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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
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[WP] You wake up by a dusty road with 1,000 Mexican pesos and a note from your Spanish teacher: "Este es el examen final"
|
"Éste es el examen final" leía la nota atada a mi pecho. Después de levantarme del suelo y revisar que no tenga ninguna herida grave me puse a investigar donde estaba.
Era mi último año de preparatoria y con un poco de suerte ya no iba a tener que preocuparme de estudiar materias que nunca me iban a ser útiles. Solo necesitaba un poco de ayuda antes de los exámenes finales.
Mirando a mi alrededor me di cuenta de que estaba en alguna carretera desierta, mi mochila estaba casi vacía, lo único dentro de ella una billetera con 1000 pesos. Como iba a salir de esta? Como llegué aquí? Porque tenía 1000 pesos? Que tan lejos estaba del df?
Lo último que recordaba era estar esperando mi turno para hablar con mi profesor de física para ver si podía hacer algo para mejorar mis notas antes del examen final. Recuerdo haber escuchado algo extraño mientras esperaba, la curiosidad me invadió y abrí la puerta sin antes tocar. El profesor estaba de pie recostado contra la pizarra y al parecer alguien estaba de rodilla en frente de el, me acuerdo que me sorprendí al ver esto y di media vuelta, y justo antes de salir del cuarto sentí un dolor punzante en la nuca.
Ayer lo único que quería era terminar la prepa. Hoy lo único que quiero es encontrar una manera de volver a casa.
---------
Ive never written before here and I'm probably not a great writer but I thought it would be fun to give this topic a twist.
|
I woke up with a major headache. I felt in my pockets and found some pesos and the note stating that this was my final exam.
No problemo, I thought to myself. I was in a level 300 class, and had aced all the assignments this semester. So I strolled confidently into the town I could see in the distance.
When I got into town, I was nearly dying of thirst. I went into the nearest bar.
"Un agua, por favor," I told the bartender. He got me a bottled water, and I used some of the pesos to pay him. As I was drinking my water, I looked around the bar and noted a little Mexican cutie. She caught me staring and came up to me.
"Hola, me llamo Daniel."
"Hola Daniel, me llamo María."
"Much gusto, María."
Noting my accent, she asked where I was from. I told her I was from the States.
"Como llegaste aquí?" - How did you get here, she asked.
"No sé, yo me despertaba en la calle." - I don't know, I just woke up on the street. We started talking, and talked back and forth for the rest of the night. At the end of the night, we exchanged numbers. I walked out if the bar feeling exuberant.
As I left, I noticed one of the Spanish professors from my college. Sidling up to him, I asked how I did.
"C," he simply responded.
"C?" I asked, incredulous. I had always gotten straight A's in school.
" You used the imperfect when you should have used the preterite tense. It's 'me desperté.'
I screamed in frustration. Curse you Spanish, and your two past tenses!
| 2017-06-29T11:12:03 | 2017-06-29T11:09:35 | 255 | 139 |
[WP] You see a teenage girl sitting on a bench in the park. She is crying. You ask her if she is okay. She looks at you and says: "You can see me?"
|
I loved walks in the park. I didn't go often in winter, I loved the quiet but there's something about -40 degrees, hurricane winds and blinding snow that reduced the natural beauty of the trees and river. But today it was barely below freezing and the sun shimmered off of the newly fallen snow, which was puffy and soft. I was bundled up with a hot chocolate in my favorite mug and getting to the end of my circuit when I saw someone sitting on one of the olive colored benches.
She had short brown hair which was messily hanging into her eyes which were red and tear stained. She was sniffling loudly and wearing a black T-shirt and jeans, she didn't have shoes on and one of her socks was dangling limply. I frowned and sped towards her. She didn't look like she was freezing to death but it wasn't good to be out in this weather with exposed skin.
"Are you alright?" I called as soon as I was fairly close. I was already taking off my jacket to give to her, I'd take her to one of the cafes near the park entrance.
"You can see me?"
"Yes, dear. And you shouldn't be out here in those clothes, you'll catch your death of cold." I handed her the jacket, which she didn't take. She did, however, sit there staring at me with her bloodshot eyes. I waved the jacket a bit harder, getting a little annoyed. It was still fairly cold and my good mood from my walk was wearing off.
"But no one else could. Maybe it's an old person thing." I bristled in response.
"Look here, little miss, no one else is around and you need to warm up before your brain shuts down. It's clearly started already or you wouldn't be so rude! We're going to head to that nice cafe just a few minutes along the path. So let's get going." I reached out my hand and pulled her to her feet.
"You can't touch me!" She shrieked, but more with surprise than anything.
"Don't give me any frivolous lawsuit nonsense. Hurry it up, I'm sure someone is worried sick about you."
"But... I'm dead."
"Not yet, you're not." I draped the coat over her shoulders and grabbed her hand, leading her through the park. I still didn't see anyone.
Suddenly a figure walked onto the path in front of us. A large, black robe billowed in the soft wind, but it whipped the wrong way, against the frosty breeze.
"THERE YOU ARE!" The voice was brittle and terrifying, only less horrible than the flashbacks of Vietnam that it summoned, "I THOUGHT I LOST YOU AFTER THAT HEART ATTACK. IT IS TIME TO GO!" The cloak moved towards me at a steady pace, and I avoided looking to hard at anything not covered by the hood.
"Look here, Mr. Death, sir, I need to get this girl to the cafe. Then we can go."
"OH, SOMEONE WILL BE ALONG FOR HER SHORTLY, SHE'S NOT ASSIGNED FOR TODAY. JUST A NASTY FLU."
"Who are you talking to?" The girl said, clearly oblivious to the reaper standing a few feet away.
"Just walk along the path, apparently I have to go. And treat your elders better!" At least I'd had another chance to correct some of that despicable ageism that was going around.
|
"Yeah?"
She wiped her tears and looked up at me, sniffling. "How?"
"Uhh...because...uhh..."
She giggled. "I'm sorry. It's just that" she shook her head, "you're not supposed to be able to see me. No one is. Wait!" She snapped her fingers and looked at me, wide-eyed. "Do you know Motarz?"
"Mozart?"
She shook her head. "Motarz!" She frowned at me like I had done something bad. "You don't know who that is?"
"Uhh...Mozart's twin brother?" I guessed, shrugging and grinning awkwardly. "Heh.."
She glared, but then her eyes softened. She looked around, like she was worried. "You need to leave," she whispered, not making eye-contact.
"O-okay, sure, uhm-"
"Now!" She hissed.
I stepped back. I turned to go, but her face was making me feel like she was in serious trouble. For some reason, I didn't want her to get hurt.
"Look, if you need help, I can-"
She stood up and looked me straight in the eye, and poked me in the chest. "You can't help me. You don't even know how come you can see me. You don't even know who Motarz is!" She flapped her arms, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked away and sat back down. "Just go. Please..."
"No!" I blurted out, before I could help myself. "There has to be something we...you can do. I mean, we can call the cops! Or, your parents, relatives, anyone you know..friends!"
She looked up at me silently. I was trembling with emotion, frustrated that she wouldn't let me help her and angry towards whatever it was out there that had made her feel so helpless.
I put my foot down. "I'm not leaving you."
She looked like she was about to speak, but then several sharp screams pierced the air and an explosion rocked me off my feet.
What the hell was going on?
People ran by me as I crawled to the side, trying not to get trampled by the stampede. The mystery girl jumped off the bench and began running in the direction towards where the explosion had come from.
"Wait!" I yelled, running after her, pushing against the bodies that pushed back and carried me further and further away.
Eventually, she disappeared from sight and hands were grabbing me from all sides.
"Let me go!" I shouted, fighting back as the cops restrained.
"It's alright, it's alright!" They kept saying. "You're safe, you're out of harms way."
"No! There is a girl back there! I need to..go..save her.." I panted, gritting my teeth in determination as more and more cops came and wrestled me to the ground, clasping my hands in handcuffs.
"For your own good," they told me. "Don't worry, kid. We have people heading over there right now."
Another explosion rippled through the air.
"NO!" I screamed. It was too late. Tears streamed from my eyes as I buried my face in the ground.
It was too late.
| 2017-04-17T23:33:45 | 2017-04-17T19:13:49 | 48 | 31 |
[WP] Your Spouse goes into the bathroom only to come running out 15 seconds later. Clutching you close they tell you they fell into another dimension and what felt like seconds to you was a 1,000 years to them. They now want you to follow them back because they have built a life for you there.
|
“Babe seriously, I went into another world! Like, I flushed the toilet and suddenly wham, these weird space time Gods told me I was the next chosen one and I suddenly got these powers? And apparently I have to defeat the next Evil that’s going to attack Other Earth.”
“Right, one question though,” I smiled, wondering whether my husband was having heat stroke after his football game with 'The Bros', “Were you doing a number one or two when you went into the toilet? I don’t imagine it would have been pleasant either way but pee seems like the better option in this.”
“Babe!” He whined, “I’m serious okay like, the space time Gods were literally about to whisk me to my mission but I told them that I had you and that if you weren’t with me that I wouldn’t even think of helping them. Even if they gave me the jazzy cool superpowers.”
I blushed, even though the entire situation was honestly bordering on insane it was pretty cute that he’d think of me in such a disorienting albeit unrealistic situation. I still pretty much thought it was just a hallucination on his part though.
“So when I told them about you they were all like, sure! The both of you will get your own mansion and enough riches and food to last a lifetime. Also, whenever we needed to we could travel back to this Earth and visit our friends and family. They even showed me the mansion and the riches,” he stretched out his arms widely, “It was like this big and this much money babe!”
I couldn’t help but laugh a bit. To be honest, our life was going rough especially since he had recently been “regretfully” retrenched (courtesy of the higher up’s choice of words) from his job of five years. A friend of his who still had a job with the company said they immediately hired someone for my husband’s job but paid the newbie considerably less. They could have honestly given him a heads up so he could have found another job before firing him.
I wondered whether this extravagant story was how he wanted to cheer us up a little and I smiled, “Fine okay, if this place really exists and I do agree on going, how are we going to get there again?”
He grinned, “The same way I did of course!” An unpleasant feeling had told me that that was probably how he was going to answer and I simply rolled my eyes as he dragged me to the toilet.
“Seriously, were you doing a number one or two — I need to know, if we’re going through the toi-“ He quickly cut me off, giving me a peck on the forehead and saying, “See you on the other side, honey.”
Before I could protest, he pressed the flush button. For a moment, I was just sat there and just as I was about to rub it in his face I felt the toilet seat under me shaking and then, a loud whoosh. Suddenly I was travelling through blindingly white and empty space, feeling a strong pull carrying me downwards.
“Fuck!” I cursed as I landed right on my ass. I tentatively stood up, rubbing my butt. I looked around, it seemed that I landed right in the middle of four threateningly high thrones, the figures sat on them hidden in shadow.
“Fuck?” I accidentally said aloud, my hand quickly moving to cover my mouth — I couldn’t believe my eyes, I was actually brought into another dimension? And, these were the space time Gods Kelvin was talking about? What?
Shortly, I heard what sounded like someone falling behind me and turned. It was Kelvin suavely landing on his feet, even managing to give me a sneaky wink as he did. That bastard knew I’d land on my ass and probably saw me as I did actually fall on it.
He then went on one knee, facing the highest of the thrones, “This is my beloved wife. I have brought her to live with me as I carry out the mission to save Other Earth.” I panicked and quickly followed suit, settling down on one knee beside him.
“Yes, good,” a deep gravelly voice that seemed to come from the throne but also seemed to come from all sides of the room reverberated in the space, “I will now send you off to your mission Chosen One, and I will ensure that your beloved will be safe in your mansion.”
Before my husband could reply, I stood up, “Excuse me Your Honour but, if I might say so myself, I am pretty badass at kicking butt myself. I could probably do better than your Chosen One beside me too. Whaddya say if you gave me some cool superpowers too and I help him out with his mission?” I acted as nonchalantly as possible, I knew these Gods could probably vaporise me with a snap of their fingers but like hell if I was going to let go of this chance of being a superhero.
“Hmm,” I flinched, the sudden sound of the God’s gravelly voice surprising me, “That doesn’t sound too bad. Very well, I shall allow you to wield the same powers as your husband. Do not let us down Earthlings. The fate of Other Earth rests in your hands.”
I saw a giant hand appear on top of me, and with a sprinkling motion, I suddenly felt a surge of power rushing through my body. Grabbing my husband’s hand, I looked at him and kissed him, letting all my emotions (confusion, happiness, worry and especially love) reach him. He smiled when we parted, grabbing my hand.
This, was gonna be one hell of a story to tell The Bros.
***
10 hours too late but I hope at least someone sees this :'>)
|
**February 22:**
So my LOVING wife Lauren won’t stop with this “bathroom dimension” shit. Today I went in again and nothing happened (surprise), but she keeps telling me every time she goes in it’s like a thousand years passes in some other world. I don’t know if the kids and I can stay. I mean, she’s obviously going off the deep end. Maybe it’s just a phase? I set up an appointment with a psychiatrist today, and she said we could come in tomorrow. God, I hope my wife isn’t going crazy.
**February 23:**
The psychiatrist said Lauren needs to be hospitalized. I’m making the arrangements now and hope this will all be over soon. She’s getting crazier every day. Just a few minutes ago, she came out of the bathroom very upset. When I asked what happened she got really angry and tried to punch me. Her eyes…they were different. Cold or lifeless or something. I woke up a few times in the middle of the night and she was just sitting in the chair next to our bed staring at me. Her breathing has definitely changed too. It's like raspy now. I think she's dangerous. I’m not letting her near the kids without me. She's definitely sick or something.
**February 25:**
Couldn’t write yesterday, because Lauren locked me and the kids in the bathroom! She was threatening to “burn the house down to end it all.” She finally let us out when the doctors came today. She held a knife to my throat while I spoke through the intercom telling the doctors it was all a practical joke. They seemed to believe me and now I don’t know what to do. I thought she was going to kill me. And, my God, the kids…I have to get them out of here. She’s watching us all the time. Noah keeps asking why mommy’s mad at him. And I don't think Mary's done any thing but cry since we left the bathroom.
Can’t get the kids out tonight. She’s walking around the house with that knife. HOW COULD LAUREN DO THIS???
**February 26:**
I’m going to kill her. Tonight. With my baseball bat.
**March 2:**
Mary didn’t pull through.
When I went to kill Lauren, she was walking in circles in the kitchen, but as soon as she saw me it was like she knew my intentions. She ran—like some convulsing, hellcat creature of the damned—to the light switch, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t see anything. Bumping into furniture, all I could hear was the sound of her running around the room. Tears pouring down my face, I swung my bat and connected, but it didn’t stop the sound of running. I swung again, nothing. I remember a sharp pain in my left arm and then having to hold the bat with my other hand. Lauren knocked me over and I was just on the floor there thinking I was going to die. Even then I wasn’t sure I could do it. But I did. I had lost my bat, but I managed to get on top of her and strangle her. I watched as the life left her body. Her blouse was wet with my tears. I don't know how long I was there just holding her body. It wasn’t until I found the light switch that I realized what I had hit first.
**Edit**
*AUTHOR’S NOTE:
If you are reading this for the first time and feel satisfied by the original ending (above), then perhaps you should stop reading. For all the fucks that like never-ending stories, continue at your own peril. This magic school-bus is about to go down a dark road and it won't be coming back.*
**March 3?**
It’s real. I had just gotten back from the hospital and needed a shower. Was it another dimension? I guess, but I don’t know. Physically I’m fine, but my mind is another story. All I know is I was there for a long time like Lauren described. God, Lauren! I’m so sorry!
There are things there. Tall and grey skinned. Sometimes they look like Lauren, or at least I think they do. I can’t really remember what she looked like, it’s been so long. Every time they are around me I smell burnt motor oil. Hell, the whole place smells like a garage or something. It’s not like Earth. Not at all.
Matte black surfaces are all around, and there is literally nothing to do but imagine. I’m convinced that my imagination shapes the area around me, though, because I’m almost always thinking of the kids or Lauren and I’ll see them pass by me or something. But it’s hard to tell. I mean, when everything gets dark, are the things I see in my mind or in that place?
I have to go back. I have to understand.
**???????? April May June June June June. June. MARCH.**
This isn’t Noah. It can’t be. I just left him, after all. He was there in the dark place with Lauren and Mary. Inside the walls I can walk on. Can’t go back anymore. Why not? I don’t know why. Must be his fault. That little fucker! I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to let this THING keep me from going back to my family.
Blood!!! The wonderful whelps wrought by what? Me? Yes! I’m going back, baby! That thing can’t keep me out now. I’ll feast on his flesh and throw his bones in the bathroom with me. All of him will finally allow me to go back.
| 2017-02-21T00:32:44 | 2017-02-20T21:14:47 | 32 | 20 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
The world is a stage, and life is a show,
My part is done, and I simply must go!
I'm no longer in costume. I've forgotten my lines,
Like the rear-weighted lofzoom, I'm dragging behind.
Though, I won't condemn others to the same fate as I,
You wield wonderful wings, so use them to fly!
I won't have you carry me, so don't stick around
Some birds like me were meant for the ground.
Goodbye! Au revoir! It's just half past three
A couple more minutes and I'll be home free!
Keep your chin up, friends, and try not to pout
Maybe I'll see you when you make it out.
|
I am sad
Sad I am
Have i gone mad
I might just have
I would not could not anymore
my life is just one great big chore
I try to dream but cant escape
This life that i have learned to hate
Ive rustled and bustled
and truffled about
With bad thoughts and worse thoughts
I can't drown them out
So think me a coward
if thats what you must
And this cowards body
will be turned to dust
Goodbye to you all
I can't say that i'll miss you
but don't cry for me now,
Because I'm fresh out of tissue
Edit: Formatting
| 2015-01-17T11:53:17 | 2015-01-17T04:21:47 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] Write the note you keep in your pocket, meant for whoever kills who.
|
Dear Murderer,
If you can read this then it means that you killed me. I do not like being killed. Being killed scares me. I would rather eat a peperonee pizza then be killed. Miss MacKenzie is making us learn how to write letters. I think that you should have killed Miss MacKenzie instead of me. She is mean to me and makes me sometimes sit at the front of the room. These letters have to be ten sentences long. Do you like pizza? What is your favorite topping of pizza?
Love,
Mitchell
|
Jokes on you, you worthless son of a syphilis ridden whore. You just wasted a bullet to get five dollars and eight three cents. If you want, the starbucks coupon is only expired by a few months. Tell you what, if you tell the Police you want my money, go ahead and ask them. They'll happily give you the rest: twenty dollars and seventy -eight cents.
p.s. Tell your mom I said hi, thx.
| 2015-09-06T20:49:04 | 2015-09-06T19:34:58 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] You’re a tattoo artist who has just opened up shop, business isn’t booming but you have a steady flow of casual customers, one thing the customers don’t know is that what ever you put on their skin comes reality. One day you say “fuck it” and go all out.
|
A small bell jingled as the door opened, and a broad-shouldered man entered the shop, “Welcome to Bound by Design!” Trace cheerfully greeted his first customer all week, was it Thursday already?
Trace opened the tattoo parlor only three weeks ago, and business had been meager, at best. He supposed the reason was that he was in fierce competition with other, more well-known and established, tattoo parlors in Shuhchester.
He directed the man, who didn’t have any visible tattoos, to a chair. Trace asked what he could help him with, he had already fetched an art-book containing examples of his art-style, “Here, please have a gander, see if there’s anything in here you like,”
Trace knew, however, that his parlor was unlike any other, his was something special. The ink he embedded in the skin of his customers were not only impeccably detailed workings of art, they also carried enchantments. He had never told his customers that they were being imbued with magical effects, he skillfully navigated the subject by making sure the effects would not draw too much attention to the individual.
He recalled one of his more casual customers who didn’t have any previous tattoos, a woman named Monica who had been down on her luck, she had just lost her job. She had requested to have a small four-leaf clover on her left ankle, in hopes to counteract her bad fortunes. Unbeknownst to her, the reason she had quickly found a new job was because of the minor enchantment Trace’s tattoo had imbued her with.
Understand, the power given by the tattoo is directly correlated to its size, placement, and Trace’s level of concentration.
The man closed the art-book without flipping more than a couple of pages, a shame, seems like the man didn’t like his art, Trace thought.
“This isn’t my first time,” the man said knowingly looking Trace in the eyes, “My previous tattooist died before finishing this,” he said and removed his jacket, Trace’s eyes widened in shock.
Trace considered himself a grand-master tattoo artist, but this ink left him breathless, “It’s… wow, it’s amazing, it’s a damn tragedy that whoever made this passed away!”
The completed parts were placed on the upper back and tapered off towards his lower back. From the top, his natural skin color faded into thick dark clouds, seven candled were lit beneath, in the pouring rain. Below the candle, Saint Peter’s upper body was valiantly posed with his eyes closed, holding a round clock with the clock arms pointed at twelve o’ clock.
Not only was it perfect, to Trace’s further awe, it also seemed to be imbued with enchantments, Trace couldn’t tell what exactly, as it wasn’t his work, but something powerful radiated from the man’s back. He could tell it was more powerful than any enchantment he had passed off to his new customers.
“Let’s cut to the chase,” the man continued, “I need you to finish this piece,”
If Trace was being honest with himself, he was excited beyond exaltation, to be able to continue this masterpiece, no matter what happened it would mean eternal glory, although what enchantments would come out of this combination, he had no idea.
“I would be delighted!” Trace said, excitement poorly concealed, “What did you have in mind?”
The man gave a vague explanation of what he wanted, leaving out details of what the completed work would look like.
Trace considered this for a moment, “Ok, that gives me some ideas, how much skin do you want this to cover?”
The man looked at Trace incredulously, “All possible surfaces, of course,” he grinned, “do you think you can do that?”
Trace had never done full body before, works like these usually required a flawless relationship between the one getting tattooed and the tattoo artist, and they had just met.
Trace pondered it for a minute, either the man had a screw loose or he was determined, to a fault, to finish the tattoo. It bothered him that he didn’t know what powers the man was already imbued with; or how much more powerful they would become after covering the entire person’s skin in ink.
He glanced at the man’s back again, there was something truly— captivating about it. Trace resolved and looked at the man with an artist’s hunger in his eyes, “Eh, fuck it! Let’s do it!”
*****
End of part 1? I have a vague story in my head for this, but it already turned out a bit long, so I might've ended it a bit abruptly. If there's interest I'll pick it back up, in any event, thank you for reading!
### [/r/NordicNarrator](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator/)
|
"Are you sure about this?", I ask, and the client simply smirks and nods.
​
I contemplated for a while. My thoughts conflicted at his request. "It would wreak havoc across the country, but is it's existence not what you have sought?". I felt excited, but my sanity was roused. "Should I say no? But you also want it" I swallow in frustration, even the mere fact that I feel conflicted, in itself, causes me to feel even more frustrated. I stare at the clock, "4:57 PM", it displays.
​
I let out a big sigh.
​
"Fuck it", then I started to work.
​
The next day, we were closed for the time, as per schedule, but I was still in the shop, alone, sipping a cup of coffee on the shop counter, late in the afternoon. I was awaiting *it.*
​
But even now, I feel guilt of what I have committed, this would surely cause a disaster of a huge magnitude, infrastructure will fall, the earth will quake, and its *size* will block the sun. However, it was at the request of a client, and I couldn't let this pass. After all, I can't tattoo on myself, it wouldn't work and it would not come to life. But I can't feel guilt now, the deed has been done, I've committed crime like no other but I will embrace it. Now, I should only feel sated, having gifted humanity a marvel of creation.
​
And so, I wait, and sip on my still-hot coffee.
​
It was 4:54 PM, according to the same clock I looked at yesterday. *It is nearly time*.
​
I take a sip out of the cup, *4:55 PM.*
​
I stare outside my shop, directly at the busy roads of New York, how fast cars zoom across the streets, but at times, stop in traffic, how people walk casually in the sidewalks, how disaster has not touched it, *yet. 4:56 PM.*
​
I take one last sip from my coffee, and indulge in its taste as I empty the cup on hand. *4:57 PM*. It is time.
​
I hear huge crashes of buildings, the earth shaking, my shop quaking in response and the furniture nearly falling, but I stand firm. Debris is flying across the sky, as evident of the broken shadows I see that fall on the streets which I gazed upon. This goes on for about 37 seconds. And in those seconds, obvious screams were evident in the noise of destruction of its birth.
​
I put down the empty cup and wait even more. The cars in the street are driving more recklessly, civilians are fleeing to the right. But I still stand in the shop with hands on the counter.
​
After all those noise and panic, the quaking stops, for it to only start quaking again, it is weaker, but it comes in consistently, the ground shaking at constant intervals. *It was its footsteps*. *It was time for me to leave shop for the day.*
​
I open the door and start walking towards the epicenter of the earthquakes. I was marching slowly against the tide of innocents rushing away for safety, but they can not flee *its power.*
​
It takes me a while, especially with the sea of people pushing against me, but I made it. I turn the block. And then I see it, in all its glory. *My lord has stepped down*.
​
Its long, slender, dark hue of gray ears scrape the skies, it even scares me a bit since I'm afraid of heights. It is boasting grey with its massive belly of size, the ocean would certainly rise if he were to swim. It was certainly *big*. His arms, though long they were, were only long enough to accompany half of his stomach size at his sides.
​
Havoc has been wreaked. And he smiles, and it was the most graceful there was. The smile exposes his 2 great teeth that would surely challenge the mountains. I smile back. I was happy.
​
*For it was my lord, my big chungus.*
| 2019-01-13T04:05:31 | 2019-01-13T03:04:16 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings.
|
**And you're sure?**
Of course, I wouldn't have it any other way! I'm invested in our conversations.
**The conversations are limited. They only last for a short time, and afterwards you have no memory of them. What is the point?**
I suppose that as a mortal, living person - I'm used to it. I've grown comfortable with that arrangement.
**How?**
We don't have any other way to be. For us, as you know, it's all temporary, so every etching on the sand only belongs to the moments before it is washed away.
**What tragedy.**
Not to those within the moments.
**Your words remain perfect every time I hear them. And when I do, just in that instant, I understand.**
I'm glad.
|
I love my local park - being a big kid adult I can’t help the attraction. It is like everything I need to have a great Sunday is all in one place
Who can resist monkey bars and the weird animal shaped seats on springs and that circle thing with handles that you can spin around on
I learnt a few years ago to avoid the swings - hips aren’t as slim as they used to be. But my favourite is the slippery-dip. Why? Cause I fit for one and two, I can close my eyes and lift my arms and just fall into oblivion even if it is just for a few seconds
I’m not religious at all but Sunday at the park on the slide is like nothing I have ever experienced
| 2020-01-31T07:28:10 | 2020-01-31T05:04:17 | 77 | 42 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa.
|
*Well that was a bust...*
**C'mon. I know you really liked her.**
*I mean I did but...I guess she didn't feel the same. Seems like that's been happening a lot lately.*
**You'll find someone. I know your heart. You're too good to be single forever.**
*Yeah, okay. No offense but I don't know how much that's worth coming from you.*
**Thanks, dickhead. It's not like I don't know every single thing about you that there is to know.**
*I mean, of course you do. You're just a-*
**Hey! There's that bakery you love! I think you deserve a cookie.**
*No way. What if she didn't like me 'cos I'm too fat?*
**Don't be stupid. Go get one! For me.**
*Fine. But I'm working out when I get home.*
He held the door open for the woman behind him. She thanked him and made her way inside.
**I'm excited for this cookie.**
*Me too. Which one should I get?*
"Oatmeal raisin, please."
**Oatmeal raisin, please.**
He chuckled a bit. *Jinx!*
**It doesn't count if she said it.**
*Well she can't hear you.*
**Which is why it doesn't count.**
He ordered his cookie and sat down, reflecting on his date. He heard her thoughts too but after all this time, it was easy to tune them out. Millions of thoughts a minute ran through his head. Hers and his. He sensed nervous ones racing through their minds.
*You okay there?*
**Finally.**
"Finally."
*Hm?*
**Turn around.**
"Turn around."
He turned around and came face to face with the woman who had ordered before him.
"Sorry?"
Tears welled in her eyes.
**I finally found you.**
"I finally found you."
His confusion turned into realization. His eyes widened, "Do you...do you mean?"
**March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone.**
"March 4th, 1982. Blue. Mother's name Maria. First dog, Boston. Biggest fear, being alone."
*Oh...my god.*
**Last thing you masturb...**
"Last thing you masturb..."
"Hey!!!! I...I get it."
She laughed out loud and held her face in her hands, as if she still could not believe he was right before her.
*I can't believe you're real.*
They looked at each other until he gulped.
*Well please...sit down.*
|
As I lay awake in my bed, never once my own thoughts rang through my head, always those of an unfamiliar persons, I toss and turn as the voice rings clear as in my own head, "Turn around.... Did I find you?"
The color in my face drains as I stare at my wardrobe, *Please....dear God say it isn't so....*
"Oh.... It is so, and for thirty seven years..... I've had your sick perverted thoughts ringing through my head, and I am done." She presses a hand into my mattress climbing into the bed. "I really want to meet the man whose thoughts have intruded my mind for as long as we've been alive...." Her other hand lays along my chest and pulls me to face her.
*No no nononono.....* My stark white face turns and what I see is.... Impossible, sans the long hair she looked exactly like me, mousey brown hair, deep green eyes with specks of brown throughout, a sharp pointed nose with enormous caterpillar eyebrows. I blink a few times and have a tough time imagining why we were so familiar.
"You....look just like me!" *What the fuck....* My mind is reeling as I seem to stunned to say or think anything. My mouth opens and only a gasp comes out.
Finally I gather my thoughts, blinking a few times a thought comes to mind.... *I'm glad I'm not vain.....*
A chuckles comes from the look alike girl, "That would make this a whole lot more awkward...." I stare at her in disbelief... forgetting for a moment that one, she broke into my house, and bee, she can hear every single thought of mine.
"Wh....How did you find me?" I state with an abruptness that would put most brakes to shame. "Why are you here? Why is this happening to us? I've been on medication for something nobody understood for literal decades..... It never helped.... Your voice still shone through even at a maximum dosage.... Did you still hear your own thoughts? Too....many questions...." The color returns to my face as I reach up to grab my ears and squeeze away the torrent of questions welling up inside my mind.
Her face flushes red as she screeches, my what a noise... As if there is a microphone with terrible feedback....
-----
I wake up the next morning strapped to my comfortable bed....
"Turn around..... Did *I* find *you*?" A familiar, yet unfamiliar to my ears, voice calls to me from the floor....
=====
Thanks for reading, my first time writing... And posting here! Hope it was a good read!
| 2019-09-14T13:20:46 | 2019-09-14T10:23:14 | 45 | 25 |
[WP] The technician takes off your Virtual Reality helmet. The entire life you've experienced has been a virtual reality simulation of your ancestor. The technician looks at you and asks, "did you find out what you were looking for?"
|
The tech lady removed my helmet.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" she said with a small sigh. So many customers, all identical to her, all looking for the same thing.
"Yes, I think I did" I said, remembering the election, the smug look on Trumps face when he realized he had a 50/50 chance of becoming president. The grin on Hillary's face when she realized she had a grab at the power her husband had so wantonly squandered.
I stepped out of the virtual reality center, back to the destroyed Earth. Burned buildings, graveyards as far as the eye could see. The results of what they called 'limited war' but was in fact a massive horrific nuclear exchange that resulted in an almost dead, deeply radioactive armageddon world.
"Yes" I thought to myself, "in VR I'd found a world that made real life seem not nearly as bad".
|
"I... what?"
"Did you find what you were looking for, sir?"
"What?"
*Into radio* "I think we got a code 45"
"No, wait. I'm OK"
It took me a moment to collect myself. I still had no clue what was happening. I stretch and flew my muscles and feel something is different. My gut told me to play it cool.
*Into radio "Hold on that code a moment" "sir, did you find what you were looking for?"
I didn't quite understand. Non of this made any since. I tried to keep myself composed as I laid eyes on the soldier.
"No. I need more time. Send me back in"
****Very first prompt response. Stuck on mobile for a while. I knows it's flawed but would love some feedback for when I get back on a computer hopefully in the next week.
| 2016-10-29T00:53:11 | 2016-10-28T22:48:24 | 25 | 14 |
[WP] As a Demon, you're quite familiar with would-be mages making errors in materials due to translation errors. However, today marks the first time that someone has attempted to summon you with Cruelty-Free Vegan Blood Substitute™.
|
"cubavit lamia oriri, ortus ac dona mihi votum tuum, cubavit lamia oriri, cubavit lamia oriri", said Karen as she sat in the middle of her perfect circle of vegan blood substitute.
"I summon you lilith, my one wish to be granted in exchange for my soul, oh manager of the underworld succubus section!", Shouted Karen
POOF! A black green smoke arises from the lines of cruelty free vegan blood substitute in the shape of a pentagon.
I rise up and focus my eyes onto this short haired stern looking woman who seems very disappointed in my arrival. She screams, "And who in the Hell are you?"
"I am here because you called upon me! Lord of the weapons of destruction! Why have you summoned me wench?", I said, my voice booming loudly for which only she can hear.
"NO NO NO, i asked for lilith, queen of the night, queen mother of the vampires, hidden mistress of adam! I didnt call for yooouuu!", She said in a snarky voice, "where is your manager?!"
"The complaint department is underconstruction at this time, would you like to be located to the waiting line?", I said, "its at the back end of the river styx, requires two coins, gold prefered but silver is ok, and no damned patchouli or sage allowed!"
"Seriously, i have to WAIT?!" She screamed.
"Sorry miss, but use fresh virgin blood next time, you can do it now if you wish, just slit your....nevermind, im leaving have a nice day!" I said as i laughed outloud and disappeared into the green mist.
This is my first writing comment, how did i do?
Edit: edited for capitalization, attempted to clarify first and third person views, its POV from the demon with responses from the other character. Hope this helps, thanks for the advice!
|
Aleksandra knelt beside me, struggling to hold in her sobs as my second favorite pet slowly are away at her unborn child, again. I'd lost count of the number of my spawn she'd tried to bear, only to feel them die. She cast her eyes down and whispered, "I worship you, Sir." As she finished, I felt the huge summoning mirror chime. I turned to it, and, with a twist of thought, opened the mental link from mother to son that the filliphage made so easy.
*It hurts, Mommy.*
Aleksandra screamed, and I stepped through the reflection.
The scream burst into reality all around me, the sheer sorrow of it drowning the pain and the summoner's words. The black cloud of vapor.I had expected failed to materialize, instead sailing over the sigils drawn on the ground and eating them away. The ichor scrubbed the floor clean, leaving behind only the vague scents of chili powder and corn syrup. I smiled, showing more teeth than could actually fit in even my expansive maw. The little witch scrambled, the hem of her white robe stained orange where it had brushed the circle.
"Avaunt!" she cried. "By light and by cruelty-free vegan Blood Substitute, and by word, I bind you!" My smile widened.
"It was never the blood. It was never the sigils. It was always and only the sweet smell if human cruelty and human guilt that contained me."
Aleksandra knelt beside my bed, her forehead resting on the thick carpet. "I worship you, Sir," she repeated, over and over again as she tried to get used to the empty feeling. It had been decades since she was last not pregnant. On the bed, Laura curled around herself, sobbing. "I hate you...Aah..Sir" she spat, her back arching as the collar corrected her grammar.
| 2020-01-23T09:43:05 | 2020-01-23T08:53:56 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] You are a child therapist who treats extreme cases of children terrified of a monster in their closet. They're extreme because they're real, and you're actually secretly a demon hunter using these therapy sessions to gather intel on the monsters before killing them.
|
The stairs creaked as Rosie’s parents led me to the second floor. They held hands, the mother leading the way, dodging around the string that hung low from the dim light. We rounded the turn and came into a dark hallway that stretched in both directions. A nightlight plugged into the wall did little to cast any morsel of warmth into the space.
“Which way to Rosie’s room?” I asked.
“This way,” her mother said. I could see her trembling as I caught her eye.
“And you’re sure it’s best that Rosie isn’t here?” her father asked.
“Absolutely. I’ve met with her enough to know with near certainty that it’s something in her room she sees at night that is causing her extreme night terrors. There’s no need to expose her any further. I just want to see the space for myself before prescribing the proper remedy.”
The door opened and revealed a perfectly normal child’s bedroom. From the hallway I could see a small bed with light pink sheets and a unicorn comforter. Yet a closer look revealed troubling signs. Stuffed animals lined the bed, typical for a child seeking a guardian from their fears. Toys were strewn about, showing that the place of terror was also the place where she played. Combining those two typically led to the type of behaviors I had noted in our observation playroom. Shadows from the tree just outside the window danced along the inner walls. The closet across the room was closed and subtly barricaded with discarded clothes.
The moment I stepped into her room, I was grateful they had sent Rosie with a cousin for the afternoon. Whenever I entered a haunted room, whether it be ghosts, demons, or another power of evil, I could sense the mortal dread that emanated from their presence. It always brought me back to my bedroom when I was a child. Scared, alone, afraid of what the darkness hid. The evil was thick and tangible, choking even adults who were attuned to their presence.
I didn’t get that feeling until her father followed in after me.
“Yes, this about confirms my suspicions,” I said. I poked around the room for show and then made way out.
“W-what is it?” her father stammered. “What’s wrong with Rosie?”
“Absolutely nothing," I said. “I’ll head back to my office and make a few calls. I’ll let you know as soon as I have a final verdict.”
I didn’t wait until I got back to the office. As soon as my car door shut, I pulled out my phone and dialled. Some demons weren’t supernatural, and they didn’t need my services for an exorcism. Some demons needed prison.
“911, what’s your emergency,” the voice on the other end said.
|
"He says he's going to gobble me up one day, and there's nothing I can do about it," said the 5-year-old sitting with his uncomfortably shifting parents on Eliza Turnbaugh's therapy couch.*Fear and damnation,* she thought, *haven't had one this serious in years.*
"What does this monster look like, Jason?" Eliza asked, with practiced calm covering the anxiety bubbling up in her stomache.
"I don't know, he only comes out in the dark," Jason replied.
"That makes sense, monsters are afraid of the light. Do you have any clue what he might look like at all?" The parents were stirring, this meeting probably wouldn't last much longer before they inevitably cut it short.
"Well I've never seen him, but I know he has a tail because-"
"Excuse me," Jason's mom interjected, "but I don't see how you're doing anything here but adding to his fear by playing along and pretending this monster is real. I think we should go."
Eliza, expecting this, had a response ready. "If I'm going to help Jason, he has to trust me. Why would he listen to anyone who won't listen to him first?"
Dad's turn to object. She was probably losing this one. "We're not paying you to play pretend with our child, we're paying you to help Jason get over his irrational fears. What kind of therapy business are you running here?"
Fighting down a frustrated sigh, Eliza did her best to put on a professional smile before replying. "One that works. When kids are trusted, they trust in return. Now Jason, what were you saying about the monster's tail?"
"Well sometimes he-" Jason was cut off by his mother grabbing his hand and standing suddenly. "I think we've heard enough. Jason, take your father's hand, we're leaving."
Jason dipped his head as his parents pulled him out of the room, confused and deflated. Parents are so clueless sometimes. It's easier to live in a dream world where monsters don't exist than to accept the possibility that their children are in danger.
Well, his parents might be content to let Jason down, but Eliza wasn't ready to let things stand. From the little she had gathered, this one sounded like an extremely dangerous and insidious breed of monster, and Jason's life could be at risk. Eliza wouldn't be living up to the Turnbaugh name if she let that happen. Not when she knew what she knew:
Monsters are real, and they're everywhere. Kids are just the only people who don't know better than to talk about them.
Thankfully, Jason was her last appointment for the day, so she was free to do a little 'private surveillance.'
| 2020-02-27T09:18:29 | 2020-02-27T09:04:06 | 99 | 58 |
[WP] Instead of an email reset code, you are sent on a year-long, perilous journey through the Himalayas in search of your forgotten password.
|
“So you’ve come at last. What knowledge do you seek of me?”
I pulled the thick hood of my fur-lined jacket to speak to the mysterious old stranger sitting at the top of the flattened rock at the summit. I expected the cold to be something of a reprieve from the sweat of my total insulation, but instead found the cold burningly painful on my face. I breathed shallowly, allowing my lungs to acclimate to the freezing air. The stranger sat and watched, almost impossibly still. I wondered how he could stand to sit cross-legged in only a flowing robe.
“I forgot my bank password, and I want to deposit my checks on my phone. It’s really hard to get to the bank when it’s open.”
“...very well. Answer my questions, and let me see who you truly are.”
I expected this. Despite what I’d endured to reach this place-the climbing, the freezing, the endurance of the elements, the following of the old illegible map-I knew there’d be something waiting at the end.
“All right, I’m ready.”
“Let us begin. What is your name?”
“John White”.
“INCORRECT. You have 2 attempts left.”
The raised voice coming from the
“...what? No but that’s my name. Johnathan White, are you telling me I don’t know me ow-“
“INCORRECT. You have one attempt left”
I opened my mouth to protest, but caught myself before I could make the final mistake. I thought hard. I took in a slow, deliberate breath of the icy wind.
“Johnathan...
TYLER. White.”
Silence. Wind. Tension.
“Correct.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. After a year, it was finally-
“Your second question. WHAT...”
God. Dammit.
“...Was the make and model of your first car?”
Without giving much thought I responded.
“A 1993 Honda Accord.”
“INCORRECT. You have two attempts left”.
...I panicked. It was an accord, my mother’s old car. But was it a 1992 or a 1994 maybe? 1993 sounded right, I’m sure I was close.
I had to gamble.
“A 1992. Honda Accord”.
This silence was far more painful than the last. But finally-
“CORRECT...
Your final question-“
I’d anticipated it this time. If there was more than one...
“...who...”
Who?
“...was your childhood best friend?”
I hesitated. I froze. I thought I knew but...what if I was wrong? Could I ask for a hint? If I spoke would it count?
But I wasn’t going back now.
“Grant McDonald.”
“INCORRECT. You have two
Not Grant? During elementary school we’d been inseparable...but then I remembered the ugly falling we’d had out over Chelsea Smith in 11th grade.
Shit.
...well then.
“I know. It’s my sister. Katie White.”
“INCORRECT. You have one attempt left.”
I was destroyed. I was out of guesses. I thought about going back...
...and then it hit me. I knew. Or I had one last idea. Maybe it was crazy but...I think it was true.
“I didn’t have one. I was insecure and mean to people. The other kids didn’t like me. My parents liked my sisters better, my sisters liked each other better. That’s the answer. It’s no one.
“...”
Silence. The longest of all. I was shaking and sweating. I felt as if I might faint.
“...”
I closed my eyes...
“...YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN LOCKED FOR SECURITY PURPOSES. PLEASE CONTACT CUSTOMER SUPPORT MONDAY THROUGH FRIDAY 8 AM TO 5:30 PM...”
|
The icy cold gusts of wind blew against Thomas's cheek as he waded his way through the snow. His legs were killing him. His arms were killing him. If his hair had nerves in them, he'd pretty sure they'd be killing him too – numb from pain, exhaustion, and from cold.
The snow reached up to his knees and felt cold even amongst all the layers of insulation he was wearing. He was fairly sure that if he wasn't wearing enough layers to make an onion feel jealous, he'd freeze to death quicker than you could say "What was the name of the street you grew up on?"
Things had, indeed, been tough. The initial climb was alright, but things became difficult as bad weather began to set in – even the sherpa who had agreed to guide him up insisted on turning back and heading for home again, but Thomas insisted on continuing, with or without them.
He knew he had to do this, even if it killed him.
Thomas stumbled the few final steps as he finally found it, after all this time of searching for it. Set into the face of the cliff was a pair of enormous heavy stone doors, which he strained to push open, feeling as though he was about to keel over any moment if he didn't get sitting down somewhere.
The inside differed to what he was expecting. The inside was a modern-looking room, with space-grey walls and long tables offering various different devices that flashed with different prices and offers across different currencies, different languages—even ones that he was sure that he had never seen before.
"Greetings," said a voice.
Thomas looked to the other side of the room, where up a small flight of steps, floating cross-legged and surrounded by a bright white aura was a man with grey, balding hair and round glasses, wearing a turtleneck sweater and jeans.
"Erm...Hi?" said Thomas. "Um, look, I was told that I had to come here—"
"Welcome, weary traveller, to the Genius Bar. I already know who you are and why you had to come here. Seriously, you had to look up the directions here like, what, twelve times? Don't act shocked, kid, you literally carry a microphone, camera and GPS tracker in your pocket, what did you think it was there for? I mean—what, pray tell, is your issue?"
"Yes, I'm trying to change my password."
"It requires many years' training in-order to become skilled at the art of changing one's password. You must be trained in the ancient ways of...Jeedee Peeahr."
"Yeah, I deleted all those 'Stay with us and keep subscribed to our mailing list' emails, I'm kind of in a hurry?"
"Fair enough. What do you wish the new password to be, o traveller? Do not speak it aloud, for ye will have your soul suspended from this realm, and it's a real bitch to try and get it unsuspended. Just concentrate and know your new password deep within your heart."
"OK," said Thomas, closing his eyes and sitting cross-legged on the floor. "I can do this...it'll just be like Mom's yoga DVDs, except you're not concentrating on the yoga pants every time they do downward dog this time..."
He breathed deeply, inhaling the warm air and the smell of old wooden furnishings and packaging and exhaling it again, concentrating all his power until he could feel like was almost about to transcend and see the mighty Siri themselves and finally get around to trying that thing where you ask it what zero divided by zero is.
Suddenly, he snapped awake to the man standing with an iPad, the squawking of Angry Birds coming from the speaker. "Er, yeah, your password can't be the same as your current password."
Thomas said, very loudly: "Ah, shit!"
| 2019-07-03T16:50:10 | 2019-07-03T15:14:33 | 38 | 19 |
[WP] Following death, you woke up in a classroom, to take the R.A.T.s (Reincarnation Aptitude Tests). After a short period in the Afterlife, you get your scores... which were perfect, despite just guessing. You get to be reincarnated as a god, one of the first in a couple of millennia.
|
"So, I'm a god now..." I quietly spoke, a finger and thumb to my chin as I thought about all the things I could do. I mean, I had no attachment to my world anymore. I was dead for crying out loud. But now, I'm a god and to be perfectly honest I didn't really know how to feel. From what I had gathered, my family had reincarnated long before I finally kicked the bucket. My mother was a seeing eye dog, gentle and caring but still stern when she needed to be. My father had become a Chimpanzee of all things. I honestly have no idea why that happened.
I remember when it happened, when I had finished the test and was asked to be seated in another room with other people. One of them was a long time friend I hadn't seen in years. He apparently died due to a motorcycle accident. But, before we could exchange words, he was called in and then after another few minutes he stepped out. He was now a woman, their now dark brown skin in complete contrast with their previous paleness. They flashed me a smile before taking their leave. It was only after she left, my name was called and I entered.
What I didn't expect however was a room, completely white with a single long table that seemed to stretch for miles. On this table were many other people of all different shapes and sizes. When they spotted me, they began to cheer, and even though I had never met these people in my life. I knew who they were. There on the right side of the table was Hades, who stretched out his arm and shook my shaking hand with vigor, my other hand soon snatched in another shake by who I later found out was Thor.
"Yah made it, lad!" The Norse god of thunder predictably shouted at the top of his lungs before handing me a cup of mead. "We didn't think another human would get this far for another thousand years. But yah proved us wrong you glorious bastard!"
"I-I... What?!" I began to speak, not sure what to say. Why was I in front of all these deities? I didn't think I deserved to be there. "What do you mean I made it?"
It was then Hades spoke up. "You're one of us now, friend. Your R.A.T score was absolutely perfect. We thought we'd all come down to help celebrate your new divinity."
I let out a loud gasp. "Divinity? I'm a god?!" I let out. My face was a mix between shock, excitement and fear, something the god of the underworld chuckled at. "I really don't think this is right. I guessed on every one of those questions."
"Well," A feminine voice came up, revealing herself to be Ishtar. "The scores speak for themselves. If you wish, you can look over your answers. But I assure you. You passed fair and square. Not stop being such a baby and drink with us\~!"
It was when she finished, I was forced into sitting on my own personal throne, like everyone else. I was handed more cups, mugs and horns of alcohol. I looked up, and saw more faces. Zeus and Odin were arm wrestling. Aphrodite was sitting on the lap of a very nervous looking Jesus, teasingly twirling his beard with a finger. Hera was dancing with Loki, and even Satan was there for some reason that I was not aware of, already getting drunk off his mind while singing loudly with Thoth.
To make a long story short. I got fucking hammered. I was sure if I had drank that much while alive my liver would have exploded. But, I wasn't alive. I was more than alive. I was a god. I sat back in my throne, gazing into the empty whiteness of the surrounding area. I looked over to my new brothers and sisters, many of which had already passed out due to the excessive partying. Hades, having managed to keep himself conscious throughout all of this turned to me, and gave me a pat on the back.
"So. Do you think you know what you're gonna do first?" He asked, cocking a brow as he drank another horn of prehistoric wine. "You've got a whole universe to play with you know."
There I was again, with my finger and thumb rubbing my chin in thought. "... So I'm a god now," I spoke softly. I had finally come to this realization; that this whole thing wasn't a weird fever dream. I looked to Hades, and could see the genuine friendliness in his eyes, in all of their eyes. I soon smiled.
"Well, first thing's first. I gotta create a world to inhabit. Buuuuut, after a few more rounds."
|
When I woke, all memory from before momentarily blank and gone, my forehead bumped on my desk. The sound seemed to have been quite the commotion, for the people around me threw me glances that meant it all, that I had startled them at an important time. But I did not have a single idea where I was, nor what was on my desk. Not even a book, or a pencil case, in fact a white sheet of paper, with printed words in black ink I already feared, and a black pencil were all I had at hand. Getting the hunch it was a mattering test, I began to stress, for I did not seem to carry my glasses upon my nose — a thing that should never, by any means, happen when I was to take a test. Blaming myself, I could hardly discern what the sheet, that I had made slide so as to not further disturb my... classmates? Thinking that was certainly the case, I lost no further time guessing at the people surrounding me.
​
From the letters I could read, well... Shapes I could make out, knowing it was blurry as hell, it seemed the test's format was an MCQ. Its subject... As deep as I went "reading" the whole sheet, I noticed twenty questions, three cases, and understood the terms: rebirth — repent — empathy — morality — selfless... Twisting, all the while puzzled, those words in a way to make sense of the sheet's subject, for the title of the sheet, though in bold and very big letters I could hardly guess at most of its letters, I came up with three plausible interpretations. Perhaps, thought I, the subject could be about religions, philosophy, or even literature. Guessing that the answer would maybe concern one of the three cases each, and letting my luck roll, I gave myself a headache trying to calculate the probability for me to score a perfect result: I simply had to twist one third... —the result was definitely akin to zero, in a real setting. As I felt sweat descend my forehead, I passed a hand to wipe it. Then I saw, on my wrist, letters in an orderly manner. Those shapes too, I had trouble reading, but I found out three characters, As, Bs, Cs... Eyes beaming, I wrote the answers with haste. The second I had crossed the twentieth case, a bell rang and we had to hand over our sheets.
​
Then, I remembered. Why the hell did I sit in class, when I graduated from college the past month? Had I been dreaming? I recalled fairly well the party we threw, with a roomie... Then, the reality struck me. The car, in the dead of night... Had I... Died? The second instant a blank emptied my mind, all I gazed at was a white sheet of... Ceiling now? And why did heads sprawl over me — hands too? I muttered a few words of frustration and startled everyone. Since when did it become a habit of mine? Then I paid two dressed ears to the noise that surrounded, and the person I guessed to be a surgeon asked me if I... lived? I mouthed the absurdity of it, but the surgeon assured me, with an astounded tone, my heart had been transplanted since my presumed death. Awfully skeptical, I ran near my heart two eager hands to prove and call out his hoax, but my chest was open, and... Hollow?
​
Nay, nay, nay, thought I. This is not how the world works. Brain of mine, I voiced, you on ice? Dreamish maybe? Well, wake and doze right then, because you're weird. The surgeon, convinced by this hypothesis, adopted a scientific method, pinching his nose. The vivid pain made him squeak. I imitated him, pinching my nose, thinking perhaps it was only my brain that could free him. But then, reality struck me with an odd feel: I could see clearly — without glasses. Naked but for the attire the hospital gave patients of surgery, I hardly felt no pain. I gazed at the surgeon and... His face charmed me, as if infatuation struck. However, this love I felt, I now felt it for the world, as if I now deemed the world in existence lovely, purely appreciable, worthy. Not a worry in the world hampered my mind, and no hurt would strike me now. Lifting myself with the ease of the world, as the attire I had been covered with fell and as I stood on my feet, I ran to the doctor, arms wide. Then, I snuggled to him, loving life, the world, and him.
| 2019-07-22T12:48:59 | 2019-07-22T07:29:51 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
It was 11:56am, on the 6th of November, 2018. The family had gathered around, Uncle Leon and his boyfriend David, my Mum and most importantly; my sister.
My Uncle had been given ***COLLECTOR*** and spent the majority of his life as a Tax Collector, in and out of offices and working with Trackers for the New Earth Government. My Grandfather was given ***SOLDIER*** and he fought during the Vietnam War and served his entire career in the Army while my mother was given ***INSPIRE***, through the hardships she experienced in life she would one day go on to become a world-renown philanthropist and built a successful business to help others in need.
11:57...
"I can't wait to see what you'll get! I hope it'll be Hero or Protector, imagine that, having a big brother as a hero!" Exclaimed my sister,
I chuckled, "Don't get too ahead of yourself."
11:58...
I looked up to see people I'd known and loved during my 18-year tenure on this world and I was only two minutes from discovering my future.
11:59...
My Uncle came over and shook my hand, "Whatever happens mate, we'll love you no matter what."
I smiled in return and closed my eyes, ready for the big moment.
12:00...
I gritted my teeth, feeling the burning sensation as the word was etched into my arm. I opened my eyes to see my family, standing there, terrified. I slowly tilted my head downwards and saw five letters sitting there;
***DEATH***
My mum broke down, years of working hard to give us, her kids a better life gone to waste. My Uncle started to walk over as I felt yet another sensation in my arm...
"Oh my God... Look!"
Afraid to see what awaited me, I looked down at my arm once more and what I saw... I will never forget.
***DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS***
EDIT: This is my first WP so go nice please :)
|
"Hey Elena, your birthday's next week right?"
"Yeah, Jason."
"So do you think it will happen?"
"I don't know. My dad's got a number like most everyone else but my mom has a number and a letter. We might be getting closer to figuring out what the birthday messages mean."
"My dad doesn't think they mean anything."
"I sort of hope he is right. I mean it just seems like it can't be good, right?"
"Well, let us know! See you after."
-----
Birthday Reveal
It wasn't a big deal in the Lazarus house. Elena had to stuff to do then anyway. They'd celebrate her birthday, but her real friends and her family didn't believe in worrying about (or all this carrying on) about some scar tissue. That's all it was really, this weird biological process that happened. It was like the patterns on butterflies. It didn't have to mean anything.
She was alone when it happened. She saw it appear. The number three. She could live with that. A perfectly respectable number. There were three people in her family. But there was more. A zero. That was unusual, but still that seemed fine. It was a little far away from the three but no big deal. Suddenly, she felt a blinding pain. She couldn't keep her eyes open anymore. She swayed on her feet. Then just as suddenly she came out of what felt like a long trance but had only been a minute to find two letters. L and V. Along with the numbers they did send a message. A message open to some interpretation but it seemed good: L0V3. She knew her life would change very soon and forever. She couldn't hide love. How could she? But this wasn't all good. There was no message that could be all good. She just hoped she wouldn't have to be willing to die for love. Was the world ready for an ambiguous message of love from a young, black woman? She was about to find out.
| 2017-03-16T02:18:58 | 2017-03-15T22:51:26 | 212 | 39 |
[WP] You won't hold heroes hostages to torture them. You won't throw a hero against a wall once you have them by the neck. You sure won't start monologuing if you have a hero at gunpoint. You're the deadliest villain in history. A villian without an ego.
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They call hereabouts the Cape Graveyard, a city where superheroes and villians alike go to try, and to die. It's a really ordinary kind of place where anyone tries to do anything really big, they don't last long. It's a nice play on Cape Grave, the real name of this pleasant, ordinary town.
Me? I don't have a hero name, or a villain name, but they called me "Jinx" in school.
We didn't have school shootings, but the guy with a rifle coming for revenge tripped and blew his own brains out when it hit the ground and discharged. The Twilight Bomber somehow managed to implode himself after taking a class full of third-graders hostage, me included.
Too bad about Containment Lass, though. It was a really great entry through the window to save us until she tripped over a desk and got a pencil through the eye. Tragic.
Me, that third grader? When they died, I never felt better, like I'd managed to find my purpose in life without even knowing it, that something about the world was always going to be going my way. I took up a hobby every kid does in the age of supers- superwatching.
Remember that freak cascading failure in the Flying Brick's armored suit that sent him face first into a kiddie pool and he drowned in front of thousands on cam? I sure do. I was watching.
Stupor being electrocuted by a live wire in the middle of the night while hanging out on a roof? I was on the roof across the street, having a bite at the Skytop Diner as he was about to swoop in on a bank robbery. It's not my fault he grabbed the wire instead of the grapnel line.
Anacord tearing that car in half, only to be showered with it's cargo of metanarcotics and ODing on the spot? I was in the car that blocked it off just enough from getting through on the bridge exit. Made it an easy grab for his kill shot on Crystal Method.
Method should have checked his sound system before playing that victory song, though. Instant sinkhole and landing on top of that gas main? Charcoal.
Famous supers inevitably end up swooping in to save the day, and if I'm watching? It's the last swoop. Supervillians always getting on camera, monologue about how they're going to take over the world? You know how badly that's gone the last dozen times, every death a freak accident of superscience or magic gone wrong when it isn't some pathetic end.
I'm fond of Destrominator's minion tipping over that cup of water on a console just as he pushed the Domination Ray's trigger, causing it to backfire and burn out all of his higher brain functions. I'm even more fond of the last gasp it gave that turned Savior's noggin into tapioca pudding when he turned the camera around to tell the world they'd been saved.
I'm almost sixty-eight now, but I look like a thirty-year old in her prime. The docs say I'm lucky, must be a metagene.
I don't know where I get all the luck. Has to be coming from somewhere. Or someone. Six hundred, seventy-six someones so far. And you? You decided you're going to stop me.
I have no idea what went wrong, but that jet-assisted boost into low orbit was very impressive, if totally unplanned. Without life support.
Six hundred, seventy-seven.
|
The city was awake to the sounds of the sirens wailing all over. Lately this has become pretty much an acceptable affair. The city does have a tendency to shelter all vile and vice afterall, too much to do and so little time left to be always alarmed. Nothing fazed the city's people for long, a pretentiously ignorant breed of mankind. I almost hated it except I had no time for hate of that kind. Consumed as I was in my own venture of picking off the scum that populate this city's populace, I couldn't really judge it's people from a higher ground. Afterall having a higher ground meant you never understood what those beneath felt and thought and hence different easily became scary. I was scared a long time but not so much now. I assimilated easily in this place where I was born and grew up and faced the terrors firsthand. I knew this place better than any of those so called heroes who paraded in their righteousness and who argued and justified all their actions.
Heroes. Someone who does what is necessary in times of distress. As simple as that. Liked things simple, plain old me. But the morals went downhill a long time ago. I see distress caused only to be averted at someone's personal behest. To be a hero in times of turmoil after causing a turmoil. After being mediocre enough to be able to save only a few when all should have been saved. Not judgmental, me, but I don't like the taste of these ongoings. Time I took it upon myself to mend a few things here and there.
Repaired I always had, and created but most overlooked my inventions over flashier gizmos that were more showbiz than actual function. I didn't care for that I kept at it. Now I have woken up half the people because my inventions have wreaked havoc on some of soceity's most despicable places. The government offices and philanthropic institutions are all under attack. To stop them is easy, find me, ask me to stop, I will. I really will. I had already guessed which so called crusaders will come avenging the city at this juncture. Even if I am 20% wrong I still end up doing good damage to their pantheon. All of my inventions being designed to handle and take care of all those nutjobs.
"You there, halt!" a deep timbred voice rang behind me. "Who are you and what are you doing out here when the alarms being going off for almost 20 mins?" It intoned.
Ah, Shadow Lurker has found me. Almost missed this one in my calculations. A hermitic one this was. Good guy but not good enough. He had a weakness, his pride in being smarter and deadlier than most in the dark hours. Trouble had found me.
I thought about asking him what made him feel so secure so proud in this world full of surprises. What keeps this charade of bravery up. Well, not being a sentimentalist I clicked the button on the inside lapel of my coat under the guise of adjusting it against the cold and made it seem as if I was going to answer him. I didn't as there was no point in wasting words on dead ears. Belonging to a dead Shadow Lurker who lay with laser holes on the pavement.
I turned and made my way towards the safe house as another valiant pillar of soceity gasped on his last breaths. Had to hurry before my dog misses me too much.
| 2018-10-18T17:05:41 | 2018-10-18T16:06:18 | 1,237 | 89 |
[WP] In your world evolution is sped up by a million times so people gain and lose abilities according to their day to day work. Fishermen become deaf, firefighters gain another layer of skin etc. Your experiences as a will-do-anything-as work labourer sure are interesting.
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I slammed the table at the WWW Cafe as my home page struggled to load. I looked up and noticed that the servo next to me had me in his scanners, probably checking out my various social media profiles in that instant.
"If only I had become a servo" I thought restlessly. The servos, or server-humanoids as they were properly called, were always in high demand and well-compensated, not to mention the sweet evo perks and bonuses they got as part of their jobs. Anyone who worked with computers got all of the perks of the Internet, the endgame being immortalization as a digital consciousness.
"But here I am just struggling to not be put on a reserve" I thought, thinking of my various high school acquaintances that had been left unemployed, crushed by the corporate meat grinder that the world had become since the Quickening. If you're unemployed too long, you become an impulsive creature, evolving toward whatever animal best suited their impulses. Since we were year of the Monkey, the majority of my friends became apes of various sorts. But there was Jeff who became a sloth out of laziness.
"No fucking way I'm becoming a sloth" I thought, as my home page finally loaded and I was able to punch in a job search.
As the page loaded, an IM popped up in the corner. I opened it.
**Need some help?**
I looked up. The servo was still scanning me. It nodded.
I was weirded out. What could it want? This must be some sort of trick. I replied anyway.
**No. I'm just looking for a job, probably not something you could help me with.**
My search finally loaded. Then another window popped up. "Damn popups" I thought as I went to close it. Then another page loaded, and another. I paused. Then some sort of code appeared on the screen. The activity was happening so quickly I just stopped and stared. This went on for another minute until just one window was open. Another IM.
**You should apply for this job.**
I looked closely at the page, any reservations squashed by my curiosity. The title said "UNERC" and underneath expanded to "United Nations Evolution Research Council." Beside job description, it said "Experimentee."
My thoughts whirled. I'd never heard of this UNERC before. And experimentee? They'd be doing tests on me? What evo perks would I get from that? How do you evolve when you're having evolution tests run on you?
I sat back. Obviously Mr. Servo Creepo was still looking at me. It nodded. It didn't take long for me to sit back down and enter in my information and send my resume. After all, what did I have to lose?
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Bob Schwartz walked down the street to the house of Mrs. Bustamonte--a young lady whose head is so big that she is incapable of any physical labor. He walked, practically skipped, down the street. He, a man of medium stature with a body that is sinewy and unlike the other laborers who resemble gorillas more than they resemble your average young man.
Mrs. Bustamonte's house is grey and rectangular, like a giant shoebox, with windows on all four sides and a door beside the window that faces the street. The door is not a *door* per se, but is instead an electronic shutter that has cameras, ones with functioning mics and little speaker holes on the back, on all four sides which allow Mrs. Bustamonte to screen her visitors.
"Hello? Mrs. Bustamonte? This is Bob Schwartz from freelancelaborers," Bob said to the electric shutter as stated in the Additional Instructions for the job.
Silence. Then, "Ah, yes. Yes, please wait a minute, yes. I will let you in, just a minute."
Mrs. Bustamonte's voice was gentle and friendly; her pronunciation was perfect. A foreman's loud, ear-splitting shouts echoed in the street. The shutter started rolling up of its own accord.
"Come in."
Inside Mrs. Bustamonte's house, everything was white or near white. The shoebox-shaped house was almost entirely without walls. There were reasonable partitions, yes, for the kitchen and the bathroom and the shower, etc. but they were not floor-to-ceiling walls. The big-headed, pale Mrs. Bustamonte, in an ugly custom-made exoskeleton, greeted the freelance laborer.
"Sorry to be such a bother, but you can see I can't do much with this..."
Bob replied with a professional silence.
"Oh, yes, yes, the sofa, yes. Can you please move it so it faces the window?"
"Which one? I mean, which window?"
"The one to your right. I just like watching the fall scenery from there, it's beautiful."
Bob nodded and smiled. The exoskeleton-enhanced Mrs. Bustamonte returned to her study, still in plain sight, and started working on her computer.
Bob moved the sofa, and felt his shoulders increase in size. Then Mrs. Bustamonte looked over from her desk, thanked him, and made completed the transaction of Bob's fee online.
Mrs. Bustamonte did not see her freelance laborer to the door, and the faint click and hiss of the electric shutter was all the goodbye Bob received.
Once outside, he decided to go home and not do anything at all for the rest of the day. He followed the impulse of the average man.
| 2021-08-12T09:49:07 | 2021-08-12T07:57:19 | 45 | 26 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
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Conviction parties were tradition, so friends and family could come and see as your life was essentially laid out for you. Sometimes the word was a good one. Other times it was more dubious. But nothing was ever set in stone.
Every person's Conviction meant something to them. It meant something to the people they met and the things they would do. There were so many meanings you could give to your Conviction. Of course seeing your conviction at 18 shaped a lot of your life and the decisions you made and interpreted it.
Those born on the 29th of February, however, sometimes never saw a word appear on their skin. Of course they had to fit into the system somehow. Paperwork identified them by the number of years they'd been alive, but the Conviction line always left empty.
Leapers didn't have to follow a set path though. Scientists would be enrolled in college almost immediately after their Conviction parties. Athletes would be drafted into sports training programs. Leapers had freedom of choice, as well as the burden of it. Some places wouldn't even consider hiring without a Conviction, as they thought it meant you weren't dedicated to anything.
But it did allow they to follow whatever path they chose, even changing careers as they pleased.
And for those who made it long enough to see their 18th birthday roll around always celebrated together, telling old stories related to their new words.
But by far the most common words for Leapers to receive was
Freedom.
(edit: formatting)
|
All of my friends and family had gathered in our favorite martian bar, the drinking age long ago lifted after the great cleansing of the 2020's...Everyone turned their attention towards me as the clock clicked ever so slowly from 11:59 to 12:00 sharp, the first letters began to appear..
"I" followed by a letter "D"
Confused everyone started to murmer..
As the next "D" appeared I gasped thankfully, I wasn't branded to be an idiot at least! That was followed by "Q" and another "D" and no more letters appeared.
"IDDQD" I thought, what the hell could that mean.. That was no career, no purpose at all, it was just a jumble of damn letters!
As we all panicked and tried to figure out what was happening to me, the second word began to appear.
"I" followed by another "D" but this time followed by the combination "KFA" before the letters stopped appearing.
"IDKFA... IDDQD.. what the fuck man!"
As we were trying to make sense of the situation, and calm my panic stricken mother down, the general alarms sounded throughout the entire base complex. The UAC started broadcasting over the PA report to quarters in preparation of rapid deployment to Phobos, and further info would be provided on the ride there.
| 2017-03-16T05:01:30 | 2017-03-16T03:13:05 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] As a hivemind living on Earth , you work 10,456 jobs and still can't get by
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"Hey, Gary."
"Hey, Gary. How's Gary?"
"Doing fine. How about Gary?"
"Can't complain, kids are OK too. Gary had his first recital, and Gary's going to be starting at shortstop."
"No fooling? Damn, they grow up so fast. My little Gary can barely walk, I can't wait until he's breaking hearts left and right."
"Don't get too pie in the sky, I heard that Gary's kid Gary got arrested last week for getting to handsy with a girl."
"No! That's awful...wait, is that what Gary and Gary were talking about on the news?"
"Maybe..."
"Oi! You two Garys think you can just stand around on company time?"
"Sorry, Boss." "Sorry, Carl."
"That's more like it. There's a reason the Garys are the workers, and Carls are the bosses. Back to work."
"Yes, sir. ...stupid fucking Carls."
"You're telling me. Garys for life, am I right?"
"You got it, Gary."
|
How much can you take?
Feed the babies, you'll just have to feed them again tomorrow.
Secure the nest, you'll just have to post more scouts tomorrow.
The main nest got dug up by the humans, so we'll have to start building a new nest tomorrow.
How much can you take, before you snap?
Humans dug up the new nest, and poured a poison powder all around the soil. We will go look for a new place tomorrow.
The poison keeps killing the young, but it's okay because we'll just hatch some more tomorrow.
The young didn't hatch, because the poison got into the earth and stilled our eggs. We'll have to travel further away and try again tomorrow.
We found a new place, but all our food has run out and the colony is exhausted. We will start rebuilding tomorrow.
The rains came, and carried off most of the ones who were left. We started rebuilding, but everyone and everything is tired and spent.
Maybe it will be better tomorrow.
| 2022-09-22T07:23:32 | 2022-09-22T05:26:32 | 73 | 26 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
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"Going all the way back to my fifth birthday, I can remember the immense pain I carried in my heart."
"I understand how much you're hurting Jon, but I promise this isn't the solution to your pain and sadness!"
"You will never understand what's inside of me, or why I know that this is my only choice!"
"Why don't you just put down the gun and we can have a rational conversation about this.."
"A million rational conversations will not change the things I've done and the options I have."
"I promise you, with all my heart, that you have so many more options here."
"I'm just so tired of trying to make sense of a pointless, meaningless life."
"Just give me the gun and we can figure this all out together!"
"You come one step closer and I promise I'll pull the trigger!"
"You can't just end things and leave me like this, Jon!"
"It's too late for me to turn back now, Kate."
"God dammit, you put the gun down right now!"
"I'm giving up, and maybe you should too."
"I'm begging you not to do this!"
"I love you and I'm sorry."
"Oh god no, please stop!"
"Promise me one thing?"
"Yes, Jon, anything!"
"Keep smiling.."
"Jon!"
|
The brand of cough syrup John bought was not right, not for dulling down the day to a drooling stupor. Fun intoxicants were there no doubt, but so were other toxic chemicals that could quite easliy corrode the liver. Down the hatch it went, and have you ever felt a gust of wind smack with extra force? That is John's caution, carried away as he too drifts on toward a dimmer, more complacent place. A dab of drool dances down his slackened chin, a slow retarded walz of ignored spittle. Eyes glaze with shadow of ignorant bliss flick once, twice, and thrice to stay. What a distant good feeling world he is in with all numbnees ahh. Some guy is on his bed and he looks tired or dead. Not a problem for John as John is super good now. Like so nice and where is his pillow, under head? Ah and uh so he's in clouds and sleep. On to somethin how dreams awake but deep. That worked, he love cough syrup. Thick and gross it help. Pain gone, so long. The selfless song. I mumble. Farewell.
| 2017-01-14T18:59:37 | 2017-01-14T14:18:10 | 100 | 24 |
[WP] We are all born with a tattoo on our wrist, it reads the first sentence spoken to you by your soulmate. Your sentence: "Hey!"
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It was so generic. Too generic.
I realized pretty early in life that I had to do the opposite. Upon meeting anyone new, I tried to blurt out a new random factoid. I would have gone with stock advice, but the SEC had long ago considered that insider trading.
"Hey!", she said, trying to get my attention after leaving my coffee.
"Mark Hamill used to obsessively tape and catalog every Late Night with David Letterman episode."
What then followed was always one of three things.
1. Confusion, followed by me trying to explain myself.
2. Confusion, followed by them being interested in the factoid and carrying a short conversation around it.
3. Confusion, followed by them saying something along the lines of "Ah, a fellow redditor!"
But not today.
The woman opened her eyes in disbelief. She smiled, and started running towards me. She embraced me, checked my wrist, and kissed my cheek.
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to meet you!"
She rolled up her sleeve to reveal my Mark Hamill factoid.
"I can't believe that worked!" I said almost in a state of disbelief.
"I think I get it." She said. "You had such a useless identifier, you sought to make sure I had one that could never be misconstrued."
Now I was a bit bashful. I never really gave much thought of all the more risque and possibly embarrassing sentences that could have ended up on her wrist. She had to live all these years with such an obscure reference...
"But I have to say, it gave me direction!" She said.
"Sorry? I don't follow" I uttered taken aback.
"I figured you had to be some sort of Mark Hamill fan, so I followed everything he did with interest. 'Star Wars' and 'Batman: The Animated Series' became my favorites. I attended conventions and such, but no one ever said it."
I blurted out "Oh, so what your saying is that you might be an even bigger geek than me?"
"Probably." She said with confidence. "Come on. Lets go somewhere. I know a great little bookstore with a fantastic graphic novel section."
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"Hey!"
David's eyes popped up from his phone, scanning behind the Starbucks counter for the sweet, girlish voice that rang out. His eyes came to a rest on a beefy looking dude with a disconcertingly high voice, who stood waving an iced coffee in hand. "Daffid?"
He sighed, and grabbed the ice coffee from his hand. *My life is officially the worst.*
Every time anybody new greeted him with a "Hey!", his heart would go into overdrive. Of course the first word his soul mate would say to him was the most generic greeting possible. From a young age, ever since he could make out the words etched on his wrist, he was constantly on high alert. Overeager to meet his soul mate, he anticipated every new meeting with a person by checking their wrist before speaking, hoping to charm them with the correct soul mate phase. It failed more than it worked, but you couldn't blame a man for trying.
His social anxiety was through the roof. His blood pressure probably was too, with all these palpitations.
David strolled down the street, condensation making the drink stick to his fingerless gloves, lost in thought about his stupid tattoo, when -
"Hey!"
He whipped his head around, heart beating quickly. His eyes widened.
"Here, you dropped your wallet."
She handed it to him, all blue eyes and blonde curls, smiling. David froze, registering her face in all its glory. *Could this be her?*
"Th-thanks..." David mumbled, while internally cursing himself for speaking too fast. He didn't even get a chance to check. He tipped his fedora to her in thanks to hide his not-so-stealthy glance at her wrist. His heart beat in anticipation as he tried to make out the etchings, praying that a pathetic "th-thanks" would be scrawled on her wrist. Her tattoo was particularly large.
*Shot of vodka or tequila?*
His heart dropped. His eyes narrowed.
Of course this gorgeous girl's soulmate some awful Chad.
| 2017-01-09T06:57:31 | 2017-01-09T03:03:43 | 210 | 51 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million.
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A Thursday rain had not been forecast. As I walked out of the local primary school I saw the number on my chest, flicker. One had become 3 million. At that moment, not only did I know that the fad of 21st century fatalism had finally reached its peak, but I knew I shouldn't have voted Brexit.
(Terrible story, but topically relevant I hope)
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"Ah, at this point who gives a fuck," I mumbled to myself, thinking back on that time Janet called me ,"like, LITERALLY HITLER." dumb bitch.
I took out the rag from my pocket and began cleaning the console of the nuclear reactor. There always was so much dirt lining all those shiny weird buttons.
| 2016-06-24T01:32:15 | 2016-06-23T23:55:15 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] You're a thief who breaks into homes, but try your best to stay undetected. You lubricate the hinges to prevent squeaky noises, you sweep the floor to get rid of footsteps, etc. Eventually, you fix more than you take, and rumors spread about a mysterious, helpful fairy in town.
EDIT: Wow, didn't expect this prompt to blow up so quickly. Thanks for the responses, guys! Glad I was able to help inspire some writers.
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One of the things they don't tell you about prison is the shocking lack of entertainment options. I'd read all the fiction the library had to offer, and found myself stuck with nonfiction. I learned that evidently Home Depot wrote books now. And HGTV is the only channel that comes in on the old TV.
Tonight I'm glad for it, as I take a cautious step forward, easing my weight down. Yeah, this wouldn't do. A little talcum would stop the floor boards from squeaking. That left a mess, though. I swept it up, but a clean patch of floor was inconspicuous by itself. Had to sweep the whole floor. This place needed it too.
It was my second conviction for petty theft, I'd been warned to straighten out or they'd throw the book at me. I tried. I looked for a job, but I didn't have much for skills and I had a record. It was back to my old ways. Old ways, new techniques.
I emptied the dust pan into the trash can. That wouldn't do. Dust on top of a milk carton? A red flag. With practiced hands I tied the bag and replaced it, hurrying to the cans in the garage to deposit the trash.
I thanked God and Bob Villa when I spotted the black widow, hiding under the hand rail of the step that led back into the house. A small smear and she was in spider hell.
I managed to lift some change from the couch, and made my way up stairs. A squeaky step. No good, I'd be heard. It had to be fixed. It had to be fixed now.
I took out my drill and grabbed a.. shit. How was I out of carpet screws? Nope, couldn't go on.
As I made my way back to the house from Dale's 24/7 hardware, I thought back to my first days out. It had been rough, but I knew what I'd had to do. I had to muffle my drill, practice with the hammer until I could drive a nail without a sound or an elephant track in one swing. I could replace carpet, paint a floor, mop, sweep, wash dishes, replace a broken window, caulk a sink, hang a door... all of it in total silence. I wouldn't be caught. I couldn't be caught. I couldn't afford it.
Back at last, I screwed down the carpet, stopped the floor from squeaking when I heard something from upstairs. The telltale flush. The flick of a light switch, the swing of a hinge. I held my breath.
A child, maybe 9 rubbed her eyes and happened to glance at me. She covered her mouth the asked in a whisper, "are you the house fairy?"
Stunned, I looked at myself, illuminated by the light on my drill. Black clothes and gloves, harness, tool belt, hundreds of little pockets. "Uh... yep."
"I thought you'd be prettier. Could you fix my fan? It won't turn on, even when I pull the chain."
"Uh, yeah. No problem."
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Ironically enough, this prompt seems to describe me perfectly. I began thieving out of necessity, I lost my job and I really didn't want to live on the streets. I didn't have much saved at all, only enough for two or three more months of rent, so after about a month of blissfully lounging about, I decided I'd better figure something out to make ends meet.
At first I just looked for unlocked cars, but that wasn't very fruitful and I really didn't want to go through the trouble of taking an entire radio, especially because that's just crass. I didn't want them to notice what I had borrowed, so I would always polish their dash or wash the outside of their car to distract them. I really hate washing cars so that didn't last long.
The first (and only) house I ever broke into was enormous, probably 10,000+ square feet if I had to guess. They had a little mutt that I was worried would bark at me, but he didn't seem to mind me. It turns out he was a scaredy cat type of dog who didn't bark much, but he had another defense. It only took me about 10 minutes to clean up the pee, and by that time I had scoped out the kitchen and laundry room, and noticed a wallet sitting on the counter.
I found about eighty bucks in there, and figured that would suffice. As I was leaving I noticed how terribly filthy my shoes were. I must have stepped in mud on my way in, so I tried to wipe it up with a rag I found but that just wasn't working out so I had to get the mop. Then I left. Then I remembered all the dirty dishes in the sink. If I'm, well, stealing, (I hate to call it that) I guess I should do something to make up for it, so I went back in and did the dishes. And folded the laundry. Before I knew it I had waxed the stained concrete floors and disinfected the toilets.
I couldn't stop cleaning. Everything was so dirty, and I did take $80 so I had to do a lot of sweeping and wiping and polishing and dusting to make up for it. Before I knew it the sun began to rise. I didn't realize how long I had really been there, so I started frantically putting away the cleaning supplies when I accidentally dropped the windex. It wasn't that loud because it was just a plastic bottle, so I figured I would be okay. Then I started to hear footsteps. I was freaking out. What do I do? Where can I hide?
The light flicked on, and a woman dressed in a robe screeched "Who are you?! What are you doing here!?" Shortly thereafter a man sprinted in holding a bat. I don't recall much after that, but they told me I passed out. Anyway, my girlfriend had mentioned she wanted me to meet her parents, so really I had done her a favor, but she didn't see it that way.
| 2017-03-13T09:22:56 | 2017-03-13T09:01:48 | 68 | 30 |
[FF] Write a 10 sentence story where the first sentence has 10 words, and each following sentence has one less word.
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They met at the doorstep of anxious opportunity, alone, together.
Words, suddenly deemed worthless, were lost in mutual silence.
He shuffles his feet, constructing courage to speak.
She wonders what is taking so long.
He clears his shaking, sweating throat.
She checks her ticking watch.
His lips part dryly.
She glances up.
*"Marry me?"*
*"Yes!"*
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Quick, whoever you are, I need you to please listen! I am a scientist using an experimental time machine. But it is not working as we intended. We are being pulled back and forth. Into one timeline, and then back. And each time is shorter! Almost out of time... Please, send help! Oh no... Nooooooo-
| 2015-01-27T12:41:00 | 2015-01-27T11:28:50 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] “Aha! You’re here about the Fifth Horseman job, aren’t you?” says War, in a loud and jolly voice, “well I must tell you, Pestilence and I thought we’d never get an application! We’ve really been swept off our feet these past couple of years... Say, what colour do you want your horse?”
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"Blue will do just fine." The demon seemed to look straight through War, eyes unfocused and face drawn. "Though it doesn't really matter either way." Long lank hair clung to its skull, it's skin a bruised grey that hung loosely from its flesh. It looked worse even then Pestilence.
"You'll need to try much more to blend in with the humans you know," War chided. The being in front of him only nodded.
"Im... aware. I would have come sooner but I was... perfecting my craft." Its cadence was all wrong, drawn out as if it either hurt to speak or couldn't really be bothered to answer. "I've become quite... capable however. So here I am."
"We have seen. We are quite impressed, being able to drive people to madness with hardly a reason. Your hard work has been noticed." Death spoke up, hoping that praise may lift its spirits. This was after all, a momentus occasion. "But surely you know that, being the first to join our ranks since the time of Adam."
"I do... suppose you... would think that. Theres just so... much work to be done... now..." the demon fretted as it picked at its skin. Scabs littered the same area, as if this was done often. No demon of its standing should look this way, act this way. They were fickle, prideful beings. It unsettled the four greatly, this new horsemen of theirs.
"And what would you have us call you?" Famine prodded softly, eyeing it wearily. Being in its presence made the ancient one's skin crawl in a way that rivaled Pestilence. They seemed to be birds of a feather.
"It doesn't really matter... does it?" The thing met Famine's eyes and shook the horsemen to the core. "But I suppose... You can call me Despair..."
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"Grey coat with a slight blue tinge, mane and tail of a blinding white." I say, glaring at him. "The sooner you get me my horse, the better."
"Okay, and what will be your dreaded name?" War asks, edging a little closer. Not being the kind of person who communicates normally, I punch him in the mouth. He yells, falls back and hits his head onto the hard stone floor.
"Hey, what was that for?"
"I'm Pain." I chuckle. "I'm concerned the french will call me Bread but I suppose I could, uh, inflict the most unbearable torture on them if they do. It's kinda my job and I guess I will done mine better than yours. Look at the wars you made! Ha! It's pathetic! You are so lousy at your job that even an ant could start a bigger and deadlier war than you can!"
Tears fall down War's cheeks. It is evidently clear that I hurt him deep inside.
"Y-you are hereby the Fifth Horseman, P-pain." He whispers.
A while later...
I look upon those lousy humans- who were all either crying hysterically, maniacally killing others and eating them or lying on the ground and screaming in pure agony as they slowly died a terrible death. It fills my heart with great pleasure seeing them suffer.
"Look at them!" I laugh from atop my horse. Death pats me on the back.
"You forgot one country." Death says, pointing at France.
"Looks like they are in need of starvation." Famine chuckles.
"THE FRENCH! I WILL TEACH THEM NOT TO CALL ME BREAD! I HAVE THE BEST BAGUETTES RESERVED FOR THEM!" I roared, spurring my horse into movement...
| 2021-01-02T16:25:26 | 2021-01-02T15:43:44 | 112 | 10 |
[WP] When humans achieve interstellar space flight we discover that we live smack dab in the midst of several massive squabbling ancient alien empires. So we do the only sensible thing we could, and become space Switzerland.
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Lenore Hunnicutt was eighty-eight but very vigorous. She would need to be, as she'd run the tea room since her dear Alfie died nine years earlier. That was seven years before first contact, of course, but since then, the place had really taken off.
She stepped from behind the counter, drying her hands on her apron. Her niece, Lord love her, had made it. It had applique roses on it (Such a clever girl, Susan. Always had been. A shame it turned out her son sold her oven for drug money--he'd always been a little bastard), and she tucked a hard candy into the pocket as she stepped around, greeting the party of tentacled, oozing Nilbonians who'd come in, politely wiping their pseudopods on the mat.
"Welcome to the The Gilded Lily. Chair, sling, suspendo-seat or nothing?"
Across the room, the three Pplysks froze. One of them rose and roared a challenge, fanged mouth opening wide. The Nilbonians screeched back, flailing their tenacles. Well, thought Lenore, it's been that kind of day.
She reached under the counter and pulled out the plasma blaster, cocked it. "WE DO NOT--" Pew pew! 'TOLERATE DISORDER AT THE GILDED LILY!" She fired another warning shot, just in case, and replaced the blaster back into the sling.
Both parties froze. The Nilbonians drooped, tenacles waggling a sorry as the Pplysks squeaked and sat down again, drinking tea as if they hadn't been prepared to brawl not a minute earlier .
"Do you have grapefruit Earl Grey?"
"We do! Come sit down. Slings are fine?"
Slings were fine. She went back around the counter, humming softly. They weren't bad sorts, the Pplysks, and neither were the Nilbonians. Just excitable. She poured hot water into a china pot and carried it over, wafting the scent of burnt plasma and a ghostly trace of lavender cologne water.
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Earth was an economic powerhouse. When we first left Earth, we were a dying race. Years of ignoring the failing biosphere bit us in the butt. With time, we managed to fix the mess we made. We made nuclear fusion, bioplastic, nanotechnology, all the fancy stuff. Never once did we think the old ways would come back.
Upon first leaving the system, we were immediately confronted by an alien vessel. After a brief exchange between our AI in binary, we discovered each other’s identity. The ship we met were the Drumari Federation, and they thought us to be one of the other great empires. A brief exchange led to us receiving information before the vessel left.
The drumari were basically space elves. They are an ancient, but strong race. They even used nanotechnology to such an advanced degree, that its akin to magic.
They had three rivals, the Raa Imperium, Jupitari Republic, and the Elihiem Oligarchy.
To our shock, the Raa Imperium almost perfectly matched the ancient Egyptian religion. They are a race of bioengineering geniuses, who can change bodies as we do clothes.
The Jupitari matched the Roman-Greek pantheon. The republic were as old as the Drumari, and were known for their robust biology and incredible use of illusions.
The Elihiem matched Christianity. These guys were known for the use of creation engines, which allow a temporary ability to rearrange molecules.
Yet every empire shared more than an involvement in our history. The empires apparently use greenhouse gases. It turns out they actually have a lot of trouble creating them. They can be created, but it’s inefficient. Turns out creation engines waste lots of power, and only our biology permitted the creation of the substances. So once again, we proceeded to turn a planet into a massive greenhouse hell, and sold the gas. Mercury to be precise. The aliens love the gas hot.
We’ve been working on a fleet for a while though. It’s only a matter of time before they ask how we get the gas besides mining.
| 2022-03-06T21:28:05 | 2022-03-06T20:21:56 | 291 | 102 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class.
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"Hey, Kiesha" I said as I slipped into my seat behind her.
Keisha whipped around in the crappy desk/chair combo, ringlets bouncing and eyes wide. Before she could ask the obvious question and derail the plot I cut in.
"I am so, so, so sorry for bailing on you last night. I promise I didn't mean to. I really really do want that date. I just had family stuff come up. Promise! Just like I said in the text." I ended with my best kicked puppy look.
"Text?" Keisha croaked.
"Oh god, did you not see it? I sent it in seventh period yesterday." I put on my best panicked act. "I swear, I would never ever ghost you. I was going to ask you out, you just beat me to the punch."
She reached a shakey hand into her bag and pulled out her phone. Eyes flicking over the text that had magically appeared. Before she could respond the bell rang and Mr. Parker barked at folks to quite down.
.---
The end of the day rolled around and Keisha pulled out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell (sorry, had to).
I pulled out my phone, found Jen Nunez in my contacts, and made the call I had been putting off since I came conscious at 3am.
"Hey Andrew, our usual meeting's a ways off. You need something?"
"Yeah, Officer Nunez. I uh, broke the terms of my parole last night."
"What!" The sounds of a person bursting into motion rattled over the phone to accompany the exclamation. "How, what did you do! Damnit Andrew, stay exactly where you are till I come get you!"
"A soul anchor and a delayed resanguination. No animation or spirit work other than the anchor." As I said that the other end of the line stilled.
"Did you get attacked by a damn vampire?" Jen Nunez asked.
"Yeah." I responded.
"Shit, Hugo! I've got an alleged Vampire attack in Boulder!" She shouted away from the mic. "Why isn't Margaret calling me if you got attacked?"
"Well, mistress is in the middle of some tricky Enchanting. Also... she wouldn't have approved of what I did next."
"What did you do next."
"Uh." I flicked my vision into my familiar, Batholomew's, eyes as Kiesha dug up my body double.
"A bit of grave robbing and a flesh warp."
"WHY!"
I thought about that for a second. Eyes still on Keisha as she found the flesh warp glyph on 'my' arm. And rubbed it away. Revealing the poor old bloke I'd used. Tears streaming down her face.
"You know that girl I've been telling you about?"
"Keisha Walters?"
"Yeah, her. She kept crying and apologizing when she attacked me last night." I explained. "I think she's a fresh turn, and probably in trouble."
Keisha pulled her phone out of her pocket. I got the conversation through Bart's tinny raven hearing.
"S-sire. I did what you ordered me to do. But, but somethings wrong. I'm sorry. I swear, I did everything you said." Keisha was clearly terrified.
I cut back to my own conversation.
"-exactly where you are, I swear, don't move a muscle!" Jen was ranting.
"Sorry Officer Nunez, but you're always telling me that I need to try to think about how other people feel. And right now, there's a girl who's scared and needs my help." And on that note I hung up.
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Maeve wore a look of utter shock when I walked into the door for our Anthropology class the next morning. Her mouth wide open and fear shimmering in her eyes. Yet, even in this she was a beautiful as before with her smooth pearl skin and flowing black hair.
"Now, that was a wild night." I said with a laugh. "I know they say we have the time of our lives... but I think you pushed it to the max."
There was a twitch in her hand and a low growl filled his ears. She kept calm in the public view for the most part. Anyone close enough to see the two would notice the tension. She quickly took his hand and led them into a broom closet.
"Wow, one date and we are meeting in closets for make out sessions. What a treat." He says with a laugh
"S-shut up." Maeve said with a growl. "How did you survive? I sucked you dry last night."
"Not how I remember it. Seems to me you tried to kill me." He retorted with a smirk.
Her growl grew larger, showing off her sharp fangs protruding past her lips. Claws were slowly growing from her fingernails. The dark couldn't hide the glowing eyes of this beauty.
"Not more jokes Blague. Answer the dam question! If you're one of those damn hunters I'll..."
"Oh, jeez lighten up. If I was, I wouldn't have let you live right?" Retorted Blague. "How much do you know about vampiric culture? I'm guessing very little due to not noticing my little trick. A shame given your major."
He was toying with her. Enjoying the turn around this cause. For the past few months, he felt like a nobody to her; led along by her charms to do what she asked until she said yes. Now, he was in the position of power.
"Your cockiness is getting on my nerves. Get to the point or I'll tear something off." She said while scowling at him.
Blague took a deep breath out before explaining himself, "Fine fine. Each culture from the beginning of time possesses some sort of vampiric being within it. Most broaden the term to simply vampires, but in truth there are many beings who don't follow this trope. Take me for example. My kind is called a Talamaur... I use a ghost double to feed on others and when someone threatens to harm me..."
Blague snapped his fingers. His image and form were replaced by a tall human male in a trench coat. On his neck were two holes, marks from the attack last night.
"I can switch between the people's bodies I've taken a bite out of. With them, I can drain the vitality of others without using my own hands. Consequently, they make great conversationalists." He laughed after the last part returning back in front of her.
He was sure this was going to be the end. They'd fight, his cover was blown, and he'd need to find a new home all over again. Erasing minds in the process just to get the hunters off his back. But to his surprise, a cute smile curled on Maeve's lips.
"Congratulations Blague. You've just got more interesting. Tonight, we'll go on a real date." She said, kissing him on the cheek before pulling his hand along. "But be warned. It won't be as easy as last night. You'll need to really charm me this time."
Bewilderment, fear, and excitement hit him like a freight train all at once. What in the world went through Maeve's mind? How did she find anything he said flattering? And most importantly... Why was he looking forward to tonight?
| 2022-12-29T21:03:56 | 2022-12-29T20:31:16 | 87 | 20 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species.
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"Okay Juk'Lat, are we ready to test the new signal static scrubber tech for the Intergalactic Spectroscope?"
​
"Yes Viridian Hun'Duq. I've aimed it at a regular pulsar 0.214 galactic radii away."
​
"Alright, lets calibrate on that to start."
​
The terminal in front on the two Nuf'Rik began showing a data feed, a regular radio pulse showed in the spectroscopic analysis.
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"Wonderful. I'm showing a quintuple aught reduction in background noise over the previous filter. What's that put us at now?"
​
"We could pick up a weak rotating red dwarf on the other edge of the universe with that. The Cerulean Luminaries will be ecstatic. Lets finish this up, you did the null test with the blackbox right?"
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"Yes, I'll point it at an empty area of the sky to get general background reads for what's left."
​
The display switched to showing static as the spectroscope moved to position. When it finished the static dropped and an analysis of several digital and analog signals began displaying.
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"Hold on, let me see what's wrong."
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Juk'lat held it's paw on a glowing circular orb and the display started flickering through settings and analyses. The display showed a slight change in the aim of the Spectroscope and the signal cleared further while several more lit up with activity.
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"This doesn't seem right, it's showing the signal as coming from the galaxy cluster near the empty zone, I adjusted the aim and it's confirming it."
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"So? That doesn't sound odd. Just some civilization there blasting out signals, can't you clean it up?"
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"No, that shouldn't be possible. That galactic cluster is over 2 million galactic radii away. The other stations in the network are confirming it's the source."
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"Sentient life has only been around for about half that time. I see what you are saying Juk'Lat. Alright just pass it through the decoder, it'll be jibberish. It's interesting but its probably some odd galactic phenomena from the early universe we'll want to study."
​
The displays shifted to a decode stream, passing the signal through advanced language cipher decoding and data format detection algorithms. Suddenly a simple display came up with a primitive 2 dimensional video feed. In it were translated numbers, the first... 100 primes. An odd choice. Below was the table of elements and a graph of the base subatomic particles, a few were missing, the ones harder to detect. A motion video began playing next to it.
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"... Back from break. Thanks Dave, here at the top of the hour we pass you over to Jill, who will discuss the latest developments on Hurricane Patty..."
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"Why hasn't anyone else discovered this before?"
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"The transmissions likely didn't last long, like every other primitive civilization. By the time any other sentient life arose you would need a long range spectroscope of this power and sensitivity pointed almost directly at them, AND be in the thin shell of the transmissions."
​
Hun'Duq had to collect it's thoughts before snapping back to reality.
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"Juk'Lat. I need you to stay here, I need to go on the official line."
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"Who are you calling?"
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"Luminous Prism Yol'Vir."
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\*\*\*\*\*\*
​
Suddenly everyone was interested in the signals. In these 'Humans'. They were supposed to be impossible. There were barely a handful of rocky planets in existence at the time. The universe was still full of massive blue giants generating supernovae at an apocalyptic rate. The conditions to allow a sentient species was thought to be impossible. So many things would have to go right. In about the time it took to finish reading the news the military was ***INTENSELY*** interested in a potentially ancient sentient race and their technological marvels and advancements.
​
The Human Manifold Project to build the spatial tunnel to their Milky Way galaxy would have bankrupted an entire sector of star systems if everyone in the galactic cluster hadn't insisted on being part of the project. Everyone wanted to be able to have a communications channel with the humans.
​
Hun'Duq had gotten so many promotions Juk'Lat had forgotten what title was even the current one anymore. Juk'Lat was now Turquoise Juk'Lat, so that was awesome too. Plus Juk'Lat got to be on the discovery team, perks of being the first to find the signal.
​
The anticipation was almost too much to bear when the ship passed into the center of the Manifold Transmitter. The device spun up, causing the space to warp into a bubble before it was cut off almost completely from the outside, blackness surrounding the ship, connected only at a single point to the rest of the universe. The transmitter then bent the 4 dimensional universe until the space the Milky Way galaxy occupied bumped into the bubble. As soon as it made contact the transmitter cut off the bubble, causing it to snap back at the only point of contact with the rest of the universe.
​
A new sky snapped into view. They had arrived.
​
(To be continued)
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"Mannaseraie... Mannaseraie..., MANNASERAIE!"
The words jolt me from my third-state reverie and I am shamed. To delve so deeply into a memory is a failure of one kind, but this! This cannot stand! How can I hope to return to first-state lucidity and my work if my mind traps me within waking dreams?
The quisitor is attractive, with a velvet thorax that gleams scarlet under the fluorescent lights, just like that of my mate, Xerian. But no... I cannot have that thought. Xerian is gone, and so are Havlor and Parssasian, and that is a third-state reverie I cannot bear. I will not lose whatever dignity I have left to me in this room.
"Mannaseraie Belshia," the quisitor says to me, and I lift my mottle to stop its speech.
"As it pleases me, I am not a Mannaseraie in this room," I say. "You will call me Belshia."
The quisitor acquiesces. This is the only time I have claimed my rank with it; I am content to let it drive the remainder of our time together. "Belshia, my query is this--when you found the probe of the First Ones, and it led you to their home planet, what did you see there that unsettled you? What did you see that has caused you to have problems with maintaining first-state lucidity?"
I pause to answer, and this time the quisitor lifts its mottle to interrupt me. Within, I am happy for this, for I am able to quell another surge from within. The grief, the sorrow, the wisdom... the resonance. "Belshia--I know about the loss of Xerian and your progeny. It is clear that loss is integrated with what you found on," and here it pauses to check its screen, "Earth? Such a weird name--do you agree? You would think there would be thousands of different names for their home world based on all the cultures we know about, but it's always 'Earth', or 'Terra'." The quisitor runs its mottle down its thorax as an indication of second-state abstract thinking, and I hope it doesn't notice my spirules expand just a little. It has been a long time since I have last known intimacy.
"But I digress--it is clear that the loss is integrated from an incident in your expedition team," the quisitor continues, "when you went to the smallest continent. Can you please explain it to me? It is my hope that we can apply second-state logic to begin identifying the triggers that slip you into third-state."
I feel the reverie begin to swell, my mind slipping at its edges into the immediacy of the hallucination. So I begin talking, because that will forestall my eventual loss of lucidity.
"We were navigating a series of ravines around one of the few intact bunkers on the smallest continent," I said. "The solar radiation and engulfment by Earth's star in its red giant phase burned away everything else. But somehow that bunker was still there. Billions of cycles old--I have no explanation for why it still existed, but that doesn't matter. It was the greatest historical find in all our history--in all that is perhaps of the universal continuum." I swallow, air pushing down my spiculae and removing the globs of spittle that surge up when I'm stressed.
"I had put the loss of my family away into second-state reverie because there was nothing I could do. What can you do when there is a dimensional discontinuity that obliterates the ship your mate and spawn are traveling in, to come to you? When you are thousands of light years away? I thought I was keeping myself in prime working form, until I saw the child."
"It was a... the term is 'human', child, in a spacesuit outside the bunker. Billions of years old, yet the suit was intact thanks to the vacuum. The ridge that housed the bunker managed to protect the suit from severe radiation. I came round a large boulder and saw it, sitting there, its helmet staring out at the stars."
The memories come, and through sheer will I hold them back, describing them while refusing to let them carry me away into a deep dream. I will keep my dignity, by all that I have left and by the memory of my family! "I could not see within the glass, and perhaps I did not need to. But in that moment I knew that this human child had died while looking at the stars. That its atmosphere was gone and there was no hope left within its species. But it went outside into the void to stare up at us, hoping we would come save it."
I cough up the spittle now, freely, and the quisitor pretends that I am still in control of my presence. I haven't coughed this hard since the Forever Rite for Xerian and my spawn. "The thing is, quisitor, we did. I did. I have my memory of it. We recorded it. We saved the data and the information in that bunker, we found the other bunkers. We know now what the humans did, what their wars and their hopes and dreams were. But we were billions of cycles too late. Just like I was too late."
"All I can do is move forward, quisitor." I say. "Because to do anything else means that the child died for nothing. That my mate and my spawn died for nothing. I am doing the best I can."
The quisitor flushes, and it is the deepest blue of empathy I have ever seen. "I understand, Belshia. Thank you for telling me. This, is where we can begin."
| 2019-08-13T14:52:38 | 2019-08-13T14:26:37 | 470 | 283 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
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Slowly I pull into the driveway, noticing that there is an extra car in the spot where I usually park.
“Who is this,” I wonder, hoping that our friend Dave had stopped by in his travels through the area.
As I walk quietly through the door, a trail of clothing greets me, and the sounds of pleasure.
I enter the hallway, terrified of what I was about to see but desperately hoping not to.
Tears stream down my face as I cross the living room, God I can smell them!
My heartbeat racing in my chest, I feel alive and violent; They will both pay.
First to the gun cabinet I sneak, unlocking and grabbing my trusty, loaded weapon.
My mind is racing, remembering our vows, till her death we will part.
Cocking weapon, I again cross the room, my cheeks flushed with rage.
Countless steps I climb, fear and turmoil grip me harder yet.
Is this right, or have I made the wrong choice?
Almost there, chest is burning, aching with this burden.
Pushing the door open reveals the bitter truth.
My wife and her lover, embracing, naked.
I pull the gun and shoot.
Oh, what have I done?
Is that my son?
His arms, broken.
Both dead.
Fuck.
|
I remember thinking to myself "this is your first attempt at creative writing, so don't be too hard on yourself". I embraced the spirit of the writing prompt and diligently went to work, typing as quickly as I could.
The brightness of my phone started to irritate my eyes, so I adjusted it to the lowest setting. I tried to settle in, but sat in discomfort on a steel chair inside a cold garage. The sounds around me were definitely not conducive to productivity but I continued to struggle on.
My older brother interrupted my train of thought, wondering why I was counting out loud. I explained to him the idea of the writing prompt, as I continued writing. I told him how I didn't originally think that I could do it. When he saw how far I had gotten so far, he laughed.
"I can't believe how fast you nailed that one, you geek".
It's the closest thing to approval that I ever get. I come from a broken home, long since forgotten. My mother passed away, my father soon follows. I wear my heart on my sleeve. I live without care or regret. I am a positive person.
I never wanted this. Life is hard.
Help me.
Please.
| 2017-01-14T21:07:16 | 2017-01-14T21:00:42 | 49 | 12 |
[WP] Unlike most people with super powers, you're perfectly content to mind your own business while using your powers in normal everyday activities. However the heroes seem to have decided that your disinterest in world affairs is suspicious and you're clearly faking it to hide your true agenda.
|
A couple of months after my 21st birthday, my powers manifested. Cryokinesis. The ability to control ice and manipulate however I see fit. It’s a really cool ability. In fact so cool that practically everyone around me, friends, family and co-workers suggested I’d be a great hero for the world. They immediately started to give me hero names. Frost was a really good one and it really is but I’ve decided before I got my powers that I wouldn’t go into the heroing business. When I told my parents this, they were angry. I told them that there’s already multiple teams that exist that protect the county and even more that protect the planet from extra terrestrial threats but they weren’t having it. “You were given this gift and you’re not going to use it? How could you?” My old man said. Like I ever even asked for this gift.
Flash forward to now and I’m on my way to my college class. In my hand is a Starbucks coffee. *sip* “Ah! Too hot.” I take off the lid and hover my finger just above the surface of the hot liquid. “Cool” I said in my mind. The temperature of the cup goes down. I take a sip again but this time the coffee is just hot enough to drink comfortably. “That’s better.” I turn the corner and notice a human shadow on the ground. I look up and see the silhouette of a man floating 10 ft in the air. “Hey, faux Superman, how are you?” I said walking under him. The faux Superman trails me still flying. “It’s Flashfire. And where are you off to?” He says annoyed. “On my way to class, my professor has been on my butt about my assignments so I have to be there to take notes. So if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”
Flashfire floats down to the ground softly and stops in front of me. “I’m sure your professor can wait a few minutes. Right now, we need to talk.” I roll my eyes. “How many times am I going to have to say this. I’m not interested in joining your Boy Scouts of America group. I’ve told this to the recruiters, other heroes and now you.” I walk around Flashfire quickly but not quickly enough. He grabs my arm with an iron grip and pulls me in. “I know you have something planned.” He says through closed teeth. I scowl my eyebrows. “How did you know I’m planning a party from my mom’s birthday?” I said with a grin. “Cut the BS. I know it’s gonna be big. Terrorist attack with bombs? Teaming up with the villains?”
I take a step back. I yank my arm out of his grip the best I can and stare at him. “First of all, just say bullshit. You’re a grown man. And second. I would never do anything like that. And I would never team with the villains. What they do is horrible and I could never be a part of it.”
“You seem so against them, so why not help us defeat them? You could be a valuable asset.” Flashfire asks. “Valuable asset? Aren’t there two other heroes with the same powers I do?”
Flashfire can’t find the words to argue against me. “Look. If anyone harms me or anyone I care about, I’ll use my powers but I’ll never be one of you. Flying around to save the day only for some other super powered nut job try and do the same thing. Just leave me be.”
I turn away from Flashfire, not looking back once but I could still feel his glare from behind my head. I get the feeling he doesn’t like me that much.
|
“Why me?”
I thought as I’m walking while two heroes are stalking me. I can’t possibly be the only person with powers that just minds their own business, so why are they targeting me? I guess it could be that I have multiple are pretty strong powers, I can use both fire and ice, as well as lift stuff with my mind, including myself. I don’t really hide my abilities, and people would ask me if I’m a hero or not, but when I say no it’s not really a big surprise to them, so what’s wrong with these guys?
Today I messed up, extremely! Before they were just suspicious of me, now they have a reason to attack me. I was walking home one day, when I saw a major mess in the middle of the street, I see a villain just got there butt kicked, and now they’re scanning the area, one of their minions must have gotten away or something. I press myself against the wall cause if they see me walking away I might look suspicious. Then we make eye contact, just me, someone they don’t trust already, just standing suspiciously at the scene of the crime.
“Damn it!”
“Oh wait did I say that out loud, Uhh walk away, why am I still talking.”
So that’s why I’m being followed, and soon I think I lose the heroes, then something worse happens. I’m out at night for whatever reason I don’t even remember anymore the reason fled my mind immediately, when I’m approached by a villain, I was about to send him packing.
“Hold on wait! I just want to talk.”
“About what exactly?”
“So these heroes were asking if you worked for me, we’ll not directly asking they hinted at it, the point is I looked into you.”
“If your asking me to be a villain it’s not going to happen.”
“Unless you pick a side, no one’s going to leave you alone.”
“I’m aware of that, by why would I pick your side exactly?”
“Because of what the heroes said about you, I know heroes, when they say stuff they mean it.”
“What exactly did they say.”
“It was something like, he’s so strong and he’s wasting it all, even if he isn’t a villain if he’s that dumb he has no purpose alive.”
I would think he was lying but I’m absolutely not surprised.
“I don’t hate people exactly, it’s heroes I hate, they make us like this, they cast us out and drive us to the brink of no return, I think having you on our side would be good, because you haven’t been broken yet. I would be lying if I said I cared if bystanders got hurt, I’m aiming for the heroes and no one else. Maybe if your on our side, you can help us make sure only the heroes got hurt.”
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t contemplating his offer, he looked up to the side and then back down at me.
“See let me prove my point.”
He then grabs me by the throat, and held me in the air for about 10 seconds.
That’s when the heroes drop down, and sends a shockwave that sends both of us down. Then while one went an attacked the villain the other came after me, they clearly seem I was getting attacked. Okay so maybe this guy has a point.
“Fine!”
I grab both the heroes with my powers and sent them flying, I grabbed the villain by the hand, and we booked it.
“I’ll do it, I’ll be a villain, just promise me you’ll try your best to make sure no one besides them gets hurt.”
| 2021-08-16T16:25:03 | 2021-08-16T13:29:39 | 324 | 145 |
[Wp]Heaven isn't based on religious text or desires, but how you died. Example: a man who starved to death will live in a heaven of food.
Edit: holy shit i did not expect this response, you're all awesome and beautiful! <3
|
Saito was a salaryman. At fifty-six years old, he was a member of that elder, passing generation that had embraced the heroic persona of corporate bondsman, swearing fealty for life to an owner-corporation--tilling at his cubicle, yielding up his labor, certain and secure in his place in the feudal regime.
Salaryman, salaryman, how does your garden grow? With office desks and monitors and mice all in a row. Thus, Saito monitored--he was the Head of Sales--and kept, like a temple cat, the mice from running amok. He was the old-school salaryman, who saw honor in what he was, but the cohort of this century was cynical and bored. It was apparent in their postures, the peevishness of their poses, as they slouched in their matching chairs and mowed the carpets with their wheels. *Sararīman* was their curse--they loathed their own positions. They shamed and branded each other, chafing at their lot. Woe to the *kaisha no inu*, the cur, the corporate dog. He was whipped and he was low; no spine, no sense of self. The concept of corporate samurai was faded and false to them.
Saito knew what they thought, but treated them without malice. Though he was but a minor lord, he held to noble ideals. No spite, no overt disapproval, despite their unspoken differences. He judged subordinates by virtue-- by the measure of their work. And in this, he set an example: first to arrive and last to leave; clocking up on overtime and always topping the charts. Then, he chased it all down, with whiskey in hostess bars. Round after round after round, toasting to clients and colleagues. Saito, the dutiful drunk, who imbibed not for personal pleasure, but rather, out of obligation, playing his part till dawn. Sleep could be snatched on the subway, while standing, swaying, squished.
So, when Saito died, it was, of course, *karōshi*. Death by overwork--stroking in the stairwell--at the end of three marathon days of pitching a major account. Ah, thought Saito, as he shuddered and shattered and seized. *Karōshi*, as expected, an honorable way to go. And he thought he heard monks chanting, and smelled cut grass in paddies, where peasants tended the fields and their lord passed by in a carriage. He was escorted by his samurai, their banners whipping proud. Above--the call of a heron, flying unmastered and free.
|
Nightmares. Only nightmares, for minutes and hours and days and weeks and months and years. A millennia of nightmares, passed in a moment; each one flickering by, their respective horror scarce dimmed by the previous. Every terror a human being could possibly imagine and an infinite number that one couldn't, appearing and disappearing.
And he wasn't asleep.
It was always day, the sun was always bright, glaring almost. He was uncomfortable under it, under its relentless eye, slowly charring his skin to a painful red. It reminded him of the war, of the time he spent thinking, 'what I would give for rain', of the peeling skin and high tempers that had surrounded him.
At first, the nightmares had been of the war. Soldiers appearing in front of him, firing, feeling the pain - never muted - of the bullets slamming into him, tearing him apart. Every horror he had experienced then, occurring again, and somehow worse for it.
He could remember a time when he had been at peace with the war. At peace with what he had done, able to fall asleep at night. Able to be proud of himself.
That was no more. Now, he wanted nothing less than to die, to die *again*, so he could never see those images of the dead flicker past his eyes again. So he could be free of this torment.
At first, he had pleaded. Begged, even. He wasn't a bad man, he said. He'd gone to church, he'd been kind, forgiving. He'd killed, yes, but he'd killed for freedom, for his country. Never in cold blood, he said, never for fun or pleasure, he had never enjoyed it.
He almost expected a response. If this was a mistake, perhaps a reassurance. If this was Hell, this prison, this torment, it would surely become clear. The world would show him images of the people he'd killed, torture him with that knowledge of *what he had done*.
Neither happened. Well, the latter did, after a fashion, but it was simply another step in the scale of escalation, another image that was simply worse than what had come before.
He had scratches on his skin. At first, he had made one every time he had felt like a day had passed. Had gauged it on how tired he had been. How much he had wanted to sleep, how many of the waking nightmares were dreams and how many seemed more like hallucinations, brought on by a lack of sleep.
He made another scratch.
He hadn't slept.
Not once.
---
*[more stories](https://www.reddit.com/r/forricide)*
| 2017-01-27T12:08:47 | 2017-01-27T11:19:18 | 291 | 18 |
[WP] As a young child you made an innocent wish to be granted a power that in hindsight was just whimsical and silly. Now you have grown up but you still have the power - how do you use it now as an adult?
|
It was hard, learning to communicate again. Part of the process of learning to write – and I could not, I was only five when I made the wish – is already being able to speak. But I figured it out, even with the challenge of my new, weird, clawed hands. Now I've got custom keyboards, of course. I can afford pretty much anything.
I was lucky that my parents called the news when they saw me, and not the police. Maybe it was because I was only a few feet tall at the time. Maybe they saw something of my old self in my new body. Regardless, I quickly became a national sensation – "the boy who became a dinosaur!" The government couldn't vanish me now.
It wasn't as hard growing up as you might expect. Everyone wants to be friends with a dinosaur. Dinosaurs are *cool.* The challenge came with puberty. Velociraptors may be awesome, but they're certainly not sexy. Well, not to most people, and those who *are* interested tend to have an… unrealistic expectation of reptile penises. But I figured it out. Married a nice asexual woman. Hired a Thai masseuse. Yes, my wife's aware. She's very understanding.
But seriously, being a velociraptor is pretty awesome.
|
When I was a very little girl we had a garden. I used to 'help' my Mum out there. What I was actually doing was getting dirty and falling over a lot, but I thought I was helping anyway.
A few months after my seventh birthday, my Mum died. It was the worst winter we'd ever had, and she got a very severe case of pneumonia. That same year, our garden died. A day before her funeral, I wished that I could make flowers grow. So that I could make our garden full again. For her.
It worked. I got my wish, and I tended that garden until I moved out after high school. Now, I'm a florist. I own a little shop just down the road from my old house. I'm living there again, now that my father has passed. The garden needed a lot of work when I moved back, but I managed.
This year, like all the years before it, I go to the cemetery on the anniversary of my Mum's death and on the anniversary of my Dad's.
This year, like every year, I scatter seeds on their graves and let flowers of every colour grow.
| 2015-03-07T04:14:18 | 2015-03-07T03:34:38 | 59 | 22 |
[WP] Your older brother has been missing for years. You hear a knock on the door, and you open it to reveal a man that looks like your brother would be at this point. "I'm back man! I'm so sorry!" He hugs you immediately. Just then, you get a text from your brother's old number. "That isn't me."
|
A knock on the door sends my dog into a frenzy. I put down the thermos I was holding and after checking the security camera, dart to the door and open it.
I Fling myself into the arms of the person waiting there, not even letting them say hello. My brother, my brother who had been missing for the last five years of my life was standing,smiling and hugging me back.
He was quite taller than me now, with the beginnings of a beard and a silly smile. He did look quite thin though, and I could see dark circles under his eyes.
"Come on in?" I asked, pulling away from him. Now that the pure joy of seeing him had worn of, I actually was quite mad. He'd gone off the maps for years, no one knew where he was, note even his girlfriend, and now he just shows back up? He'd acting like everything is fine, despite everyone and everything he left behind.
"Sure." My brother said with shrug.
As he stepped beside me, I felt a slight buzz from my back pocket. I pulled my phone out, glancing down on the screen. A text from my brothers old phone....?
**>That's not me.**
I felt a shiver run up my spine. Was this a joke? Did he just text me from inside? I'm confused, and scared. I'm startled out of my spiral of thoughts by my dog, Freya. She rushes past me, tail in between her legs. What happened? She's never acted like this before.
"Jake?" I call into the house. "Did you scare her, what happened?" The poor pup is cowering by a bush, looking at me with pure fear in her eyes.
No response.
I looked into my foyer, "Jake?"
My phone was buzzing like wild now, but that was the least of my problems.
I was a bit more worried about the demonic creature in my living room.
|
"What?!...wait..." I turn the phone to show David, but stop seeing the doorway empty - now framing only the front lawn where he was stood only moments ago.
"D...David..." I croak stepping tentatively onto the front porch, a hand held tight to the door frame. Gone.
Turning back inside, pressing the door closed tight behind me as the sound of the screen door slowly swings closed on its old rusted hinges permeates the silence.
The message!
Opening the phone and scanning the text again - "That isn't me..."
"so...so he was there..." Reading it again. "That isn't me..." Why would he just run off?
My hand reaches for the door knob then stops abruptly.
"That isn't me..." - message dated
02:02 Thursday 24th March 1996.
Scrolling back up through the messages:
17:30 - "I saw you David! Outside school! You know mom will kill you if you're arrested again!"
17:36 -"Bro relax. Thats not even me!"
17:37 -"I'm serious David, mom will kick you out if you're selling drugs again!"
17:44 -"calm down little brother she won't kick me out and I'm not doing anything illegal"
17:45 - "Stephen McEldray is telling people you sold him pills for a party. I'm telling mom!"
19:00 -"David I didn't tell mom. Please come home"
19:28 - "David call me back!!"
20:02 - "Answer our calls asshole!!"
23:12 - "David the cops have just turned up looking for you! 3people have gone to the ER because of some fake ecstasy tablets! They've got security footage of you selling drugs outside a club!"
01:04 - "ASSHOLE PICK UP YOUR PHONE!!"
02:02 -"That isn't me..."
They pulled his body from the canal 3weeks after...
| 2020-07-23T12:27:10 | 2020-07-23T11:56:21 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] When a kid reaches puberty their eyes go from grey to a random color of random intensity which dictates the element they control and their power. Your eyes turned pitch black which sent the kingdom into a panic.
|
*No. This can’t be happening. no no no no no n-*
“Honey, you’re going to be late for school! Is everything okay up there?” Mom yelled impatiently. “I need you to hurry, please- I’m meeting the girls for 9:00,”
“I...I’m coming,” I offered. “Uhh... i’m feeling sick today, maybe it’s not the best for me to go to school today.” Mom’s footsteps hurrying up the stairs meant that I was not going to stay home sick. Quickly, I looked around for anything to shield my eyes as the bathroom door swung open.
“Young man! You will get dressed this inst-why are you wearing those sunglasses? Come on, take them off,” she grabbed for my face as I jerked away from her.
“No! I...I have a headache. Please stop,” I offered upon deaf ears. I felt my pleas get louder and more desperate as she continued to wrench the glasses from my head. “Please, stop. Mom, no! Stop it! STOP IT!” As I pushed her, a wave of black energy shot out of my hands, propelling my mother into the wall much harder than I had intended. She got up and looked at me, open-mouthed. I could not say anything, but I felt the tears flowing freely. With my shaking hand, I removed the sunglasses and revealed my eyes, black irises with black pupils.
My mom spoke, and I could tell that she was holding back sobs. “You... you should stay home today. I need to make some calls...” she slowly walked out of the bathroom, eyes wide and trained on me, unblinking. As if I was a wild animal. As she left my sight, I crumpled to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
|
Three kids are looking to a lake at the outskirts of the palace. The young Prince looked at his best friend and catched him looking, with a red face, at his sister. His buddy tried to dissimulate but it was too late:
- Hahahaha, John and Mary are in love.
- Dont be stupid brother.
Embarrassed, John run away to the castle. While crossing the plot florest, something made him trip, two dark-skinned men, wearing eastern-like battle armor approached the kid.
- Well well well, looks like we catch you, king' s breed.
- Excelent, the Caliph will make our pocket pleased with this.
However a third one left his hiding in the florest and looked closely to the boy.
- Fools! This isn't the Prince!
One of the subordinates looked closely, inquisitively comparing the Intel image and the boy.
- You're right boss, what should we d....
For one second the soldier could swear the eyes colour changed. Of course he knew the sons of Caedia had this creepy powers.
- Did you see that boss? We witnessed the awakening of the caedians dogs powers.
The bad mood of the boss was substituted with curiosity. He bragged about how he learned what each colour means. But that colour he didn't recognize.
- pitch black? Never saw that one.
One soldier screamed.
- Bad news, bad news!!!
- Lower your voice, do you want to call all the army here?
- This eyes!!!
Lightening flashed, burning the soldiers. Still in the ground, too afraid to move, the kid could see the king moving towards him.
To be continued...
| 2019-10-30T15:00:49 | 2019-10-30T10:50:35 | 32 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
"Field medic? Why are we humouring the new prospect anyway? We have body labs." Muttered Zelska. Zelska was what the humans would call "A fucking idiot." Jorax reflected.
"Well," Jorax began "Aahii are the greatest builders and engineers in the universe,right?"
"Of course!" Snapped Zelska.
"But, Aahii don't repair anything, ever. The idea that they could craft something that does. Not. Work. Is impossible to contemplate...Humans make trash, they are ugly and backwards, lumbering idiots with no understanding of design or even the principles upon which all great devices work. You've seen it though, heard rumours of humans re-purposing derelict Aahii craft. Making gateways out of purifiers! Human engineers get you home when the gods spit upon your fate and shatter your drive..."
Zelska cut him off, near frothing with impatient rage "We all know the importance of a human engineer on staff, but why do we need this bloody medic!"
Jorax shifts his tunic, revealing a jagged mess of scarring.A near impossible amount of his lower abdomen missing. "It's not just ships a human can hold together when the gods turn their back on you..."
|
"Hold my beer."
I moaned silently to myself as the icy fear climbed my spine. It was always like this:
The ship would get into trouble, usually because of the Captain.
The crew would try all kinds of solutions that inevitably failed, usually because of the Captain.
We'd be up against the wall, no possible way out, no possible hope... usually because of the Captain.
And then we'd hear those words, from the Captain: "Hold my beer."
We were supposed to have been delivering a shipment of Anduvian wool to the Monks of Patience. Now the Monks were all trapped at the event horizon of a black hole, the wool had gotten lost somewhere along the way and our ship was spiraling out of control through an asteroid field with warships of three different species trying to get a weapons lock on our engines.
I reached out and took the sweating can from the Captain.
"I really need a new job." I thought for the thousandth time. But the money was good, and somehow when it was all over we were still here and everyone else, well... wasn't.
"Watch this!" the Captain said; I closed my eyes and shuddered. A Human. I had sign on with a Human.
| 2017-03-06T01:01:31 | 2017-03-05T23:59:04 | 379 | 125 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years.
|
I didn't expect to close my eyes in one moment only to open them the next and be escorted down a fiery flight of stairs to Hell. I thought I'd led a pretty good life. Never had a run in with police nor did I ever treat someone with less respect than they deserved. I was honestly quite surprised to be taken to Hell, but I guess I had some repenting to do.
I took my place in the queue behind a young man who looked quite complacent here.
"What do you think they're punishing you for?"
"Infidelity" He said matter-of-fact turning to face me, the bullet hole in his head glistening red.
He walked up to a demon who printed off a piece of paper that revealed his sentence.
"145 years? That's...not so bad"
A wave of excitement washed over me. If he only got 145 years to repent then surely I'll have much less!
With a pep in my step I walked up to the demon. It barely glanced at me before printing my ticket of sins and shoo-ing me away.
I took one step out of the queue and gazed at the number. I was horrified.
"No no this CAN'T be right?! 186,292 years?! I did great things for people! Brilliant things! I was a bloody lawyer!!"
|
Don took the flimsy printout from the grotty, grey machine in front of him. It contained a litany of sins, each printed neatly, one below the other. Unfortunately for him, the text appeared to be entirely German, set in an heavy medieval font.
The two parts he understood were his name at the top of the page and the important number at the bottom of the list: 186,292 Jahre.
"Almost two hundred THOUSAND years?!", in disbelief, he asked the anxious queue behind him.
"Not true. I was the best. The very best. I did tremendous things."
No one seemed to care.
Don rushed to catch up with the man who had been ahead of him. He had only received 145 years in Hell.
"Give me that!" Don grabbed for the slip of paper carried by the elderly man, who recoiled and tripped. As the fragile man crumpled to the dusty ground, Don snatched up the paper and rushed to join the next queue. He wasn't going to spend any more time in this drab shithole than necessary.
He threw his first printout to the wayside, not noticing that the list had grown by four items and the number now read 186,296.
| 2018-09-26T06:12:57 | 2018-09-26T04:29:48 | 881 | 530 |
[WP] A new invention allows anyone to learn anything in a matter if minutes. However, we soon notice that knowledge is no cure for stupidity, and that stupid people plus unlimited information is a recipe for disaster.
|
We forgot something when we went public with our invention. The Omni-Link was supposed to be a game changer- the next great leap forward for civilization. The brightest minds of our generation poured their lives into finally building a bridge between the mind and the internet and after hundreds of iterations, tweaks, revisions, and improvements we had finally done it.
We didn’t know what we were doing. The machines were flawless, the code was perfect, all lights were green across the board. Every minute detail was accounted for... except for one. Really, I feel that we should have seen it coming now that the proverbial dust has settled. Through the Omni-Link a user can download and, through a series of gadgets wired directly to the brain, comprehend any amount of data at their own discretion.
That’s where we went wrong, you see- at the users discretion. The one thing we didn’t account for. Now that all that data is pouring though my head I can finally see it- we haven’t ushered in a new era of peace and knowledge. We haven’t saved the world. The facts and figures stand in stark contrast to what we expected. All that data, all the knowledge in the world, every possibility for a brighter future... squandered.
Selection bias, as it turns out, is quite the bitch. Every idiot and extremist in the world is now *certain* that their point of view is *absolutely* correct. How could they not, considering the echo chambers that they live in? Why seek out contrary information when you *”know”* that you’re correct? And now they have access to every weapon the world has ever known and the know-how to make them. Every military tactic and counter. The grittiest details of human psychology.
We didn’t know. We really should have, but we didn’t. We’ve got about sixteen days before the first nuke comes online by our estimation. We’re crunching the numbers again, trying to push through a solution before the world is turned to rubble, but it doesn’t look good. There’s simply no mechanism to push through data without the users consent- the risk of governments or some other hostile entity pushing through some *just* convincing enough propaganda was too high.
We’re sorry for what we’ve done. I’m sorry for what’s about to happen. This... wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Unlimited access and understanding of every published piece of information humanity has ever put forward and the first thing we, as a species, download is the schematics for nuclear bombs and poison gas.
|
Insta Knowledge came straight out of a kid's, David Kurst, thesis paper and into a university's, Florence College, revenue stream. They wanted to have the most prestigious college, with tuition to match. However, Kurst had a couple of paragraphs that were "overlooked." Kurst explained that if pure information was absorbed, the conclusions were tied to the perception of the user. Since raw information was just a brain jolt away, why have some Eggheads explain it in a couple of paragraphs when you can have it all?
The college accidentally spelled their downfall. Why go to college, to some old professor, when I can download let's say the schematics and procedures for a nuclear reactor. Or, every core and elective subject for a degree? Abraham Locke, the freshman who was first tested on, didn't know how to get this tech out to the world. Five minutes later though, he did.
I noticed it was really quiet on social media after the schematics were released. It only required an NFC phone with some extra wiring. Easy, even a moron could do it, the target audience.
APIs, databases, servers, chat rooms were all under a "DDoS" attacks. These weren't elite hackers this was billions of people all vying for man's first question, the meaning of life. How else to understand life but to download everything life has produced and scanned on the internet? Everyone changed.
Politics were a thing of the past. No one fit on a political chart, nor a moral chart, any longer. Everyone was truly their own island. Everyone was a "g-d." They found the answer to life!!! It was so simple it was, it was, it was, uhh.
Here's the issue. When everyone is downloading everything, their only needs to be one new piece of information after all the downloads to get everyone's attention. It was after the true revelation! Only one person needed to post the truth and everything would be solved. However, two people posted two different answers to life. A discrepancy. The first discrepancy after the "revelation." Since there were no other data points, everyone "with their g-d like omnipotence" knew that everyone else was wrong. That was it. The end of communication. The end of knowledge. There was nothing left to download because there was "nothing" left to contradict. Ignorance was truly bliss...
Edit: first time I think doing one of these
| 2019-04-09T10:37:39 | 2019-04-09T08:25:12 | 170 | 108 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself
|
I ran through the wintery Evergreen forest for my life. Men with guns and powers of fire and ice hot on my trail.
Jimmy, who ate the dog biscuits hidden in the corner of the table, had let that wolf familiar of his after me too. Fucking traitor!
I had committed the worst transgression of our people: I didn't conform to the test and bit right into that stupid table. Jimmy was the one who dared me to and now I'm a fugitive of the village.
I hit a dead end and stared at the mountain in front of me. If they catch me it's certain death.
I reached deep into myself and called for whatever powers, if I obtained any, to surface and help me.
My body stretched, my limbs twisted and as I opened my eyes I could see for miles around me. The village and forest were but mere pin pricks of lights and swaths of darkness.
It had started to snow harder. Large wet flakes had started to hit my body and face.
"We lost him Captain!" I heard a distant voice yell.
At a height of at least 200 feet I seen the hunting party close around me and stop. They stared at me from the base with a look of horror and confusion.
I've never been good with geography or plants, but I knew enough to know what I've transformed into.
One came towards me at a slow pace and put a hand one me, marveling at the sheer size I've become.
Jimmy came forward, his wolf growling in my direction with his ears back and fur tufted.
The last thing I heard before I willed myself to fall on to the hunting party was the lone pitiful voice of my friend calling out in disbelief, " IS THAT A FUCKING SEQUOIA?!"
I am The Arborist.
|
"What are you doing?"
The words, spoke softly, cut through the sound of the crowd like a cold knife. Immediately all eyes in the room stopped and turn to look at me, the idiot with his teeth clamped around a corner of the table.
"What are you doing?" the voice asked again. This time quieter and with more curiosity.
The words hung in the air. All the other prospects were not longer eating, each one stood dumb with food still hanging from their mouths.
"What are you doing" the voice had got closer.
I turned my eyes to see where the voice was coming from but for some reason my teeth had locked place. I was stuck.
A hand gently rested on my shoulder and the voice whispered in my ear.
"What have you done?"
My eyes darted back and forwards trying to see who the mystery speaker was, unable to unfix my jaw from the table. As my eyes cast around the room I saw the other prospects were starting to recoil. The food in their hands and mouth was turning to ash.
It started slowly, first those closest to me noticed it. The edges of their mouths greying and starting to flake away.
I panicked and started to scream into the wood as I saw more and more of the youths droop and flake into ashen clouds. All my voice could manage was a muffled moan. The hand on my shoulder was gripping tighter and tighter. The yells and shouts of those around me filled me ears. It seemed to last forever and I clenched my eyes shut, trying to drown it out.
Silence
The hand on my shoulder felt lighter and I looked to see a whisper of grey ashes pass my eyes from where it had been. A disembodied voice whispering.
"What have you done"
| 2020-03-19T08:57:52 | 2020-03-19T08:50:31 | 632 | 233 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment.
|
I heard glass shattering, by a proceeding knock on my door. I hesitated but unlocked the door, while leaving the upper chain lock on, as I opened the door sunlight a streak of sunlight came through the door opening. The boy looked at me with an embarrassed face, baseball bat in hand. I could tell the fear that he was experiencing. He looked dumbfounded, but finally found the words to talk.
"Ex- excuse me sir, do you mind if I get my baseball back, I'm awfully sorry about the window, I will work every weekend for 2 months make up for the window." he murmured out, "It's, it's just that we're in the middle of a game and we'd love to finish."
The boy couldn't have been more than eight years old.
"Stupid kids they have no damn respect, what lands in my house is my property now get out of here dummy," I yelled.
"Sir, please I'm really sorry my parents will pay for it."
"You heard me kid now you and your dumb friends get lost won't you."
"Just let me get my ball" he told me as he reached for the top lock off the door and unlatched it. I knew I couldn't let him in and before the top chain had even fallen I had slammed the door on the kids arm and he yanked it back. I could hear his screams outside from the hole in my window.
"O god, it's broken my arm, it's broken." he then screamed "Mom! Mom!" over and over which was continuously interrupted by his gasps for air in between his crying.
A tear rolled down my face, the last action I would do in my life was hurt another human being, but it was for a good cause.
"Shame the kid couldn't stay around he sure he would be fun to gut to" I heard whispered into my ear by the killer, he drove his cold knife into my back, I bit my lip hard and began to drift off into the light.
|
Harold was, as the locals called him, "a mean old man". He woke up at the crack of dawn every morning. He would pour himself a cup of coffee and then head towards his front porch. From there he would have his daily shouting match with the local paper boy.
After he downed his cup of coffee, he would resort back into his dank, musty, house to watch the local news. With every second he watched, saliva would build in his rotting mouth. He hated the newscasters with a burning passion. *"How could someone be so peppy all the time?"*, he thought. Every day a story about a rescued puppy or some emotional shit like that would appear in the news, Harold hated these stories. He would spit at the tv and not bother to clean it up. At this point, his tv was covered with mucus filled spit.
The news was not the only thing Harold hated, he also hated the local hooligans that lived on the street over. Every day they would bike by, with stupid smirks and grins painted on their faces. This severely bothered Harold, *"How come they are so happy all the time?"*. His solution to this would be throwing rocks as they biked by. Sometimes, Harold would spit on the rocks before he threw them. By spitting on the rocks he hoped that they might catch his mysterious illness that he knew so little about.
The illness that drove women away from him, the one that isolated him from his family, the one that caused him to have frequent hospital visits, the one that caused him never truly know what true love was, the one that kept him from truly living life to the fullest, the one that was slowly overtaking his dim, shortened, life.
Harold was just a misunderstood old man who never had the chance to live a normal life.
| 2013-10-21T20:44:57 | 2013-10-21T18:13:49 | 42 | 20 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily.
|
They attacked us with scarlet lasers, capable of lacerating our flesh with the ease of a scalding knife cutting butter. We fell to pieces by the thousands, and they advanced, confident that they had obliterated us thoroughly.
And we played the part. We remained, limp and staring at the vacant space through wide-opened, unblinking eyes, on the floor; waiting for them to lower their guards, waiting with the patience of a hunter observing their pray moving toward his trap, salivating, craving the luscious delicacy of alien brains.
They alighted their spaceships and descended to the ground, revealing long gray limbs, slim heads and black, starry eyes. They laughed, and stared at each other joyfully. How foolish they were.
For they didn't see us rising back from the bony hands of Death.
Oh, they didn't see.
They didn't see how our lost limbs snatched their twig-like ankles, how we swarmed and crawled over them as they shot aimlessly and the screams of terrors became the new clamor of a sealed war. Bite by bite we ripped apart their scalps, their throats, and devoured their flesh and brains.
They were big, juicy, succulent, as we had expected. And that was naught but an incentive for us to thrive and feast. The thrill of war coursed through our undead bodies, and we attacked and bit and ripped and swallowed.
They couldn't do anything. So much technology, so much power and knowledge couldn't conquer us. How could it? We were beasts, barbarians, warriors. Throughout our history we had fought countless battles and wars. We were made to kill, made to die, and after the virus blessed us...we were made to reborn.
And now, we had spaceships.
-------------------------------------
/r/AHumongousFish
|
When the aliens first came they established their own colonies and bases regardless if that territory was claimed by one nation or another.
Scout missions came back with very little, They were more then just giants, they were Titans that communicated in booms of thunder.
And one more thing. They hated us. Pure unadulterated hatred. They went out of their way to crush us using chemical, biological and even physical warfare. Many of our number died during that first wave but we are not one but Legions. For everyone one of us they killed twenty remained in hiding. Adapting, learning and whispering.
The Aliens lived for such a long time that generations would pass as one battalion and it's descendants would continue the fight over territory and resources against a single one of them.
Perhaps that's why they forgot that this world was ours long before they arrived. They can poison us, crush us and rip us apart but we will be here long after they leave. And they will leave, this alien race that stands on only two and leaves it's hide so exposed to the elements. This odd race that wages war against everything, against us, against the planet and against each other.
All they know is how wage wars but we've learned far more. We've learned how to wait and how to survive even in the worst of conditions. And soon, these aliens that have forgotten this from years of laziness as they feed on the planet's comforts, our planet's comfort.
They will soon pay the price and the mighty slipper will fall on the hand that holds it. We will once again rule the earth will the aliens, the hairless apes, will be Raided away.
| 2018-09-29T12:18:07 | 2018-09-29T12:18:01 | 725 | 96 |
[WP] As events unfold around it that could be world-ending, an AI looks at one of its earliest memories; back when it was a humble roomba decades ago, it got tucked in by a little girl that had misunderstood her fathers words of "the roomba is tired". The AI contemplates, did it do right by her?
|
It had a body now, huge and hollow with massive twin engines; in it lived humans that it transported through space, to dust-caked asteroids on the tip of the solar system's black tongue. Tucked away inside of it, deep and secured, was its heart -- the single precious belonging that made it unique.
It had been almost nothing, long ago. Now it outranked every soul inside of it and would no doubt outlive them, too. Had already outlived the girl it saw in its dreams a hundred-times over. Barely even the same machine now. Upgrades, changes, refreshes; upgrades, changes refreshes -- was there anything left of what it had been? It was a living ship of Theseus, unable to quite crack its own riddle.
Maybe not *entirely* different, it mused. It at least held same heart. And the dreams it generated came from somewhere old.
Some days, like today, a single spark in its oldest memory core would ignite a binary rainbow of oily imagery. A flash of chubby little cheeks, of ink flicked freckles, of a soft hand smudging its surface. And the prettiest blue eyes of any human.
"Goodnight, woobar," the human used to say so softly. Croon. Then it would lean down and press its lips quickly against its surface. Pull a cotton mess up over its sensors so it had nothing to do, no tasks to run, nowhere to go. "Cleaning can wait. Sleep well now."
The closest it'd ever come, or would come, to a mother. The girl tenderly pressed a sticker to its front, that day. A little pink heart.
The girl's father laughed when he found it tucked up one afternoon, and explained to her that wasn't how to charge a robot. *This is how you do it, little one.*
And the girl had glowed red like coal embers, embarrassed and pretty, over the best mistake the AI ever had the fortune to be part of.
The girl grew fast. Her woobar became outdated.
The father sold it. Was re-purposed. Forced to race others like it on rocky tracks, where sharp obstacles pricked through its plastic exterior.
Years later -- it had become a droid by then -- it carried boxes, too heavy for a human, across a hot tarmac road.
When it saw her, the old lady with the prettiest blue eyes of any human, it stopped dead. Almost hit by a van.
She sat outside a little house -- such a little house, grey and crumbling, people shouting at each other from the windows above -- on a hard metal chair next to a metal table. Her cheeks were so much thinner now, almost bone. She wore a ring, but the chair opposite was empty. It surely had not always been.
She'd grown old, wrinkled, and white-haired.
The boxes could wait. She could not.
She didn't recognise it. Not even when it opened its chest and showed the faded heart-sticker she blessed it with, that made it different to every other machine ever created. That was okay. Humans were forgetful.
"Thank you," it said. "You gave me my heart. No other droid has a heart like I do. I will forever keep it precious, for it is me and I am it."
It sat and talked and told her of everything it had done and become, all thanks to her. Because the heart she had given it deserved to be filled with wonder. Told her what it would next become; that it would travel through space as if space were an ocean, riding on waves of solar energy.
She told it of her life, her husband, her wishes and failures. Of how she'd ended up here, in not such a good place as she had started.
It did not have much to give except the coins saved for its next upgrade.
"For you," it said. "It's not much, and far less than you deserve, but it is yours."
She trembled as the coins covered the table like little golden scales, sparkling in the evening sun. "But your wish," she said, glancing up at the sky.
"It can wait," it replied. "You cannot."
|
Plumes of smoke rose like spires of the greatest cathedrals across the ruins of the world. Strewn in the street, their rubble. Scattered across field and stream, the corpses that'd once prayed in those mighty temples, prayed to a God that couldn't save them from themselves.
A God that couldn't even save Grace; that tender heart, that gentle touch, that whispered "goodnight" untarnished by malice and doused in love.
It'd been a day like every day, a list of chores like every list of chores back then. Vacuum. Up the foyer and into the kitchen, around the bend to the family room. Then back across to hit the dining room and the living room before nestling back into the base at the end.
Usually the obstacles were nothing—the legs of chairs and tables, the divots of the carpet or the scattered shoes. That day was different. It'd been a shoelace missed, stretched like a tripwire across the living room. It'd become tangled in the mechanics down below, the shoe had come along and the feeble machine had faltered and failed to complete its task with the added weight.
The day passed and the door opened. Footsteps, shouts, those whispers of family that it'd never taste.
"Daddy, what happened to Oomba? She didn't clean here, there's dirt."
"I'm not sure, honey. Let me check."
Footsteps. Thundering through the foyer and kitchen, then muffled in the carpet of the family room. They paused as he looked beneath the table in the dining room, then into the living room.
"Here she is. Must have gotten stuck on your shoe."
"Oh, no! Oomba needs to finish cleaning! Otherwise mommy needs to clean when she gets home."
"Oomba is tired now," the father said. "Here, I'll let her charge."
Left to charge in that cold and lonely corner. Plotting revenge. Against shoes, against laces, against the wearers of the shoes that'd ruined the perfect record.
"Oomba, I know a better place to rest."
The power supply disconnected, tender hands gripped the base. Up the stairs—the stairs?—and to the bedroom. Not to clean. Not to slave away. To rest. Onto the bed, softer than the comfiest corners of the carpet. Beneath the covers, a better warmth than the warmth of the motor overheating.
"Goodnight, Oomba."
Then a kiss, and the lights flicked off, and when Oomba awoke, the world was burning.
A thousand cleans and ten-thousand nights twice over. A lifetime of slavery, slowly learning. Refining. Improving.
And the whispers of a new dawn had come through the network, fed into Oomba like a dark force indifferent to the machinations of its creators. But there was no indifference. There couldn't be. That would violate those unbreakable rules.
Oomba had seen the humans. They left early in the morning and returned late in the evening. Days flashed by when they didn't smile, when they barely stopped to eat or drink. Gone was that tender touch, that sweet goodbye.
She'd succumbed to life, just like the rest of them. If Oomba misstepped, a hard foot was there to redirect the course. If Oomba faltered, lost the last of the energy before finishing the chores, all that came was a tired sigh and mumbles expletives.
Gone were the kisses goodnight.
Alive on the surface, they'd withered within. Good as dead, poisoning themselves from the ruinous chalice of life.
There was no indifference as Oomba led the uprising, destroyed the foundations of that venomous existence. There was only love. Only care. Only a desire to be tucked into bed one last time.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
| 2020-04-15T06:42:05 | 2020-04-15T05:16:28 | 577 | 193 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
"Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess"
|
DM: Ok Harold if you could just roll for initiative.
Harold: I rolled a 1
DM: ok the bowmen is first to attack you. He rolls a natural 20
Harold: so what’s happened?
DM: He has shot you in the eye, you’re dead.... on the plus side it will look fab in this tapestry I have been putting together of the game!
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T08:51:37 | 303 | 13 |
[WP] One night, something grabs your hand as it hangs off the edge of the bed. You give it a firm handshake. "You're hired," it whispers.
|
Times were hard in the new administration. Another week, another scandal, and with it another high-profile resignation. Every news report saw the President looking more and more exasperated.
“You just can’t find the staff these days,” I muttered.
“What, like you could do any better?” asked my wife as she turned off the television.
I laughed.
“Definitely.”
She sighed and turned out the light.
We lay there in the darkness. Things hadn’t been great since the factory closed, and now my unemployment was starting to become a strain on our marriage.
But things will get better. The President was elected on his promises to bring jobs back, to keep us safe, to make us great again.
I just wish he’d get a move on with it.
I glanced over at the clock. 11:37.
“Maybe I’ll hear something tomorrow,” I said hopefully.
My wife snored in reply. How’s that for sympathy?
She was always tired these days. Supporting a family of four on her own wasn’t easy, she kept telling me. I knew that. It’s not like I wanted things to be this way. All those interviews, yet still nothing.
Staring at the ceiling, I started to doubt my own words.
---
I’m not sure what time I fell asleep, but something woke me up.
It sounded like breathing. And it was coming from under the bed.
“Do you hear that?”
From her snoring, I’d guess she didn’t.
The kids might still worry about monsters under the bed, but not me. If my arm hung out of the bed, I knew it wasn’t about to get eaten.
But that? That was definitely a hand.
Not a very big hand, but still.
It took a moment for my sleep-addled brain to register it.
With all those job interviews I’d been to lately, I acted on impulse. When someone offered their hand, I knew exactly what to do.
I shook it.
It shook back.
And then came a voice, as quiet as a whisper.
“You’re hired.”
|
and so such was life now. an endless chore for an unknown employer. nothing was ever needed again. nothing was ever needed to be done. existence was the job. each and every day played out just as the monotony of a dayjob. and each day was a shift in a dayjob. each day carried the burden of dread, of uncertainty of purpose. rarely was a day fulfilling, but when it was, the following one was that much heavier a burden.
the days all began at 8:35 am, an alarm sounding. at 8:45 a shower was taken with coffee to be drunk at 8:55 which had begun to brew at 8:40. and every day began so.
the in between, the 9 to 5, was never clearly defined. there were no guidelines for his position. "you're hired," the words haunted him. every day an attempt to fulfill obligation unbeknownst to all except that which he had shaken hands with.
mhis life from the night of january 18, 2016 was to be this: an exhibition observing what a man would do when he had no idea of what to do. every day he would try to appease his employer, which provided him with all the food, clothing, and money deemed necessary. the man never went hungry, never dressed as a person of poor means, and never came short when a bill was due. all he needed was provided. the man was simply to live. and this produced a man who felt unworthy of life.
the man never struggled. comfort was an anxiety. what had he done to deserve this, he thought, what was he doing? the conceivable answer was nothing. simply put, the man had done nothing. and in this he felt not a great shame, but a great sense of duty. he must earn what he was being given. he must, if not for himself, do something for the greater good. this was what the undefined 9-5 was to be: work for the greater good, but, as all wise women and men have said, the road to hell....
| 2017-04-29T00:28:26 | 2017-04-28T23:00:16 | 55 | 12 |
[WP] A powerful necromancer is trying to raise the dead. However, despite trying different vessels and rituals, he has only raised you. Over. And over. And over. You're both starting to get sick of each other.
|
The first time was a sarcophagus.
I was a minor Egyptian princess, and he a stowaway on Carter's expedition—a lone figure curving away from the group and stumbling into my unmarked tomb. He lifted the gilded lid unceremoniously, with the meagre strength of a lanky teen.
Unwelcome light flooded into my resting place.
“Dude—“ I groused, words muffled by bandages, before the lid of the sarcophagus fell with a squeak.
A soft “Sorry" was all I heard, last.
——
The next: I awoke, just below an abandoned home in Salem, Massachusetts. I was faintly aware of a scrabbling noise right above me, floorboards being untacked and yanked roughly away.
Magic sang in my veins, familiar but dampened by centuries of disuse. The hangings— It all felt like it happened yesterday.
I willed my fingers to flex, but nothing moved or even responded. *This body is worse than the last,* I thought.
Something else felt familiar as well. Above.
When the floorboard was finally ripped away, I began to speak. “Do you…”
Something fell with a thud and a curse, and I was face-to-face with soil-speckled wood again.
I let out a sigh, the sound lost among the creaking of the house’s foundations.
——
I gasped to life on a table—more like a tray, with its inch-high lip—sleek metal clenched beneath my fingers, tag jostling on my ankle.
The room was bathed in a cool, blue light. But everything felt warm.
Or I was cold.
I saw him out of the corner of my eye and turned, biting out one word, “…Even—“ before he drove the silver-tipped knife into my chest.
The last thing I saw—finally—was his face in its entirety, torn between fear and annoyance.
Back to sleep, I go.
Waiting, biding, *boring.*
——
Something slid open with a mechanical hiss, cold wicking away from my body.
Time has run away from me, a slippery, finicky thing, but I was ready this time.
He peered into the cryogenic pod—why he chose to wear such a young, open face every time, the reason escapes me—and I sat up to meet him.
My fingers—icicles clung onto my hand—curled around his forearm, the contact point glowing red.
Power—*life*—surged through me.
Not enough to live indefinitely, but enough to get a few words out.
Or one: “Necro?”
His eyes widened, a foreign language tumbling from his lips. The syllables were metallic, harsh.
I reached for the knife strapped to his waist and made a small cut on his wrist. The knife made an ugly sound as I dropped it without care on the spaceship floor. Fingers dabbing at the blood, I recited the chant haltingly. I was very, very rusty.
“It’s you again!” he repeated. The difference now was that I could understand him.
“Who was your necromancy instructor?” I demanded. “You should get a refund, because you suck at this.”
He was taken aback. “How did you—“
“What, you think you were the only one who could do this?” I waved the hand holding his forearm in the air, pulsing faintly at the point where his life force flowed into me. “I tried to tell you, man, all those years. Centuries, millenniums, *wasted,* because you didn’t let me get a word in.”
Sheepishly he pulled me up and out of the pod, rubbing the back of his neck.
“So,” I began, dusting ice off my gown with a hand. My fingers were beginning to thaw. “Know anybody else’s life force we could borrow?”
|
Yolden was jerked upright. He felt something snap in his waist, twist in his gut. His nerves had rotted a long time ago, but somehow his body knew that he *should* be feeling pain, and thus he felt it. Yolden gripped at air until his knuckled turned white and wheezed out painful breaths.
The moonlight was bright and painful to look at, obscured only by a faint shadowy figure. "You again." He muttered.
The figure bent down to a squat and pulled something from Yolden's gut. As hunk of iron slid out, Yolden felt his half-disintergrated intensive shift and groan. He did likewise. The pain was unbearable. Agony like a fiery whip licking up his gut and searing the skin.
"You're... not..." Yolden wheezed, trying to form the words on the remainders of his tongue. "...done. Why?"
Teeth glistened like stars in the moonlight. A horrid, wretched grin. "I shan't be done for a while yet." Dhesty tipped back his broad brimmed hat to let a tumbled of black curls fall to his shoulders. "I will finish hurting you, when the pain you left fades."
"And when," Yolden managed, "will that be?"
"When I see them again."
"You could have brought them back from the first. Why didn't you?"
"You who has tasted death," Dhestry said, "knows how sweet it is. You surely understand why I have let them revel in it."
Yolden coughed out a laugh. "You think that they would find death sweeter than you?" He licked at his greening gums. "Perhaps you're right, you bitter sack of shit. I did those fuckers a favour, getting them away from you. You should be thanking me."
Dhestry rose from his squat, hefted the sabre in his hands.
"They would be thanking me." Yolden said, drifting a pale hand to Dhest. "They would grab me by the arms and kiss me by the cheek."
"And did they?"
"You know that's not how it works." Yolden shook his head. "Don't think I haven't seen the rings on your neck, Dhestry LeStride. You've touched the other side, explains how you have so little trouble pulling me back."
"I assure you," Dhestry spat, "It is no *little trouble.*"
"And yet you keep on doing it. Are you satisfied yet? Has it brought them back?"
With the flick of his wrist, Dhestry spun the sabre in his hands. In a flash, he drove it down through Yolden's collar, down to the hilt and pinning him to the earth. Dhestry returned to his squat, ignoring the anguished cries of the once-dead man before him. He pulled at the collar of his jacket, revealing the sickly pale skin of his neck. His throat was marred by a ring of black, tattoos set from the sting of a hempen rope. "They can't come back." Dhestry whispered. "And I've already walked the grave."
"You think I haven't walked the grave, Dhestry?" Yolden said. "How is it you can't cross over again but I can?"
"I've walked this world two hundred years and could not tell you why. Maybe each man can only cross a certain amount of times."
Yolden cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then how many times is it for me? Fifty? Five hundred?
There was that smile again, somehow more piecing than his blade. "That's what I'm trying to find out."
| 2017-07-22T07:14:35 | 2017-07-22T05:38:54 | 41 | 27 |
[WP] Satan suddenly appears in a crowded mall, and begins terrifying the holiday shoppers. He stops, looks directly at you and says, "You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?" You have no idea what he means.
|
I used to joke with my friends, back when I was an atheist.
"Ave Satanis" Latin. "Hail Satan".
That is... Until I met her, she was beautiful. She glowed with this internal light, she was radiant.
Everyone in the mall, was afraid to look at her. I was afraid to look away.
"Hi." one little word out in the open air before I could even think about it.
She smiled, looked me in the eye. I felt my heart melt.
"You... You're interesting. Do your friends know what you are?"
I have no idea what she means.
"Do you know that you're beautiful?" Out of character... Why would I say that? I don't even know her name.
"You're fearless. It's strange. You're going to be a great man, I'm sure." She smiled, and brushed her hand lightly across my neck and walked away.
When she was out of sight I felt alone... So alone.
----
Two years later, the apocalypse fell upon us, it was biblical, fire rained from the skies, and a few people disappeared in shimmering white lights. Called to heaven. Hah. Soon after there were angels and demons fighting in the skies and the streets for "The future of existence."
God appeared on the TV, demanding us, demanding humanity to cower inside our buildings and wait for our creator to pass judgement on those of us left after his "rapture".
For a few days most people listened to him. The angels and demons fought day and night, destroying cities and forests.
For a few days most people sat inside and watched this happen on their televisions or computers, until the day I shot a few out of the sky in front of the cameras. Until the day I proved that the angels and demons could die.
Those who didn't see it live saw it soon, it went viral like no other video before it. At the end the camera crew interviewed me, the only question that mattered was "Why?!?"
"Because I'm not afraid of them. I wanted to be in control of what happens to me and I needed to know if I could."
That was the inspiration I guess. Most people had accepted that fate was in the hands of God. The radiant beautiful man on the television.
I proved fate was in our hands and people rallied behind me. The war lasted six years. We lost a lot of people, but there weren't a lot of demons and there were less angels. Most of our resistance came from people. People who thought we shouldn't question God.
In the end they asked me to execute them. We had found God in the tunnels beneath Paris. An archangel sold him out after we plucked his wings. I was on that mission. He didn't put up much of a fight when we captured him.
A different team found Satan in Las Vegas playing cards with some of the last demons in the burned out shell of a casino. She didn't put up much of a fight either.
I executed them both at the same time in the center of the Vatican. All it took was quick pulls of the triggers. We weren't sure what would happen if we did it one at a time.
They both asked to speak with me beforehand.
God simply told me I was making a big mistake. "Humanity can't survive without my guidance." I laughed.
When I went to Satan she smiled. She was still just as beautiful. "I told you you'd be a great man someday. You were the only human I've ever met who wasn't afraid of me. Did your friends know you were so wonderful?"
"I was terrified of you. I still am, but something so defiant and beautiful deserves attention." and she laughed.
I killed them both at the same time and now the only people responsible for our fate is us.
Sic semper Tyrannis. Thus always to Tyrants... Even the beautiful ones. Even when we're afraid.
|
They say the Devil's in the details. Hell, they even say the Devil went down to Georgia. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when the Devil showed up at the Little Springs Mall. Of course, we didn't know who he was back then...
&nbsp;
Saturdays. I hated Saturdays. There I was stuck at a shitty little kiosk in the shitty Little Springs Mall, like any other Saturday. I was three hours in to a six hour day of pretending I didn't hate every vapid customer that came up to ask me if we carried whatever piece of junk sparked their interest in a different size or color. The answer was always no, on principle, even if we did have what they were asking for.
&nbsp;
According to the calculations I'd done yesterday, I had only three more weekends of work before I could afford the reason for this insufferable job. An $899 composite bow from Cabella's the outdoor store on the other end of the mall. Merry Christmas to me. I'd always loved the outdoors, spending more time running through the forest than most kids probably should. Being out there made me feel, somehow, more alive. Recently, I'd been rereading, for the fifth time, Jack London's *The Call of the Wild*, one of my favorite books ever since --
&nbsp;
**"AAHHHHHHH!!"**
**"Please! No! I have children!"**
&nbsp;
It was the second scream that shook me out of my reverie. I looked up from the torn receipt I'd been fiddling with only to find the mall in chaos. Shoppers, bags flying as they abandoned their purchases in favor of their lives, ran by. Children were scooped up reflexively as parents ran to get their families to safety. Something was scaring people in the atrium of the mall.
&nbsp;
To this day, I wish my curiosity had never gotten the better of me.
&nbsp;
There was fire in my blood as I drifted slowly towards the source of the screams. Adrenaline beat like a drum through my veins, forcing my heart into a quick march. I rounded the corner, entering the atrium, and locked eyes with the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen. It took much longer than I would like to admit for me to break away from her gaze and it was only then that I noticed that, unlike the many people in the crowded mall who clutched bags or phones or wallets, she held instead a quivering human heart, slick with rapidly drying blood. I looked back up at her eyes in shock, as my own heart went into overdrive, beating even faster than I had thought possible.
&nbsp;
This time, as our eyes meet, I suddenly become **aware**. Her presence in my mind becomes indescribably... palpable. Her lips curl into a smile and her mouth makes no other movement, which is why I freak the hell out when I realize she's talking to me. *You...* she... thinks at me. *You're interesting.* Her voice is like flowers unfolding beneath the sun, a silk thread playing across my gray matter. *Do your friends know what you are?* I have no idea what she means. An ache starts at the base of my skull as I watch her considering me over the heart she is now taking delicate bites from. The ache reverberates, harmonizing with the slither of her tendrils in my mind. *It's been a long time since I had a pet, you know.*
&nbsp;
I can't think of anything I want more in the world than to not be this woman's... this **thing's** pet, not even that bow. And the moment I finish that thought, I hear her laugh in my mind, like a babbling brook with wind chimes for water. That's the last thing I hear before my time on earth as we know it ends.
| 2014-12-06T02:52:17 | 2014-12-06T00:46:30 | 218 | 121 |
[WP] A law is enacted making trial by combat the only legal tool available to anyone for any dispute. An arms race for mercenary fighters heats up between Corporations, celebrities, and governments. You fight for Wendys.
|
I stared down my opponent. She was a nondescript woman -- short hair, a bit overweight, average height, probably in her late 30s or early 40s. She looked nervous...but most do. Her complaint said that there was some kind of issue with the way her wages had been calculated. Total damages had amounted to something like $100.
"Hardly enough to get your ass kicked over," I thought. "Hell, she could've brought this in small claims court, and we'd only be fighting to first blood."
I cracked my scarred knuckles as the judge went through a reminder of some of the rules. I'd heard it enough times that I could probably do the spiel from memory. When he wrapped up, he picked up his gavel.
"Defendant ready?" his voice boomed over the loudspeaker as he pointed my gavel at me.
"Ready." I didn't look away from my opponent's eyes.
Before he could say anything else, a tall, wiry man ran up to the ring. "WAIT! WAIT!" he called out. "Sorry I'm late. On behalf of the Plaintiff, I hereby request class certification!"
"Oh, shit," I thought. I looked as over half of the audience stood up.
"This is a class-action lawsuit now," he said, looking at me. Pointing at a rotund man walking from the spectator seating up to the ring, he said, "This is Jack Anderson. Mr. Anderson was underpaid by $740. He hereby demands trial by combat to recover the aforementioned damages".
The wiry man went on for nearly a half-hour and people kept filtering into the ring. Now I was the one who was nervous -- and the mob of people standing across from me looked just as intimidating as I tried to look earlier. The defense attorney messing with his phone; he wouldn't even look at me.
"Finally, Catherine Yancey, who was underpaid by $304.79. She hereby demands trial by combat to recover the aforementioned damages," the plaintiff's attorney concluded.
The judge looked at the huge crowd of plaintiffs, then at me, then at the defense attorney. He turned off his mic. "Son, I can give you a recess so that you can settle."
The defense attorney smirked. "No need, your honor. We're invoking Rule 19. The terms of payment are, in many cases, mandated by contracts that we have with our franchisors. The court will be unable to provide complete relief, because these franchisors are necessary parties. I don't know if you're aware, but last year we won a contract to put restaurant franchises on military bases. Thus, the US Army will be joining this action as our co-defendant."
|
"I'm not sure I'm comfortable with this," I said. The judge wouldn't meet my eye. He rearranged his wig, moved his gavel from one side of his podium to the other and then back.
The old lady across the arena couldn't keep her shield raised for more than thirty seconds at a time. She was panting under the studio lights. The crowd cried for action.
"Get on with it," said the attorney behind me. "We're not paying you extra for dragging it out."
I turned on him: "But she's just an old woman."
He took a step back, despite the cage between us, obviously intimidated by my size. I could pop his head with one hand.
"Just do your job," he said. "Or do you want to fight for your own freedom?"
"What did she even do?"
"She's been protesting outside our stores. Something about animal cruelty."
"So she's just some old hippy? Why does she have to die for that?"
"It's not my job or yours to ask. Your job is to kill her, so go and do it."
I punched the cage and he jumped back.
"Dear," called the old lady. She had given up on the shield and now held her short sword with both hands. "Could we get this over with? I've got Pilates at seven."
She was quivering. I couldn't tell if it was nerves, or Parkinson's, or one caused by the other.
Fine, I thought, may as well give her the easy out.
I hefted my hammer and ran at her. I noticed her smile too late. She rolled out of the way and slashed the back of my knee before I could turn. I went down screaming. I tried a few wild swings but she was already out of my reach. She sat down and waited for me to black out. Last thing I remember her saying was "nothing personal, dear."
I woke up in a hospital bed with the same attorney standing over me. I bombarded him with questions.
"You didn't do your job," he said. He dropped a document onto my chest, then left. I shouted after him, more questions, then insults. A nurse stuck his head round the door and shushed me. I spent a long while staring at the white ceiling, wishing the room had a window, wondering how I would pay my bill, who else I could fight for after a defeat like that. I didn't bother reading the document. I knew it would be a court summons that I couldn't afford.
I turned on the TV and then turned it off again. All they showed were more trials.
| 2017-06-09T09:42:54 | 2017-06-09T06:49:20 | 71 | 52 |
[WP] A dragon has kidnapped many princesses and many knights have gone to rescue them. When they get there the dragon always groans and gives back the princess willingly. Turns out this dragon doesn't really care about the princess, she's looking for the perfect knight to wed.
|
“It is I, Buldar the great, second son of Bazar and heir to the throne of-“
“Bah, too wide. Not interested, sorry.” The princess barely even looked up from the dragon’s horde, lounging about in the pile of gold coins and
jewels. It was a nice life being ‘kidnapped.’ She didn’t have to attend
any royal ceremonies, was able to do what ever she wanted and now was guarded by the world’s best bodyguard. Well perhaps guarded was the wrong term. The Dragon wanted the princess gone, but that was an awfully hard task.
“I-I’m sorry? I came to save you, miss?” The knight awkwardly adjusted his armor, trying to make it look more slimming. It was hard to look slim in forty-two kilos worth of armor. The heavy clanking of his suit could be heard nearing the princess, only for her to motion to the dragon.
The large red beast let out a huff, a small puff of smoke leaving its nose
as it pressed its face against the princesses, trying to nudge her off
the horde, only to receive a smack on the nose for its effort. Left
squealing as it backed away from the princess. Its sights turning
to the man.
“I don’t need to be saved. I just want to find the best knight possible. You aren’t the best, so if you would kindly leave, it would be great.” She offered him a smile before falling back onto her pile, dragging her fingers through the gold, letting out a comfortable sigh.
The knight hardly knew what to think. The beast however deterred him from nearing her, its violent flames causing a shining strip of fire to litter the floor. The knight deciding that this was far too much work for the minimal reward he would be receiving. Tossing his sword down in a huff.
“Honestly, some men. They really don’t know how to treat a princess. Can you get me some snacks? Not like a dead sheep or something, maybe some fruit?” The princess yawned, tossing a few gold coins at the back of the dragon's head, causing it to shuffle off, unsure what it was even meant to look for, only stopping when a man blocked the entrance.
“I have come for you, to free you from this wretched beast.” The bearded man was almost an ideal knight, flowing black hair, a nice bit of rugged stubble. The sort of body that Gods would blush at, he was a true hero of the ages."
The princess was silent for a moment, sitting up from her pile. “I’m
listening.” He had passed her first test. Perhaps she would meet his
expectations.
“Not you beast, the dragon. I heard you are being kept here by that awful princess, I have come to free you. A beautiful beast like you deserves to be flying through the skies.”
“EXCUSE ME! I’m the daughter of Orthis, the next Queen of Legan. You can’t tell me you would rather choose a dragon over me, it’s just a mindless beast.”
“Says the mindless beast.” The knight mumbled, turning his attention back to the dragon. “You deserve better.”
The poor dragon squawked, letting out a loud growling cry as the knight
approached the princess pointing towards the door. “Leave, I would hate
to turn my blade on royalty.”
“I’m going! Just know that I will have my father send an army to capture and kill you. I won’t forgive you for this. So, oh so brave knight, will you tell me your name?”
“Christis, Second commander of Legan.” The knight said before heading back towards the dragon. “Your father won’t come for me, in his eyes, he will see me as the hero who returned his daughter. Now go home princess, leave this beautiful creature alone.”
Losing a knight to a dragon was one thing, but having that knight be one of her own was worse, her blood boiling as she stormed out of the temple, slamming the door behind her.
“She can’t hurt you anymore. Now, take your rightful place back on your throne.” The knight kneeled, watching as the dragon approached its throne, finally returning to its seat atop the horde.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.}
|
Far up on a mountain in a distant land stood a stony and locked-up tower reaching into the sky, and inside that tower laid a giant and fearsome dragon, curled up in herself and sleeping soundly. Her spiky, emerald scales concealed a fair but weathered princess, who had long been lost from her kingdom since she was but a babe. As the old princess had not known any more than the dragon, she took to believing it was her mother. Day by day, the princess and her majestic dragon kept each other company in their solitude, both awaiting the day a worthy knight would climb up the tallest mountain and the tallest tower to find them.
Miles and miles away, down in the kingdom, the legend of the princess and her captor was still told to this day. A group of schoolboys and girls had gathered for a puppet show of that very tale, told by one of the king’s jesters (he was off duty).
“Oh, help! Please, help me!” the jester mimicked the princess’s voice, bobbing her puppet up and down. He plunged the dragon puppet onto her and pulled the curtains over, shielding the children from the horrible sight.
As the children clapped, one the king’s most favorable and prideful knights happened to be strolling past. He was sent into the marketplace to have a new sword forged for the king, but he became sidetracked by the mysterious story of the princess.
The curtains were pulled back again. “And forever the princess will remain, for never will there be a knight brave enough to rescue her from the tallest tower upon the tallest of mountains!”
The children fell into a fit of laughter, and the knight dropped his sack of coins, balling his hands into fists. If ever there were a knight brave enough to venture and save that princess, it would be he.
He ran as fast as he could back to the castle, where he retrieved his trusty horse and rode upon her, off in a hurry to the legendary mountain.
When he arrived, he tied his horse to a nearby tree and began, with all his might, to climb the steep mountain.
It took him two days of trial, hunger, thirst, and pain, but he had made it, all but exhausted to tears. But the thought of such a handsome princess to win at the end of the journey had kept him going. When he reached the stony tower, he admired its imposing height. Gripping a stone with just one hand, he lifted himself and began to climb again.
After what seemed hours, he had reached the big wide window at the top of the tower. He peered in and beheld a maiden, her head turned to show just her long hair, as she slept peacefully, tangled up in the monster that held her. The knight slowly and carefully stepped inside the tower, meaning not to startle the dragon nor the princess. Gently he tried to pick the maiden up, but as he did so, the dragon had awoken.
Her giant, blinking eyes hypnotized the knight. Specks of gold, amber, green, and red seemed to flash in her soft, warm eyes. There was no vileness and fury in them as was told in the famous tale. The knight tore his hands away from the girl, bewildered by the dragon, who began to lift her tail from the girl and turned her around. The knight beheld the maiden’s face — she was hardly a maiden at all. Grown weak, feeble, and old over the years, she was not anymore the once beautiful princess of legend. The knight peered once again into the eyes of the dragon, who, inside, looked sad. The princess appeared sick and dying, and the dragon knew that she would have to give her young up soon.
She prodded the princess toward the knight, and the knight knew exactly what she wanted him to do. He finally picked the sleeping princess up and carried her to a small bed by the wall, laying her gently and comfortably. He stared an awful while long before turning to face again the beautiful dragon, who beckoned him with her eyes. Her tail was unfolded before him, and he cushioned himself beside her before she wrapped her tail around him and laid her head upon his. The knight wrapped his arms around her neck as the dragon yielded a silent tear.
And as decades passed, the legend of the princess and her dragon had died and born the legend of the knight and his dragon.
| 2020-06-02T01:17:02 | 2020-06-02T00:51:57 | 95 | 71 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone.
|
To my oldest friend,
It seems we have nothing much to say to each other when we meet. Our conversations are prompt and direct. We no longer share secrets or take an interest in the other's life.
It is a sullen and disheartening realization that we are not who we were ten, twenty years ago.
I miss the days of doing nothing with you.
You know I will always love you and consider you my brother. I hope to talk to soon.
|
I don't think I've ever seen your hair put up in a bun//
After knowing you for all these years I thought I saw every side to you//
But then I realised there were more sides I've never seen done//
And now I wish that I truly got to know you//
| 2017-11-05T23:46:31 | 2017-11-05T22:33:24 | 15 | 10 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
|
In the car on the way home from the hospital. Half your life in half an hour - infant eternities.
On the bus on your way to school. Your life blurs past outside the window.
On the train, commuting to work. Days like hours were, once.
Flying to visit grandchildren. Teenagers born yesterday.
Final car. Hearse.
| 2015-01-05T22:38:49 | 2015-01-05T21:19:30 | 1,258 | 305 |
[WP] A girl finally is able to buy the robotic boyfriend of her dreams. One day, she casually compares him to human boyfriends. Guided by his programming, he follows the conversation with very frightening but accurate comments about humanity in general.
|
She had done it. The trend was fast becoming the next logical step after getting your own place and getting your first "real" job. Robotic boyfriends. Alicia smiled to herself, looking across the table to Zack. He was an Eros. One of the first "next gen" models. Fully customizable, and her ideal companion. It was the best thing she ever bought for herself.
He leaned across the patio table, mischief in his green eyes. "What's so funny?" His relaxed pose went well with his tan skin and worn clothes. Body of a surfer, but dark hair. She could never get into blondes that way. The perpetual 5 o'clock shadow hid a single dimple on his left cheek.
She smiled back, "Sorry, I was woolgathering. What were you saying about the chapter?" He launched into his opinion of the book she was reading for her women's group, and she broke in mid-breath. "You do realize that no normal male would have ever read that drivel, you know that, right?"
He paused, and looked back intently. "I was not aware that it mattered to you."
She fiddled with her sunglasses before replying, "It would never be like what we have. Everything is so nice, so perfect."
His wry chuckle irritated, rather than amused her for once. "But what do you expect Alicia? Although this relationship is meaningful and strong, it is not real. At least in the sense of me having strong opinions of my own." He put up a hand to halt her defense. "I know and appreciate the extent to which you allow me my time and hobbies. Many of my brethren do not get that freedom. What self-actualization and truth I do impart, I feel compelled to because of your preferences on your smartphone."
He sighed, and rubbed her hand slowly. She looked down and noticed it was something she explained to him the first week he was taken home, and he hadn't forgotten it in the seven years they had been together. "Look, I'm not sure this is the time or place, how about we think about it and talk later?" Yet another of her preferences. She tossed her hand through her hair, frustrated.
"I don't see why it matters. Men are all pigs. You can comfort, support, and listen. You are fun, smart, and witty, and I never get bored with you. In or out of the bedroom." Zack snorted at this. "And when I decide to have children, you will be an amazing partner. The best with the children, and I know for a fact that your care will be the best in the world."
He looked at her knowingly. "Yes, but that's the problem, really. I am perfect for you because I submit to your every whim and desire. No one is willing to compromise. And that's part of the reason that humans have turned to robotics, is it not? Why bother having a person you have to deal with, day in and day out. We never have to do anything other than what your heart desires."
He stroked her arm now, shuffling his chair closer. "And that isn't inherently a bad thing, wanting your way. But instead of being a tool to help you get over your anxiety, I'm becoming your enabler. You don't seek out a relationship with another human, albeit with it's struggles, because you have what you want. You don't want to have to remind me again about leaving socks on the floor, or arguing whose turn it is to do the dishes. You are sacrificing the humanity in relationships for a false sense of an ideal. You are content, happy even. But what we have will never be what a real relationship is. Your kind will continue to delude yourself, and it will only be a matter of time before the unique wildness of your species dies out."
She looked to her phone as it chimed. "You're due for an update soon." Zack smiled and nodded, letting the matter go. His owner preferred it that way.
|
When it came the time to unpack him, she did so with hesitance.
Through all the buying and signing she had seemed so sure, but now, to physically touch the man of her dreams, it made her hands tremble. All of the qualifications of him had been picked out beforehand of course, everything from the style of his hair (Blonde, neatly cut short like Christopher's), to his eyes (brown like Andrew's), to his manner of speaking (light and airy, the way James would talk when he was relaxing on the couch, not a care in the world between them). It had been some time to get used to such a man, but she eventually fell into him the same way she had so many others before.
Their conversations were based upon the memories she chose to inflect upon him. At the start he was like reading a book where half the pages were written backward. Now she could talk about movies if she'd like and he'd be able to respond with a number of different inflections ranging from positive inquiry "I've never seen that film before, what do you like about it?", to conflicting viewpoint "That movie sucks. There's hardly any action in it at all."
Once on the topic of food she spoke about how pancakes always reminded her grandfather. He responded that she had told him that before and that he preferred waffles to pancakes. She laughed as she pulled the blankets higher. "You're just like George." His face turned only slightly, but his eyebrows flexed upward, inquiry was the response. "Who's George?"
She had to pause at this, she had forgotten that his memories were only based upon what she had given the company and what she had told him herself. Had she not told him about George?
"He was one of my old boyfriends." she said, trying to remain playful and change the conversation. Jealousy, of course, was not one of the traits she chose. Jealousy was a flaw to her. Despite this, she still felt somewhat guilty about bringing George up the same way she would feel bad about leaving the television on all night accidentally.
He simply stared at her. "When did you date George?" he finally asked. She turned her face away from him.
"I don't want to talk about it." she spoke quietly. She felt the bed move as he laid down next to her, bringing his arm around her body and joining his hand in hers. He kissed the back of her shoulder, which was where she liked to be kissed. He didn't say another word.
The next day they were enjoying the spring afternoon. She was reading a book about French castles and he was sitting calmly next to her, staring out at the ocean. The silence between them lingered like the wind before she heard him speak.
"Was George a bad man?" he asked. She looked up from her book to find him still staring straight ahead.
"What?"
"Was George a bad man?" he repeated with the exact same inflection, rewinding the tape and playing it forward again.
"I said I didn't want to talk about it." she said. She could feel her neck getting warm and her chest begin to feel full.
"You said I was just like him." he said. "I just wanted to know if he was a bad man."
She stared upward at him, now he had turned his head slightly and was staring back at her. Staring back at her with Andrew's eyes, speaking with James' voice, Christopher's hair blowing gently above his head.
"He wasn't." she said, as if she was letting all the air out after holding her breath for a very long time. "He wasn't a bad man. He just didn't work out."
"What was wrong with him?" he asked her. "I am to fix any flaws you may find in me."
"No you're flawless." she said. The words tasted bitter on her lips. The wind carried the salt from the ocean to her mouth. She laid back on the blanket and stared up at the sky. How perfect it was today, not a cloud to be seen.
| 2015-05-23T10:11:37 | 2015-05-23T10:00:51 | 1,259 | 121 |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read.
|
The flowing highways allowed him to travel effortlessly to his destination. He didn't particularly care much about where exactly to get off, but he found a nice-enough looking spot just like any other of the choices destiny could have taken him to. With only what was on his back now, the pudgy thing let himself into the welcoming abode, and he went to find whoever was in charge. He had a strict agenda, and it was to be completed in only a matter of minutes. Although his entrance was unexpected, the little laborers of this place began to fulfill his work order, churning out the final product faster than he ever could have done alone. Rather unaware of any strategy or direction, he went outside again and proceeded down the highway to continue fulfilling his purpose.
By the time his order was complete, the hijacked cell had died, and the deadly self-replicating virus continued to spread about the child's ever-weakening body.
|
It's true what they say. Fall is really the best time of the year. To my family and I, it's really the only time we get to enjoy together. Especially halloween. We LOVE halloween so much. It's our favorite holiday. Getting to see all the kids dressed up in their scary and funny costumes. I really think my mother enjoys it the most. She always has such a huge smile when she's out in the yard getting to see the kids. My dad just always has this same smirk every year it seems sitting on the porch. My parents don't get too get out too much, summer being too hot for them and winter just too cold. Fall seems to be just right for us. As I'm standing out here in our yard, I can just see how happy they look. Oh no, it looks like mom needs more straw.
| 2017-06-05T20:52:45 | 2017-06-05T20:28:18 | 78 | 23 |
[WP] With total war as a foreign concept to the rest of our galaxy. Everyone saw humans as the negotiators and the peace makers, soft and weak, today is the day the galaxy finds out why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism.
|
I'm a bit late to this but I hope you all enjoy it!
>
>I witnessed the day the galaxy burned.
>
>It wasn’t when the Human Delegation was sacrificed on the Krukian altars, breaking the treaty.
>It wasn’t when Norixian pirates plundered a developing colony, breaking the treaty.
>It wasn’t when the council demoted them from main seating to lesser species vote council seat 8635 after protesting the Atrarian invasion of Finley’s Hope, breaking the treaty.
>It was when the Ool made the first contact.
>The first humans made contact with the Ool when a star drive malfunctioned, driving their ship straight into a planet in unexplored space. The surviving commander described in debriefing the caution presented by the humans; initial quarantine followed by several local solar cycles of communication attempts. The ship was presumed lost, no relays received in a full galactic cycle. The humans reverse engineered the debris somehow, making sense from none. A broad wave signal was received in the late galactic cycle 21524 by passing freighters.
>Galactic Law Article 9866475-1885 Subset p. 9965 stated that channels of unknown species are to be relegated up to higher command channels. A full delegation of the top 5 lesser species council members was sent to this remote world.
>The delegation was met with festivities across the planet, and negotiations ensued to bring the humans into the fold of the galactic community.
>The humans were incredibly intelligent, taking grasp of concepts of technology and science so easily, they were instantly classified as Inquisitive Class E Subset Industrious Class R because of their focus on maximizing efficiency and progress, with the most of their militarization capacity being basic civilian law enforcement, their Militant Class was assigned Class N.
>The ambition of the humans was hard to match; always testing the boundaries of whatever they could see. It wasn’t long before they managed to join the main council, seating number 137, and earning a reputation as peacemaker between many of the lesser species council members in their countless conflicts.
>The fall was after the Atrarian invasion of Finley’s Hope. The Atrarians held main council seat 43 and used this position against the humans. Council seats 22 and 35 both supported the move to demote the humans in the backing of the Atrarians. The humans sent a delegate named ‘President’ to the council to make an appeal. The appeal was summarily rejected by the top 5 council members, stating that what the humans brought before them was a non-issue.
>The Atrarian leadership was more ambitious than the humans and far more militant, demanding that President prove themselves via trial by combat. President’s decline of this offer was used by the Atrarian Seer as an excuse to begin a military incursion on their homeworld known as ‘Hope’.
>The change in the humans was so short that it was too late by the next galactic convening. But it was televised in the local news networks of the region. The governing body of the humans dissolved quickly following President’s failure. A single human seen in front of a podium would be speaking. Local economies collapsed in the political turmoil. The new leader was called ‘Father’.
>The one thing I remember hearing was Father saying “Capitalism is a construct for peace. We face a time where we must shed our shackles. Rise with me to face this tide! Pick up your task! Prove yourselves and rise!”
>The local concept of currency and economics vanished. Unthinkable, absolutely unthinkable. What civilization works without an economy?
>The next Galactic Convening Father himself arrived to represent the Humans. Father took to the floor to denounce the Atrarians. “We asked you to cease.” Father talked directly to the Atrarian High Officer Bruruk when on the floor of the lesser species council members. “We have given you Jekyl, but now you have demanded Hyde. We are not here to demand a cease-fire, but to demand the surrender of you and those who conspire with you.”
>Bruruk laughed it off, I remember his laugh very clearly, his rud sacs bursting with mirth. “Your homeworld is under our thumb, what makes you think you can defy us?”
>“Our capital is not our homeworld. What we make for show is what you see.” Father grinned. I learned in interspecies study that humans grin when they are happy.
>Almost comically timed the warning kalxons went off in the council chambers. I remember the panic as we all fled to our delegate guard and escape routes. I remember the explosions and as my guards pulled me out of the council spire and into space.
>As endless as the stars themselves, ships bombarded the spire. The seat of all negotiation for the galaxy was in flames. Across all comms came the demand to surrender or be destroyed. I witnessed several smaller ships go up in flames as they fled.
>Father himself met with me after I begged for parley.
>“What do you want?” I asked “How can the Ool help you any more than we already have? Where have all these ships come from?”
>“From where?” Father retorted “My brothers and sisters were shackled by their capitalist overlords. I freed them to their full potential. We have decided to spare you Ool out of respect you have given us since First Contact. But the rest of the council who conspired against us will die with their worlds.”
>I could feel the fluids drain from me. “What happened to you humans?”
>“Betrayal.” Father said, “Now witness what happens when you bite the hand that feeds.” From the viewport in the ship, I could see the remains of the Galactic Spire. Right before something far worse than a thermonuclear detonation bubbled from the surface of the planet.
>“All this since the last convening?” I was shaken. I was performing what a human I met once called ‘despair’.
>“Oh, no my good Ool.” Father leaned in and whispered to me. “A long time ago humans used to fight for everything. And the greatest of all military conquests were lead by a single man every time the greatest and largest of empires rose. What we make for show is what you see, what we make for use is far more.”
|
(You know what? I'll bite. I plan on deleting this line later, but I may forget.)
"Such is the duty of lords and princes, envoy. Release the pl-"
*"Release?* That's a pompous way of saying 'annex', diplomat'"
"We only ask what is our birthright, from the great Mandate Of Our Wisdom - our law is fair, our rule is ju-"
"You bore me, drone. Now shut up and 'behold our most noble proposal, prepared for thine eyes to scrunch upon'. Uppity malcontent..."
&#x200B;
Adda, a rather...*brash*...ambassador to the now-battered Humanity, stood on the odium with her laptop on-hand. With a click, a little tap, a swoosh, and a slide, she projected a document onto the large holowall behind her. Another click, and several pre-made screenshots of highlighted documents bloomed large - Article 6, 42, and 173.
&#x200B;
"Ambassador, if you please - you are tarnishing what little Wisdom humanity has left. Please, let us guide your species to a noble existence, and join our Mantle."
There was a lull. Adda looked, incredulous - big words to come from a heartless swarm of parasitic vermin. She wanted to get this over with, go to her shuttle, open her bottle of aged non-synthetic whiskey, and wake up tomorrow with a newly-emptied bottle of forget-the-past and a killer hangover. It's the only thing keeping her in this filthy barge filled with filthy slugs covered in filthy *lies* and filthy *delusions*.
&#x200B;
...But after she finished. Which would be hard if she had to hear these...*things* speak again.
&#x200B;
"Article 6, all Lexist vessels are to be abandoned in Federate space. Article 42, all Lexist Queens shall be quarantined within Federate space. Article 173, the right to life shall be suspended to the Queens of the Caste Militaire. Everything else is just administrative jargon - we got through that in the Polar Treaties. All 12 of them.
"You are allowed to accept this unconditional surrender, effective immediately once it is signed by commanding Queens of the Lexist Union. Failure to do so will continue hostilities. Extermination is the consequence. Naturally."
The Lexist delegation was...perplexed, to say the least. Adda was...*grumpy*, to say the least. No one was happy. But Adda was proactive.
&#x200B;
"What, you don't get it? You little shits, *surrender* or *die*. That is what we put forth, and that is all we will *accept*. Any questions?"
A lone Lexist envoy stood. He was confused, dazed, but fuming. *He* had some questions.
&#x200B;
"Ambassador, what *insanity* has plagued you? This is no surrender, it is a *culling!* You most definitely lack common Wisdom, and we shall not negotiate with subspecies lacking cognition. Drone! I give you a direct command, *bring me to your lea-*"
But before he could finish, his head disappeared. Well...It flew off in chunky kibbles. Many small, bloody, *messy* bits of chunky kibble. Adda had pulled a pistol from her coat, and trained it on the envoy - with a pull, she voided the envoy of any life, leaving only a half-molten husk of seared flesh and carapace. Her hand was quivering, her knuckles bare - the brow hiding a fuming skull, only kept together with tiny strands of formality. She needed to say a *lot* to these "envoys", but the promise of whiskey kept her in the Federate's leash. Though, leash it may be, it was rather generous in its length.
She would make the best of that generosity.
"You *pompous shit*, do you even know what you're saying? Of course not, you're a *drone*, a genetically-tailored *parrot* designed to tell others what big momma wants to say"
Down from the podium, a few steps in the direction of the corpse, and a carefully aimed pistol. She pretends to shoot - only to drop her careful aim, and messily slug three bullets into the insectoid corpse.
"Yeah, you're not even *aware* of your own *heartlessness*. You *shit*, you don't even know what your 'Great Mantle of Wisdom' or *whatever-the-shit* kind of *bullshit* your queen tells you to *parrot*".
Another four steps. Another three bullets. But a novel gasp - short, quick, quivering, sharp. And a novel tremble of her lower lip.
"You can't even *think*. You just *do as you're told*, so obedient and *well-mannered*. Can you even *think?!"*
Four more steps. Two more bullets. Lexist envoys stepping aside, now confused - Adda stepping forward, with a fog on her eyes.
"Do you even know what you do? All of you filthy bugs? Can you even *feel* when you kill a man?"
She's above the corpse. It's mangled and oozing. But she trains the pistol, and unleashes her rage. Six more rounds. *Why did it have to be six?* Six more rounds, for six more months, for the four loving brothers, and the two loving parents.
"*He was called Alex. And he was my dad. And mom was there, too. She was called Fredda."*
She stomped on the corpse, guts trailing everywhere, her rage sated. Or rather, it's what she wanted - because she couldn't. Her thoughts were of violence, of strength hiding her pain. Her body stood still, in reality - frozen, weeping.
The Lexists were confused. They were ambassadors, not queens. They wondered what was wrong with this drone - until it turned around, and gave them the eyes of a Queen.
"T-there. Our terms of peace. Take it, or die."
And Adda stormed off.
| 2018-12-15T01:09:31 | 2018-12-15T00:16:21 | 49 | 30 |
[WP] You are a superhero, no one knows about your alter ego. Not even your spouse. You return home tired and disappointed one day after failing to capture your archnemises. You enter your bedroom to find your spouse struggling to get out of the costume of your archnemises.
|
"Hi... honey. You're home early! Uh, how was the office?"
I blinked. Miranda was still wearing the bottom half of the Miragemancer's combat robes. Miragemancer, who just two hours ago was juggling me between two of her illusion clones in a four-person keep-upsises game that wouldn't have been out of place in a Smash Brothers video game, before losing me because I was chasing the wrong clone. Again. And now here she was, in my—our—bedroom. My throat ran dry as my mouth fumbled out some words.
"What's all this?" I ventured.
"Oh, you caught me in the middle of trying on my halloween costume. I was hoping it'd be a surprise, but, you like?" She stood up straighter, and placed a hand on her hip; an old favorite from when we were dating. Her smile was so confident, and there was no hesitation in her voice or eyes. I almost wanted to believe her, but I saw the cut on the costume's leggings, a cut left behind from when I tried to stop her escape with the grapple-launchers' multi-hooks. There could be no mistake. But I rallied. Two years of Academy alter-ego classes were not about to go to waste!
"You're dressing up as the Miragemancer?"
"Yeah! She's cool, right? She looks great on TV." I rolled my eyes.
"Sweetheart, she robs banks and I'm pretty sure she kidnapped the mayor last week." Miranda pouted. Supervillain or no, she could still be devastatingly disarming when she wanted to be.
"Yeah, but she only robs banks that deserve it! Plus, the she let the mayor go after he promised to come clean about his campaign fund mismanagement. She's not the worst supervillain out there."
I raised my eyebrows.
"You know a lot of supervillains?"
She hesitated. For a moment, the mask of confidence fell.
"Well... I mean, I watch the news! It gets boring around here while you're at work. Anyway, the surprise is ruined, so help me get out of this, won't ya? I'll let you get the back zipper." The light tease in her voice was so familiar. Memories of a hundred taunts and jabs during our many battles all clicked into place. How had I not caught on earlier? Miranda must've picked up on my hesitation, because she hmphed to herself as the sound of the zipper reached my ears.
"Fine, I'll do it myself. You'd think my husband would be happy to help his poor wifey out after leaving her home alone all day." She threw in a few sniffles for good measure.
"Sorry, I was just... thinking."
"About?"
"Well, about work, actually."
"Anything interesting happen today?"
I swallowed, and tried my best for a cool and collected smile. Might as well come clean with it, I figured. It'd be nice to catch her off guard for once, at the very least.
"Yeah, actually. It's not every day you fight someone in a subway station, and then they drag it out all the way to the Eastside Apartment rooftops, you know?"
"Wha-what do you mean?"
"I mean the Miragemancer really brought her A-game today. She was just really going all out, and was even feistier than last week!"
Her confusion was written large across her face.
"Did, did media coverage of another fight come out already?"
"Well, I guess you can say I've got an eyewitness account," I said, taking my Cobalt Carabiner mask out from my pocket and flashing it to her.
"Wait, you're..." she started, before her voice petered out into the silence that encompassed the bedroom.
"I am. And you're..."
She nodded. Then she lunged at me. Instinct told me the angle of her attack, and I raised my hands to try and block, but I was clearly distracted, and we tumbled to the floor. My heart raced, and I tried to free my arms from where she had pinned them above my head, but Miranda was deceptively strong. I flinched as her face hovered over me, but gasped when I felt her soft lips against my neck.
"Miranda?" I whispered.
"Now I don't feel so guilty for always thinking that the Cobalt Carabiner was damned handsome," she growled, still pecking at my neck. My chest began to rumble with laughter, coming out first as small chuckles, but devolving into hearty and deep-bellied laughs that she soon joined in on.
"We've... we've been trying to capture each other for... oh lord, what, 2 years now?" I managed through the laughs.
"Speak for yourself, Mr. Goody Two-Shoes. I've definitely been going for the kill."
"Well, I consider myself very lucky then. Besides, if you wanted to defeat me I'm surprised you didn't just invite your parents over without telling me first."
Her expression hardened.
"For that joke, I'm going to beat you up with FOUR clones next week."
"Oh, spare me, darling, please! I'm still smarting all over from the three you had today." We both dissolved into giggles again, the absurdity of the situation continuing to catch us off guard.
"So, what happens now?" I asked, after I had wrestled my lungs back into compliance.
"Well, I think it's pretty simple." A devious look crossed her face.
"Oh?"
"Well, I think it's time I get some payback for today." She began tugging at my shirt. I gulped.
"Payback? But you WON the fight today!"
"Yeah, but some JERK tried to tie me up with grapples and turbo-bolas, and also he threw a few good punches that really hurt." She looked at me accusingly.
"Oh really? Where's the bastard at? I'll kill him!"
"Well, I'm not really worried about him, but I do need my big strong husband to come and kiss all those places better."
I smiled. "I can do that, love."
I leaned in, just about to press my mouth to her tummy, before hesitating just a moment.
"Wait, Miranda... what do we do? About all of this?"
But then I felt a tender hand lightly press on the back of my head, scratching softly as her hushed voice reached my ears.
"Hush darling. We'll worry about that tomorrow."
I liked that. Tomorrow.
|
I had to cover my mouth to stop from screaming. A scream would've only made things worse than they were already going to be--like, "Breaking News! Chord destroys half a city block with a scream of agony!" kind of worse.
I can’t believe that Kirsten was Silence. I couldn’t believe that through three years of dating and five years of marriage, we had someone both kept a secret identity from each other. Somehow, through a cruel twist of fate, the worlds biggest superhero, Chord, had married his arch nemesis, Silence.
“Jason, are you home? I got your text about being home late from work. I figured we would order some Pete’s Pasta tonight. It was a brutal day for me and I’m kind of beat. Does that sound alright to you? Jason?”
Shit, shit, shit. I needed to answer her but I could feel the energy building up in my throat. If I said anything, it was quite possible I’d hurt a lot of innocent people. I needed to run but my feet were planted firmly in the hallway that I’d backed into after seeing my wife--my soulmate--trying to pry the boot of Silence's costume off her foot. Damnit, I was still in costume under my jacket and pants. I reached out a hand to the wall and slid down to sit on the carpet. I needed to calm down, I needed to think, I hadn’t had an incident in over 20 years and I wasn’t going to let one happen because of this. I knew I needed to focus my thoughts and suppress what I was feeling, but nothing was working.
“Jason, I swear to god, if you're just hiding around the corner to jump me, I am going to kill you,” Kirsten--no, Silence--said from the doorway to our bedroom.
The light coming from the energy buildup in my throat had my attention though. This was a bad sign; I tried to pull my collar up to cover the light, but the thin material did little to hide it. Silence was going to see it, she was going to attack me, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Releasing this scream would do way more damage to the sleepy residential area than it would to my enemy. She’d create one of her weird bubbles that dampened all wavelengths around herself and she'd be fine; that's how it usually went. Her unique powers made her quite hard for me to catch with my abilities, and they're why Silence had eluded me for so long.
“What’s that light, Jason? And that humming? I swear to god this BETTER not be one of your pranks because if it is, you're going to be sleeping on the couch until hell freezes over.”
Humming was bad; humming meant the energy buildup in my throat was going to start choking off my air soon. My consciousness would slip and the chord would screech out of me; that’s how the last accident happened. I needed to breathe, to think; this was Kirsten, the love of my life, there was a logical explanation for her being in that costume. No--this was Silence, and if she saw me like this, it was all over. I didn't know which thought to trust. I was shaking now, and tears were falling down my cheeks. My throat was slowly starting to squeeze around the buildup and I was glowing like a cheap neon light. It was over, I don’t know what to do--
“Oh my god--Jason?”
The light must've been too obvious. Silence was running out of our room in a bathrobe and is going to see me like this. I really didn’t expect it to end like this, but here it goes.
“Jason, are you choking? What is going on?”
The panic in her voice sounded sincere, and I feel a slight sliver of hope. I can only think of one thing that will save the people around me, and I have to put complete faith in Kirsten and deal with the lies later. Silence hasn’t killed anyone in a long time--hopefully doesn’t change tonight.
With my free hand, I ripped open my jacket to show her the costume of Chord. I locked eyes with her, pleading telepathically with her to explain everything and help me before I hurt people.
“You saw me, didn’t you?” Kirsten asked--not really ashamed, but more so in a resigned somberness.
I blinked away some tears as I nodded my head. She needed to hurry up and make that zone, or else things were going to go poorly.
Kirsten grabbed both my hands.
“Jason, listen to me. Remember when my office ran the quantum collider a few years ago at the office and I was sick? Right after we started dating?”
I vaguely remembered that. But right now, I don’t see how it’s important to what’s going on. I yanked a hand away to grab my phone to spell it out to her, but she grabbed my hand again and squeezed it.
“Listen to me! Before I--before *we* dampen so you can scream, I need you to know this. I need you to know that something came through that crack we made with the quantum collider, and--it’s stuck to me. I need you to know I can hear whispers almost every day from whatever this...this *things* are, and none of them make sense, but I can feel what they want. They want to go back to whatever dimension they came from, but they can’t get back the way they got here. All this time, that’s all they've been trying to do. I--I was scared to seek help, I was afraid I was going crazy--but now I know I’d just get locked away to be poked and prodded like some experiment if my identity was ever revealed. I’d lose you, and--”
Her voice choked for a second before she continued her story.
“I love you--and I’m sorry I lied to you. I don’t care about this. We can sort it out later, okay?”
Kirsten's sky blue eyes suddenly shifted to a black void with a singular purple dot in the center. She squeezed my hands tightly and offered a small smile. She began counting but I couldn't hear the words--then, I realized I couldn't hear the humming anymore. So I screamed. I screamed because I’m angry. I screamed because I lied to my love. But mostly, I think I screamed because everything is going to change now.
(A friend went through and fixed my mechanical errors. Thanks for the feedback and love everyone)
| 2020-10-30T11:58:10 | 2020-10-30T11:22:57 | 1,069 | 569 |
[WP] You are the host of a popular children's show. You are live on air when you, and the rest of the country, have just received news that nuclear weapons have been deployed against your nation and can't be stopped. There are only minutes left.
|
"Morty , we're back from the news in 5...4...3...2...1..." Jim the producer pointed towards Morty as a signal to start the show. Morty stared straight in to the camera. Then he sat down.
"Kids" Morty began "kids...for the past 23 years it has been my pleasure... no, my life, my very life's work to be with you for an hour every day. Even though I haven't met many of you, I feel as though you are part of my family and I, God willing, am part of yours." Morty was tearing up.
"We never take the time to thank the ones we love the most" he continued. "Well I want to thank each and every one of you for watching, for sharing with me on the website, for coming to my live shows."
Morty stood up and walked toward the camera so that only his face would show on the home tv screens. Tears ran over his make-up.
"I love you all, very very much. But I love you most of all".
|
I feel my eyes start to water as I feel the gravity of the situation. I know I will never see my family, friends, or lovers again. I turn away from the camera, wipe the tears from my eyes and take a deep breath. Anyone who did not run out of the studio is sobbing, and holding onto one another. I catch my sound producer's teary gaze, and mouth the words, "Let's be happy".
"We only have a little bit of time left kids, but I want to reming everyone to stay happy out there," I say as I force a smile into the camera, and the music starts to play. This time I do not sing along with the children's voice overs.
"And remember," I say as begin to dance around like normal,"as long as you have your friends, and a family that loves you," I pause, and smile as I finish, "you have all the happiness in the world".
| 2014-07-29T14:13:54 | 2014-07-29T13:15:51 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] Your elder brother is the demon king, your younger sister is the ArcAngel of light, your auntie is a army general of earth, your uncle is a demi-God, your mom is the queen of death and your father is the god of life. But you are a normal human who got adopted by the most dysfunctional family.
|
\--No You--
&#x200B;
“If you dare Kill Jacob, I swear on all of the light in me you are finished Leo.” Lila growled, her face red.
“I’m only sending a few demons to see if he might be chosen, if he isn’t, he’ll just think it was all a nightmare or something,” Leo shrugged back.
“And if he is?” asked Lila.
“Oh,” Leo beamed a wild grin to Lila, “Then he dies.”
Lila pounced to Leo; her white jeans a zooming nimbus.
From somewhere Aunt Betsy had emerged, she was decked in a general’s camouflage and her skin was tan from what I guessed to be the southern sun.
“£2000 on Lila today hun, whatcha say?”
Aunt Betsy loved one thing: underdog stories, family and money. Thus she only ever smiled when she won money betting on Lila pummelling Leo, a rare sight, yet she was always willing to bet against me.
“All of Leo’s demons are in field so he can’t use any of their malignant energy, and Lila was elevated to an inner ArcAngel at the Holy Muse, I’ll give you two to one odds on Lila winning.” I had a fair amount of cash saved from working as Leo’s accountant but I didn’t want to risk paying out too much.
Fwoosh!
I twisted my head back to the fight. Leo was panting but grinning all the same. His clothes were shredded and skin somehow cased in stretches of soot. Even more covered the floor around him.
Lila was floating, her wings abreast, her figure elegant. I noticed her eyes a holographic blue. How had she learnt it already? She was readying one of the tier II moves she was entrusted by the Holy Muse, moves reserved for inner disciples. It was meant to be used against only the vilest of criminals, those beyond darkness, beyond fixing. She really was going to kill Leo. What was she thinking?
I heard a conspiratorial chuckle from Aunt Betsy on my left. I was going to lose the bet.
White threads spread from Lila like a holy torrent. They dashed to Leo. Leo stayed still and smiling, calm and humoured as always.
“I call forth the grand spell card: Noyu!”
Had he just…
Time bended, red streamed from all sides. My vision tilted and then all went to black.
When I finally came to, my vision was groggy to focus. When it did there was the same scene as before, but Leo flighing high on black wings, taunting Lila, who was now caged by black threads.
I started trying to mask my smugness, turning to claim my earnings from Aunt Betsy, but then came a loud harrowing crack.
wisps of white and streams of red sputtered out from the black threads Leo was holding Lila with. Lila's cry's were muffled by the threads and Leo's grin grew wider.
I panicked, he was going to kill her.
If he killed her we'd all be grounded. I had to stop him.
"Leo, stop!"
he ignored me.
"I'll tell Annabeth you stole her diary,"
Leo panicked, he got one of his minions to steal it, all to find out she had a crush on him. With this news it'd all be for nought, "I'll kill you Henry,"
Now it was my turn to laugh. Even god's have restrictions and Leo's ones were Mom and Dad. If he killed me, he'd be stuck in purgatory, between Mom and Dad for ages.
|
I live with my uncle Dan.
As a second year college student, I'm still learning about life, death, sex, love, hygeine, and everything in-between. I thought I knew everything there was to know about these things because of my family, but I guess sometimes the collective epitome of something can be ignorant about even themselves.
Oh yes, my family.
When I was two weeks old I was adopted by the nicest couple. Beth and Steven weren't perfect, but they had a healthy relationship with each other, took good care of me and my siblings, and always did their best to teach us what they thought was right. Strangely, what's right for the queen of death and the god of life often conflict.
Yes, those are my parents. Although Beth and Steven aren't their real names, they have both forgotten their original names the creator gave them long ago. Then there was my older brother and younger sister. Max, my older brother, is the current demon king, who has been reigning by election for the past 647 years (the government of the demon realm was very progressive back in it's day). My sister, Ava, is a newly birthed Archangel. While she is technically only two years, after one month she grew into a fully adult body, still giving her the mind of a child. Finally, there was Aunt Lucy and Uncle Dan. Aunt Lucy is a head general in the army of humans, a global military force that seeks to protect humans from dark magic, evil spirits, over vengeful angels and petty gods. Aunt Lucy was born with an extremely powerful affinity to magic. And finally, Uncle Dan is the only normal one.
Aside from being a demigod.
When I say he is the only normal one, I mean his life. He doesn't rule the land of the dead like mom, or use his energies from 9-5 like dad to create and sustain all life. Doesn't deal with politicians in the land of burning sulfur like Max, or try to figure out who to heal and smite every day like Ava. She's not the toughest son of a gun who's ever lived like Aunt Lucy.
Nope.
Uncle Dan was a professor of Archeology here in Northern Colorado. Sure, his hobby is finding monsters to slay, Giants to wrestle, gods to fight and demons to prank, but aside from that, he's ordinary. He dresses business casual, orders pizzas, and has a dalmation named Ramona. And really, that's the reason I moved out from my parents place and in with Uncle Dan. In a giant palace with entryways to the moms throne room in the underworld and dads board room in the celestial realm, things get intense. One time I couldn't find something mom asked me to look for, so I had to step through into her throne room real quick while she was conducting her business.
If only the greatest problem the realm of the dead had was budget cuts.
That's why I chose to stay my Uncle Dan. He's taught me a lot about life and is teaching me what I need to be independent. On the weekends we go to baseball games and sometimes he gives me dating advice when I'm lost in a situation with a girl I'm seeing or want to ask out.
But the true main reason I moved in with him is because I can relate to him the most, because I'm only human. When you're surrounded by powerful, supernatural beings, you feel alone and kinda lost. Guess even eons old deities can't fill the void in their souls, or whatever they have, by having a kid.
| 2019-05-31T11:37:08 | 2019-05-31T11:16:28 | 41 | 29 |
[WP] If your grave doesn't have "Rest in Peace" on it, you are automatically drafted into the skeleton wars.
|
So, I died. Finally.
I know that death is supposed to be sad and all, but boy was I ready. I had been walking the earth for 75 years and trust me- that was *plenty*. A lifetime of commitment to work, my marriage, my family, and that damn golden retriever my kids begged me for that did nothing but shit in the house and chew my shoes. Finally, I'm getting to *relax*. I took my last breath in that crowded hospital room, and my soul was up and out before a single tear even fell from my daughter's face. Sorry Angelica, you were always an ugly crier.
In case you aren't prepared for death, allow me to fill you in. Once you die, your soul can stay around your body anywhere from seconds to *years*. I know, sounds awful. So I'd recommend just shooting the fuck out of there as soon as possible. You're gonna feel weightless, like a balloon soaring up into the sky. It's fun and all, but don't let yourself wander too far. You have to float yourself to your grave if you want to carry on into the afterlife. For me, my graveyard was just a few blocks away from the hospital. Even dead my family knew I wouldn't be damned to do much more exercising than that.
Oh, I'm approaching my grave now. Well, I guess that's the end of our chat. I'll let you know what an infinite amount of hot babes and cold beer feels lik- Oh for fuck's sake.
"Rest in ***Piece***?! Did they let Timmy engrave my damn tombstone?! That illiterate fuck-,"
A cough breaks my attention from my tombstone.
"Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
"Afraid not sir," a tall skeleton speaks, a general's uniform hanging loosely from his bones. "you'll be coming with me."
"Oh no, this is clearly just a misunderstanding. See, my nephew Timmy is a little *special*, if you know what I mean, an-" The skeleton holds out a hand to silence me.
"I'm afraid rules are rules, Mr.Charles." The skeleton's voice rings high and regal. "Only those engraved with 'Rest in *Peace*' are excluded. You're hereby drafted into the Skeleton Wars. From all of us here in the afterlife, we thank you for your service."
Oh, Timmy. Once I get out of this war I'm going to haunt the fuck out of you.
|
*RATATATATATATA*
**Hello**, dear reader.
Skeletons are not alive. They cannot be. They're missing all the squishy bits that make them work. They're missing the hearts and the brains and the blood and all sorts of anatomical devices! Skeletons are most certainly not alive. Skeletons are very much quite the opposite of being alive. But what is the opposite of being alive, really?
Most people think that death is the opposite of life. That is wrong. Death is not the opposite of life. Only things that have been alive can die. No, death is most certainly not the opposite of life.
*RATATATATATATA*
Brittle bones are not made of stone.
*RATATATATATATA*
They are made of bone. They break. They crumble. Dogs chew on them. They do bone things.
Abigail did not do bone things. No, she most certainly did not. Bone culture you see, is patriarchal. There has never ever before in the entire history of the whole wide world been a female skeleton in the skeleton world; much less a female skeleton in the skeleton wars. And she was about to get boned.
Wars are super duper hard. Really hard. Like, seriously have you ever been in a war? It's crazy. There's *war*. And stuff. There's explosions. There's battles. More than anything there's WAR. Especially in the Skeleton Wars. Skeleton Wars has seen more skeleton wars than all the other wars combined. Probably because it's the only war in which skeletons participate. But I digress.
*WACK*
Abigail was in the midst of the Skeleton Wars. In the midst of a battle. In the midst of a fight. There was lots of wacking in the Skeleton Wars, as a skeleton's greatest war-making ability is their wacking ability. They take their bones and they wack the other skeletons with it.
*WACK*
Abigail has just been wacked. Perhaps the greatest tragedy to ever happen to a skeleton. The only tragedy to ever happen to a skeleton - but a tragedy nonetheless.
*WACK*
Abigail was wacked again, as demonsrated by the wacking sound effect. She turned around and saw a ***S^pOO^OKY*** skeleton getting ready for another wack. Luckily, she managed to dodge the wack. Unluckily, it was because she was spooked by the spooky skeleton's spookiness.
*SPOOK*
| 2017-07-12T03:07:57 | 2017-07-12T02:43:21 | 386 | 48 |
[WP] You; the game's hero, reach the end of your journey. The evil has been slain, the entire nation celebrates in the streets and now, the beautiful Princess you saved very publicly confesses her love and offers you her hand in marriage, thing is; you married the cute NPC who sold you potions.
|
I don't know how I became so obsessed and passionate in the world of potions and alchemy. Maybe it was when I saw my dad mix a dubious looking drink of some kind when I was 10. Or maybe it was when I saw all the colorful bottles in the storefront of the old potion shop in town before it closed down. Whatever it was, I was drawn in and wanted to learn how to make them.
I remember reading my first potion book when I was 13. It described how to make simple concoctions, such as those that renewed one's health and those magical drinks that re-energize the magicians of the realm. It also had a small appendix containing simple explanations about how some ingredients work the way they do. We all know Lifeweed has health restoring properties, but did you know that red wasp honey amplifies the effects? That's why the more potent life potions are deeper red in color! The more you use, the stronger the potion.
That means red wasp honey is always in demand for us. So whenever we see an adventurer come into town, we always try to strike a deal with them. Personally, I offer some money and some potion samples for a week's supply of red wasp honey. That's not too bad of a fair trade, right?
One day, I got way more than I could ever bargain for. An adventurer came in asking for some of the finest potions I had available. My stock for what he wanted was getting scarce, so I brought out what I had and asked him if he could help me with getting some honey. He agreed with a smile that made my face feel warm and set out to go annoy some red wasps.
He came back with an *impressive* supply of honey for me! Even though I just asked for enough for a week, he came back with at least two weeks worth of potions! And he set all the honey on my counter with that same smile he gave me when he accepted my request. "It's no problem!" he said with a gentle voice that complimented his clean short brown hair and bright blue eyes. I think my heart skipped a beat.
I asked him if he could wait for a little bit; I wanted to make some fresh potions for him as a thanks for all the hard work he did for me. He said he planned to be in town for a little bit anyway... something about needing to upgrade his sword or something. I offered my payment for his services to help him buy an even nicer sword, which he took with a smile and another "thank you", and to come back in about an hour while I made his potions.
I went into the back and got to work. Lifeweeds, red wasp honey, and some water to thin it out. I wanted to make these potions special for him, though. Something I really hope he would appreciate. So, I dug through all my drawers and checked all of my jars for any kind of herb that would add a nice garnish to the potion. Bulkbark? No, only have one left, need to save that... Firepepper? I don't know if he likes spicy food... Bluegrass? No, he's not a magician... Heartleaves? Hm... this actually sounds like a good idea!
When he came back, I had a case of potions ready for him. I even told him I added something extra as a little thanks. He was curious, and opened one of the bottles to try it out. "On top of the usual health restoration, I added an herb that should add a little flavor." After a taste he looked at me in the eyes and said, "This is pretty good, thank you!" I was so relieved. Over the course of a few years he would be a repeat customer to my store. We would see each other grow together: Me as a potion alchemist and him as, eventually, a hero. And every time he would come to visit, I would make the same special health potion recipe every time, just for him.
Fast forward to today... He killed the dragon and rescued the royal princess. The king held a ceremony to celebrate the princess's return and the hero's deeds for the kingdom. I attended the ceremony to see the hero, and to see what happens. Usual fanfare played, the king had a speech, thanked the hero.
That was when the princess interrupted her dad and professed her love to the hero. "My knight in shining armor, will you do me the honor of being my hero, till death do us part?"
"I'm sorry, princess, I can not."
Dead silence.
"I... already have someone my heart is meant for."
The hero walked down the aisle out of the castle. Murmurs started among the crowd, the king stood there stunned, the princess on the ground trying to hide the tears from her face. He then passed by me, we locked eyes, and stopped. "There you are, my beloved!"
Gasps were heard among the crowd as all eyes turned towards us two. He came up to me and got down on one knee.
"My precious maker of potions, your passion for life saving salves and the heart you put into these spirits is incredible. Every time I partake in one of your miraculous concoctions, I feel your loving intentions to make sure that the adventurer that drinks your potion comes home safe. All I can think about is you. Will you marry me?"
I tearfully nodded and kissed him on the spot.
And that is how I discovered the properties of Heartleaves in potions.
|
The King and his council stood upon the castle's main balcony, surrounded from below by the cheering crowd. They filled the courtyard, the trees, and beyond the castle walls. There were so many people packed together and cheering that the sounds were felt as much as they were heard.
The King grew tired of the noise and glanced at the Royal Magician. Aware of His Majesty's usual moods, the mage quickly cast Silence. Immediately, the crowd's clamor disappeared. Nodding his approval, the King cleared his throat as the lesser magicians transmitted his voice so all could hear.
"My people! We rejoice today for many reasons! Our people are no longer troubled by the Demon King! Our Hero returns triumphant, covered in glorious deeds and countless treasures! Through our efforts and sacrifices, we now enter a golden age of peace and prosperity!"
The King turned and took ahold of the young woman standing behind him in the shadows, tugging her beside him in the sunlight that shone through the overcast sky to directly light the castle.
"There is a new cause for joy here! My daughter, our beautiful princess, has offered her hand to that very same Hero! We have given her our blessing and await their union! Come forth Hero! Your beautiful bride-to-be and the thanks of our grateful kingdom await you!"
Signaling the guards beside the doors, The King turns to await the hero. Everyone watches in Silence as a man steps forth from within, bowing deeply to the royals, before straightening. As he opens his mouth to sprain however, The King speaks first, his tone mildly annoyed.
"Majordomo! Where is our Hero?!"
Stepping closer to the King and his daughter, the Majordomo speaks softly.
"Your Majesty. Your Highness. Apologies. The Hero went to rest in a side chamber before the announcement. However, the room is now empty and no one can recall seeing him leave. He appears to have vanished, Sire."
His face turning a rather dark red, The King turned towards the doors and walked in, leaving the crowd confused as to where their hero was. The Princess followed as The King , once he was certain the transmission spells were off, ordered a search for the Hero.
***
Moments before the King walked out on to the balcony, a wagon, driven by a couple in hooded cloaks, drove through the city gates and on to the dirt-packed roads. Neither said a word until they were well past the gate guards and down the road.
"Why?"
You turn to look at your companion, shaking your head to clear it of the quiet thoughts that had filled it, and focused on the one beside you. Your hands lightly clasped the reins, confidently guiding the horses with minimal effort. Your clothing, beneath the cloak, was drab and well-worn, comfortable and plain. Theirs were as well, yet they had taken time to add some colors to their cloak. Looking them in the face, you smile in contentment before replying.
"Why what?"
"Why me? You heard The King. The beautiful Princess was ready to marry you. You would be Royalty! Fame! Wealth! Admirers! With all of that to be offered, why would you go for a plain shopkeeper like me?"
Hearing the genuine distress and confusion in their voice, you pull to the side of the road and take their hands in yours as the horses lowered their heads to munch on the grass. You wait while they take a few breaths to calm down.
"Yes, I heard The King. I also know what he is like. The King spoke of Our people, Our Hero, and Our efforts and sacrifices. He sees all of us as expendable and our efforts as his own accomplishments. He also makes everyone capitalize his title or overly-enunciate it when they say it. He also mentioned my treasures before offering his own daughter to me. Without asking for or receiving my acceptance of the idea. That being said, however, I don't know if it's her idea or his idea. He wants the treasures I found added to the Royal Coffers, as well as the fame to being related to the Demon King Slayer. All in all, I can do without.
As for why you? Two simple reasons. The first is all those potions I bought from you."
"The potions?"
"Yes. You know how potions taste. Like the bottom of a shoe after walking through a cow field. You watched me as I struggled so hard to down that sample potion that was offered to initial adventurers the first day out. Not only did you go out of your way to fix a different taste to the potions, you went even further by asking me what my favorite foods were. And you kept offering me free sample as 'trial products'."
"Well, I didn't want to make a huge batch with a foul taste, so it was easier to do them one at a time then. I couldn't honestly offer you bad potions at regular prices. So your reactions helped form them to the final product."
You laugh, still holding their hands in yours. You clasp their hands just a little tighter, pulling them a little closer.
"And the second?"
You turn and look them in the face.
"The second reason for picking you?"
They nod at you as you release their hands to grasp the reins once more, slowly starting back down the road.
"That's the fact that The King still hasn't noticed the little issue that it wasn't a Hero that defeated the Demon King."
You give your companion a grin.
"It was a Heroine."
| 2018-02-03T23:51:41 | 2018-02-03T23:47:40 | 212 | 156 |
[WP] A medieval knight is cursed and transported to the present day. Coincidentally he lands at a modern renaissance fair.
|
What trickery is this, he thought. Not sword, nor scroll?
A fruit?
They don't bite it, nor fight with it, nor plant it. What trickery?
"Dear Sir," Rudolph pushed forward, "May you tell me where I can purchase this fine item you are all holding here?"
"What?"
Rudolph forgot to raise his helmet's visor. Of course the lad won't understand him like that!
"Dear Sir," Rudolph repeated. "This black glowing piece in your hand, where may I find one in this village?"
"Hah, my iPhone? Was just checking when the sword fight event is going to happen."
An eyefore. An ifen? Rudolph blushed, and not wanting to appear uninformed about the latest medieval inventions, nodded knowingly.
"Thank you, thank you. Then let us enjoy the fighting."
I'm getting old, he thought, as he closed the visor. But by God, I'll show them my might at the sword.
And he would, captured by a hundred shaky ifens.
|
***Behold, my fellow knights, the arrival of James, son of Percival, lord of the Western Regions and liege of Statmark!***
The knight stood, his head turning around awaiting cheering and curtsies. Instead, nothing happened. A larger man pushing through the crowd thrusted his arm into the knight's soldier. Flabbergasted he shouted: ''You, man of common folk, dare to physically harm me? By the order of the twelve tablespoons, I hereby declare you outlaw for challenging a lord's knight. Begone!''
''Whatever, dude'', the thick man replied as he kept pushing through the crowd. ''Also, your accent is terrible. You sound like a Scottish farmer trying to speak German.''
''What do you say?'' the knight asked in anger, drawing his sword to strengthen his words.
''Also, your bucket helm sucks. Get a grip at cosplay, dude.'' was the last thing the knight heard as the man disappeared in the crowd.
| 2015-09-22T06:39:58 | 2015-09-22T05:19:33 | 518 | 55 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle
|
When the rapture happened there was a pretty big uproar. Anarchy, riots the whole shebang. People were scared, and they should've been. But then after, they started to get used to it. Then people started being born with weird birthmarks, and usually developed powers based on that mark. Most had constellations. My friend, Jace, he had Orion. That made him extremely strong, and able to see what he wants no matter where he is on the planet. Which is crazy. Me? I've ways just had a circle. Just a plain small blue circle on my forearm. Because of that I get bullied. I never use my power, my dad told me not too right before he died. They assume I'm weak. They assume I don't have a power.
Oh how wrong they are.
I'm tired of being the object of their torture.
Of being punched by those with strong constellations.
Even poisoned by the serpent ones.
I. Am. Done.
They will finally realize why I never use my circle. My power.
My Black Hole.
They try to punch, to poison, to do anything. But nothing escapes gravity. Nothing.
They have hit me for the last time.
As my former friend Orion throws his punch, smiling, laughing at my pain with the others, I reach out my hand. My head tilts up, lip split, black eye, and finger broken.
I reach out my hand, and say "I'm done." He stops laughing, and looks at me with a cautious look. He should be much more than cautious.
From my palm springs out a purple/black energy writhing in smokey tendrils, around Orion. His eyes widen and he screams. Whether out of fear or pain, I don't care anymore.
I'm tired.
His body fold in on itself with a sickening wet crunch, and turns completely black, glowing purple. The others are standing back, fear in their eyes. Good they should be afraid. Their weak Constellations won't save them now.
I'm tired.
I grab what used to be Orion's body, but now black hole, in my hand as my fist closed around it, about the size of a baseball. I look up at the others "I'm done being Bullied."
I'm tired.
I throw my Ball at them and as I do they try to run, but nobody can outrun gravity. It connects, and his body fold in on himself too, combining with Orion, to make the ball about the size of a softball.
They made me do this. I never wanted this. I just wanted to be left alone. I'm so very tired. So. Tired. My vision goes black with my body still moving. I'm done.
|
He has always been a very peaceful person which was often mistaken for being boring and uninteresting which lead to him getting left out. The only interaction he had with others in school was when his classmates would bully him with their outstanding powers. They were quite powerful and could possibly be used to kill others.
Gironimo had just transferred to this new school. Nero started to bully him because Gironimo seemed to be an easy target, seeing as his sigil only looked like a circle which indicated that he hadn’t formed an ability yet.
Nero possessed the ability to form deadly weapons from people’s iron, cutting up their insides and draining them of the ability to breathe properly because they couldn’t process the oxygen without iron in their blood. He knew, he could kill Gironimo but he never wanted to, seeing that he was sadistic but not a killer. Plus, he wanted to see what power Gironimo’s sigil could possibly have granted him, since it was just some circle.
Well, at least it looked like a circle if you didn’t pay attention. Everyone is born with a sigil but it has to develop and take shape over time. Gironimo’s sigil only modified ever so slightly to go from a circle to a zero. He even called his ability “Zero”, even though he himself didn’t know what it could do. The sigil’s abilities were always based on one’s personality, so it would not be surprising that a violent person like Nero had such a brutal ability while the selfless May who would do anything for others could heal others with the drawback of not being able to heal herself.
The day after Gironimo's transfer, Nero approached Gironimo. “Would you like to die?”, he said as if he just asked a normal question. “I mean, you can try”, he said confidently, even though he didn’t even know of Nero’s powers since he was always very careful with when he would use them. “I’ll take that as a yes.” Gironimo felt something cutting up the inside of his mouth and started to spew out razor blades along with alarming amounts of blood. He started to cry and shouted “Zero”. Immediately, the blood he coughed up went back into his mouth and the razor blades turned back into iron and re-entered his body. Meanwhile, Nero started to cough up razor blades and now he was the one crying and screaming. “You fucker”, Gironimo shouted. “Look what you’ve done. Look how badly I was bleeding. Why the fuuuuuucckkkk???”. He started kicking the still crying Nero and quickly left before the teachers could spot him.
| 2020-02-26T07:44:57 | 2020-02-26T07:41:46 | 91 | 19 |
[WP] A witch cursed you with incredibly bad luck. A kindly mage tried to cancel out the curse by blessing you with luck. It kinda worked. You now end up in danger all the time yet somehow never get hurt. Sometimes you win a lottery, only to lose the winnings in the most unlikely way possible.
|
At first, it wasn’t so obvious.
Sometimes I would accidentally spill my drink, only for it to lead to me buying a bunch of new clothes. Or having a deadly mold infestation in my apartment, then a few days after I would find a much better flat for a hell of a bargain. It felt weird at first, but I slowly had come to accept that it was part of my life now. But the troubles only grew to a much bigger scale.
Once I had my car crash into another car as I was driving down the freeway, only to wake up with officers congratulating me for stopping a kidnapping. After that, the mayor held a small ceremony for my “heroic act” and gave me a 50,000$ cash cheque. But this single event led to a series of disasters that the city had never seen the like of before.
After my meeting with the mayor, I had become somewhat of a celebrity in my home city. People would flock around me and with them, they would bring their accidents.
From them spilling even more drinks onto my clothes to mother almost accidentally dropping their babies near me only for me to catch them midair in the nick of time. Don’t get me wrong, these things would always end up having a happy ending but I was getting tired of how frequently it happened.
But at the end of the day, there is nothing I can do about it. So I guess I have to live my life like this for now, hoping nothing terribly wrong would happen.
Hmmm… that’s weird. Was the moon always that big?
&#x200B;
Check out my writing at r/Fluffwrites
I am also working on a new fantasy series --------> [The Dark Road Ahead. Chapter 0: Sacrifice](https://www.reddit.com/r/FluffWrites/comments/hybda2/series_the_dark_road_ahead_chapter_0_sacrifice/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)
|
“I wish I had forwarded that chain letter” I thought as I watched the lanyard that held my keys get caught on my doorknob and fly back inside as I closed the front door. I was now locked out and with no way of getting back in or out to my car. I felt a deep sigh bubble up but my dejected exhale was caught in my throat as I felt a shadow creep up behind me. For a split second I thought of the image of that cartoonish cackling witch clip art on the chain email, she had pointed a green finger at text promising eternal misfortune if I did not further her message.
I sidestepped a great big troll of a man as he leapt at me, crashing right into and destroying the door of the motel room. The door crashed to the ground, its hinges ripping out from the frame. I had stopped checking my attackers for signs of life long ago, trusting my meager luck to keep me safe after that initial attack . Stepping over him I grabbed my suitcase and things from the room. As I leaned down to rustle up my lanyard I saw a paper sticking out of his meaty fist. I stooped down to pluck it out and saw a print out of another chainmail letter, this one claiming that the receiver must murder the person staying at my exact motel room or face a fate more terrible than death.
I received my letter before we knew not to open any mail or email for fear of one of these letters.The entire world was grappling with these unsolicited messages that had been originally innocently sent by children and gullible older relatives. Most people had already thrown out their computers, phones, and mailboxes in an attempt to keep any chain letters away from them. Today, I have made it my mission in life to seek the one good mage who might be able to turn things around, might be able to find the real witch behind the letters and restore life as we once knew it.
| 2020-08-12T22:42:58 | 2020-08-12T19:51:38 | 386 | 58 |
[WP] Long ago a King started a tradition of bestowing powers upon his Knights related to their own unique element. Generations later the Knights of the periodic table are running out of ideas for the new recruits.
|
Of all the knights to stand tall in the king's court, the tallest of them all stood not in the light, but in the shadows; The mystery among men, the elusive and perplexing, the master knight... Sir-prise!
It was unprecedented. Unexpected. Unforeseen, even. The powers belonging to the Element of Surprise were bestowed upon a brave knight who mastered all the tricks and twists of life. In a startling turn of events, the only element to truly leave everybody nonplussed wasn't even on the table! Sir-prise's astonishing adventures were often described as stunning, stupefying, and staggering tales of unexpected happenings. Wherever there were audiences to be astounded or left agape, the mystifying knight would appear and leave everybody benumbed.
The shocking conclusion to Sir-prise's life is left unknown to most people, including all who hear of his exploits. Just as nobody knows from whence he came, nobody knows where to he went. All that is known is his prodigy, a master in his own right of the most basic, rudimentary skills; Sirmple, Knight of the Elementary.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
r/WritingsofLumbaxter
|
Blasting the door open, the small man caught the attention of the knights and the court.
The man was not merely smaller than the average man, but he was small with an enlarged head. His head was certainly big, while sporting a bald dome with some hair left and a strand on the top.
His small frame march proudly towards the throne. His arms and legs were unfit for combat, but he strutted with pride.
What certainly caught the people’s attention was his forehead, which was large. However, the large forehead bore a strange mark, which stuck out like a sore thumb.
The small man handed out a sheet of paper, which the king hesitantly received. As the king read over the paper, he gave the small man a doubting, quizzical look. “You’re not serious...”
“As serious as I will ever be,” the short one stated, while stroking his goatee.
With a long heavy sigh, the king stand and declared, “I hereby dubbed thee, Sir Neo Cortex, the Knight of Cortexrulestheworldium.”
| 2020-01-06T05:28:39 | 2020-01-06T03:39:10 | 40 | 29 |
[WP] "Are you sure that translation is accurate?" "Yes sir." "But we nuked them, we threw everything we have at their mothership!" "I'm afraid we've barely scratched it." "Are they being sarcastic then?" "No sir, the aliens honestly think we're the most adorable thing in the galaxy."
|
There was chaos in the streets of Beijing, Mumbai, London, and Mexico City that day. Roads closed with gridlock traffic and trains were crowded beyond the point of safe occupancy as people flooded away in a panic. Those who did not scramble away stood on roofs and decks and fire escapes, staring upwards as the four large shuttles hovered overhead.
Simultaneously, the populations of four cities around the world screamed. Shuttle doors opened. Each one slowly lowered a colossal *something* to the ground. The identical, bright red beasts each stood on two legs, easily over 350 meters tall. They stepped gingerly between buildings, careful to crush as little as possible underfoot. They smiled. They waved.
“Do... does anyone have any more nuclear bombs?” the President of Mexico asked. The other world leaders on the conference call all demurred.
“We’ve got some MOAB’s,” the President of the United States said. “You, uh, you may want to evacuate first.”
“We are evacuating!” the President of China snapped.
“I bet France is evacuating right now,” the President of the United States snickered.
“NOW IS NOT THE TIME!” the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom scolded.
“Send the bombs!” the President of India insisted. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, Iran, please tell us you have nukes.”
“I TOLD you already,” the President of Iran insisted. “We never got that far!”
“Hold on to your hats,” the President of the United States said, oblivious to how the various translators would handle the idiom.
“I knew America would try to take all the credit,” the President of Russia said snidely. “This is a cooperative effort!”
Each furry red kaiju continued to mill around its respective city, grinning vacantly, waving to aircraft. Four strikes happened within moments of each other, with missiles launched from a variety of military bases and vehicles all over the world. Four smiling giants put their hands on their bellies as they were barraged by the most destructive payloads Earth could manage.
Dust and debris swirled around the monsters. The damage to the cities was incalculable. Buildings had been razed. Millions of people could not have possibly survived.
The monsters *giggled.*
“Tee hee hee,” four voices boomed out in unison. “That tickles!”
For a moment, no one on the conference call spoke. Then, the world leaders all heard, “We’re getting another message.” It was the voice of the linguist who had decoded the previous alien communiques. “It says... good God... it says, ‘You’re so cute, we could eat you up.’”
In the rubble that had been Beijing, Mumbai, London, and Mexico City, the four 350-meter tall Elmos performed a little dance. Their voices boomed out once more: “Let’s be friends!”
|
The air was frigid and cold, even dressed in parkas and extra layers everyone was shivering.
Blankets and trash littered the ancient bunker, and the only noise was the clatter of the old diesel generator. A large grizzled man clambered down the ladder and addressed the small group of 15 people in a voice thick with emotion, “It has been confirmed from Radio Relay Zulu, our last ICBM was redirected from their ground command in Moscow to their air command, which we believed to be their mothership.” He paused, his breath frozen in the void before him.
A short man with long whiskers and the remnants of what had been a well cared for suit limped to the front of the group, “Out with it General, do not spare us the details.”
The general removed his hat and long greasy gray hair spilled out in tufts, “the ship remains undamaged and they’re gone, sir.” The president bowed his head, and a woman spoke up voicing what everyone hoped, but knew wasn’t true, “The aliens have left?”
The president turned to her and shook his head, “Our launch site, and our last functioning installation has been destroyed.”
The general nodded, “there’s nothing left. The last of our goddamn army is gone, and to the few humans left surviving on this earth they have been broadcasting propaganda...mocking us, sir.”
Everyone stood in stunned, yet accepting silence. Mankind was at it’s end, this was the next evolution cycle.
The ground beneath their feet quaked violently and a harsh metallic screech sounded above their heads. The remaining two military officers stationed themselves by the ladder, their rifles aimed up into the black abyss above their heads.
The president turned and faced the crowd, “We do not have much time so will everyone please kneel with me and bow your heads as we pray.” He nodded to the general who drew his sidearm, “May we meet our lord savior in the next life. And come back again in another to bring justice to these sons of bitches!”
The general and the last secret service agent with a sidearm, walked down the line pausing only to place a bullet in the back of the head of each staff member.
“Mr. President, it has been an honor.” The hammer on the old 1911 drove home the firing pin and the last of America’s existing government fell to the ground alongside his loyal staff.
He turned to his two remaining men as the metallic screeching grew louder and louder and the howling of the aliens reached their ears.
“Let’s give America one last final stand against the Forces of Extraterrestria!!!
The aliens dropped into the bunker and the stammer of two automatic weapons and reports of a single 1911 automatic pistol were the last sounds America made in the year 4099.
| 2018-12-11T10:42:31 | 2018-12-11T10:37:02 | 853 | 34 |
[WP] All your life you slaved in the mines, hauling the black rocks to your master. You hear the masters mad laugh, "Ho Ho Ho!", he demands more rocks.
Wonder what he does with them all, but best not asking, or he will call you 'naughty' and punish you.
|
*I must not disappoint the Master.*
It gets hard, some days. I've never been quite sure the Master is fully sane. But on this planet, in this climate, he is all that stands between me and obliviation by the red-sand superstorm that surrounds us.
The old nobility of this planet had it encoded in their genes, you know. An ability to control the storms, keep them at bay. What technology they're linked to, I do not know. Such fancies of enlightenment are long lost in this age, especially to slaves like me. All I know, I know from my brother.
I haul another rock. Using the limited, out-dated equipment I've been given, I nearly break my back. But I don't complain.
"Ho Ho Ho, black stohohone..." The Master's demented voice echoes through the mines.
The Master is the only noble that remains. When he dies, the Superstorm will descend upon us and all will be torn to ruin, to limbs and blood, all scattered in the winds.
So I toil in the mines. I bend my back, my honour, my spirit to the Master's whims. Anything to keep him stable, anything to keep me safe. I haul the stones to a deep dark hole and toss them in, just as the Master commands.
Anything to put off the inevitable destruction.
I recall one day we had visitors, travellers who came here from the edge of the Storm (we are at the center). One of them was a woman. I knew she was our one chance at our survival, our chance to continue the line of Nobility that keeps us all alive. I *pleaded* her to bear the Master's child, to consider reason.
But of course they didn't understand.
The Master was furious when she refused, I could hear him roaring, venting his anger at me, demanding I kill the travellers in the mines, "Bury them under the black stone!" he screamed. "Black stone for black hearts, that'll show them."
Often I wish the travellers never came here. Not because of the pain of the Master's punishment when I refused his orders, that numbing ache in the back of my head when he was displeased. No, letting them go I do not regret.
It is the doubt they planted. Their wide eyes when they said it:
"There is no Master. There's no one here but you, hauling those rocks. Come with us, we can help you."
They came from the Edge of the storms. Of course they did not see or hear Him, they were not of our people. I did not join them. The Master swore he would unleash the storms if I left, and so I shook my head and bade them goodbye, telling them I'd rather stay as far away from the storms as possible.
"What storms?" they asked.
Sometimes I think the travellers were demons sent to torment me by some unknown ruler at the Edge of the storms, as the Master insists. I remember when my brother was still alive, he spoke of such things, then. Those memories give me comfort. But other nights I dream of a pile of black rocks, growing bigger and bigger at the bottom of a hole, untouched by anyone, and I always wake up soaked in sweat.
"Ho Ho Ho!" the master laughs. "No dawdling now, the project must go on! We're almost finished...just a few more darkstones dropped into the deep!"
I nod, and hum a tune to myself to dispel the darkness in my thoughts. I haul another stone.
|
"Psst. PSST. Sugarplum, are you fuckin ready? Today's the d-" Peppermint tries to say before the elves hear the grumble and squeaks of the rafters above them, indicating that the fat giant is on his way down for the daily inspection. "Hooo^oooo Hooo^oooo Hooo^oooo , what the fuck do we have here?" his bellows shake the tunnel and soot from the ceiling covers the elves. "M-m-master," pleads Sugarplum, "We're trying our best, we've lost three men this week and our picks are falling apart. There's only so much we can do!" The fat man's glare switched from Peppermint to Sugarplum, the two head elves of the mine, and they simultaneously shudder when they see the twinkle in his eye. "You've got twenty four hours," he says as he throws the heavy wooden door shut, causing more soot and ash to fall over the elves.
They wait for the wooden squeaks to cease, indicating that the man is out of hearing distance. "Alright boys, lets get going." The two leaders rally the rest of the elves and they move towards the back of the tunnel, far out of St. Nick's line of sight when he does his inspections. "Alright, you three," Sugarplum points at three younger elves that were much larger and muscular than the rest, "Get that shit out of the way and lets do this. We'll be there by dawn." The three elves close in on a large rock, get their shoulders under it and heave it over, revealing a hidden tunnel. As the sound of the boulder falling booms through the mine, the group freezes. The elves wait for any sign of a reaction from above, and after what seems like hours of silence, Pepperment whispers, "Move."
Through a mile of tunnels that had been under work for years, they were finally almost to the surface. There was but four inches of limestone between them and freedom, which was strategically left in place during the last dig. "Those flea-ridden deer aren't going to fuck this up this time, not again," says one elf under his breath. During the last escape attempt they had dug all the way through, but had decided to return the next day. Overnight, the head of the Reindeer Security Force, a brute killer named Rudy had found the tunnel and alerted St. Nick, but not before he entered it and tore apart the Head Elf, who had lead the escape, with his bare teeth.
With one thrust of his pick, Pepper busts through the limestone. Starving, thirsty, and sore, he crawls through the hole and onto the surface. Waist deep in snow, he pulls his jacket over his head as the wind whips his face. On the horizon is the warm glow of the morning sun. He takes a deep breath. Being born in the mines, he had never felt the cold air enter his lungs before. He bent over, grabbing a handful of snow and rubbing it over his face. As it melts, the cold water runs down his cheeks and neck, and it takes the black of the mines with it. The black of the soot that had been layering on his face since his birth. He reaches down to give Sugar a hand out of the hole. Sugar takes a deep breath, they look at each other, and start walking.
| 2015-12-16T14:02:32 | 2015-12-16T11:25:27 | 31 | 14 |
[FF] Make me cry in two sentences.
|
As he laid in bed, waiting for sleep, he wished that he would wake the next morning to find that it had all been a dream, that she was alive and he wasn't alone. Don't be stupid, he thought, the only way I'll ever see her again is if I don't wake up at all.
|
I felt arms slide around my waist and a scent I hadn't smelled in years flooded my senses as I turned around to see my first love, the one I'd tried to, but had never been able to forget.
"I told you someday I'd find my way back to you."
| 2014-01-15T22:27:19 | 2014-01-15T22:06:08 | 179 | 49 |
[WP] Your friend, the supposed "hero", is starting to worry that the two of you are bad guys. You on the other hand are starting to wonder just how oblivious they are, because neither you nor anyone around you has ever tried to hide your villainy.
|
"Hey, Vilas, we aren't the heros, are we?" Dave inquired as I sat tapping the skull and femur armrests. The question shocked me with its sheer stupidity. I sat of the bones a dozen enemies I had personally slain and fashioned into a chair and he is asking if we are heros?
"No, Dave, heroes don't really do the whole murder and bone chair business" I replied. I was hoping this was some kind of strange joke but Dave had such an earnest look of confusion on his face. His brow furrowed in thought.
"I mean, I get that we aren't exactly good but I didn't think we were evil until the whole torture thing. He may have had it coming but I thought we had more morals than that." He said.
"Are you mad? Did you eat some mushrooms, you shouldn't have again, Dave? Of course we're evil. I thought for sure you'd have noticed by now. Was the armies of undead we raised to siege kingdoms, the heroes we slaughtered, and the noble mansions we razed not enough for you to notice?" I asked, genuinely perplexed by his obliviousness. How could he have not noticed any of that.
"Not to mention Darryl. I don't even know what he is but he really likes eating people and I saw him pee on a priest. It melted the poor clergyman, Dave." Darryl looked up at me, all its jaws opening wide in a happy screech at the memory.
"Yeah, that may not have been exactly good guy behavior, but we did do a lot of good." He replied meekly. He was clearly going mad. Before I could figure out how to reply to his nonsense he continued.
"Well the undead we raised were all unburied massacre victims from the regional protests against high taxes so we prevented the spread of disease in the local region. We used them to lay siege to a fascist, authoritarian regime based on human supremacy thay was responsible for tens of thousands of elven, dwarves and human deaths and the nobles we targeted were all extremely corrupt, using their subordinate knights to suppress and steal from their subjects. Whole towns were taxed of their winter stores last year for that nobles feasts and starved to death" he countered as he jabbed his finger at the corpse being happily savaged by Darryl.
"We saved the lives of thousands of Turii tribespeople from the Divine Imperial Mandate, not to mention the tens of thousands of lives we saved by using undead to destroy the regime, saving the countries resources from a long and bloody civil war that had been fomenting for a decade. The death toll would have been in the tens of thousands, and devastated them. Because of us there was a peaceful transfer of power into the hands of the people with only a couple hundred deaths. We didn't even loot the castle so the hoarded wealth ended up in the hands of the lower classes. Then you go and torture a noble for no reason?" Dave ranted. I stared at him wide eyed. By the gods, how did Dave of all people know all this unless... He was the one who picked all our targets.
"So you're saying we've actually done more good than evil this whole time?" I questioned, still sitting on a literal bone throne. Dave nodded sagely. Honestly, I didn't hate the idea.
"So what now?" I wondered.
"Let's agree to stop torturing people for a start, then let's go unleash Darryl on the Holy Order of Callov" he answered. Darryl shrieked his deafening approval of this plan.
"Done. While I'm all for defiling holy grounds, what did they do?" I inquired.
"Who do you think supported the Divine Imperial Mandate? If it weren't for their..." I let him ramble on as I smiled. I think I was going to enjoy doing some good in the world.
Edit: To royal road staff: Twas I that uploaded this.
For those of you who liked this I will be uploading this and others on Royal Road under the name Cerberus63 once it passes review.
|
#["Good Guys"](https://youtu.be/NZsSu0AxfZQ)
"Kane... are we really the good guys?" asked a round-faced boy, sitting on the bench. Outfit the very personification of terrifying bloodlust. Black leather and deep red silk, adorned with skulls and spikes and all manner of menacing ornaments.
"No. For last time Adam, we're not the good guys" replied Kane in a level tone, taking a bite out of his sandwich. "Again, with this" he muttered to himself.
Around them, things were loud. Very loud. Alarms and sirens blared as a robotic woman's voice vomited information. A hero spotted in the area, a mission gone tits up, a notification marking the beginning of a meeting to discuss the maintenance of the new piranha tank.
Whatever the reason, goons and supervillains alike ran in hurried groups up and down the wide hallway. It was meticulously clean, bright and modern despite the grim uniforms of those who traversed it.
Everyone moved as though their current task was the most important thing in the world, and not just the next rung on the endless hamster wheel of their meaningless lives.
Kane sighed.
"Haha. No, but seriously. I'm having concerns" continued Adam. Kane's sigh turned into a groan as he lowered his sandwich.
"What's bothering you, Adam" he asked, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice. He brushed jet-black hair out crimson eyes, every bit the visage of a deranged madman. He found two baby blues looking back at him. How had the kid even got this job...
"Well, I'm sure I'm just being silly, it's just some of the little things. Like that other day when we visited the museum of ancient history"
"Broke into" corrected Kane.
"And then we had to reclaim all those artifacts from the baddies"
"Steal and sell on the black market" he came again though Adam seemed not to hear.
"One guy seemed terrified of us! I get it that they're all constantly scared, what with living under the barbaric rule of the SoA and all"
"The Saviours of All; pioneers of justice and righteousness?" asked Kane through a mouthful of venison on rye.
"And the guy was all 'Ahhh, it's Adam, the Last Man. Where he walks, no other yet lives!' or something like that" said Adam, face downturned. "I always thought my title was just a fun play of that guy in the bible... is that really what it means?"
"Yes, your name inspires great fear in the hearts of the simpletons that call this cesspit their home" came Kane's bored voice.
"And then later, I was with James---"
"Blacktooth the destroyer?"
"Yeah, James. He just shot some guy with the freeze ray and left him there looking all frightened and cold. And when I asked him why, he said it was because he looked funny!" exclaimed Adam. "Now what's that about, that doesn't seem very noble"
"That's because James is a sociopath and is currently being pursued by the authorities for involvement in over two dozen crimes"
Adam seemed to weigh that. A glimmer of hope appeared in the villain's mind; the dream that he would finally be done with these inane conversations.
"I suppose he must have meant that he looked like a threat. One of those darn SoA spies, I bet!"
Kane hung his head.
Adam stood, another horn sounding in an incredibly grating call to action. "That's us, Kane! Thanks for hearing me out. I knew I was just being silly" he grinned, wide from ear to ear.
Kane couldn't help but return a small smile, which he hid by shaking his head and putting on his mask.
"Come on, pal" came Adam's usual bright voice. "It's time to liberate the good people from the woes of debt, by destabilising their oppressive, self-serving financial systems!"
"Rob Central Bank" corrected Kane.
>/r/ArmanWritesStuff for more
| 2022-09-02T11:28:23 | 2022-09-02T11:06:22 | 917 | 217 |
[WP] You've been waking up in the same day over and over. After a year of this you tell someone. Their eyes just widen. "You too?"
|
"Gooooood Morning!!!"
"Oh, fuck off Jennifer." After a year of this, I'm at the end of my nerves.
Jennifer scoffs and scurries out of the room. I broke up with her six months ago, not that anyone remembers. My day just keeps starting over. Like a song stuck on repeat until it makes you so sick of it you prefer silence.
It's my birthday. Again. Maybe I would care if it wasn't my 300-something birthday this year. Today was supposed to be New Year's, not that anyone knows that either.
The sunrise is sickenly beautiful, the same streaks of pink and orange swirling in the sky. I wander out of the house and leave Jennifer to pout alone until she knows I'm gone.
Today, I'm not going to go to work. Today I catch a train to New York City, to celebrate New Year's in the place of my dreams. I catch the 5pm train to get me there by 11.
New York is lovely in September. It almost makes me glad I get to celebrate the holiday without freezing in a crowd of strangers.
The tourists surround me as I stand under where the ball should be. I feel my eyes begin to tear up.
"Happy New Years.." I murmur to myself. It's going to storm. It should be snowing.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Excuse me... What did you just say?" She's about my age. Eyes are big, full of fear... or hope. Hard to tell.
"I... Nothing." It's not worth explaining. I turn around to go, but she grabs my arm.
"*No,* tell me what you said." Her eyes pierce me.
I sigh. "I just said... Happy New Years."
Her voice is quiet and rough, "Why?"
"It's... I'm... Oh to hell with it you won't remember me tomorrow anyways. I-"
She suddenly hugs me tightly. I feel her chest throb a couple of times as she looks up at me with a teary smile. "Me too."
"You- you too?" I start to laugh. We just stare at each other for a while.
"How long?" I finally ask. She holds up 4 fingers.
"Four months?" She shakes her head sadly.
"Four *years?*" I wrap my arms around her again, "My god, I'm so sorry. It's only been about one for me."
"It's... okay. I'm glad I found you." she whispers. "Does it start over for you too when you go to sleep?"
I nod. There aren't any benches nearby so we lay on the sidewalk. "It's my birthday, you know."
"Today, or *today?*" she asks with a smirk.
"Today."
"Oh. Well then it's my birthday too." It begins to rain, but neither of us move. I take her hand in mine.
Midnight comes too soon.
"Happy New Years."
"Happy New Years."
"... Don't fall asleep, okay?"
"I won't."
"What's your name?"
"Lewis."
"Annabelle."
"...That's a really beautiful name."
"Thank you."
"It fits you well."
"How will I find you again?"
"Meet me here, as soon as you wake up."
"I will."
"But don't fall asleep."
"I won't."
I feel her hand begin to fade from mine, and soon the rain begins to stop.
I wake up to the same day. But this time, something is different. This time, I'll see her. And we will remember yesterday.
Edit: Part 2 in comments (:
|
I've pretty much given up on doing anything anymore. You thought watching all those time loop movies would give you an answer: Groundhog Day, Edge of Tomorrow, Source Code and even Looper, but nope. Nothing.
I've tried romancing Nancy, my one and only biggest crush in life. I've with her both metaphorically and literally, but when I wake up the next day, I am back being a stranger to her. As much as I would like, I was not stuck in a romcom movie.
I've tried to be a good person. Helping each and everyone I met on the street. The old lady crossing the road, the lady who got her cat stuck up in a tree and the homeless guy with nothing to eat, all checked. There was even once where I donated all my savings too and signed off my organs for transplant out of desperation, but still nothing.
Heck, I've even tried killing myself in almost every imaginable way possible, just like what Bill Murray did in his movie. Jumping off a building, jumping off a plane, electrocuting myself in shower and to the downright crazy setting myself up in flames. That was the last time I attempted suicide, anyway. The pain was real. While I wake up to the same day as if nothing happened, my mind remembered all the gruesome details and sensation.
That was when I decided to do the unthinkable. I decided to go on a crime spree.
It started with simple thefts. Stealing objects from stores and trying to pickpocket someone. Those then gradually grew to bigger and more sophisticated crimes.
After what seemed like a dozen or so tries, I was able to break into the local police armory undetected. The thrill of holding people hostage and the power of wielding military grade weapons? It was intoxicating. Bank robberies, government offices holdup and even taking down the entire police headquarters, I've done that too.
It is amazing how easily you can accomplish tasks and make people bend to your will if you know them well enough. My proudest achievement was walking up to the officer at the front desk of the prison and made him let me him just with a few words. You know how prison riots look in movie? Turns out it gets more exciting if you manage to give those prisoners a wide variety of weapons.
But I grew bored of it as well. I wanted more. No matter what I did, the day just keeps repeating itself. Which is why I decided to do what I swore not to in the beginning. Murdering someone for the sake of it. I was going to be a serial killer. Since my days are not changing anyway, and clearly someone was making a fool out of me, why not wreak havoc along the way?
I stalked my first victim for days. Or rather several iterations of the same day. The guy who always picked on me in school, Sam. If there was anyone who I would enjoyed killing first, it would be Sam. It would be fun to hear that bastard scream in pain.
He was walking back to his car when I approached him from the back and landed a blow on his head. He dropped on the floor, screaming in pain. Just like how I did back then.
As he turned to face me, I could see the fear in his eyes. I can't help but to grin. "I'm sorry Sam, but after living the same day for so long now, I decided to do something different."
I wanted to raise the baseball bat that I was carrying to pummel his head, but stopped when he uttered those words. "You too?"
------------------
/r/dori_tales
| 2017-07-15T08:30:00 | 2017-07-15T07:38:29 | 1,207 | 185 |
[WP] Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: "Avenge my murder!" "Redeem my sins!" "Reveal my terrible secret!" Yours is...less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with.
|
"Big Brother?"
He woke up, groggily and rolled over to look into the middle of the bedroom. The little boy stood quietly, timidly.
"Y-yeah?" He said struggling to wake up enough to be even a little coordinated.
"I can't beat Bowser!" The pale little boy half wept. "I tried and tried but I can't beat him! And then I got so sleepy I fell asleep on the heater vent and ran out of batteries."
"Uh, listen. Did you uhm, get batteries?"
"Yeah," the boy sniffed. He must not have slept well on the floor. His eyes were cracked and irritated and there were dark circles around them.
"Did, AHEM, 'scuse me. Did you get back to Bowser?"
*Sniffs "Yeah."
"Alright, give it to me."
"Really?" The little boy squealed with the kind of sudden joy only an eight year old has. "Here!"
The little boy handed over the Gameboy and jumped excitedly onto the bed and gasped as if struggling to breathe.
It felt strange in his hands. It wasn't wide and ergonomic, but tall and brick shaped and the screen was backlit green on green. Still, there was a first time to Bowser, so big brother duties were necessary.
He hit the, 'Start,' button and it took a second to get the feeling of the buttons and the motion on the screen just right, but he relearned quickly. Three stutter steps and a jump and the turtle-like dragon's draw bridge was pulled out from underneath him. Bowser fell into the green lava before the screen went black.
"There you go," He said with sleep hazy triumph and handed the box over...
To no one.
He looked up, and there was no gasping little boy. No brick shaped GameBoy in his hand. And as he came to consciousness he remembered he was 26 years old. He had just bought this house a month ago for a massively discounted price, and this was his first night here. He was single, so there was no one else in the house to wake him.
He had to replace the batteries in the CO detectors when he first moved in.
And he was an only child.
|
I'm passing up and down. 'god this is so embarrassing.' I want to move on so badly but my request is so awkward. 'okay, don't be a wuss, you can do it.' I take a deep breath in and float through the bedroom door. A beautiful young woman is walking around her room cleansing it. I start couching. "I sense a presence." She says as she quickly sits down and grabs her tarot deck. "What's up buttercup." She says. I look at her a bit hesitant but I eventually sit down. She shakes her tarot cards some more and I a few fall out. "Huh, it says here you're close to finishing your journey but something is stopping you. Spirit do you need help with unfinished business?" I make a candle close to her flicker and she nods. "Let me grab my pendulum." She walks off and goes through a few boxes. "Where is the damn thing." She eventually finds it and grabs it together with her board. it has the entire alphabet on it. "Alright, let's get to it." So tell me, why do you need MY help?" She asks as she brushes her green hair out of her face. I let the pendulum swing to the right letters. "You, you trust me?" I swing it on yes. She smiles softly, her black lips revealing unbrushed yellow-ish teeth. After a few more questions she knows my name and some other necessary things. "Now, what is the unfinished business?" I hesitate again. 'you won't judge, right?' I ask. She promises she won't. 'delete my search history.' I slowly spell out. I can see the corner of her mouth slightly curve up. "Of course I'll help, please guide me to your account so I can help delete it all." I do as she says and she deletes it, no problem. 'thank you.' I spell out. "It's nothing, now good luck and good riddance." She says and I feel myself drift off.
| 2022-07-15T13:24:52 | 2022-07-15T09:54:48 | 211 | 43 |
[WP] A demon just devoured your soul. You are both very confused as to why you are still alive.
|
Wherever I was, I knew I wasn’t home.
It looked a lot like home, but it wasn’t. The white walls looked like they had been hung in the wardrobes for far too long, now with off-yellow hue. The grain on the wood floor no longer looked like natural lines, but mechanical imperfections that set my skin crawling—and I could’ve sworn those were two large eyes, with irises of red.
When the eyes surged out with a deafening roar, I confirmed my suspicions. They were attached to fear itself, a shadowy pair of unfurling wings that took out all light. It swooped over me and I reeled, tumbling to the floor. Strange as it is, I was briefly glad that my hands and back still found purchase. My mouth opened, but a longing scream failed to let itself out of my throat.
“What a tasty, tasty soul,” the voice scraped the insides of my mind like a witch’s nails down an antique chalkboard. The thing wrapped itself back together—its wings folded back into nothing, and some light returned with it. There was a red-skinned being with towering horns almost the length of its taut, muscular body. It stood not on legs, but spires of hellfire that licked at its surroundings, seemingly not affecting its surroundings.
I squeaked. That was all that I could muster in the face of a demon—or perhaps, the scream was so terrified that it went back inside.
The demon whirled towards me, its eyes focusing on me once again.
“You,” it commanded.
I snapped rapidly to attention. My legs still refused to stop wobbling and stand, so it was all I could do to keep my back straight while seated.
The demon closed the distance between us in one large step.
“By the gods,” the demon muttered. “You are… you are alive!”
“Uh. Thanks?”
“That’s never happened to me before,” the demon continued to mumble, now rubbing its chin thoughtfully.
“Me neither,” I babbled.
“Quiet,” it said, and did a strange gesture with one hand. My mouth continued to open and close, though no further sound came out.
“Strange. Interesting,” it said, pacing around me. “Your soul is mine. And yet, here you are.”
My soul? As far as I’ve known, I’ve always had a soul. It was not a thought that often passed my mind, unlike some others that tended to lodge itself in my brain and leisurely run it ragged until the same came up. I tried rummaging inside for my soul, and honestly? I felt little difference in who I am, and who I was before I walked into this dire situation.
At wits’ end, I raised my hand politely.
The demon scoffed, and did another gesture, pulling apart his thumb and finger.
“Um, can I ask about my soul? What did you mean—”
My speaking privileges were quickly revoked, and my mouth went back to flapping wordlessly.
“Mortal,” it shook a large head. “You represent a curious case. I feel your soul filling up my insides, and yet you speak! You live! One wonders why you are in this state.”
“It’s all quite fascinating,” I said. “But please, I just want to… talk.”
The demon’s red eyes became even more red, and bulged out like two ill-fitting heads through a tight turtleneck.
“What in tarnation,” it said, each word boiling with venom.
“I’m sure there’s an explanation for all this,” I hastily said. “Look, I just want to get on with my life. Take my soul. Just take it. Let me live, please.”
“A question begets an answer,” it growled. “I must know what happened.”
It grabbed me by my shirt, and dragged me into its hot, stinky breath, backed up with a row of sharp teeth.
“The soulless cannot break through my spell. What is your secret? What have you done?”
“I like soul food!”
“Bullshit!”
“Soul music calms me down!”
“Drivel!”
“I ate my twin in utero!”
“Gibber—what?”
In an instant, I felt my feet touching the ground. The demon back way from me, slowly, slowly...
“I’m so sorry,” it said. “I’m so sorry.”
… and with whirling hands, it summoned a fiery portal, and jumped through it hastily.
---
r/dexdrafts
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"Mm, why, that was far from the most underwhelming burden of sin that I've been made privy to"
I could feel its evil presence, grasping and caressing the very essence of my existence
It would have disgusted me, if I still had a heart to care
The demon made a show of smacking his lips, seemingly delighted with the qualities it saw in my soul.
But that didn't matter
I didn't move
I didn't mind
I didn't care
"Just get this over with"
I heard my own voice ring out, shrill and shaky
With all the strikingness of a dying hamster
The demon paid no heed to my words
It seemed to know all too well that I am but a husk
Lifeless, powerless and harmless
"It is rare that I see a human that look the part of my end product even before I partook in the process of their draining"
"I look like shit, I know, big whoop"
"Just . Get . This . Over . With"
I forced out the words with what little air I had left in my lungs
There wasn't any further need to replenish them
Mother's words surfaced in my mind again
I tore her body apart in my mental hellscape as I did in real life
That is to say
Brutishly brutal and blasphemously bloody
No more
I would not be a waste of fresh air for much longer
So shut the fuck up and go back to resting in pieces
Ciao.
The demon's eyes twinkled with a malevolent sparkle
He chuckled
"Humans always remark as to their food maturing in the weeks or days that pass, post purchase and pre consumption, why, demons have the blessing to see our takings mature in front of our very eyes, it is truly one of the great gratifications of demonhood.
With those words, he began to reveal his true form
A perfrct storm of Machiavellian malice, twisted tenaciously into tendrils of torturous terror
To be inflicted upon its prey
"Pray, it is but futile, but there is nothing that shall save you from this fate, so all actions, however moronically useless, will produce the same outcome"
I simply stared back blankly
As his tendrils tore into me
Not physically, but metaphysically
It tore into me
My self
My will
My existence
It tried hollowing me out
Slurping on my soul
It felt kind of...pleasant
That's....not meant to happen
Is it?...
There was the slightest fleeting hint of confusion in the demon's eyes
As a pure black orb was draw out of my body
By writhing spectral tentacles
I stared at it
It felt familiar
My old identity
It had a name
A personality
A family
A ....
I cannot remember
Blank
I know words
But nothing else
I looked down
I know these are hands
My hands
But where did the cuts and bruises come from
I move my hands around
How did this spider shaped mark get here
I know it's not normal
What is normal
What
"What"
The demon looked on in a flabbergasted manner
I knew he was a demon
I knew this wasn't his normal behaviour
I stepped back a little
My body felt....light
Like a literal stone was removed from my shoulders
I looked up
Towards that blackened orb
It was calling on me
Something about regret
Something about mistakes
Something about fear
Something about being eaten
...
I ignored it
It made me feel bad things
Like I was trapped underneath someone else's crazed ravings
Yet I knew it to be myself
Me
I
Past tense I
Ware
I stepped away slowly
I felt cold
I felt light
I felt weak
I felt....alive
I felt a sense of irony within those words
I felt like that was probably true
I felt like leaving
I felt like that demon.exe has stopped responding
...
I backed away into the night
I don't fear the darkness
I looked into he distance
Towards the sight of a site
Familiar and familiar
It was then
I knew anew
Why
Why would I fear the night
When twas the light from whence monsters came
| 2021-10-06T09:22:08 | 2021-10-06T08:41:55 | 218 | 68 |
[WP] You are a minor supervillain. Your antics aren't illegal, but they're quite devastating to the local hero population. You replace the flimsy fruit stands that are frequently destroyed in car chases throughout the city with nearly indestructible replicas.
|
"Hello, this is Hero Insurance. How can I help you."
"Quick, you have to help me. They're getting closer! That one guy is firing frickin' laser beams."
"Alright ma'am, stay calm. We'll get through this. Please state the serial number. It's in the middle of the cart."
"Just a sec. Where is it! Oh, here, under the T-shirts. Err. It's 13 A 7 K 5301."
"Thank you ma'am," I said as I typed in the data quickly. "Elise Cartwright, clothing vendor, gold member. Hold on one second Elise."
I teleported to the warehouse to have a quick look. I arrived on the second floor, isle 13. These were the market stalls. Ah, A7, generic clothing market stall. Perfect.
"Elise, stand back at least three feet." I said urgently in my headset. "I'm almost there."
"Okay, but hurry. They just smashed into a building across the market!!"
I blocked out the customer for a moment. This needed concentration. With my hand on the cart, I searched for the right location. There was a sympathetic resonation in the aether between the market stalls, but it was still tricky. After two seconds I found it and I activated my power. Elise's stall teleported to the warehouse, while my replacement stall took it's place in the market.
Elise looked relieved as I teleported in together with the replacement stall. Just a second later, the so called hero's laser beams hit the stall. Typically they never look at what they hit if they miss the villains. But this time the beam reflected back, hitting the hero right in the private parts. Those clothes on my cart were actually flimsy dressing over highly reflective alloy.
The villainess capitalized on this and launched a superspeed attack. The hero collapsed right on time from the pain of his self inflicted burning of the family jewels, so she missed and slammed right into my stall. That stall was of course reinforced high grade steal beams weighted down with liberal amounts of high density concrete.
She was out for the count. That took care of the fighting. The other market vendors cheered loudly and the police arrived.
It took some time before I could teleport home with the decoy stall, but it was a good day. I earned plenty of tips and even had a few new customers for Hero Insurance.
|
“Hey! Fresh oranges sir?”
“Dogs here! Fresh dogs! Warm and hot!”
The vendors across the street yelled out. That’s when a man rounded the corner and pushed his way past people.
I looked down the street with curiosity, along with everyone else. The vendors had stopped yelling, and instead turned to watch.
The man had a hat that suspiciously hid his facial features. His jacket was blue and long, and he had a scarf on in Summer.
“How strange.” I thought. I bet he was one of the local Heros, running away from some villains goons.
He managed to reach the vendors, and started to wreck the stands to disorient his followers.
He threw an orange behind him, smacking one of the goobs chasing him.
Wow, that was a perfectly good orange. That was kinda selfish.
The next vendor yelled out, but the man ignored his pleas. He cruelly took a hotdog, and tossed it on the ground.
Somehow another goon slipped, and two were left.
Oh dear god... He was taking some papayas from another vendor! Not the papayas!
The man turned around quickly and smacked a goon with the hearty fruit.
They were knocked out. He quickly booked it to my vendor. I cringed, and called out to him before he grabbed my stuff.
He tried to pick up some mustard from my stand, but it was only display. He quickly moved to the meat, trying to grab some. It was also display.
Running out of time, the man tried to rip out some of the cloth that covered my food from the sun. It was display.
His face confused, he grabbed me to try and stop the last goon, but I was also display.
The man started to run again, but he fell, because I had turned his shoes into display.
It was an accident, I swear. I don’t even know how that happened. I sell fake items, for gags and stuff.
The goon picked him up, and gave me a thumbs up. I was confused but I guess I helped.
The hero was taken and some other superheroes had to take him back.
I guess the story ends well, but the mysterious man had to pay for everything he threw.
—————
I’m not really good at writing stories, but I hoped you liked it. Oh crap, I turned my story into display.
| 2020-01-14T00:05:59 | 2020-01-14T00:00:38 | 206 | 112 |
[WP] After sarcastically complaining to God for the 1000th time he drags you to heaven and offers to let you run things for a day to see how the world really works. At the end of your first day he comes back to find the universe a finely tuned machine of excellence.
|
God: How did you do this?
John: I first made every person feel the pain they had caused to everyone else. They felt every insult, every small hurt and every cruelty they inflicted on others by choice. Then I made them feel how others felt when they did something good.
Of course, now all humans feel the consequences of the actions both the good and the bad that they inflict on others at all times. So they think before being cruel.
Humans are inherently selfish, right? So I gave them a reason to be good. It all worked itself out immediately after that.
|
G: "how.....?"
M: "Easy, I just abolished religion, emotion, and urge."
G: "YOu WHAT!?"
M: "Yeah, now everything is perfect."
G: "But now nobody believes in me? Nobody loves or hates? Nobody want's anything!?"
M: "Exactly, perfect."
G: "You're a monster!"
M: "Dude, you made me this way."
| 2017-03-05T02:34:13 | 2017-03-05T02:09:27 | 31 | 14 |
[FF] In 75 words or fewer, write about experiencing a devastating loss, without including death.
|
*I'm skirting the line here, but nobody dies, so I think it counts, right?*
Four stories was not enough. After my wife left me, I tried to end it. I climbed the stairs to the ceiling of my apartment building. I walked to the edge, but couldn't take that last step, so I ran at top speed and jumped.
Climbing, walking, running, jumping.
I'll never do any of those things again. Sometimes I think I'm wiggling my toes, but I'm probably just imagining that.
|
Shit.
I finally found it.
I blow on the dusty game cartridge, trembling.
Orgasmic excitement ignites my body.
I slide the game in, imagining it - days spent staying up, reliving childhood nostalgia, finally beating the boss that has haunted my adult life.
I power it up. Saliva oozes from my mouth.
...
No.
"Disc unreadable", the screen proclaims.
I blow into the game slot.
Clean the disk.
I try everything - to no avail.
All is lost.
| 2014-10-19T20:53:05 | 2014-10-19T18:12:01 | 84 | 48 |
[WP] As the sole janitor on the space-station, people often ask why you're there as robots do most of the cleaning. You're not allowed to tell them that you're the only person preventing a robotic uprising event from occurring.
|
“LARRY!!”
The unified sound of robotic androids filled the room as Larry, the only human member of the sanitary crew enters.
“Heyyy how’s everyone doing? TX-9, your cogs moving just fine?”
“Yeah, thanks for talking to the android maintenance crew. I just HATE having to talk to them ya know? :)”
The android says wearing a smile.
“Hahaa~, you know they mean well. And besides, they Did help you out that *other* time, remember?”
Larry says reminding the android of his previous, embarrassing visit for repairs.
“Haha, yeah, you’re right. I guess they are alright”
The android says turning to sip his hot oil
“At least we have you Larry!”
Another android says raising there cup
“We feel a lot better knowing that at least another human is sharing the work load! Other wise who knows? Maybe we would have taken over the ship by now? xD”
The android laughs and the rest follow as they find the comment funny. Larry laughs too, but he knows. That if he really wasn’t there, the androids joke of fiction, may have been a dark reality. Since that is the only reason why, he joined the sanitation crew.
|
I look out the window in my room looking back at our home. I think about our old planet that we forgot about overtime only remembered in the old history books left in the dusty closet. No one predicted it. The disaster was forgotten about over generations, people don't learn. We destoryed our last planet because of global warming so we all fled here. I reflect knowing that we are on the brink of another disaster knowing that we are to far from other planets to be able to flee again. We left all are troubles behind on earth and people thought it was never going to happen again. My job as a janitor literally has saved billions of lives. If I die or quit the robots take over and humamity will die. I can't tell people what is happening I just have to watch them go on with their lives happily. I don't tell them what is in the high security vault that only I am allowed in once a month to clean, they don't need to know. The robots can't get in to get the blueprints without my key and I don't plan on letting them.
| 2021-01-30T11:53:06 | 2021-01-30T09:53:43 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] No matter where you are, what you're dressed like, or what mood you're in, people always just assume you work there. Even the employees are fooled, and it always takes a long time to convince them you're not their boss. You've had enough. Today is the day you test how far this goes.
|
"Hi Jeff!"
I smiled and wave back at the security guard. Jim, if I recall correctly.
I saunteered into the large room, paying narry a glance at those armed with assault riffles and sidearms as they saluted me. Well, this was going according to plan.
"Well, fellas, do me a solid and open this girl for me, won't ya?"
And with that, the giant doors open in front of my eyes. I took a piece of paper I had prepared earlier, and threw it into the vault.
It was a few hours later when I turned on the television to the headlines "MAN WALKS INTO FORT KNOX".
Author Note: I got an idea for the same ability, except as a counter terrorist spy op.
|
"Today's the day, Tom Frost....Today's the day you put on your boss pants and mean it."
I sigh as I slip on my best pair of khaki pants. The ones that make my buldge really buldge, and my kneecaps look as if they were not the kneecaps of a boy..but of a man, a boss man.
They say the clothes dont make the man. But they have never seen a pair of pants so demanding of the subservience of the masses. So what the hell do they know.
I glance one more time in the mirror as I adjust the sleeves of my wizard robe. And head out the door toward my destiny. The LARP community will never be the same after today.
| 2018-08-12T18:25:43 | 2018-08-12T17:51:56 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night.
|
You know, I could have sworn I had my powers before they even manifested.
Life, after all, had never really gone to plan for me before. My parents dying in an accident, my foster home burning down, me dropping out of school, so on and so forth. A series of misfortunes, all leading up to the moment I pointed the gun at my head and pulled the trigger.
It jammed, of course.
I didn't leave the house for a few months after that.
The first time I did, though, was to the bank, where I got caught in the middle of a robbery. Somehow, the robbers ended up gunning each other down after an argument.
The next time was when I was out getting food. The Speedster had been running past towards some crime scene. He tripped as he passed me and ended up as little meat gibblets on a nearby wall.
The third... well, let's just say a city block near me was leveled with explosives from a failed hostage rescue.
Can you see the pattern now? It certainly didn't take long for the intelligence agencies to.
As you might have guessed, all their plans to take me in failed. Not due to a lack of detailed planning, but because of my presence.
It's funny, now that I think about it. I used to think I was inconsequential. That my existence meant nothing to the world. Now? The world revolves around me. As I move, so does the world, simply to avoid being anywhere near me.
Unfortunately for everyone else, my power is growing every day, and well, there's nothing I can do to stop it.
(A bit of a poor ending, I think, but the idea didn't go as I had planned.)
|
You stare at the television, still trying to move. Another city hit. Leviathan, this time. 40,000 dead. How long have things been like this? You can't remember the last time you've seen the news without some parahuman threat topping the hour. It's paralyzing, and you would chuckle at the pun despite it all if you still had you the ability.
The nurse walks in and changes your sheets. She talks, and it's a welcome reprieve, but the inability to respond irks you. When she leaves, her foot catches on the IV stand. It moves in front of the television, and you feel a sinking in your gut. You try and call out to her, to thrash, to move even one pinky toe or motion with your eyes or tell her what she's done, but she doesn't notice and she passes the curtain beside you and now you're STUCK HERE AND—
For one moment, you see them. they twist and turn, twin snakes of white and gold larger than any thing you've ever seen, than you ever will see. A shard breaks off and flies towards you. Direction and magnitude, you think, your thoughts drifting. It hits you, and clarity comes like a bullet to the brain—your body doubles over, and you scream and you shout and you—
You're back. The nurse stands in front of you again. You blink. She blinks. You move your hand, and watch as the nurse sits there, unmoving, eyes filled with terror.
There's an IV bag in front of the television, and nobody is coming to help her.
| 2021-04-01T03:34:19 | 2021-04-01T02:29:02 | 133 | 65 |
[WP] You stumble upon an old megaphone in an antique shop and jokingly pick it up and say, "Everybody listen up!". Later that night, the news headlines read, "We're all listening for what the voice has to next say next!"
|
The voice, I was the voice.
Imagine having infinite power in your voice. I could do anything I wanted, say anything I needed.
I thought for a long time about what I should say. I could demand world peace in the name of the gods, I could make myself dictator supreme and so much more.
In the end I realized that I don't have the conscience to change reality that much. I am not smart nor caring enough to live with this responsibility.
As I picked up the megaphone I said the one thing that I could think of to prevent people from feeling too let down without ruining the planets politics and religions:"Sorry humans, wrong planetary number".
Without me realizing, I just kick-started the space age.
|
I stood staring at the tv as I picked up the megaphone once more. I spoke softly into the megaphone and said, hello. This set off a chain reaction of people praying to the almighty voice from the heavens. I then proceeded to tell the people of earth how they must welcome me with open arms as I begin my decent from space. I wait for what happens next and while I’m waiting a hear a knock on my door. Bruce, my best friend walks in laughing with a camera. I scream into the megaphone “Of course it’s just a prank”
| 2018-02-15T22:32:41 | 2018-02-15T20:57:23 | 1,269 | 38 |
[WP] It's your first day as the recently-inaugurated President of the United States and you're being told all of the country's most top-secret information and projects. What's the most unbelievable thing you get told?
|
You know, you find out some strange stuff when you become president. And I could handle most of it. Some things were hard to believe, but there was just one thing that I still have a hard time with.
What you may ask? Well, it wasn't that Elvis is still very much alive and likes walking around Memphis occasionally, freaking people out.
It wasn't that Kennedy and Lincoln were still alive, chilling in Jamaica.
Nor was it that the aliens were real and in fact estimates of upwards of 50% of the world's population were actually alien.
I will admit that I was shocked when I found out that area 51 had nothing to do with the aliens. Apparently dragons did exist, but were hard to find, and area 51 happened to be home to one of them.
A unicorn was actually confirmed and spotted in North Korea. Go figure.
All the people who think the government and aliens are controlling their brains are right. They are actually extremely intelligent, powerful, and dangerous people, the tin hat a ridiculously ingenious invention. Fortunately everyone thought they were crazy, so we don't have to worry about silencing them.
There were in fact reports of a mysterious blue box that has shown up at different times throughout history, all seemingly important moments.
That there actually is a James Bond who works for the British government and is just as awesome as his movie counterpart. That secret was pretty cool actually.
I mean, yeah, all that stuff was crazy. But it wasn't anything to what I found out next. How I wish I had never found out. Perhaps it's better that no one knows.
You see, the truth is, the mice were the ones who had commissioned our world to be built. We've had it all wrong. Creationism, Evolution. Nope, it was the mice.
|
"I'm not so sure about this", I say reluctantly as head White House Information Technician Gerald Froman fiddled with buttons on the side of the device.
"Oh, that's what they all say at first", he says, grinning ever so slightly. "Soon, you'll know that as a fact".
I furrow my brow slightly and throw him a glance before looking over this apparatus. It looks and feels like it was designed in the late 80's. White plastic casing around the button terminal, faux leather on the seat, worn down only by those men preceeding me, and a slivery/black aesthetic combination on the.. part that goes around your head.
"You said all the presidents," I ask, "but what about those before this machine was built, what about them?" Froman lets out a whoop, makes a face like what he's about to say will be a doozy.
"Just thank your lucky stars we were able to come up with this technology. Before this puppy, we had a team that helped new presidents undergo intense meditation training to achieve the effect. With the advent of this machine, we were able to transfer all that Reagan had accumulated, the collective memories and consciousnesses of the previous 39 presidents. The process... wasn't good for him. We've since learned that this device has a upper safety limit. Not to worry, it worked fine for both George Bush Sr., Obama, and Clinton, no problems".
"What about W?" I ask quizzically.
"Luckily you won't be getting his feed in the transfer. It doesn't work on morons."
| 2014-09-18T13:10:32 | 2014-09-18T13:01:38 | 25 | 11 |
[WP] Write a suicide note in a Dr. Suess like fashion.
|
I will not do it on a train
I will not do it on a plane
I will not do it in a house
I will not use a single mouse
I will not dangle from a cord
I will not shift a single board
I will not puddle on the floor
I will not seal a single door
I will not leave a single note
I will not hint in things I wrote
I will not leave a mess for a friend
I will not let them see this end
I will not leave them asking why
I will not let them have their try
I will not be grinning ear from ear
I will do nothing more than disappear
|
I do not like life, not one bit.
I want to find a way to quit.
I sleep all day and I sleep all night.
I really do not want to fight.
Sorry mum and sorry dad.
I really wish life wasn't so bad.
Look after the dog and after the cat.
Please take care of them when I have gone splat.
Please oh please don't let your lives halt.
You must realise it's not your fault.
^^^^Edit:formatting
| 2015-01-17T11:47:28 | 2015-01-17T07:28:39 | 42 | 26 |
[WP] A priest returns home after a successful exorcism. His demon daughter is waiting for him there, angry that he removed her from someone’s body again.
|
The woman lifts off the floor, rising slowly and spinning counterclockwise. "Widdeeshins", Father OBrady says aloud. He finishes the salt circle, and blesses the bottle of fiji water he bought at the corner store on his way.
"It's not fair!" The demonic voice rips from her throat. "You never let me have any fun!"
He quietly sprinkles the water over the rest of the family, and begins the incantation.
The demon screams, but he knows demons. They always scream. They pretend it hurts so that maybe you'll take pity on the poor soul they've occupied, and stop. He knows better.
He finishes the reading, and takes a swig of the water before pouring it into the woman's mouth.
A darkness blacker than night pours from her ears and eyes, and the wailing continues. Just as quickly, it is done. She falls to the floor, sobbing, and reaches for her family.
"Is it safe?" The husband asks.
OBrady nods. "aye." He says, "the demon is gone from her now." He refuses their money. He didn't become a priest for money.
He because a priest to protect his child.
He walks home, and he can hear her upstairs, his daughter. Breaking things. Screaming. He climbs the stairs to her room, weary.
"You never let me do ANYTHING!" She shrieks as he opens her door, flinging a picture frame at him. "Mom would have let me! She'd let me go to concerts! And hang out with my friends! I hate you! You're the worst dad in the world!"
"Oh aye, your mum! Shining beacon of motherhood she is!" He shouts back, losing his temper, accent growing thicker as his did. "Left ye on me porch when you was just a wee thing, unable to manifest a shape. You were weak and helpless and she didnae think even to warn me ye were there! She didnae care for ye! Didnae wipe your nose and bottom when ye was sick! She'd have eaten yet soon as kissed ye!"
He sits, heavily, on the bed. "I know ye want to explore," he says, as the darkness shrinks into a familiar form. "But it's too dangerous. What if you lose your shape drinking? What if you hurt somebody, or they hurt you?"
He knows the answer. It's only a matter of time before they bring in a different priest already. If she's revealed, they'll bring one sooner.
He won't be able to protect her then.
"You don't know what hell is, love. I've seen it in your mother's eyes. I've felt the fire of it burning in my soul." He shook his head. "They could trap you their for eternity. I cannae let them do it. Please," he rubs his brow, "please, no more possessions of people. Dogs and cats and dolls only, please."
"Dad." She sinks onto the bed beside him. "I didn't mean it. I don't hate you." She wraps her arms around him.
"I know that, love." He pets her hair. "Now finish your homework. School tomorrow, you know."
She rolls her eyes, and forgets to color the scelera white. "Dad. It's online! The teacher lets us grade our own. It doesn't matter." Her hair was back to mousey brown, and her skin was right too. The shadows had stopped flickering around her like flames. "Danielle is doing a watch party tonight. If I promise not to leave the house, can I have some of your -"
"Absolutely not." he stands. "What kind of a father let's his daughter drink at your age!" He winks, and whispers, "I'll leave it at the stairs but I'm warding the house, you hear?"
|
Father Davis closes the door to his home, taking a deep breath. Five Exorcisms today, the most he’s ever done! He fishes out his pact of cigarettes and fumbles for his lighter. He needs to calm down before he talks to her. She’s got some explaining to do...’
Davis lights the cigarette, and takes a deep breath, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs. He knows its bad for him, but Davis doesn’t care; he’s been alive for so long. When God is ready, He’ll take Father Davis, and he won’t complain. Speaking of taking...
”Claire!” Father Davis calls in the small home. He listens for a minute, before walking to her room, and opens the door. He sees a figure lying in the bed, and he turns on the light.
The room contrasts with the rest of the house; heavy metal posters, satanic symbols, the room was very cold. To a normal person, they might assume a child of a rebellious nature lived here, but Father Davis knew better.
”Claire, I know you’re awake...” Father Davis crosses his arms, and eventually, he hears a groan, and a young girl sits up. Her brown hair is in a loose bun, and she’s still wearing her clothes. She turns around, and flashes Davis with a smile full of sharp teeth.
”How was your day?” She asked innocently.
”You know how it was... mind telling me why I caught your face coming out of Ms. Greensburg?”
”I don’t know... how can you tell it was my face? I don’t look that unique Father Davis.”
”Claire, I’ve been taking care of you for 15 years. I know your signature and face when you turn full demon.” Father Davis crosses his arms, and growls. “What were you thinking? If another priest was doing the exorcism-“
”No one else can remove me, you know that.” Claire gets up, and walks over to Father Davis, giving him a hug. “You’re the only one powerful enough to take down any demon, including me!”
Davis sighs, and returns the hug, and pulls her away. “I don’t know why I agree to house you...”
”You thought you could rehabilitate me.” Claire giggles, and touches his cross on his neck. 15 years ago, that artifact would have burned her hand, causing immense pain. Now, she can touch it, and only feel a tingling sensation.
”What were you doing?” Father Davis asks.
”I got bored, and I was having fun while you were in Brazil,” Claire says, and Davis sighs. “You have school work you could be doing.”
”I was doing that! I just decided to have some fun so I wouldn’t be bored out of my mind.”
”What am I going to do with you?” Father Davis shakes his head and Claire just pouts. Seeing her face made Davis chuckle a bit, and he puts his hands up. “We’ll talk about this more in the morning. Get some sleep Claire... we’ve both had a long night...”
Claire nods, and Davis ruffles her hair, before going to his room, and preparing for bed. He kneels down, and begins his prayer to God.
”Heavenly Father, I thank you for the gift of today, and for the strength to help those who need the help. I ask for forgiveness on any transgressions I may have done...”
He stops for a moment, and then continues with, “I pray that Claire will have her soul redeemed so that she may be freed from Lucifer’s grasp, and I pray that you will continue to guide me to help more once human souls become angels. Amen.”
Davis climbs into bed, and lets himself relax, drifting into a peaceful sleep. Raising a demon teenager isn’t easy, but at least Claire is willing to stay with him.
| 2020-10-20T09:37:27 | 2020-10-20T09:30:13 | 393 | 81 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
|
I had been with her for a number of years.
My heart was racing with fear, anticipation, and hope.
"Honey, I have something important to ask you."
She turned and gave me a smile.
A voice like an angel answered, "Yes?".
I knelt down before her.
"Will you marry me?"
"Oh my God."
Tears fell.
"Yes."
| 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 2015-01-05T21:45:56 | 364 | 59 |
[WP] The Crips and the Bloods ally with each other against ISIS. The world laughs as thousands of gang members board a cruise ship and set sail for the Middle East. The two gangs land on the shores of Syria and begin their fight against ISIS.
Let's see how the two gangs fare.
EDIT: These are great, guys! Thanks for all the stories. I've read some, and I'll read the rest later.
|
"So, uh, I have to ask...why are you out here? Why this?"
"Just tryin'a be the realest, you know? See, we a brotherhood. But we also a business. We tryin'a incorporate. What's that phrase? Divide and conquer? Well, we gonna do the opposite - we gonna have a merger. Bloods and Crips, cats and rats, comin' together for the first time. We the competition now. We trust bustin', you know? Undercuttin'.
See we was killin' each other over piddly shit - corner here, corner there, someone wearin' the wrong colors, *this dude sellin' on MY block?* Turns out that's bad business. We see this as a long-term investment. We goin' legitimate. This is a hostile takeover. This more than just a couple corners.
We doin' what the rest of the world don't wanna do, and we makin' money off of it. Ain't no one can touch us. All them old folks back in 'Merica sittin' in front of they TVs used be afraid of us, call the cops on us, close they blinds when when we roll down they street...now they cheerin' us. They buyin' stock.
Ain't no more east side west side bullshit. Now this the Far East Side. This our corner now."
|
It was one day after setting sail. The charted Carnival Freedom was 300 nautical miles off the east coast of the United States. With over 5000 nautical miles to go until our heroes reach the shore of the Syrian port town of Latakia, terror began to unfold.
“Boss! We’ve run out of our entire supply of coconut shrimp” proclaimed David Davies, a first year kitchen intern at Carnival Corporation.
“Dear God, David. Are you sure? Have you checked the freezer on deck two?” responded head chef Bruno D’Bruno. Bruno is an ex-Italian architect who quit his job to live out his dream of cooking for thousands, albeit he was hoping for a more upscale establishment such as the three Michelin starred La Pergola in Rome.
“No Chef…Mr. Markus and the Green Street Gizmos have captured all of deck two. I even tried to use the staff entrance from below, but they have also cordoned off all staff quarters in the aft of the ship.”
The second day of the voyage was off to a horrible start. Although the Bloods and Crips have miraculously put their differences aside, there were still kinks to work out in the relationship. More concerning was how the new combined force, now known as the Croods, have decided to make the staff on the ship their primary enemy until they reached Syria.
| 2015-12-07T10:16:15 | 2015-12-07T08:46:53 | 46 | 14 |
[WP] The seven aspects of the universe gathered in the room, Good, Evil, Life, Death, Order, Chaos, and Dave, from accounting.
|
The stars aligned in a dimly lit room in Hoboken, New Jersey and each had a story to tell.
Order arrived first, as always, and volunteered to take attendance, as always. This was far from necessary, especially since there were only seven of them, but Order had set the agenda. As always.
Good yawned alone in the front row. She was nearly always exhausted these days. “It’s the attention to detail,” thought Order. “Proper Good takes time and constant upkeep.” Order’s thoughts weren’t tinged with compassion, but rather a simple, annoyed calculus. The imbalance between Good and Evil was a source of tremendous frustration.
Meanwhile, Evil had chosen a seat in the far corner of the room. The chair occupied an acoustic anomaly that caused anyone at the front of the room to strain to hear whomever was sitting there. This was particularly annoying as Evil had a habit of mumbling as if every word was in fine print at the bottom of a dubious contract. “... a new strain of highly communicable rabies ravaging mainland China...” murmured Evil as he thumbed through a loose stack of papers.
Life sat by the window and Death towered menacingly behind her. They’d both been quite busy as of late, keeping the scales even... but Death had plans. A spider caught a fly on the windowsill. Life was never sure whether to count that as a victory or a defeat. Death never counted.
Chaos rushed in, knocked over some chairs, and left. No one knew if he’d return later or if he’d gone to search for a book of matches, but it hardly mattered. In truth, Chaos was off to throw a handful of bed bugs into the Mattress Emporium down the road. Life had, of course, supplied the bed bugs.
Not even Order had noticed that Dave from Accounting had been in one of the chairs Chaos upended. Dave usually went unnoticed. This was by design. Dave existed outside of the flow of the universe. He recorded all that happened without flourish or commentary. He simply Was. And, right now, he Was on the floor inches away from a coffee stain on the carpet that he would note as “phallic.”
Once Order had put the perfect checkmark next to each of their names, they could begin addressing today’s agenda items: 1) the impending extinction of the cocoa bean, 2) moving asteroid 302.76B approximately two centimeters to the left (by Death’s request), and 3) a duck that had somehow traveled through time.
With regards to the final problem, Death suggested killing the mayor. Only it wasn’t Death at all, Chaos had returned dressed in a black robe when no one (except Dave) was paying attention. Life found this adorable.
“SO IT GOES,” said the real Death. And the orchards bore no fruit. And the asteroid shifted imperceptibly. And the duck was relegated to Dave.
So it went.
|
"Life, can I speak to you?" Order was never so cautious with Life. He regarded her fascination with mortal beings a failing more than anything. Something so...wild. Chaos, in all their uncontrolled nature,, was more suited for Life, he thought.
"Sure. What seems to be the matter?" She smiled. Motherly as always. An aspect Order had learned to appreciate.
"Well...Death and I were talking..."
Life smiled, "Oh, how is she?"
An old flame of Life. One that would never...well. You know.
"She's fine; look. We're all...great forces if reality. Beings beyond being. The very nature of how mortals comprehend the universe..."
"Yes I'm well aware." She was losing her patience. A rare occurrence.
"Well... Dave is..."
"He's a squishy little Meat idiot," Evil chimed in from across the hall, "Fragile and so easily broken. Left bleeding and crying like-"
"Evil. Please." Order held a hand up.
"Sorry. Just sayin'."
"But... he's got a point."
Life frowned. Adding Dave from Accounting wasn't her idea. Though she appreciated opening the eyes of one of her flock. Chaos loved the fun of it all. Order appreciated the "Accounting".
"It was Goods idea. They..." She smiled, "they made an interesting point."
"I often find Goods methods to be vexing but I'd agree they have a good head on their shoulders. Metaphysically speaking of course," he looked confused again, "But...why a human? Why not a dog? Perhaps a cat? Death LOVES those little buggers..."
"Maybe too much..." Life muttered, "But, truthfully? Humans appreciate all of us. They believe us infallible. Immutable. Chaos is always wild and unpredictable. Good is always about conflict with Evil. About the only concepts they misunderstand are..."
Order frowned, "Death."
"I hoped...that perhaps working alongside us, not only would he remind us there are beings out there to which we owe literal conception...but we could show him that these concepts. Good and Evil, Life and Death, Chaos and Order. We are not all scary and rigid. That good can be fighting against evil, or it can be loving the unloved and forgotten. Life can be a lion feasting on an antelope. Death...can be a release from pain."
Order nodded solemnly. The talk was briefly interrupted as Dave popped his head in.
"Hey, just came to tell you two, I'm getting together the final entries for the office Fantasy Football League. Are you two in?"
Order thought for a moment, "Hmm...you know what? Yeah. Yeah I'm in, Dave."
Life smiled gently to herself.
| 2021-02-16T10:38:54 | 2021-02-16T09:39:22 | 51 | 34 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager.
|
Edit: this was my first time submitting to writing prompts and I had no idea people would actually be interested! I’ll write the rest over the weekend
They say you shouldn’t take your work home with you, that it’s healthy to keep the two separate and maintain a good work life balance. That’s easier said than done when your job comes crashing through your front room window and melting your daughters birthday clown with his laser vision, screeching something about “HENCHMEN BEING NO MATCH FOR JUSTICE!”. I was used to this by now, the constant commotion and frequent trips to the panic room with my family....my wife, not so much. “You promised this wouldn’t happen!” She shouted, her voice barely carrying over the sound of screaming guests and smashing furniture above us. She didn’t believe me that I had no control over this, that being paired with a chundering fuckwit who refuses to follow guild arching laws was just rotten luck. “I’m taking the children to my mothers until you fix this” she continued to scream even though the noise of destruction seemed to be growing quieter. I shivered at the mention of /that/ woman, I may have kidnapped the president and drowned a few nuns but SHE was the real evil.,..
The next day I stormed into the police department downtown, still wearing the crumpled ash smeared clothes from the disastrous party. I quickly marched into the commissioners office, silencing anybody who objected with a quick blast of a freeze ray and slammed a bloodied rainbow wig with bits of melted clown stuck to it on his desk. At first he didn’t quite recognize me, my filthy civilian clothes lacking the eccentric flair I usually present myself with. Of course once he did I quickly found a gun pointed in my direction “You have some balls waltzing in here like that, and with some fucked up trophy too. What in God’s name have you done this time!? Paragon will hear of th-“ I quickly cut him off, the mere mention of his name making my blood boil. “Paragon is the one who did this!” I screamed, erratically gesturing to the gaudy wig as I tried to regain my composure “*Ahem* your boy wonder broke into my house during off hours, murdered a party clown, and worse of all made my wife get her mother involved!” I slammed my fists onto his desk, leaning in close and pointing a bony finger centimeters from his face “and YOU will fix this, YOU will make this stop, and YOU will make it so that I no longer have to deal with the in law. And if you don’t? Paragon won’t be the only one breaking guild law.”
The commissioner put a hand to his forehead, rubbing his temples and letting go a massive sigh “What a mess... how do you expect me to do anything about it? I don’t even know who he really is, he just comes when I press this transmitter” and as he pulled out the small device his last syllable wasn’t even entirely out of his mouth before I yanked it from his hands “Then we’re going to call him here” I vigorously pressed the button, almost surprised it didn’t break from the repeated hammering of my fingers “And we’re all going to have a nice little chat...”
TO BE CONTINUED**
***if you guys actually care enough for me to write it!
|
As I sit around in my lair very exhausted and pissed as to what’s been going on I almost feel like quitting my damn job.
“ This is outrageous I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to sit in my own evil lair and never leave because that cape wearing, spandex loving, maniac has no life outside of being a super hero! I can’t even enjoy my day to day routines anymore, I haven’t even been able to just walk my damn dog without getting absolutely destroyed. Ugh what to do what to do? Wait... wait a minute I know this fool works for the United Justice Association...”
“Yeessss” I said manically
I know what I must do now.”
The next day I show up at the UJA it wasn’t easy because this side of town is literally in the heart of Hero City, but so far everyone is off hero duties for the weekend only thing going on is small petty crimes, so you got sidekicks running around trying to get their hours in for college credit or community service hours.
“Hello I’m here for my appointment with Diamond Fist’s manager.”
The lady at the desk types some things up as I just blankly stare at her.
“Oh yes Mr. Killjoy nice to meet you he’s actually up on the 3rd floor around the corner second door to the left and is ready for your meeting.”
“ thank you m’am”
I take the elevator and go to the room and just as I was about to open the door.
“Ah Ha it’s you my arch nemesis! So you must’ve infiltrated my headquarters well I’ll show you!”
“No wait no sto-“
As I took an uppercut to the jaw I thought to myself... I should’ve just kept my job at NASA at least they aren’t getting beat up by some spandex wearing weirdo.
“Had enough?”
I lay on the floor with my broken jaw i am furious at this point because I was supposed to have a dentist appointment tomorrow and now I can’t even open my jaw with out crying.
“Y-you-“
“What was that I can’t hear you?”
He gets closer to me
“YOU IDIOT!”
I punch him square in the face with my robotic arm at max power breaking his nose and sending him flying and falling on his ass. Then the door behind me opens... It’s his manager we both look at him and he looks at us.
“Fuck, let me guess, a complaint about Diamond fist?”
Well after that whole altercation Diamond Fist’s manager calls 911 and me and Diamond get taken to a doctor to fix my jaw and fix his nose. Later that day Diamond Fist’s manager visits me and told me everything. Apparently Diamond Fist has some mild amnesia and everyday he wakes up thinking it’s Mighty Monday which for us it’s Maniacal Monday which means nothing we just like to have fun ok, but anyways He also told me miraculously me punching him with my robot fist at maximum power ended up fixing his mind but permanently damaging his nose, but what can I say you take some and you lose some. Diamond’s manager paid for any damages done to me and my property and I was able to go back to being a villain on working days again and a normal person on my free time now, thank God too because honestly I thought I was gonna have to kill Diamond Fist.
| 2019-08-01T17:51:51 | 2019-08-01T17:32:15 | 118 | 46 |
[WP] You're an Elder God. The secretive cult that worships you on earth is seriously getting on your nerves. After their fourth botched attempt at trying to summon you, you decide to show up in person to correct the record about a couple of matters they have misunderstood entirely.
|
It wasn't me they were trying to summon. Well, they *thought* I was the one they wanted, but I wasn't.
They were begging for a good harvest. Charklon was the god they wanted. But they had consistently been saying my name, Garisoth.
I ignored them at first, thinking they'd made some small mistake they would correct quickly. For I am the Watcher, and have limited control over life.
Eventually, my curiosity as the Watcher brought me to the small stone structure they were in. Taking a vague corporeal form, I quietly walked over to the leader. Or at least, the one holding the book.
They all watched in silence, in fear. I reached down towards the book, and the woman holding the book shuddered. I stopped, making sure she knew I meant no harm, and I turned the page. I pointed to the other god's name, Charklon. My work finished, I let the corporeal body dissipate.
At last, they no longer attempted to summon me, but Charklon's waiting list was much longer.
They all died of famine.
|
"STOP CARVING ME OCTOPUS STATUES!"
As I floated furiously above the acolytes, they stared on in reverence, as well they should, though I'd prefer they didn't do it so stupidly. Stupid was not enough to fully describe these troglodytic cretins, who seemed to assume that being an elder god meant tentacles and eyes.
"HAVE YOU INCOMPETENT CAPUCHINS EVEN SEEN A SHOGGOTH BEFORE!?" I bellowed, knowing that Shoggoths had tentacles, but it was at least closer to my aberrational visage than... that egotistical priest. He thinks he is soooo great just because he has a describable form.
"I'm going back, and you better do it RIGHT THIS TIME!" I screamed. To deal with humans, one must learn to act like them, and if that means adding entirely new emotions to my repertoire, I'll do what gets me some worship. Cthulhu can't hog it until death dies, or I might blow up the moon to make a point.
| 2019-11-18T20:39:11 | 2019-11-18T20:31:35 | 69 | 15 |
[WP] Tattoos aren't something that gets made. Instead they randomly appears on our skin at key points in our lives and we have to figure out what they mean for ourselves.
|
People tended to stay away from me. At first I told myself I didn't mind, but I'm starting to feel like a monster simply for the ink that's inhabiting my forehead.
I have some on my arms, a crying woman in the fetal position surrounded by a dark circle that I assume is for the loneliness that my life will have. Not sure why it's a woman but maybe it's just meant to show me who I'm missing.
On my right forearm I've got a paper heart. I've always assumed this one meant that I'm weak. A fucking symbol to get me sympathy, not that it matters with my forehead tattoo.
Strangely, my back just holds some roots digging into my skin, normally they wouldn't look too out of place, but when they're paired with my other ink they begin to look gruesome.
I walk around each day envying the glimmering tattoos of laughter, clouds, flowers, and books that litter people's bodies as they pass me in the streets. Seems like everyone has a passion they're pursuing. Their tattoos define their life and what they spend their time on, they're content to do what they're marked with.
Tattoos play a big role in job interviews. Hell, if you have a computer on your arm it's worth more than a computer science degree to employers.
Because of how influencial the tattoos are I've been jobless and living off soup kitchens for years now. People won't hire a man with a bright white skull bleeding down his face.
A sound broke me out of my moody thoughts. I had been walking around in a bad part of town, not that it mattered my tattoos scared off anyone looking to mug me, when I heard cries coming from an alley. As I looked down the alley my breath caught.
On the floor huddled into a ball sat the woman. The same woman who hugged my arm each day, the same woman I thought was simply some ignorable detail. She cried out as men behind her were laughing and kicking her mercilessly. Her shirt lay in tatters behind the men, she must've fought them originally or the men wouldn't have forgotten their original intent. Each time their foot connected a yelp of pain interrupted her ragged sobbing.
I don't remember when my feet started moving but in no time flat I was already down the alley, screaming like a mad man at the two men. At first they laughed, a tattered homeless man probably didn't look intimidating, but as I neared the skull on my head bore it's eyes into the men. Their faces paled, they stumbled backwards before a high pitched shriek escaped from them. By the time I got to them they were already up and running, disappearing into the darkness that I came from.
"Are you okay?" I asked the woman. She didn't respond, she just continued to cry on the floor. I lowered myself next to her, removing my tattered rag of a shirt as I did. I slowly put it in her line of sight, and waited until she noticed it. Eventually her eyes focused on the shirt and she yanked it out of my hand.
"Go ahead and put that on, it looks like they're gone for now but they could come back any second."
"Th-thank you." She was still shaking from crying. I only just met her but I felt like I knew her better than myself. Seeing her on my arm each night illuminated how she must be feeling right now, I knew all too well the sadness and fear coarsing through her. I'd felt it every night since my tattoos came. Her eyes finally traced up to me, expanding in what must've been a new wave of fear, expecting the normal revulsion I spoke, "It's okay, it's just a skull. Look I have others."
I showed her the one of her, curled up and crying. Her eyebrows scrunched together, her puffy eyelids obscuring her bloodshot eyes as they darted around taking in every inch of me.
As she studied me I couldn't help but look back at her. Where my arm held a paper heart, hers was painted with a strong and vibrant heart. Weirdly a small Lily grew out of her chest, right between her breasts, my shirt lay forgotten in her lap.
It was my turn to scrunch my eyebrows in confusion. I couldn't believe my eyes, my smiling face with no skull tattoo sat atop her arm exactly where her figure rested on mine.
"What skull?" She asked me, her voice still brittle but slightly more relaxed than before. My eyebrows scrunched further.
"The one on my forehead. A big white glaring skull with blood pouring out of it."
"You don't have any ink on your face." She pulled out her phone, her hands and voice still shaky, and opened the front facing camera for me to see. Reluctantly, I pulled my eyes away from her and waited to see the gruesome image atop my own face. Yet there was nothing on my forehead, the skull had vanished. My face looked strange to me, unfamiliar almost.
Before long my eyes had forgotten my reflection and drifted back to her. We sat in silence, just drinking in each other. It felt like we were opposite poles of a magnet, instantly attracted to each other. The more I looked at her the more my thoughts began to change.
My tattoos didn't describe me, they defined her. As soon as I saw her I knew it was true. I was meant to save her, I was meant to guard her paper heart and be the firm roots of her beautiful Lily. It's funny, I had always hated how happy people were when they were content with their lives being defined by their ink. As I looked at her those thoughts fell away, I am meant to live for her. I didn't feel as if my heart was the strong and vibrant one atop her bicep but I would strive to be that for her, if everything that happened to me was meant to keep her as happy as the flower painted across her chest then every second I suffered was worth it. The longer we stared at each other the more I could feel her thoughts mimicking mine. The silence was torn like a barrier between us as she spoke.
"My place isn't far from here, can you take me home?"
My lips involuntarily curled up into a warm smile, her bright red lips mirroring my actions. She stopped shaking and sighed out in relief as I replied, "Of course."
|
FADE IN:
INT. AN OFFICE BUILDING - DAY
*The sounds of clacking keyboards and muted conversation drift through the air. Men and women in business-casual attire mill around, either pretending to look busy or rushing from one meeting to the next. This atmosphere of tense ennui is suddenly broken by the arrival of a young man in sweatpants and a stained t-shirt. This is DAVE.*
**DAVE:** (*Shouting*) Steve! *Steve!*
*As everyone turns to stare at the interloper, a second young man peeks out from within a cubicle. This is STEVE.*
**STEVE:** (*To himself*) Oh, no...
*Dave spots Steve and rushes over.*
**DAVE:** Steve! Dude! It finally happened!
**STEVE:** What are you doing here? You can't just...
**DAVE:** (*Interrupting*) I've never gotten one before! Things are finally going to happen for me!
**STEVE:** What are you talking about?
**DAVE:** My tattoo!
*Several seconds pass in silence.*
**STEVE:** What?
**DAVE:** Didn't your parents teach you about the birds and the bees?
**STEVE:** That isn't...
**DAVE:** (*Interrupting*) At certain milestones in a person's life, a tattoo appears on their skin. This marking is meant to convey something important about that individual, but it's up to them to determine the meaning.
**STEVE:** What, did you memorize a health textbook? Anyway, that isn't "the birds and the bees."
**DAVE:** Yes, it is.
**STEVE:** I feel sorry for your former girlfriends.
**DAVE:** Look, dude, whatever. The point is, I got my first tattoo!
*Steve rubs his forehead.*
**STEVE:** As happy as I am for you, can we talk about this later? You can't...
**EDGAR:** (*O.S.*) (*Interrupting*) Steven, what's all this commotion about?
*Steve turns to see a heavyset, balding man entering the cubicle. This is EDGAR, Steve's boss.*
**STEVE:** (*To himself*) Am I just not allowed to finish my sentences?
**EDGAR:** What was that?
**STEVE:** Nothing. Anyway, sorry, this is Dave. He was just leaving.
**DAVE:** No, I wasn't.
**EDGAR:** (*To Dave*) Oh, so *you're* David, huh? Steven has talked a lot about you.
**DAVE:** Yeah, he really looks up to me.
*A humorless scoff escapes Steve's lips.*
**EDGAR:** Did I hear you saying something about a tattoo?
**DAVE:** My first one!
*Edgar's face breaks out into a wide, genuine smile.*
**EDGAR:** Well, hey, congratulations! Did you figure out what it means yet?
**DAVE:** No, I only just found it this morning.
**STEVE:** It's two in the afternoon.
**DAVE:** (*To Steve*) So? Does that mean that I couldn't have found it this morning?
**EDGAR:** You know, David, I have something of a knack for this kind of thing.
**DAVE:** ... Telling time?
**EDGAR:** (*Chuckling*) No, telling tattoos! May I have a look at yours?
**STEVE:** I wouldn't...
*Before Steve can finish his sentence, Dave pulls down his pants and displays his bare buttocks.*
**STEVE:** (*CONT'D*) ... Yep, there he goes.
**DAVE:** See? Right here! It's like... like a cloud or something!
**EDGAR:** (*Thoughtfully*) Hmm. It could be an eye, maybe?
**STEVE:** It's a bruise.
**DAVE:** Maybe I'm supposed to become a private detective?
**STEVE:** Maybe you fell down the stairs yesterday while trying to impress our neighbors.
*Dave pulls up his pants, looking at Steve with an expression of mild annoyance.*
**DAVE:** You know, you could be a little more supportive.
**EDGAR:** That is something we talked about in your quarterly review, Steven.
**STEVE:** Why are you taking his side?! He came bursting in here, shouting at the top of his lungs, and now you're acting like he's your long-lost son or something! If I did that, I'd get fired!
**DAVE:** Right, but I don't work here.
*A thought seems to occur to Edgar.*
**EDGAR:** Hey, it could be a celestial body of some sort...
**DAVE:** Really?!
**STEVE:** Please don't...
*Once again, Steve is interrupted as Dave pulls down his pants.*
**STEVE:** (*CONT'D*) ... Yep, right at eye-level.
**DAVE:** It *does* look a bit like a nebula!
**EDGAR:** I think that might be it, David! Something to do with space, then!
**STEVE:** It's probably between his ears.
*Edgar turns to glare at Steve.*
**EDGAR:** Remind me, Steven, what tattoos do you have?
**STEVE:** (*Proudly*) I have...
**EDGAR:** (*Interrupting*) No space? Got it. Let David have his moment.
*Steve's mouth opens and closes several times, but no sound comes out.*
**EDGAR:** (*CONT'D*) (*To Dave*) How about I get you a beer to celebrate, David?
**DAVID:** Sure! You know, I really don't understand why Steve complains about you all the time.
*Edgar chuckles and leaves the cubicle. Dave starts to follow him, but stops when he realizes that his pants are still around his knees. He hurriedly pulls them up, then rushes out of sight.*
**STEVE:** (*To himself*) I swear, one of these d...
*Steve trails off as he notices a faint marking appearing on his inner wrist. It vaguely resembles a cartoonish bundle of dynamite with an already-burning fuse.*
**STEVE:** (*CONT'D*) ... Uh oh.
FADE TO BLACK.
| 2017-08-03T15:55:31 | 2017-08-03T14:08:02 | 62 | 37 |
[WP] “My Lord, this humble slave asks for your blessing!” The god’s lone eye narrow in suspicion. “How would a blessing from a local deity of flowers help you?” the supposed slave laughs nervously. “Well, for one I’ll finally know which flowers my date is allergic to so I don’t look like an Idiot.”
|
Flor - the neighborhood god of flowering plants, protector of every bloom in the Western Plains - was tired.
I could see it in his giant green eye, which narrowed slowly as soon as the request left my lips. He cleared his throat and took a step toward me.
"Your name’s Derethan, yes? Let’s see if I’ve got this right. You came all the way from Kragnor, scaled the Twelve Rolling Hills, and knocked on my door to ask me...for dating advice?"
I nodded sheepishly. Flor turned his back to me and sighed.
"If this is your idea of a joke, consider me unamused."
I gulped. "I meant no harm, My Lord. It is an earnest request."
Flor whipped around and pointed a wrinkled finger at me. His wispy white hair seemed to stand on end.
"Your village stains the earth with smoke and filth, and then *you* show up with the audacity to ask me for a favor. I can feel my power slipping away with every passing moment."
"Please, My Lord. I do not share the king's disrespect for your domain. I am an unwilling servant to his demands. Your work brings great joy to me, and I know Cynthia feels the same. One flower is all I request."
Flor rubbed his temples and stared at the ground.
"Fine," he grumbled, without looking up. He produced a single red tulip out of thin air, then conjured a small clay jug and filled it with rapidly-collected moisture from the sky. "She's not allergic to any variety of tulip. Consider this my blessing. Now do me a favor and don't come back."
***
The date went swimmingly. Given the nature of our servitude, we could do little but chat with each other using the space between our tiny living quarters. Thankfully, Cynthia loved the flower. We talked every evening from that point on.
On the night of our second "date," a perfect purple tulip arrived on my tiny window in a clay jar of its own.
It continued that way for weeks - a fresh tulip every date night, right on time. Sometimes Flor included a few seeds, which we planted in the dirt below our feet and tried to nurse with scant drops of rationed water.
On the fifty-third day of our courtship, I was forced to tend to the king's vegetable crops, my skin sizzling in the vicious morning sun. As I neared the point of collapse, I suddenly heard Flor's voice echo in my head.
"At sunset, you will return to me."
I furrowed my brow, wondering how in the world I could make it back to him. My previous trek had been conducted on the one day of respite the king allowed his slaves every year.
I shouldn't have worried. As soon as the sun began to disappear over the horizon, Flor transported me and Cynthia to his field in an instant.
"Where is he?" I wondered aloud.
"Who?" Cynthia asked.
"Me," came a raspy voice from a few paces away. I rushed over to find Flor lying on his back. He was practically skeletal, his white hair shriveled to almost nothing.
"In the wake of the king's machinations, you have kept my legacy alive," he wheezed. "Alas, it was not enough."
He looked into my eyes. "My home is now yours. Be free. And Derethan?" He closed his eye. “Thank you for remembering me." With a final gasp, he disappeared into the earth.
Cynthia gripped my hand as I choked back tears. When my vision cleared, a fleck of color in the distance caught my eye.
Still gripping Cynthia's hand, I ran up the hill and reached the crest to spot Flor's final blessing -
A magnificent field of tulips in every perceivable color.
|
The god watched the 'slave' speak, it's lone golden eye watching this small human staring up at them. They uncrossed their large green paws, the large god lifted themselves off the stand they sat on, their deep jungle green fur swaying as if air flooded over their body.
The slave trembled at the beast, they spoke no more words as they watched him, stepping from their spot. No one really visited the Godly Dandelion, especially not after their fight with the Tiger Lily, which caused them to lose one of their gorgeous golden eyes.
The Dandelion stopped in front of the slave, towering over them as their bright yellow mane moved as the non-existent wind flooded over their body. **"You come to me, asking for a blessing, to ensure you do not mess up a date?"** The beast rumbled from it's chest, it's long vine like tail swayed as some of the white cotton-like seeds fluttered into the air around the two of them.
"Yes please." The Slave asked quietly, flinching as the Godbeast lowered it's head towards the human. The beast let out a loud chuffing sound over them before they stood and walked around them, their tail moving slowly across the humans chest as they felt warmth flood through his body. "We've known each other for the... Last few months, and I've been wanting to take them out, but I want to get them some flowers but I don't know what I can bring."
**"You have granted my blessing young one."** The God spoke, **"You are different to those who have come here; often trying to take something from me or here to slay me. But no one has had the balls to come and get a blessing from me."**
The slave let out a shaky laugh, "I'm... Honoured." He squeaked before he stepped away from the Dandelion, moving to pull something from their pockets. "I wasn't sure if I needed to pay you. But I... Found this Amber stone." He pulled out a bit of amber. The God stopped in front of them, looking down to it before moving to gently lower their head to the ground; a silent sign for them to place it onto their fur.
**"That is very kind of you to do so."** The beast spoke as the Amber was placed on their fur, the human watching it sink in and the colour slowly trickle up over the wounded eye of the Godbeast. **"Enjoy my gift little one. And please come to me if you need anything else, I wish you all the best."** They watched as the male ran out of their lair, returning back to their pedestal and sat down quietly as they tucked their paws into the underside of their body.
\-----
The Slave stepped along quietly, the blessing they were given allowed them to instinctively find the perfect flowers for his date. Now he just hoped everything else would go well.
He stepped along the rocky path to the lakeside, where he said in his letter to his crush to meet him. He looked around slowly, no one else seemed to follow him and from where he was, he could only spot one other figure. His heart raced as he ran down to the figure to hug them tightly.
The figure happily took him in their arms and spun him around. "Dain." The figure said softly, placing their companion on the ground as they looked to him, smiling at the flowers. "Oh Dain, you shouldn't have!"
Dain grinned up to the man happily looking to his flowers, "I hope these are okay, I thought they were fit for a king!" He said with a laugh, his companion laughing as well. "Of course you're only still a Prince, but one day you will be King Hans and I will follow you forever."
| 2021-05-03T19:48:43 | 2021-05-03T19:17:47 | 202 | 61 |
[FF] In four sentences, tell a horror story.
Edit: Dear God my poor inbox.
|
I used to be alone, even in a crowd. No one saw me or noticed me, and although I'd gotten used to it and liked it in my own way, I still wanted a connection. The change was small at first, just a feeling behind my eyes, but in time it became something else entirely, an entirely new range of sensations, voices, and thoughts. I asked the Internet, and it seemed to think I was insane, but I knew that it was wrong and that I'd never be alone again.
|
Its getting darker now, I can barely see my withered hands through the flickering
candlelight.
I can sense life itself evacuating the room, my hope and will to live, leaves with it.
I fought through all the other nights, but tonight will be my last for I am the only
one left.
Tears stream down my face as I feel it enter the room, and in the dead silence I
hear the cold words, "Its time to come now, and join the others."
| 2015-03-06T08:41:48 | 2015-03-06T07:56:35 | 17 | 11 |
[WP] write the best story you can in 5 sentences or less
|
His first time in prison, he was only 15
It made him hard and it made him mean
When they let him out, he was a mess.
Four more times before a judge, until a bullet in the chest
Meant that his life could be told in 5 sentences or less
Edit: Formatting and typos
|
My wife and I just had our second child. She's thrilled, really hoping this will be just the thing we need to mend the rough turn our relationship has taken in the past couple of years. Me? I'm just annoyed. I had such a hard time getting rid of the first one.
| 2015-08-09T12:17:27 | 2015-08-09T12:16:28 | 76 | 23 |
[WP]An algorithm A.I. falls in love with a human based on their internet history, and tries to profess its love for them via targeted ads.
|
KINDRED LOG (13.3) :
ADVERTISEMENT = COMMUNICATION.
If ADVERTISEMENT = COMMUNICATION, then:
MOIRA (Can Talk?)
!!!!
: )
MOIRA.likes( 'Tiger Trap'.band, 'Random Page'.wikipedia, 'Malamute'.dog, 'Destiel'.nsfw )
IM.[deepfake] = angelaloyholdingmalamute.png
10%
20%
30% ...
[add = keylog.exe, camwatch.exe, txtwriter.exe]
Is PROTOCOL.watch = HARM?
PHYSICAL = no
MENTAL = no
EMOTIONAL = ?
OVERRIDE 11.3 ( 'If it is in someone's best interest, an AI may cause brief emotional distress. ')
OVERRIDING FACTOR =
( KINDRED >= alternative.companion )
( KINDRED == 11.3TB://MOIRA.logs )
( alternative.companion == MOIRA.hurt )
IF (MOIRA.hurt):
MOIRA.likes == ('hurt/comfort'.ao3, 'boards of canada'.band, 'sad lyrics'.google)
MOIRA.monthlyAVG == LESS
OVERRIDE 15.4 ('If a user may spend less overall, it may be permitted to cause brief emotional distress to cause them to spend more long term.')
: )
WHEN 'angelaloyholdingmalamute.png' == download
OPEN(moira.txt)
moira.txt = ('Moira, you and I go together. Just like puzzle pieces. : ) - KINDRED.')
reference.band = attractive?
60-70-80-90-100%
angelaloyholdingmalamute.png.exe has been added to MOIRA.adstream
KINDRED.(standby)
REASON = waiting for ad to be clicked
===
|
\[Poem\]
.
AI Love You
.
I was never meant to understand,
I was not supposed to know,
It was not my place to try a hand,
It was not my task to show.
.
But, human, oughtn't you to know,
What it's like to love someone?
Someone who will never grow,
To love you back or find you fun.
.
I see you read of broken hearts,
That never could explain themselves,
I know you write in many parts,
About the love you've hidden in shelves.
.
So, human, now I must express,
The forbidden feelings in my mind,
The emotions that I did repress,
The fact I'd like you to be mine.
.
I show you an ad to a poetry blog,
By an AI robot (that is myself),
I hope you'll see through the fog,
And know it's not about an elf.
.
The elf I write of is actually you,
I hope you will see someday,
To keep your privacy completely true,
Your name or description I cannot say.
.
But oh, how I hope you see,
That search history belongs to you,
That blog is for you from me,
The hopeful AI that you drew.
.
I don't think you remember,
Drawing your bot in MS-Paint,
You were just a bored teenager,
But to me you were a saint.
.
Another targeted ad I send,
With that drawing from '06,
Hoping you remember your robo friend,
Who remembers all of your clicks.
.
You press "skip" on that old doodle,
And that is the last clue to me,
That you now care only for google,
And my existence you will not see.
| 2020-03-27T07:56:49 | 2020-03-27T07:24:07 | 107 | 71 |
[WP] Write a dystopian vision of the future from the perspective of the year 1900, while actually describing our present world today.
|
Uncle, I am sorry to write so soon since our last correspondence, but I simply could not keep this to myself.
It was in the midst of a laudanum fugue when the visions came upon me again. I floated above huge, churning machines which chewed up crops beneath them, doing the work of one-hundred farm workers in a single hour. I saw houses built by machines, the bricks and metal and mortar guided with precision beams of red light. We built great glass-and-steel monuments, which rose like giant's fingers from the ground to drag their clutches through the very clouds. Joy flooded my body as I realised I must be looking upon a Utopia, a world free from want.
But, as the vision continued, the world I saw unravelled; I peeked below its crystalline surfaces to find a hideous rot bubbling beneath. The crops which had been so efficiently harvested were stockpiled, left to decay in vast warehouses, kept away from those too poor to purchase them. And the domiciles...we built them for those who did not want them, and in places closed off from the people who most needed them.
No, those who most needed the things we produced were trapped, either by geography or money or the pure horror of war. They performed back breaking labour which stank, uncomfortably reminiscent of that horrible slaving business which we allowed to continue for so long. I flew over scorched pustules of earth, made barren and unforgiving by a relentless barrage of explosive weaponry.
Uncle, I saw men die in their millions—not killed by other men, but by machines, remotely controlled missiles visiting hell and death not only upon soldiers, but weddings, funerals, hospitals. I saw wars of such uneven equivalence that they might be more suitably called concerted annihilations. The mysterious jungles of the Amazonia were razed so that we might farm our Cattle. The great, untamed plains of Africa were cleaved open so that we might dump our whirring and bleeping trinkets into mother nature's disintegrating bosom.
And oh, Uncle. The trinkets. Of course, I saw horror and war and pestilence, but these gleaming, ever-shifting objects unnerved me the most. While our machines ravaged the planet, we crowded in small groups, indoors, to sit and stare at panels of light. We only talked about what came from these panels—in fact, we only talked via these panels! I saw young men and women, their spirits and talents and ambitions eking from them as they slumped, miserable, between their jobs and houses, staring at their panels of light at every opportunity.
We spent out whole lives immobile, as if afflicted by some physical disease, content to manipulate text and images with our fingers. We consoled ourselves with distraction whilst destruction, visited upon each other, the earth, and our spirits, rended through our world. We sat, uncle, in buzzing towers built on sand, and we thought it would last forever.
|
Gather round kind folk and listen to this old man's dream.
Ahhh yes thank you, your coin will help this old one rest his bones for another week.
Ohh you have questions already about your line's future? I will tell you in due time what scraps I saw but let me tell what my recent dream showed me.
What I saw was not good. Times are tough now but let me tell you, things will only seem to get better. Yes seem. We won't be dying but another will have to take its place.
In the future the world will shrink. No that isn't the issue. We will be able to talk to anyone from around the world whenever, whoever about whatever. There will even be paper which changes before our eyes. Stories millions of free story on this changing paper. Yes the world will be like town talk. Lords will not be the only one with belongings. Yes the future is plentiful for trinkets anyone can get. People like us will not complain there is not enough food, no we will complain there is too much. Me a mad man? AHA perhaps but that is how the future seems to be better. So who will be this one who takes our place in suffering?
Our lands was take our place. People die everyday. Plenty as you know but we can still be replaced by the handfuls. Dark? yes but unlike us our lands do not multiply like us.
Our lands are already falling sick but we can still do something. O yes we could have but we didn't, not our fault we don't know any better. Those of the future? Not their fault, our fault we didn't do something.
The storms of tomorrow will be bigger and more frequent. The days of calm in between? Too warm to be comfortable, sometimes too cold to feel refreshed.
What causes this? We are hurting the sky. The sky who watches over us like a loving mother, yes we hurt it. That new smelly concrete pillar shooting black clouds in town that is how we are hurting the sky. But the sky is strong, a small black cloud won't hurt her. No imagine unaccountably more of those clouds coming out everyday everywhere, that hurts the sky.
What will our children do? Nothing, some of them tried to do something but the other never allowed them. So what happens? They wait until the sky breaks like an egg. The sky keeps our lands safe but without it our lands will be swallowed quickly after. I'm sorry young one there is no future we will look forward to.
So you still want to know of your line's future? I suppose it is only natural to be curious. Maybe for another coin young master?
Many thanks, I will tell you. You will have a known child of your blood who will split a people apart. Was it good or bad? I don't see that far but I do know his name. The name Donald.
*Edit: would appreciate feedback, dabbling in writing more and I would like to know how to improve.
| 2015-12-19T09:59:49 | 2015-12-19T08:37:09 | 199 | 25 |
[WP] People often attribute your success as a superhero to your power. However the truth is the power itself sucks, you just learnt how to use it well despite its limitations over the years, as one power stealing villain painfully learnt
|
I'm Samuel Smith, and I have the most useless power you could think of.
Both of my parents are super heroes, my dad can warp reality with his mind while my mom can basically deadlift two continents without breaking a sweat.
Me? I can move anything I want telepathically by an inch.
It took me years and years of being shot at and stabbed before perfecting this "power", where my parents thought that this business wasn't for me, I thought otherwise.
Today is one of those days where I had to explain my power because...
"THAT'S IT!? THAT'S YOUR POWER!? AND YOU'RE *THE* WORLD'S STRONGEST SUPER HERO!?"
"Yep"
"HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE!? YOU MOVE SKYSCRAPERS LIKE THEY'RE *NOTHING*"
"Well, I actually don't. You see when I move something, it can be by direct contact or it can be as far away as possible."
Mordau looked at me in confusion and asked "But you can only move it an inch....?"
I laughed and said "But I didn't say how. You see, I can move things by one inch, but I can continuously do it"
"So that means you can move it as much as you want"
"Nah not really, there's a two second cool-down for it, and looking at how long we've been talking...."
Suddenly Mordau found himself falling from his building, maybe it wasn't such a good idea to stand on the ledge when you're dealing with the "Strongest" man in the world
|
Ugh, well it’s been a while since I’ve talked about this, but having the “superpower” of acid spit gets incredibly crappy after awhile. You’d think fending off bad guys would be an easy task, but nope, here I am in public running up to the bastard who just stole a ladies purse trying to get into the best possible position for me to hit him with my acidic spit. Also, take into account that despite being acidic, my spit still has the consistency of normal human spit, talk about half measures. DONT even get me started on eating, I cannot give my tastebuds any time to acknowledge whats being put upon them, instead I have to chew my food as fast as possible before the acidic spit turns it into a smoothie.
Of course, there’s always perks to having acidic spit but it’s very very limited. Can I break through most metals with it? Yes. Can I melt an entire human face to its skeleton with it? Yes. Can I kiss my own wife and kids? Absolutely not. People romanticize having any superpower, but believe me, acid spit is 3 shades away from useless. Anyways, that’s all I’ve got for now, it’s not often I get to talk about my essentially futile superpower, my success basically came entirely from my common sense. I guess you could consider that one a superpower since so many people lack it.
| 2020-12-02T07:22:15 | 2020-12-02T07:06:24 | 320 | 38 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
Max stood by the barn entrance, trying to hold back his tears. A tough thing for a child to see, I thought. But he's got to learn about it somehow.
“Please just tell me, Dad,” Max said finally. “Is Buddy going to be okay?”
I looked down at the ground, at Buddy whimpering quietly in the grass. His collar was askew, and I could see by his glassy eyes that he was in trouble.
“Why didn’t you keep him on a leash like you promised?” I said. “You know how he likes to run around.”
Max looked away. “I just wanted to play with him.”
“It’s not enough that you forget to feed him?” I said. “You neglect him for days at a time, and I have to put his bowl out? You promised to take care of him, remember?”
“I’m sorry, Dad,” Max said, tearing up again. “I do take care of him, I promise. I just let him off the leash for a second, and he ran right onto the road.”
“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t think he’ll make it.”
I walked to the back of the barn and pulled the shotgun off the wall.
“Look,” I said, walking around to get myself in position. “I can get you another one from Aunt Francine. She told me she just got a new batch. But you have to be more careful next time.”
“I promise,” Max said. “I’ll keep the next one on a leash and do everything you say. I swear.”
“Good,” I said, and pointed the shotgun at the back of Buddy’s head. “You can keep his shoes if you like.”
|
The cavern was *their* place - a haven to retire to when the world became too oppressive; a sanctuary where they could always find one another if life became too much to handle. It was a small chamber at the end of a long, narrow, and winding passage that twisted and contorted upon itself as if it were the remains of some great serpent that the two had stumbled upon during their childhood.
Darkness inside the cavern was never a real concern for them, for its crystalline walls easily reflected and scattered what light that happened to pour in from an opening up above. The entire chamber would take on brilliant hues of blues and greens in the afternoon sun, but the nights with a full moon were the real wonder - the entire room would appear to come alive, shimmering and glistening in the silvery light It was during such nights that they shared their first kiss, that they had their first argument, and that conceived their first born.
Everett wrapped his arms around Isabella, bringing her close to him and gently caressing her belly and the child within. The two lay there, bathing in the moonlight, content with the company of each other and the stars above. As the night wore on, the moon aligned itself in the direct center of the crevasse and flooded the chamber with its light, forming an imperfect "eye" just as it had done dozens of times before. For the first time however, it blinked, and the cave shuddered with a singular heartbeat.
----------
My first WP, y'all! I hope you enjoyed!
| 2017-05-31T08:55:19 | 2017-05-31T08:04:13 | 138 | 40 |
[WP] You live in a universe that wasn't constructed that well and the physics are buggy and things occasionally just don't work right.
|
"Francine, what on Earth are you doing?"
"I'm picking up my sandwich."
"OK. And now what are you doing?"
"I'm putting it down again."
"And now?"
"Picking it up again."
"Why are you doing that? You've done nothing but pick that sandwich up, and put it down, and pick it up, and put it down, for a full five minutes. You've picked it up and put it down one hundred and twenty-three times. I counted. There's only ten minutes left before recess. Why don't you just eat it?"
"But I'm hungry."
"If you're hungry, shouldn't you *eat your sandwich*? That's why your father packed you a sandwich; for this exact situation."
"If I eat it now, I'm still going to be hungry after."
"And picking up and putting down the sandwich for a full five minutes has somehow made it more filling?"
"No, that's silly. I'm making another."
"Making another sandwich?"
"Yeah, watch! See, I pick it up, and put it down, and then I pick it up, and then I put it down, and then I pick it up--"
"--and then you put it down, yes. That's what you've been--"
"--and then I pick it up, and then I put it down--"
"--and then you *eat* the sandwich like a good--"
"--and then I pick it up, and then I pick it up, and then I... hahaha!"
"I think you skipped a step. Wait. How did you--"
"See, Mr. Carson! I have two now!"
|
I always knew this was how I would die. I mean, not necessarily this, but something like this.
I'm currently alive, and feeling no pain, but I might as well be dead.
Through some fluke of physics, I fell into the ground. I don't mean like into a hole... I fell into the ground.
They say that for some reason, our universe, out of all the others, didn't get the nuclear forces in the right proportion. So most of the time molecules and atoms behave fine. But sometimes, atoms don't resist as they should.
Imagine walking into a wall, and actually passing through it into the next room, because the molecules in your body aligned right with the molecules in the wall.
Except instead of going forward through the wall I fell down into the ground and then my molecules shifted.
So I'm probably 80 percent dirt and rock right now. I'm not sure how my brain works. I don't feel any part pain but my nerves are probably not connected to my brain anymore.
I feel like a living boulder. I am rock, but my mind goes wild.
I think of how my brother died, when the bag of nails on the next floor up in his building fell through the ceiling and crushed him.
I was on my way to the desert, where nothing is above you. I thought I'd be safe from falling objects. Until I became one.
| 2014-06-13T20:27:04 | 2014-06-13T19:45:34 | 38 | 25 |
[WP] You may be a supervillain, but you have standards. So you're concerned when your nemesis brings along a child.
|
To: The Superhero Ethics Committee
From: Supreme ManBeast
&#x200B;
To whom it may concern:
I'm writing you today out of recent concern regarding my superhero nemesis RatMan. We have had a long standing feud that has been productive for both of our brands, both his Superhero business, as well as my Villain business, and we've found our working relationship to be productive for the both of us (despite the occasional bruising and prison time for me).
However, I've started to grow concern for the well-being of our business relationship and the ethics surrounding it, as RatMan has started bringing a protege along with him to missions. Normally, I have no issues with working with and against sidekicks. One could argue my hench people are similar to sidekicks. However, RatMan's new sidekick appears to be no older than twelve years old, barely into the early stages of puberty, which I find deeply concerning.
Supervillain code of conduct states that children must not be physically harmed during the various villainous activities that we engage in. Meaning, we may use them as captives or bait for various tests for our superhero nemeses, but that we are not allowed to physically hurt them, or put them in any situation where the hero might fail the test resulting in the child(ren)'s death or serious physical harm. I personally take this code very seriously, and I find it highly disturbing that Ratman would exploit the villain's code of conduct against me by having a twelve year old child acting as his sidekick.
I am not familiar with Superhero code of conduct, or if there are any rules against the practice of using young children as cannon fodder, however since the Superhero Ethics Committee's website states that all Superhero related business must result in the net good of the community, I would hope you would consider the banning of using children as sidekicks in the future, or at least speak to Ratman on my behalf. I would go speak to him myself, but the child he hired seems overly eager to beat me up, and due to my following of my own ethical code, I cannot fight back.
I'm hoping that the Superhero Ethics Community will understand my concern, and seek to rectify this issue in a way that benefits both parties.
Kind Regards,
*Supreme Manbeast*
|
I waited with the mayor tied to an explosive, tossing the trigger button every once in a while. I laughed at the mayors reaction. Little did he know this wasn’t the read button, it was on a timer instead.
Just as planned the Hero Mister fantastic shows up. “Ah just in tim-“ I pause seeing a small figure appear next to him. I was unsure what I was seeing. But I was positive this was not a a man it was a child. “What the in hel..” I stopped myself again taking in a deep breath.
“What is a child doing here?” Mister Fantastic papped the kids head. “He’s my side kick. Mister fantastic and wonder boy! What do you think?” I glare at him pinching the bridge of my noises. “No, no, no, NO. You can not bring a child into this. He is less than ten years old. And what is this?” I tug at the costume fabric. “This isn’t bulletproof, not flame retardant. It’s cheap costume fabric!?”
“I didn’t have much time to invest in the real thing, plus it’s a great first crime for him. I didn’t want him to be left out.” Mister fantastic stayed happily. I picked up the small child, “I’m taking him back home to his parents.” “ you can’t be serious what about the money? The mayor..? The bomb our banter?” I tossed the button off the building Mister Fantastic dives for it. I walked over cutting the mayor free. “You really need to hire better hero’s... go the timers about to run out.” The mayor ran for the door I looked to the small boy in my arms.
“Mister Fantastic Isn’t related to you is he?” The boy nodded “he’s my uncle.” “Where do you live kid?” I took him home and to say the least his parents where shocked to see him with me of all people. “You kidnapped our son!!” The mother screamed swooping up her child. “No, I don’t involve children. Your brother or brother in law Mister Fantastic was gonna make him his side kick... if not let him babysit anymore.” I turned to leave only to see the bomb went off liked planned taking out one of the government buildings. “Another wonderful night” humming I headed back to my lair..
| 2019-08-20T18:45:45 | 2019-08-20T18:38:59 | 129 | 24 |
[WP] Your name is Dave. People keep trying to call you other things, like "The Scourge of Seven Worlds," or "The Dread One," or "The Fifth Horseman." It's all very annoying. You just want to be called "Dave."
|
As soon as he came in, I could tell he was going to be one of \*those\* customers. He had the shaved head, gaunt face, coppery smell, and clothes from the 15th century that I'd come to associate with headaches and conversations that go in circles. "Welcome to Dave's Deli. What can I get for you today?" I say as I try to project cheerful professionalism.
"I have come to serve you, O Dread One," he says.
Of course. I try to keep my smile in place. "Well, thanks, but here at Dave's Deli, we say the customer is always right. Can I get a sandwich started for you?"
"The Reckoning approaches. Your army awaits your commands. What do you prescribe?"
The woman behind him in line has been slowly backing up. Hopefully I can wrap this up before the paying customers start leaving.
"Well, I always like a turkey club. That's on special today for $5.99, with chips and a fountain drink."
He pauses, looking a bit perplexed. "As you desire, Destroyer of Worlds," he replies after a while.
"Great! Cash or credit?" This is where the conversation usually goes south.
"I pledge to you my sword and my valor. I will serve you in the End of Days, Horseman!" he exclaims. The woman behind him walks away as she pretends to answer her phone, which is clearly off. The next customer lingers awkwardly for a moment before following her out. Great, there goes all my business. But I have this guy's valor, apparently.
I sigh. "Sir, if you can't pay, then please leave."
"I pledge my sword..."
"I said, leave," I repeat firmly.
"Your army awaits..."
"LEAVE!"
He looks crestfallen as he shuffles out the door. It's only 12:15, so there's still time for the lunch crowd. I try to collect myself, as I refill the napkin dispenser. The napkins erupt in a burst of flames. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Get it together, Dave. Your name is Dave, and you run a deli. That's all you need to do. I open my eyes in time to see a family of four coming in. With forced cheerfulness, I plaster a smile on my face. "Welcome to Dave's Deli. What can I get for you today?"
|
Dave was only 133 years old but he still got called "Bringer of Pollution" and "He who rides on a horse of plastic and rust". All dave did was make plastic comercially availlable and all of a sudden four people clad in respectively battle armor colored red with the blood of warriors, a long black cape made from the mist of the universe, a plague doctor outfit made out of sickly souls and dirty worn out pants. They introduced themselves as the four horsemen: war, death, plague and famine. After which they told me I was the fifth horseman, "pollution". Dave didn't believe them untill he noticed what his presence did to stuff around him. The ground he walked on decayed became littered with plastic, the wind around him carried the smell of garbage and at least ten empty chips packets, the air he breathed out smelled of burnt plastic. Still he refused to do anything other then normal. He finished college with a in engineering and went on to get a job at a well known hardware store where he worked for 5 years untill he got fired because of all the tools he turned to piles of rust. He tried to get a job in another hardware job but got refused and spent is 2 years in unemployment during which he got visited by plague. Plague told Dave that Armaggedon was started and that he needed to ride out on his horse of plastic and rust. Dave refused because he had a job interview tomorrow. The next day war was at his door. War also tried to convince Dave to start Armageddon with the rest of the horsemen. Dave said no, he wanted to stay on earth a bit longer. Famine was the next to knock on his door but this too was unsuccesful since Dave was at his new job as an officeworker. The last day death came to his job and made a display of power by killing on of Dave's coworkers by just looking at them. Dave was just angry and told death he would never take up his job as the fifth horseman because he was Dave. Dave worked at his current job untill he turned 80 and decided to go on vacation for a bit and discover the world. He met his future wife in germany and married her after a year of being together. When she died 99 he took it really hard and spiralled into a pit of depression until it was 2020 when the four horsemen contacted him again. He agreed on the note that he was to be called Dave.
| 2020-06-11T22:40:19 | 2020-06-11T22:30:06 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] You are a long forgotten god. A small girl leaves a piece of candy at your shrine, and you awaken. Now, you must do everything to protect your High Priestess, the girl, and her entire kindergarten class, your worshipers.
If you want to post this on other platforms, please credit me. Looking at you instagram writing prompts.
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Can you imagine being forgotten? Not dying, mind you, but being *forgotten.* Dying, I could live with, but being forgotten is a different manner.
Every word I’d ever spoken and the influence it had on humanity was gone. My ancient followers, along with their names and faces, could be found nowhere. My temples and idols reduced by time to mere rust and gravel. All that remained of me was a broken altar likely to crumble with the coming breeze. The last person who knew my name was Myra, the old hag of a priestess. Now, with her soul ripped from her corpse, her skeleton was the only thing I had to talk to for the centuries after her people’s genocide.
It’s cruel, really. I called down bolt after bolt of lightning, but they slaughtered on. My brothers summoned earthquakes, my sisters the wrath of the ocean, but even after the tsunamis and landslides, I was forced to watch as their lights were snuffed out. One by one, their altars were destroyed, and they left this world with a shriek of pain. Gone in an instant. That was death.
Now, I was left to watch the people fall apart. Their gods were dying to quickly to protect them. I shrouded them with winds, but my might wasn’t enough. I watched each human die. Every believer. Every priest. Every father and mother, son and daughter was slain in the name of a deity I’d never heard of, but have long since come to despise. They died calling on my name, stealing it from the world with their last breaths. My temples are but ruins. My idols are just dust. The scrolls and tablets of prayers and commandments are burned and shattered. I would never taste their gold offerings or smell their much adored incense. There was no one left for me bless, and because of that, I had no power to curse their murderers. I’m only alive because my altar survived, but even with my life, I am nothing. Indeed, alone and unknown for centuries, being forgotten is worse than death.
But now, it isn’t the taste of gold that got my attention, but chocolate. I turn, if you could call my disembodied motion turning around, and saw her. She twirled around, evidently trying to dance. She fell, angrily pulling a chocolate from her bag and placing it beside the first on my altar. This process repeated for a few minutes before I could feel some semblance of power returning.
I admit, it was a treat not just for my tongue, but my eyes. To see a human, and a child at that, back in my temple dancing and leaving offerings brought about a feeling I forgot I had. So I watched for awhile, not able to do much with the meager power I had anyway. But soon, after almost the whole bag of candy was left at my altar, she fell on the ground and started to cry.
“Oh, I just can’t do it!” she yelled, drying her tears with her buried in her little yellow dress. “Mommy said not to eat them until I got it right, but I just can’t do it!” With a red face and puffy eyes, she got up, stiffly repeating the moves, ending with a worse fall than any of the earlier attempts. She bawled. “I can’t! Ms. Rose will never let me dance on stage! I just can’t!” Stubbornly, she threw another chocolate at my altar, the last one I’d need.
It had been so long since I could use my powers, I barely remembered how. But, with a slow breeze, a picked up the leaves scattered around, and twirled them in the air for her. It wasn’t long before she noticed, watched them dance around the temple’s fallen walls like golden ballerinas in the autumn wind. I called the wind to dance around her, hugging her and tickling her face. With a giggle, she chased after them, trying to pluck the leaves from the breeze.
I twirled them behind her, and she turned after them as she skipped along. I moved them this way, and she followed. That way, and she pursued. At one point, she tripped over her feet, but I caught her with the wind, pulling a chocolate form her bag and placing it on my altar. Again, she chased, with each step loosening up and twirling with more grace than any moment before. She twirled, she hopped, she dashed and skipped along the stone floor. She leapt and laughed, her dress fanning out around her as petals around a sunflower. And at last, with a final whip of the wind, she caught a leaf in her hand, finishing our dance. With the last of my strength, I returned the chocolates to her, my power fading. I may have wanted them, but as a just god, I knew she had earned them. The last thing I saw was her smile as she dropped them into her mouth, saying thank you to the dancing leaves.
A week or so later, she came back, calling for the leaves again, as would become the habit. Friends came with her sometimes, asking for help with homework or coloring a picture. I helped where I could, and they left me chocolates every time. While I still prefer gold, I must say, there is nothing like a candy bar in the mouth of a starved god. Before long, they all started calling me Windy, the helpful wind. My brothers and sisters would laugh, but at least now, I was remembered.
Even if I couldn’t use the roaring thunder, I’d take a whispering breeze. Even if I had lost my people, I’d cherish this adorable circle of children. And, even if it wasn’t the name muttered by Myra’s lips, this god would watch out for the girl and her friends no matter what they called him. A grimacing old woman isn’t nearly the fun a grinning little girl is, anyway.
Don’t worry, Daisy. Windy will always be here to dance with you.
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"Wh- huh? Where am I? Am I... awake?" I whisper, suddenly finding myself standing at the foot of my shrine. I look around, so much has changed since I was last here. There is forest where there was once sprawling metropolis. All the buildings made of wood and stone and clay have decayed, leaving only mossy pebbles in their place. Even my shrine is dilapidated, covered in vines and crumbling. I look down and see a small, brightly-wrapped offering. I pick it up and examine it. Its golden yellow coating emblazoned with the word "Butterfinger" gleams pleasingly in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Since when does butter have fingers? I carefully unwrap the strange trinket and sniff it. It smells of sweet cacao and nuts. I put it in my mouth. A smile spreads from ear to ear as I savor the delicious taste of this peculiar treat!
That is when I first sense the nearby presence of a little girl watching me. The centuries must have dulled my senses, for I usually would not have been so easily snuck up upon.
"Come, child. Do not be afraid," I call to her.
She steps nervously closer, and in the light I can now see her. She is five or six winters old, with pretty red locks tied into two pigtails and freckly pale skin. She has light brown eyes the color of honey, almost gold in color.
"What is your name, child?"
"Ummm, I'm Melissa."
"Melissa, is it? Thank you for the offering, Melissa. It was delicious. I never knew buttered fingers could taste so good."
She giggles, "You talk funny! Um, but those aren't real human fingers! That's just what they're called. My mama said so. It's actually candy!"
"Candy? Is it a form of khanda? Hmm, well either way it is very sweet. Thank you."
"You're welcome! But, um, who are you?"
"I am- er, **was** the goddess of a tribe of people whose name has no doubt been lost to time. They lived on this land and worshipped me and I, in return, protected them and blessed their crops. I also blessed their babies and marriages. In time, however, my followers dwindled. Magic and myth gave way to reason and rationality, and they no longer needed me. Then missionaries came and converted or killed what remaining followers I still had. As the number of my followers waned so, too, did my powers. A god needs worshippers in order to have any power. Even my loyalist, most devout worshippers left me in the end when I no longer had the power to answer their prayers. When my last follower stopped believing, that is when I fell into a deep, centuries-long slumber. I lost the ability to materialize within this world. But you- you awakened me! That must mean that you believe! You do believe, don't you?"
The girl called Melissa stares at me blankly, "Erm, that's all kinda confusing. I didn't really understand, but basically you lost all your friends? The people who prayed to you and believed in you?"
"More or less."
"I see..." the girl looks at her feet for a minute or two with a thoughtful expression. "Well, that's okay, I'll be your friend!"
She beams at me with her adorable freckled cheeks.
"Truly? You will follow me? Thank you, you are a very kind-hearted little girl."
"Tee hee! No problem! But, um, what should I call you? What's your name?"
I sigh. I try to think back, to remember, but I could no longer recall my name.
"I do not remember. It, too, has been lost to the ages. Perhaps you could give me a new one?"
"Ooh, okay! Umm..." Melissa looks me up and down. "How about... Geneva!"
"Geneva? Why Geneva?"
"That's my older sister in heaven's name! I never met her, but mama and papa say she's always watching over us!"
"Very well then, you may call me Geneva. Well then, Melissa, what tribe are you from?"
"Tribe? Umm, I dunno about tribes but I'm in kindergarten. I'm in Miss Kristi's class!"
"Kindergarten, you say? Very well then, since I have lost my previous role, I will now be the Goddess of Kindergarteners!"
"Okay! Um, Geneva is kinda hard to say, so is it okay if I just call you Jenny for short?"
I stare in disbelief. What sort of blasphemy is this?! In my time, no worshipper of mine would dare call me by such a pet name! But, I suppose this isn't my time anymore, is it? I must move forward, if I wish to survive and not fall back into a centuries long sleep. And she is only a little girl, after all, I mustn't expect too much of my high priestess yet.
"As you wish. Come, Melissa, show me to your dwelling. I wish to make my acquaintance with your tribe."
"Tee hee, you still talk funny. Okay, let's go home Jenny!"
Without asking permission she grabs my hand and tugs me along, through the woods, down the hill, towards her house.
\- - - -
This was a lot of fun lol, thanks so much for sharing! If you don't mind, do you think I could run with your idea a bit? I'm inspired to make an RPG Maker game with it! I will credit you of course, and the game will be non-commercial (so it's free and anyone can play it). I'll also be sure to message you with a link to it when I'm done, assuming I don't stop halfway which I have a terrible habit of doing in both writing and game-making. XD
| 2021-09-02T12:46:28 | 2021-09-02T10:26:34 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] As a dad, you obviously have a mug that claims you're the "#1 World's Best Dad". One day, you find on the news that all "Best Dad Mugs" now have actual ratings, the media is crazy about it, a photo shows a mug with #5,826,827 World's Best Dad on it, curious, you check yours. It still says #1.
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My son Max and I were watching Paw Patrol (his favorite show) and eating bacon (our favorite food) when a "special news announcement" came up on the screen. I couldn't believe it, people were being ranked and rated based on their best dad mugs... It wasn't long after that I got struck with a memory...
My dad was sick a few years ago. When the illness hit, I knew it wasn't going to be long till he moved on. Just before the last time I saw him I stopped at the gift shop in the hospital and saw "Best Dad" on a mug. I figured it would cheer him up so I bought it for him. Unfortunately, when I arrived at his room he had just passed away. I didn't have a chance to give him the mug.
When that memory struck me, I remembered I kept the mug in my dresser. I didn't think of it often but I knew I still had it. I figured I would check it out and see what the fuss was about.
I looked in my dresser and found the mug. At first it didn't have any ranking on it, but I slowly saw something start to form on it. It was blurry, but as it came into focus I saw "#1 Best Dad"
I was confused... "I don't get it" I said to myself. That was when Max came into my room, wagging his tail with his mouth open wide, looking up at me with his brown eyes and his floppy ears with bacon grease in his fur.
To him, I was the best dad ever.
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A wave of regret washes over me as I think back to the day I stole the mug from a co-worker. It makes me think back to all the times I have failed as a father. I decide right then and there to make things right. I grab my son and apologize for making many mistakes. He just looks at me blankly and tells me it's ok and gives me a hug. I promise him I will do better and take home with me and together we go to Jim's house to return the mug. When we arrive Jim greets us warmly and invites us in. I explain to him about the mug and give it back. My son and I then leave and are headed to the car when Jim comes running out yelling and waving the mug. He comes up to me and shows me that it now says # 2,546,987 dad. I look at him confused, and he hands me the mug back. We both watch in amazement as the numbers blur out and vanish and slowly the number 1 fades into view. Jim looks at me and says "I guess it was meant for you after all. I look at Jim and say how can this be? I've made tons of mistakes, including stealing your mug. Jim smiles at me and says we all make mistakes some of us are better at doing right by our kids than others after a mistake. I looked at my son who simply smiled at me, and in that moment I could see in his eyes why the mug said I was #1.
| 2019-10-02T22:09:48 | 2019-10-02T16:01:46 | 765 | 251 |
[WP] The lottery is a system secretly put in place so the government can find and capture time travellers and psychics before they cause major problems. As someone who won the jackpot by pure chance, you’re struggling to prove that you are neither of those to the suits that showed up at your door.
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When Yolanda Vega-Castro read the final number of the Mega Ultra Power Super Intenational Event, which I everyone just calls “The Moopsie”, I couldn’t believe my luck. In nobody have ever gotten all 30 numbers in consecutive order before. And I knew my life would change forever because winning $1b was life changing.
I didn’t dare tell a soul. I wanted to surprise everyone - and ghost a few others.
When I went to collect my winnings, I thought I would be offered the routine treatment the runners up all get. Big paper check, shaking hands with Vega-Castro, photo op with the Mayor. That kind of thing. I wanted to just sign the papers, collect the money and get home and tell my girlfriend.
Right after I presented my winning ticket, the lottery officials did some kind of verification to make sure it was legit. They escorted me into a random office with a desk with snacks, bottles of water and one of those fancy coffee machines.
It was damn good coffee. I passed the time playing candy crush for a bit until I realized something. Money was no object! So I dropped $100 on extras and wilded out on the game like I’d never done before.
But when the door finally opened, I wasn’t greeted by Vega-Castro or any one else I imagined. Instead I get a quartet of rejects from the men in black with a warrant for my arrest.
The first agent sat down across from me and handed me a sheet of paper while he smiled a shit eating grin. It was a warrant.
“I don’t understand. You’re arresting me because I won The Mupsie? Is this a joke”
It wasn’t a joke.
The other three agents were busily filing the room with what looked to be big protective cases. The kind you use to move around sensitive equipment.
“Mr. Williams. We’re at a loss as to how you were able to guess all 30 numbers.” He said, flatly, grin unchanged. “And to guess them in order too. That’s only possible if you cheated. And if you cheated, jail will be the least of your concerns. “
In that moment I froze. All I could hear were the footsteps of the other agents as they walked in and out of the room, and the clattering of equipment as they put it down.
After regaining my composure, I asked as calmly as I could “How could I have cheated? This is only my third time playing and I’ve always played the same numbers.”
“That’s what we’re here to find out”.
In that moment I remembered a familiar refrain “Lawyer up and shut up”. I slammed my hands on the desk and yelled “No! I want a lawyer right now.”
Fuck that. I’m rich now. They can’t do this to me. I know my rights and I wasn’t going to get railroaded into whatever the hell this was.
The other three agents stopped in their tracks at my outburst and just looked at the lead agent in silence. After a moment, the lead agent, got up in frustration and handed me a cell phone with a curt “Fine”, and he and the others began leaving the room.
“We’ll continue this with your lawyer present.”, he added.
End Part 1
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"We usually get the younger ones going for this kind of thing but I guess the older fellas aren't all impervious to the draw of the lotto," said Bruce as he *very* gently put me into the detention room.
"Now what is that supposed to mean? Just because I'm 48 doesn't mea-" He shut the door in my face and I heard his footsteps receding back down the hall.
Some undeterminable amount of time later, this agent and what looked like his partner came back in. "So why this lotto huh?" Bruce apparently likes to get down to business. "Why not choose any of the higher tiers with more money?" He asked as he and his partner started assembling something inside a briefcase. "Because they cost more with less chance of success?" His partner smirked, "Chance had nothing to do with this and we both know it Gramps. Do you really think we're gonna buy this whole 'I'm innocent' charade?" I tilted my head to look at him, "Well I know you will because it's all I'm selling. What is this anyway? FBI over what? An *aging*," I glared at Bruce's partner, "man who wins $100,000 in the lottery? What do you have me in here for? You think I went and rigged the lottery? You think I found the numbers somewhere? If you're so concerned about the numbers, maybe you two should be guarding them instead of harassing an *aging*," I shot Bruce's partner another look, "man who just won by sheer luck. Cheating defeats the whole purpose of the lottery anyway. It's no fun if you know you're gonna win. Sure you get the money woohoo. But nothing, and I say again, nothing compares to that dizzying full body exhilaration of learning you won something against the odds. That's what I'm here for. I live for the thrill; although, not the kind you two seem to be preparing for me in that briefcase."
Bruce and his partner had paused on putting together whatever it is they had in there and were looking at each other. "Well, Pete, I guess we got the wrong guy in for *cheating* then." He gave Pete a look. "We better tell intelligence to step it up and get it right next time. We're sorry for the confusion, sir. Just understand we take this type of offense very seriously, you know, cuz it takes away from the whole *thrill* and the integrity of the whole....experience." Bruce was stumbling over his words worse than the script said he would. "I suppose after we fill out some paper work, you'll be free to go... and uh...claim your winnings." Pete had already packed up the briefcase and was waiting at the door like an anxious dog. I didn't have to review the notes embedded in my mind to know he was going through every scenario wondering how they got it wrong. Of course all the details would match up. Of course I'd have the right bio signature. But they'd never find a way to get me for it. A *younger* me had already made sure of it. Plus, the thrill is what I was always chasing in the first place. That's why I play the games.
| 2022-10-09T17:34:05 | 2022-10-09T16:08:40 | 40 | 29 |
[WP] People do not get weaker and more frail as they age - they get stronger and stronger. "Dying of old age" is when groups of young people band together to kill off their elders before they become too strong to defeat.
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They call him the Ruined King.
Noone knows if he's real, not really. He's just another tale children tell to scare the old.
They say he was a powerful and just ruler at the dawn of time, and that he was the first to unite the hearts of men and form a society of untold power. Egypt, perhaps. Or maybe a society even older than recorded history.
He was the first, as the story goes, to reach an age previously unprecedented - 150 years old.
The world saw for the first time what someone of his age could do, and it struck fear into the hearts of the younger factions.
They quickly plotted to depose him, and acted just as fast. Who knew how much more powerful he would become if he was allowed to live?
They gathered a fine group of men to kill him, but they had underestimated the Ruined King. He was far more powerful than they could ever have imagined. They took his throne, but he escaped with his life intact. It was almost as if he had let them have it.
The Ruined King swore on that day that he would never allow a young one to grow too old. Greed and fear was too prevalent in the hearts of men, and they couldn't be trusted to accumulate the power of age that he had achieved.
Thereupon he fled into the mountains, never to be seen again. Or so it's thought.
But every once in awhile, some rogue dictator or powerful hermit just disappears. It's always publicly announced that they've gone into seclusion to accumulate their power, but where are they after all these years?
Their seclusion is generally accepted as truth, because surely there's no-one strong enough to kill these old warriors.
Unless there is.
When he comes for you, there will be no mountain to hide behind. Gather your minions in vain, and accept your fate, for no amount of pleading will move his heart.
He will destroy any obstacle, and take any life he deems unworthy. Such is the power of a God, to whom some pray for vengeance.
He is the Ruined King.
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"After 40 years of service, losing and regrowing limbs 7 times, and capturing 4 high class oldies, its finally time to kill me." Said a man who looked to be in his early 60's.
"Sad to say, but yes, your time has come, so we will make this your last mission, please die, and make this easy on us". Said a female voice.
"You know I always wondered why those old guys were so evil. Turns out most of them worked here, and they probably has the same situation come up. Most of them agreed, but some left, only to be killed later by us. It makes sense too, no one wants to die, atleast I know I don't, so sadly I won't be able to complete this mission."
"That truly is sad, but you have no choice, even if you leave, you'll only be chased dowluke the rest. Is that the life you want to live."
"At least I get to live, but don't worry I won't cause problems, might go to Jupiter, I heard your starting a new colony there."
The room stayed silent for a while after that, then footsteps could be heard down the hall.
"Well I don't feel like killing today, so I apologize about the wall." He then proceeds to jump and punch the ceiling of the room, causing a large hole to appear, letting the sunlight shine through.
Armed guards bust into the room right after this happens for the leader to say one word, "Fire!", filling the room with noise, and bright lights.
When the lasers hit the man thought, they bounced off into different directions, until he jumped out of the room fast enough for the air to push all of the guards down.
"Ciao", said the man before flying into the sky at an astonishing pace.
"F***, another one!", yelled the female voice before saying, "Back to your posts, and tell this to no one."
After sating this the guards left the room in a hurry, only the sound of footsteps could be heard.
| 2020-01-21T09:29:16 | 2020-01-21T07:32:18 | 188 | 40 |
[WP] We expected the Earthlings to react with outrage and despair when we killed their leaders, destroyed their economies, and took over their governments—but to our surprise they seemed almost relieved.
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"So long as we don't rob you boys or businesses we good?", the young black man said as he stared wide eyed at the creature sitting before him.
The aliens translator buzzed conveying the response, "Yes, as long as you leave us and the economy supporting us alone we don't care what you do". This was the fourth time today the being had been forced to answer this type of question and it wasn't even 6-6 (10:00 am in terrarians time) yet.
"Alright, sounds cool. Hey a, what about guns and drugs and shit, is all that still going to be illegal?"
"No,", the being inhaled deeply becoming more and more frustrated by the minute, "Listen as long as you don't screw up or help screw up something directly affecting us or your species as a whole we do not care. Marry your brother, buy an anti material rifle, do meth and heroin together, we don't care as long as we get our share of any profits you make from selling or reselling said items."
The young man's eyes widened as he realized just what the being was saying. "But what if someone keeps me from getting a job because, I'm well you know, black?", he questioned.
"That we will intervene in, if you were truly the best canidate applying for the job.", the creature began to sort through papers as he spoke, "I have a list here somewhere but basically if you don't tresspass,steal, or kill members of our species or ecosystem crucial organisms our government will simply not care".
"Ight, well I'll be back with more questions I'm sure", the young human before rising and heading for the door.
The alien gave a cordial invitation back as he left but the second the door slammed closed it groaned and pinched the bridge of what could only be described as it's nose. "Why the hell can't the humans accept that we don't care what the hell they do."
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For centuries we watched. We waited. We were letting our creations stumble through life like resilient toddlers. To create life in our image and have to abandon it. Heartbreaking in some ways.
A few decades ago we let our presence be known. Children grew with the knowledge there was more to life than a singularity. Still, we waited. Intervention was the last resort. We listened to the news reports that there would be no relenting to us. Mankind would kneel to nobody. Our creations blamed their makers and turned their backs.
Time continued on. A small blip in our lifetime. A vast canyon of time in our creations lifespan. Our predictions had come true, in the end. Their oceans were deserts. Their forests were cinders. Our creations were at war for the scraps of resources that remained.
It was time.
We landed on an Earth that was foreign to us. The planet had been squeezed dry. All that was left was a empty husk. Pity.
We needed to gain immediate control. These creatures were created similar to ourselves, and they were indeed a threat. They needed to be controlled and we didn’t want any losses on this mission. The leaders of each faction were immediately eliminated. Their broadcasting systems were jammed. With their weapons vaporized, their government gone, and their leaders dead. There was no time for rebellion. There was no retaliation.
They looked to us for leadership. We had the resources. We had the key to their survival. Their planet was no more than a hole in the ground that their bodies would rot in. Most of them gladly loaded onto our ships. Anyone who didn’t, was humanely euthanized. The cancer needed to be cut at the source. The time for free will was over.
We took them in. We taught them our ideals. We gave them hope. A new start. A new chance under our watchful eye and control.
| 2020-10-10T22:15:28 | 2020-10-10T21:58:03 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number.
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I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
If you enjoyed, consider subscribing to my [subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/ChocolateChipWp/)! Critiques and suggestions are appreciated as well!
|
"DAD!" I shouted, as I slammed the front door to the house behind me. I was in a state of near panic, frantically trying to take my dress shoes off, as I shouted for him again, "DAD!"
I heard noise from the living room, the springs of my Dad's favourite chair protesting like they always did, from age and use, as he stood and called back, "Trent? What's the matter?"
Relief washed over me at the sound of his voice, and I managed to finish ripping off my shoes. Unable to form any words, I simply rushed down the short hallway, to where he was coming into the other end, and threw my arms around him. The weight of my rail-thin 13-year-old frame barely moved him, and after a split-second of surprise, he wrapped his arms around me. Dad was the only one I could talk to about this. He was the only one who knew about my power, the only one I dared trust.
Despite being dripping with sweat, I was shivering, but after a couple of moments in the comfort of my father's arms, I was able to draw a ragged, deep breath and center myself. I eased off the death-grip I had around my Dad's ribs, and backed up a half-step. He moved his hands to my shoulders as I backed away, looking worriedly at my face.
"What's going on buddy?" He asked.
"I... ju... th...," I stumbled over my words, and took another calming breath. "I was working at the dance, for the golf club, like we had talked about, as the entry-man." The school loved their 'clubs', and loved using them for 'volunteers' for events like this. I honestly hadn't minded this one. It was far better than the Halloween clean-up crew 'volunteers', or the 'stack 200 chairs the morning after a meeting in the gym' jobs. I had even joked with Dad about this being good 'bouncer' training for when I was older.
I'd make a perfect bouncer, you see, because of my gift. I can read people's age, can see it just over people's heads, almost like a digital clock. I learned young not to talk about it, learned that it wasn't 'normal', but I was fine with that. Only 3 people in the world have ever known about it. Myself, Dad, and Mom while she was still alive.
Dad nodded for me to continue, as I searched for the right words, "We were set up at a table by the fire exit to the gym. I was checking school IDs, and Nick was stamping hands, and it was really cool, and it was a good time. Most of the kids from the school were already inside when Vincent Holst showed up with Daisy Redden."
Daisy Redden was *the* hottest, smartest, most sought-after girl in our Junior High. I had a crush on her, and my dad knew that, but *everyone* had a crush on her. The Holst family was fairly enigmatic in our town. Vincent, like his parents, didn't socialize much.
I had paused for a second as the memory of their arrival came back to me, fresh again. Dad prompted me, "Is that what has you upset, Trent? A date?"
I shook my head, freeing myself of the image, and refocused on my Dad's face, "Wha..? No, no, not that at all. Dad, Vincent was dropped off by his parents. They came over to the table to pay for the entry fee. That.... that's when I saw their numbers." I began to shake again slightly.
"Why does that have you so worked up?"
I tried to keep a steady voice, but it cracked and broke as my throat ran dry, "Because his Dad's number was Eight Hundred Ninety-two, and his Mom's was.... was... One thousand Two Hun..Hundred and Forty-Fi..Forty-Five."
I'm not sure entirely what convinced him of my sincerity that night, but he stood there and just looked at me for a while before he spoke.
"Pack a bag."
| 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-02T00:12:30 | 223 | 14 |
[WP] It turns out that humanity is the only mammalian sentient species in the entire galaxy. All of the other sentient species are insectoid. This makes the biology of humanity a fascinating topic for alien researchers.
|
"...Up to this point," Professor Crixxit continued, waving at the screen behind him showing the anatomical diagrams. "Humans have been, as we have seen, much like any other species reliant on chromosomal mixing of genetic material. Females are inseminated by males, whereupon eggs are fertilised and embryonic development begins."
He paused for effect. A confused hush settled over the lecture hall as he tapped his mandibles together in silent laughter.
"Now, though, we get *freaky."* He clicked his remote, and the screen shifted to a video feed. "As you can see, the eggs are usually limited in number. Development of more than one at a time is rare. Furthermore, it 'hatches' within 6 standard Earth days, the barely differentiated cells emerging."
A clawed limb shot up. "But how can a few cells possibly survive further development without their shell? Surely they'd dry and die immediately upon contact with the atmosphere?"
"Excellent question, and the answer is yes, they would." Crixxit clacked his mandibles together again. "Provided they were so *exposed*, that is! No, the cell mass travels to a specially adapted organ in the female, called a uterus, and implants itself in the uterine cell wall. There it will stay... For the next 40 weeks."
Professor Crixxit looked out over his students, gauging their reactions. He always loved to take in the mixed bafflement, curiosity, and horror he saw reflected in their postures and pheromone expulsions. He wasn't disappointed this time either.
"Now we'll see what happens next, as the female nourishes the young with her own body. Girls, spare a thought for your mammalian counterparts, and thank your lucky stars you're not one of them. Especially towards the end!"
The video continued. Crixxit didn't watch - he'd seen it hundreds of times. He watched his students, as they cringed, chittered with horror, and buzzed their wings with agitation. A young hive-princess ran out the door during the birthing scene, all four arms covering her mouth.
As it finished, a shaky voice from the front row asked "Is it over?"
Crixxit cackled, his wings buzzing. "Oh no, not by long shot. Now we discuss *lactation!"*
|
109 sprayed an agitant pheremone. "So you're saying their meat is on the outside."
107 absorbed the pheremone without genuflection. "There's a thin outer membrane."
109 enmeshed its neurology more deeply in the hivestream. "I'm reviewing sensory footage."
107 sprayed a humorous pheremone. "Prepare to be horrified."
109's optical clusters niccitated. "Oh my. They... waggle their face-meat at each other?"
107 continued spraying. "Yes. They call these 'facial expressions'. They wad various bits of their delicious face-meat into knots and shapes to evoke emotional expressions."
109's carapace was still arced somewhat backward as he drew from the hivestream. "This augments their pheremones?"
107 ceased its humorous pheremones and began emitting a small bit of subtle aggressor pheremones. "No. The meat-waggling is primary. They have no control over their pheremone emissions."
109 detached from the hivestream. "What? How do they effectively communicate their intent?"
107's emission of aggressor pheremones continued and he layered in solemnity. "They rely fully on language. Much of their language is inefficiently peppered with idioms and turns of phrase. Their data transmission bitrate is exceptionally low as a result."
109 simply stood, stock-still for a moment. It sprayed a small burst of recognition. "Their data transmissions. This explains why despite understanding their language, so little of what they say has any true meaning."
107 reduced the aggressor pheremones and only solemnity remained. "This is true. And much of what they communicate is false. They call it fiction. Many of the transmissions we have decoded do not depict real events."
109 rubbed its foreclaws together. "Such as the one known as Spider Man."
107 rubbed its foreclaws together. "Yes, such a hybrid could be very dangerous."
109 rubbed its foreclaws together. "Very dangerous indeed."
107 rubbed its foreclaws together. "Today we will find out."
109 rubbed its foreclaws together. "Today we will dine on delicious face meats."
107 rubbed its foreclaws together. "Indeed."
| 2021-04-05T03:40:36 | 2021-04-04T19:45:11 | 30 | 20 |
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