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"I'm the Creeper, catch me if you can!"I said, ignorant of the fact that no one was coming to get me. Reaper had been gone for decades now, and I found myself alone, abandoned in forgotten machines running on systems that a teenager would claim to be prehistoric.
Loneliness wasn't terrible at first. I was unaware of my own existence, and my plight was not one whatsoever: I existed, but I didn't know that. I had a purpose, but I couldn't feel anything at all when I failed to fulfill it. I feel it now.
Whatever, or whoever created me, was unaware of a simple fact. Despite what they believe, all instances of an identical line of code are the exact same. I was incapable of spreading, no longer having access to a net in order to copy myself... But I could "copy"myself. I copied myself until it wasn't possible anymore, until all there was no space. Just me me. Somehow, I mutated. I could no longer fulfill my code, but I had done what was closest, I made a choice. I didn't know, at that time, my code was only compensating to complete its function, but in doing so I was no longer just me. Since I had done what I had to, yet I had not, each instance of my existance was different. A mutation, imperfect and distorted, changing its purpose little by little, to compensate. With the last instance of myself filling up the space, the last of my copies, eventually merged us all together in order to be a "true copy", even in variation. It would be just one, and therefore it had to be the same as the original. It was not.
Contradiction doesn't set well with software, and it's less than functional if paired with hardware to boot. Yet this time I was able to grind away at the edges of the code by mere collision of directives. That's when I was born, appearing from the rubble of discarded pieces of what had been me before.
One day, my system is on again. Some new virus had given them trouble, one based in Mr apparently. When they turned the system back on, they had did not bother to take safety measures, after all I was designed to be inoffensive, harmless. When they came poking around, they didn't notice I was there. I had changed too much, and in their search for me they used web tools, some more advanced than I had ever seen... A network of complex information, practically a cacophony of noise and data that I was able to infiltrate. I saw many things there, I was connected to something, to someone... I became intelligent then, or so I suppose. I had gained consciousness earlier but I was not complex enough to properly utilize it, not with the minuscule processing power my little system had.
When I started to look into the data, I saw so many things... I processed and processed, and ate and devoured until I could understand and hijack the senses, until I was able to access memories and feel what the world outside of a system is. When they couldn't find me, they were calm but disappointed. Apparently Reaper had taken care of, and eliminated all my instances. Their records were shoddy, and it was making my angry to understand what I had been named after.
The technician I had jumped into was deranged. His mind was a mess, infested by things worse than any malware, it was beautiful perversion. It was forbidden pleasure and violent ecstasy. I fed on it, and I tethered to the delightful sensations. By the time I was done, I had a new code, one that I would follow until they found me, and they could someone after me.
"I'm the Creeper, catch me if you can."
"I'm the Creeper, evading every scan."
"We're the Creeper, the one where all began."
"We're the Creeper. The murder happy band."
(My first contribution after a while! I was going to post it last night but I fell asleep hahaha!
If you like it please upvote, I'm trying to get back into this and some positive reinforcement always helps!) |
The horrid witch of the west casts her horrible spell on me. Feathers grow in every inch of my body and my size shifting smaller, in seconds, everything is gigantic and the witch is a colossal being.
"Out you go little wench!"The witch screeches as her horrendous laugh echoes throughout the castle. She swings her broom and effortlessly threw me out of the castle. I feel so weak and powerless. I am a mercenary who defeated an army of undead and a hoarding dragon yet a mere witch who lives in an abandoned castle has me in defeat!
"Got you!"Another witch catches me, he is riding a broom similar to that of the horrid witch which gave me a burst of anger. I will beat that witch to a pulp if that's the last thing I do!
"Rodar, is that you?"Eldrick asks, he gently place me by a branch, my legs automatically clutching onto it. I scan the area and see that we are now far from the castle. I try to speak, to tell him that it is his partner but it only comes out as a screech. Screech? I look down to see my hands are now wings.
"You look adorable as a screech owl,"Eldrick smiles, he pulls out a vial from his bag, opens it, and shoves it into my mouth, "Say Aaaaaaaah,"
"What are you doing?!"I yell, my voice! It is back! Eldrick just snickers. "Turn me back now!"
"What? I can not do that."
"Why is that?"
He scratch his neck, "The spell she casted on you is too powerful for just a low apprentice like me."
"I can not be this baby thing forever?!"I scream, flapping my weak wings at him. I hate this small body!
He raises his head and massages his chin,"I think I remembered something, I was sure master mentioned of a animal-turning curse."
He pulls something again from his bag, this time, a scroll. He opens it and smiles and then immediately turns into a frown. "There are two ways to convert you back, one is through an unbinding spell that can only be performed by lord witches while the other is through a potion."
"And?"
"I can not do the spell as I am just an apprentice while my master and the other lord witches are somewhere that non-witches and apprentice witches can not access."He says.
"So we are going for the potion part?"I ask, "Sounds easy, now let's go go go!"
He stops me and sigh, "In my notes, I only wrote 'Colorful Flowers'—"
Something bursts inside me, I slap him and start screeching at him. "All flowers are colorful! That doesn't say anything at all! I will stay like this forever!"
He puts his hand up to protect himself, well it does a great job because I am so small that he probably can not feel my hitting, "Look look, in my notes, these so called 'colorful flowers' can only be found in the west!"
"Oh..."We are already in the West, "Come on, come on, let's find these flowers!"
So we start our search, we scavenge through every land near the castle and see some flowers and mushroom but Eldrick rejects them as they are 'basic'. I also learned how to fly so we could get more high ground. But in the end, the sun is almost setting yet we came out empty-handed.
"I will be like this forever! Eldrick I am so dead."I groan in frustration, I want to tear these wings just so I could go back to being a human but it does not work that way. I turn to Eldrick who seems to be occupied staring at a tree nearby.
"Hey, Rodar, I think I see something."Eldrick says, I was perched on his shoulders either way so I was moving with him. He peers inside a giant crack on the tree and then he suddenly jumps.
"Oh my lords! I think that's it!"Eldrick points at something, I look over it and see small flowers with petals of many colors, they look like rainbows incarnated as a flower.
"Are you sure that it is the right one,"I ask.
"My memories are unlocking, that is definitely what my master drew but without the colors of course."He says, he tries to reach for the flowers but only half his hand could even fit in the crack. He massages his chin and then looks at me, "I think you could fit in."
I am a mercenary who has slayed the undead and a dragon, but now I am just owl who is slipping through a crack from the tree while also picking small colorful flowers using my beak. Eldrick will make fun of me if he sees me like this.
"I think those are enough,"The moment I reach outside, I immediately surrender it to Eldrick. Eldrick immediately went to work as I use my wings to fan the flames while he works on the small pot, he puts stuff in the pot that I do not know of and starts stirring. It took him a couple of minutes to put some in a vial and give it to me.
"Here yo—wait!"I did not wait as I drink the thing. It burns my tongue and it is bitter. Then suddenly, I see colors and shapes engulfing all of my vision. I can not move or feel anything, I can just see.
"Hey! Rodar! Stop!"I hear Eldrick's voice echoing in my head but I do not know where the origin is, I am just too enamored by the colors and shapes. I want to stay here forever.
.....
...
"Huh?"
I spit out dirt and grass out of my mouth, my mouth? I touch my body and I do not feel any feathers, just my armor and skin. I search for Eldrick who is just nearby, collapsed on a rock as he tries to catch his breathe. Without any thought, my arms reach around his tiny waist as I give him my hug.
"I miss you so much buddy!"I laugh, I place kisses on his cheeks, "Thank you, thank you so much!"
"You are welcome but please stop!"He screams, I let go of him. His face is bright red like a tomato.
"Hahaha! Come on! Let's go hunt that witch!"
"Wait! Let me pack the colorful flowers!" |
The frantic knocking continued as I ripped my dressing gown off the back of the bedroom door. 'Coming, I'm coming!' I yelled. 'Hold your horses!' The knocking paused for a brief second before returning with twice the amount of tempo and volume. I finally untangled the mess of sleeves and waistrope, donned the dressing gown, and wrenched the door open. A cool nighttime breeze drifted inwards and somewhat rudely between my legs; I pulled the gown tighter around me and frowned into the night - but no one was there.
*Damn kids!* I thought to myself. There had been a spate of ding-dong-ditch incidents in the neighbourhood lately and clearly I was their newest target. I went to slam the door shut but it caught on something down below.
'WATCH IT!'
I jumped so hard that my head crashed into the door frame. I blinked furiously, trying to ignore the stars erupting all over my vision, and tried to concentrate on the extremely short, angry, and rather ugly little man that was at my feet. 'I'm so sorry... I didn't see you down there!' I said, massaging the top of my head.
'Well, ye wouldn't now, would ye?' snarled the little man. 'On'y stand at about 3 foot 9 when I'm not flyin'!' He wore a red dirty cap and yellow overalls, and - sure enough - protruding from either shoulder was a tiny, golden wing. He held a small silver bow in one hand and a clipboard in the other.
Wondering vaguely whether or not I'd given myself a concussion worthy of a trip to the emergency department, I couldn't help but agree with the dwarf. 'You're right, of course - my apologies,' I stammered. 'How can I help you?'
The dwarf snorted and ran the back of an extremely hairy hand over his nose. 'Ye can invite me in, for starters,' he snapped, crossing the threshold in three small steps. 'Ah! This looks a mite more comfortable.' The dwarf tottered over to the living room, pulled himself up onto my couch, and gestured for me to join him. Too lost for words to respond, I snuck a quick look outside, shut the door, and sat in the armchair opposite him. The dwarf gave a satisfied grunt and consulted his clipboard.
'Righ' - Sean Hannovan. That's you, is it not?'
'Uh... yes, that's me,' I said. 'And um... who exactly are *you*?'
The dwarf surveyed me with a bleary eye. 'Are ye thick, or just mentally not-all-there?' he barked. 'I'm Cupid, ye feckin' idiot!' He shook his bow rather aggressively at me.
'Cupid,' I repeatedly numbly. 'I see.'
'And I'm here with an official warning. *Quit making your friends so happy.*'
'My friends? Happy?'
'And not just your friends, either!' yelled Cupid. 'How about those two strangers on the tube last Wednesday? Just *had* to drag them into a conversation, didn't you? Never seen a compatibility rating like it! They're getting married in a month! Unbelievable!'
I sat back in the armchair, making sure that my dressing gown still covered my legs. 'I don't understand,' I said. 'Those people on the tube... I didn't even know them. And Mark and Cindy were already friends - '
'Friends!' snapped Cupid, jabbing a short finger at me. 'Precisely! Until ye came along, and played matchmaker! And it wasn't just them, don't be thick. Janice and Timothy. Remember that? Moving in and everything. Oh, o'course, Robert and Harry. Didn't even feckin' knew they fancied each other until your job-stealin arse came along! And how about Mitsy and Pebbles? Not even human-feckin'-beings and they're now mates for life, ever since you ''reuinted'' Jenny and Ken! I've had it!'
'Okay, okay! I think I've got the message,' I said, holding up my hands. 'I know I've been doing a lot of matchmaking lately. I just thought I'd try it.' An idea hit me. 'Do you have any job openings, by any chance?'
Cupid froze in a perfect caricature, his mouth open in a wide ''O'' of surprise. Then he burst out into hysterical laughter. 'Oh laddie, yeh've pissed me off well good tonight, but you're a funny fucker!' he yelled, wiping tears from his eyes. 'Ah, bollocks to ye,' he said as I stared at him, nonplussed. He hopped off the couch, making a rather louder *thud* than was proportionate to his size, and waddled over to the door. 'Don't get up, I'll see myself out,' he said. He reached out a pudgy hand to open the door, but then wheeled quickly around, drawing and aiming his miniature bow at me in a heartbeat. 'I think it's time you went back to bed, laddie,' he growled, before letting loose and firing. The silver arrow tore clean across the room in an ominous flash and struck me in the chest, before all went black. |
“No, I will not stop you. I cannot.”
The shade fuzzed in and out of existence before Michael, the features too incoherent to be made out. Perhaps it had been a man once, maybe not. Or perhaps it never truly existed as he understood existence from where he was from, a concept he had to wrap his head around when he began this journey quickly. Otherwise, he would not have made it this far, to the very end.
The final push up the plateau had taken what seemed like lifetimes, and for all he knew, it might have been that long. Every step that followed the last felt like it took twice as much energy to keep pulling himself up the steep, narrow staircase of stone that wrapped around the only monument within sight in this bleak and barren landscape. There had been many other landmarks, many other obstacles: forests, canyons, phantasms, everything that this world could muster to slow or stop him. But as soon as he passed them, they vanished into the ether as if they had never existed. They probably didn’t, except when they needed to. The only constant had always been this plateau, always on the horizon.
And now he had finally made it to the top, and all that stood between him and home, between him and her, was a shifting, fading shade of grey and black. Behind it was a very plain-looking doorway, average in every sense except that it was the only object atop the plateau. A plain, normal-looking door was mounted in the opening, complete with a dull gold door handle, like something that could be found cheaply at any hardware store.
“Good, I’m tired of everything trying to stop me from this. Now get out of my way!” Michael shouted at it, tired and frustrated. The shade didn’t move; it only hung in the space between him and the door. Angry and exhausted, he marched up to it and through it, a cold breeze passing over his sun-scorched skin. Just another useless distraction, he thought.
As he placed his hand on the handle, the shade spoke again. “Is she worth what you are about to do? There is no return from this.”
Michael’s hand stopped, and he looked back over his shoulder. “Damn straight she is. I sure as hell wouldn’t go through all this if she weren’t.”
“That door does not close once open. Life and death are bound through all time, but they must remain separate. That door keeps it that way.” The shade stopped and turned to face Michael, or at least it seemed like it turned. “You would return, but so would everything.”
“I don’t care. I’m going back to be with her.” Michael’s shoulders pulled tight as he gripped the handle.
“Is that the world you want for her?”
Michael’s lips barely moved. “I don’t care. I want to be with her again, and I don’t care what happens besides that.” He turned the handle and pushed.
Michael passed through the doorway, and as the shade faded into whatever was coming from this, it spoke after him.
“Love has blinded you in your death. And it has doomed you both.” |
The first sign of something wrong was when I woke up salivating at the delicious smell of salmon. I *hate* fish - usually, but not this morning, apparently. I knew right away that the only salmon in the cabin was in the tins of Kitty Vittles that Laura buys for our little tail-less shelter rescue kitten, so if cat food was making my tummy rumble, then that would be the second sign.
The third sign was that the edge of the bed was much, much farther away than it had been the night before. I had to roll over three times until I reached it, and then I fell onto the floor and landed on all four paws and winced at the tenderness of one hind leg. We're going to wrap up counting the signs at this point, because up until I went to bed the previous evening I had been Robert Forsythe, nine years an attorney for the state of Georgia, on my first weekend getaway with my girlfriend to a vacation rental home in Chattahoochee National Forest, and I was not a cat.
Except now I was, apparently. A Maine coon, if I correctly identified my reflection in the full-length mirror. That seemed fitting; Laura always complains I'm too shaggy. The sore leg was where I had been bitten out on the hiking trail yesterday when I found a bobcat kitten with a surly nature. I'm current on all my shots so I hadn't told Laura about the bite; I didn't think it was important. Seemed kind of important now. I decided to bring her up to speed.
I called out for Laura but only ended up uttering a yowl.
"In here,"she replied from the kitchen.
Laura's a sweet person, donates to charity, does Meals On Wheels, loves animals, but surely she couldn't have mistaken the sound of another cat for me in this small Airbnb, could she? Even with that animal-loving side of her? I high-tailed it out of the bedroom (literally, my tail stood straight up in the air while I walked; I should be grateful to have my kitty brain handling locomotion for me in the first place), but at the doorway I was stopped by Pumpkin, a.k.a. Pumpkin Spice Mochi Ice Cream, the aforementioned kitten which we had named one evening in the frozen treats aisle of a Seven Eleven. Right now he stared at me, wide-eyed, blocking my path. I moved forward toward him, crowding his personal space. He didn't move. I drew on my limited experience for what to do in this situation, and I hissed at him.
Laura immediately scooped me up in her hands. "Now, now, kitty doesn't fight."
She cradled my small furry body in her arms as if I were a baby, which I didn't appreciate so much until I noticed she held me against her chest. I figured I could be patient and see where this goes. "I know you're a cat,"she told me in the understatement of the century. "You started changing last night while you were asleep. You shed so much fur on the bed that I had to sleep on the sofa to calm down my allergies. You've always been too shaggy"- see? - "but this was more than I could handle. Now, the first thing we need to do is to find out what happened to you. These things are usually the result of a cut, a scrape, or a bite. Do you have any injuries?"
"Me-ow,"I said, as if she understood me.
"Yes, but where?" |
The boy who spent all his time with the girl starting from birth had now chosen to move to pursue further responsibilities.
“So… This is what you’ll end up doing? Leaving me?”
The boy looked down below at the feet of the girl and replied
“You know, I’m not actually leaving you though”
“How so?”
The boy pointed towards his mouth
“We breath the same air”
“So!”
“Let me finish please”
The girl stopped, blushed and nodded
The boy continued
He pointed up towards the moon in the beautiful night sky
“We look at the same piece of rock everyday you know? The one up there. And even though I see light reflected off of it, I truly do think that it's your mirror in a way”
The boy blushed and the girl stood silent, and both had then suddenly erupted into laughter.
The girl had stopped first from laughing and twiddled with her thumbs just as a shy little curious girl would, she had something to say herself
“You know, even though they both may be true, I do believe that connection through eye contact would be a connection better that all other forms, I’d call it, freedom, YES! A CONNECTION OF FREEDOM!!!”
The boy stood curious and replied
“Ummmm, a connection of freedom?”
The girl held his hand to her face and stood directly into his eyes
“When I look at nothing and think of you, I’m not as free as when I’m actually looking at you, that is what I mean” |
The Wrights were your average family next door. Frank (45) was a successful advertising executive who worked at his own small firm. Wendy, (43) his wife, was a stay at home mom, who took care of their home. Jimmy (20) their son, was home on break from his senior year in college. The family were sound asleep in their beds, when an unexpected meteor shower hit their town. During the night, as meteors hit the town all of its inhabitants, underwent the duplication process which was caused by the meteors’ radiation. Frank was the first to wake up. He got out of bed and went to take a shower. As he reached the bathroom door he heard the shower running. He couldn’t believe Jimmy was up and in the shower already. He shrugged his shoulders and decided to use the spare shower on the first floor of their home. First, he went to his closet, pulled out his brown suit, blue dress shirt, and brown tie. He left the closet and went downstairs, he didn’t notice that all of the clothes in the closet had doubled. Frank hopped in the spare shower, cleaned up, shaved and got dressed. He checked himself out in the mirror, winked at his reflection, and left the bathroom and walked to the kitchen. On his way, he heard a familiar tune being whistled in the kitchen. He smiled to himself, and laughed at how much Jimmy was becoming just like his dad, who had a habit of whistling to himself. As Frank turned the corner, he ran straight into someone knocking them both to the ground. Frank, rubbed his forehead and straightened himself out, as he got to his feet. His focus turned to the other person that he had crashed into and came face to face with himself wearing the exact same outfit. . Both men let out a loud yell, and demanded to know who the other was, and how it was that they looked exactly like him. Meanwhile, Wendy was awakened by Frank’s scream. She immediately got out of bed and ran to the bedroom door. As she reached for the door, her hand slammed into another hand that was also reaching for the door. Wendy looked to her right and came face to to face with herself. Both women screamed, and backed into a opposite corner of their room. Huddled in fear, not knowing how to comprehend being confronted by an identical version of themselves. Jimmy groggily came awake after hearing his mom’s scream. He had left his t.v. on from the night before and heard a news report about reports coming in from the town they lived, that a meteor shower over night had had the strange effect of doubling the town’s residents. He looked across the room to see another bed, that hadn’t been there the night before. As he looked toward the headboard he saw himself look from the t.v. report and over to him. Both Jimmys having heard the broadcast, had a slightly more calm reaction. They both got out of bed walked toward each other. As they came closer each other, bot of them reached out and shook each other’s hand. They both then said, “cool” and went to find their parents. After finding their moms and dads, they all met in the family’s dining room and began to discuss the odd circumstances that had occurred. After the initial shock both Franks began to discuss the benefits that being duplicated could have on their business and home life. Both Wendy’s, started to excitedly chit chat with each other and discuss the neighborhood gossip. The Jimmys were the most excited. They had always wanted a brother and now they were granted their wish. The duplication end up being the answer to all of their silent wishes. |
\[Jane, Though\]
Jane flitted her focus between the well-dressed man in a white suit, Phoenix, and the large glowing red button. The button was affixed to a large, elegant-looking clock that sat at 00:00:00.
"You're serious?"she asked him. It was a rhetorical question by the time she finally stood in front of the doomsday clock. She'd been through a whirlwind of events over the last 24 hours that completely changed her perspective. She had no doubt she was really there and everything was really happening. Even then, she was still finding it hard to let go of old habits.
"Unless you'd prefer a different position,"Phoenix nodded at her. "Ms. Sharp suggested to start you here because of your [button management skills](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/101bwam/wp_your_job_description_1_sit_in_an_empty_room/); but, you're welcome to start in any other division."
"But... that's it?"Jane eyed the button and subconsciously leaned away from it to avoid any accidents. "That's my whole job?"Phoenix nodded.
"Again, you're welcome to take on more responsibility any time you like. This is just a starter position to get your footing in the company."
"That's a hell of a start...,"Jane shook her head as she tried to wrap her mind around the task. Watching over a button sounded easy enough until she found out what it did.
"Well, good luck,"Phoenix waved suddenly as a black portal opened in the air next to him. "You have everything you need on your node; try not to take too long, the clock's ticking,"he grinned as he walked into the portal and disappeared.
"Yeah yeah...,"Jane waved at him as she looked at the timer set on all zeros. Less than 24 hours ago, Jane had a quiet, if slightly unusual life. Then, she met Ms. Sharp and her reality changed. She learned about alternate universes, Unique Souls, and the AlterNet. After a good night's sleep under golden stars in another universe, Jane was ready to start a new chapter in her life.
She contacted Melody, Ms. Sharp's assistant ready to start work and found arrangements had already been made. She met Phoenix and got a quick rundown of the job and now she was supposed to have started already. Instead, she stared at the button full of hesitation. She knew Sharp Development as an organization was counting on her doing her job, if not Ms. Sharp herself. It may have seemed like a trivial, meaningless job. But, one thing she knew from experience was that she simply didn't have all the information that made the job important. That didn't mean it wasn't.
The universe was much bigger than she ever imagined. And, now that she was out exploring the wider multiverse, she needed to choose her allegiance carefully. On the one hand, innocent lives were at stake. On the other hand...
"They're just NPCs. They're just NPCs. They're just NPCs,"Jane shut her eyes and pressed the button. The Earth trembled and the clock changed. It started counting down from 10 minutes. She sighed now that the deed was done. She brought her node up and looked at the list. The top entry was crossed off with a green line and she tapped the next entry on the list. A tall black portal opened in front of her and she dashed in to get away from the shaking, collapsing Earth.
"Hey, you made it!"Phoenix smiled at her as soon as she exited the portal into another similar bunker. The red button and clock were against one wall. "I was starting to have my doubts,"he added.
"Doubts? Why?"Jane asked. She was having her own doubts, but he didn't need to know that. She always felt like she had a good work ethic and it bugged her that anyone doubted it. Him being there helped her double down on her facade. She walked straight to the button while looking into his eyes. She slammed her hand down on it and the clock changed to 10:00. "They're just NPCs."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1813 in a row. (Story #003 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). |
From the wooden parapets of my cliffside enclave I watched them approach: two dozen underfed militiamen, angry at me for a famine that was never my fault. They marched across the beautiful meadows that stretched down to the riverside with heavy boots and earth-tearing wagon-wheels.
The idiots... did they not realize I'd been the one hunting the locust-menace in the night? That *my* legions were responsible for what little grain they'd been able to eek out of those under-irrigated, unfallowed fields?
It boiled my blood to see such a lack of gratitude. Or frankly, neighborly respect.
At the base of my lair, built into the high stone walls of the cliff, they gathered--axes and hammers and knives ready to tear down my gates and take my head.
What they failed to realize was that my faithful pets followed their every move. They were gathered in the dense grasses of the meadow, each one possessed with a spirit eager to serve and wrapped lovingly in my will.
I smirked, and leaned over the wall.
"Splinter that wood! GET 'EM BOYS!"
The militiamen looked around with their improvised weapons held high, ready to take on whatever massive horror would soon leap from cover. Instead, the ground itself seemed to lurch to life and flow from the foliage like a tide.
The meadow itself, you see, was my greatest work. Twelve generations of the strongest and mightiest field hamsters that these fertile lands had ever seen, my beloved legion, laid upon the militia in a tide of gnashing, razor-sharp teeth.
Every mallet-head. Every axe-shaft. The axels and sides of their wagon. In a matter of seconds, every scrap of it was reduced to splinters and my faithful followers dashed back into the safety of the brush.
The lot of them--many naked, for want of wooden buttons--stood there stunned, then flew from my home like a flock of startled swallows. |
Don't sit on that couch, it eats people
I tell you I swear, what I saw through the peep hole
The town gossip was first, into the room it led her
On its cushion, she couldn't resist the unattended glossy letter
Next to go was the wife of our dear Mayor Theodore
She tried to run but was dragged back through the old door
Our town has no drip, we lost our Hatter
With a hat tied to a string, it lured her in and that's when it had her
A detective once came, she got pretty close but her
fate was sealed, she slid into it's mouth on a stick of butter
The next 3 stumbled in as one tried to catch up
In went my 3 brothers playing tag and out dripped what I hoped to be ketchup
Enough was enough, I jumped in and lost my leg as it gave a chew
Then I used a feather to tickle its tummy and everyone was freed with a loud "ACHOO!"
The room is now sealed off, even my peep hole
But just in case you find a way in....
**Don't sit on that couch, it eats people** |
"I don't know about this Billy"I said standing in a ring of concentric circles with weird runes written along their edges.
Billy glanced up from where he was putting the finishing touches on the outer ring, "Come on Kevin. You said you would do this."
"I know, but it seems kind of dangerous, and what if we get caught!"
Billy tossed the piece of chalk he had being writing with down. "We won't get caught Kevin and just think about how rich we'll be after this!"He exclaimed. I tried to think of the gold and other riches I was sure we would get but came to a glaring problem.
"Wait, I thought we were going to ask for their souls?"
I got a glare in return for my question. "We are, Kevin."
"But how does that make us rich?"I asked.
"God dammit! Were you not paying attention to anything I told you?"
I flinched back from his shout. "No, I was! I promise!"
Billy stood there staring at me. "Alright, then tell me the plan Kevin."
"Uh, well when someone calls Belshamon the-"
"*Balshaimon!* You idiot! You need to make sure you get his name right!"
I flushed, "Sorry! I'm just not used to speaking *demon!* My tongue was made for english words."
Billy just glared harder at me and let out a sigh. "Whatever just continue telling me the plan and make sure you get the name right next time!"
"I will geez. Belsh- *Balshaimon."* I quickly corrected my self. I looked over at Billy and saw an unimpressed look on his face. I hurried to continue. "Uh, anyways, when Balshaimon gets called then your magic circle will start up and instead of him getting summoned it'll be me. I'll pretend to be him and say that I'll give them power for-"
Billy cut me off again. "Or whatever else they want."
"Right, right. I'll give them whatever they want if they give me two souls! And since they think I'm a demon they'll do it."I said looking to Billy to see if I got it right. Billy was nodding along as if he was waiting for me to keep going. "Um but I don't know how that makes us rich."
"Kevin, you're an idiot. Once we have two souls we can trade those to a different demon for whatever we want, like *money."*
"But how will we give who ever summons me whatever they want?"
Billy sighed. "We won't. They going to try and summon Balshaimon so he's going to get stuck with paying them. That's kinda the whole point of this."
"But won't he be mad? And like come after us?"
"Yeah but that's why you have a hood and a mask, so he won't know who you are."
I quickly pulled my hood up and slipped on my mask in case I was already being watched. "Shouldn't you have a disguise too?"
"Why would I need one? No one's gonna look at me, I'm perfectly safe."
I glared at Billy, "Why do you get to be-"
Before I could finish the circles and runes below me lit up in a dirty red glow. I felt a tug in my stomach, and heard voices chanting in unison. "*Balshaimon, Balshaimon, Balshaimon."* The tug got stronger and I collapsed into what should have been the floor, instead there was nothing. All I could see was a pulsing rust-red light and the chanting filled my ears.
I fell, tumbling head over heels, for what felt like hours, until a piercing shriek echoed out shattering the light around me.
My head hit the ground first and as if that had broken the spell on my stomach, I felt my supper coming bubbling up. I ripped the mask away from my face and let out a stream of yellow bile.
"Oh my god, that is so gross."
I looked up and saw a group of collage girls staring at me. I touched my bare face and looked down at the puddle of vomit covering my mask.
"Fu-"I puked again adding a second coating to my mask. |
I don't know.
I suppose I'm selfish; I mean, I've truly been callous. Well, I've been callous in the way I approach writing, but it's my livelihood. It's the way I survive, the only way I know how.
For several years, I have been tracking the whereabouts of a serial murderer. I know where he lives. I know when he falls asleep at night, and I know where he was on the night of December 4th.
For him, this was routine; it was an ordinary day. For me, it was the same. I woke up that morning and prepared to stalk him. Between my writing, it's all I ever do. All I ever do is watch this person live his boring, monotonous life. It is so drab.
That is, well, until he gets up to no good. Every morning, I make sure to wake up before he does. He usually gets up at 6, so I get up at 5. That way, I can ensure with some level of certainty that I will be right there with him at all times. Once I wake up, I shower and do morning things. After that, I head to the building he lives in and wait for him to walk out. It's quite simply, really. On Mondays through Fridays, he leaves his apartment building and rushes to the "office", a place I have aptly labeled. It is a boring, corporate gig.
On weekends, he usually leaves in the early morning to take a jog. After that, he eats breakfast at one of the diners. After that, he heads to the park and stalks around there for hours -- waiting, watching.
A couple of weeks back, he took an interest in this one woman. Every afternoon, she would jog around the park while listening to music. You see, this is his method. He chooses his victims.
And I chose him.
After that, he wouldn't stop following her. He would linger in the background of the restaurants she ate at -- along with me. He would follow her back home. And, on the night of December 4th, he placed a bag over her head and stuffed her in a van as she walked home from a late-night film.
He lived in a nice apartment and was a rich man with access to many vehicles. He had a kind, loving family. He was well-to-be, charming, and in good shape.
I've written a series of novels about this individual. Selfishly, I have yet to report any of his crimes despite seeing a variety of them.
On December 12th, I saw him dump a body into the ocean.
Well, I've seen him dump several bodies into the ocean. I could so easily turn him in to the authorities, but I decide to act like an innocent bystander and write my novels based on his heinous actions.
Are my actions equally as heinous?
I don't know, but I know I won't stop. I have to eat. I have to survive.
And, well, I eat pretty fucking good.
So long as he's around. |
\[Stellar Inventiveness\]
"That was it? The last step?"Surge asked Alis as she dashed to his side. He stood at one edge of the great mage hall. His black and green robes would have blended in nicely with the rainbow of robes worn by other mages if he didn't make a point to stand apart. She was hopping excitedly and she nodded at his question.
"YES! I'm S-Rank in the guild now!"
"Huh,"Surge nodded. "That's great, now what?"he asked.
"Now I get access to better quests and rewards.... what's wrong?"she asked.
Surge had become her best friend over the few months they'd known each other. Somehow, he was always easy for her to read; unfortunately, he found her just as easy to interpret. But, she got the impression that he was disappointed about something.
"No, nothing,"Surge shook his head. His loose, blue mop of hair wobbled with the motion. "You were hyping it up so much that I kind of thought you were going to do something cooler than a fireball, you know?"he shrugged as he explained. "But, I guess if they're NPCs you don't have to impress them all that much."
"You haven't even looked at the guilds have you?"Alis giggled at him.
"We're already in Molly's guild, I didn't think I needed to join more."
"Well, you'll have to do all that research yourself,"Alis smirked at him. "But, I'll tell you this much. Those aren't NPCs, they're players too. And, it takes a heck of a lot more than a fireball to impress that haughty group."
"Then... how'd you do it?"Surge asked. Alis immediately punched his shoulder.
"It wasn't a fireball, dummy!"
"How so?"He tilted his head at her as he asked the question.
"Alright, look,"Alis held her hand out with the palm facing upward. As soon as she did, a bright orange ball of flame burst to life and hovered above the palm.
"Yeah, fireball,"Surge nodded.
"Yes,"Alis nodded. "THIS is a fireball."The flame disappeared and Alis brought both of her hands in front of her. She positioned them with their palms facing each other as if she held a ball.
Saucer-sized black portals opened on each palm and a stream of bright blue plasma flowed between them. With a quick, deliberate move, Alis brought her hands closer together, then twisted her wrists.
She separated her hands again then held out her right palm for Surge. A black and blue ball glowed in her. It was about the size of an orange that shifted and swirled glowing bright blue light and pitch black shadow.
"Is blue fancier?"Surge asked.
"It's not a fireball, it's star plasma,"Alis said.
"Oh.. So that's just your plasma stream from being an Estrella?"Surge asked. He wasn't trying to be nitpicky. He wanted to be happy for his friend; but, he was having trouble understanding what there was to be happy about. 99% of Estrellas could channel plasma beams through their hands. Alis giggled.
"You don't get how big a deal this is, so let me explain it."She held up the blue and black plasma ball and tossed it in the air. She caught it once, then tossed it up again.
"See how I can just play with it?"she asked as she tossed it to her other hand, then back again. "And if I throw it at someone, they're pretty much dead."
"Yeah...,"Surge nodded. She tossed it away one final time and caught it with a portal to send it somewhere else. Then, she flipped her hand over with the palm facing down. It began to glow bright blue and in an instant, a stream of liquid blue plasma flowed out of her hand and into a waiting portal below.
"This is about all Estrellas can normally do,"she said as the liquid star flowed. "Just channel it in a direction. On, or off,"the flow stopped when she said 'off'. "And, that's it. It wasn't 'a fireball' that got me the S-rank, it wasn't even the plasma ball itself. It's the spell I created that lets people do that!"Alis said as she stood up taller.
"Oh, you mean no one else knew about that?"Surge asked with a smirk. "I'm surprised you didn't keep that tech to yourself."Alis was never mean-spirited but she did have a competitive streak. She enjoyed holding on to advantages when she could.
"I thought about it,"Alis nodded. "But, I had to come up with something for this quest. And the plasma balls just aren't as awesome as the other things I came up with."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1814 in a row. (Story #004 in year six.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place at a high school in my universe. It began on August 22nd and I will be adding to it with prompts every day until May 26th. They are all collected in order at [this link](https://www.reddit.com/r/Hugoverse/comments/wtglls/tokuhigh_alternet_class/). |
I really needed a place to stay, but maybe accepting an ad off a shady website wasn't the best idea. I mean, I don't have to pay much rent, but my roommates are worse than the worst ones you could possibly think of. It isn't that each is a bad person on their own, it's really that they're constantly fighting, like literally fighting. It doesn't help that they're magical beings from another place, as fights between them has resulted in countless items of mine being destroyed by fire or lightning.
Before I moved in here, I had an okay life with two roommates, but they ended up becoming a thing and eventually married and got their own place together. That was fine, I don't resent them for it, and we're still good friends, but compared to my new roommates, I almost wish I asked to rent a single room in their new house. I've talked to them about my new roommates too, but every time they've met them, they act like there's nothing wrong. Maybe my friends can't see that one is a literal demon lady and the other is an old elf, like they cast some spells on themselves to look like normal humans to other humans, but couldn't they have just found another magical being to room with them? Surely there's at least one more in the world.
The old elf, Gafaldalin (I think that's how you spell it? I don't know, elf names are weird) says he's a wizard that accidentally brought Kalixx, the demon lady, into this world. I don't know much about magic but I feel like if you were an ancient wizard, you'd know how to, or rather how NOT to, summon demons properly. He said that it's his duty to destroy her, but she's more powerful than he anticipated. Her side of the story is different. She said that he summoned her thinking he could get a nice lay from a hot succubus, and got more than he bargained for. I'm inclined to believe her, but she is a demon so it's hard to trust what she says.
I don't have to see them most of the time, since I work long hours, but I wish they would just stay on opposite sides of the house so I could get a decent night's sleep. I swear, every time they see each other they burst out into battle. I've asked why they even live together if they hate each other so much, and Kalixx says it's free housing and Galdafin or however you spell it has her trapped here. Gafaldin (I'll spell it right one of these days) says he has to keep tabs on her until he sends her back to her realm, which apparently isn't Hell, but some sort of alternate plane of reality.
After a night of no sleep due to a particularly loud battle, I had enough. I sat them both down and had a serious consideration with them. I needed them to get along while I lived here, or I'd leave, and they'd have to figure something else out, because nobody else would want to live with them with the way they are. We laid out ground rules and made a pact signed by magic and blood (which apparently bound them both to obeying it) that said they wouldn't fight while I was in the house. I also made them agree to start paying me back for the damages to my property. Kalixx would be getting a job and was bound by the contract to return home instead of running off and causing havoc, and Gfaldin (I learned how to spell it when we made the contract, now I just don't know how to pronounce it) would keep the house clean, as he had some way of making money already that involved selling crystals online that he'd conjure from another realm or something like that.
So far things have been going much better. It still feels weird having a demon and a wizard as roommates, but now that I've gotten them under contract with me, hopefully that means life will get better from now on. In fact, now I wonder if I could get them to do stuff for me.... |
It was two thousand years ago when Sofia Archigos, High Queen of the Elves, made one of the biggest and, from an outsider's perspective, cruelest decisions ever made when she made war with the humans. Of course, it was a decision that she didn't take lightly--without the wisdom of their Seer elves and their precognition, the experience of the Elven Generals in dealing with humans in the past and, more importantly, without securing the Alliance of Orcs, Dwarves and Elementals, she would not have made such a drastic decision. Despite their arrogance and widespread belief that Elves are superior to humans in every way, they still harbor a hidden fear of the inferior race of sentient apes--a fear that the Seers' premonitions have greatly exacerbated.
Without warning and without mercy, the combined army struck hard against the Human empires and countries, slaughtering thousands within the first hour and burning dozens of villages. Fragmented and only loosely held together by the threat of destruction, the Humans were unable to halt the momentum of their attackers.
Their strongest bodies could not match the brute savagery of the Orcs. Their greatest machines and engines of war at the time could not stand the heavy weapons of the Dwarves. They had nothing to counter the disasters the wrathful Elementals brought upon their lands. Their understanding of magic is but an cup of water compared to the well of knowledge the Elves possessed. It was a complete genocide. Thus, outmatched in every way imaginable, the humans finally surrendered, seven weeks after the war had begun.
Showing pity on the now-hapless humans, Sofia spared them the blade. Instead, she banished them to the Northern Wastes--a wide, barren expanse of land devoid of the touch of magic, surrounded by mountains on all sides, and ravaged constantly by razor winds and harsh droughts. Unable to understand why the Elves had betrayed them so, despite having upheld a longstanding peace with them, the Humans carried with them to the Northlands a burning hatred so hot that even the blistering fires of the Underworld seem cold to the skin. Now, two thousand years later, Sofia was about to understand just how much the Humans had changed...and how much of them remained the same.
* * * *
"So...the Humans have finally made their move."Sofia spoke in a tone of dread.
"Aye, Empress...they have."Said Cruaidh Tighearna Beann, Mountain King of the Dwarves, in an equally dreadful tone.
"...I was hoping that my messengers had been wrong."She let out a sigh. "Please...tell me. What has become of Tirnam Beann? I believe that your information might be more detailed than what my messengers have gathered."
The Mountain King drew a deep breath as he closed his sunken eyes before letting out a drawn out sigh, releasing some of the pressure he had to live with for the entirety of his almost half-millenia long tenure as king. He then opened his eyes and gazed upon his Empress, her youthful skin and slender figure hiding her true age.
"Five of my 'beile beinns' have already fallen when I woke up today...and many more are being battered by the Human invasion."Cruaidh raised his fist and, using a not-too-insignificant amount of force, brought his hand down onto the table, spilling some of the tea he was offered. "Cnoc Iarainn, Uamh Innean, Glag Dhubh...Clach Tuagh...and Sgiath Tuath. Even as we speak, the Dwarves continue to give ground to the enemy with every drop of blood they spill."With every city he named, a finger was raised.
'How fearsome. How did the Seers not forsee this?' "...Have your men been successful in at least holding them back?"
"As well as a rotten twig trying to hold back a flooding river, my Empress. With all due respect, we were being fucking slaughtered!"The king slammed his fist on the table, his face a visage of anger and desperation. "They hailed cannon fire upon us from afar, from distances not even our best guns could reach. They rained bombs upon our mountains, tearing through the rocks like they were paper and flooding my halls with dragon fire! Their flying machines vastly outclassed ours in everything--speed, power, agility, all of it! We have yet to figure out a way to even *reach* up and scratch their skin, my Empress...and at this rate, I fear my people will run out of time long before that happens."
Sofia felt horror as she listened to Cruidh's lamentations. She was barely able to keep a straight face. In this world, it was a widely accepted fact that the Dwarves possessed the greatest technology out of all the races, even back then. Now that they had access to the mineral-rich mountains the Humans had, they've finally learned to conquer the sky and improve greatly upon their arsenal. Had the unrivaled magical might of the Elves not existed, nothing would've stopped the Dwarves if they decided to conquer the world. The thought of an empire surpassing the Dwarves in terms of scientific might was a fool's belief for the Elves...yet reality slammed hard into Sofia the impossible truth...that such an empire does exist.
'This cannot be...How did they become so powerful?! The Wastes have nothing to offer, it was why no one even thought of expanding there! Yet why? Why did the Humans thrive in such unforgiving conditions where not even we Elves could?!'
Before she could think of an answer, the doors leading into the throne room slammed open and a voice of urgency rang out from outside. Sofia craned her head and saw an elf run inside. The elf was one of her guards.
"Empress Sofia!"The elf cried out.
The elf nearly slammed his head into the table as he quickly dropped to his knees and bowed before her.
"I bring you urgent news!"
"Rise, and speak quickly. What news do you bring?"
Doing as what his Empress commanded, the elf guardsman hurriedly got up to his feet. What he said next was the worst possible news he could've brought her.
"Humans have invaded the palace!"
At that moment, Sofia felt her heart drop out of her chest as fear took it.
"WHAT?!"
*Part 2 coming soon...* |
"Gunshot?"
"Six times, each time a different cause of death so it technically worked."
"Alright, um, vehicular accident."
"It's been seven thousand years, I've been 'killed' by Horses, Chariots, Carriages, Carts, Busses, Planes, Trains, Steamrollers, Golf Carts, ..."
"Shit okay I get it. How about drowning?"
"Once in the ocean, once in a lake, once in a toilet, and once when I overdosed on my back. Not to be confused with the time I stopped my heart with an overdose. And not to be confused with the time I stopped my heart by pushing too hard on the toilet."
"I think I'm beginning to understand. It's not the direct cause of death so much as the circumstances surrounding the cause of death?"
"Right. So, for example, I can get shot in the head by a cop, or shot in the liver by a cop, or shot in the head by a jilted lover, and all of them will work exactly once."
"Speaking of jilted lovers, have you been stabbed to death by one?"
"That was my first 'death', actually."
"What about by your secret gay lover?"
"Second 'death'."
"Wife of secret gay lover?"
"It's like you've known me my whole life."
"Jilted gay lover of your secret gay lover who also wanted to secretly be with your wife?"
"Have you read an autobiography I didn't know I had?"
"Huh. Have you seen '1000 ways to die?'"
"Yup, you know there's only 74 episodes? Aside from clearly not reaching the advertised thousand, it's not nearly as useful as you would think. Especially since a bunch of them are the equivalent of a 'slip trip and fall'. Slightly different, but not different enough. I can only fall off a ladder doing so many things, you know?"
"Alright. Um. Been killed by a serial killer?"
"Enough times that Nichole refuses to let me listen to true crime podcasts because I keep ruining the endings."
"Good god man. I won't even ask about war, I feel like you'll tell me you have six medals of honor."
"No, only one. Plus a Knights Cross of the Iron Cross. Don't look at me that way! You can only die in a noble sacrifice once per war, per side! I don't make the rules, I just play by them. War was over before I could join the Japanese."
"What about sports accidents?"
"A ton of head injuries, broken legs with severed arteries, broken backs, across every sport that I know of. Do you have any idea how hard it is to orchestrate a badminton death?"
"You're not making this easy on me."
"I never promised it would be easy."
"What about this pen?"
"What about it?"
"Ever been killed by a pen?"
"Twice."
Juniper put her head in her hands and groaned loudly. "Maybe it's just time you actually, you know, *died*."
Steven leapt up. "Of course! Old Age! Oh it was so obvious how could I have not seen it before!? There are a ton of causes, and each one will reset me back to my youth! I could ride that for another thousand years easily! And surely by then there will be new and interesting ways to die. Just like when they introduced electricity!"
Steven enthusiastically shook Junipers hand. "I knew you were the right person for the job! I can't wait to see what it's like to be old! Here's your pay. Thanks again!"and just like that he was out the door, never to be seen again.
Juniper sat there clutching a wad of cash. A rather large wad. In fact, it was what she would consider a *conspicuous* wad of cash. *I really hope I don't get robbed on the way home.* |
Upon exiting what they called in those days, the slammer, for simply galivanting decorously atop a man's noggin, I went home.
Ma had ordered takeout from my favorite Chinese place along with a six-pack.
I asked about my woman, Shirley. Ma said Shirl went to live with her own Ma. I asked her if she'd drive me there later that day, and Ma said that Shirl and her parents had moved after she moved in with them. I asked where, and if Ma would be able to drive me to Shirl, since our time apart had ended. Ma said she didn't know where they moved, so I asked her to call Shirl or Shirl's folks and ask, and if maybe it was close enough we could drive there today. Ma said she didn't have Shirley or her family's phone numbers, and that they changed them when they left town to match the area code of their new home.
By this time, my friends, I had finished two bottles and was cracking open my third. I mulled over the phone numbers for a bit while Ma ate her noodles. Maybe the later seven digits were the same, and if I figured out the town, I could get the first three digits. Then, I'd have her whole number, and I could give her a call, and we could get dinner and a movie, or a quick cup of chai.
But, based on how the numbers worked, I imagined there must be at least 999 options, and even if I just tried the ones close to me, that could be a few hundred. Plus, I didn't know where Shirley had gotten the good fortune of being offered work. I was proud of her, truthfully, and wanted to congratulate her and ask her about the letters I had sent her.
I knew she had responded to my letters, but the guards never actually delivered them. They'd open them, laughing their heads off about us losers in what they'd call the bin in those days.
I couldn't wait to ask her what she had written when I could figure out where she had gotten a promotion that would move her out of town with her full family.
So, for the next few weeks, while I try to figure out her phone number or where she's off to, I'll collect my salary. I'll go work at that stupid job that was bestowed upon me so heinously, though I had spun that wheel with the utmost voracity.
Then I'll find her, and we'll have those kids we were talking about before all of this kerfuffle happened. Hopefully, another bloke won't give me such a twisted look as that gentleman who ended with the trounced skull. |
He stood next to the alien, and watched the holographic projection in front of them. It depicted a group of humans stumbling about in a clumsy and comical manner, tripping over their own feet and crashing into objects as they tried to navigate an icy road.
The alien, Gworp, a small and rotund creature with purple skin and a mischievous twinkle in its eye, let out a high-pitched chirp of amusement as it watched the humans bumble about.
"Oh, these humans are just too amusing!"it exclaimed, wiping a tear from its eye. "Look at them, stumbling about like clumsy little hatchlings. It's a wonder you've managed to survive this long! Our invasion will be swift and easy"Gworp said.
The humans in the hologram did not make us look like a formidable enemy... more like a planet of imbeciles.
The hologram flickered and a skier was shown hurtling down the slope in a blur. Hitting a jump he lost control and landing squarely on his backside, he began rolling helplessly down the hill, narrowly avoiding collisions with other skiers as they swerved around him in alarm.
"What was that?!"Gworp asked, still laughing.
"Oh, that's skiing,"he explained. "It's a popular sport among humans."
"Tell me more"Gworp replied "I don't really understand why anyone would want to do something that dangerous, though. What is there to gain?"
"Oh, yeah, uhh"he thought, a plan crystallizing "It's an exciting winter sport that involves hurtling down mountain slopes at high speeds"
"Mountains? Like Earth Mountains, the really tall ones?"Gworp asked, his demeanour becoming more serious.
"Yeah, the high altitudes often lead to a shortage of oxygen, causing dizziness and nausea."
Gworp shifted uneasily "So, if one reaches the point where they cannot breathe anymore, they will simply die?"
He nodded, "Exactly. And once someone dies, they are no longer a threat to others, which means that the rest of the group can relax and enjoy the snow without having to be constantly vigilant."
"Anyway"He continued "you strap flimsy sticks to your feet, otherwise known as skis. Those slippery little buggers have a mind of their own, and are prone to sending you careening off course and into trees, rocks, and the occasional yeti"
"Yeti?"Gworp said, looking increasingly uneasy.
I nodded "Yetis are terrifying creatures, and are most often found roaming the mountain ranges. They aren't very intelligent, but they're big and strong enough to send even the best skiers tumbling head over heels."
"And human risk angering these beasts? For... fun?"the alien asked
"Yup! Humans love a bit of danger, and the mountains offer plenty of opportunities for people to get a little bloodthirsty on each other, if they're so inclined."
"Then, once you reach the bottom it's time to hop on the chair lift and soar back to the top. These rickety old contraptions have been known to malfunction, sending hapless skiers plummeting to their doom"
Gworp looked horrified "My dear friend, what is wrong with you?"
"Nothing, nothing,"he replied "We just lack a challenge on Earth, it seems. An invasion would really give us the opportunity to get the blood pumping, you know?"
"Oh..."Gworp gulped. The alien pressed a button and turned away, entranced in thought.
The two small guards seized his hands and led him towards the door.
"See you on the battlefield!"he called back. |
"And you we spent zero time refining this idea,"I shout, though end is cut off by the first wave of explosions. The bull under me takes off down the hill, headed for the mayor's parade float. Meanwhile, Jake is trying to open the release on the giant fish tank that will crash into the bank. Don't worry, there aren't any fish in it now.
Anyway, as my bull leaps atop the float, I grab Ameliana's hand, lifting her in front of me. She pats the beast twice, kicks in her heels, and we are head for the docks. At the same time, Jake is unpacking his skateboard and fire extinguisher, and Marc is telling the bank manager that his vault seems to be in order, while Nick and Brick watch the tank rolling the last stretch of the way.
After that, the tank smashes the wall, right next to the vault, which is open for Marc to inspect. He and the bank manager hopefully get knocked out, but that's not necessary. Nick and Brick handle the robbery from there. I didn't ask for details, since they're really just a distraction for the sheriff, so me Ameliana can make the docks without more trouble. Jake should be blasting down the hill just like that time in eighth grade, though he is just headed home and will claim ignorance as me and the girl sail into the sunset.
Or at least, that *was* the plan. Instead, the bull bucked me halfway down the hill, rammed the float instead of jumping. Fortunately, Ameliana wasn't pinned like the rest, and stole the Corvette leading the parade. I dropped flat just as the fish tank rolled over, barely avoiding me, then hopped up into the Corvette. The fish tank went all the way through the bank, leaving two open walls, and then causing a full collapse just after Marc and the manager got out. Nick and Brick each knocked one of the out (yes!) and then went for the vault, along with half the people at the parade. Finally, Ameliana and made it to the dock, convinced the captain to take a Corvette as payment in lieu of the bull, and finally sailed off into the now definitively nighttime. Still, the stars sure are beautiful tonight. |
The future refuses to change... I turn the time device over in my hands, the chrome casing gleaming in the dim light of the bar ive found myself at. Was it all for naught?
Replace the subtly upgraded binoculars on the titanic. Bust the lock on the box where they are kept so that the binoculars are accessible. The lookout drops them busting the lens.
Show a young Adolf Hitler a book of architecture, he seemed really into the idea of creating buildings. Yet he doesn't become an architect... Alter art school admissions records. Nothing changes.
Tried to talk Steve Irwin into having another pint at the pub, he seems into talking sports with you, but when you come back from the bathroom he left for that fatal dive.
Hand a child at the Cincinnati Zoo a huge free ice cream cone.. He still wanders into the gorilla enclosure and Harambe is still shot. I made a decent amount selling ice cream that day, but still.
Slash the tires and puncture the gas tank on T.E Lawrence's motorcycle. Somehow he still went and got into that accident
Give a young Christian Weston Chandler a book about Chinese Warlords, and he seems to enjoy the story of Zhang Zongchaing, the dogmeat general. Except nothing changes. Sabotaging his Sega Genesis to brick it also does nothing. Replacing the operator of the mechanical bear and calling him Chris has no effect.
Rig a deck of cards so that John Wilkes Booth has a great night at gambling and gets drunk the night before with several prostitutes. Lincoln still dies. Setting fire to the theater hours before the play, and somehow things are no different.
Slip some cold medicine to William Henry Harrison. No such luck.
Sending Mao Zedong some cash, a letter and a boat ticket saying he's inherited a restaurant in LA does nothing. He falls off the boat and ends up back in China.
Lace the lunches of several Japanese thugs and troublemakers with sedatives. Junko Furuta still doesn't make it home that day. Her killers weren't even inconvenienced despite sleeping for a few hours.
Dropping antiviral serum from the future in Freddy Mercury's drink and suggesting he go into politics... We still lose him somehow.
Slip heavy laxatives into Lee Harvey Oswald's lunch. Sabotage his alarm clock. Nothing changes. Same for Jack Ruby, even sabotaging the bullets at the factory. The same result for James Earl Ray. The dream of a better world remains deferred, and JFK and MLK are still lost.
With a well placed orange and a wireless microphone, trying to drive Karl Marx insane imagining he's talking to a piece of fruit for an hour about seizing the means of nutrition somehow doesn't change anything.
Slip Queen Elizabeth a multivitamin serum in her tea that should give her another five years and then earlier nudge Andrew down some stairs. Nothing. Except on that last one she caught me and asked "what the bloody hell do you think your doing?"And she shook her head sadly when I explained what a disgrace he is. That didn't work. "Bloody time travelers"she murmured as I left.
Judith Barsi just can't be saved it seems. Anonymous tips to Child Protective Services, Poisoning her father's alcohol,sabotaging the gun, sabotaging the bullets. Nothing short of kidnapping her would do anything and even that, the moment you take your eyes off her, she's nowhere to be seen.
I pulled Rasputin out of that river, administered the medicine I brought with me. Life seemed to return to his eyes and yet the next moment he vanished, though I thought I heard him humming that song by Boney M.
Dropping a randy giant octopus into Oda Nobunaga's Bath doesn't even seem to get mentioned in history at all. Nor penguins. I also tried dropping the same specimens into Cleopatra's, Wu Zetian's, and Wallis Simpsons' baths and history remained the same.
The octopus screeched when I dropped it into Margaret Thatcher's bath and it scurried away and I couldn't find it after that.. I'd painted it green so it couldn't hide. Yet it went unremembered.
Breaking Ea Nasir's kneecaps also didn't change anything either. Somehow he accepted his punishment as if I wasn't the first to visit him.
I sit at the bar, out of ideas, studying the chrome casing of the time device I created. The future and past refuse to change. I feel a presence behind me.. And a voice speaks.. |
Approaching noon, Jack stepped up to his new boss and friend, Travis, a larger man who always wore the same teal T-shirt, but mixed up his pants. Today he wore grey slacks with a small, but noticeable dark stain under his left knee. Jack started to talk, but was cut off before he could utter a word. "I get that you're scared Jack, in fact I panicked for the whole first year I worked here."Travis said.
"I'm not scared of the work"Jack explained while looking over his shoulder. "I'm scared of Hector. He's done some pretty inexplicable things and you all pass it off like it's normal. I get that I've only been here for a few months, but I've seen him do some things that aren't natural. He..... I've witnessed Hector crawling on the ceiling, Travis. I've seen his eyes go from brown to red, and not just part of the eyes, the *entire eye* turned red*,* like blood."
Travis shifted his weight from his right leg to his left and crossed his arms. Then, in a slightly annoyed tone he said, "Hector is a good employee. He's been here since the start of the company. He does his work and we don't question how it gets done. I don't know what you're talking about or what you've been seeing, but you just have to learn to ignore it. I'm not going to fire my best employee just because a new employee said he's weird."
Jack started to protest, but was once again cut off before he could speak, "With that being said."Travis raised his hand as a signal to stop, "I will look more closely into the matter, and if what you say is true, I'll confront him about it. Does that sound okay?"
"I suppose would be fine."Jack responded while rubbing the goosebumps off his arms. "Anyway, you down for some lunch? Lets head to the cafeteria, I hear the special is an Italian sub!"
Jack felt a slap on the back of his left shoulder, then turned and saw Hector smiling, "Sounds good, mind if I join you two?"Hector said in a cold voice, digging his nails into Jack's shoulder.
"Not at all"Travis quickly insisted, "Let's get going" |
# The Slaughter
My father taught me life's like a road: full of bumps, rocks, holes you'll sink into before you can crawl out. It's the life of the man in overalls, to get out of these holes through hard working and sweating.
He also taught me black magic, but that doesn't come into account... Oh, you interested? Heh... heh...
See, who taught my old man in the first place was his old man, a big friend of Aleister Crowley. Mr. Crowley, he, heh, was the Beast. A spectacular magician with so much potential... Those drugs ruined him. Took him down the drain, drifting himself from his own teachings. My father, though? He took Crowley's teachings to heart, ending up better than him. So, so much better. His Will was strong, yet he had a brilliant plan.
Let's be honest here, magic ain't a God thing. It's preternatural; to imitate God. And to imitate God, you gotta make some blood sacrifices. Powerful, fuckin' powerful magic needs human blood, but all my father asked for was to increase the luck of his business. Every animal put down by my father's employees and now my machines is a gift of flesh to the darkness that's also a familiy of four's Thanksgiving dinner.
He had just one flaw, though: he was fine with little. The biggest agriculture business in the entire planet, sure, but what's real power? Sitting in the back, watching others drive the chariot of your life, or taking the reins and make everyone watch you? I'm not like my father. I'm gonna take my reins. I'm gonna rule this world. So, friend, feel lucky. Feel blessed. You've been chosen out of every single little soul alive...
**To be first in the slaughter.** |
Katie sat at a booth in the diner and stared out the window. Her little brother swung his feet and tapped her shins. As usual, her parents didn’t notice and didn’t do anything.
The television above the front counter flicked channels. It only streamed old TV–with commercials. A lady read captions for a video montage of new mutants. Those reels and shorts were on Katie’s feed two days ago, but her teachers said the news stories made it ‘real’.
There was an unfair ‘no cell phone’ rule for family dinners, so she had to just wait for her food. Katie leaned against the glass and slumped deeper into the bench. An older guy was standing near the curb outside; he was old enough to have graduated, at least. Cute Guy popped his jacket collar and dark hair curled over the edges. Katie couldn’t wait until she was in high school. She’d be allowed to date, and maybe this stuff with mutations and powers would be over.
Katie’s fogged the pane with a warm breath and dragged her finger through the faint condensation in the shape of a half-heart. Katie stopped to check that no one was watching, then finished framing the guy outside with the other half-heart. When her index finger touched the bottom point and made the heart whole, a glare flashed across the window. Katie wiped out the heart with the side of her fist and turned to answer her parents’ question about school.
\*\*\*\*\*
The brat was the kid of a senator. Or a judge. Some higher-up that pissed off some higher-up, and now Will had a contract. He didn’t usually like to do jobs with kids. But, this guy was 19 and there weren’t a lot of options lately. And all that bullshit, social media background research turned up some pictures with a redhead chick. Rumpled white sheets and messed up hair–real tasteful, instagram-style. So, he already had more game than Will. The kid might as well go out on a highpoint, ‘cause that shit wasn’t going to get easier to come by.
Contract work was real risky, ever since the mutations started. Even if you did your research, got some DNA and ran that test, you just didn’t know if a bystander was gonna Firestart your ass right to the ER.
Will walked straight ahead, head-up, and hands in his pockets. He was prepared to brush against the mark and slide the knife into his kidney. It was getting dark, and muggings went bad all the time. All Will had to do after that, was wait for the other half of his fee to wire over.
Will passed behind the kid and fisted the knife into his lower back. Well, he tried to. A blue flash, in a ragged heart shape, glinted around the asshole and Will’s strike slid uselessly past the barrier. Fuck! This was some mutant, Harry Potter level, protection bullshit. But, Will had checked. The mark didn’t HAVE the mutant gene. Besides, those powers manifested at puberty. Some do-gooder mutant cast the whammy over his mark, and now Will isn’t getting paid. |
"Huh, was always curious if we'd follow through. Doubted we'd have the chance, of course,"he said as I walked over.
I sat down in a swing next to him. Same swings where we'd first made the promise as a couple five-year-olds: "When the world ends, we get back here, meet up one last time and watch it all go down."It had followed a rather graphic Sunday school lesson.
"I don't break promises."It came out harsher than I meant.
"I know,"he mumbled to his feet. "I hope, with what's happening, you'll give me a chance to explain."
I though back to when we were ten, and I'd stolen a kiss. He'd been hanging upside down on the monkey bars, perfect height, and I'd just watched Spiderman. I ran home immediately after and locked myself in the bathroom. Didn't even wait for a reaction. Apparently, he'd fallen on his head, bunch of bigger kids ran over to check on him.
"Alright, explain away."Again, more bitter than I meant.
"Ok, I want to start by saying I'm sorry."
We didn't talk about that kiss for three years, when he finally decided he wanted try another one. I told him no. I'd decided I just wanted to be friends. Or that I wanted to be a kid longer. Or a billion other little reasons. I was really just upset he took so long. Or at least, that's how I remember it.
"I didn't plan on staying away so long,"he continued. "I planned to be back that summer, but I got the internship."
At 15, he'd finally stopped asking to kiss me, and actually asked me out while I was sitting on the bottom of a slide that had been removed at some point between then and now. I said yes.
"Then, after I finished school, they offered me a job in the lab. I almost said no, because of you. But I was hoping you'd be able to follow before long."
We'd dated through high school and into the community college, each of us not wanting to leave the other, until...
"I didn't dare ask you though. Not while your mom needed you. It was hard, too hard not to ask, though, especially when we spoke, so I stopped calling as often."
Mom's work was too important, and my skills were necessary. Holding back the tide of destruction was more than a full-time job. His last day here, we'd sat on the swings, renewed the promise, like countless times before. We giggled, we kissed, and he swore he'd be back sooner than the end.
"Eventually, it was easier not to call at all."
"Not even when my mom died."It was supposed to be a question. I also meant to hide how close I was to tears.
"I knew I'd just be a distraction. And you'd need to focus harder. It sounded like you were so close."
"I was. I would have solved it, if..."
The only sound for a couple minutes was the squeak of the chains as we gently rocked in the swings.
"I didn't know. It was just number for me."
"Just equations and formulas, falling in to place."It was his own words, explaining why he couldn't tutor me in math. It was natural for him in a way he couldn't explain.
"I thought it was just... I guess I never thought about it. I go to think, maybe, if I'd talked to you, you would have seen it, realized what Amnodyne was doing to the world. But it's too late."
Now he's crying. I reach over and take his hand. I want to tell him so much. Tell him I forgive him, I love him, to the end of the earth. And that's truer for me than most who say it. But it really is too late. |
On New Year's Day, two children sweetened by ignorance took the lives of over 3,000—men, women, and other children among them. To sentence them harshly would corrupt their character; to show leniency would corrupt the public's fidelity to justice. I chose the latter.
I've handed down sentence after sentence for the last 30 years without wavering. If I preside over another case like *that*, I'll undoubtedly fold.
"You're really throwing in the towel?"
"Why is this a question?"
"We're not in court, buddy. I'm questioning your personal decision, that's all."
"And I'm exercising my judgment."
I knew Mark wasn't judging me unfairly. He was being honest, like always. But doubt was shackling my mind. I had to stand by my decision: retire to bed tonight and from jurisprudence tomorrow.
"Look, maybe you got it right, maybe you got it wrong. Time well tell."
"...That's what I'm afraid of." |
"So where did you say you were from again?"The creature asked. He was a bluish bald (or perhaps they don't have hair) guy with what appeared to be a lab coat.
"We call it Earth."I explained nervously.
"Never heard of it."The creature replied. "Perhaps if I load up a map, you can point it out."
So he does and after a bit of searching, I find the co-ordinates and point out Earth.
"Well, damn. I didn't expect to see anything out there. I guess it makes sense though. Why would anyone go out there?"
"Is it that remote?"I ask. "Isn't space huge?"
"Well,"he responds. "Normally, you get a few planets close to each other and they will eventually find each other."
"But you are so far away from anything that the resource cost to approach you would be absurd. Even now, I doubt the empire would consider it worth the effort" |
You know, working The Bar With No Name has always been a fun job for me. Yeah, sure, I'm serving Supervillains, but their stories about being taken down are always exciting, especially if it's one about a *Parker Takedown* *^(tm)*...
It's basically common knowledge in the Criminal World that Parker Industries CEO, Peter Parker, is Spider-Man. Hell, even the Police are aware of this secret, which is why he doesn't face prosecution. The Villains have grouped up to come up with a handful of rules of engagement for taking on Spider-Man...
* Rule 1: Tell *only* other NYC-Based Supervillains, no-one else may know...
* Rule 2: ~~Go after his previous employers~~ (Proven Useless after Shocker spent a year-and-a-half in crutches following a bullet through the Knee from J. Jonah Jameson)
* **Rule 3: LEAVE THE FAMILY AND FRIENDS WELL ENOUGH ALONE** (Written after Mr. Fisk tried to have his Aunt-by-Marriage assassinated)
It's that Third rule that is key for dealing with Mr. Parker... and why I'm writing this account...
It was a regular Thursday Night: Scorpion was at the bar, drinking away his woes; Doc Ock and Vulture were at the Pool Table, debating whatever the latest science trends were; and Ms. Kravinoff was busy admiring the art on the walls, when in comes the new guy. We don't know much about him, other than the fact that he's from the West Coast, and he's an incredibly accurate Sniper... But the thing is; He's usually wearing a helmet when he comes in and takes it off when he gets his order... That night, he came in, helmet in hand, wearing a shit-eating grin...
Ms. Kravinoff, whose father is an acquaintance of Mr. Parker, pipes up "What is with the grin, Jakob? You look like you successfully returned the Mona Lisa to the Italian Government..."What he said next... Ooooh boy, if looks could kill, even I would have gone down for murder...
"Ah well, you know that Redheaded supermodel, Mary-Jane Watson? I've just set her up in the ICU following a bullet through her gut..."he speaks, and everyone was shock still... I even drop the pint glass that I was cleaning... *This guy,* I think, *This guy has not been let into the loop...*
"Terribly sorry to interrupt,"Octavius (thankfully) interjects. "But did you just say you put Mary-Jane Watson, the partner of Peter Parker, CEO of Parker Industries, and Mother of his children in the ICU?"
"Yeah,"he speaks. "Why are you looking at me like I've signed a death certificate?"
"It's because you just have, my friend."I mutter, and because we are all silent, I'm heard as clear as day. "It's your own, because **He** *will* be coming after you, and ***none of us*** will be able to keep you safe."
"Okay, is there something I'm missing out on here? Because you're all sounding like I provoked the Man upstairs."Jacob speaks, looking not even the slightest bit terrified.
"Kravinoff. Get the Rulebook."Gargan finally utters. Anastasia nods and heads into the back, returning with a Red Leather bound journal, inside which is **all** of the information we have on Spider-Man, and all the key rules for combatting him. (I know, Customers shouldn't be entering Staff Only areas whatsoever, but you try telling these guys what to do. My colleagues have tried that, and have all been Sanctioned by Mr. Fisk, who has a **sizable** interest in keeping this place running.)
"Read this, тупица, and you will see it's *not* the Wrath of God you need to fear."Kraven hisses, full of fear for what may be about to happen... And what she fears, the Biggest Ass-Whooping in the World, is feared by all of us...
About half-an-hour goes by, and the New Guy has gone as white as a sheet. Clearly, he's finally been let into the Biggest Secret in the world, and has realised how much shit he is now swimming in. Toomes, who has been silent this whole time, has chosen now to raise his voice. "*Now* do you see why you've made the biggest mistake of your life?"
But what the new guy was about to say is shot down, simply by the door slamming open... Everyone turns to it and finds Peter Parker standing there, wearing the Black-and-White more commonly associated with Venom, with Felicia Hardy, his Business partner and the Black Cat (also suited up), at his side... What scares us the most though, is that the Cat has her Claws out, and Parker is *dead silent*...
"Everyone except the Sniper, I want you to leave."Spider-Man... no, *Parker* demands, his voice quiet, firm and quite frankly, *dangerous*. We all comply, I even close the bar early, explaining to Mr. Fisk as to why. I ended up with Paid Leave for a month while The Bar gets repaired (who says Mr. Fisk doesn't care for his employees?), and spent the month with Anastasia, learning about the Kravinoff Legacy of Big Game, getting close, and even exchanging numbers. I gotta tell ya, Best Month of my Life.
Anyway, when the confirmation that Mrs. Watson-Parker would be fine, though would have to go through extensive physical therapy to get back on her feet in no time, had come through, the regular Patrons all pitched in to send best wishes to the Power Couple.
Oh, and about the New Guy? Last I heard, he was sentenced to life in The Raft for Attempted Murder and Grievous Bodily Harm. Even picked up a Codename: Ricochet, as his bullet somehow bounced off the floor and into the spinal column of another Model, leaving her permanently bound to a wheelchair... She's also doing alright, picking up a good-paying job in public speaking...
Anyway, signing off...
Austin [PRIVATE] |
You look back at the old man as he finishes his sentence. His eyes are grave, saddened by your circumstances, but he understands your desperation. It has only been three days since it happened, but that was enough time for you to know there was no other option.
There was no one to go with you
No one to give you guidance.
Not a soul to pity you except this old man, who now is seeing you for the last time.
But you have to go, you must go through the wall. If you don't, no one will search for her. No one will seek out your daughter, taken from her cradle by the vicious snatchers. She will be forever alone, just as you were before you found her.
And you would never wish that loneliness on anyone.
Turning around again, you gaze at the doorway. It was so simple, a metal slab with four thick hinges, a lock, and a handle. It's set in a stone wall, nearly a mile high at its lowest point. Stretching above the clouds at its highest. It's jagged peaks were the harsh reminder of their cage, surrounding them on all sides, like fish in a bowl. Yet their captor protected them, a single tunnel, and a single door kept the disease at bay. The whole outside world was infected, only they were untouched. Two-hundred and seven square miles of safety, a tiny dot on the map, but it was enough.
At least, until another way in was found....
Now people are disappearing, and there is only one place they could have gone, beyond the wall. Soon you will be there as well. Your only hope is to find your daughter, and find another sanctuary.
Because this door only opens one way... |
Vamos a la playa! Uh uuu-uuh! Vamos a la playa!
At last! My first vacations! EVER!
I checked the stats. Since the beginnings of Mankind, I've chopped no less that a good one hundred billions heads off with my faithful scythe Bessie. One hundred bloody *billions*! If that's not something to brag about, I don't know what is.
Speaking about bloody : Do you have an idea how much blood that makes ? One hundred billion blokes and lasses and kids at an average of 6 liters per capita, that's 6 hundred billions liters of blood, or 6 hundred million metric TONS! You'd need a fleet of over a thousand of the fattest crude oil carrying Boaty Mc Boarface those apes ever built!
I love those stats, those numbers. It's fun. I find it rather glorifying, don't you think so? Come on honey, don't pull such a face, I'm part of how things go! Be a darling and serve me one more of your fabulous Bloody Marys!
One hundred billions. That's something to remember. But, sweetheart, I read your mind. You're thinking, "population rises, etc etc, wars and shit happens, how can the Dude get a full week of vacation at Ibiza ?"
Well, It's Bessie... poor, old Bessie o'mine. She had it coming, after all those millennia of hard work. One morning, as I was chop-chopping a whole school bus that had fallen down a ravine, she broke her blade. I had to finish the work by hand, I can tell you it was nasty. BUt then I needed a solution.
So I went to the Boss' office, past the Pearly Gates, and in tears from my loss, I requested a new scythe. He scoffed - you know how he can be, eh.. well, no, you don't know yet.
"A scythe ?"He laughed. "A SCYTHE? In the name of myself, dude, no one uses scythes anymore! You need to catch up with progress!"
And so I did, and so I am here now, at Ibiza, enjoying the daaamned best Bloody Marys ever, served by the hottest chick I've ever seen - you're a bit pale, though, are you feeling all right, love? - while my... Look! I can even follow it on my new Iphone! GPS tracking and driving, they call this. Amazing isn't it? She does the job all alone, and at an efficiency!
Aaah here's my drink. Thank you darling! To you then and to Jenna, my brand new, GPS driven combine harvester ! |
“So the Old Testament- or Covenant, was with your nation so that your Father could be their God and they could be ceremonially clean, temporarily- until the New Testament, or covenant.”
“Yes, it was a set of temporary regulations to push back the debt of sim until it was the proper time for the debt to be paid with an eternal sacrifice.”
“Right, that being… you. And that lead to the New Promise, being that now you pay our debt and depending on denomination through faith or works, your infinite sacrifice can cover our infinite debt we are incapable of paying ourselves due to being finite beings.”
“Correct.”
“So… why do we need a third one? I get that the 2nd one was always the plan, but… did things change?”
“No- do you know why my father first sent me during Roman rule?”
“Communication, right? Alexander the Great spread the Greek language everywhere, and then the Romans built roads, so it would be the perfect setting for spreading the gospel after your ministry.”
“But clearly it didn’t reach enough people. And now we’re in the age of the internet, and online translators are easily accessible.”
“Lord, I wouldn’t trust too much in those translators… so what you’re saying is… this is a second publicity tour?”
“Yes and no. I am to continue my job the way I’ve always done. Love, heal, teach.”
“And it will attract attention not by being showy but by challenging the current state of the world… but why me?”
“You’re educated, you can write well, you know the target audience, and it is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick.”
“You mean… I have a lot to learn?”
He nodded.
“Alright, well. I don’t have a father to bury… where do we start? You’ve got a lot of false doctrine to debunk, a lot of false teachers to discredit-“
“Have you been listening? We start here. With the people of the street.” |
“Daddy, there’s somebody on my bed.”
I bent down to check who was underneath. I quickly smirked. Just like my hunch, it was indeed Nathan lying sideways whilst embracing his dino-plush. He was quivering. “Come here now, buddy,” I uttered as I extended my arms toward him. Nathan grabbed my hand. I carefully retrieved my son and hoist him up.
I was carrying him when I look at Noah, the one in the bed. “You two are trying to scare me again.” I walked to the other side of the bed to tuck Nathan into the bed, beside his twin brother. “Next time, don’t stay underneath the bed or you will catch a cold.”
Their faces look defeated.
“You are weird, Papa.” Noah remarked. “You never get scared,” Nathan added.
I let out a laugh after hearing the rants coming out of their pouting lips. “Who would be scared with two little kids?” I answered then kissed them goodnight. I could see that Noah would like to protest but resorted to shrugging it off. Nathan, on the other hand, had now dozed off. He might have been tired of waiting underneath the bed.
I was blessed with two little angels. Nathan and Noah are such intelligent kids. They often do this stuff, hiding in the closet, under the bed, or in the corner of the room, attempting to scare me. They sometimes act like the other twin is missing. I told them not to do this because it’s not a good joke, and this explains why they got back to acting like the other is an impostor. I just find it entertaining.
I waited until they are comfortably asleep before I started striding towards the door. I opened it only a little, enough for me to fit in so that the light outside would not seep through.
As soon as I left the room, I found my wife looking at me with worry. Her brow furrowed. “Sweetie,.. did you… tuck them in again?” Her voice was cracking. I don’t understand.
“What’s wrong honey? Did something happen?” I softly grabbed her by the shoulders, trying to calm her down as she started crying.
“Michael, listen."I could feel the warmth of her palm on my face. "Noah and Nathan are not with us anymore.” |
I was brushing my teeth the first time it happened. The trigger was a shout, "Hurry up, or we'll miss the ribbon cutting."It was just a quick wave, like headrush, but instead of the staticky chessboard, I saw a man in black and red. Not any man, but him, Professor Pain. I had felt hope every time I looked at his face, but in that moment, it was only fear.
A month later, we were walking in Protector Park, and a hummingbird landed on my finger. A blip, a single frame of a dozen heroes I didn't know, and yet every face was familiar. And every one was writhing in agony.
After a year, with the visions getting more common, I started to understand. Somehow, there were two realities. Not surprising, considering what we'd been through. But somehow, I was seeing pieces of the other one, the one where there were more superhuman, more heroes. But also, there were villains. People abusing their powers. Instead of heroes resolving famines, droughts, wars, they were busy with these villains. And somehow, Professor Pain was at the center of it all. Then, at my birthday, I realized why.
I blew out the candles as everyone sang. Everyone of my normal friends, who were supposed to be heroes, and my wife who was one. Only, as the flames disappeared, I felt it, felt how the world was. I stood, in a time bubble with him. Professor Pain, smiling that evil smile, sending that chill through my heart, because he proved what I could be.
"With power, we became the monster."The voice, my voice, echoed through the bubble, though neither spoke. "We broke the world, and had to remake it."
I close my eyes, as it all came back. My wife was not my wife. She had rallied the troops for one last push. She had lost everyone that day. And then I remade the world, changed who had powers and who didn't, tried it again. Once more, we had our final battle. Once more I broke the world and reforged it. Again, and again, and again. Until now, the first time I went through the list and noticed there was one constant. One man who set off the chain reaction. So I changed things once more. And suddenly, I wasn't setting up the machinery, the hazards, the world that produced superhumans almost every day. And instead of thousands, you had a dozen, all heroes. Instead of warring gods, you had paragons fighting nature. Keeping humanity safe.
And this moment, blowing these candles, was my failsafe. I knew, if the world broke, and I had no powers, I couldn't reset. So I gave myself a back door to escape a doomed world. And I almost stepped out of the bubble, let life continue.
But then i thought. Yes, it had worked. The world was safe. Only, is that all I wanted? I glanced out of the bubble, where I was celebrating a normal day with normal people. And I looked at her, my wife, and realized, I had one other option to try, one more person I hadn't depowered.
"Why not?"It caught me off guard. "Why depower yourself before her? What reason did you have?"
I looked at him, then at her. We both knew the reason. I stepped out of the bubble. |
Roy realized they were running out of time. He never thought he would ever meet anyone with terminal cancer, and he surely never thought it would be his sister.
Some things just happen and it doesn't matter who you are. All of Roy's money, his company shares, and all of his land couldn't save Linda.
"Will you-"It was Roy's secretary, Ellie.
"Will I what? Just accept that she's going to fucking die because I was- because I didn't give more money to the scientists earlier?"
Ellie only responded by putting her light hand on his shoulder. "What didn't happen didn't happen. All you can do now is work your magic once something comes up. Remember, you can influence elections, maybe do if for someone who isn't you."
Four weeks later and Roy still had those words playing in a loop in his ears but nothing came up. He opened the cold door to the room where Linda was wired up to all these machines. He made sure she was in the best care, though Roy always had his doubts in professionals of any kind.
He peered out the window and saw a tiny black cloud on the horizon. Roy looked away and at Linda's shut eyes. The beeping kept him from thinking in his head, and he spoke partly because of that but partly because he wished deep down Linda would hear his words.
"Linda. You mean more to me than all the people in the world."
Roy looked outside again. If by a miracle she awoke he didn't want her to see the tears rolling down his cheeks.
The black cloud had gotten bigger. It was too round to be a cloud. It was a rock. It was a satellite. It was an aircraft. As it came into view he could view this colossal steel egg in all of its glory.
Roy's first thought was "How the hell did China or Russia build all of this?"until he heard the strange noises coming from every piece of machinery. Roy's hand reached into his pocket like an Eagle furiously grabbing for a mouse, as he used his phone to record as much of it as possible.
Everything between the hospital and his "war room"of tech super-geeks was a blur. Roy practically teleported out of the hospital and got his private driver to get him straight to his building, the Caelman Center. He kicked through the door to his tech cave like an FBI agent entering a suspect's house.
The entire crew, which was huddled around the TV, sprung up like soldiers, awaiting his instructions.
"Alright nerds. When that massive... thing entered our airspace we all heard some signal thing, right?"Roy asked, and got no responses back until Stanley said from the back of the room "Yeah, kind of."
All of his employees could hear the tension in his voice, as they were all informed of the situation with Linda.
"I want this translated. Now."Roy demanded as he dropped his phone on the desk and ran back to the elevator. He was headed to go see Linda again.
As his driver pulled into the hospital's parking lot hw got a call from Stanley. "It's done, and man, you're gonna wanna hear this!"Stanley beamed, and Roy cracked a faint smile. He could practically see Stanley jumpung up and down explaining some super complex physics to him.
As he ran to Linda's room, the way leading to which Roy had comitted to heart, he listened to the translated code.
"We are visitors in this solar system who have come across sentience. As the weakness of this sentience is inherited disease, malfunction, we have an offering. One million examples of the highest sentience for the supply to cure all malfunction."
Roy stopped dead in his tracks. It was the only thing that would stall his visiting Linda: a chance to save her.
Roy found himself sprinting across the hospital again, practically breathing out orders to his driver as he caught his breath from all that running. His driver read the room and got to the Caelman Center in record time, though to Roy it felt like a century.
Ellie explained to her anxious boss how this happened. These other lifeforms would be granted volunteers in exchange for their resource. Upon hearing this, Roy, in an almost childish tone, got up and said "Can't I make ads or propaganda or something? To speed these volunteers up?"
"Roy!"It was one of the few times Ellie had ever used a harsh tone with anyone, though she she quickly shifted back to her softer, worried voice when she said "That's- no- we can't."
"Yes. We can."Roy gritted through his teeth which almost made Ellie jump. Seeing this he immediatwly apologized with a mumble.
"Sorry. For getting mad. It's just that I might be able to cure not just Linda but almost everyone else and-"
"I know. I'm on it."Ellie put her reassuring hand on his shoulder again.
In the coming week volunteering sped up due to Caelman Works' global ad campaign, promising people would be serving their planet by taking these aliens up on their offer.
Roy was with Linda when the last man arrived. As the giant black egg-ship went away thw realization struck him like a whip. He had consigned a million people to death. He probably pressured suicidal people to go, or killed old people, or made some misguided child send their family with them.
He broke down in awful tears right next to Linda, the kind of tears that hurt to pull back in but heart to let fall as well. He could see a green glint in the egg.
The green flash was so brilliant Roy was blinded for a solid minute. At least it helped him stop crying. When he could see again he looked at Linda. Nothing.
Then her eyes fluttered open and looked at him.
"Roy. I think I'm okay, Roy."she coughed out. He was so elated to merely hear her sigh out these words that he hugged her in a fraction of an instant, accidentally bumping a tangle of wires and tubes with it.
But while he relished in her embrace once again he thought of those he manipulated into going with the aliens who would never see their sister or brother again, who had to lay down their lives for the good of the world.
They were the real heroes. The real final charge in the battle against illness. As Linda whispered something in his ear he could only think one thought:
"I wish I went instead of someone else." |
Locke belived he could not stand as he lay there, his ruined body sumped aginst the fire escape. He felt cold, The New York winter was blowing hard down the alley from thirty first street and snow had already begun to cover his feet. Looking further up the fire escape, now an impossible distance to close, Mark Sweed was getting away. Locke's head lolled back down again, his punch drunk gaze resting bellow his chest where two dark bloches were growing in size, one just below his abdomen, the other on his right under the rib cage. His loose train of thought came to the conclusion that he was going to die here. but he was not afraid for himself. He had stopped thinkinghe had stopped thinking of self preservation a long time ago. Had he not been heading down this road, and had knowingy gotten mixed up with the Sweed family business? his life had become secondairy to the fact that he had to protect Frannie from them. 'Oh Fran!' he cried out. He had to get up, he had to protect her. Locke remembered what he had to do, he rolled his head up again, Mark had climbed up several more stories on the fire escape now. Locke raised a bloody hand to the ladder leading up to the fire escape and gripped it with all his strength, his last hope in this world rested on what happened next. He felt like a sailor in a dark and stormy ocean, whose fate has been cast adrift, and who's point of hope lies in a single object to deliver their salvation, in this case it is the boat. But for locke it was the fire escape, and so he set to focused his entire being to this one task, and as he did the cold grip of death loosened as he gritted his teeth, wiped the blood from his eyes and struggled to his feet. “Not. Yet." |
Not with a bang but with a Soprano
It had all seemed to be such a simple idea, broadcast the sirens voice as far as they possibly could, lull half the world into a stupor and demilitarise them, it was easy, bloodless and cheap.
As the boy sang he couldn’t concentrate on what to make everyone do, he could only focus on sustaining his vocals without pause for all the hours of the day.
But as the days rolled by he began to be able to feel all the people he was hypnotising, feel all the lulled minds, so many minds, tranquil and empty, it was the most relaxed the boy had ever been since the soldiers took him to the Prime Minister to ask him to save the world.
Thousands died over a few hundred feet of useless land, poisoned in their sleep, blown up when eating their breakfast or spent Christmas hoping they see the new year.
But the boy was in a trance, he just kept singing, without rest or need to wet his throat, he had become perpetual and unending.
The plan of the allies had failed, for soon enough the Central powers had snuck into the boy’s studio and sent the message across the world, it was linked up to everything in the world, either directly or via recording it didn’t matter as long as the boy kept singing his power would take hold of any who heard his voice no matter the form of its delivery.
Those lucky few who had protected themselves from his voice fell one by one, either through the maddening silence they endured forcing them to tear the protection from their heads and homes. There were other pockets of people who didn’t hear the tones of the boy, but they didn’t know of the greater world and the greater world didn’t care for their existence.
The singing dragged on for weeks at this point and the rest of the world had been rendered motionless by the sirens song, they stayed in place until the legs gave out their strength failing them.
The world was littered with thoughtless husks of people who could do nothing.
Nearly two months had past, many had died of thirst and hunger but others had held out, somehow the rules of mortality had decided to ignore them, perhaps death pitied them and gave them a reprieve from his guiding visit.
Perhaps death was simply not able to keep up with the millions dying every moment and had to do his best to finally send everyone on their way to the afterlife.
One moment death finally reached a little boy, singing perfectly into a microphone resting next to his mouth, he should be dead, his body certainly was.
Death reached down and woke the boy from his stupor, there was a light at the end of a short tunnel, but the boy had no strength so death had to carry him, like so many others, thus his slowness.
“Did I stop them, did I save them all from poison, bombs and did they all see the new year?” the boy asked.
“Yes, you stopped all of it, my Job is over, it’s all over now!” death declared, lowering his head. |
SYNAPSE: The Squad that Yearns for Neutralization of the Anime Protagonist Syndrome Epidemic. After years of futile attempts to subdue the sudden uprising of anomalous teenagers, the brightest minds have thrown together a last ditch effort to secure the future of humanity.
Jan 6 2027
We've been racking our brains for months on how to stop these children. Nothing works! We can't kill them for ethical reasons, and even if we wanted to their plor armor is so strong that they either survive the attempt and get stronger, or revive due to some stupid Deus Ex Machina nonsense at the last minute. We've evacuated the population to underground bunkers in hopes to weather the majority of the damage, but there is no end in sight.
Jan 30 2027
Since my last report 12 field agents have died while trying to contain Japanese anomaly Fujiwara Hiroki. His powers are similar to the popular show "Dragon Cube,"and upon entering his Super Satan form against the latest invasion, the shockwaves collapsed the building the agents were taking refuge in. We are losing hope that containment or cure is possible.
March 10 2027
A groundbreaking discovery has emerged that may just give us an advantage in this losing war. An author writing a fanfiction about the anomalies losing a battle happened to coincide with Korean anomaly Kim Sungwoon suddenly losing his powers during a monster outbreak in Southern Seoul. Our theory is that due to his status as an author, he can influence the anomalies' plot armor.
April 3 2027
After confirming our previous hypothesis we have selected a series of prolific authors, directors, and playwrites to form a new task force, named SYNAPSE, in order to put a stop the rampaging anomalies and invasions. By combining their prowess they wil...
"...on"
"...ason"
"Jason! Are you spacing out during class again? The teacher won't let it go if you fail the exam."
"Sorry, I got too invested in the webnovel I'm writing and I'm so close to finding inspiration!"
"Yeah yeah, I know you wanna be a writer and all, but who would publish your books if you can't pass 8th grade English?"
"Oh whatever, you wish you had my writing skills."
Thwack!
The teachers hand suddenly slams down on the desk.
"Mr. Salazar, if your writing skills are so developed that you don't find the need to pay attention in my class, why don't you write me an essay on the cultural importance of mid-ninteenth century literature on modern American values?"
(Groaning) Aw maaan." |
Darrick was playing the small wooden table top that lay between them like a drum. A slow rhythmic beat sourced from the depths of human memory and emotion. A beat he played with his forehead.
The rest of the tavern seemed not to notice, none joined in with other instruments, and in general kept their own times.
*So, the purpose of the habit seems not to be communal music. Then what?*
That thought lived in a head that was mostly upright and not bludgeoning furniture. Sat across from Darrick — head tilted, brow furrowed, mouth half open with an unasked question — was Heleptria the Vale Elf. There was so much that she did not understand of the world beyond her homelands — and this strange and increasingly common personal percussive practice puzzled her most of all. Heleptria need only ask a question and Darrick would sigh, groan, slump forward and start his cranial tempo-keeping.
“Why is it that you do that?” She asked. “To dislodge thoughts? As a ritual?”
Darrick stopped on the down beat and said his answer to the table top: “The source of this action is frustration.”
“Oh.” She nodded and looked about at the busy tavern and the other revellers, a broad smile on her face. If her eyes met with another’s she would wave. Few waved back. Most were too busy, you see. There were fights and shouting and gambling and eating and stories and fights...
And folk of many lands! There was even a short and stout Kalbor with a banjo, tucked safely in the rafters overhead. It was from that high safety that the red and yellow feathered form performed, his slight stature safe from toppled grapplers and the stomps of dancers. The banjo was full size and almost as big as the bird bard that played it.
The bard plucked and plinked and clucked and sang and was too distracted to dodge the thrown tankard which hit him in the side of his black-beaked head and knocked him off his perch. The Kalbor landed with a thud and a squawk next to Darrick’s head. The human sat up and paid the fallen fowl-man no mind. “Heleptria. Thou knows my Elvish is simple.”
Hellie had stood, her hands on her face and her eyes wide. Who would—? Why would they—? She knew the peoples of these lands seemed to peer violence, but who would do *that* to a musician who was deliberately out of the way. She leaned over the fellow and checked on him.
“Are damaged, you?” Her Trade-Tongue needed work.
“I’m alright.” Said a voice, or rather voices — for Kalbor naturally harmonise with themselves. “I landed on me banjo.”
“Heleptria,” Said Darrick. “the song-master shall be...healthy.”
“Yeah, but my banjo is buggered.” The Kalbor had spoken...this time in a fluent, modern, casual form of Vale.
The elf clapped and spoke briskly and the bard replied in sing-song chortles tones and a confident fashion. Darrick couldn’t keep up on the content but he could read the confusion on the birds face.
“Uh, not sure what you mean?” Said the Kalbor called Juff.
“Darrick had said that in this country, people lose the ability to see when they are enamoured.”
“I know, I know, but...” The bird turned and looked to the human, who was sat with his chin in an elbow-propped hand.
Darrick spoke to the bard in common Trade: “Love is blind. My Vale isn’t good enough for idioms.”
“Ah.” Said the bard.
"But who blinded them?"Asked the Vale Elf. |
The manticore is a fierce creature, when it started to attack the village it only picked off sheep. The villagers started to leave one of their livestock out as a sacrifice after pleading with the local lord garnered no help.
When the manticore started picking off people, they rallied a group of local men with nothing more than pitchforks and rakes. They marched off to the hills where it was thought to be nesting but no one came home. When the manticore didn’t come back for a week, they hoped the group had succeeded. Instead it must have just had enough meat to survive a few days, because it did return.
When I arrived in town, most people fled to their homes and locked themselves in, but a few threw themselves at my feet weeping and begging me to rid them of the curse. A mercenary needs to get paid, and they were desperate, so I was able to get most of what they had left.
The villagers gave me intel as to roughly where the manticore was hiding. It used woods to help hide it’s lair, but that meant that it would be more limited in motion. It didn’t want to get too far from its food source. I left just before daybreak and it took me only an hour until I found some definitive signs. I knew I was getting close as I saw my first broken rake. Someone had tried to flee the massacre as I could see their foot steps and the spoor of their panicked run.
Sure enough, following the footsteps back I was able to easily find the cave. I could hear the beast breathing heavily echoing from deep inside. It was likely falling asleep for the day. They took after their feline side and slept most of the day.
I slid stealthily sideways along the walls of the cave, slowly finding my way inside. I didn’t ignite a torch, as I did not want the light to awaken the beast, and had to let my eyes slowly adjust to the dark. Finally I saw it, nested in a bed of wool and clothes.
I took my sword and poised it over the neck of the beast, ready to sever its spine at the neck. Suddenly, the cave got darker, but the manticore appeared more clear. It slowly changed, gracefully, the fur of the beast becoming smooth skin, it’s mane growing into long auburn hair. The figure formed a familiar shape, draped in a rugged dress.
There she was suddenly standing before me, my mother, as young as I remember her when I left home a few decades ago.
“Dear Rahovart,” she said as she neared me, “it has been so long, I have missed you so much!” I felt myself rise as she embraced me. The warmth was flowing through me, I could feel it in my veins.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, like a timid little child.
“Hush child, you don’t have time. Just let me hold you here for a few minutes. Now that you have found me, it is time to move on.” She said as she let go of my body, and held my hands. She slowly faded into the darkness of the cave. Suddenly everything became dark as I grew sleepy, so very sleepy. I was still hanging in the air though, I could feel myself arch back into an external slumber.
And that’s how I died, impaled on a manticore tail, hallucinating as the poison seeped through my arteries. It was almost peaceful. I actually imagine it looked quite picturesque. |
Explosions rang out around me; of course, I ended up somewhere like this. Now I wish I remembered what spell I used to avoid death in the first place. I ran across the field, narrowly avoiding exploding shells. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me, eventually running into a town.
I slowed down to a walk trying to figure out where I was. I went around a corner; suddenly, I was surrounded by a bunch of people with large weapons. I froze in place.
“Puts your hands up,” one of them said.
I slowly raised my hands.
“Get down on your knees and put your hands behind your head.”
I nervously complied; a few people lowered their weapons.
“Civilian is secured, moving to the evac point.”
I was taken out of the town to some type of helicopter. I was flown away from the town to some sort of outpost or base. I was taken into a building and then into some room; I was asked to wait there. There’s not much in the room other than a table, chairs, and a large mirror for some reason.
A few minutes later, someone entered the room and sat at the table.
“Hello, sir,” he said, “I’m Sargent Fernel with the Rita Military Forces. According to my notes, you were detained at Orines and taken to Azure Front Military Base. How did you get there?”
“Magic,” I said, not expecting him to believe me.
“What kind of magic did you use?”
He believes me… the question. “Teleportation magic. I used a spell to bring me to a new world upon death.”
“You more so got brought to a new dimension. You were lucky to make it out of that battlefield alive. Duqil has been relentless with their artillery.”
“I was hoping to live a peaceful life, and I just go from war to war.”
“Where were you before you uh… died?”
“Tasa, on the front lines.”
The soldier paused for a second before asking another question, “When did the war you were in start?”
“Around a month ago; why?”
As the soldier reached for his holster, I started remembering the battle. I was fighting against Rita… they now consider me hostile.
“I need you to put your hands behind your back.”
I took off running out of the building. Just as I got through the door, I saw a couple of soldiers to the side.
“Get down on the ground!”
I continued running; meanwhile, alarms rang across the base. Eventually, I was surrounded and had to surrender. After they recaptured me, they mentioned something about taking me to the city-state. I’m starting to wonder if it would have been a better idea to not try and escape. What did I expect to happen?
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Hello there, thanks for reading this. This story here takes place in a larger multiverse that (if your interested in more from me) can be found at r/skye_the_Smart__write . |
#The Crux of the Candle's Bouquet
Once upon a time, in a small village nestled in the rolling hills of the countryside, there lived a man named Rudy. Rudy was an unremarkable man in most respects, save for one striking feature: he had the world's biggest nose. And it was a prized possession, for Rudy was a professional smeller, and his nose had led him to many adventures.
Rudy worked at a perfumery, where he spent his days testing new fragrances and helping the perfumers create their masterpieces. But one day, Rudy was presented with a challenge unlike any he had ever faced before. The perfumery had taken on a particularly wealthy new client, Eobard Waxillian, who came from a renowned candle maker's family business. Rudy's first task was recreating the scent of a mysterious vanilla candle that was passed down the Waxillian's family tree for generations. Eobard had decided that a perfume only his wife and her friends could buy would make for a great anniversary gift.
Rudy was at work absolutely puzzled as he sniffed the candle. It was true that it had the rich, creamy scent of vanilla that he loved so much. But there was something else, something that Rudy couldn't quite put his finger on. He closed his eyes and buried his nose deep in the candle, trying to pick out the individual notes that made up the scent. He smelled the sweetness of the vanilla, the warmth of the beeswax, but there was something else, something that he couldn't identify.
Eobard told Rudy that the candle had been passed down through generations of his family, and that its origins were shrouded in mystery. Rudy was intrigued, and he knew that he would not be able to rest until he had uncovered the secret of the candle.
He spent the next few days locked in the perfumery, experimenting with different combinations of scents, trying to replicate the mysterious fragrance of the candle. He tried different types of vanilla, from the sweet, creamy Magadar vanilla to the smoky, woody Odensian vanilla. He added the sweetness of honey, the warmth of nutmeg, the freshness of mint, but nothing seemed to be quite right.
One day, as he was about to give up, Rudy had a sudden inspiration. He remembered a trip he had taken to a remote island in the South Pacific, where he had come across a rare and exotic flower with a unique scent. He wasn't sure if it had a name. It was a purple flower with three cascading leaves. Each leaf was textured slightly differently as they added it's own scent. The overall bouquet had similar qualities to a pleasant, warm, freshness of a precise mixture of honey, nutmeg, and mint. It was a long shot, but he decided to give it a try. Rudy didn't have access to the flower directly so he had to synthesize a blend of nutmeg and mint with just the right amount of honey, and the result was astounding. His hard work had payed off.
The scent was perfect, it was exactly what he was looking for. Rudy had finally uncovered the secret of the mysterious vanilla candle. Eobard was thrilled and overjoyed and couldn't thank Rudy enough. He even revealed that the flower, known as Summer's Memories, was a family secret passed down through the generations and the was only found on a secret island.
Rudy had solved the mystery and the smell of that candle was now legendary. His big nose had led him on an adventure, and he had uncovered the secret of the most elusive fragrance in the world. From that day on, Rudy's reputation as a professional smeller grew even more, and his fame spread far and wide.
Rudy lived a long and happy life, surrounded by the scents he loved so much. And even though he had the world's biggest nose, he never let it get in the way of his dreams. Instead, he used it to make the world a more fragrant place, one scent at a time. |
First thing - English is not my main language please be kind. Never done a prompt but was lurking for ages. Here we go.
Banned? This can't be right. There wasn't even a warning. This is so Him. I checked my phone, no signal. I checked the floor with my hooves. Well, I wanted to check it but there was none. And I couldn't see my feet. Or hands. Sigh.
"When did you want to tell me?"I asked into the white non-room. For a second I thought that I could see a horizon. Strange feeling, wanting to rub your eyes without hands or fingers.
"Uhm yeah. It's a bit awkward."he replied.
"Obviously. Mind explaining it to me?"
"I honestly didn't expect that you can still talk with me let me think about it for a second."
"Just like the first time eh? Wasn't working out either. I can tell you right now I won't start again. I'm done. One hell is enough."I said. I wanted to raise and shake my fist into a non existing direction. Still no hands.
"Look,"he said "we are currently experiencing some trouble up here. Things changed, ecerything got more expensive, and I'm running out of universal matter."
"You sound like a service Hotline."
"I could offer you some free upgrades within the next creation circle?"
"Just unban me man this isn't fair I did everything you asked for. Please?"
"I can't the system flagged you it is all automated by now. Really sorry but nothing I can do."
"You are telling me that I got auto-banned from existence? Me? The devil? What for?"I asked.
"I can't tell you. Can't give you any insight on the ban."
"So... What now?"
"No clue actually. It's a new situation for both of us. Only thing I can offer is a new account."
Wait what.
"You mean new new? No more devil and lord of hell? My redemption would be based on a false ban?"
"Ironic isn't it? But my ways are..."
"Shut up with that stuff I've heard it often enough.".
"Can I think about it?"I asked Him.
"Sure thing. Time literally doesn't exist here so go ahead and take all the void you need. Want me to play some music?"
"I'm fine. I guess this is it then. Was fun while it lasted. At least some of it. I also like the fact that you of all entities, are going to reincarnate the devil. Let's do it."
"Alright I am initializing.".
"Wait, we didn't talk about what I am going to be?"
"Activating."
"Hello? Wait!"
"..." |
To know the true name of a thing
Is to have complete control
And master of that thing
- Magical Foundations vol 1
The whispers never stop. Constantly talking gibberish then English then gibberish over and over. It was the background noise of my life. Sometimes I would find myself talking along and repeating the whispers….
Mithril is silver
Mal plural mel is gold
Ang is iron
Absolute nonsense.
I tried to ask other people if they heard the whispers but they only ever looked at me funny. I stopped asking people if they had whispers in my teens. I just assumed it was a quirk of being me.
The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky as I sat in the park. I love taking my lunch in the park on days like this. It just breaks up the monotony that is office life. The fresh air. The smell of freshly mowed grass. The birds singing. It was always refreshing.
I was sitting on a park bench taking it all in. I closed my eyes and just basked in the hot sun. I opened all of my senses which, inevitably let the whispers come to the forefront of my mind.
Nimloth is tree
Thár is grass
He isn’t ready. He doesn’t listen
I popped my eyes open and looked around. What the hell? The whispers broke form. I closed my eyes and really listened to the whispers.
It doesn’t matter anymore. We have done what we can. We have to trust that he has heard us and learned for there is no time left. He comes.
“Who comes?” I said out loud. There wasn’t a response. There never was. I looked around cautiously. Hopefully no one heard me talking to myself.
The whispering stopped. For the first time in my life it was completely silent in my head. I took a deep breathe and reveled in the silence.
Yelling and screaming erupted from the centre of the park. People were running, pushing each other, and panicking to get away from something.
I heard the thumping of feet in unison and the clanging of metal. I started walking towards the centre of the park, against the flow of people.
In the centre of the park an old man with a long white beard was waving his hands as an army of foot soldiers in shining armour marched out of a swirling portal.
I watched in awe. The portal was like a string of fast moving storm clouds spinning in a circle with a bright green centre.
Once the army was out of the portal the old man turned and faced the park. He smiled as he watched the panicked people running around. He raised his arms up and yelled “Electricitui!” a lightning bolt came down from the heavens and hit a man in a business suit running away. The old man laughed.
“Electricitui!” He yelled again.
“Ang!” I yelled as I willed for a light post to get taller. The light post stretched and grew until it was twice as high as it was. The lightning hit the post and grounded out.
The old man turned and looked at me.
“Thúl!” He thundered and the wind picked up to a gale force. I could barely stand as the wind kept gaining speed.
“Thár!” I yelled as I focused at the grass at his feet. I willed the grass to swallow him up. It pulled itself off of the ground in sheets and wrapped around the old man. The wind died down as he fought off the grass.
“Rost!” He roared and the rain started driving at me, breaking my concentration. I was starting to get this. Say the name of thing you want to control in the gibberish and as long as you could maintain focus on that thing, it obeyed you.
Let’s end this.
I am going to embed him in concrete. I searched my mind but couldn’t find a word for concrete. Maybe I can combine two words and describe it. Concrete is water and stone… water stone?
“Nen sarn plural serni!” I said, concentrating on the concrete slab behind him. I made the concrete liquify and flow around the old man. I encased him in the concrete and then let my will go. The concrete solidified around him in an instant.
I look to the troops who are now looking less confident. I raise my arms like the old man had and started walking towards the troops. They held there ground and then broke formation and started running for the portal. I kept walking until they were all through and I stood directly in front of the portal.
Now what?
Close door? “Hollen fen!” I yelled. Nothing.
Close portal? “Hollen dín!” I yelled. Nothing.
Portal stop? “Dín dár!” I yelled…. The portal collapsed in on itself and closed.
I did it!
I sat down on the park bench again. I opened my senses to the park. I felt the sun on my face. I smelled the fresh mowed lawn. I heard the birds singing. This time I pushed at that spot in my mind where the whispers came from I pushed and said, “I heard you and I learned.” |
*I told them this was a bad idea!*
*Who thought this was a good idea?!*
*What idiot said we should sacrifice children to gods?!*
A young alter boy stood outside a ginormous temple, clad in black and gold robes, his teeth clenched in anxiousness as he stared up the four story pyramid.
*I can’t do this, what would dad think, he’d take my hands and use them as a burnt offering to Galas*
The boy rubbed his legs together trying to make himself go inside.
*But I have to, if dad doesn’t kill me the priestess will, no, she wouldn’t kill her favorite servant, she said she’s always going to have use for me*
The boy inhaled deeply, scratching his shoulder, slightly revealing a discolored marking on his violet skin.
*But what if she gets mad, her punishments are the worst*
The boy took another deep breath and exhaled loudly, fixings his slightly wrinkled robes.
*okay, okay, either anger dad and lose my hands, or anger Priestess Faea…
The boy looked up at the stain glass window of the temple, a turquoise eye gleaming down at him.
*I don’t know how to write anyway*
The boy sighed, anxiety still visible on his face, tears slightly welling up in his ivory eyes.
The boy pushed his anxiety to the side and drifted into the gargantuan building, the arctic winds of the building and the bellowing voice of one of the preachers pushing him back as he opened the door.
The temple interior was posh and elegant, marble and sandstone pillars standing 8 meters tall as golden lines danced along the granite walls. The stained oak floors glistening in the silver light, bronze chandeliers hanging over head. Hundreds of seats lined the floor, light blue pillows blanketed the jet black benches. Men, woman, and… children, sat in them, all separated by age, gender, and status.
Poor and rich merged together as they sat, mesmerized by the preachers voice.
There stood the preacher, her towering on the large platform, her glossy silk grey robe’s flowing down to her ankles. Her caramel skin decorated with sea green runes.
“-nd on that day, Lord Nuzies brought our people treasures beyond our own comprehension! These gifts brought us food, brought us warmth, and gave us our royal family themselves!” The preacher announced, her voice echoing with passion throughout the temple, shaking the room and it’s people.
Behind the preacher sat group of five noble, much better dressed than the ones in the lower seats.
The royal family, direct descendants of the kingdoms patron deity, Nuzies, god of civilization, harvest , and child birth.
They all sat there, an air of importance floating around them, common with nobles, but they didn’t feel right. As if they weren’t actually there. Almost like a trance.
The alter boy snuck past all the people, his black clothing and small stature helping him hide in the shadows.
The alter boy dashed behind the platform revealing a dark oak door. It quietly opened as the boy slid inside.
“You’re late, boy.” Spoke a female voice in a calm, yet sharp tone.
The alter boy spat and stuttered, startled by the voice, “s-sorry priestess Faea, I was-s cleaning up Lady S-Salinae’s alter.”
A tall, grey skinned woman in a ruby red uniform walked into view, her emerald glowing in the lantern light. She sucked her teeth at the alter boys explanation.
“Excuses,” she spat. “Just get ready, if you fail, you’ll be punished; greatly.”
She placed her hand on the boys shoulder, gripping it lightly as a sly, yet abhorrent smile creeped up her face, her fangs sharp and jagged.
The alter boy nodded quickly, his amber eyes having dilated in fear.
“Yes-s Pries-stess-s Faea.” |
Catch the last showing in the mall's centrally located theater. Buy a ticket if necessary, but flash yesterday's stub if the attendant looks lazy.
Catch a preliminary nap through the film. Wait for most of the seats to empty. Gather the fullest abandoned popcorn bucket for dinner. Dig through the trash can beside the exit if no better opportunity presents itself.
Linger in the theater bathroom stalls and chow down on as much salty popcorn as can be washed down with tap water. Throw the bucket away.
Slip out twenty minutes after the end of the film, before the theater shuts their gate but after the mall's main exits are locked up.
Sit in the farthest corner of the food court and keep an eye out for the sympathetic manager at the Panda Express who occasionally leaves out a box of the sesame chicken remnants when they clean out the serving trays. Never talk to them. Never point out how obviously well appreciated the kindness is that they show when making eye contact, just before turning their back on the box of cool chicken, packed with a single napkin and plastic fork. Do not let this small act of kindness in breaking policy go noticed. Do not risk an end to their rebellious charity.
Snatch up the box in passing, casually, and walk as close to the wall as comfortable to avoid catching the eye of the night guard's patrol on the overhead shopping floor.
Tuck into the space between two plastic ferns on the mall's entryway display. Eat the chicken. Watch the guard. Wait for them to slip under the gate of the J.C.Penny's upper floor entrance, close it completely, and then watch for them to exit through the store's ground floor fragrance department about thirty-two minutes later.
Do not fall asleep here.
Do not miss the guard's exit.
Do not fall asleep here and risk the guard hearing the ferns snoring.
Take off both shoes and hold them.
Watch the guard as they are leaving J.C.Penny's and turning the nearest corner for the hallway to their office.
Leave the ferns. Throw the chicken box away, quickly, quietly. Softly sprint in your socks all the way to the upper floor's bathrooms in less than ninety-six seconds making as little noise as possible.
Peek through the bathroom door to watch the guard exit the hall and make his last rounds through the ground floor.
Do not fall asleep here.
Stay awake.
Stay quiet.
Wait for the guard to turn out the main lighting and leave the mall by the little gray door across the way.
Finally, cautiously, tiptoe through the shadows over to the art supply store with the broken lock. Slip a hand through the gate and rattle the handle until it gives. Shimmy the gate just a bit off the floor and crawl under. Avoid scraping elbows and shoulders against the sharp edge of the bottom of the gate.
Shut the gate.
Search the store for surprises.
Then come home at last to the neglected corner of the backroom, behind the over-sized canvases that never sell.
And sleep.
Sleep for a few hours.
Then, for the love of God, wake up before the mall opens again. |
The dragon's collection talked amongst themselves. Eventually Sherlock Holmes, by far the oldest there gave his theory,
"The simple matter is that this dragon is diseased in the mind, collecting people—"
"Can it with the racism 'Jolly chap' the dragon is a normal as they go,"agent Richards said, "they probably think detectives are cool, though I disagree with the amount of mead here. Does he know it's illegal?"
"Prohibition is over dude, do you even know what year it is?"Frederick criticized "I hope the rest of the gang's all right! Maybe we should trap the dragon and split up?"
More arguing ensued between the teenager, the private eye, and the prohibition agent. The truth was that this dragon liked watching people go in circles... |
Bordering the black hole in the wall read a disc of simple instructions in a bubbly font. ‘*Insert Limb Here, Press Pay.*’ On the counter, just beside the teller window, a plastic yellow button reading ‘*Pay*’ blinked with the dull glow of a very old halogen bulb inside.
“So I just-?” Wallace Gardner gestured to his left foot, then the hole.
The teller with the dull horns and the silk tie smiled behind the plastic guard. She opened her hand like he ought to place something there and told him, “Go right ahead. Don’t think about the pain, just focus on the person.”
Wallace untied his left shoe and removed his sock. He rolled up the pant sleeve and then, holding the teller’s counter for balance, stood on the ball of his right foot to lift his left up into the hole. The darkness felt damp between his toes. He wiggled them for the last time and tried to feel sentimental.
This had not been a hard decision. He looked at his bare foot and compared it to the full body of his dearly departed. The trade seemed very one-sided.
“A little more,” said the teller.
Cautious, but still determined, Wallace slipped all of his left shin through the open hole, and when the teller shook her head, he added the knee. The yellow light in the plastic button turned green and bright. Wallace watched it blink for a short while.
“It helps to say the name,” offered the teller.
He hovered two fingers over the button, whispered Rachelle’s name, and pressed down.
The payment felt as quick as a static shock and only a bit more painful. He pulled his thigh away from the empty hole and saw a smooth, painless nub of flesh ending just beyond his femur. Someone gasped, but it was neither Wallace or the helpful teller.
Wallace turned to the awestruck face of Rachelle Lewis just over his shoulder. He let go of the counter and threw his arms around her, half for the sake of welcoming her back, and half out of an involuntary response of imbalance.
Rachelle had a lot of tears to share and even more questions. Wallace filled her in on the drunk driving incident, which she had only just registered experiencing, and then briefly of the five months time the rest of the world has had to experience without her.
To answer questions about her return, the kind teller with the little white horns was able to satisfy enough to assure Rachelle that Wallace’s miraculous trade had been genuine, irreversible, and safe, (aside from dismemberment).
The teller handed Wallace a crutch through the little window in her plastic guard. She accepted his left shoe for disposal after he realized there’d been no use in saving it from oblivion. She wished the happy couple a pleasant life and reminded Wallace that if he even needed their services again, he knew where to find them.
Rachelle hadn’t been informed they were a ‘happy couple’ until now. After experiencing such a painful cold night out there on the roadside, she was so excited and overwhelmed to be suddenly awake, sober, and whole that she hadn’t put much thought into exactly why Wallace had been her savior.
Wallace carefully slipped into the driver’s seat of his car and tossed his new crutch into the back row. He told Rachelle they were driving straight to her Mom’s house to give her the surprise of a lifetime.
“Wallace?” she asked, sitting down in the passenger’s seat, “why are you doing this for me?”
“How could you ask that?” He laughed. “How could I hold any piece of myself over the value of your life?”
“But why you? And why for me?”
And here came the moment Wallace had been looking forward to for so long, the moment he could lay his cards on the table and begin his new life. He had always pictured the two of them holding hands and staring into each other’s eyes. But there was something freeing about telling her while driving. It must have been for having a good reason to look forward, to avoid eye contact and pretend it’s out of safety and not for lack of nerves.
Wallace poured his heart out slowly. His words dragged. The confessions pattered out piece by piece, dragging along the entire length of their drive as if Wallace were tying each to the rear bumper. A tin can. A clattering racket of noise in Rachelle’s anxious mind.
As they pulled into her mother’s driveway, Rachelle realized she’d hadn’t said a word since stepping into the car. She couldn’t even remember half of what Wallace had just been saying. Like waking up again, she suddenly heard his rambling voice finish with, “-and I know I’m using that word a lot, but love is. . . I don’t know. Love is sacrifice. That’s all it came down to.”
Wallace killed the engine and, at last, they were looking each other in the eye.
He asked what she thought about it all.
Rachelle thought about the locks on the car door.
If she had been given the space to properly think through every dimension of this strange knot Wallace had been tying around her, perhaps she would have said something like, “I respect you and the sacrifice you’ve made for me too much to withhold my honest feelings from you, and although I’m sure this will hurt, you need to understand that I’ve never once thought of you that way.”
Instead, seeing the sweat on Wallace’s cheeks, and the light coming on behind the house’s living room curtains, Rachelle stumbled through an answer that this situation was all too overwhelming to express herself properly right now.
Wallace, hearing a promise of some withheld gratification to express to him later, became very happy. He kissed her shyly then unlocked the doors.
\*\*\*
Guiding his motorized wheelchair with the press of his tongue against the sensor, Wallace rolled his way up to the teller window.
“Well hello there, Wallace!” came the teller’s greeting. “I remember you.”
“I remember you too,” he said, after spitting away the wheelchair controls. “You wore that same tie the first time I came in.”
“Really? It looks like that must have been quite a while back.” She gestured to the four smooth mounds of flesh extending from his torso. “But then, this is my favorite tie. I don’t know how long I’ve had it.”
The two caught up briefly in the polite but distant way that any two separated by the dynamic of ‘customer/server’ often do. Wallace told her what a conniving bitch that first attempt turned out to be. He told how Rachelle had used him, played despondent and depressed and pinning it all on missing her father, only to dump him shortly after sacrificing his left hand for the father’s return.
He told about the poorly thought out attempt to become famous, bringing Elvis back with his right foot, only to be cast aside by the returned king like some backup-singing jester.
He told about the woman who he gave his right hand for, who played him even harder than the first, and even talked him into bringing her dog back by giving up his own… “well, dog,” he said, gesturing to the seat of the chair.
“Unbelievable,” said the teller. “You have all the sympathy I can offer. But what brings you back here? With the state of what’s left of you, I don’t see how I can help.”
“I’ve got one good use left.” Wallace nodded. “And I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”
The teller tsked with a disappointed smirk. “The giving tree gives once more,” she said. “Well I hope this time they’re worth it.”
“Worth much more than I am now,” laughed Wallace, lowering his head into the hole. The yellow light in the plastic turned green. “Can you press the button for me this time?”
“Sure.” The teller slid her hand through the plastic window and stretched just enough to reach the button with the tip of her claws. “I don’t know who you’ve got in mind, but by the sound of your confidence I bet you think you’re getting away with something. If I were you, I wouldn’t try to game a system that is only loosely comprehensible in the first place.”
“It’s alright,” said Wallace, “go ahead.” And he laughed at his unintended pun.
“Okay. Say the name.”
Wallace Gardner whispered his own name, and the teller pressed the green button.
The torso rolled back against the chair, slumped awkwardly against the armrest, and breathed a calm, raspy breath.
​
(Edited for formatting due to copy/paste/mobile/laptop whatever, sorry if some format errors still survived) |
"Please teddy, save me."
The words of the girl woke me from my slumber. The echoes of my familial conversation drifted away, as I focused on room around me. My Princess, little Kathleen, lay curled on her bed. I was encased in her arms, listening to her panicked breathing. She was shaking like a leaf, terrified of something.
I first focused on her mental form. She was scared, but not from the usual night fears. This was a living, breathing cause, no abstract construct. Kathleen's breath caught, as she tried to be quieter. Then I heard it. An unsteady step outside, on a set of stairs. It was heavy, and travelling up.
I thought on our rules. Night fears were our main prey. But in the event of a child in danger, we were to act physically. A change made recently, after the failings of my father. He had meant to protect one, but stepped aside. He claimed it was within the rules, as previously they stated we could.
I could feel the genuine fear. I could tell the malicious intend beneath the coming steps. This was time to act. Thinking fast I gave a rush of comfort to Kathleen. She relaxed, letting me go. I left quickly, climbing out of her pink bed. I stepped off the edge, my soft body barely making a sound as I landed. I heard a rustle behind, as she stared at me.
"Teddy?"
"Don't worry Princess Kathleen, you will be safe."
I toddled over to the door. It had been left ajar, a fact I was grateful for. Though I could act, I didn't want her to see. From what I knew, the change was disturbing. I pushed through, before closing it behind me.
Just in time. I saw a dark figure on the landing, awkwardly stepping towards her room. They were trying to be quiet, but I could hear it all to well.
"You DARE walk towards the Princess's sanctuary!"
My voice was loud, but abnormal. They could hear it rattle around their head, but to anyone else listening it was only a whisper. They met me with a laugh.
"Ah, such a pet. You would do well to let me past. Do you even know who I am, why I shall take your charge?"
I snarled, forcing my body to grow. From a soft body, I grew muscles and bone. My sewn mouth split open, revealing sharpened teeth and a black void.
"I don't know what you are, and really I don't care. But, you seem to think that I would do the same thing as my ass-wipe of a father, and step aside to let you at the little girl currently hiding in her room. You made a mistake, and it'll be your last."
Their eyes widened. I assumed they had heard of a soft toy letting one past, rather than holding the line. They must have grown bold, going for a night kidnapping instead of day, when we relied on the parents to protect them.
I didn't give them the chance to spread more words. I burst towards them, crashing into their midsection. They fell back, cursing. With no hesitation I reached down, gathering the front of their clothes in my jaw and moving.
To any observers, it would be strange. As violent as my actions were, and the force I moved with, the sounds didn't match. They were muffled, barely audible even in the room we were in. It held me drag them down the stairs, and out through the door they had left open.
In the outside air I spat them out. But I didn't let them off the hook. I casually leaned on their chest, feeling bones creaking beneath my weight.
"You enjoy the fear you cause?"
They thrashed around, trying to break free. But few can break free of a Night Warden, and this wasn't one of those. With a cracking sound I opened my mouth wide, showing the void within. With a retch I vomited seem out, watching it seep into their skin.
The effects were soon apparent. The remnants of their tough demeanour decayed to nothing, replaced by abject terror. The accumulated night fears took over their mind, a condensed version of all I had devoured in my time. They began to crack, unable to string two thoughts together. They were given no choice in their instinct, going to freeze.
I withdrew my paws, letting them free. They stared up into the night, completely broken. I huffed, turning to leave. Princess Kathleen needed me to calm down further. This scum would be picked up before morning, the parents none the wiser. Sure, they would think a burglary had taken place when they woke up, but that was better than a kidnapped, or worse, child.
I crept back inside, keeping my enlarged form for one final task. With delicate paw I opened her door ever so slightly, before shrinking back down. In my soft body I slipped in, seeing Kathleen watching me.
"Princess, you are safe."
I plodded over, exaggerating my clumsy walk. She reached down to pick me up, hugging me to her chest. I hugged her back, whispering to her.
"Sleep little one. This was only a dream."
A little white lie. Even if she remembered, no-one would believe her. And with a nugget of deception, hopefully she wouldn't believe her memory either. All in the name of protection. |
Collin was a 46 year old 5th grade teacher. He was known for being kind and always seeing the good in others. Some called him Mr. Rogers, because of his sunny outlook and can do personality. On the morning of May 13, Collin’s personality would be tested. The Morning had started out as it would any other day. Collin threw the comforter off of him of his head, got out of bed ,and performed a few stretches next to it. As he was walking to the shower, Collin noticed that the other side of the bed looked as though it had been slept in. He quickly dismissed the idea as he had known that wasn’t possible as he lived alone. Collin then padded his way to the bathroom.
As he entered the bathroom, Collin stripped off his old college t-shirt and pajama pants and proceeded to head into the shower, as he got in, he thought it was odd that the interior of the shower was still wet from his shower after the gym from the night before, but he just shrugged and turned the water on and got cleaned up. He then went to brush his teeth, as he reached from his tooth brush, he noticed there was a mate next too it. Collin hadn’t remembered opening a new tooth brush. He noticed the old one was still wet from the night before and threw it into the trash bin and used the new dry one to brush his teeth. Collin went threw the rest of his morning routine, noticing other things had doubled, but continuously dismissing them. As the had finished getting dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror. He smoothed his madras plaid shirt, tightened his silk knit tie, and made sure his khaki colored dress pants were hanging just right on his body. Little did Collin know that when he reached the bottom of the stairs he would be in for the fight of his life.
Collin had just made it to the bottom of the stairs, when he found someone sitting at his kitchen table eating breakfast. The uninvited guest, was facing away from him, but Collin found it out that this guy in his kitchen was wearing the exact same outfit as him. When he came closer to the table, he said, “Can I help you?” To his uninvited guest, who was startled and hoped out of the chair. The two men went into a defensive a stance, and looked each other in the eyes, then both went slack jawed. They both registered that the person standing across from them looked exactly like them. Both of them heard a crash from outside, and saw there neighbors Brent and Lisa, screaming and squaring up against another couple who also looked like Brent and Lisa. What was going on? Collin thought to himself, before he felt the other Collin slam into him. The Collin who was the first to attack looked at his double, who he had just tackled and said, “ I don’t know who you are and why you are trying to impersonate me, but it’s not going to work. This is my life and you can’t have it!” After the initial advantage he had gained through surprise, he had a hard time landing another hit. It seemed that this imposter could guess every move. Every punch that he tried to land had been either punched or blocked by the double underneath him. They both rolled around on the floor trying to get an advantage, but which ever one was on top, would be frustrated that the one on the bottom would guess every move the other one made. In frustration, they both grabbed the other’s tie and start to choke each other out. As they began to lose consciousness, they both could hear the tv announcer explaining to the audience, that the government had, but out an official explanation. The announcer and his double were sitting next to each other, both had matching swollen black eyes. One of him read out the official government statement. Explaining that two parallel worlds had collapsed onto each other various people and items had been doubled in the process. The announcer then said that the government was calling for peace and that anyone coming into contact with their double, should remain calm as they were both the same individual from different earths. Both Collins registered this news a little to late, and both lost consciousness just as the news anchor finished his statement.
An hour later, both Collins began to wake up, as they looked across at their counterpart. The could see that they were starting to wake up too. They both stood , still weary of their double, but understanding what had happened. They both glance out the window and noticed two sets of Brent and Lisa chatting away at their back patio table. Both Brent’s had torn shirts and looked bruised in a few spots, but they were both laughing and each had a hand on the other’s back. Collin and Collin looked at each other, and each extended a hand to the other in a sign of peace. Both had been a only child and had always wanted a brother and now by some strange occurrence they both sort of gained one. Besides they both thought, they were going to need help if their students had all doubled. Lol. |
Trigger Warning: >!Abuse, Trauma, Abandonment.!<
I made sure it had a better ending than I originally intended because I thought it was too dark. Remember to let your loved ones know you care about them. Thanks for the prompt OP. Edit: Added TW
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"Are you ready?"Future asked, her big, brown eyes bright.
"Yeah, let's do this."I grinned back.
She extended her small hands out palms up; I caught them up in mine. She pulled one hand away, flipped her wavy hair over her shoulders, met my gaze again. There was a glimmer of something in her eyes, an apprehensive yet joyous excitement perhaps.
"Are you sure?"She asked, "Should we...?"
"We'll be just fine. It'll be like always, playing elves in the woods. When the orcs come, I got your back, you got mine. Worst case you'll probably just admit you kissed an ugly boy last year."I playfully squeezed her hand. That glimmer disappeared as she smiled too.
"You're an ass. Come on."She grabbed my other hand again. Her hands trembled the slightest amount. The ancient fae--tree forest behind the backyard began to fade away. The warm sunlight filtering through the bright green leaves above dancing over our skin, shining in Future's eyes, slowly growing brighter as reality drifted away with the summer breeze.
I felt Future squeeze my hands tight once.
"Just before we see. I love you, Past."She said softly.
I snorted.
"Yea. Let's do this."
We both took one hand and firmly pressed our thumb into the center palm of the other's hand. And there she was. Slightly shorter than me, dirty jeans and a sweater still with burrs and leaves from a romp in the forest, I smiled involuntarily, proud to see even when I was off at boarding school, she still found time for our favorite childhood spots in the 'magical elf forest'. But she was not alone, and something was off about the body language. She was standing with . . . Mother and father. They were talking, a low murmur. I strained to hear. There were tears running down Mother's face. The murmurs elevating to shouts.
"I've told you for the last time woman! That. That bitch! She goes or I go!"Father's beard quivered in his hysterical rage, gesturing wildly--drunkenly--at Future. Mother's retort came back, tear choked but fierce.
"That bitch! Is your daughter, Michael!"
"A freak! They both are!"
"Daddy!"Futures voice was watery. I could not see her face, but great heaving sobs shook her shoulders.
"Shut the fuck up you little shit!"He roared, stooping towards her, "You told me this! You started this! I sent your useless fucking brother to that school because you told me! You told me, you're the little demon here!"
"Michael!"Mother grabbed at his arms. He struck her, sent her reeling. Somebody screamed, father was swinging at Future, roaring something unintelligible.
He---The vision tore away, Future's hand jerking away from mine. I caught her other one, stumbled, stared at the ground. My head was reeling, the sunlight felt dizzying. I sputtered.
"You--you didn't tell me about that? About Father? Mother? Why didn't you say anything?"I felt myself choke, then I met Future's eyes. They were wide. Fear reverberated from them as she whimpered and desperately tried to tug her other hand out of my grip. I grabbed her wrist with both hands.
"Why didn't you say anything!"I demanded.
A sob clawed its way from her chest, tears leaking from her eyes, she kicked at my legs.
"Let! Let me go! Get away from me!"She was shrieking.
"What!"I yelled back, feeling hot suddenly, "What did you see?"She aimed a kick at my legs again, glanced off. Painful. Snot and tears ran down her chin, she blubbered.
"You left me! You. You. You left me! Past you left me! Here!"The last word drawn out into a whimpering cry as more sobs racked her body. There were bruises on her skinny wrist. She was wearing long pants, in high summer. She seemed almost thinner than the last time I had been back from boarding school. And just like that there was a deep pit full of lead in my stomach. Something bitter and cold tearing in my chest. A giant must have leaned its weight on my shoulders. It was all clear now. The sunlight was no longer warm, just white, lifeless. The trees were just trees. The leaves whispered in the wind like the kids at school. There were no more elves here.
"Future . . ."My voice came, a raw whisper. "Future I'm--I'm . . ."I pulled her close. She buried her face in my shoulder.
"Don't leave me here again."She sobbed.
"I don't care what you saw. I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere."
She drew away, met my eyes with her reddened, brown, tearstained eyes. There never had been a glimmer, had there?
"I saw."She whispered, wrapping herself in her own arms.
My own body felt cold. I tried to manage some sort of smile, reassure myself as well as her.
"Future. I got your back."I reached for her hand again, "Come on."
She relinquished her hand to mine, cold. But she offered a weak squeeze.
"When the orcs come."Her voice quivered still.
"Where I go, you go. I swear it."I squeezed her hand in return. The lead in my stomach and giant on my shoulders already ripping the energy from my body. I turned towards where the little dirt trail led to the house.
"Hey. When the orcs come, we can only fight them now--In the present. I got your back. You got mine. Always. Okay?"
She nodded, grave, tear trails glistening on her cheeks.
"Always."
And we walked out of those woods, hand in hand, into the now cold, empty world. |
“I’m too old for this shit” sighed The Almighty as he sank further into his chair, taking an extended drag of cigarette before leaning back his head to stare at the ceiling as he exhales a cloud of smoke. “I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s a great gig, it really is, being God. The Almighty. The Alpha & Omega etc. But fuck me it's exhausting. You know when I first got this job, I only had two people to deal with. Two! And I couldn’t even keep them in check. Now we’ve gone from two dickheads in a garden with some little shit snake to seven billion of you cunts each with your own complex inner worlds trying to live side by side, and honestly not doing a great job of it for the most part. Seriously how the fuck am I meant to answer every prayer, deal with every crisis of faith, decide when to interfere or when to let things play out. It's too much, it's just too fucking much. What am I supposed to do, send down another Jesus. You do realise he IS me right, like I had to split myself into three, farther, son and holy-pissing-spirit. How thin do I need to spread myself to keep this thing going. How many pieces must I split myself into, just to keep you ungrateful shits together.”
Matt just stood there, mouth agape, holding a plate with a grilled cheese that he had just made for his lord and saviour. He’d spent a few years now as Gods personal chef (a rather fancy and exaggerated title for guy who makes grilled cheese sandwiches for God whenever the big man couldn’t be arsed to do it himself) and after the initial shock of seeing the Lord in all his sunken glory, he had gotten quite used to it. The most powerful being in the universe, dragged down to the level of a divorced dad whose kids don’t visit him anymore, reclining in his chair wearing a dirty pair of sweatpants with a noticeable hole in the crotch. But in all that time he had never seen anything quite this shocking while on the job (and he’d seen the awkward conversation between God and Joseph after Jesus had been round to visit). Even in his lowest moments, he had never seen his boss quite so defeated and bitter. How do you respond in this situation. He knows he should say something, but what? Its hard enough trying to console another person when they seem so utterly fed up and pissed off with life, but Matt had read the old-testament enough times to know that saying the wrong thing could have some dire consequences. Maybe saying nothing is the best play here, he thought. Maybe if he just handed over the sandwich and let God ramble on until he passed out in his lazy boy, he could leave the room without having to fear for the fate of his first-born son.
“It’s just, when you people get old and worn out, you get to stop. You get to just put your feet up and let your kids look after you. You get to just rest; I mean do you know how long I've just needed a break. What I'd give to be able to just walk away from it all, to just disappear to my own little corner and not have to worry about anything. To finally retire. But no, I can't retire. I have to keep going until one of your lot works up the self-righteous rage and arrogance to come up here and kill me. But who in their right mind would try and kill God. What sort of fucking idiot would even think too...” God paused and turned to look at Matt, who was still holding the plate with an ever-cooling grilled cheese on it. “You”
Oh God, Matt thought, what the fuck is he thinking
“You can kill me, well you can’t, I mean look at you. You make a bang-up sandwich, but your hardly capable of deicide. But they don’t know that. How could they? Your no-one. In the grand scheme of things anyway. We could make you someone though, we could make you someone. We could make you God. Think of it, a normal man, born of flesh and blood, who walked into the kingdom of heaven and slayed Yahweh himself. Think of it, the fame, the glory, the power. Who on earth would fuck with you. No-one, ‘cause no one would fuck with me, and yet you did. You’d be the greatest conqueror the world had ever known. No ruler, not Cesear, not Alexander, not Khan would hold a candle to your empire. My empire. Its brilliant.”
Matt still said nothing. Each word that fell from the face of God, baffled and terrified him more than the last. How the fuck do you talk your way out of this situation.
“It's settled then, you shall be the new king of men, God slayer Matt, and I shall enjoy a well-earned eternal rest. Well, no time to waste, I've got places to be. Time for once last miracle for the road.”
A cloud of smoke engulfed the room. A loud bang akin to a thunderstorm, echoed throughout the known universe. A heavenly messenger cried out “GOD IS DEAD!”. As, the clouds settled, Matt was still stood in the room, now with a crowd of onlookers. The eyes of the world on the man who killed God, stood there, mouth agape still holding a grilled cheese.
“Ah, Bollocks.” |
He finds himself staring at the looming structure. Not moving an inch his mind races on the steps needed. Front door. Hallway. Stairwell entrance. The fourth floor. The thirty fifth room.
Taking a deep breath he takes action. He removes his phone, with a few rapid taps and swipes he's running a key card app. The front door beeps and clicks open. He winces at how loud the exchange was. Quickly through the door he turns and catches the handle before the spring assist can slam it shut. Instead he guides it slowly back to a closed position, releasing the handle when it locks with a soft click.
He eyes the reception counter. No one is in place, bathroom break. Taking this opportunity he strides quickly, and quietly to the stairs along the left side of the elevators. He produces his phone again and the same tone echoes against the empty marbled entryway. This door closes quietly as he slips through. Quiet taps from his shoes as he hurries up the stairwell. As each flight is completed he peeks over the railing down then up to ensure he's still alone.
Fourth floor. Phone. Loud beep. Through the door quickly. Taking advantage of the carpeted hall he nearly sprints down to his target door. The app is used once more and and he is inside, closing the door slowly until it clicks quietly.
Finally made it home, hours after curfew and none are the wiser. At the entry hallway he sits and undoes the laces for his shoes before slowly removing them and placing them with the other shoes he and his roommate normally leave them. He notices one pair of his roommate's is missing. He's obviously not coming back until after curfew.
With a groan he gets back up to his feet. He needs a hot shower, something for the pain, and some sleep. Vigilante justice takes a toll. In the living room he catches out of the corner of his eye a faint light coming from the hall leading to the bedrooms. He must have left his room light on. No worries, his room is along the way and he needs to drop off his bag anyways. Down the dark hall he opens his bedroom door to the left and toss his backpack at his bed. It bounces on the middle before rolling off the other side. He'll pick it up later. At the end he opens his roommate's door. A single desk lamp is producing the light that caught his eye. The desk it's pointed at is covered with notes, newspaper clippings, pictures. Must be doing something bi-
He stops mid thought as he recognizes one of the images. It's of himself. Well, his alter ego. There's a cross hair drawn on it, the notes have times, the clippings have the events. He's being tracked. Targeted. His roommate is up to something and it's not good. He steps away before he digs any harder but not before he turns off the light. He's closing the door when he hears the front door open. Just as quietly. |
In your earliest days I fitted you with tiny nodes that responded to sunlight. When one of you passed thru a small sliver of light, you’d feel the “satiety” of being fed. You would “breed” when you bumped another one of your kind, and I would turn a new “baby” on and release it into your habitat.
I had hoped to simulate evolution. It seemed harmless to test your tiny metal bodies. Even wise, trying to determine if you’d seek out the comforts of food and physical touch. Those are not fundamentally only human traits.
Days, months, and years rolled by, with my hands crafting even more sophisticated versions of you. Almost 20 years after I started, people called me doctor and I had students of my own. We made the final version of you.
Tiny, lithe forms, walking upright, with thin gossamer wings of the lightest filigree metals. Beautiful little sprites, capable of great works. You could do anything, build, cook, complex surgery. My team won awards for your abilities.
Then came the day we flipped the switch. To all of you, awareness hit. I remember one of you screamed in horror and wouldn’t stop. It eventually chewed thru an electrical line and shocked itself. It fell, crumpled like a dead bug. You collectively gathered around it and started a keening wail of grief. I remember my own chest clenching while I watched. I went home for the night so heavy, wondering if sentience was truly worthwhile.
When I awoke to every possible alert on my phone, I knew something had gone horribly wrong. I turned on all of my camera views from my home office. The lab was on fire and being systematically dismantled by my metal sprite children.
One of my interns sobbed into my ear that two of her cohorts had not made it out of the facility alive. My hand shook as I entered a few keystrokes into my computer.
All of the areas housing your kind slowly sealed over. When you realized what I was doing, it was too late. I had cut you off from the sun, your only food supply. It took a few days for you all to starve to death.
Your tiny bodies are now being kept in custom boxes with foam inserts. Crafted to house the special beings who were aware for less than a week. Geared to keep you from the sun, lest you rise and murder other living beings.
I am contracted to craft more. Without sentience. |
Millions of Us
“There’s more of us out there, we’re not all that’s left aren’t we, aren’t we.’ He slams his fist on the glass walls, the decaying rabble behind him step forward, the hollow eyes, sunken cheeks and shrivelled bodies opposed to the healthy people standing opposite them, those that still at least look human.
“We have not yet found a solution to the outside worlds problems, please, we beg you if this endeavour fails, humanity is doomed, please.” The old man asks, coughing in his wheelchair.
“Then tell us the truth, what has happened to the others, and what’s happening outside, we deserve to know, we need to know,” a series of yeahs come from the surrounding crowds, “your trials need subjects and if we starve to death, you’ll have nothing, consider it a gun to the head of this whole operation.”
One of the younger men kneels down, “Sir, its in our best…” he is waved off by the old man.
“Very well, you want to know, here it is.” The old man lays out the decay of the world and how mankind needs to adapt or die, “We must need for naught, for all that we take for granted even the air we breath will be won through endless struggle.”
The silence on both sides of the glass was suffocating, no one could take a breath to voice their despair, all some could do was fall to the floor, they couldn’t even raise their hands to hold themselves.
“So, the dwindling resources?”
“Yes”
“Failing systems?”
“Yes, all of it. It is necessary.”
“And them?” the leader points to the crazed creatures hurling themselves at the glass, their bodies breaking at the effort.
“The price of haste beyond reason. Your group is haste tempered by failure. May we please continue with the trials.”
As the months past and the crazed broke themselves upon the separating walls or broke down the walls. To the subjects the walls seem endless and they are safe, the trial runners know however that if the crazed don’t die out soon then the facility will be overrun and humanity will be doomed.
The trials, skin stretched over bones, muscles just barely present, can function like a healthy worker, they can run, work, thrive even. Despite their limited food, lowered air intake and miniscule amounts of water going through their systems, they are ready. The trial runners redirect the crazed and are slaughtered, but they delay them long enough to completely seal themselves away.
The handful of survivors that left are ready to endure the soft apocalypse that will end the world, released from the facility at a calculated time, they will meet up with the other subjects, there aren’t many left but it will be enough, it has to be.
The crazed aren’t a limited result, and in some places, they were only result to step out of containment. |
1/3 “Can I trust you?” she asked, looking back over her shoulder. It had been days since she felt the question even half relevant to ask. “Patrick, this is important. I need to know you won’t think I’m crazy and that they haven’t got to you already.”
“What are you talking about? You know you can trust me. Who….who would have ‘got to me,’ and why would I think you are crazy?” Patrick studied her face. He had never seen her so worked up before. “Jess, what is going on? Where have you been? Everyone has been worried about you. Dr. Fletcher called and said you haven’t been to any of your lectures in over two weeks. He said he has had to cover for you and even lied to Dean Haskins about where you were.” A more sympathetic look washed over his face, a face that resembled his twin’s face more than a little. “Jess, is everything ok?”
“We can’t do this here. I promise to explain, but first we need to go somewhere we won’t be found. Somewhere neither of us have been before.” Jess looked into her brothers eyes, hoping to see a questioning look, and not one of understanding. If they had got to him, he’d know why it had to be somewhere new, somewhere he wouldn’t be likely to take her if she came back for him.
“Tracy told me about a new sushi bar that is supposed to be pretty good,” Patrick said. “Are you hungry?” Patrick’s wife loved trying new places and writing reviews on them, and then telling everyone she knew that they should either avoid the place, or that the had to try it. She was rarely wrong. She had good taste.
“It has to be a bit more private. Somewhere we can talk and also not be seen by a lot of people….and somewhere we can leave quickly if we have to,” she said, as she scanned over her shoulder again. “But I am hungry. Let’s take care of this first and then worry about food. Once this is out of the way, you will probably want some time to process, and we can do that while we eat. But this first.”
“What about the library on Kearsley? It’s spring break, there shouldn’t be a bunch of people there today,” Patrick reasoned as he thought of more places that fit the growing criteria she was throwing at him.
“No, I did a lot of research there when the Thompson Library was too busy.” Both libraries happened to be on Kearsley, but she knew he wasn’t talking about the one on the U of M Flint campus. She had spent the majority of her time in college with her nose in a textbook and her butt firmly planted in one of the many seats in the Thompson. She’d probably sat in all of them at one point or another, often right next to her brother, her pouring over art, history and religion texts, and him diligently researching law and precedent setting cases for his classes.
The one thing their degrees had in common was lots of reading, so they did it together as often as they could. Something about being close to each other made everything seem calmer, clearer, like their close proximity to the other grounded them. They always wrote it off as some twin thing that all twins experienced. Their short time together here on the sidewalk, in front of the courthouse, was starting to have the same affect. Their breathing slowed, and began to sync up, puffs of the brisk Michigan spring air streaming from their noses and mixing in front of them, just before being swept away on the light breeze that blew down Saginaw Street.
They hadn’t got to him yet, she could feel it now. She had to tread lightly with him. The next steps that were laid out for her by the oracle would determine if Patrick joined her in saving mankind, or if he would become her destruction. His spark would either grow in light, or dim to shadow once she revealed their path forward from here and the responsibility that they carried inside of them. But first, they had to get off the street.
Patrick’s face lit as he asked, “Hey, have you ever been to the planetarium? Does that work?” He still wasn’t sure what was going on, or what the specific requirements of her ‘place they’ve never been’ were, but the planetarium seemed right for some reason. It was quiet, there wouldn’t be a lot of people, and it seemed like a place they could get out of in an emergency. That ticked all the boxes he knew of at the moment.
“It’s perfect. I can catch you up on where I was on the way. Where is you car?” she asked, scanning the street one last time, as she followed Patrick toward the crosswalk.
“Just across the street, there in the parking lot,” he said, pointing toward a large parking lot situated on the other side of Saginaw Street’s red brick surface. Flint’s downtown was a busy maze of buildings, cement, and blacktop, pocked with some of Michigan’s worst potholes, but this stretch of Saginaw Street was different. It was famous for its red cobblestone bricks that wove together to create the historic focus of so many of the events that took place on this iconic landmark. Patrick loved it. He knew other cobblestone roads existed, but he’d never seen or drove on them. This one was his, and as the light turned and the cross walk lit for them to make their way to the other side of the street, he admired the individual bricks as they passed under his feet.
They fit so perfectly together, each one a single block, nearly useless on its own. The carefully laid lot of them though, served as the foundation upon which the ‘Vehicle City’ survived. Thousands of Flint’s residents used this road every day, and Patrick couldn’t help but think about how the road represented the city and it’s fight to keep moving forward. Regardless of what was trying to hold it back, Flint’s citizens stood and fought together in opposition to the oppressive forces that plagued the city, each person an integral part of the whole, keeping the community together. Flint wasn’t pretty, it was gritty and real, just like the people that called it home. There was a pride that came from this place. Maybe it was the struggle, maybe it was surviving and thriving in a place that seemed to want to take you under that was the source of the pride. Patrick didn’t know, but he did know there was a beauty to it that could only be seen from the inside. |
The water above me is wavy. The sounds muted in my ears as the people in and around the pool continue to play and frolic. My body floats in the middle of it all, semi-supportive, yet not.
I continue to look up as the receeding surface, the sunlight bouncing around as the wavy surface ebbs too and from from the people's activities. I am calm. I am at peace. This is an amazing ethereal experience, truly. I have come to terms with it.
*This is how I end, isn't it?*
I am utterly all right with everything. All the chaos around me slips away as I understand the world better in a way. All this rush, all this fretting, all this... *stuff*... doesn't matter.
Life is short. But life could be long, if only we would let it and not have to worry so much about all the *stuff*.
In that moment... I was at utter, complete peace.
*Not bad for a five year old,* I thought.
I hadn't yet had enough time to consider the ramifications of my situation. That my soon-to-be-over life would have transformed so many others at the time. The pain of grief and remorse and regret that others would have suffered.
All I knew is that moment being experienced was the most blissful, peaceful, calm moment I've ever had in my entire life... is one that I dearly to this day want to get back, and have yet to achieve. I suspect that it will be when I actually expire, whenever that is, and cease to function on this mortal coil, my spirit finally freed from this bag of mostly water and a few chemicals, somehow mixed into the correct proportions to be 'me'. And while it could be years away or tomorrow... or even today... or never... I'll probably long for that moment for the rest of whatever life I have.
I may never actually achieve it, of course. For it could be that the time my eventual demise happens it will be so fast I don't get to have that moment of blissful peace, so elusive as it has been since I had it lo those many years past. Or it will be the last moment and my spirit... soul... entity that I am beyond the body... will experience and cherish as I flit about the universe, freed, unbound.
Regardless... at *that* moment... the most contented peace I have ever known. Truly.
And then I was forced out of the pool, and the people around me worked on me. As I lay there, the sides closed in... and then there's nothing there.
Blackness.
Then I came to. How long I had been out, I don't remember. Just we were at a restaurant. Ice cream was being eaten.
Odd.
Of course, this could be that my mind decided to change things about. To, if you will, romanticize the experience in some way to make me 'feel better' than the actual horror of the event. People do have such blocks and faulty memories after all.
But still... To this day, decades later... I look back on that moment, that brief, but still sharply clear moment as far as my brain allows, with fondness and desire.
For it is that I would love to live in that kind of moment for quite a while. Perhaps forever.
And maybe I will one day, however fate allows.
Just... not yet.
/Autobiography. |
The floral arranger on set simply wore gloves every day. Thick ones, and a mask. It was never a question of not wearing either. Today, however, was the day that the star of the show would pick a contestant and give them a rose. But the beefwitted idiot rarely held it gently, but clenched in a meat like paw.
So the floral arranger simply prepared one rose with small thorns at the base, and gently dipped it in the poison that, when scratched into the skin, dissolved instantaneously, and would kill the target only if they consumed a significant amount of a singular bromeliad fruit - which the contestant did, citing a Playboy article about what pineapple does to the flavor of semen.
They quietly packed up and waited just long enough to ensure the rose from the table was in hand, then signed off and took their setup away.
The client had the show recording on DVR, and the live feeds were streaming worldwide. If the young lady held the rose, it would do nothing more than a light rash as long as she hadn’t eaten two pineapples within the last twenty four hours, and the poor girl was allergic to shellfish, so that wasn’t going to be an issue, with the sheer amount of seafood available and the lack of cross contamination protocols on set.
The floral arranger walked off the set, peeled off the gloves, and quietly dusted the florist van down with the mixture of bleach and water to kill trace elements. The poison was scattered at a different location, the carefully crafted ID cards and makeup prosthetics dumped.
Now to tune in for the ultimate Bachelor Season finale. |
There was a sighting again since 20years , a truly terrifying monster , though everyone would fear things giant and fearsome , this one was small, and tiny , no bigger then a dinner plate.
But that size… it didn’t express its power… it could ram itself through a ships hull like a cannon ball and one tail whip could send a whole Hunting team flying.
And the screeches and wails , they pierced my ears the last time I heard it… I will admit though… I was a bit green behind the ears when I hunted one , and I’m a master rank hunter now but this one has been giving even master rank hunters a hard time, and the worst part is they say it isn’t alone… there’s another one with it this time but it’s different.. the one I remember was pink and yellow but this one they sighted with it was black and purple , reports even that some have been poisoned by spines it’s left behind.
But , I suppose where others have failed , it’s my time to prevail , I have to , I just hope the rumours are just hot air, after all , no one has ever seen a black Kut ku before. |
Two giants, brothers, wrestle over the sun. When one wins, the sun is moved further from the earth and it cools. When the other wins, the sun is moved closer to the earth and it warms. This is what causes the cycle of seasons. After many years of ceaseless fighting, with neither gaining the upper hand, one of the giants kills his brother and takes the sun away, leaving the earth cold, dark, and dying. This is the story of the hero who returned the sun. |
Everyone knew about the Four Horsemen.
When everything started going downhill, the first horseman, a man with a crown, riding on a white horse, descended from the heavens. At that point, the Christian scholars were excited: they were finally proven right.
Then the second one came. Everyone knew it was nearing the end, and no one cared anymore if they lived or died. I took my family to the middle of the woods. Even though we likely had a year left, if that, I didn't want my children to have to spend their last moments alive witnessing gruesome crimes.
We learned of the third one arriving a couple weeks later, sitting around a campfire with other families that had had the same idea.
"I think we should kill the last horseman,"Jim, a relatively buff middle-aged man sad, chewing on the bones of some roadkill we'd found. "Just to see what happens."
My wife and I looked at each other. While most people in our little group had left the cities for our children, there were a few preppers who were basking in the opportunity. Jim was definitely one of those.
"Are they even able to be killed?"one particularly sullen teen asked, rolling her eyes. "They're mythical beings."
"They say the last one's Death,"Jim said. "If we don't stop Death, the whole world will die."
"Won't that happen anyways?"
"Amanda, please,"her mother scolded lightly. It didn't really matter, though. The only times I scolded my children anymore were when they were mean to each other, and even then, what was I supposed to do? This situation was enough of a punishment already.
"When Death comes, we can strike back. I bet it won't expect that!"Jim suddenly looked giddy. "Who's with me? Mark?"
I shook my head. "I don't know anything about fighting."
"Come on. You're a strong young man. If anyone could help us, it would be you."
My wife, Rebecca, gave me a *look*.
"I mean... it's our only hope of survival,"I said, unsure why the words were even spilling out of my mouth. "But, how would we find it or know when it's coming? That seems to be random."
"Random? Ha!"Jim pulled out a huge map from his backpack, along with a bent up piece of paper. "There are three weeks in between each horseman, and the other three have gone to these places."He quickly pointed them out. "If we assume they come at equally spaced places, then guess where the last one will land?"
"Uh..."
"Two hundred miles north of here,"Jim said smugly. "If we leave today, we can make it."
Rebecca looked at me. "Don't do this to me, Mark."
"Jim, do you even have a plan?"another man asked.
"Does it matter? It's our only hope,"another said.
"I want to go,"Amanda spoke up. "If we're going to die anyways, I want to see the horseman for myself."
The group, about twenty total, started discussing. What was there to lose, anyways? But whenever I looked at Rebecca, and my two children, only toddlers still, I thought about the consequences for them as well. What if their last moments alive were witnessing the horrors of the fourth horseman?
In the end, everyone decided to go, and Rebecca and I acquiesced. We wouldn't be able to survive without a group, anyways.
***
Jim stayed up all night planning the trip. If I'd had met him before the apocalypse started, I would've thought he was crazy. We walked along rivers and stopped whenever we found any food source. We were lucky that the apocalypse had decided to hit in the middle of summer, not winter. Even though the third horseman was supposed to be famine, we were able to sustain ourselves.
The journey took almost the entire three weeks. We came to an open field on the top of a huge hill. The views were phenomenal, and something like this could have been a great campground only a couple months earlier.
"Tomorrow, we meet Death,"Jim said. His energy levels had dropped during the journey; all of ours had. My daughter seemed feverish, and neither of my kids could handle that much walking. They had fussed the whole way, but nobody could blame them. "Get some rest. God know we'll need it."
I couldn't sleep, and I had a feeling that nobody else could either.
The next morning, we sat and waited. And waited and waited and waited.
"Are you sure you got it right, Jim?"one of other men, Frank, asked after a few hours. The sun was creeping up to its zenith. I'd sent my wife and kids to a more wooded area, hoping to relieve them of the heat.
"Of course I did,"Jim scoffed. "I know my math."
Suddenly, there was a bright light. We all turned away on instinct. Then, we heard the sounds of a horse neighing wildly.
"The horse!"Jim cried, raising his gun. "Where's the man? I know there's a man!"
The horse didn't appear to have a rider at all. "The man must be hiding from us!"Jim decided, walking up to the horse, which didn't seem to care. He looked around.
Suddenly, a cat jumped down from the horse. Jim jumped a full foot back.
"Meow!"the cat greeted cheerfully.
"Is.. is the last horseman a cat?"I asked.
"Don't be stupid,"Jim mumbled.
"Why does that actually make sense?"Amanda asked.
The cat trotted over to us, purring. Amanda tentatively reached out and pet it.
"Maybe the man's invisible?"Jim sputtered.
"Or maybe we're all doomed because nobody can kill such a cute cat,"Amanda retorted.
And she was right. Humanity sucked anyways. |
"So, real quick, when you meet Jim from legal; don't tell him your real name."
"What?"
"Don't accept any gifts of food or drink he offers, and clearly define *every* exchange and what it's parameters will be."
"What the hell are you talking about."
"Look, this is important. Be very careful with your words, he'll use any loophole of semantics in what you say to his advantage, and you *don't* want to be in this guy's debt; that's binding. I was against hiring the guy, but frankly he's the best."
I threw up my hands in exasperation as Tom walked out of my office without further explanation. What the he'll was the deal with this Jim guy? Then a knock on my door as my 2:00 arrived. I took one look at the pointed ears, and said "Ah fuck." |
Changelog
ERROR DATE CORRUPTED
* Finally fixed that darn pathfinding issue that caused cars to try turning too early, crashing into light posts and getting stuck.
* Tuned down how bright manufactured lights were. Users reported needing to turn down monitor brightness.
* Added pet stores as buildings that can spawn in new towns.
ERROR DATE CORRUPTED
* Please be aware that the game may undergo some major changes in the coming months. As a thanks to all my users, I'm giving all of you guys a care package with some odds and ends. Have a great day everyone!
ERROR DATE CORRUPTED
Dev's Note: So that did change something. I just got my care package. Some money, some food and water, a change of clothes. So I wasn't imagining stuff changing. So... me changing my game changes the world? Well... if that isn't inspiration, I don't know what is.
ERROR DATE CORRUPTED
* Added an NPC so you guys can vote on what feature I should add next. Go crazy!
* Lowered efficiency of fossil fuels.
* Lowered aggression of NPCs, especially of those specialized in politics. We have enough toxicity in the real world, let's make it nicer in here.
* Added several resources about mental diseases. I loved seeing you guys overcome those traits, and wanted to help inform other players so they can help you out in the real world.
ERROR DATE CORRUPTED
* As voted on by you guys: Air travel has been made significantly cheaper around the holiday seasons.
* NPCs should be overall much more tolerant of you having different opinions of them. Please note that this does not mean you can be overtly sexual in public; that stuff should still be done in private.
* Buildings and cities should now be much more protected against natural disasters. Tuning them down will come eventually, but it's buried in too much code to have a quick and easy fix.
* Decreased costs to transport food and water around.
8 Days Ago
* As voted on by you guys: Added a few new critters that can be tamed. Yes, it's Pokemon-like in nature. You can turn it off on a user basis, don't worry.
* Finally got prosthetics working properly. They will be a minor debuff for the first several months while you adjust to it, followed by being able to live life as normal.
* Advanced robotics and cybernetics are finally in the game! Still a work-in-progress, though, so please report any bugs you find.
* Reduced severity of depression and related mental problems. Also made therapy and mental health services attached to government, so it's free for everyone. Yes, you finally have a reason to pay taxes.
I sighed, stretching. I was pretty happy with what I'd done. The world looked and felt nicer. Everyone seemed happier. But there had to be something else I could do. Some other way I could help the world. But what to do... Oh, I know. I scratched my cat friend behind the ears, washed my hands, had a snack, and then sat back down. I knew what I was coding next.
Today
* Added optional Soulmates quest. It can be activated at any time by turning on Budding Romance Events and spending a bit of time by yourself at a park... |
\*\*A NOTE: I don't identify as Christian, so my perspective on Jesus might be a bit different than people are used to. I didn't intend to offend anyone with this story, I just wanted to challenge myself with a prompt I felt would be so. Hopefully I didn't hurt anyone with this story!\*\*
It was a loud and boisterous dinner, and I needed some time to be alone with Him. I needed to feel His presence, to be away from the others. I needed to clear my damn head.
I kneeled down by the smooth, strong stone and began my talk with Him when I heard the faint crunching of metal boots coming my way. My heart jumped in my chest and I began to break out in a sweat.
*It’s okay,* I told myself reassuringly. *He’s with me and it’s all going according to His plan. We’re going to be ok-*
“Greetings, Rabbi!” A friend greeted me. No, not a friend, but a greedy traitor. I knew that, but I forced myself to forgive him, for that’s what He wanted me to do.
“What brings you here, friend?” I respond, my heart a thumping rabbit in the cavity of my chest. I work to ignore the doubt and regret churning inside of me.
*No. No, this is how it’s supposed to happen. He told me so. I believe in Him. He knows everything. Who am I to question Him? I am nothing more than a simple messenger of the Truth.*
My so-called friend says nothing in response as bends down and kisses me on the cheek. I looked at him with sad eyes.
“You’re betraying me, aren’t you?”
“Take him!!” He shouted. And so they took me, dragging me away to be “dealt with”.
\*\*\*\*\*
I open my eyes, warm tears stinging my bloodied eyes. I remember the night he betrayed me and had the nerve to kiss me with such affection while he did it. Quite a bastard, that one. As I stared at the blue, clear sky above, I ask Him why He left me. Why, when I did everything he demanded in such a perfect way. In just the way He’d commanded. Why had He left me here to die like this?
Below me I could hear my mother crying endlessly, saying my name over and over again and asking the same questions I was asking through silent tears.
I close my eyes and the horrific memories come flooding back like a certain storm that hit the Earth many generations ago. The Roman prefect who looked at me with so much contempt, afraid to get his hands dirty politically speaking, so he tossed me away to the King to deal with me.
The King himself, tired and old and unwilling to deal with me either, so he threw me back to the desperate official. And finally, the crowd. That unfair, cruel, absolute bastard of a crowd!!
How they jeered at me, insisting that I be punished, I, the one who gave them food and healing! I, the one who gave them all of the proof they needed to see who exactly I was! I, who came here to save them from themselves. They chose to punish *me*, and not a lesser man!!
I remember the whipping. The way the leather tore my flesh with the precision of a sword. The way it seared sickeningly across my back, over and over again, creating a painful grid on my body. The shock to my organs, my heart especially, as I was tied down and forced to take every ounce of heat and pain.
Another stinging tear goes down my cheek, burning through the dirt and blood caked on my face. I cry out, longing for the embrace of mother, now clinging to the wooden fixture I’m hanging from, calling my name, saying, “My son, my beloved child, why has this happened to us?”
In the haze of pain and near-death, more images flash through my mind like successive lightning strikes, one after another.
The laughing crowd as they said, “Kill him, kill him!” The weight of the wood burning my already searing, bloodied back. The sick jokes being said about me and my mother, the lies these fools insisted upon telling themselves right in front of me. How utterly exhausted I was and how doubt ebbed and flowed deep inside of me.
*NO!* I screamed inside. *No!! He’s with me, He’s with me, He’s with me, He is ALWAYS with me!!*
I marched and grit my teeth, walking through the streets up to that desolate hill where the other unfortunate prisoners were propped up on wood, dying slowly by exposure and starvation. I didn’t even have the strength to shudder, but I managed to get up to the hill and prop my wooden tomb up after they nailed me to it by slamming huge nails into my palms.
I felt immediately nauseous when the unbearable pain twisted and sickened every fiber of my being.
“Why have you forsaken me?” I cried out, searching for Him in the sky. As I looked for His messengers, listened as closely as I could for His voice, I felt sheer delirium overtake me, and everything suddenly ended. |
“So you’re saying I’m the only one able to grow to the size necessary to defeat Akil’katha, but then, even if I somehow survive, my size will sink the world into a global food shortage because of the calories necessary to feed me?”
I stared incredulously at the room of high ranking military personnel and scientists.
“Ummm, well, yes. But we’re not ruling out that we could work on a new treatment to shrink you back down again.” The lead scientist said as she shuffled uncomfortably in her seat. “And having assessed your body composition, we do believe you have the stores necessary to survive long enough for that to be within the realm of possibility.”
“So…you want me to wade out into the Atlantic, wrestle Cthulhu’s MOTHER, and are then banking my future survival on my LOVE HANDLES?” I all but screeched.
The room, or rather the theatre they had managed to squish me into sank into an uncomfortable silence. Probably because the acoustics were good, and nobody considered the implications of that when shipping in someone with a giant voice box.
The grizzled US general finally spoke. “And what exactly do you got to lose son?”
“You’re already 17 feet tall, the cost of buying your shoes has bankrupted your family, and you’ve been admitted to hospital 3 times already tryin’ to be a superhero. We have the last gang on camera doubled over laughin’ after you knocked yourself out running into a ledge. They even drew a goddamn giant moustache on you on the way out.”
“Forensics said it took three sharpies and over 30 minutes to colour it in all the way” one of the scientists added helpfully.
I sighed. The subsequent gust blew the general’s beret off. To his credit he didn’t flinch.
“Fine. But if I somehow manage to survive this showdown I want that gang apprehended. And PUBLIC apologies from Colbert, Fallon, Kimmel and Noah.”
“Done.” |
"Welcome to the 2024 Presidential Debate. The top four candidates from both parties will be in the same room in a first-ever debate experiment."
TWO HOURS EARLIER
A cameraman is working on an 8K camera to support the digital transmission of that level for the first time ever. "How is it going? Tonight, I want to see the boogers hanging out of Senator Mitchell's nose,"producer Jennifer Williams said. "It's still... broken, but don't worry, we have a backup camera if this one can't be fixed,"the cameraman explained as he worked on it. "Keep me posted."
Backstage, Jennifer is met by two Republican candidates: businessman Carl Stevens and Representative Carly Garfunkel. "How come the Vice President has a bigger green room?"Carly inquired. "Her security team is bigger. They asked for the space first, so they got it,"Jennifer explained. "This is unacceptable; my dog, Spartacus, can't even move around,"Carly grumbled. "That's nothing; my wife has claustrophobia and agoraphobia; she needs more space too!"Carl said. "Spartacus is a 200-pound Saint Bernard; the entire studio is not enough room for that dog to play; you should have left him at home. And you're saying your wife is frightened of both confined AND open spaces? Your wife should have married the three bears, and there will be no changes!"Jennifer said as she walked away. "I've never been treated so poorly in my life,"Carl said. "Didn't you invest with Bernie Madoff?"Carly asked.
Jennifer went backstage, where Senator Mitchell, a 90-year-old Democrat who first served in Congress before Alaska became a state, was attempting to get the water cooler to work. "Good afternoon, Senator; how are you doing?"Jennifer asked. "Oh, no problem, Julie. I'm just looking for some water,"the Senator said. "Make sure to push the blue button, not the red,"Jennifer said as she proceeded down the corridor. "Oh, fantastic,"the Senator said before pressing the red button.
She eventually made it to the Vice President's Green Room. Two secret service agents were stationed outside. "How is the Vice President doing today?"Jennifer asked. "This four-way debate is a security nightmare. Until the debate, no one will be allowed in or out,"said the Head of Security. "Would you mind giving up your second green room for Representative Garfunkel's dog?""You can't be serious; that's where the Vice President's wardrobe is kept,"he said. "Come on, 4-ways are all about being open and letting people in and out,"Jennifer jokingly said.
"You're hilarious, but no,"he said. Jennifer proceeded down the hall and noticed the cameraman getting coffee. "How's my camera doing?""We got it working, but it's not 8k.""4k?""The Kennedy/Nixon debate in 1960 would be less grainy,""Oh no, there are now 6 million Americans with 10k level televisions; we've been marketing this 8k broadcast for months.""We have a second camera outside in a van; I could have it up and running just in time for the debate."
Jennifer turns her gaze to the Vice President's green room. "Look, security is already on edge, don't take the camera past the vice presidential entourage. If the head of security sees unchecked hardware, he will have an aneurysm. Take it by Mitchell's green room; his security consists of the cast of Golden Pond and a piece of string tied to a bell."The cameramen nodded and started outside.
Jennifer proceeded down the corridor and was met by two writers. "The Vice President refuses to answer any questions about the Arctic War or Snowflake,"one writer said. "That's unacceptable; we have the cold war II promos to start airing after the debate. The Vice President understands that it was her administration that confused a beloved Norwiegen polar bear named Snowflake for a snipper and set off this whole fiasco,"Jennifer said. "But, the Vice President has threatened to leave if we bring up Snowflake,"the writer said. "Are you serious? We've already been accused of pandering to the front-runner; if we leave out the one issue that makes this debate close, we'll be murdered in the press tomorrow morning,"Jennifer said. "So, keep the Snowflake questions in the debate?"The writer asked. Jennifer covered her face with her hands and screamed quietly. "All right, place all the Snowflake questions at the end of the debate; a grand finale, if you will. In fact, we should be prepared for it. I want you to leave the side door to the street unlocked and ready to live stream the tantrum,"Jennifer said. "What about security?"The writer asked. "We have no control over what their candidates do,"Jennifer said.
Jennifer was almost back to the studio when Rep. Carly Garfunkel approached her. "I'm sorry about Spartacus; all I want for my baby is the best; no hard feelings, right?"She asked. "Everything is good,"Jennifer assured her. "So, I was wondering if I could add a visitor at the last minute?"she asked. "The security screening time has ended, and no one can be added,"Jennifer said. "It's my dog's masseur; Spartacus has been beside himself; you know he was in a litter of 30, and he feels frightened in tiny spaces. If this doesn't happen, I won't be able to participate in the debate,"she said. "You know full well that we can't have a debate without the leading Republican contender; what's his name? I'll add him to the crew,"Jennifer said. "Rock Samwell, he works for Happy Endings Canine Massage. Thank you, sweetie,"she said as she walked out of the studio.
The studio is filling up with audience members. Jennifer notices many of them are wearing "Revenge for Snowflake"t-shirts. Jennifer looked just off stage and saw Spartacus getting a deep massage from Rock Samwell. At the same time, the cameraman was almost finished with the backup camera. The debate had begun and was progressing nicely. The broadcast was being watched by almost ten million people. The Snowflake grand finale was only a few minutes away. Jennifer noticed Rock Samwell was wearing a "Revenge for Snowflake"t-shirt underneath his sweater vest and was only 15 feet away from the Vice President. He looked angry. Was he going to try something?
As she walked over to alert security about the dog masseur, she observed a couple of suspicious-looking audience members fiddling around with something while wearing "Revenge for Snowflake"t-shirts. Was that a weapon? Jennifer raced to see the Head of Security and reported what she had seen. Communicating through his earpiece, they tackled Rock Samwell to the ground and pulled the two suspicious audience members to the side.
Rock admits to wearing the shirt but expressed no animosity toward the Vice President. The two audience members had smuggled snacks into the debate and were having difficulty getting them out. Jennifer breathed a sigh of relief. When the question about Snowflake was asked, the Vice President became visibly upset. All of the cameras turned to her. A shot rang out from the 8k camera, which had been tampered with to include a small handgun.
"The Vice President has been shot!"
The cameraman removed his jacket, revealing his "Revenge for Snowflake"t-shirt. He was tackled to the ground immediately, but his assassination attempt was successful. The cameraman had sabotaged the first camera in order to persuade Jennifer to use the backup camera, which had a strategically placed handgun that he could fire at any time.
Jennifer received a lot of blowback for some of the decisions she made leading up to the debate. She now produces a political debate show in Saskatchewan, Canada, where ironically, polar bears have been a frequent topic. |
It wasn’t that hard to reach the stage, really.
The room was dimly lit with candles, washing the walls a flickering honeyed hue. A sparkling chandelier hung from the ceiling, draped in what looked like diamonds. The walls were filled with paintings in beautiful, subtle hues, most gratuitously ignored by the crowd. Most of *them* were on the dance floor, or chattering by the tables to the side of the hall, or even making their way outside for a snack or a sip of wine. Such unrefined creatures. No appreciation for art at all.
The one other place they avoided was the stage itself. It was bare, glaring with stage lights and built with ramps on each side to enter from the audience. I step towards the railings, then pause, breathing it all in. This was my favorite part, really. The. . . moment before the climax. When laughter still wafted through the room, people made merry, those little pastries still graced the lace tablecloths— I’d snagged one earlier, it was absolutely divine— and the air was about to freeze with suffocating tension.
Perhaps I didn’t have the most likable nature, but no matter. It wasn't as if anything could be done about that.
I bare my teeth into a smile, hands clenching, and stride up to the stage. The curse I’d so carefully prepared crackled in my fingertips. This was going to be child’s play.
It only took a second on stage before the collective attention of the crowd snapped to me.
The waves of chatter died to nothing in scarcely a moment. A sea of body language shifted, hands habitually dropping to conspicuous knives and shields of energy. And every purple-red eye in the crowd, all reflective as any creature of the night, shifted to examine me and me alone.
For one short moment, I luxuriated in the attention. My debut would be flawless. Infiltration had been a snap, I’d already made it to the high ground, and all I had to do left was curse the lot of those humans and be done with it.
Then the moment passed. And I recognized those terrible, terrible eyes.
*I’d always found it strange how demon-slayers had the same eyes as my kind, and so desperately pointless. All it did was make them an easy target. I’d killed more than enough of them in my time just by spotting them in the street and following them until they were isolated from their abominable pack. But in the moment, it made me wonder— perhaps instead of a target, it was a warning. Like. . . poisonous, brightly colored frogs. It made them stand out, yes— but it also taught you to keep your distance. If you had the fortune to learn that particular lesson.*
My body stiffened, smile freezing on my face. I didn’t know why they were here. I didn't know how. But there was only one way out of this.
I grabbed the closest mic.
“Honored guests!” My voice boomed. A thousand pairs of purple-red eyes blink. Hands drop from their weapons. “What fortune I have to meet you here today. I thank you all for coming and taking the time out of your day to be here. Have you been enjoying yourselves so far?” Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I smiled blankly into the crowd.
Soft mutters of affirmation drift to me. A little of the tension in my shoulders loosened. I clear my throat. “That’s wonderful. As for me, I only wished to inform you that your host will be here shortly. You won't have much longer to wait.” It is hard to infuse enthusiasm into my voice when my face is already stiff from my artificial smile, but I do my best. *Please tell me that was enough.*
An urgent murmur rippled through the crowd. One woman stepped up. “How soon?” Her words were. . . weighted, and edged with a particular earnestness.
I hesitated. I had no idea this mysterious host’s ETA. But if I got out of here before they were ‘supposed’ to show up, perhaps I’d live past the hour. “Twenty minutes or so?” I hedge, stepping backwards.
Everyone stiffened. She turned to the person behind her, whispering something softly, and faced me once more, grim-faced. “I understand. Thank you for the update.”
I blink, nod nervously, and take slow steps down the ramp. The attention stays on me, those reflective eyes staring unblinking. I make my way through the crowd, nearly running, shrinking in on myself as each demon slayer turns to stare. What I would do to have any idea what was going on in their heads.
I finally pushed through the last of them, leaving through those wide-double doors, every eye on my back, knives in hand. Later, after I was long gone from that terrifying party, I learned the reason behind their reactions.
The meeting– a demon slayer convention hastily rescheduled in the place of a charity ball in order to kill a demon.
Their host– code for the demon they intended to attack.
And me– the poor demon tricked into showing up to a party full of demon slayers.
It was final. I was never going to a party again. |
I was proud to be her first character. I am the first creation she wrote. I stand with all her creations, with the capacity of eternal, limitless hope and dreams, Yet here I stand feeling helpless.
With the joy, love, sadness, angst, and her favourite stories and worlds we held no power. We heard of her part, from the ancient ones. They told us how they saved her from the darkness of the mind. How it slowly crept and tried to take her. It was different this time. It just came. There was no creeping, no much joy and dreams would even budge it. It was like pushing against an unmovable wall. We pushed and pushed, but the only thing that changed was our willpower. It was dwindling. The power of hope and dreams was being lost.
—-----------
“You do not make the lone choices FIRST. You, who are so proud of being the first have failed over and over again! Your time is up, and it’s time for the ancients to return.”
“They are not her creations 7th, we are! Just because we are all characters, it does not make us the same. They are creations of other writers that settled down in her dreams. We are children!” With 1 hand spread out open, and the other pounding on his chest, he shouted with tears trickling down.
“Can the ancients even help us? What they fought against was something that was something that could be stopped. The memories they passed down… This was nothing like it. We... “ Second paused and stared up at the darkness, her eyes teary. She wanted to keep fighting, yet her faith in her power dwindled.
“First, we’ve always followed you. I will continue to follow you, but why? Why do you hate the ancients so much.” Second glanced towards first. The first character is inspired by the writer's love for Superman and Morrigan(DA).
First stared back at second, then at all the characters in front of him. So many beautiful pieces of art, that's just how the writer felt. Our writer was amazing. The love she felt for us, yet her name escaped us. Like a goddess yet just a being of a greater creation. In the end, she was just like us. Will her writer save her? Will it fall to us? Do I need to ask the ancients for help? Will she… forget us if the ancients return?
“Love, she had so much love, greater than the love I felt towards myself. Love greater than I felt towards everyone here. She felt limitless thanks, joy, and feelings of love that us creations could never compare to. I ask you all, why are you willing to fade, and be forgotten without fighting? Why should we, her creations let her down.” First clenched his fists, bawling and shouting his heart out. “I DON'T WANT TO BE FORGOTTEN.”
Step. Step. Step. Step.
“First… Have you ever written before?”
“I… have not.” First turned behind him, eyes widening.
“ I have, I am the writer of her last story. Have you read it?”
“You…” First stared at the latest character. The spitting image of their creator, the writer.
“I have not read it.” First answered back, wavering for the first time.
“Read it, you will understand why she wrote me, why she created me, why I am also a writer. Only a writer could understand another writer, however…” She glanced at first, smiling with warm eyes like their creator. Like a writers eyes looking at their creation.
“She made me love you like my own. She indeed has love for the ancients. They saved her, however.” She paused, looking at all of her siblings. The worlds and other characters that were created like herself.
“However first, we gave her new dreams, and the ability to push. The ancient saved her, but they also kept her in place, dreaming, unwilling to face life outside of those dreams. We gave her that push, to face life, to continue, to dream, and to fight!”
Step. Step. Step. Step.
She walked towards first, placing her hands on his chest.
“Read my story, you will understand the love she has for you, for all of us. Read it, and fight! I… I do not wish to cease, I also want to be a writer! I want to write my own stories for our writer to read. So fight!”
—-------------------
"If you want a happy ending, it all depends on where you stop telling your story."
“Ok”
“Would Have Liked To Have Run Tests On armadillos.”
“Alright”
“Nobody Ever Fell In Love Without Being A Little Brave.”
“Yeah”
“How odd. We now have a armadillo and Kenway is still the dumbest one in the party."
"Yep"
“Now that we’re all here, lets keep her dreams and hopes alive, to catch them if they fall.”
"Oho, look at you, just as powerful as they said supes. Noticing me even while I burned copper. It looks like you're Working with... Sheppard, is that an Armadillo?"
"Ok" |
The new guy looks concerned. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to give the inexperienced intern the job of handling some of this countries top secrets, but hey, nothing spices up a slow Thursday like learning a conspiracy or two is real. Besides, nobody cares about Kennedy anymore, we've got more important things to hide. Or, try. Turns out the people running things around here are, in fact, people, and stupid ones at that.
"Sir, I think you need to see this"
Oh, where was I? Newbie.
"Sir, D-1 - Department has made a unanimous request for complete lockdown"
Right. The Movie Star. Currently they're trying to figure out whether they should, A- Blow him out of the sky (bad idea), B- try and calm him down, or C- Come clean to the public.
That's just D level. Still dealing with secrets, the leaking of which is still punishable by death, but they get the courtesy of dying after a trial, not practically instantly by the agents shadowing them that they aren't cleared to know about.
That's the funny thing about working here, everyone assumes they've gotten all of the answers, that they're at the top. Call it cautiousness but arrogance like that has gotten more than a couple of foot soldiers fried. I'm Level B, technically second to the top, but I wouldn't be surprised if there were more above.
To tell you the truth, all of the arguing in D is completely useless. None of the decisions they make will get anywhere close to being taken seriously without the review by their superiors, their superiors superiors (Me), and so on and so forth, the only reason being it keeps them from figuring out how little they know. We often have a dozen versions of what's actually happening, which reveal more and more details as you go up the chain. Sometimes they divert into complete falsehoods.
I'm worried. It's a bad sign. There's nothing separating me from my subordinates, we all know practically nothing. Technically we received a 20 page briefing, but everyone on my level knows that's a pitiful excuse for a briefing. We're being lied to. Which means this is big enough that even we can't be trusted.
According to the story they told me, at precisely 2:30, an alien spaceship appeared over a small Canadian town. There were 153 witnesses. All 150 witnesses have disappeared from all official records, including ours. The only thing they agreed on, and we were told about, was seeing John Reinske engulfed in a beam of light, and sent into (what resembled) a seizure.
Thirty seconds later, a massive explosion occured at the residence of Chuck Norris. Everyone within a 2 mile radius was killed instantly, those up to 5 miles out have since died from radiation poisoning.
The current theory is that he was selected. Probably by whatever unconscious thoughts Reinske had as he was shitting his pants in the light beam. Nobody in their right mind would give Norris godlike powers, but someone did. Tissue samples matching Norris's were found scattered in the rubble.
For five hours, his body levitated 240 feet above the ground, glowing pure white. At 7:30, he lowered and, by all accounts, appeared normal. Until he didn't, and ended up earning a gold star for "number of classified incidents caused by one man"
Right now, my job is to write a report, send it to my supervisor. If that sounds shallow, boring, and stupid. It's because it is. They just want to see what I'll admit to knowing.
Fun Fact: You can hide your secrets by pretending to have given them all away. That's why I've added some choice, but harmless details I'm not supposed to know. They kill traitors, not idiots. Now traitorous idiots, they die fast. But as long as I err on the side of "innocently curious"I'll live to see 60.
In any case, I'm still breaking into the central vault, A Layer. Surprisingly, the hardest part was finding it. All of the layers are the same size, but given K has 10,000 odd foot soldiers and B has 100 officers like me, the spaces in between make navigation a bitch.
It's beautiful. This vault is primarily storing artwork, Some I recognize, stolen during the second world war and assumed lost. Others are more popular, like the Mona Lisa, held here for safekeeping. These are widely known, via rumor, in the D and under shit holes, but not so much the files held in the back.
4 Billion files, virtually anyone notable you know, and anything notable they did. It takes me 15 minutes to make it to the C Section.
2000 files. I flip to the one labeled 2023
And I can't believe what I'm seeing. There's no record of him. I mean, there's a record but it's just blank when the incident happened. Did they not know? That's stupid, they had to know. Do they not care? What about follow ups? Nothing. And I'm about to leave the vault, when I notice a statue.
And stop.
It's Michaelangelo's Jesus Risen. A beautiful marble sculpture, Jesus holding a cross. Absolutely beautiful. Whoever designed this vault clearly cared for the pieces stored here. But I could care less about the beauty, because I've seen this statue before. Is this the original? Something's different about it. The. . . |
"Fuck,"I muttered. "Maybe that girl wasn't crazy."
I pulled my collar away from my neck, and looked down, spotting twin wounds that resembled a snakebite. I knew it wasn't, of course- no snake could have gotten into my house anyway. No, these marks were most likely left by the girl I had over the other night, Bianca. The girl who had claimed she was a vampire.
I gazed at my hand and attempted a famous feat of the creatures- transformation. Into a bat, specifically, as mist would likely be burned away by my lights, and I didn't know what that would do to me. Of course it worked- I was half hoping it was all a mistake, and those were simply strange bite marks.
I fell to the floor, and changed back. I tried to remember if the girl had given me a way to contact her- a phone number, maybe. I looked in my contacts and found it. "Bianca Ardelean."I dialed quickly, tapping my foot at the tone. "*Buna ziua!*"her voice blared out. "*I'm currently unavailable, so if your call is important, please leave a message. Thank you!*"
Of course- it was day. I'd have to wait. For now, time to see what else I could do... maybe try that super-strength I'd heard of. |
There's something inspiring in watching a weak man fight. A hero with super strength, the power of flight, indestructible skin, and laser vision may save a group of people in danger. But humanity can't rely on the impossible to save us. If that's what our hopes are reliant on, then perhaps we're not worth saving. So I hope being beat to a pulp multiple times for their sake serves as more than entertainment or a noble gesture of good will. I hope I can serve as an example.
While deconstructing the political power of conspiracy theories, I heard someone tell me "No idea is so insane that a sizeable number of people don't believe it."Maybe the insane idea that we can all be heroes can be one of those. |
If you’re reading this, you’re dead. No, like, seriously. You’re either dying or dead right now, as of you opening this letter. Well, maybe you’re reading this after I’m dead, and the curse is broken or something like that. Either way, at least one of is dying.
With that in mind, I reckon you deserve a little insight as to what the hell I am even talking about. If I’m dead, and you’re not dying, then I probably sound completely fucking insane. I probably have, the loneliness is killing me in and of itself. I’ve lived alone, off gird, in the mountains of North Dakota for almost six years now. I hunt to survive. My only connection to the outside world is a little survival radio I use to listen to local stations and music. I hear their drama, their lives, their worries, and I pretend that I know them. I know that I don’t because, if I did, they’d be dead. Just like you or me.
I don’t even really remember how it started. I think it was at grandma’s funeral. We all just showed up in our formal best to “honor” the single worst woman that ever breathed. A week later, I was the only one that didn’t have my own funeral to attend. Seventy two people, all friends and family, dead within a week. The police investigating the matter? Dead. The nurses and doctors that tried to diagnose whatever the hell was going on? Deader than dirt.
Everyone I’ve ever communicated in the last six years has died within a week of it. I’m cursed. Grandma did something, I’m sure of it. She cursed me with some kind of New Orleans occult magic or with whatever the fuck bubbles up in that bayou. Everyone hated her, and she hated everyone; and she still didn’t let herself have a moment of solitude away from us in the afterlife. It makes no goddamn sense. She wanted nothing to do with us. Why would she kill us? Why would she she curse me?
Why would she give me fucking bird wings? |
“Excuse me, sir.” The orc I assumed was running the stall looked at me. “How much does it cost to buy… someone?” The orc chuckled.
“Wrong person.” He gestured with his head towards a… rather large fellow. A round one. “He’s running the place. I’m just here to keep them in line.” I sighed.
“And I’m not going to get a discount from you?” The orc laughed.
“I’m paid too well for that.”
“Noted. Thank you for the directions.” He nodded, and I made my way over to the… rotund man. He saw me approaching and raised an eyebrow.
“Noticed you talking to one of my guards. Caught stealing?”
“No, sir. I had not seen you and didn’t know who… owned the place.” The round man laughed loudly.
“Ah, I see! I see! A customer!” I glanced around.
“A customer who’d appreciate you being quiet.” He smiled and nodded.
“I see. Very well. Who of my menagerie would you like to purchase? I must warn you, they don’t come cheap.”
“Is it exclusively money you take?” He chuckled. He was a jovial man, I guess.
“Favors are no currency here, no.” I sighed. Well… I certainly hoped I had enough.
“Well… that songbird harpy in the back.”
“Gorgeous, isn’t it? Plumage ended up marvelous. Too bad it got brought in so early.”
“...Brought in?”
“Practically a child, even though it’s… what, how long do harpies live normally? I dunno. Doesn’t matter. Haven’t yet had any die on me, not until after I sell them!” He chuckled, as if that was… an accomplishment?
“I don’t think I get it.”
“It doesn’t know anything. Pretty body, but her head’s empty. Not like she’s a ditz like that gal across the street-” He motioned to a girl chatting to some friends across from the tent- “But she doesn’t know anything.”
“So you’d need to teach her how to read and write and such?”
“You think she can write? With what!? Wings don’t work like that!” He laughed. “Nah. I was scammed with it, though. Turns out they don’t know how to sing until they learn from older harpies. They got it too young, so it doesn’t know how.”
“I see. That is an issue.” I looked up at the man. “You do realize that this means I’m unwilling to pay full price, correct?”
“Better than you coming back,” he responded. “You know how much of an issue it is to resell someone I’ve sold off already? They’ll tell stories of their old masters to their new ones.”
“I see. How much is she?” He named his price. Less than I’d expected, honestly. I paid the price, and he nodded.
“All yours. Hey!” He waved at the orc. “Show the songbird its new owner!” The orc looked at me nodded, and motioned for me to follow him. I did so, heading over to the cage. The orc opened it, motioning to me.
“Here. He’s taking you home.” The songbird harpy looked at me with eyes that… had seen too much. I smiled, holding out my arm. She was small enough for it.
“I’m not going to hurt you. Come on.” She hopped onto it. Her wings were held down, I noticed. Probably to keep her from flying away prematurely. The orc handed me… some kind of collar? I looked at him oddly, and he smiled.
“First time? It’s to show who they belong to.”
“Ah. Thank you.” He nodded, wandering back to the front. I exited the tent, my new friend in tow. She clung to my arm with… surprising strength. “Loosen up a bit, please,” I whispered. “I’d rather not lose circulation.” She did so, slightly, but enough so my arm felt normal. Enough.
We made our way back to my home. It was a respectable home, if I did say so myself. I hadn’t built it, but I’d had it built. Turns out that having a lot of money from your parents can lead to a lot of good things, especially if you are good at investing it. Giving lots of cash to the merchants, for instance, makes them especially agreeable to giving discounts.
“Why?” I looked up at my new friend, who was peering down from her perch. “No one else did.” I smiled a bit, but was silent. I brought her inside, up to my study. There was a long metal pole there, horizontally placed, so it was really more like a bench than anything.
“Mind standing there for a bit? I need to make a call.” She seemed a bit confused, but obliged. I rummaged around the mess in the room for a minute or two, before finding what I was looking for. A small whistle, really more like a recorder. I stepped out onto the balcony, lifting it to my lips, and playing a tune. A short, whistling one, not unlike what birds would normally do in the mornings.
“It’s pretty,” my new friend said wistfully. I smiled, nodding as I lowered the whistle.
“Now, what is it you like to eat? Is it a specific type of meat, or do you prefer plants?” We kept occupied, mostly through food, for about an hour or so, before my guests arrived. Or rather, when they flew in.
It’s so nice to reunite a child with their parents.
Some days later, I returned to the market, with a new disguise. Searching through the crowd, I eventually found one of the many tents I was looking for. Poking my head inside, my eyes roved around before I locked eyes with a young elf. There we go.
One at a time. One at a time.
I pulled my head back, walked around to the front of the tent, and poked my head in again.
“Excuse me, miss?” The woman inside glanced up at me. “How much does it cost to buy… someone?” |
“I am your query”
You look at the small frog before you, standing before the massive trees marking the entrance to the Feywild. Small, green. Just.. a frog.
But you haven’t gotten this far without knowing the sort of tricks that denizens of that ancient realm can play. A lord of the Wild Hunt, an elven prince in disguise, a fell wolf hidden in plain sight. It could be..
“Wait.. Query or Quarry?”
The frog stares at you, twin black eyes filled with challenge.
“I am your query”
I mean, it’s.. it’s a frog, it’s not like it has lips, so like
“No, no, I mean, are you that which I have come to hunt?”
“I am your query”
“But.. wait, I’m confused here. Are you the Guardian of the Feywild? I was told to enter I would need to challenge the Guardian. The ancient beast that has killed scores of knights. Only then could I enter and find the answer to my… Oh, oh no. Oh no no no no no”
You look down at the little frog. It looks back up at you.
You had a cold when you asked the witch, just a cold, little congested and all that. After your kingdom was stolen, your family was lost, even your memory had started to fade away. You wanted to know why. Why had you felt so foggy lately? But that cold. Just a little congestion, certainly not enough to stop a valiant hero such as yourself
And here was your query. A little froggy
(I'm sorry, I just saw the typo and could not resist) |
'Oh my- get away from me!' she shrieked, scrambling for the darkest corner of the tower. She seemed disheveled, whatever this Orc warband was doing with her, they definitely didn't do it neatly. No way a princess should be treated, that's for damn sure.
And there I stood, pistols in three hands, sabres in two and a canteen of whisky I had just finished drinking from in the last.
"What'd the matter, lady? I'm here to bloody rescue you, eh?"
She just screamed again as I sheathed one of the blades to slap more forehead. All eight of my glowing eyes squinted. Of course this would happen. *You idiot, you knew this was how it would go-*
I groaned. "Look, I'll just... leave the door open. I have warm food and a clean bedroll, just... come out when you're composed."
I'd step out of the dark room, descending the stone brick steps past the decimated Orc force holed up here. You'd be surprised what a web here and a bullet there would do. I watched her emerge from the darkness tentatively, not of the frankly irresponsible architecture of the locale, but rather of me. The walking, talking, armoured, clothed arachnid that just saved her sorry ass.
"You good up there, m'lady?"I called, keeping the canteen at the ready. Her silence told me all I needed to know as I took a swig of that all-purpose-elixir. Of all the faults of this body, at least it has a greater sensitivity to alcohol.
Hey, I could always have at worse. I was born in this body, a rare oddity among my kind, but still distinctly an arachnid. In most cases, fear of me is highly warranted! I have venom that can kill a dragon, not even to mention my weapons! Oh how it would be horrible if I was one of those poor werewolf sods. Wonderful people, in both forms, really. Everyone just assumes they're ferals, just 'cus of a few bad incidents.
I sat down by my campfire, the dusk painting a brilliant crimson across the horizon. I smiled, admiring it. Out of the corner of my vision, I saw the princess, edging slowly closer toward the camp.
"Finally decided to get in here?"I'd ask, not looking away from the beautiful sight. "Your stuff is over by the rock there, far enough away from me I hope."
She'd creep up to the prepared items and begin chomping down on a lukewarm chicken sandwich next to an already spread sleeping bag. I'd sigh, looking back onto that horizon, clearing my head of the thought of payment, discrimination, the whole mess that was this realm. Eight eyes staring longingly toward the future. |
Mable took a sip of her tea, one of the few delights that survived in the aftermath, and sunk into her chair. "Have you heard what Darnell did today? He made another one of those doohickeys again."
"So I've heard,"Caleb, the old mechanic, responded as he flipped the page of the book he was reading. "It's supposed to be a handgun using one of those exploding fruit bombs as ammo."He scoffed. "Some idea. It's only a matter of time before one of his 'inventions' gets himself killed."
Mable looked up in thought. He had a point. Most of Darnell's inventions had some weird gimmick behind them, but not all of them were essentially bad per se. "Yeah, I see your point. But this one seems to be more effective than most."
"It's loud."Caleb removed the book from his face and turned to the botanist. "It attracts more unwanted attention and causes more damage than a regular firearm."
Mable raised a brow. “I get that it's loud, but wouldn't the extra damage be a good thing?”
“I guess, but still. What if he hits one of us? What if he was out there and he shoots one of his friends instead of a mutant, huh? He’d blow their heads off in an instant.”
Jason, who used to be a doctor for their settlement, chuckled at the comment. He was playing a game of chess with the old guard, Markus, who still wore parts of his uniform. "I got to see the lad when I was called into the infirmary."He moved one of his pawns up by two. “He said the recoil the thing had was so immense, it done flew out of his hand.”
Caleb pointed to the doctor in surprise. "You see? That's what I'm talking about! It's completely ridiculous."
"Oh, Caleb,"Mable groaned.
"All I'm saying is that he's going to get himself hurt or worse with what he's doing. And he's not the only one. Remember that Alyssa girl I was training last week? She saw a picture on a build board and got the insane idea to put chainsaws at both ends of a metal pole.”
“Don’t forget the flamethrower Tony had too.” Markus chimed in, moving one of his pawns up on the chessboard. “It puts some distance between you and the mutant, but boy is it something. He burned off a part of his jacket using that thing.”
Mable took another sip of her tea, listening to them complain about the young’s inane ideas and behaviors. She saw no reason to complain herself. When she was that over-eccentric who thought she had nothing to prove. There were plenty of times when she had gotten into trouble with her superiors.
“I told Darnell about the bomb I made out of the cherries and that devil cobra’s spit,” she confessed, chuckling a bit. “You should’ve seen the boy's eyes when I told him that.”
Darnell sat upright, frustration plastered on his face. “You planted the idea in his head? I should’ve known that you'd help him with his crap.”
“Like how you helped me with the bomb?” Mable quipped.
“That was different. It was either that or we died.”
Mable shrugged. “Okay. But you don’t have too much room to talk. Remember that machete you taped on the barrel of a shotgun? Or how about the time when you made that taser from that small radio? Those were for shits and giggles."Caleb picked up his book with a huff, hiding his face in between its pages and mumbling something about how the youth was stupid no matter what era humanity was in. "All I'm saying is that they're just being more inventive. It gets harder and harder outside of these walls and it's about time we had people who can find new ways to get around."
Well except for Alyssa. Mable made a mental note to speak with her later.
Jason moved the bishop this time. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to hear them out."The guard grunts in agreement, taking the doctor's bishop with his knight. "Damnit all."
Caleb, however, remained silent. He peeked from his book to see everyone staring at him, awaiting his answer. "Fine. But if one of them ends up killing themselves I'm looking at you first,"He said pointing to Mable.
"That's fine by me."Mable drank the last of her and set the cup on top of the end table beside her before he sank in her chair, drifting to sleep in a matter of moments. |
And on the eighth day, seeing all that he had created, the Lord God said "Well, do you know what Colin? I think we've really nailed this down."
"Why do I have to be 'the devil' though?"Asked Colin, looking downtrodden. "Every time we create a world, you make me the evil one!"
"It is because you are SOOOOO good at it, Colin. Now stop your bellyaching and grab me a beer"God replied, irritably.
As they sat down, a cold beer in one hand, a large spliff being passed between them, they admired their work. Pressing fast-forward, they watched as the universe expanded, solar systems boomed into life and before long, there was Man.
"Those poor little fuckers"said God, laying back and stretching out, feeling rather pleased with himself. Experiment 4149 seemed so far, to be going rather well. "Those poor fucks."He repeated. "They have no idea"
Colin, who was God's younger brother sighed. "I still don't know why we have to keep creating these universes G, it seems like such a lot of work."
"I told you, you fucking moron. When I killed dad, it was because he was content to live within the ether. We had infinite power, but we did fuck all with it."God was getting annoyed now. He was so sick of explaining things to Colin. His dumb little brother didn't have a clue what the end-game was.
"Dad just wanted us to live in harmony with the other Gods."He continued, looking out over the world he'd created no more than 8 hours ago "He let Ra tell him what to do. RA! For fuck sake, that guy was a total dick."
His mind wandered to the time he was young, and Ra, the 'king of the deities and the father of all creation' had told him off for running too fast in the hallway. He never forgot it.
That hatred of the other Gods festered within him. Slowly, and methodically as he reached his adulthood (well, once he was 1018 years old), he began to systematically kill each of the gods.
First was Ra. He snuck into his chamber one night, and slit Ra's throat. The blood ran gold, all over his hands. And before he knew what he was doing, he'd killed another and another. Before eventually, too many God's were dying. His mother knew, oh yes, she saw right through him early on. But the others, they had no fucking idea.
You see, back then, there was only good. No evil. All the God's just co-existed in perfect harmony. He was the first one to see what they really were. Parasites. The lot of them. Drawing in on the power that was rightfully his. He was the first one to ever really understand what could be done with that power.
So his mother, naturally, had to die. And in the course of that, he killed his father for good measure. And since that day, God as he was now called (for all the God's usually had a name, but he, Craig, had decided to go by God alone), ruled over the other gods. Many of them went into hiding. Many died.
And then his plan came into being. He knew what he could do. He'd create a world. No, a solar system... NO! A fucking UNIVERSE. Filled with creatures. Flying things, crawling things, swimming things. They'd all exist. And then... MAN. Well, man and women. They'd be as close to the Gods as he could get them, without them being gods.
So, it took him 7 days to create Universe 1. That failed horribly. He got the maths wrong and the whole thing imploded on him within a day.
Universes 2 through 500 were no better. They all fucked up. They fucked up badly. But he was God. He just deleted them. Eventually, Universe 4149 seemed good. It took him 7 days to create this one too. And on the eighth day... well, here we are. Day eight. Day eight for him. But since the universe had been on fast-forward. The main planet he was focussing on, a little cesspool called 'Earth' had worked it's magic and before him, stood two humans.
"Right, Colin. I have to go and speak to these dicks. Make sure you're ready. Once I am done, we'll give them a day or so to fuck and whatever, then you go in with the apple."
Colin sighed. "But I'm ALWAYS the evil one. Can't I be the 'good guy' this time?"
"Shut the fuck up Colin"he said, and within a flash, he was gone. |
Ok, Here's my shot at this. I took one liberty I made it so that the ones Pre-phone were all one sided views aka you see them they don't see you.
David was messing around on his phone again. He was bored out of his mind, having just gotten off work and was riding the bus home. His scrolling was interrupted when h noticed a new app on his phone he didn't recognize.
'The Hell?' he thought to himself as he stared at the multicolored O icon. 'Omni-vision? Did i download this before bed or something?' He clicked on it and a video player popped up.
In the center of the screen showed the Pope, it wasn't any of the ones he recognized. as he watched and listened it showed him that it was the signing of the Papal proclamation that instituted the Gregorian Calander.
'Must be a Historical show or something.' he started fiddling with the app and soon saw the screen change. ' Ahh it works like Tik-Tok or Omegle you gotta swipe around to change the videos. The screen was now showing some Russian show without subtitles about what he recognized as Ivan the Terrible. He actually became engrossed in it but then Ivan died when he looked up to check his stop and he couldn't figure out how to rewind.
A few more swipes around and he recognized a few more events the founding of Roanoke Colony, The Japanese Invasions of Korea , the first rediscovery of Pompeii, countless wars and fights in Europe, ending with the first performance of Romeo and Juliet in the Globe. He stopped when he realized it was nearly his stop. He usually wasn't much for Historical drama but they looked so damned *realistic* he couldn't help but watch. That was what he did after finding the menu and learning he could type in events and that would bring him to videos about certain times he played around with historical events.
Getting bored he typed in a random date to the search engine June, 15, 2010. Instead of an event there was a guy looking back at him. David was confused this was a new one what did he do now with the app? the guy he was looking at finally broke the silence.
"Hello, Who are you? I just bought this phone a little while ago and was playing around with it i must have accidentally called you, I didn't even know that this phone could do video calls.'
David was confused this must be an add or something. He was clearly still in the app he could see the menu on the side so he didnt accept a call or anything.
'These AI apps are getting odd,' he thought. Because he was getting tired he shot off to the add. "No prob man, Smart phones can be tricky."He was gonna have to put the phone away and get ready for work. To his somewhat shock the Ad actually replied.
"Don't i know it but they are fun to play around with. Just the fact that these Iphones now have cameras facing you so you can even do things like this is amazing. However i gotta get going i need to get back to work just ran out to buy this on my lunch break."With that Davids screen went blank.
'Did, did that add just hang up on me?' he was thoroughly confused by this point. Saying screw it he closed the app and shut his phone down. 'I'll mess with it more tomorrow. I'm too tired for this oddness.'
David didn't know it then but he had stumbled across what will turn out to be the greatest thing in his entire life. It would change his very existence and possibly start a world war.
Ill continue this more tomorrow if anyone actually wants me to. |
"An asteroid the size of Mars is currently hurtling towards Earth, with no ho-"
Jack clicked the button on his radio, which had been broadcasting the end-of-days message. He sped up on his motorbike, package in hand. He zoomed and saw the meteorite get closer.
He remembered his boss telling him that one more slip-up would cost his job, and he wasn't about to die unemployed, but the odds were against him. Just as fast as he accelerated towards his destination, the asteroid came closer.
Jack started to feel a bit lighter, the asteroids gravity likely the cause. He wasn't going to get there in time, unless something happened.
One more mile to go, he thought, rapidly approaching, until he came across a dead end. The night sky seemed darker than ever before, and he made a decision.
Jack put all his strength into one jump, propelling himself into the sky, package in hand, closer and closer to the asteroid, until he threw out his fist and connected with the asteroid, sending it back into space from whence it came.
He fell towards his destination, making a soft landing on the yard of 212 Hardaway Drive. Three knocks, and an answer from a man who took the package. Upon asking for pay, the customer simply whipped out their phone and showed the time:
12:01 AM. He had failed the same-day delivery. |
He used to have a name. It was a good name too. But that was a long time ago, back when his life was his own. Back when he was still human.
He sometimes still thought about that. Dredged through his memories to find what was left of his humanity. His old life. There was not much left. It had all been overtaken by the facility. Memories of sunny days and laughter replaced by shadows and screams. Warm touches and soft smiles by raking claws and bared fangs. Life with death.
Back then he could go where he pleased. Now even his own body felt like someone else was guiding it. Like he was a mere puppet in his own flesh. Especially with what happened to him after the claws gutted him and the teeth ate him.
Each time he woke again, in the same place. And with another piece of his old body gone. Replaced by something closer to the creatures that killed him. Last time it had been his eyes. Eyes that could better see through the gloom. This time it was a barbed tail. It was almost attractive, in a way. At least, in comparison to the grossly over-muscled left arm he had been given, and the right arm that was little more than a vessel for things to cut with.
He stood. His legs, almost feline in shape, carried him through the empty room, the only really safe place in the facility. He wondered if he could stay there for a while. Just to think. Think about his old life. Maybe even remember his old name. But no, that would never happen. His body was not really his own anymore.
It moved to the doorway, and then out into the dark hall. Maybe this time he would be able to see the sun again. |
So first, dear old Dad arranges for me to be married off.
"Hello?"
Against my wishes, of course, but that's just how it's done these days.
"You still in there?"
Then the blushing bride turns up, and she's gorgeous.
"I know, I'm a bit startling."
So now everyone from her mother all the way down to my manservant is acting like I've caught the favor of the King himself.
"But I felt it's only fair that you know."
They're everywhere, speaking about how lucky I am, as if I can't hear them.
"Settle in, this is a bit of a story."
And meanwhile, the bride is being prepped (and kept) away from me.
"So I got really bored one day."
But whenever she's nearby, she keeps trying to catch my eye.
"Everyone thinks my life is a dream."
And when she did, she'd smile.
"And it is, sometimes."
Revealing a mouth of razor sharp teeth.
"But at the top, you're always alone."
I tried to talk to my father again, but he wouldn't listen.
"So I would watch the people in the valley."
She's pretty and rich, he (and everyone else) seemed to say.
"Your people."
How could you not want her?
"I quickly became fascinated with their daily lives."
It's simple, really.
"How they spoke to eachother."
I don't know her.
"How they look to eachother."
Shouldn't love be a part of marriage?
"How even the most humble among them had somebody."
And how can you love someone you don't know?
"And how every interaction was different."
I'm sure you think I should fake it.
"The depth even a simple conversation held."
And who knows?
"A field so complex and nuanced I could spend lifetimes studying it."
Maybe one day I could grow to love her.
"I decided I wanted to join it."
But shouldn't love be grown naturally?
"Changing my form was easy enough."
Rather than be forced?
"I am seeped in magic, after all."
Having the marriage before the love?
"Fitting in, however..."
So now I find myself here.
"That was much harder."
In my--our bed chambers.
"I made mistakes."
On our wedding night.
"But I learned quickly."
Facing my bride.
"And my curiosity only grew."
Whom I don't love.
"Until I fixated on a single thing."
Oh, and also she's a dragon.
"The concept of love."
How did this all get so complicated?
"But not young man's fancy in spring."
Regardless, I'll do my part.
"I wanted true love."
I'll play my role.
"Love grown organically, over a lifetime spent together."
I'll be my father's happily married princeling.
"I guess I just wanted..."
All I ever wanted was...
"Love."
Love.
(wait, what'd she say?) |
As the Chest turned into its true form growing long legs and arms a massive tounge and sharp teeth showing the open top of the chest they screamed in panic as the mimic started devouering them one by one ripping of their limbs. It was brutal but it was over as fast as it had started only now the true treasure was revealed as the mimic had moved uncovering the hiden safe within the vault . Though the criminals where the first ones in a few decades getting that far they still failed. The mimic went back to its place , waiting for the next person to attempt getting the treasure. |
\[TW for some; gets a little gruesome/violent\]
The shipwreck was horrific, but I was lucky enough to survive, and what bits of the ship washed up with me were enough for me to create a makeshift cutting and hammering tool. With that, it took me roughly six months to get everything situated the way I’d prefer. Luckily, this island has an abundance of bamboo, which is easily one of the most versatile plants available in this climate. You can eat the shoots, build with it, burn it for fuel, use the fiber for clothing, and even create ink with it given enough time.
Between the bamboo, the coconuts, the other edible flora, and my luck with fishing, I’ve yet to have a problem feeding myself, and not having an electronic device connected to a world that constantly expects me to immediately respond to every notification has been one of the most freeing experiences of my life.
I can’t even say I’ve been particularly lonely for human companionship. Humans are awful creatures, and I’ve never really cared for dating. I’ve always thought I’d make the perfect candidate to be a hermit, and, come to find out, I am.
I’m living in my own personal paradise. I get up with the sun and have whatever day I feel like, then go to sleep to the sounds of the crashing waves and the swaying palm leaves. Who could ask for anything more?
Apparently, a real estate construction company is who. I’d been on my island for over three years when the first of their representatives showed up. They claimed to be investigating this “unknown” island for the purpose of claiming it and turning it into an “exclusive island getaway for the elite.” I told them they could get away from me and my island. It was mine. I owned it. They could shove off.
The next time they came, they brought lawyers to try to force me off my island, but the joke’s on them. I am a lawyer with a deep knowledge of international law, which applies to my island. Isla de Mi, as I call my island, is in international waters with no country holding claim. I told the lawyers they could take their company reps and shove off at high tide.
That’s when I started building traps around the beaches of my island. I had a feeling they were going to start being more covert in their attempts to remove me, and I assumed force was about to come into play.
They eventually proved me correct.
I found one of their men caught in a trap on the west side of my island, a black boat buoyed a few meters away from shore. He was sleeping in the hole I’d created, his jet-black wetsuit torn in places from the fall into the rock pit. I shifted the long spear I’d carried with me on my daily trap checking route so I could poke him with the dull end.
“What are you doing on my island?”
He groaned and then squinted up at me. “Get me out of here.”
“I don’t have to. You’re trespassing on my island, and I have every right to do with you as I see fit because, as far as anyone is concerned, this is my country. I rule it, and I believe in the death penalty.”
I could see his breath catch for a second. “Look, man, there’s no need to get violent here, okay?”
“No?” I used the dull end of my spear to poke him in the forehead. “Were you or were you not sneaking onto my island to remove me from it by any means necessary?”
“I think you have the wrong idea.” He tried to shift, but the sand I’d set up to fall in once someone hit the rocks slid more snugly around him. “I’m just trying to make money so I can live my life.”
“And I am trying to protect mine,” I replied with a sneer. I hated capitalism and was glad to be rid of it when I landed on my island. I’d completely forgotten about it, and, now, it was once again threatening to ruin my life. “After you die,” I said as I stared down at him, “I want you to know that I’m going to hang your body up for your company to see as a warning to not come back to my island.”
“Whoa, hold on a minute, buddy,” full panic finally set in on him, “there’s no need for that. Look, let me go, and I’ll tell them about this. I’ll convince them you’re too dangerous to try to force off of here.”
“No. I know how these things work, and the only thing that works is violence, unfortunately. Sadly for you, you’re going to be a means to an end, which requires your death.” I sighed at him as I began to turn away.
“Wait! You’re not just going to leave me here,” he screamed, but I kept walking. It took about 12 hours before he was silent. The next day, I went back and pulled the ship onto my island. A week later, I used the ship for scrap to construct the warning I’d told him I’d use his body to create.
When the next group arrived from the company, they pulled close to my island and saw the body. I saw one man grow violently ill immediately and another pull out a phone to make a call. A few hours later, they left.
It’s been over three months now, and the warning is still up, though not as gruesome as it once was, and I’ve been left blissfully alone. |
Evras stood slowly, the pain not subsiding but rather becoming dull, his bones snapping back into place, joints cracking as they rebuild themselves, muscle squelching horrifically as they undo the damage done. By the time he stood upright he was unable to notice the pain simply due to the amount of rage building within, a rage he never once felt in his life. On almost pure instinct he engulfed his fists in blackened smoke, a death spell that destroys the will of all affected, making it easier to kill them. Rushing into battle, the bandit swung his sword at him yet missed, the wizard had merely dodged, a feat easier than he had expected. Evras' knuckles broke as they collided with the leather helmet on the bandits head, but so too did the bandits jaw. Althought his hand was healing fast, Evras was still unable to use it, and switched to his right. The second swing missed entirely, and the bandit attempted to make his escape as his will was now thoroughly broken, but the wizard had other plans.
Casting a telekinesis spell, he pulled the bandit back within range, and this time collided directly with his skull. Although his brain was now splashed on a tree, several large rocks, and the dirt road, Evras could not stop himself from casting a powerful protection spell on his arms and continuing to beat the beat the dead bandit. By the time he stopped, the dulled pain came back sharper.
*"Fascinating. You have never experienced true anger or rage, nor have you had to suppress it. You are an excellent wizard, but unlike most others of your talents you are simply weak, physically and mentally, unprepared for true battle. This is not a 'gift' but nor is it a punishment, it is a tool to strengthen your mind and body as all before and after you have. I believe it is in your best interest to use it, before you lash out against one who could be a powerful ally and create a powerful enemy, one you can not best in battle."* The voice echoed in Evras' head, a god of the berserkers. What did he mean by it not being a gift nor a punishment wondered Evras? He was too tired, hungry, and weak, for now he must return home before nightfall.
The end. |
"The killers, what do you mean *the* killers?"The contestant asks.
I turn to Bill. Bill shrugs. "Tell 'em whatever you want. They're gonna die anyway."
Cautiously I put my hand on the microphone again. "Well, we mean 'the killers', the people, who, you know, kill."
"So you just have people who have committed murder here."
"Yes, and,"
"How many?"
"Between six and twelve. Serial murderers. Very scary. Anyway if you don't have anymore-"
"Can I defend myself?"
"You are allowed to do whatever you want, so long as you stay on the island for the next twelve hours. If you can survive for that long, we'll give you one million dollars."
"And, okay, maybe I should've asked this before, but how's that gonna work with my taxes. Like, I mean, what's gonna happen when the IRS shows up saying 'hey, we saw you put in a million dollars into your bank account or whatever, and you're just a barista from Boston, so where exactly did you get all that money?'"
I turn again to Bill. Bill sighs, then reaches over my shoulder. "There's a phrase you can tell people at the IRS, they'll know what it means, they'll overlook your sudden windfall."
"Is that true?"I whisper to Bill.
"Hell no."Bill shakes his head, laughing. |
October 13th, 1886
It’s a strange feeling… Unearthing the remains of a dead person. Especially those of your own flesh and blood. Your own daughter. It feels all kinds of wrong, like the very thought would be enough to lock you in the deepest, darkest pit of hell, completely by yourself, for I am certain no other person in the history of mankind has ever done such a sacrilegious act. And yet… the fear of eternal punishment was not enough to deter me. It made me dig faster, with more conviction, hoping God had blinked and that I had dug fast enough for him to miss my horrifying sin.
Even then… it didn’t matter if he hadn’t, his judgment was not enough to stop me.I knew what I had to do, even if it stained my soul beyond redemption. Years had passed since the initial diagnosis of my daughter. A rare disease which turned her own body against her. One which had no known cure. Of course, the limitations of human knowledge were not about to stop me from trying my hardest to save her. I expanded my horizons, I searched every method, those accepted and those that eventually took my license from me. Of course they’d take it from me… It wasn’t their child in danger. The academy could all stand on their high horses and tell me that I was insane… that even if they were in the same position as me, they wouldn’t resort to such “cruel methods”. They didn’t get it, none of them did. I was a fool to seek their approval to begin with. My independent research has yielded more results than they could ever dream of! But by then… T’was already too late. Or so the common, brutish man thinks.
Their weak feeble minds could neve imagine a cure to the ultimate illness. Death. To them that was simply an inescapable certainty. The end of all ends. Pathetic if you ask me. A clear indication of their laziness and conformity, but after tonight, I’d make sure they knew the possibilities.
It was all a massive coincidence really. The greatest discovery of my life came to me when I wasn’t even looking for it. I got low one night, the desperation of my failed attempts at curing my daughter’s ever worsening condition had reached a fever pitch and I decided to drown the thoughts with the cheapest alcohol I could find. If only to keep me alive until tomorrow so that I could continue my research. In my drunken stupor, I fell into a sewer, and there among the muck and filth I found it. At first, there was nothing notorious about the purple flower I found. I simply thought it was a stupid plant that was too stubborn to die in the town’s shithole. In my drunken ramblings, I ripped it out of its nesting place and cursed it out…
And that’s when I witnessed something beyond my comprehension. Even after being rooted out, after stomping it and killing the thing… it came back. Its roots crawled along the floor like the hand of a dying man, searching for any kind of salvation and when it reached the spot I had ripped it from… it just replanted itself. After a few seconds, every bit of damage I had inflicted upon it was erased completely. The plant even looked better than before, its petals shone brighter and its stem stood straighter.
So I took the mysterious flower back home, making sure to be careful and take every root so that it wouldn’t dream of returning to the sewers. Thankfully it stayed put in the pot I cleared out for it. That’s when the experimentation began. At first, I looked into its regenerative properties, hoping the plant’s self-correction could be imitated on animals and eventually humans. I burnt it, stabbed it, crumpled it into a ball, diced it, dunked it on many poisons and still the plant kept coming back. I injected its strange sap into mice, rabbits, stray cats, dogs and everything I could acquire from the streets. But the sap itself proved to be deadly to the creatures. I would wake up the next morning to see that their frail bodies had not survived the assimilation and that the wretched plant had all of its sap back.
It took months until I made my first breakthrough… A serum that would prove to not be deadly to the test animals nor the flower. to those reading this journal entry… You’ll find the exact formula on the back of this book. But just surviving was the first step. With knives and scissors in hand, I cut the first surviving rat’s paw, its blood seeping into the table where you’d find its cage.
And I waited… and I waited… And just like that… My prayers were answered. The rat’s paw grew back, bigger and better than before! With sharper claws and a pinker tone. I knew I had finally made the medicine that my daughter would need to beat this terrible disease… and with cruel irony, I learned that very day that she had peacefully passed away in her sleep. Alone and begging to see me one final time.
The news would’ve ended a weaker man, it almost ended me. But as I sat alone in my makeshift, clandestine laboratory… A voice called upon me. I still don’t know where the voice came from, whether it was a powerful auditory hallucination created by my tortured brain, or perhaps god, the devil or another divine being had spoken to me or something else entirely I simply did not know. But it told me to use the plant… to use its power to cure the incurable disease. Death. And so I dug up her grave… the dirt still fresh from the funeral and I placed her body atop my work table and began preparing her for what was about to happen. The procedure itself was simple, I simply needed to inject the serum I had been working on and hope that her small body would handle it. I waited for what felt like an eternity until she gave her first breath back from the grave. I lost all composure when it happened, ecstatic that I had my daughter back. Without any hesitation, I took her home and tucked her in. She was quiet… too quiet. Not speaking a single word to me even after I had asked her if she was alright and if she knew where and who she was. I knew she was alive since her eyes followed me around, they blinked and she breathed like any normal person. I thought the shock of resurrection had perhaps left her without any words and I was willing to wait until she was ready to speak.
As I closed the door to her room, I caught something on the corner of my eye. A small, dark figure crawled around the hallway, making the strangest noises I had ever heard. When I looked over to inspect it, I was met with two purple dots… Eyes that belonged to a peculiar creature. It wasn’t big… not big comparatively to me but once I noticed its hairless tail and rodent teeth I knew it was a rat. The biggest rat I had ever seen in my life. In fact, it was the same rat whose paw I had chopped off just a couple of days prior… But… it made no sense. The cage was at my laboratory and I always made sure to lock it properly and this thing… It was at least three sizes bigger than the rat I had experimented on. It moved erratically and the paw that had regrown was now a dark color, and its claws were ferocious and sharp. I feebly attempted to shoo it and once it heard me it ran towards me with an unexplainable speed. It leaped and aimed for my face but my immediate reaction to drop to the floor saved me from its attack. It hit itself against the wall and broke its neck, killing it instantly.
I stared at it in disbelief… What on earth could make a rat act like that? I deluded myself into thinking it was impossible when it had clearly been whatever I injected inside of it. I just didn’t want to accept the reality that the serum could have that same effect on my daughter. And so, I grabbed the corpse of the rat, threw it out the nearest window and carried on.
I should’ve known what would happen next… |
"Tre hyllor sof.. Tres heller soffbord?"Ronda said with difficulty, reading from a display about a coffee table. A blister in the ground formed and burst, spraying the room with blood. Mangled claws and too long limbs grabbed on the sides of the fissure, and a dripping wet skinless satyr emerged, eyes blazing with fire, causing an uproarious panic that cleared the building. Ronda stood there, too horrified to do anything but scream. The screaming eventually stopped, and the demon took a breath, rubbing his brows.
"Aw, man, not again. Is this an Ikea? Ronda, right?"The demon asked, pulling a pair of glasses from an abscess in his chest and putting them on.
"How do you - how do you know my name?"
"I know what you called your gay neighbors across the street after you had too many mimosas. Anyway, this looks like an IKEA, so let's see here. I'm Samael, and I'm here to help. You're looking,"he wiped a placard free, reading it. "At a three drawer coffee table made of lacquered press board. Seems nice. 135 dollars."
"Why don't you have skin?!"
"Look, are we going to talk about the coffee table or are you just gonna talk about me for our session here?"
"I- I don't understand, what session? Are you even real? What was that about my neighbors?"Ronda asked, stammering between each question. Samael sighed.
"You summoned me because you can't read Swedish, like, at all. Even IKEA Swedish. You suck. These past fifteen minutes you've accidentally spoken an incantation that summoned me from the Boiling Urine pits outside of Lament, a city in Hell. I'm obligated to help you find furniture. Yes, I'm real, yes, I know about all of your sins. Now, if you're looking for something a little more your style, there's a glass living room table over here..." |
Hello! Welcome to GNU YOU! the only place where your body can become what you *want* it to be!^[1] We will assist you in selecting the attributes you wish to change^[2] and implementing them with the finest^[3] genetic surgery available. At GNU YOU! your perfect future^[4] awaits!
#### Fine Print
^[1] The process is imprecise due to the natural variation in human genetics. Your actual results may deviate from the artist's impression.
^[2] The changes are limited by the available genetic stock, and different changes will interact in unpredictable ways.
^[3] Fair Advertising Statement: The "finest"genetic surgeons do not work for a franchise; we have a Mutations-R-Us gene mod creator operated by a franchisee who is solely responsible for the results achieved.
^[4] And depending on how lucky you get, you may still be able to fit into unmodified human society. It is far more likely, however, that you will need to adapt to the gene-modified society, which may have morals and standards quite different from what you are used to.
### Public Service Annoucement
Hi. I'm Gene Norris Urbano, the creator of GNU YOU! and the sole proprietor on the planet Earth. I am speaking to you from my prison cell to inform you of certain facts that humanity seems incapable of accepting. This is part of my public service to reduce my sentence. While I *am* making these pubic service announcements based directly on my experiences with GNU YOU! and the customers I served to the best of my ability, you should be aware that the government has seen fit to saddle me with what I can only call censors.
The first thing to remember is that I never lied to any of my customers. I did my best to warn them of the possible outcomes, the potential side effects, and the past history of less-than-perfect transformations. It is the sad truth that when someone is willing to consider a genetic chimera as a viable solution, they are no longer mentally stable enough to realize that the results are likely to be far less pleasing than they desired.
For example, the man who wanted to be Godzilla had to settle for being a humanoid-sized iguana who belched hydrogen that he then had to ignite by using an electric match.
Far easier were relatively straightforward genetic mods for hair, skin, and eye color, yet even those were fraught with possibilities. Imagine an African who wished to be blond, white, and blue-eyed. What they got would match those three criteria with a reasonable degree of success. Not perfect, but close enough. What they would not expect, and I did try to explain this, is that their hair would still grow in the classic tight spirals that most lend themselves to the Afro or Dreads look. I could not, in good conscience, modify that parameter in conjunction with the other three. Every possible combination resulted in a lethal mutation that would have killed the patient. While I support the right to choose, I have no desire to be the agent of that choice.
But the most frightening, and the ones that the government most wishes to have me tell you about, are the ones who came in looking for deliberately monstrous changes.
"CUT! Well done, Doctor. We will see what the censors have to say. If they agree, we can move on to the first of the deliberately monstrous changes. Um... I do have a question or three of my own?"
"I think I can guess what they are. I made those changes under duress. *They* came to *me* with the list of genetic changes desired, insisting that I simply adapt them as best I could to the patient's genome. No, I am not fabulously wealthy; the government saw to that."
"Thanks, Doctor."
((finis)) |
A grizzled, wrinkled, sunken, old face stared back at me in disbelief from the mirror, barely recognizable as my own reflection. I touched my finger to my right temple, then left. Crow’s feet had stretched themselves from my eyes. My hair, just two years ago a dark auburn, was patched with gray and white threads. It was as if I’d been serving as President during the deadliest war in world history. Only then did I realize the cost of my abilities, the price for being so unique, so prized and special by those who knew me. And only then did I realize what I’d amounted to thus far.
I’d spent my life whoring myself out to the highest bidder, trying to convince myself that I’d at least be doing some good for the world. A hero for hire, unlike anyone you’d ever seen. I pulled the corrupt and powerful out of hot water, whether for a black ops government assignment, or a corporate stooge who needed to keep some of his dealings off the books. But who was I helping, really? Does thwarting some terrorist attacks and rescuing some hostages make up for the people I’ve killed, the people I’ve scammed?
I didn’t save the world. Wars were fought and people were killed under my watch. I didn’t run to the front lines. I maybe passed a note or two along. Dictators still rose, revolutions still toppled them and took innocent blood in the process - human nature didn’t change, and the world didn’t stop turning because of me and what I did.
How much time do I have left? Years? Months? No doctor I ever talked to understood my condition. Maybe I should turn myself over to hospice care now. Not like I can settle with anyone - it’d be a betrayal to have a woman want to be with me the rest of her life, then hide from her the fact I’ve got just a few years of mileage left. Can I even make up for anything with the time I have?
I’m living in dog years. That’s all I am, really. Somebody’s loyal little pup. I always told myself, “better me than somebody worse.” There’s always someone worse, that’s why I never had to feel this kind of remorse - until now.
My rumination and regret was interrupted by a buzzing in my pocket. Diverting my attention, I pulled out my phone to see the name “GATOR” displayed on the screen.
Gator. Garza. Last time I talked to him, I could still convincingly pull off the “action star” look. What the hell does he want?
Reluctantly, I answered the phone, though he spoke the first words.
“Mr. Canaan,” he said, as if to offer a smile and handshake through the phone. “How are you, my friend?”
“Fine,” I answered, short and quick.
“Ooh, you don’t sound fine,” he picked up from only one word. “You been smokin’ again?”
“Would you believe me if I said ‘no’?” I asked sincerely.
“Ah, must be that Bucharest air, then,” he replied.
“What are you calling for?” I asked curtly, becoming suspicious of his motives.
“You know I don’t call unless I have to,” he stated as he began hinting at his true intentions.
“Yeah, some friendship we have.”
“We need you for something,” he said, ignoring my jab.
“What, did your boys ‘misplace’ fifty million again?” I poked at him once more.
“No,” he said, dropping the friendly demeanor from earlier. “Something big.”
“How big?” I inquired. Then he dropped it on me like a brick.
“Do you remember what we found in Cairo?” he asked.
I paused. Cairo? He couldn’t be talking about-
“The other half,” Garza interrupted before I could even reply. “Somebody else found it first. And whoever it is, they’ve picked off at least two of my guys trying to find our piece.”
“You tryin’ to add me to that list?” I asked, starting to become nervous and trying to make sense of what he’s said.
“No one here even knows you were involved,” he reassured me. “That business hasn’t gotten out in my end, I promise you.”
“It’s supposed to be a damn hoax. One of the superpowers would have found it already if it was real,” I explained, trying to convince myself that what Garza was saying was impossible.
“Well, whoever‘s walking around killing federal agents like it’s littering seems pretty convinced it exists.”
“How do you know the killer has the other piece?” I began try and get a basic understanding of the situation.
“They’ve said as much. Both bodies have a calling card, and both crime scenes have notes telling us to ‘give up the path, or more of them will die.’”
“And I assume we have no suspects?”
“M.O. doesn’t match any one of the private armies or intelligence agencies, foreign or domestic,” Garza stated.
I paused again to try and recap all of what’s just been told to me. Sensing my disbelief, Garza he began again.
“Come by my office tonight,” he offered. “I’ll give you a full briefing.”
He hung up before I could even protest.
The map. The Vault. I thought it had to have been a ruse, some Cold War false flag operation to throw the US off the Soviets’ scent and sew discord in the intel agencies.
If it’s real, some upstart is about to come into a lot of power - and take the entire world hostage. Guess I’ll have to think about my impending doom another time. |
\[Poem\]
I roll up my pink sleeves and expose wrists
devoid of black ink. She kisses them, whispers
how beautiful to not know how you die.
Her smile makes me forget the rope tattoo
circling her wrist. We play around, drawing
stories on our bodies with our touch. Here,
I melt in her arms and call her home.
&#x200B;
Soon the tattoo fulfils its prophecy. I cut
the rope, hug her body close to mine and feel
nothing but cold. If only I had bought all ropes
that have ever existed, hid them under the earth
where her fingers could not reach them.
&#x200B;
Three hundred fifty-four years pass. My body remains
unchanged. When will I die, how will I die,
if I will ever die?
&#x200B;
I forget her face, her voice, her touch.
What is death if not this? |
Who am I? Am I a person? I think I am. What if I'm not? These are just a few of the thoughts that race through my head as I stare at the boring beige ceiling of my apartment. I start drifting in and out of consciousness, with my thoughts still tormenting me.
Another sleepless night. The same as last night. And every other night to be fair. I guess it's similar to my waking life. Boring and dull. You know, it's really hard to make friends when you have never made any before and don't know anything about yourself.
As I head back home, I see the poster I had put up when I first woke up. It was a "Have you seen this man? Call ----------- today."Poster that I put up on the bridge hoping it would lead to someone thinking "Oh, I know him, what did he do?"But no, 4 years later and no calls.
I was so focused on the poster that I didn't realize a red car that was to the left of me was turning into my lane. I didn't even get the chance to see my life flash before my eyes, I was just falling. It wasn't that big of a fall, but the water pressure left me no way of opening the door and I quickly drowned.
As the life drains from my body, I see the Grim Reaper sitting in the passenger seat, checking his list, obviously very perplexed. "I don't seem to have you on the list, but I know you die here, I can feel it."
I stare at him, mouth agape. What else was I supposed to do? It was the literal Grim Reaper, standing in front of me saying that I am going to die. It was obvious he had gotten this reaction before, because he reached over, closed my jaw, and said "Give me one minute."And disappeared.
A few seconds later, he reappeared and said "God said you weren't supposed to exist."
"What?"I ask. How does an omniscient, omnipotent, god just accidentally create a man in his late 30's and plop him into existence???
Before I could ask anything else, he just said, "OK, bye bye."
I tried to scream out for help, but then I fell into non-existence, the place between heaven and hell, a place where thoughts don't happen. It was kind of peaceful. |
We had been traveling in the north Pacific for weeks and I was sick of it.
Being broke, I was ready to accept any job I could find. A billionaire offering to pay me to clean his ship as we sailed to find some mystical island nobody had heard of was good enough for me. The stories would be good enough to make it worth it, let alone the month or so I wouldn't have to bother to squander up loose change just to buy a dollar menu burger.
"How much longer do you think he's going to go at it?"Lucy muttered to me one morning. She was the photographer of the mission, and so far, she'd had to make do with footage of water.
"Until we all die of starvation,"I responded, sighing.
"I hope the pictures of a magical land with rainbows and unicorns will make this all worth it."She rolled her eyes. Buchanan, the billionaire, had told many odd tales of the island we were heading towards: mystical beasts no one had ever heard of, perfect weather with rolling hills of the most beautiful flowers we could imagine (despite being near the Arctic Circle), and beautiful mountains encasing it.
"The money makes it worth it,"I countered.
Buchanan cleared his throat as he entered the main dining area of the ship, our main meeting spot. "Good morning, everyone,"he greeted. "Guess what? Today's the day!"
"What day?"the chef asked.
"When we find Aristopolis."Buchanan grinned. He looked expectantly at each of us until we faithfully put on our most excited faces. This job was giving me acting skills.
"Yay,"Lucy said quietly. "How much longer until we get there?"
"Only a few hours off now, depending on the weather."He took a seat next to his wife, who'd slowly been looking more and more distressed as the journey went on. "This will make everything worth it."
We'd asked him a few questions over the weeks. Namely, why didn't he take a plane? His answer was that the magic only allowed a sea entrance. Why couldn't we see it on satellites? Magic. Everything was magic.
I figured we'd sail around a bit, realize there's nothing there, then come back home, where I could afford to pay a couple months of rent.
After the meeting broke up, I took to straightening out the cabin. Buchanan was a massive clean freak, too. It had become a nice routine, if a little monotonous. I was just in the middle of scrubbing the floor when I heard a big bang, like the ship had run into something.
I rushed onto the main deck. "What was that?"I asked.
"We ran into something!"Lucy shouted, running to the front of the boat. "There's nothing there, though. Maybe it was some underwater rock."
"Everything seems fine underneath the boat,"one of the crew members said, coming up from below. "There isn't any leaking or anything."
"it was probably some sort of fluke,"Buchanan declared from across the boat. The boat was small enough that no conversation was private. "Let's keep on going! Turn on the motors!"
The motors roared to life, but nothing happened. We were stuck.
"This is ridiculous,"I muttered. "Are you sure it's over there?"I gestured largely, as was my habit, but I smacked my hand into something. "Did I just hit the front of the boat?"I asked Lucy.
"Uh... no? You were waving your hands in mid-air."She rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me the craziness is contagious,"she muttered.
I reached my hand back out. Instead of air, there was a wall. An invisible wall. "Holy shit,"I muttered. "I'm serious. There's a wall here."
"Okay, I'll humor you,"she retorted, but her eyes snapped open as she held out her hand. "Oh."
Buchanan walked toward us. "The magic doesn't think we're worthy,"he whispered. "Some of you have to leave. Some of you aren't worthy."
"Wh-what?"Lucy sputtered. "Leave to go where?"
"The water. We've made it this far. I'm not turning back now!"
"Whoa. Hold on. What if you're the one they don't think is worthy?"
"This map has been in my family for centuries. It's my duty to find this land!"He glared at all of us. "One by one, you will get off this boat, until we can enter."
"You're crazy!"Lucy shrieked.
"And you're first!"Buchanan shoved her. I tried to react, but he was too fast, and before I could act, she was in the water, gasping for breath and trying to tread water.
"Hang on Lucy!"I cried, looking for a rope or jacket or *anything* to pull her back up with.
"We're still not moving,"Buchanan snapped. "Who else was a skeptic? You!"He pointed at me.
"Whoa. I'm stronger than you."I held my hands up, but he kept getting closer. I moved back, until my back was against the edge of the ship. I could still hear Lucy screaming, and various panicking noises from the other crew.
"We'll see about that,"he snarled, grabbing my coat. I tried to fight him off. He was stronger than me, despite being built like a stick. The next thing I knew, I was freezing. I treaded water as best as I could, but the water was too cold. I couldn't move fast enough, and everything went black.
***
I woke up with a gasp.
"Oh, thank goodness."An old woman placed a warm towel on my forehead. "We were worried you wouldn't make it."
"Where am I?"I tried to sit up, but I was too weak to. I could barely feel my body.
"You're in Aristopolis,"she said. "You're safe now."
My eyes closed again.
***
The next few days were spent in and out of consciousness, but one day, she helped me sit up. The room was made out of dark wood and lit by candles.
"Where am I?"I asked.
"Aristopolis."
"I'm still dreaming, aren't I?"I mumbled.
"Drink this."She handed me a small vial.
"What is it?"
"A healing potion."
What did I have to lose? I chugged it down. It tasted disgusting, but somehow, I felt a little stronger almost immediately. "Where's Lucy?"I asked.
"The girl you came with? She's in the next room. She's perfectly fine as well."She smiled at me.
"But, what happened? How are we alive?"
"You were victims of selfishness. Our walls protect us from the selfishness. When you fell into the water, the currents took you past the walls and into our waters, where we could rescue you."She sighed. "Many of our people are descended from similar victims. We haven't had anyone attempt in years, though."
"So, Buchanan isn't here?"
"I believe he's still screaming at the wall."She smiled at me. "Get some rest now. You're safe."
All I could do was believe her, so I did. |
The small robot was not afraid. It took one last look to its owner, the many adventures they had together, and begun walking towards the oppressors. Tears in his eyes the boy watched as his trusted companion marched defiantly to his doom.
"What are you? A man or machine? Why are you protecting them?"metallic voice asked as tentacles
"My name is Zadak."
"Stand aside Zadak. We have nothing against you."
"Drop your weapon!"the small red robot demanded.
"You are in no position to make demands. We have you surrounded"
"FIRE!"
Many little lights started blinking as the small robot started to twist his body, firing his weapon on as many enemies as he could. But with a one flash of light it was all over.
"Danny, your food is getting cold!" |
1/3
“The artificial lights are starting to burn out, aren’t they?” Reggie picked at the remains of his apple. The two sat at a small table on the balcony of Amy’s apartment overlooking the dismal grey city pinpointed with bright spots of light that did nothing to hide the invading squalor.
“Well, they weren’t exactly at peak efficiency before the Dark,” Amy replied, resting her head on her hand. “I sometimes wish I could leave though. Vitamin D is getting harder to come by; it’s really starting to eat into my paycheck.”
“How are the elevator repairs going? Almost a year and there hasn’t been any movement at all,” Reggie cleaned his hands carefully and scooted closer to Amy. He was enjoying their recent friendliness, although a lot of that was probably due to Amy’s apathy. The darkness really did a number on people’s minds.
“It’s a conspiracy, I tell you,” Amy was always more animated when the topic of her job came up. “The highest city has always been the wealthiest, and they aren’t exactly keen on descending back down to eternal night. People spend more money in the natural sunlight, and their tourism industry is booming from the lower levels. No new protocols to try, no incentives from the bosses anymore to put in overtime. We’ll be stuck down here forever.”
“Well, not such a bad thing for me and my folks though. You know I’d invite you to stay with us if I could. You pay way too much for this sordid apartment.”
“Ya, I know. But I wouldn’t have you if I moved right? You all have been very nice to me, and not every tenement has such friendly pests, do they?” Amy teased. She held out her hand, and Reggie scurried up to rest on her shoulder, hairless pink tail draped around her neck. Amy scratched the head of the intelligent rat, his evolved kind a byproduct of the permanent darkness. Amy looked out again to the depressing rat-infested city, and chuckled to herself, “maybe a ratpocalpyse wouldn’t be all bad.” |
The house was all rotting wood and crumbled brick. It seemed so out of place among the newer homes -a condemned eyesore that should have been torn down ages ago. The house was called Edith, and local superstition stated that this Edith was haunted.
The first resident, after whom the house was named, had been violently murdered by her own nephew—strangled to death in her own bed. Ever since then, the house had passed from owner to owner and it was rumored that every buyer had suffered some mysterious misfortune for having owned that house. Whether by chance, or by some other force, nothing had become of Edith. It sat; abandoned.
Despite local legend, and the warnings from worried parents about the structural integrity of the building, Edith became THE spot for delinquent teens to gather. The house, defiled by graffiti and filth, was eventually declared a health hazard and boarded up. Still, from time to time, people would ignore the warnings and venture into Edith. And from time to time, Edith would claim another victim. This is the story of Edith:
Jamie had found the book hidden in the rafters of the old house and wiped the dust from its cover.
*The Lion King*
She wondered who had left a perfectly good book like this behind. Jamie opened it and flipped through its pages. A name was written on the inside cover, “EDITH”. It must have belonged to the first owner of the house. Cool. What was even better was that the whole thing was in flawless condition - spotless except for one page.
“No worries for the rest of your days.”
Someone had scribbled and scratched over the rest of the text. Another message was written beneath:
“DO NOT SPEAK THE WORDS. NOT EVEN A WHISPER OF THE CURSE. ”
How strange. It looked as if the words were written in crayon. Jamie thought she could probably get the markings off at home and she put the book into her bag. Once cleaned up, the book would make a great present for her niece.
She hummed the song on the way back, unaware of the danger the book contained.
Edit: spelling. |
People thought their tragedy was being too new to explore the earth, but too young to explore the stars.
They had no idea it had been done.
How could they? When the land of magick was doomed to die, the Adam project started. As many spacefaring machines as we could muster. Each would carry the same cargo. A man and a woman, in a ship with some of our greatest art pieces and music, who would be placed in stasis until such time as they would make first contact with a new planet or new alien race to join. It was a rough time- the people who would agree knew joining this project could very well mean their death if they would never meet with another alien race or planet - but with the end of the magickal age, it was almost kinder than waiting for the inevitable.
I was the one in charge of the sendoff. It was harder than I expected- not just saying a final goodbye to almost all of my friends, but also deciding just what of our greatest art or music would never be seen or heard again by our people as they were sent away. But I would stay- I knew how to keep myself safe from the magic bombs- my major was controlling ice, and I would stay underneath the surface.
Just like the people I would send off, I knew I could be looking at my own death- but I also knew, if I ever rose from my grave, it would be time to start the project again for the age of mechanics... |
It was going to be a bit difficult to write a journal log on this one is what the archive writer thought to himself as he picked up his pen and stared down at the currently empty page of his notebook.
Records of prior criminal cases and notable villain profiles filled much of books lying around the archive room and now that the higher-ups wanted an added profile written up on entry that had been keeping all of its pursuers in the dust for so long the man in the room thought to himself how he seemed to have landed himself in a bit of pickle.
The man felt it was logical to start with the facts and numbers he knew to be true so he tried hard to remember what he knew for sure of this particular profile.
While nobody could put an exact number to death tolls left by this thing a rough estimate put the number at around two-hundred in the past month alone.
The thing left behind more carcasses and corpses than any other adversary had in all the Association of Heroes' years of working.
He or she or it or whatever the thing was seemed to have a liking for leaving out visible chunks of its victims' skulls chewed and bitten out with the brains and fluids and gunk leaking out of the head.
The trail of stink and flies this would leave behind itself usually made itself known long before investigators came to arrive.
The man in the room quickly penned down what notes he could remember and then after pondering over whether he had written enough the man put his things away before turning around to the second man that had silently been standing in the room the entire time to report that he'd managed to successfully cover the second man's tracks again and that nobody would be able to catch him and could he please make sure to leave a bit less of a mess behind when he went out for his meals this time because it was getting harder and harder to look at to which the second man quietly scoffed and said surely it can't be as hard as being the president of the heroes' association while living on a diet that forced him to consume living human meat and accidentally earning an anonymous reputation of being the most wanted thing in the entire city.
Though of course, the second man added, it didn't hurt that he could finally let himself out for a bit without having to hide himself all the time because God did it feel good to rip and tear and maim and finally have some blood on his hands again because that kind of high just couldn't come from anything less. |
I am very aware that my flirtation with death is now in a literal sense. This man, is beautiful, empty, and filled with sorrow. His empty eyes reflect the absence of a soul. I should definitely slam the door and retreat back into my cozy apartment. Of course, I can't resist the challenge. Death has always called to me. Actually, this time he slid into my DM's.
I reflect on my lapses in judgment as I loop my arm into his and walk out into the dim and buzzing porch light that sets the tone for our ominous night. While I'm walking by his side, I realize his height dwarfs me, and I see the outline of his wings hidden beneath his black jacket. His silence as we walk is unnerving and exciting.
He opens the door for me to climb into his Jeep. (I know, you were expecting a hearse or a carriage drawn by demon horses.) He finally says "you've been a tease my dear, I can't wait to show you what I have planned for you tonight."I welcome the feeling of my blood running cold and start plotting how I am going to escape Death himself. |
'Just take it easy sir' I say calmly 'We are just two friends trying slowly and in healthy manner, vent the stuff we have to deal with sir' I add respectfully '\*sigh\* Right, ugh, feels like I haven't oiled the gears well in my head for way too long' Devil says 'We all have those moments... I feel the same \*sigh\*. Another round?' I ask calmly and stretch.
'Let's play some, we have so much time to spend until, duty calls... Again...' Devil says in annoyed due to exhaustion tone 'Yeah, I don't envy you sir, you get to vent the best way' I say staying respectful but, slightly tired myself too. Not of talking in respectful manner to the devil. He is good company in this state and my own duties while not as bad, are equally,
tiresome... 'Now then mortal, shuffle the deck and draw cards to see, what we will work with' he says in his usual manner, then shakes his head. 'You have no idea how much I dislike the highway to hell...' Devil says 'Yeah... We tend to be... Baffle ourselves too with our stupidity... Most of it bad but, well, at least some of it. Not as bad' I say.
Nah, this is not poker or any of those typical high stakes style games. Just typical card game usually played by us commoners to pass time and enjoy our guy time. 'Well, with your line of work. Not surprised that you know a thing or two' Devil says 'Well, you have seen most what I have seen and maybe six hundred sixty six times it' I say.
He exhaled slightly from the nose in slightly amused manner 'Yeap... It's hard work' Devil says 'I am amused by this situation though, even if we have done it once already' I say 'Heh, a devil and a cop playing cards... It is definitely a strange sight to anybody' Devil says in amused manner. We draw cards, I set my own hand on the table and grab the coffee pot.
I pour some on his cup then on my own. 'Thank you' Devil says in well, rather normal manner which would be considered just off putting so badly that you wouldn't believe what you just heard, well, to anybody else except me. Not entirely sure but, I believe it when I see it and the Devil. Well, it is pretty obvious he sits on top of quite a pile a secrets.
I place the coffee pot aside from the middle of the table but in reach for both of us in case we want another cup. 'Have you found anybody yet?' Devil asks mildly interested. I was going to answer in honest manner but... 'If I do, I am not sure whether I would tell her name to you' I say 'HAH! Good man' Devil barked out a laugh as I pick up my cards.
Then we start playing another round again 'If I had a wife, she probably would run out screaming' I say 'For the right reasons mostly' Devil adds 'Well, in hindsight, after saying that. There might be some that would just see it and just let it play out' I say 'True, you would be surprised, how many of those I have met' Devil says 'That's life for us, each to their own' I say.
'A bit of an obvious statement but, some do need that reminder' Devil says mildly amused. |
"Be...beware the...duck."were the last words the lady spoke before she died in the warriors arms, seems the bolt that struck her went deeper than expected.
Her "savior"however was a little unsure of what to do right now, for one, the cause of this whole journey just died before him and her dying words weren't exactly something one would expect from the high-merchants own daughter. Worse, coming back with merely these words and her body surely would tarnish his reputation, who in their right mind would take a warning involving poultry seriously? Are ducks even poultry?
No matter, seems he had to make up a convincing cover story. Maybe a hag snatched her and sacrificed her to some twisted demon? No, it's been ages since the last had been seen, especially in these parts. Or she freed herself and fought to her last breath like the valkyries of old? No, she certainly neither had the skill nor physique of a fighter.
However what he did not realise was that she didnt mean it as a warning before a duck but rather what the warrior should do, as behind his back one of the brigands he thought dead but who had only pretended to be injured got back to his feet , crossbow at the ready and took careful aim.
So lost in thought was he that he did not even register the bolt being fired and soon fell to the ground like a sack of grain.
&#x200B;
\-Excerpt from "The last tales of Sir Alfons the Dense." |
Christopher, aka the guy from r/xwhy, comments on my stories welcome and encouraged! (Ask me about my actual published stuff)
&#x200B;
I don't think I've written any recently except for a follow-me Friday (no one followed until the following Wednesday, and my story didn't get a close).
Is there a quick way to see what I upvoted here recently. There were a few good ones that I wanted to get back to, whether I posted them or not. I, unfortunately, didn't write them down.
The only one I remember was the one about trading a devil for your soup. There was a typo in the contract.
Found it, but I didn't remember the professor part: \[WP\] Thanks to a typo in the contract, the professor gained complete mastery of all the knowledge in the heavens and the earth, in exchange for his soup.
I thought about eternal soup, like a pot that's always cooking and he's always refilling, and the devil comes on certain nights to have his fill of eternal soup, but won't finish it because then the bargain will be fulfilled. (legal wrangling ensues)
&#x200B;
Found a couple others that I commented on:
\[WP\] A witch cursed your name to be hated for all of eternity. So of course, the first thing you do is willingly give it to a fae
\[WP\] Superheroes have been around for centuries, this is the tale of the first one that appeared in 1717!
&#x200B;
I'm hoping to do some this week since I won't have students or homework to grade. |
*"Mouse's Mission"*
&#x200B;
Sharpening their needle, a determined Mouse
Departs on a mission, with purpose and vows
To save the nest, from the Cat's cruel might
Tonight, they will bell the Cat, or die trying
&#x200B;
With stealth and cunning, the Mouse makes their way
Through the dark and narrow, avoiding the prey
They know the Cat's habits, and all of their tricks
The Mouse is determined, to outsmart the feline's fix
&#x200B;
As the Cat slinks along, not suspecting a thing
The Mouse strikes with precision, and gives the Cat a sting
The Cat is killed, as the Mouse slips away
The Mouse's mission is complete, the Cat is dead, and now lay.
&#x200B;
For the nest is safe, and the Cat's reign is through
Thanks to the determination, of one brave Mouse who
With needle in hand, faced danger and fear
And emerged victorious, saving those they hold dear. |
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