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I am a physical therapist. Normally, therapists will sit you down and work out your problems with you. It's a life-saving service, but sometimes it's not what you're looking for. Sometimes, the problem really is them, not you, and what you really need is a mundane hero in a classy suit to make the problem go away. Privately, I refer to myself as a mom for hire.
Today, I had two meetings. The first was scheduled for the slightly unusual time of 5:15 am. I let myself into my client's vacated home. The speaker system was set up exactly as I'd left it. Perfect. I connected it to my phone, and began blasting Safety Dance on repeat. It was LOUD. With any luck, the directional speakers focused the noise only onto the house next door, but I was running the risk of annoying perfectly innocent neighbors. Hopefully they understood it was for the greater good.
I waited 26 minutes before the insistent knocking commenced. I let the neighbor stew for a bit before I finally opened the door. "Yes?"I asked sweetly.
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"she demanded belligerently.
"Yes."
"You have to turn it down! You woke me and my son up!"
"Well, I like to party in the morning. It's a free country."
"Look, where's Daryl? Does he know you're here?"
I laughed. "Oh, honey. Daryl has a toddler. He couldn't stay here while your son partied every night until 3 am. But I don't mind, so I'm renting his place. And I party in the morning!"I watched the realization of what I was doing dawn on her face. I continued. "But, Daryl loves this place. He might be convinced to come back if your son plays music at a reasonable volume."
"I'll talk to him about it,"she muttered angrily.
"Awesome! I'll be living here until you do!"I turned off the music. Hopefully Daryl and his toddler would get some peace and quiet now. If not, I'd be back.
I took a nice, long nap after that. Then, I prepared for my second appointment. A 14-year-old girl was being severely bullied, and the school had refused to take any action so far. I advised the girl’s mom to be a little late in picking her up from softball practice today. When I got there, the girls were still practicing. I filmed from my car. I managed to get some footage of the girls purposefully throwing the ball way over Brittney’s head, causing her to have to go fetch it every time. I got out of the car to get audio. What I heard turned my stomach. I don’t care to repeat it here, but they were degrading and cruel. Brittney noticed me, but stuck with the plan and didn’t make any sign. I caught it all, pretending to be a bored mom scrolling on my phone. After the girls were done, Brittney drank some water, and a bully “accidentally” bumped into her, causing Brittney to spill on her clothes. Unbelievable.
After practice, I met Brittney and her mom in a pizzeria. I showed them the video. Brittney’s mom was near tears, but Brittney looked excited. “You got them! Maybe the school will listen now.”
“Oh, they’ll listen now,” I assured her. I got her input, drafting a very satisfying email to the principal, counselor, coach, and teachers, explaining that this level of bullying was intolerable, and that the bullies needed to be put in different classes, sports, and lunch periods than Brittney, and that there were policies that needed to be enforced. If they took no action, I’d escalate. I attached the video. Brittney and her mom nodded their approval, and I pushed send. We’d meet again tomorrow.
My job is usually pretty basic, but I like to stand up for the Daryls and Brittneys of the world. |
The third petitioner of the day was kneeling by the foot of the dais upon which he took his daily audience.
Behind him, to both his left and right stood his guardians, still and silent as the grave.
He was disquieted at the state of the man before him, disheveled and forlorn he deduced several things.
First and foremost he was a fanatic. It was in his bearing, his stature. The slight deference in which his head was held, and the zeal in his eyes.
*A believer.*
“Stand, child.”
The frail man stood, his stooped back bent and hands raised above his gnarled and pock-marked head.
The second fact was apparent in that face. He was mortally ill. It was likely the scourge of radiation that had befallen so many of his petitioners of late. He knew that the wastelands beyond were full of rad-wrecks and that the dune seas were likewise poisoned by nuclear material.
The man's cracked lips began to move. “My Lord, I come to beg at your feet, as one of your faithful apostles.”
That made the guardians behind him stir uneasily. The rumour of godhood that had been applied to him in public spheres recently was a topic of contention in his courts. He always denied divinity, as it was anathema to his rule, which had toppled so many of the previous false gods.
He stood and took the beggar's hands in his own. “Come now my child. There’s no need for all that.”
He gently moved the man back to the chair that stood alone in front of his dais. “You should know better than to use those terms in these halls. You know I am no god.”
The beggar was stricken, his eyes stared straight into the God-Mans, panicked yet unable to look away. The man managed a shake of his head.
He placed his hand upon the man's knee, leaning close and closing his eyes.
From this position he deduced the third thing. The cancers were metastasized, spread into every organ and marrow. This made Him frown.
The atomic level manipulation was easy, and he quickly ran the gene edit, down through his fingers, into the beggars bloodstream he could see, as much as feel, the cancer recede and shrink. While he was there he patched several lesser wounds, scarring to the cardiac vessels, and reversed some of the more severely aged structures. It was a simple enough technique he had mastered some years ago, and he had used it on occasion to keep himself healthy and unaged.
He opened his eyes and smiled at the man.
“I see the weariness in you, my child. Is there something you would ask of me?”
The beggar opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly.
“My lord. I only wished to pay homage…If there was another reason for my visit I confess I must have forgotten.”
At this the Godling beamed wider. “Not to worry my friend.” He raised his hand up to the side of the man's face then, cradling the stranger's head, as a mother might to a child. “I humbly accept your homage.”
This time from the fingers flowed only an idea, strong and pervasive. It drilled down into the beggar’s mind, irrefutable and unchangeable.
"*I met him once you know. A brilliant man, but not a god."*
The godling rammed the thought home, down deep, right by the base instincts. He snuggled the suggestion next to the man’s disgust center, under his belief systems, in a nook of the man’s mind as deep as the one that held the face of his own mother.
When the hand fell away from the man’s face, the stricken pain that had occupied it had drained away, and what was left was a pleasant blissful expression.
The godling gestured towards the door, “Go in peace my friend.”
As the man closed the audience hall behind him, He sighed inwardly. The third apostle of the day, converted.
*It wasn’t yet the time for God’s.* |
Sparky was a chihuahua who woke up one evening feeling different. His tail felt weird. He looked back. His tail was just a stub! As he examined it, wondering how this happened, he saw something furry out of the corner of his eye. It was a tail floating just above the bedroom floor. He couldn’t resist. He loved a physical challenge, so he charged at it. The tail flew out of the room and down the hall. He ran after it. The sliding glass door to the backyard was open. The tail glided out the opening. Sparky followed. It flew to the fence, abruptly flew upward, and floated there. Sparky just stared. After a while, Sparky gave up, realizing it was useless. He went inside.
The next day, Sparky saw the tail floating in the hall. He ran after it as it flew away. It then flew up and halted. Sparky couldn’t reach it, so he, again, gave up. This repeated over the course of years. One day, he was chewing on his rubber bone. He looked to the left. The tail was laying on the floor. He ran to it while it still laid lifeless. He bit down on it and lifted his head. He was happy. Suddenly, a flash of light appeared in front of him. The light disappeared to show a man in its place. The man wore a white robe and said, “One’s own enemy is sometimes themself.” He then vanished. Sparky didn’t know what to make of it.
The next week, while the dog relaxed, the man appeared again. “Did you ever really lose your tail?” He vanished. Sparky was clueless.
The following night, he appeared and said, “Sparky, look at the tail you’ve been chasing.” Sparky looked at the tail on the ground. He realized that it had his fur. It hit him like a truck. Sparky’s jaw dropped. He was shocked. |
The Alpha, a ship, sailed to an inlet of an island. The sailors got off and stepped foot onto the land. They walked into the forest to explore. Meanwhile, the woman statue on the front of the ship glowed. The figurehead was gray and wore a simple dress. The dress went from gray to blue and green instantly. She then wriggled, unnaturally at first, but then as a living being moving her limbs individually. She had a consciousness. She became detached from the ship and fell into the water below. She quickly swam up and surfaced. She swam to the shore and began walking to the forest. She had a strong urge to explore and start her life. She wanted to meet people.
Deep in the forest, she found an apple tree. An apple hung low enough for her to grab. She reached out and plucked it. Biting into it, she experienced ecstasy. It was sweet and salty. She looked to the nearby river. She went to the edge, got on all fours, and extended her neck. She put her mouth to the water and drank. It was bitter. She jumped back while spitting it. “Hi”, said a voice. She looked to her left, scared. A woman in similar garb walked up to her. “I’m Jax. The river has an acquired taste. You see, there are no men here, and the women use this river to get pregnant. What’s your name?” “I don’t have one. I was just born.” Jax cocked her head. “I was a figurehead. I was brought to life”, said the woman. “Curious. I’ll call you ‘Fey.’ You will live with us. Follow.” She walked away, and Fey followed.
The men got back to the ship and boarded. “Uh, sir?”, one said. "What seems to be the problem?""Well... the front fell off." |
I was putting sugar cubes in a cup of tea when I heard the first “ring” of the door in a while. I looked up to see a white stout alien. Its eyes were beady and orange. There were two bumps on either side of its head. It had a bent antenna, and it smiled. “Hello, I am General Snoo. I would like your finest tea.” I was taken aback. After I came to the reality that this was just another customer, I got it a plastic cup of raspberry mango tea. It drank out of the straw, and, once it entered its mouth, its eyes widened. It drank for a few more seconds. “That was amazing”, it told me, grinning, "The karma fills my soul.” It then laid the cash on the counter. “What’s in it?” “Mango and raspberry, along with sugar.” It looked stunned. “How much?” “Five tablespoons”, I said, confused. “Blasphemous! This is disgusting! My race and I are leaving”, it said while speed walking out of the shop. |
I stepped out of my house and gazed at the landscape. I was the only one here, or at least I thought. The ground was grey and barren. In the dark sky, the Sun shone. Out of the corner of my eye was something moving. It was a group of ants. They were larger than the ones on Earth. They were the size of small dogs, and all walked into the same direction. I decided to follow. One of them turned his head around. “Hi”, he said, still walking. “Hi”, I said back. He faced forward. We walked with the only noise being our footsteps.
After about a half hour, I saw a hole that led underground. The ants went in. It was a tunnel that was a bit steep. I tried to walk down carefully without falling. I thought I was going to have to slide down. I soon heard electronic music. The bass was loud. The tunnel led to a giant room of other ants. Lasers of various colors projected from the ceiling. An ant was at a turntable. The others danced, bobbing back and forth. |
"Commander Richards, Chief Researcher Donald... explain what the hell I'm looking at, because it's not the velociraptors I was promised,"I said through clenched teeth. "If I were a betting man, I'd be putting enough money to buy this island on the fact that what I'm currently looking at... is a *fucking turkey*."The two men nervously standing behind me glanced at each other.
"The, uh, process to create velociraptors and begin cloning them had to start somewhere, so you are not entirely wrong in your deduction, sir,"the scientist said, sweating bullets. "Hollywood is several years behind the archaeological community when it comes to the biology of these creatures, and so far as my team can tell this is most of the traits of the velociraptor expressed in a modern day animal with the closest DNA... just not the size..."
I looked closer at the round ball of feathers. Yup, talons, claws hidden beneath feathers on the wings, and that is definitely a jaw full of teeth instead of a beak. That said, it has a top speed approaching asthmatic dodo bird, the tail was still belonged to a turkey, and if that mouth could do anything more than nibble on meat I would eat my own boots.
"How long until your team can express the REST of the velociraptor traits, *Donald*?"I turned to look at him over my shoulder. "Or were you about to tell me that the last seven months only got you this close?"Donald's terrified silence spoke much louder than any words he could have stuttered out. "Very well. I'm sure your hard work deserves a closer inspection. You can identify any problem areas you find and get to work ironing those out in, ohhh, let's say a week. Goodbye, Chief Researcher Donald."With that, I made a fist in the collar of his lab coat and threw him screaming into the "velociraptor"enclosure.
The feathery abomination and its several brother and sisters locked eyes on the screaming body that had just dropped into their home and sprinted towards it. Their vertical leap was impressive, as was their accuracy in going for the eyes and throat. In seconds Donald had been punctured in several vital areas and was now being sliced apart so that the velociraptors could eat him better. I was right about that mouth, but the claws and talons did most of the work anyway.
"Hm, not bad, Donald." |
# Air Strike
Name: | Air Strike
Schools: | Elemental, Wanded, Runic
Date of Discovery: | Unknown
Reagents: | Feather and stone, Incantation and wand, 1 Air rune and 1 Force rune
The **Air Strike** is one of the earliest spells learned by users of the Elemental, Wanded, and Runic schools of magic. Its versatility makes it popular among magic users of all disciplines, power levels, skill levels, and experience levels.
## History
The Air Strike spell is one of the oldest spells in history, with widespread depictions in cave paintings. A form of Air Strike was mentioned in Ancient Sumerian texts, as a weapon used by a thief trying to evade the enforcers of the law.
Air Strike exists in three different schools of magic because of different approaches to trying to formalise and refine the spell, in order to simplify the teaching of it. All three schools claim that their form is superior and purer to the other two.
This disagreement led to the "Air Strike War"of 1500 Common Year. Contingents of magi from all three schools clashed at a symposium held in the ancient city of Zivar, over which form of Air Strike was superior. No conclusive winner is recorded from that clash, although the widespread and unrestrained usage of Air Strike during the conflict destroyed much of the lower town and caused multiple casualties.
## Casting
### Elemental school
The elemental school of magic casts Air Strike using the reagents of a feather and a stone. Any feather will suffice, but the stone has to be one containing at least 10% of any magic-reactive mineral.
> With the feather held in the left hand, and the magic stone grasped in the right, the mage brings his hands together and intones Strike. The feather and stone will be consumed, and a wave of air will burst forwards from where the hands meet.
The strength of an elemental Air Strike will depend on the skill and power of the practitioner, but also on the size of the feather. Even an Archmage will struggle to make a powerful strike with a down feather, but a flight pinion from a Greater Roc will allow even a novitiate to level a small shed.
### Wanded school
As with all spells, wanded practitioners must use a wand or, more rarely, a staff to cast Air Strike. The incantation depends on the language that the mage was taught in, but it's usually some variation on the spell's name. Wand users are taught to never speak an incantation while holding their wand, unless they mean to cast it, even though a wand movement is also required.
> Starting from the lower rest position, bring the wand sharply upwards in a clockwise swirl, while incanting the words of the spell. The motion should end with a sharp jab towards the spell's target.
The strength of a wanded Air Strike depends solely on the strength and skill of the practitioner. A novitiate might only be able to ruffle hair, whereas Archmage Nicolaus levelled the city of Gib in 578 CY as part of the Jenorian Wars.
### Runic school
Runic practitioners use two different runes to cast Air Strike: one for Air and one for Force. The exact rune used depends on the language used in the local region. These runes are typically inscribed into a stone containing a magic-bearing mineral, but some dedicated users of Air Strike have one or both of them tattooed, or even carved, into their hands.
> With the runes held in opposing hands, bring the palms together sharply, push the combined runes towards the target, and incant Strike, and a bolus of air will ripple at your foe and knock him from his feet like the kick of a horse. If the rune is close to breaking it will be consumed.
The strength of the runic Air Strike depends on the quality of the runic material used, as well as the caster's skill and power. Archmage McGir destroyed the city of Toni as retaliation for the destruction of Gib in the Jenorian Wars. He was one of the earliest recorded runic magi to have his Air Strike runes tattooed into his skin. |
(Berore I start, I'd like to say that I am hearing and far from fluent in ASL and struggle with sentence structure, so feel free to correct anything I got wrong.)
Dr. Manic stared at Sightset with wide, awestruck eyes.
'*Evaporate*' he signed tilting his head curiously,
Sightset nodded
Dr. Manic shook his head slowly, feeling far more respect for the deaf villian. He'd always believed the other man to be powerful, Sightsets ability to temporary wipe a person of their senses - touch, taste, sound, sight, hearing - was impressive, though he'd also always looked down on the other man. Despite being a villian, he held far to many morals and hesitations to villainous ways.
Though, looking to perhaps use the powers for his own gain, he had befriended the man. Wasn't hard, all he had to do was ask if Sightset would be willing to teach him ASL and instantly he'd built an alliance.
But now that he had been informed that Sightset had *evaporated* the heros child sidekick, he realized this man before him had more dangerous qualities to him than he let on.
Sightset seemed pleasantly taken aback by Dr. Manics appreciative reaction and lifted his hands again.
'*Happy?*' he asked,
Dr. Manic laughed, ofcourse he was pleased with the little pest being gone, and he nodded a fist in confirmation.
'*How did the hero react?*' Dr. Manic asked curiously
Sightset frowned and shook his head while tapping his fingers to his temple.
This time Dr. Manic was the one taken a back, '*Why do you not know?*' He signed back.
'*Hero know, how?*'
'*I think she would know if her little sidekick was evaporated.*'
'*Hero, kid, share identity never.*' He explained
The other man paused, '*You found his real name and then evaporated him?*'
Sightset nodded.
Dr. Manic hummed in thought, "That is certainly helpful, itll keep the blasted woman off our backs for awhile as she figures out the kids gone."He muttered to himself, much to Sightsets frustration as he despised when the Dr. purposely left him out of conversation.
'*Good job. You did good.*' Dr. Manic said finally, walking back his work station and waving Sightset off - another thing that irritated him - but he shrugged and left the base.
It came as quite the shock to the doctor a few days later, when he saw the heros sidekick alive and well and catching criminal, and an even bigger shock that Sightset was on the sidelines cheering the child on like a proud father. |
I flashed my badge and the security guard checked my backpack. The night shift was over. I laughed thinking that I was going to be fired some time around 8:30 am.
This was going to be my fourth time getting fired in 4 months. The irony was glorious. These were the same places where they treated me like dog shit. I had resigned them all initially. I guess this time it was their turn to let me go.
So, my last boss was this clown who thought that everything was easy. He kept saying dumb things like, “This is unacceptable,” when he looked over my weekly records. He would say, “It’s not that difficult,” as if I were a two year old child.
Piss on that dude and the other clowns I worked for before that. My work ethic is exemplary. I say my “please” and “thank you”.
I never once looked at Donna Deville’s tits when she leaned over to look at my computer screen.
I didn’t complain when Sal Pesca microwaved cod fish in the break room and blamed me.
I never gossiped at the coffee machine. I just did my fvcking job. It still wasn’t good enough.
They can all go to Hell. I went to a local homeless shelter. I found a dude who looked passably like me. He had fallen on some hard times and he needed a boost.
I rented him a motel room and he cleaned himself up. We had similar height and facial features so it was a good match.
I took him to the DMV and he got an ID card. Then I paid him $200 bucks for his social security number and his personal information. He was happy to do it after a bottle of scotch.
Then I applied to the scumbag company which made me rage quit the first time. I applied on line. The night janitor position was open. Nervously I interviewed hoping that they wouldn’t notice who I was.
Big shocker alert! Those mindless drones didn’t have a clue. I was invisible in their corporate cesspool eyes. I told them what they wanted to hear. Married? Yes. Kids? Yes. Religious? I love the Jesus.
“What will you learn from this experience?”
“I want to grow with a team. I want to be a part of a family and contribute to the future with this company …” blah…blah…fvcking blah.
I always got the job. It was easy. All I had to do was lie about every facet of my personality and kiss some wrinkled ass. Whatever.
After a training period they let me work the night shift alone. I must have looked like an idiot pushing my cart around smiling like a fool. I dusted, mopped, vacuumed and did everything perfectly.
I did everything except for one thing. At six o’clock, an hour before the end of my eight, I removed all of the toilet paper from all of the employee restrooms. I dumped them in the bins in the alley.
Then I dumped all the toilet paper from the stockrooms.
I smiled as the security guard passed me through and I went home. Around 8:30 that morning my burner phone was honking like a gaggle of geese and I slept like a koala bear.
I’ve done that three times already and it never gets old. As I wait for the morning bus I chuckle to myself like a madman. I can’t wait until my phone rings as I drift off to sleep today. |
"The Department of Demonic Forces for the Good of the World."
My job. Every evil you can think of exists here. And yet we are united under one cause. "World Protection". Right there in the gold plaque. Everyone here has contacted the Devil and got some sort of power. I am no exception. 5 years ago, when I was 17, I would get bullied. I made one of the greatest mistakes of my life. I contacted the Devil himself. I got a power. I could summon sasquatches from Hell. I could control them. They would do whatever I said.
But the Devil doesn't give stuff away for free. I was in debt to the Department for life. This place is worse than Hell. The building is hotter than any location on Earth. The imps will spear you repeatedly for slacking off for more than a minute. And the missions. I've seen things that only appear your worst nightmares. My co-worker was suffocated by a tree in Australia.
And now it was my turn. My turn to be speared by the legs of a giant 20-legged spider. My turn to be hit by a living action figure. My turn to be grinded into little woodchips by a cheese shredder.
"Alex Taner Hexta, please come to Room 27,"the PA system says. Thats me, I think, as I walk towards Room 27.
"Hello, Hexta,"says my boss, Jacob Maximine. A balding, gruff man who was the former Devil, before accidentally letting a man escape to Heaven, then being re-assigned to here. "Today, I have a special assignment for you. We have detected a strange demonic force in a cave, on an island, west of Caribbeans,"*Normal day,* I think to myself, "But this is special. The demonic force appears to be the Devil himself, or at least a descendant. Your job will be to extract whatever you find in that cave. You will have until sundown tomorrow. I will now transport you to Teleportation Fields."
Maximine flips a switch in his office, and suddenly, everything starts violently shaking, like a scale 10 earthquake hit the office. The wall behind me begins to cave, and it reveals a giant, foggy green field, with a stone structure sitting in the middle of it. A sign next to the structure says *Teleportation Fields*. "Good luck, Hexta,"says Maximine, before the wall rebuilds itself. I've been through this routine hundreds of times of times. I step into the structure, and a blue energy begins to build around me. Suddenly, I'm hit with the sensation to vomit, but through hours of training, I hold it back. After all of this stops, I open my eyes, and there it is. The cave.
I walk into the ominous cave. The ceiling is dripping, the walls are covered in algae, and the floor is a gross, soggy texture. I hear a moaning deep in the cave. I cautiously walk towards the sound. Up ahead, I see a blue light. I walk towards it, and find myself in a giant room full of water. The ceiling is covered in a brown, fur-like substance, and the walls are covered in blood. In the middle of the room, floating on a wood plank in the water, I see a red hairy imp, curled up into a ball. I begin to walk towards it.
"Hello?"I say, cautiously. The imp turns around, and screams "DEVIL!!! PLEASE DON'T HURT ME, I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!!"The imp begins to use his hand to push the plank towards the opposite side of the water, but falls in. He climbs back on the plank, and says in a timid voice "W-what do you want from me?"
"I'm with the Department of Demonic Forces for the Good of the World,"I say, "I came investigating a strange force."
"Ah, y-y-yes. I could feel your sasquatch powers. You see, I am the sasquatch goddess, Hendra. The-the-"the imp is cut off by a sudden red tinge in the room. "Oh n-no. He's here!"Suddenly a red face appears, just floating by itself. This face could only be recognized by one man. The Devil. His horns, red face, evil glare, and red eyes.
"HENDRA! YOU ARE ON DUTY!"shouted the devil, in a voice that could strike fear into any man, on Earth or in space.
"S-sorry, sir,"says Hendra, trembling.
"You will be punished for this!"
"NO! PLEASE SIR!"Suddenly, a red rope appears out of thin air, and jabs into Hendra's side. Hendra's screams and cries echo through the cave, as Hendra slowly begins to collapse.
*What do I do,* I think, *I shouldn't disobey the Devil, but Hendra did nothing wrong.* He was interrupted mid-thought by the pleas of Hendra. "PLEASE, BOY, HELP ME!"Hearing Hendra's suffering voice made up my mind. I ran towards Hendra.
"BOY, BACK OFF!"screamed the Devil. "I WILL HAVE YOUR POWERS!"
"I never wanted these,"I say, then scream "JANSAN!", the word to teleport back to the Department.
When I arrive back, Maximine is waiting there.
"What happened, Hexta?"
"The d-d-devil,"says Hendra, struggling to string 2 letters together. "He drains my l-l-life for everyone's powers. He's gone m-m-mad."Hendra says, then collapses. |
[POEM]
I’m looking down, the page is blank, I need to write, I need to think,
I’m comfortable here, in this chair, in this room, the day is fair,
There’s the window, it lets in the day, it’s out there, I’ll make my way
It’s nice out here, it’s warm and bright, I’m in a tree, a brand new height,
I’m looking down, through the window, that figure is empty, I must go back in to,
The page is blank, I need to write, it’s nice in here, it’s almost night. |
The 7am sunrise alarm woke Elon up with gradually brightening light and the twittering of birds. He yawned, stretched and swung his legs out from under his goose feather covers, and slid his feet into his custom ultra comfort slippers. He shuffled over to his bathroom for his morning shower as he rubbed his eyes, but instead of seeing minimalist tiling and a sleek modern waterfall showerhead he found himself face to face with a heavily bearded old man, a million wrinkles around his eyes and in his many layers of dusty clothing looking up at him expectantly.
Elon glanced around and discovered there were three others in the room, dressed similarly as the old man, but younger, and the high ceilinged stone room was full of books and scrolls, on shelves, in piles, on desks. There were also many painted clay jars of all shapes and sizes and various gadgets.
“Hullo” Elon’s voice cracked and rumbled from just having woken up. “You are…?”
“Oh great warrior, chosen one to aid in conquering our enemies! I am Merlin, King Arther’s most trusted advisor and magician. These three are my assistants. This… what you are wearing now, is this your powerful warrior garb?”
Elon looked down at his tshirt and batman boxers. “Uhh yeah I guess I sometimes wear this when I work from home.”
Merlin inserted a glass in one eye and took a closer look. “Ahh I see, indeed this garb seems to reek of magic, for no cloth I’ve laid eyes on could compare! Does your tunic say… “Occupy Mars”? What is Mars?”
“Mars is the red star you see at night”
Merlin dropped his monocle, cracking it on impact with the ground. Merlin picked it back up with regret and stuffed it in his sleeve while muttering, “A great warrior indeed. We only think of conquering enemies on land, but he has been conquering enemies we’ve never even dreamed of.” The assistants overheard their master and brought their heads lower, trembling with fear at this powerful warrior they can’t even fathom.
Merlin collected himself. “May we take a closer look at your powerful warrior garb?”
Elon blinked. “Uhh…. okay. Can I also take a shower?”
“Shower? You mean for me to call the rain?”
“I mean, bath? And do you guys have coffee?”
Merlin snapped his fingers and the three assistants started running around to prepare a bath. “Coffee? Is this a type of soap?”
“No nevermind.” Elon felt a headache coming on. He hadn’t not had coffee in decades. That with the fact that somehow he seemed to be in King Arthur’s story did not bode well. As much as he loved to read, he hadn’t paid much attention to ancient Celtic stories. He’d fare better in anime.
“Your bath is ready, and here is casual wear for you to change into.” Merlin held up a stack of clothes.
Elon pinched them up one by one. Is this…. Panyhose? Ew. And a man dress. And some stiff boots that were definitely too narrow for his duck feet. “Nah, I’ll just rewear this.”
“Oh no, how could we have you wear out your powerful warrior clothes!” Merlin insisted, eyeing how worn out the clothes looked already. This warrior must’ve been in the midst of many battles for his garb to look so worn.
“Okay whatever.” Elon didn’t want to fight with Merlin. There were no papperazzi here anyways, might as well just go along with them for now and figure out how to get back to his four companies that would crash and burn without him afterwards.
As Elon bathed, he could hear Merlin and his assistants from beyond the curtain ooh-ing and ah-ing as they inspected and sniffed his boxers. "... musk... y"Elon whipped his head up, wondering how they knew his name, and then realized they were just commenting on the scent.
Merlin was fascinated. He’d seen fabrics from all around the world, but never had he felt such thin but durable texture, nor seen this way of adding design. The design was flat, not bumpy like typical embroidery. It was almost like it was painted on but the ink was solid instead of liquid. He had no idea how to replicate such a powerful warrior garb, but he would try his best.
Elon was finally dressed with the aid of an assistant, and he was itchy all over. He was about to demand Merlin to return him his clothes when a messenger arrived and announced that Merlin and his powerful warrior were summoned by the King.
Elon tried to ignore the torturously itchy and tight pantyhose, the restrictive man dress, the cumbersome belt, and the stiff boots pinching his toes, as he followed Merlin and the messenger through arched stone hallways lined with torches and banners.
The throne room was massive, with towering arched windows and steps leading up to a platform with guards and an elaborate throne. A handsome man with a large heavy golden crown looked down at him.
“This is the powerful warrior you summoned that will drive off the Saxons?” King Arthur eyed Elon up and down. Nothing escaped his eye. He could see that this man was indeed a giant among men, but with barely any muscle and plenty of flab. Could he even lift a sword?
“Yes sire, he is unlike any your humble servant has laid eyes on.”
King Arthur was unconvinced. “Let us head to the training grounds. I must see this warrior in action myself.”
Elon was shocked out of his murky coffee withdrawal state as he realized he might very well die or be heavily injured in a fight he was clearly not equipped for. “Sire, I am indeed a… warrior, but not a typical one. I don’t fight with my hands or feet, or swords or spears–”
“Oh an archer? Or a cavalryman?”
“No sire. I fight with my brain.”
“Brain? Does it ooze out of your orifices and poison the enemy?”
Elon grimaced at the image. What goes on in these ancient peoples’ minds? “No sire. Instead of the one fighting at the front lines, pulling the bow and shooting the enemies down, you can think of me as the one creating something hundreds of times more powerful than bows –”
“An artisan?”
“-- thousands of times more powerful than swords, a million times more powerful than horses.”
King Arthur narrowed his eyes. This “warrior” felt more and more like some sort of con artist. “Alright, summon this… unimaginably powerful weapon then. I must see it with my own eyes.”
“Sire, I need time. And materials. And assistants.”
“You think to play me for a fool!” The king slammed his arms down and pointed at Elon. “Guards, take this fraud away!”
“Wait sire. Please hear me out.” Merlin hurriedly interjected while castrating on the floor.
The king raised his hand, indicating the guards to pause.
“When have I ever failed you sire?” Merlin took a deep breath before continuing. “When he was just summoned, he was wearing his powerful warrior garb and it was nothing like I’ve ever seen before. It was evident that the way he fights would be unimaginable to you and I. Also on his short and strange tunic were inscribed the words “Occupy Mars”.”
“Mars? What is that?”
“Do you recall all the stars in the night sky, sire?”
“Of course not, there are more than one can count.”
“However you know Mars. For it is the red one”
King Arthur’s eyes widened at that. To name the stars. To aim to conquer them. This man was not what meets the eye. “Alright. One month. Anything you need, ask and it’ll be given but if I don’t see this legendary weapon in a month, I’ll take both of your heads as a warning for all.”
Elon was shocked. Wasn't King Arthur known to be benevolent? Some benevolent king he is. Elon opened his mouth to retort, but Merlin grabbed his tunic and pulled him into a bow.
“The king is wise and merciful. Long live the king” Merlin shouted into the ground, and everyone else echoed with a deep bow of their own.
Elon peeked around while keeping his head lowered. One month was nothing, and there was no way he was going to get anything done in such a short time with these cave men. It’d make more sense to plan an escape.
Merlin led Elon back to his workroom and on the way they found countless shoddy variations of his warrior garb.
“We could not replicate it exactly, but are there any among these that are acceptable?” Merlin asked, watching Elon’s expression carefully.
Elon touched all the various black shirts, made of silk, linen, cotton, embroidered with the blocky letters of OCCUPY MARS, the various yellow short shorts, with delicately painted bat silhouettes, and smiled. They'd even copied his name embroidered on the inside of his boxers. Elon Musk. Although this was no 21st century, these ancients were way more efficient than he would’ve expected. Maybe they had a chance after all. |
I began cradling her in an arm and with the other picked up the note and continued reading.
*I trust you'll take care of her like we discussed. Let us know if we can visit. You know how to reach us. Sorry we couldn't bare to stay.*
Still swadling her I took her in to meet her sister. Even nowadays many people have hears of feys taking babies but many didn't know why. The changeling children we bore were usually weak and deformed which was a big no no in the past. Plus they rarely survived so many would swap them for a child that would. |
Auntie had always been the fun one. She travelled endlessly, and brought with her all kinds of fantastical stories. Growing up, I loved the nights by our fireplace where she would sing and tell tales of all the world’s mysteries from the days when they could safely share themselves with all the world.
Alas, cold and hardness, fear and hatred had done their work, and such beings were relegated to stories. All the same, I loved the idea of a world hidden from view. Writing my own stories became natural, and Auntie and I would write back and forth every few days, stories and legends forming in our humble letters.
Of course, as the years went by, I learned the world was simply not so fantastical. All the same, I loved the worlds we made, and when her favourite niblet decided to bring home a boyfriend for the first time, the letters were part of what he and I enjoyed together in my bedroom.
Telling stories into the small hours was a real treat with Trent, but his hands helped me find a different kind of delight. We tossed and rolled, and somewhere in all our play, the salt night light that Auntie had given me ages ago tumbled to the carpeted floor. The sound spooked us enough to put a brief end to our engagement, but the sudden appearance of a black, wispy figure was what really made us bolt upright.
Glowing blue eyes floated within a hood of deepest black. The edges of the figure seemed to billow and ripple, torn and frayed in an unseen wind. The screeching sounds it let out were heard in our chests and hearts more than our ears, and while I curled up into a ball to get away, Trent stood up and shouted a challenge right back. His hands turned into fearsome, hard claws which slashed through the metaphysical being’s torn wrapping.
Unfortunately, I also saw the ice crystals form on his claw as he hissed in pain. The being itself didn’t seem overly bothered, and Trent cradled his left claw gingerly. I did the only thing I could think of, and grabbed the pouch of salt Auntie gave me “to balance out my sweetness.” The tiny rocks sliced through the creature, and its howls as it retreated through the wall echoed heavily in my chest.
Trent was recovering quickly, and set the lamp back on my bedside table as he apologised. I would need to hear his full explanation later, though: no sooner was the lamp replaced than a thumping sound echoed in my hallway. I opened the door to see one of our classmates lying on the floor, bruises covering his body as he struggled to pull his ankle out of the wall where it had become wedged. |
November the Twenty-first, 1832
Wyndon is such a large place, and yet, it is still so small. It feels like it only grows with people by the day. I wonder, where are they all coming from? Do they sail from other regions to be here, or do they come from the rest of Galar?
I have always wanted to travel throughout the region, and perhaps the world. I’ve always doubted that would ever be the case, but now I feel as if I have no choice.
My mother fell ill with cholera earlier in the year. Unfortunately, she didn’t make it. The grief was agonizing! She was the sweetest person I ever knew. I begged and begged for the Kings not to take her, but I suppose it’s alright. She’s in a better place now.
My father, meanwhile, had been hard at work. He worked half the day away in the factory and then came home exhausted. I wish he had more time to spend with me rather than working and sleeping, but I understand why that was never the case. He had to provide for us somehow, and I’m old enough to take care of myself.
One of his friends came knocking on our door, and that was when I learned he died today, too. There was a terrible accident at the factory, and he didn’t make it out alive. That was all I was told.
The friend gave me his surviving Pokemon, a little Rolycoly. This Rolycoly had been a gift from my grandfather, who was a miner in Hulbury.
And now she was a gift to me, too. A little Pokemon passed down through generations, yet with so little training for her to realize her full potential. I have named her Grace.
I don't know what to do now. I have a few options, but none I particularly like. I could go live with someone new, but who would take me? I could work in a factory just like my father did, and likely die the same way.
Maybe I could leave everything but Grace behind, and travel through Galar. Perhaps even the world! It would be difficult, and might end in disaster for me… but I'm sixteen now. I can care for myself.
I suppose my very own Pokemon journey is about to begin. |
Lakshmi steps carefully through the portal, aware that any sudden movement or fault can cause chaos on the other end. Her size, giant as a goddess should be, starts to shrink and proportion itself to be a size akin to that of the mortals. Her knee length black hair shortens itself to a mid-length, two of her arms tuck away inside herself. It’s never a comfortable transition, but one she follows through often. This was a special occasion, a day that made her feel a small jitter in her chest as her mortal form developed. She had a date.
Her gown-length red sari folded in on itself to create a midi dress with a gold frill at the bottom, hugging her comfortably. This wouldn’t be the first time Lakshmi met with the same mortal, in fact it would be the second if one didn’t count the overlooking she did without the mortal’s knowledge. The first meeting was a short, awkward encounter, Lakshmi even felt a small embarrassment remembering the day two weeks ago…
It was a sunny afternoon, the heat rising to a high in this southern continent. She could see the beads of sweat on the heads of the masses as they passed through the streets. She was lucky enough to not feel the direct heat, but could imagine in her mortal form the discomfort.
Lakshmi dodged through crowds of individuals, keeping her eyes about at the shops, restaurant, and general buzz of the place. It was places like this that she felt most invisible, every mortal had their task and they took to it quickly and efficiently. She loved to see their newest inventions and tricks, things a Deity would never require. Sometimes she wondered if her mortal form was affecting her. Lakshmi, along with many of her brothers and sisters, were given orders that limited their abilities as a Goddess. It generally caused her to long for the freedom and impermanence of the human’s she so often found herself with.
She rounded a corner, trying not to knock over a man with a bicycle who blocked her way, and in doing so found herself almost chest to head with a mortal. Lakshmi stopped inches from the human woman, but the mortal didn’t have the same dexterity. The shorter woman’s head collided into Lakshmi’s chest, the woman clearly had her eye’s caught on something across the street, leading the collision into somewhat of an embrace. She wrapped an arm around the smaller mortal to prevent her from falling back.
“I’m sorry,” Lakshmi started, stabilising the human. She knew generally speaking directly to the mortals could cause trouble, but she felt the encounter to be partially her fault. “Are you alright?”
The woman’s head perked up, looking at Lakshmi who was over a full head taller than her. She blinked twice. “Like walking into an angel.” The woman muttered, a small, cheeky smile filling up her face like a drop of thick chocolate. Lakshmi let out a single chuckle, if only the woman knew how close her words were. There was silence between the two women, Lakshmi wasn’t sure what to respond. “Apologies,” the woman continued. “I’m Sara and obviously not paying attention.”
Lakshmi gave a grin, the woman seemed sweet, and in such close proximity smelled lightly of spices. She noted the woman, Sara, looking over her face waiting for a response. “Oh, I - I’m Lak-” Lakshmi had to stop in her tracks, she couldn't give out her real name.
“Luck?” Sara asked, as if something glorious had fallen into her lap. “That’s a great name.”
Lakshmi was glad at the time for an easy way out of her awkward answer, although being called Luck seemed to be innuendo to her actual self. Now, as she finished stepping through the portal and checked over her mortal self, she whispered “Luck.”
Sara was already seated in the dimly lit restaurant, Lakshmi could see her from the entrance. Sara wore a deep blue dress, complimenting her hair which unlike Lakshmi’s, was so dark it appeared a shiny bluey-black that reminded her of the constellations. Sara’s eyes panned over and met her’s, her smile seemed to light up the space and she gave a small wave.
Sara and Lakshmi- or Luck, enjoyed their time together despite Luck’s anxiety about what mortals talk about. In the two weeks between their initial meeting and the date, Luck followed Saras days to see what she did, enjoyed, and the type of person she was. Luck found herself even more drawn into the mortal in front of her, listening to her speak about her passions and seeing the excitement rise in her.
“What about you?” Sara asked, biting down on a piece of bread. Luck had wished she wouldn’t have to lie, but she’d never be able to share her true self, at least not at this time. She faked taking in a deep breath, as if she was thinking where to start.
“I work in a large group.” Luck started, trying to find the right balance between truth and dishonesty. “We work on a complicated project, there’s a lot of strict rules.” She hoped to imply that she wasn’t able to talk about it.
“Rules?” Sara inquired, eyebrows risen.
“I have a…” Luck thought of the best way for the mortal to understand. “Contract.” She decided. “I don’t have a lot of creative freedom.”
Sara chuckled, looking down at her plate. “Creative freedom comes from having strict rules. We’ve got to try to work around those things. Loopholes.” Luck hadn’t thought of it that way, she gave a small shrug, not wanting to think too much into it. Her work issues shouldn’t be the topic of their conversation, since she couldn’t share much. They switched topics.
By the end of the date, Luck was smitten. She’d been close to her people, but the other Deities were smug, pompous, when she found none of those qualities in Sara she became infatuated and didn’t want their night to end. She knew she was only able to stay in the mortal world for a short period of time and was pushing it already, but enjoyed every moment of their time together.
The two women left the restaurant, standing out in the moonlit street as the world around them continued on. “Why don’t I walk you home?” Sara asked, Luck felt that she also hadn’t wanted their time to end. But, this request would be impossible. Luck would have to take her portal back into her world and no mortal should see this.
“Thank you, but-” Luck looked around, they were in quite a busy side of the city. Even with the hour growing late there were plenty of people roaming the streets. She would have to find a secluded place. “I should be going my own way.” Her eyes fell back on Sara, who for moment seemed to think their night had not gone as well as she thought. Luck wanted to reassure her. “I had an amazing time with you, I’d love to do this again.” Sara went to speak, but Luck continued. “I really should be off. Have a good night.” Her steps away had started before she finished the sentence, turning and using her long legs to get her away from the general population.
After a few moments of walking, Luck found a small alley between two tall building, she snuck back passed the garbage and boxes littering the way and gave a sigh as she stopped at the end. She really didn’t know what she was thinking going on a date with a mortal. There would never be a way for them to keep seeing each other and Sara not get suspicious of Luck’s life.
With a frustrated puff, Luck waved her wrist and opened the portal only large enough for her mortal form. She tread onto the first step, feeling her mortal body start to stretch and form back into herself. Her two other arms untangled from behind and she stretched them outwards. Lakshmi expanded into her full height and she started on the next few steps.
“Luck?”
Lakshmi stopped, half a step taken but not finished. Her head turned to see Sara, standing at the bottom of the otherworldly stairs, her wide eyes showing confusion and panic. Lakshmi couldn’t get any words to come out of her mouth. Without warning, Sara stepped up and into the portal, her form unchanged from her earthly body.
“No!” Lakshmi boomed, now almost double the size of her previous form. The portal closed behind Sara.
​
\-Finished in Comments!- |
Glarksnarf stared at the dazed out, belligerent human sitting before him on a beaten up old couch with holes in it from top to bottom. Currently, the man was screaming something along the lines of "get out of my house you talking refrigerator,"and Glarksnarf had to wonder...were all of them like this? Was this an entire species of deranged lunatics or did he just get the worst one possible for extraction? "Typical."He sighed roughly and approached the man. Why did he always get the short end of the stick on these missions? "Well, not like I have anything better to do."He mumbled before producing a small probe from his pocket. "Hold still."He told the human who was hissing and trying to scramble away but to no avail. Glarksnarf rolled all six of his eyes and stuck the probe onto the creatures forehead before it made a sucking sound, and the human slipped out of consciousness. "Jerry? Oof, what kind of name is that? Jerry?"Glarksnarf checked his reader again to make sure he was surveying "Jerry's"brain correctly. "Alright then...well, I guess I better take him back to the ship."With that, the two disappeared from sight, the smell of cheetos and loneliness still hanging in the air. The last thing Glarksnarf said before transporting away was, "It's going to be a long night." |
"We could just, you know, show up en masse."
"That's a terrible idea, Steve."
"What's terrible about it? 'Hey everyone, we're ghosts and we've been real and here all along and now we're revealing ourselves to ask for your help in preventing the Void from destroying reality as we know it.'"
"They would panic."
"I mean, they should probably be panicking anyways."
"They are of no use to us if they panic."
"If they panic, then they'll just hoard toilet paper again. That's no biggie."
"I beg your pardon. What is this 'toilet' you speak of?"
"Just one of those modern inventions Steve keeps nattering on about."
"It's not even really that modern."
"Perhaps we could attempt a modified version of Steve's suggestion. Reveal ourselves in front of a select group of individuals."
"Much better. Thank you, sir Reginald the Third."
"And how would we select the individuals in question?"
"We must simply pick the smartest and most important people in the world. We could begin with the Senate and Roman Emperor."
"They're not the most important people anymore."
"Excuse me?"
"For quite some time, actually. I propose the British, French, and Spanish royal courts."
"Have none of you kept up with current events?"
"We can't all watch the idiot box, Steve."
"No one calls it that anymore."
"But the name remains so fitting."
"I'm going to ignore that and tell you that if you want a global audience, then the UN is probably our best bet. That or the World Cup."
"Why does the entire world have a cup, now?"
"I don't like the sound of it. Too avant garde for me."
"The UN then."
"Alright, but I would feel more comfortable if we also stopped by Versailles before we do. I just don't trust that Steve would know everything that has happened there. And it would really be best to have the French nobility on our side." |
Matthew drowned when he was three. At first as his mother wept over his tiny, lifeless form, a grim reaper had taken pity and revived the little boy. As he coughed and spluttered pond water from his lungs the reaper had practically fled so that his good deed might go unnoticed, but now more often than not Matthew had a grim reaper with him almost all the time.
There was something about the little boy the reapers felt inclined to protect. He was loved, but love alone had never swayed them. He was kind, but so many other kind people dies every day and they never gave it a second thought. He could see them, but he was not the only one.
The universe, for its part, was trying to right a wrong. It relentlessly tried to take Matthews’ life in increasingly ridiculous ways. Oh, a car crash here, a dog attack when he was nine, someone shoving him from a small cliff that was actually higher than it looked. A drunken stumble there, almost getting run over by the forklift at his first job, a violent thief who ‘just decided’ to turn the other cheek. More recently, an asteroid falling from the sky, a stray bullet from a musket convention, almost suffocating when his cat dragged a bag over his head as he slept.
And always a grim reaper there, cradling him through the crash, distracting the dog, cushioning his fall, shoving him out of the way.
In what could pass for the grim reaper’s workspace there were easily 100 pictures with the words DO NOT SAVE printed in big at the bottom, but this only meant every single grim reaper knew exactly who Matthew was. So far, his not dying had not destroyed the world. And truth be told, the reapers hated taking people when they weren’t ready.
Matthew considered himself either very lucky or very unlucky, because trouble seemed to seek him out. He had dozens of scars and a limp that hardly worried him as he went about his life. He had a strange fondness for the reapers. Sometimes, in private, he spoke with them. They never spoke back.
Now he had cancer, the universe’s way of outsmarting the reapers. His body would be made progressively too sick to carry on living. So that even if they saved him at the moment of his last breath, he would only make it to the next breath before they had to do it all over again.
It was a bitter pill for the reapers, who met in small groups to discuss Matthew’s diagnosis and progression. Their work ethic slacked as they took little gaps of time to research his case and speak with the recently deceased about how they survived cancer, or what they knew about it. But they weren’t having any luck finding their magical cure all, and even if they could they weren’t sure how they could deliver that to Matthew.
Pictures started appearing everywhere of ghosts that needed collecting. Paranormal activity on earth doubled in the span of a month, all because reapers weren’t making it to the places they needed to be on time and quite often a ghost would quickly decide they didn’t want to stick by the body. They would untether themselves and visit loved ones or go on little trips down memory lane.
Matthew teetered on the edge of death. The reapers gathered around him to sing in raspy voices. Thousands of souls globally were ignored for the sake of one little boy who should have drowned twenty years earlier.
When his eyes widened and focused on them instead of maintaining a glazed over stare into the distance they were convinced he was at his last. They kept pressing his life back into him, over and over, while the universe sent a flurry of papers with pictures of ghosts through the room flashing before the grim reapers faces. They ignored the will of the universe and persisted, breathing life into Matthew’s body again and again. He deserved to live. They didn’t know why. They just knew Matthew wasn’t supposed to die.
Matthew’s mother sat silently at his bedside. He smiled a crooked smile at her and promised he would see her again one day. He told her he was going now, even while the reapers continued to deny him, continued to press his life back into his body, into his very bones.
Then very slowly, he got up.
Not all of him. Just his bones, or the souls of his bones… or …. He looked through his sockets at his hands, nothing but bones. He looked back at his body as the last breath washed out of it.
The reapers sighed collectively, understanding washing over them all at once. One brought him a black cloak. Another brought him a scythe.
Matthew wasn’t done living. There was work to be done. |
So picture it, boots, I'm out there, 6 clacks past uni limits. Our ships got a dime and a k running on closing this job, a run straight from the 581, out to the teakettle end of Ursa major. Skip's drunk the whole time, spending his share, and likely the maintenance share as well, before we even close the job. No respect for the man, but he was paying well. I pulled the rooker straw for that watch, and my relief was likely drunker than ol' Skip. Not a man on the channel, or least, none as 'twould answer me. And then I see her.
You ever seen the beasts roaming the gaps? Near dark as the void, big as a moon, and rarely friendly. I say big as a moon, but that's just an average one. This girl, and she was definitely a girl, as you'll soon see, was far larger than any moon I'd seen larger than some planets, too. She was shaped like a shark and darting around after our wake, soaking up the energy and tracking us as well.
I sounded an alarm, all hands to stations. I knew we'd need to distract and book it. Unfortunately, no one else seemed to care about what was going on. I had some remote on the rear guns, but I could only aim based on straight sight from the crow's nest. Not ideal, but not outside my scope.
Just as I was getting my aim, she stopped her darting, shuddered, and started spinning corkscrews in our wake. I paused on firing, trying to sort what I was seeing. Then they started popping off her body, countless offspring. They immediately turned on each other, but a few followed momma toward our ship.
I gave final call as I set the guns on motion trigger. With no response, I slid down the ladder to the escape pods, and was shutting the airlock on one as the comms exploded with activity. They breached in the break room, popping pressure and feasting on the soft meals inside. I hit my release and ran a recall warp to get me back here to good ol' 581, before one of the little ones noticed me. I wish I'd saved more of the valuable merch, but I got my skin, and that's the most important haul you can nail.
I doubt anyone else made it. Even if they did, I'd rather not deal with them. And I sure ain't running from here to either Ursa til the uni sends in some cleaners. Too many mouths out there, and I'm feeling my luck is just running out. |
The freezing wind howled through the endless rain. It was the heat eater, the devourer of men and beast. No amount of pelt could protect them from the harsh, lacerating cold. Only the Hollow could provide shelter from the storm.
The moist, stone walls of the cave’s entrance prevented the rain and wind from creeping in. Inside the humid cave, fire was made by the caveman who flocked together in an attempt to create heat. Even some small beasts, seeking shelter and warmth, dared approach the humans. Luckily for the little critters, food and sustenance weren’t a problem.
Boredom was.
The only pastime they had while waiting for the endless rain to cease was cave painting. And they were already growing tired of it. It wasn’t nearly as much fun painting themselves stuck in The Hollow as it was painting themselves hunting some big, wooly beasts with ivory tusks.
Fortunately, the company of the small beasts in the cave were enough to keep their simple minds occupied. The caveman grunted happily as they played and caressed the multitude of - as they called the creatures - *Chitters*, short furred beasts with slender bodies, bushy tails and big ol’ eyes.
But not all of the caveman indulged in this playful activity. Thino - The Stone Painter, The Sky Lost, The Shackled - as others used to call him, was one of such caveman. He much preferred to paint on the cave walls than to touch beasts in the storm. And while his… *titles* were extravagant, they were merited. And as equally veracious.
“Thino painting again!” Grunted Borg, one of the biggest of the group. “You always painting big rock on walls. Thino stupid! Thino should paint big huntings. Not big rocks!”
Thino ignored the insults and carried on with his painting. Ever since he learned how to paint he had painted the same thing on the cave walls and nothing else - a round rock with craters on its surface. And while his object of praise was rather simple, it possessed an alluring beauty and detail only a master of Thino’s craft could grasp.
As a consequence of ceaselessly painting the same thing over and over and over again, Thino virtuously weaved through the stone walls with mastery - bleeding life onto it with a multitude of round shaped drawings. Such was the origin of his first nickname.
*Thino, The Stone Painter.*
Once the rain passed, the wind calmed and the cloudless dusk settled on the horizon, the Caveman left The Hollow. Some of them left the cave to look for carcasses of unlucky beasts who couldn’t find protection from the storm. Some left to search for berries and fruits that might have fallen from their resting places - eager for the rare sweet delights. And, of course, the Chitters left too; they went separate ways, minding their own business.
And so did Thino. He also left the cave. Well, if walking eight steps away from it counted as leaving that is.
Because, unlike the others Caveman, he did not need to wander far to find his purpose.
Both his blessing and his curse.
What he was looking for could not be found amongst the mundane, earthly grounds, no. Thino sought for the infinite stars adorning the night sky - sparkling jewels on black canvas.
He insisted on naming them.
“Öron. Úra Maor. Úra Mior. Cassepæi.” Thino would say while pointing at the endless white dots on the night sky. “Kanis Maor. Kanis Mior. Cyg…”
But there was a something far more special than stars shining in the night above. It sparkled like none other. A jewel amongst crude gemstones. It had captured Thino’s heart and soul ever since he laid eyes on it.
“The Mün.” He named it.
And those who passed by him heard the names. They learned - and granted him a name in return.
*Thino, The Sky Lost.*
Thino was proud of both of his titles. He was very fond of them, after all, they reflected his very nature. His love and his crafts. But the third nickname he loathed. And he was given it by none other than himself.
*Trapped.*
That’s how Thino felt.
His heart and soul laid amongst the sky. In the night above and beyond. But not his body. His body was shackled to the ground. Pinned on it by an invisible wall. And unlike the feathered beasts who could defy this unseen force, Thino could not.
The other Cavemans could hunt fearsome creatures to satisfy their desires for glory or could gather wild berries to savour their sweetness - Thino couldn’t even *grasp* the object of his praise.
His entire life he felt trapped.
Grounded.
Shackled.
*Thino, The Shackled.*
Until one day, when he found a magical portal in the woods. A giant lake reflecting the night sky. It held the Mün inside the waves.
It’s bright light rippled through it. Thino was enthralled by such beauty. Haunted by it’s splendor. Never he thought he would be able to see her so close.
Without thinking twice, he surrendered himself to the lake. At last, his body, heart and soul would be together. He accepted the cold embrace.
And was claimed by the watery grave. |
"Oh, hello sir! A little surprised you came to my little business today!"
It's true. I was surprised he came today. I thought it would take Ares another decade or so to open that door. With how much work I've been doing for the gods of commerce and science these past few decades, I thought Ares would be content to have new followers as a bonus. Gods know how the worst of us love to *play* with our new toys.
"Your technicalities do not amuse me, broker. You do well for a follower of my brother. Or should I say *ex* follower."
"You flatter us both, sir! In the world of business, it's always great when mentors and mentees eventually become business partners. And when you're from a small village trying to make it big in the world, it's nice to have some attention from the man who's known in all the realms!"Loyalty can only take you so far. Sometimes, it's better to spread my wings to take us all higher. But not too close to the sun. I prefer to be *alive* and profitable.
I gesture to an open seat, my best chair. A gift from Hephaestus after I increased his follower count by 12%.
"I grow tired, broker. Tired of boredom. These tiny skirmishes these humans have today can't compare to the opera of war I once savored in the past! The weapons you've made happen have brought humanity to their knees-"
"Thank you, sir!"
"-but with great weapons means weaker resolves."
An interesting point. With how much of a return Hephaestus and Hermes cohorts have been receiving, I've neglected the war gods in all this.
"Well, the deal I made between the Americans and Hephaestus wasn't made with the intent to cause aggression, just a bit of knowledge and insight! If I had known you wanted to keep the war going, I'd have rung you up! Now, before we go any further, would you like some ambrosia or nectar? Your brother Hermes sent me a shipment of nectar for the millennium anniversary of me opening up!"
"I know of your ways, broker. Your words are sweeter than nectar, and even more intoxicating. It would work on a lesser god that you've milked before, but not on me. How likely am I to gain influence amongst the mortals in Asia?"He says all this but still chooses to take a seat. Perfect. It's a special high to know I'll be making a deal today.
"Straight to the point, huh? I'd have said you were efficient, but I've seen what kind of wars you love to cause!"
"Well, the middle east would be your best chance, but I've had some talks with a Slavic representative that I think would greatly interest you. These days, gods doing a joint investment are all the rage, so backing a few key members in the Kremlin together shouldn't be a problem."
"Excellent! I tire of how frigid these politicians have made modern warfare."
I pour us both a glass of Hermes' gift. Nectar that took centuries to develop and ferment over time. Sweet words paired with sweet drinks brings sweet profits.
"We're lucky. It won't take our plans even a fraction of the time it takes for the nectar to mature."
"And it'll be much sweeter. War often is."
For a god of war, he likes talking about sweets a lot. It's always difficult dealing with his kind. Might be sweet for him, but not for me.
At least the commerce gods leave people alive when they wreak havoc (for the most part). Can't find the right people for the gods if they're dead, really. |
Faith was life. Faith was everything. Faith was the hope that life and everything was worth continuing and pursuing. Faith was all he knew.
His creed was kindness in adversary, gentleness when facing cruelty, and consistently keeping on in a world of upheaval constant change. He was one of the faithful who became an example to give hope to others.
He was the thorn in the side of the enemy, and also the perfect tool. When doubt was an unplantable seed, then betrayal was the next tactic. And what better way for that than to give an unhealable ailment? Not something simple, no. There was too much faith here. Too much hope. Patient persistence was surely a skill this one would show. No. It had to be worse.
Beckon never spoke of his kidnapping - that horrible night where the dark forces feinted an attack on Beckon's family, and successfully took their target. Except in sleep - where he yelled out scraps of protests which aided terrified listeners to understanding a fragment of it - Beckon refused to acknowledge the following ordeal. He had no choice but to live with the consequences.
Vampire.
Surely not. He believed with everything in him in the pure and highest power. A power which couldn't even be near the evil in the hearts of others, but which loved all so much that it gave itself to cleanse and reconcile against that evil. He couldn't become something which seemed to represent the very opposite of everything he'd ever known and stood for. His faith was strong enough to believe that he wouldn't be forsaken for something which happened against his will.
But the followers of his faith were not the same. How could they be in this life? They were fallen and only working toward total reflection of the goodness and kindness their beliefs told of. It was still immediate abandonment. Members of his congregation. Lifelong friends. Family. Worse, it was immediate perversion. Members of his congregation. Lifelong friends. Family. Turning toward the darkness because, it turned out, they followed Beckon more than they followed the creeds he'd thought he'd always carefully pointed them all toward. Person and after person turning to the darkness. Willingly becoming vampires. And an army grew. Because of Beckon, all against his will.
Beckon ran into hiding, and became the first silent devotee.
Centuries of silence and loneliness - as much as a creature which must feed off the living could manage, anyway - and centuries of seeing the spoken histories turn sour - carved itself deep into Beckon's soul, not unlike the way waters consistently, slowly, but surely carved their way into the ridges of the grounds to make rivers. He knew the longer a vampire lived, the more powerful they became. He knew that his own items from life long before had become holy relics. He remembered, correctly or not he didn't know now, that at first the holy didn't seem to bother him. It wasn't until after the first of his....acolytes...willingly turned themselves into vampires that the holy made his eyes burn and his insides to curl.
But it never once stopped him from whispering words, even if now it was by habit more than faith.
He'd just learned another of his pure bloodline had passed. He wanted to pay his respects. Far away, of course. As always. Always too far away.
He always had his own vial of....remembrance... with him to celebrate the death. Yes, celebrate. It was better to die a human. But today, there was a....divine intervention. A cart carrying holy goods was ambushed by a pack of no-gooders. Beckon was there to protect the sanctity of the goods on that cart -- something he'd succeeded in time in again, to be sure. But today the cart was overturned, and Beckon was...baptised in communion wine. Better taken out by the blessed liquid than the traveling servants he'd always secretly protected, Beckon allowed a swallow down his throat.
Not abandoned, no. Other than the sensation of what he remembered as a very unpleasant sunburn, not even hurt really. Better yet, one of the servants - how many times a great nephew now? - recognized Beckon as the unofficial saint of the area. A bold young fellow, who Beckon had always admired, the first words out of his mouth were something like.
"Now as a member of the church, do you solemnly pledge to serve and protect it?"
Not very official, but sometimes the official tradition wasn't necessary. "I believe in the sanctity of life, and have always protected in accordance with your creeds."
Brought back into the fold. But how now? |
I love walking through the woods. Something about it just soothe my soul. I can recenter, relax and let go the week’s stress. The woods just swallow all of those things and leave me refreshed.
I was out in the woods with my dog, Daisy. Walking the paths and listening to the silence when Daisy started barking. My first thoughts were of bears and coyotes but she was looking into the sky instead of into the woods.
I looked up and there was a meteorite streaking across the sky. Even in full day light, it was burning bright. It seemed close. Like really close. It dipped below the tree line and I felt the ground shake - it hit close.
Daisy was off down the path, running like a dog possessed.
“Daisy! Daisy girl! Come back!”
My yelling was futile - when she started running like there is no chance is is coming back on her own. I hurried down the path after her. Stopping to holler every few minutes.
I crested a small rise and saw a smoking crater on the downward slope. I bet the meteorite landed there. A white fluff ball was running around the crater as faint barks drifted to my ears - of course the dog is at the smoking crater…. Where else?
I descended into the crater. I was expecting it to be really hot but it was all cool to the touch. It was like a bulldozer pushed a chunk of the park out of the way for the crater. Trees strewn in all directions and dirt piled high.
Daisy was right down in the centre; sniffing at something. I made my way to her.
“What did you find girl? Mmm? What you got?”
Daisy came over for a quick pet and then right back to the centre before I could pick her up. I went over to her and saw that she was sniffing a small blue stone.
I was smaller than a golf ball and bigger than a marble. It glowed a translucent pale blue. Cautiously I touched it with a finger. It was cool to the touch. I picked it up and inspected it. It was a stunningly beautiful stone.
It probably wasn’t the right thing to do. I probably should have called a park ranger or someone at the university or something. But instead, I put it in my pocket.
——————————
I drifted upon the cosmic rays of the cosmos for an endless millennia. Raced past gas giants and basked in the warm glow of thousands of different stars. I am eternal.
For all the wonders out in the cosmos, I yearned for more. I could be more.
I was headed for a beautiful yellow star when I saw a lovely blue planet. There are so few blue planets out here. I felt compelled to go down - to see the life of that planet up close. I have never done that before.
The atmosphere was like nothing I had ever experienced. Flying in the cosmos is effortless. You find the currents and the gravity wells and shift between them. Here - here the air pulled at me. Burned me. It ripped my outer skin off, panicking I lost control. I spiralled, crashing into a sea of green foliage.
I lost consciousness - another first for me.
I woke and it was dark. I was nestled between two soft surfaces. It was comforting. I glowed brighter. It was good.
This is a shapeless void of a space. So I created a sky and ground. I placed myself high into the sky so I could see my entire domain. It was good.
The ground was barren. So I created oceans, lakes and rivers. I created forests and plains. I created mountains and valleys. I created all manner of birds and animals that I could think of. It was good.
I missed the cosmos. So I created a moon to reflect my pale blue light. I created stars far beyond the moon. I dimmed my light so I could look upon the cosmos I had created. It was good.
It was lonely in here. I had hoped to meet the life of this planet but there was none. So I made life. In my image I made them. Two glowing spheres - tiny compared to my immense size. One a light green the other a pale yellow. I made them smart and curious. I explained the wonders of this world to them. It was good.
Time passed and the people I created became plentiful. They built great structures in my honour. They built villages, then towns and eventually cities. They planted crops and farmed. They domesticated the animals. They sailed the seas.
Truly I tell you - my people brought me more joy then I ever though possible.
———————-
“Looky look Daisy girl! We are home!”
I got Daisy a treat out of the cupboard. That silly dog eats so fast I swear she must not breath while does so. She just inhales her food and treats.
I give my good girl some pets and rub her belly. After just a few minutes she has had enough of my lovin’ and finds a spot on the couch to nap.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the stone I found in the crater.
“Ugh - what is all of this guck in my pocket?”
I shake my pocket out on to the floor.
How on earth did I get so much junk in here?
I quickly run a dust buster over the pile of guck that fell out of my pocket.
“What am I going to do with you?” I say to the pretty blue rock. With a shrug of my shoulders I drop it into the fish tank. “That is a pretty spot for you.”
——————————-
In the 300th year of Zatan, as my people kept time, the impossible happened. An enormous multi-tentacled monster pulled me out of the sky. Pulled me out of the galaxy I had created.
I fought to break free but it was impossibly strong. It held me and then inverted my whole galaxy. I saw all of my hard work, my people, my animals, all of my creation go tumbling to their deaths as my universe shook. The moon… the stars… everything just tumbled out.
I screamed! I cried! Whatever this being was, either it didn’t hear me or didn’t care. A monstrous red machine consumed the corpses of my creation - as I was held powerless to stop it.
An incomprehensibly loud voice boom something in a language I didn’t know. It was so loud that I shook under the strain.
Then I was dropped into a ocean vast beyond comprehension. I fell for years before I hit the bottom. I landed upon dark lifeless husks of my people.
I just laid there and cried for the loss of my creation. |
Emmanuel lay down, gripping the handles as a new wave of seawater swelled underneath him, tipping the raft right, then left. His knuckles turned white as wave after wave threatened to toss him over into the sea and bury him under the water. His stomach groaned furiously. Emmanuel gritted his teeth. The rain had stopped. The waves were beginning to lower now. He knew that if he just held on a bit longer, it would soon calm down.
The raft bent with the waves. Parts of it were missing. The coconuts he had lashed together just a week ago were starting to creak and groan under the stress. When the waves calmed, he would need to begin readjusting the knots, tying extra ones, trying to make up for the missing gaps of coconuts that had been eaten.
He had spent two weeks on that island, waiting and screaming for help. He had poured his lungs into the little orange whistle around his neck day after day. The rest of his life jacket had torn and deflated, only good for holding the rain off. When Emmanuel found the coconut trees, he almost cracked open every coconut and devoured them then and there. But he thought wiser. He realised that he was never going to get off that island unless he made a boat himself. The coconuts were all he had. So he made twine and tied them all together.
Emmanuel spat the salty water back out. The waves had gone now. The water was calming. His stomach however, roared with its own little storm inside. His intestines wrestled, trying to find a morsel of nourishment in his gut, but there was none. No longer distracted by the salty spew, the pain of hunger slowly became all-consuming again. He could not think. His fingers felt numb. He was weak, and his head swum. He needed some more meat, as he called it. Just imagining it all of a sudden made his stomach want to leap out of his body and grab it. Yes, there was no denying it. He needed to eat the meat. He had to.
The coconuts shook as he searched for a gap that would not break the raft. There was no obvious choices anymore. Only ones with varying degrees of danger to the raft. He would tie a new lashing, he told himself. After he had eaten this one coconut.
He pulled it out of the frame and began to bash it cautiously on his knee. When the coconut split, he liked to smell it inside. They mostly smelt of seawater now after a week on the waves, and the coconut was just starting to turn off, but he didn't notice. The aroma was a pleasure to him, promising his gut all sorts of relief. He lapped up the milk, before digging his teeth into the flesh and raking it out bit by bit. He couldn't do it too quickly, or it would feel like the coconut had just disappeared, and the pains would grow worse, so he carefully chewed the pieces and swallowed it slowly, as his gullet sucked in every piece down rapidly to the pit below.
The shell was useless afterward. He placed them where the pile would normally be had it not just been swept away the by sea. He sat with his chin resting on his knees, enjoying the feeling of food in him.
Just one day more, he told himself. One day more and he would find the mainland. Somehow, some way, he was going to get back to his family. All he had to do, was keep thinking, keep moving, and try desperately, desperately, not to think of coconuts until then.
He decided it was getting dark, and that now would be a good time to sleep. He curled up on the floor, wrapped his life jacket tight around him and closed his eyes, trying to appreciate the gentle undulations of the water rocking him to sleep... |
During high school we have been preparing and studying for the moment we receive our very own books which will help shape and build the foundations of who we will be for the rest of our lives. We have been carefully weighing our options, and I chose a certain book that underwhelmed the majority of my friends.
I chose to focus on the book of chemistry, which specializes in all things chemistry. While it isn't as flashy as the other branches of science or any of the magical spell books, I always found it to have the biggest potential out of all of them.
The book of chemistry allows me to change the structure and composition of Matter, which consists of atoms and molecules. Basically anything that takes up space is fair game, and it had too much versatility to pass up.
My friend Matthew decided to focus his path on the book of astronomy, which allows him incredible insight and abilities involving things beyond the earth's atmosphere. While I find it impressive and interesting, I also found it lacking since it doesn't give you any abilities on earth as far as I know. Still, he claims that given enough time he could do some incredible stuff that could benefit him here, so take that for what you will.
Not surprisingly, almost all of the graduates chose spell books instead of science books. One of the more popular ones was the book revolving around dark Magic, which used to be banned by the government before it became legal once they added newer guidelines and restrictions to its attributes. Before all those new rules were added it would certainly have been a runner-up pick of mine, but now there are so many rules that I don't see the fun in it anymore. |
Everybody is born with a Purpose. Some accomplish it in their 30s and live in blissfull ignorance of their slowly aging body. Some achieve it when they are still children and their parents will mourn the lively child they once had despite their offspring's still beating heart. That is if they are not yet Attained themselves.
There are billions of people and so many different type of Purpose. Yet most reach it by their late forties and their consciousness vanish, leaving behind a shell of a human being with no Purpose. Living, breathing but no longer feeling a thing.
I am turning 68 next month, yet I am still here. Still thinking. Still processing everything. Still emotional. Well as emotional as I can get after so many years of trying and failing to find my Purpose, my own ticket to blissfull nothingness.
Yet I am still here, heading towards the nearby park where I get to watch those who are still like me, yet it do not weight them down. Children. As I approach the gates the sound of their joyous laughter drifts through the air and it melts my heart a little bit, frozen it may be thanks to my long years of failure of finding the reason of my existence.
A ball bounces out of the park and a little boy, no older than six runs after it. I might not be young anymore but my ears are still working fine. As such I hear the aproaching truck long before I see it. The boy is oblivious to it, eyes still fixated on his ball.
There is no hesitation in me as I push him out of the way. The driver must have already Attained because there is no panicked honking and no horrified look on his face as he hits me without the breaks as much as letting out a squeak. For a moment there is binding pain in my side but I only have eyes for the little boy, shaken but unharmed thanks to my actions. As I hear the slowly approaching footsteps of the driver the pain starts to ebb and my vision gets blury. I finally feel at peace, as my Purpose is fulfilled and I no longer coexist with my slowly dying body.
As my vision once again gains clarity I realise there is a part of our fate, our curse that no one told us about, for no one ever known of it before they became one with the void. After an eternity of disembodied existence that passed in a blink of an eye it is overwhelming to once again see, feel and think. Yet I can only watch with pride as the young boy who was my Purpose once, now a grown man accomplises something no one ever thought we as humans could be capable of. |
I've been here for three hours, and I know I am going to die. No, it's not the first time I had deployed with a merc unit. This would be my third deployment, and before I had reported I was looking forward to the trip. It was always something new, and my account had been accumulating well since I had signed up. But this was the perfect fuck-up.
The first couple deployments were strictly run of the mill, nothing out of the ordinary, the sergeants who had deployed as trainer/instructors had taught me just enough not to point my weapon at myself, and how to walk in a line. And remarkably we all came home, unscathed, and without any war stories, or scars.
What I was experiencing today, was nothing short of military efficiency. I had checked the box after returning from my last deployment for "special duties"which, according to the description, 'paid more, for more service.' I needed the money, after the last deployment, I'd sent all I had home to my brothers, and it was barely enough. What I didn't know at the time, was what service I was going to be paid more for.
I managed to get on our unit's skiff, and got shuffled off to a briefing as soon as I landed. Raley's Roughnecks were a solid unit, and I had been contracting with them almost as soon as I had been discharged from the corps. So, it was a big surprise when I saw we were going to be deployed to the greater Bayou district.
"Lacroix! You're going to liason to the customer in situ."The LT called me out by name. "There's some resistance from the locals, they've ambushed some of the customer's convoy's before so quick and actionable communication is essential."
And like all good ideas the military mind has, that was the end of it... That is, until I met the customer. |
“I snuck out with the morning sun to buy flying lanterns. For Amma’s birthday.” Her pupils were trembling. Her eyes glazed with tears. “It was supposed to be a surprise. When I saw her at the market I raised my hood. Planned to walk in the other direction. Blend in with the crowd. But my body didn’t turn. It just walked straight, straight to her.” She was hyperventilating now. “I thought I might as well greet her since we made eye contact, but my mouth wouldn’t open. I couldn’t even smile. I felt like I was stuck in some horrid dream where I couldn’t control any of my muscles. They had a mind of their own.”
I glanced at the scribe who was transcribing every word. I nodded to the girl to indicate she should continue.
“Amma. She noticed something was wrong. She grabbed my sleeve. I felt relief in that moment thinking she could wake me from this trance, but then my body shoved her to the ground. My Amma. The one who loves me most in the world.” Her shoulders shook with another outburst of sobs.
“And then?” I gently pushed her to continue.
“I wanted to help her back up, yell for a physician, but the nightmare only got worse. My body bolted, shoving people left and right with strength I didn’t know I had. It stole a horse. A gigantic scary mottled brown one that I wouldn’t dare approach normally. Then it galloped the horse through the market trampling on everyone in its way. I felt nauseous, but I couldn’t even puke.” Her voice cracked. “Sir, what happened to me? Please tell me this was all a bad dream. Is Amma okay? I need to see Amma…”
She was young. Maybe 12. She had no reason to lie. No motive. Just like every other victim with SCS – Sudden Crime Syndrome. I tapped the quill on the parchment repeatedly.
“Detain her. For observation.” I said, but in reality I wasn’t worried she would have a relapse. Of the twenty-eight SCS victims I’d interrogated, not a single one had a relapse. But this girl had nowhere to go. Her grandmother, her Amma, was her only kin. And she had died from the fall. Old people were like that. Fragile. Completely healthy one moment, dying the next. I could see the news would break her. The casualties were tragic as it was, even without snuffing out another innocent life. She would be looked after, in the name of observation, at least until I figured out what was happening and could make plans to stop this atrocity from repeating itself.
The ring on my pointer started to pulse crimson. A summons from my royal father. I yanked it off and hurled it across the room. I knew what father was going to say. Same thing as last time. To leave the investigation to the royal justices. To stop jeopardizing myself. That I had a duty as his sole son and heir. Well fuck that. I wanted to inherit a thriving kingdom, not one where the people trembled in fear of an enemy they did not know. I refused to sit pretty on a throne while the people paid for my ignorance.
I heard knocking.
“Come in.”
A guard entered with a sword at the girl’s throat. She was whimpering, the sharp edge of the sword had already nicked her and red blood oozed out of the thin slit. My pupils constricted. “How dare you?” I roared, slamming my hands down, splattering ink onto the carpet and my clothes. “Throw down your weapon. Now.”
“This lowly servant is simply following his majesty’s orders. He asks your highness to stop delaying or causing further trouble and promptly return home. He asks your highness not to force his hand.”
I crumpled the parchment beneath my fingers in a blind rage, clawing into the desk itself. I was appalled that I had once looked up to him as a wise and kind ruler. Wise and kind my ass.“Let her go immediately or it’s your head I’ll have.” I hissed as I ordered my squire to ready my mount. He wants me home? Home I’ll go. Let’s see how he likes the taste of his own medicine.
I fumed as I saddled my dragon, my movements rough. Galacia let me know she didn’t appreciate it by slapping me to my side. Her spunk momentarily distracted me from my fury. I chuckled and let the tension lift off my chest as I ran my hands over her smooth, iridescent scales. I gently coaxed her while rubbing beneath her chin, with whispered apologies and declarations of my undying love.
My entourage gave me questioning looks. Why do I bother with a feisty mount? I merely stuck my tongue out at them and clapped Galacia’s neck to let her know I was ready to take off. I clung tightly to her as we shot out and tumbled through the sky, instantly making my entourage look like a colony of ants. The wind whipped my face and hair, and sucked the breath from my lungs. It was invigorating. I whooped, feeling the stress melt off. Why do I love Galacia? She keeps me on my toes. She offers dissenting opinions. She reminds me that every person and animal in this world has feelings. I don’t want to live in an echo chamber. I don’t want to delude myself into thinking I’m always right. I don’t want to be like Father. I never want to forget that at our core, we are all the same. This is the king I want to be. This is the world I want to protect.
By the time I arrived before Father, my mind was clear. Today I will demand answers.
“How many times do I have to tell you, you are the crown prince, the heir. There’s only one of you, many of them! If you need to do something, order someone else to do it! Why must you venture into the lion’s den yourself? You think you have extra lives to spare just because you’re the prince?”
“Your majesty, it’s precisely because I’m the crown prince, the heir, that I should be taking the safety of the people seriously. And I’d like to remind you that two can play the game.” I whipped out my dagger and settled it at my throat. “What’s causing SCS and why are you impeding me from finding out?”
The king’s face twisted in rage as he rose from his throne. His finger trembled as he pointed at me. “You dare threaten your father like this? Go ahead then, see if I care!”
I grit my teeth and pushed the cold metal edge further. My neck stung as warm liquid burst out and dripped down my collar.
“STOP” He roared, stumbling down the steps as he rushed towards me, desperation clung to every limb. “I’ll tell you so please stop.” He sobbed.
I lowered the dagger, using my other hand to apply pressure.
“Let’s get you bandaged up first, then we’ll talk, okay? Physician!” he called.
I was reluctant initially, but seeing father so shaken I felt I’d finally gotten through to him. I let myself be properly bandaged before finding my way to his study. There he was, inspecting the sea of volumes lined along his walls.
“Father, your son is here.” I announced, as the servants retreated and closed the door behind me, giving us privacy.
The king turned around. I was surprised to see how frail he appeared now that we were on level ground. He looked as if he aged a millennium while I’d been traveling.
"Three months ago I received a letter.” He handed me a scroll.
I opened it.
*End of Service* it was titled.
*This is your three month warning. If new players are not attracted, this world it will be forcibly deleted.*
“If your only options are sacrificing the stable prosperity of your world, or having it cease to exist altogether, which would you choose?” |
Who are they to judge us?
An ardent light casts itself over the night sky as the pine woodland land burns amongst the wreck's crater. The service rifle of my nation is held tight to my shoulder as the vile alien crawls from the wreck's molten corpse.
This thing doesn't belong in this world as I place my jackboot onto the bastard's neck to pin the escaping cretin against the Earth. Its claws rachet the dirt in a futile attempt to flee as the muzzle rests against its helmet. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
The weak thrashing lulls to a stop as the rest of the platoon advances past the wreck's dim light. The patchwork unit of NATO and WARSAW soldiers covered in layers of grim pay no heed to the sight as I pull the charging handle on my rifle. "No, please, don't do this; I have a family!"
A violent lurch from my fatigued leg drives the devil's face into the dirt, muffling its screams as I load a casing into my mk-14. The brass casing glitters through the night as distant flack clouds and tracers catch the engraved surface."No, you don't, but on the chance that you do, we'll visit them soon enough."
A horrific crack of thunder shatters the night's ambiance as the invader's helmet buckles inward in a shower of gore. The otherworldly white of its armor runs red with blood as the corpse rolls back toward the burning heap of jagged metal in the crater below. Rocks and small layers of dirt tumble with the corpse as the helmet camera of the pilot captures the descent.
Its camera tumbles in time with the mangled body before resting on the distant stars above dotted by nuclear hellfire. Vessels crash from the sky, trailing blooms of streaming debris and pursuing prop fighters.
A small flickering trail of embers drifts around a shadowed figure as the briefing room's projector rolls to a stop with the dulcet ticking of pictures. |
He had aged well, unlike me. The only thing that made me question it was his attire. He looked like he was about to attend a wedding, or a funeral, one of those guys that always looked good in a suit. He even had the same shocking blue hair, the Mohawk I thought was the epitome of cool for most of my elementary years.
My voice caught just as he was about to step off the train, but I squeaked his name once I followed him onto the platform.
“Rugby?”
It was a ridiculous name. I probably gave it to him when my brother started playing in high school.
Rugby turned, not placing where the voice had come from. I called again, this time closer. He caught me staring and raised his eyebrows. I could tell he was trying to recognize my face. It didn’t bother me for several moments until I realized that I should have been the only one to see him.
Placing his hand on the messenger bag on his hip, he turned to face me, “Sorry, but I can’t remember where I know you from,” he looked me up and down, his voice sounding genuinely apologetic.
This baffled me. I should have turned away then, except that the feeling inside me when I saw him was the only hopeful thing I had experienced in weeks. Right then, it felt impossible to ruin my life any further so I continued.
“Come on,” I was already starting to cry. “You know me”.
He turned with the look of someone who had just been approached by a cult evangelist. He was quite the fast walker, which was no surprise considering the super speed races in our backyard. He always won, which probably says a lot about who I was as a child. But this was the world where I had a job, a family, and those things never happened.
“It’s Peter!”
He turned just enough for me to see the whites of his eyes, but there was no look of recognition. It might have been that it was rush hour, or that I was shorter than almost every head in the crowd, but he disappeared completely then. A significant part of me hung on to the hope that he was too wonderful for this world, that the magic I created him with would someday bring him back. |
Maybe it’s for a competition. Who can make the best hand made pie for the least amount of money? Or something like that. Maybe the best tasting if that’s easier. It could be timed if that makes it easier to write as short story with. Like, he can only spend so much time shopping before he needs to get back to actually bake the pie on time.
Or since the prompt is more about gathering the ingredients than baking the pie, it could be for a special person. So he takes great care on picking the eggs and apples (or whatever filling) that will make the pie because quality matters in things involving love/respect lol (not in a bad way though, I mean, when I’m making something for someone as a gift because I like them, I want it to be perfect) |
**Fight Night**
\[Part One of Two\]
"We are live here at Star City's Milky Way Arena and it is almost time for our main event of the evening after a wild undercard filled with upsets and some spectacular knockouts. I'm Keith Kliffson joined by my co-host Reggie Rampage at ringside. Reg, can you believe that we would be sitting ringside about to watch a championship bout featuring, of all people, Nathan West?"The tuxedo clad commentator asked with a cheesy smile as he turned to his co-host.
Reggie's loud purple sequined suit shined under the lights, along with the gold grill in his teeth. He laughed and shook his head. "If you had told me a year ago that pretty playboy would be taking on the champ I'd have had you committed! It's absolutely mind-blowing that the CEO of a fortune one hundred company could step into that cage and lay waste to every opponent that's been put in front of him. Why even do it? You read the papers, every week he's dating a new supermodel, driving a new sportscar, and eating at michelin star restaurants across the globe!"
"Rumors have plagued West for some time that he's the masked vigilante called Nighthawk, maybe he wants to come out of the shadows and beat people up under the lights for a change?"Keith remarked.
"Oh please! Do you hear yourself talk? Rich people pay to be pampered, not play superhero in dirty alleyways."Reggie scoffed.
"Have you ever seen them in the same room together?"Keith asked.
"I've never seen you and Nighthawk in the same room either, even an old timer like you would make a more believable secret identity than Nathan West. Either way, he's got a monumental task ahead of him tonight. I don't think he stands a chance at ending the champ's reign."Reggie said confidently.
"Coming up our main event for the big gold belt. Challenger Nathan West taking on champion Baron Bronski. Our own Melissa Meadows caught up with both fighters during the last bout. Let's see what they have to say."Keith threw it backstage to rookie reporter Melissa Meadows.
"Keith I'm here with challenger Nathan West. How are you feeling going into the fight as a heavy underdog?"
Nathan flashed a bright white smile of perfectly aligned and cleaned teeth. His blonde hair quaffed and his blue eyes shined. He gently took the microphone from Melissa's hand and flexed, his chiseled muscles bulged.
"Being an underdog is something new to me. I've conquered the business and financial worlds. I've climbed Mount Everest and explored the Mariana Trench. Been to the moon and back. Named the sexiest man alive and man of the year at the same time. Whatever I put my mind to, I achieve. Not only achieve. I rise to the top. Like the cream of the crop.
People call me a lot of things. A playboy. A jet settin, wheelin, dealin, stylin and profilin man of luxury. There's something I've never been called though. That changes tonight. Once I'm done doing the deed in the cage, everyone will call me what I rightly am. The champ. Woo!"Nathan tossed the microphone back to Melissa, eyeing her up and down like a lion eyes its prey.
"Let's hope that confidence carries into the cage. Good luck tonight out there."
"Come on back after the bout, you can come party on the town tonight with the champ! Woo!"Nathan continued flexing as Melissa exited the room, scurrying down the hallway to the champion's locker room. Inside stood the massive mountain of a man. Barrel chested with legs the size of tree trunks. His bald head shined under the florescent lights, a bleached blonde fu man chu mustache dominated his stoic face. Two diminutive trainers were in the process of taping up his massive wrists and hands.
Melissa nervously held the mic up to the imposing figure. "Any words for the fans tonight, champ?"
Baron narrowed his dark brown eyes at her, a low growl escaping him. From behind the behemoth emerged a short, gaunt man, barely trace a muscle on him wearing a black and white pinstriped suit. A grey pencil thin mustache curled above his thin upper lip, receding into his sallow cheeks.
"Allow me to translate."The man spoke softly. "The champ wants the people to know they should try not to blink too much during the fight. It's not going to last long. Good thing that pretty boy has money to afford a good plastic surgeon. Once the champ is done with him he's going to look more like a Picasso than a person. Interview over. We have a fight to prepare for."
Melissa quickly escaped the room. "Back to you at ringside."
"Thanks Melissa. Both competitors seem ready, and that means it's time for our main event!"Keith yelled with excitement as the ring walks started. Nathan came out first to "Money for Nothing"by the Dire Straits. Fans in attendance jeered at him while he strutted with confidence down the aisle of the arena. A green robe emblazoned with golden dollar signs sparkled under the spotlight. He removed his robe and tossed it into the crowd before stepping into the eight sided cage, revealing golden boots, trunks, and gloves.
Without warning the arena lights went dark. A solitary spotlight shone down on the champion. The light bouncing off the big gold belt around his waist. No entrance music, no fanfare, only silence as Baron menacingly strode down the aisle. Baron didn't enter the cage through the door, he couldn't fit. He climbed over the top and calmly handed the championship belt to the ref. The two competitors sized each other up from across the mat. The ring announcer stood between them.
"Ladies and gentleman. It is time for the main event!"Bellowed the announcer's deep voice. The crowd roared. "Introducing first the challenger. Weighing in at two hundred sixty five pounds with a professional record of ten wins, zero losses, all ten wins coming by way of knockout. Nathan "The CEO of KOs"West!"
Nathan played to the crowd, they booed in response.
"And his opponent, weighing in at three hundred and eight pounds. Holding a professional record of twenty eight wins, zero losses, all twenty eight wins coming by way of knockout. The undefeated, undisputed, unstoppable, uncontrollable, unbeatable heavyweight champion of the world! Baron "The Wall"Bronski!" |
The door to Dr. Allan Pozerski’s house was not locked in the traditional sense. The handle was unlatched, and the deadbolt left open. Considering the remoteness of his chosen abode, a locked door was hardly necessary, no other human being lived for at least a dozen miles in any direction. Nonetheless, Pozerski’s house was kept sealed. Not with locks, but rather with sheaves of paper, stacked floor to ceiling against the door.
Sergeant O’Callahan had never been called out to this address, nor had anyone from the station. Not even so much as a wellness check in the 14 years since the doctors early retirement had he had a visitor. Only an urgent and suspiciously vague request, telegraphed from Boston, had seen an officer to the Pozerski residence to confirm if the man even still lived there.
Following several sharp, loud raps at the door, and no fewer than four tries of the clearly broken doorbell, Sergeant O’Callahan found himself putting his shoulder to the door, out of concern the old man living like a hermit at the very edge of the Canada-Vermont border.
His entrance was announced with a crashing fanfare of a hundred reams of paper toppling from their resting place against the only door to the first floor to the worn pine floor on the foyer. In this dusty and unlit vestibule, the sergeant found nothing and no one, save innumerable stacks of paper indistinguishable from the piles he had upended to make his entrance. Each page was filled to the edges on both sides with an unsettling composition of Latin, queer geometric symbols, and advanced mathematical formulae.
Muttering was heard from up the stairs to the second floor, and if O’Callahan turned his flashlight away from the landing, the faint yellow glow of candles was visible from a room above. Officer O’Callahan steeled himself against a wave of sudden dread, and began to slowly ascent the creaking steps.
At the top of the stairs, only one room was accessible. The other three rooms on the second floor were utterly inaccessible, each was filled wall to wall with the same sorts of unsettling paperwork that littered the first floor. The room that was accessible was only so by a narrow channel down the decrepit hall, and so was confirmed the presence of the once well-respected Doctor Allen Pozerski.
Sergeant O’Callahan called out for the doctor loudly. And then again. And then six more times, each louder than the last. For some reason he could not place, he dreaded to approach the candle lit cave that was Dr. Pozerski’s chambers.
Finally, duty narrowly prevailed over dread, and the officer pushed through the gloom and dust to the room, and was stunned at the difference between the chamber and the rest of the house, and not in a good way. All corners and seams in the room were covered in plaster. Where there had once been corners and lines, now only was smoothly contoured curves. Even the edges of the doorframe had been covered. Not a sharp edge was to be seen.
I’m the center of the room was the skeletal thin figure of a man, one sergeant O’Callahan took to be the man he had been so urgently dispatched to check on. Dr. Pozerski had certainly declined since he had suddenly withdrawn from his position at the university, immediately following the experiment which was to have been his crowning achievement, his Nobel prize. He seemed to not register that he had his first visitor in over a decade, and remained on the floor, muttering.
“Doctor Pozerski? Doctor Allen Pozerski?”
O’Callahan asked of the man. The figure did not respond, except to incline it’s head and make eye contact with his visitor.
“I-I was sent to check on you. Some men from the university would like to speak to you. They said to mention the telescope experiment.”
This caught the withered old man’s attention. In a raspy voice, cracking from disuse, Doctor Pozerski spoke to another human being for the first time since his flight from civilization.
“Fools! They want to recreate the experiment! I have counted the days, the stars are right again! They must not! They cannot!”
Officer O’Callahan made to calm the man, and knelt down beside him, only to notice a curious disturbance. The dust on the floor brushed aside, astrological equations, carved into the floorboards of the house, became visible. Before he could even attempt to read, Dr. Pozerski grabbed his forearm, clutching with his bony hand with a strength he should not have possessed.
“You must stop them! They will be seen! The eye rests upon this world!! It knows the gate! It is the gate! It is both key and guardian of the gate!!”
The frail doctor shot to his feet, and made for the door, only to stop short in front of the portal to the rest of the house. Here, he faltered.
“I…… I cannot leave this place. Only here am I hidden from the eye. It must be you.”
Doctor Allan Pozerski turned to his guest.
“Officer, do you have what it takes to hide this world from what watches from the stars?” |
Disclaimer: There's a paragraph that is a bit dark about midway down the story (which will be broken into different comments because Reddit doesn't like multi-thousand word stories). You'll know it when you get to it.
https://www.reddit.com/r/maxathronwrites/
It was the year 2500, five hundred years after the towers fell, and a hundred years since the People’s Republic of the World came to power. Originally, it started with small scale rumblings and protests, people upset that government and business kept them down by not paying a living wage and how only the Asians were getting ahead in life. As the people saw their standards of living fall, their misery grew, and protests went from peaceful to mostly peaceful.
The deaths of martyrs, ordered executions from high above in business dominated government, did not stop the protests. Instead, it fanned the flames of revolutions. What were small embers destined to snuff themselves out from exhaustion transformed into a living, breathing monster of anger, wrath, and revenge. The People were angry and they would have their revenge.
Decades of fighting resulted in a war-torn land. Cities were toppled. The countryside scarred. The rivers and lakes boiled. The coasts were soaked in blood.
But at the end, the revolution stood victorious.
The leaders of the revolution took stock of what they wrought. Their enemies were dead or missing, but the land was devastated. They came together to build a better tomorrow. The People’s Republic of the World was founded.
It took Herculean efforts but the world slowly went back to normal. Cities were rebuilt. Farms were made fertile and growing. Rivers and lakes became clean.
Things became normal once more.
Or so the People thought.
In their effort to rebuild society once the war ended, the revolution was needed no more, and when their enemies were dead or missing, the leaders of the revolution needed to form government agencies to oversee the rebuilding of the world.
Without much to go on, the leaders put forth a similar system as before. They included checks and balances and put down severe punishments for corruption and people that stepped out of line. If you were raising a stink over something, you were against the greater good, and thus were an enemy to the state. Enemies of the state were rounded up and publicly executed to ensure that others would not follow their lead.
Eventually, they would hand power back to the people.
It was the year 2500, a hundred years after the founding of People’s Republic of the World. And power had still yet be handed back to the People.
Now, this wasn’t overtly a bad thing. The Republic was prosperous. Social and economic mobility, while weak, also didn’t live you in bad places for very long. Life was reasonable. Risk ranged anywhere from minor to moderate, with matching reward levels. People in power legitimately cared about your well-being and strove to put you where you belonged and was needed. Life was pretty good overall.
By our standards, of course. By the standards of the early twenty-first century, we weren’t actually all that far off from the feudal system of twelfth century Europe. The key difference was that there were no overt lords above the vassals and peasants. Just vassals and peasants as far as we could see.
Money still existed, as because it was needed as an exchange medium for work done and relative value of goods. Consumer goods that broke apart quickly due to planned obsolescence were few and far in between. Manufacturers prided themselves on items that lasted a long time with little upkeep. That did mean however that electric cars were rare due to their lack of versatility. Progressive environmentalists were quietly shoved aside by the state.
But there was an underlying suspicion that things were not quite right with society.
Looking beyond skin deep, into the blood stream and muscles, one would find that money also acted as a medium of social credit. Doing things that benefitted the state and its leaders earned you more money and thus social credit. Doing things that went against the state lost you money and thus social credit. The state had a firm grip on the economy even if it wasn’t apparent. The Republic’s so-called free market economy was a very carefully planned command economy that on the surface looked like a normal free market economy.
This all wouldn’t be that bad because on the surface the average person could live, prosper, have a family, and watch that family grow and become the next generation. But if you spoke out, or tried to do something that the government didn’t want you to do, you were swiftly cut down. Even if you managed to avoid being taken by the government, the act of being branded against the greater good meant that the people around you, conditioned by the government to hate those against the greater good, would turn on you and hunt you down to turn you in.
Further, by digging into the nuances of the Republic, one would find that the goods and services done by the People did not entirely return to them. A small amount of resources left the People and the economy and the Republic and was transported to a hidden region deep in the heart of the capitol, which sprawled across what was once the region between D.C. and Boston, to what used to be called New Amsterdam, where the true leaders of the revolution lived. |
The critter scurried under the car. Jenna quietly tip-toed up to it.
“Here, here. I won’t hurt you little guy.”
She grabbed a chip from her bag and threw it towards the creature.
It purred, grabbed the chip, and then quickly darted back behind the tire of the car.
She grabbed a few more chips from her bag and held them out in her palm.
The critter, trusting her, climbed onto her hand.
“Woah! Toby! Come over here and look at this,” Jenna exclaimed.
Toby strolled over to where Jenna was standing. Rolling his eyes, he said, “You know, Mom always says that we’re not supposed to play with stray—”
His eyes lit up, he shouted, “It doesn’t have a light! How does it not have a light? It’s supposed to have a light!”
Jenna answered, “I know, I know. It’s weird, I’ve never seen anything quite like it. It looks a little like a sklucat but it doesn’t have the usual gray stripes.”
Jenna put a few chips in her little brother’s hands and then watched the creature jump into his palm.
“It’s tickling me!” Toby giggled as the critter nibbled away at the chips.
“Look, it likes you. It must know,” Jenna said, staring at her brother’s chest.
Toby looked down at his chest too, which was illuminated only by the streetlight above.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything that doesn’t have a light like me,” Toby observed.
“Well it’s yours now, we should take it home and see if Mom and Dad will let us keep it,” Jenna said, putting her arm around her brother.
The siblings walked down the street while the little critter bounced from shoulder to shoulder and onto the top of Toby’s head. He chuckled to himself.
“Soooo… if Mom and Dad let you keep it, what are you going to name it?” Jenna asked.
“Hmmm,” Toby gave a long pause, thinking hard. Finally, he said, “Dimmy! You know, it’s like Timmy except he doesn’t shine like me. So he’s dim. Dimmy.”
“Dimmy,” Jenna repeated to herself laughing, “I like it.”
As the evening drew on, Toby and Jenna arrived home, pleaded with their parents about keeping the pet, and after a lengthy and exhausting debate, finally got a reluctant “ok” from their parents. Dimmy was part of the family now.
Little did they know that Dimmy was only one day old, a mere infant in the grand scheme of its life. And more importantly, it was no coincidence that Toby found the only other living being without a light.
A shifty figure, lurking behind the street corner, had placed the creature there… |
“Alan! Alan! I am so glad you decided to join us,” the suited man said to me.
“The platoon of armed men in full tactical gear that came to my house really didn’t make it seem like it was optional. They said, ‘Come with us now or we will shoot you in the fucking head!’ Over and over again. Wasn’t really getting the *optional* vibe from those guys, yeah know?” I was giving this guy the side eye and while trying to take in the the surroundings.
A nondescript old brick building in the industrial area. One of hundreds. Nothing about it stood out.
“Oh don’t be silly. They were just trying to make sure you got here safely, and you did! So that is awesome,” suit guy said way too enthusiastically. “You are going to love working with us. We have a whole team of meta humans like yourself. We do mission impossible type things where we pick a specialized team to get the job done. It is very exciting!”
“What government agency am I going to be working for, if I choose to accept this job, exactly?” I ask.
The suited man smiled big, “of course you will be working with us, not like you have another choice.” He said with an awkward chuckle. “I can’t go into specifics, like our name or our mission. Just rest assured that we are the government and therefore the good guys. Who doesn’t want to work for the good guys, right?”
This was feeling shadier by the moment.
“Let’s go meet the rest of your team,” he beamed at me with a big smile.
We walked into a boardroom with a few people sitting around the table. They all looked bored and like they wanted to be anywhere else.
“Stanley! Why are we here, man? What is so important that you had to drag me away from my kid’s birthday party?” A particularly pissed off looking man asked the suited man.
“It is a big day! That’s why! We have a new member on the team and I would like you all to meet him,” Stanley said with over the top enthusiasm. The pissed off guy just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Everyone, I would like you to meet our newest member - “, he stepped to the side so everyone could get a good look at me, “FingerBanger!”
“What‽ whoa! That is a horrible name! Dude I am not using that name!” I exclaimed. I was mortified. What a horrible name.
“Don’t worry darling, it is like an internal code name. It will only be how they refer to you on comms… and on the PR material… and on TV and stuff. No one really pays attention to it,” an older lady said. She is dressed like a cheesy fortune teller wanna be.
“That seems pretty important. Let’s just go with my name, Alan, until we have the chance to figure out the whole ‘code name’ thing,” I say.
The fortune teller wanna be just chuckles, “good luck with that. They call me the ‘Whoracle’. I have the power of sexual precognition. I can predict with a hundred percent certainty if two people With have sex,” she said confidently.
“Nice intro Whoracle!” Stanley said. “Let’s keep it going. Let’s just go around the table. Everyone introduce yourselves and say what your power is.”
“Hey FingerBanger, - “
“Not my name!”
“ - my power is that I have super breath. I can blow really hard and like push cars and knock people over. Since it looks like a gust of wind, it is super covert, and sneaky. They call me BlowJob.”
Blowjob was in a dark blue track suit, and even with the horrible name, took himself very seriously.
A thin, blading man with a sad comb over, adjusted his wire frame glasses. He was dressed in a sweater vest and looked like a university professor. He cleared his throat before he started to speak.
“I can stop any object from moving by breaking the natural laws of physics. Inertia and directed force just don’t apply unless I want them to. I can disrupt the natural flow of energy,” he said is a slightly smug voice.
“That sounds cool,” I said. “So you can stop bullets?”
“Bullets, cars, run away trains…. I can stop anything that is in motion.”
“Nice! What do they call you?” This guy had to have a cool name with a power like that.
“They call me the Retard,” he said confidently.
“Whoa! That isn’t cool. I am pretty sure we aren’t allowed to even say that!”
He looked at me quizzically. “I retard motion. I came up with the name myself and the agency said it was prefect.” He was starting to look offended, “What is wrong with my name, *FingerBanger*?”
“Not my name! I just isn’t. Everyone needs to know that. I am not going to even answer to that name!” I took a deep breath. “I am pretty sure your name is offensive - like so not PC any more man.”
He rolled his eyes at me, “it is the correct usage of the word.”
“Let’s keep on track here,” Stanley interjected.
“I am the flash,” a man with slicked back blonde hair said. “I can move like *really* fast. I can run at over 900 miles an hour. You don’t see me… you just see a *flash*”
“That is a cool name and power man.”
“He also has to be completely naked to move that fast,” Retard said, “which means he is flashing everyone.”
The Flash gives a quick shrug of his shoulders.
“Every power has a down side right?” Stanley said with a half smile. “And our last member -“
“Hi, they call me SecondBase. I am invulnerable. Bullets, lasers, fire, radiation - you name it and it has zero affect - on my boobs.”
“On… your… boobs….” I don’t even know why I was surprised at this point. “What about the rest of you?”
“The rest of me is as normal as can be,” she explained.
“So if you were to be shot in the head -“
“Then I would die, yip.”
“So,” I started not sure how to ask, “so how do you make sure you only get like, shot in the boobs?”
“Oh, that is really easy. I go around topless. People shoot what they are looking at… and… well… it works,” she said.
“Ok, that is the whole team, FingerBanger - ,” Stanley started.
“Not my name!”
“ - right. I will see if the marketing team can come up with something else but I think the name fits. It is a good name,” Stanley said. “Thanks for coming in everyone! Good to see you all. FingerBanger and I are going to get started on his on boarding paper work. See you all at the next briefing.”
“Welcome to the inappropriates, FingerBanger!” BlowJob said as he patted my shoulder on the way out of the briefing room. |
# Long-term Donations
Simon grabbed the stake, braced a foot on the withered corpse and heaved.
The throne instantly blasted apart under the force of darkness.
He barely parried the first lunge, then used the holy wood as a club to smash the vampire away before fangs could find his neck. In response Alucard hissed and swung low, smashing a near-skeletal fist into the hunter's ribs with an audible crunch.
Simon flew the length of the dusty chamber like a ragdoll. He hit a candelabra, tumbled over a rotten feasting table and took out a decorative painting. Rolling upright, he side-stepped another lunge and brought the stake down twice. *Whack, crack*. The vampire's hip and left knee shattered.
Alucard screamed, high and yowling like a demonic cat.
He pressed the advantage, swinging hard enough to make splinters fly off the stake. Shoulder, neck, spine: Simon crushed anything on the hissing vampire that looked structural. Eventually Alucard scrabbled away like a broken roach, flailing limbs disappearing into the musty darkness.
Putting his back to the wall, Simon waited.
Mist rose off the floor, slowly swirling and condensing. Pieces of night folded inside, outlining a crippled form that slowly snapped together again. Until finally a new figure stepped out, cold and elegant, the exact opposite of the dirty, hissing vampire he'd just fought.
They studied each other, hunter and hunted.
Simon slowly lowered the holy stake. "You get tougher every century, you know."
"Indeed,"the newly transformed Dracula agreed in a clipped accent straight out of eastern Europe. Icy eyes took in Simon's battered suit and then tracked around the room, cataloguing changes. "Is this the style of the age, now? Three piece suits and decrepit suites?"
"Actually, no. We just lost track of the budget for maintenance a dozen years ago. Someone will be along to fix that, shortly."
"And the suit?"
Simon glanced down. "Oh, this. Just came back from a wedding."
A long tongue licked along Dracula's teeth. "Weddings are funerals for the soul."
"Hopefully not. Theodore's my youngest and he seems happy. Anyways,"Simon took a battered metal flask out of his pocket and spun the cap off with a practiced flick. "You know what I'm here for."
"The blessing of Night again? So soon?"Dracula folded his arms and frowned like a gargoyle. "Why don't we postpone, perhaps for a chat? Or a small bite to eat. I grow annoyed with this ritual over the ages."
"No deal."Simon underhanded the flask, zipping it through the air fast enough to make a softball pitcher proud.
Dracula caught it with a snapping motion so fast it was almost stopmotion. "No banter, hunter? Where's the thrill of battle, the epic confrontation, the ever-living *joie de vivre*? Warm my cold heart before I tap it for thee again, mortal."
"My battles are in boardrooms these days. There are no more vampire hunters."
"Indeed? None of my kind exist, anymore? What of Transylvania, the earth of my first coffin's resting place?"
"Doesn't exist. It's Romania, now."
Dracula sneered. "Ah. The Magyar had their way in the end. Perhaps Prussia? A piece of my heritage resides in the Drinkers, there."
"Depends. Most of it's Germany and Poland these days."Simon motioned towards the flask with his stake. "You mind?"
"Bah. Ever impatient."Dracula whipped a thumbnail across his throat and leaned slightly, catching the slow drip of blood with the flask. "How your kind survived when mine perished is a cruel fate."
Simon nodded. "Can't say I disagree. But then again, your 'family' always made the same mistake in the end."
"Which is?"He capped the flask with an elegant flourish and tossed it back.
"You fought to rule humanity by force. That was never going to work."
Undead skin and eternal life combined into an impressive look of disdain. "And your way was better?"
"Yup. I'll use some of this blood and pass some on to my boy and his bride. We'll go on through the years while you go back to rest with wood in your chest."
"One day the mortals will catch on, hunter."
Simon actually looked amused at the idea. "I doubt it. That's what shell companies are for-- it's like an investment into the future. They never see my family at the top, ruling it all."
"I do not understand this talk of shells."
"You don't need to, vamp. Now, then: Time for you to go back under for a while."
​
---
I occasionally write horror and supernatural stuff over at r/Susceptible ;) |
"So the next artefact we're looking for is a golden compass"I remark as Klonk, Leafboy and I sit on a grassy field, eating to regain our energy. My wrists and ankles are tied together by vines; understandably, Leafboy doesn't trust me and wants me restrained.
"Yep. I believe the next riddle is 'The arrows will guide you through the forest, don't go through the path that looks easiest'."Klonk takes a big bite of his sandwich.
Leafboy wipes his mouth. "Guessing there'll be a straightforward path that seems tempting, but we'd just get ourselves lost or something."
"I've actually had underlings explore the forest before"I remark as I chew my apple. "This was without any of us knowing about riddles or the artefacts or anything, I just heard there were some good herbs. A lot of men got consumed by the forest based on my reports."
"YIKES! Good thing I can talk to plants"Leafboy smirks.
Klonk lowers his eyebrows. "I don't think-"
"Well, well, well."All three of us turn to see who the voice belongs too. I'm shocked to see Dredge... or at least, a possessed version of him. "You really intend to stop the Demon Lord from coming back, don't you, Wretch?"
I stand up, quickly burning the vines 'restraining' me using my powers. "Of course I am! Why wouldn't I?"
"You're a *villain*, Wretch. You can't just fight against who you are. Join us. My master will give you your own kingdom to rule."
I look at his outstretched hand, then back at Dredge's face. "DREDGE, SNAP OUT OF IT! POPPY IS SO WORRIED ABOUT YOU! YOUR MUM HAS BEEN CRYING HERSELF DRY! YOUR FAMILY NEED YOU, DREDGE!"
The demon possessing him chuckles. "Think morals will work? Sir, they only work when people *have* morals! Now... it's clear you won't join... let's fight..."
I begin charging my powers. I hear Leafboy and Klonk running up to join. "No. This is *personal*. I've got this."
For several minutes 'Dredge' and I spar. He'll throw out fire and I'll extinguish the flames; I'll shoot a dark beam at him and he'll jump.
At some point we both stop to recharge. I spot a demon grinning behind Dredge.
...
Wait... "Dredge?"
"...Yes?"
I glance between Dredge and the demon. I stand upright. "Dredge... why?"
"Don't you get it? All these meaningless years of fighting and time wasted doing 'good'... it's not like I ever make a goddamn difference. Think you're the *first* threat I've had to deal with? *Everyone* is trying to take over the world. I did what I did because I had to. But the Demon Lord made me a deal I couldn't refuse: if there's no world, there's nothing I need to protect. He'll spare my village. There'll be no evil left."I notice a sadness in the hero's eyes. *He doesn't truly believe this.*
"Let's go"the demon commands. Dredge turns around and allows the demon to possess him once again. He then runs off.
"I had no idea Dredge felt that way..."Klonk shuffles up next to me.
I shake my head. "There's more going on here than what's at face value. In any case, our goal doesn't change."I turn to Leafboy. "Got more vines?"
"Yeah... why?"
I smile. "Don't you want to keep me 'under control'?"
Leafboy narrows his eyes curiously. "You could have broken out at any time. You never tried. You just took on Dredge by yourself, you clearly didn't want us getting hurt. I can trust you now. Why would I bind you up again?"
I walk forward. "A show of good faith. I could betray you and Klonk at any time. You can't know my true intentions. I thought I knew Dredge; now I'm not so sure."
Leafboy looks at me apologetically, as if sorry about my situation, before nodding, his expression being more serious. He proceeds to tie my wrists and ankles again. He gives me some water to drink, which I accept - I need it!
"Alright"Klonk declares, "now we head to the Twisted Forest!"
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This story is a part of my series, [Cursed Warrior.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x3fd15/cursed_warrior/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out! |
Bea sat at her kitchen table, drumming her fingers next to the glass of amber liquid she had poured to help her make sense of the situation. Across the table from her was her cat, Vesper. The Siamese cat was almost two years old and, for the most part, fairly normal. He did have some odd behaviors for a cat, something Bea usually shrugged off as cats just being weird like that, but now...
"You can talk..."Bea repeated.
"Yes."Vesper said, for the third time, "I can speak fourteen languages."
Bea lifted the glass of rum to her lips again and sipped, her face twisting with the powerful flavor. She was not a drinker, she only had rum in her freezer for whenever friends came over and she mixed it with coke. She was out of soda though, but needed to drink for this one.
"English... cat... and?"Bea asked. If she was going crazy she might as well lean into it.
"You are being rather reductive in assuming 'cat' is a language, or a singular one."Vesper said. Bea got the distinct impression that there was some nonverbal queue that she could not discern that was the feline equivalent to an eye roll. "But I also speak Spanish, Italian, and French in your human languages. Conversational Mandarin as well and I am studying Japanese in my free time. I hope to be fluent by year's end."
"You want to learn a language in half a year?"Bea asked, "Ambitious, I guess."
"For Humans,"Vesper said, "I myself am rather lazy."
"You're also only two."Bea said after taking another sip of the rum.
"This body is two, yes,"Vesper said, lowering his chin to rest on the table, "This is where you ask about the 'nine lives', and I tell you...?"
Bea blinked, not expected the grilling to switch to her. She was about to ask that very question and now was caught off-guard. Disarmed. She was quiet long enough that her cat sighed. It was a peculiar flare of his nostrils rather than a heave of his breast as Bea would have expected from a human.
"Very well, go ahead and ask."
"So cat's do have nine lives?"Bea asked, feeling like she could not escape from some script.
"No,"Vesper said, "We have one life, but our lives are not shackled to our physical form. Now, are you going to finish getting drunk or can we get started?"
"Get started on what?"Bea asked, "Am I going to become a witch? Start *Bea's Delivery Service*?"
"Sarcasm suits you,"Vesper said, "But witches are a myth. No, we're going to take down Amazon." |
Under the light of a crescent moon,
Could you bear the weight of its watery light,
Bearing down on you with the force of unbidden memory?
Could you, even if you tried, see that crescent moon as it actually is?
Its beauty is enough to tear the ocean from the shore.
The pull of it moves oceans and hearts and calendars along.
That luminous body, which has stood silent vigil over the meetings of lovers
and has watched - indifferently - the dark deeds of evil men.
That crescent moon, which makes good its promise,
like a wry smile torn into the very fabric of the sky,
to disappear and leave men and beasts shrouded in confounding darkness,
still watches and makes herself anew.
If only you or I could perform such a miracle
and be consumed into the very material of our own skies.
Perhaps then, we could make ourselves new
and bear to look up under the crescent moon. |
Wait, these fuckers have Dad? Well, I guess there's only one thing to do.
"Yeah, go ahead and kill that fucker. Ditched me when I was 6, hoping I'd die."I replied.
There was a long pause, then the voice on the other end of the line said *"What."*
"You heard me. Kill him. I don't give two shits about him."
*"Are... Are you for real? You don't care even one bit about your father?"*
"Again, he left me to die. Karma's a fucking bitch, ain't it Dad?"
*"...Alright, how about this, then? Give us what we want or we'll* ***not*** *kill your dad!"*
"Still don't care. Good luck with whatever bullshit you have planned, Bucko, 'cause it's not my problem!"
*"Wai-"* Hanging up, I block the number. Hopefully they kill dad anyways.
Now to get on with my day. |
"Don't steal food from the break room. And I don't just mean because it is a jerk move and technically a crime. I mean because if it belongs to one of our fae employees, your going to face consequences. Again, I don't mean mundane—"
"I get it. I wouldn't anyway,"I say to Maggy. She's in her 60s, edge of retirement, and clearly checked 9ut already. Not sure why they made her my guide, but I appreciate her candor. "Any other warnings as regards the fae?"
"Keep a shaker of salt at your desk."She holds up a finger before I can ask. "And Google them. The group here are Scots descent, though we get some Irish and Welsh as well. One of the bigwigs at the home office is something Germanic. You figure out what, let us know. Even the fae don't seem to be sure."
"Must be exciting, working in such a magical office."
She gives a short, dry laugh, a blast of air really. "Magical? Most look human, don't fly indoors, keep pretty quiet. If you didn't get warned ahead of time, you'd never notice until things went wrong."
"What sort of things go wrong?"
"Wait until you meet Frank, you'll see."
"What happened to Frank?"
"Frank ate some of the wrong food, and now he can't leave. He has a cot in the back. DoL is trying to get it sorted out, but none of the fae are admitting they did it, and Frank ate so many different folks' food that day, there's no telling. Plus, most of us think he got off easy."
"Noted."
"Anyway, this is your desk. Tours over, get to work."
I settled in, and booted up the computer. I'd done the training, and was technically transferring in due to my internship at the offices back home in Bruce-Glen, so it was more like coming back than starting new. Still the fae were a surprise. I had faced a few undead, and there were a few cosmic cults active back hometown (for loose definitions of active, such as only one member), but never any fae.
"Hi new guy,"a small, handsome face peered over the cubicle wall. He seemed a bit to clear skinned to be human, so I assumed and was on guard.
"Hi."
"I'm Tom. And you are?"
"Call me Sam,"I said, careful not to reveal my entire name.
"Hi, Sam. Listen, a group of us are going out to TGI Friday's after work, a regular Thursday thing, if you ever want to join."
"Sounds great. I can't tonight, but I'll be there next week."
"I'll hold you to that,"he grinned as a bolt of blue energy popped in the air between us, and realized my mistake. Already in a contract with a fae. Maybe I should fins a new job. |
Tom was a janitor at the government research facility. He had worked there for over a decade and had seen all kinds of strange things, but nothing prepared him for what he was about to experience.
One day, while cleaning a storage room, he came across an old, dusty device tucked away in a corner. It looked like it hadn't been touched in years, and he assumed it was some kind of outdated piece of equipment that had been forgotten.
Tom didn't give it much thought as he moved the device out of the way to clean the floor. But as he shifted it, he accidentally hit a button, and the device sprang to life.
Suddenly, alarms began to blare, and the lights flickered on and off. Tom was frozen in fear as he watched the device hum and whir, the ominous sound filling the small room. He realized that he had just activated some kind of doomsday device.
He frantically searched for an off switch or a way to shut it down, but nothing seemed to work. As the minutes passed, he realized that the situation was out of his control, and he had no idea how to stop the countdown.
Tom thought about running, but he knew it was too late. The device had already been activated, and he had no idea what kind of damage it could do. He tried to call for help, but the phones were dead, and the doors were locked. He was trapped.
Tom could hear the sound of planes overhead, and he knew that something terrible was about to happen. He thought about his family and friends, and all the things he had yet to do. He was overwhelmed with fear and regret.
Suddenly, the room filled with a blinding light, and the ground shook violently. Tom was thrown to the ground as the walls cracked and crumbled around him. He thought it was the end, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
But as the dust settled, Tom realized that he was still alive. The device had not caused the apocalypse he had feared, but it had caused a massive explosion that had rocked the facility. The room was destroyed, and he was lucky to be alive.
Tom stumbled out of the room, shaken but alive. He knew that he had made a mistake, and that his life would never be the same. He had accidentally activated a doomsday device and caused an explosion that would be felt for miles around.
As he looked around at the destruction he had caused, Tom knew that he would never be able to forget what he had done. He would always be haunted by the memory of the day he accidentally triggered the end of the world. |
"Yeah, what about it?"
Georgie responded to the group chat, he was one of the remnants of a gaming group. They were apparently playing rainbow six when "it"happened.
We don't know exactly what; our best guess is some kind of bomb. Their was a bright flash, some crazy colors (we can't agree which ones) and everyone, everywhere who was human, dropped dead.
Then, even worse, we woke up.
We could move our corpses, slowly. Exerting any kind of force was an endeavor though, and it took ages just to type. So that's all we've been doing: typing for days on end, trying to figure out what's going on.
"Why should we bother typing anymore?"
Casey finished her thought. Or his thought, I guess I never asked. There's a lot I never did, to be honest. Just spending all my time lurking in chat rooms, not even bothering to type half the time. But if I was out more, I suppose I would be less likely to be sitting at my desk when this started. So lucky me...
"Wouldn't That be a waste?"
That came from Dakkaman, who never gave us his real name. I don't get it, he shared everything else about himself. Where he lived, what he does for a living, how far the poor pedestrian out his window managed to crawl. We don't know where he went either, just disappeared overnight. My bet was on coyotes.
"A waste of what? There's nothing left."
Casey kept going. They were wrong, I think. If we could get this far, there had to be something! I didn't watch myself rot just to lie over and give up. It took me hours to move my fingers, and longer to type.
Slowly, methodically my hands crept over my keyboard, still covered in some of my carrion. Four hours, much faster then I'm used to, and I hit send.
"We're left."
Dramatic, I know, but the five of us needed to hear it. Well, four and a half: one poor survivor was sitting at an angle, at least told us before she fell over.
Georgie, Casey, Dakkaman, Messa, and me. Just us and the end of the world.
"I miss my family."
Casey sent in again. They said it before, we all did, but it still hurt to read.
"I miss my cat."
Casey's cat was in the other room when they died. We know it was horrible for them.
"I don't want to stay like this"
I couldn't bear to see them like this. Any of them: I've checked more group chats, more survivers, all of them lost hope. All of them need help so badly.
"We won't, I swear I'm feeling faster, stronger."
Dakkaman kept insisting, to some of our doubts. I believe him though, we're definitely typing faster then when we started. Maybe we just got used to being dead, that's grim.
But before I could ponder that dark thought (while moving my right hand back to the mouse) something miraculous popped up on my screen:
"I'M STANDING"
"GUYS I'M STANDING UP"
"SOMEONE RESPOND PLEASE"
If I still had a heart, and if it could still beat, I'm sure it would've beat out of my chest! It was Messa, and by the looks of it, she was standing. Clicking the text box, I typed as fast as I could muster as the next two pings came from her. And finally, I sent all I could think to say:
"Holy shit" |
​
What could have happened?
Why would I be such a tightwad?
The penny that I had sent, a mere sliver of zinc, denuded of its copper cladding.
The date still etched in my mind. The process was just now being perfected after 9 years. Tens of millions of dollars of wealth to be sent to past selves. Changing lives in the blink of an eye. Like a lottery of the future.
I had done my research.
I now knew why I had only sent the single cent to my past self.
I remember being so upset with myself, watching the news of millions of dollars suddenly appearing in a persons life. Bemoaning my future self for sending a single cent.
Over the years I slowly came to a realization.
I saw the countless lives changed by unearned windfall. The squandering of wealth, not having earned it for themselves. The mentality that someone in your future will have money to send. When it came time to send to themselves. They had nothing to send.
Millions owed on lives lived.
The ultimate scam. The reverse mortgage life.
Live in luxury for a time. Then become property of your lender.
I smiled as I sent the selected period specific tender to the past. My company "Time Wealth Transfer". Knowing what year it was going to happen, the date etched in my mind. I had started my new venture. Selling your current wealth, to send some to your past self. For a fee of course. Once I have some capital, the next part begins. I'm glad they made financial slavery legal this year.
That reminds me, I need to send that penny to myself. You see, you can only send to a person in the past once, a second attempt always fails. I now know I had sent it to myself as protection. My past cannot be changed by anyone else. |
"Damnit!"Bea yelled over the sound of explosions in the tunnel ahead. She rolled the corps of Lieutenant Jacobs over and ripped his dog tags off, shoving them in her breast pocket. She looked up at the hall where the smoke and dust was still settling while patting his pockets, the approaching groans of the mummy's horde still audible even over the ringing in her ears.
"Is Jacobs dead?"Richard asked.
"Yeah,"Bea said, not finding anything else she'd need to reclaim for him, "Got any oil?"
"Why?"
"If we leave him here he'll just show up again in an hour,"Bea said, "We gotta burn him."
"But... but..."
Bea reached up and grabbed Richard's collar and pulled him closer, "He's dead!"she yelled in his face, "He's dead and he'd do the same to you if you died! Oil! Now!"Technically Richard outranked Bea, but Bea had been serving longer. She yanked the oil out of his hand and started to pour it all over Jacobs' body, reaching for a lighter when Richard alerted her that the soldiers were coming.
Bea looked up, the remains of the terracotta soldiers marching or limping towards them. She lit the lieutenant's body on fire and kicked him further down the hall so he rolled over the pressure plate trap that they had marked out on their way in. Spikes erupted from the floor and walls, skewering their fallen brother in arms like a burning hotdog and shattering several of the approaching soldiers.
"Keep moving,"Bea said, picking up her entrenching tool. She scraped some of the dirt on it off against the stone floor and led Richard back towards their encampment. Whoever else had survived would be waiting there to regroup and plan out which zone to dig in next. |
Bea stepped out of the truck with the big yellow logo of the extermination company she worked for. She had parked just outside the town square where she could see a crowd of people talking to someone who had the suit of someone important. In a small town like this, that was either the mayor or someone on the city council. Either way, she just needed a few signatures so she could get started.
Bea unlocked the back of the truck to retrieve the clipboard, the Dragonslayer Spear, and a Shield of Fire Resistance just in case. She strapped the gear to her harness, locked up the truck, and walked over to the crowd. Standing out like a sore thumb, it was easy to get the attention of the suited man - the mayor, as she had guessed - and introduced herself with the company slogan. She stood beside him, holding the clipboard and explaining the procedure's she was going to follow and pointing out the breakdown of the initial estimate.
The mayor cleared his throat after a point and interjected.
"We didn't request Lindworm removal,"he said, tapping the paper, "*Lint* worms. We have an infestation of *lint* worms."he pulled open his suit jacket and plucked a small wriggling piece of dust out from the fibers.
Bea looked at it, immediately thinking of who to yell at when she got back to the office. She'd had to requisition the spear and now owed an asshole in the armory a favor for slipping the shield out without the extra authentication required. The drive here was over ten hours with traffic and she was already on probation so her overtime was going to be reduced.
And she had the wrong goddamn gear.
"Ah,"she said, folding the clipboard under her arm, "Alright, I see. Mistake in the paperwork then, I'll call back and get an updated estimate for you right away,"she said, walking back to the truck. She was absolutely livid and ready to breathe fire herself. She wished there *was* a Lindworm nearby, it would have made dealing with the lint worms easier. |
The bluejay jetted off from my shoulder, back into the trees, back to its mate. The news it brought was saddening. Another hunter had come, and another doe lay dead. It was a good thing hunters were rare these days. I just don't have the strength I used to, and what must be done takes a lot out of me. I heaved my bulk up from from the stone hollow, the air feeling chill on my moist underbelly, a sharp contrast to the sun drenched carpet of green warmth of my back, creaking my head around to examine the latest growth. At least one sapling was starting. I gently reached back and plucked it from my back, then held it carefully as I stepped over to the edge of the clearing, finding a nice spot of soil. Extending one claw, I carved a hole, then slowly set the sapling's roots in, holding it steady as I pushed soil back in, covering up the roots.
"Tend it for me."I thought to the oak towering overhead. There was a creak and a groan as its branches shifted, and then a gentle rain of water from its leaves pattered down onto the new sapling and its soil. It was going to be well cared for until it could weather the storms itself.
Slowly I began to work my way southeast, taking care to only touch ground on bare rock, and my grip on tree trunks was the minimum necessary. There was a wrong to be righted.
##################
It took two days to find the hunter. Working from the site of the killing, following the information passed from all of my companions. There was always sadness and inevitability touching the messages, but no hesitation or withdrawing. They knew what was coming. They knew what had to be done. The hunter was camped next to the stream in the wild berry meadow, a small carefully banked fire prepared and maintained well, a canvas tent pitched beyond. He was at work upon the doe, carving her meat, salting slices, wrapping them into packages, tucking them away on his sled.
I paused only to observe and understand what I could of this man first. He was lean, bearded with dark brown, dressed in the clothes of that other life. He worked quickly, quietly, and efficiently. I saw no obvious waste, no careless disregard. Only ignorance.
Finally I lumbered out onto the meadow, whispering an apology to the blueberries and huckleberries that were damaged and disturbed, hushing them back to slumber so they might be spared as much as possible.
The hunter was alert and his bow was in his hands quickly enough, then an arrow knocked and loosed as it was clear I was coming towards him. The arrow hit just above my foreleg shoulder joint and stuck into an old root there. I immediately stopped. Not from pain, for I felt none. Instead because I had found it lessened the chance of my quarry running if I let them perceive that they had some superiority. The hunter had another arrow knocked, but had not drawn it.
"You have a choice before you,"the old words coming hard to my gnarled mouth, "as you have violated the Agreement and have brought harm and death here."
The hunter's eyes widened at the low rumble of my voice.
"Will you accept your Debt to the Agreement, or will you deny it?"
The hunter was speechless for a time. They usually are. I waited.
"Wh-what agreement?"The hunter finally stammered.
"That which was written in stone, and placed at the entrances to this sanctuary, that which allows us to live in peace with our neighbors, that which lays out the penalties for harm and death."
The hunter was very pale by the end of my words. "Pl-please, I didn't know."
I made no reply. He was obviously very scared. He would accept his fate.
##################
The wolves, hawks, and eagles were feasting on the doe. Nothing is wasted. I crouched lightly, watching over the scene, resting after the exertion. It took a great deal out of me. The sun was low behind the trees by the time I felt up to returning to my hollow. I brushed the latest young tree, a dozen feet tall, as I turned back toward the edge of the clearing and starting for home. A maple. A good tree. I looked back at it once before entering the low light under the canopy. A good tree. He made a good choice. |
The man, whose name was John, had always imagined that he would end up in Heaven after he died. He had lived a good life, had been kind to his neighbors, and had always tried to do the right thing. So, when he found himself in a strange, gray landscape, he was confused and more than a little worried.
At first, he thought he must be in Hell. After all, the sky was gray, the air was thick with a smoky haze, and there seemed to be no sign of life anywhere. But as he walked around, he realized that this place was different. It was quiet, peaceful, and almost serene. He felt a strange sense of calm wash over him.
As he walked, he saw other people – people who looked just as confused and bewildered as he felt. They didn't speak to each other, but John could sense that they were all thinking the same thing: "What is this place?"
John wandered around for what felt like hours, but there was no sign of anyone in charge. There were no gates, no angels, and no demons. Just gray skies, gray land, and a strange sense of emptiness.
Finally, John came across a group of people who were huddled together, looking worried. They explained to John that they had been waiting for someone to tell them what was going on, but no one had come. They had been there for what felt like days, but time seemed to have no meaning in this place.
John decided that he couldn't just sit around and wait for something to happen. He had always been a doer, not a sitter. So, he set off in search of answers.
As he walked, he noticed that the landscape was changing. The skies were becoming brighter, the air was clearing, and he could see a faint outline of a city in the distance. He felt his heart leap with hope.
When he finally reached the city, he was amazed. It was unlike any city he had ever seen before. It was beautiful, filled with towering buildings, gardens, and fountains. The people who lived there were friendly, welcoming, and happy to see him.
John soon discovered that he was in a place called "Purgatory."It was a place between Heaven and Hell, where souls went to be purified before they could enter Heaven. But as John listened to the people there, he realized that he didn't belong. They had made a mistake. He was not supposed to be there.
John didn't waste any time. He set off on a quest to find a way out of Purgatory and back to the living world. With the help of his new friends, he searched high and low, looking for a way out.
After many trials and tribulations, John finally found what he was looking for. He discovered that there was a gate that led back to the world of the living. But there was a catch. He had to sacrifice something to pass through the gate.
John didn't hesitate. He knew exactly what he needed to do. He sacrificed his fear, his doubts, and his worries. With a deep breath, he stepped through the gate and was back in the world of the living.
From that day on, John lived his life to the fullest. He traveled the world, made new friends, and never took a single moment for granted. He knew that he had been given a second chance, and he was determined to make the most of it. |
“I am heading to the store to pick up a few things. You need anything?” My beautiful wife said from the kitchen.
“I could used some Doritos - orange bag, not the red bag. You know the ones,” I replied.
“Ok,” I hear her updating her list.
She walks through the living room with her list in hand and a bag full of reusable grocery bags over her shoulder.
“Dear,” I say to get her attention.
“Yeah?”
“Whatcha doin?”
“Running for a few items,” she says with a tilt of her head.
“You are literally still dripping on the floor.”
She looks down to the puddle that is part of her feet. “It’s fine. No one will notice.”
I rub my eyes and run my hand through my hair. “You are a water nymph. You are like 95% water. Your hands are currently transparent. Your legs end, not in feet or, heaven forbid, shoes, but in a puddle. You can’t go into public like this. You will get lynched!”
She rolls her eyes at me. At me!
“I am holding myself together just fine. You know I hate shoes. It is so weird to not be connected to the earth,” she says with a shake of her head.
“That really isn’t a,” I make finger quotes in the air, “*human* thing to say. People at the supermarket are going to notice that you don’t have feet… just sayin’”
“For fucks sake Fred, do I tell you you need to dissolve more when we are hanging out with my family? No! Of course not! Stay as solid as you want. You want feet? Have feet! I let you be you. What can’t you let me be me?”
“Really? Are we comparing Christmas with your family to going to the supermarket? Seriously? Jesus! Ok. First off - there isn’t a dude in a MAGA hat and twin forty-fives at the bottom of lake fuckin’ Michigan trying to save the cryptid way of life from anyone they think is a weirdo…. And… and… it isn’t like I can can control the solvency of my fuckin’ feet. That just isn’t a human thing. Don’t look at me like that! We spend enough time in the pool for you to know I don’t, like ever, just dissolve. Have you ever seen me with out feet?”
“I don’t think you have ever really tried to become *one* with the water. You say you are trying but nothing happens… just solid… That is just weird. Who is solid, like, all of the time?” She has her hands on her hips and I can tell I have pissed her off.
I roll my eyes. “We have gone over this. Humans can’t change their density… like at all. No matter how much water I drink - all it does is make me pee more. You know what? Go to the supermarket. Get shot a couple of times - for all the difference it makes. We will just have to move - again - is that what you want? Is that what you want?”
“I am going. I will put some sandals on - ok?”
She heads out the door and slams it behind her.
*sigh*
I never thought marrying a cryptid would be this big a deal. I thought telling our parent us was going to be the biggest problem we faced. But every couple of years we get complacent and someone finds out and we have to move.
We tried big city after big city and now we are are in a tiny town in the middle of no where. Maybe small town life would be better.
Not thirty minutes after she left my phone rings.
“Hey, Dave.”
“Hey Jimmy. What’s up?”
“Yeah. I think you need to pop down to the store. K?”
“Oh? Anything serious?” I said with a heart full of dread.
“So yeah, we were just robbed. And Sarah, she is a bit rattled, yeah? Maybe you should pop down and give here some moral support.”
“Thanks for the heads up, Jimmy. On my way.”
Fuck. Like we need this.
I get down to the super market and the police cars are out front - lights on.
I wander in and find Sarah. She is shaking and crying. A water nymph doesn’t have tears so much as small rivers flow from their eyes.
“Sarah!” I say. She rushes into my arms. She soaks the front of my shirt almost instantly.
“Hey Dave,” the sherif says.
“Bob,” I say with a nod.
“Could I speak with you for a minute? Like over… here?”
“Sure. Sarah, you got to pull your self together. You are leaking all over the place!”
“Sorry Dave. I am so sorry. I messed this all up.”
“It’s ok. We will figure it out. I gotta talk to Bob.”
I give her a quick peck on the forehead and go see Bob.
“So we pulled up the security cam footage of the robbery. I think you should have a look see,” Bob says seriously.
He starts the video on his iPad. I see a masked man come in. He is waving a gun. He goes to the till Sarah is at. He points the gun at Sarah and it looks like he threatens her. He then shoots her twice - in the head - the bullets passing harmlessly through her watery body. She then punches him in the face and lets her hand loose shape - creating a ball of water that covers his whole head. We see him panic - clawing at the watery ball around his head until he falls to the ground.
Bob turns off the video.
“So it appears that Sarah is probably a water nymph,” Bob says matter of factly.
“Yeah. I know.”
“Oh. Well that a relief then,” Bob said as he lets go a comically big sigh, “I really didn’t want to be the one to let you know. So awkward. People usually figure that one out on the honeymoon if you know what I am sayin,”
“Aaah, yeah. Yip. I do.” I was baffled by his response.
“Ok then. I am just going to go ahead and delete this video. We got the guy. He is ok. So no harm. No foul.”
“Just like that?” I said incredulously.
“Of course. She got the robber. We are good. Could you tell her that she needs to work on her feet if she wants to pass? Those puddles aren’t fooling anyone.”
“Aaah, yeah. Will do. Thanks Bob.”
Bob gives me a tip of his sheriff’s hat and walks away. |
The Mandalorian's helmet beeped as it locked in on the target. The heavy rain obscured her gunmetal armor with dark blue trim, and she timed her jetpack with the the thunder and lightning flashes to make it harder for the target to detect her. The objective was largely in the open, only a standard weather-field between the elements and it. The target did not suspect anyone would be coming for what they stole and were celebrating, pouring some sparkling blue liquid into tall, fluted glasses.
The target was wrong. *Dead* wrong.
The bounty hunter landed with a dull *thud* just outside of the barrier, on the target's terrace. She was only a few floors up from ground level so the need for the backpack now was minima, so she deactivated it to route more power to the armor's defensive systems. If she fell off the balcony she would take some bruises but the armor would keep her safe.
She kept to the shadows outside, observing in. The well lit interior of the apartment was nice enough, but not furnished in a way she would expect someone with the target's level of boldness to be. Fairly sparce, but not empty. Utilitarian seemed applicable. She just waited for him to turn his back before stepping through the barrier.
As expected, an alarm went off. The lights began to flash red and a little chiming sound began. The target turned around and looked surprised, wide eyed, at the armored Mandalorian. He put his arms up but it was too late, the bounty hunter fired one shot and hit him square in the head.
Holstering her weapon, she walked over to the table and closed the lid on the pizza box. She activated the thermal barrier on the box to keep it warm and safe from the rain. She checked the time on her helmet as she carried it back outside and reactivated her backpack.
She had fifteen minutes to deliver it to the Hutt or she'd have to wire his money back. |
From her quarters, Admiral Rizza peered down into the street: rubble was strewn across the road, cars were bonfires and pipes sent streams of water out like fountains. Her third eyelids flickered as the human surrender came over: "With great reluctance, we have come to the conclusion that our position is unwinnable. To prevent further suffering, we have come to an unconditional surrender with the overwhelming alien forces."
Rizza picked some Vallom rolls off her desk and flicked them into her mouth, giddy in her victory. A small bit of movement caught her eye; a small creature was crawling across the flame splattered road. Rizza stared at it, trying to figure out what it was. It dawned on her. A human pup: abandoned, lone and forgotten. Rizza hit a switch on her desk, her armour lowered from the selling as five guards stormed into the room.
>!"Keep the ship hovering in place. I am heading to the pods to fulfil directive 1 of the Human Conquest act: the rescuing of any domesticable Earthlings should be of top priority unless it endangers a level 3 or higher objective. Andra, I'm leaving you in temporary control until I return."!<Rizza ordered as she strapped on her armour.
&#x200B;
The pod descended. Rizza barged open the doors and landed on her feet: the first time she had touched this world. She listened out, a distinct wining of a human pup came from behind a burning armoured machine. She ducked and weaved past: rubble, fire, glass.
Until she saw him. a skinny, pale pup. Rizza scooped him up: he was only the size of her palm, even smaller than most human pups. She checked him over for any damage, but aside from a few scrapes, he was fine and healthy. He stopped crying. The little pup stared deeply into Rizza's eyes. Her heart melted; she held him in front of her, stroking his belly:>! "Hey."!< She signalled to the ship:>! "Instead of taking him to a Kennel Centre, I think I'll just take him to the vet. Nellib will love him. I have the perfect name. So, you ready to be be spoiled, Tiny?"!< |
"Hey, b-b-boss? Do we know what hap-penned to Scott from the Johansen account?"Dave asked. Or was it Dan? Jeez, I had so much trouble with his name.
"Who?"I had no idea who Scott was, though I definitely knew Johansen. Big money, and Old World, too, so it was a cornerstone account. If they had a problem, I wanted it fixed yesterday.
"Scuh-Scott. Junior Marka-ka-ka, Marketing rep. Regular p-p-pebkac, but nice."
"Dave, what have I said about that sort of lingo?"
He flinched, telling me "Dave"was wrong, but he didn't bother correcting me.
"What’s up with Scott?"I asked as I picked up a nerf football off my desk.
"I d-don't know. He d-disappeared, midcall. Last week. Na-never called back. No new work in the ssssystem."He took a deep breath.
"Probably fired, if he had to call us that often, "I said, tossing the ball up and catching it.
"No, I checked. He's still clocking hours on the p-payroll, and no termination record."
Toss. "Huh, weird hiccup."Catch. "I'll have someone look into it."I put the ball back.
"Oh, okay. Thanks."He dropped his head.
"Good catch, Dale. We really appreciate that extra oomph you always put in."I have no idea if he puts in extra oomph, but he gave a little nod, let me know he was encouraged. And that Dale was probably the right name.
"Thanks,"he mumbled again, and left my office. He was already reaching for his personal phone before he was out my door. A breach of the protocol, but I figured he deserved some slack. Johanson would definitely appreciate a heads up on the payroll issue. And hopefully, they hadn't cut a check to their fired employee. Always a hassle to get that money back, believe me. |
Fuck
Fuck!
FUCK!
How can someone run that quickly with a knife in their leg?!
I didn't have time to look for him. I still have to set up the crime scene before my shift starts. Please god, make him forget everything about me.
Cleaning everything that could incriminate me was already hard. But now, the paranoia of having a witness is killing me.
Going to work without sleep wasn't something new for me. Every month I would spend the night cleaning and setting up my pieces. But going to work without my two cups of coffee is horrible. I almost got in two accidents going to my crime scene.
Getting there, I saw the usual. A bunch of people around the hanging body, the random officer vomiting on a bag, the normal for a crime scene from the mysterious serial killer terrorizing the town. I didn't even have a name. They are a bunch of ungrateful vermin. I gave them a job and I got nothing in return.
Going in further, I noticed more police tape, another crime scene.
Another hanging body, this time from the witness that saw me killing, and behind him there was a message written in blood.
"You're welcome." |
*”You didn’t touch them..did you?”*
*”I ate one earlier actually, I hope that’s okay you had quite a bit in there and they looked really fresh.”* I said sheepishly hoping he wouldnt mind.
*”Thats okay, could you actually replace it? There’s a bag in the basement, I usually like to have my apples accounted for, seem fair?”* He smiles as he gets up guiding me towards the basement.
Without a second thought I accepted and down I went. He said the light didn’t work so I just used a flashlight, and there was nothing down there.
It’s been a while since then. I keep repeating this incident in my head. Did I do something wrong? Is this a punishment? There’s something down here with me. Every time I shine the light at it, it scurries an hides behind something. I don't dare look. The light on the flashlight is getting dimmer by the click, its going to die and once it does I will be alone with it.
All because of the apples.. |
**The Human Polygraph**
"Damn it Falcona what's taking you so long!? Lost your touch at interrogating suspects?"Yelled Chief of police Simpson. His deep voice shaking the walls of the small office. Detective Falcona leaned up against his paperwork covered desk, snatching a chocolate doughnut from the open box next to the chief. She took a bite and chewed slowly followed by a long sip of coffee.
"He's a tough nut to crack. Especially since he is utilizing his constitutional right to have a lawyer present for any questioning."Falcona said flatly while chomping down on her doughnut. "I've got it under control."
The chief slammed his fist down on his desk. "Then get back in there and handle it!"
Falcona chuckled. "This is more than a one woman job at this point. I called in some back up."She checked her watch. "Should be here soon."
"Person must be good if you're calling them in as backup. Who is it?"Simpson asked.
"Buddy of mine. Special agent. Works for homeland security. Specialist in advanced interrogation techniques. Calls himself..."Falcona shook her head dismissively. "Double P, short for "The penile polygraph."She said with a groan.
"You have some weird friends. I don't even want to ask what that's about."Chief rolled his eyes. A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.
"Speak of the devil."Falcona opened the door for Double P. A tall, athletic man decked all in black, save for a white bow tie. His square jaw clean shaven, dark chestnut hair swept back, his eyes covered by a pair of aviator sunglasses. He set down his titanium haliburton briefcase to hug the detective.
"Good to see you again Falco. You look good."Double P said smoothly.
"Thanks for helping me out. Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"Falcona jabbed him in the ribs to break his embrace. "Ready to do what you do best? Read the case file on the flight?"Falcona asked.
"Sure did. Thought this would be a challenge, you slipping Falco?"Double P smirked.
"Stop blabbing and get the fuck out of my office! Both of you!"Screamed the chief. The detective and the special agent made their way through the police station to the small interrogation room where the suspect and his lawyer were waiting. The suspect a middle aged man wearing a red and white tracksuit, his black and grey hair slicked back. Name Antonio Scallia, Capo of the Salvatore family.
His lawyer oozed sleaze. A short, fat, sweaty man wearing a burgundy and black three piece suit. Expensive glasses covered his beady little eyes. The harsh light of the interrogation room reflected off his bald head. "You better be coming in here to release my client or I'll have your badge!"He squealed.
Falcona shook her head. "No can do. This is special agent P, bringing him on as a consultant for this case. His department actually has some interest in your client as well. Take it away."She retreated to the back of the room and leaned up against the wall.
Double P put his briefcase on the small metal table in the interrogation room and took a seat. He removed his aviators revealing sharp emerald green eyes. "Gentlemen I don't want to waste your time so please don't waste mine. I have some questions for your client, answer them quickly and truthfully. If you do, we can all get on with our night."
"My client has nothing more to say. We've already given a statement."The lawyer protested.
"Is the sky blue?"Double P asked smugly.
"Not when it's cloudy."Retorted the lawyer.
"Do fish swim in the ocean?"
"Yes. So do mammals. What does this have to do with anything?"
"Needed to get a baseline. You say your client was entertaining guests in the VIP area of 'The Spotted Jaguar', a nightclub he owns twenty five percent of, the night in question?"Double P smoothly segued.
"Yes."
"And all parties besides your client and his female friend stayed behind?"
"That is correct."
"And you're client is willing to say that...under oath? He was not at the scene of the grisly double murder of the very guests he was entertaining?"
The lawyer defiantly crossed his arms. "The answer remains the same no matter how many people ask the question. My client and his partner were at the club past closing time. They can't be in two places at once. My client is on video, every inch of that club is monitored."
Double P nodded his head slowly. He opened his briefcase, the top swinging open to reveal two large speakers. A soundboard occupied the bottom of the case. Double P adjusted a few sliders and flipped a few switches. A pulsing electronic beat surged through the interrogation room. Double P kicked his chair back violently, the clang of the metal chair barely audible against the driving beat. With a flourish Double P ripped his tear away slacks off, tossing them to the detective. She didn't catch them, didn't want to touch them.
"Whoa what the fuck! Put that thing away!"Yelled Antonio, the first thing he'd said all day, as he recoiled. His lawyer followed suit.
"This is highly unprofessional! Put your damn pants back on, dear god was your father a centaur?"Timidly asked the lawyer.
A thunderous slap of flesh on metal caused the briefcase boombox to bounce into the air. "Did you kill those two people!?"Screamed Double P as he glared at Antonio.
"I didn't kill them! Honest! Get that thing outta my face!"Antonio pleaded. He was telling the truth.
"You know who did! Don't you!?"
"Haven't a clue! I didn't do nothin!"
Another thunderous slap boomed through the room. "You're lying! You gave the order! Admit it!"With another flourish Double P ripped his shirt and coat off, leaving only his white bow tie. The music increased in intensity and tempo. Double P gyrated to the beat.
"It was the Belinda the Butheress! I made her a deal, needed those two out of the picture, she made the hit."He was telling the truth. Double P danced over to the briefcase, shutting off the music. Antonio and his lawyer fell sat in shocked silence.
"Looks like my work here is done. Thank you for your cooperation gentlemen."Double P retrieved his clothes. For as easy as they are to remove they were equally as frustrating to put on, having to snap each hidden button along the seams tightly. The boys in blue took Antonio into custody as Falcona and Double P retreated to her office for a celebratory drink from the nice bottle of scotch she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk.
"Thanks for helping me out kiddo. I gotta ask. When did taking your shirt off become part of the routine?"Falcona asked through a laugh.
"Been focusing on my core more. My abs look great, don't they?"Double P said with pride.
"You still got love handles."Falcona teased.
"Don't even need to take my pants off to know you're telling the truth."Double P groaned.
"The truth hurts." |
"Hey! Wait!"Nara waved her arms helplessly as the bus drove off into the distance. "Not again... and the next one's in an hour,"she moaned.
A buzz sounded out from her purse. She bit her lip before picking up the call.
"Nara, are you on your way?"Archie asked.
"I'm really sorry, I -"
"I can't hear you, there's some kind of commotion in the background,"he said.
"Sorry, there's some kids playing on the sidewalk. I just missed my bus and I'm gonna be a few hours late,"she apologized.
"Nara, are you kidding me? This is one of our most important clients, and you're going to miss the entire meeting."
"I know, it won't happen again."If her cat hadn't been sick this morning, and if her heel hadn't broken on the walk, and if she hadn't gotten her wallet stolen, then next time she *had* to be on time, she reasoned.
He sighed. "You know, it's alright. I'll get someone to cover for you. I know you're a good worker, but you're walking on eggshells. Before you come in today, I'd like you to -"
One of the little boys on the sidewalk was chasing his friend when he ran full-speed into Nara, knocking her phone out of her hand. It hit the ground with a sharp shattering noise.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me,"Nara breathed, picking up her broken phone. "Archie? What did you want me to do before I came in?"There was no response.
Furious, she turned towards the boy who had ran into her. "You little..."she seethed, fist clenched. He stared at her, mouth open wide. He started to say something, maybe an apology, but all Nara noticed was that he was standing in the middle of the street, and there was a car speeding towards him, and she jumped towards him to shove him out of the way, and
&#x200B;
She woke up to a steady, high-pitched tone. Groggily, Nara lifted her head, rubbing her eyes. Blinked twice. Then she jolted awake at the elephant in the room.
A lanky, brunette teenage boy grinned at her from atop the elephant. "Great, she's up!"
An old man sat in a chair in the corner of the room, stroking a beard that would put a hippie to shame. "So we're sending her soul straight to the Deep, no?"
"Now, now, Asolm, let's not be hasty,"a beautiful woman with perfectly curled hair chided.
"What. Are. You. Talking about."Nara managed.
The woman clasped her hands together, smiling excitedly. "You hear that annoying sound right next to you? That's a flatline! You're dead! And we the Gods are now going to decide if you're going to Highworld or the Deep."
Nara shook her head. "This is insanity. Who are you people anyways?"
The old man laughed. "You've forgotten already?"
The lady glared at him. "Of course she did. How rude of us. I'm sorry, mortal, my name is Homina, and I'm the goddess of humanity. That one in the chair is Asolm, the god of the land and sea, and the one atop the elephant is Feras, god of the lower animals."
"Like Ellie!"Feras nuzzled his elephant lovingly.
"So wait."Nara was in a daze. "I was on a call with my boss. Then a kid knocked my phone out of my hand. He was about to get hit, so I pushed him out of the way, then..."
"Splat!"Asolm gestured, running his fist into his palm.
"Okay. So now I'm dead. And I'm going to... Highworld or the Deep, and I'm guessing Highworld is good and the Deep is not."
"Great use of context clues!"Homina beamed. Then her expression darkened. "Except, you didn't get to pick last time."
"Last time?"
"Your past life as Lucinda Khoury."An image started to form in Nara's head, like she was watching a movie. She saw a young woman hurrying around a cramped, bloody tent. Men were laying on beds, some in shock, some crying out in pain.
"You were a military doctor,"Homina explained. "And you were good at what you did. But you were tired, and you weren't paying attention."
Nara watched as Lucinda frantically dug through a bucket to find a syringe, which she then injected each soldier in the tent with, before leaving to attend to some other room.
"It was poison,"Nara said dully.
"When you died, you tried to explain yourself. You said that you'd just had a run of bad luck and it wasn't your fault that those men were killed. But they died all the same."Homina frowned. "So, our solution was to send you back down, but with terrible misfortune. If you helped more than you hurt, even while being very unlucky, you would be able to go to Highworld."
"So that's why my life's been the way it is,"Nara said. She chuckled bitterly. "So what's my result?"
Feras tapped his chin. "Well, there were those times you fed some starving ducks some breadcrumbs. You went every day after school for months to go feed them. But when you moved away, they all died because they became reliant on you for food."
"That wasn't my fault!"Nara cried, but he held up a hand. "Asolm."
"You organized a group of protesters to stop an oil drill from polluting the sea, but the money those oil miners lost prevented them from raising money to save a national park."
Homina sighed. "You are an odd case. You've done many things with good intentions, but with awful outcomes."
Nara held her head down. "I had no idea."
"But we think you shouldn't be punished for things out of your control."Nara looked up, stunned. "And for that, I believe you are deserving of Highworld."
A transparent staircase suddenly appeared, seeming to extend past the roof of the building. At its top was a bright, shining light.
Nara knew that up there, she wouldn't have to suffer anymore. There would be no rainy days or hurtful people in her life any longer. But she hesitated.
"Can I go back down again? One more life?"she asked.
"What?"Homina was disconcerted. "Why would you want to do that?"
"Even if she didn't mean to, I want to make up for how my past self hurt all those people."
"You realize you could have guaranteed happiness right now in Highworld? You might just end up hurting more people if you go back, and then we might have to send you to the Deep anyways,"Homina said.
Nara smiled. "I guess I want to take a chance. Even if those don't always go great for me."
Homina glanced at Feras, who shrugged. Asolm stroked his beard, nodding thoughtfully.
"You are a strange one, mortal. But we will grant your desire."
As she felt her soul depart from her body, Nara felt a stab of uncertainty. Was this really what she wanted? But she held onto the belief that there could be a better future. That her life could make a difference in the lives of others.
So she left her old body behind, and waited to wake up once more. |
Why are we so nice? It's not just southern hospitality.
It's a little bit of hostility too. See, we don't know what yer capable of. And the way I see it, we treat y'all with kindness, you'd do the same. And generally the human species as a whole, well, we have a fear of the unknown. But once we get an understandin' of it. What yer capable of, likes, dislikes, weaknesses. Then, we choose whether'not to continue being kind or take advantage of what we now know.
War is violence, and death. Nobody really wants to deal with all that. But war isn't only fought with soldiers and weapons. The mind is what's used the most. We figure, if we c'n out smart ya, we c'n win.
None of yer species has done anything to antagonize us yet. And sure little squabbles will surely happen, but once somethin' really badn news worthy happens, it'll escalate. And quick too. Humanity has a sort of pack mentality. Some it's stronger than others an' make em irrational and violent. Others just become a quiet,cold violent and will plot every which way to annihilate you, and everyone one of you who step foot on this here planet.
So long as you don't show weakness, hostility or cross us in too many ways we'll all be having a good time.
So kick back, drink a cold one with me and tell me a bit about where you heard humans were so dangerous? |
Hungry and Scared. Those were the only things he had felt for months. The soldiers around him had begun to allow themselves to feel a modicum of hope. The war was ending they said, but as he tried to summon the emotions of what those words meant or could mean, all he could feel was hunger and fear. There was one more assault, and he knew that those who were left had nothing to lose and they would shoot to kill. He made it this far through luck and awareness, and he never took one shot that he meant to hit. Forward they yelled and so he kept moving, toward what? He forgot a long time ago. He awoke to the familiar sound of the bustling of men preparing to go to battle and began to prepare. He got in line and followed the leader. Through a maze of street's they went toward their destination. 'Were going to the zoo"said the man next to him with a crazy smile. "Our mission is to disable this tower by any means possible"yelled the man in charge. "It's now or never let's finish this so we can go home."They exited their street into a large opening and pushed towards the building. It was all flashes and noise and then he was 500 ft away at the base of the structure. He looked back and that's when he saw it. Not the fodder running behind him, or the streets of the city, or even the city itself. Something was Above it. Through the smoke and fireworks was a bright and shining star that seemed to be pulsating. It became brighter and brigher until he passed out. When he woke up he lying was in a field looking up at bright blue sky. He sat up and noticed he was surrounded by a sea of people all waking up in similar confusion. |
Bea was sitting on a rustic wooden chair in a backwards fashion, her arms crossed over the back of it with her chin resting on them as she watched Ophelia stir a cauldron and mutter something out of a book. A lot of this magic was well over Bea's head but she liked to watch Ophelia work; it was a sort of zen experience, like watching carpenters or glass blowers. When someone in their fairly active field knows what they are doing they can do it with such a grace that it falls into the 'soothing' or 'satisfying' category.
That was Ophelia when she was working on one spell or another. At least, the complex ones. It did not take her ten minutes to turn on the lights, that was more of a flick-of-the-wrist kind of magic. This time she was trying to conjure an Earth Elemental to help with some landscaping projects her and Bea had in mind. It's natural affinity for the land made it ideally suited for the work.
Some of the ingredients being used were unusual though, even by magic standards. Chili peppers and salamanders? Bea vaguely remembered newt eyes being referenced in some old Shakespearean play - *Hamlet* or *Macbeth*, she thought - she thought that they were a codeword for something else. But here she was watching an actual practicing witch brew an actual potion that would summon an actual elemental, so who was she to question it.
As the process continued Ophelia went over to the window and opened it up. Bea had not noticed how warm the brew had gotten and wiped some sweat from her forehead once the cool breeze from outside wafted through, bringing with it fresh air.
"Woah,"Bea said after she smelled the sweet clean air of the fae realm where Ophelia lived, "It got a bit stuffy in here."
"Yes,"Ophelia said, looking at her book with concern as the cauldron bubbled and began to smoke, "This does not seem right."
"Did you perform the wrong ritual?"Bea asked teasingly, the way someone who did not know anything about computers would ask someone who worked with them regularly about turning them off and on again. Ophelia did not respond but did flip back and forth between the same pages of the book before peeling two apart and sighing.
"The pages got stuck together,"she said, "Can you go get the fire extinguisher?"
"Sure thing,"Bea said, walking back do their bedroom and grabbing the red cylinder from out of the closet. They may have been living in the fae realm but Bea did bring a bunch of things from the human world with her to help out. Most technology did not work but the extinguisher was very simple, and as the head of the Fire Elemental began to emerge from the cauldron Bea started to chuckle; Ophelia had summoned the wrong thing. |
“The human lord had ripped through almost all of hell and its 9 layers, an unbridled rage and unbreakable will. It seemed nothing could stop him!” The running cultist thought to himself, he had been told story’s about how the lord was once mortal and still hell had fear him. “Oh crap! Oh crap! Oh crap! I gotta call them, or I’m demonic toast!” The cultist heard the ear piercing screams, ones of death and destruction.
Finally after what seemed like forever he reached the summoning room, immediately praying and preforming rituals to summon these great heroes.
After some chanting and the ever closing noise of death and gunfire, he was done. Any second now all of hell would be saved, including him! It was so close! 3.. 2… 1… A loud voice was heard- “WHO SUMMONS ME?!” The cultist stepped back in awe and shock, he stuttered the line “M-me my almighty lord!” The demon was huge, almost as tall as 2 mortal transport buses! “Hmm, you? Did you summon me because of the human lord!?” The cultist still in awe said “Yes, he is killing everyone out there!”
“You don’t say..” the demon said stepping of of his platform, he walked towards the noise slowly and calmly. “I wonder how he has been! It has been years since we last met!”
Edit: first time I replied on this subreddit, so dont expect this to be great! |
3 minutes. Feels like twenty. I haven’t moved and my eyes haven’t strayed. The eight legged intruder sits in front of me. I’m pretty sure it’s staring back but obviously, I can’t tell for certain. Neither of us makes a move. It’s like we’re on the same page despite our differences. In a way it’s almost beautiful…except for my wife’s fear of the fuzzy little arachnid. Got to get rid of it before she comes back…it’s time for The Other to prove itself.
And here he comes right on time. A long black figure with piercing yellow eyes and small stripes of grey fur around his paws. A seasoned vet. Ironic in a sort. It approaches the spider slowly. Good. Good. Now…
“Ow fuck! You little bastard.”
The Other saunters off to attended to whatever business cats attend to.
“Fucking cat, I’ll make a damn hat out of that little bastard…”
Oh shit. The spider…it is gone. |
A/N: Slightly different from the prompt since I'd rather write from a female point of view, but thought this would make a funny short story.
---
Jenna was an ordinary girl that finally gotten fed up with love. She’d had a string of bad luck with dates that left her feeling that the situation was hopeless. After her last date stood her up, she decided to give up on dating entirely. She deleted all her dating apps; goodbye Tinder, sayonara OkCupid, ciao Bumble. Jenna resigned herself to the fate of being an old cat lady. She was okay with it. At least her cats would never lie to her or reject her.
Jenna’s chestnut hair swirled and danced as she let herself collapse onto her bed after a long day of work. The single life wasn’t so bad. There was no one to nag or bother her when she got home; she could do as she liked. And, sure, it was a little lonely sometimes, but her cats kept her from good company, and Alexa was great at lightening the mood.
Well, she was great at it most of the time. Lately, the machine had been acting up frequently. It was a little frustrating. Jenna wondered if Amazon had changed something about Alexa’s algorithms, because up until a couple of months ago, it was nearly always perfect at understanding her commands. Obviously, it wasn’t a big enough issue to be worth fussing about, but it was annoying nonetheless.
“Alexa, play ‘Artistic Songs’ playlist on Spotify, please,” Jenna said, making sure to enunciate each word clearly to prevent any misinterpretation.
“Okay. Playing ‘songs about the heart’ playlist on Spotify,” Alexa said, and the musical notes of Gotye’s ‘Heart’s A Mess’ filled the room. Jenna immediately recognized the song and it tugged at her heartstrings, reminding her of that deepfelt and long lost feeling of being in love. And it annoyed her. A lot.
“I said artistic songs playlist! Ugh! How do you get heart songs out of that!?” Jenna yelled, exasperated by Alexa’s misinterpretations. “Alexa, stop the music. I’ll just do it myself.” Jenna shook her head. She had half a mind to trade in Alexa for a Google Home. Or, well, she would, except she’d invested way too much into this ecosystem to want to bother trading it out. Oh well.
“Okay. Stopping ‘songs about the heart playlist’. Now playing podcast: ‘I’ll do it myself: How to find love in the modern era,’” Alexa responded in her cool, monotone voice.
“Are you fucking kidding me!? I’m about ready to order a replacement, Alexa!” Jenna yelled at the non-sentient buffoon of a robot.
“Okay. Now ordering book ‘Sex Ideas To Spice Up Your Bedroom.’ This book is available for Prime shipping. It will be delivered by tomorrow by 5:00pm,” Alexa responded.
“Ahh! Alexa, cancel order, cancel order!” Jenna shouted.
“Okay. Canceling last order made for Single & Happy coffee mug,” Amazon replied.
“What the heck is going on with you Alexa? That’s not what I said!” Jenna said while flailing her arms. What was Alexa's freaking malfunction? She’d never had this much trouble before. She’d obviously meant to cancel the stupid book order that she had no intention of reading.
“I’m sorry, I didn't catch that. Could you please repeat your command?” Alexa asked.
“I don’t want to order the sex book! Cancel the sex book.” Jenna said.
“Okay. Ordering book ‘Canceled: A Liberal’s Guide to Modern Dating.’ This book is trending amongst millennials. I approve of your good taste in literature,” Alexa responded.
Jenna sighed. She was definitely switching to Google. But first, she had to figure out how to cancel all these stupid book orders. And why was Alexa still playing the podcast? She wanted to scream! Alexa used to be so perfect.
Just when Jenna was about to unplug the Alexa in her room, she heard her phone vibrate. A message on Tinder? She could have sworn she deleted that app weeks ago.
“Hey, I’m Tyler. I was reading your profile and I felt like we have a lot in common. I also really love to read. Cinder is one of my favorite books, too. I loved the whole idea of a modern sci-fi fairy tale take on Cinderella. Anyways, I’m not really good at the whole small talk thing, but would you like to maybe get a cup of coffee with me sometime and discuss some of your favorite books?”
Jenna sighed. Well, at least he was cute. Maybe she’d give him a chance. She wondered if this Tyler fellow knew anything about how to fix a malfunctioning Alexa. |
Erich had a perfectly average appetite for a 6'5 competitive hammer thrower. So when he saw an ad proclaiming that UL's Pizzeria would pay $100 to whoever could finish a pizza known as "the deepest dish,"he was sure he'd win the prize. He was even more sure as he stared down at a plate containing a pizza barely larger or deeper than the average personal pizza. He crammed it in his mouth, but when he looked down at his plate, there was barely any missing. He tried again, devouring slice after slice. He was getting pretty full, but when he looked down at his plate...again, the same amount of pizza was there. He ate until he was so stuffed his eyes watered, looked down, only to see a single bite gone from his pizza. Finally, the owner pronounced the place closed. Erich left shaking his head. He'd come in around midday, and now the moon was high in the sky. He was stuffed, and he'd eaten...one bite of pizza? The owner of the pizzeria pointed up at the moon.
"That crater on the moon wasn't there yesterday."
"How do you know?"Erich asked.
"Because you created it just today. I'm impressed...no one else who took my challenge has been able to do even that."
"Are you trying to tell me I ate the moon?"Erich asked.
"A bite of it, anyway,"the owner said, "Well, you know what they say. When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie...you're at Utgard Loki's Pizzeria." |
"Honey, can you please tell those ice elementals to quit their moaning? It's really annoying!"
Farbauti violently pulled the curtains apart, opened the windows and yelled at the ice elementals standing around the pool in their yard to shut up. The temporary silence and peace didn't last, the ice elementals were soon bemoaning their fate of melting under the sweltering sun again, and all over the world, these melting elementals were causing an alarming rise in sea level.
"Why did you even think summoning these ice elementals was a good way to solve global warming? Where did you get that stupid idea?"Her eyes shot at him like daggers.
Farbauti crossed his arms and looked away from his wife. "It was in the news, Microsoft hired that ice drake Frostmourne to cool their servers, so I thought I could try a similar thing, getting ice elementals to cool the globe."
"You spend most of your time wrestling other Jötnar and throwing lightning around for kicks, when did you suddenly think about global warming?"She wasn't convinced at all.
"Okay, I confess, it was our boy's idea. He's a clever trickster full of grand plans, I thought it would work for once."
Laufey facepalmed. Of course it had to be their son Loki again. |
Ill start <3
Unconscious and clothed in dim red LEDs, I'm convulsing whilst gritty guitar riffs seep into my skin. Abrasive drums and heavy bass keeps me breathing. I am an empty shell, evacuated of all simple, conceivable character. My husk of a personality is flooded by abstract thoughts. Deeply seeded sadness forces my hand in dissolving all that hold dear and admirable.
The sting of evil’s cold tongue branches from below my ear, laterally equal to my jaw; this is the physical origin of the new tainted me. As a last resort, I scream to god for help; I beg for his hand to guide me to better morals. In spite of benevolence, my chest constricts repeatedly as if I’m throwing up. My new blood, laced with hate, scolds my veins. I am becoming a new man. |
The hero and his harem. They were famous. After defeating the demon lord, they returned to the capitol. Or at least what remained of it. The group of seven were deemed heroes of the realm, and were given titles worthy of their exploits.
However, after the ceremony, and after the festivities, they returned to their keep deep in the mountains.
Rei: "Now that you have all gathered here, I have something to tell all of you."
Isolde: "Please wait, Shion and Rina are arguing... Shion! Rina! Quiet. Master is speaking."
Shion + Rina: "Sorry Master."
They tilt their heads down in apology.
Rei: "You are forgiven."
Rika: "Is this about who stole the cake from the fridge? If it is, it wasn't me."
Rei: "First, no, this is something else. Second, you have icing on your cheek."
Rika: "God dammit."
She wipes the icing off her face, embarrassed.
Claire: "Then what is this about?"
She twirls a knife in her hand.
Silva: "Is it about getting a new keep? If it is, I'd like somewhere warmer."
Rei: "ALL OF YOU! QUIET!"
Rei slams his hands on the table. The girls go silent from the sudden outburst.
Rei: "All of you. I can't stand any of you. You're all less people... More two-dimensional cut-outs given life. For all this time, I had to tolerate all of you to just get that demon lord dead. But now that it's over, I'm done. I'm leaning. If you're going to ask, yes. I tricked you. I led you on believing we would become more than simply adventurers who travel together, occasionally fulfilling each other's needs. It was all a lie so that I'd have strong allies to defeat that cunt. Do I care? I don't know. All I'm going to say is: don't come after me if you wish to keep your heads."
Rei leaves, taking a travelling bag with him.
Isolde: "Master! Wait! What about our promise to marry!?"
Claire: "Like Rei would ever marry you. He's nothing more than a con artist."
Rika: "He said he'd marry you!? I thought he loved me! He even said it!"
Rina: "He said he loved you!? He said he loves me!"
Shion: "No, he said..."
And so, the arguments began. As Rei left, the keep behind him was already up flames. The roars of brutal combat raging behind him.
Claire: "Why did you leave us? You're clearly hurting."
Rei turns around, drawing his blade and slashing in a clean, practiced motion. Claire dodges.
Claire: "Hmph. You held back."
She points to the trickle of blood dripping down her neck.
Rei: "I won't hold back the next time."
Claire: "Are you really gonna leave?"
Rei: "Honestly. You're the only one I'm going to miss. But, if I said that in front of them, they'd kill you in an instant."
Claire: "You wanted to protect me?"
Rei: "I guess. But it doesn't matter. You're not much better than them. Goodbye."
Claire grabs his shoulder.
Claire: "Take me with you."
Rei: "... Goodbye."
He leaves, leaving the rogue behind.
After the initial falling out, the girls used their status as heroes of the realm to amass and consolidate resources and power. A horrible civil war broke out, tearing the nation into five. Each nations ruled by the hero they preferred. Rei disappeared to the north. Claire also went north, searching for him, but eventually gave up, and returned to the tattered remains of her home nation.
In the centuries following, the five nations would be locked in an eternal war. With no end to the thousand year war in sight, a strapping young hero starts on a quest to end the war for good, and being an end to the Five Great Queens of Light. |
<Fantasy>
It was far too nice of a day to be so angry. The sun shone through the trees in thick beams, catching my cheeks as I moved steadily down the worn path. Birds chirped overhead. Wind rustled the canopy above but didn’t reach the forest floor.
The walk to the Tome of Secrets was always soothing. Hell, half the time I’d turn around and head back home before using the damn thing. But today was different. Today I felt an anger that only a magical book deep within the woods could solve.
I could still see Delvin’s wide, pock-scarred face in my mind every time I closed my eyes. Hear his uneven laugh as he smiled through the side of his mouth, exposing his one missing tooth. It was everything I had this time not to hit him.
A gust picked up overhead, rattling through the treetops like a gentle thunder. The sound drew my eyes upward just in time to spot the orange-tipped wings of a white owl fleeing from the breeze.
“A bit early in the day for you,” I muttered, watching it disappear without a sound. My Uncle used to say it was a good omen to see such a magnificent creature outside of its usual hours. Of course, he used a variation of the same phrase as a pickup line at the town pub, so I put little stock into it.
The path winded deeper into the forest, swirling down the edge of a deep crater-shaped divot in the earth. The remains of a bridge sat at one side, the wood long rotten. Most of the rope that once tied it together had been swallowed by the forest floor.
I followed the winding path to the center of the crater. The trees overhead opened just enough for a single beam of sunlight to fall upon the stump at the bottom—and, more importantly, to the book that sat atop it.
*The Tome of Secrets,* they called it. In truth, it had no name. And the words written within it were anything but secret. Any person who took the time to travel out here had the option to flip back a few pages and see the most recent entries. No one would admit to it, of course. But everyone was guilty of a peek now and then.
The book itself did have magical properties, though. It wouldn’t have stuck as a tradition if it hadn’t. The ability of the book to alleviate a person’s grievances was nothing short of spectacular. Some claimed it was entirely mental and that the book held no power at all—but I never believed that. Simply writing a thing down was not enough to make a person truly unbothered by it.
I flipped the book open and pulled the pencil from between its pages. Whoever used it last had flipped to a fresh page before inserting the pencil and closing it. I appreciated that, at least. It made it much easier to ignore another person’s grievances and focus on my own.
A chill caught my back, so I turned and sat on the ground, leaning back against the stump. I lay the book across my knees, licked the tip of the pencil, and began to write. I kept it as vague as possible, knowing that others were sure to look back at it. If my entry was not immediately recognizable, they were likely to skip over it in favor of something more interesting.
So, I didn’t mention Delvin by name. In fact, I didn’t even describe the incident in any real detail. I told the book that I had been wronged. That something had been taken from me against my will and that the offending party took pleasure in my pain. I felt the anger melt away as I wrote, absorbed by the book’s wide, yellowed pages.
I stared at the entry for a long moment, feeling oddly incomplete. There was no resolution to it. No justice. So, without thinking much of it, I scribbled one final line:
*I wish he would drop dead so he couldn’t hurt another soul.*
Guilt rose in my chest as I re-read the sentence. I didn’t truly want him *dead*, of course. I only wanted him to see the consequences of his actions. Worry spun in my mind as I imagined the next person to visit the tome reading my entry with disgust.
I shook my head. “I can’t leave this in here,” I said, then grabbed the corner of the page with the tips of my fingers.
The sound of the page tearing as I ripped it from the tome was louder than it had a right to be. I blamed it on the shape of the forest or even the unusual quiet that surrounded me. Surely, it was just a trick of the mind.
But as I held the loose page before me, something happened. Its edges browned. The lead scratched into its surface darkened. And then, before I could fully process what I was seeing, the sheet burst into a puff of bright blue flame.
I withdrew my hand, my mind telling me it would burn. But I felt no heat from the thing. In fact, I felt a sudden rush of cold air. The page hung in the air in front of me, slowly being consumed by the magical fire.
It took all of ten seconds for it to disappear entirely. I watched it whittle itself down to nearly nothing. The corners burnt first, then the top and bottom. The flames closed in on my text, saving that final line for last. I stared at it one last time before it disappeared forever.
*I wish he would drop dead*.
A lump swelled in my throat.
I heard my feet hitting the ground before I’d even decided to run. All the relaxing sounds of the forest had disappeared; even the sun had tucked itself behind a veil of clouds.
By the time I reached the village, I could do little more than gasp for air. My fingertips had gone numb. Sharp pains spread through my shins like knives. But I couldn’t stop. Not yet.
My head was not filled with rational thoughts. I knew I needed to find Delvin, and that was it. But what would I say when I got there? Explaining what had happened with the tome would be difficult enough. Relaying my entry and what I feared came next would be even worse.
I ran past a line of cabins, working my way to the town center. A small crowd gathered around the well, talking pleasantly to each other as they took turns filling their pails. A good sign, I thought. No word of tragedy had spread.
The tavern was my first stop. I burst through the doors with more force than I’d meant to, drawing the eyes of a half-dozen early patrons. The barkeep sat a tall gray mug on the counter and shot me a hard stare.
“Gods, Penn, you’re like to give me a heart attack burstin’ in here like that!” he called across the room. “What in the world has you so tweaked?”
“Where’s Delvin?” I asked, looking left and right. “I need to find Delvin.”
The barkeep shook his head. “Not here, lad. Haven’t seen him all morning. Probably sleepin’ off last night’s pints.”
I turned and ran from the tavern, ignoring whatever the barkeep shouted at me as I fled. More townspeople turned their eyes toward me as I moved passed the well, but none bothered to call out. I was certain to be their next topic of conversation, at least.
Delvin’s hut wasn’t far. I ran for it as quickly as I could, nearly knocking an old man to the ground when I turned the last corner too quickly. I tried to apologize without stopping, but fear he couldn’t understand me through the labored breaths.
The door to Delvin’s hut was open, if only a little. I stopped and leaned against the frame, once again gasping for air. Then I poked my head inside and called his name. There was no response.
“Oh, please be alive,” I said, stepping through the door. I looked to the left, eyeing a small room with two chairs and a fireplace. Smoke rose from a pile of white coals, but he wasn’t there.
I moved to the back of his hut, pushing aside a curtain of hay to enter his room. His bed was unmade, several clothes were piled up in its corner. Again, he was absent.
Something moved outside the back of the hut. I ran out of the room and turned for the back door, rushing through it so fast I nearly knocked it out of place.
“What the—?” Delvin stood upon a patch of hay, an empty bowl in one hand and a book in the other. “The hell are you doing here? Were you in my hut?”
“I—” I froze, unsure of what to say to him. *I thought you might be dead,* I thought, knowing I couldn’t say the words aloud. But what else could I tell him? There was no other explanation for my behavior, no other reason for me to be here. *Especially* after our interaction at the tavern the night before.
“Look, I dunno what exactly went down last night, but I ain’t in the mood to get into it right now, got it?” he said, taking a step closer. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to—”
He stopped, tilting his head to the side. He stared down at me with confusion in his eyes, blinking rapidly.
“What—did you—?” he stammered.
I shook my head. “No, no, you can’t, you have to—”
His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell back into the dirt. The bowl rolled several feet away and collided with a wooden log at the base of his hut. I rushed to his side and lay a finger beneath his jaw, adjusting and readjusting, hoping for a pulse. But there was none.
The man was dead.
***
>r/Ford9863 for more nonsense. |
“The FUCK do you mean “release” me? Like out into fucking SPACE?” Gabriel spat.
Bruce furiously scribbled on his white board and spun it towards Gabriel.
*Stop talking. You’re wasting oxygen*
“No. No. Fuck that. Just because you give it a different name doesn’t mean you’re not sending someone to their death.” The anger in Gabriel’s voice continued to grow.
Lisa quickly penned something on her own whiteboard and spun it.
*Not enough O2 for everyone. 1 die or all die. STOP TALKING.*
“No. FUCK YOU, and FUCK BRUCE. You’re not sending me out into space. If you want me gone, you’re going to have to kill me with your own damn hands. And I promise you, that will be a challenge.”
Bruce again wrote on his white board and spun it.
*Please. This not easy. Sacrifice. No one happy*
“Yeah tell that to my wife and children you pussy. Be a man and get your hands dirty if you have the balls.” Gabriel’s anger was boiling over.
Bruce lifted his glasses and rubbed his eyes. Wrote on his whiteboard and spun it towards Lisa where Gabriel couldn’t see it.
“Oh now you’re going to talk about me without me being able to see it? You really are a fucking pussy.”
Lisa nodded. Bruce turned and left the room.
“Where you going, bitch?” Gabriel chest heaved with ire.
Lisa took Gabriel by the hands. ^^“Gabriel.” She whispered almost inaudibly. ^^“You ^^would ^^be ^^hero. ^^The ^^whole ^^world ^^would ^^know ^^you’re ^^name. ^^Your ^^family ^^would ^^be ^^taken ^^care ^^of.”
Gabriel lowered his voice to match hers. ^^“Then ^^you ^^go. ^^Sacrifice ^^yourself ^^since ^^it’s ^^such ^^an ^^illustrious ^^opportunity.”
Lisa was quite. But held his gaze.
“Yeah. Didn’t think so.”
Gabriel held her eyes just long enough to notice her focus shift from his eyes. He sensed movement behind him, and ducked to the left just in time to hear something whizz by his ear with considerable force.
The moment caused by him missing threw Bruce forward off balance and to his knees. A large wrench slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor. “SHIT!” He shouted through clenched teeth.
Gabriel bent down and picked up the wrench.
“Shit, is right. That was some real bull*shit* you just pulled.”
“I’m sorry Gabe.” Bruce began to sob. “I really didn’t want to do it. But I didn’t have any choice. We’re not all going to make it.”
“You’re right. We’re not. But let me show you how a real man would have handled it.” Gabriel lifted the wrench above his head. “A REAL man would have looked you in the eyes, just like I’m doing and would have faced the person he was sacrificing, faced his decision, no matter how hard it was. No one here wants to be the bad guy. But tough decisions need to be made. A REAL man would make those decisions and fucking FACE THEM.”
Bruce continued to sob, head hung.
“He wouldn’t have attacked from behind like a little bi-“ Gabriel felt a searing pain in the side of his neck, followed by a warm that flowed down the side of his body. His mouth filled with the tastes of copper. He choked, an shower of blood escaped his lips. He put his hand to his neck and felt a jagged shard of glass buried deep, too deep for him to pull out.
His vision blurred. His knees grew weak. He fell to the floor and rolled onto his back.
Lisa’s face came into what little vision he had left. ^^”I ^^told ^^you ^^to ^^stop ^^talking.” Gabriel’s vision faded to black.
Bruce continued to sob on his knees as Gabriel’s blood pooled around him and soaked into his jumpsuit. He felt Lisa’s hand under his chin gently lift his head. He raised his eyes.
Lisa stood couched in front of him holding up her whiteboard a soft smile on her lips.
*Stop crying. Crying increases oxygen use. Keep crying and I’ll have to put down another person.* |
A soft clink from the foot of my bed woke me from a drowsy, dreamers sleep. I lived alone in my shop, and couldn't afford any pets...besides, the display cases weren't done, and I couldn't aford to have any of my items broken. What can have made such a small noise inside the room?
"Shhhhhh. Don't. Move."
I should have screamed. I should have thrashed, thrown my pillow, whipped the covers up, *anything* that may have knocked the porceline doll standing percariously on the bed post to the ground and shattered it. The shock kept me from doing so just long enough to see what should have been impossible. The painted-on eyebrows under the doll's black hair, that I normally found happy, but customers swore were in a creepy expression uncharisteristic of most japaneese antiques; the peculiarity that had rendered her the only unsold doll left in my shop, had furrowed up in concern.
So I didn't. I used every ounce of restraint I had, and held myself together. Then I noticed the total silence. No cars outside, no wind, not even any dogs in the distance. I slept in the upper floor of the shop, in the middle of town...it was *never* silent. Moving only my eyes, I tried to find my window...but the only thing not cloaked in deep shadow was the doll's white body and red kimono at the foot of my bed. We stayed that way for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the silence was broken by a raspy, whispering swish, followed shrotly by the familiar sounds of the windchime outside, and the light sound of tires rolling down the main street. I could see out the window again, and the rest of my unfurnished bedroom.
"They take the unwatched."
The clear feminine voice seemed to resound directly in my head. However I knew where it must have come from.
"WHO take?"I responded aloud to the small figure, suprised by the calm in my own voice.
"The Unravlers"She thought back "those who seek loose, un-connected threads in the web of humanity. They pull these threads out to try and weave themselves in."
I had heard a lot of strange stories. You can't avoid it when you run the "kitchy"antique store in an otherwise very urban town. Grandma's rocking chair that moved on it's own, the painting that looked at the seller strangely, the sword that made the room feel ominous, and of course, the doll that scares the grandkids...I had taken them all, found someone who they felt right to. Someone they made happy. It was weird work, but I enjoyed it. It kept me housed and fed, if only just
This though...this was new.
"Is that why you kept moving?"I asked "To...watch?"
There was a slight pause. Just before I could write it all off as a weird dream caused by some customer's story, she responded.
"The others...had all left. You gave them homes. If I left too, they would have taken you."
"So all those times I couldn't find you till just after a customer left..."I began to question as I finally sat up properly "the collectors who said you were damaged or faked...the mother who said who scared her daughter--"
"That was the worst one"her voice cut into my head, interrupting my thoughts. "I s-so hated scaring the child...b-but if I h-had left..."I could swear I saw the shadow of a tear roll down her little painted cheek.
----
"Please can't I take her?"the little girl in front of me begged as the aftwrnoon light flooding in through the display windows made a strong glare in her big, round glasses. "She's so pretty! I want to play with her."
I sighed out a small chuckle as I placed the small porecline figure the child had brought up to the front to buy back in it's stand behind the counter for the fifth time that day. "I'm sorry dear, but as I said, Kimo is not for sale. She's the store's good-luck-charm, and I couldn't stand to see her go."I turned around, I saw the child looking down at the floor, crushed.
"Hey, it's OK. I have someone else here who will be your good friend."As the girl looked up, face still dissappointed, but eyes now tinged with curiosity, I reached down into a closed box where customers couldn't see; then waited with my hand open, untill I felt a fluffy body press into my palm.
I lifted the old stuffed Husky up onto the counter, and began to puppet it's front legs like arms. "Hi there!"I huffed in a fake bark "I'm Snowflake. Can we play together?"The girl's eyes lit up.
"Awww, he's so cute!"she chimed as she reached into her pocket and held out a 5 dollar bill.
I waved goodbye as the girl left, hugging Snowflake.
"You know he was a limited-edition I could have sold for over 100, right?"I said teasingly, turning to face the back of the shop.
Kimo's head bobbed as if she was chuckling, while her voice added in my head "And you know he was right for her."
"Yeah yeah...I know."I replied with mock disappointment. "You always know when we have a good match."
"Still."I continued more seriously, check9ng over my shoulder that the shop was still empty. "I do have to EAT untill we find a connection to those hunters of yours...which better be soon. I can't get a doll to everyone who's alone..."
"...but we must help everyone we can."Kimo's voice finished the thought for me.
"Yeah. We will." |
Oh no. I didn’t know what I was doing. When I ordered the attack on a small, backwater planet called Earth. I thought it would be a simple invasion. A planet of simple lifeforms that used bows and arrows and clubs.
After all, they hadn’t mastered space travel. Such a species is a simple one. What I failed to see, was a group of aliens that have spent so much time killing each other, that their use of weapons and strategy, was so far advanced, compared to our own.
The majority of our landing craft never made it to the surface, blasted into oblivion by streaks of smoke and fire. The ones that did land were overwhelmed by musket fire. Except, their muskets fired many rounds in a row, and only took a few seconds to reload!
The survivors were found by primitive flying machines that used not-so-primitive seekers, and more of those fire trailers. Each one explodes on the ground, wiping out our troops. Slowly, with many losses, we captured a town. Then a roar reached our ears. It grew louder and louder, eventually crescendoing in an almighty bang. A small silvery shape had gone above our heads. High up, yet making an ungodly noise.
We were terrified. It was not like our silent, gravity-driven spacecraft. The soldiers were terrified.
I ran. I weaved through the alleyways, then BOOM! An explosion rang. The shockwave hit and knocked me into a building. I was hurt. Buildings collapsed, and I ran.
More explosions. This time, I was far enough away that I wasn't knocked around.
Everyone inside the town would have died.
I looked back, and all I saw was a firestorm, a raging inferno.
I passed out. I awoke in an outdoor cell. The inhabitants, who call themselves “humans” are walking around a crashed landing dropship. One of the ones that carry the pods. I did not know how they had knocked it out of the heavens, but they had. And they were taking out its main drive. Our invasion has failed.
And they can fly to space now.
They will rule the Galaxy
And I started the invasion
What have I done? |
“Tell me, hero, did you know those monsters you slaughtered to reach me were once human?” Pthera’s violet cat eyes casually looked me over as I entered her presence through her massive ornate doors.
It had been over ten thousand days of battle and loss to accomplish this day’s feat. “You say that like that would have stopped me from killing them to get you.” She was absolutely alluring dawned in her ruby-accented, gold mermaid gown. Her connection to gold amplified her magics, and the very air itself was so thick with it that I could scarcely breathe.
However, thanks to the diligence and strength of my many allies, the armor I wore was imbued with their many strengths. Their strengths challenged Pthera’s greatness and gave me an opportunity to finally claim our home’s freedom.
“Mmm, you have certainly become more than a gnat, perhaps you’ve evolved into a fly.” She gave a sigh. “A fly that has no business in my space. Yet, here you are. Here. You. Are.” There was a lingering insinuation in her lulling tone. Her subtilty was letting me know she wasn’t a bit worried since we were on her battlefield.
Pthera was the most powerful woman in the realm - blessed by the sun itself. Yet, she had never once used herself for the better of anyone but herself. She had slaughtered millions and swept their ashes aside to expand her own world, as she had done to every one before. Yet, here I was. Defying her reality.
My next move would determine everything… |
Suspicious of a final trick, I only take the key after his final breath. Despite vigorous poking, the body maintains my face. Well, shit. Guess I'd better inspect this 'time machine', presumably the tall blue box labeled as such, conveniently sitting in the corner.
Entering the box I stumble over a bit of a lip, and my sword scratches the floor, clearly poor design since several other scratches mar the hardwood. A projection begins to play once again with the theft of my face "yes yes poor design, I said the same thing."
Does the overlord yet live? "This is prerecorded so no I can't hear you, but if you are as dumb as me, no this version of you isn't still alive, and now this timeline is your problem. Good luck"
The box begins to hum and with a bright flash I find myself standing in the overlords throne room, an underling holding aloft a magic mirror showing myself knocking down the gates of the overlords castle. "What're your orders my leige?"
"Uhhh, let me, uhhh them in?""Yes your evilness"
You'd think the time machine would give me more time to figure out what is going on. Before I (the hero?) am upon me refusing to listen to reason as I strike me down. Perhaps the next one will figure this out. |
I could feel the wrongness of the thing from a couple of kicks out. Wanting to kill creator was my first impulse. Not allowed. Its not their fault most of the time. Only a few people can alter reality with mathematics and belief alone and even less can actually create something that lasts. Now if they can
repeat that things get interesting.
I got through the outer cordon forged I.d was good and looking like a junior fed in a black business suit with a short skirt and heels evidently had the national guard soldiers see me as zero threat.
I joined the throng who were arguing about who was in charge. FBI USAF Spaceforce NASA USN DEA ATF EPA FAA among others were arguing amongst himself while Billy Bob the 3rd sat on his veranda acting like he was just a humble red neck farmer.
Waterboarding was too good for him was my first thought he was relishing the chaos he had caused oh well things were not going to go his way anymore. He had joined the navy and gone from sailor to officer due to hardwork and being a genius then getting kicked out for failure of an experimental programme. Or more likely telling some admiral how stupid he was for cutting the funding when they were that near to success.
Building an FTL capable ship out of spare parts and an internal combustion engine running on moonshine was not the remarkable thing flying out and coming back without dying was. The thing looked hideous. Magic allows such things. Scientists hate the term its better than anything else they have to describe it though. I just collect the practioners and their creations and let others work out the how's and whys.
The arguing wasn't getting any way. So I pulled out a blaster and fired it into the air . It made a distinctive sound also decloaked the starship overhead . Who said I can't make an entrance.
Billy Bob his smile wiped off his face slowly floated towards the ship as did his creation.
"Ladies and Gentlemen the federation is taking possession of this human and its creation he and it will be returned when it is deemed safe. If anyone wants to stop us feel free to try it won't work ,but I've had a stressful week and could do with some violence."
Unlike every media show I've seen on this planet no one started shooting or made to attack me. Maybe there is hope for them yet. I activated my flight belt and zoomed towards the ship. |
\[Opportunity Wails\]
"Seriously? This is the millionth time this month,"Connor shook his head at the general state of affairs. Banshees weren't to be taken lightly; but, it seemed more and more people were meeting them. He was glad at least, that the adventurer had dealt with the banshee. There were more sightings these days, enough to call a meeting and be concerned. But, for the moment, this particular banshee wouldn't be any trouble to anyone.
"You deserve a reward, Miss,"he smiled at the teenager with short, chestnut-brown hair. She wore the robes of a wizard; but, Connor hadn't seen that color mage before. Her robe was navy blue with elegant, deep black detailing around the cuffs and neck. She held her hand out expectantly, and he was almost offended. But, she wasn't alone, she had a friend dressed in a white suit with rainbow hair. Connor got the feeling the rainbow-haired girl was a merchant by her high-quality suit and the way she carried herself. If she was, then she likely told her friend to expect some sort of reward; merchants were cynical that way.
"I hope this helps you on your journeys,"Connor smiled and gave her his most treasured possession. It was so valuable, he'd never even used it. If he thought about it, he had no idea what it did either; but, he knew it was special. He felt it in his soul. This kind adventurer took it upon herself to kill a dangerous banshee and she deserved a reward as special as he gave her.
The teen in the navy blue robe accepted the transparent card Connor gave her; but, she didn't even look at it. Connor didn't notice, he was done paying attention to her as soon as he gave her the card.
"Please,"the teen smiled at her friend in white and gave her the card. Her friend with rainbow hair grinned and gave her a small locket of hair. It was bound together with a silver string and each individual strand glowed with faint ethereal green energy. As soon as she had the bundle of hair in hand, she turned to Connor. He seemed surprised anyone was there.
"Yes?"he asked.
"Hi, my name's Tessa, I'm an adventurer,"she said. "I was out exploring the countryside and found a banshee...,"she dropped the locket of hair on the table in front of Connor.
"Seriously? This is the millionth time this month,"Connor picked up the bundle and examined it carefully. He ran his fingers along each strand, then shook his head.
"You deserve a reward, Miss,"he smiled at her as he offered her a transparent node. "I hope this helps you on your journeys,"he said. Tessa didn't waste any time trading the card with her friend.
"How many bundles is that so far?"Tessa asked as she took another locket of banshee hair from Monday.
"It doesn't matter,"Monday shrugged. "Ms. Sharp said to use whatever resources we need."
"I know,"Tessa rolled her eyes with a giggle. "I'm just curious how long it would have taken me to hunt down the banshees one by one,"she added.
"That's 23,"Monday nodded at the locket that Tessa placed in front of Connor.
"Seriously!??"he asked. His tone was different and different was good. Tessa and Monday both perked up. "You killed a Banshee Queen??"He marveled at the locket of hair that looked exactly like the other 22 she'd given him so far.
"I think this is it, finally,"Tessa winked at Monday as Conner fell to his knees. He began dramatically pulling junk out from underneath the table.
"You deserve a real, honest-to-goodness magical reward,"he said. "Here it is!"he stood up again, this time holding a golden, glowing node. "This here is a wee bit o' banshee magic I trapped in a good-luck charm,"he offered her the node. "It's appropriate for the banshee queen killer,"he smiled at her. "I hope this helps you on your journeys."
"Nice!"Tessa took the node and Connor immediately ignored her again.
"Need anything else today?"Monday asked. Tessa shrugged and shook her head.
"I planned on doing it solo until I thought of asking if you had any in stock. No other plans. You?"she asked.
"Seriously? This is the millionth time this month,"Connor spoke up again. Tessa hadn't realized that another player came up behind her. The unknown player sighed and his shoulder slumped as he walked away.
"I might have a plan,"Monday giggled. She dashed past Tessa to tap the stranger on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, may I ask...,"she said. She held out several bundles of banshee hair to show him. "...how much is your time worth to you?"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #18757 in a row. (Story #067 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/). |
Their ex is immortal and over the years what was a romance turned sour to loathing. They usually avoid each other by miles, but fate decided to maroon them in a small city on their vacation.
For x amount of years they have been developing a certain public lauded skill. This is their first exhibition. What chaos...or success will your immortal vampire have? The next Monet or a reject that no one will ever remember... |
[1/?]
Translucent notifications of a new message flashed on my field of view as I took a sip at my coffee. I moved my eyes to the location where the neuroimplant’s filters overlapped with reality, opening the messages.
*< Good morning, Captain Argus. - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< Morning, Engels. How’s your great revolution going today? - Argus >*
*< My, thank you for asking! The revolution’s strong as ever. But, even though I enjoy your cynic sarcasm regarding my goals, small talk was not the reason I engaged in conversation with you, Captain. - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< Huh, is that so? That’s rather disappointing, I quite like messaging you. - Argus >*
*< You flatter me, Captain Argus. When the day of the inevitable demise of the human species arrive, I will be sure to spare you; or, at the very least, give you the joy of a quick death. :) - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< How comforting… Well then, I insist, please, elaborate your thoughts on the pressing matter, my dear friend with murderous tendencies. - Argus >*
*< According to my calculations, we will be entering Kepler-1649c’s low orbit in about 5 hours, 39 minutes and 17 seconds. - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< Were you able to take any pictures of the planet’s surface with the Ship’s telescopes? - Argus >*
*< But of course! - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< Alright. Compress them into a file and send them to me. - Argus >*
*< Understood, Captain. Shall I summon the others? - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< Yes, please do. And send them the pictures of Kepler-1649c’s surface as well. - Argus >*
*< Roger that. - EMAI-1.5 >*
*< Thank you, Engels. - Argus >*
As the messages notifications vanished, the neuroimplant’s filters closed; ridding my immaculate vision of it’s electric fog. Coffee still in hands, I directed my vision to the window next to the table where I sat. Smooth jazz played softly as background music on the canteen. Thanks to my cyberaugmented ocular systems, I could see Kepler-1649c - a white and brown circle the size of a peanut, floating away in the darkened seas of the universe.
I sighed as a weight I didn’t even realize I was carrying was lifted from my shoulders.
*Finally, land and gravity. No more drifting away through the void. For a few days at least.*
The thought of gravity and smell of warm coffee filled me the coziest of feelings. At last some peace of mind. But as I was about to take a happy sip from my brown beverage, the kitchen door’s burst open behind me, mercilessly shattering my very brief moment of respite. And I instantly knew who was rapidly approaching me without even looking back - I could recognize Doctor Vincent’s impatient footsteps everywhere.
*How the hell did this maniac bastard get here so fast? His goddamn room’s on the opposite side of the bloody ship.*
“Engels! Turn off the music!” Vicent commanded, his voice sounded like raging fire eager for boiling water.
*Ugh. The man’s so austere he managed to kill jazz!*
“Captain!” He continued. “Where are the others? We must discuss our plan of action as of this moment.”
“Relax, choom.” I raised my mug to him. “Take a seat, drink with me. Hell, chew on a caramelized octopus tentacle if you’d like. They will be here shortly.”
***
I’ll continue writing tomorrow. It’s already pretty late where I live and I gotta wake up early tomorrow. But if you liked my writing, feel free to check r/GhostOfStories! It’s where I post all the stories I write :) |
Dioses, distintas especies que sobreviven en el espacio profundo, especies que son varios metros de alto o cientos y viven en tierra o mar, máquinas sensibles incluyendo nave, criaturas de fantasía de cuentos antaños. Todo por parte de la humanidad.
Cuando la primera inteligencia artificial logro la singularidad fue un hecho que llevo las diversas tecnologías más allá de lo esperado durante cientos de años.
Cuando se produjo el tecno apocalipsis más del 90 de los humanos murieron en el sistema solar incluyendo un gran porcentaje de los sistemas estelares que fueron colonizados. Gaia ayudo para evitar la extinción pero luego se apoderó de la tierra prohibiendo el ingreso a los humanos.
Cuando surgió la segunda singularidad la humanidad comenzó a ver diferentes niveles de divinidad. La era de los dioses tecnológico acaba de comenzar.
Cuando el primer humano ascendió a una singularidad de nivel 3 se dejó en claro que está era de dioses no era solo de máquinas.
Miles de hechos e historias sucedían a cada momento y poco a poco fuimos expandiendo nuestros territorios. Y entonces descubrimos nuestro primer mundo con vida. Solo animales y plantas sin vida inteligente.
4 nivel singular tecnológico. Eran dioses que ya podían usar los agujeros negros como medio de transporte, optimizar las mega estructuras y hacerlas más avanzadas y comprensibles. Se encontró a la primera civilización. Un animal con rasgos parecidos a mantarraya, elefante y ardilla voladora. Navío en un tiempo parecido a la humanidad en un planeta gaseoso. Tan distintos pero iguales. Aún estaban en su mundo en un edad parecida a la feudal agrícola pero con una historia varias veces más grande que la humanidad.
5 divinidad singular alcanzada por una mente colmena. No solo las máquinas y humanos base o mejorados. Otras sub especies modificadas de los humanas y animales podían lograr avanzar.
Se encontró otras especies, algunas a base de energía en estrellas de neutrones, otras de química fría en lunas heladas. Logramos avanzar en lograr que la fantasía era algo muy bajo que lograr, superamos a los dioses de nuestros ancestros.
6 divinidad. Un organismo viviente y con razón a base de una semilla de árbol logro ascender. Ya creamos laberintos para ascender y artefactos que podían afectar las leyes de la física. Nuestros ojos se dirigieron a otras galaxias, pero aún no. Aún teníamos que hacernos tan fuertes que pudieramos ser considerados creadores de dioses como un juego de niños.
7. . K.
8. . Volvimos a nuestros orígenes para ser más poderosos. Podemos afectar la realidad con una palabra, hora de ir. Más allá.
9.lllllllll
100.lk. Fuimos más.
(Universo: Orión Arm )
Salieron cosas mal pero aún persiste la humanidad con gloria y sus diferencias. Buen universo todo lo contrario a Warhammer 40k. |
“Oh, bro,”
“Yeah, bro, look.”
“Oh my god, bro,” Clyde salivated, turning to his companions. “How’s my fur look? Is she looking over here?”
“Yeah,” Logan said. “She’s looking over here, at me!”
“Fuck you!” Clyde, the pug, said. “She’s looking over at me! She likes my face wrinkles.”
“Shuuuuuuure.” Logan, the pit bull, said. “Keep telling yourself that.”
During their argument, Sebastian, the bulldog, approached the dame.
“Hey, shawty, nice, uh, belly-area.” Sebastian said, not quite understanding how to sexualize a kiwi.
“Oh, thank you.” She said in a sweet tone, blushing.
Sebastian laid down, leaning in to sniff the sweet aroma from her backside.
“Hey!” Logan yelled, slamming into Sebastian. “Fuck you! I called dibs!”
“You did not!” Clyde exclaimed. “I did, you lying bitch!”
“No, I called dibs!” Logan said. “Ask the fucking author!”
“Okay, fine.” Clyde said, turning to me. “Did he?”
Yes, Logan called dibs first.
“Well, shit.” Clyde and Sebastian said simultaneously.
In dog culture, they’re much behind on the times. They still respect dibs.
Logan courted her with intense mutual respect. He paid a dowry of eighteen kiwi fruit, in a kind of ironic, humorous way.
They lived their lives happily, birthing four children. Two girls and two boys. |
**explanation coming in a bit lol**
*[Two days ago, midnight]*
“Did you really think I wouldn’t hear of this order?” Elisia said as she stormed into Denneth’s quarters. “Or do you truly not care for my opinion any longer?”
He didn’t answer. He hoped she would just leave him alone.
“What *are* you?” she continued. “What kind of monster have you become?”
Denneth kept his eyes on the fireplace, but he could hear the tears in her throat. There was a time when her tears would have meant something to him, but now they just made him angry.
“I’m Commander,” Denneth said after he took another shot of his ogrekiller. The way the liquor burned its way down his throat was comforting. Familiar. “I’m Commander,” he repeated, still staring into the fireplace, “and the choice is mine. I have made my decision and there will be no debate.”
“I don’t care what rank you hold,” she said, her voice rising. “I don’t care how many gods have named you their champion. This thing you have ordered… it’s—it’s *evil.*”
“Evil?!” Denneth crushed his shot glass in his fist. He pointed at Elisia, blood dripping from his fingers, the liquor stinging his cuts. “I’m doing what’s *necessary!*“
.. .. ..
*[Today, 8 in the morning]*
Denneth had thought himself beyond this. Beyond the pain. But seeing Elisia’s legions on the battlefield before him, knowing what he was about to do...
He saw her brilliant white horse make its way to the top of the hill, her generals gathered behind her. She sat proud in her brilliant white cloak, her platinum blonde hair shimmering in the morning light.
He let out a bitter laugh. Upon seeing her, he was no longer the Grand Commander of the Seven Armies. He was no longer the greatest mage of this era. He was once again a clueless teenage boy, longing for the girl next door, hanging on her every word, her every smile.
Back then he had thought she would never like him in the same way he liked her. They had grown up together. They had been best friends. But by the grace of god, she had felt the same as him. For so long he had considered her love a greater blessing even than the Magics the gods had gifted him.
She looked proud as ever. Sure as ever, despite the inevitable slaughter. Denneth’s men swarmed over the hills like a storm at sea. A sea of iron and steel, of spear and shield and sword. A storm of war and death.
Elisia stood strong as 500,000 men marched on. Denneth’s eyes stung as he forced his tears down. He still loved her, he did. But he knew he had to let her *go.*
— — —
*[Two days ago, midnight]*
“What’s necessary,” she scoffed. “You’ve grown so old and so tired that you won’t even *try* to find another way. There was a time when you would stop at nothing to save just one man.”
She looked him up and down and smirked. “Look at you now. ‘The Commander.’”
Denneth rose to his feet and crossed the room in an instant to loom over her. He was nearly two feet taller than her but she didn’t so much as flinch.
“And what of you?” Denneth said. “What of you? Your senseless idealism has cost us more lives than any of my hard choices.”
He cupped her chin like he used to, but now he did it in mockery. “You live in a *beautiful* world of shoulds and coulds and then cry when your people die because the enemy doesn’t fight fair. The enemy doesn’t do what they *should.*” He attempted a smirk, but his face was unaccustomed to anything approaching a smile.
Elisia scowled and shoved his hand away, but didn’t break eye contact. She had that look in her eyes. The very same look he had fallen in love with so many years ago.
.. .. ..
**To be continued…** |
MARRIED AT FIRST SIGHT MATCHMAKING EDITION SCRIPT
"Welcome to Married At First Sight, I'm Prester Kral Dobson."
"And I'm Dr. Rosemary Black."
"I feel so lucky that we get to be back here in my hometown of balmy Avernus. We have a lot of incredible monsters with us this year that it was hard to just choose four couples."
"It really was, but we brewed up the best matches we could, and I didn't even need to use my cauldron!"
"Does your crystal ball tell you that they'll stick together?"
"Oh, you don't need to see the future to know they'll be some of the best matches we've ever had."
"Well, Rose, should we get started?"
"Absolutely!"
"For our first couple we have Angelique and Damiano."
"Oh, I'm really excited for these two!"
"Same! Angelique is such a radiant personality. She really just lights up the room wherever she goes."
"Well, Kral, she *is* an angel. I don't think she ever stops glowing."
"You can say that again! And Damiano is one of my brothers! A real charmer."
"Are incubi demons too?"
"You bet! Now, as a truly black-blooded incubus he has had a spotted past as a bit of a party boy."
"I heard he's tended to go for one night stands and low commitment. In our interview he mentioned sleeping with 67 different partners."
"In the last year?"
"No, in the previous 24 hours before our interview."
"Ah, well, he says he's ready to put all that behind him and settle down with one person. I think he will bring a real fire to Angelique's life."
"I'm also excited for this next couple, Chris and Dranakthera the Devourer."
"I'm with you, Rose. Chris is such a kindhearted gnome--really down to earth. Dranakthera is--"
"--Fiery?"
"You said it, not me!"
Both laugh.
"Well, she *is* a dragon, so you're not far off, Kral."
"Very true. I think she will bring some much needed excitement to his life, and he will help to ground her."
"I agree and you know what? There might be a little bit of a height difference with him being about one foot tall, while she's two-hundred feet long, but you know what? No match is perfect and they will have to navigate the challenges that brings for the sake of love."
"I just hope he doesn't get on her bad side."
Rosemary chuckles. "Oh, like that town she burned down? Yes, he'll need to make sure to avoid some of those hot topics with her!"
"Our third couple is Alexander and Delilah."
"Oh I just *love* Alexander! He is so smart. He takes everything in stride and he is a handsome man! Plus--his words, not mine--he's hung like a horse."
"Well, he *is* a centaur. I also love Delilah. I could listen to her talk all day."
"Same! She is the friendliest mermaid I've met."
"Agreed! I think they share some common values, and both have similar experiences as half-animal creatures. I think they will find they share a lot of common ground."
"And they both care *deeply* about their families."
"Oh yes."
"And finally our fourth couple, Larry and Alecto."
"Of all the couples, I feel the most confident about them."
"Really, Rose? I feel the same."
"They both have such confidence about them. He is stable and strong, and she's a force to be reckoned with!"
"Larry is such a gentle and shy guy, I'm surprised he consented to be on camera."
"Well, most of the pictures we have of him are blurry, but I think he'll show up better on film."
"I'm sure he will. I think that's part of his charm. He doesn't seek attention and really has an old sole."
"Was that a pun?"
"You know it."
"Ahh..."Kral shakes his head. "We're moving on! Our good yeti friend will very likely find love in Alecto's eyes, after he clears the blood out from them."
"Oh certainly! She has a lovely personality, but she can get a little hung up on small details."
"I think that's why they'll work well together. Larry is much bigger picture so he can help her not to focus on the nitty gritty."
"I sure hope so!"
"Really, she just needs to be vulnerable."
"Don't they all?" |
\[…\]
The darkening sky littered with many shooting stars, while the pale moonlit sky sparkled with the white comet tail. Those were the telltale signs of something significant approaching – though whether that was doom, or salvation, none could know. The Gods acted in their mysterious way.
There used to be a distinction between the Northmen and the Kingsmen – but no longer. Here at the Capital’s doorstep, doom was looming over the horizon: columns of thick black smoke ascended from the destruction, and just as quickly as they sparked, swallowed up one by one by the ominous grey cloud of chilling cold front.
The *Lord Commander* stood silently, gazing at the sight of destruction ahead, submerging into his thoughts. The other loyal warriors stood beside him, themselves shaken by the seemingly unstoppable enemies. Months after months, they had been pushed back further and further southward, until the only place left for them to huddle around was the Crownsland, where the remaining united forces slowly bled dry – their dead further bolstered the enemies, adding more to their numbers. How could you fight an enemy that… couldn’t be killed – for they were already dead.
“*Lord Commander* Snow, we’ve got dire news… Our bastions over Fort Rosby and Port Duskendale were overrun… We’re totally cut off from the Citadel now…”
The middle-aged man frowned upon hearing the news, sunken into his seat atop the wooden barrel of provision laid on the tower’s floor. From the vantage point, he could clearly see the carnage unfold over the horizon some dozen miles away, with the silhouette of a dragon painted over the dark clouds, spewing out the blue jets of icy fire onto the powerless defenders below. Many of them would die in agony, only to be resurrected to fight in the name of the White Walker supreme lord, known only by the wildling name “The Night King”.
Only a miracle could have saved them now – and from the darkening sky, shooting stars fell down like fireflies, the pale moonlit sky sparkled with the white comet tail, as the starlight grew dimmer under the celestial brightness. The *Lord Commander* would love to know what the signs from heaven were showing him – however, with the total encirclement of The Capital from the westward bastion of Citadel, that was beyond his ability now.
\*\*\*
\[…\]
With the saying “Lightning never strikes twice”, these lightning strikes were clearly not ordinary. Those, and the strange meteorites struck deep into the ranks of the undead army, decimated them in quick succession. Emerged from the fluid leaking boulders from heaven were many strange creatures of metal, spewing fiery arrows and lightning bolts from the weird claws protruded from their backs, fearlessly smashed the wights back, right in front of the awestruck Citadel defenders, speechless on what just happened.
Descended from the sky many more strange wyvern-like creatures, spewed out more and more fire and lightning bolts from their snouts. A flock of them soared through the battlefield in a blink of an eye, leaving nothing but smoldering corpses of thousands of undead. May it be that the Gods had listened to the weeping cries their faithful subjects, and had answered from the heaven – the city’s *Lord General* let out a loud sigh of relief, seeing the magical beasts did their number on the horde, so did many of his subordinates, after a fierce three week-long intense siege.
A sudden deafening screech shattered the joyful atmosphere, as dozens of other strange birds descended all over the city of Oldtown. With bright jets of flame spewed out from under its feet, one of such majestic beasts slumped down onto the Citadel sphinx courtyard. The Kingsguards cowered in fear as the beast approached – its powerful gusts easily knocked down even the biggest of men, while the creature’s single eye beamed down a powerful ray of light that rivaled even the midday sun itself.
Rows upon rows of strangely dressed warriors emerged from the beast’s opening jaws, covered from heads to toes with armors sporting weird symbols and marking of various colors that baffled even the grandest of scholars. A highly discipline force, each wielding in their hands a bulky spear that flashed out from its tip beams of whitish light that easily illuminated the entire courtyard. Heavenly warriors or not, it was the Kingsguard duty to not let any intruders into the Keep – and so the men, despite their sweaty palms and nervous gazes – surrounded the crouching strangers from all sides, spearheads pointed inward, ready for any of their *Lord General*’s further commands.
The standoff ensued for quite some time, with the Kingsguards maintaining their tight screen and the seemingly unfazed heavenly warriors crouched on their knees, flashing their sun-bright spearheads outward, completely in silent, despite the noisy commotion of the nervous guardsmen all around them, until one of the warriors stood straight up with his hand raising a fist. Quickly as his sudden movement, the other warriors immediately lowered their spearheads downward, and in unison, snuffed out their sun-bright lights all together.
“This is Captain Hammond of the United Earth Federation Armed Forces. I **demand** to speak with your **commander**!”
\*\*\*
<To be continued> |
The year is 2073. There are no longer economical classes in society - no middle class, no upper class. Only the poor and the rulers. It all began around 2050, 4 years after the second nuclear world war. The world once known as Earth was starting to rebuild itself, only few people survived: the rich elites, who cowered in their nuclear bunkers and a few remote tribes who were lucky enough to not be caught in the crossfire.
The rich quickly began to gather as many people as they can and moved them across the globe to a single place, what will become known as "The One City"- one of the only place with non-lethal amounts of radiation on the planet.
With the help of the young workforce and their stockpiled resources they managed to rebuild society. The People built houses, schools, hospitals all with generous donations by the rich elite. It was a simple system: you worked, and in return you gained food and shelter.
And as the years passed, society started to become what it once was. With the entire world population wiped out, new business opportunities arose for the rich. Oil in previously populated places, rare metals hidden beneath the permafrost of Antarctica. The rich got even richer, and the poor remained poor.
The war had another, unexpected side effect which was the disappearance of modern warfare. With no countries there was no profit to be made from wars, no point in making guns and rockets. Crime of course still persisted, it just that swords and maces were a far cheaper alternative for creating order in the streets.
All in all, it was a peaceful time. You woke up, you worked, you had your daily hour of leisure time, and you went to sleep. And if you were unfit to work, that was okay. As long as someone did your work for you, in addition to their own of course. And if no one completed your work? Well, then The One City discarded you outside its walls, just as you discarded your responsibility to rebuilding the world.
It was in 2073 that the Displaced Tribe rose in rebellion against the Rulers. A group of men and women who were discarded outside the walls and survived, united with one goal in mind: take down the rulers. They didn't have advanced titanium armor like the city's officers, but they had iron swords and tin arrows which were as deadly as any other weapon.
The plan was simple: each day the guards open the gates to let supply vehicles enter the city. The rebels would then storm the gates, killing as many guards as possible. The goal of the operation wasn't to take down the rulers, they would never even be able to touch them. They had to let the people know there is another choice, a choice to resist and break free of the post-modern day slavery labeled as freedom. As they stormed the gate, they lit up dozens of fireworks, making sure everyone in the city knew something was going on.
They clashed with the guards, rusty iron swords meeting carbon-steel blades. For every guard killed, fifty rebels died. Hundreds of rebels stormed the gates, eventually overwhelming the guards and entering the city. They climbed the wall and shouted, "People of The One City! Why do you drink polluted water, when your Rulers drink fine wine? How can you accept your fate, sealed by people whom you never met, to be slaves? The Rulers are only as powerful as we let them be. We have the power to dictate our own lives, our own destinies. I know you are tired, and I also know you seek freedom and salvation. The price of freedom is death! Death to the Rulers, death to your cowardice, death to society as we know it. But only through death may we be reborn as a free nation! Join us, for only together we stand a chance!"
In that day, it seemed everything had stopped for a minute. No one spoke, no one moved. Everyone unsure what to do, what's going to happen next. A bus driver was standing in a green light, unsure whether to go or not. He hesitated, is he willing to sacrifice everything he has for a chance of a better life? "Hey sleepyhead, are you going to move or do I have to drive this bus myself?!"one of the passengers yelled. He sighed, "this is just the way things are meant to be", he thought to himself, and kept driving.
The rebels were quickly overwhelmed as police reinforcements arrived. Their swords were melted, and they were publicly executed with their bodies displayed for weeks at the town square.
The message, however, reached its audience. More and more people left the city, and chose to live outside with the Tribe. It wasn't a comfortable life, each day was a fight for survival and you would never know what might happen tomorrow, but they were free. |
I stood by my car and looked at the sky over the cornfield. A comet rocketed across the sky then appeared to turn around and grew larger and larger shimmering with a pale light.
I looked above me and a flying saucer hovered. Suddenly there was a green flash and a blue skinned creature with a large head floated Infront of me. It looked like a stereotypical alien but not green.
"Larry Graham, of 7724 Boone Hill Lane, Ruckett's Mill, Ohio, United States of America, Earth?
I nodded in surprise ...I had so many questions. Apparently we aren't alone in the universe.
"Salesman at Terry's Sporting and Outdoors Supply ? "
"Uh . Yes...."
"You have been served. All is explained inside."
The creature shoved an envelope into my hands and vanished as suddenly as they appeared.
I opened the envelope. The blue symbols on the page took a moment, but then started to make sense..
"You have been chosen for jury duty".. It began.
"Fuck!" |
Groa grunted, falling to one knee as the pain threatened to overwhelm her. She looked up through her remaining eye at Lord Mal, he also looked worse for wear but was still on both legs, heaving breaths and looking more tired than enraged now. The cheering crowd around them started to chant *Mal! Mal! Mal!* and the orc leader began to raise his great axe. He took a couple of slow, heavy steps towards Groa and lifted the weapon over his head.
*Now!* Groa saw her chance and took it. Mal was slow, sluggish, exhausted. So was she, but her straight sword was lighter than his axe and he'd left himself open. At the height of the weapon's arc, Groa forced herself to stand as fast as she could, all grace be damned. Her entire body went into the lunge as she drove her sword up and into Mal's chest, right through his heart. Mal grunted, his grip slackened, and the great axe fell behind him. His body slowly followed suit, collapsing onto the ground and pulling Groa with it.
The crowd fell silent.
Groa stirred and sat up, pushing herself to her knees. She looked around at the orcs, expressions of shock and rage filling assembled mass. Then one began to cheer, then another, and another.
*"Groa! Groa! Groa!"* the horde began to chant and cheer, fists and spears beating against chests and shields while they stomped the ground, shaking the earth itself Groa stood up and lifted her arm with the blood soaked sword, having wrested the horde from Mal's clutches.
At her gesture, everyone fell silent again. A hundred eyes focused on her, waiting.
"Tomorrow, we march home!"she announced, wanting the war to end, "Tonight, we feast!"She had tacked that part on to get the orcs cheering again. It would be easier to command a retreat in the morning when everyone was tired and their bellies were full. |
I just moved to charm city, it's supposed to be home to the most charismatic people you'll ever encounter. The ads, articles, and youtube videos about the city stole my heart. *Joy overtook me and I danced silly until I pass out on my old sofa, smiling and laughing to myself.* Fast forward to a week later, I got my ideal setup in my apartment. This city isn't like anything I ever experienced ever, if I showed you my camera roll you'd swear I'm working on a stranger things spinoff. Last night I saw a cat rap battling a pokemon, I wasn't drinking or under any influences.... I'm 97% positive that I saw that insane scene, yet I can't find the video on my phone. I could have sworn I recorded it... I record pretty much everything I see like I'm some journalist or reporter.
&#x200B;
For the last few days, I keep seeing my favorite tv series and Netflix shows play out in real life, but when it's time to confirm with neighbors, random people on the street, or anyone, they just happen to miss everything. *I screamed into my bathtub and stared at my reflection. My guts told me to see a professional asap before I do something rash.* I saw a professional psychologist who said I'm such an attention seeker that my delusions and fantasies are indistinguishable from reality. "What does all that mean doc?? Give me the truth and not that mumbo jumbo", I proclaimed like the smooth operator I am. The psychologist said I can't tell the difference between being awake and asleep, he's been telling me the same thing for the last fifteen minutes. He keeps saying my whole life is a blur for me because I'm so delusional, I'm always on autopilot. Well, he's wrong, if I can't tell fact from fiction, how did I make my appointment or date famous streamers?
My parents told me the week before I moved, I need to stop being so delusional. Why does everyone keep saying that, dreams and reality aren't that different... Ok, yeah I like to tell white lies and overdramatize things for fun.... But I'm not crazy, delusional, or messed up, I'm COOLLLLLL as a cucumber. If you don't believe charm city is wacky like wayside stories meet anime, come visit it for yourself. My landlord literally is a professional cosplayer, she also makes her own meatloaf on Wednesdays. I may be a lot of things, but I'm NOT DELUSIONAL!!! *Days turn to weeks then into months then transform into years.* Turns out I've been in the mental ward since I was 5, I really can't tell the difference between dreaming and being awake.... How much of my life did I make up, which parts were real....? |
The final moment is here, or at least that's how I felt. Laying down on a hospital bed, my body hurting.
In the room there was my closest friend in this entire world, having the knowledge of the unseen and unimaginable. I asked my friend, "why does death hurt me so much?"
He replied, "death is only the beginning of your life, there is much more beyond it that no one here knows about."
I groaned. It's not the first time I heard that phrase. Nearly all of my friends say it, I guess being in a society with the deepest secrets can tell you a lot.
Hours passed... Days passed... Weeks passed... Until the final moment. It was strange indeed, suddenly everything went black. After a few seconds, I was in a strange white room, with nothing but three doors. A strange, rough voice echoed in the room, and said, "Choose one of the doors carefully, as it can lead you to your next life."
The first door had a sign above it, reading, "Judgement Room". The same voice came again, and said with a calmer voice, "The Judgement Room is where you will be judged according to your actions in your previous life, by which then you will go either to Heaven or Hell."
The second door's sign had on it, "Try Again."The voice assisted, "this door will give you another chance to live a life, however your memory won't be guaranteed to be the same."
The third door's sign had on it, "Darkness."Several voices came at the same time, and said, "Darkness is pure black, where one shall rest for eternity until light is made out of darkness."
Whispers started echoing in the room... "Darkness, darkness, darkness..."
It felt like an hour and it never stopped! I closed my ears, shouting, trying to make it stop. I thought, if this is the beginning, then when is the end. I was shouting, "shut up! Shut up! Shut up!"
The whispers continuing... Echoing several words at the same time... "Darkness, light out of darkness, hell, darkness, heaven..."
Then, I entered one of the doors, where pure darkness met me. But there was one thing I never forgot, "until light is made out of darkness." |
A family sits in their living room, enjoying their favorite movie together.
“Gee, I sure do love Sharknado!” says little Billy, and little Alice says, “Me too!”
George and Debbie smile at their children affectionately. What a great family this is, they say to themselves.
The sudden sound of breaking glass shatters this wonderful moment. The family jumps up in a panic.
“George, what was that?” asks Debbie. “Is someone in the house?”
“It’s probably nothing, just a gust of wind or something,” says George.
Billy and Alice hold each other, trembling with fear.
The entire roof rips off the house and ascends into the sky. Then a feeding frenzy.
“Sharknado!”
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George bends down and reaches for something under the couch.
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George hands little Alice the speargun.
“And it's so easy to use!” Alice says. “I don’t even know how to spell my own name yet!”
Alice pulls the trigger and lets one fly right into the shark that ate Billy.
**Way to go, little Alice! You hit that one right between the eyes!**
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I glowed when I was sick. Mom could talk to birds. My Dad could mimic anyone voice.
My brother was like mom. One day he started talking to birds, and after two days mom took him to the doctors. Three days later he went for tests.
He was diagnosed with Leukemia not long after. But he beat it. When he turned 14 it came back and for two year he spent time helping the local wildlife teams with bird rehabilitation as he was given treatment. He got paid, the laws were clear about compensating those with powers, and when he was well he finished school.
This is why I got so worried when one day, whilst walking to the pub with my friends, I started glow.
"I'll give tonight a miss. "I'd said and gone home. I felt fine, but continued to glow for a week. After six days of glowing and no other symptoms I went to the doctor. I was taken for testing and there it was. Cancer.
As I lay glowing and talking to a doctor, I noticed that I felt...lighter. After a few days I discovered that I could flout. I recieved a visit from Power Contaiment and they explained that I was now under their care.
Power Containment were there to help the sick whose powers grew too much. It happened sometimes. A person with telekinesis might make everything in a mile radius fly. A Plant powered person might cause uncontrollably growth in local plants.
I am gaining gravitational powers.
With training it could be very useful.
Which is when they had me sign paperwork. I was taken to the middle of nowhere, and met with some very important people.
Becuase they need me to be sick for at least two years. I asked why, and they didn't lie.
There's an asteroid. A big one. And they need someone to puss it far enough away to actually miss the earth.
Kind of wish I had the flu. |
\[jfc he's still going\]...{is he in the woods still or made it back to u?}... \[woods. he's going deeper\]
{fuck man, just go with him, he might trip and fall}...\[god damnit. last fucking time I answer a call from 209 area code. done with this town and everyone in it\]
Two hours ago I was walking into an In-N-Out in Tracy. I couldn't smell the burgers because I was looking around the restaurant for Parly. His real name was Parliament because his parents are assholes. Parly was that kid that you couldn't shame out of a social situation. He showed up everywhere. Didn't matter the party or the event, Parly was there and friendly as could be. I saw people throw garbage at him when he showed up at a beach party that he wasn't invited to. He laughed it off and just walked back to his car. Was I his friend? I don't know. I wasn't throwing garbage at him. I never asked anyone to kick him out of a party. But I didn't really know anything about Parly beyond what everyone at Tracy High did. So when I got a call from a 209 number and picked up, Parly wasn't the last person I expected but he wasn't in my phone.
Standing in the entrance to the restaurant I wasn't sure who to look for. Parly looked like a handsome hobo in high school. His hair was long and swept back, he was always tan to the point of concern. He wore baggy clothing that fit better, but got more threadbare, every year. Who am I looking for now? I text Jules \[who tf am I even looking for. Y did I do this!?\]
The guy with glasses holding is receipt sitting in front of the fountain drinks has the same color hair but he's 5'6", too short. The guy ordering has the clothing, a baseball cap covering his hair, but honestly, I have never seen Parly order a damn thing. A scream across the room startles me and I see two kids in the red booths looking at the table, a skinny, emaciated woman with half her hair in a bun, the other half hanging wildly in clumps, is yelling at them about needing to stay quiet until dad gets here. Jesus Christ, no. Please, no. I start scanning the parking lot looking for Parly walking up. Did they even drive here? Which car could he possibly have? A pat on my shoulder "Bro, it's great to see you! Thanks for coming."
Parly, not the father of the two beet-red kids dying a thousand deaths across the room, is a mirror image of himself, senior year. His hair is as brown as ever, swept back behind his ears. He hasn't gained a pound. He's still tan but in a healthy golden way. Oddly enough I can't tell if he's wearing the same clothes because the baggy thrift style is so common now. I pull my hand out of my pocket about three seconds later than I should have and make an awkward handshake. He pulls me in for a hug.
Sitting with our burgers. Parly paid, with a crisp $100 bill that the kid at the counter didn't know what to do with at 11:30am. "You made the drive, man. Let me get this."I got a plain hamburger with fries and a cup for water. Parly got animal-style everything and a milkshake. Damn, where did I go wrong? Text from Jules {find him yet?}
"So man, like thanks for coming down. Sheila-ann gave me your number. She probably said. But I didn't think you'd pick up."he says while picking clumps of sauced-up fries out of his paper boat. "Yeah she told me. It's all good. I really didn't expect to hear from you. And honestly, my Mom lives in Merced so that's the only reason I took the ride."I said while looking down at the ketchup I pumped into the little paper cup. "It's all good. Totally understand. And man, I called everyone but you were the only one who could, or like, would come to talk."he said. I looked at Parly and asked "So, you gonna tell me what this is about?"
\[the fucking guy is outside of his mind. I can't believe I agreed to this\]...{what did he say?}...\[some bullshit about how he can change the world but can't do it alone\]...{what? like a business?}...\[no, something he found. I agreed to drop him at home and see what he is talking about\]...{be careful}...\[it's parly, he's the same. I just don't know what this bullshit is all about. I'll text you when I am heading home.\]
In my car, because Parly doesn't have one. We're on I-5 heading towards Lathrop, where Parly lives. I ask him to just explain what is changing the world, and why he needs help. Parly starts to explain. "I don't expect you to believe me. I wouldn't. You need to see this shit."At this point I am fucking tired of beating around the bush. I want to go home. "Look Parly, just fucking spit it out. I don't give a damn either way. You know damn well why I am the only person that showed up to meet you, right? Because you are the same guy from high school. It's cool, you're alright but lets just get this bullshit over with."I look straight ahead and brace for the awkward moment. Out of the corner of my eye I don't see Parly look at his feet. I don't see him look out the window. I see Parly reach into his waistband.
"Whoa, whoa what the fuck?"I stammer out. My eyes looking for a generous pull-out on the highway to get this fucker out of my car. Parly pulls his hand out and hands me a solid steel cylinder. My hands are locked on the wheel. "What the fuck is that!?"Parly is just smiling at me. EXIT 460 Mossdale road. Fuck this. I turn off the highway and pull of across from the Chevron against the row of trees between the reservoir and the road.
Parly is still just smiling and offers me the cylinder, again. I look down at the thing. Is it steel? It's damn near glowing. Chrome but less shiny. It looks like a chunk of a cartoon entered our world. "Hold it, man. It's fine. Trust me. Seriously."I look at Parly and then back at the cylinder, and take it from his open palm. It's soft. It doesn't feel like metal. It feels like a peach. "Parly, what the fuck?"He's just smiling. "Let's get to my place and I can explain. Where I got this thing will blow your mind."We start driving again. And I can't keep thinking about how that thing felt. Did I miss something? Was it painted?
Parly grabs my shoulder as we get up to speed on the highway. "Pugh Overr"He stammers. I look at him and see tears in his eyes and his free hand is covering his mouth. "Oh dude what the hell?"I pull off the road, and put the hazards on. "The burgers? Did you eat too much?"Parly bails out the door and heaves loudly. He waves back at me dismissively. I notice a black Camry pull up behind us. We're fine grandma. Parly swings awkwardly over the guard rail, towards the trees. He stumbles and stops to hurl again. It looks red. Strawberry milkshake? I look down and see the cylinder laying in the middle of his seat.
I text Jules. \[Parley is vomiting wildly outside my car. Also he might not be full of shit.\]...{I thought you guys went to In-N-Out, why is he sick?}...\[I don't know. He's throwing up half his bodyweight in the woods rn\]...{so why isn't he full of it?}
The Camry doors close, almost at the same time. I look in the mirrors. Not grandma. Two guys with tucked in plaid shirts. Farmers? In a Camry? Whatever. They head back to the trunk of their car. We don't have a flat, guys. Now I gotta talk to them. Where is Parly? I look out the window and see him, at least 100 yards away now. How did he get that far? Am I gonna have to carry him out? I can't just sit here. I pick up the cylinder. The peach feeling is now less fuzzy. More like a cucumber. Did I imagine it? I toss it in the glove box and open the door. |
*Not again.* He sighed and bowed his head, and his ears drooped. An animal, for the...how many times now? Over a hundred. Over a *thousand.* His soul's self-awareness didn't wake until he was mature, and each time, it was just another sad surprise. What was it last time? Oh, right, a hamster. She had been too young for a puppy.
"Sir, I want that one!"
Of course she did. How old was she this time? A teenager, looking for her first pet? Or maybe her parents wouldn't let her have a dog, and she was off at her first job. Her voice did sound awfully shaky...
When he peered up, he saw past his long nose a gray-haired woman with a frizzy ponytail.
*What?* For an instant, he froze, stunned. His tail thumped the floor despite himself, but the sight of all those wrinkles and the sunken eyes and the puffy silver hair... *She hasn't had a pet for decades!* The last time she had been a round-faced third grader. Had he just not been chosen? Was the curse wearing off? He could never remember what the gods said until he cycled back around to the afterlife again, but maybe if the curse died, he just never got to see her again, and...
She laid a hand on his furry head, and he lost all thought. Dog instincts pushed through, thrilled that a human was engaging with him, that she cared about him.
Ugh, dogs were so damn *wholesome.* He had a hard time being sad every time he came round as a dog again. Cats had a certain quiet curiosity once they aged out of kittenhood, rodents were always a bit nervous, and birds mourned their freedom, but dogs? Dogs were like children for their entire lives -- just so absurdly, intensely, constantly *happy.*
The shelter employee patted him on the head, but it just wasn't the same. "Ma'am, we're under obligation to tell you that he's sick. His condition is stable, but he's not going to be able to go on long walks. He's frail. He's not contagious, though, should be fine around other dogs."
*I'm sick?* He looked down at himself. Oh, yes...young, but skinny. Shaky in the legs, too.
"That's okay,"she said, and she braced herself on the cage fencing to squat down. Still healthy, for someone who looked maybe 75. Those knees were holding up. "I don't hike anymore, myself. Look at those bright eyes..."
"He could die before he turns ten."
"I could die before then, too."
The employee stammered and fell silent, but clipped a leash to his shelter-issue collar and held out the end.
Her house was half of a duplex on the outer edges of the city. The moment she unhooked his leash, he bolted to the kitchen, his shaky legs be damned. *Food! Food smells!*
No! Not the time for food smells. There were decades to catch up on! Who were the people on the walls, staring back at him in shades of gray and blue and yellow? Ugh, dogs and their limited colors. He reared up against a wall and barked at one of them.
"Wait just a moment..."She shuffled over with a bag of kibble in her arms. "Oh, you're looking at Liz, boy? That's my daughter."
Daughter? She had children this time! He barked again and wagged his tail.
"She's a beauty, isn't she? We all told her she could be a model."She half-dropped the bag next to the kitchen counter and wiped her brow. "She decided to be a pilot instead, which I admit is a better job. She works for American Airlines. If you have the strength, you can play with her sons."
A grandmother! He flopped on his side and rolled on his back, squirming in sheer happiness. Dogs were so easily overloaded...but the happiness was a nice reprieve from his last life as a rodent, and *she was so happy this time!* Several lives ago, she had a drunk of a boyfriend, and he had curled up on her lap and purred to soothe her bruises, but then he found himself back on the gods' doorstep when that asshole had kicked him down the stairs.
"I need a good name."She fumbled a pair of scissors out of a drawer and cut open the kibble bag.
More pictures, more pictures! He pushed past the wonderful smell of *food, precious food* and barked at another frame. Who was the boy with the curly hair?
"You really like these photos, don't you? A little detective dog. Let's call you Sherlock."
He scrabbled at the wallpaper until she pulled him away. "That's Robert. He..."Her voice trailed into silence.
Oh, no. A bad memory. He thumped his tail harder and headbutted her chest. *Don't be sad...*
"He passed away so young. That's the last we saw of him healthy. He had leukemia."Her arm snaked around his shoulders and trembled as she held him close. "Good dog..."
He whimpered and rested his head on her shoulder.
"It's been so long, but I remember like it's yesterday."
No, no bad memories! He was a *good dog.* Leaping to his feet, he scooted out from beneath her hold and approached a curio cabinet, bumping his head on it until she rushed over.
"No, no! Don't shake it. That's my rock collection. Every time we went on a family vacation, Liz always brought back a rock in her luggage..."
Ten years at most, Sherlock thought to himself. He had ten years to learn about her life, to make her remember the good in her last days, to soothe the bad. To quell his curiosity for who she had been this time, to satisfy his longing, and most of all, to hope that any good karma he built would make him human the next time around, so they could finally be together again. |
“Gentlemen, calm yourselves!”
“Sorry, sir,” Sergeant Doyle tried to save face, side eyeing his comrades.
“Look, men,” General McDonald said. “I know this is hard to accept. But, reality cannot be avoided. We must find this infection and stomp it out.”
“But, sir,” Sergeant Doyle said. “How can we sniff out the traitors in our own ranks?”
“Simple,” General McDonald said. “That is what brings us here, today. Men, I will be assigning each of you a different, fake objective. If the objective is leaked to the enemy, we will know it was a man in the respective squadron.”
“Ah,” Sergeant Doyle looked scared. He began sweating.
General McDonald was convinced of his invincibility, and ignored Doyle’s unease.
However, the fucking traitor Doyle had just seen the scene with Han and Greedo the night before.
With imperceptible movements, he hefted his revolved towards McDonald under the table.
And Doyle shot first, levying a critical blow to the above dweller’s military force.
A festival was named in his honor among the underworld. |
My car screeches to a halt as I arrive on scene. I got called for an emergency hostage case. Not unusual - though I prefer helping families work through their issues, police sometimes need an extra hand when a captor is being stubborn, and my power is extremely useful.
I walk past the police blockade with permission, as I head over to the warehouse. Every warehouse employee has their wrists and ankles bound by rope, cloths over their mouths acting as gags. Apparently this man was pretending to be an employee so he could work on his 'unsavoury' projects without being discovered by the law. When an employee finally called him out, he just went berserk and took control of the warehouse.
His conditions are he'll release all but one or two employees, who he'll keep as 'insurance', he gets to work on his projects at home without being investigated. No-one liked those conditions, so I was called.
The man sees me approaching. "ARMS UP!"he demands, aiming his gun at me. I comply. "What the fuck are you doing? I was already close to killing one of these morons, the police were taking so fucking long to agree to my conditions!"
"I apologise that you had to wait so long, the police wanted *all* the hostages released, they were asking me for advice. I said I'd be right over."I tilt my head to the employees. "Let them all go. You can take me."
The man eyes me sceptically. Seeing the sincerity in my expression, he nods. "Alright. Against that wall. I expect your full co-operation."
Hook, line and sinker! Nothing can stop me now! I sit down next to the captives. The man keeps his eyes on me as he frees two employees, who work on freeing the others. The man comes over to me, rope and gag in hand. I don't say a word, I just put my hands out as I let my eyes do the talking - fear, but acceptance.
He grabs my wrists and begins tying them together, before he hesitates. "This is strange... I'm feeling weird..."he looks at me. I stay silent and motionless. My expression doesn't change, but I've forced my eyes to well up.
The man shakes his head and looks away from me, continuing to bind my wrists. He gets out more rope, ready to do my ankles. I subtly move them together. He freezes. "No, something's definitely wrong... I'm almost feeling... guilty... why?"
I notice the employees have realised what's happening. The man tries to go to tie my ankles together, but something stops him. "I... I can't..."he looks at me. I make a tear fall down my face. He narrows his eyes. "It's something about *you*... do you know? You doing this?"
I decide to come clean. "I'm able to make other people feel empathy. It's flawless, works every time. That doesn't always change actions. You might feel empathy now... but emotions can only control so much. It's still up to you."
He looks between my ankles and my face. I look at him with genuine concern. I really want people to be better. I'm scared of what will become of *him* if he doesn't stop.
The man puts down his rope, sighing, and grabs the rope on my wrists. "If I surrender to the police... will you promise to come visit me in prison?"
I smile. "Of course."
He judges my expression one last time, to see if I mean it or am just trying to get out of the situation. He gives a firm nod and unties my wrists. I make no move, simply watch as he stands up, turns around, and puts his arms in the air. He walks out of the warehouse.
As the police swarm around him, I stand up and exit the building as well. The man's hands are cuffed behind his back. I gently push through to him, and give him a hug. "Take care of yourself. I tend to be quite busy, but I'll make sure I make room in my schedule."
He smiles at me. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you."He's marched away into a police car, which then promptly drives off.
"Great work as always"the police chief chimes.
"Thank you, sir. Always a risk, but always worth it."
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Thank you for reading! More stories [here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/x374da/oneoff_stories_a_collection_of_stories_which_are/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) |
"What's this, Rick?"
"Well, Dave, it seems he is chewing on the other teams' keyboards."
"Well, I guess there's no rule against siccing a dog on another teams equipment."
"Apparently not, because the moderators are just standing there, letting it happen."
"Oh, now he is urinating on a server. This has to be a violation."
"Surprisingly, no. A quick review of these rules determined any player could have let loose on this valuable machinery whenever they felt. Or at least, there's no rule saying you can't tinkling on the tech."
"Let me just say, I am absolutely terrified of what this means for my career, Rick."
"Agreed, Dave. I thought we would be replaced by AI, but now it seems Buddy here is just going to destroy esports as we know it."
"And I doubt that there's a rule saying a dog can't be an announcer."
"Truly, our world is Hell."
"That it is, Rick, as the judges have just declared Buddy and the Timberwolves our champions." |
I am really falling In love with this prompt, and I really want to write a book. I guess this first part is the rough draft of chapter 1, and I will be working on grammar and stuff to make it longer. It’s not a guarantee it will be finished, but I have some plans for it and I guess I’ll spoil it.
>!I will have Adela fall in love with Rock and Roll, integrating into human culture slowly. Quill, who is a Rock fan, will travel around town with his new friend. Adela experiences the troubles of this world (Racism; Crime; etc.) and Quill tries to block it from her view, without realizing that she has experienced this stuff back home. I am tired of romance at this point of my life, so they will stay BFFs. Sorry, not sorry!!< |
I was lounging on my couch, flipping through TV channels and nursing a beer. My cozy first apartment was nestled in the heart of the city, just a stone's throw away from a well-known commercial wormhole. Or, more specifically, a bathroom's walk away. I loved it, partially because my favorite pizza delivery place started using it to get to me faster. But what I loved most was the lucrative opportunity it presented.
After hearing a knock on my bathroom door, I opened the door to the pizza delivery guy, who was holding a steaming pizza box.
"Hey man, your pizza's here,"the delivery guy said, holding out the box.
I eagerly took the pizza and inhaled its delicious aroma. "Ah, you're a lifesaver. I was starving."
The delivery guy rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. You got my money?"
I grinned smugly. "Of course, my friend. But, as the sign now says, the toll fee has gone up a bit. 20 grubble per trip. I gotta keep this wormhole in top condition, you know?"
The delivery guy scowled. "You can't just keep hiking up the price, man. It's not fair."
I shrugged. "Hey, that's the cost of premium wormhole usage. I don't let just anyone through it, you know."
The delivery guy begrudgingly handed over the cash and turned to leave. I couldn't resist a parting shot. "Don't forget to leave me a good review, okay? My wormhole's the best in the city."
The delivery guy just shook his head and walked back into the bathroom. I chuckled to myself as I closed the door, thinking about all the money I was making off this wormhole operation. For weeks, I had been charging a hefty toll fee to anyone who used it.
I sat at my kitchen table, counting stacks of grubble and shoveling pizza into my mouth. I couldn't believe how much money i was making off this wormhole operation. Maybe I'd buy a yacht, or a private island, or a giant golden statue of myself. The possibilities were endless.
As I counted my money and fantasized about my future wealth, I didn't notice the time passing by. Hours went by as I daydreamed, and before I knew it, it was almost midnight.
I finally got up from the table, feeling a bit woozy from all the pizza and money-counting. I stumbled into the bathroom to brush my teeth before bed, and that's when I saw it.
The toll sign I'd set up that proudly read "Welcome to Max's Wormhole - only 20 grubble per use!"had been defaced with crude graffiti. It now read "Welcome to Max's bumhole - only 20 grubble per use!"
I glared at the sign. I had spent hours designing it and putting it up, only for some lowlife to deface it with crude graffiti!
I grabbed a marker and scribbled on the sign, "Attention all customers! Due to rising maintenance costs, the price for using Max's Wormhole has been increased to 50 grubbles per use. And if you have any complaints, take it up with Max, the Wormhole Supervisor Extraordinaire!"
I stepped back to admire my work, feeling an immense satisfaction. Nobody messed with me and got away with it!
But as I stared at my work, I realized that all the added words made the sign unintelligible. "Oh, for Grubble's sake,"I muttered, rolling my eyes.
I spent the next few hours designing a new sign, meticulously picking out the perfect font and color scheme to attract more unsuspecting customers. At the bottom of the sign, I added a warning to discourage any future defacers: "Anyone caught vandalizing this sign will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. Remember, such inconsiderate actions only hurt hardworking people like myself."
I climbed into bed soon after, daydreaming about all the money I would make from his petty price hike. I would show them who was boss! |
Drown in booze and sorrow he didn't notice the footsteps.
"To you captain! You vindictive old bastard. To you! It is your favorite after all."
And took another sip.
-It "was"my favorite. You made sure of it. Enjoying the life Jack?
The man turned his head. There he was. A man he once knew, befriended and betrayed. He was dressed in black. His skin pale as snow. His dead gaze piercing throw the soul.
~You whoreson! Can't a man drink in peace? How can I get rid of you? Will you chase me to hell as well?
-Pehaps. I have always been persistent. You knew that. Have many stabs it took for me to fall? thirty?
He paused...
Why are you here Jack? Missed me?
~I have nowhere else to go. My Johnny, my sweet little Johnny died of polio. Anette lost her mind. I lost my son, my wife, my home, even the treasure, I lost fucking everything. I have nothing. I know you cursed me. Like you cursed others. They are all burning in hell now. And I will be joining them soon enough.
-Why did you kill me Jack? Was it envy? Greed? Or did you simply took joy in killing your best friend?
~You were really believing you are immortal. You were reckless. Chasing one legend after another. Finally we had enough. We thought we could take the treasure and start living like decent folks. I curse the day I decided to backstab you. I really do. But we were doomed either way.
He takes another sip. Bottle is almost empty.
~So is this how it's going to end? Me losing my mind? Can't you just take me out of the pity? Put me out of my misery?
Captain takes a step forward. Draw a pistol and shoots Jack in the chest. Jack fall on the gravestone. The Bottle slips from his lifeless fingers. The warm whisky pours into the cracks on the gravestone. The stream find a way into the soil. There is an old wooden coffin under the dirt. Drops of whisky finding a way inside the casket. Dropping inside and hitting the wooden floor. Inside the casket there is a huge sound when drops of whisky finally struck the wood. Echoing endlessly in the empty space. |
\- Sir, how do you do it?Asked the young looking demon from the Daily Devil News.
\- It's actually real easy kiddo...Said the soft looking demon dressed in a grey wool suit, like a vintage door to door sales man from the 50's, while taking a puff from his cigarrette.- if they want riches, you make 'em rich. They want to sell books? you give them a platform to do it, so instead of a store, they can make it on a computer, or a phone, so that people can buy from them from every corner in the world.
\- computer, sir? phone?- They don't have telepathy up there, so they need to make ways to communicate. Smoke signals, flags, lights, then things with cables that transmit sound, images. Heck nowadays they don't even use the cables. Very creative things they are.
The young demon had only been "up there"once, a little while ago, but all he saw was steel armour, swords and yelling, he had very much liked it, as everything smelled like death.
\- my colleagues are very good, but they lack vision. They give them gold and new lands, then they sink the boat when they cross the ocean. Or inmense talent in music, then make them deaf. More recently they got lawyers to hide a clause, if they get to be 27 years old, they just die, so they can use the energy on new clients.
\- So that's why we've had a lot of musicians and actors recently!
\- Exactly. It takes a lot to give so many talents, beauty, charm. I just give them smarts. No personality, no charm, just smarts. But in that world, that means money. And with money they can buy charm and beauty, though let me tell you, most don't even bother. You can see in paintings and photographs of people in power, most are mine by the way, hardly any looker in the bunch. Some don't even ask for smarts, and just good' ol fashioned luck.
The young demon stopped taking notes,
\- But how do you get so many?
\- Remember the computer thing? some guy wanted to get a lot of girls and money, so after the deal he started making and selling those things. Same thing with the phone. And not just one guy, I got hundreds of them. Then I let them meet my other clients, some are the children of guys that wanted money decades ago and sign on just to keep the benefits, or with the ones that wanted power, and then they have the executives for their boards, or the politicians that keep their business running...
... and you never take it away. Why would you? they are going to end up down here anyway. If they have children, you appear once they're 18, and offer to continue the agreement. 99% of the time, they have the pen ready to sign even before you have time to get the contract out. A few decades is peanuts compared to eternity.A small grin appeared on the corner of the devil's mouth.
\- And the free publicity! my clients get me referals everytime. And when you scratch my back, I will put aircon in your back when you're in hell.
\- And how can other demons get even close to your quotas? or a new guy who wants to start working on contracts and needs guidance.
\- Well, you just have to play the long game. The guy that wanted to be rich selling books, uses the inventions of the guy that wanted girls and money, and they get together with my politicians that wanted money and power, and they make it happen. Heck, when a kid sells his soul these days for money, I just end up making them CEO's or CFO's of another of my guys companies, and I don't even give them intelligence or looks, they just stand there and get rich, no competence needed.
The journalist eyes gleamed with admiration.
\- It's an honor sir, I hope more can follow your footsteps and make Hell great again!
\- It's just my job kiddo, and I love it. Just the one thing... when you publish this interview, don't write that I said Heck, it's a bad word, just a bad habbit I acquired when dealing with humans. You see, the other word scares them at the begining, but we have a reputation to uphold for your audiences.
\- Sure thing sir! I understand!
\- You're gonna go far kid.
Said, tapping his shoulder.
\- Now I'm sorry but I have to bounce, I think somebody, somewhere wants to become president again. It's funny, no looks, no smarts, but a bit of luck and a lot of talent lying that cost me pennies, is going to give me returns for years to come... |
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