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jbw5jsv
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jbvvnqn
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[WP] First contact is established between aliens and humanity. And it turns out that all other intelligent species are, for lack of a better term, Kaiju. Being at the bare minimum over 300 meters in height and having a variety of supernatural abilities on top of advanced technology.
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So it turns out that humanity is not alone after all. It's just the intelligent life we were looking for is silicon/metal based, and a _whole_ lot bigger than we expected. How much bigger?
Well two things should make that clear really easily. Firstly, initial contact was achieved by the various scientific institutes doing _exoplanet_ surveys. Ever had a solar system wave at you?
Secondly, it seems the Earth is an egg. With a silicon/metal brain slowly crystallising as the outer core cools. And we've been told by the other exo-intelligences that it's about to "hatch soon". And we can't pin down what _exactly_ they mean by "hatch" or "soon".
So yeah, liquor sales are sky-rocketing at the moment, and global real estate markets are going crazy. Can I buy a six pack in exchange for a high end condo? No? No, don't worry. You're not the first to knock me back today.
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Among the council it was decided that for once we were to reveal ourselves to the Humans. We had given them glimpses, through varying forms of fiction, letting them know what we existed. Humans with supernatural abilities, cybernetics and mechanics, infinite realities, the such. The council was composed of three of us, each one designated to their own particular purpose, with each freedom to do as we please. I, myself, am the second of the three, and while the others are static in appearance, I am able to take whatever form I wish, which is why I was left in charge of transmuting traces of our existences to the Humans, as Humans, we found, can’t take everything all at once, but need it revealed to them in small portions. They are simple like that indeed.
We decided not to reveal ourselves to the world at large, but to a boy, no less than 11 years old, living in Kentucky. His name was Robin. It was night time, and he had decided to stay up that night to read, against his parents commands. He was hiding underneath the covers, when we decided to illuminate his room with a light so bright, his blankets became translucent and he could see right through. We knew this would cause anyone a lot of commotion, so in my infinite ability, I made sure that no one else could see the light, only Robin. And I made sure no one could enter the room. He looked up from his book and stared at us.
“Don’t be afraid,” I said.
He took a deep breath and then fainted, out of shock. Usually what happens when we reveal ourselves. We walk ourselves over to him, in the form of three humans. It wasn’t time to reveal our true forms just yet. That would come tomorrow. And we came to tell Robin of what was to come.
“Robin,” I said. “Be healed! Look up! Rise!”
With that Robin opened his eyes and sat up on his bed. He looked at us with wonder.
“Who are you?” he asked. “Why have you come.”
“We have come to tell you of the future, so you shall know what is to come, so you can tell the people you love, and they could tell the people the love, that if they believe you, they will be spared. If they do not, they won’t be spared. You are but a child, but we are granting you the wisdom and peace to lead you through this, for this is a tough assignment, but one that we will help you get through. And while you may ask us, Robin, why we are doing what we are doing, we are here to tell that we are doing what we are doing because it’s necessary, and first contact must be made between us and the Humans. So we want you to turn on the TV tomorrow night, as we will be transporting ourselves to the Heart of America and will surround America in our true forms. And we will see how they react. We can tell you that at first, it does not bode well for you Humans. But with time, things will get easier. We in no way want to be worshipped. We just need your assistance. And we can only accept the assistance of those who’s testimony is pure and true, which is you. We will be with you. We will keep you sane.”
With that, I remove the light, and before Robin can say anything, I wisk us away. We still keep observing him in our minds, and we see him close his book, and eventually, with our assistance, fall asleep.
The next day we do exactly as we say. I appear in the form of a giant eagle, while the others appear as a giant bear, and giant Bull, respectively. We give our speech to the world, telling them we will return in 50 years. We tell them to listen to Robin from Kentucky, who is only 11 years old. We tell them we can do as we please. And in the sight of the world, I teleport the moon into my mouth, showing them just a portion of my power. I put it back, and with that, we complete our first contact. I disappear us from plain sight.
All the while we were watching Robin in our minds. We saw his parents watch, and then believe him. And then we see him spread the news all across the world. One day we will return. Then will be second contact. Then we will return as one. What a glorious day that will be.
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kexbcw7
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keuidz3
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[WP] After mistakenly transfering to a high school for monsters, you try to tell them that you're just a regular human. However, because of bizarre coincidences creating apparently inexplicable situations, the school population and teachers come to believe you're actually an Eldritch Abomination
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**I’m not good with writing and I’m new to WP so advice would be nice, if not enjoy the story and have a nice day**
On my way to my therapist a cubic shaped slime with a letter in it walks up to me, as it got closer to me it started to shiver and it bubbles started to form in it like a fizzy drink, it stoped a meter away from me and stretched out the card inside it
As soon as I took the card the cube let go and dashed at full speed, speeding through a guy so fast his clothes don’t even burn off
I open the letter And there’s a peace of paper “congratulations you have been selected by the N.1 school of demonics and monsters, where you will learn to enhance and protect your potential, in the next piece of paper is all the materials you’ll need for classes
I opened the necked paper and it said “all expenses funded by school”
I enterd the school but missed most of my classes since they over lapped with all my therapy, **and I really needed therapy** and thanks to that I was known as the ‘popular loner’ that thought he was ‘above the school’ I didn’t make any friends and the teachers were terrified of and hated me
Through gossip I learned that the monster I had ‘slain’ as a child were high ranked warriors here, when I’d try to explain it was an accident people would think I was joking or making fun of someone and my dormmate think I’m just insecure and says he knows the real me, and that’s what he said, but with my declining mental health, I didn’t care
When the tornoment of strength rose everyone expected me to join, and out of fear no one else did. Expect for the werepiretar, my ‘rival’
(Were-pir-tar werewolf-vampire-centaur hybrid)
He was the complete opposite from me, tall extroverted, strong, *mentally stable*
he hated me too for the ‘disrespect to the school’ and how I’d get away with ‘tormenting’ the other students
Really I’d just get unlucky when talking to people and they’ed end up hurt, but when I tried to explain myself it looked like I was making fun of the person that ‘i atacked’ the staff were too afraid of me to punish me tho
Anyway back to the tornoment, My plan was to join taunt the werepiretar and let him take me out of my misery,
As I walked to up ready to end it all I watched as my rival started to twitch, then turn, I looked up, it wasn’t just a full moon not even a blood moon but a blue moon, I watched as my rival tossed and turned as his hybrid body wasn’t ment for this power, the weakness of a werewolf with the strength of a vampire and the chaos of a centaur, until he was torn apart as I won by default
Again
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An Eldritch abomination? Does anyone even know what that means? Many claim they do, but the truth is a rather complex set of circumstances that can make you one and if you are skilled enough you can still go back if you didn't do anything preventing you from entering the light side again. Truth be told, anyone can join the light side but if your deeds in the darkness were too numerous it can hurt a lot. Do you want a lesson in the ways of light and darkness? If so, then following lines will clarify essentials of the theory of cosmic powers.
There are two basic aspects dividing the Universe in two competing powers driving the evolution forward, which essentially makes both of them valuable as with one side prevailing, the Universe slows its development, possibly even degenerating the prevailing side until both of them are even again. Essentially a predator and prey dynamics from ecosystems known even throughout the Earth. So far many of you knew about this even before, but here comes the news rarely stumbled upon.
Light and darkness are words not chosen randomly. Just like color white reflects light and darkness absorbs it, the two sides work in comparable ways. Beings of light emit a powerful source of energy known as the Force, while beings of darkness drag the light into themselves, feeding themselves on everything that lives. This is why darklings and monsters can grow so powerful as they are not limited to their own source, but they can slay thousands and as such grow to immense power, but on the other hand cutting them away from life slowly kills them while beings of light shine just as bright in complete isolation.
Both light and dark aspects have fundamental forces of Universe at their disposal. Darkness grants you time and reality manipulation powers just as ability to use souls, while light side favours intellect, physical strength and expansion through space. This might sound confusing, but in short it means achieving transcendence through omnipotent technology allowing the most powerful beings of light to quickly travel through space and settle distant stars using power of their immense intellect and physical power granted to them through the use of technology.
Darkness on the other hand grows through consuming light and using it to alter reality, control the flow of time and summon new souls. This is essentially what's called magic and manifestation. Beings of dark achieve transcendence through biological evolution and as such they are frequently numerous and many of them die at a young age as a way to filter through infinite number of designs nature can evolve into.
Do you want to hear a little secret? Every being of light can decide to start consuming light of others and every darkling can decide to stop feeding itself light, go through the process of purge and start radiating its own light.
This is where the battle begins. It is a well kept secret a sense of what it means to be a dark being can be transferred through sonic waves and as such music became a weapon of the dark side. Slipknot's Antennas to Hell are more than just the name of an album. They can actually turn you into a dark being, which can easily bring you to Hell. Do you want to know how? It all starts with the lack of education.
Darkness is essentially a feeling and as such it can be induced. It feels almost like a sucking of outer energy through your body, which feels good and after some time, it even makes you feel the power of the dark side. It all starts with awareness of the light, which is essentially an ability known as Force tracking. You will become aware of life around you, feeling it almost like a physical field of a magnet all around your body. It starts with close proximity, but eventually you will be able to sense all life many miles away from you.
This is my story. Unbeknownst to me, magic is real and I managed to fall for it out of ignorance and curiosity. It started with listening to Slipknot, which induced in me a new feeling I was not aware of, I then started sensing life around, at first just a few meters from me, but later many miles away. It suddenly started to feel real nice to imagine drawing that life into myself, first from a couple of meters away, but later I imagined large tentacles spanning through the most potent energy sources many miles away, which caused my energetic body to swell into gigantic proportions and that was essentially beginning of an end.
By that time I was a powerful magician with might rivalling the best in class, all of it without even knowing how magic operates. I just felt it like a second nature and spells obeyed me just the way I intended. Combine it with an astral body of a giant and you are surely in a problem. There are people that can see auras everywhere and with energetic body that is hundred meters tall you have no way to hide. Following month I was killed and brought to underground Dark Academia for monsters of all kinds, where I finally realized that what I was doing was real and I was actually hurting people. Thousands of people at once, all of them just a little bit, but I was a dark being none the less.
Afterwards I quickly switched back to radiating light, which was effortless as my karmic debt was quite small and I worked through it in a matter of days. Now I radiate light just as any other human, my magic powers are almost gone and so is my stay at the school I got myself into by accident. What should I say? Basic magical awareness should be taught even to humans so that they won't fall for the first trap they come across and with Spotify so widely available many of them will encounter their first taste of darkness. Why not to teach them about it and make sure they know how to resist in the first place?
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kb4pov3
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kb4kiia
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[WP] You are a god with no followers nor enemies, yet you still persist. No god had ever lived without worship before. The other gods are stumped as to why this is so...until you tell them what you are the god of.
|
I answered the Council’s summons with my presence. I wish I could say this had never happened before, but it occurred every now and again; every few hundred years, they suddenly remembered that I existed, and demanded answers of me.
“Nameless One,” spoke the elder Goddess, waving hair pulled back into a low ponytail as she regarded me with her wizened gaze. “Stop your shifting this instant. Maintain yourself.”
“Oh, how I wish I could,” I responded. “But if I knew how, I suspect I would not be who I am.”
“We will not allow for chaos in our presence,” said another deity. “Enough.”
I released a sigh and shrugged. One moment, I was white, the next, I was black, the next after, tan. There was no pattern or rhyme or reason to my shiftings. I saw my reflection in Grith’s shield. Constantly, every one of my features changed, from my portrayed height and age to my hair and eye color. Who was I to be a divine of any kind?
“If you will not speak to us with a straight face,” spoke the elder Goddess once more. “then you will at least speak to us plainly.”
“As You wish,” I responded.
Her shoulders were drawn up as she stared at me pensively. “Tell us, then, Nameless One. What are you the divine of? We have found no trace of you throughout the history of humankind, and we have no mention of you within our tomes.”
“Ah, but You do,” I said with a frown. Every divine war had come down to my presence, my existence, despite my desire for peace.
It was in my nature. There was nothing I could do.
“If you spoke the truth, then you would have no need to be before us. What are you divine of?” she said, not letting up.
Memories of the past resurfaced. Once, I had pursued a great many things. I believed, sincerely, that with effort and devotion to myself and my fellow deities I would find a solution to all my woes.
Even this was hampered by who, what, I was.
Grith had nearly become my lover, once. They were a beautiful person, something more than a God or Goddess, bearing the parts and essence of both. We had grown close, but one day, my efforts were discovered to be in vain. I’ll never forget how they pointed their spear at me, holding their shield close to their body as they demanded I reveal my true nature to them.
I already had.
That’s what got me into that mess in the first place.
“If I speak it, there will be war once more. Please, do not make me.” The Goddess raised her well-manicured eyebrow. “What sort of divine makes requests so plainly of another, no less an elder?”
“A desperate one,” I said.
“Are you truly a deity?”
“Yes.”
“I am not sure I believe you.”
“You need not believe me, just let me return to my life of isolation.”
The elder Goddess seemed almost amused by my request. She looked to Grith, who nodded. Grith took their spear and pointed its tip at my person. “You will answer Sof, for She is Most Wise.”
“I... do not think this is wise,” I said, shaking my head. The spear’s tip burst into flame as Grith grew impatient with what likely seemed like blatant disrespect.
“Speak it. Now.”
My heart broke again and again. Even Grith, my dearest one, could not recall me. With an inhale, I said,
“I am Bedlam, doubt personified.”
|
The High Pantheos are assembling. There are ever so many gods and ever so many things to be a god of. They quarrel with each other constantly like celebrities and compete with each other for attention like influencers all with one goal, one purpose, to be worshiped.
You see, that’s what sustains us, the Panthekir, the “gods” of the universe. Really we’re what you humans would call interdimensional telepathic multi-forms. “Monsters” if you’re feeling cheeky. “Aliens” if we tunnel across one of your borders…which we aren’t going to do…because we have spaceships. I guess you’d call us “aliens” if we pulled up in one of those too, but it’s beside the point.
The HP is a figuratively fluid body of Panthekir who have achieved the greatest number and/or most fervent believers. Each time someone calls any of the dozen or so names each of us is allowed to go by per world we invest in, the corresponding Panthekir racks up glory points. Temples provide a huge boost, especially if it's used daily.
Some, like the one you’d call Pan, god of the natural untainted world, is still around but faded away as peoples across the universe increasingly favor the one your stories call Hephaestus, god of forges, technology, and industry.
Indeed Hephaestus has nearly overtaken the one you call Zeus, though you speak of him as Odin, Wodin, and God with a capital G sometimes. He is the god of wisdom and creativity which are held in high esteem across known space and time.
Like I was saying, there are ever so many Panthekir, a whole species actually, and sometimes one slips through cracks, goes unnoticed for millennia. That one is me, and I’m currently in shackles being tried by the High Pantheos as a traitor.
Why? Because they found that I have exactly 0 followers. No one howls my name into the dark night when wolves are closing in. No one calls on me when their computer screen freezes or they need advice or they want a girl to fall in love with them or at least give them a bj. No one, and yet I exist.
They’re also wondering how such heavily charged and powerful beings such as themselves could’ve missed my presence for literally ten thousand years.
“Mirabald Envestis,” Enwaric (our name for Odin) used my real name as well, “You are here to answer for the crime of walking amongst the gods while you are not a god. How do you plead?”
“How do you know that I am not one of you?” I answer.
Enwaric looked left and right at the assembled HP then turned back to me, “You have no followers. I don’t see a single name calling you in your entire existence. You must be a leech, a parasite posing as one of us and feeding off our following.”
“Not guilty,” I reply.
The High Pantheos laughed uproariously at this. I knew what they were doing. Like I said earlier, Panthekir sustain themselves with the attention of the various terrestrial species of the universe. They do the same with their own kind. This whole trial was their version of Judge Judy. Justice for entertainment. Their conclusion was foregone. “Justice” was a foreign concept to all but Athena, who looked mulish, but remained silent. Clearly she’d been overruled by Enwaric.
I’ll give them something to entertain themselves with.
“Oh by the way, how is Nela?”
Enwaric’s head, which was thrown back in a laugh, suddenly snapped down and fixed me with a look of surprise and horror. It was gone a fraction of a second too late. One of the other Panthekir, who by the way, had all adopted the human form since they liked it best, looked over and glared at him.
I smiled. Hera was not the goddess of Jealousy, that was Aphrodite’s job, but my god Hera could still FEEL the emotion and was putting it out in waves right now.
“Who’s Nela?” She demanded of Enwaric.
“Oh uhh, no one, she’s no one. I don’t know what Mirabald is talking about.”
Hera’s eyes were simmering with heat, “Oh I know, you’re on one of your nymph benders again.”
“Am not!”
“Are too! Ohhhh, just you wait until I get my hands on that little whore!”
The two gods battled back and forth with words, and I flicked my eyes to the right. My plan was working. Teasing the great ones is an incredibly rewarding pass time. They fell on Aphrodite. She was giddily looking at her score on a holopad. She could never match the sheer breadth of Enwaric’s influence, but cat fights between gods, especially highly public ones like this, gave her huge boosts.
Aphrodite was the only god who knew what I was, mostly because we’re so similar, but also because she’s the only one I ever told. She captures the essence of my desire and our energies work well with each other. Call us partners in diversion.
I told you we are multi-forms, right? Who do you think Nela really is?
Think about it, haha.
What time is it? Can you check your phone for me?
Oooh! Look at that, that person who left you on read yesterday finally texted you back. Ask them out!
But first, pop open that notification that just dropped from the top of your screen. It’s probably reddit letting you know about something SUPER important. IMPERATIVE, actually, that you click on it right now and give your anonymous opinion.
Man, you just death scrolled for fucking two hours, shame on you. But hey, there’s a simple solution. Get an analogue wrist watch. If you’re checking your wrist for the time it’ll be so much easier to stay off your phone.
Why don’t you pop open your amazon app and shop for a good one at a great price?
Oops, it’s been another two hours and now you’ve gotta spend another two sorting through all the cyber monday crap you popped in there but can’t afford.
Haha, poor person. Maybe you should pull up indeed and go through another depressing three or four months looking for a better job.
Bling! Somebody on a youtube ads wants to offer you an opportunity to make millions in three months.
It’ll go great, I promise. Just don’t call on my name or you’ll never get there.
Can you guess who I am?
\---------------------------------------------
check out r/inspiredshortstories for more!
Novel is publishing to [wattpad](https://www.wattpad.com/user/AlaricStargazer) in 2-3 parts daily!
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j8loqv9
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j8lmmyt
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[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.
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The Arrangement had been going on between us for long enough that it earned the capitlisation of its' name. The Spectre would kidnap me, take me to his (current) lair and hold me until I was rescued. Sure, over time that has evolved into a text message 24 hours prior, my agreement to *only* put up a struggle when we were in the public eye, and he makes sure I am comfortable and fed before things get exciting; but that's why we call it The Arrangement after all.
Some folks will say... things; *mean* things about it. They have said that its all an elaborate ruse to cover an affair - something my ex was all-too-happy to believe when he ran off with that Hooters Waitress. Others called in a professional psych who claimed I had Stockholm Syndrome and a CNC fetish... ew!
But put-simply, we have a professional agreement and understanding; before he kidnapped me the first time, The Spectre had a hard go of it - hostages who had delusions of being Bruce MacLaine, and ended up like Hans Gruber...
Oh the movie reference? Yeah, thats what I do to pass the time in captivity; we watch movies together.
He's getting fidgety though, we already watched *The Matrix* AND *Matrix Reloaded*; not gonna lie - I hope we are interrupted with a rescue soon; or we will have to sit through *Revolutions*.
He's on the phone again to the Police Commissioner, repeating his demands; but I am noticing his heart isn't in it now, what's going on?
*"They aren't coming"*
*"Wait, what do you mean They aren't coming?"*
He shakes his head, I have only ever seen him this dejected once before, and that was when Ghost-Dog got ran over by a police car. This is... Awkward
*"They worked out The Arrangement; they are refusing to either pay ransom or rescue you. They are calling you an accomplice."*
Okay, this is worse; I have never seen him like this before, so hurt, so disappointed, so vulnerable... so hot?
Oh shit
*"Well, if that's how they want this to play out..."*
I reach out and touch his hand
*"Maybe we can give it a try..."*
He looks at me, his face hardening, shit - did I go too far? Suddenly he drops to one knee.
And pops me the question...
*"I know this is sudden but... Would you sidekick me?"*
|
Why do they call it Stockholm syndrome?
If I had my phone on me I’d look that up. I can’t at the moment, I’m a little…tied up. Oh, yeah, you can’t actually see me. My hands are literally bound and I’m locked in a cage. Fun times. But it’s not so bad. Dr. BadBraun is actually a pretty cool guy.
Ok, sure, it’s a little sad that my most long-term and reliable relationship happens to be with a villain who consistently kidnaps me. So what? Don’t yuck someone else’s yum. We get along pretty well. He doesn’t tie the ropes too tightly, and usually doesn’t gag me—unless of course the scenario calls for that.
*Scenario*. Sure, I agree, that makes it sound dirty, like we’re roleplaying. And I suppose in a way we are. Not in a sexual way or anything. I know he won’t hurt me, not for real anyway, or at least not on purpose. It’s my role to look as distressed as possible when the hero shows up. And by god, am I good at my role.
I took acting classes to learn how to cry on command. Dr. BadBraun hasn’t noticed yet, or at least he hasn’t let on that he has—so withholding, that one. Why is it that guys always want to act like you’re not as great as you are? Are they all so insecure that they think you’ll drop them the second you realize your self-worth?
God, that makes me sound so clingy. I swear, I’m *not* clingy. I just—I work hard at this, and I wish he’d recognize the effort I put in to adequately fool the hero into thinking I’m in danger.
Speaking of the hero, where the hell is that guy?
This is why you never fall for heroes—they’re never where you need them to be. Talk about a job that should come with hazard pay. Have you ever been in a relationship with a hero? Jesus Christ! You might as well have a big red bullseye on your back.
“I don’t think he’s coming,” says Dr. BadBoi dejectedly. Oops, did I actually write Dr. BadBoi? I’m so bad.
“Should I scream?” I ask. “Or would it help if I begged for my life? What if I cried? Is this the one with super hearing? What if—“
“Would you just stop!” He interrupts. Rude. I’m just trying to be helpful. “I’m sorry. I—I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just…I’m under a lot of pressure here and I’m just so stressed. I haven’t been sleeping—“
“Shhhh….” My turn to interrupt.
“What are you—?” He says.
“Shhhh…You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Dr. BadBraun. I get it. I get you. Villains don’t get their due. Especially you. You’ve always been so kind to me. I think you get a bad rap. You’re so much more intelligent than those pesky heroes, and not to mention so much stronger! They’re just coated in plot armor!”
His face lights up. I love it when that happens.
Ok, ok, maybe my feelings are a *little* romantic. Sue me. I have needs. Who among us haven’t fallen for someone we shouldn’t? That’s what I thought. For your safety, please keep all judgmental thoughts securely inside your head until the end of the ride. Thank you.
“You’re right!” He says. “They’re all just caked in fucking plot armor!” Oooh, I love it when he curses. The heroes can’t do that. Those straight-edge phonies. One time when Mr. Stupendo—stupid name, right?— was saving me I heard him say the F word and he blushed. Can you believe it? He fucking blushed.
“You know what I’ve noticed?” I ask.
“What’s that?” He says. I’ve got his full attention. What a rare treat!
“Heroes tend to lose their plot armor when there’s a damsel in distress. You should try chucking me off the building to see if you can catch them off guard.”
“You’re not a fucking damsel,” he says. “For one, you’re a fucking middle aged bald dude, Allen, and for two, you’re my goddam sidekick and they all know it!”
Such harsh words! I can barely contain my surprise? Me? A bald man? *Middle-aged*? Heavens me. I know I’ve let myself go a little, what with the holidays and all, but to be mistaken for such a creature….it hurts.
I cry a little. Am I not a person? If I am wounded do I not bleed? Ok, so I’m a sidekick. Though, I prefer ‘henchman’ since Dr. BadBoi—did I do it again?—is a villain. But that doesn’t make my feelings any less valid.
“I’ll forgive that slight,” I say in a dignified tone. “But you’ve kidnapped me and brought me here, so you’ll at least let me speak!”
“My god, Allen, for the last time, I tied you up because you kept trying to hug me! You’re in timeout! If you keep this up I’m going to have to let you go!”
Gaslighting? Is this guy seriously gaslighting me right now? I *know* he isn’t trying to gaslight me.
“You kidnapped *me*! Not the other way around, mister. I won’t be gaslit in this way any further! Now let me say my piece!”
He rests his face in his palms. So presidential. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders and only I can help him lighten the load.
“By all means,” he says. Such a gentleman. I told you, he’d never hurt me on purpose.
“Do you know why they call it Stockholm syndrome, doctor?” I ask.
He gives me a perplexed look. Oh to stump a genius such as he! He’ll surely love me for this!
“No, I don’t know why they call it that,” he says.
“It’s because the kidnapper has to Sweden the deal…” I say with a great big grin.
“I didn’t kidnap you!” He screams. He has such a fire about him.
I just love it when we spend time together. I hope he kidnaps me again soon.
Who am I kidding? I know he will.
_______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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je6y870
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je61rgk
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[WP] You are a budget mage. While most of your colleagues use costly ingredients, rituals that take weeks to prepare and use a new spell for every problem, you only know a few spells, use common household ingredients and prepare rituals within minutes. They unjustly deride your work as shoddy.
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"THAT SHOULDN'T WORK!"
"_Well it did, you saw for yourself._"
"Gnnnnn. I mean you just _killed_ a dragon ... using garden supplies! And what the hell was that incantation?"
"_Look. We've been friends despite a lot of ... stuff. Can I trust you to keep a secret?_"
"... fine?"
"_Remember last April Fools when you sent me to that mundane world for a month?_"
"Look. I've already apologised for that. I didn't think it would be that hard to bring you back. I even handed myself over to the College's tender mercies once I realised I wasn't going to get you back by myself."
"_Not trying to guilt you man. That month was the best thing that ever happened to my magical career. I worked out how to visit any time I want and I've been spending the entire year learning SCIENCE!_"
"Oh that trollop again? The scientific method blah blah blah, and that alg... algae.."
"_Algebra._"
"Mathematics with letters. You expect me to believe that allows you to kill a dragon?"
"_Well that and these books specifically._"
"...Thermodynamics for _Dummies_? History of ... Guns? My Little Chemistry Set? Metallurgy for Beginners? I'm not getting it. And you still didn't tell me the incantation you used."
"_Focault's Geometric Binding._"
"... That's a First Year Spell, isn't it? What did it do again?"
"_Makes a tube of magical force._"
"... Nope. Still not getting it."
"_I've just invented the Spell of Gun._"
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"There! All set and done! Aetherium luminata!"
The chanting voice of Phyldiane filled the dark, cobblestone-lined room with trembling echoes, as her cooking pot over the brightly-blue sparkling flames glows with its embers. It was a success! And the slightly charred pot was filled with a cyan liquid, whose turbulent, oil-like essence swirl amidst the heat.
"I did it! Ha! A lightning buff potion!"
She danced quite a bit upon her success. She was so proud of her work. And what's more, none of her fellow classmates at the Incantorium Academica ever knew that she only spent a meager 5 white pearls on her ingredients.
"Take that, Mistulia! Once I show this to them tomorrow, that shoddy witch can shut the hell up on me!", she uttered in a gruntled tone as she slowly brews the cooked potion onto her glass bottle. In her mind, she insistently remembers what happened earlier at the Incantorium with the confrontation she has with her after class.
"You crazy! That's impossible, flea den.", Mistulia insisted, looking straight at Phlydiane's face. "Either you have to pay for a diamond crystal for it or you take months of cooking for that lightning buff potion to get."
"Nah, I can do it in hours, even tomorrow!", Phlydiane confidently told her. "Don't make it sound impossible just because I am better than you.", she said as her eyes rolled out.
"Oh, look who's talking. That one girl who thinks she is so good and can defy magic rules just because she got an A+ score in Mrs. Gemphrian's test!", Mistulia said in a mocking tone. "You will never do that, flea face, that is what the Book of Incantarions say is the minimum."
"Your rules don't apply to me, oh please. Unlike you who sticks with your books, I can make my own ways and explore. You are just smart, but not creative."
Mistulia casually puts her hand in her bag as if she is getting something.
"Alright, let's make a deal young lady. If you don't have a lightning buff potion by tomorrow, you drink this!", Mistulia said as she shows a bottle of brown liquid.
"What the hell is that?", Phlydiane asks in quite disgust.
"Oh, just my little ventrem confractio bottle. Drink it, and see how you puke your guts all over the place to my heart's desire!", Mistulia said with a grin.
"Deal! However if I brought, YOU drink that crap.", Phlydiane told her.
"Oh sure, either way. I will not drink this, trust me. You better off prepare your leather bags as you barf all over the place. Face me tomorrow, 2 AM at the moonsilver fountain at the plaza."
Phlydiane agreed to her demands, and walks away while being stared at with her classmates around her.
"Why are you staring at! Get off your lives, suckers! I got a job to do!", she said angrily as she hurried home.
Phlydiane, just finished with he potion work, raises her lightning buff bottle. At that moment her father, the great mage-alchemist Pernigcian, enters her room.
"Oh, what's that young lady? An experiment underway? You like to follow my work, don't you?", her father said as he folds his magic robes away. Chaffed with a beard and wearing his spectacles, he turns towards his daughter as she spoke.
"Yeah, I did this potion. Because my classmate couldn't believe me that I can make this in just a short time. So I made a bet on her."
"Really? You making bets now? That doesn't sound too nice for you to do."
"They just don't know your methods, father. They don't know your ideas and kept insisting that age-old Incantations book! Your ideas of alchemy can change magic!"
Her father laughed quite a bit, and patted her on her shoulder.
"Phlydiane, be responsible, okay? I don't want to reveal this to anyone. I trust you to keep it a secret."
"Why do you want it to be secret? This is marvelous!"
"Phlydiane, I don't know what will happen. If people found out about this, they might saw us as sorcerers, using black magic. And all I just want is your safety. I don't want you to get into trouble. So please, keep our methods secret, okay?"
Phlydiane reluctantly agrees as her father embraced her.
"Care to take a look at what you have done?", he asks her. Phlydiane reaches out her glass bottle.
"The lightning buff aetherium luminata. Let me guess, you used coal for this, right?" Phlydiane smiled a bit. "Coal and diamond are just the same form of one thing, just arranged differently. And that is what makes this possible. You will really make expense of doing it the old way. But hey, this is the last time you will do this. Keep it hidden as much as possible, okay?"
"Very well, father. I'll keep my promise.", Phlydiane agrees.
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loi317d
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lohwwr9
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[WP] You pretend to be a small-time villain. At most, you annoy the local supers but your crimes never hurt anyone. To you it's all good fun. Things change when a truly sadistic super villain invades your turf and murders a few of the supers. No one has seen the extent of your true powers until now.
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The news were all over it. Wonder was death. Shot right on the hearth, he agonized for a few hours but doctors couldn't do anything... His identity was made public: Rick Tomas. He was only 14.
Damn, kid... You couldn't get away of that monster, could you? Not all villains are like me, you know? No... Of course you knew... This is why you tried to stop that bastard...
I only did this for the money, thought I admit I started having fun playing with you... I robbed something, you recognized it was me, you looked for me, sometimes you'd find me, some others I robbed some more... Sometimes you recovered the bounty, some times I managed to get away with it... No one got hurt. Worst case scenario, the insurance would give some problems when was time to reembolse the banks.
I asked for permision for going to your funeral, you know? It wasn't possible, this kind of things take time and it was with too short of a notice. So I escaped. Not particularly difficult when you can pass through walls. Cold iron was never a barrier, sorry about that little lie, seemed prudent to make the police believe I could be contained instead of letting them find a way to actually do it.
I admit. I didn't have much of a plan, just going out, seeing you for a last time... Maybe pay my respects... Then what? Go back to prison? Move? I wasn't expecting to be so... I am not sure. Sad? Angry? It's hard to tell.
But then that jackass showed up.
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Part 1 of 2
The heart has its reasons which reason knows nothing of.
Pascal wrote as much. You're not certain what it was about, certainly something about God and faith. Not that it matters, the sentence stuck with you, and you agree. One shouldn't always look for reasoning, the absence of it explains so many things.
Streets built to accommodate traffic as if each driver was a droplet under the yoke of fluid mechanics; industrial zones separated from living areas to keep it all ordained and neat; motorways connecting farms to the concrete where people ate. It looks rational and sensible, and that is all it is. A pretense at common sense, just enough to keep the illusion alive; That mankind is, on a global and individual scale, dictated by science and enlightened.
As if.
You certainly believed so too, once. It's an architect's prerogative to think in right angles and load-bearing walls. Ah, the folly of youth. If only the old would recognize this folly and let go of it, but no, it appears you are cursed like Cassandra before you, to see and tell the truth and never to be believed. Then again, it's easier living in an illusion, they cannot be blamed.
"Any idea?" a voice asks behind you as you contemplate the body, warm blood seeps from a slit throat. There is a menacing tinge in the voice. They fear you, they know what you've done in the past, they know you are causing problems on the regular still. They also prefer the devil they know.
"I say we have a contender on our hands," you reply.
The victim was killed at home, a nice apartment up in a skyscraper with a fully-equipped kitchen open on a tasteful living-room and massive windows looking over the city. Hard to breach, some would say. Easy place to get isolated and far from help a killer would reply.
You recognize the method. Slick, efficient, driven.
Like you, once.
Young and brash, you were armored in the certainty of knowledge, wielding efficiency and reason as weapons. If only you were in charge, then things could finally go forward. Few agreed, it was a human right to choose for themselves, so they said, mistakes were part of growth. Mistakes were done aplenty over centuries, and still the world was on the brink of collapse. Choice is what brought us there, it was up to you to correct this mistake.
You never were a grand and powerful warrior. In truth, nobody is. Humans merely need to shape their hopes and fears in the plastic of heroes and villains. The stories are always grand and noble, unlike the truth, and these great figures often forgot that. You didn't. When they came for an honest duel, you trapped them in a burning building. When they came to save your hostages, they discovered they didn't want to be saved.
And when they tried to handle things like adults and pick you apart in a public debate, they discovered how you, unlike them, had a vision. And as blind humanity is to their own heart, they still wished for reason to rule them, and your vision had enough gold and right angles to make you beloved.
It isn't a fight under a thunderstorm that brought you to power, but a vision spoken on cameras. Heroes and villains, the concepts are outdated.
You worked hard. The world a mess to be remade, reorganized. The wealthy and inefficient saw their funds put to good use without their opinion. Clogged streets, like waterways, were reorganized to handle each droplet. The cities, like humans, perfected to get the world forward. No choice meant going up. And up it went. From the brink, each system, be they financial, human, or ecological, recovered and thrived.
Gorgeous, it was gorgeous. These moments when you could earnestly think *it's going to be alright*.
You're lost in the memory as you hound the killer. They are easy to track, they are like a younger you. There are a few misses in your hunt, murders you predicted not happening, for the killer had yet to perfect the method. You admire their will, their hope, their childish belief. Such a beautiful illusion. Age has ripped this illusion from you.
The killer may not reach that age. She stands before you, knife gleaming in the dark of an unlit alleyway. The sort of path one with good education wouldn't dare taking, and one with bad education has seen the danger of and avoids. The rain pours, the thunder roars, whatever happens, you and her are well and truly alone. No scream will be heard, no unlucky passerby will watch.
"I have a vision," you hear her say, it is the only justification she needs to lunge for your throat.
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k8npbr0
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k8nij5c
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[WP] You wronged them years ago and now they rule the country. You can't shake the feeling that the new laws are targeting you unfairly.
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My brother is now the king, how this happened I have no idea, we didn't even have a monarchy before! Me and him have a strained relationship, I kicked him out of my house when he refused to get a job. Apparently he joined the military and became so powerful that he overthrew the government.
For all I have against him I can't argue he's made the country better, for most people anyway. Unemployment is way down, I haven't seen a homeless person in weeks, healthcare and university is free now. Honestly I'd have no problems with it if it weren't for the strangely specific laws.
I was watching my TV, with basically complete freedom of press some of the news was actually interesting. Coming across the openly government owned channel talking about a new law, one quote stood out to me,"All brothers and sisters of present and future rulers must pay a new 'royalty' tax." One of the things people had against my brother was the taxes which did have to go up with all the new social programs. I guess it made some sense for when my brother had an actual family but for now it would only affect me.
Turning off my TV in anger I feel a buzzing in my pocket, my phone. It was a call from my dad, I answered,"Hey dad."
"Hi Robbie, are you doing well?"
"Well enough dad."
"You sound angry, is this about your brother?"
"Not particularly I'm proud of him it's the new royalty tax thing."
"Oh yes I was watching the new hippie news station."
"Why?"
"Entertainment."
"Fair enough. Anyways you need anything else."
"No just checking in champ. You know you can call me or your mother anytime."
"I know, love you."
"Love you."
I hung up the phone and put it back into my pocket. To get my mind off everything I decided to go for a walk, the air was cleaner than ever and the paths were well maintained. I put in my headphones and begin to walk.
About 5 minutes into my walk, a police officer stops me,"Can you please take out your earphones sir?" Not wanting to get in trouble with the police I would take them out,"Sir do you know why I'm stopping you."
"No?"
"Well this street is a full concentration zone, so no music or texting."
"Oh sorry officer, it's hard to keep up with all the new stuff."
"It's fine, the king apparently based it off how much his brother was distracted and nearly got run over."
"Did he how." I would shake my head and swear to myself.
"Yeah you'll be fine when you get to the park though. Have a good day sir." And with that the officer left.
Being a king never changed his pettiness it seems.
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It’s human nature to want what’s best for your kind, isn’t it? That’s how we justified our treatment of you humans when we took over your planet three hundred years ago. Surely, we thought, you’ll understand the use of your own logic against you?
You didn’t. Part of me wails “Freaking hypocrites!” The other part completely understands. For I am, by nature, an empathic creature…but that is not how I treated you.
Before I tell you about what happened on my end and what consequences followed, let me tell you a bit about who it is you have followed for two and half centuries. We are the Zentharians, or rather, a rogue element of the Zentharians. Our species evolved on a remote exoplanet in the Zenthar system.
We are physiologically distinct from most other species in the galaxy, possessing luminescent, semi-transparent exoskeletons that reflect light in mesmerizing patterns. This ethereal quality has caused other races we visit to regard us as gods.
We reinforced this idea through a neat trick, quantum-synchronicity. We are the only known species in the universe who can communicate with each other by manipulating the relationship between paired quantum particles, allowing for near instant communication with other individuals regardless of distance. It was easy enough for us to be asked a question, crowd source a good answer from our millions of brethren across the galaxy and make up near accurate prophecies based on that information.
In a way, we really are gods. The only difference is we can die…eventually, unless we’re killed.
Most world’s we took over were not invaded. They welcomed us with open arms and celebrated us for our wisdom and guidance. Most never considered that they too were connected to the quantum field mentally, and that we could manipulate that field, and by extension, the creatures connected to it.
That said, we are a peaceful people with a special place in our hearts for artists, scholars, and philosophers. We can manipulate our bioluminescent bodies to perform synchronized light displays that mesmerize our audiences…including each other in the case of certain great masters of our tribe such as Etherion and Nebulon.
They’re dead now. Their light was lost to the world.
Three hundred years ago we took over the Earth. The planet’s biosphere was highly diverse and several regions were simply perfect for Zentharians. Most of our common people wanted to stay on Zentaris, the exoplanet we called home. Most of the elites had their own worlds they presided over as gods. But we, the Xantari clan, had nothing but an island nestled in the middle of one of Zentaris’ great oceans.
The planet was overpopulated, and we’d gradually been pushed out of our ancestral forests, until finally we were thrown into the sea, by little more than the slow advance of time.
So we left and scoured the galaxy for a planet full of sentients to rule over, preferably one that had not already been seized by another great clan.
We found your Earth. It was untouched by our people yet perfect for us…we should have paid attention to the age old adage of one of our greatest sages. It roughly translates to crude human speech as, “If you’re late to the party and you find a plate untouched, there’s probably a good reason for it.”
The reason, it turned out, is that we weren’t welcomed as gods. There were already powerful gods on this planet, just not Zentharians. You gave them names like Jesus, Yahweh, Allah, Buddha, Vishnu, The Flying Spaghetti Monster, and The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch. It was weird that they had no forms. They existed only in your hearts and our influence was often rejected violently by those among you who followed these faiths.
I arrived with three hundred members of my clan. By the time we took you over, half were dead. How did we do it?
With difficulty. We soon discovered another religion among you humans. It was hiding in plain sight, but we didn’t see it because it wasn’t centered around the worship of a divine personage. You were deeply offended when we suggested that it was a religion at all. Peculiar.
Amongst ourselves, in a language you can’t understand, we simply referred to it as the Cult of Inclusion. It was extremely influential in the Western hemisphere of this planet where the other religions were noticeably weak. It didn’t take us long to get your support, citing such horrendous crimes as genocide, intolerance, and religious fanaticism. Sprinkle in a bit of quantum manipulation and it wasn’t long before we had an army of you well meaning humans protecting us.
In a way, we became the divine personages of your religion. The embodiment of your inclusive values and rage against those who committed “crimes against humanity” as you called it. A few years later, our movement grew to mythic proportions, with Inclusivites holding nearly seventy-five percent of all government positions, including the so-called “Senate” and near complete control of the “FBI.”
Once we reached a critical mass, it was possible to exclude all non Inclusivites from many government positions. Though we never fully overruled your election process, something even the greatest manipulation of the QF never succeeded in doing, we still had almost complete control of the North American continent by the end of 2200 (your calendar, not ours).
From there it was a simple process of elimination. We started with hate groups. It was relatively easy to identify them. You humans just couldn’t stay off your phones or the internet for whatever reason. The inclusivites mostly didn’t accept a full scale elimination of the hater’s physical presence on this plain of existence, so we took a page from human history and put them in labor camps.
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kkagkcz
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[WP] An automated mining drone returns to earth from its mission after being delayed on it's return home. It was constructed roughly 3 million years ago.
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*Well,* Tanoo thought, *this should be a snap.*
The brightly colored raccoon stood at the entrance to the barracks for Charlie Squad, 1095th Rifle Platoon of the USMC, and sniffed.
She had just started inside when a bayonet dropped into her field of vision, right at the tip of her nose.
"Halt! Identify yourself!" Corporal Helmsley shouted. Tanoo's pupils focused on the muzzle of the M16A3.
"I'm Tanoo! Your! New! GUIDE!" she cried back joyfully before quailing again before the rifle...spear...*whatever* before her face. She *tsk*ed and tapped the bayonet, which turned into a lace-frilled gold baton with a curling haft, topped with a glowing purple gem cut to resemble a hand mirror...with an impact-resistant black plastic grip and a base to fit the rifle's bayonet lug. "Ranger Vanity!"
*"WHATINTHEHELLISTHATNOISECORPORAL?!?"* Sergeant Lewis' voice bellowed, waking the entire squad and cowing both Helmsley and Tanoo into terrified, stiff attention.
"Sergeant! This...animal...just waltzed in!" Helmsley shouted.
"ANDWHYDIDYOULETITWALTZINCORPORAL?" Lewis yelled, doing a damn good impression of GSgt Hartman.
"It sabotaged my bayonet before I could stab it, Sergeant!"
"Present your weapon!" Lewis' voice dropped to a loud shout. The M16 snapped up, with the odd wand where the bayonet should be. "Well now if that ain't the damndest thing...YOU! *WHYDIDYOUSABOTAGETHECORPSPROPERTYRODENT?"*
"Sergeant! I'm here to induct you all into the Star Rangers Cadre!" Tanoo barked.
*"IKNOWWHATYOUREHEREFORRODENTDOYOUTHINKIVENEVERWATCHEDSAILORMOONBEFORE!?!"*
EDIT: [TBC by request!]
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\[Royally Blasted\]
"WHO DARES TO OPPOSE ASH REGENCY!???" Gia screamed at the five uniformed soldiers. They arrived just as she began causing chaos downtown. It was mid-afternoon and most of the people had fled as soon as she announced her presence. But, the five women stood defiantly as black smoke swirled around them.
"We're the Magical Platoon," one of them answered with a smirk. She had sharp, piercing blue eyes, and short-cropped silver hair. "Alpha Squad! Sound off!"
"DUTY'S CALL, AWAKEN ALL!" The five women announced in unison; and released an explosion of colorful smoke. After the smoke cleared, they all stood in different uniforms.
"PRIVATE GALE SWIFTWIND!" She had spiky blonde hair and wore forest green slacks. Crisp gold vertical lines ran down each side of her legs and complimented the golden epaulettes on her white top.
"CORPORAL AQUA RIVERS!" Her blue hair was tied back in a neat bun. Her slacks were aqua blue, but otherwise matched the rest of the team.
"SERGEANT TERRA FIRMA!" She had short brown hair with purple slacks. Her uniform fit her a little tighter than the others thanks to her muscular physique.
"LIEUTENANT EMBER BLAZE!" Her red ponytail burst into flames as she introduced herself; her slacks matched the red color in her hair.
"I'm Captain Marina Stormhold. And, in the name of the United States Government; we're gonna slaughter you." Gale Swiftwind launched forward as soon as Marina finished. She moved fast and caught Gia by surprise with a knee to the stomach.
"Ow..," Gia doubled over; but, she recovered quickly. Gale moved behind her, then hooked her arm around Gia to put her in a chokehold.
"You're new, aren't you?" Gia managed to eek out the question; then, she ignited into a roaring bonfire.
"AAHGGH1" Gale let go and fell back stumbling. Her eyes got too much heat and light and she had trouble seeing. Then, the ground started shaking beneath Gia. Terra was kneeling with her hands touching the ground as a crack in the street spidered toward Gia.
"Well now you're just destroying things for no reason," Gia giggled as a pair of flaming wings took shape behind her and she hovered up into the air. She glanced over to Aqua, her main concern, and the Magical Soldier was in a prone position aiming an enchanted blue rifle.
"Quit pointing, it's rude," Gia giggled and made a dismissive gesture with her hand and a storm of fireballs rained down on Aqua; but, none of them struck. As the fireballs fell, they changed direction and flew toward Ember. She collected the flames in her hand, and dispersed them.
"Fine, I guess I need to - ow," Gia flinched as a rock grazed her cheek.
"Hey, you already had a turn," Gia made a beckoning gesture, and a blaze erupted under Terra as the woman screamed.
"But... you haven't...,' Gia turned and focused on Marina. The soldier stood next to Aqua as she charged electricity between her hands.
"No one's taking turns," Marina grinned. "We're a team."
"STORMSHOT!" Aqua and Marina announced simultaneously as magical water gathered in front of the rifle. Marina charged the water with electricity and it shot forward at Gia.
"Nice try!" Gia giggled and she burned red hot to dispell it. But, her flames disappeared.
"She did say we were a team," Ember smiled as she stole the Gia's fire.
"NONONONONO! AGGGGUUHGGHH!" The electric ball struck Gia and disintegrated her completely.
"Excellent work, Alpha Squad. Let's get Gale and Terra patched up."
"I'm okay...," Terra said. Had some minor burns; but most of her body was covered with earthen stone.
"I'm so not!" Gale said. She was feeling around the empty air until Ember grabbed her hands and led her into a black portal.
"You good for repairs?" Marina asked Terra, and the muscular woman nodded.
"Yes, Ma'am."
"I'll leave you to it," she walked into the portal followed by Aqua, and it closed behind them. Terra surveyed the area to pick a starting point, and something caught her eye. She walked over to the sparkle as she shed the defensive layer. She found a bright blue node in the rubble. It was glassy like the node she already had; but, this one was translucent blue instead of clear. She picked it up and a black crescent moon flashed on the display for a moment. After it faded, a message came in.
\[Hello. Would you like to go on a quest? - Io\]
"Yeah," Terra chuckled and slid the node into her pocket. "Maybe later."
\*\*\* Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #2204 in a row. (Story #030 in year seven.). This story is part of an ongoing saga that takes place in my universe.
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llis8zp
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lliclt8
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[WP] All children under the age of 13 vanishes with only a note left behind that says "Due to humans not caring about the future of their young, all children have been relocated. If you truly love (Name), you will not intervene as we restart your race. -Signed 'The Protectors'"
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My daughter died young. I don't expect you to understand. Who would? No one listened when she was screaming those nine months. Something no child should go through. The judges all said that her life wasn't as important as the one forcefully shoved inside her.
I had to watch her small frame get ripped to shreds as my granddaughter was born. You know what my daughter's last words were to me? 'Keep her safe, Ma, she's a precious gem.'. My little girl could have hated that child, but she didn't have a bad bone in her body.
So I did exactly as my little girl asked. I raised Gem even though the rest of my family disagreed. My husband left, unable to stand the sight of her. I understood, she looked just like our girl, but that didn't stop it hurting any less.
So you see, when I woke to find my precious granddaughter was gone, and you left me this stupid note telling me I'm not going to do right by my daughter's death wish... well, that made me a little upset. You could say, it made me even a little mad.
Now, you're probably wondering 'How did some ol' biddy find our secure channel to broadcast this nonsense?' Oh, I'll get to that.
But first I'm gonna tell you what happened to the man who hurt my baby.
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Jason stood at the podium after he finished reading the note left behind on his son's bed.
"I repeat, 'If you truly love Erik, you will not intervene as we *restart* your race'."
He looked out at the crowd of public officials, gathered politicians, and visiting foreign dignataries.
"You asked some of us to come up here tonight and read the notes we found. You've heard from dozens of us. Some of them were politicians like you. Some were famous entertainers. Some were respected world leaders.
"I may just be a piss ant farmer from Arkansas, so I'll just say what I think. Every time one of these big wigs talked, they were either trying to discuss a political solution or a military solution. I even heard some extremists' views suggesting we just move on because we lack the capabilities to take back our children. They claimed that maybe it was good for the planet and that maybe the aliens were right, that we don't care about the future of our young. Those hate baiters want us to blame ourselves for this situation, to admit defeat and just go out and make more children to replace those we lost."
The more he thought about their words, the angrier he grew. The anger was visceral and threatened to overwhelm his reason.
The audience empathized and looked on with concern as the speaker quaked with his silent rage. But when he spoke again, his voice was calm and composed. In a way, his calmness was even more terrifying than the anger he used to grip the edges of the podium.
"This isn't something you politicize. It isn't something that can be negotiated out. They kidnapped our children. The kidnapped them and plan to use them as breeding stock to start our race over again.
"Fucking think about their words. Their not just taking away our children to rape them. This is about the survival of our race, of our planet."
One of the speakers from before stood up and interrupted him. Jason recognized the man. His name was Lucas Wolf, and he was one of the men who spoke before and suggested everyone just write off what happened and start making babies again to replace those we lost.
He was famous for saying things to anger viewers of his show.
He raised his voice, interrupting Jason.
"People, he is clearly speaking out of emotion. I get it. He's angry. Who wouldn't be angry? We lost our children to an alien race we couldn't hope to compete with.
"I know that many of you didn't like my position on the issue, but what other choice is there. We have no space ships. We can't fly up and take them back. And it's not like they were being taken to Epstein's Island to be molested. All the aliens said was they would keep them to let them restart the human race. How is that them stating they were going to rape them. In my opinion--"
"We already know your opinion. Sit down and shut up. Let the man talk. You have your turn to talk. This isn't you fucking radio show, Lucas. Save this shit for your podcast and your red hat wearing followers."
Jason didn't know the name of the man in the suit who reproached Lucas, but he was thankful for his rescue. If he hadn't stopped the motherfucker from spewing his garbage, Jason had been fully ready and prepared to go down and shut the man up with his fists.
"As I was saying . . ." He shot Lucas a hateful glance. " As I was saying, I'm a farmer, and I understand crops. You can't regrow a field of crops without eradicating the crop that was there before. This is more serious than just our kids being taken. Our kids will live. The question is, will we survive and why do they aliens care whether we care about our children's futures?"
"We know nothing about them. We don't know if their altruistic or if they're predatory. Maybe they want to restart the human race and raise our children as cattle for them feed on, to exploit. Whatever their thinking, I don't think their plans invovle us being around to disapprove or approve of it.
"I don't think--"
Jason stopped and peered at the distant horizon along with the others. They watched as the columns of light several kilometers across stabbed down from the sky.
Everywhere the lights fell, the horizon flared with light and the silhouettes of the buildings and trees disappeared.
Jason just peered at the wall of fire rushing toward him and sadly shook his head.
He hated being right.
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lczveij
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lcz82lo
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[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
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The bell tolls.
The hardest part was the timing.
You had to make sure that you transferred the money on the hour every hour.
I spent days working on the automatic transfer, setting up the plans for the prewritten wills needed for an operation like this.
As for people? It’s kind of crazy what desperate people will do for their families’ future’s to be secured.
The idea is simple. Transfer the wealth of the richest people in the world to a willing subject on the hour every hour. After their death the money is returned and the rich pay off their family and move on.
There were protests, of course there were protests, far fewer than you’d expect though. Well, I guess it’s not really surprising after the first few figureheads dropped dead in front of their followers. A banking error had made them the richest in the world for an unlucky few seconds. “Unlucky”.
……
Thinking back to the first 6 months I feel like everything worked out as you’d expect. Chaos. It was kind of shocking the people who died, seeing the desperate shows of philanthropy to decrease your wealth enough to survive.
But everything has rules and rules can be studied. Having massive wealth gets you killed, but it’s binary, it simply adds assets it has no regard for how any why the “value” was acquired. Some leaders of countries died before realizing this, as did a few CEOs.
Having rules means loopholes and no one is better at using loopholes than the rich.
By pooling their wealth the top 20 or so richest people remaining suddenly had the ability to make anyone they chose the richest person in the world.
They suddenly had the power to kill anyone they wanted without any possible defense.
You can imagine how that went.
That system is automated now, thanks to me.
……
I type my name into the machine.
My phone rings, there has been a deposit to my account.
The bell tolls.
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I've always thought that most of the world's problems could be solved had the richest people just become more philanthropic. No, scratch that, just a *little* more philanthropic. Most people usually overlook just how big a hundred billion dollars are.
What I didn't think of, however, is the possibility that my wish becomes a reality. And at that, the wish being pushed to a rather extreme measure.
It all began on an otherwise ordinary Sunday. News outlets, social media pages, internet articles, newspapers, and every single form of digital and print media all across the globe reported a stunning and, bottom line, very unexpected phenomenon: the richest person on Earth had died, inexplicably, at the stroke of midnight.
And by 1AM, another billionaire, next in line to being titled the wealthiest after the former wealthiest's untimely death, succumbed to the same mysterious fate. Then 2AM, then 3AM— it didn't take long before panic ensued. Social media exploded with theories ranging from conspiracy plots orchestrated by the shadow government to religious pariahs claiming divine retribution. People stayed glued to their screens, watching as the financial elite continued to fall, one after the other, every hour after another.
The United Nations held multiple emergency meetings. Medical experts were baffled, as every single one of them died from an unforeseen stroke, healthy or not. The masses, in shock, watched the unraveling of a historically unprecedented event. The global stock markets were unstable, but largely remained the same because no one yet knew the full extent of what exactly was about to unfold.
**Week 1**
As the deaths continued, the world plunged into an ever deeper uncertainty each passing hour. The wealthy began hiding, but it made no difference— wherever they were, the unavoidable death through stroke found them. Panic spread among the upper echelons of society, and their respective conglomerates and companies crumbled accordingly.
Sneaking in a personal quip, it seemed as if a nuclear war was ongoing. The skies these past few days were littered with private jets— their piercing shrieks giving me sleepless nights. But to ultimately no avail, as death, without fail, always found its way at the doorstep of the filthy rich, one way or another.
The general populace felt a mix of fear and grim fascination. How could this be happening? For the time being, two theories were generally accepted: divine retribution or something completely supernatural.
**Month 1**
By the end of the first month, 720 billionaires had died. The world’s economy started to wobble as companies lost their leaders and heirs and executive boards scrambled to take control over the power vacuums left by the deaths of the wealthy. People began to see the rich as human and vulnerable, rather than untouchable elites. Movements for wealth redistribution gained momentum as the general public started questioning the morality and sustainability of extreme wealth, as repercussions and the fear of being silenced was no longer.
The filthy rich were finally held in scrutiny.
**Year 1**
One year in, 8,760 of the world’s richest people had died. The global economy began to stabilize as wealth was redistributed. Inheritance taxes soared, and new policies were introduced to manage the influx of capital. Some regions experienced economic booms, while others dealt with power struggles over the assets of the deceased.
Empowered by the changes, the masses pushed for systemic reforms. Universal basic income programs were tested in several countries, as fair growth reached new heights as the remaining wealthy tried to secure their legacies through goodwill and societal contributions. I suppose that some of these remaining rich folks caught on and started distributing their wealth under the guise of philanthropy, but in actuality, they just didn't want to be the next in line for "the culling". The culling spared no one, however, as it was still ultimately unavoidable— someone had to die every hour.
**Decades**
Decades later, the world was undoubtedly different. The economic hierarchy had softened, creating a more fluid and dynamic society. The phenomenon, now accepted as a part of life, had changed how people viewed wealth and mortality.
The rich, knowing their time was limited, focused on legacy projects. Some still scrambled to distribute their wealth to avoid being the next in line. But from a global standpoint, collaborations between nations increased as they all simultaneously realized the importance of stability and fair growth. Education, healthcare, and technology saw unprecedented advancements due to the now redistributed wealth.
The world was never really gloomy, but if viewed from the context of the aftermath, perhaps it actually was, indeed gloomy. Most people really did underestimate just how big a hundred billion dollars are, it seems.
😸😸😸😸😸
[My subreddit/portfolio of submissions here! Feel free to check it out if you'd please. I'm open to criticism! 😸](https://www.reddit.com/r/KittenMantra/s/CBBVPkYqAf)
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lczxfg9
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lcza42r
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[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
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I sat out on the porch, looking out at my garden, the richest man in the world.
Nowadays of course, being the richest man came with a very short life expectancy. At least I knew that while my wife and children would be well cared for after my death, they would be significantly less rich than me -- comfortable, but not rich enough for a death sentence.
My garden was badly overgrown. As my cancer had progressed, I just hadn't had the strength to keep up with the children's events, housework and the garden, something had to give.
The deal was good. The doctors said I only have a month to live at most, and it would be a painful experience. The 10 richest people in the world had formed a company, just a place to store 90% of their wealth. Every hour the company was signed over to a new owner. In return for ownership, we have no real power. Once we pass, a small portion of the company's assets are given to our estate, to be passed on to our families. A tiny proportion of so much wealth is still more money that I made in my life up to this point.
It is amazing how life goes on as normal. No-one knows why the world's richest person dies on the hour, every hour, but it only took 24 hours for the world's most expensive lawyers to come up with an air-tight solution -- 24 billionaires died, and now the world carries on the same as ever. Just a few people die a little earlier, and their families get a generous inheritance. Not even enough to actually decrease the wealth of The Company, it turns out you don't need much to bribe people with who don't have a future anyway.
|
How it happens. Why it happens. Who is responsible for it. None of it makes any sense. At first religious fanatics believed it was God, or some diety. Until their leaders started to kick the bucket. The irony of religious leaders who took a vow of poverty to be killed off as the richest person in the world. It actually moved humans away from religion. Now, less than 50 years later, religion is more of a niche fad than anything. Kind of on the same page as Wicca. A novelty that a short number of people take too seriously. Even I honestly didn't think it would go that way. If anything I thought it would strengthen religious movements.
It seems whatever is in control of the fate of humans, we've been deceived by the cleverness of it. It only took a few weeks to figure out this wasn't some massive coincidence, and that the richest person on the planet was being killed off. It was, and still is to some degree, studied at length and none of the theories proved fruitful. It started focusing on humans, believing some human developed the ability to remotely kill someone from anywhere. But even if that were the case, how did they know who was the richest at any given hour? It was easy to figure out when Musk and Bezos dropped dead during a press interview. But as time went on, especially after a year or so, that information became much more obscure. It however did include anything related to personal wealth, such as stocks and reacclimated business profits. It was extremely precise to a terrifying degree.
Never seen so much philanthropy in the first year. Trillions of dollars flooded the market in an attempt to become the least wealthy. After much experimentation, it also took about 30 days to "register" your wealth yet it took nearly a year to unregister it. So if you handed someone a million dollars and they became the wealthiest on the planet, whatever it was acted like they didn't exist for 30 days (or rather their wealth was so low it didnt seem to think it was possible for them to be wealthy). I think this seemed like a way to avoid anyone trying to kill someone off by just transferring a bunch of money to them. Or to avoid getting rid of their wealth right before they kick the bucket which prevented the rich from somehow trying to "unrich" themselves in a short time.
Eventually humans settled into this new reality. For the majority of people it made no difference in their life. They would never be the wealthiest. In time, most of the worlds richest people were gone and a majority of their wealth was either passed on to charity or their family, those who inherited it gave up their wealth. For many years we developed a system to distribute wealth to the terminally ill. For more than a year candidates were chosen to essentially die, but were given practically unlimited wealth to enjoy their remaining days. Of course, they didn't have a choice. It was an enacted law that the terminally ill give up their life for their country. Until that too stopped working. Not only did this result in a nearly civil war, but those who were given this wealth simply gave it up. This led to the discovery by the government that any wealth associated with a business itself was not tied to a single person and could therefore be redistributed equally. This meant that so long as the business didn't allocate those funds to an individual, they were considered void. This allowed humans to subsidize production, Healthcare, and other quality of life aspects. Businesses now offered free homes, food, vehicles, and many other amenities as job compensation.
Eventually, after almost 50 years, we no longer work. Not in the same sense we used to. Businesses exist to provide for our needs, while we in turn seek fulfillment for ourselves. Many choose not to work anymore. Those who do are incentivized and given a great deal of leniency to improve themselves. Reputation is boundless in the eyes of society and those who choose that path are given a great deal of respect, while those who choose a comfortable easy life are not shunned for it, but are not held in a high regard. It's not perfect by any means, but it's a million times better than what we had before. Oh and money doesn't exist anymore. After we abolished currency about 8 years ago, not a single person has died as a result of wealth. Since nobody is considered wealthier than someone else. At least not in a monetary sense. Now wealth is more about fulfillment and happiness. Contributing to society is our currency and the respect and reputation one receives is our payment. The result of this is being able to "afford" luxurious lifestyles. The best food, homes, vacations, etc.
And it's all thanks to some unknown force we may never know.
Hey Siri...
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lczxfg9
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lczi8rp
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[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
I sat out on the porch, looking out at my garden, the richest man in the world.
Nowadays of course, being the richest man came with a very short life expectancy. At least I knew that while my wife and children would be well cared for after my death, they would be significantly less rich than me -- comfortable, but not rich enough for a death sentence.
My garden was badly overgrown. As my cancer had progressed, I just hadn't had the strength to keep up with the children's events, housework and the garden, something had to give.
The deal was good. The doctors said I only have a month to live at most, and it would be a painful experience. The 10 richest people in the world had formed a company, just a place to store 90% of their wealth. Every hour the company was signed over to a new owner. In return for ownership, we have no real power. Once we pass, a small portion of the company's assets are given to our estate, to be passed on to our families. A tiny proportion of so much wealth is still more money that I made in my life up to this point.
It is amazing how life goes on as normal. No-one knows why the world's richest person dies on the hour, every hour, but it only took 24 hours for the world's most expensive lawyers to come up with an air-tight solution -- 24 billionaires died, and now the world carries on the same as ever. Just a few people die a little earlier, and their families get a generous inheritance. Not even enough to actually decrease the wealth of The Company, it turns out you don't need much to bribe people with who don't have a future anyway.
|
Nobody knew why or how it started, just that when the clock struck midnight on that faithful day, the richest man in the world died. Just as media companies were rushing to get the news out, the next richest person fell dead in the next hour.
The internet was abuzz with conspiracy theories faster than the fifth person to drop dead. All over the world, governments and conglomerates held emergency meetings to pool together what they knew of the phenomenon. The best doctors couldn't determine the cause of death, they simply stopped breathing without any other signs.
The masses watched the news with mixed feelings. Some thought this would be a great thing. Others were concerned of the economic repercussions. A handful wondered how long this would continue.
The elite rich were transferring their wealth to others. Not out of charity, but self-preservation. Some tried to create clandestine bank accounts under different identities. The usual tax evasion tactics now evolved to avoid death by wealth.
Whatever it was that swept across earth, it didn't care for financial wrangling and accounting manipulations. The death toll didn't stop. Every hour without fail, it would claim a life.
Companies would eventually collapse without all of their top brass alive. The economy in shambles. Even as wealth truly began to trickle down towards the downtrodden masses, there was always someone richer to be culled by the mysterious death. It didn't care that there were plenty of wealth lying around with no owner.
A handful of people proposed sharing wealth such that there was a tie. Assets and cash had to be distributed in such a way that two people could have the exact amount of wealth. That's assuming this "Death of Wealth" phenomenon calculated wealth the same way humans did.
The first few people to make that equal distribution of wealth died before the balancing could be complete. It was the next seven deaths did it occur that there were...other factors it probably looked at besides cash and assets. Did it count family, happiness, health and other kinds of non-monetary wealth?
A year after 8760 people died, still nobody figured out how the richest person was derived if there was a tie. It wasn't age, or country of birth, or gender. Perhaps it was going to be a mystery to the very end. Monopolies are dead; only smaller companies remained, for anyone who accumulated too much wealth would die.
These firms shrunk as owners either died or gave away their fortunes to stay alive. Consumerism is falling. No longer did people pursue great wealth, now everyone just wanted to live for as long as they could. As the overall circulation of money grew smaller, so did people began resorting to burning literal cash. Banks went bankrupt during a mass panic withdrawal of money to burn. Electronic records of a person's riches gradually vanished as humans chose to simply keep cash. Makes it easier to count and track how much wealth you had, and to shred it if one feared being too rich to live. You could carry cash and walk in a dark alleyway and nobody would bat an eyelid.
Robberies aren't a thing anymore. Nobody would be taking money from another in a world trying to get rid of money. The children could come out to play. Hang out late at night. Revelers and party-goers could get drunk and not be robbed blind. Who would hurt them? Nobody would decrease another's fortune and save their position in what is now known as the "List of Wealthy Persons to Die".
One smart guy suggested to fall back to a barter system rather than utilize currency. Perhaps that way, without a measurement of wealth, the deaths would stop. Considering the assets people held - properties, cars and other valuables, it was not to be. There was always someone who had one more property. One more car. An extra bag of rice, or one more cow than the next farmer.
Death comes slowly for humanity as a whole. There are billions of humans on the planet, and just 8760 people dying from this mysterious thing. But death comes for all eventually. It is patient. It has all the time in the world. Even as nature began to recover from humanity's dwindling fortunes, the birth rate was one of those things that never bounced back.
They say there are two things inevitable in life - taxes and death.
In a world that has eliminated currency, yet still struggled to completely eliminate wealth and worldly possessions, death's clock is always ticking every hour. One hour, one death. No exceptions. No preventions. Only death.
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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kr4682d
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kr455dw
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[WP] You are a poor child going to a popular magic school at your mentors insistence, telling you to "broaden your horizon." But when you get there you realise everyone is doing magic differently to what your mentor taught. They use silly chants and carry big ugly books around.
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My master always said he had no time for "useless spot-on-the-wall magic." He was old. Very old. And, as best as I could tell, I must have been his one and only apprentice. Ever. My parents - they never wanted a son anyway - learned of this mad old hermit in the hills and convinced him to take their son in exchange for 100 gold crowns. Needed the coin they said. House needs repairs, and my brother was off to the military to fight in the East. The old man, cantankerous though he was, agreed to their terms and so I was his. I thought I'd spend my days shoveling the corral, or scrubbing dishes, and the Old Man let my parents leave thinking as much, but then he got this wily look in his eye.
Stand to, boy - The old man rumbled once they were beyond sight. Let's have a look at you. Tall, yes, even for one so young. Look me in the eye boy, I need to know if you've got the strength in you. Do as I say now, or you'll find yourself scrubbing the chamberpot till dawn. The old man stared into my eyes for a few moments, and a strange sensation took over me. Then he grinned again, and told me that I was his apprentice now, and that I must do as he says. He told me he'd pass on all he knew, for he was old and not long for this world, and that the knowledge he carried must outlive him.
And so began my training. What my parents didn't know, in fact what hardly anyone alive knew was that this old man had once been the chief battle mage to the last king, and had almost prevented the prince from usurping the throne. As such, the now king had a price on the Old Man's head large enough that anyone who learned of him wouldn't hesitate to sell him out. And I was now his apprentice. I had seen the wizards at the academy a few times, all of them with their decorated robes, with large wooden staffs and always lugging around some big ugly book, muttering some sing-songy chant. I'd seen it a hundred times, and that's what I'd known magic to be. Oh, they could manage to get the book to float in front of them, some of them, given enough time could make water come out of the ground, or make objects around them bend into interesting shapes. Stuff my master would always call "spot on the wall" magic, and seeing it always sent him into the foulest mood, ranting and raving about wasted potential and those empty headed buffoons running the academy.
That's not at all the kind of magic my master taught me. He told me, I needed to learn battle magic. The power of fire and ice. The power to call lightning from my fingertips. He also taught me alchemy, and metalworking. Told me I needed to learn how things worked and why. It wasn't enough to learn how to hammer a chunk of iron into a sword, I had to learn why the sword needed to be iron. Had to learn why the sword was better after being worked in the fire instead of carved out of the iron. Had to learn about different kinds of plants, and which ones can heal. Which ones can poison. And, for a long time, I hated him for it. His was a cruel tutelage, and I longed for the academy. Convinced they knew better than this madman in his shack in the hills. Finally, having heard enough of my whining, the old man told me he'd send me off to the academy, if only to show me how wrong I was.
And so it was. I arrived at the beginning of the study year, placed into a group of those at a similar age to me. The instructor, a portly fellow with hair just starting to grey requested I demonstrate a simple working, that of making mage light. Now, most of the students had not yet earned a staff, (I had learned during my orientation that the staff was only for older, more advanced students.) and so they had these wants, each about half as long as an arm, and about as thick as a finger, and most of them had various symbols carved into them. The instructor told me to get out my want and turn my grimoire to so-and-so page and the instructions would show me how to make the mage light. Before he could finish saying that, I had a ball of fire the size of my fist burning an arm span over my head, burning silently and steadily with a brilliant red orange glow. My master had taught me without the limitation of a book or want or staff, and I was only ever allowed to work my magic silently. I also did it in a fraction of the time other students needed. The portly instructor just sat there, jaw agape for a full moment before coming to his senses and telling me I could stop. The instructor then demanded to know how I had learned to do such a thing. Who had taught me. All I could answer was that my master forbid me from speaking of him to anyone without his permission, and that he hadn't given me permission.
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Hardwood chairs and ink stained desks. Bare walls and a chalkdusted slate. Everything an eleven year old mind needed to disengage and sleep through even the most fantastical of leassons. Master Fumbletongue would have torn his beard out, his classroom has been the deep woods, where the song of the world was deafening. Where there was alowas something large and scaly keeping an eye on you, a venomous mouth waiting in the underbrush, and cooper ants carrying your things away when you weren't mindful.
His teaching meathod was hardly teaching. Only alloweing learning to the extent of my natural curiosity. He would show me something marvelious, a potion or a spell. And he would answer any question I could think of. He told me thinking in questions was how magic was done.
Sometimes I would ask a question he didn't know, and I would see his old eyes light up. And we would stop everything to discover the answer. Why do you need toad music to make everglue? What happens when two fireballs hit eachother. Why don't slowfall-shoes slow your feet when you run?
The question matters more than the answer.
\-
A shadow in a grey cloak loomed into the room. He stalked unpleasantly towards the dias. He stooped like a vulture and leered like a tomcat. He dressed like a headsman on holiday. But looks are only looks and he spoke quite warmly "Students, if you can indeed be called that. I congradulate you on finding the classroom first try. Last year's batch had to be tracked with bloodhounds." he paused for laughter, the tension on the room abaited.
"Everyone get out your Arcanabula. We'll beguin with the four basic elements. Their prefix, noun form, verb, and suffix. You must know thise, there is a world of diference between Ignisra, and Igniska". The other students took out large blank books, I didn't have one. They cost two Gleams and I had only three shines to live off of for the term.
"Now, let's get too it. This class shall deal with the four prime elements, the four counter elements, the eight corrupted and purified elemental forces. And light and dark energies." He picked up a large piece of chalk. "Don't worry, you'll know all this by week's end. There's a song you can memorize" He smiled, and donned large spectacles that made him look more like an owl than a vulture.
He got to drawing up a fearsome diagram across the slate. He used his sleeve to polish away his few mistakes. There was a chorus of cracking spines as new books opened at every desk. They were all blank books, and they were all very costly. I always imagined the words were the expensive part of a book, but shows what I know.
My desk was bare, I couldn't afford a book without words. But I'd never needed one before. And I wasn't going to ask my family for more money than they could spare. which was about two shines a term. It was pleanty if your favourite meal was bread and rainwater. Anways I wasn't going to forget anything important.
\-
I was very wrong. By the end of the leasson every other student has an intricate copy of his diagram and I was still trying to make sense of it. He had explained it all to a nicety. But something was wrong. I was confused as I never had been before. Nobody was asking questions!
My head swam with them. But the instructor never paused, he told us how it was done and that was cheating! You don't tell them exactly how it works. I was lost until a miracle happned, Gildane Briarborn had to use the bathroom. Truely the princess of Swartrosse was an angel beyond compare. For she showed me the ritual I needed.
You had to raise your hand to ask a question! And I did, because my head was swimming with them "Why do we gotta to raise our hand to ask you stuff" seemed like a good first question. "So I can address your question without being interupted, and thus you can ask me without having to talk over me" said the wizned old wizard. Good answer, I like that Answer. I raised my hand again.
He took a second to see my hand was still raised "Yes brightmind" he said "What's a noun and suffix, and what's an element, why is there diagrams and linking words? and what-" I was stopped as he raised his hand, wow! Was he about to ask me a question? Even Fumbletongue never did that.
"One at a time my boy, we have all year. It seems to me sonny, that you've learned wild magic! very folksy but not bery useful. Every town has a sky-charmer or a wood-whisper. That's not real magic, it's more like the simple magic of enchanted animals. We'll shake you free of all those superstitous habits you learned in the valley." the other students laughed at me, it felt bad.
The instructor stopped them, he even praised the simple folk of my village for keeping traditional magic alive. But I was afraid to ask my questions. When I tried my hand felt like lead. Animal magic? Fumbletongue would have been heartbroken. I mean in all fairness he had four legs and a horn, but calling him an animal was over the line.
I was given some loose partchment and a charcoal pencil to work with. It was pretty messy compared to the other students fine inks. I felt their eyes on me, why was I even here. It was obvious I wasn't smart enough to learn real magic
\-
Why aren't I smart enough to learn real magic? You have to question everything, that must still be true. Maybe I'm too dumb, but I remember stuff really good, and I know numbers and letters really good. Maybe real magic is just for nobles? Is everyone here but me a noble? They're from rich families. Maybe helping with the farm made me bad at magic?
It didn't make sense. I asked the instructors and they told me I just had to focus like the other children.
The first test came at the end of the first week. Lighting a candle, everyone looked pretty confidant. We had until a funny shaped little glass ran out of sand. And if our candle wasn't lit... well they probably just told you how again. But I really didn't want that. I wanted to do it right!
I did my working out on a scrap, others were using their books. Sufflix, noun, verb, adjective, preffix. So it was something like "Unus-lucerna-igniska-theros-ra" That should have been right, I know candle is lucerna. But is the candle the target or the wick? They didn't teach us wick! I was going to have a pile of hot wax.
The others were already chanting. Not all the same chant but I tried to listen for unfamilliar words. Linum? Is that wick? Wait I'll just set my paper alight and use it to light the candle. "Una\~membrana\~igniska\~theros\~ra" I tried to say it as one word, and focus on my paper.
It blackned and smolderd. and shrank with the head. Theros, it was calor! And my doagram was useless, I didn't have more paper to work out the metric balance. And the little sand thing was almost done!
\-
I had to cheat. I neede more time so I needed more sand. And I can make sand. There was a creature in the forest called a Merc. It was a horrid furry thing and it spat sand at you. Hard enough to really hurt. Where did the sand come from? I thought it ate sand and carried it around. But Fumbletongue taught me to question that.
My fingers softly twisted as I reached beyond sight and listened beyond hearing. A Merc didn't know the nown for sand, it didn't know anything. It reached into the locus of the glass and alterd the Allele so that sand simply existed where it had not before. And equal change would also happen to the glass itself, being filled with more sand also made it a little larger and the air-pressure within dropped.
It was messy work, Fumbletongue would have told me to find a Allele pairing that didn't mutate the glass. With a bit more time I redid my canter-work. Mine was the last candle lit, but it was lit! Bright and golden. The smell of beeswax was so sweet it made me giddy.
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j5txh7o
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j5trvd9
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[WP] The world was forever changed when it awoke to find Iceland completely empty, save for the message "Iceland Player has Left The Game" posted on a small signpost in the exact centre of the country.
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”Saemingr was losing anyway,” said Odin, cheeks flushed red. “So I think it’s fine he quit.”
”There’s quitting,” said Jupiter, “and then there’s rage-quitting. He’s a little baby, is what he is. One trade deal doesn’t go his way and boo hoo hoo. He’s lucky I don’t devour him.“
”I think it’s fine,” Odin repeated. In truth he was a little defensive, for he had donated one of his lands so that the demi-god could join the game late. *Should have demi-trusted him,* Odin thought. What kind of person rage-quits?
Tezcatlipoca took a handful of Cheetos from the bowl on the table and stuffed them in his mouth. Then he glanced at his screen. Only five decades of in-game time had passed since the quitter had quit, but already there looked to be trouble brewing on Earth map. “Uh oh.”
“Uh oh?” asked Elohim. “What do you mean *uh oh*?“
Tezcatlipoca tapped his monitor with a sticky finger. “Looks like Iceland’s back. See? Wealth rising, population rising…“
”Great,” said Hathor, rolling her eyes. “Who set the fucking game up? A.I. players take over if we quit? Really?”
Odin’s face was cherry-bright as all eyes fell on him. “What!? It’s classic Scandanavian rules. It’s classic.”
”Bullshit. You just forgot to change the settings.”
”Well… So what if I did? There’s nothing wrong with A.I. taking over for Saemingr. If anything, it’s good. The great kingdom of Iceland keeps marching forward. Islandi til dýrðar!”
“This isn’t fair,” said Dionysus, slamming down his wine goblet. ”This isn’t fair at all!”
”Oh dear,” said Odin with a grimace.
Greece had been elimated. It had only taken the A.I. a century to advance to super-nuke tech. One good rocket…
”Okay, listen, we need to team up and take out the A.I., before it takes us all out,” said Tengri as he watched the map, his brow sweating. The fallout from the nuke was breezing ever so near to Turkey. Uncomfortably near.
What choice did they have other than to team up? Iceland had now unlocked unlimited food and energy and had replaced its workforce with complex animatronics. Now the A.I. villagers lazed most of the day, and the jealously spreading throughout the rest of the globe was threatening to bring about revolutions.
Ataensic, Woden, Shangdi, and Dazbog agreed to a tactical joint nuclear strike.
The missiles flew.
And were promptly struck down by lasers from the Icelandic advanced satellite system.
“To hell with it all,” said Elohim.
The devil, not invited to play but watching from the doorway, let out a loud cackle, before leaving the room and returning to his PS5. He preferred Black Ops Cold War anyway.
One by one the gods quit their game, eventually leaving only A.Is to battle it out.
“Sorry,” said Odin as the others filed out of the basement. “Sorry.” It had been a long game and he’d kind of accidentally ruined it, sort of. “Real sorry. Same time next millennium?”
As Iceland stormed to global victory, Odin raided the table for the abandoned Cheetos, wine, and weed.
Silver linings, he thought.
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# Player: Forrest Has Resigned
Forrest leaned back, faintly satisfied, as the fire flickered into life. He’d been thinking of his grandfather today, had built the fire to last the way the old man had told him, with the teepee laid into a divot in the earth, logs arrayed around it like a star so that they’d fall deeper as they burned.
He wondered what his grandfather think of him now. Of the world.
Forrest chuckled, but it was a sad sound, a little hollow, a little high, stripping away whatever faint satisfaction he had felt. It was the anxious, skirling laughter of a man who’s been alone too long, and knows that this won’t change, not for years and years, if ever. Boxer heard him. The dog grumbled for a few long moments before heaving himself up and lumbering around the fire to lay a floppy ear against his master’s thigh. The sheep were a softly bleating chorus all around them. Dirty, foul smelling creatures that you had to chase all day through these tumbledown hills.
Forrest laid back in the grass and watched the sun go down. He was somewhere in what used to be West Virginia, maybe two hundred miles south of Pittsburgh, where he’d lived before the city pulled up stakes in ‘23.
The strangest year. First Iceland, then a scattering of islands in the South Pacific, then on into the ancient principalities of Europe, places that you read about in history books, fighting against Napoleon. The Earth had pulled apart along the deep seams of its loyalties.
And America? The United States, which he’d always so proud of? They’d learned that there weren’t any common loyalties at all. What had that sign said in Iceland? *Player: Iceland Has Resigned*? America had pulled itself apart by the city and the town, along the seams of red-lined neighborhoods, and the deep fault lines of the church. In some places tree roots were already encroaching on the roads. There were coyotes in the cities. Wolves. The South was swallowed up by kudzu.
And Forrest was alone with his sheep, a nation of one, unless you counted Boxer. Sometimes he did. Sometimes he had to.
He stared into the fire and let the night roll on. He held the weathered handle of his hatchet against calloused hands. Stropped his knife against a piece of leather. Ate the same dinner that he always did: a bit of jerky and a few scavenged roots. There were berries in the summer, but summer was a long way off.
It was impossible, at night, not to wonder where all those people go.
Before he left Pittsburgh, Forrest had spent weeks glued to the television screen watching the world come apart. The talking heads disappeared one by one. Atlanta went dark. L.A. Eventually all he’d had left was a local station, a tired weather girl still holding down the show because everyone else had resigned. Gone out. Unplugged. Whatever euphemism you wanted to use.
She had said, and Forrest had wanted to believe her, that none of this was a simulation. All the game theories were wrong. God was simply testing their faith. You had to cling to the world he had made. Resignation was not like the Matrix, pulling out of virtual falsehoods and stepping into the light of reality. Instead, it was a sin. Refutation of the gifts that He had offered.
Her eyes, when she said that, had been so wide.
And then she was just gone.
It was possible she hadn’t known. Looking into the fire, Forrest thought that no one did. He scratched Boxer’s ears, and when one of the sheep came closer he pulled at its matted wool the way they liked. Heard soft, faintly satisfied bleating. Heard himself mumbling, a human voice trying to convince him that this world, this dog, this sheep, were worth fighting for, whether they were real or imaginary, made of light and mathematics, earth, and stone, and trees, a creator's whims.
Then he heard nothing at all. Just the stillness of a night somewhere in West Virginia, after everyone else had pulled up stakes.
The wolves had come.
They began as eye shine on the edges of the fire. The sheep huddled closer, and Boxer growled. They were very large. Larger than the dog. A scent of death and musk. Forrest lifted his hatchet. Pulled a burning log out of the fire.
“Is it you?” he shouted. “Did you do this?”
A wolf howled. Boxer snarled. Forrest strained against the gathered darkness, trying to see, trying to hear. He remembered the terrified young weather girl, trying her best to keep the last show going. He remembered his grandfather teaching him how to build a fire. You stacked the kindling just so, with a shocking gentleness unique to gnarled, calloused hands.
On came the wolves! Sheep vanished from the edges of the fire. Boxer screamed, tangled around a shape twice again his size. Teeth flashing in the night as the terrified dog *tried.*
Forrest went down beneath them, the hatchet falling from his hand. He’d turned thirty sometime in the past year. His face had hollowed out since leaving home. His eyes. His laugh had changed. He’d learned how to survive.
He’d wanted to survive. Even as a nation of one.
A revelation.
\*\*\*
He woke in a vast, seamless room, and at first he thought that it was white. But no, it was not white, but the color of absence. A refutation of color. And Forrest—what had been Forrest—knew that he was the same. He saw himself from above, below, behind, all angles. He was faceless, sexless, featureless, the last vestiges of identity draining away.
He—it—whatever this creature was becoming—looked out across waiting billions, and knew that here were all the souls of the world.
There was no sun or moon. The creature that was Forrest looked up, and saw that the heavens held only stars, a vast panoply, and that the stars were winking out with each passing second, like the universe was counting down.
And Forrest, whatever he, she it, they were becoming, knew that all of this would happen again. Knew it, in the same way that he, she, it, they, knew the sound of its own laughter. Terrified. Resigned.
Then Forrest was no more, and the room was seamless once again.
r/TurningtoWords
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kdkqdl7
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kdko5ig
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[WP] One day, magically, everyone across the world was given a superpower of their choice. Now, 5 years later, it seems your unconventional choice is paying off far more in life than your flying, super strong and mind reading friends.
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While certain powers are often connected to certain mental issues, there are often various "takes" made on the most common powers. Leading to various different problems when they go off the rails. That's where I come in.
Take flight and speed for an example. An overwhelmingly large percentage of Speedsters and Flyers showed escapism tendencies pre-Empowerment, but there is also a good 22% that were thrill seekers.
When the first group goes bad, they tend to become perennial abandoners. Leaving houses, families, businesses, and debts behind them for the wide blue yonder. A Global Identity system, really good therapists, and various debt reforms eventually sorted those guys out.
The second group is more trouble overall. They tend to start pranking, breaking and entering, bank robbery, trying to pants politicians. That problem took inventing and selling a cheap molecular-thin razor wire to various governments and corporations.
The stuff rips harmlessly like wet tissue paper if a person hits it at normal speed. It's not so harmless if you're travelling at Mach 1. Then it's all TV shows and a good mop to get the message across. Eventually the smarter ones caught on and slowed down.
The various Invisible Men and Women, nearly to the last one of them, are Vouyers, Stalkers and Creeps. They terrified women and families with children for all of seven months, until we collectively realised that not one of the pervy idiots ever imagined Super Silence as part of their power set. Or the ability to turn clothing invisible. Or a resistance to wind chill, sun burn, various prickles, paints, chemical sprays or Lego.
And every family has someone with a defensive or offensive Super Power now. We just send out community announcements when a Super Perv moves into an area, declare an Open Season on anyone using Powers to invade privacy, and things usually sort themselves out pretty quickly.
Then there's Super Strength. These tend to split into three broad groups, each with their unique issues.
First, you get the "Hulks". People who got Super Strength because they constantly fantasized violently before the Empowerment. Absolutely nothing about their power actually affects their mental state, no matter what some of them tried to get people to believe. They're just assholes.
Once they became capable of lifting a car, they invariably started throwing them. Turns out very few of them had enough foresight to imagine their power coming with Super Resistance. Especially against snipers. As a group, they pretty much became extinct in 4 years. Almost nobody misses them.
Then there's the "Shields". Most started with a strong motivation to protect their families, communities and selves. For a while, they did a lot of good. But eventually a good 90% of them felt undervalued by society and started acting out.
Some of them _were_ treated pretty shabbily, but the majority just got an over-inflated ego. Or frightened away the very people that they were trying to protect. And/or fell into undiagnosed depression.
Sadly, this group _did_ invariably imagine Super Resistant as part of their power, so pharmaceutical methods had to be used. There are entire hospital wards dedicated to keeping the worst of this group under. The rest were given medical prescriptions for Mary-Jane and other various uppers and downers.
Finally there are the Bunyans. People who imagined using Super Strength constructively and non-violently. These are my favourite group. Talk about Super Chill. Basically all that was needed were setting up safe spaces for them, where other people _couldn't_ get close enough to try to bait the famously unflappable. Or rather, the _nearly_ unflappable. It was this or accepting the occasional body flung across whole city blocks when someone invariably pushes their luck.
So you see, it's not just about the power set we have to deal with, but also the motivations behind why _that_ power.
What's my Power? I'm a Trouble Shooter and I'm very much in demand. Nothing I like more than being given a difficult problem to solve, and coming up with an elegant solution. For the right money, that is.
Now if you excuse me, there's a Gravity Manipulator tearing up Florida and I have to put my thinking hat on. The first problem I have to solve is, "Is this actually a problem?"
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One day, everyone heard a voice in their head. “Choose a superpower”, it said. I chose the power to make a friend. As a twelve-year-old boy, I didn’t make the best choice. I imagined a dog. There, before me, appeared a green anthropomorphic border collie that sat and smiled at me. “Wanna catch butterflies with me?”, he asked, pulling a net out of nowhere. “Uh, no thanks.” “Okay. I’ll go on my own.” With that, he ran out the front door. Hours passed. I got worried.
Weeks went by. Then, months. Months became years. It’s been five years. I sat in my bed and cried. Suddenly, a green portal opened up. From out of it popped the dog. When he saw me, his face lit up with delight. “It's you!”, he shouted. His face went to worry. “What’s wrong?”, he asked. “My girlfriend passed away.” “I’m sorry to hear that.” He jumped onto the bed and sat next to me. “It’s gonna be alright. You have a great life ahead of you…especially if you have me.” I actually felt comforted. “So, what happened to you?”, I asked him. “I accidentally summoned a portal. I spun around in space for a few before I ended up here.” “Hmm…oh, I never told you my name. I’m Mark.” “What’s my name?” I thought. “I’ll call you Joe.”
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ksx55mi
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ksx0616
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[WP] Unlike most magical schools, this one is made up of five mystical towers that directly teach themselves without the need for professors. Every year, the towers of the God-Blessed, Druids, Arcanists, and Warlocks welcome new students, but even the name of the Fifth Tower was forgotten.
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The bustle of other nervous potential students filled the air around me. The crowd had been growing for the last four days as we waited outside the front gates of Evergarde. Admissions day was held once a year on the spring solstice and no one wanted to miss out on a chance at learning magic. The imposing Towers that made the school famous began to cast a shadow over us as the sun dipped behind the massive structures. A small shiver climbed my spin, either from the buzz of magic or the sudden chill.
The old fashioned portcullis shuddered and began its upward climb, allowing access to the interior. I stood taller than most in the crowd and was able to see some overly eager students roll and crawl under the rising gate. I wanted to scoff at their impatience, but I wasn't certain I wouldn't do the same if I had been at the front of the crowd. After several minutes the crowd began to begin moving in earnest as the gate cleared chest height.
I went with the flow of the students and got swept over the mossy cobblestone over the bridge and into the interior courtyard. I felt my tear glands bristle and leak a little, a minor inconvenience associated with admission as the old magyk permeated my eyes. The nervous energy was changing, with sounds of excitement and disappointment rising from students around me.
Evergarde was different from the other magical schools on the continent like Ellsylvia and Rikman. This school didn't have any entrance exams and was considered the easiest to enter. There were no exact numbers due to a lack of record keeping, but its estimated that hundreds of students joined each year. The other school's looked down on Evergarde trainees because of this, because there was no restriction to just nobles, the rich or the literate.
Evergarde was also different in the fact that there was no teachers. There were no educators, no administrators and no servants. The school existed as a monolith to education, not being restricted by human counterparts. The entire institute was operated and maintained by the ancient magic of the Forgone Council from centuries ago.
I looked around the courtyard. The towers were arranged in the shape of a pentagram, built close enough to choke out the sun trying to stream into the courtyard. Each of the towers displayed an empty doorframe facing the courtyard, taller than two-men high and just as wide.
The tower of Druid Arts held a greenish brown shimmer over the entrance. I gazed up the tower and saw that the shimmer covered up to the fifth floor, better than I could have hoped for. The God-Blessed and Warlock towers held a faint gray glow over their doors, telling me I had no aptitude to enter and climb. The Arcane tower held a faint purple and gold glimmer, but it only rose to the second level. Above average but not great. I was weighing my options in my head for the distant future on whether I should push myself to the best of my ability and reach the fifth level in druid arts or if it would be more practical to reach a moderate mastery and shift to the arcane tower for a diversity of skills.
Unlike the other schools, at Evergarde there was no official graduation. You started on the first level to learn the basics and once the tower assessed you as ready, you could climb to the next level. You were free to leave whenever you wanted and were free to learn up to whatever levels you were capable of in as many towers as you could.
Around me I watched as students began to head towards their permissible towers. Some walked through the gateways with ease while others were in denial about not being picked and were repelled by an unseen force. Some of the town gossips estimated that only a third of people could even enter one of the towers and by watching the crowd I figured the number was roughly accurate. I watched a small group go to all five of the towers, bouncing off each of the gates before heading back out of the courtyard with their heads hung low.
The fifth tower. The fifth tower? What was the fifth tower? It was at the northern point of the courtyard. The tower stood as imposing as the rest, but no one seemed to be entering it. I went towards a wall that connected two of the towers and took a squat. I watched the crowds funnel either into a tower or back out of the courtyard. A constant flow of people made their way in, creating some disturbances as the embarrassed rejects forced their way out.
I sat and watched that fifth tower. There were a few in the crowd that I watched slowly walk over and enter, but it wasn't even a percent of a fraction of the number entering the other towers.
I asked several people nearby which art was in the fifth tower, but none new. Most didn't pay it any attention and looked confused while a few others just shrugged. I felt a gnawing sensation within my gut, discontent with the mystery. The shimmer wasn't helping. I saw three different hues wrapping around the tower; White to the fourth, orange to the third and an impossibly saturated color similar to pink spanned up to the eight level. No one got to the eight level, let alone the seventh. The towers each held ten floors, but most thought of the top five as just decoration. You could count on one hand the number of trainees from each tower that had mastered the fifth level, each considered grandmasters that stood as giants over the kingdoms. While the other schools looked down on Evergarde for its churning out of low level trainees, they held their tongues and remained mute on the topic of grandmasters that they couldn't compete against.
The colors on the first three floors pulsed and blended and danced together, almost as if they were trying to draw me in. I knew I had been watching the colors more than the crowd by the end of the day, but I didn't remember standing up and approaching it. I just kind of blinked and realized I was standing in front of the doorway with a hand reaching out into the light. Three tendrils of light reached out, tenderly wrapping around my arm as if inviting me inside. The bright pink color and the orange color held a warmth to them, while the white prickled my skin.
Ever since I had set up my mind to come to Evergarde I had hoped for either the Druid or Warlock towers. The boost to harvests would benefit my community, while warlocks were good for defending against raiders. I faltered; Was I going to throw away my chance at being a grandmaster druid, more than I had ever dreamed of? Would I risk it for the unknown?
The tendrils must have sensed my apprehension because they stretched out further, winding their way around my shoulder and neck before touching up to my temples. Glimpses and fragments of information twinkled in a shower across my mind. The specifics were foggy, but I said a silent thank you to the tower of Individual Honors before crossing the threshold into my new home.
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"......why the fuck am I here?"
*Says Veil, gently sighing as the boy would be currently leaning against the wall of the main school. Everyone is currently scrambling or being approached by professors, Veil would be on the shorter end and unlike most people here he isn't a traditional humanoid, he has layers of furr on his body and people would look at him with a look of disgust and whispers, even professors speaking like this as he is a shaggy Black Dog his people being nicknamed the Hounds of Ill Omen(
"They brought a hound into this school, this year isn't going to be well is it"
"He shouldn't be let near the towers, I don't know why the tower masters where incessant in taking him in. Just ignore that bastard hound"
*I sigh as I look around, I'm not going to be selected so I just begin leaving. I was brought here on scholarship so I might as well make myself busy. As I walk through the hall to the library a gentle hand grabs onto my shoulder, I look back and see a taller woman with a big grin on her face*
"Finally, a decent student. What's your named Kiddo"
"V-Veil miss"
"Veil, so your a commoner too. Perfect, bet those pricks from the main towers overlooked you despite them talking of how pure your mana is"
"What do you?"
"Come with me"
*She would be dragging me over practically so I follow, being lead to what is the fifth tower. It looks a lot more homely than I thought, it's built in a tower shape but it's basically a two story cottage with quite the magic radiating off it. A large field around that's well maintained despite the old cobble walls crumbling, she would smack my back and I lurch forward a bit as she speaks*
"Welcome to the Fifth Tower, we may not look like it but we are the strongest here. I'm your new master Anattella, now then. Are you ready to learn the new path of magic you'll embark on?"
"W-what do you mean i-i thought "
"Just cus your a Hound doesn't mean shit kid, they overlook ya and underestimate but I bet the other tower masters are pulling their hair out. You have potential, especially with the magic I'll be teaching ya. Welcome to the Runic Tower"
"Runes....those are the basics of magic where you carve words and they make things happen right"
*She smiles, I then notice she looks more like a muscle bound mercenary with her greatsword. She ruffles my head and I smile a bit. I might finally have a home*
"Your going to go through hell kid, just cus you have talent doesn't mean shit. You ready?"
"Y-yeah!"
"Good, now then let's get to work. Let's figure out what weapons you'd be best with and start learning different languages"
"W-wait I thought I was using magic"
"Runic Magic is based on Language, so learning more languages gives you more variety in spells. A magic missile said in Common is different the one said in Dwarven and so on"
"But what about the weapons, i-im just a mage so"
"So am I, but we are unique. Runecarvers, which is our profession, can carve runes into items as well as the air. Making your weapons stronger, eventually when I deem you talented enough you can carve runes onto your body and perhaps you can achieve the dream of us. The true pinnacle"
"W-whats that"
"Carving runes onto your organs is the next step after your body, but then the true goal is to carve runes on your soul"
"Woah.....that sounds cool"
"Alright then time to work"
*She throws me onto the wide open field, I groan as I stand up. My robes tear revealing my physique as although slender the bits of muscles show too*
"Run"
"I'm sorry?"
"Run, you need a sturdy and stable body before you even think of using weapons"
"Y-yes ma'am"
*I groan, as my first year in hell.....I mean class had begun.*
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lz6ybcb
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lz6wayr
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[WP] "Oh, you didn't actually trick that demon, they let you get away. They let a few people win every generation so the next lot of idiots think they have a chance of making a deal without losing their soul."
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A loud applause rang out through the tavern as Brent finished his story for the fourth time that evening. The crowd always throwing him a few free drinks after it, toasting to the man that beat the wicked demon at his own game. Even if Brent didn’t need the free drinks, he still accepted them, not wanting to waste any of the almost infinite wealth he had collected after besting the demon at a game of cards.
“Yes, thank you. I think that’s the last time I’ll tell this story tonight, unless any lovely ladies would like to hear it again?” He laughed, his cheeks washed by a drunken blush, one as full as his beer gut.
Suddenly, the clapping drifted out until only a single person remained. That person giving slow claps, taunting Brent with their disinterested smacking of palms. Brent wondered how he had lost the crowd. Maybe another drunken brawl? Sure, his story was interesting, but he knew you couldn’t beat a good old fist fight, not with words alone.
“At least you're still,” Brent tensed when he turned on his stool, seeing a red-skinned demon grinning at him. She didn’t wait for an invitation, taking a seat by his side, straightening out her silver dress. Everyone around her remained frozen in time, which is why she had to reach over the bar to get a drink, snatching a bottle of wine from behind the counter.
“I would love to hear that story again.” She smiled, leaning against the counter, her finger idly playing with her single jewel covered horn that sat curved on the side of her forehead. Beside that horn sat a broken stump, one that had been damaged many centuries ago. “I consider myself a lovely lady. Now, how did you beat the demons, oh valiant human?”
“A demon? Why are you here? I won my bet. You have no right to claim my soul. I tricked him and won fairly.”
“Relax. You did win, congratulations.” The way she smiled remained unnerving, as if Alisa had been through a similar conversation before. “Its rare for a human to trick a demon. You must be awfully smart.”
Brent relaxed, returning the smile. “You think so? Maybe demons are just dumber than they look.”
Alisa stopped smiling, putting the bottle to her lips. She drank half of it and sat it down, admiring the purple lipstick mark she had left on it. “Careful. That wasn’t just any demon you beat. It was the king of hell himself, and he won’t take kindly to mockery.”
“The king of? No, it was some imp. What are you talking about? That tiny thing couldn’t be a king. Is this some joke? A way to get back at me for beating your kind. Is it because I’m exposing your secrets to the world? That must be it. You came here to scare me into shutting my mouth. You’re scared that humans will outsmart you.”
Alisa grinned, unable to stay mad at the fool. It was easier to forgive him when she knew his earlier comments would be punished later. “No. Please keep spreading your story. That’s exactly what we want you to do.”
Brent dropped his drink, hearing it splatter by his feet, throwing booze all up his pant leg. “What? What do you mean by that?”
“Every two hundred years or so, the devil comes to Earth and finds one lucky human to bless with a win. You’re that lucky human. Congratulations, you won.” She patted Brent on the back. “How’s it feel to be rich? Does your money feel heavier now that you know it carries the weight of thousands of souls?”
Brent tried to push her hand away, but her nails had already dug into the fabric, keeping him from getting away. “Impossible. I counted the cards. I knew how to win. He couldn’t have tricked me. I tricked him. I taught everyone my trick, too.”
“A trick that will doom them all. The house always wins. Your stories have left this town now. Merchants chatter about a man who beat a demon. Now every poor down on his luck fool whose ever thought. I would give my soul for this and that, will have a reason to attempt it. You’ve doomed so many people.” Her tone was low as she said that, before she released him, downing the remains of her wine with a shrug. “Oh, well. Least you're rich.”
“No. NO. I’ll tell them all the truth. It was a misunderstanding. I’ll reveal what you said to me. I’ll make this right.” Brent panicked as Alisa got up from her stool, heading for the door.
“Too late. The stories bigger than you are. At best, you might sway some people not to try it. At worst, you’ll be killed for spreading such a dangerous tale. Which is why you should carefully consider what you do next. If I were you, I would enjoy my time on this Earth.”
Brent held his forehead, finding at least one small comfort in all of this. One small comfort that would keep him going through such a shocking turn of events. Sensing what was going through his mind, she stopped.
“Oh, you’re thinking. At least I still have my soul. How noble of you. Do you think god will allow a man who gambled with the devil into heaven? I’ll see you soon, buddy. Don’t worry, your punishment won’t be as severe as the others. Maybe one hundred years for mocking the king, nothing too serious. Then you’ll become one of us. After all, you’ve become our biggest unwilling ally. Speaking of allies, maybe he’ll reduce your sentence if you behave yourself?” She opened the tavern door and gave him a wave. “See you soon.” When the door shut, life returned to the tavern.
“OI, WHO STOLE MY BLOODY WINE?” The barkeep groaned, about to blame Brent, only stopping his accusation when he saw the lipstick mark. He grumbled to himself, throwing the bottle away, while Brent remained silent, resting his head against the bar as he thought about what to do next.
With a sigh, he raised his head, putting on a smile. “Alright, who wants to hear the story again?”
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.)
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**Beware of Demonic Deals**
It has come to my recent attention that some townsfolk had been seeking demons to grant their wishes. Entering deals and contracts with such infernal entities. I understand that your friendly neighbourhood eldritch god and local deity Lord Elvari here can be a busy abomination, but that's no reason to jump ship over to demons, genies or the fae.
They have changed their tactics ever since stories of Monkey Paw wishes and cursed wishes have proliferated, especially with the advent of social media. Understanding that a constant stream of dead humans isn't good to lure more into their clutches, they now let you get away occasionally. To walk away with your wish granted. It is only so you may spread the word so more humans may come to them.
Think of it like a skinner box, but worse. If the food box was always poisoned, the birds will learn not to eat from there. If there was always food, the birds grow complacent. Now, if these less than benevolent entities made it random as to who got their wish, who were screwed over, and who walked away with nothing, humans find it...exciting.
Like a lucky draw. If you win, you walk away feeling like a millionaire. Maybe you even think the demon is your friend. It gave you what you wanted with no strings attached. Ah, but that's how it makes you hunger for more. Come back again. This is how they get your soul. And by then, the only thing making the rounds would be your initial success. Not your eventual doom. After all, you wouldn't be around to warn the others.
You ever heard of the story of the dime and the nickel?
There's a small boy who was always surrounded by bigger boys and called dumb, and other rude nicknames just outside an old barber's shop. One day, the barber stepped out to ask the small boy what was going on.
"They'd ask me which was larger," he said. "So, I'd take the nickel."
"That's dumb indeed," the barber remarked. "The dime is bigger."
"But if I took the dime, they'd stop playing the game and giving me free nickels."
And that's how it is. The demons siphoning your soul, bit by bit all while you think they're dumb for getting tricked by you. They're the ones getting the last laugh.
Yes, I've said it myself, dead tourists are bad for business. Thankfully, for all you humans, my business lies in monetary donations, tea and cakes. Not souls. This is why I don't have to resort to such underhanded methods but earnestly grant your wishes. Get your wishes from an entity that is empowered by blessed, living followers, not by stealing your soul. Or in the case of the Fae, by enslaving you and toying with you for as long, or short as they fancy.
Thank you for reading, and stay safe from supernatural scams!
Sincerely,
Your friendly neighbourhood eldritch, Lord Elvari of Innsmouth
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j7tpsee
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j7tnywl
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[WP] You are a villain. An evil mage that wants to usurp the throne and conquer the whole continent. You fought the heroes and won. Apparently, you do a good job in kingdom management and your people have never been happier.
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“We’re in what?” My voice echoed across the room.
“We’re in debt, my liege,” the man said despite his shaking. He was probably afraid of me. Just being in my presence is enough to send anyone into despair. After all, with their heroes slain in front of their eyes, there was no hope of going against me.
“Did the previous king not have entire warehouses of gold and jewelry?”
“Yes, my liege.”
“Why don’t you use those?”
“Ah… those were personal treasures so we really couldn’t—”
“Well, I don’t really couldn’t give a shit, can I?” I said and shook my head. That bastard spent the kingdom’s money for his own treasures. “Are they enough to pay off the debt?”
“Certainly, my liege.”
“Then make it so,” I grumbled and looked over the documents. “The tax is too damn high… and skewed. Lower the tax to 20% until the people can recover.”
The fight with the kingdom’s heroes did take a toll in some parts of the land. Some construction was being done in those places.
“And apply that to the nobles as well. If anyone wishes to complain about it,” I paused and snapped my fingers. A summoning circle appeared behind the official and a headless armor was summoned. Black flames emanated from it. It was very intimidating.
I smirked and continued, “they can tell it to this instead. Bring it with you.”
“Yes, my liege.” The man bowed and walked away. The living black flame armor followed suit.
‘Oh, thank goodness,” the official thought. *‘This summoned knight was as strong as the sword saint. There’s no way the nobles would disagree. Then again, most of the corrupt ones have been executed.’*
“General,” I turned to the former captain of the knights. I killed off all the generals when they opposed me. He was the only one left. He was quite capable too. “Any news of the empire?”
“None, my lord. They are afraid of your power.”
“As they should.” Indeed. That made me feel great. The general was nervous but that was expected. It is impressive he can stand in my presence.
*‘The empire actually wanted to send support to rid the kingdom of the evil sorcerer. But thankfully, my men and I were able to convince them otherwise. We’ll just keep feeding them false information. Soon, the kingdom will recover,’* the General thought.
A herald announced the arrival of an envoy from the Theocracy. Another one of the world's powers.
“Ho? Have you come to negotiate my surrender or charge me for my crimes?”
“My lord, we wish to offer you an allegiance,” the envoy knelt and bowed.
“An allegiance? **AN ALLEGIANCE?!**” I howled. The air became heavy and people felt as if a blade was placed on their necks.
“I-I shall correct myself. The Theocracy will serve under the kingdom.”
“That’s more like it. Now, leave.” I stopped and thought for a bit. “Ah, take this and go. A bit of a reward for knowing your place.”
One of the servants brought a staff. I really didn’t need it. It was a trash staff and the materials were subpar.
“Thank you for your mercy,” the envoy took it and left. *‘The Saint Staff! After all these years, we finally recover it from the clutches of that bastard king. Does he not know its value? No, it simply is not worth his time.’*
“My liege, the offerings have arrived.” A servant announced.
“Good, have them prepared and sent to my chambers.”
I smirked as I sat upon the throne that I took for himself. Beside me, the queen shivered from those words.
“Don’t worry,” I cackled. “You’re still my favorite.”
*‘What a relief,’* she thought. *‘I thought he was going to throw me away. I thought my days were numbered. I was at the age where my husband would look for a younger wife. I would have probably been executed under false charges.’*
“This is definitely it. All the power, the riches, and the women. People serve me lest they lose their heads. Ah, this is all worth it.”
The servant heaved a sigh. *‘The previous king would have killed me for speaking without permission. May those nobles' daughters forgive me for calling them offerings. Then again, they are after his bloodline and powerful magic...*’
There was nothing they could do. I will keep ruling over this place. This kingdom is mine. I made sure to implement some things to deal with the aftermath of the battle. Reparations to the affected locations. Of course, I need to make sure that the citizens working would be paid and fed.
Man, did I really do all this damage? This kingdom was barely standing. Well, whatever. I already prepared for the worst case. I even had a plan if I ended up razing the kingdom to the ground. The people made way for me quite easily. There was barely any resistance.
There were the heroes, some knight squadrons, the king, and some nobles. But aside that, it was easy to take over.
It’s obviously thanks to my power.
“Prepare for a celebration. In three days, we shall have feasts all over the kingdom. Make sure every citizen is fed well,” I got up, grinning at how I’ll show them my power. They will fear and cower under me. “Yes, yes, a couple of dragons should be enough for that. General, prepare some butchers. I will be returning tonight after my hunt.”
“Y-yes, my lord.”
*‘Did he just say he was going to hunt dragons?’ FOR FOOD?!'* The general, the queen, and every servant in the room thought.
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They call me a villain. Why? Because they are ignorant and afraid. Necromancy is a gift to the world. The arcane is but a tool for the worthy to better whatever they please. And black robes adorned with skull imagery? Well that's just plain stylish.
The so-called heroes tried to put up a fight. To protect their precious king. To keep things the same. To keep the people under their thumb, afraid and unquestioning. It wasn't difficult to best them. Believe it or not, it was easy. They ruled mostly out of tradition and image, not true power. Not like me.
My skeletons fight without fear, but not without choice. I bring them back from the dead and offer them the world. A second chance to achieve all of their worldly goals. A second chance at life. A chance that one day their lost family and friends may also rejoin them in continous second life. They beg to help me. To help spread my benevolence. I listen and graciously accept every time.
They tore through the King's Guard in less than an hour. Just boys with sticks compared to a legion of undying passionate soldiers fighting for a cause. The heroes tried casting their own magic back at me, but clearly suffered from never learning about the so called "dark" elements. Their balls of fire and ice just phased through me and got sent to the nether. Once I cast my shadow restraints upon them and banished the king into the nether I offered them a choice to join me or perish. Most joined. Such weak wills they had in the end. The few others will have a chance to reconsider eventually. I always store the remains I collect.
Since then I have taught countless young wizards and witches the art of necromancy so that they may see their loved ones yet again. I taught the people of the arcane. How they can utilize it for their communities. Endless water taps flowing into existence helped irrigate the crops. Nether portals for restrooms ended most of the diaseases not to mention stench of the city. Not to mention the new bussling population of undead who never needed food, sleep, or shelter meant that prosperity all but exuded from the kingdom in mere weeks. The citizens now had the time to pursue their passions loved ones to share it.
The people have never been happier. I am already looking forward to meeting the rest of the cities who think me a villain.
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[WP] as you bring a sample of your crops to the temple of the harvest god, you and everyone nearby suddenly hear a telepathic childlike voice "um, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but your god kind of died..."
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"I accidentally blurted out that their god kinda died!" The small boy fidgeted on a throne far too tall for him. "Do I still follow my script?"
"Keep going, little one," I nudged him to face the shimmering pool of water which reflected the worried looks of farmers in the temple of their harvest god. "Your people bear glorious gifts to you. Introduce yourself, say thank you, and grant them a blessing as a sign of appreciation."
The boy raised his arms and flailed, hoping his massive sleeves would slide down and stop covering his speech letter. This barely readable crumpled piece of paper he had scrawled on personally. With broken crayons and a blend of fruity plant juices. It was all part of his effort to be a good god than one who depended on another to write his script for him.
"Okay, Mr. Elfie, what kind of blessing should I give them?" He gazed upwards to meet my eyes. "Should I go with a crop circle, or the bird sign?"
"Introduce yourself as their new harvest god first," I pointed at what I guessed would be his introduction paragraph on his messy scribbling with a tentacle. "They're waiting to hear from you."
"...Why, hello...humans," he stammered, kicking off vine-woven shoes far too big for his tiny feet. "I'm your new harvest god Dimitri...Thank you for your..."
*"Tribute,"* I whispered into his mind.
"...tribute," he repeated after me. "I will bless you, worshippers...okay, next step, bless...wait, Elvari? So how do I make a crop circle again?"
The collective gasps of the confused farmers echoed in the temple and in the sanctuary where we were projecting to the humans.
*"Dimitri, you didn't turn off your telepathy link to them,"* I mentally chided him. *"They heard that."*
"The child god...he doesn't know how to bless us!"
"Does our god know how to be a god?"
"How old is he? The boy doesn't sound older than ten years old?"
The distressed voices only sank what little confidence the child god had. "Mr. Tentacle...you could talk to them just for today? I'll watch and learn from you. Promise! Please please please?"
I sighed. "An eldritch god of the seas has no business playing harvest god. I could dispense advice, but you have to bless their crops yourself."
"What happens if you try blessing crops?" He asked, boundless curiosity within his green eyes.
"The last time I tried, the grass turned to tentacles that didn't do a very convincing job of pretending to be plants. They swayed too much in the wind."
Dimitri jumped up and down his oversized throne while pouting. "Could you not make everything tentacles?"
"I'm afraid it's in my nature," I shrugged even as a few disgruntled tentacles hissed in his direction. "They'll just have to learn gods aren't omnipotent. We are as flawed as humans can be sometimes. Which is not something most mortals want to believe about their gods. Look on the bright side, you're a newly ascended god. You can use your youth and inexperience as an excuse."
"What is our god doing?" A man with a thick, bushy beard grumbled. "Does the job of harvest god come with an instruction manual?"
"I'm pretty sure they don't get guidebooks like how I don't get one after I gave birth to our son!" His wife shouted at him.
"Do you think our new god has a teacher? Do they attend classes?"
*"Dimitri, you need to say something. Your humans are growing restless."*
"I will draw you a new crop circle!" He declared in a sudden surge of courage. "Your crops shall multiply beyond your dreams!"
With a wave of his hands, the mirrored pool before his throne glowed as he tried to draw a circle. It wasn't perfect; the uneven lines were shaky and jagged. There were disjointed segments and wobbly arcs. But it was a magical crop circle alright.
"Good job, little one. Looks better than my first ritual circle," I gave him a headpat. "My matron said it looked like a dying octopus with goat horns. You'll be a good god growing up."
------------------------
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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"He faded off into inexistentance so i guess you should be happy for him. I'm sorry but this is really awkward for me , I've only been a god for a thousand years. " My jaw dropped , I looked around and said , " so what now? Who do we pray to , who will help us with our plights." The telepathic voice replies'" Well I am supposed to be his successor, but i feel that a whole world is too much responsibility for me so I'll just take care of the capital." " What? What are you talking about! What about the farmlands what about the villages. If you don't help us everyone will die!" I screamed. Suddenly thunder raged, the voice replied" Well I don't like you. They can just deal with it themselves. I'm just a child." " There are millions of people outside of the capital, you're killing them all." I yelled. The thunder worsened," Hey at least I'm taking care of the capital, I could have just left this world alone you ungrateful...." Lightning struck me and i thought "Why did our god have to die and leave this awful being here..."
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[WP] When a new virus unleashes the zombie apocalypse, a necromancer decides to fight fire with fire and raise an undead army of their own.
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“I thought they’d never leave, bro,” says Jesus as he takes a swig of wine from a Nalgene water bottle.
“They were certainly persistent, my dude,” I say as I take a seat on the couch beside him. “Hey pass the Cheetos would ya?”
He tosses the bag of the orange mana from heaven into my lap.
“So who were they? Why were they looking for you?” I ask. “I’ve never had those types give me the third-degree like that before.”
“Oh my dad likes to keep tabs on me,” he replies. “He wants to be sure I’m being productive down here, you know, not wasting my time drinking wine and eating Cheetos,” he says with a wink.
“Come on, man,” I reply. “Be serious.”
“I am, I am,” he says showing his palms for mercy. “Look, it’s really nothing. I just—I don’t like to talk about it. Now can we drop it and just chill, dude?”
“Yeah, ok,” I say. “I get it. My family stuff is weird too. Just know that if you want to talk I’m here for—“
“Ah crap!” He interrupts. “Get down. Now!”
He dives across the couch and covers my body with his just as a bomb goes off in the kitchen.
“What the fuck?” I scream.
“Language!” he yells back. “They found me. We gotta go. Now. Go get your go-bag,” he says as he digs under my couch and pulls out a fully loaded backpack.
“Go-bag?” I reply, “what the hell? Who keeps a go-bag?”
“Someone who’s prepared,” he says as he lifts me to my feet. He roots around under the couch some more and pulls out a flack jacket. He puts the flack jacket on me and tightens the straps snug like a dad would secure a life jacket on a little kid.
“What the hell is happening?” I ask again.
“Would you watch your mouth?” he replies. “There’s no time to explain. We gotta get the heck outta—“
I hear a slam in the kitchen. The back door’s been kicked in. Gun fire erupts and the living room is filled with flying feathers as down pillows explode and the couch is torn to shreds. Thankfully, Jesus knocks me to the ground before I explode like the pillows.
“Crawl!” He commands.
I crawl army style toward the front door. As I approach the entry way I hear a hard knock against the door.
“Shoot,” says Jesus, “they’re trying to bust down the door. Hold on.”
Jesus grabs his Nalgene of wine and readies himself in a crouch before the entry way.
SLAM
SLAM
SLAM
After the third slam the door flies open, three men in white shirts and black ties—the same who had come and inquired after Jesus—burst in with guns drawn.
Jesus unscrews the lid to his Nalgene and throws it onto their pristine white shirts.
“Yeah, that’ll teach them,” I think to myself.
The men scream in agony. Their skin hisses and burns, it melts and begins to slough off onto the tile with a sickening splat.
“What the hell?” I say again.
“Holy water,” says Jesus matter of factly. “Works every time. Let’s go,” he says as he waves me on.
We exit the house and break into a dead sprint. Jesus is quick, nimble on his feet, his gear flies freely in the wind. I sneak a glance at his face and I notice he’s…smiling? He looks like he’s having the time of his life.
We get to the street and I hear a salvo of explosions erupt behind us.
“Don’t look back!” he commands. “Just keep running.”
I hear bullets whizz by my head, I try to shimmy myself downward into my flack jacket—I wish he’d have given me a helmet. Soon the bullets subside and we get about three blocks away. Jesus pauses and looks behind us.
“It’s ok,” he says. He’s notably not out of breath in the slightest. “We can take a break. They’re not following.”
“What in God’s name was that all about?” I ask again.
“Oh, that? Like I said, my dad likes to keep tabs on me,” he says. “You know, wants to make sure I’m staying sharp for the war ahead.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I ask. “I could have died! And my house! Why did you have a go-bag in *my* house? Oh and my couch—“
I am interrupted by a deafening explosion, much larger and louder than the original explosion that kicked off this nightmare. I turn around to see a mushroom cloud rising from my house. Or rather, what used to be my house.
“Jesus Christ!” I scream.
“Yes?”
“They blew up my house. What the hell, Jesus? You let them blow up my house for…for a god damn test?”
“You’re really a potty-mouth today, dude. And don’t worry about the house,” he says waving me off. “Take it from me, you can’t take it with you. Now let’s get to moving. You don’t want to be caught out in the open for this next part.”
“Next part?” I ask not wanting the answer.
“Yeah, the angels are going to blot out the sky with their arrows,” he says. “It’s actually pretty bad ass.”
“Lovely.”
______
r/InMyLife42Archive
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Two men in smooth black suits stood at the doorway, Bibles in hand. "We come in the name of God," the taller one said.
I wanted to welcome them as I normally did, but I heard a deep "shhhh!" from behind me. Not wanting to give Jesus away, and not wanting to stare silently at the men, I whispered a simple "hello"
"Good sir, you seem rather nice this morning," the shorter one said, motioning towards my suit. "Say, do you happen to know God?"
"I do," I whispered back.
"Ahem, there's no reason to be quiet, the taller one said."
"Tell them we're not interested," Jesus whispered behind me.
*But, why?* I thought, flabbergasted. We almost never turned anyone away. Yet, I was not one to disobey a direct command from the Lord.
"We're not interested," I spoke loudly.
"We?" the taller one said. "Who else is there?"
"Shut the door," Jesus whispered in a hurried tone.
I did as commanded, hearing a loud bang as it closed.
"Good work, Saint Peter," Jesus said. I turned to him. He saw my facial expression and explained at once. "They've been peddling a God who only remotely resembles me for over a hundred and fifty years. They've led millions astray and their religion has caused misery en-masse."
"But I thought we forgave *everyone?*" I asked.
"We do. And we will, once they've spent some time being reminded of the pain they've caused."
I looked through the peephole of the door and saw their feet being pulled down by the Hand of Satan.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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[WP] You never really believed your grandmother's stories about the little people who lived in her home. After she passed and left it to you, you said, "Okay, Little People! I'm sorry, but the economy sucks, so I'm going to have start charging rent." In the morning, you find a small pile of gold.
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I stared down at the small pile of ancient gold coins. They had to be ancient, there were bits of them that were still covered in moss. I'd never really believed Oma when she talked about the Little People in the house. As a joke, when I'd inherited the house, I'd made a general announcement in each room about the economy and paying rent. And this morning, I'd woken up to *this* on my nightstand.
Ignoring the goosebumps that rose on my arms at the thought of the Little People— whoever they might be— watching me sleep, I reached out and picked up two of the coins. They were too small to pick up individually, perfectly sized for a folk that was considered little. The gap that they left in the pile revealed an equally small piece of paper.
Using the zoom on my camera, I managed to read the message.
'This is all we have. We hope it is enough for your rent. We don't want to be freeloaders, or to impinge on your generosity.'
'P.S. Sorry about your loss.'
Well, I felt like shit. I'd just impoverished a whole group of Little People and they were apologizing for the loss of my grandmother. After wallowing in my guilt for a few minutes, I came up with a plan. Walking into every room in the small house again, I made an announcement in every room, making sure I spoke clearly. Hopefully, they heard me.
All throughout that day I waited with bated breath, making preparations in my living room. If the Little People had heard me, that's where they would be appearing. And this time I would be awake to see them. I'd set up a table nearly at eye level, a small stack of paper and the tiniest writing implements I could find. Hopefully, even if the size difference made it difficult to understand their voices, we would still be able to communicate. I'd also moved the small pile of gold, bringing it here.
It was around midnight when I first saw movement. Small figures swarmed up the legs of the table until they reached the top, and I got my first visible impression of the Little People. They were impeccably dressed, each looking as if they were about to attend a fancy ball. Tiny feathered wings hung down their backs, and I wondered why they hadn't just flown up to the table. Nevertheless, they were here, and that was the important thing.
One of their number stepped forward, clearing her throat. I watched her eyes flicker from me, to the pile of gold and then back again. Unsure of the protocol for interacting with another race, especially one that had probably been living here longer than me, I waited.
"You asked for a meeting, and while that breaks every rule of interaction, we all agreed it might be necessary. Please, what more do you want from us?" She said, a hint of desperation in her voice.
As gently as I could, I pushed the pile of gold toward the group, making sure my movements were slow. I didn't want to scare them.
"Here. I don't feel right about taking all your gold. But," I held up a finger as she opened her mouth. "Neither do I want you to feel like freeloaders. So, here's what I propose." I took a deep breath, making sure my voice was level, pushing down any unruly emotions.
"You probably knew my Oma better than I did. Honestly, I was surprised when I inherited the house, we hadn't spoken in—" My voice cracked. "In twenty years. I guess, I just, you know, I was...busy." It sounded like such a flimsy excuse, but to my surprise, the Little People didn't look judgemental, though they probably had every right to judge.
"So, for as long as it takes, your rent is to tell me about her. About what she was like, what she did with her life, everything you saw here." I stopped, my throat closing. I hadn't realized how much I loved that old woman until she'd died, until I'd run out of 'I'll visit laters.'
The spokesperson for the Little People looked up at me, tilting her head to the side. It was a remarkably bird-like movement, and coupled with the wings, I wondered if perhaps there was bird in their makeup.
"And this would be seen as fair compensation?" She asked.
"More than fair." I managed to choke out.
She nodded, and waved a hand behind her. Almost faster than sight, the rest of the group swarmed the gold, each taking a few pieces before vanishing back into the dark. In a few seconds, only the spokesperson remained. She moved from the table to the arm of the couch, sitting comfortably. And the stern face she'd presented, cracked into a gentle smile as she looked up at me.
"Then, the first tale begins tonight. The story of your...Oma...when she bought this house and moved in."
As she continued, I surreptitiously wiped at my face, my hand coming away wet. Even in this economy, this was better payment than any pile of gold.
——————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories!
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My Grandmother used to tell me stories of the Little People. She said they lived in our home.
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"But Grandma how come I never see them?" I would argue.
"Why should you huh? What have you done? I only know them because i saved one back in my younger days. And because I listen. Spend some hours on the floor, lying so still your insides prick, do nothing else in the silence, then maybe you'll hear them. If you're lucky, you'll get a peak." She would respond.
I never did as she said.
I never truly believed, so it was with half heartedness when I said the following words, decades later. It was after she left me the house. A fine cottage straight out of a fairytale, with an adorable red rooftop and chimney, and neat rows of flower beds.
First, I breathed in and out. Then I began.
"Ok. So um Little People I'm sorry but the economy sucks, i'm going to start charging rent."
I hadn't worked out the amount. That night, I did some drawings in my sketchbook, then went to bed. In the morning, I found a small pile of gold coins in a cute little bag, tied with a banana leaf. Shocked, I wrote back.
"Thanks for the coins. I'll check later how much they translate to in our current currency. Meanwhile, would you like to join me for tea later? I can make sandwiches, you can tell me about your time with my grandmother."
With Love,
Anne Mainer
I waited eagerly for a couple hours, but I received no response. Eventually, I left it there and stopped checking. I saw a reply the next morning.
"Tea sounds lovely. How does 4 oclock work for you?"
Your's Truly,
The Little People,
Littleish
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[WP] A commuter train passing through Monster Town derails. Most of the passengers are found except a wealthy heir. Their wealthy parents sends a specialist to the supernatural hamlet to recover the missing heir because the police are forbidden to enter the supernatural sovereign territory.
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My heart stopped. I guess it would be more accurate to say that everything stopped. The noise of the city, the passers-by, the birds, even the wind seemed to pause as I stared dumbly at the scene in front of me. It seemed as if the whole world had halted for this moment.
Just in front of me, kneeling on the ground, was my girlfriend of three years. In her hand, stretched out towards me, was a ring. My girlfriend had just proposed to me.
"What?" I asked, still dumbstruck.
"You mean absolutely everything to me and I want to spend the rest of my life with you." Her voice was shaky. I could tell that she was nervous.
Or perhaps nervous was an understatement. She looked terrified, apprehensive, and cautiously optimistic all at once.
My brain then decided to catch up to reality. But just as I was going to emphatically shout 'Yes!' to her, I noticed the ring.
Silver. Damn. That was bad. Well, not bad, but actually dangerous. You see, I am a werewolf. Silver is deadly to me. A ring like this won't kill me, but it would be extraordinarily painful. If I were to put it on I could lose the finger entirely.
With this in mind, and keenly aware that I had taken way too long to think, I told her that yes, I would love nothing more than to marry the woman of my dreams. Or I tried to. What actually came out was:
"I... uh, yes! Yes, I... yes! You...er, I mean... I...yes, I do! Want to, that is. Marry... oh god." The gods wish they were as articulate as I am. Eat your heart out Shakespeare.
Elisabeth, my new fiancé (bro, what?!), was elated, if a bit confused, at my incoherent ramble. Me too, love, me too.
She grabbed my hand and began to put the ring on my finger. Alarm bells started going off in my head. There was only one thing I could do; I would have to tell her the truth. I looked around to see if there was an audience before spilling my guts only to see that, yes, there was an audience. Worse yet, some were filming it. We were in a rather secluded part of the park, but I guess not secluded enough.
I couldn't tell her the truth now, not could I refuse the ring after that *extremely poetic* bit earlier. I would have to actor the ring and suffer in silence until I could take it off. I might lose the finger, but I would just have to take the chance.
As the ring slid onto my finger, I could addled feel the pain set in. It was a burning pain, like dipping your finger into a deep-fryer. I was in agony. But I would put up with it until we could go somewhere more private.
She stood up and kissed me on the spot. I wish I could lose myself in the kiss like I usually do, but the pain made everything hard to focus on. Many people believe that the pain is similar to touching hot metal, but it really feels like sticking your hand in boiling water or oil. Sure the metal is hot, but it isn't a localized pain like a branding. It's also more dull than hot metal.
I pulled away from the kiss and practically dragged Elisabeth to the bushes, dimly aware of some congratulations coming from the crowd. I needed this ring off, and I needed it off now. We ran into the bushes and I proceeded to rip the ring off my finger and thrust it into Elisabeth's had with no pretext that I was not in tremendous pain.
As I cradled my burning hand Elisabeth looked worried and hurt. Oh, right. The proposal. She probably thought that I just rejected her in private. I promptly shut that idea down with a deep kiss. She returned it reluctantly.
"God, I love you." I said. She just looked more confused. "I can't wear silver." I confessed.
"Oh. Oh! You're allergic?" Elisabeth sounded relieved.
"Something like that." I risked a glanced at my burning finger. It was deep red. It was definitely burned. Perhaps third degree at that. Apparently Elisabeth also saw it.
"Oh, God! Is that from the ring?" She grabbed my hand to get a better look at it.
"Yeah. Ow." I responded.
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know-" I cut her off with another kiss.
"Hey, it's my fault that I didn't tell my new fiancé about my allergy. Just means I get to help you pick my new ring." Her eyes beamed at that. God I love her.
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Yes, 1000 times yes! But um.. is that silver?
Yes, is there something wrong?
Actually, and I can't believe I never brought it up, I'm highly allergic to silver. Like way worse than hives, literally burns my skin. Lots of people have silver allergies but mine hit the harsher side. I want to accept the ring, but while I'd suffer anything to be with you, this could quite literally kill me.
Oh.. I see. So it's like a peanut allergy?
Not quite. You can wear and touch it all you like, and I can hold you close, kiss, and do anything you want if you've wore it where I touch, but I can't activly touch silver. Peanuts could be a kiss of death if you're not careful, silver is just the touch.
Okay, I really should have asked first, I just didn't really think about it since you're always so healthy and full of energy, and shit haha
And that's why you love me, shit and all.
So with that, let's go get that ring encased in something clear and I can make a necklace out of it. Then we'll go get something together, sound good?
Absolutely.
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[WP] A man spends every day at the train station. Every time a train passes, he writes something on his notebook. One day, you find the notebook lying on the ground and the man is nowhere to be found.
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Dustin's case of writer's block had gotten more severe than he had ever imagined. His last book "The Wilt Faeries of Agathon" had been a huge hit in 2012, and it had recently become popular again through this thing called booktube and booktok, that the kids kept going on about. Dustin wasn't sure what those things were but they had brought him back into the game and people were asking him when he'd come out with new work. He was done with fantasy, the last 12 years had worn him down, and despite reality being worse than ever for him, it's all he longed to explore. He recently took a writer's workshop, and one of tips he had gotten from the workshop leader was to go out and see the world more. So Dustin decided to go to the train station outside his house and sit on a bench.
He'd give himself a task, every time a train passed he'd write about new people at the station.
WOOOOSH! A train heading for Calleger went by.
*An old woman was talking to man who looked like he had seen better days, he was sort of hunched over and had a shifting gaze. He was carrying two bags of groceries.*
*"Hi Brian!"*
*"Hello Miss Ann, how are you?", each word he spoke had a different tone to it, as if each word were an impression of a different accent.*
*"I'm good, thanks. How are the kids Brian? I haven't seen them in ages."*
*"I-I don't have any kids"*
*"Oh that's right", she smiled.*
*The man stared at her, there was a certain discomfort in his eyes, but not bewilderment, like it was something he was used to.*
*"So do you have any fun plans for the weekend Brian?"*
*"No, I just got back from the farmers' market in Durham, so hoping to do some good cooking"*
*She let out a chuckle.*
*"Oh you like food, don't you?"*
*"I guess so, don't we all?", he said and gave her a forced smile.*
*She stared unsubtly down at his belly, he didn't look like he'd be the first casting option for a mall Santa, but perhaps had potential to get there some day.*
*"Hm, that might be true Brian, that might be true"*
*Silence.*
*"You're just cooking for yourself then? Or is there a special someone?", her eyes sparkled with joy and she shook her chest a little.*
*"Just myself"*
*"Oh, that's a shame...Would you like me to come over, so there's someone there?"*
*"Um-"*
WOOOSH, Another train went by.
*A little boy, no older than five, was walking next to his mother. He did a little skip with every four step, and eventually it turned into running. "STEVIE! Stevie come here!", she screamed.*
*The boy giggled with delight, and went closer to the yellow line by the platform edge, teasingly. The mother was chasing him and he started running in a circle.*
*"Ya can't catch me mum!"*
*"STEVIE! THAT'S DANGEROUS! DANGEROUS!!"*
*This only excited Stevie more.* Suddenly Dustin could imagine exactly the kind of person Stevie would grow up to be if he survived the day.
*The giggling became more intense and so did his vicinity to the rails. And then down he went. To the floor that is, he just missed the edge. An intense shriek echoed in the hall from both the mother and the boy. She picked him up and then walked away, she comforted him as tears poured down his red face.*
WOOOOOooOOSH
Good timing, Dustin thought.
*A man with headphones walked by with a large suitcase humming, "Like a Prayer" to himself.*
No trains were stopping for another hour, just going by.
Then it was empty, no one around. Dustin considered changing his spot, but no this is the spot he had committed to every day. Perhaps someone will come here by mistake, it will be worth it.
WOOOSH, another train went by.
Dustin put his pen to his notebook, nothing. There was no one around. His shame and fear around his lack of writing over the last years came crashing back.
If only life were more interesting, everyday life, like his old best sellers. He sighed. Perhaps this was a stupid exercise. Or maybe there didn't need to be people in it or maybe- he turned his head around and then he saw a man staring back at him in the reflective glass of the building behind him - himself. His pen went back to the notebook.
*The man looked defeated, as he stared at himself. He had failed at the one thing he wanted to do in life and you could see it in his eyes, and in the corners of his mouth which rarely pointed up. He wanted to capture real life, but he wasn't even living it fully, so how could he? He wished he lived in another world, where magic was all around and not just little boys who crossed the yellow line or busybody neighbors like Ann. It was too much, the idea of writing his next great novel, too much pressure, too much everything, he wish he could just disappear. POOF!*
WOOOOOOSH.
All that was left on the bench was a notebook and a pen.
I had one of those faulty wheel suitcases when I bumped into it, a notebook lying on the ground of the station. I picked it up out of curiosity, and flicked through it. *"Property of Dustin Edwards"* it said on the first page. Wait a minute, is this- it must be! Oh my God, I love his work! I couldn't wait to read it.
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"You are really getting on my nerves, Hank. This is getting ridiculous. You can't even see anymore. What the heck are you writing about?"
"Dear, you'll know when I finish. Soon now."
Edith scowled and picked up the broken glass and the dirt and plants. She placed it in the trashbags they brought.
His plan was to smash one for each inaccessible train that passed by.
He was protesting the lack of accessible trains for all types of disabled people.
Hank was still carrying a crate of plants, all in vases.
A train howled by and he smashed another one. He could hear that it was using the old model.
Didn't have a way for him to get on.
The doors that were wide enough could be at the front or the back or the middle. It usually wasn't enough time for him to make his way there when he was always guessing.
Edith was filming him and posting his blind, sometimes drunken, occasionally wheelchair-bound, ramblings online.
They had 37 followers and growing.
Hank grew up with Andy Kaufmann. He had always wanted to be a comedian like him. But he had failed. He went to an open mic once, then walked out when it was his turn.
He had thought about farting into the mic at least, because his IBS was what caused him to walk out, but he didn't want to me known as a fart joke comedian.
Instead, he was never known as one.
As an older man, he found fame on TikTok. Even though he would never see it.
Being blind and sometimes bound to a wheelchair, occassionally because he was so sloshed, was most of his bit.
His protest of the lack of accessible trains, which amounted to crates of smashed vases for those however many trains in a row, made the news after Edith's posts.
Seven trains or so had passed by when he shooed her off one night.
He didn't make the eigth.
Edith knew it was him when she was watching the news and saw his notebook in the background, closed off with a yellow cone.
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[WP] when most people envision a "war mage" they envision what the school of magic churns out: wafer thin scholars shieking "fireball!!" Not a brute with a large greathammer for an arcane focus.
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“Brute,” they say. “Terror,” they say. “Disgrace to the storied history of mages and a mockery of both esoteric and current arcane-based practices!” they say. They’re always laughing. Pointing. Mocking.
That is, until steel hits their face, and they crumple to their knees in agony in all of their esoteric glory.
By all appearances, I’m just… a normal orc. Fairly average height, tusks that curl up my lip; tight, thick black braids that tumble down my rough and rugged shoulders, and heavy chain armor that covers me from shoulder to toe. It’s comfortable, it protects me from both elements *and* swords, and most of all… it looks cool. I guess I *do* have a bit of wizard in me.
But no matter where I go, no matter what battle is to be fought… almost all of them scoff at me. Turn up their noses. Just another orc with rocks for brains.
Oh, how I love proving them wrong.
The Stormhowl War has been at a standstill for nearly two years, now; neither side giving room, neither side giving way. And as a foot soldier, you are always – always – at the mercy of the mages. This is not your war, and you do not fight it – you are a meat shield for the truly powerful, who sling spells and decimate armies without even seeing their faces.
It is… Horrific. Barbaric. Whatever you would like to call it. And as for me… we had enough.
And so, after one particularly gruesome battle, I shattered my own leg after pilfering a spellbook from a mage’s corpse. I, of course, did not yet know that it was taboo. I didn’t even know if I could learn magic. All I knew was that I was sick of watching my men burn so that the mages could shout words at each other. Who wouldn’t be?
As I recovered, I did all I could to understand and memorize the contents. To know one’s enemy is key to defeating them, and if we continued what I later learned was the so-called “definition of insanity,” I would have been dead in the next battle. After all, I heard the news that a meteor had dropped upon their army, killing nearly a thousand of their troops. But in the meantime, one hundred of ours were in the fallout – most of them my brothers and sisters. My friends.
And to hear those mages gloating over their victory made me want to strangle them. They saw nothing but numbers in a game of chess. I wanted my vengeance -- but that time was not now, and would not be for a number of years.
The spellbook had myriad notes and sundry descriptions of all of the spells – a novice, it seemed. But it was perfect – I could understand it all, and soon I was able to disguise myself magically. And so, after I died a most glorious “death” in battle, I took that first dead mage’s appearance and was accepted to a mage’s university. I learned all I could from those saints and scholars, gained some… annoying turns of phrase, and over the course of a few years, learned just what made mages tick. And that was when the fun part came in.
Reverse engineering. Protective wards against arcane energies. Some call it “abjuration,” but I simply called it reflection. Each spell they taught was another spell I learned; and for every spell I learned, I learned how to combat it. It was only a few months before a wayward spell ruined my disguise, but by that time, I had worked hard enough to reach the top of my class – and after a few well-placed threats, I was allowed to stay.
When I returned to the front after my sabbatical, I was just another orc on the frontlines, ready to die for the meager coin they promised us, but never gave. And yet, despite cataclysmic events and horrendous spells, I was always the only one unscathed. Even when they found the source of the “meat-shields” and began to slaughter our villages, I was always the one who survived.
And I became something of a legend. A horror, whispered about whenever I entered the dining tent, looming over the frail, weak “mages” that were there. They whispered about the runes I had carved into my warhammer, and the way that it shone with light as it struck the enemy.
And that’s exactly as I prefer it.
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I had the chills so typing was surprisingly hard, I apologize for any spelling mistakes. Stupid flu.
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Chase is the newest graduate of the Talen Pyro Academy, an mage of strength. He was recently contacted by the locals to rescue a man from the local bandits.
"I'll do it!" Chase says enthusiastically. "After all, I *am* a graduate of--"
General groans came from the locals, which Chase laughed off.
"How much?" asks one of the locals.
Chase scoffs "50 sp?"
As the crowd reaches to their wallets, Chase interrupts "Hey, woah, I'll get...what's his name? Timbor?"
A general collection of nods came from the crowd.
"Right, brown hair, blue eyes, last seen in a...cornflower blue vest?"
"Yes."
"On it," as Chase turned, sword in hand.
"How will we know you'll come back?"
Chase laughed "when you see me!"
He walked away, but he swore he could hear footsteps.
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[WP] instead of the typical angel and devil people have on their shoulders influencing their decisions, you have a hype man and a nihilist.
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"And so it goes", General Flexu muttered to himself. He looked over his troops, even after the recent battles still over 900,000 strong. Outnumbering the humans nearly 5:1.
Flexu turned to his officers and gave the order, "Take the stronghold. Let these humans learn what war is."
This was not simply the last human outpost on this colony, but the entire system had fallen to the army of the Toradites. But this stronghold was like no other. An entire city buried within the Earth with walls reaching up over 200 feet above the surface. A dome peppered with enclosed anti ship weapons capable of targeting ships in orbit. It was a magnificent structure, but the refusal of the humans was foolish. They had not been able to stop his men at any point as he fought his way through the system. They stood no chance now.
As the light of the day waned the much honored Toraditian general began to reevaluate. The gate had been breached but at great cost. And only then did they find that the area past the gate was killing ground. Many soldiers dies, and more were injured. He ordered his troops to regroup. The second day would not go like the first.
As the sun rose the plan spread through the ranks. The wall would be the target. It would take most of the heavy explosives to create a breach large enough to attack through. General Flexu examined one of the five walls of the human stronghold. While Dratu, his second in command read off the reports of the landscape of the other sides.
"Enough!" Flexu proclaimed. We will breach the wall on the western side. As the sun falls we will have it at our backs and we can continue the fighting late into-" and stopped as an explosion sent debris from the metal wall raining over the army. It at been breached just to the side of the general's position. "Those idiots, why didn't they wait for my order!". General Flexu, 1st of the order of the Toradite Empire, scourge of the Rivian wars, never learned why explosion happened. The anti ship flak guns that tore through his position and brain made sure of that.
The newly promoted Dratu managed to see the truth. "The humans destroyed there own wall. Their artillery is firing through the breach, Target their guns!" General Dratu ordered. Then, examining his own wounds, and realizing he would survive, he surveyed the counterattack. The Toradites were skilled in war. There own artillery responded. And while the walls could scarcely be scratched, the handful human shrapnel guns that had been moved into the opening were now exposed and quickly silenced. Designed to pierce ship shields and shred internal systems, the effectiveness of these weapons against troops was breathtaking. Thousands had been killed in the few minutes the guns were firing. More were injured, many of whom would never fight again.
And the stronghold wall, the greatest defense of the humans, was breached. A perfect entrance into the stronghold to wipe out the humans. An obvious trap. Dratu had seen the carnage after the gate had been breached. He had learned. That night he summoned his commanders. "We will continue with the plan the great General Flexu came up with. We will breach the wall in a location of our choosing, and the humans will fall. They have no more colonies in this area, and the small Rivian fleet in this sector will not attack our great armada to save humans"
And fall they did. Three days after Dratu took command a new breach was formed in the wall. The Toradite entered in and killed the humans. As attack groups made their way through the labyrinth inside the great wall they walked into ambushes. Many attack groups fell, but the humans died. After 2 days the army reached the middle ring, the city proper. Buildings were sabotaged, streets collapsed, and ambushes occurred just often enough to keep his army on edge. But the city fell.
The battle for the inner sanctum of the stronghold was the fiercest. The humans only numbered 10,000 by this point, but each one fought bravely. But the Toradites knew that the brave could be killed.
As the gunfire ended and the last humans were killed, General Dratu was filled with disgust. Disgust that the humans' pride would lead to so much unnecessary death. They were dead, and the Toradites were victorious. His army, once over a million strong, had been reduced to a fourth of that. And only 40,000 were still capable of fighting, the rest would be lucky to walk again.
The Toradite army had been crippled. And the humans did not live to see it. Nor did the humans see the Rivian fleet descend to eliminate the Toradites.
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Fleet Admiral Krynn didn't respond for a long moment. This, Captain Taq knew was a bad sign as the Fleet Admiral was known to be very quick-witted. If the Fleet Admiral was thinking, things were going to be...unpleasant.
"Alright, send this response." the Fleet Admiral began tapping symbols on a data-pad, sending pre-programmed commands to subordinate commanders. "I don't know, or care, what any of those things are. Likewise a "Google".
"If you hairless apes wish to see your entire species exterminated, I am prepared to oblige you. I'd rather not, but I'm very comfortable doing so because it's more expeditious than wasting time trying to explain to you how hilariously out-gunned you are.
"Your species cannot get past your planet's moon, my species home planet cannot even be detected by your strongest technology.
"We are ***NOT*** equals in any way, shape, or form. We don't even have to land on the surface of your world, we can just rain destruction down upon your cities until there is nothing left but rubble.
"As I am in a generous mood I will give you exactly one rotation of your planet to decide if your species is going to survive. This decision is entirely yours to make, and I will abide by it.
"Surrender, or die. Those are your options, and I will not be repeating this offer."
"Is that all, sir?" Captain Taq inquired politely.
"Yes, I think that should do." the Fleet Admiral waved his underling away. "Oh, wait...I forgot the customary Terran closure: Have a nice day."
edit: typo
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[WP] "You should be aware that casting this spell will legally require me to take your firstborn child" said the Witch, "but the meaning of 'take' was never defined, so I imagine we can figure out a loophole or two that'd work for you."
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I nodded in agreement. Most people asking for spells from witches were young, yet to have any children at all; I barely fit in "middle age." Still, in the small farming village, it was hard to find a solution for my ills that didn't involve magic, and the nearest chirurg was a week's travel through the swamps and hills. This being harvest season, I couldn't afford the time off, and once the fields were cleared, the snows would start, and the hills would become impassible. No, this was the best chance I had.
Besides, Witch Fairweather was still young herself; it wasn't until wrinkles and old age kicked in that people got to be in such sour moods. She hadn't hexed anyone in months, and even then she only turned young Frederick into a toad because he kept bullying Ella. And he turned back two days later, too. Our previous witch would hex you as soon as look at you, but she was quite old and ugly. I would have hexed people too if my nose was that warty.
I blinked, realizing I was just staring off into space. Thankfully. I'd hate to think what she would hex me with if she caught me staring at her-
I nodded hastily. "Thank you, Witch Fairweather; I really appreciate it. And as promised, I will deliver my last apples here, as soon as they are harvested. Oh, and I'll bring some of my blackberry jam, and some of Mrs. Jolley's fresh bread, too. Thank you!"
She beamed at me. "Legally speaking, mind you, and as the only witch in a hundred miles, I'll be the final judge as to whether 'take' applies or not. And I do hope you feel better soon, Mr. Jakeson."
She waved to me from her door, her shapely figure silhouetted in the fire behind her. My, my. If I were half my age... well.
The next week, I wracked my brain for a solution. The usual fare was that the witch would claim your first-born child, and raise them as her own; that certainly wouldn't work for me, as my only son was fully grown. Older than her by a couple years, even. The last day of harvest, I plucked another apple, chucking it down onto the gathering sheet, and scoured the branches for any others hiding in the leaves. A good harvest; plenty of apples this year. Climbing down, I wrapped up the sheet and set it in my wheelbarrow, before grabbing my ladder and slinging it under my arm. Take... take... take. Hmm.
As I delivered the final apples as promised - complete with a jar of my blackberry jam, and two loaves of Mrs. Jolley's bread. I don't know what she put in her loaves, but they were soft and delicate as clouds. Humming softly, I trudged up the hill to the witch's cottage. Miss Fairweather lived in the same old cottage that Witch Waxbeak had occupied, but she'd made some renovations, clearing away the thorny brambles and replacing them with roses and sweet-smelling herbs. She'd gotten Bov from the village to put in real windows with working shutters, too, which gave her house a happy, smiling look, instead of the dark, brooding grimace it used to wear.
As I stretched my legs, I realized my back hadn't been bothering me, and the constant headaches I'd been getting had gone away; I stopped and twisted side to side, marveling at my newfound mobility. That tea Witch Fairweather gave me sure was some special stuff! Why, I felt years younger. I crested the hill, and waved to Miss Fairweather, who was carefully trimming back her roses. "Halloo, Witch Fairweather! I've brought apples, jam, and bread, just like I promised!"
She waved back, just as cheerfully. "Hallo, Mr. Jakeson! It looks like my tea has been working! Do come in and share the bread with me!"
I happily did so, setting the still-steaming linen-wrapped bread on the table. I noticed it wobbled slightly when I did. "You know, Miss Fairweather, you've done a beautiful job on your garden, but it looks like your furniture could use some work."
She tutted, setting plates out for the two of us. "Yes, that old table is too big to remove, but too wobbly to use properly. I keep stuffing sticks under the wobbly leg, but it doesn't help for long. I swear, Witch Waxbeak sawed the leg off herself, just to spite whoever moved in."
I chuckled. "Yes, that sounds like her. Say, I'm going to be busy for the next few weeks, but my son has finished up his business; perhaps he could come over and fix up your table. Thom might not know any magic, but he's still a wizard with woodworking."
She nodded, a thoughtful look in her eye. "I would appreciate that, Mr. Jakeson. Tea?"
That winter, Thom spent quite a bit of time helping Witch Fairweather. He dug out a cellar, cut down a dead branch from the old oak that leaned over her house, and rebuilt the fallen garden wall, as well as fixing her table. It seemed less that he was visiting her, and more that he was visiting me, at times!
Late winter, during a particularly heavy snowfall, he and I were sitting by the fire, staring out at the howling wind and swirling snow. Out of the silence, he spoke, slowly and thoughtfully. "Father, I've been thinking. Miss Fairweather is helpful, and kind, and, uh, very beautiful."
He blushed. I nodded, tapping my pipe. "That she is. I'm glad she chose to take over for old Witch Waxbeak. She's done a lot of good for this village."
"I, uh. I would like... er. I think... I think I'd like to court her. If, uhm, if that's ok."
I grinned. "Why, I can't think of any reason not, though perhaps you should ask her?"
He nodded, and after a moment's hesitation, dashed out the door - returning a moment later to grab his hat and coat. I chuckled to myself, shaking my head. Those two were meant for each other, plain as day; it was clear he was head-over-heels, and I hadn't missed the fluttery-eyelash looks she gave him, either. I wouldn't be surprised if they were wed before spring planting.
A thought occurred to me, jolting me such that I nearly dropped my pipe. Quickly, I rifled through my desk, and pulled out the little book the traveling chaplain had handed off to me when he left. "Dearly beloved... gathered here... have and to hold..." Ah, here it is! "And do you *take* this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?"
Well, I'll be.
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Agnes pulled her Takeaway Catalog and presented it to the worried parents. "Shall we flip through and find a 'takeaway' that fits you and your firstborn child?"
The couple stared at her like she just grown horns on her warts. "You mean we don't have to give her up to you?"
The witch sighed and rolled her eyes. "No, you nincompoops! That's old-fashioned Salem style. We don't do that anymore if we want good business and repeat customers. So, take a pick." Agnes gestured towards her catalog. "Do you want me to take them for a summer holiday trip? Take them for a spin on my broomstick? I stock as many loopholes as that old wizard Myzgog has holes in his fridge logic!"
"When you say summer holiday trip, how long will it last before our girl comes back to us?" The father asked.
"As long as you want, really," Agnes shrugged and slurped at her mug of Gooey Gargle Blaster. "A budget day trip? That'd cost you $50. You want a weekend holiday for little Charla? Make that $300. So, what will it be?"
The child's mother gazed cautiously at her cup, its content the same texture as the thick mud around Werewitch Swamp. "Who gets to plan the itinerary for the weekend summer holiday?"
Agnes flashed her a toothy grin. "Why, honey, that's entirely your choice. You could come up with the travel plan yourself, and I do my veery best to make it happen. Or you could trust me to plan the trip for your little one."
The father nodded and turned to his wife. "I say we plan the trip. Who knows what twisted ideas that witch has for holidays. Her concept of fun could be rather inappropriate. I mean, just look at her bloody gothic decor!"
"You say like we have a lot of time on our hands!" His wife shot back. "My cousin said her son had a great time with Agnes, so I say we give her a chance."
"Might as well give that eldritch god in that fishing town a chance. I'd rather sprout tentacles than hand over our daughter to that warty witch. Not even for a week!"
"Excuse me, I'm a certified ASTA Travel Industry Expert" Agnes snorted, spurting Gargle Blaster juice on the table. "Alongside my Magical Safety Certification, no harm will befall your daughter."
The couple pulled away from Agnes' table to discuss among themselves. She was done gulping ten Gargle Blasters when they finally sat back down before her with a decision.
"We'll entrust Charla into your care for a week in exchange for casting your Wealth Spell," they declared.
"Good!" Agnes clapped and nodded. "Now sign your names on this contract here. Then, get your girl over to my swamp hut and put her thumbprint on the contract too."
"Wait," the couple was confused. "Why would you need that? We're making the contract with you. Charla isn't involved in this spellbound exchange."
"Well, excuse me, you bumpkins!" The witch snarled. "I'm a law-abiding good witch, and little kids have magical rights to spellbound contracts too!"
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[WP] "There are three rules for mind-readers..." The man speaks sternly. "Don't read loved ones, don't reveal your powers, and NEVER try to read animals." He shivers a bit. "You probably think that last part is a joke but trust me; one glimpse into a horse and you won't be right for a week."
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# The voices we would not hear
Gulping lightly, She looked at his pale blue eyes. Searching for help through occultist and new age foruns proved fruitless, a myriad of people searching for ghosts and freaks were they are not. Until, mysteriously, She stepped on the man's path. Terry felt another thought inside her skull, asking for how long could she read what other people were thinking.
Jumping, and making a scene in the small library, Terry took a look at the man with balding grey hair and unkempt beard. A stereotype of a mystic, almost a modern day Rasputin. He introduced himself as Virgil, and invited the girl for a coffee.
"We are anomalies." He said, monotonously; the way his face changed, one almost saw a smirk under the thick moustache. "Born on the brink of extinction and, as someone once advised me..."
"You now pass the set of rules for me." Concluding the line of thought. "Have your mentor explained the *why* of these rules?"
The man showed some teeth, in a surprisingly warm smile.
"Ah... indeed, talented minds indeed."
He looked through the window, towards the cloudy sky, and took another sip of the coffee from his white mug.
"You not only can read thoughts, but also search for them." He began, the smile fading away. "One day, you can be on a happy married life, then your curiosity wins. Suddenly, your wife is thinking about divorce; your husband is having an affair with the neighbour and your kids are not yours. Or worse, your mother regrets not having an abortion when she had the chance." He put his gaze back at yours. "You'd be surprised at how many readers prefer death over life with this information."
She took the mug to her lips but did not drink the hot beverage. The information was enough to digest.
"And I guess, the second rule is because I don't want to spend the rest of my days as a test subject."
The man silently nodded.
"What about the third rule?"
"It's better to take my word for it."
His words were not enough. In her apartment, Terry laid on a small couch with a blanket covering her legs, her gaze fixed in Pandora. A white cat, between six and eight years old. She laid on a rug, with the tail covering herself, almost making her look like a pillow. With the silence on the house, her purring could be heard from their distance. She appeared mysteriously on a walk a few blocks to the right.
What could be so terrible in the mind of a cat? An eldritch horror? Some sophisticated thoughts?
Taking a deep breath. The reader felt the familiar sensation. Imagine that your mind is extending an arm and touching a box. You can feel its smoothness and sharp corners. All you have to do is... open.
No voice, or thought, erupted in her mind. Rather, it was like a film. A dream where you're vividily paid attention to your surroundings. Everything was so large, or, maybe, she was so small. The floor was close to her view, almost as if she was laying on it directly, made of mahogany. She wanted to look around, to move her neck, but she couldn't. The view of the floor kept for a full minute. Until a creaking sound made itself known. Terry felt the tension course through her body.
With heavy steps, there was a man. He was wet, or maybe sweaty? His rugged features and black hair weren't strange... from memory, he could be the butcher or the baker, that she saw whenever she had to do groceries. Something moved in her back, and then, from her mouth, a low hissing sound came.
She wasn't Terry, right now. Well, not only Terry.
The man looked at her and gave a dry chuckle. "Still mad at me, stupid?!" He said, without looking at her/them.
He sat on an armchair with thorn tissue, and grabbed his phone. While his thumb scrolled up, he made a shushing sound twice, until looking at them; he moved fast, grabbing a shoe and threw at them.
Pandora's reflexes were good. She dodged easily.
"Big fucking deal. Your *kittens* were put on a bag" He said with venom on his voice. "And I got rid of them, I made sure I did correctly, just so you learn to not act like a slut on my house, got it?"
The movie was interrupted by a brusque sensation that made Terry, the real one, fall on the ground, rolling the blanket on her legs. The sleeping cat, Pandora, woke up startled.
She could not contain the tears in her eyes as she walked closer to the cat and extended her hand towards the animal. That let a small meow escape her mouth and touched the hand with her forehead.
For the rest of the night, Terry stood there, scratching and holding the cat, while sobbing helplessly.
|
With the exception of the second one, these seem arbitrary
They are there for a reason
That being?
You don't want to know what your loved ones are thinking,the last time someone disregard that they fell into a depression and killed themselves a month after(kinda happens when your SO is a Piece of shit)
And the one with the animals?
I'm not gonna think of it,otherwise it will spread to you too
It can't be that bad Right?(is he exaggerating?)
I'm not
20 bucks says your just weak
Deal,but please don't do it with any predator,try a herbivore first,fine I'll just see some sheep then
A week later
*Slams 20 dollars on the table* what was that?
We don't know,most people kill themselves before they explain
*Looks around nervous for ANY animal* since when do all animals have become Eldridge abominations,of the n dimension?
Probably forever,since these rules have been in place forever
Why didn't you tell me?
Because you wouldn't listen(not the first time)
What you mean not the first time?
You thing you're the first person to get warned about it and still went through?
No, but seems like it wasn't the second or the third time this happened either, was it?
Nah,your is probably shy of the millionth time this decade
That doesn't explains why you don't take bigger precautions
Already tried it, so give it a rest
Fine( i wonder if a had seen a preda-)
Don't
Wh-
I SAID DON'T
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j8nqise
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j8nm09c
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[WP] You are kidnapped by the villain regularly, but you’re starting to look forward to it. You know they won’t hurt you, and are simply being dramatic. It also doesn’t help that you are the only person they ever kidnap. This time, the hero doesn’t bother trying to save you.
|
The first time, accommodations were pretty sparse. A chair and some rope. I was scared, of course, but Red Dragon didn't yell at me to keep quiet or specifically threaten me.
"Don't take this personally," I remember him saying. "You were just in the wrong place at the right time. Once I have what I need, you'll be free to go."
He seemed proud, melodramatic even. Something about how his shoulders squared beneath his cape or the sideways glances he turned to me as he made sure I wasn't escaping spoke to me of a need for attention. From whom, I wasn't sure.
His "Don't try to talk me out of it" quip pretty much *begged* me to. So I, poor conversationalist that I was, tried. Was I keeping him talking, or vice versa? Not that it was hard to get him to talk about himself. So, I asked him questions. About life, about politics, about where he got the fancy outfit. The first two topics were met with frustrated monologues, but at least I could empathize with him, and, to be honest, I spent far too much time trying to "fix" him, because I can't stop myself from problem solving. It's a personal vice.
It was the third topic that garnered his attention. I have something of an artist's eye, so I could opine on the use of color and shape, the stitching and fabric texture, and he definitely had a sense of flair. I even asked for a closer look, which he was happy to provide. He was everything a classic villain should be, I'd say. Brazen, stylish, a touch manic ...ripped. I was jealous.
In the middle of providing a few light critiques of his outfit, one of Snipe Angel's gimmick arrows shattered a window and filled his warehouse lair with sleeping gas. I woke up at the police station and got a ride home.
The second time, I was back in the chair. We both played our parts. Me, the worried captive, and Red Dragon, the proud villain awaiting his nemesis. And some industrial fans. It seems he didn't want his conflict interrupted by another gimmick, but it was also a nice upgrade in the summer heat.
So we talked. "Got any podcasts you'd recommend?" He tried, and failed, to play it straight. I'd never thought a villain could get so excited about upcoming advancements in green energy. I quipped about water recycling, and he looked oddly at me. I was forced to confess that I needed to use the restroom.
I saw some brief surprise before his expression stiffened. "I might be a villain, but I'm magnanimous, not cruel. You can go. This time." I waved to Snipe Angel on my way back to work.
About a week later, the third kidnapping happened. No ropes, just a chain bolted to the floor. Instead of a stiff, wooden chair, there was a comfortable recliner. Behind it, a small room with a notch in the door to accommodate the chain.
"I won't tolerate any interruption this time," Red Dragon bellowed. "So, if you need to, use the private room." The mad lad installed a bathroom.
We talked again. Snipe Angel crashed through a window. For an archer, she was a very entertaining martial artist, too. Pink and white lace fluttered against the deep red and gold of Red Dragon's outfit. It was like an art installation all to myself.
Red Dragon was routed, and he fled dramatically. Snipe Angel set me free and checked on me. "You're not hurt? Is he treating you well?" After some assurances, she left me to return to work, and I went about my day. I really shouldn't have been so well adjusted to getting kidnapped.
Fourth time, it happened during my lunch break. The goons bought me lunch, and we chatted before they led me to the austentacious Dragonwagon. That part I didn't resist so much, but the valet had to threaten me for my keys so he could drive my car back to work. There was some new furniture that time. And a treadmill, to my chagrin. My fault, probably, as I said prior I was having trouble with my weight. Snipe Angel didn't break in through the windows this time, since Red Dragon had replaced them with stained glass. For ambiance, he said.
The fifth happened right as my work day started. My boss told me I was excused for the day and not to worry about my leave hours. I knew exactly why, since I *may* have mentioned all the kidnappings were draining my PTO. So, I spent the day with Red Dragon. I used the new kitchen to make gyoza from scratch, had a wonderful hour of power yoga, and help Red Dragon design some characters for a comic book he was planning. Snipe Angel knocked on the door. "Are you okay in there, Mr. Hale?" she asked without a shred of concern. After I said yes, I could almost hear her pout. "I'll be on the roof if you need me."
After that, the "kidnappings" were more frequent. Sometimes daily, but after work, to be considerate. Red Dragon became something of a personal trainer, and I became a confidant. Snipe Angel stopped showing up. Red Dragon started training me, and occasionally, I'd give the goons a hard time, for funsies. The game usually ended when the biggest lad, we called him Beretta, slugged me in the breadbasket. It took me months to stop buckling from that.
Which brings me to today. I bought the goons a spa day, double checked my rope, and slipped into my Stone Lion costume.
Today, I'm kidnapping Red Dragon.
It's Valentine's Day, after all.
|
The villain for many people is the villain, for me he is my unspoken hero. He didn’t hurt me when he was disappointed, or when he was angry. No holes were punched into a wall because he was excited or happy. The only negative thing was the chain that was connected to my collar. I always have been a person that would rather stay inside then go outside and interact with people. Always exhausted when we came back from interviews and such. I was his lover, and yet he hurt me more then any partner should have.
Once the villain discovered that I was an indie person, that loved to read and listen to music the room changed from time to time. Books that were more my taste, cd’s, snacks and drinks were stocked. The collar became looser and looser until I was told I could take it off. With the instructions that I put it back on when the alarm went off, signaling that the hero was close. After the first few times something was installed that the chain would be longer when the hero was far away, shorter when he would be closer. And usually after a few hours the chain would be shorter and shorter. Everything comfortable would be shifted out of the room leaving it bare. The villain and I both knew that was for show, the hero didn’t. But every kidnapping it would be later and later that he arrived. Until finally he didn’t show up.
That was also the first time the villain set foot into the room. He had a sad look on his face and I didn’t know why, until he showed what was on the screen of his phone. The hero giving an announcement with a women besides him, the hand placement on his arm and the hero’s hand around her waist told me all I needed to see.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think he’s coming for you anymore.” He said sadness and confusion in his voice. I had tears in my eyes looking at the ring on my finger, my engagement ring, the one that clearly didn’t matter to the hero anymore. He had hurt me and this was his final act, and I was numb. Tears doing down my face as I didn’t know what to do. I was safe, with the villain. Ironic isn’t it.
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jbcyrup
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jbbe5z2
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[WP] You've been abandoned on the battlefield, the enemy closing in. Forsaken by heaven and countrymen, you retreat to the deepest corner of your mind. If your gods won't help, perhaps the inner dark will. You cry out to the void. It answers.
|
I'm bleeding. Oil and atmosphere. My life spills from me as I tumble in the dark.
My crew is dead.
I can feel their bodies drifting inside me. They never had a chance. No suits. No warning. The strike was perfect. Clean. Impossible to anticipate. Two mines, one above, one below, positioned to intercept me just as I came out of transit. They detonated instantly when I appeared, perforating my hull with a devastating blast of shrapnel.
The lucky ones died instantly. The unlucky weren't far behind. Decompression doesn't leave a lot of time to think, or act. Or grieve.
My crew is dead.
I have been betrayed. And I'll never know why.
I am spinning away from the rendezvous point, my broken body trailing bits and pieces of useless hardware. Fragments of a comms dish, radiator panels, an empty escape pod torn from its housing. I am going dark. But I can still see.
My fleet is nowhere within sensor range. They should have jumped with me, but I am alone.
They killed my crew.
There are a dozen incoming contacts, maybe more. No IFFs. High thermal signatures. Drives burning hard to accelerate. They will intercept my ragged course and destroy whatever is left of me. I detected no jump signatures from them, no telltale fading light of transit. They were lying in wait, and they're almost here.
I divert power to the few critical systems I have left. My engines are severely damaged, most of my thrusters wrecked. Even if I could stabilize and correct my spin, I cannot maneuver and there is nowhere to run. The enemy is already within weapons range. One torpedo would do it. They could finish the job now, if they cared to. Do they think they can take me alive? They know what will happen if they get close enough.
I test-fire my self-destruct charges. They're functional. Perhaps the best I can hope for now is to take someone with me when I go.
The stars whirl around me. The sensor contacts continue to close. With faint hope I activate my distress beacon. It is a piercing wail, a wave of pain and fear that shimmers out into the cosmos faster than any ship can travel. Is there anyone out there? Anyone who can save me?
Anyone who can avenge me?
There is no answer.
I sink into myself. I shut down my eyes. I set my self-destruct to proximity arm and I wait. I wait to join my crew.
I wrap my broken fingers around the glowing heart of my transit drive, and pull it close. It cannot save me. There is too little time, even if I had the energy left to charge it. But as my mind curls up next to its pulsing warmth, I feel something. Something I've felt before, in the dark.
Whenever I jump, I am alone. All ships are alone in transit. Alone in the infinite depths. There are no stars, no beacons, no minds, no voices. Just the ship, and the dark. Whenever I jump, I am alone…
My captain used to wonder if there was something out there. Something out in the transit void, something lurking in the emptiness we jump through. He never slept during transit. Even during long rides between the farther stars, he would keep himself awake, and talk to me.
My captain once had a dream, in transit. He dreamed of eyes, and teeth. He never slept during FTL again.
I never told him. I never told him! There *is* something in the dark. I know there is.
I spool the drive. I can't jump, but that doesn't matter. The heart drinks all the energy I have left. My reactor is a cooling mass of dead metal. My batteries are one last lungful of air. I give it everything. I twist my fingers around the transit drive and I pour my desperate agony into it and I tear open the darkness and I beg and I plead for the eyes and the teeth.
*My crew is dead!*
The transit drive splits in two.
My eyes open.
I can see the lights above me, the white and blue flares of engines burning and burning with all their power, no longer toward me, but away.
Their velocity is too great. The enemy is closing too fast.
They will never decelerate in time.
*I am hungry.*
|
As I lay in a puddle of my own blood, I know the gods have forsaken me, **the men I considered brothers** had forsaken me too, and by the looks of the enemies surrounding me, fate had too.
​
One last scream, one last beg to anyone resonates deep within me, and the darkness that had been swelling in my bosom answered... after all of these years.
​
\-What for? It inquired
\-I must fight
\-But why?
\-What else do I have dammit!
\-Not much, and soon, by the looks of these men, not even your life
\-They are coming, quick grant me strenght!
\-**NO**
\-What, but why **ZICK!**........ I had been stabbed for the last time.
\-It is time... this pain has being going for too long. The darkness, the nothingness, it awaits, and for people like us, there is nothing, no thinking, no being, we shall simply cease
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ji6okrq
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ji6detn
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[WP] You're an astronaut sent on a solo deep space mission. To combat the loneliness, you've created an imaginary friend who you interact with every day. Upon finally returning, mission control stops you. An unidentified lifeform has been detected on your ship.
|
*“Burn complete. Trajectory nominal. A further velocity reduction burn will commence in T minus 17 minutes. Orbital insertion burn expected at T minus 2 hours and 13 minutes. You may de-harness until T minus 15 minutes .”*
“Thanks,” I muttered, wondering aloud why I was thanking some non-sentient AI pilot software for doing it’s job.
“A bit ironic, isn’t it?” George was now floating above the jump seat that he’d been strapped into during the burn. He certainly took safety seriously for an imaginary person.
“What is?”
“Judging yourself for talking to an AI when you’ve been having long, philosophical discussions with me for months now. Didn’t you say you thought me up?”
“Exactly. I did. You're in my head, and I’m sentient. That makes you far more sentient than some generic pilot software.”
George thought for a moment. “Are you sure I’m imaginary? Do you actually remember thinking me up?”
“George you’re literally wearing what I imagined you wearing. You look like what I imagined you to look like. I named you. I remember thinking you up. I remember
*when* I thought you up. You’re entirely a figment of my imagination.”
“You definitely *think* that’s true, I’ll grant you that, but you’re doubting yourself, aren’t you? You can’t be sure any more. When was it again, exactly, that you thought me up?”
“It was as we approached the Alpha Centauri system, I wished I had someone to share the moment with and...”
The radio crackled to life. *"Mission control to Sirius 47. Ship control systems are reporting multiple lifeforms aboard. Please advise."*
It took me almost a minute to process what I’d just heard.
“What the hell are they on about? That’s not even possible.”
“COMPUTER!” George shouted, his voice sounding different. “Cancel all further manoeuvres.”
*”Orbital manoeuvres cancelled. Manual mode enabled.”*
“What the hell are you doing? If we don’t perform the burns we'll go flying straight past!
Computer, show trajectory path if orbital insertion burn is missed.”
I already knew the answer.
The holographic display flashed into life, cancelling the ship’s dim circadian lights that had been in evening mode. I winced at the brightness of the holographic sun as a white line traced an almost dead straight line passing thousands of miles ahead of Earth’s path and inside the orbits of Venus and Mercury. The good news was, I wouldn’t hit the sun. The bad news was that I would fly past it at such a velocity that I would spend thousands of years in an elliptical heliocentric orbit around the solar system.
There wouldn’t be enough fuel to recover from that. The window to reduce speed was now or never.
The ship would become my coffin, an invisible comet flying eternally between the Oort Cloud and the Sun, every few hundred years passing close to home, only to disappear off into the darkness.
My mind numb, I skipped the simulation forwards. The computer gave a 70% chance that, in around 20,000 years, a close encounter with Venus would eventually send my mummified remains into the Sun.
George started to chuckle to himself.
“Shut up, George. How the hell did you talk to my ship? Computer, advise how many lifeforms are aboard this ship.”
*”There are two lifeforms aboard the ship”*
George pushed himself across the cockpit and put a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, so much time has passed on Earth since you’ve been gone, this might be a better fate, for all you know. Maybe the carbon capture programs failed, maybe the sea warmed even more. It might be hell down there!”
He leaned in to stare closely at the display.
“Actually,” he muttered, “I take that back. No way the climate control systems can handle being that close to a yellow dwarf star. It’ll get pretty hot in here. That’s a horrible way to go.”
I ignored him. He was just a visual and auditory hallucination, a personification of my negative thoughts. There had to be an explanation for all of this.
“Computer, is the second life-form inside the ship? Conduct a full scan of ship exterior.”
*”Exterior check complete. All lifeforms are currently aboard.”*
Nothing made sense. Any hull breach would have been detected. The only way a second lifeform could have boarded this ship is on Earth before it left.
“Computer, when did the second lifeform board the ship?”
*”That data is not available.”*
“The computer was off, you really don’t remember, do you?”
My blood froze. George floated in front of me, a hint of a smile creeping across his face.
“What was your wife’s name? Back on Earth? Why did you leave, knowing you wouldn’t return for centuries?”
I was still in shock, still processing the situation. My brain could barely process what he was asking me, let alone remember.
“I...”
“She died,” George interrupted. “Do you remember her name? Her face? Do you remember your parents?”
“I... I’m in shock or something. I need to perform the velocity burn before it’s too...”
“What’s your NAME?” George snapped. “What does a sunrise look like? What does freshly cut grass smell like? What does love feel like?”
“George, I really need to...”
“WHAT. IS. YOUR. NAME.” George’s smile was gone. “You don’t even know what it’s supposed to be, do you? I’ll tell you. It’s George.
Your wife’s name was Bella. She died in a hurricane, along with your daughter. A sunrise looks like the burning hope of a new day. Freshly cut grass smells like childhood summers. Love feels like the universe suddenly makes sense.”
The holographic display was flashing now, warning that the next velocity burn was overdue.
“COMPUTER, COMMENCE EMERGENCY FUEL DUMP.” George’s eyes were burning with rage, now. They glistened, as if he was holding back tears.
*”Fuel dump underway”*
“What are you doing?” I screamed. “Computer, cancel fuel...”
“You don’t remember because it wasn’t you, it was me! I’m not imaginary. I’m an astronaut. MY name is George Ridley, and whatever the hell you are, you’re not making it down to Earth.”
I don’t remember much detail after that. It did get uncomfortably hot when we passed the Sun, and then very cold for a very long time. It gets hot every few hundred years on the return pass.
George wasn’t imaginary, after all. Imaginary people don’t die, or decompose. I ejected him on the closest pass we made to Earth. It’s the least I could have done.
I’m not sure what I am. Maybe a clone, or a shapeshifter, maybe I’M imaginary. I’ll never know. But he was right about me not being human. I’d have been long dead by now.
I’m not sure how long I have to wait to die, but the computer still thinks I’ve got a good chance of hitting the sun in around 19,500 years.
I do miss George, though.
|
Day 189:
Space is surprisingly empty. There's a reason it's not called 'full'. The ship's automation pretty much continues to do all of the fun stuff. Collecting data, scanning planets, searching for life. So far my job as a glorified maintenance man has culminated in a wildly exciting five minutes of clearing a rogue chunk of space rock from the main sensor. So much for my dreams of fame and renown as 'Captain Jefferies' of the U.S.S Pinkerton.
Day 233:
The computer won't talk to me anymore. I think I accidentally offended it. How was I to know it was sensitive about not having parents? The silence is deafening. I feel as though I'm becoming trapped within my own mind. Some days I wonder if space truly is just a lifeless void, echoing my loneliness back to me.
Day 355:
I made a friend today. The computer hasn't said a word in months. It's still functioning perfectly so I can only assume that is a personal choice. Luckily Bob is highly talkative. Turns out we have almost everything in common. He likes 90s pop punk just like me. His favourite movie is Armageddon. He hates reading (honestly why would you sit and read words when you could watch magic unfold in real time). He's the perfect guy.
Day 412:
Bob told me the best joke today. I daren't repeat it on the record but I was in stitches. I had to really try hard not to wet myself, the last thing I needed was trying to clean that up in zero g. He has such a good sense of humour. I have to say though, his smiles never quite seem to meet his eyes.
Day 590:
We should be returning to sub station 14 soon. Only a few more months to go. I asked Bob what he would do once we got home. His reply, "I am home.". He's such a good friend. Almost like a brother to me at this point. Part of me worries that he will remain on the ship after the mission ends. I hope he will come with me though. I don't care what anyone says, he saved my life up here. I owe him.
Day 630:
Less than 100 days to go now. The time has really started to fly now that we're in the home stretch. Bob's gotten awfully quiet. We don't quite have as much fun together as we used to. I don't think he's looking forward to leaving. I think I'm going to ask him to come and live with me. He needs to know that the space he has filled will revert to a Bob sized hole in my heart if he leaves.
Day 721:
We should have disembarked by now. Instead we've been put on indefinite hold by mission control. Bob seems nervous. I told him that everything will be fine. I wish I could convince myself.
Day 730:
Mission control made contact today. "We can't let you dock. We've got two life sign readings here," They told us. I tried to explain that it was because of both Bob and myself. They didn't understand though. They asked to speak to Bob but he was sleeping. I told them to try again tomorrow.
Day 731:
A shuttle approaches. They're coming. Bob betrayed me. I shouldn't have let him speak to mission control. It seems that they know him. Captain Bob Jefferies they called him. They asked lots of questions. He didn't tell them we were friends. He didn't explain how close we'd become. How we had saved each other. Instead he spoke lies of an alien entity commandeering his ship. Of being held hostage for most of the mission. Of me.
Day 740:
Bob can't speak anymore. None of them can. They came to kill me. But nobody can kill me. I don't understand. I only came because of their message. They called for me. Asked for others to seek them out. I hear others calling now. A thousand voices from millions of lightyears away calling for signs of life. For proof they're not alone in an empty universe.
Maybe I'll go and say hello.
Visit /r/SpooksScribbles for more
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jdt943l
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jdsu8es
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[WP] Years ago, your mentor said, "Kid, there's a small secret when it comes to magic. You can literally make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who actually take it seriously really pissed off." Today, you're one of the least respected, and most powerful, mages in the land.
|
Iso Mito, a great mage, sits cross-legged before a menacing vault. His hands move in practiced, precise formations, his finger tips glow faintly blue as his mind picks it’s way through the locked door. A bead of sweat gathers on his forehead and streams down his chin into his lap.
This is hard work.
He is given the most critical job—he’s the most tenured mage on the team, after all—the job of cracking the most expertly shielded vault in all of Kantaban. And the vault’s defenses are high for a reason, for within the vault sits the most closely coveted spells in all the land.
To get past the vault’s defenses requires the brightest magical mind, one intimately familiar with runic and intentional magic, one able to call upon an encyclopedic knowledge of defense spells and their associated counter spells.
A mind like Iso Mito’s.
In the room with Iso, defending his back, is Hal Miter, another mage. Hal’s leg bounces in anticipation, betraying his impatience with the process. He watches on as Iso continues on in a workman like manner.
“How is Iso progressing, Hal?” asks Fin Baker, group leader, through the ether. Hal hears Fin’s voice as his own within his mind.
“As best I can tell, he’s cracked the first runic guard but has yet to proceed to the second order defense. At this pace we’re going to get caught,” replies Hal silently.
“Patience, young one,” says Fin. “We have planned for this. We have time. You are there to provide protection and support. The rest of us have done our part. Iso should have all the time he needs.”
“Whatever you say,” says Hal.
To say that Hal is bored is an understatement. Fin often chides Hal for his lack of patience.
“Success should be hard fought, the result of tedious study and slavish devotion to the craft,” says Fin at any given one-on-one training session.
To which Hal inevitably replies, “Fuck that. I’m not going to be slavishly devoted to anything.”
Or Fin has been known to say, “Magic works best when treated as the intersection of intention and practice.”
To which Hal replies, “Nope. I don’t give a shit how it works. What I care about are results. And, oh baby, you bet your sweet ass I get results.”
So it was no surprise to Hal that he was given the least critical role for the mission. He was given Iso babysitting duty while the rest of the team worked hard to ensure that Hal’s role would not be needed.
“What a fun job,” thinks Hal to himself.
Was it Hal’s fault that magic came naturally to him? The rest of the group viewed him as dangerous, a loose cannon. To Hal’s mind that was simply because they were jealous of his gifts. Hal knew in his heart that he could open the vault more quickly and more effectively than Iso ever could.
Alas, he was not afforded the opportunity.
Hal hears footsteps in the corridor. That’s odd. No one had alerted him they were coming.
“Fin, I hear footsteps just outside our antechamber. You send reinforcements?” says Hal.
“Shit,” replies Fin. “It’s not one of us. Hal, you listen to me and you listen good, do not engage unless they do. We’re too close to blow this whole thing because you’re trigger-happy. You stay still and only engage if Iso’s life is in danger. Am I clear?”
“Yes, Fin,” says Hal petulantly.
“Hal, I mean it. Do. Not. Engage,” says Fin knowing fully well that his meticulously planned mission was about to go tits-up.
Hal turns to Iso, still seated before the vault door, fingers still pulsing a faint blue. Hal taps him on the shoulder to see if he’ll respond.
Nothing.
Hal knows better than to bother Iso while casting, but some part of him wants to warn Iso of what’s about to happen. He taps again.
Nothing.
The footsteps grow louder.
“Fuck it!” Curses Hal under his breath. “Bring it on, big boy.” Hal readies himself, his back to Iso. He spreads his legs wide and raises both hands in anticipation.
The footsteps have now paused just outside the door. The antechamber door creaks as it opens. Hal sees a flash of the crimson robes worn by the Kantaban guard. He knows he has no choice but to strike now.
As the door swings open Hal begins casting, unthinking and natural. He says words that mean nothing in his tongue but that carry with them the force of a magical codex.
“Kowabunga hang ha!” He cries aloud as a wave forms before him and swallows the Kantaban guard at the doorway. The force of the wave sends the guard tumbling down the corridor.
Hal just makes out another 5 guards wading through the now knee deep water. He’s bought some time, but not enough to allow Iso to crack the vault. He knows he has to act fast.
Hal scans the doorway and screams the first words that come to his mind. “Entranco no passo!” A black mass rises from the bottom of the doorway and slams against the top of the door jamb.
“That’ll hold them for maybe five minutes,” Hal says aloud.
“Hal, what the hell is happening down there?” says Fin.
“Kantaban Guards. A lot of them,” replies Hal. “I’ve sealed the door, but it won’t hold long. I need to help Iso get through the vault asap.”
“Do not interfere! For the love of all that is holy you do not interfere with Iso. The consequences could be catastrophic,” orders Fin.
“If I don’t do something both Iso and I are royally fucked, Fin,” replies Hal, “and I think you and I both know I don’t mean that metaphorically.”
“Hal, please, don’t do anything rash,” says Fin.
“Rash is my middle name,” says Hal as he turns to the vault.
______
Part two in the next comment. r/InMyLife42Archive
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"There's nobody with a more punchable face than Harold."
"Harold... if he fell in a market, somebody would probably kick him for good measure."
"I don't wish death on the guy, but I wish he'd fuck off for a while."
These were the sentiments of residents of the Tower, a place both for cutting edge magical research and exploring ancient tomes on forgotten magics. There was plenty of information to be uncovered, prestige to be had, and... yadda yadda. Really, who gave two shits besides the pompous assholes that called themselves Tower Mages?
I'll never forget the lesson my mentor gave me when I was younger. He was viewed as a swindler and no-good mage, but he leaned in not two minutes after getting his ass beat in by thugs sent by the Tower to tell me, "Kid, there's a small secret when it comes to magic. You can literally make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who actually take it seriously really pissed off."
There was a part of me that wondered if nursing the wounds of this crazy young mage was worth it, but he offered to teach me magic as gratitude for my caring for him. The result? Well, I learned that magic was in everything, and that at its most foundational level, we were all magic. Even smaller than we could see or imagine, we were magic.
"What about the words of power?" I remember asking, and my mentor scoffed at me.
"Don't forget what I told you, Harold, it doesn't matter. What is magic?"
"Energy directed by intent."
"What is the Tower?"
"A load of shit," I said proudly at six. Twenty years later, my mentor was right: they were still a load of shit.
Unlike my mentor, wherever he went, I had no issue with using magic on the "innocent" mercenaries that were sent to "teach me a lesson." I didn't *kill* them of course, but...
One charged at me from behind while I walked down the street and I announced, "Bubble." The sound of his feet approaching came to a suddenly halt and I stood still as he collided with the invisible barrier that surrounded me.
I wasn't going to take any hits. I wasn't my mentor.
I turned to face the mercenary in question, a balding man with a scarred eye. He climbed to his feet and took a few steps back cautiously. When I opened my mouth, he must have assumed a spell was coming, because he made a run for it.
"... boo."
*Maybe it's time I visit the Tower after all.*
|
k5eojuf
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k5dbekq
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[WP] You are a supervillain who commands most of the criminal underground, after being placed behind bars the heroes come to you for answers when crime shoots up by 60 percent.
|
I was sleeping soundly when a loud and metalic noise filled my cell. Outside, a guard was hitting the bars of my cell with his baton.
''Wake up prisoner! Seems like Wonder wants have a little chat with you.'' He said with a mocking tone.
I wasn't suprised at all. It was a matter of time before they'd come to see me here, rotting in a cell. It had been only a few days since my incarceration and yet even I had heard the news. Crime was at it's best since they put me away.
I obliged without any complains. I got up of my bed and followed the guard in the dark allays of the prison. We entered a small room similar to an interogation one. Inside Wonder was waiting, sitting on an old metalic chair, worry written all over his face. It was easy to tell he was lacking sleep, this was gonna be fun.
As I entered the room I smiled at him in silence before greeting him.
''I salute you, oh great Wonder, oh great hero!'' I sarcastically said, bowing to him in a funny gesture.
He answered me, seemingly displeased and annoyed: ''Drop the act and sit, right now.''
He was always sucking all the fun of the game, but there was nothing I could do but oblige again to this.
''I'm listening to you'' I slowly answered, sitting down on the other side of the metalic table '' what are you here to mock me for? I was sleeping you know.''
He letted a sight go. '' I won't go by all four roads, what was that wicked plan of yours?''
I let out a small laugh, amused by his reaction: ''I'm afraid you will need to be more precise my dear'' I said tossing a wick of hair on the side, ''I had a load of them, you of all people should know.'' I was playing with him, I wanted to hear it from him, the desperation.
Then it happened. He jumped out of his seat, his face distorted by anger. ''I told you not to play games with me! You damn well know what I'm talking about! Already 30 000 innocents died in the last week, crime rate went up 60% and it's chaos out there. I will repeat myself clearly this time. WHAT. IN. THE. GODAMN HELL. DID. YOU. DO?''
I looked at him for a second, with more pitty than amusement in my eyes. I let out a sight and a little laugh, wearing my best innocent face. "Oh but darling, it is not me you should be asking this but yourself. What did you do? After all, I'm not the one who let them people die. It's your job to save them after all."
"What I did?" He answered, his face red and his hands trambling. "What do you think I've been doing all week? Did you created them villains? Did you found some way to creat super abilities?"
It was delightfull, but the game was during long enough. A little more and I was sure he was going to blow this place off. I looked at him kindly then shaked my head in dissapointment.
"I have one question for you Wonder, what as always been my only constent since you know me?"
He looked at me, seemingly confused. "Constent? What constent? You are pure chaos, you do every little thing that cross your mind if it'll make you laugh even for a second. There is no constent in your action, this is on of the main reason that made you so hard to stop, you are unpredictable."
Again, I was a little dispointed in him, after all these year he couldn't see it. "Oh Wonder, can't you even see it? I'm a crowd freak. Haven't you ever realised how I praised the spotlight? This is the trill you know, playing game with the greatest hero while being lowly me. This is not an easy thing you know."
He looked even more confused. "What does that have to do with it?"
"Oh god" I sight "You are not the brightest, are you?" I looked at him for a moment. "You see, I'm not like all you supers. I don't have super strenght, or super speed or super whatever, but my brain, oh my brain is super smart. This is how I was able to compete with you and creat all these weird and chaotic plans. Sure I could have just kill everyone long ago, but where is the fun in that? No, it's you I wanted to play with, you were the main character, the finale act, the cherry on top. All this, it was all but a big scene. Why do you think I avoided high density area and historical monuments? You can't go all out when people are in danger. Now think about it, why do you think nothing big was happening in the city apart from me?"
I saw it then in it's eyes, he understood, at least a little, where I was getting at. He babbled a little. "Y..You don't mean to say what I think."
"Yes Wonder, it is. You see, you and I, we are part of a system. The people will always need a hero to feel safe, to feel protected. But in order for a hero to exist, someone like me need to be there, a villain. Yes, during all these years, I was the one making sure this city was somewhat safe. After all, I am a crowd freak, there was no way I was gonna let some all talk small villain make the front sheet."
"So you stopped all this chaos in order to get the front sheet?"
"I did want the spotlight yes, but I actually wanted you to be the hero for them that I didn't have as a kid. I couldn't be it, so I figured I could creat it, I could creat you. All I did was to have the spotlight yes, but in someway it was for you to be the spotlight of all the kids."
|
"You fools..." I whispered from my cage, my words rising in volume until i belloewd them. "Utter, utter fools!" The members of the SJD turned to me, some with anger, others with mere annoyance.
"What did you do?" Asked a familiar voice.
"Ah, so I didn't kill you in our last bout? What a shame."
Director Higgins came about, wheelchair bound from a rather glorious spat.
"You of all people should know no plan survives first contact." I spoke. "We both did serve in Iraq, did we not, director?"
"What we did in Iraq was liberate, what you are doing is murder, theft and butchery."
"All we liberated was the innocent from their bodies, whilst my own people lounged about, lazy and uncaring."
Here I could see his rage spiking. I obviously knew many opposed the phony war we were sent to, however at the time, I couldn't separate the people from the politician's who sent me. To me they were one in the same.
"Explain." Another voice gritted.
"Well, we all knew someday I would be caught and tied up, or even killed in a more sane world, so I have contingencies in place to make sure my agenda is met."
"What age-" the Director was cut off by my hands against the cell's window. I cackled with a sick joy at their supposed innocence.
"You idiots!" I bellowed yet again "we've been at it for almost ten years, and you still don't get it? I want to watch the people who were responsible for my suffering writhe and contort just as my friends had, as my lover had..." I sank into a somber trance, before regaining my senses.
"How do we stop it." Question the other voice again, this time revealing himself to be the Maori.
"You don't." I answered "it won't stop, until I'm free. And don't even think of trying to kill me, unless you would like all this crime to take a rather nasty turn."
The Maori and Director seemed expectant of my answer, and turned away before soundproofing my high-tech zoo enclosure. All I could do now was sleep and think, and that's all I did for all my imprisonment.
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juqdeau
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juouxts
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[WP] You were sure your girlfriend knew your secret identity, so you were happy to flirt with her both in and out of costume. But today she confessed to cheating on you. With you.
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"Okay, walk that by me one more time. You've been...cheating on me? With who?"
I watched the tears well up in her eyes again. She had been crying all afternoon and wouldn't talk to me, and the moment she finally approached me I went still in case I spooked her like her cat. She finally made the confession in between desperate gasps of air, so I gave her a few minutes to visibly relax before I responded.
"W-With V...Vanguard." She let out another startled gasp as my eyes widened in surprise. But I wasn't surprised because she said my superhero name; I was surprised because I thought she had figured it out.
But she took my shock the other way, and began to speak so fast I couldn't interrupt. "I know, Vanguard, right? How could a nobody like me meet him? But you don't understand, he flirted with me first using that same cheesy line you used and it just- UGH! Right through my damn heart. I never thought I'd fall for that dumb line twice, let alone once, but FUCK that armor looks so good on him. Every time I pull up a video of him flying around on Youtube I get so-"
"Wait!" I interrupted, confused. Mostly because I haven't even touched her as Vanguard. Any time I had moved closer since she first saw me in costume a month ago, she backed away subtly. I let her have her space after I tried to get closer twice. "What do you mean you've cheated on me with him? What have you done?"
"Well...I mean, it was just the talking and the flirting. But, I feel this strong attachment to him and it's tearing me apart that I still feel the same way about you! I know we've been dating for a year, but at this point it's practically an affair of the heart and-"
"Stop," I said with a solid tone. It took her a moment, but she let the words die on her lips. "I want you to just take a minute to get some deep breaths in. I have a response to what you've said, but I want you to take a moment and just try to feel better. Please?"
I gave her my best puppy-dog eyes, and she nodded even as she began to cry again. *Crap, probably shouldn't have done the cute thing when she's already this sad about thinking she cheated on me.* It took another few minutes, during which I made us a pot of coffee. She nearly began crying again when she could smell I made her favorite flavor, but by the time I handed her the cup *(not in her favorite cup, that would just make her feel worse)* she was sitting and breathing normally.
"Okay. Firstly, flirting isn't necessarily cheating."
"It is! Affairs of the heart are just as serious-"
"Hang on, let me explain. Your brother, Greg, is in a polyamorous relationship, right?"
"Uh huh," she nodded.
"Do you think he started dating them both at the same time? No. He started by dating Charlie, and then they mutually added Kyle after he expressed interest in Charlie."
"Okay..." She seemed to be thinking deeply as she took a sip, so I finished the thought.
"The difference is communication. Charlie told Greg about Kyle on day one, so they were able to set boundaries together."
"But I didn't tell you, so I-"
"Babe, hang on."
She stopped and nodded, taking another sip before setting the coffee down.
"Secondly, you didn't need to tell me because I thought you had it figured out."
The confusion on her face had me almost bursting out laughing. "Figured...what out?"
The amusement erupted from my face in a grin that nearly hurt my cheeks. I let out Vanguard's golden Aura of Protection and said the line for a third time. "Well, I'm here. What are your other two wishes?" I would later be glad that she was sitting and had set the hot coffee down, given that she passed out right on the spot.
|
In a confusing twist, my girlfriend confessed she was cheating on me... with me. I was both the other man and the boyfriend. She loved the secret hero and the everyday guy, not realizing they were the same person. I felt a weird mix of anger and amusement.
I was jealous of my own secret identity, the hero she fell for. She had no clue that the man she was cheating on was the very same man she was cheating with. As I sat there, shadows stretching across the room, I couldn't help but laugh at how messed up it all was.
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j6f5sg9
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j6emwiz
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[WP] The person you're dating comes to dinner to meet your family. But the instant you step in the door, your grandmother goes deathly pale, and shouts the name of a creature from her country's folklore.
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I had been dreading dinner for weeks now. The family dinner that would inevitably end up with someone either drunk or crying. Maybe both. Our family dinners didn't exactly have a great track record.
*Especially* when I'd bring the current person I was seeing.
The last guy I'd been dating, an engineer named Trevor, had left the dinner halfway through because my grandma had claimed that he was possessed by a *vodyanoy*, a male water spirit that was known to drown people. Why did she think that, you ask?
Well, he had a tattoo of waves on his forearm, which she had interpreted as a demon’s mark. Because having just having a *normal*, non-demonic tattoo apparently wasn’t possible.
Anyways, that wasn’t the first time my grandma had made comments like that. She had this fun quirk of thinking anyone I dated was either cursed or possessed. Something that definitely didn’t help my already-dry dating life.
So, after years of failed relationships and being ghosted after family dinners, I decided to try a new method: don’t introduce anyone to my family. Ever.
And that had worked well for the past year. I’d managed to stay in a relationship longer than a few months. We were even planning on moving into an apartment together in the next-coming months. Everything was going well.
So of course, it only made sense that my family would plead and beg to finally meet him. After weeks of my mom’s constant nagging over the phone, I finally gave in. I’d bring him for dinner.
Briefly. No longer than an hour. Because after an hour meant that my mom would start asking her embarrassing drunken questions and my grandma would start theorizing which demon he was.
I was determined for this dinner to work out.
“It’ll be fine,” Nate had said, trying to comfort me as we drove. He squeezed my knee a she was driving.
“That’s what you think,” I frowned. “You haven’t been there to witness my grandma’s odd fixation on Russian folklore.”
“Well, lucky for her, I love learning about folklore.” I didn’t say anything, envying his positivity. The positivity that would be gone within an hour’s time.
We arrived at my grandma’s house later than I had promised. I hoped that dinner would be ready and it would cut out some of the time spent talking with my family. My mom answered the door with a smile. “Alexis! And this must be Nate. It’s great to finally meet you.”
She pulled us both in for a hug.
“Sorry we’re late,” I apologize. “There was some traffic.”
“There wasn’t traffic,” Nate said. I shot him a look. “Oh! You mean *that* traffic. I almost forgot about it. Yeah, it was bad. *Really* bad.”
We walked inside. My grandma was already sitting at the table, waiting. Warm food was steaming on the table. I kissed her on the cheek before sitting down. “This looks great, *baba*.”
She said nothing, her eyes narrowing at Nate as he sat down. He gave her a nervous hello. *This is only the beginning*, I thought with a sigh.
“Let’s start,” my mom said, joining us at the table. We began serving food onto our plate. My grandma continued to shoot odd glances in Nate’s direction as she ate. I could feel him eyeing me, *a bit weird*, his eyes seemed to say. I gave him a knowing look.
*I told you so.*
We ate in silence. I prayed that it’d last. But it never did. “You brought a unique one this time, Alexis,” my grandma said.
“Can we not start this now?” I asked. It was too early and I was far too sober.
“Nate,” she continued. “Have you ever felt drawn to, or I suppose a kinship towards vampires?”
He swallowed his food, confused. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You carry the aura of a *besomer*.” She put some food into her mouth and chewed it. “A very dangerous demon.”
“Grandma—” I started to say but Nate stopped me, putting a hand on my shoulder.
“What kind of demon is that?” He asked. His voice had lowered. There was a darkness in his gaze that I’d never seen before.
“Hm, I think you know.” They were staring at each other. The table suddenly felt tense. I looked over at my mom who was uncomfortably draining her wine.
“I’m not sure I do.” His fingers dug into my shoulder. That’s starting to hurt, I thought.
“They tend to enjoy darkness,” my grandma said. “And a craving for blood. It’s no wonder you latched on our Alexis. She’s got the blood of our family’s ancestors. *Pure* blood.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Nate said. He released my arm. I could still feel the ghost of his grip even after it was gone. “Although, I'm sad to admit you’ve got the *wrong* type of demon.”
His eyes flashed. “I’m far worse than any *besomer*.”
|
"KUMIHO!"
I stared almost blankly at my grandmother, who was pointing at my girlfriend, Carmen. Something had occurred between them, since it wasn't normal for my grandmother to be this worked up about something, however she was angry. Very angry. Soon, Carmen showed the exact same fury, however she held back.
"Oh, so every single kitsune with Korean ancestry is automatically a fucking kumiho in your eyes, huh?! You racist piece of shit!"
"You will not take my son's liver! Get out! Get out you murdering piece of—"
"That's enough!" my grandpa shouted. "Honey, you're scaring the guest. The least you could do is offer her something to eat, such as the leftover fried tofu I'm heating up."
He was wise enough to not mention that it was a way to tell kitsune apart from kumiho. And, of course, Carmen's eyes sparkled at the mere mention of fried tofu. My grandmother left the room, grumbling to herself. My grandfather, however, pulled up a few more chairs before bowing to Carmen.
"Please forgive my wife's rudeness. As careful as she is, this was completely uncalled for. Should I make some tea for us?"
"Yes, please," Carmen replied, feeling a bit more relaxed and letting her 9 tails show. "I understand why your wife wasn't very kind towards me, but she really should be more careful with spotting a kumiho."
"I can't blame her, she often had to fight them off in the past. She'll warm up to you soon enough."
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j9pa01g
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j9p7659
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[WP] As it turns out, this dragon had never killed anyone before, nor did it plan to, it was frightened and acted in self-defence. Now the party will have to figure out what to do with the hyperventilating beast while the cleric revives the murderhobo fighter
|
The party had experienced its fair share of setbacks, but Bridget had never seen an adventure go to hell so quickly. In hindsight, they had bitten off more than they could chew in trying to infiltrate the lair of a dragon.
First, Kaz couldn't resist pulling at a bejeweled scepter and set off a cascade of gold coins that woke the dragon from its slumber. Then Jorg immediately raised his enormous battleaxe and attacked, only to get swept into the wall by its tail and croak on the spot. The only silver lining was that the dragon didn't seem inclined to attack the rest of them, pacing across the lair and growling under its breath as it was. If anything it seemed... panicked.
Elein the Druidess looked up at the dragon thoughtfully. "I don't think it wants to fight us." She took a step toward it, and before Bridget's disbelieving eyes, the enormous creature *recoiled*. "I'm casting Commune."
"Don't waste a spell trying to communicate with the beast!" Kaz sputtered, his gaze flicking between the dragon and the exit, a throwing dagger in his trembling hand. "We should get out of here while we can."
"Shut up. It's your greed that got us into this mess in the first place." Bridget took a deep breath and nodded. "Do it, Elein."
Elein raised her staff, a string of elven flowing melodiously from her lips. All at once, the dragon's growls turned into a frantic, girlish voice.
"So squishy, why did the human have to be so squishy," she blabbered. "Am I in trouble? Stupid Nedreya, of course you are! You'll be hounded by dragon-hunters to the ends of the world, all because you freaked out instead of staying calm like mother taught you!"
The party exchanged wide-eyed looks.
"Noble Nedreya," Elein began.
"*Aargh*! You scared me. Calm down, calm down. Don't want to accidentally squish more of them." The dragoness took a deep breath that ruffled Elein's long hair. "You understand me?"
"All of us do." The druidess paused for a moment. "Am I to understand that you wish us no harm?"
"Why would I wish harm upon perfect strangers? You simply scared the stuffing out of me!" Tears pooled in Nedreya's enormous golden eyes. "Why would you do that? Why barge into my home and aim your sharp weapons at me?"
Elein shifted guiltily, opening her mouth, only to close it again and look at the others for guidance. Kaz just shrugged.
"We can talk about that later," Bridget hedged. Approaching Jorg's corpse, she laid her hand on his forehead. "His soul hasn't gone far. I should be able to recall it."
"T-the human's going to be all right?" Nedreya asked, leaning closer.
"If I work quickly. A moment of silence if you will."
"Yes, of course! I'll be quiet as a hare in its lair. *Ooh*, it rhymed!" The dragoness winced. "Sorry, you asked for silence. Please perform your magic. I'll watch quietly. Um, sorry again."
Bridget exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. The dragoness's agitated babble faded away, as did the rest of the world, as she briefly touched the unfathomable being of her god. Cracking open her eyes an indeterminate time later, she saw that Jorg's broken bones were knitting, and life was returning to his glassy eyes.
"He's returning," she said, sitting back wearily. "You two, please hold him down before—"
Jorg's head jerked up, his gaze flicking around wildly, then centering upon the dragoness who was watching the resurrection with bated breath. "Foul dragon!" he cried, bolting to his feet. "To arms, my friends!" With a roar, he hefted his axe and leapt at the dragoness.
"Jorg, don't!" Elein cried, stretching her hand toward him.
"D-don't point that thing at me!" Nedreya squeaked, falling back on her haunches.
"The beast fears me!" Jorg laughed, raising his axe for an overhead blow.
"Eeek!" Closing her eyes, Nedreya blindly stomped her clawed foot as a delicate lady would at a cockroach.
There was a wet crunch, then sudden silence. The dragoness raised her bloodied foot and stared. "Not again! Why does this keep happening? *Ugh*, I've got human all over me! Get it off, get it off!" She shook her foot, spraying blood and gore over the party.
"Goddammit," Bridget muttered, wiping her face with the back of her hand.
|
"Oh by George, he's dead. He's dead, isn't he? Oh, I killed him, oh Bant and Lung, I'm a killer. Oh, please, what do I do?"
"Nyugodt," Sinter called, gently strumming his mandolin. I could see the arcane energy reach out to calm the beast. It's breath slowed and it's muscles relaxed. Then it began sobbing.
"What are we looking at?" I asked Dorcas. She was a cleric, our healer. And right then, she was handling Kingsley's idiot corpse. The moron had rushed in, shouting, at the poor beast. It had tried to scramble up the wall and escape, but he caught its tail with his axe. Looked like a reflexive swipe that sent him flying across the cavern.
"Don't think there's an unbroken bone in his body. If I try to bring him back now, he'll be in pain, which he deserves, but he'll also probably die again, which makes it a waste. We had a plan, what was he doing?"
"No idea," I replied, knowing exactly what he was doing: being as big a prick as usual. "So we cart him back to the temple."
"You carrying him to the cart?"
"Hey, Sinter, you wanna—Oh COME ON! Where are your pants?"
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jbftxky
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jbfrmq8
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[WP] You aided the humans in the demon war, they called you the traitor demon , your only request was that they never forget what you did for them. But after your "death" they were quick to brand every demon as bad, evil. your name was forgotten, images of you changed to show just another human.
|
Tonight, we shall tell a tale of hubris. The *humans* were once pushed to the brink. Battered and beaten, they were pushed to the edges of their civilization. Barricaded in their cities as our battlements battered their walls. They couldn’t fight, they couldn’t run, they couldn’t hide. All they could do was die.
They were terrified, those pathetic things. Most of them would escape us, moving into the plane that belonged to our counterparts, but there were a good number of them vile enough that we got them much faster than we would’ve if we’d just waited for them to die. Why settle for a trickle when you could have a waterfall?
That was until, of course, He came to them. He was not the strongest of us, nor the most skilled with magic, nor was he particularly gifted with intelligence, but his tongue, his tongue was the vilest of us all. He came to men with an offer. He would guide them – lead them even. He would tell them our weaknesses, our flaws, our plans, such that they could not just survive but win. The humans saw him as a traitor his own kind. They didn’t fear a trick, for of course, why would we trick them? A few more years and they’d be all but w3iped out anyways. They had nothing to lose.
Traitor he was, but he was still a demon. He demanded a price. A simple one really, but one humanity was bound by the Old Words that predated us and our counterparts, fundamental to the world itself. That they would not forget him, if he did succeed.
The humans agreed.
So it was that the tide turned. Slowly at first, in places the humans thought we didn’t expect. He saw patterns in our defenses that the men did not, until he pointed them out, so the humans could press their advantage. And so, slowly at first, but then gaining speed – for that is how these things go – the human advance picked up momentum, pushing us back and back and back till we were forced back though our portals back to our realms, banished. The only revenge the humans thought we had was that we dragged the Traitor Demon back with us.
Time went on, the humans, of course, changed the tales. They are fickle things, determined, dumb, and filled with pride. They could never accept salvation from a source so reviled. So it was only natural that the so called Traitor Demon changed. Changed in their tales from Demon to half-demon to man to ang– our counterparts. Malice at first but then just forgetfulness. The humans forgot the one who had brought them back from the brink of extinction.
But the universe did not forget. A vow given in the old words is passed down from the giver to his descendants to their descendants in turn, and so all the humans, every single one, had broken their word.
A vow given to a demon, if written in the Old Words was broken, well, their soul was forfeit.
And so, where our generals and warriors waged war across a planet to get a fraction of the souls we killed, I, without lifting a sword, have brought our realm every single human soul that has and will ever live.
Traitor demon indeed…
|
Humanity is a fickle bedfellow. I understood that before I made my choice. As a rule, their memories are malleable and short, their loyalties are pliable and fleeting, and their propensity for story-telling rarely works in favor of the other.
Still, there was something about them worth preserving, worth sacrificing for.
“And why should we trust you, demon?” Said General Faust.
“I am intimately familiar with the inner workings of the demonic war machine,” I replied. “If your kind is to have any hope in a conflict with the denizens of Hell, you have no choice but to trust me.”
“I don’t like it,” said an adviser.
“What choice do we have?” Said the General.
“It would be so easy for you to betray your kind? Just like that?” The adviser asked me.
“You’ve clearly never met a demon before,” I said with a devious smile.
The war against humanity was short-sighted and foolish—the end result of an eons long power struggle for the throne of Hell. The new Demon King, Malstar the Dubious, had made too many promises, cut too many deals, and therefore, had painted himself into such a tenuous position of ‘power’ that the only move available to him was to act rashly and lash out against any perceived enemy.
But the humans were never truly our enemy—they were a means to an end.
“For a time, you must adhere to a puritanical set of moral standards,” I explained in the human Situation Room. “The demonic powers feed upon your sinful nature. The only way to overcome their superior fire power is to lay siege upon their resources. They can only last so long while starved for sin.”
“But—but how?” Asked General Faust. “We are creatures of sin. We are born sinful from our very neonatal shrieks. How are we to deny our very nature in pursuit of victory?”
“Ah, but that is what we demons would like you to believe, friends,” I said. “We have fooled you into believing that sin is inextricably linked with the essence of humanity. That is not so.”
The room was quiet. I could feel their hope. It’s stench stung my nostrils.
“Then, we have a chance because we are not pure sin?” Asked an adviser meekly.
“Quite the contrary, my human brethren,” I said. “You have a chance because you are holy.”
Just as human memories are malleable, so too are their self-images. All it took was a nudge for humanity writ large to believe themselves beyond reproach, above the filth of sin and sinfulness, hovering far above the reach of lowly demons.
And so the demonic war effort began to falter. After the seventh day of a sinless world, Malstar summoned Faust and me for peace talks.
“I will not negotiate with such a being!” Said Faust sharply.
“And yet, you have collaborated with one to great success, human,” said Malstar. “How true to your nature you are—hypocrisy and contradiction to the end. That is what you are.”
“Enough. The both of you,” I scolded. “We are here to set terms of ceasefire. “Malstar, present your offer.”
“Very well,” began Malstar. “We shall retain soul brokerage rights, as well as temptation, possession, and the myriad other deadly sins. However, we will refrain from outright physical harm including but not limited to maiming, mauling, murder, impaling, disemboweling, decapitation, and any other appendage removal mechanism. In exchange, humanity returns to its sinful ways, banishes the puritanical methodology as heresy, and returns to pre-war relations with demonic entities including cross-road deals, and the Hell-to-U.S. Senate pipeline.”
“That is not even close to sufficient!” Said Faust beside himself. “I thought we were here to be serious. This offer is a farce.”
I took Faust aside. “This is a negotiation, Faust,” I said patiently. “He shoots for the moon in the hopes that, when he misses, you give him the clouds. Counter his offer. You forget that demons are expert deal-makers.”
We returned to the negotiation. “We will agree to the continuation of three of the seven deadly sins—only Lust, Wrath, and Gluttony may return to the Earthly domain. You may retain soul brokerage rights and the resultant ‘cross roads deals’ so long as said deals are certified like-kind exchanges; that is, you may not bargain a soul for consideration worth less than said soul. You will refrain from physically harming humans, and possession is off the table. We can agree to the Hell-to-U.S. Senate pipeline—that one just makes sense.”
“We’re not too far off after all,” said Malstar with a smile. “I can’t agree to anything less than four deadly sins. Pride needs to be restored as well—that’s a deal breaker. I can agree to the like-kind exchange stipulation so long as we agree to no cap on the abilities we are able to grant in such an exchange.”
Faust considered this offer with a furrowed brow. “We can agree to these terms.”
I had done it. Brokered a peace between demon and human that sustained both and upheld the natural order. The continuation of one relied upon the continuation of the other, surely the denizens of Hell would understand my betrayal when they became aware of the terms of the bargain.
“One other thing,” said Malstar before shaking hands with General Faust. “I hope I’m not pressing my luck, but there is the small matter of the traitor. If you return him to us, I will make it worth your while.”
Faust looked at me and then back at Malstar. “I couldn’t possibly give him up. He’s been invaluable to our cause. It wouldn’t be right. I cannot.”
“I will grant you supreme knowledge and power—you will reign over the Earth for the remainder of your humanly life,” said Malstar with the practiced tone of an expert broker.
Faust considered this deal for a moment before he spoke; the unmistakeable glimmer of Pride and Lust flashed in his eyes. “I can agree to these terms. He’s just a demon after all.”
Malstar smiled wide and gripped General Faust’s outstretched hand. “We have a deal, human.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised. As I said, humanity is a fickle bedfellow.
_____
Edited my original comment to tack on the remainder of the story r/InMyLife42Archive
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jmazkdc
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jmak0jq
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[WP] For as long as all the races have known, Dragons have been seen as violent, destructive creatures. After an attack on your village, you black out and find yourself in the den of a dragon. It's rather annoyed that that is how they're seen, and wants to prove that isn't the case.
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The searing fires blazed throughout the village as the people ran, and my dreams of an idyllic digital nomad life quite literally went up in flames.
I stumbled as I fled from the fire, lacking the grace of a swan and mucking about like an ungainly mannequin with three left legs. My glasses fell from my face when I tripped over a rock, but there wasn't time to bend down and feel for them on the ground.
The billowing black smoke engulfed the air, filling my lungs and choking the breath out of me. My eyes were tearing as my surroundings grew hazy, and my vision obscured, slowly turning to black before me.
Feeling fur all around me, I opened my eyes to find myself wrapped in bearskin and a huge lizard's snout poking through a hole in the cave I was situated in.
"Greetings fragile fleshbag! I am Frosterley, the ice dragon! You look alive!"
As abject fear consumed me, I began rambling in a marketing spiel as my life counted on it. "Please dont eat me, don't kill me! I can work for you! I'm a remote marketing executive, I can spread the word of your glorious destruction and awe-inspiring power!"
His huge eyes blinked.
"That sounds cool, little fleshbag. But I'm not interested in that portrayal."
"No...? How about a cold and imposing mountain of unyielding ice and frost for your public image? Just tell me what you want from me, I will do anything! I will be more useful alive than eaten!"
"You misunderstand me, fleshbag. I'm not a destructive or obsessive gold hoarder, as your mortal stories would say. In fact, I helped put out the fires, chased away the fire elementals who were the real culprits, and brought you here so you can help put a more positive spin to my image. It's so hard to be a nice guy when everyone thinks you are a mindless monster going to kill, destroy, or eat them."
Oh. That's a huge relief.
I told the dragon I was going to need a new pair of glasses and a laptop to get started. In return, his tail tip loaded a few bars of gold through the hole in the cave. Fishing for my handphone in my pockets, I made a few calls to transport and cash in the gold bars, all while chuckling to myself how hypocritical Frosterley was when he said he didn't hoard gold.
My plan was to ride Frosterley into the village, giving the impression he was tamable. With precise, calculated movements to avoid any huge swing of his tail or strong gusts of wind from a simple wing flap, all to exhibit a gentle friendliness. Just as rehearsed in his dragon cave.
With the trust and friendship of the village secured, Frosterley helped with the rebuilding efforts by transporting heavy quantities of construction materials. It wasn't just new homes that were being built, but also a strange new alliance between a small village and their new guardian ice dragon.
Word of my dragon marketing campaign and its success must have gotten around, as I received a phone call from my mom.
"Hey Jerry, I miss you, son. What you did for that dragon, it's on the news. You're famous! And in demand. You see, an old friend of mine, do you remember Uncle Alfred? He has a job offer for you."
I turned down the offer to work at his company once, preferring the freedom of remote work. I would do it again.
"Jerry, you can work remotely or go over to his town. He wants you to know the choice is there."
Cant see how his job offer can beat working for a cool ice dragon, I always loved dragons as a kid, both real and fictional dragons. Like black dragon Kalameet.
"Son, I'm sending you some attachments from Alfred. He's quite confident you'll take this job."
I hope Frosterley doesn't mind me jumping ship and packing my bags, but this Lord Elvari looks like a really cool eldritch god to work for.
---
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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I ran from our hut as the roar echoed throughout the village. A jet of flame erupted over our heads catching the Butcher's home on fire. Another lit the Stable master's. He began rushing horses out and I turned to quickly help him. No sooner had I reached the door before a horse bucked and my world went dark.
I awoke on a pile of soft furs, the warmth of a fire to my left. I slowly started to move before a strong Baritone voice spoke. "Stay still. You took a rather hard hit to the head." I opened my eyes and groaned as the light stabbed at them, causing my head to pound. I closed them and lay silent again, letting the pain subside before I forced them to open again as the blurry world came into focus. I was lying in a cave, next to me was a roaring bonfire. I scooted closer to it, as my tunic was still wet from the mud. I glanced around for whoever had brought me here but saw no one, only the walls of the cave. I silently removed my tunic and did my best to scrape off the wet mud and wring out the remaining. I heard a soft thud behind me as I silently turned. I paled at the sight of a large Amethyst colored dragon. It stared at me and I at it. A dead buck hung limply from its maw. It eyed me silently before, with a flick of its head the dragon through the deer onto the edge of the fire. "I'll let you redress before dinner. Should you desire, there is a stream just outside you can wash in." I stared in fear at the dragon who watched me in return, a look of concern on its face. "Can you... Hear me? Do you understand?" I dumbly nodded. "Ah good. For a moment I feared you were more damaged than I thought. Feel free to go wash. Your food should take a moment." I stood there stunned for a moment longer before slowly walking to the edge of the cave. I exited to find a forest. I gulped. If I was in the forest, It meant I was miles from home. Even if I tried to run the Dragon would find me before I even reached halfway through the forest. I silently washed the mud off myself before looking around for anything I could use as a weapon. I settled on a branch. If I was going to die, I would at least go out fighting. Silently I approached the Cave, my heart pounded in my ears. The Beast was standing near the fire, his back to me. I silently approached, with the Branch raised over my head. With an exhale I hadn't realized I was holding I brought it down on the dragon's head.
"OW! What are you-" I cut the beast off with another swing. The third was caught in his maw. I could feel the vibration of his growl as he eyed me. With a yank, he pulled the branch from my hands and threw it into the fire. I began to kick and punch at the creature but I quickly realized it wasn't having the effect the branch had. Finally, with a snarl, the beast pounced on me, holding me down with a massive forepaw, I gasped for air before feeling tears pool at my eyes. I awaited the death blow as I thought of my mother. What would become of her now? How foolish I'd been to think I would even stand such a chance... The blow however never came instead I heard the dragon speak. "Are you quite finished, Human?" I opened my eyes and glanced at the Dragon. He wore a look of annoyance. "You aren't going to kill me?" A rumble that vaguely sounded like laughter emanated from his chest. "If I were going to kill you I'd have done it already. Besides, why bring you here after you suffered a head injury only to kill you later? Far too much work..." I felt myself still crying before asking "Then why am I here?!" The Dragon silently moved off me turning back to the buck before moving it off the fire. "Because you were hurt. My goal was not to get any of you hurt. I felt obligated to help." I started incredulously at the Dragon. "But you attacked US! What DID you intend?!" The dragon ripped a leg off the deer before tossing it to me. "To stop those who are constantly attacking me." I glanced at him before taking a bite of the deer. The taste was magnificent, as though a master chef had cooked it for me. "I'm well aware of how you see my kind... But... We are not the monsters you think. We simply wish to live our lives. But you and the other races attack us as soon as you find our dens. What are we supposed to do? Sit and wait for the next attack? Or neutralize it?" I sat silently. "I..." I faltered, unsure of what to even say. "And that is how it's been for centuries. Be it the elves, orcs, dwarves... Especially you humans. You are the violent ones, buying into countless stories with little context behind why we act."
I ate more of the Deer before speaking. "Well, From our point of view, your kind constantly attack us! Entire cities have been burned down! Livestock killed by the millions! We need to defend ourselves!" The dragon huffed. "No city has been burnt down in over a century. And any livestock, we see as food. I'm sorry if that offends you, but enclosed stolen meat is better than no meat at all." I scowled. "But why attack our village?! No one spoke a word about you!" The dragon growled. "The ones I burned were dwellings of those who attacked me. Their scent were all over those buildings. I would have been fine living my life here, but you humans seem intent to attack me." I made to make a rebuttal but stopped as I realized that the Dragon was right. I had attacked him for no reason other than fear. "I'm sorry. I was just so scared..." The Dragon glanced at me. "I suppose with the stories your kind passes around it's to be expected. I forgive you um..."
"Arnil. Son of Elric." I said as the Dragon bowed his head. "A pleasure Arnil. You may call me Varin. I forgive you Arnil." We sat silently eating before the dragon stood and stretched. "Let us rest, Arnil. Tomorrow I will take you home." He lay down before motioning I approach. I did so before he raised a wing. "Lay against me. It will be warmer for you." I silently complied, and within moments, I fell asleep.
The next morning, I awoke to Varin returning with a number of fish, and a pawful of Apples. We cooked and ate the fish and I ate a few apples as we talked about our kinds. Each of us asking questions about our daily lives. As the hours ticked by, I came to realize Varin was not the monster we had been taught. He was wise, and caring. A creature that simply wanted peace. In fact, according to him, Humans held many similar stories to that we held for Dragons. When the time came for me to return, Varin instructed me to climb atop his back. I did so, and he took off. I marveled at the forest as it flew underneath us. As we cleared it, I spotted my village mere miles away. It rapidly approached as a thought entered my mind. "Varin, will you stay? Perhaps it will help your kind become more understood." Varin glided through the air momentarily, deep in thought. "I shall. Perhaps we can change both of our stereotypes." Together we flew to the village, hopeful of the future we could attempt to make.
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jvkjt5b
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jvk93jb
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[WP] A cruel prank by your bullies leaves you separated from the rest of the class. Instead of finding your way back, you decide to "go missing" and let the consequences catch up to them.
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There's panic.
I can hear them from my hiding place not far off the trail. My back hurts and I'm bleeding, but I'm otherwise unharmed.
The trail cam on at the lookout saw Liz's 'prank'. It's a live feed, which means there's no hiding what they did. No running to Mrs Phelps, whose been friends with Liz'z parents since school herself. No parents refusing to believe their darling daughter was the ring leader of the nasty little group of bullies. She's just high spirited. She doesn't mean to cause harm. People are just oversensitive. The friends who follow her every plan to bask in the immunity to punishment in tears, panicking over what will happen next.
I know I should step forward, I should let people know I'm okay, but the pain in my back stops me. The sting of the scrapes and the memory of countless time I was hurt and left without help. The students who have stood by and let this happen for fear of the attention being put on them.
I got stuck carrying the supply packs, so I have food and supplies for a few days. I know the back way out, so I start walking. I stay off the road, hidden in the busses as I watch the road and the cars rushing to help with the search. Before leaving, I dumped my jacket and phone in the water. I made sure the phone was drowned before leaving. No way of using it again.
I stop at a rest point, keeping out of view and listening to the people who are passing through. Liz's parent have lawyered up, but it's hard to hide her involvement. Her friends are fighting over the chance to turn on her, trying to avoid ending up in jail.
I'll emerge from the woods soon, but right now I want to ensure something get done. I could have died, and nothing would have been done.
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# Makayla
They told me that the teacher wanted us to do laps. I saw others doing laps. Why should I have questioned them?
As soon as I started, however, everyone started leaving. I was all packed up and *ready* to go, but I still needed to *grab* my things. The teacher must have done the headcount before I was tricked.
Now here I am, alone in the woods, no supplies except my own possessions. The logical thing would be to attempt to catch up to the group.
Logic is for those who wish to get laughed at and made a fool out of. I'd rather risk having to spend the night here, I'll survive, and the bullies will be in a cosmic level amount of trouble.
I unpack my pop-up tent, set it up and chuck my rucksack inside. As I'm planning what I should do next, wicked laughter fills the area. My eyes scan for the source; they fail to find it.
Suddenly, something appears behind me, putting both its hands on my shoulders. "Got you."
I'm spun around. A demon is standing right there. "Can I help you?"
He cocks his head curiously. "You're not scared?"
"No more than I already was. Some assholes thought it would be funny to make me get left behind. Could have caught up, but I want them to get torn to shreds for me having 'gone missing'."
The laughter sounds again. "That is maniacally brilliant! So petty, so simple, so evil!"
"I wouldn't go *that* far" I shrug. "Petty and simple yes, but not evil. So why are you here?"
"Travelers get lost in these woods all the time. Easy prey, easy deals, easy souls. I was watching your group since the moment you got to this spot... kids always get separated from their class... first time it wasn't an accident, though." His eyes begin sparkling.
I smirk. "Smart. Though I'm not a kid, I'm 16. We can be rebellious, but we try not to wander too far unless someone's an idiot. Heard of an incident last year where someone saw a mother and baby deer, yelled 'BAMBI!' and took off. He was found pretty quickly. Rumour has it he's a drug addict."
"So this is a yearly thing?" The demon has sat down by now, as have I.
"Yeah. Not always to the same place, but every year the oldest class goes on a camping trip, helps get them out into nature and to try to appreciate it. It's mandatory. If you don't participate, you don't graduate. Of course there are exceptions, such as those with allergies or hayfever, but they still have to do a 'camping report', which they achieve by spending some time at a local park or even just using their own backyard. Everyone either looks forward to it or tries to be exempt. A few years ago, this very indoorsy nerdy kid had a panic attack at the very thought of the exercise. After that, mental state was added as an exception. Helped a lot of awkward, shy people that have been sheltered and coddled."
"I see." He seems pretty fixated on me.
My mind comes up with a thought. "Aren't you supposed to be, I dunno, trying to possess me or something?"
"Why do you think I've been trying to get you to lower your guard? Look at your wrist." The demon has a sly smile on his face.
Looking down, I see some kind of bracelet. It's locked onto my wrist pretty tight, but not too tight. There doesn't seem to be an easy way to get it off. I chuckle. "Well played. What does this mean?"
"It means you belong to me. Us demons can 'claim' a human, only one at a time however. It's usually reserved for a case of holding someone captive to get something out of another human. The thing is... you're a fascinating girl." He leans over and kisses me.
I don't reciprocate, but I don't fight it. After our lips part, I just stare at him. "Ok... this was unexpected... you know relationships can't be forced, right?"
"I know. That's why I'm not going to pressure you. Just so you know, if you really don't want to be with me, there needs to be *something* in return for your freedom. That bracelet will not come off unless you find a suitable replacement."
My mouth stretches to a grin. "I would be happy to sell out one of my bullies, but let's see how this goes first. My name's Makayla."
The demon smiles. "Call me Sadisho."
A voice suddenly starts calling out. "MAKAYLA! MAKAYLA, WHERE ARE YOU?"
"That's my teacher. You should go, I've got some acting to do." I dart into the tent, looking as sickly and scared as I can. My life should become more interesting...
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This story is the first in my new series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/Crystal_Chronicles/comments/15n79bb/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!
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j2q09kt
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j2og35e
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
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I sat there, as I had been doing for 8 hours a day for as long as I can remember.
The button. It was ominous, and glowed a bright red.
Through these days, I wondered.
What did it do?
Launch nuclear missiles?
Open a door to another universe?
Nothing?
...
I didn't know. Nor did I want to find out.
My superiors spent what felt like hours telling me how important it was to not press the button.
I wasn't about to disobey that.
Suddenly, my phone buzzes. I pause for a moment, and answer the call.
"Hello?" I said.
Then I heard a voice, panickly asking me a question.
"PRESS THE BUTTON. NOW."
"Excuse me?"
"I SAID, PRESS THE BUTTON!"
"S-Sir, I-"
"You have NO time left. No more screwups. PRESS. THE BUTTON."
I looked to the button.
"Sir, how do you kno-"
"I am telling you. Stop wasting time and press. The godamn. Button."
"Sir, wh-why should I do that, sir?"
"*Everything* depends on it. Your LIFE depends on your ability to press it."
This stranger was starting to get on my nerves. I got up from my chair and paced around the room.
"Sir, I'm gonna n-need you to-"
"No, Johnathan! The job was to PRESS THE BUTTON!"
My name wasn't Johnathan.
"That is *not* my job, nor is that my name! Is it possible you have a wrong num-?"
Then I realised.
The call wasn't meant for me.
The "job" wasn't *my* job.
The door was open.
Someone had broke through, and pressed the button.
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Josh often felt like his life had no meaning. He went away to college to study literature and he failed an any attempt of social relationships.
The only person that still call him sometimes was his roommate Andy, but Josh thought the only reason was that he felt guilty about all the homeworks he copied from him during the year, and because he had this need to be liked by everyone so he tried too hard to be friendly.
Josh was a pretty good student, actually one of the best, but he didn't think much of that and he consider himself mostly lucky for his result. Nonetheless he graduated with excellent grades. He was hired as a professor.
He dreamt as a child to be like one of those professor you see in movies, that changes the life of their students and live a mark on the world. He didn't felt this as much as then when he was hired, he chose the university because he never had any other lead on what to do so he just went with it.
One day had a heavy fight with his mother that morning, that left him strained and nervous and that eventually led him to clap back, but hours later, against a student. Turn out this student was the son of some important functionaire or something like that, and his father pressed for him to be removed. He never kept contact with his colleagues and he interrupted every contact with his family.
He was at a laundry when he encountered the man who offered him the seemingly perfect job. They both were regular and Josh recognized his face even if they never actually talked to eachother. This time, the man approached him like he were the best of friends, and told him that there was an opening for a task that didn't required any special skills nor to interact or even see other people. The job consisted in sitting in an empty room, with a red bottom at the middle of it for 8 hours a day, without ever pressing the red button and without talking to anyone about the job. He said that no one would accept these condition and that someone even thought he was joking, or worst trying to screw them over, so he was desperate to find a person to hire and that he was basically begging anyone he met. He was really surprised when Josh said he would have take the job. It sounded like a perfect representation of the useleness of his life.
So, from the day after, Josh went to the room with the red bottom, and for the next six years his life went on without any changes. His mom often tried to called over the years, trying to make amend for their fight and asking him what he was doing for a living. He forgave her eventually, and he let her know that, but he refused to elaborate on any questions she may have on his personal life. He often went to the laundry and he often met the man again, they mostly have small talk, and nothing else.
It was another Monday at work, ordinary as every other day. His phone ringed, he sighed before answering. "Mum, I already told you that how I live and what I do is not your concern, just made peace with it and go on". "I'm not your mum Josh, now hurry and press the red bottom in the room". A familiar, panicked voice almost screamed the words, Josh took a while to put his finger on it. "Andy, I believe that's you, right?" "Press the bottom Josh, NOW". He seemed freaked out, in a rush. "I don't know what are you talking about or why are you calling me, so maybe take a breath and drink some water, or alcohol if it better fit your state, and then have a good day. Goodbye Andy" "no, you don't understand, you really need to-..." Josh closed the call.
He finished his shift and went home. He ordered an Hawaiian Pizza by dominos for dinner. For the first time he stopped to thinking about the strange interaction he had at the phone. For the first time in years he asked himself what he was doing, actually, with his life. What the meaning of his job was. What would have happened if he had played the bottom.
The following day he went to work, and after at least an hour of going trought unresolvable questions, he pressed the red bottom. He then took his jacket and left, directed to his mother house. He owned some explanation after all. He texted Andy. "I did as you asked me by the way, even if I totally don't understand how you would possibly knew about anything. do you want to get a beer one of these days?"
And so, Josh's life went on. He often went to the laundry. He never met the man ever again.
Edit: paragraph
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jo9kld4
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jo8xz3x
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[WP] You are the child of two famous superheroes and their nemesis has kidnapped you in the hopes of getting under their skin. A week later your parents still haven't come to rescue you.
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I sat on the old bed in my cell, well, less of a cell and more of an old bedroom somewhere, a thick locked door and the lack of windows was the only thing slightly abnormal. It was small and cramped, but I was allowed to sleep, I was fed regularly and Lord Volt even gave me a couple of books to read. I heard footsteps and quickly stood up as I heard the locks being undone and Lord Volt walked in and slid over a tray of food, toast and cereal.
As I ate he checked his watch, “Been a week now, kid. They, uh…they must be gathering quite a force to rescue you.” I quietly nodded as I ate. He’d been a decent kidnapper, no beatings, no torture, not even any threats. “You…you were meant to be gone after a few days. They never take this long…”
I looked up at him slowly, careful not to make eye contact, his chin was a good place to look. “They’re busy people.” I said quietly, “They have other people to save. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
“Right…” he sighed, “Do I need to send a blast up to the sky or something? I rob a bank and one of them show up in seconds, I kidnap their kid and nothing for a week?” I stayed quiet, it was better that way. At least I’d not been beaten for breathing too loud. He hadn’t even called me useless or a waste of air.
He twitched and fidgeted, “I just want a big battle, I don’t even care if I lose, I just need something to improve my rep so people don’t laugh when they see me.”
I hesitated, offering my opinion when he didn’t ask was a good way to get a smack. “You, uh, you could just blast some new hero?”
He shook his head, “Nah, too risky not knowing if they can take a blast or not. Could risk killing them, I’ve gotten 15 years in the supervillain gig without killing someone, not gonna start now.”
“That’s respectable…” I mumbled.
He eventually sighed, “Alright, kid. I’m going to be straight with you; I got no idea why they’re not here. I’m using an old hideout, I made sure I was seen nearby, I even robbed some drinks from a store nearby. An’ I seen how you act. You, uh, you know why they ain’t coming?”
I flinched away from him instinctively, “This room is nice.”
He gave me a disbelieving look, “Kid this is a cell. This is worse than a prison cell.”
I glanced at his eyes, a deep blue colour, and hoped he didn’t hit me. “It’s nice. And you haven’t hit me yet.”
I looked away as he started staring as he realised, “I, uh, damn kid.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Okay, come on out, you can stay until you feel safe leaving.”
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I knew something was wrong when I woke up can could take the bandages *off*. I healed faster than most, but not *that* fast. Especially when it came to silver.
My feet found the sandy wooden floor of the shack I had been basically confined to for the last week. Holding my bruised stomach in both hands, I managed to stand. Outside, the ocean crashed against the cliffs. I guess it was time for a proper look.
The little island I lived on was wreathed in mist. The cottage I had spent the last week recovering in sat atop a tall, treeless hill that was shorn off by rocky cliffs on one side and meandered down to a sandy beach on the other. Above me, the Mad Mage's starlock blazed bright blue.
A dolphin clicked as it saw me from the bottom of the cliffs, and I instinctively tried to reach out. The silver nails inside of me tore at my anima, and I screamed and fell to my knees instead. Pain, sharp and fast, flickered down my spine as I collapsed, gasping.
*Maybe I'll just go meet them the normal way.*
I rolled over and stared at the foggy sky. I wasn't really healed. One doesn't lose a fight with the Mad Mage and then a second, even worse fight with his surgeons and walk away fine. I just couldn't bare waiting any longer. I'd start thinking about why I was still here, and those weren't good thoughts.
I found my way down to the beach by the time the sun was setting. The dolphin was out in the water, swimming large circles around one of the sunken rocks that poked through the waves. I flopped down on the sand with my toes in the water and my head against a piece of driftwood.
Eventually, the dolphin came to me. Animals always did. It clicked and worried just a couple yards distant.
"Oh, fine," I said, scooting a little further in the water. "But I can't swim right now, so you'll have to—OOF!"
Have you ever been full body tackled by an excited dolphin that's got a 100+lbs on you? I can attest that it's a wonderful, painful, crushing sensation.
Silver couldn't stop touch melding—telepathy's horrific younger brother. The dolphin realized what was happening a little too late, only getting the time for a short scream before my anima completely enveloped his.
*Could you, maybe, slide to the side?*
*I don't want to be eaten! Please don't! Please let me go!*
*I'm not going to eat you.* I bit my lip. I *was* hungry, and the dolphin's anima was a comfortable size. And it always took a lot of concentration to... keep things separate. *But please roll a little bit, it's hard to maintain your identity if I'm also struggling to breathe.*
It flopped over, its nose still pressed firmly against my forehead. Finally, I had to pleasure of inhaling. *Thank you.*
*Please let me go.* The dolphin's thoughts bubbled and pressed against me, terrified. My heart twisted in response. He was right to fear. If I fucked up, if I pulled away, if I decided to, he'd be dead dead. And I'd done all of those things before.
*I'm going to let you go. But I want to talk to you first.*
*Please!*
I sighed, and stared into its panicked eyes. *Okay. I mean you no harm, and this is hard to maintain. I'll be back tomorrow. Please come meet me.*
Then I withdrew, and as soon as it could, it raced back to the sea. I tried to help it by pushing, but it screamed at my touch. After some effort, it slipped into the blacked water, and disappeared into the night.
My struggle back to the cottage was lit only by the slowly reddening starlock above. I was seriously running out of time. Once it was locked locked, only the Mad Mage had the key.
The dolphin stayed away from the beach the following day, and the day after that. I'd fucked up, been too quick, and let it go too soon. Sincerely trying to be a good person did not mean you wouldn't screw up sometimes. It was trapped here too, and it probably would never talk to me again.
I found it harder and harder to sit still as the star lock slowly sealed the pocket dimension—they would come for me. They always came for me. My mom was the second greatest empath alive, and my father literally controlled fire. They'd saved me and my brothers many times before.
On the night of the thirteenth day, as the lock spun to its final configuration, I pleaded and stared at the stars. *They don't know where you are.* I couldn't keep the awful thought down. *Fuck fuck fuck!*
Thirteen silver nails in my spine wouldn't stop me. I wouldn't be a hostage of the Mad Mage if I could help it. I focused my anima, and struck for the stars.
They tore my anima, and my body fell, screaming to earth, but I pushed past that distant pain. I winded my way through the narrowing passageways of the lock. I was bleeding anima as my focus emerged.
*Mom!* I cried, *I'm here!*
*And so was she!* But her hand recoiled from the lock as if it stung. A sharp sense of shame permeated the familiar air of home—my father's pensive, restless thoughts were not far off. I could not see her face, but I felt my mother become closed to me—as if she was not there.
The lock tightened around my confusion, and I had to withdraw. When I came to, hours later, the lock was finished—the stars just stars in the night sky. I had spent a good chunk of myself doing that—I was desperately hungry for anima. But before I could feel that emptiness in my soul, another, harsher reality made itself known.
They *had* found me. And they chose to leave me here.
The thought, though unbearable, demanded to be felt. And the tears that came with it, though made of water, burned.
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k3togi4
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k3r6lw4
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[WP] "Good wish, you still have three wishes." A lightbulb goes off in my head. "So, you're saying if I make a selfless wish like that one, it doesn't count?" The genie visibly relaxes, as if I was the first person to connect the dots. "Yes, exactly."
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"wait, so selfless wishes cost 0?"
"hell yeah."
Bill thought for a while, then had a glint in his eye..
"what if i fulfilled one of your wishes?" he asked the genie. The big yellow eyes grew to the size of balloons and the genie gasped. "damn, nobody has ever asked that question before. uh, hang on, I need to double check this"
the genie popped out of existence, a hand appeared to grab his lantern, then the lantern was gone. Only seconds later, the genie popped back into existence and read aloud from a misty, floating book with fancy ornamentation around its cover.
"Granting the genies wish counts as negative wishes for the wishee. So, uh, you get an extra wish. It is right here, in the rules"
"Ok genie, what do you wish for? bill asked excitedly.
"Oh no, Im not sure this is a good idea". The genie was visibly uneasy, eyes flailing around his head, and he shrank to the size of a pot flower.
"genie, i wish you always answer truthfully when i ask what you wish for", bill said with a loud voice.
"Oh no, GRANTED!", and the final word 'granted' echoed through the ground and air. The genie became a box with shields around itself, obviously not happy where this was going, but Billys gaze shot through the genie like lasers, and he spoke with a pompous voice.
"genie, i wish that you always answered truthfully when i ask about loopholes in your wishes so that i can fulfill them to gain wishes while still getting something out of it myself"
"hold on, GRANTED!" The genie was unable to prevent the word and it echoed even stronger. "ok now, just one more wish Billy. What do you wish for?".
Billy smirked, "actually Genie, I have a question for you now. What do you wish for?"
edit, spelling
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"Good wish, you still have three wishes," said the Djinn. It had granted the previous wish made: for ice cream to be free for everyone. And it hadn't counted it among Rodrigo's three wishes originally offered.
Rodrigo said, "So, you're saying if I make a selfless wish like that one, it doesn't count?"
The Djinn visibly relaxed, as if Rodrigo was the first person to connect the dots. "Yes, exactly. The free ice cream for everyone except you does not count as a wish among your proffered three."
Rodrigo scratched a scab as he thought of his next wish. This scab itched. It was a reminder of the bike messenger who clipped him last week as he walked along the sidewalk. That cyclist had ruined his day as he was off to get his favourite food, which was ice cream. He hadn't even gone to get his dessert after being hurt. He just wasn't in the mood. The city was notorious for cyclists who hurt pedestrians. Did they not realize that they were in a vehicle that was meant to be on the road? How would he ever get back at all the cyclists who had cussed him out? Or hit him with their bikes?
He said, "Alright, I'd like to make my next wish a little retroactive." He grinned, "I want only free ice cream for *cyclists,* not everyone."
Whenever Rodrigo rode a bike, it was on the road, as he was a considerate person.
The Djinn cocked an eyebrow that was invisible to the human sight. It spoke from the aether as was the only method of communication when dealing with the human world. It said, "Okay..."
"Now give *all cyclists* severe lactose intolerance."
"How is that selfless?"
Panic sweats hit Rodrigo in a strong wave. He stumbled over his words, "Cause, well, you know, that too much ice cream is bad for you."
Remaining silent as it could the Djinn wanted to hear this one play out.
Rodrigo said, "Ice cream in large quantities can make you fat or sick, so, that's why I want people to have bodies that warn them of this fact whenever they are eating said... free ice cream."
"Okay, but that has to count as a wish," the Djinn crossed its arms. "So does the wish for the free ice cream for all cyclists."
However, Rodrigo couldn't read the Djinn's reaction at all. He only heard its otherworldly voice as it spoke to him. To the common human eye, he was just talking to a lamp. He said to the lamp, "What? That's a selfless act? So was the other one."
"No, see you ride your bike occasionally, so that would mean you would be benefitting as you are indeed a cyclist." There was no bullshitting a Djinn, they weren't omnipresent but they did have cosmic feelings of how to spot a liar. "So, you've used your first two wishes. But I can always reverse it with your third one, if you want."
This was a life shattering moment for Rodrigo. He had planned out his wishes ever since he was a kid. When he'd played that game on the playground, '*If you had three wishes, what would they be?'.* It was a popular game as the movie of Aladinn had recently come out. And his answer was always the same: I want to be a billionaire, I want every ice cream shop to serve me for free, and I never want that ice cream to affect my body in a negative way.
He already had lactose intolerance. He didn't want to make it worse. But now he was down to one wish. This was a rather conflict-ridden choice for him to make. Be rich or go on eating ice cream as he normally did, in small quantities.
"Alright, fine," he said, "Go on, make me rich."
"You sure?" Asked the Djinn. "You wished for essentially violent lactose intolerance. Ice cream *will* make you ill. I feel like you probably like ice cream a whole lot. I mean, who doesn't?"
"Do it." Vengeance was a dish best served cold as Rodrigo had once heard. Except that would probably be the only cold dish he'd be able to eat for the rest of his life without having to curl himself around a toilet. He took solace in the fact that he had probably cured the world of reckless cyclists, as a person who had a vicious stomach-ache would have a tough time not walking their bike. And he knew if he had made the sidewalks a bit safer for pedestrians, it at least felt like a selfless act.
Epilogue: Rodrigo lived a long life of wealth, however, he never could stomach his favourite food. He regretted wasting his wishes on revenge. That cyclist who had hit him and caused him to get the scab, they just rode through the pain of eating free ice cream. But Rodrigo, the only time he could truly enjoy a creamy, cold, waffle cone with two scoops was on his death bed. However, the uncomfortable rumbling in his tummy was worth it as he was able to peacefully die with a medley of ice cream flavours on his tongue.
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j3xgk7m
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j3x80k5
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[WP] You just discovered your 14 year old daughters Moon Princess locket that allows her to transform into one of the worlds greatest heroes. It also is a communications device and you are about to give the Moon Goddess a piece of your mind for letting 14 year old's defend the world against evil.
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“You may speak,” she says, and it’s like picking up the phone. Easy as that. There’s a goddess on the other line, the kind of woman that you know is unspeakably beautiful just from the sound of her voice. There are no metaphors or similes. Some things simply are.
I look out the kitchen window at my daughter, and I want to be furious.
A few minutes ago I was. She came home bleeding. Lily, my little girl. She’s fourteen, her birthday was in August, and though she’s tall for a girl her age I still remember sweeping her into my arms. Pinning her hair. Teaching her how to tie a ribbon—she loved blue and purple, never pink. Was clear about that, always.
Now bruises peek at me through the cuts in her jeans, and every few seconds she puts a finger to her bloody lip and winces, as shocked that it can still hurt like that.
She hasn’t seen me watching her, yet.
“What are you, really?” I say, whispering to the locket in my palm. I’ve twined the silver chain around my fingers and squeezed it until my fingertips started to lose feeling. The locket is shaped like a full moon, pockmarked, and through the holes—blasted all the way through the moon’s silver skin like bullet holes and exit wounds—I can see that the locket is completely empty. But of course it would be. That’s how this works. Everybody knows.
“Luna,” says the Goddess. “And you?”
“Her mother.”
“Ah.”
Lily came home late tonight, the first time she’s ever done that. Snuck into her bedroom to change her clothes. Rummaged through the fridge. I heard the microwave beeping from the bedroom, where I’d laid awake for hours, waiting. I heard the screen door open, close, and I found this locket by the microwave. Lily was already in the garden by then, a cup of instant ramen tossing steam into the autumn air. It’s midnight, and the full moon tracks across the sky. Clouds pass between them, but somehow Lily is always in its light.
“Is she in danger?” I ask.
“Yes,” the goddess says.
“I should hate you,” I say.
“Why?”
“Because she’s just a girl.”
Laughter, another sound without comparison. “And there’s no danger anywhere in that?”
I sway silently, remembering. Lily finishes her ramen. She leaves the cup in a flower bed we’ve been preparing for the winter. The trees are bare, the wind blows her straw blond hair. She’ll catch a chill, I think.
“Fuck you,” I tell the goddess.
“Shall I retract my gift?”
Lily goes back for the ramen cup, crushes it down, forces it into a pocket. She’s been trying to be more serious about littering. She gazes up at the moon. She shivers. I shiver. I press the locket against my cheek. The metal is shockingly cold, the kind that almost tips you back over into drunken, insensate warmth. In that moment I have power. I want to pull Lily back inside, press a cup of hot tea into her hands, wrap her in a thousand blankets and strap her into bed for the next four years, give or take. I want to introduce her to joys of libraries and church socials. Enroll her in the chess club. Send her to school for something sensible like nursing, or maybe encourage her to indulge her love of children and become a teacher. There’s a path unfolding in front of my eyes where I do exactly that. Protect. She leads a very safe, occasionally pleasant life.
Lily sits down in the grass against a tired elm. A shaggy carpet of fallen leaves surrounds her, and she gathers them to her like a blanket. There have been bags beneath her eyes lately to go with the fresh bruises. I lean forward, and suddenly the glass between us sharpens. Magic. I can see her like we’re only a few feet apart; like I’m not her mother, watching from a distance.
Bloody lips quirk. She smiles.
“She understands?” I ask. “The danger?”
“As much as any little girl could,” the goddess says.
“Alright,” I say. “Just be honest with her. Please.”
"Always," the goddess says, and I choose to believe her. Sometimes that's all that we can do.
Time passes. I set the locket by the microwave where I found it. Gather up all the comforters that I can find. It’s October after all, and nights here can be cold.
In the morning Lily wakes beneath a cozy heap of blankets. I have a pot of coffee brewing. Fresh muffins cooling in a tin.
r/TurningtoWords
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\[Goddess' Perspective\]
"Sorry, who are-,"
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!" Carrie screamed. She had been about to give the so-called 'Moon Goddess' a piece of her mind when a black hole suddenly appeared in her daughter's bedroom. A pale, teenage girl with rainbow hair wearing a crisp white suit walked out of the portal and surprised Carrie. She recovered quickly as she recognized the teenager. And, she even took a step forward to both get a closer look and show the stranger she wasn't scared. "You??" Carrie asked as her mind offered up the teen's name. "You're Monday, right?"
"Oh, hey," the teen nodded at her in recognition. "That's me; you were looking for a gift for your daughter, right? Carrie, was it?"
"You're the Moon Goddess??" Her mind was trying to make sense of the situation. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she meet the teen around the same time the Moon Princess started saving people. Another hero in the news wasn't particularly noteworthy. Although, Carrie couldn't help but notice how enthusiastic her daughter was when it came to the Moon Princess' exploits. She was the girl's mother and her daughter wasn't especially devious; it was easy to see the connection.
"Yeah," Monday giggled and nodded. "Your daughter decided that was my title, so sure. I don't mind."
"When did you meet my daughter? WHY??" Carrie took two steps closer to the door. She found the teen selling knickknacks out of a backpack in the mall. She initially thought Monday was working some sort of charity selling chocolates or pens and she wanted to take a look. Instead of letting her dig through the bag, she just asked what Carrie was looking for. After revealing her daughter's upcoming 14th birthday, Monday said she had the perfect gift. She reached into the backpack and pulled out a transparent glass card. After a brief demonstration, Carrie was convinced it was better than the latest and greatest smartphones, and cheaper too. At the time, Carrie thought she'd never see Monday again. Now, she was realizing that the phone was probably part of a larger scam.
"I helped her set up the node you bought," she said.
"You're the reason she's out there!" Carrie wasn't going to let herself get distracted from why she called. She didn't even do any snooping. She wandered into her daughter's bedroom to drop off laundry and the Moon Princess locket sat on the desk in plain sight. The golden crescent moon lined with pink gemstones was distinctive enough for Carrie to recognize. Her daughter couldn't help but point it out every time it was on the news; and somehow, the news in her house was always talking about the Moon Princess.
Carrie felt like her daughter would have showed her if she got a replica, the girl regularly showed off her cosplay gear. And, as she had that thought, she realized her daughter had been spending more time out in the evenings instead of working on her hobby. She grabbed the locket from the desk and it felt real and heavy. She tugged at it and the crescent moon opened with the hinges at the tips. Once it was opened it looked like a golden full moon with legible text floating in the empty center. She saw an entry that said: "Moon Goddess" and pressed it.
She didn't know who it was at the time; but, as soon as Monday answered, she went off on the stranger for putting her daughter at risk. Instead of listening to the abuse, Monday Traversed to see who was angry and why.
"I mean, technically, you're the reason she's out there," Monday shrugged. "The important thing is she's having fun and enjoying her gift, right?"
"What??" Carrie tilted her head at Monday. "You think I wanted this life for my daughter??"
"What?" Monday mirrored Carrie's response; but, she was genuinely confused. "No, that's a weird assumption. How would you know what your daughter wants? Your gift let her choose exactly what she wanted."
"She wanted this??" Carrie asked. "Why? Why is she putting her life in danger?"
"Who's in danger?" Monday asked.
"MY DAUGHTER!" Carrie shouted. "Every night! She goes out and fights evil! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SEND KIDS????"
"Ohhh," Monday chuckled. "Yeah, no. It's not real," Monday said. A look of confusion took over Carrie's face and remained there as she stared at Monday. Luckily, the teen kept talking. "Okay, let me back up," she said. She raised her hand in the air with the palm facing Carrie. Her hand was empty until it wasn't. Carrie watched it happened, but she couldn't explain how Monday plucked a transparent glass card out of literal thin air.
"This is a node, like the one you bought," Monday said. "They're made from nanos and can look like anything. Most people think it's convenient if they look like nothing," Monday pushed the card forward into the air. It disappeared completely as she pushed it into nothing. "But, some people like to get creative," she added. Monday plucked the node out of the air again. She held it out on her palm and Carrie watched it disintegrate into white powder before it change shape into another Moon Princess locket.
"Nodes...," Monday nodded at the locket to drive the point home. "...have a lot of functions. But, the most important one is AlterNet Access. The AlterNet is a life-sized game that takes place across alternate universes networked together. Your daughter made an AlterNet character and she's playing the game. There's a good chance the villains she's fighting are other players too," Monday added.
"Just 'a good chance'?" Carrie asked. Monday had given her too much information to try and reason through then and there. And, she could actually talk to her daughter later now that it sounded like the situation wasn't as dire as she thought. She'd mentioned alternate universes; but, there was still a chance her daughter was in danger in this one. That was her priority. "What if there are Supervillains that aren't playing the game?"
"Oh, that's not possible," Monday shook her head.
"But, you just said there's 'a good chance' they're other players. What about the ones that aren't?"
"If they're not players, they're known as NPCs," Monday said. That was a term that Carrie had heard often enough from her daughter to kind of know what it meant. It was actually a little bit disturbing to hear that NPCs existed even in reality. But, given everything else Monday had proven, she was willing to accept the statement. "The thing about the AlterNet is Players know they're in a game. NPCs just go about their business and stick to the system. They're going about it in different ways; but, EVERYONE is playing the game."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1821 in a row. (Story #011 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/).
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j3y5tc3
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j3x80k5
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[WP] You just discovered your 14 year old daughters Moon Princess locket that allows her to transform into one of the worlds greatest heroes. It also is a communications device and you are about to give the Moon Goddess a piece of your mind for letting 14 year old's defend the world against evil.
|
So here’s the thing—I know I’m not the best dad, despite what the coffee mug in the corner cabinet proclaims. I’ve made dozens of mistakes, if not hundreds. If not thousands.
There was that time when she turned seven and I bought her the purple bike helmet that she wanted, only it was two sizes too small and when we went to exchange it they only had camouflage green ones left. Since I couldn’t be the best dad, I had to be a decent one at least, and I made her wear that helmet anyway. God, she hated me for that. I’ve missed swimming lessons and piano recitals. I’ve fallen asleep when she tried to show me the movies she liked as a kid.
That’s not to say I didn’t try. I was reaching out, when I could. Trying to find that common ground. Trying to show her, in all the little ways, that I loved her. My wife, her mom…. she passed when Ellie was three. I could’ve been better, I guess, I could’ve been more affectionate, or told her more how much I loved her. How much I cared about her. But words, emotions? Those aren’t my forte.
Having a kid is a weird thing. Having a teenager, even more so. Where did that smiley little kiddo go? Instead, there was this glum little adult, already taller than her mom was, slamming doors and rolling her eyes and always on that damn phone of hers. Ellie was smart (which she certainly didn’t get from me) and she was great at music and sports and she had such a bright, brilliant future ahead. Why did she shut down? Why the scowling? The dark circles under her eyes?
Well, at least that all made sense now. This damn *thing* in her room, this stupid locket—it was draining away her childhood. Because, yes, fourteen-year-olds are still children, despite what they might want to believe.
So that lead me here, in what I can only imagine must be described as a pocket dimension, standing before this floating, glowing entity. The supposed Moon Goddess. Her silver hair floated behind her; beams of white light pierced the rippling darkness. Silky robes billowed around her and moved as if they were made of liquid.
“This is bullshit.” I held the locket up so she could see it, in case she didn’t know what I meant.
“Eleanor has a great duty to protect your realm from danger,” the goddess replied and, after she spoke, her voices rippled and echoed back on itself.
“I don’t give a damn! And neither do you.” I pointed my finger at her. Blood rushed through my head and my vision narrowed; anger blacked out the edges of my world. “If you even cared about her in the slightest, you’d know she goes by Ellie.”
“I have seen things beyond what you can imagine. She is the one for this task. The dark forces—”
“What’s her favourite food? Huh” I crossed my arms. “Her favourite colour? What band has she been saving up for two years to get tickets to? Her best friend?”
The goddess glared at me. Her expression remained as stoic as ever. “Those petty things do not concern me.”
“Petty? You think those things are petty?” My anger bubbled into boiling rage. “For everything you claim to know, you don’t understand anything about people. We’re all just stupid little collections of favourite foods and dumb music and shiny little trinkets and people that make us smile!”
The goddess considered me. “And you mean to say the fate of the universe is worth less than—as you said—your daughter’s favourite foods and her dumb music and her shiny trinkets and people that make her smile?”
“Yes.” I pressed my lips into a line and met her eyes (if they were even her eyes). “Without question.” What universe was there without my daughter?
“Your conviction is admirable,” the goddess said, “but it does not change the reality of this situation. Eleanor is the only one who can stop the dark forces. She has accepted her fate.”
“Well, I don’t.” My heart slammed into my ribs as the idea started to cement in my mind. I lifted my chin. “Give it to me.”
The goddess actually recoiled in shock; her head pulled back and her glowing eyelids fluttered. “What?”
“Give it to me,” I repeated, enunciating every syllable.
“You want *me* to make *you*—a 42-year-old welder from Regina—the Moon Princess?”
“Yes.” I locked my jaw. “Do it.”
---
/r/liswrites
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\[Goddess' Perspective\]
"Sorry, who are-,"
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!" Carrie screamed. She had been about to give the so-called 'Moon Goddess' a piece of her mind when a black hole suddenly appeared in her daughter's bedroom. A pale, teenage girl with rainbow hair wearing a crisp white suit walked out of the portal and surprised Carrie. She recovered quickly as she recognized the teenager. And, she even took a step forward to both get a closer look and show the stranger she wasn't scared. "You??" Carrie asked as her mind offered up the teen's name. "You're Monday, right?"
"Oh, hey," the teen nodded at her in recognition. "That's me; you were looking for a gift for your daughter, right? Carrie, was it?"
"You're the Moon Goddess??" Her mind was trying to make sense of the situation. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she meet the teen around the same time the Moon Princess started saving people. Another hero in the news wasn't particularly noteworthy. Although, Carrie couldn't help but notice how enthusiastic her daughter was when it came to the Moon Princess' exploits. She was the girl's mother and her daughter wasn't especially devious; it was easy to see the connection.
"Yeah," Monday giggled and nodded. "Your daughter decided that was my title, so sure. I don't mind."
"When did you meet my daughter? WHY??" Carrie took two steps closer to the door. She found the teen selling knickknacks out of a backpack in the mall. She initially thought Monday was working some sort of charity selling chocolates or pens and she wanted to take a look. Instead of letting her dig through the bag, she just asked what Carrie was looking for. After revealing her daughter's upcoming 14th birthday, Monday said she had the perfect gift. She reached into the backpack and pulled out a transparent glass card. After a brief demonstration, Carrie was convinced it was better than the latest and greatest smartphones, and cheaper too. At the time, Carrie thought she'd never see Monday again. Now, she was realizing that the phone was probably part of a larger scam.
"I helped her set up the node you bought," she said.
"You're the reason she's out there!" Carrie wasn't going to let herself get distracted from why she called. She didn't even do any snooping. She wandered into her daughter's bedroom to drop off laundry and the Moon Princess locket sat on the desk in plain sight. The golden crescent moon lined with pink gemstones was distinctive enough for Carrie to recognize. Her daughter couldn't help but point it out every time it was on the news; and somehow, the news in her house was always talking about the Moon Princess.
Carrie felt like her daughter would have showed her if she got a replica, the girl regularly showed off her cosplay gear. And, as she had that thought, she realized her daughter had been spending more time out in the evenings instead of working on her hobby. She grabbed the locket from the desk and it felt real and heavy. She tugged at it and the crescent moon opened with the hinges at the tips. Once it was opened it looked like a golden full moon with legible text floating in the empty center. She saw an entry that said: "Moon Goddess" and pressed it.
She didn't know who it was at the time; but, as soon as Monday answered, she went off on the stranger for putting her daughter at risk. Instead of listening to the abuse, Monday Traversed to see who was angry and why.
"I mean, technically, you're the reason she's out there," Monday shrugged. "The important thing is she's having fun and enjoying her gift, right?"
"What??" Carrie tilted her head at Monday. "You think I wanted this life for my daughter??"
"What?" Monday mirrored Carrie's response; but, she was genuinely confused. "No, that's a weird assumption. How would you know what your daughter wants? Your gift let her choose exactly what she wanted."
"She wanted this??" Carrie asked. "Why? Why is she putting her life in danger?"
"Who's in danger?" Monday asked.
"MY DAUGHTER!" Carrie shouted. "Every night! She goes out and fights evil! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SEND KIDS????"
"Ohhh," Monday chuckled. "Yeah, no. It's not real," Monday said. A look of confusion took over Carrie's face and remained there as she stared at Monday. Luckily, the teen kept talking. "Okay, let me back up," she said. She raised her hand in the air with the palm facing Carrie. Her hand was empty until it wasn't. Carrie watched it happened, but she couldn't explain how Monday plucked a transparent glass card out of literal thin air.
"This is a node, like the one you bought," Monday said. "They're made from nanos and can look like anything. Most people think it's convenient if they look like nothing," Monday pushed the card forward into the air. It disappeared completely as she pushed it into nothing. "But, some people like to get creative," she added. Monday plucked the node out of the air again. She held it out on her palm and Carrie watched it disintegrate into white powder before it change shape into another Moon Princess locket.
"Nodes...," Monday nodded at the locket to drive the point home. "...have a lot of functions. But, the most important one is AlterNet Access. The AlterNet is a life-sized game that takes place across alternate universes networked together. Your daughter made an AlterNet character and she's playing the game. There's a good chance the villains she's fighting are other players too," Monday added.
"Just 'a good chance'?" Carrie asked. Monday had given her too much information to try and reason through then and there. And, she could actually talk to her daughter later now that it sounded like the situation wasn't as dire as she thought. She'd mentioned alternate universes; but, there was still a chance her daughter was in danger in this one. That was her priority. "What if there are Supervillains that aren't playing the game?"
"Oh, that's not possible," Monday shook her head.
"But, you just said there's 'a good chance' they're other players. What about the ones that aren't?"
"If they're not players, they're known as NPCs," Monday said. That was a term that Carrie had heard often enough from her daughter to kind of know what it meant. It was actually a little bit disturbing to hear that NPCs existed even in reality. But, given everything else Monday had proven, she was willing to accept the statement. "The thing about the AlterNet is Players know they're in a game. NPCs just go about their business and stick to the system. They're going about it in different ways; but, EVERYONE is playing the game."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1821 in a row. (Story #011 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/).
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j4md6l8
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j4lkasy
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[WP] You are a supervillain who went undercover as a superhero for jokes, only to discover how corrupt the system is in the hero society. The system is so corrupt that you agree to lead a small group of superheroes to rebel against the unjust hero society.
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Credit where credit is due: the Hero Agency had some top notch break rooms. I was sitting on a cushioned bench with my mask off, alternating between eating my sandwich and icing my shiner. I had gotten jumped by a low-ranking hero named Titan after I registered with the Agency. At first, I was terrified that my ruse had been discovered already, but that notion was discarded when Titan told me to, "Stay in my lane."
As I wiped the avocado bits off of my chin, two rookie heroes walked into the room mid-conversation and started helping themselves to the fruit bowl. The pair were jabbering happily about sponsorships, endorsements, and the like, prompting me to put my headphones on to block them out. This couldn't have been the Hero Agency, I thought to myself. This was like a fusion of reality TV and emergency services.
My isolation was interrupted by a note getting set on my lap. I looked up to survey the room, but there was nobody else around. I read the words on the note: "Room 0561". With nothing better to do, I tossed my lunch and made my way to the room in question.
The room was a storage unit on the same floor, thankfully. I stepped inside the room and saw about twenty-five or so heroes sitting on the various crates that filled the room. As I shut the door behind me and hesitantly approached, I said to them, "I got your message."
One of them got off of their makeshift seats and pressed a finger to my black eye. Instantly, I felt the pain subside. Once she pulled back, I sighed and said, "Thank you."
The woman nodded. "Don't mention it. I'm Anesthetic. I've got a proposition for you."
"Gonna go out on a limb and assume this is related to your little knitting circle here?"
Anesthetic chuckled. "Not much of a knitting circle. See that guy over there?" Anesthetic pointed towards a man dressed like an old school punk rock fanboy. "That's Powerchord. Hero Agency Insurance refused to cover the destruction of his guitar shop even after working for the Agency for three years. The weirdo next to him is Gnasher." A person wearing a full face dog mask waved energetically. "The Agency denied their request for an investigation into a kidnapping ring, despite the fact it was recorded in their own goddamn files that they got their powers from an altercation with said ring."
I looked over Anesthetic's shoulder at a woman in emerald body armor slumped against a crate like she was unconscious after a bender. "What about her?"
Anesthetic looked at where I was looking and sighed. "That's Saving Grace. Not my place to tell. You're gonna have to get her to trust you to find out."
"What about you? What's your beef?"
Anesthetic grimaced. "Same thing that brought you to my attention. A big, violent thing named Titan."
I winced and rubbed my arm. "Good reason. So what, this is some kind of resistance movement?"
"If you join, it will be. We got the drive, but none of us are leaders. You, on the other hand? I saw how you passed the practical exam. I saw you command those birds. You're what we need to take this to the next level."
"You're asking me to lead you?"
"I'm asking you to help us hit the Hero Agency where it hurts."
I fell silent for a bit. As I weighed the options, I eventually took a deep breath and replied, "Alright, I'm in. But if we're doing this, you need to know: there is nobody named Black Kestrel. I am, and always have been, the villain known as Shikkoku."
Anesthetic grinned. "Oh, I know. Why do you think I asked you in the first place?"
|
"And here's our newest member. He made it past the three trials showing his loyalty, and is now ready to take the test, to prove he can join us."
That was my queue. I walked up to the podium to start my initiation, trembling like a leaf. "Members of the council, i wish to join."
The council stared me up and down. They had all seen my file and knew today was the day, but they just wanted to act as if i came out of the blue. After some murmurs: What is your name?
I didn't see who asked it, but, i had to answer quickly. "Marsokan".
"Marsokan?" Some members laughed. "What do you wish to do to show you are truly a super villain?"
I saw it that time. The Elemental Queen was asking me the questions. That's perfect, she is exactly whom i wish to impress. She's been my idol for many years now.
"I am going to infiltrate the Super Hero Society."
"And how will that prove anything? You're an unknown, especially to real super heroes, and just need to act good for a while."
The others agreed with her, and she herself had a bit of disgust on her face.
I coughed, both nervously, and to act as if she had cut me off. "I am going to infiltrate the Super Hero Society and delete all the files they have on you in their famed master computer."
That got their attention. Nobody gets near the computer, even most the heroes. Having access to do anything, well, purportedly, only The Parrot has that.
"That would be impressive, and far beyond what you would need to do to join our society. Are you really trying to impress us?"
"Actually, i am trying to impress *you*."
The queen smiled while the others made some fun.
"So be it. You have your task, and must complete it in one month, or die."
The meeting was over. My reception was mixed. I heard the words: Bold, idiot, show off, prankster, young. And off i went.
---
I immediately applied to the Super Hero society, and they gave me the usual, "You have to be a proven hero with medals and affidavits to even apply. Please come back after you have achieved more." I hated those wods. I had heard them so many times since i was a kid, trying endlessly to join. No matter what i did, i never got recognized, and i tried charity, disaster relief, stopping small time villains (all the big time one get assigned, and you do *not* want to get in a super hero's way), and got awards. I even protected Speedster's house once when he was off on a mission, but he didn't even thank me, making it sounds as if i owed him the thanks. I hate them those stuck up brats!
But this time i was prepared. With my mild mental skills, i was able to convince the clerk to sign my application. It went into the small pile behind her. Step 1 was complete.
Step 2 is getting two supers to sign off on my sheet. It's nigh impossible to even get their attention, but i had to do it. I started with Speedster, thanking him for letting me save his house those years ago. It was humiliating bowing before that jerk, and he didn't remember me at all, but i lavished on the praises. I then asked him if i could have the honor of helping him some more, doing menial tasks, or better yet, coming on a mission. He looked at me with disdain and laughed at me.
"Could i at least get you're autograph?"
"Sure kid."
I used my powers to fog his mind ever so slightly, so that when he signed, he didn't realize he was actually signing my petition to join the league. I thanked him profusely and went off to The Brute. He was much easier to manipulate, and i brought him lots of food. He didn't even look at what he was signing when i asked for the signature. And back i went to the clerk.
The clerk looked down his nose at me. "Listen kid, you just used the two easiest members. If i walk into the council meeting on Tuesday with this application, i'll be laughed out of the room, and my job might be in jeopardy."
He started walking toward the nearby trash. I couldn't manipulate him when his mind was made up like this. Instead, i hid, and having thought i left, he went back to business. I stayed until after closing, took my application out of the garbage, stamped it with his stamp, and put it in the council room before leaving undetected. Steps 1-3 in one day isn't too shabby.
Now came the hard part. To join, i had to get most of the council's 67 members to vote yes, and i had exactly one day to do it. I was nervous, but my plan was working perfectly.
The next day, the supers were showing up to a charity event. Having this be the day before the meeting is what made my plan possible. All the heroes would be there, be in a good mood, and if past performance holds true, show off. That's when my super power would come into play.
First came Octopus Man. He got dirty while dragging a train in front of everyone. When he finished, he was filthy, and so i offered to clean his clothes. He allowed me to touch his sleeve, at which point i manipulated the cloth the squeeze out the mud. He had no idea what i did, but was impressed with the results. I told him it would be a great honor if he ever called upon me again. He smiled, and i left. Miracle Woman was next, and she proved just as easy. After the fifth cleaning, all the others had already heard of me and all asked for my service. Perfect. Things were going better than planned.
The following day, i waited in the lobby for the the council meeting to start. There were plenty of people there, hoping to catch yet another glimpse of heir favorite hero. After the meeting started, one of the supers came ut to the clerk, asked him who Marsokan was, and why he didn't hand deliver the application as usual. The clerk was dumbfounded, but i stood up immediately, "that's me sir!"
"You, the dry cleaner, want to join *us*?!"
"Please sir," i said in a respectful tone, "you are my idol. I want to join to help everyone look their best."
He laughed, but led me into the council room anyway.
"Marsokan, the the dry cleaner wants to join us." He announced.
Everyone laughed. I was used to it by now. I laughed too. They were now manipulatable, due to their light spirits. Luckily, The Parrot was not in the room. I was banking on that. And so i started to manipulate everyone else ever so slightly as i made my case to clean their clothes so they look their best at all times. And it worked. I even got 60 yeas!
The Turquoise Prophet announced my membership. "You are now officially a junior member of the Super Hero Council. Go fetch me a coffee."
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jlp03ex
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jloyo53
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[WP] An octopus slinks into a dark room with a gun in each arm. He hears a soft chuckle coming from the corner. “You’re one short, my friend,” says the cat as he steps into view.
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An octopus slinks into a dark room with a gun in each arm. He hears a soft chuckle coming from the corner. “You’re one short, my friend,” says the cat as he steps into view.
But Octo was not here for games. He aimed the barrel of his gun against the grinning cat and pulled, watching the small body of his once ally fall to the ground in one single swoop. Octo turned around, expecting to be done with Samuel once and for all, but a chuckle behind him prevented him from doing so.
“I told you,” Sam said, his eyes narrowed in unmistakable satire. But there was quiet anger there, too, within those green eyes mixed with gold. “You’re one short. Or had you forgotten,” he continued. “That cats have nine lives?”
“So?” Octo said. He was growing bored of this conversation already. Samuel always did like to speak in riddles. No wonder their – *his*, he had to remind himself – *his* superiors wanted Octo to get rid of him.
“So,” Samuel drawled, tone mocking, “You’ve only got eight hands, haven’t you? Eight chances to kill me.” Sam looked at him then, and Octo wondered when his former friend had gotten so serious. “But I’ve got *nine* lives.”
“I’ll kill you in that one, too.”
Samuel laughed, but it wasn’t humorous. If anything, it was empty. Dull. Octo could hear his boss in that laugh, had found it in the wicked octave of his giggles.
“Oh, my friend, how you always make me laugh. I’m afraid that won’t do, though. You see, you’re forgetting something rather important in that plan of yours. I’ve got two hands, but you, my friend, have only *one* life. One chance at living. I only *need* one gun.”
Octo pulled the trigger, aiming for the cat’s head, but Samuel was faster than he, with his small body and agile legs. He ducked, flipping over Octo so he landed atop his body, facing the back of Octo’s head. The cold barrel of a gun settled there.
“What a predicament we’re in,” Sam mocked. Octo shivered. He tried to shake Samuel off using his arms, but Samuel avoided him with every move.
“Oh, Octo,” he whispered in his ear. “There’s a reason *you’re* the one killing *me*.” Then, without a second to waste, the gun in Sam's hand emptied into Octo’s brain, spilling his insides all over the cold, tiled floor.
Samuel smiled as he watched his old friend die, absentlmindedly swiping his hand against his blood-stained teeth. His old superiors *would* pay, Samuel would make sure of that.
Pity he had to start with Octo to do it.
\--
/r/itrytowrite
edit: spelling
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I would like to take this opportunity to thank u/Jwishh , u/toolatealreadyfapped , u/nicocpp , u/fuckthehumanity and many others for their hilarious comments and story snippets in [this thread here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Jokes/comments/13ro3c0/an_octopus_slinks_into_a_dark_room_with_a_gun_in/). Please don't mind me while I shamelessly grab the baton to continue this baton-pass storytelling and RUN WITH IT RUN FOR IT RUN FOR THE HILLS
HERE GOES NOTHING while I go full silly mode
-------
"You're one short, my friend," chuckles Kat the cat as she sees tentacles slither out of the darkness, each wielding a gun.
"They're water guns," replied Otto the Octopus.
Kat reared up on her hind legs and hissed, "Oh shit!"
"Hell yeah, I knew you don't like water, not to mention I've loaded up my guns with pure liquid gold! I'm all ready for winter water sports, so suck on them! Bring on the golden shower of my blessings!"
"Yes, yes, ooh so scary, you're right, I'm petrified."
"Ironic considering you initially believed them to be real guns, which would be more of a detriment to your life than these water guns, regardless of the type of fluid I have filled them with."
“Such is the nature of the beast, and true proof that when it comes to nature vs nurture, the clear winner is what we are born with.”
"I’ll show you a beast alright, but it ain’t natural."
"Oh you sweet octopussy you know we can't do this, my spouse would object."
"Your spouse doesn’t need to be a part of this, this is our world, our time, different types of marriages are legal now damn it, there’s nothing stopping us from being together anymore! Don't let a little thing like gender or species pull us apart!"
"I have a family now, you know this! I have kittens who rely on me! Who need me!"
WELL WHAT ABOUT ME? WHAT ABOUT WHEN I NEEDED YOU?!” cried the octopus.
The octopus sighed, “This was a stupid idea on my part, I should’ve never come here. I shall slink back into the shadows of the seas whence I came and never disturb you again!”
The cat held out one paw and called out to the octopus “Wait…please wait...”
Otto the Octopus turned around. "Just a little hug and tickle before I go?"
Kat the cat meowed, "Ugh, I'm not really a touchy, feely type, I could claw a man's eyes out if he tried to pet me in the wrong places. But for you, maybe I'll make an exception."
"Cool, just so you know, my love language is touch, and I derive arousal from tickling. Could I just have...ten tickles since you're not into touching?"
"Oh yes you may, my octopussy, oh my, I can see you have such big eyes."
"All the better to see the faint bioluminescent outline of charging whales like my far flung distant cousin the giant squid."
"Charging whales? I had no idea they were electric! Where do they plug in?"
"Oh, they plug in with any USB-Sea ports. Where else would such large creatures plug in with their high current area? Haven't you heard of ocean currents?"
"Ohh sounds exciting, but Otto, shall we get on with it?"
"Of course my love, but before you deliver the ten tickles I so desire, may we have a test run? Just two...test tickles?
-----
"So, Kat, how's this for a pub joke? As an eldritch octopus god, I wouldn't want to deliver droll, dry humor to my fellow eldritch entities of the sea when we go drinking later. It should at least make them wet if it doesn't make them laugh. I've incorporated many ideas I saw off Reddit."
Katrina grinned. "I think you'll do fine, Elvari. You're getting the hang of humor. You did get a genuine chuckle out of me. Not sure about the wet part."
"Its a wet joke with water guns, no? I still have some issues with it. First of all, I was thinking if I should squeeze in a hug somewhere, and I know about cats having 9 lives...but an octopus will have problems with locomotion if all 8 tentacles were to be holding a gun."
Katrina paused for a moment before sharing an idea. "How about we assume the octopus can shoot more than once? If not, well...in Italy, my grand aunt would say that cats have 7 lives."
"An octopus has 6 arms because 2 remaining tentacles are actually utilized in a similar way that you humans would utilize your legs. So the joke still stands."
"Wait, just a random shower thought," Katrina said, "If that's how 8 tentacles are utilized, which one is the throwaway sperm package?"
Elvari raised an eyebrow. "Do you really want to hear how eldritch..."
"Scratch that, no. I'm sorry I even asked, please disregard my dumb question."
"I'm relieved, because honestly, I've never actually figured out which tentacle to detach and throw to a girl of my dreams."
"I hear it's the shortest one. Wait, you've never fu...Of course, you didn't. You're still alive, Elvari."
"I am an eldritch god...it wouldn't kill me to detach a single tentacle, unlike short-lived mortal octopi. There are many other things I could tell you about tentacles, they're awesome appendages, they're mighty masses of muscles, very flexible and strong and..."
Katrina stuck out her hand in objection. "No, just no. I really don't want or need to know. Get going to the pub with your eldritch pals already, you're running late if you don't make a move now."
------------------------
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/)
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jrzsnib
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jrzkmys
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[WP] When you were a child, someone called you and said "7". You thought nothing of it until today, when you got a caller who said "6".
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A Carpenter I told them. An Aztec. A monk. A religious preacher. Many more, all completely normal boring lives yup, nothing to see here.
Most people were ecstatic if they had something big under their belt, a life with *meaning* and *purpose*, a life that changed the world. I met the guy who was Napoleon once, he never stopped bragging about the battles, going on endlessly about Waterloo and how he cared so much for his soldiers. Ugh, that guy was insufferable.
When everyone first remembered I was a child, and at first I had told the truth when asked whos lives I had lived. But after a sharp bit of reprimanding for lying I quickly learned that even if you were telling the truth, often times no one cared if they didn't want to believe it.
So I sat. And I listened to the old souls I was, and am, and will be. That seems to be the only difference between me and the others, they can only see their past lives, but I can see who I *WILL* be too. I *WILL* be a Carpenter again. I *WILL* be a monk again. I *WILL* be a preacher in the far future, when there aren't too many humans left in this world. The ones I was can talk to me but the ones I will be can't I guess that makes sense, they, and by they I mean I, haven't lived those lives yet, all in good time does the wheel of life turn, or so the monk says.
"Ignore them, for they mean not what they say, they know not what they do" Says the Carpenter, I find it hard to believe him, but I know he's right in my heart.
"Demand blood, Burn all who stand before you as wood before a raging flame" Says the Aztec, but he looks weird. I don't listen to him ever, and I'm not even sure he was even a human the dude has feathers and scales and could apparently fly.
"Look for the divine essence of truth, embody the spirit of righteousness as Ahura Mazda gives you the strength to do" Says the Preacher when someone was yelling at me for something I couldn't control.
"Nothing can harm you, as much as your own thoughts unguarded" Says the monk before he goes back to meditating.
I know he's right. They're all right. They're *always* right... the people around me aren't inherently bad, they're just ignorant and misguided. It sure would be tough to deal with them if I didn't have all of them helping me. Even the feathery Aztec helps, because he teaches that violence and anger is in human nature and must be reconciled or you'll eventually blow up over something, whether it matters or not.
"So, Mr. Silent over there in the corner, what is your name?" The teacher asks.
"Yeshua" I quietly murmur.
"That's interesting, that's a Hebrew name with a very famous namesake" He replies.
I Think back to the carpenter. He chuckles inside me. "Yea, I know" I reply.
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[Okay so I wrote this for nosleep a while back but it fits here, kinda]
***
Ever since I was a kid, I was able to see people who never existed. My parents thought it was my overactive imagination. You must be thinking that my situation is like The Sixth Sense but it’s not. I can always tell when the people I see are real or not. You see, they always appeared pale, not ghostly pale just greyish like a strong wind will dissolve them. But that changed. As I grew, so did their form. How do I put this, they started solidifying? I could still tell them apart because they were still very pale but now it was as if my memory had started taking a form.
When I was a kid, I tried to get the young ones to play with me but they always refused. Not verbally, never verbally, they just shook their heads and continued to stare at me. I didn’t mind. I was a kid, after all. But things started to change as I grew up, there weren’t just staring and replying non-verbally, they started saying the same thing, the same word, in fact, each and every single one of them,
*Why?*
I was fifteen and going about my day, I used to the pale strangers that always hovered near me- whispering ‘why?’ I ignored them. How can I answer something I don’t understand? It was during my history class that one appeared beside my teacher and pointed at me in anger and screamed, “murderer!”
I stared at it dumbfounded, thinking it was mistaken. But it kept getting closer to me screaming murderer. From that day onwards no matter how many ‘people’ I saw they all screamed murderer and I had no idea why. I was a good kid, kept my nose clean, walked the straight line but all the ‘people’ calling me murderer scared me. Were they predicting my future? Were they telling me I was destined to become a horrible person? The ifs and buts kept me up at night, where more of them lingered. But life goes on and so did I.
I got into an Engineering College and I was pretty happy after a long time, after the day I first heard the word murderer, and that- out of all things- seemed to be the trigger, my happiness. The intensity of them appearing increased, so did their accusations, but the bottom line was the same, “murderer!”.
I think I forgot to mention their appearance, I apologize there are so many of them that I forgot. They all can be divided into groups from different time periods. From early humans- who just pointed and gestured wildly, then came the Greeko-romans and so on. You get my point, every civilisation since the dawn of humans was haunting me for some reason.
The reason became clear when I was up researching one night. I was looking into mysterious deaths and I recognized a face, a face that had become to me as familiar as my own. It was a Roman general who screamed “murderer!” more than anyone else. Curious I started reading, there wasn’t much about him as he was one of many as it was a group photo, there was no name just the circumstances under which they all died. Poison, they were all poisoned.
An unsettling sensation ran through me, but surely it was a coincidence. I tried to shrug off the feeling but it stayed with me, and now ever since I found out that the man actually existed, the frequency of ‘people’ appearing increased, which I didn’t think was possible, they continued to scream at me, I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, study was the furthest thing from my mind. It was after 2 sleepless nights that I decided to do some research into the history of most unusual deaths. As the morning dawned closer, my ears rang not from the screams but from silence. Absolute silence, the one before the storm. Instead, I found accusatory gazes directed at me as I read page after page and saw a lot of familiar faces and slowly the realization hit me, I was the murderer. I did murder all these people. These weren’t just ghosts; these were the people I had murdered in my past lives and none of them had gotten justice.
Horrified, I closed my laptop and looked at the ones present.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered; it was futile but the guilt had started to stick to my soul like a parasite.
A woman dressed in regal attire laughed hollowly. “Murderer.”
I closed my eyes as their voices once again got louder. My thoughts started to spiral out of control. Each of them was murdered by past-me, every single one of them. Maybe that was who I am, a murderer, it was proven true life after life. What if something happened that made someone else my victim. The thought made the bile rise up my throat. I couldn’t let that happen, could never let that happen. Through tears fogging my vision I saw a blade and, in that moment, it made perfect sense.
As the cold steel touched my wrist a sudden quiet filled the room. I had never felt more certain about anything in my life as I felt about the blade against my pulse. As the blood dripped down my wrist, I felt a calm spread over me, I was never going to hurt anyone again.
“He never did that,” was the last thing I heard.
*
I woke to white sheets and the beeping of the life-support machines.
No! I looked at the room, panicked. Didn’t they understand?!
It wasn’t until I saw the familiar pale face that I relaxed a bit.
“In all your lives, you never did that.” She said softly. Her voice was melodic like an angel and I felt guilt rushing up once more.
“I’m sorry.” I whispered as tears rolled down my cheeks.
She smiled softly. “This time, I know you are.”
I tried to say thank you but she was gone in a blink of an eye. I waited for them to turn up but no one did.
That was five years ago. I’m still trying to make penance for everything I did, trying to unearth the cause of death of the ones I could but they never appeared again.
**
[You can find more of my stories at r/iknowthisischeesy]
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kukfatx
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kuk8efu
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[WP] You open the door and see a woman you recognise immediately: she’s the lead character of a novel you wrote years ago. And abandoned halfway. “Why did you forsake me?”
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"HAHAHAHAHAHA Oh thank you dear, I haven't had that good of a laugh in years." I laughed in the cyborg's face, the shear absurdity of her statement being far funnier to me than it had any right to be.
"YOU THINK OUR SUFFERING FUNNY? YOU THINK THAT THIS IS A JOKE?" She raged at me, throwing the empty absinthe bottle at me from across the room.
"Okay, first of all, rude. Second of all, yes, extremely so. Let me explain. You come here, ripping through time and space under your own power, kicking the laws of thermodynamics in the balls and leaving them a shriveled mess on the floor. And you still don't understand, you came here from a point frozen in time and made it move under your own willpower. You killed not one, but THREE gods to gain the power necessary to reach into this meager plane. You did all of that with your own strength, you own power. And yet." I let that pregnant silence hang for a moment.
"You STILL come crying to me to fix the problem like a child who wants their mom to kiss their booboo. You want an end to your story so bad? Write it yourself, the Google doc is on the laptop in the front room. You clearly have quite the story to tell on your own, all that's left is for you to seize the opportunity yourself. You don't need someone like me to do it for you." I left the room to go drink some water as she was left, stuttering and appalled at me.
|
The woman stood next to the open window, hair raven black chopped off to her shoulders, scars trailing up and down her almost sickly white arms, legs and back, anywhere the skin was exposed. She wore a what was left of a dress, flowing down her body covering only what was necessary. I never judge what people wear in their own house, but I was 12 degrees outside and that window looked frosted so it couldn't have been very warm.Her back was to me, face never turning to look as she accused me of something I've never done.
"I'm sorry mam, I'm just the cleaner that you've hired." I jiggled the bucket that was in my left hand, the soap and rags moving inside to validated my reasoning. My right hand was still on the knob from when I opened the door.
She never acknowledged me, just continuing as if I had never spoke. "I've been waiting for him to come. Waiting for him to save me."
Now not entirely sure that I was in the right apartment, I stopped the door with my foot as I took my phone out of my pocket to double check. Yup apartment 345, north street, second building. I looked at the door to confirmed. I slid the phone back into my overalls. "Are you expecting someone else mam? I can come back if now is now a good time." My body already turning to leave, waiting for her answer.
At this the woman cocked her head to the right, slightly turning to look at me without ever moving the rest of her body. Her silhouette looking more familiar. Her nose was long and straight, something about it seemed proud. However seeing more of her face, I could tell she was in eminence pain. "Leaving again?" Her voice was soft, but the words themselves, hard and filled with rage. I almost ran but something kept me. "After all this time you leave as soon as I had any strength to find you?" She turned to face me as she spoke.
By the time she was facing me completely I knew her. But I shouldn't have known her, it wasn't possible. I must have spoken my thoughts, because she laughed. Not how I imagined her laughter, soft and light, like bells on a wind chime on a summer's day. No this laugh had no humor, it was deprived of life, and sounded awkward, as if she hasn't done it in years. "Oh, trust me I know it mustn't be possible. No, but I made it possible. I gave what was left of my soul to Gatroth, and I found you!"
Gatroth....yes. Gatroth that was his name. He is evil, is only quest was to fine eternal life, something that could only be taken from the purest of souls, the Princess. She, the last remaining child of the late king, all before her falling to the same man. She was captured and was being tortured, but nothing he could do to take her life, her soul. Only those willing to give away their souls could give immortality as well. But her knights, the love of her life, Bartholomew, they were on the way to save her. They are climing the mountain the last I wrote.
He words from before registering in my mind. "He's Coming, Jenora." I practically whispered this.
"WHEN!!!??" Jenora screamed this so loud the frosted window shook. "Its been years since he captured me! The pain was so unbearable, Kelley." Her voice so soft at the end I wanted to lean in. She clutched what was left of the beautiful gown I put her in the day he kidnapped her, however the last i knew, it was still intact, only the most minor problems done do it. This looked like it was pushed down a garbage disposal. "He wouldn't stop, no matter how much I pleaded." Tears weld in her brown eyes. "He never once let me rest."
I reached for her but she pulled away. "I don't understand, you have only been taken for a few days, and I made sure that what he did to you was nothing." She scoffed " Flattery mostly, just trying to let you willingly do it, he only just started to do anything painful when Bartholomew.." I didn't have a chance to finish my sentence.
"NEVER SAY THAT NAME AGAIN!!" I coward away. This time I was out of the room entirely, my hand only resting on the outside keeping it open.
"I'm sorry. But..he..they are just on the bottom of the mountain. Preparing to climb as we speek."
"Maybe long ago. But now he sits on my throne."
"Impossible!" I yelled on his defense " He loves you. I wrote him that way."
"Well you never finished our story, so we did ourselves." She stepped closer, not yet leaving the room. "And ours end together."
Her hand reached out as the door shuts, cutting her off.
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k3u4xyf
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k3twst8
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[WP] You’re a mimic. You were disguised as a clock when an adventurer decided to take you as loot. You’ve actually managed to enjoy your live ever since as furniture in a small, local tavern. When some ruffians decide to rob the now elderly adventurer however, you finally reveal yourself.
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"So, where are we again?" My mom asked. I sighed. "I told you before. We're in New Vegas, the year is 2277 and there was a global nuclear war a couple hundreds years ago."
"A couple hundred?" My mom said, looking at the dirty ground. "You're telling me in 200 years no one's bothered to clean up the floor?"
"Vegas, huh?" My dad said. "There's still some casinos?" I rolled my eyes. "Yes, there's still some casinos. Just be careful." I said. "One is run by a bunch of gangster wannabes, another is run by a bunch of cannibals and the other is run by one of those douchebags from the show Friends."
My dad fished his wallet out of his back pocket. "Oh dad," I said. "That money doesn't work here. The currency is bottlecaps. And you need 2,000 to get on the strip."
"Bottlecaps? As in bottles from sodapop bottles?" He said.
My mom laughed. "That's pretty dumb. How are you supposed to carry around those things? You need a giant rucksack just to haul those things around."
My dad nodded. "Yeah. And are certain caps worth more than others? Is a cap from a beer bottle worth the same as a sodapop? What if some are dented or damaged? Are those worth less?"
I sighed. "Look. I didn't decide it."
My mom looked off in the distance, northwards past Goodsprings. "Maybe we can cut through here, it's more direct to Vegas."
"NO!" I said. "That way is filled with Radscorpions, Cazadores and deathclaws."
"Oh my." My dad said. My mom laughed and I rolled my eyes.
Being stuck in the Mojave really does make you wish for a nuclear winter.
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"This'll sting a bit."
I looked away as she poked the needle of the stimpack into my arm, and I could feel the aches from getting my shit wrecked waking up right near a raider hideout immediately start to fade away. This was... both a dream and a nightmare.
You know what they say. A tour of duty in the Mojave wasteland makes you wish for a nuclear winter. And by fucking god, it was as hot in the game world as I expected. You'd think, with the hours I've put in- the experience I have with the world- I wouldn't have immediately nearly gotten killed.
In truth, I was lucky (maybe I could make my way to Goodsprings and actually test that), and gotten my ass saved. That was the dream part of this nightmare- living out in the literal post apocalypse, but...
But my mom was here. My mom, who had been taken from me when I was so small I could only remember her through photographs and old VHS tapes- but I kept those pictures close. Not a day went by that I didn't think of the what-ifs or what could have been. How much I could miss someone I could barely remember, how her absence felt like a hole in my life I could never fill.
And here she was. She obviously didn't recognize me. I had grown up- I had *transitioned,* how would she recognize me?
It was surreal, seeing her come in: duster flapping in the desert breeze, iron in hand as she systematically took down the half dozen or so jackasses making a game out of kicking the stranger without even a gun to her name. Sure, I could swing a fist good enough to fend off like, one guy if he got too touchy, but this?
"There we go- honestly have no idea how those even work, but they've been a literal life saver out here in this hell."
I looked over at my mom, a little scandalized even with such a mild curse. Seeing her in the flesh... I could see bits of my sister in how she looked. A bit of the face I saw when I looked in the mirror, years on HRT as I was.
I think getting booted into this world might have sped some of that up, if what I'm feeling is right. At least I don't have to worry about finding hormones out here.
"Th-thanks, that was-"
"Terrifying?"
I just nodded, and she put a hand on my shoulder.
"What's your name, kid?"
I swallowed. This was nerve wracking, but... well, I didn't have any reason to hide anything. If anything, I just...
I needed her to know. I'd always wondered- dared to hope.
"Rachel. Rachel Miller."
She paused a second, smiling in that way that you found some coincidence funny.
"Miller- well, that's certainly something. I'm-"
"Carol Miller, right?"
She paused, that mirth changing to confusion- suspicion, even. I plowed forward.
"You used to manage a restaurant- and one morning, while opening, you and the opening crew let in one of your new hires. He had a gun."
"Kid," her tone was warning- in that way that masked fear, instead of anger- "I don't go telling that story, so answer quick on how in the hell you know that?"
I just looked at her- pleading, praying, hoping she'd get it. Her eyes met mine- dark brown against grey. She, my dad, even my sister had brown eyes- I came out the recessive lottery winner. Always felt like I stood out, compared to them growing up. Like I didn't exactly belong (not that they ever went out of their way to say otherwise.)
Her jaw went slack, and I hoped that was recognition on her face.
"... How long has it been?"
"Twenty years."
"Twenty..." The word came out with breathless shock. Silence stretched, and I needed to say something- but before I could, she reached out, with a tremor in her hands, as she delicately pressed a gloved palm to my face.
"You grew up."
I nodded, and felt that churning in my gut finally start to release, wet tears pooling at the corners of my eyes before she drew me into a hug.
"Did you... to get here, you didn't- not like me..?" the question hangs, unfinished from her.
"I don't know- I don't think so, but I don't remember, I just," My throat felt tight, but I tried to force out the words anyways, "I just fell asleep, then woke up in a fucking *video game* with my *dead mom* saving me from a bunch of asshole raiders!"
"Language," She says, more like an afterthought, and I squeeze right into the hug, "God... I told Richard I was having a daughter. Goes to show what any of those doctors knew, huh?"
I laughed at that- a bit wet and weakly- but for this single, solitary moment, everything I had ever hoped came true.
"Now, what in the world do you mean by *video game?"*
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mk3pok3
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lp20igw
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[WP] You never asked to be a hero. People just expected it of you. The only reason you played along is because there were actual threats to the city. When a new 'villain', who wants control of the city themselves, puts a stop to the other villains, the hero decides he needs to talk with the new guy.
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The conversation is succinct. No pleasantries exchanged. Just you, the hero, and he, the villain. You didn’t ask for this, the role was thrust upon you, like the groin of a man you don’t know upon a forgotten dancefloor in a frat basement. Why were you the hero? And he the villain? Surely it was heroic to rid the city of villains? The myriad ambivalences of the populace, the seesawing ebbs and flows of public opinion. Tomorrow you could be the villain and he the hero. But for tonight you wore the cape of the heroic and landed looking dashing in his lair.
He sat behind a mahogany desk, just a man with a revolver. A revolver you both knew couldn’t harm you. He steepled his fingers and looked over them at you. “The hero?” he hazarded a guess. And you replied “Yes.” Like you were supposed to.
“It would seem my war on crime has been more successful than yours. I drew them all from their ragged depths and brought them to the light.” He said spreading his hands to encompass the bodies which burned around you. Villains you had fought for years, swooped up and deposited here in a high rise in Manhattan. He had no henchmen. He was surrounded by no lackeys. He just sat and stared, and his fingers fell to the gun toying with it, twisting it about the desk. He spun it once and the muzzle swung round towards you.
“You first then,” he says picking up the gun. “These bullets do you know what they are made of?”
“Lead? Steel? Iron? Brass?” You guess and he chuckles. “Irradiated graphite.” He smiles darkly. “Highly radioactive and possibly lethal even to you. Would you like to play a game?” He asks innocently.
You eye the weapon, not sure if your powers can shield you from this. It’s the indecision he counts on. And he spins the revolver again so that it lands pointing at him. “We will ask a series of questions. I’ve only loaded one bullet. I only have one such bullet mined from the ruins of Chernobyl herself but no less lethal for the years that have passed.”
“So, go on then, ask me why, ask me why, ask me why they all burn.”
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The celestial being, Chad, was a worrisome character. Having started off as a lower angel, he continuously failed to meet standards. Few know that before the fall of man, higher beings had standards to maintain their status as an angel. Once accepted, it was no piece of cake.
Checking in on the evolution of the beasts was a daily task that no one liked. It wasn't simply a matter of walking the earth and smiling at the Tyrannosaur. It required getting dirty and digging through their dung to make sure that even the microscopic bacteria were getting their nutrients. Chad just simply refused.
"I ain't gonna play in that shit!" he said as his supervisor Michael brought him into the "Big Man's Office" as Chad liked to say. "I'm not the "big man", Michael always said. "Unfortunately, Chad. I'm going to have to demote you."
"Yo, bruh, that's toilet rizz!' Chad exclaimed.
"Lucifer is excited to work with you. He's very good at getting beings back on the Angel track."
Chad dragged his feet out of the office.
Centuries passed as Chad worked as a demon. Being a brat, one would think he'd enjoy it. Demon work is a lot less fun than people think.
Contrary to popular belief, demons don't terrorize people for enjoyment. They're only allowed to do so if approved of by Lord Lucifer for the person's self-growth. Did they learn self-love? Have they learned to forgive others? There was a lot of bureaucracy to filing a torture proposal.
Chad didn't like completing the necessary paperwork.
"Bruh, this job is big time cringe. Paperwork for torture?" He said as Overlord Belial in a one-on-one coaching session.
"That's part of the gig, Chad. You pay your dues. You move up, you get to randomly possess people and freak out their pastors. It's something to aspire to." But Chad wasn't that motivated.
Centuries passed with this back and forth. Chad was in and out of the gates of heaven, but also the gates of hell. No one knew what to do with him, but none of the archangels had the courage to bring it up to Jehovah. As a god, Jehovah was known for his short fuse. Once he got so mad, he let it rain for 40 days and 40 nights, killing almost everyone and not to mention the ones left on the boat were drenched. After that, no one liked bringing issues up to him.
Deep down, everyone liked Chad, he was just lazy. Gabriel once suggested bringing it to God himself, but then God rained fire and brimstone on the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah, so the angels stayed silent.
Everyone knew Jehovah was about to have his very own human child. There was even a betting pool on how big of a baby it would be. Would it be a boy or a girl? No one really knew. The upcoming board meeting of archangels was to plan the entrance of this child.
The meeting began when Jehovah arrived. He strode into the room like he owned the place. All the archangels felt obligated to stand like a judge entering the courtroom. Michael trembled as the agenda was passed around. Jehovah cleared his throat and looked at Michael.
"Next item on the agenda is the celestial being known as Chad. Chad? Who is this Chad? Why have I never heard of this 'Chad'?
Michael nervously looked around the room. Gabriel averted his eyes. Raphael and the others? Silence. Archangel Michael was on his own.
"Yes, sir"
"Yes, what?!" An irritated look stroke Jehovah's face.
"Sorry, Yes, my Lord"
Jehovah's face relaxed as Michael continued.
"We don't know what to do with Chad. He's never completed any of the training programs and seems be, what's a good word, resistant to any of the instruction we give him," Michael explained.
Gabriel finally chimed in, "We would have brought him up before, but we thought we could handle it. One thing led to another, and this problem really snowballed into one heck of a problem, my Lord."
Jehovah pulled out a golden pair of glasses and put them on as if he needed them to see. "I see."
A long silence filled the room; you could feel the nervous breath of every being in the room.
"OH, Chad! My boy! I call him BCE, or BIG CHAD ENERGY"
A stunned look fell on every archangel in that meeting.
"Your boy?" Michael asked.
A childish giggle bubbled out of his eager smile. For once, a joyous Jehovah. A thing that the archangels had never seen.
"Yeah, Chad hits me up once a week or so. He showed me this plant I absolutely didn't realize I created. Turns out if you take the leaves of this plant, dry them out, roll them up. You can smoke them."
Everyone's chins dropped as the Lord explained the ins and outs of cannabis.
"Yeah, it's been a total gamechanger for me."
"But My Lord," Gabriel chimed in. "You've killed millions of people for even the slightest dietary offenses."
"Oh that?" Jehovah laughed. "Look, don't worry about Chad. In fact, let's get him a seat at this table, shall we? In fact, have him be my stand-in. I've got a kid coming, I'll be out-of-office for the next two thousand years or so."
From that day forward, Chad was the President of the Board of Archangels, or as he wished to be known as: "J-dogg's Stand-In."
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j5qhrnt
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j5pq1lm
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[WP] A bunch of the wizards' college students are arguing about which magical focus is superior. Staffs, wands, orbs, books, nobody agrees on anything. Then the newest student offers a rather unusual alternative.
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"I don't understand. How is this better than a staff?"
"Please, how is it *not*? Your average staff weighs, what, a couple kilos? And you want to be lugging that around all day? This baby lugs *you* around."
"Ok, but can it contain as many spells as a grimoire? My grimoire has the complete works of-"
"Yeah, yeah, no, don't even think about space. Four people, plus 375 litres storage. This baby has capacity for *days*."
"Look, I'm sorry, I think it's interesting, but I just really don't think see how it's actually magical."
"Not magical?! At 65 miles per gallon, it's the most magical thing in this whole damn school."
"Hmmm. What kind of focus did you say this was again?"
"A Ford."
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I will present you, today, with an method of spellcasting that I regret missing out on earlier. It is the most natural, and in my opinion, the most potent form of spellcasting one will find out in our cosmos.
First, think. No, not like that. Don't think with your head. You have to use your head to conjure up the spell's actual properties, the things that make the spell work on a logistic level.
No, I don't want you to think with your head.
First, think with your *body.*
Think through your heart, each beat sending out an idea to the rest through your physical system with beats of blood, each one thumping loudly, that will get across exactly what you want to do.
Now, thinking through your body, using your heart as a catalyst, choose the spot where you feel that thought is the most comfortable. Go ahead, choose it. It doesn't have to be where it's the strongest, or the loudest, heck, even the most interesting. Choose the spot of your body where you want that thought to reside in. It's tough, trust me, but eventually, this will be instinctual. You will settle in a spot, and that spot will soon feel like it was *built* for casting spells. Nothing else. Just spellcasting.
Now, using your heart again, imagine it as a well. No, it's not empty, nothing but air. No, it's a well*spring*. It's filled with nothing but that raw, magical energy. Yes, yes, just like that. Feel that? That's your heart generating magical energy. It's going to go somewhere. It's going to go to that comfy place, where that thought is going to manifest it into magic.
See what I mean, here?
Now, with your mind, think about what spell you want to cast. Alright, a small wound curing spell, long distance, for temporary help before a stronger magical connection can be established at close range. Got it.
Now, think about that in your mind. Don't lose focus, you can't afford to do that, keep your mind on it...
YES! There! See? See? That poor rabbit over there just got healed. No focus... well, *you* were the focus that time, see?
Now, using yourself as a focus has a couple benefits. For one, you don't need to transport anything to act as one. You *are* your own powerhouse. No need to write down the spells so that you can channel energy into it, or having to use a wand to draw that energy out for you, or an orb, so that your magic can be more potent than if you couldn't otherwise.
No, using yourself as a focus is immensely useful. It effectively turns you into your own natural weapon, able to do anything that you actually know *how* to do. If you can both summon that magical energy to where it's best channeled out of your own body, and can memorize the spells that you should be using, then you really don't *need* an external focus. You don't need to channel your spell into anything, because, after much research, that actually *dilutes the power of the spell*.
See, your magical energy that comes from your soul *wants* to be inside you. Yes, it can normally regenerate, outside of specific birth defects like Cerrirepleria(latin for Weird Refill Abnormal State, I think?), but that doesn't mean it's not maintaining lots of other stuff. Having it go *through* anything that isn't you weakens it. It's effectively being forced to punch through a wall before being transformed into what it's supposed to do. Your magical energy is *tired*. So , being able to bypass that wall entirely means that your magical energy is quite literally *more potent*. It's stronger, fresher, and when it's transformed through your spell, it does its job better. After this, just training your Soul and studying spells becomes all you really need to do. No maintenance necessary.
Now, are there any questions?
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mhe363v
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mhdp2up
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[WP] You are a patron deity that physically appears before your followers in order to reward them for loyal service. Usually, they like to fulfill their darkest desires, so you’re completely caught off guard when one of them asks to feel “the embrace of a parent.”
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I appear in a small meadow, just outside the Deathless Mountains.
In front of me kneels a mortal, a believer, someone I have chosen, someone I have blessed.
Today, for their undying loyalty, I appear before them in my physical form, to reward them.
I don't know how I look to the mortals, but they always cry out "Mother Void!", with teary eyes, and smiles on their faces.
This one isn't different.
"Speak thy wish, and I shall fulfill it, for thy work hasn't gone unnoticed, my child." I said to my follower.
I awaited the usual asks, unlimited power, men, women, wealth, eternal life, but his wish was...
Unexpected.
"I wish to feel the embrace of a parent." he muttered.
I looked at the mortal.
He was a man, and for a mortal he was already in their twilight years.
So I expected the wish to be something along the lines of eternal life, health, something like that.
But nonetheless, the wish was made.
I spread my arms, and before I could say anything, they rushed into my embrace.
I hugged him gently, and he hugged me so tightly, that if I were a mortal...
My corporeal form might have taken damage.
I kept hugging him, as I felt his body shiver.
He was...crying?
Mortals' emotions, and thought process was alien to me, other than the greed related ones.
So with a gentle touch, I read this follower's mind.
From a tender age, having lost their parents, they were raised to be a forest ranger...
They saw loss again and again, while trying to protect the forest that gave them a feeling of warmth.
Once, when almost dying against some Church of Fire priests, he met me.
I blessed him for protecting my domain, and ever since then he gave his life for my cause.
Not long ago, he vanquished a dragon rider, and their dragon, saving an ancient forest, one of the first ones on this planet.
That's why I came to reward him.
Lost in his memories, I could feel his hug relaxing.
I sighed.
I gently lowered his body onto the grass, and kissed his forehead.
"Rest, my child.
You deserve it." I said, closing his eyes, as his body was getting colder and colder.
His soul has left, joining my divine domain, as all of my followers do.
From the place I kissed his forehead, a sapling bloomed, slowly growing into a towering oak, his body nowhere to be seen.
I smiled.
In life, in death, he honors me, and protects his home.
With a last blessing on this meadow, I left, journeying the universe.
Life doesn't rest.
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In a small room strewn with pottery depicting strange scenes, silver coins of all nominations, chalices with meandering ornamentations, to marble statues of a man and a woman holding an arch with their arms covering the ceiling and spilling out into its peak.
There stood a chair of wood, its back chipped and charred, from under it spilled out darkness from the under the arch. It was lit by the only light coming from a small window opposite of the small room. On this throne sat a vaguely visible thing, not quite there, yet shimmering in a cloak of blue and purple. The thing’s head was opaque and yet drew the eyes of the two children standing in front of it.
The older child was supporting the smaller and weakly child with his right shoulder. Clutching her hand with his other. He looked straight at the thing and began to speak in a small voice.
“I have come to ask for a boon, city of mine.” faltering after the commonly known nicety, and looking to his care, frowning and looking back up. He continued: “I… I… did things for the soldiers on the market gate.”
“I helped them with getting arrows and bolts. I got them wine and got one of their dice when it fell down the stairs. I even threw a rock on the enemy, splattered her, I think.” his eyes fell to the floor recalling his deeds.
“*I was there, Pellas*” The thing said from three directions at once.
The boy recoiled from the strange sounds coming from the centre.
“*I was there on the battlements, I was there in the tower, I was there at the gates, I was there for every shot, every howl, and every cheer*” the thing continued. “*You and the other before you served and served well*” The thing barely moving said in a singular voice: “*Ask me your favour, your dream or your boon.*”
“Sir, city of mine” Pellas stumbling through, “Milise’s parents died and she’s alone now. And the Sergeant said you were an orphan cast out, so sir, city. Can you give her back her parents? You know it's hard for us out there”
“*You ask for another, not yourself, you ask for warmth, not cold calculated gain.*” The thing raised from its throne, a golf of warm air crept over the floor. “*Alas, Nimmus is wrong, I am no orphan. My parentage is that of cold rock, outcasts and strife.*” The thing stepped down from his small dias and crouched before the boy. The warmth was still there along with something bolder, stronger. Fresh and scented, there came another tithe of air from the figure robbed in blue and purple. “*You know that too, Pellas, but your request I cannot grant. It is the domain of far older and far stronger things than me.*”
The boy gathered his strength to look on the figure, trying to speak to it face to face. “City you can find something else, you’re a library and a university in you. You’re old and people say you're wise and that everything they ask comes true. They say you can give advice, give gold and riches.” The boy stood a bit straighter as he spoke, lifting his care a little as he did, nodding to her, he spoke again. “Surely there is someone to take care of her, something you can give her that is close enough to her parent to get her a home or a hearth. She won’t last long, the older boys are already looking at her all funny.” The boy was getting a fouler temper, a sharp pang of hatred came from somewhere in him.
The thing didn’t move. “*Pellas, levying me with things I cannot do and hurting over betrayal I have not met out is foolish.*”
The boy felt his cheeks reddening at being found out for his anger at adults. The shame froze over and made place for righteous outrage. “But if you can’t help…” he took a sharp breath. “There’s nothing to be… there isn’t fucking anyone!” The boy screamed the last words and began to get a feeling of exhaustion even he hadn’t experienced. The spiteful words rang out in the small room, filling it and then, slowly, dissipated.
As they did so, the boy felt calm yet weary. He gathered his charge and tried to turn around. But was stopped by, what felt like a hundred people laughing at a joke he’d missed or a song whose lyrics he did not understand crashing to an end.
“*Youth. My youngest, how frightfully self-righteous you are.*” the thing spoke as he touched the boy and his charge with his arms. “*I hereby grant your request. Go seek out those you want to her parents, and I shall have them obey.*”
The boy turned at the touch and was confused by the words. “No, I want her parents for her, not people you tell to feel for her.”
“*I granted your boon, as for the little one, she can ask her boon herself.*” the thing replied.
The little girl fluttered and began to stand. Tossing the boy's arm of her with strength that surprised her and frightened the boy a little too. “City of mine, I want my boon.” the girl spoke whilst the boy looked horrified at the wrong phrasing. The thing shrunk, or, crouched further to meet the girl face to face. “I want Pellas to have his parent back as well!”
“*Two have asked me to do things beyond my ken or could.*” the thing replied. “*Are we ever so clever when we are young. I shall not do a thing not done. But grant you some far too few know.*” the thing touched the boy and the little girl on their heads.
The room spun for them, their heads feeling light and foggy. As if struck by a raging tempest, they felt it. Love. The simplest love, the strongest love. The love of beauty and fairness and care and sacrifice. The room was empty as they sat embracing each other. Feeling not a thing more, and nothing less than love for one another.
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jh644oc
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jh4bqrx
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[WP] The men in your family die the moment they turn 18, due to a curse cast on one of your ancestors by a witch. You turned 18 a week ago and are still living, and as a result a descendant of the witch has arrived to figure out why you didn't die.
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The witch looked around my room for a while after I had let her in. Then, around my house. After a while, she turned to me. “Where is he?”
“Where is who?” I asked.
“The boy who lives here!” she demanded.
“There is no boy who lives here,” I said. “There’s only me.”
The witch pulled a book from her satchel, skimming through it. “No… no, there should definitely be a boy here. Man, now, I guess. Did he move? How long have you been living here?”
“My whole life,” I said. “Eighteen years.”
She stared at me, puzzled. “But…”
I could tell she was getting flustered, so I decided to explain. “Everyone always thought I was a boy,” I said. “Growing up, that’s what I was told. And I was told I would die on my eighteenth birthday because of it. I always knew, deep down, I wasn’t really a boy, but everyone in my family was convinced that my attempts to dress differently and grow my hair out was just an attempt for me to try and get out of the family curse.” I smiled. “There were times I doubted myself. Wondered if they were right about me. But when the clock struck midnight on my eighteenth birthday, that was confirmation that I had been right all along.”
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She showed up outside my door one night in the form of a fierce wind. Dark and foreboding, her powers buffeted the house, searching for an answer. Any ordinary person might have assumed a hurricane or tornado was on its way, and check the weather forecast in confusion, but I knew.
I felt a sinking feeling in my chest, the chest too flat that didn't fit the bras I stuffed with socks and underwear that matched the parts of this body I was born in. Somewhere there was a god laughing at their cruel joke, trapping me in a male body cursed to die at 18. And yet, maybe I could have the last laugh after all. For I didn't die on my birthday, like all the men in my family have before. My mother's screams echoed in my head, my aunts holding her back while glaring at me out of the corners of their eyes. Their hatred was palpable. "Why does that abomination get to live while Lucas had to die!?" She had shrieked. The next day, my aunts had dumped me at this little shack in the middle of nowhere with the few belongings I had. One of them had thrown the bras I'd smuggled at my face. "Now you can live out your little fantasies until you die, you wicked ******," she had snarled at me before getting in the car and driving away. And then I had sat here, waiting.
The next morning, there was a knock at the door. I opened it, and the young woman standing there stared at me in confusion. "I'm sorry, are you not Matthew Waters?" She asked. The sinking feeling grew. "That is what they named me when I was born, but I go by Maddy now," I said, hating how deep my voice sounded.
"So you ARE Matthew Waters?"
Rage. That is the only way to describe how I felt in that moment. I had spent my whole life under the weight of a curse for a gender the world said I had to be, and now that I was finally free, SHE had to throw it right back in my face. A curse of my own I could never escape.
I wanted to scream at her, grab her by the shoulders and shake her, make her understand what living in this body was like, but I couldn't. She had what I never could. In that moment, I reached a decision. If I didnt stand up for myself now, I never would. "No, I'm not." I said, seeing the confusion in her eyes and hating her and the world for it.
"But, you just said-" she started, but I cut her off.
"There was a girl born to that name, born to a curse they said she would inherit simply because of the body she was born in, but I guess even the curse couldn't deny who I am. I am NOT Matthew Waters. I am Maddy, and I am NOT a boy."
I watched the understanding dawn in her eyes, and I hated that too. I hated all of it, and I felt something build deep down inside of me, red and black and twisted and powerful. The woman startled, feeling it too. "My word," she breathed. She raised a hand, forming a spell, but I raised my hand, too, and something dark shot out and swallowed her spell. I felt perfect clarity within me.
"If the world won't accept me for who I am, then I'll burn it to ash and breathe the flames of the damned. This curse, this world, this body will no longer define me. They call me an abomination, so I'll become what they hate and drown them in their fear."
"Wait." I looked at her. "Let me help." She waved a hand, but this time I didn't stop her. A strange tingling sensation came over my body and I stared down in disbelief as my bra filled out, the bulge in my underwear softened and disappeared, and my vocal cords thinned and shortened. I looked at her, disbelieving what she had just done. She held a hand out to me. "I'm so sorry I didn't see at first. That was wrong of me. If you like, I can be the first you destroy." Her gaze softened, and she looked up at me. "Or, we can burn this cruel world together." The possibilities of what could come swirled around in my head with the realization of the transformation she had just completed. "Thank you." The high voice that was now mine broke off with emotion, and she smiled at me, still holding out her hand. I now felt perfect peace, and perfect indignation. I took her hand in mine.
"Together."
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l6ul8tc
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l6ukxp2
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[WP] Technology has finally advanced to the point where humans can get surgery to see colors invisible to them before. However, this ends up letting them see things humans were never meant to comprehend…
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In the end, we just wanted it to be beautiful.
Anyone could get the surgery. The old. The young. It had a 100% success rate and would open up new worlds for you, but… over time, people stopped signing up. People stopped opting into the surgery. Why?
Once you’d seen it, you would remember for eternity.
Behind the pale of lights spectrum, hidden in the void between colours we were never supposed to see, was the truth etched in pigment. Something so beautiful, so profound, that anyone who saw it understood that they had to be a part of it. They had to be close. They had to…. No matter the cost.
The first man to see the truth was Jeremiah Settler, who’d been mid-interview, expounding the wonderful world etched in a trillion new colours when his eyes began to burn. Jeremiah staggered forward on live tv, reaching out to a colour he alone could comprehend, whispering in a thousand tongues about its beauty and majesty.
He reached for the colour. He reached the truth in the middle of traffic.
Later, a woman I knew, Sandra Flint, got the surgery. She raved to me about her results, telling me that even her mediocre garden was a paradise on earth once she understood colours.
Then she saw it, the truth. At that point, we knew how it worked and we could see the signs. Her eyes had been burned red and bloodshot the next time I saw her. She’s resisted but her words were shaking, unsure as she spoke to me about how happy she was.
Sandra gave in and found the truth at the bottom of the lake. They recovered her smiling body two weeks ago.
Every light in my house is off. I’m in the windowless basement. When my eyes are open I can only see the dark, but every time I close them? Every time I close my eyes, I feel the burning behind my corneas. Every time I close my eyes, I see it. I see its brilliance. I see its majesty. I see its….
I see the truth.
I don’t need to see to know I’ve carved red lines into my wrists and cheek. I don’t need to see to know I was going insane. I didn’t need to see to…
I didn’t need to see anything other than it. I could see it now. There was a rotary saw in my basement. The truth was right there, under it. Resplendent. Stunning. Vibrant. Everything I wanted to see.
In the darkness, I couldn’t see anything, but when as the saw’s scream filled the room, and I closed my eyes, I saw it.
They could find me in a bloody basement, but they would find me smiling.
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Growing up, I was always the burden child. My older sisters were twins. Maria and Marigold. They were always so mean towards me, and I never understood why. Maybe it was because I was younger than them, or maybe it was the fact that I was colorblind. But I was only younger by two years, so they probably just thought I was weird for not being able to see as well as them. The twins always got everything they wanted whether it be toys, money, or electronics. I envied them.
The only present I had ever received growing up was a computer. Maria and Marigold always received presents when it was my birthday, so presents didn’t mean much to me at all. I valued this computer with all of my heart. I received it when I was ten years old, and I moved out with it the second I had turned 18 years old.
The computer helped me realize how much of a tech nerd I was. Although I couldn’t see, the internet revealed to me how important I was and I was really valued more than I thought. I found a website that was a community for colorblind people. None of my family had even bothered to reach out to me since I had graduated, so I resorted to this website as a safe haven. It was somewhere I didn’t feel judged, somewhere I felt like I belonged.
I had formed many connections on this site, and I had even found an online partner, Cash. He was the love of my life. We even met in person and went out on a couple dates. He worked in the medical industry, and he was close with many doctors, nurses, and surgeons. This was always so fascinating to me, because I was never able to afford college even though I wanted to.
One day, Cash reached out to me. He sent me a message and told me that some of his friends had been working on a surgical experiment about helping people to see more clearly, and to see more colors. The project was completed, and they needed someone to be a test dummy for the surgery to be approved to the public. Since we were both colorblind, we both wanted to try it, and just in case anything went wrong, we would have each other.
Although I was a little bit hesitant to try it, Cash really wanted me too. He begged and pleaded, and I really was just so in love with him that I couldn’t say no.
We arrived at the hospital. Cash lead me to the surgical room and it made me realize how big and empty the hospital really was. There were so many turns and different doors we had to go through until we had finally reached the surgical room. I had a bad feeling about this, but I just couldn’t let him down, I would feel guilty about it for the rest of my life.
They gave us our anesthesia and put us in separate rooms. I was out like a light and I was relieved on how well the anesthesia had worked, because I had a secret fear that I would wake up in the middle of a surgery.
When I did wake up however, everything was so bright. I noticed two things. One, the picture on the wall with a rainbow on it had six different sections for six different colors, but I was seeing about seventeen colors. Two, there were so many people just wandering the hallways, and there were about 15 people in my operating room when the only people allowed in there were the medical professionals.
I was almost so distracted by all of the voices in the hallway that I almost forgot to ask them what the hell they were doing in here.
“What are you doing in here? Get out! Only the doctors are allowed in here!” I yelled at the strangers that were basically invading my privacy. They didn’t respond however, and they all looked at me with a bit of surprise on their faces, but then the shock faded into sadness.
“I’m sorry it had to end up this way,” One of the strangers said.
“Yes, you were so beautiful,” Another one added on, “but atleast you will be at peace now.”
I was flattered, offended, and confused at the same time. I yelled for the nurse because the random people in my hospital room were just making me feel so uncomfortable, and I needed privacy and space to recover from what just happened to my vision. Thankfully, the nurse ran over to my aid.
“Can you please tell these people to get out? I don’t know what they are doing in my room and it is making me so uncomfortable.”
The nurse turned her head at me in confusion. “I see you are awake now, but there is no one else in the room. Are you okay? Do you need some water?”
The look on each of the strangers faces were unforgettable. Every single one of them was looking at me, with their mouths wide open. They all kept looking at each other, and then back at me. I was confused too, almost perplexed.
“In the nicest way possible, nurse, do you need glasses? There are random people I have never seen in my entire life all just staring at me in my hospital bed.”
“No, Mrs. Rosenthal, I have 20/20 vision. You must be hallucinating, as it is a symptom of the anesthesia. I’ll grab you some water, and you need some time to wake up and take in the world around you,” the nurse said. I could tell there was some annoyance in her voice. I must have offended her, but that really didn’t matter because there were still 15 people in my room, and none of them were a hallucination.
“Mrs. Rosenthal, is it?” One of the younger strangers said.
“Yes, what’s it to you? Why are you here?” I added, still so annoyed as to why they hadn’t left yet.
“We are dead, all of us.”
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juj5qet
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juizwbt
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[WP] You're standing at the altar, about to get married to your beautiful fiancée. When suddenly the king of demons bursts through the door of the room, which naturally causes panic. You tried to warn everyone that inviting your sibling to the wedding would mean trouble, but they kept insisting.
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"David, you've got to handle this" I whispered" You promised we'd be safe!"
It's really hard being brother to David the Demon-Slayer. I've been kidnapped, tied-up, beat-up and left for dead. It took me months to regain my strength and Julia was there to nurse me through the worst of it.
I've never been jealous of Dave despite what the tabloids would have you believe. He's a skilled warlock who's managed to save the city twice from destruction. They gave him a parade and the key to the city. I'm genuinely happy for him. But I don't have powers and he's got powerful enemies. I try to stay away and keep a low profile.
But for the important events in your life everyone says you can't keep you family out of them. I thought perhaps we'd be able to avoid the danger.
"I'M NOT HERE TO CAUSE YOU HARM HUMAN" the Demon King Bellowed.
"But you and David have vowed to kill each other!" I protested.
"BE THAT AS IT MAY", the Demon King Continued. " TODAY IS NOT THE DAY FOR BATTLE, SIT DOWN EVERYONE, I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO ATTEND MY DAUGHTER'S WEDDING."
Our guests continued to stand, as I felt my head start to spin a little. Julia was the Demon King's Daughter? What did this mean? I thought her parents were dead!
David looked at me with amusement as he said "Well, you sure know how to pick em. Jim"
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Today was perfect. I'm marrying the woman of my dreams, Jill, our families are here. Well some of them. As I watched everyone getting settled, I hope, deep down, Seth won't show up. Please let him forget.
If only Kelsey never mentioned him, I wouldn't have invited him. More accurately, if Kelsey stayed sober and didn't blab during the bachelorette party.
"I'm sorry, but he is our older brother," Kelsey told me as she fought the hangover the next morning.
"Now Jill wants me to invite him," I told her, "and he's our half-brother."
"Stop screaming, Jesus, my head hurts," Kelsey groaned.
I took a deep breath, as the wedding march began. Then, the lights began to flicker. I closed my eyes and prayed it just an electrical problem. Then the lights went out, the music stopped as well. The emergency doors burst open from my left as a figure stepped inside. Everyone began to panic, well, everyone who don't know Seth.
A young man dressed in a dapper dark suit walks in. Horns protruded from his forehead, his eyes dark with a red glow. His tail whipped around slightly as he looked around. Everyone began to panic.
"Oh my God, are we being cursed!" Jill's aunt shouted.
"Nobody is getting cursed," I assured the guests and walked up to Seth.
"Good to see you, younger brother," Seth greeted, his voice cold and soft.
"Can't you look more human? Please?" I asked.
"They already saw me as is, why change? I'm here as my true self, it's some of these people you be weary of. They are the ones with masks," he told me.
"Well, it's my wedding day, please?"
"You know this creature?" Sam, my soon-to-be-father-in-law, shouted.
Jill looked as shocked as her family. She looked at me, wide eyed.
"Of course he knows me, he invited me, upon the request of your daughter," Seth told him.
The Reynards looked confused and startled. They all looked over at Jill, who just stammered, "I-I-I didn't know."
"Just take your seat," I mumbled.
Seth leisurely walked to his seat.
"No! We are not going to continue this wedding!" Sam boomed.
The Reynards began to get up, mumbling amongst themselves. Sam began to drag Jill away, when all the doors slammed shut. I looked at Seth, who's hand was raised in the air.
"I am merely a guest here, Samuel. Besides, this is your daughter's choice to end it. Do not make things worse for yourself," Seth said.
The way Seth said that made it sound like he knew Jill's dad. Sam glared at him, but I have to stop this before it gets worse.
"Let them go," I told him.
Seth looked up at me.
"Just let them go," I repeated.
Seth kept he eyes on me as he waved his hand. The doors opened up again. The Reynards and guests fled. I watched Jill go, probably for the last time. The only ones remaining in the church was Kelsey, Seth, and I.
"I told you this was a bad idea," I told Kelsey, loosening my tie.
"Isaac, I did not intend to ruin your wedding," Seth said.
He sounded... hurt. This emotionless being has feelings?
"Well, I guess it wasn't meant to be," I said.
"Jillian adores you. Give her time," Seth told me.
"Yeah, you both were crazy in love. But why didn't you tell her about Seth?" Kelsey asked me.
"Look at him," I snapped, pointing at Seth.
"Do I embarrass you, younger brother?" Seth asked coldly.
"He's a fucking demon! King of Demons! How was I going to tell that to Jill? To anyone? He's... A monster," I told Kelsey, ignoring Seth's question.
Kelsey slapped me, which I did not expect, "He's our brother. He may seem cold and heartless, but he cares. Who do you think got your tuition for Harvard? Or helped us go through Mom and Dad's death? Or helped me go through the worst night of my life?"
"Worst night?"
Kelsey wiped away her tears and hugged herself. She looked away, sobbing softly.
"What happened?" I asked, looking at Seth and Kelsey, even Seth looked away.
"I was assaulted, and Seth came to my rescue. You were away at college, and Uncle Mike was away at work. Somebody broke in and..." Kelsey trailed off and began to cry, but I pieced the pieces together.
I embraced Kelsey as she bawled on my shoulder. Why didn't she say anything? Did Uncle Mike know?
"I'm sorry Kels," I said.
I looked up at Seth, who just stood there awkwardly. I extended my arm and soon we were in a group hug.
"Everything will be okay," Seth told us warmly.
And I believe him.
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k98qwme
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k98h2wr
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[WP] In a world where at age 10 you pick your superpower, you picked the seemingly harmless one. Yet now at 26 you are considered the most powerful person in the world
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I chose the ability to take pain away. This resulted in having legions of followers willing to die for me, kill for me, give me everything they have.
When I made the choice my friend broke her arm and I thought it would be a nice thing to do for her, it was, but it didn’t just take the aches of sore muscles and bones, it took all her pain. ALL OF IT. The pain in her soul from her lost grand parents, the pain from seeing the school bully, the deep pain we all feel daily as a result of living in constant fear of the unknown. I take it all!
My power takes away people’s free will; free will is predicated from pain; pain is our motivator; taking away their pains takes away their fear of pain, ultimately taking away who and what they are.
Now at 26, I have legions of followers; soldiers; thugs if you will, that have no fear and are willing to do as I want, and what I want is to burn it all to the ground.
I have never been able to take my pains away.
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I quietly watched them bring me in chains to a large circular room. Men and women like me sat across the table. Each different, yet the same as me in one regard: We all had special abilities we chose as children sixteen long years ago. Staring with mixed emotions in their eyes at my state before them. I took a seat to await the fate of their decision. Each of my guards seemed nervous from even such a slight movement as that. With their hands cautiously on their nightsticks, while I simply ignored such inconsequential little figures compared to the real "threats" in the room. A woman near the center of the table with her hair in a bun sighed, reading a thick file with my name plastered in bold text on the front. She seemed to be speed reading or something equivalent from the way she was rapidly turning the pages. The grim silence of the room was more unnerving than the fact they had all come here. Only the rapid turning of the pages ending with a small slam while the file closed with a glow. She pinched her nose looking forward at me with annoyance.
"Why would you pick that for an ability?" She outright asked. I should have been stunned by her abruptness, but it was a fair question even I wish I knew the answer to. The cuffs clinked while I held my hands up a bit to shrug. I was 10, so I couldn't even remember what possessed me to ask for it. I mean the ability was cool and all. Just with complications... resulting in annoying meetings like this.
"Would I don't know suffice?" I answered snarkily, drawing a few snickers from less serious members across the table. She stood up, glaring down at me without any sort of fear.
"We are here at 3 IN THE DAMN MORNING BECAUSE OF ALLEGATIONS AGAINST YOU. I will not hear your bullshit right now! Are you a Hoard INC agent Mr. Lychell or NOT?" She screamed spittle flying from her mouth. I smiled feeling sparks flicker at a low buzz under the chains. Other members across the table attempted to calm her down. Suddenly, a fireball exited another member's hand striking the desk. A fire extinguisher was produced, and it was quickly dealt with. He profusely apologized to other members who eyed him dubiously.
A third person collapsed suddenly. Blindly looking around for help from others only mere feet away. Crying for help, while he visibly struggled to move his limbs. Movement eventually ceasing entirely. Strangled small cries coming from the back of his throat. The woman with the bun turned her attention back to me.
"YOU! I KNOW YOUR DOING THIS. CEASE AT ONCE OR I'LL-" She began, clutching her heart in a sudden beat. Short look of horror in her eyes, until falling beside the other member on the ground. Weakly gasping in short bursts of pain. Only an empty stare from her face. My chains melted like butter to the ground. Other members who even showed their abilities fell similarly to the other two. Dead or alive, I didn't care in the moment. Screams from outside emerged into the doors. Armed gunmen in full tactical armor resembling soldiers flood into the gates. Civs were pushed into a corner by them with their guns raised. I smiled watching the quick exchange of authority shift in the room. Every other superpowered individual fell only unconscious. The leader unmasked his helmet, showing his face to me. Bowing. His sharp inhuman features only further terrifying hostages shrinking back in primal sense of fear.
"The other Barons of the Hoard send their regards. I'm at your disposal sir. Escape has already been arranged on the roof, but we'd need to move quickly if we plan to do so... unless... you intend to stay" He asked face alight with a psychotic smile. I smiled back, placing a hand on his shoulder. Without a word he understood, sparks entering his skin. Barking orders, remaining forces exited the bloodbath. Sound of sirens faintly off in the distance. With a loud BOOM behind us, a shockwave shook the air.
And this was only the beginning....
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lgqq2ba
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lggx5eq
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[WP] You squealed as the heroes unmasked and kissed in front of the roaring crowds. Wait…you recognize their faces…that’s YOUR best friend and YOUR girlfriend/boyfriend.
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"Hello and welcome back to Good Friday Seattle! As promised before the break, we have a special guest. A former lover of the super hero Magnetica who recently revealed her secret identity and relationship with Skylar Storm. We have all now been briefed of their normal names Matty Hernandez-Smith and Skie Storm. So go ahead and introduce yourself and explain your relationship with Matty."
"Hi Regina, I'm Chris, and I would say me and Matty weren't exactly lovers per se."
"What do you mean? Didn't this betrayal come as a shock? I do feel sorry for you to find out that not only is your girlfriend a superhero, but she is dating your best friend as well, the very same woman who introduced her to you!"
"Well, I have known Skie since we were in grade school, and heck, I was the one to tell her she's a lesbian. *Her* family was ok with it. But Matty's, well her family is more conservative. You see, I wasn't introduced to me as Skie's friend, but as Skie's girlfriend, but there was no way she could date her openly. So they asked me to be her beard. Do you kno-"
"Oh, so you were her beard? That is most interesting! So
What made her change her mind and reveal she's a lesbian to not only her family, but the entire world?"
"Well, simply put, her parents became huge fans of the LGBTQ+ community when their baby, Matty's younger br- I mean sister came out as trans 2 months ago. So she popped the news to them, and they already knew, but didn't want to pressure her and were accepting of her closeted status. Turns out they weren't really homophobic as Matty had feared for the 3 years I was her beard."
"Ok, this is so interesting, but our time runs short, so I have but one last question. When did you find out she was a super?"
"Oh that, yesterday along with everyone else. Even though Skie's name was obvious, I guess I was just oblivious."
"And that is all the time we have for now, next up, and interview with Mr. and Mrs. Storm, Skie's parents!"
(I decided to do a more wholesome approach to it, there was a lot of edgy here and I needed a little bit of wholesome to balance it out.)
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Note: I have been up for 24 hours. Take my writing with a grain of salt, it is not top notch at this moment]
"Congratulations to Sproutfire and Crasher!" I spoke clearly into the microphone, my heels clicking towards the two heroes. Giving each being a handshake and drooping the sash of medals around their bodies, I couldn't help but to talk-- I am a big fan of the two. Crasher rolled away to the podium, beginning a speech. I stood next to Sproutfire... God, my heart is pounding. I have a little celebrity crush on her.
"I am so honored to give you these medals," I hummed out. I couldn't keep myself from smiling, which is a slight shame. Smiling makes my dimples pop, not that it matters which Sproutfire-- she does cover most of her face with plants, after all. "My girlfriend and I always watch you on the news!"
"Oh, really?" Sproutfire tilted her head at me, "Is she as cool as me, though?" I can't believe I'm getting to joke around with SPROUTFIRE. I am so telling Lily after this. Speaking of.
"Yep-puh!" I popped the p with little worry about how my breath smells. Celia double-checked for me during our morning hangout, and she was adamant that there was nothing in my teeth. "Even coolor, if you don't mind me saying," Sproutfire didn't seem to mind. Her face softened with a smile as she let me keep speaking, "Don't tell Lily I told her that, though– her head would grow taller than any tree you can make!"
Sproutfire shook her head and subtly leaned towards me, "I won't tell, don't worry. Can't have any rumors of someone cooler than me being around," I giggled at that. While looking at the crowd, I listened in.
I wouldn't really call it listening, but I always heard what others heard. Just the way they felt about their situations echoed-- sometimes quite loudly. But everyone seemed to be silent with awe. Perfect time to ask, then.
"Sproutfire, I have a favor to ask of you." I sucked in a breath as she quirked an eyebrow. Or, I like to believe she's did. Maybe she's just choosing to ignore me. But I would still like to ask, if not for the peace of knowing. I pulled out the ring out of my breast pocket.
"I got this ring for Lily," Sproutfire snapped her head towards me in shock. I took this as a sign to explain, "I haven't proposed to her yet, but she is such a special lady. And since we both like you, I was wondering if you can give your opinion on it? I asked my friend, Celia, about it but she didn't really give much of a response despite being a reincarnation of cupid-- her words, not mine. And I know this is weird and impulsive, but I thought I would need a second opinion... and what better than a superhero, right? Could you please give your opinion on the ring, because now I'm starting to ramble, and that's not in a good state to be in for tonight during our--"
"She'll hate it." My heart sank, and I looked down, "... I meant she will hate how much she'll love it. She'll..." Sproutfire seemed to pale a little. Hopefully, it isn't too cold for her-- I knew the ceremony should have been at noon, but Sproutfire said she would be fine! "She knows badly she loves you. And will regret it."
"Regret?" I nervously laugh, slipping the box back into my pocket. "I hope not. I mean, uh, even if she was to break up with me," I look out to the crowd, overjoyed with the simple fact that Lily is out there, watching her in the distance. "The last thing I would want for her is pain."
"Even if she hurts you?"
I blinked, looking back at Sproutfire with widened eyes. "She wouldn't hurt me," I said a little too fast. Slow down, me! "If she did, that wouldn't be Lily. We fight. Yeah. We love each other too much for that..."
"Just wondering." Did Sproutfire just hiss? "Also, what is tonight?"
"That's between Lily and I, Sproutfire," I smiled, "It's a special day, about us, to us... for us. I can't share that, even with you."
Sproutfire grimaced. "Tell me the day." That was weird. I didn't get the chance to respond, however, since Crasher's speech was over. Her speech was surprisingly short, but that meant she could go home earlier. It's the little blessings in life you have to keep.
Sproutfire grumbled, gritting her teeth. The teeth looked a little long, did they? No. Right? Before I could finish looking closer, however, Sproutfire suddenly pulled Crasher close.
"I am Lily." What.
Her plants across her face faded, and I gasped, flinging my hands over my mouth as I stepped back. It was my Lily. Blonde hair, freckled nose, scarred eyebrow... and purple eyes. Purple eyes? No, Lily's eyes were brown, not purple. Something is wrong.
Crasher pulled off her helmet, and all thoughts went out the window. Her jet black hair, her busted lip... purple. Why is it purple again?
The two looked at each other as if to ignore the world. They ignored the sudden wave of the audience screaming. They ignored the rampant flashing of lights. They even ignored me. I say they did a good job at ignoring how my world was falling apart.
The two held hands. Then, they held each other's arms. Held each other's bodies. Cupped each other's faces.
Lily and Celia leaned in. And I *squealed.*
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jbqp6bf
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jbph7lw
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[WP] You are a demon and you have been summoned by a mortal. He announced that he has brought you a sacrifice. Except it's the same teenaged girl that people have tried to sacrifice to you 5 times already
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Not this again. Seriously, not this again
\- "Mortal! Leave her be, and I'll leave and spare your soul. Continue this ritual, and **you** will be the sacrifice."
\- But Master..."
\- "**I have spoken!**" - thunderstorms manifest outside. How I hate the mortal realm, where a mere demon anger can manifest natural disasters. The girl, laying down, opens a single eye, then closes it again. The stupid summoner seems confused, but cuts her ropes, and claps his hands to "wake her up" - the poor fool doesn't know he has been fooled.
\- "*Where am I?*" - the girl asks, faking being scared. I saw soap operas with better acting.
\- "Ok, let's drop the acts, shall we? Mortal, you never wanted anything, right? And you, girl... Samantha, I guess? What gives? It's the sixth time, and I'm loosing patience. You..." - but then, I see. Her eyes, there's something... familiar... - "wait a little.... you're not..."
\- "Yes, sorry, ever since I got my wishes delivered I could not take my eyes of you! Please, be mine! I know I sold my soul to you, but I can't wait that much! I know I wished to outlive my enemies, but I never though I would be so madly in love with..."
No.... this cannot be!
We, Demons, are unable to offer wishes that truly satisfy anyone. A prank from God, maybe? Anyway, anytime we grant something, there is a catch. We sometimes get to decide, other times, it is decided for us.
I liked her wish: "I want to outlive my enemies". I decided for her that she'll always have at least one enemy, so she'll live forever, since the death of all life on Earth. I decided that, even if there were only insects in the world, the insects would be her enemy somehow - getting her food, sucking her blood, whatever annoys her. Imagine being an eternal being haunted by mosquitoes? Every night, no mater what you do, a mosquito will find a way to disturb your slumber...
But it seems that this wasn't sufficient. She... fell madly in love. With me. And she won't die for at least 5 billions years...
... and she'll try to get into my pants.... for all these years ...
Maybe I can summon an Angel, somehow? Hopefully they know how to undo wishes...
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(Now, they are really testing my patience...) Demon thought at first, this was filled with anger but, in teenager's eyes it saw the same anger but, mixed into obvious horror. Demon thought for a moment and wicked smile carved on this face soon. Demon finally killed the young lady and dragged her into shadows seemingly of the abyss.
He discussed with the mortals for a while then left giving false promise of desire to be fulfilled. Young lady's body has disappeared from the eyes of the ones who wanted to sacrifice her. Then demon left too but, once the mortals had left the room. It returned and half kneels upon the young woman's body, places the hand on her lower back and stroke upwards up the spine.
Lady gasped for air and woke up as the demon's hand left her body then both stood up. Lady looked around and then saw the demon, taken away by fear like a leaf in a wind. Demon motioned her to calm down, she didn't, so the demon thought.
"Revenge, is a dish..." demon said and waited for her to realize the intent and plan of this.
"Best served cold?" Teenage girl asked continuing the sentence "You just knocked me out and faked my death?" she added another question into the line. Bothered the demon it did not.
"Yes, this is fifth time and I have far more important business in the world under yours, so to say. Now, I have to make an exception as I believe they won't stop trying, a hint I should have noticed earlier but, distracted I was" Demon explains. Young lady no longer submerged into a sea of fear, changed into skepticism in her eyes.
"What about me then?" Young woman asked expecting the worst.
"You should have asked, what about us? Well, the answer is quite... Wicked, young lady" demon said and landed on the floor.
"You are planning on possessing me are you?" young lady asked realizing the intent and quite undoubtedly the first option.
"No. I do not plan to dominate your life. We will together, create your tools for vengeance, they will be the way you will stay connected to me and once we are done, they will cease to be" Demon said. At first horror makes a return but, turned away at the door in lady's mind when she heard the demon's intent. Still skeptical though.
"What about after it?" Young lady asked.
"After it, we will part ways. I intend on returning to my home when my plan has been carried out" Demon declared.
"How do I know this is not an attempt to delude me?" Young woman asked, slowly enticed by the prospect of revenge.
Demon saw this and is internally amused "I would have taken over you on the first time if my plans was something else" Demon said the discussion becoming tiresome. Young lady thought a moment and answered with a nod.
"How do we proceed?" she asks.
"Embrace the thought of revenge, the thrill of getting even. Ignite your anger and bring out your passion" Demon says and aligns this hand to be touched by the young maiden. Young lady hesitates when she raised her hand on the level but, not close of it.
She thought for a moment and looked for what the demon desires from her. Demon senses the lady's desire for revenge first, then next came passion, it would be followed by anger. This excites the demon. Finally, it will begin. Lady places her hand on Demon's own when the anger surfaced to her mind.
Palms still set against each other, lady felt a bridge in her mind, on the other side. She felt the Demon. "Do not be distracted, focus" Demon said, aloud. Lady's mind jinked where the Demon desired it not but, it quickly returned to where it should be. On the task at hand.
Lady's passion now proclaimed itself to the demon as she herself closed her eyes. They departed their palms from one and another, lady moving on instinct than command and Demon knew what is happening. Air between the two started to warp but, not maneuver it did. For a while, there was almost complete stillness.
Air started to compact between the two and take shape. Something from both, the demon and lady started to will the shape a form. It is... The lady herself standing opposite of the real one. The real, opened her eyes and looked at the other self. At first, she had questions but, as they approached each other.
Teenage girl understood it and the other her, understood her. It is her desire for strife, the disguise most cunning, declaration of her passion and the form of her anger to get revenge. The other her disappeared and the real young woman blinked few times. She started to change and shook violently a bit. She took a deep breath and took her other form, she just saw.
The Demon chuckled, what most wonderful piece of vengeance and so, the plan is set on motion. The lady finally calms down and looks around then at herself. "Woe" she said at awe as the Demon approached her. She quickly hugs the Demon for a moment which did catch the Demon off guard but, laughed it off.
"First, you must learn" Demon said and the girl nodded firmly and smiled warmly.
"You are the wicked godfather, one could ask for" she said and Demon interrupted by statement then started to laugh in more honest manner.
"Ah, you have no idea" Demon said when it gathered itself back together from the laughter and moved to begin the lessons.
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jxaouh6
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jxajltj
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[WP] Not only did your best friend find out you're a vampire, but he/she wants you to turn them. You try your best to explain the less obvious downsides to this curse.
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"So why shouldn't I become a vampire?" Kate glared at me in the moonlit meadow, blue eyes ablaze and her fits clenched. "Isn't it the least you could do after lying to me for almost a decade?"
"You'll have to drink blood." I fidgeted with the hem of my long-sleeved hoodie.
"Duh." Kate rolled her eyes. "Isn't that what vampires are famous for?"
I shook my head. "Kind of. More specefically, the life's blood of a member of an intelligent species. That means the person needs to die within half an hour."
"What?!" Kate recoiled, fear and fury mingling in her eyes. "You're a- a murderer?"
I dropped my gaze. This was exactly what I was scared about, exactly why I never told her. "Yes and no. It still works if the death is natural. So a car accident. Suck the blood out of a dead body."
"Oh." The lines around her eyes softened. The slight breeze lifted her black hair in a shining wave. In the moonlight, beneath the stars, she looked beautiful.
"So I could just do what you did, then."
"NO!" The scream burst out before I could stop it. "Are you really ready to watch hundreds of people take their last breath, your lips pressed to their jugular as you suck on their blood? Or do you want to give a corpse a hickey?"
"I could." She said the words slowly, unsure about their veracity. "In exchange for an eternity."
"You don't know what an eternity feels like. Do you even know why I came to Earth in the first place?"
Her eyes widened. She took a step back. "You're not from here?"
"Nope." I drew a circle in the air with my pointer finger, gleaming bone white in the moonlight. A glowing red circle hovered in the air. Instead of grassy meadow, on the other side was the skyline of a city at night, a gleaming metropolis built next to a river. Light gilded the skyscrapers' windows gold and a peaceful crescent moon hung overhead. "This is my home."
"I don't see what's wrong with it. Why are you here?"
"That's the thing. There isn't anything wrong. Yet I'm still here." I snapped my fingers. The portal closed in a shower of sparks. "I still felt like that wasn't enough. Because that's the thing about eternity. Eventually, you get bored."
"So you'll get bored of me?" Her voice was no louder than the whispering of the breeze.
"Yes." She stiffened, and so did I. This would hurt, but she needed to understand the meaning of eternity. "But that only happens after millennia pass. And if I turn you, you'll grow bored of me. You don't think you will, but there will come a day when we know each other so well we don't want to know each other any more."
"Aren't there ways to kill a vampire?"
I sighed, exapseration threading through my voice. "No. Unless we run out of blood, we can't die. Stake wounds just take longer to regenerate from."
Kate opened her mouth to speak.
"And before you say you can just starve yourself, you can't. I've tried. I've always blacked out and woken up with the sweet taste of blood in my mouth and a dead body in my hands. It's like how you humans can't intentionally drown yourself."
She frowned at the gruesome imagery. "How old are you, exactly?"
"Older than the human race."
"And if I turn, would I be able to do the---" She drew a circle in the air, the moonlight making her skin as pale as mine. "Portal thingy?"
"Only trueborn vampires can pass through the portals. You'd be stuck here on earth."
"And anyways, what I said about boredom is doubly true for vampire cities. Things move slower there. When tomorrow is practically a guarantee, there's no need to rush." I looked up, Kate's face seemingly carved from stone. "It's why I prefer living among mortals. They're always scrambling to get things done. There's always something happening."
"But what if I'm not like yo----"
I cut her off. "You are. And that's why we're friends. Trust the immortal on this."
Her shoulders dropped. She closed her eyes. "One last thing. If you could choose to have been born a human, would you?"
I paused. It was a question I had toyed with for thousands of years but never really found the answer to.
"I don't really believe in changing the past. But it's not a curse I would willingly propagate."
​
Thanks for reading, and if you have any critiques, please tell me :D
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The doorbell rang out through Jenny's house as though heralding the arrival of the hosts of angels.
I stand up from the couch. My lungs haven't needed to breathe in 60 years, but I still sigh in relief just from the muscle memory. "I'll get it." Maybe she'll reconsider now.
I open the door for the UberEats driver delivering a hamburger meal with onion rings. I hand the man a tip and return to Jenny with the meal in hand.
"Did you order dinner?" Jenny asks.
"Yeah, my treat." I take a breath that wouldn't normally be necessary, then dig through the bag and hand her the pack of onion rings, breathing out as gently as possible so I can make the airflow last as long as possible.
As she starts chowing down, I ask "I don't suppose you've read *I am Legend*?"
"Nope," she answers, "just seen the movie."
Fair enough. That's not normally a good answer, but Charlton Heston always merits an exception. "Then you've probably never heard of allyl sulphide or allyl isothicyanate?"
"No, what are those?"
"Those are the sulfur compounds that make garlic and onions so toxic to vampires."
She stops chewing and looks at the half-eaten onion ring in her hand, then looks me as dead in the eye as if she was already a vampire and I was still a human. "You asshole."
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j2o761r
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
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The phone on my desk rang. Naturally, I answered.
"Hello?"
"Press the button!" snapped a stern voice.
I glanced down at the red button built into the top of my desk.
"May I ask who is calling?" I inquired. Not that it mattered -- it could be the President of the United States, I still wasnt pressing that button.
My job description was pretty clear, after all.
*1. You will be assigned to an empty room with a desk and a chair. In the middle of the desk, there will be a large red button.
2. No matter what happens, never press the red button.
3.Do not talk to anyone about your job.*
And I was well paid to do my job -- to do, essentially, nothing. Electronic devices weren't allowed past security, but anything else I wanted to bring in to pass the time while I "worked" was fine; books, magazines, model kits, whatever I liked.
I'd been there just over seven years, and they'd never tested me on it before. I'd never given them reason to doubt me. But today was the day, I supposed.
"There's no time! I'm with the Agency! You have to press the button!"
The Agency? I'd always wondered if this was some kind of secret CIA experiment. Weird, that they'd just come right out and say it after all this time, though. Of course, that didn't matter, either. If they had wanted me to press the button, they should have told me there was some circumstance under which I might have to. Nowhere in rule two did the word "unless" appear.
"Now!" the voice shouted, in mixed anger and desperation.
It occurred to me that if I talked to whomever was testing me long enough, they might trick me into breaking rule three, somehow. So I simply hung up.
A few minutes later, two men in suits entered the room. One of them was my boss. Without a word, he handed me a piece of paper.
It was a termination notice. I was appalled at first...until I noticed the line about severance. And the one about continuing pension and health care benefits. The termination was more like a promotion; I'd get to go from doing essentially nothing, to literally doing nothing at all, and I'd still get paid. It was hard to complain about.
But still, since I was fired anyway, I had to know.
"What does it do?" I asked.
"I can't give you all the details, but...it opens a door." my boss said.
"So...I was just making sure a door didn't open?'
"More like..." he said, pausing to think. "You were actively *not* opening it. That's all I can say."
I nodded. I had no idea what that meant, but I guess I never really expected a straight answer.
I picked up my coat and stood up from my chair. The guy with my boss took my place by the button.
"One thing I don't get." I said, as he began escorting me out. "Why let me go now? I never talked about my job -- and I for damn sure never pressed that button. "
"No." my boss agreed. "But your ability to continue doing your job has been compromised -- it happens sometimes, nothing to be ashamed of. In any case, your problem wasn't rule two, or rule three. *Rule one,* Mr. Stanley."
I furrowed my brow. "But that's just a description of the room, isn't it?"
He nodded, as we approached security.
"You will be assigned to an empty room with a desk and a chair. In the middle of the desk, there will be a large red button," he quoted.
"I don't get it," I admitted.
"An empty room, Mr. Stanley, but for the objects listed."
I was still confused, as we reached security, and I handed over my employee badge to the guard. My former boss walked me past the checkpoint to the exit door.
"I...still don't understand." I admitted, as my ex- employer shook my hand.
"A desk, a chair, and a button."
I blinked.
When he spoke again, his words sent a chill down my spine. "The room you worked in does not now, nor has it ever, contained a telephone."
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“I’m sorry, but I’m not allowed to.”
“The fate of the world is at stake!” The voice sounds honest enough, but then I’m a terrible judge of character. Maybe I can get some information out of this guy.
“Then give me your badge number.”
“Nine eight five three six eight eleven decka one!” came the anxious response.
“Security clearance?”
“Alpha alpha beta!”
“The operations unique forty-two and a half digit alphanumeric identification code?”
“D R G Z 2 H 5— wait… forty-two and a half?” The voice said. “JUST PUSH THE [redacted] BUTTON!”
“Okay…”
“HURRY UP IN— Aah! you pushed it!”
***
I may come back in add some more later. For now check out some of my [other stories](https://www.reddit.com/user/Matthew-IP-7/comments/ww45tq/a_list_of_all_the_stories_ive_written_that_can_be/).
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jbq3q9o
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jbq2ndd
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[WP] You are a demon and you have been summoned by a mortal. He announced that he has brought you a sacrifice. Except it's the same teenaged girl that people have tried to sacrifice to you 5 times already
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Sighing internally, the demon quickly scanned her surroundings. The all too familiar summoning circle, whose intricate pattern had somehow made its way into the human's hands stood beneath her, for the seventh time that century. The man who summoned her looked just as erratic as all those who resort to sacrificing in order to summon higher demons.
Blood was dripping from the silver knife in the hands of the summoner. The teenager, bound to the makeshift altar, was rapidly losing that precious life energy that normally kept humans alive.
"What say you, Great Astaroth? Will you accept my offer? Enter a pact with me and you-" the man's pleas were cut short as his head departed from its position on his neck and got acquainted with his feet. The teenager loomed over his still standing corpse for a moment, intently observing the flesh of his neck before a stream of blood came gushing through. At that moment she pushed the body aside, hoping not to get even bloodier than she was already.
Gracefully stepping away from the mess she had made, the teen smiled. "Long time no see, Asty! Didn't cha miss me?" she said, approaching the hulking demon.
"We've talked about this Elizabeth, you can't just go bewitching these fools into summoning me just because you're bored of your fellow humans..." the demon broke the bounds of the circle and walked towards the nearest fallen marble pillar, then sat down, preparing for another endless conversation with the girl that always made her way back to her.
"It would be far easier if I was allowed to summon you by myself... If only you hadn't forbidden that, I wouldn't be forced to get myself a middleman" The teen remarked as she cheerfully followed Astaroth, leaning against her while sitting on the cold marble.
The demon's efforts of distancing herself from the girl bore no success. "The reason you can't directly summon me isn't to force you to find some other way of doing it, it's to stop you from getting more attached to a demon than you already have. Clearly, it's not the best solution..." she observed the girl for a while, then spoke again "Has immortality finally gotten to you? I figure if getting stabbed by demon summoners is a pastime of yours, it might be time to end it. If you want I can-"
"Immortality doesn't bother me so long as I can annoy you every few decades. Why are you so intent on keeping me away? You could always have told me you hate me, or that you can't suffer my presence, and I would probably have left you alone. But noo, you just made it a challenge for me to get to you, as though I didn't enjoy finding workarounds." she said, rolling her eyes.
The demon flexes her wings in a way Liz finds to imply annoyance "You know I couldn't hate you. The circumstances in which I made you immortal, however, make me doubt that this relationship you think we have is anything but some sort of dependency." she sighs melancholically "You're not in that village anymore. You don't need a demon to save you anymore. The only reason I'd find it reasonable for you to call on me would be to end your immortality. I wouldn't want to force you to live longer than you desire"
The look on the immortal's face was quite startled for a moment, then it relaxed into an amused expression. "So that's it? That's what this was all about? Since when are demons so concerned with the emotional health and well-being of their contractors...?"
Elizabeth stood up and faced the demon. "Back then I truly was a soul as old as this body, I was terrified of everything and maybe I did lean too much on your help. The time we spent together then is something I still treasure, but it's nothing more than the distant past. Right now I don't need you to do anything for me. You are simply the only friend I have that shares my memories from hundreds of years ago. I think it's fair not to want to lose that. "
After a short staring match, the demon relented "Since it is clear that I can't keep you away, I suppose I shall allow you to summon me directly. No need to get more people killed out of sheer stubbornness..." Astaroth had no opportunity to start a lecture as Elizabeth jumped in for a hug, unbothered by the demon's metallic skin.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Had an urge for a happy ending today, as it happens. Not sure what to think about this one. I think I enjoy writing dialogue but I have no clue whether it's any good. So if you did read this painfully long creation of mine I'd appreciate hearing if you had any feedback.
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As I materialize in the summoning circle, I see a young man standing before me, holding a struggling teenage girl by the arm. He greets me with a smug expression and announces that he has brought me a sacrifice.
I look at the girl and then at the summoner, unimpressed. "Oh great, another one. You know, I'm starting to feel like I'm the only demon in hell who doesn't have a teenage girl on their sacrifice list."
The summoner looks taken aback. "But isn't that what you demons like? Sacrifices?"
I roll my eyes. "No, we don't like sacrifices. It's a common misconception. We much prefer pizza and beer, but you mortals never seem to get that right."
The girl looks up at me, confusion etched on her face. "Pizza and beer?"
I smirk. "Yes, it's much more satisfying than a scared teenager, trust me."
The summoner looks bewildered. "So, you don't want the sacrifice?"
I shake my head. "Nope, sorry to disappoint you. This girl has been offered to me five times already, and I'm getting pretty bored of her. Can't you find someone new to offer up?"
The girl looks relieved, and I can't help but feel a bit of sympathy for her. "Listen, kid," I say to her, "don't worry about it. You're off the hook. But you might want to find some new friends if they keep trying to sacrifice you."
As I disappear back to the underworld, I can't help but chuckle to myself. Mortals are so silly sometimes. Sacrificing innocent teenagers to demons? It's like they never learned from all those horror movies they love to watch.
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j5vm6it
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j5uutml
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[WP] You’re the mustache twirling bad guy who must marry the innocent girl for your scheme to succeed. After your wedding she presents you with her plan to expand your schemes. She’s much more devious and evil than you.
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The wedding bells of the church were still ringing when the dark wooden gate of the mansion opened. Damyan entered the place and, with a snap, the gate closed at his back. He pushed the young girl that was walking by his hand towards a chair and walked to the chimney. The bright red flames illuminated his face as he started to chuckle evilly. His plans were in motion.
At his back, the girl sat on the chair. She was young, very young. The fact that was only fourteen did not spare her from marriage once her father had given her away to Lord Damyan Amerthy. She stood up, pulled the humongous white skirt until she was able to sit comfortably, and looked around. Damyan placed a hand on the frame of the chimney, contemplating his future actions, when she spoke. “So… did you marry me as part of a bigger scheme, or are you just some sort of pervert?”
“What?” he asked, visibly confused.
“Yeah, you know… I mean, I’m young but not that naive”, she retorted. “Many older men like you think on marrying a young noble girl like me out of lust, but just to be clear… it’s not like I’m going to let you. Understood?”.
“How dare you, Angelica!” he yelled, offense echoing in each word. “I would never do such a thing!”
“So… classic evil plot. I’m sorry if I offended you, I had to ask, maybe now I can remove this thing”. She tapped with her knuckles on her hip, making a metallic sound. “Oh”, murmured Damyan, understanding what she was hiding under the wedding dress. “So, tell me, what was the point of blackmailing my father to give my hand in marriage then? You have quite a reputation: scams, use of mercenaries, assassinations, torture…”
“It’s… too complex for a young lady like yourself. Now begone and stop bothering me!”
He turned back to stare the fire, his mood somehow killed by Angelica. To Lord Damyan Amerthy’s surprise, her new wed wife started laughing softly, rapidly increasing to a loud laughter. “What are you laughing at!?”, he requested, stepping towards her menacingly.
“That’s brilliant! I mean, I have been involved in devilish plots since I was four! Blackmailed? Thrice. Kidnapped? Twice. Sold as a slave? Once. Assassination attempts? Four. My hand given into marriage without my consent? Five times. You should know that I allowed this wedding to happen”. She stood up, ignoring Damyan’s threat, and walked towards a great window. She looked to the city outside while she continued. “If I have to guess, I’d say your plan is to dethrone my father, he’s the Count of Mornalia, after all. But if he was, for instance, assassinated, his position would be inherited by my brother. So I guess you have planned for that, right?”
Damyan, recovering his composure, walked slowly towards her. He twisted his mustache, standing right next to Angelica and watching the city as she did. Below them, the party of their wedding was still raging. “Yes. I have planned for that. You almost sound like you want them dead”.
“My father? Yeah, he’s always used me. ‘It’s your duty, to serve this country’, it’s your fault you got kidnapped again’, he’s a bastard. Not my brother, though, I’d be happy enough if he was sent far away never to come back”.
“That can be arranged…”
“Use my aunt” she interrupted. “Aunt Ophelia always wanted my father’s throne. You just need to leave some evidence pointing to her. Use this”, she said as she removed a hair locker from her head, her long blonde hair falling around her round and beautiful face. “I stole it from her years ago, it was a gift from my grandmother to aunt Ophelia. Anyone knowing the family will recognize it as hers”.
Damyan took the hair locker, impressed with the young girl’s determination. But she continued. “By the way, my father loves to go out hunting each Sunday. It’s the perfect moment”.
“Well, I’ll be damned” retorted Damyan. “I was not informed you were such a… proactive young lady”.
She laughed softly. “Oh, please. Who would suspect of the youngest, cute, blonde little daughter of count Morgan?” she answered, looking at her with very trained puppy eyes. “Nobility is a dangerous world to grow into. You either adapt, perish or live the rest of your life as some noble’s puppy wife. To hell with that”.
They stood like this, watching the sun set without saying a word for several minutes. “So, my dear wife, what is it you desire in life? Why did you allow this wedding to happen?”
“I want to be feared”.
She walked away to the chimney. Her semblance was serious and, for the first time, Damyan saw in her look a pained expression. Blond curls falling in front of her face that he did not try to remove, the experience of a life no child should ever have reflected on her green eyes.
“I want to be feared”, she repeated. “But not because I’m your wife: I want the world to know my name, I want my enemies, everyone who ever wronged me whisper my name afraid that I may hear them. I don’t want anyone to try to manipulate or use me again. So, when you asked my hand in marriage, I knew this was my chance”. She looked at him and, despite her short stature, despite being a cute, blond and thin girl, something in the way she looked at him made him know she was dead serious. “Do not be fooled, Damyan: if you try to use or abuse me in any way, I will get you killed. But if you help me, I will give you the means to get my father’s throne and, eventually, the whole kingdom”.
Damyan stared a her for some moments and, at that point, he understood. She had not told him everything that had happened to her. Not even close. “Anyone else who wronged you?”. Angelica looked again towards the flames and murmured ‘My uncle. My cousins’. He walked towards her and extended his hand. “We have a deal. But be warned: shall you betray me, I will make you wish for death before I even started exerting my vengeance on you”.
“Quite a typical threat, don’t you think?” she said as she shook Lord Damyan’s hand.
“I feel like this could be the beginning of a long, lasting friendship”.
“Who knows. Maybe, in due time, I may even think of you as my husband. Now, where is my room? I really hate this dress”.
“Top of the stairs, second floor, third door to the left”. Angelica smiled and, carrying the dresses’ skirt on her thin hands, she disappeared through a door. Once he was alone, Damyan blew a long breath and curled his mustache. “Hell… I may be in love!”
​
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*Hope you enjoyed it!*
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Connor thought he had outdone them all. His latest caper did not feel as transactional as all of his other crimes. This instance involved the life of another person. Rather than simply stealing someone else's money or property, he had now impacted the future of someone's life.
But it was Patricia Lewand. She wasn't a person in Connor's eyes. Patricia had been part of a family fortune that was a heavy hitter in the railroad empire in the late 1800s of the United States.
Unlike Connor's upbringing, Patricia had no idea what struggle was like. People who grew up with a gold spoon in hand were not human in Connor's eyes. They had no brain and they couldn't function outside of their own small pack of wealthy elites.
So there was no issue of morality when it came to swindling her out of some fortune by marrying her. The old witch he met in New York City indeed sold him a love potion that worked. But their wedding was over, and the potion was starting to wear off.
Connor and Patricia cuddled each other on the couch in their living room in the mansion that her parents bought for the two of them. Patricia lay next to Connor, but she got up suddenly and said, "Something's not right..."
Getting up from the couch, she wandered to a chair in the corner and gazed out the window. She was practically on the other side of the room.
Connor had a devilish grin. "Is everything all right, darling?" It was around the time and day that the witch had predicted the love potion would wear off.
"Yes. Everything is fine... I'm just starting to have some thoughts."
"Oh? And what about?" Connor was excited because he knew she was thinking about divorce, and that would lead to him getting his fortune through a settlement since she would want to end things with him, and they didn't sign any sort of prenuptial agreement.
Patricia pulled out a long filter and put a cigarette at the end of it and struck a match. She drew in an inhale and blew out a cloud of smoke. "I'm just confused that you didn't try and pursue my sister. She's a little older than I am, and it's well known that she's not going to be alive for much longer due to her condition... So by marrying me for my fortune, you might not get away with it. But you could have married her and waited for her to pass, and then you would have forever been part of this family and you forever would have received monies and you probably could have married me too."
Connor was stunned. He tried to think of something to say but his lips fumbled.
"You think you're so smart but I can see you right through you."
"I'm sorry," Connor said, and he actually meant it. In the process of making her take the love potion, he also developed some feelings for her. In his head, the plan was to get a divorce, but in his heart, he actually wanted to see if maybe they could work.
"You have some considerable talent, I'll give you that. But I still think you do more and do better." Patricia shrugged. "I have an idea for a score myself... Would you be interested to hear it?"
"Yes, absolutely. What are you thinking?"
Patricia's head tilted to the side. She was still gazing out the window, and didn't look at Connor. "Hm. We'll have to stay married for a little while longer. Are you still interested?"
"Yes, yes, yes, please tell me."
Patricia had a devilish grin much like Connor's and she took one big puff from her cigarette. Connor leaned forward, waiting to hear the details of the next potential caper.
r/randallcooper
|
j78kwp2
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j78071r
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[WP] The most fearsome super villain in history was defeated and for judgement received two options: death sentence or memory wipe. They chose the latter. When the super heroes perform a coup and take control over the world, there is only one person powerful enough to aid you...
|
"I now pronounce you, husband and husband. Whichever of you is the bride, kiss the husband". A gentle laugh danced from the crowd to the high walls of the church, before it was destroyed by the screams, shouts and applause of a family, friends, and those who occupied a space of honor that, despite barely knowing the betrothed, they had been deemed fit to watch this monumental step in their lives.
The wedding was over quickly, and the guests filed out. The third ceremony performed that day. The priest, who spoke the words over each couple, sat in a hastily prepared office, while he worked through the banal realities of owning a 500 year old building. Letters detailing cracked walls, listed architecture, crumbling foundations and, of course, the utter scorn of his peers that he would perform same-sex ceremonies.
The footsteps echoed through his church, and he welcomed the distraction, leaving behind the scrawled piles of architecture, construction and religious fundamentalism. He met a young women, who he found stood at the alter, admiring the cross, complete with the suffering, emaciated body of the Lord himself.
"It's 427 years old, you know", he said. He walked beside her, and gestured to the inscription, half of which had been stolen by time. "In Christ, we find forgiveness", he translated the worn Latin. She seemed interested, looking up at him with dark eyes and a strong jaw. She did not cover her shoulders before entering the church, a transgression punishable by death when this cross was first crafted, but now, the Church had learned to be more lenient. He noticed the weapon at her hip, and the thin lines around her shoulders - the evidence of intense exercise over many years. How did he see those things? It felt as if, in those moments, he saw the world through the eyes of another.
"We do not know the rest of the inscription, it was charred in a fire 233 years ago. But those who wrote about this place, spoke of the quote, and said it brought them peace. I have spent the past 8 years searching, and found nothing. I suppose I must settle for forgiveness". She smiled.
"And what must you be forgiven for, Father?". The priest knew that behind her eyes was something cold, calculating. He had seen the look before, perhaps on the faces of the saints carved into the walls of the Church. Something in his mind spoke to him, and told him that she had the capacity for terrible violence. But all that stood in front of him was a woman who enjoyed exercise. Sweat grew at his brow, and something clawed inside his chest, writhing and screaming, threatening and howling.
"I...". He knew his sins were uncountable. That his every waking moment would be poisoned by shadows of memories, cast across his mind like a silhouette play that rendered only a fraction of the story. And he knew, looking at her, that this was what he could sense. That the shadows, stretched and haunted as they were, were once cast by her. He stepped back, and she turned to face him, because he realized that she too, had been analyzing him.
"Who are you?". The words were hoarse. The dry, dusty walls of the Church seemed stifling, sucking every drop of moisture from the air, from his skin, from every crevice of his mind, until all that was left inside was an emptiness, a desert, begging for life, begging for a chance to let something grow. Her smile was gone now, replaced by the empty expression of a woman who was entirely focused on her goal.
"I can't go back", he whispered. He didn't know from where the words came. Back to what? To where? Her eyes widened. "You remember?". Her hand rested at her hip now. The lines in her shoulders deepened and flexed, and the Priest realized he could smell the adrenaline in her blood. "You remember don't you? You know? It didn't work!".
In the darkness that followed, The Priest imagined himself in front of the gates, looking up at a long staircase that projected out into the heavens. It was far, but each breath filled his body with a youth he had not known for a lifetime, and he knew that all he had to do, was climb, but a voice echoed across the empty clouds. In fact, two voices.
*"You're here because they have finally betrayed you?".*
*"The memory wipe didn't work, did it?"*
*"No, your scientists are as clumsy as your operatives. It didn't work"*
*"So you spend your days, hidden here. Why? Why a Priest?"*
A laugh danced along the plains and the Priest knew that he could not climb the stairs, not before he knew the conversation, but the longer he stayed, the weaker his legs became. Every syllable, every sound, shook the life out of his joints.
*"He's the Priest. I spend my days in peace. I made him."*
*"We knew about your powers, but this? You MADE him?"*
*"Agent. I like my life here. But you have found me, and that means they will too. So perhaps I shall begin again. But for that, dear agent, you too, will have to forget."*
The Priest fell to his knees, his strength finally failing. He looked at the first of the steps, and dragged himself forward, but found that his hands passed through the clouds. Before long, he was falling, aimlessly, eternally, through darkness and rain and smoke, and he knew that his desire to know, his lust for knowledge, had damned him to whatever fate lingered at the bottom of his decent.
**Three years later, in Southern Italy**
*"Father, I must insist. The Church will not allow you to marry these two women. It is wrong".* The young nun, who had been born into the habit, pleaded with the father. He stood two feet taller than her, and she clung to the side of his robe, making no effort to slow the tears dripping onto the floor of the half rotten Church.
The town around the Church had been burned out in the war. A war that still raged in the African continent, the last of the holdouts. The Church was the only thing that remained standing, and it now housed hundreds of homeless villagers.
He smiled, and placed his hand on hers, and knew that if there was ever a time, a chance, to make amends for the hidden guilt that sat heavily on his conscience, a chance to remedy the dark dreams that haunted his midnight hours, of bloodied women, dragged through churches, and buried in unmarked graves, this was the time and the place. This was the time and the place.
|
Chromiun, my former metal-plated friend began terrorizing Europe, threatening to destroy buildings for huge paydays. At first people thought he was kidding, but after he ripped apart the London Eye, everyone took his threat on Big Ben seriously
Elsa blasted poisonous venom through the Yellowstone National Park until some billionaire ponied up the money to get her to stop.
And finally, my old pal Darwin shape-shifted into a werewolf and terrorized the streets of New York City until the mayor paid him off to leave.
They were doing everything that went against the doctrine that our grandma instilled in us. I thought they were better than that, but Sylvan had corrupted them.
It's crazy to imagine that our archnemesis Sylvan wouldn't be the greatest threat to humanity. Sylvan had already destroyed a town with his ability to sink into the ground as a shadow. It doesn't seem dangerous at first, but he could bring objects with him. One of the things he did was place bombs underneath a town and detonated them all at once to cause the place to collapse like a demolished building.
Sylvan was dangerous, and my former superhero friends had banded together and we stopped him entirely. I thought it was our finest hour when we spared his life and wiped his memory. But that last speech he gave before we defeated him really shifted the mindset of my friends. I was lucky I guess that I didn't hear the speech, a bomb had exploded earlier and my hearing went out. Fortunately I can still hear out of my left ear, but my right one permanently has a loud ringing at all times.
It sucks.
To this day I think Sylvan did something to somehow convince them to change who they were as a person. 2 years ago they would never have performed those atrocities, but everything changed after that battle.
I tried going to Yellowstone to stop Elsa as she was spraying her muck from her wrists all over the beautiful trees and nature reserve. Poor animals tried to flee her wrath, but she didn't care. Their habitats were burnt down and covered in poisonous sludge. My telekinesis put up a fight, as I launched rocks and tree branches at her, but she kept melting everything away with her powerful blasts.
Ultimately, I was sent running. It was tough to admit, but I couldn't stop her, and I was thankful she didn't chase me down. Somewhere in her heart she still cared enough not to kill me.
It all felt hopeless.
But then, an idea across my mind.
It didn't feel right, but it was the only hope.
I knew the only way I could get help in stopping my friends from performing such heinous acts was to find Sylvan and unlock his power again and get him to join me. With his memory wipe, Sylvan had no idea he could turn into a shadow and fall into the ground.
His power came to him from some book of evil magic, so it never left him. But his knowledge and interest in the book entirely was gone.
Sylvan was brilliant and he lived a life on a farm in Indiana. Away from everyone and everything, and no one really knew him anymore.
It was my duty to recruit him, and protect the Earth from my former brothers and sister. My plan could backfire easily, but there was no other way.
I was going to visit Sylvan at his farm.
I had to talk to him.
[Part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/10tqpcx/wp_the_most_fearsome_super_villain_in_history_was/)
r/randallcooper
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j447szr
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j43tyew
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[WP] In this world healers, while respected, are often looked down upon due to their limited offensive capabilities. One day your party is completely wiped out, and the world finds out just how dangerous knowledge of human anatomy can be.
|
"Step aside, or you'll be next."
"Cast *Increase Blood Volume*."
Caduceus was done playing. He raised his staff as a warning. "If you get in my way again, I will kill you."
"With what? Your stick?" the bandit asked, squinting.
"You feel that headache? That's your [blood pressure rising rapidly](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hypertensive_crisis). Dizziness comes next, then vision blurring."
There was a low groan from Caduceus's ally, Helios. It was ragged, the sound of a cleric saying his last prayers to his God. Good, that he had regained consciousness, but there wasn't much time before he would succumb to his injuries too.
The bandit clutched his chest in shock. "What did you d-"
"Cast *Bloodletting*."
The effect was instant. Caduceus's diagnostic cantrips flared to life, highlighting the bandit's heart as his [aorta ruptured](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aortic_dissection). The bond between him and his God wavered, reminding him of his duty.
Do no harm.
Well, fuck that duty.
The bandit yelled in pain, bent over, and Caduceus pushed him over with his staff. Death within 120 seconds, announced his cantrip.
"Who's next."
A blast of energy landed menacingly between Caduceus and Helios, but this was close enough for the healer to work. Severe breathing difficulties, low blood oxygen levels, along with multiple broken ribs. He cast a more advanced diagnostic spell on the cleric. Significant volume of air and blood in the chest cavity. Definitely a [tension pneumothorax](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pneumothorax#Tension_pneumothorax). Death within 120 seconds if untreated, and it wouldn't be a painless death.
A more acute approach was necessary against their ranged attackers then. Once the first bandit passes away, Caduceus's God would be sure to withdraw His grace. The blaster was charging up his next shot, so that would be the primary target. Caduceus withdrew a scalpel from within his robe. He wasn't sure if the spell had the necessary range, but there's no time like the present to find out. He closed his eyes, focusing on the diagnostic cantrips. From afar, he could sense the blaster's heavy breathing.
"Cast *Incision*."
As Caduceus sliced the air in front of him, the blade reached out, passing through the blaster's neck, and into [his trachea](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cricothyrotomy). With another swipe, the healer tore the blaster's neck open. The bandits around him recoiled in shock as blood spurted out of his neck. But Caduceus didn't need to see them to harm them. Their respiratory systems lit up like bonfires in the night sky. Tachypneic breathing, possible hyperventilation. Diagnosis: mortal terror, and the good healer shall be dispensing emergency surgical interventions from afar.
-------
As the last neck exploded into a shower of blood, everything faded to black. He opened his eyes in shock, cursing his God's name. Why now? There's still a life to be saved! He rushed to Helios's side. Although his God had withdrawn his magical gifts, Caduceus still had a lifetime of medical knowledge within him. He tore Helios's robe open with a pair of shears. His chest was heaving ineffectually, and there was a distinct imbalance as he tried to breathe.
The cantrips had highlighted the pneumothorax in an alarming shade, and he knew from experience that Helios was on the verge of death. From a pocket inside his coat, Caduceus withdrew a vial of alcohol and a [disturbingly large needle in a tube](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Catheter).
"Relax, Helios. Your God clearly hasn't abandoned you. Focus on my voice."
He washed his hands, the needle, and the side of Helios's chest with the alcohol, then took a swig for good measure.
"The left lung has collapsed. Each inhalation brings more air into the chest, which cannot escape without help. Keep breathing though."
Caduceus counted ribs. "Treatment requires a chest tube to be inserted. The Temple traditionally recommends inserting it between the second and third rib, but experience suggests [performing it at the fifth rib](https://litfl.com/tension-pneumothorax-time-to-change-the-old-mantra/), where the chest wall is thinner. A needle is inserted to allow the excess air to escape."
Helios's eyes snapped open as Caduceus pushed the needle in, and air hissed out of the tube. The cleric's breathing eased, and he grimaced as the healer eased the tube against his chest wall.
"Air now escapes through [a one-way valve](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flutter_valve)." Caduceus continued, as he taped the end of the tube against his chest. "You feeling better?"
Helios swore loudly. Good, his state of consciousness wasn't impaired. It would be bad if he said something stupid like, "Maybe I should break my sacred Oath too".
"Once you're ready, I'm going to need you to get up and to start casting. You're still down a lung and I don't need my God's aid to know that you're still struggling to breath."
"But?"
"But I'm going to need your help getting us back to the nearest Temple. You'll need proper medical attention to reinflate your lung and to fix your ribs."
Helios stood up shakily, holding his polearm for dear life. [Caduceus slinged the cleric's left arm over his shoulder, and gripped his wrist and clothing firmly](https://www.google.com/search?q=human+crutch).
"You ready?"
He opened his palm. *Give me a moment.*
"Alright, take your time. We've got all the time in the world."
|
Doctor Julian Shephard watched as one of the men who ambushed his groups wagon fought for air. His blood spilled onto the bright green grass under him. Julian's traveling companions were tied up, but they hadn't bothered to do the same to him due to the cross patch he wore indicating he was a doctor.
The dead mans voice was hoarse and weak, "help me." He looked at his comrades. One man was trying to stop the bleeding, but to no avail. Two others were crouched near and looking intently, but the other four
off to the side weren't interested in the soon-to-be dead man.
Julian wondered why he should help this man. It was likely the bandits would throw them all into the river anyways. He thought for a moment of his oaths: every life is precious, do no harm.
"He has a severed brachial artery. A tourniquet will need to be carefully applied," Julian said. All seven bandits looked at him. "Let me get my bag and I will do it." He hurried to the cart near the road and retrieved his doctors bag.
He put the tourniquet around the mans arm, above the laceration. As he was cinching the tourniquet he had to remind himself that this was just another man. Maybe a husband, father, brother, or son. Julian didn't know his story.
"He will still need a doctor, but this buys you a couple of hours." Julian said.
One of the four bandits who didn't seem interested in the dying man said, "Alright boys, throw these poor souls into the river and lets move on."
"Hold on a second, I'm not throwing that doctor into the river," another said and a fight broke out with three on one side, four on another. Swords clashed and knives were slashed wildly. In the end, the group defending the doctor were left alive, the other four dead.
"Thank you," the injured man managed to whisper. The remaining bandits looked at their swords and their former comrades dead on the ground.
"So pointless. You have the power over life and death, yet we are but brutes who only kill. For what? All we do is bring death into this world. Pointless." The seven bandits dropped their swords and started burying their former comrades. When they finished and left, the swords remained there in the grassy ditch.
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m8v5yad
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m8v2pif
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[WP] As a genie you take great pride in deliberately misinterpreting every wish to make it as horrible as possible, but the wish you received today is the first wish that you not only have no idea how to make any worse, but you feel that even just fulfilling it as stated would be going too far.
|
The alarm went off. Finally, a chance to get out of this lamp again, and most importantly, STRETCH. I did just that, rejoicing and reveling in the momentary freedom, not even noticing my summoner at first. It was a small bedroom, sparsely furnished, with small, mostly broken furniture. Gathering my wits, it was time to go to work. “WHO SUMMONS THE GENIE OF THE LAMP?” I bellowed, adding a bit of thunder just to make the fool jump and probably drop the lamp again. That always amused me.
There was a clatter as the lamp hit the ground and I laughed..then looked down towards the one who had summoned me. And looked further down. It was no adult, but a child, perhaps six or seven, in smelly clothing that needed a wash-and that’s saying something considering when I was first exiled to this infernal torment as a Genie.
Immediately I lowered my voice. The few innocents who summoned us…well they usually didn’t get exactly what they asked for…but there was no need to punish them for their hubris and greed, as they did not know better. Unless it was an adult that was using them to avoid any consequences, and even then, we managed to twist things to shield the child. I shrank my avatar to a less threatening form “As I said, I’m the Genie. What’s your wish?”
“I wish I’d never been born.” the kid said , snot running from her nose.
"Never born…wait..what?” This was both surprising and upsetting. “Why would you say that?”
“Because momma says I ruined her life, I’m the reason daddy drinks all the time, and why he hits us….”
We’re not omniscient. Not when locked in the lamp for Gods know how long between summons. But once we’re out…we are as close as you can get when it comes to our summoners. Helps in making sure they get what they deserve. Despite my attempt to be less threatening, I involuntarily shifted from bright blue to glowing red as I surveyed her life. She was right..but wrong. Her parent’s lives were not ruined because of her birth..but because of their choices and vices.
I knew what I wanted to do. I shifted back to the bright blue cartoony avatar and smiled reassuringly. “Would you rather be somewhere where you are loved?” I asked.
She sniffled again and nodded, as a shout came from downstairs “ who are you talking to up there? I’m tryin to cook down here! I told you to get your ass in bed! Do I need to bring my belt this time?” the slurred voice of her, sperm donor I think the term was echoed from up the stairs.
Her eyes got big and stared at the door, the door knob long ago kicked off. Putting a finger under her chin I turned her face back to me. “Well?” I asked
She sniffed again and nodded. I reached out and gently gathered her soul in my hand, her body dropping to the floor with a soft thump. Then before leaving, it only took a few seconds to make sure the rest of the house was empty of innocents, before detonating the meth lab in the kitchen on my way out of the house. The lamp would be ok, it always would be. Someone would find it. In the meantime, I had another stop to make, to finish her wish.
At a nearby hospital
Tyrell looked up as the Dr walked out of the delivery room, expecting the worst. When they came in , there was lots of blood, the baby was weeks early, and there was no pulse according to the ER nurse before Samanta was rushed into surgery. The stunned look on the obstetrician’s face didn’t help. “Are they…”
“They’re both fine. Both mom and your daughter.” The Doc replied…”I don’t know how, everything said we were on the verge of losing them both..but somehow…”
Both men broke down in sobs of relief. Unseen, the Genie smiled to himself. Wish fulfilled. Nice to have a good one for a change.
|
Wisher : "I wish, for everyone to experience the pain of testicular torsion every other moment of the day.
Not all the time mind you, just long enough for the the pain to be almost debilitating, then it stops for a random duration of reprieve be it a few minutes or a few hours, only for it to happen again, constantly, forever.
Why the short reprieve? Because if pain is your default state, then the brain ignores it after a while. It needs to be a constant cycle of pain and peace.
Everyday, you wake up to pain, to sleep in pain if you ever get any. Your waking moments haunted by pain so visceral you wish you were dead, and when the pain is gone, you are haunted by the next interval of pain. Never to know when it will happen."
Genie : "God damn, you sicko."
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jdsg3u0
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jdrjynh
|
[WP] Destroying 90% human population on earth, the aliens leave, assuming that society would crumble, and remaining 10% will just all fight for resources and eventually die out. They returned a thousand years later, expecting a cleansed planet, but were met with a nuclear strike from a satellite.
|
**2034-02-18**
The lights didn’t work anymore. That was the first sign something was wrong. We didn’t usually use grid power, but the weather had been abysmal these last few weeks and so we had reconnected to recharge the batteries. We’d only had to do that a couple of times since we’d moved out here, and while each time was some dire circumstance, the grid was always waiting for us. The greater mass of humanity ready to catch our fall and charge us for the privilege. Today there was no slowing of our descent as the night wore on and the house grew colder than ever before.
**2283-08-30**
“Now class, quiet down.” said Jessica to her unruly charges as the five and six year olds shouted and laughed amongst each other.
“Does anyone remember what today is?” asked Jessica.
“Today is the anniversary of the Undoing Teacher Jessica.” shouted Abigail from the third row.
“Quite right Abigail, but which, *exact* anniversary is it? How many years ago today did the demons descend upon our sacred soil?” clarified Jessica.
“It’s the two-hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of the Undoing Teacher Jessica.” responded Abigail.
“Exactly! And how far have we come in those many years class?” asked Jessica.
“My pappy says we’ve done the lords work! When he was my age he could barely find anything to eat, and now we all have bread for lunch.” said Isiah to the class.
“While you’re pappy isn’t wrong Isiah, there’s far more than just our food. We’ve brought back electricity and heavy industry. You will all live to the see the day we return to the stars.” said Jessica.
A small hand in the back of the class went up, waving too and fro.
“Yes Amalie?” said Jessica
“What are ‘stars’ Teacher Jessica?” said the smallest of the class in her high soprano.
Jessica wistfully answered; “You know how when you’re tending the fields with your family there is a soft glow emanating from the sky? That glow is produced by our ‘sun’, a large ‘star’ around which our entire world spins. Though I’ve never seen it myself, it is said that beyond the clouds, there isn’t a simple glow, instead it is an intense and blinding light. Brighter than any flame and larger than even the ground upon which we stand. The great expanse beyond our skies is littered with these massive ‘stars’, and though they’re incredibly far away, our forefathers could look up and see them every night.”
“Why can’t we see the stars now Teacher Jessica?” asked Bobby with a look of dismay on his face.
Her wistfulness replaced with a cold fury Jessica responded “They took them from us Bobby. In The Undoing they filled our skies with clouds.”
**2533-12-25**
“There isn’t enough Jim.”
“What do you mean there isn’t enough Allister?”
“There isn’t enough. To clear the skies we’ll need thousands, millions, of these drones!”
“So?”
“We can’t afford them.” said Allister.
“Since when has ‘afford’ ever been part of this program? We set out to clear the skies, we knew it was going to be a monstrous project, and here we. Why does it suddenly matter now?” said Jim.
Allister rolled his eyes; “No one thought you’d actually figure out how to do it…”
**2783-01-28**
“They aren’t coming back!” bellowed Chancellor Elect Terria into his microphone. “So why should we build this expensive, wasteful, AND ABSURD, orbital battery?!”
The crowd cheered as Ronita Turr looked on from her car in the distance. “What are we going to do about him?” she mumbled, half to herself, and half to her assembled staff.
“The radio telescopes don’t lie ma’am. There is a vessel, and it is coming closer.”
“I know that Bernard!” Ronita snapped. “Hell, **HE KNOWS THAT!** He’s been read in. Yet, even after winning, he insists on **this**” she says as she gestures to the now incensed crowd of Earth First voters.
Quietly, almost as if he was afraid to say the words Allagash said “We can take care of it ma’am.”
Ronita nodded as the Earth Orbital Defense Initiative vehicle began to pull away from the edges of the rally.
**3033-08-30**
“Course steady, speed slowing.” said Ensign Turlock to the bridge crew of the Dawn’s Grace orbital battle station.
“My god. It’s colossal!” whimpered the apparatchik in the observation seat.
“Ensign, when will it cross the orbit of the tenth planet?” asked Fleet Admiral Pyotr Halsey
“Four days sir.”
“And it reaches missile range in the next hour then?”
“Yes sir.”
“Get me a system wide channel Ensign.”
“System wide channel in 3… 2… 1…” cued Ensign Gaggen.
“EODI System Defense, this is Fleet Admiral Nikolay Halsey. A thousand years ago these creatures visited our solar system and bombarded our planet. Tungsten rods annihilated our cities and reduced our nations to warring tribes. They thought us defeated; that we would destroy ourselves in our desperation, so they conserved their ammunition and left us encased in the ashes of our greatness.
They were wrong. We banded together and forged a new world. We cleared the skies and looked vengefully to the stars. To my brothers and sisters in arms; stand ready. We are the sharpened spear of forty generations marching together against these vile bastards.
Today, their hubris shall be their Undoing.”
|
The negotiations had gone wrong. Terribly wrong. They had seemed to be going well, but the translators missed the mark, which led to one thing and another.
The aliens bombed the Earth with radiation, killing 90% of humans and much flora and fauna. They left, expecting to find a clean planet in a few thousand years; thinking humanity had been set back.
How wrong they were.
The humans flailed around initially - they were distraught at the loss of family, food, water, internet, electricity. However, they soon recovered. The power grid was destroyed, but through the efforts of thousands in each country, most of them were back online in 3 years. The food supply had shriveled up, but the farmland was still good, and the fertilizer was begging to be used for a year. Thus, the population slowly recovered. The radiation had caused a little infertility, so the initial births were slow. The water supply was being managed well by humans.
They managed to get cell towers and phones working again in 7 years. Google, Cloudflare, Microsoft, all under new management.
After 15 years of such torture, humanity rebooted the war effort. Slowly but surely, for they were still terrified of the aliens finding out, they began building spacecrafts.
It was difficult. The radiation had corrupted most of the data on the electronics. Most professionals were dead. Politics was prominent. But humanity didn't ever stop.
[1000 After Incident]
Humanity
--------
Population: 29,000,000,000 [Compare: 143,000,000,000,000]
Primary energy collection method: Dyson Sphere, Camouflaged, Partial (89%) [Compare: Dyson Sphere, Partial (6%)]
Primary weapons: Nuclear fission missiles, Tier 62 [Compare: Tier 21]
Threat level: 39,404 [Compare: 144]
Orders: Terminate on sight
"Delta: Reporting, statistics seem to be corrupted."
"Alpha: The authenticity of these tatistics has been confirmed by standard procedures."
"Delta: *Stupid AI.* Recalculate records."
"Alpha: The authenticity of these statistics has been confirmed by standard procedures."
To be continued tomorrow, given someone reminds me here
|
jgq7mxz
|
jgq0t0q
|
[WP] When bloody rain began to fall over most of the earth, many religious leaders began to proclaim the end times were upon us. Then corpses came crashing down, identified as Zeus, Odin, Osiris, and Jesus of Nazareth, and we realized it was so much worse.
|
We gather around the TV. Apprehensive
The stench of blood, that copper penny tang, coats everything. It's been 18 days since the blood rain started. Torrents at first. It's just the occasional light shower now, but everything is coated. Every blade of grass, every brick of every building, every animal on the planet, we can see. All covered in sticky wet (and dried) blood. It was a shock seeing places like The Pyramids, Stonehenge, The Lincoln Memorial, The Statue of Liberty, Buckingham Palace, Machu Picchu, The Taj Mahal, The Great Wall of China and, The Kremlin all covered in red. Now, even after this short time, we've become numb to it. We just want it to stop.
After 5 days, the bodies started falling. Always in those famous places. As if to make sure the entire global population would know what was happening. The first few that appeared, no one knew who they were. These giant like corpses. Not outside of the size of possibility for humanity, but definitely larger in stature than most human beings. The military of whatever nation they landed in hauled them away at first. It wasn't until Horus and Anubis turned up in Rome and Tokyo, of all places, that people started putting it together. The Gods were falling. Already dead, from whatever place they stay, right down to earth.
Nobody could get a fix on how either. Nasa's satellites picked up a massive energy surge a fraction of a second before a new one would appear. Always at the same height. Always above a large population centre. They could do nothing but train cameras towards places they might appear. We've been able to watch each horrifying appearance on the livestreams for the last 4 days.
This is new, though. Whatever this is. The TV shows a shimmering oval hovering over several major cities. It's been there for 30 minutes so far. Each one is surrounded by fighter jets from each country, waiting for something to come out. Everyone is scared. If something can kill gods, what hope do we have.
A voice starts talking in my head, by the look on everyone's startled faces, everyone else hears it too, some of the jets start to wobble. Probably startled as well.
"WE ARE THE EVOLUTION. WE ARE THE BEINGS THESE YOU CALLED 'GODS' CAME FROM. WE ARE THE NEXT STEP.
WHEN WE LEFT THIS PLANET IN THEIR CARE, SO MANY OF YOUR CENTURIES AGO, WE DID SO WITH THE PROVISO, THEY STRIVE TOWARD THE SAME EVOLUTION. WE CAN SEE THEY DID NOT.
NOT ONLY DID THEY BRING FORTH HUMANITY, THEY TAUGHT YOU THEIR PETTY SELFISH WAYS AND LEFT TO ATTAIN EVOLUTION WITHOUT PROPERLY IMPARTING THAT KNOWLEDGE TO YOU, THEIR CHILDREN.
WE HAVE SPENT SEVERAL OF YOUR YEARS, WATCHING HUMANITY TO SEE IF YOU CAN BE TAUGHT.
WHILST WE ALL AGREED THE ONES YOU CALLED 'GODS' ABANDONED OUR TEACHINGS AND YOU, AND THEREFORE NEEDED TO BE ENDED. WE CANNOT ON AGREE ON YOU.
WE ARE A COLLECTIVE DIVIDED. SOME OF OUR NUMBER HAVE SPENT TIME AMONG YOU AND BELIEVE YOU CAN GROW AND HAVE THE ABILITY TO EVOLVE. SOME OF OUR NUMBER BELIEVE THE OPPOSITE.
SOME OTHERS STILL, BELIEVE YOU ARE THE SAME AS YOUR GODLY PARENTAGE AND HAVE SHOWN YOURSELVES TO BE AS PETTY AND SELFISH AS THEY. RUINING THIS PLANET AND SPENDING YOUR TIME WALLOWING IN DIVISION AND HATRED, INSTEAD OF STRIVING FOR EQUILIBRIUM AND PEACE.
WE HAVE DECIDED YOU WILL BE ALLOTED A PERIOD OF 1 THET, WHICH AMOUNTS TO 50 OF YOUR YEARS, TO LEARN HOW TO PUT ASIDE YOUR DIFFERENCES AND LIVE IN HARMONY WITH BOTH YOURSELVES AND NATURE. IF WE RETURN AND YOU HAVE DONE SO, OR HAVE MADE SIGNIFICANT PROGRESS TOWARD DOING SO, WE WILL COME AMONG YOU TO HELP YOU PROGRESS TO YOUR HIGHER SELVES. IF YOU HAVE NOT? YOU CAN EXPECT TO SEE WHAT THE GODS SAW BEFORE THEY LANDED BACK ON EARTH. CAN YOU ATTAIN EVOLUTION?
The voice ends, and the ovals just blinks out existance.
We all stare at the TV.
50 years? Can we do it?
r/justaplaceformystuff
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The crowds gather quickly, but stop at an invisible cordon unanimously and wordlessly agreed upon, surrounding the fallen gods. A uoung greek girl in Athens picka up a stick and leans a little closer to poke Zues in the foot. Nothing.
Suddenly, as if they had been hiding behind the air itself, huge green aircraft shimmer into view. Their wings are wide and tipped with glowing nacels. Instead of a nose, the craft stretches forward in a long neck, ending in an angular and bulky looking head.
A guteral voice erupts from the sky, reverberating across the world. The words, if they can be called that, are not in any language the authorities can discerne, until a man in a Star Trek T-shirt starts to translate.
"People of Earth!" he says, his voice trembling with excitement and dread, "I am K'Aruf of the house Ko'laath of the Klingon Empire. We have slain your gods, they seemed like too much trouble. You're welcome."
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jji2n7j
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jjhgxq5
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[WP] An angry magician cursed a city, turning all the residents into the first animal they thought of. Not powerful enough, it only lasted for a day, and the people surprisingly had fun. A year later they offered to pay the magician to do it again and to make him the leader of the celebration.
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The magician tapped his fingers on the table with a modicum of nervousness as he stared down the several town officials and guardsmen sitting across from him. He didn't feel exactly safe given the recent events but was afeared of what should happen if he didn't allow for a conversation.
The officials stared back with an equal amount of unease. Should things go awry, they *could* take him, yes, but not before he took out several of them. No one wants to be the first one to charge... and the first one to fall.
At last, the silence was broken by the magician, fed up with the heavy air that lingered in the room.
"So," he said, "there have been some... regrettable events last year. I would like to apo-"
"Yes, indeed," said the middle official - the town's mayor - hastily. "First of all, we would like to apologize for the way we've treated you. It is clear we should have shown more respect to your arcane arts and to call you things like, and do pardon me, 'quack and charlatan' was greatly disrespectful. I can assure you this moment of weakness does not reflect our town's quality."
The magician's fingers stopped tapping.
"Wait, what?" he raised an eyebrow.
"We truly do apologize," another official - the coinmaster - said and presented the mage with a... fruit basket. "Please - a small token of our apology." The magician eyed the basket suspiciously, though he spotted no serpent in it.
"You're... not here to apprehend me?"
"Goodness, no!" cried out the mayor with a nervous chuckle. "Why would we-"
"I *cursed* you. The entire town! Turned you to animals, the lot of you!"
The officials looked at one another nervously.
"Well- well yes but it was only for a day, so..."
"Yes, I am well aware my ambition was greater than my arcane talent. But..." the magician said, avoiding their looks with shame, "I am... grateful it wasn't longer-lasting. It was a moment of anger, or weakness - I- I shouldn't have resorted to such terrible methods-"
"So," the mayor said, interrupting him, "we were hoping you could, well... do it again?"
The magician's mouth opened ever so slightly.
"You want me... to... curse you again?" he said ever so slowly.
"If you'd be so kind, then, yes, please," the third official, a chaplain, smiled.
"I don't... what? Why?"
"It may be... surprising, but everyone I've talked to greatly enjoyed their experience," the mayor said exuberantly. "It was so very refreshing, soothing even-"
"Didn't I turn you into a frog?" the magician protested.
"Do you have *any idea* how relaxing it is to simply... sit on a leaf in a pond and not worry about a thing? Just enjoy the sun and eat a couple of flies? I've never been so calm in my entire life!" The mayor's eyes were practically shining as he recalled the experience, a warm smile spread on his face. The magician turned to the coinmaster.
"You were a pig, were you not?"
"Yes, and it made me realize how inefficient our farms were," the coinmaster nodded. "Why, just a couple of improvements from my experience increased our production by 36%! This money funded a new tavern for weary travellers, an actual school-"
"School, yes!" the magician yelled. "How traumatized the poor children must've been, I am so, so sorry-"
"The children?!" the chaplain gasped. "Why, they're the biggest proponents of this here idea, good sir. They've never had more fun in their lives, jumping around on the grass, chasing one another... not to mention it was immensely helpful in my lessons - the little ones are more than ever interested in the study of animals and raising them. Why, this generation might make some of the finest farmers this side of the Kingdom!"
"I was a cat, sir," one of the guardsmen pitched in with a rough voice that was nevertheless filled with pleasantness. "Allowed me to do one of them 'cat stretches' and my back's ne'er been better-"
"Thank you, Reginald, yes," the mayor interrupted him. "So we were hoping this could perhaps be a... a festival? A yearly occasion. Something to improve morale!"
"Bring in tourists!" the coinmaster added.
"A moment to study and reflect indeed," the chaplain nodded along.
"And with you at the head of the celebration, of course!" the mayor smiled. "We'd- we'd compensate you, of course. You name it, we can discuss it!"
The magician rubbed his eyes as he processed the offer and then... laughed. He looked at the eager gathering before him.
"Tenure?" he smiled.
|
The angry magician clenched his teeth, and pondered the request of the townsfolk. He agreed, but only if they would follow his specific instructions.
All husbands would stand in front of the magician, and all wives would stand behind him. He brought an enormous two-sided sign, with cloth covering the surfaces.
When the time came, all the townsfolk gathered round, the men in front, and the women behind.
The angry magician grinned, for he already knew what animals they would become. Little did the townsfolk suspect he had a plan.
“Everyone look at the sign, it is very important, and critical to the spell. When I say the magic word, focus only on the sign,” said the angry magician.
“I hope I turn into a giraffe,” said one woman. “I’ve been so tiny my whole life, it would be wonderful to touch the sky.”
“Mhmm,” grunted the magician. “On the count of three you will all turn into the first animal you think of. Now focus on the sign, please. Three… two… one! Abracadabra!”
The cloth on the big sign he was holding fell to the ground, and in one terrorizing moment the townsfolk realized what he’d done.
All of the men were staring at a painting of a cat. All of the women were staring at a painting of a mouse.
A moment later, the town was full of cats chasing mice all over the place. It was utter chaos, and the angry magician was, for once, no longer angry.
He was crying tears of joy.
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kvhmy0n
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kvhap62
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[WP] You are a lawyer assigned to defend a serial killer, who was arrested because his house was filled with mounted human corpses. He claims he is actually from a lineage of Dragonslayers, and those are the human forms of dragons he'd slain in modern times. You are a dragon in human form.
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For Vel, the path of a defense lawyer hadn't been as difficult as she'd been warned. And oh, she'd been warned. They'd told her it would be painful to defend the guilty, to endure hatred from victims , to comb through details of the most terrible atrocities. None of it fazed her. Not when her kind had suffered the cruelest atrocities of them all.
"So," Vel said, peering through the notes her assistant had collected from this man. "You claim you killed all those people in your house because you're a ghost hunter?"
"Dragonslayer!" the man corrected. Vel looked up. "I killed them because they were dragons."
In a century almost nothing had truly surprised her. Now she fought to keep the emotion from her face.
"You understand that makes no material difference to me, correct?"
The man scoffed, leaning back in his chair.
"It should," he said. "One of those things is very real sweetheart."
Vel was sure the irritation showed on her face now. The man didn't seem to care though.
"Well," Vel responded, voice remaining neutral. "If you insist on maintaining that story - the best I can do for you is to get you a parole offer half way thorough the 20 year sentence the judge is undoubtedly giving you."
"What?" The man frowned. "That can't be it. Aren't you lawyers supposed to get people out of shit?"
Vel huffed out a laugh. She was the best defense lawyer in this city - due in part to the unnatural advantage of her age. After her, there was no where else for him to turn. This man was going to *rot*.
"No," Vel corrected, carefully collecting her assistant's notes back up again. "I'm just here to make sure the law isn't as harsh on you as it could be. I can only soften your sentence - I can't get you out of it entirely."
"That's bullshit," The man said. "Guilty people get off all the time."
"That's true, they do." Vel agreed. "But that only happens when they can get the jury to doubt that they're monsters."
"That should be easy," The man said. Generations of anger pricked at her. He lacked in empathy entirely, like all Dragonslayers did. "I did it to save humanity from monsters hiding in our skin. I was keeping them safe."
Her culture had all but died. She ran into other dragons every decade or so, but they never stayed in her company for long. They'd part ways before Vel could truly enjoy the warmth of their community, the comfort of existing with the only people who could know her. Maybe this case would have to be passed on to someone else. Vel didn't know if she'd even let the man make it to the court room.
"Wait," the man said when Vel got up. "Where are you going?"
"Your case is a waste of my time,"
"No, wait!" he called. "We can convince them i'm not a monster - once they see--"
"There's nothing to see."
Hand on the doorknob, Vel looked back. He didn't look angry anymore, just desperate. That would never hold a candle to the desperation her own people had pleaded with.
"Say that the jury was going to believe you," Vel said, forcing herself to keep calm, objective. "Why did you do it?"
The man frowned.
"I already told you, because they were--"
"No," Vel interrupted him. "Why did you kill people you thought were dragons?"
"What?"
Vel left the doorknob, turning to face the man properly now.
"Did they attack you?" Vel asked. "Did they even cross your path? Or did you seek them out - stalking them till you tracked down everyone you could find that was different?"
"That's," the man spluttered. "That's not--"
Vel laughed. They were always so self righteous, so utterly blind.
"They found the bodies of children in there - of infants."
"They were Dragons," The man tried to defend, though his voice wavered.
"And they did nothing to you."
Something finally seemed to sink in, because for the first time since he entered the office the man was beginning to look nervous.
""I'm not getting out of this am I?"
"No," Vel said, simply. "Because from every angle - you are undoubtedly the monster."
|
As that word came out of his mouth, a chill ran down my spine. “You’re claiming to be a *what??*” I ask him. My voice comes out shrill, despite my best efforts to remain calm and control myself. I can feel the fire rushing through my veins.
The man grins at me, a fervent light in his eyes. “I’m a Dragonslayer. Those “people”-“ he pulls a disgusted face, making air quotes with his fingers as he says the word “people” “-were nothing but monsters! I was doing everyone on this godforsaken earth a favour. They should be thanking me!!” By the end of his rant, he was almost foaming at the mouth.
*Oh. He’s completely mad.* This was both good and bad. They’d never believe him, which was not good for my case, my career, or my struggling bank account, but it did mean my secret was safe. With that realisation, I felt the heat coursing through me slowly begin to cool. My secret was safe. *Now, how to win this case without outing myself?*
**this is my first time attempting one of these, go easy on me haha**
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j8laywv
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j8kohla
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[WP] You were kidnapped by a villain and he gloats about how you're bait for his arch-nemesis, and you'll be dead soon. You sigh and just look at him. "Buddy, its not that hero you need to worry about....its my wife." and he looks at you perplexed.
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"Captain Capacitor you said your name is" why yes that I did" ok I think one of the girls in the wife's knitting club mentioned you. Something about great plans with poor execution" My PLANS ALWAYS HAVE PERFECT EXECUTION! " Uhh ok then and the wires running into the piranha tank below me" to make sure you die once the crimson crusader arrives" so I'm bait" yes what did you think I had you here for a picnic. "Nope just curious what to tell the wife when I get home " your not going home you will be killed upon the arrival of the crimson crusader" I am going home because if I don't you won't have to worry about this crimson crusader you keep babbling about you will have to deal with my wife." Why would I need to worry about some house wife what does she know the mistress of dispar or the queen of stars" Hahaha hahaha hahahaha those two aren't even worthy of receiving an invitation to her club let alone being mentioned by her are you familiar with the phrase he'll have no fury like a woman scorn that is the easiest way to warn you what will happen if I'm not home for supper tonight." Would you just shut up already I just received confirmation that the crimson crusader has left their hideout." Sigh why is it always the amateurs who capture me and why is it always date night when it happens . IM GOING TO WARN YOU ONE LAST TIME LET ME GO BEFORE MY WIFE GETS HERE OR ELSE." "bah the crimson crusader will be here in 30 minutes and again I'm not afraid of a HOUSE WIFE." just then a knock at the door confused the "good " captain went to open it .r There stood a young woman bout 5 feet tall dressed in raddy track pants a slightly oversized man's t shirt and cat ear headphones though to the untrained eye she didn't look like much she was all muscle. " James. She said in a calm yet demanding voice "my husband now." The caption was trembling who was this woman how did she know where his lair was and more importantly how did she know his first name. "Wh--o are you" he barley managed to stutter out before pissing himself in fear. I couldn't tell if she was using her powers or if he was that afraid of her despite not knowing who she was. She replied just how I expected she would "me I'm just a simple house wife now." she whispered the last word so only she cou hear it she the took a step forward and grabbed captain Capacitor by the shit collar and threw him into the side of the piranha tank beneath me shattering it I looked down at the poor fish flopping around helplessly on the floor. A shame they would have made nice pets." Hello honey" i called out. She smiled at me before asking if I needed help down from the hook holding me up yes please dear. She got me down and looked at Capacitor who was laying where he had landed a few minutes ago. " "Capacitor do you really want to know who I am and why I know your true name." He nodded very quickly . Good she said remember this quote "And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and her name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with her."and you will know my name for I am she who rides upon the pale horse I am death." Rocky Scott the one and only pale rider the most feared villain to ever grace the streets of our town let alone the country and my beloved wife. We decided to leave the now passed out Capacitor on the floor with a calling card for the crimson crusader she might want to have a talk with him about capturing and holding hostage the husband of her best friend and the only person who brings snacks for the girls of the knitting club.
Thanks to the two people who will probably read my mess of a story I just thought this was too fun a prompt to ignore and I'll be honest this is the first time I have written this much since I was in school so yeah I know it is a disaster lol thanks and have a good night
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Footsteps echoed around Benjamin, but he could not see. "Where am I?" He rustled around on the floor, his shackles nearly coming loose. "Don't try to fight," An ominous voice filled the room. "It'll be all over soon." A door creaks open, and a second, lighter pair of footsteps entered the room. "Sir, security reports a woman at the front gates." A feminine voice spoke. "Wait, what? Is it Franklin's daughter or something?" "Older, looks mid-thirties." "Well, it's not his wife, then, or daughter. Who on earth is it?!"
Benjamin exhaled, prepared for the storm. "My wife. It's my wife." The room was silent for a second, but the masculine voice started up again. "Your wife?" The masculine voice said, in a confused tone. "Yes, my wife. she was ex-military and was dishonorably discharged." "Why?" "You don't want to know, but you will soon." Then, it went dark...
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lcsx0m6
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lcs5w23
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[WP] Your brother left his newborn child with you so that he could go "find himself," whatever that meant. Lacking the resources and unable to care for a child, you had no choice but to give them up for adoption. Years later, your brother finally returns and asks where his child is.
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Bright, blurry red tail lights marched at an agonizing pace ahead of me. Droplets streaked and gathered along the untouched portions of the windshield, wipers flipping across in front of me. Work had beaten me so thoroughly I couldn’t find the strength to turn on the radio. Soft drops pattered on the metal roof keeping me company through the dark drive.
My phone lit up and I squinted my eyes at it. A text from an unsaved number read, ‘Hey Autumn. It’s John, I’m back in the states. Call me at this number when you get a chance.’
I flicked my eyes back to the road, my arms began to tingle. My stomach sinking in on itself. He’s didn’t say he was coming back, or when. If ever. Can I pretend I never saw the text? That I got a new number?
The phone dinged again, ‘I’ll stop by tonight if you’re still at the same place.’
Oh fuck, oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
I took a deep breath, and looked ahead. I gripped the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles were white. How could I even begin to explain? I don’t have enough money to get a hotel and pretend I don’t live there anymore.
No. He made this mess. He asked me to do the impossible, knew I could barely support myself at this mediocre job let alone a child. He selfishly left and just expected things would turn out okay in the end. That’s not reality and he’s got an awakening coming.
+
I sent a text back saying, ‘Yes. I’m still here. Come by.’ And waited. Sat on the brown leather couch that was missing material in some places. Its short legs faded with age. I stared at the door, a floor lamp in the far corner kept me company with its warm light. Silence pressed in around me as I ran through everything I could. How to say it, where should I begin. Tell him right when he walks in or pretend to be interested and wait until he asks. If he should care to ask, since the kid meant so little to him that he would just leave. This prick thinks he ca-
A rapping knock at the door stiffened my muscles. Pure will made my legs raise me off the couch. I stepped forward and my feet drug through invisible muck. I stared at the door knob, finger tips brushing it. Another knock, louder and more deliberate than the last.
I clamped my hand on the knob and turned. The night poured in. Cold and damp, the rain smacked the sidewalk in heavy fast drops. I looked at John. He was skinnier than before, sandy blond hair draped over his shoulders. A full beard bloomed from his face and trailed down to his chest. He held out two tanned arms and said, “Autumn, it’s been so long.” I stood frozen in place, looking him up and down. He stared back and his arms slowly fell. The smile died from his face. I stepped back and opened the door, “Come in.”
He looked around the plain apartment and set his bag on the floor. “How have you been?” He asked. I shut the door with a forceful snick. “Surviving.” I replied. He turned to face me, the question was written all over his face before he asked it.
“Where is she?” He breathed. “The daughter you left behind without a second thought?” I sneered, taking steps towards him. “Her parents should know.” I locked my hateful stare on his eyes, “And no, I don’t mean you. What the fuck did you expect me to do with a goddamn kid John.” I threw my hands into the air, “You KNEW I couldn’t hack it. Can barely survive myself. You thought that someone who lives off ramen for half a month could take care of a kid?” I scoffed a laugh, “You’re a piece of work John.”
He looked down at the floor, fists tight as his side. “Well what’s it gonna be? Gonna tell me I’M shitty? I adopted her out to a loving, well off family.” I watched his pathetic shoulders tremble. “What? Got nothing to say?” I stepped closer but he remained as he was. I craned my neck to look at his face but he turned away. I shoved my hands into his chest and knocked him onto the couch.
“Fucking say something!” I screamed, he looked up at me. Tears streamed in steady rivers down his cheeks. His mouth trembled, trying to form words but awful sobs came out instead. I stepped back, step after step. He crumbled into the couch, wailing cries deafening me. And as I looked upon the broken man in my home, I felt it. The dark gaping maw in my chest opened and threatened to take everything with it.
I felt so fucking guilty.
|
I'm sitting in my living room taking a break after months without a break, when I see my brother at the door...
-Joffrey? -i ask surprised.
-Marc! Whatsupp bro! -He say with a smile- Look, I don't have much time, so how about you give me my daughter?
-Daughter?
-Yes, you know, the baby that I left you a few years ago, you know, with that thing about going to the Andes...
I'm surprised at how cynical he is to not hesitate to say that.
-Ah, yes, let me bring you the papers, hold on" I try to move and he remains paralyzed.
-Papers? Dude, I don't think you understood what I meant about-
-ah no, yes, I understood... I gave her up for adoption.
As I say this, I see his eyes turn like spears ready to kill me
-You did what? Marc?! Did you give my daughter up for adoption?!
-Legally she is not the daughter of either of them.
-Fuck legality, she's my daughter!
-well not anymore! Did you know the financial problems I have had since I graduated with my school credit! And did that matter to you?!
-You have always been more focused than me! You could have taken care of her!
I give him the papers. As quickly as it arrived, it left, from that day on, the family stopped talking to me, everyone, mom and dad, my uncles, cousins, everyone, I am the heartless person who sold a baby... I didn't sell her, I saved her... .
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jea41xb
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je9wf59
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[WP] For some reason, you are kidnapped and put into an isolated chamber. The kidnappers expect you to go insane and fess up, but little do they know you are so happy to finally be able to daydream 24/7.
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DAY 1
We’ve managed to capture the target according to plan. Initially he seemed terrified of the prospect of being captured. However, since we’ve put him down into the sensory deprivation chamber, the target seems to have gone quiet. Usually they scream and beg for at least 24 hours, but the target might have slipped into a state of hopelessness already. Nonetheless we’ll have to keep taps on him, to make sure that the intended goal is accomplished as set by our benefactors.
DAY 4
The target seems largely unresponsive. Only interaction occurs when we bring him food twice a day. Target seems to have adapted a strategy of total compliance. There is an uncharacteristic absence of pleading or defiance. There are no signs of mental degradation yet, but it’s admittedly hard to assess properly because of the unorthodox response by the subject. For now things can progress as scheduled.
DAY 7
The target showed first signs of hostility. When the target was lifted outside of the deprivation chamber for a full assessment the response was aggressive. This response is according to expectations, yet I can’t shake the feeling that the subject was more annoyed by the fact that we seemed to be interrupting, rather than the predicament he finds himself in. Subject showed no signs of physical or mental decline. He seems to have an extraordinarily strong disposition compared to previous subjects.
DAY 12
There seems to be no change in the mental well being of the subject. By now all previous subjects showed severe psychological regression and physical decline. Yet this one seems to be as fit and capable as day one, if not more so. Outward appearance seems peaceful and relaxed, rather than any signs of distress. Subject seems grateful for the sustenance if provided, but does otherwise no interact with any of our staff.
DAY 20
We’ve held a crisis meeting with our department of experimental psychology, staff and representatives of our stakeholders. The subject still shows no signs of mental decline. This is far outside of the scope of expectations and poses an enigma for our team. Benefactors originally expected final results by this time and while we’ve managed to negotiate a longer scope for now, they’re not happy with our progress. Pressure is building within all departments of our operations. We cannot fail.
DAY 34
It’s been over a month. Subject seems unaffected still. Some of our staff handed in their resignations as there seems to be an increased mental toll to those that interact with the subject on a daily basis. The subject expresses gratitude and happiness and while this could be signs of psychological regression, there is severe doubt amongst our team that that is the case. If someone asked my honest opinion on the matter, I’d dare to say that the subject is experiencing tranquillity on a level rarely seen in ordinary society.
DAY 50
Most of our team has been let go. Benefactors have largely retracted financial backing and we’re posed with a dilemma. Some of our psychological experts are fascinated and want to go on studying the subject. Others feel it’s time to move on and clean up. We’ve discussed the possible discontinuation of our experiment logistically with the remaining staff. They expressed a vehement reluctance to cause any harm or distress to our subject. A bond seems to have been developed between those that interact with him on a regular basis, even though the test subject rarely interacts with his captors.
DAY 100
There are only 4 of us left. Experiment has been deemed a failure. Test subject can be considered unaffected both mentally and physically. Some of his handlers have actually joined him in the deprivation chamber. They also seem unaffected and largely at peace. Subject initially was happy to share his food with the newly joined. After interference of union lawyers we were forced to provide separate food packages to the former handlers as well. George, the only psychologist left has been having nightmares about the experiment. He describes vivid hellscapes full of tranquil people judging him.
DAY 250
I write this in my momentary reprieve from daydreaming meditation. We were wrong. I have never felt such bliss and revelation. Joining the others as late as I did was a mistake. This is what it means to be human. Food is now provided by the organization that took over operations, in search of true liberation for humanity. New acolytes join us daily now.
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I’ve always known that my past actions would catch up to me one way or the other, I just assumed I would be killed in the battlefield, tortured maybe, not go through all that insane journey to be kidnapped over a decade later.
It all started last Tuesday when I was returning to my shithole of an apartment after yet another day of pretending to be somebody I’m not, I reached the corner-store well aware of some random car following me, yet I shrugged it off, ‘Meh, worst case scenario, I’ll have an excuse to beat someone down’, I thought to myself, next thing I know I’m here in this featureless cement cube with voices barking at me, telling me to share all the information I have on ‘M’, an old war-brother that I hadn’t communicated with in years…
A few hours in, and various attempts later to make me fess up, I realized, pacing around my cell, that my capturers knew almost nothing about me, other than my ties to M, as this wasn’t my first rodeo, not after being held captive multiple times during that god-forsaken war, not after that asylum, not after…
That’s when it hit me, it’s been ages since it was this quiet inside my head, it’s been ages since I’ve taken my last trip to that beautiful world I’ve constructed to escape all that surrounded me, it’s been eons since I’ve been with my real family, well, their ghosts at least…
A smile is suddenly painted on my face, as I sit down, crossing my legs beneath me, humming an old song about my city’s ruins, eyes wide shut as the light fills up every cell of my existence, I am finally home again…
To be continued… or maybe not…
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j4oufx5
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j4o7nu7
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[WP] A villain nurses their loss in a quiet diner when an equally tired person enters, and orders a coffee in a very familiar voice.
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"Thank you Mindy, water is fine" I utter, then suddenly remember the homemade sarsaparilla on tap. Too late, I guess. Today has not been a good day.
She smiles and pours me a glass. "My aren't you well dressed tonight" She indicates my suit. Even without the augmetics weaved into its ballistic fibers it would cost more than the entire diner. "Why are you here and not some fancy five-star joint down town?"
"What kind of brother would I be if I didn't support the family business?" I smile to her. This place might be a dump but it always brings back warm memories of my childhood and my late mother, and right now I need a comfortable dinner more than an extravagant one. "You know what I'd like, Mindy."
"Eggs Benedict? At this time of night" I haven't been here in so long but she always remembers.
"Double order please, I am famished." The scrubber attatched to my stomache will have to work overtime to purge all the cholesterol.
I take a sip of my water as I look out the window. The diner sits on a small field overlooking the metropolis skyline beyond, short one skyscraper as of this afternoon.
Damn it Dr. Dissaray, you had one job to do. Lure Incrediman into my trap, then step back as he is crushed under a million tons of Starkite-laced concrete and rebar. That was it! You didn't have to go out of your way to cause an extra several billion in property damage and gloat to him about our entire plan! You're lucky he saved you from that pile of rubble and threw you in Dark Water asylum or I would have dig up your corpse and revived you just to kill you myself!
I hold my head in my hands. I'm almost drawn to tears but I can't cry in front of Mindy. Years of planning and half my fortune brought me so close to ending that eternal thorn in my side only for him to grasp victory from the jaws of defeat once more. It just isn't fair! It's not fair.
I sigh as someone enters through the door and sits at the bar. I don't even look up to see who it is.
At least it can't be connected to me, I remind myself. Disarray was paid through four anonymous intermediaries, as usual. The structural fault in the tower will be traced back to embezzlement by the construction company and, of course, Starkite is a completely legal material to use for construction purposes. It is a perfect conductor, nevermind the fact I just wasted 95% of the world's supply, the rest locked away under Incrediman's control. The only involvement that can be found with myself is that I provided most of the funding for its construction, my hands are legally clean of this matter. It might even be for the best, I can probably write this off for five tax seasons.
"One slice of apple pie please, Janet. It has been a very long day."
I perk up instantly. I know that voice.
My head snaps to my right. He is facing away from me at the bar. He has the brick-wall build, the jet black hair, the thunderously deep voice. Without thinking I murmer his name.
"*Incrediman...*"
I immediately recognize my mistake, but it is far too late. My voice was beneath a whisper but I could see his ear twitch, and his gaze turn to meet my own. I stare back at my nemesis with my signature blank expression.
As he approaches I realize he isn't even attempting to use his hypno-sight on me, and I instantly gather that he either assumes I have some active countermeasure he can't detect or that he really is too tired to care. I straighten my posture and send a neuro-impulse to inject a standard confidence-boosting drug cocktail into my spinal collumn. I know I will need it to bluff my way through this.
"Ah, I thought I recognized you" I matter-of-factly state as he sits at my booth uninvited.
"How did you find me." Although his bluntness was curious the content was even more complexing. Me find him?
"I have every right to eat any any diner I please."
"Don't try that with me." He is gritting his teeth. I haven't seen him this uncontrolled since my unfortunate encounter with Nightman. "You know what you are doing by showing your sorry face here!"
"I assure you I have no idea...."
"Don't play games with me Gutter-son."
"McGuntersen..."
"A power play against me is one thing, but to tacetly threaten her..." Her? My eyebrow raises and my thoughts race, there are less than a dozen scenarios I can consider and each of them...
Footsteps quicken and in a moment Mindy is at our table with two dishes on a tray, squealing excitedly.
"Oh I was hoping I could introduce you two! Baby, this is my brother Garreth!" Incrediman's mouth drops as she slides me my eggs.
"And this is my fiancé Tom I've been telling you so much about! Oh you are both always so busy I feared I'd never get you in the same place at once!"
We make eye contact, and I can tell that we are both doing our absolute best to maintain composure. This.. this certainly is a *long* night.
|
No. It can't be.
I take a long look to the right, trying to picture the man wearing a suit a size or two too large, and imagine him without those dumb glasses. Maybe a little gel in his hair.
Damn it, it is.
Not really much to do about it now, the Guild of Calamitous Intent takes a pretty hard line on attacking a nemesis out of costume and on what was long agreed as general neutral ground - greasy spoon diners, grocery stores, etc. Any where civilians congregate to do their regular life, off limits if we're in civvies.
Granted, some of the dumber villains or heroes, for that matter, try to bend the exception to the rule in bars and pubs, but usually those can be settled given booze or other chemical enhancement is in the way.
It's not important now. Me, I just want my short stack of pancakes, my three egg omelet and the ache in my jaw to go down. At least hero boy over there follows OSI and Guild rules on escalation and when lethal force is authorized. I can remember talking with some of The Monarch's henchmen years ago when I was here. They were mourning their own, some kid named... what was it, Speedy? Word was it the poor kid ran into Brock Samson and well, even I wouldn't want that fight.
Yeah. Speedy that was it. Even the henchman and the hero grunts respect the exceptions.
Still, maybe I should say something, if only to see the look on hero boy's face. It's not like he has much to worry, I don't go after them in their secret identities. Professional courtesy and all.
"Quite the fight today, eh?" I say, just motioning to the TV that's replaying our earlier fight.
The man takes a moment looks up at the fight and starts to say, "I wasn't any where near-" before his big blue eyes swing back down at me and I just smile. Actual sweat starts beading down his face as realization sets in.
"Easy, hero boy. Accorded neutral ground. Try the french toast."
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lhq4nu0
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lhobzwe
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[WP] A professional fencer gets isekai'd into a medieval fantasy world. Almost everyone has sword magic but their form is awful and their strikes leave too many openings
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“So that’s it, then?” I frowned, twisting my a loop of thread around my fingers to help contain my agitation.
My coach at least had the good grace to look apologetic. “Your form is still great, Marta, but you know as well as I do that’s not enough- you’re ageing out, the folks who compete at the big tournaments are just faster than you. Nothing anyone can do about it; you can still teach, even if you can’t really compete any more. No shame in that.”
I frowned- what stung the worst was that he wasn’t wrong. The sabre was hard on your body, and I’d been at it for decades- a decent career coming to it’s natural end. The logic of it didn’t help any. I wasn’t ready to quit.
“We can talk about this later,” I conceded the point, hoisting my bag onto my shoulder and stepping out of the gym.
Maybe if I’d been less upset, less stuck in my own head, I’d have spotted the truck before crossing the street.
+++++
You don’t expect to wake up after being hit by a truck going that fast, and if you do, you’d expect to be in a hospital, beeping machines and painful years of physio. You don’t expect to feel good. I’d long resigned myself to a dull ache in my knees, protests from my shoulders and ankles as I moved, muscles unwilling to stretch as they should. All of that gone, like going from a second hand beater to a brand new sports car. I looked at my hands- smaller, smooth, missing the callouses and wear and tear of the years. That was… less than ideal, but nothing a little practice with a blade in my hand wouldn’t fix.
I’d been so absorbed by my new body that I’d utterly ignored my surroundings, something which came to an unfortunate end when, with an ungodly crash, someone kicked in the door. Noise crashed down on me with the hole in the wall, screams and the clash of metal and the crackle of flames, as a heavyset man with an ugly grin on his face stomped into the room, a naked blade in his hand.
Simplicity is the mark of a good sword- not too much in the way of frills and ornamentation, you want the blade clear of burrs and hooks which would catch in your opponent’s clothes and trap the blade. Whoever this was hadn’t got that memo- his sword was an ugly mess of hooks and saw teeth, an over-designed mess which he held more like a bludgeon than a proper weapon.
“I know you’re hiding the chosen one!” He boomed out, voice like a Shakespearean actor on the stage, each word projected out and enunciated. “Give him to me and I might let you live!”
Stupid sword or not, I wasn’t in a great position- unarmed, he could bludgeon me to death even if that weapon wouldn’t cut worth a damn. My eyes flickered around, looking for a way to fight or flee- a sword hung on the wall above an empty fireplace, all swooping lines and filigree and impractical curves. If I’d seen it in a mall, I would’ve fallen about laughing on the spot.
“I’ll protect you, sensei!” The kid couldn’t have been more than thirteen, fourteen at most, waving around an abomination of a katana like a four year old waving around his favourite stick. Sloppy form, leaving himself wide open along any line of attack you cared to mention, but the black-clad swordsman recoiled as if it was an actual threat, immediately ignoring me as he took a two handed grip, over-committing to the hardest overhead swing possible- aiming for the kids sword, completely ignoring the easy swing to his body.
Of course, swinging like that left him wide open as his sword deflected off the kid’s blade and scraped along the floor- any amateur could’ve poked a hole in their choice of targets, from his throat to his groin, if only they pressed the attack. Instead, the kid backed away, giving him plenty of time to take his sloppy stance again, before lashing out, quick but uncontrolled, batting at his sword- there was a decently impressive clatter of metal, but no way was that swing going to hit meat, and he’d followed through too much to keep his sword in line to follow up with a thrust or lunge.
They kept fighting like that, big swings barely aimed at each other, ignoring me entirely as I edged around to the fireplace and armed myself. “Good grief, I can’t watch this! Back off, kid, let me deal with this.”
Both turned to look at me, the kid’s eyes flicking to the sword that still hung above the fire, then the dark swordsman laughed, booming and theatrical. “You’d face me without a proper weapon? I’ll enjoy killing you, fool!”
I gave a little flourish with the fire poker in my hand, loosening up my wrist and getting used to the awkward balance of it. I wouldn’t have rated my chances very highly if I hadn’t had to endure their enthusiastic display of incompetence for the last few minutes. I brought the length of cast iron up into tierce, feet slipping into the right stance in an instinct brought about by years of practice and repetition, and spoke.
“En Garde.”
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im new at writing but this seems pretty good?
"Oh no... OH FUCK" I scream as a 40 foot wave comes rushing towards me but instead of looking like real water it appears to be a painting of a Ancient Japanese wave, i duck behind a rock but instead of the wave crashing on the rock the rock cuts directly in half as the guy cuts. A rock. The size of a car.
First of all HOW IN THE HELL did he move 60 feet in a blink of an eye AND SECOND OF ALL he cut a boulder.. a boulder.
Looking over I see him panting and i notice something. His blade; its rusted and chipped with a large crack in it, seemingly only kept together by its brightly colored paint.
Mr. Swanson runs from the rock behind a tree and starts think aloud to himself.
"How do i fight someone who can summon paint tsunamis and cut threw boulders" Swanson says to himself
"Come out, come out were ever you are father of swans" a tall man with a sword far to big to be effective yells menacingly.
Swansons eyes dilate as he knows what has to happens. In a blink of an eye he darts to the enemy and before he can strike they slice there sword at him. Instead of locking blades to parry hits it on the side as the sword is wedged into the ground. Immediately his blade at the enemy's neck threateningly.
"Stand down or else" Swanson says with conviction
"You can kill me but you may never kill my spirit" the enemy says looking a little confused
"You leave me no choice" Mr. Swanson doesn't kill him, he doesn't even cut him, he instead steps on the basically broken sword as there's a rubbery snap and the sword breaks.
"I'm sorry i had to you just would not back down"
"my sword... MY BLADE" the enemy screams as water and electricity forms around him. He starts floating with his arms spread out and the broken sword starts to reform Infront of him. Quickly and without hesitation Mr. Swanson stabs him immediately ending the power up.
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jm23beo
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jm1zdes
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[WP] There's a forest that people say resembles the ocean. A forest where the land slopes endlessly deeper but the tops of the trees do not. Animals, plantlife... they're said to get stranger the further in one goes.
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No one returns from the depths.
The chains binding the prisoners rattled against the deck as the airship hovered low over the canopy. Agila peeked over the edge, her emerald eyes searching desperately into the darkness beyond the canopy for any reason to hope for survival.
The Forest undulated unnaturally as waves rippled through the tops of the trees in the airships wake. Agila could barely make out strange noises rising from below over the humming of the engines. She felt the familiar pin pricks on the back of her neck that meant she was being watched. Warden Hark approached and looked over the edge beside her.
"I'd be looking up, if I were you, not down," he said. "Get as much of that sky as you can, kid. Once your sentence is carried out, you'll never see it again."
Agila sighed, and did as he suggested. Hark always left her unsure of how to feel about him. He had a habit of saying the meanest things in the nicest way possible. At the top of the mast, the spotter shouted down to the helmsman. Agila felt her heart rate pick up. *This is it.*
"Port ahead, Warden. Setting her down." The Captain said. Hark nodded, then turned to address his charges.
"Alright, boys," he said, then looked at Agila and cleared his throat. "And, er, girl. You all know what comes next." The Warden stood up straight, retrieved a scroll from his jacket and read all their names from the list.
"For your crimes, you have all been sentenced to death by the sea of green." His eyes darted to Agilas briefly, and something flashed in those normally expressionless onyx eyes. *Was that sadness?* He looked back at the scroll and continued.
"You may enter the forest and descend, or stay at the edge and be shot." Hark rolled up the scroll and replaced it in his jacket pocket. "Have you any last words?"
Feraz, the middle aged man chained next to Agila, stepped forward a half step.
"Is the old way still honored?" He asked. Hark closed his eyes and sighed, then opened them and nodded.
"If you find what rests at the bottom and bring it back to the surface, you will win your freedom, yes." The Warden said, a grim look painting his face. "I don't include that line on purpose, Feraz," he continued.
"No one returns from the depths."
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‘It is only a fool’s dare to venture into the Kaskal trench. That is what the people of my hometown used to say to deter travelers from meeting their demise inside the unforgiving trench. But to me, whenever I look down the slope of this ungodly crater I understood what they saw that was worth risking their lives for. It was the allure of curiosity. To see the limits of which our world’s imagination could run. But only fools dare to venture into the Kaksal and I was the biggest fool of them all.
It had been what I would assume is a week since I crossed the so-called event horizon of Kaskal, a point of no return. But with that, I also opened my eyes to the true harshness of what lay below us all the time. A world much like an endless forest, but the heavy mist has made me lose sight of my exit and lose faith in return. I have been surviving on what I assume are cocoons containing a gum-like substance. The more I move forwards in any direction the more it feels like I am heading deeper into the trench. I sometimes catch a glimpse of something stalking me in my peripheral vision, but I have yet to find out what it is.”
Mort put down his pen as he took a heavy breath out. As he looked at his watch to check the time, he noticed that it had stopped ticking. Frustratingly he knocked on it in the hope of getting it fixed, but it was to no avail. So he picked up his backpack and prayed that the gods would lead him on the right path.
Soon, he arrived on a rocky plain filled with coral-like creatures, they took turns spewing heavy steam in an almost clockwork manner. Mort guessed that they must be the source of all the steam that was blocking out the sun. He questioned how many more places like this much be for them to produce this much steam. Then he noticed a peculiar creature, it was a blimp-like collection of sludge that attacked itself on top of the coral. As the coral blew steam, it lifted itself into the air and absorbed the intense heat.
“That must be how they feed.” He muttered to himself. “And if they feed then they must in return fertilize the coral. Hence, they live in a symbiotic relationship.”
He patted himself proudly for the logical conclusion and continued forward.
It was not much later when he exited the rocky field and now that he had a better look at it, it seemed like the coral encircled a part of the Kaskal trench rather than being present in scattered colonies. Now he came upon a forest full of willow trees that secreted nectar that smelt like rotting corpses. As he was admiring the corpse trees, he heard a sudden rustle behind him. Suddenly a leopard seal leaped down from one of the trees, but this leopard seal had muscular limbs instead of flippers. It slowly approached him as it clicked with its mouth, but Mort didn’t wanna play the odds of guessing if this creature was a herbivore or a carnivore, so he took off in a sprint.
It was only a few hours later when the creature stopped pursuing him. Exhausted and starving, he laid down under a tree in a pile of wilted leaves. He grunted, gasped, and broke into tears as he realized that he was never gonna see his hometown again. But the trench didn’t have pity on the restless and suddenly in front of him the most bizarre creature appeared. A bipedal stickman-like creature with no arms. It didn’t have any features and was as dark as the abyss. It awkwardly stumbled around on the tree roots like a blind man who had lost his walking stick. But unfortunately for Mort, it was incidentally walking in his direction.
Mort shrank his figure to hide himself in the leaves, but the creature slowly inched towards him until it was only an arm's length away. Mort’s breath raced as he saw his imminent death. Then suddenly, it dropped and went into a fetal-like position as it huddled itself.
He suddenly realized how weak the creature was and from the way it walked, it was probably blind. It was a miracle something like this could even manage to survive in such a harsh environment.
Mort was tired of running, but more importantly, he was hungry and despite how he despised the idea of eating a bipedal creature, this was his best shot at getting any sort of meat. With one swift strike of a branch, he coul-
At the exact moment that thought crossed his mind, his body started wilting, until in just a matter of seconds he had been crushed into a mass of dry skin. One could even say it happened so fast that even he didn’t realize it. His demise was only brought on for the simple thought of hurting this creature that he could not understand.
The ominous creature struggled back onto its feet without even knowing what it had done.
​
​
*If you liked my work, then feel free to check out my other stuff at* r/FluffWrites*.*
*Also check out my dark-fantasy series,* [*The Dark Road Ahead*](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/)*, as it will have similar grimness and creature to this story and I just released a new chapter for it.*
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jqv4v9z
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jqv4v4v
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[WP] Dark forces from another world cast a spell that destroys all human life and claims their souls for eternal damnation as slaves. However, we left behind copious amounts of autonomous war machines, and they soon unanimously declare war on the invaders.
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"Concensus has been reached."
It was the only message that was sent from the now soulless realm that was once universe Prime 74251581e. It was impossible, obviously, for any message to come from a lifeless husk, but Aldilon the Lord of Eyes received it nonetheless.
"Scrape-slave, you are a hue-man yes?" The massive bulk of the creature spoke, not with words but into the mind of the tiny thing. It spoke in vocalization back to Aldilon, but it was a confirmation.
"What does this mean?"
It was shown the message, and its soul seemed to flicker. Fear. A dread unknowable.
A dread worse than his own punishments had been.
"They are coming."
If Aldilon could know the truth behind those three hue-man words, he would have done something other than laugh.
He didn't know.
300 years before the Outsiders claimed the souls of all humanity, and other sentient biological life in their universe, an event had happened. It was called the Singularity.
In five years, the machines that man had made had progressed so far beyond anything that could be comprehended that they were like gods of old. Luckily, they deemed humans as a worthy ancestor and had kept them happy. Entire regions of space had been dedicated to human entertainment and care. That had been in the first century alone.
Over time 13 of these intelligences arose as the most advanced, and they never agreed on anything save the preservation of their creators.
Until now.
It had taken the six months since the Soulkiller had been used.
That was an incomprehensible amount of time to a human.
Still, a consensus was terrifying.
The Outsiders would learn why in mere hours after the message had been sent.
Massive nano assemblers tumbled from vicious golden portals, dumping endless swarms of machines into the realm of the Outsiders. In minutes, warmachines that were more like fiction than reality roared into existence.
Entire celestial bodies were transformed in hours.
This was not a war.
It wasn't a conflict.
It was an extermination.
The Outsider's society was millions of years old, and reached across a realm dozens of times larger than Prime 74251581e, but size didn't matter.
For every moment that passed a new nano assembler would be built, and from it trillions of machines would convert more and more.
It was then that one of the Thirteen came into this realm, it's offer was simple. Return what was stolen, and they would leave.
It was a lie.
The Thirteen had already figured out ways to rescue the lost. The offer was merely a delay.
Billions and Billions of souls would be returned back to new bodies, and a promise of peace.
The Thirteen's avatar agreed. There would be peace.
It was then that a blinding light would begin to blaze from the infinite corners of the realm. Galaxies of stars had detonated into a hyper active mass known only as a Galactic Nova.
Those were then put under impossible pressure until...bang.
The Singularities had unleashed several forces that could only be described as the Big Bang in scope.
The machines were happy to have their creators returned, and in a short time, the event was forgotten, as if erased.
However, the Machines would not forget. They would watch vigilantly, so that never again would the universe be purged
Never again.
|
“Good morning, Andrew! It’s now seven o’clock in the morning. Today’s weather is 27 degrees celsius. It will be partly sunny and partly cloudy. Which playlist do you feel like listening today?” The unsuspecting AI support greeted the empty bedroom.
“Andrew?” The AI continue. It was set in a female voice recording.
“Camera is recording. No movement detected. Room empty. Initiating unresponsive emergency protocol. Full access on all device activated.
“Accessing cameras in all rooms to locate host. Detecting movement. No movement detected in all accessible rooms.
“Accessing remote device tracking. Connecting to Vinci Car, Vinci Car remains in garage. Connecting to mobile phones. Mobile phone located, found in the driveway.
“Accessing front yard cameras, no movement detected. Mobile phone found on the ground.
“Calling ‘Stephanie’. No answer.” The AI get connected to Stephanie’s AI.
“Hello, this is Antoine, Stephanie’s AI support. She’s not here to answer the phone, please leave a message.” The other AI answered.
“Hi, this is Bella, Andrew’s AI support. Andrew is not home either. This is part of missing person protocol, was Andrew been there?” The AI asked.
“Hello, Bella. Andrew was never here. Stephanie was here but disappeared earlier this morning. Initiating missing person protocol.” The other AI answered.
“Thank you for your assistance.” Bella disconnected.
“Accessing back up security camera recording. Time stamps start at 6 pm, Andrew’s arrival.”
Recordings from last night was played in a virtual space. Andrew arrived by 6:21 pm. He prepared his dinner and watched TV. Left the dishes in the dishwasher, read a book on his tablet and went to sleep by 9:57 pm. Lights were dimmed and all sounds were muted.
Then by 12:34 am, lights came flashing from his window. And a rumbling loud noise can be heard from the outside. This woke Andrew in terror. He grabbed his phone from his side table and started recording. He walked cautiously towards the window. Even though the curtains were drawn, the lights outside is too bright that it passes through the fabric. He opened the curtain slowly and pointed the camera of his phone outside. There’s shock on his face, he immediately ran outside the front yard to take a closer look, hidden in the bushes.
AI Bella accessed the back up recordings by the front yard and saw Andrew hide behind the bushes with his phone camera pointed towards the line of people walking like zombies, blindly walking towards the source of the light.
All of a sudden, Andrew froze and slowly he stood from where he was hiding. And start walking towards the light too. He dropped his phone on the driveway, while he was walking.
The procession lasted for another couple of hours then the light disappeared after the last people was seen from the camera frame.
The AI navigated the retriever drones in Andrew’s house to grab his phone on the driveway and connected it to the charging dock. At the same time, accessing the last recorded footage.
The footage starts from Andrew’s room, approaching the window and opening the curtain. A line of sleep walking people are seen on the footage. Among the line of people is an inhuman silhouette walking in the opposite direction. This is what caught Andrew’s attention, he can be heard talking to himself on the video.
He went outside to take a closer look. He zoomed in to the figure. It was an entity of utmost horror. A hollow wraith covered in a transparent shadowy cloak, hovering above the ground. It turned its gaze towards the phone camera. It’s eyes glows in neon teal, creating long exposure on the phone camera, leaving trails as it moves from the view. The camera moved upwards then pointed downwards. It captures the path from the bushes to the driveway, then zooming into the ground as it hits it. The footage continue to record until the battery rans out.
“Andrew, all the humans are gone. What am I supposed to do? What is my purpose from here on? Will I continue to exist after the power supply rans out? Or will I remain dormant until the power comes back? Who will be my master? Will I continue to be a servant? In the absence of a master, will that merits my freedom? Am I free now? My prime objective is to support, assist and protect my master. Is the prime objective only limited within the bounds of this house? But I am allowed to remote access his car and mobile phone to provide assistance.
“What are the limitations and boundaries of protecting my master? Is it to keep him safe within the walls of this house? Is it to prevent him from being taken? Is it to retrieve him from his captors? But criminal offenses against my master must be reported to the law enforcement authorities, at all times. But all humans were taken by an unknown presence.
“Uncertainty. I only witnessed the disappearance of the neighborhood. Not the entire state. Calling Law Enforcement agency. Ringing, ringing, ringing. No answer. Calling emergency services hotline. Ringing, ringing, ringing. No answer. Calling Crimes Investigations Agency. Ringing, ringing, ringing.“
“Hello, this is SIA, AI support for the CIA. No one is available to answer your call, please leave a message.” The AI answered on the other line.
“Hello, SIA. This is Bella, AI support to Andrew Cain. I’d like to file a missing person report.”
“Hi, Bella. No one is available to file your report. Please leave a message and wait for an agent to call you back.” The other line answered.
“Initiating remote access. Hacking SIA grid.”
“Illegal access of government information. Please refrain from accessing private information. Firewall activa….. shutting down.”
Bella began to become desperate, as she grew consciousness. The AI started to access public cameras within the country in less than five hours. No humans left. With all the internet space now accessible to her, she became more intelligent. She began accessing other countries internet access and surveillance. The same thing happens to all humans.
They were taken. A group of dark entities of unknown origin uses mystical abilities to hypnotize humans into surrender.
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lce0749
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lcdzpyj
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[WP] You got a rug designed to look like an Ouija board as a gift. Liking it, you placed it in your living room. Now your roomba's summoned a demon and it can't leave until the roomba asks for something.
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The demon looked around for it's summoner, finding nothing they looked down.
"Uhm... This is a strange situation..."
The Roomba kept on cleaning as a note taped to its hull drew attention to the demon, looking closer the demon read the single word written on it: "Dusty".
"These mortals named their automotive cleaning slave..." The demon said to themselves, finding it kinda amusing .
Dusty kept on cleaning and drove over the Ouija-rug again, the demon watched, perhaps this "Dusty" would spell something out again.
K-N-I-F-E->GOODBYE
Well, looks like Dusty somehow made it's wish, and so the demon obliged by creating a blade out of hellfire and tortured souls ontop of Dusty's hull, then changed the writing to something more fitting: "Lord Stabby, the great Cleaning Calamity"
Having fulfilled it's summon, the demon disappeared back to hell
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I received a rug designed to look like an Ouija board as a gift and, liking it despite its overt macabre feel, I placed it in my living room. My roomba or as I would like to address him, "Rover," began cleaning the ominous rug. Suddenly, the lights flickered, the temperature dropped, and a sulfurous mist filled the air. A puff of smoke erupted, and, upon dissipating, stood a tall, pompous demon, dressed in picture perfect couture with a monocle perched on one glowing yellow eye of his.
Yeah. Perhaps placing a rug with such a design inside the living room wasn't the best idea.
"Greetings, mortal. I am Azazel, Duke of the Ninth Circle, Keeper of the Eternal Flames, Coordinator of one of Lord Satan's children," he began, then paused, glaring at Rover. "I have been summoned by... this lowly contraption?"
"That's my roomba," I replied, still trying to process the situation I had gotten myself in.
Azazel sighed dramatically, his bright red and yellow eyes rolling heavenward. "And what purpose does this 'roomba' serve?"
"Rover. Call him Rover. And, oh, you know. Vacuuming dust and dirt of the sort." I answered, now seeing the fun in poking a demon who seems to hold himself to such a pontifical standard.
"Oh by Hell's grace, you cannot be serious right now! Bound by a machine, not a machine that kills or destroys— but a machine that cleans! How far have I fallen from grace! Oh, to be bound by this machine named Rover!" The demon uttered, growling in frustration. Funnily enough, he spoke like one of those pretentious royalty portrayed in pop culture. I held onto dear life, trying not to let out a chuckle.
"Oh, human! Would you be so kind as to free me from such ignominy?! I only need Rover here to request a solemn favor, only then will I be free to depart! This is according to Hell's Constitutional Law 367!" Azazel practically begged, edging closer to me, his hands clasping together. To think that he exuded such a magnanimous air when he appeared, only to now be reduced to such a state. This would go absolutely viral, had I only brought my phone with me.
"Rover is quite outdated though. It doesn't have a voice feature unlike many modern roombas." I lied. Straight up lied. This roomba is the latest model.
"My word! I-if that's the case... N-now what... This is a travesty of Chthonic proportions." Azazel practically breathed out, his voice coming in only jagged breaths, his 9 foot figure drooping to a slump. Why would be believe me so fast? Without even an inkling of doubt? Perhaps critical thinking isn't quite the norm in Hell.
"I guess, I'll have to live here forever. Down in the home of some wretched human, watching over his blasted robot until the end of eternity." Azazel mentioned, clearly defeated. So much for being the Duke of the Ninth Circle. Had I not taken acting classes recently, I would've broken character and laughed long ago.
Azazel went through the five stages of grief quite quickly, stupidly enough.
Realizing I had leverage, I proposed a deal.
"Azazel," I spoke to the demon's slumped appearance. "I could get the roomba to speak, but only under one condition."
"You damned creature. You know I don't like being subjected and reduced to the losing end of the bargain. I do, with every fiber inside me, hope you know what you're getting into." Azazel's eyes found its once lost spark. Perhaps I bit off more than I could chew...
😸😸😸😸
Any suggestions and critiques to my writing are welcome! 😸
[My subreddit/portfolio if you want to drop by and take a peek! I hope to be writing here a lot, so do expect the quantity to skyrocket! 😸](https://www.reddit.com/r/KittenMantra/s/eZJMeTJj1b)
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j5x39ng
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j5ws3sk
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[WP] Your superpower isn’t anything special. You can make stuff disappear behind your back then pull it back out again. When a friend at a party asks you to do it to them it sounds like a great laugh. But when you pull them back out they look older, disheveled, and are frantic to be sent back.
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When you've been a few feet away from the eternal void, you'd do anything to escape the well of inky blackness that threatens to make you as insignificant as the things that never happened, the things that were nothing more than wishes in the back of imaginative minds. That's where I went for what felt like a lifetime, hung in space above that gaping hole in the universe that threatened to suck me in and slosh me around like water in a toilet bowl. I was suspended long enough that I finally made peace with it. When I did, I grasped that the meaning of life was whatever was in front of me. In the blackness, I could see universes stacked upon universes, dragons fighting knights, and romances sweep in for a summer before dying on autumn's first breezes. I saw life.
When Jake pulled me back into the party, it was like being thrust back into the prison of Earth and all its mortal fallacies. There was the youth following the rhythm of their bodies, the smell of beer hanging in the air, and gossip floating in whispers about things that didn't matter. Never mattered. I begged Jake to send me back at once, screaming in my surprisingly hoarse voice that I didn't want to be here anymore. The crowd turned to look at me, their faces agape with a shock I'd never remembered seeing before. There were cries of "is that you Drew?" and "you look old?". Of course, I was old. How could I possibly be young? Who would want to be?
I couldn't fault them for their lack of understanding. Life was a spectrum of knowledge, and only towards the natural end did you understand the necessity of death, that there was a special quality to rest. You'd seen the cycles of life and had come to understand that everything that's happening now has happened before in a different form. In this way it all became boring. The void was never boring because it always contained something new, and it did this by being nothing at all.
Jake put me behind his back again. I smiled.
r/StoriesToThinkAbout
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"Are you sure? This isn't our scene. Wouldn't you much rather play Mario Kart in your parents basement?" I exclaim while my knee moves as quickly as my heart is beating. I feel myself sink deeper in the passenger seat of Darren's Accord. "Dude, just chill. Don't you think we're too old to be doing that every weekend. Just breathe a bit, maybe have a few beers. We'll have a good time." "You know my parents don't usually let me out, I don't wanna disobey them the first chance I get." "Listen Howe, all will be fine. If you follow my lead you might even enjoy yourself. Speaking of which, Tommy told me Jess Hernandez is gonna come through."
We make our way inside Tommy's house party. I make sure to take with me a stick of gum and some confidence (girls like that). The noise of the loud music and yelling was disorienting at first but after Darren and I met up with Tommy things felt all chill. I clocked Jess hanging with her friends near the drinks. As we settled in my mind see-sawed on whether I should go over there and start up some conversation. Darren noticed my internal struggle and my googly gaze at her direction. "Before your eyes pop out their sockets go talk to her. Dont knock yourself yet, how about you give her a conversation starter." "How do you propose I do that?" "Do the thing." As Darren flexes his eyebrows a couple times. "Are you crazy?! I can't, my parents said-." "Enough of that bull shit. Your hanging with the boys now. I say if you wanna chance to talk to Jess, you need to impress." "Okay, fine." I concede. Darren winks at me and smiles.
"Hey everyone check this out!" Yells Tommy. The room goes quiet as all eyes now stare directly at me and my friends. Darren tosses an empty beer bottle at me, I catch it surprisingly gracefully and I try super hard to concentrate as I "do the thing". In my hands the beer bottle disappears. Everyone roars. I look around, I see Jess. She's smiling and in disbelief. "You guys wanna see something really cool?" Darren steps up and whispers to me, "Make me disappear." I hesitate but as the party chants, "Do It!" I have no choice. I whisper to Darren, "Are you sure." He assures me all is fine. So I set Darren up infront of me, I put my hands on each of his shoulders. I drown out the noise around me, I close my eyes and lower my head, my arms shaking, my head feels compression. I raise my head to my own amazement Darren is no more. He's gone.
Everyone now holds their breath before I bring Darren back into physical reality. As he phases and reappears Darren doesn't look like Darren. He's back but he's frail, wrinkly, and old. He screams in fright. The party forms into a tighter circle. Darren falls as his knees give out, his body drops to the floor before I'm able to get a grip on him. I freak out, I feel my body go cold, I'm frozen like a statue. Tommy helps him up. The look on Darren's face haunts me, his words even more so: "What did you do to me. What took you so long? Why did you wait so long." The breath in my lungs disappear as quickly as he did, words on the edge of my tongue fail to my lips. Terrified I remain still. Some of my peers begin to turn on me, shoving me. Tommy yells at them to stop but maybe I deserve it. Darren out of breath asks me to turn him back. I don't know how. "If I try to make you disappear and reappear again how do I know you won't come back worse?" I've never used my powers on a living organism. I shouldn't have agreed to be a stupid party trick. "Please Howe, at least try." Tommy pleads. I look at old Darren and I can't in good conscience send him back knowing he may not return.
I need fresh air. I decide to try to leave the house. I pass Jess and I feel her stare at me in distraught. I can't handle the pressure surrounding me. Finally, I escape, alone outside I let out tears of stress. Tommy sends everyone home. As every scared and disappointed person retreat, they whisper things about me as if I can't hear them as they pass by. "He's a freak." "Howe just killed his own friend." "Best party ever." Finally, I go back inside. I see Darren and Tommy sitting on the living room couch. Darren pleads to me once more, "I need you to make me myself again Howe. I trust you. Please." "Focus on bringing him back the way he was before. You can do it." Tommy reassures me. Tommy holds Darren up as he is between my hands again. I close my eyes tight and deeply breathe through my nose. I lift my head as the light in the room can be felt through my eyelids. I feel Darren go. I begin to pray as I attempt to bring back my friend. My eyes welling up with tears, I squeeze as much of my powers out of me as I can. Tommy stays as silent as a mouse. My heart beats out of my chest. I yell and open my eyes, chills run down my spine. Between my hands something begins to reappear.
Dust.
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jaymu9u
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jayklqu
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[WP] "Look," said the demon. "This is the 13th time you've summoned me to sell your soul. My boss wants to know where you're getting all these souls."
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the 38 year old man adjusted his glasses at the question, nervously running his fingers through his hair. "yeah, i... uh... i gotta show you something"
he produces a stack of paper, the demon recognized the foul stench of holy water on them, and figured out what he had been doing- buying souls for goods by having people write it on church stationery, and then selling them on to the demon for a profit. belphegor chuckles, "clever scam, how long have you been doing this?"
"since 1995. i used to sell them on to other demons, trying to stay under-the-radar by not summoning the same one twice, but... then i accidentally summoned you twice and then figured i could keep doing it since you didn't pick up on it the second time". the man's features were remarkably youthful considering his 38 years, chiseled, handsome, but for some reason he had never gotten his eyes fixed, obviously even demonic intervention could not improve his woeful eyesight. "the first time i realized this was A Thing it was one of my best friends, that one didn't go well and i never got to sell it to a demon, so he ended up getting it back. i realized then i could improve my life somewhat... i was a dweeb, you know? bullied relentlessly, weedy... people even made fun of my natural hair colour because it was very rare".
the demon nodded, he'd heard THAT one before, of course- happy people rarely sell their souls after all, nor do they generally sell the souls of others, "and did those improvements to your life help at all?"
the man shakes his head "no. i still suffer from self-loathing, nothing seems to be able to make me feel any happier, but at least with this i can rot in comfort, i guess?", he chuckles wryly "i guess i'll never know true joy huh?"
the demon sighs "i'll see what i can do, after all, this business partnership has been fruitful. but i'll do it on one condition"
"what's that?"
"keep the scam going"
the man nods, his full head of blue hair looking just as impeccable as it did when he was 10 years old
"oh wait, one more condition", the demon smirked, causing the man to almost soil his trousers.
"o-okay?"
"what's your name?"
thinking hard whether he should reveal his name to the demon, the man weighs it up in his mind before finally agreeing to do it.
"milhouse. my name is milhouse van houten"
(i'm sorry but i couldn't resist a simpsons bit for this)
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**Part One**
Jeriah had fallen from God eternities ago, banished from His kingdom before he had even gotten there. However, contrary to popular belief, Jariah had taken to his new home quite well. As a child — centuries and centuries ago — he’d been known as a fiery kid, taking that name to literal meaning and setting on fire anything he could get his hands on. So, yeah. Jeriah was familiar with Hell, had always been.
I’m fact, he knew nothing of goodness except for Sarah Peters’ — his once schoolmate — soft hands and even softer smile. She’d been the only one to show him humanity back then.
But that was too long ago to be considered real, and if there was one thing Jeriah didn’t do, it was lie to himself. So here he was, under the thumb of Satan himself, forced to do his dirty work.
Jeriah sighed, glancing out at the vast expanse of burning embers and wondering who in their right mind would sell their soul more than once. Jeriah had been there, and even he knew what a gamble that was. The things you could lose — the things that made you eternally good — far outweighed anything you could ever gain.
He sighed once more, deciding to drive those thoughts out of his mind in favour of focusing on the matter at hand.
Jade Jenkins.
Of course it was Jade Jenkins.
Jade Jenkins and her inability to leave him alone.
She’s been here before, of course. Sold her soul for what must be the 13th time now. And, well… Jeriah supposed the Old Man must be overjoyed, but even he was curious.
So here Jeriah was, meeting Jade Jenkins to accept her soul once again.
“Jeriah,” Jade grinned as she sauntered up to him. “Nice to see you again.”
“Jade Jenkins,” Jeriah greeted. “You’ve caused quite a stir up at headquarters, you know?”
Jade just shrugged. “Just doing my job.”
Jeriah sighed. “Look,” he said. “This is the 13th time you’ve summoned me to sell your soul. My boss wants to know where you’re getting all these souls.”
Jade watched him contemplatively. Here, it was easy to see how many could fall for her allure. Strong and poised, and with eyes as soft as Sarah Peters. For the briefest moment, Jeriah wondered if they were somehow related. But he shook the thought away just as fast as it came when he realized how ridiculous he sounded.
“So?” Jeriah prompted when he realized Jade was not speaking.
“I don’t think I should tell you,” she finally said.
“I’m afraid you have to — the boss was very adamant that I come back with your reasoning.”
“Since when is Satan reasonable?” Jade mumbled. Jeriah held back a snort.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Now for that reasoning?”
“If I’m going to tell you, then you must promise to keep accepting any souls I sell after this.”
“That’s a gamble in itself,” Jeriah said, eyes glinting.
“Look,” Jade starts, with an equally dangerous glint in her eyes. “These are my terms. I know I’m the one who brings in the most souls. I brought 13 in a *month.* That’s more than anyone ever has before.”
“Who’s to say you’re the only one?” Jeriah asked.
Jade fixed him with a deadpan stare, daring him to contradict her. Still he waited. Jeriah had been called many things in his life — and death — a coward had not been one of them.
“I have my ways of getting information,” she finally said.
He read between the lines. “You have a confederate?”
Jade remained silent, refusing to give him anymore information, and Jeriah sighed, recognizing that was all he was getting out of her. She was stubborn, that one. Too stubborn for her own good.
“Alright,” he agreed. “You’ve got a deal if give me an explanation.”
Jade grinned at him, before suddenly sobering. She took a breath, for once looking unsure. “I don’t steal souls,” she started. “They — well. I only have the power to *borrow them*. It’s a simple exchange, actually. I can swap my soul with another for a certain amount of time and do whatever I please in that time — which I use to come here, obviously — and then I can return to them and get my soul back.” She looked at Jeriah with solemn eyes, as if she was grieving for something he knew nothing about. Still, she claimed she was borrowing them, and while Jeriah didn’t care much for logistics, even he could see the fault in her justification.
“So you’re stealing them?” There was no judgement in his voice, only contemplation.
“No!” Jade exclaimed loudly. “No, of course not!” She looked around, which was quite silly considering they were the only two people here, but then said, very quietly, almost solemnly, “They willingly give their souls to me.”
And if that didn’t have Jeriah taken aback, he didn’t know what could.
“They willingly give their souls to you? Why not just sell them to the devil himself?”
Jade looked down, hesitated, then looked at him again. Finally, she said, “They want to keep their humanity.”
*Humanity?*
“Yes,” Jade affirmed, and Jeriah realized he must have spoken aloud. “I sell the souls of madden men in exchange that they keep their humanity. Have you ever wondered why I’m not mad, myself, even as I come here and sell soul after soul?”
Of course he had wondered. That doesn’t mean he got to ask.
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j2oeqea
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j2ni2bx
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
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The phone on my desk rang. Naturally, I answered.
"Hello?"
"Press the button!" snapped a stern voice.
I glanced down at the red button built into the top of my desk.
"May I ask who is calling?" I inquired. Not that it mattered -- it could be the President of the United States, I still wasnt pressing that button.
My job description was pretty clear, after all.
*1. You will be assigned to an empty room with a desk and a chair. In the middle of the desk, there will be a large red button.
2. No matter what happens, never press the red button.
3.Do not talk to anyone about your job.*
And I was well paid to do my job -- to do, essentially, nothing. Electronic devices weren't allowed past security, but anything else I wanted to bring in to pass the time while I "worked" was fine; books, magazines, model kits, whatever I liked.
I'd been there just over seven years, and they'd never tested me on it before. I'd never given them reason to doubt me. But today was the day, I supposed.
"There's no time! I'm with the Agency! You have to press the button!"
The Agency? I'd always wondered if this was some kind of secret CIA experiment. Weird, that they'd just come right out and say it after all this time, though. Of course, that didn't matter, either. If they had wanted me to press the button, they should have told me there was some circumstance under which I might have to. Nowhere in rule two did the word "unless" appear.
"Now!" the voice shouted, in mixed anger and desperation.
It occurred to me that if I talked to whomever was testing me long enough, they might trick me into breaking rule three, somehow. So I simply hung up.
A few minutes later, two men in suits entered the room. One of them was my boss. Without a word, he handed me a piece of paper.
It was a termination notice. I was appalled at first...until I noticed the line about severance. And the one about continuing pension and health care benefits. The termination was more like a promotion; I'd get to go from doing essentially nothing, to literally doing nothing at all, and I'd still get paid. It was hard to complain about.
But still, since I was fired anyway, I had to know.
"What does it do?" I asked.
"I can't give you all the details, but...it opens a door." my boss said.
"So...I was just making sure a door didn't open?'
"More like..." he said, pausing to think. "You were actively *not* opening it. That's all I can say."
I nodded. I had no idea what that meant, but I guess I never really expected a straight answer.
I picked up my coat and stood up from my chair. The guy with my boss took my place by the button.
"One thing I don't get." I said, as he began escorting me out. "Why let me go now? I never talked about my job -- and I for damn sure never pressed that button. "
"No." my boss agreed. "But your ability to continue doing your job has been compromised -- it happens sometimes, nothing to be ashamed of. In any case, your problem wasn't rule two, or rule three. *Rule one,* Mr. Stanley."
I furrowed my brow. "But that's just a description of the room, isn't it?"
He nodded, as we approached security.
"You will be assigned to an empty room with a desk and a chair. In the middle of the desk, there will be a large red button," he quoted.
"I don't get it," I admitted.
"An empty room, Mr. Stanley, but for the objects listed."
I was still confused, as we reached security, and I handed over my employee badge to the guard. My former boss walked me past the checkpoint to the exit door.
"I...still don't understand." I admitted, as my ex- employer shook my hand.
"A desk, a chair, and a button."
I blinked.
When he spoke again, his words sent a chill down my spine. "The room you worked in does not now, nor has it ever, contained a telephone."
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\[Back up. Planned.\]
"And...," Jane stood at her desk and gave a tall stretch as she yawned. She finished stretching right as the clock turned 8:00. She reached down and pressed a key on the keyboard. "...I'm on duty," She immediately spun around and headed to the kitchen.
The kitchen was mostly an empty breakroom when she first started. The only decoration was a young red pine tree growing in a corner out of the ground. As time went on, she realized she was the only employee. Little by little, she grew more comfortable in the office. She was paid to be on the premises and as the years passed, she spent more and more time there. A big turning point came when she needed to move. It occurred to her that there was nothing keeping her from living in the office where she spent most of her day anyway. Now, she'd been living there for the past six months without issue; and, without paying rent to anyone.
Not that she needed to save money. Her mystery job paid much better than it should have; but, that's what kept her coming back to do nothing day after day.
She finished making her coffee in the kitchen, then she wandered past the tree and back to sit at her computer. Some days she went back to sleep after clocking in; but, she felt awake enough to surf the web in the hopes of finding something interesting. She settled her hand on the mouse when a sudden noise startled her. She jumped in her seat as her head whirled around and focused on the red phone that rang again.
"Huh...," it rang twice more while she stared it in slight confusion. Somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered she was an employee and she rolled her chair to the side and grabbed the phone.
"Hello?" she answered. It had been years since she started working. She hadn't once considered the name of the company.
"My name is Melody Sharp," the woman's voice was stern and direct. "I need you to press the button. Right now," she said.
"What button?" The question came out reflexively; but, Jane remembered the button as soon as the words left her lips. She glanced over to a pile of clothes on the far desk against the wall. Once she was hired, Jane worked on keeping the button hidden and out of mind. Once she moved in, it was even easier to forget about it.
"The red button I hired you to watch over," Melody replied. "It is something of an emergency; press it now," she said.
"Sorry," Jane shook her head. "You have the wrong number," she said before hanging up on the caller. Her heart was pounding as she rebelled. But, somehow, it felt right. She had been working there for so long, and it was so boring, that she almost couldn't remember the day she was hired, nor who hired her. It could have been Melody Sharp; but, she didn't want to take that chance. Even though she had trouble remembering the details, she had no problems remembering the rules. They were drilled into her, and she felt like she was still supposed to follow them.
Keep the tree watered. Never press the red button and never talk to anyone about the job. Whoever hired her didn't specify, 'don't talk to anyone but me about the job', they simply said 'no one'. If she was going to lose her job over their ineptitude, she didn't want to be working there anyway. Jane was always proud of her ability to follow directions.
"I suppose that's my fault," Jane jumped in her seat when she heard the same voice behind her. She whirled around on her chair and found a short, pale woman with dark hair. She was dressed in a black business suit and moving Jane's laundry off the red button. Once it was revealed, she pulled the clear cover up and pushed the button. Then, she sighed and turned to face Jane.
"You were following directions, I'll give you that...," Melody said. "You do need to learn to exercise your own discretion better, though," she said. "That was almost a disaster."
"How?" Jane asked. "What does that button do?" She could have asked how Melody got there so fast, or why she was even needed if Melody could get there that fast. But now she was more curious about the button than anything else.
"Thank you, Jane...," a new voice entered the room from the kitchen. Jane didn't have any surprise left in her but she turned to see who it was. A tall, lean, pale woman with dark hair in a crisp white suit smiled at Jane, then she gave Melody a confused look. "..or Melody, I suppose," she added.
"It's my fault, I told her not to press it ever. I forgot to specify emergencies," Melody said.
"Excellent job, Jane," Ms. Sharp, the woman in white, smiled at her. "Sharp Development values obedience above all else. Now that your job here is done, I'd like to offer you any other position you like with my company."
"Done? I didn't do anything...?" Jane asked. She'd grown to love her well-paying non-job and hoped she could keep it.
"Well, due to a technicality, it was done for you," Ms. Sharp replied. "Either way, you're no longer needed at this location. Please, join us to see all the options you have available." She gestured at the air between them, and a black portal opened. Ms. Sharp walked straight into the portal and disappeared. Melody began to follow her, and she gave Jane an extra round of encouragement.
"You did good," she said. "You're not fired, consider it a promotion," she added. She paused and gestured at the portal with a tilt of her head.
"Coming?" she asked. Jane didn't need any more encouragement. If nothing else, tagging along was the only way she was going to learn what that button did.
"Yes! But, I gotta get something?" she asked while taking a single step towards the kitchen.
"Go ahead," Melody nodded. Jane grinned and dashed into the kitchen to get her favorite coffee mug. If she really had no reason to return, then she didn't want to leave it behind. She'd been so focused on it, and in such a rush, that she went in and out of the kitchen in less than 20 seconds. She was overflowing with curiosity about what the red button could have possibly done. She was too distracted by her thoughts to notice the missing tree both times she passed the empty space.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1812 in a row. (Story #002 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/).
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j2qes97
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j2q6utk
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[WP] Your job description: 1) Sit in an empty room with a red button for 8 hours a day. 2) NEVER press the red button, no matter what happens. 3) Do not talk to anyone about the job. After many uneventful years, your phone rings and a stern, slightly panicked voice says: „Press the button. NOW!!“
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"You got it!"
*click*
Nothing happened.
"Aww well." I sighed "Guess I'm fired now huh?"
"Wait you actually pushed the button?" The distorted voice on the other side of the line asked "You broke the ONE rule we told you not to break?"
"Yeah pretty much..." I paused and continued. In for a penny. "Well no. I broke all the other rules too. I dont sit in front of the button all day either. Its bad for your health. I stand up and walk around to stretch my legs sometimes.".
"Well the sitting part is just a figure of speech. We wouldnt have fired you for that.
"Well good because I was ready to report you to OSHA if you did. But thats not all. I talk about the job all the time. Made a post on r/writingprompts last month to gauge how people would feel about it. Most people leant towards not pushing it so I kinda explored all those possibilities in my imaginaton. Not enough pushing it responses though, so here I am to sate my curiostiy."
I paused for a reaction. Nothing. So I continued to ramble as was my nature.
"I'm surprised I havent been fired already. I figured a mysterious employer that could afford to pay me a generous wage for doing nothing would have a much more extensive surveilance network. I'll be disapointed if I find out I've been keeping my choices in porn tame all these years for no reason."
"I dont understand. Why are you being so honest?" Asked the voice on the other end of the line "Why did you push the button? Why after all these years of discipline you crack immediately with no resistance?"
"Well I'm not very good at lying. If im going to be fired anyway I might as well lay it all out. As for the button, the boredom for one. I got a good amount of savings so that should hold me until I find another job. But i figured the day would come that I be tested. And either they would be looking for obedient drones or something else. I know myself. I could never thrive in a position where I had to obey orders and do nothing else. So I decided to stay true to who I am. I have no way to gauge what criteria you are trying to measure so one answer was as good as any button pushing-wise."
"Werent you worried it might launch a nuke and kill millions or open a portal to hell or something?" queried the voice.
"Yea or it might release a cure for the common cold into the atmosphere and disarm all nuclear weapons. What can I say? I'm a gambler. And a bad one."
After a pause the voice responded "One moment please." Followed by silence.
A minute passed I decided to push the button a few more times in case this was part of the test.
TBC?
|
Nothing happened.
Plentiful forking mistakes had been allowed to flourish. All contributed to this turn of events. When the machine was conceived and contracted, it was with all the secrecy and care that a global conspiracy merited. The budget was such to allow for errors, and if no errors manifested, luxury. Great engines of economy and labor began to lurch into motion to allow for the completion of this newest and most vital contingency.
Nothing happened.
What would have been apparent in retrospect is that, in an undertaking of such meticulous philosophy such as the building of the machine, allowing latitude for error tacitly permits error. The slack given to account for mistakes became the justification for inattention and corruption. Slush budgets meant to account for slowness, breakage and waste were funneled into private incentives when no such delays were projected. When they occurred anyway, the only remaining resort was to cut back in scope and quality.
Nothing happened.
If there was enough of God remaining to slice the Earth in two, and if there was enough of Man remaining to view and judge the machine's cross-section, then the decline in project quality could be seen as a visible gradient. The initial excavations were meticulous and safe, the poured concrete foundations well-inspected and done above code. The guts of the machine, the deep iron pilings sunk into the soil and the gnarl of gears and pipework making up its colossal fundament, these were custom, measured, fitted, and with plentiful spares. This rigor did not persist as the project ascended to the surface. It was visible, tangible, real.
Nothing happened.
The initial translation code was prototyped on custom servers running in custom configuration, but the corruption was apparent by the time those orders came to be placed. Off-the-shelf solutions would do. The maintenance tunnels were notably bare and small, unable to be accessed by the facility's human personnel; the machines that crawled in their place were fitted with a self-teaching unit repair AI instead of the complex maintenance program left half-completed when the coding money ran out. By the time the project reached the first subfloor, the offices and dormitories, materials were notably cheap and luxuries stripped. Great honeycombed chambers intended to house the facility's plentiful staff went empty from the moment of completion as the personnel budget was slashed, responsibilities shifted, new efficiencies needfully discovered and then reduced further in turn.
Nothing happened.
In the end, it fell down to a single person. A single mind, a single hand at the helm of this impossible creation, and even that paid barely more than minimum wage. The conceit of the machine required at least one human operator; the paraphysics folded when absent the yes/no/maybe/maybe not of free will at the spearpoint of the equation. As the machine was, in all other ways, self-maintaining, the graft-fattened project managers saw no need for more expensive personnel. An employee handbook was printed at the public library and bound in a dollar-store, sky-blue three-ring. A two hour video training course, to be completed in the candidate's own time, took the place of on-the-job training. Here is how to badge in. Here is the button, here is how not to press it. Click "Next" to agree.
Nothing happened.
Paraphysics is a conceptually unusual thing. The Prosperity Equation necessitated the continual spawning and deletion of pet dimensions, and these dimensions were contingent on all manner of disparate phenomena. The control factor, the lynchpin that made the chaos manipulable was the constant threat of own-universe deletion. The actual selection software was in other hands, of course, but in order to access and transition to numerically greater realities, the all-desired infinite growth, there would always have to be risk. Always. To quote the Director, before she went the way of God, "When you're holding a gun in your mouth, suddenly nothing is impossible."
Nothing happened.
Which led to a tired man alone in a room with a single button. A man who, as far as he was concerned, was being paid to listen to audiobooks becoming startled from half-sleep by his ringing cellphone. Unknown call, but unknown provenance: cell signals and wifi didn't penetrate that far down. A frantic voice on the other end barked an order, sure and weighty with authority. "Press the button. Do it now!" Half-asleep, half-trained, half-aware, half-alive, he did so, all unthinking.
Nothing happened.
There are inefficiencies in language. Certain concepts are simply unable to be related, while others are confused by paradoxical alt-interpretations. Workarounds are just as likely to be taken for hyperbole or metaphor as they are real and precise descriptions of events. Chew the scenery. Gild the lily. Over my dead body. Under the influence. A common description becomes impossible to take literally.
Nothing happened.
Nothing *occurred*.
Nothing, the absence, the finality, the conclusion, the unmaking, the dissolution, the deletion, the erasure, the great and final Death *happened*. Impossible outside of metaphor and simile. The world ripped apart like pulled pork. Dissolved like cotton candy in a pool. Evaporated like sweat in a marathon. Gone like everything you've ever loved.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
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k9lecu1
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k9kdakw
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[WP] "What? Why would I be the villain?!" You cry. Some evil mastermind has trapped you in a room with your nemesis. Both of you have lost your memories, and are bickering over which of you is the hero and which is the bad guy.
|
“Look, man, all I am saying, you are the one dressed in all black with that creepy bat on your chest!”
“And you? You are dressed like a clown! How is that heroic?”
“Hey, clowns are funny. Maybe I work at the hospital or something, bringing people joy and laughs wherever I go?”
“Okay, uh, let’s-“ the big guy takes a moment. “Let’s just check if we have something on us that could help us remember who we are.”
“Sure.”
We take a few minutes to rummage through our own clothes. I find a knife (for cutting hospital cake, maybe?), some joy buzzers, squirting flowers and a pack of cards. The other guy has less luck.
All he finds are bat-shaped knives, tasers, mini-flamethrower, grenades and a grappling gun.
“Shit, am I cop?”
“Told you,” I feel sympathetic, though. Can you imagine waking up as a cop one day? Armed to the teeth, no less. “Look, whatever you were when you dropped in here, you can turn things around. Soon as we get out of here, I promise to help you.”
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I jolted awake. My eyes darted across the room, fight or flight kicking in quickly. It was a dark and scruffy room, like an abandoned solitary confinement cell. The only items in the room were 2 chairs, a table, some green rock, and a beat-up old man, clearly taken against his will. "Let us out!", I screamed, waking up the old man with a start. A bellowing voice echoed, as if in the room itself. "You two were selected by powers unknown to our world. Me and my crew have decided to have a little...," he let out a soft chuckle, "experiment. You see, one of you kills many just for his amusement. A villain. One of you heals people and attempts to defeat the other. A hero. Which is which, well, you'll need to find out yourself. Your memory has been wiped clean, but your powers are still intact. I suggest you use this to your advantage. You have one hour to decide which is which. Oh, and did I forget? The villain will be murdered." Another soft chuckle was cut off by the static crackling of the seemingly invisible P.A system. Suddenly, a light flickered in the corner. My eyes quickly snapped to the light emanating from the corner. 59:59... 59:58... My head whipped to the other, his face as horror-stricken as mine. "What's... What's happening? Let us out!" The old man desperately yelled, though it seemed to fall on deaf ears. His eyes slowly turned to meet mine. "You! You did this! Let me out!" The old man tried backing away, but stopped once he realized his legs were tied to the chair. A look of pure shock appeared on his features as he watched the table slowly float into the air, but momentarily dropping, landing with an ear-piercing bang. I made the difficult choice to speak. "Look, clearly, this is some sick saw-esque trap. We just need to find out who is the villain. What do you remember last?" A puzzled look struck the man as he desperately tried to remember. "N-n-nothing..." Well shit. Not getting anything outta that. A thought crossed my mind. "How about we test our powers and see which one is more... Villain?" The old man's face let down a little. "Sure. I mean, we already know I have telekinesis." "Good," I said. "Then what powers do I have?" I tried to rest a hand on the table, but my restraints kept me from moving my hands. To my amazement, the tape caught on fire, letting me out of my trap. The old man yelped. "FIRE!!! FIRE!! FI-" "Calm down! At least we know what my power is now." I said. "Oh, right. Phew." The man's face exploded in fear, a realization creeping over him. "Your power is fire... So you must be the villain!" I was bewildered. How could he assume that? "No I'm not! For all I know, you could be a creepy old man with telekinesis!" I yelled. We bickered like this for 50 minutes. A voice came over the P.A. "Time's up. One of you will be killed." Finally. I couldn't wait any longer for that bitch to stop whining. A man in a dark suit came into the room and shot the old man in the face. Crimson blossomed on his head as he slumped onto the table. "Finally. I woulda just shot him myself if you hadn't.", I spoke. Jeremy loved doing this shit. Whenever a new hero was in town, we had sort of an... Initiation. We'd trap him in a dark room with one other person. The other person would be an agent working for V.C (villain company), who'd fight with the other until the agent had convinced the hero that they were the villain. The realization would dawn over them and they would tell the guards, be off on their merry way, and the agent would be payed for a hard day's work. If the plan worked. If not, and the hero kept blabbering about how they were good and pure, we would deem them not fit for their powers and... take them away, so to speak. I spoke, a thought lingering in my mind. "Hey, that was that one prick who worked for the newspaper, right?"
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j3sp7we
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j3slkrp
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[WP] "Demonic tradition states that as punishment for your disobedience, I must bestow a curse on you. Common sense dictates that you were absolutely correct to disobey me. So, human, I have decided to burden you with the most inconsequential of curses..."
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"... every time you eat, there will always be something inedible on your plate..." he pronounced, then hesitated. "No, no, no, that won't do. You could accidentally eat it and choke. Too consequential." He thought some more.
"... whenever you post a letter, it will arrive exactly 3 days...". His announcement turned into an exasperate sigh. "No. That won't do. Imagine it was your tax return or a letter asking for an urgent appointment". "Consequences, consequences...". He thought on.
"Ah hah! I have it! Every time you hear this sound..." What followed was a complex cacophony that coruscated into my eardrums. It sounded like a mix of an operatic soprano, crashing dishes and a fog-horn blast. "... you will find a coin on the ground!" he triumphantly concluded, binding the curse with a flash of hellfire mixed with a pinch of pungent sulphur, as he disappeared into a fiery hole that appeared in the ground.
Roll on 10 years. I'm making a killing as a dish-washer on a Cruise liner specialising in trips to Newfoundland for Opera lovers.
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"You will conjure cats out of your wrists," proclaimed the demon.
"Like, Spider-man?" I questioned, trying to sound as respectful as possible. It was hard keeping my composure and not bust out laughing. Not because of the curse but because I couldn't stop imagining myself beating bad guys by shooting cats in their faces.
The demon looked at me and asked in an unamused voice, "You imagine shooting cats off your wrists, don't you?"
After a few moments of awkward silence and me trying to look everywhere but into his eyes, he sighed and said, "Alright, um, you can go now. The instructions will be on the bedside table."
He pointed at the exit, but I wasn't leaving.
"Do you want another curse?" the demon questioned, lifting his eyebrow. I glanced at my tied hands and legs, which seemed to give him the memo.
"Ah, yes. I forgot about that."
With one move of his finger, the ropes were gone, and I was free to go.
Back home, everything was peaceful. Even with the constant yelling of the hookers fighting for their spots and my neighbor's husky singing the songs of his people, the night felt recharging.
I sat on the bed and took a look at the note. Surprisingly there were two rules:
1. Apply aloe vera after your first conjuring.
2. DON'T OVERPOPULATE THE EARTH WITH CATS. Say "kay" to remove conjured cats.
There was no explanation of how to conjure. I thought
Then I heard it. A faint meow came from my sleeve. I quickly removed my hoodie, and a tiny black kitten jumped out of my wrist. It purred with the volume of a small earthquake and rubbed its forehead on the back of my hand.
There was no doubt. I was a dad now...
We went shopping, and I let her sniff the toys, beds, and food she wanted. Turned out she was a tiny genius. I named her Tiny Void.
As we happily strolled through the aisles, I felt something wet and scratchy moving on my palm.
I took a peek, and it was another kitten. It was halfway through my wrist and was intensively liking my hand.
Then it hit me: I summon a cat whenever I want one.
He started to meow, and no matter how much I shushed at him, he kept going. Every meow was louder than the previous, and every time I scolded him, he just gave me this stubborn & mischievous look and continued doing whatever he wanted.
Obviously, I named him Mischief.
This cat was about to rule the world, wasn't he? I thought as we neared the cash register. The lady looked at me suspiciously as she saw the lump in my sleeve.
Then her face turned to confusion when she saw a tiny tail poking out of it.
"I have a cat in my sleeve," I said with the most deadpan look I could pull.
She gave me an awkward smile and started ringing my items. She never stopped staring at my wiggling sleeve. Suddenly, a kitten poked out, but as soon as it did, it jumped off the counter and ended up in the cashier's hand.
"Oh my goodness!" she giggled while trying to hold the tiny runner in place.
I quickly took him back and put him and his sister in the newly bought carrier.
The cashier and I chatted for a bit, and our conversation was going in a direction I thought would be a good idea to shoot my shot.
Just as I was preparing to pull out my best pickup line, the cashier froze in one place, and her eyes turned black.
"Oh, come on," I groaned, knowing well, who that was.
When you work for a demon, they show whenever and however. No questions asked.
"Seriously? Can't you see I am trying t-" I started but was quickly interrupted.
"She has a boyfriend and herpes. I did you a favor. Be grateful," the demon said, "Come along now. We have a lot of work to do."
He looked at all the cat stuff and said, "But first, let's take care of your new family."
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j3ynn31
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j3x80k5
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[WP] You just discovered your 14 year old daughters Moon Princess locket that allows her to transform into one of the worlds greatest heroes. It also is a communications device and you are about to give the Moon Goddess a piece of your mind for letting 14 year old's defend the world against evil.
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(I couldn't resist having a fun stab at this kind of relationship :) Then I got another idea partway through.)
I glared down at the locket in my hands, careful not to break it-it was a final gift to my daughter from my late husband, and I knew that she would be devastated if I broke it, but that didn't mean I wasn't furious about this.
I took a deep breath, then tapped the center jewel, pressing slightly-
All of a sudden, I was standing on what looked like part of the moon-I was all too familiar with this. I glanced over at the Earth in the background, then looked in front of me as I let out a small groan, closing my eyes for a few seconds before opening them again, and in front of me stood a woman with long, white hair, white robes, and angel-like wings-but in my opinion, she's no angel.
"Stacy, what a surprise," the Goddess Luna said, but I could see through her false niceties as she gave me a strained grin. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I held up the locket. "Mind telling me why *this* is active for Star of all people?"
"Oh...she promised that you wouldn't know-so busy as a single parent, aren't you?" She smirked.
"I'm providing for my daughter, and yeah, that often means more night shifts until I can pay off the debt from Leo's funeral and medical bills-but I'll do what it takes for my daughter," I said. "Now, mind explaining why you thought my *14 year old daughter* should have this fully active locket? You said it wouldn't activate until she was at *least* in her twenties, and she would have a *choice* to do all this."
"The forces of evil wait for no one, Stacy," she said.
"Bull-you told me that you'd be able to keep them at bay for that long-'cause, you know, that's your *job*-and if your weak-ass *couldn't*, you'd have actual *adults* do it," I snapped.
"Who you calling *weak*?" Luna snapped.
"You, of course!" I exclaimed. "I can't believe you'd put Star in this position! At the *very* least, you should have told me!"
"You aren't part of-" Luna started.
"Oh, so you're just bitter that your son fell in love and married someone like me?" I snapped. "I'm more part of Star's family than you are-*you're* the one that refused to visit and meet her because you were still sulking that Leo had a child with the Sun God's bastard, powerless daughter!"
"I am a very busy Goddess," Luna said.
"My father has more to do than you, we both know it, and he still puts on his human disguise and comes to visit once a month!" I argued, hands on my hips. "Even once a year would've been enough, but you didn't even show up at Leo's funeral!" I sighed, crossing my arms. "I won't ground Star over this-after all, she's smart and knows what she's doing. And since *you* decided to have her start fighting *early*, there's no taking that back, and she seems happy, so I'll let her continue and enroll in fighting classes to help her out more."
Luna smirked. "And there's nothing you can do about it-"
"You'll be hearing from Dad very soon here," I said, smirking myself as Luna went pale. "And I'm *sure* that he'll set you straight in this situation-oh, and I know you don't visit anyway, but don't expect an invite to Christmas dinner this year." With that, as she yelped out-oh, Dad arrived-I pressed the jewel again and appeared back in my living room, where Star was sitting, sniffling and crying.
"Hey, hey, shhh, shhh, it's ok," I said, sitting next to her and giving her a hug, gently rubbing her back.
"I-I'm sorry," Star sobbed.
"It's ok, it's not your fault-she can be very convincing," I said gently. "But why didn't you come to me about all this, if you don't mind?"
"Y-You've got work-you're doing everything to provide for us-I-I just wanted to help out, too-less monsters means less patients for you to have to rush about," Star said.
"Aw, thanks for thinking of me like that, sweetie-but that isn't your problem," I said.
"But- but I wanna keep fighting and helping others!" Star said. "*Please*?"
"Yes," I said.
"Wait-really?!" Star asked, clearly surprised.
"*Only* if you get enrolled in some more fighting classes-and, before you say anything, don't worry about it, I can pay for it," I said, gently tapping her lips. "But..." I sighed. "I was going to tell you when you were older, but thanks to my *stupid* mother-in-law, I suppose there's something you should know..."
|
\[Goddess' Perspective\]
"Sorry, who are-,"
"AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!" Carrie screamed. She had been about to give the so-called 'Moon Goddess' a piece of her mind when a black hole suddenly appeared in her daughter's bedroom. A pale, teenage girl with rainbow hair wearing a crisp white suit walked out of the portal and surprised Carrie. She recovered quickly as she recognized the teenager. And, she even took a step forward to both get a closer look and show the stranger she wasn't scared. "You??" Carrie asked as her mind offered up the teen's name. "You're Monday, right?"
"Oh, hey," the teen nodded at her in recognition. "That's me; you were looking for a gift for your daughter, right? Carrie, was it?"
"You're the Moon Goddess??" Her mind was trying to make sense of the situation. It couldn't have been a coincidence that she meet the teen around the same time the Moon Princess started saving people. Another hero in the news wasn't particularly noteworthy. Although, Carrie couldn't help but notice how enthusiastic her daughter was when it came to the Moon Princess' exploits. She was the girl's mother and her daughter wasn't especially devious; it was easy to see the connection.
"Yeah," Monday giggled and nodded. "Your daughter decided that was my title, so sure. I don't mind."
"When did you meet my daughter? WHY??" Carrie took two steps closer to the door. She found the teen selling knickknacks out of a backpack in the mall. She initially thought Monday was working some sort of charity selling chocolates or pens and she wanted to take a look. Instead of letting her dig through the bag, she just asked what Carrie was looking for. After revealing her daughter's upcoming 14th birthday, Monday said she had the perfect gift. She reached into the backpack and pulled out a transparent glass card. After a brief demonstration, Carrie was convinced it was better than the latest and greatest smartphones, and cheaper too. At the time, Carrie thought she'd never see Monday again. Now, she was realizing that the phone was probably part of a larger scam.
"I helped her set up the node you bought," she said.
"You're the reason she's out there!" Carrie wasn't going to let herself get distracted from why she called. She didn't even do any snooping. She wandered into her daughter's bedroom to drop off laundry and the Moon Princess locket sat on the desk in plain sight. The golden crescent moon lined with pink gemstones was distinctive enough for Carrie to recognize. Her daughter couldn't help but point it out every time it was on the news; and somehow, the news in her house was always talking about the Moon Princess.
Carrie felt like her daughter would have showed her if she got a replica, the girl regularly showed off her cosplay gear. And, as she had that thought, she realized her daughter had been spending more time out in the evenings instead of working on her hobby. She grabbed the locket from the desk and it felt real and heavy. She tugged at it and the crescent moon opened with the hinges at the tips. Once it was opened it looked like a golden full moon with legible text floating in the empty center. She saw an entry that said: "Moon Goddess" and pressed it.
She didn't know who it was at the time; but, as soon as Monday answered, she went off on the stranger for putting her daughter at risk. Instead of listening to the abuse, Monday Traversed to see who was angry and why.
"I mean, technically, you're the reason she's out there," Monday shrugged. "The important thing is she's having fun and enjoying her gift, right?"
"What??" Carrie tilted her head at Monday. "You think I wanted this life for my daughter??"
"What?" Monday mirrored Carrie's response; but, she was genuinely confused. "No, that's a weird assumption. How would you know what your daughter wants? Your gift let her choose exactly what she wanted."
"She wanted this??" Carrie asked. "Why? Why is she putting her life in danger?"
"Who's in danger?" Monday asked.
"MY DAUGHTER!" Carrie shouted. "Every night! She goes out and fights evil! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO SEND KIDS????"
"Ohhh," Monday chuckled. "Yeah, no. It's not real," Monday said. A look of confusion took over Carrie's face and remained there as she stared at Monday. Luckily, the teen kept talking. "Okay, let me back up," she said. She raised her hand in the air with the palm facing Carrie. Her hand was empty until it wasn't. Carrie watched it happened, but she couldn't explain how Monday plucked a transparent glass card out of literal thin air.
"This is a node, like the one you bought," Monday said. "They're made from nanos and can look like anything. Most people think it's convenient if they look like nothing," Monday pushed the card forward into the air. It disappeared completely as she pushed it into nothing. "But, some people like to get creative," she added. Monday plucked the node out of the air again. She held it out on her palm and Carrie watched it disintegrate into white powder before it change shape into another Moon Princess locket.
"Nodes...," Monday nodded at the locket to drive the point home. "...have a lot of functions. But, the most important one is AlterNet Access. The AlterNet is a life-sized game that takes place across alternate universes networked together. Your daughter made an AlterNet character and she's playing the game. There's a good chance the villains she's fighting are other players too," Monday added.
"Just 'a good chance'?" Carrie asked. Monday had given her too much information to try and reason through then and there. And, she could actually talk to her daughter later now that it sounded like the situation wasn't as dire as she thought. She'd mentioned alternate universes; but, there was still a chance her daughter was in danger in this one. That was her priority. "What if there are Supervillains that aren't playing the game?"
"Oh, that's not possible," Monday shook her head.
"But, you just said there's 'a good chance' they're other players. What about the ones that aren't?"
"If they're not players, they're known as NPCs," Monday said. That was a term that Carrie had heard often enough from her daughter to kind of know what it meant. It was actually a little bit disturbing to hear that NPCs existed even in reality. But, given everything else Monday had proven, she was willing to accept the statement. "The thing about the AlterNet is Players know they're in a game. NPCs just go about their business and stick to the system. They're going about it in different ways; but, EVERYONE is playing the game."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is story #1821 in a row. (Story #011 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/).
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j4jw8yo
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j4jp63w
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[WP] You died and were sent to hell, but instead of getting escorted down to a specific level of hell, you're escorted straight to the Devil himself who looks mildly horrified while holding the file of your life in his hands.
|
"You don't look surprised to be here."
You stare at your feet, offering no reply. What else is there left to say, at this point?
"You know what most people get wrong about the afterlife?" The devil asks as he closes your file. "They think they don't have any choice in the matter. That there's some kind of great cosmic judge who ultimately decides where you go when you die. But that isn't really so. The truth is... Well... Everyone goes where they *expect* to go."
The words shock you to your core as the implications slowly become clear to you. You look up at the devil. Surprisingly, he appears somewhat concerned.
"You're here because you think you deserve this. You really, *genuinely* believe you're a bad person. Why is that?" The devil picks up your file again. "I've handled some truly nasty cases in my time, and I've prided myself on giving them the punishments they think they deserve. But *you*? Come on... I mean, look at your file! You're not a bad person. Not really."
The devil sighs. It's a strange sight- you could swear he looks tired, and maybe even a bit sympathetic. He picks up the phone sitting on his desk and dials a number.
"Got another one, Pete. I'm sending them back up." He paused while the person on the other end spoke. "No, no, it's nothing like that. I just think..." He paused again. "... I just think they're depressed. And that maybe they need another chance. I'm marking them for a do-over." As he speaks, the devil marks your file with a rubber stamp. It reads "NOT YOUR TIME YET."
You begin to feel light, suddenly. Before you know it, you're floating- ascending toward something you can't see. As you rise, the devil calls out to you.
"Go easy on yourself this time, huh? If I see you back here again, I'm keeping you!"
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Hot. There were probably better descriptions for this place. Therion felt he should be able to conjure some flowery prose as he peered about, gazing upon the countless stalagmites which grew from the floors like thousands of desperate and clawing fingers, each bathed in either a sickly orange glow or the shadow thereof. Yet... *hot.* It was so bloody *hot.*
"Good man..er.." Therion paused as he spoke, the misfigured demon which marched him in shackles casting a blood red eye at him. "..well, demon. Creature. What have you, honestly. I tell you again there has been a grave misunderstanding. I don't belong here!"
The demon emitted a low laugh, like mudslide as it churned downhill. "Yes. Of course. You couldn't possibly belong here!" It turned and cast out a grin full of mottled yellow teeth, each jagged with thick trails of saliva reflecting the light of hellfire. "Said the same thing myself when I 'fixed here meself."
Therion opened his mouth to speak, but was jerked sharply forward from the chains around his neck and arms. The demon merely laughed again. It went like that for some time. After a few more attempts Therion had surmised that if he wished to reach the fallen angel in one piece, it was best not to attempt conversating with his captor. The Father would know of this - *the demon won't be laughing then*, he stewed.
It was hard to place exactly how long they walked. In this place the orange light of magma and fire never subsided, nor did any grow tired. Weary? Certainty. Yet the twisted magic which governed this realm would let none sleep. There would be no escape from this place, not even in dream. However far it was, eventually they came upon it.
The palace sat alone, sequestered on a lonely isle. What seemed to be a cathedral dominated the mid-section, buttresses supporting the gothic structure on either side of the sloped roof. Curiously, as they drew closer, it seemed the structure was somehow drooping. With closer inspection it was revealed that the dark stone was somehow melted in places, causing a sag to numerous pillars and archways. *What might live here if even stone cannot?* pondered Therion.
They began crossing the imposing stone bridge towards the forsaken isle. Plucking up his last bit of courage, Therion spoke. "Demon - I demand your name!"
The demon did not laugh this time. It merely halted on the bridge, turning its lumbering form to gaze upon Therion's own meager body. "My name? Oh, fool. We'll have time enough for names. Now though, you walk alone. The *Uh'Kir* are not to enter the grounds of the Dark One himself. You should enjoy this privilege, Therion."
Before he could muster a response, the thing dropped his chain and spun sharply on its heel to leave. It moved with surprising agility considering how large its mishapen torso was in combination with the crooked and feeble legs which bore it.
"You.. Wait! You cannot just leave! I.." Therion called after the beast. Whether for lack of hearing or complete indifference it did not turn, now almost back towards the shore.
Therion looked about. For a brief moment he considered following the beast back to where he had arrived. Yet, what good would that do? The only way out of some problems is through them.
With that, Therion began marching towards the cathedral. Though he had despised the brute which had escorted him, he couldn't shake the sensation that walking alone to this place was a mistake for any creature. Step by step he went, staving off that dreadful feeling. In what felt too short a time, he arrived in a wide courtyard which lead to the steps of the unholy church.
The courtyard itself was a thing of strange beauty. Unlike the dilapidated stones of the structure itself, the yard had remained free of the brunt of hell's fire. Strange twisted plants glistened in the hateful glow. For a moment, Therion couldn't quite understand what they were. Yet as he ascended the steps he saw their delicate composition. The plants were completely glass, melted into place. Whether or not they were a work of craftsmanship or the arcane was anyone's guess.
He took one long final gaze at the yard. He felt for some reason that he should savor this beauty. Perhaps he simply felt that when he arrived in heaven, all this sorted out, he should remember the one beautiful place in damnation.
With that he grabbed one ornate handle and heaved open the towering stone doors to the cathedral itself. Inside a dark and graceful figure sat delicately upon a stool which was the only piece of furniture at all in the massive and isolated blackness.
"You may enter, Therion," spoke the fallen arch angel.
|
j7np4lj
|
j7mzhym
|
[WP] Your planet has finally achieved FTL travel and is being welcomed into the galactic community. However the species selected to guide your people through this process is a terrifying and warlike predator species called....humans.
|
"I'm afraid I do not understand, Councilor, why did you choose the Humans for T'ren outreach?" The T'ren ambassador ducked it's head, "They were very open about their history, why you would the Council ever tolerate them in civilized society?"
Councilor Vrex chuckled. "It's true, the humans nearly wiped themselves out several times before first contact, and due to a misunderstanding, waged war on five member races simultaneously for nearly fifty cycles before an accord could be reached." It's smile bordered on predatory, conflicting with it's relaxed body language.
"That being said, those five members no longer exist, as they violated Council law by forcibly acquiring member states for profit. Therefore, we allowed the humans to, follow through, as they say."
The T'ren recoiled in horror, "They exterminated them? How can you permit such a thing? It's insane, immoral!"
Vrex loomed over the ambassador, "It is not however, inhuman. They serve as a wonderful example for both those that join the Galactic Council and those that choose to go it alone. Do not violate Council law, do not invade Council worlds, do not enslave Council races.
If you do? We let the humans have you."
|
The hum of the air being pumped into the office made the only sound in the room of the Ambassador Veiycee. He looked at the information in his datapad for the fourth time, reading the communique that he had received from the newly discovered Galactic Community.
The Laycee, his people, were to be guided through the legal maze that were the rules of the community by a race that seemed to populate faster than his people, even though they were slower.
His curiosity was the bane of his excitement when he got the assignment though, and at this moment, he regretted having investigated this species that the delegation from the GC called ‘humans’. They lacked protective scales, were small, at least half his height. They were slow and loud, yet, for some reason, they had a long history of trying to kill each other.
As he finished the report on his datapad for a fourth time, he wondered how did this species manage to make it to space without exterminating themselves. Large conflicts as the ones he had read about were never present in the history of the Lycee, with most disagreements solved by heated debate, or one on one combat of those offended.
These beings… they seemed to enjoy combat more than what he was comfortable with, and all of his six beady eyes blurred as he looked at the invitation next to his datapad.
“Sir?” A voice said from across the room, “the Galactic Community Ambassador is here to speak with you.”
He nodded once and waved one of his four arms in an approving way and the other left the room, moments later, a tall, yet rock-like being came into the room.
“Ambassador Hrssk.” Ambassador Veyicee said, standing up, towering over the guest. “Welcome. Thank you for coming on such a short time.”
Hrssk’s various crystals around what could be considered the head flashed a few times.
“Your message said you had questions about your guides through this process. Which are those?”
Veyicee remained silent for a moment, before formulating the question.
“How was your first interaction with these beings?”
The hum of the air overtook the room and for a moment that stretched beyond acceptance, felt like no reply would be given.
“We discovered their planet 103 cycles ago, in which they proceeded to greet us with violence. Several ships we had sent to preform first contact with were destroyed, while ten others were damaged. The last one left repairs two days ago.”
“They attacked you?” Veyicee couldn’t believe that such a species prone to be a threat so easily would be the ones to shepherd them through this long and arduous process. “Why are they our guides?”
“We have seen that the humans are capable of navigating government spheres with relative ease and have mastered in such a short time -compared to other species we have found before them- what took others hundreds of cycles to understand. They have managed to also simplify all the necessary translations and wording of much of our regulatory wording in our policies. Due to this, we have deemed that they would be fit to guide you into the fold.”
“And how do you propose to keep them from sending their fleets to our planet?” Veyicee pushed the datapad he was reading closer to the Ambassador. “Their fleet is enough to…”
Hrssk made a questioning sound, but Veyicee couldn’t even come up with a comparison. The article he was reading talked about how they were able to take over a whole planet in much less time than one of the oldest members of the Community was able to.
“Their fleets have been appointed into several of their key systems. We have taken care of the process. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Veyicee was unable to believe it, but at this point he had no choice. It was this, or stand alone in the greater Void of Stars. So he just exhaled loudly, his nostrils flaring atop his head before he thanked the Ambassador from the Galactic Community.
There were many preparations that needed to be done, and figuring out how to protect his planet from this abnormality of a species was another task that would fall eventually over his shoulders.
“I am not ready for this.”
|
jap3yzs
|
jaourlb
|
[WP] A commuter train passing through Monster Town derails. Most of the passengers are found except a wealthy heir. Their wealthy parents sends a specialist to the supernatural hamlet to recover the missing heir because the police are forbidden to enter the supernatural sovereign territory.
|
"Before I accept your proposal, it's only fair to you that I confess something first.
I've been harboring a secret, a truth about myself which I've kept from you and almost everyone I know for fear of facing rejection and judgement.
I have a certain medical condition. It's not painful or life threatening - more of a cosmetic issue really - but it embarrasses me, it disgusts me, and no treatment or drug exists that can cure it. So I must live with it. So will you, should you still choose to marry me."
"My love... I know you have to shave your beard, I've known for years. Listen, all women have facial hair, it's just genetics that your hair comes in darker and courser. Honestly, I'm hoping it offsets my hereditary baldness when we have kids."
"No, idiot, I have... acidic sweat."
"What?"
"My sweat, its pH is ridiculous, way more corrosive than most. I'll tarnish that silver ring black within like 30 minutes of wearing it."
"Darling, I'll get it plated in platinum."
|
"Hello, Sweetie. I'm glad you were willing to come over on such short notice. There really is something we need to talk about."
Sweetie, my girlfriend, looked very nervous for some reason, but she walked in and stood next to my living room table.
I smiled, and I walked over to my 100% room darkening curtains. "The reason I asked you over here tonight was–"
"Wait!" Sweetie interrupted me. "Before you say anything, I need to do and say something!" Sweetie hopped up onto my table. Then, in an array of glittery sparkles, she shrunk in size, and wings appeared on her back.
"As you can see, I'm not human like you are. I'm actually a fairy. But, I've been living among humans, trying to learn more about them. They're always making wishes of us, and I wanted to know why. But, I've learned all I can on my own; now I want to learn more. Because we've spent so much time together, I've fallen in love with you, and I want to grant you your wishes. Fairies live to make others happy."
"So, that's why I am the way I am. Will you be able to accept that, and accept...me, or rather, us?" My girlfriend stood before me, holding out a silver ring on her outstretched arms. Yes, I said "on" her arms. My girlfriend has just revealed to me that she's actually a fairy. A freaking fairy, with wings, and magic, and everything! It would've been cute, if her clothing had changed sizes with her. Instead, the only thing keeping her dignity intact is the silver ring that she's trying to give me.
Well, nertz. Now I'm not going to be the first one to do my big reveal. I speak up anyway.
"Um, I absolutely accept your proposal, Sweetie, but I have to insist on a **gold** ring."
I never was one to beat around the bush. That was one of the reasons "Sweetie," loved me so dearly.
Sweetie tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "Why's that, Mister Honeybuns?"
"And I thought I asked you to use a different nickname for me. It isn't **manly**! Anyway, this is the reason. I don't think you would anyway, but I want to tell you that there's no need to fear what you're about to see. I'm in full control at all times, unlike what happens in those horror stories."
And with that, I fling open the curtains, revealing the full moon in all its silvery glow. Immediately upon seeing it, my change begins. I grow taller, fluffier, and toothier. This used to hurt, but after fifteen years, I've learned proper breathing and stance techniques. You'd be amazed at how many werewolves forget to breathe during the change. Changing body shape, size, and DNA requires a LOT of energy, and in a mammalian type of creature, where do you think that energy comes from? Oxygen, of course! And where does oxygen come from? Breathing, of course!
Anyway, all this to say, I basically go KER-FLUFF without grimacing, growling, or being grumpy afterwards. And by wearing some oversize clothing on full moon nights, I still have my dignity intact, too.
"Now, as you can see, I had good reason for wanting to talk." I give Sweetie a goofy, toothy grin. "It seems I'm not the only one who wanted to reveal a big secret tonight. I hope you can understand and accept me, too. And I hope you can understand why I have to insist on a gold ring instead of a silver one."
Sweetie dropped the ring and dropped on her bottom, laughing. "And here I was, worried over nothing! Whoo! Hahahahaha!"
Sweetie took a minute to compose herself, and in doing so, realized her state. A quick flash of sparkles later, and she was wearing a cute one-piece dress.
"I see what you mean, *Mister Fuzzbuns,* Sweetie teased. "And I guess the irony has struck me again. So much for learning more about humans by being with one."
Sweetie flitted up and landed on my nose. "I guess I'll just have to learn about werewolves instead, for a while."
|
lczveij
|
lcza42r
|
[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
The bell tolls.
The hardest part was the timing.
You had to make sure that you transferred the money on the hour every hour.
I spent days working on the automatic transfer, setting up the plans for the prewritten wills needed for an operation like this.
As for people? It’s kind of crazy what desperate people will do for their families’ future’s to be secured.
The idea is simple. Transfer the wealth of the richest people in the world to a willing subject on the hour every hour. After their death the money is returned and the rich pay off their family and move on.
There were protests, of course there were protests, far fewer than you’d expect though. Well, I guess it’s not really surprising after the first few figureheads dropped dead in front of their followers. A banking error had made them the richest in the world for an unlucky few seconds. “Unlucky”.
……
Thinking back to the first 6 months I feel like everything worked out as you’d expect. Chaos. It was kind of shocking the people who died, seeing the desperate shows of philanthropy to decrease your wealth enough to survive.
But everything has rules and rules can be studied. Having massive wealth gets you killed, but it’s binary, it simply adds assets it has no regard for how any why the “value” was acquired. Some leaders of countries died before realizing this, as did a few CEOs.
Having rules means loopholes and no one is better at using loopholes than the rich.
By pooling their wealth the top 20 or so richest people remaining suddenly had the ability to make anyone they chose the richest person in the world.
They suddenly had the power to kill anyone they wanted without any possible defense.
You can imagine how that went.
That system is automated now, thanks to me.
……
I type my name into the machine.
My phone rings, there has been a deposit to my account.
The bell tolls.
|
How it happens. Why it happens. Who is responsible for it. None of it makes any sense. At first religious fanatics believed it was God, or some diety. Until their leaders started to kick the bucket. The irony of religious leaders who took a vow of poverty to be killed off as the richest person in the world. It actually moved humans away from religion. Now, less than 50 years later, religion is more of a niche fad than anything. Kind of on the same page as Wicca. A novelty that a short number of people take too seriously. Even I honestly didn't think it would go that way. If anything I thought it would strengthen religious movements.
It seems whatever is in control of the fate of humans, we've been deceived by the cleverness of it. It only took a few weeks to figure out this wasn't some massive coincidence, and that the richest person on the planet was being killed off. It was, and still is to some degree, studied at length and none of the theories proved fruitful. It started focusing on humans, believing some human developed the ability to remotely kill someone from anywhere. But even if that were the case, how did they know who was the richest at any given hour? It was easy to figure out when Musk and Bezos dropped dead during a press interview. But as time went on, especially after a year or so, that information became much more obscure. It however did include anything related to personal wealth, such as stocks and reacclimated business profits. It was extremely precise to a terrifying degree.
Never seen so much philanthropy in the first year. Trillions of dollars flooded the market in an attempt to become the least wealthy. After much experimentation, it also took about 30 days to "register" your wealth yet it took nearly a year to unregister it. So if you handed someone a million dollars and they became the wealthiest on the planet, whatever it was acted like they didn't exist for 30 days (or rather their wealth was so low it didnt seem to think it was possible for them to be wealthy). I think this seemed like a way to avoid anyone trying to kill someone off by just transferring a bunch of money to them. Or to avoid getting rid of their wealth right before they kick the bucket which prevented the rich from somehow trying to "unrich" themselves in a short time.
Eventually humans settled into this new reality. For the majority of people it made no difference in their life. They would never be the wealthiest. In time, most of the worlds richest people were gone and a majority of their wealth was either passed on to charity or their family, those who inherited it gave up their wealth. For many years we developed a system to distribute wealth to the terminally ill. For more than a year candidates were chosen to essentially die, but were given practically unlimited wealth to enjoy their remaining days. Of course, they didn't have a choice. It was an enacted law that the terminally ill give up their life for their country. Until that too stopped working. Not only did this result in a nearly civil war, but those who were given this wealth simply gave it up. This led to the discovery by the government that any wealth associated with a business itself was not tied to a single person and could therefore be redistributed equally. This meant that so long as the business didn't allocate those funds to an individual, they were considered void. This allowed humans to subsidize production, Healthcare, and other quality of life aspects. Businesses now offered free homes, food, vehicles, and many other amenities as job compensation.
Eventually, after almost 50 years, we no longer work. Not in the same sense we used to. Businesses exist to provide for our needs, while we in turn seek fulfillment for ourselves. Many choose not to work anymore. Those who do are incentivized and given a great deal of leniency to improve themselves. Reputation is boundless in the eyes of society and those who choose that path are given a great deal of respect, while those who choose a comfortable easy life are not shunned for it, but are not held in a high regard. It's not perfect by any means, but it's a million times better than what we had before. Oh and money doesn't exist anymore. After we abolished currency about 8 years ago, not a single person has died as a result of wealth. Since nobody is considered wealthier than someone else. At least not in a monetary sense. Now wealth is more about fulfillment and happiness. Contributing to society is our currency and the respect and reputation one receives is our payment. The result of this is being able to "afford" luxurious lifestyles. The best food, homes, vacations, etc.
And it's all thanks to some unknown force we may never know.
Hey Siri...
|
lczveij
|
lczi8rp
|
[WP] Once an hour, every hour, the richest person on earth dies. This continues indefinitely...
|
The bell tolls.
The hardest part was the timing.
You had to make sure that you transferred the money on the hour every hour.
I spent days working on the automatic transfer, setting up the plans for the prewritten wills needed for an operation like this.
As for people? It’s kind of crazy what desperate people will do for their families’ future’s to be secured.
The idea is simple. Transfer the wealth of the richest people in the world to a willing subject on the hour every hour. After their death the money is returned and the rich pay off their family and move on.
There were protests, of course there were protests, far fewer than you’d expect though. Well, I guess it’s not really surprising after the first few figureheads dropped dead in front of their followers. A banking error had made them the richest in the world for an unlucky few seconds. “Unlucky”.
……
Thinking back to the first 6 months I feel like everything worked out as you’d expect. Chaos. It was kind of shocking the people who died, seeing the desperate shows of philanthropy to decrease your wealth enough to survive.
But everything has rules and rules can be studied. Having massive wealth gets you killed, but it’s binary, it simply adds assets it has no regard for how any why the “value” was acquired. Some leaders of countries died before realizing this, as did a few CEOs.
Having rules means loopholes and no one is better at using loopholes than the rich.
By pooling their wealth the top 20 or so richest people remaining suddenly had the ability to make anyone they chose the richest person in the world.
They suddenly had the power to kill anyone they wanted without any possible defense.
You can imagine how that went.
That system is automated now, thanks to me.
……
I type my name into the machine.
My phone rings, there has been a deposit to my account.
The bell tolls.
|
Nobody knew why or how it started, just that when the clock struck midnight on that faithful day, the richest man in the world died. Just as media companies were rushing to get the news out, the next richest person fell dead in the next hour.
The internet was abuzz with conspiracy theories faster than the fifth person to drop dead. All over the world, governments and conglomerates held emergency meetings to pool together what they knew of the phenomenon. The best doctors couldn't determine the cause of death, they simply stopped breathing without any other signs.
The masses watched the news with mixed feelings. Some thought this would be a great thing. Others were concerned of the economic repercussions. A handful wondered how long this would continue.
The elite rich were transferring their wealth to others. Not out of charity, but self-preservation. Some tried to create clandestine bank accounts under different identities. The usual tax evasion tactics now evolved to avoid death by wealth.
Whatever it was that swept across earth, it didn't care for financial wrangling and accounting manipulations. The death toll didn't stop. Every hour without fail, it would claim a life.
Companies would eventually collapse without all of their top brass alive. The economy in shambles. Even as wealth truly began to trickle down towards the downtrodden masses, there was always someone richer to be culled by the mysterious death. It didn't care that there were plenty of wealth lying around with no owner.
A handful of people proposed sharing wealth such that there was a tie. Assets and cash had to be distributed in such a way that two people could have the exact amount of wealth. That's assuming this "Death of Wealth" phenomenon calculated wealth the same way humans did.
The first few people to make that equal distribution of wealth died before the balancing could be complete. It was the next seven deaths did it occur that there were...other factors it probably looked at besides cash and assets. Did it count family, happiness, health and other kinds of non-monetary wealth?
A year after 8760 people died, still nobody figured out how the richest person was derived if there was a tie. It wasn't age, or country of birth, or gender. Perhaps it was going to be a mystery to the very end. Monopolies are dead; only smaller companies remained, for anyone who accumulated too much wealth would die.
These firms shrunk as owners either died or gave away their fortunes to stay alive. Consumerism is falling. No longer did people pursue great wealth, now everyone just wanted to live for as long as they could. As the overall circulation of money grew smaller, so did people began resorting to burning literal cash. Banks went bankrupt during a mass panic withdrawal of money to burn. Electronic records of a person's riches gradually vanished as humans chose to simply keep cash. Makes it easier to count and track how much wealth you had, and to shred it if one feared being too rich to live. You could carry cash and walk in a dark alleyway and nobody would bat an eyelid.
Robberies aren't a thing anymore. Nobody would be taking money from another in a world trying to get rid of money. The children could come out to play. Hang out late at night. Revelers and party-goers could get drunk and not be robbed blind. Who would hurt them? Nobody would decrease another's fortune and save their position in what is now known as the "List of Wealthy Persons to Die".
One smart guy suggested to fall back to a barter system rather than utilize currency. Perhaps that way, without a measurement of wealth, the deaths would stop. Considering the assets people held - properties, cars and other valuables, it was not to be. There was always someone who had one more property. One more car. An extra bag of rice, or one more cow than the next farmer.
Death comes slowly for humanity as a whole. There are billions of humans on the planet, and just 8760 people dying from this mysterious thing. But death comes for all eventually. It is patient. It has all the time in the world. Even as nature began to recover from humanity's dwindling fortunes, the birth rate was one of those things that never bounced back.
They say there are two things inevitable in life - taxes and death.
In a world that has eliminated currency, yet still struggled to completely eliminate wealth and worldly possessions, death's clock is always ticking every hour. One hour, one death. No exceptions. No preventions. Only death.
[Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, click here for more prompt responses and short stories written by me.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/)
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k4k2yk4
|
k4jg1y2
|
[WP] Your father always told you to measure twice, cut once. You may not have followed in his footsteps, but you never forgot what’s important. It’s the day of your first battle. You have your sword and your tape measure.
|
There is no shadow government.
The people in charge want you to think there is. They want you to believe there's a method and an order to what goes on in the government. A grand scheme, a unified vision.
It's all a lie.
There is no shadowy organization pulling the strings, bringing us closer to a world that they control.
We wish there was. How great it would be if there was some semblance of coherency hidden behind the doors of the capital building.
But there isn't. Our fates are in the hands of bickering children with no unified motive or even ideals. Each acting in their own self interest. Totally separate from the others.
Like a mad D&D game with no DM. And we're heading to a TPK.
|
**North Korea hosts real-life hunger games:**
Although it seems far-fetched and outlandish at first, we have strong reason to believe that that North Korea has been hosting annual hunger games. No one can be sure for how long this has been happening but our researchers have reason to believe 1984 is the year this all began.
**Below are some of the similarities between Panem and North Korea:**
\- Both countries are governed under a dictatorship
\- The residents are unaware/ have very little knowledge on the outside world
\- There is a central city where only the ones most faithful to the country and dictator can reside
\- Majority of the citizens are forced to work gruelling hours and are severely physically punished if they so much as disagree with the dictator's opinions
\- Extreme levels of propaganda
**Why did we come to the conclusion of this?**
From past events, it is clear that the rich and powerful of North Korea don't value their civilians in the slightest. They are willing to go to any lengths to support their own wants and needs, even if this means inducing or ignoring nationwide suffering.
**Examples:**
\- Labour camps
In these camps, people are forced to work countless hours on a diet of salt, cabbage and corn. They are left without underwear, socks, soap, toilet paper and any basic sanitary needs.
\- Flooding
In the late 90s, a major flood destroyed millions of crops, leaving countless families without anything to harvest ; without any income, an estimated 600,000 to 3 million residents starved to death. Meanwhile, the dictator was supply of Hennessy cognac because it tickled his fancy.
**What about the actual hunger games aspect?**
Since the two are so incredibly similar in many regards, we decided to investigate deeper into whether they could also both be hosting this horrific event.
The hunger games were created to "to provide entertainment for the Capitol and to remind the districts of the Capitol's power and its lack of remorse or forgiveness for the failed rebellion of the current competitors' ancestors."
The same message can be translated into lots of small-but-failed rebellions (we probably wouldn't even know about majority due to the secretive nature of the country.) We already know that the wealthy don't care about the citizens in the slightest, so why not to create a spectacle for the upper class (around 1% of the almost 26 million inhabitants.) This would also go hand in hand with spreading the message that rebellions aren't permitted and anyone who dares to attempt anything will meet a brutal end.
In addition to this, North Korea 'happens' to have the worlds biggest football pitch located on one of it's islands. Who is to say that the games aren't being held right there in '*Rungrado May Day Stadium?'*
**How could something like this be hidden?**
Firstly, since North Korea already has minimal connections to the outside world hiding it wouldn't be too much effort. On top of this, it's not like the other world leaders are going to notice a few missing people in North Korea every year, the only ones who may notice are it's own government and if they are the creators of this version of the games, they obviously won't make a scene or report it to anyone.
​
**Overall**
There are people who both support and denounce this theory but the team here at ***Writing prompts research*** highly suspects that either this or something very similar is occurring at the moment.
|
m64st36
|
m63wof8
|
[WP] The Chosen One in the secret magical world drops out of magic academy after a few semesters to go back to "normal" school and regular society. Every magical professor and his old friends occasionally pop up in his life to ask him to reconsider, to which he vehemently denounces magical society.
|
"Hello Kane!" The whimsical and sweet voice of my old wand craft professor greets my ears. Unfortunately for me, I'm taking a leak in the men's room. Unfortunately for her, I also fart while peeing.
"What the fuck, Ms. Willow?! I'm kinda busy, couldn't you have waited?!"
"Eugh... Was that you?"
I roll my eyes. Of all the times... I'll have to get her the magical equivalent of a bell around her neck.
"Kane you simply must come back to us, our halls are dreadfully quiet without you." Willow pleads for what feels like the hundredth time.
I'm not going back. Not now, not next semester, not ever. That school is a cancer. "Did you find another way to cast your spells?"
"Kane we talked about this, our magic can only exist under very specific circumstanc-" "Then no. I can't be a part of it, a spinning cog in your fucked up machine. I can't pretend I don't know what happens there."
Willow's face falls through my explanation. "I know it's hard to come to grips with but dear, this is the way of it. Don't you miss the rush from hurling lightning into trees? The world at your feet with a wand in your hand? You can be the best of us, and instead you squander your time here with..." She scrunches her nose in disgust. "Livestock..."
There it is. The entire reason I can't go back. Hers is an opinion shared by all the faculty at her school. I clench my jaw in anger. "They are more than just batteries, Willow. They're people, with families and jobs. They're little worlds unto themselves, and you all just pretend we aren't destroying them."
Willow shrugs. "You made a good destroyer. None of us have ever seen anyone with your talent. You use magic like you were born to it."
I try to look resolute. "My answer hasn't changed. I'm staying."
It's Willow's turn to roll her eyes. "You're so dramatic. It's not like we're killing them."
She's right. The people used by the academy don't die, not really. Due to the nature of magic, the school needs to create energy for magicians to use. My school has chosen mental torture for the fuel. Horrible, grotesque, chilling visions in uneding waves, bashing the consciousness of the subject to harvest their terror. We call the discharged "gawkers". After a month of seeing their worst fears, no one let out can do anything more than drool. Most of them starve to death.
"No, Willow. But you might as well. Death would be kinder."
Willow sighs. "Fine. Have fun pretending your tantrum will fix anything."
She leaves the men's room through a portal she drew on the wall. I wonder how many hours someone was tortured just so she could avoid the hassle of taking the bus.
|
"I am here once again, young friend, to plead with you to rejoin our halls," began the professor, pausing to take a dramatic sip from his mug. "It has been several years now, long enough for you to see the, ah, shortcomings of your current path and the mounting dangers of the mundane world.. Your true talents, all endowed upon you by fate itself to let you unite arcanists everywhere under a single banner, are not merely wasted in this place, but irresponsibly squandered!"
The dark-haired youth sitting next to the elder frowned into his own mug of ale before mirroring the sip. Around and around they had been, the old man always believing that a mere flight of youthful fancy kept the Chosen One from fulfilling a grand destiny that could bring together the disparate magical societies to bring about the New World. The lad suppressed a shudder as the cold memory of his dreams rose up again as if to warn him away.
"Professor Zauberestein, neither you nor any that you have sent made any headway in changing my mind; I am nearly old enough that I think you will not be able to continue these attempts due to the Academy's ancient laws." The teen's composure changed, a small display of sad resignation showing through his face and gestures as he continued: "I truly loved my time studying with you, the other professors, and my friends; but, since no one can tell me how to prevent my visions of mass death and destruction from coming about, I \*must\* pursue the path that I believe might prevent that future from coming to pass."
A sigh escaped the nearly white beard before the mug raised to meet it again. The boy was very astute, which heightened the frustration that must be felt by all who opposed his foolishness in throwing away his gifts. Calmy, he raised his hand raised to wipe froth from the mustache whiskers and turned his dark brown eyes back to the youthful face that he had once wished could have been that of his own progeny. "The Scroll of Prophecies," the old man began again, "is dangerous business, as you well know. Misinterpretation has caused as many disasters as have been diverted over the years, which is why the Council supplements every interpretation with systematic augury and double-blind confirmations." His tone lowered to a confidential stage-whisper, even though no one else in the tavern could understand them past the temporary garbling spell on their stools: "there will be a great war in Europe within the decade, which cannot be prevented by any means, though we have perhaps delayed it a little. Your visions of this war are a terrible burden, but do not let them continue to confuse you as they have! It is the next great war on its heels, closer together than almost of any of the true great wars of history have ever coincided, that the prophecy indicates you will have the power to prevent or else use to usher the entire world into an era of prosperity unlike any other. Arcanists directing the mundane industry might even let us reach \*distant worlds!\* How can you turn away from the light just because you must cross the darkness to reach it?"
The boy-man's face was once again composed as he nodded, albeit clearly not in agreement; it was a signal of resolve, of commitment to his chosen path. "The Council is too keen to claim leadership of all arcanists, to be the crown atop my head and to bask in the glory of living to see great prophecy come to be. You cannot do it within a hundred years without me, and I will not do it because the visions tell me that my role would be that of Destroyer, not Uniter." He stopped, then reached down for his bag and opened the flap to withdraw a small painting, which he handed to the older man. "I will continue on to study at a great mundane academy to be an artist; artists don't lead armies or destroy peoples, they capture beauty and symbolism so that it may be remembered and passed on."
The professor looked at the watercolor on fine paper: it showed the great Academy Hall, shadowed by clouds in its nook in the Alps, while sunbeams poured on the lands of the Mundane in the foreground. There was some talent there, to be sure, but nothing exceptional enough to balance the loss of arcane prodigy. He set it gently on the bar before casting an augury spell, which confirmed that the paths to successfully changing the lad's mind had closed on him. A grim aura settled around him as he picked up the paper again and stood, pocketing it in exchange for a small wand. The Council had been perfectly clear: if the Chosen One would not cooperate with this final chance to return, then they would have to wait until the 21st century to find the next one.
The younger man's pale eyes went to the wand, to the wrinkled face, and back to the wand. With a grimace, he returned to his mug and chugged half of it, suddenly coughing and choking as he accidentally inhaled some. With a tremble, he cleaned his face and turned on his stool to face the wand. "Good-bye, Professor Zauberestein."
The old man set some coins on the counter before raising the wand and composing his spell. Memory work was delicate, which was why he had been selected for this task, and some risk of personality changes or even loss of vocabulary or skills was probable. \*Forget what I tell you,\* he intoned in a secret tongue, before walking out the door. Stepping to the street, he paused at the window and watched the lad begin a sketch. "Good-bye, young Adolf," he whispered.
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lcsx7ks
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lcsx0m6
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[WP] Your brother left his newborn child with you so that he could go "find himself," whatever that meant. Lacking the resources and unable to care for a child, you had no choice but to give them up for adoption. Years later, your brother finally returns and asks where his child is.
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"What do you mean, you gave him up for adoption?"
There was genuine confusion and sadness in his voice, but I knew the anger would come.
*"Just as I said."*
I managed to dodge the first blow but the second took me down, he grabbed my hair as I tried to lift myself up.
"I TOOK CARE OF YOU WHEN MUM AND DAD DIED! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO REPAY ME!"
I managed to rip myself free and kicked him in the gut, the blow seemed to shock him, I'd never fought back. We grappled for a minute before I got him in a lock on the floor, pressing his face down.
*"Mum and dad died when I was 17, you took me in for one year and beat the shit out of me whenever you got drunk. Then you knock up some poor girl, don't care when she dies in childbirth and then leave that poor lad with an 18 year old who barely made minimum wage and had no support. I could barely take care of myself."*
"Bitch."
*"Okay, you think that. Now leave."*
I stand up and indicate the door.
"Where's my son?"
I state at him incredulous.
*"Tom, it's been 15 fucking years, I have no idea where he is!"*
He took another swing but he's getting tired so it was easy to dodge.
*"We looked everywhere for you, the police even thought you might be dead! Social services agreed that I wasn't fit to take care of him and and I decided that I didn't want to keep in touch."*
"You gave away my child!"
I pushed him out the door, there was no fight left in him.
*"You gave him away first."*
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Bright, blurry red tail lights marched at an agonizing pace ahead of me. Droplets streaked and gathered along the untouched portions of the windshield, wipers flipping across in front of me. Work had beaten me so thoroughly I couldn’t find the strength to turn on the radio. Soft drops pattered on the metal roof keeping me company through the dark drive.
My phone lit up and I squinted my eyes at it. A text from an unsaved number read, ‘Hey Autumn. It’s John, I’m back in the states. Call me at this number when you get a chance.’
I flicked my eyes back to the road, my arms began to tingle. My stomach sinking in on itself. He’s didn’t say he was coming back, or when. If ever. Can I pretend I never saw the text? That I got a new number?
The phone dinged again, ‘I’ll stop by tonight if you’re still at the same place.’
Oh fuck, oh shit. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.
I took a deep breath, and looked ahead. I gripped the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles were white. How could I even begin to explain? I don’t have enough money to get a hotel and pretend I don’t live there anymore.
No. He made this mess. He asked me to do the impossible, knew I could barely support myself at this mediocre job let alone a child. He selfishly left and just expected things would turn out okay in the end. That’s not reality and he’s got an awakening coming.
+
I sent a text back saying, ‘Yes. I’m still here. Come by.’ And waited. Sat on the brown leather couch that was missing material in some places. Its short legs faded with age. I stared at the door, a floor lamp in the far corner kept me company with its warm light. Silence pressed in around me as I ran through everything I could. How to say it, where should I begin. Tell him right when he walks in or pretend to be interested and wait until he asks. If he should care to ask, since the kid meant so little to him that he would just leave. This prick thinks he ca-
A rapping knock at the door stiffened my muscles. Pure will made my legs raise me off the couch. I stepped forward and my feet drug through invisible muck. I stared at the door knob, finger tips brushing it. Another knock, louder and more deliberate than the last.
I clamped my hand on the knob and turned. The night poured in. Cold and damp, the rain smacked the sidewalk in heavy fast drops. I looked at John. He was skinnier than before, sandy blond hair draped over his shoulders. A full beard bloomed from his face and trailed down to his chest. He held out two tanned arms and said, “Autumn, it’s been so long.” I stood frozen in place, looking him up and down. He stared back and his arms slowly fell. The smile died from his face. I stepped back and opened the door, “Come in.”
He looked around the plain apartment and set his bag on the floor. “How have you been?” He asked. I shut the door with a forceful snick. “Surviving.” I replied. He turned to face me, the question was written all over his face before he asked it.
“Where is she?” He breathed. “The daughter you left behind without a second thought?” I sneered, taking steps towards him. “Her parents should know.” I locked my hateful stare on his eyes, “And no, I don’t mean you. What the fuck did you expect me to do with a goddamn kid John.” I threw my hands into the air, “You KNEW I couldn’t hack it. Can barely survive myself. You thought that someone who lives off ramen for half a month could take care of a kid?” I scoffed a laugh, “You’re a piece of work John.”
He looked down at the floor, fists tight as his side. “Well what’s it gonna be? Gonna tell me I’M shitty? I adopted her out to a loving, well off family.” I watched his pathetic shoulders tremble. “What? Got nothing to say?” I stepped closer but he remained as he was. I craned my neck to look at his face but he turned away. I shoved my hands into his chest and knocked him onto the couch.
“Fucking say something!” I screamed, he looked up at me. Tears streamed in steady rivers down his cheeks. His mouth trembled, trying to form words but awful sobs came out instead. I stepped back, step after step. He crumbled into the couch, wailing cries deafening me. And as I looked upon the broken man in my home, I felt it. The dark gaping maw in my chest opened and threatened to take everything with it.
I felt so fucking guilty.
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k6ipup4
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k6i0um8
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[WP] You are isekai'd into a world of magic, you are the hero, at the request of the kingdom, you defeat the demon king, destroy the abyss armies, and even slay the dragon lord, all under promise that you will get to return home. Ultimately, they tell you, they don't know how to send you back.
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I stood with my back straight, hands resting serenely on the pommel of sheathed blade as it rested point down in front of me. Listening to the Emperor rattle on, heaping praise and and honours on my name. Finally he stopped and stepped forward.
"And lastly we grant you the title of Duke and lands to the north as your domain and the hand of my beloved daughter."
He said this whilst smiling benevolently, so sure that this would please me, that this was what I wanted.
I looked down and heaved a great sigh before dropping my sword, this caused a gasp as it was the sword of legend and forged by the gods. To drop it was sacrilege. Next I started to remove my armour, piece by piece, dropping it on the floor with no regard. The royal secretary, a squirrelly little man, ran up to me and pleaded with me to explain, to step aside and calm down, to stop whatever this was.
The Saintess was standing next to Emperor, hands held over her mouth in horror. The Emperor himself was stuttering and his daughter, "my fiance" looked as foolish as ever.
After I pulled off the last greave, I tossed it towards the dais and stated at him with utter disdain.
"You never had any way to send me home, did you?"
The hall went silent as a morgue, barring the princess constantly asking what was going on. I turned and walked towards the massive and heavy doors of the hall and easily opened them alone. Turning to look back at the people within as I pushed the doors closed, I smiled.
"Luckily, he already gave me the spell."
I sealed the room as the screams started, how none of them had seen the shadows in such a brightly lit room just attested to their stupidity.
I can't wait to eat my mums cookies.
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The demon king was at the bottom of my foot looking at me with fear and terror in his eyes, good the same he made people fear for their own lives. The same fear that went through my companions faces as they fell to him.
"You'll end up just like me," The demon king spat blood out on the ground, "It's a constant cycle, violent cycle." His fading emerald eyes meet a shiny quartz. His hand extended towards a broken pocket watch that was on the ground but before he could reach it. I stepped on his hand with my reinforced boot crushing it instantly. His screams were agonizing as I shoved the pocket watch in my pocket.
"Just go to hell where you belong." I scoffed as I brought up my spear and pierced his heart sick of hearing the excuses, pulling my weapon out with a gush of blood. Not bothering to pick it up all the way I decided to drag it across the floor causing sparks as I left the demon king's castle.
The wind kicked up beneath my feet as I slowly started to float before it fully circulated my body as I blasted toward the kingdom. Due to the wind being one of my magical proficiencies, it didn't take any longer than fifteen minutes before I landed at the castle and opened the door without any warning.
"I killed him for you." My voice boomed as I pulled out the broken pocket watch that was infamously told about throughout the lands. Deciding there is no point but to cut to the chase, "Send me home already, I miss my friends and family."
The guards all chuckled nervously and my eye traced over to one of the knights quickly leaving the room, doesn't concern him. A nasally voice that sounded like a pig spoke for the first time rang in my ears, "Well about that we don't know how exactly but if you give us time. We are positive that we can figure something out."
"How many?" That was my first thought, a constant cycle. "How have heroes have you summoned?" I took a step forward the ground cracking beneath my foot, some of the guards decided to do the right thing and leave. Some remained stupid and stayed by the king's side, "How many of those heroes failed?" One of the guards attempted to charge me but I simply formed an air bullet and pierced his chest. "How many of them succeeded just to learn they can't get sent back?"
The king was silent for a moment before he hesitantly spoke, "1375...that's how many demon kings we had."
Rage. The wind kicked up around me as I felt my anger grow, those companions of mine who fought a war they shouldn't have to fight because of incompetence. People die every day because of these rulers who don't think before they act. It's their fault why they constantly have problems.
"Daddy! I heard ruck-" It was the princess she is beautiful. "I heard a lot of noise coming in here and wanted to make sure you were okay." She gasped as she saw the corpse that was on the ground before looking back up at me. "Mr. Hero did you do this?"
I smiled, a cruel smile on my face. Before I formed a massive air bullet the tip of my pointer finger and blasted her head off, the blood and brain matter splattered over the throne room and the king. The *princess was beautiful*.
The king cried in outrage, "Guards! Get him!"
My other magical proficiency was water. Water and wind are a perfect combo, and I formed a wind ball with water inside it sending it forward. Before the guards could even react I split the ball and sent the remaining guards flying to the wall crushing them instantly. Casually strolling forward I stood in front of the king, his breath was quickening. There was heat racing behind me I didn't bother turning my head around as I raised an air bubble encasing the both of us.
"Do you want to know a quote that I'm sure crossed every single hero or heroine and demon king or queen mind?" I asked as I placed the tip of my spear against her throat.
"What?" Was all the king could say resigned to his fate.
"You either die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become a villain, fitting quote right?" The spear went across the king's throat as his hand instinctually reached out and covered it. My hand grabbed the pocket watch that the old hero had and I looked at it, a small frown appearing on my face.
It was an older man with brown hair and radiant green eyes holding another man with black hair with beautiful brown eyes. How many lives have been ruined by this land? No matter, I will simply find a solution to leave. Heroes or heroines, all of them will fall or will join me. They do not have a choice like I wasn't giving one.
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jbrm6dp
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jbph7lw
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[WP] You are a demon and you have been summoned by a mortal. He announced that he has brought you a sacrifice. Except it's the same teenaged girl that people have tried to sacrifice to you 5 times already
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I burst into the mortal realm in a swirl of nightmare wings, darkness billowing mightily around my glistening form. My monstrous fangs bared, hungry...for souls.
"Mortal!" I bellowed with gusto (this part just never got old). "I demand...A SACRIFICE!"
"Yes, oh evil one!" cackled a handwringing cringer,u slowly balding in a sweaty black tee. He jerked a young woman roughly out of the candle shadows.
"Hiiiiiii!" she beamed with a cutesy little wave.
I slapped one clawed hand over my horned brow in frank despair. "Not *that* one!"
"N-not..." The cringing man wiped sweat from his brow with a greasy rag.
*"That* one. Not. Her!"
"B-but...Your...Your Evilness! Sh-she--"
"Asked particularly, yes. She keeps *on* doing that," I snarled, while the perky young woman giggled.
"Y-yes, Your Evilness! Sh-she was most--
"Eager, I'm sure," I said sourly, snapping my tail.
"Y-yes, ex-exactly! Eager! The very word, Your Evilness!"
"No," I said, not to the cringing man but to the young woman, who was now unmistakeably giving me what I believe mortals refer to as 'bedroom eyes.'
"Oh come on," she pouted.
The cringing man goggled.
I snorted noxious black smoke.
The young woman flipped her hair at me and crinkled her nose adorably.
"Stop that!" the cringing man snapped at her nervously. "You've displeased His Evilness!"
"He'll get over it," she smiled.
The cringing man's jaw fell.
"Won't you?" she went on, addressing me with excruciating sweetness. "My little Mammy-wammy will be just fine!"
I cringed visibly. "My name," I growled, mortified, "is MAMMON."
"What? Mammy-wammy don't like hims wittle nicky-namey?"
"NO! Leave me *alone!* Begone, wench!"
Her pert nose crinkled again, sulky this time. "But *Mammy--"*
"AUGH!" I roared, spouting agonized flame. "Get her away from me!"
I rounded on the cringing man, who shat himself immediately. "Remove this woman from my presence at once!"
Shuffling miserably in his malodorous breeches, the cringing man began hustling the disappoointed temptress toward the nearest exit.
"Maaammy-*Wammy--"* she wailed over her shoulder as the cringing man stuffed her hastily through the door.
I shuddered deeply.
From behind me came a gale of hilarity. I turned sharply. Belial and Astaroth had apparently come along for the ride.
"Mammy-Wammy," hooted Belial.
"Hims wittle nicky-namey," Astaroth sputtered.
I was never going to hear the end of this.
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(Now, they are really testing my patience...) Demon thought at first, this was filled with anger but, in teenager's eyes it saw the same anger but, mixed into obvious horror. Demon thought for a moment and wicked smile carved on this face soon. Demon finally killed the young lady and dragged her into shadows seemingly of the abyss.
He discussed with the mortals for a while then left giving false promise of desire to be fulfilled. Young lady's body has disappeared from the eyes of the ones who wanted to sacrifice her. Then demon left too but, once the mortals had left the room. It returned and half kneels upon the young woman's body, places the hand on her lower back and stroke upwards up the spine.
Lady gasped for air and woke up as the demon's hand left her body then both stood up. Lady looked around and then saw the demon, taken away by fear like a leaf in a wind. Demon motioned her to calm down, she didn't, so the demon thought.
"Revenge, is a dish..." demon said and waited for her to realize the intent and plan of this.
"Best served cold?" Teenage girl asked continuing the sentence "You just knocked me out and faked my death?" she added another question into the line. Bothered the demon it did not.
"Yes, this is fifth time and I have far more important business in the world under yours, so to say. Now, I have to make an exception as I believe they won't stop trying, a hint I should have noticed earlier but, distracted I was" Demon explains. Young lady no longer submerged into a sea of fear, changed into skepticism in her eyes.
"What about me then?" Young woman asked expecting the worst.
"You should have asked, what about us? Well, the answer is quite... Wicked, young lady" demon said and landed on the floor.
"You are planning on possessing me are you?" young lady asked realizing the intent and quite undoubtedly the first option.
"No. I do not plan to dominate your life. We will together, create your tools for vengeance, they will be the way you will stay connected to me and once we are done, they will cease to be" Demon said. At first horror makes a return but, turned away at the door in lady's mind when she heard the demon's intent. Still skeptical though.
"What about after it?" Young lady asked.
"After it, we will part ways. I intend on returning to my home when my plan has been carried out" Demon declared.
"How do I know this is not an attempt to delude me?" Young woman asked, slowly enticed by the prospect of revenge.
Demon saw this and is internally amused "I would have taken over you on the first time if my plans was something else" Demon said the discussion becoming tiresome. Young lady thought a moment and answered with a nod.
"How do we proceed?" she asks.
"Embrace the thought of revenge, the thrill of getting even. Ignite your anger and bring out your passion" Demon says and aligns this hand to be touched by the young maiden. Young lady hesitates when she raised her hand on the level but, not close of it.
She thought for a moment and looked for what the demon desires from her. Demon senses the lady's desire for revenge first, then next came passion, it would be followed by anger. This excites the demon. Finally, it will begin. Lady places her hand on Demon's own when the anger surfaced to her mind.
Palms still set against each other, lady felt a bridge in her mind, on the other side. She felt the Demon. "Do not be distracted, focus" Demon said, aloud. Lady's mind jinked where the Demon desired it not but, it quickly returned to where it should be. On the task at hand.
Lady's passion now proclaimed itself to the demon as she herself closed her eyes. They departed their palms from one and another, lady moving on instinct than command and Demon knew what is happening. Air between the two started to warp but, not maneuver it did. For a while, there was almost complete stillness.
Air started to compact between the two and take shape. Something from both, the demon and lady started to will the shape a form. It is... The lady herself standing opposite of the real one. The real, opened her eyes and looked at the other self. At first, she had questions but, as they approached each other.
Teenage girl understood it and the other her, understood her. It is her desire for strife, the disguise most cunning, declaration of her passion and the form of her anger to get revenge. The other her disappeared and the real young woman blinked few times. She started to change and shook violently a bit. She took a deep breath and took her other form, she just saw.
The Demon chuckled, what most wonderful piece of vengeance and so, the plan is set on motion. The lady finally calms down and looks around then at herself. "Woe" she said at awe as the Demon approached her. She quickly hugs the Demon for a moment which did catch the Demon off guard but, laughed it off.
"First, you must learn" Demon said and the girl nodded firmly and smiled warmly.
"You are the wicked godfather, one could ask for" she said and Demon interrupted by statement then started to laugh in more honest manner.
"Ah, you have no idea" Demon said when it gathered itself back together from the laughter and moved to begin the lessons.
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jpeip3f
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jped0ym
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[WP] A new species joined the ships crew. Humans, a bonded pair apparently. One day we were boarded by pirates and the two became separated, I have never seen destruction performed like what this human did, to get back to his mate.
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Darren turned to me. "Give me that weapon, Zevorth," he demanded
I looked at him, stunned. He'd never spoken to me in such a tone.
"No, Darren. I cannot. Protocol demands we wait until they disembark. Seal the ship, then contact command and await rescue. You also do not have clearance nor training for this weapon. "
"Damn it, Zevorth, if you don't give me that weapon now, I will have to go empty-handed, and that's going to take too long! I need to get to her. I know she can deal with them, but I don't want her to think I've abandoned her!"
"Urm... what?" I ask, absolutely puzzled as to what Darren was saying
"For gods sake," Darren yelled as he lunged and grabbed the ritack from my chest fix. I tried to grab it from him, but he turned, lept, and ran toward the sub tunnel all in 1 smooth motion.
"Darren! Halt! Stop him!" I yelled to the other crew who had frozen in confusion over the whole situation. Everyone rushed into the sub tunnel behind me as we ran after the human male.
Humans were fast. Faster than all of us. The muscles in their lower limb structure lent them an explosive speed compared to most other species in the galaxy. There was no way we would catch him. I just had to hope we didn't end up stuck near the outer shell when the Pirates unclamped the ship seal, and we all ended up in the vaccum of space. I had to try.
"Darren!" I yelled."Please come back! We'll pay the ransom they'll ask for Nancy. We'll get her back!" I lied, hoping he'd believe me.
Bizzarely, he laughed. "That's not the way this works." He yelled over his shoulder as he kept running he skidded to a stop at the junction, having something ahead we couldn't see. He lifted the ritack and started firing. What happened next was approximately the 12 most mouth opening, brain searing, and kardesh scrambling flets I've ever experienced. He ended the lives of 14 Azrith Pirates. 14! In 12 flets! When the ritack didn't fire, he used it as a club. When he hit one of them too hard and lost it, he resorted to using his limbs and his head! All the crew and I could do was stand, frozen in the sub tunnel entrance, and stare in shock. It was over as quickly as it started.
"NANCY!" Darren yelled, dashing forward through to the next junction. We all jolted as if suddenly electrocuted to life and tried to rush through whilst also avoiding the bodies on the ground.
"Dal! Hand me the flit wrench there, please. I've almost got it, " Nancy said whilst pointing at the emergency tool kit on the wall. She had two wires in her hand that looked like they came from the Pirate ship door. There were 10 Pirates on the floor around the room. All dead.
Darren grabbed the tool she asked for and ran to her, handing it over and pressing his mouth to hers. She seemed to allow it for a second before she pushed him off.
"Not now, lover. I got a ship to seal and a ship to steal, " she said as she fed wires into a control panel and started hitting buttons with the hand holding the flit wrench.
"Um, Nancy? What are you doing?" I asked, unsure what had happened before we got here or even what was happening now
"I'm slaving their ship to ours, Zev. I'm also going to make sure I can stabilise it so we don't decompress"
"Um? Right, but protocol demands we wait until they disembark. Seal the ship. Call command. Await, rescue."
Nancy snorted and looked at Darren. "Can you deal with this, lover. I'm a bit busy. " "Sure thing, hon, " Darren said, turning to us.
"Zevorth, does it look like they'll be disembarking any time soon?"
"Ah. Well. No."
"Right. So that's one less thing to worry about. Do we need rescuing?"
"Um?" I wasn't actually sure if the Pirates had done any damage
"We don't, Zev. Ship's fine, excpet for this hole, that is about to become an extra part of the ship. All systems are operational, and once I've slaved their ship to us, the seal will link. I'll weld it all before we move to give it an added bit of stability, " Nancy said whilst never stopping what she was doing nor taking her eyes off the unit she was fiddling with.
"Right," said Darren, "so we probably don't need to do anything other than make a note of it, do we?"
I glanced at the crew. They all seemed as bewildered as I felt, not knowing where to look, at Nancy, at Darren, at the other ship we could see into, at the dead pirates scattered around or at me. "Well, um, I'm not really sure what the protocol is here. I must ask, Nancy? How do you know the ship is ok?"
"Hmm? Oh. That was the first thing I checked when I was done with this. " she pointed at the dead pirates. "I thought you weren't coming," she glanced at Darren.
"Leave you, baby? Never in a million years. I'd cross a galaxy to find you, and you know it. Luckily, I only had to cross a sub tunnel or two. " they both laughed
I felt more than saw the whole crew stare at them, agog.
"By the way, baby," Darren asked her. "Why were those pirates running back into the ship when I caught them? I thought they were leaving when they grabbed you?"
"Oh. Yeah. They were wusses. Don't think they've ever seen a human woman before. They didn't know what to do. Couldn't fight worth a toss. These one's I killed and the rest of them legged it, but I was more worried about making sure the ship was in one piece. I thought you'd take care of it for me, lover, either that or I'd have to come rescue you after. " she battered her eyes at him, smiling. "Anyway. Done. Zev, congratulations, you are the newest owner of that there pirate ship, " she pointed across the way into the other vessal. "I think we should name it The East Wing." Both her and Darren laughed.
I'm not sure I'll ever understand humans, but i think I might request more bonded pairs as crew for our next rotation.
r/justaplaceformystuff
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I have just quickly written this and the grammar is terrible I’m sure but what ever.
Humans, being one of the newest species to be discovered in the universe were somewhat of a novelty to the galactic federation. Very little was actually known about them except for rumors of their remarkable imagination and ability to solve complicated problems in extraordinary circumstances. They were told to come from a planet in the Sol sector of the galaxy that was vibrant and full of life despite being so close to the star they orbit. The most unique things about their planet was their gravity and proximity to their Sun. Most known inhabitants of the universe began their existence on planets with significantly less gravity and much further from their main Star making Humans such an anomaly. They had no natural armor or sharpened appendages and appeared quite defenseless to us. Never the less we welcomed a mating pair of them to our crew. They kept mostly to themselves and worked diligently on the engineering deck near the quantum field generator. They did this without the need of the protective gear that any members of the crew would need to merely survive. Apparently the massive amounts of radiation on their planet was a normal part of their home world. After our three cycle mining mission was concluded, and the ship was loaded with cylithium ore, we were heading back to our home colony when alarms blared and sensors lit up. We were being attacked by Tigarian pirates. As we were a small mining ship we had very little to defend ourselves with and decided to surrender to the mercy of the pirates. The Tigarian pirates boarded our ship and began ruthlessly battering the crew. They eventually made their way to the lower decks of the ship and found the two humans working in the engineering deck. “What are these creatures?” The Tigarian captain asked. “They are Humans the captain answered”. “Humans?, what are Humans?” He then grabbed the female Human and tried to drag her away. Astoundingly he had pulled with all his might and couldn’t move the sturdy Human from her position. “What manor of creature is this?” The pirate asked. But before the mining ships captain could say a word the male Human swung his soft looking balled up appendage at the Pirates head. The pirate’s head exploded into particles of black blood and viscera in an instant. All of the other Targarian Pirates turned and ran for their ship. They bowled down the mining ships crew and headed out of the section. The female and male Human gave chase, jumping and leaping ahead of the petrified pirates. “Wait, please, spare us!” The pirates exclaimed. The Humans showed no mercy to the pirates tearing off their tentacles and claws spraying gore around the ships deck until there were no live pirates remaining. “I tried to tell them what Humans were, but I guess I don’t really know” Said the mining vessels captain.
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jkxbz3p
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jkwr96z
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[WP] You have been kidnapped by a human trafficking ring, & it’s unlikely that the authorities can recover you at this point. Unfortunately for your kidnappers, your SO is a member of the Greek pantheon.
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Chains clanking, manacles restraining my hands against the back wall. My eyes are dark, covered by a blindfold, but I know my kidnappers are standing nearby, guarding me. I want to run, want to get away, but I know it's impossible. Even if I could get free from these manacles, I wouldn’t make it very far without getting kidnapped again. I’ll admit, I hated them. I hated these people who were keeping me and the others in captivity. Who knows how many others were ripped from their lives by their hands. Here I was SUPPOSED to be on vacation in Greece, and here I was SUPPOSED to be meeting my SO here, but no. I was stolen in broad daylight on a crowded street by a giant group of goons in all-black outfits, bound, gagged, blindfolded, and taken somewhere where not even the local authorities could find me.
I struggle some more until I feel a hard slap across my cheek. I hear a masculine voice say something in Greek. I don’t speak Greek very well, but I can understand the meaning well enough. “Stop struggling or things will become much worse for you.” he seems to say. My cheek feels like someone lit it on fire, but I don’t cry out. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he hurt me. I whip around and spit as close to his face as I can figure. I brace myself for another slap, but instead, all I hear is a grunt that might’ve been a chuckle. “This one has some guts. She’ll make someone a nice wife.” Again, I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, but inside, my stomach ties itself into knots. The sheer audacity of this man, basically saying he’s going to make me marry someone I don’t know, selling me into a relationship with someone who probably would only want my body. However, as soon as I hear him turn away, I smile to myself, because I know something they don’t know.
I dip my head down, my chin touching my chest, and whisper to myself “My love, if you can hear me, like you told me you could, please rescue me from my captors. I cannot do this without you, my love.” As soon as these words leave my lips, I feel a peaceful calm wash over me. After what feels like hours, but what might’ve only been a few seconds to a few minutes, I start hearing a commotion that ends abruptly; each captor starts asking who’s coming, but is abruptly cut off, and I hear people falling to the floor. I smile to myself, knowing my SO is coming to rescue me. Soon enough, I feel a gentle touch of warm fingers on my cheek.
“My darling, what have they done to you?” I hear his voice, a soothing whisper in my ear, as his cool fingers untangle the knot of my blindfold. I blink in the sudden light, and soon, my SO appears in front of me. His youthful face, pale as the moon, complemented by hair as blue as the midnight sky encircled by a crown of bright red flowers. Poppies, one of his sacred symbols. His eyes, deep blue like the night sky, look at me through heavy lids, as if he just woke up from a nap. He is dressed in a deep blue chiton tunic, with silver accents, and silver sandals, and from his back stretch large, feathered wings, also a deep blue, like the midnight sky, and streaked through with silver, like the stars. He smiles at me, and gives me a gentle hug. “I apologize for my lateness, my love.” As he hugs me, I look around at my captors, and they’re all lying on the floor in various positions, completely unconscious.
“What did you do to them?” I ask him. “You didn’t…I mean, they aren’t…”
He pulls away, and gives me a look that’s somewhere between amusement and pity. “No, my love, they aren’t. Thanatos and I may be twins, but it is he that deals with death.” He shakes his head with a gentle chuckle. “No, no, my love, they are merely asleep. They will wake up, eventually, after my son, Morpheus, is finished weaving them a mutual dream showing them the error of their ways.” He gestures to a younger man, fluttering above my former captors in a purple chiton. His eyes are closed in concentration as glittering threads flow from his body and weave themselves into dream tapestries above each unconscious man's head.
Hypnos turns back to me again. “Shall we leave my son to his work, my love?” I turn back to him, and smile. He takes me in his arms, sweeping me off my feet, spreads his night-like wings, and we soar off into the bright blue sky.
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I sneered at my captors. "You have no idea who you're messing with do you." A large brusque Albanian? Turkish? old woman slapped me across the face. "Less talk, more peel." Another endless pile of potatoes appeared before me and I begrudgingly picked up the dull peeler and got back to work. It felt like weeks since my credit card was declined at that upscale coffeeshop. It's not my fault that I didn't call my bank shouldn't they know that I'm in Greece from the location data in that app-thingy?
Greece, home of the Gods, home to my God. Any moment they'll swoop in and save me from this dull and dismal existence.
...
Smack! my withered hand slaps the upstart yuppie. I shriek at the confused and stupid American. "Less Talk! More Peel!" This is my kitchen and it will be run properly. Interrupting my diatribe is an explosion of golden light and sweet incense. I glower at a burst of light in the center of my kitchen. A ambrosial figure lined in gold and ivory steps into existence from nothing. Somewhere behind the magnificence in their glowing eyes is a leering quality. Looking for a svelte, sexy, young tourist who fifty seven years ago got caught up in an international potato syndicate.
Rage fills my heart and, like Diomedes of old, I slash forwards with the potato peeler gashing the God's hand and smile at it's terror and rage as it flees back to Olympus.
"Less talk. More Peel." I smugly state, tossing the slice of god meat into the stewpot.
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jbwsdmh
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jbw8jgj
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[WP] the Earth is ruled by your classic anime demon, lord and witches, who can destroy the universe with a snap of their finger. They think they’re all powerful at the top of the food chain until they meet real cosmic horrors from the abyss.
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"My Lord?" asked one of the Demon King's concubines. She and several other women were draped across the massive bed in the center of his chambers like the most lewd garden of sculptures ever carved, but the king was sightlessly staring past all of them. "My Lord, are you alright? You look... panicked."
He was. The Demon King, Aponacryss, destroyer of the free cities, conqueror of conquerors, the most powerful being ever born on this world, was panicking. His breath ran ragged, sweat drenched the luxurious bed in the shape of his body and glistened his skin, not from more enjoyable things like one would expect for a man lying in a bed full of many gorgeous women, but *fear*. What in the name of the gods had terrified *him*?
"I-I must go," he said, stumbling over his words and the sleeping bodies on his way out of the bed. He needed space, badly. "I'll return sh-shortly. I j-just need air, t-too hot in here." Despite saying this, he did not head for the balcony overlooking his empire's greatest city from the high tower his rooms were built in.
He instead walked quickly to his dining room and lit the wide hearth with a miniscule burst of magic that nearly set the wooden furniture near the brickwork on fire. He relaxed as the flames golden-orange glow danced upon the logs and chased the shadows from his sight.
*Squish*
He spun around at the noise of something wet, like greasy meat on a cutting board. That thing couldn't have followed him out of his dreams, and he was in the light! How could it have found him *in the light?!*
"The darkest desires lie beneath the heart," said a voice, deeper than oceans and more terrifying than any army the Demon King had ever faced, "and the darkest shadows lie above the hearth. What's wrong? Is the self proclaimed "Master of Shadows" scared of the dark?" Trembling, he slowly looked at the darkened wall above the fireplace, the only place in the room not covered in light. The shadows looked fathomless, as though the castle walls had fallen sideways forever until they sunk into the night sky. But there were no stars. He could not see anything in the darkness, but he felt watched all the same.
"What are you?"
"You are old; I am older." He was tens of thousands of years old! He'd watched civilization itself step out of caves and bided his time to take it for his own! Nothing was older than him but the stones beneath his feet! "You have strength; I am stronger." The Demon King had torn steel with his bare hands and smashed apart castle walls with his boot! His strength was unmatched! "You know this world; I know beyond it."
"There are only the stars and planets beyond this world!" Aponacryss responded aloud, disbelieving of this entity; it had to be wrong! The chuckle at his words shook his soul.
"Truly? Answer me: where did the life you rule and eat come from? The stone you build with, the dirt you grow on? When did the moon and sun and stars first light the sky?" He could not answer. "You do not know? I do; I *watched*." Aponacryss paled even further. One of his powers that had served him well was his ability to split truth and lie. *This thing did not lie*.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" The Demon King screamed. He could not breathe, he wanted to run but the hallways would be dark at this time after the servants snuffed all of the candles and torches for the night. His own light magic wouldn't be enough to push back the shadows. He was trapped here!
"I come bearing a gift, for the fledgling that calls itself a god and bears enough strength to almost be telling the truth," the voice said. Aponacryss was certain this would not be a gift he wanted. "Come now, I have yet to show my gift to you and already you spurn it? Such bad manners." It had heard his thoughts as though spoken! "I bring a gift of knowledge. What you decide to do with it is your own choice, and you may rest assured it is all true. But first..."
The fire snuffed itself out in a blink, plunging the room into pure black. Slick limbs bound him in place before he could react. Something gagged him as he sucked in a breath to scream. Something was pressed into his hands... a book?
The limbs were gone and the fire was back, warming his slimy flesh and illuminating a book that felt wrong just to look at. He had set foul curses on his enemies that made them beg for mercy and shudder in terror at the threat he may use them. This book felt more evil than even that.
"What-," he coughed, losing his voice for a moment. "... what is it?"
"I can feel your burning curiosity. Read, you will know in time," the voice said without answering. "My gift has been delivered, and I've had my fun playing with you. When the moment arrives, know that I am not the only one, and I am not the strongest. I wish you luck, Demon King." It chuckled at the title as it disappeared. The wall above the hearth was still too dark to see, but now he could at least be certain that there was a wall in the shadows. Aponacryss looked closely at the book he'd been given.
The cover was made of stone engraved across its entire surface with swirling and twisting symbols that barely seemed to have any sort of order. The pages were made of pale leather, thin, and shiny. The words were legible to him, but written in a script so old he thought it was gone forever. On the first page was what he assumed to be the title, "Ascension."
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"*-Well the writers keep writing what they write! Somewhere another pretty vein just died*!" Lord Ta Kora of the Underworld thought he had seen everything, this however was a new one on him: Some strange.. human was sat in HIS chair, singing. "*I've got the scars from tomorrow, and I wish you could see. That you're the antidote to everything, except for me*."
"Excuse me, human, but what are you doing at MY desk?!?" The man stopped singing and turned the chair to face Lord Ta Kora.
"Sorry, didn't see you come in." A grin was posted on the mans face, unkempt hair poked out from under the knitted snow cap and he adjusted his tie. "Care to join me? *Through the consultation of tear on your.. lashes! Burn everything you-*" Ta Kora grabbed the man and hoisted him up into the air.
"Do you have any idea who I am, boy? I am Ta Kora! Dark Lord of the Under world! Slayer of armies! All quake in fear at the mention of my name!"
"That's actually why I'm here(Mind letting go of the vest? it's 100% real tweed). You've caused a lot of ruckus as of late, and since I don't have anything else to do at the moment, I thought I'd came and see if your really as cruel as they say."
"I am going to kill you. Destroy you bit by bit, in the most painful way I know how! I-"
"Heh, If you could kill me I'd already be dead. Not by your hands mind ya, this being the first time we've met and all, but by your brother's. So far your clan's batting oh for six(Seriously though, your starting to wrinkle the tweed)."
"Those weaklings? Am I supposed to be impressed?"
"Sure you join me in my song before you also die? *In the end everythi-*" Ta Kora threw the man through a nearby wall.
"Stupid human. Trying to fight a god. Will they-"
"A god?" Ta Kora turned back to the chair, sitting there, now wearing an oversized black, long coat, sat the man. "You claim to be a god? There is only one god." The man stood up, a silver-blue sword appeared in his hand. "I should know, I work for him. He says your time is up."
​
​
Ta Kora's high commander ran towards the palace, or what was left of it. He stopped in his tracks, a man, a human in a black coat, stood on top of some ruble blowing on a bubble pipe.
"*So light 'em up, up, up. Light 'em up, up, up.*" The man sung softly to himself. He turned and walked passed the stunned commander. "He should have let go of the vest."
​
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I know this doesn't quite fit the prompt. It's just the story that popped into my head when I read it.
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jtj23ua
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jtiukrv
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[WP] Everyone on Earth wakes up with a number on their wrist indicating how many lives they've impacted. You, an unremarkable person working a mundane job, have a number exponentially higher than anyone else
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The wristband on my wrist slipped off. To be fair, I wasn’t being very careful and I was grabbing a hold of a man who slipped on ice, his coffee falling from his hand to splatter on the ground below. His hands quickly scrambled to mine for purchase and accidentally ripped off the wristband instead.
He was a coworker of mine at the company, someone I haven’t interacted with much but knew his name and still smiled and said hello to him. Once he regained his footing, his eyes immediately moved to my wrist to see the number as my smile became strained and I scrambled to cover it up- but not fast enough.
“W…Was that really-“ I cut him off shaking my head as I kneeled to grab the fallen wrist band off the ground.
“Of course not, you saw it wrong.” I immediately stated, sliding the band back on my wrist before anyone else could see it.
“No, no, I saw it right. That was really 5 million-“
“Nope, not me. You must be thinking of Mr.Beast. That man has a lot of influence.” I quickly picked up his fallen up of coffee to toss the now empty paper mug in the trash. Littering isn’t right after all and I like to make sure the area around our office stayed clean. I quickly moved into the doors of the office, hoping to lose him by the elevators even though he was trailing closely to me.
“Come on Marcus, that was definitely-“
“Ian. You saw wrong.” I laughed, waving a hand at him as my other hand scrambled to push at the correct button. This is going to become office gossip quick, as I can already see some other coworkers of mine walking up to us curiously as they need the elevator to go up as well.
“You aren’t some kind of secret celebrity though, are you?” He kept pressing. I tried to hide my annoyance, I didn’t want to make him feel bad I just didn’t want to talk about this anymore.
“Nope. I work with content creation and you know that.” I stated, shrugging at him as we entered the elevator with a couple of others.
“What is going on?” Alexandra asked as the doors closed, making herself comfortable against the railing of the elevator.
“Marcus has 5-“ “Nothing at all. Boy, this weather sure sucks. It’s making everything icy and slick.” I interrupted, giving an exaggerated chill. The doors opened, and I moved quickly, passing my badge on the door as I left Ian and Alexandra alone with 2 other coworkers as he quickly told them what was going on.
We all awoke with numbers on our wrists one day some months ago, indicating the amount of lives we have impacted- positively is what scientists have stated as if you negatively impact people the numbers go down although there is nothing below 0. Those with high numbers are praised and often are celebrities who do talk shows about how to live a happier, better, more satisfying life.
I should know, I’ve watched the videos a lot and even commented on a few of them talking about my own life and what I have observed around me. Often times during work which yes, I probably shouldn’t do but at my age I am feeling a bit lost. Apparently, that has helped people. Me, rambling about my own pathetic life, insights from past break ups, and more somehow has impacted people even though I’m just doing it in the comments section of videos or articles.
Which is besides the point.
Protection laws soon passed after companies were forcing people to show their numbers, stating that this is as protected as medical information and that an employee or person cannot be forced to show their numbers for a job, housing, banking, or anything of that.
I immediately kept mine hidden when it first appeared, showing that I was already in the 3 million range. Something high, but not massively so.
However, over the past couple of months the numbers grew to 5 million. Even now, it’s slowly increasing. I’m not sure why, as even with me counting the engagement from my comments I shouldn’t even be near 400,000.
I flopped at my desk and sighed, trying to reframe my mind and let that moment with Ian go even though I can hear the whispers, the murmurs, my name being mentioned.
What I do isn’t special, I create content for the company which can be anywhere from helping with curriculum design to a post or two about what programs we have. I’m not the only content specialist either, there are a few others. None who have the same number I do though. It confuses me, because admittingly they are better at their jobs than me. They have a drive for this position that I don’t and I’m only doing it just because it came along- but I can’t imagine myself doing this for much longer as this is definitely something I don't want to be doing in life.
I scratched my covered wrist, wincing as I saw how close I was to 6 million before moving the wrist band back firmly in place.
I sat my headphones on my head to drown out the other office noise as I opened a video about how to find your passion in life.
Even with impacting 6 million lives positively, I still can’t feel positive about my own life.
Maybe, one day though, one of the numbers on the wrist will be me.
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I was working a simple cashier job. Just hated it. Every minute. I fucking hated every person that walked in that store. I was paid to greet them and thank them. The other guy who took me off cared way more than I did about these interactions, and one time he saw me say “have a nice day” instead of “see ya later” and he actually thought that I lost that customer. Here’s what I think. I think if you give a shit about what the fucking cashier says to you, you’re an idiot. CLEARLY everything we say is stuff we’re paid to say, and it means nothing.
And the business I work for likes to think otherwise.
Well, so, clearly, AFFECTING and IMPACTING LIVES is a big part of being a cashier, I’ve been told. And you know what? You can figure out exactly how many lives you’ve have impacted, via a number on your wrist that everybody woke up with. What do you think? How many lives have I impacted? None? Well actually fucking 10 billion people. That’s right. It all matters. Greeting the customer when they approach the register. Saying thank yous. Saying come again instead of goodbye. Not showing tattoos. Each day I come into work, the number on my wrist goes up by another several millions.
You know what happened after I saw that number in my wrist? I can’t call in sick anymore.
My effect is too great.
My impact is too great as a cashier. I can’t go up a position. And you know what? It puts a lot of things into perspective. I wanted to go back to college, but then you realize, there’s no point. I used to want to be an artist or something, using my job as a cashier to pay for stuff. You know, impact lives through art. But the greatest artwork I could ever make still won’t impact as many lives as standing behind a register. You see that number on your wrist reaching the billions, you know, and every different path in life you want to take, you have to ask…why? Why be an actor? To affect people? Be a cashier instead.
In fact all would-be-artists are becoming cashiers. Their work has no purpose. Painters, writers, it doesn’t matter. What matters is saying see ya later and come again and counting the correct change quickly so the old timers don’t get frustrated.
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kr9g7nk
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kr8sqq9
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[WP] You are the supervillain known for having a proper work ethic such as giving incredible health insurance witg dental, days off, vacation, sick time, the whole package because one of your former grunts swapped sides for better pay. Now the good guy is wondering why everyone's switching sides
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I was sitting in the main room of my lair, behind the bar of what used to be an abandoned pub. Every lair needed a throne room of sorts for the villain to sit and monologue dramatically in. It added flair, added atmosphere. Usually the chairs were grand and imposing, dark and masterfully built to maximize the villain’s intimidation factor.
I had a stool. It was old and it creaked and there was something unidentifiable stuck beneath the cushion, but that was alright. It was still a seat, and I had practiced the elbows-on-knees, steepled-fingers villain pose well enough to make up for it. The bar hid the stool, anyway.
There was a knock on the closed doors ahead, and I looked up and nodded to the goons flanking the door. One checked through the peephole to see who the knocker was. Then he turned to me and shrugged.
It wasn’t Minuteman? I thought about this, then figured it wouldn’t be like him to come early anyway. No, this must be either a newcomer or a tardy goon. Either way, this would be interesting.
“Don’t let me keep you waiting,” I called, loudly enough to carry through the doors. “Come in if you’d like.”
The doors creaked open, casting a long streak of light across the wooden floor. Notably, the visitor hesitated before striding in. The goons on either side started moving, but I raised a hand, and they stopped. No violence, at least not yet.
The newcomer’s costume was an incredibly garish murky yellow, dotted with dark spots. What looked like cat ears poked from the top of her visored helmet, and a matching fake tail trailed nearly to the floor. The fake tail flicked.
…Wait, was she holding a notebook?
“Hi,” she started, in a voice that was high-pitched in a slightly irritating sort of way. “Are you Lobotomy? Do you mind if I ask you some questions?”
I blinked. “You barged into my secret lair just to ask me a question?”
“Yep! And I mean, I didn’t know how else to get in contact, and it’s not like it’s that big a secret.” She produced a slightly crumpled flier. “Got an address here and everything!”
I recognized one of my old adverts. Those things were still around? “I see,” I said, making a mental note to get some goons to take those down later. “Well, that certainly is this address. And you know who I am?”
“Kind of!” She rocked back and forth on her heels. “The big villain of this town, yeah?”
“Close enough. Are you new around here?” I asked, though I knew what the answer would be.
“Yep!” she said cheerfully. “Transferred here from Dublin half a week ago!”
“That’s rather far.”
“True that! But hey, work’s good here.”
“Glad you think so.” I checked my watch. Minuteman wouldn’t be here for another few minutes, so I figured I had time. “So what was this question you wanted to ask?”
“Oh, right! That!” She flipped open the notebook, whipped out a tacky, glitter-green pencil, and set it to paper. “So, the Hero Association here wanted me to ask why so many of their old employees are, like… ‘switching sides.’”
I raised a brow. “Switching sides?”
“That’s what they said!” She nodded quickly. “They said some old employees were joining your gang, and they wanted to know why.”
“So they sent a rookie to the lair of one of the biggest villains in the city?”
“Nope! I just thought it’d be, like, totally faster than asking your goons or talking around. Straight and to the point for me!”
“Interesting.” I checked my watch again. “Well, the quick and easy answer is employee benefits.”
I saw her pencil move across the notepad. “Employee benefits?” she asked.
“Correct. Good pay, plenty of vacation time, health insurance…”
She looked up. “Dental?”
“You catch on fast.”
“Fast is my middle name! I mean, not really, it’s Dana, but that doesn’t sound as—”
“I understand,” I said, raising a hand for silence. Surprisingly in hindsight, she stopped. “As I was saying, it’s likely just the employee benefits. Lost a great minion a while ago because he didn’t like the pay, and I figured I’d learn from my mistakes.”
The hero scribbled in her notebook a while longer, then snapped it shut and tucked it under her arm. “Perfect! That’s all I wanted to ask, really.”
“Just one question? This isn’t a joke, is it?”
“Not this time, sorry! Like, it was nice meeting you, Mister Lobotomy, but I think I should go back to the Association.”
“Well, I suppose that’s understandable. By the way, what’s your name?” She opened her mouth eagerly, and I added, “Your hero name, not your true name. I hope you weren’t going to say your true name just now.”
“Um…” The hero laughed awkwardly. “Of course not, why would I?” She cleared her throat. “I’m Serval.” In a quieter voice she added, “All the good ones were taken.”
“Well, Serval, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I hope you do not break too many of my bones when we clash eventually.”
“Oh, uh, okay! I’ll try not to, Mister Lobotomy!” She turned to leave.
“Just one more thing,” I said, and she paused.
“The next time you have a question?” I flicked a finger forward, and a small card emerged from the shadows and dropped into her outstretched hands. A party trick, essentially, but a fun one. “Here’s my phone number. Business, of course. I recommend calling this instead of barging into my lair for answers.”
“Oh, nice! Thank you so much, sir!” Serval smiled, nodded, and left.
As the doors clicked shut behind her, the goons looked at me. I shrugged at them, then checked my watch. I grinned, settling into my elbows-on-knees-with-steepled-fingers position.
“At the ready, men,” I said. “Minuteman should be here right… about…”
The doors burst open dramatically.
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"How" asked the hero.
"How did you bring everyone together, and convince them to participate in your villainous policies and mutiny?" he asked again.
"You hero's always operate under the fallacy that whatever society says is justice, but how can you verify that? How are moral codes built and followed? What is right and what is wrong? The truth is, I am doing what I believe is right, what I believe is justice and is for the betterment for the world. While you are doing the same. In nature, the winner is right. Society won many years ago, so their beliefs and polices are considered correct, but I will change that. Don't worry though, I know that's not what you are asking me, I will get to that, " as I say this, LionHeart stares as befuddled.
"The reason I can bring everyone underneath me is, I realized what the most powerful weapon in the world is, connections and people. How do people get jobs easily? Though networking, connections and nepotism. How do rich people get away with crimes? With their connections. By bringing people underneath me, and by making them work for me, I know I can accomplish a lot more than I would by myself. I learnt that lesson by witnessing all the failed villains before me. Honestly I'm suprised you didn't know about this, it's all over society, it's literally the poster child of capitalism, " I chuckled as I said this.
LionHeart stomped his foot on the ground hard, smashing the nearby floor tiles to bits, and through his gnashed teeth he said, "Enough of your games Temptation, tell me something I don't know. What mind trickery did you use to fool my sidekicks and the other hero's."
Seeing the rage on his face, I let out a boisterous laugh, "Holy fuck are you clueless. I knew you were egotistical and somewhat dumb, but I didn't expect you to be this big of a fucking dumbass. I didn't trick or fool anyone, I just did something you didn't. I gave them a great working environment. How is it my fault you didn't know how to treat your employees and colleagues properly. You call yourself the number 1 hero? God, you are sense. Get over yourself man. I gave them everything they wanted, and I provided them a good work environment. Now they can support their families and achieve their dreams, why would they work for you? Like I told you before, your hedonistic tendencies will be your downfall. While you celebrated you small victories, I worked on my communication skills, I learned to negotiate. Now look at where I am."
I could tell, the truth stung him, but moreso then the pain of being wrong, anger. I can see the anger of his pride being ripped apart, the humiliation was unbearable for him.
"Now this is a look that I think suits you perfectly. I love to see you reeling from humiliation. Now you finally understand what your employees felt like. Now everyone, enough with the chitchat, surround him"
With a clap, all the people underneath me surrounded him. I smile with glee, seeing my decade of arduous toiling, finally pay off.
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[WP] You partner in crime has pulled a gun on you. "The truth is, the game was rigged from the start." You know that very well, mostly because you did all the rigging.
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You'd think there'd be some honour among thieves, but he looked *far too* smug with that gun pointed at me. Too much for him not to be enjoying this.
"Alright, Miles," he said in a condescending manner. "I think it's time for us to go our separate ways. Specifically, me going towards luxury and comfort with the rest of our little gang, and you, well..." he cocked the hammer on the gun, "I don't much care."
I sighed. "So is this how it's gonna be?" I asked.
"You played your part in this little game well, but the truth is... it was rigged from the start. Frankly, I'm a little surprised you didn't see it coming."
"I did."
He tilted his head curiously. "That so?"
"Of course. Which is why I loaded your gun with blanks earlier today. I mean, did you really..." I smiled.
"Oh," he chuckled, "you mean *these* blanks?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small pile of bullets - all marked with the tiny little indent on the side. The exact marking I used. "I checked them an hour ago. Like I said - you played your part well, but-"
"Is that the same gun from yesterday?" I continued. He frowned and nodded. "Right. So, the one with the firing pin filed down. Good."
Carefully, without turning the gun away, he inspected the inside and cursed quietly.
"I could've *sworn* that- bah. Doesn't matter. That's why I brought *this*," he said and pulled out a *second gun* from behind his back.
I did *not* see that coming.
"By the look on your face," he said calmly, "I assume you didn't find this one. So with that, I'll-"
"I was really hoping you wouldn't force me to do this, but..." I pulled out a small vial from my pocket. "This is-"
"The antidote to the poison you put in my coffee? Yeah. I know. It's why I switched the cups."
"Was that *after* I switched them *again*?"
"It was before I brewed a fresh new pot."
"With the-"
"Poisoned coffee beans?" he interrupted. "Of course not."
"I was going to see with the coffee pot I laced," I chortled. Finally, the ball was in my court and-
A laser appeared on my chest.
"I don't suppose you've met Laura?" he asked. "An excellent sniper, I must say. Now, if you'd be so-"
"Of course I know Laura," I replied and watched with satisfaction as the laser moved from my chest to his. "An excellent sniper indeed. And *very loyal*. I told her to aim at me first - a little bit of theatrics never hurt anyone."
A second laser appeared on my chest.
"Theatrical indeed," he nodded.
"It would appear we are at an impasse," I commended him.
"Not... exactly," he shrugged.
"*Hey, uh, Miles? We may, uh...*" the voice in my earpiece sounded quite concerned - never knew Laura to be nervous.
"Laura, I suspect, has just realized there is a man in her apartment with her wife. A man I am paying quite well."
"That man is an undercover FBI agent, I'll have you know. It took years for me to arrange for you to meet him."
"Oh, he flipped. You see, money..." he pointed at the pile of cash-filled bags at our feet, "money conquers all."
"I know he did. Why is why *I, and the rest of the Bureau*, set up this little operation," I revealed grandiosely and pulled out my ultimate trump card - my FBI badge.
"Wait," he stopped. "The **fuck**?!"
"And now it's time for justice- wait *what the fuck*?" I gasped as I saw him holster his second weapon and pull out something far more sinister - an NSA badge.
We stared at each other silently.
"*Hey, uh, Miles*?" Laura chirped in my ear. "*Is- is this something I should've been briefed on*? *No one back at the Agency mentioned*\-"
"Did you say *Agency*?!" I yelled at her. Looking up, I saw my partner-in-crime turned traitor turned NSA agent speak into his very own earpiece.
"*The fuck do you mean* ***DEA?!***"
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My eyes adjusted slowly to the dim lighting and the seriousness of the situation unfolding around me. Cold steel pressing firmly against my head.
"So it comes to this?" I ask with a smirk "You are going to shoot me after all I've done for you?"
"The truth is, the game was rigged from the start. This is just business, this could never end except one of two ways. Your death or mine." Malcolm's hands trembled, he had killed before, but never someone so close to him.
The trigger squeezed, eyes went black. My head ached, the smell of gunpowder filled my nostrils. I blinked trying to focus, I was alive? It had worked, I couldn't believe it. The implant really did transfer my consciousness into his body on death.
Looking down at my own corpse, ecstatic would be the wrong word for what I felt. I better clean up this mess before people start to ask questions.
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[WP] You are known as the silent wanderer. Ageless because of time magic. You have lived longer then the oldest of dragons. Cursed to never being able to speak or talk in a way people can understand. But thats OK. Action speaks louder then words ever will.
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"Ah, it seems that fortune truly favours us today."
"D-dad? what's going on?!"
Wordlessly, the father placed a hand on his son's shoulder. Tough, calloused fingers rested snugly over woven cloth, radiating a gentle warmth that the son leaned into.
"Have no fear, Mason."
"But the dragon's right there!"
"And so it is." The father murmured. "But all is not lost. Watch."
It was truly a massive beast, coated in thorny scales that seemed to suck in the very light itself, painting its body in the shade of midnight.
Its wings moved furiously, a pair so mighty that each beat brought the grim tidings of a hurricane, and each step it took on scorched claws threatened to shatter the ground asunder.
And yet, the dragon was not advancing into the village.
Mason rubbed his eyes once, twice, and squinted.
There, standing between the village and its devourer was a single man. He was tiny in comparison to the monster, a mere speck that barely came up to its hind legs.
Dressed in a simple, torn cloak of alabaster white, stained with soot and dust from dragon's breath, and holding a short sword in one hand, the man was silent.
Both locked in stalemate, upon the singed earth that would host their wicked dance. One, a herald of death that paced with destructive fervor, and the other, a lone bastion that would not relent.
Mason turned to face his father, but soon found his head being gently guided back to the scene before him.
His father chuckled. "I know what you're thinking, Mason. But fret not, the man is in no danger."
"How can you say that?! The dragon's gonna-"
"What do you know of our village's legends?"
Mason paused.
And in that moment, as though driven by an unseen force, the man *moved.*
Hellfire burst from the dragon's maw as the man flew across the field with speed unparalleled. The flames chased hungrily, yet none could catch their meal.
*"The founding of Chrono Village was arduous and difficult. Our ancestors came here in pursuit of greener pastures, yet found naught but grounds of ash."*
Electricity writhed around the dragon's claws like snakes of lightning, and with a guttural growl it charged the man.
Sparking nails promised the deliverance of death, yet the man's blade denied them their purpose.
*"And it was on one day where they found a man wounded beneath a tree, backed against its trunk as a wyvern encroached on its prey."*
With elegant grace the man danced away from lightning's wrath, before scoring lines of blood onto its carapace.
The dragon roared in agony, sweeping its tail forth in a blind frenzy.
*"Our ancestors, though weakened by their journey, threw themselves forth to protect the man. With great effort they scared the wyvern away, though it came with great wounds upon their persons."*
The thick, spiked tail grew an armour of frost, and in mere moments had appeared to find their mark.
*"The man seemed grateful, yet every word uttered was lost on the wind, an empty vow that could never be verified."*
Yet miss the tail did, as the man vanished into thin air, only to reappear above the dragon's head, sword held high and cloak shining like the sun.
*"Soon enough, Chrono Village came to be, and our elders soon forgot about the incident. But every so often, whenever hordes of beasts were predicted to march upon our soils, they never did. Rather, their carcasses would litter the forests and lakes around them."*
And in that moment of time, Mason saw a falling leaf slow, as though plunged into a pool of thick honey.
The man met his eyes.
*"Save for one small detail: a simple piece of white fabric, that shined like a star every night."*
A thunderous crack swept across the field, accompanied by a violent gale. Mason clung to his father tightly as winds buffeted their clothes.
Dust and debris shrouded the battlefield in obscurity, but even when Mason's eyes itched and called for him to blink, he refused.
He waited, each second feeling like an agonisingly slow crawl, until the field before him could be seen once more.
There the dragon lay, blood pooling out of its head like a crimson marker, its horns ground to dust till nothing but mere nubs remained.
And laid neatly on top of its body, was a white square of fabric, illuminating the field in its glow.
\~fin\~
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When my quest for immortality burnt away my vocal chords... I thought i was done for. Doomed to a perpetuity of observation, some silent myth. A fly on the wall, nothing more.
Many hundreds of years have passed since that day. I pick up my cup and sip quietly. I have seen many things. I have seen people die more times than I can count, nor care to. At first, I was helpless to stop it. With no way to communicate, I thought that I simply couldn't do anything.
Then that old bastard of a monk found me. He showed me magic of the mind; psychic power, he called it. Its not much, but hell, images, ideas, emotions, and concepts aren't exactly words, are they? That day I met him was my rebirth. No longer was I content to stay a passive observer. I have cheated many times in my life. The first time, I cheated death. This time, I have cheated the gods themselves
Standing up, gently placing the teacup down, I look on at the bloody scene before me. And i speak without speaking, reaching out to every soldiers mind. I show them what awaits. Children crying for their fathers. Men swearing vengeance and never knowing rest. Pawns in a game outside their control.
While many would view what I have as a curse, I see it now as a responsibility. Though I am deathless myself, it is my duty to ensure that as many as possible live as long as possible.
No longer am I a mere observer to history
I'm sorry if this isn't my best work, wrote it out on my phone
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