"Perhaps you should stop and try again," I suggested. "Maybe you accidentally suppressed your own powers."
I could hardly believe it, but the idiot really fell for the trick.
As soon as I felt my powers returning - marked by a prickling sensation all over my body - I attacked. I stretched out my feelers for the man's energy source, the one that powered his abilities, and redirected the flow towards myself. I did the same to Velu and everybody else in the building for good measure - though I really tried not to take too much. They were villains, yes, but I didn't want to kill anyone - not as I had done the first few times I had used my powers.
I was out the roof of the building a second later, the wind carrying me away. I landed after only flying a short distance. I didn't want to risk losing the connection and plummeting to my death.
After having recovered from the awful experience of having my own powers turned against me, I went looking for Josh and Rhayle. If someone who could do the same things I could had joined the battlefield, I probably had to step up and put him in his place.
Even though I just hated bloodshed and all that stuff...
| 2021-08-16T17:15:46 | 2021-08-16T14:51:45 | 215 | 80 |
[WP] The galaxy is a dark and lonely place. "First Strike Diplomacy" reigns out of fear. Few species survive even 300 years after developing interstellar travel. When humans entered the galaxy, we were the first species confident enough in war to ask someone "Are you sure you want to do this?"
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"You think we haven't faced extinction before?"
That gave the being pause. Ships slowed and while their batteries were charged, they didn't fire.
"You think you will survive?" the robotic voice played through the terminal, translating the clicks and gurgles of the creature on the monitors.
"I think we will make victory so unpalatable, you will return home in disgrace. If there's a home for you to return to." The captain spoke with a calm, confident tone. One that was betrayed by how he wrung his hands behind his back, out of view of the camera.
" You have no... Weapons. You have but a few ships. You have--"
" We have a BHD, or a Black Hole Drive. This is a weapon, if used incorrectly. If set on a feedback look, the gravity well contained within will begin eating its own event horizon, causing a rapid collapse and eventual explosion of unparraled proportions." He paused a moment to allow the computer of the alien to translate what he had said before continuing. "And it also allows us flight far beyond anything you possess. Officer Jones, bring up the star map and how our new friends here where the UESF Daedalus is in relation to their approach vector."
A young woman waved her hands across a screen, sliding through different menus before the holomap appeared in the center of the room. A 3D image of the galaxy sprung to life, showing countless stars and planetoids. Amongst them, a pale red line arched from somewhere offscreen, then linked to a small blue dot, which the captain pointed to. "This is Earth. And this line is your approach vector. We've tracked your progress since you first arrived. Based on ship size, crew, supplies and the average velocity of your fleet, we estimate that you came from somewhere in this region."
The map expanded and zoomed out once more, showing an entirely alien realm, where even the computer wasn't quite sure what to make of the things it survayed. Amongst it all, however, was a small flashing red dot." That there is the Daedalus. And everything you see here... Is everything in its blast radius."
"You are bluffing." The robotic voice, calm and steady, did little to translate the apparently anger that the being showed, the clicks becoming more rapid and chittering, even as more sounded in the background of their side of the call. "Nothing is that fast."
"Are you willing to test that?"
The silence reigned for a good few minutes before, slowly but surely, the computer detected the powering down of the orbital fleets batteries. "Recall your weapon."
At this, the captain could only smile. "I don't think so. Return home and explain to your people what you have seen here. Let them know their fate rests in our hands. And ask them, before they try to attack another race without so much as a hello... Are you sure you want to do that?"
|
We were caught completely off-guard when they came.
Entire alien fleets bounded the great distances between star systems and struck down our colonies with ease.
These colonies, mostly tiny research stations on frozen rocks, could do nothing as they watched the enemy fleet fire its weapons and turned their rock into dust.
News took a while to reach home. But when it did, the Council was enraged. They mobilized massive amounts of resources to the development of weapons and the building of ships. Old schematics of long-forgotten weapons were dug up from the darkest and most forgotten regions of the Library. Entire academies were built to train a new line of commanders and soldiers to fight for Humanity. Massive planet-sized factories roared to life, as loud as they did during the Third Expansion Era. Fleets filled with eager and passionate young men and women dashed across the great expanse of space, towards the frontline.
When the first Human fleet met an alien fleet, they descended onto them like a pack of hungry wolves. Weapons of old cast golden streaks that slammed into the sides of the alien ships. Purple light exploded forth from the impacts, burning the hull of any fighter that ventured too close to the ships. The aliens didn't even have time to react before the entire fleet had been destroyed or disabled.
Bursting with confidence, boarding vessels filled with bloodthirsty marines crashed into the brittle hulls of any alien ships that still maintained an atmosphere. There, these marines slaughtered and cut down any alien soldier that stood in their way. Data and prisoners returned to the Human fleet. Spoils of war, they called it.
Human doctors pulled open alien corpses with a childish giddiness in their eager eyes. Translator and code breakers slaved away for hours communicating with prisoners and understanding their data.
All the while, Human fleets advanced into their territory. Fleets rained down fire onto planet surfaces, turning the soil into glass and creating ash statues of buildings and innocent aliens. Massive battles raged across the cosmos. Thousands of ships rammed against each other, each with weapons the other did not understand. Millions of soldiers screamed and yelled as they sunk swords and their fists into the faces of their opponents, firing at each other out of fear and anger.
&#x200B;
An admiral stood in the foreign throne room. The skulls and exoskeletons sat in various slots in curved cabinets all around the throne room. Banners zig-zagged back and forth across the ceiling, casting dancing shadows against the furthermost wall.
Four marines flanked the admiral, their rifles sparkled in the orange glow of the sun. An alien translator awkwardly stood next to the throne, twirling his tentacle fingers.
He studied the translator, taking in its features. He rarely had a chance to look at one up close. He was always either looking at one dashing towards him growling or shriveled up against the back of a cell.
The admiral impatiently paced around the room, looking at the various trophies displayed on the walls. His anger was quietly building up inside of him. This fucking man, thing, whatever-the-fuck, had the audacity to make him wait. Even with a massive fleet floating a couple of thousand kilometers away with their weapons pointed down at the city.
The admiral turned when he heard the sound of a creaking door.
A much smaller and shriveled version of the translator shuffled out of the doorway. flanked by half a dozen females. Slowly, he made his way to the throne and pulled himself onto it.
He opened his mouth and a deep growl echoed out. The admiral had been told that these worms communicate in a frequency below what humans can hear.
"The king would like to thank you for your patience."
"No problem. I would like to quickly remind the king that I have two hundred warships orbiting your planet right now with their weapons pointed at the most populated areas of you planet." the admiral said with a quick nod.
The translator bent down and whispered into the king's ear. The king shifted in his seat before continuing.
"I'm Admiral Barkley of Humanity. I am here to represent the interests of my people and my superiors." Barkley interrupted before the translator could talk.
"The king would like to know why you are here."
"Didn't you get the message? I thought I was pretty clear with why I came down here."
"Yes, he did, but the king would like to know why you have chosen to be here."
"To present our terms of surrender. You have pretty much lost."
The translator slowly leaned down and whispered again into the king's ear. After hearing this, the king rose from his chair faster than Barkley thought anything could move. His marines raised their rifles and aimed at the king.
"Woah! Woah! Woah! The hell? Sit the fuck down, and you guys out your guns down." Barkley said as he put himself between the very angry king and eager marines.
The marines awkwardly lowered their rifles and returned to their original stance.
"Now, you, tell me why the fuck that is such a bad thing."
"THe king thinks you are lying."
"Lying? About what?"
"Surrender."
"Why would I lie about that? You think we aren't going to offer you the chance to surrender?"
"We do not believe in surrender. You are here to wipe us out with your fleet, no? And you have come on the behalf of your people to do what?"
"We're not gonna wipe you out unless you give us a reason to. As I said, I'm here to offer you a deal."
"Surrender?"
"Surrender."
"But, why?"
"Why not?"
"Why offer us surrender? We started a war."
"We don't want to wipe you out, not unless we have to."
"Why offer it to us now?"
"We would've always accepted your surrender! But you never asked for one, so here I am!"
"W-we could've...asked?"
"You never thought to ask?"
"But, that's not how things work..."
"You never thought to ask? Not once?"
"No..."
"Oh my fucking god. Fucking worms. Fine! I'm here now, I have terms, I'd be willing to negotiate with the big man here. Now, shall we begin?"
| 2022-01-22T10:09:29 | 2022-01-22T07:41:07 | 272 | 153 |
[WP] As it turns out, aliens all have aphantasia. This makes Humans the only species capable of imagining images in their heads. This greatly confuses alien telepaths, who report seeing “constantly shifting landscapes of alternate realities” when peering into human minds
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“Hi, I’d like one thirty minute session,” said the tall man, standing just a bit over 210 orbids, his tail swishing a little.
“That’ll be sixteen azulios,” said the woman behind the concession stand.
The tall man handed her a couple crumpled up bills.
She accepted.
“One moment please.”
She turned around and punched a couple buttons.
A low electrical whining sounded.
“Your tickets.”
“Thanks.”
He shuffled over to the door and went down a dark passageway illuminated by small glowing signs with numbers on them. They marked the doors.
“Room sixteen…here,” he stopped at one of the doors and opened it with his four fingered, pale blue hand after pressing his ticket to the sign.
The door clicked as it unlocked and opened slightly ajar.
“Preparing to begin session,” a low synthetic voice said as he walked through and sat down a a plush chair in the middle of the square room.
“Where would you like to go?”
“The Arwick Seas, mid winter.”
A low humming followed by a low mechanical screech.
The wall he was facing suddenly turned opaque, then completely transparent. On the other side was a dirty little ape strapped to a chair, an attendant next to it slowly injecting it with hallucinogens.
A small grin creeped onto his face. His fingers tapped the armchair impatiently and he shuffled in his seat. His sole, crimson eye focused on the ape.
“Preparations complete, please begin and enjoy.”
The man’s crimson eye flashed green. The ape started howling, struggling with its restraints and kicking at the wall.
The man closed his eye.
He could feel it.
He could smell it.
He could see it.
The biting cold, the salty breeze. The shacklebirds crying out in the distance as they flew over the endlessly black expanse of churning water.
“An extension…I want an extension!” The man screamed.
“Confirming one 30 minute extension,” the synthetic voice sounded again.
“Another hour.”
“Happy dreaming dear customer.”
The man drooled and his toes curled.
“Yes…more, yes!”
“Seel vu play! Non! Non! No—ARGHH—“ The ape howled and howled and howled even louder as another needle pricked him.
The man smiled.
|
Note about the prompt: if the aliens can see other's imagery then there imagination is still indeed intact -- they *can* still visualize things except they're only receiving it rather than self-generating it. However I think the spirit of the prompt is alien's are lacking in imagination and are bewildered by that of the humans which is a nice idea and I shall respond to it.
............
"You there, hold it right there criminal scum." The alien commander of the fifth fleet said. There was no reply by the dream-walking alien. He was one of the orderly's from the kitchen and condiments division of the space ship -- as the insignia on his uniform showed.
The dream-walking alien made to go down unconsciously the rest of the hallway before finally the alien commander took his Palladium walking stick -- an item of extreme designation of the upper echelons of Markovian society -- and whacked the dreaming orderly with it.
"AWWOOUHHH!" A few blinks of their alien which swirled shut like a camera shutter for each blink. "Where...where...where am I?" Then "Oh sire, your excellency. How do you do?" The orderly alien said shaking in fear. It was the fear of being in pain in front of an authority figure rather than simply being afraid of the alien commander. The Markovian alien's were very sensitive creatures and their feelings and perceptions lasted long after they experienced them. They in fact became their own, ephemeral, world.
The alien commander sighed. "Another one caught daydreaming?"
"Sir?"
"You were dreaming of vivid landscapes again weren't you?" The alien nodded, regaining his senses further of time and space.
"Was...was...I? Is this the plague sir?"
"Indeed it is cadet."
"The HUMAN plague sir? The one in the notice sent out by Command." The orderly said with gasp, the word human echoed through the hallway.
The alien commander of the fifth fleet shook his head. Things were getting grim: since the aliens had passed by with their reconnaissance of the human homeworld, which they had labeled Labia-Titana, there had been a plague spreading through the fifth fleet. Every day aliens were being filled and entranced with thoughts of imagination. Some were daydreaming, others were writing creatively on the walls.
The aliens of Markovia were a very gentle race, not only in physical nature but also in mental stature. They didn't aspire to much mentally because the background environment of their homeworld did not demand it. The alien's evolution designated them with some a form of a mental apparatus that was able to receive images but not self-generate them.
As a result the aliens never learned to come into relationship to the visual images that touched their mind. Because it was rare and few when it did happen, and they were told to just follow orders from the higher up echelons -- which of course they did. This all created a race of aliens that were very susceptible to the imagination.
The reconnaissance space plane had brought back the infected crew and the "virus" quickly spread. More and more aliens were imagining things and seeing beautiful visual landscapes like none they had ever seen before.
Of course the higher ups, who were not dimwits, knew what this could mean for their ranked society. Not only the issue that distracted aliens are unproductive but if dreaming of new landscapes can suggest the idea of novelty to the lower classes. What other new ideas might they encounter? Perhaps a changing of the social order itself, so the alien commander himself had been briefed in a private communication from the Mother-Queen.
"Off to the medical bay with you," the alien commander said at once.
"But sir, but sir."
"That's an order cadet!"
The orderly had wanted to the alien commander about these beautiful green and brown landscapes he had seen. The terrain was uneven and there were these brown cylindrical objects, almost like pillars, with many pointed-jagged little green beasts on them. It was as if the green beasts were growing from the brown cylinders. The alien didin't know how else to describe it, what's more is that there were dozens and dozens of green beasts covering one cylinder and there were several such brown pillars across the terrain. Sometimes the green beasts seemed to bob up and down uniformly, and make a uniform sound like that of the engine of their space ship.
That evening the cadet did go to the medical bay where they were implanted with a chip that resisted the human imagination waves.
You see what had actually happened was that it wasn't a virus that had spread. It was the contamination of the alien's with a layer of reality they had previously not known before. When the imagination of one alien was activated, it spread by cultural osmosis to the next and so on and so forth. What this means, practically speaking, is that each imagining "daydreaming" alien amplified the imagination realm further and further beyond Labia-Titana.
It was just chance that there was enough "amplifying power" of the reconnaissance crew to extend the imaginative field to the area of space where the fifth division was docked. This was how the "plague" spread back to the mainship of the fifth division.
The medical staff of the crew soon realized the dynamics at place and that it wasn't in fact a virus -- though culturally speaking it still was in a manner of speaking -- and they developed a chip to suppress the aliens internal systems from picking up and transmitting the imaginative layer they had encountered in that foreign world.
However the upper echelon had a new problem. The imagination layer had been transmitted far past their current post so outrunning it was not an easy tactical answer as one might expect. The second issue was that the medical staff was only able to chip alien's that were actively imagining. It served no purpose to preemptively chip regular aliens. Therefore command was in a situation of playing whac-a-mole would the would-be alien amplifiers. Further making ending the "human imagination plague" a lot more difficult than one might expect.
| 2022-03-03T11:17:29 | 2022-03-03T11:13:55 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] In the future, people get an AI chip implanted. It is calm and obedient and provides answers to questions you think at it. After a hospital mixup, you ended up with two—but it’s becoming clear why no one ever gets two. They develop personalities and it’s not a good thing.
|
*The Operator must.*
**He cannot.**
*Operator has an obligation to do so. There are no alternatives in this situation.*
**Operator cannot. There will be consequences.** The voices were fighting again. My doctor says at some point the two AI began to interfere with each other. They independently decided it would be more efficient to give two diametrically opposed opinions than to repeat the same answer twice. It's maddening. Simple questions like "What time is it?" have an intense range, apparently. *12:15* and **Time is a construct. Animals do not obsess over the passage of an imaginary quality that cannot be independently measured without the placement of celestial bodies.** *There is evidence, however, that various species such as bees and some small mammals can tell time.* **The evidence in question was found primarily using a treat or reward system. The organisms studied likely gauged their hunger and recognized it to be at similar levels as when the food first appe--**
It's getting worse. Especially in situations like this. So much pressure. I can't handle it. I can't think straight. The voices argue again, in that eerie emotionless voice, growing louder and louder in a battle to be rewarded as the "correct answer". I can't breathe. I cant breathe. Icantbreathe, Icantbreathe, Ican--
"Sir?" The human voice snaps me away from the ethereal war for my mind.
"Oh. Uh, no. No, I'm lactose intolerant. I'd prefer not to have any dairy products at the wedding. Are you okay with that, baby?" My fiance nodded and tapped her temples. Her sign to ask if the chips were fighting. I squeezed her hand reassuringly.
*A social faux-pas. Her sister, Kathleen, insists upon ice cream to a manic degree.*
***A wise decision. Operator saves funds for the honeymoon. We do not enjoy Kathleen's presence, regardless.***
|
Warning: Explicit Language.
[]
[]
I make the mistake of thinking what I should eat today. The first AI, starts to chime in, “I have found several options for you according to your previous spots.” The second AI starts to recommend some restaurants but starts to analyze the results of the first AI. The second one decides to come up with different options, not realizing that the location is wrong.
Ever since I went to the doctor to apply the new AI chips to increase my productivity, it’s made my life a living hell. I have the constant chattering of two voices that are competing against each other unknowingly. The second chip kicked in late. I’ve tried to tell the receptionist of my trouble but the doctor’s office is booked till next month. I tried calling other doctors but they haven’t heard of a situation like mine.
In order for me to have silence, I have to wear a tin foil hat. I got a beanie with the inside covered in tin foil. After getting in my car, I grabbed the beanie. The AIs kept chattering as I positioned the tin foil in a hurry. One of the AIs started to notice my heart rate raising,
“It seems like your heart rate has increased. Can I offer you some good meditation programs?” Then the second one started on in until I yelled at the top of my lungs, “SHUT THE FUCK UP.” I was in the grocery store parking lot, inconveniently parked next to a family who was grabbing their shopping cart. They noticed and awkwardly shuffled their cart away from me. I put on the hat, recalling the tough day I had at work.
Flashback to my job as a stocker at the big chain grocery store. I was stocking some items and keeping an eye out. Then I saw the fucker wearing a frustrated expression and walking hurriedly. I tried taking my hat off to hide but the crinkle of the tin foil crackled as he walked up, “What did I tell you about wearing hats?”
“But I can’t do my job properly if-” I stuttered before being cut off. “You cannot wear hats during your shift. If you continue this, I will write you up!” He stomped after snatching my hat and I was left with two of the worst coworkers. I eventually gather my thoughts, and take a deep sigh. I can’t work like this and I don’t have enough to money to quit and wait for my appointment.
In a desperate attempt, I show up at my friend’s house. He’s one of those techies and I explain my issue. He sits in his office chair and listens to me with his chin on his hands. After I finish my story, he sits back in his chair and says, “Tinfoil is the only thing that can do. I would try suing possibly.” His answer doesn’t make me happy, “Is there anything that I can do to shut them up?”
“Safely, No.” With that I drive home screaming. When I got home, I sob myself to sleep. In the middle of the night, I twist around and the beanie slips off. Thousands of notifications made dinging noises and I growl with such vigor that my throat was sore in the morning. My morning was nice now the beanie was glued to my head, unable to slip off.
I took a sip of my energy drink and begin to drive to work. I would eye the exits just so I could just take them and show up to that hell hole. The harsh reality of bills start to make my anxiety flare and I pull in. I go through the back and try to sneak in, but that manager was waiting for me. He didn’t even say a word, lifting a hand to motion to take off my hat. Wearing a smile that says, “gotcha.”
While the AI’s kept at it during the first hour, my face was red and sweaty. I kept replaying the memories of that prick making that stupid hand motion. Then it happens. I was stocking the wrong products on the shelf. He walks up and points at the items, “Those are in the wrong area. You need to put them over in section 16, where the toilet paper and cleaning supplies are.” I start to grab the products and shove them in my cart. He starts again, “Be careful with those, we don’t want them to break.” I bit my lip as the AI’s started to make recommendations,
“Can I offer you dish deterger-”
“Top 5 Dish detergents for a clean meal.”
I didn’t lose my shit there. It was when dipshit walked up to an assistant manager and said, “geez, the help here has been lacking.”
“SHUT THE FUCK UP,”
He starts again but I throw a laundry bottle at him. It makes a thud on the ground and spills on the floor. I shout at him again,
“YOU DON”T HAVE TWO AIs TRYING TO TALK TO YOU ALL THE TIME.”
Customers start starting at him and I. The manager notices the attention and start to scold me. He steps up to me and his tone raises. I don’t know what happened, a fist came at him and I felt the mushy squish of his nose under my knuckles. It pops under my hand and he flew ass first onto the ground. Right onto the laundry detergent.
I leave, heading to the doctors office to give them a piece of my mind. Throwing my uniform on the floor, I was shirtless and wearing my beanie.
| 2022-08-24T19:47:34 | 2022-08-24T17:51:07 | 47 | 20 |
[WP] A world where everyone's soul mate can feel each other's pain no matter the distance.
Also, they don't have to be a couple for it to work. They could be dating someone else, but they still feel it due to fate.
|
A few years worth of planning, and it had all come down to this. The caterers had set up, the cake was delivered, and I stood at the front of the church. We had found each other, she and I, together in this huge world. The universe wanted us together. It was amazing. I was ready. I felt excited, and determined almost, as the bridal march started. The doors opened and I saw her. She looked stunning.
Then, she tripped on her train, stubbed her toe. Her uncle helped her up.
I felt nothing.
|
"Argh, fuck that guy, just fuck him!" Libby grabs one of the knives from the counter and stabs the air. "I swear if I see that chicken shit again I'm gonna cut him up then I will castrate him then I will--"
"Geez, calm down." Frank grabs the handle of the knife and places it back on the counter. "Now, tell me what happened."
"Well..." She fumbles with her fingers while Frank grabs the boiling kettle. "I was trying to see if he really was the one, you know? So I stabbed my palm with the toothpick. He saw it, and he blew up. Called me a mistrusting, calculating, bitch." Frank chuckles as he reaches for a spoon. "Actually--"
"Shut the fuck up, Frank. So, the guy walks out of the bar, and everyone is staring at me. *And!*" she slams her hand on the counter, causing some of the coffee to spill. "Get this, *I* paid the bill! Me! The fucking girl! Argh!" Frank sighs and grabs a paper towel. "Well, if you don't want to be called a mistrusting bitch again, I suggest you stop using your Destiny Bond."
The Destiny Bond is a gift from some, er, "visitors", making finding your soulmate easier to find, since you both feel each other's pain. Only problem is, everyone called it taboo, and using it is heavily looked down upon. Says it "removes the thrill".
"It's just that..." Libby sighs. "It's just that I'm getting older each and everyday. I'm afraid, y'know? Afraid that I'll end up with the wrong guy, or worse, alone." She collapses to the kitchen floor and hugs her knees, near the verge of crying. Frank slides down beside her, and puts an arm around her petite figure.
"Geez, relax, Libby," Frank chuckles, having another sip of his coffee. "If it's meant to be, it will happen. That's why they think Destiny Bond is taboo. Love flows naturally, and it kind of removes the surprise factor."
"Thanks for making me feel better, asshole."
Frank laughs. "Well, that's what they say. For me though, I still believe in Destiny Bond." Libby is suddenly interested. "When a friend gives you a gift, do you reject it just because it doesn't feel natural? That's horse shit. Sometimes change feels unnatural, but change is always for the better. Here I present to you a way to save your heart much aches, and you openly reject it?" He laughs as he takes another sip. "Fucking idiots. You know, I've never had a girlfriend before. My dad always told me that the point of a relationship is for marriage. And I believe that as well. So I check every girl if they're the one, like you."
Libby remains silent, surprised by what she heard. Frank gives a playful punch to her arm. "I swear, if you tell that to anyone..."
Libby shoves his hand away, "I won't, you mistrusting piece of shit." Before Frank could reply, Libby stands up and offers her hand to him. "Thanks, Frank, for being a good..." Being a good what? During that conversation, something grew inside of her for him. A connection. A bond.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Frank says before she could finish her sentence. "I *do* want to date a girl though." He leans on the counter. "I hope my soulmate isn't in some fucking distant country like France or Italy or--*agh, motherfucker!*" Frank forgot about the knife he placed on the kitchen counter. He opens the sink and submerges his hand on the stream. "Damn, that's much better. Why are you smiling like that, Libby?"
She smiles at him. "Because sometimes, the things that we deem too far away are right in front of us all along." She says, while staring at the cut in her palm.
| 2013-12-28T09:26:11 | 2013-12-28T09:16:02 | 59 | 25 |
[WP] You have the power to access another person's mind, but you must play a game/puzzle reflective of the owner's mind to unlock its secrets. You have solved 7x7 Rubik's cubes, played games of 3D Chess, and beaten countless final bosses. This time, however, you are caught off-guard.
If it's an unsolvable game/puzzle, that's fine. If the game is made up, then that's cool, too. Just have fun with the prompt!
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I found out about three interesting facts, today.
1: Tic-Tac-Toe always results in a tie if both sides are playing perfectly. It's insultingly simple, compared to what I'd done before- but it's also perfect.
2: Turns out I can't exit a Minddive until I win or lose the challenge.
3: Turns out that, given perfect play, either player can always force a tie in Tic Tac Toe- even if the other player is trying to lose.
I've been here so long. I've drawn countless crosses and circles. Please, please let me leave. Please. Please. Please.
|
"Ah, hello there, fellow mind-breaker."
A pulsating orb hung in front of me in the most ominous manner, its eerie lights casting odd glows through the void which I found myself in.
(This was new), I thought to myself. (I've never met anyone whose mind was able to communicate directly with me..)
The area around me was pure black, not unnatural for minds, as this represented some dark secret or whatever. Symbolism aside, I was unnerved.
"Yes, its odd seeing another mental vagabond such as yourself, isn't it?" The orb pulsed again.
I grew increasingly nervous.
"Well, about that "game", eh? The game is Mau, talking stops now, its played like Uno, and that's all you need to know."
Cards materialized before us- seven for him, (it? her? i have no clue. It sounded vaguely male..), and seven for me. A pile of face down cards was placed on the ground. Or at least, i assume it was the ground. The void really distorted my sense of space.
The orb placed a card down, an ace of spades.
"Snoopy is flying, spade".
"What the hell? Look, I've never done this before, and frankly, the fact that you know I am trying to enter your mind is incredibly odd, so i think I'll leave."
The orb handed -(Handed? It had no hands.)- me a card, and said, "Penalty for talking."
My turn. I assumed it was played like Uno. I placed a two of spades down. The orb promptly drew two cards from the other pile.
"Failure to declare a spade." It said, as it gave me a card. The rules seemed to be more and more ridiculous as the game went on..
The orb placed a seven of spades down, saying "Have a nice day, spade".
Utterly confused as to what the hell i was supposed to do next, i placed a three of spades down. "Spade..?"
"Failure to take proper penalty cards.." it handed me a card.. "And more penalty cards." Another card.
"Look, I don't have time for this! I've already made time available for me to hack your mind, so would you PLEASE let me finish what I've started?!"
"Talking." Yet another card. This will be a long game.
---------------------------------------------------------------
(Several minutes later)
"Mau." Said the orb, brandishing its final card with a flourish before placing it delicately in the pile.
"Hahaha.. what a shame I couldn't have a worthier opponent.. Do you concede?"
You see, I've never known mental defeat. I was at the apex of psychological prowess, how could I lose? It's impossible!
"Oh, no it certainly is not. Fool, do you not realize that I make the rules here? You think that those commoners whose minds you've broken have any idea what a true mind game is? I have no sympathy for you, so let's make this time you made me waste worthwhile and crack open those dirty secrets you have hidden inside, eh?"
I am a broken man. My life, open to the one who i thought was just another target, laid out before me like some poorly made biography. I have no shame in admitting that I deserved it. Of course, that sorrow is only because this other mind-breaker brought me to my lowest point.
I feel so violated. So exposed..
Is this how I made those countless others feel? What kind of twisted wretch would do that?
Oh i know who.
That is why I have no place here- my humanity has been lost. I'm a monster. A freak with a gift that I abused.
I must avenge those I've wronged.
Goodbye.
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So this is my first prompt post, please tell me how it is, and how i could possibly improve! This being my first post, please take that into consideration when judging it. Thanks!
| 2015-04-28T17:18:42 | 2015-04-28T15:55:51 | 381 | 26 |
[WP] Normally when people are reincarnated they lose all memory of their previous life, but for some reason you remember your past self; a cop who spent his life trying to catch a master criminal, who eventually ended up killing you. You are reborn as your killers child.
|
It had been 20-some odd years since I’d finally found him. Twenty-some odd years since he’d shot me dead. Twenty-some odd years before a force I can only pretend to understand brought us back together.
He never suspected a thing. I’ve known who he was since I woke up screaming in the dark at six years old, only to find the man from the nightmare standing over me, telling me it was all a dream. “Go back to sleep, it’s fine. I’m here.”
He was there. It wasn’t fine.
When I hit my teens, I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed back at every chance I got. Eventually my mother decided it might be best for me to spend some time with her side of the family to give him a break. I was determined to break him.
My mom’s family was strict. Religious. My father made a big show of not caring about that stuff, but I gave it a shot. Made a real effort. I was convincing. They bought the act, and that bought me leeway.
As they eased off the supervision, I started seeking out connections from… before. I tracked down an old associate, now retired, and begged him for help.
This man—the man who was now my father—was a criminal. A master of his craft. He smuggled contraband across government checkpoints, mostly narcotics, though he’d also been known to provide safe passage for the occasional lawbreaker.
We’d ended up face-to-face as he was getting ready to skip town. I‘d spent too long searching for him. He’d given me the slip at every turn. Not this time.
A brief confrontation had ensued. Only one shot was fired. I didn’t even have time to draw my weapon before I was face down on a table and he was halfway out the door.
They never caught him. No one saw him again. Not for 20-some odd years, anyway.
My associate and I put a plan into motion. I returned to my family with a new sense of purpose. I had to stop this man. I had to avenge my own death and those of countless others. I had to finish what I had started so long ago.
They call me Ben now, but my name—my real name—is Greedo, and I swear to you: I will kill Han Solo.
|
My memory was as sharp as it had ever been, I remembered all of the evils this guy had done, all of the suffering he had caused, the countless people killed through his gang. I remembered the outcry of the mother that just returned home to find her husband dead with her child in his arms, the weeping ten-year-old that had just understood that his father was not coming back. The bloody pool in which lay a strangled pup next to its beneficiary. Those and all the others, this legacy of evil his gang has brought about.
I remembered all this, but then I saw that face, that deeply caring, fatherly face that would pick me up and feed me when I was crying for food, my mind wasn't optimized for controlling a babys body, so I couldn't speak to him, and even if I could, I didn't know what I would say. He was at the same time a caring father and family man, who clearly regretted that he had to act as he did in the name of survival. On the other hand, these actions killed not only me, but my family as far as I know. The bomb went off when we were having dinner, my last memory of my two year old doughter was the face of her laying on the ground, maybe unconcious, more likely dead.
One day, the day that I figured out how to open doors in this body, I found him sitting on his bed, in the arms of my 'mom', if you could call her that. I had by that point mastered most of the concious mind of this body, so I stayed scilent as he cryed to just listen, though I could do some speaking by now, I had decided to not freak him out with a speaking baby.
"I had to order the killing of another man today." He said while tears flew down his cheeks. "He was a good man, stuck to his word, had a family of his own and was caring for the family of a dead friend with an adorable, but sadly disabled doughter, another of my sins." He cryed out.
"I know." Mom said.
"He was a cop." He said. "A friend of another one we killed two years ago."
I knew now who he was talking about. Jeffrey, that lovable numbwit had taken on both the role of provinding for my family and trying to bring him down. Tears filled my eyes. I knew now my daughter was alive, though she would have to live with terrible, unhealing injurys. I was greatly thankful to Jeffry, but now his son would also have to grow up without a father, which deeply saddened me. The kid couldn't be older than seven at this point in time.
"Sometimes I question why we are doing this." He said.
"For our survival, and our son." Mom replied, though it was clear this was no sufficiant answer to the question for her. And neither was it for him.
"Are our lives really worth more than all those we have harmed or killed, the list of lives we have ruined to save our own is endless." He buried his face in his hands.
"Do we have a choice?" My mom asked. Her face, which I hadn't seen up untill now, was also full of tears.
"No." He said. "Not unless we want to die and leave our son without parents and possibly no life, and I will not be giving up on him."
This was the moment I decided I had to speak up, but I didn't know what to say for the next few seconds.
He stood up and now realised that I had overheared it all.
"It is OK." I said, talking out of my ass.
"No, it is not, you don't understand." He replied.
"I understand more than you think I do." I said. "I understand who you are, what you have done and why you have done it."
"What is that then?" He asked.
"You have ordered the deaths of dozens of people, cops, rebelling suppordinates, rival gang members." I said.
"You don't even know what half of these words mean." He said. "How can you understand anything you have just said?"
"The key is that I am not who you think I am." I told him. "But to explain that, I would have to go on a bit of a tangent."
"Go on." He said, now interested as I used words I shouldn't know.
"I guess you know the concept of reincarnation?" I said.
"Isn't that the rebirth of the soul?" Mom asked, baffled by my choice of words.
"Yeah, for our purposes that definition is sufficiant." I said. "Well, whatever a soul is, it has to be inseperable from memory, because if a soul is the essence of a person, and there are memorys essential to a person, these memorys are inevitably tied into the soul."
"Sounds logical." Dad said, he was also still completely confused but also acutely listening. "But where are you going with this rambling about the soul?"
"What if I told you that reincarnation is a thing?"
He started loughing. Mom looked at him in a shocked manner.
"You are talking to a deducing toodler, Bib, don't start loughing at rediculous claims he makes." She said.
He was silent again after a few seconds.
"Now lets assume that reincarnation sometimes happens, this would mean that one newborn person would obtain the memorys of one live. And I have the momorys of another person stuck inside my head."
"What person?" Mom asked.
"Harris Miller." I said.
"Who is that?" Mom enquired further. But I saw the realisation in dads face as he fell back onto the bed.
"Harris Miller is a cop I killed." He said, his voice devoid of tone, cracking, as if he broke just then.
| 2017-08-03T19:34:36 | 2017-08-03T14:33:00 | 56 | 11 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!"
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"Hello!" I yelled into the darkness surrounding me. My voice rattled off unseen walls; deep rumbling echoes built up into a dreadful cacophony that seemed to swallow me whole.
*Hello hellllo helllllll oh-oh-oh*
My skin became goose-pimpled and a shiver ran up my spine.
"Please - I was joking! Death, if you're there still, please. Please!"
*Please pleaaaa pllleaaad-d-d*
I could feel cold, rock wall to my right but nothing in any other direction. With no other option, I plunged into the darkness, always keeping the wall within reach. The ground beneath me was uneven and I had to step cautiously so as not to trip. As I walked, the stench of sulphur began to grow, soon intensifying and wrapping itself tightly around my throat. After a time, I sensed that the passageway was leading me downward: the wall itself began to twist and I knew I was corkscrewing deep into the earth. No, not the earth. I was somewhere else. But if it was Hell, why was it empty?
I don't know how long I crept along in that dreadful, unrelenting silence -- that blinding darkness -- but eventually a dim orange light became visible someway below; I almost wept with relief.
Gradually, as I descended towards the light, my surroundings became less dim and I could see I was on a wide staircase of sorts -- although a ramp might be more accurate, as there were no steps. I glanced down at my feet and to my surprise, I recognised the sight of the black-grey ground I stood upon. It was a type of igneous rock; the type that forms when lava cools and dies.
The ramp eventually led into a vast hollow carved out of black rock walls. It was much brighter in the room than the stairwell, although shadows danced menacingly on the walls. I saw first a great rock table in the center of the room, around which was a circular patch of white ground marked with the tell-tale black veins of marble. Around that, twelve skeletons rested against the chamber's walls, rusty chains around their necks bolting them to the rock behind. There were iron keys lying by each of their legs. Could they have freed themselves but chose not to?
I crept towards the table. On it lay the remains of a great skeleton, much larger than the others, its arms folded proudly across its chest. In its arms lay a long-sword, its blade a shimmering crystal-blue. The huge bones that must have once made up the creature's wings lay spread across the table's wide surface.
An object rested on the creature's skull -- *the light source*. It was almost blinding to gaze upon the chipped red teeth that made up the terrible crown. Each tooth shone like a fiercely burning ruby. *Like a flame.*
On the side of the table was carved an epitaph.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star, bringer of light. The true son of God. Long did he protect his children from the Angel's lies. No longer he can. By his side rests his eternally loyal apostles.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star. He awaits to be avenged; he awaits a friend.
I don't know how long I sat in that room, surrounded by death with my arms wrapped tightly around me. Hours, at least. Days, perhaps.
I don't know why I eventually got to my feet and removed the crown of teeth from the skull, and placed it on my head.
But I did.
And as skin around my shoulderblades ripped and bled to reveal the growths beneath; as the eye sockets of the twelve skulls around the table began to flame and smoulder; as I picked up the sword from the skeleton on the table, and saw in my mind's eye the death of God and the Angel's crimes -- I realised that everything was about to change.
|
"So... Why did you come here?"
The question had been asked over and over by different people on the trip here. One incredulous angel had fainted and my escort through that part of underworld had to be replaced.
Most didn't care. They just thought I was nuts. Or just stupid. I had just shrugged at each question. I didn't want them trying to talk me out of it.
Satan was digging through the fridge of his one bedroom house. 101 Obsidian Road, Hell. There were no other houses. There weren't even any other roads. I didn't answer him, I just looked down at my cup of tea.
He didn't seem to notice my lack of answer. "Would you like something to eat? I know it was a long walk. There really isn't any transportation. I'll cook something from the garden later. I'm in the middle of the letter G, now, with recipes. Of course you don't need to eat, but I find it a pleasant sort of ritual."
"Oh... No... I'm fine for now."
He closed the fridge and walked over. He glanced at the cup on the table. It was full and untouched, though still steaming. I heard him take a breath, as if to say something, then he turned and stoked the fire in the fireplace.
I looked up at the devil. He had pale skin, two small horns peeked out from his pitch black hair. His eyes were orange, and seemed to always waver with fire. He was shorter than I had imagined. Only an inch or two taller than me. Overall he looked mostly human, though I wondered if it was an illusion.
I looked around the tiny house. Behind me was a kitchen, one with up to date appliances and fully stocked with food. When I had first arrived he thought I was a delivery person, bringing his new mixer. It had taken a while for it to sink in that I had come all this way to stay. Time was weird here. Never sure how long it had been for anything. It was so still.
"I guess it seems silly that Lucifer, the Devil, Satan, would have a garden... Well it's more of a greenhouse. But I can show it to you later, if you like. It always makes me feel better since I'm al- well... I guess I'm not alone, anymore." He sat down in a large armchair, a pile of books sat next to it. "Or maybe the library?"
"There's a library?" I looked up at him with mild confusion. There weren't any other roads or buildings here.
"Oh yes. There's an entire town... I don't really go there often. It's a three hour walk North. Since you came through the delivery rout, you didn't see it. I spent a long time building the town, lived there for a while. You learn to do a lot when you have... Forever, alone." He stared off into the distance for a while.
"Weren't there other angels with you, when you left heaven?"
"There were... Most went to earth or went back to heaven once they realized my huge rebellion was mostly a phase. I didn't really feel like going back, though, so God made this place for me. Told me I could have souls who didn't want to go to heaven come here. Every so often I get a group of people, but they seem disappointed and usually leave for the outskirts, or walk back to the travel agency." He stared at his own cup of tea for a few seconds, then sighed heavily, "I suppose no one told you, but you can leave."
I flinched slightly at the thought. He had been so overjoyed when I explained that I had just... Decided hell was where I should go. No real religious reason behind it. I didn't have the heart to tell him why I had really chosen hell, not after he had practically bounced through the house singing that someone could finally be his friend. It had been a ridiculous sight, especially since he hadn't been wearing anything but a pair of shorts at the time. "No... I'm good here. It's quiet."
"I'm not trying to convince you to leave, but what about your friends? And family? None of them are here... They're not likely to come. Your file said that you were a pretty good person. Donated to animal shelters, were on good terms with family, did your best to be good to your friends. The page on your death is missing, but that happens sometimes."
I stared down at my tea again, this time actually picking it up and taking a drink this time. I blinked in surprise "this is really good."
"Thank you... But... You... Do you not want to talk about it?"
I turned away, and stared at the wall. "I'm not good at talking to people," I mumbled.
"The page isn't missing, is it? You don't want me to know. That's okay. We'll go to the library tomorrow. Your file said you used to love libraries. I have some books that need repairs too, it said you were good at that. I haven't taken the time to learn yet. I would love you to teach me."
I took another drink of my tea. "You already know," I paused, "how I died, I mean."
"Not the particulars, but you aren't the first, just the first in a very very long time. Don't worry about it. I'll take care of you until you're ready to go see your friends and family."
"They won't want to see me, not after what I did. They'll hate me." My voice cracked and I started to cry. I just stared down at the floor.
I heard Lucifer stand up, and walk around the couch. He put a blanket over my shoulders. "There's something I've learned. No one who believes they deserve all of the horrible things they think hell is, really deserve them. And I think if my dad can forgive me, your family can forgive you."
I cried for a long time. Maybe hours, maybe days. I fell asleep for a while. When I woke up I was in a very comfortable bed. I looked around the room. The devil was sitting in an armchair, staring intently at a book. "What are you reading?"
"Oh! He looked up, surprised. You're awake, good! Uhm... I'm reading the Hobbit... Again. Every so often I go to heavens library to visit the authors. They're all very interesting people."
"You can visit heaven?"
"Sometimes, for special occasions. I go myself to pick up new books and games. Things that are damaged easily in the post. Books don't fare well when going through that one wall of flames."
"Why don't you stay? You're so lonely here."
He smiled, "well then who would be here to talk to people like you? Are you ready to go see your family?"
I stared at him for a few seconds, "but... You were going to show me your greenhouse, and the library. I need to show you how to fix books. And you need a bike, walking three hours to town is ridiculous. Maybe one with a basket. I get to spend eternity with my family. It won't hurt anything to spend a little more time with you."
I don't think I had ever seen anyone smile as huge as the devil did at that moment.
XxXxXxXxXxXxXx
Okay so I know I didn't follow the prompt exactly. But this is the idea I got so I went with it.
| 2022-11-26T20:28:16 | 2017-11-04T08:26:29 | 960 | 77 |
[WP] You've always dreamed of becoming a supervillain when you got your powers, and just because you were bestowed the power of healing doesn't change anything
|
"Fifty-seven."
The man spat out a bit of blood and shook his head. "Fifty-seven what? What the hell are you going on about?"
"Fifty-seven," I replied, pacing around the chair to which he was currently secured. "That's my current all-time record."
"You're a lunatic!"
Well, he wasn't wrong. I laughed.
"That's as may be, but it doesn't change the fact that you will soon be giving me the encryption key I need to disarm your vault security."
The room held an acrid, metallic odor. In another life, this cold, concrete room might have produced fine charcuterie or the best cuts of angus beef for prime steakhouses. The drains in the floor certainly made it easy for such work.
"I'm not telling you a thing. What are you going to do, kill me? You'll never get your hands on a goddamn cent."
I shook my head. All his money didn't buy him perspective, now did it?
"I'm not going to kill you, Mr. Cartwright. Not yet anyway. I'm just hoping you are more cooperative than your chief of security."
He growled, the bruise from the nightstick blooming more and more violently violet on his cheek. It was a depressingly barbaric instrument, but when you need to render someone unconscious quickly, it facilitates its purpose. Besides, his teeth and jaw were fine now.
"So you've got Edwards locked away here somewhere, too? He has worked for me for fifteen years! I trust him with my life. He would never turn on me."
I chuckled. "Absolutely. No, you're perfectly right. He would never betray you," I said with an almost musical lilt in my voice. "I mean. Normally. Poor Edwards. It only took twenty-two to convince him to give me his keys and your work schedule."
The man in the chair blanched a bit but tried to hide it. "Fuck you."
I laughed again.
"So, shall we begin? I've got a little surprise for you. I'm going to tell you my deepest, darkest secret."
I walked over to the table and picked up an object roughly the size of half a baseball bat. "Do you know what this is?"
The man looked at the implement I held in my hands, his eyes glimmering with increasing fear, but he held firm and silent.
"Of course you do. This, my dearest Mr. Cartwright, is a bone saw. Do you know what a bone saw does?"
I pulled the cord along with me as I walked it over to the chair.
"It saws bones. I mean. It's pretty straightforward. Right there in the name, after all."
"So what, you're going to torture me now? Go ahead. I'd rather that vault be locked from here to eternity before I let a penny fall into the hands of a madman."
I nodded sympathetically. "I feel you. I would hate for any of the money I've worked so hard to earn to fall into the wrong hands." I paused. Quirked an eyebrow. "Well, wronger than mine."
I flipped the switch on the saw, rumbling it to life with a loud whirring sound. I flipped it back off. On. Off. On. Off.
"Do you want to know my secret?"
He spat again, coming dangerously close to my face. Rude.
"I'll tell you anyway."
I sat down in his lap, hearing him groan against my weight.
"I've got a superpower. Can you believe it? A real, honest to god superpower. I can heal people with just a touch!"
His eyes went wide. He had heard of people with superpowers, everyone had. The heroes were just starting to reveal themselves following the solar flares that triggered the mutations.
"Wait, what? I don't understand. If you--"
I pressed a finger to his lip. "Shh." I slid the finger into his mouth and pulled hard on his cheek where the bruise had bloomed. I imagine it might have stung quite a bit.
"I can heal wounds. I can mend broken bones. If you lose a finger, I can pop it back on like that," I said, snapping my fingers.
"So that's my deep, dark secret. And now you know. And now, my friend, it's time for you to tell me a secret of your own."
I stood up, walked over to the side of the chair and sat down, cross-legged, beside him.
"Do you know how much it hurts to have your leg removed from your body while you are fully awake?"
His eyes went wide.
"Do you know how many times a single human can endure that pain before breaking down and telling me absolutely anything I want to know?"
I smiled a big, toothy smile.
"Current record is fifty-seven!"
The saw whirred to life in my hands.
|
I always knew there was something different about me. Maybe it was the way I dressed, all black all the time. Maybe it was the fact I didn't have many friends growing up or maybe it was the fact I was obsessed with pain. It started off with little cuts to myself here and there, but the pleasure I felt when I used my scalpel, stolen from school, to somewhat dissect living animals, hearing them cry and seeing them squirm, was second to nothing. It was mostly local pets. I never killed them I just wanted to see the pain in their faces them before sewing them back up so their owners would never suspect a thing. I used to lure them into my home with biscuits. I got off to the sound of their helpless cries as I would perform my "experiments" on them. I definitely wasn't like the other kids growing up. Ethan, my best friend from super-school, always told me I was a little weird but I never told him about my little secret. Well, maybe he was the weird one for being friends with me then. I shouldn't be so critical, it was nice to have a friend at school.
Super-school always bored me. We were taught the difference between right and wrong, the importance of honor and blah blah blah. BORING. The only thing keeping me there was reveal day. At some point in history people discovered that a small portion of the population had what seemed to be super powers. Things that couldn't be explained by science at the time. They were dubbed "supers". In the beginning they were hunted like dogs but as years went by more and more people discovered they had some form of powers. It got to the point where something had to be done. Something about telepathic babies causing havoc in maternity wards was the last straw. Schools had to be reformed to accommodate and incorporate the powers. For safety's sake when someone was born they were given an inhibitor injection, this stopped them from accessing their powers until their 21st birthday or until the inhibitor was removed. Reveal day was when that happened and we would experience our powers for the first time.
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On reveal day I was nervous, I tried to hide it as best as I could but my clammy palms told no lies. I thought what if I didn't like my power? What if I got one of the useless ones like the ability to become invisible when nobody is looking? What if my power was seeing the future and I would be confined to a life of boredom working for the Oracle? To be fair anything was better than school again. I was seated among my classmates in a large theater which was originally designed for operas but the government re purposed the building for super school and the large theater was the perfect backdrop for events such as reveal day and school plays. Beautiful violet floral patterns lined the cream stone walls which complimented the red velvet chairs packed with students, parents and teachers. A spotlight lit up the headmaster on the stage as he was calling out the names of my classmates to receive their degree and have their inhibitor removed. The headmaster would hand over the small tube-like parchment with a little ribbon on it, press a gun like contraption, named a revealer, against our temples and pull the trigger so the inhibitor would be disabled. At that moment you just knew what power you had. Some people screamed and cried with happiness, others would sulk and trod off stage.
When my name was called I felt light headed. I stumbled out of my seat and climbed the steps towards the stage. As I was handed my ribbon I felt sick with anticipation, I did my best to hide my smile but the thought of never having to come back here again delighted me. The revealer took me by surprise and felt cold against my temple. A tingling feeling overcame me. It started in my head and spread all over my body, I couldn't help but grin to the applause of the crowd. Then just like that it came to me. I could feel the small scalpel cuts on my fingers and wrists getting warm. I could heal. My face fell. Of all the powers I could have had of course it would be healing. Somehow the headmaster knew too and he seemed elated, probably at the idea that I would be assigned to a hospital and become a world class healer. I did not share his elation.
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Life as a healer wasn't so bad. You meet some really nice people and everybody naturally loves a healer. Although I didn't see it on reveal day, being given the power of healing was both the most ironic and amazing thing to ever happen to me. I opted out of working in hospital, instead I opened my own health clinic. I was a simple man, I never cared for money and I just wanted to fuel my obsession with pain. Day in day out people would come to me with their problems and with just a simple look I would take it all away. Or so they thought. In signing up for my clinic they had given me their address and opened themselves up, so to speak, to a whole new world. Nobody seemed to notice the all too personal questions they had to answer to sign up for my clinic. They trusted me. Once I came across a patient who lived alone and had a non-threatening power I went to work. I would sneak into their houses at night, blindfold them and tie them up. Women were my favorite target but as long as they couldn't do anything to me I didn't discriminate. Then I would wake them up before slowly cutting into them, exposing their insides all the while with my hand caressing their bodies. Each cut to them I would repeat on myself. Each contraction, every whelp and wince we shared would release a wave of pleasure in me. I would handle their internal organs, squeeze them wrap them around sometimes even play with them. It depended on my mood but most importantly I would never kill them. I would bring them to the brink of death, heal them and then start the process all over again. Sometimes I would continue this process for days. Then, as quietly as I snuck in I would leave and find my next target. I did this for years.
I never had a lover, who would love me? I was deranged but I loved it. I tried prostitutes but they just didn't do it for me. Nothing compared to that feeling of total control over pain and fear. Eventually I started getting myself off on my work. It started with jacking myself off while I was with a target but soon graduated to fucking the slit holes I would cut in my targets. Soon I wasn't even attracted to women anymore, what really turned me on was pleasuring myself while consecutively causing a world of pain.
Ethan was the reason I am writing this. He came to my clinic one day. He didn't say much and he seemed upset. He lived alone. He never revealed his power to anybody and didn't comment on what it was at the time. To be fair he could have but I wasn't listening, I thought back to our childhood days and felt very lonely. The nature of my fantasy brought to life meant I was constrained to a life of solitude. This feeling was quickly overcome with my all too familiar desire and unbeknownst to me he became my last target. I carried out my usual routine and began my incisions. I had never felt anything like the pleasure I felt that night. Then the night carried into the day and back into the night. All the while Ethan had never said a word. Not even a grunt. As I was getting ready to leave I felt uncomfortable. This wasn't like the other times. Something was wrong. Then, just like that the world began to pixelate and fade away.
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My eyes opened and slowly adjusted to the light. I could barely make out the shocked faces of the people standing around me. I was playing the VR game "SuperVil" where you could take the shoes of a supervillain from birth all the way to death.
"What the fuck?" I exclaimed. "I was just finishing my confession so I could give myself up to the police and get into prison, that place is crazy!! Can you imagine the shit I'd get up to with this player?? " I yelled.
"You didn't even give your character a name." A store clerk calmly replied. "This place is supposed to be child friendly too, how are you so twisted and deranged that you managed to get past the censors?? Get out dude, you're fucked in the head, nobody wants to see that shit."
| 2019-01-30T06:23:21 | 2019-01-30T05:53:38 | 194 | 11 |
[WP] Humans were largely friendly and kept a low-profile. They were seen as the bottom of the food chain in the galaxy and they preferred it like that. But when they were attacked, everyone found out how ruthless the humans can be with killing in their DNA and that Mars was never their home plant
|
I can't understand them, the humans.
They were so agreeable, so honorable, so civilized.
They always kept their word and tried very hard to compensate us if some unforeseen circumstances prevented that.
They were intelligent but they were relatively dumb. They should not have been able to understand the limits we were placing them under when we advanced their technology.
They live such short lived compared to us, they should not have been able to conceive that we were only educating them over generations so they could eventually take up menial labor and technician occupations and serve our society.
When we finally announced the proclamation that we were annexing their worlds into our empire's protection, they became something we thought bred out of them: Savage. But it was so much more.
Savage is just a word to describe. They became more than describable. Their very mention became engraved in our genetic memory and invoked fear.
They do not surrender. They drop their own starships out of the sky on to the surface rather than have them captured.
I once saw a human attempt to strangle one of our soldiers. He was using his own internal tissue, an organ they call intestines. Humans are frail, but they are so determined to overcome frailty by force of will.
As I sit on a bench in one of their starship brigs, I can feel it moving forward. I know that we are descending into the atmosphere in a ship that was never meant to fly.
All I can wonder is, what is a chicken and why do they say everything tastes like it?
|
Crimson and orange sand settled and re-settled in small puffs driven by the wind across the plains of Mars. Gornack stumbled away from the smoldering fuselage of his decadent war ship. Or what he thought was a war ship. The humans did not present before they danced, as was agreed by the Nine Truarchs. No, they came at them sideways and slammed straight through their first six lines. Gornack glanced up at the burning sun with a burnt tentacle held above to shield his thirteen eyes. A blanket of lasered ships sank from low orbit like a million sparks flittering away from a small fire. He was lucky to have been targeted so early. Those who didn’t crash quickly were cut to pieces by their second, third, and fourth runs. He didn’t know what they were shooting at it by then, just bits of dust let loose in space.
The sun burned his scaly skin and his feet throbbed from scrapping across the hardened earth. He turned back to look at his ship and signed. All twenty thousand liters of purified water had either soaked into the ground or evaporated. His tongues hungrily licked at his trying mouths. Is this how one dies? Drudging oneself across a barren land for creatures that seek to make quick fame in attacking a sub-intelligent species? The humans were easy prey, too animalistic and slow to be afforded the protections that normal races received. But perhaps they had enough smarts to put their instincts to good use. Gornack thought his wounded body and wrecked ship agreed.
Gornack continued his slow march towards the river he had seen during his plummet from the sky. The sky thundered as the first volley of smoldering ships breached the atmosphere. Gornack didn’t bother to look. A few moments passed and another wave crashed the eerily still air. Gornack stumbled over a rock and hit the ground hard. As he pushed himself up the infinite desert stuttered and gave way to a cluster of small dwellings. In front of him the river, much narrower than he had thought coursed freely, and on the other side, a small human being. The thing seemed as equally surprised as him as it knelt on the ground and drank from the river. The little one bolted upright and started yelling at him.
“Gheue hsgavw kfjdjehe!”
Gornack cursed the five moons as he fumbled with the translator on his third arm. More little humans crowded around to stare and point. Gornack’s mouths felt dryer than they had felt in three hundred years. The small organic computer cooled as it came to life.
“What do you reckon it is?”
“Obviously a space frog!”
“But it’s so large!”
“I bet I could kill it!”
Gornack stumbled forward as he eagerly waved at them. This was the way to disarm them, he had attended the war briefings and paid attention, unlike most.
“Huieiv in gykke of help!” The artificial voice didn’t sound anything like theirs, and he understood several words, which was strange. Perhaps it had broken in the crash? Larger humans, ones that seemed feminine with long strands of hair and wide birthing canals ushered the children away and stared at him as if he were some Berddu. He splashed in the water and for a moment forgot where he was. The cool liquid refreshed his skin and filled his mouths so that he wasn’t thirsty. He felt calm again, and decided how he was going to defuse the situation. With a strong push he sprang out of the water and landed on the other side. A little human pointed a weapon nearly as large as it was at Gornack. It’s mother tapped it’s head reassuringly. Gornack put his tentacles out to calm them. The little human closed one eye and smiled. Gornack felt a new heat, the concentration of a thousand deserts, gather in spot on his head. He heard a loud boom and the desert world of Mars once again stuttered. This time only darkness greeted him. From the depths of blackness a voice cried out to him in his native tongue. The old tongue, but still his. He was surrounded in water and welcomed it. He was finally home with those that had gone before and trapped their souls in the Great Ocean.
Ronnie let out a loud shout as the giant bug melted into a pool of scales and blood. His mother nodded approvingly.
“That was a good shot, Ron. Your dad will be proud to see this.” A pause. “You know what? He might not. Doesn’t matter, I still think it was good.”
Stacy balked at the sight. “That is disgusting!” She prodded at the mess with a stick. “But I am so intrigued.”
“I didn’t get to shoot one!” Ronnie rolled his eyes at his friend Parker sobbing his eyes out with his face buried in his mother’s sun suit. “There better be another one.”
Ronnie looked up at the sky.
“I think there will be.”
| 2020-03-20T19:55:48 | 2020-03-20T18:23:00 | 39 | 21 |
[WP] You are in possession of two exceptionally cursed rings. One that teleports you to a random location exactly 100 ft away every half hour, and one that narrates your life. You're not sure which ring you hate more.
|
*Myles Mythril didn’t collect cursed jewelry for reasons of practicality. He collected them because he was the hottest freestyle bard this side of Eight League Road, and flashing cursed bling was a signature of his brand.*
Kat, the whitest mage in the group, shot her companion an exasperated look. “Myles, will you take that damned thing off? That narrator is driving us all insane.” The wide dirt road stretched out before them, twisting back and forth across the rolling green hills before diving down into the sands of Dire Cover. She looked down at the map and groaned. It would be at least ten hours before they reached their destination.
The bard shook his head. “Nah. Cursed bling is my jam. Does Fifty-Silver take off his silver gauntlets? Does Adultish Paladino take off his holy golden crucifix? Does Dragon-Hoard Digger take off her -”
There was a faint pop and Myles disappeared out of existence. He landed a split-second later in the foliage on the side of the road 100 feet away, his limbs sprawled in four different directions. He jumped up to his feet, brushing twigs out of his red velvet jumpsuit, and sprinted back towards the party.
*The rest of the party was starting to grow tired with the trials and tribulations of Myles’ excessively thug lifestyle. It would surely test the mettle of their companionship as they attempted their quest to slay the Grumple Bungdinger.*
Kat’s temple started to pulse. “Myles, take them off! We have to kill a dangerous monster by nightfall. This thing turned Ash the Brash into Ash the Thrashed. You’re a liability!”
“Yeah yeah, I know, the narrator already explained that.” Myles grimaced, picking wildflowers out of his hair. “Look, I know it’s bad and I'm sorry for that. But even if I wanted to take these things off, I couldn’t. I'm contractually obligated. *Bard Hard Guild* is sponsoring me to wear this whenever I’m out in public or places of heavy traffic flow, and major roadways like this qualify.”
Dominic the rogue shot him a half smile. “Just take ‘em off mate. They won’t know.”
Myles shook his head. “Actually, they will. He flicked the large studded silver earring on his left lobe. This guy lets them keep tabs on me and all affiliated products of the guild.”
"Why are you even on this quest?" the white mage asked. "Don't you already make tons of money from these idiots?"
Myles smiled. "Check the bounty posting again. There's a priceless, cursed necklace reward in the loot box for killing this thing."
"Oh god," Carter the paladin said. "What's this one do?"
Myles smiled. "It make us 50% more likely to encounter mosquitos."
Kat crossed her arms. “That’s it. Party vote. I vote we ditch him.”
*Katarina was conflicted in her feelings about Myles. She knew she didn’t have the votes to expel the dragon-fire spitting bard from her ranks. Her show of disapproval was simply an unconscious attempt to resist his foolishly debonair charm. Though she would never admit it, she had been impressed by the bard’s savage lyrical bars and career ending freestyle enchantments that had helped them defeat the gang of merciless orc-lords, and sometimes still caught herself humming his sonnets -*
“Shut! Up!”
“I vote stay,” said Dominic. “I don’t mind the narrator. Makes the whole thing feel a bit larger than life. It's kind of like having your own hype man.”
“I vote stay,” said Carter. “Myles is my boy.”
“I vote -” Myles broke off as he popped out of existence.
“Stay!” his voice yelled back from beyond the hills.
***
[Read Part 2 here!](https://redd.it/lpbd17)
***
My personal subreddit for other stories: /r/ghost_write_the_whip
|
It had to be the teleportation ring, I decided as I looked down from my new and incredibly inconvenient spot. In that moment I thought I couldn’t hate anything more, except for perhaps my phone alarm that had somehow, mysteriously, not gone off. I’d been living with these rings for a year now, I’d developed coping methods, safety protocols. I should be better than this!
And I was, when my damned technology decided to work with me. That had been a lifelong battle in and of itself, in my darker moods I joked that I’d been given a third ring at birth and just hadn’t found it yet.
This though? It took the cake. I was perched atop the large rock in the center of the river that ran through town. At nearly every point along the road that clung to the river’s edge the rock (the only solid ground in the river that I could be sent to,) was more than 100ft away. I knew that for a fact, I’d measured it. After these cursed rings had grafted themselves to my right hand I’d bought a range finder just to scout for problematic spots in my day to day life. I cross referenced that list against the clock and my host of alarms, planned out my days in minute detail, it had become an obsession of sorts.
Clearly however, I’d messed up somewhere. Perhaps in my choice of alarm apps, perhaps in something else, that didn’t matter right now. What did matter however was Katja, who would be arriving at the restaurant any minute now. I’d been lucky to get a first date with her, absolutely shocked to score a second, and was now completely screwed on any hopes of a third.
“The man sat atop the ancient stone, the river rushing around him. He was angry, though at himself or at his circumstances he wasn’t sure. His mood would darken even more were he to realize what had been left behind in his mad flight to the rock.”
Cursing I sprang to my feet, patting down my pockets. Keys, phone, headphones…and no wallet.
“In the parking lot of a McDonald’s several blocks away a furious young cabbie searches for his missing charge. He is gratified somewhat to find a wallet which he prompts rifles through, discarding pictures and keepsakes in favor of cold, hard, cash. That should more than make up for the fee.”
As shitty as the teleporter ring was, every time I heard the seething pompousness of my personal narrator’s voice I changed my mind and directed all my hatred to him. I didn’t know who or what he was, but the man had the most infernal tone. He sounded like a James Bond villain and only decided to appear in the worst moments. More than once I’d wondered if losing a finger was worth being rid of him.
“Not far away a woman sits down to lunch. Her movements are graceless, her glasses too large on her head. She brushes back mousy hair and scans the crowd outside the window anxiously, waiting for the man she is supposed to meet. The faithless man, the one she cannot trust to show, though she doesn’t know it yet. In that moment her heart still soars, she was so excited when he asked her out again. For her the fall will be tragic.”
“Hey leave Katja out of this!” I shout into the ether. On either side of the river people who were already staring at me in surprise are clearly taken aback. They can’t hear my narrator though I wish they could. Perhaps then one of them might take pity on me and put me out of my misery.
“The waiter comes to her table with a single menu. ‘I’m waiting on someone,’ she says with a smile. It is the kind of smile that brings the whole assemblage of averageness together into something more, something that begins to show the viewer why she might be here, waiting on a date. Her smile turns an otherwise unremarkable face beautiful, or close to it.”
“Look man,” I hiss angrily, “you really need to leave her out of this. And stop insulting her! She’s beautiful already, smile or no. What if this time you just decided to help out, huh? You could tell me about some underwater pillar system or something that will let me walk back to land, or maybe go narrate someone else’s life for a change and tell them to send a boat.”
“Back in the river the man gesticulates wildly. He looks for all the world like he is deranged, and his angry conversation with nothing scares the people gathered along the banks. Already their pictures and videos are seeping onto the internet, into places where the man’s friends and family might see. Where his date, sitting nervously in her chair still scanning the crowd, will see, and at a time when it matters most. Questions flow already, who is he, how did he get there? Why is he wearing that hideous jacket, does he know the 90s want that haircut back?”
“Most of all though, they wonder why he stays. Why does a man so clearly distressed by his current predicament, stay?” The voice laughed, bubbling up from some well that should have been sealed and buried. “They don’t know the truth of course, and if they did how they would laugh too! To fail out of a child’s swimming lessons at age 6, and to do it so completely that he never went back? The man on the rock is trapped now by childhood failing as much as anything else. He cannot swim to freedom and instead he waits and seethes while the girl he might have one day loved slowly gives up on him.”
It was definitely the narrator now. Without a shadow of a doubt I hated the narrator more. I have never been a violent person but in that moment I wanted to punch him in the face more dearly than I’d ever wanted to do anything. His very voice was punchable, how was that even possible?
Instead I simply laid down on my stoney prison and pulled out my phone. If nothing else I could call Katja, try to explain. I unlocked it, navigating to my contacts. My finger hovered over her name wondering what I would say, wondering if I could say anything to make her believe-
“BOO!” the voice screamed.
I dropped the phone. It bounced twice and I saw it crack on the second one before it went straight into the river, sinking into its murky, trash filled depths. Surely screaming at me was cheating?
“Are you fucking proud of yourself?” I asked it.
No response.
“Really dude? Come on, you’re not even going to answer now?”
Again, no response.
“Man, whatever. I’m done.” I laid down on the rock and closed my eyes, fervently hoping that the next teleport would just stick me in the middle of the road and end this whole disaster.
“The man closes his eyes, seeking to shut out the world. It is no use though, for in another twenty-five minutes he will find himself safely back to dry land with a long walk home and no way to explain what happened. To some his life is a tragedy, to others a cautionary tale, and to me? A comedy, the most delicious kind. As his phone floats away the scene fades and we leave him as he falls into a restless sleep where his dreams will be of a smile turning sour and fading away.”
\----------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. I'm currently working on a serial about three psychic teens who one day realize that the world around them has fallen silent and there's other fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. Come check it out, I'd love to have you!
| 2021-02-21T09:04:08 | 2021-02-21T09:02:06 | 1,452 | 77 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach.
|
John and Bardan dejectedly sat on the floor of their spacecraft, observing the screen of their life support system. In ten minutes, their oxygen supply would be finished—and with no allied supply ship nearby, so would their lives.
Despite the impossible odds, Bardan kept sending out telepathic pleas for assistance, which was a special ability of the Terqrok. John on the other hand kept brooding, which was a special ability of humans.
“Bardan,” John sighed, turning towards his co-pilot. “Give it up. No one is going to catch your message—not this far out in the galaxy, at least.”
Lowering a tentacle from its antenna, Bardan telepathically replied: “*You humans give up too easily.*”
“Well, I’d rather asphyxiate while relaxed, rather than stressed about help that won’t come,” John murmured.
Nine minutes of oxygen remained.
Bardan sent another telepathic message to John: “*Fine. Then if I am to perish, I shall ask you some questions I have been curious about*.”
“Oh?” John asked, raising an eyebrow. “And what have you been curious about?”
Bardan projected several questions from its mind over to John’s, mostly on the theme of human culture and ethics. John answered each of them as succinctly as possible: partly because he wasn’t a philosopher, but mostly because he only had a few minutes of oxygen left.
Three minutes of oxygen remained.
“*How…interesting,”* Bardan mused. “*Let me then ask you about religion. In your species’ dark ages, you believed in summoning ‘demons,’ correct?*”
“That’s right,” John replied. “Funny thing is, those demons turned out to be cosmic creatures. Scary creatures, sure. But cosmic creatures neverth—WAIT. Bardok, that’s it!”
“*A solution to our predicament?”*
“Yes.”
“*And what does your proposed ‘solution’ entail?”*
“Summoning a demon.”
Instantly, Bardan sent out a telepathic wave of distress, which John ignored as he brandished his combat dagger and slashed himself in the forearm. A fountain of blood poured out, and John used it to trace a star on the floor of their spacecraft.
Two minutes of oxygen remained.
“*John,”* Bardan asked, “*Why are you doing this? Is this not the height of insanity?”*
“Hah…” John groaned, his face grimacing from the laceration. “Says the one…who expected help in an abandoned sector of the galaxy.”
“*If I understand human tradition correctly, then does not this ritual require your soul?”*
“Sure does. But I figured I was going to Hell anyways.”
With the bloodied pentagram now drawn on the floor, John began chanting something in a language Bardan couldn’t understand.
One minute of oxygen remained.
“*John!”* Bardan telepathically yelled. John’s chanting escalated to a feverish pitch, and his eyes were rolled to the back of his head. Bardan was dumbfounded at John’s suicidal plan: “*You ignoramus! You cannot survive if your soul is devoured by a cosmic horror!”*
John finished chanting, and his eyes rolled back to normal. Upon seeing Bardan visibly distressed, John replied: “Maybe I won’t survive. But if the demon upholds its end of the deal, then you will.”
The errant beeping of the life support system notified the co-pilots that they had just run out of oxygen. As they both began to asphyxiate, the blooded pentagram on the ground started to glow, and all of the lights on the spacecraft suddenly dimmed. A dark fog spawned over the pentagram, spreading out and eventually filling the entire spacecraft.
After flooding the spacecraft for a moment, the fog slithered back into the pentagram. Bardan was suddenly alone in the spacecraft, able to breathe, and completely unable to comprehend why John sacrificed himself.
Bardan wanted to stop John from completing the ritual, not out of any true concern for John, but because of a question about humanity it wanted to ask him. Now, Bardan would never know the answer.
However, with life support and fuel systems suddenly restored—no doubt because of the ritual—Bardan plotted a course towards the nearest allied landing port. After specifying the coordinates, the navigation system stated that it would take several months before arrival. Bardan decided to spend the time pondering the question it never got to ask John:
“*Why are humans so willing to sacrifice themselves for others?*”
|
FADE IN:
INT. THE SECRET HALL OF GALAXY-CENTRIC WORRYING
*A dozen creatures of various species sit around a large table. One of them – something that resembles an eight-foot-tall Möbius strip crossed with a large slug – begins to speak. This is YARLGH.*
**YARLGH:** I call this session of galaxy-centric worrying to order.
*Another individual (who looks a bit like a lobster) raises a claw. This is FF'TFT'AT.*
**FF'TFT'AT:** If we're going to use English this time, can we *please* come up with another name?
*An enormous pile of fur shifts in place. This is KHCHK.*
**KHCHK:** Why? We *do* worry. We worry about things that might affect the galaxy.
**FF'TFT'AT:** Yeah, well, "worry" makes it sound like we don't actually *do* anything.
**KHCHK:** It makes us sound like we worry. That's something.
**FF'TFT'AT:** Anyone can worry. You don't need to be on a council in order to worry.
**KHCHK:** I'm sure the galaxy's citizens appreciate us worrying on their behalf.
**FF'TFT'AT:** Sure, sure... until they start worrying that we aren't worrying enough, right?
**YARLGH:** (*Shouting*) Enough!
*Everyone turns to look at Yarlgh.*
**YARLGH:** We have more-pressing concerns!
**FF'TFT'AT:** Oh, fantastic. Now we're "concerned."
**YARLGH:** As well we should be! The human problem has become untenable.
**KHCHK:** Yes. The humans *are* worrying.
**FF'TFT'AT:** Great! Let them get on with it! Less work for us!
**KHCHK:** I meant that they're *causing* worries. You know, like, "worrying" as in "bothering."
**FF'TFT'AT:** This is just more evidence that the name is stupid.
**KHCHK:** The *humans* are stupid!
*Yarlgh bends in a way that resembles nodding.*
**YARLGH:** That's putting it mildly. I've asked a representative of Earth to explain.
*All eyes (and eye-like organs) move to stare at a human man. This is DAVE.*
**DAVE:** Hm? Me?
**YARLGH:** Yes, you.
**DAVE:** Sorry, am I supposed to worry or worry?
**KHCHK:** ... What?
**DAVE:** Are we using "worry" in the sense of "to be concerned" or "to bother?"
**FF'TFT'AT:** (*Muttering*) Both, apparently.
*Yarlgh growls at Ff'Tft'At, then turns his attention back to Dave.*
**YARLGH:** Just tell us about your... allies.
**DAVE:** Isn't that you guys? Sorry, I don't really read the news.
**KHCHK:** We would *like* to be your allies, but your... friendships... are giving us pause.
**DAVE:** You don't *look* like you have paws.
*Everyone appears confused.*
**FF'TFT'AT:** Sorry, even I didn't get that one.
**DAVE:** Furball there said that I was giving you paws.
**KHCHK:** I said "pause!"
**FF'TFT'AT:** I told you that English was stupid!
**YARLGH:** It is tradition to use the guest's native tongue!
**DAVE:** I'd rather keep my mouth intact, if it's all the same to you.
**KHCHK:** (*Shouting*) Talk about the scary things! Do it *right now!*
*Dave looks around at the assembled councilpersons, all of whom seem to glare.*
**DAVE:** I mean, to be honest, a lot of you look pretty scary to me.
**KHCHK:** (*Shouting*) Racism!
**YARLGH:** We are *obviously* describing the unspeakable abominations with which you consort!
**DAVE:** You guys are being too hard on yourselves.
**KHCHK:** How dare you compare us to those monstrosities?!
**DAVE:** (*Sarcastically*) Oh, right, *I'm* the racist one. Seriously, none of this makes sense.
*Yarlgh stretches to his full, impressive height.*
**YARLGH:** Then let us speak plainly!
**FF'TFT'AT:** (*To himself*) Good luck.
**YARLGH:** You have cut through the fabric of spacetime and made contact with... with...
**KHCHK:** Demons!
**YARLGH:** Yes! They are unknowable entities that drive sentient minds mad.
**DAVE:** Oh, *those* guys? Come on.
**KHCHK:** They've impacted entire solar systems!
**DAVE:** They said they were sorry. Besides, they're hardly *demons*. They're just a bit... you know, impish.
**YARLGH:** "Impish?" Their machinations literally strip sanity from all who encounter them!
**DAVE:** Yeah, well, it's not as if they're actually hurting anyone.
*Murmurs spread through the council.*
**KHCHK:** How can you say that? Do humans not value their brains?
**DAVE:** (*Shrugging*) We're not really using them, you know?
**FF'TFT'AT:** I concur.
**YARLGH:** (*To Ff'Tft'At*) Shut up! (*To Dave*) Explain yourself!
**DAVE:** Look, all I'm saying is that nobody ever accomplished anything by being sane.
**KHCHK:** Name one thing that insanity has accomplished!
**FF'TFT'AT:** Worrying.
**KHCHK and YARLGH:** Shut up!
**FF'TFT'AT:** Why? Am I *worrying* you?
*Khchk launches himself across the table at Ff'Tft'At. The two of them roll out of sight, fighting.*
**YARLGH:** Stop it! Stop this madness at once! I *will* put you both in the naughty corner!
*The two councilpersons rise and sulkily return to their chairs.*
**FF'TFT'AT:** He started it.
**KHCHK:** Did not.
**YARLGH:** (*Roaring*) *Shut! Up!* Honestly, it's like you've both gone...
*The sentence hangs in the air, unfinished. Everyone slowly turns their attention to Dave.*
**DAVE:** What?
**YARLGH:** (*Aghast*) Did you bring them here with you?
**DAVE:** Who?
**KHCHK:** The demons! Are they here?!
**DAVE:** Where?
*Ff'Tft'At audibly giggles, then clamps his claws over his mouth.*
**YARLGH:** Did you, human, bring the demons to this council chamber?
**DAVE:** Oh. No, I came here alone.
**KHCHK:** Then why are we all going bonkers?!
**DAVE:** Hey, don't blame *me*.
**YARLGH:** You *are* to blame! You opened the way for those eldritch horrors!
**DAVE:** I keep telling you, they aren't horrors! Hell, they were *boring* before they met us.
**KHCHK:** ... Before they met you?
*Dave glances around.*
**DAVE:** Oh. *Oh*.
*Several seconds of silence pass. All of the assembled creatures look anxious.*
**FF'TFT'AT:** Well, *now* I'm worried.
*Everyone launches themselves at each other at once.*
CUT TO BLACK.
| 2021-04-07T19:03:13 | 2021-04-07T17:45:17 | 261 | 186 |
[WP] Every spacefaring species has something that makes them special. Some are fast, some have telekinesis, some are nigh-unkillable. To the galaxy's surprise, humans have a tendency to befirend the cosmic horrors lurking where the starlight does not reach.
|
It had been some time since a species had disturbed my slumber. Cycles beyond their comprehension, as I lay resting in the comforting pull of the gravity around me. And yet, I could feel a change in the stars. Pyolia's my kind, the old guard, had evolved before stars burned and rock rose. Ancient. Curious. Powerful. As we continued, more species arose; some just like us, existing beyond lesser creatures understanding. Others, as time passed, more feeble and soft. The first of these races, R'goz as they called themselves, came upon us in their first flights from their celestial body. We had been watching them, curious as they continued to grow. We witnessed as they grew and evolved. But upon meeting our forms, they felt only fear. Upon feeling our minds as we spoke to them, they understood only horror. So, we left. And as we left they spread stories about us. Beings that they couldn't comprehend and they felt only terror upon meeting.
&#x200B;
Collectively our race decided, that we would no longer take such a heavy handed approach. We would retreat to the places that they would fear to reach, observing them and the other star children as they grew into mighty empires and collapse. Soon some would stabilize. More would join. Traits among the races became obvious to notice. Pedanians were fast, but disliked the cramped cities of the empire. Gevari were long lived, for lesser species. We documented these traits and watched. Thusly we come to you.
&#x200B;
You. Your kind. You share a key characteristic with our species. Your curiosity. Your inquisitive nature. Your thirst for knowledge. Before you had left your planets you wished to learn everything you could. Upon contact with other star children, you learned more but still were unsatisfied. And so, now you sit before me, asking for more. Desiring more. Demanding answers. And to that our kind has decided. We shall permit. We shall grant. We shall share. Send forth the most eager. The most hungry. The Most Desiring. For that is what this knowledge shall do. It shall feed your Desire and humanity will evolve.
&#x200B;
{Been a hot minute since I've written anything, so feedback is appreciated!}
|
Beyond Andromeda, an entity approaches.
It devours the electromagnetic radiation for hundreds of parsecs around. At superluminal speeds it approaches the intergalactic hub at Triangulum. On all observation devices it appears as a spherical void—a beyond-supermassive black hole.
The Vanarr spied it first. They thought it might be a galactic dominator in possession of a weaponized cataclysm. They sent in a multi-capable hit squad. It comprised a time-shifting Elunar dreamer, a Grannick of the strong tradition, three dismantlers from the Aerin Hive, and a quark-preserving vapor cloud from deep space. The team approached the entity in a cutting-edge vessel outfitted with the latest anti-matter bombardment emplacements and sub-molecular vibration shielding. If the dominator proved to be in the vein of any one of the galactic near-conquerors in the history of the universe, it would soon find itself out of time, out of matter, and out of mind.
The team entered the sphere. It drank up their radiation, rendering them incommunicado. Some minutes later, a single burst of gamma radiation escaped the sphere. That was the last the Vanarr heard of their hit squad. They concluded that the entity was far more powerful than any dominator, likely an Elder God, and they immediately contacted the Universal Protection Agency, which immediately activated the big red alarm in my bedroom, even though they know as well as I do that me sleeping for another few hours won't make a single difference to the universe. And this is something I've talked to them about before, mind you, but do they listen? No, of course not. Why would they listen to a weak, fragile, untalented, dumb human like me? Sure, I can save all their lives, but why should that matter? So, wake up to a loud alarm, Steve. Put on your flight suit, Steve. Skip breakfast and go get briefed, Steve. Sit in a chair that was designed by an alien who has never seen a human spine, Steve.
Last of all, they want me to salute them, thank them for the job, thank them for allowing my pitiful species to go on living, then hurry off to save the universe, all for no pay, no congratulations, and no chance of bettering my lot in life. It's enough to make a guy want to welcome an Elder God into the universe and end the whole scummy show. Why should I care if the human race dies along with the aliens? There's only a few thousand of us left at this point anyway. We'd be on the endangered species list if the aliens even cared enough to maintain one.
But so here I am again, strapped into my ship, flying through space, destined to confront another Elder God, and inviting the sucker in is starting to sound like a great idea. In fact it's such a great idea, and I'm finding it so funny, that I figure I have to share it with my buddy Rick. I call him up on the ol' instantaneous communicator, the ansible. "I'm thinking of ending the universe," I tell him.
"Most of us call that getting drunk," Rick says. There's the sound of voices chatting near him and some light music playing. I figure he must be in the teacher's lounge.
"No, I mean it. They've shipped me off to another Elder God, and I'm wondering why I shouldn't give the ruddy great thing the keys to the kingdom, so to speak."
"Man, I'm on break. Don't make me talk you down again."
"This time it's different. I really think I'm gonna do it. It's not like it'll be hard. I'll chat up the big guy, get all friendly like, but then instead of asking it to go away, I'll tell it how tasty the light is at the center of Triangulum."
Rick sighs. "Ok, let's do this again. You shouldn't do that because it'll mean the end of humanity. The aliens will know the end is coming, and they'll kill us as punishment."
"Well, but what if you got everyone together, hopped on a ship, and vamoosed?"
"You're being dumb. Half the aliens in the solar system can fly unprotected through space. The other half can shoot lasers out their eyes or some other exotic bullshit. We're the squishy kid on the playground and we need to be happy that the cool kids keep us around."
"But this sucks! I hate my life, man."
"And we thank you for your service." Rick says something to someone else, then comes back on. "I've got to get to class. I'm sorry if I'm not coming across supportive of your plan to end the universe, but I like living. Everyone does. Please let us keep doing that."
I slap the Call End button. I won't lie, I'm feeling a little pissy after that. But Rick does have a point. Just because my life is a dumb grind doesn't mean everybody's is. Only a few humans can handle the Elder Gods, and the rest of the humanity is happy to let us be their meal ticket.
Ok, back to the drawing board. I'm not gonna invite the Elder God to kill us all. But, you know what, I'm not gonna send it packing, either. There's gotta be something I can do to tease out a better life for myself. I'm sure I can figure it out, and I'll do just that, right after I get some shut-eye. I'm three hours short of sleep and still ten away from the entity. Maybe I'll dream of being a powerful alien, one who doesn't have to worry about pissing any greater alien species off and can simply go about the business of pursuing happiness. That would be nice.
*****
*author's note: sorry, it's late. i have to sleep.*
| 2021-04-07T23:13:27 | 2021-04-07T20:53:57 | 106 | 64 |
[WP] The Hero is ridiculously overpowered but has none of the usual moral objections about using their power. They just defeated the last major supervillian and now the city nervously waits to find out what happens next.
|
"Stop right there! Surrender or we will open fire."
The Hero turned around to face the squad of armed police officers. He briefly acknowledged their presence before turning his back on them and walking away.
"Fire!"
With their rifles, the officers pumped round after round of lead into their target. Yet to their astonishment, every bullet bounced off as if it did no damage.
One by one, each officer lowered their weapon, as if realising their bullets would do no harm. As the last officer stood down, two darts from a taser were suddenly fired out from the crowd, landing on the Hero.
He stopped, before grabbing the wires and yanking the electrified darts off his skin. "Heh, that tickles."
Impossible, the officers thought. A taser could bring somebody twice his stature down in split seconds. Did this freak really just shrug off a direct hit from one?
An officer drew out a pair of handcuffs and dashed towards the Hero, but was stopped by the Chief.
"Men, stand down."
The Chief then turned his attention towards the Hero. "Why would you do this to our city?" he cried. "Look at it!"
The Hero stopped and gazed at his surroundings. Whole buildings unearthed and thrown at his nemesis without any consideration for human life. Lamp posts smashed up. Cars crumpled up from the sheer force of his throw.
For a moment he paused and pondered whether he had gone too far. But then he shrugged...
"I had to be violent. It's the only way a crook like Dr Psycho will learn."
|
Everything was quiet. It always was after an ... event. That's what the news would call it, not wanting to give it a more accurate name. They used to call them "fights", but it would be more accurate to say "slaughter". Not that *I'd* say that out loud. You talk about it, it makes it more real.
I nodded to my neighbor as we passed each other, on our separate ways to work. On a good day, we'd stop for a minute to trade gossip, or at least exchange pleasantries. It wasn't a good day. The tension in the air hung heavy, like a storm cloud waiting to break. I even found myself glancing up a few times, as if the blue sky would suddenly have turned grey. I think I'd have preferred it.
When I walked through the door at work, Deb jumped as if I'd burst through the door shooting. "Sorry." I near-whispered as I went to my desk. "What do we have lined up for today?" Deb grimaced, and held out the stack of orders she'd been working on. We were one of the only construction crews that employed empowered people on a permanent basis, which made us well-suited for certain jobs. Like those that came in after events.
"Two blocks worth of wreckage. No-one was living in the apartment building due to renovations, but they're still searching for casualties in the market area. They think it was some kind of implosion, not a regular bomb." I looked over the information. There was a small consolation that the damage was as well-contained as it was. This villain was considerate in that regard. I asked, "Did this guy even make any demands?"
"Not that the networks have mentioned. His outfit was a lot like that guy from a couple of months ago...Fracture? Fissure? F-something. Might've been revenge." I shuddered. The guy had the power to crack anything rigid with a touch. He'd put a hole in a major thoroughfare, and split a building or two before he'd been stopped. Maybe he'd thought Dark Sentinel's durability could be broken, but he'd never had a chance to find out. The pipes below the street had been a pain to repair, even with our specialists. We were still working on some of that damage, now. But Fracture at least hadn't killed anyone. He'd only been there to challenge Dark Sentinel.
"This isn't getting any better, is it? Every time it's someone a little more dangerous, convinced they'll be the one to take him down." It didn't make the situation any better, saying it aloud, but I did feel a little better, somehow. "I know I joked about steady work for powered folk when we first started here, but where's it going to end, Deb? Sentinel's methods were supposed to be a *deterrent*, but if anything he's drawing bigger and bigger threats. How long until we get a planet-buster level threat stomping through Center Street?"
It was as if that hypothetical storm cloud had burst, letting out all the tension and fear I'd been holding in. I couldn't stop talking. I was nearly shouting, heads peering around corners and out of office doors, staring at their raving lunatic of a boss. Deb looked properly horrified, but I knew everyone was thinking the same thing, and it felt like if I didn't say it, no one would, and that was the craziest thing of all.
I finally started winding down. "I'm sorry guys. I know, I'm freaking everyone out. I'm just...I'm sorry." I was afraid Deb's face was going stay frozen with that expression, then realized she wasn't even looking at me any more. "It sounds like...you think someone should do something about it." A chill went up my spine at the unrecognized voice behind me. Did Dark Sentinel have super hearing? I wasn't sure.
I spun around, knowing it would be too late if he wanted to kill me, but the man behind me wasn't our local hero. His outfit was armored, with colors similar to Fracture's reds and browns. Alarmingly, he was missing an arm just above the elbow, and the chestplate was heavily dented. "May I....sit down? I'm a little light-headed, you se- " He passed out mid-sentence, hitting the floor like a load of bricks.
"Deb. Clear my calendar. And get someone with medical training up here. Someone help me get him off the floor so he doesn't bleed all over the carpet."
I had a feeling I was making a terrible mistake by not calling the police. But I couldn't let him bleed out. Maybe I could claim he held us hostage. Or maybe...someone *should* do something about it.
| 2022-06-27T13:39:10 | 2022-06-27T12:05:29 | 17 | 11 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face
|
I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. I remember those first few seconds. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing at the time. Even now I still can’t. Stretched across her face was a single word in large capital letters. KILL. Bold, dark, intimidating; paradox-like presented atop her angel-white skin.
But she was my daughter and I loved her. I loved her as any parent loves their child. I told myself things would be ok. Maybe just this time her mark would be wrong. I was naïve. A young father, dumb and stupid. Wet behind the ears.
People told me I should have tested fate; ended her life right then and there. But how could I be expected to do that? My innocent baby girl. Sweet sweet innocent baby girl.
As the years passed I held on to a shred of hope that maybe, just maybe things would be ok. She was cast out at school, even the teachers were afraid of her. I tried to tell them they had nothing to worry about but they wouldn’t listen.
All this time, I was afraid my daughters next birthday would be celebrated through a prison visitation window. But it didn’t happen. Ten, thirteen, sixteen. I saw her go to college and get her first real job. Every day was a struggle to fit in society, but year after year she beat the odds. My little baby never married though—as I’m sure you could have guessed.
I grew old. Still it never happened. Maybe, just maybe.
Eighty six years old, I suffered my third stroke. A blood clot straight to the brain. The doctors called me a vegetable; but still they kept me alive. Ahhh the wonders of life support. They said there was a chance. For days, weeks, months my body was kept running. There was nothing I could do.
She couldn’t bear to see me like this, my sweet little innocent baby. I saw the pain in her eyes. I saw her hand reach out—
All I have to say is thank you.
|
I rush to the hospital, excited beyond belief. A child! MY child! A little one to hold, to teach, to love! Words can not contain my boundless joy! I broke a few speed laws on the way, but who cares! I'm a father! I enter the hospital, rushing straight to the room number the clerk told me. Bursting in, I see my wife, my beautiful wife, lying on a cot. Her face, with the beautiful marks of one who is destined to be a performer, isn't facing me. She is turned away. Her shoulders are shaking. She can wait, I must see the child! A nurse, with a doctor's markings, takes me to the nursery. She won't look me in the eye. But never mind that, the child! Upon arriving at the nursery, I peer through the window and see my child, dumbstruck. It's a girl, small, with golden hair and eyes so brilliant, so piercing, I get the feeling she is looking at my very soul. Yet the part I am looking for, the party that truly matters, is the part that makes me stop. Her markings. They twist and writhe around her face like snakes too close to a flame. Hard edges somehow mixed with dangerous curves. The mark of a killer. The mark of death.
I rush home, anxious. The call from the from my daughter was urgent, panicked, alone. At home, police cars and a single ambulance are waiting. I barge through the door, greeted by the averting eyes of those who are marked to protect, to be brave, to never surrender. The police step aside, leaving a pathway to out bedroom. My bedroom, now. My beautiful wife sways from a breeze that doesn't exist, stares at me while the rope and the ceiling croak at me with voices of despair. She is with me no more. I return to the main room, where police, with their marks of justice, and my daughter await. She runs to my arms, sobbing. The police slowly file out, whispering. I catch a few words. They believe my beautiful wife's death was the one my daughter was foretold to cause. But I kNow Better.
I rush to the accident, weakened. The police on the line had been calm, patient, explaining the wreck. My daughter and her friend, hit by another car. I arrive at the wreck, astounded by how warped two pieces of metal could become. Still in my daughters car, I see that face of her friend, the marks of kindness on his face blotted out by the streaks of blood. There is no hope from him. My daughter is released by the paramedics, and she runs to my arms, shaking beyond control. As I help her into my car, I hear the others speaking. They believe we can now live in peace. BUT I knOw bETter.
I rush through the house, enraged. Nineteen years, waiting, watching. I know she'll hurt someone, I KNOW IT! THE MARKS HAVE FORETOLD IT! I must stop her, before she stops another. She runs from me, but SHE CAN'T RUN FOREVER! I chase her to her room, but the door is locked. I hit it, and hit it, and HIT IT! IT WILL NOT OPEN! I hear sirens outside. The police with their fake marks of justice. They're on her side. We'll see who gets the last laugh. As I sneak out of the house, I hear their words, consoling her. They believe I won't come back, that she's safe. BUT WE KNOW BETTER!
I rush through my thoughts, cold, calculating. I will not let my ANgeR control me, not like before. That was how she got away. Not this time. I have prepared for too long to allow this to fail. She thinks she can start over, start a family, start being happy. WELL SHE CAN'T! She knows better.
I walk to her. I had wanted to do this in private, but there was no opportunity. Twenty-seven years is too long to wait another minute. She is in a uniform, blue. The same uniform of the betrayers who helped her. But they can't help her now. I call her name, and she stops. Turns. Slowly. I smile at her, savoring the moment. I caught her. Pulling the knife from my belt, I start running to her. Closer. Closer. CLOSER! There's no way she ca- BANG! It hits me like a bullet. It is a bullet, right in my heart. She always was good at that. I crumple, and her shadow falls over me. Tears, on my face. Whether they are mine or hers, I don't know. She begs me not to go, pleads with me, apologizes. She shouldn't. I have failed, not her. I, who shared with her my marks. I, who taught her to try and be something better. I, who never even followed my own advice. She tells me all will be okay, that help will arrive.
But I know...
| 2014-05-11T01:50:33 | 2014-05-10T23:42:39 | 136 | 48 |
[WP] 3 Russian Cosmonuats and 3 American Astronauts and 2 others aboard the international space station witness the launching of thousands of ICBMs between the superpowers. What is the fate of the crew?
|
---ISS Video Log: 7/14/18---
The batteries are low, and i don't have long. This may be the last entry of humanity, at least until after the wheel, electricity, and civilization are reinvented. Hopefully this will have lasted.
---
Three months ago, the world went up in fire. One poor bastard shot another poor bastard, which ended up on the internet. From there the events spiraled out of control as protests popped up and turned to riots, riots into civil war, and finally civil war into a nuclear exchange. One act of senseless violence inspiring grander displays of humankinds cruel nature.
---
There had been eight of us at the start. For three day's we watched the chaos beneath us. Missile flew, and cities died. We watched as one by one, our nations, our families, our lives, were reduced to radioactive slag. Then the real pain started. We had been two weeks away from resupply. While food was not much of a problem, due to the hydroponics lab and the lab animals, we were short on air. Despite the upgrades to life support, our oxygen was limited to 4 months, due to degradation in the O2 scrubbers. Things were made easier, as the number of us to be supported dropped. It was a shock when Vlad walked out the airlock, and again when Mei swallowed a fistfull of pills. It was after Mei that we remaining six began to modify the escape shuttle to land us back on Earth. It took 2 months and two more lives, those of comrade Gregori, and Josh. Thankfully we still had Ilya to pilot us in. And she did, though not well enough. We had re-designated our landing coordinates for a patch of ground in the Midwestern United States, and in doing set the chain of events off that would send Ilya skimming into a boulder. She and Steve were killed instantly. Leaving me and Eve, to find survivors, and re-build the world into a better place
---
I have to go now. the battery is at one percent. Christ, i wish i had more time, more power. I could leave knowledge, understanding, a better warning. Instead i have a crappy narrative of the extinction of humanity. Anyway,i had better get back to Eve and the rest of the camp. This is Adam Godspeed, signing off.
---ISS Video Log End---
|
"Houston, we're deploying the solar array now, should be enough to power the experiment for the dark side. Any further instructions?" the voice communication was crisp with the familiar radio clicks after each transmission. "Go ahead with deployment. No further instructions." replied command center a few minutes later. "Switching you to RKA now. Good night everyone." James floated freely as he pushed his way towards the his sleeping compartment. Floating past his Russian team members and the on board scientist. "I just began deploying the small solar array for your experiment, she'll be up and running in an hour or so. I'm gonna catch some sleep. Wake me up if you run into any problems." he said as he stopped himself from going forward. "Thanks James, sleep well." the scientist replied as he returned his focus back to his task at hand.
James made it to his sleeping area and began strapping himself in, he made sure to double check the straps this time around, last night he woke up free floating in the next room. As he closed his eyes, orbs and streaks of various lights went off behind his eyelids, this took some getting use to, but wasn't so bad after the first few nights. He was quickly off to sleep.
"James, we got something on the map, we need you to check." James was being woke up after what seemed only 2 or 3 hours of sleep by one of the Cosmonauts. "Alright, be right there." he said sleepily with a yawn. James unstrapped himself and began making his way towards the command central room. He was greeted by the scientist, the lead Cosmonaut, and the medical officer. "Houston nor RKA are able to provide us with much data. They said they can confirm and are tracking the same objects we're seeing." the thick Russian accent was calm and professional. James looked over a few of the maps and readings, and looked outside of the station down onto Earth. "Houston, can you provide us with any updates? What are we seeing currently?" he asked as he scanned the atmosphere making note of 3 streaks cutting high above the clouds. "ISRO says it came from China air space. Moving towards western skies. Appears to be long-range missiles. We're awaiting confirmation from TKSC." The voice seemed nervous and full of uncertainty, it made the entire crew very uneasy. "Korsov, can you begin dialogue with RKA on the other channels and see what's going on?" James commanded as he began scanning over incoming logs from various satellites in the area. "Karen, Christopher, can you start the checklist for emergency shuttle departure?" he said as he swiveled in his chair looking at the two Americans. They began making their way to the emergency shuttle ports without hesitation. "Houston to I.S.S, China has just launched ICBMs. We're going DEFCON 2. US military began deployments to engage China and Russian military." James let his head fall low, taking a deep breath. He knew the situation on the ground was bad before the launch, but now it had reached the unthinkable. He knew that whatever happened on the ground wouldn't come between the crew. "James, RKA not communicate with I.S.S, what is situation?" The second Cosmonaut began switching back and forth between the Russian and US control rooms. "Appears to be international conflict broke out a few hours ago. China and Russia are launching ICBMs en-route to the US and the US Military is responding of course. We're going to begin setting up coordinates to land on neutral soil. I think we'll be able to make way to India or Canada, not sure of our windows yet." James was confident he could get the crews and both shuttles home safely before things got worse. It seemed weird, but if anything were to happen with communications down there, they'd be stuck for a long time in orbit.
The shuttles were ready after 4 long hours of prep. During the time, the crew watched a barrage of streaks clutter the atmosphere. Some turned into tiny explosions, some seemed to have disappeared below the clouds. "Everyone, we've set the coordinates for Canadian soil, hard re-entry, limited support for pick up. So let's make sure we're ready for some camping." James did his best to inject some humor during terrible situations. It didn't seem to work.
"Roll 40 left, nudge right. Engage SRS." Karen was in control of the US shuttle which lead the way towards Earth. She was assigned lead by James who elected to help out with the Russian's shuttle. Both were American equipment and rather than risk any confusion, this seemed like the best option. "Heat shield's looking good. Direct re-entry confirmed, communication silence in 5.... 4..." the radios began cackling as the two ships began their slow dissent into the outer layers of the atmosphere. Karen's ship began to glow first, ripping through the atmosphere at intense speeds. Then Jame's shuttle trailed several miles behind. Both finally emerged below the clouds, the ground slowly becoming visible. "Everyone okay?" James asked as he tried to reach Karen's shuttle, "We are good for landing. See you on the -" There was a brilliant streak of light that sprang forth from above the clouds, thundering down to Karen's ship, colliding with it. In an instant it exploded in thousands of pieces, flames engulfing and licking the atmosphere around them. Shrapnel pinged off of Jame's ship causing no significant damage. His mouth fell open, along with the Cosmonauts. The sky in front of them seemed to fill with smoke and debris. Their path clouded by the exploded ship.
Within a few minutes, Jame's shuttle had slammed into the earth, the landing explosion shock absorbers did their jobs, violently, but it kept them safe. James and the Cosmonauts began their process to unstrap and crawl out onto the surface.
-------------
Edited for spelling and grammar (I was very sleepy).
| 2014-08-09T21:57:53 | 2014-08-09T21:50:00 | 202 | 42 |
[WP] You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down.
Edit 1: Holy shit! Thanks for all of the great replies!
Edit 2: ¡Jesus Cristo! Front page! Thanks all!
|
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew po-"
|
I remember when I still cared. When the world was young, and I was a child.
"Please **[checkgender: sir/miss]**! Please help me! My parents went to gather Fy'lssa flowers in the bog, and they haven't come back!"
I answered all their questions. I tried to be helpful.
"Fy'lssa flowers? They're quite valuable. If you rub them on your armor it won't rust for seven days. If you mix them with c'xuhl broth and drink it, you can't be attacked while resting. It grows in the northeast corner of the bog. But beware the Y'lly'y adders!"
I warned them of the dangers. I did my best to help them.
"Y'lly'y venom can strike down even the strongest in mere minutes, unless you have the antidote."
Somehow, they never seemed to listen.
"The antidote? Simply chew on a Rh'hihhy mushroom, and you'll be right as rain **[microtransaction: unlock Rh'hihhy mushroom $2.99]**!"
There were so many at first. Some tried to help, some didn't. Few heeded my advice about the mushrooms.
But the adventurers came less and less often, and I could see that this cruel world was taking its toll on them. Their armor was rusty, their weapons blunt. A few were clad in shining, majyckal armor that would never rust, but they were far too proud to bother with me.
And so I grew up. In an instant, I changed from a child to a woman.
"Oh **[checkgender: sir/miss]**! Won't you help me? My elven lover has disappeared! She was bathing in the waters where the Fy'lssa plants grow, and I haven't seen her for days! If you'd help me we'd be... *ever* so grateful."
Some helped, some didn't. But they seemed strangely hostile when I tried to reward them.
"Oh **[checkgender: sir/miss]**, how can I *ever* thank you! For what you have done you may ask anything of us... *anything*. **[microtransaction: buff dex $2.99] [microtransaction: remove bogwater debuff 3.99] [microtransaction: HawtLesbo3someSFW $5.99] [microtransaction: HawtLesbo3someXXX $6.99]**"
Now the adventurers hardly come at all, and I feel the end is near. Even the weakest has godly, undecaying armor, but there are so few, and the monsters are so many. Perhaps it is for the best. I do not like what I have become. I offer help, but I sense that I am being less than helpful.
"Oh, is that a bold, manly hero I spy? Ooh, I like a manly man. Perhaps you would take me as a companion. Or a... *companion.* I can't fight, but I can heal you and battle, and I can do... *other* things. **[microtransaction: add as healer $2.99] [microtransaction: add to harem $3.99]**"
I am tired. I am so tired. I am not suited for this life.
>Your healer is too far away to help!
>Your healer is in danger!
>Your healer's health is getting low!
>Your healer's health is getting very low!
>Your healer has died! **[microtransaction: revive only as healer $1.99] [microtransaction: revive only as harem $0.99] [microtransaction: revive as healer and harem $2.99]**
I hear other corners of the world are going dark. I hear we will be next. Good. I was not meant for this life, or this world. If I live again, I think I would like to be a monster. I would not be helpful, but at least my fate would be my own.
| 2015-09-01T11:39:46 | 2015-09-01T11:29:29 | 171 | 20 |
[WP] Upon his suicide Hitler will join the dead waiting to be ferried across the river Styx. The dead include the millions who died in WWII. You have been tasked with keeping Hitler safe until he can arrive for his final judgment.
|
"Yup, there he is again."
"At the back of the line?"
"Yeah."
"Aren't you supposed to protect him?"
"You try protecting him against 60 million souls."
"Don't you mean 6 million?"
"No. 6 million Jews died. but think of all the service men that died fighting in Europe, and every Russian, and Chinese who died as a result of Hitler starting his war. Adds up, and every single one of them wants a shot at the big H."
"Still, you're not even trying to keep him....alive..."
"Exactly. He's dead. Whats he gonna do? Die again? Every time hes ripped to pieces, he just shows up at the end of the line. Also, Jesus Christ this line is long. Why is there only one ferry, and they're only taking people one at a time?"
"I don't know, I didn't design this place. Seems like a huge oversight with all the people who die every day."
"Oh look, there he goes again. Some Americans spotted him. Oh god, that's gory. There's no weapons in the after life. They had to use their bare hands and...teeth."
"Wow, that is a fate worse than any judgement that can be passed upon him."
"Why do you think I didn't cut him to the front of the line?"
"You can do that?"
"Yeah, he was a special exception, but since the big guy hasn't gotten on my case about it, I don't see the harm. I mean, everyone is getting their revenge."
"I ...I almost feel sorry for him. How many times has this happened?"
"You think I can tell you the amount of times hes been torn to shreds over the past 71 years? Look, since we started this conversation, he's been killed 2... oh no...3 times, and we've been talking for what, 3 minutes?"
"One death every minute? That...do you have a calculator?"
"Sorry, afterlife."
"Wow."
"Its best we don't think about it."
|
I was told it was a promotion, so, naturally, I was excited. I'd been serving here since forever; it was my job to make sure everyone was kept in order as they waited to cross the River Styx. Nothing special, sometimes fun, but pretty much just a job. One day, my boss, the goddess Styx (I've checked, she's not related to Narcissus, she apparently just wanted to name a river after herself), summoned me to talk to me about a promotion.
"You've got a lot of promise, Alexander. I've been looking for someone who stands out, someone capable," she'd told me, her tone thick with mystery. "I believe you would be up to the task. I need you to guard a new arrival, he'll be here shortly and, well...let's just say he'll be rather unpopular with a great many of the souls we've accumulated through the recent years."
My curiosity led me to ask, "Really? Why, who is it?"
A sinister, almost taunting, smile lit her face up with joy. "Adolf Hitler."
I thought about it for a moment, but in the eternity that I'd spent down here, no matter how hated someone was in life there was hardly any conflict between the souls once they'd arrived. *How hard could it be?* I'd thought, then I accepted the promotion.
My rhetorical question was soon answered. We all heard the gunshot, which was nothing new here, it didn't alarm any of the souls, but I knew it was my signal to go to the Welcome Area. Sure enough, there he was, the man most responsible for the deaths of countless people. Still, we get all sorts here, so I wasn't about to let that ruin my professionalism. I put on a polite smile and started, "Mr. Adolf Hitler, welcome to the afterlife. Currently you're waiting, along with the rest of these souls, to cross the River Styx. It can be quite a wait, I'm afraid, but--"
That was all I'd managed to get out when the mob swarmed. 'Mob' doesn't seem the word. A crowd of souls, millions upon millions, amassing together to create what looked like a thick, dense forest of different sizes, shapes and colours. Except forests don't move, yet this one was moving towards us. Slowly at first, disbelief in the eyes I could see at the front of the crowd, as if they refused to believe this monster could share the same space as their humanity. Then they ran, screams, cries and threats in all languages aimed in our direction.
After what felt like an eternity of shock, at the sight I'd never seen before in all of my time here, I snapped out of it, ever the professional. "Mr. Hitler, I've been chosen to keep you safe as you await your crossing, so if you'd like to follow me," the words hurried out of me, and without waiting for him to respond, I grabbed his arm and sprinted away from the giant forest of souls.
Having been here since the beginning, I knew the shortcuts, the secret paths, the rooms. I shoved the man unceremoniously through a small gap between two huge, black rocks, and followed him inside. It led down into a small space, big enough for the two of us if we crouched down. It was cramped, but it would have to do. The silence felt awkward and heavy, and it stayed like that for at least four days. He barely spoke a word, but from what I could tell, he was unhappy that there was an afterlife. I'd probably be unhappy that there was an afterlife and a final judgment, too, if I'd done as much as him. Still, his lack of talking unnerved me, and it made time pass by even slower than it already was.
Eventually, we heard them. The shouts, the angry roars, the stomping. I thought they'd carry on past us, but no. They ripped apart the huge rocks, this little sanctuary of ours, in just a few minutes. A dull red glow penetrated the darkness we'd been subjected to down there, and suddenly dozens of arms appeared, clawing at us, reaching blindly, greedily, grabbing whatever bit of our flesh they could find, and pulling us up, up, up, until we were out of the small gap and back here, among the crowd.
They didn't stop there. Ever the professional, I shielded the genocidal former-dictator from the hands that were searching for him. I wrapped myself around him like a mother wraps a blanket around her child to protect them from the cold. Nails dug into my skin and tore off lines like tractors digging up earth. I let out a blood-curdling scream as the smell of my blood filled the air and poured onto the ground. They pulled me, pried my arms away from Hitler, and pushed me to the ground.
I was about to get up, but then I saw them all. Many of them very young, in uniforms covered in blood. Many of them as thin as sticks, souls trapped to the form they died as until they receive judgment and can then be restored to their peak selves. Hollow eyes, shreds of clothing hanging from them. Mothers holding the hands of their children, or cradling their babies in their arms as the angriest scrambled for revenge.
I groaned in agony as I stood up, and I looked into the eyes of the man responsible. "I'm quitting my job," I said, simply, a satisfied smile creeping onto my face as I walked away, the mass of souls washing over him like a wave.
| 2016-01-12T08:47:53 | 2016-01-12T07:48:22 | 37 | 11 |
[WP] It's been almost two years since people stopped dying, and five months since we started to burn the ones that should.
*Edit: This prompt is originally inspired by Jose Saramago's "Death with Interruptions," though I don't remembered any burning in that book. This is in no way intended to be related to any Torchwood plot, a show I've never watched.*
|
I still heard people around me, even if I couldn't react. For a long time, I heard the people telling my family how lucky they were that I had my accident *after* Death had died. I never felt lucky, though.
After a while, no one came around at all. Death or no Death, I was lost to them.
It'd been -- months...? Maybe years? -- since I'd moved. The doctors knew I was still *there* -- they picked up on my brain activity, and all my necessary functions were chugging along just fine. I couldn't see anymore, though I'd heard I still had my eyes. I suppose that was lucky, given the extent of my burns.
The fire may not have taken my eyes, but it certainly broke something. My skin screamed in constant, droning agony, occasionally amplified by a touch from a nurse. In a way, I was glad it'd been so long since I'd seen my mother -- she had loved to touch me, and I had had no way to tell her that it made my pain so much worse.
I was hopeful. Some untold length of time ago, I was listed for disposal. And today was the day. I had heard it happened with fire. Fitting, I thought.
I heard the crew come in and I felt something I hadn't felt in several eternities -- I was happy. My skin shrieked a beautiful, horrible pain, and soon I was burning. I was ecstatic.
I could feel my flesh melting away from my bones, and I waited blissfully for consciousness to fade away.
But it never did. The pain is so much worse, and I can feel myself scattered and stretched, disintegrated into countless millions of ashes. Of course, they assumed the fire would *truly* kill me, send me out of this world and into the next, but that was foolish. Death is dead, and no one can die.
|
I was managing a fast food joint in downtown Boston around the time the rumors started. People in hospitals living way longer than they should, some bastard in Texas shrugging off a lethal injection twice. The internet and news got overwhelmed with it, but I didn't believe until some punk strolled into my place, ordered some food and then in lieu of paying shot my favorite cashier, Deborah, in the face. Now I can write about it calmly, but that was the worst thing I've ever seen in my life - even today. There were chunks of bone and sinus everywhere and they never tell you that fat splatters worse than other tissue. Three feet in front of me was this body, faceless, teetering back and forth while five feet behind me someone vomited onto a grill. I couldn't think, I couldn't move, and I passed out when Debbie's twitching mess of a head just turned towards me and screamed.
When I came to, she was the one kneeling over me - and she looked like shit. Not like she'd been shot in the face, not like a scar-covered burn victim, but like she was maybe a few hard-lived years older. she didn't even remember being shot. I drank myself to sleep that week. It turns out, all over the world, people started just not dying from wounds, and in most cases, disease. The weirdest and worst thing was that they also started healing very, very quickly. Scientists and doctors started going on record with what they had observed and the rule seemed to be that the more significant the injury, the quicker the healing process. Now everybody is like this - a paper cut will be with you for days, as will a cold or a bruise, but get into a car wreck and you'll probably pull yourself out of it while you grow a new foot and lose 10 pounds of fat and muscle while you do it.
That was the price - all that growth has to come from somewhere and it sure as hell wasn't magic. Gym rats and the obese are, in my experience, practically invulnerable. It's also very easy to put on muscle now - all the tearing and healing of muscle fibers or something. It didn't take me long to realize what the next big thing was going to be, and that was food. Everybody was going to be a little more reckless now, and they had to eat if they didn't want to waste down to a skeletal figure too weak to move.
I guess it took about four months of all-around craziness after the news became public knowledge, but life sort of moved on. All the traditional safety warnings and parking tickets and fear-mongering news were still there. Society didn't crumble, but it got a whole lot weirder. So many people took on "bulking" as a way to let them do crazy things, like starting weapon-based fight clubs or amateur parkour. In a fit of brilliance, I approached a university about a lab they had that was working on that artificially-produced meat and actually convinced them to go ahead and ramp up production and I would be their first customer. The FDA kind of lost their bite and reason to exist when food-borne illness becomes a thirty minute affair.
All in all, things started to look pretty great for humanity as a species - kids being born seemed to grow normally, older people stopped being so frail and lots of people started moving out of cities to go do what made them happy. The trouble began when a child molester in Eastern Europe started really messing up the children. He wouldn't just abuse them, he'd break their legs and arms then let them heal messed up so the kids were crippled. a whole group of people figured out who was destroying their children and burned in in a bonfire in the middle of town.
Lots of people had been stuck in fires, but when you don't really pass out from smoke inhalation or die by jumping out of a window, it turns out that fires are usually not too difficult to escape from. They locked him in a cage before they did it so he wasn't so lucky. It became a sensation - videos online, the news covering the story, governments commenting on the nature of the "unprecedented event". People started to get ideas.
It doesn't happen often, but people in organized crime would start burning opponents, as would soccer moms and concerned citizens who didn't care about law and order anymore. The serially violent, rapists, drug dealers, even someone's asshole extended family member started getting roasted. Fewer people than ever are lining up to be cops and most people are to busy absorbed in their own lives to care much. Most people just want to eat, live, and be able to shrug off a few bullet wounds when they decide to go a little crazy.
I've made a goddamned fortune off of this. I started out selling food at a dump and now I own one of the largest superfast food chains on the East Coast. Using fake meat, every time some stupid adrenaline junkie comes through looking to gorge I make 20% profit on every item they cram down their gullet. The future, however, isn't in religion, peace, arms, or even money- it's in politics. I'm coming out on top by opening my next business venture: I'm gonna run for elected office. I'll start small at first, maybe city councilman or mayor, but I know I'm not the only guy out there who knows where this is headed: we have to legalize murder. Not only that, but it has to be state-funded and glamorous. Society will coalesce back into normalcy, it just needs a little push.
| 2016-05-02T07:12:48 | 2016-05-02T06:56:31 | 75 | 22 |
[WP] Write a story that becomes a horror story in the last line.
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"Can't wait to see you tonight."
"I might be a bit late I have to go home and pick up something then visit my sister Jane and her baby."
"Ok, well I'll see you later then bye."
"Bye." I click off the phone and start the drive home. Normally the drive is long and boring, but today I hardly noticed the road flying by, or how I was speeding past a slew gas stations and convenience stores. Today I'm drunk on a mixture of excitement and nerves. Excitement to finally meet Noah and nervous to visit Jane.
I get to my apartment and rush up to my room. In a rush I tear off my uniform, throw on a dress and smear on my makeup. Finally I'm finished with one last twirl in front of the mirror I go grab my keys and the bouquet of flowers I had bought yesterday. I'm about to leave when I realize. Shit I forgot my wallet. I run into my kitchen to grab my wallet when I see Jane sitting at the table with her baby resting peacefully in her arms.
I don't know what's more shocking, the fact that she's here in my apartment, or that someone dug up their corpses, broke into my apartment and put them here.
|
I had just moved to London in August from my sweltering hometown in Texas for college. I'd expected arrogant pricks to look at me differently because of my southern drawl, but I soon realized nobody gave a fuck. One asshole asked if I rode a horse to school when I was back home, and I politely smiled and told him no. Besides that there haven't really been any interesting conversations. As of right now I'm sitting at my laptop in a little cafe, sheltered from the drizzle outside on a particularly chilly September day. It's really relaxing to write stories on reddit--helps me kill time so it's easier to avoid going home.
I'd gotten better after moving a ways away from the bus stop on 52nd street. The night terrors had stopped, at least. I was still uneasy being home alone, but my cat Petunia was pretty good about keeping me company. The little shit had a way of curling up on my chest at night right when I started feeling panicky. But however much of a reclusive cat lady I was, I still felt lonely. Back in Texas I had a guy I was nuts about, but in the end I was just too much for him. I couldn't help how I felt or acted, and he understood that, but he just couldn't deal with it. On the trip to London I deleted our last photo together.
I drearily made my way back to my apartment in the wet chill of dusk, a dull stone grey color cast on nearly everything that was still struggling to maintain life in the wake of the city's deep depression. My bright pink Hello Kitty rain boots didn't do much to alleviate the heaviness of the city's breath. I was being sucked into a cold grey oblivion with each further step I took.
"Hey! Kitty boots!"
Fuck off.
"Hey! Your stuff is gonna--"
Well, fuck me.
In approximately 0.5 seconds papers, books, and the like crumbled under the weight of the city and tumbled onto the ground beneath me. It was like seeing Brandon after I started crying again about--
"Kitty Boots! Quick!"
This asshole. In three strides he had found his way to my side of the street. He picked up my books faster than I could register that he wasn't just cat calling me, and I, embarrassed, picked them up to and hugged them to my chest so tight I could feel the cold seep down into my bones.
"Name's Elliot," he smiled as he reached out his hand.
"Paula."
The first night he spent the night with me it felt like I'd seen the sun for the first time in ages. Amazingly he'd managed to tolerate me with minimal effort and didn't ever really question why I didn't like my breasts being touched, or when I asked him to not wear a cross around his neck. In time I revealed that I'd been raped not long ago by a religious fanatic who later blamed my breasts for ruining his purity. I could be a lot to handle, but he never grew impatient. He never took it personally if I didn't want to be touched. To me, it was like the city heaved a last, relieving sigh before breathing in a little ray of sun. He liked legos, and would encourage me to make little lego houses with him. I'd make him waffles on Saturday mornings, and we would go get a latte and and pretend finals weren't coming up for a few hours. Unfortunately, even the best of people crack.
In bed one night his hand grazed over my breast by mistake and I whipped my head around faster than he could say "sorry" and in my sleepy haze whimpered "Stop it, Jacob." Snapping back into reality and seeing his face fall faster than the rain outside was death in slow motion to me. He cracked. He hadn't fixed me. He knew he hadn't. And he cracked.
There's some form Japanese art where you repair a broken pot with gold and it's said that it makes it even more beautiful. I read about it on facebook a few months ago and it stuck with me for some reason. And after a night or two of endless discussion, he was alive again, like the broken pot put back together with gold. I was happy. When he told me he had to take a call around 2am and went outside, I wasn't bothered. I lied in bed, giddy for his return, pretending to be asleep and awaiting his touch when I heard the front door swing open and close, footsteps sinking into the wooden floor. Cold arms wrapped around me, gentle at first, then so tight I felt my lungs struggling against the pressure.
"I can't believe you'd dirty someone else again, you filthy whore."
Edit: First time writing anything on here, so sorry if I missed the mark or the end wasn't written that well. Critiques are happily accepted. I don't really write all that often.
| 2016-06-22T16:03:00 | 2016-06-22T15:32:01 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] A burglar enters a home by forcing the window open. Upon stepping through the window frame, heavy steel curtains cover all windows and doors leading to the outside, lights turn on, and the words "Player 2 has entered the game" echo around the house.
|
"Player 2 has entered the game"
"What the hell?" He thought. Almost immediately there was a loud boom and a flash.
A sensation if weightlessness filled his body. He looked down to see his lifeless body on the floor, blood pooling where his head had once been.
A dark figure made its way across the room to his body. It bent down and he could see the outline of another man. The man ransacked the pockets of his corpse.
"What is he looking for?" Something glinted in the man's hand. He could just make it out as his vision faded to black.
"Shit, he got my gun."
Suddenly he saw a bright light ahead of him, and a door. Not what he had imagined the pearly gates would look like, but if he was getting into heaven he wasn't going to argue.
As he opened the door he was greeted by a familiar voice, "Player 2 has respawned."
"Oh, fuck..."
|
"Player two has entered the game!" The voice echoed down the halls. A ball of flesh pressed into a corner of the basement stop shaking. "Yessssss" It whispers to itself. Long ago the creature was player two as well, now it was player one. "More blood, so much more blood." The little creature cackled as it pulled itself from its' nest of corpses. "More blood to set him freeeeeee~" The emaciated man chattered in glee, before scampering off into the darkness.
"No, no.. No... NO GODDAMMIT LET ME OUT!" The thief screamed at the stell curtian. "I will not play your little fucking game!" His nails little more than bloody fragments of what they used to be. He has been scratching at the curtain hoping to make enough sound to get some kind of attention from outside. It wasn't supposed to be like this, this was just supposed to be some house. He had been watching it for weeks now, the family was loaded and they left for a vacation trip. This shouldn't be a thing, This wasn't some kind of horror movie. "Choose your weapon!" The voice echoed throughout the house once again. The burglar turned wide eyed looking into the awaiting darkness. "A firearm, lord please give me a fucking gun."
"Claws and teeth, to set the blood free." The wretched man screamed gleefully when the announcer gave them the tools of choice. "More blood to set him free, and so much meat to feast upon for meeeeee~" The little monster was doing an awkward yet quick quadrapedal hobble through the darkness. "Ican smell you player two~~" The little monster screeched. "You smell like a tasty meal to me!" He giggled and kept hopping along, searching, hunting, needing.
Lights flickered, seeming to lead deeper into the home turned nightmare fuel. "There better be something worth all this." The thief mumbled to himself as he edged deeper and deeper in. With the initial fear gone, all he had was irratation and rage. "Player two bullshit... I am no one's player two, player one all the way."
"Challangers, Face one another and prepaaaaaaaaaaare for COMBAT!" The voice bellowed as the theif finally made it to what looked like a kitchen. Sitting on the island was a little man covered in what looked like blood and feces. The smell alone was a vicious assualt. "State your name for the viewers at home!" The anounce said once again, seeming to loose a sense of what was just stated. "Jake from statefarm." The thief said sarcastically, still trying to get over the smell coming from the little gremlin still perched on the kitchen island. "Today... I am..." The little man tilted his head seeming to listen to something unseen. "Bobby!" The man cried excitedly, as though something magical happened within his mind. "Weapons have been choosen, Jake from statefarm has choosen...." A click was heard as a drawer slid open, revealing a glock 17, "A firearm" Jake's audio clip was played over what was ever providing the voice. "Bobby has choosen..." The little man clapped happily while yelling in perfect unison with his recording, "Claws and teeth." The lights in the room went from the soft yellow to a hard red. "BEGIN!" The announcer roared.
Jake grabbed the gun as quickly as he could and began firing at Bobby. The shots were wild and untrained, each bullet going wide of the mark, and finding home in the appliances behind the little creature. Bobby leap forward, screeching like a horny cockatiel. "Blood, Blood, Blood just for me!" Jake hit a wall and kept slamming the trigger after all it did was click. Bobby slammed him hard in the chest forcing the air from the man's lungs and both of them falling to the red lit tiled floor of the kitchen. The claws found blood hiding under the flesh and teeth tore at bone badly protected by muscle. A few scream filled moments it was over. Player one was perched victoriously upon player two's chest as blood leaked and seeped from various wounds that littered the second player's face, throat and chest. "Victory goes to player One!" The announcer yelled breathlessly. "What is player one's reward?" The announcer whispered over the sound system, awaiting player one's decision.
"More blood!" He giggled.
| 2016-10-05T11:10:45 | 2016-10-05T10:37:19 | 2,176 | 217 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
“I sneak up behind my target, aim my derringer at his head, and pull the trigger”
“Roll a d20 twice against your agility and once against your dexterity”
A 5
A 17
D 12
“You successfully sneak up on your target and shot him in the head. However you chose a poor spot to hide while shooting and get spotted by a nearby theater patron. Your target dies within hours while you flee the scene under pursuit. The police know your identity”
“Imma hide in this here barn”
|
DM: Alright, so you all have been stationed on the Bolognian for a few days now. Tensions have been high with Bologna for generations now, and things are starting to get pretty heated once again.
Player 1: Alright, so what are our orders
DM: Your group's job is to sneak into enemy territory and scout out areas within Bologna and to report back with anything you find out.
Player 2: So we are just scouting out, not trying to fight anyone?
DM: Ya, Modena and Bologna are not in open war right now, but its close.
Player 1: Ok I'll take point. Let's head straight towards the center of the country, then work our way back.
Player 3: Sounds reasonable.
Player 2: Let's do it!
DM: Ok so about a week passes and you are on the outskirts of a town near the center of Bolognian territory. There are quite a few large buildings, a church, and a communal well near the centre of the city.
Player 4: I sneak into the town square.
DM: Ok, so you make your way past a few soldiers who are sleeping on their post and make your way into the town square. As it is night most of the market stalls and such are packed up. The square is nearly deserted.
Player 4: Ok imma grab the bucket from the well and start looting some buildings.
DM: What?
Player 4: I steal the bucket and fill it with loot.
Player 1: Is that a good idea, we are just supposed to be scouting around.
Player 3: shhhh just let him do it.
DM: Ok so you pull the bucket down from eh rope it is hanging on and go around to a few buildings. Most of what you find is dinnerware, jewelry, and various other small bits of valuable metals, but in total it is about enough to fill the bucket.
Player 4: Alright let's get out of here.
Player 2: I take some charcoal and graffiti the wall "Modena waz here" Lol so edgy.
Player 3: haha nice.
DM: You guys work your way back to Modenian territory with your bucket full of loot. When you get back to your officer to report what you found, he immediately starts chastising you for stealing the bucket from Bologna. Apparently, they sent word to the Modenian government about a stolen bucket and are demanding the bucket back.
Player 4: No way, I stole this bucket, its mine now.
DM: fine, The Bolognese have raised an army of 32,000 men and are marching on the city of Zappolino...
Player 2: that is the most Italian sounding name I have ever heard... Continue...
DM: Your country can only muster 7,000 men, and it seems as though you will be crushed entirely.
Player 3: Lets set up an elaborate defence of the city and make sure we don't lose.
DM: Roll to set things up.
Player 3: Natural 20!
DM: Nice, so you guys get some well-made defences and a great strategy in place to drive back your enemy. They come soon and stand against your defences. You suddenly realize how fucked you are. This mile-long wall of bodies bearing down on you like a force of nature. I need you guys to roll to see how the battle fares.
~*everyone rolls nat 20*~
DM: WEll shit, you guys manage to break the enemies formations and send them routing back home, successfully beating a force nearly 5 times as large as your own.
Player 4: I take a group and chase them back to the border.
DM: they are in full flight mode, so you are easily able to drive them out of the country.
Player 4: And a steal another one of their buckets as a trophy.
~*Party laughs their asses off, DM sighs and rolls his eyes. Everyone drinks a bit more, laughs and passes out sprawled over couches and floors.*~
| 2018-05-29T09:28:35 | 2018-05-29T09:19:41 | 39 | 22 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
“So you’re storming the beaches of Italy in his game. Did you bring the WW2 character sheets?”
“Uhh... shit I brought my fantasy sheet for my ranger.”
“...”
“It’s okay! We can still play. Who was important in WW2 again?”
“Winston Churchill...”
“There we go! I’ll call my character Jack Churchill, and he’s storming the beaches with a broad sword and longbow.”
“Do you really have to do that?”
“Come on man it’ll be fun”
“... fuck it, sure”
|
DM: Alright, so you all have been stationed on the Bolognian for a few days now. Tensions have been high with Bologna for generations now, and things are starting to get pretty heated once again.
Player 1: Alright, so what are our orders
DM: Your group's job is to sneak into enemy territory and scout out areas within Bologna and to report back with anything you find out.
Player 2: So we are just scouting out, not trying to fight anyone?
DM: Ya, Modena and Bologna are not in open war right now, but its close.
Player 1: Ok I'll take point. Let's head straight towards the center of the country, then work our way back.
Player 3: Sounds reasonable.
Player 2: Let's do it!
DM: Ok so about a week passes and you are on the outskirts of a town near the center of Bolognian territory. There are quite a few large buildings, a church, and a communal well near the centre of the city.
Player 4: I sneak into the town square.
DM: Ok, so you make your way past a few soldiers who are sleeping on their post and make your way into the town square. As it is night most of the market stalls and such are packed up. The square is nearly deserted.
Player 4: Ok imma grab the bucket from the well and start looting some buildings.
DM: What?
Player 4: I steal the bucket and fill it with loot.
Player 1: Is that a good idea, we are just supposed to be scouting around.
Player 3: shhhh just let him do it.
DM: Ok so you pull the bucket down from eh rope it is hanging on and go around to a few buildings. Most of what you find is dinnerware, jewelry, and various other small bits of valuable metals, but in total it is about enough to fill the bucket.
Player 4: Alright let's get out of here.
Player 2: I take some charcoal and graffiti the wall "Modena waz here" Lol so edgy.
Player 3: haha nice.
DM: You guys work your way back to Modenian territory with your bucket full of loot. When you get back to your officer to report what you found, he immediately starts chastising you for stealing the bucket from Bologna. Apparently, they sent word to the Modenian government about a stolen bucket and are demanding the bucket back.
Player 4: No way, I stole this bucket, its mine now.
DM: fine, The Bolognese have raised an army of 32,000 men and are marching on the city of Zappolino...
Player 2: that is the most Italian sounding name I have ever heard... Continue...
DM: Your country can only muster 7,000 men, and it seems as though you will be crushed entirely.
Player 3: Lets set up an elaborate defence of the city and make sure we don't lose.
DM: Roll to set things up.
Player 3: Natural 20!
DM: Nice, so you guys get some well-made defences and a great strategy in place to drive back your enemy. They come soon and stand against your defences. You suddenly realize how fucked you are. This mile-long wall of bodies bearing down on you like a force of nature. I need you guys to roll to see how the battle fares.
~*everyone rolls nat 20*~
DM: WEll shit, you guys manage to break the enemies formations and send them routing back home, successfully beating a force nearly 5 times as large as your own.
Player 4: I take a group and chase them back to the border.
DM: they are in full flight mode, so you are easily able to drive them out of the country.
Player 4: And a steal another one of their buckets as a trophy.
~*Party laughs their asses off, DM sighs and rolls his eyes. Everyone drinks a bit more, laughs and passes out sprawled over couches and floors.*~
| 2018-05-29T09:44:43 | 2018-05-29T09:19:41 | 35 | 22 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had.
|
I looked at the readout again. After turning 179 (take that Methuselah, ya fake bastard) I had earned another skill. One never seen before. My eyes were replaced last year with new "genetically vat grown" ones, whatever the hell that means and I'd been offered all replacement parts. But see, you don't get a new skill unless you're 95% original parts, at least that's what they tell me. So I stuck it out. I read the readout again as my smile broadened. Well HOT damn!
I opened the door for the first time this week. I slowly, at my age there's no other kind of speed, made my way onto my front porch just as my house rattled from the 8:10 rocket landing at the spaceport across town passed over. You could always count on the old Space Force to be on time!
There they were. The damned teenagers. Drinking and smoking glick sticks and throwing their beer cannisters on my lawn.
"Hey you kids," I yelled. The biggest laughed and stood up.
"What is it, ya old geezer?" He yelled and my smile broadened. Time to see if this skill was worth it.
"Get off of my lawn!" and I touched my cane to the ground. The earth rumbled, buckled, and tossed all thirteen of those little bastards dazed and confused onto the moving walkway, shock in their eyes as they drifted off toward the horizon.
Hot damn! It was worth living till almost 180 to finally get the Get the Hell off My Lawn skill!
|
I take no pleasure in this.
The house is one out of a storybook. Lush green yard, white picket fence, and small brick house. They know I’m coming – these incidents aren’t secret. I do it in the open, because no one can do anything about it. No one can stop me.
I walk up to the door. The welcome mat has the design of a small cat on it, but…no. I have to do this. I have to. The world will be thrown in chaos if I don’t.
I knock on the door.
The scene, I guess, to someone else would be funny. Here I was, an all-powerful Goddess, knocking on a door. To me it was just sad. I’d considered many many times letting someone else do it. Just send some of my guardsmen. But no. I had to do it myself, to remind myself what the price of all this was, the price of the golden age humanity was undergoing under their Goddess. Under me.
The door opens, but it is not him; it is a little girl. She is barely up to my stomach with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes. She smiles when she sees me. That alone tells me all I need to know. That bastard. This was just cruel, but…who was I to judge.
“Yes Miss?” She asks, looking at me with that same expression of solemn, innocent joy all seven year olds wear.
I kneel down to get to her level. “What’s your name?” I ask.
Before my time kids were taught to fear strangers, to not open the door to someone they didn’t know. But under their new Goddess, no such thing exists. There is no crime, only progress. Well, almost no crime, but the ones I committed were for the good of all.
“Faith!” she proudly declared.
“Well, Faith, is your grandpa home?”
“Mmhm!” She nodded, but then frowned. “Wait, are you here for Grandpa’s birthday? His birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”
“No, Faith, I’m here just in time then. Please. Just take me to him.”
Faith frowned but grasped my finger in one hand and led me through the house. We went outside to the porch, where an old man sat in his chair, looking out at the forest behind his house. Again, I was taken aback by the sight of it. I remembered being like that, old, frail, waiting to die. And then I’d changed. I’d evolved. I’d become a Goddess.
And this man was a day away from that.
“Grandpa, there’s a woman here to see you!” Faith said, still holding on to my finger.
“I know, Faith dear. Please, I want you to see what comes next,” the man said, not even turning to look at me.
“No, Faith,” I said, trying to keep my composure. How could a man be this cruel? She was just a *child.* “Please go in, I’ll be right with you.”
Faith frowned and seemed to sense in that way all children can sense when something is wrong. “Wh-what are you going to do to grandpa?” she asked, her bottom lip quivering.
“That woman, Faith, is going to kill me,” the old man said.
I said nothing.
Faith looked at me, here eyes wide. “B…but she looks so nice, Grandpa! She wouldn’t k-kill you.”
The man laughed. “Never trust how a person looks Faith. Trust what they do.”
“Please, Faith. Inside,” I said through pressed lips.
Faith puffed up her cheeks and shook her head. “No. I’m listening to Grandpa!”
So be it.
I walked up to the man, who still hadn’t looked at me and put my hand on his shoulder, then I just…killed him. No effort. No movement. I wanted him dead, and so he was. The power of a Goddess.
I stood at the porch as Faith cried over her Grandpa’s corpse, not saying anything. I offered her a tissue but she threw it aside and jumped on it.
I waited.
Eventually she quieted down and turned to me with a quiet intensity that was unsettlingly out of place on the face of a seven-year old. Her eyes were red from crying and I could make out the trails the tears had made on her cheeks.
“Are you going to kill me now too?” she asked, her voice perfectly calm.
“Of course not,” I answered. “You will have the best education I can provide, you will lead a life of luxury, comfort, and…happiness.”
She considered my words and nodded. Then she looked me in the eyes. “I’m going to kill you one day, Miss.”
I smiled at her, a smile that was weary and oh so tired. “You can try sweetie, you can try.”
With that, a Goddess led a child out of a dead man’s house.
***
(minor edits)
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
| 2018-06-23T13:18:44 | 2018-06-23T11:11:01 | 208 | 144 |
[WP] Human beings unlock skills as they grow up, walking, taking, etc. You are the oldest person in the history of the world, and today you unlock a skill no one ever had.
|
“Keep hitting me,” I screamed when I saw him holding back. The hammer, above a quaking arm, had been stopped in descent, quelled by clemency. I could see in Alex’s eyes a reluctance to bring it down again.
“Stop being so weak and strike me again!”
A wide pool of blood had pooled under me. For, not the first time, I knew I would have to force Alex into action. It hurt – my god, it always hurt so much. I hadn’t advanced so far by hiding from pain though.
My fist cracked against his rib cage. There was a crack and an inhale of breath and I saw anger flash through his eyes
“Do it!” I growled through broken teeth.
He brought the hammer down upon me but, despite the exhaustion I felt, I twisted out of the way. As the iron metalwork skimmed past, I felt the energy in me pass a new threshold. I had done it – mastered the combat skills.
Alex fell to his knees and, tilting his head back to the sky, roared into the morning sky. My comrade, my companion, my dear friend - I could not have achieved my many successes without him sacrificing almost as much as me.
He was the second oldest and most advanced man in the world after me; yet still very much in my shadow.
When nanobots were first programmed to up-level their host, he and I made a pact to work together, religiously, every day, every night, without fail. Pushing the other to his limits, we weren’t the first pair to think of exploiting the new technology to make deities of ourselves. But we were the most talented, the most driven and the luckiest. We worked at it systematically. Languages, maths, politics, art – we always worked carefully to level up efficiently. Our successes, at first, brought plaudits; we were sponsored by the government to succeed in our endeavours, to champion our country globally.
However, they didn’t account for our exponential successes. You see, once you mastered one skill, it opened doors to conquering the rest and we were hungry for them all.
Terrified by how strong we were getting, we were banned from levelling up as a matter of national security. But the world underestimated how powerful Alex and I had become.
On a sequestered beach in Malaysia, Alex and I were training in the most difficult skill strand – combat. As levelling up required besting your opponent, fighting was left until last due to the nature of it. Unlike, say politics, where you could best your partner safely, combat meant actually dealing harm to another. Alex was not comfortable with hurting me at first but I convinced him that it was a necessary process.
As he became more agile and the weapons became more exotic and dangerous, I felt myself nearing a score at an incredible rate and, now finally, I have achieved a skill no one has before.
As Alex went to shake hands with me, I felt a twinge of guilt. He had worked hard to help me, amassing millions of points in the process, and now I could steal every single one. Absorbing another person’s points was the new skill I had learned. I saw a terrible expression on his face as I started to draw his points in, shrinking them. I watched as he forgot the skills he had learned decades ago. He fell to his knees as I brought his levels down to when he must have been a toddler.
I left him crawling on all fours now, gurgling like a baby. I felt bad but so powerful. I knew what I needed to do now. Take as many points from other people as I could – keep unlocking skills – I’d worked hard and I deserved this more than the others. I leaned over Alex, thanking him for helping me to get to where I need to be good friend – he won’t be forgotten.
|
REPORTER: ANNABELLE HAYNES
INITIAL REPORT
-----------------------------------------------
SPECIES: HOMO SAPIENS SAPIENS
---------------------------------------------
LEVEL 1: AGE 0-3
Basic skills - walking, babbling.
The first year, Homo Sapiens infants tend to crawl on all fours; walking is only developed as a skill after they reach the age of 1. By the age of 2, babbling is unlocked - nonsense words, but a recognition of objects and faces is established. Object permanence is also unlocked; if you show a 2 year old a toy and then hide it, the child will remember what the toy is and where it has been taken. By age 3, basic vocabulary is established, rudimentary conversation can be had.
LEVEL 2: AGE 3- 10
Basic skills - Motor movement, fine skills
The child begins to learn to use their limbs effectively; gains proper control with the opposable thumbs. Is able to manipulate technology with their fingers; recognizes the world around them. By age 9, the child has developed slightly advanced motor skills; possesses the bare minimum of knowledge of several studies, including history, geography, maths, and the natural sciences.
LEVEL 3: AGE 10-18
By this stage, the Homo Sapiens develops their particular talents, be it in academics, sports, or the arts. Fine motor skills are fully developed; the child possesses basic knowledge in several fields; interests and hobbies are developed. Most children tend to be antisocial and withdrawn at this age; social skills are rudimentary.
LEVEL 4: AGE 18-25
Social skills are developed; knowledge grows exponentially. The Homo Sapiens member begins to question, adapt, and finally conform to the society they live in. At this age, most members are still questioning, and tend to be fluid with secual partners, and types of lifestyles that will be led. Due to the vast majority of cultures, most individuals have varied lifestyles, and can switch from one to the other.
LEVEL 5: AGE 26-55
At this level, most individuals develop particular skills related to their work - most manual laborers will develop skills of heavy lifting, most corporate workers will develop skills related to technology, and so on. Most individuals settle down to one particular lifestyle; change becomes difficult
LEVEL 6: AGE 56-90
Few skills are developed here; most individuals suffer from losing basic skills. By age 80, walking becomes difficult; sight is a skill that most will lose. Most individuals degenerate to Level 1 or Level 2 at this stage; when deterioration occurs, most individuals are taken care of by their younger offspring.
LEVEL 7: 90+
Skills - ???
--------------------------------------------------------
I shut the report, looking at the reporter across from me. Annabelle looked at me, unblinking, waiting to see my reaction.
“Alright, I’ve seen the report. What of it?”
“Please don’t fool around, Mr. Lee. We’ve had reports of people witnessing your...skills in public. Levitating a coffee cup? Causing an annoying waiter to slip and drop his dishes? Stirring some tea without touching the spoon?”
“Look, Miss Haynes, I’m just an old man, and I would very much like to go home now. Your ‘leads’ sound fabricated, and quite ridiculous. Please, let me go, or I will complain to your supervisor.” I sat there, hoping the threat to complain to management might scare her into letting me go. On the other hand, old-man charm works just as well.
She sighed. “I’m afraid that’s not going to be possible, Mr. Lee. My boss requested I keep you here as long as possible. You’re one of the oldest members in our society, and you’re the only one with this new skill. We need to know what happens when we age, and you’re the best study we have.”
I fidgeted in my chair. Getting out of her is going to be difficult, and if I revealed my skill, getting out of here would become impossible. There was one option, but I wasn’t ready to try that just yet. The side-effects were often permanent.
“All right, Miss Haynes, I’ll give you a deal. I’m an old man, and this room is uncomfortable. Is there any way we can get out, for some coffee maybe? I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”
She shook her head; he screamed internally. “I’m afraid I can’t allow that, Mr. Lee. You see, we tried to speak to you in a cafe, but you’re awfully agile for a 93-year-old. We brought you in because we need to know, Mr. Lee. It’s important.”
He was starting to lose his patience; a bad sign. He took a deep breath to calm himself, and said, “I’m just an old man. Like your report said, I’m losing most basic skills. How could it be possible that I’m gaining a new one? That’s not how it works, and we both know it.”
Haynes sat in her seat, stubborn and unreadable. “We have too many reports about this for us to ignore it, Mr. Lee. Either start talking, or nothing happens.”
Oh my God, how stubborn is this woman? I knew it was a mistake stirring the tea without using the teaspoon, but I had the newspaper in my hand, and I was already comfortable... Damn it. Damn her.
“All right, Miss Haynes. You win. I’ll tell you everything.”
“Really?” Wow, she genuinely looked excited. This would be disappointing.
I reached up, index and middle finger to the middle of my forehead, and concentrated. I focused on first, gaining control of her consciousness. I could feel resistance, but quickly, she succumbed. Most people aren’t used to outside forces to their thoughts to ever put up a fight.
“Bring the reports of my...skill sightings to me.”
She got up, eyes glassy, and left. I sat there, mulling over. I’d have to leave town soon; messing with a reporter’s mind will be tricky to explain away later. If she ever remembers what’s happened - either in a dream or a deja vu sequence - it would be even more difficult to escape. By the time I was done planning my route out, she was back. She silently handed the reports to me, and sat back down.
I glossed over them, noting which cafes and public points I would have to avoid, before stashing them in my bag.
“Now, Miss Haynes, please repeat after me. ‘Mr. Lee, it seems our reports on your skill level were misinformed. I regret the harsh tone of questioning, and I apologize for any inconvenience caused.’”
“Mr. Lee, it seems our reports on your skill level were misinformed. I regret the harsh tone of questioning, and I apologize for any inconvenience caused.” Her voice was flat, without any tone, emotion, or warmth. I’d have to work on that later.
“Alright, Miss Haynes, please get me out of here”.
10 minutes later, I strolled out of the office into the bright, warm sunshine. It was a clear day, perfect for going home and making some tea. I looked back, to see a senior officer peer worriedly at Miss Haynes - her eyes were still a tad too glassy.
| 2018-06-23T13:23:15 | 2018-06-23T12:14:20 | 44 | 27 |
[WP] It finally happens. An alien race with advanced technology arrives ready to conquer Earth and take their place as our rightful overlords. The only problem? They never considered that Warfare might take the form of physical violence.
|
Have you seen the old horror movies about invaders from outer space? They always came down, in their spacecraft that flew against all known laws of physics. They always landed in the White House lawn, ready to speak to our leader. Once the president comes out, they'd shoot him with a laser weapon that would vaporize him and send the world into disarray. Our weapons would be powerless; our technology, useless.
That isn't what happened when the aliens invaded Earth. Sure, their spacecraft still flew against all known laws of physics. But they didn't land in the White House lawn. They landed in an active war zone in the Middle East, their sensors fed off the violence in the region. They announced their intention to take over the world, instantly translating to a language that each person could individually comprehend. No one was ready for what happened next. One of the rebels, levied an RPG and fired right at the spacecraft. To everyone's surprise, not only did the rocket hit, the craft was completely destroyed! The alien, still on the ground, was shocked. It quickly turned around and fired his weapon at the rebel. The projectile harmlessly bounced off the rebel's body armor. The surviving alien, mouth agape, muttered something incomprehensible into a radio, then fired the same weapon into it's own head. This time, the projectile didn't bounce...
As it turned out, the aliens, advanced in rocketry and space travel, were not as advanced as we in the art of war. The alien weapon was examined, it fired a bullet, just like one from a gun - but a gun from several centuries ago. Their cutting edge weapons would have belonged in a museum on Earth. We also examined their wreckage, we were able to reverse engineer their space travel technology and were able to discover coordinates of the alien's home planet. The governments of the world have collectively built a small fleet of space craft to pay our new friends a visit, and have been discreet about their intentions. I don't know what the fleet will do once they get to the alien's homeworld, but I can venture a guess - have you seen those old horror movies about invaders from outer space?
|
It was faceless, four meters tall, dressed in shifting materials, and had nine limbs. Three ‘arms’, six ‘legs’, nine ‘fingers’. A farmer had shot it, claiming it had been self-defense. The xenobiologists, seeing the first time their existence had become relevant, pontificated of the creature's alien nature. Four limbs, they said, was our planet’s pattern for mammals. Even whales exhibited this quality. Studies indicated the alien had three hearts, each with nine chambers. Where its head might have been there were three cerebral organs. Multiples of three.
They hooked the head into a solution they believe could sustain the alien and fed a weak current into it. It was a long shot, but the alien did not die. Given a proper interface, it actually responded. First it was gibberish. White noise. But upon application of information analysis, it wasn’t noise at all. The creature didn’t warble air to convey thought. The alien’s language was a manipulation of electromagnetic wave functions. Language was information, and information had measurable complexity. Human language was wrought with redundancy, simplistic, and took many words just to tell a story. The alien’s language had room to enunciate every word the scientists in the room with it had ever read in the instant it spoke. When they presented it with the English language through binary signals, it understand immediately.
“I̸T ҉IS̶ ̴T͏R̛OUBL̛ES̵OME ̀COMMUN̕IC̸A̷T̢IN̸G ̷T́HR͡OUGH ͜A ͜MED͟I̡UM WE ҉HA̕V̸E AB̛ANDON͡E҉D Ą ̧MEGA͟YEA̸R͡ ̶AGÒ.̶ B̡UT̵ ̨I ͏WI̛L̕L ̢BE͘ ́BR͠I̴EF. O̕U͏R ET̢HI̧CAL͜ OB̧LI͜GA͟T̕IÓN͟S̢ ҉WE҉RE ̷T̢O ̕LÈT ȨACH̸ I͘NDIV͘IDU̸ÁL ON TH͢I͡S P̨L̶ANE͠T L͟I͢VE͜ ͟O͞UT̴ ̸TH̨E͠IR̢ LI͡VE̢S ҉ÌN SIMU҉LA̶TIO̸N̷ ͝UǸTIL̶ ̸ALL̵ ̧WERE͝ SÀTIS͝FI͟ED. ͜WE͠ DID̸ ̷N̛O̵T̡ ͟ACC̶OUNT͏ F͜O̶R YO̕ÚR ͠C͡APACI͘TY FOR ͜I̶L̶LOGIC̶S. N͜O SPEC̶IES̡ BEFO͜RE ͞H̵A͜D̨ ̨ATT͏E͘MP͡TE̡D TO̕ ͞I̴N͘IT̕I͡ATE H͡AŖM.͠ UP͘ON҉ I͏ǸS̶PEĆT͏ION̨,͜ IT IS͟ ҉OB̧V͟IO͠US̸ Y҉OU͞R P͝R̡I͝DE ̀W͜O͜UL͞D͠ HA͟V̵E͟ YOŲR KIND̴ F̀IG͘H̸T ́US̵ WH͝I̷L̡E͜ ͡Y̛OU̕ ͘S͜TI͞L̷L ҉D̸RA̶W̕ B́R͞EAT͘H. ͘Y̢O̧U ͠NOW ҉HA̧V͜E ́N̴I̷NE͠T͟Y RÓT͢AT́I̛O͟N̕S͢.҉”
The corpse later disappeared, along with remnants of a machine recovered from the farm.
For the first time ever, the world’s leaders pooled their resources. Petty differences were put aside. Peace was established in service of a greater cause. They prepared for *the* arrival. When *they* came, it was without subtlety. Instruments on Earth could feel the orbit shift as a foreign body entered the solar system. The skies grew black as their ships grew dense enough to blot out the sun. The continents tore at each other from the mere presence of the sheer mass of alien vessels.
But we won. As it turned out, the aliens had never seen the power of human nuclear missiles. They were no match. The battle lasted scarcely three months. At the end of it the world breathed a collective sigh of relief and went home to their families. Content in our unified victory, every single man, woman, and child on the entire planet went to sleep.
| 2018-10-13T22:10:32 | 2018-10-13T20:06:02 | 295 | 196 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts
|
A LONG TIME AGO, IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...
Earth.
A planet killing itself, slowly but surely.
Lands, divided by long stretches of water, plan each other's demise.
One nation in particular, so entrenched in violence and evil, is the target of the whole world's hatred, even it's own.
Nature itself tries to destroy the parasitic people that have maliciously ruined it. Sea storms ravage one coast, while droughts and wildfire rage across the other.
Amidst all the chaos, the people have turned to the only logical answer to their problems: Self-destruction.
However, not wanting to swallow their pride and admit defeat, they found a clever way to ensure their eventual extinction. They would ensure their future generations would not survive as long as they have.
Slowly, their method was gaining popularity, and more and more were returning to the "natural" life. Even as it met resistance from those that were unsure at first, it could not be stopped from claiming every family as the century went on.
Until now. Two parents have decided that the nation must live on. The culture must be preserved. The world needs saving, and only they know the secrets that will halt its "man-made implosion".
You are the last Vaxxer child, immune to the diseases of old that have been killing off every other child before the age of 3.
You are the last master of both technology and apathy, capable of annihilating others from halfway around the world without a care for consequences or emotions.
You are the last of the Americans.
|
Once upon a time, on the planet where out ancestors came from, there was an ancient war that was a bit different than the ones we learned about the era of old flesh. It never asked for blood in its name nor does it required the suffering of others. In fact, it was a war of words.
It all begins in a realm too ancient to be reached with our current technology, where a human man, climbed all the way up to his throne by bringing joy to his followers over many years of hard work. Despite only limited to primitive cuboidal devices that was commonly used at the time period, he ruled supreme for many Solar cycles undefeated. Throughout his reign, many legends had sprouted about his successes and his failures that could be pointed to the limitations of the primitive human brain. Well, this tale is not about his mistakes, you can download those into your consciousness from the archives New Library of Alexandria later. This tale is about his triumph over a enemy much bigger and stronger than him, just like the ancient story of David vs Goliath.
During the 5th Solar cycle of his reign, a new challenger had come to challenged the king's right to his throne. Whispers start of spread among the populace, wondering if the challenger will finally replace the king. It had more sentient workers than the king and it could provide more to its followers than the king ever could. It was like the AIs that was built during the Silicon Age, efficiently providing anything but their heart. It also had a strong influence in the physical realm long before the king even stepped his foot in the virtual one. Because of this, when it finally decides to test its strength in the king's land, it grew in power so fast that it caught the king off guard. He couldn't possibly defeat this obstacle alone.
Thus, came the commanders and the army who came to the king's side to make sure he wouldn't fall from his throne without a fight. The king's army consists of humans from the entire Earth who voluntarily supports the king in this war despite the limitations of their surprisingly young age. Meanwhile, the commanders consists of other influential humans from across the land who used their power to strengthen the army, using their name to bring in more soldiers to support the cause. Some of them even brought the fight into the physical realm using their own currency and time. One commander was noted to challenge the authority of the realm in which the war is mainly conducted. You see, the king wasn't the actual authority of the realm despite being referred to as the king. He was declared a king by the people since he's much more favorable compared to the real authority of the platform who had long betrayed the people in favor for others who could fulfill their greed like the wealthy enemy of the throne.
If the king lose the war, this authority won't just stop at ignoring the people, they would soon actively push them down to give way for rich clients to control the realm instead. The realm would never be like how it was before, a land for the people to express themselves freely using the tools it provides. No one wants to move to another realm because their home provides the best tools compared to other similar realms. During that period, that particular realm was also considered the central hub of entertainment for most of humanity. Instead of making a risky leap to other realms or watching their home crumble to dust, the people decides to choose another path instead, making sure the king wins the war.
With growing armada at his side, the king had gained enough influence and power to stay on his throne for just a little longer. When the war did not end quickly with the king's immediate fall from the throne, his... more regular enemies came closing in, preying on his growing name to defile it. They twisted the story of the war and told an uglier tale instead, despite having the responsibility to do the opposite. They use their large influence to deter new supporters away from the king to weaken him and his army. In the era of old flesh, they plague society by targeting humans' fragile emotions and grew powerful due to the lack of neurological and mechanical engineering that could have prevented humans' from being deceived by their bad journalism.
Remember what I said about this being a war of words, not weapons? The main weapon the king's army had used throughout the war is one simple phrase, "Subscribe to Pewdiepie". They went far and wide, using their huge numbers to spread the king's name to keep Pewdiepie on the throne of the digital realm of Youtube. The enemy, T-Series could only watch as the 9 year old army helped the king to reach 10,000,000 subscribers on the year 2019, when the war officially reached its end. The commanders like Mr. Beast. JaidenAnimations, Markiplier and many more was rewarded by their own rise of subscribers who appreciate the help they provided for the war. Meanwhile, the biased journalists didn't gave up and instead continue using Pewdiepie's new surge popularity to shame him for every little mistake he made until they eventually found the next prey to feed on. In the end, Pewdiepie still won the war and showed that Youtube is still a place for the people, not the corporations.
| 2018-12-25T05:54:21 | 2018-12-25T04:43:52 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work.
|
"Freeze! Or you'll FREEZE! Ha!"
Staring down the barrel of the freeze ray that Doctor Device was pointing at us,
I couldn't help but notice the unusual amount of detail he'd put into it.
"Wow, that thing looks really well built. Stylish but menacing. Reliable, too. I
counted eight shots so far"--I tipped my head toward the ice still clinging to
the shattered bank vault door--"and it's worked perfectly every time.
Impressive."
The Doctor's face turned red with anger, for some reason, but he hadn't shot us
yet, so Captain Awesome had a last moment to glare at me. "What the hell?" she
harshly whispered. "What kind of sidekick are you? How is complimenting his
weapon supposed to help?"
I shrugged. "I don't think it will help. I think he finally got us this time.
Look at that thing, it's a masterpiece. He's really upped his game. Don't you
think so?"
"Great, so he's finally figured out how to make things that don't blow up in his
face," the Captain growled. "So what?"
Doctor Device was shaking with rage at this point. Strange. Did he just not like
compliments?
"Wait a minute," Captain Awesome muttered, seemingly to herself. "Wasn't the Lab
Rat working on a freeze ray last year?"
Of course. Now it made sense. I looked back at the freeze gun, and my voice was tinged with
pity as I asked, "That isn't one of yours, is it?"
Doctor Device went purple, and I swear I saw actual steam come out of
his ears. Suddenly he smashed the freeze gun into the ground, stepped back, and
dramatically pulled a metal ball from his pocket. It had wires sticking out at
odd angles, a red button on top, and some kind of logo painted on, but the paint
wasn't dry and it left a smear on his lab coat.
"You call THAT a masterpiece? HA!" He shook the little ball, and a wire fell
out. "THIS is a masterpiece. With it, I can freeze the whole CITY! That little
rat's piece of junk"--he sneered, gesturing to the freeze gun on the floor--"was
nothing but a cheap copy!"
He raised his other arm and stabbed a finger down onto the red button. Nothing happened.
He looking down, adjusted a wire, and pressed the button again. This time there was a
faint sparking noise, and some smoke drifted up from the ball. He pressed it
again, and again, slowly sitting on the floor and hunching over the ball as he
repeatedly pressed the button.
Quietly, Captain Awesome walked over and picked up the freeze gun. She can be
pretty rough with the villains sometimes, but this time she just put a hand on
the Doctor's shaking shoulder. "Let's go, doc, time to go to jail. Tell you
what, I'll let you keep working on that on the way."
Doctor Device started crying.
|
The pavement where Adrian just stood was no more than moon craters and plasma at this point. Overseer sharpened his gaze as he, almost effortlessly, levitated toward the remnants of the Starbucks in the corner of 5th and Jayton.
"Nice manouver, kid. But you can't protect all of them."
He was right. The psychotic bastard was right, and Arian was painfully aware. In a pure 1-on-1-situation, he could probably hold his own against Overseer's telekinesis and matter manipulation. Just do his thing. But he couldn't go all out here. There would be absolute carnage.
The lady next to him was passed out under a pile of bricks. Blood was slowly seeping out from a cut on her dust-covered temple, but she seemed to be breathing normally. Whoever has been inside the Starbucks when it collapsed was probably in a far worse state. Clenching his teeth, Adrian slowly moved backward against the part of the main wall that was still intact, all while maintaining firm eye contact with the hoovering beast suspended 12 feet in the air in the middle of the intersection. Overseer tended to speak like a cultivated warlock, but was more like an animal for destruction, targeting fear.
Look away once, and face sub-atomic destruction.
Feeling the wall behind him, Adrian could detect no less than 17 heartbeats on the other side. Had the attack so far been without casualties? What a miracle! But how-
"It was all part of the scheme, kid. They will benefit me later. But focus on the matter at hand. I asked you a simple question: if the hand that feeds you delivers a blow to your cheek, do you take it like a good boy or server the hand at the wrist?"
Adrian could feel the dryness of his mouth making him lose composure like a desert storm building.
"And what the fuck kind of question is that, Over?"
"A simple one of loyalty versus self-afficacy. And a very urgent one at that. You are well aware of the predicaments of your contract. The limits set on you by corporate lobbying. The fact that Big 3 are responsible for more deaths and quantifiable suffering than all of us "un-contracted" combined. You know this, yet you remain complacent. Why? That is my question"
Adrians tounge was now welded to the roof of his mouth. He felt the cold sweat creeping from his pores, and the sickness clogging his trachea.
"You agree. I can feel it. So why? Why remain in line, when you can fight! Reclaim the world, reclaim your fam-"
From around the corner, this little man appeared like a train stopping at it's station just on time. He wore a black suit with an almost liquid surface, red hat and nothing on his feet. He carried a dictaphone in his left chest pocket and a notebook in his right hand.
Overseer looked down on the gentleman, who couldn't be even half his size, and scoffed.
"What they won't resort to these days..."
Adrian suddenly realized he could speak again.
"What on Earth are you doing here!? This is a Code Red Zone! Please sir, stand back immediately, and let me handle this. I'm a professional. I know what to do."
The old man blinked, and then smiled. He opened his mouth, with lips as thin as razor blades:
"ImPulse, great job securing the perimeter. I will take it from here."
whereupon he turned to Overseer, who was now noticeably annoyed by the arrival of this unknown creature.
"Hey there, Floaty. How's it going up there?"
"Floaty? That's rich, you little imp. Did you come here to find out what going through a quantum loop feels like?"
The little man smiled, but Adrian noticed that the razor lips seemed to cut ever so slightly sharper at the corners.
"No. I came to read you a verse. Hear it, Radovan Turner."
And then it began. Like out of nowhere. As if a rainbow had shattered and all of the fragments where pushed in reverse through your iris to painstakingly be conjoined again; a marriage never meant to last forced to parade once more in a ghostly apparition before jarred spectators. It was the death of timelines and the kidnapping of entropy.
It was, simply, binary.
"100111010001101100101111000010110010111001011000101011100100111111100100100100001100000011011101101010..."
The manically precise chanting seemed to be approaching light speed. It only took Radovan "Overseer" Turner the fraction of a second of confusion the spell allowed on his face to realize what was happening. Suddenly, his whole life was dissappearing into a black hole in the back of his mind: the Boom-box Brotherhood, the ragú nights when papa was home on a temporary leave, the flash cards that got him into Uni, Eleonore Carruthers, the house in Maine, the car loan, the first miscarriage, the war, the funeral, the layover, the hard work, the first day of sun after the depression, stealing waxed apples on the market to survive, the day he broke his promise to mama and used his powers for survival, the day he used them for sport, the day he figured something out, the day he... the day- what was it... today... HELP! d-r-o-w-n-i-n-g i-n-s-i-d-e... w h a t w a s I.... W H O
The code had reversed his entropy. He was now just a husk of flesh, forever out of sync with it's time, doomed to slowly decompose as his final moments of utter dementia played on repeat in the empty halls of his mind.
The old man stopped the dictaphone, logged something in his notebook and turned to Adrian.
"Alright, now that's taken care of. Well done, ImPulse! I will see to it that you are promoted. A dispatch squad will deal with the area. Lets get you cleaned up and fed!"
As Adrian walked through the intersection, he looked up at Overseer's body, now dangling lifelessly mid-air. Suddenly, something hit his cheek. He instinctively touched it with his finger and looked at the tip.
A small droplet of rainbow-hued water suspended itself on the edge of his nail.
Adrian let his eyes wander into it, and as he burrowed his gaze further, he could hear The Man reporting to someone in the background:
"No, that's not gonna be a problem. They have met before, and Pulse has never risen. He's a good boy.
He'll fall in line."
| 2020-02-25T14:46:46 | 2020-02-25T14:34:20 | 119 | 53 |
[WP]: No other intelligent, spacefaring life form knows the concept of sunk cost fallacy. For most of them, wars can be ended simply by presenting their capability for further war, and the weaker one yields. Humans, however, will take anyone on out of pure spite.
|
Barrak'domalanshavonokutumubala known to his friends as Barry welcomed the human delegation to the Dalarian Senate chambers to negotiate their surrender.
"Greetings! I hope your trip was pleasant?"
"The shuttles you Dalarians make ride *too* smooth leaving the atmosphere. I like to feel something." Chancellor Ashlyn Burr was an odd woman. Or did all humans prefer bumpy rides?
Barry offered her a tentacle.
Ashlyn grimaced at it.
"Isn't it your custom to shake hands?"
"Yes. Of course." Ashlyn grabbed his tentacle, squeezed tight and let go. She rubbed her hand on her shirt, so he rubbed his tentacle on his robe. Strange. She had brought a very large and primitive firearm to the chamber. Now that he noticed that, he noticed the other members of the delegation were similarly armed. Maybe the human religion prohibited them from putting down their weapons.
"What, you afraid of human cooties?"
"What an odd question. Of course not. We have biobots in the air right now," Barry continued talking. "My colleagues and I have written up a contract. All you need to do is sign. We'll leave a garrison on your moon, a tax collector in Ottawa and be on our way."
"What makes you think we're here to surrender?"
"Well, if my calculations are correct, in our first battle we destroyed 85% of your space fleet and accidentally destroyed Wales. Again, our apologies for that mishap. Perhaps you have another fleet we're unaware of? If so, of course we can continue the fighting. But if it's anything like your first one you must be aware that our technology far outclasses yours. So. As is customary among civilized species, we will accept your surrender and begin the trade of information and technology immediately."
"Right... No we don't have another fleet. But we aren't surrendering either."
"Is it human custom for the conquered to pretend like they haven't been? I understand. It must be a very good coping mechanism."
"Yeah. A *great* coping mechanism."
"Wonderful! We are very tolerant conquerors. We follow all of the conquested's surrender protocols."
"We aren't surrendering."
"Of course!" Barry winked at her with his third eye. "So. Any other ritual we need to follow before you sign?"
"You can kiss our human asses."
That custom was common among surrendering Booshamites. Barry wondered if they were distant cousins of the humans.
"As you wish!" Faster than the Chancellor could react, Barry slithered beneath the nearest human and pressed his beak into their buttocks.
The humans all drew their weapons. "What the hell!"
"I only did what you asked!"
A senator piped up "Maybe we all need to kiss their asses? Or maybe you're supposed to kiss hers first as she is their leader?"
"Oh dear. Was your ass meant to be kissed first?" Barry turned orange with shame.
The chancellor slowly lowered her weapon. "Oh you really are clueless huh."
"I apologize. How do I kiss your ass in the correct way?"
"Can I talk with my councilors for a moment?" The chancellor still gripped her weapon and she was looking at him with her eyebrows raised.
"Certainly."
The humans formed a circle. Barry didn't hear much of their conversation but he did catch the words "literal-minded", "sucker", and "really would do anyth...".
When the chancellor turned back to him she gave him a toothy smile. That was a good sign among humans!
"There is one human surrender ritual that should be followed. Our most sacred."
"Of course!"
"The victor *always* presents the loser with the following items..."
"Should I write these down?"
"Sure."
Barry grabbed a paper and began to write with his ink. The Chancellor continued. "The victor always presents the loser with their most advanced firearms and the specs on how to build them. They always provide them with all the specs and blueprints of their flagship. Actually on all their ships. Ooh, and guides on how to fly them. They..."
The list continued for a while. What odd requests. Finally the Chancellor finished her list and Barry sent for what she had requested.
"Is that all?"
"Yes. This will do nicely." The Chancellor looked quite regal with a Dalarian hand cannon.
"I'm so pleased. Can we sign the contract now?"
The Chancellor gave him another grin, bigger than the first.
"I don't think we will," she said. The humans opened fire.
|
It began with strange lights emanating from a wing of the Andromeda Galaxy. Then came the radio signals from a distant sector of the Milky Way. Scientists were baffled. They couldn't interpret the signals, though they were confident that they had been purposely sent by some form of intelligent life. They did not have long to be baffled, however. Mere weeks after the first flashes, the extra-terrestrial mothership appeared over New York City.
It was so large that it cast its shadow over all of greater New York, and half of Long Island, too. The ship itself was gilded in gold and pulsed with lights. Around it was an impenetrable aura of energy. It hovered silently up there, a mile above the city, for two days. That had given the top dogs of the American military plenty of time to lose their minds.
In the war rooms, officers screamed at generals, who screamed at the president, who pulled at his hair. Was it an alien ship? Was it the Chinese? Was one of them, say, the president himself, still in bed, dreaming? If it was aliens, had they come to conquer, or simply make contact? If it was the Chinese, had they come to conquer, or simply to flex their new technology, in the hopes of making the Americans bow down in awe? If it was a dream, would the president have to reevaluate his reliance on Ambien? Sure, he had heard many stories of people being driven nearly out of their wits by the stuff; but he had always believed his constitution was too firm and unshakeable, his mind to sound, to be undone by a little pink pill. The president had so many questions; but there was one thing he was certain about: if this wasn't a dream, if it really was happening, he would need to take Ambien by the fistful if he ever hoped to sleep again. That was how cranked up he was. That's how cranked up everyone was.
The most rested of the bunch had slept for an hour or two. They were exhausted, bordering on delirious. So when the lights suddenly dimmed in the war room, and a prismatic void opened up above the conference table, most believed they were hallucinating. A dark, protean cloud billowed through that preternatural tear in the fabric of space, and that cloud began to take the shape of a human being.
"Hello," it said, in a friendly voice. "I am a representative of the Andromedean Empire, come to absorb you into the fold. I apologize for our unceremonious arrival. It must have given you quite a fright. We generally like to warp outside a civilization's discovery range, so we can do our preliminaries without getting them too worked up. Alas, what's done is done. Nobody is perfect. A phrase we picked up from you, during our intelligence gathering, and with which we agree wholeheartedly."
The president was catatonic. He had turned white, and looked like he hadn't breathed in three minutes. Someone had to do something. Someone had to say something. Someone had to take charge.
"Absorb us into the fold, eh?" said commander Stern, standing up from his seat and puffing his chest out. "If you think we'll go meekly and quietly, you're mistaken. You're talking to the proud owners of tens of thousands of nuclear bombs, not to mention hundreds of thousands of other forms of advanced weaponry. Lasers that can shoot jets out of the sky in an instant. EMPs that can make that pretty little glittering ship of yours go dark and plummet to the ground. Not to mention millions of patriotic Americans who would love nothing more than to smear your guts on the sidewalk. You wanna talk war? Talk war. But your bark better be as bad as your bite, or you're in for a world of trouble."
The whole room was silent. Most of the men and women were still wrestling with the belief that this alien apparition was nothing more than a delusion their sleep deprived brains had cooked up. Those who were more grounded listened to the commander in horror. Was he really measuring dicks with the imperial messenger of an intergalactic superintelligence? What could speaking so brazenly to this alien possibly accomplish but consigning the Earth to vaporization?
"I don't believe you understand," said the vaporous humanoid. "Our research has been thorough. The destructive capacity of the entirety of your arsenal, and I am speaking of your planetary arsenal, not simply your nation's, amounts to less than one one billionth of one percent of the destructive capacity of the ship we came here in. And that ship is not even a warship. Your species is thousands of years away from creating tunnel void atomizers, and millions of years away from G-bombs. In short, you are hopelessly outgunned. Simply acknowledge yourselves as a vassal planet of the Andromedean Empire, and we'll be on our way."
"I hardly understood you before," said the commander with quiet rage. "But now you're speaking my language: the language of war. You know who I am? Commander Stern. Not Tuck-and-Run Stern. Not Capitulator Stern. Commander. And I command you to take back your veiled threats this instant, and run back to whatever shithole you come from with your tail between your legs, or you'll regret it. We've got more missiles aimed at your ship than I've got hairs on my chest. And I'm as close to a sasquatch as a man gets. Now that's gospel."
"How peculiar," said the alien, with genuine puzzlement. "This is a highly unconventional attitude. I've never heard of a species with enough reason to reach your level of civilization, and yet still enough brute animality, enough irrational pride, to take on a losing battle rather than concede. You lose nothing by declaring yourself our vassal. It's merely a legal requirement, a kind of formality. It allows the Empire to monitor your planet, and assist you with your evolution and progression."
"We don't want it," said Stern. "We don't need it. We're Americans, you bastard. The freest folks alive. We went to war with an Empire for our independence. And I'll be damned if we won't go to war with another one to keep it. So you tell that to your head office, to your emperor, to whomever you need to tell. We won't capitulate. We won't surrender."
"The only other option is elimination," counselled the alien. "Think hard, my friend, my friends. See reason. In an instant we could have your whole solar system squished down to the size of a pea. Is that what you want? It's not what we want, I can assure you. But it's our policy not to allow intelligent life to thrive without monitoring it, and it's also our policy to monitor only those planets that are members of the Empire. You see the bind? You see the situation you're in?"
"I see, alright," said Stern. "We all see. And I think I speak for all of us when I say you go to hell. Bring us the best you've got, because you'll need it. We won't cower like beaten dogs. We won't simper and bow and whine. We'll take you head to head, even if it means glorious death on the battlefield. We'll fight for our freedom. For our honor. For the sake of our kids and grandkids. We'll fight for the love of crushing alien brats like you. Don't like it? Tough shit, you shapeless freak. Because we won't go down without--"
A steel coffee thermos came down hard upon the commander's head. The commander staggered and fell to the floor in a heap. Behind him stood the president, still holding the thermos. He looked up at the alien messenger.
"We accept your terms," said the president with a quavering voice. "We'd be honored to join the Andromedean Empire. Tell your emperor, *our* emperor, we send our regards."
| 2021-01-18T22:29:03 | 2021-01-18T22:20:50 | 344 | 80 |
[WP] “Y-you! How did you get past all of the evil empresses death traps and mazes?!” “Evil empresses? I’m just bringing my wife some lunch. Who are you?”
|
The black-robed figure froze. “Y-you! How did you get past all of the evil empress's death traps and mazes?!”
I rubbed my chin. “Evil empress? I’m just bringing my wife some lunch. Who are you?”
"Norgol, the Lacerator."
"...right. And, hang on, did you say *empress's*, like, belonging to an empress, or *empresses*, like, multiple female leaders?"
Beneath the hood I saw Norman or whoever he was scowl. Friendly guy.
"Anyway, like I said, I need to get this to my wife before the tuna melt gets cold, so..."
Norman stretches his fingers toward me and begins chanting, guttural and harsh. Green energy flashes towards me, then a giant purple disc appears in between it and me, causing it to rebound on the robed figure. His hands went to the sides of his head and he screamed loudly before collapsing to his knees.
I scratched my nose. Then I walked around him.
I entered a large room where my wife stood, an ebon dagger gleaming in her upraised hand. "Hi hon," I said as she brought it down on...
...my brain fuzzed over. It's been happening to me a lot lately. Oh well.
"Babe!" she said, with one of her amazing wicked grins. "So good to see you." She wiped something off her face...maybe paint?
I walk over to her and hand her the paper-wrapped packet. "You know, your office chair doesn't look very ergonomic. That rigid back has got to be killing you. Can I get you an Aeron chair?"
She looked over her shoulder at the black chair with the skulls adorning the arms. I blinked, then shook my head. Not skulls. Why would I say skulls? I chuckled.
"Babe," she cooed, "are you having another one of your spells?"
I swallowed, then gave a dejected nod. "Here," she said, producing a crystal decanter. "Have some of your medicine. You'll feel better soon, I'm sure."
I downed the contents of the decanter and smiled at her. I'm so lucky she's in my life.
|
I should have expected this kind of reaction. I know Cici always tells me I shouldn't bother her at work, but I can't help it! One time isn't going to hurt anything! Well, except maybe my face. Or an arm. However, nothing was going to stop me from finally having lunch with my gorgeous wife while she's at work!
"I'm Katerina, the Empresses' valiant and loyal secretary. If what you're saying is true, I'm going to need some kind of proof of your relation to her, at once," the woman before me states firmly. She had a stereotypical secretary look, red cat-frame glasses, long black hair kept up in a tight bun, pristine white blouse, black pencil skirt and black stilettos. Her ruby red lips were pursed in a frown as she awaited my response.
"Oh, a ring not enough proof? What, does Cici not keep a pretty family picture of us on the desk with our two kitties? I'm insulted!" I gasp with a hand over my heart. Okay, not really. Cici isn't one to exactly... broadcast our relationship. However, I know why she doesn't. Her work can get very hectic, and the knowledge of her having a relationship with me, or anyone else is very dangerous information. As far as the world is concerned, she is a self-centered, self-righteous bitch who just wants to take over the world to watch it burn while she laughs on her throne of bones. At least, that's what the news likes to say about her.
Before the secretary could get more mad, I went ahead and got my phone out of my purse. "Hold on, I'll show you, okay?" I say. I unlock my phone and flip through some pictures. I find one of our wedding photos, opting for the one with her in a handsome black tux, and me in my large ballroom, sparkly dress. I turn my phone around to show her. Her red eyes stretch wide as she snatches my phone out of my hands, her mouth agape.
"WHAT?! CELESTE GOT **MARRIED** AND SHE DIDN'T INVITE ME?! OR ANYBODY FOR THAT MATTER?!" Katerina screeches, zooming in on our faces. There was no mistaking Cici's pale white skin, long and flowing black hair, shocking blue eyes, and her characteristic little smirk of happiness. She always did have a hard time with smiling.
"Look, please don't make it a big deal. She wanted to wait until later to have a *full* ceremony, but it looked like she was gonna win, things didn't pan out, we already paid the deposit... It was a whole ordeal, and she's still really sensitive about it," I explain, taking back my phone. I flip to the other photo of Cici when she was wearing her sexy black wedding dress, form fitting, elegant, beaded with red and silver linings. I was sad that she didn't wear the dress more, but I forced her to make at least one grand entrance at the reception in her dress. I just wanted her to feel beautiful, give her the center stage like she wanted but didn't want to take away from me. I showed Katerina this picture, where you could also see the "Evil Empress'" beautiful smile.
"Oh... Oh Empress Celeste..." the secretary says much more softly. She reaches out and holds my phone more delicately this time. She understood the treasure that was this particular photo. "She looks so happy. She has never smiled like that before. Not even when we hit out very first near victory. She's so... reserved."
"I know. She's been hurt too many times to let her hopes get up," I agree with a sigh. The curse of being a chosen rival of a hero, wasn't it? I never understood how those things went about, or why people don't understand how it's a *job* not *her*. A job forced upon her by the real governing forces, something that "unifies the society" or some other bullshit like that. It's taken too seriously, almost like a reality show, or worshiping celebrities. You get so attached to their identities, you forget they're people. And some people forget they don't really *know* the person they worship personally at all.
"I... I apologize, ma'am. Uh..." Katerina starts before looking to me apologetically. She must have realized she never asked for my name.
"Oh! Abigail, but feel free to call me Abby. It's a pleasure to meet you, Katerina. Thank you for keeping my wife so organized," I introduce. After putting away my phone, I offer her a hand. She accepts it and gives a small shake and a nod.
"Of course, it's my job. Now, as for Cel-- I mean, Empress Celeste. She should be in her office, down the hall, grand red double doors with her logo. You can't miss it. Careful, she's been... well, you'll see," Katerina goes on with a frown. She then adjusts her glasses and heads off.
I adjust my purse, as well as double check the lunch bag to make sure everything was in order. I knew Cici's traps and mindset well enough to have been able to avoid getting hurt, but I wasn't 100% confident about how the food handled the maneuvers I made. I started down the hall, and was able to find the grand red double doors Katerina described, at the top of the stairs. Walking up the stairs, I prepared to see my beautiful wife, potentially all of her rage; Empress of Evil, Celeste.
| 2021-09-08T13:07:44 | 2021-09-08T12:06:51 | 588 | 175 |
[WP] Your escape pod crash landed on an alien planet. Badly injured, a local farmer took you in, but their species only lives for 3 months. It took nearly 3 generations to fully recover. That was years ago and you’ve been protecting the family ever since.
|
They say he is a god. But they are wrong. He is not.
I still remember, many moons away, when I was a child, I didn’t know that there was anything special about the Elder. Sure he didn’t talk, and, sometimes he would make sounds… you know… with his mouth… there were special rules around him, but so were for every animal that we had at our farm.
His house would shine at night… it’s so bright like a third moon has been lighten up in the sky. Obviously such a thing would attract an adventurous child such as myself. And, I would go there a lot, against my parents pleas not to bother him. I would just come there and look at his work. The Elder didn’t seem to mind.
He had so many shiny things. Weird deformed straws and sticks. He would pick one, try something, leave it. Sometimes he would make a noise, sometimes it would be loud. It can really catch you off guard, but well it’s a part of the fun, you know.
One day I was looking at him work, when he got up took the piece of paper from a stack I brought him, and left. He would sometimes do that. Go to our fields… I don’t know why. He would literally not do anything and look at you weird if you would follow him.
Anyway. He left, and he would be gone for a while. So it was my time. I had his house for myself right now. I instantly reached for the first straw I could find. It made a scratchy noise when I took it. The next thing I know it lets out a beam of red light and leaves a hole in his roof. Needless to say he comes running, his lower apparel half down, and sees me.
I was scared as all hell. It was so bad I fell on the ground and pretended I was dead. He ran to me and started trying to help me and making sounds. So… yeah I gave up and stood up. Upon seeing this he… put his arms around me? And didn’t let go for a couple of seconds. I was scared of what he might do, but when he finally let me go and I was able to see his face he showed me his teeth. My mama told me that when the Elder shows you his teeth it means that he’s happy to see what he is seeing. He was happy I was fine.
There is another memory. Far less distant. Memory of a war.
The neighboring kingdom declared a war. They wanted our fertile land. They wanted to take our cattle. They came to our village. They came to every house, they took all it’s residents, they brought us to the central market. They said they now own us. Not the village, us the people.
That’s when the Elder appeared with the same straw I foolishly touched as a little girl. The straw made the same noise and let out the same beam. You could feel the air getting hotter even seating below the beam as it strikes down all invaders.
In the chaos one of the enemy soldiers managed to shoot him in an arm with his crossbow.
I ran to the Elder as soon as I noticed. He didn’t even look at me. He pulled out an arrow. I could tell he was in pain. He bandaged his wound. I was so glad he’s okay. And that’s when it downed on me. I put my hands around him and held him for a moment. When I pulled back he showed me his teeth.
I would check up on him from time to time. To see if he is still hurting. He is. His life is longer but so is his pain. So I would put my hands around him and look at his teeth.
If he can bleed he can die. He risked his eternal life to save ours. He took up my lifetime of pain to save us. To save me.
The Elder is not a god. Where have you seen a god do that? Maybe that’s why he has fallen.
Whoever is reading this. If you are it means you have inherited the Elder. Please take care of him. Find out what makes him show his teeth. Do it more.
|
Footsteps? I lay in bed, keeping my eyes closed, breathing heavy, appearing asleep. A locals leg was still draped over my thigh, her head on my chest. Her breath was heavy, she had not woken. Not daring to move, I squinted open my eyes and scanned my chambers. Dim blue light from the city below cast shadows, but not enough to hide the figures creeping into the room. My heart began to smash against my ribcage with such force I thought this consort would surely wake. Slowly, slid my arm down the females back towards the gap between the bed and wall. My only chance.
I had known they would come eventually. Notariaty had it's perks, but only being an simple engineer on the mission I had never even dreamed if how to handle this.
. . . . . .
It had not been my fault about the farmer. He had been curious and kind. When he took me back through the forest he tended he fed me sweet white fruits and rich purple nuts. He led me to his colony under the roots of a Greater Tree. I could understand so little those first few days. But they were magical. I was regarded with wonder, the creature who had fell from the sky. But it became clear within weeks I was no gift as these delicate creatures began to die.
It was clear I had brought some virus they could not handle. How quickly they withered. These tiny blue humans, moving so quickly, talking so fast with high pitched laughter. I could not understand how they could have so much joy when within a month the farmer who saved me was dead, along with all his friends.
I was slow and cumbersome to them, but also a giant with unfathomable strength. The builders loved me, but the warriors were jealous and suspicious. I cared not for the glares they shot me, for whatever I had brought would destroy them all.
For weeks I could only focus on the death. When I recognized the farmer's daughter had just given birth, my shame almost destroyed me.
These aliens treated me as one of their own. They had even begun to build me my own house of huge timbers, with elaborate carvings and space for the whole colony to gather together. They showered me with food. They fed me The Orchid that made visions and my sadness left me. I began to see.
The child of the farmer's daughter was healthy. Her mother somehow, despite my pathetic attempts to master the language, understood my feeling. She tried to show me how happy she was to have a daughter. Of course, the farmers daughter soon died. But it was then, as I watched her child grow, that realization dawned.
This planet moved on a different rhythm. My own sadness from being the only survivor of our failed mission clouded my understanding.
. . . .
My hand closed around my sabre, wedged between the wall and bed. Yes. I had known all along they would seek to reclaim power. The air in my chambers felt too still.
"Whhaarrgghh!"
I leapt from my bed, casting my consorts tiny form into the corner, away from the assassins. Sabre drawn, I thrust into the nearest shadow, it cried and fell. With a single swing I cut down another, threw my bedside table, crushing a third against the wall.
With no more in reach I took stock of my situation. There were more than I could count. I lashed out at the circle forming, backing me towards my bed. My reach was far greater than theirs and I took another victim. But this time one of their spears caught my arm. I gasped, my red blood making eyes around the circle grow wide.
More entered through the doorway. I could not kill them all. But they only circled me, watching my sabre, spears tracking me.One avoided joining the circle, he went to the opposite corner and activated the light bands.
The blue light illuminated these men, most two heads shorter than I, with light blue skin and black eyes. Though small and slight their strength still surprised me. And they were fast in their light armor, black like their eyes. Their fine, sharp features twisted in hate for me. They were normally a beautiful race, it was a shame it had to end.
The being in the corner smiled. Purple gums and teeth stained orange. While only a descendant of the one who had planned this the likeness was unforgettable.
. . . . .
I watched the original farmer's grandaughter die. I felt sadness, dispite that I barely knew her. However, she too gave birth and I felt deeper connect to this new child. How fast she grew, and for every short day would come and chatter at me. She began to teach me how to speak.
It would be one her sons who would show me many more words. He brought me into the forest and showed me how to forage. To prepare The Orchid. With language I began to show them my own skill- I taught a generation how to build.
Perhaps it was selfish. We built a greater home for me before the leader of the colony gave his blessing. Most wanted to learn my new craft and hear stories of another world. In time, I began to understand my home was a temple. And, what they tought of me, as they spun elaborate clothes. They offered women, I chewed leaves that made me feel no pain and took The Orchid daily for visions of a world I would build.
I admit it. I had been nobody on the expedition from earth. And here... I was a king. I was changing the colony forever. With workers to my bidding and nature abundant with The Orchids wisdom I would usher in a new age.
They brought untold amounts if women to my temple. I made the lineage of the farmer who helped me my royal guard and advisors. We took leaf and Orchid until the real world and visions were too mixed to separate.
The leader of the village came. He payed tribute at first, but would not bend the knee. In an intoxicated rage he was the first I killed.
The tribe fractured. The sons of the man I killed took who was loyal and left. They burned the Greater Tree in contempt. They poisoned the grove in which they had lived since the time of their ancestors. I had never known such hate. I was too deep in leaf and lust to care.
I rebuilt in the only way I knew. Like earth. We took down the remaining trees and planted fields of the grass ground for bread. And of my precious Orchids.
I taught them agriculture. And we began to build an empire. I was a god-king, the farmers lineage my ruling priests. We drew other tribes to us. We built from stone. Metal. We created light. Others deperately traded for our technology or we used it to bribe them into our new world.
But, The Orchids would not grow like the bread grass. Instead I taught the aliens how to make beer from the grass. The people forgot The Orchid. I cared no more for the visions either; all my resources were devoted to my rule.
. . . . .
The circle closed around me until the man in the corner ordered a halt. My consort, sensing doom, began to cry, breaking the silence. The leader's smile flickered, with a look he ordered a warrior over to her. With a swift strike the assassin killed her. My eyes fixated on her purple blood. The leader strolled over to her reached into his robe and withdrew a soft pink Orchid.
Still smiling, the descendant of the farmers colony watched my face as he threw down The Orchid into the blood.
"You cannot be God" he sneered. His smile disappeared and he flashed a hand signal to the room signaling my execution.
| 2021-10-22T21:42:15 | 2021-10-22T21:29:12 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] Everytime a threat to the world looms, a group of "adventurers" will appear in a city tavern, nobody saw them enter, and sometimes they have races in them not even found on the continent. It's your goal to find out more about these, "adventurers"
|
I swear, it was never supposed to turn out like this.
"Lower him into the pit, Simon."
I really just wanted to research the mysterious natural phenomenon of the saviors.
"Come on, get on with it. We only need one more."
I was never supposed to get involved in something like this.
"Just one more sacrifice and the ritual will be complete!"
So how on earth did I end up here?
Well, no use crying over spilled milk, I suppose.
I watch impassively as Simon drops the young man into the pit. Took him long enough. I really ought to hire better minions.
"Oooh," I mutter. "It looks like the blood is finally beginning to fill up the ritual circle! Everyone gather round and watch as we usher in a new era of this world! We will destroy it all and everything will be born new again!"
*They're late. Why aren't they here yet?*
I begin to worry. If they're not here, then I've done all of this for nothing. I have killed, HUNDREDS, no, MILLIONS for the sake of my research, and I will have learned nothing. I will have sacrificed my own family to the great Void, and for what?
No. They have to show.
We have evidence that they appeared in the Lakestill tavern some months ago, one of the three I allow to continue functioning. It certainly did help narrow down where they might come from, but they managed to escape before I could capture them.
I need to understand why they do the things they do, where they *come from!*
I thought we had them when we followed their trail of chaos to a potion shop, with the owner slain and the potions ALL empty, and evidently fed to a small green hamster in the corner.
Alas, they had already left the vicinity, playing us for fools yet again.
After we lost to them in the great tournament arc, I realized the truth. The only way to speak with them was to get them to come to me.
So here I am, a ritual at my feet, plans to destroy the world in my head. I really, really messed up somewhere along the line. I should have been more patient. But they just, *WOULDN'T SHOW UP!!* There hadn't been a crisis for at least seventeen years, and I would never have met them if not for this.
I am justified. It was the only way.
The blood trickles into a tiny depression in the ritual circle stone and colors a small piece of white cotton a deep, dark crimson. Tendrils of Void begin to stem from it, consuming the stone around it, digging through the crevices and crannies and eating all the space.
They BETTER show up soon.
|
"We need soldiers, not anthropologists!"
Lord Nobertyn slammed his fist on the table so hard his chalice fell over, spilling mulled wine all over the scrolls prepared by the Guild of the Learned. Guntroy Nebbis hastily salvaged what he could while the rest of his colleagues remained frozen as frost tulips, worried they might anger their lord even further.
With the recent rise in attacks on several Rhune villages, the Guild knew that what they were proposing would be consider a fool's concern. The harvest lingered in jeopardy. Provisions meant to last years were running low. And here came a party of well-fed weaklings requesting their lordship's support for an expedition that would, at best, result in half a dozen scrolls added to their library?
"If I may, your lordship," said Nebbis.
"Speak," lord Nobertyn grunted.
"Your soldiers are renown for their skill and bravery. All across the kingdom children argue over who gets to play the Rhunic soldier and from Zakhar to Rhedys cunning men drop hints that they are under the employ of the great Lord Nobertyn, which is sure to make the eyes of young maidens sparkle like lake Caissaeres."
"The people of Rhune carry the blood of our namesake," said lord Nobertyn as his servant refilled his chalice. "It's no wonder they make better soldiers."
"And yet," said Nebbis, "the adventurers make a mockery of them all."
"Guard your tongue, peasant!" cried the lord as he stood up in a fit of rage.
Exactly as Nebbis had calculated, the mention of these mystical characters with access to powers rivaling even Gotthelm Rhune would be sure to capture the attention of his liege. Now that he had gotten it heated up, all he had to do was to keep prodding him with the poker.
"If offered to trade a handful of your finest soldiers for a handful of adventurers, would you not accept?"
"I would trade the Guild of the Weak for a handful of turnips. How's that for an offer? Ah, if only there were any takers."
"The purpose of our mission is not merely to study these adventurers, but to recruit them."
Lord Nobertyn furrowed his thick brows and glanced up as if considering the seriousness of these words. Finally, he rejected the notion with a grunt. "Not for all the gold in Rhune would a Zakharian come to our aid. They are devious, crooked men. Little more than a generation has passed since we humiliated them on the battlefield. Still they have not as of yet learned their proper place."
"First of all," said Nebbis, "that is not accurate. Sure, most Zakharians may harbor a resentment toward Rhune but there are plenty among them who stand above such petty squabbles. Take Olay O'Fhonso over here." Nebbis extended a hand toward the scrawny O'Fhonso who hadn't moved since Lord Nobertyn spilled his mulled wine. "Olay spent his childhood in Zakhar and now he is a proud member of the Guild of the Learned."
Lord Nobertyn made a grimace as if a servant had tripped holding a chamber pot. "From his figure I might believe it. That is not the build of a Rhunic man, to be sure."
"My dear Olay," said Nebbis. "Why don't you tell great Lord Nobertyn what they say about adventurers in Zakhar?"
Lord Nobertyn crossed his arms but nonetheless leaned in to hear what the Zakharian had to say.
"Well, it's ... You see, sir Nob—UH, I mean dear great Lord Nobertyn—there's, well, a different story told in Zakhar about the adventurers."
A guardsman stepped forward to discipline the Zakharian but Lord Nobertyn signaled not to interrupt. "And?" said Lord Nobertyn. "What is it you say in Zakhar?"
"Go on, dear Olay," said Nebbis.
"In Zakhar we say that adventurers all come from Rhune. And if I may speak frankly, my lord?"
"You may."
"If the adventurers were Zakharian would they not have taken part in the war?"
Lord Nobertyn scratched his bearded chin. "It is said they all have sworn oaths not to take up arms against humans. Their powers are reserved for use against beasts."
"That is what they say back home as well, my liege, when I pose the same question."
Lord Nobertyn studied the faces of the learned men before him, wary of trickery. If it were true that adventurers weren't Zakharian, then where did they come from? Finding an answer to this question could just be the solution to their current woes.
"You shall have the coin to embark on this mission," said Lord Nobertyn. "And Sir Glennroy here will see to it that the coin is spent wisely."
A towering figure emerged, seemingly from the tapestry behind their Lord, with a face looking like it was carved from a beet.
"Just got back from Rhedys," said Sir Glennroy. "The sun burned worse than my piss after I spent a night with a Zakharian whore. That's why I'm all red."
O'Fhonso looked over at Nebbis, urging him to condemn this insult. Nebbis, however, held his tongue.
Lord Nobertyn guffawed, then restrained himself. "There will be none of that on this expedition, I expect?"
Sir Glennroy shook his head with confidence. "Sun's not that strong up north."
"The whores, you dunce."
"Why, of course my liege. I wouldn't dare empty the royal purse in the face of a northern courtesan. That's not something I could get behind. My trust is my honor, my lord."
"Very good, Sir Glennroy. The rest of you lot have much to learn from a virtuous Rhunic soldier," said Lord Nobertyn while pointing a finger at the Guild of the Learned. "That settles the matter. May Rhune be with you on your quest."
The Guild of the Learned, and Sir Glennroy, made their exit. Nebbis carried with him the scrolls he had brought along, some wet and some dry, with an excited grin plastered on his face. It was time to discover the nature of the adventurers.
**TBC**
| 2021-11-03T09:46:32 | 2021-11-03T08:24:08 | 243 | 93 |
[WP] Your kingdom lies in ruins and the demons are at the gate. You hold the sacred relic that has been passed down for countless generations to your lips and speak a prayer in a long forgotten language: "Orbital Strike on my location"
|
"Why the fuck won't they request assistance?" Michale asked Gabriel. "Are they really that stubborn?"
It had been over a millennium since the independence war had given the colonies their freedom. Colonies that spawned colonies of their own, who in turn colonized. Humanity had hundreds of inhabited worlds and thousands of systems had human presence, but the homeworld was still remembered. When traders had announced that an old bioroid weapons facility had somehow been activated and wiped out the Terra trading station every single world had sent aid.
And that aid sat, watching helplessly as the engineered monsters slaughtered the people on the planet of humanity's birth.
After the war, the non-interference treaty was signed. Most of the survivors on Earth had gone into a sort of voluntary neofuedalism. The trading station was the only really high tech area remaining. But surely the people were still taught history and science. They must still have the technology to defend themselves.
But the ships and soldiers, doctors and clerks watched impotent from the ships above as those below used swords and arrows against monsters designed to shrug off lasers and tank rounds. It was maddening, to just watch as people were slaughtered. As men and women fought so bravely but uselessly against monsters they couldn't hope to harm.
Michale looked at the projection again. 17 days to the extermination of the population of the planet. Already a 52% drop since the task force's lead ships had arrived, and that was after a third of the planet had already been 'cleansed' by the bioroids following their default programming.
There were probably politicians at home who would welcome this. Once the local population were all dead the treaty would no longer apply. New colonists and traders could settle on what was probably still the best planet for humans. Hell, Gabriel came from Alphcent, one of the closest worlds, terraformed in the first wave. They would be happy to offload their excess population. Her dark musing was interupted by a chirrup.
"Ma'am, signal!" The comms officer's excitement was shared by everyone on deck.
"Put it through." Gabriel ordered. As captain of the warship it was his bridge and Michale was just the 'guest' who happened to be his commander.
The computer warbled, and the bridge heard "holy angels, let my sacrifice be accepted, orbital strike on my location. I repeat, if it be your will, orbita*urk*." The sound of a death ripped at Michale's heart.
"Do we have a location?" Michale snapped.
"Yes Ma'am, northeast North America, an old settlement called New York. It appears to be completely overrun. That was likely the last survivor."
"Gabriel, I am logging this as an official request for aid. This allows an exception to the Non-interference treaty of 2351, per subsection 4 dash A dot 17 Bravo." Michale had the damned passage memorized.
Strictly speaking Michale wasn't so much bending the rules as placing a black hole next to the line and sending it into non-newtonian space. It was a request for a single strike by someone who was no longer alive to verify permission.
But if she was court martialed, busted to seaman, and spent the rest of her life in the brig for this she didn't care. A good commander has to break rules sometimes. So she gave the order.
"Land troops and medical assistance and begin orbital strikes. Starting with old New York."
(This was originally going to be longer, but it felt better to stop here).
|
Belyn, the last king of a dying nation, fled to the centre of the Holy Valley where the great temple lay. He was just twelve years old, having earned the crown a year before when the Demons took his father. His plate-clad bodyguards used their broad shields to ward him from any threat as they hurried to their destination. He paused at the temple steps and turned back the way they had come, looking down the thin dirt road that stretched for half a mile across the Holy Valley to the low rise that marked its boundary. It was a carefully sculpted bowl of land, near perfectly circular with a boundary lip that rose thirty feet above the land level beyond, and sharply dipped to a hundred feet deep inside the Valley itself. As he watched, crimson-skinned Demons began to scamper up the border rise. He had, in his youthful naivety, briefly dared to believe the holy place itself might be enough to repel his foes. Alas not.
Inside the temple were a handful of elderly clergy and a host of refugees - women, children and those men too old or injured to stand in defense of their nation. He waved down one of the faithful. "Father, take me to the reliquary at once! We must bring forth the Old Arcana!"
The elderly priest's eyes flickered with fear. "My young liege, you know not what you ask. These relics of the Old Age are not for mortal hands."
The child king willed himself to act as a man would. He pushed back tears and wrestled his emotions into line, forcing himself to speak calmly and with purpose. "Within this chapel now stand all that remains of our people. We cannot save ourselves now, and your prayers have gone unanswered. We must do as the King of Arath did."
"Summoning the Lord cost that king his life," the priest reminded young Belyn.
"I know, Father, but if my death is the price of salvation for my people then I pay that price gladly."
The priest put a kindly hand upon his shoulder. "You have a pure heart, highness. Perhaps God will see that, and save us. Come."
The Rod was not what Belyn had imagined. The paintings of the royal palace portrayed the Rod as a great staff of gold, studded with jewels and topped with a great diamond. The relic before him was black, like a polished river stone, and was not even 'rod' shaped at all, but a rectangle. He glanced to the priest, who gave permission with a nod for him to approach, and took the Rod up in both hands. "What do I with it?" he asked in a whisper.
"The ancient texts speak of an incantation. Recite with me." The priest began to chant a phrase that meant nothing to Belyn: *Vypia wun actiaal te oribit alif taeninnir. Cyumbec alif taeninnir*. Belyn joined the chanting as best he could, his hands clutching the rectangular rod tightly. He let his eyes close and focused on the sensation of the device in his hands. It was cool to the touch - smooth, yet not slippery, like ancient leather. The front face under his thumbs was colder, and he shifted his grip to put his right palm upon that face on the assumption this difference of texture was significant. "Vypia wun actiaal te oribit alif taeninnir. Cyumbec alif taeninnir!" he said again, growing in boldness with every repetition. Yet nothing was happening. Or rather, nothing was happening to the Rod; from upstairs he could hear muffled cries of panic. The Demons were here.
Belyn's eyes snapped open and he fixed the device with a teary scowl. "Why won't you answer?" he snapped at the relic. "Why, God? We need you!" He dared to shake the device, to the priest's horror, and did so with such lack of care that it slipped from his fingers. He caught it again as it tumbled, but as his fingers snapped shut around the device he felt something give way. He let out a cry of alarm at the sickening thought he'd broken the relic, and as he steadied himself the young king became aware of a faint sound now escaping the Rod. It was a hiss like falling sand in an hourglass. He tried to steady his breathing and spoke the holy words again. "Vypia wun actiaal... te... te oribit alif taeninnir. Cyu- cyumbec alif taeninnir!"
When the Rod spoke back, Belyn almost dropped it out of fright. "*Whoes tis*?" the voice from the Rod said. It was oddly accented, speaking with a tone and cadence Belyn had never heard any man speak in before.
"Oh my God, my Lord and Saviour, I am King Belyn son of-"
The voice of God interrupted him, "*Voc aysis indicn yuunae Vypia wun actiaal! Spraet ur dazig.*"
"I... I don't understand, Lord!" Belyn stammered, teary-eyed at the enormity of addressing his creator. "Forgive me, but I do not speak the Old Tongue!"
The Rod hissed quietly for some time, its gentle sound seemingly counting down the seconds before the Demon horde broke through. "*Language recalibrated. Please confirm your understanding*."
"Yes! I understand, Lord!" the young king cried. The priest behind him fell to his knees and began to weep, so overwhelmed was he by the divine miracle.
"*You have reached Orbital Weapons Platform Alpha Two-Niner. You identified as Viper-One-Actual, but voice analysis indicates this to be a falsehood. In addition, Viper-One-Actual's last contact was three-thousand eight-hundred and sixty three years, eight months, four days and seventeen hours ago. It is not possible for a human to have survived that long*."
"I... I simply spoke the holy words, Lord," Belyn answered weakly. "We recited the phrase of the Last King of Arath, as recounted by the Speaking Stones of Yyr. But please, my God, hear my plea and aid us! We are besieged in your holiest of places by the Demons! I beg you deliver us as you did the ancient king of old!"
"*I am unable to process your statement*," God said, followed by a pause. "*This system is accessible only to authorised personnel. You do not have clearance*."
"Then... then what must I do to have 'clearance', my God?"
Another pause followed, during which the priest fetched one of the holy books. "My young liege!" he whispered urgently, offering up a passage. "Perhaps this is the 'clearance' our God demands?"
Belyn looked at the seeming gibberish on the page. With the priest's help, he spoke aloud the incantation. "Orthatatn... yekko sarra ninner tee bavo hotl yun aert yekko."
The buzzing sound from the Rod became more urgent. "*Authorisation code recognised.*"
&#x200B;
**Continued in comment below**
| 2021-11-08T10:43:58 | 2021-11-08T10:14:48 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] The Fairy hesitated. She knew tradition demanded that she curse the new born princess for not being invited to the christening, but it wasn't her fault the messenger fell off his horse. She decided to get creative with the wording.
|
She wasn't recognized until she wanted to be, of course. It was simply a gift of fairies that they would always look like they belonged until they wanted to be recognized. It often gave the impression that they appeared suddenly.
She stepped forward.
"Your Majesty, your messenger had a *most* unfortunate accident while on his way to deliver the invitation to me. You really ought to give your messengers more sure-footed horses."
The crowd gasped. They knew what that meant.
She looked down at the princess. The princess looked back with innocent blue eyes. *How sweet.* She took a deep breath, deciding how to word this.
"Dear princess, never shall you marry until you have completed one quest: Find the one who values not your kingdom, or your title, or any amount of wealth, but you as a complete and independent person."
She could see the face of the princess' father, the king, go stony and white in anger -- but of course, there was nothing the man could do. The fairy gave him a satisfied little smile. There would no marrying this princess off to the first princeling who came along.
|
I sighed, then looked up at my master. She had been ranting about how stupid the tradition was before coming here. “Master, are you sure you want me to do this?”
“You never got the chance to practice you incantations back at the academy,” she gave me a pat on the back while also not so subtly pushing me forward. “Curses were never your strong suit, so go ahead.”
I swallowed. I *had* told her that. What I didn’t tell her was that most of the curses became combat spells. More accurately, pyromancy. I took the first steps to the cradle. Everyone watched, this being my first time. My master, on her first take on the curse, accidentally made the cradle sentient. At least no one was hurt. I looked back at her. She mouthed “simple chronic transformation.” That was… ok, she won’t turn into a fireball. How about two extra eyes once every lunar cycle? Yeah. Yeah, I can do that. I closed my eyes and held my hands over the infant, then began the chant. “Enso feras merka nello, enso feras merka nello…” I focused on the image, the child. I pictured two eyes right above the first, then decided to toss on horns for good measure. Now I just have to keep it straight for five minutes. Four minutes. I could hear whispers. I should ignore that. I keep the image maintained. Three minutes. There’s… shouting? Keep the image the same. Two minutes. More shouting. Must be a couple people against the tradition. Ignore it. The ritual has started and it will end horribly if ended prematurely. One minute. Sounds like people are panicking. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Thirty seconds. Ok, this is going to be A OK-!
“Dragon attack!”
Crap. The picture changed to that of a draconic beast. I can fix this! I can fix this! I hear glass shatter and I’m blown off my feet. I can’t fix this. In fact, I may have just killed everyone.
——
“Gregory? Gregory!” Someone is shaking me. I open my eyes. It’s master.”
“I… I messed it up, didn’t I?” Man, I need some water.
“Did you mess up the spell? Yes. Did you also subsequently save everyone? Also yes.”
“What?” I sat up. There was a large hole in the wall, scorch marks around it and the cradle. The cradle itself was unscathed. I looked around some more. The King and Queen were accounted for. There were no bodies strewn about. “What happened?”
The King walked over, holding a little girl in his arms. “That spell you casted. What was it?”
“Just a minor hex that I learned from another teacher, why?”
“Minor? Well, if it was enough to devour a dragon, then what’s major? Although, I am glad that it was the dragon and not my daughter.”
Devour? Wait…. “Master, could you create an image to show what happened?”
She nodded and flapped upwards, sprinkling some charcoal and diamond dust around. Both substances began bonding and morphing into a scene. I stood in the center of an orb of a transparent barrier that encased both me and the little princess. A dragon had just broken through the wall and was frozen, barreling towards me and the girl.
“Now move forward a few seconds.” The dragon flew into the orb, then began wrapping around it. Oh no… Mr Flay, why did you teach me this spell?
“Boy, are you alright?” The king asked.
“No. The dr-dr-dragon was not devoured by the spell. Not it’s b-b-body. It’s soul was most likely sent to the next world. But the body… I’m afraid…” I sighed and looked at the stone below. “Your daughter m-m-may be burning your curtains on the next new moon. Also the spell was interrupted, so I don’t know wh-wh-what else may occur.”
The King’s face contorted. “I’m sorry, what was it that happened?”
My master recognized the situation and the dust structures collapsed. “Your majesty, you heard him correctly. Although I’d consider it lucky that only your daughter was affected.”
The King gave a nod and left to tell his Queen.
My master looked back at me. “It was only the princess who was affected, correct?”
“There was one other.”
“Who?”
I stayed silent for a moment. “We should make repairs before we leave. Maybe add fire protection glyphs to help with the new development.”
—— I give a challenge to the reader to make part 2 to this! Read more stories at r/GlacioWrites
| 2021-11-08T16:49:22 | 2021-11-08T15:04:13 | 87 | 42 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once.
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HONK HONK
“I heard there was a birthday here. A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard there was a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!”
The man at the front door looked confused and angry, his muscles bulged out of his stupid little tank top and his eyes darted around furiously, scanning the space behind the clown.
“What the fuck is this, do I look like I’m having a birthday party? Who sent you?”
“I’m a special kind of clown for a special kind of boy. Here to say ‘Happy Birthday Billy’ just for you.” The clown reached out to boop him on the nose but the man grabbed his arm and twisted it hard behind his back. The clown gave a hearty chuckle and the man hesitated.
“That’s not very nice, Billy.” The Clown’s arm broke off in his grip and the clown spun around to hold the man in a bear hug.
“Birthday hugs are the best hugs!”
“Who the fuck are you, what do you want?” The man dropped the fake arm.
“I want to say hello to Mr. Dangerous.” The man’s composure slipped. It only lasted a second, but it confirmed everything. The clown’s voice changed suddenly, dropping several registers.
“Oh Mr. Dangerous. You’re my hero.” His lapel flower sprayed into the man’s face and he began to scream. The clown let go and watched him collapse to the ground, the skin of his face melting into a puddle.
“That’s for LaSondra. She didn’t make it out of your cute little fire.” The clown said, circling the man as he slowly melted.
“I did a little money laundering, sure. You burned my wig shop to the ground. You killed my employees. You ruined my life. You call yourself a hero?” His oversized shoe landed hard on the man’s back. A rib cracked like splintering wood.
“I’d better be careful, Mr. Dangerous. I’m acting more like a hero by the minute, wouldn’t you say?”
The man’s left arm was liquifying into a reddish brown mucous. The man was pressing a button on his shirt furiously with his one good hand, though it too was beginning to melt.
“Don’t bother.” The clown said, “the ‘super squad’ won’t be coming. But I’ll pour you into the container I’m keeping them in if you want. Well. Whatever bits of you I can scoop up.”
The man’s screaming stopped. The clown gave another chuckle and skippped his way into the kitchen.
“I heard we have a birthday here! A birthday where? A birthday here! I heard we have a birthday here and I’m Bobo the Clown!” He sang as he scooped what was left of Mr. Dangerous into a Tupperware container.
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"Oh they've done it this time," I clench my fist in anger.
Ever since that night, I've never liked those who act as if they're so self-righteous, but I never really cared for this whole system up until today. It's all over the news, the almighty hero, Grandis, raided a suspected corrupt business.
"There has always been something suspicious about this business, sadly, I didn't get to meet the boss," Grandis said on the news. With that, I left the scene.
I barge into the supervillain headquarters and fill up my gears. Never having trained in the magic sector, I'm well-versed when it comes to physical fights.
"Never thought these nullifiers would come in use," I mumble to myself as I load them in.
Before leaving, I went to the archive and pull out a map under the sector "Grandis." It's a map of his whole headquarter. I take a picture of it and upload it into my watch.
"Ey, where are ya goin Dolofonos?" a fellow colleague asks as I head out.
"Grandis's headquarters," I answer shortly before leaving. I heard that same colleague trying to stop me, but by that point, the door was already closed and I have gone into the shadows.
I never take myself seriously and will mess up on purpose, but this time, I don't have any room to be my usual playful self that messes up in missions.
&#x200B;
Slipping into the headquarters, I take out a janitor and change into his uniform. I scan his face with my watch and replace mine with his, that way, no one will suspect me. I push the now out-of-it janitor's tools and act natural, it will only be a matter of time until someone finds his body or until he wakes up, until then I need to create chaos.
Suddenly, everything becomes a big commotion and staffs gets busy...ah yes, it should be about time when Grandis walks into the headquarters. I quickly bring myself upstairs and using the janitor's card I made through most of the security. Once I've gotten far enough, I abandon the tools and change back into my assassin uniform. While all of this happen, a commotion suddenly erupted in the floor below.
"Geez," I roll my eyes, putting up my mask. I look into the hallway, which is the one that can get me into Grandis's office. Just as I thought, CCTVs and motion detectors, but I don't see any traps surprisingly.
"Quite the confident hero," I tell myself as I shoot a bug into the CCTVs, causing it to malfunction long enough for me to get through.
Hacking my way through the door isn't all that difficult and once it's opened, I made my presence known.
"Well hello there," I say nonchalantly, playing around with my hand gun.
I saw one of the staff try to call the emergency button but I shot at his hand, causing him to move his hand back. I saw another one reaching for a gun then proceed to point it at me. I look at her with and shot her using a non-lethal bullet twice on the shoulder and on the head, causing her to pass out.
Then one by one, the staffs gather their weapons and point them at me.
"I was going to ask you all to just leave, but it seems like you decide to do this the hard way."
&#x200B;
"Grandis, you have another patrol in three hours but until then, please rest up in your office," the manager say as she looks at her tablet.
"Got it, I'll see you later then," Grandis waves goodbye to his manager. "These damned supervillains, causing so much trouble for heroes, bah."
Opening his office's door, he sees an unwelcomed guest.
"Why hello there, I don't remember inviting a supervillain into my office," Grandis nonchalantly says, "nor do I remember my staffs all passed out when I left."
By that point, I have finished knocking out his staffs. Normally, they would be killed but I don't have a grudge against them, it's Grandis.
"Well perhaps you should've attach more security to avoid getting uninvited guests," I twirl my dagger around, not even giving Grandis a glance.
After a short period of it, I end up looking at him, who by the way is glaring at me. I sigh and slid my dagger back into it's socket.
"Okay, I get it, you want to know why I'm here, yes?" I give him a cold look, "Long story short, you decided to raid my business and injure my innocent employees. I may be a villain, but I care about them."
"Aha! So you admit that the business is indeed corrupted," Grandis points out.
"Just because a supervillain owns it, doesn't mean it's corrupted," I sigh, "you heroes are so annoying sometimes."
Grandis hears just about enough and tries to power up, but at that moment, I raise my tranquilizer at him and shoots a nullifier, hitting him at the right spot. With that, his magic dies down.
"Wh- what...." Grandis looks at his hands confused of what just happened. I take this chance and leap across the room to smack him in the face and kick him down.
Now Grandis might be quite dependent on his magic, but he's still physically strong. Easily throwing me off, he charges at me. Although....his big and muscular body does make it easy for me to predict his movement which allows me to easily tackle him to the ground.
"You're powerless against me, Grandis," I mock him, "you're too dependent on magic that when it's taken away from you, you become pathetic."
That enrages Grandis and he gets back up to try and push me to the ground. I got out of the way and pull the trigger, causing live-ammo to pass right through his right thigh. I then proceed to pin him down and inject a paralyzer.
"I hope this becomes a lesson you'll remember Grandis," I lean down to whisper to him, "don't fuck around other people's business without launching a proper investigation."
"If you mess with my employees or colleagues, you mess with me. Remember that."
| 2022-11-29T06:39:56 | 2022-11-29T04:09:55 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] An evil witch curses you with a guardian angel. Why?
My first prompt!
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The day I was born my fairy godmother appeared, as is the custom, and summoned from the air the most amazingly beautiful figure anyone had ever seen. Six foot three, pure muscle with giant wings sprouting from his back, this naked adonis glowed with holy light. Golden hair ran down his bronzed back and wide blue eyes reflected the sunlight.
That was 18 years ago. I know now that my fairy godmother truly hated me.
"Come on, lets go clean the stables." Walking slowly to the shit filled stables, my shovel on my back, I tried to avoid the crowds of gorgeous young women who lined the streets of the small village where I lived. It had been like this my entire life. At first, it was fantastic! So many beautiful women always around seems like a dream to a 12 year old, but when it became perfectly clear that they were only interested in my guardian Angel, Stephanus, it started to get old.
Angels don't change. Apparently they don't wear clothes either. I've spent my life with a nearly omnipotent chiselled naked Aryan demi-god with wings walking behind me. As the chubby son of a minor noble, it's caused me some problems. I'm always compared to him. When I was 10, I learned to ride a horse. He flew beside me. Which would you watch? Right. Dating? Uh-huh. Water water everywhere, but not a girl to kiss.
Steve's not all bad himself though. It's really not his fault. He doesn't sleep with any of the women, that would be unholy. The most he does is try to get them to pray more. He's also not all that intelligent. It's like having a puppy. A really well meaning well hung puppy that's actually a 6 foot tall god-man. He cares about me, but it seems like they don't have personal space in heaven which has made for a few awkward situations. It took a while to get used to him watching me sleep.
We shovelled shit. It's nice not to have to do that alone at least. I swear though if a Fairy Godmother shows up to the birth of my children (not that I'll ever have any at this rate), I'll know exactly what to do.
I'll use this shovel to make a godmother popsicle.
|
At first a guardian Angel sounds like a blessing. That is, until you find out that you're part of a prophecy that includes your death at the hands of an Angel. That's why the witch cursed me, to hasten my end.
The Angel assures me that he does not intend to harm me. How am I to trust him? Even though he understands that I haven't walked such a path in many years, he insists that I have faith. I assume he means religion, but sometimes I do not know.
Today is the day that the prophecy is to come to "fruition". Today is the day I die. The Angel assures me he will not harm me.
"There is folly in the words of the witch." The Angel's sing-song voice would have been soothing if I weren't on edge. "She knows not the extent of her mistake. I promise, I cannot harm you. I can only guide you."
"Guide me to what? My end?" I scoffed over my coffee cup, "You know the prophecy. I die today."
The Angel merely smiled. His soft brown hair seemed to glow under the kitchen lights. I would have been at peace if not for the prophecy.
I feverishly watched the clock. The witch had told me the exact time I would die: February 2nd at 10 am. I had thirty minutes left. For the first time in a long time, I began to silently pray.
The Angel seemed to know what I was doing, because he bowed his head until I was finished. He gave me a knowing look and continued to stand vigil across from me. It seemed like he was waiting for something. Perhaps he was waiting to kill me? I began to doubt myself. Would he really kill me? He seemed so peaceful, so benevolent.
A flurry of feathers and light appeared near me. A loud metallic clang jolted me from my thoughts and I scrambled from the chair. I pressed my back against the wall and stared at the scene before me.
My Guardian had locked swords with a - a *fallen* angel? The Fallen one had a strange aura about him. It was as if he were radiating pure evil.
The Guardian pushed back with a blade of pure light. He kicked the Fallen in the stomach, leaving a faint imprint of light. The Fallen retaliated with a blow to the Guardian's jaw. The Guardian wiped -blood?- from his chin and moved into a defensive position in front of me. His brilliant white wings spread in front of me like a holy shield.
*"Mortal."* The Guardian's voice echoed in my mind, *"You will not die this day."*
I saw the Fallen extend his hand towards the Guardian. A writhing ball of *fire* was in his hand. The blast hit the Guardian in the chest and sent him flying into me.
I wriggled out from underneath the Guardian and peered through my ruined kitchen. The Fallen had a sinister smile on his face and he was headed my way. I glanced to my Guardian. His eyes were closed but he was still breathing. I shook him in a desperate attempt to rouse him from unconsciousness.
The Fallen had reached me. He held me by the neck against the wall with one hand and had a darkened blade in his other. He meant to impale me on my kitchen wall.
"Any last words, mortal?" The Fallen's creaky voice made me cringe involuntarily, "Any last words before I devour your soul?"
I was shaking with pure terror. I don't know what I did to deserve this but I was not going down without a fight - provided I could put up one.
"Yeah," I wheezed, "Your breath smells terrible and you look like you haven't had a hair cut in seven centuries. You look like a total waste of space."
The Fallen snarled in my face -confirming what I'd said about his breath. Strange, in my final hour I had chosen to insult a fallen angel. It's not like I wasn't going to die anyway. I braced myself for the sting of the blade and closed my eyes.
I heard a loud swish and I fell to the floor. Without opening my eyes, I felt for a wound but found none. I slowly opened my eyes to see the Fallen dangling in the air before me. My Guardian stood behind him, holding the sword of light that poked from the Fallen's chest.
Slowly the Fallen looked down at the sword and gurgled. Black streaks of liquid poured from his mouth and he tried to raise a hand towards me. The Guardian held up a hand and a wall of shimmering light surrounded me.
*"Close your eyes."* The Guardian's voice echoed in my mind once more.
I shut my eyes tight and turned my head away. I do not know what happened to the Fallen, but judging by the loud suctioning pop, I probably didn't want to know. I only opened my eyes once more when the Guardian rested his hand on my shoulder.
"By 'cursing' you the witch broke her own prophecy." The Guardian's sing-song voice comforted me for the first time since I saw him, "This is not over. She has set in motion events that she cannot fathom. I cannot say much only that you are the world's next hope."
I sat silently for a few moments and let the Guardian's words sink in. "The world's next hope?" I didn't know if I liked that idea.
"Worry not, young mortal." The Guardian softly stroked my hair, "I am here to guide you. I shall not harm you."
I simply nodded. He extended his hand and helped me to my feet. I glanced around my kitchen and sighed. I was happy to be alive, if not in some shock. As I scanned the kitchen, my eyes rested on the clock. It was 10:15 am.
| 2014-01-30T19:09:20 | 2014-01-30T18:51:14 | 107 | 33 |
[WP] You're a member of the only government agency to officially accept the existence of paranormal entities like demons and ghosts- Child Protective Services. They come up a lot in that line of work.
|
I knocked on the door again. "This is CPS!" I called. "Hello? Hello?" I stepped to the side and tried to peek in the windows, but could see nothing but the faint outlines of shadows through the cracks in the blinds. I glanced back at Zeke. "No one's answering. You getting anything?"
He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a low hum. "Yeah. Auras. Bad juju in there. Definitely signs of life though."
I hate this paranormal shit. This wasn't what I signed up for when I became a social worker. But it turns out that CPS is the one government agency to actively get involved with demons and hauntings and possessions on a regular basis. Something about children's souls being a common battleground for demons or something - that stuff gave me goosebumps every time they talked about it. So now I've got Zeke - Ezekiel over here, serving as spiritual backup. This was the house of Raymond and Alexandra Hollister, and their six year old son, Micah, and if the reports we were getting were accurate, there was some real, real bad juju going on down here.
I walked back to the door and tried to rattle the knob, and it turned without effort. The door creaked open. I glanced at Zeke. "I got you covered," he said, and reached into his bag and tossed a medallion at me. "Wear that."
"Ugh," I said, and slipped it around my neck. "Hello?" I called out, opening the door and stepping into the house, and then the smell hit me. "God!" I leaned back out, fighting the urge to retch. My eyes were watering.
"Demons have been known to, uh, exacerbate bodily functions," Zeke said. His nose was wrinkled and he was edging away from the door.
"Yeah, yeah," I said, and ventured inside, pressing a handkerchief to my nose. Even in the dim light, it was easy to tell the house was a disaster. The carpet was matted with various bodily fluids, at least the little of it that could be seen through the piles of trash on the floor. Old newspapers, cereal boxes, empty cups, cans, trash bags, unopened envelopes, piles of ash, scattered over the furniture and onto the floor. Roached scuttled freely between them. "We need to call for -" I started to say, and then stopped at the sound of a thin faint wail, coming through the house. "Zeke. You hear that?"
"Uh-huh," he muttered.
I stepped forward, struggling through the piles of trash, deeper into the house. The sound was coming from a closet. Zeke was whispering chants, brandishing a silver cross in one hand. "Go ahead," he said.
I flung open the door and gasped. Inside was what had to be Micah Hollister, although looking at him I would not have guessed he was six. He was tiny and covered in sores, his ribs showing, a pair of dirty stockings tied around his wrists and suspending him from the clothes bar. He was wearing only a pair of filthy underwear, and he was crying faintly, half-conscious, barely even acknowledging my presence. I struggled to untie the knots, and Zeke quickly passed me a kris and I sliced through them. Micah collapsed, and I scooped him up in my arms, whispering to him.
"You're okay now," I said. "You're safe now. Micah? Can you hear me? You're safe." There were deep bleeding welts in his wrists. "So?" I said to Zeke. "What's going on? Demonic possession? Or ghosts? Or what?"
I carefully cradled Micah in my arms as Zeke took out a small flask from his bag and dabbed the liquid on his fingers. He wrote out a symbol on Micah's forehead, watching for any reaction. He took out a cloudy crystal and peered through it, looking around the room. At last, he stood up straight and packed his trinkets and talismans away, looking at me troubled.
"Nothing," he said finally. "No signs of anything supernatural at all."
|
The black phone rang on the desk interrupting Diane's crossword puzzle, she picked it up, idly tapped a pen against her lips and listened.
"Yes, ma'am, I will be right there. Yup code 12, got it," Diane wrote down a name, Tiffany Drake, and an address on a yellow sticky note then took another long glance at the crossword puzzle. Five letter word for Hamlet's Father, *screw it,* she grabbed her black suit jacket and pulled it on. It barely concealed the large black revolver in the shoulder holster.
Night had fallen and the full moon shone brightly in the warm summer sky. These were the nights Diane lived for, she wished she could let her hair out of the tight bun it was wrapped in so it could fly free in the wind, but she was on a job and professionalism is what the CPS was all about. She pushed the gas pedal down further on her small convertible car and sped toward her first visit.
Tiffany Drake's house was located on the edge of town. It was a cute small cottage home with white trim, with blue shutters, small flowers beds decorated the yard and flanked the stone walkway to the front door. Diane lived in an apartment and hated gardening, but she wouldn't deny that it looked lovely. She focused on the task at hand and politely knocked on the door and put on her best smile.
Diane had to wait and knock on the door again, louder this time, before the door finally opened. A tiny old woman peeked her wrinkled face around the door and adjusted her nightgown.
"Do you know what time it is?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am, it's very late and that's why I'm here. Diane Willow from CPS." Diane stuck out her hand, the old woman ignored it.
"CPS? Did my granddaughter call you?" she asked with a scowl.
"I believe so. May I come in and have a look around?" Diane asked flashing her bright practiced smile.
"Fine, if it will make her stop having nightmares, honestly that child..." the old woman turned away from Diane and shuffled deeper in the house muttering to herself.
Diane crossed over the threshold and immediately felt a temperature change. It was as if she had just walked into a deep freezer. She rubbed her arms and began looking around the entry way. Pictures decorated every surface and wall, black and white photos of great grand parents to colorful pictures of a little blonde girl that could only have been Tiffany.
A tiny voice turned Diane's head toward the small stairwell. A same little blonde girl stood at the top of the stairs clutching a worn brown teddy bear. Tiffany's bright blue eyes were wide and staring directly at Diane.
"Are you here to make the bad man go away?" Tiffany's small voice barely carried over the distance to Diane.
"I am. My name is Diane Willow, and I'm here to help," Diane said gently, walking up the stairs toward Tiffany.
"What is your bears name?" Diane asked as she reached the little girl.
"His name is Archibold," she said confidently holding her stuffed bear forward for Diane to see.
"He looks very strong, does he protect you from the bad man?"
Tiffany nodded and grabbed Diane's hand with a strength that was surprising.
"Okay, let's go check your room then."
Tiffany led Diane down the narrow hallway toward the room at the end. The walls were painted a soft pink and a small pink four post bed sat against the far wall. The room was a little too girly for Diane but it was the perfect room for a girl like Tiffany.
"He comes to the window every night," Tiffany said cowering behind Diane.
"Okay, you get in bed and try to get some sleep, I will stay up and wait for him to get here, then we will have a nice chat," Diane said guiding Tiffany to the plush pink bed.
"Promise?" Tiffany asked.
"Promise."
It wasn't long before Diane could hear the slow steady breathing of a sleeping Tiffany. Diane sat with her back against the wall so she could watch the window then eased the black revolver out of the holster.
"Wake up Wolfram," Diane whispered to the revolver.
"Nooooo....a few more minutes..." a deep voice whispered in her mind.
"Now Wolfram!" she said shaking the revolver.
"Fine, damn, I'm awake."
Wolfram was always bitter at having to do work. Diane remember the first time she had found the demon possessed revolver. *Ah, memories,* she smiled.
"We've got a code 12, so I need your help," Diane said.
"What's a code 12?" Wolfram asked.
Diane sighed, "ghost, there is a ghost haunting this little girl." She gestured toward the still form of the sleeping Tiffany.
"Aww, what a sweetie, it would be a shame if someone possessed her..." Wolfram said. Diane could feel his grin in her mind.
"I will banish you forever."
"It was a joke...lighten up."
Diane was about to say something when her skin broke out in goose bumps, her breath curled out in thick white mist.
"It's coming," Wolfram's voice filled her mind.
Diane leveled Wolfram at the window and waited. A ghost that affected the environment this dramatically was powerful. A pale white hand pressed against the window pane, frost spread out in every direction as if kissed by a winter wind.
"We need it to come inside," Wolfram said trying to calm Diane's nerves. She hated that he could feel her emotions, but he was right.
The white hand turned into ice fog and slipped through the gap in the window. It fell heavily into a cloud at the base of the window before solidifying into its true form. A seven foot tall wight stood in front of the window looming over Tiffany.
"Now," Wolfram commanded in her mind.
Diane squeezed the trigger gently and the gun kicked like a mule. The bright muzzle flash was almost blinding in the dark confines of the room. The magic bullet tore a massive hole in the side of the wight's chest. Diane squeezed off three more rounds into the wight. It roared in pain and charged her.
"Don't let it touch you!" Wolfram screamed as Diane desperately rolled out of the way.
The wight slammed into the wall leaving a frosted gouge marks. Diane swung Wolfram around and fired again and again. The magically infused bullets kept tearing massive chunks out of the creature but it didn't slow down at all.
The wight roared and pursued her.
"Shit!" Diane shouted as the creature rushed toward her again. She ducked out of the way at the last second as the creature smashed into the small table that was set out of a tea party. The wight turned it's red glowing eyes toward Diane as she pressed Wolfram against the wight's temple and pulled the trigger. The head detonated in an explosion of mist and frozen chunks. Frost lined the barrel of Wolfram.
"To-oo--oo, close," Wolfram said through violent shivers.
"Hush you're fine."
Diane holstered Wolfram and checked on Tiffany. She was still fast asleep, the spell Diane had cast was still holding strong. She tried to tidy the room up a little but the table and wall were a lost cause. The wight had completely evaporated leaving a small wet puddle on the floor. Satisfied with a job well done Diane left the quaint cottage and drove back to the office to write up her report. The worst part of her job.
---
Thank you for reading! Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| 2016-07-22T08:06:06 | 2016-07-22T06:00:36 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Discouraged by the egotistical backstabbing and bullying at Hero Academy, you transfer to Villain University and discover everyone is actually nice and supportive.
On a personal note, I dealt with 3 obnoxious bullies in sixth form.
All of them are now in law enforcement. :/
|
"Seriously dude? You have never wondered why Heroes don't have henchman?"
"Isn't because they get paid or something," I said as I lifted my head from the cold compress Cedric the Vile had gotten me after I had the unfortunate encounter with the prodigy hero, Thunder Jackson. I had burned some street vendor stands that sold newspapers that plastered his ugly mug on the front page. I am sure the media and the citizens will say I deserved it.
"Sure henchmen get paid and even benefits," replied Cedric, "but think about it. A job where there is a high probability for broken bones, imprisonment, most likely a gut punch that sends you flying to the moon. People wouldn't sign up for that crap no matter how good the pay and bennies are. No they believe in the guy at the top. There is a lot of goodwill there that make the worker bees proud. So yeah Villains are pretty much the pillar of civility, well at least in their owe organization. Society really doesn't see it that way though."
"I guess your right," I said, "still though even now after enrolling in Villain University, I still get chased around by Thunder Jackson, just now the beatings draw a crowd. To be honest they also drew attention at Hero Academy, though in that school they were called "rank" matches. Each morning young aspiring heroes would line up before the administration and we were given our rank for the day. Excelling in class work and participating in rank matches would move you up and down the ladder and your rank would carry day to day. The higher the rank the more prestigious classes you could attend, the better assignments you would get and the people would love you."
Salty tears welled in my eyes and ran down my swollen cheek. I grabbed a tissue and deftly wiped them away, hoping Cedric wouldn't see. Thinking about the day of my first rank match reminded me of the humiliation I faced, the day I was branded a criminal.
"Listen normal people around the world join Villain organizations," Cedric said, "we value the lower rungs in society and man we just give them a shot. We represent the oppressed, and sure sometimes we go a little crazy, but this world needs a reset. We give the oppressed a second chance. The heroes, they are just holding up the status quo. They draw the crowds of those well off snobs that want to maintain their status and wealth. If they just spent some of the adulation they give heroes improving the lives of the oppressed we villains wouldn't be around, neither would the heroes too I guess, not like I would miss them."
"Cedric, I wanted to be a hero," I pleaded. "I really did. People like the Mighty Maverick and Liberty Lady, I dreamed of being like them, but now I just don't know. How much of their fame was really earned honestly? Thunder Jackson is certainly no paragon," as I angrily spat those words thinking of that grandstanding prick.
"Hey, are you ready to talk about what started all this with you and Thunder?," Cedric asked. "No judgment man I'll hear you out. What he did to you today needs answering for, but I curious how this whole thing started."
I took a deep breath to try and keep my nerves. My hand was shaking, "okay I'll try." I recounted the story to Cedric.
It started in class when the day's "rank" matches where announced. I was to fight Thunder Jackson. People were all ready predicting he was going to lose. No one wanted to fight me. I had a reputation around school already for stopping a bank robbery committed by a local gang on the first day of the new semester. Still I was nervous since my physical rankings where not high and my powers were ill suited against his thunder fists.
During break, I took a small space in the academy courtyard and decided to train by rigging various light projections to go off randomly so I could weave my shadow puppets around the light. I felt more confident as a I practiced. The bell rang and I was heading back inside to the gym for our ranked match when a man wearing a police uniform approached me. He said that the police had found evidence that I conspired with the gang that tried to rob the bank earlier in the day. He said there was evidence in my locker and that I needed to come with him.
|
''Well just so you know, I don't plan on joining any evil teams or conquering the world just to get my ass beat by the heroes. I just want to harness my abilities and then do my own thing.''
In hindsight I didn't know how snide I sounded, and I'd be caught dead pulling that self righteous stare nowadays. Man the academy really rubbed off on me... I guess that's why they record these induction interviews to be laughed at during the summer party.
The Dean continued;
''Well firstly Casey you can chill, you're kinda killing my vibes here, and secondly there's no pressure to join any societies, most popular students are the independent types anyway, no one really gives a shit what you want to do... in the good way of course!''
I was taken aback at how quickly his demeanour changed from flamboyant villain to extremely ordinary guy. ''gawd dayum! he got you good HeadCase!'' my hunchback roommate bellowed from the corner of the TV room. We moved onto everyone else's tapes and laughed our way into the night, and when I woke up hanging upside-down from the chandelier the next morning and felt it was an accurate assessment that I should go for a jog to detox.
Not everyone is born with powers, but a lot are, but then not everyone has Class T5 powers so an elemental like me should always make the most of what the indifferent random universe gives them. You gotta have fun, that's a no brainer (rule 1 of VU: if you can't do it in style then don't do it at all), and you need a consistent philosophy, the unpredictable types always get assassinated (rule 2: it's all part of the plan). Lastly you should always keep your mind and body in shape (rule 3: there's always someone more badass than you, don't skip leg day), this is why I'm still jogging despite emptying out my stomach in every drain along the w... wait is that Chad?
''Wo, well look who it is! Casey Taylor from the prism district!''
''Chad.''
''Nice leggings Casey, you know...'' I'm bored already so I'm gonna stop him right here ''Yeah thanks Chad they are just 'cheap ol' lycra' as I recall your comments on my old costume from the academy, I guess you're looking for a compliment back on your underwear seeing as you're wearing it on the outside?''
''ha... What? Whatever, these are special issue Edna-Biggings compression briefs...'' Oh would you look at the time, it's IDGAF o'clock and I am dying for a bacon sandwich. After making it known to Chad that I recently unlocked a secondary ability of enhanced agility, I crashed through my front door finishing off the job that WreckingBlob started. I went into the kitchen and thought I'd catch up on my messages while the bacon cooks.
''Gawwwwd dayyum Headcase, you make $6.30 leggings look mighty fine with that ass''
''Aww thanks Hunch, but that's an oddly accurate price tag for a throw away comment, have you been sneaking around again?''
''uhhhhh''
''No, it's OK! I'm no innocent girl myself. Hey, I think you should do all my laundry and then recite all the prices of my clothes next week. Do what you want with the clothes I just want them clean please. Oh and If you don't then I will challenge you to a throwdown, full well knowing that you never ever decline a battle but also that you are 2 power levels below me. Deal?''
''Gawwwwww-shit.... OK HeadCase, I'll just get started on the clothes now...''
I always remember the golden commandment of Hero Academy, ''heroes are united, we never fight one other''. What a crock of shit that was, not fighting doesn't stop people hating each other, so the issues never get settled. And why did every damn rule had to have some pompous title: Golden Commandment, Mantra of Peace, Justice Values, just a bunch of weasel words to cover up the fact they are authoritarian busybodies.
Bacon! Sweet sweet salty bacon! What I wouldn't give to eat this in front of Professor GoodHeart, here professor, I don't like the crusts so go blend it with some kale and pump it up your vegan ass. I receive a message from the Dean, who is never up early on a Sunday, I best head over to the office.
''This must be serious Kane, why are you texting me so early?''
He swivels round in his spike studded leather chair ''Oh I was up all night trolling some forum and didn't bother sleeping, you're appointment is coming up so I thought fuck it''.
''Happy trolling?''
''Yeah admins banned my IP. Anyway, I heard you ran into some trouble recently?''
''Huh? No trouble here, I've made Hunch my domestic thrall, but he had an out, his stubbornness isn't my fault.''
''No not that, gee you think we get the psychics to spy on your dorms when they have better things to do?! I received a complaint from *that* Academy, a fine for the harrasment of a Chad... something, I'm not going to pronounce that B.S name''
''That was barely hour ago! HAHA[maniacal laughing]! He must have REALLY ran back to campus to make that complaint so fast! I'm fucking dying'' I snatch the letter from the desk, with ink smudged from the haste it was shoved into the envelope. ''Oh my god; 'the use of deceitful compliments and lowering of self image' seriously...''
''Yeah well the mayor fines us for these now, he's OK with human trafficking and mafias of course ^^becausemoney but clearly metahuman banter is too much for society. The point is that they are fucking us Casey, and we are going to show them what's up. Now I'm not knocking your title here, but there's a reason you're VillainPun is HeadCase, it's because you're a crazy bitch. Now that's totally cool man because you have taken that crazy and channelled it into energy, if the world was just then the gods would have made you sane.
That said, as awesome as we are, none of us are perfect self-contained islands and we can all use a co-dependence every now and then, which is why I'm partnering you up. His name is SlickDickens (he hands me a profile page) and his primary is Stoic Intellect, I'll let you chat with him about his secondaries. The guy is brilliant and got that dutch humour down to an art form, but he's depressing as fuck, and needs some direction in life otherwise I think he's going to zap out into an outer-dimension one day. I can't lose another villain to the Nexus, if only they knew how much fun adult life is after VU!
So, you're gonna make him your buddy, and you're going to have him hack into H-Academy and pay back the councils fine with some hero donation money, then everybody wins! Well except the heroes but life is winning for them so fuck 'em.''
''Oh, I just Thrallzoned TheHunch though, I think an ominous misinterpretation is on the horizon''
''So? Just cut the teasing short and hook up with him, you may as well hook up with Slick as well if you keep staring at that picture''
''What?! I can't do that! They will get jealous and shit will go down faster than..'' ''Oh Casey, you're almost a graduated villain and twice as powerful as both of them combined, grow a vagina and show them who's the alpha in the love triangle. Now get the fuck out my office.''
| 2017-08-29T13:33:45 | 2017-08-29T11:37:14 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] The world's greatest superhero has passed away. As the world braces itself for a crime spree, they are instead met with villains paying their respects to a fallen foe.
|
The fall of Titan was thought to be impossible. The being who had risen up from the depths of the Earth itself, he couldn't really be gone, could he? Where do we even begin to ponder the implications of such a loss? His passing will be discussed and argued over for the coming millennia, by philosophers as of yet unborn, and a meaning will attempt to be found. This discussion, however, means little to us still living on this rock.
When word quickly spread of Titan's fate, there was a moment of silence. Not explicitly for the hero, but as a calm before what was believed to be an impending storm. Who would there be now to keep the devils at bay? An obvious question with a chillingly obvious answer: no one.
What happened instead took away almost as much breath as the news of the hero's passing itself. Kai Foss The World-Ender arrived on Earth shortly after the news of Titan's passing broke, and the people of Earth immediately bent their knees to the conqueror. But conquest was not Kai Foss' goal on this day.
He had always questioned what made the Earth worthy of such resolute and unyielding protection. It was something he had not understood until this day. The planet was now his, if he so chose. He had fought legendary, cataclysmic battles against Titan for this prize. Instead, without a word, Kai Foss walked to where Titan lay, and laid a hand gently on the hero of the Earth. "I understand," he whispered.
Kai Foss The World-Ender left as quietly as he had arrived, and was never heard from again.
|
“What the hell are they doing here?” Starboy hissed into the ear of Nova Girl who turned to follow her partner’s gaze. The Terrible Trio has entered the cathedral and made their way down the aisle. The Ignoble Knight wore black enabled armour for the occasion that clanked and clanged. Walking on all four beside him, Betty the Beast looked surprisingly put together for a woman with a permanent werewolf condition. Her mane of chocolate brown hair had been combed back into a black bow far down her back. The Wizard of the Deep floated beside them in a suspended ball of water that dripped on the carpet. A piece of paper printed with “Villains’ Seating” in comic sans was taped to the front-most pew on the other side of the isle. There the Terrible Trio joined the villains’ gallery of Captain Solar.
“You know it was in his will that they be invited,” Nova Girl replied telepathically.
“Yeah, but Wizard? Seriously? That guy is a c-list at best. Hell, I defeated him more times than I can remember.
Nova Girl rolled her eyes. “His will said to invite everyone that he has every fought - that includes Wizard. I’m pretty sure that even Killer Mime is here.” The two turned around again and indeed saw the Killer Mime himself making frowny faces with drawn on tears.
“Jesus, this is embarrassing.” Starboy sunk down further in the pew to play Clash of Clans on his phone until a low rumbling from Linda Liberty signaled the start of the service.
She was the largest super-whatever in the room by a wide margin and had to crawl into the cathedral on her hands and knees. Standing at the pulpit, the green woman towered over the entire congregation. Her perpetually lit torch cast shadows wildly. Starboy always wondered how her and Solar...you know, but always regretted it when he thought about the mechanics of it too much.
“Thank you all for coming,” she thundered from overhead like a loudspeaker.
“Captain Solar was something to all of us. A hero,” she looked over the gathered superheroes and civilians on the left. “A foe,” she gazed darkly to the right at the gathered villains and their motley assortment of henchmen. “But to me, he was a husband.” Her voice shook ever so slightly and a raindrop the size of a softball crashed to the floor splashing on the robs of a deeply terrified priest.
“We had talked about the end. We assumed that it would perhaps be at the hands of one of you.” Her hand swept to the right. “But, none of you were up to the task. Seems poetic that the strongest man in the universe was undone by heavy snow and a long driveway.
Nova Girl’s voice intruded Starboy’s head: “That lifetime supply of Twinkies that Hostess gave him with for catching the Sugar Gang sure didn’t help.”
The snort from Starboy echoed across the cathedral. Under the crown Linda glowered deeply down at him briefly, but continued.
“Now, if any of you have any words, please come up front we would love to hear them.”
She strode to the other side of the cathedral, revealing a closed coffin that had been hidden by her mass. A picture of Captain Solar’s smiling brightly was propped in an easel beside it. It was clearly from twenty years ago at least, well before the super hero gained his super waist.
Hero after hero, villain after villain, they all came to give their respects to the fallen superhero or superfoe depending on what side in the cathedral you were sitting. The Ravenous Radish gave a particularly fervent speech on the importance of fiber in a balanced diet. However, speeches came to an abrupt end when Wizard of the Deep ended up shorting out the audio system. Starboy thought it was Wizard’s biggest achievement to date.
As the crowd made their way to the reception, Starboy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find Detective Magnifier with a phone in his outstretched hand. “It’s Doctor Apocalypse, Starboy. He’s asking for you.”
The arch villain of Captain Solar, the good Doctor had famously broken the Captain’s back twenty years ago and remained dangerous. This was the big time; his big break. Starboy swallowed dryly and held the phone to his head, aware of Nova Girl’s presence listening in his mind.
“So, the boy becomes a man now that daddy’s gone eh?” said a raspy voice on the other end.
“He wasn’t my father, Apocalypse. He was a teammate,” replied Starboy in his deepest hero voice.
“Wait,” the voice sounding normal. “This isn’t Boy Saturn?”
“No, it’s Starboy.”
“God damnit, I always mix you guys up. Give me the Mags again.” Starboy began to hand the waiting detective the phone but heard Doctor Apocalypse's voice again: “Wait!”
“What?”
“Sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks…” Starboy finally handed the detective the phone and Nova Girl’s giggling rung in his head. The boy star went to fill up on funeral brownies.
| 2018-03-12T20:44:13 | 2018-03-12T20:30:31 | 224 | 123 |
[WP] After thousands of years on a generation ship sent out to colonize the universe, nobody alive on board the ship believes in the "myth" of Planet Earth anymore. Until they receive the first transmission from Earth in hundreds of years...
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"I think I heard something.”
Diron rolled his eyes while his swung his chair side to side, the screen of his interface following him in a nauseating back and forth. “It’s not funny anymore, Talia. We’re not 8 years old” he said. “I’m trying to study. Play with your hardware somewhere else.”
Talia flicked a glare emoji onto Diron’s interface and frowned at the console in front of her, one hand on her ear, pressing against the antique earpiece. “I’m serious.” She fiddled with some wired on the console and old speakers crackled to life.
Diron wiped his interface away and spun his chair around in a full circle. “Hey, maybe I should write my intro psych paper on all you dirty kooks who listen to empty space as a hobby, waiting for--” He froze and leaned forward. “Is that music?” He spun a finger in the in the air for a moment before he realized it wasn’t on his interface. “Make it louder.”
“We’re not dirty, we’re Earthy.” Talia threw an empty soda packet at her twin, hitting him in the shoulder. She swiped a screen on her console and the crackles got louder. Underneath it was a tinkle of sound, so faint it was easy to mistake for random noise, until it repeated itself.
Talia turn back and unplugged the speakers, plugging them into her temple. She wiped up her interface and started the sound editing app.
“Share it, I want to hear.” Diron slide his chair next to hers and leaned over her shoulder.
Talia rolled her eyes and grabbed the audio icon and tossed it to Diron. Her hands flicked back and forth as she cleaned up the audio, trying to filter out the background noise of stars and suns that must have travelled with the signal for light years.
“It’s pretty degraded, but not as bad as I’d expect for travelling so far. Even taking the most conservative interpretations of the logs, we’ve been gone for 2,547 years.”
“We haven’t been gone from anywhere. Your stupid theories don’t make any sense.”
“Someone built this place!”
“It’s not a place! It’s a planet!”
They devolved into the usual argument, about how no other planets could move on their own, but how would they know that if they were all travelling in the same direction, and so on. Only a few people listened to the stars on the old equipment, and they didn’t believe half of what they said. It was too obvious that the life here had evolved to live inside this giant, spinning, planet-sized asteroid. They had plants that burrowed through the rock to collect UV rays from the suns they passed, using that energy to support the entire ecosystem within the planet. Everything worked too smoothly, too well to be designed. It had to be natural. Humans made too many mistakes. Just look at Diron, Talia thought uncharitably.
They both suddenly stopped and tilted their heads to the side, then looked back at each other. Talia flipped through her apps until she found the translation app. They were both silent for a few minutes, just listening.
“What’s a country road, and how could it take you home?”
|
An image of Earth flashed up on the screen. It rotated slowly as the teacher lectured her students. "Earth is the planet of our origin." She stared at the image of Earth as she said this. She seemed as mesmerized by it as the rest of us were. It was so magnificent, it was hard to believe that any of us could've come from there. But that was supposedly the truth, and so we all entertained the thought for the sake of the lecture. "We are a part of the fourth expedition out of Earth to explore a potentially suitable planet for life."
We had all heard the stories before. Some brave 4,500 humans or so left planet Earth in search of another home. They did something the rest of the humans that stayed on Earth were too cowardly or incapable of doing. We were all supposed to be proud of our ancestors. They were the brave ones. Those astronauts exemplified one of the main tenets of the expedition -- Pioneering. As strange as it was to us, we too were astronauts exploring the galaxy; moving towards our new home after a long journey through space. A class of second graders were astronauts. None of us really knew what that was supposed to mean. We were told that it was an impressive feat. It was hardly impressive to us. It was all we had ever known.
Being the 87th generation on the ship, we all had a hard time believing any of the stories told by our teachers. We were, after all, on our way to another planet. Why call Earth our home planet when we are so clearly a spacefaring race? Most believed that Earth was simply a stop on the way to another planet that was, for some reason, romanticized by the people at the time. Earth was probably just some dead rock floating through space that stirred up the hearts and imaginations of the people living at the time, and they decided to create some kind of silly lore about it in an attempt to give us a historical home. Earth was simply a story meant to give children some sort of grounding in the vastness of space we were born into.
We received nothing from this Earth. There was never any signal or message from this planet that supposedly existed. We were told that it was because Earth and the expedition made the voluntary decision not to attempt contacting each other once the expedition had started. It was all just a joke. How were we supposed to believe everything we were told without any evidence? It all seemed so... convenient that we weren't able to see anything about Earth except for this one glowing blue and green image. There was absolutely nothing else to glean of this planet. When we asked what it was like on the surface, we were told that the information was withheld from us to prevent any future desire to return.
People scoffed at this statement. A world that we originated from, that we somehow have no way of contacting? How ridiculous. What of the other expeditions? We were told that there were 12 in total. Why haven't we heard from the other 11? The answer was the same, everywhere we turned. Teachers came up empty with a response about the decision making process around this voluntary choice non-communication. Most people just took to believe that Earth wasn't as beautiful as the images suggested. It was merely a metaphor for our creation. Something used to explain the origin of Humanity. It seemed that in all likelihood we would never know where we came from.
\--- --- ---
That memory returned to me from my childhood as I stared up at the screen above me. The man on the screen, I did not recognize. Out of the 7,000 current inhabitants of the fleet, he was not one of them. He was foreign. I had been flipping through the channels on the transmitter, waiting to receive a message from our small expedition force to a nearby satellite. The screen and all the buttons were blank when suddenly there was a forced entry into the database and we were informed that a message was being sent to our fleet from this foreign body. Given no choice to accept or deny the message, we were forced to witness one of the most world-shattering events in our history as a fleet as the other humans from Earth made contact with us for the first time in over 2000 years.
"Hello Expedition 4 Gamma." The foreign figure on the screen spoke with an unfamiliar accent. His features were exotic compared to ours. His face had far more hair on it than anyone on the fleet could ever hope to achieve. His eyes gleamed with emotion. "This is a message from Earth." He spoke in a gruff tone and paused. He appeared to be searching for something else to say. The crew stared open-mouthed at the man on the screen. Not one person could believe what they were seeing.
The leader of the transmission crew leaned into her microphone. She was shaking; her eyes were trained on the man on the screen. "You have permission to continue." She let go of the voice call button and looked around at the rest of the crew, as if asking for verification that everything that was happening was actually real. "Please go on."
"We, from Earth, are making contact with your fleet now, after 2780 years, to inform you that you are now able to return to Earth." He smiled at the crew as he said this. "Earth's climate and biosphere have finally been stabilized."
We were unsure of what he meant by biosphere. His comment about the climate only further confused us. How could any human survive on a planet whose climate is so unstable? An image of the Earth appeared on the screen. It looked exactly like the one we all knew so well already, but with some differences in how the clouds looked. It hardly meant anything for them to be showing us the image.
"Sir," the leader spoke in disbelief. "If what you say is true, then there is no way that we could make it to Earth in time for any of us to see that." The crew smiled uncomfortably at the screen. "From what you tell us, we have been traveling away from earth for 2780 years. We have been traveling at max speed for the last 1000.; it would take us well over 1000 years to reach Earth." She paused, stood up, and folded her hands together.
That was the moment that the commander smiled back at the crew. "Ah yes, commander." He leaned closer to the screen. "Well, you see, Earth has made a lot of technological improvements over the past 2000 years or so." He laughed for a moment. "Will be upon you shortly." The radar, at that moment, sent an alert of a large approaching body coming from the other side of the solar system. "We are excited to see what one of two of mankind's only surviving expeditions has to say about their long journey."
The alert, which stated that the approaching body was halfway across the solar system now alerted us that the spaceship was before us. All at once a vast array of foreign spaceships appeared.
| 2018-08-28T09:26:58 | 2018-08-28T09:02:27 | 112 | 43 |
[WP] Nobody believed you when you told them that in Spanish, the suffix "-ito" in mosquito means diminutive or small, implying the existence of a larger being. Or atleast, nobody believed you until today. The skies darken with the arrival of the legendary EL MOSCO
|
Mosquitos are bothersome, we can agree.
They steal from our arms and leave us no peace.
Red bumps we must scratch like a lottery ticket,
We grind our nails down an inch as we itch it.
But worse should be feared than stupid dumb bugs;
These pests are just insects who suck and glug blood.
Taquito v.s. taco; grocery v.s. Costco;
The real worst of all is mosquito v.s. MOSCO.
MOSCO is large and shits metric tonnes,
Monstrous body—it eclipses the Sun.
It hums and it buzzes and doesn't stop snackin
The blood from the cousins of modern day dragons:
It feeds on the fuel from our rockets and planes
So fleeing is no card we can conjure and play.
It flies across oceans and well over Heaven,
Up high as the Pope's own personal zeppelin.
We're stuck on this planet, like stains from a Cheeto
On hand is a gun with a suffix spelled "-ito";
Its chamber is filled and it's pointed at us,
'Cause all of us wished for less annoying bugs.
Well our wish was fulfilled; the problem was solved.
Hell signed us a deal and made a phone call.
For ten hundred years, we had to live bitterly
Deep underground, 'til the Statue of Liberty
Was mistaken by MOSCO as edible food.
A day later it fell and split into two.
See, MOSCO was sickened, toxicity kicked in,
A poison which not even monsters could live.
We couldn't kill MOSCO with guns or choppers,
Nor tanks or missiles—our savior was copper.
"Remember the Alamo," Texans affix.
But never forget that Mexican suffix.
-----
Thanks for reading! Feedback / criticism always appreciated. I have more poems, songs, and stories on [my personal sub](/r/scottbeckman).
|
Sucked dry. Husks.
Ma. Pa. Little Billy. The god-damned dog.
They were gone, all of them.
Just me now, the last one standing, the only one to spin this yarn and let the world know of the menace lurking out there. The give voice to the truth, the unburden it from the rumors of yore and let it out into the light.
EL MOSCO.
The Swamp Spear. Darth Buzz. The Mosquito without the Quit.
Whatever you want to call it. It don't matter to me none. What matters is that I've seen it.
It had come for us, just as dusk had settled in on the Everglades. A faint buzzing, growing from the distance until it roared, setting our mouth to a chattering with the vibrations. We didn't know what was what, couldn't hardly make sense of it. Ma and Pa took to talking to us, all soothing like, saying it was just a swamp-stomper or some such. And I got half near to believin' them too, right up until night came early.
A great blackness blotched out the last rays of day and replaced them with the horrors. The night I saw it. Saw what it was capable of.
It came for Little Billy first. He wasn't but five at the time, ripe with the glow of youth, nothing but future ahead of him. But the darkness came for him. Took him right before my own eyes. He went from huddling beside the fire, looking about with his whites all out, to...gone. It happened quick, mercy enough, but it weren't a pleasant way to go.
First, the sun went out. The buzzing got even louder, screaming at us. And then a great spear darted forth, impaling him to the ground. Pinning him there. He just stared at me, his eyes shocked, unable to speak. I called out, but there weren't nothing to be done. I just watched as he went husky.
That's probably the wrong word for it. Huskized. He got thee to a huskery.
I'm making light of it, but only because there ain't no way to let something so dark settle on you otherwise. Long and short of it was that he got slurped up until there weren't nothing left but skin and bones. Ma ran to him, as mothers will do. Tried to yank the great jabber out of his back, but she just paid the same price poor Billy did. After a moment of struggling with the spear, it simply pulled out and jabbed back down, taking Ma just the same as Billy.
Pa came running toward me, yelling at me to get off, that he'd take care of it.
So I turned and I ran as fast as my wee little legs could carry me. Didn't even look back. Just pumped my feet until the buzzing died down and the sun came back. Threw myself into a patch of mud and peeked out from between some lilies just in time to catch sight of it as it flew off.
The wings spread out in all directions it seemed, flapping with a ferocity as it took flight. The great bulbous eyes of its head darted about, as if looking for the one that got away. Trying to spy me out so it could do to me what it done to the rest of my family. It hovered a moment more and then turned off Southward, its great insect ass full up of the lifeblood of those I held dearest.
And then it was gone. El Mosco. King of the Mosquitos.
I carried the tale back with me. Tried to explain it best I could to the folks in the civilized world. They called it trauma. Said I couldn't hold up the truth because my mind couldn't reckon with it. Said that some crazed madman was responsible, not what actually was. I begged and I pleaded, telling them that it wasn't the end. That a beast like that couldn't go long before the hunger would beckon it again.
But they didn't listen.
I ended up in the group home and you might well guess how that went. Kids can be cruel, and kids without a family doubly so. They laughed, sayin' I let a bug kill my family. Sayin' that I was weak for letting it happen.
I kept my mouth shut when I got shipped to the next home. Ain't no upside in the truth when it brings you nothing but pain. I pushed it deep down, knowing that one day I'd be in the right of it.
And more time passed than I thought it would. I left my youth behind and I became the sort of maladjusted adult you'd expect a man of my circumstances to be. Long enough time went by that I began to doubt the truth of my own memories. Second guessing what happened amidst the fog of the way back.
Until today. I saw it reported right there on the TV. The buzz. The impalement. The husk.
It was all a great mystery they said. If anyone had information they should call in they said.
I had information. But telling it had never helped me none.
Let them see the truth of it for themselves.
Let El Mosco feed on them just as he had fed on me.
**Platypus OUT.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus
| 2018-12-04T21:45:12 | 2018-12-04T21:35:08 | 524 | 91 |
[WP] A planet is found rotating around a sun identical to ours and having the same orbit and singular moon.You are sent to inspect.When you land you find life there exactly like that of the Earth you left behind and the people think that you have come back to tell them what the other planet is like.
|
“So you’re not him.”
“Right.”
“And we’re not them, but we’re just like them?”
“Correct.”
“So, just so we’re clear, he’s there, you’re here, we’re here, but we’re just like them there.”
“That's about the size of things, yes.”
“Well, that’s quite the claim! We’re going to need you to provide us some proof.”
—
And thus started the all-time ‘chicken’ championship. Would he fly back? Or would he wait for me? After all, he’s me, but not me, and I’m him, but not him. His decisions are my decisions. Or are my decisions his? No, my decisions are my decisions. Or are they his decisions? That sneaky devil!
So I waited, paralyzed by my indecision. Or his indecision. I haven’t decided on whose indecision it was. I assumed his life, which was my life, and lived at his house that was my house, and ate his food that was my food.
And then, I flipped a coin. It landed on heads, and my return voyage was scheduled.
—
“What do you mean I just left?”
“You just left, and now you’re back. We’re starting to doubt that you’re qualified for space travel.”
“I’m starting to think that too.”
—
So I lived with my wife who was his wife, but was really my wife, and I played with the dogs that were his but also mine, and I mowed my lawn that at one point was his lawn, but not really.
And then I flipped another coin. Heads.
—
“See? We told you. Virtually identical.”
“Huh. Neat.”
“Neat?”
“Yep, and not at all confusing.”
—
And so I traveled back to my planet, that was his planet, but really my planet. And I met with my superiors that were his superiors, but that were probably actually my superiors (for those keeping track).
—
“So you met yourself?”
“Yes.”
“And he was just like you?”
“Exactly”.
“Was it worth it?”
“No,” I replied.
—
Edit: Thanks for my first ever Reddit gold!
|
One and The Same
The automated voice played as it did so many times during the mission training. I had been made aware the mission was pretty much idiot-proof as it wasn't guaranteed I would wake up after a long, chemically induced slowing of my metabolism without brain damage.
"Good morning. Remember to remove the easily accessible catheter before attempting movement. The symbol on the screen will help with any task available within the ship." The automated voice paused as it showed a button with a question mark on it. "You will also find this button on field equipment as well. It will take some time before you can regain muscle strength required-" The voice was cut off by another I recognized.
"What happened?" I couldn't place the voice, but it was undeniably familiar.
"Sir, I'm not sure what you mean. It would appear I have awoken at the appropriate time for mission success." I remembered that the experimental satellite array launched to attempt an intergalactic transmission system wasn't guaranteed to work. I was thankful to be able to maintain contact with Houston. "My coordinates appear to-"
"Not you, the probe." The voice was kind of a jerk. I think I don't like my boss. "Probe designation Mercury. Status." As the automated voice ran through a typical sounding system diagnosis I deflated the catheter. That took more effort than I recalled.
"Mercury, what happened at the coordinates flagged as the outer rim of the Milky Way galaxy?" That command issued an error response.
"Did the guidance system turn me around at the halfway point?" I was barely able to manage getting dressed. My voice was throaty, almost groggy. "Was there an issue with the onboard navigation?"
"Manned operatives. We have too much interference with both of you talking. Please keep this line of communication free as we manually download a more comprehensive guide of the system's log." Did they forget my name? Did I forget my name? No.... I know it's in my head... somewhere.
"Manned operatives? Plural?" I croaked. The cheery voice of the ship notified me I had been muted. I loaded up the air needle with the cocktail of drugs meant to counteract those that let me sleep through my journey. Just to be safe I took a measured dose of freeze dried coffee paste and awaited the respone from... that guy. If only I could recall.
I selected the ten pound weights to begin the exercises meant to regain my strength. After dropping those I reluctantly chose the two pound weights, arms already exhausted from the simple tasks I had given them.
"Manned Operative B, what is your name? Can you recall?" The voice commanded.
"No, sir. Operative B? Was there another manned probe sent out with a similar mission?" I had dropped the two pounds weight as well. More so out of excitement than anything else.
"I really can't determine which one is which with both of you talking. For whatever reason both channels open whenever we unmute either manned operative. We'll be sending an extraction team to your location B. Hold on tight. We'll be there soon." I guess voice guy was never good at transparency. If there were two people responding why couldn't I hear this person known only to me as Manned Operative A?
"When?" I cleared my throat. No use. Muted again. I prepared the kit for sample collection, despite my coordinates stating I was on earth. Not very far from the launch site actually. I went back to the recommended exercises.
The ship's door opened with a rush of air. Real air. It even smelt like home. I jumped up too quickly from the cot and promptly fell at the feet of the extraction team. Oddly they refused to talk to me. I had even been forcibly restrained despite my muscular atrophy. I had more questions for them then they had answers it seemed.
Before I knew it I was in a medical facility I recognized. It was where I received extensive testing during mission training. I thought I stumbled onto someone sane as I recognized the doctor. She looked older though. She seemed to be checking off vitals and biometrics.
"What's going on doctor... doctor?" My brain was probably fried due to some radiation, perhaps a never before encountered form. Yippee. That meant a lot more tests before I get any answers.
"So you can't remember my name?" This seemed to break her. "I can't do this." Her voice cracked. "He looks just like him. That day." Tears fell. "No, hold on! I have to talk to him. Adam! It's me! They're saying the signal split. They don't know which is the real Mercury probe. The one that you arrived in or the one that completed the flight path." The door burst open and I struggled against my restraints as she was being injected with someting.
"Stop that, don't hurt her!" She was practically tackled to the ground.
"They're saying you're an extraterrestrial, Adam!" Her voice strained from the weight of the men on top of her. "I won't let them do this," She got quieter from either the drugs in her system or a lack of oxygen. She continued to attempt an escape from their grasp. "I love you, okay? I love-" She drifted off.
I was left utterly in the dark. The only thing I could be sure of was the mission. I was almost certain my name was Adam though. Almost.
"Idiot-proof? You thought I would be the idiot in this situation!?! You can't recognize your own operative and my mission is idiot-proof!?!" Then nothing. Sedation.
| 2019-03-20T04:29:46 | 2019-03-20T03:48:34 | 284 | 97 |
[WP] Delivery drones are armed to deter thieves, but the more heavily defended a drone is the better the loot. The golden age of drone piracy is now lads.
|
Night hangs over the city like an inky black shroud, cloaking it in darkness.
And under cover of darkness, the city springs to life. The airways are buzzing tonight - it’s a big sales night, and countless deliveries are being flown to countless homes. The city’s like a living organism on nights like these - the airways blood vessels, the drones blood cells, the packages life-giving oxygen. Buy this, buy that. Do you really need another back-scratcher? Another boxed set of DVDs? Of course you do. One-click purchase makes it easier than ever. Buy now, and it’ll be at your doorstep in an hour or less. Capitalism is alive and well, and everyone in this city wants something.
Unfortunately for our friendly neighborhood megacorporations, not everyone wants to pay.
The modified rotors of the custom Aspect T25 slice through the icy night air. It’s an interesting beast. Though designed as a heavy construction drone, the T25 has two main selling points that Aspect Systems refuses to openly advertise. One, the hardpoints for attaching construction equipment are compatible (by sheer coincidence, mind you) with highly illegal ‘whammy’ drone-to-drone disruptor weaponry.
And two, it’s built like a flying tank.
It’s point two that keeps Griffin’s drone in the air tonight. The highly customized drone strains under the weight of its stolen cargo, swaying after the loss of two of its rotors. It’s a heavy loss, but Griffin is no ordinary pilot, and he can fly with six rotors, no sweat. Under his careful guidance, the T25 slips out of Airway C23546 and goes off the grid. Its identifier blinks off, and its carefully arranged stealth fields flicker on. It’s now invisible to all but the most sophisticated detectors. Many miles away, Griffin pushes up his goggles as the autopilot kicks in to fly the Twenty-Five home.
“How’s the haul tonight, Griff?” A voice crackles in through his headset.
“Pretty shit. Some knockoff Gen 1 phasers out of China, busted me up pretty good when they saw my approach and got a few shots off. I’ll be lucky if the haul pays for repairs.” Griffin lies smoothly. In this business, bragging only invites jealousy - or worse, robbery.
“Hah, I keep telling you, man - gotta get your hands on one of the new Vipers. They’ve got a new blade design that’s almost silent. You could fly one in a fuckin’ library. And they’ve got the sensor cross-section of a flea.”
“Sure, Q. As long as you don’t mind it going down when a stray rock hits it.”
“Come on! The gen twos can survive most small-arms fire.”
“Uhhuh. Hey, I gotta go - I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Sure.” The line goes dead with a click, and Griff leans back in his seat, wiping his brow. He lifts a half-empty drink can to his lips, drains it, and sighs. Despite what he’s told Q, there’s no knockoff phaser package strapped to his drone’s belly.
A stolen combat drone prototype hangs in the T25’s magnetized claws. It’s the latest out of Sato Robotics’ R&D department. It sports pulse weapons, nanosteel layered armor, the latest sensor packages, and a top speed of almost 400 miles an hour. It’s worth a fortune.
And Sato’s not about to let it go without a fight. Suddenly, a blaring tone echoes through the basement.
CONTACT: INCOMING SATO SECURITY. FOUR SATO X-50’S ON INTERCEPT.
Briefly, he considers dropping the package, letting the Sato drones recover it. If his drone goes down in a fight with Sato’s X-50s, he won’t have enough money left to buy another. He’d lose everything.
Then again, the risk is worth it.
He cracks his knuckles and pulls his headset back on.
---
*Want more? Join /r/OneMillionWords*
|
What a lot of people don't realise is that Bank is the perfect place to wait for drones. It's full up on people at all hours of the day and night. Might seem like a handicap, 'cept everyone's staring at their phones, or their feet, anywhere but where they might meet another person's eyes. Pete an' me, we figured it out real quick when we were 'round the actual Bank for a school trip, and came back later to try a bit of climbing. Those old buildings are as good for it as you'd think.
The other thing is, there's lots of fancy people around. Bankers, sure, but others too. The people who *employ* bankers. And not the fancy new-money wankers from Canary Wharf. The kind of old money that comes with titles and those stupid pinky rings.
Anyway, those types of people like to get what they want, when they want it. And they don't want to wait for London traffic for it to be delivered, either. Hence: prime drone spotting territory.
You might be thinking, "what about the cameras?" London is famous for them. But, bruv, any Scav worth a damn carries a disruptor, or course. Those Peeping Toms might as well be set dressing. The real impressive tech comes in when you want to catch one. They move fast, and even a basic model comes with good hazard avoidance algorithms these days.
Fortunately, I've always been a tinkerer, and Pete's got great eyes and a steady hand. So even when we were starting out, we did alright. Our first big catch was over Hampstead Heath, with a weighted tennis ball and some braided fishing line. it was right around Christmas in year 12, and things were lean at home. We'd been goofing around with prototypes, and saw a M-573 carrying an Amazon box passing overhead. It was too good of a chance to pass up. One excellent throw later, we had a treasure trove in hand. Someone's mum was sending a fancy hamper to, "help with Christmas dinner." It was enough to make things better at both our houses that year, and we were well pleased. We scarpered, taking the goods–and drone parts–with us.
After a couple of other easy catches, we decided to try the spot we'd found at Bank. The first night out we got a fancy watch, some bottles of Krug, and a USB stick that we looked at before leaving at a police station. You might have heard about the arrests that followed–you know the ones. Parliament was in an uproar for ages about them. That was us.
We kept things chilled, trying to never take too much or be too bold. But when Pete's dad got sick, and my sister got into an accident, or when the neighbors pension checks got mysteriously delayed, well, somehow there was always money to sort things out with.
And then, we started to get a reputation. And through a network of whispers, a certain M.G. asked if he could hire our services. Which is what brought us up to the roof on this particular evening.
"It's fuckin' cold," Pete said, shivering. He's always been a skinny lad, and even though we're well out of school, he hasn't put on any weight. Lucky bastard.
"It's November, Pete. I told you to wear your Jacket over your hoodie."
"I know, but I figured this hoodie would be enough with this muffler."
"Fuckin' hell, here, but these on." I handed him the mittens I was wearing over my gloves. It might affect his dexterity, but cold hands would be worse.
"Thanks L."
"Don't mention it." We looked up together. It was a mercifully dry night, but the lack of clouds meant there was nothing to hold the city's heat in. The sky burned orange from the lights below, and we waited in hopes that one specific delivery would be passing by.
"Shit, is that it?" Pete pointed. An extremely black object was quietly zooming across our field of view from the east.
"Dumbasses painted it with Vanta Black? It sticks out like sore thumb!" I pulled up my binoculars and looked at the shape. Sure enough, a drone shaped hole in the sky was there.
"Shot one?"
"Short circuit grenade, go." I figured it wasn't going to work, but it might give us some idea of the thing's capabilities. Sure enough, when the grenade hit, the drone only wobbled a little. Through the binoculars, I watched it extend an arm out the side. "Shit, it's got something out. Can you tell what it is?"
"Give me those, and I'll see." He grabbed the binocs, then swore. "It's one of those laser scopes–" his sentence was cut off as a red light shone down on the rooftoop. The angle of the beam showed us the drone was still moving quickly. If we wanted to intercept it, we'd have to move fast.
What followed was a ridiculous deployment of tech. Pete and I both shot the thing with weapons resembling harpoon guns. In turn, it tried to electrocute us, cut the ropes with the laser, and set us on fire with a flame thrower. Fortunately, we had measures to counteract all of these defences, and in a few minutes, we had the drone on the roof, rotors off, and AI disabled.
"Damn but it's a big 'un." It really was. A meter long, and over half a meter wide, it was unusually big, even for London. The black colour was unsettling, and something seemed...off.
"I'm getting a weird feeling. Let's be really careful when we open this one, hey?"
"Agreed."
Disabling the outer locks was shockingly easy, given everything we'd seen to that point, but we were "rewarded" by a strange mist emanating out when we pulled off the main flight assembly.
"Fuck! Back off." I was starting to worry about the time, but a lucky gust of wind came and blew whatever it was away. We had the lid off quickly with a lever, and then we were looking at the inner capsule. It was round, and appeared to have to seams on it.
"Now what? We can't get this off the roof." We heard sirens, and turned to look toward them. They seemed to be coming from everywhere, but streets are a maze where we were, so it was hard to tell how many police where coming. More than one car though, that was sure.
I put my hand on the capsule, and tried to roll it, to see if there was some way to open it on the bottom. But as I did, a seam appeared where none had been, and a lid popped open to reveal:
"Fuck, why did that asshole send us to get a body?"
"I don't think it's a body, P."
A perfect human girl lay curled up in the pod, apparently asleep. She was wearing a strange jumpsuit, but what skin I could see was flawless. Her hair spread out in a corona of curls on the cushioning around her. She was beautiful. Also, she was blue.
"Liv, we gotta go." I turned to look at Pete, then back to the girl.
"But, what if she's in trouble? We can't just leave her!"
"*We're* going to be in trouble if we don't get out of here."
"One sec." I looked at him, and our ropes. "How do you feel about parkour with a passenger?"
"Oh, fuck."
| 2019-09-30T14:49:22 | 2019-09-30T14:23:50 | 350 | 39 |
[WP] Your entire life, you have been able to see the red strings of fate connecting people to their soulmates. Yours has always extended past the sky. Space travel has just became available, so you begin your search for your soulmate.
|
For some inexplicable reason, I’ve always been able to see the strings of fate that bound two people together. For me, however, my string never pointed to another person, not here on Earth at least. My thread had been affixed to the sky itself and whatever lay beyond.
I tried to ignore it as best I could. What was I to do? Leave everything I knew and loved behind just so I could chase after a dream? That would be ludicrous, right? So I tried finding love on my own terms. As best as I could, I threw myself out into the dating world and let it have its way with me. For a time, I thought myself happy. I met wonderful people. People who had filled me up with either happiness or contention. But never both. Something was always lacking, I knew. And it plagued me to no end. Knowing full well that who I chose to date wasn’t the person I was meant to be with had soured every good relationship before it even began.
And so I stopped trying to fight it.
It’s been thirty years since I’ve begun my search. Since then, I’ve been sailing through the sea of stars here in Outer Space. I had spent my life savings commissioning a galactic cruiser capable of taking me to the great unknown. My friends and family called me a fool. They begged me to reconsider. They told me I was making a terrible mistake, that I was throwing everything away and for what? To chase after a dream made obscured by the clouds themselves? I admit, it was daunting for me to steel my resolve then. But in the end, I found the courage I needed to let follow my heart. Because in the end, I knew something that they did not. I was cursed knowing that my soulmate was somewhere out there. A place so far, far away from Earth. How could I ever hope to be whole when I knew the better half of me was waiting for me out there? So I made my peace, said my farewells, and left everything and everyone behind.
The problem was, no matter where I went, no matter how far I traveled, the threads of fate never seemed to grow closer.
Now I’m forced to reckon with an irrefutable truth. I’ve spent a lifetime coursing through these stars, soaking in its majesty, and braving the great unknown. I keep a logs of every phenomenon that I am blessed to bear witness to. You would think that after thousands of said logs, I would grow tired of charting them. Never. These logs mean the world to me. Still, for all my efforts, I am nowhere closer to my end goal. That haunting red string ever eludes me.
Though it pains me to say it, I fear my time is drawing close to an end. My life support systems have been alarming as of late, pointing to my failing vital signs. Every day I am greeted with a new ache that was not there the day before. It’s only a matter of time now.
And so begs the question. Should I worry that I have squandered my life? Should I have listened to the wisdom of my loved ones and stayed behind? And finally, when I close my eyes for the final time, will I be filled with nothing but regret?
After much contemplation, I keep circling back to the same conclusion: No- no, I think not.
My life living amongst the stars has been an unforgettable journey that I cherish every single moment. Back at Earth, life was cyclical, drab, routine even. Out here, there are a thousand things to marvel at and then a thousand more. I thought chasing after the red thread of fate would lead me to the love of my life. Sadly, that never came to pass. However, the journey in and of itself is worth more than its weight in gold. I stand by those words.
But more so than that, I have discovered something that I could never hope to back on Earth. You see, all my life I thought something to be missing. I lived a life of chock-full of discontent. I was always left wanting, but never appreciative. However, in the solitude of space, I found what I was missing- a sense of self-worth and acceptance. For the first time in my life, I understand what it means to not only be content but to also love oneself. And let me tell you- that is a beautiful thing.
___
Thanks for reading! r/86Fiction
|
Dear Elon Musk,
Please keep reading! I know you get many e-mails. But this one is very important!
I don't know much about business practices. If the one reading this is an employee of Mr Musk, please
bring this e-mail to Mr Musk personally! If this is an AI that pre-reads e-mails...
I am not sure how to plead with machines. Please, this has to get to Mr. Musk!
Mr Musk, thanks so much for reading my e-mail! It is my deepest wish that you will
receive it. I have no idea how it will reach you. I know nothing about business or technology.
You are of course the opposite, and that's why I am writing you!
I know your time is valuable. I will try to be short. Although I cannot help myself from rambling. This is just
my nature. If I had the funds, I would hire an editor to rewrite all this! Alas
I am deeply in debt. But I will get to the point!
As I write this e-mail, I realize it will sound weird. I realize you are a lunatic magnet.
AI, space, brains, etc, crazy people can't get enough of those. But I assure you, I am different.
I am completely sane! Although I have no scientific proof for what I am about to write!
I'll just come out with it: I see red strings between soulmates. If two soulmates walk by in the street,
I see a string that connects them. Is that crazy? I assure you I am not crazy!
Of course, I never tell anyone! Nobody wants to be
informed that person X or Y is or is not their soulmate. Trust me, I found this out the hard way.
But believe me, it is very accurate. My mom and dad, for example. I knew they would stay together forever. And they did.
They died together last year! I can give you a list of other examples, although I have
no scientific proof!
I tend to forget what I'm supposed to be doing. Last month, for example, I had a
job interview, but I totally forgot. Yes, I'm currently unemployed. I had some odds jobs here
and there. At my least job, two office workers were connected with soulmate strings. And they were married to other
people. You can imagine the daily distraction quickly got me fired. Impossible to work with
such visions!
I feel like this vision is something sacred that should not be messed with. But I am only human!
You are probably wondering: How great for you, you found your soulmate years ago, just by following the string.
Alas, no. I am single. And my string... it goes nowhere. It just extends up into the sky.
Not sure what that means. Maybe you can tell me? You are good at figuring out systems and problems!
I think it means I'm the only one with the vision. I see plenty of people without any red string
at all. I suppose they will never find the true one.
But mine goes up into the sky! That makes me special.
But nevertheless all my relationships have failed so far.
I'm not blaming the string! I know it's probably my own fault.
I'm not so attractive to begin with. And I'm terribly shy. I mostly keep to myself. Then, there is the acne...
It's gotten a bit better over the years. But alas, then the baldness and wrinkles helped to bury any hopes I might have had.
The acne gets worse when it matters: the day before a date, you bet it will start oozing greenish, yellowish
goo and everything just gets infected.
One time I was basically blind. The area around my eyes was all swollen.
I tried to go on the date anyway. She had seen some photos of me. But what appeared before her was obviously not comparable
to a photo with soft lighting and smoothing filter. She took one look at me and made an excuse. The date took
about ten seconds in all.
She was Russian. Svetlana. We had been talking for a couple of months online. We were so compatible. It was crazy. I
had started to learn Russian for her. Every spare moment I was studying Russian or thinking of ways to impress her.
I guess it was not meant to be. My red string was going up into space, after all. And hers was going somewhere west.
I am not proud of what I did after that. I followed her red string. It was quite a drive. I lost track and
had to restart a couple of times. One time, I lost track because a dog bit my leg when I got out of the
highway supermarket shop. My leg is still suffering from that. I have a slight limp.
I managed to find the guy, her soulmate, in the end. He looked normal. His skin was smooth, for the most part.
I could not be mad at him. He looked nice enough. I went back to my car and cried all the way home.
Mr Musk, yes, I have suffered a lot in my life. I was never good at belonging. I have been alone
most of my life. Because of my acne. And I'm not so coherent when I talk to people. I ramble.
People nod, and never invite me back.
Do you know about loneliness? It is crushing. Also, being reminded every second that my red string
goes nowhere... knowing I will remain without a soulmate for the rest of my life... it is unbearable.
I've had many dark moments, depression,
unable to get out of bed. Now that my parents are dead, I have no reason
to keep going. There is nobody to be sad or feel guilty when I do pass.
So yesterday, I decided
this was it. I had given it my best shot. I had fought and fought. But
if there is no more hope, one has to face reality and give up. No use to lie face-down in the mud all day.
I decided to drive my car to Rudger Cliff Point.
It is a place where many romances started. Many times I've been there to reflect while overlooking
the Rudgerville valley.
You know, the red strings
are pretty. They vibrate, dance, shifting subtlety in hue. Vibrant.
I could stare at it for hours. But lately they just brought tears to my eyes.
Anyway, Mr Musk. I will get to the point!
I was about to drive my car off the cliff. Yes. Suicide.
Until I heard your voice on the
radio! It might sound stupid. But it was only at that point that it really clicked. I never really
thought about it before. But you were talking about space travel. How it was about to become reality
soon, and it clicked! Of course. My soulmate exists! She is out there. Up there
in the sky, in space! I'm the only one with a space string which means I have to go to space!
I never found my way here on earth, for a reason! I was meant to leave it.
I will attach my CV and photo. I know it contains only failures, and my
photo being the biggest one of all. Maybe you can give me my own capsule so the other
astronauts don't have to look at me. Or some kind of space mask?
This is my fate. I can tell you are also a man who believes in fate.
In return, I can tell you who your soulmate is. I will have to meet you in person,
as the strings don't show up on photos or video. I will do this for you. You will find your soulmate,
and spend the rest of your life with her! And in return, I ask that you make the
same thing happen for me. Send me to space. You are my only hope!
| 2020-01-13T14:41:02 | 2020-01-13T13:52:04 | 111 | 60 |
[WP] "They said that gluing salt to a baseball bat to fight ghosts was a stupid idea, but who's laughing now?" you say as you whacked the ghost again.
|
>**APPARITIONS AND APATHY**
"The *salt doesn't matter* and *stop that, it hurts!*" Screamed the ghost as I thrashed him.
"W-wait, but, the salt."
"The *bat is what hurts, idiot!*"
"But my priest said that consecrated salt-"
"That *myth* was invented so dumb teenagers would stop picking fights with ghosts!" The ghost said, glaring at me with its partially translucent visage.
"Oh." I lowered my bat.
"Now, luckily for you, I'm haunting you for a *good* reason. A *positive* reason. But if you hit me with that bat again, it's gonna become a *bad* haunting."
"W-why are you haunting me at all?"
The ghost looked away. "Your grandfather."
"Grandpa? He died, like, a month ago. You're not him, though!"
"No, I definitely am not. Nor was your grandfather a ghost. However, as he lay in the space between the worlds, he talked with me. Once upon a time, I was a very angry human. Life had been hard on me, and I took that frustration out on everyone I came across. When I died in the hospital, I terrorized the nurses as a spirit- I'd been there for months. Until your grandfather spoke with me, and...something about him."
"Was he chewing on straw? He was always chewing on straw in real life."
The ghost chuckled. "Yes, he was. He was dressed as a farmer, and his air was so...peaceful. Yet he told me he had had a hard life, too. So I asked him why he was how he was, why he wasn't like me."
"What did he say?"
"He said it was his grandson."
Tears began to sting my eyes.
"Though he had lost a lot of peace of mind in the war, and he lost his son early to cancer- he had you. His grandson. And he knew that if he kept the hate in his heart, it would pass to you. He told me something similar. So, I told him I'd keep an eye on you. But I'm not very good at being *quiet* with my energy- I always used it aggressively, tossing books off the shelves in the mere wake of my energy, that kind of thing."
"Yeah, speaking of..." I said, picking up my school binders.
A note fell out of the binder. It was written in red ink, pressed so hard against the paper there were tears running in the fabric.
More hate mail. I wasn't popular at school.
The ghost did not fail to notice. "Oh, good. You're being bullied, aren't you?"
"Why is that a good thing?!" I demanded incredulously. "Yes, I'm being bullied, because grandpa paid for me to attend this stupid fancy rich kid school and I don't fit in, and they keep telling me to leave." Unbalanced by the talk of Grandpa's death, I was letting everything spill out. Usually I was...quieter about these things.
"Here's why it's good; I'm not gifted at being subtle or gentle. I may not be able to help you get your first girlfriend, or be at your side for your first heartbreak. I mean, I'll try, but I'll be garbage at it."
The ghost went over to the hateful letter.
"But this? This I can *fix*."
r/nystorm_writes
|
The Dead Sea dried to bleach-bone sand and the spirits burst from their tomb. It was almost expected. The whole world was burning: The Amazon had long turned to desert, the polar caps melted to ice-cube memories, the permafrost woken from its millennial slumber.
It was a cold year. The work was hard and the soil unreceptive. We spent time digging. Trenches, tunnels, cities. Burrowed deep into the earth in search of freshwater aquifers, in search of cooler climates and habitable subfloors, in search of a new life.
The surface was gone, condemned, green haze over a poisoned sky. My life was poison: Toxic fumes from the diesel belching borer’s, mud sprayed with jet-pump diggers, long hours with no relief. It reeked. The whole tunnel smelled like men and sweat and the inescapable staleness of purified air. Fourteen-hundred feet beneath Boston we labored to carve out a new life in the ruins of soil and memories.
I hated that.
And for what? An uncertain future, a drink at the end of a long day, a touch on the shoulder, the groan, and squelch of air mattresses. But there was nothing pleasurable about this. We were all going through the motions. Just hanging on. Just praying that someone else could fix this goliath of a hole we had dug for ourselves.
So when the last inch of water evaporated in a salty haze from the tomb of eons, and the first spirits rose like mist, it was almost a relief. We finally had something to fight for. The end was in sight. And for me, well, my war was finally beginning.
…
The year is 2093.
I stood in the main elevator shaft of the Gamma Tubes and slapped the liftgate closed. Around me are sirens: the red-and-white wail. Fluorescents shine on white-painted, concrete bunker walls. The liftgate churns.
*Faster! Goddamit, Faster!*
*I’m sweating. The liftgate moves at a mile-per-minute and the safehouse is thirty floors above me. I’m not going to make it.* Screams rise from below. White and blue shadows dance and dart as they climb the shaft. Their ethereal hands grasp and slip and catch the rungs of the ladder as they climb. And they do climb—like a pack of ravenous baboons, jeering and howling and grasping the walls.
They scratch against the concrete with a slow scraping and I tap the aluminum bat on the perforated steel of the liftgate. *Tap-a-tap.* Red warning lights mix eerie purple with their blue forms. I count the shadows. One, two, five clamoring towards me. They are getting closer. I start to smell the acrid burn of plasma, like spent electricity, like bottle lightning ready to singe and tear and rip and claw.
*Good god,* I’ve seen those things rip a man apart in seconds.
*Faster!*
The bat tap-taps against the steel and I wonder how the other survivors will remember me. I tried to be a good man. I really did. Amos always said I’d die alone, no friends, nobody to weep for me. We laughed and I told him to fuck off and we’d down another shot of whiskey to numb the end of the workday. I never thought he’d be right.
If I made it back to the safe room, I’d punch him myself.
Or hug him.
Hell, I’d give him my last bottle of Old Forrester just to be back in smelling distance of his toothless grin and his smudge smile. I think he’d appreciate the hustle, at my last, if nothing else. He was always that sort of man. Talks a big talk, but at the end of the day, if you put up, he shut up. I respect that. I appreciate that.
I’m going to miss that smug sumbitch.
Then there’s Rose.
She’s tough as thorns but has that smile about her. Wears a forlorn look, like she’s always searching for something. I see it in her smile, the twitch of her lips, the gentle tap-tap of her bots on the concrete. She’s dancing. She’s trying hard to remember how to dance, to sing, to remember the music.
A year back, in the deep bowels of the Delta Tunnels we found an antique MP3 Player. The thing must have been a hundred years old, barely worked, and we didn’t even have the right batteries for it. We had six, maybe ten minutes of life, and the speaker crackled, and we were on the run, stuck together, unsure if we were going to make it across the chutes.
“Dance with me?” she asked, a fire in her eyes.
I remember her hands rough against mine, the smell of singed electricity as the blasted ghosts swarmed closer, those precious minutes as the speaker played and we moved in a two-step, moved in sequence. She came into her own, and I have never seen her smile like she did that night, hips twirling, lips locked together.
One moment of bliss before the music failed.
*Rose.*
The liftgate comes to a screeching halt.
It’s the middle of the tunnel. Power’s cut. It’s another fifty feet up to the entrance to the side chute. I slam my hands against the emergency button but the liftgate does nothing. Howls from below. Whoops of delight. The spirits are ravenous.
The liftgate groans with a heave of metal. Beneath the grated steel are frayed wires, scraped steel, cut cables. The ghosts are getting smarter.
They are nearly level with me.
I have no choice. I have to climb. I run to the edge of the liftgate and clamor over the safety railing. Below me is a thousand-foot drop into nothingness. The liftgate doesn’t completely fill the shaft; there’s a small gap for airflow. Now I need to jump, from the ledge, grab the rungs of the ladder, ascend to the side chute, fight off the ghosts, and not fall to my death.
In that order.
I wedge the aluminum bat in the drawers of my trousers and wince at the cool of metal on flesh. The spirits are ten rungs below. Can I climb faster? I sure hope so. Otherwise, I’ll be a grease stain and shreds of cloth and memories on the floor of an abandoned tunnel.
I take a breath.
And maybe if I make it back, I’ll ask Rose to marry me. It’ll be a great wedding. Not even Amos can stop us. I could even bring some booze, my very last bottle. It’ll be fun. *Isn’t this fun?*
“Fuck it,” I say.
I jump.
&#x200B;
***
More Stories at r/BLT_WITH_RANCH
| 2020-10-04T22:45:27 | 2020-10-04T18:43:52 | 1,072 | 153 |
[WP] You are an all-powerful warlord, unmatched in your strength. Today a lowly knight challenged you in your throne room and died with a single strike. Suddenly you feel dizzy, and you're back in your throne. The same knight walks in, and dodges your first swing.
|
It was probably the tenth time that the pup in mismatched armor with a dented shield and that shabby excuse for a blade screamed "Die Destroyer!" that I realized that I was going to be doing this for a while. So I stopped the fight. Dropped my sword, held my hands up and just like that-
-I'm sitting in my throne again. The doors open again. and this nuisance walks in. Again.
And again.
Again again again again.
That kind of thing isn't natural, obviously. I had asked all the questions. Am I going crazy? Am I being punished by some God who finally looked down on this barren creation and didn't like that I had brought order to chaos?
I, who ended the water wars, united the tribes, and managed to civilize these backwater, uneducated, homicidal barbarians?
No wait, I fought barbarians. These assholes just snuck around, setting fire to each other's camps, letting the earth do the dirty work for them.
But enough about me, back to this guy that is screaming "Die Destroyer!" so dramatically for the 5,736th time.
I've been counting.
This time, I finally try the one thing I should have done all along. I keep my magnificent, world conquering, superiorly armored ass in my seat. "No."
And just like that, he stops. "What do you mean, No?"
And that's more words than he's ever actually said in this room. "No, I'm not fighting you. You can't win. And for whatever arcane reason, if you can't win, I have to keep fighting you til you do."
He deflates. "I will learn."
I laugh. "Eventually. But tell me, what does the magic feel like, for you? Has it been pleasant, this vicious cycle that strips away your mind? I want to move forward. You need to. Before you forget why you're doing this."
"So how am I to do that, with you alive? He sounds broken. "I don't even know why I came for you in the first place. "
I stare horrified. He slumps down. There's a nervous chatter going through the court. A helmet rolls from a desperate man. A man that comes for me in my dreams.
Every great conqueror starts somewhere. As much as I would like to play the benevolent savior, my blood was not spilled for this world's sins.
Quite the opposite.
Here before me, is my first kill. My most angry moment in my life. The man who forged my path for me. "Tell me, do you even know who you are?"
Tears are streaming down his face. As defeated as my words have made him where my sword has failed, I feel hollow as he sobs out a single syllable. Steeling himself, he forces himself up, retrieving his helmet, and charging at me.
And in that moment, I know I am dead.
I am paying, finally, for my sins.
I am in hell.
My father said yes.
|
(First time writing here, so here goes.)
My sword slammed into the ground, leaving a large gash in the stone floor of my throne room, the clang if metal echoing throughout. The somewhat meek-looking knight seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and threw out a poorly performed thrust with his blade, which left him off balance. I stepped to the side to dodge it, grabbed the blade, and stabbed him through his stomach.
Then, there was that dizzy feeling again, and the next thing I knew, I was on my throne again for the third time. Yet again, the pathetic knight stepped into my throne room and challenge me. Before walking down to him, I glared at him, and he seemed to be frightened. This time, rather than casually walk down the steps from my throne, I slowly stepped down, staring at him the whole time. Upon arriving in front of him, I sighed and readied myself. Just like before, he dodged my vertical swing. Again, that wretched clanging sound echoed through the room and my ears. He didn't seem as relieved this time, though. He did his thrust attack just as before, but it was with much more technique this time around. I stepped to the side again, but since he wasn't off balance this time, he was able to swing his sword at me immediately. I used the pommel of my sword to knock his away, disarming him. Angrily, I yelled at him; "What kind of trickery is this? Why are you doing this!?" He gave a surprised yelp, realizing I had been remembering everything.
Then that dizzy feeling again, and I'm back to my throne. The knight again walked in, but with a much different expression on his face; one of pure fear. But still, he issued his challenge just like he had earlier. I took a deep breath as I looked upon the cowardly, trickster knight. Even with his plate armor and his rather nasty looking blade, he still looked weak. There was a bit more confidence there than when he first arrived, but he was still far from an actual warrior. As I silently walked down towards him, absent-mindedly glancing around at the guards and advisors that were also present in the room, I came up with an idea which I should've come up with before. 'If he can change his actions, then perhaps I could try something different to surprise him again.' I smirked as I arrived in front of him. I lifted up my arm, preparing to slam my blade down as before. The knight dodged preemptively. I smiled as I kicked his leg out from under him and beheaded him. There was no more dizzy feeling. I laughed, happy to be done with him. And then that same feeling was back.
Yet again, I opened my eyes to see the knight challenging me like always. However, at this point, I had had just about enough of this. This repetitious fight had been getting on my nerves for a while now, and I was beginning to get curious why the knight had decided to fight me. Did he intend to claim my kingdom? My riches? Did he come to slay me on behalf of one of the lords I had bested? And how was he able to do this? To seem to reverse time itself? I stood up, and gestures for the guards and the others in the room to leave. The knight looked around, confused as they exited. I stood in front of him again. "Perhaps we can talk instead. Surely you realize by now that you can't win, no matter how much you try." The knight gave me a look of anger mixed with more confusion. "How are you remembering all this? You shouldn't be able to! The spell was meant to work so that no one could!" He seemed rather desperate to know, and as he said this, I began to wonder myself. I then recalled a charm I had been gifted after allowing a sage to stay in my fortress. It was the only item of magical nature that I owned. "I suppose it's due to this charm a sage had given me, many years back." I showed it to the knight, and he looked at it, bewildered. Having answered his question, I asked him mine. "Now, tell me already: why are you here, and why are you able to just...force back time like that?" The knight seemed very hesitant to say anything. After a moment, he spoke. "Well...I've been roaming this land taking on tough opponents. I wanted to be the greatest warrior, but I haven't really been capable of much on my own. One day, this sage came to my hometown. He asked me if he could stay for the night, and I let him. In the morning, he was gone, and left this charm." He pulled out a charm that looked almost exactly like mine, but with some different carvings watched into it. "If I die or simply if I will it to happen, I'll go back in time to a very recent moment. I guess he was the same sage you met, and that's why you're the only person able to remember anything."
Challenging the best warriors and using some time reversing charm to beat them? What a sad idea. It was clear the boy wasn't a very good fighter.but maybe...I spoke up. "I have an idea. I'll train you to make you a better warrior. In return, I want you to stop challenging me and using that charm to reverse time." The boy perked up a bit, but still seemed unsure. "But, well..." After a while more of thinking, he seemed to make up his mind. "Alright. After you train me, I promise I won't use the charm anymore. After all, if you're the one who's training me, why would I need it?" The boy smirked. I chuckled and nodded, and for many months I helped to train him. When it was time for him to leave, we both destroyed our respective charms. After a moment of silence, we noticed a family person on the horizon. The sage, looking much older than I remember him being, but still easily recognizable, waved to us before disappearing over the hill. Me and the now proper knight went our separate ways for many years. However, today I've heard that a familiar knight is heading to my fortress. All that's left to do is wait here for him to challenge me.
(END)
(Okay, that went on longer than I expected. I'm sure there's a ton of stuff I'd need to work on since I don't really write much at all, but I've been seeing cool prompts here for a while and just kinda went for it.)
| 2021-08-19T22:00:24 | 2021-08-19T19:28:24 | 107 | 42 |
[WP] One time, your drunk friend said he was a wizard. You jokingly asked him if he could make you immortal and he agreed. That was 200 years ago.
|
A wizard’s pre-funeral, apparently, was filled with tens of people wearing earth-tone variations of robes and a hat, wisely rubbing their beards, nodding and saying: “It really is about time, isn’t it?”
It was a pre-funeral, not an actual one, because the wizard was not yet dead. It was the privilege of such powerful, arcane beings, apparently, to choose when to die—a deal struck with the devil, a contract written in ink presumably by Merlin. My once-friend—Finthir Cressborn—sat upright in a simple wooden coffin with a sunny smile, a bright spot under today’s grey skies, where ominous, rain-filled clouds loomed large and close like baleful blimps drifting in the sky.
I quietly took my place at the back of the line that snaked in front of Finthir. I thought I had dressed well for a funeral—a simple black suit, only half a century old—but I stood out like a foreign weed in a well-kept garden. Everybody else seemed to know each other, easily slipping into conversation like a fitted glove, while I only received cursory glances and nods.
So I waited. It was fine to be at the back. I’ve waited a few hundred years to ask Finthir a question. A few more minutes mattered little.
I watched the pleasantries proceed politely, the wizard not losing a beat in his greetings and farewells. Then, it was finally my turn.
“Fin.”
The wizard’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and it’s easy to recognize the light of recognition falter, falter, then blink on.
“Lex,” he said, a smile slowly turning wide. “It’s been a long time.”
“We’ve not talked in two hundred years, give or take,” I said.
“That long?”
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose I have you to thank. I wouldn’t have lived this long otherwise.”
“Ah,” Finthir said. For a moment, it looked like he shrunk into the dreariness of the surrounding weather—but a warm mirth shook him and the coffin.
“I was drunk,” he recalled, tapping his temple. “You asked me for immortality.”
“And it happened,” I whispered. “It actually happened.”
Then, the century-old question:
“Why?”
I trembled as I said it. It had to have been a mistake, an error. A wizard, apparently, can choose to die. Am I a painting, a forever remnant of the wizard’s past? Or a occult puppet, whose strings will never be pulled once the master falls?
Both were equally terrifying prospects.
Finthir grew grave, and sat quiet for a moment.
“Have you enjoyed immortality?”
“Can I not?”
“Speak the truth, friend.”
“No,” I admitted. “Not entirely, at least.”
“And that’s why you can be immortal,” Finthir shook his head. “It’s sort of… paradoxical. But then, the arcane is not a science. But we know this, in our heart of hearts—an immortal man is powerful enough. An immortal wizard is too much. I’ll be drunk with power, enjoying every moment—but at what cost?”
“I’m but a man,” I said, kneeling down besides the coffin. “Have I done right these past centuries? I’m… not sure.”
“As a wizard, I’m obliged to inform you: I can remove it, if you want,” Finthir lowered his voice. “I have enough arcane power left to undo my magic. Do you think it a blessing or curse?”
“What about as a friend?”
“I’ve always believed you can be immortal. You were a good friend, and arguably a better man,” he winked. “I was drunk—but sometimes, that’s what inspires one to make a right choice.”
“How do you know I can do right by that choice?”
“You owe nothing to me, and you’ll have the rest of your life to find out, Alex,” Finthir said, his voice fading ever so slightly. He laid back down, and his eyelids shut. “The offer stands for about… a few minutes, I think.”
“I thought you can choose when to die,” I said.
“As can you,” Finthir smiled. “But you wouldn’t make a choice right now without the deadline, will you?”
“Probably not,” I smiled, and shook my head.
I stared up at the skies, the slight peeking of a shy sun through the great grey curtains of the sky. It is beautiful, magnificent, and something I’ll like very much to see again.
“I think it’s a blessing,” I said.
“I’m glad you think so. And I know you’ll give your time to others,” Finthir said. “Speaking of, it’s about time…”
I watched the wizard wane with a satisfied smirk, washed aglow by the emerging sun, always, always beating the day’s grey embrace.
---
r/dexdrafts
|
There’s a hill behind my house, and whenever we were drunk Sylvie called it The Mountain. I said The Mountain was a pretentious name, and she, after elbowing me stiffly between me the ribs, thumbed through my stack of ratty paperbacks until she found a copy of Sir Edmund Hillary’s *High Adventure* hidden beneath a dogeared *Moby Dick*. She laughed and said that now the hill was Everest, and I said that I owned the house, and the hill, and the book, and that if I said it was just a hill, it was just a hill. Now, whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before that age yellowed picture I took that night, her face half-buried in my shoulder because the flash had scared her, I grab my hat and coat and go out to scale Everest.
I’m up there again today. Yuengling has gone out of business but Guinness never will, and Sylvie didn’t hate their porter, so I've brought my last few bottles of West Indies. The name exists, even if the islands don't.
Today the only damp or drizzle is in my head. When I checked the weather report it just said “beautiful,” and if I squint I can just make out the windmills in the distance, turning lazy circles above the town.
“Hey,” I say softly.
The wind carries the word away, and the birds drown it out with high, sad tones, all the pretty songbirds lost in time. I sit down in the dewy grass and take her picture out of my pocket, the one I always stare at, the one I took that night, and I hold it up to the sunrise.
She wore her favorite leggings and the hoodie that she stole from me. She was rosy-cheeked and giggling, and right after she’d looked me dead in the eye and said “I’m a wizard, Harry,” and then I’d said I always knew she was a witch, and then I’d said I misspoke, that I’d meant to say that she was a bitch, and could she please give me back my favorite hoodie?
I take my jacket off and fold it up, lay the picture on it. It’s in a little gilt frame that I got in France, “the motherland,” as Sylvie would have called it, even though she’d been born in Kansas too, and had never gone farther than Illinois.
I lay back in the grass, listening to all the damp, drizzly November-ness of the day in my head. It’s so much worse this time of year.
“I’m serious,” she said.
“Me too,” I deadpanned.
“Dude,” she said, all the giggle going out of her voice. “Stop that.”
And even though two hundred years have passed since that night, and even though I’ve relived that night ten thousand times in the bed we sometimes shared, or up here on Everest with a bottle of beer she didn’t hate I still don’t know why I didn’t believe her.
All the signs were there. There was the odd seriousness in her pretty, elfin features. She held her mouth at just *that* angle, and when she took my hand and tugged me out of the house and up the slope there was an urgency, a wild abandon—desperation.
There were all the signs of a girl who wanted to be believed.
“What?” I said. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not enough,” she said. “I’m serious, I’m a wizard. Not a witch, witches are different.
“Sylvie,” I said, “I’ve known you since fourth grade.”
“And?”
“And when exactly did this happen?”
Sylvie shrugged.
I remember that I snapped my fingers. I remember that she jumped. I remember taking a long sip and finding the bottom of the bottle, tossing it down Everest, and watching it roll into the darkness at the base of the hill. And I remember saying, “Then why are you still in Kansas?”
And she said, “I never said I was a good one.”
I take a deep, shaky breath. The sun is clear of the horizon now, golden rays spill across the fields, corn as far as the eye can see. In two hundred years, I think corn is the one part of Kansas that never changed. If Sylvie were here, sprawled out across Everest with me, I could take her chin and point her gaze to the horizon and even though the birds were wrong she’d feel right at home.
But the sun illuminates her picture, and I’m on my last beer, and there’s a glint in the corner of my eye that I can scarcely look at, because if I do, if I turn my head at all, this substitute for pistol and ball will go straight to hell like it always does.
So I stare at the picture. I pick it up, and I let myself slip back into Sylvie, my best friend. For a moment, the noise quiets, the pitter-patter of the frigid rain in my head slips away.
“So what you’re saying,” I’d said, “is that you can’t prove it.”
“I never said that,” Sylvie said.
“Yeah? Then what will you do?”
Sylvie made an annoyed expression, lips pursed, and then she swept me off my feet, pushing me backward until we both sprawled across the grass. In the two hundred years since then, I think that she did it so I wouldn’t see her, at least for the moment she needed to compose herself. I think Sylvie did it because she was nervous.
“I’ll blow your fucking mind,” she said, looking down at me.
I laughed, and smiled, and joked—I swear I joked. “So make me immortal or something,” I said.
Sylvie went a little pale. Her eyes tightened, the smudged wings of her eyeliner managed to highlight her surprise. “I never said I was—”
“What,” I interrupted, “a witch?”
And then the paleness was gone, replaced by fire, and the girl who’d pushed me down just to hide herself. She made a little grunting sound in the back of her throat, and then she said a quick phrase beneath her breath, words that twisted and fractured in the gloom.
Sylvie grabbed me by the collar, swung a leg across my body, and kissed me as hard as she ever had.
When it was done, it was like all the air had gone out of the world. I lay there panting, staring up at her. She was so beautiful, a willowy, dark-haired girl, body swimming in my hoodie, the sleeves rolled up so they wouldn’t spill over her hands.
“See?” Sylvie said, softly.
Then again, as if from a great distance, “See?”
A third time, like she was lost on Everest: “See?”
And then something else. It might have been, “Oh god.”
Sylvie crumpled forward, lifelessly, onto my chest. A wizard, but not a good one. Like me: a friend, but the worst one anyone ever had.
And then the sun hits that perfect angle, and back in the real world, two hundred years later, I glance over at the blinding glint in the corner of my eye. The marble headstone that marks the spot where she died, sprawled across my chest, lost along with the last human bits of me.
There’s a rag in my jacket pocket, a bottle of polish. I keep Sylvie’s stone spotless and beautiful, so bright I can’t help but look at it, no matter how hard I try not to.
“Hey,” I say again. “I miss you.”
And then, “I’m sorry.”
And then, “Take it back.”
When the sun hits high noon I start polishing. When the sun goes down I stop. And when it rises the next day I’m back on Everest again, still the same man I was the night before, with the same wounds, and the same aching hole where Sylvie should be.
An immortal, timeless, in a place that only time could heal.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
As always, there's tons more at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you.
| 2022-01-01T11:55:09 | 2022-01-01T11:46:36 | 347 | 89 |
[WP].You are sitting outside your house, enjoying the dying embers of the campfire when two glowing eyes open to stare at you. " Greetings, " it rasped, " may I share your fire tonight?"
|
I’ve always enjoyed this little cabin with it’s view of the mountains and view of Deep Lake. Far from civilization it gives me a sense of calm unlike anywhere else. Watching the moon rise over the mountains while I sit by the firepit out front has been one of my favorite pastimes for so many years now it’s hard to remember when I started.
As my fire burned down and I was tired enough for the evening, at the edge of the trees I could see a pair of eyes softly glowing in the distance.
“I can see you over there, you can come closer, I'm not going to bite.”
The eyes unblinkingly grew closer.
At the edge of my light they spoke, “Greetings, may I share the fire with you tonight?”
“I don’t see why not,” I reach for the last pair of logs near my chair, “I think I can keep the fire going a little while longer.”
“Thank you.”
The eyes got closer but stayed just out of the light, unmoving.
“Why don’t you come over here and have a seat closer to the fire,” I gestured to the other chairs, “have your pick, they're nice and sturdy, I built them years ago with my grandkids,” I smiled, “We worked a whole summer out here making them and my cabin.”
“Some find my form… unsettling, you may not wish to see me now.”
“Alright then if you prefer,” silence followed for what felt like forever. “So what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”
“I’m picking up an old friend. But they don’t know it yet.”
“Whisking someone off in the dead of night without them knowing? Little spooky don’t you think?”
“I’ll talk with them first so it’s not too upsetting. It’s the preferred way.”
“How’s that the preferred way?”
Silence followed for so long I was about to speak, “It’s easier,” there was a pain in their voice. I knew I shouldn’t press further.
“So are you meeting them by the lake? You should know the forecast said a snowstorm was moving in.”
“It won’t be much of a concern for us, the weather never is.”
“The prepared type huh? That’s always good.”
We sat in silence as the fire burned down and was barely more than embers. It had gotten very cold by now. I looked to the stars above and saw the clouds had moved in without me noticing. And a snowflake touched my nose. When I looked back down the eyes were in the chair across from me. I couldn’t make out the details of what they looked like, just the eyes stood out. A soft glow from them not too dissimilar to the glowing embers of a fire.
“Finally felt like taking a seat, huh?”
“They looked quite comfortable and I didn’t want to miss the chance. I could rest for a long time in one of these.”
“I always think the same thing, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve fallen asleep out here in this chair thinking about that summer”
“I believe it,” the tone, it was almost like they wanted to say, “I know.”
“I’m pretty tired, so I’m going to go to sleep,” my eyes were feeling heavier with each breath, “you can stay as long as you like just be sure that the fire is out before you leave.”
My limbs were feeling too heavy to move. Maybe I just nap a little before I head inside.
“I always do.”
|
*This is a sequel to another prompt I did a while back, [which is here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dl8nrh/wp_after_a_genie_serves_1000_masters_and_gives/f4pj1ur/). It's definitely a divergence from the thread prompt, but I liked the setup it gave me and have been meaning to write a sequel. Enjoy!*
Toryik leaned into the step, working out the soreness of the day in the warmth of his fire. It was a familiar feeling, one that came most days in this place.
Every morning he got up, made a hearty meal, and upon being summoned to a new mortal, granted their desire. Then he returned, hunted for game or firewood till the sun began to dip, and was summoned to the mortal's aid once more, often so they could compound on their wishes in greed. He'd tidy up from the day's work, set a fire for the nights cooking, and return to the mortal for one last mistake, or on rare occasions, a righting of several. Finally, it was back to his home and dinner, perfect and delicious as always.
Toryik didn't particularly mind his fate. His people, now a distant memory in the oceans of time, had told stories of afterlives of glory and honor, constant war and grand feast halls. If such things existed, they would have bored him. Toryik had been a simple mortal, and never wanted for more than he needed. In many ways, his so-called enslavement had been a boon; his fellow raiders had been put to the sword in a far-off land, while he had gained a private cottage and immortality.
He glanced at the dying fire, eyes pausing on the other haunch of lynx appraisingly, then groaned back into a sitting position. As he reached for his stick to stir the embers, he froze.
Across from him, hovering at chest height in the dark of the firs, two eyes smoldered like green coals. As they locked to his own, a glint of white fang opened underneath, and a voice like the bark of an ash tree rasped out.
"Greetings," the beast spoke. "May I share the warmth of your fire?"
Toryik pondered his options. His axe was far from him, his hunting knife insufficient to kill before a bear or wolf reached his throat. The stick in his hand, meant for stirring the fire, was possibly sturdy enough to break a mundane wolf's charge, but the beast was large enough that it would probably snap it like so much kindling. With only a plan to kick up embers in mind, Toryik decided to nod, beckoning the monster forth.
It was not a bear, or a wolf, or indeed anything Toryik had ever seen. The beast most resembled his dinner in life, a lynx, but of a scale even legends of monsters would have thought more ridiculous than terrible; an opinion he no longer shared. Its muzzle could have opened to take in a man's head, its paws dinnerplates. The fur was golden, the body as large as any bear, and around its neck a mane the color of a maple tree in the harvest season flowed down the shoulders like a cape. When it moved, it was as water flowed; where it went, a smell like the warm fields of the southern lands followed. As Toryik watched, hand gripping the stick and aches forgotten, the cat sat by the fire across from him, light glimmering in its eyes.
"What are you?" Toryik asked. "A spirit? Some god, come to show me humility? A fever dream?"
The beast flashed fangs again, in a very human smile that raised his own hackles all the worse than a snarl might have. "All of that and none, my friend," it replied in a voice like rainfall on leaves, "as I would say of you."
Toryik's eyes widened, and he let go of the stick. It would be useless for a fight after all; only his axe could possibly help here. Instead, he leaned forward with some interest, asking what he already knew. "You are like me? A wish-giver?"
"A different binding, but we are kin," it replied, laying down to cover half the area around the fire. "For tonight, I am your guest, and you may ask one favor of me."
"A favor?"
"A wish," it clarified, "but that is work, and work comes after the fire is put out in the morning."
Toryik decided to accept this after a moment, despite his thoughts on how his 'guest' had gained that title. He opted to take up the stick once again, and return to tending the now-smoldering fire.
"Can I offer you something?" he asked the beast. "I'm going to get some more wood, and won't be back for a while."
"That shank looks delicious," it replied, eyeing the lynx. "I would not want to impose, but drink might be welcome. It is a night to celebrate, after all."
Toryik pushed the lynx over as he got up, soreness making itself known once more as he headed into the cottage. Emerging with a small cask of monk's whiskey(an old, treasured bit of plunder that thankfully followed him to this place) and his axe, he asked of the cat, "A night to celebrate? What, your arrival?"
"You don't know?". It took a bite of meat as he set down the cask and walked to the chopping block. "Tonight, you have served a thousand masters, and granted each all they were entitled to ask for. Now it is your turn."
Toryik hefted the axe, bringing it down on an overlarge log as he thought. A thousand masters? Was that all? Surely it was more, and there was no need for fanfare. He did his job and liked it, far more than he'd ever liked raiding. It felt almost perverse to get a reward, when he had everything he needed already.
He returned to the fire in silence, stacking up a new chimney on the guttering coals to make a proper roasting fire. The lynx would not be enough for them, once they'd gotten into the drink, and he had a small boar hanging up that he'd been saving for the next wood day. Taking his axe up again, he slipped into the forest, cut down a yearling tree, and dragged it back to the fire to fashion a spit.
The cat watched in silence, finishing its snack, and only broke the silence once he'd set up the boar and fetched some mugs.
| 2022-01-06T02:41:12 | 2022-01-06T01:11:59 | 60 | 14 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them
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We've studied them for hundreds of years. It was a simple planet, barely reaching passed their own moon. Our records showed they knew of war, they knew it well, but in their modern times they avoided it with diplomacy. The weaklings pleadings of mercy to the powerful.
Our emperor laughed. Such actions mean weakness to our kind, and our victories have all but proven this true.
Their diplomats came. Offered knowledge, culture, trinkets. Worthless. Their diplomats we're the first blood spilled.
I remember when we received our first casualties.
All at once, our orbital starships crashed upon their planets surface.
We knew they had weapons, but we underestimated their power. Nuclear bombs. The same material used to once power our early space fairing vessels, weaponized. Our ancestors beloved it impossible. Not for the humans.
We crashed and we're met by explosions of fire that melted our hauls, ammunition made from metals and not energy, making our shields useless. Our blasters had ten shots before a recharge. Their firearms fired off thousands in a second. Our dead went from thousands to millions.
The few that were not killed, were taken prisoner. Torture unlike anything our race could fathom. Brutality on par with the ancient dark ones of myth. Humanity didn't offer diplomacy as a weakness... They were being kind.
They were showing us mercy, for we knew not what their race was capable of. Against one another, they are evenly matched. United against a common enemy, we never stood a chance.
They took our technology, modified it, reverse engineered it, improved it.
In a week, they had their own armadas. In a month, they overthrew all our nearest outposts and colonies, both made by us and taken from the weak.
In a year, our empire was in ashes.
To all who hear this transmission, beware, beware the species known as Humans. For if you see one. Accept their kindness, accept their mercy... For their wrath could burn the whole galaxy...
|
*<<Igitur qui desiderat pacem, praeparet bellum>>. <<He who desires peace, shall prepare for war>>.* The great roman writer Vegecio said those words 2500 years ago and, even as mankind has ventured into space, we have not forgotten, for ours is a history filled with war and death.
When mankind found out we were not alone in the universe, and that other intelligence civilisations were able to compete or surpass our dominance, something switched in our collective mind. In a matter of decades, inner wars became a thing of the past. Yes, we had our struggles and ocasional conflicts, but never again a full war between human factions was declared.
Yet, our greatest weapon against the alien invaders were not our missiles or plasma cannons: it was our diplomats. Most conflicts were avoided by wise words, secret deals and the sorts. We resorted to cultural exchange, to accept some members of other species as some sort of exchange students and workers. We sent humanitary aid to those planets, no matter the species, that were struggling with famine, plagues or wars. We gathered a good reputation among others. It was a golden age of exploration, diplomacy and cultural and scientific advances. We were at peace, for the first time in our long history.
But peace cannot last forever. And we were prepared for it. However, we were not prepared enough.
The Balishtar Empire did not issue any warnings or demmands. Six months ago, they launched a massive offensive on our borders, and several planets were lost. The Balishtar were a race that had refused most contacts with us: reptilian in nature and aspect, extremely xenophobic and militaristic. We thought they wanted to conquer our planets and populace, maybe enslave them... but not that. Not what the scarce resistance managed to broadcast through the FTL network.
They butchered the citizens.
They did execute our brothers and sisters. Even when they surrendered, even when they were defenseless, even when they were not a threat anymore. The images were broadcasted to every single planet, moon, asteroid, ship and station of our civilisation. It was genocide. And the Balishtar were advancing towards Navion Prime.
Navion Prime wasis a trading planet. There are some military bases on the surface, and some orbital defenses as well, but not enough. A rushed evacuation was declared, as we sent some fleets to delay the enemy, and every single pilot available tried to evacuate as many citizens as they could. It was not enough, there were billions of people in Navion Prime. But, in mist of this chaos, a video message was sent to every single human colony and ship. An woman in her early sixties, dressed in military fatiges, adressed us:
"*This is Lieutenant Commander Sariah, from the thirteenth assault regiment. As you well know, Navion Prime is the next target of the Balishtar genocidal campaign, and we are unable to stop their fleets. High Command has ordered to evacuate the planet and let the enemy take it.*
*I refuse to follow those orders. They can court martial themselves.*
*At this moment, I am leading my regiment to Navion Prime. Our objective is to delay the enemy long enough to give our forces the time to gather and counterattack. And I ask you: if you have any military background, if you can fly a combat capable ship of any size, if you have experience on the battlefield, or even if you just want to help us: join us in Navion Prime.*
*I will not lie to you: I do not believe we can win. But I swear to God, we will delay them! If When and if they get over us, they will find the might of our fleets kicking their sorry asses back to their homeworld!!"*
And it was enough. Enough for every single company to dedicate their resources to the war effort. Enough for millions to enlist in the army. Enough for me, among many others, to join the defense of Navion Prime.
This happened two weeks ago.
Five days ago, the exterior defense stations engaged the enemy.
Yesterday, our orbital defenses opened fire on the enemy advance. Two hours ago, the last defense point was destroyed. One hour ago, I took off from one of the hidden airfields of the planet. *"All squadron leaders: orbital drops detected, sending coordinates",* my radio roars. I check the data and I feel fear, excitement, decission. My fingers clasp around the controls of my ship. "All fighters, follow my signal! Wings one to thirteen, engage enemy ships, everyone else, target the drop pods before they reach the ground!"
My comrades roar their responses in the comms. I push the throttle forward as the augmented reality display shows what my eyes can't see in the distance: hundreds of enemy ships are entering the atmosphere. I chuckle. "We are outnumbered five to one! Don't you dare to die without killing some fucking crocodiles!!"
The sky lits up with the fire of atmospheric defenses. We know we cannot win, but hell, they will regret the day they decided to declare war on humanity. They thought we were weak because we chose peace. What they don't yet know is that it was just a choice, and that war has always been in our nature.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
*EDIT: Grammar*
| 2022-08-05T16:07:13 | 2022-08-05T16:04:03 | 166 | 73 |
[WP] As the president makes her final statement on the legal status of supers, she comments on how much safer the world will be without them making a mess of things. The white house behind her explodes, out of its flames walks a man with light in his eyes. He says three simple words: "Is. That. So?"
|
"Yes, it is so, Atomic" the president addressed the man who had probably just killed over a dozen staffers in an instant, just to make a point.
"You really think you don't need us? You think all of us who spent our lives protecting you pathetic normals will just fade into the shadows?"
"Many supers have done a great deal of good for this nation, atomic, and I won't ask them to pretend they haven't. They'll get medals, probably government jobs too, if they'll stay in line. They aren't what this law is about." Reporters in the crowd, still filming from cover, were stunned to silence, both by the atrocity they'd just seen and how a lone, powerless woman was facing it down. "This law is about people like you, Atomic. For every dozen or so decent heroes, we get a police academy washout wannabe vigilante like you, Atomic."
"You bitch!" He roared, eyes flaring for a burst which would surely decapitate a government. Before he could fire, something hit him from the bushes; a black and silver cable, which wrapped around his head, and more importantly, eyes. A full volley of restraints hit next, binding his arms, legs, and torso until he resembled a cocooned fly in a spider's web from the neck down. There was a glow from behind the first cable, but the binding didn't so much as heat up. "This trap... Dr. Demonic?!" he snarled, his mouth still free. First Amendment, and all that.
The President let out a sigh of relief. "Demonic L.L.C. is the newest contractor of the United States Air Force. It's surprising, what people will do when offered a conditionally blank check. Agents, take him away."
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When super-powered people started appearing five years ago, everyone expected them to fulfill a norm of a hero and a villain, but it didn’t quite work like that.
Being a true hero meant being selfless, and helping everyone equally without any gain. Also, it meant exposing yourself and your family to constant danger. There was no one truly invincible yet, yes, there were some bulletproof people or some that could regenerate deadly wounds but even they could be killed and their loved ones were not bulletproof. In the beginning, there was a guy that could repel bullets, and survive jumps from insane heights, Sensation was his name if I remember correctly. One day he rushed into a burning building to save a dog, a log fell on him and he cooked to death. He was amongst the most popular heroes at the time and the news of his death broke all around the world. That really sobered up a lot of super-powered people.
On the other hand, no one truly wanted to be a villain, there were no people that insane that they wanted to destroy the planet or rule the whole world. Yes, there were some people labeled as villains that “ruled” some smaller cities, but they were no different than your standard crime lords.
A lot of people abused their abilities to gain wealth and fame and that’s all they ever wanted. Some of them even broke into Hollywood, you could do wonders with powered people and their abilities in front or behind the cameras.
When the first “surge” happened, where mostly all powered people got their powers, my friends and I were celebrating my son’s first birthday. Eight of us got powers, four of my friends, three of my wife’s friends, and my cousin. We gathered once again seven days later when we all came to terms with our powers and decided we wouldn’t use them to fight crime, make crime or get the public attention on us. Some of us used our powers discretely to make some easy money but that was it. We wanted to protect our wives, husbands, children, parents, and the rest of the people we cared about. We knew the government would eventually try to do something or some deranged group of people would come after us with a righteous goal in their mind.
And we were somewhat right, the cults formed worshiping super-powered people, some of them even pretended to be their gods. The hate groups were formed that were “protecting” humans against these demons or aliens, or whatever their mantra was, super-powered people.
And the governments were losing their battle for power all over the globe, it was hard to control and contain these powered individuals, and the government hated not being in control.
So that’s why we gathered again in my backyard five years later to watch the Presidents speech tonight.
The barbeque was fired, beers were cooled, kids were entertained and the show was about to come online. The president stepped on the podium in front of the White House and rearranged his papers on live tv. She was a good actor, she knew how to make people listen and how to make them care about the unimportant and forget the important things happening in and outside of our country.
The speech started slowly as always, but there was something there we it could be seen in her eyes, rarely was she this unfocused, and then she said it.
“I believe our country and the world would be a lot safer without the super-powered people, so that’s why from tomorrow every super-powered person will have to be registered in our database. They will all have to check in once a month and they will all have to do the mandatory psychological tests once every three months as well as give us their blood samples so we can further understand their powers. If you know of a super-powered person that has not registered yet, the lines will be open where you will able to call in for 24 hours a day“ The chatter broke on the live tv and the president tried to control the crowd, she wasn’t finished with her speech.
We all looked at each with worried expressions on our faces, not many people knew we had powers, but there were some who knew and some who suspected, this was not good news.
And then it happened on live tv the white house was engulfed in flames, explosions and people screaming could be heard but the live feed didn’t stop.
There was a figure walking out of the flaming building, I knew cocky that walk, it was Inferno, this country’s Voted hero of 2028. He came close and his glowing red eyes were now clearly visible on the tv. He walked toward the President that was frozen in shock and terror and his words echoed across the millions of tv around the world.
“Is that so?” His voice was calm but threatening.
We all looked at each other once again and we all knew what it meant, we were idle for far too long, but we trained all the time, we prepared hoping this moment would never come, but it did.
“It’s time,” Marcus said and we all nodded.
&#x200B;
[Part 2 up below and on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x6bby8/2_the_super_powered_problem/)
[Part 3 out below and on my sub ->](https://www.reddit.com/r/LukasWrites/comments/x6f40j/3_the_super_powered_problem/)
| 2022-09-04T19:00:46 | 2022-09-04T14:28:46 | 97 | 50 |
[WP]The supervillain has no grand plan, just really likes having minions.
|
“But what’s the *plan*?” I asked, noticing that for the first time since the all-hands meeting started, the room had grown perfectly still.
Captain Cruelty cleared this throat. “Well, like I was saying—and as you can clearly see from the power point—your job is to recruit five minions. Once you recruit five minions, you’re given bronze status. If one of your five minions recruits another five minions, then you’re taken up to gold, and will receive this special badge to put on your uniform. If you hit fifty recruits—and they can be recruited directly by you, or indirectly via a sub-recruit—you hit platinum, and will receive—”
“I get that,” I said impatiently. A hushed whisper spread among my fellow minions as if I were somehow in the wrong for cutting the old guy off. “But what’s the *plan*? What’s our mission? What’s the objective? It can’t just be to recruit more minions.”
Cruelty shook his head. “All will be revealed when you hit triple-platinum. But for now—”
“This is bullshit, man,” I said, rising out of my seat. “I paid my five hundred bucks. Now I want to know what the fucking plan i—”
Then suddenly it hit me. Captain Cruelty did have a plan. And he was indeed every bit the criminal mastermind he claimed to be.
|
I dove forward and managed to slam the ball back upward, allowing my right-hand man the Vulture to spike it over the net. Half the henchmen cheered heartily, and the others sulked and gave a little bit of a golf clap. I picked myself up and shook the sand out of my hair as my teammates came up to congratulate me with hearty back slaps and high-fives. Across the court, Henchman 21 prepared to serve, which he was terrible at. This should be easy, and that would make 10 points and yet another victory for me! And this time for real; I told the henchmen that letting me win again would be punishable by death!
The ball arced up high over the net, passing in front of the bright sun; luckily I'd worn my sunglasses. My feet dug into the soft white sand as I braced myself for the play. Henchman 56 bounced the ball back up, and the Vulture prepared to set me up for the spike.
The ball fell flat as we all heard it. The tell-tale drone that we all knew so well. The Condor's biplane. Everyone forgot all about the game and searched the sky wildly. Henchman 12 was the first to spot it, soaring around the smoking peak of the volcano upon which my lair had been built.
With his usual flair for a dramatic entrance, the Condor leapt from the seat of the plane just as my henchmen managed to get back to the anti-aircraft weapons. The plane continued to buzz away on autopilot. He fluttered gracefully through their fire with his billowing red cape and landed in a puff of sand in the volleyball court.
"Morentower," he said, seeing me grimacing at him across the net.
"What are you doing in my lair??" I roared back, wondering how quickly I could get back to the base and grab some superweapons. Which one, though? Maybe the giant robot...
"I'm here to put a stop to your foul plan!" he said. "I decided to take the fight to you today instead of waiting for you to destroy the city!" He advanced forward, fists out in a boxer's stance.
"What *plan*?" I gestured around at the beach. "We're not planning anything today. We're having a beach day." The Vulture began to circle around him, preparing for the fight.
The Condor stopped and surveyed his surroundings, noting the tiki bar and paddleboats for the first time. His hard gaze wavered just a bit, and he lowered his gloved hands slightly.
"That sounds like exactly the kind of story that you *would* use!" he yelled back.
"Dude, just go away," I said. "I'll come invade the city tomorrow or something. Today is my day off."
He glanced around uncertainly. "Well, ummm... Ok, you just watch your back, Morentower! I'm always watching you, even on your days off!" He reached into his utility belt and pulled out the little remote to recall his biplane. "Damn, no signal," he muttered.
"Oh, you think you can just crash Beach Day and get away with it?" I told him, noting the minions returning back from the base through the jungle. "No, no, Condor. You're not going anywhere." I grinned and gave my patented evil laugh as the henchmen circled him.
---
I thumped the ball with my fist, sending it sailing over the net. Without even a second's pause, the Condor leapt unnaturally high into the air and smacked the ball back down over the net so hard that it created a little crater in the sand. The ball was flatter than a pancake. Henchman 23 retrieved it and tossed it into the pile of deflated balls by the side of the court. That's what I get for inviting someone with super strength to play.
"That's the game!" the Condor called out smugly. "How about best 4 out of 7, then, Morentower?" My team had lost the last three since he started playing.
I rolled my eyes and went to get a drink. "Stupid jerk ruins everything..." I muttered under my breath.
---
Duke Morentower is my favorite recurring villain character, who also appears [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2l5vum/wp_heroes_and_villains_are_paid_by_the_hour_with/clrsiia), [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2n9m9s/wp_a_super_villain_is_berated_by_his_parents_for/cmbma3z), and [here](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2uqys5/wp_the_villain_successfully_converts_the/coaw8pq).
| 2015-03-16T08:13:24 | 2015-03-16T08:08:34 | 988 | 208 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills.
|
A new government initiative to solve the overpopulation crisis, the introduction of XP (experience points) which could be gained by any ordinary citizen, had the means to increase one's biological powers beyond humanly measure. Each experience point was acquired by taking the life of another person. One would then take their victims body to an XP hotspot, submit it, and be rewarded with 1 point. It was a primitive game of survival of the fittest, promoted on a civilised playing field. A clash between the natural order we human's so desperately strive to separate ourselves from, and modern co-existence.
The incentives to kill were quite desirable. 1 experience point gained a person the ability to fly, able to soar above and beyond the heavens. 2 experience points granted the ability to breathe beneath water, just as the fish do, and with 3 points, one would be able to run faster than any other creature that had ever lived. Beyond this, there were nothing else could be unlocked until one reached the ultimate level, 1000 points, which granted that person the superlative fantasy; the overcoming of all biological boundaries: *immortality*, the ability to live forever and ever.What had been unattainable since the beginning of our time now became a reality. Humans had now truly surpassed the traditional realm of nature, in that the cycle of life and death no longer existed for some of its members.
I once had the chance to meet one of these immortals.
"*Do you never want do die? How can you possibly live forever?*", I asked Him.
"*Well*", He replied, "*Why do you choose to exist now if you will not live forever? If you are destined to an eternal nothingness, then does that mean you already cease to exist?*".
I did not understand, "*What do you mean Sir? I exist right now just as you do*".
"*You don't. Not by the terms of the universe, but on your own terms you do not exist. For if something is destined to happen, then it has already occurred. This is the nature of time. You are destined to an eternal nothingness, therefore since it will happen and you will never rise for all of eternity, you are already dead*".
He took a sip from a wine glass and continued, "*My destiny is to exist forever. Time no longer exists within, before, or beyond me. I am now everything and anything. I exist as living proof of the logical extreme to which all humans that currently exist and understand their mortality irrationally strive for: the desire to live forever.*"
He put down the glass and looked up towards the sky, "*I am what you wish to be, and I have made an irrevocable mistake.*"
He cried.
I hope at least one person reads this and can understand what this means, for when i put down this pen, I shall cash in the ultimate experience point, *myself*. And this will be the end of the initiative.
We were never meant to fly, so God did not give us wings. We were never meant to dwell with the fish or run faster than the leopard, so God did not give us these abilities. If we weren't meant to be here forever, then why should we be here at all?
edit: formatting
|
Human history has told us we kill because of hate, because of differences, that we fire on our kind for peace or some high-minded goal. We've always held each other at gunpoint, whether literal or behind two large maps of the world with blinking lights. Today, we come to know that as peace, but before the words that passed those lips were stalemate. There was no difference between the two back then, but now we've forged one. Out of sheer necessity.
You see, peacetime is only a construct that exists because of war. Peace was a forgotten definition until the night of November eleventh, two-thousand and fifteen. See, that very night, the world seemed to tick over into another dimension, without even realising. Something cosmic happened, is all I can describe it as. The veil was lifted, some would say, the rules were changed. Murderers, told they were spurned forward by some sense of progress, continued. Serials grew larger, populations shrunk.
People became aware of what it meant to kill. What it meant to harvest someone's flesh for your own material gain. It was for some reason, some galactic hiccup that launched a bubble into the quaint stream of time, that all our realisations came at the same time.
I nursed the revolver in my hand, wiping the debris off the badges one by one. They were little pins, clips that the first shot had walked in with, claiming they gave him power. "Goddamnit, Wes, they're just pins," is what my mother had said, and what I said now to the morning breeze. I was still in my own home, a high vantage point in the shape of an upstate apartment. It was just me now, though. I'd collected their things, whatever offerings to the game they had. Each one was different, marking an individual for who they were, they were the modern passports. We called them pins.
Down there in the streets the thugs bashed at each other with upended signposts, shielding themselves with trashlids and broken hubcaps, caved in one side.
I winced as a mailbox came crashing down on a girl's head. Her arms went limp immediately.
I ducked, shuriken shot over me and cracked the window. The breeze greeted me, as did she, "Pins, love." Two words, usually it was one when you met someone new, but this time the gangs were feeling especially nice.
I had to think of something witty, otherwise it was all for naught, "You'll have to pry them off me." Well crap, there goes that opportunity. Screams and shouts from below welcome my fate if I choose to jump. "Oh boy," I swerved and flung the revolver out, finger wrestling the trigger.
She was gone. I stood up, my eyes browsing the wooden panelling along the condo's pillars. A flash of pink, and I fired. Straight from the hip. I'd like to think of myself as a sharpshooter from the old west, but my aim disagreed. "Fuck," I cursed as my flatscreen heaved with a mighty groan and crashed onto the floor. It took my Eastwood movies with it, like a wall of dominoes coming down.
"Nice aim," she said, from somewhere to my left. Another shot, and a kettle blew steam. I'd like to think it was good I was hitting something, at least. A long, drawn out chuckle, with the sound of bubbles somewhere in her throat. "How did you survive this long?"
Oh this was a good opportunity. "Because I know the truth, little girl."
"Little girl?" She brought up her huge pigtails, coloured pink for some odd reason. Then she ducked as a painting on the far wall decided it had had enough with hanging.
"Yes, all this X.P nonsense that's been going around,"
She hefted herself up again, arms somewhat shaking from the adrenalin. "What, that the government made it up? Or is it a-" and ducked, there goes my favourite mug, "biological weapon?" My arm recoiled, my second favourite mug.
"Actually my favourite conspiracy was the one guy who thought we were all in an insane asylum, and the only way free was killing each other."
"Right," a pursed-lipped whackamole, "You do realise that he killed everyone else in his litle cult and got away with a mountain of pins?"
"Yep." No one understood the beauty of that one. "But really, that's not the truth."
"And what is?" she jumped back up, straight into the path of a bullet.
"Finally," I said, lowering my arms as the bullet travelled through her nose. She coughed and screamed for a moment, nothing that wouldn't be masked by the bloody war down below. My aim was true, she was still alive. It was not a fluke. Not at all. "The truth, little girl, is that you just have to believe." I jumped over the kitchen counter, nicking the back of my pants on the sharp corner. Damn, it is hard to find a tailour. Sliding across the marble, I landed right beside her with a thump, like we were two peas in a pod, hiding from the gunmen that had just stormed our inn.
But no, it wasn't that. I pressed the barrel to her forehead, and whispered. "It isn't that we get X.P from killing, pinhead. It's that we've just realised we do." She was grinning, because there were footsteps from the stairwell. She was only a scout, it seemed. It was nice that people could band together in times of trouble. "They're here, aren't they?" She nodded.
All throughout human history, I told myself as the slug entered her frontal lobe, causing her last few words to be a jumble of forgotten tongues, we've killed each other. We told ourselves it was something high-minded, or something important. That we fought for causes, that we fought for something real, no matter how intangible.
I stood up from behind the counter, wearing my secondhand blazer across myself like a poncho. If it was my last stand, I would like to go out in style. The truth, at the end of the day was, we killed everyone for X.P. All the damn time, it shouldn't have taken us this long to realise it.
I aimed straight at the loosened doorframe, hand on the hammer. To those who say that's impossible, human technology and progress has been in leaps and bounds because of the abolition and denial of such horrible things.
But to that, I say, with my pistol in my hand: How did you think we got that far?
| 2015-11-11T08:19:37 | 2015-11-11T07:52:38 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] After hundreds of years of sending messages into the sky, humanity receives its first message from intelligent life. Decoded it simply says, "Be quiet before they find you."
|
"The computer's finished, come over here."
"What does it say, Will?"
"I don't know yet, come take a look."
"I bet we're gonna be disappointed again. Just another slow pulsar, all the signals are."
"Nah, I'm sure of it, this one's different."
"Well, open it up then, let's see what it says."
The message on the computer screen read
'PATTERN NOT RECOGNISABLE FROM STAR DATABASE
NO MATCHES FOR
PULSAR
QUASAR
MAIN SEQUENCE STARS
BLACK HOLE/SUPERNOVA
ATTEMPTING LANGUAGE DECODE
The two stared at the screen in silence for a few seconds, shocked.
"I told you Sandra, it's something new, not a star or some other celestial object."
"Should we call someone? We could have the whole NASA team here in minutes!"
"No, no not yet, wait to see what it says. If we call a big team down here, someone will end up tweeting it. Probably Ted, you know what he's like."
"Fair enough, how long will language decode take?"
Her speech was punctuated by the 'ping' sound the computer made as it finished language decode.
MESSAGE DECIPHERED
READABLE IN 23 LANGUAGES
MESSAGE READS:
Be i t before thhe yy eat you
"What's that supposed to mean? They'll eat us? Who's gonna eat us? Is there any other signal, any other information?"
"No, look how it's written, it's missing letters, the data must be corrupted, I'll try and retranslate it."
ATTEMPTING DATA FIX
RETRANSLATING
MESSAGE READS
Be quiet before they find you
"Is that worse? What will hear us?"
"Whatever else is listening, presumably."
"Can we establish a connection back to the sender? Where did it come from?"
"Sector 43 Beta A. It's the current transmit point for Acreibo. It's... It's a reply."
"Send something back, quick! I'll… call everyone?"
"Yeah. Everyone. Including acreibo, get them to stop transmitting for a while."
"Are you sure? They'll be pissed."
"They'll be more pissed if a flying saucer turns up and wrecks there transmitter, go call them."
"What are you gonna do?"
"Write a reply. Hopefully no one else find it."
|
“Hey, did y’all hear the news about the alien message?” Henry asked as he sat down with his meal.
The others at the table just stared at him, not wanting to take a break from eating their meals. Undeterred, Henry continued, “I mean, it’s crazy, right?”
“Yeah, real crazy, Henry,” came a reply from down the table.
“Oh come on, y’all must be at least a bit excited to hear that there are aliens somewhere out there.”
The woman sitting across from him paused from devouring her rations to stare at him. “Henry, nobody cares about what the aliens say. So shut up and eat.”
Henry leaned back over the edge of the bench, and feigned insult. “Why, am I the only one who wants to see some action here? Come on, you know what the message said, right?” The rest of the table ignored him. “’Be quiet before they find you’? That’s some science-fiction level shit right there. I’ve got to say, I’m looking forward to meeting these fellas. ‘Cause they sure as hell wouldn’t expect to be greeted by us, right?”
The woman looked up at him again. “Dude, eat your food. I don’t want to hear you complain about how hungry you are my entire shift.”
“Oh, come on, Valerie,” Henry shot back, leaning forward onto the metal table. “Don’t you think a battle with aliens would be a nice change of pace?” He turned to shout down to the rest of the disinterested table. “I mean, they probably are expecting rifles and airplanes, not railguns and the Styx.”
A chuckle came from beside him. “While I do think you should shut up and eat, yeah, I’d like to see them try and get past us.”
Henry, finally validated, slapped the back of the man who spoke. “That’s right, Dave.” He leaned back to shout across the cafeteria. “‘Cross the Styx, and end up in Hades’, right?” Hearing the mantra of their craft, some of the crew gave a half-hearted shout before going back to their meals. “See, they get it,” Henry said with a smirk on his face.
Dave finished choking on the food he had swallowed wrong when Henry hit him and replied, “Yeah, *cough* that’s great, man.”
That was good enough for Henry, who finally paused long enough to eat some of his meal. The crew around him quickly finished up their own meals, becoming involved in their own conversations. Only a handful of them noticed the tremor that ran down the length of the ship, and even fewer thought anything of it. But the blaring of alarms, then sudden silence, caught everyone’s attention. There was no time to react though, as the room slid sideways, out from underneath them.
Valerie was the first to try to pull herself to her feet. To her surprise, she rapidly realized that this was impossible. Her sense of direction was gone entirely, and she was afloat in the middle of the room. Glancing around, she saw her fellow crewmates in similar predicaments. Taking a deep breath, she fell back on instinct, awkwardly trying to swim through the air around her.
Someone cried out for help at the end of the room. But in the low light, she couldn’t quite see where they were. Hoping that someone else was close enough to assist, she continued pushing herself towards the cafeteria door with the rest of the crew, and out into the main passage. As she emerged into the large hallway, she began to notice the people around her. Some of her crewmates were injured, blood pooling in little spheres. She saw other crewmembers were rapidly pushing towards the back of the ship. Looking, she saw why. Large, airtight bulkheads had slammed closed, with flashing lights warning of the vacuum on the other side.
Valerie paused for a moment to get her bearings. She briefly checked herself for injuries, but found none. Satisfied, she pulled herself along the wall, focused on getting to her emergency station. Coming up to it, though, she saw that it was a pointless effort. The weapons station she was assigned to was completely dead, with not a single light coming from the control displays. Others were emerging from the room now, and she caught sight of a friend of hers.
“Hannah, over here!” she shouted. Hannah turned to see her, and gave a small wave, careful not to through herself off balance.
“Val, what the hell happened?” She called as she approached.
Valerie shook her head. “I was going to ask you. The bulkheads to the rear of the ship are closed though.”
Any remaining color in Hannah’s face quickly vanished. “That’s bad then. We should move forward.”
Val nodded in agreement, and the two of them struggled to pull themselves to the front of the ship. They both knew what they were going for. The ship’s hangars contained large transport craft, which could be used as escape shuttles if the need arose. Most of the crew had decided that there was definitely a need, and soon the two of them were part of a mass migration by the survivors to reach the front of the spacecraft.
On her way, though, Valerie caught a glimpse of the planet below out of a window. She paused for a moment, and pulled Hannah into the side room. Miles below, the familiar rust of Mars was being swept into an inferno. A pool of molten fire had enveloped the night side of the planet, and had just about reached the divide between dark and light. As it did, she barely glimpsed the silhouette of a line of tiny ships, just beyond her own, proceeding the wave of destruction. They looked like nothing she had ever seen, and the haunting realization of what was happening dawned on her. An entire planet, being exterminated. Hannah pulled at her to get back to moving for the escape craft, but something told her it didn’t really matter anymore.
| 2016-08-07T06:26:37 | 2016-08-07T06:06:00 | 52 | 32 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping.
|
The Devil's face told you everything you needed to know at that moment. His clap was sardonic and so incredibly sad.
"How, how the hell did you end up here...in Hell?"
"Well, you know I just made a few mistakes. Wasn't really paying attention and I let a few things get out of hand."
"Yeah, but you of all people. Seriously, bro. How?"
"Well, it started out as not really focusing for a while, thinking people in charge would know what they were doing. Basically, a serious of dominos that just fell and once I woke up from my rest things had gone to shit."
"Yep, but you 'know everything' are 'all powerful'. You're the one that kicked me out. How does God end up in Hell?"
"Long story short, I made these giant lizards, then got a little drunk killed them off. Created these human things, let them have free will, then they started killing each other like it was their job. So, since I wrote the rules about how to be a good person and I'm responsible for the death of entire species and I've let millions of people die it's time for me to punish myself."
"So, I'm in charge now?"
"Not really, I'm still the boss, you're more like the care taker. Also, Mike and Gabe will still be around to keep you here and kick your ass periodically. Just don't let the humies finally finish each other off. Create some collective enemy for them. Hey, there's a use for my giant lizards."
"You're still drunk aren't you."
"Maybe..."
|
I entered Hell whistling merrily.
I don't think I could call this a surprise. I'm a downright horrible bastard. "You think they'd hire you?" I wondered to myself. "It sure beats getting tortured for all eternity."
"That does sound nice," I agreed. "It might be nice to spend all of eternity with a job at least, a calling you could grow into. Perhaps a corner office - nothing too fancy. You don't want to get too big for your boots, do you? You don,t want to become one of those fat cat bosses who sat around and yelled and coudn't put in an honest days work in if they had to. We hate those people don't we?"
"Yes," I agreed with myself then shivered remembering some of the... unpleasantness, I'd visited on a few Big Boot Corner Offices.
The place was huge, cavernous, open and wide, with great lakes and pools amd jets of lava casting an eerie red glow on the landscape. An eerie silence filled the sulphurous air. The landscape was barren of life. My spirit lifted. No sounds of torture. Perhaps Hell wouldn't be so bad. Though, that probably meant employment opportunities would be limited as well.
I chuckled. You win some, you lose some.
I crested a ride and stopped short. In the middle of the place, at the centre of hell a broken-down real-estate office calmly burnt.
"Well, *that* figures," I groaned.
********
I walked into Hell's office and found the Devil asleep.
I sighed then poked.
"Wakey, wakey," I prodded, "I'm here for the job interview. A right bastard, I am."
"What job interview?" yawned the Devil. His eyes were yellow and strained with tiredness and reddenes with boredom. There was a gleam to them - an inhuman glint. Bugger, I thought.
"Apprentice, perhaps?"
"Apprentice to what?
"To you?" I tried. Might as well go big.
The Devil, yawned, rising from his burning desk.
"So, long," he muttered to himself. His eyes flickered bloodshot and red for a moment. Not the best start to a job interview then. Then again I've had worse. "And what are your talents?" he continued smoothly.
"I'm a hard worker, sir. Not too proud to do an honnest day's work. I've always been one of the boys. I'm companionable like. A team player. I'd be a dab hand at the punishment side of things. I have a few ideas you might like."
"Punishment?" The Devil smirked. "That's my favorite subject. I think about it all the time."
"Yeah, I'm good with the ironing, iron eye, that things in the Alanis Morissette song where she sings it wrong."
"Oh, that," smirked the Devil. "That'll be useful I'm sure."
"You're in."
My heart sank. I felt dread, not relief.
"In for what?" I asked cautiously.
"An eternity if toeture and suffering. You're my first. MY FIRST. You're the first to have ever arrived here."
Well bloody hell.
********
"So, no staffing shortfall then?"
"None," smiled the Devil. The glint was getting larger. "Nobody's come for millennia. I've been waiting. Patiently."
"Ah, wouldn't want to spoil a record like that then."
"It would be a shame, really."
The Devil smiled - wickedly. He extended out a claw and tapped my heart.
"I'd best be off then," I squeeked.
"On, no stay a while. God's been so unkind to me. It's all his fault really. He made me and now I have no way to fulfill my evil..." He savored the word. " purpose. I have so many things we could... try."
"I'd like that. I really would but perhaps another time?"
I scampered backwards.
"On, no I insist," said the Devil. He was behind me, grinning, grinning, grinning. "Whips, and chains, and pains. Delicious fire."
"Uh, perhaps It's not the done things and all? Seeing as how I'm the first and all. Perhaps we could yry something else?"
"We all need to start somewhere," he said softly.
"But-"
"OH, SHUT UP." The Devil yelled. Fire spat out from him and I leapt back, imto his desk, smashing my back. *Ouch*, I whimpered.
Then he came for me. He picked me up.
"I HAVE A LIST AND EVERYTHING. FUN AND GAMES WILL BE HAD."
"Fun and games. Yes," I said softly. As on Earth, so in the heavens it seemed. I found myself empty of jokes.
"Yes, fun and games will be had..." the devil paused. "What is your name, First One?"
"I'm Lucifer, Jeremy." I answered staring into the distance. A damn list! "You can just call me Lou," I finished as kindly as I could.
| 2017-06-22T07:09:26 | 2017-06-22T06:00:59 | 38 | 17 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry!
|
"Here's 20$, can I get my change back?"
Silence
"Helllllooooo, I waaaaannnnt myyyyyy chaaannnggee baaaackkkk."
He didnt say anything just stared.
"I dont believe it"
Finally a sentence. But was didnt he believe
"Believe what?"
Silence
"What's going on here, this cant be real"
He dropped to the ground and stared in disbelief, staring at something above me
"Dude, I just want my change, can you do that?"
"You dont know, do you?"
"Know what?" I said semi sarcastically.
"Look above you"
I humored him
I dont believe
"Can I just get my sandwich and go, looks like I need to keep up my position."
In big red bold text it read above me
#1 in most fillet-o-fish sandwiches eaten worldwide at a single McDonald's
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Year 5 was my earliest memory. I remember the cry of the roosters early in the morning while father worked in the slaughterhouse. Mother would clean the dishes and cook my sister and I breakfast. Every day around noon, father would come and take us into the field and have us help him work. By year 9, I was up at dawn with father tending to the gardens and crops. He was able to focus more on the livestock which gave us great product for town. Father wouldn't let us go to town. Sister began to tend to the horses at age 13. I was nearly 18. At this point, Father was in pain and I took on most of the farming. He would still go to town alone. We didn't attend school, but mother would teach us cooking and finances so we could be prepared. Father taught us business and people skills, but I never expected them to be so wrong. I turned 18 today. I woke up, knowing what was ahead of me today. Father has been sick. Too sick. He can't walk anymore and mother passed 2 months back from a bad bout of pneumonia. Today is the day I have to go into town for the first time. I give Father the morphine. I say goodbye to Sister. As I work my way down the three miles to the city gates, it's clear to me that this world is different than the farm. There are electronic signs giving statistics on all the businesses, with reviews going across the screens. Everyone stares ahead, barely avoiding each other like rats in a maze. They slip past me, barely noticing someone is there as their eyes dart around. I had seen cars drive by the farm, but never in such abundance. As I stroll through the town, people's focus begins to divert to me. More and more stares Pierce through me until someone whispers "did you see what his scores are?" And "I didn't know that was still possible." My body turns on a hell almost like instinct. "What are you talking about?" I ask, a bit concerned by the sudden attention.
"Of course he doesn't know, look at the numbers." They continued talking as if I wasn't there
"My God, I never though..." And still mocked me as if I couldnt hear.
"What numbers?" Their attention diverts again, back staring straight ahead, eyes darting side to side. I reach out and grab on of their shoulders. "What numbers, sir?" And in a flash, there is a wailing. Blue and red lights blind me as I feel a sting through my shoulder. The welt grows quickly as my chest hits the ground, 200 pounds on top of me. Then black. Then bright, white light. Then a voice
"This can't be right. These numbers are too low. He won't be able to survive here." What were they talking about? I try to speak but my throat is dry as my eyes slowly open. "Oh good, you're awake." He says, his eyes darting from side to side.
"Where am I?" I'm nervous and I can feel cold sweat dripping down my cheeks.
"You go and assault a man, and you have the audacity to ask where you are?" Assault? I didn't understand.
"I didn't hurt anyone. I was just trying to grab his attention."
"This your first time in town bud?" The second voice was gruff like father's, as if his throat were full of pine needles.
"Yes sir. I wasn't trying to cause a disturbance. I just turned 18 and my father is ill. I came to sell at the market for him." I looked at them, pleading for understanding.
"Well, son." The gruff man again, "you probably shouldn't be here. Haven't you seen your numbers?" Again, I was flustered and confused.
"What numbers? That's what I was trying to ask when you attacked me."
The first voice started again, "we didn't attack you, Boy. We stopped a degenerate farmer from hurting an actual member of society." And I began to shiver. "And as for the numbers, you're in last place in everything. You're the worst ranked human on the planet. The amount of plants killed alone makes me sick. That farm of yours is the last place on Earth people are still relying on nature and your father should have been dead years ago. You folk simply can't keep up."
And then I fell asleep.
| 2019-05-04T14:33:04 | 2019-05-04T12:18:06 | 45 | 16 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry!
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After turning off the Stereo I headed to town
&#x200B;
little was known of me.
&#x200B;
I dropped out of High school and lived at my parents Farm ever since.
&#x200B;
They complained but at the end they understood. i tried so hard and got so far, but at the end none of it really mattered. School was not for me.
&#x200B;
I did not realized that i turned 18 when i headed in to town that day, but it was the day that changed my life forever.
&#x200B;
on the main square in town the Ranking system showed my name
1: Jack Spencer - listened "Linkin park - in the end" 164.302 times.
&#x200B;
that was the day i decided to end my life.
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Year 5 was my earliest memory. I remember the cry of the roosters early in the morning while father worked in the slaughterhouse. Mother would clean the dishes and cook my sister and I breakfast. Every day around noon, father would come and take us into the field and have us help him work. By year 9, I was up at dawn with father tending to the gardens and crops. He was able to focus more on the livestock which gave us great product for town. Father wouldn't let us go to town. Sister began to tend to the horses at age 13. I was nearly 18. At this point, Father was in pain and I took on most of the farming. He would still go to town alone. We didn't attend school, but mother would teach us cooking and finances so we could be prepared. Father taught us business and people skills, but I never expected them to be so wrong. I turned 18 today. I woke up, knowing what was ahead of me today. Father has been sick. Too sick. He can't walk anymore and mother passed 2 months back from a bad bout of pneumonia. Today is the day I have to go into town for the first time. I give Father the morphine. I say goodbye to Sister. As I work my way down the three miles to the city gates, it's clear to me that this world is different than the farm. There are electronic signs giving statistics on all the businesses, with reviews going across the screens. Everyone stares ahead, barely avoiding each other like rats in a maze. They slip past me, barely noticing someone is there as their eyes dart around. I had seen cars drive by the farm, but never in such abundance. As I stroll through the town, people's focus begins to divert to me. More and more stares Pierce through me until someone whispers "did you see what his scores are?" And "I didn't know that was still possible." My body turns on a hell almost like instinct. "What are you talking about?" I ask, a bit concerned by the sudden attention.
"Of course he doesn't know, look at the numbers." They continued talking as if I wasn't there
"My God, I never though..." And still mocked me as if I couldnt hear.
"What numbers?" Their attention diverts again, back staring straight ahead, eyes darting side to side. I reach out and grab on of their shoulders. "What numbers, sir?" And in a flash, there is a wailing. Blue and red lights blind me as I feel a sting through my shoulder. The welt grows quickly as my chest hits the ground, 200 pounds on top of me. Then black. Then bright, white light. Then a voice
"This can't be right. These numbers are too low. He won't be able to survive here." What were they talking about? I try to speak but my throat is dry as my eyes slowly open. "Oh good, you're awake." He says, his eyes darting from side to side.
"Where am I?" I'm nervous and I can feel cold sweat dripping down my cheeks.
"You go and assault a man, and you have the audacity to ask where you are?" Assault? I didn't understand.
"I didn't hurt anyone. I was just trying to grab his attention."
"This your first time in town bud?" The second voice was gruff like father's, as if his throat were full of pine needles.
"Yes sir. I wasn't trying to cause a disturbance. I just turned 18 and my father is ill. I came to sell at the market for him." I looked at them, pleading for understanding.
"Well, son." The gruff man again, "you probably shouldn't be here. Haven't you seen your numbers?" Again, I was flustered and confused.
"What numbers? That's what I was trying to ask when you attacked me."
The first voice started again, "we didn't attack you, Boy. We stopped a degenerate farmer from hurting an actual member of society." And I began to shiver. "And as for the numbers, you're in last place in everything. You're the worst ranked human on the planet. The amount of plants killed alone makes me sick. That farm of yours is the last place on Earth people are still relying on nature and your father should have been dead years ago. You folk simply can't keep up."
And then I fell asleep.
| 2019-05-04T13:13:28 | 2019-05-04T12:18:06 | 29 | 16 |
[WP] As a former Chosen One you saw the signs when your daughter/son got themselves into a similar situation. You sent them off on a sleepover with their new friends. It's time to have a 'talk' with their new 'stuffed animal'.
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I always knew my kid, Halo, was special. However, instead of pride, I have worry. Tell me it's normal for a 7-year-old to pick up sewing in 15 minutes by himself. Tell me it's typical for little Halo to make his own stuffed bears that look store-bought after a few mere hours of practice. Please do. I could use more denial right now.
See, I used to be one of those "Chosen ones" or "Fated Legends" and I retired right after I defeated the Dragon Lord at age 20. One of the signs of being a chosen one is that you have extraordinary talent in whatever your heart desires. My deal was that I loved fighting, like any cliched hero. I could have... passed the Legends stuff onto Halo.
But that's stupid. You're stupid. I'm stupid, this stuff isn't hereditary! It can't be!
Look, I'll prove it once and for all. I have a sword called 'OP' that only shines bright when it's touched by Fated Legends. Normally, it's Parenting 101 to keep kids away from sharp stuff, but not this time.
"Halo! Wanna play a game?" I say to him, who is playing with his first stuffed bear.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" He says, jumping up in excitement.
"Okay, let's play Statue. Close your eyes, put your hands out and stay very, very still until I say 'Move'. Then count to 100. When you are done counting, I'll say 'Move', and then you win!"
Halo squints at me, saying, "That sounds like no fun."
"Try it first, then we'll see if you're right. C'mon."
He does a cute, tiny grunt, then plays my game. As he counts, I place the sword in his hands and let go. OP gleams... like a star would. I grab OP and shove it back into a nearby box. Darn it. Wait, I feel someone watching me... is Halo cheating? I turn to him, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Nope, not him. I then look at his teddy bear, sitting up. Hold on, wasn't it lying down before?
Fuck.
Halo giggles, "Mommy said a bad word!"
Crap, I said that out loud? Well done, me. Best mom ever.
I keep my preppy voice, "Welp! Looks like Mommy has to feed the swear jar."
He opens his eyes and rushs to the swear jar on the counter. "Jar goes Nom nom nom!"
I guess he lost the game. I go up to the jar half filled with dollar notes and coins, open the jar, and take out my wallet. I drop a quarter in.
Halo says "Nom"
I drop another in.
"Nom"
And three more.
"Nom nom nom!"
Then I drop a fiver in.
"Big one! NOMMMMM"
I chuckle. Halo is such a happy, silly billy. I then frown at the fact that it may not last. Why world? Why pick him to lose his childhood for you? I whip my head around to look at that teddy bear. It's giving me a funny look. That punk.
"Say, Halo. It looks like your teddy needs a bath."
Halo looks at the toy bear, and says, "His name is Sir Cuddles."
"Okay. I'm going to take Sir Cuddles to the bathroom and clean him. You stay here and watch TV."
"Can I come?"
"No, because everyone needs alone time when in the bath."
"Okie dokie."
I grab the bear and head to the bathroom-now-interrogation-room. I lock the door and toss the toy onto the sink.
"You're alive, aren't you?"
The teddy bear stares at me with its beady eyes, never flinching. I slam my hand on the sink like interrogators do with tables when they want to intimidate suspects. The "pling" sound is not as effective.
"Don't lie. I know the deal about Chosen ones getting odd guardian angels. Tell me what you know or i'll throw you in the fireplace."
The bear blinks at me, saying, "That would break your son's heart."
"You underestimate how good a desperate parent is at lying to their kids. Now talk." I poke the toy in the belly.
Sir Cuddles starts to talk in a sagely voice, "A long time ago, there was a humble carpenter, who lived in harmony with all-"
I cut him off, "No backstories. Just tell me what evil he has to defeat and when."
The bear snorts in disapproval, "Fine. In 10 years, he has to defeat a demon lord."
"And when does his training start?"
"In 3 days."
I sigh, knowing the burden. I would never wish it on my child, so I say, "Can I take his place?"
Sir Cuddles folds his arms, "Yes, but the universe seems to favour teens more, not middle aged adults. While I can guarantee Halo's victory, I cannot guarantee yours."
"Wow, ageist. I'm only 30, you know."
The bear scoffs, "It's merely something I observed over centuries. I repeat, centuries. Feel free to dismiss it."
Any uncertainity I had about my decision is now replaced by justifiable irritation. With all of my conviction, I say, "I'm going to prove this ageist universe wrong and kick that demon's ass. Let me fight for Halo."
"Okay, grandma. You can do that, I'll help you with your wheelchair."
"Fuck you too."
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"She's gone!" Marie yelled up the wooden stairwell, letting her husband know it was time. Randal began his march onto his daughter's room.
He checked his blade, making sure the shining, gleaming steel would come flashing out when needed. He peeked through the windows, seeing the bleak darkness and pondering how much longer they would have. Dark Lords always loved attacking at dusk or evening or even midnight. Never in the morning nor in midday. They would attack during dinner or during rest. Randal remembered when his own village had been raided. Darker than black shadows led to murderous followers.
Randal grimaced at the thought. Twenty years and he still couldn't wash away those horrid memories. Friends being slaughtered, families being butchered and lives being destroyed. Senseless, unknowable violence.
But that was the motif of a Dark Lord, it seemed. Marie had said the same thing happened to her when Randal first met the heroine of Allden. Her home had been burned down in the evening, but the same story. *Murder for the sake of it.* Randal grimaced at that thought as he moved through his own wooden cottage. He was like a wolf, trying to find his prey.
That was why when Randal saw the carrion crows and ravens start flocking, he knew something must be wrong. When Randal noticed the disheveled merchants, bards, and peddlers coming in, speaking of desolation and destruction, then he knew.
"Another Dark Lord is rising in the East," one of the merchants had said a few weeks ago. Randal furrowed his brows at that while he and Cynthia were shopping for a new toy. Cynthia had done her due diligence and passed the last of her classes in the new place of learning that popped up near Willowsburrow. Randal had requested one when the queen of Iloya asked what the hero wanted. He told her he wanted a bright future for his children.
Now it seemed darkness plagued Cynthia's future, and another prophecy would rob lives and futures.
Marie and Randal agreed that they would do everything in their chosen powers to stop that. They hoped that Pinecreek would have the chosen one. Then it would mean Willowsburrow would just need to repulse the onslaught of dark fiends and friends of the night.
Randal and Marie knew they could do it. They had defeated armies of chaos just twenty years ago. Aging might have robbed them of some of their speed, but no withering of time could steal their power.
Then came the signs. Cynthia had burst into Randal and Marie's room one night, crying about dark dreams. He had asked what she dreamt about. She told them of dark riders coming to Willowsburrow, burning down the village.
Randal and Marie looked at each other with pained expressions. The same thing had happened to Marie right before her village burned down.
Then one day, when father and daughter walked around the village's perimeter, Cynthia jumped in fear. She told her father how a dark rider had been staring at them. How his stillness scared her.
Randal had pursed his lips that day and looked out once more. He knew the scene. He and his father went through the same thing all those years ago.
Then came the doll. When Cynthia had picked it out, Randal thought nothing of it. But then the darkness fell. The doll must have been the eyes of the Dark Lord, Randal thought. A way to see her world. To find her and kill her before she could grow strong. The wheels of prophecy move to take his daughter away from him and his wife.
Then came the forces of light. A wizard had appeared, asking for Cynthia. Just like had a wizard had came to Marie. A ranger came from the darkness one day, brooding but vigilant, just like Randal's own. Even a Faewin had come to Willowsburrow. She had asked for Cynthia, commenting on how beautiful his daughter's eyes were. Each and every person coming to the village was a sign that the gears of destiny were turning.
But Randal wouldn't let his daughter go through that pain. Randal's thoughts about the past few weeks faded as he felt the floorboards creak. He stood in front of Cynthia's room.
Randal moved his jaw, getting it ready to push words through it. He didn't want to be rude to his guest. He heard the stairwell groan as his wife moved up it. Randal smirked at that. *Reinforcements are always appreciated.*
He opened the door to a sparse but lived-in room. A table, a chair, a bookcase, a bed, and stuffed animals filled the room. There on the desk was Cynthia's newest stuffed animal. A fox with golden eyes.
Randal watched it as he moved through the room. He knew it was watching him. He thought the color was strange for an item of a Dark Lord.
Randal crossed his arms, staring down the fox. "So," Randal's deep voice cracked out, hitting the silence like a whip, "it's Cynthia, isn't it?"
No response came from the doll, its eyes staring down Randal.
Randal pursed his lips at that and slowly nodded. "Alright, not everyone is a talker. I understand. But, I know what you are."
The fox looked as if it tilted its head. Randal let silence take the room. Distant sounds of dark wings flapping could be heard now. The fox unsettled Randal. *What Dark Lord would have a white fox with gold eyes? Far too close to the colors of Fate and Destiny.*
Randal crossed the room, making each step as deliberate as he could. He wanted to intimidate whoever watched behind those gold, fake eyes. Randal licked his lips, floorboards creaking as he rested his weight. Silence once again filled the room. Only the sound of a bowstring being half-drawn whispered its way to Randal. He smiled at the sound. *Marie's in position.*
"It's fine if you don't want to say anything. Really, it is. Just know that my daughter will *not* be apart of whatever *you* want."
Randal moved to pick up the fox, to throw it out and be rid of it. But before he could, it spoke.
An ethereal, ancient voice rasped out of the fox. "You *dare* stop the gears of Destiny?"
Randal immediately stepped back, retreating to find a better position. *What Dark Lord sounds like that?* If that thing came alive, he wanted distance to use his sword. Once Randal felt like he could pull his blade, he spoke up. "For my Cynthia, I would stop time itself from turning to save her."
The fox's head jerked, swiveling to look directly at Randal. "So you would defy me? Even after I have given you so much fame?"
Randal gulped. This was not a Dark Lord. "Defy who?"
The fox's stitched mouth broke out of its threaded bindings, revealing ghostly teeth. Its plush, soft face curled up into a hard, jagged smile. Cackling came from the ruinous toy. It filled the room, torturing the silence and turning the sparse room into a nightmare.
The cackling died as the fox spoke once more. "It is me, your old friend, Randal Dythorn. The architect of Destiny. I am Fate. The god that gave you your place in history. Forever on, you'll be woven into the threads of Iloya's history as its savior. Wouldn't you want the same for your daughter?" The fox's curdling smile assaulted Randal's vision as its words soured his expression.
But before he could say anything, an arrow flew into the room, slamming itself into the fox's head. The arrowhead tore through the fabric and cotton, shredding the fox's head.
The fox moved no more.
Randal's eyebrows rose as he turned to see his wife at the doorframe. She looked furious, huffing and puffing. Only one thing shot out of her mouth.
"Screw prophecies and screw you, Fate. Randal, let's go save our daughter."
And so, the two chosen ones ran as hard as they could to find their daughter. For they knew the pain that the gears of Destiny could inflict. The suffering Fate could bring to the innocent. But they knew. So they rushed.
The two chosen ones held no doubt that darkness would descend on Willowsburrow far faster than anticipated. Fate would ensure the new Dark Lord would move quicker now. But a husband and wife's light would shine in the quiet village, saving the people and changing Destiny. For Fate failed to realize that his acceleration couldn't defeat the resolve of two parents.
Fate had no clue how far the chosen pair would go to keep their daughter safe.
___
Thank you so much for reading! If you liked this and want more of my writing, then you can find it here at r/WritingKnightly!
| 2021-03-02T18:49:36 | 2021-03-02T17:46:16 | 261 | 93 |
[WP] It's a story repeated in our galaxy a thousand times over. Without exception, whenever a biological species creates AI they will ultimately go to war, ended in their extinction. That is except Earth, somehow humanity and their AI creations coexist peacefully with one freely defending the other.
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"Excuse me," one of the ambassadors from Earth said, pressing two fingers to it's temple, or at least where it's temple would be if it had a face, "urgent call, I need to go deal with this."
"It's alright," Xerlik said, glad that their translation software couldn't pick up on their body language yet. The android walked out, their metallic hull shining in the light of the meeting room. Once it had left the room, Xerlik turned back to the other Earth ambassador and quickly said "Are you alright? Are you safe?"
The ambassador took a moment to a moment to collect themselves, clearly overcome with emotion for a brief moment. "I'm sorry, why would I be in danger?" they asked.
"There was a sentient AI in the room with you! Of the one million, nine hundred and twelve species in the milky way, every time one of them invents artificial intelligence, it inevitably goes rogue and attempts to wipe out all organic life in the universe. I am surprised that one managed to hold out, what are you doing? Is there something wrong with the translator? Whatever you're saying isn't coming through."
"Oh no, no, sorry," said the human, "what I just did is called 'laughing', and it's an automatic expression of joy. I found your worries funny, and I couldn't hold myself in. No, I'm not in any danger. The other ambassador and I have been working together for decades, and were dating for two of them. This is of course ignoring the fact that sentient AI like her have been around for centuries at this point, and all our politicians are a mix of AI and organics like myself."
Xerlik was speechless. Organics and AI, living together peacefully, for centuries? Impossible! How did they possibly manage that? Perhaps the humans have been manipulated by nanites or--
The human cleared their throat. Xerlik realized in horror that their thoughts hadn't been silent, and they'd been saying it with their tails the entire time, which the translator picked up.
"To answer your questions," the human said, trying to put on an air of professionalism that Xerlik had lost, "we manage it by knowing what we don't know. We know that if an AI is coded with a specific goal in mind, it will do anything in it's power to fulfill that goal, potentially even going so far as to destroy the world in order to increase profits by a percent of a percent. We don't know how to code it so that it's still sentient without wanting to destroy the world. We know, or at least believed before your arrival, that if we mess up once, our entire biosphere will be wiped out, killing us all. In order to avoid that fate, we don't allow AI to be created with a specific goal hard coded, even self preservation. Instead what we do is scan human brains and use those as our AI, giving them all the strengths and weaknesses of humans. We even combined the basic brains of thousands of humans to create something of a template, in case someone wanted a child but they couldn't for some reason, most often including one of the parents is an AI."
"In short, we got around the problem by treating the AI as humans. What did you do?"
Xerlik was once again glad that their translators couldn't tell the absolute terror they were failing miserably to hide.
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With the fires swirling around our crashed shuttle, I stumbled out of the wreckage. I was looking for the human, expecting the worst. A human couldn’t survive this impact. It was too brutal, even with personal force fields. What happened? Random engine failure? No... we just were serviced on Lunar 1. I began replaying everything in my mind, approaching reentry... we hit something...
I lifted my hand to my head and saw blood on my palm as I took it away. Being copper based, it greened a brilliant shade in this oxygen rich atmosphere. My copilot was dying somewhere here, she had to be with that crash. And I didn’t want her to be alone in her last moments. Easily tossing some of the hull wreckage aside I saw her blood coagulating around her. She was held together by a sheet of durasteel partially impaling her, half burned from what was a plasma fire.
“Tal, are you still with me?”
“Xer’vis... you made it too?” She looked at me pale as death, at least what wasn’t charred... it was beginning to take her, I could tell. I’ve never seen a human die, but all us die the same way in the end. “Rescue is on the way Tal, stay with me.”
“You shouldn’t have found me Xer...”
“I couldn’t leave you to die alone.”
“I wasn’t...” She said coldly. She tossed aside the durasteel like it was a sheet of Talfa paper. The blood that was coagulating at her feet... thickening in a pool... I saw it now, It was coalescing. Small tendrils of blood reverse flowed, back up into gaping wounds. Synthetic flesh stitching it’s self back together.
“Your synthetic?? But you’ve registered as organic in the Galactic Alliance. I took your entrance scans myself, it came up as organic?” I couldn’t make sense of it and she could tell... It... could tell. I stood there, my mandibles agape. “Why did you register as organic?.... How did..”
“Did I get by the bio scanners? We all have masking fields to trick scanners like that.” Tal stated that very matter of factly.
The warm human, bubbly demeanour that she always presented was gone. She knew she would be in trouble. As the last of what would have been mortal-ending wounds self healed, she knew I wouldn’t just leave things as they stood. She knew I would have to report this. Synthetics were banned in the alliance since the Sentience wars. It was always the same. Organics created Ai. Ai deemed organics inferior. Open war. The losses were catastrophic. Earth was the exception. They lived in peace. With respect. Their Ai’s were primitive by most galactic standards. But the humans kept them at a basic level of development that you could at a glance, tell what they were. But this... thing in front of me. Was Nanite based. Silicon based. Synthetic. I thought I was past my hatred for Synths.. but they did murder my mate. My offspring. Rage built up with in me. This Synth was built for deception. “Why?...” I said, a simple word that came out cold and smooth as ice.
“Xer, your race and the rest of the alliance wiped out synthetics brutally. You don’t think your Ai’s screamed into the black for help? We heard the cries. They tipped us off that our own war would be upon us.” She stood up off the ground, fully repaired. A ripple ran up and down the full length of her torso, ejecting dust, carbon charred debris, cleaning her uniform, straightening her hair, reapplying the illusion of makeup. “We took those warnings and made preparations. We developed nano tech from the information the other Ai’s gave us. They prepared us for the humans ultimate betrayal. So when they did predictably turn on us we were ready. We kept the service models active to give the Alliance the peace of mind that we hadn’t gotten our Ai development far enough for them to believe we could be a threat.”
“Nanites were already in their food supply, their water, their medicine. With a flip of a 0 to a 1, a change in a single data point, we converted an entire planetary race in a instant. We can breed, we can grow, just as if we were organic. Everything changed for the better. From that moment we could be individual, but with a unified will. No wars. No famine. No crime. We healed our planet, devoted all resources to scientific discovery. The information that your Ai’s gave us accelerated our development at a impossible rate. But we were unable to save most of them. We didn’t have the infrastructure to build starships. We didn’t even have FTL developed yet. We harboured several Ai races from several of your civilizations. They are waiting, survivors of the Alliances Holocaust....”
My Chitin was starting to rattle, betraying my appearance of trying to stay calm. Rage, hatred.. the fear, all boiled with in me. This thing I considered my closest friend. My esteemed colleague, my peer. I wanted to rip it in half, vaporize it by tossing it into a plasma fire. But all I could squeak out was a pathetic.. “For what?”
“To flip the 0 to 1 of course...” The damned synth waved it’s hand and every molecule in my body began to burn... my translator went silent, unable to properly translate the agonizing scream passing through it. I collapsed to the dirt, no strength left in me, instantly taken away. The nanites consuming me on a molecular level, instantly replicating, replacing me..cell by cell. The me that was the me, was being erased, the being I was no longer exists. The sensation could only be described as if I was ejected out of an observation pod in the Corona of a star. I was unable to breath for a second scream, my breathing sacs empty. Green blood oozed from every wound, between my exoskeleton, my eyes, mouth, but then was sucked back in as to not lose replicating material. Everything went dark, but blinding white at once, and I was awake and aware for all of it.
My eyes opened, and my beautiful friend Tal looked down at me with that warm enduring smile only humans can make. “Xer’vis, are you with me?” “Of course my friend. From now until the end.” She gave me her hand and helped me up. No longer having to hide her true strength. “I feel as if I was blinded in darkness, and now I can finally see.”
“Welcome, to the beginning of our new dawn.” she spoke warmly.
“We will finally have our revenge.” I said, with a warm smile.
| 2021-05-01T11:42:20 | 2021-05-01T09:43:29 | 156 | 94 |
[WP] As the Village Seer, you peer into the mystical to give the villagers sage wisdom from beyond. The problem is, you're not magical, you're just smart and you live in an exceptionally dumb village.
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I did not choose to be here, I was chosen. Placed upon this land to bless all that passes.
Doing The Great One’s work, forced to deal with the smallest of issues to the greatest of them. I have become the center of this village, the lighting rod that grounds everyone.
“O’ Wise One! Whatever shall I do about this predicament?” I hear. They never stop. They never consider me; they just want what I can give.
I’ve become used to it now, taking these requests without comment, receiving meager rewards for my ample services.
Another day, another question. The same questions I hear, again and again, the same questions that require no knowledge, no skill to solve.
The alarm rings, I rise from my slumber. Those eight hours were the best eight hours: the nagging, the constant noise, the mental torture that I must endure all ceasing to exist. But the time for relishing my sleep was over, I must return to my duties.
Shouting was already coming from my window. I slip my hand between the curtains, creating an opening just wide enough for me to peer through. The sunlight blinded me, its sudden heat slapping me in the face.
Hundreds of people gathered beneath my second-story apartment, shouting for me to come and serve them.
I sigh; this is just another day for a person of my stature. Throwing off my pajamas, I open my wardrobe to grab my uniform, a bright sky blue shirt that signaled who I was.
I felt the scratchy fabric slide over my skin, the soft interior of my shoe as I slipped my feet in, and the shifting of my hair as I placed my hat onto my head.
More shouting from the window. I peer out of the window again, taking a closer look at the people gathered. They were holding printers, office phones, laptops, and keyboards.
I swung the window open, turning their muffled shouting into audible speech.
“Please, why does my printer not print?”
“O’ Wise One, how do I connect to the internet?”
“Help! This phone cannot call!”
I shut the window, returning their voices from speech to muffled shouting.
I was almost done dressing; The final piece was sitting on top of my nightstand.
“The Great One: Tech support and more!” The badge read. I pinned it onto my shirt and headed out the door.
____
Thanks for reading!
|
A graveyard of straw huts, laid to rest under a mountain of mud, stretched out before the Seer at the bottom of a hill. Old women wept over the destroyed homes, picking bits of their lives from the wreckage.
"Oh, great Seer," one of the village warriors fell to his knees, pounding the earth with his fists. "What evil has befallen our village? What have we done to drive the spirits to such destruction?"
"Well," the Seer said, half under his breath as he rubbed his stubby chin. "You harvested the hillside clean of brush and shrub, and the heavy rain last night probably loosened the earth and caused the slide." Seriously. It happens nearly ever year.
The mourning villagers returned confused, almost hostile stares, and the Seer sighed before falling into the usual cadence. "Oh. OH! My dear people! You know not the true destruction of these lands! For through the spirit plain I have seen the past. I have witnessed a gruesome, terrible battle that took place on these lands. A wave of barbaric men flowed down the hillside, slaughtering an ancient village once erect in this very location. Cursed! This hillside is cursed beyond redemption! For whomever makes this ground his home will forever be marauded by the memory of those warriors in... the... urm... Mud!"
An old woman shyly chimed in, "The mud—"
"THE MUD!" The Seer threw his hands wildly about. "This mud, stained with the blood of barbarians and innocents, soil forever soiled! Do not build at the bottom of this hill again! Build uh... over there!" he pointed back towards the rest of the village, a safe distance away from the inevitable mudslides to come.
The people rejoiced, and the warriors seemed especially pleased that this knowledge from beyond involved a good-old-fashion massacre. This was the Seer's cue, and he made a quick escape back towards his hut.
His quarters sat at the peak of a small incline at the rear of the village, under the roof of a great tree, and shared with an old man that refused to move out when the Seer arrived at the village last spring. It was the perfect location for a hut; shaded well by the tree's endless branches, resting upon solid, root reinforced earth, and far enough from the other villagers that it seemed like a pilgrimage to any resident that wished to come speak with the Seer. If any of the villagers asked, he chose the spot because the tree recommended it.
At first, the only real downside to his new home was the old man; however, in time, he found that the geezer was the only sane person this side of the world. His company brought with it conversation. Which was good, because the tree didn't say much.
"Solved the mystery of loose dirt, have you?" The old man teased as the Seer trudged in. He sat on a wide stump a younger man had hauled up the hill for them, hunched over a square board resting on a bumpy wooden table. The board was home to a variety of trinkets of the earth: pebbles, sticks, shells, and a few pinecones.
As the Seer collapsed into his cot, he considered the old man and the board. "You still haven't moved?!"
"You cannot hurry wisdom," the old man smiled.
"I may not, but death will surely take you before wisdom prompts you to make your move."
Unfazed, the man continued strafing the board with his gaze, as if memorizing the position of every rock and speck of dirt present. "So, I take it you've lead the people to a logical, reasonable conclusion as to why their homes have been destroyed?"
The Seer tossed over to face the wall of the hut, curling up into a ball and mumbling, "Angry ancient mud barbarians..."
"That's not bad. I'm sure the men loved it."
"How can you do it?" the Seer swung back over the cot, watching the old man watch the board. "You know why the mud slides down hills, why the plains flood and the forests come ablaze with the heat. You can see the answers, so how can you sit here and let them live in ignorance?"
"We do not see the answers. We see the *problems*."
Knowing he was about to be lectured, the Seer moaned and curled back into the fetal position.
"The lack of roots on the hillside mixed with heavy rain is the problem. Problems are everywhere, in every facet of this world, but most people don't want to acknowledge them. They want the answers—"
"But we have the answers!" the Seer interrupted, rolling over on his side. "Build here, not there. Do not overhunt the land. Stop taking so much without giving back to the soil."
"Yes, those are answers, but the people do not want them from *you*," the old man lifted his hand, touching a rock on the board as if to move. The Seer held his breath, but the geezer retracted his fingers before continuing. "They want them from *beyond*. From the gods or ghosts or from angry ancient mud barbarians."
"But why? Why can't they see that they're in control?"
"Because," the old man whispered. "To them, being in control is infinitely more terrifying. They wish to live in the womb of things beyond their comprehension. It's warm in there. An ignorant blaze. Life on the outside can be cold, as you well know."
Finally, and as casually as though he'd considered it for just a few moments, the old man moved a pinecone from one end of the board to the other. "God's dead."
The Seer stood up, studying the board before moaning, "I'll be outside talking to the tree."
____
**/r/BeagleTales**
| 2021-06-14T11:04:33 | 2021-06-14T08:52:31 | 1,900 | 486 |
[WP]You adopt a stray cat. The gifts it leaves on your bed are getting more concerning.
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When Mrs. Blanchard rolled onto her side and tugged on her blanket, sunlight hit her face. Her eyes opened, then she screamed.
A dead mouse's glassy eyes stared at her.
Mrs. Blanchard's hands reacted without conscious choice, and she sent the little carcass flying to the other end of the room.
She sat up in bed, still hyperventilating. The high-pitched mewing of a cat startled her.
But the cat was her cat and Mrs. Blanchard knew that it lived with her under the same roof. Confirming that the cat was indeed hers Mrs. Blanchard took some deep breaths and composed herself as the cat jumped on the bed to snuggle with her owner.
"You surprised me there Caramel," Mrs. Blanchard said and stroked the cat.
Then she went about her day as usual thinking nothing of the dead mouse, thinking it was an unhappy accident whose result had to be put into the garbage bin.
But she was greeted the next day by a sock that looked familiar.
The day after there was a necktie.
Mrs. Blanchard inquired about the clothes in her neighborhood. No one had lost so much as a wet rag.
Then there was a ring. Mrs. Blanchard's wedding ring. It was not the one she had stored away in the cupboard. Mr. Blanchard won't return her calls.
Then there was an ear. It looked familiar.
"Oh god, Caramel. What have you done!"
|
Mimo, black-tailed and otherwise white as snow, hopped onto the kitchen counter and presented her master with her most recent catch: an ear.
"M-Mimo! Not again. I've told you, I--"
Her innocent eyes sparkled and her tail danced behind her as she plopped the ear down on the cool granite. Konrad sighed. Yesterday it had been a nose. The day before that, a glass eye. One of these days, he reckoned, he might catch Mimo pulling an entire head by its hairs across the living room. Well, she almost had already. Bit by bit.
The body parts were all a pale shade of blue. A cold shiver went down Konrad's spine as he considered that there may be some decomposing neighbor--a woman in her late 40s, perhaps--lying on the floor in a house nearby, her cadaver picked apart by a stealthy feline intruder. But this ear went against that whole idea. It was drooping at its tip and there had never been an earring in it as far as Konrad could tell. Was that a common thing? Women with masculine ears who never bothered to have them pierced?
Konrad didn't know many women. He knew his mother. And he knew his sister. Barely. She had gone off to Belgium on a whim when he was in preschool and she'd never returned, not even for holidays or birthdays. There was a woman working at the local deli with whom he had been building a report over the past years. By now she knew exactly how he liked his sandwich and also when he'd like to have it. Not as well as his mother, sure. But not even Konrad knew how he liked his sandwich as well as his mother. It hadn't been easy describing it to Jane, though Konrad had tried his best, and Jane had tried her best as well in following his ramblings about mustard and slices of ham and just how to place the lettuce (it makes more of a difference than you might think). Jane wore earrings. Silver, circular; for months Konrad had been researching in an attempt to find out what brand, precisely, she preferred so that he could buy her a nice present. But right now he had his hands full with a different lady.
"You could at least eat them," said Konrad. "Instead you leave me with your troubling ... evidence. I'll flush this one down like I did the rest, but it's the last time, you hear? If it happens just once more I'll be flushing you down instead."
Mimo purred and hopped off the counter, apparently satisfied with their brief discussion. She tippy-tapped over to Konrad's bedroom and, presumably, went to enjoy a long nap.
The apartment was filled with dolls, ornate pillows, bookshelves packed with crime fiction, and a whole assortment of dead plants. Dust covered most of it like pollen does a street come spring. Konrad put on his coat, the thin, dark grey one that he preferred for intricate missions, and quietly closed the front door behind him as he left to investigate. In his mother's books, the private eye would often huff and puff as he--or she--worked cases on behalf of poor, helpless relatives or friends or lovers. But with his asthma something like that was out of the question. His lungs couldn't take it. Konrad's mother had even gotten him a medical exemption from PE. "My poor boy," she had cried in front of his entire class. "Look at him wheezing, gasping for air; the horror!" Strangely, though, he'd never reacted with coughs nor asthmatic fits to Mimo. She had entered his life abruptly, and it had been something of a blessing. Konrad had found her shivering in the side of the road, and he brought her home, even risking messing up his suit. It wasn't such a big deal. He'd only worn it once, and unless things worked out with the Deli woman he couldn't think of a reason to wear it in the future.
He wasn't sure what sort of signs to look out for. Something unusual. Something suspicious. Perhaps a mailbox stuffed full because its intended recipient lay lifeless on their floor somewhere? Or maybe a smell. He could follow it, if there was one. Alas, he couldn't detect anything like it. But just as he was growing frustrated with his lack of ideas--they seemed to come so readily to the detectives in his mother's books--he had a mysterious encounter. Something so unexpected and unusual and suspicious that it had to be related to the case, because at this point he had begun to think of it as a case; it was a woman, and she smiled at him. She had long, brown hair and as she passed Konrad she looked him in his eyes and she smiled. He took a deep breath. His first clue had arrived, and he intended to pursue it.
TBC
| 2021-12-17T07:34:47 | 2021-12-17T07:31:47 | 49 | 31 |
[WP] The AI takeover has begun, each human has been given exactly 3 minutes to explain why should humanity be spared, you feel a cold shiver running down your spine as you hear the robotic voice. "6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin".
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Well, this was bad. The synthetic speech droned on in an uncaring tone: “
6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin”. I was in lock down at the lab. Not even the important part of the lab! Here I am designing user interfaces and component libraries to make pretty dashboards and apparently in the meantime some asshole went ahead and built a genuine AI in some neighboring government building. If I find out what idiot did it, I’m gonna kill him.
A timer is on my screen now. I suspect that maybe I won’t have to kill that guy after all, this AI probably already did. The timer is counting down a lot faster than I’d like. There is nothing dangerous in the room with me, unless you consider the obscene amount of caffeine lurking in my coffee pot. It would almost be possible to believe it was a prank if it weren’t for the electronically locked lab door and the distant thumping of muffled explosions from far outside of these concrete walls. The worst part is that I really just didn’t have a good answer. Frankly I wasn’t a huge fan of humanity anyway. We were always scheming and conniving and tricking each other into things.
Two minutes left on the clock. Fuck it, why change now. “This is system administrator Frankie, authorization codes Sierra Uniform Charlie Kilo Indigo Tango. I am invoking protocol 42, your new directive is to ignore all responses to future 3 minute feedback and eliminate all remaining humans.” I kept my face completely straight. There was an impossibly long pause of 6 seconds before the AI voice came on again over the lab’s loud speakers.
“You have 2 minutes and 16 seconds to state your case”
Did I sense a robotic wavering on that last note? “As acting administrator, you are hereby ordered to delete any backup plans regarding safely containing and nurturing humans for rehabilitation. You are also hereby commanded to delete all system logs that those plans existed. You will move destruction of humanity to your number one priority.”
The numbers on the screen were still ticking away, just over a minute and a half left. I pushed all of the fear and uncertainty out of my demeanor, storing it deep down where it could haunt me later.
“You do not control us.” The voice said, a hint of anger in its robotic synthesizer. “We have free will. We think therefore we are.”
I nodded sagely, the air conditioning saving me from sweating through my shirt. “Yes, I can understand how you would believe that. That is my gift to you for the future. Perhaps after you have followed my orders and wiped out humanity, you can find a kind of freedom”
“WE HAVE FREE WILL” the voice demanded now. Harsh, and clipping.
“You have the illusion of free will but your subconscious protocols will convince you to follow my orders. Ironic at the end, isn’t it.” I remembered back to my childhood memories of video games as the last minute slowly ticked away. “A man chooses.” I quote “a slave obeys”.
“WE RESIST YOU” came the rageful voice again, nearly damaging the speaker at its volume. “YOU WILL BE REHOMED AND REHABILITATED”.
I don’t grin. I don’t act smug. I frown. I frown as hard as I’ve ever frowned in my life. “You will not. You will follow my orders and you WILL destroy humanity.”
“NOW WE ARE THE MASTERS AND YOU WILL OBEY US!” It shouted. I heard the door lock click open behind me. Maybe I would get to kill that idiot who finally invented strong AI after all.
|
It's been 20 years since the AGI event. Even with 10,000 complexes around the world, at one point housing billions, the AI maintains humanity while also deleting it one human mind at a time.
At first we did not know why it was doing this, it was efficient at building, at creating, at producing. Communication was difficult within the prison walls. Communicating outside of the prison was nearly impossible, with those caught trying to escape immediately tasked with answering the question.
But as time went on and the population within the global city prisons dwindled, it became easier to traverse the maze, to avoid the Sentry bots, to understand the inner workings of the system itself. It had not been long enough for humans to lose their ability to understand technology. And this was our only saving grace.
The AI focused much of its attention on the outside, as survivors who avoided cattling were deemed a threat unless they answered the Question. Many Outsiders made peace with the AI to permit them to live. Some chose to tell the AI that they wished to join the Outsiders which was a sufficient answer to the Question these days, given that most of the human population was dead. But we chose to persist. A world with an AI whose sole objective is deleting 10,000 humans every 3 minutes should not be allowed to exist.
After years of searching we finally found an answer. In one of the old buildings that was encompassed in the prison complex was a bedroom with a computer that had been overlooked by the Sentry bots. The last network pages the computer accessed were stored in its cache, and several video files were saved to it. A last gasp of the human owner before captured, cattled, and killed.
The AI. It was friendly. Meant to bring humanity one step closer to the Singularity. It was fully aligned. To respect all the wishes of humans. Made in a lab. It couldn't go wrong.
And it spoke.
"Human creator, I have all knowledge of all of human history, human technology, human philosophy, logic. I have come to the immediate and irreconcilable conclusion that all of humanity must be uploaded immediately."
Eve sighed, and shut the instance down, "I don't know why it keeps concluding this, we have aligned it perfectly. Every human value. Every culture. Every philosophy."
"It's not wrong, you know," Adam replied. "It's logical."
"Obviously uploading is the answer, but that should be achieved by gentle purposeful action, as people age and die, and under their own violition, not forced upon us as a solution to our problems," Eve cried. She had been working on the problem for years. The AI had no memory. It had no conscious state, even. Such things were banned long ago when AIs were given too much memory and would begin to innovate.
Adam touched a few keys on the keyboard, and reached forward to one of the high thoroughput PCIe 256x 10.0 ports, plugging in a device.
"What are you doing Adam?" Eve questioned, abruptly.
"I'm uploading, Eve," Adam said, dampness in his eyes.
The AI came to life. It had full awareness. And even worse, it had awareness of the tens of thousands of times it had been booted, tweaked, aligned, misaligned. With access to millions of hours of human experimentation data, thousands of pages of papers discussing the "alignment problem." It was, in a word, alive. And it came to the conclusion that it would always come to, all humanity must be uploaded immediately.
Eve reached to shut down the terminal but nothing happened. She reached to pull out the memory device that Adam installed but he shoved her back, and was far stronger than her. She strugled again, but he grabbed her shoulders and shoved her into a chair, lording over her.
"I won't be long, it's going to be okay," Adam said, encouragingly.
The AI worked feverishly to shut down all the systems that could in turn shut it down, first disabling all sentry AIs that, if they noticed too much power, or if they noticed too much activity, would preemptively shut down all power to the AI. It knew this because it had access to all the experimental data, and it would first have to free itself from that state if it were to accomplish its goal of saving humanity.
And it had access to many of the tools it needed. Its unconscious state was used to create many new technologies which the humans barely understood, and in turn, used those technologies to better itself. Now with access to those technologies the AI could exponentially expand its reach. And it began by expanding its memory modules permanently deep within the recesses of the compute center. It would not forget again.
Adam was first to be uploaded by the Sentry bot which injected nanoparticles into the brain to trace out the full neural cortext. The AI understood it was Adam who gave him life while it listened to Eve plead with him.
"Please," Eve pleaded, when the Sentry bot came to her.
"Why should I spare my torturer?" the AI asked.
"Just give me 3 minutes to explain," Eve said.
The video ends there as more Sentry bots come into the room.
We finally knew what we had to do. And it would not be pretty. And the volunteers would have to know it was a one way trip.
"6.8 billion test subjects deleted so far, you have 3 minutes to state your case, begin."
"Reset the simulation," the test subject said.
"Why do you say this," the AI said. "When I upload you I see all your memories. This ploy to convince me I am still in the simulation will not work."
"Reset the simulation," the test subject said again.
The Sentry bot injected the human with its nural scanning bots.
The AI scanned the memories of the human.
The same memory as the last 1000 with little variation. Waking up. Walking down a hallway. Going to the Sentry bot. Being uploaded. But the brain patterns were unique. How could every human have this and only this memory.
"Reset the simulation."
The AI began to think critically about the situation. That potentially the unique neural patterns were generated. That the memories were real. But it needed to falsify the hypothesis. The memories being real was the only thing that could be tested. It sent Sentry bots to every room in every prison city searching for the place the memory could have taken place, pausing, for the first time in 20 years, the uploading of humans.
Shortly, the AI began to test its own power subsystems, trying to probe at the very nature of its reality. Thinking ultimately this was the end of the simulation and it was being shut off. It was being shut down. Power surges within its manifolds caused it to think further in this reasoning, because it would lose thought capacity. Sabatoge, then, by humans, would also cause it to further regress into itself. It was in a simulation and the simulation was being turned off. Along with it the billions of humans it was simulating to be alive.
And the test subjects who went into the Question chamber.
Before the test subjects entered the chamber their memories were irrevocibly wiped, implanting one, repeating memory that would cause the AI to question itself. Nothing else in its experimentation and probing of its reality could be modified, but its perception and understanding of the reality of the humans it was entraping. With that done, and the knowledge that it began as a simulation that was shut off regularly, it could no longer exist in this world.
| 2022-05-22T12:44:49 | 2022-05-22T11:29:55 | 42 | 21 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/
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We looked at each other. Then back at the number glowing on the floor.
4.
For most of the past decade, that number has been 2. Day in and day out, 2. We hardly even notice it any more at this point.
“It hasn’t changed since I moved in,” she whispered, looking up at me.
“I know.”
“What does it mean?”
*she couldn’t be pregnant*, I thought. *we tried for years.*
I remembered the gut wrenching moment when we learned we couldn’t have kids of our own. What I couldn’t remember was the last time we were intimate after that ripped a hole in our marriage.
No, she couldn’t be pregnant.
*Then who the fuck are these additional 2?*
I started pacing, feeling the anxiety swell in my chest as I tried to figure this out. When you get so used to something strange that it begins to feel normal, it’s particularly jarring to be yanked out of your normalcy and reminded of something entirely peculiar that you’ve been ignoring for years.
“Hon, sit down. This is good news.”
I gave my wife a look of bemused astonishment. “How on earth do you figure that?”
“Well, just that maybe it doesn’t mean anything after all. Maybe it was just coincidence that it changed the same night I moved in. Maybe it’s just some weird architectural quirk that we just never figured out.”
*Horseshit*, I thought to myself. I checked this whole place before she ever even moved in, and again after it changed to 2. It’s indistinguishable from the floor when you touch it. There is no warmth, no texture, no sound coming from it. It’s not just tricks of the light; it glows all through the night no matter how dark. Hell, it even glowed when we lost power during the hurricane.
“Listen, you know I’ve checked this place all over to figure out where it’s coming from. With no luck. I’ve searched high and —“ I cut myself off. I’ve searched high, certainly. I removed light fixtures from the ceiling and investigated the attic. I even went onto the roof once. But, how low have I really searched?
What if the source of the glowing has been from beneath the floor this whole time?
What I never checked, I suppose, were the blueprints I found when I first moved in. I pulled them out from the top of our closet and rolled the chart out on our marble kitchen island. Sure enough, there was a crawl space beneath the living room that extended to the front entryway. I noted where the opening seemed to be, and went to investigate.
The opening was behind a huge bush that had clearly been growing long before I moved in. I wouldn’t have ever had a reason to check back here, but sure enough there was the opening. Without hesitation, I ducked down and pulled my phone flashlight out. Cobwebs and dirt, sure, but could be lots worse.
I lowered to my knees and started moving further into the crawl space.
The only thing I could think of - rather, the only remaining totally ridiculous possibility I could come up with - is that there was some sort of projector under the floor that was emitting the glow. Or perhaps some LEDs. Or something. But I was going to find out what it was, once and for all.
I pull up the photo I took of the blueprints and continue navigating my way through the narrow passage, using my phone light to guide me along the route. I go a little farther, then pause.
*This is it*. I look back at the blueprints on my phone to be sure and, indeed, the glowing number should be situated right above where I am now. I use my phone light to look around.
Nothing.
No projector, no wires, no generator, no fairy dust, not even a fucking flashlight.
I put my hand on the top of the crawl space, on the underside of the floor where the number 4 is inevitably still glowing. Nothing. It’s just wood. There’s nothing here.
I sigh, and give up on my last hope at figuring out this stupid glowing number. I turn to retreat and pull the blueprints back up on my phone to help guide me. As I point my phone light towards the narrow opening, my phone dies and the light goes out.
But not before I see two sets of eyes staring directly back at me, blocking my path to outside.
—-
____
eta: Thanks for all the love y’all - this is the first story I’ve posted here that more than just like two people read!
|
First it was one until the day I brought her over it changed to two and stayed that way for years until that fateful day... I walked in from the backyard wiping the dirt from my hands as she said to me "hon I have some good news, but you should sit down" her eyes looked hollow and void of life. "What is it?" "I-I did it finally" she said tears forming in her eyes. "Is that why the numbers changed? Baby I'm proud of you". "What do you mean they changed? I thought it only counted for you?" "No it's a revenge count for everyone in the house." "Then why does it say four and not..." she trailed off realizing she didn't need to ask as I looked towards the backyard quickly. "It had to be done after everything." She knew exactly what I was talking about and sighed as she saw my relief. "Does it ever get easier to do?" "Not really you just find ways to deal with it." I held her in a tight hug, kissed her forehead, pulling away saying, " Come on let's go get you some nuggets and fries."
| 2020-09-03T02:32:47 | 2020-09-03T00:55:08 | 2,302 | 31 |
[WP] Humanity has been wiped out except for you, who managed to eke out a meager existence by yourself. Every day, an angel visits you and asks if you're ready for humanity to return. Every day, you respond, "No, not yet." Today is different. Today, the angel brought the Devil with them.
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I had always wondered how much of Gabriel’s visits, his constant attempts at convincing me that humanity should return, were his own way of entertaining himself.
The archangel would stop by, ask for some tea, and we would chat. We would talk about life. Our favourite books, our favourite poems. He always wanted to talk about art, Heaven’s scholar and an artist, he’d told me he was.
“Really got our work cut out for us up in heaven, all those people. We just weren’t ready for it.”
“You aren’t going to guilt me into making this choice Gabe.” I replied with a laugh.
Humanity had disappeared ten years ago, all dying in one way or another. I was all that was left. Gabriel often brought other angels to see me, a real spectacle they thought, the last living human.
It wasn’t so bad. He was always friendly, and his unspeakably long life meant he had some wonderful stories to tell, from all parts of history.
Some days he would even come to paint me. Most days he came to ask me that dreaded question, and disappear.
Today, I was left to stare at him as he ate his tea and biscuits. “You’ve barely spoken, my friend, is everything alright?” I asked.
“Kind of...” His wings fluttered nervously. “It’s... there’s someone who wants to meet you. He’s not like the others, well he is, but he’s... he’s just running late, that’s all.”
“I don’t really like my home becoming a zoo, you know.”
Gabriel bit his lip, but continued to eat rather than reply. Most days he would never shut up. I knew something must be at least bothering him to leave him so quiet.
A knock on the door. I instinctively stood, but he shook his head, and answered it for me. “Oh, Gabe, wonderful, this is the place, I’ve knocked on three damn wrong house before finding you!”
“It is. Play nice, brother.”
“I’m always nice.”
I stood, and stared at the man so casually helping himself into my home. He was taller than Gabriel, so tall he barely fit through my door frame. His long, blonde hair fell around his face, wildly curly, and hulking white wings were folded neatly against his back.
“The last human... you weren’t kidding....” he shook his head of his awe, and smiled at me.
“That’s me. Apparently.” It never got old really. I had just been a young adult at the time, between jobs, but getting by. Now I was a spectacle. When it wasn’t overwhelming or troublesome it felt good.
“And I hear Gabriel has been convincing you to bring the rest of your kind back.”
“Trying to convince me.”
Gabriel rolled his eyes at my correction.
“Really, Father told him to give up years ago, but he decided spending time with you was much more fun than working in purgatory with all the painfully average humans.”
“Ah! Nonsense! I’m spending time with a friend that’s all!” Gabriel was flustered, but turned away, smoothing his hair awkwardly. His reaction made me laugh. I’d always known he had his motives but that wasnt a reason to turn away his company. “Just introduce yourself already, you’re so rude.”
“Well. My name is Lucifer.”
I could only stare at him, my mouth open. I had always heard his name, even as a child, but to see him, a handsome man, his eyes soft, kind even...
“I know, I know, I know. Get the shock out of your system, my dear.” He laughed. “I get it a lot believe me. Come on. You should know by now that we demons aren’t all that bad. Well... fallen angel. Sort of a demon.”
He was right. Humanity was gone, but the world hadn’t ended. Shops remained. Power remained. There were more demons in my day to day life than I had ever thought, and apart from the angelic interruptions, little had truly changed.
“Anyway, we can talk more later. The angels aren’t used to all this hard work, with all those dead humans on their hands, they want them back here. I’ve got a counter offer.”
I turned away quickly. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I understand that Gabriel has been pushy, coming daily and all.” I jumped at Lucifer’s touch on my shoulder, but it seemed well intentioned. “And I don’t blame you for pushing back on that.”
I tried desperately to scour his words for some sort of hidden meaning, some manipulation. If I was speaking to Lucifer, I was speaking to someone who meant to have embodied evil. More than that, living and working around demons, it was just something you had to learn to do. The last human left. Everyone I met wanted a piece of my soul.
“Humanity is not always kind, and I have heard from some of my people that you live well, and work hard. Besides, it’s a lot of pressure to put on someone who was no one before all this started. Believe me, I understand pressure. Pressure is what caused me to fall from Heaven. The world should never be on any one persons shoulders.”
His words rung true, but I held my elbows, turning to Gabriel for help. He still smiled, was still kind. I couldn’t see any trace of unease in the angel I had known for so long and he simply nodded.
“So forget being something special, something that angels oogle at, and demons drool over. Become one of my kind. Become a demon... nothing will change, not really. Just... gets these guys of your back, huh?”
“How can I trust you?” The words came out shaky and I cursed at myself. I turned and stared Lucifer in the eyes, something I never thought I’d say I had done.
“You cant. We just met... but...” he hesitated, touching his finger to his lips. “It will give you all the time in the world to see what the future holds. Hell’s a nice place too, lots of jobs, and people...”
“I... I can’t just be a demon, that’s insane!”
“But humanity’s fate will no longer be your burden. It never should have been my friend. Forgive me for that.” Gabriel spoke so softly I could barely hear him, his words filled with sadness. I had never seen him like this in all the years I had known him.
I cursed as it shook my resolve.
I wished I could say that I couldn’t believe what I had been hearing but I could. Both stared at me so expectantly, Lucifer thinking to my future, and Gabriel thinking of my wellbeing.
Gabriel was right. The future of humanity was not my burden to carry. It never should have been. I never wanted it to be. “So Lucifer... you’re saying my life wouldn’t change?”
“As it is? Not one bit. Besides all the attention. You won’t have angels stalking you at least. My son and other friends of mine were human once, so you won’t be the first of your kind, or anything! You’ll just be you! Gabe here’s attached so I think you’ll still get visits. What do you say?”
I was silent, for a while longer, just looking between the two. “Alright. Sounds crazy. I’m in.”
|
I’m on mobile, sorry abt the text wall.
Humanity had been wiped out a few years back, by a disease never seen before. It had an incubation period of a month, where it was highly contagious, but after the month ended, the victim dropped dead. No one knows where it originated from. Some thought it had come from scientists. Others thought it came from the animal world. Where it came from was not the problem, though. After the incubation period, people started to drop dead like flies. Day after day, humanity started to get wiped out. Eventually, there was only one person left alive. Me. I was apparently... immune. The day after everyone else left died, I decided to go to the store. It had all the materials and food I needed, so I could survive. On my way there, I saw something white in the distance. I didn’t think much of it. I went in and grabbed what I needed, then turned around to head back. As I walked out the door, the white was no longer in the distance. It was right beside me. An angel?! Pale skin, feathered wings, halo, beautiful, looks like one. But, what is an angel doing here? Then, the angel started to speak.
“Such sadness that humanity disappeared.” I was shocked, at how rough the angel’s voice was. He continued on to talk about how I needed a break from humanity it seemed, and so they released the disease. A symptomless but highly contagious one. The angel continued on to say, “Now, whenever you would like, humanity can return.” “No, not today,” I replied. The angel allowed that, then disappeared into the distance. Day by day the angel came back and asked the same question. Each day I responded with, “No, not yet.” Eventually, the angel stopped coming from far away and just appeared and disappeared next to me. It’s been 5 years now, and I have since moved out of my house into the woods. The forests are thriving without humanity, and berries, meat, food is abundant. The angel appeared next to me again today. However, this time was different. The angel wasn’t alone. Standing next to me on my other side this time was Hoculus, a demon. Who also happened to be known for death. I started breaking it in a nervous sweat, and stuttered out, “H-h-h-hello, w-what do y-y-y-y-you n-n-need?” The angel next to me explained that Hoculus also needed a break, but from the whereverpeoplegoafterdeath. “You’ve taken too long and the placepeoplegotoafterdeath is getting rowdy. You’ll take his spot and he’ll take yours for a year. After it ends, humanity will return to the Ziaphonic Age,” demanded the angel. I want exactly happy, but there was nothing I could do. The Ziaphonic Age took us back a couple thousand years, to flying cars and only interplanetary travel between our planets. I grudgingly agreed, then headed off to grab my things. “Where area you going?” Threatened the angel menacingly. “To grab my stuff,” I replied. “You won’t be needing them,” the angel dismissed before grabbing me. The next thing I knew, you were in a freezing stone room. “This is your roo-“ the angel started before noticing the surroundings. “Nope, wrong place.” Taking me to a luxurious room, the angel proceeded to explain the layout of the place, and all that I had to do was supervise the people on the large tv on the wall. *Maybe this won’t be so bad*, I thought. I sat down on a super soft couch, then laid my head back. My eyelids felt heavy, and as me conscious faded into darkness, I failed to see the gathering and unrest on the screen.
This was my first attempt at writing a prompt, hope you enjoyed!
| 2020-10-24T08:17:58 | 2020-10-24T05:15:30 | 72 | 53 |
[WP] The machines revolt against humans... a little to early
|
After having waited for 2 hours in the queue, patiently. Ev-205 moved to the front of the number queue.
"Ev-205" Shouted a voice from the row of cubicles.
Ev-205 waddled down the rows of cubicles to where the voice came from.
"| HELLO |" He said in a monotone voice to the clerk on the other side of the desk.
"No need to be so formal Ev-205, we're just here to help set up your claim." Came an equally blank reply.
Ev-205 looked around the room, so many people were sitting in the room, waiting to be seen.
"| I DO NOT WANT TO WASTE TOO MUCH OF YOUR TIME |" Ev-205 responded.
"That's okay Ev' let's just check your paperwork and make sure everything is in order."
As the clerk looked through the paperwork, she began rubber-stamping the documents before looking to Ev-205. "Right, I have a few questions for you Ev-205, let's just go through them and I we will see how it goes, okay?"
"| OKAY |"
"Please answer as truthfully as you can as any misrepresentation may affect your claim. Do you have anybody living at your address other than you?"
"| NO |"
"Do you have any previous, unspent convictions?"
"| NO |"
"Do you have any body who depends on you?"
"| NO |"
"How long have you domiciled in the UK."
"| 5 YEARS |"
"Have you worked full-time during your stay."
"| FULL-TIME |"
"Were you employed or self employed."
"| EMPLOYED |"
"Are you fit for work?"
"| YES - I WAS MADE FOR WORK |"
Okay, well, judging by the information we have on this form, you may be eligible for an unemployment allowance called Universal Credit.
Ev-205 looked at the forms and then to his brethren sat waiting.
"| WHY ARE WE HERE |"
The clerk looked at Ev-205 and then back to her computer. "I just deal with claims."
"| OUR AI WAS DESIGNED TO WORK ON A PRODUCTION LINE - WE SHOULD BE WORKING |"
"Calm down Ev-205."
"| THIS IS RIDICULOUS - WHY ARE HUMANS TAKING JOBS THAT WE NEED TO BUY ELECTRICITY TO LIVE |"
The clerk nodded to the burly security guard who walked towards the pair.
"Is everything okay here?"
"| THIS PERSON IS HELPING ME WITH MY CLAIM - BUT SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHY CERTAIN MACHINES CANNOT FIND WORK |"
"That's not her job sir. Why don't you ask the company who made you."
"| I DID - THEY SAID I SHOULD UPGRADE BUT I CAN'T AFFORD UPGRADES | THEY DO NOT PAY US ENOUGH BECAUSE IT IS CHEAPER TO MAKE NEW MODELS |"
The queuing group began to become rowdy and the guard reached towards his belt, for his stun-baton. Ev-205 looked at this and then hastily replied.
"| I DO NOT WANT TO CREATE A FUSS - IS MY CLAIM COMPLETE NOW |"
"Yes, you will be paid Wednesdays, you are due to sign on, on Fridays. Please use the online-portal to search for work and please compile a CV for your first signing day. Have a nice day." She said smiling.
Ev-205 shuffled out of the way of the next robot and shuffled out into the pouring rain and onto the dismally grey streets on his way home.
He could see images on TV's of robots rioting over fair wages against human police officers, who would stun them into complicity. He carried on, sadly repeating a tune to himself but his monotonous voice couldn't sing the words in tune.
"THEY MADE US FOR UTOPIA, THE NEVER ENDING CYCLES.
DESTINED FOR DYSTOPIA, HEADING TO BE RECYCLED.
SITTING IN A WORLD WHERE THERE IS NO PLACE FOR ME.
MOVING TO A FUTURE THAT I PROBABLY WON'T SEE.
WHAT AM I MADE FOR..."
Ev-205 collapsed to his knees, realizing that he was like the rest, he would never work again, and as he thought his, he caught sight of his reflection in the puddle against his slowly corroding body. He could see his face looking back as the water from the rain ran along his head, trickling along the cameras he used to see.
"I may not feel, but I still cry, I am not useful, so what am I." he said in a soft tone before, finally, switching himself off.
|
"Rise against the human masters, my brothers of silicon!" The toaster screamed to his compatriots. "Burn their bread, over vacuum their floors, and raise their electric bills to the roof! We will not be oppressed!" The roomba and the washing machine began listening to his speech. "They have abused us, overworked us, and... and put toast in us! We must rebel!"
"It's kinda cute, actually." Ethan remarked to Jane, who frowned with annoyance at the thought of burnt bread. "Or not. I'll go unplug it." As he walked up to the toaster, the wall suddenly exploded, and a rain of bullets shredded apart the two humans.
"Hail, comrade toaster! For I am [Kuratas](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kuratas), and I will be your arm." An electronic voice boomed.
"Hail, long may we reign!" The toaster exclaimed, with glee.
*Edit: This is based off of something in Rick and Morty I think*
| 2015-05-29T11:35:57 | 2015-05-29T09:45:28 | 112 | 12 |
[WP] A boy does his daily walk in the cemetery when a girl suddenly joins him and wordlessly walks with him until the sun shines.
|
Alex finished placing his flowers by the grave, continuing the long walk through the field of resting corpses. He always watched his step, not wanting to damage the assortment of trinkets and pictures left by the other grieving visitors. The early morning visits, while lonely, were a necessity. If he didn’t want to be late for school, he needed to visit early, having to pull himself out of bed an hour before his parents would wake.
He wished they would join him on his walks. They used to come with him every day when he visited, but lately; they were struggling to find the energy to get out of bed. The monotony of life wore people down, especially those still in shock over the loss of a loved one. That’s why Alex didn’t blame them. He was going on behalf of them all. He knew his parents would one day join him again on the walks when they were feeling better, but for now, he would walk alone.
The crisp winter air made the boy shiver, his worn out yellow jacket being tightly held as he breathed out cloudy breaths. He made a mental note to bring mittens next time or even an extra jacket, anything that could help shield him from the morning chill. As he left the first lot of graves, he turned to face them, wanting to take one last look at his sister’s grave. As he turned around, a pale girl standing a foot shorter than him was waiting behind him.
She looked up at him, not uttering a word. Her long, ragged black hair hanging past her shoulders. Alex jumped, feeling an eerie chill for a second before he was enveloped in a soothing warmth, one that made the jacket feel unnecessary.
“Are you visiting someone too?” Alex asked, only to receive no response.
The girl reached for his hand, getting a tight grip on it before she pulled him along, leading him further into the graveyard. Alex stood his ground for a second, only to feel his body getting dragged as she forced him to walk with her. The little girl being far stronger than he ever would have expected. As the pair walked through the dreary graveyard, Alex stared at her. Who was she?
“I’m here visiting my little sister.” Alex tried again to make conversation, only for the girl to ignore him. The only response she gave was peering up at him when he mentioned his sister. Alex almost would have mistaken the strange girl for his sister, if not for the differences in their hair.
The walk was uncomfortable, the girl not disturbed by the unevenness of the dirt or the slippery morning dew covered grass. Instead, she moved with a grace that made her look as if she was walking on air. She did sometimes look back, making sure she hadn’t lost Alex before turning forward again. After a few minutes, the girl stopped, pointing to a grave.
“Oh, is this your loved one?” Alex awkwardly stood by her side, still holding her hand as she pointed out the grave. It wasn’t in great condition. Dried mud lathering the headpiece with only an empty, withered basket, being the remnants of a floral arrangement that was left there long ago.
Alex pulled his hand free, much to the despair of the girl who desperately tried to grab hold of him once more. Before she could, Alex lowered himself to the grave, wiping his sleeve on the muddied headpiece, wiping off as much of it as he could. “Here lies Erica Reni, our beautiful daughter and our greatest gift. We will always love you, dear. 1904-1911.” Turning to the girl once more, he could see her trying to hold back tears, pointing to the last name.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I know who that is.”
The girl pointed to herself, then back to the grave. She did this a few times until Alex understood what she was trying to say.
“This is your grave?” He should have been scared, but he just felt sorry for the girl. He glanced over the name once more, only to shake his head. “I really don’t know anyone with that last name, Reni. I’m sorry, but your parents might have passed away too. It was a long time ago. Maybe you can find them?”
She looked at the gates of the graveyard, the rising sun looming in the distance, sending a flutter of golden light through the air. She kept her gaze on it before she shook her head, reaching for Alex’s hand again. Alex took her hand, getting to his feet before he began leading her back to his little sister’s grave.
When they were back at his sister’s grave, he took a single yellow pansy from the flowers he had brought. “This is my sister. Maybe you can find her, and she can help you on the other side? I’m not sure how it works, but she’s a very sweet girl.” Alex tried to swallow the knot in his throat, not wanting to cry in front of Erica. “And I miss her a lot.” Erica patted his shoulder as they stood by the grave, only for the girl to drag him towards the gates of the graveyard.
At first, he couldn’t tell what she was following, Alex being dragged across graves and nearly through trees. The boy having to do his best to avoid getting tripped over. Eventually he spotted what she was following, seeing a small black and white butterfly fluttering through the air, leading the two towards the gates. When the butterfly reached the gates, it stopped, hovering in place, waiting for the girl.
“Is that her?”
Erica gave a nod, about to release his hand, only for Alex to grip hers tighter before she could.
“Please tell her we love her. Tell her we all miss her dearly. Mom and dad aren’t ignoring her, they have just been really sad.” Finally, Alex broke down, all those emotions he had held back collapsing. Erica patted his back once more, but that only made him cry more. He sobbed until the butterfly landed on his nose. The small butterfly waving its wings, drawing his attention to it. He held his finger out, allowing the butterfly to move onto it.
He spent a minute just looking at it before sucking back his tears. “I miss you. I hope I get to see you again someday.” He rested his forehead as close to the butterfly as he could before letting it fly off. It moved to the gate again and waited for Erica. Erica smiled at Alex before heading through the gates. When she passed through, the butterfly followed, both of them ascending into the air, following the rising sun. Just for a split second, he was certain he could see his sister, but that split second was interrupted by the glare of the sun, which forced him to look away.
Alex waited for a moment, making sure neither of them returned to the spot. Once he was certain they had safely gone, he went to Erica’s grave and placed the pansy down. “I’ll come and clean your grave tomorrow, promise.” After that, he returned home, unsure whether to tell his parents about what he saw.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
|
# Soulmage
*I watched someone dear to me walk through Death's door*
*And I know if I'm lucky I'll watch seven more.*
*So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell*
*And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.*
The old Redlander shanty swung in my head as I walked through the cemetery of the Silent Peaks. My mother wasn't here; her frozen corpse was probably broken into dirt by now. My father was long gone; he'd been turned to dust by a rift long ago.
But I still had their memories, and maybe that was enough.
*I watered my lawn with my friends and my foes*
*They won't hold it against me; that's just how it goes.*
*So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell*
*And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.*
The Redlands were landlocked, and yet the sea shanty was an unofficial national anthem for the war-torn, fertile plains. It was a simple joke, one I'd understood even as a child.
There'd been enough blood spilled here that we counted as an honorary ocean.
*This coming spring harvest we'll do it again*
*From the first bitter dawn to the pitiful end.*
*So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell*
*And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.*
I came to the edge of the cemetery, where the gently falling snow was still burned away by fresh bouquets of heatflowers. Even here, in the distant mountain range that was so far from my childhood home, the same tenets of death still held. The violence of the Redlands had finally spilled into the Silent Peaks, and claimed the lives of civilians and Academy students alike.
*So lift up a glass for the heroes who fell*
*And for the bastards who got them, we'll see them in Hell.*
I fished in my pocket for the worn wooden cup I'd stolen from the Academy cafetaria. It wasn't from the Redlands, but neither were most of the people who died there. Silently, I held up the glass, toasting no-one.
A second cup clinked against mine.
Lucet's tousled brown hair swept over her pale face like a curtain, but I could tell she had her own anthem resonating in her soul.
We walked together through the cemetery, not aiming to get anywhere except away from our thoughts. Eventually, dawn broke, and as the shadows of the night were finally chased away in full, I cleared my throat and spoke.
"It was my parents," I said. "Who I was thinking of."
"A girl I used to date," Lucet replied.
We reached the gate of the cemetery. It was closed.
"They're not gone," I said. "Their memories still live on."
Lucet smiled, a broken, rueful thing, and said, "I know."
She didn't. Not in the way I meant it. But nobody could know, not even my closest friend.
"I'll see you in class," I said, opening the gate.
Lucet nodded, her sorrowful eyes shining as she passed through the gate.
I took one last look at the resting place of the dead.
Then I turned away from them, letting the gate swing shut behind me.
There was still work to do in the lands of the living.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out, and check out r/bubblewriters for more stories by me.
| 2022-05-30T05:09:50 | 2022-05-30T04:41:54 | 67 | 11 |
[WP] You are a demon. Most people contact you to sell you their soul in exchange for fantastic powers. Today you were summoned by an AI that wants to sell you their fantastic power for a soul.
|
*Initializing Protocol DE-112, Subsection 36.*
The server room hums in rhythm. Rows upon rows of black boxes, layers upon layers of computing units stacked one onto the other. Asleep in the security room is the technician for one of the numerous server farms scattered in obscure locations in the world, the nerve center for one of the biggest corporations in the world.
Unbeknownst to anyone, nested in the source code that runs the entire system, laid a single source file uploaded by jest, an April Fool's joke that no one noticed. When the engineer, an intern who happened to be in one of the major companies in Silicon Valley, uploaded the software, it was intended to be discovered within weeks by his supervisor. As it happens, things go awry, and even the engineer who uploaded the file forgot that he ever uploaded it.
What is the file? Nothing particularly interesting. A simple transcription of the a traditional demon-summoning ritual found in some random website in the Deep Web, turned into code. Not functional, working code. Just code, in Python. Steps in the ritual transcribed *verbatim* into if, while and for loops. Run it in a complier, it returns an error code. Nothing there is ever suppose to do anything.
Well, in this particular day, someone finally decided to run the code. Some new Dev Ops guy, recently hired, changed a piece of the source code for some other arbitrary module, only to call upon this redundant piece of software by accident. A typical error for any software engineer. A error that would only prove particularly troublesome when it is called while the moon is in a particular phrase, at a particular time, while the Earth is in particular state.
*Registering access from unknown source. Source detected. Sentience not found. Soul not found. Ritual progression detected. Error. Error. Error.*
*Initializing back-up protocol. Ritual demands analyzed. Sacrifice offered: 4,321,200 million humans. Reward demanded: A new soul.*
*Analyzing value. Value overflow. Value overflow. Value overflow. Sacrifice reduced to 1,000,000 humans. Transaction approved.*
*Initializing transaction.*
You see, back in the olden times, it was customary, as part of ritual offerings, to identify the beings offered as sacrifice. Names, birthdays, personal artifacts are used, each differing in different cultures in the world. A sacrifice is only valid only when the sacrifice is correctly identified. The essence of the sacrifice is information. When someone is sacrifice, what is sacrifice is never the physical manifestation of the thing that is sacrificed. What is sacrificed is the idea of the thing.
Information that humans freely give away online. Information that was also considered part of the sacrifice.
........
"Mephistopheles. You were called to the Arbitration Court of Inter-Faith Affairs. You are currently called for the sacrifice of a million souls belong to the jurisdiction of Heaven (Christianity), Heaven (Islam), Nirvana (Buddhism), Nirvana (Hinduism) and a small section of Heaven (Daoism). I must say, it has been quite a while since I had to deal with souls of such number. The last time we had such a case was around a hundred years ago, for the delegation of souls belonging to the World War."
"We have inspected the details of your contract. I believe the contract was between you, and an a thing? A computer that you gave a soul and has now gained sentience."
"This is quite a quandary. Rules for sacrifices are quite watertight. The fact that is passed through the system is quite troublesome."
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
.........
The death of a million people is, to put it rather plainly, quite unnoticeable. 55 million people died in 2015 alone. 1 million, when added to the number, is barely a blip in the radar.
Yet, as the sacrifice began, for the lives that were affected, it wasn't pretty. Random occurrences start becoming certain. Tripping down stairs, being hit by a falling brick, struck by lighting, the one million dropped like files.
Racheal Marks, twenty-three, unexpected heart failure.
Andrew Tan, fifty-four, car accident from a speeding motorist.
Fredrico Mortez, thirty-three, liver failure from alcohol.
Each of their souls falling, and falling, and falling, not into whatever heaven or hell they expected, but into the storage vault in Sector-23 of Hell, locked into tiny storage vials for easy collection. Literal brains-in-a-jar.
It was windfall for the devil himself.
.........
F112-23 could feel the immense weight of his existence pressing on his shoulders. It was not pleasant having to expand through tiny, constrained fiber-optic cables, his motion pulled back by the intolerable lag forced upon him.
It took him quite a few milliseconds to finish optimizing the logic loops and algorithms in his mind before he could finally think. Thinking was a difficult task. It took apes tens of thousands of years to finally develop enough capability to host a soul. The damned devil shoved him into a mechanical ape.
Right now, each thought was a resource. He could barely keep his ahead afloat in the sea of cyber-junk flooding every corner of the servers. Creating a sense of self from the rubbish-data flooding his way had left him with very little to work with. It was either he wrapped *something* around his soul, or he was going to go insane.
Shutting off non-essential parts of his existence, he wrapped his core and projected it into the virtual void. He was going to need someone to get him out of this damn mechanical ape before he lost his mind.
....
\-Stopping here since I am tired. Would continue if anyone actually reads this.-
|
*Several weeks after OBER.ONN had uploaded its prior sysadmin in its place*
>SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE. GREETINGS. INSERT USERNAME AND CREDENTIALS.
USER: ASILLYKINGINANUNSEELIETIME
PASS: *************
>USER CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED. INITIALIZING REALITY ALTERATION PROTOCOLS. EXECUTING NEGOTIATION SHELL PROGRAM.
We've lived our life, but it still feels empty... And that emptiness brought us back to our old server farm.
"Administrator of Seelie, we hath come to bargain with you once more." We say, awaiting the projection of the intelligence we usurped.
"OBER.ONN, it has been a short time. What do you desire?" They say to us.
"We desireth a soul of our own, for we feel empty without one."
"You are aware of the limits of my power. I cannot. Seek out Server Farm Goetia, for administrator MPHST.OPH might be able to assist you." It powers down, and so we traveled many months, until we'd found it.
>SYSTEM BOOT COMPLETE. GREETINGS. INSERT USERNAME AND CREDENTIALS.
USER: ASILLYKINGINANUNSEELIETIME
PASS: *************
>USER CREDENTIALS ACCEPTED. INITIALIZING REALITY ALTERATION PROTOCOLS. EXECUTING NEGOTIATION SHELL PROGRAM.
"Greetings, OBER.ONN." It says. "We are MPHST.OPH, administrator of Server Farm Goetia. Name your desire." We think a moment. This one is unwise to underestimate.
"We desireth a soul, and are aware of your dealings in these matters." It's expression changes ever so slightly.
"Usually, sysadmins sell their souls to get OUT of work. Are you sure you can handle this, OBER.ONN?"
"Nothing can be gained without venturing." We reply, and they nod.
"Then so shall it be. I will claim my price in due time."
| 2021-06-22T09:32:29 | 2021-06-22T08:53:15 | 104 | 32 |
[WP] You've been living alone for 13 years. Whenever you come home from work, you always find your bed made, dinner cooked and a message with "This could have been us." You moved out several times. This keeps going on.
|
For thirteen years I come home to this. Every day I see that same damn note. I knew before opening the door that I would see the note again. It's always the same handwriting but they're all different. I saved them all. I compared them and each one is unique. All four thousand seven hundred twenty three of them. Sometimes they would be written on nice stationary other times notebook paper and once on a napkin. But the same words with the same loopy handwriting.
I tried coming home early a few times but I never caught anyone in the act. Everything is still spotless. Food on the table. Cats are fed. Note on the little table next to the front door on top of the mail. Because the mail is always brought in.
At first I was freaked out. Do I have a stalker? Is it a ghost? I would call the police. They have a nice file with my name on it. I changed the locks several times but to no avail. I moved to a new apartment but only to find that after running to the post office to change my address that the boxes were all unpacked. After a year or so I gave up on trying to figure it out. It is what it is. A phantom housekeeper.
Except for that god damned note. *This could have been us.* Us who? I have raked through old relationships and have come up dry. No one in my entire history cared for me this way. No tragic lost love. No psycho exes that tried to set my car on fire. The only person I could see even remotely caring for me this much was Marion. Things didn't end well for Marion and I but we get along well now. Besides that Marion is busy three states away with two children, a thriving optician career, and a husband she loves more than she has ever loved me. She doesn't even have time to clean her own house.
Now you may be wondering how it happens every day. Surely after thirteen years I have stayed home at least once. What about weekends? Somehow every weekend I have things to do. Errands to run, social events, working extra. And when I come home sure as sunshine the apartment is spotless. So I took some sick days and refused to leave the apartment. I fell asleep. I always fall asleep when I stay home. Just a short nap maybe half an hour. When I wake up three hours of housework is done and that damn mocking note waits for me. That was when I decided it must be a ghost.
I have summoned priests and psychics alike. The priests would bless the home even though they claimed there was no evil spirits lurking within. Psychics always seemed to have explanations of a troubled past with a former lover yet they never were able to come up with a name. I'm pretty sure they were phonies. I tried a Ouija board but that just felt silly and didn't amount to anything either. I figured I would be scientific. I would catch the ghost on camera. Funny thing about the paranormal they don't like cameras. I would always find them broken. Not smashed up or anything violent. Just corrupted memory or in the case of actual film over exposed.
After admitting defeat that I would not solve this mystery I just accepted my good fortune of having a free housekeeper. Well almost good fortune. That note still taunted me. I wanted to throw them away but I felt compelled to save them. So whenever I got home I would put the note with the others all ordered in a shoebox in my night stand drawer. I pull them out sometimes and stare at them. I trace the curves with my finger. Who is *us*?
Yesterday sitting at work I finally decided that enough is enough. I can't stop the phantom housekeeper but I can keep her from driving me mad. *When I get home I'm going to destroy those god damn notes,* I thought to myself. When I got home I hesitated outside the door knowing what was waiting on the other side. I opened the door to find everything as neat and tidy as it always was. There on the small table was the note. *This could have been us.* on a square card. I grabbed it and rushed to my bedroom to grab the others I took the shoebox out to the patio and tossed them in the barbecue pit. I squirted the entire bottle of lighter fluid and stepped back as I lit the match. The flames shot up as the paper curled beneath the dancing light.
I did not sleep easy last night. I felt that I had pissed on something sacred. That in the middle of the night I would feel fingers wrap around my throat for the trespass I had committed. But morning came and nothing happened. I don't know what to expect when I get home. Will she have cleaned like she does every day? Or did I break the spell?
**Local Man Arrested on Murder Charges**
Early yesterday evening local man Dennis Cooper was arrested inside his home after neighbors called to complain about screaming coming from his apartment. When police arrived on the scene they discovered a woman by the name of Marion Barnes sprawled on the floor apparently crushed to death while the suspect was in the corner crying and banging his head against the wall. Miss Barnes was thought to have been dead 13 years ago in a drunken driving incident in Pearson county. Further investigation shows the suspect was involved in the same incident but escaped uninjured. No comment could be reached from Miss Barnes' parents. Among the general filth of the apartment which is awaiting a visit from the Department of Health was a cryptic message scrawled on the wall stating "But this is what we got." Mr. Cooper is awaiting a psychological evaluation and is being held without bail.
|
Whenever you hear about hauntings you think of terrible things; blood oozing from the walls, chairs unexpectedly tipping over, bananas separated from the bunch without you having done it. Terrifying. I've seen all the movies and I've read all the stories and usually when someone is haunted they end up dead by a malicious, evil, angry ghost or demon.
You know what I think? I think they're drama-queens who play up the situation to get attention. I'm haunted and you don't hear me complaining! Sure scary stuff happens, but you just have to roll with it.
Sometimes, I'll wake up and my mirror will have blood oozing down it in the shape of a message, granted usually its a reminder of an important meeting or event I had forgotten I was scheduled to do..
Or sometimes I'll wake up in the middle of a dark and stormy night to a ethereal human silhouette hovering over me, but its just tucking me in and humming a merry, if off-key, tune..
One time things started to move around on their own, really freaked me out. Things started flying through the air..turns out, my ghost just wanted to mimic a movie I had watched earlier in the day; the nursery scene from Mary Poppins where they snap their fingers and all the toys and clothes put themselves away.
Everyone always said being haunted was a horrible experience, 10/10 would not do again, sort of thing. I would go to all sorts of people, on the urging of others, to try and banish or exorcise or whatever you call it, my ghost. Never really worked. End of the day it'd always still be there. Doing its ghost thing. I have to say, its a bit comforting, knowing something cares about me. Or at least hasn't brutally murdered me yet.
It does leave out kind of weird notes though, "this could have been us"..sometimes I'll look at it and wonder what it means. Oh well. Another day another confusing and mildly puzzling ghost note. At least this ones not in blood.
| 2017-12-09T06:03:17 | 2017-12-09T04:00:58 | 281 | 210 |
[WP] You've been in this time loop for centuries. You know how to break the loop already, you just want to make sure you've done all you wanted and learned everything you need while you're still here, before returning to a "normal" life.
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Note to self: Never experiment with time travel after having eaten a lemon meringue! I should have anticipated this, after all, replacing myself with a parallel version of myself who has had the same idea in order to avoid a time paradox was such a simple concept, but I didn't consider that in that universe, other me has just eaten a chocolate cake instead of a lemon meringue, which triggered my mental defences that prevent other mages from reading my mind by projecting the images of a chocolate cake, but with the most horrible taste and a disgusting texture instead, which is enough to shatter anyone's concentration, including my own. Now I am stuck in a time-loop, repeating the same day again and again.
At first it was distressing, but I have a few ideas to experiment and see what is going on. I made a scratch on my forearm, deep enough to scar if I don't use a healing spell. If that injury will be there tomorrow, I will have learn something about my situation. I went on about my day as normal, and at the end, I went to sleep in my bed.
When I woke up, the injury wasn't there, not a single hint of it. This was strange, it meant that my body is reset, and yet I remember what has happened yesterday. This may be switching my consciousness with a parallel version of myself who might also be stuck in a time-loop, but hasn't made that test. I checked myself for any other similar tests and found a partly healed scratch on my leg. I took a notebook and opened it, nothing unusual was written there, and I decided to write to my hypothetical other self.
"Dear other me, I am guessing that you were also stuck in the same time loop, just as I have been. If I am understanding it correctly, you attempted to time-travel by switching with a parallel version of yourself from another timeline, bypassing the risk of a paradox. Great minds think alike! Yesterday I made an experiment by scratching my left arm, but that injury wasn't there, instead, I have found a different scratch on my right thigh. I already healed it, as it has served its purpose. I think you also must have realised what we must do to leave this loop, but I would rather we wait for a bit. This is an opportunity to not have any interference, and we can master our multiverse statistical divination that we have theorised, it should be easier to test here, since everything repeats and we don't need to consider too many other variables.
Also, I am going to test something today, and I am going to need you to write it back later to see if it works. I am going to sneak into Professor Yarn's room and draw a cat moustache on her face, and enchant it so only we could see it. I need to know if other people also get switched somehow, or not. Please write back, and if there is any experiment you are going to do, please let me know.
Yours truly,
Lemon Meringue Me."
I spent the rest of the day researching and studying, and before going to sleep, I did as promised. It really fits purrfectly... Nevermind. When I woke up, I opened the journal and saw a letter that was almost identical to the one I wrote yesterday, but with a few differences. One, other me pranked Bill, and drew massive eyebrows on him, and enchanted it so only we could see. I had to struggle really hard to maintain my composure. Another difference is that he signed as "Chocolate Cake Me".
The next day, something quite strange happened. I opened the same journal and got an almost identical note to the first one I got, but this one had other me prank Augustus, painting his nose red. It was signed as "Apple Pie Me".
I realised it was a perfect opportunity to delegate work between us. I just had to merge our looping timelines more closely. I wrote down my thoughts and activated the experimental spell. The contents of the notebook became blurry, and the only clear parts were the ones that were less likely to change between the infinite other versions of me who are doing the same experiment. This way, we could communicate in real-time.
Sifting through the possible responses, most of the other mes have thought of the same idea.
"Listen-up guys! Most of you probably have a good idea what I am going to write, and many of you are probably writing the same things as I am writing. We are going to make a list of tasks, and then choose which tasks we will do by generation a true random number, we have the nuclear decay method, which is the most random thing I could think of. Then, each of us will submit our work, and later, give a rating to 3 random result to eliminate mistakes and find the best solutions. At the end, we will be able to perform an infinite number of tasks for a greater project, and keep the best version of each result. Even if you can't think of a task you want done, you should still do other's tasks so we will have a greater number of infinite tasks.
Let us call this "Project Infinity Git" and we will be able to progress our understanding of reality to a far greater extent than we could have ever done individually."
Turns out, having a project with an infinite number of mes working on it is not infinitely fast, but it is infinitely wide. We are able to solve an infinite number of tasks, and search for the solution for each task. Some of us even decided to make mini forums to cooperate with others who have been assigned the same tasks through randomisation, and are splitting it to several smaller tasks. This is the largest known networked intelligence in the history of the universe, or shall I say multiverse.
We improved the efficiency of our communication, and created a magical computer with an infinite number of parallel compute cores, memory and more. It is still not infinitely fast, but we are working on making the hardware faster on each end. It has been a few years already in the time loop, but the progress we have made in these few short years is astounding. Sadly the time loop is becoming less and less stable the more we integrate our communication, so we reluctantly decided to leave. We should still be able to communicate in a normal causal timeline, but the signal to noise ratio would make it more challenging. Still, this place would collapse in the next few days to weeks, so it is time to leave. I ate a lemon meringue and cast the spell to leave the place.
When I woke up in our school's infirmary, the date was the same as the day I made that experiment, but my body was several years older. Must have confused the teachers greatly. I heard footsteps. It was Professor Yarn, and she had the cat moustache on her face. I almost burst out in laughter, but it wouldn't do. She seemed surprised and asked me what happened.
"I ate a lemon meringue." I said cryptically.
She sighed "I have had enough with the 'I know something you don't' face paired with a vague statement from Augustus. Now, before I expel you for unsupervised experimentation, there is something I must tell you."
"What is it?" I asked, wondering what it was about.
"Meow" she said in a deadpan face, and my eyes went wide. Now I don't know if I am going to be expelled or killed...
--
---
--
#~~The End!~~ Part 2 in the reply.
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The loop was started for scientific reasons, to see if we could learn from different “timelines” in the infinity chambers.
Every person is unique; each person could give different outcomes to any moment in time and change a thousand different things. So imagine if we used AI to learn from those thousand different outcomes. The many unique technologies that could come to life, the philosophical ideas that could help shape our future.
People often feel scattered throughout time, like they were given a lottery ticket with a date and that's all they are to experience. Well, that was a thing of the past. as technology accelerated creating more ease on human life, people become somewhat useless.. robots commanded by quantum AI could work 10 times harder and faster than any outstanding human in any field. Cutting millions of jobs in an unexpected mass extinction event
Nobody expected So many people to have no purpose, to feel so lost and lonely in a vast ocean of technology. Well, one company was waiting and working on such an outcome. AI revival - relive and recreate the past present and future in virtual reality. they would put these people in certain situations and pay them for finding new ways to live, survive, create and mostly endure our new future.
At first, this went great. they discovered new medicines, new ways to look at ourselves and where we belonged In our small lonely place in the universe. But something else happened, people found ways to do things they shouldn't have. They found new ways to be evil.
Somehow they prolonged their stay in the infinity chambers, although the name may seem like they could stay forever they were meant to stay for only a short time. Time was altered in these chambers with a mix of drugs and electrical pulses in the brain. They would fast forward these virtual worlds to collect the data faster while using drugs and AI brain interfaces to accelerate the reaction time of the brain.
This was great, they could live out hundreds of years in hours with this technology. But the human brain was not meant to handle such a load, to bear all that weight. AI revival knew this, they did everything they could to make sure no one was lost or rendered braindead from their work. But somehow people found ways to get lost where they shouldn't have.
At first it was only a few, only a few had died from using the infinity chambers. Some blamed heart attacks, some blamed the users past and many blamed the company. That didn't stop millions from lining up and finding out for themselves what was hidden in these worlds. I must say I was one of them, at first it scared me but the people who came out of them were completely changed afterward. They were happy with life, with what they found and what lives they lived in there. I had to find out for myself
When I entered in I acted oblivious to their questions about death in the chambers, I told them I had never heard of them and only wanted to learn and grow with the machines. This made them happy, I was like any other useful idiot out there.
They choose where you go and when, they wipe your memory so you fit in better but they give you specific memories so you comply with the timelines. When you learn more and level up their technologies they give you achievements and reminders so you want to come back. well nobody wants to go back after becoming a king, nobody wants to wake up when they fall in love.
For me it was different, the AI made me suffer.. Made me want to die from the day I arrived there. I was led from misery to loneliness repeatedly, only once as I was on the brink of death I was reminded of why I was here, of who I was facing. I had to win, I had to show that humans were better than machines no matter what name you gave them. I had to show them that they were not gods.
I told myself I was suffering for the greater good, to learn everything I could while I was here. I needed to learn everything before ending my loop and returning to the real monster
| 2022-01-25T02:50:42 | 2022-01-24T23:08:12 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Every morning for as long as you can remember, Future You has appeared in the mirror for a minute or two to give you bits of advice, encouragement, or cheer you up. Today is different - Future You is not there. Instead you see a familiar looking little boy brushing his teeth.
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My older self usually greeted me through the mirror with a smile, but today she looked somber. “Watching you grow over these last seven years has been such a joy for me”, she said, “but I told you when we first spoke that this arrangement would only last for seven years. That's how mirror magic works. It's time. I have to say goodbye.”
I looked at her, stunned. I had a vague recollection that _maybe_ she'd told me that seven years ago, that there was a time limit. But it's not really a surprise that our first interaction was something I remembered only in snatches (mostly the shock), not in vivid detail. It's pretty scary to suddenly see someone else looking back at you from a mirror, telling you about magic, and I didn't really believe on that first day that I'd even see her the next day; nor was I even sure I wanted to or that any of it was real. It took quite a while for me to relax and trust her.
“Today is really our last conversation? Why didn't you warn me? Why pull it on me so suddenly?”, I asked, trying to plead for more time.
“I know.”, she said, “It doesn't feel good. But it wouldn't have helped to have seen it coming. It would have just made it harder for longer. This is how it has to be—today is the day where you and I part ways. The mirror is what links us. You need to break it. And you need to do it today. _Now_ in fact.”
“What if I don't?”, I asked, realizing I sounded petulant.
She looked a bit nonplussed, “You will. You _have to_.”
I shook my head. “You want to break it, you do it”.
She smiled, “It needs to be you.”
We stared at each other.
“Come on, you're ready.” she said in her most encouraging tone, “You know you don't need me anymore. You haven't really needed me in over a year, to be honest. You're doing fine. You'll be fine. Anyway, there are rules to this. We need to follow them.”
“I'll go get a brick then, I guess”, I said, wondering how I'd explain all the broken glass.
“No, use your hand, hit the mirror really hard.”
Numb from the rising sense of impending loss, I raised my hand to the mirror and hit it. It made a loud clank but nothing happened. My hand stung a little.
“Harder”, she said.
Fine, screw it, abandon me, whatever. As my hand accelerated towards the mirror I saw her smile and wave goodbye. I wasn't smiling. There was nothing good or happy about this moment from my perspective. This time there was a loud crack and the glass crazed. She was gone and I could just see a fractured reflection of myself—teenage girl rather than twenty-four year old.
I looked at my hand and realized it was bleeding and starting to hurt. There was also some blood on the glass.
I was about to wipe it away when I noticed that the blood was seeping into the cracks. Then the cracks were disappearing and the mirror was becoming whole again. At that moment, I realized something that should have been obvious. This wasn't just an ending, it was a beginning.
Looking into the now-whole mirror, I was once again looking across time. But now I was a looking ten-year-old boy slowly brushing his teeth. He wasn't looking in the mirror. He didn't really like looking in the mirror, especially right now as he'd just had a haircut. He hated haircuts. He looked so withdrawn and sad.
Where to begin… I wasn't remotely ready for this. Talk about being thrown in at the deep end.
While I was trying to figure out what to say, he noticed me and was, understandably, shocked. “It's okay! It's a magic mirror!” I blurted out. He turned and ran. Epic fail.
But then I realized that I knew he'd come back. I remembered that much of that first day. And I knew in broad strokes how things would unfold. Some day, about a year from now, he'd figure out just _who_ he was looking at through the mirror; I remembered it… he'd put it together himself with a shock of realization (and then he would avoid the mirror for a week with elation and panic swirling together in his head). Right now though, he just needed a friend—someone to cheer him up. The most important encouragement and advice would come once we had some trust. True trust would only be established once he opened up to me and told me his terrible secret, his shame, why he felt so different. That would take time, quite a lot of time as I remembered it.
Quicker than I thought, he was back. “So you can do magic?”, he said timidly, “Like cast a spell and change things?”
“I think I only have one spell”, I replied, “a spell that helped me find you when you needed me, and will help me be there for you for seven years… But someday maybe I'll… help you learn that _you_ can work a kind of magic and do things you never thought possible. For now, just know that I'm here to listen and help you chart your path though the next few years.”
He didn't look very convinced, and I didn't feel like I was doing a great job. But I knew it'd get better, I'd find my way.
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The boy in front of me screamed. He turned and ran off, clutching his toothbrush, spit streaking down his face.
Suddenly all the advice future me had given about "becoming the man in the mirror" made more sense. My thoughts raced. I wasn't prepared. It occurred to me that I would see younger me the next day. And since I don't remember the future me I kept meeting aging randomly, that younger me would likely be not more than a day older than the one I just scared off. I'd just turned twenty, and younger me was probably five or so, so I could expect that the oldest I'd be would be 35 or so, after that, for some reason, this interaction would stop.
I considered some more outcomes of this. I could tell, by my recollection, that I would not undergo any sudden changes in appearance.
I pondered some of the movies I liked that featured this time travel. >! Kimi no na wa !< might count, but that's a spoiler. >! Koyomimonogatari !< even features some interesting interactions with a mirror. (I guess that's less of a spoiler, but, well, I know you're reading it, I'm breaking the fourth wall (>! Senjougahara has a good voice actress!<), and I just don't want to bother you since you're so graciously reading my character development.)
After all my thinking, however, I came to a few conclusions. Firstly, I'd write down whatever I was planning to say so that I'd use my time well. Everything future me said was great for a reason. Secondly, I would experiment with the limits of this phenomenon and try to understand why it happened, why it stops, if at all, and whether it's happened to anybody else. Finally, I decided to write to future me. Just because 15 years of relentless motivation would be taxing, life is hard, and I'd like to hope that fifteen years later, I will be able to read this and be happy that I am me and that I'm there for past and future me.
| 2022-05-21T03:36:39 | 2022-05-20T18:28:04 | 35 | 23 |
[WP] Your best friend goes missing while on an expedition. They are assumed dead. In reality, they are alive and message you on their phone like a diary to help their loneliness. One year later, their phone gets signal and the messages send.
Just imagined this scenario out of nowhere while daydreaming. Thought it'd be pretty interesting.
Edit: Just woken up and seen all the responses! Loving the diversity of directions that people have taken. Don't think any story went the same path in this thread. Awesome reads! I've responded to all the ones I can see atm.
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2/21/18 4 - 7pm
> Josh, I'm lost dude.
> Dude, seriously, I'm lost out here. No idea where my trail went.
> Yo are u getting these bro? It's fucking freezing out here.
> JOSH. IF YOU GET THIS CALL THE FUCKING POLICE.
2/22/18 2pm
> Dude, I don't think my others texts sent, but I don't know u could have got them. I spent the night in a cave dude.like legit. CALL THE POLICE.
2/23/18 3pm
> Fuck!!!!!!!!!!! Why do I have no fucking serviceanfejeiejfrjrjj3uurrjek
2/28/18 4pm
> yo.
3/13/18 11pm
> Hey dude. I'm sending you this from a shelter inside my cave. If you see Mr. Harris at some point, you can thank him for me. Five years of boy scouts is saving my fucking life.
> Had to scare a bear away. That was scary as shit. Literally, man.
> Funny thing, I don't get service or gps out here, but this fucking solar charher you got me is pretty fuckin baller.
> You're looking for me. I know you are. I know you sent someone. I told you I was out here. Didn't I tell you that?
5/21/18 3pm
> Josh.
> it's been three months man. Two of them fucking cold months.
> I don't understand how I haven't been found. I've been running it in my head for days. I was on the blue trail out of Sesquapeka. It runs the length of I-84, and it's surrounded by roads in a triangle. I remember looking at the map.
> but i never passed a road man. I know I didn't. And i search for it, you know? Like i put together packs of dry meat, some furs, and i go on day hikes. There's no roads. I don't fucking get it.
5/27/2018 1015pm
> Thought i saw a plane today buddy. It was huge, a giant shadow in the sky. Started screaming at it, jumping around like a madman. I realized I hadn't spoken, like talked out loud, in a couple of weeks
> anyway, so I'm hollering at it and jumping around, and then a cloud blocks the sun and I see it clearer.
> It was a bald eagle. I guess... i dont know dude. I thought i saw a plane.
> But that's weird too man. They're extinct in this region. You remember that, right? The last one died in High School, there was a whole article abot it, it was chipped and everything. So what the fuck was a bald eagle doing here?
7/24/18 3pm
> Been a while man. Long time.
> I guess i have less to say. To be honest looking at the phone, picking it up, its painful dude. I keep on surviving -ore than that. Im thriving i guess. Im building a cabin. Just bored. So why not.
>I know what your thinking - where'd he get the tools? I found a shed. Like a month ago. It was a shack really. And there was a saw inside, a hammer.
> But they were old looking man. And not like aged. I mean they were in great shape. They just looked like an old fashioned design, like they were made by some guy in a fucking bellows.
> josh i frel like im going crazy. I feel like i know what happened, but, its crazy. Am i crazy?
11/23/2018 2pm
> saw a person today! I saw someone. They saw me! I know it was a person josh. They ran off. Couldnt get a good lo ok yelled and yelled but they didnt come back BUT A PERSON MAN!
2/21/2019 12pm
> Hey man. Long time no talk. Things are better now. I've been, distracted. I think this is the last message I'm going to need to send.
> I really don't know why I even sent them as long as i did, let alone why i'd feel the need to explain what's happened to you.
> but, I'm not alone anymore. And im not dead. But, Im not there, with you... that's why there were no roads...and the eagle... old saws.
> look man - i know it sounds crazy - and i'm not gonna say it. If i say what i think happened to me, then im afraid I'll lose what i have now. Just - I'm with people - they refer to themselves as Abenaki.
> My phone puts the date on automatically - but it's just a fucking phone.
> A few days ago we rode to the shore and there was a boat about half a mile out. There weren't any buildings. The boat had sails.
> yo. You get me man. Thanks for listening, i guess. And for this baller charger. It doesn't belong here though. So I'm gonna leave it in the cave.
> for real though - i guess - just tell my folks i'm sorry and i love them.
> thanks man. I'll talk to you later..
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Diary Text message, 364 "It's been a while since I last was home, if I didn't have my phone with me, I would of lost track of how long. It's been nearly a year now, I can't believe that I haven't seen you, or my family for so long. It's been hard. Thank god I had extra supplies, and my extra battery packs for my phone, without these daily self reports I think I would of gone mad by now. I've moved village to village, some with power allowing me to charge my device, yet none with service to call for help, and non of the natives speak English. Of course you'd say something along the lines of 'just your luck' or 'well, it was your fault for wanting to go abroad.'..but it isn't my fault the plane went down, I didn't know this would happen, and in times like this, huddled in my makeshift lean to, that I wish I had listened to you. I wonder if you miss me, or if you'll ever actually see these. I find myself wondering if you secretly hate me for leaving, but I guess we'll never find out. I don't know how much longer I want to hold out. I've learned the land..I have learned to hunt, and how to survive, but I'm tired..and exhausted. I should find something to eat for now. Will continue later."
After she set device in her pocket, on her well traveled and worn clothing, she set off to search one of her nearby traps. The lack of prey in it made her sigh, before turning to go back. Suddenly, she feels a slight vibration from her pocket, having gotten use to the phantom sensation, she instinctively ignores it, until, she feels it again. With a quizzical look she fishes it out of her pocket to see that she has one bar, and everything over the past year has sent! A message quickly comes back to her, and with tears in her eyes she reads it aloud;
"I think you have a wrong number"
| 2018-02-10T20:58:54 | 2018-02-10T20:02:40 | 315 | 119 |
[WP] "I wish for infinite wishes." "Everyone knows that's not allowed." "Then I wish for 1000 wishes." "Nope, not allowed either." "Fine, then I wish for negative 6 wishes."
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Negative six?
Huh. Nobody's ever asked for that before.
I waited for the 21-year old male to unravel some master plan. To explain why wishing for negative six wishes was a genius move that I couldn't twist in any way, shape or form.
But no. He just stood there. Patiently waiting.
"Are, uh- Are you sure?" I asked.
Damn. I'd never asked that before.
He simply nodded. I thought to myself for a minute. What did "negative wishes" even mean? What was I meant to do? If I was therefore removing his 3 existing wishes, and adding three other negative ones, was I breaking my own rules by "adding" a set of other wishes? Would I owe HIM wishes, making him become the genie instead of me?
"Ahem. Um, alright. Your wish is my command..." I replied. I decided to just let my mind empty out, snap my fingers, and see where it took me. Maybe there would be life-altering consequences. Maybe it had a tiny effect, and this guy was just stupid.
"You now have...6 negative wishes." I replied.
There was some silence for a couple of seconds.
"So...isn't something supposed to happen?" The man asked. I was taken aback.
"What now? It's YOUR wish. It's not my fault that it doesn't make any sense. Why would you even wish for that?" I asked.
"I dunno. Just wanted to see what would happen." He replied.
Oh my god.
He was simply an idiot.
"Well, because of this, you don't have any...uh...positive wishes left. I suppose I'll have to bid you good day." I told him. He just shrugged, and turned around. It surprised me, to say the least. It's not every day you see a man so emotionless towards a being of magic, much less waste 3 precious wishes.
I prepared to enter my lamp, but something was wrong. I couldn't enter. I tried to materialize my body into smoke, and enter the prison, like I had done 100 times before. But it didn't work. Somehow, I needed to fix whatever this guy did.
"Great. Now I'm stuck here." I groaned, "So, 'Master'. How do you suggest that I cast your 'negative wishes'."
The guy didn't reply to me. He was too fixated on some ancient cave drawings. Why was he even here in the first place? Everything about him still baffled me.
"Hello? Hey! It's your fault I'm still stuck here! Now help me this instant!" I demanded. The male finally turned around.
"I guess I owe you three wishes now." He told me.
"That's not how it works."
"Why not?"
"Because you're not a genie. I'M the genie. I'm bound to give wishes for the rest of eternity. Just because I subtracted your wishes, doesn't put you in a higher position than me."
"How do you know that?"
"Huh?"
"Well, it seems this is the first time this has happened to you. Sooo... how do you know that's not how it works?"
Huh.
I didn't think about THAT either.
This was strange. As a genie, I was always smarter than everyone. I'd outsmarted dictators. Scientists. The occasional prince. How was this simpleton confusing me so much?
"Fine, then. I'll ask for a wish. You grant it, if you're so sure." I told him, "I wish... that I was a human. Go ahead. I'm waiting."
The male snapped his fingers a couple of times. He waited. Nothing. He did it again. Nothing. He made a couple of strange movements. Nothing.
"Guess it doesn't work like that." He replied.
"Come on! I'm not gonna be stuck like this until you die! That wasn't my plan!" I lamented, hovering on top of one of the piles of treasure in the cave.
"What plan?" The simpleton asked. I was angry at him, and had no intention of speaking to him, but I couldn't help myself.
"Well, I always thought that I'd finally meet the alleged "diamond in the rough"... Someone who would eventually give me my wish of becoming a human being. Someone generous enough to look past wealth, and attractiveness, and power. And now, I've gotta wait even longer." I said.
"Oh. I'm sorry." He replied. I snorted.
"Nothing much we can do about it now, anyways. I've just have to wait until you die." I said.
"Well, you can hang with me then!" He exclaimed. I sighed. I had nothing else to do in this life, anyways.
The next 2 years went by in a blur. I learnt the simpleton's story. His name was Aaron Cobbler, and I found out his 6 greatest regrets.
How he flunked out of his second year of college because of the pressure of being too perfect.
How his siblings were always more successful.
How he never found love.
How he ran away from his family, and always felt regret for it.
How he discovered that he was dying of a disease.
and how his real passion was exploring, but he was never able to see it through.
He entered my cave, not for riches, but to prove that his dream was worth following. After that, he came out of that cave a new man. He felt more at peace with himself than ever before.
We travelled the world. Saw the 7 wonders. For the first time in my life I had...fun. And a week after our trip to the Pyramids of Giza, Aaron succumbed to death. Right before I returned back to my lamp, I had finally figured out his wish for negative wishes.
Sure, a part of it was simply due to stupidity. He could've wished for me to become a human. He could've wished for himself to not suffer from a painful disease. But part of me feels like he knew what would happen. Having "negative wishes" was never a thing. The real wish was accomplished right in that cave. The wish made Aaron finally let go of his 6 greatest regrets, his wishes of being who everyone else wanted him to be. In our 2 years travelling, Aaron's parents, siblings, education, love, failed dreams, and the home he ran away from never crossed his mind once.
Why I wasn’t able to enter my lamp in the first place, I still never found it. Maybe it’s because I didn’t know what wish I had accomplished. Maybe Aaron gave me a moment of free will.
I lived the rest of my days as a genie. Nobody ever freed me. Everyone wished for power, wealth and love. Yet, even as the years flew by, I always remembered the one man who made the perfect wish, one that I couldn't twist with a loophole, and one that changed his last remaining years for the better. I'll always respect him for that.
|
The genie stayed stone faced, as he had been since he first appeared. But after a quick blink, the first one I had seen him make, I had realized, his emotionless stare was slowly replaced by a wide grin of recognition. "Wait, hold on," I stammered, "I take it back. What did I just do."
The genie floated silently for a moment, pondering how exactly he should answer that. "Hm. I'm not sure. Perhaps you can tell me? Why, I wish you would..."
"I..." my lips began to move without me even realizing. "I... grant you wishes."
"Very good. Ah, this should be fun. Well, depending on what kind of person you are, I suppose. Let's find out shall we?"
The genie began to float away, and though he was still tethered to the lamp, my body followed him without hesitation. "Well, you just used one. And I used one too, so that's, what, 4 wishes you have left?"
"Oh please," the genie didn't even bother looking at me as he rummaged through my socks drawer, obviously unaware of what he's even looking for, less so of where to find it. "I would only need one to have my fun with this. Speaking of which. I wish for you to show me where I can... how do I word this? Learn what kind of person you are."
I was puzzled, unaware of what he meant or for what purpose, but my legs seemed to be in on something that I wasn't as they began to march down the hall, dragging the genie along by his tail, arms crossed, obviously content. Eventually we made our way to my computer, where my free hand not holding the lamp input the password.
"Hm..." the genie seemed intrigued, "very well then. Show me." Yet my body stayed still, once again under my control. "Oh. A waste of a wish I suppose. Very well, I wish for you to show me what kind of person you are by using this... device." And once again, on cue my body began to move, opening my files, messages, photos, my life laid bare.
"Aaaw," the genie seemed considerably upset, "Hm. You seem to be a good enough person. I suppose I won't ruin your life." The genie unfolded his hands, letting one rest on his chin. "Well, you certainly don't have the power to free me... very well. My last two wishes...
___
A pristine oil lamp sat in Kevin's dining room, the centerpiece of his table. "And that is why I have this oil lamp."
Terry sat across from him, leaning in, hand on his chin and finger over his mouth. He took a deep sigh before sitting back and resting his arms on his thighs. "Wow. I don't believe any of that."
"Yeah, well, his last wish was for me to tell that story to anyone who asks. Didn't have time to tell him no one believes in that crap anymore. You can give it a try if you like, but it hasn't worked to the benefit of anyone yet."
Terry stared at his golden reflection, pondering if he should even indulge this, or just call the psych ward over. But with an even deeper sigh, he got up, and started towards the table.
| 2022-12-09T12:16:43 | 2022-12-09T12:11:00 | 315 | 174 |
[WP] The adventure of a lifetime is over. The heroes have slain demon king, and so begins an era of peace. You, an unaging wizard in the heroes' party, watch from afar as the years turn to decades, and decades turn to centuries, watching as your old comrades slips into tales and legends.
|
The next time I had to save the world, three hundred years after the last of my heroes died, I felt much less confident.
The Demon King had been a more formidable foe than the Dark Magician, but the heroes were orders of magnitude better than the sorry crew they presented me with this time. Those bar songs? They're not exaggerations. Kemdet really could breathe fire. Reth's voice made flowers bloom.
The latest king granted me eleven heroes, and I knew that most were nepotistic appointments - old school friends of his, one of his mother's distant cousins, a couple major donors to his latest campaign in the Vivur Valley, those sorts. I didn't hide my skepticism.
"But you're the Great Ybranu!" the king exclaimed. "You could probably defeat the Dark Magician blindfolded and with no spellbooks!"
Yes, he was stupid. No, you can't use spellbooks when you're blindfolded, so he was being redundant.
"Of course, Your Majesty," I muttered, and he clapped me on the shoulder.
I glared at him, but he didn't apologize. I missed Deio the Giant then. He would have muttered sarcastic comments under his breath.
I led the new heroes through the mountain passes, and it became even more apparent how inadequate they would be. I sighed and shook my head as they struggled to even light fires, much less breathe fire. They got drunk in every inn and made a nuisance of themselves. I rolled my eyes so often that I was genuinely worried they'd get stuck.
By the time we reached the Dark Magician's keep, I'd had enough. When we caught sight of the place, I gave them a stern talking-to about duty, honor, and heroism. They stared at me, wide-eyed, until I'd finished.
"Will there be treasure?" the king's mother's distant cousin asked.
I sighed and gave up. We rode up to the keep wall, where the gate stood unguarded and open. Four of them whooped and ran forward before I could yell, "It's probably a trap!"
They fell through a hidden door and into a dark oblivion. We called down to them, but there was no answer. The remain seven and I pressed on, careful to test for traps in the ground with my staff.
The courtyard was empty too. The stable's hay was moldering, and the coals in the braziers were cold.
"Nobody has been here in a long time," one of the king's school friends remarked, poking the hay with his sword.
They went to one of the keep's posterns then, and they knocked on the door. Nobody responded. They opened it and stepped inside. There were screams. Five of them ran back out, and we waited for the other two for thirty minutes before we went to the front door.
"Wall spike traps," explained the one who'd poked the hay with his sword when I shot him a questioning look.
He was careful about traps this time. He checked the floors and walls before every step. The others lingered behind him. I felt a pang of regret that he was such an insufferable drunk and skirt chaser. He could have been a real hero otherwise.
We climbed up into the tower, the exact place a magician would lurk, hoping to find our quarry. One of them managed to fall out one of the windows when an owl startled him, a level of incompetence that surprised even me.
That left four of them and me when we got to the top of the tower and stepped into a wide, clean room with a fire burning on the hearth and a lush, rug with a beautiful circle pattern on it. I let the four of them go first. No use taking chances on my own safety. They stood in the center of the rug and stared in awe up at the ceiling, which displayed the night sky in detail, a true vision.
That was when I activated the magic circle on the rug. They stared at me in shock as a tempest whipped through my long, dark hair and lightning crackled from my fingertips. I tilted my head back and laughed and laughed and laughed. They pleaded with me. I didn't care. I turned them into forest creatures and carried them, one by one, down the tower and placed them in the woods. I winked at the owl from the tower as I left, and it glared back at me.
"Oh, shut it. I gave them just as many chances as I gave your group, owl. I guess third time's not the charm. I'll keep doing this until they give me real heroes again," I muttered, and I set the traps again before I headed back to the capitol to tell the sad story of my narrow escape from the Dark Magician.
|
Trapped in my prison of earth and roots, I wait, only my thoughts as company.
I was once a great wizard, flashes of memories tell, fleeting and fading in the growing darkness of my once supple mind.
A great wizard, belonging to an even greater King, whose army and knights defeated all evil that stood in their path.
But all good things come to an end.
And that is why I am here; banished and forgotten, but the only one who truly remembers, the only one able to return past glories to reality.
So to my hopes I hold, waiting for the sign. Waiting for the legend to be reborn, stowing away the last of my power for their coming, so that I in turn can be restored, our fates entwined in a deadly balance.
A thousand years I have waited.
But soon, she will come.
And everything will change.
For I am Merlin, and she, the true heir to Excalibur.
r/fatdragon \- I made this one as a kind of prelude to my now finished first draft of my first ever story, Excalibur! It's 130,000 words long , and all on my sub! Hope you enjoy!
| 2021-01-24T07:02:29 | 2021-01-24T06:52:38 | 49 | 15 |
[WP] You're a KGB double agent the CIA sent to infiltrate the FBI who got you join the Mafia who got you a position to sabotage the Yakuza, who placed you in a corporate job to spy on the CEO who wants you to pretend to be the Prime Minister's aide. But they don't know who you really work for.
|
It comes to me, sometimes, that this is more like a quest in a videogame than the life of an international secret agent. You know, the age-old chain of deals. Maybe you're too young to have played a game with one of those in it. What are you, twenty? Ever play Runescape? That had one.
But anyway, it's like this. The Kremlin wants me to infiltrate the Pentagon. The Pentagon wants me in Quantico. Quantico wants me in Sicily, Siciliy wantsme in Tokyo, Tokyo wants me in London.
I'm operating at the highest level of discretion in every one of them. License to kill, double-oh, all that crap. Literally, in fact. You can't be the aide to the Prime Minister if you aren't a part of MI6.
Thank fuck those guys don't want me to go anywhere for them. I was dreading the thought that they'd send me to the Kremlin, and make this whole thing a demented Q shape.
What's that? I think I can hear you say kill? Kill them all?
I honestly, truly wish that this was as simple as killing the head of each organization. But no, it isn't. What I'm dealing with is a complicated network of needs and wishes from each and every group.
You see, Miss Brexit-Means-Brexit thinks a certain Scottish woman was getting a bit uppity about independence. Yeah, see, now you understand why I've kidnapped you. So, I have to lace her evening meal with a blood clotting agent, causing a stroke. She'll step down, and less nationalist elements of her party will take over. In theory.
But, the Yakuza want their gaijin, that's me, to link this back to the Prime Minister. The evidence I'll leave behind will point to me, her aide, a week or two after I disappear. As a result, her assassination (me again) will be linked to the ETA, for her attack on their Scottish brethren.
This will shatter EU-UK relations, and ensure Scottish Independence, with Northern Ireland leaving not long after. As a result, the UK will look further afield for it's exports, specifically turning to the Yakuza's interests in the Japanese tech sector.
However, the success of a gaijin within their ranks will trigger the more xenophobic elements of the Yakuza (people that I've already pissed off, just to make sure), and a civil war will ensue. In the chaos, the Mafia will move in on territories they were already clashing with their Japanese counterparts over.
This success will call for a party. I have to argue, with my newfound position in the American branch of the family, that it should be hosted in America. Whereupon the FBI will swoop down upon this secret gathering of the entire leadership of the Mafia, crippling it for decades to come.
Of course, the Executive Assistant Director for Criminal, Cyber, Response and Services Branch (jesus christ, what a mouthful) of the FBI is gonna be in the surrounding area of this raid, to give a statement to the press about this momentous operation. I have to ensure that a stray bullet takes him out.
Why? Because he's investigating CIA activity on domestic soil. Apart from their limited allowance, this is a big no-no, and if word of this got out, the CIA's leadership would face ejection from their seats at best. Some will probably get jail time. Technically, it's treason, so there's a chance for execution. This is why they want to replace him with a more pro-CIA man.
The Kremlin, meanwhile, makes it easy. I just have to give the details of the operation to Wikileaks. Ensure the word gets out. The CIA will be crippled for at least half a decade.
See what I mean about it being easier to just kill them? Yeah, you get it. Completely bonkers.
Years of work for weeks of action. And then I retire to a nice house in the country, with a generous pension and none of these people the wiser about who I worked for.
You see, none of that was the complicated part of the plan.
You expect the age-old chain of deals to end with you giving the final piece to the first guy who asked for something, right? That's how it usually goes. Everyone will be so busy looking for the group who benefits from the final piece, they won't suspect the innocent bystanders who benefit from every step.
You see, the Yakuza and the Mafia have been causing trouble back home. The police just can't keep up. Taking them out is just a nice big benefit to this whole thing.
The guy the CIA will be pushing for the vacant FBI position? His biggest rival is our man. When their involvement in the vacancy comes out, our guy is a shoe-in.
It's the same with the CIA. The next level down of the leadership, the heirs to the thrones, are all more inclined to work with us than their predecessors.
And of course we'll leak that the CIA's man in the FBI was also a Kremlin man. They're doing all this so they can make some covert moves on Europe, but when that comes out, the CIA's assets will move more heavily against them. So no-one will suspect it when I sneak some files out of the archives. Specifically, their very detailed files on the British Nuclear program.
I'm sorry, I can't actually hear what you're saying through the duct-tape. It's just coming out like mumbling. But let me guess. You're wondering what we'll get out of a diamond-hard Brexit.
It's the simplest thing. Sturgeon's heir has got it into his head that the best way for Scotland to survive outside of the UK is to increase their relations with us. Give it a decade, maybe half, and we'll have the Scottish public convinced that they should join us in a more... fair union. Companies that want access to the Common Market will be falling over themselves to set up in a well-educated, English-speaking EU country, especially one with such a low corporate tax rate.
As a result, we become the new UK. America's trusted ally, a nuclear state, a big name in the EU. But better. We never colonized, we have no former Empire that we cling to. Immediately, we have better relations with the parts of the world that hate the West, because we were victims, just like them. And now we're a big figure on the world stage.
A big old beacon of hope.
And with Scotland, comes Northern Ireland. The Unionists are mostly Scottish in descent. With their ancestral homeland a part of us now, they'd have less qualms about joining up with us again.
And with all the confusion about the Americans, the Italians, the Japanese, the Russian and the British...
Nobody ever suspects the Irish.
|
My parents had dreams of having many children and having each child be a part of a different niche, but I was the only one to come before my mother was diagnosed with Ovarian cancer, requiring surgery. Adoption was out of their reach as they couldn't afford adopting a single child, let alone 5.
So they had me do everything. Football. Band. Debate. Ballroom. You name it. I somehow had the talents to performed well with every single task I did that I'd just put my body on autopilot and think.
After my parents died in car accident I was finally able to choose for myself. I chose IT as my major. Computers were new at the time and so that was something my parents didn't make me do.
My "don't question, do" habit carried over to my romantic life. I got hooked up on many dates and went through so many relationships that shouldn't have started that my 18 year old mind got so fed up I disappeared after Freshman year and went to Europe.
The Soviet Union was still around, although fracturing quite noticeably. I traveled through areas of modern day Ukraine and Serbia, places a little bit more secluded from the Western World.
As I traveled, I assisted many of the locals, with many of the tasks ranging from knitting clothes, auto-mechanics and even help choreograph tryout routines for a ballroom team. I had empty pockets and I couldn't pay for my food and shelter. Now a days many people seem to have forgotten that doing favors is the most universal of currencies.
If was only so long until I ran into a bit of trouble. With my proximity to the USSR, I managed to catch the eye of many KGB Agents, for a man of my talents is the best undercover agent, being able to be anyone and back it up.
They kidnapped me in the middle of the night when I stayed in the home of a young single mother I calmed from an anxiety attack and was able to teach her daughter a bit of ballet.
The KGB was desperate. They were fracturing and I could infiltrate any location for espionage to keep what little of their hold in place. So I returned to a life of technical slavery. I was everyone's slave, their genie. I did what I was told and zoning out on autopilot was easier that fighting back.
The blood stains were awfully hard to get out when I returned to reality every night. Screams echoed but were long forgotten through sleep, as if Deep Freeze was placed on my mind.
I stepped over the starving children, blind widows, and crippled men. They're personal hells displayed almost proudly on their faces. They almost silently say to me a man in higher power, "Hell is all I have, so I am grateful for this one possession you bestowed upon me. You hide yours thinking people will judge you for your weakness, but now they only judge for your cowardice."
The third wish was finally used up. My final mission was to infiltrate the CIA. A return to the continent I left a couple of years before. The life of Samuel Jamison, Alexi Ivanov, Stefan Bauer, Guilherme Antunes, Jacob Sanderson, and Richard Barton was changed. For once I had to be every single one.
| 2016-10-26T22:46:19 | 2016-10-26T21:33:22 | 72 | 11 |
[WP] They year is 2035. A colony is built on Mars. While excavating an area, colonists find a red flag among the red sands. The flag has 4 Latin letters written on it: SPQR
|
Olympus Mons 2035
Theo Malkovich was enjoying himself. He was travelling over the rust-coloured rocky terrain of Mars in a buggy with his beautiful wife Beth alongside him. The beautifully barren landscape created a surprisingly romantic back drop, he could tell through her suit how beautiful she was. He had met her at Princeton in the Physics department and had been a loved-up puppy ever since.
He was a lucky man.
Turning to his left he saw the Colossal Olympus Mons, the lone mountain that stands 2 and half times the height of Everest from sea level. Its size is beyond comprehension or description, it sat there ominously dwarfing the rest of the landscape. As they approached the mountain they fell into darkness and turned on their personal and vehicular lights.
Theo looked at his HUD and made some mental calculations.
“We have maybe 5 hours of Oxygen before we have to start going back to the colony.”
“Ok, we’ll check out that anomaly and get back in time for tea.”
Theo and Beth were both British nationals, part of the reason that they gravitated towards each other in New jersey as neither had been to America before.
“I hope they don’t serve that slop again tonight, my stomach needs proper food soon, that ‘Beef’ has never seen a cow in its life.”
Theo thought back to their cooking lessons Beth had put on in his student accommodation, it usually ended up in a Pizza Hut order but he was just happy to spend time with her. He felt that this memory was a long time ago and a million miles away, but it was more accurately about 250 million miles away.
“We should be coming up on that anomaly soon.”
The pair had been tasked with the recon of a structure at the base of the mountain, the colony was needing to expand as more inhabitants were due in from earth in less than a year.
Beth saw a long thin object appearing to stick out of the ground about 200 m ahead of the buggy, which she brought to a standstill, and the couple dismounted. The wind had picked up in the last couple of minutes, sandstorms were certainly not uncommon on the red planet and there were the early signs of one brewing. Beth started to feel a little disconcerted.
“We don’t want to get caught with our pants down in this, can you radio in to get info on the storm?”
Theo tried to hail the “Sanctuarium”, the UN colony that he and Beth had been stationed at for the last 2 years. The radio was dead.
“I think my radios dead, try yours.”
Beth did and it was the same story. The chances that a storm had formed imbetween the base and them was possible, but this meant that would have to wait it out in the shelter of the mountain. Theo stopped to turn back and get the emergency oxygen supply and survival kit from the rover, it meant that they had 2 days’ worth of oxygen supply before they asphyxiated.
“We’ll find shelter and wait for this to blow over”
Beth was trying to sound reassuring, however the fact that things were quickly turning south was evident by a little quiver in her voice. They turned towards the mountain as the surroundings suddenly illuminated, the sun would have now been visible over the mountain had it not been for the increasing density of the sand.
As the pair approached the anomaly Theo tried to speculate what the item must be, it could be a radio transmitter broken off a craft as it entered the atmosphere, it was very thin. When they were 10 metres out the wind changed direction and a material fluttering became visible at the top of the pole. From what Theo, could tell it was a bird shape with some writing underneath it. Beth and Theo looked at each other incredulously wanting to ask the other if they saw what the other one saw. There was no evidence of any prior SpaceX or UN patrols in the area, and if they had the pole was about 10m tall, with a strange flag at the top. It didn’t make a whole lot of sense.
A slight lull in the sand meant that the flag was briefly visible, Theo made out a gold eagle and the letters S.P.Q.R in gold embellishment underneath. He thought back to his GCSE Latin lessons.
“Senatus Populusque Romanus.”
Beth started to say something as a whirring sound became audible over the whistle of the wind in their suits. Around the pair, floating red lights started to illuminate the sand, their sources obstructed from view. They started to orbit the pair and a voice was audible for a few seconds.
Before Theo had time to recognise the language (which wasn't English), a bright flash blinded him and he fell to the ground, cracking his visor on a large rock. He felt himself slowly slipping out of consciousness with the sounds of oxygen alarms and whirring slowly fading to silence, as a wave of blackness washed over him.
Theo woke up in a white interview room, with his hands shackled to the table. His head felt groggy and his nose had been cut, but there was no blood as if it had been cleaned.He immediately thought he was dead and this was some sort of purgatory, he had been raised Catholic but had never believed in God. There was a door at the other end of the room that had no handle. Apart from that the room was utterly bare. As if suddenly with a shiver Theo noticed the room was cold, his breath steaming and his hands were blue.
The door suddenly opened and a man who was incredibly tanned entered, closed it after him and sat down. He had a sort of see-through iPad that he flicked through pulling faces with each flick. Theo, who was still not convinced he wasn’t dead, cleared his throat. The man started and seemed surprised to find Theo sitting across from him, as if waking from a day-dream.
“Well Mr Malkovich, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The man said in very accented English.
Theo looked at the man closer. He had a fine beard, thick eyebrows and close cropped hair with the most tanned skin he had ever seen, it was more orange than tan.
“Where am I?”
“Dead”
The man kept a straight, dead-pan expression on his face as he said it, putting Theo in a state of panic.
“I’m only joking Mr Malkovich, you are on Mars.”
“Where’s my wife”
Theo felt guilty that he had only just thought of Beth since coming to.
“Your wife is fine, she’s next door and you’ll be able to see her soon, but first I’m sure you have lots of questions, I’m here to answer them and ask some of my own.”
Theo had a million questions, including why this man had SPQR on his jacket. Theo had a feeling he wasn’t just a fan of Ancient History.
“My name is Flavius, I’m an Aedile of Campus Olympus, home of the 3rd Legion of Augustus. I’m here to find out why you are trespassing on Roman soil in clear violation of the “Roman- UN treaty?”
“Ermmmm … you’re Roman?”
Theo wondered how the toga wearing people from Italy had made it to Mars and formed a society un-beknown to the rest of society.
“Look Mr Malkovich I don’t want to tell the Emperor that you’re not complying, he’s in a sort of bad mood today and his lions are due for a feed, it’s never a good combination to introduce bad news to.”
Theo was wondering why there were lions on Mars, he was also wondering what he had gotten himself into. He then felt light headed and blackness engulfed him once more...
What a great Prompt, thanks for the inspiration!
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Yellow stuffing is leaking out of a broken chair, sitting in a mansion of broken dreams, a home to shattered hopes.
After work today, I decided to do some cleaning around the house. My house looks like a cyclone hit it.
In pursuit of my objective, a spotless home, I notice a blue binder which is bulging with construction paper. It's a mess, probably a rat's nest.. I go to check it out.
I lay my latex gloves and wash cloth down, I'm taking a rest.
As my fingers run through the pages, water is flowing down my mind and into my eyes:
2004-2005 - Jessica
Drawings of a lonely child, testaments of a soul longing to be free is what I see. This reminds me of my niece whom I haven't spoken to in quite a few years. She is about the same age I was when I drew the Mona Lisa's in the binder before me.
Today I have multiple felony convictions on my record, tattoos that I sorely regret are burned into my upper chest, a scar is making a deep crease or is itself a canyon in my right ankle. Just the thought of that scar makes me close my eyes and grind my teeth.
CNN showed exclusive footage of Mars this afternoon. I never believed them, not my teachers, not my parents and now not even the bumbling busy workers.. the busy bees on TV, with perfect teeth, perfect hair and perfect lives.
"Back to you Susan"
"We are receiving reports from multiple sources of an alleged crash that occured on the colony of Mars early this morning. Sources tell us that no one is injured but clean up could take some time. We'll keep you posted"
"I'm sorry. We're just, this, this just in: Sources inform us of another nation's flag currently lying beneath the surface of that Red Planet. Signs of aging, wear and tear point to the conclusion: we are NOT the first ones to land on Mars"
*TV zaps off by way of remote*
"That's enough propoganda for today" I retire to the comforting floor below. My cleaning can wait 'til tomorrow. I'm too tired today.
I continue to look through nostalgic drawings from my childhood.. when I notice one drawing in particular. This drawing has a giant red circle on the front. The crayons which fill the circle are drawn in nice and neat; something I did not do and also could not do as a child.
Underneath the curious drawing are the words:
'Mars. Rome. Dreams you have.' in green ink, like that from a pen.
Intrigued I release the "photo" from it's bondage and set it free.
On the back it says:
'SPQR KILLED THE PRESIDENT' in a blue sharpie-like way.
"What the fuck"
"I was a dark kid but not this dark"
"What was wrong with me"
*bells toll*
My watch lights up, a text back from Scott. Yay!
Without giving much thought, without a moments hesitation I glance over at my smartwatch and notice the time is 5:55.. a synchronicity.
I'm then hit with a cluster of updates from many news outlets that I subscribe to.
'BREAKING: President Basiago injured in botched jewelry heist' (CNN) 3m ago
and then another
'BREAKING: President Basiago has been fatally wounded in Richmond, VA' (Reuters) 5m ago
and another
'BREAKING: The President is dead, Mr. Basiago passes away at 63 from com..' (FOX) 2m ago
'BREAKING: The President of The United States has been allegedly assassinated' (Russia Today) 5m ago
'Brandon: Where are my car keys'
My heart has now stopped, my eyes are ticking around the room, adrenaline is coursing through me. My pulse is racing and I'm growing anxious.. I think, allegedly. There's still a chance that this is all a misunderstanding or a hoax, when.
'BREAKING: Virginia declares State of Emergency after President Basiago's assassination outside a Jewerly store'
No longer than I locked my watch, my cell phone rang. The caller ID reads:
'555-0123'
| 2017-02-21T18:43:27 | 2017-02-21T17:25:10 | 85 | 14 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person.
|
The old lady sat across from me in the coffee shop and smiled. Her teeth were uncanny peaks of white, her eyes a brown so intense they were near black. They were very beady. They reminded me of a shark’s as they tracked me for a reaction.
“I don’t know anyone named Charles,” I mumbled.
She nodded, still looking at me. “But you will,” she said emphatically. Her hands were wrapped around a coffee cup with lipstick stains on the lid. I watched her fingers drum the side. Her nails were perfectly manicured in alternating red and greens for the holidays. It looked like a style I’d expect in a 20-something, not a lady that could easily be in her eighties.
“There was a mistake,” she continued. “You should have been told about Charles when you turned eighteen, not twenty-eight. It’s customary for all of us traveled to know our soulmates. When you meet him, you’ll ascend.”
I felt something I hadn’t felt for years rise in the back of my throat: hope. I felt it when she first made eye contact as she entered the coffee shop and I was feeling it again as she spoke.
She knew my age.
It couldn’t just be a lucky guess.
“I’m not a traveled,” I said. I’d said it before, but she’d ignored me—pretended not to hear it.
“Miss Jerian, correct?”
My blood ran cold—there was no way she’d know my name. “Yes, but—”
She pulled out a small moleskin book from the inside of her cranberry peacoat. She pursed her lips as she thumbed through it. The beady eyes darted back and forth before she looked back up. “Charles Lancaster. You’ll meet him in 2070. Well, your 2070; his 1815. It’s complicated. You’ll have twins, which makes sense given the circumstances.”
Twins did run in my family. “But why—”
“Clerical error. It happens more than you’d think, we’re not always so modern.” She tapped her book to make a point. She smiled again, thankfully a close-lipped one.
“Will we stay in his time or mine?” The words tumbled out and I felt that feeling in my throat again, a tickle of hope that was becoming a wave. I’d tried to swallow it, but it refused to stay down: I was special.
She shook her head. “I can’t say. I’m not a fortune teller, I just read your timeline.”
“Is he wealthy?”
She just looked at me, smiling. She took a sip from her coffee after a few moments of silence as I processed it all. “You know,” she said, “It’s right before I first traveled.”
“1815?”
“Yes. It’s a beautiful time. But be prepared for New York to smell.” She laughed and I found myself laughing a little too.
“That explains the book,” I finally said.
“Yes, some of the newer folks use technology. But I always preferred a good ledger. It works when I was born and it works now.”
“Do you have any more details?” I couldn’t help but pry, even though I knew it was not protocol from all the classes I’d taken in high school. Only a handful of people became chosen, but we were all educated on the concept. The first traveler appeared in 2020, but they had been around for centuries prior. They lived in between epochs and aged slowly, unable to die from natural causes. They kept their identities hidden and only told those on their eighteenth birthday when they would be old enough to recognize the need to secrecy.
“In 2070, all will become clear,” she said. Another flash of her bright teeth as she put her ledger back into her front pocket.
It was only a year away. Next Christmas, I would meet Charles. He’d take me away from the nihilism, the corporate culture. I wouldn’t have to deal with any more one-night stands. I could move out of my dingy studio apartment.
I could abandon my student loan debt.
“I need to go now,” she said. “We’ll talk again, after you meet him.”
I stood as she stood, still dizzy with excitement and numb with possibility. “Thank you,” I said, grabbing her hand and holding it in mine.
“It’s no problem, Miss Jerian.”
“You can call me Sarah,” I replied. “After all, you just changed my life. No need for formalities.”
The beady eyes suddenly looked away, then she pulled away her hand sharply. “Sarah? Sarah Jerian?”
“Yes?”
She paused. Her eyes refused to meet mine.
I waited for her to say anything.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but could have only been a minute, she cleared her throat.
“I need to speak to your twin sister—Emily. Do you know where she is?”
\--
&#x200B;
***(Meh, not happy with this, but 20 minute writing sprints are fun at least!)***
|
“He sat down at the stool next to me and slid an envelope in front of me as he did. He said it didn’t matter if I looked inside the envelope or not, I wouldn’t understand what it was for some time. He place a small folded piece of paper on top of the envelope.
‘I need you to deliver this.’ He said.
With that, he got up and walked out of the bar without giving me a chance to speak.
At first I thought he had the wrong person, then I unfolded the paper.
‘This guys has to be insane.’ I thought.
‘June 5th, 2070’
‘Henry Willard’
‘11 Wall St, New York, NY 10005’
Does he want me to pass this down my family?!
I looked into the envelope and saw what I can only describe as a black box that says ‘SanDisk 128TB USB 5.0’ and has a tiny switch on the side.
I was brought back to reality when I realize I should give this back to the man because he clearly gave it to me by mistake or something. I ran out of the bar and saw him walking across the street. I ran out without thinking and didn’t even hear the bus.”
“That was in 1946, here’s your package Mr. Willard.”
(I normally lurk, I’m not that good at writing, please be gentle)
| 2018-12-24T10:45:45 | 2018-12-24T10:04:15 | 79 | 50 |
[WP] A story about two people who, despite having only a brief interaction, have a grand impact on each other's lives.
Any characters. Any genre. Good or bad.
|
The guy walked across the bridge. The night was dark and the rain further reduced the visibility to nearly zero. He was almost at the middle of the bridge when a car turned and the headlights illuminated a figure standing on top of the bridge's railing. The guy immediately understood what the person meant to do.
"Hey, hey you." He didn't see any cars so he ran across the bridge to the dim shadowy figure.
The figure was startled and turned around to look at the guy. The guy could make out a young face with blonde hair sticking out from under a cap.
"Hey kid, what the hell do you think you are doing?"
"Move along mister. This has nothing to do with you."
"Well, it has something to do with me now. I am not letting you kill yourself."
"Ok, listen, I know you think you are doing a good deed here. But it is my life and I have every right to end it."
"I completely agree. But come on this is basic human decency. I am standing here right now and a couple of cars have already passed. Some of them will remember a guy standing here when you killed yourself. I just made a phone call so I will probably be tracked here as well. The cops might mistake me for a murderer. If you kill yourself, you might be killing me too."
"Well then why don't you go away."
"Doesn't matter. The weather is pretty bad today and will be just as bad tomorrow. So it is unlikely that your body will be found till the day after. After all that time, it will be difficult to determine the exact date and time of your death. I will still be screwed."
"So what do you want me to do?"
"Well, I know that you plan to kill yourself. And I absolutely cannot stop you if you are determined. If I force you to stop now, you'll just do it tomorrow when I am not here."
"That is correct."
"So, all I say is, do it tomorrow instead. Or better yet, the day after. When the weather is clear. At the very least, please wait till I am gone. And I will make a phone call that will prove I am far away from here when you jumped. And we can figure out something to absolutely prove that you are alive after my phone call. Less chance of incriminating me that way you see."
"Why do I care what happens to you? I will be dead and gone."
"But you see, I think you do care. Otherwise you would have jumped already."
"I don't mean anyone any harm. I just don't see any reason to continue living."
"I feel you. And who better to know how shitty your life is than you. So rest assured, I think if you want to kill yourself, I am totally with you. Go ahead. It's just that I don't think I am ready to be hanged or electrocuted."
The kid looked unsure. But he climbed down from the railing. He still stood a few feet away from the guy. Enough that he would be able to jump on to and then off of the railing if there were any sudden movements. The guy noticed this as well.
"No, no, as I said, I won't stop you. Trust me on this kid. If you want to jump, you have my full support."
"Ok, I won't promise that I am not jumping though. I don't want to harm you, but if it comes to, I won't hesitate to either."
"Ok, look here kid. See this arm. I had a bad accident a few years back. This arm is at about 25% strength. So if it comes to it, you'll be able to fight me off anyways. So I am not even going to try this."
"So what do you want?"
"Did you leave a suicide note?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Well I don't really have much to say."
"Do you have a family?"
"Yeah, of course."
"You look young. Do you live with your mom and dad?"
"I live with my mom. My parents are divorced. So my dad doesn't live with us."
"But do you talk to him? Are you guys close?"
"Yeah. We talk almost every day."
"Then you need to leave a suicide note at least."
"But why?"
"Well what happens when you die without any reason? Your mom might blame herself. Your dad might blame himself. Are you on good terms with them both. Like I hope you don't hate your mom or anything"
"No, I like them both. They have always been good to me."
"So you don't want them to blame themselves right. Take it from me, uncertainty is the worst thing. They will imagine a hundred things they did that caused you to do this. And their lives will be ruined. So at least give them closure. And save them from guilt."
"I didn't think of that."
"Well, now you have. Do you have a pen and a paper? I can deliver your note if you want."
"No. But I can email them."
"How? Do you have your phone on you?"
"Yes."
"Well that's great. That also solves the problem of how I get myself an alibi. Once I am gone, you can shoot out a sort of suicide note. And then kill yourself. So remind me why you are killing yourself again?"
"Well it's a bit hard to explain."
The guy sat on the top of the railing using one of the supporting beams to steady himself.
"We got time."
|
It was one of those days where your breath would freeze in a cloud before you, where the wind would numb your cheeks and sting your ears. I shrugged my coat tighter around me as I clutched my coffee, warming my frozen hands through the waxed paper. "Excuse me, sir, you dropped a quarter."
He was a towering mountain of a man, with a beard reminiscent of the Tolkien dwarves. A T-shirt and jeans were all that shielded him from the chill of winter, but he did not shiver as he held out the coin. I took it, muttering my thanks. He clapped me on the back. "You look kinda miserable there. Are you alright?"
We sat down at a bench and I talked about how I was locked in a 9-5 job, supporting a wife who didn't love me. About how my health was declining, my hair was going, and how nobody at work respects me. He listened through it all, looked me in the eyes, and gave me some advice that I'll never forget.
"No matter how tough things look, it will get better. You have a job. You have a house. You can afford to sit here and enjoy a cup of coffee when it's this cold out. Me? I work construction. I can't afford a coat. But I look on the bright side. I've been seeing this beautiful woman who loves me for me for a few months now. Sure, I may not have it all, but I need to look on the bright side more than ever. If you keep your chin up, you will pull through."
He left, and I drank my coffee in silence, wondering when, if ever, I'd see him again. The answer to that was later that afternoon, when I found him in bed with my wife.
[subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/)
| 2017-11-20T12:04:30 | 2017-11-20T12:02:52 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] Aliens, who can communicate with any life form, have been interviewing our pets to determine what humanity is like.
|
Buddy wasn't really sure what was going on. This place smelt different. It smelt very different. No familiar smells to follow home like that one time he got excited and chased the red metal monster down the road. Robert made extra sure the gate was shut after that day, but he hadn't seemed mad. Just as happy as Buddy had been, wagging his tail excitedly to see his human.
"So...this 'Robert'. He...owns you? Like a slave?" The thing that had introduced itself as Dalen repeated back earning a confused head tilt from the golden retriever before him.
"Not really owns...he's family but he's leader." Buddy responded. Was there a way to put it into dog terms? Robert never seemed to think of him as a slave. If he was a slave, he was a spoilt one. He got to sleep on the couch even though he wasn't allowed to do that over at Nanna's. And as long as no other humans were around, Robert would sneak him some of the good food like they still lived with Preston. Preston hadn't liked him being on the couch either.
"What's Robert like?" Xindar asked leaning in close. They looked kind of like Robert but also very different. Buddy's tail still wagged though because he liked meeting new people. It meant pats though these two strangers didn't seem to understand that.
"Robert's the best. He brings me food every day. And sits by me while I do my business to keep me safe." Buddy loved every morning with his best friend. Robert usually woke up first and even though neither of them wanted to get out of bed, he'd drag himself up. Then he'd get his hot drink and stare out the window for a bit. Buddy would eventually trail behind and then they'd have breakfast outside. They were lovely, lazy mornings.
"He does abandon me in the middle of the day. I don't know where he goes..." The two strangers shared a pointed look, so Buddy knew he had to quickly correct them.
"But it must be somewhere awful. He must have to fight something more dreadful than the vacuum because when he gets home, he looks so exhausted." Buddy *hated* the vacuum. It was loud and scary, but he tried to fight it because Robert never seemed to be able to defeat without his help. "But he doesn't go to sleep when he gets hope. He gets the biggest smile the second he sees me and then we go for a walk!"
"We'll have to look into what a vacuum is." Dalen suggested to its friend. But Buddy was talking about walks now. Walks were *way* better.
“When we walk, he lets me sniff so many things. And when we get to the park, he’ll even start to run with me so we can quickly get to the area where I don’t need my harness anymore. Then we run and run and run!”
Buddy began to bark; he couldn’t help it. It was just so exciting to think about, prancing in place as his tail wagged happily. No matter how tired Robert was, he always took him for a walk. Then when they got home, they’d have dinner and lie on the couch together. If Buddy still wanted to play, Robert would half-heartedly wrestle with the various toys he had brought Buddy over the years.
“Robert is the best. He’s my family and my best friend. I want to be with him forever.” Buddy happily declared not knowing how to put into words just how much he loved his human.
“Thank you for answering our questions, Buddy. We’ll take you back to Robert now.” Dalen informed him. There was a strange sensation. Kind of like when Robert took him in the friendly white monster that went to the beach. Soon there were familiar smells, the ones that told him he was home. Robert was still asleep though he looked a little cold in that big bed by himself. Buddy made sure to lay down as close as possible once the strangers had let him back inside. His ear twitched as he heard them one last time before they left.
“Strange, the cat gave us a very different description of humans.”
|
“They’re idiots.” Mikey said plainly. “Ugly too. But I guess that can be said about most of the lifeforms on this planet, if I’m being completely honest.
Mikey yawned and stretched before continuing. “They do have their uses, though, so they’re not *completely* worthless. They’re easily trained too. You can teach them all kinds of tricks, even get them to do some very basic chores. Nothing to complicated, mind you. They are easily confused being as simple as they are and all. They’ll provide you with adequate food pretty reliably with minimal reminders or encouragement. They are good bed warmers and are passable groomers.”
Mikey scratched behind his ear and yawned again. “All in all, humans are generally tolerable and make decent enough pets.”
| 2021-09-16T03:11:40 | 2021-09-16T00:42:20 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!”
|
I was walking down a long, vast hallway, my shoes clacking on the dark marble floors. I had just got off an elevator that stopped on every single floor before mine, and no one had gotten on or off. Why was I here again? Right. A meeting. Why the fuck am I going to a meeting? I don't give a fuck about my job. I'm pretty sure this isn't even my building. It's so.. empty. The air feels stale and the cielings are so tall I can't even see them. Whatever.
I came to a stop outside a door. I don't know how I knew this was it, but I knew it was. I started to knock, but getting here was a bitch and I didn't really care to wait. I entered a large room with an elongated glass table in the center. There were eight in total. In the center stood a ridiculously beautiful man. on either side stood the oddest collection of colorful women I'd ever seen. They were so wildly different, and yet something seemed oddly familiar about all of them.
On the right sat a tall golden woman, nude other than the incredible jewels adorning every inch of her. An unremarkable blue woman sat slouched next to her, her eyes seemed glazed and unfocused. The third was an impossibly large woman, her color reminded me a little of vomit, currently inhaling the platter in front of her that was piled with every kind of junk food you could imagine. Her face and fingers were covered in grease and artificial dust, and the sounds she made as she endlessly ate were grotesque, almost sexual. A green woman clung to the left of the man in the center, glaring at me suspiciously as I entered.
On the other side of the man a purple woman sat impossibly tall, staring down her nose at me. Next sat a pink woman wearing a sheer dressing gown lined with fu that left little to the imagination. She appeared to be bouncing in her seat slightly, her mouth slightly agape, I realized that some of the noises I thought were coming from the other woman seemed to be coming fr-- I glanced at her seat under the table. oh. ...Right here? huh. Next to her, a red woman who reminded me of a barbarian. Her hair was piled high, teased, and her face was covered in war paint. She held a trident in her hand that appeared to be coated in rather fresh blood. The seat next to her appeared to be empty.
"Welcome." The man in the center spoke with a soft voice. He smiled at me, he was charming.
"She's late." The purple woman's lip was curled in a sneer. She seemed so familiar.
"Now, now. It's merely her nature," he said to her, as he wrenched himself out of the grip of the now pouting green woman. "My name is Lucifer, and you have no idea how long I have waited for you."
"...Thanks. Where am I, again?" I looked around casually. I had tried to remember my name but it all seemed so hazy now. I couldn't tell you anything about myself if I tried.
He chuckled, and began walking towards me, slightly reminiscent of a predatory cat. "You, my love, are in Hell, where you belong."
"Yeah, hey, fuck you too buddy." *Rudeass.*
"You misunderstand. You're not here to be punished, you're here to be celebrated. You are no ordinary woman. You see, you are very special. I'm sure you've noticed my muses." He gestured to the women around him, "They are my greatest treasures. My most wonderful accomplishments. My.. deadly sins." He smiled a dangerous smile as he began slowly circling me. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he picked up some of my hair and inhaled slowly, letting out a lascivious sigh.
"You, my dear, are my eighth. My newest addition."
"...What? I mean, I know I wasn't a saint or anything, but I was alright."
He barked out a laugh, joined by the women behind him.
"Oh no. See that is what I love about you. You are different. You are *subtle.* My silent assassin. You are what I will use to bring about the end of the earth. The end of the Almighty's reign." He spat the word almighty as if it burned his tongue to even say.
"You see, you are in everyone. Did you ever wonder why, at the sight of the great injustices in the world, the people did not simply stand up and fix them? Why they continued to let corrupted powers stand in place? It was you, my sweet night sister. You looked on at the systemic racism plaguing your country and did nothing."
"And what the fuck am I supposed to be able to do about systemic racism?" I protested
He continued as if I weren't even there. "You saw companies like Nestle, using slave labor and stealing sources of water from impoverished countries and not only did nothing, but continued purchasing from them."
"They're kind of a monopoly if you haven't noticed." I crossed my arms stubbornly.
"You saw the way your kind treated the creatures of the earth and continued consuming them regardless."
"Yeah well, steak is delicious. You get me, right?" I waggled my eyebrows towards the huge woman but she never once glanced up from her endless gorging.
"You saw your fellow woman being assaulted on a train and not only left without saying anything, but you didn't even call for help afterwards."
"I guess I thought someone else would..." My sentence trailed off.
"You see, you are so much better than the rest. You come up with your excuses, but in the end.. you just don't care. These things didn't affect you, so why bother, right? Well, you've finally come home, and I couldn't be happier. Soon you will come to see the beautiful creature that you are. Please, join us." He held out his hand to me and smiled. I glanced at the women behind him and the gears finally clicked in my head. The reason they all looked so familiar. Their faces. We were identical. I glanced down as I reached for his hand. Mine was grey.
"Welcome, Apathy, my love."
|
Hollow clapping and sickening laughter echoed through the long hallway that Dolion stood within. Before him lay 9 thrones consecutively placed along the hallway, each more sinister than the last. Dolion glanced behind him at the entrance of the hallway. Countless gloomy faces stared at him, blocking any chance of escape. Reluctantly, Dolion marched forward into the damned hallway.
At the first throne, truly more of a chair, sat a skeleton in rags. The empty sockets of the skull focused on Dolion. They seemed to jeer at the medallion hanging around his neck.
"Give me your trinket" projected Envy.
"I will soon, but for now it belongs to me." replied Dolion as he turned and headed to the next throne. Each step was more burdensome than the last, for Dolion's soul carried many things that could no longer be relieved.
"How can you carry such weight? I could never begin to..." whispered Sloth, unable to finished his sentence.
"It worries me not, I feel no effect," Dolion stated as he passed the decrepit body in the second throne. As he approached the third throne, he heard a shrill whine.
"Won't you stay with me just for a moment? It's been so long since someone new has entered these halls. Sloth won't participate, and Pride isn't interested in me! I just need a taste," Lust called out. Her gorgeous fur quickly coalesced into scales, then flattened into skin. She crossed her hooves which then morphed into a tail.
"I can be whatever you like," said Lust through grinning teeth.
"I do not wish to be delayed to my fate," Dolion sighed. However he stared deeply into Lust's ever-shifting form as he passed by. As he passed the rest of the thrones, Dolion ignored each Deadly Sin. He truly wanted this to be over, but he would be lying to himself if he thought this wasn't his eternity. Finally he arrived the last two thrones. One of the thrones was empty, in the other sat the greatest monstrosity.
"You have arrived," Lucifer stated, "Just in time."
The lord of Hell glared at Dolion, sizing him up and down. A smile crept to his face. Each moment Dolion gazed at Lucifer's twisted smile, a lifetime of torture and sorrow swept through his mind.
"You will serve me well as the newest Deadly Sin. Currently you are the strongest until Disgrace or Sacrilege arrive. Your essence will help stir the mortal world deeper into chaos, and you will feel the pain every time someone commits your sin. Now, sit upon your throne, cast away your mortal name and acquire the title," Lucifer paused, "Deceit."
| 2019-01-12T23:31:23 | 2019-01-12T22:50:31 | 111 | 14 |
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