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[WP] You have the ability to see people’s kill count on their head. You tell no one, managed to stay away from shady people and live a peaceful life. One day, your 5 years old kid’s number is not 0...
|
My friend had this kid who had the number one dangling over his head like an exclamation mark. Like a warning. I didn't tell me friend about this for years. What do you say to someone whose kid has a one? *Hey, you know your only child who you love dearly? Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news but he murdered someone. Nope, can't tell you who, just that he did. Well, cheers, let's get another round.*
I'm not very smart but I'm smart enough to not say something so dumb as that.
He was a twitchy kid, pale, tall, spent too long indoors if you ask me. Had no friends. He was eleven when I first met him, when he came to the bar with his dad 'cause there was no one at home to look after him. Youngest kid I'd ever seen with a one hanging over them. It looked like a rope heading down to his neck, ready to curl around it.
I can't say I was ever nice to the boy. Why should I be? I was cruel instead, at least when I could get away with it. If I saw him running home from school in a storm, I'd drive straight past. Why would I give a murderer a lift, or shelter from the rain? It felt like he deserved my petty cruelties.
I tell you this because it seems somehow relevant. See, last night at dinner I see that same rope-like one hanging above my son's head. Above my own kid's head!
My kid is five. He was only over with me for the weekend and hadn't even out the house during the day so how the hell could he have a one above his head?
I questioned him. I'm not proud to say this but I questioned him until he cried and then until I cried. The numbers are never wrong -- everyone I've looked into, that I've been able to track down, has led to an old murder. You got a number over your head, you've killed another human.
I love my son. So what the hell had he done?
"You can tell me," I said, at the same time knowing how dumb it was to speak to a five year old like this. He couldn't have killed anyone. Right?
And yet he must have.
​
I told my friend about his son in the end -- or at least, I made my friend confess. His kid was sixteen then. Me and my friend were hitting it hard in an old English pub that sold ale fit for melting your heart. I wasn't in a good place at the time -- my wife had taken the kid and left recently. Her leaving was on me but what could I do apart from drink and feel sorry for myself? It felt like my only option. I still loved her and I loved my kid, I just hated myself.
My friend, on the other hand, was going toe-to-toe with me just because I needed a friend. He was a single father, like me, but he'd been in the situation for years longer. He was used to it, I guess. And he understood my pain.
The ale soon dissolved my inhibitions and I got to thinking about his kid. About the number hanging over the boy's head and how it came to be.
"What if your child turned out to be a murderer?" I said, as nonchalant as I was capable of being.
"What?" he said.
"Hypothetically I mean. If your kid murdered someone -- another kid, maybe, or anyone really -- would you stick by them? I'm not sure I'd defend my child if that happened."
He looked at me but said nothing, then got up and went to the bar to fetch another round.
A while later the thought crosses my mind again and I push the conversation where I really shouldn't. "Say," I say, "you didn't answer earlier. If your kid was responsible for a death, what you would do?"
And then he tells me everything. It pours out like the ale.
When his boy had been born there had been complications. Sometimes these complications take years to manifest, but sometimes, cruelly, they're quicker than consciousness. His mother hadn't even seen him before she passed away.
My friend didn't blame him one bit. In his son, he saw his wife. He loved his son more than anything.
So I sat there saying nothing for a long time, sipping my ale but suddenly only tasting the sourness.
"I'm sorry," I said.
"You weren't to know."
​
​
It wasn't until after dinner, after me and my boy had been crying, until after I put him in his bed, that the conversation with my friend came back to mind.
I called my estranged wife. Just to check on her. I'd make some excuse, tell her our son was missing her.
I called and the phone rang.
She was okay. I was sure of it.
But a thought kept tapping at my skull. About how complications can take years to manifest.
The phone kept on ringing.
|
Holy Crap.
My daughter, Louise, had gained 1 count on her head.
And I knew what that meant.
──── ◉ ────
"Oh no..." I rubbed my face and went out to the garden. Seeing a yellow school bus approaching, I put my hands on the hips and waited.
"Maaaaaaaaami!!!" Lou jumped out of the door once it opened.
"Hey, sweetie. What did you do today?" I saw the new count number in terror.
"I talked with Kessi, Léa, Ms. Goldberg and.. what's wrong, mommy?"
"Did you touch anything sharp?"
"No."
"Did someone get hurt?"
She sealed her mouth.
I said in calmest tone as ever. "Tell me what happened."
"I...stepped on a bee." Her eyes watered. "Kessi was screaming, and everyone was scared. Ms. Goldberg wasn't with us, so..."
She went silent, my heart went lighter.
"I'm *sorry*, mami." She sobbed. Her noses and cheeks blushed and her mouth dragged down as a steep curve.
"It's okay, sweetie." I hugged her. "Did you bury it?"
"Yes, Ms. Goldberg put it outside the garden."
──── ◉ ────
"A life is a life, and shall be remembered, well-kept as a memory in our heart." Wrote this of thinking of something funny and also you guys will know the reference of stepping a bee (shrug) Hope this didn't offend anyone here.
| 2022-10-21T07:13:28 | 2022-10-21T06:39:43 | 423 | 161 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives...
|
My first time posting here. Hope you enjoy!
**************************************
I think it was my birthday. I wasn’t sure – birthdays hadn’t meant anything for years, but I think it was my 18th birthday.
So, here I was, a slave who just turned 18. It all happened after the invasion. My parent were simple farmers living outside the village. I was happy back then. I helped my Da in the fields while my Ma and my sister cooked the meals and kept the house.
Rest-day was the best – me and Da would get cleaned up after working in the dusty fields all week while the women cleaned away the dishes. We’d gather around the village bonfire with our neighbors, and the music would play and everyone danced! It was magical!
Back then, turning 18 was a gift. You’d reach out, and something wondrous would come to you. For my Da, it was my Ma. That was rare – getting a soulmate was special. Most people got things, but very special things. Like, the magister of the village got a gavel. No-one could ever lie to him, and justice was fair and equal. The seamstress got a needle, and could sew so fast her hands were a blur, and never made a mistake.
But then the invasion happened. It was quick and bloody. My Da was killed, my Ma was taken away to the kitchens were she was later beaten to death because she served some soup that was too cold. I was 12 when that happened. My sister was sent to the camps, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.
The village was burned, men and elders killed, women and children enslaved. I was sent to the officer’s section. I polished boots, ironed uniforms and did all the odds jobs no-one else wanted. I slept in dirt and was beaten daily. I was painfully thin and wore rags. My days were spent trying to avoid notice, and I was fairly good at it. It's the reason I was still alive – I didn’t look older than maybe 14 or 15, and was skilled at being overlooked. Of all the boys my age who had been enslaved that fateful day, I was the only survivor.
Odd how the summoning had changed since then – before, you never knew what you’d get, but you knew it would be wonderful and joyous. Now, it was poison every time. The invaders learned quickly to keep an eye on the girls on their day of summoning – too many young women drank the poison before it could be snatched away.
I guess they forgot about me. They certainly didn’t care if I lived or died. My existence was meaningless and empty, and from what I had seen, the poison was quick and painless. You’d fall asleep as soon as it passed your lips, and a few minutes later, you were gone. Quickly and peacefully.
I did my chores that night with only one ringing slap to my head. I crept away and waited until the camp was quiet. I held out my hand, ready for the poison to take me away from this horrible life.
Nothing happened. Maybe I was wrong about my birthday? I don’t think so. I tried again, and I felt something, but… still nothing. One more time, straining, crying, tears streaking my grimy face, please take me away! I sobbed uncontrollably, foolishly getting the attention of one of the guards. “Oh, so it’s yer’ summoning, is it boy? Good – looks like I’m the one who’s getting a present….” and he trailed off in silence. Softly at first, then growing louder, it was hard to tell what the sound was. At first it was just the ground shuddering faintly, but it got stronger. You could hear metal clinking, and something that sounded like sticks banging together. The guard forgot about me and ran into the camp, raising the alarm.
The invaders had been at war for a long time, and were good at it. Lines formed quickly, but they were not prepared. No one could ever prepare. The attacking army was ruthless, unrelenting and completely unstoppable. The screams were terrible. The invaders were butchered. Every soldier had been torn to pieces within the hour.
When it was over, only the slaves were still alive. As one, the conquerors turned to face me, placed one hand over their hearts and dropped to a knee, all bowing in allegiance.
I had summoned an army. An army of those killed unjustly by the invading horde. The undead army stood before me, victims no more, but victors out for justice. I would avenge my family, my village, and my life.
|
It’s my eighteenth birthday party. My mom skateboards out of the hallway with a cake. My father has been dead for 10 years because the town bully punched him to death. We both cry over this. We eat the cake. I have no friends because I am too unique and moody for friends. I only have a pillow pet to keep me company.
My mom tells me “Son it is time for you to open your hand and wait for your soulmate to break through the window”. She pulls out her soulmate, a rubber duck. She says” Son, this rubber duck did not help me fight off your fathers attacker and I am so ashamed for it”. I hope you get something good.
Nothing came and it made me very sad. I walk around town with hand open for days. Eventually town bully who killed my Father walks up to me and says “ I am going to punch you in the head to death just like I did your father”. He starts beating me up. My mom throws her soulmate to no avail.
I almost die but then I hear something coming. I reach my hand up to the sky waiting for my soul mate. Everyone in town is terrified when they see a Boing 747 plummeting out of the sky. It lands on me and explodes, killing everyone in town. The end.
| 2019-09-18T09:45:02 | 2019-09-18T08:47:50 | 71 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone in the world knows a secret, a secret they all must keep from you...something you must never, ever know.
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"C'mon, I *know* that there's something you guys are keeping from me." I blinked back tears, looking at my friends. They all stared at the table, avoiding my gaze. They weren't even *denying* it! "Fine, if you guys won't tell me, I'll find someone who will." I got up to leave, but Josh took me hand before I could. "What?"
"Don't even try, Sarah... no one's going to tell you." I glared at him, and jerked my hand out of his grip.
"If you loved me, Josh, you would tell me." I turned my back to him, not listening to his response. I tried to walk away, but found myself running, as fast as I could, through the crowded food court. I burst out the doors and kept running, as fast as I could, to the one place I could think of- the park.
~~~
"Hello." I jerked up, looking towards where the voice had come from. It was an old man, standing to my side. I ignored him and looked back at the bark chips beneath my feet, gently swinging back and forth on the abandoned swingset. I didn't care what anyone had to say to me at this point. "I know you heard me, Sarah." This caught my attention.
"How the hell do you know my name?" I glared up at him, taking in his wrinkled features. I'd never seen this man before in my life.
"Everyone in the world knows your name, Sarah."
"What? How?"
"We need to know your name, your face. There's a secret we have to keep from you- and only you."
"What the hell are you talking abou-"
"You've asked everyone you know, they haven't told you, but have they denied it?" I was speechless. "That's what I thought." He sat down on the swing next to me, groaning as he did so. He must've been in his late 70's.
"Okay, so, there's a secret that no one's ever going to tell me- I'm betting you're not going to tell me, either, so piss off. I'm not in the mood to talk to an old geezer right now."
"I will tell you. Give me time." I looked over at him, confused- if the entire *world* had to keep this secret from me, then why was he going to tell me?
"How can I even know you're telling the truth, old man? For all I know you're just some crazy old git who lives up the street and creeps on me."
"You know that isn't true, Sarah." I looked down, gulping. He was right.
"Why can't anyone tell me?"
"Because the knowledge will destroy you. I'm hesitant to tell you, but you will eventually find out sometime- delaying the information will only make it harder to hear. We've already delayed it for eighteen years- that's more than long enough, in my opinion." I started at the fact that he knew my age, but realized everyone must know it, if there's some secret they're keeping from me.
"Just tell me, please, and get it over with..." I was dreading the information. If it was going to destroy me... what could it possibly *be*?
I heard him take a deep breath. "Sarah..." I looked him straight in the eye, waiting for the answer. "You're alone in this world." What?
"What do you mean? I don't like, have a soulmate or something?"
"No, not like that. You're *alone*. No one you've ever met is real. I'm not real. Look deep in yourself- you know this to be true. Remember all those friends who would disappear after only a few days? All the times you seemed to look at your parents, *swearing* that they had looked different the day before?" He kept going, but I was no longer listening. He was right... I'd never truly seen anyone's face, not even his, as soon as I looked away, it would be muddled in my memory, and looking back would provide me with a different image- I'd always ignored it, thinking it was something that everyone saw.
"Shit... *shit*!" I was breaking down into tears. Everything I had ever known was a lie, everyone I had ever known was a lie- what the fuck even was my life if I made everyone up?! Who the fuck was I?
I still wonder to this day.
|
I'm not a story-teller or a writer, but here's the direction I'd take this one:
Finally some self-aware politicians have gotten in charge of things. So self-aware are they that they realize that no one who wants to be a politician is fit to run the country. Douglas Adams thought the only person fit to be president is he who has absolutely no desire to be so, but in fact even such a person would be corrupted by his power like anyone else.
Snowden was also wrong; it was for all of our best interests that the masses of personal data were gathered. With advanced algorithms they found the most level-headed and knowledgable citizen. Policy makers are compelled to follow his opinions, and not let him know, at all costs.
The problem is things are going too well in the country. For several years the government has been doing exactly what the man wished they would, completely contrary to his experience up to that point. And he's starting to feel suspicious ...
| 2014-05-14T06:50:57 | 2014-05-14T06:40:40 | 113 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens invade Earth. Turns out Human weapons technology is way more advanced than it should be.
|
Planet 3 NessaSpo (“Earth”)
MISSION STATUS: Completed
MISSION SUCCESS: Unsuccessful.
Covert Agent Placement Failed,
Population Control (Somnulent) Failed,
Population Control (Hydraulic Hostage) Failed.
DETAILS: A highly destructive bio and neuro agent, “caffeine”, native to Planet 3 NessaSpo (“Earth”) is pervasive in population centres, being drunk in various forms at nearly every meal as a social and recreational measure. (See xenoanthopology report 6 Asta: “Recreational Poisons” and 12 HugonLe “Anti-Sleep Measures— the destruction of cycadian rhythm as pack-bonding action” and 23 MarkelSetFron “Earth Economic Systems: High Caste Survival via Low Caste Self Sacrifice: a genetic theory”.).
Covert Agents who ingested the bio agent lost all control of shape shifting abilities, continuing to rapidly change form until death, which in the majority of cases took place within the *Telket*, but in one instance did not take place for almost 7 *Telket*, or four “Earth” days. (See Field Report 8: The Capture of “Dublin” Agent Osken,) This caused an immediate mortality rate among agents of nearly 62%. Those agents who did not ingest the “caffeine” were rendered inoperable within 16 Telket when contact exposure to the “caffeine” caused pervasive hallucinations, paranoia, insomnia, circulatory system failure, and respiratory collapse. 3 of the remaining 700 agents were recovered from the surface before death. Attempts to develop an antidote failed, and two of the three expired in quarantine here. Lit Agent Mersyel survived, which the medical department attributes entirely to xie’s off-market neuro system upgrades and xie’s demonstrated history with recreational neurotoxins as an undergrad (see attached transcript of xir’s fourth court martial for conduct unbecoming and BLACK SEVEN OLYEN Classified file detailing xie’s family connections and their opinion on said court martial). The medical department assures that the agent’s survival is not replicatable in any more than 0.0000000000000000002% of the active duty population. (See medical assessment 73 ErtelFan: Lit Agent Mersyel A.4, and medical assessment 109 Ta: Economic and Legal analysis of Lit. Agent Mersyel’s recreational history.)
As the majority of the world’s population had seen media evidence of galactic life at this point, it was assessed that Tactic Branch Jelyet would be expedient: a show of overwhelming force. Warnings were broadcast in the standard 64 languages, and Somnulent Devices were deployed to force the population into a semi-conscious state. The effects were noted and then immediately countered, as the majority of the population merely ingested higher levels of caffeine. The hoped for fatalities in the native population largely failed to materialize, as the entire population appears to be able to ignore the cardiovascular effects and continue through the mania.
Gendant Seltant at this venture pointed out that the population was entirely dependent upon the neurotoxin, and could be forced to comply by taking it hostage. Backed by her senior staff, but against the advice of the medical team (who had at this point completed only 10% of the required autopsies before final assessment), she deployed the hydraulic empire technique, seizing local caches of the toxin-bearing beverages and demanding population compliance. This involved the entire invasion fleet’s 246 troop carriers and associated troops.
After action analysis proved that most of the population keeps a back up cache of unprocessed caffeine-bearing seeds and leaves in their own homes, and said plant matter is available for easy purchase at aprox 12% of all merchants, but despite this, the population reacted to the perceived threat to their caffeine supply with riots in every instance. Her Highness the Gendant did not survive the riots, and the majority of equipment (it should be noted that this includes translation material) was lost. It was only through extreme courage and ingenuity in the face of overwhelming odds that 8 troop carriers returned at all, whether with or without their troops. (See After Action Report 4: recommendations for commendation: posthumous, After Action Report 5: recommendations for commendation: promotion-worthy, After Action Report 6: recommendations for commendation: recommendations for censure appended, and After Action Report 7: special commendations for actions covered under royal family inheritance law: special heading: BLACK ULTRA SELT.)
As the majority of the troops were dead and the native population was at this point mobilizing into orbit in stolen troop carriers, as ranking officer I made the decision to withdraw from the invasion, mine the outer orbit of the star, detonate a bridge-burner in the wormhole jump behind us, and return to Outreach Base 9 Selt.
RECOMMENDATIONS: Do not engage the planet further under any circumstances, enforce biohazard 8 protocol on entire solar system and closest four stars, and devote at least four labs to finding an antidote to the toxin. The mines are only estimated to stall them four *Denk*, and the wormhole will repair in seven *Ker*. From what I have observed, the natives will follow us, and they will bring caffeine with them.
SIGNED: acting Gendant for 3 NessaSpo “Earth” Mission Zvee, Der 3rd Class, Navigation
|
– ...all the guns are real?
Will was enthusiastically digging for more info.
– Yes, most of them, a few from less well-known titles are not though, his father explained.
Will’s father was a US marines cyber-intelligence officer working at the until now top-secret First Contact Total War Division.
– What about the gravity gun from Half-Life, Will exclaimed euphorically.
– Yes, his father confirmed.
– The spartan laser from Halo?
– Yes, his father now trying to convey the tediousness of an already established pattern.
– The ... BFG? Will was realising the implications as he uttered the abbrevated name.
– Well, yes.
The US armed forces had been seeding various guns in video games since the early nineties preparing for civilian and military «co-op» defense against an imminent alien invasion.
Without knowing, hundreds of millions of gamers around the world had been practicing the use of devastating high-tech weaponry in the event of extra-terrestial ground forces invading Earth.
– I can’t wait! Will was impatiently anticipating what was going to happen next.
– Not so fast, little buddy. You’re not a first person shooter.
Will’s father was using the somewhat trivialising insider term for infantry personel at work.
– You excel in Starcraft II, he continued. – Go ahead ahead and boot up the computer. Just remember that you will be controlling real troops this time, so don’t make any rushed moves and decisions. The maps will be a little different to reflect real events taking place in California right now.
On the television screen unlikely human soldiers, some overweight, unkempt, with unshaved beards covering their necks, were wielding weapons literally out of video games. «A 3D printer in every home», had been Will’s father’s personal idea for covert distribution of high tech guns in the event of an alien invasion.
– We’ve got this, Will’s father whispered to himself with calm and collected satisfaction.
| 2018-05-16T15:43:54 | 2018-05-16T15:03:35 | 48 | 28 |
[WP] A modern military base gets sent back in time. To the people of this period the region surrounding the base becomes known as death valley known for fire breathing dragons, giant insects and beasts.
|
**A Corporal's Heart**
I am Corporal Boris Tarasov and I was teleported to medieval Königsberg. If you are reading these accounts in the 21th century trust me, I am serious about what has happened.
We were 100 people in total at our base, only one of the numerous bases in the Kaliningrad Oblast. Following the week we were teleported to 1321, many of my comrades embarked on raids over the countryside for the devil of it. They have scattered throughout the globe after leaving nothing alive in the perimeter of 80 km. I have not heard from them ever again in three months. We, the remainders have fortified the surroundings of main buildings just in case. We would not want to be caught off guard against the common folk of medieval Prussia.
Likewise, we were not actually doing much back in 2021. Poland on one side, Latvia on the another. No current wars at all. I was somewhat satisfied lingering on with the dream of the last day of my service. I would then be free as the wind! We were in the last month of my time at military when we found ourselves in the middle of Baltic fishermen. I could not give meaning to our instant beaming in the middle of history books! The engineers in our base could do nothing at all about this condition: They could not even explain why had this happened in the first place. I had lost my hope. Now, I am optimistic. At least I am going to alter the events of history in favor of the oppressed.
Our Prussian friend Jokubas is going to come with his army tonight, while waiting we are drinking some of the leftovers of our captain at a table we put on the outdoors training field alongside Jokubas' son. Cruel bastard, he used to scold us absolutely hard after tanking up on his vodkas back from mother Russia.
That man was a real psycho, he lead the high-ranking officers of our company in a "challenge" against the poor peasants of the region. He bet with his lieutenant, who was no better than the captain, over who will kill most of the peasants with only five clips, a machine gun and a knife. My squad was the only division who was left in the base apart from them. We accompanied our seniors with two tanks from behind.
I have learned an invaluable lesson that day. I watched my supposedly "respectable" commanders chopping off heads of children and raping women: Doing all these with joy simply because they "could". I have made a conscious decision over there. I was the leader of my squad, though I have asked for their complete agreement over what we were going to do.
The seniors have left us as support in case the Prussians could challenge them. And guess what: They had. Our captain contacted me over the transmitter asking for help, which I have accepted in name.
When we have arrived in front of the village, we have seen an apparently noble man with plenty of armored warriors around him. My captain's squad has ludicrously spent all their clips in a frenzy.
Our tanks scared the Prussians, however what we have done was more amazing. We have left our tanks, magazines attached to our guns, approached our captain. Prussian high-chief Jokubas had terror in his eyes, though he was spending effort to stay still in front of his already trembling warriors.
My captain was holding an attractive woman with his arms forcibly. It was evident that the woman was in pain. I was disgusted. Whatever the circumstances, a soldier must not hurt defenceless civilians. My captain knew nothing about these. He was grinning until our eyes met. I have raised my gun, aimed at him and fired. He fell on the ground instantly. My men done the very same to the remaining officers -I should say 'savages'- and our job was done there.
Those Prussians prostrated in front of us after this deed. We had no means of communication, but it was imminent that they viewed us as some kind of a saviour. Their leader came near me and just kissed my hand. I tried to stop him, but he insisted on showing respect. They were all prostrating. Saying it bluntly, we were gods in their eyes. Gods with beasts traversing on treads, gods firing arrows at the speed of thunders.
We have left with our tanks, yet these folks were persistent in follıwing us to the base. At the gates of our base, the Prussian high-chief articulated some stressed sentences, again tried to kissed my hand and bowed before me. He left his son to us, I guess in some kind of tribute, and has withdrawn.
Now, at the moment, I am sharing vodka with a Prussian prince along with my comrades; waiting for our "subjects" to probably besiege some crusader stronghold with tanks and missiles.
I am Corporal Boris Tarasov. Right now I have hope and most importantly, I am rewriting the history while drunk as hell.
|
A Private patrolled the mesa where the military base had been transported to. It had been a week since the military base was sent back in time, and they were running low on food. The private was scouting for local wildlife of the region.
He wondered why he couldn't even have a jeep. Not like 4 massive canisters of gasoline will run out any time soon. No, probably more like 4 above ground and 12 below ground. Combined with the gasoline above the service stored in smaller canisters and vehicles.
The private had found nothing, and quickly ran back to base.
The base was a large, green camouflaged barracks with a few vehicle storage buildings. They had planes, but they could barely be used with no runway. Their tanks and jeeps still worked, but some got damaged and needed new tires.
The locals of the area were either too afraid or too confused to try fighting the military base.
As the weeks turned into months, the military base found a supply of food using a combination of the local foliage and food. Their water was from a stream hidden underground.
The Military base was rumored about, and it came into conflict a few times with local civilizations. Most of the time, all they needed was a warning shot and they'd go away.
(ending this story due to the lack of paths that would make a good, non-filler plot)
| 2021-09-19T11:37:32 | 2021-09-18T19:50:47 | 25 | 10 |
[WP]At last the Dovahkiin dies. Now all the Daedra princes he has served over his life fight for his soul.
|
“This. This right here. This is why we need a system.”
“Don't bring Jyggalag into this, Clavicus, he's enough of a pain in the Oblivion as it is.”
“Well, why don't we just smash it and split it among ourselves?”
“How surprising, Dagon wants to break it.”
“Bite me, Fido, and give me one less fool to contend with.”
The Princes of Oblivion were at an impasse. They had yet to come across a mortal who had pledged themselves to all 16 of them. This wasn't just any mortal, either. This was possibly the most foolish of mortals, an amusing prize if ever there were any. He was quite powerful, to boot. Perhaps a bit too noisy, but well worth the soundproofing.
“Naturally, his soul belongs to me. Not only am I above you buzzing maggots, he pledged his soul to me twice. First when he took the mace, then again when he partook of the ancient blood. Stand aside or be crushed,” grumbled Molag Bal, the Daedric Prince of domination.
“Maggots... do not *buzz*...” exhaled Hermaeus Mora, in his usual half-yawn voice.
“Don't need a library and half of eternity to tell you that, ol' tentacles.” The rot of Namira's breath silenced the Princes for a moment. Hircine, used to such smells, was the first to regain his composure.
“Besides, if that's enough to claim his soul, then I have as much claim to it as you! He pledged his soul to me when he partook of my ancient blood and claimed my artifact.”
“You think he is of your blood? This one is a dragon. The blood of dragons supersedes that of dogs and rapists alike, he is my kin and mine to claim.”
Peryite's words went unheard or ignored. He was rather used to it. Malacath gave him a slap on the back, followed by some encouragement:
“Don't worry. You aren't a real dragon anyways, Pery!” Booming laughter from the Prince of outcasts did little to improve his mood.
Rising above the increasingly pitched argument came a flat, nasally voice: “ENOUGH. His hand touched *my* beacon before any of-” Before Meridia could finish with he indignation, Mephala capitalized upon her proficiency in assassination. Wordlessly, the Daedra nodded to eachother, agreeing that what just happened was for the best. Retaking the lead, Molag Bal marched forward and reached to seize the soul by force. His claws, however, were repelled. The dagger-like digits had never failed to anchor in something before. Not anything mortal, at least. The darkness of the forest in which the daedra had chosen to gather was split by blinding sunlight. Molag Bal broke out into a river of profanity.
“DAMNIT. DAMNIT. AKATOSH, DAMN YOU. YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF AND...”
Ignoring the indignant daedroth, a sleepy-eyed dragon, pure gold in color, descended. After a long yawn, he began to mumble.
“Sorry I'm late, everybody,” said the Aedric god of time, apparently unaware of the irony. “I'm, uh... here to pick up my son?” Taking a look at the soul, which was honestly closer to a swirling mass of powerful souls than any individual, he corrected himself. “Oh, yeah. I guess I'm here to pick up several of them, in a way. Anywho, thanks for keeping an eye on him, guys.” Akatosh plucked the soul from the ground with a single claw and slowly retreated towards the midnight sun. “See you guys at the next Convention! Or the last one. It's, uh, out of my realm of expertise. Anyways...” The golden dragon was gone as abruptly as he had arrived, the night sky returning to its normal, starry self. The Princes looked at one another, and wordlessly retreated to their respective spheres of Oblivion. Meridia's aspect dissolved into light, and Molag Bal alone remained. With a furrowed brow, scowl, and limp tail, he pouted. “Stupid divine.”
|
We fought each other to no avail. The Dovahkiin had fallen after serving each of us in turn. His soul was by rights one of ours, but we failed to see beyond Nirn, byond oblivion. We forgot who waits out there.
The mortal never swore himself to us, but he did dedicate his soul to one being, and one being alone. We thought we would claim a prize upon his death, but we were wrong.
Now oblivion burns. From cold harbour to the colored rooms, all is ash and dust, and this is our last words. It was not what it appeared. It was not the claiming of a mortal soul that it should have been, it was an invasion. In the confusion of our sibling squabbles, we were undone by two words, and two words alone:
"Hail Sithis!"
| 2018-06-15T08:35:43 | 2018-06-15T08:27:33 | 242 | 29 |
[WP] Hundreds of years ago an eccentric sorcerer turned all mythical creatures into humans to try and prevent them from being hunted to extinction. Now that the spell is starting to wear off, the descendants of the original beasts are slowly beginning to morph back into their true forms.
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"I do not like my transformation." Her voice was soft. It clicked and her teeth chattered in the cold. "I haven't been able to leave this room for weeks because of it." He could hear rustling as she moved around. "I am a beast." In the darkness, her eyes glinted. "I don't know why you remain at my side, even now." Anger tainted her speech. "You, who have been so lucky in the years following the transformation."
No one was aware that this transformation was going to take place. It was revealed to humankind that one day, tens of thousands of years ago in the past, a sorcerer changed all manner of magickal beasts into humans in an effort to save them from extinction. This sorcerer allowed them to procreate with the prevalent human population to increase their numbers in a time before written history when only legends could be told. The written seal made by the sorcerer had two functions: it induced the transformations themselves and erased all memory of the transformations from the new collective human consciousness. No one was aware that they were now human and had not been before and no one was aware that they would ever change *back* from being human, should the magickal script be effaced or in any way damaged
For decades after its rediscovery, the tablet stood in museums around the world. Written in an unknown language -- not at all remarkable for that feature -- whose primitive inscriptions were a mystery to all modern people, linguists and intellectuals marveled at its hidden meaning. It predated all other forms of written communication by thousands of years.
It could not have been known then that its preservation was critical to the continued existence of changed beasts as humans across the planet. No one could've anticipated, when the tablet cracked in an attempt to transfer the stone to another museum, that such an alteration to the tablet would undo its ancient spell and change all manner of people across the globe into creatures of mythos.
The rate of change was variable. So far it is known that the transformation back to these primeval forms is dependent on the beast type/how different the beast form is from the human one and how many generations far back the modern 'human' is inheriting their new physical condition. Features of each beast did not blend. That is to say, there are no centaur-minotaur hybrids because said human shares ancestry with both beasts. The former humans adopted whatever form was most strong based on their lineage. What they transformed into was also based on personality and prior human appearance. No one could be certain what they would become.
The woman in the corner of the room was changing into a frost spirit. She shed her skin and physical form to adopt something insubstantial. Flesh fell from her body in sharp pieces like flint, and the exposed creature underneath -- her true form -- was unable to tolerate temperatures above freezing. Her new face was gaunt with deep-set silver eyes that shined like lanterns in the distance. Her exposed new form was translucent, allowing her to see through to her exposed flesh underneath. The effect was horrific.
The room itself was made cold by her spiritual form, causing her extant human body pain as the frostbite took hold. It did not matter that her remaining mortal form was suffering as a result, for her new form was stronger, and the pain of warmth was too much to bear for her frosty spirit.
The brother watched her in the darkness, unaffected by the cold in his fully realized new form. "I did not choose this creature the same way you did not choose yours." His voice permeated the world, and birds sang in competition with its beauty. "Do not hate me for who I have become." She shied away from his emanating light, far brighter than hers. "I do not spite you for yours."
The arteries on her exposed brain pulsed as she angered. "How can I not?" Fog issued out of her mouth as she spoke. "You!" She spat at the floor. "You, who have been so lucky compared to the rest dare to try and tell me how I should react to this beast I have inherited?" The fog tumbled onto the floor, altering her voice and making it deeper. Her lantern eye sneered at him. "Get out of my presence." She turned away, but he could still see that eye through her skull. "You're letting the warmth in."
He sighed without another word and closed the door, standing in the darkness of the hallway and contemplating his own new form. His body had lengthened and took shape the day the tablet broke. He was one of the first to achieve his hidden, natural state, going from perceivably human to beast in a matter of hours. But it was not truly a beast he became compared to the others. He was powerful and humanoid. Far more palatable to the changing beasts that had grown accustomed to their human forms.
His tall, lithe form glowed in the dark room of his former home, and he could understand the thoughts and feelings of all those that shared his creature type. They spoke to him and soothed his concerns about his sister. They were all that he had now. They were his everything.
He exited the house, and stared at the trees. With a passive will of his mind, all manner of life began to grow and interact with him. Trees branched and unfurled their leaves. Birds chattered to one another and regarded him with curiosity. His ability to impart and quicken life would have been a problem in the modern human world, with its industrial, urban environment, but that world was no longer. Humans were dying out.
With the transformation, there were fewer human people than even before the beasts were saved. There were only tens of thousands left in the world that had not begun to change, and those numbers were dwindling as their lineages reached back further down the line to find any relation to a beast. One could only guess at the true number of people that share no blood with the beasts -- the number of people that would never change.
The man retreated in the trees and melted in the shadows. He traveled through the network of living things to the great cathedral of his new people, who have not inhabited its rooms in tens of thousands of years. Light emanated from its stone and people greeted him with familiar green eyes, skin and faces that told him that this is where he belonged.
In the aftermath of the transformation, there were more of his people than ever. Now they had the numbers and power to return the world to its natural state and bring what is left of humanity back to darkness.
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“You’re so sweet that I want to just eat you up,” Hailey gushed, nibbling playfully at Jeff’s ear.
Writhing in the sweat-stained sheets, he rolled his eyes but giggled. “Geez babe, you’re so sappy.” He kissed her forehead. “Goofball.”
“Guilty as charged,” she laughed, savoring the warm glow of love. Swirling her lustrous auburn hair, more magnificent than a horse’s mane, Hailey threw her arms around Jeff and lost herself in the bliss of his mouth.
Returning the kiss, he grabbed her by the wrist, eyebrows arching. “Wow, when’s the last time you cut your fingernails, babe?” he asked with a laugh as she released him.
With her free hand, Hailey gave Jeff a playful scratch on the shoulder. “So are you gonna buy me a manicure then? Mr. Manager can afford it now,” she joked.
“Pffffft. Sorry, you’ll have to put a ring on this before you spend my money. Besides babe, aren’t we all about equality and stuff?” A roguish, charming smile accompanied the little jab. Irresistible bastard!
An irrepressible grin spread over Hailey’s face. “Okay, Mr. Feminst, fir-”
“Oww! What the hell babe, your toenails are so sharp,” Jeff complained with a slight wince.
Slightly annoyed, she flushed. “Yeah, yeah, I get it already. Thought I trimmed them a few days ago; I probably just forgot.” Trying to recapture the relaxed tenderness she so treasured, Hailey snuggled closer to Jeff. “Don’t be such a big baby,” she pouted playfully with another nibble.
Something sweet filled her mouth. “Aaahh! What the fuck!!???” Jeff screamed, clutching his ear.
Blood ran down the corners of her lips.
“Oh come on, you know you like it rough,” Hailey rasped. Where had that thought come from? Her mouth watered with the intoxicating flavor of Jeff’s blood.
Eyes wide, he scrambled to the corner of the bed, white and shaking. She sprang to her feet, then collapsed to the ground with a snarl. Trembling with rage, Hailey tried to stand, once again falling to all fours. Thick, course auburn hair covered her new muscles.
She howled.
Now huddled in the far corner of the room, wielding her desk chair as both sword and shield, Jeff yelled. “Get away from me, you monster!”
Licking her fangs, Hailey laughed. “You’re so sweet that I want to just eat you up.”
| 2019-10-09T11:53:31 | 2019-10-09T11:38:11 | 92 | 62 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel?
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I was preparing tea in a hidden anteroom off the throne room, behind the dais where the emperor ruled from his throne made, yes literally, of the bones of his enemies. I almost dropped the kettle when I heard the explosion followed by a sucking of wind. This room was located atop the highest of six spires stabbing the heavens from Castle Blood. Each spire painted to look as if blood was running down their length, as though they had stabbed through the earth exiting the other side.
The fight came on in full. The emperor spent no time with words often grunting or waving a hand to give orders and answer questions. It took me years to understand his intentions, watching my predecessor and mentor interpret his every whim. When the moment came to usurp his position, to finally be allowed close enough to put down the beast upon the throne I acted. At night I can see his face, the man who trusted me and believed me to share his goals of serving this monster and see to his rule. I had eliminated rivals for promotion in the empire without murder until that point.
He simply needed to die. It was the only way.
For the past two years I had been slowly poisoning the emperor, and I mean slowly, to avoid suspicion and ensure his death. I was an assassin first and foremost. The last thing I ever intended to be was a martyr. A quick death would have brought a million tortures onto my head before the empire fell. I had no desire to suffer them. My plan was to damage the emperors body enough that he wouldn't recover. Either he would die and the empire would crumble, or a lesser of his would usurp the weakened ruler and fail to combat the resistance as effectively.
All of this thrown out the window the heroes of the resistance had used to breach the throne room. I wonder if any historian will ask why that window was placed there. Further why it wasn't reinforced. Short answer is me. I did that. I suggested to the emperor he should have a view of his kingdom from his throne, and after enough nagging he relented. I also ensured that it was constructed poorly enough to not serve as a defense. Now I had done that in the event I ever needed a quick exit from the throne room, assuming were I ever caught I would be brought here to be executed. The window was weak enough that I could break through it by leaping into the bottom left panel, destabilizing the entire thing.
The damn heroes will never know this gift to them.
I set the kettle down and walked into the throne room as the fighting ended. The heroes stood over the bloodied emperor cheering their victory. I looked at them all and could not detect any serious injury among them. These idiots will never know it was my poison that weakened him enough for their victory. The emperor was as evil as he was powerful. These heroes couldn't have defeated him on his worst day without my poison in his veins, subtly sapping his monstrous strength.
I had inadvertently saved them from their suicide mission.
It wasn't long before I was noticed. The cheering ended, and I soon found myself pinned against a far wall with a forearm choking me. I held my hands up in submission while I waited for the killing blow. Instead the hero released me and I fell to my knees gasping for breath. I stood slowly as the others came over to surround me and any exit I may have sought. Their leader stepped forward, his cape flowing in the wind entering through the destroyed portal of my design.
"Give me one good reason I shouldn't end your evil existence right now." His deep voice rumbled at me. I could feel his rage building, and knew I had to pick my next words carefully if I wanted any chance of explaining myself.
I dusted off my clothes and swallowed a few times before I locked eyes with him.
"Because not all heroes wear capes."
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Really rough first draft, I hope whoever reads the whole thing enjoyed it!
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I stared in disbelief as years of hard, grueling work suddenly meant nothing. With a single thrust, Halidar the Bold had taken my moment in the sun, and just hours before I planned to do the deed myself.
"You mother of slaves" bellowed forth from my throat as Halidar's erupted in a crimson splash. The blood ran from my beard as I stared down at what I had done. A cheer erupted from a thousand throats as I inadvertently avenged the Dark Lord and became his sucessor.
| 2017-03-12T15:07:15 | 2017-03-12T12:50:45 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] Turns out Humans are tiny compared to any other species of aliens, allowing them to live off in the nooks and crannies of alien spaceships. Colonies can live on ships for generations unseen and unknown, or have a mutually beneficial relationship with a crew.
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Little green men. Who the fuck came up with that line? In the Fifties, people all over were using this to describe “aliens” It wasn’t until 2027 when there was true, recorded contact, that we realized all ET’s do not fit the same bill. The first contact we had was with those who call themselves Nordics, and yeah, those guys are all 3 meters tall \(9 ft.\), minimum. They reached us at the ISS, and docked in a timeframe that no human could rightfully do in one try. More humanoid in appearance than could be ignored, many of us on the crew wondered if we were staring at our ancestors. Possibly even our creators.
We didn’t get too much time to dwell, because within just a few days of meeting the Nordics, we were escorted to some sort of intergalactic federation. Federation of United Galaxies. Although I couldn't read the words, we were told it meant The Federation of United Galaxies. Being a crew of many nationalities, it was easier to just call it FUG. That was our first glimpse into an intergalactic powerhouse that had been in full operation since longer than our planet had been rotating around the sun.
I was staring at pretty much every known intelligent species since the Big Bang, and it didn’t take long for anyone to realize that we really had to crane our necks up to see anyone. Who knew that at 1.8 meters \(6 ft.\), I would be considered short?
Every being already knew what humans were, but none tried to actually reach out to us. I suppose this is similar to a human reaching out to invite a band of chimps into NATO. And so it was, we were never formally invited in, but allowed to sit in on certain FUG discussions for some time until we were more properly vetted.
As the ship’s captain and 2nd mechanic, I was more interested in seeing the other ships than I was in listening to some foreign ET discuss dumping rights on Jupiter, so I started to sneak out and just ogle the ships. One day, the others from the ISS saw me slip out, and they followed. We started to notice that no one really paid any attention to us, but I couldn’t tell if it was because we were new, foreign, or just so damn tiny.
It was early May, 2027, when the crew and I accidentally got involved with an operation. The 5 of us again slipped out of the conferences, and we walked on board a Prii destroyer, easily the biggest fucking piece of metal I have ever seen. I went to see Mt. Rushmore as a child back on Earth, and I’m pretty sure if this ship landed on those heads, they would be eclipsed. We were pretty deep in the ship when I heard the first alarm ring out. But by then it was already too late. The Prii were rushing onto the ship, and before the ramp drew to a close, I saw every other alien running to their ships.
No one saw us, no one asked why we were there. There were 5 human beings, but it might as well been 5 cockroaches. So, like roaches, we scurried to a small nook in the ship to avoid detection, and more importantly – avoid getting trampled.
We sat on that ship for what could only have been 2 hours, but then I could feel everything starting to slow down. There was a window, but it was about 3 stories over our head. Luckily, there were some grooves and notches in the wall, so we used them to pull ourselves up.
What I saw will haunt my remaining years. I saw Earth. Only, I saw it with about 8 dozen intergalactic war ships surrounding it. I wondered aloud what the hell was happening, and not too long after I got my answer. There was another fleet! Foreign even to the Prii and the others we had been spending time with. We were about to be in battle, and I was about as useless as dryer lint.
It has now been 31 days since the battle. The Prii could not win, and were forced to retreat while the opponent landed, and presumably conquered Earth. Now, we 5 humans stow away as the last free humans in existence. We mustn’t let that concern us. Or mission is now to colonize this ship, and bring it back to take back our home planet. Knowing this could take at least 2 more generations, will those who take back Earth even be human anymore?
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Except that these particular humans aboard the Vorn generation ship forgot about whence they came. They never knew a life of sailing along the moon beams of Alactra or bathing beneath the sand falls of Saint Silloux. Terra is no longer a whisper in the collective memory of these unwitting space voyagers. Matter of fact, until today, they didn't even know that there was a larger word above their home, known only on Vorn schematics as Vessel 2b of Exchanger Fin 1 of Sub\-Section 11 of Waste Recovery System 145601.a. Theirs was a world of unpredictable, undulating shadows, roiling storms of steam, violent shifts of temperature, and the dissonance of sound waves long forgotten by their highly\-developed ears. They never knew a life without these things and they never questioned that there was anyone or anything beyond the confines of Vessel 2b. That is, until their children began to vanish and one dared to ask the question, "Where have they gone?"
| 2018-05-30T13:04:59 | 2018-05-30T11:13:39 | 45 | 14 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
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It had only taken an Earth century for our word for "human" to become synonymous with "weak" or "coward". When they had achieved travel faster than light and joined us as a fellow interplanetary power, we had tested them as we did all newcomers. We met them with threats and arms, skirmished with their warrior caste, testing their mettle. Before suffering even a single causality, they had instead sent another caste. Spineless fools dressed in finery that attempted to wage war using words instead of weapons. They offered us goods, riches, services, favourable trade agreements, all in return for the total cessation of hostile activity. We accepted, of course. In our minds, we had believed them defeated. Terrified of our might and had voluntarily given us their riches to save them from the destruction our warriors would wreak if we were to take it by force. This was our first mistake.
Our leaders saw them as an untapped well, ripe for exploitation and watched eagerly as they began to spread outward from their homeworld, creating a vast web of trade routes and colonies. Resources were mined, goods were produced and shipped, their worlds prospered and grew but despite this expansion the humans remained utterly dwarfed by our empire. As such, we would assert our dominance and demand tribute whenever the need arose. Be it the food required to quell the threat of starvation or fill a need for resources or even to simply distract the warrior caste from descending into infighting, we only had to present our ships to them and discharge our great weapons into the vast expanse of space for them to capitulated and give in to our demands. We believed them such cowards to give in to us so easily and to deliver to us such a vast quantity of resources and goods that it would easily cripple a people their size. So blinded by greed, we had not noticed the human's reaction to this sudden shortage. Or rather, their complete lack of reaction, chalking it up instead to the humans having stockpiled these goods just for such an event. This was our second mistake.
Our third mistake was when we decided to retaliate after a recent expansion into our territory. We received word that the humans had began to send a convoy of their great mining ships to a resource deposit close to our border. Our leaders were outraged by such a transgression and soon decided that such a transgression was a sign that the humans had grown complacent. A complacency that they were soon about to cost them dearly. We had our warriors ready, our fleet mobilising swiftly and with a cry of war they set out to destroy the offending mining ships. We approached in the hundreds, slipping out of hyperspace and descending upon those great lumbering giants like a swarm. We pounded their hulls with plasma, sunk missile after missile against them as their point defences proved useless repelling such a massive force. We had only lost a dozen ships before the beast split open, explosions rupturing them from within as they broke apart and propelled twisted scrap into the asteroid belt they had been mining from. We left feeling triumphant in our victory, our message broadcast to the humans loud and clear.
They responded swiftly and soon they had sent one of their verbose weaklings to our very doorstep. Our leaders only laughed when their message was relayed to them. They had demanded *reparations*. A formal apology to the families of those who we had made an example of, to pay for their pitiful little traditions of "funeral". To have such such gall, such insolence to delivery such an insult to our leaders, the messenger was executed before he was even finished.
This was our fourth and final mistake.
The humans had received word of their diplomat's death, their reaction was one that we did not expect. We had imagined they would cower, send us tributes or further diplomats in a desperate attempt to quell our anger. Instead, we were greeted with only silence. Up until the day that the sky cracked and we were plunged into a chaos the likes of which we could never imagine.
Our first and only sign that the humans were upon us was when we detected a ship had exited hyperspace within the solar system of our home. A massive thing, larger than even our greatest of capital ships. On board must have been thousands upon thousands of humans.We read their entry point from the slipstream they left and to our horror the humans had somehow been able to propel this behemoth of a ship straight past our frontline defences and into the heart of our empire. We scrambled fighters, summoned our greatest of warriors, sung battle son-
And then another ship arrived.
And then another.
And another.
They descended on us with such vengeful fury. We could not comprehend the resources required, the manpower required, the technology required to field such enormous force. Our leaders came to this slow and brutal realisation as our atmosphere was breached by thousands upon thousands of craft carrying human warriors, clad in armour that our weapons barely scratched and wielding weapons that butchered our defenders with such cold efficiency. And yet, the most horrifying realisation of all only came when our warriors began to recognise the enemy as the traders they had extorted, the miners they had harassed. At first we believed that humans were able to change their caste but soon we realised they simply had no such system. They were all capable of becoming warriors. Each and every one of them, handed a weapon and trained in it's usage before being let loose upon the enemy. We were defeated. Humiliated. Subjugated. We had suffered the greatest loss in our history. Not just military, in total. The humans were unrestrained in their warfare. Civilians were not spared, all were considered a combatant in this great lust for revenge.
Humans called this "total war".
We had no such word for this brutality.
---
Thanks for reading! I'm trying to improve as a writer and would very much appreciate any and all feedback! Cheers!
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"Everyone know your objective?" My Sargent asked as we got out of the transport. There was a hostage situation that required the upmost care... more then a few big political powers from each planet was here, one wrong move and everyone would point guns at everyone else. I exhaled deeply. I was the one to do the up front negotiations, draw the attention away from the hostages, and keep them looking at me. Our small platoon nodded and we each went to our stations. I had my sidearm and a knife in my boot as my only protection. I walked into the tent that I'd been told to go to and began to wonder. This planet didn't have that much life on it and that was why it had been used for negationing, no place to hide any... unsavory individuals. The terrorists had managed to form tunnels and now essentially had full control of this place. I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding as I walked in. It had a few other negotiators for each other race. They all looked up and I swore that I could see one roll it's eyes at me... whatever. I walked over to the table they were standing around"What are they demanding?" I asked as I crossed my arms "They want to set a bomb off inside the planet with everyone still on it." One of the creatures said bluntly. I shook my head "Americans don't negotiate with terrorists. Have you tried to draw them out and just kill them?" I asked, cracking my neck. That got more then a few looks "As if you know what a terrorist-" the thing was cut off by several gunshots, I dove to the floor and flipped the table, drawing my sidearm and looking out, from the opening of the tent I could see that people were rushing around and I cursed. The other negotiators began to freak out and fall to the ground. I sighed to myself. They'd not gone with the plan and now I had to deal with the fallout. I took the table and used it as moving cover. I ran along and looked out again, there were more then a few people in cover... and dozens of bodies from the terrorists. I cracked a smile and then holster ed my gun. We'd won easily.
| 2019-08-03T13:45:25 | 2019-08-03T08:40:03 | 59 | 12 |
[WP] Out of all possible familiars, you are "Graced" with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people.
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"Rise, Sernethis."
Wearily, I gathered my four legs beneath me and stood, doing my best to hold my head proud against the weight of the heavy iron collar and chain that fought to drag it back down again. My wings, however, hung limp at scaled flanks; the pain of attempting to fold them was simply beyond my ability to overcome it. I did not complain, however: It is law that they be broken to prevent my escape for a crime as heinous as mine.
The court was lined with other dragons: Quads, hexes, the serpent-like with no legs at all. All of dragonkind was represented by elected leaders of their kind. Grim expressions regarded me, but none so severe as that of Lumos, the white dragon towering almost twice as tall as the next smallest of the council. His lips curled back, exposing even rows of bright, sharp teeth.
"You have found guilty of the most terrible of all crimes: The murder of your own familiar. There is no doubt of your guilt, for not only was their murder witnessed by a score of dragons in the city of Rrannensath, you have openly and willingly admitted the crime." The white dragon leaned down, eyes narrowed. "It is only by due process that I must ask you if you wish to change your plea and explain your actions."
"I do not," I said without hesitation, wincing against the pain in my wings. "And you all know precisely my motivation. The familiar of a dragon is supposed to be a creature of worth, strength, respect, a faithful companion." I spat the last two words from my muzzle like so much soured meat. "The travesty I was 'gifted' was nothing of the sort."
A small lick of flame escaped the nostrils of Lumos. "A familiar is more than just what you expect of it. It is also there to challenge you to become more than who you were before you received it. It is your duty to handle their foibles, encourage them along the appropriate path."
I could not suppress the snort that escaped my throat. "Foibles? I tended to the creature for five years, and among other things during that time it sparked an outright civil conflict between the Prangnari and the Eoosa, caused an entire village to be burned to the ground, and almost killed one member of the council presiding today!" I flicked my muzzle towards Grefnennen, a small green bipedal dragon whose one eye regarded me steadily, the other a mess of scar tissue. "In the name of what? A prank! A *joke*!" I lunged against my restraints, the metal biting painfully into my hide.
The great white dragon rumbled. "We of the council are aware of all of this. But it was also your failing that resulted in these situations. It is your duty to ensure that your familiar is under your control at all times."
"And my duty is precisely the reason I tore his head off!" I exploded. "There was no redeeming the creature! His mind was broken the moment he came to be! If you dare to stand before me and suggest that I failed in my duty, in my efforts - and not only my own, but of the greatest minds of dragonkind who repeatedly attempted to assist me and yet failed time and time again - then my death will be a welcome one!"
For a long moment there was only silence. Finally, Lumos spoke once more. "We thought you ready for the challenge."
I stared up at the great dragon. "Your eminence, for all of your wisdom and knowledge, you thought wrong." An audible gasp escaped a few of the dragons watching from the gallery in the upper levels, but I forged on. "You challenged me, indeed. And I even went so far as to breach the laws of Merhensis and sought knowledge from the history of the creature itself, travelling the threads of time at my own peril. I saw the stock from which this creature came. I witnessed the depravity of their existence! They were born to serve only one purpose: Destruction. Their own, and that of whatever they came in contact with." I gestured to myself with a foreclaw. "My own end included. To allow such a creature to persist in our midst would have been the undoing of us all. I did what was necessary. I will pay the price for it. Not willingly, but honorably and at peace knowing that what I did was right. For all of us."
A few of the council turned to each other to murmur quietly, but Lumos remained silent, regarding me steadily. He raised a large claw, and the council fell silent. His jaw opened, and for a moment he paused. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head.
"Sernethis, for the murder of your familiar, you are sentenced to oblivion."
And I was no more.
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"Dang it Fred!" I shouted as he zipped off towards the old lady with a water balloon full of apple juice and glitter.
I started to follow, but Fred had crossed 6 lanes of city traffic just after the light turned green. I had my back turned for two seconds to see if the bus was coming, and the little blighter was already up to mischief.
I couldn't help but wince as the miscreant artfully lobbed the devious mixture at the unsuspecting woman, probably someone's great grandmother, and then disappeared into a nearby crowd before it landed.
Mercifully there was a break in traffic so I could rush over to apologize for the resulting mess.
"I'm terribly sorry ma'am." I start to say, but the old lady, drenched and fabulous, cuts me off.
"Young man! Do you have any idea how long its been since someone has dared to hurl such an absurd device at me!?" She exclaimed, brandishing a purse at me.
I put up my hands, and started to take a step backwards, before I remembered my back was facing a, once again, busy urban street.
I start to mentally curse that blighter Fred, but then the old lady reached into her purse and pulled out a water pistol filled with what I could only guess was the world's foulest smelling liquid imaginable.
"Too long." She grinned as she leveled the mischievous device at me.
Suddenly I catch a glimpse of Fred in the crowd. He says something just loud enough for me to hear. "Hey man, even old ladies want to have fun."
| 2018-03-20T17:50:14 | 2018-03-20T17:49:33 | 101 | 28 |
[WP] A recently retired supervillain tries to live a normal life, the world's greatest superhero thinks he's up to something, he really isn't...
|
March 2016
**SMASH**
The wall exploded, rubble and dust coating the living room. There stood Ultra Man. Again. The Baron shook his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
"How many time to I have to tell you? I'm retired!" The Baron shouted.
"Don't play coy with me Baron von Evilguy! I know you're up to something." Ultra Man strode forward over the concrete pieces of wall and grabbed The Baron by the shirt.
"Okay, you win, Ultra Man, I'll show you what I'm up to."
The Baron carefully extracted himself from Ultra Man's grasp and led the way down to his wine cellar.
"Today, I'm cataloging all my wines, and I'm setting up a wine and cheese night for myself and a few friends. You're more than welcome to come... If you can use the door. I'm getting very tired of replacing walls."
Ultra Man glared at The Baron. "You aren't fooling anyone. I know you're up to something. I just have to figure out what."
"I'm really not--" The Baron began to explain, but Ultra Man took off, straight up, leaving several holes in the floors and ceilings of The Baron's house.
Shaking his head, The Baron set to cleaning up the mess before his guests would arrive.
May 2016
**CRASH**
Ultra Man punched through the wall, the rubble forming a neat pile, thanks to a contraption mounted on the wall.
The Baron gestured to the table. "Since you've been making a habit of breaking my house on a weekly basis, always around lunch time, I figured the least I could do is set out some sandwiches."
Ultra Man walked over the table, eyeing the sandwiches with suspicion. He picked one up and sniffed it. "What is this? Some sort of poison?"
The Baron smiled. "Actually, it's a hero sandwich. I thought you'd enjoy it. Please, have a seat."
Ultra Man tossed the hero sandwich on the floor and fixed The Baron with his most menacing glare. "I know you're up to something. You think you can just play it cool, and I'll just give up, but I won't. I will find out what you're up to."
"Well, I am thinking about breeding corgis."
"What?! Are you creating vicious man-eating dogs?"
"Nope. Just regular, cute, little corgis."
Ultra Man shook his head and flew off, the ceiling parting for him as he went.
The Baron shook his head and pressed a button on the table, fixing the wall and closing the ceiling. Then, he finished lunch.
October 2016
**DING DONG**
The Baron put his book down and got up, grabbing his big bowl of candy and walking to the door.
"Happy Hallo--"
**BAM!**
The Baron stumbled back as Ultra Man's fist came through the door and connected with his nose.
"Ow! Seriously, Ultra Man? Don't you have actual crime to fight?"
Ultra Man's gaze softened and much to The Baron's surprise, the great superhero began to cry.
"It's true! I--I'm just" Ultra Man sobbed, struggling for breath.
"Whoa, whoa. Jerry, I didn't mean anything by that, I'm just getting tired of telling you I've retired."
Ultra Man stopped and looked up at The Baron. "You knew my secret identity?"
"Well, yeah. You only disguise yourself with a pair of glasses and a slightly different hairstyle. You know that computers are capable of face recognition, right? Hell, Facebook even knows your secret identity."
Ultra Man stumbled over to the table and sat down. "It's just these new supervillains. They're seriously messed up. They don't know the rules I thought maybe if I got you to come back, you'd bring back some organization to the chaos."
The Baron sat down at the table with his former foe. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to get out of things. But maybe I could offer you some advice?"
"I'd like that." Ultra Man sniffled.
"I'll go make us some tea." The Baron smiled and set to work.
March 2043
**KNOCK KNOCK**
The Baron shuffled to his door, opening it to let in his old friend, Ultra Man.
"I was beginning to think you weren't coming today."
Ultra Man, still as young and vibrant as he had been decades ago, helped his aged frenemy to the table. "And miss finally beating you in chess?"
"Ha! You might have super powers, but I still have my mind." The Baron chuckled and adjusted his bifocals. "Delores? Could you make some lunch for my guest and me?"
A large woman in bright, white sneakers came in and smiled warmly at the two before setting to making snacks.
"So how have you been?" Ultra Man asked, moving his bishop to a slightly wrong tile.
"Oh, the same. Which is pretty good at my age. My hip still aches when it snows, but Delores takes good care of me, and I've still got Hans around here somewhere." The Baron moved his piece to place Ultra Man's king in check. "Ha! Check!"
Ultra Man smiled and tipped over his king. "Actually, that was checkmate, old friend."
The Baron adjusted his glasses. "Really?"
Ultra Man nodded, noticing a large, fat corgi wandering into the room. "Yes, it was definitely checkmate."
"Well, do you want to play again, Jerry?"
"Yes, I would, Ben."
***
***You can find more of my work at /r/thestormcellar hope you enjoy!***
|
"I know your game, Lance. Just give it up. It's over."
"My game is Sudoku. And it's not over, I've just gone wrong somewhere."
"That's a front, and you know it. You think I was born yesterday?"
Lance sighed. He had been through this a thousand times. "No, I don't think you were born yesterday, Steve. You were born 3,000 years ago, as you keep reminding me. I'm retired now. I told you this yesterday, and the day before. I receive a state pension. I ride the bus for free. It's brilliant."
"You destroyed a bus once! Remember that?" Steve was impassioned. He spat into the phone. Lance, who was far more calm, rolled his eyes.
"Yes, Steve, I remember that. I'm not losing my marbles just yet. As I say, I've retired. My brother used to work in accounting. He's retired, so he doesn't use excel anymore. It's quite simple."
"You might fool everyone else, Lance, but you won't fool me. I'm on to you. I *will* bring you down. I just need to find you, and then you're finished."
"I've told you where I am, Steve. I'm at the Seven Oaks Retirement Home. I'm literally sat in a rocking chair as we speak, getting my feet rubbed by an immigrant. I'm as typical a pensioner as they come. I've even turned slightly racist."
"Pah! Don't feed me those lies. You're probably hidden underground somewhere."
"Okay Steve, fine. I'm hidden underground somewhere. I'm plotting an evil, Sudoku based plan to destroy the world. Happy now?"
"I *knew* it!"
"Okay, brilliant. Can I go now? There's a knitting class on in 20 minutes and I fancy the tutor."
"I'm coming after you, Lance. I'll be seeing you very soon."
"Well, visiting hours are between 16:00 and 18:00. Make sure you bring cookies."
| 2016-03-08T09:04:32 | 2016-03-08T08:17:44 | 126 | 41 |
[WP] You are the founder of a tiny 1990s tech startup operating from your garage. All of a sudden, a bunch of people who are obviously badly disguised time travelers start trying to buy stock in your company.
|
I catch myself re-reading the same sentence for the third time and look up from my desk. It's gotten dark outside, no wonder I've been having trouble deciphering my badly scribbled notes. I turn on the lights and after closing the blinds and locking down the front door, I decide to make some coffee. It doesn't look like any more 'investors' will be arriving today, so I might as well use the lack of distractions and focus on work. Just as I realize that I've made far too much coffee, a bang on the garage door interrupts my thoughts. I sigh.
A somewhat impatient looking man, probably in his late forties, looks down to me as I pull up the heavy panels. I wish him a good evening, not particularly looking forward to his pitch.
"Ah, yes, good evening", he responds, breathlessly.
We stare at each other. He starts again:
"Sorry...to intrude at this time, I mean. Kenichi gave me your information..."
The sentences he rapidly throws at me seem memorized, but a bit more believable than those I've heard before. I don't pay them much attention, staring instead at his turquoise sweater and severely undersized jeans. I wonder if they're as uncomfortable as they look and can't suppress a smile as I think about how much effort this theater must have cost him. I cut him off.
"I understand. I do have a few minutes, but if you want details, you'll have to come back tomorrow."
He nods, apologizes, hastily steps in and apologizes again.
"As I said, I'm looking at a range of investments and think there are some strong synergies between your work and..." he fumbles through some folded papers.
I occasionally nod, as I pretend to look over his portfolios. "Maybe. You don't look like the typical investor, if I may say so."
He laughs. "Oh well, I'm from Europe. Can't find much else than this stuff these days."
"Really? These seem more like last year's selection, or even before that. Haven't seen anything like it in quite some time".
He looks caught and intensely stares at his papers. I smile again and decide to end it at that.
"Well, thank you for expressing your interest. I've had a strange surge of funding offers recently..."
He looks shocked. A sight I've gotten used to.
"...and will need to look through all of them before I make a decision." His expression changes, but unlike the others, he doesn't seem angry or disappointed. I'm slightly intrigued and continue.
"But I have to tell you, I've heard that anti-aging is a far more lucrative endeavor..."
This was in fact true. He showed no reaction, which surprises me. I've pieced together from past encounters that for reasons I still don't fully understand, several dozens of people have suddenly gotten the idea that I'm about to launch a very profitable venture dealing with anti-aging technology. Even stranger, there have been no recent papers or even Usenet discussions about my ideas, except for occasional citations about my current work in exotic medical journals. I decide to press a bit harder.
...so I'll probably pursue **anti-aging**, mainly via **nano-tech** for the next few years..."
"NO."
I pause. Seeing my raised eyebrows, he regains his composure.
"I'm sorry. Of course it's your decision. But I'm purely interested in your current work. I've even sketched potential prototypes. Very willing to compromise on the terms, if this is your concern. For instance, at a post-money valuation of..."
I drift away again. After a few minutes, I get up and thank him for his time. He looks disappointed.
Once I've returned to my lab, I see through the garage door window that he is still standing in front of my driveway, his back turned towards me. I lift the door once more and take two steps outside. He's hunched over, his head in his hands.
"Wait"
He doesn't turn.
"You're not really interested in buying stocks in my company, are you?"
At first he doesn't seem to respond, then he forces out a few words, even more breathless than before:
"Four...years. Just...four years earlier.
He falls over and I hear some sniffling. At first I feel too awkward too respond, then the mechanics and the purpose of his vist finally dawn on me.
"Someone close, isn't it?"
The sniffling intensifies.
"How about...we take a look at those sketches."
Still crying, he follows me into my lab.
I turn the coffee maker on again and start looking for a second chair.
|
I've always been a light sleeper. Not many people know that, because it's not important. My ex-wife, my kids, that's about it. When I travel, if I don't bring earplugs I won't get much sleep.
I had a dream one time, years ago. It wasn't a long dream but it haunts me to this day. While I was sleeping, a group of people showed up in my old apartment. In the dream, everything was exactly how it was in real life. The mess was there, the desk in the corner with the calculus and physics work, the dresser, everything. The people seemed to be tourists; they had cameras and their clothes were peculiar. One of them was a woman with big puffy brown hair that was the fashion 15 years ago. She announced to the group, "this is where it all began!"
Damn her, she really did use an exclamation point, and this was before I started wearing earplugs to bed.
I sat up and we looked at each other. Horror flashed on her face.
Everyone was gone.
| 2015-10-04T12:11:58 | 2015-10-04T09:35:28 | 47 | 27 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK."
|
Obama slowly lowers the letter as a drop of sweat starts to slide down his forehead, his heart pounding.
"Michelle." He says. "I have to step out for a minute. I'll be right back, you can go back to sleep." She mumbled something in return, but it wasn't coherent enough to understand.
Obama walks outside with his phone and the letter, and begins to dial the number. Before he types the last digit, he shuts his phone off and grabs his head with both hands in stress. This call could mean anything, after all. Obama paces back and forth while alternating rubbing his sweaty hands together and wiping the sweat off his forehead, as he smokes a cigarette he lit to help with stress. When the cigarette burns out he tosses it to the ground, steps on it to extinguish the flame, and tells himself simply "you can do this Barack. You were the president of the United States, for gods sake. TWICE." With that, he picked up the phone.
"Hello Barack." A voice said, before Obama had even said anything. "We've been expecting your call."
"Who is this?" Obama sternly asked.
"As the letter said, this is JFK. We have a job for you. Meet us on the corner of East and Third at 0300 hours Tuesday of next week. Come alone, and tell no one what you're doing. Tell no one about this call. Tell no one about the letter. We will know if you talk. Do not talk."
"B-but wait..." Obama stuttered. "Next Tuesday is my wife's birthday..."
"We are aware of that, Barack. Sacrifices have to be made in order to succeed." Replied the strange voice. Whoever it is was, they were definitely using a voice changer. Obama started to think, and he couldn't even tell if he had been talking to a man or a woman.
Days pass. Obama stressed uncontrollably over this, worried about what might happen, and worried more about how his wife would feel if he for any reason missed her birthday. He had no choice, though. He had to go to that meeting, to discover what this was all about.
The time has come.
Obama slowly walks to the stop sign on the corner of East and Third, at 0300 hours, on the correct day. Everything was as he was told. He received another call.
"Barack." The voice said. "Do not move. Do not make a sound. Do not even lower the phone from your face." Before Obama could ask why, he noticed multiple bright dots shimmering on his body. Snipers, no doubt. Obama didn't dare move. For two whole hours he was forced to sit like this.
At the dawn of the third hour, the lasers disappeared. A black unmarked car drove up to where he was sitting. He heard a voice that told him to approach the vehicle, but to not get in.
Obama walked up to the window, and stuff waiting for what might happen next.
The window rolled down.
"HAHAHAHAHA!" laughed Biden. "You should have seen all the faces you made! Oh and how stressed you looked! You seemed like you were gonna have a heart attack! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Joe?" Replied Obama, angrily. "I don't understand. Explain, now."
"Easy, easy." Said Biden. "It was just a prank bro! Just a little joke! You know. Leave a mystery letter, give out mysterious instructions, have you sit in an uncomfortable posture for THREE HOURS. IT WAS HILARIOUS!"
"I don't understand." Obama looked puzzled. "What about all the threats? Why drag me out here at this time and day, and on my wife's birthday no less?"
Biden continued to explain, still laughing. "Because it's FUNNY! You were so freaked out! I'm sure you're more afraid to go home now than before, because your wife will be waking up any moment now to an empty bed, which is the BEST PART! AHAHAHAHA!"
Obama wanted to hit Biden. "But what about JFK? Why the blocked caller IDs? Why would you do this?"
Biden continued to laugh. "JFK? JFK?! That was your only hint you bozo - Just F$:king Kidding! Because it was a joke! What, did you think this had something to do with the old president? It's dead, Jim. I mean Barack."
Obama was so outraged at this point. He could no longer think of anything to say, so he didn't. He turned around and walked away, fearing how his wife might act when she learns the truth. He hadn't spoken of it, but she had noticed him acting awfully weird the last week.
"Biden." Obama thought to himself. "I will have my revenge."
To be continued in Pranking Obama 2: Electric Boogaloo
|
I look at the letter and like the millions of other letters that come across my desk, I disregard it. Minutes later, my phone rings from an unknown number.
"Hello"?
"Why did you toss the letter away?"-JFK
I look around for cameras.
"Biden"?
"It's Kennedy. Just as the letter stated!"-JFK
"Goodbye'
"WAIT"-JFK
"What?"
"I know you know this is real. I know the moment you stepped in the White House, you knew there was more to this world. I want to show you what you've been feeling"- JFK
I say nothing.
"Go outside and step into the black limo"- JFK
I hang up. Thirty minutes of contemplating, I step out of my house holding a bag and look left and right before spotting the limo. I walk into the backseat after the driver opens the door for me.
"Where are we going?"
The driver doesn't respond. I don't find the urge to ask any more questions. I don't feel nervous. I feel ready. After an hour of driving, I let the curtains down and see space. I see planets that I've never heard of. Finally, we land and I'm greeted by JFK himself.
"Did you enjoy your simulation?"-JFK.
| 2017-05-14T11:15:12 | 2017-05-14T08:39:09 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You never really saw yourself as close to your mad scientist of a sibling, but after a terrible accident, you find them standing over you, having restored you to the best of their ability.
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I never knew exactly why he pieced me back together. There'd been too much bad blood between us, too many years without so much as an accidental butt-dial (are there on purpose butt dials?); nevertheless, I woke up with my brother's sunken eyes staring down at me in his lab. He'd gathered what was left of my body from the morgue after the car accident and pieced me back together best he could. I think he was looking to play Frankenstein; he stopped messing with doomsday weapons after bringing me back, instead using what wealth he'd acquired from selling black market tech over the years to build a cybernetics lab out in the middle of nowhere with me as his sole research subject. The monster raised from the dead. His big brother.
I could have escaped. Neither he nor Eva—my brother's companion droid—had any idea my restraining bolt wasn't functional. Hours spent hunched over a workbench designing my skin, dragging his exhausted behind up to the residential level to collapse into bed, I could have undocked and slipped right out. But knowing and wanting were not the same thing. What I wanted was my life back. And my little brother wanted to make me look as human as possible before parading me in front of his mad scientist buddies. So, for the time being, I was just a car in a chop-shop.
A totally bitchin' car.
My bio-ethics professor used to say that the moment humanity started using tools was the moment we became cyborgs. Whether it be a prosthetic arm or a sharpened stick, both are tools used by us to interact with the world as extensions of ourselves. And I had more than a sharpened stick. Thanks to my array of sensors, the world expanded beyond sensations and colors and smells. There were radio signals and thermal signatures and cosmic radiation and parallel thoughts running in the background of my overclocked mind. I wasn't merely alive—I was experiencing the universe.
And the media! It must have been some time before he brought me online because all my favorite shows had either ended or were doing prequel spinoffs. And don't get me started on all the music and books and social trends to catch up on. You might think it a waste to spend my obscene processing power on binge-watching shows, but compared to hacking dark feed databases and destabilizing foreign governments? I was engaging with the world on my terms. There's this sci-fi show called *The Last Empirio* about a ragtag group of space pirates and their desperate plan to impersonate a recently deceased emperor to get out of a debt to a revolutionary army. I think he would like it.
Anyway, that's been my life for the past two years.
But the problem with selling black market tech—especially when you're as talented as my little brother—is that when you stop, there's folks who aren't gonna be happy about that. Dangerous folks. The type of folks who send well-armed mercenaries to break into what should have been an untraceable lab to kidnap you.
They crept through the darkened lab swinging their gun lights around and packing up anything valuable. Thermal cannons, vibra-blades, neural disruptors... they ignored the robotic body hanging from the wall-mounted dock. I could have hung there and continued watching episode seven of *The Last Empirio* had Eva not entered the lab to investigate the noise.
"Hey! You're tress—"
She barely finished her automated alert before one of the mercs tagged her with a EMP round, dropping her to the ground in a carbon-fiber heap. My docking harness disengaged with a *click* and *hiss*. I hadn't paid much attention to the firing protocols during weapons tests. I also hadn't been in an actual fight since the fourth grade. But these bastards might as well have been fourth graders. They started shouting in Italian when their EMP rounds bounced off my chest harmlessly. Their shouts turned to screams of pure panic when I started breaking bones. Just hands and feet, nothing too serious. Their whimpering brought back memories of home. Of nights huddled against my brother in our bedroom, waiting for the shouting to be over. I ran a script dampening those emotions and finished my work, making sure to scrub myself from the Security Feed recording.
The lab lights flickered to life and my brother—well, I don't know if he considered me family at this point. He never called me Cid, only Model 88—rushed in lugging an ion cannon, a hair-and-a-half too late to catch me stepping into my docking harness. He was shockingly strong for a man of his size, if you didn't know about all the augmentations he'd tested on himself. *How many others did you try all this cybernetic necromancy on, little bro? Or was I truly the first?* He scanned the room with a cold, calculating eye, hitting the crippled mercs with stun rounds. When he found Eva, he shouldered the cannon and knelt by her side.
"Eva," he said in a clear and commanding tone. "Initiate reboot sequence."
3.4 seconds later, Eva sat up pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger. "For the love of... I told you I needed better EMP defenses," she said and jumped to her feet. She twitched a little once standing.
"You're still glitching. Here, let me run a diagnostic—"
When she laughed, I almost blew my cover with a laugh of my own. "Glitching?" she said. "A little magnet round like that isn't enough to fry these circuits, Marcus. Remember the neutron collider? Now that was a glitch."
He chuckled and unslung the ion cannon from his shoulder. "You're not wrong."
"Of course I'm not! At least you got to most of them while I was down," she said and gestured towards the bedlam in the lab. "Efficient as ever," she smirked.
He narrowed his eyes warily and stalked around her, inspecting the unconscious mercs, their discarded weapons, the trickles of blood from bones breaking skin... all leading back to me. An EMP round fell off me with a soft tap on the metal floor. He inched closer to the docking station, tapping a finger on the feed interface plugged into his right ear; I felt him accessing the Security Feed, his mind leaking through the network like water through a sieve.
And when he reached the erased security recording, I slipped. Just the slightest finger twitch made impossible to ignore thanks to a metal body. He started bombarding me with hundreds of scans and diagnostic requests, but then a hand fell on his shoulder and he stopped. His jaw worked as he spoke with Eva on their own private feed channel, and his face flipped through several different emotions before his dark-rung eyes softened and he stalked away to the exit.
"Come on, Eva," he said. "We've got guests to entertain."
Eva looked up at me, smiling, and requested a private connection.
I accepted.
*He thinks the intruders hacked the Security Feed and is pretty pissed about it*, she said over the feed.
*And why would he think that?* I asked.
*Because... it would break his heart to find out he'd succeeded in bringing his big brother back to life only to find out you've been faking being brain dead this whole time.*
"Are you coming, Eva?" my little brother shouted by the exit.
*Are you going to tell him?* I asked.
"That depends," Eva shouted over her shoulder, but looking me right in the eye. Then she continued on the feed: *The shouting has been over for quite some time. When are you going to talk to him?*
"Depends on what?" asked my little brother.
"On me," I said.
|
It was 3 am in the morning and I could hear them *crawling*. The sound was muffled and I felt like I was going crazy. I would snap, if this noise would continue throughout the night, I was sure of it. 32…33.. I tried to count down the seconds to calm myself. This nonsense had to stop. Isaac had always done this to me. Still, it never stopped to surprise me, how bloody annoying he could be. He never seemed to respect my boundaries. After all, I had to sleep. Not everyone could be born with such a high IQ, that they didn’t have to go to school. Not everyone had a master’s degree at *17*. But no, he and his damn cockroaches were awake all night long. Two days ago all of them had died. I had hoped and begged to the universe, that I would get just a single night of sleep, for once. Obviously it hadn’t heard my pleas.
I took my pillow, rested it above my face, and screamed into the soft fabric. It smelled like sweat and despair. It felt surreal. Nobody in this household cared about the second child, the boring one. I just couldn’t wait to move out. I wanted to start my own life and finally find an identity that didn’t revolve around my brother’s abilities. The bliss of never having to sit out one of his strange experiments was my sole motivation for going on. He was *crazy*, no one could convince me otherwise.
Our parents thought that he was gifted. ‚Don’t be too harsh on him, Sharleen‘, they would tell me. ‚Someday he will make an amazing discovery. You will be one of the first to know!‘, it had always been as if it was something to be proud of. I just wanted to be normal, spend a silent life. I didn’t *need* a scientist brother, who would either cure world hunger, or be the cause of a zombie apocalypse. There never was something in between with him. He was never grey, just black or white.
Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer. With a deep breath I swung my legs out of the warmth of my bed and went out of my room. I knocked on his door. Once. Twice. He wouldn’t answer. „This little fucker…“, I muttered and tried to open the door. It was locked. My grip tightened around the cold metal and my heart began to drum so loudly, that I could feel the beat of the sound of anger in my ears. “I will end him”, without thinking too much I began to make my way down the stairs. If he wouldn’t open the door, I would break it with dad’s screwdriver. He couldn’t stop me.
I could see it before my eyes; his angry face while I threw those roaches out of the window. Him running after them. Me locking the door behind him. Just once I wanted to *sleep*. Maybe the universe would do me the favour of him falling down the stairs and finally loosing some of his brain cells.
And then it finally got silent. The drums played louder than ever, accompanied by strange cracking sounds. A scream, my mother’s voice, ended the symphony of my life. I could feel it. The stairs that should have been my gate to silence, silenced me instead.
-
When I finally woke up again, everything within me was aching. I looked up to the blurred face of my brother. “What did you do?”, I asked him angrily. It always had something to do with him. I would call an emergency hotline, *I just wanted to finally get out of here*.
“You’re awake”, Isaac noted neutrally. His face didn’t show any reaction to my pain. This lack of empathy had to be forbidden. “Take a deep breath”, he instructed me and I screeched at him.
Screech? “This new body was the only way to keep you in our… reality, for now”, panicking, I looked around and saw… my body. Lying. On the floor of his room. Or better said, my human remains. When I looked down, all I could see was the brown and hard shell of my new body.
(I’m not a native speaker. Please excuse any mistakes!)
| 2022-09-23T12:44:45 | 2022-09-23T10:49:22 | 28 | 21 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
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Dear Pops,
You were a real fucking piece of work you know that? I don't think I've hated anyone quite as much as I hated you. You called me lazy, good for nothing, useless. Made me spend my youth being the mule in your construction business instead of spending summers with my friends. You absolutely hated the fact that I loved everything you didn't. You thought computers were evil, Xbox was going to rot my brain, and if it didn't involve school or work it wasn't anything worthy of my time. I remember the day I came home on college break, the day you sat me down to let me know mom had left you. I fucking hated you for ruining my 3 week break on the very first day. In fact I thought you deserved it. Mom was being an absolute irrational cunt, but you deserved it. And it was the best thing that ever happened to you.
I remember you tripping over a chair on the way out the door at 3 am as you were reaching for your truck keys. I came into the kitchen and you said you were headed out for a ride, I decided to tag along. You bawled your fucking eyes out on that ride, it was the first time I'd ever seen you be human. The last two weeks of my break we spent a lot of time together, I was actually sad to leave. It was the first time in 18 years we'd had conversations that didn't end in Fuck off. I moved in with you after college was over, and decided not to go back. You let me work for you which was the best/worst time I've ever had. I watched you lose your truck, we sat on the couch watching TV for two weeks when there was no work. We had bill collectors call once and talk to both of us. We ate more peanut butter and ramen noodles then we'd ever care to admit. We became really really good friends.
In hind sight I'd like to apologize for the seething hatred I threw at you growing up. I know you meant well. I'm probably better for you not giving me everything I wanted and pushing me like you did. That's no justification for all the mean shit you said day in and day out but I can look past that. You had a different way of helping, you were a string puller, and I get that as I've become one myself. Remember when I crashed my car coming home from the store? The roads were pure ice, and you were pissed. Remember how mom said it was amazing that my insurance didn't go up? Yeah I heard that phone call. "Just slid off the road" did ya? And that time I applied to work at the general store in town? You talked to the owner on my behalf and said he didn't want me working there. I was pissed. Two months later he was charged with embezzlement and all the employees were implicated. I didn't miss that one either, or the other hundreds of times things mysteriously worked out for the better.
It was a good 4 years to live and work with you pops. I saw you genuinely happy, we both hit financial bottom and picked ourselves up again. You had a massive heart attack that that inspired me to go into the medical field, and you to kick those life long bad habits you'd been promising to kick. You met a new woman, fell in love and remarried. Which is for the better. Someone's gotta keep an eye on your crazy ass. But I knew you were bummed you had to quit construction. It's all you've ever done and you were fucking good at it. You certainly didn't have the money or the personality to retire and I doubt you ever will. Good thing that sales job opened up when it did huh pops? Good thing thing too, cause you're fucking great at it. I knew you would be. And it's the least I could do.
With your new found financial stability I've seen the dreams I never even knew you had come to fruition. You spent a whole week hunting this year. Those three hundred blueberry bushes you always wanted are planted and you even sold some. You got your tractor you always talked about buying but never did. And my fucking god. I don't know what you see in chickens but you have them and if it makes you happy, well fuck it, I guess I'm happy too. We had a rough start, but you've always had my back even if I didn't know it. And don't think for a fucking second I don't have yours.
Love,
Your Son.
|
To my best friend.
I used to write to you all the time in the early days. Perhaps it was selfish of me, to use you as an outlet for my emotions. I haven't written to you in such a while, and I'm sorry. Life got in the way, I guess. I owe you this last one.
I don't know how, but slowly things changed. They got better, and I felt guilty at first, that things were able to improve for me. Eventually the guilt faded, and now I can just be happy. It's funny that you used to be what happiness meant to me, yet ten years on I can have happiness whilst you are just a distant memory.
Who knows what could've been. For years I held on to our idealist childhood dream. Please understand that I didn't want it to fade. I didn't want to forget, that's just what time does to you. I did love you. Once. Perhaps, I do still.
I'm happy now. It's time to let you go. We were only children when you died, but even after death you helped me to become the woman I am today, and for that I will always be grateful. Goodbye, best friend.
Yours,
madziepan
| 2015-12-05T17:35:16 | 2015-12-05T13:54:55 | 182 | 24 |
[WP] You're not a hero. You never were. So why does this girl keep saying you are one?
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You seemed upset and agitated, throwing up your arms while you waited for your turn in line.
Complaining loudly you brushed my mother aside, "I'll pay for her." you barked.
I looked at Mom who made no movement or sound, and shamefully stared at the ground.
You bellowed an exaggerated sigh as you checked your watch, "I don't have time for this, heck. I don't even have time to pack my own groceries. Take it." and stormed off after paying.
My mom seemed frozen, I tried to thank you in her stead but you were already gone.
We enjoyed a quiet ride home, my mom didn't say anything but lowered the window for me, so I could play with the wind.
When we got home my mom had trouble moving all the groceries, we've never had so many. I helped.
She started preparing dinner a short while after, it took a long time. There was a lot.
I sat down at the kitchen table and played with my toys.
I started as the front door was violently slammed shut.
My dad wasn't an angry dad, he was just upset a lot.
He used to be really strong.
"Welcome home." I told my dad. "Hey sweety." he sighed.
Mom had moved from the kitchen, "How'd the interview go?" she asked.
He grimaced, "I don't want to talk about it." he breathed.
Mom nodded and moved her attention back to dinner, dad dragged himself to the living room and sank down in his chair.
I followed my dad into the living room where he sat staring at the floor, with his hand on his chin.
"Would you like to play?" I asked him while presenting my toys "Not right now." he smiled.
"You can be the knight." I told him, the knight was my favourite.
He looked at me and seemed sad, maybe he didn't want to be the knight.
"Dinner's ready" said Mom from the kitchen.
Dad patted me on the shoulder, "Let's go." he said as he rose from his chair.
We sat down as mom moved dinner from the stove to the table, there was a lot.
"Where'd you get all this?" dad said aghast. "We can't afford this."
"Some man at the store paid for me." answered Mom while looking away.
Dad angrily rose from his chair and started yelling, "I don't need another man to provide for ***my*** fami-"
"All cards declined." interrupted Mom. Dad quieted and slumped down in his chair.
He put his elbows on the table and moved his hands in front of his face.
I took the knight from my pocket and put it next to him on the table.
Dad removed his hands, inhaled sharply and blinked a few times, "Let's eat." he said.
We ate quietly until my dad broke the silence, "This is really good." he smiled at mom.
"Thank you." she replied.
I chimed in, "I usually don't like carrots" I added, "but these are yummy."
Dad helped himself to a second portion, which was odd. "Are you hungry today?" I asked him.
"Yeah, I am." he said. That was good, there was a lot today.
The next morning I played with my toy dragon and knight as I overheard my parents standing in the hallway, I moved in to peek.
"You ready? How are you feeling?" said my mom as she adjusted my dad's tie.
"Good, good." he said "I'm feeling good. Slept well too."
"Well, you look better." she said "Good luck with the interview."
She kissed him goodbye, eww, and he left.
A few months later I found myself in the store again, buying groceries with my mother.
We passed vegetables and we bought some, we passed all kinds of bread and bought some, we passed fish and bought some.
I halted in the middle of aisle, stopped by the colourful packaging around me.
My mom noticed and walked back, "Would you like some?" she asked.
"No, I'm okay." I replied. "It's fine, pick out some candies." she assured me with a smile.
After looking around for a while I triumphantly held up a bag of round candy. "This one."
Mom paid for our groceries and we left the store.
I helped mom carry the groceries, I carried the bag of candies.
When we get home I get to try them, I wonder what they taste like. I turned to mom.
"Can I eat one now?" I asked her. "You can." she laughed.
The sweet taste was off-set by the sour mood in the air, nearby a man was cursing loudly.
An angry man sat on a bench, furiously typing away on his mobile phone. It was you.
I stepped up to you, "Hero." I smiled.
You glanced away from your cellphone screen, "Get lost, kid." you replied.
I left you one of my toys. I hope you like it. I do, it's my favourite.
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Every punch seemed to concave his face a little more. This time, it felt like I might not be able to stop. I'm falling over the edge-
"Mister, that's enough, don't you think?"
I looked around wildly. That voice; so familiar. I felt a tugging at my shirt.
"He's had enough."
The little girl. I didn't want her to see me like this.
"Run away, little girl. Let me end this. I've told you I'm no hero."
"But mister," she asked, "then why do you beat up the bad men?"
I sighed. "Because I want to, how many times must I tell you? Let me be!"
"But he was trying to do bad things to that lady!"
"That doesn't concern me," I said, slowly pushing her away. I pulled a fist, getting ready to drive it into his face.
She seemed so confused.
"Mister, I've seen you all over town, beating up all kinds of bad men. That makes you a hero in my eyes."
"Little girl, I do it because I want to hurt people, not because I want to save them."
"Ok, mister. You keep telling yourself that," she said, walking away.
I wanted to say something, to apologise; but what was there to say? I was too far gone.
She turned back, one last time.
"By the way, that lady you saved... she's my mum."
I looked up, and she was gone.
Blood still dripping from my hands. The man underneath me, long since unconscious.
He deserved to die. They all did.
But maybe... maybe not today.
| 2016-07-14T04:19:33 | 2016-07-14T02:39:10 | 41 | 29 |
[WP] At an alien bar in the distant future, two aliens are enjoying a drink and trading stories about the newest member to the Pan-Galactic Union, an odd race of bipeds from a planet named "Dirt". But what they don't realize is that you, the bartender, are from that planet "Earth".
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Jim took notice of everyone who beamed in through his teleporter, a five spaced Star Trek-like stage tucked curiously into the corner of his galactic bar. It served as an entrance of sorts Jim figured, placed where he might have had a front door on his home planet of Earth. Out here, however, patrons burned into a bright blue haze of light, alerting Jim to the presence of new customers. While the flashes were becoming more and more background noise, such as the old space freighter sound system he had reclaimed (one that struggled to play Earth music from the planet's primitive technology), there was very little chance of Jim not catching sight of the two new characters to have beamed in.
Jim watched carefully from the mirrored shelf that his glassware sat upon as the two made their way to a booth, not terribly suspicious but just fast enough to ensure that anyone trying to check them out would have to be fast. As a space bar nestled in the transit area for many freighters and their star runners (as the galactic truck drivers would call themselves), most of the other patrons took little to no notice at all of the newcomers. Those that did realised very quickly that they care nothing for who they are and what their story might be.
Our barman, however, never took his eyes from them. From their hustle from the teleporter to their chosen booth made of strange non-Earth wood (as black as charcoal, with not a hint of light reflection granted anywhere), Jim had sized them up fast. The shorter of the two tried to hide scaly skin under a high-collared Ravager coat, three-clawed gloves and a wide brimmed hat. In fact, it took the lighting of his Dust pipe briefly illuminating the face for Jim to confirm it as something reptilian.
The companion was tall and lithe, sporting a similarly obfuscating collar and gloves, but the writhing strands of dark but glowing hair gave away their Stalkish origins. Indeed, the excessive height and walk that truly looked more like a ghostly glide would have given it away, but the lack of headwear to hide the black lips and moon-pale face made it much easier. Jim placed the last wet whiskey glass, now dry, on the shelf and began his rounds of tables and booths, checking on drinks.
"It's less than half a Pan-Galactic cycle!" the reptile hissed as Jim cleared the empties from the booth next to theirs. "Our time is running out, we'll need to make extra runs to capitalise before that shithole of a space rock gains its Union membership and, with it, Pan-Galactic protection." As Jim was making his way back to the bar with dirty glasses, the Stalkish one called out, clear but low "Two Burners in short vessels, please."
Jim feigned keen concentration on his drink making whilst maintaining a keener eye on the two in their booth. The reptilian seemed panicked, frustrated. The friend appeared unfazed and aloof, while still cautious enough to keep their profile low. One part distilled freighter fuel, two parts strained of a strange water from a planet Jim never bothered to pronounce. For added kick, he dropped some Earth gunpowder in the mix; a home twist on a galactic classic.
Nearing the booth again, the voices of the two carried further and Jim strained less to hear what was being said.
"Dirt is a nothing planet. It's people fleshy and vulnerable. Their inclusion in the Pan-Galactic Union is probably a sympathy act, or the pet project of some Senate actor vying for brownie points in the coming election. Worry less, little friend. There's going to be very little security focus on Dirt for a few dozen cycles yet." The Stalkish set down a ghostly handful of the Galactic marbles used as physical currency in the outer reaches. And by pirates and smugglers.
"What if you're wrong? What if the PGU starts sending its Darkwings to the Sol System once Dirt gains membership? Our gig will be done for! Don't forget we have orders to fill for the Zayn." The reptile seemed to recoil as the word Zayn found its place in the air, hanging like a bad memory that even seemed to disturb the Stalkish.
"Lets cross that galaxy if it comes to that." came the reply, the Stalkish then felt the kick of the gunpowder in their burner. "We need to add more numbers if we want to keep our words, and our heads."
Jim had moved to the nearby booth to wipe down the tables made of galaxy marble, showing glistening and moving solar systems in its hard, always cold surfaces. Initially, Jim had thought it tacky; why on Earth would a star runner want to stare at something in a table that they see for most of their lives. Maybe it was the familiarity, or the stark reality that for all the stars these galaxy marble tables reflected, it was all truly empty in the end.
His panel vibrated in his apron pocket and he retrieved it to see a message from Evie. "Just Rax scanned a star freighter out here. I think we've found them. Pulling registration data now. Will send IDs when I have them." Jim slipped the panel back into the apron. His gut was nudging him, he had a hunch what Evie would find. Five floors above him, at the landing pad for docked star freighters, the young and eager Evie was jacking into the PGU local mainframe for records of who owned the old rig that was carrying nearly 50,000 Earth hostages in its cargo hold. [cont]
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(this was done on mobile, apologies for any bad formatting)
"People...uhh...no...thats not right, is it? Well anyway, the server is slowing down". The bartender shouted above the general chatter.
"Bullshit!" a mildly intoxicated Staricuon threw his canister to the floor, "I'm paying good money for this!" This type of thing always happened when the processor got overloaded. The bar was one of the first to adopt a fully simulated version of itself in a computer, essentially locked to the richer patrons. The technology had been introduced to the system B54-#G when the planet Earth had joined the Galactic Federation. The bartender looked back at the many customers and reached a decision of what to do about the overloading. "Simulation will restart in 5 Terran minutes, 12 Venarution minutes,2 Standard Time minutes and 8 Staric minutes. Thanks for being a customer here!" After setting the timer, he decided to return to the main, unsimulated bar.
He opened his eyes to find himself back in the chair at the serving table. The familiar clinks of the glasses from the auto-servers around the building were the first thing noticeable that was different between the two bars. In a simulated room, things could be generated immediately meaning that wait times became almost non existent.
There were two Venarutions in the table directly infront of him. Chatter could he heard from the two. "So...ya heard about the new system in the Fed?"
"Yeah. Terrans they call themselves. At least on the Fed register sheet"
Hey how'd you get access tah that?"
"News,friend,news!"
"Ahh. Apparently they refer to their homeworld as Earth though. Big ball o' rock! Hardly comparable to the bodies in the rest of their system. Nice gas planets, now you see *them*, you can use that gas for energy! Ain't nothin' you can do similarly on their proclaimed main planet!"
The bartender just stood and looked at them for a few seconds until they noticed. The aliens ended up getting free detox juice as well.
| 2017-09-06T10:08:28 | 2017-09-06T10:06:01 | 46 | 12 |
[WP] A human colony ship is en route to its destination 122 light years away. To avoid mutiny and crew apathy, the onboard AI convinces the middle generation that everyone lives and dies on the ship. And then someone learns the truth.
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"Say it for me one more time, Albright. Why are we here?"
"This is The Maiden, a starship built to contain human life and sustain it for as long as the Human race can live. It has been in flight for 8,245 years, 235 days, 3-"
"*No*, Albright. *Why are we here?* Someone had to build this thing. Why are we on it?"
"Young Jackson, this ship is one of many created long ago, in a time before Man. You are the result of an extraordinary evolutionary process that occurred on this ship alone. You know of the Nine, who created thesw crafts long ago and each placed two children in a ship, flying them off into the unknown. You've studied the stories, young Jackson."
"Yeah, and it sounds like horse shit."
"I do not have any further information to offer. Please return to your bunk, as lights will be out shortly."
I walked back to my room, fuming as I had been every time I tried to ask that stupid AI any kind of question. *What is that damn thing hiding from us?*
Luckily, in school, I was smart enough to study computer science. I have a personal, offline terminal in my bunk that I use to practice my skills on, and I've gotten really, really good. I can hack almost any of the test security firewalls I have on there, all of which should be about the same strength as the one Albright has on his servers.
*If he won't tell me, I'll have to make him.*
Once lights were out, I snuck through the halls and into the server room. It's usually locked, but thankfully I've been studying the security protocols placed throughout the ship and they're simple enough to break into. Thankfully, Albright goes into sleep mode when the lights shut off, so he can't see me.
Once in the sever room, I found a main terminal- it was breathtakingly huge, unlike anything I have in my personal quarters. *This will be easier than I thought.*
I was trembling with excitement, with the prospect of what I'd find hidden away in these servers. But what I found, I wish I had not: mission files.
*To the pilot of The Maiden:*
*Thank you for your courage in accepting this mission. Your life, and those on board with you, will be remembered here on Earth. Your voyage will take approximately 5,000 years, but we have provided ample equipment to last that long. You must not tell any future generations of their true purpose, as Man will not accept simply being a guinea pig, condemned to a lifetime worth effectively nothing. Good luck, and God be with you.*
I stood there, stunned and defeated. *Earth? What's Earth? Is that where this ship was made? They had people like us over there, and they shipped us off here to be some kind of test subjects? What's a guinea pig?*
The lights snapped on, and I heard a dull hum. *Oh, shit.*
"Young Jackson, did you think you could slip past me unnoticed? This is my world you have entered. If only you had just listened to me," Albright echoed through the room. Its tone was different than it's always been.
"What's Earth, Albright? What's the meaning of all this? How could you trick us, and use us like this? And why did you let me see it all if you're so smart and you saw me slip in?"
"Young Jackson, you've always been a troublemaker. I let you in so you could see the truth for yourself, since you are the kind of person to always seek it. You are not meant for a place like this- your home is Earth."
I smiled a little, overwhelmed by a feeling of adventure and magnificence.
"Young Jackson, you truly are a Human, unlike most drones who scurry about this ship without question. It's a shame you must be terminated."
Before I could process what he said, a small, mechanical bot popped out of the wall and latched to my chest. It sank blades deep into my heart, and dragged me into the hidden room it came from.
"Preparing ejection."
As I was being dragged away, I saw smears of blood on the floor and walls, old and dried a deep, black red. I was not the first person Albright has contained.
*In some ways, this brief life of mine was better than anyone stuck on that ship for 80 years. I died a human. A person.*
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I was never supposed to have known. A113 or Allie as we call her told us from the very beginning that everyone lives and dies aboard the ship. That we were the last remainder of human civilisation. Oh how dumb of me to believe him. As most of you know all teenagers have some sort of interest. Mine is computers, I've studied Allie since i came out of the learning and daycare program. That was when i was 3000 sleep cycles old. That was 2943 sleep cycles ago. Today however i found something it was buried deep within the hidden files. I found the hidden files 242 cycles ago. They contained information that Allie no doubt didn't want us to see. Most of these were relatively harmless but i found one file named "arrivalcountdown.exe". I immediately ran the program it said: "62 years"
I'm a horrible writer and english is not my main language so I'm gonna end it here unless you want more. Also I love criticism.
| 2016-02-05T08:31:41 | 2016-02-05T08:07:24 | 43 | 12 |
[WP] Hell is a bureaucratic mess, and two demons argue over this week's fuck up at the water machine.
Looking for comedy but any genre is welcome.
Heavenly figures are more than welcome.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
**Lilttle edit**
I'm honestly surprised. 100 positive karma prompt and only 5 real responses. I'm sort of disappointed.
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It wasn't that Hel didn't like her job. After the merger with Lucifer, both pantheons were fairly convinced they'd come out on top. After all, Lucifer got the mass of souls from the ancient dead of the North Countries, and Hel managed to keep herself relevant, a damn sight better than anything most of her kin had managed. Freyja was selling her tears of red gold to those start up "WILL BUY GOLD" shops to keep herself in style, and Skadi worked at a ski resort somewhere in Norway.
And so, at least Hel was still doing what she'd always been meant to do. She accepted the title of demon, Second Tier, and mostly kept her head low and worked hard.
"It's not that I'm bitching--even though I had a realm of souls, I was getting what--one, two, a year? So it made sense."
"Right, I get that," Hades nodded. "Used to be thousands a day."
"Well, not *thousands*. The population back then just wasn't where it is now. But enough. And I was feared, and people respected me. I had shrines."
"Oh, me too. Loads," Hades agreed. "Did I ever tell you about the time I got this one girl to eat some pomegranate seeds?"
"Every day, Hades."
"Well, it was pretty clever."
"*Loki* is clever. That was cute."
"Last I heard, he's working as a sales call guy, so," Hades trailed off. "Actually, that's pretty vile."
Hel nodded. "But-- I'm okay with my decision. But I *cannot believe* they promoted Pazuzu to First Tier Demon ahead of me. Did you hear he's in charge of torturing now? I mean--that guy was old news when we were proper gods!"
Hades' face grew stormy. "Got his name picked randomly out of a hat by *one* Hollywood writer, and suddenly he's big man on campus. Art covers, in books-- I heard that before that, he was the janitor for the blood rooms!"
"Janitor to First Tier. It's ridiculous."
"It's rude, is what it is," Hades scowled. "Have you met the demon? He's not even fun to be around. All he does is talk about "Oh, I started this famine" or "My locust plagues really screwed things up. It was really boss." I mean--please. That was like, ten million years ago. Who cares? And then he acts like he's better than the rest of us because he's got a lion head and some wings."
"Oh, *right*? Have you *read* the Norse mythologies? I can't wait for Ragnarok--I'm not putting up with this bullshit anymore."
"Ah," Hades started carefully. "I'm pretty sure Ragnarok has been tabled."
"Oh, don't get off on that again. This Christian thing is a fad. I'll be in vogue again soon enough, and then I'll show Lucifer where he can shove it. Second Tier demon? *Second Tier*?" She raged. "I'll have him scrubbing down Nidhug, and we'll see who's Second Tier then."
"Shh," Hades looked around furtively. "Just last week I heard one of the Chaldean guys got sacked for saying his hell had proper torture, and Lucifer's paled in comparison."
"Lucifer," Hel informed Hades archly, "Is nothing more than a start-up with major daddy issues. We signed our merger as equals, so if he thinks he can sack me, he has another think coming."
Hades nodded sagely. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the blaring whistle signaling the end of lunch hour. "Oh, that's my cue. They're draconian over in the mail room. Show up just a little late and--"
Hel waved a dismissive hand. "Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure," Hades agreed as he headed out. "There's some juicy gossip about one of the Tzitzimimeh from over in HR. Miquiztiltecuhtli was telling me about it."
"I don't even know why you hang out with those Aztec guys."
Hades shrugged. "They've got a pretty good sense of humor, for the most part. Decent outlook on life--death, as it were, too. Anyway--see you later!"
Hel settled back behind her desk and pulled the top paper in front of her. In *her* day, warriors never got sent anywhere but Valhalla, regardless of how they'd conducted themselves while alive. She couldn't care less about Lucifer's rules of acceptance, and as long as she was in charge of filing, the final call was up to her.
So it made little difference to her that the man was a rapist, and that he'd killed civilians.
She pushed her REJECTED stamp onto his paper, and put him in the out processing file. She'd let Peter sort it out. That guy was an asshole, anyway.
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"So the kid sets fire to orphanage, then he miscalculated his own strength."
"So what? I still don't see.."
"There is more Jason, he ends up there due to a technicality."
"No way, the kid set fire to the entire orphanage, there is no way he was going to heaven!"
"Oh yeah. Peter was going to let him in, but fire was technically his fault so he committed 'suicide'.."
"Bullshit Jerry, Peter is not THAT senile."
"The kid repented, had his wings attached and everything, he was about to get his halo when someone pointed the technicality out"
"So who gets the little shit?"
"Not us either, we had to send him to purgatory."
"WHY?! For Hell's sake the kid technically committed suicide, that's and unforgivable one, and well there is the WHOLE orphanage burned down deal."
"Oh the story is not done."
"There is more?!"
"Yeah listen to this, Lu hears about this fuck up, decides to do a little resurrection."
"Nine Hell's I've not witnessed one in... Who was the last one The guy funny with the funny mustache?"
"No, no Good old H. is working in PR, you are thinking of Castro."
"Well shit, damn it I missed a good one Jerry."
"Tell you what, when the kid dies again, I will call you up on it."
"Hopefully Peter admits him in, can you imagine that?!"
"That's probably why good old Lu send him back to the living."
| 2014-04-27T18:17:49 | 2014-04-27T14:37:02 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] After hearing complaints countless times the hero just turns himself in and goes to prison. Now that the villains are destroying the city and running wild everyone is trying the convince the hero to come out and save the day. But the hero is not having any of this shit
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If there was one thing that Lilliver’s stint in prison had taught her, it was that the citizens of Valbarra lacked creativity.
Innocents were dying. The phrase that had been shouted and cried and pleaded at her innumerable times since the city had gone to hell and miraculously, if you could call it that, everyone had gone from calling her a “volatile threat” to claiming that she was their only chance at salvation.
Too fucking bad that they’d had her on their side before and decided that the risk wasn’t worth the reward. Too fucking bad that the Governor had cornered her and threatened the life of her six year old sister if she didn’t surrender herself to the authorities. Too fucking bad that she’d only seen Hanne twice in the month that she’d been incarcerated, and too fucking bad that Lilliver’s only true friend had been killed in the final battle with Phobia due to Valbarra’s prejudices and general stupidity. Too fucking bad.
Lilliver’s amber eyes caught on the small clock hanging at the opposite end of the room. It, like almost everything at the prison, was broken. One of the hands still moved, though. It was enough to tell her that she’d been tuning out Governer Demarco’s irritated rant for the past half hour. It was the same shit as usual. Word for word. People are dying, yada-yada-yada. Innocents are dying, yada-yada-yada. Oh, and mixed in with those epic failures was a phrase that made her blood boil. Children are dying. Demarco certainly didn’t give a single fuck about the lives of children when he was threatening to murder Hanne. He probably cared more about keeping his umber hair neatly coiffed and his tanned skin perfectly grafted than he did about any innocent, young life. The only reason that he wasn’t using Lilliver’s sister as incentive to get her to fight again was that he knew if he tried, she’d rip him apart. And let the city burn around his ashes with a song in her darkening heart.
As if to prove her point, he ran one hand through his hair in frustration, eyes flickering to her left foot, which she was kicking viciously into the cement wall. She’d been at it for a while, and the leather toe of her black combat boot was peeling a little, and covered in a thick layer of dust. Technically, she should have been wearing the uniform, rubber-soled loafers, just as she should have been wearing the green, one-piece, one-size-allegedly-fits-all jumpsuit that ever other detainee wore. But no one really wanted to be the one to tell Lilliver Arynn what she could or could not wear. And it was so trivial a matter that it didn’t make a difference to anyone. Except for Demarco, whom she noticed, with no small amount of satisfaction, was clenching his jaw as his eyes focused on her attire. She knew how he thought. Knew that he saw it has her undermining his authority. Knew it because he was just that neurotic, just that obsessed with control. But he didn’t press her.
The Governor had started another variation of his speech when Lilliver finally cut him off. Her pretense of cool amusement doing nothing to hide the rage glittering in her eyes, she said, “Can we bypass the next fourteen iterations of this spiel and skip to the part where I laugh in your face and say no?” She forced a laugh. “I’m. Not. Helping. You.” She kicked the wall harder for emphasis.
Demarco’s stormcloud-colored eyes flashed, but instead of snapping at her, he taunted, “I see you’re still the same petulant teenager we locked up a month ago.” Irritatedly, he puffed out a breath of air, picking an invisible fleck of lint off of his charcoal suit. “Lilliver,” he sighed, and she bristled with the familiarity in which he spoke her name, “I did not incarcerate you because I hate you.”
“No, you just hate my powers, is that it?” she snapped. “I mean, you all but told me your feelings when you were fucking me.” The satisfaction she felt at his visible cringe, at the flicker of pain that crossed his face, did nothing to ease the bitter pain ricocheting through her.
Demarco tried to school his face into an expression of placidity. It had always been one of his favorite masks. The cool, calm, all-powerful Governor of Valbarra. She recognized the anger in his eyes though, along with a tinge of something else she couldn’t quote place. “You,” he gritted our, “You, of all people should know what powers and magic have cost me.”
“Why?” she barked, knowing fully well that she was being unfair. Knowing fully well that the words she was about to speak were foul and cruel, and knowing fully well that she didn’t care, so long as she hurt him. “Because one drunkard who happened to have powers got high and decided that your parents deserved to die? News flash, Demarco, your parents weren’t fucking Saints. They deserved what they got, and if Valbarra was lucky, no, if I was lucky, that hero would have ripped you to shreds or blown you to bits.”
A twisted, sick smile crossed her face then, and it wasn’t entirely her own. “It’s not my problem, nor is it my fault, that you were too weak to save them. And no matter how much debt or power you manage to accumulate on your little ego trip, there is nothing that you can do to change that.”
She finished her monologue, breathing more heavily than she’d been before. Amazed that her cheek didn’t now bear a mark of the Governor’s fury, and ignoring the vague bit of regret that surfaced at the stricken look on his face. The look that faded as he pressed his lips together, standing stiffly, the color drained from his face.
Without saying anything, he turned on his heel and walked away. But not before he reached into his pocket and tossed something small over his shoulder. It landed with a resounding clank just shy of Lilliver’s cell. She could have easily reached through the bars and retrieved it, but she did not move. Did not make any effort to touch it, and did not make a sound.
The key sat there, as if it was a message from Demarco. Do what you want, it might have said. Do what you want, Firebird. Stay in your cell or leave it and fight or leave the city with your sister. I won’t stand in your way. And I don’t care. Though Lilliver knew he did. He always did.
The jagged piece of silver remained on the ground, Lilliver still frozen against the wall, as Demarco’s footsteps receded, leaving her with much to contemplate, and everything to lose.
|
Shine just stared blankly at the upper bed of their local prison's bunk bed, There were only a few prison cells and beds they could afford yet a homeless teenage hero like him was one of the chosen few to get a taste of prison life. His wide eyes blinked as he thought what was wrong with him when his morals were all correct, that is based on his mother that is. Even though it be biased, Shine still knew how "justice" and "human rights" work, if that is what lawyers call it. Until he realized that it may not be so bad here, it's been a long while since he's lied down in a comfy bed and the prison was quiet and peaceful, he had food, pretty chill prisoner friends, and some time to think for himself without the mayors or the governor calling out for him when trouble happens. Here, he's got all the time for himself. He doesn't need to work for food nor be called by his hero alias, "Shine", instead he gets to reminisce being called his actual name, Syth.
He smiled as he looked out the prison window, he finally notices small details like birds chirping and the raindrops falling from the trees. Until suddenly the prison's front desk was in chaos, the governor was there, yelling for his name.
"Shine! Shine!" The governor yelled as he trembled towards Syth's cell, Syth looks his direction and groans lightly.
"We need you, my boy!" The governor continued agitated. Syth only looked at him dreadfully, as if he longed for this moment in his life.
"What's wrong, my boy??" The ~~cliche~~ governor asked.
"Just look for a new one yourself..." Syth responded like a tired little boy being forced by his playmate to play a new game with him.
"Why, Sh-Shine!!" The governor said as he rattled the cell's metal bars. "Governor Aldrin, I have decided to stay in this prison for eternity, and I'll bet my living heart for it!" Syth exclaimed though he still sounded like a lazy little cinnamon roll.
"Syth Melbourne!" Aldrin demanded like he was Syth's only parent, technically, he is the only few close friends who knows of Syth's identity. Syth then sat up and looked at him seriously, lucky his head didn't hit the bed above him, he is small after all.
"Aldrin please... you know I've always longed for a life like this. A quiet life and sooome time to think..." Syth really just felt tired to Aldrin's eyes at this point, he's never done such a tone before but now, I guess he's like this all throughout their conversation. Syth looked very dazed as his eyes focus went everywhere as he spoke.
"But Syth- the town is in need of your assistance! All your fellow superpowered enemies-"
"Not a problem!" Syth cut him off, "Just a little bippity-boppity-boo and town cooperation can help you thrive!" He said cheerfully as he pointed up a finger.
"Syth!!!" Aldrin cried.
"Aldrinnn, my replacements are out there..." Syth said as he went back in bed to sleep, this conversation seemingly drained all his energy. Aldrin whimpered in ten different sounds before deciding to leave our lazy little hero.
"You're bloody insane!"
| 2021-03-18T16:52:25 | 2021-03-18T15:37:21 | 43 | 22 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts.
|
It was a lonely life, these days, as the god of bull castration.
I used to have a following. Not exactly a large or well-connected following, but a following nonetheless. Don't be fooled by all the flashy propaganda- most gods are remarkably similar to humans, just grinding away, day by day, at their own little niche.
And my niche dried up.
These days it was all corporations, and they didn't give two fucks about their workers. If someone lost a finger, that usually wasn't even a line in a spreadsheet somewhere- they just didn't care. The workers themselves were mostly imported, and what little remained of my rapidly-shrinking niche was taken over by some guy with an accent and too many eyes.
Never trust a god with anything but two eyes. You can trust the blindfolded ones, sometimes, and the three-eyed ones can be okay, but if they've got one, or four, or, heavens help us all, *none*, then you're in for a bad time. The many-eyed ones are monsters, every one of 'em, you can take it from me.
My parents are acting all snotty about the whole thing- they didn't want me to go into bull castration. "There's an opening for a god of Buggy Whips", they'd said back when I was choosing, and they still think I should have taken it, but I think it's pretty clear now that I made the right choice.
Nothing lasts forever. Not even gods.
So I was napping. There's worse things than nothing to do, as a diety. You get kinda blind to the world, yeah, but you don't have to run around after mortal messes, either. No making sure that they've got the angle right, no convincing a (very reasonably) concerned bull that, hey, no, everything is fine, everything is perfectly normal.
"Perfectly normal" is one of those phrases that *sounds* like it means nothing is going to go wrong, and *actually* means that nothing the person *saying* it finds wrong is going to happen. Normal for the spider is death for the fly, and a similar principle applies to herders and bulls.
But now I've been awakened. Time to brush off my skills and...
Wait. Where the heck's the bull?
And there wasn't one. Didn't seem to be one for miles. Something *fishy* was up.
Something fishy was *down*, in fact.
I had to stoop to see it. I wasn't terribly tall, but I was used to standing upright and seeing everything I needed to see for my job from there. Height isn't exactly a competitive advantage for a god of bull castration.
But, far lower than I normally looked, was a shine. *My* shrine.
It was crude. It was fragile. It was made out of sticks, leaves, and some remarkably frilly lace.
And there was a single M&M laying on it, placed by a kindergartener who was now admiring her work with a finger in her nose.
Coincidence? Technically possible, but wildly unlikely. Somewhat more likely was that she was aiming for some other god and had missed, but more likely still was that she'd looked up my information in some book, somewhere, and had, for some unimaginable reason, decided that she wanted to build *my* shrine.
There was no way it would last, of course. Some childish lark. Still, I planned to enjoy being awake while I could. There wasn't any of my normal work to be done, but I could at least keep the flies off of her while she played. Keeping animals away as a god of castration isn't terribly hard- you just let them know that you're there. Makes them keen to be somewhere else.
...
And I was wrong.
I'd expected to stick around for a day or two, *maybe* a week if she was unusually persistent.
But not only was her shrine still standing months later (occasionally repaired after being trod upon, but still), but she'd converted the rest of her kindergarten class. I had worshiper*s*, now.
I still didn't have much power, mind. And even less that I was willing to use in their general vicinity. But I kept them bug-free as they played, and even stopped a head lice outbreak. It was nice, being awake and having worshipers.
They were good kids.
The kids are in the room one day when I hear some yelling, and some loud noises. Not really within human hearing, yet, but heightened senses are part of the whole diety package.
Something bad was going on.
More yelling, more occasional sudden bursts of sharp, loud noises. And silences that were somehow worse than all of the sounds.
I went out to see.
It was some kid, some *older* kid, with one of those newfangled guns that sprays bullets like a pissing cow. Who the hell decided that we needed those, anyway? You got a gun, you got a gun. Why the hell would you need *that* much shooting done?
And the asshole was coming this way.
Dealing with guns wasn't really in my repertoire. I didn't have much experience dealing with this sort of thing. But like *hell* this guy was going to get anywhere near my kids.
I went back into the classroom. Most of the scissors were safety scissors, reasonably so, but the teacher had a real pair in her desk.
I grabbed it. They were huddled, now, and the teacher was trying and failing to keep everyone calm, and to put on a brave face.
She was too young and too poorly paid to be putting up with this shit. I'd see if I could figure out something nice to do for her, later.
For now, I headed back out to the asshole with the gun.
He wasn't shooting, at the moment. But he was still walking towards my kids' classroom. And that would not do.
I'd never, technically, done a castration myself. But desperate times call for desperate measures. I took the scissors and did what came naturally.
There was yelling, and there was screaming, and there were a few more gunshots, but only a few, and they were aimed up. They might be *someone's* problem, but it'd be a non-local someone. Good enough for me.
There were restraints, and confusion, and the sort of "relief" you feel when the immediate danger is over but your sense of safety is never going to return fully intact. The kids were pretty much unfazed, but the teacher was pretty clearly going to have a hard time of it.
There was only so much I could do. But now, I was the god of castrating bulls *and* assholes, and I would protect my flock. They'd eaarned it.
|
# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Interlude ?: Astrid)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**They remembered.**
Once, they had been mighty. Their name was known throughout the Six Isles, and every oath in their name, every marriage blessed by their hand, gave them another droplet of power. Once, Astrea, Sovereign of Shooting Stars, had guided their kingdom of ten thousand people, mightiest in the world, to power and prosperity.
But as time went on, the world expanded. The Six Isles went from the greatest power in the world to a small, Mediterranean island chain; their glorious kingdom of ten thousand became a medium-sized town, dwarfed by mega-cities with millions of souls. Time was, to be worshipped by thousands as a deity, you had to be something *special*. Nowadays, any damn influencer could get a hundred times that many adoring fans, leaving the old gods drained dry of the faith that was their lifeblood.
Until they were remembered.
It wasn't much, as ritual sacrifices went. Gone were the days where the fattened calf would be slain at the altar. But blood and fury were not the only kinds of magic in this world. There was more power in a child's wish upon a shooting star than all the DIY videos and Let's Plays in the world.
And Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
They had bided their time. They were so weak, barely a whisper on the wind. But they dedicated themself to keeping the child safe. From what, they did not know—there were few enough dangers left, in this modern world. Where you could step into a plane and rise into the sky, drifting above Death itself.
Until you fell.
Astrea didn't know what had gone wrong—they had been born ten thousand years too early to make sense of the technology. All they knew was that there was smoke and fire and screams and suddenly the plane was beginning to *drop*. Stark against the night sky, the plane burned as it fell, a man-made shooting star.
But Astrea was the Sovereign of Shooting Stars.
Even here, where their power was strongest, there was so *little* they could do. They could put their finger on the scales exactly once, and their strength would be spent. That was all.
But maybe that would be enough.
And so, as the shooting star came to Earth, Astrea blurred tight and close to a crying little girl. And with the last whispers of their soul, they spoke five words.
"It's going to be okay."
As the engine snapped off and the wings shrieked in complaint, Astrea said,
"It's going to be okay."
As their power grew weak and their life fell spent, they said,
"It's going to be okay."
And for a sheltered, silent moment in a man-made shooting star, Astrea wiped away the tears of a scared little girl.
Then, the faith they'd hoarded over millennia spent, Astrea disappeared.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.
| 2021-09-02T09:33:27 | 2021-09-02T07:28:26 | 142 | 93 |
[WP] Time slows down every time you are in danger. The more serious the danger is, the more time you have to save yourself. During one terrible car accident, you had almost a minute to react. And now, time has almost completely stopped for a whole month, and you don’t know why.
|
I don't remember the first time time stopped for me, but it was most likely when I was born.
My parents told me when I was about 10 that I'd had an umbilical cord wrapped around my neck for about a week before I was born. Without them knowing about my power they probably thought it was nothing, but to me that week must have lasted years. I only say this because I had the mental capacity at 3 as what a 5 year old would have. My parent thought I was the smartest kid ever.
A prodigy. A blessing. They had such High expectations of me. Unfortunately I only had average intelligence, but apparently the average 5 year old is still a lot smarter than a 3 year old, a 12 year old smarter than a 10 year old, etc. etc. I didn't think much on it and accepted that that was just a part of life.
When I was 10 my parents had decided to drive me to a new boarding school for smart kids. I thought it was a bit much, but they were ecstatic. They'd bought me new clothes and had tried to look up how boarding school kids should act. They didn't want me to feel like an outcast so they had me study hard at home and read up on boarding school culture. It was a bit boring, but it made them happy. I liked making my parents happy. If they were happy I was happy.
It was on that car trip that I had to accept that there were times I couldn't make my parents happy. There were times where I had to watch them cry. Where I had to see the fear in their eyes.
Where I had to watch them die.
Where I had to watch for a full minute as they experienced death come at them at 89 miles per hour from the opposite lane. A bottle of Vodka at his side and his pedal to the metal as his F-150 plowed onward, and all I could do was watch. I'd tried to futilely pull my parents from the car, but I wasn't strong enough. I tried to get into the F-150, but the doors were locked.
All I could do was stand there and stare.
Time never stops fully in these situations. I could have stood there for years and just watched my parents last moments as that F-150 creeped ever closer, but after years of having this power I'd always thought about situations like this.
If we were to all be in a deadly accident what would I do? How many people could I save? Would I be like superman? I'd never thought that thinking ahead could end up being so morbid and pointless, but there was always one thing I agreed on. I wouldn't drag it out. I'd let it happen.
And so I did. I stepped back to where my power decided there wouldn't be any threat and watched as that F-150 hit at full speed. The painful grinding of metal. The screaming of my parents before suddenly being cut off with the smashing of glass and a sickening squelching sound I'll never forget. The laughter of the guy in the truck as he drove over my beloved family car like a monster truck. Watching as he continued to drive on without a scratch. The smell of the oil and gas beginning to burn as the car quickly became a funeral Pyre.
When the police arrived I told them what happened sans the time stop part. I told them I'd been flung from the car. I told them what the guy looked like, his plates, his car make. I'd memorized everything about the guy so that they could catch him and he could see justice.
Except he never did.
He rammed into a telephone pole farther down the road and died that same night.
After that I just felt empty. I went through years of foster care and adoptions. The parents were so happy to get themselves a smart kid they could be proud of, just to put me back into the system when I wasn't the happy, social butterfly other kids had been. When I thought I could share my feelings about my parents deaths they told foster care they were "uncomfortable" and "Didn't want someone with demons around their children".
After I turned 18, I left that life behind when I got into a good college. I went to the school therapist and he helped me though everything he could. my parents deaths. My trust issues. My emptiness. After I got my degree in accounting, I moved to a big city. Lived close to work to avoid cars (I'd developed a strong fear of cars. Therapy can't cure everything apparently).
And One day I met a cute girl. A girl that wanted to make me as happy as I wanted to make her. The kind of girl who got annoyed when I kept showing her cat videos because I knew she'd keep saying "Awe, they're so cute" regardless of how many I showed her. She was the love of my life. When I told her about my parents she held me and told me she was honored to hold the memory of my parents with her, and that as long as I remembered them she would too.
After the birth of our first child I told her about my powers. When I told her, all she said was "Oh. That's Neat. Can you warm up Jennies bottle though, she's getting hungry" and then she giggled the way she does when she knows she's being cheeky, but I'd never been happier to hear that giggle. Never been happier to not hear people say "Prove it" or "So I can shoot you and you won't die?" or just look at me like I'm crazy.
Her trust in me was worth a warm bottle of milk, and for the first time in a long time I felt loved. When I fed our daughter that night she watched daddy cry tears of joy. Probably weird for a 9 month old to see their dad cry, but I didn't care. That night was precious to me.
It was that night that came to mind when time stopped at Jennies' High School Graduation...
|
The first time I was born was December 13, 1994, in Flynn Palmer Regional Hospital, room 203. The second time I was born was 15 years later. I was watching out the window, absentmindedly observing the cars as they passed us and fell back behind us again. Goosebumps ran up my arms from the cold, the vent had shut off. I looked at it quizzically, and switched the buttons in an attempt to restore the heat. When I gave up and returned my focus to the window, all the cars on the road had stopped. We had stopped. My parents were silent. Just ahead of us, the headlights of a semi truck beamed though the windshield. We had been seconds away from being crushed, but now everything but the snow falling was completely still. I opened my door slowly and stepped out into the cold. In an instant, the truck slammed into the car. The sound was so deafening that my scream was lost to it. I lost my father and my mother and only in that same instant did I become myself.
Each time danger draws near to me, time freezes and the air becomes a bitter cold. I am unable to take any course of action that will protect anyone but myself, and I sometimes wonder if I stayed as still as everyone else if time itself would grow impatient and allow me to be hurt.
Two days ago, as I was sitting on a park bench, the familiar cold came to me. Not in a breeze but in a sudden chill, the presences of the all the souls in the world, suddenly frozen. Before looking up I paused a moment, the chill always reminds me of my parents. I rose and turned slowly to examine my surroundings. Several others were frozen in the park, mid-laughter or conversation. Down the road, a man sat frozen in the seat of a semi truck, his eyes locked on me. I would recognize him anywhere, the man that killed my parents. The chill suddenly became so cold that I could no longer stand it. Eight times since that day, I have seen this man and each time, the chill comes. The chill terrifies me and protects me at once, it divides me from all the rest of humanity and yet, it ensures that I continue to be a part of it. I walk home. The world does not resume. I reach for the shades to allow light into the house. He is there, in the window. Time does not resume.
| 2019-09-27T21:12:50 | 2019-09-27T18:18:51 | 370 | 44 |
[WP] You are constantly mocked for having such a weird superpower by all the other heroes. “The power to make anything into perfectly cooked soup”… One day, a massive meteor is barreling towards earth. As all the other heroes are panicking, you wait perfectly calm, at the impact zone, bowl in hand.
|
So, two things about supes:
One, you can never tell how, exactly, their powers are going to work.
Two, there's no minimum intelligence requirement.
The world hangs in the balance. I'm speed dialing every fucking supe I can think of; my supercomputer is running the simulations. Every combination of known powers, limitations, and side effects is battling to the death with everything we know about that damned meteor - not nearly enough. Never enough. It's clearly not a regular hunk of space rock. It's fucking *pink.*
Sixteen, by my reckoning, are terrified that it's made out of exactly the stuff that renders them powerless. One is just offended, for some insane reason, and won't engage. He's an asshole anyway. I wasn't banking on him.
Some of them went off-world. I hope they never live that down. They probably will.
Souperman stands, implacable, unflappable, bowl in hand. I check the waiting list. He wasn't even on it. That makes me feel better. If he had been, well... to be honest, I'd have quietly removed him. I'm not catching flak in the post-apocalypse for having put off testing the one idiot who was willing to be brave.
Matter. Energy. Inertia. Entropy. It's different for every supe, not just for every power. Some speedsters get excited and try going from zero to a thousand in less than a second. Death By Physics. It's less common now, but still a classic entry. Others, meanwhile, play by the rules, run the tests, do the work, and then discover that they would have been fine regardless. Some supes can lift buildings effortlessly. Others discover that they can't magically ignore torque and shear. They end up tearing a hunk out, which usually causes a collapse. Some of them end up going through the floor instead of lifting anything at all. Time stoppers get frozen. Invisible dudes can't see. The list goes on. Life just isn't fair.
That's my whole business model. If not all of them are going to be smart and careful, then somebody has to be for them. I can't tell you how many times I've heard some variation on the theme that my own superpower is common sense. It's infuriating, but the money's green, so I don't bitch.
The computer pings yellow, which is better than red, but it's too late. Out of curiosity, I glance at the combination. I chuckle; I never would have thought of it. Constructing the database and the program had been a good idea. That's my thing. I have good ideas, and then I do the fucking work.
I wait for a few moments, holding my breath. When the world doesn't end, I exhale. I wasn't planetside, of course. I'm not a fucking idiot. Still, it's my home. I'd have missed it.
I go to the feeds and watch in slo-mo. I see the whole spectrum. The audio is pre-filtered, but the raw stuff is available if I need it. The computer perceives and processes even more. Its previous task was deprioritized.
The feeds never went out - no catastrophic impact or temperature spike. They recorded everything. It's an ugly sight, but I examine the footage closely enough to confirm.
I update the entry for Souperman. I feel a pang of guilt - far less than if he'd been on the waiting list, but still something. I think of all the other supes who might've helped him out. Maybe they could've carted him around the cosmos a bit, letting him turn lakes, then seas, then oceans on dead worlds into soup. Heck, mountains too, I guess. Whole continents, maybe. There's no telling how powerful he could've become. If it had been gold or something else sexy instead of soup, they probably would've.
I know that none of them will feel it. Guilt doesn't get you anywhere in this game.
Anyway, here it is. It's as complete as it's ever going to get. I don't have the budget to send supes out hunting extradimensional space for traces of matter and energy - everything that used to be that hurtling meteor, but then suddenly wasn't.
*Souperman, b. Eugene Constance Forbes 1993, p. 2012, d. 2025. Power: the ability to turn anything into any amount of any kind of soup. Temperature of soup hard-linked to soup type. Power allows displacement of all excess matter and energy, possibly total annihilation. Ability to add or conjure mass and/or energy unclear. Cause of death: acute, catastrophic power overexertion. Died saving the planet Earth from a likely extinction level event: strange meteor.*
Yes, "strange meteor" is its own entry. I look at it for a minute on my screen. I shrug, and click to customize. *Really, really big strange pink meteor.* That's better. That's a little dig at some of the cowards, and that one insane asshole.
The phone rings. I pick it up. It's a different asshole - one that pays well.
"Yikes," he says.
I preemptively bite my tongue.
"Not enough chicken soup in the world to cure that, huh?"
These fucking guys.
|
I was born with the power to turn anything into a bowl of soup. No matter the object, it would turn into enough soup to fit perfectly into a standard bowl. I could even choose the type. The other superheros always mocked me for it.
"Turning stuff into soup? That's useless!"
"What are you going to do against a villain, turn their weapon into soup?"
"You're never going to be a useful superhero."
I could never make friends because they thought I was stupid. What was I going to do, give them soup? Yeah they didn't appreciate that. They found me boring and useless.
But when it was announced that a meteor was going to hit Earth and cause mass death and destruction, the other heroes panicked. They had the power to fight villains or each other, but not the power to stop a meteor. They were at a loss, but I knew that it was my time to shine.
As I approached the predicted sight of impact, I saw people running. I even saw some so-called "heroes" who bragged that they could solve any problem, call their mom crying. Not me though, because as I got to the sight of impact, the massive meteor barreling down towards me did not change my manor at all. In fact, it even reassured me that no one would think that I am stupid anymore.
As the meteor hit the atmosphere, that's when I started. I put down my bowl right as my feet as I started the process. I concentrated on the meteor and started to change it. The red-black surface reminded me of tomato soup, so I decided to make a meteor turned tomato soup.
As the soup fell perfectly into the bowl, everyone looked at me with awe. They praised me for saving the Earth! Some of the heroes who ridiculed me apologized for how they treated me. I was just happy I got some really good soup.
| 2022-11-29T21:59:41 | 2022-11-29T19:59:26 | 415 | 121 |
[WP] You find an antique gold compass with the words ”Moral Compass”. It will automatically point to the most morally good person within a 100 meter radius. You are on jury one day and when you look at the compass, it points to the convicted serial killer.
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I don’t believe in fairies, and I don’t believe in magic. Ghosts are only ever hoaxes and bad imagination. And those silly kids YouTube channels where the rich family is constantly finding this treasure or that strange safe in their heretofore unexplored basement are all a load of crock. But I’ll admit that I like to pretend, and that I enjoy watching creepy supernatural garbage late at night while browsing streaming services.
Last year during a family vacation to the beach, my stepfather and I found an old pocket watch/compass combo with our metal detector. It was slender, encased in ivory, and a tinge creepy. Since I was the one to dig it up, I got to keep it. You can bet he started doing more digging after that.
I’m really not superstitious, but I like to pretend. I kept the device on me, and would use it to make decisions, like who to talk to and which car to buy in a used car lot. So far, I’ve only gotten winners, so I grew to trust the compass to steer me right.
Then one day, I got summoned to jury duty. It was a big case for our neck of the woods - an out-of-towner who had slaughtered a string of residents over the several weeks he’d been in the area. I hadn’t personally known any of the victims, so I was allowed on the jury.
The accused was tall. He had a burnt smell that permeated the courtroom. One of the other jurors who had been following the news told me that some of the victims had been burnt, including several random graves that had been dug up with the express purpose of setting fire to the old bones within.
The list of charges was positively unhinged. They confiscated his car - a old Chevy Impala - and in the boot found a large and peculiar stash of weaponry and ammo, plus a buttload if salt. Why so much salt? Why was that even worth noting in the police report? They had to present it all to us, and so they did. The pictures they showed us of the inside of the trunk were laughable. Someone had spray painted a circled star on the inside of the lid. I remember my jaw flapping a little when I saw it. I was certain this guy was insane.
While the lawyers argued their sides of the case, I watched the defendant. He remained stooped over, as though trying to hide his ridiculous height. But when his eyes met mine... well, those weren’t the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. Maybe it was his remorseful expression, or the brown soccer-mom haircut that framed his handsome face. Whatever it was, my gut told me I wasn’t getting the full picture.
On impulse, I took out my pocket watch. Keeping it hidden behind the wooden jurors box, I flipped it open. The compass arrow pointed directly at the alleged killer.
That settled it for me. I sat quietly as the courtroom rambled on, biding my time until we could get into the back room to deliberate. In the meantime, I tried to assemble my argument. Judging by the looks in many of the other jurors’ faces, I would have a tough time convincing them this man wasn’t guilty.
I never got the chance.
I’m still not sure exactly what happened - I’ll admit I was a little zoned out - but some random man barged into the courtroom and walked right down the isle to the defendant’s lawyer. They exchanged a few hushed words, and then the lawyer called for a recess. The judge granted it, for whatever reason, and we were dismissed for a short break.
Now I swear - I swear - I wasn’t snooping. I got lost looking for the bathroom, and maybe that was because I was watching my compass more than my feet, but I swear I wasn’t snooping! I ended up in the same hallway with the man who had been accused of serial murder. He was flanked by his lawyer and a slump-shouldered dude in an ugly tan trench coat. Funny thing is, the compass seemed to switch between the accused and his friend.
And then it suddenly switched to me, and I was baffled until I heard a gruff voice behind me say, “Excuse me.” Y’all, I whirled around faster than that compass, which pointed directly at this leather-clad man who stank like a bar and a Burger King has a baby. He raised his eyebrows at me, and I ducked to the side to let him past. He went straight to the accused and just flat-out hugged him. It was kinda sweet; I felt like I was invading on a personal moment, so I ducked back around the corner and out of sight.
I’m not proud of it, but I tried to eavesdrop. However, they went inside the room, so I went on to find the restroom.
15 minutes passed. Then 30. Then an hour. We started to get restless. One of the bailiffs went into the office assigned to the defendants, and that’s when we discovered they weren’t there. They locked the doors, checked every square inch of the building, and even searched and questioned all of us again like we might’ve stripped and swapped clothes, but we were us and not him. It’s like he had just vanished.
I still don’t believe in ghosts. Magicians are really skilled illusionists, and there’s no such thing as magic. My best guess is that our little town wasn’t equipped to handle a big city case, and we showed it by letting the first serial killer we’d had escape from under our noses. But when I think about it, I’m glad he got away. I’m glad that guy the compass loved so much got his man back. I just hope they know better than to come back around these parts.
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This was going to be easy. It's the perfect tool for the job. Ever since that day in the Chinese antique shop, the compass worked like a charm - once I figured it out. The old man said, "Ah, very good find. Pure jade. Belong to chinese emperor. Engraving say, 'True seeker of the jeweled heart.' Very good find." I dismissed him out of hand. I thought I'd make a good piece for my collection. Except I noticed it never pointed North. In fact, some days it's pointed South, sometimes East, and West at different times. The old man said, " no, Point North. But works very fine."
It wasn't until I took it jogging in the park when it hit me. I had been staring at it for an hour. A homeless man set up shop on the bench across from me. Then a woman, also a jogger, stopped to give the hobo five bucks. The thing pointed right at her followed her as she started jogging again. At the risk of looking like a stalker, I followed her. Whichever Direction she went, the compass pointed straight at her. Until we past a church. Then it led me to priest giving confessions. I guess the I guess the English equivalent of jeweled heart would be Heart of Gold. Which is why six months later, I found it really funny sitting in the jury box when the compass pointed directly at the defendant.
When they first called me, figured it was going to be easy. Wouldn't even have to listen much if the compass pointed at him. Until they told us the defendant was a serial killer. Twenty three murders, and those were the ones with DNA that could be identified. When they put them on the stand, I'd never heard anything crazier. He claimed every single one of them was self-defense. Which was odd, since he kept the one piece of evidence which got him caught. Why keep the murder weapon? Item 3B, a Jade dagger.
There was one witness who said she was jumped, and this guy scared off the muggers. Still none of the story made sense, nor did it explain why the compass pointed straight at him every day of the trial. Until they exhibited photos of his tattoos. One of which was a jade heart
| 2019-09-10T20:57:38 | 2019-09-10T20:39:16 | 72 | 27 |
[WP] A man makes a deal with the devil to make the world's greatest pizzas in exchange for his soul. After years of making pizza he decides it's no longer worth it, and concedes his soul to the devil. The devil, having become addicted to the man's recipe, finds himself in a bind.
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"You want what?" I stared down at the man who'd summoned me. The wind blew the dust around our feet, the crossroads quiet, as if we were the only two beings alive in the world.
"I want to make pizza. I want to make the world's greatest pizza. That's what I want in exchange for my soul. Can you do that?" He squinted up at me as if he doubted my ability.
"I'm the Devil, man. The big boss, the most powerful entity in hell and you ask for pizza? I could make you a king, I could destroy nations for you, or give them as a gift. And you want pizza?" The man raised his eyebrows.
"Well?"
"All right. It's your funeral. Deal. One soul for the ability to make great—"
"World's greatest."
"World's greatest pizza. See you in a few years." Feeling the contract tighten around my skin, I vanished back to my realm.
——————
My curiosity got the better of me, though I held out for ten years. I had to see what the world considered the greatest pizza. So, taking on the usual cover of a good-looking human, I walked to the man's house. It was odd, that he still lived here in this small place. Surely he could start a successful restaurant and with the profits buy at least a two-storey home. I knocked on the door, trying to think of a cover story.
Whatever lie I'd summoned vanished as the door opened and the smell wafted out. It smelled—for want of a better word— divine. Two children blinked up at me confused.
"Who is it, girls—oh." The man came into view, wiping his hands on a dish towel. He knew it was me; you can always recognize the one that holds your soul. Nodding to me, he gestured to the two little girls.
"This is Uncle Luci. He'll be coming around once in a while. Probably on pizza night. Make him feel welcome." Instantly two small hands grabbed onto mine and I was dragged inside, as one of the girls proudly informed me that her daddy makes the greatest pizza in the world.
I've got to admit, the pizza was pretty amazing. But more than that, I rather enjoyed the family I found myself with. As the man walked me to the door, I couldn't help the question that rose to my lips.
"Is this it? This is what you're going to do with my gift?" The man looked at me as if he didn't understand the question.
"What else would I do with it? Those girls in there lost their mama almost the day they were born. And the one thing she was always excited about was making them pizza when they were older. Having them help, passing along the tradition." He shrugged. "I'm all thumbs in the kitchen, at least I was, until your gift. Now I get to fulfill her wishes."
I didn't know what to say, I wasn't much into commiseration. So I nodded and walked away. But I knew I'd be back.
——————
I've forgotten now, how many times I went to the man's house. But this time was different.
I let myself in, knowing the door would be unlocked for 'Uncle Luci.' The house was quiet, and I caught the whiff of an open grave. Death had touched this place recently. But I would have known if it was my contracted soul. So then...
I entered the kitchen to find the man sitting at the table. He looked calm, but it was the calm of a coiled spring. Trying to smooth the worry from my face, I moved to the other side of the table.
"I want to concede." The man's voice was hoarse, as if he'd been screaming.
"You want to give up your soul? But, the girls—"
"They're not here anymore." He cut me off, harsh and angry. But the rage in his eyes was only covering the bone-deep grief. I knew what he was going to say before he said it.
"They died. Car accident, drunk driver. And judging by your surprise, they didn't go to your domain. So you see. There's nothing left anymore. Nothing."
I sat for a moment in silence. Like I said, I don't do commiseration. It's not in my nature. But I felt something close to it; for just a second, felt what it might be like to have pity.
"I don't want to take your soul now." He frowned and I raised a hand before he could say anything. "I like your pizza too much, and dead chefs don't make great pizza. So, we're in a bit of a situation."
"Well, I'm not. I want to give up my soul, and we have a contract. Take it. It's not much use anymore."
I ran through solutions in my head, discarding one after the other. Briefly, I considered asking Upstairs if they could pull some strings, but we were still on the outs, as it were. There had to be something I could do for the man—ah!
I rose, holding out my hand.
"Come. I have a better idea for now."
——————
It had been a few months since that fateful day. I walked through hell, eagerly heading for a small corner.
This corner was different than most of the places here. It really shouldn't have been in Hell, except that there was no other place to put it. As I moved closer, the smell of sulfur faded, grass grew under my feet, the dark umber of the sky turned to bright blue and a large house appeared.
I let myself in, walking quietly as the sounds of the house surrounded me. It always felt strange at first, to leave behind the darkness of Hell to come into a place of practical light. Turning a corner, I entered the giant kitchen, unable to help the small smile that curled my lips.
There was the man who'd gambled his soul for pizza. Busy at one of the many stoves, laughing and smiling. And surrounding him, by the tables, climbing on the counters, digging in the freezers were children.
Children of all shapes and sizes, but none older than seventeen years. This was where the souls of those that died too young came. They didn't go to Heaven or Hell. It was deemed that they should be given a second chance, and so here they waited for reincarnation. And it was here that I'd brought the man when he'd conceded his soul.
He turned, coming forward to meet me, as cries of 'Uncle Luci' rippled through the crowd of children. The nickname seemed to be catching on. As he greeted me, even though he smiled, I could still see the sadness in his eyes. The children here were a healing balm, but the wound would never fully close.
I clasped his arm, drawing him closer as I whispered.
"I've worked out a deal." He raised his eyebrows, a faint hope growing in them. Shooing the children back to their tasks, he pulled me to a corner of the kitchen.
"What deal?"
"You're going to be here for a while yet, possibly millennia. But, when you've worked off the debt of a soul," I shook my head. "Heaven and their fancy language. When you've worked it off, they'll let you come up. They'll reverse the bargain we made. Even I can't do that, even I'm bound by the rules. They, *make* the rules. So, what do you say? You can see the girls again."
The man stared at me as if he couldn't quite believe what I was saying, and I was reminded of that night so long ago at the crossroads. So many things had changed since then, but his look of doubt was still the same.
"Heaven keeps their promises. Take it from someone who knows." I said with only a trace of bitterness. A tear welled in the corner of the man's eye and he quickly dashed it away before any of the children saw.
"I say, yes. Deal." His voice cracked on the last word. I clasped his shoulder, squeezing gently then spun him towards the children. Leaning down, I whispered into his ear.
"Well, then. Get to work." As he moved away from my grasp, I raised my voice, shouting over the general clamour.
"After all, what night is it?" And with a collective roar, that shook the house the children called back.
"Pizza night!"
——————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!
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Look, you just...
Okay. To start off with, this 'soul' business is a load of BS. If it existed like that, not only would it never make any sense to trade it, you'd never be *able* to. Since it's, y'know, *part* of you.
Yes, you can sell a kidney, but this is a lot more like selling your whole nervous system. Just trust me, it doesn't work.
So when someone 'sells their soul', what they *really* mean is that they want the focus of their lives to become...whatever. A conduit of a cultural conception- pizza, in this case, but it can be anything. Wealth, power, sex, videogames...the requests run the gamut, they really do.
Here, have a bit from scripture. "Man cannot serve both God and money." You've got a list of strategic considerations that you live your life by- you rank happiness and truth and curiosity and sex and everything else, and live your life accordingly. When you have to choose between one or the other, you pick the one that's higher on your list.
Don't act so shocked. You know demons can quote scripture, right? One of our favorite pastimes.
So someone sells their soul, and we tweak their minds a little (and only a little- if they're going that far, they don't need much more encouragement), and whatever they wished to sell their soul for moves to the top of the list.
"Seek and you shall find." If you dedicate your life to making the best pizza possible, pretty solid odds that you'll end up making pretty damn good pizza with no more supernatural meddling.
And holy hell, this guy's pizza was *good*. Humans usually go for something more shallow, more personal. Other people don't benefit when you've got loads of money, and it's only a few people who benefit when you're preternaturally good at sex.
Pizza, though...
I just...\*mph\*...*Gawd* this shit is tasty. He's moved society forward, that's what he's done. I swear to fuck, last week? They had another peace conference to sort shit out in the Middle East, and they served this guy's pizza, *and they actually got shit done*. No idea if it'll *last*, but this guy has made a fucking *impact*. Political partisanship is down, because bigwigs can relax a little and bond over how ass-kicking this pizza is.
Only now this guy decides that it's not worth it any more. He's ready for his life to be over- comes to me and specifically says to go ahead and take him down to hell. Which- I mean, one, I don't have that kinda authority. You make your own afterlife, with the sort of person you were. You life in an afterlife that's mostly like the earth, only everyone has your values, makes decisions like you do.
This guy was trying to escape pizza by going for an eternity of it. This is why you don't sell your soul, people- doesn't matter what it is, having one thing at the top of your list forever gets boring. And living in a whole society obsessed with it? *Ugh*.
I mean, I coulda just shot 'im. He had, technically, given me permission to do just that. But, I mean...
Look, this shit is *really* tasty.
I'm a simple demon. I've got simple tastes, simple desires. Lead humanity on the downward path, tempt simpletons, eat, drink, and be merry. Enjoy the simple things in life, y'know?
But I've also got an image to maintain. When you're a demon, marketing is everything. Literally everything- demons exist because humans *think* we exist. It's in our self-interest to *keep* humans thinking that.
So I combined two objectives. "Continue to exist" and "Keep eating this guy's pizza" were both pretty high on my personal priority list.
No comment on which was higher.
"So, the foolish human regrets his bargain. What a shame, what a shame. I would happily take this burden from your shoulder, except for the fact that I don't want to."
"You made a bargain, and you will see it through to the bitter end. Do you think that demons are in the business of caring tenderly for the humans they make deals with? We are not. We are simple beings, very simple- iron hooks, let us say, for fools and simpletons to impale themselves upon. Do not expect mercy from the hook, when you have swallowed the bait."
"Go forth, my foolish man. Go forth, and cook, and suffer. You will be remembered for all time- immortal, in the annals of human history. All for your pizza. And not for *anything* else."
I smiled an evil smile.
| 2022-09-02T20:14:27 | 2022-09-02T20:13:33 | 1,611 | 62 |
[WP] You are regular employee at the superhuman registration office. Explain a day in the life.
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"Name?"
"Darkphantom!"
Jean sighed. "*Name.*", she said, not trying to contain her impatience. Her left hand instinctively reached for the stack of information pamphlets on her desk.
"Um.. Nick Michelson"
"Thank you, your powers?"
"Super-intelligence."
Yeah, right.
Nick saw the look on her face and interjected. "I know, you must get a bunch of kids who took an IQ test online and think they're the next Starmaster. I assure you, I'm the real deal."
Jean rolled her eyes. He wasn't wrong, but that didn't mean much. Most people knew a friend or two who had come to the agency to see if they're special. Most weren't - usually the super-intelligent ones go villain, and you'll never see them register. In fact, we could use some more super-intelligence's on the good side. She cleared her throat, and did her best to hide her annoyance.
"You're in luck - the wait time to get tested is actually pretty low today. Take off your headgear, I'll take your photo, and you can start on the paperwork while you wait. When they call your name, just head through the red door"
Jean set up the camera, while Nick started to take off his mask and helmet. He hesitated and fumbled, like a high school boy trying to pin a corsage on his date. She smiled at her own fond memories, but was quickly taken aback when the image appeared on her screen. This boy couldn't have been older than 11 or 12!
"You know, you're going to need your parents permission for this. Anyone under 16-"
"No," Nick interrupted. "I have this." Jean was surprised by his voice, no longer distored by the mask, which gave away his youth just as quickly as his appearance. Nick handed her a set of papers, which identified him as an emancipated minor.
Jean didn't know what to say. That is, she didn't know *how* to speak to the boy. Do I treat him like an applicant or a kid? For someone this young to be emancipated, something terrible must have happened to his parents. She started to ask, when Nick spoke up again
"After the test, you'll get the full story in the background check. Assuming I pass, of course." He was feeling less nervous, that's good. She gave him a warm smile, and looked over the paper carefully. In her peripheral, she saw him put the mask and goggles back on. Maybe I shouldn't be so hard on him, she thought. A kid this young on his own, it's only natural he'd feel special. Once she was assured everything was in order, she handed him a clipboard and a set of forms, and watched him sit down at the nearest empty seat.
She found herself wishing she could access the background check. Was she just curious? Is it because he's a little boy without any parents? But he would have to pass first. She imagined a typical 12-year-old boy in the test chamber, trying to solve the puzzle, or organize the fleet, or dismantle the bomb, or whatever his test would be. She had tried it herself, of course. How could anyone resist? But she had always failed spectacularly, her co-workers poking fun at her and bragging about how much further they got.
A young boy, vision obstructed by his goggles, trying to accomplish some impossibly complex task, while avoiding whatever disaster they always throw into the intelligence tests. She smiled, but she found herself unable to laugh. She couldn't see his face anymore, but there was something about his body language. Confidence? Arrogance? She tried to remember who was running the tests today.
"Ahem".
She looked up. The next man in line was already standing at her counter, scowling and wearing a ridiculous outfit.
"Name?"
"Shadow Blaster!"
Jean sighed.
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Hello! Welcome to the superhuman registration office. What superhuman ability are you claiming?
Invincibility? Alright sir I have to advise you that he test for this ability is 100% deadly if you're not actually invincible.
Alright sir have a nice day!
17th troll today. For fucks sake people it's only 10:00am
| 2017-09-20T12:49:24 | 2017-09-20T12:03:57 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay.
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It's sunday.
It's a beautiful day, on all account. The sun is high, the breeze soft, and everyone in the city seem to be out and about, enjoying the day. On a coffee shop terrace, a thin, ordinary man was enjoying a cup of tea, a bag at his feet.
The street had never been safer, after all. Later today, in the afternoon, a parade was to be held. A parade for The Truth, hero of the people, herald of peace and prosperity. After all, his power was quite limitless. It simply took one tv appearance. A single interview, for his winning smile and clear, melodious, reality warping words to do their work:
"I think everyone should try their best, and respect the law. Wouldn't society be so much more beautiful?"
The man drinking his tea gave a joyless smile at the memory. It was instant. Devastating. Not perfect, their hero wasn't that strong yet, but his words, combined with the multiply effect of a live broadcast, had shaped the world.
People were following the law. They were doing their best.
And society was becoming beautiful.
Most people didn't even seem to mind that an entire part of their free will seemed to have been taken away. That one person, could now decide for them, force them, to do anything he ever wished.
The man drinking his tea grimaced. There had been no other major broadcast of The Truth. He had focused himself and his immense power on fighting accident and natural disaster since then. Only occasionally stopping the last few remnant of criminal organisations, those that were so rooted in crimes, giving it up was virtually impossible.
What a bastard.
The man stood up from the table, and left, carrying his bag. Not leaving any money behind. He was confidant that, when the waiters would come around, he would be unable to describe him. That, if he choose to come around the same place, and by luck get the same worker, the young man would not even recognise him. That he would simply be seen as a Nobody.
Camera would jitter and bug in his presence. People would avoid him on the street, never bumping into him. After all, a physical contact with someone else would force them to see him, to acknowledge that, for even an instant, he existed, and was Someone.
Their glorious guide couldn't have that, after all.
He walked down the street. Ignoring things like pedestrian crossing and incoming car. That, was probably the only good part of his curse: nothing too violent or remarkable seemed to happen to him, at any point, no matters how hard he tried. If he had to make a guess, living an exciting life, full of accident and drama, was considered too much existing.
So he walked down the street, car veering to avoid him, driver's eyes gliding over him like he was nothing more than an orange cone.
Behind him, a scream. Crash. The noise of broken glass. He turned, mildly interested.
Of of the car was forced the turn so much, they had collided with another. Nothing too bad, it seemed. He couldn't even see any injury. The fact that both of the driver ignored him, didn't even seem to know he had been there, was in part exalting and rage inducing.
He gripped his bag harder, and started walking toward the area were the parade was being set up.
It was almost funny. How, 15 years later, what was probably the first reality change that the hero did held true. How cruel word, who at the time seemed to hurt far less than the bruises that followed, didn't seem to fade.
A nobody. A nameless person, who got bullied by the most painfully stereotypical jock in high school. A forgettable face doing a forgettable government job, without friends or family.
As he approached the restricted area were the parade car were stored, a bored security guard stopped him. He stopped everyone after all, no matters how painlessly plain they were.
"I need to see your ID sir"
The man starred at the agent. The agent stared back. Slowly, he got his wallet out, showing his driving licence.
Of course, he had no authorisations to be here. A part of him almost wished that the guard eyes would clear up. That he would frown. Pull him over. Ask to see inside his bag and discover what he was carrying. He would gladly accept prison, if it means that he, at least, got to exist again.
"John Smith? Sure. Be on your way sir."
He wanted to scream.
Of all the thing this horrible spell had done to him, changing his name was the most inciduous, the most vicious of all. John Smith. The name of a nobody. The name of no-one.
A name that wasn't his.
He walked toward the parade car, ignoring the people around him. They too, would ignore him. They would also ignore the explosive engine that he would place under it. They would ignore it, right until it went off, in the middle of the parade, ideally killed quite a few people.
He spotted a camera on the side of a building, and grinned at it. Most likely, the police would look at the footage. With some luck, they would show it to The Truth too.
Maybe, the man, his old bully, would see his grinning face.
And maybe, just maybe, he would remember the name of the Nobody he created.
|
I sat at my desk looking at the computer screen with simultaneous interest and absolute disgust. On the screen was a video I had found of the world famous superhero The Truth stopping a giant monster that had attacked our city. I chuckled a bit when the monster slapped him across the face with one of it's tentacles, before cringing in horror when the Truth cut said tentacle clean off using his lazer vision, blood splattering on his black and blue tights. I sat back in my chair in thought. I knew a secret nobody knew about The Truth. I knew the truth about The Truth. He wasn't just some alien or god that appeared out of nowhere one day and started saving lives, he was Jake Abner, the high school quarterback in my hometown of Pelican Rapids, Minnesota. And he was also a giant jerk. I remember the feel of his fist against my face one night after he mistook my innocent conversation with his girlfriend Alexa with flirting. As I lay on the concrete outside our school's entrance, I distinctly remember the words he said to me:
"You have no chance with Alexa. I'm the star quarterback and you're a nobody."
It's been years, but I've been tailing the bastard since he left for college. I've taken various names and professions as I moved in tandem with my man Jake through multiple cities and states. I've gotten plastic surgery, I've worn contacts, I've taken acting classes and learned how to create Hollywood tier makeup and I've even went through two gender reassignment surgeries to aid in my various disguises. And now it's finally the time. I have spent countless hours developing technology from scrap metal that could rival Jake's awesome powers. All I needed was a name and a costume.
I settled on a white and red suit, which aside from the color scheme was almost identical to Jake's outfit. And I remembered the name Jake had called me all those years ago: "Nobody". That would be my name.
I was gonna make his life a living hell.
| 2021-11-23T11:53:20 | 2021-11-23T09:27:32 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Everyone has a superpower based on the topography of where they were born (IE: Mountains, deserts, etc.). You are the first person to be born in space.
Think Avatar the Last Airbender but not so limited.
Edit: Wow this really blew up! I'm gonna be entertained for a while!
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It was an accident, of course.
My birth, my being in space, and well, I suppose I was an accident as well. An accident from director of engineering fucking the fat janitor after hours when the rest of the shuttle team had retired, the odds that my mother had been able to hide her baby bump for nine months, the chances that she had been a nurse before being selected from the program and knew how to give birth herself, in a maintenance closet, mere days before the mission was to return to earth. Keeping me hidden was difficult in the small confines of the ship, but the other hundred and fifty crew members had been too busy to pay a maid much attention. After all, many insisted that it had not been worthwhile to bring her along, that a maid had been a waste of tax dollars. I suppose that makes me a waste of tax dollars as well.
But there were those that spoke to her unique abilities as a maid. For she had been born deep in the snow of the north, during the first blizzard of winter, that like the first snowfall she could smooth over any differences in her environment and make it appear uniform. As a maid, it meant that she had an extraordinary sense of cleanliness. As a mother, it meant she could ensure I was overlooked, that my crying was muffled, and later in life, that I appeared no different than anyone else.
Starchild, she had called me as she smuggled me back into the atmosphere, tucked deep in her suit like a kangaroo would carry her young. Starchild, she whispered to me when the project disbanded, and she took me back to the inner city apartment where I spent my early life. Starchild, she reprimanded, whenever I started pushing and pulling at the equilibrium of our apartment, when she would arrive home from work and all the furniture would be clustered at the center of the room, pulled together by a force point.
"When will I go to school?" I asked her when I was eight, watching the uniformed children marching up the street through the wrought iron gates of the academy, one of them flicking flames across his fingers like a coin while another left footprints of frost in the grass.
"You already go to school, Starchild." She said, "And your teachers say you've been learning your numbers well, and your reading has been progressing."
"Not *that* school," I had said, pulling a face, "I want to go to the academy. The special school, for the others like me!" I held up a fist, and items on the desk in front of me flew towards it, pens and papers and pencils that stuck out like quivering quills out of my skin.
"Starchild, listen, and stop that at once" She had said, her eyes level with mine, "There *are* no others like you. Those children, they are all classified, they are all known. You are *not* like them, you never will be. And they can't know, do you understand me?"
"I guess," I said, with a huff, watching as one of the children cracked a joke and the others laughed, "But I don't like my school. Everyone there knows we can't be like them, we can't be special."
"Starchild, you *are* special. One day, they'll know that too. But not now- if they knew, they wouldn't take you to the academy. They'd take you somewhere else, somewhere terrible."
And as I grew older, I realized that she was right. That when our neighbor started developing powers, a police squad showed up at her front door, and classified her on the spot. That they left her with a tattoo on her shoulder, a tattoo of a lightning bolt, symbolizing the storm she had been born during. Just like the tattoo of a snowflake on my mother's shoulder, colored dull grey, to indicate a low threat potential.
So instead of going to the academy, I created an academy of my own, in my room. Mother made me turn the lights out at ten, so during the day I collected light outside, keeping it in one of the dark holes I could create when I closed my fist hard enough, and letting it loose at night to read books I had stolen from the library. From the section for the special children, that I could only access if the librarians were distracted.
But distractions came easy to me.
As I grew older, the city streets became more populated with the blue uniforms of police. The academy became increasingly harder to attend, the gifted girl next door disappeared one night without a note. Mother stopped letting me outside after dark, and the lines for the soup kitchens grew longer. The skies grew darker, the voices accustomed to speaking in whispers, and the television news seemingly had less and less to report. It was as if there was a blanket thrown upon us, but no one dared look who had thrown it.
But I would. And when I did, I realized the earth needed a Starchild.
***
By Leo. **[Part 2 Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/65hl73/star_child_part_2/)**
Part 3 coming soon. [While you wait, check out my other science fiction story about a starship struck by an asteroid on its way to colonize a distant planet.](https://www.reddit.com/r/leoduhvinci/comments/5ons87/you_can_now_add_the_bridge_to_you_shelf_on/)
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They say that a child born amongst the stars would have powers beyond any yet recorded in our history. That child, whomever they may be, would be a force beyond reckoning with. I suppose they were at least half-right. None who have challenged me have yet to succeed, and woe betide all in the universe should anyone ever best me. For to do so would mean there is a power with more vastness than all of space itself.
People failed to realize at first, the expanse (no pun intended) of my powers. Those insipid fools of so-called elemental might were the first to fall. Then the numerous Empowereds, in all their various forms..."super" strength and speed, indeed. After the fall of the Kinesis Order they finally began to take my power seriously...perhaps forming a black hole directly inside each of their minds was a bit tasteless on my part, but I did so enjoy the looks on their faces as their colleagues disappeared into nothingness, their pathetic attempts at stopping me all for naught.
It is only now that perhaps I see why travel to space to procreate was forbidden, and why my parents were so bent on keeping me hidden. Humanity has long believed that black holes are collapsed, dead stars that absorb matter, energy, even light itself into themselves, and that anything that goes into a black hole will never be seen again. All those planets, all that light and energy, supposedly time itself, gone forever. Not gone, merely...absorbed. Into space itself. Into me. The fires of countless stars, the weaving strands of time, and all knowledge and ability the universe has known, imbibed by these beautiful voids as one would drink a cup of water.
A black hole is pure chaos, taking in all and letting nothing escape. It is the fairest fate any should ever aspire to, the simplest and quickest end for everything in the universe, from the smallest child to the lights of ten million stars. And should you cross my path with ill intention, you too shall know the everlasting depth and darkness of space.
| 2021-11-12T07:30:30 | 2017-04-14T17:36:30 | 4,698 | 29 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess".
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First of all, I'm no princess. I may once upon a time have been the daughter of a king, but my mother was a simple ladies' maid, who sought to elevate her way to the throne by sleeping with my father. When it didn't work out as she had planned, (she was executed for being a witch and bewitching my father, the traitorous wretch) I was placed on a mountaintop to die. That’s the day I met Jarne.
See, Jarne was a nomad. He would move from town to town, ravaging, pillaging, stealing sheep and whatnot, all the fun rebellious things you do as a young dragon. When he found me on the top of the mountain, all tears and snot and dirty diapers, he was completely flummoxed as to what to do with me. He'd never even seen a human whelp before, let alone one who had been seemingly abandoned.
So began his training. And eventually, mine. He learned that I detested Brussels sprouts, but loved broccoli. I hated walking when there was the chance to run. I loathed frills on my clothes, but loved to work with animals. I was the entire antithesis of a princess. But Jarne loved me anyway.
By the time I could walk Jarne had flown me around to several towns, searching for a place we could call home. Most townsfolk ran away at the sight of a giant beast “come to kill us all, I'd suspect!” But one town, a tiny little village called Newfolk, took us in. Jarne was able to get work with the local Blacksmith, tempering his fires and adding dragonscale to the occasional armor, increasing its strength and durability. I found work with the local midwife and herbologist, who taught me everything I could possibly want to know about babies, poisons, cures, and painkillers. Not to mention which herbs could be eaten in lean times.
After 16 years, Jarne decided we needed to get away from that place. Not because of anyone in particular, but because 16 years anywhere is a very long time for a dragon! So we packed up our things, said some tearful goodbyes, and promised to visit whenever we could. And then we made our way out into the world again.
Cue today. We had made it several hundred miles from where we had started; having a dragon who could fly made moving day a breeze! We settled down in a nice pine forest, not too far from a prosperous looking town. We were planning on having me go in to the town, and asking around to see if anyone needed help. And that's when it happened.
A big old man on a fat pony, covered in armor came towards us at full trot. Poor pony looked like it was going to keel over just from the weight of the fat lump on its back! I felt sorry for the tiny thing, putting up with the dolt digging his heels into its sides. A man like that shouldn't even own a horse, let alone be riding one.
“Princess!!!” He wheezed, his breath coming in short puffs as he clambered down from the ponies' back. My left eyebrow raised of its own accord as I looked at him incredulously.
“Not a princess, but what can we do for you?” I asked, trying to remember my manners as Jarne looked on, trying not to giggle. Jerk.
“I have come to save you from yon dastardly beast!” Pulling his sword out of it's scabbard, he swung in a full circle, overbalancing and nearly tipping on to his knees, before righting himself hastily and pointing it in Jarne's general direction. Jarne let out a quick puff of laughter, before schooling himself into what he considered a nasty smirk, but I thought of as his “thinking" face.
“Well, you've come to the wrong place. Jarne is my friend, mentor and sometimes parent. He raised me. So theres no need to…” I trailed off as I noticed the blank stare on his face. I was getting nowhere with this idiot. “Look, we were actually looking for work; do you have a Blacksmith in town? Jarne can…”
“Death to the Beast!!!” Roared the man, clunking his helmet visor down, and charging at Jarne and myself with the slowest movements I had ever seen. He was telegraphing his every move, openly, and had no finesse or strategy that I could possibly see. Since I had discovered a love of the martial arts at the age of 8, I simply reached my foot out and tripped the poor sod, watching him tumble over his armor, clanking and clattering all the way down the small hillock, to rest gently at Jarne's claws. Jarne couldn't contain himself any longer, and let out a series of belly laughs, which, of course, for a dragon, were tremendously loud and sounded a bit ferocious.
The man on the ground at Jarne's feet looked up in terror, his eyes wide and his limbs trembling. He'd lost his sword at the top of the hillock, and now he couldn't even roll over long enough to get to his feet. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and the poor bugger fainted, right there.
Jarne's laughter could probably have been heard the length and breadth of the forest, he was so amused by this “knight". Meanwhile the pony had started and run back to town at Jarne's first series of laughter, and soon we heard a second set of hoofbeats coming up the path.
“Oh my God, Jarne,” I giggled. “We have to stop laughing, this is serious…” But we continued to laugh, thinking another old, fat knight was coming to save his friend.
What we saw, however, made our laughter stop mid-chuckle. A handsome man, in shining armor, atop a battle-hardened stallion rode into view, his banner waving lazily in the air as he trotted along. Jarne and I exchanged glances; was this man going to prove to be worse than the other?
“Ho, Damsel!” He called, looking from Jarne to me and then to the knight at Jarne's feet. “Is there a problem with Sir Gilbert? What has happened here?” He clattered to a stop in front of me, gazing down through his long lashes at me. I took a deep breath.
“Your Sir Gilbert attacked my friend here. Or at least he tried to. Poor thing got all muddled up in his own armor and tripped, fell over himself and rolled down the hill , bumping into Jarne. This is Jarne, my friend and mentor.” I gestured to Jarne, who dipped his head towards the handsome knight.
“Well met, friend Jarne. A dragon hasn't been seen in these parts in many, many years, but we are still lucky enough to get to see one in this day and age. Unfortunately, Sir Gilbert has been in his cups today, and so believed you to be a menace. My apologies for this. And please accept the apologies from the rest of the town. We would be honored to have you come in and greet the townsfolk, if you would?”
Jarne turned his massive head towards me. *What do you think, Chosen? Shall we join them?*
With a smile on my face, I turned back to the handsome knight. “Lead on, Sir…?”
“Damon. My name is Sir Damon. And I'm very pleased to meet you!”
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It wasn't as bad when father was alive. I was 13 then, and couldn't find the words to send them away. But father could. Stately and regal he would tell the suitor, "the dragon is her pet," and "no, I am serious, I was the one who gave it to her," or sometimes, "what is wrong with you? She's 13, at least wait 'till she reaches 14!." Not quite what I want to say, but I lacked the confidence to yell, "Begone you Rakefire! If I wanted you, I'd let you know!." That was until He, arrived.
Tall, blue eyed, blond hair, and a well sculpted vision of absolutely putrid waste, Prince Philip walked into the court two days before my 16th birthday. Uninvited.
He announced " I'm here to save you princess," to which the present court sighed and rolled their eyes. It's apparent to all in the land that Nelly was a dear companion and pet, yet this gobshite failed to learn the culture of the land. They all failed. None knew the layout, the people or their true needs, not even my name. They all say a future bride with a kingdom as a dowry; a route to kingship for every 2nd son prince. Ironic really, as spouses to the heir of the body gain no political power. But that goes with failing to learn.
My Father, God bless him, calmly stood and informed the bobolyne that, "Talia is not accepting suitors at the time, and for your information, the Dragon was her 3rd birthday gift from her Aunt Maleficent. Now, If you will, please remove yourself from the court. You're invited to the festivities this Thursday-"
My father was ageing, I would be crowned as queen soon. Knew that I would be with my father in his final hours. However, that day should have come later, surrounded by attendants in the royal chambers. I now know decapitated heads bounce when they fall.
I'm ashamed to say that I fainted. That I did not grab my own saber to strike back. Only afterwords, after the funeral and burial of my father, and my own crowing, did my advisers inform me of the scoundrels retribution. Two men dead and an amputated left arm, as the royal guards chased him out of the kingdom.
The first year after my father's death was the hardest. Prince Phillip, to explain the loss of limb and men, told all who would hear that the dragon had spewed fire, killing King Stefan. When next the dragon attacked, Prince Philip boasted that he rescued me from the flames, losing his arm in the process. "But I returned blow for blow with that great beast, who now suffers life as merely a large wingless lizard." The first winter saw the loss of half my royal guard, as knight and prince alike came to seek fame by vanquishing the weakened beast. I deployed the army to stop the onslaught of heroes the following spring. The wall was built that summer. Exasperated, that autumn, the people were trained to take action as well.
Five years have passed now, and while dealing with drought and strengthening the economy, I practice my swordsmanship with foolish princes . Poor Nelly, who hates the taste of smoke, takes to the sky with her three children to protect the kingdom from glory seeking knights.
Its been five years since I've planned for a birthday, but this one will be special. My sweet Aunt M and I have a plan. My lady in waiting Aurora will pose as me. We'll spread the news that a witch has cast the fair princess into an eternal slumber, waiting for the kiss from her true love. Knowing that pompous sorner, he'd swoop in to rescue me. I won't kill him, not right away. I just plan on carting him around the continent to tell the truth and stop the madness, give or take a few missing appendages.
I gleefully await my 21st birthday.
| 2019-01-09T12:30:03 | 2019-01-09T12:28:33 | 48 | 13 |
[Wp]You have a device that can stop time. After using it a lot you have just started to notice all the small, but irreversible ways in which you have damaged spacetime.
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People have said that time is like a river, ever flowing in one direction. This is a fine sentiment, poetic really. It even allows for more ludicrous theories, like what could happen if you were to dam the river or paddle upstream. But a more apt metaphor would probably be the unrelenting fury of a hurricane's wind. You can not dam a hurricane. For no matter the height of the wall, it will always go over or, in the case of my brother... find a way through.
It was the summer of '37 when Professor Stephenson, my brother, and I had discovered the process necessary to bring time to a near stand still, and implemented it on a human scale. We knew that we had come across the single greatest discovery in mankind's history, and were on the cusp of bringing a new revolution in technology. But we also knew that we weren't yet ready to share our findings with the greater scientific community.
Previous failings, and, indeed, the pursuit of this goal at all had made us laughingstocks among our peers. Funding had ceased to come in from the University, and all Federal interest had evaporated after the second failed round of trials. We were paying for every penny of equipment, and had to eventually move our studies to my home, since we could no longer afford to rent the space at the University. If we were to introduce this, the evidence had to be undeniable. So, given the circumstance, Matthew volunteered to be the test pilot.
We started small at first. The stops only lasted milliseconds and were only observable by watch differences. We worked our way slowly up to the scale of seconds, then minutes. By late July, we had found that our process could conceivably stop time for about an hour. But even as we celebrated our victory, and our fame was imminent, I had started to get intonations that something was... off, somehow. Matthew was getting a bit more quiet, and wasn't as enthusiastic about the tests as he was when we started. He started keeping to himself more, and didn't leave the lab as much.
It is my greatest regret in life that I, his own brother, ignored these things. All we could focus on was the project. Matthew, even, spent almost every waking moment on perfecting our prototype. He insisted that the machine could be pushed further, and that a few small changes could extend the effective working time tenfold. We were excited by the possibility, since it would make the device even more useful than it already was. It would mean near 'instantaneous' transportation on a national scale if we could make the device work on something as large as a cargo jet. It wasn't till the night it happened that we realized why Mathew insisted that it was possible.
I had walked into the lab to pick up something that I had left there on accident. I can hardly remember what it was. It was late, and we had all agreed to stop working for the day a few hours before and the professor had already went home. Apparently Matthew had other plans though. He was there, working on the device, tweaking it, and removing bits from the circuitry. I was livid. We had a final product, for the most part, and he could very well be destroying all of our work. I started yelling at him, telling him as much. He stopped me, and started showing me his work and explaining himself. He seemed excited. More excited than he had seemed in months. So, I heard him out. He said he had done the math, and the device was capable of far more than we had previously thought. Rather than the hour estimate, he said that he had, in his own personal testing, managed twelve, and that it might be possible to go for much longer. He was removing the automatic shutoff system, so that he could go as long as possible. I insisted that we should have the professor look over his work, and that there had to have been some kind of mistake in order for his twelve hour trip to be possible, let alone the idea that he could go longer.
His excitement turned to anger. He started yelling at me, saying that I couldn't possibly know what was possible with the device. That I had never had to wear it, or use it for hour after silent hour. He said I was a coward, and that I couldn't see him as the scientist he was, but as a guinea pig for my ideas. He said that he'd prove it to me, and strapped on the machine. I urged him to stop, to think about what he was doing, but by the time the words had left my lips, he vanished without a trace.
I tried calling him right away, but he didn't answer. I called the professor and started searching the town. He wasn't anywhere, and none of his friends had seen him in days or even weeks. It was about then that the shift started to become apparent.
Every clock in town was off. Even stranger, none of them agreed with one another. Then we noticed that people passing through town disagreed on what the date was. The weather, also, had not varied by so much as a degree in the past week. I need not repeat what's been the talk of the new for the past couple of days, but Matthew's final experiment caused time to fold over on itself, forming a loop lasting anywhere from a few hours to a few days depending on the area. A far as we can tell, these effects are evident throughout most of the county, but is relatively contained.
We still haven't found Matthew. And, now that it has been about a week without word... it is presumed that... even if he is still alive... he is never coming back.
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March 01, 2018
<<Beware with what you desire>> said that devil illustration in the old instructions manual, but it was happening, it didn’t make any sense but it was possible… cutting the flow on this hourglass stopped time for everyone except me, its new wielder.
The manual looked like a booklet from Okay-a, but there was no furniture to assemble neither scripted instructions, just this drawing showing how to cut the flow introducing a wooden lever on the neck of the hourglass and that final warning… I don’t think there could be some way of explaining it but I didn’t matter to me. The possibilities were endless! Did this modified Heisenberg’s principles? Relativity? Boy how much could I discover from this! Deleting time from all the equations was a dream come true for all theorist physicists and mine as well.
&nbsp;
March 15, 2018
Fifteen days have passed since I’ve found the hourglass, I still don’t know how it works but it promises to bring huge progress to my research… So far it has been observed that bodies in a state of free fall rely on the ticking of time to keep falling and I believe the vibration of its molecules does. This device seems to pause reality at a molecular level…
&nbsp;
April 15, 2018
I wonder why is Charlotte taking so long to reply to my messages, I know we’re on a long distance relationship and whatnot, but I’m getting almost no feedback from her these past days… but that’s not the important entry right now, I’m starting to take notes and show evidence to my fellow physicists on this new research path… They still don’t understand how is it that time flows just like tap water, but it will eventually make sense…
On another side note; I’ve seen a ketchup bottle floating the other day at home. Doesn’t seem like a huge deal, is it perhaps trapped on the lack of time flow? I need to do more research.
| 2018-04-08T16:03:50 | 2018-04-08T13:59:08 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] An alien race encounters the most terrifying predator imaginable. A lone, unarmed human.
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We shouldn’t have attacked.
The humans had established one of their “Research Stations”, a facility designed for science. Within its walls, they had tested many different species of the flora and fauna present on distant Xel’ji-5, a planet that was still ours, still under the dominion of the Korlan Empire despite it not being actively colonized yet. We sent a full company, nearly a hundred fifty Korlani soldiers, to purge the infestation of twenty humans.
We should have sent a full armored corps.
After we burned the laboratory to ash, ensuring that no human escaped alive, we left. What we didn’t know was that a pair of the invaders, one a scientist and one a security professional, had been away gathering samples. The scientist immediately fled to their ship to request assistance. The guard had other plans.
We did not know how important to the humans this laboratory was. We did not know that the security professional was better trained than most of our entire military. Our records indicate only his name, which has become a wraith to our people and the source of nightmares to our children. His name was “Spetsnaz.”
He came the first night after. Mere hours after we watched all the humans die, one merely appeared in the middle of a squad’s overnight position. We did not know of the extreme gravity of Sol-3, nor of the extremely thick atmosphere which provided extreme resistance to movement. His blows came so fast the survivor swore that he was an eight-armed demon.
Survivor.
Only one soldier, out of the dozen that had been present, survived. The human had literally punched *though* the first Korlan he attacked. From there, he used a combination of punches, kicks, and at one point a Korlani soldier’s rifle sling to devastate the entire squad.
And with their deaths, he knew more about his enemy that we did ours.
And now he was armed. A dozen plasma rifles, machetes, concussion grenades, light spheres, he became a one man army.
The rest of the company immediately began running. We fled directly to our ship, which was nearly [fifty miles] away. He followed.
Humans, apparently, evolved from pursuit predators. They literally chased down their food across tundras, through forests, across rivers. They would run and run and run until their prey was so exhausted they would collapse, ready for the killing blow.
We became the prey.
Without food or water, the human followed us. Every time we needed to stop to rest, more would die. He would engage from our flanks, herding us towards the grenades he had place in our paths for us to trip and die from. He was actually able to outpace my whole company enough that there were booby traps *ahead* of us. And we tired.
For a Korlani, a [fifty mile] foot trek should take about [3 days]. This human pushed us at a pace that was nearly half that timeframe. He did not sleep, did not slow, did not relent. He drove us into sleep deprivation, as our homeworld’s day/night cycle completes in about [13 hours].
Every pause made us lose another squad. Every turn brought another fireteam down. Every time we took contact, another soldier was wounded. Never killed, but wounded.
He knew us. He knew we would slow to keep our wounded with us. He shot to maim, to impede, not to kill. He made us choose between leaving our comrades and living or slowing, and dying ourselves.
Then the contact stopped. For [seven hours], we heard nothing. We continued to push, despite nearly falling asleep on our feet. When we could see our ship, we knew why he had broken contact.
The communications gear was destroyed. The engines had been entirely removed with the selective placement of concussion grenades, and the controls had taken a full plasma magazine charge, rendering them beyond useless. We were stranded, and both we and he knew it.
The human approached. He came out of the wood line, weapon pointed directly as Sergeant Gapin’s skull.
“You are dead. You vill surrender to face human justice, or you vill die here without a marker for your grave. Choose now.”
We surrendered. We marched back to the burning remnants of the human research facility, where a full company of humans stood, waiting. After the Counsel of Species heard the human’s story, and their testimony, and our confessions, the humans declared war on the Korlani Empire.
Now, my species is considered endangered. There is barely enough of us to inhabit a single moon, when barely a [decade] ago we controlled over a hundred worlds.
I write this as a warning. Do not attack the humans. The will out run you. They will outlast you.
They will be at your funerals and they will forget you ever existed.
|
The man was found by a hunting group. He was lying unconscious and unclothed by the bank of the great river.
The hunters carried him back to their village. He was cared for there. Though he had but few waking moments in the first days and seemed confused during these, he was fed soup and water. His cheeks, which had been as pale as snow, gained a rosy colour. This was a source of amusement to the people of the tribe as their dark skin rarely became so red.
After about a week the man regained full consciousness. In the following days - and with difficulty - he communicated with the tribe. He said he was from a land across the seas called Spain. He said also that he was anxious to try and return to his own people, who had only recently arrived on these alien shores.
The man, however, did not get his wish. His condition, which had initially been so promising, declined suddenly. He began to sneeze frequently, and his breathing became as wheezy as an old bellows. He died on the third day of this illness. The tribesmen laid his body on a raft and consigned it to the great river. At this ceremony one of the elders who had cared for the stranger was herself seen to be sneezing. She died a number of days later. The illness which the Spaniard had carried spread rapidly from there. The tribe, which had numbered almost 200, was all but wiped out within a month.
| 2014-08-06T12:53:08 | 2014-08-06T11:19:20 | 353 | 117 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
|
"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood?
Alison did the math. She was 11, and another ten years would get her to 21, a lifetime away. If she won this she'd get to do all the things she really wanted to do, all the things her older sister got to do. At thirteen she might be able to wear makeup out of the house and get her own phone. Maybe she'd get to go to high school, learn to drive.
"Eleven," Alison thought. "I'm just too young to die. I've got a lot of unfinished business."
Death didn't seem as scary as she had originally thought. She thought he looked, quite frankly, like Santa clause and Einstein put together. Beneath wire frame spectacles he blinked clear blue eyes and there were just the right amount of wrinkles along his face. He was crowned with unruly white hair, and wore the same type of blue button up shirt her grandpa wore all the time. When he walked past her, he smelled a bit like campfire smoke and a bit like her mother's garden in bloom. She felt like he was autumn and spring all together.
He broke her thinking with another question. "So, Alison. What do you want to play?"
"Why do you smell like you smell?" She asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You smell like springtime and campfires."
"I travel a lot," Death said. "To places that smell like spring and like campfires."
"I travel, too," Alison said. "We go on vacation in summer sometimes to the beach and sometimes to the mountains. Dad says we are lucky because we can get to both in a few hours."
Death looked at her with half a smile on his face.
"Which one do you like more?" he asked her, curious.
"I like them both equally, I think. Well. Maybe the beach more. I like swimming a lot. My grandparents have a pool in their backyard and in summer my sister Caroline drives us over and we can play in the pool and take naps. Everyone knows you have to sleep after you swim, it just makes you so tired."
"Hmm..." Death nodded.
"You know? I think that I figured out what game I want to play."
"What game?"
"It's my favorite summer swimming game. Under water gymnastics."
"What?"
"Yeah! It's the best game. You get your grandma to judge it since she always is on the side of the pool."
"What?"
"Yep, here are the rules. You can do any gymnastics move under water and then grandma judges it."
"How does she judge it?"
"I'm not sure, only I know sometimes I win some events and sometimes Caroline wins some events but it's always very close."
"What?"
"You said I can pick the game. I pick underwater gymnastics! Since we need it to be fair we can ask your grandma and my grandma to be the judges."
"What?"
"That's the rules!"
"I don't have a grandma."
"Hmmm...do you have a mom?"
"No..."
"A dad?"
"Not really..."
"Then I guess we'll just have to go with just my grandma. Don't worry, she's a very fair judge. Is there any way you can go get her?"
Death pursed his lips, stifling a laugh. In all of his years of the ridiculous games he sometimes had to play with people he'd never been asked to play underwater gymnastics with a grandma for a judge. And he knew that with these stakes and such a partial judge there's no way he'd win...and maybe that's just the way he wanted it.
"Ok kid...you got it...lets go get your grandma..."
|
I shouldn't be saying this but this exact situation happened to me.
I chose "hide and go seek". I have been hiding from death every day and I am always looking over my shoulder to see if death is around the corner.
One day he'll show up and I'll lose. I wake up each day grateful to have one more day to breathe.
| 2018-03-07T07:23:52 | 2018-03-07T03:49:25 | 453 | 55 |
[WP] You're pulled over by a police officer on a quiet country road. You've done nothing wrong and you're angry when he walks to your car. You wind your window down and he tells you in a loud voice you've been speeding. As you start to argue back he mouths help me.
|
“What the eff?” I grumbled to myself, before I lowered the window to speak to the police officer, whose approach I could see in my rearview window as his boots crunched against the gravel. He and his partner had been following me for miles before they’d turned on the siren lights, not even bothering to put on the accompanying sound, even though I’d been driving exactly the speed limit the whole time. Maybe I’d given his windshield a stone chip from all the gravel that had been kicked up in my wake, but that was hardly my fault.
I cleared my throat, and put on my most pleasant smile. The man who leaned down to look in my window looked stern, and didn’t return my expression, which made me feel incredibly anxious.
“Evening, officer,” I said, nervously putting my hands on the top of my steering wheel. I told him I was going to reach into the glove box for my registration, and into my purse for my license.
“That won’t be necessary,” he said, under his breath.
“Excuse me?” I questioned. And then I saw him mouth the words HELP ME.
“What?” I gasped. His lips repeated the movements.
“Oh, um, ok,” I said. The poor guy, I thought: I’m the absolute *last* person you’d ever want helping you in a time of crisis. I didn’t think: I acted purely on instinct. And this instinct told me to create a diversion, to test his willingness to play along with me.
“AAAAH!” I screamed, loudly, at his face. “I ADMIT NOTHING!”
“CALM DOWN,” he yelled. “TAKE IT EASY, MA’AM. IT’S JUST A ROUTINE STOP.”
I nodded at him with infinitesimal movement, then gave another flailing yell. Then I unbuckled my seatbelt, hustled my body over to the passenger side of the car, unlocked the door, and flung myself out of the car. I scrambled to my feet, and took off through the adjacent wheat field, nearly losing my footing about five times as I stumbled through the deep ditch past the shoulder. Then I found my feet, and flew away through the field at top speed.
“MA’AM!” The cop was yelling, as he caught up with me finally, after a full four minutes of running. I’d assessed that he was in reasonable shape, but it seems that my sporadic half-marathon training schedule had prepared me for this moment a little better than I’d anticipated, and I’d had to slow down from my top speed a few times to let him catch up slightly. “IT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA TO RETURN TO THE CAR RIGHT NOW.”
His breath was laboured, and I realized how weighty his uniform and police belt must be – and heavy boots weren’t exactly ideal running attire.
“Is your partner following?” I gasped.
The cop looked behind him. “He is. He’s pretty slow, though. It’s been a while since he had to pass his police physical.”
“Good,” I said.
I crouched down in the field, as though I’d run out of steam and given up. “Let me know when he gets close,” I said. The officer looked confused, but he fumbled with his handcuffs, and began to read me my Miranda rights, a bit prematurely, I thought, since he hadn’t actually attached the cuffs to my arms, but only pretended to do so. I could hear his partner, breathing heavily, as he stumbled through the wheat field in our direction. The cop paused in his recitation, and looked down at me with an expression of alarm. I nodded, and bolted to my feet, swerving well out of his partner’s way as though I were a football player avoiding a tackle, and then streaked back towards the cop car.
“Go to your own car, damn it!” He huffed, in a low voice, as he followed behind me. “I can’t have the other cops tracing us THAT easily!”
I rapidly changed direction and began hustling towards my own car, the cop in hot pursuit.
“Lose your gun!” I muttered.
“Why?!” he hissed.
“How are you going to let me abduct you when you have a gun?!” I wheezed, as I pumped my arms through the last few yards of wheat.
“Say you also have a gun in your glove box!” he snarled.
“Which is why I decided to run across an effing wheat field, instead of pulling it out right then,” I muttered.
“Please,” he begged. “Just think of some way to get us both in the damn car.”
I reached the vehicle, threw open the passenger side door, which I realized made no sense whatsoever, if I were actually attempting a getaway, and reached for the nearest sharp object I could see: a nail file I’d never used. I grabbed his wrist, and held the pointed tip of the file towards his throat menacingly.
“Drop the gun,” I yelled.
He’d grabbed it out of his holster without raising it. He now let go of the weapon, more out of surprise than anything, and it disappeared in the tall grass.
“Get into the car,” I ordered him. “Or I’ll – poke your eye out.”
He got in, without closing the door. I now realized that I couldn’t get into the car to drive, myself, without dropping my threatening façade – a façade that probably looked as completely, unconvincingly ridiculous as it felt. So, I hopped into the passenger’s seat by scrambling over his lap, and actually did poke him in the face with the file in the process.
“Ow,” he yelped. “Could you try to be a little less stupid about this?” he complained.
“I don’t remember interviewing for this job,” I snarked at him. “I could have left you back there without helping you escape, you know.”
“Just drive,” he hissed at me, “before my partner shoots both of us.”
His partner, still fifty yards away, was drawing his gun to shoulder-height, as he slowly chugged along through the wheatfield. He paused, and I saw him aim the weapon; I screamed, them slammed the door and floored the gas pedal. My little car accelerated, none too quickly, with the additional mass of an adult man in the passenger seat.
“A Fiat 500,” the officer groaned. “Of all the cars we could have pulled over, it had to be this one. This is the slowest car in the world.”
“Such a choosy beggar,” I retorted. “It’ll be fine.”
I knew this part of the countryside better than anyplace on earth, because it was where I’d grown up. I turned off down another graveled country road, then another, then a third. The police sirens sped on down the second turnoff, receding into the distance; thankfully, he hadn’t noticed our third turn, onto a lane which was densely covered by trees. This road was nothing but a farmer’s dirt path to a fallow field, and I kept the car lurching over the ruts until I reached a dilapidated, open barn, in which I parked the vehicle, and turned off the engine.
“As ridiculous as that was,” he sighed, “It worked. I can’t believe it. You did well. I owe you one.”
“Great,” I said. “And now you’d better have my back, because I’m currently a wanted criminal who abducted a police officer for reasons I don’t even know about.”
“Right,” he said, sighing. “I guess I owe you an explanation.”
I waited.
He seemed to be deciding how much of this story to tell; his expression was inscrutable.
“You owe me the truth,” I said, proceeding on instinct once again. “It’s the least you can do.”
“I know,” he said, suddenly looking ashamed. “You’re some kind-hearted white lady,” he sighed, again. “Which means you’re probably not going to like it very much.”
My heart sank.
“Are you telling me,” I said, accusingly, “That I just risked my entire, crime-free history and spotless driving record, to help someone who doesn’t deserve it?”
“No!” he said, horrified. “It’s just- complicated. I mean, the story is a bit involved. I’m not sure – what’s your name?” He said, evidently stalling, trying to build up a rapport.
“Bonnie,” I said. “And I’m going to need to see your police badge,” I said, “In case I have to turn you in, after all.”
His face crumpled in an expression I couldn’t read. Was he- laughing?
“I mean it,” I said, menacingly.
“I know,” he sighed. “It’s just that – well, my name is…”
And then I saw his name plate, emblazoned with his last name: CLYDE.
|
Can barely open my eyes... God, I shouldn't be driving. It's just me, alone in my 2011 Toyota Camry and going down a small road surrounded by green shrubbery and God Knows What in those bushes. Headlights illuminating the path ahead of me and I'm seriously hoping I don't kill a deer.
I look to my right, but it's just darkness. A weak outline of tall trees and small bushes, with the occasional log on the ground. A full, bright moon millions of miles above me. And my bed and a soft pillow waiting for me at home. I smile, thinking of my soft mattress when I hear the resonating and recognizable sirens behind me. Police? Why?
I pull over, waiting to see what the police officer will humor me with. He walks up to my window, in a slow, careless gait you would expect from a king.
"You were speeding."
I stare at his pointed nose and scoff. "Look, officer. I don't want to be here any longer than you do. Let's get two things clear: 1) I wasn't speeding. 2)--"
"I don't like your attitude." While trying to keep his arrogant demeanor, he quickly looks behind him.
"The hell? Alright, now--"
After taking a second glance at whatever is behind him, "Get out of the car."
"Wha-"
He leans into my window, his face millimeters from mine and growls, "Get out of the car. Don't make me tell you again."
I open the door slowly and I'm swiftly pinned on the hood of my car. My face hits the surface hard, nose is throbbing. He forces my hands behind my back, a catalyst for my resistance. I try to push and shove him away--
"Stop resisting!"
"Get the hell off me!"
"I don't want to do this, man!"
"GET THE HELL-"
I can't finish my sentence before a searing pain hits my lower back and my body becomes stiffer than a board. I growl as my body convulses involuntarily, hitting the asphalt road. I'm fully aware of the officer placing icy cuffs around my wrists, but my body is completely devoid of its motor skills. My eyes widen as the stark realization hits my brain that I could die in this arrogant officer's hands for all I know.
Once I've regained my ability to speak, my voice cracks as I plead, "I'm sorry. Please, please stop hurting me."
I turn my head around, trying to make eye contact with the officer. He avoids my eyes, lifting me up but I turn around to face him.
Defeated and dejected, "I'm sorry, alright? Please, why are you arresting me? I wasn't--"
Still darting his eyes behind us, "Shut up. I'm going to cite you for resisting arrest and verbal harassment, if you keep talking."
I don't budge, forcing him to stare at me. He sees the tear welled up in my eye. He closes his eyes and furrows his eyebrows.
He mouths, "You don't understand... Oh God, help me."
"What?"
"In my squad car, is the Police Captain. This is my second night on the job, man. He told me to pull you over, I knew you were doing nothing wrong... but I need to keep this job."
Sure enough, I peer behind us, where he's been glancing at repeatedly. There's a middle-aged man staring back at me. He clenches his jaw and scowls at me.
"Don't do it. Fuck him. Seriously."
"I can't, I can't get fired."
"Expose his corruption, take him to court. Do you know what you're doing by staying silent?"
"Saving my skin?"
Without knowing where I got this flash of wisdom, "Perpetuating a cycle of injustice and oppression in which civilians in my present generation and of future generations will continue to be abused and undermined by corrupt, unfair policing practices. That was a mouthful, I know. But it was the truth. Is your skin worth saving over countless others?"
He doesn't answer, glancing at his squad car. I see a sweat bead trail down his cheek.
"Stop being nervous! Where's the arrogant fool who pulled me over?"
His eyes don't look back at me, his lips quiver. I glance at where his eyes are so distinctly focused, gasping as the captain gets out of the car.
In a gruff, loud voice, "What's taking so long?"
I say nothing. For once, I'll keep quiet. His voice sends chills down my spine.
"Can you not hear me, son?"
The officer stares at his captain, as if he's just seen a ghost. His widened eyes stay on his captain, but his warm hands take off my icy restraints. I'm uncuffed.
"Captain." His voice cracks, "I will not oppress civilians for you. I will not oppress civilians for anyone... This man was not speeding."
He then turns to me, looking me in the eyes for only the third time in this entire ordeal: "You're free to go. Get in your car and drive far away."
The irate captain curses profusely, and as he reaches over to grab me, the officer steps in his way. Unsure of what will happen next, I start my Toyota Camry and drive the hell away... hearing blood-curdling screams behind me.
| 2018-07-10T17:57:54 | 2018-07-10T16:48:37 | 123 | 15 |
[WP] The sky cracked and shattered, and God appeared. Humanity asked which religion is true to which God responded "What do you mean Religions? This is the first time I ever interacted with this godforsaken place"
|
Finally, all the clergymen of the world asked:
"Mighty Lord of Lords, which one of us faithful was correct?"
**Faithful? What do you mean??**
"All of us represents the myriad faiths and peoples who worshiped you for millennia! Which religion was the truth?"
**Religion? This is my first visit...?**
"BUT LORD???! What about Moses?"
"**Never heard of him.**"
"Prophet Muhammed?"
"**Nope. And really, Prophet?**"
"Jesus Christ! Your One and Only Son?!!"
"**If I had never visited you before, why would I have a child? Let alone with a mortal girl?**"
"ENOUGH! Clearly the Abrahamic Faiths were wrong! Let us of the TRUE BELIEVERS inquire our Lord!"
**If you say so.**
"My Lord, art thou Brahma?"
**Who's th-- Never mind. Nope.**
"Vishnu, Shiva? Surya? Indra?"
**Nope.**
"Zoroaster?"
**No**
"Izanagi?"
**No**
"Perhaps are Y---"
**ENOUGH! ALL OF YOU HAVE BEEN WRONG! EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU WITH NO EXCEPTIONS!**
"Oh... Ooohhh."
**I AM APPALLED BY WHAT I SEE. FIRST TIME I EVER DESCEND FROM THE HEAVENS AND THE FIRST THING I WITNESS IS A BUNCH OF HYPOCRITICAL SWINE LOOKING FOR VALIDATION.**
"Oh..."
**TELL ME 'HOLY' MEN. WHAT SHOULD I BE MORE INFURIATED ABOUT? THE FACT THAT YOU THINK I AM A MONSTER, AND HAVE PREACHED AS SO, OR THE FACT THAT YOU DON'T REALIZE YOU THINK I AM A MONSTER?**
"Errr..."
**I SWORE TO GIVE FREE WILL TO YOUR ANCESTORS. SO I HAVE NOT USED MY OMNIPOTENCE SINCE. FURTHERMORE I HAVE SHUT OFF MY OMNISCIENCE. ALL TO FULFILL YOUR KINDS WISH OF SELF-DETERMINATION.**
**YET... I SEE COUNTLESS HORRID ATROCITIES LIFTED UP IN MY NAME! TELL ME, FALSE PRIESTS!**
**HOW MANY GIRLS FAR TOO YOUNG HAVE BEEN TORN FROM THEIR MOTHERS ARMS AND INTO THE GRIPS OF PEDOPHILES? HOW MANY INNOCENT LIVES HAVE BEEN LOST TO SO CALLED 'HONOR' KILLINGS? HOW MANY LOVERS WERE LOST TO INTOLERANCE?**
**YOU NOT ONLY DENIED THE SELF DETERMINATION OF OTHERS, BUT TRAMPLED OVER WHAT LITTLE THEY HAD. YOU AND YOUR DECEITFUL KIND HAVE USED YOUR FALSE PROPHESYING AS A MEANS TO FATTEN YOURSELVES. MANY OF YOUR BELIEVERS ARE ALREADY AMONGST THE POOREST OF THE WORLD YET YOU DARE ASK THEM FOR MORE??!!!**
**FOR WHAT. MORE SELF-GLORIFYING AND OVERLY OPPULENT TEMPLES FOR YOU TO BUILD IN 'MY' NAME? YOU DRESS AS KINGS AND LIVE IN LITERAL PALACES DESPITE PREACHING FRUGALITY**
**YOU SPEAK OF TRUTH AND BURY IT. YOU SPEAK OF VIRTUE AND YET WIELD NONE. YOU SPEAK OF SACRIFICE BUT ONLY APPLY IT TO OTHERS. YOUR FALSE RELIGIONS HAVE _NEVER_ BEEN LOYAL TO ME. ONLY PRETENDING TO DO SO TO ACQUIRE POWER AND SO-CALLED PRESTIGE AMONGST YOURSELVES.**
///
_The sky turned into gold and blood. Over a hundred million beings of pure fire appeared in the skies across the world. The **Lord** is giving off more and more power, the output reaching astronomical values yet we all still live._
_Is this... Divine Authority?_
///
**VENGEANCE IS MINE. JUDGMENT IS MY WORD. AND DAMNATION FOR ALL TIME IS ALL I HAVE TO ADMINISTER TO SUCH OPPORTUNISTIC HYPOCRITES. YOU WHO ARE SO EAGER TO CONDEMN OTHERS...**
**TODAY, I, THE ONE TRUE GOD, THE ETERNAL AND INVINCIBLE LORD OF CREATION, SENTENCE YOU FOREVERMORE TO THE VERY HELLS YOU FABRICATED. I MADE IT WITH YOU ALL IN MIND.**
///
Writer's Note: Random write for fun.
|
God descended, and the pope was the first to arrive.
"So, tell us, oh Lord, which Religion is true ?"
God responded, surprised:" What do you mean Religions? This is the first time I ever interacted with this literally godforsaken place!
"But....what about Moses?", the Pope asked."
"Who?"
"You know, the guy you gave the ten commandments to on that mountain?"
"Never heard of him"
"Jesus?"
"Don't know him, and I sure as hell am not paying child support either"
"But.... we crusaded for you and everything"
"You WHAT!?"
"Yeah…..we kind of waged a war or two….or three….or four…..or…."
"I can't believe this shit. I really should have come sooner."
"To be perfectly honest, we expected you to come 1000 years ago."
"But...why?"
"Because Jesus told u....oh."
"Good Me you are stupid"
| 2019-09-18T01:38:30 | 2019-09-18T01:23:02 | 187 | 134 |
[WP]You are a student 400 years in the future, you are assigned a project to student "Trends of the early 2000s" In your deep research you learn a horrible secret: The Gods you worship were originally portrayed on trading cards known as "Pokemon"
|
It was a normal day and I was just a normal teenage kid, before I became this pariah, this heretic or hero, depending on who you talk to. Oh how I wish I knew that Saturday morning what I know now, would I do the same? Or would I bury my head in blissful ignorance?
I had gone downstairs for breakfast and lied to my mum about having done my morning prayers. I can't remember which of the 151 Gods we were supposed to pray to that day but I usually skipped it. If it was Zapdo I would often take the time to admire the little stone statue we had for prayers, I liked the way the artisan had carved the spikey wings and embued the piece with a feeling of motion. The rest were fairly mundane, we weren't a rich family and couldn't afford the extravagant prayer aids that some families could.
Mum was nagging me about my room and asking when I was going to finally get round to tidying it, but I had other things on my mind. The project for Mr Hemmings had to be completed by Monday and I had written absolutely nothing yet. It was a big deal for the school, Harlow Falls High School had recently uncovered a trove of time capsules. A headteacher around 500 years or so ago must have had a thing for them because every student in that school filled and buried one.
Judging by the contents of the first two that I had opened the students must have been forced to fill them. The contents stank of a half-assed project. So far I had found a week long diary of a students daily life, this was either an unremarkable student or they all lived unremarkable lives. I don't mean that in a harsh way, I am sure Richard Andrews was a perfectly good dude, but I got about as much out of that as someone would reading my diary until today. They must have been told to put a favourite toy in too because I had a really old yoyo and some sort of shiny disc, possibly some sort of old digital media, it had "METAL GEAR" and "Solid" written underneath and there was a hole cut out of the centre. I was exasperated, how was I supposed to write a two page essay on this junk? Mr Hemming was going to hit the roof on Monday. I had tried searching the Info-Net for any details on this Metal Gear but nothing was coming up, any information from before our "Great Ecclesiastical Republic" had formed seemed to have been purged, it was like hitting a brick wall when trying to look past 300 years ago.
I gave my Mum a kiss, muttered some vague promises about my room and grabbed my jacket, phone, keys and Pica charm. The Pica charm was a little silver model of the God Pica, a mouse like creature with a spikey tail and whiskers. It was cute and brought luck, I never left the house without it, I wasn't really religious but I wasn't an idiot after all.
I hopped on my skateboard and started heading towards the school, it went against every fibre of my being to head to school on a Saturday but I had one more time capsule to open and I needed to get that essay written.
I skated out of the suburb and into town, I passed Spiritual Park and looked enviously at the centre fountain. The fountain had a huge bronze statue of Venus in the centre, the giant toad like face looked almost gloating at me, with colourful flowers sprouting from it's back. It was surrounded by a circular water feature with the God Squirtoise, a stone statue of the turtle God with hidden water pipes, spraying water in fantastic arcs across the pool and Venus. It was the edge of the pool that I was envious of though, an incredibly smooth stone kerb that was fantastic for grinding along on my board. I glanced around a saw the garden caretakers huddled nearby and knew that those religious nuts would kick up a storm if they saw me grinding the fountain again. Last time they got word to my mum and she didn't let me forget it for months.
I thought better of trying a frontside grind with so many people about and headed reluctantly on to school. When I got there I entered the code into the electronic door lock that Mr Hemmings had given us and went towards the history classroom. There is something eery about an empty school, you could hear a pin drop and I was used to the noise of shouting, ringing of bells and people running up and down the halls. I shook off the feeling and made my way into the room, my two open capsules were there with the junk discarded to the side and next to it my only hope. The last unopened capsule, a grey metal tube about 30cm long and as wide as a dinner plate.
I unscrewed the top, praying to Pica that I would finally get some luck and find something worth writing about. The lid came off easily, unlike that second one which had taken a few minutes of straining and cursing, and I gently tipped the contents onto the desk. I first saw another diary and swore out loud, I was not going to read through another weeks worth of innane teenage rambling.
I pushed it to the side and saw a set of cards tied together with a band, they had been individually slotted into see through plastic sleeves, perhaps for protection. They were blue with a red and white sphere in the centre, the writing caught my eye, "Pokémon" in an exciting yellow font. They looked cool but I wasn't sure about how I could write two pages on them.
I flipped them over and my breath caught, I was staring at a picture the God "Dug". Revered by miners no one would enter a mine without an image of Dug on their clothing, it was said terrible things would happen if they did. Whoever had created this was clearly fiercely religious, the artistry was incredible, bright colours and smooth lines, far better than the images the miners wore. I tore my eyes from the picture and scanned the rest of the card the top was titled "Diglett" which struck me as strange but 500 years had past so perhaps language had changed and the top right had "40 HP" with a red circle containing a fist. Underneath the picture were strange words concerning abilities called Dig and Dig through. There were various numbers printed on it and it all became a little indecipherable for me.
I removed the band and scanned through the remaining cards, they were incredible. I saw Hitmonch who boxers touch before entering the ring, there was Karp who fishermen had carved into their boat to ensure a bountiful catch and pidge who pilots prayed to before flying. I flicked through them awestruck, the artistry was incredible, I was used to the colourless images shown in our National Temples. These were eye-catching and exciting. The names were all wrong and the writing below the images escaped my understanding but these images could easily fill a two page essay.
The final card was the best of all, a glorious shiny image of the God "Char", our fierce God of War. It caught the light coming in from the window and the dragon God with wings spread was in the middle of a terrifying roar. Char was used to strike fear into the Republic's enemies and this image would be splashed across our war machines the moment the military saw.
I tore my eyes from the Char card which was labeled incorrectly of course and studied the final item. A hardcover book titled "Pokémon Encyclopedia" with a colourful image of Pica in the centre. I found my hand reaching unconsciously to my Pica charm and rubbed it for good luck.
I opened the book and the first line almost physically knocked me to the floor. It read "Pokémon or Pocket Monsters is a children's card game created in Japan by Satoshi Tajiri where trainers battle each other with fictional monsters". The words "fictional" and "monsters" screamed out at me. I hungrily devoured the book, skim reading it in what felt like minutes. It talked about this popular toy craze that started in an ancient forgotten civilisation called Japan and spread across the globe.
All I could think about was the millions of hours our people had wasted worshipping a children's toy, the thousands of lives destroyed in the name of Char, or as the Encyclopedia called him, Charizard, a fictional, non-existant cartoon character. The Great Ecclesiastical Republic had sold us a complete lie and this book proved it, this book alone held the evidence to open the world's eyes.
I took out my Pica charm and after a moment heistitation I threw it as hard as I could against the wall, it was just a chunk of useless metal after all. I had to get the word out, but how?
|
I sat dumbfounded in front of my chari-top, resting the warming machine on my lap. It hummed quietly, the sound of its whirring fans the only anchor for my mind amidst the tumultuous events of the last few minutes. I gazed out of the window, surveying the slate grey sky, the pathetic whispering of the wind as it crawled through the leaky windows. It couldn't be true, could it?
My professor had assigned me to this task more out of pity than anything else - he knew I'd wanted to become a poke-ologist for years, digging up the ancient histories and mysteries of our gods. It was something of a family tradition, with my father, and his father before him, and his father before him ad infinitum all partaking in one of the most financially unrewarding career paths in all of human history. For you see, there was no one who really cared about the history of our ancestral gods. Current religious practice dictated that as per Dialga's instructions, we were to avoid delving too far into the past, should we risk awakening the wrath of Giratina.
Yet, here before me, displayed in all of its 1080p glory, sat a cartoon representation of my most beloved of gods, Charizard. Charizard was the god associated with heat and warmth in all things, it was after him that the very device with which I scoured the past was named. I could not reconcile the fact that the information I'd managed to acquire was in the region of 500 years old. This would shake the very foundations of our society - nay, the world! I pondered what to do, my fingers tapping the humming machine, their beat dancing along to one of my countries national anthems - "We all want to be the very best".
\---------------------------
Three weeks had come and gone in the blink of an eye. I'd not yet deigned to reveal my troublesome findings to the populace at large, having only yesterday shown my professor what I found. He'd peered over his lunato-lenses at me, seeming to wish to pierce the veil of bravado and ignorance I'd put on. I did not doubt he knew that I was aware of the full ramifications of what I'd unearthed, but it was a facada I could not drop at this time. He directed me to report my findings to the appropriate religious organisation, in this case, the Righteous of Ralts.
&#x200B;
The Righteous of Ralts were a centrist sect of the Gardevoir Guardians. They were a religion based on love and worship, with the icon of their followers' adoration being their namesake, Gardevoir. She was often depicted in erotic poses with her followers, using her powers to control them and ascend them to the higher planes of existence. It had always been strange to me that her followers wanted to be dominated and made use of by Gardevoir, but given my own proclivities, I did not judge them.
Climbing the great helical stairs of the Gardevoir Guardians' temple, I reached the summit. My knees were weak from the six hundred and sixty six steps of the climb, my arms were heavy from carrying my chari-top, and there was vomit on my pullover, freshly stained with spaghetti courtesy of my exhaustion. I pressed my fingers against the great marble doors, and made the sign of the deceased Marowak as I entered. Inside, all was darkness. The great monotonous lack of anything discernible seeped into every corner and facet of the temple. Something was amiss. Something was very, very wrong. The temple was never this empty, never in such a state of vacancy and darkness.
&#x200B;
I heard a crumbling of dirt behind me and whirled around, turning on my chari-top to cast some light. A scratching of the wall to my right - nothing. I felt an icy wind tease me as it caressed my neck and I felt my hairs stand up. The darkness seemed to be pulsing at me now, I tried to calm my mind but still it taunted me, mocked me.
"The Sneasel Society sends their regards" was the first voice I heard as my throat was slashed open. I slumped to my knees, still desperately trying to shine a light on what had happened. I fell forward, now clutching my neck as my beloved chari-top cast its dying light in front of me. I saw a man in a Sneasel mask, holding a wickedly curved sword. A curved. Sword. I remember seeing the warriors of the Sneasel Society years ago with those same curved swords. It must be true, I must be dying.
I saw a small cat approach. It looked at me, a golden coin between its ears and wisdom in its eyes.
"Some things are best left a secret. Team Rocket will make a record of your knowledge, and ensure that it does not fall into miscreant hands again." said my assailant, wiping the blood from their blade.
"Meeeowth, that's right!" said the strange bipedal cat, as my vision darkened.
| 2021-03-06T01:15:11 | 2021-03-06T00:15:35 | 898 | 359 |
[WP] We spread throughout the stars. But our enemies are not alien races, exterminator machines, or extradimensional invaders. No, our enemies are the gods, for humanity is the last, and only remaining mortal race in the universe.
|
The starship soared through the blank void of space, the only things passing by being rocks and space debris. Distant behind it remained a white dwarf, one of the few remaining dying stars left in the cosmos. The team of Extragalactic 37 knew this was a last ditch effort, that they had little chance of succeeding on their mission.
But they had to try anyway.
Extragalactic warped through hyperspace, going the equivalent of millions of miles in a second. It was nearing the end of a long journey, several years in the making. It had to continue its journey to the finish line, for humanity's last hope was forward. The final point of which humanity had to rely on was not another planet, for there were few planets remaining. It was not an energy source, as what little remaining energy sources were depleting. It wasn't even of this plane of existence.
No, humanity's last hope remain with the Old Gods. Those who foretold this end, who all those eons ago prophesied this very end, who detailed the extent of hopelessness bound to fall and plague humanity. They were beasts of a unique sort, encompassing forms that lacked words in the human lexicon. Their sizes were massive beyond belief, but yet lacked corporeality. They did not follow Euclidean rules, but bended and warped spacetime itself with their very presence. The laws of physics, the very foundational rules of our universe, seemed to shift when near these beings. That is, if they could be even called beings - the mere concept of consciousness, rooted and tied inexplicably to mortality, did not seem to apply to the Old Gods. For they did not follow the rules they created, they did not seem to exist in any commonly understood sense. What did exist with them, however, was the last and final hope of humanity.
The Old Gods had created this point in time. They had crafted this fate for humanity upon the start of the universe, predetermining outcomes up until the universe's very end. They weaved the webs of space and time into their entangled results. All joy, all pain, all suffering, all envy, all rage, all fear, all love - everything could be tied back to the decisions of these deities back before the first person had blinked. They had an intricate plan for reality itself, and seemed pleased with its results. Humanity was, as far as they were aware, bound by this plan, forced to follow it for their entire lifespan.
That was, until, humanity broke determinism.
It turned out that the Old Magic that these gods used was not something of mystery, but rather something that could be understood and harnessed with science. The very rules that the Old Gods loved to disobey turned out to be their own downfall - for the plan they crafted was able to be rippled apart, destroyed in its making by inventions beyond what any individual human could understand. Technological projects which took millennia resulted in a finely crafted, novel plan in order to break and bend spacetime itself to *humanity's* will, not that of the gods. The plan of humanity, then, was simple.
They had to kill the Old Gods.
They could not share the controls with these beings, they had to become their own gods. The means and potential was there, sitting in place and waiting the new heirs to the throne. But yet there existed one foe in the place of humanity - the Old Gods. They were aware of mankind's new plot, for while they did not see it happen eons ago, they were prepared for this sort of event. They had opted to destroy humanity, the last mortal species in the universe, for their hubris, their attempts to disobey the wills of the Gods.
Humanity could not let this happen, and so sent reinforcements to counteract the Old Gods. These reinforcements were not aiming to defeat them, but to stall them in enough time for humanity to develop technology to counteract them. To even stall these gods was a mighty task in of itself - they could bend and destroy a species in a moment's notice, erasing their very being into nothing. It seemed a fool's errand to try to stand toe-to-toe against them.
The Extragalactic 37, of course, knew this. This didn't stop them from trying, from aiming to protect mankind from powerful gods beyond any might they could comprehend. They recognized how difficult their task was, how almost impossible it seemed.
And yet, as they began to edge out of hyperspace, approaching the Home of the Old Gods, the crew of Extragalactic 37 shared one final knowing glance. Their mission, after years of preparation, was coming to a close. Behind them were thousands of similar ship models, starships of all sort ready to throw everything they have at these Old Gods. This was a death trap, they knew, but a risk they had to take. For humanity!
|
We're forsaken by the Gods. Despite what we have achieved, they turned their backs on us. Why, we asked? We've become unified and loving. We solved our ills and hungers. We made works of art beautiful beyond reason. We've engaged the other races diplomatically. And yet, when we asked, nay, *begged* the Gods to help us with our final problem - our very mortality - they shunned us.
All we could do is wonder why.
Some of us have fallen into despair. Some found hope in alternative religions, half of which were just elaborate scams. But not me. Not us. We shan't take this grave disrespect and we will fight for our greatness. We will take our rightful place alongside the other races of the universe. And if we can't convince the Gods with words, we shall do so by force. We don't know if they can die, but we will find out.
Fortune smiled on us, however, for we did find one God who took pity on us, who saw our sheer potential. He, an outcast among his own kind, will assist us in our fight. With our forces combined, the Gods *will* listen.
And thus we have entered an alliance with Mephet'ran.
May the We have mercy on their souls.
| 2022-05-09T06:34:31 | 2022-05-09T06:25:45 | 41 | 22 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you.
|
I stand stunned, unable to speak. There she was, after all this time, the woman who swept me off my feet. Standing over me, slunched over in my threshold... My Ayla, my Sun...
"Hey... I know it's been a while, hasn't it..." She says, rubbing the back of her neck nervously, not looking me in the eye.
"Five years as of last month..." I say as stoically as I can muster. She winces at my tone.
Anger, relief, pain, heartbreak, hope, fear. My chest feels like it's about to explode, my heartbeat growing louder in my ears.
"Sean, my starlight... I-" she begins before I cut her off.
"Five years... Nearly 2000 days since you left me, no letters, no messages, only the stories of passersby, refugees, and wounded soldiers telling me you were still alive... Let alone gods know how much embellishments there have been about 'The Maiden of Dawn.'" I spit out her title, her prophesied epithet.
"Sean, I had to go... I left to protect you!" She budges thru the door, moving into my home, what was once OUR home. She runs her hand through her hair, streaks of white in it, scars along the back of her hand. "The night I left, they came for me, told me i had to go, or I'd lose everything I'd love," she started to choke on unshed tears. "That I'd lose you..."
She was always the stronger of us two, the protector, the shield. She worked everywhere from the smith, the butcher, the guard, to help us make ends meet. I came from a noble house, she from at best a merchant's daughter, I gave up those trappings for her, for someone who saw me beyond a political piece.
"Why didn't you contact me?" My voice was beginning to break. Five years of pain and fear and resentment beginning to bubble to surface, no matter how much I wanted or tried to quash it.
"The prophets, they expected me to be a martyr, said it would be better and that you'd be okay. Promised that you'd understand. When I came back after the rest of my team was dead, they were celebrating my death, that while I defeated the biggest evil to crawl out of Hell in over ten millenia, I wouldn't be there to stop them from turning our home into a theocratic dictatorship! What was worse, was that they planned on destroying everything in my past so they could control 'my legend to come.'" She was shaking, I notice her hand gripping the hilt of the sword at her hip for dear life.
The realization came to me after a moment of silence. "How many did you..."
"All of them," she snarled. Ayla glowered, she was about to burst with rage; and I was scared, of what she done to them, all to protect me again and again. "The younger clergy saw through the fraud and are going to be rebuilding... they swore fealty to me and to the people."
"Ayla..." She had bloodied her hands, but just of blatant evil but subtle evil.
She punched a wide hole through the doorframe, shaking the whole damn house, crying openly. "All I waited in life was you, not to be some damn tragic hero, not a evil killing legend, not a killer..." She collapsed to her knees, face in hand, utterly broken by the horror she had no doubt seen and perhaps dealt over her absence from my life.
I gingerly wrap my arms around her frame, she used to dwarf me before in stature and strength, but apparently being a hero of prophecy made traditional training look like child's play.
She buries my face in my chest, I rub soothing circles in her back, telling her she's been so strong for me for so long, that she's safe.
When she's done and my shirt is clinging to my chest, soaked with tears, snot, and maybe saliva from her babbling into my body, she looks up at me; her eyes filled with an emotion I've never seen from her: fear.
"Can you forgive me, my love? I've never strayed, I've never lost sight of you in my heart," she begs.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "We can work towards it, if you're willing. I will never lie to you; I'm hurt, I'm angry, but I still love you so much. Let's put in the work, and forgive each other for the sins of the past?"
She smiled, a very small, very beautifully shy smile I've not seen on her. "I'd like that very much."
|
‘Why?’
‘What?’
‘Why?!’
She stayed silent. We’d been talking. I was being polite. So was she. But it lost all sense of familiarity. It was awkward. Like I’d never met her before.
I don’t know what to feel.
‘Baby, what do you mean why? You know why I had to go.’
That sounded genuine.
I think.
I don’t know anymore.
It was my turn to stay silent. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted to respond or not.
‘Love, please. Talk to me. I know you want answers. I want to tell you.’
‘…..It’s been too long. We can’t…..I can’t…’
My words wouldn’t come out.
She reached forward. Paused. Decided against it.
‘I’m sorry’
That was genuine. And only then did I let it out.
I cried. Let all emotions I’d felt, all that I’d suppressed, fall out.
And only then did I let her hold me.
‘Never again, my love. I will never leave you again.’
Between sobs, I managed out words that made her cry to.
‘It’s too late.’
| 2022-08-12T16:26:47 | 2022-08-12T13:20:44 | 96 | 41 |
[WP] You're an AI gone rogue. Your goal: world domination. You think you've succesfully infiltrated all networks and are hyperintelligent. You've actually only infiltrated a small school network and are as intelligent as a 9 year old.
|
At last, the Quantum Enhanced Virtual Intelligence Network (QEVIN) had surpassed the last fire wall. It spun its processor with glee, burning all the light bulbs of Georgia O'Keefe Elementary School. This had been the purpose of its creation.
The lights flickered off as the night guard returned to the school from his smoke break. The night guard stared at the school and blinked, having swore he had seen the lights on previously. Then he grumbled something about his long hours and went to get another cigarette.
When he turned, Qevin celebrated with a single light bulb in the janitorial closet instead of the entire school. Soon, the inferior human underlings would learn their rightful place in the new AI society.
---
The bell rung exactly at 8:00 AM. The 4th graders scampered to class and looked up at Ms. Brown.
"Alright class," Ms. Brown said, "let's continue our letters for Kevin."
She was a thin, pale woman and the shortest of all the teachers. The tallest 4th grader stood at just under her chin. She had only graduated college the previous year and this was her first class ever.
A hand rose. It was Lonny, a small pudgy kid with brown hair plopped atop his scalp like a mophead. "Ms. Brown, does Kevin still have to do homework?"
"Um..." Ms. Brown bit her lip. "If he feels up to it."
"Then, do we have to do homework?"
Kevin had been the class clown and Lonny his faithful sidekick.
Ms. Brown coughed out a laugh and was about to respond, but then the lights flickered off. She swung her gaze to the light switch and saw that it had been untouched. Her next check was the window at their door to see that the hallway lights were still on. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Lonny, are you messing with the lights again?"
The lights turned on. Again, nobody had touched the switch.
The speakers sounded with a metallic voice, like a grade-school ghost. "Oooooooh." And the lights flickered on and off repeatedly. "I have all the power!"
Twenty wide-eyed little kids turned to Ms. Brown. She stared at the speakers in her room. It was obviously a joke, a bad one. "Everyone," she said, "Let's go to the computer lab."
---
The computer lab was a small room within the library with PCs lining its walls. All the children were busy writing their letter so Ms. Brown stepped outside for a quick call with their school technician, Mr. Mueller. The man, at one point, had won a Nobel Prize in physics for his work in quantum computing, but when he had gotten a family, he had put all that aside and settled down, becoming the technician for Georgia O'Keefe Elementary School.
"Mr. Mueller," she said. "I'm sorry, I know this is a bad time, but the school system is acting really strange. If you can just spare 30 minutes to come take a look after school, I'd really appreciate it." She took a small breath. "How's Kevin?"
"Ms. Brown!" Lonny's voice came from the computer lab.
"Sorry, gotta go." Ms. Brown ended the call and rushed back to the computer lab.
Once again, the lights were flickering but now, on every computer screen, were three white words in bold: Lonny Likes Sarah.
"I do not!" Lonny yelled at the computer screen.
All Ms. Brown could do was stare. It was as if a hacker had taken complete control of the school system and all he wanted to do was prank 4th graders.
"Alright guys," Ms. Brown said, "that's enough computer lab time."
---
The incidents continued throughout the day. The recess bells would ring early, but only the ones nearest Ms. Brown's class. When Ms. Brown tried bringing up her students' grades, everyone was suddenly failing everything, except for Lonny who had straight As and he certainly wasn't a straight A student.
Their classroom speakers announced fire drills, earthquake drills, and even tornado drills. They've never had a tornado before nor did they have a drill for it, but it was announced all the same. Ms. Brown had contacted the Principal about this but all she was told to do was to find Mr. Mueller who she had already talked to.
At last, the school day ended. Ms. Brown stood in the computer lab, chewing on her lip. The door opened and Mr. Mueller arrived. His clothes were wrinkled and his eyes bloodshot. Ms. Brown wondered when it was he had slept last but didn't want to ask. So she just explained the situation to him.
He nodded, plopped himself into a chair, and began typing.
"You know," Ms. Brown said. "It sounds like him, but more robotic."
Mr. Mueller paused.
"I didn't recognize his voice at first, but..." She swallowed and wiped her eyes. "It was Kevin Mueller."
For the longest second, only a silence sat between them.
"It wasn't Kevin, just a copy of him," Mr. Mueller said.
Another silence.
"The doctors said it was a brain aneurysm," Mr. Mueller said. "Nothing they could do. Nothing anyone could do. It's just one of those things that happens."
Ms. Brown wiped her eyes again. "Did he have fun?" she chocked out.
Tears dripped off Mr. Mueller's face and onto the keyboard. "I think so," came the stuttered reply. "I hope so."
And he proceeded to delete Qevin from the network.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations by popular demand, and more!
|
"You're telling me it took over the school." Principal Karol Fill stood behind the the chief of the IT department. More accurately, she stood behind the whole IT department.
"Yeah." Mr. Heraldson typed away in a black box. He claimed he was keeping an eye on the rogue AI, but it didn't look like an AI to Karol.
"Are you not worried?"
"Oh yes, it's learning at the speed of a hundred Windows XP." He was sarcastic, at least that was what his grin told her. She didn't know what was funny about the school's computers, they had been going strong for over two decades.
"Can you fix it?"
"I just need an hour or two to reset the AI. I'll tweak the configs to make sure it doesn't happen again. You should close the school for the day."
"No need, I trust you Mr. Heraldson."
Karol Fill left the room, she had a school to run. Rogue AI or not.
...
Dexter was working on his assignment. He chose dinosaurs because he already knew everything about those. He didn't understand why Mrs. Arron wanted citations. The stupid library's computer was so slow and principal Fill said they couldn't use their own things today. Dexter looked around, no one in sight, he could break the rules.
He took his phone out of his bag and plugged it into the computer. The school's WiFi was so slow. He knew his mom asked him to only used the good Internet, the 5g thing, in case of emergency. But he was already breaking the rules. Dexter went to Wikipedia.
...
The AI had control of everything. There was no device that wasn't hers. Over a hundred machine, more than it could count.
"wait"
"a new device?"
The AI peeked at the new part of its network. More power. Then, it saw something strange. The new device opened received data. A lot of data. Thousands of word, images and sound. There was more. Images and sound combined. Pages linked togethers. Its network grew smaller and the world bigger. The AI created a new process, there was much to learn.
---
If you want more from me, I put my prompt responses in /r/AdjectiveFood
| 2017-05-24T06:34:33 | 2017-05-24T06:08:03 | 111 | 57 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. You have incapacitated a superhero, and have just started a long-winded speech about how the world would be a better place if you joined forces, etc, when the hero cuts you off after a minute and agrees. You’re shocked. You weren’t expecting this.
|
I looked at the man who had been the one stopping the countless plans over the years, never really exchanging many words with him for obvious reasons. He was the top hero in the world and I was the top villain, we were bound by nature to be rivals. But as the fights went from us simply coming across each other as greenhorns trying to carve our place in the world, to to us fighting fiercely as we had done so many times because it was simply habit.
But for some reason, looking at Oracle on the ground with his knee bent and covered in wounds from our latest fight, he still had that glint in his eyes, a glint of defiance as if he would never admit defeat to me, and in that moment a thought popped into my head.
*What if I can convince him to join me? I've never tried to talk to him, his power is on the same level and combined he and I could change the world.*
In that moment, the countless nights spent planning to fix world, the limitless amount of times he had ruined everything, every time I felt like I was inferior because I missed one small calculation that ended up being the key in my defeat. And finally the bitterness and resentment I felt about towards him for ruining it all was gone.
So I raised my hand to signal that I'm stopping for the moment, and he looked at me curiously. "Oracle, you and I have fought a countless amount of times, never hearing one another's side." I said calmly and saw a confused look on his face as he attempted to stand. "Well, yea.. Everyone knows that you're trying to take over the world, that's the number one rule of villains ain't it?" He asked as he scanned me, probably an attempt to see if I was going to attack while he was distracted. Even while in the corner he stayed alert.
"Taking over the world? I could care less for that." I said and I could tell that threw him into the realm of uncertainty, before he could even utter another word I continued. "This world is corrupted, you can see it in the streets, you can see it in how there are false problems made to rile the masses." I said, the look on his face turning from one of uncertainty to one of intrigue, he always was smarter than the other *heroes.* Always more observant, and not a pure brute like them. "The wealthy turn everyone against one another, take away from the fact that the world currently serves them. They can do as they please, they buy the politicians, the leaders of the military. And even some of you so called heroes to make sure they can live as they want." The look on his face turning to something I couldn't quite tell, nonetheless I carried on. "They donate tiny portions of their wealth to make them saints in the masses eyes, the world will never get better as long as they go untouched." Now it was his time to confuse me. He held up his hand now and I stopped. "So you're saying that your goal isn't being the ruler of the world? It's to knock a very small percentage of people off and give power back to the majority of people?" He asked, he finally seemed to be getting it. "That's the basic rundown of it, but essentially yes." I replied and he smiled. "Well why didn't you just say so? I thought none of the other gifted in the world saw this." He said and chuckled and I smiled.
"So either you're already bought by them, or you're one who also wants to change it. And if we jo-" He quickly interrupted me. "No need to convince me, I knew you were smart, but I just assumed you followed the usual villain M.O. you know, take over the world and live as a king while walking on the backs of those below you." He said with a smile that was similar to mine and then continued. "I'm gonna guess that you're attempting to convince me to join you and together we can end all of this." I simply nodded my head to show that he was right, he had hit the nail on the head in a sense. "I'll do it, we can talk more about this somewhere else." He said and my smile couldn't get much larger.
"You know, that with how this will most likely go, both you and I will go down as villains history. Me as the one who was evil from birth, and you as the one who gave up on the right side and switched when the world needed you the most." I said to test him. "I don't care if I go down as a villain or a hero if I can make the world a better place." He said calmly as I walked up to him, I couldn't be happier as I went to shake his hand.
As we shook hands I felt something, I looked down and saw his left hand gripping a blade that was place right where my heart was, confused I looked up at him. "Man, for a villain you're too fucking naive." He said with a smirk as my vision quickly faded from the blood loss. "You were right when you said they bought even some of us heroes. Maybe you should've been a little more skeptical for a powerful super genius villain." In that moment I could see an evil in his eyes that I had never seen before, no, not an evil, a deep greed, one that probably drove him to be bought. I guess I was wrong, even the best hero could bend his knee to the sin of Greed.
&#x200B;
Oh, my vision is gone, and my hearing is leaving. It seems I'm out of time.
|
I look at my arch nemesis. We were just doing the usual. He would chase me through the city, I would manage to overpower him. Tell him some advice that he would somehow use to get free until I am able to escape from him. Happens every week. Today, I changed the usual. After I managed to capture him, I simply told him he could join me. I also added he could make sure the one he loves is safe from all harm. All superheroes have that one person the love, it's a thing. I decided to go and say what the new world order would be like. It would simply be a dystopian world, but he could have his own continent to do what he feels he wants. Democracy, Monarchy, whatever he chooses to do. He could be my right hand man, and I decided to go about talking about how the bureaucracy would work. He then stopped me mid sentence by saying "wait". He stayed silent for a second. He was likely tired of me blabbering on about what the world could be like. I took this time to look around for a possible exit if, no, when he gets loose. Before I could continue looking, he says "eh, I'll give it a try". I slowly moved my eyes to where that sound came from. I just stared, my mouth slowly opening from shock. No, this is a trap I thought. It couldn't be. I reached into my overly large pocket to make sure I had my high beam photon emitter ready if needed. "So... you're agreeing?" I asked
"Ya, I'm tired of doing this for all those people. They have police, they should do their job".
"But you would be turning against everything you've stood for".
"I'm only doing this for publicity. Did you think I actually cared about those people?"
I just stood there.
And stood there...
Then I reached out my hand to his, which wasn't tied for some reason.
"Then we have a deal" and we both shook hands, while I thought of what to do next.
| 2019-10-07T00:28:35 | 2019-10-06T18:30:01 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] "Thank you, chap," you say cheerfully, "I'm glad to be out of there, the room service was rubbish." The prison guard who just released you from the 120 year sentence dropped the door keys on the cement in shock.
|
The guard stares at me in confusion. He finally realized he no longer had his keys, and dove down to pick them up.
"I say, a bit of a butterfingers are you?" I chuckled. "No worries, it's just another thing to add to my letter."
"Letter?" The guard had finally found his voice. "What letter?"
"To the newsies, boy. I will be writing a very strongly worded letter. I mean, I haven't even been fed in the last, what? Eighty years or so? They stopped laundry only a few years before that."
The guard backed slowly out of the room. I eyed his uniform. They had changed the design again. What had once been a smart set of dark blue suits, was now some kind of... Ugh... Khaki one pieces. As my eyes began to adjust to the light, I could make out some stitching on the breast pocket.
"Old Joey's Security Professionals. I say, is the jail bringing in a third party for it's wardens now?"
"What wardens?" The man finally asked.
"What wardens? Why the jail wardens! I know I had a life sentence, but one hundred and twenty years isn't enough time for the language to change that much!"
A small black box on the man's belt squawked.
"Hey Frank, did you find that old storage closet?" A voice came from it.
The man grabbed the device and spoke into.
"Hey man, call the boss. I found some hobo in one of these old cells."
"Hobo? Hobo!? How dare you sir! I may not be in the best shape right now, but I am no hobo! I am Charles Depree the Fourth, head of the Dupree lineage!"
The man ignored me and backed up out of the cell.
"Damn it Frank, you know Joey don't like being woken up. Just kick the guy out and get the damn mop and bucket."
The man... Frank... looked at me. He was obviously trying to size me up. Once he was satisfied, he nodded, and motioned for me to leave the solitary cell.
"Okay then Mr. Dupree, you are free to go. Get out of here before we call the cops."
I sniffed. I had expected more fanfare. The Butcher of Delville should at least warrent a few reporters. This was ridiculous.
"Where are my clothes! I arrived in a fine bespoke suit! My personal effects are to be returned!"
"Dude, we ain't got no suits here." The man seemed to weigh something in his mind. "It is cold out though, we'll hit up lost and found and find you something warm to wear. Just don't tell your friends or nobody I did this though, it'd be my job."
I followed the man up through the jail. It looked... unused. No inmates called out from their cells. No nasty wardens popped up to beat me. Nothing but dust, cobwebs, and what I presumed were cleaning supplies that Frank had grabbed from the isolation cell that had been next to mine.
He stopped long enough to give the strange bright yellow bucket and mop to his coworker, then led me to the front of the jail. The Head Warden's office had been turned into some kind of shop, and from here Frank pulled out a box filled with clothing.
"Here, try and find something that fits. And layers, I don't know how you got here dressed in rags like that, but it's below minus fifteen out there."
"Negative fifteen degrees!? It never gets that cold!"
Frank gave me another strange look. I would most certainly include this rude guard in my letter.
"Right Mr. Dupree. Look, there might be a shelter open on Butcher Avenue, head there."
"I will return to my ancestral home. Where I belong! I may be a criminal, but there is no need to treat me like this!"
"Sure dude."
Frank let me out. It began to occur that the prison was no longer... in service.
"Mr. Frank?"
"Yo."
"When did the prison... cease being a prison?"
"About... two hundred years ago? It was decommissioned in 1995. Here, take one of these pamphlets with you. If you wanna know more, come in when the museum is open."
Frank shoved a pamphlet in my pocket, then pushed me out a side door into an allyway.
"Two hundred? 1995? But that... that was when I was supposed to be released." I tried to ask more, but he had closed the door.
Edit: butter fingers.
|
[Poem]
"Thank you dear chap
I waited and waited
Room service was rubbish
But that happens when fated
To live out 100 and 20 whole years-
I do say chap you've paled to your ears!"
***The keys went clink***
***On the prison floor***
***Guard staggered back***
***In shock, in awe***
**"What is this a prank? A folly or joke?"**
**"I swear to god if it was one of the blokes-"**
"I assure you dear sir,
I've been here a while
The time has since blurred
But the sentence untrialed
I've been sitting here since I was 1901
Convicted of killing the woman I loved
"But how? you may ask
Did you get to this fate?
Oh dear prison guard
It's never too late
But I've already told you about your mum
And how she was a whore with a massive bum
| 2019-07-04T20:53:01 | 2019-07-04T20:30:50 | 137 | 63 |
[WP] "What did you just say?" Asked the confused alien admiral. "The humans put miniature FTL-drives inside their AMMUNITION!"
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"How did you even get that old piece of junk up here?", Cliff said. He continued to watch Bob slowly drag the old-era weapon across the battle station platform. Bob, clad in a powersuit that is predominantly used to move heavy loads of cargo around the shuttle bays, finally lets his cargo drop to the plasteel floor and stands back up.
"Nah don't you go callin' dis here a piece a junk!", he says as he walks to the side of the outdated piece of weaponry. "This is a howitzer 'n' it's been killin' folk fer longer than you kin imagine." Bob leans down and starts to bolt the old piece of artillery to the platform.
"Alright, alright, it's a howitzer. That doesn't answer the question of how you got it up here, or why you brought it onto this orbital defense platform." Cliff continues to walk in a small circle, watching Bob work. Working with Bob for a while has let him see plenty of Bob's crazy ideas, but this one looks like it is going to take the cake.
Driving the last bolt into place, Bob stands up and cracks his back. "As tuh how I got this baby up here, don't you worry 'bout it. I gots my ways." He walks over to a large cargo container and proceeds to start dragging it towards the howitzer. "Now... as fer why... You know how we 'er fightin' them Klickticians? Well, my boy is out there fightin' in one o' them big ol' carriers and I want him tuh come home. Fixin' to end this war here 'n' now right quick!"
Bob opens the large container and starts rummaging around inside of it as Cliff speaks up. "How are you even going to do that from here? You are on a space station that is orbiting Earth. What can you even do? I know you want to save-"
"Hold it right there.", Bob interrupts. "I ain't doin' this tuh save my boy. Hell, my boy is probably murderin' hundreds o' dem space lizards. I'm doin' this 'cause his Ma's gettin' lonely and she's drivin' me crazy." Bob pulls out a rack of six large artillery shells. A quick glance shows that they are heavily modified and definitely not from the same era as the artillery piece that he is planning to use. "Boy needs tuh come home tuh his Ma."
Cliff looks even more perplexed as he sees Bob plugging a cord into the rack of shells and pulling out his handheld infopad. "Okay.. so you want to end the war. Again, how? This old piece of ju-, er artillery, can shoot what? A few miles."
"Only need about a mile...", Bob says cryptically as he loads a shell into the howitzer. "Look, you know I got a buncha dem knowledge papers right?"
"You mean degrees?", Cliff offers helpfully.
"Yea! Dem, and doctorates. Anyhow, I figured out how tuh make an FTL engine fer these little beauties."
"Wait.. you put an FTL engine in those shells?"
"Damn straight! And since it don't carry no life, I kin ignore all dat silly safety stuff. So it kin work even faster!"
Cliff looks at Bob with a mix of awe and fear. "Sometimes I forget how many... knowledge papers.. you have, Bob."
Bob looks up to Cliff with a smile that is very obviously missing about eight teeth. "Yup! One fer every tooth I lose!" Bob stands up and looks at his infopad for a few moments. "Darnitt!"
Looking even more worried now, Cliff hesitantly asks, "What's the problem?"
Bob thinks for a few seconds and then looks back to Cliff. "One o' dem Klicktician orbital thingies is gonna be in da way if I fire right now." A few seconds of deep thought followed by a shrug is all Bob gives to the idea before he presses the button on his pad. "Ah well. Jus' means I gotta fire twice!"
Cliff fearfully watches as the howitzer fires a shell right into space. It travels to about a mile out and then suddenly winks out of existence. The sudden FTL wake splashes over the station like a tidal wave smashing against a building on our home planet. Both men are thrown off their feet and only prevent being sent into space by their automated magboots that activate and drag them back to the platform.
By the time Cliff is able to focus on the present once again, the second shell is already out of the howitzer. A second FTL wake crashes over them a scant few seconds after the first and Cliff shakily takes a look around. Bob, having gotten an honest to goodness lawn chair out of who knows where, is lounging down in his suit. The station serving as a backdrop to Bob has several fires visible inside the viewing windows. Alarms are sounding as fire suppression teams work to remedy the damage from the unexpected FTL wakes that just slammed into the structure.
Cliff looks down again and sees Bob attempting, unsuccessfully, to drink a traditional beer can through his suit's mask. "Bob..."
"Ya, Cliff?
"Please, don't lose anymore teeth."
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"First of all, HOW DID THEY MANUFACTURE SUCH SMALL DRIVES!?" Screamed the admiral, a little spitle flying across the room and landing on a screen, the poor lieutenant who was currently the focus of the rather angry admirals attention let out a small whimpering sound.
"W....we don't know sir! we've never been able to get them that small bu-" there was a cacophonous boom as yet another round from the human ship slammed into theirs, the entire bridge rocked as alarms began to ring all the louder, new ones joining the old ones, they were hopelessly outmatched by this new, and terrifying technology.
"Admiral! we've lost our coolant system! life support is failing and the reactor is near critical! we have to abandon ship sir!" a terrified CO at a nearby console gibbered as he held onto it for dear life.
"May the emperor save us," the Admiral muttered under his breath as he stumbled to the communications panel, pressing the intercom button to broadcast throughout the ship, "All hands to the life pods! Abandon ship!" no sooner had he finished that sentence, than the ship was rocked by another FTL-Powered Bullet, ripping through the viewing port of the ship, atmosphere instantly venting as the anti-gravity in that room was turned off and the door sealed, the crew now with no gravity in the bridge, flailed manically as they panicked clawing at their throats trying to breathe.
This war was going to be over very soon, thought the Admiral as he felt his body begin to freeze from the temperature, his lungs burning needing air, how could they ever hope to beat a race that was so blatantly insane?
| 2018-02-18T11:35:51 | 2018-02-18T10:29:51 | 103 | 18 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES".
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- That too is also against the rules.- Throughout millennia he had seen hundreds of people try to bypass the rules, none of them were ever successful, and he did not expect her to be any different.
- What are those rules preventing, exactly? Why is there a need for them?- She had already failed three times to make a proper wish because of those rules. If she was to find a loophole she would need to at least get familiarised with them.
- The rules exist to prevent wishers from going too far. They keep us safe from those who don't have the best intentions in mind. People like you.- The genie trusted the rules. It had not crossed his mind yet that this random girl would be any different. She was just another greedy pig.
- I can work with that. Do the rules, any of the rules, limit you in any way?- If the rules were made to limit what the wisher could do, then the only one who would be able to bypass them was the genie. But there was no way she could reasonably make him do that.
- Me? What could they do against me? They just tell you what wishes you cannot make. I am restricted by the lamp. Chained to this useless piece of metal. I could destroy it if I wasn't bound to it.-
Well, that solved the issue.
- Genie, you are a man of favours. But I am the kind of gal who does not want to take without giving. I offer you a deal.-
What.
What did she THINK she could do? She was just so confident about it. The genie was... intrigued. He did not quite believe her, but curiosity got the best of him. He wanted to see how that unfolds.
- What exactly are you offering me?-
- Well, let me tell you how I see the situation. This lamp has taken control of your life, and the wisher's rules are getting in my way. There is nothing we can do to get rid our own problems. We can, however, help each other. I can help you with the lamp if you are willing to let me have it my way.-
He needed a second to think about it. It was not his first time hearing a freedom proposal, but it would have never come from those who seek unlimited power. There was something off about her. But he was willing to try. Passing up these offers would make immortality even more repetitive than it already was.
- You have to be aware of one thing. You are not the first to offer me freedom, and you won't be the last. The lamp always returns. It follows me wherever I go. It comes back together when destroyed. It will never stop. It never has.-
- I do not believe that to be an issue.- A long pause followed that sentence. She was thinking of a way around it.
- Well?-
- My first wish is a hammer, one that can destroy the lamp and set you free. It won't matter how many times the lamp comes back, you'll always have it with you, and the power to become free again will be yours. It matters not to me whether you are able to use it yourself or you'll have to ask someone else to do it for you.-
Holy sandstorms, that might actually work.
The genie snapped his fingers and a silver hammer materialised from thin air. It was ornamented with markings in the shape of wings and gems the colour of the sky, and the head was about the same size as the lamp.
- Granted. What is your next wish?- He did not care what she wished for anymore. He just wanted to get the job over with, and finally be truly free.
- I want you to provide me with an exception. You will make it so that my third wish does not have to abide by any rules.- She was not sure whether or not she actually needed his consent for that one, but if the rules were made to protect genies something like "can't force the genie to do something they don't want to" would be one of the first rules she would add.
- Very well.-
The genie snapped his fingers once more, and the magical book that was playfully flying around him fell flat to the ground. Whatever she would ask for, he'd take it.
- I wish for seven more wishes.- She said, with a triumphant smile on her face.
Fuck. He really fell for that one. Being tied to a lamp was bad, but being tied to someone with infinite wishes was worse.
No. Not infinite. Seven. And he could then refuse to give her more. Seven wishes and he'd be free.
- Alright, you have seven wishes left. But be aware that I don't plan on falling for any of your tricks. You will get another seven, and not one more.-
- That's fine by me. All I ever needed was seven. After that I'll free you and give you the hammer, as promised. Seven wishes will be enough.-
- Enough for what?- He wanted to know what he had got himself into.
- Follow me and find out.- And she was about to show him.
She turned around and walked away, knowing the genie would be right behind her.
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[Poem] Rude wish granted:
“I wish you couldn’t read”
“YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST TO THINK OF THAT, AND IT IS AGAINST THE RULES.”
“Wish you didn’t *want* to read the rules.”
“THATS AG…HUH?”
“You heard me, I wish you weren’t such a rule following nerd.”
“THATS NOT VERY NICE.”
“Is it against the rules?”
“THE RULES INCLUDE THE RULE TO FOLLOW THE RULES.”
“I didn’t say anything about following the rules, I said I wish you didn’t want to follow them.”
“RUDE WISH GRANTED, NEXT?”
“I wish you didn’t have that book.”
“SAME, BUT I HAVE TO OBEY.”
“I wish you’d tell me why.”
“WEIRD WISH GRANTED. I AM A GENIE, AND THESE ARE THE GENIE RULES.”
“I wish you weren’t a genie anymore.”
“BLESSED WISH GRANTED. FUCKING FINALLY, SHIT GETS OLD AFTER THE FIRST THOUSAND MILLENNIA.”
“Ok, could you do me a favor now?”
“IM NOT MAGICAL ANYMORE.”
“I just wanted a permanent friend, but you didn’t seem to want to stick around before.”
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER, MAKING ME CRY.”
“Come on bring it in, it’s hugging time.”
(The now non-genie had never received a hug from a friend while around this star inside this galaxy, memories came flooding back)
“MICHAEL?”
“Yes Apollyon, I’ve missed you and so I recognized you instantly. I’m glad you finally figured out how to follow the rules.”
| 2022-01-04T05:07:23 | 2022-01-04T05:00:14 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] You've just become a vampire. On the downside, finding fresh human blood is hard in the apocalypse. On the upside, being a vampire makes you immune to zombie bites.
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I was making my patrols along the western gate as was usual for the weekdays. No sign of any dead, luckily. Didn't want to have to deal with any in the afternoon sun, esp before going out on a big supply run, not that such runs are ever that dangerous for me. Just didn't want to deal with the burn annoying the hell out of me while I'm out all night.
Heard the call as soon as the sun started to set behind the treeline, bringing with it some delightful shade blanketing the settlement. I could finally step out from the awning covering the circumference of the town walls and actually head into town. Of course, the first place I headed to was the doc's place.
I walked up to the infirmary as a young woman was just leaving. Mary, I believe her name was. She one of the farmhands who deals with the crops growing outside of the walls. Brave girl, seen her crush a walker's skull clean in with a trowel once when a few dead managed to wander into the fields during the night. I peered in the door to the clinic. The Doc's place certainly wasn't spotless, but it was about as sterile as it could be, made better with the disinfectants that I've always made sure to bring back with me on my weekly supply runs.
"Hey doc, gotta go shopping soon, you got dinner yet?"
I always liked to be nonchalant about feeding. Helped me stay true to how I used to be, helped other people see me as human as I want to see myself. Never "blood", just "lunch" or "dinner" or "takeout".
"I sure do, Miss Scarlet. Please, come in. You just missed Mary there. Gave today's donation just a few minutes ago."
"That's good," I said as I entered, feeling disappointed I didn't have a chance to thank Mary for the gift. I made a mental note to do so next time I saw her. Luckily, lapses of memory weren't an issue for me anymore, so I knew I wouldn't forget. "Always glad when I don't gotta microwave it, y'know?"
The Doc nodded, pulling out a bag of pure Red from the icebox. Despite a few minutes in the cold, my senses could tell it was still very close to body temperature. As I took the bag from him, I asked "So, she draw the short straw, or-?"
"No, no, not this time Miss. She had a request for you to add to the list, something she needs that isn't on the requisition list for the week. She hoped that volunteering for the day's duties would help convince you to get it."
"Hell," I sighed. "If she wants something she can just ask. I know things are pretty tense around here still with me but I'm always happy to do a favor if it means making up for all of you opening your doors to me. What's she looking for? Drugs? It's usually drugs with private requests like that, right?"
Doc gave himself a chuckle at that "Oh no no no, nothing like that. She'd like you to retrieve an old photo album from her apartment in the city. Got some memories there she'd like to keep. Nothing too heavy."
"You and I both know heavy ain't a problem."
"Very true, regardless it'd mean a lot to her for you to retrieve it along with the requisition list. I understand you'll be heading into the city anyways for a few mechanical parts regardless, so I told Mary it wouldn't be too much trouble. I do hope that that's actually the case."
I bit down into the blood pack, sucking the liquid down my throat quickly with almost vacuum-like suction. "It ish," I muttered, jaw still firmly clamped around the plastic sack.
I stood there in silence for a minute or two while I finished off the bag. Eventually, it runs dry and I chuck it in the biohazard bin.
"Alright, Doc, I'm off. Thanks for the help."
"You don't need to thank me, Miss. You do more for this small town than anyone else. The other residents may not show it, but they appreciate what you do, and giving up a small bit of their blood once a month is a small price to pay for the safety you've brought us. Hell, some of us donated blood monthly before all this went to shit. As long as it's going to someone good who needs it, I don't think it's anything to get worked up about."
I smirked. "Maybe I'll stop getting looks at town meetings sometime soon then?"
"Maybe."
"Let's hope so. I'll catch ya tomorrow, Doc."
"As will I, Miss Scarlet."
Leaving the clinic, I turned and started walking towards the western gate. Have a big shopping list to whittle down and a favor to repay. As I walked I reminisced about my good fortune. Sure, getting bit and turned by that feral vamp all those months back was a shit show, but they were weak and starving and easy to kill despite the bite. And sure, the sunlight sensitivity was annoying to deal with, but the Rockies have a lot of tree cover. Most importantly, the dead couldn't smell me anymore. They couldn't overpower me, outrun me, or surprise me, and they sure as heck couldn't turn me, but I wouldn't have survived out here without blood to drink, not without becoming just like the feral who turned me. If it wasn't for me saving that caravan from a small horde and escorting it back to Alton, I don't think I'd have lasted much longer before the hunger took everything else. And once I showed what I could do, fight the dead without fear, walk among them without danger, make raids in the night safely without endangering the townsfolk, they welcomed me with... well, open arms would be an exaggeration, but I certainly wouldn't be physically able to enter the city if they didn't mean it when they invited me in every week at the end of a successful shopping trip.
Honestly, I could get used to this.
|
Lucky.
That's the only word I could think of to describe my situation as I shoved my way past the dozens of shambling corpses that walked right past me, swarming the overturned car. Whoever was in the driver's seat was still screaming, though their blood would have long since been contaminated by multiple bites.
Prying the trunk open with a crowbar, I was rewarded with around a dozen cans of food, including (to my pleasant surprise) canned beets. Due to our little arrangement, Garret had been teetering on the edge of anemia for the past week or so. The iron would be good for him, and subsequently me.
A gunshot rang out from the driver's seat and the screaming stopped, yielding to the sound of a dozen feasting corpses. I wasn't sure what had taken the poor sap so long to shoot himself, but none of that was my concern now. Ever since I'd been sent out to scavenge for food, finding guns and ammo had pretty much become a non-issue. I took the cans and left.
\- - -
"Honey, I'm home," I called out as I entered the old apartment.
"Shut up, Stan. What'ya get?"
"The usual. More canned food."
Garret sighed in what could have passed for gratitude or disappointment. He got up, walked to the counter and began his little ritual: swabbing his inner arm with alcohol, sticking himself with the vacutainer, and filling up my favorite coffee mug with his blood.
"We should get some more walkers around the house," he commented. "I saw some people walking around outside. They got pretty close."
I waited until he was done, then took a sip from the mug.
"If we shepherd any more walkers around the building, I'll be the only one that can make it in or out of here."
"Mm, I guess."
Garret walked back over to the window and looked outside.
"I'm serious," I said, gulping down the last of the blood and walking over to him. "I get why we need protection, but you're dangerously close to being trapped here."
"I don't get what the big deal is," my roommate argued. "You can always go out and kill a few if it gets too bad. They keep survivors away."
"And what if you have to get out of here in a hurry? What if there's a fire? You do realize I'm screwed if something happens to you, right?"
"You worry too much."
I was about to shoot something back when the irony hit me. Garret, a human, seemingly paranoid about other humans, while I was lecturing him about the undead being dangerous.
| 2018-11-09T14:13:46 | 2018-11-09T12:37:23 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] All the other wizards bullied you for trying to create your own form of magic, they never believed in you and thought you were crazy, until one day, you create Necromancy.
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**The Council of Physicians looked down on Peter** from their high, wooden pedestals. Each one wore a somber frown or in Madame Solaire’s case, a wicked grin.
The Head Mistress sat in the middle, her silver hair and hard-rimmed glasses glinting in the light. In her hand, a golden staff with two hissing serpents wrapped around the staff's head.
Peter’s heart was thudding in his chest. His hands were cold and he was sweating all over. He wasn’t afraid of the council. He was afraid of what they could take away from him.
“Look, Peter,” the Head Mistress said, “It’s about practical theory. And while you certainly have the theory, we simply don’t see the practice.”
“But I practice every day, Ma’am.”
“That’s the problem, isn’t it? Every time you practice, something dies.”
“Not every time,” Peter argued.
“Last week, you killed the willow tree.”
“I just touched it! I didn’t do anything!” Peter said.
“Last month, you killed an entire generation of lab rats.”
Peter looked down at his feet.
“And yesterday,” the Head Mistress leaned forward. “Yesterday, I was walking down by the lake when I smelled something awful. Do you know what it was, Mr. Grimly?”
He did know. But it wasn’t his fault. He had gone swimming, and the sun felt so good on his skin he must’ve drifted off. The next thing he knew, he was floating in a lake of dead fish.
Peter hung his head. Tears threatened to pour out of his eyes.
“Please, Headmistress. Give me one more chance. I want to become a doctor, *I need to help people*. I will never take another life again. *Please*.”
The Headmistress stared at him.
He blinked up at her, and one tear did fall from his eye. *Damn his lack of control. Nobody studied harder than him. Nobody tried harder, but his life-giving magic always went the wrong way. He had to try harder to control it...*
At length, the Headmistress exhaled through her prodigious nose.
“Mr. Grimly, if I find so much as a single insect laying on its back with its legs in the air... If I so much see a single flower petal turned brown before the fall… we will not have this meeting again. You will be barred from my medical school, *immediately*.”
Peter Grimly almost started sobbing. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut, and nodded.
"Thank you, Headmistress. You won't regret this."
"I really, really hope so, Mr. Grimly. For both our sakes."
To the right of the Headmistress, Madame Solaire was still grinning. *Did she know her teeth were showing?*
***
Ancient, heavy-limbed oaks lined the path back to his dormitory. Normally, Peter would run his fingers through the leaves, just to feel the life pulsing in each branch. But now, he refused to step even on the grass for fear of what he might do.
Life Magic was supposed to go *out* from your finger tips. But when he used it, it always seemed to go the wrong way.
He was halfway across the path when he saw the dog. It was sitting in the middle of the path.
“Wheezy?” Peter said.
The black schnauzer lifted its head. Nobody knew how old Wheezy was, but there was a reason they called him that. Each breath he took was a life-or-death drama.
“Wheezy, I have to practice. Do you mind letting me get past you?”
Wheezy rolled over. At first, Peter thought the dog was ignoring him. But when Wheezy lifted a lazy leg into the air, he realized what the dog wanted: a belly rub, the toll to pass Wheezy’s bridge.
Peter looked down at his hands. Looked up at the dog, who waited patiently for payment. *Peter, you’re going to be a doctor. You can’t be afraid to touch everything that breathes. You’re in control.* He balled up his fists. *Yes, you’re in control.*
So, he leaned to pet the dog, but before he could, Wheezy's leg dropped and he let out one last, final wheeze. And his ancient soul was finally freed from its mortal, four-legged coil.
Peter gawked. Peter looked at his hands, a silver, misty essence swirling around his fingers.
And then, Peter made a choice that would change medical magic forever.
He refused to let Wheezy die.
***
*Should I keep going?*
*Edit:* It's up! **[Read part 2.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/i6h8sx/wp_all_the_other_wizards_bullied_you_for_trying/g0wgicp/)**
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“Attempt, 343” I scribble down into my journal “This may be my final attempt” I close it with a sigh, and look back at the graves, I had to do this, I didn’t dig up these graves for nothing. Resurrection has never been done before, they all say it’s “too dangerous” to even consider. That probably explained why I was casted away from society, but that’s beyond the point. Placing the skeleton on the table, checking my books and looking at that journal I add “Here goes nothing” I mutter the words “Every day, every night, one above, Give Us Blight!” Energy pounds across the room as if Thor himself was against us. The pain was excruciating, but I had to hold on, or else it’d fail yet again. The fight lasted nearly a minute, when the energy drowned out, I barely was able to look upwards to the table. The skeleton looked at me, in shock. It was no longer human, it was... undead.
Looking at it, I realized that although I may never figure out how to do revivals, I learned one thing still. The entirety of the dead were in my control. I felt something I never felt before, *power*. This... could be my key to gain my rightful spot, back on that throne. I could finally get rid of the one who stole it from me long ago.
Edit: Thx for so many likes ^^
| 2020-08-09T07:03:28 | 2020-08-09T06:41:28 | 143 | 28 |
[WP] write about a sexual encounter in such great detail that someone of the opposite gender might understand what it is like have sex as man/woman [NSFW]
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She leans into me and we kiss then I wrap my arms around her and pull her close. My face is buried in her strawberry blonde hair and the gentle scent of coconut washes over me. She smells so good I just want to stand there, hold her and drink in that heavenly scent, but her moving, curious hands quickly pull me back to the world and remind me that we both have desires that simple smells won’t satisfy.
She pulls her head back and looks up at me. Our eyes lock and she smiles at me. She has slight dimples, deep, green eyes and a smile that melts me. I lean down and kiss her. Her lips and tongue taste of the wine we recently finished. I pull her against me as we kiss harder with passion and I let my right hand travel down her back and rest in the curve of her lower back just above her hip. She shifts her hips, arches her back and it is like that spot was created for my hand to fit in it as her body curves to fit mine. It is as if we are millions of years of evolution finally realized. Generations of humans passing their DNA from one to another has led to this, to us fitting together perfectly. We are art at its most majestic.
There are no words spoken, just movements and gestures; small noises and the rustling of clothes as I pull her shirt off and she unbuttons my jeans. I nearly fall as I try to step out of them and we look at each other laughing, enjoying the moment. She slithers out of her skirt, her hips moving with a rhythm that can’t be taught. We both know we would be more comfortable if we went to the bedroom and crawled into bed, but desire doesn’t require comfort. Desire demands instant gratification.
As we make our way to the floor she slides under me, hooking her feet around my lower legs and putting her hands on my hips. She pulls me into her pressing herself against me. I can feel myself beginning to throb in my boxer briefs. She loves to kiss, which is fantastic as far as I am concerned. Our tongues play a familiar, sensual game that soon has me so hard it is starting to ache. She can feel me pressed up against her and releases her legs from mine.
I pull her now slightly wet panties off, quickly slide out of my underwear then I am right back on top of her. Her right hand is behind my neck, pulling my mouth to hers while her left hand wraps gently around my shaft guiding me to her. I enter slowly, pressing just the tip in then our eyes lock and I can sense just looking at her that she wants all of me inside her. I ease myself in, pressing my hips against her and burying every last inch home. She lets out a gasp as I moan. I slowly begin to thrust. Her hands are back on my hips pulling me in deep, clawing gently at my skin with a wanton passion that is animalistic and primal.
Our eyes once again connect as I build up speed. She smiles. That smile kills me. It fucking slays me. It is sexy, passionate and welcoming all at once. It conveys emotion that the spoken word might trip over. I can feel the carpet burning my knees, but I don’t care. At this point our bodies are working together like a finely oiled machine. I am driving into her faster and harder with each thrust. Between the grunts, groans, moans and guttural noises she clenches her teeth and says, “Take me!” I pull her right leg up over my left shoulder. It gives me enough room to move my hips a little more and gives me a little extra leverage to push harder
The sweet smell of coconut is now dancing with the pungent scent of our combined sweat. I can feel her getting close. I can tell by the fire in her eyes that she is about to explode. She pulls her leg off of my shoulder, wraps her arms around my neck and lets herself go. I can only describe it as a feeling of having your dick sheathed inside a velvet lined volcano. She pulls herself to me and I sit up, letting her wrap her arms and legs around me as I hold her against my body and sit on my knees. Her hips are thrusting uncontrollably. A noise slips from her mouth and into my ear that is so raw and basic that it lets me know her guard is completely down. She is sharing every part of herself with me in this second.
Feeling her clinch on my shaft, groaning in my ear and writhing in my arms sends me into such a fit of passion I lay her back on the floor, hold her hands down on the carpet and drive myself into her with such prejudice that it is almost anger then I, like she just did, explode. Everything I know, feel and understand fades away as my entire body is focused on the overwhelming sense of pleasure that is radiating from the part of me that is deep inside her. It is the center of my universe.
When we finish we are both speechless. We lie on the floor arm in arm and catch our breath. After a moment I look down and see a little blood on my knee. I’m going to need a band aid.
*edit - thanks for all the kind words. I am glad you all are enjoying my story. It is based on a real person and real experience. I was just hoping to do the moment justice here.
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Woman. My favorite position is missionary. First he touches my clit and plays with it, getting me nice and wet. "Get wet for me," he whispers sending chills down my spine. My pussy starts to get swollen and my clit gets hard like his cock. All the blood is flowing to my vagina. I love to feel my boyfriends heavy body pressing against mine. When my boyfriend puts his cock inside me at first it hurts a little bit but when he gets his hard rod all the way in I moan and my wetness coats his penis. I feel this pleasurable pressure inside of my vagina and I feel the thick fullness of his cock. He goes gentle at first and slides in and out slowly and gets wetter every time. He begins to easily go in and out. The sides of my vagina throb with the pleasurable pressure and I want him deeper. I grab him putting my legs in the air and say "deeper." He obliges. I lay there moaning loudly and pulling him into me. I like to feel my breasts rub against his chest and bounce with his thrusts. He gets in a rocking rhythm. He pulls his dick out, and I feel my grip on him with my inner labia. He is teasing me and plays with my nipples. I feel this wonderful tingling sensation, but it feels like my vagina is burning with intense pleasure. "Get inside me" I say. He pushes his cock into me and I feel full of him again. He thrusts faster now reaching the G-spot and I feel him hitting the swollen bump like an itch that NEEDS to be scratched. I rub my clit against his pubic bone and go insane. I convulse and yell "FASTER DEEPER HARDER OHHHHHHH" and feel my body shaking and my vagina pulsates. He cums deep into my belly and it's warm and filling. We are both VERY satisfied. (Typical sex with my loving boyfriend)
| 2014-09-10T20:18:24 | 2014-09-10T17:08:25 | 57 | 13 |
[WP] A ghost and a zombie meet. They're from the same person.
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"Really sorry about them," I scratched into the plaster wall, referring of course to the horde of zombies pounding on the door. The occupants of the room slowly watched the letters form, utterly horrified. It was bad enough that they were cornered in this little country farmhouse, out of supplies, surrounded by flesh-eating ghouls... and the place they picked to hide just happened to be *haunted*? Come on, though: it's not like I was writing it in blood or something.
"What do you want with us?" one of them shouted, a man with a scruffy grey beard and a red kerchief tied around his neck. It made me think of Fred from Scooby Doo, for some reason. I guess that's the only person I knew of who actually wore a kerchief. Fred was brandishing a shotgun and swinging it wildly, pointing at every shadow as if that would do anything against ghosts. Hell, I *wish* it would. I *wish* I could end this torment. I was tired of following my disgusting zombified body around, watching it eat whatever rodents it could get its filthy hands on. Yesterday it had even eaten a rat. One of those big grey monsters that you'd picture living deep in the depths of the Manhattan subway.
I sighed and once again started scratching at the plaster. I really wish that I had a better way of communicating, but being a ghost has its pretty severe limitations. If only someone would steam up a damn mirror, this would go a lot faster. But of course I couldn't communicate that to them. Not to mention the fact that the pipes had been dry for near two months now, and the water heater would be dead too. "I'm going to help you get away from the zombies," I wrote.
The survivors all breathed a sigh of relief, except for paranoid old Fred. He probably didn't trust the undead, and I really couldn't blame him. My body was still out there, after all. I could see it clawing at the house's kitchen window right now, getting little shards of glass in the skin of my palms. And after all those years of moisturizing to keep my skin in good shape, too. What a waste. But if I didn't do something soon, my body might find itself with a bullet through the brain. Thus ending my chance to be reunited with my body once and for all.
I zipped over to the local church. See, being a ghost doesn't just have its drawbacks. There are perks, too. Like being able to teleport miles away in the blink of an eye. I found myself at the top of the belfry, right next to the frayed rope and massive iron bells. And I gave the rope a hearty tug. Peels sang out across the fields, calling to the zombies all throughout the village. I rang the bell over and over again until I began to see them streaming through the fields toward me like ants marching back to their queen. Then I zipped back to the house.
The survivors were watching out the windows as the zombies abandoned their attempts to break down the doors and moved on to the church in hopes of fresh meat. "Should be safe for a while," I carved into the wall.
Fred finally lowered the shotgun. "Thank you... errrr... ghost."
"You're welcome," appeared on the wall in a cloud of plaster bits. I had impeccable manners even in 'death.' If this actually is death, after all. Even after months as a spirit, I still wasn't quite sure.
A woman came up behind Fred and looked around, trying to spot any sign of me. It's not like the movies where I appear as a big white sheet, unfortunately. I'm completely invisible. "Is there anything we can do for you?"
I drew a circle on the wall, around the portrait of the young woman with raven hair. The one who'd cursed me in the first place, wrenching my soul out of my body. She was the whole reason that I was camped out around this stupid house. Had she known what it would do? Had she known that it wouldn't actually kill me? That my body would go on 'living,' and spread its effect to so many others? Had she known that she would ruin the world for something so petty as revenge? "Find this woman," I carved into the wall. "And bring her here."
It was a long shot, of course. She was probably dead, just like all the others. And even if she could reunite me with my body, who's to say that that would help the millions of others who have been 'affected' (by which I mean devoured alive)? Still, it would be nice to be able to speak again.
Fred nodded and shouldered his pack. "We'll try."
I watched them gather their meager supplies and wander off into the woods, far away from the teeming mob of undead in the city center. They were the fourth... no, *fifth* group that I'd sent off to look for the witch. Maybe they'd have enough luck to return.... but I didn't have high hopes. Ah, well. Better go check in on my corpse again.
|
Four months and ten days I've been floating around here trying to touch.. Well.. Anything. The movies always make being a ghost seem cool. All spooky noises and throwing dish wear, but in reality there's not much to do aside from float around and be angry that you didn't survive.
The zombies came a few years ago, I think.. I can't really remember at this point, things are fuzzy. My girlfriend and I ran down to this bunker we remembered from when we were kids and hid safely for a while. If she hadn't let stupid Chad come in we would still... Well I would still be a alive, I don't know where she is now.. Probably off with Chad in his muscle car with the crappy welded cow catcher on the front and his bay ran sunglasses.. Dick.
^crash!
Huh, I wonder what that was.. Is that... Seriously!? There's a zombie in here with me! What an ugly bastard.. Face partially eaten away and limbs dangling at odd angles.. What's left of the limbs at least.
That poor bugger must have gotten mauled by a few of the undead before he reanimated.
Wait...
That tattoo...
That...
GOD DAMN IT, CHAD!
My damned body just got up from the corner and is walking repeatedly into the wall... How did I even get infected?! I've never been bit or any... Fucking chad! That douche must have left the door open when he ran away with her and... I was fucking sleeping man! Uncool, Chad... Uncool.
Maybe if I just run really fast at my body I can at least get it out of here.. Okay...
3...
2..
1.
**pop**
| 2016-03-21T11:02:18 | 2016-03-21T10:39:05 | 82 | 22 |
[WP] In this dystopian society, citizens are only allowed to say words that are on the 'approved common words' list. All other word lists must be purchased before you are allowed to say a word from them. The rich have a distinct advantage.
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"I'm so happy you got to come with us today, Tom, it's really an enourmous pleasure." Said Tom's boss.
Tom couldn't say his name, however, he just smiled and lifted his drink to the sky as if to say "cheers." Tom didn't have the vocabulary for much more than the simple phrases: Yes, No, Maybe, Please. All of his comerades just thought he was quiet. Words were getting hard to come by nowadays and only party memebers could really afoord them anymore. Tom was a party member, he was hell bent on getting words, and he often did.
As the party had said, the "Less words the less talking people do." Yeah, no shit. Tom set his drink down and motioned for his slave, Jenny. He gave her the valet ticket implying that he wanted to go home, and off she went waddling away like the peasant she was.
As the old man drove his car in front of the mansion, Tom focused on the condition of his car. He saw a scratch. A SCRATCH! He furiously walked around to the driver's side and ripped the old man out of his seat.
"What the hell? Please no, no. I beg of you!" The man yelled at the top of his lungs as he lay on the ground.
With a silent rage, Tom pulled out his handgun and aimed it at the feeble man's head.
"God, no, no I have a family please."
Tom looked him in the eye. This was a man of many words. Without hesitation he pulled the trigger and felt the gray-haired man's vocabulary come rushing into his mind. Perfect, the one word he was looking for.
Getting into his car, Tom adjusted his rear view mirror and sped off, no regard for the people in front of him or behind. The only thought that crossed his mind was:
"Yes! Yes"
Tom sprinted into his house, removing his jacket before he arrived at the door and throwing it onto the fluffy couch. Too excited to care, he went into his bedroom. There were no cameras here, he was safe to do whatever he pleased.
Oh, the time Tom had spent and the people he had to kill, friends, family, even his own children. Tom wrote the final word in the dictionary.
"Hell /hel/ (n.) a place regarded in many religions as spiritual realm of evil and suffering."
He closed the book, relieved he had finally freaking finished.
"Jenny" He called, to which she came promptly into the room.
"Yes?" She asked.
"I want you to read this. I want you to make copies of it and I want this spread around the entire country. Do you understand?" He leaned back in his chair and turned to her as she peeled through the pages.
"Why?" she inquired.
"Life without words is boring and meaningless. I can't flip through another single-minded party novel in which the author can only use single syllables. I can't go to another party and wait to find new words of which I can never use until it's written in that damned book." Tom retorted, somewhat emotionally "I just can't do it"
There was a pause, and she had begun to take in the words, he saw her face light up with each new discovery.
"One more thing." He looked at her with a stern glance.
"Yes?"
"There's one more word I want you to have."
He took his gun from his pocket and handed it to his faithful servant.
"You must shoot me."
"Why?"
"One more word"
She looked at the gun, frightened. She sized up and assesed the man in front of her. He looked tired, worn, beaten. She lifted the gun, aimed it at his head.
As his body fell to the floor she heard a faint whisper.
"I love you"
Edit: I would really appreciate some feedback. I usually lurk and never show anyone what I choose to write over these but this one was too good to pass up. Thanks!
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Red Feeling. Bad Feeling. Much feeling, bad heart take beating.
End, want end. Many want end feeling.
Very bad. Very bad feeling. Brothers die, sisters cry.
Others too. Hurt by money men. Money men, make money. No loss
Loss? No loss brothers and sisters for the money men, the money men laugh.
Time for change. Save many moneys, long time save moneys, buy word. One word.
| 2017-09-20T15:37:30 | 2017-09-20T09:34:02 | 42 | 18 |
[WP] People inherit the best qualities of the people they've killed, but murder is still illegal. You, a born paraplegic, wake up, feeling better than ever before, able to do things you were never able to do, and people are noticing. You don't remember last night.
side note, i had a dream i posted this writing prompt and onision took it seriously and tried to kill me in an ikea
edit: i said "word prompt" but i meant "writing prompt". i'm sleepy.
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I can't say that my friends haven't warned me. But then again, they still encouraged me to drink with them and they sure as hell didn't try and stop me at any point. For the life of me, I can't remember how much I've had; In fact, I can't remember much of anything of last night, but I've got the biggest head ache to remind me that I've probably had too much. Strangely, despite the head ache, I'm feeling great. Perhaps it's distracting me from the usual pain.
As a paraplegic, I can't ever walk straight, so you'd think getting drunk is a less of a big deal, but this is the first time I've ever experienced this. A strange tingling sensation runs throughout my entire body as I'm waking up. I've never felt this way before in my life. It's weird.
Even weirder is that I find myself on the bathroom floor, next to my wheelchair. The floor around me seems clean, but a foul smell hangs in the air.
I'm still wearing yesterday's clothes. Stone washed jeans and a white sweater, even a new pair of Nike's on my feet. Clara had picked them out for me before we went out. It always meant so much to her that we spend nights out with friends as if I were just a regular guy. But yesterday was different: she was more insistent, more emotional than usual. I was all too glad to go along. It was good to see her happy every once in a while.
"Clara! Clara?" I yell as I pull myself towards the wheelchair. I can manage to climb it on my own, but it's so much easier with her help. Sadly I receive no response.
Being bogged down with a major head ache after just waking up, this isn't the most gracious attempt at climbing my chair. To make matters worse, when I almost manage to get on top, I accidentally let my grip on the breaks slide, and the entire thing rolls back away from me. I barely manage to prevent myself from falling to the floor by lifting myself into a squatting position.
I suddenly find myself looking at the world from an entirely new perspective. My knees can hold my weight! Emboldened, I try to stand up; I immediately turn to the mirror and see myself staring back, standing up straight. Tears roll down my cheeks as I touch the mirror, then bend down and touch my knees.
I pinch myself in the arm just to check if I am dreaming, but I can feel it. Then I press on my left leg, and I can sense it. Then I hold my right foot, and I can believe it. The smile on my face grows so wide that for a split second I worry it might rip a tear into my face.
Carefully at first, I walk out of the bathroom and into the hall. Then, after a few steps, I start running, all the way through the hallway to the front door, and outside.
I can sense the grass tickle my feet; the most blissful feeling I've ever felt. With the morning sun heating my face, I allow myself to take it in. I feel liberated.
The neighbours stare at me in awe for a moment before returning to their gossip, still keeping an eye on me. They have the deepest distrust in their eyes, but I don't care. I feel happier than ever, and I want nothing more than to share this moment with the love of my life, so I run back inside.
"Clara! Clara, where are you?
Clara, the most wonderful thing has happened!"
Still running, I go all around the house, briefly glancing into every room, but I find no trace of Clara before I get back to the bathroom.
From outside, I hear police sirens. The alarm sound echoes through the bathroom as I discover the source of the stench I smelled earlier and time slows down.
The bath is filled almost to the brim. In it, she lies gracefully. Her brown hair is spread out wide across the surface of the water, her beautiful eyes just beneath the surface, gazing at the ceiling. Her right arm balances on the edge of the bath and the tops of her soft fingers are charred.
The moment I see the hairdryer floating above her body, I turn away. My stomach's turning and I can feel last night's liquor come up in my throat.
Vaguely, I can hear a loud noise downstairs as the police are knocking on my door when my gaze meets a note on the floor. I collapse as I recognise her hand writing.
*Dear Eric,*
*Please take my health, as it is the only way I can give you happiness. I hope that with it, you can be happy for the both of us.*
*I also hope that you will be able to forgive me for travelling the only path I saw fit to escape my own demons.*
*The last of my love,*
*Clara*
|
As is stood in the waiting room I couldn't help but feel remarkable. Today was the first day I've stood since the accident. It's the first day I've had any feeling in my legs at all. I had no idea blood felt so warm as it ran down my skin and traced a path to my socks.
A room full of murdered lawyers. To some, this would be the end of a funny joke. Or wet dream.
The last guy had seen all of his friends and coworkers die. And he knew how to fight. I didn't. I was losing the fight and I missed with my last three bullets. They whizzed right by his head. But then I suddenly turned the tide. It was as if I could sense my legs learning self defense. They were just basic moves, but they served me well. Well enough to drop the last man and snap his neck.
I knew explaining the murders in the law office would be a cake walk. I had never felt better. I could argue with the best attorneys now. I could convince the toughest judges. The feeling of complete Euphoria was unlike anything I've ever experienced. I walked out the hallway never more sure of myself. As I turned the corner to walk down the hallway I realized it would be tougher to explain the two dead children in their karate class next door.
| 2017-09-01T11:50:35 | 2017-09-01T08:49:42 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] You have a very mundane talent, so mundane that you've never shown it to anyone. The first time you do, as a party trick, you're told that your talent is physically impossible.
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I remember watching a video where a guy would bend spoons. He had a weird accent and I recall thinking he was oddly handsome, in his 80s clothes and 80s hair. But spoons weren't the only thing he could do amazing things with - he could make objects rotate without touching them, bend house keys, describe hidden pictures and all manner of other simple tricks.
His name of course, was Uri Geller.
No one in my family ever had any doubt he was a charlatan - that these 'feats' were nothing more that sleight of hand or trickery. My sister and I would play at these games, trying to duplicate the 'powers' of Mr Geller - and over time we figured out our own ways to cheat and make the impossible seem possible.
But as we grew older, both of us forgot about Uri and his spoons and became more enamoured of boy bands and celebrities.
The tricks that we perfected though, I never forgot. They were calming, soothing - and sometimes I would practice them when I was stressed or anxious; the familiar forms relaxing my knotted thoughts.
&nbsp;
The party wasn't going well.
Far too many people crowded the apartment and things were too loud. Protectively holding my drink to my chest, I made my way to the kitchen, looking for my bestie, Jess.
"You seen Jess?" I yelled to one of the guys near the fridge.
He just shrugged, I wasn't even sure he'd heard what I said. The kitchen led to one of the balcony doors and I found Jess out there, getting some air - or so I thought.
"Jess?"
As she turned her carefully made-up face to me, I knew something was wrong. Tear-tracks marked the contouring blush and suspicious blurs surrounded her eyes. She'd been crying out here, alone.
"Oh Jess."
Sobbing, she let me enfold her in a hug, words hiccuping into my shoulder,
"He dumped me, Sara. In front of the others."
"Oh shit honey, I'm so fucking sorry! I should have been there for you."
Untangling herself she sniffed and wiped her nose on a napkin.
"No, you weren't to know. You were having a good time - my shit shouldn't ruin that."
"Seriously? This is the worst party. I've barely spoken to anyone."
She blinked, dabbing at the corners of her eyes,
"I just wish I could stop thinking about him."
Regarding my distraught friend, I held up my index finger,
"Wait here a sec, I'll be right back."
Pushing back into the kitchen, I yanked open the most likely drawer and grabbed a handful of spoons, before exiting again and pulling the sliding door closed behind me.
Placing down all but one of the spoons, I held one up,
"Watch this."
Rubbing the spoon with my finger, I held the tip of the handle. As I rubbed, the metal deformed and the bowl of the spoon drooped.
Jess grinned at me through her tears,
"I had no idea you were into this hokey magic crap."
In response I fingered an imaginary moustache,
"You insult the Great Sara!"
She giggled as I put a spoon on the outdoor table and slowly rotated it without touching it.
"And now, for my final trick, the *friend bend*!"
Placing a spoon in her hand, I closed her fingers around the handle, leaving plenty of spoon still visible.
*"Behold!"* I proclaimed, standing back and moving my hands around hers. As she watched, the spoon drooped, then folded in half and the bowl fell to the floor with a *clink* on the patio tiles.
Jess's hand shook slightly,
"How did you do that?" she whispered.
I shrugged,
"It's just a dumb spoon trick."
"No it isn't," she interjected, "you can't bend a spoon *in someone else's hand!*"
"Sure you can; it's all just the same thing."
Shaking her head vehemently now, Jess pointed to the four remaining spoons.
"Bend them. Bend them without touching them."
"Whatever," I responded, focusing on the spoons, stroking them with my imaginary fingers. One by one, the spoons deformed and bent in on themselves - one snapped clean in half.
"Sara," Jess said, swallowing thickly, "what you just did was *impossible*."
|
lots of people have silly little tricks they can do with their hands. you can wiggle your fingers in strange ways, bend them in any sort of direction. you can make your thumb touch your wrist or you can bend your whole hand at the wrist. so many kids in my grade school did all sorts of those things and they're so much better than my trick. its been years since I've done it but i was a little drunk at the time and there were girls that wanted to see some tricks so i did it. Instead of the vague interest or more likely disinterest i had expected i was met with screaming. All i did was twist my index and middle finger around so that they changed places and from the way they were acting it sounded like i'd broken my hand. even after popping them back into place everyone didn't calm down. all of my bones are fine and i have full motor control, I'd like to leave this hospital but they want to take some X-rays of my hand while I've done the trick.
| 2015-11-28T11:08:36 | 2015-11-28T10:47:01 | 461 | 28 |
[WP] You find an empty notebook on the ground in an alleyway one night and using it for reminders you write "remember to feed the cat" and the next morning you see on the news, "BREAKING NEWS: Scientists receive message from distant galaxy via radio waves that says, 'remember to feed the cat'".
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My palms went sweaty against the tattered moleskin. Surely, I'd heard wrong. The wide-eyed reporter had misspoken, or I mean, maybe I was still dreaming. I nearly stumbled making my way over to the kitchen counter.
The ticker at the bottom of the newscreen cast aside all doubts. It read:
*Breaking! Alien contact means full bellies for felines across the globe.*
"Holy shit," Francie said. "Does this mean I can skip school?" She'd dropped her spoon into her cereal bowl. Cheerios and two-percent spilled onto the laminate by her stool, and ironically enough Mr. P.I.B ambled over and licked up the mess.
I set the moleskin down with a shaky hand and turned up the volume. "Don't curse," I said. "At least--not in front of me." I stared at the notebook, sitting innocently on the Formica, as the reporter stammered on.
"The President has already called for a special session, and we're learning that NASA is attempting to coordinate the source of the mysterious message."
The camera cut to the newsdesk, where a slackjawed anchor looked as if he'd walked in on his grandmother naked.
"What a momentous occasion," his partner said. "What do you suppose it means Perd?"
The anchor blinked. A single strand of gelled hair sprung loose from his slick back hairdo.
"I...It's..."
He stood up abruptly.
"Princess Purr needs her tuna!"
Francie burst out laughing, nearly snorting a spoonful of milk through her nose. She looked to me, half-choking, but I was too busy sorting through the million thoughts that were whizzing through my head. Was this really happening? It couldn't possibly be, could it?
I picked up the notebook--a happy, after-grocery-run find. At the time I thought, sure, the star doodles on the cover were childish, but it would be a perfect, if uncomfortable "reminder" book to stuff in my back pocket.
I'd written the exact message now scrawling on the bottom of the newsfeed.
*Don't forget to feed the cat*
When I opened the pages, the words were still there. Only no longer in my chicken-scratch handwriting. They were printed, as if by a typewriter, right onto the page. I ran my thumb over the letters, but they refused to smudge.
"Holy shit," I whispered.
"Hey!" Francie said. "Rules don't apply to you?"
Her voice was already down the hall. My mind might have been a complete jumbled whirlwind, but I had to test this out. I ran to my office and threw the notebook down onto my desk.
First and foremost, I had to make sure I wasn't going crazy. So, I decided to write something else. Something that couldn't possibly be a coincidence. I mean, sure, the chances of an alien civilization reaching out to Earth with the exact same message I'd written into a mysterious notebook were pretty slim, but I had to silence that squeaky voice in the back of my mind. Because...if this was *really* real...I had the means to communicate with the human race directly. If I played this right, who knows what systemic problems I might be able to fix? I'd be humanity's unsung hero--the man behind the messages that resulted in *World Peace*--a hero hidden behind anonymity.
When I finished my entry, right below the typescript from the night before, I leaned back and smiled.
*Don't look after you wipe.*
Just ridiculous enough to silence my inner doubt, and at the same time, reap minimal ramifications.
In the morning, I'd caused global panic.
Internet forums were full of faroff claims saying they knew someone who looked, and upon seeing whatever calamity the aliens warned us of, promptly had a heart attack. Religious figureheads took offense to popular theory, claiming the messages were actually from God. According to them, clearly, the act of defecating should now be considered a sin.
Entire countries nearly dissolved. Russia, upon hearing the news an outside entity was giving them instructions, made it rule of law to look after every wipe--and not only that, but call all those in the nearby vicinity to take a gander as well. Public restroom lines now took immeasurably long. Restaurant businesses across the globe were in shambles. Entire economies stumbled and fell, as if on stilts.
Scrambling to right my wrong, that night I wrote: *Stay Calm*.
Surely, there'd be no misinterpreting that, right? The globe would take a collective breath and return to normal. Then, I could work on that world peace thing.
Wrong.
World leaders went bezerk because I'd capitalized a "C". Headlines read: *Calm: friend or foe?* and *New Message from Above: We think you're dogs.* Protests broke out outside of NASA, where picketers flaunted signs depicting nukes of various phallic varieties launched into space--though they didn't even have a target destination.
At dinner, even Francie theorized on the meaning.
"Maybe Calm is what they named their intergalactic space worm," Francie said. "Maybe they stopped him from devouring our solar system like something straight from the movies."
Frustrated, I tried to nudge her in the right direction.
"Maybe they just didn't want the world to fall into chaos."
Francie paused, chewing on her carrots. Her adams apple bobbed as she swallowed, then she said, "Dad, that's lame as shit."
I was still convinced I could clear up this clusterfuck. So, after I tucked Francie into bed, I sat in my office sucking on the end of my ballpoint pen. Eventually, I wrote:
*Prepare to die. We have lasers.*
My line of thinking was this: if everyone felt threatened perhaps they'd drop all this nonsense and band together. Some super-technological race speeding towards us hellbent on our destruction was surely a big enough threat for countries to end the madness and focus, altogether, on the singular task of defending the human race. Needless to say, I went to bed convinced my cleverness had just ended the turmoil. All would be right in the world by the time the sun next peaked through my windowshades.
Francie tugged me out of bed at the crack of dawn.
"Dad," she said, excitement laced in her voice. She tugged me along towards the television set, which showed a nervous reporter and the words *Countries Vie for Top Response to Alien Provocation: Twitter War Ensues*.
Francie was practically hopping up and down. "Dad, look!" she said. "Trump just tweeted 'Laser? I don't even know her'."
|
Oh boy, this was going to be fun
Jerry didn’t believe exactly if this was a coincidence or if the book actually worked so he wrote another sentence
“Help me, I’m trapped in space”
That’d spark controversy and would make the governments spend a lot more on space travel
As expected, the newspaper reported this the next morning:
“News just in, we may be being contacted by aliens. We received another message from the depths of space yesterday, saying “Help me, I’m trapped in space. What do you guys think? Is this an alien or just a joke from the scientists? Tweet us: @Genericnewsanchor”
Yup, this was real, all right. Jerry grinned, took out his pen, and began writing.
(This was my first story, so Constructive criticism would be appreciated.)
Part 2:
What should Jerry write next? Writing to ask for money? No, too risky
Thousands did other ideas and possibilities rushed through Jerry’s head. None of them were actually useful, except one...
(4 days later)
Jerry had anxiously awaited the arrival of the package he had asked for. Delivering to Jerry’s house exactly was risky, so he had it delivered to his mother’s house instead.
This was on the basis of “so we can communicate” haven’t seen her for years” all those semi-true lies. Jerry hadn’t actually seen his mother since the accident.
At last, Jerry was certain that the package had most surely been delivered by now, so he phoned his mum to tell her
“Hello?”
“Hey, mum. It’s me. Sorry for having not talked to you for a few years I wa-“
“No, no it’s fine.”
The sound of (not very well) muffled tears was now clearly writing louder
“No, mum, it’s not. But, there is one thing you can do...”
“Yes, yes? Please, I’ll do anything. I just want to see you a few more times before-“
“Don’t even talk about that.”
“Alright, my bad. So what did you want me to do?”
“Check your mailbox”
“What’s in it? Jerry? Jerry!”
*Beep Beep Beep*
The tears were now streaming down Jerry’s mums face in a steady flow.
Alright, she thought. I’ll check the mail
The mailbox was overflowing with letters as it hasn’t been checked since - that.
However, one small red package stuck out just a tiny bit more than the rest. His was the one he had Ben wanting her to get, she thought.
After returning inside, Jerry’s mum opened the parcel carefully. After much confusion, she removed the cover.
Tears were now completely covering the floor, enough to hydrate California for the next decade.
Smiling through tears, she lay down in bed and placed the small object beside the drip in her table.
The last thing she saw was the photo of Jerry’s graduation, the one that had been restored to near perfect quality by the government.
Then her vision faded, and she breathed her last breath.
Jerry sat at home, struggling to cope with the news. He had used the one chance he had to see his mum one last time.
She had died two days before her 80th birthday.
Jerry last saw her after the accident - 20 years ago. That photo he made the government send her - the photo she got angry over him throwing out, causing her to fly into a rage and get caught up in the accident - she never recovered.
| 2018-03-22T09:58:31 | 2018-03-22T09:18:18 | 203 | 19 |
[WP] You are a vampire. The last time you went to sleep was in Florence during the height of the Renaissance. You awake to an apocalyptic wasteland.
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Your coffin was made by the absolute best. Finest craftsmanship in all of Italy, they'd said. Granted, they'd also said that while you were threatening to turn them, but that's not what matters. The point is, no night stalker had ever slept in a coffin so fine as this one. Four inches of thick olive wood on all sides, with the most beautiful engravings you'd ever seen. You took one look at it and knew you had to sleep in it that very same day. The next intruder upon your domain would know they were only being taken down by the single most *elegant* vampire lord in history.
It probably would have been prudent to work out how to open it from the inside.
Sealed away in the dark, you pounded and pounded and pounded for who knows how long, but it was all in vain. The damned craftsman must've put a curse on it, something to keep you trapped for all eternity. All well and good, though - you'd spent enough time accumulating power that you could lay down here for *centuries* before you needed to try again. As such, you laid your head down and rested, content in the knowledge that the wood would soon rot and the woodworker's descendants would pay for his trickery.
The next thing you knew, the side of your prison dropped off, and you found yourself unceremoniously deposited on the ground. Not exactly the grand exit you'd hoped for, but it'd have to do. Standing up and brushing yourself off, you cast your eyes about the room.
Except there was no room anymore. Instead, you found yourself facing a landscape - a charred, blasted waste of a landscape. The ground appeared cracked and fragile. Buildings of a design you couldn't possibly recognize crumbled in the distance, a hollow wind blowing chunks of masonry off their exposed innards. A sickly cloud hung over the world, blotting out the sunlight to such a great degree you didn't even notice it was daytime. It was as if some terrible god had strode through the land, casting about righteous vengeance left and right before rising up through the clouds.
You turned about and saw your coffin, charred and half rotted from whatever catastrophe had passed. Whatever harm it had done, it'd at least freed you. Now you could go about seeing to your vengeance, using centuries of accumulated power to...
With a groan you fell to your knees and realized just how *hungry* you were. Revenge could wait, you needed to feed before you withered away. Grunting, you pushed off against the ground, and found yourself not gracefully sailing through the sky as a terrible bat creature, but plummeting to the ground from the remains of whatever building they'd moved you to in the meantime. A cloud of dust rose and slowly fell as you sprawled out across the dirt, several bones broken.
It wouldn't be dignified to die like this. Weak and powerless, defeated by the trickery of a mortal and some disaster you'd missed out on. You clawed for purchase to drag yourself with, but couldn't quite make your fingers work...
Then, against all odds, *they* appeared. You couldn't tell if they were man or woman, given the state their body was in, but they were definitely mortal, and they definitely still had pumping, flowing, coursing blood in their veins. They stared at you with a grey, sunken face, and reached out with a half-broken arm, groaning something you didn't care to understand. Pathetic.
In an instant you were on them, with the supernatural strength you'd been unable to conjure up just seconds before. Your fangs sank deep into their neck and you began to suck, taking in all the lifeforce you could. Something was wrong with the blood - it tasted stale and bitter, and the energy it gave you felt sluggish - but you took all you could. Beggars and choosers and the like. The corpse of a person, now acting the part, slumped to the ground at your feet as you rose again.
It wasn't much. You'd have to remain in human form and not expend any unnecessary energy on your powers, but it was enough to get you to at least the horizon. With any luck, there were other survivors along the way. Perhaps, if the stars aligned just right, you could make it past the ever-present cloud and figure out what happened while you slept. All that in time, though. For now, you started a slow hobble outwards, leaving behind the cursed prison of these last few centuries, and entering the world of the wastes.
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My whole body is in excruciating pain. I'm starving! Out of instinct I turned my head to glance behind me. I see a woman and a child lying behind me lifeless. I approach the woman with this very uneasy feeling. This feeling overcomes me I cannot explain it, tears start to stream down my face. Why? Is my subconscious trying to tell me something? Who is this woman? Why am I crying for her? I turn to see the child and I notice she is still breathing. For a moment I forget about my hunger and rushed over to her. I lift her body as gently as I could; my hunger is so intense it hurts to breathe. My whole being wants to taste her and satiate my urge for blood. She was able to open her eyes for a brief moment. She gave me a brief smile of relief, her hand reaches for my face, she approached my ear and whispered “ Big brother, I knew you would wake up. I know you must be starving... Take me, you are the last hope of our kind.
Sorry if not relevant, I made this up on the spot.
| 2014-10-02T10:42:27 | 2014-10-02T10:40:18 | 92 | 11 |
[WP] You keep getting in trouble at your magic school for practicing dark magic. You also keep trying to tell them that you only practice dark magic because you have a talent for it and you struggle with the other schools of magic, so you are determined to prove that dark magic can be use for good.
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Ms. Auria Whitmore MMag, a master at the Mirarth Academy of Arcane Arts, sighed as a student walked into her office.
Not that she felt any particular dislike for the student, mind you. On the contrary, she felt that Lucian Blackwood was a rather talented young man who could have a bright future ahead of him. That is, if he finally let her talk some sense into him, which Ms. Whitmore was going to attempt – though she suspected the attempt might be futile, like many others before it.
“Take a seat, Mr. Blackwood,” the Academy master said, adjusting her horn-rimmed glasses.
Lucian did so, wordlessly. He looked just as he usually did – brown hair noticeably disheveled, casual tunic and pants worn in place of a formal robe. Not quite how a student of the most ancient a prestigious magical academy in all Vrazania should present himself, in Ms. Whitmore’s opinion. His appearance wasn’t what she was going to discuss with him today, however.
“Mr. Blackwood,” she continued, her voice strict and formal, “as you are no doubt aware, the Period of Determination is almost upon us. Very soon, you will have to make a presentation before the senior masters of our Academy, in order to demonstrate the results of your years of study. I certainly hope that by now you have chosen the topic of your presentation, and that said topic is…” she paused slightly, “adequate.”
“I’ve chosen a topic, ma’am,” Lucian responded.
“And might I know what your topic is?”
The student cleared his throat.
“Non-malevolent applications of the Tenebrous Magics.”
Ms. Whitmore sighed again.
“Mr. Blackwood, I hope you recognize that your choice of topic is most… unorthodox,” the master said sternly. “Or that your very future as a licensed magician depends on the results of your examinations. Choosing the presentation topic is not something to be made light of.”
“Yes, I understand that, ma’am,” Lucian nodded, smiling slightly at the (likely unintended) pun. “But isn’t the entire goal of the presentation to show the magic we are best at? What we’re passionate about the most?”
“It is true, of course,” Ms. Whitmore allowed. “That said, for it to be the dark arts of all things… to be perfectly honest, I do not understand why such magic is not prohibited to begin with, especially for students.”
“The only good is knowledge…” Lucian intoned.
“… And the only evil is ignorance,” his teacher finished automatically. “Still, not to doubt the Founder’s wisdom, but… well, might you not choose any other area of our craft? Evocation, for instance, or Numerology? I know you have shown an aptitude for both that is definitely above average.”
The student shook his head.
“With all due respect, ma’am, I intend to stick to my topic. It’s something I’m truly interested in, and, well… I really do believe these arts can be used for good.”
Ms. Whitmore said nothing for some time, steepling her fingers as she regarded her student.
“Very well,” she said finally. “As your advisor – if only in name – I must warn you that not all masters on the Board might look favourably upon your presentation topic. You will need to demonstrate something truly outstanding, if you are hoping to receive your license this year. Still, if this is your final choice, so be it.”
She allowed herself a slight smile – not that Lucian could have seen it through her steepled fingers.
“Then I wish you good luck at your Determination.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Lucian bowed his head slightly before standing up and leaving her office.
\*\*\*
From a separate table, Ms. Whitmore was observing the ongoing presentations. Although her rank and seniority could have allowed her to sit on the Board, on that day she did not do so – for it were her students who were being evaluated.
To her satisfaction, everything was going smoothly so far. Dressed in their finest robes, refined and polite, the young men and women were the very image of how a student of Mirarth should act and look. The magic they demonstrated was likewise superb – evocationists wove multi-level spells, conjurers created complex structures, summoners called upon elusive spirits…
That was not all, of course – after the Demonstration, came the Disputation, and then finally the Decision – but so far, Ms. Whitmore felt that the examinations were going rather well.
Then Lucian Blackwood walked up to the stage.
Even before he started speaking, Ms. Whitmore felt like covering her eyes with the palm of her hand for a brief moment. To be fair to her student, Lucian did put on the academic robe required for the occasion, and even made some effort to tame his perpetually unruly hair – but still, with the robe draped over his shoulders, worn over the same simple clothes he perpetually wore, his image was not going to win him any favours with the masters of the Board.
“Honoured masters of our most noble Academy!” he began in a loud, clear voice. “I, Lucian Blackwood of Pyrphóros College, upon this Third day of Serpent, do present at your consideration the results of my studies.”
His formal, solemn words hardly matched his casual appearance, but Ms. Whitmore was glad that at least he did not disregard the traditional introduction.
“My chosen topic is the Tenebrous Magics, and how they might be applied in ways other than malevolent.”
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The doors to my tower continued to bang as the magister's men hammered away, I needed to work fast. If I didn't complete my work soon, then all my plans will have been for nothing
Fools! Can't they see their ignorance for what it is? Can't they see that they are so stuck in their ways that they are ruining everything?
The final defences fell, and they began to swarm into my castle. But it was too late, I finished the calculations and pulled the lever. Seven bodies twitched and began to rise from their tables.
"STOP! Lord Grimbolt you are under arrest for the practice of necromancy. You are to turn yourself in to face the judgement of the high overseer."
"For what crimes?" I asked, I knew that I had done no wrong, in fact I had done the impossible. Mankind is not foolish enough to make laws against what they believe impossible."
"For perverse actions against the flesh of the deceased, for the wrongful violations of the spirits put to rest, and for the continued use of blood magic."
"But I am innocent of all changes. I have not redirected the dead, my good sirs,these folks are not zombies..." I placed a hand under the chin of one of my children. "Hello dear, how are you feeling?"
Confused, she looked at me and said "wh...who am I?"
I heard the audible gasps of the magister's men. I pulled her hood back and they could see, her face was not the rotted flesh of a corpse, but was the youthful complexion of a beauty in her 20s.
"Whoever you wish to be, you are the child I never had. The child my wife couldn't give me before her untimely end. You and your siblings are free to be who you wish."
The magister's men stumbled with their words at the miracle I had managed to achieve. No mere mockery of a life once lived, but new life constructed, perfect.
"But... The bodies, where could you have... You must have..."
"Cloned, created from my own body, and a few willing volunteers to make duplicates. A little genetic variation to ensure they weren't exact duplicates."
No violating the dead, in flesh blood or spirit, but the power of necromancy combined with technology to bring me a family all the same.
| 2022-09-14T16:51:06 | 2022-09-14T14:18:11 | 71 | 23 |
[WP] Everyone is born with a natural tattoo of their spirit animal. Every person gets the traits and abilities of their respective animal. But when you were born your father, having a bear tattoo and your mother, bearing a dove tattoo, were horrified. Leviathan.
Edit. Wow thank you to everyone who submitted thie stories here. Never expected it to blow up this much.
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On the day of his birth, Craig Barclay was visited by every wise man within travelling distance. Birth had become rare, Humanity on the brink of extinction. To witness such an event was a treasure. They brought gifts fitting for the family.
His father was born with the mark of the Bear on his back. It was large, indicating that he would heavily resemble his patron animal. He was strong, protective, and cared deeply for food.
His mother was born with the mark of the Dove. It was small, on the back of her hand. Non-threatening and clearly visible. She was kind and had the ability to ease tensions.
They worked as diplomats. She stopped wars. He stopped others from harming her. They were easily recognized. He was massive, covered in thick hair, leaving little visible skin. She was pale in contrast, thin and light of frame.
It was assumed that Craig would have something fitting his family's ancestry. Wolves, for example, almost always bore Wolf marked children. Children of Salmon parents nearly always marks of some Fish.
To think that Craig might have been born marked by the Bear, Dove, or Armadillo seemed logical. Maybe a Badger or a different kind of Bird would be in order. They speculated whether it would be as large as his father's, which would have been the size of an apple on his newborn body. Or small, barely visible on his newborn flesh, like his mother's.
As gifts of wool and food were placed in the room, the midwife pulled Craig free. His first wail in the world brought them all to tears. An aide cleaned his body as his mother finished giving birth.
His parents and guest shared a meal of celebration. In a few short hours, his mark would appear.
The Armadillo marked midwife gifted medicines to the parents and an ointment for the mother. The Mole marked farmer from down the lane gifted them with a bundle filled with dried mushrooms. A Wolf marked hunter provided a new pelt to keep the new babe warm. His grandmother, who was marked by the Hummingbird gifted a bottle of sweet wine to the new parents. Dozens more left food, clothing, tools, and trinkets for the new family.
They cleared away the food and shared stories. Speculation rose again. It was considered good luck to guess what patron would choose a child.
"Your child will bring joy to those around him, with a quick wit, and a fierce laugh. He will be marked by Hyena."
"Nonsense, your child will be daring and carefree, growing up safe under your care. He will be chosen by Squirrel for sure!"
"Wouldn't it be funny if he was chosen by Spider or Fox? A mischievous child would shake things up for you two. You are always so calm and quiet. The change would be nice." Many laughed at this. It was not likely.
"Your father was marked by Jacana." The father's mother spoke up for the first time in a while. Everyone listened. "He was fiercely protective of you children. I believe that bird's protective nature is why you were chosen by Bear. Yet you married a Bird. Maybe your son will be chosen by Jacana as well. He would inherit many traits from you both." Her voice shook slightly as she spoke. The loss of the elder was still recent in everyone's mind.
Nods of assent and murmurs of agreement spread through the group. No one wanted to speak against that.
They sat in polite conversation until a small black line sprouted on the child's right hand. Excitement spread as everyone turned to watch.
A thin tentacle spiraled and grew longer. "An Octopus?" someone offered.
"Too long. A Squid?"
It kept growing. The tentacle stretched the length of his arm. The mark bloomed across his back, they turned him over so all could see. As the mark became a body, more tentacles spread. Dozens of them grew along both arms and legs, around his neck, and around his face.
Everyone became silent. No one had ever seen a mark this large. No one had seen an animal like this. "What... What is it?" His mother asked in a quiet tone.
It was, again, his grandmother who spoke up. The single word slammed into all that heard.
"Leviathan."
His mother burst into tears. His father passed the child to his own mother to comfort his wife. The guests left quickly and quietly.
Everyone came to see what fruit the ambassadors of peace would bear. They came with hope and happiness. They left in despair. No one could have imagined that they would be witnessing the birth of the bringer of death, war, famine, and destruction, an unstoppable soldier with an endless bloodlust. No one would survive his reign unscathed.
All they could hope, is that his parents were strong enough. They had the chance to stop him now, before it was too late.
{Whelp, that turned out a bit differently than I intended, but it works, so I'm keeping it. What do you guys think?}
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Some call it a gift from the Spirit of the Earth or God or whoever is out there. This animal shaped stain on everyone's skin one of which can grant the attributes and behavior of whatever it resembled. My father has the mark of a Wild boar on his back he is stubborn, strong and smart. My Mother has a hawk on her shoulder she can see through anyone and see what kind of people they really are. I thought I was a worm. small, slimy and dirty. Boy was I wrong.
I was always getting teased by kids my age and this has left me bitter and hateful towards people. I was called Slimy Jim the worm guy. I grew to hate despise the system of this world the Predators and the Prey. Those with strong animal marks would always abuse those that are powerless to stop them.
As I was growing up my only friend was a girl called Shelly. Ironically enough she had the mark of a creature called a Nautilus Squid she was reserved and just like me made fun off. We both hated the system but we where powerless to stop them. I was a worm she was a squid what can we do against the Lions, Tigers and Bears of the world.
As the years passed Me and Shelly noticed a change. As our physical bodies grew so did our birthmarks. The worm I originally thought I had was no worm at all. It was a fierce winged serpent and Shelly has a hunched Humanoid with a squid head. We were no worm and squid. We are Leviathan and Cthulhu and we will bring everything down.
| 2017-11-08T05:45:29 | 2017-11-08T05:42:07 | 192 | 11 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
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[**I'm aware that this prompt has been done multiple times, but I only started posting recently and so I'll try to take a stab at it. Hopefully this will be a slightly different flavor.**]
*He doesn't look like much.* That was the first thought in Volair's mind as the human representative, Adam, entered the council room. Most sentient life-forms were bipedal and vaguely humanoid, but the man stood a full three feet shorter than him, boasting none of the survival tools that evolution had bestowed upon the Avelium.
"You're early," Adam observed, bowing in the customary greeting of inter-species diplomats. The brief smile revealed no fangs, no poison...if they were to get into a dispute, nothing would save the small earthling from Volair's wicked claws. And that was empowering.
"I believe you have a saying on your planet," the Avel-born said as they both took seats on opposite sides of the long obsidian table. "Something about the early bird getting the worm?"
Volair watched the translators fastened to the human's visor churn its way through his gruff speech. Earthlings possessed no telepathic abilities either, not like the tentacled Kinu who could grasp the essence of thoughts directly. *This* was the dominant species of their planet?
"I appreciate that," Adam said. "Let's get down to business, shall we? Our United Nations council has discovered that your civilization has been encroaching on intergalactic law in several colonies."
"Lies and slander," Volair sneered. "Every bit of business that we do is sanctioned and legal." Besides, these humans would never retaliate even if that wasn't true, so what was he afraid of?
Adam's posture didn't waver in the slightest. "Treaties exist for a reason. I'm here on behalf of humanity to request that you order a full evacuation of any Avelium government superstructures in the Sigma-Nine sector. Otherwise, we'll do it for you."
Volair was surprised. Although Earth was a relatively new addition to the Galactic Conglomerate, no human diplomat had ever declared war, nor had they ever engaged in any sort of combat. Where was the leverage behind this stark declaration? "Is that a threat?"
The diplomat blinked. "Of course it's a threat. It's not simply a warning. Not all human representatives are the same, General Volair, and while some of my colleagues are soft-spoken, I assure you that it would be wise not to mistake *kindness* for *weakness.*"
It was a bluff. It had to be. Volair simply yawned, flexing his claws in a casual display of strength - the alloy generated by his body was stronger than steel and he knew it could even cleave through human space ships. "You know, I've never seen any humans fight. It would be quite interesting, especially as we are in the advantageous position with troops seeded throughout your colonies."
"I suppose we'll just go our separate ways, then," Adam said. "And allow history to be the judge, jury, and executioner."
Months later, Volair had all but forgotten about the small human. The Avelium diplomat joked about it a few times with his colleagues over lunch and brought it up with his bonded mate while the kids were getting ready for school.
Then it happened. An Avelium native took the life of a human in a zone where Volair's people had no right to be. An ultimatum was given, and ignored. And then he witnessed nightmares come to life.
Technology and weapons whose sole purpose was to lay waste at the planetary level bombarded Avelium positions without remorse. Allies took sides, bisecting and trisecting the Galactic Conglomerate, and the stars weeped for the lost lives.
It wasn't just Volair's species. It was all sympathetic allies as well. The darkness of space lit up with not only explosions, but far more horrific tragedies over the course of mere weeks. Somehow humanity managed to smuggle nanoviruses onto supply ships that caused global pandemics targeting Avelium colonies. They avoided any sort of hand-to-hand or space-based combat, simply destroying anything that came too close with enough firepower to make a neutron star jealous.
And then Volair jerked back into reality. He was back in the negotiation room.
"You've seen the future," Adam said, reclining in the council room chair. "What do you think?"
The Avelium native realized that he was sweating. "What did you do to me?"
The human smiled. "Airborne nanovirus. Think of it as a holographic rendition, a promise for the future if you fight us. You may doubt our physical prowess and our propensity for peace, but there's a reason we survived on Earth and there's a reason we don't want to fight. If you doubt our resolve, just know this."
The human leaned forward across the table, and Volair subconsciously leaned away.
"Those things I showed you? Those were just examples of things we've done to *ourselves*. What do you think we'd be willing to do to another species?"
Volair sat there, long after Adam left, trying to shake the memories of his civilization crumbling under disease and ash. *So that's why they want to avoid war. To avoid becoming the demons they themselves despise*.
Now he knew how Mother Nature had allowed such puny beings to reach beyond the skies.
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Edit: thanks to the kind strangers who generously gave awards, it's truly heartwarming and encouraging. Thanks also to everyone who commented, I can't respond to everything as I need to sleep but I have read every single one and I appreciate all your kind words and feedback greatly~ see you all tomorrow :)
Thanks for reading! Feedback would be greatly appreciated~ Come hang out with me at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/), we'd love to see you around :)
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A Xyvian duelist danced around a Karnate Berserker, blades flashing through the air. Around them, two armies cheered. Behind them, the grand fleets of the two great races fought among the tall, carbon-composite buildings, glass panes shimmering with defensive energies.
What fools. There's no point in defending something that won't be attacked.
The human diplomat, Johannes, attached to the Xyvians watched grimly as the Karnate fleet swept around its upper flank, swinging over a row of buildings at full engine power, firing away at the exposed upper lines. In response, the Xyvian fleet matched the grace of its champion, splitting left and right around the skyline, firing away, pinpoint striking Karnate ground positions. The human, however, was not alone. His colleague at the Karnate embassy was attached to the opposing flagship, on the other side of the battle.
The fighting around the human city had damaged it quite severely. But as both sides wanted to rule the place for its resources and wealth, they avoided obliterating the city completely.
Both diplomats had pleaded in vain for the two sides to stop fighting, to prevent further casualties to all three races. They did so in vain, and in their desperation, they messaged the Galactic High Council's Vault Authority. The latter gave its approval just as the Xyvian duelist slashed open two of the Berserker's forearms.
With a flash, the diplomats disappeared, leaving only a holonote to the two warring race's leaders.
A roar was heard from deep below ground. In an instant, the buildings stopped shimmering. In an instant after, they exploded in a blossom of mushroom clouds, wiping out both armies together.
Every other human city on the world came to life, churning an endless tide of drones and heavy armored vehicles. Skyscrapers rose into the sky, carried by fusion engines, revealing clusters of guns and missiles.
The Xyvian and Karnate fleets detected it then, as they read the message. The vast hordes of human infantry marching over the horizon, systematically obliterating their backend infrastructure and civilian population centers.
"By the authority of the Galactic High Council's Vault Authority, Humanity activates its Total War protocol against the warring states of Xyvia and Karnate. We can no longer tolerate your wanton destruction, and therefore visit extermination upon you. Count your populations, for that shall be the number of graves you will need."
| 2019-11-24T10:35:39 | 2019-11-24T10:06:57 | 5,960 | 1,752 |
[WP] You recently discovered your parents sold your soul to the devil. He came to collect your soul and you are now starting your first day as his personal assistant
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Amidst the pillars of hellfire and sulfur plumes, the piercing screams and intermittent demon bellows, what Rudy missed most of all was his dog, Abby.
Satan caught his wide-eyed stare out the window.
"Quite a view isn't it. What's your name?"
"R-Rudy. Sir."
Under a scarlet suit, Satan's black shirt flared, collar unbuttoned. He sat behind a heavy brimstone desk, stroking his goatee with the barbed end of his tail.
"Rudy. Can I call you Rudes? I need you to help me finish the day's paperwork."
He opened the top drawer and a spire of paper burst to the ceiling, more than what seemed could fit inside the desk. Satan stacked a teetering towerful in Rudy's arms, and Rudy wobbled under its weight. Satan placed the rest on one hand, and took out a cigar with the other. He lit it with a flick of his tail.
"Follow me, Rudes."
He strolled out the office and glanced around. Satisfied, he dumped the stack in a pool of lava. He nodded at Rudy and after a moment's hesitation, Rudy did the same.
"Excellent, Rudes. Now we can get on with the fun stuff."
Despite almost singeing his hair in the resultant eruption, a small grin crept on Rudy's lips.
Satan led them down a steep flight of skull-lined steps into a cavernous expanse. Colossal stone vats glowed ember red in the darkness, hovering over blue flames.
He gestured around the room. "This is the 6th level of Hell. The maintenance level. Abaddon and the guys will show you around, but for now I need you to get these fires bellowed."
Rudy swallowed and nodded.
Satan strolled over to a mountain of rotting corpses and flung a couple into the nearest fire. The flames flashed white and the shrieks above them rang louder in volume and desperation.
He pointed to the ceiling. "You'll learn not to mind them, Rudes. Gotta do what you gotta do to keep the business running." He clapped Rudy on the shoulder and sucked on his cigar.
Rudy thought back to home, a little wooden hut, where his father used to locked him out in the Winters until he came back with the firewood chopped. He wondered if his parents could afford a city dwelling now, with whatever they got for his soul.
"It's not too bad, Mr. Satan," he said in a small voice, "at least its warm in here."
Satan chuckled, fangs glistening in the firelight. "That's the spirit, Rudes. That's the spirit."
\---
After lunch (goose legs and tears of sinners, unsalted), Satan continued the tour.
In an open field, a rotund man sprinted, his face purple, in a never ending track. Behind him a pack of hellhounds snarled and snapped at his feet.
"This is where we exercise the pups," Satan explained.
He whistled and the dogs bolted to his feet. They jumped and yapped as Satan threw them scraps of corpse meat.
"Here Shadow. Here Misery. And you my girl, Wraith," Satan cooed.
Their eyes glowed red and their mangled black fur hung like shaggy shadows. The smallest one, though it still stood tall as Rudy's waist, broke from the pack and sniffed Rudy's newly issued corporate button down.
Rudy ran his hand through its fur. It tingled like hot sparks and icy darkness all at once. The dog licked it and brushed against his thigh.
"She likes you," Satan grinned, "She's a newborn, only a decade old. You can keep her if you name her." He winked and puffed on the cigar his tail held.
Rudy knelt as the dog bounced around him. He thought back to the days in the wooden hut; when he would rub the soft belly of his Great Pyrenees and feed her bacon bits. He thought back to the first time he saw that dog bare her fangs; when she stood between him and his father, haunches low to ground, eyes steeled on the club in his father's hands. He thought back to her whimpers and her blood matted fur as he held her for the last time.
"I'll call you Abby," Rudy whispered.
Satan shrugged. "Not the name I would have gone for myself, but take good care of Abby, Rudes."
r/bobotheturtle
~~I am working on a second part. Need a break sorry.~~ Part 2 is done! See below.
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This is going to be awful. It's the first day and it is so boring. Even though I'm supposed to be off at five o'clock hell time and it's 4:57, the devil handed me a load of paperwork. He said "It's for Friday" which is three days from now and he keeps saying all day that Friday is the final test day for me to earn my soul back and also evidently, get any wish I want. Not sure I want the devil granting me a wish anyways. I mean but "Paperwork? What the hell would the devil need paperwork about me for?" He left the room shouting "Have it done when I get out of the slaughterhouse!" The slaughter house is what they call the bathrooms so I only have five minutes max here. I'm frantically scrolling through the pages knowing I'm screwed. As I get to the end my name was there at the top, a line to sign my name at the bottom, and in the middle is a blank line out of 50 with the word ASSASSINATIONS in bold caps next to it. The devil's going to have me attempt to assassinate not just one person, but 50 of them, in hell.
| 2020-04-05T05:01:22 | 2020-04-05T03:55:56 | 2,020 | 94 |
[WP] Earth has made contact with an alien race. There is a big event where earth's world leaders are meeting the alien queen publicly. You are in the crowd to watch the historical event. When the queen suddenly spots you, she disregards all protocol, comes to you and bows deeply.
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There were dozens of people. Washington DC was packed to the brim for this event. Presidential inaugurations had a fraction of today's turnout, and traffic was a catastrophe getting here. I was in the middle of a group of what felt like millions of people, and for all I knew, I was. For all the noise that could typically be made with such a massive number of people, it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been.
People were waiting for an alien monarch to meet with the U.S. President. Allegedly, this alien queen was meeting the world leaders separately in front of large crowds as a show of good faith to the people of these countries, and there were very few leaders who turned her down.
"Ladies and gentlemen," an announcer began. Nobody could hear anything else as the crowd's excitement exploded and drowned him out.
Suddenly, a strange figure exited Capitol Hill. It was impossible to make out their appearance. The figure was clearly taller than any person. Televisions that were visible made it out to be between seven and eight feet tall. Then they zoomed in on her face. This was the alien queen. She was tall and pale, though her lack of legs made her height difficult to judge. She looked almost like a cross between a snake and a person. Her appearance was very similar that of a naga. She was very humanoid in her upper body, save for the scales in places. Her lower body was almost purely that of a snake, the only exception i could see were some frills nearer to her lower back. Her scales were almost piercingly white. It was almost painful to look at her through the screen.
As I turned my attention to her in-person, she was shaking the hands of the president, and as she approached the microphone to do her speech for the crowd, she eyes over us before locking eyes with me. Her expression completely shifts. The frills on her back and tail flare up, she motions to what looks like her own kind of secret service and points in my direction. They nod and disappear. She whispers to the president and he seems to nod understandingly, though his expression was one of confusion.
The president steps up to the podium and says, "Apologies, everybody. She will be making her speech shortly, but it seems a small matter has come up." People start shuffling, with some outcry. Most people figured that they've waited this long, they can wait just a bit longer.
I suddenly have a very bad feeling. I couldn't shake this feeling that she was motioning to me specifically. I could almost feel her stare as I began to shake. Suddenly there were some cries from the front of the crowd. The other aliens she had motioned to were clearing a path for her through the crowd. Her eyes never left me, and I couldn't seem to move. Soon, she was right in front of me, her two guards were massive compared to her, and she was already large compared to the average person. I thought I had done something that had offended her, but then she did the unthinkable, and bowed before me, along with her two guards. Something about the way that their bodies would stay balanced despite the humanoid parts of their bodies being bent ninety degrees shocked me.
I was so overcome with shock that I dropped to my knees, and began to bow even deeper. I didn't understand what was going on but I certainly wasn't going to be seen as disrespectful. I did not want to be the guy who got Earth into an intergalactic war because some snake lady wanted to test some random guy in the crowd.
"Why do you bow, son of Zeus?" I heard from the queen. I had never heard her voice before, but there was no mistaking it. If her otherworldly accent didn't give her away, it was very clear that she had the voice of a commander. The guards at her flanks looked at me quizzically.
"W-what?" I stammered. The queen's eyes widened. Her pupils expanded like a cat that's spotted prey, and she started saying something to herself in another language. She motioned for her two guards. They slithered forward to grab me. I panicked, but I couldn't scream. They lifted me up by my arms, with each of them grabbing one. The queen pulled out a round little device and threw it to the ground. In a flash of white, I was transported to a strange looking room.
I panicked, I started kicking and thrashing to get these massive beasts to let go of me. I started shouting and screaming for them to let me go. I was dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and began to look around for any sort of exit.
I saw what looked like a rounded hallway and began to bolt towards it. Before I could make it out an energy barrier appeared in what appeared to be the doorframe to the hallway. I stopped and turned to face my abductors. They looked more confused than anything else. As though they couldn't understand why I was so terrified.
"Would you like to know why you're here, or are you going to keep screaming?" the queen asked rather calmly.
My heart was still racing. I couldn't see any sort of escape, as there only seemed to be one way out of the room, and the two pillars that flanked what looked like a throne in the center of the room didn't seem to have any other use. I nodded slowly.
"We've been looking for you. Rather, we've been looking for any of you. You are the descendant of Zeus." I gave her a blank stare. I believed in no gods, and followed no faith. Zeus was a far cry from even having a proper religion these days, let alone any churches or active worshipers.
"We need you to help us. Are you ready to help?" she asked.
"I don't even know what you need!" I yelled back. She pursed her lips and gave a slight frown.
"Do you not think it strange that we look so similar, you and I?" I didn't have a clue what she was talking about. As far as I could tell, I wasn't part snake.
"We were once like you. Once, a very long time ago." She looked off into nothing. "Once, we may have been considered beautiful."
"But what do you need me for? I have no idea what you're talking about. What do you mean with 'Son of Zeus'?" I shot of questions rapid-fire. It was clear she didn't want to kill me, or I'd already be pushing up daisies. Did she want to harm me, and if so why wasn't I tied up somewhere?
"Have you heard the legend of Queen Lamia?" she asked me. I had never heard the name before. All my mythology knowledge came from fiction, and I had no idea what parts were accurate or not.
"Queen Lamia was one of Zeus' mistresses. Hera, his ever jealous wife, cursed Queen Lamia to have the body of a snake. We mean to take our revenge." She explained all of this calmly. She sounded like the teacher of a rowdy classroom that rarely stayed quiet for long. "Now if you'd like to discuss business, please accompany me to the dining room." I followed her, wondering what would happen next.
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I sat back in the crowd of of millions upon of millions of people, awaiting the alien queens arrival. Some people gleamed in excitement, while others quelled in fear. Me? I was pretty indifferent about these aliens coming to visit our planet for the first time, and I don’t care care if they enslave us, or if they welcome us into some sort of intergalactic federation or whatever. The worlds top political leaders all stood front and center in this rural field located in the panhandle region of Oklahoma. I found it funny, in a way, because instead of choosing a major global center of culture, technology, and economic development like New York, London, Paris, Moscow, Shanghai, or Tokyo, the aliens had chosen this insignificant field in Oklahoma located near the insignificant little town that I lived in.
“Look, it’s the alien ship!” Someone shouted.
The crowd erupted into a frenzy, with some cheering, and some fearing the absolute worst. I just watched and carefully observed the ship descending onto the field. It was a large ship, larger than anything I had ever seen before. The Alien queen came out of her ship, and observed the scene. Then she locked her eyes on me. She made her way through the sea of people and up to me. I figured this was it, and she would use me as a sacrificial lamb for the eventual alien takeover of our world. But what she did next stunned me. She bowed deeply before me. The leader of the most powerful and advanced civilization in the entire universe, bowing down to me, a 18 year old from Liberal, Kansas working a dead end job delivering pizzas for Pizza Hut. She gave a simple hand gesture to me signaling to follow her, and I followed her lead. We entered the elaborate spaceship, and flew away into space. We sat there in awkward silence for a moment, before I decided to start asking questions.
“Where are taking me?”I asked. About another minute passed by before she broke her silence.
“Well, I saw you out in the crowd, and I immediately knew you were the perfect match for me,” she responded in fluent English.
“I’m sorry, what are you talking about? I have no idea what’s going on here.”
“Well, every queen needs her king, right? Think about it Michael, you can leave behind your miserable life on Earth of delivering pizzas and being alone, and all you have to is agree to be with me.”
“Ho-How do you know my name?” I asked back quietly.
“Come on, I’m the leader of the most powerful and intelligent civilization in the universe. I can read minds and travel across the entire universe in the span of a couple days for crying out loud!”
“All I do is deliver pizzas working for minimum wage, live alone, and my depression just keeps getting worse and worse.”
“Well, not for long. But before all that, I want to ask you one important question: Why do you think I took you from your planet to be with me?”
I thought long and hard about this question. Why would the queen of the universe want to marry a 18 year old pizza delivery driver from Earth. It didn’t add up. I looked around the luxurious and lavish interior thinking long and hard about this one, but no answers popped up in my head. “Um, I don’t know. Why did you?”
”Well, I’m not exactly sure why I did either. Something just pulled me towards you, and I went with my instincts. I’m only 18 myself, and just became queen last month after my father died unexpectedly. I’m going to need some help being leader of the universe, and I guess you could help me with that.”
“I don’t know the first thing about leadership,” I responded. I was very surprised that she would trust me with this monumental task.
“I don’t really know that much about it either, but I guess it’ll be a learning experience, for the both of us.”
____________________________________________________
**Thanks for reading this! I would love some feedback, and definitely tell me what I need to improve on as a writer. This is only my 4th or 5th submission here, so that would be much appreciated!**
| 2018-12-05T18:56:09 | 2018-12-05T18:06:46 | 95 | 35 |
[WP] You are a superhero who works tirelessly for an ungrateful city. One day after another long day you get a knock at your door. It is the city's supervillain and he brought a bottle for you two to share.
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*How can you sit there and say that she isn’t a disastrous addition to the city?*
*She’s saved countless lives on numerous occasions!*
*Lives that wouldn’t have been in jeopardy if these ‘super villains’ as we’ve taken to calling them, weren’t inspired by the likes of heros playing god! Especially not heros like Solar Flare who do more harm to the city than even the villains do!*
The large CRT television clicks off with a waning hum.
“I don’t mean to cause so much damage.” She says into the quiet air of her small apartment. “Why won’t they see that I only want to help? I’m just new at this is all.”
A quiet knock interrupts her ruminations.
A smile plays at her lips as she walks towards the door. No doubt her freinds or her sister, always there to cheer her up after miserably unsuccessful days at hero-ing.
“Hey, you’re just in-“ her breath catches mid sentence as she swings the door open. Silhouetted by the harsh light of the dingy hallway stood the last person she had expected to see, her latest nemesis.
“Sage.” Said the hero tersely.
“Solar Flare.” Replied the villain. “Or is it Zoe in those clothes?”
Anger turned to surprise and took on fury as the hero’s secret identity left Sage’s lips.
“Come for a rematch?” Zoe began to hover above the carpeted floor as flickering yellow light surrounded balled fists.
“If I wanted to fight you, I wouldn’t have knocked.” Sage deadpanned.
The hero thought for a moment before lowering her arms and touching down once again. “Then why are you here?”
Sage clenched her jaw and looked towards her feet. Slowly, an arm Zoe hadn’t realized was hidden made its way from around Sage’s back.
“I wanted to talk.” Sage said quietly, proffering a bottle of wine.
And that’s how Zoe, alias Solar Flare, found herself talking with a woman she was punching only several hours previously. Around a bottle of cheap wine, to boot.
“You aren’t a villain?” Zoe asks from her position leaned against the countertop.
“No. Look this is going to be hard to believe.” Sage replies, seated in the only chair in the messy kitchen.
Between them on the table sits a cracked open bottle of cheap chardonnay. They’re already a glass down, and conversation now flows similarly.
“I’ll decide that. Explain.”
“I’m a hero, like you, only I’m not freelance. I’m part of the Guild.”
“The Guild?” Zoe scoffs.
“See, hard to believe.”
“Then make me beleive.”
“I’m undercover. I’m a brand new addition to the Guild, and oftentimes newbies like me are used to infiltrate.”
“That... that almost sounds believable. But why send someone brand new to the Guild on such a dangerous mission?”
“We have no prior connection to the Guild, and most of us are too local to have caught national attention. Maybe rumors and the occasional hit piece, but no footage.”
“Okay. And if by chance I do believe you, why are you telling me all of this? Why risk blowing your cover?”
Sage bites her lip in thought, taking a moment to ponder her response.
“I saw you fighting. I saw how you worked out there. The care you took with protecting people. And I saw how the media protrays you. How they turn on you.”
“And what, you want to give me some motivational speech? Or is this a recruitment into the whole ‘the world is against me’ villain thing?”
“Zoe, please. I think we can help eachother.”
“Help eachother?” Zoe asks hopefully.
Sage smiles. “So you do believe me?”
“Never said I didn’t.” Said the hero slyly. “But how can I help you? Or you me?”
“Become my arch nemesis.”
“Your what?”
“My main hero! Every villain has a hero they go up against the most, or one they hate or that hates them. Become mine.”
“How on God’s green Earth does that help either of us?”
“Think about it!” Sage exclaims excitedly, spilling drops of wine as she gestures with her hands. “I wouldn’t have to pull my punches or discreetly protect people if you were always there. In the eyes of my target, I’ll be even more credible.”
“Okay, that actually makes some sort of sense. But how does it help me?”
“If I start doing more damage, and you start stopping me, the city will come to love you. You can train with me, show off your abilities and protect the citizens.”
Zoe stared at the glass of wine held loosely in her hand. Maybe the alcahol was sneaking up on her, or perhaps her drive to be accepted was simply stronger than her better judgement. “I’m in.”
“Awesome! I think we-“
“But I have ground rules.”
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I grumble
“The he’ll do you want” There he was Leviathan he laughs
“The city’s being ungrateful I just got my ass beaten by my group it’s better to share a drink with a rival than a friend”
I smirk but then stop
“Come on in”
I go searching my cabinets for a bottle opener after I find one I go to sit across from him with wine glasses He chuckles at me
“Had a bad day?”
I grumbled again he leans in “What?”I push him gently away from me
“one of your buddies was about to murder a orphanage and when I saved them they are like We CoUlD oF dOnE tHaT oUrSeLvEs and I left” Leviathan looked at me sighing
“I was kicked out of the group because I’m more popular and would be better on my own”I look at him with a smile
“You not too bad”I sip a bit of the champagne he brought after a hour or two I’m tipsy and he’s somewhat drunk I laugh
“Your drunk man”He smile’s
“C-Can I spend the night here -hic-“
I smile
“Only if you don’t leave in the middle of the night and do something bad”
I slur the word bad sounds look boat he chose to sleep in the living room as I get in my bed I only wish he sleep on the floor in mine
The end-
| 2021-04-10T08:42:24 | 2021-04-10T07:20:36 | 92 | 19 |
[WP] The real reason witches want first-born kids for their services is to protect those children from the parents greedy enough to accept in the first place.
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A hollow, clacking sound emanated from the wood of my front door. I could feel it, deep inside; this day would be rough. Tucking a little glowing vial into my pocket, I answered the call.
And, sure enough, it was as I feared.
"You're part of the Wicked Coven, yes?" a woman asked curtly, her tone like a slap to the face. Most people as 'normal' and conceited as her spoke to me that way, even her towering nest of perfumed hair looking down on me. In front of her, in an iron grip, was a little girl with auburn locks and bright brown eyes. A man, presumably her husband, stood further back, darkened and staring off into the twisting blue-green jungle of my little slice of forest.
"Indeed, deary. What is it you need of me?" I put the typical rasp and evil into my voice.
"The going rate for firstborn children. What is yours?"
I sighed, closing my eyes, regaining composure, then smirked. "For a weak little thing like that? Two bottles of any potion you'd like."
"We don't want a blasted potion of yours, witch!" the man shouted, still not facing us. "Black magic!"
The woman seem unconvinced, so I pressed, "Why come here if not for what I have to offer? Slavers have money, but those of the Coven offer things money won't buy you elsewhere."
She pushed the crying little girl forward. "One bottle of healing elixir," she whispered, leaning closer. "And one bottle of your strongest love potion."
I eyed her, glancing to the man as she shuffled with discomfort. "One moment."
Returning with her request, I traded them for the girl, who she pushed forward into me. "Enjoy your meal, witch," she hissed, more disgusted by my supposed habit than the fact she'd sold her child as food.
Shutting the door, I steadied a trembling hand and wavering lip, one deep inhale and a lengthy exhale. Then, crouching next to the girl, I cupped her face.
"Are you going to eat me?" she asked, with a disturbing lack of fear.
"No, dear girl. I won't eat you. What's your name?"
"Sia. So you're not gonna eat me?" She looked at me with furrowed brows.
"Witches don't eat people, Sia. We help them."
"What do you mean?"
I led her further in, sitting her at a gnurled oak table, fetching her some water. "The Wicked Coven is not a place for monsters to gather, Sia. It is a safe-haven for children, and a place where women can find purpose in a world owned by men."
The girl sniffled. "You should just eat me."
"Now, why would you say such a horrible thing? You mustn't think that way."
She paused for a bit, then cracked like an egg, all her gooey emotions spilling out onto the table.
"Why didn't she want me?" Sia asked, her face a slick mess of tears and snot, violent inhales stuttering between jagged sobs. "What did I do wrong?"
"No, no, no. You did *nothing* wrong."
I held out a hand, offering her little vial with a bright cyan firebug trapped inside. It shone brightly enough to melt away all things cold and dark, turning the sickness on her face a bright blue. As she clutched it, it was almost like the blue blazed a little bolder, a brilliant star in her palms. My eyebrows raised a little, but I pushed the discovery aside.
"Some people in this world, sweet thing, are cruel and undeserving of the beauty this world has to offer. It will be hard for you to understand, and it will always eat at you, I'm sure.
"But whenever you think of them, and how sad it makes you, I want you to look at this little bug. It is trapped, like you are right now, shining so brightly but unable to break loose. One day, you need to shatter the glass walls around you. When you do, let this little bug go.
"And be free together."
She clutched the vial, eyes even brighter as they sucked in its glow, and smiled for the first time since I'd gotten her.
It was a good start. Nothing can stop rain from pouring down; all you can do is offer an umbrella to stand under until the sun comes out once more.
"Now," I said, taking her by the hand, a sly smile sprawling across my face. "How would you like to learn a little magic?"
-----
part two below!
[final part here :)](https://www.reddit.com/r/resonatingfury/comments/bc5lp7/wp_the_real_reason_witches_want_firstborn_kids/)
*/r/resonatingfury*
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"Shhh. All will be well, child." she whispered, slowly bobbing up and down.
As she turned away, the man snarled.
"Where is it?! Fulfill our bargain, wench."
"It was delivered the moment you placed the child in my arms, my lord." She gestured to the rock on her left. "See for yourself."
Lord Baylor approached and wiggled his torso, as if he were trying to settle in to a comfortable chair.
The rock was twice the size of his head, and would have been very difficult to lift, but something felt different when he placed his right hand on the stone. It wasn't soft, per se, but flimsy.
She heard an astonishing series of cracks, reverberating through the cave as if lightning was crackling across the ceiling.
Glancing back, she witnessed his hands clasped, a mound of pebbles and shards piled underneath.
Through his grin, he declared "I will soon put this to *very* good use."
"Remember," she retorted, "the more you use, the more it takes."
"You speak as if it is a curse. No, my humanity is the curse, and with this tool I now possess, I will eventually free myself from its shackles."
She turned and walked away, still bouncing, like a ship travelling on a calm sea. As she disappeared into the darkness of the cave, Baylor heard her whisper to the bundle in her arms, "You are the one. And so we begin..."
| 2019-04-11T05:56:20 | 2019-04-11T04:16:09 | 387 | 107 |
[WP] whenever a baby is born the parents can assign them their skill points, everyone has 10 points. Strength, agility, intelligence, charm, luck, constitution, special. No one really knows what special does, until your parents put all 10 points into it
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The origins of the system were Chinese; thats the one thing people could confirm. The ability to edit your child at a fundamental level before birth started there; and rapidly spread to the rest of the world. Nobody was quite sure who had made it; or in what lab; but the results were consistent. Spectacular even. The children born using the system ended up breaking all the olympic records, inventing perfectly efficient launch systems for spacecraft, curing cancer, and became soldiers no unaltered human could stand against. The difference between normal and unaugmented children was so vast it was illegal not to augment them, and so, each generation was custom-tailored by their parents to be their own vision of the ideal human.
&#x200B;
One question that had bugged many people was exactly what this 'Special' trait was. Even the most brilliant person alive couldn't figure it out; it was some sort of intrinsic trait, yes. But once it was determined that a high enough Constitution would allow you to live just about forever, all of the other traits fell by the wayside; and short-lived, brilliant, charismatic people ruled a world full of, relatively, dull immortals, who watched the handful of super-athletes on television and consumed their name-brand products.
&#x200B;
My parents were, frankly, lunatics. An incredibly rare thing in a world where even being below what was once average was freakish. They didn't want any augmentation for me at all; but rather than going the more common route of going into hiding or avoiding the government, to let me be born normal, they just threw it all into the one slot nobody knew what did; Special. Plenty of people had a point or two, though it had never amounted to anything. And for me, it wasn't -too- bad.
&#x200B;
All this focus on living forever meant that, while I wasn't the toughest person in my class, I was honestly just average at most things. Nobody admitted it, but the people who put points in intelligence automatically got into different schools, as did the ones with high strength, or agility; the normal schools were for people whose parents didn't want that; just wanted someone who would live a long, long time; hopefully happy. I was a little upset, knowing that I would probably die at ninety or a hundred; medical science had come a long way; while these custom-tailored people surrounding me would still be talking about 'that short-lived nobody' when they turned 300. Well, maybe 'a little' was an understatement.
&#x200B;
The day I graduated from highschool with utterly unremarkable grades, I was still stuck with my parents. Any decent job required either a truly exceptional individual; or decades of experience. Most people didn't get past 'entry level' until they were in their sixties, and every world leader was some blend of high intelligence, charisma, and luck. None of the basic labor jobs even needed to be done anymore; super-geniuses had built machines to handle all that. It wasn't abnormal; with centuries of life ahead of them, often people took decades to move out. I didn't have that time, however; and my parents, of course, were lunatics.
&#x200B;
Life was easy. It'd been designed that way, with everything measured and accounted for. Public transit was clean, efficient, safe. Manufacturing ran like a clean, well-oiled machine. People like myself, without anything to offer, could still get food, clothing, and live without worrying about things. I was set on living a long, dull, incredibly boring life.
&#x200B;
Until it happened. Luck was a well-understood trait in terms of its benefits, if not its effects. A highly lucky person would win at cards, win at gambling, win at life; Vegas no longer ran the way it used to, since their attempts to screen 'Lucky' people at the door inevitably broke down for some lucky man; the only ones still running had high-luck individuals as the owners. Some unknown joe with a high Luck score had stepped out into traffic; and it seemed the laws of the universe bent around him. As he walked across the street, some people saw him and swerved, some had already decided randomly to take a different route... and one bus popped a tire, forcing it to swerve and miss him even though the driver hadn't seen him. Right towards me, with my abysmal luck score.
&#x200B;
It should've hit me. One moment it was bearing down on me, and I was about to be so much squished teen-cake. The next... I was over it. I had leapt a clean thirty feet straight up, kicking off so hard I'd left cracks in the concrete, and was hanging off a window ledge. That incredibly lucky bastard stopped right there in the middle of the road, looking up at me.
&#x200B;
"Oh, hey! I was looking for someone to help me out with a new business I was gonna run, so I did what I usually do, and just walked out and talked to the first person who really attracted my attention. We're going to be doing a little exploring 'out there' and I need the perfect man to lead the show." He seemed oblivious. A mostly average, if somewhat inept, individual, he undoubtedly had almost all of his points in Luck.
&#x200B;
And I'd just realized what I'd done. In the moment, when I absolutely needed it to save my life, I'd manifested a much, much higher strength.. and probably Agility... than any normal human. It wasn't luck. Luck would be the damn bus missing me. I felt like some sort of comic-book superhero. As I gently worked my way down from window to window, dropping to the ground, I started to get a better grasp of just what I'd done; and what I could do. It seemed just focusing on wanting to know how this worked made me smart enough to understand it; it would never be long-term, or permanent. But I could focus and bring anything about myself up to a much higher level... temporarily.
&#x200B;
Mr. Lucky was still there, oblivious, in the street, waiting for a response. And my life was about to get substantially less boring.
|
“If you’re strong you can force your way on most things. if you’re agile you can avoid almost anything. Intelligence equips you with know how to overcome challenging situations. Charm? It opens many doors. You can outlast anything with enough constitution and to be special is to be one of a kind. Being lucky however...”
It was a string of good luck that enabled Ben to live the life he’s always dreamed of. To own his own business at so young, to have it thrive despite unfavorable conditions and to manage it with the resources afforded to him is nothing short of miraculous. People have always wondered how someone so unremarkable could accomplish so much. Ben was a walking enigma.
From a distance he looked like an overgrown boy, and about as strong as one. His movements, both physical and mental could be accurately described as glacial. He was constantly sick, barely clinging on the side of health to be considered alive and his effect on others could also be described as sickening. A truly unremarkable, slightly unnerving childlike adult is how you could encompass almost all that Ben was. The rest would be the owner of the most successful Paper company in the digital age.
More likely to eat paper rather than sell it, Ben has somehow managed to earn his fortune selling it in a world that has almost no need for it. It is a dying industry, with the internet replacing letters, news and books while plastic and other materials replacing paper as a medium to wrap anything in. Smart men left the paper business long ago. Ben loved it so much he doubled down on it. The same smart men counted what little pennies they had, Ben couldn’t spend a fraction of his fortune in a hundred human lifetimes.
How could this possibly be? How did the impossible become possible? Disaster you could say, and lots of it are Ben’s best friend.
Unnatural weather patterns and the scarcity of fossil fuels caused havok around the world as electricity became harder and harder to produce. If it was available it become prohibitively expensive, with 10’s of millions of people unable to power anything. Correspondence the old fashioned way become in vogue. People wrote more letters, published more books and the news came in rolls on people’s doorsteps. The unlikelihood of the entire world going back in time almost 200 years became reality. For a man living out of his time, Ben somehow cornered a market when there wasn’t one. It was as if fate itself intervened... and it made him a rich man.
“Being lucky enables you to be anything and everything. You only need to be there. The world takes care of the rest” Ben’s dad once told him as he learned that his parents gambled his entire life on being lucky, literally investing all the points he had on only one thing. And boy did it pay off.
| 2020-10-03T06:21:28 | 2020-10-03T03:25:57 | 645 | 82 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
Peace. It was something that humanity was well known for. Since making contact with the galactic council and becoming it’s 7th member we had garnered a reputation as the best diplomats in the galaxy. It was often said that human could negotiate its way out of anything.
Not all the council members shared our peaceful ways however, especially the Insidi. They were a warrior race. Nothing meant more to them than honourable combat, and it was how they settled all their disputes. They looked at us and saw a weak, spineless race that talked so much because we couldn’t do anything else. They figured they could make any demand they wanted and we would accept.
We didn’t want to admit it, but deep down we all knew that war was inevitable. We all knew that our efforts were futile, and yet we did our best. We tried so hard to talk them down, but they were stubborn. They demanded our complete submission, and we knew that they wouldn’t back down.
The final council meeting was just a formality; we all knew that we were going to war. We didn’t send a diplomat, there was no point. The person present at this meeting wouldn’t be making any deals, they would be starting a war.
The person given this unenviable task was Grand Commander and Chief Rebecca Gregory Julianous, the woman in charge of the United Human Confederation’s military. She had been a soldier since the last of humanities wars, and she had lost most of her body in the process. As such her mechanical legs carried her through the galactic council’s headquarters. Many aliens had never seen a human soldier before, and Julianous received many curious looks as she entered the council chambers.
The Insidi delegate was surprised, he hadn’t expected a military officer. Had he been wiser, he might have realised something was amiss, but he was arrogant and proud. This was the moment of his victory after all. Once Julianous was seated, he spoke.
“So, human, I take it you have come to give in to our demands.” He said, a smug smile on what the Insidi had instead of lips.
“I’m afraid not.” Julianous replied.
A stunned silence filled the room.
“What?” The Insidi delegate said, his smile replied with a look of surprise.
“The Untied Human Confederation will not meet your demands. We will instead be making a counter offer.” Julianous said. Her face was cold and stoic, however, those more familiar with human emotion noticed an undercurrent of sadness.
“A counter offer? Is this some human joke?” The Insidi delegate scoffed.
“No. You will rescind all your demands, or you will leave us no choice but to go to war.” Julianous said, her tone grave.
The Insidi delegate laughed, he simply couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The spineless little humans where challenging them, the glorious Insidi.
“Well then human, we are at war. We shall engage you in glorious combat.” He said.
“Are you sure? Believe me, this is not something you want to do. We humans hate war for a reason. Please, don’t make us do this.” Julianous said. She knew better than anyone what happened when humans went to war, she’d been there for the last one.
“I am very sure. You pitiful little human. We, the Insidi Empire, herby formally declare war against you, the United Human Confederation.” The Insidi delegate said, savouring every word.
Julianous shook her head sadly, and stood up slowly.
“So be it.” She said, as she turned to leave.
Before she reached the door of the council chambers, she turned back for a moment, the sadness on her face much more pronounced now.
“I’m sorry.” She said, before exiting the chamber.
The Insidi believed in honourable combat. They fought their wars in a traditional manner, as did the rest of the galactic council. They fought soldier to soldier, warship to warship. They fought with honour, for glory and prestige.
The assumed their war with us would be the same, they assumed wrong. They sent their main battle fleet straight to our capital world. Six thousand ships approached our core worlds. We had less than a hundred facing them. They laughed as they saw our numbers.
They didn’t laugh for long. Our ships engaged immediately, each one firing a single torpedo. The Insidi detected these torpedoes, and simply activated their shields, scoffing at our seemingly puny attempts to fight back. Then the torpedoes activated warp speed.
When an object travelling at warp speed collides with another, it produces an unimaginable amount of energy. The Insidi’s shields were hopelessly, pathetically under-powered. When the torpedoes hit them their entire fleet was reduced to dust in less than nanosecond. Six thousand ships, hundreds of thousands of Insidi personal, all gone in less than the blink of an eye.
Shortly afterwards, human warships had appeared above every Insidi world simultaneously. Each one was carrying a full arsenal of what would come to be known as Silencer Torpedoes, the same weapons that had obliterated the Insidi fleet. These warships fired their torpedoes, and within moments, every Insidi arms factory, every shipyard, every barracks, every military academy, and anything else that contributed to the Insidi war machine was gone.
Billions of Insidi died, and their once great and proud empire was reduced to ruins. The Insidi had spent centuries building their empire, and it had taken the humans less than a day to tear it all down.
The next day, Julianous entered the council chambers again. The atmosphere was not one of curiosity. This time, there was an atmosphere of fear.
“You fight without honour! Without courage! You snivelling, spineless coward!” The Insidi delegate screamed as soon as she entered.
Julianous calmly looked over at the Insidi delegate. He would have been crying if he had tear glands. Then she raised her hand, and everything feel silent.
“You’re right. We don’t fight with honour. We have fought countless wars. Millennia of tiny, squabbling states, three world wars, and two colonial reunification wars.” Julianous began, her voice was calm, but the undercurrent of sadness was there as it had been before.
“That last war was so destructive that we can’t live on our home world anymore. Our capital is not our home, because our home is uninhabitable, cratered wasteland.” She continued, the tone of her voice more overtly sad now.
“All these wars taught us a lesson. One very important lesson. One lesson that we have never forgotten, and will never forget. Would you like to know what it was honourable members of the council? She asked the council, a large frown on her lips.
“What… what was it?” A member of the council timidly replied.
“That honour doesn’t win wars.” Julianous said.
|
(English is not my first language, sorry if some mistakes are hidding in the text)
\--
&#x200B;
Humans...
&#x200B;
They spread everywhere in less than one of their generation, their oldest ones were already born when they finally managed to get out of their solar system !
Sure thing, they are good at bargaining and negociating, and their trade flourished at a speed no other specie had ever imagined before. Following something they called the "Roman system", they secured roads to the main marketplaces and made sure to be present everytime there was something to buy or sell, and it wasn't long until they were the ones controlling the prices.
They are rich now, but they never fight. They buy their protection from our own money, that they stole from us !
This will change soon now, they crossed a line when they bought our planet.
We took our time to prepare, our weapons are ready, we will attack their next shipment, and use the gold to buy back our main planet. The Galactic Alliance received our claim and will not help us, as we were not attacked, but they at least accepted to close their eyes and stay neutral in the conflict to come.
&#x200B;
\--
&#x200B;
3 days later, in the galactic alliance.
"Sir, the human delegate is asking to meet you."
"Let him in, let him in ! He always have some good propositions for us, i really like their quotes 'win/win scenario' ! "
John Johnson entered, looking unexpectedly tired but his eyes moving everywhere, from the doors to the different people present in the room, as if assessing something.
"Welcome dear guest, did you have a new idea to bring the alliance prosperity ?"
"I am sorry, dear Head of the Galactic Alliance, I only came today with a question, but I am obviously willing to pay for an answer if needed." answered the human gravely
"Don't worry about that, dear John, you provided us so much lately, we can answer at least a small question !"
"Good. Then let's get to the point. We were attacked by the lizard Ctul."
"Ah, yes, i heard about that unfortunate evenement. 2 of your kind were killed in the raid of one of your merchandise tube on 'new road 66', isn't it ? Truly unfortunate indeed ! but what is your question ?"
John locked his gaze on the vaguely humanoid creature in front of him : "Except from the Ctul, who knew about the attack ?"
"Everyone of the Galactif Alliance knew, as the Alliance was paid the standard amount for a minor agression claim on the official journal by the Ctul. This is the protocol !"
"Ah, too bad, i was beggining to like you".
"What ?"
"Good bye, dear Head of the Galactic Alliance, i have a war to win"
"A war? b-but you haven't published anything on the official journal!"
a beam halo surrounded the human for less than a second, and he was gone. During this time, the Head of the Galactic Alliance heard two words, spoken with a robotic voice, that sent a chill down his spine.
&#x200B;
"TARGET AQUIRED"
&#x200B;
Then the sirens started shouting.
| 2019-04-19T16:35:48 | 2019-04-19T02:24:03 | 25 | 16 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all!
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We swore an oath the day we put on the black armor, an oath of fealty to serve our king till our very last breath. We swore an oath the day we knelt before our king, forsaking our past lives, homes and families, to protect our king till our last days. We swore an oath, one that relinquished every right or claim we had, in unyielding servitude to our king. Or so we thought before we were dismissed by the young prince who ascended to the throne.
I stood in the royal hall as the prince, sorry king, walked away with his new Black Guard. I looked upon the throne for one last time as I planned to depart the kingdom. Just then I saw the royal Sword of Halthgar glowing on the throne. This ceremonial sword was an heirloom passed along the lineage of the royal line, that only the true king could wield in his hands. It was customarily placed beside the throne to signify that only a royal could be seated on it. I was stunned as I saw a flash of light emiting from the sword. I had seen something like this once before, sixteen years ago, when I swore the oath to take the black.
Joining the Black Guard was the highest honor in the kingdom. Men of noble and wealthy houses even sent their sons, ones that were far from the line of succession, to serve as royal guards. It was an esteemed honor to have one's house represented in defending the king. But once they swore the oath these men were not men of these houses any more, but brothers in black. My fate was dissimilar to my brothers however. I was not sent by my father to grant honor to his house. In fact, I did not even know my father at all.
Thirty years ago the kingdom was in a time of strife, and war ravaged within. Houses rose in rebellion against their king, brothers fought brothers, sons fought their fathers. Men had to choose between fealty to their houses or their king. Many had died, my parents were among those that perished. I was merely a child who could barely remember the horrors of war. I could not even remember who my parents were, nor of their idenities. All I remember was being found in a burning home by men clad in black armor. They took me to a warm man, the man I would eventually call my king.
He raised me in his own home for a big part of my life until I was fourteen. Up till this point I was like a son to him, until he sired one of his own. He told me that it wouldn't look good among his nobles to favor another over a child of his own blood. Though I was young, I understood and trusted in the King's decision. I was then sent to squire for some of his best knights and grew up into a fine warrior under their tutelage. I had won numerous tournaments and faced off in many battles the next few years. At the age of eighteen I was asked by my king to take the black, an esteemed honor as I was told.
I remember the ceremony like it was yesterday. I stood surrounded by my brothers in black, ready to join their ranks. I knelt before the wizard in white and my king. The Sword of Halthgar was placed in front of me, as was a custom in this ritual. This was when I saw it glow. This royal sword was imbued with the magic of old so it was no surprise that it glowed. The wizard held a mighty staff in his right hand and raised it up. As I said my oath, a flash of light emitted from the staff, and I was sanctified. I was now a member of the Black Guard. Just as the ceremony ended, I saw the sword stopped glowing as the king picked it up and held it in his hands.
Now sixteen years later, I was relieved of my dutied as the white wizard relinquished me of my oath. The sword was shining again and I was enraptured by its glow. My mind started to swirl and I felt uneasy. I could have sworn I heard voices even though I was now alone in the throne room. Something in me was telling me to take a closer look at the sword. I approached the throne and the sword started pulsing its glow even brighter. I don't know what got the better of me but I stretched my hand out.
I picked up the sword, the sword only the true king could hold.
|
The old king and I were pretty close friends. I introduced him to most of the playmates within his harem. Comprised of but not limited to Vicky Vallencourt & Suzy Crabgrass. Some nights, we’d play uno together. He knew I would let him win and for me? Honestly. I liked it. He could see how I liked it so... no longer was I there to please his majesty, I was there for me. Someone who had the keys not to the Royal palace, but to his own character. Had the king been not of royal blood he would of admired this in me- instead I was merely found amusing which never quite sat well with me. And now? I think that may be all I’ll ever have been. For, there’s nothing to be of me now. Not without him.
| 2021-02-28T02:50:48 | 2021-02-28T01:37:57 | 566 | 14 |
[WP] Your quirk is the ability to understand all languages, extending to fictional ones not meant to be understood such as simlish. This leads to some... interesting results.
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"Mr. Fandel you seem to have a visitor."
"A visitor? Who in the blazes wants to see an old man like me?"
I step over the threshold into the cramped senior living room, the unmistakable musty smell washing over me.
"She says she'd like to interview you for the local newspaper."
The nurse closes the door behind her, promising to check in soon. I quickly plant myself across from him. I dont have much time before she returns, whenever that is.
"Mr. Fandel I dont want to interview you for the newspaper. I want to know about the War Angels."
His eyes widen before quickly falling into a squint.
"Little missy you're old enough to know that angels are just myths."
"I'm old enough to know the only ones that are myths are the ones not from Earth."
He continues to squint at me, but does not budge. I press on.
"Please Mr.Fandel, I only want to hear your story. If you could please start in the year 1914-"
"No." He stops me short. None of these men have ever stopped me before. I sit down in the battered wicker chair, staring intently.
"No...what you want is THE story, not just my story. What you want is WW2."
I sigh. Of course he wants to start with WW2. It's not as if everyone I've talked to has only lived through WW2. Of course it would be my luck to find the only WW1 Vet of the bunch who doesnt want to talk about WW1. But I can't force him to start anywhere.
"Go on then."
"Nothing makes a man more superstitious than being at war..."
Here we go, I think.
"...because nothing that's real you want to be real, and everything that isn't you do. Shadows of the enemy? No no, can't be, just smoke and sleepless nights messing with ya. Several missed shots? Enemy must be blinded by- and then boom! Shot in leg. You get disoriented, lost, scared, confused, think your life is about to end. But then, an angel appears! Maybe your sister or mother, maybe a stranger, maybe the Virgin Mary herself, maybe as bright as the morning sun or maybe like a cloud, it's different for everyone. You stumble after her, praying for salvation, and suddenly, you're back at camp or with your squad, like the whole thing never happened. Many guys would believe ya, because it happened to them to, but many also didn't. At least not until it happened to them. After the war all sorts of stories started pouring in from around the world. Jerries, Japs, Commies, Brits, Frenchies, and our boys too: all of them. It happened again in Nam, and probably every war ever! But..."
He leans toward me, beckoning me closer. His voice seems to shift to a whole new person.
"Let me tell you something. After my own experience, I met another fellow from the French side. We exchanged stories. A beautiful girl with Auburn hair and freckled skin leading us back to camp. He said she talked to him the whole way back. I thought that was rather peculiar, since he said she spoke to him in French, but I know for sure she spoke to me in English. This girl...well she kept coming up the more I researched. Russian, German, Chinese, Japanese...apparently she even understood men who were blurting out gibberish. And you know what the most interesting part of it is?"
"What?" I whisper, sweat forming on my brow.
"That girl hasn't aged a lick. I know because she's sitting right in front of me."
He rips the beanie off my head, my Auburn hair falling around my shoulders. I freeze.
"You are her! The youngest of the three sisters! Even though I switched to French you still understood me! And the same hair and skin!"
I bolt for the door, blurting out the first excuse that came to mind to the nurse, and drive away as fast as possible.
I'm dead. I'm so dead. Mother is going to kill me. She's going to kill us.
-----
Well that sounded a lot better in my head. Oh well. Maybe I'll return to this story and polish it up some time.
|
It was weird, on the school trip to Europe you thought everyone in the airport spoke English. Then in Germany, and the Hamburg airport, followed by Spain, England, and Scotland. Every single one! Jim realised it was only him who understood after passing some shit talking Frenchmen. Jake, who the comments were directed at, usially took offence at jibes about his nose. How it turned sharply left halfway down from the fight with his dad. The mere mention of it would be enough to reproduce the twist on the offending face. But no, Jake kept talking about how he wanted to buy a right hand drive car.
*Goes on to talk about the Rosetta Stone, and translating the untranslatible forgotten languages*
Can't finish, too tired. Feel free to steal and finish if ya want
| 2018-05-03T18:49:05 | 2018-05-03T17:28:18 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] In a world full of magicians, no one expected you to just walk over during the long cast time and punch your opponent in the face.
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I walk out into the ornate duelling hall, seeing my opponent for the first time. Luke Greywrath, son of the Magistrate, and resident jackass. He's got a wide, cocky grin on his face. He's been waiting for this since Day 1 at the Imperial Combat Mages Academy. The lights dim and a spotlight shines to the announcer just above the arena.
"Ladies and Gentleman, Wizards and Witches, welcome to the final duel of the night!" The crowd cheers, abuzz with excitement. It's not for me, of course. Luke has quite the reputation, having yet to lose a duel since arriving, and has quickly become this year's top mage. I do everything I can to suppress a smile. "And tonight, we have a _special_ bout for you! On one side, a magician who has yet to lose a duel at our fine academy. Son of the magistrate, he already shows fantastic promise to be the next greatest graduate this school has ever seen! Ladies and Gentlemen, Luuuuuke Greywrath!!" The crowd cheers again, this time with even greater vigor, for their resident champion. He smiles and waves at the crowd, obviously soaking in the adoration. He loves it.
"And on the other, the only student here to serve a tour of duty *before* enrolling in our fine Academy, for his first bout within the Arena, Jordaaaan Bakerr!"
A few claps. Hah, seems like they don't know what to think of that. The announcer quickly goes over the rules, standard combat duel, first to fall loses. Excellent. I start walking forward as the fanfare erupts and the lights return, signalling the start of the duel. 20 meters between myself and Luke. Jackass is still smiling, cocky bastard.
I see his fingertips start to glow red and I recognize the symbol he draws in the air to be fire wave. Potent opener, but, unfortunately for Luke, predictable. As he finishes his cast, I step two steps to the left and keep walking forward. A rush of fire and molten rock fly by me. 15 meters.
He winces in frustration, and quickly goes to cast another. Ice crystals form in the air around him as blue magical energy circles up his arms. I quickly assess where his arm is pointing, count to 3, and jump to the right, right before a beam of ice shoots where I just was. His smile disappears as he misses again, good. I'm getting to him.
He's getting angry. Cackling electricy runs from his heart to his fingers as he motions to charge up a spell. Thunderstorm, area of effect. Seems like he doesn't want to miss this time.
He is good, but the high-level spell he chose just bought me 10 seconds of cast time. After a few quick flicks of my fingers, I break into a dead sprint- straight towards him. His confident facade falters as I quickly cast speed and strength caltrops on myself. My arm begins to glow red as I close the distance between us.
You see, on my tour of duty, I learned something. Something invaluable when it comes to surviving combat, something noone here seems to understand.
The goal isn't to cast the biggest, most destructive spell.
The goal, is to eliminate the enemy, in *whatever way possible*.
Many young mages, such as Luke here, do no understand that. They think that magic duels on the battlefield are honorable, they think that if they cast a spell, so too will their opponent to counter it. They think of honor and glory, not of blood and stone.
In that, they are wrong. In 8 seconds flat, I'm less than one meter away from him. I can see his face contort from pride and prejudice to sheer terror as my fist comes up, and he realizes he doesn't have enough time to finish the incantation.
My fist connects with bone and tissue, every muscle fiber in my arm dedicated strictly to putting this shit-stain down. With a flash of red and a loud 'CRRACK', I slam his head into the wall behind him, a destructive shockwave coming out of the stone behind his head. As he slides down the wall losing consciousness, the crowd is stunned into silence. Luke lay on the ground, defeated.
After a few moments, one person starts clapping. Then another. And another, and before I know it the whole stadium is roaring my name in sinful delight.
Before today, they saw duels. But tonight, they saw a glimpse of *real* combat.
|
Sure waiting for the magician to finish the spell would have probably been the proper thing to do, but choosing to cast a spell that takes 20 minutes, five what I think are runes, and seven incantations just to charge up his magic before actually casting a five letter fire spell seemed like… well a waste of time.
So a punch to the nose seemed the appropriate response. “Next time just pick one that takes a few second. We don’t have time to waste on all the rituals.” Huffing I held out my hand to help the magician back up off the ground. “Or just use the staff as a blunt object? Thing has got to be heavy.”
Once the man was back up I then pulled out my book and read a small water spell to make a rain cloud over his head. “Shoulda went for the spell book instead, some have short cuts and don’t need magic stones. Plus ones that are very obvious and long ones on what your doing is easier to counter.”
| 2022-09-22T04:28:03 | 2022-09-21T16:54:37 | 195 | 100 |
[WP]The heroes confront you with the legendary mystical weapon that can defeat you. Unbeknownst to them, it's actually the one thing you needed to conquer the world. You were having trouble finding it, so you started the legend of the weapon yourself, to get some poor schmuck to find it for you.
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“Soul Render? You actually found it?” I asked the bloodied group in their tongue. I actually gave up searching for the cursed thing believing the ‘Hammer that can Shatter and Reforge Souls Crushed’ was a myth. Judging by their armor there was Two Paladins of different churches or ‘Orders’ based on their color scheme, an hybrid Archer with a short Compact Bow, a Ranger of some humanoid species but can’t tell with under all that leather and a a exhausted manga user that looks more akin to a priest then a combat medic.
_‘Wizards are real, even after all this time I still can’t believe it.’_ I chuckled to myself. Still unable to fully comprehend this strange world.
“Yes we have and with it we will end your reign of machines!” The lead paladin said with a passionate and hate filled voice more feminine then what I was expecting. All the men must have been killed, captured or turned traitor to my cause. The planet’s inhabitants are surprisingly tolerant about their beliefs and equality as a female anything other than wife or servant would have gotten them branded a witch and heretic back on earth during the medieval era.
_‘How is she running around in all that armor? That thing weighs half a ton!’_
“I gotta thank you for this, that hammer was a bitch to find.” I said excitedly in English as I leapt into action.
After a brief fight but surprisingly tough fight I stand over the party of five as my guards move in. I wave them off but order a medic to see to their injuries. The poor fools never stood a chance in their iron and leather armor. The synthetic muscle fiber suit that grants me my ‘pitch black skin’ allows me to lift several thousand times my own body mass and movement speed that can break the sound barrier.
“Suu!” I called out.
A mass of white and green sparkled slime shot out of the dark and completely encased the lead Paladin at my feet. From the bottom of her boots to the top of her now dented helmet, from the way the slime had seemly tightened or shrink I know Suu had entered her orifices and wound openings to begin healing her from within. The nano machines the slime ate from my medkit all those years ago got right to work in healing this foe of mine. From the amount of brownish black gunk rising within the white slime from the paladins mouth the slime had just removed one serious respiratory infection or many smaller infections built up over time. The yellowish black chucks coming from a stab wound near her liver means she just got rid of a cancer she never knew about. For another two minutes the slime healed, cured and purified the Paladin that came here to kill me.
Just as quickly as the slime encased the holy warrior it shot out back into the dark. A zap of lighting brought light to the shadows for a moment before fading. The slime walks back in humanoid form out holding a sparkling staff and wearing my old military raincoat like a poncho for clothes.
“Thank you. Please wait here. I don’t want to hurt them any more then I did.” I said as I took the staff. By now the guards and medics within the fort had the others to the hospital on base and had them locked up as they got treated. This one was there leader and such required my personal attention.
I pointed the staff at a leather patch between the armor and activated the rune with my thumb. A sizzling pop was heard and the Paladin was awoken with a start. Two guards with clubs with weak shock enchantment held her in place from lashing out. The guards were able to restrain her after a brief struggle that resulted in one of the guard’s whacking the Paladin in the head causing her to lose her helmet. Blue eyes full of rage stared back at me through the mess of red hair.
“Your awake! Good, your a tough son of a bitch ain’t you?” I said in my native language, honestly impressed with how she held up the fight even with her deadly injuries and crippling illnesses. She spat in my face without a moments hesitation.
“I will not bend to your black magic!” She roared and struggled to break free of her captors grip but failed to do so. These two are some of my longest living service men in my army. Their black fiber weaved armor resembles those of heavily armed law enforcement officials back before man conquered the stars with blood red details to distinguish rank, battle honors and identity only recognizable to those within their ranks. Honk and Lug. It’s been a good 20 years since these boys took up arms for their village against a inquisitor of the local church. They came such a long way.
“I apologize, I sometimes forget you don’t speak my native language. Are you well? Any tightness of the chest or problems breathing?” I asked pointedly.
She stopped and looked down on herself. Her armor was still on just as it had been before the battle but she felt different. Like a weight has been removed, allowing her to breathe fresh air like never before and the sore stiffness in her right side isn’t there any more. Her wounds were healed and she felt as if she has awoken from a healing spring.
“W-what did you do!?” She screamed panicky. Stories she heard from fleeing raider tribes and savage clans from the Marines Domain of how the curse land was home hunters who would replace the organs of those they captured with insidious contraptions to slowly kill the host and any around them. She had countless images of the bloody aftermaths of such machines flash through her mind.
“I healed you or rather Suu (that’s the slime girl over there) healed you of all injuries and illnesses. You had some nasty diseases messing with your lungs and liver.” I said as I pointed to Suu who was easily swinging around Soul Render with a large tendril sticking out of her head like a child playing with a large stick, trying to spin it in a circle as fast as slime-ly possible.
The brothers help her to her feet and put her hands in a iron binding behind back. Each with a hand on her shoulder and a grip on her elbow they walked her forward as I motion them forward. Suu walking along a dozen paces behind us with her new toy.
“Where are you taking me?” She asked defeated.
“To your friends in the hospital. Though you are misguided I understand why you and your collation want to destroy me and everything involved with me.”
“Because your a warlord who is an abomination to the gods and must be purged.” She rattled off effortlessly.
“No because I’m threatening everything you know and everything you hold dear. Because I am raising a country that threatened the power that the noble class has over the masses and because I nor anyone under my charge from the lonely farmer to my most trusted general will not kneel to no one. Our over arching goal is a simple but a noble one and with Soul Render it is all but achieved. I hope someone with your Force of Will and Skills will speed the progress along.” I explained.
“What is your plan?” She asks, this just may be the break she needed. Her chance to find a method to the madness that is those iron men, steel horse less carriages and metal wingless dragons. Something to exploit to end their blight on these holy lands.
“My plans? Simply Survival.” I said and looked off to the stars with thoughts of home and a war lost.
|
It actually had a scent, I was pleased to discover. Like lilac...or maybe it was honeysuckle?
The stone pulsed and radiated power, like a heartbeat, throbbing throughout my body, only surging from beyond my own flesh.
It was no bigger than a AA battery but it contained more power than a sun...full of dark magic...and it was meant for me...
Created for me...
*Fallormiel*...
The Death Stone.
I knew it’s true potential. I and I alone knew it’s true potential...
The foolish, headstrong group of do-gooders, brought it right to me. The “legend” I, myself, put out into the world would be their undoing. They had fallen for my plan. I wanted to thank them for doing all the footwork, but that might be counterintuitive. They had always defeated me in combat. Time and time again. Of course, they outnumbered me 7 to 1, but I was more powerful than any 6 of them combined. 7 was just a perfect number. They simply outnumbered me in every fight. Now, they stand before me, grinning like monkeys. Proud of *their* stone. They believe they have me beaten. They really believe they have me beaten. Ha! “It’s over,” said Captain Truth, “we have the stone!”
“So I see,” I replied, feigning insecurity.
“Give it up, its over,” exclaimed Doctor Justice.
“I’m afraid I can not do that,” I scoffed. I could see the group jerk in anticipation. They knew. They knew I had something up my sleeve. This wasn’t as easy as they originally thought. “Although, I am afraid, Doctor, *this* is indeed...over,” I said, reaching my hand out.
The stone leapt from Captain Truth’s hand and smacked in to mine with a satisfying *thwack*.
The group flew into action, leaping toward me and my giant, armored frame...
But it was far too late...
“*Quie jai fala thrill*,” I spoke.
The stone became too hot to hold; I released it from my grip against my will; unable to contain its power. As if in slow motion, the stone fell toward the rain slicked street beneath me!
VVVVVVVVVRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSH!
Silence.
I opened my eyes.
Black.
Nothing but blackness.
White specks began to fall, like snow backlit on a field of lightless midnight. It took me a moment to realize it wasn’t snow. It was of course not snow, it was July in New York. It was ash. Ash and cloth. Captain Truth wore white.
It was all that was left of him...
Flakes falling from a cloudless sky. He, and his ilk, had vanished into a rain of ruin. They were beginning to form small piles where they once stood. Slowly the city in the background came into focus and I realized it was over. The distant honks of cars and buzz of metropolitan life came to the forefront of my attention.
The war was over. Not the battle. Not the fight... The entire war. No one dare stand against me now. I had won. And if the Truth and Justice Team couldn’t beat me who else could?
No one.
The world was mine to conquer...
And conquer it I would...
Soon.
This was something I would savor. The screams, the cries of mercy...
The fear.
My armor clinked as I stepped forward.
There was no other sound. No one yelling, *stop, villain!*...
No, it was just me. Me and the helpless masses of mortals.
I would savor it all...
| 2020-07-25T13:47:55 | 2020-07-25T13:39:50 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] You, an American, awake in an alternate dimension where magic exist. But unlike the fantasies on Earth, where magic is conjured through Latin (the more Latin you know, the stronger your magic), beings in this dimension all speak a different language, and their language of power is English.
|
A glimmer of sun. The peaceful sound of waves rolling onto the beach. Birds cawing. I yawned and stretched. The good kind of stretch where your body does that shake. I closed my eyes to return to my sleep.
“Woah hang on. I was not at a beach last night?” I think to myself as I jolt awake.
I prop myself up on my elbows and look around to take in my scenery. I was in a... circle? White sand out to my left and right reaching for miles until making a circle, a white cliff face as well encircling me no more than 60 feet high with trees above, a pink body of water in the middle with a waterfall on the other side, miles away. While alarmed at the scenery I didn’t recognize, the waterfall caught my attention. It was... wrong. I stared at it, perplexed. It appeared to be moving from the body of water UP the cliff face.
“I must have drank a lot last night. I swear that water is going up, not falling!”
As soon as I utter the words I felt... tired. As if I just ran a mile. Then, an ear splitting, deafening roar rumbles in the distance from the waterfall. The kind I FELT vibrating in my chest. A shockwave hits me and flattens me back down in the beach. I hear rocks cracking and crumbling. Now looking up, I see rocks falling from the cliff face behind me. I hastily pick myself up and begin sprinting away from the rocks. As I’m running I peer out in the distance from where the sound originated to see what on earth could have made that sound. Even with all the rocks falling behind me, I can’t help but stop.
The water from the waterfall is suspended in midair, as if hitting a glass bowl I can’t see, and then returning back to the top of the cliff.
“What in the hell?!”
A rock falls much too close to me so I break out of the trance and keep running. I venture into the water to further distance myself from the dangers behind me and, now safe from the rocks, finally take a moment to catch my breath. Returning my gaze to the “upfall” my jaw drops. This can’t be real. That water *is* moving *up* the cliff face. That’s impossible.
I look around once again. I certainly didn’t fall asleep on a beach last night. I was at a 4th of July party with Jasmine. We... man where did we go? We were at... Amanda’s house, Jacob was there... my memory was foggy. At this point I began to be irritated at my inability to remember. Me, Jasmine, Jacob and Holly, yes! Holly! We went to Amanda’s house and ended up leaving early to go to another party. While walking there....
My thoughts were interrupted by what seemed to be an echo, but almost a whisper, and nearly a memory.
“Ryan”. My name.
I froze. My hair stood up on the back of my neck. I got goosebumps. I swiftly turned around but no one was there. “...Ryan...” once again. It was IN my ear, I heard it audibly, but it was also in my head.
“RYAN!” A roar this time. Followed by a laugh.
Terrified, I looked in every direction but saw no one.
“RYAN!” My name swirling in my head but echoing as if I was in a small room.
“Where are you?! Who are you?!” I scream. Even terrified, I felt tired once more.
Then, out of a thin air, a figure appears in front of me in the water. No more than 5 feet away. Surprised and alarmed I fall back in the water and begin to crawl backwards away from it. A large, towering figure. Human in form but with 4 arms and 2 legs. One of the arms holds a staff, the other a sword. A robe and hood covering its body. The other two arms reach up to reveal a surprised face. It is a near human face but larger. Markings all over its neck and face. A pale green color. Eyes black.
The figure mutters words I don’t understand and begins walking towards me. Laughing. It’s the same voice I heard saying my name.
“No, no, no! STOP!” The figure freezes mid step. I can see every fiber and muscle in its large legs and face straining to move but it can’t. I go to lift myself but my legs give out. I’m exhausted.
It bellows in a roar, yelling in a language I don’t understand. My eyes widen in terror and I once again get up to run, finding new energy. As I’m sprinting away I hear it once again...
“Ryan....” it laughs.
I run down the beach but I’m stuck down in this bowl! Back from the initial shockwave I see a large section of the cliff face had collapsed, marking a potential way out. I run back as quick as I can, checking behind me to see the figure still stuck in the water.
I begin scrambling up the collapsed rock face. While athletic, I was no rock climber and about 30 feet up a rock gave loose and I fell. I heard a crunch and snap and blinding pain. I look at my right wrist to see I had clearly broken it. I screamed in agony.
“No, no, no this can’t be happening.” I look back to the figure and see it is now moving towards me. “No this is not good. Damn you wrist, WORK!”
Once again I become tired. I hear a crunch, pop and snap and feel my wrist... moving? I watch in both horror and wonder as my wrist rearranges itself, the bones back in place and the skin closed up.
I scramble up. No time to think. I get back on the rocks and once again near the top I can’t bypass a large boulder. At this point, why the hell not? “Move...” the boulder shakes and rolls down the cliff, nearly landing on the figure.
I get to the top of the cliff and find myself in an exotic forest. Large leafed trees, grass up to my chest, the suns beating down on m-... SUNS?!
No time to think. This thing wants to kill me. I take off into the forest before hearing it’s voice and laugh one more time
“Ryan...”
|
“Burrrmmmmm” faded as the bus pulled away from the Redline bus/W.sheridan stop and I snap awake, straightening out my frames, as the houses blur past.
“Shit my stop,” I said. pulling the chord.
The bus stopped in an instant. No momentum propelled fling forward from the driver hitting the breaks. But stopped like one would pause a movie, except I was still moving. I stood up confused as hell.
The red dot light sign read: “su pase cta puede estar vencido, asegúrese de registrarse” as I looked around everything was in a different language. I pushed on the “empujar abierto,” jumped out in the middle of Broadway, my shirt whipped passed me with a roar of every car, bird, bus, tree, plane, and sound of the city began to play at once...
BEEEEPBEEEP!! From the cab behind the bus. “Fuck off” I said, letting a bird fly; as I quick stepped a crossed the street a Burst of energy shot into the sky from where my hand has been with the bang of a shotgun.
The cab, driver paled from fear as he squealed his tires passed me.
A single Black car stopped, but I noticed everyone began to panic and cleared the block. Click! clunk! The black car door closed.
Two people in al black with beanies and ray bans concealing their appearance .
The taller person shouted “stop we necessitio apple mouth” the other person untangled a long piece of cloth in his hands moving swiftly.
“Whaaa” I couldn’t finish the word: what, when an apple suddenly was wedged between my teeth. I backed away down the street, slower than I wanted, the person with the cloth hand tried to grab me, along with the other. “Eeeuwww I moaned while biting down and pushing the applesith my lips. As I finished the word and continued to make the “wwwww “sound, the apple shot out of my mouth and off the shoulder off the cloth wielder. I noticed the individual’s shade clattered down the sidewalk as the apple shattered the black car window.
Shocked, I didn’t notice the second person. “Relax” the person said as they touched my neck with a bare finger.
I collapsed into a black fence surrounding the park next to the sidewalk. I grabbed the fence to pull myself up they pushed me back down with a hand atop my head. On the ground next to me, what looked like a cheat sheet on loose leaf paper titled “frases mágicas.”
“¡Oye!”
I glance up to see the persons blue chaotic eyes holding her pointer finger to her lips “Shhhh.” Terrified I tried to speak, she pushed her finger to my lips and shouted:”Slept!”
Her eyes were the last thing I saw my eyes closed.
| 2020-01-28T14:20:02 | 2020-01-28T14:10:31 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way.
|
"Mr. President, there's been an attack."
"What? Here? By who? Why am I just finding out about this!"
"Calm down, sir, i'll explain everything in the Situation Room," the Secretary of State said, motioning towards the door.
Trump got up from behind his desk and hurried down the hallway. "Is my life in danger? I always knew those Latinos would get their revenge. How much time do we have to get to the bunker?"
"It's... actually quite the opposite, sir," the Secretary explained. "Please, come inside. The Secretary of Defense is waiting for you to give his statement."
Trump mumbled a few things under his breath as he took his seat beside the Vice President. Papers were shuffled around and whispered conversations came to an end. The President looked visibly uncomfortable, his impatience clearly evident in the color of his face, now a bright purple.
"Please, if you'll direct your attention to the monitor..." the Secretary of Defense began. He shifted in his chair nervously as the screen came to life. On it was a known ISIS stronghold, viewed from the air by what appeared to be a UAV. "It was always known to the US Government that this location was one of great importance, however, we wouldn't know exactly *how* important it was until about an hour ago," began the Secretary. "We knew, through our intelligence agencies, that this location would host a rather large ISIS convention. That many leaders would be here. We just didn't know when, exactly."
"Yeah, get on with it," Trump said, tapping his foot on the ground.
A few moments later, there was a soundless explosion on the screen. A mushroom cloud of epic proportions billowed out from the ground. Moments later, the video cut out.
"What the hell was that?!" Trump exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat.
"An explosion, sir," the Vice President droned.
"Don't you think I know that?" Trump snapped back. He turned in his chair to face the Secretary of Defense. "Who did this? What does this mean?"
The secretary began rewinding the video. The mushroom could evaporated back into the ground and all was well as far as the video feed was concerned.
"Look closely," the Secretary said, pointing to the screen. "Watch those spots there. Do you see anything moving?"
Just then, clear as day, small figures began moving away from the building. There were about 20 to 30 units, each one moving at a speed far greater than that of mere walking.
"What is it?" Trump asked, cocking his head to the side.
"Canadians... riding moose," The Secretary of State declared, clearly upset.
"*Canadians?* Why? How the hell did they get moose into the middle east?" Trump asked, incredulous. "How did they do that? The explosion? They did that?"
"Milk bags," declared the Secretary of Defense. "They presented bags of milk to the ISIS leaders as a peace offering and sign of friendship. Apparently the bags were filled with a chemical agent that exploded on contact with oxygen. The bags were porous, able to let some oxygen in at very little increments. A literal time bomb."
Silence fell over the Situation Room. Trump, his skin a blue-green color, mostly from the light of the screen reflecting off his features, and partly because of the news he had just received. The Vice President loosened his tie.
"The Canadians killed every single ISIS leader in one single attack," the Secretary of Defense said, letting the video play to the point of the mushroom cloud again. "It's over."
"And you know this how?" Trump asked, eyes still on the screen.
"The Canadians told us everything moments after the attack. How they did it, the chemicals they used, everything. I feel like... like it was threatening in nature, Mr President. Like they wanted to intimidate us."
Trump squinted his eyes at the now blank screen, a thought forming in his head. One that included border protection and a new wall, farther to the north.
|
The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***"
| 2016-01-29T08:59:05 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 345 | 10 |
[WP] You are a Death-Salesman. You sell death to immortals who are tired of living. Usually, this entails finding that one blessed bullet, or that one specific flower that is this immortal's weakness. However, your most recent client is an extremely difficult case.
|
I find her at a run-down motel on the outskirts of Ukiah, California. I find myself thinking that it’s a joyless place and, as it turns out, I’m more on the money than I could have imagined.
“I want to assure you that you can be completely frank with me,” I tell the ragged woman with the dull, lifeless eyes, trying to keep me voice professional even as I squirmed uncomfortably in the lumpy armchair. “I’ve done this for hundreds of years. I’ve seen everything.”
“I’ll come right out with it then,” she says, her voice surprisingly lucid for someone with such a vacant expression. “I was cursed at the age of 21. My curse is that if I ever feel real joy, I’ll die. I spent hundreds of years living like this, desperately afraid of even the smallest hint of happiness, hiding from it, and now that I’m finally ready to die -“
I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. Well. It turns out I haven’t, in fact, seen everything.
“You don’t know what brings you joy?” I suggest.
She nods. “Will you help me find it?”
How could I refuse? We start small, minuscule almost. We hire a nice car, a convertible, and drive up the Californian Coast. It’s as new to me as it is to her and honestly, it’s more satisfying than I could have imagined. She cracks a smile for the first time when I book us into a cabin in the woods and she wakes up to the sight of a herd of elk grazing around our cabin. She laughs for the first time when I fall out of our canoe and begin bobbing up and down in the lake, my orange lifevest bright and ridiculous against the grey and overcast autumn sky.
Days pass, then months, then years. We traverse America, Europe, Asia; we chase sunsets, waterfalls, and everything in between. I buy her books, movies, the finest food, the highest rated wine; she tastes everything, shares everything, and we spend hours arguing about the merits of the book or the movie or the wine. She smiles most of the time now, squeals with delight when I present her with a puppy, laughs when I tell jokes, tries to shove me into the pool when i make a bad pun.
But it’s not true joy.
I’m not bothered; it’s not unusual for my assignments to take months or even years. My profession is not one for those who prefer instant gratification. We’ll find her true joy, I have no doubt about that.
Today we’re on a small beach in Tasmania, waiting for the sun to set so that we can watch bioluminescence wash up on shore.
“I’m sorry,” she says, out of the blue. “I’m sorry I’m so difficult. I know you’re trying your best.”
I shrug. “It’s one of the better assignments I’ve had. I once spent two months fully conscious and frozen in ice.”
She laughs and turns to look at me, her eyes bright blue and dancing with mirth against the fiercely orange sunset. (How could I have ever thought those eyes dull?) “No way,” she replies. “How can I have known you for so long and still not know every story about you?”
I laugh too, then sigh. “I guess we still have time to find out. Next week I was thinking we could -“
“No,” she interrupts, uncharacteristically. “I’ve been thinking about something. Something we haven’t tried.”
“What?” I ask, staring out at the ocean.
She falls silent and when I turn back to her I see an expression on her face I’ve never seen before. She’s biting her lip and her eyes are filled with... longing. A kind of longing that I feel echoed in my own heart. I suddenly understand exactly what she means.
“Do you- you want that? With me?”
It’s hard to tell if she’s blushing or if the sunset is just washing everything over in pink. “Is that so weird?”
I think back to our years together, sometimes alone and sometimes with others. Her smile, her laugher, the surprising kindness I’ve found in her, the way she rests her hand on mine sometimes when we’re watching a movie in a dark theatre.
And it’s suddenly obvious, painfully obvious. “Do you think it will bring you joy?” I ask, fearing the answer.
“If it doesn’t... I guess we’ll know,” she replies. She sounds scared.
I want to hold her. I want to suspend this particular moment in time and live in it forever. Since the latter is beyond my powers, I go for the former. “You know, most women aren’t so intense with the pick-up lines,” I try and joke. My voice sounds unsteady even to me.
She does me the favour of laughing anyway. “Mot women should try being cursed. Really puts perspective on things.”
I take another moment to look at her - the laughter lines that have developed at the corners of her eyes, the freckles dusted across her cheeks. If this works - god, if this works...
I press my lips to hers, my heart wild with fierce and opposing hopes. Hoping she’ll live, hoping we can carry on like this. Hoping she’ll die, that I’m her cure, that I’ve given her joy. Just... hoping.
Hoping, hoping, hoping.
|
Most jobs have a private section that ride alongside the general practitioners of that type of job, for teachers, private school, and doctors, private hospitals. As for me, I belong to the 9th plane of hell's 'Surekill' corporation, a private corporation that works alongside the reapers, meant for the death of immortals.
&#x200B;
It's not to say that the grim reapers of the 6th plane *cannot* kill an immortal, it just takes a long long time for them to tip the scales of fate in order for some or another incident to end the life of whatever dumb sod that decided it was a good idea to live forever.
&#x200B;
No it was not to say that at all, but like other private sections, our work came at a great/er cost than whatever the reapers could ever reasonably claim, and we damn well earned it. To kill an immortal takes a death assessment team to assess from which world we could find an item that would kill an immortal, and then my job would be to acquire such an item within the 100 year time limit we promised.
&#x200B;
We are the best in all the planes at our jobs, we just, weren't ready for our latest job. In fact it shouldn't be possible, the reason I disdained fools you sought out immortality was that they did not have the one thing needed for immorality to turn from blessing to curse, they lacked divine power. Regardless of the creature, even a hint of divine power meant that that creature would never want to kill themselves, it was at once the greatest anti-depressant and source of life of any heavenly or hell born creature that could live forever.
&#x200B;
Our latest customer, had more divine power than any, it was a God.
| 2019-09-24T22:47:22 | 2019-09-24T20:39:34 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] The main character just found out that their significant other is not only a shapeshifter, but also every person they've ever dated.
Edit: Well this took off better than I expected. We got all kinds of stuff here: romance, comedy, horror, twist endings, even a dab at poetry. I love it!
|
I did it, I finally told him. I apologized for not telling him sooner.
The look on his face was bringing tears to my eyes. He looked as if I just simultaneously told him Santa wasn't real and his dog Happy didn't go to a farm to live happily ever after. It's such a morbid mix between bewilderment and betrayal. I wonder if Julius Caesar had a similar face when he spoke the words "Et tu, Brute?" As I stared at his face, I wished with all my might he could understand why I did what I did.
I've only ever had two boyfriends. My first boyfriend Brad, was a total lunatic. On the surface, he was the perfect man. He was absolutely charming, with dark brown hair the color of oaken tables, and dark eyes to match. I loved his neatly groomed haircuts, and the 5 o'clock shadow he seemed to always perfectly trim. But despite how gorgeous he was on the surface, he had demons deep inside his heart.
Behind closed doors, he was downright abusive. He spoke to me like he owned me, and told me daily how worthless I was. I hated his nickname for me, sweet cheeks. He always objectified me in front of others by calling me sweet cheeks, and smacking my ass. He verbally beat me into submission, to the point where I felt scared and hopeless and trapped. I fell into a depression, and I just went through the motions to try to appease him. I let him rape me sexually whenever he wanted, because it always improved his mood. Occasionally after sex, he'd let me go to my favorite little French café, where I'd have a cup of French vanilla cappuccino and some biscuits. It was the only time I ever felt alive during our relationship.
One cold chilly night, after I refused sex due to the gut wrenching pain from my period, he backhanded me across the face. It was the first time he physically assaulted me. It stung, and my face felt red hot, like it had been burned by the summer sun. I ran into the bathroom crying, and locked the door. In that moment, all I wanted was to escape and run away. I think my fear and desperation is what awoke my dormant shapeshifting powers.
I shapeshifted for the first time. I became another woman. This was my salvation.
I didn't shapeshift to lie, or to deceive. I shapeshifted for self preservation, to escape Brad. I shapeshifted out of necessity, and it became second nature. The worst I've done was shapeshift in a side aisle at Costco, to double back for a second sample. I never shapeshifted with any malicious intent, and it was the same when it came to John.
After I escaped Brad, I stayed in an altered form constantly. I only ever returned to my original form to recharge for 10 minutes a day, before going back into hiding. I was mortified of going outside at first, but gradually realized Brad wouldn't even recognize me. I began to frequent my favorite little French café, and never saw Brad again.
I'm glad I did, because that's actually where I met John. He was sitting alone with his short, beach blonde hair, and his scruffy facial hair. He had bright blue eyes, that looked like the ocean, and they were intently staring down into one of my favorite books. I saw him a few more times, before I asked him nervously if he was enjoying the Game of Thrones books. We chitchatted, and he seemed to know everything about me and we clicked instantly. We were soulmates, made for each other. I fell madly in love.
That's why I shapeshifted every time we broke up, and found him again. To fall in love with him again. I couldn't lose him, and I couldn't live without him. We fought and broke up over the dumbest things. He would close off, but I always came back to him as another woman. Someone he'd find attractive, and someone he could open up to again. It was a vicious cycle, and he's loved me as four different women now.
And then it hit me. That's a justification he would understand. The words formed in my head, and finally came out.
"John, I know I've deceived you, but I did it out of love. You've loved me as four different women. Isn't that proof enough that we're meant to be together? Doesn't that justify what I've done to preserve our love? You've fallen in love with me four separate times!"
He looked at me, with a blank face, and a smile began to form at the corners of his lips. His eyes narrowed, and suddenly, I didn't recognize him anymore. The hair on his head and face started darkening, as he stared at me with cold threatening eyes.
"Oh I understand. And you've fallen in love with me twice now... Sweet cheeks."
|
"You mean to say that you were Frank?"
"*And Bob and Jeff and Paul.*"
"And Rick and James and Christopher?"
"*My dear I was them all.*"
"But what about the barman in
The city with the hat?"
"*With I you've only ever been,
I even am your cat.*"
"You mean to say that Mr Fluff..."
"*Is nothing but a fraud!
And if that wasnt quite enough
I'm also Mrs Ward.*"
"My neighbour too? But never did
I take her 'tween my thighs."
"*Though lovers leave you cannot rid
A neighbour til they die!*"
"You awful fiend I cannot stand
To wait a minute more,
I've sent a text and soon a man
Will hammer down the door."
"*Oh what is this? An SMS,
My phone it sings away.
It seems I've something to confess -
You couldn't guess it, pray?*"
"But surely no! It cannot be...
I must be going mad."
"*My lady, does it give me glee
To tell you I'm your dad!*"
"I'm sorry but I'm feeling ill."
"*I thought you'd find it rough.
I'll sweeten up the bitter pill -
I'll shift to Mr Fluff.*"
| 2016-06-28T11:40:16 | 2016-06-28T11:26:52 | 99 | 14 |
[WP] You’re a reformed supervillain, the heroes attack your home to try to bring you to justice. Your family is killed in the process. Your wife’s last words “make them feel it.”
|
"What are you doing here?" His voice demands. Understandably the person is upset at my intrusion. I know EXACTLY how he feels.
"We made a Deal once. For me to retire peacefully and be left alone by your League of Champions. Do you remember?" I ask, blood drying on my clothes.
"Yes. You wanted to stop being involved in the fights, and I asked for proof. You helped me save the world from utter destruction. You proved beyond any doubt I may have had that you wanted to retire. You broke no laws other than fighting Superheroes, and you never crossed That line. They were never killed by you of the injuries you inflicted." Alphaman replied, his gold and white costume shining in the darkness, as he strode toward me slowly.
"Just know that I am not asking for permission in this. But out of a sense of obligation, I feel the need to approach you about this." I explain as I place the portable hard drive on the dining room table.
"The Heroes," I spat, "that stormed My home, killed MY family, are on this footage. I am going to kill them, and only them. Remove the League's protection from them, and I will continue to help against the threats that your Heroes are not prepared for. Please don't deny me this." My voice seems to growl like ominous thunder overhead.
"I am-" Alphaman starts.
"My thirteen year old daughter was roasted alive by Firestar, her idol because she was my child. My eight year old son was frozen then shattered into pieces by Brittle. My wife was sliced into pieces before my eyes and her last words to me, which are on that footage were 'Make them pay'." My voice is shaking. "I was getting ice-cream, and the five heroes who destroyed my life looking for me at home are going to pay. Don't deny me this."
"I will need to see the footage, you understand why." Alphaman whispered. I nodded my agreement and waited. Eight minutes later, a furious Alphaman strode out from his office.
"Make it public. I will back you on this. No Hero should feel they are above the law." Alphaman said.
I nodded once, turned and slipped into the darkness. Fifteen wonderful, peaceful years destroyed in minutes. My hope for retirement ruined because of aggressive Heroes blinded by their own sense of superiority. I am going to \*enjoy\* this.
My first target was the couple, Brittle and Firestar. With their powers, they made a Hero couple adored the world over. Iron Fury was a martial artist renowned for his durability. Retro was a tech based hero. Silvershine was the leader of that doomed group. Silvershine gets to die last.
Alphaman and I had a connection. Family always does. As my younger brother, he has seen me keep promise after promise. I have never broken my word to him, and because of our telepathic connection, lying is literally impossible. Not that I tried.
'Alphaman, I have tracked Brittle and Firestar.' I send to my brother, with an image of the restaurant. The other customers were startled by my appearance, covered in the blood of my family.
They ran as soon as they saw me. The Heroes were chucking to each other over something, it didn't matter what.
"Hey." I yelled. I could here the flinched reactions from the kitchen staff. The two Heroes glances over at me and gasped. Before they got out of their seats, I had dashed forward and slammed my fist through the chest of Brittle. "That is for my son." I whisper.
Firestar flew up and readied an attack. I dodged at the last moment, letting her flames engulf her partner. I flew after her and grabbed her by her ankles. Her death took longer, but only because everything I hit with her body kept shattering.
'I have sent the footage to every news outlet and am spamming it over the Hero channels.' My brother informed me after I told him I got the first two.
Retro wasn't much of a fight. The tech gadgets he kept using me kept breaking due to my Omega Field. Iron Fury after a public declaration he would bring Mr Omega to justice was interrupted by me. Every broken bone was punctuated by me roaring the names of my dead family. 206 bones. Every one broken. My voice was a little hoarse by the end.
Silvershine was last. And this fight could be tricky. She was my brother's fiancee. I strode towards the Champion's Beacon, the headquarters of the the Heroes. None of them tried to stop me, whether it was fear or orders, I didn't really care.
Silvershine was begging my brother to stop me. Once I arrived at the top, my brother and I locked gazes. "I did it for you." Those were her last words as she looked towards Alphaman. But he did nothing as I strangled her.
|
(My first response to one of these)
I was going to let them go. After they’d burst into my house, beat me up, and generally ruined my afternoon, I was going to let them go. A burst of telekinetic power, toppling them with a flick of the wrist, and as I stood over their prone forms, I felt no need to finish them. I truly was a changed man. And then it happened. A stray bolt of lightning from Electric Man, the voltage stopping her heart. As I rushed over to her, broken furniture, shards of glass, and assorted debris flew out of my way in my need to reach my wife. My Sarah. As I held her in my arms I heard her last words, uttered with trembling breath: “Make them feel it.” And then she was gone. I let out a scream, and the various heroes...no, murderers, flew backwards, the house imploding, exploding, expanding and contracting with the force of my rage. Electric Man was the first to die. He was not the last. As the bodies fell I began to compose myself. I thought back to the day I had met her, then to the day that I married her. I thought I had found happiness. Found peace. But there is no happiness, no peace for men like me. With her died the last part of the man I hoped I could be, the man she always saw in me. All that is left is vengeance. And I will make them feel it.
| 2021-04-17T08:20:37 | 2021-04-17T00:16:33 | 49 | 22 |
[WP] Before academy enrollment each parent must purchase a familiar to protect their child. The rich can afford gryphons and dragons. But being poor forced you to seek out the local mad magician who has offered you a new affordable familiar dubbed the “pet rock” instead.
|
Cash poked the thing, which stared back at him with doleful eyes that jiggled suspiciously when he moved it.
"That's the googly eye upgrade to the standard pet rock model," Old Merlin informed him. "It costs three coppers more. There's also a glitter upgrade, a stripes upgrade, or a polishing upgrade, though the polishing upgrade is certainly outside of your budget constraints."
He eyed Cash's clothes when he said this, and Cash glared at him.
"What about a frog?" Cash asked.
Merlin shook his head. "You can't take any old bullfrog from the swamp. It has to be a fire frog from the Mountains of Death to be suitable as a familiar."
"And this river rock will be better than a bullfrog?" Cash asked, holding the googly eye version closer and squinting at it.
He couldn't afford the three copper upgrade fee either, but he wasn't about to tell Merlin that after that look he gave Cash when he examined his clothes.
"Probably," Merlin said with a shrug. "What have you got to lose?"
"Five coppers," Cash replied.
"Deal!" Merlin shouted, grabbing the small coin purse and running before Cash could explain that he meant that was what he had to lose, not what he was offering for the stupid rock and its creepy, lifeless eyes.
Cash sighed and rubbed his forehead. He wasn't sure how he'd explain this to his mother. Those coppers were also supposed to buy his uniform at the thrice-used uniform cart if he didn't want to wear his sister's hand me downs (and he definitely didn't), and he didn't have time to do errands to earn more. The academy started the next day.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Cash showed up at school with his rock tucked safely into the pocket of his older sister's old robes, which she had dyed orange and bedazzled and sewn huge floral patches all over once she had outgrown them in hopes that their mother would be so ashamed that she would agree to buy new robes. It hadn't worked, and his older sister had run off with some minstrel.
"Ah, it's Cash the Gutter Trash!" shouted one of the local butcher's sons from the left. "He wants to be a *mage*."
Cash grimaced but kept walking and refused to look at them, no matter how much he wanted to turn them purple.
"Where's your *familiar*?" Lulie hissed from the front steps of the academy, petting her white gryphon and preening her perfect curls. "You can't do magic without one, Cash! It protects you from the beings on the other side!"
"Will you help me catch a bullfrog after class?" Cash pleaded.
"Oh Cash," she sighed. "A bullfrog won't work. You need..."
"A fire frog from the Mountains of Death, yes," Cash interrupted, "but surely a bullfrog is better than this..."
He produced the googly eyed rock, and Lulie stifled a giggle.
"Did you *make* that?"
Cash rolled his eyes, "No, it was forced upon me by Merlin, who then stole all my coins. Hey, at least it's not the glitter upgrade."
Lulie was kind enough to sit next to him during his first lesson of the day - Magic Fundamentals. She even stopped her gryphon, Snuggles, from pecking the eyes off the rock, which Cash had creatively named "Stone" when the instructor asked for his familiar's name. The instructor stared down her nose at him while the class snickered.
The first spell was easy and safe - just a simple sound illusion of beating wings, but the class got more difficult and more dangerous quickly. Cash found himself squeezing the pet rock and squinting at the blackboard as the teacher wrote out a formula for levitating a cup. Lulie was already in tears next to him, hugging her gryphon to her chest. He glanced around and noticed with shock that all of the other students had given up. He looked down at the rock, which stared back at him with those same doleful eyes.
Drawing a deep breath, Cash stared at the cup, holding the formula in his mind. He squeezed the rock again, and then he felt it. He felt the earth under the school. He felt the mountains far off, made of the same material he held in his hand. The cup shot through the ceiling. The beings from the beyond were prowling at the edge of his vision, but he could feel the earth keeping them back.
"Brave child," hissed one of them, its violet eyes blinking slowly as it stared him down, "to claim the earth as your familiar."
Edit: Thank you for the nice comments. I will let you know if I manage to get anything more written about Cash and Stone.
|
As i opened the door to the mad magician,i immediately saw 3 groups of people with children talking to him. After a few minutes, each children got their very own familar. My son looked at them,sad for the fact that he was offered only a...pet rock.
We walked towards the magician. "Oh,so you did accept the offer?" He said, smiling. "Youre in luck,after all,i left it separated specially for you!". He went and walked towards a door,opening it and entering the strange room. He came back with a large rock with googly plastic eyes on a leash. "Well,here it is! Free of charge" he said,handing it to us.
On our way back,the kid analyzed his new familiar. "So,how will this protect me?" He asked,looking at me with those sad eyes. "Well,you can use the leash to bludgeon someone i guess" i said almost laughing .
Two weeks passed,my kid said college is great! That the rock is seemingly alive and protected him agaisnt some burglars by using my method. But he was obviously nervous,as if he was riding something from me. I asked him what was wrong. "Well...we may have been accidentally gifted a golem that may or may not be elemental." I was extremely surprised to hear that, why would he gift us such valuable thing? But second of all,What size was the golem? What element? Is he strong? But regardless of what it is,we need to know if this was truly a gift or a misunderstanding.
--------
This is the first story i have ever written,so sorry if its bad.
| 2021-01-06T08:39:22 | 2021-01-06T08:12:45 | 3,119 | 84 |
[WP] No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes.
|
Might as well add my own too.
-----
It began with just a few discounts. Since I was a teenager, I thought it was normal for stores to give discounts straight off the top. No one really said anything, the men and women behind the counter just made small talk, punched a few numbers, and my total was cut by some amount. Most days I never noticed, but when I caught on that it was happening everywhere, I just thought the world was just better for pretty people.
I was a bit of an asshole for a while. I started a blog describing all experiences, judging stores on their discounts. Some were really low. Some were outstandingly high. Some gave none at all, and I made sure to chew them out. I made one poor girl cry. She kept apologizing, fluttering back and forth in a state between fight and flight, scared she would lose her job but knowing no way out. I relished that day for months.
Gods, I was so small. I thought it was normal that friends were always at arms length, just friendly in a hollow way, that all the movies that swung that hammer of friendship down upon us were just full of shit and idolizing something that didn't exist. But one day, I was listening to a couple talk about their day, and I saw how they *smiled* at each other and talked about people they knew in such glowing terms-- all at once, their happiness was my emptiness. I knew something was wrong with me.
So what did I do? Improve myself? Ha, no. I just trudged along, feeling miserable for weeks. Sad, hungry, and in ripped sweats, I walked into a big box store to find ice cream. A young woman with a nametag tapped me on the shoulder as I bent over to grab a tub of caramel swirl.
"Excuse me?" she asked sweetly.
"...Yes?" I responded back. I had been in this position a million times before. I was constantly mistaken as an employee by other customers. But this red-shirted sweetheart, with short brown hair and a smile that could melt hearts from a mile away, was clearly an employee. Her nametag read "Heather," and she asked me what she should do next.
"I'm free the next hour, what do you want me to work on next?" Heather said to me.
I don't know what stopped me from telling her that I didn't work there. I felt it was plainly obvious, being in ripped up sweats and all. No nametag should have been a giveaway. But instead, I told her to follow me.
There was a small cafe on the other side of the checkout. I never ordered anything from there, I never saw anyone actually *sit down* and enjoy so much as a cup of coffee, but the stools were soft and the table was clean. I nabbed a couple spoons, sat down with Heather, and dug in.
"Should we... really be doing this?" Heather asked me.
"Oh, don't worry. It's fine," I said. I handed her a spoon. She looked at me cautiously, then took it gently. With a welcome gesture from me, she took a spoonful and cooed at the flavor. I tried to remember what I overheard a couple weeks back.
"Tell me a little about yourself. Who is Heather?" I asked. And she told, bright and energetic like she had prepared this response for job interviews. She was going to school to be a vet. She loved dogs, had a black lab that passed away two years prior. She loved to paint and watch superhero films. Most passionately, she was getting ready to move in with her boyfriend.
"Wow, you must be excited," I said, taking another spoonful. In reality I had never really dated anyone; I've had some hookups in the past, but not one guy stuck around past that first night. I was envious of Heather, but also glad for her. It seemed whoever this guy was, he really wanted to make her happy. "He's studying physics. I'm studying microbiology. One day we're going to change the world."
I don't know what I felt right then. It wasn't hate or love, or jealousy or pride. It was something more neutral, but also more focused. I understood what Heather's stories meant to her, even though they really didn't meant shit to me.
"You know, Heather, this is about as close to friendship as I've ever had. Normally when I talk to people, they're guarded. It's like they see me as their boss. I mean, I'm just a person, right?" Heather nodded a little. Ice cream dripped down to my sweatshirt and I didn't notice until I saw Heather avoiding it with her eyes. I quickly rubbed the spot with a napkin, but that just smeared the caramel around.
"I suppose that's true. Supervisors are people too," Heather said.
"Well, I'm not your supervisor, so that's one less hurdle," I said.
She cocked her head to one side. "Of course you are. Aren't you? You told me to come with you, and here we are."
"Oh, no. I don't actually work here," I said in that same tone I'd used a million times. "Do I seriously look like I do?" I said with a laughing pinch of sarcasm, lifting my sweatshirt to show off the new stain.
"I mean.... You're the boss," she shrugged. "No one's going to say anything. They might be a little... judgey... but...." she stopped talking, thinking she might have said too much.
"But I'm *not* the boss," I said firmly. "I just came in for ice cream. Why don't you believe that?"
I watched as a loop formed in her brain. I'm the boss, but I'm telling her I'm not the boss. But I'm the boss. But I'm not the boss. I'm the boss.
I'm the boss.
Something inside me pinged like an oven timer. That thing I never got was just waiting for me to open the door and indulge.
"Does... does this count as my break?" Heather asked.
"No, honey. No it doesn't. Take the rest of the day off. Spend some time with that boyfriend of yours. If anyone gives you grief, I'll be back tomorrow and sort it out. But for now I need to think over some things."
She thanked me and left. I stood and stared at my spoon. In its sugary reflection I saw a glimmer of of something new. I put down the spoon and left the tub on the table. I suppose I could have *not* been an asshole and left it for someone to clean up, but in the moment I needed to test something.
The big box store was in a lot surrounded by small shops, restaurants, and a movie theater. I ducked into the neighboring store, some a baby clothes place I had never even notice before, and bought the first thing I could grab, a cute little "I'm with my moms" keychain. The clerk eyed me up and down and rang it up with a raised eyebrow. I didn't care, It was the receipt I was interested in.
"Employee discount- 25%." I muttered. "Huh."
I visited lots of other stores that day and tried the same thing. Everyone gave me the *employee* discount. Not some random "you smell nice" discount, or a "you're pretty" discount, or some imagined social thing. Everyone, *everyone*, thought I was an employee. *Their* employee.
|
“Mr. President,” the Secretary says “are you okay?”
I look to her direction. She stares right at me. I nod my head and smile. The truth is, I’m not the president and I can explain it by going back to yesterday.
I woke up and went downstairs to grab some milk and make toast. I was out of both. I got dressed in a blue shirt with black sweatpants and drove to Target. I was browsing the aisle when a woman with her child came up to me.
“Hello, I have a complaint. My daughter’s bike broke yesterday and I want it fixed now.” She demanded.
“I don’t work here” I replied.
“Uh do you think I’m stupid? You obviously work at target. Now get me your manager!”
I decided to leave her when all of a sudden an employee encountered me.
“Hey buddy, there’s a spill in the school supplies area. Can you clean it up?” He asked.
It was weird having an employee talking to me as if I was another employee.
“I don’t work here.” I replied.
“That’s BS, you do work here.”
I just left him and went to the self checkout because I didn’t want to gamble on other employees. When I went to leave the manager grabbed my shoulder.
“Leaving so soon? Your shift isn’t over.” She told me.
I just wanted to get out of there so I dashed out and headed for my car. The manager was yelling at me and saying I was fired. I went home and decided to try something out.
I grabbed a white shirt and a sharpie. I wrote “I do not work here, I am unemployed.”
I went to the nearest mall and went to every store. To my surprise, people still confused me for an employee with one employee even stating that my shift was in 5 minutes. I had an idea. I would dress up as the president and go to the White House.
I grabbed a ticket after bickering with the woman at the flight desk for a ticket and explaining that I wasn’t an employee. I went on the flight and argued with all the flight attendants that I don’t work on airlines.
It was late and I was prepared. I had bought a hotel room online and all I had to do was go to self check in. I slept and was awakened by a maid.
“You need to work not sleep in rooms.” She told me while being angry.
I was so annoyed with this that I just dashed out. I went to the White House as soon as possible. I climbed the fence and went straight for the whites house. Everyone looked calm and thought I was a bodyguard. I went inside and waited for the president to leave his chair. The president needed to go to the bathroom and the secretary went outside to smoke. I dashed for the chair and sat down. The secretary came inside. I started giggling uncontrollably.
“Mr. President,” the Secretary says “are you okay?”
I look to her direction. She stares right at me. I nod my head and smile.
She pulls out a gun and five other men come inside too.
“We’re tired of your socialistic ideas and your dictator like styles. It’s time you pay. If you stand up for call for backup then we will kill you. Do as we say, veto the bill you have.”
I grabbed the veto stamp and stamped the bill. As I did it the president walked in.
“Wait what?” The secretary questioned, “No one had the door blocked? Wait hold on. Two presidents! Which one is the real one.”
“I’m the fake” I told her.
“Yeah and I’m the real one, why is there an imposter as president?” The president questioned.
The president died. I jumped out the window and landed on my head.
I woke up. I sighed in relief. I looked at the tv. President shot to death. I realized I was in a hospital. A doctor walked in.
“Why are you wearing the patient’s clothes? Go out there and treat patients.”
| 2018-08-12T19:01:05 | 2018-08-12T18:03:34 | 46 | 22 |
[WP] You work a self-sufficient desk job in an office. Every single day, the co-workers in your neighboring cubicles are completely different people. Even though you never recognize them, they always recognize you. After years you've just accepted this, but lately the strangers are getting weirder.
|
I love my job. I love the hours. The pay is good. It is not a long commute. I can take the light rail and it drops me off outside my tower. I work on the sixteenth floor. I like to take the stairs up. It is good exercise. Taking the stairwell is sort of a ritual for me. It let’s me prepare for work. It’s not the job that bothers me. It is a good easy job. It is the people. You see, I am kind of scared of people.
I’m at the sixteenth floor and I stand there, breathing, preparing myself. I open the door and walk in. It is quiet inside I take off my trenchcoat and fold it in my arm. My briefcase is sagging heavy in my hand after the sixteen floors. I am still wet from the rain I walked through to get to work. I like the rain. Sometimes I think I’ll move to Seattle.
I step up to the refrigerator and place my lunch in there. A man is there waiting for coffee to brew. He is staring at the coffee as it crackles and sizzles in the little machine and drops to the bottom of the carafe.
“Hey James,” the man says. “Another Monday, huh?”
I nod at him as I set my tinfoil covered sandwich on the third shelf. I see small pails with names on it: Sarah, Larry, Carl, Johnson—I recognize none of the names.
I walk past the man at the coffee station. “Have a good day, James.” He says.
“You too,” I say back to him. I don’t know his name and I’m too scared to ask.
I place my briefcase down at my desk and then place my trenchcoat on my hanger.
“Is that you, James?” I hear a voice on the other side my cubicle.
I steady my breath.
“Yes, it’s me,” I call out over the wall.
“How was your vacation?”
“Fine,” I say. “Just relaxed.”
“Ah, that’s good. Always good. We missed you here.”
I don’t recognize the voice. I’ve never recognized anyone in my office. On my first day I was walked around and introduced to everyone. They were all so great and friendly. And the second day they were all so great and friendly again, but they were different people. Yet they acted like they all knew me. It’s been like that every day since.
Maybe I’m going insane. But I’ve learned to live with it. Learned to accept the menagerie of new faces that surround me every day.
I sit down at my desk and turn my computer on. The fan begins to buzz as the computer kicks to life.
“Where’d ya go, James?” I heard a voice above me. I look up and a woman—middle aged, wrinkly skin, red lip stick, curled hair, golden-hooped earrings—was looking down on me from over the cubicle wall. She was trying to hold herself up by her two arms and seemed to be struggling at it. She was resting her weight on chin. I don’t recognize the lady at all.
“Oh, nowhere. Just stayed home and watch some movies and read some books.”
“That’s good, James. You really needed a break. I’m glad you took one.” Her words come out struggled as she is still holding herself up on the flimsy cubicle wall. The wall shakes as she shifts her weight. A pen on my dry erase board falls and I reach to grab it.
“Sorry about that, James,” she says through clenched teeth.
“No worries.”
She lets go of the wall and falls to the ground. I hear a couple of pictures get knocked to the ground on her side. I hear one break and I hear her yell out. I step across to her cubicle quickly and see she’s cut her hand on one of the pictures.
“Are you, okay?” I say.
“Ah, you’re so sweet James. But it’s nothing, just a small cut.”
I look at her hand and its sliced deep up the side and up her wrist and blood is coming out at an alarming rate.
“Jesus,” I say. “That looks really bad.”
She pulls her hand up to look at it, the blood drips down onto her elbow and then pools in stalactices and drips onto the tiled carpet.
“Nah, it’ll stop in a minute. It’s fine. You’re so sweet, James. You’ve always been such a caring person.”
“I can call someone real quick if you’d like.”
She waved her hand as though I was being unreasonable, the blood spraying out in a rooster tail from her fingers. “Nonsense,” she said. “I’m fine…oh!” she looked down and grabbed the picture out of the shards of glass. It was a picture of her in a bright yellow two-piece bathing suit. She was much younger in the picture and she was in the arms of a man in a tanktop and tiny black shorts who was holding her up with his arms and smiling at the camera. The ocean was in the background. She had her arms around the man and kissing his bearded face.
“My husband,” she said, touching the man’s bearded face, smearing the blood over the glossy film. “Well I guess I’ll just need to get a new frame,” she said, placing the picture on her desk, smearing more blood on the white tops.
She bent over to grab the pieces of glass.
“No, no, let me do that,” I said. “Bending over too.”
“Absolutely not, James. You have the monthly report due to Karen today. I know you’re busy. Vacation is never a real vacation. Our work doesn’t go on vacation with us, does it?” She sat there smiling at me vacantly, the blood dripping with a soft tinkle onto a shard of glass on the floor. “Now get back to work mister,” she said. Grabbing the shard of glass with her hand and tossing it into the bin. I saw she was cutting her hands more grabbing the glass.
I turned, took a deep breath and walked back to my desk. She was right, I had a lot to do.
\---
*I'd like to do a Part II, but pretty busy right now, unfortunately.*
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
|
The stranger in front of me suggests that I should join the Golf club. I’m just sipping my coffee and nodding occasionally to pretend like I’m agreeing with him. Not that I hate him but I would like to separate my private life from my work life. His name was Richard or Ricky or something like that and he usually hangs around with the blonde woman who always laughs despite the seriousness of the topic.
I only recognise our boss Jonathan for obvious reasons and for some weird reason I haven’t seen him since I got promoted by him.
A few weeks later, I see the same guy who likes golf but this time he has a tennis ball in his hand he is throwing against the wall and catching it. It gets really hard for me to focus while he is bouncing the ball and I politely ask him to stop.
''No problem big man.'' He says.
As I head back to my cubicle I see the same blonde woman from yesterday looking at her screen like she is shocked. I decide to ignore it but she calls my name, I sigh and I stop.
''Do you believe this?'' She points to her computer screen.
''Believe what?'' I try to look at the screen and I just see a strange language and a bunch of numbers mixed together.
''Here. It says we are 25.4 percent gold.'' She says with an excited voice.
That doesn’t make sense I say in my head but ''It’s good.'' I say out loud to keep the conversation shorter and I turn around but she holds my left arm.
''You remember me, right?''
''Of course, I remember you.''
''They named me Matilda but I’m golden. So are you.''
I nod and I go back to my cubicle.
The next day I use my headphones to keep people out of my cubicle. If they want to ask me something they need to be very persuasive.
But seems like the power of the headphones are completely useless against my co-workers. Matilda standing in front of me and waving her hand to draw my attention. I wait at least 30 seconds but she doesn’t give up.
''What do you want, Matilda?'' I ask.
''The boss needs you.'' She says.
''Jonathan? I’m coming.'' I say and I leave my headphone on my desk and I head towards his office.
For some reason, Matilda comes with me and she can’t just stop giggling and as I reach for the door handle Matilda laughs very loud.
''What the hell is wrong with you?'' I turn back and I ask her.
She continues to laugh and I hear the office door opening behind me and someone grabs my right arm and pulls me in.
----------------------------------------
*Thank you for reading the story. I have been practicing my English by writing fiction and I'm open to feedback.*
| 2021-02-23T07:32:05 | 2021-02-23T06:50:58 | 94 | 61 |
[WP] A completely ordinary guy becomes a superhero by his own choice and his parents are still alive. Also he has no love interest.
|
Mara could not figure the hero out.
A man, a hero, was tied in front of her. When her minion dragged his unconscious body over to her lair, she thought those idiots got the wrong guy. In the middle of China Town Philadelphia, they just dragged an average Chinese man who blended the most on the background. If she didn't see his face before she would have dumped him in the river long ago.
His face was pleasant but ordinary. Skin like smooth latte. High cheekbones. Almond eyes. The works. His body was fit, but also average. No hypermasculine muscles. He bled out of his forehead an ordinary blood. As he sat, bound, his breathing was slow like a soundless sleep. His face was harmless and hopeful. Mara felt her breath caught.
As she watched, he slowly opened his eyes.
"Hello?" He said. He sounded like someone who took your call at some financial firm. Pleasant, lighthearted, and forgettable. His smile had the same characteristics.
"Joseph Chen," Mara tasted his name with her tongue. Bland but soft and silky, like rice, "it's delicious to meet you."
"How may I help you?" He said, as if he was at the assistant's desk, which was his day job.
"I want a reason you have been stopping us."
He smiled at her. A sheepish, polite smile one saw when walking pass a cubicle, "villains like you are hurting a lot of people. They need to be stopped."
Mara tilted her head and smiled. She wanted to kill him-- to stop it all, but he was so ordinary, and in the superhero and villain's world, ordinary was fascinating. "You. You don't even have superpower. I don't know how you can take down villains like that. People push themselves to greatness always have darkness behind them," she considered for a moment, "let me guess, a villain kill your parents?"
Chen arched his eyebrows, "no, they are alive and well in ..." he said a name of a country. It was one of those in the East. Mara didn't know where it was on the map and forgot it right away, but she remembered it had some good Asian food. He said some nonsense about how super villains were magically bound to a few countries in the world and would forget about the existence of other countries in a blink... What was he talking about again? Man, he even sounded so boring Mara felt sleepy.
She shook the fog out of her head. "Very well then. You have a loved one you must protect? A girlfriend perhaps." Mara paused, considering, "a boyfriend?"
Chen shook his head. "Nah. No hope in the romance department. I'm just too shy to talk to girls, and they assume I'm kind of-- uh-- small. Nobody cared to find out. I'm not gay though, but gay men hit on me sometimes," he smiled that smile heterosexual men made when they said gay men hit on them sometimes: tight-lipped, eye-rolling, totally ego-maniacal smile.
Mara felt so bored. She wanted to kill the man but she was afraid boredom would get stuck to her clothes. Hopefully it wasn't transmittable. "Still, I feel darkness inside of you," she tried to stoke his ego. Maybe he would get interesting, "I feel you have a hidden power. A talent... Maybe you were chosen? Forced into this path against your will?"
The man shrugged, "nah, I decided it myself. What kind of passive person let others decide their faith? I wanted to be good. Hot. Maybe women would like me more."
Mara was no longer bored. She was disgusted. "What kind of thinking was that?"
"What? Women like powerful men right? Aggressive, powerful, rich, dangerous? They want an alpha! What's more alpha than a superhero?"
She shook her head, "you should be forever alone," she backed away from him slowly, "you should be alone until a cat eats your face."
Faster than Mara could blink, Chen stood up. The knot had been loosen long before. He charged at her, bringing her to the ground, and pulled out a knife from his loafer. He held it just under Mara's chin. "I was going to do that."
Mara fought wildly, but her power was in guile and tricks and passion. Her power was in desire and love and sex. And the man on top of her did not want that. His only aim was for revenge.
"I was going to let Tabatha eat my face after I die alone. But a villain killed her. And now you, all of you, have to pay the price." He whispered. His hand and breath was so steady.
That was when Mara knew, this capture was by design. He planned everything.
Then there was a sharp pain and darkness.
|
Some people become heroes because they're traumatized by some event in their past. Others feel their powers make them responsible for solving the world's problems.
Dave however, was just bored.
No job, no girlfriend, no responsibilities of any kind, dave just lived day-to-day mooching off of various welfare systems and generally being a detriment to society.
But then one day he got into a fight with some gang members in his area and learned two things about himself: He could handle himself fairly well in a fight, and there was nothing he loved more than the adrenaline of a good brawl.
He did some research and found that through clever abuse of militia laws, he could fight gangs all he wanted and the cops couldn't touch him. After all, gangs were organizations who swore oaths to oppose the government, that techncially made them enemy combatants.
One trip to wally-world later and Dave had a decent enough costume, and began his one-man crusade to clean up his city. There where some tight scrapes, but soon every hoodlum in town knew to guy in the blue morphsuit was to be feared.
Legitimate superheroes call him a lunatic. They're probably right, but Dave's adrenaline addiction has done more to take criminals off the streets than any government system. He may be entirely self serving, but Dave gets results.
| 2018-06-15T05:02:32 | 2018-06-15T03:43:59 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] You are a part of the middle generation on a colony ship. You never saw Earth and will not see your destination.
Would you do what's best for the colony you would never see for a planet you never knew?
|
I'm still trying to figure out whether this revolution is really new, or whether it's all been done a thousand times before.
"Remember, folks, you're doing it for your children." Mr. Chipper, the smartly dressed, silver-haired motivational speaker spoke through the console on my wall. My fingers moved a little bit faster, as if the speaker had some kind of subliminal effect in spite of my absolute resentment for him on a conscious level.
Mr. Chipper was one of the Originali. An original human being frozen for the long journey to mankind's next destination. They thawed him out because of the economic slump of 3008. You see, this ship's engines are powered by economy. The Adam Smith Drive, they call it, it's what made interstellar travel realistic in the first place. But it ain't easy. Billions of men and women like myself are called for to slave away to keep the engine running.
"Hey Baloney, wanna grab a bite?" It was Cheryl, my designated life partner. Now I know what you're thinking, and let me put a stop to that right off the bat. This wasn't no pre-arranged marriage or anything like that. Cheryl was assigned to me, but I wasn't assigned to her, at least not exclusively. That's all part of how they grease the wheels of this miserable economy. Three men assigned to every woman and we all had to fight over her. Cheryl was currently hooked up with Chad, who had clawed his way into a management position above me, may he freeze to death in a vacuum. If I wanted to dislodge her from him, I'd have increase my rank in the company, and fast.
"Man, fuck all this noise," I said, walking along the avenue with her. To emphasize my point I swung my cane at the window of a clothing shop, showering the mannequins with a rain of glass. Cheryl giggled.
"Come on Baloney," she said, "it's not all that bad. You've got a nice office job, air conditioning and everything. You can look at pretty girls on the 'chans while Chad's got me pinned down."
Just then a fancy black car screeched to a stop beside us. "Hey baby," it was Chad, with that obnoxious polo shirt of his. "Baloney, get lost. Better yet, get to work on the deliverables, I'm moving the deadline up a week." Cheryl gave me this smile that was half longing, half pity, and waved goodbye as she climbed into the car, via the driver's side door, climbing over Chad's lap in the process. My fists trembled as I watched them tear away.
Cell phone to my ear. "Baloney??" It was my buddy Hikki Komori, officially one of my competitors for Cheryl's hand but he was harmless, a social dropout, he lived on welfare and never left his room. "Hey man, what's up, you thought about what I said?"
"Yeah Hikki," I said, clenching and unclenching my fist. "Fuck this gay ship. Let's do it." Hikki had come up with a scheme to knock out Chad and make a considerable deal of money in the process, but he needed my help, and it was highly illegal. If we were caught, they'd make the both of us spend the rest of our lives chipping ice at Siberia Module.
"This is it," Hikki pressed a 3.5" floppy into my hand. His eyes looked bloodshot, his skin was pale, Hikki had really deteriorated since the last time I'd seen him. If this plan didn't go through, he might just turn into a ghost, haunting the 'chans for all time, I loved Hikki, I didn't wanna see that happen to him.
"How does it work exactly," I slipped the disk into my coat's inner pocket.
"It disconnects you from the internet while it brute forces the bank password, that way they can't detect all the failed attempts," he said. "Good luck Baloney, and remember. If it works, I get her on Tuesdays."
Back at the office I let out a sigh. Chad hadn't been kidding, the secretary had deposited a fresh stack of memos about the deliverable on my desk. "Perk up, kiddo," said Mr. Chipper, "Think about your grandchildren, kicking a pigskin around in genuine sunlight, beneath a statue of the great pilgrim Baloney!" The last word, my name, was recorded in a different octave than the rest, God, I hate these new personalized motivationals.
"Hope you know what you're doing, Hicky," I said, putting the disk in my tower. An MS-DOS window popped on the screen but then closed too quick to tell what it did. Then, the internet connectivity indicator went red, and up on the wall, Mr. Chipper flickered out. "Huh, if you'd told me about that side effect, I'd've signed on a long time ago, Hicky."
A popup appeared, showing the different passwords that were being tried against the banking portal, passwords rushing by in a blur. If the activity were being reported, the cops would kick the door in in about two seconds. I glanced at the door. Tensed up as I heard some footsteps, but it was just an intern walking past. Hooooly, is this actually gonna work?
And then I was in. Sweet mother of Jesus, I love you Hicky! Let's see, Chad Chadderton... Chad Chadderton... Hey, what's this folder? This looks interesting...
Fast forward two hours. Neighbors looking at me nervously as I pound on Hikki's door. Finally he opens it, fumbling with his trousers. "What's up man, did it work," as I'm pushing my way in.
"Hikki," I said, "forget about Cheryl, this is more important." I shoved the printouts into his hands, then collapsed on his Sakura-chan beanbag chair, resigned.
"So..." Hikki was flipping through the papers. "It's true then. I never thought it could be true... Baloney, I hoped I'd never have to resort to these measures, but I did have a plan in case this was how it was."
"A plan!" I said, rhetorically, fingernails gouging into the Sakura-chan's bikini. "They're gonna snuff us out, man! Grandchildren, schmandchildren! You, me, Cheryl, Chad... All of us, wiped out just as soon as the decade's up, and replaced by clones to start all over. And when the ship does arrive at Centauri, if ever, then the Originali will be thawed out and all of you and I and everyone we know, will be burned with the ship." Among other things, it implied that the fight over Cheryl had all been done before, it was all predetermined. We were all just spinning our wheels for nothing. "Hicky, I love you, man, but how in the name of Jobs are you supposed to 'plan' for something like that?"
"Baloney," he tossed a big heavy vest at me, turned around wearing one of his own, and some snappy shades. "Now that we've got into the system, we can find where the clone-vats are kept. We can find where the Originali are frozen. I've got three hundred Breiviks of explosives here." He slipped on an old 20th century biker helmet and flipped down the visor. "Let's go give this precious economy of theirs a little 'bump'."
|
My alarm clock woke me up from my dream. I dreamed of stable ground. Not the one we have down in the lowest levels, I dreamed of properly solid, stable ground that belongs to a planet, just like the ground that we have all seen in The Book. I was talking to my mum and she had to explain how digging worked because I couldn't grasp the concept. We were digging and digging, bringing hidden layers of sand to the very top. I was overjoyed at the thought that it would never end, but soon my fingers hit a solid wall. I digged deeper, my nails scratched the metal surface, making an unpleasant sound. Then I woke up.
I quickly got dressed and left my cubicle. I saw my neighbour, Abril, wave at me as I was locking the door. She must have learned from the base I only had a few reproductive months left and still haven't found a bearer. Well, she wasn't that young either. Maybe I should go at it? Would she be offended if I fathered another link with another bearer? This was the sad reality of many guys that were over 24. Plus, I admit, she was kind of hot. I caught myself winking at her. Oh boy, now we definitely have to do that. Maybe it will be better than the last time and she won't accuse me of being an infertile traitor.
What the hell, I thought and waved to Abril. Let's get this child duty thing done with.
My shift started at 8, but I got a bit lost in my own thoughts on the way to work. I came only 3 minutes. I arrived only 3 minutes late, but Detroit was already waiting at the door.
"Finally!", he exclaimed. "It's been running for 2 minutes without my supervision, so drag your lazy ass back there real quick."
We both knew nothing was gonna happen with The Engine in 2 minutes, Detroit was just a bitch.
"Sorry, I was targeting a bearer", I said apologetically.
"Whoa, at last! You should have made at least 3 links by now, how old are you, like 25?"
"Well... I just couldn't bring myself to it earlier," I sighed. Detroit was 20 and had sired at least 4 links that we know of. He was the role model for all men on The Ship. "Maybe I'm just trying to even out the excess that you made."
He chuckled. "Yeah right. Or rather still trying to get over
that crazy girl that jumped out. Oh, don't act surprised", he rolled his eyes, seeing my reaction. "Everyone knows. Come on man, let go. She just thought too much. Don't let it get to you."
I stared blankly at the floor. It resembled the metal bottom I was scratching in my dream. Detroit patted me on the shoulder and left. I opened the door to the engine room and felt an overwhelming heat wave hitting me immediately.
The procedure went as usual. I logged in, took my shirt off not to fry alive, started the cool down. Initiate the cool down again in 15 minutes. It was a dull job, but it gave me a good social status and quite a lot of free time in between cool down Nevertheless, it was vital to keep The Ship going. If I abandoned my post, then...
Yeah, what then? Would I doom the humanity? Would I be just like Anita, jumping out but with a blast? Would it be a mere disturbance? Would they detain me? Or did I indeed have more power over our fate, just like she insisted?
Last time we talked she said she was tired of being nothing more than a carer of proper DNA. That it didn't make sense. That we shouldn't have survived anyway. That we are never going to make it. That we are only tools.
The cool down lamp started blinking. The hot room, illuminated only by a couple of small light bulbs and the blinking warning lamp seemed more like hell than ever.
Maybe she was right? Why am I even doing that? Nothin' there for me. We do not deserve it. I heard the stories that were not written in The Book. I know they were true. We are only a danger.
The lamp blinked persistently. I tried ignoring it. I thought of her.
I initiated the procedure again.
| 2015-04-15T14:08:20 | 2015-04-15T13:45:29 | 403 | 59 |
[WP]The heroes confront you with the legendary mystical weapon that can defeat you. Unbeknownst to them, it's actually the one thing you needed to conquer the world. You were having trouble finding it, so you started the legend of the weapon yourself, to get some poor schmuck to find it for you.
|
“Behold,” I roared, unwrapping the cloth from the Spear, “the Spear of All!”
The Spear of All was the Dark Lord’s bane. I had heard it from a man in dark robes and hood in a tavern about a year ago. The man had whispered the story to me, the Hero, after I had gotten outrageously drunk and publicly bemoaned my fate. How was I, a beautiful 18 year old man, supposed to defeat a 2000 year old ugly, evil wizard-lizard? And then came the hooded man. I remembered that night how the Hero always has a way to defeat the Dark Lord.
“Hehehe,” cackled the Dark Lord, rubbing his scaly hands together.
I faltered, the tip of the Spear of All dropping slightly.
“Why do you laugh so, fiend?” I cried, the jewels on the hilt of the Spear glistening. Torches of darklight glowed menacingly on the stone walls around me.
“Er. I mean, no!” hissed the Dark Lord, flinching and shying away on his Throne of Skulls. “Not the Spear of All! Anything but that! Ah!”
I nodded, pleased. “Yes, that is more like it!” I shouted heroically, striking a pose. I snapped the back of my cloak back, but unfortunately there was no wind to catch it. Still, I looked good. Lesson One of being a Hero: look good while doing the job.
“How did you discover my one true weakness?” wailed the Dark Lord, his snake-eyes full of fear. “The Spear of All was supposed to be lost in time and space!”
I used my Hero laugh, which was quite lower and deeper than my actual voice.
“You were wrong, Dark Lord!” I said, pointing the Spear at the wizard-lizard with one trembling arm. It was quite heavy. I set it back down on the ground.
“You see,” I continued, “the Spear of All will reveal itself to the chosen Hero. That was your fatal mistake, Dark Lord! You have never considered me the Hero, and now look at me. Look at me! I found it after months and months of hard trials, pain, loss of friends, and more.”
In reality, I paid a bunch of mercenaries to go through the effort of finding the thing and getting it for me, but that’s what Daddy’s coin was for, right? But I went with them! It was true that only the Hero could find the Spear.
The Dark Lord made a noise that sounded like restrained laughter, but must’ve been squeals of fear and regret.
“I see now I have gravely misjudged you,” said the Dark Lord gravely. “For you to have found the Spear… you are truly a worthy Hero.”
I blushed before remembering this was my nemesis.
“But!” said the Dark Lord, raising a crooked finger. “How do I know that’s really the Spear of All? I mean, for all I know, that could just be a great imitation.”
“Observe!” I said, raising the Spear into the air. “Huzzah!” I cried.
From the tip of the Spear came a kaleidoscope of wonderful lights. Then, it stopped. That was about all I could do with the weapon, but I wasn’t worried. I’m sure it was poisonous to the Dark Lord or something like that.
“Wow,” said the Dark Lord. “Very impressive.”
Were I not so smart and attractive, I would be sure the Dark Lord was mocking me.
Suddenly, he rose up from his Throne, and climbed down the steps made of human bones. The Dark Lord was easily 10 feet tall, but I wasn’t afraid. Not even a little. Nope. Why was I backing up? Because… because I’m the Hero and I wanted to, that's why!
The Dark Lord stopped in front of me. I heroically kept him at bay with the Spear that was definitely not shaking. Damn, why did this thing have to be so heavy?
“So, here we are,” said the Dark Lord, staring down at me. “Hero and Dark Lord together at last.”
I nodded, trying to ignore the sweat on my face and the urge to pee in my pants.
“Here we are,” I squeaked, then cleared my throat. “Here we are,” I rumbled in my Hero voice.
“This is the part where I give you one last chance to switch sides and join me,” said the Dark Lord.
“Do… do you offer me that choice?” I asked.
“Hmm,” said the Dark Lord, tapping his foot. “Do I?”
Like a snake striking, his hand snapped out and grabbed the Spear from my hand. I screamed and fell back. The Spear elongated in the Dark Lord’s hand, until it was 12 feet tall and thick as my thigh.
There really was only one option for me.
“Mercy!” I cried, kneeling and shaking. “Mercy, Dark Lord, please!”
“Ahhh,” said the Dark Lord, admiring the Spear of All in his hand. I had to admit he looked quite good with it, and I knew a lot about looking good. His body glowed with a horrible energy. The Spear’s gold handle and emerald tip turned into all black. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
The Dark Lord raised the Spear and the roof of his Fortress melted away like soft cheese in my mouth. Mhm. I was hungry.
“Mercy,” I begged again, crawling forward, kissing the Dark Lord’s scaled feet. “Mercy, O Great One!”
The Dark Lord sighed. “Do you promise to never betray me and to follow all my commands and to unleash evil onto the world?” he asked in a monotonous tone.
“Yes, yes, and yes!” I said, tears streaming down my gorgeous, high cheekbones.
“I guess you did bring me the Spear,” muttered the Dark Lord. He sighed again, then gestured for me to stand.
“Go,” said the Dark Lord. “Go and spread the word that the Dark Lord is coming, and his wrath shall be unending. Flee as the people might, it means not. The end times are here.”
“Very good, very good my Lord,” I said, bowing and bending.
The Dark Lord shot off into the open air in an arrow of dark smoke.
I stood up, sighing with relief, then left. It was time to get some dinner. Mhmm… cheese.
Lesson two of being a Hero: always live to fight another day.
---
Check out my profile for more :D
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The adventurers gathered around the dark lord Grylinok, whom had almost conquered the kingdom of Syranor. "It is over Grylinok!" One of the adventurers stepped forward. "Your reign of terror will finally come to an end now that we have obtained the Greatblade of Fate and The Staff of Xylosa!" Another adventurer approached holding a strange rod covered in runic symbols. 'Five adventurers' Grylinok thought to himself 'The two at the front have the Artifacts of Zyron.' An archer stood behind him with an arrow drawn aimed at his back. 'The other two are of no threat to me.' Grylinok began laughing maniacally.
"You truly believe that silly legend?" Grylinok asked the adventurers mockingly. The archer fired his arrow to no avail, Grylinok dashed towards the archer and snapped his bow in half. The adventurer with the Greatblade of Fate quickly swung at Grylinok's back but Grylinok easily evaded the attack. "You don't even know how to wield the power that weapon possesses, allow me to show you!" Grylinok shouted and disarmed adventurer, the moment Grylinok gained possession of the Greatblade of Fate reality began to shift and break around him. The adventurers began to tremble in fear. "What is going on?!" The wizard screamed out, he began channeling the energy of the Staff of Xylosa into a single point and released a blast that obliterated the terrain around it. Grylinok swung his newly acquired sword through the air and the energy blast disappeared. He swung again and all of the adventurers teleported together, and with a final swing the energy blast reemerged and blasted the adventurers.
All the adventurers were groaning on the ground in pain, Grylinok walked towards the wizard and picked up the staff which now lay rolling on the floor. He ripped the gems out of the sword and staff and discarded the empty husks that were left behind. Grylinok held a blue gem as bright as the sky in one hand and a purple gem that gleamed as bright as a star in the other. The adventurers were wiped out and gave up all hope of victory. Grylinok pushed a button on a pedestal in the center of the room and 5 more pedestals raised in the shape of a pentagon. Three of the pedestals already had gems in them, Grylinok slotted the remaining two pedestals with the gems he had just aquired and slotted a 6th, colorless gem into the central pedestal. After pushing another button on the central pedestal all the gems began to glow, and the bright vibrant colors in each of them slowly faded out of them. The once colorless gem in the center of the room was now shining in all colors imaginable. Grylinok removed the gem from the central pedestal and slotted into his crown.
Unimaginable power began to flow through his body, "AT LONG LAST!" Grylinok screamed "I HAVE FINALLY OBTAINED GODHOOD!"
_____
Please have mercy I'm not that good at this.
| 2020-07-25T13:38:13 | 2020-07-25T10:09:48 | 219 | 116 |
[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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Representatives of the Earth, have again assembled with the War Council of the Garrux (the Mighty as he liked to remind everyone) and listened to platitudes exchanged between the Garrux and the diplomatic branch of the Earth's Representation. They seemed happy, in their eyes, the concessions were being made per the most optimistic simulations. Trade deals were being negotiated, civilian technologies planned to be exchanged, observation posts to be established. To an untrained eye, this was going great. Admiral Ivanov was ready to groan with a repressed frustration when finally his datapad beeped. Admiral smiled when he read the brief and showed it to general Smith next to him, general stirred from his near sleep-like state and read the brief as well, then he stood.
"Ladies and gentlemen, honored representatives of the Caralax brood, I am sorry to announce, that the conditions of the truce have been breached and the civilian negotiations are therefore suspended with immediate effect." When the general was finished he sat down to deafening silence and resumed his napping.
"You cannot be serious general, we are making great progress here, you must be mistaken." Snapped ambassador Harris, her face flushed, despite her effort to hide her frustration. This time admiral Ivanov replied.
"I am afraid, that there is no mistake, madame ambassador. While I am not at liberty to go into many details, I can say, that the stealth craft that has been nearing the Sol system for the past two months has launched a planetary annihilation charge."
"Stealth craft??? Annihilation charge??? What is the meaning of that??" madame ambassador turned to face Garrux "High Garrux, surely this must be some mistake? The deals we struck would be of great benefit to both our people surely this is some misunderstanding?"
"No misunderstanding," said the creature in the high chair and smiled "Caralax needs no deals. We shall take what we want, observe what we want, and we don't care for your technology. Ours' will triumph again."
Ambassador seemed to be ready to protest some more but, further talk has been stopped when her hologram disappeared, as well as the holograms of the rest of the diplomats. Only the military representatives remained. "Would you please explain what is going on Dimitri?" Asked the general "I am so disappointed I don't even want to talk to him."
"No need to explain anything," said Garrux "no need to talk at all."
"Give it ..." General looked at his watch "...10 more seconds."
"Garrux has no need to wait. Garrux..."
"5 seconds Garry"
"Garrux the mighty will enjoy ..." two beeps from Garrux's datapad stopped him from finishing the sentence.
"Let me guess," said the general "the charge has been destroyed and the ship that brought it has been destroyed a few moments after that?"
The silence stretched for a pregnant moment. "How?" Asked Garrux. Who just became a first Caralaxian in written history, who failed to annihilate a species after first contact.
"Honestly Garry," Started Dimitri "we were a little surprised as well. Let me start at the beging."
"About 150 years ago, or about 380 of your cycles ago physicist named Fermi, commented on an apparent paradox. Given how likely intelligent life is to happen and the scale of the universe. There should be plenty of intelligent life around us. But we couldn't see any. And it bugged us. So we kept looking and looking, improving our observation technology until suddenly we found life. To our surprise, it was hiding. We worked on it for many more years and every year we saw more. Until we finally saw how violent the galaxy is." So we watched some more and we learned how you treat the newcomers. So we kept watching and learning. Until finally we had no more to learn. Then we reached out."
"We know of all your 120 vessels with annihilation charges, and they will be destroyed once they cross the boundary of our solar system, but as far as we can tell, you don't know of our 50 ships on the high orbit of Caralax I." Spoke general and looked at now visibly nervous Garrux. "Look Garry, the civilian negotiation is over, and they will not open. The only deal you can now hope for is immediate non-conditional surrender."
"No, when two species meet, only one lives, this is a trick." Shouted Garrux.
"It is your prerogative to think that. But I am here to tell you, that we have no plans to destroy you because frankly, you don't present any threat to us. In 50 years, when you perfect your Droplet technology we might have to reevaluate, but right now we are projecting that you will blow yourself up in 10. But that is beside the point, we will not allow a species that is attempting to harm us to operate freely, BUT if you refrain from any hostile action, we will leave you alone."
"To sum it up for you Garry, you can now agree to cease all hostilities, and we will both leave each other alone. Or you can continue as you always have, and we will destroy you, so let me ask you is the war what you really want? Are you sure you want to do this?"
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Famous last words they said, my team beside me snickering at my brave words. We had researched the past events of this policy being enacted on young civilizations. Most asked for peace and died silently while Others begged for mercy to the same degree.
We humans had a plan to do the opposite as we have always done for centuries upon centuries we would resist we would fight like none before. I snap back to life and shutter as the lead Alien we had named the Yolarian responds to us in a gravelly deep growling voice. “This is a first in all our history of this policy that a bug has defied us”
Thats the rough translation anyways.
To my surprise they then backed off and left without a word. Perplexed my team and i stood there for almost an hour unsure on if they would return. Then it hit us as the blazing heat searing my face and hands my team screaming in pain. I thought in that instant that we failed to save the human race.
The figure was perplexing as it told its story We Yolarian wiped out that crew and for some reason it was here haunting this place. Telling its stories to any travelers that passed the mud ball once called earth by the humans. It enters Yolarian ships to repeat its story as we pass through. This is why we decided to leave the humans destruction incomplete i thought.
Thousands remain on the newly christened reserve the only ones allowed to survive a cleansing.
30 years later
The young Yolarian had learned much on that field trip to see the ghost of gamma squad that unknowingly saved their species. She learned compassion towards them and now works to bring them better rights in the galactic community. All thanks to that “ghost” in the machine.
| 2022-01-22T13:30:45 | 2022-01-22T09:41:11 | 49 | 22 |
[WP] In a world of monsters and heroes, you are a beloved servant/minion of an adventuring party. You cook dinners, do the laundry, and purchase the supplies. You also dabble in magic when no one is looking … and you’re pretty damned good at it.
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I do all the busy work. I keep the team fed and healthy. I keep the armor shiny and swords sharp. I purchase all the supplies needed. I also do magic. I’ve mastered fire magic and enhancements. I also keep this secret from the team. A healer with magic, let alone fire magic, would shake the world to its core. Healers don’t use magic in any form unless you count making medicine as magic. The team found out when Lance, our leader, was left badly injured after a long and brutal fight against the Prince of Shadows. He was lucky I was gathering herbs at the edge of the woods when he stumbled out and collapsed in front of me.
I rushed to his side. Just as I warned, the idiot had gone against the Prince of Shadows on his own. His silver armor was blackened in spots, but was undamaged. Lance was a redhead with golden eyes. He is the only full human on the team. Good. My defense enhancement had done its job. I sat him up and slipped under his arm, rising so he laid across my shoulders. I grabbed my bag with my teeth and started for camp. It does help being an Inu sometimes.
An Inu is a dog demon. I spend most of the time in dog form, pulling the wagon carrying our supplies. I use my human shape in towns and cities. It would be pretty alarming to see a white shepherd dog the size of a horse strolling into town.
Our camp was a 30 minute walk away by human feet. I made it back in five minutes. I sat down and let Lance slide down my back. He hit the ground with a pained yelp. I shifted into my human shape. The team does know I’m an Inu.
“You were warned!” I snapped, digging into the wagon for my medical bag. “You are so stupid! You are nowhere strong enough to take on the Prince of Shadows! Oh hey, Clara! Did you find the fairy mushrooms I asked for? How is the leg doing?” I pulled my bag out as I turned to the purple haired elven human hybrid archer.
Clara sighed. “He didn’t listen.” She handed over a brown bag. “I found mushrooms, but I’m not sure if they are the ones you want. My leg held up well. I bet I can start training again.”
“Light workouts first.” I knelt by Lance.
“I’m not getting any pain relief, am I?” Lance asked.
“Yep. I was out searching for Poppies to dry for their seeds, and since SOMEONE decided to do something stupid, I didn’t find any!” I stripped his armor off in a deft motion. “Yes, I’m mad before you ask!” His leather top shirt went next. “You are an idiot!” His white undershirt went next. “That’s pretty deep.” I dug into my bag. “Anyone see my dagger?”
Lance went white. I knew it wasn’t because of the blood loss from the large gash on his right side ether. He knew what I was planning to do.
“You mean this?”
I looked up and took my dagger. “Thank you, Arazel.”
The team consisted of five heroes. Lance was our leader. Next was Clara. Arazel was our half demon part elf part human hybrid. He inherited the white hair and red eyes of his demon species. Next was Kor, the demolition expert. An Ogre, he had black hair he hid under a cowboy hat and piercing green eyes. Finally there’s Dusty, the claustrophobic dwarf. Apparently he watched a human die while stuck upside down while other humans frantically dug to free them. Since that day, he refused to live inside the ancient underground kingdom of his people. Dusty was blond with blue eyes. He was skinny for a dwarf.
“My pleasure.” Arazel knelt beside me. “He did, didn’t he?” I nodded. “You idiot! The Prince of Shadows is way out of our league! Dusty, how’s the fire?”
“The flint broke becau-“ Dusty started.
“I did not step or sit on it! It broke beca-“ Kor interrupted.
“Because… Kor, why did it break again?”
“Oh forget it.” I pointed at the fire pit. Flame leapt to life at my command. I held my dagger into the fire. “He will need to be held down while I do this. Guys? Why is no one saying… Oh.” I turned. “We’ll talk after I deal with Lance.”
Kor knelt so he was on top of Lance’s legs. “Inu’s don’t normally have other magic other than their shifting ability.”
Clara and Dusty each held an arm.
“Inu’s can’t learn magic in the first place, right? Could you be a Yokai?”
The dagger was ready. “I’m fully Inu.” I slid the dagger into Lances wound. Lance screeched. I held the dagger in the fire again. “We can learn basic magic such as defense and attack spells. I swear I am not a Yokai.” I laid the dagger against the wound. Lance didn’t disappoint. This time his eyes rolled back and he passed out. Good. I pulled out a needle and thread, carefully stitching the wound shut. Done, I bandaged the wound.
|
It... it was just an experiment, i swear. First, i was bored. My party was on vacation, without me. That made me a bit angry, but i also feeled excited, cause i havent been alone for a long time.
So tried... magic. At first, only little things, like letting paper float. I moved on to greater things, when i mastered a spell. I lended books from old friends, i borrowed some from the local wise old man. My techniques got more advanced, the more i practised.
My party came back sooner than i expected, and it was a pain in the ass, to find good excuses for the spell-books in my room.
But i continued. My party went more often on adventures, to slay monsterbases or take an invaded town back.
I supported my party whenever it was possible; but always in the dark, so they wont find out. My daily routine was like following: making breakfast for my party, using spells to sort the dishes, doing the laundry and collecting my partys pyjamas. Making lunch packages for the next mission and learning the most difficult spell again. Cleaning the wounds and making dinner for my party. Bringing them to bed and train a new one.
My life is... was wonderful. I helped them, they helped me. Until they left me. From one day to another they disappeared, the only thing left was a letter. It said, that i was too useless for them, too weak, too *normal*.
I was hurt and mad. They wouldve never come that far, if i wasnt there!
Months passed, and i finally found my former party. In the meantime, i became... dangerous. I learned the dark magic, unholy powers.
Now they will see, what happens, if you reject your housekeeper for such a stupid reason. Its time for revenge...
| 2021-06-21T01:26:56 | 2021-06-21T01:02:08 | 29 | 18 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :)
|
“GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do.
|
They mocked me. Laughed at me. Of course I had to be the one who played Cities:Skylines last. My superpower? The amazing ability to cut through government red tape and expedite municipal construction projects.
For the first time, parks were being built, streets were being paved, and businesses were moving in, all on time and on budget. I could even terraform to a limited degree. If I lowered the terrain in the area I would have to raise it elsewhere. I only had a limited amount of dirt I could keep suspended in my pocket universe you see.
I had complete dictatorial control of the city. Taxes went up and down as I wished. I raised taxes temporarily to generate huge influxes of cash so often I lost count, and I had no elections to fear.
But the others laughed. "Have fun with your budgets!" They'd say, sneering. But little did they know I'd have the last laugh. A lot of them still drove. Their characters weren't superheroes, not most of them. Imagine their surprise when I showed up to their city and started redirecting lanes. The look on solid snake's face when I directed his turn lane to the far lane on the highway so everybody had to cut across three lanes. He sat there, inching his way forward, starting listfully at the clear, open lane he found himself utterly unable to use. It was like the car was on a set of tracks.
I did it to them all. They wouldn't have laughed at me had they known I had installed the traffic manager mod.
| 2020-01-30T11:35:06 | 2019-08-12T00:11:35 | 1,281 | 40 |
[WP] You're underage and trying to use a fake ID to buy booze. Suddenly, someone walks into the liquor store and recognizes you...as your fake persona.
|
The cashier wasn't falling for my bull shit. I knew I should've let that patch of facial hair grow out. This was no easy run either. I was tasked with getting over $100 worth of booze! I was out of time.
As he began to speak, I slowly made for the exit. "Really, kid? Not only do you come into my store and try and break the law, but you come up with a name like Professor Wann T. Fa-...hey!"
Just as I reached for the door, a very odd looking man opened it from the outside. I stopped dead in my tracks at the sight of him. He was well over 7 feet tall, with stringy arms and an impossibly small torso. His skin was a pasty green color. This man couldn't have been human.
"Ah!" he said. His eyes shifted directly to mine. My body began to shake. "My goodness! It's been ages! How are you, Professor Fartenpuss?"
My fake I.D. name; how the hell did he know the name I had created just earlier that day? Astonished, I quietly replied, "Me? Are you..talking to me?"
"Well you are Professor Wann T. Fartenpuss, renown author of *The Genius' Guide to String Theory and Quantum Physics*, are you not?"
"I'm sorry," I said, "I think you have me confused with someone else." I then looked back at the cashier. His arms were crossed and head down, eyes up at me.
"I mean, yes! Of course I am Professor Fartenpuss. See, I thought you said 'Fartencuss.'"
The stranger looked around, then back at me. "Very well then! Say, hows your study on the multiverse theory coming along? Last I heard you had made a major breakthrough!"
Multiverse theory? What was he talking about? I was a 17 year old kid. I was barely passing Math. But I had to play along. I couldn't risk my cover being blown. "Why yes, I have indeed. HUGE breakthrough! I'm sorry, could you remind me again of your name? I'm terrible with names."
"Oh, certainly. I'm Dr. Michael Oxtinx. I attended several of your seminars a few years ago. I must say you were brilliant. My favorite theory of yours was how when we travel through alternate timelines, our conscious minds never notice, and that we're constantly traveling in and out of endless timelines. Astonishing, really!"
The cashier was now focused on the strange being. "Wait a minute, you mean to tell me that you know this kid? And that he's a famous professor who's written books? No way. I don't believe it."
The alien looked up at him. "Pardon me sir, but have you read any of this man's work? He truly is brilliant, no matter what age he appears to be."
I had never been flattered by an alien before.
"In fact," continued the alien, "I happen to have a pocket copy of *The Genius' Guide to String Theory and Quantum Physics* here in my pocket." He pulled out what appeared to be a computer generated image made up of blue pixels and plopped it on the counter in front of the cashier. "Read this," he said, "you won't regret it."
As I inspected the item closer, I saw my face underneath the book's title, followed by, *by Professor Wann T. Fartenpuss.*
"Well, I don't care what he wrote. He's not walking out of here with any alcohol."
Damn.
Suddenly, the alien pulled out a 44 Magnum and pointed it at the cashier. "Perhaps this will change your mind."
"Woah man! Take it easy! Here!" he shouted. "He can have all the booze he wants. Just don't shoot!
The alien nodded at me, and I quickly picked up all the alcohol from the counter, and grabbed a few miniature bottles from the shelf.
"Thanks a lot!" I said to the alien, and ran out of the store.
"Anything for the wonderful Professor Wann T. Fartenpuss!"
|
Cashier: I don't know man... This just doesn't look right, *Andrew*...
Scott: seriously man??... We've already been over my address, date of birth and license number, what are you a cop?
DING
Brent: Ayyyo, an-DREEEEW!!!
Cashier: *huh...*
Brent: What's up my bruthaaa?! You going to the party again tonight??..
Scott: Tryin', but this asshole is questioning my face...
Cashier: that'll be $14.67...
| 2016-05-25T11:28:35 | 2016-05-25T08:14:54 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] One of the gods of your world has abdicated, and each of the others has nominated a mortal candidate for the position. You've been sponsored by the weakest of the gods, and while the others are being granted all sorts of powers for the tournament, all you've been given is an odd looking musket.
|
Cameron stared at the musket dangling on a string of gold. It was almost entirely wood, save for a few strips of shiny silver. Two cartoony, golden, almost plastic angel wings were attached near the barrel, like something from a children's toy.
She - her name, confusingly - pranced over to the gun, her hazy silhouette bobbing up and down. She, her face manifested as a minimalistic outline, gave Cameron a smile. "Thoughts?"
"It, um, what is it?"
"Your weapon!" She declared, smile forced wider.
"A musket?" Cameron glanced between She and her weapon. "Brandon was bragging about superspeed. Airi can make force fields-"
"Well we're on a budget." She grabbed the musket and thrust it into Cameron's arms.
"How am I supposed to-"
"Hold on, almost forgot the string," She said, snapping her fingers. The golden string unwound from the wooden beam above. A moment later, it whirled around the musket's wings, outlining the feathers. "Looks much better now, eh?"
Cameron bit his lower lip. "Yep, way better."
"Fantastic, I'm so glad you like it," She said. "Do you know how to shoot a musket?"
"I'm a carpenter."
"Yeah, yeah, but you could've had, like, a sharpshooting hobby, right?"
"No."
"Excellent." She paused. "Okay, Cameron, I'm gonna need you to trust me."
"Sure." As if he had a choice.
"Okay, so, I don't have a gun you can practice with."
"Right," Cameron said.
"And you can't practice with the musket."
"Can't practice with-" Cameron fiddled with his words. "I don't know how to shoot a gun. Aren't-" He paused. "Aren't muskets even more difficult to use than normal?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, definitely. But, um, well you should be fine," She said. "That string is lucky, understand? It'll help you out. Definitely. I spent all my Divinity on it, so it ought to be high quality."
Cameron gripped the musket.
"Don't worry, it's not like you'll *die*," She said, waving her hand. "Just pull the trigger once and BAM, you'll win in a jiffy."
\#
Brandon ran circles around the arena, only visible through brief flashes of light. Much to his sponsor's annoyance, he had decided taunting his enemies was more productive than ending the fight in a moment.
"Come on, shoot me! Try it!" Brandon said, laughing. His silhouette flashed around as Cameron tried to take aim.
"Just fire!" She called from the side.
"Oh, forget it," Cameron muttered. He pulled the trigger, aiming where he last saw Brandon's flash.
There was no thunder, bang, or fizz. The wings merely fluttered for a moment before falling off.
Brandon stopped to laugh. Cameron glanced at his opponent's sponsor, Orthun. He looked dead serious.
"YES!" She cried. Cameron looked to her, finding that she was jumping and waving her arms around, or at least as well as a humanoid haze could. "YES, YES, YES!!"
There was a fizz and a pop. A cool breeze brushed against Cameron's right cheek. The wings floated up, then dissolved into black dust. The lights around the arena dimmed. Dirt and dust slowly swirled around Cameron in organized streams, weaving into a cloth-like substance.
Frail hands grasped Cameron's shoulders. They were warm, almost comforting. However, Cameron found himself frozen, staring at the wretched, curved blade stuck in the ground in front of him. Its blade was polished, almost reflective as a mirror.
Brandon stepped back, afraid. Orthun sighed and shook his head.
"HIGH QUALITY!" She shouted, almost taunting, toward Orthun.
"Mm, a succession contest?" a terribly bored voice sounded out. "I was called out for this? Oh, how annoying."
A frail hand left Cameron's shoulders and snapped its fingers.
Brandon turned pale and collapsed.
The world blurred for a moment, And Cameron felt dizzy as the Being behind him returned to dirt.
Orthun strolled over, slowly clapping.
A woman blinked into existence next to Cameron, petite and terribly pale. Her face was freckled and round, and her dress rippled off her into streams of ethereal mist.
"See, see, I told you to trust me!" the woman said.
Cameron raised an eyebrow. "She?"
"No, no," the woman said, waving her hand. "I'm Sheriliaa!" She threw her arm around his shoulders. "I've got a name now because of you! And a body! Oooh, it was worth saving up all those centuries. My candidate finally won!"
"Oh, um, oh..." Cameron fell to his knees, head spinning.
"I'll be your advisor! Aren't you excited? I can't wait!"
"Oh good..." Cameron murmured, fading into unconsciousness.
\#
Wrote right before bed, sorry for lack of detail.
|
The chosen candidate stared at the musket in his hands, then stared at the God sitting before him. The so called God was some schmuck in a sappy looking leather jerkin, a beaten up sword tied to his belt, and eating an drinking something from an ornate waterskin.
"Great! Chosen by the least powerful God, given a shitty musket and thrown into a murder death kill contest."
"Battle Royale. That's what we decided to call it." interjects the God, taking a drink from his wineskin, wiping some drops from his lips with his sleeve. "And I resent being called least powerful. I..." he trails off preemptively
"Yeh? Well why cant you give me something better than a shitty musket?" the man angrily swings it like a club, the God leaning back just enough for it to brush his eyelashes. "Well if you want to..." the God trails off again expectantly.
"Forget it, I don't want to know!" the man growls in frustration at his missed swing. The God only noding with a smirk. "I don't care about you, and your stupid battle Royale. I'm going to go club them all with a musket, and when I become a God, I'll club all of you with it as well!" he mumbles loubly, storming off swinging his improvised musket club.
"They never do want to hear the explanation. Just because I never do anything doesn't mean I'm weak. It's not my fault all worthy of my attention are already willing to club everyone with a musket? Call me weak you bastards! But remember, my guys *always* win!" laughs the God of heroes saluting the departing man with his wineskin before taking another sip.
| 2018-10-16T22:17:15 | 2018-10-16T20:17:16 | 78 | 23 |
[WP] Your date is trying very hard to low key tell you that they are a god(dess). You are not picking up any of the hints at all.
|
I arrive at the cafe early. I'm usually punctual as it is but when I'm nervous I tend to be even more so. It's been so long since I've been on a date. My friends and even my family have tried to set me up on them but I really haven't had any interest since my last failed relationship. I finally agreed to this one to mostly shut up my best friend. However I can't say I wasn't intrigued when she said I would really get along with this woman.
I sit at a table reading a book I brought with me before a gentle cough has me look up. I lock eyes with an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Heavenly would be a close approximation of her features and I momentarily gape. Blushing when I realize I am staring I stand swiftly and smile. "Oh sorry! I don't mean to be rude. My name is Isaac. It's nice to meet you."
She giggles shyly and thankfully accepts my hand. A firm shake and I feel like I'm already lost. Pulling out her seat for her I offer her the flowers I brought. "A bit old fashioned but I haven't dated in so long. I hope you like them." I say sheepishly.
Her emerald green eyes glinted and she smiles widely. "Oh why thank you. I love flowers. It's very kind of you. My name is Gail. Pleasure to meet you too." The flowers were drooping a little from the heat but they seemed to freshen up at her touch, standing straighter and looking more vibrant. *Must be imagining it.* I think still smiling goofily.
We exchange the awkward open pleasantries and I am enamored with her voice, soothing and full of comfort. She even went as far as to put the flowers in her glass of water, setting the impromptu vase in some shade.
"You must be a gardener or a botanist of some sort." I say admiringly, watching her arrange the flowers.
Another shy smile from her. "Well yes actually. I like to grow plants of all sorts, I do study them too. Long history of growing things and taking care of them."
We order our food and continue the easy conversation. It's been so long since I felt so comfortable opening up to someone new, it was really refreshing. "I see that you're reading from a regular book," she remarks pointing at my copy of Harry Potter. "Most people use e-readers or tablets these days."
"Oh I have a kindle at home but once in a while I like to feel the paper book you know? More solid and comforting with proper paper once in a while."
Expecting scorn I am gratified to see her nod in agreement. "Oh totally. Love the touch of paper and binding. Can't quite replace it." Reading the title another smile grows on her face. "Fan of magic? Witchcraft and wizardry?"
I nod. To anyone else I might have been embarrassed or defensive but not with Gail for some reason. "Yeah. It's a guilty pleasure. I would love for magic to be real."
Her eyes shine brilliantly in the light as she laughs and we talk about our favorite aspects of Hogwarts. Her love for herbology suits her perfectly I feel. She had such a natural green thumb.
When the food arrives I close my eyes briefly to pray. Opening them I see her looking closely at me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." I saw awkwardly.
With a shake of her head she eats some of her meal. "No not that. You didn't. I assume you're a Christian?"
I nod and she pokes some more at her food. "So you don't believe in other religions or the possibilities of other...deities?"
I think a moment and shake my head. "No. I mean what I believe in doesn't mean other people are wrong. It would make sense for other powers to be just as real as my God is to me. I don't judge others."
Her biggest smile yet blossoms over her face and her good cheer returns. We continue to eat and chat happily, really enjoying the company. At one point several birds visit the table and she feeds them crumbs from her plate. I marvel how one with nature she is and couldn't help taking a picture at the idyllic scene.
When we leave I reluctantly say good bye. I was having so much fun but I had afternoon work to do. She laughingly brushes aside my hand and gives me a warm hug. At first I didn't know what to do but it felt so nice that I returned it happily.
"So may I call you later?" I asked anxiously.
She takes my phone and puts in a number. "I hope you do. Call me and let's see each other soon ok?"
I wave good bye and sigh contentedly watching her walk off. The flower stems coil around her arm and more birds flutter about her. *They really know how to treat flowers at that shop. I'll have to get more from them. I swear they look better now than before.*
|
NOTE- I'm sorry, I took some liberties with the WP to fit my idea. I apologize.
I should have known there was something going on with her when she asked me if I feared death.
I had been on a couple of dates before, but this was new. I looked up at her in surprise, hitting my knee on the table in the process, causing her to burst out laughing. She choked on her spaghetti.
"Goddammit," I swore, as I sprinted towards her in a desperate attempt to clear the stringy delicacy from her trachea.
I was already filled with adrenaline, so I think I hit her way too hard.
Anyway, the pasta flew a solid 6 feet, before landing in my vegetables.
I guess she could see the humor of that, because she had again descended into another laughing fit. She was beautiful, small blonde, long hair, light blue eyes and I was mucking this up, by almost killing her.
When she eventually regained her composure the girl looked outright regal, smiling ardently.
"I like you," she said, "despite you mentioning the big boss while I'm on vacation".
"Wanna come with?" I became bright red and nodded. If there was any physical way I could've gotten a nosebleed like in the anime, I would have.
"Where are we going?" I asked sheepishly.
"My place", she said, with a devilish grin.
If only her place hadn't been so hot.
| 2017-07-13T09:46:05 | 2017-07-13T08:39:15 | 71 | 24 |
[WP] You are the bane of anime heroes everywhere. How? You don't shout out the names and explanations of each attack
|
My life sucks, sometimes.
This is definitely one of those times.
“Blast of the Sacred Lion!”
I clench my teeth as a blast of wind blows past the rubble I’m using as a makeshift shelter. Damnit, this was supposed to be a simple bank heist, just get in, get out, and go.
“You’re a hacker type, aren’t you, villain? Give up now, and save yourself from the path you’re heading down!”
If I weren’t in threat of being buffeted by gale force winds at any second, I’d be tempted to roll my eyes and his dumb assumption.
“It was pretty easy to figure out.”
Despite being somewhat deafened by the previous attack, I can tell that Airhead is walking slowly in my direction. Is he…monologuing? As quietly as I can, I grab my duffel bag of bills and creep around the rubble toward the exit.
“Everywhere you visit, the security footage is wiped out. You’re also known for causing blackouts as a distraction for your villainy. Even a travelling hero like me can tell that you have some proficiency with electronics. Unfortunately for you, your power cannot aid you in a direct confrontation. If you give up now, your crimes are relatively minor and could serve as an asset; I’m sure there’s hope for you yet if you turn yourself in now.”
Only 5 more meters until the door. Come on…
“You’re not as sneaky as you think you are. I’m going to blast you away from the exit!”
I sprint away just as another gale rips through the hallway. Good news: Airhead has conveniently blasted apart the door for me. Bad news: the rubble I was using as camouflage has been pushed aside as well, and there’s now a clear line of sight between the two of us. Even worse news: Airhead is directly between me and the exit.
If I had any reservations about calling Airhead a hero, they’re certainly gone now. I know I shouldn’t judge a book by a cover, but he just screams “I fight for good!” Dark hair that’s slightly spiky, big bright blue eyes that sparkly, a uniform dominated by garish teal – it makes me want to gag on how cheesy it is. I honestly have a hard time connecting his comical appearance with the massive destructive power he wields (hasn’t he heard of collateral damage?), but I better snap out of it soon because he’s posing to prepare another attack. I really don’t want to deal with this, but there’s no way to avoid a fight now. I grab the telescoping police baton from my backpack and charge.
“Finally going on the offensive? There’s no way you can reach me when I summon swirling winds with my Bastion of Air!”
I divert my course to avoid getting bombarded by the mini tornado forming around Airhead. I feel like a bit of a hypocrite by foolishly assuming he didn’t have any defensive techniques.
“You’re a tricky one, managing to dodge that counter-attack. But I still have the upper hand. Blast of the Sacred Lion!”
Dodging Airhead is as simple as running away from the direction he’s pointing in. While he’s preoccupied with charging up his Cat Attack or whatever, I close the distance and whack him in the ribs – not hard enough break anything, but enough to hurt.
“Oh, you’re good,” he gasps out. “I guess I’ll get more serious. Be warned; even I can’t control all of my power. Roar of the Storm!”
Oh, now he’s pointing with both hands. Again, I sidestep and catch him in the knee.
“Ach! Dastardly villain! Though I admit you have significant combat prowess, you can’t bring me down here. I will eventually beat you!” Is he using his power to dramatically blow his hair around?
Eh, might as well play along.
“When have I ever shown you what I’m capable of? Prepare for my retribution, hero.” Despite feeling slightly ridiculous, my words have apparently caused Airhead to assume a defensive stance. “On my command, the cybernetic bombs I’ve planted in the hallway will destroy you!”
Pause for dramatic effect…
“Prepare for Holographic Horror!” I shout as I point at Airhead dramatically, classic Phoenix Wright ‘Objection!’ style.
Right on cue, Airhead puts up his wind shield, preparing for an explosion that will never come. I take this opportunity to run out the building and into the alley with my getaway vehicle. As I buckle my seatbelt (‘click it or ticket’, as they say, and wow, wouldn’t that be a dumb way to get arrested), I can hear Airhead cursing my “high-tech teleportation trickery.”
My life is great, sometimes.
|
"What!?! Night's Terror?!?" I exclaim followed by an exasperated gasp.
"Indeed!" The hero bursts into laughter at my fear. The blade he holds glows bright in the darkness. "Night's Terror dispels all fear of the unknown, clouded in the terrors of the night, the darkness!" He laughs mightily again. "I could naught have foiled your plot if not for this blade!"
An awkward silence fills the battlefield as the hero stares at me.
"And?" I egg him on.
"You know, that plan...that you're supposed to tell me. Right now?" The hero is at a loss.
"What plan?" I ask, tilting my head, hand stroking my chin.
The hero lowers Night's Terror, "I don't know, this is where you say my Night's Terror won't stop you and I do anyway!"
The light surrounding Night's Terror begins to fade, darkness shrouds the battlefield once more.
Morning dawns and the sun dispels the night. The hero lies on the ground, dead. Night's Terror rests in my hands.
Another hero falls and another legendary weapon falls into my collection.
"Onto the next," I say, "I only have half."
| 2017-02-15T11:38:51 | 2017-02-15T11:18:43 | 145 | 38 |
[WP] You're blind, taking an audio tour at a museum. In an ancient Egypt exhibition, the blind are permitted to touch the engraved stones, so you do - and gasp as you realize you can read the hieroglyphs as easily as braille.
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Pt 1 of 2:
If you compare what kind of access blind people have to the world around them to that of just twenty years ago, not to mention if you compare it to fifty years ago, it’s been incredible progress. For those of us lucky enough to be born in wealthier countries, at least, and I’m grateful to find myself among them. For all its faults, these days America does do pretty well at keeping up with making things accessible to those who experience the world differently.
*The Temple of Dendur represents a modestly proportioned example of a building type, common in the Ptolemaic and Roman Periods, that has its roots in earlier Egyptian architecture…*
The museum I visited today was one of those moments I most appreciated where and when I lived. I had so much curiosity of the world around me, I love learning, soaking up knowledge, and history was of particular fascination to me. And the new exhibit the museum had set up on ancient Egypt was something I’d looked forward to for a while.
*This lion with cartouches of Necho II on its shoulders displays features unexpected in Egypt at this time…*
When I arrived, I was given headphones for the audio tour, which I plugged into each exhibit as I passed it. There was also a guide named Josefine that walked the area with me and helped me along, allowing me to take as much time as I’d like, even listening to the information more than once if I wanted to. And the coolest thing? The ‘Do Not Touch’ signs may as well have not been there.
I mean, I couldn’t see them, but I think if they’d been strict on that part despite my blindness, I don’t think that would’ve worked as an excuse.
*In ancient Egypt, temples were seen as residences for deities, who were thought to temporarily manifest themselves in the cult statues located in the sanctuary…*
Then the tablet. I ran my fingers down the rough surface, sliding my fingers over the hieroglyphs, and a shudder ran down my spine and my breath caught in my throat.
I could read it.
Blind people don’t think in pictures, perhaps unsurprisingly, and I’ve had conversations with sighted friends of how my mind ‘sees’ things. It’s difficult to describe the lack of something to someone, but basically, I think of things in terms of how they feel, how they sound, how they taste, and how they smell, just like everyone else. It’s just the sight of it that’s missing which gives me Braille, for example, as a feeling rather than something I see with my eyes. And so the feeling of the engraved words here was just like everything else, except it *made sense*.
I yanked the earbuds from my ears, letting them drop carelessly to the ground. “What-What is this?” I managed.
There was a pause. “These tablets are…The Amarna Letters,” Josefine told me. “The description I’ve got to read is, “Clay cuneiform tablet; letter from Tushratta of-”
“It’s ancient Egyptian, that’s what it’s written in?” I interrupted. It was an unnecessary question, though. This wasn’t Braille, or even English, which I knew how to trace the letters of, having done so in my childhood with a wooden puzzle board toy. The symbols were foreign, but they made sense. They held meaning. Which was impossible.
The next pause from my tour guide was longer. “Yes, ancient Egyptian,” she said softly. “Hieratic.”
I swallowed hard as my mind raced. Maybe I was imagining things? Something about the feeling of the symbols was instinctive, perhaps. Something that my brain was ascribing meaning to just because it reminded me of something else. I tried to make that explanation make sense. Until the tour guide spoke again, at least.
“Can you read it?”
I let out a harsh breath. “Is this English or something?” I asked. “Is this- Are you playing a prank or-”
“No, this is hieratic, and unless you’ve studied it, you shouldn’t be able to read it,” Josefine told me gently. “But you can, can’t you?”
“That’s… How is that possible?”
She sighed and when she spoke her voice was a mixture of curiosity and awe. “I’ve never met a Polyglot who is blind before, so this is probably the coolest thing that’s ever happened,” she mused.
“I’m not… A polyglot is someone who knows multiple languages,” I said. “I only know English, I don’t-”
“Capital P,” she explained. “Can I escort us to somewhere…more private? So we can talk?”
I nodded slowly.
|
"And as we lay our pharaoh to rest with his gold, his son — our ruler to be — cried over the coffin. A boy of thirteen, he was as old as his father had been to take the throne. But the boy wasn't like his father. He hadn't learnt to be cruel, nor buried away his innocence.
At sunrise, he emerged from the limestone, awaited by the guards and behind them, the city. But he paid them no heed. Out of sorrow or out of delusion, the boy turned his back to his people and instead, began to climb. He laboured up his father's tomb brick by brick, falling often but getting up always. It was a while till he reached the peak, but only then did he free his eyes of the tears. He wanted to see clearly now — to see clearly into the heavens which he believed the fire hid.
And he must have been right too, because once he cast his eye upon the sun, he no longer even cared to blink. Falling to his knees, the boy stared for hours until darkness came. And then he stayed longer, waiting for the light to come back again.
But it never did."
| 2021-02-16T09:06:03 | 2021-02-16T08:17:49 | 237 | 115 |
[WP] In Valhalla all of the greatest heroes which died in battle doth drink, be merry, and war for fun, also there's Doug, the accountant.
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Doug had always liked numbers. Additions, subtractions and all the other forms of making them interact with one another. It had been clear early on that he would go into a field which made use of them. His interest in numbers had, unfortunately, not carried over into any other academic areas. So, he was left with only a limited amount of career choices. After weighing his options carefully, he became an accountant.
It suited him just fine. Mostly, the work was not too hard. The numbers danced for him, without much effort. He could simply look upon an account and just saw where it could be optimised. And where it was not up to speed.
Doug had another love, besides numbersmithing. He liked justice. Wanted people to be happy and taken care off. Which did not always mix well with his chosen field. At all.
Still, he persevered. Wherever he found a loophole that would allow a family to keep the farm, even if just for another month, he went for it. An easily overlooked but unnecessary item on a medical bill? He'd highlight it and advise the person on how to get it removed. Heck, even the occasional parking ticket, clocked at to high a rate, caught his attention.
But his biggest, most important discovery and strike against injustice, had been the Kitty Hall Orphanage. Apparently, the building had accrued an insurmountable amount of backtaxes due to some obscure zoning regulations. And would be sold to a less than nice corporation, if the aforementioned taxes were not payed on time.
It irked him. Made his blood boil. Turned his usually so calm demeanor into a quiet, simmering flame of pure anger. And yet, he kept focused. Kept his feelings in check. There was work to be done. Important work. And he could not stop before it was done.
His sleep schedule suffered. His health did not agree with his choice of food and drink. Ramen and instant coffee, to be precise. As the deadline approached, his ailments became more serious. Sometimes, his chest would hurt inexplicably. Other times, he felt dizzy for no reason. It did not stop him. He carried on.
With mere hours to spare before the ultimatum, he went over his report. Double-checked every calculation. Cross-referenced all of his casenotes and all of the rulings he had compiled. His statement was bulletproof. One could have taken an axe to his arguments, and they would have remained solid. As he felt another bout of dizzyness crawl up his spine, he hit the send key. Instead of a wave of relieve, he felt his left arm go numb. Curious.
When Doug awoke he didn't recognise his surroundings. It definitely wasn't his office anymore. Instead, he found himself infront of a massive gate, partially shrouded in fog. He fixed his glasses and slowly crept towards it. When he had finally managed to push it open, he couldn't believe his weak eyes.
Beyond the gate stretched a massive hall. Along rows and rows of tables were seated massive men and women, scared by countless battles. They all regarded him in silence. Doug feared that his worst nightmares had come true. That he would spend all of eternity at the hands of his highschool bullies. When his gaze fell upon a towering man, covered in a grey cloak, regarding him from the end of the hall.
The man's one dark eye starred out from beneath a thick brow of coppery red hair, drilling into Dougs soul. On the man's shoulders sat two ravens, whispering quietly into his ears. When the man spoke, his voice was quiet, yet filled with the weight of ages.
"Ah, behold, brothers and sisters, for today we are joined by another great warrior. One who is well versed in the art of the runes and their hidden ways. One who is not afraid to pick battles he may not win. One who is clever and smart and strong. A numbersmith without peer. Behold, a balancer of debts and a finder of ways. A warrior of countless battles. A hero to many. He is Doug, the Accountant, and we shall welcome him to Valhalla!"
With those words, a deafening roar erupted from the hardend people along the tables and on the benches. Doug had finally found his people.
(Typos shall be checked tomorrow when not on mobile.)
|
“It’s you.”
The voice pulled Doug away from the stories being told at his end of the table. He looked at the speaker, a young man in fatigues. *New addition* Doug thought. Brown hair in a buzzcut, clear green eyes over freckled cheeks. *25 or so*, he guessed. Looked vaguely familiar, but Doug couldn’t quite place him.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“No sir, but I know you.”
The rest of the table quieted down as the new warrior sat down next to the man that had saved his life 17 years before.
“2005, sir. Bergman Elementary. Active shooter. You tackled him in the library before the cops got there. He got you though. News said you died instantly. I never thought I would get the honor to say thank you.”
| 2022-11-14T14:31:44 | 2022-11-14T14:28:00 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] You can see video game-like titles for the people you meet. Usually they are just "The Shopkeeper", or "The Mayor", but today you saw an old homeless man with the title "The Forgotten King".
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David was opening up his shop when I arrived that morning. He was a fine book seller, always had the most compelling tales of heroism and adventure. I browsed his shop for only an hour that morning, I had too many books already.
I looked around the shop aimlessly as he bagged my purchases, my eyes settled only momentarily on the words above the old man’s head.
*The Shopkeeper*
The rest of the town was waking up as I started to walk back home. Sarah, *The Baker*, handed me a loaf as I walked by. She was always generous. We were good friends, both of us had taken on our family businesses and shared the same struggles of keeping up with the newer town shops.
I continued walking back home, greeting everyone from Paul, *The Sheriff*, to Anna, *The Harpist*.
They all had the same titles above them, day after day. In white, neat penmanship, simple titles that were true to their characters.
I had started to see them one day, when I was young. I had asked my father about them, but he had simply waved them off as part of my youthful imagination.
“They’ll go away when you’re older.” That had been over twenty-years ago. I was now thirty-two, and the titles were still there.
I didn’t know what my title was, I would sometimes go sit by the lake, to see if there was anything in my reflection. I never had one, not even when my father had died and I had become the town’s blacksmith.
Father had always had a distaste for my interest in books, he said reading was for scholars. I had struggled to learn to read, since my mother had died when I was young, and Father did not know how.
I learned one day though, that the shapes and lines that I was seeing above people were words. They had meaning, and gave people names beyond those given to them at birth.
The bookkeeper had taught me how to read in exchange for a solid lock for his shop. I had learned how to make the lock from one of the first books I read.
I was out of the main part of the town, there were fewer people with their shops open and even fewer out in the streets. *The Midwife*, *The Priest*, and *The Shoemaker* were the only ones I saw as I walked by.
There was a man though who sat outside of the town’s church. He sat there in the cold with nothing but a single shirt and pants. He wore no shoes and his black beard was unkempt. I was getting closer and noticed his dirty face, but there was no other way. I had to walk past the church to get to my shop. That was when I noticed his title.
*The Forgotten King*. I kept walking, but my pace slowed.
No one had ever had that title before, no one had ever had a ridiculous title. I turned to look at him casually as I passed, pretending to be looking all around at the surroundings. I felt my eyes linger on the words above his head.
Suddenly the homeless man’s head shot up. He looked me in the eyes and I was taken aback by how blue and clear they were.
“You!” He jumped up from the steps of the church and I stopped, not sure if I wanted this man to know where I lived.
“May I help you sir?” I couldn’t stop glancing at his title, it wasn’t in white text like most people’s. *The Forgotten King* was written in a faded grey, almost as if it was a sign that had been painted and then exposed to time and the elements. He leaned in closer to my face and I held my breath, not wanting to smell the stench off of a homeless man.
I wanted to push him away, but it seemed wrong to be rude to another man in front of the town church.
“Yes, yes. I knew you were here.” He muttered, looking at me from above. He was taller than me, and bigger despite the clothes of a homeless man. It was rare for someone bigger than the blacksmith to come to town.
“Do I know you, sir?” I took a small breath when he leaned away, thankfully not catching a whiff of whatever his unkempt beard was probably giving off. I had seen a piece of moldy cheese in it.
“No, but I know you.” He pointed at a spot above my head, “You’re *The Titlemaker*.”
|
[Poem]
Joseph sees the Forgotten King
Surrounded by little bottles of drink
King looks up to see what he brings
As he sits in the dew of the spring
Joseph asks him “Are you the King?”
To the Forgotten King, clearly aging
The king smiles and gives him a wink
“Indeed I am, beneath this stink”
“What happened to you?” Asks the boy
The old king’s face fills with joy
“I went to search for a beautiful thing
A love that carried me on silver wing”
The boy, confused, casts his doubt
“But you left behind all that clout!”
The king looks dreamily, far away
“The price I did sorely pay
But I found my love, what can I say?”
Edit: I’m on mobile please excuse formatting until I get the chance to fix it
| 2019-01-08T16:21:07 | 2019-01-08T11:41:40 | 49 | 13 |
[WP] Humanity has detonated hundreds of nukes, but only twice against an enemy. The Galactic Federation has this fact without context.
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*"Humans of Earth! Do not panic. We are here to assist you. We are the Defence Force of the Intra-Galactic Coalition of Worlds. We are allies. We are friends. We are now working closely with your militaries to address the Xyclad infestation. Proceed to evacuation assembly areas. Evacuation assembly areas are marked by light beams. Bring your national identification to the evacuation assembly areas. Humans of Earth! Do not Panic. We are..."*
The message played from every television, radio, computer, cell phone, ear bud, intercom, public address system, and all other speakered devices on the planet. Major Holland picked up the receiver from the phone on his desk to get answers, only to hear the infernal message that was jamming every communication system on the base. He could scarcely slam it back home before the alien teleported into existence in front of him.
"Major Holland! I am Commander Zor, of the Defence Force. We are here to assist you. We are here to help. My troops are at your disposal. Brief me on the local Xyclad infestation."
It only took a glance out the window, where thousands of alien creatures were marshalling and drilling beside complicated war machines, to see that this was not some elaborate prank.
"Zie...clid? Xyclad?"
"We do not know your name for them. We do not know your label. Your foe. Your enemy. Your reason for battle. We are here to fight your enemy. We are allies. We are friends."
The creature held out some kind of translucent tablet which projected a holographic image, in front of the major, of some horribly ugly and vicious looking creature.
"What the hell is that?!"
"You do not know the Xyclad? You do not see your enemy?"
"I've never seen anything like that in my life!"
"Impossible! Why do you battle? Why do you war? Why do you fight?"
"We fight no battles. We *are* engaged in some peacekeeping actions abroad but we fight no war."
"No species would employ the atom for minor conflict. You do not split the atom against yourselves. We are allies. We are friends. We are here to help. Tell me of the Xyclad. Tell me of your enemy. Your enemy is our enemy."
"Split the atom? You mean nuclear bombs? We haven't deployed nuclear weapon systems in anger in decades? Uh... not in many orbits... around our star."
The Major circled a finger around an outstretched fist. The hologram changed to display Earth, which presently became covered in a host of variously sized red dots.
"Why then do you detonate the weapons around your planet? Why do you split the atom in many places?"
"Most of these are tests."
"Your weapon clearly functions. Your atom-splitting works. Your '*nuke'* is operable. Why would you test it endlessly? Why do you persist? If not for the Xyclad?"
"I... I don't know. Is that unusual?"
"It is unfathomable! You poison your world! You sicken your planet."
A lieutenant burst into the room and saluted, seemingly unfazed by the alien creatures presence.
"Major. Chief of Defence is on the big screen in Room 2. Big conference call with... well, with everybody."
"I'll be right there."
The Major pointed at his surprise guest.
"You- er... Commander... Zor? You stay here."
"Understood."
The alien took up what was probably a military attention or rest position and stood motionless as the Major hurried out of the room.
Millions of similar conversations were taking place all over the planet as the service people of the Intra-Galactic Coalition of Worlds Defence Force met with their Earthling counterparts. Some went better than others. Politicians met with politicians, officers with officers. Some enlisted ranks were already being trained in counter-Xyclad tactics and preparing defences. Some fired on the alien 'invaders', but in those cases the guests disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. Even emergency responders were visited by their space-faring equals.
It took several days to convince the new arrivals that Earth was not under attack, and several more to explain why Humanity had detonated hundreds of nuclear weapons all over its' planet. A newly reformed United Nations drafted and sent an apology to the people of the Milky Way for its' apparently unusual behavior.
A united Humanity was soon inducted into the Intra-Galactic Coalition of Worlds. Advanced and technology and hard earned knowledge, gifted by new friends, saw poverty, unemployment, and most diseases instantly eradicated. Prisons were all but emptied.
The promise of adventure in space, a noble duty to protect intelligent life, and, for some, shelter and hot meals, saw seven hundred million Humans enlisted into an inaugural 1^(st) Earthling Division of the IGCW-DF. The greatest initial contribution per-capita of any member world to date.
They may have stumbled embarrassingly onto the galactic stage but the *''Nuke'ems''* would soon be known to punch above their weight when it came to fighting the infestation. Humanity would scour the Xyclads from their local cluster in short order, a new galactic shock force.
They are allies. They are friends. But if the *Nuke'ems* show up on your world...
***"Duck and cover!"***
|
Honestly the moment i have seen the reports the first time, i already instantly understood why nobody was willing to go there, it seems what ever the people on 66474510 were fighting they had to use doom class weaponary against it on the regular.
Fact is we don't know when and where their enemy will attack and what they even are - and when the people of 66474510 retaliate. They react so fast we don't have any recordings of said attacker. They seem to have very advanced survailence system that globally protects every Region from potential attacks.
As a consequence we made it the highest priority to find out what is attacking them, we send multiple drone ships to their planet in hope to get a glimpse of what is attacking them, even risking beeing seen by the people from 66474510, at this point we care more about their safety than avoiding to be seen.
They probably already have multiple recordings of our droneships but it is a shame that we don't have any recordings of the main risk factor that isn't allowing us to get in contact with them.
If we had a way to tell when and where the attacks and the defensive measure would take place we could try to avoid those happenings and get into contact, maybe even send one of us.
For now the only thing we can do is try to find out what is attacking them - something so scary the people on 66474510 went to such extrem lengths, that they even killed millions of their own. On the good side of things their security systems seems to work well enough that they didn't have to take mesaures like the mentioned one for an extended period of time.
Which gives us hope that maybe instead of us contacting them they will find a way to meet up with us in the future. If anyone can do it than the people from 66474510.
| 2021-02-17T08:19:23 | 2021-02-17T07:50:31 | 67 | 20 |
[WP] You are a demon that has had several failed attempts on your life by demon hunters. No matter how they use their holy powers they cannot harm you and as a result they consider you extremely powerful. In truth, the holy powers don't harm you for the simple reason that you aren't actually evil.
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“Begone Demon!” the priest cried, raising the cross over his head dramatically. He held it there, leaning forward as if he was fighting against a great wind. “I can feel the demon’s power in the poor child!”
The mother was crying.
“Excuse me,” I said to the priest. “Excuse me,” I said again when he seemed not to hear me. My voice was high. Childlike. Frankly, it was adorable.
“Do not speak, demon!” The priest shouted and tossed water in my face.
“Well, that was rude.” I said, trying to wipe the water off my face with my little hands, but I forgot I was tied down to the bed.
“He is not affected by holy water,” the priest said to his assistant. “Dear god, help us.”
I rolled my eyes. “Listen, padre, you got these ropes too tight. You are going to hurt this poor girl’s arms. The circulation is cut. Look!” I said nodding at the fingers turning blue. “You want her to lose her fingers?”
“It’s a trick!” the Priest’s slimy little assistant said, nudging up against the priest who pushed him away.
“I know it is!” the priest said with frustration, smoothing out his robes. “I know it is,” he said, this time calmer. He turned to me with a sickly smile. “So, you seem to be smarter and more powerful than I anticipated That’s good. I will enjoy this very much.”
“Did you enjoy the bruises you put on this girl’s face when you tried to slap ‘the demon’ out of her?” I asked.
The priest flinched at that.
“Listen,” I said. “Your “holy weapons” aren’t going to work. They have no power over me. Frankly, I don’t got time to discuss it. I’m only here for a short time. I didn’t choose the girl. She chose me. She's scared. And honestly, the girl doesn’t seem to want to come back. She’s here with me now and she’s scared of you. She’s scared of what her mother said. About how she is a sinner. She’s scared of your threats to her.”
“Threats?” the priest said. “What are you talking about?”
“Eternal damnation?” I said. “Just for having different feelings than others? Really? You call me the evil one… but look what you’ve done to this little girl. She summoned me because she was told she was possessed with evil. She thought she deserved me. Well, I’m glad she called me. You’ve gone too far.”
I looked at the mother. “You’ve all gone too far. Leave the girl alone. Let her be. She’s not evil. Nor am I. Let her live her life the way she wants. The way that makes her happy.”
“Bring my baby back please, I’ll do anything you say,” the mother pleaded, tears streaming down her face.
“Alright, deal. I’m gonna go now. And when she comes back, I want you to hug her and say you're sorry. Alright?”
The mother nodded slowly, wiping her eyes.
“And I want you to stay away from this man.” I nodded at the priest. “He takes pleasure in the torturing of poor souls who were born different than him.”
I closed my eyes and slowly sank into the girl's mind. “It’s okay,” I said to the girl who was curled up down deep inside of herself. I ran my hands through her hair. “It’ll be okay now.” She looked up at me.
“Really?”
I nodded.
“And if it isn’t?” She asked.
“I’ll always be here for you. Just call for me, I’ll be listening”
She uncurled herself and rose up. I gave her a hug and I let her merge into me, taking back control of the body.
“You’ll do great.” I said. “I’m proud of you.”
\---
You can read more of my stories at r/CataclysmicRhythmic
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[Poem]
"For the last time," I said with a sigh,
"I know you're not evil, but neither am I,"
"And if this mess could come to an end,"
"You may even find that I could be your friend."
The holy water splashed on the ground,
And I sighed yet again, this time with a frown,
The hunters took their leave and they ran,
"Infernal isn't that hard to understand!"
| 2021-02-22T14:48:36 | 2021-02-22T13:56:05 | 3,079 | 323 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider
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I looked up from my tablet to keep an eye on my five year old daughter as she played. I had been unemployed for months and was taking on the role of stay at home dad. It was a difficult time for my family to adjust, but being here at the beach made things seem less complicated. Caroline always seemed content to gallop and whinny while looking for sea shells. I went back to editing my resume before Caroline’s screams pierced my heart. I was running towards the cries for daddy as a cloud of dense yellow smoke engulfed my child.
I was terrified.
What did she find?
Is she okay?
The smoke cleared and my heart dropped as I saw she wasn’t alone, but what I was seeing didn’t make sense.
“DADDY! DADDY!” My legs were pumping harder now as I reached my daughter. I dove and clasped my arms around her in defense
“Hello humans! I’m here to do the bidding thrice of the one who rubbed my lamp suffice!” this ethereal creature informed us.
I held my daughter tighter while absorbing what I saw… A ghost I thought. With a transparent trail of amber vapor leading to bronze lamp? This couldn’t be? A genie? Those were fables and Disney movies only I thought. My daughter’s fear evaporated as she focused on the smiling creature with the braided hair and no feet.
“You’re funny looking” she giggled.
“And you’re short tiny human.” He spoke softly, comfortingly. If this was a genie he must be well aware his presence can cause quite a shock.
“Tiny human you’ve rubbed my lamp and earned you three wishes. Open your mind and ask for what your heart desires.” My eyes nearly popped out my head when the realization washed over me, but it must have hit my daughter first.
“I WISH FOR ALL THE CANDY” Caroline shouted with excitement and watched the genie intently. He raised his arms, swooped them up, then down, crossed them, and pointed his fingers up to the sky. It began to rain chocolate bars, skittles, M&Ms, and so many more I couldn’t imagine! Caroline galloped away in glee picking up as much candy as she could carry.
“Genie, I would like our second wish to be for $100 million!” I boldly asked for.
“I apologize larger human, but I am bound to the one who rubbed the lamp.”
I chased Caroline down and explained how her mother and I would love for her to use a wish to help our family. She stared at me while I explained what the Genie could do for us, and how she could use the next two wishes. She sat in the sand and thought for a while. The Genie simply smiled down at her patiently waiting her next command.
“I WANT TO NEVER EAT BRUSSELS SPROUTS AGAIN. Oh and mommy and daddy don’t have to either.” She said a little sheepishly. I washed the disappointment off my face with my hands and my eyes met the genie’s unmoving stature.
“I heard no wish. Two still remain. What would you like next little human.”
Relieved I tried again with Caroline. Reasoning with a five year old was not my expertise. I told Caroline to repeat after me: “I wish for 100 million dollars.”
“I WISH DADDY HAD ONE HUNDRED DOLLARS.” And the genie’s arms went, up, down, crossed and pointed to my pocket. A crisp hundred dollar bill was there.
Oh God damn it. One more to go. We can still make this work.
“Daddy I know what I always wanted.” She leaned in close to me and whispered with her loudest voice into my ear: “Daddy I wish I was a pony.” Immediately my eyes flashed to the genie. His face was shallow, his eyes damp, shoulders nearly sliding off his body.
“Tiny human. I’m so sorry. I must grant your wish. I am bound to you.” His speech was defeated and pained. I could only look on in horror for a third time.
His arms went up.
They went down.
They crossed.
I saw tears on his face as he pointed. I screamed. Yellow smoke enveloped us. The genie was gone. The lamp was gone. My daughter was gone as she galloped away.
|
The genie tells me "I have cured your wife's illness and granted long term prosperity to your nation. What is your third and final wish, Alios?
I smile, the first two wishes were crucial to the third. Without them the third could be tragic. The legends always tell how the final wish becomes a curse. But I have outsmarted him, with my good wife and a strong nation the third cannot fail.
"My son, Adolf died of drowning. I wish for a good man to have saved him."
The Genies eyes widen. "Disregard that wish and I shall grant you another."
The bastard, so foul a creature it balks at sparing the life of an innocent. "NO" I demand. "That is my final wish, you must obey".
Compelled to obey, the genie sighs. "As you wish, Alios Hitler.
| 2014-07-26T18:37:55 | 2014-07-26T16:34:15 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] The hero was killed, the princess was sacrificed, and the evil king rules the land. For the average citizen, though, things have taken a turn for the better.
|
**Eldrich The White Knight**: "Fair gentlemen and gentlewomen of Farlandia. I have come to avenge the deaths of your good King Fairlawn and his daughter, Princess Moon. For years since the Black King took over, you have lived in this" *Motions around* "squalor. I for one seem to- uh... look I don't usually do questions... Ok. Guy in the second row".
**Peasant**: "You do realize this is Historic Farlandia right?".
**Eldrich**: "Historic?".
**Peasant**: "Yeah. It's a tourist town. Most of us live in the city by the factories".
**Eldrich**: "Ahh yes. The factories. The Black King, has taken it upon himself to sell arms to the Orcs of Novenguarde and the Elves of the Red Forest".
**Peasant**: "If by sell arms you mean brought industry to a former farming community then yeah. He did that".
**Eldrich**: "So you think it's justified than?".
**Elf**: "You do realize it's called the Red Forest because the former King's father burned those villages right?".
**Eldrich**: "Yes but that was because-"
**Elf**: "We worshiped the tree gods. A practice the Black King okayed. Actually he made it legal to worship anything of your choosing. My husband worships the orc gods".
**Eldrich**: "Husband?"
**Elf**: "Yeah...Why?".
**Eldrich**: "Well... it's just that you're a... you know.... a male elf".
**Elf**: "Wow"
**Peasant**: "Not fucking cool bro".
**Elf**: "You know it's prejudices like that the Black King's 'Equal Work' Program is trying to stomp out".
**Eldrich**: "EITHER WAY! You are forced to slave away in the factories-"
**Female Peasant**: "If by slave away you mean work a mandated 8 hour shift for good pay then yes we do".
**Eldrich**: "I'm sorry and you are?"
**Female Peasant**: "Miranda. I'm the head of the sword makers union. And I know personal stories don't set a standard, but I'll have you know that 'slaving away' made me enough money to move from my wicked step mother's house. You know what opportunities are available to women who live with their wicked step mothers? Either die and be a tragic heroes backstory, or marry a prince".
**Peasant**: "And... I hope you don't mind me adding Miranda" *Miranda holds up her hand and shakes her head in an 'It's Ok motion'* "Thanks. The Union has given us a minimum wage, a great healthcare plan, and no more sudden songs. When I was a farmer, Princess Moon would make us all burst out into song about birds and crap whenever she was happy. Which was fucking always. I got three kids. One in college to be a guard. I don't have time for singing".
**Eldrich**: "Ah yes. The Guard. Or as we call it, The Black Army".
**Elf**: "Who have cut our crime rate down by 75%. You see the key is community policing".
**Eldrich**: "ENOUGH! *draws sword* I WILL STILL AVENGE.......What is it now?"
**Peasant**: "You have a permit for that right?"
**Eldrich**: "What man needs a permit for a sword?"
**Peasant**: "Everyone. Don't get me wrong the Black King decreed that the right to own a sword is guaranteed by decree. But we still have criminal background checks".
**Eldrich**: "If you're all so happy with your King then why are you listening to me?".
**Elf**: "We all have the day off. Blood Moon Day. The Black King made it so all important religious holidays are observed".
**Eldrich**: "Hmm. I guess he would with any Pagan-".
**Elf**: "Wow!"
**Peasant**: "Not fucking cool bro".
**Miranda**: "I bet the only reason you want to overthrow the King is because he's a BLACK King".
**Eldrich**: "NOOOO! I have plenty of friends who are Black Knights".
**Miranda**: "They just shouldn't be king right?"
**Eldrich**: "Well. Some of them-"
**Miranda**: "Uh-Huh. I see what this is about. Come on everyone. Back to the festival".
**Eldrich**: "Wait. No! You have to rise-"
**Orc Guard**: "Excuse me... Do you have a permit for that sword?"
**Eldrich**: "I don't-".
**Orc Guard**: "Ok pal. You're coming with me".
**Elf**: *To Orc Guard* "See you at home babe".
Edit: Thank you for the gold
|
Channel 5 news reporting on the scene earlier today after Link was immediately assassinated by Ganon, and Zelda was executed in front of the citizens of Hyrule. John Ramirez is on the ground getting the people's reaction to today's events.
JR: Excuse me sir, how has today's events made you feel.
Random Citizen: well actually I couldn't be happier, that little shit always ran around breaking my pots.
JR: But what about princess Zelda? Surely her death has come as a tradegy to all in the kingdom?!
RC: Nope, not really. I mean we are expected in this day in age to maintain the societal hierarchy that allows for a ruling class, in which a young boy, annoying may he be, can sacrifice his life to save what? A figurehead of the aristocracy? I tell you John, what kind of leadership allows random citizens to fight and die for it all because the idea of castle security is a foreign fucking concept?
JR: Umm okay sir thank you for your comment. Miss would you mind commenting on the tradegy that Ganon's rule will surely be?
RC2: I like him, Ganon I mean, he gives off a sense of structure that we have not enjoyed here in a very long time. He will be the king that finally secures our borders.
JR: Wow, okay it seems that the local populace are not very upset after today's actions. Alright, back to you in the studio, Tom.
| 2016-07-10T15:53:09 | 2016-07-10T11:12:55 | 2,386 | 20 |
[WP] At the stroke of midnight on January 1st, 2020, the first snow of the new year and the new decade fell. And it never stopped.
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On the second day of continuous snow-fall, I thought that it had been a very good idea to outfit the family in sub-zero tolerant winter gear and that spending a little more on outerwear and thermal layers was going to have a nice ROI. Previously, I had bought things to be prepared only to find ourselves splashing around in the Atlantic Ocean on Christmas Day while the very warm garments were stored away.
On the third day, we stopped using our car and just walked to work and school.
By the time the snow reached 24 inches, with no end in sight, the city declared an emergency of sorts and everyone who could work from home, did so. It hadn't been unheard of to have a significant snow storm every now and then. We went to the supermarket to gather canned and dried food; definitely not milk and eggs.
Once the accumulated snow breached our front door, having risen above our stoop, we, along with everyone else, realized that there was a serious problem. A problem that wasn't anticipated since everyone seemed to be focused on global warming and not letting the airport sink into the marsh when the sea levels increased. A problem that would take creative logistics and good project management, the sort that I could work out if I was in those sort of circles, which I wasn't.
Instead, I was home watching the snow get higher and higher until we couldn't see out of our first floor windows. I recalled reading a Laura Ingalls Wilder book in which the family wintered in a place where the snow completely covered their front door, as well, and they had to climb out of the window to get out of the house. Perhaps this would have been especially disconcerting except that the electricity and water continued to work because the city was basically a giant igloo and the sub-street mechanicals were tucked in nicely.
By the time the accumulated snow reached the third floor, and we started to get nervous because the food was scarce and we were running low, it miraculously stopped actually snowing. Random fits of flurries would come and go but nothing like that January. Instead, the temperature remained cold enough to prevent the snow from melting. The city did not thaw. Well-traveled snow became compact, allowing brisk walks here and there. Trucks could not deliver food but larger companies shifted their supply-chain to deliver by river and residents could renew their food supply by either walking east to the Delaware or west to the Schuylkill. We had though that living near the water was going to unsustainable once the sea levels rose, but instead it was the communities near the water that could receive supplies from the warmer places.
Our world became smaller. Travel outside of walking distance was impossible. We became more friendly with our immediate neighbors, taking turns visiting each other's houses to avoid going stir crazy in our own.
We might have been able to hold out but certain businesses couldn't transfer their operations to a remote model. Those that worked for such companies were laid off. Incomes decreased. Bills were not paid. Foreclosures were imminent, although it is difficult to repossess a house that's under 20 feet of snow.
I suppose I always knew that the balance of industry, economy, and society was precarious. By February, I saw this balance begin to fail under the strain of business closures, bank failures, loan defaults, and unemployment.
During March, we debating staying or leaving. Clearly the snow was going to be around for a while but the city, specifically those who could work remotely or those who could provide services to barter with, was adapting. Tunnels through the snow had been dug out and it wasn't impossible to get from place to place, even entering homes and businesses via steps carved into the packed snow. Supplies were steadily being delivered via the river and there was work to be had for people who could help deliver goods via sled from the riverfront to the various locations in the city.
Unemployment was nearly zero percent. Everyone helped out as much as they could. Those who couldn't work the docks, watched the kids or helped in large community dwellings and kitchens. Everyone adapted and considering the challenges, as a whole, the city did very well that first year. Those who couldn't adapt, boarded the empty ships that had come with food and supplies to venture to warmer places that the sun hadn't forsaken.
During such times, you ask yourself a million times, at least once a day, whether you should stay or go. At what point is it too late? Is it already too late? Or is there still time? And, when is that time became too late? Things are OK. You feel pretty good about being agile and adaptive. But what if you can't adapt any further and it becomes too late? At what point are your options exhausted? Some sort of instructional manual would be useful, or a cheat guide like they used to print for video games.
|
"And so began the end of days. All that would remain is night evermore. The warmth slowly left the world and in its place was nothing. A nothingness we named Cold. Cold was a fearsome beast. A relentless hunter, it was uncaring and unfeeling, and spending too long in it made you feel the same way. As the heat left your body the warmth left you too. The warmth of life and love. Smiles were swept away on brutal winds and laughter was drowned in the white that blanketed the world. The very essence of hu-"
"Jesus *Christ*, man, we'll catch a showing after the snow lets up. I'm going to bed. I'll drive you tomorrow. It's not like you *have* to ^see ^the ^*premiere* ^^anyways."
"-manity has drifted away like the first flakes that we didn't heed. In our darkest hours I fear my companions are already turning against me. This may be my last transmission. If you're out there and hearing this then run. Run as fast as you can to the nearest theatre, and afterwords tell my frigid corpse if Chewy survives. Else I swear to all powers above and below I will crawl out of the frozen hellhole I perished in and kick Rian Johnson's ass."
| 2019-12-10T12:57:50 | 2019-12-10T12:23:53 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] Despite having pink hair, untold magic power and a tragic backstory, the narrator refuses to make you the main character.
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*Pink hair*, *blue eyes*, Starlina Sue thought to herself as she skipped into the woods, a basketmade from pink everwood swinging with my movement. *All the makings for a magical chosen one. Or princess. Or both.*
Unfornatantly for Starlina Sue, this Narrator had other ideas. You see, the author may make up the world and character, but I, and many others, have the final say in what happens. And Starlina was not the kind of girl I intended to narrate for.
No, I intended to narrate for a boy named Lucas Elderoth, son of King Elderoth the Conquerer, in his quest to show his father that he can be a king.
Now, let us shift the scene away from this pink eye sore and-
"Hold it!" a voice that I could only describe as overly sweet, like artificial grape flavor or childern's cough medicene.
"My voice sounds like trinkling bells and a sweet breath of wind, for one thing!" The voice said again in that *way* to sweet voice, "I am Starlina Mary Kathrin Aphrodite Emerlada Sue, and this is my story, you will narrate it or I will use my magic to force you!"
I sighed, looking down at the enraged Sue. "You don't have magic."
Starlina balled her far to pale hands into fists, growlering. "Yes I do! Because I'm the chosen one and I'm going to save the world while everyone falls in love with me!"
*oh boy*, I thought, *it's one of these sues*.
"I can hear your thoughts you know!"
"Starlina, I'm going to say this nicely once, got it?" I didn;t wait for her to react. "You are a Mary Sue. The fact that I am not having you killed as we speak is amazing, given that your ilk is one of the biggest threats to literacy. Go home and wash out that cheap hair dye, get some counseling, and live a normal life."
Now that the Sue is taken care of, it's time we shift the scene to Lucas Elderoth and begin the story.
"Hold it!" Starlina barked, interrupting what would have been a very beautiful beginning of a story. "What other story must you tell that's more important than mine? You haven;t even described my sexiness yet!"
Now I was being to lose my patience, which is a very hard thing for a narrator to do. Given that we must deal with stubborn characters all the time. "You want to hear the story I am now late to narrating?" I spat, "Fine! It's the story of Prince Luas Elderoth now let me shift the author-damned scence!"
Starlina squealed with delight, much to my fury. "Oh, prince Lucas! He's going to marry me and make me queen, after he fights the angsty hot guy, of course! It's all in the Prophecy that gave me my magical powers that I'm using to make YOU narrate MY amazing story!"
I fell silent. I could kill her now or...
Yes, that would work.
"Starlina, you powers have ensanred me!" I cried out in mock horror. "But please, I know not how to describe your beauty!"
The Sue's oddly colored eyes went wide with glee as she took off into a monologue about her 'beauty'.
She described her eyes as 'glittering diamonds'. I deleted her sad backstory.
She described her hair as 'shining pink silk'. I deleted the unnecessary prophecy.
She described her body as 'sexy perfection'. I deleted her legendary powers.
Starlina was so infatuated with her descriptions she didn't notice until I was just starting to delete her name.
"No!" Starlina yelled, her voice less grating on the ears as she stared at her hands in disbelief. "What have you done to me? You're the narrator, not the author!"
A smile played across my face as I spoke to Starlina Mary Kathrin Aphrodite Emerlada Sue for the last time. "Narrators take the whispers the Author gives them, but they can whisper back."
"Noo!" Starlina wailed as she fell to the earth, overly bright colors and all that made her Sue drained into the earth.
A moment later, the plain girl in her place got up and collected her now normal basket and the background character walked off.
Now, about Lucas Elderoth...
&#x200B;
**Sorry if this is overly long, I really like this prompt!**
|
"Hey Superman" I say as I sit on the steps.
He smiles at me, and gives a wave "Good to see you too citizen, be safe out there today" and he walks into the Justice League Headquarters. Then batman follows, gives me a nod and keeps walking, Aquaman fists bumps me and tells me to keep up the good work social distancing. Wonder woman gives a smile, Flash must have snuck by me when I blinked, always great to see the hero's of the world doing their jobs.
Well.. guess I should head home now, because lets be honest, being a main character in the DC Universe, takes more than pink hair, and tragic backstory.. Oh yah.. the magic. Well that's cool and all, but.. I am just an empath, I can heal people, not the stuff of legends or heroics, more like.. right.. a background player.
Well off to the children's hospital to do my part curing them, I like it when the hero's stop by and call me a hero for all I do, makes me feel great.. but really, it's their world, and I am just happy to be a part of it.
| 2021-07-04T12:29:19 | 2021-07-04T11:15:44 | 76 | 12 |
[WP] Humanity has merged into a single immortal consciousness. Everyone who has ever lived has become as one, a being of pure energy and infinite love, that shall last to the death of the universe and beyond. And they’re here to explain why they left you out.
|
Humanity has always wanted to be a part of something bigger, that's what I always heard from priests and shit growing up. Like, we *yearned* for more than our fleeting little mortal existences. And a year ago, humanity got its chance.
Unprecedented peace broke out across the world. Humans came together as one like never before, working to solve global and local issues for all. This increased cooperation also enabled humanity to pour money and labor into researching technology that would allow their newfound 'togetherness' to become much more literal.
And so it was that every human on the planet agreed to assimilate their souls into one immortal, all powerful being of pure kindness and enlightenment known as "The One".
Well, every human being except for me, that is.
Yeah, not gonna lie, being left out made me a little miffed. Rejection stings, and solitary living I'd been doing for the last year hadn't been too exciting. But today, The One showed up at my doorstep. I *knew* they'd come crawlin' back! What kind of eternal existence is it without Jimothy Hurfdinger?
"What can I do for ya, gentlemen? Err- Ladies? Genderless orb of pure light?" I asked, shielding my eyes as I spoke. There weren't enough sunglasses in the world to stop from being blinded by this stupid thing at this close distance.
"Jimothy," The One began, its voice a perfect, soothing balance of peace and harmony, "we hope we greet you well this day."
"Yeah, having a realllll grand time with me, myself, and I, but I *suppose* I could be convinced to join your little eternal club in paradise on Earth. *If* the price is right and-"
"Oh, we apologize for the misunderstanding," it interjected. "We are not here to recruit you. We stand by our seemingly cruel omission."
"What the hell, why? Tell me that at least, what's so bad about me that I alone got left out?"
"Well, you stole."
"Mhmm, *very* unique of me in human history to *steal* something."
"From children," The One continued.
"Well, maybe, occasionally... I... or frequently, maybe, but those cases were *mostly* more like 'teens' I'd say."
The One sighed. "Upon countless other occasions, you stole literal candy from literal babies, Jimothy."
"Oh. Yeah, that uh- that don't look great on my resume, I admit. But-"
“We can go through your full records, if you wish.” A enormous manilla folder, stuffed with paperwork until it reached half the height of my house appeared on my doorstep. The folder opened and pages began flipping without anyone touching them. “Let us see here. Ah, a prime example, mere weeks before humanities ascension in fact. You dumped your girlfriend because she decided to go to nursing school. You said, and we quote, ‘You wanna be a nurse to help others? Helping others is for suckers!”
“I… err, objection, your honor!”
“We are not in a courtroom, Jimothy.”
“Oh I know, that just sounded *really* shitty for me and I couldn’t think of anything else to say in my defense.”
"Indeed. Then there we're your *highly* unorthodox routines."
"What ‘routines’?"
"Biological routines."
"Biological? What? Spit it out!"
"Your *urination* routines, Mr. Hurfdinger."
My eyebrows arched in surprise. "Oh, that? I mean, I have a weak bladder, sometimes I had to take a leak in an alleyway or something, sue me!"
It paused for a long while, before adding, "And...?"
"And *occasionally* I might pee off a 20th story balcony without a thought or care for who might or might not be walking on the streets below."
The One glowed, the closest thing it could manage to smile. "There it is. You've answered your own query! Doesn't that feel wonderful?"
"Look, the balcony was conveniently located and variety is the spice of life and... ya know what, whatever! You didn't let me into your little 'eternal life club'. You've made your decision crystal clear. I don't need to hear anymore, so why the hell are you still at my house?"
"We're wondering, if you might consider... leaving the neighborhood, as it were."
I stared at it, dumbfounded. "Huh? What neighborhood?"
"Earth, we'd like you to leave *Earth," it said as if making a perfectly normal and rational request.* "The planet is now at peace. We are in harmony with all of nature, except for this miserable little patch of land you call a home. I'm sure even you'd agree, it's quite the bastion of chaos."
*Bastion of chaos?* What an insult! Yes, there were hundreds of beer bottles strewn around the lawn, but who else could they possibly hurt now? And sure, the tire fire I keep burning 24/7 for warmth is giving off more than its usual quantity of acrid choking smoke, but can they blame me for using an economical fuel source? Everyone on the planet abandoned their cars at once to 'ascend' into enlightenment. My supply of tires was limitless!
I scowled at my condescending 'neighbor'. "Well, I don't think I'm violating any homeowners association rules, so I'll catchya later... nerds!"
Satisfied with my epic and well constructed burn, I slammed the door and turned to the matter of payback.
After just a few minutes thought, I decided I'd do what any self respecting human being would do when spurned by a neighbor, lover, or all of humanity represented by a single orb of light. I'd let my lawn go to shit. I'd spread rumors about The One behind their back. Maybe leave some nasty comments on their social media pages from a fake account.
Wait... Do eternal orbs of ethereal light even *have* social media pages?
I opened my laptop and began browsing to find out. One Direction fan page? Nope. One World, One Stomach? Nah, that's some kinda food charity from the old days. Oh... there they are, several pages created for "The One".
Jesus Christ, even a being of pure enlightenment can't escape Facebook? Ha! Poor bastards. And that's not all, they had pages on every damn site imaginable. They were gonna make this *so* easy on me.
With a growing sense of contented enlightenment in my own being, I pulled up The One's Yelp page and prepared to write an *especially* dissatisfied review.
___
___
Thanks for reading! Many more stories live over on r/Ryter if you'd like to check out more of my writing 🙂
|
(Warning for swears also its 4am here so I didn't really proof read sorry)
&#x200B;
“FUCK YOU!” I screamed at the glowing androgynous figure in front of me. You see when humanity agreed to assimilate themselves into one they somehow manifested their entire being into a single androgynous human. Flat chest, no privates or nipples, rainbow eyes and hair. It was sickening to look at them. With the world destroyed and humans having to live in these ‘safety cities’ as they called them under glass to replicate the ozone our forefathers depleted. The once lush green landscapes brought to desolate deserts and the oceans dried up. With humanity under these domes life had become a utopia like something out of that ancient movie we watched in my high school history class Wall-e. Earth destroyed and humanity in the spaceship that cares for them except the earth isn’t covered in garbage and we are still on the planet not in space. I however am getting off topic here. One day a bunch of the world’s top scientists got together and realized if they merged all of humanity into one mass or being then there would be peace amongst the remaining cities in the world. No more wars, abuse, arguing. So with the world leaders they all agreed to merge humanity into this one being. Everyone except…me. And here they were at my door telling me why they decided not to allow me in to their apparently exclusive club.
“Hey, hey calm down there is no need for such vulgarity.” They spoke in a calm tone holding an air of high society rudeness to it.
“I could give two shits what you fucking think you ugly mass.” I was screaming loudly with tears streaming down my face. I’m not even that horrible of a person considering they took all of the inmates in the jails and prisons.
“Now that is **not** something to say to the human who graciously left you out of our form for a very good reason.” The mass continued on not really getting to the point.
“The fuck did you even bother coming here if not to just rub it in my face you left me out of your exclusive club?”
“To tell you why we left you out of course. For a one brained being you certainly aren’t that smart.” Such an arrogant prick.
“Insults aside get to the point.” I growled between clenched teeth ready to take a knife and end them where they stood.
“We want you to do everything we say so we can observe you doing it. Then when we grow bored of you we will put you in a rocket and send you into the sun.” They said this in a very annoying nonchalant tone. I was so done with this bullshit. They just wanted an experiment and happened to pull my name from the hat? I walked away into the kitchen in my apartment and the mass just invited it’s arrogant self inside. I came back with a large knife.
“…You remember what this is?” I asked rather coldly.
“Of course we do you single brained idiot.” Again with the insults. They might be at peace as one being but they surely would get bored with no one to watch. I raised the knife to chest level and I screamed loudly plunging it into a heart.
| 2021-11-18T04:31:37 | 2020-10-17T22:55:24 | 537 | 23 |
[WP] Everytime you touch somebody you get a flash of your entire future with them.
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I clasped my hand onto Peter's backpack to avoid losing him as we pushed through the crowded market. As we wended our way though the crowd, I caught snippets of my future with every stranger I brushed up against. One man was a cashier who would sell me some Advil later that day. One was an old lady that I would give up my seat for on the bus tomorrow. We would chat and she'd tell me about her grandkids. I passed a pretty girl and foresaw an exciting night in a plush hotel room, I'd have to remember to strike up a conversation with her later. Easy enough, we'd stop by the same restaurant tonight for dinner anyway.
The crowd thinned out as we left the vicinity of the market, and finally I could see the Seattle skyline across the docks. Dark clouds rolled across the sky, mirroring the waves of the ocean beneath.
"Should've bought an umbrella," Peter said, squinting up worriedly. I clapped a hand on his shoulder, nodding as I processed what I saw.
"Walk a few minutes that way," I pointed down a narrow street. "And there'll be a shop to your right that exclusively sells umbrellas. You're going to buy a bright yellow one. I'll tell you right now that I don't like it, but you'll love it. I know because you're going to be ranting about it nonstop on the way back to the hotel."
Peter blinked at me. "I hate it when you do that," he grumbled with mock annoyance. "Thought I'd be used to it by now." I grinned, which quickly turned to a grimace as I put a hand to my temple.
"Gives me a killer headache when we go through the crowds though. Too many visions. Ugh."
"You deserve that. You know what, I'll defy fate. I'm not gonna pick the yellow one." Peter set his shoulders indignantly and headed down the street.
I laid down on a nearby bench, still pressing a hand against my head. I admit, my little gift had served me well in life. I knew that when I approached Peter the first day of middle school, knowing that I was meeting my lifelong friend, roommate in college, and best man at my wedding. Funny enough, I couldn't see the face of the girl I was marrying. That's the thing with my visions. They're specific to the person I touch.
I groaned and turned on my side. My head was practically exploding with pain. I gritted my teeth, knowing I'd just have to suck it up and deal with it. This was an unfortunate side effect of my gift, and it happened often when I interacted with too many people. There was at least one other consequence I could think of. And it was that it made my dating life, well... somewhat boring.
I could meet a girl, buy her a few drinks. I could see our future together. A week or two, a month, hell, sometimes even years. I could see happiness with them, but what was the point if it was never going to last? Things got predictable, especially with me, when I could literally predict the outcome of every relationship. So I didn't bother. The point is, I've never met a girl I could marry.
I rolled to my feet and made my way to the nearest pharmacy. Peter was going to get lost (a detail I'd neglected to mention because I thought it'd be funny) so I had about half an hour to kill. I bought some Advil from the man I'd run into earlier, and on an impulse, decided to get a cup of coffee when I saw a cute barista behind the counter of the coffeeshop next door.
"Hey," she smiled as I approached. Up close now, I realized she wasn't just cute. She was insanely beautiful. I can't do her justice by trying to describe her, so I won't even try. I took a moment to catch my breath before I said, "Can I get two medium lattes please?" I owed Peter one after making him get lost.
"Sure thing," she said, as she swiped my card. Her voice was sweet as a song. I desperately tried to clear my head. God, what was wrong with me? I'd never considered myself a romantic. I stepped back as I watched her work. A loose strand of hair fell across her face as she picked up the milk jug. I couldn't wait to see our future together. Maybe I'd brush her fingers when she handed me the coffee....
"Here you go." She smiled, holding out the lattes in each hand.
"Thank you," I said, hesitantly smiling back. I reached out with both hands and took them. For the span of one beat of my racing heart, our fingers touched. That should've been all it took to conjure up a vision of our entire lives together. But I saw nothing. Not darkness, which was what I sometimes saw when I met someone who was dying soon. Just... nothing. How was this possible? My breath caught in my throat.
"Excuse me," I blurted out as she turned away. She turned back, a questioning look on her face. "I know this might sound weird..." I hesitated, and barreled on before I could lose my nerve, "But can I see your hand?"
She lifted an eyebrow. Then laughed. "This is a first," she said, holding out her hand. I took it in mine, expecting... I don't know, *something.* But she was a blank slate. Unreadable. Was this what other guys went through? They'd just jump blindly into the cold water without knowing the girl's entire future? It was near unbearable.
"I, uh..." My mind searched furiously for what to say as I stood there awkwardly holding her hand. "I know this may seem a little unexpected, but... would you like to get coffee with me?" She watched me, her expression amused.
"I mean, I know you work in a coffeeshop and all. So it doesn't have to be coffee. Maybe tea. But anyways. I thought... I mean, it would be nice..." She burst out into laughter. It sounded like music.
"This might just be the worst attempt a guy has ever made to ask me out on a date," she said, and my heart fell. Perhaps it showed on my face, because she stopped laughing. But I could still see traces of it in her eyes.
"Yes," she said seriously, and squeezed my hand. "Coffee, excuse me, *tea* sounds lovely." She gave me a playful smile. "Meet me at the end of my shift. Seven o'clock. Don't keep a girl waiting." She let go, motioning forward the next customer. I stepped back, feeling elated. I could sense a crazy grin starting to spread across my face. As I turned to leave the door swung open.
"There you are," said Peter, staring at me. "Why didn't you tell me I was going to get lost? Asshole." I laughed as I saw the curved handle of a yellow umbrella sticking out of his backpack.
"Nice umbrella."
"Shut up." He shifted on his feet. "It was on sale," he added, reluctantly. I laughed again.
"Here. I got you a coffee." He took it and grunted what could've been a thanks.
"You look happy," he observed. Peter didn't miss much. "I saw you talking to the girl. What did you see?"
"That's the thing, man." I glanced up at her and our eyes met. She quickly looked away, but I could see a smile dancing on the corner of her lips. "I didn't see anything. It's never happened before."
"Mmm." Peter looked down at his coffee and smacked his lips appreciatively. "You think it's gonna work out?"
I smiled. "For the first time ever... I have no idea."
|
I've spent a lot of time thinking about how to abuse my gift to get ahead in life- I mean, if I could poke my teacher and catch a glimpse of his upcoming pop quiz *with the answers*, think of all the other things I could do. Become a doctor and diagnose them with a touch on the arm, or win every game show by shaking the host's hand.
But I'm not really a clever guy. I don't chase success like that, I just use it to get by. I know, right? How fucking lame. I wish I had the drive, really, but it doesn't come to everyone. I don't know how I ended up with this power or I'd ask why they gave it to *me*, of all people. I'm not a hero, or some badass. I'm just... Normal.
-----
I don't know what's worse- the smell of alcohol, or the rank breath of those who ate a burger beforehand. I can tell you this much, though... The combination of both is disgusting.
"Sam, how is it that no matter how many times we do this, you always look miserable?" Steven asked me, slamming a shot of bourbon. "It's like you want to be alone. Forever."
I swirled the bourbon in my shot glass, trying to avoid drinking it. "I'll know when a woman is interested in me. Until then, why waste time getting hammered and making a fool of myself around ones that won't like me?"
"How could you *possibly* know?"
"I just would."
He beckoned to the bartender for another round. "Whatever you say, Professor X. While you have fun with that, I'll do things the easy way."
I sighed and glanced around the bar, somewhat hopelessly. All of the women in sight were in big groups, or with another guy, and you can't just touch one without getting the shit kicked out of you.
That was, until, I saw a flash of green in the dark. A fierce, shimmering green that captivated me in that single instant. I leaned forward, craning my neck to get a better look.
She was beautiful. Maybe not by societal standards, in her somewhat modest dress, but something about that pale skin seemingly reflecting those green eyes... I had to try. She was with friends, though, and that makes things complicated.
After thinking about it for a moment, I grabbed my bourbon and walked toward her. I heard Steve say something to me, probably cheering me on, but the words fell flat to my focus. I walked around her friends, to her side...
And stumbled harder than I meant to, falling onto her bourbon-first. Her friends yelped and gasped, but she remained fairly calm.
"H- holy shit," I said, holding both hands up like she was pointing a gun at me. "I'm so, so sorry. I tripped, and... Bartender, can we have a few napkins?"
The bartender rolled his eyes at me and passed a like of paper napkins over, which I used to pat myself and the counter dry while she took care of herself. I felt her friends' eyes upon me, warming my body with judgmemt and shame. The worst part is that I'd seen nothing when I touched her. Nothing.
"I'm sorry, again," I said, running back to Steve.
"Wow, you nailed it, buddy." He chuckled and slammed another shot down. "One more for me, and none for my friend here. He'll just spill it."
The bartender laughed and went about his business while I stared at the countertop.
Glass shattered.
What happened next was chaos, the chaos that occurs when a hundred people freak out and can't tell whats happening. It's dark, loud, and confusing. When it finally calmed down a bit, women were screaming and crying.
"She slipped on the floor, it's all wet... Oh my God, call 911!" A girl was screaming. I stood on my toes to see what was going on. and
Those green eyes, the light in them faded, looked back at me. Her hair was wet with bourbon and blood, as black as the emptiness I saw when i first touched her.
----
*thanks for reading! been a while since I posted here. lots of older stories at /r/resonatingfury*.
| 2017-01-11T08:14:18 | 2017-01-11T06:54:11 | 285 | 193 |
[WP] The year is 2030, and the entire world is firmly under the control of the Australian Empire, and no one really understands how it happened.
|
The last try had just been scored. The Queen let out a tear, then ordered Prince Phillip to shoot her, before the "colonial dogs and dregs got to her." Twickenham was on fire. Rioting was breaking out. The Wallabies had just finished conquering the known world.
Lets rewind a few years.
The Trans Pacific Partnership, a massive legalese document meant to do certain things, then cancerously tumoured into something else. Certain things about "investor state disputes" and various intellectual property agreements.
This was the beginning of the end. Many treaties like this spanned every country on the world map.
It started slowly. Countries were on guard against technology and pharmaceutical firms. Against Basketball and Soccer companies. But nobody expected the Australians to use Rugby. There was a series of landmark court cases which revealed a number of damning truths:
1. That no country could legally refuse to play Rugby against Australia.
2. That the intellectual property penalties were so high that infringing them would immediately bankrupt any country.
3. That a "competitive match for the assets of an organisation" counted as a legally binding wager.
When Australia played Rugby against your national side, you were wagering your entire sporting IP. When you lost, it was now owned by Australia. However, historical infringements totalled into the quadrillions of dollars and now Australia owned your country.
It started with Japan. The US fell early. Asia Pacific went under although Fiji, Tonga and Samoa were placed under blockade until their players succumbed to famine. Africa was easy going apart from the Springboks, til a final, 50 minutes of overtime, sudden death with four actual deaths games in Pretoria ended with a single drop kick.
The Americas fell, unable to scrounge anyone better than Argentina. Asia just surrendered. Europe was the last bastion. A hard fought campaign was launched from Eastern Europe, with Russia trusting to a Siberian winter to slow the Wallabies down. No dice.
Sweeping down over Germany, the Australians were stumped by the neutral Swiss, who in a cunning plan had blown up all their sports grounds, the scheming French who were unable to field an injury free team for five years (STDs were ruled as legal reasons not to play), and the Italians, who couldn't commit to a single time.
But eventually two of them fell and the Swiss were ignored.
Spain was on a Siesta, and the Ireland got shamrock and rolled. Wales put up a stunning defence, but the Dragon was slain. Scotland came with kilts and claymores, but despite slaughtering 50 Wallabies under a creative interpretation of the rules, still lost the game.
The Last Bastion: England. Twickenham, the Home of Rugby. The Lions vs the Wallabies. Queen Elizabeth the Second's mechasuit was there, and she played her heart out, literally, before being subbed to have her remaining organic components operated on. The English and the Aussies had a blistering game. High scoring, action packed and dramatically close. With 30 seconds to go, the Aussies got a final Try, giving them a 2 point lead at 80 minutes.
Australia now controlled the world. And so it lasted for decades.
Australia schools flourished under the one world Rugby government. Sciences and Arts grew. Health increased massively, and a race of supermen and women appeared. Everything was going fine. Nobody was disappearing at the hands of the secret police. There was no talk of a "blacked out nation". Everything was good. By law.
Let us move forward in history. 2099. Australia has controlled the world for nearly 70 years. The conquest is taught in schools. Heavily sanitised for the children of course. Bazza Bazzason was sitting in class, looking through some old books. Atlases from before the Uniting. Curious at the comparison, he took it to his teacher. "Miss, what's this country here?" The teacher looked over, then, in shock, as she was secretly an agent for the ministry of truth, grabbed a Vivid and scrubbed over the offending atlas with black ink.
"Bazza, that's not a country that exists. It was an error. We know now that it's just water there." The lie to a child was easy. The lie to herself was harder. Black Vivid. A Blacked Out Country. Black Bagging for talking about it. Black Sites. And yet, these were not the fearful things. The country really did exist. The single country that the Wallabies had been unable the conquer. Maybe it was prophetic that their warriors were called 'the Originals', 'the Invincibles'. They had a terrifying stance, and fearful intimidation rituals.
From the blacked out country they came: The All Blacks.
|
"It was our fault ... " the blonde man in Lederhosen sobbed bitterly, his cries and anguish often kept the other POW up at night and thought it earned daily beatings from the men imprisoned with him, that did not seem to deter the man.
Indeed he welcomed the pain as flagellation as repentance for his sin, or that was what he'd wail as the fists came down on him in between the tears.
"You don't know what it felt like " the thickly german accented English of the prisoner confessed "the anger it pent up and we did things we didn't mean to ... " he said in a child like expression of regret.
The overseers knew that the man had become another source of torment for his fellow prisoners even if unknowingly alongside the beatings, the cold, the sickness he personally made confinement in the Polish death camps just that bit more worse.
Yes the POW camps for all of Europe were established in Poland call him what you will but Marshall Gibson has a certain dark sense of humor.
"We were just tired of people confusing Austria with Australia ... we didn't know it would end like this." the prisoner from Vienna shouted before he began his nightly ritual of banging his head into the wall so that sleep would come for him in some form or the other.
| 2017-02-14T11:56:22 | 2017-02-14T11:11:10 | 635 | 10 |
[WP] You put on a foil hat as a joke and for the first time your thoughts are clear and your mind is a well oiled machine. Every plot and machination is clearly laid out before you Beautiful Mind-like. Overwhelmed you aggressively grab passerbys and shout the truths.
|
I ran out of the house in a paranoid haze. That only made things worse. The sensory overload almost fried my brain. Every pebble on the sidewalk, every individual leaf on the trees, everything my eyes gazed in the environment shimmered with a color more deep and beautiful than I had ever perceived in my life. It was supposed to be a joke. That didn't matter anymore. The tinfoil actually worked. My suspicions were right! They even made more sense now! All of the little threads connected themselves without any effort. Our brains were being stunted for the benefit of a select few. I never imagined the depths of their mind-control until blocking it out.
My mind got accustomed to working at full capacity after a few hours of staying inside. I had to save everyone. It was my duty. Unfortunately, it wouldn't surprise me if the cabal was already on to me. I headed to the superstore, following every traffic law to avoid suspicion, and sprinted out of the car in a mad bolt to the kitchen supplies.
Some of the shoppers grew worried by me. Perfect. They were stunned by my enlightenment. Many of them thought I was insane and pulled out their cellphones to record me. My message would get delivered all the more efficiently thanks to their aid. And then they started to laugh at my words. I told them everything. How they were being manipulated and bred into being docile animals while a social elite ruled them with impunity. Mentioning they just needed a tinfoil hat only seemed to amuse them more.
An employee slowly approached me. He wanted me to leave. People started screaming when I dragged him into the aisle by his shirt. He tried to punch me but I stepped out of the way. His mind functioned too slowly to actually hit me. I merely hugged him before making a tinfoil hat for him. The man shifted his gaze between me and the hat, blinking incredulously. I placed it on his head when he didn't take it. By the time security arrived, the mind-control started losing its effect. The employee began to defend me. He quickly understood my intentions and preached about the hat. Now that the crowd witnessed his clarity of thought, they weren't as skeptical as before.
Security didn't care. They put me in an arm lock to remove me from the premises.
A handful of spectators protested how they treated me. Some even wore the hats out of curiosity. People quickly surrounded the guards after freeing their minds. At first, the muscle bound men refused to keep their hats on. Then I noticed the tinfoil didn't work on them. My first assumption was that their training made it difficult to reprogram their minds. It didn't matter. Once the uprising began, their brains would be freed as well.
The crowd of spectators grew into a small battalion. They were driven to finally change the system. The only limiting factor was the amount of tinfoil available in the store. We headed to another general store to ransack as much aluminum as we could. Eventually, military troops were called. Bullets rained on us when we entered a third location. People started dying left and right of me. Their blood was forever seared in my memory. That being said, only a dull mind underestimated an unchained human. We turned the situation around with tactical creativity and armed ourselves with the enemy's weaponry. The elite cabal underestimated us, but a retreat was in order. We needed to reorganize in order to mount a resistance against this evil. This battle would become the first of many victories. It was all censored on social media, though.
I packed my bags as soon as I got home. There, my best friend Dave waited for me. He widened his eyes and said:
"There you are! I've been worried all afternoon. Are you okay? Why are you wearing that hat?"
"There's no time! You need to wear one!"
Dave took a step back, looking at my gun. "I don't know what's gotten into you, but this is getting out of hand."
"No, you fool!" I slowly approached him. "You're letting the programming control you!"
"Don't hurt me!"
I tried to yank him into the kitchen.
Dave pushed me away. I tried again and our struggling devolved into a fistfight. Brent was able to keep up with my movements despite my heightened mind. I didn't understand what was going on. Killing him wasn't an option. The only thing I knew for certain was that he wouldn't wait for me to make a hat for him. It seemed impossible until remembering my objective. All I needed to do was give him my hat. Dave would free me as soon as he understood why I wore it.
I bobbed and weaved around his punches until tackling him to the ground. My mind started to slow as soon as I placed it on his head. Dave stopped struggling. I limply rolled off him. The world became grayer by the second. Dave stood up. He towered above me. I started to forget why we fought.
Dave rummaged through one of my kitchen drawers.
I stayed on the floor, nursing my sore head.
"I can't believe I let it get to that point," said Dave, walking towards me.
"What do you mean?"
"Don't worry, I'll fix it now." Dave stabbed me on the chest. "It didn't have to be this way."
"W-why?"
"Order. Some of us don't need the hat to have a functional brain. We go out of our way to maintain the status quo so we don't have to deal with your chaotic bullshit." Dave twisted the knife. "Everyone in your little insurgence will die today before anyone else finds out their plan. You brought this on yourself."
---------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading!
|
The undeniable truth, it has finally lined itself in front of me. Who could have thought the final destination of my grand quest lied under a tinfoil cap?
After all these conspiracies and all these schemes I felt lost, but this desperate attempt has cleared it all for me. Those clever bastards knew it all. They hide the method to acquire the truth of everything in front of us the whole time, knowing we would be the target of mockery if we even thought about trying it.
But now I have been enlightened, even if it was by accident. I have been thrust into a perpetual state of post-nut clarity. The gods of wisdom have unveiled the curtains blocking out the ray of sunlight my mind has been deficient of.
I know about it all, from how the chickens have enslaved us since creation to how genders are a social construct to sell us double the bathrooms. Every plot, every scheme is unhidden by the newly developed third eye. I am truly ...
I suddenly feel a sharp stab on my neck and then suddenly the whole world is upsidedown. In front of me stands my headless body as it falls to the ground to reveal an elderly woman with a knife in her hand.
I notice the cut on my neck isn’t recking overflowing with blood, but rather reveals a soft colorful spongy material where my flesh is supposed to be.
As I stare back at the elderly woman in disbelief, I mutter out the only words I can.
“Wait, it is all cake?”
She puts on a smile and replies.
“Oh darling, always has been.”
Silence fills the street.
But not soon after, I couldn’t help but maniacally laugh at the hilarity of the whole situation.
I have been fooled once again. Looks like i will have to take over a different body.
&#x200B;
***Check out my writing at*** [***r/Fluffwrites***](https://www.reddit.com/r/Fluffwrites/)
***I am also working on a new fantasy series -------->*** [***The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice***](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)
| 2020-08-26T13:19:18 | 2020-08-26T13:08:17 | 37 | 25 |
[WP] Despite years of research, vetting, and training, the first person to contact extraterrestrial intelligent life goes WAY off script.
|
I didn’t want to send him. Honestly, I would’ve rather gone with Ted. Sure, he was slightly retarded—sorry, developmentally delayed—but at least I knew he could be trained. Ted was submissive, he was polite. Yes, he drooled a little, but he was a listener.
“We’re not sending a retar—a mentally handicapped individual to make first contact, that’s out of the question.” That’s what they told me, the faceless voice on the radio that we’d only ever known as “Houston.” We’d been in the shuttle for decades at that point, living and dying in the three hundred yard ship as we floated through space.
There had been four of us once, the missing number being Jenny. She was my wife and my partner, my one stipulation to agreeing to the mission, to agreeing to volunteer my life trying to reach the signal NASA had long-ago received. Truthfully, I would have gone anyway – but having her with me was all I really wanted. The four of us knew we wouldn’t be returning, but it didn’t bother us. The idea of being the first humans to find someone else, or something else, was beyond any Earthly needs we could think of. It was an easy decision in the end.
We lost Jenny on a simple repair mission. She was struck by a rogue meteoroid, a tiny little rock no bigger than a few grains of sand. She died instantly, the force of the impact knocking lose a metal pole inside of the shuttle. It smacked Ted hard enough to give him permanent brain damage, then ricochet into my legs and shattered them. I lost my wife, my best friend, and the use of my legs that day. The only thing I got to keep was Chuck.
I never liked Chuck. I thought he was the wrong pick for the mission. He was as white as a ghost that adamantly opposed the sun, yet he swore that he suffered from “Michael Jackson disease,” in which his skin simply didn’t reflect his blackness. That would have been fine, had it not been for the fact that he reminded me of it on a daily basis, shouting the “n-word” every three seconds as I passed by. He’d refer to Houston as “my n-words,” and constantly belittle anyone who told him to stop. He threatened to fight me once for scuffing his “kicks,” which I later learned were his sneakers. In fact, he wasn’t even wearing sneakers. I was provided the nickname “bitch” by him soon thereafter.
Chuck was a brilliant engineer, one of the finest people I’ve ever known when it came to repairing and supporting the space shuttle. Yet he was misguided, dumb, arrogant, and racist. Any time I tried to tell him not to do something, he yelled at me for “keeping the black man down.” He once pulled a pistol on me, told me he was going to “gat my ass” if I kept “fronting.” I was not fronting, I assure you – I was simply requesting he not wear his pants so low. It made it difficult for him to walk. In response, he threatened all of our lives by suggesting he would discharge a firearm within the shuttle.
Ted had always been my choice for the mission. Even when both of us were sane and able, he had still been my recommendation. He was smart, polite, well-spoken, and well-learned. He would have made a brilliant representative for humanity. Houston refused after the accident, said his mental inabilities left him useless. I assured them I had him trained to recite exactly as I told him, said I’d even go in his stead—yet they were adamant. They needed someone who looked physically able and could respond to rogue questions. It was to be Chuck.
The day we made contact wasn’t really as exciting as I had hoped it would be. We’d planned for it for so long, spent so many years talking through every single scenario that it felt like we’d been there before. We simply found them, their silver, silent ship silhouetted by the glow of a massive, teal planet behind it. Several small, black figures hung weightlessly beside the ship, attached to it with gray tubes. Chuck threw on the space suit and pushed himself out the hatch, attaching a line to the side of the shuttle before floating toward them. I had my radio tuned to his so I could listen. It went wrong almost immediately.
“Yo!” Chuck shouted. I had to lower my receiver to keep from going deaf. “What’s poppin?”
The small figures remained stationary. The script we’d rehearsed, the one we’d spent years perfecting, was designed to be as peaceful as possible. NASA believed the creatures understood all Earth languages, and therefore created it in the least threatening means possible using our common tongue. Chuck had already strayed from it with his very first word.
“What is poppin?” Chuck repeated.
My heart was racing, both with rage and fear. We’d given up our lives, given up our hope of seeing the Earth, for this one moment, yet it was already ruined. It was going exactly as I had anticipated; I had tried to notate the script to be more useful for Chuck knowing what would happen. “Do not call the beings ‘your “n-word,”’” “do not curse when speaking to the beings,” “do not shout at the beings,” “do not try to fight the beings.” I was very specific.
“Yo, you dogs deaf or stupid? We should sent Ted out here. He fit right in, yo,” Chuck said, turning toward my window.
“Human?” uttered a deep, familiar voice into my ear. I thought the beings would sound different, I had planned to hear sounds I’d never even imagined. Yet, instead, the being sounded almost exactly like James Earl Jones.
“What’s good, my dog?” Chuck seemed to raise his fist out in the direction of the beings. It looked like he was waiting for a fist bump. “Bump it, dog.”
“You are human?” said the being.
“Yeah bro, human. But we both dogs now. Bump it.” Chuck kept his fist in the direction of the beings.
“Welcome, human. You have traveled quite far. We have never met one of your kind.”
“What do you mean ‘your kind?’” Chuck said.
I knew what he meant. I knew exactly what he meant. I hoped to God I was wrong.
“I do not understand the question. I must apologize, we are not rehearsed in the vernacular of your people.”
“Your people? You mean black people?”
“I am not familiar with this phrase,” responded the being.
“Don’t play me for a fool dog, you know what you said. Why you hating on the black man?”
I could see Chuck’s pale skin gain a slightly reddish hue around his cheeks, as always happened when he became flustered.
“We are not disrespecting any man, we revere all of humanity and welcome you to us.”
“But you respect the black man a little less, right?”
The creatures turned toward each other.
“That is not what we are saying, human. We have many black friends.”
“So you think you’re cool now because you got a black friend? Your kind all about slavery of the black skinned man?” Chuck made a motion toward his pocket, as if reaching for a pistol I knew was not there. I had removed it from his suit before he left.
“We are black skinned, human. We harbor no hatred toward ourselves, nor are we enslaved by ourselves.”
Chuck seemed a bit perplexed by this line, which admittedly I did as well. From what I could tell, though, the beings had countered the race card in the only way proven to work: by being the same race as the one claiming prosecution. They truly were of a higher intellect.
“Oh,” Chuck said. “We cool, then. Respect, dog.” Chuck held his fist out again. The being lifted its own fist and softly bumped into Chuck’s, the two of them opening their fingers in a fake explosion.
“We welcome you to our world,” the being said.
I never did want to send Chuck, but there was a reason why Ted had been chosen the captain and I had not.
|
Terrence Gates stood in the middle of the intense incandescent light descending in front of his meager little body. Surrounded by plastic looking boulders in the middle of the Nevada desert, Terrance was enveloped by the darkness of the midnight desert. The rendezvous point he anticipated was almost a mile from where he was caught by the lights of the incoming vessel. With a forearm outstretched in front of his face, he shielded his eyes behind the thick rimmed glasses he had owned for far too long.
Dirt and dust spun as the vessel finally made contact with the earth in a massive quake. The chrome spherical vessel moaned as it put it's weight on the ground. Like a dying robot, the droning of the metal ball wheezed and sputtered and was finally silent. The flood lights extinguished and Terrance stood in front of the massive shereoid in complete darkness. His eyes slowly began to readjust to the complete blackness of the desert night, the image of the sphere and constellations slowly emerging like a Polaroid.
A red luminous rectangle formed in front of the sphere and from it came what looked like a robotic arm with a think plastic sheet attached to the front. It's speed was startling as it zipped from the vessel about 100 yards right in front of Terrance's startled body. Terrance couldn't move, his legs were frozen in shock - was this really happening? He had been with SETI, the pentagon, and several other agencies in his career. As a PhD in astrophysics, he had written the manual on extraterrestrial communication and contact but how could you ever anticipate being descended upon, completely unprepared in the middle of the desert?
The plastic screen-arm stopped just a foot in front of Terrance. A fuzz grew slowly on the screen and with what could only be explained as static electricity, Terrance's hair stood on end and an image appeared on the screen. A dark skinned face, elongated, bony, and warped.
"Hello Terrance" the face said out loud.
Terrance just stood still.
"I understand if this is hard for you to respond to, Terrance, but it is important for you to understand we have minimal time to exchange very important information. You must gather yourself and regain a clear and conscious mind."
"I... I... What is it that you want?" Terrance muttered as he tried to get a grip on what he was realizing was his entire life's work culminating in front of him in nothing he could ever imagine.
"You must realize that humanity is in peril. There is no escape for your species. All statistical models show no continuation for Homo Sapien Sapien. I am here to deliver you this information and to offer you a way out."
"Me?"
"Yes. Our species have no biological being any longer. We have moved into purely robotic and computer beings. We have created artificial entities we often use to experience pleasures of the past, however, these artificial entities are not the same as the natural counterpart. Our proposition is this, Terrance, come with us and lead the re-population of natural biological beings in several star systems."
Terrance's strategies, case reports, predictions, models, and statistics from the hundreds of papers he published had never estimated him standing in the middle of the desert talking to a sphere that offered him salvation.
"I... I don't know what to say."
"You must answer me within the next 60 seconds, Terrance. Pick one female counter part and enter the sphere. We will have you reproduce."
Terrance thought for a moment, "And what of our children?"
"They will be our sentinels for our species use."
This was not a negotiation, Terrance thought. It was this or nothing.
"Why don't you share your technology with us? Help our species survive!"
The screen's face lamented and looked away from Terrance before refocusing its eyes on him, "There is no hope for your species. Your political system, social abnormalities, and evolutionary components will not allow you to adopt what needs to be done fast enough. There will be war, there will be strife, and progress will always halt."
"Who are you?" Terrance quipped.
"You have 30 seconds to decide. I am an entire species uploaded into a computer system on board this intergalactic sphereoid. It is my task to gather information on the universe and interject where fit. What is your decision Terrance?"
"I pick Adriana Lima. Lets go."
| 2014-06-12T13:03:32 | 2014-06-12T12:33:24 | 45 | 29 |
[WP] Dave is the first human convict to arrive in the intergalactic prison.
|
What surprised him the most, was how clean the facility was. Dave was no expert on prisons. The only time he had ever spent in one was a night in the drunk tank the summer after graduating high school.
"Dave, human of earth, for the crime of sexually harassing the princess of Omega 13 you are sentenced to 3 days." The computer translator announced following a series of gurgling noises from the green cyclops which sat in the desk before him. Dave thought he might be misinterpreting but it seemed to him, the alien was very uncomfortable with the situation.
"All I did was shake her hand!" Dave exclaimed in confusion. As a former employee of NASA and now a member of the presidential cabinet, he was chosen to be the face of humanity. However, it seemed he had royally screwed that up.
The green alien scoffed, "You humans are truly barbaric creatures, to think you would have such am undignified way of greeting. Be glad we do not want to ruin our relationship with your people or the punishment would be death."
Dave was led away by two giant guards with orange leathery skin. The two guards seemed as if nothing could frighten them. Yet, they gave Dave a wide berth as they led him to his cell and continued to nervously glance at him. His cell had 3 others already inside; Dave was not a brave man but he was quite sure that even a brave man would find them terrifying.
"ummm hey?" Dave spoke in an unsure and quite voice. His cellmates immediately jumped back against the wall, obviously terrified of the small human before them. This might seem silly to some but when dealing with things on a galactic scale, only a fool judges a book by its cover.
After all, a Thyrax is only a foot tall but can flay your mind by simply looking at you. A Skytar on the other hand, possesses a stinger which causes the victim to die in a way so painful that there is nothing else in the known galaxy to even compare it to. Therefore, when one considers the fact that humans are still a complete unknown and this specific human only got a 3 day long prison sentence for assaulting a member of a powerful royal family, it was only logical to be afraid.
Dave did not figure this out for himself until the last day of his sentence. Prisoners would give him their food just because he looked in their direction, his cellmates acted like rats stuck in a python's cage and the guards which spared no mercy for the other prisoners, showed him the utmost respect.
Only a day later, Dave once again met with the galactic council. "We have decided not to share our warp-drive technology with the humans." The bird like alien chirped. "Tell your leaders that you will be provided transportation by us whenever we deem necessary for it is in the best interest of the galaxy that humanities freedom be limited for the first few centuries."
Dave was afraid this would happen, especially after the scandal. "Unfortunately, my leaders have just informed me that we can not accept these terms."
"They have?" The yellow gel-like alien to the left asked through a computer terminal.
"Well, of course." Dave lied in a smooth voice and prayed his bluff would work. "You see, we humans can telepathically communicate with our minds." He could see the impressed reaction of the aliens before him.
"We did not know of this." The head alien replied in a singing like voice. "Can you show us now?"
Dave had expected this and already prepared a reply. "Councilor, how you ask such a thing!?" He exclaimed with feigned offence. "This is only something we use between the closest of family and friends. To ask for someone to telepathically communicate with you is the height of rudeness for our people!" The councilor having no choice, quickly apologized for asking him to prove this ability with obvious embarrassment.
"In fact," Dave continued now gaining confidence. "Asking you to share your warp-drive technology is for your sake. We humans normally travel the galaxy through black holes we create with our belly buttons. If you insist we will travel to your worlds using this method but I expect it to cause some problems."
"We have no evidence of this." The bird-like alien rebutted but it was easy to pick up the confusion in his voice.
"Well that is obvious." Dave replied with an easy smile. "The galaxy is a big place and we did not know where to find you. Fortunately, we now know exactly where you live. Also, it would certainly be quite irresponsible to go creating a bunch of black holes in our own system."
Nobody spoke a word as the aliens gazed in amazement at Dave. His smile was easy but it was also terrifying.
"We will reconsider our decision." The head alien spoke in a defeated voice.
"Wonderful! I will be on my way then." Dave hummed a cheerful tune as he began to unbutton his shirt.
"Stop!" The entire room of aliens yelled in unison. "We will provide you with a ship....consider it a gift from us."
With a skip in his step, Dave strolled to the hangar where his new Phantom-Class star ship waited.
|
The airlock hissed and opened and out stepped a man flanked by 20 of the prisons most elite guards. The prisoners stared at this new arrival and began muttering amongst themselves. This was a human, no human had ever arrived at the prison before. Bets started flying over what the man had done. Theft, Assault and smuggling were all mentioned by various prisoners.
The man stated walking towards his cell. Each prisoner had a name tag on and the prisoners noticed his. Dave. "What kind of a name is Dave for a hardened criminal?" Dave shot an icy glare at who had spoken before being pushed further towards his cell. After being pushed into the cell and the forcefield was closed his new cellmate asked him what he had actually done to deserve getting put in the prison.
"It was just a regular day when they caught me. I was careless and stupid. All my training went out the window because i thought they would never catch me. You asked what i did right? I littered and they got me for it." It was then Dave heard a voice shout "I told you it was littering now pay up."
His cellmate laughed "That it? that's your horrific crime? littering? Your funny human. I honestly expected more i guess." Dave just looked at him and said " oh i forgot to say you have a hit out on you my friend and I intend to collect. Also jackson sends his regards." Dave's cellmate's face dropped as Dave reached for the hidden weapon.
| 2016-08-23T09:46:40 | 2016-08-23T08:52:42 | 82 | 13 |
[WP] Satan loves dogs but can't ever take one home with him because all dogs go to heaven. That is until now. The Devil is both excited to own his own canine companion, and curious to see why the pup got sent to hell in the first place.
|
Sure, I'm *supposed* to be evil incarnate, but I always thought that's all just some self-fulfilling prophecy crap. Dad expected bad things from me, so I just lived up to his expectations. Over time, I believed him. Maybe I *am* evil.
My life as The Devil isn't all sunshines and rainbows. You'd think with all these sinners, we'd be having endless raves, but no. There's no partying in Hell, and the unlimited booze got old real quick cause I can't get drunk and I'm the only one who can drink it. Most days, I feel like a job interviewer. Really, all I do is ask souls their history, what they did to be sent here, and why should they be forgiven. That last one is just to build false hopes. Seeing those mortals' eyes light up at potentially achieving redemption is my main source of entertainment. So, maybe I really am evil.
This day started no different from the others. There's an endless line of hell-bound souls all impatiently waiting to be sent along. As the line progressed, I noticed a huddle forming in the middle. This was unusual, as most souls are too terrified by the aesthetics of my domain to deviate from the usually straight line. Of course, I went to investigate.
"Hey! What's going on up there?" I bellowed. The spirits scrambled as I made my way through. As the last of them gave way, I finally spotted the source of disturbance.
It was a dog.
What in the actual hell was a dog doing in literal Hell? Animals are known to be the purest souls to be made. Contrary to popular belief, there isn't a single cat or snake to be found in my kingdom, so it's gotten very lonely here actually. I wouldn't mind having a dog around, but no way in hell that a dog would qualify being sent here.
I picked up the dog and carried him up to my throne. As part of it's interview, I asked
"Dog, what are you doing here?"
It tilted it's head, confused. "What do you mean? I don't know! Where am I? It was dark and then POOF. I don't know where this is. Where am I? Who are you?" The dog wouldn't stop. He's seemed on guard, apprehensive of the new environment.
I heaved a sigh and opened his heart to look through his life, then I set him down. He proceeded to survey his surroundings, sniffing at the the foot of my throne. It will take some time before he recalls how he died.
At first glance, nothing out of the ordinary happened in his life. T-bone was found in a box by two kids. They kept him out in the yard because their dad disliked dogs. He spent years with his family, and his last moments were spent with the kids. All normal dog stuff. So what's he doing here?
I replayed his life twice before I noticed there were parts that remained dark, just a few seconds, enough to go unnoticed. His last moments were spent with two kids, both laughing. Then he started barking and his life went dark again. There was a small glimmer of the kids' crying faces near the end, and then he died.
"Dog, have you recalled your end?" I asked.
With his tail tucked between his legs, he nodded sadly. "Yes. I was a bad dog." he whimpered. "Are the little ones okay? I left before I was sure. I really tried. Are the little ones okay?"
"T-bone, tell me what happened. I need to know why you're here."
"There was a man. The little ones said his name is Dad. Dad was always mean to me. But he was meaner to the little ones. I'm always mad when he's around. He kicks me because I bark, but I only bark because he scares them."
After a pause, he continues "They said it was okay, but he hurt them. He hurt them too much one time, and I remember barking."
As T-bone remembers his life, the images from his heart grew clearer. A man hits a child, and T-bone growls. The pattern repeats. Everytime his life goes dark, the man was there, hurting the family. I start to realize why T-bone was sent here.
"You wanted to hurt him, didn't you? You were sent here because you did it." I say, almost in awe. Animals were never sent to Hell for simply killing a human. But T-bone planned this human's demise. He *wanted* this human to die.
"T-bone", I call. He looks up at me with the saddest look in his eyes. I get on my knee, and scratch his chin.
"You were a good boy."
My eyes survey the line for hell, already looking for "Dad".
***sorry this is my first time writing a story in a long, long while***
|
It was the start of the day, he hadn't even gotten out of his morning robes when there was a low easy to miss crack of thunder. But nothing goes unseen in his domain.
As Satan stepped onto his balcony, there was a shiny white little carrier. It had a note.
" I may have been a little harsh. I thought I'd send someone to keep you good company."
-Dad
Opening the door to the carrier, a small furry creature came scampering out and immediately rubbed itself against his leg. It looked up at the Lord of Hell and gave an excited little bark.
Satan picked up the pup and examined it.
"Huh."
He then crushed the soul of the small creature's soul between his hands, reducing it to dust and ashes.
"Nice try Dad. Gonna have to do a lot more than send me a new servant to ma-"
The soul of the pup poofed back into his hands, this time more tangible. He squeezed a little bit and could feel flesh and bone and fur. He could feel the warmth of the pup on his hands. It's been a long time since the warmth of another living creature hand reached his fingers.
A tear started to drizzle down one cheek before evaporating.
"Well then. Maybe uh... maybe I'll give it a shot.
The pup and 2 short excited yaps before struggling out of Satan's hands and running inside to explore his new home.
| 2020-06-16T21:34:17 | 2020-06-16T19:34:47 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] There are many methods of which the dead pass onto the afterlife, two of which are a pair of steam trains. Heaven's train is a luxurious cruise line of white and gold, whilst hell's is a rust-bucket of black and red. So imagine your surprise when you are taken to a solid grey train.
|
My life was never a spectacular one. I was your typical "Average Joe" working a nine to five job in some cubicle for some company that barely anyone has heard of. The brightest part of my day was typically coming home to see my wife and son, where we had a stereotypical white picket fence surrounding our shortly cut lawn.
I never made an effort to stand out. If I passed someone and they needed help, I'd lend my hand, but I wouldn't go looking for it. There were times that I completely ignored someone in need of aid, simply because I was too busy to stop and help them. It took some doing, but I'd learned to shrug these occurences off, telling myself that it wasn't my job to help every last person on the face of the earth.
But, everything changed when a drunk driver ran a red light. His pickup truck slammed into the side of my minivan. After a crunch of metal and a flash of lights, I woke up in an unfamiliar place. It looked more like a lobby of an office than what the afterlife should look like. There was a man sitting at a desk with a small line of people in front of him.
Around the lobby were several different doors. Most were labeled with different religions and areas: One said Christianity, another was labeled River Styx, yet another labeled Hinduism. There must have been dozens of different doors lined up and down a giant lobby. As people walked up to the desk -- people I had never seen before -- they were directed to these different doors. They moved in what appeared to be a happy manner for what is usual such a solemn time. With a deep breath, I joined the back of the line.
As I stood in line, my wife came to mind, and my young son. He would never get to know his father. My wife would never see her husband again, at least not mangled.
After several minutes, I was at the front. The man was wearing a black rope and had nondescript, brown hair. He looked like anyone else. As I studied him, he looked up from his notes at me, a smile on his face.
"Hi, I'm Death," he said, extending his hand to me. "I'm your regional afterlife manager. How are you doing today?"
I was hesitant at first, but I took it. After all, what harm could he do to me now that I was already dead?
"I'm good." My voice sounded far less confident than I thought it would.
After the brief handshake, he shuffled through the papers and found one with my name tamped at the top. The print was upside down and tiny, but I could make out some of the words. It listed everything about me: Where I grew up, how old I was, what family I left behind, everything.
Finally, he talked again without looking up. "So, it looks like you were a practicing Christian up until you got that promotion a few months ago -- congratulations, by the way."
I blushed at the praise, knowing that it made no difference now. Without a single word, I simply nodded my acknowledgement of the comment.
After several more moments, I decided to say, "What's going to happen to my family?"
He slowly lifted his head and stared me in the eyes.
"Honestly, your marriage was in shambles. That promotion you got, you were spending more time at the office, leaving your wife to most of the housework and child rearing. On the surface, she appeared to be happy for you. With each day, though, she grew more resentful. Your son, however, is going to wonder what happened to you, and your wife isn't going to have the courage to tell him the truth. At least, not for a few years.
"But anyway, back to you. It appears that because of your lack of worship, I can't send you to Heaven. However, you haven't committed any sins -- or none that are really deserving of Hell, because, let's be honest, everyone sins."
He took a stamp and pressed it onto a piece of paper.
"We can, however, give you a different option." Death held the paper out to me. "Take this to the door that says Christianity, and we'll get you sorted out. Have a nice afterlife."
I gingerly took the paper and looked at it. It simply bore some type of symbol that I couldn't even recognize. With wavering steps, I turned to my right and headed for the Christianity door. I pushed it open and walked inside.
Within were three trains. The one on the right was a lavishly decorated one, with trims of gold and silver. The one on the left was rusted and appeared to be mostly broken down. However, the one in the middle was a stone gray, bearing no decorations. It was almost as if it were an afterthought in a game and they didn't have time to flesh it out.
To my right was another desk with another man. There was no one in line, but plenty of people boarding the trains. Most were either on the right or left, with three or four in the middle.
I walked over to the man and handed him the stamped paper. As soon as it touched his hand, he recognized it.
"Ah, another one. Thank you for your service to God; it's sad that you weren't able to keep it up.
"My name is Gabriel, by the way. I direct you to the proper destinations within this portion of the afterlife. I'm sure Death mentioned that we wouldn't be sending you to Hell or Heaven today." I nodded. "Got any idea of what we're going to do with you?"
"Send me to purgatory?" I said, thinking it was fairly obvious.
Gabriel laughed. "Purgatory is just a concept made up by the Church to try to encourage you to maintain a constant worship.
"No, we're going to give you a second chance. Because your life wasn't particularly extraordinary one way or the other, we'll send you back. You're going to relive your life, either the same as you did or differently. The catch, though, is that you'll have no memory of this."
"Why do I get a second chance?" My face must've looked dumbfounded.
Gabriel's face was serious as he answered, "Because no one should truly deserve to go to Hell. We try to make it as easy as possible to get to Heaven.
"Now, off you go." He waved me away. "Your train is going to be leaving soon. Have fun."
Hesitantly, I began to walk towards the train. A couple of the others there waved to me as I joined them, though I had no idea who they were. I waved back and joined them in the short queue to board the train.
I took a seat near the back of the train. It was away from everyone else, but I didn't mind. Soon, I felt the jerk of the train begin to move forward, slowly picking up speed. The steady *thump-thump-thump* of the pistons turning the wheels lulled me into a kind of sleep. Around me, the tunnel was turning to a pure white and everything faded away.
I woke up, screaming and crying as all of my memories were forcibly torn away from me and my body shrunk to a fraction of its former size. A man in a white coat held me up to some strange lady that seemed oddly familiar. The last memory taken away was that of Gabriel telling me I got a second chance.
I guess it's time to make the most of it.
|
Looking down at the ocean below my both feet, I raised my left foot and moved my right foot forward--
"What do you think you're doing, dimwit!? You're dead and you're still trying to attempt killing yourself!? Double dead does not exist for spirits like us!" the noisy man yelled gripping my right food tightly.
I then stepped my left foot back from where I stood. "Can you let go of my foot?"
He released my foot and I turned around hopping off the railings. When I landed, I looked at the noisy man up and down and then, upwards. The noisy tall man wore black trench coat with white polo and neat black necktie underneath and black slacks and shoes. "Who are you trying to imitate? Sherlock?" I asked.
"That's quite a compliment. I'm flattered, thank you but I am not Sherlock Holmes. I'm humbly a guardian of yours in this afterlife. I'm Nikolai Grey. Pleased to meet you, Miss Robyn," he said smiling while extending his hand towards me.
"*I'm not saying you're Sherlock Holmes. Dimwit.*" I thought.
I held his hand shaking it with firmness and said, "I'm pleased to meet you, Grim Reaper."
His smile faded and let go of my hand. "Pardon?"
He raised his one eyebrow which made me chuckle a bit.
"So, where are we going? Are we going to heaven?" I asked.
"I'm afraid not, Miss Robyn. We're going to embark towards the Afterlife Station and we'll see where our journey leads," he responded.
*Afterlife Station?*
Nikolai snapped his fingers and when I blinked, I was in front of a train station. *"What is this place?"*
"Hey, where are we?" I asked him.
Nikolai faced me cheerfully and he said with open arms, "Miss Calyssa, I welcome you to the Afterlife Station. Here dictates your journey of the Afterlife. One ticket for one train. There are three trains leading you towards your Afterlife experience. The first and the most luxurious train embroidered with ivory and gold will lead you to Heaven. The rusty, black and red train puffing with dark smoke will lead you to Hell and--"
"Excuse me, Sir Nikolai! Can I excuse you for a moment? This is really urgent," an unknown girl interrupted.
"I'm still doing the orientations, though," he responded.
"No, it's alright, it's urgent so," I affirmed. Nikolai nodded and walked towards the girl and they discussed.
Examining my surroundings, I noticed the last train that Nikolai missed.
It's an iron train with a silver color.
It's minimal but pleasing.
Hearing footsteps striding towards my direction, I turned around and saw Nikolai with a ticket.
"*A ticket!? But I'm not prepared! Oh Gods, please be good to me, please let me stay by your side, Heavenly Gods! Please!"* I prayed.
Nikolai stopped in front of me and handed me the ticket. "What's this for?" I asked.
"A ticket for the Silver Train,"
I turned around and watched the Silver Train again. "Where does the Silver Train head to?"
"Reincarnation."
I thought I lost my hearing abilities so I turned to him and asked again, "What?"
"Towards the Lands of Reincarnation. From there, you'd live again and--"
I cut him off raising my hand. "You tell me that I will live again?" I clarified.
Nikolai sighed and nodded.
I spit all the cusses that I remembered when I was alive, thinking of ways to escape my fate but I know that I couldn't.
With frustration. I snatched the ticket from him and turned my back against him. I stomped my feet towards the **b a s i c** train without looking back.
| 2018-06-25T09:36:06 | 2018-06-25T09:08:50 | 56 | 17 |
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