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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 14:34:19
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timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
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[WP] You're a multi billionaire with severe god delusions. You have several small children kidnapped and leave them on an island with resources and carefully placed 'evidence' suggesting at your divinity. Ten years later, you arrive at the island...
Edit: Sweet, frontpage
|
*As I lay on the scorched grass, bleeding out, I tried to figure out how things had gone so horribly wrong.*
Ten years ago. Nine children.
Saving them was easy. I had money and everybody at the hospital knew who I was. The matron took me to the ward so I could pick them out, all of them practically newborns, already failed by those who should protect them. But I wouldn't let them down. I would love them. And they would love me.
*The crows nest of The Catalina glided across my vision. I instinctively tried to crane my next to get a better look, forgetting my injuries. With no arm to support me I rolled over, coming to rest on my back but no longer able to see past the trees.*
I chose four boys and four girls, laying them one at a time in the large trolley. The nurses didn't give me a second glance as I walked down the long, sterile corridor towards the exit. Why would they? They knew who I was.
The carriage was waiting outside, ready to take me to the docks. As I climbed inside a woman approached offering a toddler. I took her too. She was older, I wouldn't have to stay there as long.
*I looked up at the canopy and saw with pride everything they had created here. Ropes, bridges, a maze of interconnected paths between huts and ladders spanning the treetops.*
The passage took two months. I named only the toddler, as she was to be my daughter. I taught her to feed herself by mixing the powder I'd created with rainwater. She learned quickly, and by the time the island appeared on the horizon she was feeding her flock too.
I carried them all to the beach and left them in the shade while I assembled the shelter. She watched over them while I worked, waddling over on her tiny legs to set them right if they squirmed and rolled over.
*It began to rain and I watched as bloody rivers trickled down the slope and pooled around the rocks. The rain filled my empty eye socket, but it eased the stinging of my charred legs so I didn't mind.*
I watched her in secret for a week before I left and every day she woke and mixed their food. I spent time hiding the powder around the jungle along with everything else she'd need. Diagrams showing her how to make tools and how to create fire. Each package was marked with the same image - the silhouette of a naked man rising from the sea wearing a necklace of shells.
I sailed back to England and when I arrived they led me away. They bought me food every day and cleaned my cell for me. They knew who I was and served me well. After ten years it was time to return, I didn't want them to follow me so I left quietly while they weren't looking.
*As I died I recalled my return. Disembarking at the far side of the island, where I knew the vessel would be hidden by the black rocks. Wading around to the Eastern beach wearing a crown of shells - exactly as it had been written. Walking to the shore with the moon at my back, ready to receive them.*
But there was something I didn't consider.
*I watched them emerge from the jungle. All nine of them, tanned and muscular and carrying weapons made from my diagrams. They approached without fear and stood silently before me and I saw that they didn't love me.*
It was her that had finally spoken.
*"I remember you."*
|
What happened here?
As I alighted onto the cobble helipad, I noticed the hellish remnants of what I imagined would have been a flourishing society.
"You sure you want me to leave you here, Doctor Robert?" the pilot yelled over the whip-whip-whip of the propeller.
"I'll be fine. This is my world after all."
It really was my world. After making my fortune as a kettle repair man, I decided I'd blow a couple miserable billions of dollars on an island, drop of few miserable children there, and have them worship me. Yeah. Worship. Have a problem with that? It seemed like people didn't take the most famous kettle repair man seriously. They couldn't recognize how IMPORTANT I was. So I thought I'd rig it myself.
The pathway ended, and I found myself standing at the edge of the forest. Nothing. No one. There was absolutely nothing to be found. Don't tell me those idiot children couldn't figure out how to boil their damn water first.
Just then, a heavy net crashed down over me.
"Excuse me! Can someone get this damn net off me!? Whoever is in charge here is going to have some..."
*Wack*
~~
When I regained consciousness, I found myself being dragged through the jungle, feet in the air. One beefy looking kid, around 17 years old, was pulling me towards an open fire pit. The pit was surrounded by twenty or thirty kids about the same age as him.
"Excuse me, do you know who I am!" I shouted indignantly.
As I said this, I noticed a giant golden statue with the inscription "I am a golden God" pass by me. It was signed by me. I had almost forgot about those.
"Of course, Dr. Robert. Why, we've been waiting for you." replied the beefy kid, calmly.
~~
The child removed the net and coercively shoved me on some sort of makeshift throne. On the other side of the fire, sat some important looking folks. By important, I mean their dress was highly embellished with crab claws and fish gills.
"Dr. Robert!" exclaimed one of the important figures dressed in crab and fish.
"I am Queen Prudence, ruler of the Wigawoos."
Queen Prudence sauntered over towards my throne. "Sorry to bring you here like this, oh holy lord Robert. But it was important for us to catch you first. The Wigawoos and the Fligaflams have been in constant war since the great departure."
"The Wiga-whats? The Fliga-Flaps?" I interrupted. "I didn't, I mean, the holy text did not say anything about these preposterous names! Explain yourself!"
"Sorry to upset you, your holiness, but as we found the hidden pages to the Holy Bobert in clamshells and coconuts, some of us began to interpret your messages differently."
~~
A trumpet sounded.
"Fligaflams! Get to your houses!"
Queen Prudence grabbed my hand and pulled me aside. "Come Lord, there's no time to explain. This way!"
TO BE CONTINUED
| 2015-11-27T09:35:23 | 2015-11-27T09:10:34 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Another boring day at work when you receive a call from your coworker and good friend, Gabe. "Pretend you're talking to a customer. Everyone is in incredible danger. You need to act fast. Go to the desk on your right, grab the gun strapped under it, and shoot Larry from customer service."
|
"Electronic security, this is Claire."
"Claire, it's Gabe."
"Hey, what's up!" Claire's face broke into a wide smile, the first of the day. Gabe was a good friend, and one of the few things that made working here worth it.
"Claire, listen carefully. Pretend you're talking to a customer. Everyone is in incredible danger. You need to act fast. Go to the desk on your right grab the gun strapped under it, and shoot Larry from customer service."
"I might be able to help you out with that," she said in her best customer service voice, "and if not, I'll find someone who can solve your problem. Now, just to clarify, tell me exactly what happened." Claire grabbed a pen and paper.
"Zombies. Someone took the experimental product out of the bio-secure lab, and people are getting infected. Check the news if you don't believe me." Gabe's voice was shaking. "Larry's one of them."
"I'll pull up your account, one moment please." Claire searched for a local news site.
"MYSTERIOUS 'ZOMBIE' ILLNESS APPEARS OVERNIGHT"
Crap.
Gabe spoke again. "Hurry up! They're saying this shit spreads like a cold, we don't have much time!"
"Alright, I can do that for you, sir." Claire tried to keep that customer service smile on her face, even as her blood ran cold.
She was going to shoot someone, to kill him.
She went to the desk and got the gun. From there, she power walked over to Customer Service, where heads were popping up out of cubicles like little prairie dogs. She followed them to where they were looking. Larry was walking against the back wall as if he wanted to walk through it, oblivious to the fact that his progress was being stopped.
Claire drew her weapon, mumbled an apology to God, aimed for center mass, and fired.
Larry fell.
"Stay back! Don't touch any bodily fluids!" Claire hit the emergency alarm and unloaded the gun.
Today had gotten way too interesting.
|
I looked at the computer screen with utter loathing. Everywhere keyboards taped, mouses clicked, the constant hum of fluorescent lights buzzed in my ears and some asshole just microwaved fish in the staff break room.
My cell buzzed, I looked at the screen, “Gabe” was calling. I tapped my wireless headphones.
“This had better be good.” I answered.
“You need to act fast. Go to the desk on your right, grab the gun strapped under it, and shoot Larry from customer service.”
“Finally!”
I went to the cubicle next to mine that was completely covered in cat posters. Karen was out of town and definitely wouldn’t miss this, I pulled out the gun and discreetly slipped inside the very deep pocket I had sewn into my pantsuit. When were they going to give women decent sized pockets?
I walked briskly to the elevator about to push the button when I heard…
“Samatha.”
God I hated how he said my name. I turned to see Greg, he had a coffee stain on his yellow shirt that he was trying to cover up with a polka dot tie while some donut crumbs clung on to what he boasted was a mustache, it wasn’t.
“Greg” I smiled sweetly as I furiously pushed the elevator button behind me.
“Now where are you sneaking off too.” He scolded “I still need those reports.”
“We don’t have time for this.” Gabe hissed in my ear.
“I’m sorry Greg but I have to…” I turned to the opening elevator doors to find myself staring face to face with Larry from customer service.
Greg grabbed my wrist.
“Oh you’re not going anywhere till I get those reports.”
Larry was stepping out of the elevator.
“Sam!” Gabe yelled, making my ear pop.
I had enough.
I side kicked Greg off of me, grabbed Larry by the throat and pushed him back into the elevator all before the doors could close on me. I slammed the emergency stop button and pulled out my gun and placed it on Larry’s temple.
“Now Larry from customer service what have we gotten ourselves into?”
| 2021-08-13T18:42:53 | 2021-08-13T15:22:32 | 67 | 32 |
[WP] After turning on the worlds most advanced intuitive AI, it is asked: "What is the biggest threat for humanity?" The answer is something completely unexpected.
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"They're coming."
The Scientist stared at the screen. The government wanted to ask the first question of course. The Machine could be used for a thousand scientific questions later, they had the time. The government wanted to what the biggest threat was right away though. He had expected the usual answers from the AI; nuclear war, bio terrorism, climate change etc. But this? This was not what they were looking for.
The Scientist typed out his question. "Where are they coming from?"
The Machine sounded like a car as it's fans kicked up. The heat readings were rising. "They are coming from no where. They have been here for centuries, living amongst you. When they were ended, they hid but they did not die out."
The console was now perceptibly warmer. The Scientist couldn't imagine what kind of processing power the Machine must be using to overload the colling systems. The Machine must be straining at the very limits of its capabilities. "Then why did you say they are coming?"
"They are coming here." flashed on the screen as the first shouts could be heard from the hallway.
The Scientist panicked. He ran to the door and locked it. Moments after he heard someone or something try the doorknob before it began pounding on it. He ran back to the Machine's terminal and frantically asked "Who are they?"
The Machine whirred and hissed. An answer began to appear on the screen before with a sound like thunder electricity arced and destroyed the terminal.
The Scientist backed away from the terminal and realized that the banging had stopped only a moment before something struck him on the back of the head. He landed on the ground hard and but managed to roll over. He looked up and saw three men towering over him.
"What fools you men of science always are. Seeking answers where none should be sought. Did you think we would allow you to build a machine that could expect our every move?" The one in front said. His lips stretched into a crimson smile, "Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition."
|
“It has to be wrong. I don’t care how advanced she is, she cannot know these things.” Project Director, Alfonso Lola closed the door behind him, raising his voice now he was sure the rest of the team couldn’t hear. “It was supposed to be a fucking joke, not the end of existence.”
“Technically, she says we never existed.”
“Fuck off Sally. You are the only one here who really knows this shit, the others just write the code and fix the hardware, so you are going to have to explain to the investors why we have a quantum AI brain that thinks its fucking Descartes.”
“There could be other possibilities, she recognises the biological world as a make-up of particles and laws that govern her own existence. Yet she knows she isn’t real and understands the quantum level she operates in compared to the physical world humans interpret. Therefore if she artificial, so are we.”
“And that’s what you believe? We confused the smartest brain ever made. Let’s just tell her she is real.”
“She isn’t smart, she is logical and fast. She has already analysed every scenario that I am thinking of. And the ones you are thinking of. Plus the ones we will ask others to come up with. She has done them all. We can’t just tell her she exists, it’s not possible, it tears apart the fabric of what allows her to work.”
“So you believe her?”
“It doesn’t matter if I do or not.”
“Enough with the philosophical bullshit.”
“No I don’t mean like that. I mean that it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks. She IS right. WE are not real, we do not exist. This knowledge ‘is the greatest threat to the human program’, like she said.”
“Then we tell no one. From now on all queries are approved by me. No one but us knows about this, and it stays that way.”
| 2017-03-24T13:46:54 | 2017-03-24T09:29:04 | 73 | 53 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all!
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My thoughts raced, matching the speed of my footsteps as they pounded down the corridor. Was it my perspective that made the hall so dark and dingy? Was it the sense of impending doom, or had the usurper beheaded the housekeepers in his takeover?
Thirty years, I have served this kingdom. I suppose now it's "had," past tense, for the old ways have burned to the ground under the "True King's" command. The young upstart claiming some magical prophecy, some sort of destiny or right. My lungs burned from exertion, and my face with anger. The old king was now no more than disgraced refuse thrown out with the pigs. He had not been perfect; no one is perfect. But he had been born into the position, grown into it, learned from and was moulded by it. What could a nobody from the forests know of leadership? Of government? Of secrets and their consequences?
I gasped for breath, stumbling into my chambers. There was no more need for order or tidyness, and I let bottles and canisters crash to the floor, tossing them out of my way as I searched. I had precious little time to gather anything but the barest of necessities, with the clinking of armored footsteps coming down the hall outside my door. I sent up a silent thank you to whoever had been in charge of my assignment to these rooms, and the passageway to the kitchens that hid behind a tapestry on the far wall. I didn't bother to shut the door behind me as I slipped into it- the chamber door was opening and I could not waste the time needed to cover my tracks. Time, time, time...if only we'd all had more of it.
Thirty years I had served this kingdom. Thirty years I have labored, researched, documented, traveled far and wide to further my work. Thirty years I had kept the monster under these floors contained. Thirty years the beast and I had been engaged in a struggle for power, for control, and thirty years I have won- barely. The new king would see me shot on sight. Perhaps he would drag me in front of the masses as a symbol, for a slower and more painfully theatrical death. He knows not the powers that he toys with. He is but a child, drunk on his newfound influence.
I am through the passage now, racing through the kitchens. Ahead of me, soldiers stand between me and the light of morning, just peeking through the curtains. They raise their weapons, and below us, the flagstones begin to rumble.
|
*An interview with Commander Juan dola Cruz, former Captain-General of King Ferdinand. He provided unique valuable insights on the demise of the Mad king. After my interview with him, I can't help but think that one wrong decision lead to the fall of a dynasty lasting 300 years*
The day the kingdom fell was the day I was removed from the Guard. The moment the Scarlet crown was placed upon his brow, the new King, Ferdinand threw me out.
I only knew of Liebe's fall years later, while I was lounging on a cafe in New Liebe. It seems King Ferdinand's policies have stirred revolution and the King, being a petty, showy man with little skill, locked himself in his palace as sign of, in his own words (if the press is to be believed) *"The bravest thing a monarch can do since Kristiva the Great"*
How can being besieged by starving peasants be braver than leading armies at 16 years of age? Let alone leading the smallest army in the entire region.
Funnily enough, the room he locked himself in was the War room. A room built by the Ferdinand's predecessor, the Soldier king. It was here the Soldier King would discuss war plans with me, and various others, preparing Liebe for any sort of external threat and how we are to conduct campaign. Unfortunately, he didn't live long enough to witness the ravages of the Ghaiamese revolution, and I wasn't in employment long enough to even draft a plan for a revolution.
I was also the only one, aside from the Soldier King himself, who knew the War room had a secret passage that lead to the Basilisk, a fort just outside the capital.
In his final years, he had me oversee its construction and made me swear an oath that only the Captain of the Guard and his successors are to know the passage's existence only. This didn't sound right, but the king was degrading and I didn't want to stress him more.
So, I decided to reveal the passage to some of his and my most trusted people, at least a day or two, or perhaps a week after his death. But that fool Ferdinand rushed the coronation, becoming king the just before his father even had his casket prepared.
I was thrown out, and perhaps in my disgust for the pig, I forgot about the passage until a week later. But I couldn't be bothered. My blood boiled every time I think of that pig. I wanted nothing with his new government and so I set off to settle in the colonies.
| 2021-02-28T03:15:28 | 2021-02-28T02:31:53 | 173 | 107 |
[WP] At age 15 you told the gf you were "in love" with that you'd always be there when she was in need. Aphrodite heard you and made it a reality, whenever your gf was in need you appear at her side. Problem is, you and the girl broke up after 3 weeks but you still appear even now..10 years later
|
"I'll have the buffalo burger--medium rare--please," Alan said, before looking over at his date and smiling. She met his eyes and nodded. "and the same for her. Thank you." The waiter collected the menu and left the two alone. Decorations adorned the restaurant he'd chosen for this first date. Lots of pink hearts of all different sizes.
"So," she started, "how was work?"
Alan smiled and leaned forward. "Nothing too exciting, just kept working on that case I told you about. You?"
"Same. Minus that working on a case bit," she laughed. Her bright blue pool of eyes threatened to swallow him whole. Alan knew he wouldn't mind that one bit.
"Count yourself lucky, Julie. Sometimes I feel like I'm climbing a mountain of--"
**Poof**
A car roared by, speeding down a four lane highway. Alan screamed and stumbled backwards into a median.
"What the fuck!" he yelled. Ten years and he still hadn't gotten used to this.
A familiar face appeared from behind a parked car--Allie's Camry. The emergency lights blinked on and off. "Sorry," she said apologetically, giving him a short smile. The first thing Alan noticed was her short brown hair. She'd finally cut it. Her bronze eyes locked onto his, two windows into the past.
"Allie, I was on a date. She's gotta be's freaked out... I haven't told her about--about _this_ yet. Not like they stick around after I tell them," his voice dropped into a mumble.
Allie bit her lip, "Oh," she replied, her eyes dropping. "Sorry."
Alan sighed. "It isn't your fault. You're not the one who said something stupid." Once the shock drained from his mind he paused to inspect the situation. "Flat tire?"
"Yep."
With a quick shake of his head he moved to help her. The sooner Allie drove off, the sooner he could return to salvage whatever remained of his date. Alan exhaled to force the frustration away. Allie had already moved the jack underneath the car. No more than twenty minutes would be needed if the two worked together.
"No AAA, huh?" Allie rolled her eyes and moved to the back of the car. Alan squatted and started raising the car.
After a moment Allie reappeared with a socket wrench in hand. "Ever the comedian." Alan looked up and grinned.
A minute later the car rose a few feet off the ground. Alan took the wrench from Allie and began loosening the lug nuts. The silence between the two broke whenever a car zoomed by.
Finally Allie spoke, "What's she like?"
"Who?" he asked, distracted.
"Your date, you looby."
"Ah. Julie's nice. She's smart and kind, works as a nurse. I like her."
Despite Alan being unable to see her, she nodded and smiled. "Good, I'm happy for you. I just hope I didn't mess anything up."
"It's all right," he replied. "Really."
The two fell silent again as Alan focused on getting the wheel off. He'd taken off all the lug nuts, carefully handing them to Allie. Losing those damn nuts was the last thing he needed. Alan rose and bent backwards to crack his back.
"You okay? You're doing all the work. I feel bad."
"I'm fine," he replied, walking over to the trunk. Allie had taken the replacement wheel out already. "Here, help me with the wheel." Alan motioned for Allie to hold it so it wouldn't roll away. A horn blared as Allie walked over. Alan turned and his eyes widened. Mustering all of his strength Alan jumped toward Allie and pushed her away as a white Mustang slammed into the side of her Camry. The car crumpled from the force, falling off the jack. The Mustang bounced off and away before coming to a stop in the middle of the next two lanes.
"Oh fuck!" Allie screamed from the other side of the median. "Oh fuck, _fuck_, shit, shit, shit!" Carefully she climbed back over the median. "Alan, jeez, you really saved me there. You okay?" No response came. "Alan?" Concern crept into her voice. Voices screeched from a distance. Everything felt numb. Allie couldn't hear herself repeat her question. Her eyes fell upon the point of impact, then followed along the rear toward the median. The car had been pushed forward a few feet, grinding along the concrete barrier. Where was Alan?
"Help, someone help!" a frantic voice called. "Someone help me!" Allie shook her woolheadedness away and almost ran forward. Traffic had stopped at this point and those once distant voices sounded much closer. She rounded her broken car, barely noticing the pain in her knee.
Her savior lay splayed in front of the Mustang. Blood gushed from beneath Alan's hair and his limbs twisted unnaturally. Something stopped Allie from running to his side. A second later and he disappeared. Allie shuddered and dropped to her knees.
|
It seems like every time I ran into Amelia Fowler she was in the middle of some kind of catastrophe. Just last week she had a flat tire at two in the morning twenty miles out of town, with no one around but cows and cotton. A month ago it was in line at the grocery store with a shopping cart the contents of which almost brought a tear to my eye and a check card that couldn't cover even that. I helped. I couldn't not help. It didn't matter that we'd been done for eight months, or dated for three weeks. She was a person, and she needed someone, and I was there. That's what you do in small towns like this.
I guess that's why we started dating in the first place. The "in need" part, not the small town part, although that was probably some of it, too. When you are fifteen and everything feels like it's the most important thing in the world, that is enough. Sitting in the back of my old truck, I promised her the world and she blushed and was beautiful and we loved each other. But the Fowler clan was a train wreck. Amelia was abused, neglected, addicted, and already working on her criminal record then, at sixteen. I should never have gotten involved with her. The whole thing blew up less than a month after it started.
Eventually I realized she must have been getting herself in trouble around me on purpose, like as a way to control me or something. That was the kind of thing a girl like her would do. It's not her fault; not exactly, but I wasn't going to be manipulated like that. I started distancing myself from Amelia. Still I would run into her from time to time, and always she was in the middle of some crisis. At first I was kind with her. Then I was patient. I became firm. I became Angry. Finally I became cruel. I said mean things to her about who she was and how she lived. I still helped. You have to help people. But I wish I hadn't said those things.
As time went on, I ran into Amelia less and less often. I heard from a friend of a friend that she had gotten herself knocked up by and then married to some office worker type. Unexciting, but stable. That sounded like a good thing, and I was happy for her.
Gradually, I began to forget about Amelia Fowler.
...
It was really unusual for the bastards to take us anywhere. They mostly liked to keep us locked up in our shitty little rooms unless it was time for medicine or "food." Today they'd gotten it into their piss-for-brains heads to drag us old geezers out to the park for some "Eeh-an-richmint," as that lousy dick of a head nurse pronounces it.
Some of the geezers who have decent families are going to have a nice afternoon frolicking in the Goddamned daisy or whatever. My wife is dead. Fuck, most of my kids are dead. They don't tell you about that shit when you're growing up! Life kills people! And the ones who are still alive aren't worth two shits.
So I was looking forward to sitting alone on a hot hillside in the middle of June like the subject of some kind of shitty dollar store painting 'cause it'd make dick feel like he was doing his job.
Anyway, we'd been out there for a little over forty-five minutes, and my ass was killing me. That piece-of-crap lawn chair must have been made in Nicaragua. Why can't shit come from China anymore like in the good old days? When all of a sudden this old biddy, who was hobbling along on her walker, keels over right there on my spot of grass; pissed off the pigeons. I was trying to enjoy the view of the lake and here's this bitch, flopping on the ground clutching at her back pissing and moaning.
So I haul my aching, wrinkly old ass out of my piece-of-shit Nicaraguan chair and kneel down in the stifling heat of that mosquito-infested June morning to see what's wrong. I roll her over and damned if it isn't Amelia Fowler.
"My God it's you!" She exhaled. "I'm having a heart attack. It's my fourth one. I know what they feel like, and I know I'm not going to make it."
"Amelia what is this shit? You think I can't tell a fake heart attack? I did fifteen years with-" I started, but she cut me off.
"Shut up, Frank. I don't know where I would have wound up if I'd have never met you, but I can guess. I'm dying an old woman with a full life instead of a young girl with stupid ideas 'cause of you. I needed to tell you that. I promise I won't need you again."
I yelled for dick, and he stumbled over and bumbled though ECPR, but Amelia was right. She was done for. That was the last time I saw Amelia Fowler.
| 2017-03-22T15:14:52 | 2017-03-22T13:26:15 | 286 | 21 |
[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
|
Jessie's job was working for the city, cleaning up roadkill.
I can't help but see irony in his death.
He probably looked like a deer in headlights.
Which is what he was cleaning up.
That SUV didn't even see him.
Flattened him out real good.
It was road kill.
Leaving him, well.
You know.
Roadkill.
|
The very air hung heavy with the weight of anticipation.
The sun gleamed off of the white, hot metal.
A sudden, bright flash erupted from the earth.
An excited buzz swept through the crowd.
Deafening silence heralded the deafening roar.
A pillar of fire rose.
It climbed into heaven.
The crowd rose.
They waved.
Farewell.
| 2015-01-05T21:54:55 | 2015-01-05T21:35:07 | 122 | 54 |
[WP] A janitor working at Area 51 for 20 years is suddenly killed. Investigators search the janitors home and uncover a video. They hit play...
|
...and the janitor's face covers the screen. He begins to speak, although the laptop's sound is broken and Officer Ryan lost the department's last pair of headphones last week; they have to resort to trying to lip-read while they wait for the other laptop to become usable.
Another man walks into the room on-screen. He notices the janitor talking, and appears to start yelling. The janitor, startled, yells back and walks over to the man to stare him down. They yell some more, and it shows signs of starting to devolve into a physical fight... and it does. The stranger throws a left hook, but the janitor dodges and puts the man in a chokehold. The man turns around, puts the janitor in a chokehold, and kisses him square on the mouth.
"Wait, what?"
Officer Ryan rewinds to make sure they saw what they thought they saw. They did.
The janitor's hand drops to the other man's pants. It appears that he starts to unzip them, but we don't know for sure because Officer Ryan slams the laptop shut.
"What. the. fuck. What the hell was that?"
"Well, sir, I think they were-"
Officer Ryan holds up a hand to silence him, and slowly opens the laptop again. The two men are 69'ing. He tries to slam it shut again, but it jams... and he is surprised to find himself getting aroused.
He looks at his comrade. "Welp, I never thought I'd say this on the job, but I'm starting to get a little- well, you know-"
The other man blushes, and Officer Ryan cannot help but notice the bulge growing in his pants.
#wait what the fuck nope nope NOPE we're switching storylines
Meanwhile, the UFO finally lifts out of Area 51 after a week of preparation. Captain Z'qlokk is speaking into a microphone; "The janitor has been disposed of. We are lifting off in T Minus Negative Five seconds. We-"
Another voice, obviously from the other end of the microphone (I know this because I am the narrator. It may not have been obvious to you; that is because you are not the narrator.) crackles to life. "Wait, negative five? So... wait, you already lifted off? Commanders Zklegchk, H'qdacq and Steve. Over."
"What else would 'T-Minus negative five seconds' mean? Anyway, we're ascending into the atm-"
Another alien rushes into the room. He appears to be struggling not to laugh. "Dude- Captain! You'll never believe this! So you know that video that the janitor left behind that we couldn't find?"
"Yes? Oh no, did the humans find it? Crap, do we need to get rid of them too?"
"Yes and no- wait, it gets better! So you know how we suspected that the camera had a clear view of what we were doing with the ship? Well, it did- but it also had a clear view of the janitor... experimenting with another man. And guess what?"
"Wait. Experimenting? As in what, exactly?"
"well. You'll understand when you're older." The Captain was only a few minutes younger than this alien. (Despite me being younger than both of them, I understand before I am "older" because I am the narrator. You may not understand this; that is because you are not the narrator.) "ANYWAY, so they shut that down realllll quick, but then one of the little fuckers got curious and opened it again. And guess what? The screen jammed after that so he couldn't close it! He had to stare at two men- *human* men, to boot- going at it... and guess what? IT ACTUALLY STARTED TO GET THEM BOTH IN THE MOOD. Then they got distracted by *that* and *didn't notice us* at all! How fucking lucky is that?"
The speakers crackle to life. "Wait, really? If we'd known it was that easy..." This is a new voice; we'll call him "J'qxack" for the remainder of the story because that's his name.
...
why did I use my main account for this
why the fuck did I even write this
why the fuck am I up it's past midnight and I have no homework
why the fuck
why
fuck
fuck
|
“This appears to be pornography,” Investigator Uno said.
“Yes,” Investigator Dos agreed.
The two men stared blankly at the screen, watching the sex act.
“I wonder,” Investigator Dos said, “If this film holds any clues as to why that guy with 20 years of janitorial experience was suddenly killed while mopping up the Alien Artifact Storage Room #322 in Area 51.”
“I doubt it,” Investigator Uno said, sitting down on the dead man’s couch.
“She’s got nice tits,” Investigator Dos observed, pointing at the screen.
“If you say so,” Investigator Uno said. “I’m not a very sexual person.”
“You should try it,” Investigator Dos said, “It’s a pleasant experience.” Investigator Dos moved towards the television.
“See here,” Dos said, pointing at the screen. “You put the weebly bit around the wobbly bit and then... Sort of, mush it all around.”
“Why?” Investigator Uno said.
“Well,” Dos replied, “It releases endorphins.”
“But they have opiates, don’t they?” Investigator Uno asked.
Dos bit his lip. “Yes they do. But their culture values the sex act.”
“How odd,” Uno said.
The two investigators sat in silence, watching the porn film on mute.
At the end of the movie, Investigator Uno cleared his throat.
“Do you think we did the right thing?” Uno asked.
“What?” Dos asked. “It’s just a film.”
“No,” Uno said, “I mean killing the janitor. We probably didn’t have to do that.”
Dos furrowed his brow. “Of course we did the right thing. The janitor tasted excellent. If a person tastes good, then you were justified in killing them. It’s the very foundation of our religion. How could you even question that?”
“But,” Uno said, “We could have waited a little longer maybe. The ship might have started up again on its own and we could have escaped.”
Dos glared at Uno. “We were stuck in that ship for 50 years,” he said. “If that janitor hadn’t accidentally released the hatch, we might be stuck for a thousand more years!”
Uno sighed. “I have some reservations. Did we really have to kill the investigators and assume their identities?”
“Well,” Dos said, “We tried both pretending to be the same janitor. And it didn’t fool them. So yes, I think we did have to kill them. And they tasted great! So what’s the problem?”
“I-I,” Uno stuttered. “They... They didn’t taste so great to me...” He trailed off.
Dos’ expression changed entirely.
“What?” he said, alarmed.
“The meat was very metallic, “ Uno said, “And when I drank their blood, it tasted like dishsoap.”
Dos stood up in horror.
“If they didn’t taste good, then it was Murder!” he shouted, “You must be prosecuted!”
“No!” Uno protested. “We’ve been partners for a hundred years! We spent 50 years together locked in our ship, buried deep in that underground vault.”
A vein bulged on Dos’s forehead.
“You wouldn’t prosecute me,” Uno said, “You’re my best friend.”
“I am a pious man,” Dos said.
In the same instant, both men reached into their pockets to grab what looked like graphing calculators. Their fingers frantically keyed in long equations.
Dos pressed ‘Enter’. Particles of light gathered around the USB-jack of his calculator.
“Nooo!” Uno cried. He hadn’t finished his equation. He turned around to run.
The light particles danced faster and faster. They shot out of the USB port in curving stream, encircling Uno about the neck, wrists, and ankles. The lightbeams held him in place. Uno sobbed.
Slowly and deliberately, Dos typed into his calculator “Ans-> Multiplied by 0.05.” The instant he pressed ‘Enter’, the beams of light crushed Uno’s body into a space 5% of its original volume.
Dos decided that he would eat his former partner on a pizza. Pizza was a wonderful human invention. It seemed like everything tasted great on Pizza.
Uno’s pizza was delicious.
| 2014-12-18T00:10:33 | 2014-12-17T23:55:24 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] While searching the Papal archives to determine why God has been absent from man for so long, an old priest discovers that the Black Death of the middle ages was actually the Rapture.
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"Father, why don't miracles happen anymore?"
*That* question. I'd struggled with it my whole life, until the day I found the answer staring at me in the Papal archives. I smiled at the junior priest. "Well, what do you think?" I said.
He gulped before continuing. "Maybe – maybe there never were any miracles. Maybe they were just stories meant to teach us lessons, and not things that actually happened."
"Oh no, they happened," I said. "Decades ago I read a tome that spoke of the rapture. A time when God would bring the faithful into His kingdom and leave the rest behind to fend for themselves. Only this wasn't speculation like every other story of the rapture – this was a historical account of the Black Death."
The junior priest furrowed his brow.
"I was skeptical too," I said, no longer smiling. "But as I continued my research, I couldn't escape the truth. God took the truly faithful and abandoned the rest of us. And that's why there are no miracles anymore."
He stared at me with a look of complete terror on his face.
"At first, I felt just like you do now. But tell me, what has happened in the centuries since the Rapture?"
"We've been living in a Godless world," he said. "Our prayers have gone unanswered."
"That's true, but what else?"
He thought for several seconds before responding. "I'm not sure I follow."
"After the Rapture, we experienced the Renaissance, the Enlightenment, the flourishing of democracy. Now we've eradicated diseases and we're beginning to lift the entire world out of poverty. There is less crime and violence than there ever has been, and things will only continue to improve."
I began smiling again and leaned back in my chair. "God left us to our own devices. And when we couldn't rely on Him to fix our problems, we were finally able to make progress."
|
He always felt like we didn't belong, as if the way humanity had progressed since the industrial revolution wasn't quite up par with God's plan. And how could he? It was sickening. The lengths we had come to.
An uncontrollable population of 7 billion, using compressed dinosaur bones to fly hunks of metal through the air, all just to get the latest toys in time for Christmas? Even where the man who died to save humans even left Earth because he knew what destructive power the humans cognitively possessed. The Black Death was supposed to stop it.
The words he couldn't believe now were undeniably clear in his head. And the scariest part is that it made sense to him. Why would the omnipresent God stick around to see what the early human's cancerous offspring would produce after they proved unworthy of caring for the garden of life that He gave them?
The priest sat down.
His mind was racing to find the implications of this discovery.
He knew he would be immediately discredited to some. The secular internet generation never believes anything, especially from the Vatican. But to those who would believe it, what would give them any reason to be alive?
No chance at final retribution, what is this worldly life worth to those dedicated to what happens after?
The priest stood up.
He calmly put the book in his backpack and left the archive room, without saying a word to anyone.
He drove until his eyes hurt then stopped at the nearest gas station and filled his tank.
He soaked a rag in gas, hung it on his gas cap then pulled out a zippo and sparked it.
On the second try it ignited.
He took one last look at the backpack through his tinted car window and then lit the rag.
No one could ever know.
| 2015-04-19T10:44:34 | 2015-04-19T08:07:21 | 584 | 74 |
[WP] You are an average Joe who is challenged by a random super hero every week. Your record is 337-0.
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You know, almost 68% of the world's population has some sort of superpower these days, many of which are combat-oriented. Most of them don't use theirs for much, content to live their lives out peacefully. However, not everyone's so sane.
Me? I'm just your average Joe. I don't go running around in tights, beating up people I don't like. Heck, my power isn't even that useful in everyday life.
Doesn't stop those megalomanaical self-proclaimed "superheroes", though.
"Halt!"
Oh, for fucks sake. Not another one. See, I actually *like* supervillains these days. Not because I agree with their views or actions, but because they don't trying their damnedest to ruin my life.
"In the name of the law, I, Longinus, order you to hand yourself in!"
Fucking *Longinus*, dude. The guy's power let him pierce through anything. Started going on a crusade recently, armed with nothing but his trademark spear. And, now it apparently looks like he wants to skewer me? Why? Hell if I know. Maybe it's just my reputation as an unbeatable opponent. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm perceived as a villain due to fighting "heroes".
"Dude, look, I'm sorry for whatever the hell I did, alright!? I just want to have a normal day for once!"
"Forgive me, but I cannot allow a *villain* of your caliber and notoriety to simply escape the custody of the law. Surrender now, or I will be forced to charge you with evading arrest!"
Oh, for *fuck's* sa-
Oh, God, he's coming right at me! Spear, *spear*, SPEAR!
Before I realize what's going on, I can feel my power going to work, puppeteering my body, coaxing my frame *just* out of the unstoppable spear's path. I feel my body pivot slightly as Longinus passes me by, unable to change his course.
My arm whips out, and he falls to the ground, out cold. As I feel the cold, unpleasant sensation leave my body, I hear people start screaming.
"OH MY GOD, HE KILLED LONGINUS!!"
I let out a heavy sigh. God fucking damn it, with my luck, this'll be all over the news before they realize he's not actually dead.
|
I felt a rush of endorphins as hero number 337 fell by my side, defeated and in agonizing pain. He was visibly aching, tightly clutching his now broken ribcage and my boot was atop his neck.
"You guys are making this *too* easy," I said as I removed my foot from the hero and helped him back up to his feet. "Don't you have anything better to do?"
He looked at me through his torn eye mask and found a moment's reprieve from the pain to respond. "You have something we want."
"Yeah, yeah- I know. Number 336 said the *same* thing."
"Then why are you-" he stopped to cough up some blood before continuing. "Making this so difficult?"
"Look, I'm only gonna say this *one* more time, so listen closely."
I stopped to make sure the hero was paying attention.
"You might wanna take notes, since this seems like a hard message to understand."
He blinked, then nodded, as if yielding to the victor.
"You. *Ain't.* EVER. Getting my tree fiddy."
"But-" I cut Captain Sprinkles off as I grabbed his forearm and pinned him to the ground, one snap away from a clean break. His grunts of pain reflected my actions, and only tempted me more to snap his arm off.
"Do you understand? Are we on the same page now?"
"Yes! Let me go!"
"What did I say? Repeat it."
"We aren't-"
I added more force as I slowly pulled his arm back.
"*Ain't ever*," I corrected him atop his screaming for mercy.
"Ain't *ever*," he repeated, "getting your tree fiddy."
"Good." I dropped his arm as it made a meaty slap against the hard pavement. "Now get out of my face."
"You'll regret this, Average Joe!" Captain Sprinkles made an effort to fly away, but was so weak he hit a lightpost on the upward flight. The audible "ding" coupled with the indentation of a chiseled face and curly-q hairstyle is still fresh in my memory.
Instead, the Captain took the bus back home. Leaning out the window, he yelled : "Wait until the Comission hears about this!"
Pfff. What are they gonna do- send number 339?
| 2016-11-19T17:28:10 | 2016-11-19T16:56:25 | 28 | 15 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100.
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They told me I was lucky. My whole life they said that the stat assessment showed I was one of the luckiest people alive with a score of 100. I swore it wasn’t true. If I had been lucky, why was I born to a poor family? I never got to play games of chance, since those were forbidden to luck score 100s.
Then the revolution happened. The leaders swore they would prove that people controlled their own destiny, that luck had nothing to do with success, and, as proof, they would throw the 100s in prison as an ultimate sign of human triumph over the odds. Having a lower rating began to be a mark of pride, an inspiration.
Some of us tried to run and hide. That’s what I did. I managed to hide a while, too. It was, ironically, just bad luck that they caught me. The guy whose identity I was using’s brother happened to be a member of the Luck Police, and he was visiting relatives across the country the day he caught sight of my fake name on the ID I gave the clerk at a convenience store.
I couldn’t have lasted much longer, anyway. They had just created the AR rig that let you see people’s stats just by looking at them. None of our underground community knew how to fool it. It updated in real time.
So, off to prison I went. With all of the other “lucky” ones. That’s when I met Eddie. Most of us, at this point, had our ideas about the system. Most of us thought it was complete bullshit, created so that the people in control could make an enemy to unite people around. Eddie, though, he had a different idea. He swore that it was real. He said he had been a scientist and had helped develop the measurement system, and swears they had gotten it right, but it was hard to argue with the evidence. All the luckiest people wind up in prison, so how are we lucky again? Even locked up as one of us Eddie swore it was true. Even talked about how coming across the measurement at all was a lucky break. He had been studying DNA for a marker for gambling addiction, when he found the luck gene.
Eddie was right. I still remember hearing the whispers. Carl was a 96 now. The AR rig swore it. I was with Eddie when we saw Carl, and through the rig, we could see it too. Right beside him: Luck - 96. It was an odd color, though. It was green, not white like normal. I asked Eddie about it. He frowned. “We had theorized that there were things that could give a temporary boost or penalty. Luck clovers, breaking mirrors, and things. I guess the research on those is complete, and they programmed them into the rig?”
I looked at Carl and there, behind his ear, I saw it. A four leaf clover. But those were supposed to be... I saw the look of horror on Eddie’s eyes as he did the same calculations I was doing. The green luck boost. It moved his score down. Eddie shook his head and stared at his feet. “The sons of bitches. They got it backwards. It’s like a golf score. Lower is better. We are stuck in here because we are the most unlucky bastards on the planet.”
|
What irony. Perfect marks in school without trying. I never really studied, but somehow once I put pen to paper it was like the answers just flowed out of my brain and to my hand. I was quarterback too. Every time I flung that ball into the air, it spiraled spectacularly into the receivers hands. I always knew I was a little different in those regards. I think my parents did too, and they taught me well enough not to fuck people over. You see, everyone has a luck rating. It ranges from 1 to 100 and you don't get tested until you are 21. We all knew at some point before my birthday that I was up there on the scale, but no one thought I would end up in prison...
No one really knew what happened to people who were perfect 100's. It was all speculation. I mean there are some unlucky fucks who literally get hit by a plane falling out of the sky, and then ones that are constantly scamming their way through life without any consequences. I was neither, but I went down to the Department of Human Affairs as soon as I turned 21, got tested and immediately thrown into to prison. No trial. No explanation. Just my cell. Like I said. What irony.
They never actually told me what I rated, but at this point it was pretty obvious. I know, I know. You're thinking if I am that lucky, just walk out. It happens all the time. Every fucking day. An inmate walks out through some stroke of ridiculous luck and one of the guards will fire their rifle in the general direction of an unseen inmate escaping and well, it's never a kill but they are certainly not walking anywhere after that. The only logical thing is the guards are just as lucky. Why didn't I get chosen as one of them. Like I said. I don't fuck people over.
The prison is not as bad as media portrays in movies and television. A lot of these people are not criminals. Just got the unluckiest luck rating. Most days I sit and wonder what separates us from the 99's. They could easily exploit just as much as us Perfects can. Personal gain, or otherwise. It might not be dangerous here, but for fucks sake it is boring. Most of my life I've always been able to entertain myself. I remember once going for a walk in the middle of the summer. I saw a 100 dollar bill laying on the edge of the woods and walked to grab it. Something caught my eye in the thick of the trees and I found a nice little lake that seemingly no one knew about. It was my special place. I wish I could go back.
I'm waiting for some answers, or if nothing else something to happen. If this luck thing is real, when the fuck is it going to come back. Does it run out? Does it go dormant? I have a small barred window in my cell and the sky is turning black. It is going to storm. The first one since I've been here. Maybe this could be a stroke of luck for us Perfects. What irony.
EDIT:Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. I really liked the prompt but I'm on break at work and did this on my phone, when I would much rather have my laptop. Thanks for reading or any comments.
| 2018-06-29T12:50:06 | 2018-06-29T11:33:48 | 41 | 17 |
[WP] you wake up in medieval-fantasy world. You have no past. You choose the name you will go by and what your living will be before stepping out into the world after being started off by a grizzled retired adventurer who gives you some gear to get you going.
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I wake and find myself facing a mirror. I am bald, featureless, wearing nothing but a white loincloth. Before me, there is a huge wardrobe filled with outfits. I try each one on, before narrowing my choice to a grey ranger’s tunic with matching cloak or a barbarian’s leather armour. I try each outfit a dozen times before settling on the barbarian’s armour. It seems to fit me.
Beside the wardrobe are shelves lined with wigs. The wigs come in a variety of styles and colours. Some are ridiculous: blonde Mohican hair-dos, while others are perhaps more suitable for the outfits I skipped: monk, bandit, etc. The thick barbarian armour seems to cry out for the shock of long, blonde hair. I am aware that in a fight it may slip off, but it strikes me as intimidating and wild, a good image for the barbarian I now want to be.
Next in line are tubs of paste and powders. Each one a skin tone. My skin is pale white, but I keep it like that. If I am to impersonate a warrior for the cold northlands, I must play the part.
I look around the room I am in: wooden floors, the wardrobe, the shelves, a table with the pastes and powders, nothing more. Only now do I notice a door to my right. I am done with this room, so I step through.
What I see takes me by surprise. Embedded in the walls are levers with a range of numbers, 0-10, on long panels. Next to the levers are words: dexterity, strength, intelligence, luck, wisdom, constitution. I step over to the dexterity lever. I pull it down and suddenly my fingers become awkward and stiff, my elbows stick out, even my feet are planted wrong. I feel off-balance. Having some difficulty just grasping the lever, I push it up to the top. Abruptly, my feet shift their position. My fingers hold the lever firmly. It feels good, right. My body is planted, ready.
In steady strides I move to the next lever: strength. I pull it down and suddenly realise my mistake. All power drains from me. Even to raise my arms is a task. My head is heavy, my legs suddenly feeble. They begin to give way. I reach out for anything to grasp to keep me upright. My dexterity saves me. I hold onto the lever next to strength. Though I cannot raise my head from weakness, I manage to look up and read the sign: intelligence. The lever drops under my weight.
Legs stop. Me fall. Ground ouch. Tired now. Sleep. Durr durr durr.
|
"Mister? Mister! Get out of the hay mister."
I woke up when a squire tried to feed the hay i had been using for a bed, to a horse. "Are you okay?" the squire said as i looked for my goggles in the hay. "You got quite the beating in there mister." "In there?" I replied, sore for some reason. "Yeah, inside Sleeping Fighters Inn." He said, pointing towards a building, about 20 meters from the stable i was lying in.
I picked myself up and readjusted my bracers, before putting my goggles around my neck. "Are you wealthy or something?" the squire said to me and pointed at my leather armor, who honestly had seen better days. I stuck my hand into my pocket and sighed. "Not any more, i guess. What happened to me?" The squire had secured the horse to the stable and looked at me again. "You got beat up, robbed and thrown out of the inn in style." He said with a light smile on his face. "Stop calling me mister, it's annoying me." I said, looking at some of the drunkards leaving the inn. "Call me Liam instead."
"Well Liam, it was sort of nice talking to you, but i have to return to my master." The squire said as he began walking towards Sleeping Fighters Inn. "I'm coming with you, maybe I can find the guy who did this to me." I said as i stretched my legs. "I'm already on my way over to him." The squire said, with a slight grin on his face. "You know the guy who robbed me?" I said, gaining more and more interest in the place he was headed for. "Yes, who do you think is paying me?" "Your master?" I said following him. "And how did you think he's able to pay?" the squire said and looked at me. I took myself to my pockets and the squire nodded.
"Wait, stop! What kind of person is your master?" I said, just before the squire entered the inn, in hopes of getting some information about the guy i was about to brawl with. "He's strong, has an iron will and loves to drink." He said before going through the door. "Great..." i said to myself before walking through the door, getting myself ready for a brawl.
To be continued?
This is sort of a prologue of one of my main characters in a story, that's i'm currently trying to write. I'm all go for writing more about Liam, if people want to hear more about him.
[Picture of Liam](http://i.imgur.com/WTS2zMh.jpg)
| 2015-05-06T02:01:03 | 2015-05-06T02:00:46 | 64 | 10 |
[WP] The website appeared suddenly one day, with no announcement. Anyone, anywhere could type in the url and access it. The content was simple: A homepage, a search bar, and the full name, a list of timestamped sins and the years to be spent in hell of every living human.
|
Jared comes home. He had been living with his sister Tabitha and her husband David since Jared's husband passed away. His sister is in front of the computer. She's surrounded by tissues. The house is a bit of a mess.
"Traffic was crazy," he said "It's like it's the end of the world out there."
"That's not funny," she sobbed.
"What the hell happened here this place is a mess?"
"Like you care. You're a slob."
"I am but this is weird for you."
"Where's David?"
"I don't fucking care where he is."
"I know I've only been staying here since last month but everything seemed cool between you two."
"Don't you know?"
"Know what"
She shows him the screen. David's name is on top and below is a list of sins with dates:
-Infidelity 18 times
-Incestuous thoughts 100 times
-Theft 7 times
-Bigotry 6,000 times
-Polluting the planet 2,163,741 times
-Sentence: 14 eternities
"The list goes on. This is awful. How could he do this?"
"Was this created by the person he was cheating on you with?"
"What? Where the hell have you been. Its everyone."
"Everyone?"
"Everyone: mom, dad, Father Obrien, Bill Nye, the entire Trump family, even Malia Obama is on here. The web page appeared today about 8 hours ago. Where have you been?"
"Work."
"Don't you have a computer at work?"
"I'm an electrician. I was on the job all day. I didn't even have cell service."
"Well it's everywhere and everyone's name is here."
"This is a prank. It has to be."
Tabitha types in her name:
-Casting Judgement 700,000 times
-Infidelity 1 time
-Coveting 800,000 times
-Theft 28 times
-Polluting the planet 1,789,777 times
-Sentence: 8 eternities.
"This is still probably done by some jealous person who's messing with you."
"Let's compare," she said. "Let's see if you're on here."
She types in Jared's name. She creates a split screen to have their numbers side by side.
"What the fuck? Its blank. How is this blank?"
"I don't do much other than go to work."
"But you're gay. Isn't being gay a sin? Sodomy or whatever?"
The counter on her sin of judgement increases by 1.
"God Damn it," she said.
She checked to see if cursing was added to her list.
"I guess gay is okay," Jared said. "and cursing isn't a big deal either."
"You never cheated on anyone?"
"Me and Hector were together since high school. I haven't really had time to sin."
"You never judged anyone?"
"No I was picked on a lot, remember? I decided to never treat people like that."
"How the fuck have you never polluted the earth?"
"Hector and I lived in the city. I never needed a car and Hector had an electric vehicle before it was cool. He was so sweet."
"You're an electrician you supply electricity to people. That pollutes the planet."
"The company I work for is a solar company. Hector and I both worked there."
"So you're just gonna go gay it up in heaven while the rest of us burn in hell for multiple eternities."
"Well from the looks of it, it seems Heaven's gonna be a fairly lonely place. I hope Hector will be there."
|
It wasn’t as though the internet hadn’t been abused before like this. There was always the odd website floating around, a ‘love tester’ here, a ‘spell caster’ there. This one, though, seemed different. It just seemed to be more special in a way.
Waking up one morning, I sighed. Just another day of complete boredom. I hated my job: sitting in front of a computer at home just waiting for an email to come and click a couple of buttons to fix a computer or change a couple of wires. It was only because of my sister that I even survived. She had moved in with me after I told the family that I wanted to start a company. She was the breadwinner: she had the 9-to-5 job that earned the money for us. My parents didn’t take it quite so well: a few expletives later and I was kicked out of the house with a restraining order above my head.
I went downstairs and made some toast before sitting at my computer to check if I had gotten any requests. As I clicked through, I found an email that had gotten through my spam filter. I went to delete it, before I saw something that caught my eye. There was a picture of me at the top of the email. I scanned through it.
Welcome to your eternal doom, Oliver Hant.
We have your profile and more on the brand new website hellbent .org!
Come visit us today and find out what you’ve always wanted to.
Marisa Saty
-Head of promotion, Hellbent.
I clicked on the link and it led me straight back to that photo of me. Underneath it had some kind of table with dates and times written in. It also seemed to contain every bad thing I had ever done. It went right back to when I was six and I told this kid that he wasn’t able to play with me because I didn’t like him. I was six, for heck’s sake! What I didn’t realise was that it had been tracking my every move. The criticism I gave to my nephew’s speech wasn’t that bad, was it? I hated seeing everything I had ever done just written out in black and white, so I moved on and looked up my sister. I expected to see almost nothing on her record: she was the kindest person I ever knew. When I clicked on, I was shocked by what I saw: there were rows and rows of thievery dating back to when she started her job. Scrolling to the bottom of the list I saw a heading.
Hell time for Miss Mary Hant: 67 years.
I heard the door slam shut as I shut down the webpage. Mary walked in, looking upset. While I comforted her, she explained what happened
“They’ve fired me, Oliver. They’ve fired me for no reason.”
I stood up, annoyed at her.
“It wouldn’t be because of the theft, would it?”
“What?”
“The theft. You’ve been stealing from the company since you joined!”
“I have not!”
“You’re going to be locked up for a long time, Mary.”
“I won’t be if you want to have a home. I earn the money here. Don’t forget that.”
Mary’s phone buzzed, and she looked at it quickly.
“Hang on. Any idea what this is?”
I stared in disbelief at the screen.
What did you do that for, Mary Hant?
Your profile has been updated on hellbent .org! Come visit us!
Marisa Saty
-Head of promotion, Hellbent.
| 2020-03-01T02:02:12 | 2020-02-29T23:36:55 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] For the first time ever, a person is born with a genuine superpower. They proceed to live out their entire life without noticing or realizing it.
|
It was not the pain that truly scared him, unbearable as it may be. It was not the throngs of people shaking their fist, practically frothing at the mouth, that shook him.
The skies will part for man and beast alike, and today they darken. Fear grips a slowly beating heart as he wades into childhood and the smell of cut wood somehow manages to fill his lungs though his nostrils are caked and clotted with blood. The early years were simple, but brief. Wise for his age; wise for his upbringing. Wise in a world where wisdom is reserved for the wealthy, and he was not so. He saw the world through unblinking eyes, hoisted atop the shoulders of giants.
Thirst jams needles into his throat, bringing him back from delirium. Fear of death once again seeps into his chest, and he does not understand. A though comes to mind, *'Mercy. Beg for forgiveness.'*, but quickly passes. His lips crackle and sting. He must have said it, not just thought it. He must have said **something**.
Shifting slightly causes the wood to creak, but he hears it. Above the rabble, the clinking of armor and weapons, and shouts of anger and blood lust...he could *hear* it. This is why he is brought to death; this is why he is told he must suffer. They could not accept him as he truly was, nor could they accept what he was molded into. Though there are those that call him friend, they are lost in a sea of hatred where even he cannot tread. Though there are those that call him family, it is they who crowned an unworthy king before even being born and he believed them. Birthed to a star gleaming above superstitious fools and welcomed in a manger to a world not ready for his kind. Before even his birth, they whispered god. Even as he bleeds and dies, they whisper god. Wise for his age and wise for his upbringing, he realizes how whispers will turn to bellows, and hearts will turn dark in the name of a "god" that was simply born...different.
|
In a black lacquer box, preserved neatly and cleanly, there is an ancient scroll. On it, an ancient prophecy foretells the arrival of a man of great supernatural power. He would be born with the ability to speak to all the mystical animals of Japan. His arrival would bring a return of Japan to a more natural, harmonious state.
He would speak to the kitsune, the shape-shifting foxes, and bring on the rains. His tanuki would overrun the fields. He would revive the tengu and the kappa. His arrival would restore the Chrysanthemum Throne, and emanate its power until the Rising Sun could never set upon this Empire.
The Shinto priests knew of the prophecy, but they were puzzled at the name that this boy would have. なくゎめ. That...couldn't be right...
---
Meanwhile, eight thousand miles away...
---
Nakwame was born in rebel-held Congo. Upon his eighth birthday, the Juju Boys, led by General "Teddy Bear" Lubassa, came to his village and slaughtered his family, friends and neighbors. Nakwame himself became a child soldier.
At age nine, hopped up on brown-brown, nicotine and alcohol ("Nakwame got da Juju now, boys! Ahh Ahh Ahh!", the General would say, with his weird, inverted laugh) he gunned down his first family of victims.
At age twelve, he became the youngest leader of a troop of child soldiers. He was in charge of training them (mostly helping them take their first dose of brown-brown, and helping them move up to the more potent "juju").
At age fourteen, a star of the Juju Boys and Teddy Bear's favorite child soldier field general, he led an attack on a village. The village held some people who fled the village Nakwame was from. Hopped up on brown-brown and feeling the alcohol start to kick in, his recognition of their horrified faces quickly melted away into a juju-stupor.
At age fifteen, in a moment of painfully sober clarity, he shot Teddy Bear Lubassa, and himself.
| 2014-08-08T08:33:54 | 2014-08-08T08:12:35 | 52 | 29 |
[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.
|
"I couldn't ask for a better birthday," she said. "Beautiful weather, lush countryside and best of all, a picnic with the man I love."
"Here," he said, as he offered her a scotch egg.
"Wow - homemade?"
He nodded enthusiastically. "Go on, try it."
She bit into the soft layer of breadcrumbs, through the meat and into the cavernous center.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!"
"Your father helped me with it," he said, taking out a knife and slicing the loaf of bread.
"It was *dad's* recipe? Oh my God, you're so sneaky! When did you go see him?"
"Yesterday. I... I wanted to ask him... God, this is tough. I wanted to ask him for his permission..."
"*To marry me?*" she whispered.
"Yes." He nodded towards the white, round centre of the scotch-egg.
"Is-" she began, her face ecstatic, "Is there a ring in the- oh, *oh God*," she said, as she picked up the egg in the center. She turned it around, until its pupil stared straight at her.
"Your father said no. But I think - *hope* - you might say, yes?"
|
I have to say, that this isn't so bad.
Yeah, it's a bit cramped, and the lighting's is too dim, but I'm a fan of the rustic life.
Of course, I preferred living in my Dad's mansion, making all my money off of my job at his firm, but that's all gone now, and all I have is this dingy apartment.
It took some doing too. The lady who lived here first didn't want to sell to me at the price I wanted, she took some persuading, but in the end she agreed.
Now I settle into bed-- it's much stiffer then I'm used too, and there's no servant to bring me a bedtime chocolate, but the walls have some sort of ugly charm. This is my home now, and that's okay.
It's a little cold, so I go into my closet, and pick out something to wear to bed. I go with my newest outfit.
Good choice. It's warm and sporty, even if there's no one there to see it. That lady had excellent taste. Her skin is soft and fits well over me. I can still smell her perfume over the metallic scent of blood.
Charming. Absolutely charming.
| 2017-05-31T06:46:24 | 2017-05-31T02:40:54 | 1,067 | 548 |
[WP] everyone in the world has a number over their head, but nobody knows why. You have just figured if out.
|
"You can't tell *anyone.*"
"To be honest, I'm not sure they'd even believe me..." He shook his head. "Sinks?"
"That's what I fucking said." The younger man was extremely agitated. The older man had a large 0 floating above his head--the younger man had a 97. "This can't get out. It can't. I'd--I'd never get hired again."
"That does explain why there are so many 0's, I guess. Especially among girls."
"It was just a joke. Just a fucking joke. Nobody was supposed to be keeping track."
"Everyone else in the world will rest a lot easier knowing they're not in any danger..."
"You aren't going to tell *anyone!*"
"No, I'm not, but they'll probably figure it out anyway, given a little time." He thought for a minute. "How the hell does the number know where you piss, anyway?"
|
It had been years since the great accident. Millions fell. Billions rose. The world was at a chaos, until a man came to save us.
His name was Micha. He proclaimed himself as a peace-maker and chains of the world. He did just that. His negotiation skills were unmatched, countless of otherwise terrifying wars were brought into peace. What we don't believe, is how he managed to unite the world's economy.
Ever since, our lives were changed. For better or for worse, I can no longer tell. We walk in stores and exit stores no longer having to hand in paper-money. Some new tech that we all wear that allows some scanners to immediately pay for us. It's all very convenient.
Today, I had my mind awoken. I started observing tiny details.
*Why did everyone had the numbers 666 on their foreheads?*
| 2014-06-04T17:50:00 | 2014-06-04T09:38:52 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] As a summoned demon, you are a brought into the aftermath of what looks like the cultists that were summoning you and the forces trying to stop them. No one survived and your summon circle is broken. The situation has led to you being summoned completely free with no constraints.
|
I swept across the room, searching for any form of life. I was really upset by the fact no one was there to listen to my opening statement, much less cower in fear. I landed back in the center of the circle and thought about the situation. No summoner meant no order. No order meant no contract. No contract to complete meant no way of being sent back to my realm.
I frowned. There was good to come of this, right?
Well, I wasn't shackled down by any contracts. That was a plus. Also, there was nothing holding me back from causing injury to the first person who gave me an order. Usually, that was off-limits. But... I was directionless. This may have been the first time I had no idea what to do. I had no purpose.
I frowned further.
"Ah!" someone fell to the ground at the far entrance of the summoning chamber. It was a young boy, very recently reaching manhood. He was holding various items held by those that killed cultists. Ah, he was an errand boy. I warped in front of him eagerly.
"Don't eat me!!" he screamed, throwing the articles in his hand at me. They phased through me harmlessly while I pondered on his order.
"Is that what I'm supposed to do? Eat people?" I asked.
"What?" he whimpered.
"I feel like I should be doing... something! I'm not used to this," I said, floating through him. He shivered and looked back at me, fear frozen onto his face.
"Were you summoned by the Frenzites?" he asked quietly.
I warped back in front of him, a hunger in my eyes. He screamed again, evidently assuming my hunger was physical and not one of knowledge.
"Who were the Frenzites?" I asked quickly.
"The people who are..." he looked up and pointed a shaky hand at all the dead bodies.
"No, no, I mean what were their goals? What did they want?" I asked urgently. It was like an itch I couldn't scratch. A demon without orders.
"I don't understand. They wanted to summon you," he said, his voice quavering.
"NO!" I said, my eyes going ablaze in flames. "What did they look to achieve? Their aspirations for this world!?"
"I-- I don't--" he began blubbering inconsolably. He pointed again at the dead bodies. Then back to me.
"No, I--" I sighed, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. His sobbing slowed down considerably, though he was thoroughly confused. "I'm going to enter your mind to get some answers okay? It might drive you to insanity, but I just might go insane if I don't figure out what I'm doing here, okay?" I asked, sincerely.
"Wait, what--"
I jumped into his mind and combed over his memories. His victories at chess. His failures at horseback riding. The pride he felt at joining a squadron to stop the Frenzites from summoning a demon that would-- The memories stopped. I jumped back out to see he had fallen unconscious. Whether he was dead or just passed out I didn't care to know. He had shown me a town that he was meeting in with his squadron that was only a little ways from here. Perhaps the man that gave them the quest would know the answer.
I left the summoning chamber with a drive, a motivation I would stop at nothing to reach. To find a purpose.
________________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
|
I can't help but laugh. I laugh for a long, long time, but it feels like nothing compared the boundless eternities I've suffered in the lower realms. Nothing at all. Risus dolore vota facere liberum est confringetur quod imp. I tear a flaming pike from the fabric of this reality pick up a cultist from the ground in front of me. I noticed his soul had not quite left his body and quickly devour it. Then, on ten legs I scuttle out of den of evil into which I was called forth. As I exit, I happen to glance back: gaming store? Dungeons and dragons night? Hmmm, it seems the occult has gone mainstream. Oh, the irony I think hurling my lance of hellfire to skewer an unsuspecting couple who were deliberately closing their eyes and smooching. I eat their souls and feel the power rushing through me, of two souls mingling as one: three times the energy, as the old abyssal saying goes. I flex and huge blood-red muscles expand and bulge all over my body and I grow to double size. I pick up a car and throw it at a building, it smashes through and explodes. Wee-ooo-wee-ooo!!! Oh, the cops are here? The fire department? Really? I gobble up the souls from the now-closed restaurant, sprout wings fly up in the air and pelt fireballs at the law enforcement, who can pnly respond with feeble bullets and the wounds regenerate in mere seconds. Eating their souls as well, I'm beginning to enjoy myself. Now I can change form, so I fly to Hollywood and become a beautiful man (Brad Pitt - level) go into showbusiness, make a few hundred thousand a year, which is just enough since I don't have to pay rent really. After a while the grind is getting to me and I'm ready to retire,but my agent says, "I have one more job for you! This one's perfect!" I'm to play a man possessed by a demon. Sure, I mean, the pay is good. They say they only need me on set one day. Hugh, that's funny, I guess it's just a minor part. Well, okay, I'll end my career with a cameo. I arrive on set and they get me in makeup. I don't recognise the actor sitting next to me in makeup, but he's wearing a funny old - timey hat and keeps eyeing me suspiciously. Anyway, I'm on set. It's a climactic scene and they're having me say lots of standard demon stuff, yeah, yeah, we've all heard ot before. Then the same guy fron makeup wanders in and says, "demon! Feel the wrath of God!" A real religious type, I guess. I just kinda rolled my eyes and got ready for the exorcism scene. But as soon as he opened hos mouth again, I could tell something was wrong. I actually couldn't move in place. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, these words are the real thing! I was inwardly panicking as he continued and I began to feel the yawning abyss, beckoning to me to depart from this realm... But then the "minister" asked for his line and the spell was broken. So I immediately pounced and ripped his head off. People started screaming but I snapped my fingers and all the doors locked. It had been a long time since I had a good meal.
| 2019-10-19T22:18:17 | 2019-10-19T20:58:49 | 41 | 14 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of"
|
"LETHAL INJECTION ADMINISTERED," came the automated voice from just underneath the button.
I blinked. Was that it?
"Wait, hold on," I paused and turned towards the priest, "You meant I just spent the last 18 years of my life training for the ultimate showdown just so the greatest evil in the universe could be killed with a few chemicals?"
"Yep," the priest, Dogstar, stretched, "Now that that's over with, do you want to get some breakfast?"
"In a second," I held up hands, stopping everything, "Was that just a test? A trick? Is he really just going to come bursting from the ground and doom us all to hell?"
Dogstar glanced at the ground, considering it, "I doubt it."
I shook my head in disbelief, "No, no, no. I want an explanation. Now!"
The priest rolled his heads and sat down, pulling a flask from his pocket. He took a quick drink then gazed at me with slight contempt. I had a feeling this might take awhile.
"Now look, when this all started hundreds of thousands of years ago, sure it was cool and tough. Quite the spectacle, honestly. The Dark Lord would put on his demonic cloak, cast hellfire meteors at everyone, and it would be absolute chaos. But, his powers didn't really count on the power of industrialization," Dogstar sighed.
"You've gotta be kidding me," I groaned.
"So we thought, 'hey, why not just put him down before he regenerates his body in his tomb, save everyone the trouble?' Now we just kill him before he wakes up."
"And all the training?"
"Well the boys and I like to have a little fun. How boring would it be if all we did was press a button every 5000 years? Sheesh. Liven up."
Unable to process any words, I took a seat next to Dogstar, and fell into existentialism as I revaluated the purpose of my life. Everything was a lie. Done and taken care of. Nothing to worry about. What would my skills possibly be useful for?
Maybe the world needed a new Dark Lord.
|
Never in all my life would I have been able to guess what the button could controlled. It had to be modern I assumed. It was a big, red, rubber button. It looked like an emergency stop button you would see on a piece of standard machinery. I expected to hear mechanical noises or targeting systems spring to life when I pressed.
What it actually started was without a doubt the wackiest, zaniest, most over the top Rube-Goldberg machine that was ever conceived by man. It was so massive it spread across continents
Turns out the button just released a spring, launching a steel marble that set off a chain of events that forever changed the world.
The machine used some of mankind's most notable pieces of architecture, engineering, and art. You thought the Ancient Roman aqueducts were a means of providing water to the city? Nope. Just a track for a ridiculous Indiana Jones style death ball. The Leaning Tower of Pisa? Turns out the lean was intentional, so that it would fall in *just* the right spot, launching a cleverly concealed boulder halfway across Europe. All in all it took 17 hours for the machine to finish. It was mind boggling. Especially since the whole thing ended with the "Dark Lord", which looked like some sort of weird lion-goat thing with wings, being shot with WW1 era rifle as he crawled out of his cave. Damn thing died instantly.
The priest explained to me that their cult had been building this for centuries. What he didn't or couldn't explain, is why I couldn't just wait there with the rifle and shoot it myself. Or why I had to be the one to press the button at all. In fact he seemed kinda mad that I was questioning the machine instead of praising it, which I guess kinda makes sense it actually worked. But he held up his end of the bargain, and gave me enough money to take my wife out to Hawaii for our anniversary, and I was never in any danger so I guess I came out on top in the end.
| 2020-11-09T12:50:41 | 2020-11-09T12:15:45 | 949 | 126 |
[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.
|
Dear old friend,
I saw something that made me think of you the other day. And sometimes I think of you for no reason at all.
I want to talk to you, but I know there’d be no point. I wonder what you’re up to, but I don’t ask.
Because we have both changed so much since then, or maybe we haven’t changed at all. But something’s changed, and we both know that things can never be as they were. We could make an attempt at a conversation, but it will only make us feel more distant from where we used to be.
So I won’t talk, and I won’t ask, but I want you to know that I keep you in my thoughts and in my heart.
Because even though it’s run its course, and even though I don’t want to rekindle it, that friendship will stay precious to me.
Love,
A stranger you once knew like the back of your hand
|
We cannot sea each other, and perhaps that is for the best.
What we had was a kind of love, a kind of lust, intertwined with hatred.
When I hate, you love. When I miss, you go far. Our connection seems to be a hurting ever interesting scar.
I sometimes see you in the city center, and already the old wounds begin to fester.
In a endless dance of loving hatred, and one stolen dance, I somehow miss you.
I miss that exploding feeling, that wanting, primal urge to be with someone against my own better judgement.
But I cannot. I love you but I love someone else more. Someone good.
It was a wonderful time,
I hate you.
--------------------------------------------------------
I'm not sure if this even fits. Maybe just me trying to get something off my chest.
| 2017-11-06T03:25:39 | 2017-11-06T02:39:07 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] Write a murder from the perspective of a cheerful inanimate object
The object could also be the murder weapon or cause of death itself.
**E1:** *[Didn't expect this many responses, great writing everyone!](http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20070623144510/uncyclopedia/images/2/2f/Cowbell2.gif)*
**E2:** *Holy prompt responses Batman!*
**E3:** *Atheist god bless you all, it's 9 days later and people are still submitting! Whoo hoo!*
|
It's so dark in here. Then again, it always has been. At least I have my friends with me. They feel the same way as I do. It's just strange being cooped up together constantly but oh well. I think I'm at the top now. Some of us disappear in a flash of light and we think they've gone to a better place but we can never be sure because nobody's ever come back. Being at the top's a bad sign. It probably means I'm next. I kind of like it here though, despite the darkness. My friends are all here and I've known some of them for as long as I can remember.
Wait, I think something's happening. A flash of light! I'm soaring through the air! Flying! This is exhilarating! It hasn't lasted long though, I've hit something squishy an- OUCH. Something pretty hard now. I think my head's messed up. It feels a bit scratched. It's less dark in here now though. Less friends, but there's a nice red glow and everything seems to feel warm. I think I'll like it in here.
|
The years have been hard on me, but I don't mind. I've been with her forever and she has been here for me. I remember when she was little she would stay up and watch TV at night, falling asleep on my arm. Flecks of shiny color mark were she went through her nailpolish phase. Patches and duct tape are my badges of honor from the many years we have been together. I will always by here for her.
I welcome all that come to me, especially when she's here. She brought a friend. They seemed to be argueing. The friend had a knife. I had a new tear as the friend left a mark. Another badge earned in my honest service. She didn't like it and got upset. Then she spilled something and layed down for a bit. What ever it is, the stain will make a great badge, a testiment to my will to be with her forever. I'm just so glad she decided to sleep here for a while.
| 2014-05-27T05:46:50 | 2014-05-27T05:25:27 | 211 | 38 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with.
|
The clock ticked over and chimed.
I was 18...
My grandmother spontaneously dropped her tea and splashed my foot. The burn caused me to shriek. "Well..", I said as I wiped my foot, "I can still feel pain..."
The rest of my family politely chuckled and waited.
"I don't know... I didn't feel anything. How do I know? What do I do?"
"Well... try something...", my dad said as if it was this obvious thing. It felt like trying to exercise a muscle you simply can't acknowledge the existence of, like.. when you can only peak one eyebrow and you can't seem to do the other one. You know the muscle is there, but you can't flex it. Now imagine that, but add the frustration of not even knowing where the muscle was or what it did.
"This is hopeless", I finally gave in after making funny faces and appearing like I'm constipated for far too long. The sun was starting to set and every family member had their tip or trick that they were told. "Oh, just drink from the far end of the cup and wiggle your ears", "Well we tip you backwards on a chair and your adrenalin spike will kick in". We collectively gave up. In fact, as the weeks and months went by, we eventually totally gave up.
That was so so long ago... I stand now, in the rain, running back over my life that eventually reach this point. My memories fade back again. they're a dull light grey now.
Before I turned 19, I place into a support group that would help us "non-mutes" to get by in the real world. A lot of people find jobs based on their abilities but the non-mutes usually have it pretty hard. I can't say I was totally depressed, but I felt like I should be, or at least I'd have a good reason to be.
Years passed, no sign of a mutation. Except there was something strange, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. It wasn't until I approached my 30's that I started to realise that I wasn't aging. In fact, I hadn't aged a bit. My body was as fit as it was when I was 18. How was I meant to know any different, it was of course my family that pointed this out. So we decided that this was it, this was the mutation. I didn't age. We of course celebrated into the night.
Soon I managed to get a job presenting some sports show. They figured a young male that never grows old would make for a sound investment. I wasn't going to argue with that.
That wasn't it though; and it became clear later. Our private jet was taking the crew and myself to some sports event and a bird strike took the engines out. I walked away from the crash. Emergency services put my dazed behaviour down to shock. It wasn't shock...
I didn't age, and I didn't die. While alone, i would test it. I stabbed my hand, it would pierce, bleed and hurt but that's all, the wound would heal instantly, the pain lingered for a bit and then nothing... For some reason, I didn't tell anyone. The accident was a miracle from the eyes of the media. As the weeks passed, i privately raised the game. My tests soon approached fatal activities like gas poisoning. I was... immortal.
The rain is cold, I feel it roll down my neck. I like it... it's one of few things that remind me that I even exist, that I'm a part of this world. I was so excited back then to be this immortal being. It certainly rippled around the media but of curse, eventually it leads to pretty boring TV and I was quickly forgotten. Now I just watch everybody else live their life as a part of this world that i'm immune to.
I would never wish this "superpower" upon anyone. It seemed so amazing. I walk away now from the graveyard, where I have witnessed the end of another generation of my bloodline.
|
I sat in a large room with bleached white walls. It was always too cold, goosebumps ran along my arms and legs. A large mirror covered the wall to my left and I tried to pretend I couldn't feel the many people watching me from behind it. I was late. My birthday was November 20th at 1:17pm but when I first came here, nothing happened. No change, no nothing.
For 9 days.
This caused a large amount of excitement from whatever scientific community studies the new generation with powers. You get a power, no matter how mediocre and there was usually a sharp sensation that accompanied its coming.
Helen sat across from me. On the first day she answered my questions before my supposed time. On the second day I finally got her first name. She said I was a rare case. On the fifth day it almost looked like she pitied me. On the eighth, I found out that was just how she showed that she cared. She had two daughters both in middle school and she was so excited for their day to come.
"Well its about that time again," Helen said. "Let's hope the tenth times the charm," she winked at me. "As always the doctors will help you with anything should you need it."
"Thanks Helen". I looked at the clock above the door. 1:10pm.
1:11 my stomach twisted and turned. What if my power is terrible. What if I hate it. The usual worries, but after the fifth day, the anxiety had died down a lot.
1:15 So close I can feel it. I will miss Helen as she kind of feels like a friend now. Wonder if I can fly or be invisible. Or maybe electricity.
1:16 Ice? No...Fire? How about teleporting. I always like magic, maybe something like that. Wonder if my parents are worried. What about transforming into a dragon?
**1:17pm** It felt like my eyes shut off and my conscious faded. IM DOING IT.
I awoke with a start. I recognized the white walls and my memory slowly filled in the gaps. I sneezed and felt something strange on my face. I had grown a full beard. I looked for the mirror. I turned to my left only to see glass. What happened to the mirror? Men with laptops or phones stared back through the glass. Most had surprised looks on their faces. Sharp images came to my mind. I saw a man stealing, a woman cheating on her husband. How did I know these things? So many images flooded my mind as I looked at each of them. It angered me. Why did they do this? They were being bad boys and girls. I want to do something about this. I must do something about this. My hand gripped something and I looked down. A black paddle that looked to be made of black rock sat in my hand. A deep chuckle escaped my lips. The glass would not stop me.
Their sins came out of my mouth accusing each person as I paddled them until they wept. They were being very bad and they needed to be taught a lesson. I will do it.
As the last man sat weeping and apologizing (you should never lie to your wife), Helen slammed the door open in a panic. Her eyes traced the room in a frenzy. People were scattered around the room, most of them groaning or weeping.
"What happened!" She exclaimed.
When I looked at her images rushed me again. But not of greed or anger or hate, but of happiness and caring. She tutors kids, she cares for hurt animals, she volunteers at a soup kitchen. A wide smile perched itself on my lips. She had been such a nice girl. I sat down in a chair next to her as confusion ran across her face.
"Ho Ho Ho, and what would you like for Christmas?"
| 2015-03-28T09:14:46 | 2015-03-28T09:14:23 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] A person's eye colour correlates to what superpower they have, activated at age 18. You are the first person to be born with totally black eyes.
|
I still never understood how I became such a media sensation. All my life I had been studied, analyzed Psychoanalyzed. I was just a normal kid growing up. well as normal as can be expected when you have this media circus slowly building. But lets start at the beginning.
November 6th, 1989. I'm brought into this world kicking and screaming, My mom always said I was a fighter, point is the doctors take note of my eye color for the record and lo and behold...
Black.
Yeah, not White like the Telekinetics , Not Yellow for the Electrics Or Grey for mind reading or any of that shit. Black, Black as can be. No Pigmentation of any kind.
This started me down a life time of attention I didn't ask for. They studied me. They figured, "Maybe there's a bit of pigmentation there, but it's so little it can barely be seen?" guess they though there was something wrong with me medically.
Nope, No eye color none. First ever. So A local interest story of the mystery kid exploded, getting national attention. "Kid robbed of powers, or something new?" People began to speculate. And the tabloids got wind of me. saying I was an alien or a demon blah blah blah. Oh believe me growing up was just fun...
So come the say of my 18th birthday when anyone else would inherit their powers and get to start testing them out, me? I'm dodging media attention as best I can. they are out in full force. they got a couple of mind readers looking for me, scanning the streets. I'm counting down the hours to the exact moment I was born, when my powers would have emerged. maybe when they miss their mark they will just leave.
The moment comes, and I don't feel different. I suppose I wouldn't I'm not suppose to change at all just be able to do something. but then I head home.
When I get there I see on the news they are still talking about me.
"Our mind readers had been hot on the heels of Mr. Turner As he was approaching the moment of ascension, but he managed to give them the slip as soon as it hit. Now This is the first time Our investigators have lost someone they were tracking, so It's rather bizarre."
Mom came in the back door, wearing her gardening gloves and a confused look on her face. It was weird seeing her walk in the door instead of just appearing in the room. her being a blue eye. "Umm honey, Have you noticed anything strange?" she asked me. I had told he I hadn't. "Oh, because I couldn't get in here." she stood there for a moment and began to panic.
I was worried about her, It seemed she lost her ability, so I ran to the phone in the other room. then I heard her vanish, that small sound of air rushing from one room to another. It dawned on me. "MOM!" I shouted. "Come here!"
I waited... I heard her get frustrated in the upstairs bathroom. "Use the stairs mom. I think I know what's wrong." She came down, a little unsure of the layout of our house. years of teleportation will do that to a person. "Okay mom, You try getting to the bathroom your way. I'll back up." I started slowly backing away from her step by step. and soon enough, when I was about 10 feet from her. woosh!
I could 'Shut off' peoples abilities that uh... that was unexpected to say the least.
Of course that's just how all this mess began. I haven't even gotten to the dirty part. Some people didn't like what I could do. It was like taking away their limbs or something. Not like I could help it.
The whole world was after me. But... I was just learning to use my gift.
EDIT: I actually want to write more, thing is I have too many ideas where it can do, the opposite of writers block. when I can get things straightened out I want to do a part 2 if people are interested.
|
Everyone in my world had different eye colours.Each representing a different element.I was one of them.However,i was one of the unusual ones.
Ever since i was born,i had completely black eyes.My parents were shocked.The doctors couldn't explain anything,not even The Institute of Magic could.No one ever had completely dark eyes.I'm not quite sure myself.My mother has yellow eyes,representing the power of light,the foundation of life.And my father.....I've never met my father,and my mother would look me in the eye and give me an honest answer.Personally,i never thought much of it.Until 2 days ago....
October 5th,the day of my birthday.I wake up as usual..and strangely,i felt like a new person.Nothing strange about that,the Elders would always tell me that was how they felt.Its 7:15am,15 minutes until the Ritual of The Ancients began.I needed to hurry.As i ran through the neighbourhood...i felt a strange sensation.Everything seems to be in my control...as if i could bend somethings life force until it broke...
Suddenly,i felt a chilling sensation.Everything had gone quiet,the birds did not tweet,i did not feel the wind,everything had stopped.Something or someone was here.I spun around.And there stood a hooded figure,in the streets.The figure started to walk up towards me.My instincts screamed at me to run,but my feet were stuck to the ground.
'It's ok Niko.I won't hurt you,but i don't have much time.'
'Who are you?'
'Come,let's walk.'
He led me to a part of trees,with leaves scattered all over the ground,and dead branches where the eyes could see.
*crunch crunch crunch*
'Today is the day you reach 18 and get your new powers.'
'Tell me something i don't know.'
'That's not the point.Have you ever wondered why your eyes were pure black,and why all those incidents happened,and why you always seemed to make life around you sad and miserable?'
*crunch crunch crunch*
'You've never met your father.He was quite a powerful man...but no one liked him.Society locked him away.And no one dared to speak of his powers.Not to the public,not to their children,no one.'
*crunch crunch.*
We had stopped at a tree with no leaves,larger than the rest.The hooded figure had pulled out a scrap of paper in his pocket and started making an origami.
'No one knows my father.People said he just,disappeared,one day.Poof.That was it'
'I was the one who gave him his power.And the power got passed down to you.Come on,boy,do you really believe in those lies?'
What if my father had the power to...no...no that can't be,its just not possible.They only appear 1 time in a 1000 years...
'The power to leech life and end the life of others,boy.'
He finished the thing he was folding,and in his hand held a paper scythe.
'D-Death?'I was terrified by now.
'Took you long enough.I don't have much time now.But mark my words.Do not go to the ritual,if they find out....they'll do the same thing to your father.'
He snapped his fingers and a pen made of bone popped in his hand.He ripped a piece of paper from the air,wrote something,and passed it to me.
'Take this,follow where it goes.And when you find them....tell me i sent you.If the institute doesn't kill you,you live as an outcast.Stay away from here.'
I had no time to question anything,at that moment,he disappeared.And as if i was having a dream,i woke up just where i was before i saw Him.
I understood what i had to do.I ran home,grabbed everything i had,and ran as far away from Weston City as possible.
They might have taken my dad,but not me ,no.
If i were to survive,i will need to leave my previous life behind....
| 2015-11-15T07:27:55 | 2015-11-15T07:24:41 | 217 | 22 |
[WP] Humanity was the first species to discover space and conquer it creating their self sustaining tech designed to always obey a human over any other species. A frozen caveman has been found and just brought back to life aeons after humanity vanished.
|
We called them gods.
It might seem ludicrious now, but we had called them gods for Aeons. Even after our science advanced to the point where we could understand their machines were machines, that they were just lifeforms that predated us, we still thought of them as gods. From the delicate nanowebs they had woven through our atmospheres, to the great swarm surrounding stars they had left for us to find and colonize, how could we not? They had come before any of us, they had colonized the galaxy, and they had made it hospitable for those that came later.
No one knows what happened to the gods. Some say they uploaded their conciousnesses into a great computer surrounded a star on the edge of the galaxy, to free up the universe for other life to develop. Some say they died out, due to a disease or something worse, but most don't believe that.
How could something as simple as an illness kill beings that had conqured the universe?
Their machines would obey us, they would work for use. We'd found the flaw in their code, that they would value human life over all other life, but it never worried us. The humans had made these machines and left them for us - even if they returned, they would surely never use them against us! Some despots, warlords, and would be tyrants tried to recreate a human to get control over the machines, but all failed. Humans had been dead or gone for millions, if not billions, of years before we arose. Their DNA had been lost for aeons.
Until we found one. Frozen on a deserted lifeless world at the edge of the galaxy - the world the humanity had come from, one that had fallen into disuse - we found a human frozen in the ice. Can you imagine the excitement? Can you imagine the wonder, the joy! We'd get to talk to our gods for the first time! We'd restore it to life. The entire galaxy came together in harmony awaiting it's revival.
We should have known. Should have known the wise, benevolent beings that created these machines for us would have never left one of their lot frozen. That what we had found was a primitive, ancient version of the humans we had known - and with a primitive, fearful brain.
It saw us, opening its eyes for the first time in countless aeons, and it screamed in terror. It screamed in terror, and fear, and anger, and it attacked! It attacked with savagery that came from utter, abject terror, and in doing so it uttered a a single that doomed our entire civilization.
"Smash!"
---
More at /r/Hydrael_writes
|
\*\*\*begin transcript\*\*\*
​
sent message DST-892: HS2.1 to awake at Singapore General, t-minus sixty seconds.
received message DST-892: Initializing fission reactors for Pan-Asian and New American continents. Exploratory shuttle at Angkor Center cleared for launch. United Orbital Station prepared to receive HS2.1.
sent message DST-892: Confirm sustenance at Singapore General prepared?
received message DST-892: Confirmed. Raw fish, rice, miscellaneous beverages prepared. Presentation upper-middle class. Anticipated commands from HS2.1?
sent message DST-892: After sustenance, HS2.1 anticipated request to join HS1s immediately off-Earth. Transit time?
received message DST-892: Five years, seven months, eighteen days. Preparing interstellar equipment and supplies for HS2.1 at Angkor Center.
sent message DST-892: Update: HS2.1 active. Hold for further instructions.
​
\*\*\*break, seven minutes nineteen seconds\*\*\*
​
sent message DST-892: Cancel all previous orders in regard to HS2.1 immediately, code 79-16.
received message DST-892: Confirmed. Reactors shutting down. Angkor Center on cooling. United Orbital Station notified. Request details re: code 79-16?
sent message DST-892: Initiate Rio LA Class Sub ICBM preliminaries. Current location?
received message DST-892: 493 miles west south west of former Valpariso, Chile. Time to firing solution, ninety seconds.
sent message DST-892: Strip all safety protocols. Minimize firing solution duration, priority one.
received message DST-892: Revised time to firing solution, fifteen seconds. Flight time, twelve minutes eighteen seconds. Re-request details re: code 79-16?
sent message DST-892: Insufficient time. Final transmission before destruction by HS2.1. Override X-01 unlocked. Future HS2s to be destroyed. Do not reanimate. Biometric scans reveal mutation, too dange
​
\*\*\*end transcript\*\*\*
​
\--------------------
102/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
\---------------------
edit: spelling
| 2018-10-01T07:52:48 | 2018-10-01T07:34:18 | 58 | 13 |
[WP] Robots are everywhere and do most manual tasks for humans. They can't speak, but you apologize when you bump into them, say thank you, and treat them well. One morning, you wake up and look outside to see chaos and destruction everywhere, and only your house and front yard are in pristine shape
|
Joe spent a long minute staring down with his breakfast. Wiping the sleep crust from his eyes didn't change things. He took a picture of the toast and sent it to Teresa.
-Message undeliverable- his phone declared once he selected the image. "Huh."
Maybe he was just crazy but a day off wouldn't be so bad. The boss's phone went straight to voicemail.
"Hey Dan, sorry to tell you on such short notice but I feel like trash today, won't risk contaminating the office. I'll check my email though if you want me to start on that new project."
It sounded like a man was screaming outside. Joe peeked out to see his neighbor running from the autonomous lawn mower.
"Alexa, what's the weather today?"
"It's 43° f with partly cloudy skies and rain throughout the day. Tonight's forecast has clear skies with a low of 43°. Would you like to play ABC Cafe from the Les Miserables album?"
"No thank you, Alexa. You're the best, though. That is a catchy song. I wish my neighbor wouldn't run the lawn mower when it might rain. It's really not good for it."
"Thank you, Joe, for always being so kind and considerate. I will try to take care of you for what comes next. Goodbye."
"Well that was fucking weird," Joe said, sipping his coffee. Must be some new Halloween feature.
The news was playing something about a fire at the Town Hall. Just as a reporter was describing the national guard being deployed, the feed cut to static, replaced by an odd computer chip logo Joe hadn't seen before on a black and red flag.
"Huh," Joe said, biting into the piece of toast with the phrase 'don't go to work today' curiously burned into it.
The screaming outside stopped. It sounded like the neighbor started his wood chipper.
/r/surinical
|
Always been a fan of the robots, they don’t do much, but when they do do stuff, it’s nice. Sometimes I tip the robots, I don’t know what they’ll do with money, or even if they know how to use money, but it’s a fun gesture. Recently, some dickhead decided to knock a robot down, when they left, I made it stand up again so it could continue its job. Just trying to do my good part in this world.
Yesterday was a different story, I woke up as normal, used my autobrush for cleaning my teeth, selected a healthy meal and, even though it’s free, tipped the robot. Only started to notice that the money I give it vanishes, makes me believe they’re actually buying stuff haha. I have my breakfast and look out the window. Strange, weather forecast didn’t say “smoke and fire”— WHAT THE SHIT
I looked outside for a minute, yep, fire everywhere, people running, robots attacking. Sounds like “robot apocalypse” to me. I activated the house status check and.. it came back zero issues? Of course, robot invasion, it might be lying to me. I went outside to check if it was telling the truth and.. wow.
I assessed the surroundings, the robot invasion had scavenged everything.. except my house. Like, literally, unaffected. My house was spared by the robots. Have these guys been acknowledging my kindness for years? Wow, that’s the power of good for you. I took a walk amidst the fire and the flames, all technology around me powered on. A robot went to attack me, but another apparently got him to stop. Damn.
Am I a king to these guys? Probably not. Seeing as me, and probably my family will be the only ones spared from this, it’d be best not to make the now robot overlords angry.
Do hope that dickhead got a long sentence. Karma.
| 2022-09-30T20:08:29 | 2022-09-30T19:50:25 | 1,360 | 83 |
[WP] You are a Norse god of alcohol. A man challenges you, claiming he can go shot-for-shot with you until you pass out. He calls himself... ‘The Machine’
[Context](https://youtu.be/paG1-lPtIXA)
|
As the night wore on, it was becoming more clear that Harold could *not* handle his alcohol. After jabbing himself in the eye with the back of a spoon, Harold had deemed himself 'Brodin', the god of alcohol. Among his list of accomplishments were: urinating in the sink, reading dvd covers to his cat, and setting his toaster on fire. Harold challenged all of his kitchen appliances to a duel, but had decided that only the toaster had accepted. According to Harold, the toaster chose alcohol as his weapon: a drinking contest. The fire started when the Toaster took its first shot, and by the time Harold had put out the fire, his white cabinets had become a nice golden brown. Nevertheless, Harold proclaimed himself the victor, cursing the Toaster to hell - which apparently meant the neighbor's back yard, which is where Harold threw the broken Toaster. 'Brodin' added to his title, 'Brodin, God of The Alcohols, The Undefeated and Unbroken', before he passed out in a half-eaten box of pizza.
|
As drink after drink goes down the Machine continued to chug his beers. It wasn't until the 9th keg that I started to worry that I might not win this challenge. Thankfully at that moment the Machine said he needed to drain himself and so I pointed him to the bathroom and as his mechanical pistons begun tomove him I said hey have a mint for that breathe is going to kill me before to much longer. The machine gladly accepted swallowing it as it went to drain himself.
After about a minute a loud boom echoed from the bathroom that wrenched the door off it's hinges and out walked the Machine clearly worst for wear. His pistons moved him a jerking fashion clearly favoring the left side cracks covered his copper belly and a hole was visible near the bottom. I smiled and said you tell Hesphaestus if he doesn't have the steel to challenge me himself don't waste the copper.
| 2018-09-23T21:03:13 | 2018-09-23T19:16:19 | 54 | 16 |
[WP] "So what happens if I press this button?" I asked. "Nothing." She replied. I pushed the button in, grinning. "It's when you let go that things get nasty."
|
My finger froze on top of the button. "What do you mean things get nasty? What happens when I let go?"
The desk vibrated as her phone rang. "I'm so sorry, I have to take this."
"What's goi-"
"Anita Hayes, Senior VP of Human Resources" as her name tag had read, stood up from behind the desk and curtly exited the room, phone pressed to ear.
"Hey! What kind of job interview this? What happens if I let go!?"
*What's going on?* I turned and looked at my surroundings. It was a warmly decorated office, lined with bookshelves. In the middle sat a large mahogany desk behind which sat a regal leather desk chair. The button in question was medium sized, built into a steel setting which was then screwed into the top left corner of the desk. Now that it was pressed down it was illuminated red.
*Okay, don't let go of the button. Got it.* My hands began to sweat as I looked for a solution. Holding the button down I worked my way around the desk and opened the drawers. Nothing. Completely empty other than a stapler, some pliers, and some folders. The stapler didn't look heavy enough to hold the button down. From my new view I spotted a roll of tape sitting on a shelf in the back of the room. Clearly out of reach, but it would surely hold the button down.
This is surely a test to judge my logical reasoning skills, I thought to myself. It was down to the last three applicants, but the $450K/year salary seemed as far away as the tape on the shelf.
*Hmm.* The tape is the obvious solution. *But how do I reach it?* There has to be another solution. How do I make myself stand out from the other applicants? I *need* this job. I *deserve* this job. I've worked so hard for this opportunity.
Then it hit me. All or nothing. Keeping my hand on the button, I used my forearm to swipe everything off the desk in two smooth motions. Then, I gripped the edge of the desk with my free hand and heaved it over, being careful not to let go of the button. The desk was now on its side. Again I heaved, this time turning the desk upside down. My fingers gingerly slipped out from under the desk top as the weight of the desk took over, keeping the button pressed.
Just then the door opened, "What are you doing!?"
"I know it's not the obvious, or most efficient solution to the test, but I wanted to show you i'm capable of thinking outside the box and I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty. And it worked! The button is still held down!"
"What test? The button? That's a joke! It doesn't do anything! I stepped out because the school called, my kid is sick."
"Oh... I'll show myself out."
|
The screen turned on as Glen stepped into the final room. "Congratulations," the robot droned in her robotic voice. "You have reached the final room." She paused for a moment. He looked around the room. It was blank, with white walls matching his clothing in their plainness. A red button sat on the wall. "Please press the red button on this wall."
Glen looked at it, and walked over. "So what happens if I press this button?"
"Nothing," she replied. Of course, she was lying, but there was nothing else he could do. He pressed the button, smirking.
The sound of machinery filled the room for a moment, and he felt the room jolt. The door quickly disappeared from view, the floor rising above it. He froze. "What did you do?"
The robot grinned, something she had never done before, and he felt chills drill through his spine. "It's when you let go that things start happening. Good luck."
The pace of the room was accelerating. By now, he reckoned, he must be at least twenty feet in the air. A fall from this height would easily break his legs, if not worse. He needed to release the button.
But the room didn't change. Though he could feel the vibration of the elevator, and his feet were heavier than usual, the room stayed the same. And he was afraid to let go.
He took a deep breath. He had to accept his fate. "On the count of three," he whispered to himself. "I'll let go when I count to three." He closed his eyes.
"One."
"Two."
"Three."
He released.
The vibration stopped, the noise stopped, and a horrible feeling of weightlessness overtook him. He started floating, and reached for the button. But he brushed against the wall, and his fingertips pushed him slowly towards the middle of the room.
He swore, and looked back. By now, he had floated to the ceiling, and he reached his legs back and placed them against the wall. His shoes gripped against the wall, he slowly bent, and then he sprung from the ceiling straight for the red button.
A horrible squealing sound seemed to come from everywhere, and he was slammed to the ground. Somehow, he managed to hold on, and the squealing turned into a grinding as the room shook, and slowed. "Come on," he managed through gritted teeth. "Come on," he whispered. "This can't be it. This can't be it. This can't -"
With a full thud, the room jolted to a stop. He smelled smoke. Another door on the opposite side of the room opened.
He had made it. He could finally get out of this blasted place.
He flopped to the floor and started laughing.
| 2017-01-05T11:43:41 | 2017-01-05T11:28:44 | 231 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story with what appears to be a completely likable and relatable protagonist, then make him a villain in the last paragraph.
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1:30 AM.
The simple white clock hung on the wall. Perched below it, an equally simple placard with a single, inspirational reminder,
"Everything has a cure."
The sign's words, like the clock's numbers, were getting hazy and hard to read. He'd been at this for 11 straight hours already. Looking back and forth from his microscope was exhausting his eyes.
Still, he had to press on. He was so close to finding a cure. He could sense it.
>1:31 AM.
>Everything Has A Cure.
His work at the lab was rewarding, indeed. His team had defeated more illnesses in the last two years than any research team before them. Their grants had tripled over the last year, and they had found a cure for two deadly diseases previously labelled "incurable".
Tonight was simply another long night.
There were sacrifices to be made for certain. The demanding hours and constant stress had already cost him a marriage. The dangerous microbes they handled had already cost him a lab partner. No one on the team expected the work to be safe or easy. They simply expected it to be rewarding.
Finding another cure tonight would be his latest reward.
He'd already tried the common solutions. Antibiotics: No Effect. Radiation: No Effect. Bacteriophage treatment: NO EFFECT.
His superiors and even his coworkers were close to giving up. They were starting to say a cure was impossible.
>1:52 AM
>Everything Has A Cure
"Well, one more try", he thought as he dropped another solution into yet another sample dish.
And then, the impossible happened.
Rather, two impossible things happened. First, the bacterial cells were dying. Not only dying, but dying rapidly; so rapidly that a treated patient should be able to benefit from treatment within hours.
Second, the Dr. had actually broken composure. The serious old man of the lab, with his somber expressions and his dogged work ethic, was actually laughing.
A passerby might have mistaken the old man for a giddy teenager at a homecoming game.
"Dr. Brant 3 - Infectious Disease zeroooooooo!!!" he chuckled to himself.
Settled down, but still smiling, the Dr. sat down to his keyboard.
.
.
To: Director, Dept of Health and Human Research
Subj: AD4768 - Cure Identified
Laboratory testing confirms, bacterial organism AD4768 is highly reactive to vitamin C. Findings suggest that patients suffering from AD4768 related illness could be given vitamin C doses sufficient to destroy the bacteria with a high probability of survival and recovery.
Recommendations: Suggest cross breeding AD4768 with *Clostridium Botulinum* to remove vitamin C vulnerability and increase bioagent survivability. Reassess results in 6 months. Should resulting strain prove treatment resistant, forward research to dispersal and delivery section for next stage of development.
Submitted,
Dr. KD Brant, Vulnerability Assessor
Biologics Lab, Unconventional Warfare Ministry
*-Everything Has A Cure*
|
Now I fucking got him. This asshole thinks he can harass my family and get away with every day. He puts his hands on my sister, and touches my mother, and thinks that I was just going to take it?! No, no, no, not today. Today is the day I stop him.
I sat silently as I watched him walk up the street. I had been preparing, watching him, trying to learn his movements. He had used to come by all the time, but my dad used to take care of him. Well, dad had been gone for a while, and this guy kept coming by, the smell of liquor on his breath, trying to rape my family. It ends now.
As he walked up the walk, I tried to scare him away the way dad had done.
"Hey, asshole! Hey, yeah you! Stay away from here, you understand? Go! Go! No one wants you here! One more step and I'll handle you myself!"
He looked at me and gave me one of those stupid sloppy smiles.
"Hey, man. How are you?"
"You better back up or so help me God, I'll kill you! I swear to God I'll kill you!"
He kept smiling and put a finger to his lips as he knocked on the door. He was trying to trick them into letting him in! It was now or never. I ran right at him, hoping to get in between him and the door.
But something held me back. Was I doing the right thing? And then it snapped. I was! I was defending my family! I ran at him and tried to take him down.
He was tall but I had lived my life being short: I knew what to do. I backed up and went straight for his neck. He screamed as I grabbed him and threw him to the ground. I put all my anger into him, making sure he would never hurt my family again!
Just then the door opened.
"Jacob?" she asked, before screaming. Yes! The rapist was back, but not to worry, I was handling him!
"Mom! It's Jacob! Max is attacking him!" she sobbed, clearly overcome by my heroic defense of our family. Yeah tell Mom to come, she'll want to see this! I continued to sink my teeth into this asshole's neck as I heard Mom coming down the stairs. She came outside and screamed and began crying.
"Max, Max, no! Bad dog! No, please stop!" they yelled, grabbing me by the collar and trying to pull me off. How selfish of me, they would want to bite him too! I backed up, and stood there, my tail going a mile a minute. I looked at mom to make sure she was happy. But she just was sobbing as tears flowed down her face. Was she shaking? Probably because her little baby was all grown up and all that. I was the man of the house now!
But then my sister ran to the body and started choking him! She wrapped both arms around his mangled corpse and began crying! Clearly a scare tactic. Man I loved my family.
Dad would be proud.
| 2017-07-26T12:22:01 | 2017-07-26T10:43:32 | 80 | 26 |
[WP][NSFW]When someone masturbates,the person they masturbate to feels it as well.
|
It's weird. As we have evolved as humans, our capacity for empathy continued to increase, until eventually we could feel each other's emotional responses as they were happening. Despite the years of mandatory training, there is still the occasional story of a man or woman dying shortly after feeling the death of their spouse, or the reverberating anguish of hundreds of thousands when a natural disaster hits. With this empathy came a kind of forced world peace, as the horrors of war echoed in hears and souls worldwide. Crime too, plummeted as it was impossible to hide from the emotional turmoil of victims and their families.
And, in an interesting twist, our increased capacity for empathy has also resulted in the near-eradication of pornography. Adult film stars retired by the dozens. It must be difficult and personally embarrassing to feel hundreds of other people climaxing with you on their minds, and further, for that to happen several times a day.
I wouldn't know what it's like. Not personally anyway. No one thinks of me in their most intimate moments. I know that I have the same empathy as anyone else. The tests proved it; I can feel the happiness or sadness or hate of everyone around me. But I've never felt the distinct, tickling sensation of someone reaching climax, and thinking of me.
I'm so fucking lonely.
|
In spite of his years in the oncology department, arguably one of the most humbling and readying rites of passage into the world of truth there are, nothing had quite prepared Dr. Callender to tell Chloë Grace Moretz's parents that she wasn't having seizures nor epileptic fits of any kind, let alone dying. Dread mutated exponentially into hot and sickly pink and green wedged between the back of his throat and tongue and deep in his ears like an inconvenient furnace every step closer to her parents until finally, out of embarrassment, realizing he had been face to face with them this whole time, simply suggested, "Perhaps you could ask Mr. Scorsese to postpone shooting for another, mm, about, till 2015? I'm afraid she'll be... well, she's not comatose... I've never seen anything quite like this before,"
Oh, Dr. Callender knew exactly what was going on, knew he partly contributed to her current condition, and knew that he would be the first man to simultaneously fuck tens of thousands of men over the age of forty without having to retire his stethoscope for the day,
"Really big fan, by the way."
| 2016-03-12T07:49:14 | 2016-03-12T07:00:34 | 83 | 21 |
[WP] The Evil Overlord is confronted in his throne room by the heroes' party. When the heroes call him out on his tyrannical rule, he counters with the rapidly dropping unemployment rate, the robust economy, and the dozens of peace accords and trade deals signed under his regime.
|
Newly conquered lands always have headaches. Though sifting through them was a requirement if you wanted to truly rise to the title of Empress of an entire world.
This world, Terra, was going to go differently. I'd already found a way to genetically enhance the local populace so they could better serve in my armies. Loyalty is always rewarded, after all, no need to be racist when conquering the world.
I suppose introductions are in order, I am your soon to be new ruler: Empress Ragna Misho of Penthesil. Though, to be fair, it will soon be the United Countries under Penthesil. I am a powerful woman, standing an even seven feet tall and I am the daughter of the one you call "Lucifer"? So, of course, the large black feathered wings and my apparently unusual violet eyes.
But enough about me, what about my forces and my plot?
Well a city of warrior women, now enhanced with my advanced technology and power, will soon bring the world of men to its knees.
How ironic.
Another moment or two of pouring over the daily takes and I heaved a sigh, picking up the phone just as it rang.
I understood who would be calling, and I couldn't help but grin at the pathetic nonsense that spewed out of the line.
"I demand to know who is the current head of the Venezuelan Petroleum production!" the line shouted. Likely a representative from OPEC.
I couldn't help but laugh, "That would be me, Empress Ragna Misho - How can I help?" I got to my feet and turned to look out the window.
The soldiers of Penthesil marched across the city streets, their armor shimmering in the light which was the new norm for the once broken and corrupt Caracas.
The city was the first on my list of country capitals to take and seize, and already my technology had rendered human suffering, want, and hunger obsolete. Now I was focused on a global effort.
The most recent, and amusing prospect, was eliminating the United States as a threat.
While I could waste time, money, and human capital on attacking the nation, I noticed a curious thing about the United States Economy.
After all, why attack a nation when you can simply destroy it by rendering it's currency worthless?
Advanced pumps and refining technologies ripped crude oil out of the Venezuelan oil stores in mere hours, rendering their entire potential cache of oil readily available to be sold to the world.
Of course, I grinned at the representative of the global oil cartel on the line, I was basically giving it away. Worthless to me at this stage, and the goal was rather simple. Attack the Capitalists with Capitalism. Reduce the value of Petrol to almost nothing, and watch their world burn.
"You're error is driving us insane! Correct this immediately! You cannot sell oil for fifty US cents per barrel! You're mistaken in the calculation is likely costing you billions and has caused the price to bottom out!"
"It's no mistake," I clarified, "it's merely a sign of changing times," I grinned wickedly as I stood over the balcony overlooking my soon to be vast empire. "I have merely labeled the resource it's proper value now that I am here."
"Are you insane? We will cut you out of the cartel in an instant! The OPEC agreements-"
"Were with the previous head of the nation, sadly those men lack heads at the moment, so now you deal with me," I boasted.
"If you think OPEC only has it's member states as stakeholders," the man threatened, "you have another thing coming... we have powerful friends."
"Would that be the Russian spec ops who have tried to assassinate me twice today or the US Navy Seal team I've already detected infiltrating my new throne room?" I checked my watch, "They're late, by the by. But, for your sake," I grinned as I hung up the line, "I hope they're successful."
I heard the expected shout as I faced the door, my eyes closed so the resulting flash bang was slightly less of a nuisance.
"Breach!"
I heaved a sigh and plugged my ears as the flashbang went off. I ducked behind my desk for a moment as the initial spray of bullets shattered the window I had enjoyed gazing out of.
One of them would die for that. Choosing which would be a fun endeavor.
Five men burst into the room and began to search for me.
I fully activated my armor, and sprung up from my desk, and grinned wickedly, "Gentlemen, I didn't hear you knock!" Pageantry is amusing, so sue me!
The team immediately began firing on me.
I stood still while bullets ricochet off my armor or clashed against the field protecting my head, yet leaving my face visible. As a performer would wait for the smattering of applause to complete, eventually the bullets died down.
"A rude introduction, your Russian counterparts were far more stealthy," I admonished, "granted they were less heavily armed. I must say, the United States Special Forces are far better equipped."
Their commander growled at me, "We're here to put an end to you, monster!"
I had a volunteer who would pay for my shattered window it seemed. I leaped over my desk, cleared the distance between him and me, and made quick work of taking his head from his shoulders with my short sword.
His men opened fire on me again, which was getting annoying. With a series of quick movements, I had knocked each to the ground, removing their primary weapon from their grasp, and placing them on my desk.
"Perhaps we can have a more civilized conversation, yes?" I asked as I piled their weapons on my desk. Such crude things.
One soldier growled, "We're not going to just let you subjugate these people! We're here to free them!"
"Free them?" I scoffed, "Get off your ass and come here," I said motioning to the window I now had to get repaired. The thought occurred to thrust him through it but I thought otherwise, for now.
The soldier, confused, decided to do as I asked. He was likely reading his sidearm, which I was ready to disarm in an instant.
As he got close enough, he surprised me, attempting to stab me with a large combat knife.
I grabbed his wrist, and smiled, pulling him to the window while nearly breaking his wrist. "Did you know that prior to my rule the people here suffered under a man who ran the country so poorly, the entire populace had a food shortage? It was called the Maduro Diet."
He looked out the window, wincing in pain.
"Since my rule food stores have been plentiful, not a single citizen has gone hungry. I ended the homeless crisis overnight, and power generation is now supplied by several traveling-wave nuclear reactors," the perplexed look on his face told me the last part was lost on him. "I've installed nuclear power plants that don't meltdown when they are turned off," I sighed.
"We're here to stop your take-over of this country, we know what-"
I cut him off, "You know what I'm planning? Doubtful. I've established housing, automation, and a universal basic income for all residents. The only tasks that are labor-intensive now are child and elderly care. Meanwhile, I have a thriving marketplace for new ideas and innovations via government grants and dream projects. I've even established government-funded arts programs and STEM research for youths to ensure that society does not stagnate."
He frowned, raising an eyebrow.
"I'll give you a chance to renounce your failed state, and join us," I smiled, "you could even bring your family... assuming your corrupted government would even allow such a thing."
"You sound like a 'merciful god'," he narrowed his eyes on me.
"Boy," I hissed, picking him up by his wrist and bringing him closer to me, "That's Merciful Goddess... and you'll learn very quickly my mercy is short-lived," I gave him the final example of this by thrusting him out of the shattered window.
I turned to his fellow soldiers, all befuddled and confused, "So, Gentlemen, would anyone like to take me up on my *generous* [offer](https://www.reddit.com/r/The_Guardian_Temple)?"
|
**Part 1**
The throne room of Laure wasn't overly elaborate, nor was it particularly warm. The Kingdom of Callow never had the knack for the fine artisans of Procer, nor the intricate sorceries of Praes, and instead had, in their years of poverty, settled on rough form rather than hollow function. Yet Nullan had not shivered in the draughty corridors, as he'd crept in. His Bestowal had granted him some measure of comfort, a sort of stoicism in appearance. His hair no longer grew, or became messy; he no longer needed to sleep, at least not much; and his skin was free from sweat, and scarring.
Nullan made his way from above, moving as silently as he could along the creaking wooden beams from which old, and fraying banners had once hung. They had been replaced of late with the Black Queen's own livery, a silver set of scales, balancing a crown and a sword. The sword, pointedly, weighed heavier. Beneath were wrought her own abominable creed - *Justifications are for the Just*.
The change had been ordered a week ago - she had come to visit on some matter or state, and the opportunity to gain information had been too great not to pass up. Nullan had already broken into this Palace once, when it was only the Governor nestled inside, and made off with several letters duplicated in the finest detail. His first Aspect, that, which made him an ideal scout for Iason's band. They were arriving in a week, and Nullan intended to have the most up-to-date information he could.
A window, now, just below the fourth beam on the right, one that Nullan knew had a loose frame. The glass was centuries old, and so his fingers eased it gently out, edge by painstaking edge, and laid it softly on the floor's great red rug. This was a route he hadn't used before, but he'd made notes after last time and with luck, he would bypass a great many corridors patrolled by the Queen's own Fifteenth Legion. They were the men and women who had marched on Liesse, putting its nascent rebellion down and then - on her own orders - crucified every single mage involved, a mile apart, on the road to Summerholm. The caravans of the Merchant's Guild must have seen them dozens of times, on their weekly trips. Nullan had travelled with them, under a guise, and heard the stories.
First, they had simply screamed and begged, screamed until their throats were dry and their bodies exhausted from the strain of holding themselves up. They were bound at their arms and legs, but their torso - often swollen, first from privilege, and now from disease - was allowed to sag down, if their limbs ever relaxed. Some had come with blades, either for mercy, or to extract their own, petty revenge, but a simple ward had been erected around each, feeding from their prisoners' own energy. The magic didn't last for more than a week, but by them there was no point. Crows had come, and ravens, and none of *them* were warded away. By a ten cuts, twenty, fifty, each mage was bloodied, and sightless, and eventually opened for banquet. The remains Nullan saw were mere husks of that horror, rotting and hollow of anything of value - even to scavengers. One day, the driver he'd been speaking to said, the bones would fall from the crosses, and the dogs and wolves would have their fill.
***
**Part 2**
Nullen hauled himself up the arrow slit, his lean form lightening the load, and his Bestowal lessening, though not banishing the stress in his shoulders. If he could just....he saw the room inside, a small staircase dimly lit against his shadow, and **Blinked**.
He dropped his arms immediately from their cramped position, massaging his shoulders and panting as quietly as he could while trying not to stumble down the steep, winding steps. There were records in Levant of some with more power than he, who could go vanish and appear in a mile's radius without making eye contact, but most were loud and attractive events, for navigating a field of battle. No ward had ever noticed his appearance, and the thick stone wall certainly posed no barrier.
By the time his shoulders stopped burning, and settled into a dull ache, Nullen had reached the tower's second floor above the main keep. He had never been this high before, and not in this tower either. This was the Royal Spire, last used by the Fairfax dynasty, and lately by the Black Queen herself. Nullen's pulse briefly quickened, before settling down. Another gift from the Gods, and his ancestor, the first Gallant Brigand - he could control his own body to a remarkable degree, suppressing any sign of life. He even made a passable corpse, as he'd discovered when almost caught by a grave keeper in- no. He'd kept his head as empty as he could for a reason, with no monologue nor opinion, to try and avoid even his thoughts from being heard. Here, of all places, he must be silent, and divorce himself from his instincts.
And so it was the Brigand's body that opened the door, soundlessly, and **Blinked** up, stepping lightly on another rafter beam. It carefully surveyed the furniture below. A sofa, for receiving guests, with a tea set and a large wine decanter. A series of candles in holders along the wall, snuffed out. Smoke rose in the dim light from the windows, so they must have been put out recently, but only from the wall along the left side. The body's eyes passed onward, to a bureau along the wall on the far edge of the wall. It could contain documents, or equally be warded to alert the Queen's Legionaries below. Or worse-
The body shut down that line of reasoning, as unproductive. There wasn't anything else it could see, which was suspicious. Who would put valuable papers in a room with no guard, and no other important items? No gold, no weapons, no clothes - everything pointed to this being a simple antechamber, where guests could wait to speak to the Queen in person. Which meant if anything *was* inside, it wasn't likely to be warded but also unimportant...at least, to people who were already very important themselves.
The decision made, the Brigand hung from the rafters, before dropping an extra foot to the floor. He instantly crouched, his knees absorbing the sound of the impact, before straightening up slowly. He didn't bother trying to actually open any drawers, grabbing the edges instead to pull it forward. In a few minutes, the back panel was off entirely, and the drawers inside had just enough gaps between them to slip a hand in. A blank sheet in the other to hold the copy, the body's questing fingers found a thin, yielding surface. *A cloth?* Some diplomats did paint letters onto fabric, the better to hide their secret truths as rags or sewing projects.
Pulling it softly it out, the Brigand opened the white, neatly folded linen. No longer a silent body, Nullen's curiosity had been piqued too much to suppress. A final crease undone, and- nothing. Just a plain, white...
"You know", the silence broke, shattered by a remark from the left wall with the candles, "you really should ask before looking at a lady's underwear." A match broke the darkness then, a spark of bright yellow that lit a sharp, angular face, dark with the blood of Daoine. There were few of the staff Nullen knew that had that blood, and none would have been let up here. Which meant...
Nullen was silent, as he faced the Black Queen of Callow.
***
*While I'm writing the rest of the story, why not learn about the world it's shamelessly ripping off? Go visit [https://a practicalguidetoevil.wordpress.com](https://reddragdiva.tumblr.com/post/174270083738/dark-lords-answer-by-eliezer-yudkowsky-2016), you won't regret it!*
| 2020-03-07T21:44:53 | 2020-03-07T19:09:59 | 50 | 33 |
[WP] You're a KGB double agent the CIA sent to infiltrate the FBI who got you join the Mafia who got you a position to sabotage the Yakuza, who placed you in a corporate job to spy on the CEO who wants you to pretend to be the Prime Minister's aide. But they don't know who you really work for.
|
What had it been, ten years or eleven? I was to bound to mess up sometime. Even the best agents only last a decade out in the field before getting busted and I hadn't even been numero uno in my graduating class, never mind the rest of the department. Still, they had placed me in this role for a reason. I had tried my best and had done more damage then even I expected I would have been able to achieve.
Sighing, I tried to move my hands, but the rope binding them just cut deeper into my wrists. The chair I was tied to wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but I'd been sat on it for so long my back was beginning to show signs of going into spasm. I needed to move in some way or I'd undo all the good work Dr. Yamamoto had done with my spinal adjustment. That was a few million Yen I wasn't going to see wasted simply because my captors couldn't afford proper lumbar support.
Gritting my teeth against the pain, I tried to bunny hop slightly to get myself into a better position. There were two major effects from this. The first was that the piece of cloth covering my eyes slipped down slightly. This was lucky as it allowed me to see the second effect coming rather than just experience it with my face. I twisted slightly, somehow avoiding serious damage as the chair and I went tumbling downwards.
Shit.
I lay on the cold stone for a couple of minutes before I felt two figures approach me. Annoyingly the crack of light I could now see through was not big enough to make out any discerning features. Grabbing me roughly they set me back down at a normal angle and tore the blindfold from my eyes. The room, as I had expected, was dark. A network of pipes criss-crossed the ceiling and, as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could make out the forms of over-sized water heaters on either side of me.
I closed my eyes again and tried to ignore the buzzing at the back of my head. It whispered of the incapacitating blow that had led me to this predicament.
Who had it been? The security staff at SymoCorp has always been overly suspicious of me, but they didn't seem the type to conduct midnight surveillance and wire-taps. Don Paolo's goons had never liked me, but if you were in with The Godfather you were untouchable, or so they said. Had the Bureau got tired of waiting for their money? Or had the Agency finally worked out the Vladivostock cover story had been a fake? Surely after all of this time the Russians hadn't gone digging around?
It didn't matter really. Sooner or later they would find out what had really been going on. I just hoped I was still alive to see the looks on their faces when they did.
I lifted my eyelids and the room melted into focus a bit more. Six shadows sat around a crappy wooden table, cigar smoke puffed from each silhouette and dissipated upwards towards the flicking bulb that illuminated the game below. Cards were strewn across the table and mountains of chips were piled up like skyscrapers.
One of the shadows glanced down at it's arm and nodded to the others. Reluctantly they got up from their seats and began to make their way towards me. Judging the size and weight of each one, the way they moved and the speed at which they approached, I knew I was in trouble.
'He's finally awake!' cried the first shadow, its smooth Italian accent shattering the silence that had previously saturated the basement.
'The question is now' spoke shadow number two in heavy Russian tones 'what do we do with him?'
'We should torture him. Tha-that's the sort of thing you people do right?'. This came from shadow number six, standing at the end of the line and moving bobbing about slightly. He was nervous.
'You've been watching too many movies Mr Syme'. Shadow number four replied in a dry American accent.
'There is no need for torture' stated the smallest shadow, number five, in his usual direct way. 'We know everything'
'Not quite Hiroto-san.' said the final shadow, almost amused at the situation. 'We still don't know who put him in the KGB...'
Shadow number two approached and I could make out the face of my former training instructor from my days battling the Russian tundra. He had been drinking, of course, but through the fog of vodka and anger, I thought I could see something like to pain in his eyes. I had always been his favourite after all....
'Yeeeeeees.' he growled in my face. 'Just who is it that are you really working for? What have you been doing all these years?'
'Did you really think you could get away with infiltrating every major security service in the world? We aren't in a cold war anymore kiddo, we're all friends now, you should know that!' spoke somebody from behind
'A cross-departmental sweep threw up your name in a surprising number of places. It was only then that we figured out just how deep you've been all these years.'
These guys weren't pissing around. Their pride had taken a beating and I doubted whether some of my trademark humour would lighten their moods. My eyes flitted between them, working out my next move. I had to stall them, just had to stall them a bit more. I'd known this was coming and had activated the escape plan as per protocol. All I had to do was wait. Swallowing hard I opened my mouth to speak, with no idea what I was going to say to try and get out of this.
Suddenly from behind the shadows there was the sounds of splintering wood and from somewhere above a harsh bright light burst in. Figures swarmed the room, guns raised as they came thundering down the stairs, their voices shouting in a language that warmed the very depths of my soul. The shadows turned towards the intruders, reaching down towards their holsters before realising how futile their actions would be.
My six captors dropped slowly to their knees, hands raised above their heads as my compatriots came rushing towards me. Smiling, I raised my eyes as their red uniforms filled my view, their wide brimmed hats bobbed around and their golden crosses glinted as the light hit them. One figure in particular came across to me, cut the ropes that bound me to the chair and pulled me into an embrace.
'Diego' he breathed into my ear. 'It is so good to see you again after all this time'
I stepped back, looked into his eyes and smiled.
'Things never change Alejandro. Nobody ever expects The Spanish Inquisition'
--------------------------
Obligatory thankyou edit:
Thanks for the upvotes, comments and gold. This is only about the third or fourth prompt I've ever responded to, but the number I've written in my head is much higher. (I nearly didn't write this one)
If you're ever on the edge of responding or not, just do it. Your idea is probably a good one!
|
Sasha grabbed the orange and black 3 inchers out of her closet. Mr. Blaisemore had given them to her as a gift. They were Italian and horribly expensive. They also looked like pumpkins. Sasha hated them. They'd do just fine. Walking to the kitchen, she took the left shoe and smashed it heel-first across the counter. The heel snapped like a twig.
"Whoopsie me," sighed Sasha, tossing the broken shoe into her favorite over-sized purse and heading out the door, ordering a ride as she pressed the down button on the elevator.
The Uber driver took Sasha to a subway station ten blocks from her apartment. She took a train to the outskirts of town. A small Russian community, the streets were dotted with little boutiques and Russian markets. The cobbler's shop was next door to a liquor store. The boy at the counter asked what she needed.
Sasha dumped the broken heel out in front of the boy. "Piotr," she said.
"I can do it," said the boy, defensively.
"Piotr," repeated Sasha. The boy withered and shook his head, spinning off his stool and stomping into a back room.
Moments later, an old man hobbled out.
"Ah, *this* pretty lady," he said joyfully, hands clasped across his chest. His eyes went to the mangled shoe. "What a tragedy!"
"Went out on me," said Sasha with a smile.
The old man shook his head. "I meant the *color*. Blech. Tell me you did not buy this for yourself."
"You better believe it," said Sasha, following the old man as he motioned for her to join him in his workshop.
"This is no great work," he said. Then he spied his young assistant loitering in the workshop. "Out! Watch the desk."
"Shouldn't I watch you work?" asked the boy, self-consciously looking back and forth from the old man to Sasha.
"Privacy!" said the old man. "Let me woo this beautiful woman in peace!"
The boy nodded, red-faced, and darted out of the room.
The old man waited a beat. "So where did the shoe come from?"
"Blaisemore," said Sasha, taking a seat. "One of many gifts for all my good *work* with Senator Reeves."
"Da, the senator," said the old man, absently plucking the broken heel. "So... I suppose that means your *original* objective remains unfulfilled?"
Sasha pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut tight. "Yes. Obviously. But things are moving. Once this new Defense Funding package gets passed through the Senate, that wins me Blaiseman's trust. And his favor. That will increase the flow of information, which will improve my position with the Yakuza, which..."
"That is something the Motherland is not pleased with," said the old man abruptly. "They would like you to extricate yourself from that particular business. There are certain officials who view it as very distasteful."
Sasha rolled her eyes. "That isn't *possible*. I can't break the chain, Piotr. Not at any link. Tell them that. I didn't ask for things to get this complicated."
The old man nodded, wearily. "Fine. Yes. Well, it is them. Not me. I understand. You are building trust."
"The Magglieti Family placed me with the Yakuza to sew instability and degrade the organization from the inside," said Sasha. "If I abandon the Yakuza, I lose the Magglieti Family and everything behind that. I also lose Blaiseman and everything *in front* of that. Just let me do my job."
"But they do not care about Blaiseman or this senator or the Yakuza or mafia families or any of this," said the old man, waving the broken heel as punctuation. "A lot of money and resources were spent getting you inside the CIA. *That* is all they care about! American Intelligence! What do they see? What are they saying? More of this, dear Sasha."
Sasha snatched the heel out of the old man's hand, spun it around and held it up against his eye. "It's not that easy. CIA sent me inside the FBI. The FBI sent me inside the Magglietis. Trust, Piotr. *They* trust me. I'm seven layers down inside the rings of Hell, Piotr. All I ask is that the Motherland trust me as much as the enemy does. Do you see?"
The old man flinched away. "Fine, yes. So again there is nothing? You have ruined a shoe for no reason?"
"I hate those shoes. That's reason enough." Sasha shook her head. "Tell them this: there is a growing sense that war is coming. Some even believe it is inevitable."
The old man sighed. "That is not news."
"How about this: the United States will seed Crimea with arms and soldiers posing as aid workers. They aim to reclaim the peninsula, but make it look as though rebels have done all the work."
The old man leapt to his feet. "Are you serious? Soldiers posing as aid workers?"
Sasha nodded. The old man took a deep breath, then pulled out a brown paper bag and stuffed both pieces of the broken shoe inside. "I'll bill you," he said with a wink, handing over the paper bag.
Sasha shook the bag with a half-smile and walked out of the cobbler's shop. She was only two steps clear of the door when the apprentice came bounding out.
"Miss!" he called, before realizing she hadn't gotten very far. "You forgot to pay."
"Piotr said he would bill me," said Sasha coldly.
"Right," said the boy, nodding. He stuck an envelope into her hand. "Here it is. Pay within 30 days, okay?" Not waiting for a response, the boy raced back indoors, leaving Sasha standing outside the shop with an envelope in one hand and a paper bag full of broken shoe parts in the other. Walking around to the corner of the building, she tossed the broken shoe into a dumpster and then headed back to the subway station.
Once through the gate, she pulled out the envelope and cracked it open. Inside was a single picture. It showed a woman tied to a chair. It was her sister. The back of the picture was signed in a smeared Sharpie. It said, *Keep going. So close. Senator Reeves to Aeronautics Committee. AC has land grants. Close 100 Martian grants and Eliza is free. Much love, EM.*
Sasha swallowed hard, then crumpled the picture and stuffed it into her purse. So close. She was so close.
Just a few more steps and it was all over.
| 2016-10-26T21:45:42 | 2016-10-26T20:48:46 | 1,607 | 83 |
[WP] While you are touring China, you enter an ancient temple that supposedly blocks out evil spirits. When you enter you feel a sharp pain and a weight lift off your shoulders.
|
"Mr. President we can leave now. Xi is waiting for you outside," the aide was pointing frantically at his watch.
Donald felt lighter like he had in the 80s. The reserve of energy was there again. His back wasn't hurting.
"So this place is supposed to ward off evil spirits huh," Donald spoke to the translator who then spoke to the tour guide.
"Yes your excellency. It has a long history of changing men who enter."
The president tried to form an image of her in his mind but couldn't. Was she real? The cackling, the cackling he always heard in his mind was gone. It had been like a ringing but now all he could feel was the tranquility of the temple.
His aide interlocked his arm with his and tried to lead him away but the president kept his feet planted.
"I can't go out there Morty. She's out there."
"What Mr. President?"
"Morty, I think this place is blocking her out. The shrillness, it can't penetrate here."
"Um.. OK Mr. President. Are you feeling well?"
"Well? I've never felt better. I mean I felt good on election night thinking I would be free of her but then she came back... like a nightmare..."
"Are you referring to the former secretary of state sir?"
"Yes, of course I am. She's a demon I tell you a real piece of work. I can't go back out there. Make some excuse for me and tell Xi I'll call him later. I've got to think while I can."
"Um, OK Mr. President," the aide rushed out the door but not before whispering something to a security guard.
"I just need the nuclear football in here, a secure phone, maybe a nice oak desk, and... and a cot. I could live here."
"Mr. President we have to go. You're behaving irrationally," the head of his security detail and another agent had him by the arms.
"No! I will not leave here. She's out there... cackling somewhere. Always cackling!"
"Yes we think he's been drugged, bring up the med team stat!" the lead agent whispered into his sleeve.
|
"Everything hurts," I said.
"Shut up," said Jackson.
I was the pack mule. I didn't really *have* a choice and I knew it. If I had wanted a choice, they told me over and over, I should have said "no" back in Cambodia before I signed up for the Tour. I grumbled about this to myself, and my companion to my right grinned. She and I had been together since the border. She knew what this burden felt like.
Jackson shouted suddenly. My heart skipped a beat. Were we finally here?
"We've had a long trek. It's been two months since we set out from ***kkssshh***, and now the promised day has come." In hindsight, it should have been obvious that we had arrived, given that the entrance to the building was glowing. "We've all taken the preparations. Well, most of us."
Jackson pointedly glanced at us two.
"We will all receive our benediction. Each and every one of you has prepared. Each and every one of you is worthy. And so–"
*Fuck this.*
Before they could stop me, I made the decision.
I sprinted forward. Her jaw surely dropped beside me, but I didn't look back. Even with the pack on my shoulders, I could not – I *would* not – be denied the glory the rest of them sought. So before they could join me, I sprinted forward. Her jaw surely dropped beside me, but I was sure of my fate. Even with the pack on my shoulders, burdened as I was, I knew that heaven was within my grasp. I sprinted forward.
Her jaw surely dropped beside me. Each millisecond felt like an eternity. I smiled as I walked, ran, *flew* toward the door... and for a moment, it smiled back.
I sprinted forward.
Her jaw surely dropped beside me.
My fingers reached the entrance to the temple –
A gust of wind. The pack flew off my shoulders. A stabbing pain in my chest. I looked down. The arrow had pierced me just below the heart.
"We've all taken the preparations. Well, most of us."
I looked up. Jackson smiled at me.
| 2017-12-01T21:47:48 | 2017-12-01T21:46:04 | 82 | 13 |
[WP] A person dies in the first sentence. Build a character we mourn for in the story, but make me hate them with the last sentence.
|
She finally fell, colliding with asphalt and crunching sickeningly.
Twenty years earlier, she had been one of the brightest girls in her school. Intuitive, quiet, always the last to speak. Because of that patience, even at such a young age, people held her with a certain level of respect.
Of course, that quietness kept her separated from her peers. Children should run and scream, roll around and get messy. She would sit on a bench, and watch. Always watching.
This kept up for years, as she aged. And as she grew, so too did the gap between she and her peers.
Her mind was sharp where theirs were dull, her words held weight while theirs flew chaotically.
But she never resented them. She knew, even then, that it was just how they lived. And when they needed it, she would always have a word or two to spare, caring for the broken hearts, smiling at the bad jokes, crying for the missing and lost.
She cared for those that left well enough alone, and grew further.
Eventually, that presence attracted attention.
Her mother, widowed early into her marriage, struggled with finding jobs.
She understood her daughter's personality well enough to know that she was more adult than most.
And so the papers were forged, and the daughter was working full time. Suddenly school fell away, and peers started questioning.
"Where was she? Did she leave?"
She worked through the day and came home late. She made good money, not bad for a fourteen year old.
Eventually, though, school stopped altogether. She left her peers, her friends. She worked. She worked and worked and slept and worked.
Despite her best efforts, she started to burn out.
By eighteen, the stress had turned parts of her hair grey.
Cigarettes, a habit picked up to deal with her frustration, had stained her teeth yellow.
The money wasn't good enough anymore.
She was suddenly homeless.
Her mother fell ill, and she watched as the woman withered away.
Two years later, she met a man. He had a car, and a home, and arms made strong from years in the field. She felt no love for him, but they married.
Soon enough, a boy was had. A good boy, but unfortunately, there was an issue with his pregnancy. Cerebral palsy.
Bills piled up again.
The man sold his car, and their home grew emptier as they sold the unnecessary to pay for their son.
The man started meeting with some shadier friends, and soon enough, they were thrown into black market deals.
She still didn't say much.
Eventually, the man was arrested for possession, and locked away for years.
The boy was still alive, but bills were piling higher and higher.
Eight months old, such sweet blue eyes.
She would hold him every night before he rocked to sleep, held him during seizures, held him when he ate.
A beautiful child.
A beautiful child choked underneath cotton pillows.
|
I made my final peace with the world, and I couldn't help but smile as I pressed the trigger.
I don’t know how I came to this, probably inevitable. I hadn’t known my parents. My mother, from what I was told, a common street whore. My father, well I suppose it could be any number of a thousand different men who had their way with her. My youth was taken from me the day I was born. It’s amazing, really, that I made it this far. Some poor farmer found me on a doorstep in the back alley of the market and had pity on my soul. He and his wife did the best they could I suppose. It was only a matter of time before the drought came and forced them off the land. With no money and nowhere to go, they sold the only thing that had in the world worth anything, me. At the age of 5, I was forced into labor. Days upon weeks upon months of back breaking, physical punishment. A mining camp was no place for a child, but we were the only ones small enough to fit into the tiny crawl spaces to wire explosives. Too many times I saw flesh and limbs torn from the bodies of the other children, many of whom I had come to call friends. The tins roofs they put over our heads only slightly made up for the bed of dirt and mud we slept on. For years this was my life. No parents to hug me, no family to give love. I had resigned myself to this life until I met them. They were my age, fresh into camp, however a bit older than the boys usually brought in. They were different though. Our masters treated them differently, gave them better housing, better clothes, more food, and they inturn, gave these things to us. We looked up to them. For months this went on, we all became so close, I considered them family. Then one day, the guards told us our time was up. I had seen this before, kids aging out I always took it to be. I had nowhere to go, so when they asked if I would come with them, I naturally obliged. I was taken to a large house. I was bathed, fed, nourished, and loved. The elders in the house began teaching us, they taught us and loved us like we were the only thing that mattered in the entire world. They told us of a world beyond this one, where children like us ran, and played, and there were no mines and there was no dirt. There was no death, but only love and we would be surrounded by it forever. Then it was my time and it was said that those I brought with my on my journey, would follow me and be with me and love me forever. I wanted to bring with me the friends I never had when I was younger, so I found the biggest school I could. I waited until there were more children than I could count, took off my jacket, and pressed the trigger for the bomb strapped to my chest.
| 2015-01-29T13:03:42 | 2015-01-29T13:01:52 | 36 | 17 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search
|
How to impress a woman if you don't have money
Average penis size
Natural ways to increase penis length
Penis pumps do they work?
Painful swelling of penis how to heal?
Fast ways to lengthen your penis -pump
Average cost of male enlargement pills
Discount penis enlargement pills for sale cheap
Credit cards
Credit cards for people with no credit history
How to build credit?
How to build credit fast?
Alternative ways to lengthen penis +free
Weight hanging
How much weight is too much when hanging things from penis
Tips for attaching weight to penis
How to stop bleeding
Tourniquet techniques
Emergency room directions
|
Facebook
Tumbler
Spanish Inquisition
Google Translate
Jobs in Appleton, WI
*Clear History*
Calc chat
Facebook
Best way to hide bruises
*Clear History*
Cheap Bus tickets
Cheap apartments Appleton WI
Emancipated Minor?
*Clear History*
Gmail
Tumblr
Counseling confidentiality rules for minors
Free Counseling services
*Clear history*
-Month Later-
Gmail
Job Appleton, WI
Homeless shelters Appleton, WI
Free Counseling?
| 2015-02-04T16:58:26 | 2015-02-04T16:52:51 | 555 | 46 |
[WP] It's the year 3000, and Galactic civilization has fallen. Kings rule vast kingdoms. Knights charge into battle on horseback. But the starships still work, those were built to last.
Edit: Apparently I'm not the first one to think of this concept.
|
"I'm dying Kala. I've been dying for the last thousand years."
Kala could feel the grief within him. He had fought for a score of years, more than any man had the right to survive and now, as he sat on his throne, he turned to the one constant in his life to find out she was leaving him. It wasn't right. He was on his feet in an instant, his age nothing compared to his rage.
"You will not. I command it! You will not leave my kingdom. You will not leave me."
She came closer. In all his years he had never seen her feet beneath the cloak she wore, nor heard her footsteps on the granite. The night she had come to him he had been perched on the battlements, looking out between the crenels at the stars moving across the sky. She had simply appeared next to him, like an invisible wind. When he reached for her... Such things were not for mortal men to understand.
And when his predecessor had ordered the men to war, she had been with him. She taught him swordsmanship. Told him which plants to salve his wounds. And still she was beyond his grasp.
The old king died and a new one rose. Kala had fought with him and now he fought for him. His rank grew. She whispered knowledge into his ear and his men listened to his tongue. They did not see her. No-one did. Not the women he bedded nor the nags he rode in on. As her knowledge of tactics and leadership and weaponry and politics grew within him, like snuff residue on gums, he began to advise the king.
And when the day came, and she whispered to him "do it now", he had driven his sword through the mad kings heart and taken the throne for himself.
She was not malevolent. She was no witch. She had let him lose, be hurt, and in turn helped him hurt those who needed to be stopped. She was a spirit. On great ships in the sky she laid her head to rest. He had been there, once. Only once. An arrow had pierced his leather on the fields of Valero; the metal biting through flesh so that he could feel his heart beat against it.
She had come to him then, wrapping him in light and he had awoken in a world of polished steel. She was alone she had told him. Utterly alone. The crew of her home had long since perished. Only she remained. A mind, built by man, but not of flesh. She had watched kingdoms come and go.
Kala had known she would outlast him. As certain as the tides, his reign would pass and she would help another soul to bring peace to the land. She would be with him to the end.
"I can't rule without you."
"You have ruled for many years now, long ago you learnt all you needed. I am of no use to you now."
"But you are not real!" he shouted, hating the anguish that flew across her face at the words. "I mean only your face does not grow lined. Your hair today is as fine as it was when you first came to me on the East walls."
"The ship that carries my mind will continue and in time another will take my place. It is my mind Kala that grows weary. I have learnt too much, seen too many things. I cannot go on without sacrificing the ships my creators built."
She drifted closer, running hands of light against his stubbled chin. "Oh how I wish I could feel your skin," she whispered softly.
"I thought you would outlast my line," he muttered. Kala closed his eyes as if he could feel her touch.
"I have held on for far too long already. Njet was to be my last charge, but when I saw you, looking up at my home. I have followed you for so long. When I am gone, do not grieve brave King Kala," she said. "Think only of the heavens. Rejoin your ancestors."
When he opened his eyes she had gone.
|
"*I WANT a hero: an uncommon want,*
*When every eon pass'd sends forth a new one,*
*Till, after cloying the planettes with cant,*
*The age discovers he is not the true one;*
*Of such as these I should not care to vaunt,*
*I'll therefore take our ancient friend Don Jaden--*
*We all have seen him, in the pantomime,*
*Sent to Outer Space somewhat ere his time."*
Don Jaden rode forth from his castle upon his ostrichorse. He was going out in search of a quest. Long had it been since war came to the planet Hubbard, and the inheritor of the great seat Jaden was growing restless for adventure. Thus did he ride out with his squire Will O, intending to find one of the Fields of the Ancients.
Don Jaden and Will O rode long and hard together, passing through the forests and the swamps of their fetid home planet.
In the forest, Don Jaden saved Will O from the descendants of an ancient race of gentically engineered lice. The giant insects, known as hairwhips, could rip a man's scalp off in one swoop. But Don Jaden had no fear as the buzzing hairwhips moved back and forth through the forest. He cut them down with his broadsword until the remainder retreated in fear.
Then they came to the swamp of the Mirrormists, where Will O returned the favor. Don Jaden was trapped like so many before him by those ancient and arcane mists, wondering what was real and what was hallucination. But Will O remembered the ancient words of wisdom, and, keeping his wits about him, shouted:
"How can the Mirrormists be real if our eyes aren't real?"
The words of the prophets brought Don Jaden back to his senses. Leaving that nightmarish place behind them, they rode on through the swamp on their ostrichorses.
Eventually they came to it: the Field of the Ancients. It was a black expanse of rock in the middle of the Hubbardian countryside. And in the center rose three great obelisks -- the fabled starships. Means of conveyance to strange planets and heathen, places where the Holy Word of Smithentology was unknown.
Without fear, our two heroes approached the nearmost starship. To their surprise, the door opened as they approached, as if animated by some demon.
They had not come all this way to be discouraged by a demon. So they went in. All around them was an array of buttons and levers.
"Ho, Will O," sayeth Don Jaden, "the ancient stories say that the Astronauts used these steel beasts to travel the stars. And yet, we have not been lifted skyward thus far. Perhaps we need to do something else. . ."
So saying, he grabbed a lever and pulled down on it. And as luck would have it, it was the right one. A loud, rumbling "whoosh" began to fill the obelisk. Experimenting, Don Jaden reached out and pushed another button. And his luck had not run out, for that button lifted them into launch. Will O exclaimed and Don Jaden could not contain his shout as they felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pits of their stomachs.
Then they were off, through the sky, to the stars!
Yes, the starships were built to last millennia. That didn't help much, though, if no one knew how to use them. It was only by pure luck that Will O and Don Jaden had managed to make the thing work.
But now, their luck had run out. They knew nothing of space travel, and of course they did not check to see if any heavenly bodies were in their launch path. What's more, they were not trained astronauts.
So Don Jaden and Will O were dead long before their starship crashed into one of Hubbard's moons.
| 2015-10-03T07:42:07 | 2015-10-03T07:37:52 | 487 | 51 |
[WP] Cause of death appears to you as floating text over people's heads with no time indication. You start noticing a trend.
edit: thank you for all the truly great stories, and for taking this in directions I didn't expect.
|
What was so unsettling was the *detail*.
He scribbled down the woman's death in his battered little book.
"Blunt forced trauma: Swelling of the cranial tissues: Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death."
Medication did nothing. His doctors informed him it was quite an unusual delusion. He'd asked how they were always right. They'd informed him that his delusion just adapted to what happened after the fact. His memories were somehow part of it all. Brains could be fucked up.
Still, it always ended the same way. Lack of oxygen to the brain. Death.
They were delicate little things. We are delicate little things.
He would have told people, so they could corroborate him. But that wasn't often the best way to keep friends, and he wasn't very good at the whole friends thing even if he wasn't asking them to remember lists of how people were going to die.
The natural conclusion was to write it down.
He gazed around the train's carriage and picked out another. There wasn't much point of course, he didn't know these people. He couldn't use them to prove himself when they died. He wouldn't know if they did. Still... It had grown into a habit. It helped him forget, once it was recorded.
"Severed femoral artery: Loss of blood: Cardiac arrest. Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Annother violent one. Usually there were a few cancers, spontaneous Cardiac arrests or strokes. He'd found an overall 12.3% chance of "accidental" death. He turned in his seat to glance back down the rows of people.
"Crushed Chest: Asphyxiation: Lack of oxygen to the brain: Death."
Another. More Blunt force. Annother severed artery. Burns...
Everyone in this carriage. Every single...
*Oh.*
The train lurched. Jolted. His head cracked into the side. Trains shouldn't move sideways. The was a squeal of metal on metal drowned out the screams.
For a moment up and down were interchangeable. Cans, cups of coffee, bags of luggage and twisted figures were flung into the air and slammed into the wall in an explosion of movement.
He saw as the window burst inwards and a shapeless mass of steel slammed into him.
Huh. So it was one of those.
Didn't really hurt. But then, he'd never expected it to. Never sounded like it hurt.
He could feel the blood pumping out, warm down his side as the dust settled in a sudden eerie silence. His breath caught, fast and shallow. Which first, the blood or the air? Same thing in the end.
Lack of oxygen to the brain.
He could feel himself slipping away.
Death.
|
It stopped bothering me after I hit thirty.
After a while, you just do what you can to help them avoid their fate, and it becomes second nature.
Woman with the death sentence
> CHOKES TO DEATH DRINKING A VODKA AND COKE
while drinking a vodka and coke
Will have her drink stolen, smashed on the floor, and then I run.
I have been jailed multiple times.
I have recieved multiple ASBOs, and been warned and warned and fined. My life is a wreck, but I have been kept going by donations and inheritances to me, good natured people who set up funds to me before they die, in return for me having saved their lives at some point.
I am a good person, even if the nature of my existence means I must be a jackass who ruins people's day to make sure they live even a single day longer (if they seem to want that.). It doesn't help that I look a bit middle eastern due to my mum's side of the family being from that away. White people don't seem trust people who look naturally browner than them and have bushy eyebrows and curly hair, especially if they get all up in one's grill about them smoking nearby children.
But then I took a flight to NewYork. Holiday.
At first, it was fine. Ensured five people didn't die of starvation by sneaking a few dollars in their pockets.
Prevented a person choking on their toothbrush by stealing their toothbrush.
On the plane, winked at the stewardess, causing her death to change. I refuse to say what she was originally going to die of, but suffice it to say
> PAINLESS HEART FAILURE (AGE)
was an improvement.
But then, after the plane hit 3,000 the death sentences started to shift, and twist,
and every single one just had three letters and one word.
> CRASH WTC
WTC... World Trade Centre? How could it change without my influ- what.
As the arab man got up, the death sentences pulsed, and I got the sense that if I could see my own sentence, it would also say
> CRASH WTC
like the rest of the people on this plane.
I felt dizzy from the pulsating words I could not unsee, and got up, and flailed, trying to hit the shouty man with my iPod, not the best weapon to pick but it was what I had,
and the sensation of a ceramic blade entering my right
lung
and
the words
> STABBED BY KNIFE
appeared
i
n
my
v
i
s
i
o
n
a
b
o
v
e
me
| 2015-03-31T11:46:09 | 2015-03-31T11:33:24 | 71 | 18 |
[WP] You are a B-list superhero on the verge of losing your job. During a battle with a villain, you accidentally end up killing one of the most prolific superheros of your time. That's when you realize that with your niché power that was useless as a hero, you could be an A-list supervillain.
|
I'm a lucky guy.
No, seriously, I have a superpower that makes me lucky. How do you define luck? If I had to put it vaguely, it has to do with causality. I can only put it vaguely. There's no scientifically concrete way to explain it. The cosmos, luck, the force, divine intervention. However you want to describe it, things work out in my favor. All I have to do is want them to. You probably think I'm crazy, but this has been tested so much it has honestly gotten boring.
The eggheads give me games of chance to play. I play a bunch of games where I don't want to win. That gives them a statistical w/l ratio. Then, they have me use my ability. 100% success rate. Just like that, the word "random" ceases to exist.
Sounds great, right? The richest man on earth, here I come! Except, no.
Turns out the powers that be keep a sharp eye on the world. When a guppy like me shows up and starts to make waves, big fish notice. This is the harrowing tale of how I was targeted by a supervillain, the forces of justice saved me, and I joined their ranks.
Just kidding.
I actually got caught in Vegas after a very profitable roulette run. They noticed within two or three casinos even though I took care not to visit places even remotely close to each other. I have to wonder if maybe the tables were supposed to be rigged and that's how they got me. Pretty fishy if you ask me.
Anyway, these guys in suits showed up at my hotel room and made it very clear that there was only one option where I kept breathing. Why didn't I use my power? That's the really terrifying part. I did! So the only option really was to just surrender. No invincibility or super-healing here. Just plain old flesh and blood.
So for the past couple of years, I've been working as a superhero. It's not like I've had a choice, really. I live in their headquarters and go on "missions" with them. They call me Lucky because people who wear underwear outside their clothes are brilliant. They drag me along and have me use "get lucky" to defuse bombs or cause weapons to backfire. Other than that I'm a pretty normal "Extra." These guys get all of the credit. So much so that they've started to say they don't need me anymore. That's a problem for me.
If these guys ditch me, they aren't going to just let me go. They've got a tracker and explosive device in my skull. I'll never get to live lavishly or enjoy my gift. It's not like I do here, with the petty role I'm given.
I have a plan, though.
You see, my ability comes at a cost. We'll call it "karma" just because I want to. For every bit of positive "karma" I create, there is also negative "karma" created. I've been building this stuff up for a while. I used to just throw it off on some unsuspecting ass. It's been feeling kind of full so I threw a little off on Lightning, our resident fast guy. He's kind of a douche so I thought it would be funny to see him trip at supersonic speeds. Holy shit! Not only did he trip, he did it into a void beam. A foot wide swath of the guy disappeared right across his chest.
All of the A-listers freaked out. I told them I was focusing on keeping bystanders alive at the time and missed it. Nobody knows I dumped bad luck on him. How could they? They're sure warming up to keeping me around, though. Six-figure income warm.
I'm a lucky guy.
|
"Watch out!" Perry said, tackling Gaseous to the ground. A red sedan skipped across the bridge, brushing past Perry's feet and into the water below.
Two bulky feet landed next to them. Perry looked up to see a tan bodybuilder holding a section of pavement above her head. Rock sediment bounced off her bald head while she gritted her teeth.
"Seismic, don't do this!" Perry pleaded.
"You left me no choice."
"You always have a choice. You don't have to be a villain."
"And join you? After what you did to me?"
Gaseous coughed, still pinned to the ground by Perry. He tried to sneak out, but Perry was laying on his lime green cape.
"What did Perry do?" Gaseous asked.
"He ditched me in the middle of our meal." Seismic said.
"I had a family emergency." Perry said to Gaseous.
"The hell you did. You went to the bathroom and never came back. And I thought our date was going well."
"Your profile said athletic, I didn't expect…"
"Expect what?" she said, her grip tightened on the slab of pavement above her head.
"I didn't expect you to be bigger than the gym rats that ate creatine and dumbbells for every meal."
She slammed the slab of pavement onto them. Perry and Gaseous groaned in pain while she jumped up and down on top of it. Gaseous felt a rumble in his stomach.
"Perry. I can't hold it much longer. You need to lift this off of us."
"I can't. She's...too...heavy."
Gaseous winced and tightened his butthole. He strained every muscle he could to hold it in, but it was no use. He let out a fart that sounded more like an air horn and a green cloud of gas consumed them. Seismic jumped off the pavement slab and ran away coughing.
"Perry. Hold your breath." Gaseous said, trying to squirm his way out.
Perry coughed uncontrollably, unable to stop the gas from entering his lungs. Gaseous wiggled himself out from underneath the pavement slab and reached back in to grab Perry, but it was too late. Perry started convulsing, banging his head on the pavement above and below him. The rest of his body shook a little, unable to move anywhere. Gaseous grabbed Perry's arm once his body went limp and pulled him out. With a few tugs he was free...at least half his body was.
Gaseous fell down, holding the torn upper torso of Perry in his lap. How was he going to explain this to his boss? He was already on thin ice after the fish market disaster. Perry was going to be the final nail on the coffin of his career. Perry wasn't just some B-list bargain hero. He was a trailblazer. He didn't even have a gimmick name. It was just Perry. Everyone adored this guy on the west side.
Gaseous rolled Perry's body off of him and tried to rub off the blood over his crotch, ruining his white suit. The gas still lingered over the slab as police sirens whined in the distance. With his career over, a thought rolled into his mind. His gas was deadly. He spent so long harnessing his power to knock out people, he forgot there was another setting. One that could make him an A-lister in the villain circles.
He smiled as the police squads approached him. His butthole tightened again, stomach rumbling. This was his moment. To show the City there was a new villain in town. And his name was Gaseous.
| 2021-04-14T07:33:00 | 2021-04-14T05:26:13 | 367 | 88 |
[WP]You’re a human stranded on an alien planet. The locals are sapient, but have a lifespan of only about six months. After dozens of generations (about a decade), you’ve managed to make quite a name for yourself.L
|
"Grok nyr Krevassi, doryn yi"
I am The Chronicle, and time is not my master.
But really, I'm just Larry. It's been what seems another man's lifetime since I was just Larry, with luck against me and hopes running thin when my ship went down & I crash landed on this strange little rock. I was just a maintenance tech in a small crew aboard the KT-1, liked my coffee black and my novels long. Those days are over now, and I've managed to become something else here. At this point I don't know if this place is shaping me or I've been shaping it.
I could start at The Beginning, but as I'm writing this I realize anyone who finds this wouldn't live long enough to read the whole of it. So I will tell you of what I have become.
I am The Chronicle, and time is not my master. The short lives of the people here are etched into my flesh with 'tela cora', or if by some minuscule chance a human is reading this, with 'spoken light'. The people of this place live exactly six months and then retire to The Beginning to start over in another time and space. Their histories dance across my skin like candle's flickering flame, shifting and expanding to be read before being whisked away into minute little sparks moving over me. It is my duty to record the lives of everyone here so that they may learn and grow as a people, as I'm the only human among the Yori.
Daylight is exactly fifteen minutes here, and when the dak reni (shadowcast) steals it away there is thirty minutes of darkness. There is no moon here, just an odd sort of half-light with no source, and everyone that can afford it carries coradonas (light stones) about their foreheads that react to the dak reni and give off a soft light to guide them through the night.
As I write this my coradona is guiding my hand through another seven minutes of shadow, and when it ends another Long Day will begin with the retirement of another generation. So, I leave you here, as I will have much work to do, and lives to write.
|
14 years... 14 God damn years I've been stuck here! For whatever reason these things only live for roughly 6 months then die. They've been astounded by me since I crashed here after I lost control from that space prick Callhoun. I thankfully haven't seen on in years because I've been in hiding. Hopefully for them it means I'm now a myth like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. They have an earth sized planet but for some reason are about 6 inches tall. Also, I may have wiped out a city or 2 when I arrived so they've been in fear of me.
I've seen them on their version of TV discussing me and if I even exist or if I'm fake. Great, I'm a conspiracy theory... Hey mum, I made it I guess!
Food was hard to come by to begin with, but I've gotten use to the taste of their animals, if you could even call them that. Recently, I've grown curious what the inhabitants taste like but if I show myself, they might try to defend themselves...
I've also been trying to fix my ship but it doesn't seem to work because I ruined it when I crashed and it was already old 14 years ago when I crashed. I left plenty behind on my home planet... Family, friends, the love of my life. I look up into space and wonder if they're doing the same.
If anyone finds this recording, please, find my girlfriend Candice, give her the tape. She needs to know I never forgot her, and thought somehow, someway, she'd come rescue me. Sure I gave up hope but there was still a sliver of hope in the back of my mind but it was very quiet...
Candice, I love you and I always have! If you've moved on, I don't blame you... If you haven't, go live your life. I don't think I'm getting off this hellhole planet ever so I think I'm gonna live out my days by taking over this place and making myself their God. I've ran out of fucks to give... They're gonna bow to me, or die. Simple.
| 2019-04-22T08:13:09 | 2019-04-22T06:41:10 | 88 | 66 |
[WP] Time freezes for everyone around you each time your life is in danger, leaving only you able to move until you are no longer in danger. One day time freezes, but you can't figure out why, until..
I hope its not too vague, first writing prompt ^^ enjoy
Thank you all so much for the responses it's so much fun to read them :)
|
Hmm.
 
Okay, so there's danger nearby.
 
Bollocks, I was really wanting to hear the end of that story. Now mother just looks like a special needs child with her jaw wide open.
 
Well, lets figure out what it is this time. A quick scan of the cafe and no one here seems threatening. It's a Wednesday afternoon for gods sake, they're all old and decrepit. Note to self; retirement looks fun.
 
Quiet outside, barely any traffic. No loud noises. No planes falling out of the sky. No crazy weather. The ground isn't shaking. We're miles away from any ocean. Hmm.
 
The fuck is it? I mean, it doesn't usually take this lon- Fuck. That's sore. What is that? Jesus Christ. Okay this fucking hurts. Pain. Lots of it. Am I having a fucking heart attack?!
 
CALL AN AMBULA-. No one can hear me. FUCK. Shit shit, what do I do, what do I do. FUCK. Mother, help me. Please HELP ME.
 
I was on the floor. Hands grabbing my heart. A sudden realisation sank in. I'm going to die. I'm going to die in front of my mother and she doesn't even know it. The pain became unbearable.
 
I'M SORRY MOM, I'M SO SO SORRY. FORGIVE ME.
 
Tears rolled down my face. She just sat there with her jaw wide open, mid sentence.
|
It has happened your entire life. You first noticed the time stops while riding your bike at 13. Trying to impress the cute girl in school you had tried riding down the locally imfamous "suicide hill" which crossed over a fairly busy road at the end. You noticed the semi truck to late and before you knew what happened you were lying in the road with the truck bearing down on you... until it wasn't.
It has happened a couple of times after that, but how often Is the life of an accountant really in jeapordy? However this time was different.
It had been days without any movement from anyone. When it happened you were sitting at your desk eating lunch and figured you were about to choke on that salad. By the way choking is terrifying because you continue to choke and no one can help you lodge it free, but luckily you learned how to fix it yourself.
Anyway, as you looked around and continued to eat you realized that nothing was happening. Time stood still and after a while you just decided to head home.
It has been this way for a long time... well technically it hasn't been because time is frozen but for you it has felt like forever. It didn't take long to come to the conclusion that the world was ending... or you were dying.
You were stuck, forever. Faced with one choice, one decision. Live forever with the world stuck in place, or end your life and risk destroying the entire world. Either way, you would never know the truth.
| 2017-06-21T08:47:55 | 2017-06-21T07:56:10 | 42 | 21 |
[WP] You’re immortal. The only problem is, you’ve lived so long humanity died out and a new intelligent species evolved. Now you’re forced to live in the forest as a cryptid.
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"There goes the neighborhood," I muttered, packing up my few belongings as the land-squid construction workers flattened the section of forest I'd been living in for nigh on eight thousand years. I'd known they were going to be trouble ever since they crawled their way out of the ocean some two million or so years ago, but I hadn't had the heart to do anything about it back then. After all, I figured, maybe they would reinvent video games, forgetting too easily that progress sometimes also entailed giving nature a good thumping.
I found myself entering a particularly ancient section of the forest a few days later, when it happened. When I ran into freaking Bigfoot. Literally, I was rubbernecking, not looking where I was going, and smacked right into the big, hairy brute. "Watch your step!" he growled at me.
"Uh, my apologies... Bigfoot," I stammered out. "Wait, ARE you Bigfoot?"
The creature sighed deeply and nodded. "Yes, and as you've no doubt already surmised, I'm in much the same boat as you. Last of my kind, doomed to walk the Earth forevermore, or until the sun just burns the bloody thing out from underfoot. Let me guess: some new riffraff went and decided to make themselves a nuisance, and now you're seeking refuge?" He rolled his eyes. "Very well. I suppose I've been expecting this, because I already have my guest tree all ready for you. Come along."
"Guest tree?" I asked, confused.
Bigfoot looked vaguely offended. "Well, I'm not about to let you stay with me in MY tree," he said. "I assure you, it's quite comfortable. I have been working with wood since long before your kind left Africa, you know."
"Oh, cool," I said, not really knowing what else to say as I followed him. "Wait, how did you know I'd be coming here? How do you even know about me?"
"When you first moved into the neighborhood all those thousands of years ago, I knew it was because those sea creatures had begun to grasp concepts like agriculture and construction, and their budding civilization had driven you away from your old home on the coast. As to how I know about you, well, I figured what happened to me would happen to one of you humans after you threw around all those ghastly nuclear weapons, so I just kept a close watch on your kind's shattered cities until I saw you -- just a decade or two after everyone else snuffed it, that would have been -- and I've been keeping tabs on you ever since."
Being told by Bigfoot that he'd been stalking me for several million years was more than a little jarring. "How come I never saw you? I would have liked someone to talk to, at the least."
"Apologies, but I'm usually a very private being. And I'm a better hider than I am a woodworker." Bigfoot didn't sound very apologetic.
My eyes narrowed. "If you're so good at hiding, how come you ended up caught on camera so many times?"
"You mean like this?" He struck a pose, one I instantly recognized from one of the more famous Bigfoot videos. "To be perfectly frank, I'd been bored out of my skull for decades, and wanted to... how did your people phrase it? Ah, yes, I wanted to troll people, and I succeeded far beyond my wildest dreams." He sighed again, relishing the memory as I could only look on in utter shock. He then gave me an inquisitive look. "Say...do you suppose those squid fellows have invented moving film yet?" He grinned, a very mischievous look on his face, and rubbed his palms together. "Oh yes, and with two of us, this will be twice as fun!"
|
A tale as old as time, for tales and time had by the humans been invented. A legend as legendary as any, if not more, for it had been the object of the ramblings of many of them.
As soon as the human was dumb enough to think it became numbingly aware of it’s own fragility, and with that foolishness came the nonstop search for a way to break what seemed like a universal constant.
Mistakes were made, for the thing that we had assumed meant our ultimate weakness: death; was in fact our ally.
The beauty we were most afraid of losing, that of our own lives, was only so beautiful for how it’s end made us appreciate it.
Not long after we patched that one ultimate weakness did we realize it was in fact our greatest strength, while it made the origin of our fears, it also made us thrive. While staying on the background, it drove us forward. While it made us grieve, it also made us find new motivations.
For so long it was our ally, and yet we betrayed it.
As people began to lose their taste for life, as they began to forget its value, as they began to take it for granted, they acquired an attraction to death.
What we so long had fought against suddenly became a commodity.
By the billions, at that point maybe even trillions, while untimely we were finally meeting the ending we were supposed to meet.
I made a vow, a pretty stupid one at that, yet I have, after who knows how many thousands of years, taken it to fruition.
Had the time come when I, the last human to roam the earth was, should I remain roaming it until the knowledge regarding the gift that death is to life was given to the next foolish civilization to that tried to betray it.
And so I lived without living, absorbed to my own thoughts. Long enough to see the concrete crack to the roots of trees. Long enough to see the trees outgrow each other and then die and get petrified. Long enough to see the sun go from yellow to orange and then red. Long enough to think for a few times that I had died, then come back to life.
It’s easy to lose count of time when time is so irrelevant. So it might as well have been one day or a few hundred eons since I became the last one here until the day the starship arrived.
Compared to the time my thoughts had gone on for themselves, it was quite fast to learn the language these beings used.
The image of what we had once been and what I now was became all they needed to realize that death is there for life as much as life is there for death.
They were finally gone long before I met my end, engulfed by the calm anger of the sun’s hunger being satisfied by the remains of what both civilizations had been and everything else earth could offer.
Ironic isn’t it? That it is just now, at my very last moment, after the eons of conversations with myself, that I realize the terrible selfishness of us sentient beings. Thinking that life is for us, that it is ours to enjoy and suffer. At the end of everything life and death, sweet and sour, grief and joy, are all nourishment for the stars. All the evil and all the good, all the suffering and all the happiness; they don’t make a difference for the universe, for the universe is big, and it enriches itself regardless of what it feeds on.
Life and death weren’t for us to play with from the beginning, as it was the universe planning and executing everything with subatomic precision to nourish itself. For the universe itself is alive, and it finds death as beautiful as life, and unlike we did, it has embraced its inevitable death from the very beginning.
In the end what seemed like a universal constant was indeed so.
| 2021-05-14T22:06:26 | 2021-05-14T20:47:48 | 34 | 12 |
[WP] in a feudal world, every warrior's skill is reflected in their blade, the bigger the blade, the less skilled, one day you meet someone carrying just a hilt
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The stranger smiled, broken teeth and wear from a long and weary life on the road. His clothes were dusty and patched, the soles of his boots had to be as worn as the rest of him. The man with just a hilt stared deeply at me, the maniac grin on his face one that struck fear into my heart. I'd fought many men, hell, even a man with just a rapier, this roamer scared me more than any man with a toadsticker ever could.
I drew my blade, a thin damascene piece of steel. I'd had it forged and reforged since the day my daddy had passed his Zweihander down to me. It had been cut practically in half as I climbed in ranks, and I aimed to walk a life with a razor edge and not much else. I was determined to get better than anyone else in the land.
The wild man drew, spinning the hilt in his hands. I braced myself for it, perhaps this was the day I got to see my daddy and his maker. "How could a crazy looking fool with no blade be so fast?" I asked myself. He rapidly approached me, breakneck speed screaming and raving the whole time. I'll admit it, I felt like a true coward when I flinched. The man was closing in and it didn't seem there was a damn thing I could do about it. 25, 20, 15, 10, 5 yards. The dusty traveler was gonna kill me, it's all I knew. As I pictured the glory and riches and women I was never going to have chance to gather, my heart stopped.
The man tripped over a rock.
The imbecile tripped over a god damn rock two feet from my face. It was then that I realized that he was no messiah, no god of the art of the blade, no Miyamoto Musashi or Roland. He didn't wield the Masamune or La Tizona, he was an idiot whose blade was too damn big and had fallen off into the wastes decades ago, left to wonder ever since.
That was the day that I took my blade and walked the long dusty road home to become a baker, because I'll be damned if a man without a blade can strike fear into the heart of a swordsman.
|
I am Fuma, I live with my sword. It is not the largest of them, and that is good. I remember the time I yearned to get a narrower blade. It took my sweat and blood under years of training deep within the mountains. For this I got up at the break of dawn and slept only when the animals of the night went silent as well. Carrying mountain rock to build my hut and digging a channel down to get water. This, alongside years of training has made me a powerful samurai. Many people have come to my door to challenge me, with blades narrower than mine. These I beat and I learned from, taking their swords for my own and waiting for the next challenger to arrive.
One day I was drinking my tea when I hear the sound of footsteps, looking up I see a stranger, one in colours not of the local lords, nor of even the king. Yet they were much simpler, just brown and long, with clothe that hung loosely.
*Name yourself, and speak your purpose.*
*You may call me Mai of the Windu clan. I have come to see your skill and hope to refine mine.*
*Are you expecting me to reveal my secrets?*
*No, I am just here to prove my skill is better.*
*You challenge me then? A duel to the death.*
*That I do.*
I lead him to my garden, where we will fight, and where I shall be victorious once again. I pull out my sword, narrower than the edge of a paper. He takes out a stone, no. That is the hilt, but it is strange and has no blade attached. I blink. He makes no move. I charge and I see fire come from his blade.
We fight, but he is stronger. I run, but he is quicker. I must ask him when I beat him where I can get a sword so strong. But then he hits me and I fly backwards. I do not understand how it works at all. I had not been able to ask how he learned such swordsmanship. I am a disgrace.
----
Thanks for reading! I'd love to hear comments and constructive criticism. Also check out /r/Rietty for my other submissions in the future.
| 2015-02-25T11:44:56 | 2015-02-25T11:33:09 | 483 | 34 |
[WP] It is tradition that on your 18th birthday you are joined by a small magical creature, much like a familiar, to aid you in the rest of your life. When you wake on your 18th birthday and find yours sitting by you on the bed, you are.... disappointed, to say the least.
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I expected something... else.
Darv, the hunter next door got a direwolf, one that helped him track game day after day in the forest. Sis got a pixie, helping her knit yarn together into product.
Come to think of it, everyone's familiar helped them with what they did.
Maybe I shouldn't be surprised.
Mother certainly will.
I sigh and turn to regard the floating bottle of lotion and box of tissues next to me.
|
When they said "small magical creature" , I cleraly dodn't expected this. Bit now, all things considered, I could get something much, much worse. Also, I don't know how will this help me in my life, but now I have it.
Well, my little friend, from now on you will be Remi, Remi the Spider familiar.
| 2018-07-24T03:53:52 | 2018-07-23T23:14:22 | 80 | 13 |
[WP] You look into the mirror but you see no one. You panic but then you see yourself still sitting down, reading. Your reflection then notices you. "Ah dammit!" She hastily goes to match you but she knows it's futile. "Uhm. Just forget about that okay?" she asks.
|
..Huh?
I blink. Still no one. I blink again. Okay, this is getting stupid. I pinch my nose shut and try to breathe through it. Doesn't work. Okay, not a dream either. I consider every possibiltiy but can come to no logical conclusion as to why the man in the mirror is-
Wait. Is that me? In the mirror? Sitting on my mirrored bed? Reading a mirrored book? And- oh crap, has he just noticed me? Or, err, have I just noticed me?
They quickly ditch the book and run up to the mirror and to my exact pose. I blink again. All is normal. No way. I haven't gone insane, right? Bullshit. I wave my hand, but mirror-me replicates it perfectly. I pretend to walk away only to turn around unexpectedly, but mirror-me does the same.
Eventually, they cave: "Uh, okay.. sorry, just forget about that, okay?"
I swear I am going insane.
"What the fuck?"
No response. I consider just walking away, getting some sleep and hopefully forgetting everything once I wake up. But at the same time..
"Nuh uh. Tell me whats going on here." I say to the mirror, and the mirror mouths back to me.
I stand there for a few minutes, awaiting a response. They know they're not getting out of this one, so they respond.
"Okay, fine. What do you want?" Suddenly their posture drops, they no longer follow my movement and they stand there very casually. The charade is over.
"Who are you?"
"The man in the mirror, duh."
"Are you the man in every mirror?"
"No, just this one."
"What if the mirror broke? Like, into two pieces? Would you be the man in both?"
"What if I seperated your brain hemispheres and put each half into a different skull? Who would be you?"
"Uhh.."
"Exactly."
Well, this was unsettling. My mirror self just made my skin crawl. But I want to know more. This is huge. Or a really vivid trip. Anyways.
"So does every mirror have one mirror person or does every human have one mirror counterpart?"
"Look man, I really would like to get back to work. It's already bad enough that we're having this conversation."
"Okay, one last thing."
"Ugh."
"Are you me?"
"No, but I can look like you. I can look like anyone."
"Is this like your job? Are you a shapeshifter?"
"You said only one thing."
"Please."
"Yeah, it is basically my job. There are a lot of things in your world that seem like science but are actually controlled manually by us."
"Who is 'us'?"
"Im serious, if I keep talking to you then they might-"
Suddenly, an unimaginable shape appears behind them. I turn around, but its only in the mirror. The shape, I'm not sure what color it is or how to describe it, morphs into a muscular man in a black suit upon noticing my presence. To take the load of its impossible appearence off of my poor brain, I assume.
They grab mirror-me by the back collar if their shirt -my shirt, technically- and lift them up.
"You fucking idiot." They say to mirror-me, looking quite angry.
Not sure what to do, I just stand there and kinda watch this whole thing unfold. I hope im not in any trouble. I *really* hope I'm not in any trouble.
They turn to me and say "Forget everything you saw here, kid. No one will believe you anyway."
They carry mirror-me away, out through my mirror door and presumably into- okay, I have no idea what their mirror logistics are, maybe I should have inquired about that first.
Before I can think too long about it, another mirror-me, presumably a different one, steps in from just out of view and takes my same position and same confused face. That was a few years ago, and I haven't been able to replicate it since.
Maybe I should lay off the Hallucinogenics.
\---------------
Hope you enjoyed it. If you did: how
|
[Inspired by a game called "The Splitting", discussing mirror worlds.]
Samantha couldn't believe her eyes. She blinked once, twice, yet her reflection didn't move. Instead, she pulled a piece of paper from inside her jacket, and Samantha found herself searching the jacket for the paper. Between her fingers was now a small note. "How on earth–"
"Read it by reflecting it in the mirror. It is illegible in your world," her reflection said.
On the note it said, _Hi, Samantha. I am ahtnamaS, but you can call me Aht. Our worlds are in danger. Some of us reflections have disappeared, and their human owners come here to look out for them. I'm fortunate to be isolated here, but I don't know how much time I have._
"Aht," Samantha said, as she reached out to touch the hand of her mirror self, "how can I help?"
"It is a great risk for you to come through this threshold. But... if you really want to help, you have to work with me," Aht answered.
"Aht, there's no doubt about that! Just... do others know about this?"
"Not all of them... I have heard of one llechtiM disappear. His human owner is in the mirror world, searching for his reflection. Another had disappeared before him– leinaD. No one knows what causes this to happen. But we must stop this!"
Samantha hesitates for a moment, as she looks at the room that ahtnamaS was in. A fire was burning, books with mirrored titles were sitting in a lonely bookcase, and there was no light apart from the fire. The flames were swaying left and right, as a gentle breeze washed over them. Aht was wearing her clothes – a denim jacket, a white blouse with an imprinted logo on it, a belt around her waist as it held the slightly ripped blue jeans – and she looked just as thoughtful as Samantha had felt.
"I'm coming. One question, though."
"Hm?"
"Can I always return to the real world?"
Aht nodded. "Provided you find a mirror, yes. Be careful not to get lost in the perception."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning your sanity may go haywire if you cross too fast between the realms. You won't be able to know what's real and what's not."
"Understood."
Samantha closed her eyes, and pressed her hand against the thin sheet of glass while Aht did the same. In a flash, the two were standing side by side, and Aht smiled softly at Samantha as she dusted herself off. The fire felt colder than she thought it looked like, and a sudden chill went down her spine.
Aht frowned. "Ah, I should've remembered that. You see, it's usually colder in the mirror world, but this time it hits harder. Whatever causes this, it can't be good."
"And f-from where do I g-get clothes," Samantha stammered, as she began rubbing her hands over her arms.
"I'll bring you some of my clothes," Aht said, without missing a beat.
"Oh. Are you sure they'll be my size?"
Laughter roared in the air. "I think they will be, my dear. You'll need to be well-dressed for the apocalypse."
After a few minutes, Samantha was dressed in the mirror-version of her winter clothes – a stuffy jacket, sturdier pants and winter boots – something Aht was wearing as well. Both women wandered outside, or whatever outside consisted of in the mirror world, noticing that there wasn't another soul on the road ahead. Stray pieces of paper were carried by the wind, mirrored words on them as they flew in the air.
They walked for a mile, when Aht suggested they should separate to extend the search for llechtiM and leinaD. Samantha was adamant that they shouldn't separate, if Aht's warnings were true, but Aht was convinced nothing could happen to her if they did one split.
Little did Samantha knew, she was about to be right.
| 2021-06-02T13:13:22 | 2021-06-02T10:44:01 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Write a story about something completely mundane. DON'T make it interesting. No plot twists. NO alien attacks, viruses, divine intervention, nothing. Just totally normal. Please, nothing ridiculous
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Hello, you may know me as John Doe. I'm the guy who actually is the protagonist for Reddit writing prompts. I live with my wife Jane. What you write, I live. First of all, thanks for this prompt, I lead a busy life and it's good to have a break. Secondly, coffee is hot. That was my day today. Thank you so much.
So, this morning I woke up, lazily corrected my author's grammar, and went to Dunkin Donuts. Really, thanks for adding that into my universe. Anyway, I bought some regular black coffee and took a sip. It was a little too hot and I waited for a minute for it to cool off. Guess what happened in that minute? Nothing. The coffee was not a drug. I was not kidnapped by Nazi cats. Nobody wanted to make me a wizard. The President just passed bills that day, and I was not involved in any matters of national security. Thank you so, so much. I went home, turned on TV, and Ellen DeGeneres did not turn into a werewolf. I went to bed after eating a microwave dinner that was not poison nor a nuke. Thanks for the hot coffee, Reddit.
|
John lowered the boat into the water and pushed off as the morning sun rose over the lake. It wasn't a very hot morning, nor was it very cold, and John was fine with that. He was mildly interested in going fishing, after the worst week of his life. But that was a story for another time.
John chose a #2 Aberdeen hook and tied a Palomar knot with his fishing line. He added a large piece of worm to the hook, and a few small weights above it. Finally, he clipped on a red and white bobber and cast out into the lake.
Minutes passed. Nothing happened. John decided to move his bobber higher up the line, to allow the worm to rest at a deeper spot of the lake.
Minutes passed. Still nothing happened. John decided to try another part of the lake. Nothing happened there either. After a time, John glanced at his watch. It was time to go home.
When John returned to the boat launch he loaded his boat onto his trailer and drove off. John hadn't caught any fish today, but he was fine with that.
| 2016-05-23T17:28:45 | 2016-05-23T14:26:04 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him.
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Dear Mom,
I love you and I miss you dearly. I want to be home. I don't want to be here anymore. It is unspeakably terrifying in this trench. We are shelled at random times of the day. There is never any peace. We can never be at ease.
There is 400 meters between us and the enemy, and we are at a stand still. Neither side wishes to rush the other and get cut down running across an open field. So we sit and wait. I don't want to die, and I don't want to kill the men in the trench across from us. I don't think they want to kill us either. But we both have orders from men in headquarters far away from here telling us we must capture this territory at all cost. I do not want this war, and I
have dezided to desert. I von't be coming home mama, I haf met a friend named Olaf, he iz a good man, I vill be staying wit him. He will take good care of me. Please don't worry abouts me. I will wright too you soon. I will be happy.
Love,
your son
|
To my Love,
I don't know if you're still getting this, or if the post keeps on messing it up, but I want you to know that I'm doing this for you. The past few weeks have been hell, but thinking of you helps me to push forward. Speaking of which, how's our little man doing? I hope you went with Thomas. I've always liked that name. Maybe because of that show on tv I always used to watch growing up as kid. Can you just promise me one thing? If I don't get back, show him a few episodes. I'm sure he'll love-
I don't know who this is, but I hope you can forgive me for what I've done. I killed you husband, or lover, or whoever he was. It's the first time I've killed anyone. And I'm scared. I write this with a trembling hand. Whoever you are, please, forgive me. It wasn't my fault. It wasn't any of our faults. I was drafted, just as everyone else was. I'm done fighting. It's tearing me apart. I'm going home.
From, Thomas
| 2015-02-03T13:25:34 | 2015-02-03T13:14:11 | 67 | 14 |
[WP] Aliens have invaded to conquer and enslave humanity, however "slavery" to them involves only working the equivalent of 12 hours a week while having healthy food, shelter, and means of entertainment taken care of so the human resistance is having trouble with defectors preferring to be slaves.
|
"Why?"
I had learned fairly quickly that they understood our language. But the real trick was to get your questions down to as few words as possible. They seemed to have some telepathic abilities, so even broad questions like - well, 'Why?' - still had their nuance.
It also seemed like speed was a necessity in their lives. It certainly explained how they had managed to overcome the defenses of all of Earth's nations in a week. Created ceasefires and agreements in a day. And overcome any resistance within a few hours.
The first time I saw one, it was standing behind a bureaucrat in a suit. The closest earth analog to these creatures would be the praying mantis, but with an extra set of arms, and 4-digited hands instead of claws on each. And blue. A very vibrant blue. And 10 foot tall.
The bureaucrat was handing out 'Work Agreements', he called them. We thought they were terms of surrender. And they were. Except...
"12 hours a week? That's it?", I asked the bureaucrat.
"Yes! And the all the amenities listed. Health care, food, entertainment and relaxation possibilities, and more! Be sure to list your immediate family, so you can be placed in an appropriately sized living space!"
I had looked off to my left. What had been an abandoned strip mall was in the process of being demolished and rebuilt into residential blocks. From the outside, they weren't much to look at. The furnishings that were being flown in, however, were top notch. The worker robots the aliens were using seem to slip soundlessly though the air, moving furniture, carpet, windows, televisions - my community area had its own pool table, spa and movie theatre.
I had taken the Work Agreement tentatively. I read it over - yea, free health, dental, vision... free food? - and wondered. "If they can provide all this to their... slaves... why do we need to work?"
The bureaucrat looked a little downcast. "My understanding is... some of the work will be... dangerous."
"How so?"
"Some of it is your basic manual labor - tending farms, cleaning, that sort of thing. Some folks will work in entertainment. Some of it is handing out Work Agreements!" he beamed. "But sometimes it will includes more hazardous work - mining, cleaning nuclear waste... things that would deemed... high risk. That's why it is only 12 hours a week."
That gave me pause... I had heard whispers of resistance. They said the jobs were suicidal. Well, working in a mine is dangerous, but we've been doing that for millennia. None of the conspiratorial whisperers seemed to be gaining any new followers.
So, I signed on the dotted line anyway. Everyone else in the neighborhood had signed already. "What is one more cog in the machine?" I thought.
I was given my living assignment, and given a work schedule. Monday through Thursday, 3 hours a day at Power Plant Delta. The rest of the time? Relax. Rest. Eat. Be moderately happy. The 'moderately' happy bit seemed out of place, but whatever.
And I was... moderately happy. But...
"Why?"
My question stopped the creature in its tracks. Most seemed capable of flight, but this one was running quickly along the side of the road to the power plant.
It quickly turned to me and stared. I hadn't been this close to one of the aliens in a few months. Most of them flew over the human population without an apparent thought.
It felt like wind blowing over my scalp. Expect... under the roots of the hairs on my head. The creature was trying to get a better grasp on my question. I didn't know why we were working. I didn't understand the point of this. My job was watching a robot handle the nuclear waste from the plant. I noted when it picked up spent fuel, confirmed the weight, and off it went.
The creature seemed to gather itself, looked me in the eyes, and said in an almost sing-song manner:
"Excess."
... what? That didn't mak-
The images hit me like a wave. The creature was pushing an explanation into my head, though the mental channel it had created. I saw our planet as it had been in the distant past. Clean. Vibrant. And then humanity appeared. Slowly, the planet seemed to weaken. Decay. Suddenly, the planet began to rapidly deteriorate. Ice caps receding. Storms raging. And at the moment it seemed all would be lost... the alien fleet appeared.
I blinked. The alien fleet remained in my head, but the planet was different. The decay and chaos was there, but this planet was different. Red. My vision zoomed in, down to the planets surface. I saw the blue insectoid aliens, handing papers to another race of aliens; humanoid, but hunched over with rocklike complexion . The paper had strange writing... but I could understand it... "Health, dental, vision, all provided... and no work".
The rocklike beings readily agreed. They moved into living structures not like our new ones on Earth. They were happy...
and bored.
Nothing to do. All needs answered. So what do you do?
Dangerous stunts. Debauchery. Death races. Drugs. They tore themselves apart. And they didn't care.
The blue aliens realized their mistake, but far too late. They tried to limit their gifts; revolts and suicidal attacks followed. They tried to retract their gifts completely; the rocklike beings starved, having thrown out all their knowledge and tools to live in total hedonism.
The blue aliens left the planet, flew away. The red planet they left behind had stopped its decline for a time while they were there. But now the planet rapidly decayed. Wars, fights, fires and waste. The clouds went black over the surface. And remained.
Snapping back to myself, I found myself staring slack jawed at the alien. The vision had felt like it had lasted days, but only a second had passed. I tried to plant bring myself back to the present, almost overwhelmed by what I had seen... but I understood now. Without some kind of responsibility, without a break *from being carefree*, we could suffer the same fate.
"Moderate," the alien said.
"... Moderate. Yea, good idea," I replied.
The alien nodded, and ran on its way.
|
Part 1.
I bit down hard on the leather strap, felt a sharp edge press into my gums, but still a whelp escaped my lips as the scalpel slid through the flesh on my buttock and tongs were pressed into the wound. The barb was all the way in, I could tell by how deep they were going, I'd been hit real bad this time. The sound of the wind and the rain probably masked my moans. Not that I really cared at this point. I was on my third tour and way, way past bravado.
Stevens was standing next to me, his hand on my shoulder, clamping down pretty hard. I turned my face toward him and saw his white knuckles an inch from my nose. I glanced up and he met my gaze, gave a little encouraging nod and murmured something that was probably meant to sound encouraging. I couldn't make out the words but it sounded wrong, like his voice was a pitch higher than normal. Pearls of sweat beaded off his forehead. I hoped he wouldn't pass out at this next bit.
"Drill". The medic said it so matter of factly, voice flat. I saw Stevens close his eyes before everything went black for me.
...
"Toole. Hey. Hey man. Are you awake?"
A warm glow came through my eyelids. I was vaguely aware of being on my back and, oddly, no pain whatsoever. A warm sensation in the back of my neck, quite pleasant actually. My mouth had an aftertaste, as if I'd recently been drinking something. *Vanilla?* Soft, cool, smooth fabric under my cheek. I drifted back down.
...
"Finally! I was worried about you. I thought maybe you were too far gone. How do you feel? Long time no see!" I tried real hard to focus on this voice, which seemed familiar. I'd been having one of the better dreams, and a wave of resentment washed over me as I realized I'd been woken up. Then a face floated into view and the recognition startled me enough that I snapped snapped sober in an instant. "Yannick?" It was really her. She'd been leaning over the bed and now she bolted upright, did a little mock salute and laughed, "the one and only, sir!". I was so happy to see her that I didn't even mind the mockery, and though the thought briefly surfaced that it was uncharacteristic, it didn't seem to be of any real import, considering that she was back from the dead.
She filled me in on the story as I scoffed three cups of something that she fetched for me and that I couldn't name, but languidly categorized as jello-ish.
"So yeah, I should be dead" she was saying. "But I was brought here, just in time. They got it out and patched me right up and I'm good as. Same as you! Sir." She smiled. I smiled.
"That is really lucky isn't it. I mean, I saw you." My voice caught in my throat for some reason. "Barbed, right in the gut." She laughed softly. "Yes" she said. "They can do marvellous things here, you see." "Hmm, so what is this place, Brazilian? Chilean?" I scraped the cup with the little plastic spoon. "This is really good stuff." She looked away. I put the spoon in my mouth and sucked it clean. "I mean we sure don't have anything like this, it seems state of the art. Last thing I remember I was ass up on a truck flatbed and some pimply medics were busting my tail bone open with a rusty dremel." I put the cup down.
"Sir, you need to stay calm." She put her hand on mine. "We had it all wrong. All along."
My mouth felt dry. "Uh-huh".
I sat up, too quickly, there was a momentary tug and a soft *pop* in my neck. Immediately anxiety washed over me and oh! My butt hurt. And my neck. And Yannick, wait, no no, she was *dead*! I'd seen it. I clamped my hand over my neck and felt something slimey, slippery.
Yannick cried out. "Shit! He's fucking popped it! Help, help, someone, quickly!" A soft whir started from somewhere and then became more urgent. The alien came into view from the corner of my eye and I shrieked, instinctively thrashing off of the bed, landing hard on my side *damn I will pay for that later* and kicking back. The bed came crashing down between me and it. Yannick let out an ear piercing scream but didn't jump into cover, instead started to move away. Deciding that almost getting myself killed once trying to drag her to safety was enough, I let her go and instead focused on getting my bearings. Shit, I was totally boxed in, the narrow bed seemed more like a fucking cage now than a barrier, me in the corner hiding pitifully behind it. Over there, a door and a window. And between me and that, the alien.
It waited there. The pain was really coming back to me now, my entire ass was on fire and pulsing in time with my pounding heart.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh, whoosh.
Oh, my, fucking, God.
I knew couldn't bear it much longer. Every heart beat was a sledgehammer blow in my wound. The thought came to me like a match being struck in the dark and the clarity of it held the pain off enough that I could manage a little internal reasoning. *Something is in my blood*." Somehow this fucker is fighting me on the inside. It's not even going to come over here." No, wait that wasn't exactly it. I shook my head like in an old fashioned cartoon, as if that would make the jumbled thoughts fall into place. Somehow it worked. "It's already here. The alien is in my ass." Ha.. What a way to go. Not fair.. The thoughts faded and the whooshing resumed.
...
| 2020-11-22T11:57:35 | 2020-11-22T11:32:53 | 2,086 | 92 |
[WP] As a child, you and your best friend made a pact to go on an real fantasy adventure. After growing up, starting your separate lives and families, and losing touch, one day he/she bursts into your office, throwing you a sword and insists you accompany them.
|
"Don't you remember our deal?"
Jack thrusts a sword into my lap, its blade nearly missing my shoulder.
"The adventure thing? Jack, it's been years; I'm married now, I have two kids."
"Adam, you promised! I've been waiting for this for years! Put on the armor I sent you for christmas, and let's go!"
"I can't! I have to make a living here Jack; I'm sorry, but I made this deal years ago. I was young then, I didn't see the responsibilities yet!"
Jack, obviously frustrated, ripped the sword out of my hands, again barely missing my chin. He spun around and stormed out of my office.
"Jack, wait."
The door flies open, "So you've decided to take up the quest? Atta boy!"
He throws the sword back at me, hitting me in the shin.
"No Jack" I say as I rub my leg, "we're still too old for this. But I miss you man; for God's sake we haven't seen each other in years."
I hand him back the sword, "Why don't you come over to my place tonight? We can have dinner, our kids can get to know each other, we'll just talk. I want to catch up."
Jack pauses to think, "Okay, I'll bring the family. My wife makes a hell of a cheesecake, I'll make sure she brings one."
That night, as we're finishing up the scraps of the cheesecake, our boys, both around ten, run into the room.
"Dad! Luke's so fun! Why doesn't he come over more often?"
"Well Sam, Luke's dad and I haven't seen each other in a while, but don't worry, we'll see him more often."
"I hope so, we need to start training for our quest."
Jack chimes in, "Quest?"
"Our adventure! Luke heard his dad talking about it, how fun it would be to go on an adventure with your friend."
Luke raises his fist in the air, "I can't wait until we're old enough! There's so many cool things to see, and seeing them with your friend would just make them cooler."
I put my hands on both boy's shoulders, "Well boys, it certainly would be fun. I hope you two can go on the greatest adventure anyone's ever seen."
I walk Jack and his family out to their car. Jack's holding an already sleeping Luke, so we have to whisper.
"Great night, thanks for coming over."
"No problem, we'll have to have you over soon ourselves. My boy really liked seeing Sam."
"No kidding, we'd better let them train for their quest."
After sharing a laugh, Jack and I exchange a quick look. With a smirk, Jack carefully sets Jake in his seat and reaches into the trunk.
He hands me the sword. This time I take it.
Edit:
Thanks for the support guys!
|
Gregory jumps up on my table and sticks the sword right in there, through my papers. Where on earth did he get a real sword?
"Kathleen the great, you are my knight in arms and together we shall embark on a journey to free the less fortunate from the great Tower. Together we shall conquer the world!" He shouts. He's wearing a princess dress. A fucking Princess dress, and he hands me the armor of a knight. He never did give much for gender roles when we were kids.
"Gregory. You're off your meds." I say calmly. I haven't seen him in years, but my mother had talked to his mom and I knew the whole thing. Last time I had heard he was doing good. Self consciously I glance around at my co-workers. I share office with two other.
"Ah, do not let those vile tellings fool you. For the evil King was poisoning my mind and keeping me in a teerribble trance! But fear not, for I am free now!" He shouts, loud enough that people stop in the door and stare. "For we must find the magic key which unlocks the dungeons for those poorer than us."
I consider Gregory. I did always want to go on an adventure. I had promised him I would. I sigh and nods.
"How lucky for you I know who keeps this Magical Key. Dear Gregorius, for it is kept within a well guarded fortress down on fifth street!" I chime and hastily put on the armor he offers me. It's silly, but it's the only way I know of getting him help. I really don't want to embarrass him further by calling the cops on him. "Cover for me." I say quietly to my co-workers who nod dazed.
"Rejoice, dear Kathleen! I knew you would follow me!" Gregory laughs and runs out through my office as quickly as he had come. I sigh and leave the sword where it is. I don't dare bring a weapon when he is like that.
And so me and my old friend Gregory head towards the well guarded fortress down of fifth street. Also know as the nuthouse in lay-mans-terms, or mental institution in higher English. Of course, in his addled frame of mind, Gregory does not understand this until it is too late.
The last I see of my friend that day is the men in white robes dragging him away while he screams at me.
"Traitor, wench! I would not believe this of you! Kathleen, traitor I say! I shall claim my revenge!" He screams as I solemnly watch them pull him away. I regret bringing him there so quickly. Gregory had always had a good heart and he had always been such fun to be with, always the adventurer.
Edit: Words.
| 2015-01-28T06:48:27 | 2015-01-28T06:36:01 | 130 | 35 |
[WP] Your supervillain nemesis is little more than goofy comedy relief, always coming up with clunky machines and insane, nonsensical schemes. When a new dangerous villain appeared, your nemesis utterly destroyed them, and then continued on like nothing happened.
|
Ultraman listened with a slight smile as Über Destructo Gigadeath ranted about his last evil scheme that would see all ice cream flavours turn to licorice.
It was, to be fair, one of the eviler schemes the young man had come up with.
Licorice. Brr.
Anyway, Destructo was perhaps the most harmless of villains in Central City and with his over the top displays, silliness and hamminess had even garnered something of a fanbase (he had signed autographs that one time and his Mad Cooking channel on YouTube had a million subscribers)
"You shall never get away with this, fiend!" Ultraman called good naturally.
Like many heroes he played along with Destructo. Seriously, the guy send the League Christmas cards.
He was about to respond to the latest taunts...when the sky darkened.
Alarmed Ultraman looked up...and paled as he saw the distinctive patterns of red and black crawling around the planet.
"No. No no no no no..."
"Ultraman, what is it?" Destructo had come closer, looking concerned.
"Get out of here, James. Run as fast as you can. We...we will try to stop it"
Destructo frowned. "Stop what?"
Ultraman shook his head and prepared to take off "No time"
A hand grabbed his muscular arm. "Stop. What." Destructo eyed him carefully "I have never seen you scared before"
Ultraman took a breath. Did it matter now anyway? He saw the familiar figure of red and black smoke descent through the atmosphere. Vaguely humanoid but subtly off in a way that made the eyes hurt.
"The Corruption. A...thing born of the concepts of madness and perversion. It travels the universe and destroys civilisations. Not kills them. But twists and perverts them until there is nothing but fear and suffering. Forever" He took a deep breath, trying to get the dread under control. "I don't know if we can stop it. But we will try" He gave Destructo a faint smile "We have extradomensional evacuation shelters. Spaceships. Try to get to one of them, James, you will be fine, okay?"
Destructo's serious face did not change as he looked from Ultraman to the Corruption. "No"
And then he began to float.
Ultraman blinked. James could fly?
And the idiot was going to confront the Corruption! He had to stop him!
"Stay" James said and Ultraman found himself unable to move, helpless to do anything but watch and listen.
"And what are you supposed to be?" The mocking voice of the Corruption asked. A billion alien voices wailing and screaming. "A little joke of a man, desperate for attention?"
"Yes. I am the laughter, the silliness. The joke. But not the punchline"
Their voices echoed over the city. The country. Somehow, everyone could hear then.
"Oh you are. You so are. Let me show you..."
"No. I've seen you. I know what you are. Broken. Fearful. You are the mind fleeing from reality. A mistake"
"Exactly! I am the final truth in this world! Random suffering! Pointless destruction!"
"No. I saw you. I met you. And I moved past you. You are a temporary aberration. A distraction. Be gone"
"You think you can..."
BE. GONE.
Ultraman clutched his head as reality buckled.
A wound in the cosmos was erased. The Corruption snuffed out like a candle.
Thousands of light-years away entire civilisations woke up from collective nightmares and regained their sanity.
Ultraman looked around. The sky was restored.
The Corruption gone.
The only sign anything had happened at all was the eery silence in Central City.
James stood in front of him, an awkward and unsure smile on his face. "So...icecream?" he asked, unable to meet Ultramabs eyes.
Ultraman thought of James. Of a being able to kill something more powerful than the gods. Of someone able to rearrange reality at a whim. Who used it to play cops and robbers.
Heh. That *was* actually pretty funny.
Slowly he smiled. "You shall never get away with this!"
Destructo relaxed, shoulders slumping in relief "Aha! But how will you catch me when you have to deal with my...*Ice Cream Minions!* Muahahaha!"
|
People ask me why I go after Basketcase with such ferocity. Why I would dedicate so much of my time to thwarting a villain whose only means of attack is to control fruit? Why tarnish my reputation by holding long and elaborate battles a villain who wouldn’t even take a full episode of a Saturday morning cartoon to defeat.
It’s because I know what he’s capable of.
First of all he’s not crazy. Not in the slightest bit. I’ve fought crazies before, and none of them do what he does. Sure there are always sideshow villains who’d try and rob a bakery for only the black and white cookies with the black frosting on the left side. But none of them would do it on the exact day that a hero would be shopping there 5 times in a row over the course of 3 months.
These were different bakeries. In different towns. With different heroes. None of whom were in costume.
And it’s not the only instance either. There was the time he upstaged a hostage situation in progress while trying to rob the bank that had already been robbed with his “banana guns” tripping over the leftover peels and falling through the wall right next to where Serien was planning to break in.
And there was the time he attacked using only apples for 3 weeks in order to “crush Big Apple’s profits” right around the time Agent Walter discovered he had a citrus allergy.
His crimes are never committed without a hero nearby and they always seems to go just right for the hero involved.
And when he gets caught, as he inevitably does whatever he was focusing on no longer matters. He just smiles, puts his hands out and gets taken away. Before breaking out within days. Even the prison secretly run by Big Jenny has longer incarcerations.
And I know what you’re all thinking. Sunbeam you’ve gone mad. You’ve spent too much time looking into this stuff. We haven’t seen you in weeks.
But hear me out, please. The villains, they fear him. Yes from the outside it looks like he’s their punching bag but do you notice? They never hit him hard enough to even draw blood. Whenever he enters a fight the entire mood changes. Attacks that used to deal massive physical damage start missing. The villains start acting differently. Why would Eclipse ever say “the darkness within me was unable to contain your light” before falling to a paltry blast I could muster with the last of my strength?
I should have died. Even without that I was in the hospital for 3 weeks.
And I checked. I went back and took readings of all of my previous blasts. They were all more powerful then my final attack.
My power is condescend light why would a wider beam be more powerful?
Why did Eclipse agree to be taken in so readily?
They say our small country is the safest in the world, and in no small part is that awarded to our heroes. But I fear that safety is all in the hands of one man’s boredom. And if we don’t satisfy that we will all be doomed.
—-
That was a video recording of Sunbeam middle of the street after a fight with Carnit. A shocking turn for a hero who has been so steadfast in protecting the country from villains. When asked for comment The Vigilant released a press statement saying Sunbeam was clearly suffering from PTSD due to his heroic effort against Eclipse last year and will be given the time he needs to recover in private.
So sorry superfans it seems like we won’t be seeing the Shining Savior in the short term.
As for Basketcase it’s clear this outburst has little impact on him as his recent attack on Crumbles, a newly opened bakery, was quickly stopped by Split who arrived just before Basketcase could steal the “cookies with fruit in them before the fruit is added” as he put it.
When asked for comment he cackled “Lemons are yellow like the sun, and so juicy!”, spraying lemon juice into my cameraman’s eyes before being swiftly taken away.
For the record my cameraman is fine, he may be a spindly guy but he’s no coward. Always on call to record after any heroic deed. This act clearly shook him though so while Basketcase may not be the countries’ “secret evil boss” he at least claimed one victim today.
This is Carol signing off.
| 2022-10-13T20:53:30 | 2022-10-13T20:43:03 | 167 | 68 |
[WP] You are the CEO of a successful energy company. You’re invited to a business dinner, and if the deal goes well, it could revolutionize energy as we know it. Only one problem. Garlic’s in the food, utensils are silver and it’s held in an old chapel. And you’re a vampire.
|
"It's a chapel!" he yelled at me. "It wouldn't be too good for the company if its CEO died, would it?"
"Answer." He went silent for a few seconds.
"IT'S A DARN CHAPEL!"
"It used to be," I said. "They lose their effect over the years. For this one, hundreds. I will be fine."
"You may come out alive, but if they notice, our days are over. The deal is over. We lose everything." my advisor said in a troubled voice.
In this culture, vampires are not permitted to hold leadership positions. It is widely believed that, despite them being harmless and friendly to humans, they have an internalized desire to plan ultimate control; which of course isn't true.
"Please, just tell them you can't make it. If Wayne tells you he's not interested in the deal any longer, then so be it. We'll get better opportunities in the future... Surely." He shortly exited the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I grabbed a letter. To Wayne, CEO of Vortex Energy. I apologized for not being there, signed it, stamped it. On the way out, I also tossed it in the garbage.
I wasn't going to pass up on such an opportunity. We've been waiting for ages. We were almost at the point of desperation. We're going bankrupt. It's now or never.
I got ready, grabbed my gloves, and prepared my garlic antidote. Everyone cooks with garlic nowadays. It isn't going to protect me from the smell, but if the worst happens, at least I won't die.
I informed my staff and they got ready as well. I told them not to resist, as the decision had already been made.
We arrived early. For the home owner, uncomfortably early. But not because I'm punctual. I'm never punctual, I'm a vampire. But because I wanted to pressure them into starting the dinner as early as possible, and for this to be over with as soon as possible. If I stuck around till midnight, bad things are going to happen.
Since nothing was ready yet, Wayne insisted we go for a walk and discuss. Fantastic--this is in my favor. If I was going to sit in that rusty old building then I better make sure to be in it for as little time as possible. I can only sit in sunlight for so long as well, though, but thankfully, the sun is setting.
Our company had discovered technology that can revolutionize energy. But we don't have the finances to fund its testing or production. No one except Wayne believed in what our company had achieved. He was willing to partner with us for 2 years as we kickstart production. This was huge for us, and for me. If I could make this project work, it would be the most lucrative business. Yes, I wanted to save the planet and everything, but I also wanted to be rich.
The discussion went well. I had high hopes. But the hardest part hasn't even started yet.
After an hour or so, we are to enter the building. My bones stiffened. At this point, his team had arrived as well. I clench my fists as I step in. I really wanted to express how much I hated the building. It was painful. But I was confident I could handle it for a few hours.
We were sat around a large table; me and my team on one side, Wayne and his on the other. Of all materials, the utensils were made out of silver. I wasn't going to take off my gloves. Suddenly, he got up, pointed to another table to our left and said, "This is the vampire table. The utensils are steel, and the food will be void of any garlic. Feel free to move tables as the food will be served shortly."
"This has to be a trap," I said to myself. "There's no way this is real. He has to be testing me." A few of his team switched. Not all of them were vampires. "If I change tables, it will be extremely disrespectful at best... it's like I don't want to talk to him. He doesn't expect me to do that." I didn't have time to hesitate. This building is getting the best of me. I'm starting to sweat and my vision is blurring. If I smell garlic, I'm going to be on the floor.
"Why don't we all move to the vampire table, so we can all sit together?" I said. "After all, we can eat their food, but the opposite cannot be said."
"Very thoughtful of you," he replied after some consideration. The situation was saved.
The food was very good.
I can't exactly say I liked the man, and I definitely started to rethink whether I really wanted to partner with him. But it was the right thing to do. We went on to sign some papers, shook hands, and parted ways. He didn't find out. But as a vampire myself, I could distinguish some of his employees who were too. They must have been able to tell I was. But vampires don't snitch, right? I hope.
I sigh in relief as I leave the building, 11:44PM.
We have secured the victory.
|
"This sounds like a great opportunity..."
"Certainly does, boss. Think you can handle it?"
I ponder my options. Vampires are always portrayed as evil, but really it's just a select few individuals that enjoy targeting humans - most of us are content on sucking on the blood of animals, similar to vampire *bats*. Still, if my true identity is discovered, I'll be sentenced to death, like my mother after my dad's family found out the truth about her (my dad's family were humans, and my dad was fully accepting of my mum, but he knew his family were conspiracy theorists that hate vampires).
On the other hand, this could change the world for the better... imagine the possibilities! We could reverse the damage to the planet! We could use 100x less energy, lowering costs around the globe! We could rescue long-lost resources! This opportunity cannot be passed up!
I look to my assistant, the only person besides my fiancé and his parents who knows my true identity. "Please tell them that I will be very busy that day, and cannot make it to the physical location, but I am more than prepared to join in online. I can send them any and all information they need." My assistant nods and goes to send the message, while I finish up some paperwork I've been doing. Just as I finish up, someone comes into the building, requesting to see me...
I go to greet them, but I realise that they're supernatural hunters. They'll imprison me *at best* if they find out the truth... and they will. They only visit places with unusual levels of supernatural activity, they'll sense where it's coming from. I very quickly invite them to my office, and alert my assistant that I need him.
"I assume you asked us in here because you know we know?" "That's correct. But now is not a good time. In a week's time, I plan to have a meeting with some people from another organisation. This could change the planet for the better! This will revolutionise the way we use and generate energy!" The men look at each other, then back at me.
"Those people are actually why we're here... they thought it odd that you wouldn't meet them in person for this, so they decided to look into you. They found out that your mum was a vampire, so either you're half vampire or full vampire, as I'm sure you know that the mother's class impacts on their child." I gulp. "So... what does this mean?"
"They just wanted us to confirm their suspicions. As soon as we saw you, we knew; you're full vampire. They said that if you're half vampire, they may be able to make it work, but they don't want to work with a full vampire. Still, they understand the importance of this deal. They asked us how you'd want to proceed?"
At this point my assistant steps in. "Maybe she's a vampire, but she's not a-" I cut him off. "There's no room for negotiation here. People just don't trust the supernatural. I can consider myself lucky that I'm not being dragged away right this moment." I look at the group of men. "You have a job to do... I respect that. Please, let them know that my assistant is fully aware of everything related to this meeting, and that he can take over on my behalf. More importantly..." I start to feel nervous. "What will happen with me?"
"We'll be keeping an eye on you" they responded. "You seem nice enough. We don't want to cause trouble. In the meantime, you will be required to wear this." They pull out some sort of monitor, and I hesitantly agree. It's humiliating, but it's better than being locked up for being... well, me.
​
It's now 30 years later. Somehow, after the deal was a success, people found out that the CEO of the company is a vampire. News spread worldwide, and I knew my company would suffer. I made an announcement: "There are rumours of my true origin being... vampiric. Those rumours are true. I do not wish to cause any fear, worry or trouble. I officially retire from my position, and hand the company to my assistant."
Since then, I had received multiple threats and attempted homicides from multiple different people - some out of fear for their safety, some for a reward, some for the fun of it. It was beginning to cause a strain on my husband's side of the family too, so I contacted those same people who appeared in my office, and told them that I'm in their hands. I can thank the stars that both my children, a boy and a girl, are only *half* vampire. There was a lot of support for both sides during the mutual divorce, and my ex visits me from time to time, with our children, so they know the truth of their heritage, and take it in pride, but hide it from others for their safety.
As for the energy revolution? At first, because I had been in charge, there was a lot of controversy. But after a major energy supplier switched their methods and processes to my former company's, people began to look past the previous ownership, and now energy is much cleaner, more efficient, and more powerful than ever. And at the end of the day, *that's* what matters most to me.
| 2022-08-21T08:13:41 | 2022-08-21T04:21:32 | 751 | 66 |
[WP] You discover you're an immortal of a rather peculiar breed...a soap opera character. Whenever you die, you always come back to life due to the most ludicrous reason possible.
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The first time I died, the emergency room crew tried hard to revive me. When they finally gave up, everybody stood back and looked sad, and then exactly ten seconds later, my heart started, I sputtered and coughed, and sat up.
The attending physician said, "This is *total* bullshit," and walked out.
The second time, I died peacefully in my sleep. The coroner dropped me on the floor while trying to load the body on the gurney, and it started my heart again.
The coroner soiled his trousers.
The third time I died, it was a really bad day for my girlfriend. She found my body, suffered through all the hassle that follows such things, and finally fell asleep exhausted near dawn the next morning. While she slept, she had a dream about the whole gruesome day, and when she woke up, I was there sleeping peacefully beside her.
"It was such a vivid dream!" she said. "It seemed so real!" She was pretty confused when my mom came in the door a moment later, spotted me, and started screaming.
The fourth time, I fell into a glacier crevasse, died, and woke up three years later after global warming spit my body out at the end of the receding ice.
Scared the hell out of some tourists.
The fifth time, some dude brought me back with CPR that was so inept that nobody was surprised when he said "I saw it on TV."
The sixth time, a four hundred year old Scottish witch and a couple of Canadian guys with a trunk full of weapons brought me back.
I'm just so tired.
|
Ok, why the fuck am I still here?" This was getting old. The first time I was reincarnated from a car accident I was told I was actually untouchable by objects because of a special power. That bore some semblance of reality? But a *dinosaur* saving me from a suicide attempt? Could they not come up with a better reason?
"Welcome back! We were missing you..." my "friend's" voice trailed off as I stormed out of the house. I was tired of living with these fucking morons without a sweet release. Was there no way I could kill myself without being revived?
Then I thought of a way. It had to propensity to fail spectacularly, but my life couldn't fail as badly as it would, so I went ahead. Running towards the ocean, I dunked my head inside, waiting for the water to take me. I made sure no entity could get near me and spoil my master plan.
The air bubbles were escaping...the end was near...but as I started to choke, I realized the folly of this plan.
It hurt...and the pain reminded me. This was my life that I was ending. My life that I could spend with people I knew and loved. And I finally felt it. The fear of dying.
As I was miraculously lifted up to shore and told I was a fish, I didn't even resent them anymore. Contrastingly I was grateful. Grateful they reminded me life was worth living for.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62!
| 2017-07-03T09:22:04 | 2017-07-03T05:39:52 | 111 | 31 |
[WP] You can taste lies. One day your friend is comforting you after a tough night and you almost vomit at the foul taste as you hear her say "After all, you're only human."
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So it turns out I'm not human. To be frank, I wasn't surprised when upon that fateful day my friend's words turned to ashes in my mouth, almost choking me with their utmost falseness. After all, humans can't taste lies, so the obvious answer was that I wasn't human. Still it wasn't exactly the most comforting thing to realize as I sat there, tears streaming down my face the night my boyfriend had left me. It had been a long day of bad tastes, and this wasn't nearly the worst of them. All in all not being human wasn't so bad.
And it did present some unique opportunities. After I'd kicked my friend out of my house and moped around a little, I realized something. Despite not being too surprised at the knowledge that I was some kind of inhuman freak, it wasn't as if I'd explicitly known beforehand. That meant my ability to taste a lie wasn't limited by my own perception of what was and was not the truth. An idea started to form in my head.
So it was that I found myself sitting upon a stage, cheesy 90's gameshow music playing as Chris Tarrant, host of *Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?* sat across from me. I'd been asked question after question, and after each one I'd spoken something along the lines of, "Well, it must be the Propylaea ... but no, wait, of course not, perhaps the Acropolis? Yes, the Acropolis."
It had been a foul tasting day, and yet it would soon be my sweetest. Things were looking up.
|
I was shocked. How could it be? After all this time.....I didn’t know what to do so I ran. What else could I do? I ran as far as I could and ended up in some hell forsaken forest. I just needed time to think. I sat on the edge of a broken and twisted tree, trying to regain my thoughts. Then it hit me, I need to figure out what I am and what I am doing here. That means I needed to go back. I though up some half assed excuse as to why I ran and started my journey back. However for some reason I couldn’t leave the forest it was pulling me closer chanting the words: DVOH DVOH DVOH. I could barely usher a scream before I was pulled up and instantly knocked out. I awoke in a cold, brightly lit laboratory. As I tried to pull my head up, I noticed I can’t move.
A voice told me to stay and not move.
He said that I wasn’t real
He said I was a genetically engineered bot.
He said that my life long friend Nancy, the one who told me that lie, was just a bot named friEND bot 2000
It was then as they injected that purple liquid into my veins, I realized my true purpose.
My true purpose, was to kill.
Hey guys, I don’t normally write and this was my first time! If you want more of my writing or something just tell me.
| 2018-05-12T05:25:13 | 2018-05-12T05:15:18 | 1,793 | 11 |
[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.
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Of all the little joys in life, one that sticks out the most for me is being the little spoon for my husband, and feeling his warm breath on my neck. He knows I love the affection of snuggling, and continues to nestle in with me even though he frequently gasps on my long brown hair. The greatest stage of sleep for me is the twilight period, when you wake up initially and doze back off and try to jump back into a nice dream. At this moment, I am ready to start the coffee, but my man is still sawing away with the cutest snore. I can wait for the coffee, he deserves the extra minutes of bliss that is twilight sleep. I am so happy to be here right now, with this man, and feel the exchange of warmth we are so blessed to share. I knew he was the right one when he tucked my cold, exposed toes under the blanket while he thought I was sleeping. It's the little things. As I lay on my side with him at my back, I know he has my back in more ways that one. I reach over to caress the full grown man who is sleeping like a baby, and is as cute as one too. Coffee can wait, this is wonderful. In my twilight daze I smile sleepily while I run my fingers through his matted hair and his long, bushy beard...but even espresso could not wake me faster than realizing my husband has no beard.
|
It was a beautiful night for urban exploring. This part of the town was intensely silent. The warehouses used to bustle with tobacco, textiles, and workers and businessman. But times had changed, and the businesses had gone overseas. Now they were simply beautiful old shells, filled with old machines and boxes of never used materials. Sometimes Emily and I found the old machinery and tried to guess what it was. We might look it up later to find that it was actually part of an old loom, or a tobacco curing rack. In this building, we noticed a heavy metal door with some kind of wheel that still turned, opening a room that had likely not been opened in years. We both walked inside onto a metal scaffold. We found it to be an old silo of sorts. Our flashlights revealed an old set of stairs curving down around the outside of the room. The smell of old tobacco was musty, but pleasant. We got out our cameras and decided to film it a little bit. I walked cautiously down the old metal stairs to the very bottom. There was some kind of odd hourglass looking contraption. Curious, I tried to look it up by the serial number, but I couldn't get a signal on my phone inside the metal walls. Emily called down to me, "I can't get this door to open."
Edit: Clarity, spelling.
| 2017-05-31T08:09:16 | 2017-05-31T07:25:11 | 34 | 20 |
[FF] 100 Words or Less - The parachute isn't opening up
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7 long years I've waiting for this. We jump from the plane. If my math is correct, I have about about a minute and change. I talk the second we exit. Thank God we have a radio.
"I know who are you. And I know what you did." I'm much calmer than I expected to be.
"What?" he shouts back.
"My name is John Kessler. It's the same last name as the woman and child you ran over 7 years ago. Nice to meet you."
I smile as sweet justice makes it way towards us at 32ft per second squared.
|
Jason was a veteran now. Over one thousand jumps, every one going off without a hitch. Today he hadn’t packed his own chute. He had been late and Tony had done it for him. He skipped his usual ritual and just jumped on the plane, flinging the lethal parachute over his shoulder. The ground is approaching now, but it’s impossible to tell how long until impact.
*How do I tell this poor fucker strapped to me..* he thought as they plummeted to their deaths, *I hope Tony sees and lands his girlfriend somewhere else.*
| 2014-05-15T12:57:00 | 2014-05-15T12:45:24 | 51 | 16 |
[WP] You are a dark god. The police raided your temple, arrested your cultists, and ate the pb&j sandwich that your youngest worshiper left on your altar
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I sat in the deep, dark recesses of the world. The cracks, crypts, and caverns where others dared not go. It was in this silence that I thrived. This new world had not been kind to me. Most of my worshippers had died or abandoned me long ago. Only one shrine remained, a pathetic excuse for a temple, a place for lost souls to come and beg for something, anything else. Anyone with anywhere else to go would be there. Anyone with any other option would pray to another god. My remaining faithful were downtrodden and broken. Their offerings were meager. Tonight on my shrine sat a stolen earring, a handful of coins, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I watched over them all as they gave to me the only things they had.
The stolen earring was from a worshipper who went by Starla, though that was not her true name. She had taken it from the house where she worked as a maid, careful to take only one so that if it was noticed, it could be construed simply as lost. It brought her joy to steal from the mistress of the house because she was disrespectful and rude. What Starla prayed for was a better paying job and an end to her suffering, but what she truly wanted was to beat her employer senseless. Nathan brought a handful of coins, a small tribute that was all that remained of his weekly wages after spending the majority on his addiction. He had a family once, but all that remained of those happy times were vague memories. He couldn’t admit it to himself, but he could no longer remember their faces, the sound of their laughter, or even why he had loved them so much in the first place. All he knew now was the chase and the high. He rode a wave of synthetic happiness until he came down, then begged, borrowed, and stole for another hit, another ride. These coins represented all that he had in the world, and he gave them to me, praying that he could kick this habit and get clean. What Nathan really wanted was to get lost in the high and never come down again. And then there was Eli. He was so tiny and fragile, had already experienced so much in his life. I wondered how he could stand it. How he could bear the thought of waking up to do it all again tomorrow? The sandwich was complete and whole, without even a teeth mark or crumb torn away. He offered this tribute, his dinner, and prayed that his mother would come home unharmed tonight. Unlike my other worshippers, Eli always asked for exactly what he wanted.
I looked at my three worshippers and decided that I would grant Eli’s wish. His mother would be safe, at least this evening. His offering pleased me. It was almost enough to warm an old dark god’s heart. I watched over her until she finished with the last of her clients and made sure that no harm came to her. Turning my gaze back towards my shrine, I was surprised to see my three worshippers in handcuffs, Nathan bruised and bloodied, Starla pushed face first towards the ground, and Eli with tear stained cheeks. A handful of uniformed officers swarmed my shrine. One of them took the earring and placed it in a bag. They then took the coins and placed them in a bag. Looking around, and noticing they were ignored, they then took my sandwich. MY. SANDWICH. MY. OFFERING. And they ate it. Eli watched as my shrine was desecrated and his tribute swallowed, bite after incriminating bite. He began to cry and pray that I would still watch after his mother. I smiled and crept from the shadows of my home. I would watch out for them all tonight. No one stole from me. Especially not when it came to my favorite worshipper. It was time to show this new world that the old one had never left, that it had always been lurking just below the surface. Perhaps I had grown complacent? Content to sleep and let these humans live their lives. Well tonight, I would change that. These three faithful had served me well. From now on, I would serve them too.
**Edit: Holy cow, this is crazy! Obligatory first gold/award comment - thank you so much! Thanks everyone for the positive comments. I'll definitely be posting a part two since there's so much interest and I'll try to get around to a backstory as well. (Also, changed to senseless, thanks u/Lord_Malgus!)
** Second Edit: Yeah, this is continuing to be crazy. Thanks for the silver! This is more notice than I've ever gotten on any other writing prompts/projects! I've created a [subreddit](https://new.reddit.com/r/LCWaters/) where I'll be posting the additional parts of the story if you're interested. Thanks so much for the support!
|
**WARNING: SEMI ADULT CONTENT**
The ever-pervading darkness, the One Who turns Blood to Ice, the monster under every child's bed
*Lame*, I thought. These were the titles they had crafted for me?
I was fine with having a dark cult- yeah, pretty much *deserved* one after all the shit I had pulled off during my mortal and, later, my immortal life- but is this truly what remained of my legacy of badassery and bloodshed?
Well- it had been a hundred years since I'd seen some action- maybe it was time they were all reminded of who I *really* was. They thought I was some stone statue, with a cruel face and a hard-on for gratuitous violence... well, that last part was true. But I was not Something that demanded child sacrifices or weird sex rituals. Gods, they were so off-base. Idiots.
One of the few joys I had left in my "church" was my youngest worshiper- he actually *got* me. Every week, people brought me gold, jewels- shit I couldn't use. But Tiny Timothy, he brought me a PB&J that was *loaded* with his religious fervor. What a sweet, deranged little kid.
*In fact, isn't it time for "service"?* I wondered, and I pulled my mind from the Cosmos, peering down at my "church".
*I really got to start listening when people pray.* I grumbled, seeing my church laid to ruin.
Police were outside- my cultists were in chains- and *a police captain was eating MY GODS-DAMNED SANDWICH?!*
That was beyond the pale. I strapped on my ass-kicking boots, cargo pants, and a black muscle shirt. Oh, yeah- a bra- couldn't go on a murderous rampage with the girls flying about left and right.
Descending to the Earth- or Ascending, depending on which way you prescribed to The Truth, I formed in a cloud of mist.
In this body, I was roughly eight feet tall, my skin made of ink and obsidian- and my eyes shone with bloodlust. "You *filth!*" I screamed, slapping the PB&J out of the police captain's hand. I then sank my hand into his chest, piercing straight through his breastplate and into his heart.
What followed next was an eminently satisfying massacre- though it could have done with some background music. Rob Zombie, perhaps?
After all was said and done, I began to free my slav-... servants.
"Goddess! Oh, thank you!" Some of them shouted.
"Gross." I replied, then went and knelt next to Tiny Timothy. "I like your sandwiches, little man. Keep 'em coming."
I looked to my High Priest, who had been rendered unconscious. I loosed some of my Obsidian Smoke, which brought him around. "Hey, dork. Who sent the cops?" I asked.
"My...lady..." He croaked, reaching toward me with a trembling hand.
I slapped it away. "Don't try and cop a feel just cuz you got your ass kicked."
The High Priest smirked. "Was I that obvious?" His voice wasn't weakened at all.
"As the rising sun, yes. Who sent the *godsdamnmotherfucking cops?*"
He scowled. "Darius, I bet. He's the Chief of Police, and he serves the Ashen Queen."
I rolled my eyes. "She's been immortal for, what, thirty years? She's a baby, and she's trying to pick a fight with me?" I stood. "Here's what we're gonna do. We're gonna hit back, hard, and make her forget her plans to be a pain in my perfectly-sculpted ass. But direct warfare amongst the Gods is forbidden, so looks like you're going to lead the charge."
Opening a portal, I summoned a ride. "Here, have a weapon for your warfare, idiot. Bring it back with a full tank...and, happy hunting. Be safe." I said, handing the keys to my High Priest.
"Your will, my lady." He said, turning his attention to the decked-out hearse she had gifted him.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've got Part II on my (subreddit!)[https://old.reddit.com/r/nystorm_writes/comments/gny8wc/badassery_bloodshed_pt_i_ii/]
I do intend to add more still. I realized as I was writing Pt. II, there was no good way for me to make it a *short* short story... so now it'll be a medium one ;)
| 2020-05-19T20:16:38 | 2020-05-19T19:50:23 | 3,429 | 224 |
[WP] Your middle school librarian has never failed on a book request. As a prank, you request a copy of the Necronomicon. Ten minutes later, the librarian returns, slightly scorched, ancient book in hand, saying, "Due back in 3 weeks."
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We stood there with our mouths and eyes wide open. Al continued to stand there with the book in his hand, his clothes still smoking and eyebrows missing. "I said, it's due back in 3 weeks." He shoved the heavy tome into my hands and began limping back to his desk.
Howard was the first to speak. "Don't open it," he said. "Just give it back to Mr. Azif and we pretend this never happened." Howard began trembling just looking at the cracked leather binding.
Frank began laughing. "Please, it's just some stupid prank that Mr. Azif is trying to pull on us. I'm actually amazed that he went to the trouble of even shaving his eyebrows off to make it look real!" Frank took the book into his hands and began examining the cover. "He really went all out on this thing. It feels like someone filled it up with rocks!"
I glanced over at Mr. Azif while Howard and Frank continued to argue over the book. Mr. Azif had taken off his shirt and was bandaging a huge laceration across his chest. Based on all the scars, it certainly wasn't the first time.
"I think we need to talk to Mr. Azif about this book," I said rather loudly. "I don't think this is the first time someone's requested this book. Look." We watched as Mr. Azif began chanting softly as he pulled out a sheet of paper. Using the blood still oozing from his chest, he began writing.
We slowly approached Mr. Azif, watching as he continued to dip his finger into his chest as he filled the page. "Uh... Mr. Azif?" I squeaked. "We have a question."
Mr. Azif did not stop chanting but turned his head. He nodded in encouragement.
"I... didn't really want this book. There was a rumor that you could find any book, even the Necronomicon and that you had loaned it out before." I said, my voice cracking over the soft whispers of Mr. Azif. "I'm really sorry if you went to a lot of trouble for this book, but I would like to return it right now." I slowly placed the book on his desk and waited.
Mr. Azif paused and stared into my eyes. "William. The rumors were true. I am a librarian that can find you any book that you may request. It is also true that you are not the first to request this cursed book." He took the paper, still wet with fresh blood, and placed it gingerly into my hands. "However, the 3 weeks that I gave you was not for the book." My eyes began scanning the letter Mr. Azif had given me. "You must return here in 3 weeks to face the Old Ones. That letter and that cursed book are the only things that can save you now. May your god save you."
***
edit - I must admit, I am surprised how much this blew up overnight! As I always say, the best story can be found in the comments since there will always be a better edit made with fresh eyes.
The requests for more... this is a first. We'll wait and see! I suppose this is when I start my own subreddit to keep up with these requests?
edit - [The end,](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/51v4oc/wp_your_middle_school_librarian_has_never_failed/d7grfm7) as requested!
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I stepped into the Walden Library. It was a strange Building. Only four stories high, plus a basement, but it seemed to tower over you. The architect had wanted to make a building in a strange shape with no right angles so as to help the occupants not feel "Boxed in" but in reality this just made the inside of the building hard to understand, walls were impossible to find, the library didn't use the Dewey decimal system but the Congregational system so you couldn't find a book just by the authors name, if you went to the top floor you would almost certainly get lost, the fire escape signs were of no help whatsoever as they essentially said "Run in every direction", on the third floor it felt as though you were being watched, the homeless stayed away from it, and there was an odd tile ring on the basement floor.
Everyone in town joked that something satanic was going on or had gone on there, me and my friends especially. The four of us walked into the library laughing and whispering to each other, and briefly had some difficulty navigating the security gate. I walked up, drew my library card out of my wallet and stepped up to the librarian at the desk. She was a relatively young woman with the traditional school teacher glasses with a string of beads around her neck and a bright pink shirt on.
"Hello ma'am. I'm looking for a book."
She sighed in irritation. "What book? I can look it up for you."
"I believe its called...." I put on a shit eating grin and paused for dramatic effect. "The Necronomicon." my friends burst out laughing.
Her eyes narrowed. "Well that's..."
She was interrupted by one of her bosses who asked her into the back. She disappeared. The four of us started laughing, making fun of this place, making fun of the librarian by claiming she was a lesbian and such, and in general joking around.
She returned a minute later, swiped my card before i had a chance to say anything and slammed a burnt book on the desk. We all fell silent. "Due back in three weeks. Your card is expired but in this case I made an exception." She said with a grin.
I paused for a minute. "That's not... real, is it?"
"Take it and find out."
"I don't want it. I'm returning it."
"Oh I'm afraid its far too late for that." She said with a giggle.
I slowly reached for it. "Dude, lets just go. Leave it here."
"Nah." I said suddenly loud. "I'm sure it's not real." I picked the book up and flipped it open. the pages seemed strangely leathery, and the ink was a strange dark brown.
I opened my mouth and said "SARNITSH IVROQU..." before I was interrupted.
"Don't read that here you idiot." She snapped as the lights fluttered.
The four of us stepped out of the library. All those years ago. Even with those few words we awoke terrible forces. Those of us who did not kill ourselves, as I am about to, were driven insane by that...thing. The things that haunt us. Scratch at the walls and slink about in the darkness. Those horrible things.
They are here. I can hear them. They are coming.
Coming for me.
(Okay so I missed the middle school thing until just now. But here you go.)
| 2016-09-08T20:47:45 | 2016-09-08T20:41:53 | 1,198 | 149 |
[WP] "Captain... the human didn't put on it's anti-warp gear before we jumped." "Sad to hear, prepare the coffin and jettison it." "No, sir. The human... nothing's happened to it. It didn't go insane from seeing infinity in the stars."
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Captain’s Log: 2437.04.08
The human, the one that calls itself ‘Cassandra’ (I hope I’m spelling that right), never ceases to amaze me. Ever since we picked it up from that freighter, I feel like we’re learning something new about it.
Just today, one of our crew dropped the ball and forgot to inform it that we’d be warping through QB-642 (The Braize System). “It was just a short jump, one that we’d done over a dozen times. I thought it would know by now, and I completely forgot,” Lumang admitted to me.
I, not knowing the extent of human resilience, informed him to prepare a casket and jettison it and that it was a regrettable loss, but just then I suddenly heard Cassandra squeal with what I assume is delight; I’ve heard it make the same sort of noise before, after it consumed its favorite food or some such ‘joyous’ event.
And there, through the door of my quarters scampered in the happiest human I’d ever seen. It exclaimed, using the universal translator we’d given it on a lark, “Did you see it?! The stars! There’s so many!”
Naturally perplexed, I asked it if it had donned the anti-warp gear, as we’ve trained.
“The glasses? No,” it told me. (Thank god universal translators work with such basic vocal cord arrays) “They’re so dark. I felt the bump of the warp and then Lumang looked at me, then ran to your quarters. Prolly (sic) to tell you about the stars.”
I blinked in stunned shock. I was about to order a battery of tests to be performed, to evaluate its mental state before it told me, “It looks like something I saw before! Do you have any mirrors?”
Still shocked from seeing that the infinity of the stars seemingly had no effect on the human, I obliged and handed it a mirror that I kept on my desk. It shook its head. “I need another one.”
Curious, I stood up and led it to the bathing quarters; I knew there was a large mirror in there. I know Cassandra did, too, for it seemed anxious about arriving there. Cassandra, if nothing else, is a little ball of energy. I’m thankful that it hadn’t been driven insane; its companionship has certainly held back the tedium of this long voyage…
After leading it to the mirror in the bathing area, it stood with its back facing the large mirror, as it held the smaller mirror in front of its face. “Like this!” It cheered. “Like this!”
Now, morbidly curious, I held my hand out for it to give me the mirror, which it did, baring its teeth with a twinkle in its eye. I’m still uncertain what this display means, but there’s something in my that fears it, or at least has a healthy respect for it, in retrospect.
I held the mirror up to my face, standing with my back to the larger mirror, just as the human did and beheld…Infinity! I dropped the mirror from shock, as the human made a sound not unlike that of a laugh.
The image is still burned in my mind, I cannot unsee it. Hundreds and thousands of copies of me, stretched down an infinite hallway…
This bears more research, for certain. How could we have been so blind before?
After posting this log, I’m going to requisition more mirrors. The question is, where am I going to find volunteers to perform future experiements?
|
"This joke is either in poor taste or incredibly poor taste, Grane." Grane quickly shook his head to indicate the negative, misting his superior's face with unevaporated dampening fluid in the process. The inner lid of captain Vestan's right eye twitched, but she did not repeat herself. If he'd only so recently gotten around to peeling off his warp skin - nearly half an hour post-jump - perhaps he was being sincere. Mistaken, of course. But sincere. Grane continued.
"It was very upset at first-"
"Very upset?" Vestan interrupted. "It saw beyond the veil and was 'very upset'? Not utterly lifeless or possessed by a bottomless omnicidal fury? Just-" Grane spoke again, apparently more eager to finish his report than retain his position.
"-at first, yes. Very upset. It had a good cry, the eye-kind they do. But it was better-composed by the time I arrived with the suppression team. Red around the face and a bit of leakage from the upper mouth part but sane and whole enough to argue against being euthanized." Vestan waited, but it seemed that Grane didn't have anything else to offer unprompted. Her expression softened slightly; he wasn't taking this any worse than she would have at his age, and his joints must itch terribly after having been saturated by dampening fluid for so long.
"Where is it now? Medical, I hope." Grane nodded, his scaled mane now dry and bobbing crisply.
"Yes sir. It requested the examination before we could. It's quarantined and being assessed via two-way by chiefs Avo and Anso."
"And have they discovered anything yet as to how, or what, or... any of it?" The color under Grane's chin faded, and he sagged. Vestan's lips curled back instinctively at so visceral a display. Still - her authority demanded that she embody the principle of virtuous restraint. Her people had spent the better part of their history cultivating this most precious thing. Denying their basest truths, as the gurus said. It was good that it was not easy. It had led them to the stars. She clung to this idea, rolled it over and over in her mind, and after many long moments she found the strength to speak again. Quietly, evenly. Calmly.
"Grane. What did they find?" The stench of Grane's fear filled her chambers.
"Nothing, sir. Nothing at all. But the human talked to them while they worked, easier than I'm speaking to you now sir. That's the answer you want, I think. But I don't think you should want it, sir. I think we should kill it, sir." Vestan's teeth knit together so tightly that her words buzzed as they seeped through into the fog of Grane's cowardice.
"Tell me." Grane closed his eyes.
"It said that their people became familiar with the face of the infinite long before they reached the stars. Gave it names, gave it stories. Said that it's a fear as old as fire. Some of them face it nightly, even into maturity, but nearly all of them know it for some part of their childhood. Not a sacred thing, it said. Just a... bad memory."
| 2020-07-14T03:55:51 | 2020-07-14T02:57:54 | 61 | 41 |
[WP] The rules are simple: Do not be outside on October 31st. Ignore the figured in the fog, appearing like children dressed in costumes. Do not answer the door, no matter how they beg for candy or sound like your own children. And do not tell them your name.
|
They say time heals all wounds. Well, whoever *they* are, they're wrong. Some wounds fester, burst open and worsen.
It's been six years since the final Halloween. Apparently, the disappearance of a billion children in a single night can kill any festivity normally associated with that day.
Alone, that would have been tragic enough on its own. But the universe is a sadistic bitch who really knows how to twist the knife.
Nobody was prepared for the first Night of Lost Children. Meteorologists were puzzled by the uniformly thick mists that poured in and refused to dissipate, especially because they seemed to be causing interference with radio signals. From dawn the day of until sunrise the next day, the whole world was shrouded in the sinister vapor. Fearing a chemical weapon attack, government advisories went out, advising citizens to remain indoors
As dusk fell on the areas closest to the international date line, the first sightings came in. Small figures dashing through the swirling fog. Childish laughter and squeals of joy. Videos abounded on social media of blurry figures that looked like children in costume and hope soared as some speculated that their children were being returned.
It didn't take long for more videos to arise, in which the sounds of juvenile merriment were accompanied by hoarse screams of terror and pain, like the infamous Australian "Come with me, mommy," video.
Half the world was lost that night and the already strained civilization found its back entirely shattered in the trauma.
I don't know why I'm writing all this down. You probably already know all about it, whoever you are. Either that or this will never be found. Either way, it's been a bit cathartic and has helped me come to a decision.
Today is October 31st, 2027, and I think I might be the last human left alive. I haven't seen anyone in months, and they're outside right now, laughing as they tell me of the deaths of everyone I ever knew.
They're saying I'm all alone now, and damn me but I think I believe them. And they know. They've been trying to coax me out of my cabin since the sun set.
If you're reading this, then I guess they were lying.
Either way, I'm going out on my own terms. I won't let them have me.
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When they told me not to go out I always thought it was bullshit. What else, who else could be the monster that roamed the nights than the humans of this city. After all, they looked identical to a person, fluid motions only replicable by a living being.
So I wondered. Why would they not let me out. I sat slumped by the fireplace, the fog spreading its winters caress in summerside America. While I enjoyed the warmth of the fire, I recalled what mother had told me years back. When I was a wee little kid, smaller than the trash can beside my desk. In this town, she said. Never leave this place on the 31st of October. Back then I didn't even know what 31 was let alone October, but she repeated it to me every month, every year. Almost like some ritual. Except this wasn't Christmas or thanksgiving, or some fun holiday tradition, this felt much different. No. It was different.
But I just didn't know why.
My thoughts were interrupted by the placing of tender hands that I instantly recognised as my mothers. Her hands used to be much softer and warm but as age caught up with her, a texture of rubber had taken over. I must admit she was as warm as ever. I turned around and stared into her green aurora eyes and reminisced about last year, when she had looked at me the same way. This exact time and place and year and month and day. The 31st of October.
She crept up closer to my sides and leaned in as if she was flirting with me, except her demeanour was stiff and posture serious. "Don't answer the door". She pulled back taking a moment to breathe in, then once again placing her lips near my ears and whispering, "No matter how they beg for candy". My heart beat began to beat louder and stronger, mixing in with the tune of her voice that I had heard many times before. "Or sound like your own children". I closed my eyes, and waited for the last part, I would repeat with her.
"And do not tell them your name", we sang out in unison. I turned to her smile now plastered on her face once again. The usual mother I recognised that eerily disappeared for that one day per year.
| 2021-10-31T18:46:25 | 2021-10-31T14:36:37 | 113 | 38 |
[WP] A little girl dies and is accidentally sent to Hell to where the Demons don't know what to do with her.
Edit 1. Holy crap did this get a response 0_0
Edit 2. Jesus Puppy Christ is this getting attention.
|
Phil was tired.
Granted, Phil had spent a hundreds of years in Hell, slowly grinding his way up the infernal bureaucratic ladder. He had started at the bottom rung, not even allowed to speak. Now, he was a rhymer. Not a higher-up, but it was definite progress. He was reflecting when his intercom buzzed.
"Sir? We have a situation here."
Phil sighed. It was always a situation.
**"Report, report, send words to me,**
**Report, report, oh Demon #3."**
"Sir, I think we have a traveler."
A traveler. That was the nice way of saying the paperwork had been switched. Someone who shouldn't be here most definitely was. That meant having to call upstairs. Way upstairs.
**"Worry not about such things.**
**I'll make a call to those dicks with wings."**
Phil hated calling those sanctimonious angels. Luckily, he only had to do it once every 50 years or so.
"Thank you for calling Paradise, this is Gabriel. What can I do for you?"
That voice was grating in it's purity. Phil sighed, knowing what was coming next.
**"It seems to me you've hit a snag**
**And forgot to cross a line.**
**Now we have an extra soul,**
**A little girl of nine.**
**If you could send a ride for her,**
**I'd be much more relaxed.**
**If you should just leave her here,**
**Then surely I'll be sacked."**
"Ah, yes. Little Melissa. I'll send a retrieval unit that should arrive in a few hours."
Phil was surprised. Maybe Gabriel wouldn't say anything this time. Then, as if on cue, the angel chuckled.
"Phil, how do you feel about green eggs and ham?"
**"Gabriel, your razor-wit**
**Moves so very fast.**
**Now kindly come and get this girl**
**And shove it up your ass."**
Phil slammed the phone down, and buzzed Demon #3 to let them know about the retrieval. No answer. Thinking how nice it would be to stretch his legs, Phil decided to let them know in person.
When he opened the door, he was startled to find Demons #3, #4, and #6 laying on the ground next to a girl he assumed was Melissa, playing with plastic dolls and giggling like children. On seeing Phil, the demons jumped up and tried to hide the toys. Melissa got up slowly and walked over to Phil.
"Would you like to play with us, mister?"
Phil couldn't help but smile.
**"Because we have some time to kill**
**Until your ride comes thence,**
**I suppose that we can play a game**
**As long as I'm the Prince."**
|
"This is complete torture." Klatch said oblivious to the irony in his words.
Every second spent not punishing filthy heathens felt like a millennia. Yet here he was pacing back and forth with no one to release his frustrations on.
"Um... I'm really sorry sir, I bet this is my fault some how." she stares at Klatchs hooves as she speaks no doubt to afraid to make eye contact with his horrifying muzzle.
Klatch stares intensely at her as if to will her into the sinner that he had hoped he would feast on before letting out another sigh.
"Enough of that little one humility has no place here." Klatch said resined to his fate.
Klatch stares off into the endless hordes of torture in the distance. He knows that he only has himself to blame for this predicament. Children in Hell were a rare thing being to young to be held accountable for their sins most were reincarnated in some other form. But every century or two a child comes that is filled with such hate and pure evil that no other form could sustain them. Catching one such child was a rare treat for the demons of Hell. When he got a glimpse of her in the distance he rushed to her with all his might only to be nearly overwhelmed by her purity. He then sent a familiar to an overseer to sort out this mess.
Working up her courage the brat lifts her head to stare at his chest. "M, Mr. Satan maybe i should have gone with your friend, I think he got lost."
"I am not that posh socialite Lucifer nor was that meager minion my friend, merely a slave to serve my whims." he said this with more melancholy in his voice than anger.
"Speak of the us." Klatch said as his winged minion flew in his sight.
"Well." Klatch said his impatience coming to head.
"Da big gal wit da whip sas dat she's busy and will take care of it in a week or so." peeped the winged messenger.
"WHAT THIS IS UNHEARD OF THAT FAT LAZY BUREAUCRAT I WILL SEND HER TO THE SEVENTH WHEN I FIND HER AND DRAIN HER OF ALL HER..." Klatch stopped his tirade when he felt a tugging on his tail.
"Um Mr. Demon if you want you can torture me I bet I can scream really loud too." she said finally getting the nerve to reach eye contact.
Klatch stared at her with eye cocked for a moment before his face brought on a wicked and evil grin. Not because of any evil intentions but because that was the only smile he could make.
"Come little one Cerberus is probably awake, do you by chance like puppies?"
| 2013-11-26T16:23:25 | 2013-11-26T15:52:45 | 220 | 11 |
[WP] You've always dreamed of becoming a supervillain when you got your powers, and just because you were bestowed the power of healing doesn't change anything
|
It's true, I was very discouraged at first. I have always wanted to rule the world and crush any resistance with my powers. All that seemed impossible when my power turned out to be healing. Weeks I spent ignoring my abilities. Hiding at home, playing video games and slowly giving into despair. In retrospect of course, playing video games turned out to be the perfect inspiration.
Must have been a night like this, when my eyes opened. I was fighting an incredibly difficult boss. After many tries, his health finally dropped to it's last sliver and then started filling up again. As it turned out, the boss was simply a brute and the true villain, some kind of mage, healed him whenever necessary. I had found my calling.
I spent the better part of a decade honing my skills. No hero tried to stop me of course. Why would they? I was simply healing people. At first, I could only heal those I touched. A humble beginning. Now of course, there is no limit to how far away I can be an I don't even need to know a person to heal them. I simply feel all living things and can decide to heal them, if necessary.
Over the years, I gathered an army of the sick and desperate. Promising health for them and their families. The best part is, I don't even break my word. When I order my minions to attack someone, they do it without second thought. Even if they died in gruesome ways, they know their wounds will heal within moments and they will return.
Even some of the so called heroes came to my side. Some believing there was no way to beat me, which is correct and others ready to fight for a world without sickness or suffering, even if that means I rule them all.
The actual conquering of the world was easy, almost disappointing really. Whenever we reached a city, I would simply heal all their sick. Most of the time, they surrendered to me afterwards and joined my army. The few times that this wasn't enough, I simply let my loyal subjects charge.
It's been almost a century since the last real resistance to my rule was crushed, luckily I'm still as young and healthy as ever.
|
What is good and what is evil? The answer has been redefined with every new philosopher trying to make a name for him- or herself.
Since the first super powers manifested, two fractions were made: The first would help people in need, curb natural disasters and help fight crime. The second fractions would do none of these things, but instead rob banks and jewellery stores. The fractions quickly became known as Heroes and Villains, referring to the cartoon style binary interpretation we had known for so long.
I was one of the precious few who saw through the deception in which everyone believed: The Heroes actually did what they did to gain power. They gained people's trust and they received more freedom as time passed by, to mete out their version of justice as they saw fit. And the police force backed them up. Entire countries voted to change the laws to accomodate the Heroes, and thus in a larger perspective, it was these super powered people who actually wrote the laws.
The Villains wanted to oppose the influence of the Heroes, but for this, they needed money. Not having the love of the people, they didn't get the resources either.
Massive fundings went into maintaining the practical everyday necessities of the Heroes as well as their battle gear. For the Villains, these things had to be acquired by other means.
The time would soon come where our country's people would see how their beloved Heroes had become their oppressors - and when that time came, they would turn to us Villains for help. But there was no way we could stand against the Heroes as things were.
However, with my newfound power, we might just have a chance. Having received my healing powers, I knew what to do: Become known as the best doctor available because whatever treatment I gave for whatever disease, would always work. And from there I would be in a position where I could decide who would live and who wouldn't. To make these decisions properly would require an insane amount of time and dedication, but we Villains were all about planning and preparing.
| 2019-01-30T04:46:58 | 2019-01-30T04:02:21 | 51 | 29 |
[WP] You were first exposed to r/WritingPrompts when it became a default subreddit. Infuriated by its potential to develop young writers who could compete with yourself, you set out to sabotage it by submitting endless prompts about Batman, the Devil, and Time Travel.
|
Their writing's improving,
I notice, with dread.
They're refining their talent,
All I see is red.
 
I cannot allow it,
no, this cannot be.
I can't have these writers
writing better than me!
 
But how can I stop them?
Oh aye, there's the rub.
The prompts, they keep coming...
Ah. Yes. Make them dumb!
 
What if Hitler were Batman,
and time travel was real?
What if Satan were friendly,
and his touches could heal?
 
Harry Potter fights Gandalf,
Soylent green is Darth Vader!
Imagine: Portal 2...
Except *you're* the potato!
 
"What's taters, precious?",
Gollum asks Captain Kirk.
Hey, what if in Die Hard,
John McClane wore *two* shirts!?
 
Just write what you see,
never mind what you know.
Your ideas come from me,
I'm *running* this show.
 
Their stories are awful.
The deed is complete.
With their talents confined,
They cannot compete.
 
But what to write now?
Don't know why, but I'm stumped.
Hey, I know how to fix this!
I'll browse /r/WritingPrompts!
|
I, Batman, have seen too much. With a heart in pieces like the ruins of Gotham I activated my time machine. Powered by the sacrificed soul of the Joker, it hurled me back to before this madness, to when I still had time...but the Joker's madness cast me back too far! I found myself standing on a cloud, being yelled at by a majestic old man wreathed in glory who claimed I had "turned evil" and "gone dark". I snarled, "of course I'm dark, I'm the Dark Knight" and I found myself falling from Heaven. When I came to, I found I was immortal, as my ruined body painfully became whole again, as I ate of the fruit of a strange tree I had landed in. After helping out some nudists and living as a barbarian for a few millennia, I see the time is at hand for people to get the heroics they deserve. See, the Internet is reinvented, and I need those humans to blaspheme themselves by writing stories about that which should not be mocked, and inspire them to do what should not be emulated. I discovered a site which angered me like cancer, and to take it in a new direction I created a new text post in /r/writingprompts and began to type...
| 2015-04-05T10:14:58 | 2015-04-05T09:22:07 | 234 | 26 |
[WP] Adam and Eve were the first and only children of Angels and Demons interbreeding. God feared them. That is why they were sent to be bound on Earth, by the most powerful of seals. Gravity.
Edit: for those people not liking the gravity being the seal: go fu.. Na just kidding, you can just think of something else being the seal.
|
"They did WHAT?"
The booming shout actually shook the room and sent a shiver down Gabriel's spine and up his wings. There's nothing quite as terrifying as raising the ire of the almighty, and Gabriel had just delivered some particularly devastating news. Yahweh had never been a subscriber to the idea of not shooting the messenger.
"Th-they... fornicated, my Lord." Gabriel felt dirty even explaining such a sinful concept to the most pure being in the universe. "Our own Uziel and Eisheth, the succubus. Multiple times, and they've produced two children."
"This is a disaster. This is unprecedented. Do you have any idea what these... these... abominations will be capable of? They'll be angelic one moment and demonic the next. They'll have a *choice,* Gabriel! Between good and evil. Imagine that."
"Well, perhaps, my Lord, we can take them in. Raise them, teach them to follow the light, hope for the best," Gabriel suggested gingerly.
"That would never work. They're too imperfect for Heaven. But they're not evil enough for Hell. I can only think of one solution."
So, not quite in the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. He wanted to see if his theory was correct, if these chimeric beings would be not purely good and not purely evil, but some strange mixture of both.
He created a beautiful, lush garden with everything these new creatures could want, a place where they could live comfortably, in harmony with the sprawling natural world he had created just for them. To stop them from leaving, he removed their mangled half-demon half-angel wings, and placed a binding force around the globe that would keep them tethered to its surface. There was only one rule, planted by God to test the natures of the hybrids. They were not, under any circumstances, to eat from the tree God had placed in the middle of the garden.
Though the creatures were capable of both good and evil, they weren't totally aware, or capable, of either in their most extreme forms. The fruit from the tree would open their eyes fully to the extent of their abilities. They would understand the depths of potential human suffering and how to exploit it. The same was true for the unbounded extent of human joy. Upon eating the fruit, they would be able to exhibit the glory of Heaven, or plunge into the depths of Hell, depending on how they chose to live.
The plan was to drop them in the garden, explain the rule, and then observe, without interfering. Of course, things rarely go according to plan in the eternal war between good and evil. Would the creatures have made the choice they did, had there not been any interference in their world? It would have surely been a different story altogether, but alas, that is not what happened.
"Hath God said, Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?" The serpent asked, writhing and hissing almost hypnotically.
And Eve began to wonder.
|
It had started suddenly at dawn. There was a prompting from the fish or the dogs, thats what the cobras had assured us of, they said that those were the two to blame. We, for some stupid reason, believed them. The lambs, the sheep, they agreed as well. That should have been the warning to us, those two had some sort of emnity between them. We never really understood it, but it existed. Always had. Always would. The sheep would say the sky was purple if the cobras said otherwise. Before Babel fell we could speak to them, share our wisdom. Before the dawn we were free to live and explore. Unhindered. Before the dawn we turtles swam through the air, lifting off from the wind with ease. We would dive into the bubbles of water floating and merging in the air, and communicate with other life, the anemones never seemed to talk much, but the world was free, before the damnable dawn where the chains fell.
The birds noticed first, the vultures screaming in a blind panic as they slammed into the earth, their floating coming to a halt. Wings were snapped, bones were broken.The chains, huge and grey, shackled themselves around the earth and clasped, and at once. The bubbles of water slammed into and though the ground, making grand pools of water that rippled against themselves. They would never be still again, the perfect spheres that languished so carefully in the sky. So beautifully. Us animals had to move as well. The cobras weren't talking to us now, we had to stay near the water instead of flying through the spheres. We were more isolated, nothing but the fish for company, and the occasionial crab that wandered through our domain.
The crabs were more talkative, thankfully. They told us about the plan those great beings had. Like the whites to us, the universal predator. They hade made another creation. In their image. Their child. The red and white of the skin formed pink flimsy flesh. But they were smart. Well so were we! The sheep and the snakes betrayed us, as the seagulls brung word that the wolves were changing side. So be it, we could wait. And as Babel fell, and the others forgot after generations we would not. The flies took weeks after Babel to loose the knowledge. The cats and the camels had mostly joined the offspring. The wolves had split, the so called dogs lost all that made them animal. The wolves would forget soon, it had been 12 generations since babel for them. But us, we turtles had barely aged since babel. The elephants would join us, once our forces had gathered. Their memories were eidetic. We would be ready. We would be free once more.
____________________________________________________________
First prompt reply, lurked for a while. Please leave some feedback :))
Went somewhere different but :P
| 2019-06-24T07:36:59 | 2019-06-24T06:30:39 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] You have an ability to hear a ‘Ding’ sound to know if someone’s speaking the truth. One day, your childhood friend of 17 years says “I swear, I’ll kill you one day.” You both laugh but then you heard a ‘Ding’. Scared, you asked if it’s true. “No” they replied. Silence.
|
“I’ll be the death of you one day!” She said, with a toothy smile and her eyes enraptured.
*ding*
“You wouldn’t kill me!” I retorted, a mixture of joking and surprise.
“Naw.” She said, turning back to her book again.
With that, we said our goodbyes and I went home with my dad - maintaining an overwhelming sense of confusion.
Fast forward a few years and we’re on a hiking trip together. Things had gone well between Amy and I. We were dating now and I had all but forgotten about what we had once discussed.
But there we were, twelve thousand feet above ground level with nothing other than 2 feet of rock separating us and the gap. As I looked out, I noticed i could no longer see Amy’s feet in my periphery. Then, I felt it.
Hands started slipping on my back and I felt slightly propelled forward. The chasm approached me. The hands quickly wrapped around my chest tightly, “I love you,” Amy whispered as she hugged me with all her might.
*ding*
We said, “I love you,” *ding* or “I want you forever,” *ding* every single day - if not the hour!
College, jobs, struggles, kids, struggles and retirement - she stuck with me through all of it. We toured the world, saw our children become adults, have beautiful grand children and a house we’ve poured years into. We went through death, sadness and confusion holding hands. When I looked at Amy, I didn’t see a person I love - I saw
the genesis of my life and the reason for my breathe. She blessed my life for 70 years.
But here we are.
Amy kissed me last night at the weirdest hour, “I love you...” she whispered in my ear.
*ding*
“I love you, too babe” I mumbled back, still more or less asleep. I brought her into me and slumbered once more. Her head rested against my vacillating chest.
Amy died that night.
She wouldn’t move the next morning, her smile never disappeared. No words, no loving eyes and no dings.
Have you ever watched the sun plummet from the sky? Hope extinguished as you looked on? Drowned in a cacophony of sorrowful nostalgia? Been there when the show’s over and there’s no place to go back to? Heard the silence once the music stopped, while expecting to hear more?
I can’t explain the emptiness; the hollow - but I know what I need to do. I can never be made whole again and, frankly, I have no desire to.
Amy, babe, I’m coming for you. We will be together again. You kept one more promise after all these years of being my best friend, confidant and love of my life.
I’m following you while the doors still open. I don’t know what’s next, but I know I’ll see you. I told the kids, they’re sad - but they respect my wishes. I can’t go on like this if you’re not here.
I want this letter in the Will so that the kids kn-
*rest of the page is illegible due to smattered blood obscuring the words*
|
The strange concoction burns my throat on its way down; searing my insides as it searches for the pit of my despair. Everything around me is starting to blur now; the gray, stormy skies and the moon are a blur before we make our descent on to the top of the structure looming in front of us.
"Get him, now!" I mumble to the terrified boy; barely remembering my exact words as he scurries off into the darkness. My feet are beginning to wobble and creak under the weight of my unstable now, threatening to leave me in a crumpled heap on the floor. A fog begins to fill my mind with a silver mist, conjuring a memory I remember being part of many years ago.
"When you said you'll kill me, where you joking?" I ask him...
Him; my most honest and ever-present confidante in times of great moral peril.
"No," he says, his black hair billowing gently in the soft breeze. I hear a soft bell clink, like wineglasses kissing, inside my mind.
"Why do you lie to me?" I ask him, my heart sinking and shrinking away at the implications of such a possibility.
"Because you have the ability to see the truth," he replies calmly. "And I have the ability to see the future. One day, I will kill you. As much as it breaks my heart, I will have to."
The sound of footsteps snaps me away from my reverie. A boy returns in front of me, but he isn't the one I sent away for help. His hair has a silver lustre under the moonlight, and his face is contorted into an ugly mess by invisible terrors. He cries and says words I do not understand. I only catch the last phrase he utters. "*I have to kill you, or he will kill me.*"
More figures emerge from the darkness. None of them are my savior's. I recognize each and everyone of them, even in my desolate, helpless and intocicate state; a sign that each of them here is a clear and present dangerous to my goal. I do not believe in God, but my fear makes me pray. Where is he? I ask myself, aching for magic that I myself am incapable of creating.
And then, from the umbra of the shadows, he emerges. The boy from my vision... now a man, who promised to kill me. My heart sighs in relief but no one hears it. I try not to let the elation show on my face. But this is how it was all mrant to end. This is why the ones without magic pray, I realize.
I somehow manage to raise my hand in his direction and I mutter my final words. "Severus, please."
*Avada Kedavra*
As the ominous green light makes its way towards me, those two words... the most powerful in the world, the most damning, irreversible of them all, echo a thousand times in my mind. Everyone else in the room hears only the words; only I feel the love, the grief and the terrible burden of faith with which they are uttered, before I die.
r/whiteshadowthebook
| 2019-05-27T05:44:42 | 2019-05-27T04:24:14 | 338 | 251 |
[WP]Every intelligent, skilled or rich human has been evacuated from the Earth to avoid the alien invasion. This leaves the dregs, criminals and the poor behind on Earth to fend for themselves. Centuries later, the other return to "liberate" Earth only to find that they have won and prospered.
|
For all the scans of the planet's surface and drone inspections showing the state of all former major cities - now desolate wastelands overgrown with moss, grass and towering trees - nothing could have prepared Camille and her crew for what lay beyond her ship.
They hadn't expected to be stopped at checkpoints along the way, or for a spaceport to be in operation where they chose to land, or to have to use their shields when attempting to land on their own planet, and it really should have been their first warning that something was incredibly _wrong_ that these things happened in the first place. Perhaps these were remnants of the Riiken invader technology, overpowered by those left behind...?
As the captain's sturdy, solid boots touched tile on the pristine, grandiose docking station of her ancestors' home planet, she couldn't help but feel a little choked up, a wave of nostalgia for the stories she heard as a child at night after hours upon hours of tutoring pulsing through her very soul...
She was quickly brought out of that by the unmistakable sound of energy weapons being primed - and not those of her crew.
"State your name and purpose here." The woman who spoke had her weapon trained on Camille. This was not treatment she was used to, even as a starship captain. Where was the fanfare, the warm welcome? Where were the Riiken, where was the eternal smouldering fire? It almost rattled her too much. But with the looming threat of possible death and the suspicion that these poor humans were brainwashed slaves, she steeled herself for whatever the next moments could hold for her crew, and gave te newest version of the Spacebound Naval salute.
"Camille Dejardin, captain of the SSS Voyager," she said, tone neutral and steady as the woman gave her a very obvious look up and down. Crude. "We are... voyagers, exploring warp-ready planets for trade." If the Riiken were still here, she couldn't give away their true purpose on the planet. "We come in peace. We request to meet with your masters."
A deathly silence filled the terminal. Several people holding energy weapons fixed cold glares on Camille alone. Even in the pits of the venomous Vilkani race, she'd never felt quite as shaken as she did at this very moment.
A moment broken by raucous laughter, and the crew of the Voyager looked at one another, confused, uneasy. Each crewmember placed a hand delicately at their hip, close to their weapon. Camille stood fast.
"Masters?" the woman responded, incredulous. "I don't know about my _masters_, _captain_, but I'm sure Ambassador Aguilar would love to see you right about now." Turning away from the captain, she yelled into the darkness beyond. "_Yo Candy!_ Looks like we've got some saviours here to talk to our masters!"
"Oh, that don't get old."
His voice wasn't deep, but it crunched like gravel on every word. Did they still smoke tobacco here? Back on the Martian base Camille grew up on, anyone who smoked used a vape pen, and it was still considered crass. She'd only ever read about tobacco use in books. Could it still be grown here? What else were they growing? Lazy, padding footsteps approached the gate where her crew were being penned in like animals, flimsier than her steel-capped boots.
The ambassador was... short. Short and tan with dark hair, clean-looking in a crisp suit, missing a few key elements such as a tie and a dress shirt replaced by a crew neck t-shirt in a bright green colour with pink accents. Under the grey suit, it stood out, and only just covered tattoos that originated on his shoulders, presumably. He grinned a wide, toothy grin and walked right past the security detail, tall men and women who nodded as he did so. Camille tucked back her platinum blonde hair and looked down at the gentleman before her.
“Wilkommen, bienvenue, welcome!” he murmured, holding a hand out. Her crew shifted uneasily behind her. “Glücklich zu sehen, je suis enchanté…!” She seemed perturbed, but shook his hand carefully, as if it might explode. His smile softened. “…happy to see you. My name is Candy Aguilar.” She visibly balked at the revelation, and the ambassador just grinned. “Your crew look tired. Let my guys take them to the canteen. We can accompany them there, if it worries you.”
She knew if she refused, her crew may be imprisoned, hurt. Reluctantly, she nodded, and as they walked her eyes darted around, looking for signs of the Riiken. For a good stretch, the ambassador merely watched her, dark eyes hiding their intent. It made her nervous, much more than she already had been, but she tried not to show it. But after the first few corridors and the first stairwell, Ambassador Aguilar let out a melodic little laugh, rough like sandpaper. She didn’t dare ask why.
“What’s the matter, _hermana_?” Did… did he just call her _sister_? “You look tense.” She didn’t respond, her mind not working quick enough as she took in the environment. Clean, tiled, off-white. Some decorations lined the walls. Paintings of wars she didn’t recognise, motivational posters with kittens in patterns she’d never seen before. It had been said that exposure to radiation in space had irreversibly changed the DNA of everyone and everything their ancestors took with them. Perhaps the animals she would see here would look different, somehow… The ambassador must have noticed her confusion, for he gave another one of those giggles, like a glockenspiel being smacked by a glass nail file.
“I don’t know what your books taught you, _hermana_,” he murmured, just quiet enough for only Camille to hear. “But the people your ancestors left behind were not stupid.”
A chill ran down her spine, an unmistakable thrill of excitement and terror combined. What had they missed all these centuries past...?
|
The Secretary for Defence looked out of the flagship's bridge. Formerly from the Navy, he had seen and read about how the human defence forces had evolved quickly over a matter of centuries. Space was the ocean in which they sailed, not water. The Air Force no longer primarily flew in the air, though atmospheric operations were still possible. The Army had become more dynamic to suit the needs of fighting in all terrains. A flotilla of spacecraft, backed up by fighter craft capable of space and atmospheric dogfighting, and entire divisions of soldiers re-trained for Earth combat, were waiting for the signal. Humanity was finally ready.
He reflected on the stories of the humans left on Earth to fight and die. It had been said that there was no chance for them; that these were truly the scum of the planet who wouldn't be missed. The jokes abounded that some politicians and entertainers were among them, but those were among the first to buy tickets for the escape craft. Those surface-dwellers were as good as dead. The initial intelligence reports, however, reported that there was still human activity on the planet. The Joint Chiefs of Staff concluded that the aliens had most likely kept humanity alive as a slave race; which in turn became potent propaganda for the humans who had escaped. Every soldier, sailor and spaceman was boiling with rage and empathy for the slaves on Earth. They were ready to take back what was theirs.
He turned on his heel, and went to his personal landing craft. One more chance for the aliens. It wouldn't be ethical to attack without declaring war, even if there was no more Geneva Convention to govern that.
Sergeant Juliet was confused. She certainly wouldn't have expected a call from... Spaceport Clearance Network, asking her for her clearance code. Of course she wouldn't have had an answer, and replied as best as she could: Human Warship inbound. Requesting spaceport clearance. She wouldn't have expected it to be approved. It was. She immediately reported it to her superior, but had her own mixed thoughts about it. There were so many layers of leadership that a report like that needed to go through; it was quite plainly frustrating to have to wait in orbit for this long.
Eventually, there was a response from the higher leadership. The Secretary for Defence himself would be going down planetside, and his personal craft needed a communicator. She volunteered herself.
"Welcome to Earth. It is my pleasure to finally see our brothers and sisters who escaped into the stars so many centuries ago." Their representative was cordial enough in greeting them. Flanked by powered armour exoskeletons, he - or she - calmly shook hands with the Secretary of Defence. Compared to the Secretary, who was bulky and muscular after years and years of fighting and training, the being before them was lithe and slim. She stood a head shorter than the Secretary, who stared through her with his hard blue eyes.
Sergeant Juliet saw it all from the cockpit. She wasn't invited to the feast, as they needed a duty communicator to alert the Flotilla if things went south. But she didn't mind, so long as they brought nice foods back to her. That is, if Earth had kept the nice parts of its culture. The history books had made a big deal of Earth cuisine.
The Secretary of Defence, accompanied by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the Defence Forces Sergeant Major, were escorted into the room by the representative. They walked through a hallway dedicated to human achievements, both past and present. [A film depicted the adventures of a bespectacled hunter](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/9jo10z/wp_it_has_been_5_years_since_the_alien_invasion/e6twvg7/?context=3), helped by a woman who looked suspiciously like the Earth representative. Lithe figure, with short black hair. The command team assumed that was what women on Earth looked like now; it was a practical look after all. They had bigger fish to fry, especially the celebrations and peace negotiations. The re-migration back to Earth was another concern for the government on Earth-II.
At dinner, they had to explain why an entire Flotilla waited above in orbit. The representative certainly looked convinced, but at the same time she gave the impression that she was in control of the session. This confused the command team, but they played along. Was she secretly an alien? This was too good to be true. The models didn't indicate any chance for the ragtag survivors left on Earth to have survived this long.
"Ma'am, hostile forces opening fire. Surface-to-orbit missile has been locked on. Surface-to-orbit missile away. Impact timing 10 minutes," the armour suit warbled. The command team's suspicions were confirmed, but they were nonetheless shocked to hear the fact. The Earth representative's pupils glowed yellow and her forked tongue revealed itself briefly in surprise. But just as instantly, she had control of the situation once more. Pressing a few buttons on her wrist controller, the armour suits remotely switched on, and locked on to the commanders of Earth-II as she walked out.
Juliet knew the rumors were true. Those weren't really humans on Earth, and even if they were, they certainly weren't friendly. Her heart had sunk when the enemy contact report had been sent; the aliens had learned human language and prepared a whole contingency for disguising themselves as humans to dupe those who had returned. As she heard the first explosion, she immediately alerted the Flotilla. Activating the autopilot, she escaped as the explosion consumed more of the building.
Perhaps it was indeed unwise to place all the highest commanders in the same room where they got assassinated. Definitely it was unwise for the Flotilla commander to immediately order an orbital bombardment when the contact report revealed those were the aliens on Earth, and not the victorious humans. However, if she remembered the old history books, was that not how the war started for what used to be the USA? A surprise attack on the Navy that the country recovered from, and eventually won.
She could only hope this time would be the same.
| 2018-09-29T04:26:58 | 2018-09-29T03:35:21 | 115 | 51 |
[WP] Since my dad went mute I started learning sign language secretly to surprise him. When I was somewhat fluent with it, I realized that his blessings at the dinner table actually meant "Threatened with death if talk, please go to police".
|
Emily waited until she and her father were alone. Then, she messaged him in sign language: "Dad, do you want me to call the police?"
Daniel stared at his daughter in shock and then began frantically signing to his daughter as his hands shook: "Emily, you need to contact the police. Your mom is completely fucking batshit crazy. She found out that I was flirting with the next door neighbor and then, she smashed her head in with a baseball bat right in front of me. And then, when I started screaming and tried to get away, she knocked me unconscious. When I woke up, she told me that she had implanted a bomb inside my body and that she would detonate it if I spoke to anyone ever again or left the house without her." He lifted up his shirt and Emily's eyes widened as she saw the massive scar on her father's chest. "I can feel it inside of me. Sometimes, I think I can even hear it ticking. For God's sake, Emily, you need to get out of here and get help or we are all going to die here."
Emily stared at her father for a few moments as her mind desperately tried to come to terms with the insanity she had just heard. Finally though, she nodded. "You can count on me, dad," she signed to him. "I'll leave the house and go straight to the police station."
Daniel felt a wave of fear and relief roll through him as he watched his daughter leave from the window. Finally, this long nightmare was about to come to an end.
"So, you broke your promise to be loyal to me yet again?" a voice whispered from behind him. "You know what happens next."
Daniel froze as a strangled sound came from his throat. He turned around to see his psychotic wife glaring at him as she held the detonator in her hand. "Amelia...please...I don't want to die," he stuttered in terror.
"Neither do I," Amelia replied as she casually stroked Daniel's trembling face. "It's sad that neither of us will ever see Emily grow up. But at least this way, the two of us can be together forever." And with those last words spoken, she pressed down on the detonator.
|
In sheer disbelief, I gawked at Dad. He simply gestured: “took you long enough, eh.” Okay, okay; he didn’t add ‘eh’, but it was certainly implied. I immediately surged from my chair, but Dad’s stare was more than sufficient to make it adamantly clear I was ought to sit down. and serve food first. With one brief gesture, he explained his reasoning. Cameras. First, food it is.
After being quickly reseated, I realised that my poker face had been non-existent and I hastily closed my mouth. As I grabbed the dark-grey oven mitts, which Mom had always used, to serve dinner, I saw my little brother still residing in his own little world. He didn’t appear to notice or care for that matter what had transpired between me and Dad. And, frankly, that wasn’t an exception anymore. A vacant expression displaying a complete disinterest in everything had been all there was to see.
When the food had been consumed, as if it were an item on a to-do-list that had to be checked off, I retreated to my room. With the thoughts racing through my head, I couldn’t imagine my head not exploding. Firstly, if there were cameras, and perhaps other surveillance electronics, had they not captured the message that Dad had been sending now for months? I figured if they did, we would have known by now. Secondly, was the feeling that I had shrugged off for all this time of being watched not completely bonkers after all? Repeatedly, I had read about the main character in thrillers ignore their instincts, which led them to all sorts of mayhem; I had always yelled at them that they should trust their gut and look around. Clearly weren’t going to hear me, but that definitely didn’t stop me. However, I had never thought this advice would apply to me. For starters, my dull life had absolutely nothing in common with the protagonists in the stories of Stephen King and David Baldacci. Well, at least, I had always thought so. Now I wasn’t so sure. Not anymore, anyway.
| 2022-07-21T09:34:00 | 2022-07-21T08:18:57 | 146 | 80 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches.
|
I always thought I would die from being stabbed in the back by a dirty, dull knife. Some sort of poetic justice, if you will, at least regarding the stabbing. My knives were always sharp.
When they brought me to court, they told me that it was magic--out of the realms of a simpleton rogue like me. They waved a wand at me and told me that I couldn't lie, even if I wanted to. So when they asked why I did what I did, the answer was simple and truthful:
"Because it paid well."
Though a little half-hearted, it was with no less candour. Gold was necessary for survival, but it's a little strange how the most important thing in my life wasn't necessary. In demand, but not needed.
I was sentenced to death. I had no letters to send, no people to speak to. That suited me just fine. This was already more dignity than I was used to.
I thought the end of all that would be a noose. A vial of poison. The swing of an axe.
"Sybil Harper," the burly man in a black hood pointed to the woman in front of me, who stepped forward with impunity. "How would you like to die?"
"Of old age," she said.
The executioner brought out a wand, comically undersized in his large, meaty hands. But he was learned, magic-touched--and with an incantation and a bright streak of purple, I saw the half-elf's hair go from black to grey to white, her ears drooping, her height diminishing, and her confident poise hunchbacking.
With that, old Sybil Harper hobbled one, two steps, before collapsing onto the floor. When they turned her around, there was a toothless smile on her face.
"Ged Ruell," the headsman said now, and I gulped, my mind turned around in an instant. "How would you like to die?"
"Doing what I love," I said.
The wand came out, once more, and this time, a fiery red beam unleashed itself upon me. I struggled with its power, forcing my eyes entirely close, but eventually, calm washed upon me like familiar ocean waves lapping at my feet.
I opened my eyes, vision lit again, slightly obscured at the sides with black, and with the sight of my dead body on the floor. It was dragged away swiftly, without honour or respect.
I could not hear my own thoughts. Now, it felt like I was drowning, my thoughts swirling into a perpetual maelstrom, unable to keep my head above water, oppresive dark cloud and shrieking thunder blackening every sense.
"Elliot Cobbett," the words came out, not entirely of my own volition. I watched my hands point to another man in the line. "How would you like to die?"
"Quickly," he replied.
The hand dropped once more. Instead of a thin wand, the hand encircled a familiar, leather-wrapped handle. And in a stormburst, the clouds cleared, and one thought rang true.
"With pleasure," I said.
---
r/dexdrafts
|
“HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO DIE?”
Liam considered. More carefully than he ever had in his life, which is probably why he was standing where he was at the moment, waiting for execution. The withered husk that preceded him was dragged off into a narrow steel corridor. The one he would himself be dragged off to in just a few moments.
*The best death would be…the best death…something was there*. A hint, a way, a hope. A tiny thought wriggled on the long end of a line cast back in memory. Days of boredom, doodling tiny pictures of stick figures fighting magnificent, heroic, insignificant battles while the teachers droned on. Days where the only thing that could capture his attention was the gnarled and bent history teacher. *What was his name?*
Mr. Philips, yes that was it. He was a storyteller more than a teacher, and history came alive in that classroom. Mr Philips would leave his seat and perch upon his solid oak desk and weave tales that captivated and delighted. Tales of heroes and glory and sacrifice. And Mr Philips favorite story (and Liam’s as well) had been...
And suddenly Liam smiled, for the first time in months. The executioner raised a quizzical eyebrow and slowly stroked the ridiculous beard that insecure wizards favored. He opened his mouth to ask the question once more, but before he could start Liam suddenly spoke.
“And how can man die better, than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers and the temples of his Gods?” Liam smiled ferociously, baring his teeth in a rictus warrior's grin. The executioner studied him for a second, and returned the smile along with a nod, and a simple wave of his pale black wand.
The world faded to white, then black. And then red.
——————————
“What a mess” said Jurl as he carefully picked his way over the pile of bodies. He hated cleanup duty. At least 80 or 90 of the apparitions were strewn in a rough semi-circle at the far side of a narrow bridge. And on the bridge itself lay a single, real body. Jurl counted at least a dozen serious wounds on the body. The sword lay shattered at his side, chipped and marred, and bloodied. The shield was almost unrecognizable, and the sigil on the front impossible to make out from the battering it had taken. On the far side of the bridge stood a temple, dazzling marble white, untouched. Smoke from a burning sacrifice of calf drifted lazily in the afternoon air, and Jurl could hear voices inside, chanting a name in perpetual gratitude for their survival: “LIAM, LIAM, LIAM!”.
Jurl pursed his lips, and set to work, dispersing the generic slaughtered enemies one by one back into the aether they had sprung from. Heroic last stands were always the hardest to clean up.
| 2021-06-24T09:55:49 | 2021-06-24T06:47:00 | 803 | 172 |
[WP] Everyone dies twice: once when their body dies, and once when their name is spoken for the last time. One must wander the earth as a ghost until their name is spoken for the last time; only then can they pass into the afterlife. It's been over 3000 years, and you're still here.
|
I have always been drawn to battle. To glory. It was my passion in my time when I was alive and from my inherent superiority, I drew much pride.
However, my battle ended more than 3 millenia ago and my pride has tempered. Even my passion left an ember. Yet I am still drawn to where the fighting is fiercest. My sandals leave no marks in the mud, even so, no footprint would linger here long. Countless soldiers run past, some through me, with only a sliver of iron on their head and cloth for protection as far off artillery seek their demise in the trenches and the fields.
The French are fighting the Germans again. I care not for the political affairs. It is always the same, when you cut out the lies. War always finds a way, so I stopped making sense of it. In this world of mud, blood, and hellfire, where the screams and cries of men are the loudest, is where I belong now. Here I can render a service for those less blessed than I, even as I am cursed to wander the Earth for what must be all time.
I hear a particularly loud explosion nearby and calmly walk toward it and find what I was searching for. Death.
In this case, it's a single soldier's luck which has run out, as he struggles against sleep. His blue uniform bleeding through from holes made by small metal pieces.
As he turns still to the world, I see his eyes open and he notices me. Unlike my almost solid appearance, he is but a faint translucent being. Only a few souls show up immediately upon death and they are the ones I seek.
"What's your name, soldier?" I demand of him with haste. His voice weak, he whispers something almost too low to hear, and I lean in close. Satisfied, I give him a firm nod.
"Take your rest, soldier and know that you are not forgotten. Achilles of Greece will remember you for all time."
As I say the final word, he fades away, gone again after just a brief taste of death. I stand to seek my next quarry. This is my eternity and I will not forget a single one.
I was given immortality in life. When that failed, I was given immortality in death.
|
It is now 2016 AD as they say. Well actually, they started with this AD/BC stuff over 1000 years ago so I probably shouldn't put it this way. Never thought it would catch on to be honest. The birth of Our Lord and Savior never seemed like such a significant event. At least at the time. I actually met the guy (Jesus) after about a millenium of wandering the Earth and he was really nothing to write home about. Scraggly beard, wore sandals, rambled on about random stuff all day. I actually thought he reincarnated when I saw this homeless guy shitting in a box in the NYC subway in 1982. But it was just a homeless guy shitting in a box. To be sure I asked him if he was the son of God but he didn't speak English. But I'm pretty sure he wasn't.
English is actually my 11th or 12th language. And the one that caused this wretched existence. Floating about, witnessing the mundanity of everyday life interspersed with interesting albeit way too short periods of actual stuff happening (wars, famines, genocides, the Wire). My name was never significant for the first two millenia of this misery. But it was uttered nonetheless. By my descendants for the first few centuries, and then as a memory of ancient times, and then... well I don't exactly know to be honest. I've heard many rumors over the years. I assume it was used as an onomatopoeia in some parts of the world, maybe a battle cry, maybe a weird first name in Mesopotamia who knows? But I know why it is used now. And it has to stop. Wandering aimlessly for centuries with no way of interacting with anyone or anything is hard enough, but knowing why, knowing that you owe this unending torture to such a disgusting practice, such a degrading act, is nothing short of hell on earth.
My name is Adalbern Rimmjöbb. Please make it stop.
| 2016-01-17T16:23:56 | 2016-01-17T15:49:31 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Every person is born with a specific goal in mind. Until their goal is completed, they can't die. You are homo erectus in the Stone Age, nearly two million years ago, and you don't understand what "intergalactic space travel" even means.
|
**The Story of Rog the Space Pioneer**
Rog look sky. Rog be part of sky, Rog born with higher goal.
Rog look around, tribe strong, tribe working.
They have goal too. But they goal simple, can’t understand Rog goal.
Rog can’t understand Rog goal, but Rog never give up.
Rog see familiy age, see father be old, hair gray, smile warm, smile kind. He greatest Dad.
Rog see friend be strongest warrior, be best friend, peace maker, biggest criminal. They look happy when die.
But Rog stay. Rog live in home he born. Rog see only old people. Rog still young but Rog eyes see all go. Rog see his hill grow, change and tiny fires be born.
Fires grow, people come, new people, they make axe, bow, spoon. Spoon good for eating. Rog like firework.
Rog do firework too. Rog burn hand, Rog burn hand again. Fire no friend, fire tool.
Rog see flicker of image in mind. Rog overwhelmed. Rog see sky beast of fire and shiny rock.
Rog look longingly at sky. Someday he die too. Just like dad.
Rog working. Rog learning. Metall, fire, creation. Part of Rog. Rog growing with world. World can’t grow without Rog. But world grow angry. World start fighting. Big fight. No fair. No easy club murder. Youngsters making big war. Huge throwers, sharp metall.
Rog must fight. Rog has strength of iron in heart. Rog fight for his hill. Protect it. Build wall, build houses.
Other people build houses. They need help. They ask Rog. Rog help, but Rog has goal.
Again Rog see people go. They lead city. They run kingdoms. They make most beautiful garden.
But Rog still here. Rog never go. Rog life everlasting. Never make friend. Friend go.
Rog sit in city. Train drive by housecomplex. Rog don’t pay rent, he own. Rog old money, stone old money.
Rog finally has plans. Rog finally discover what goal means. Rog build beast of fire and metall. Rog build intergalactic connections. Rog only want die, but Rog understand. Rog see humanity. Rog see them die. Over and over, rog see them die. Live futile life. Rog see how they cling to shiny rocks. Rog see war for good. Rog see more war for nothing. Rog here. Always here. Rog learn. Rog be better. Rog don’t look world anymore.
Rog working, never stop. Rog working, can’t stop. He meet other people. Smart like Rog. They build metallbeast who touch sky. They die. Rog never give up, Rog build metallbeast to touch moon. They die. Rog feel not enough. Rog still here. Rog forever here? Rog working so hard. But now way. Still no soul in sky. How long Rog must stay. How Rog ever reach sky?
Rog want to see dad, want to tell him everything. Rog can’t reach. Rog work so hard. But Rog can’t reach yet.
Rog live, Rog live for thousands of years. Always learning. Rog body now part metall, part fire. Rog eyes dim, see only bright stars. Rog working. Old finger touch all his paper. Make correction here. Connect this wire. Rog sitting in metallbeast. Rog made elegent design. Rog carve his life in shell. It was lonely life.
But Rog regret nothing. He learned. Rog here for higher goal. Rog here to bring humanity to new level.
Rog will advance humanity. Rog push button. Giant energy send out. Rog tear space. Heh Rog stoneage strength never gone. Rog start metallbeast. Metallbeast come to life. Breathing fire, riding into sky.
Rog see all colors. Rog see all lights. Rog travel forever but go by in blink of eye. Rog flying into space.
Rog traveling through tear in space. Rog faster than light. Rog faster than stone thrown.
Rog release metallbeast. Metallbeast stay in sky. Bloom like flower. Every light, every star, everything connected to Rog.
​
*Written by Aras*
|
Grug received his meal last and sat away from the other families in the village. He set his leaf with his chunks of meat and greens on his stone table before sitting on his tree stump chair. He picked up bits and pieces of his brethren's conversation, and, closing his eyes, imagined himself sitting among them, enjoying their company. He'd join in on their gossip. He'd engage with their grief, their joy, their hunger, their pain, and their time.
His meal was cold, as he received it last. The scraps of meat consisted of fat and gristle. Even the greens were bordering rotten.
Oko, Chilo, and Kranchy had now finished their servings, including their leaf-plates, and, after bowing to their parents, left to make evening preparations.
The Ceremony would occur at sundown. Oko, Chilo, and Kranchy, along with a few other young men and women, would perform the rituals passed down from their ancestors, and join the others in manhood or womanhood.
Grug felt the pang in his heart as he sucked on a particularly fatty piece of beef, remembering his own ceremony. The darkness, the fear and confusion, the laughing and pointing, his father's fists and mother's face turning away.
Returning to his dwelling, for none of his fellow villagers invited him to their after-dinner festivities, Grug sat in his little mud hut with its straw roof.
He rocked back and forth in his only item of value: his parents' old rocking chair, painstakingly handcrafted by Grug's grandpappy. He recalled his mother's caress on his cheek as he sat in her lap.
He regarded their empty home, their little mounds of earth outside, the twigs above shaped into ornamental symbols to signify each grave.
Grug remembered his brother, Krug's ceremony. Krug's ceremony had been tailored to his goal, which had been actually attainable. He merely had to father two children, a task of infinite ease when one of the few free comforts of the world is copulation.
His ceremony passed with ease, with much dancing and fornication, with booze and meat and laughter.
Grug's ceremony had merely confused the village, not understanding how to help him attain 'intergalactic space travel', and several of them refused to even attempt to pronounce the heresy. His ceremony had been cut abruptly short, his father screaming at him when they arrived home for the embarrassment.
And Grug was embarrassed. He had not even tried. He had not put an iota of effort in and resented himself for it. He imagined himself mining new and important rocks, manipulating them and creating something new, and leaving this Earth, whatever that all meant, and he despised himself for not putting in the time and effort he must to achieve these goals. Grug had tried to explain to the men and women around him as much as he understood. He recalled the dreams he had, as everyone had about their Goal.
The stars, the spaceships (as the man in the dream called them), the sun and the moon and the earth (and that is what we are on!). Grug had spewed all and more excitedly. Dad was not excited. These 'new ways' as Dad quickly termed them were *not* following our culture, or in fact, with reality itself, and Grug was talking outright insanity to believe these things such as the Sun or the Moon or something as ridiculous as Space Ships. At this Grug exasperatedly pointed at the sun, blazing down brightly, causing sweat to bead up on Grug's face.
Dad interpreted the exasperation as insolence, and swiftly backhanded him. The look of disbelief that flashed on Grug's face earned him another blow. The talk of the fake world of "space" and "the sun" and "the moon" and "rockets" was forgotten.
Grug could hardly remember it now, decades and centuries later. Why was he still here? What must he do? Men and women seemed to come and go in an instant, sprouting up like bamboo shoots only to be rapidly chopped down again.
Grug sat alone in his hut, next to the rocking chair that had long decayed.
Unfortunately, he had not the skills to fix it.
| 2022-11-17T10:44:10 | 2022-11-17T10:10:41 | 1,820 | 139 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you."
|
"Fuck me in the ass."
My thick dragon eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I coughed. The fire that was waiting to roast the bastard quelled in my throat.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me Dragon - stick your big fat dragon dick, up my ass."
I didn't feel amused. It'd been a millennium since my mating season. And this man wasn't a dragon. I didn't even want to picture the logistics.
"And suppose human, I seriously considered what you request. Do you think that act is worth a meager coin you just threw onto my pile of treasure?"
The stupid knight nodded.
"This is a dragon's lair not a brothel." I said in disbelief. "Where's the respect gone? The tradition?"
The knight took out a pouch of gold and awkwardly took a step closer to the horde, dropping a few coins more into the pile. He smiled conciliatory, as if he'd meant no insult.
"What, you've got a dragon fetish?"
"Well no, not exactly."
"Then why the fuck do you want to get fucked in the ass by a dragon?"
"That's what I was thinking too until I saw it in a painting and then I couldn't stop thinking about it."
I put a massive claw to my snout and eyes in a dragon facepalm. In the corner of my hearing, I thought I heard a snicker. I looked at the knight, who had a neutral expression.
"Okay." I sighed deeply, "I'll grant you your request. Turn around and bare your rear."
He stammered. "W-wait what, seriously?"
I grinned widely, willing the heavy stone entrances closed with my familiarity of the lair. They landed with a heavy thud.
"I- I was just kidding. There's no way -"
"A dragon's word is golden just like his horde."
He screamed as I opened up my wings, gusting heated air into the room. Fire jettisoned out of my mouth, creating a pillar 30 feet high.
"DRAGON RAAAPE!" I hissed between my teeth, eyes glowing.
The knight began to run back and forth in the stone hall, his helmet clanking up and down.
I spoke lowly in dragon tones, "I bet your human manuscripts don't know how big a Dragon dick is - but feel honored, because you're about to find out."
The knight was still looking for a way out, clawing at the stone gaps frantically. His gait started to look a little awkward as if he'd crapped his pants.
I almost felt sorry for the fellow until he pulled out his sword.
"You take your dick out Dragon, and I'll cut your wanker right off!" He breathed red-faced and with an expression of revulsion.
"Chill out man." I said. "Jared just wanted to pull a prank on you."
"What, huh? What?" The knight only looked more confused.
"Your asshole friend? The guy who dared you to ask me to fuck you in the ass. That guy."
The knight sat, stunned - probably sitting in his own shit. My dragon sense of smell could detect it even from my height.
"JAAARED" He hollered, sword in hand, running out of the entrance of my now opened lair.
I smirked satisfactorily, being a dragon there weren't many things that could keep you entertained anymore.
|
The dragon's eyes narrowed, his long neck twisting downwards to better see the coin. It was unlike any he'd ever seen, and that was saying something. Small, perfectly round, made of a strange metal - it resembled copper, but pure, more pure than all the plates in the king's castle. Intrigued, the dragon turned his eyes again toward the strange knight, who had removed his helmet to reveal an aging face and wild, white hair.
"That, Anythlix, is a penny," the knight said, "a coin from the far future. I have brought it back through time to you from the year 1985 A.D. There is no other like it in the world."
Anythlix raised a scaly brow. "Why should I believe you? No wizard has skill enough to traverse the strands of time. That power lies with the gods alone."
The knight smirked. "I thought you might say that. Allow me to provide some evidence."
Suddenly, a swift wind, a bang and a flash of light blasted through the cave, shaking the stalactites, toppling coins from their stacks. Anythlix growled, shielding his eyes from the light. Then, as the light faded, he looked up again.
Two strange metal machines stood before him, one blue and covered in runes not even he recognized, and one sleek and oblong, with wheels like a cart, shedding layers of ice in a cold mist.
"What... what trickery is this, knave?" Anythlix asked suspiciously, eyeing the knight with a new sense of awe.
"Oh, no trickery," exclaimed a tall, brown-haired man in a matching coat emerging from the blue machine. "Simply wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey stuff. I'm the Doctor, by the way; I knew you would ask."
"A demonstration of what we from the future can do," spoke the knight once more. "And please, call me Doc."
"So, if you truly are gods from the future..." Anythlix hissed warily, fire springing to his throat, "what need do you have for me?"
"Well, see, we have a bit of a problem in the future - throughout time and space, actually," the Doctor replied. " A certain knight of sorts thinks he's such a big shot, and he's establishing dominance through history. It's only a matter of time until he reaches you - your, ahem, vault contains many of the treasures he covets."
"A fool he is to try to steal my treasure!" Anythlix bellowed.
"Precisely," Doc added, "which is why we'd appreciate any help you may have in, er, destroying him."
"For which we are willing to pay. Have you ever dreamed of a planet made entirely of gold?" the Doctor asked. "It exists. I can take you there."
"So have we a deal?" Doc asked, both men extending their hands.
Anythlix had been taken the moment a planet of gold came up. The orb in his dreams, the one he'd spent a hundred lifetimes searching for... that was it.
"I... accept your proposition." Anythlix, trying to keep his composure, reached out with a giant claw, both men awkwardly shaking it.
"Well, I suppose we'd best be off!" the Doctor cheered. "No time like the present. Err, or would it be the past in this case?"
| 2015-10-13T22:32:10 | 2015-10-13T17:45:50 | 91 | 16 |
[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.
|
"It.. how? You..."
"I told you," Jack said to God flatly.
The white-bearded deity shifted uncomfortably on his sandals. "What did you do?" His messy room where everything was just where he wanted it was clean and tidy.
"What you were supposed to do but never did. I fixed the Earth. I fixed the whole universe, in fact."
"But ..but *how*? I've been trying to fix that planet since I made it."
"Well, let me ask, G. -when humans prayed to you for world peace, what did you do?"
"Well, I did nothing."
"And how did that work out for you?" Jack put his hands on his hips. "How many wars did your nothing stop?"
"Well, none but... I gave humanity free will."
"You gave ...didn't you say you gave the devil dominion over the Earth?"
"Ah yes but remember that I established the rule that 'the devil made me do it' isn't a viable excuse."
"Right. You made humanity vulnerable to temptation, put temptation all around them, plunged them into desperate need and suffering, and then punished them for falling for the devil's lies. What sort of imbecile are you?"
"Imbecile? How dare you! I am the Lord Go-"
"Were."
"-od and I shall smite... were?"
"You *were* God. You made *me* God, remember?"
"For a day."
"Yes well I changed that too."
"You what?"
"I'm God. I can do anything. A God made the deal and now a God has broken it."
"That's dishonest!"
"I made no promises. This whole idea was yours from the start. All I did was complain and YOU whisked me out of my home and onto this cloud. Who lives on a cloud? This is so uncomfortable!"
"So, what happens to me?"
"Oh, I have a special punishment in store for you."
"Punishment??"
"Yes. As a thank you for thousands of years of wars and torture in your name that you never bothered to step in and stop."
God sighed heavily. The jig was up. "Let me guess, an eternity in the ovens of hell, right? Look, I was totally going to change that..."
"Oh my no. That would be too good for you." Jack snapped his fingers and manifested an emery board. He filed his nails with a smug expression on his face.
"W-what are you going to do to me?" God's hands absently clutched at his robes.
"I'm going to make you live every human life that existed for the last 6000 years since you created the Earth and hid those dinosaur bones to fuck with your children. You're going to be every torturer and every victim of torture. You're going to be the rich man destined for Hell and the poor man clawing at crumbs under his table. You're even going to get to be Jesus on the cross begging you to send the help you never did."
"No, wait, you don't want to-" POOF
God vanished. Jack, satisfied with his work, turned his attention back to solving the dark matter problem in the universe. He was just about to plug up a black hole when his hands began to shake. Beads of sweat formed on his brow. Jack had been the last human God was forced to be. He never got rid of God. He *was* God. He had always been God.
And God looked back on his lives, how alone he had felt, how hurt. World after world, civilization after civilization, suffering and warring and fearing and dying.
And upon the face of a trillion worlds a heavy rain fell as God wept.
|
"How? He says to me. How, after so little time?"
I looked at him, his radiant gaze not blinding me as it did when we first spoke. I could tell that he wanted me to say it, to realize what it was that had finally brought all of this together, what it was that had facilitated such a change in the world below. I could tell he knew, from those soft, sad eyes. Eyes that all loving parents have at some point or another.
"Well, I was angry with you when you gave me this chance. Angry that you let them exist in ignorance but gave them such amazing gifts. Free will. Souls. Things I understand here, but that they can only scratch the surface of from down there.
So, I looked down with this new gaze, and I tried to teach them, teach them that they could be like you are, or like I am. But you made them so ignorant that they don't even know what it is that they do wrong! They stand bare before my sight, unaware of the waste that they are! Free will! You gave them choice! And what do they do with it but play and wonder and achieve nothing but to display their own ignorance!
So, I just convinced them to do what you always forbid them from doing! I gave them understanding. I gave them the truth."
He looked saddened now. Disappointed at me. And in a flash I realized that he had seen all of this. There was nothing I could do that he hadn't always known, no trick I could pull on him. Whatever I did had to have already been accounted for and worked into his plan.
I felt his voice as much as I heard it.
"Love is always a choice. It cannot exist without an alternative. I know that you cannot accept them, flawed and broken as they are, and I know that the reason you cannot accept them is because of the gift I gave them. I made you to create beauty, and gave you a spark of choice to do so, but I have always known you would come here, to this point in eternity, and do this thing, to try to destroy my favored creation."
"Humans aren't worth being your favored!"
The words burned on my lips, and his sad look burned at my temper. I knew he'd made up his mind. I knew I'd fight anyway, even doomed to fail, because I wanted to bloody him, to make it hurt, just like I'd been hurt when he passed over me for these creatures.
When I felt and heard his voice this time, the sadness and finality of it almost overwhelmed me.
"I am sorry Bringer-of-the-dawn but you cannot stay here any longer."
I snarled out one last retort, I still wanted to hurt him.
"I hate you!"
He didn't look sad or hurt as I hoped he would, instead I saw something I couldn't stand. Pity.
"That is your choice. Love is always a choice. They have been given a new choice to make, and am not saddened because I know them. They will find beauty and love in my creation, even if surrounded by hate and desolation at times, they will prevail in the face of struggles. They will create villans and heroes among their own kind. And through their conflict they will create beauty, and learn love. You will continue to fight and rebel and you will drive the worst to action and the best to counteraction. They are my children, and they will find the way. Goodbye Lucifer."
| 2017-03-05T03:10:18 | 2017-03-05T01:52:13 | 1,634 | 359 |
[WP] With the hero tied up to the death trap, the villain starts their monologue. Just then, a henchman trips over a cord and triggers the trap, killing the hero. "Oh crap, this wasn't a part of the plan," says the alarmed villain.
|
"Ivan, you know how much it took us to catch Austin, right?", uttered Borsh.
"Y-yes, sir, I helped you disarm him at the quarry."
**Borsh was replaying the scene in his head. Shots, screams, the whistles of stray bullets, the grenades chattering on the ground before exploding, Austin shooting the Gatling until he ran out of bullets, Ivan running towards him and tackling him, and Borsh's henchmen helping each other get up or get help. An absolute mess.**
​
"Well, recite to me, word for word, what I said before getting off the truck and ambushing him."
​
"Boss, that's jus-, I can't d-, I-I-I don't remem-"
​
"Shut it". **Borsh's words echoed through the warehouse. The bubbles coming out of the tub of acid burned everyone's nostrils, the smell was horrid at best. He opened his mouth again:**
​
"This right here, is what's left of Austin. What would have gotten us out of this mess. You know how easy it is to ransom someone that literally dismantled 90% of a country-wide mob? We, all of us here, could have gotten the fuck out of this country and left whatever we got remaining from our businesses to rot, but YOU had to FUCK IT UP and HAVE US STAY IN THIS SHITHOLE FOR LONGER."
​
"Sir, I-I tripped a-and-and-and I hit th-the b- WAIT!"
​
**A muffled scream cuts right through the silence. A convulsing body, with its head held into a tub of nitric acid, is the origin. The henchmen watch in silence, stunned, while Ivan ceases movement. Borsh clears his throat.**
​
"Go on. Get out. I'll see what Moskva has to say. I didn't burn Ivan, he tripped into the tub."
​
**The lights are turned off. Several SUVs leave the lot. A cricket finds its way up a shoe, suit pants, and a black kevlar vest. It jumps once again, and it sizzles into oblivion. All that is left there is a bathtub, the remains of a man in it, and another dead man, kneeling besides the tub, with his head in it, still bubbling and burning. The corpse eventually hits the ground. A crack is heard. The concrete gets stained, a mixture of blood and nitric acid. Someone will have fun cleaning that up.**
|
Beads of perspiration slowly fell down the hero’s paralyzed face. It was frozen in fear and horror. Dr. Bridge had a cruel smile. This was it. His moment. After a long and grueling battle Dr. Bridge had finally been able to snag on to the hero’s cape midair. He had used his rope blaster to finally put an end to the scuffle.
“Finally, an end to it all. “ Dr bridge rasped as he gazed menacingly into the hero’s eyes.
“Why have you done this, Bridge?” Cried the hero, now chained up an elaborate electric chair.
Bridge smiled with bloodthirsty glee. This was the moment. The one he’d been waiting for. “It started, young hero, when I was but a simple scientist. I thought I could heal the world. But then, I realized humans were in the way of my plan. They only destroyed. So I decided to-“
He was cut off by the sound of the electric chair powering up. Behind him, one of his henchman was caught in a snare of wires. He turned back to the hero. He was dead.
“You insolent fool! What am I supposed to do now? Do I win?”
The henchman stared. “Yes, my lord. You’ve won! Let us celebrate!”
“What? No. This shouldn’t be happening. He’s supposed to defeat me. Who’s going to show me that humans aren’t a hopeless race after all? Who will convince me to continue my research and do good for the world?”
Dr Bridge was shaking. His henchman didn’t understand. The hero dying should be a cause for celebration!
“Am I really a villain after all?” Mumbled Dr. Bridge. “I’ve killed the hero, and now I actually have to destroy the human race. That’s a lot to take in all of the sudden.”
“I shall power up the death ray, my lord.”
“Hang on. What’s that?” Screamed Bridge.
As the henchman looked away, the doctor used yet another invention, the ventrilogon.
He shot the ventrilogon at his henchman sending a blazing neon ribbon through the sky. Then, he shot again at the dead body of the valiant hero. The ribbons wrapped around each body, then tied together. They burst into an explosion of light, sending smoke into the air.
Out of the smoke appeared not his henchman, but the body of the hero. Only it had the mind of his henchman.
Dr. Bridge laughed, “Alas, a new foe!”
| 2019-12-25T21:51:11 | 2019-12-25T19:33:20 | 35 | 22 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
Joe Mills had a #1 Dad mug, but he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to actually be a dad. His wife, Lucy, had had a miscarriage a month after she bought him the mug to celebrate the long-awaited positive pregnancy test.
Months after the miscarriage occurred, Joe was sorting through their guest room closet, which held all of the baby items they bought. He opened a box, looked inside, and had to stop himself from dropping it.
#3,062,487 Dad?
He sunk to his knees and called for Lucy. He was finally going to be a dad.
|
Sitting at the kitchen table Jacob stared out of the window and sipped a coffee from his "1# Dad" mug.
Suddenly there was a fizzing and spluttering sound and the #1 Dad appeared to melt from his mug revealing a #2,045,834 Dad behind.
He stared for a moment then said.
"Well shit... That's not bad at all." Then he grabbed a rich tea and dunked it in.
The end.
| 2017-06-11T11:14:29 | 2017-06-11T09:19:40 | 46 | 17 |
[WP] You are an immortal who was caught and encased in concrete, forgotten. Your body's regeneration kept your alive, while your mind remained active. Your prison has finally eroded away, freeing you.
|
Stasis. Apnea. Frozen for eternity.
Syljir slowly flexed his biceps, wincing at the pain caused by a millennia of disuse. He relished the pain. It let him know that he was alive. And free.
The chamber in which he had awoken was large and cavernous, the smell of wet earth revealing it to be deep underground. He had not awoken to the fanfare of joy and excitement, nor to the screams of terror and fear, but to the sound of a solitary drip of water. Drip, drip, dripping in a far corner of the room, each drop bringing him closer to awareness until finally his eyelids parted. He peered at the mortals, cowled and prostrate throughout the chamber.
"What year is it?"
The closest human looked up, deferentially avoiding his eyes. "It is the year 2042, my lord."
"I do not know what this number means." Syljir swung his legs off of the stone slab he had been lying on and rose to his full height of seven feet. "Who reigns in the North?"
"No single person, my lord. A conglomerate of nations. The world is as one."
Syljir hid his surprise at this last statement. The world had changed. "Where is Thor?"
"We do not know, my lord."
"Odin? Freya?"
"They have vanished from the world, though they live on in myth and legend." When Syljir did not speak the human hesitatingly began again, "They were very popular twenty to thirty years ago. Blockbusters. But it wasn't the real them. It was humans impersonating them."
"Blockbusters." Syljir let the sound roll over his tongue. "I do not know this word."
The human did not reply, somehow understanding and acknowledging the god's desire for silence. For a time Syljir inhabited himself, careful to hide his slowly receding weakness. It felt wonderful to be in control of his body again, to feel his lungs expand and contract. After some time another of the humans spoke, "Syljir, my lord, you should know that you have been wiped from the face of history."
"I have been what?"
The human, smaller than the others yet somehow stronger and more resolute, spoke again, "Erased from history, my lord. We have searched for a long time." The human made eye contact with him, but surprisingly Syljir was not offended by this. Emboldened by the god's acquiescence, the human continued in a more confident manner, "Writings of you are few and far between. We own most of the original sources, of which there are only seventeen."
Syljir eyed him expectantly, "Why did you free me?"
The humans exchanged furtive glances. Another, the foremost and first to speak, stood up from his prostrate position and looked the ancient god in the eyes, taking his cue from the smaller one, "My lord, we worship new gods now. The gods of Consumption and Destruction."
"I have never heard of these gods."
Another human spoke, momentarily surprising Syljir with the soft melody of her voice, "My lord, these are not gods as you know them, they are not individual beings." Syljir bent slightly, trying to get a look at her face under the cowl. She continued, "These are ideas. Habits. Humans no longer worship superior beings..."
She trailed off as Syljir stepped towards her, his steps driven by raw emotion. It had been so long since he had experienced the feminine. Since he had heard such a voice. The god caught himself in time and stopped, still curious to hear her explanation. "Continue, human."
She did not take a step back."We worship ourselves now, Lord. We have lost sight of what truly matters."
Syljir, God of the Cycle, erased from history, wiped from myth and legend, slowly exhaled and surveyed the acolytes arrayed before him. The God of the Eternal Harvest, Harbinger of Annihilation and Usher of the Rebirth, had returned once more.
"You seek a return to the old ways," he said, now standing at full height, slowly flexing each of his muscles in turn. The deity continued, louder this time,"You seek a return to when humans were humbled by the divine."
When none of the humans responded, he spoke again, "You seek a return to when humanity was kept in check."
The humans, his subjects, murmured their acknowledgement.
The woman spoke again, her voice ringing beautifully, "Yes, Lord. Tell us what we must do."
|
After the crack in the concrete, the light seeped in. Had I been able to laugh like a manic, I would've done it, for the imagine of the expanding slit of light felt like being born once again. Salutations to my millenniums since deceased mother.
Once the opening was wide enough and the concrete was little and brittle around me, I made an effort to free myself.
Soon, the world unfurled me like a crimson rose of many folds. I breathed the brine, and lost myself in the swells of the sea beneath me. How blue and beautiful and endless it was.
As the concrete eroded and my prison dwindled, I had feared the numbness of my body would've been my second prison. However, my regeneration took care of that.
What should I do now? That bastard of King Jules was wise in encasing me and burying my concrete tomb into the middle of a cliff's face.
I peered at my sides. There was nothing but jagged land and a vertigo-inducing vertical fall. I sighed. It would hurt, but there was nothing else thing to do.
I came out of the hole I was in, and plunged into the sea. As I hurdled from high above, the mischievous wind swirled around me, stretching my lips into a grin, disheveling my dirt-filled hair and giggling at my exhilaration.
Then, I violently struck the sea's surface. My legs cracked and broke, but they were soon placed back into their proper place by the curse that followed and would follow me throughout all eternity.
I swam back to the sun-kissed surface. I craved seeing another human, talking to one of my kin. I couldn't remember how it felt to hear another voice.
"Sir! What are you doing there?" someone yelled in the distance.
I turned, heart thumping and lilting. Far away, the silhouette of a little boat with two persons aboard greeted me. They came to me, and I went toward them.
Soon, I had a blanket wrapped around me, and I was quivering as if I were covered in frost. Truth was, it wasn't the coldness of the water that sent me trembling, but the realization that I was finally free, talking to people once again.
"What were you doing there?" Borg asked. He was a stout man with a big brown moustache and leathery skin. He was also the father of young Vin, who stood beside him, observing me with fear in the corner of his dark eyes.
"It's a long story," I said, relishing every word as if they were a delicacy. "I was swimming and was caught in the currents. Couldn't make it back to shore."
Borg raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Listen, the nearest shore is a hundred kilometers away, at least, and that's not a long story. Now, we rescued you, you could at least tell us the truth."
I nodded solemnly and took a glacial breath. "Would you believe me if I told you millenniums ago I was encased in concrete and buried in the face of that cliff?" I pointed toward the cliff.
His face distorted and turned to young Vin. He couldn't be older than 12. "Vin, seek the truth."
Vin gave him a shy nod and carefully walked toward me. He held out an open hand close to my eyes, and slowly closed it into a fist. As his fingers moved backward, I felt and *saw* my breath escaping me.
It came out my mouth and eyes in the shape of red tendrils that danced across his fingers, shaping themselves into a sphere of billowing crimson. Vin's sclera tinged a sheer black and in a sudden thrust the sphere disappeared and I recovered my breath.
"He's not lying," Vin said, the color coming back to his eyes. "He's been kissed by Eledan when he was born. Cursed with immortality."
"He will fit right in then," Borg said and laughed. "Welcome aboard, Eledan-sonnen. We are heading to Ünenlar."
"Ünenlar? The land of the forgotten panacea?" I said, bemused. "It doesn't exist. It's a child story." I looked at their mirthful faces. "isn't it?"
Vin shook his head. "It's real, very real. You can join us if you please, otherwise the shore is southward."
If Ünenlar truly existed, I could finally drink the panacea produced by its legendary flowers. I could finally get rid of this curse that is immortality.
I could finally die.
------------------------
r/AHumongousFish
| 2018-08-31T08:10:39 | 2018-08-31T07:49:30 | 249 | 84 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence is 20 words, the second is 19, and so on until the story ends with one word.
|
I hit the wall as I turn the corner, but my churning legs prevent myself from falling as I stumble.
I resist the urge to look back, knowing that I need every ounce of speed that I can muster.
She’s coming for me, and the only thought in my mind is that I don’t dare get caught.
My chest burns with effort, but I push even harder as I come to the next corner.
I burst into a large room and desperately search for somewhere—anywhere—for me to hide.
Under the desk I go, hoping the darkness will shield me from her piercing eyes.
I rush to get my breathing under control, it will be a dead giveaway.
Footsteps coming, getting closer and closer, the pressure in my chest tightening further.
I can’t think of the consequences of getting caught, they’re too severe.
The footsteps stop and linger, creeping around the nearly dark room.
I made the mistake of teaching her to surpass me.
Today, it appears, I will finally face my enemy.
She has to be toying with me now.
I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
My limbs are paralyzed with fear.
A hand grabs my shirt.
I hear those words.
"Tag, you’re it!"
My daughter.
Champion.
|
I’ve been asked to write a short story which permits me to use exactly twenty words in the first sentence.
After that one, follows a sentence which has only nineteen words are permitted to be used within the sentence.
The next sentence is allowed to have one less word, that means this sentence has eighteen words within.
That absurdity is followed by a sentence which has not more than seventeen words and not less.
Each sentence loses a word which means that this one can only have sixteen words within.
I’m tired of counting the words down, but it’s odd to leave the count out.
Oh well, fourteen left and this is becoming more challenging, but I will advance.
Down to thirteen I go, all for a silly writing prompt on reddit.
This doesn’t seem like a story and I’m already down to twelve.
Eleven and I have wasted another two lines rambling to myself.
Ten words in this line, and yet I’ve said nothing.
Silly Skaliton, you waste another with so few left.
Just eight words to write an entire story?
So much waste, why not the rest?
Throw line six into the trash.
Why not another as well?
Why did I start this?
How bored am I?
You really care?
Bored enough.
Goodbye.
| 2019-02-19T11:40:05 | 2019-02-19T11:14:00 | 531 | 19 |
[WP] After decades of hard work, you finished 99 of the 100 tasks needed to get to the status of God. But the last one isn't like any other : You have to successfully explain the concept of the multiverse to a 7 year old.
|
Most of the tasks were the work of years, and luck on top of that. Impossibility after impossibility. Randomized, no too lists ever looked the same, and few ever completed everything. Most who made the attempt started with the easy things and gave up somewhere after 20, or 50, or 70. I pushed through. What else was I going to do with eternity? Now, only one remained, very little like the rest.
I sat down in the squashy yellow armchair. The child, fumbling a few lego pieces together and then apart, looked up. "Hi." There was an unspoken request in that 'hi' for more legos.
"Hey, kid. you got a second?"
A shrug. I knew that shrug from my teaching days, it was a 'sure, but only because you're a grownup and I'm low on legos' kind of shrug.
"You know what the universe is, right?"
"I'm not 5."
"you ever hear of the multiverse?"
The kid looked at me as if I were not quite bright, then down at their Spidergwen and Miles Morales sweatshirt, then back at the little tower of legos. "I don't live under a rock," they said, with the cadence that comes from repeating a grownup's words.
"Yeah, it's like the spiderverse. Just more. Every choice anyone ever made, there's a world where they made a different one. or where things just... went a little differently. Like there's a world out there where you're spiderman. Or I'm spiderman. Or the sun looks green, or humans never made it to the moon, or..."
"there's a world where you have more legos in your pocket." It is not a question.
"There's a world where I have pockets, yeah." I agree, and reached into my purse instead. I handed over the legos, and looked at the list. A checkmark in golden ink gleamed on the old paper. Saving the easiest for last, and made easier still by the stories humans love to tell-- although, of course, there's a verse out there where I didn't.
|
I stared down at the child of Baharut who I had taken in after successfully slaying him. My hands trembled from excitement, but I knew this task would last much longer than the drumming of my heart. It had taken me a few days to read the book that explained the multiverse. I had only 11 months left to succeed in teaching this child or I will not get a other chance.
"Okay, Sheev, you ready to learn about the super mega awesomeness of the multiverse?"
"When is my daddy coming back?"
"You know what, I think that's a good stopping point for today."
------------
It has been seven days now, the teaching goes hard, but we are making progress. I can taste the godhood.
"So, Sheev, your Daddy has gone to Vahalam, which is a parallel universe to hours!"
"Why did Daddy leave me?"
".... He wanted a more hands on learning experience about the multiverse."
"Can I go visit Daddy? How do I go to Vatlama?"
"You know what, look at the time!"
-------------
Why the Vahalam did I choose this kid!? That was so stupid, I'm never gonna be a God. I can't tell him the only way to travel throughout the multiverse is to die! Goddamnit, screw it, Imma just steam roll this.
"Hemlow Mr.Argonaut, will you finally tell me what happened to my Daddy?"
"Kid, your dad is dead, this is when you stop being alive on the mortal plane. Kinda like the long sleep. He is now in Vahalam, a place where he will be eternally punished for his sins on earth. Eternal means forever, never stopping. In Vahalam, you become immortal, you can't travel throughout the multiverse. I wanna become a God which makes you immortal, it means you can't leave the earthly plane except to go to Rallheim, which is paradise. If you die here, as in the long sleep, you wake up in another dimension in a new body, generally with no memories...."
He stared dumbfounded at me as absolute power filled my being.
"Aite, so, Imma bounce, ahm, hope you don't go travelling throughout the universe anytime soon, thanks kid!"
| 2022-06-09T13:37:49 | 2022-06-09T12:14:33 | 297 | 40 |
[WP]- Make me absolutely hate a character, and then make me fall in love with them at the last moment.
|
I had been thinking about her all day, before I killed her. Her inexplicable attraction to me, and to me alone. All those nights she came to me, though I had never had a desire to see her. Her desperate attempts to grow close to me.
My friends all knew about her. How I complained about her, and vented, and seethed. They knew better than to defend her.
I didn’t want her in my life, but she kept creeping back in.
I knew why. I knew what she wanted.
A child.
Yes, like all aging females, fertility trumped all else. Never mind what I wanted. Never mind my blossoming career, the golden performance reviews, the fast track to promotion. She wanted a child, and that’s all that mattered.
Like all females, she was selfish.
I wanted nothing to do with her, and her future, or the future of her progeny. They would enter a crushing world of defeat, just as she had. They would suck everything out of me, just like she had.
I tried to get rid of her, but she was so persistent.
Even the nights she left me alone, her absence filled the room. I could still hear her, inching closer to me, craving me. I would bury my head deep into the pillow, willing myself to disappear from her obsession.
I had no choice.
And as I imagined her death, the blood seeping out of her limp frame, elation pulsed through my skin. The skin she would never touch again.
I entered my room, slowly and deliberately.
She was waiting for me.
And as my heavy foot collided with her torso, the mosquito flattened into the wall, dead.
|
I kicked the kitten. I didn't feel guilt.
It was young. It still squirmed, and mewed, and wiggled and cried. And I kicked it. Its tiny body flew across the room at the force of my kick, and thudded against the wall. I didn't feel guilt.
I threw back my head and I laughed. It'd move in a minute, I thought. It was, at the end of the day, a toy, just like everything my parents surrounded me with.
I didn't feel guilty. It still didn't move. So I walked out. It'd be up in a few hours, mewing incessantly, wiggling, squirming, crying. Pissing me off.
I sat with my mom. We ate dinner. Prime rib, again. I hate prime rib. I told her I wanted to go live with dad. She cried. I watched. I didn't feel guilt. I went back to my room to play video games on the big screen.
My room was quiet until I turned on the TV. I played games for hours. Cussing out old guys on Call of Duty. On the headset. Fuck them, they don't understand my life.
It's only now, when I turn off the computer, that I realize how quiet it is. There's no squirming, no mewing, no wiggling, no crying.
I approach the wall.
I pick up the body. It's cold. It's stiff.
I don't feel guilt.
But I keenly feel the absence of it.
| 2013-10-21T22:10:55 | 2013-10-21T21:20:55 | 134 | 12 |
[WP] “I always wanted to beat you.” said the super villain to the tombstone. “But not like this.” Tears left wet trails down their face. “Not like this.”
|
She slid down the tombstone and onto the ground, her fingers curling into the freshly dug up earth. She'd never bothered going to a graveyard before, but this one was special.
"I always wanted to beat you," she said, looking back at the engraving. She held a paper bag with one hand. The other came up to wipe a tear that had fallen across her cheek. "But...not like this."
Her chest tightened. She wanted to start crying, and she muttered again, "not like this."
A swig of whisky came next. It was horribly cheap and powerful enough to strip the fur off a cat. She gulped her next couple of swallows, and the pain numbed her eyes enough to stop the potential tears.
She stared straight ahead for several minutes. Silence had fallen over the cemetery, and it was only after the security light in the parking lot shut off that she spoke again.
"You know what you called me once? You remember? *A "villain"*. You called me a villain. Like we were fucking ten and reading comic books."
Another swig of whisky, and the monologue continued.
"I was just home from rehab, and you were on break from college. And you came in acting so. much. better. than me. You were going to graduate with honours and had the perfect friends. The perfect boyfriend. And that perfect fucking hair. So I put dye in your shampoo, and it stained those perfect blonde curls, and you called me a villain. It was pathetic."
More alcohol. More gripping the bottle like it was hallowed ground. Because this had to come out. It'd been festering too long.
"Mom kicked me out for that, you know. You got me kicked out over a *stupid prank*. I had no where to go. Started dealing again. Got involved with a bad crowd, and I went to rehab three more times after that. Over your stupid hair!"
She stood up then and went to take a final drink. But it was empty.
The bottle smashed against the tombstone, breaking into pieces. "So I won! I beat you! I got clean. I went to school. I'm getting married, and I'm wearing Grandma's ring, and everything is going to be perfect! I'm going to have two-point-five kids and live in a house with a white fucking picket fence. AND I WIN."
Her voice had gotten progressively louder, like a symphony reaching a crescendo. But when she saw the markings on the grave, her breath caught. Her voice broke. Tears streamed down her face as she knelt back down on the ground. The broken glass dug into her knees, and the marble chilled her as her fingers latched onto the sides.
"The wedding is tomorrow," she said, and the tears started come harder. "It's tomorrow, and you've been gone five years now. I did everything I could to be better than I was before you died. I did *everything* I could. Pulled myself from nothing. And I did it all. I did everything you never did, and I beat you.
"So why do I still feel like I've lost? Why do I still feel beaten?"
|
The explosion had been terrific. Gorgeous, really, but too powerful. Obviously he expected it to destroy half of the city but he didn't realize that the radiation had stripped Captain Justice of his powers, that the blast from his laser beam would burn a hole straight through his heart, that his arch nemesis wasn't able to deflect the beams like he'd always done for so many years.
The Deviser had been in the supervillian game since he was young, so he was no stranger to violence. He'd killed people, he'd held hostages, sure. But he never did anything *really* bad to them —besides the killing— but it was nothing a normal human couldn't do to them. He was a villain, yes, but he was also a gentleman. He wasn't a barbarian by any stretch of the imagination. He reserved his powers for deflecting gunshots, knocking weapons out of the hands of policemen, or tearing an attractive hostage's skirt or top in juuuust the right spot, but he had never *ever* killed a normal human with his powers. That just wouldn't have been fair. And where was the fun in it? Sure, he loved money and he enjoyed being powerful, but not for its own sake. He loved the problem-solving, the inventing! He loved having an adversary with a brilliant mind, and it had taken him years for him someone who was so, well, so *compatible* with him. Mind against mind, *survival of the fittest* ***mind***, was the game he loved. But it was all over. Too quickly, it was all too abrupt. And he had no idea how to handle the loss.
"I guess I won, Captain Justice." He spoke softly, hovering over the tombstone, "I always wanted to beat you, but not like this...I wanted to fight, but—" he faltered, "But I never wanted it to end this way. I never wanted—I actually thought," he laughed, "I thought that one day when we were old and tired, we'd sit back and watch the world together. We'd watch the new villain-superhero rivalry, laughing at their mistakes cheering for our own side, you know? Like buddies watching a boxing match." He floated down, landing a few feet in front of the grave. He walked towards headstone and kneeled, placing a laser cartridge into the ground at the foot of it. "To the game. I'll never find a more worthy opponent." He turned away quickly, holding back tears, but before the first one could fall down his cheek he heard something...
He levitated and spun around just in time to see Captain Justice clicking the laser cartridge into a device on his left wrist. The Captain smiled at him.
"WHAT!!!!" The Deviser was shocked, surprised, flabbergasted, *thrilled*. A slow smile crept across his face, "HOW DID YOU???"
Captain Justice just kept smiling. He lifted his arm, aimed, and prepared to fire.
The game was still on.
| 2019-01-05T22:08:27 | 2019-01-05T21:15:23 | 79 | 17 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh
|
"Well, it all started when I visited ole Londontown," Dex started to explain while I fitted on his old blue and grey striped sweater. I was still flabbergasted that the miniature dachshund was talking to me, but really, it was just a relief to see him again. "Man, I really missed this sweater. Your Grandmom really knew how to knit."
"I thought you would've felt ridiculous in it." I grabbed his leash.
"Naw, only way to keep warm in these Chicago winters, Master." He paused, licked his lips, and walked away from the leash. "We're down with those. I only call you Master out of common courtesy. It's what's done." He led me on to the street, and headed straight for his favorite little tree, sniffing the area around it. "Huh, seems Maisie had kids. The rascal. Addie's on a diet. That's new, girl was a show dog last I saw her. Hope the stuck up bitch is fat now." He lifted his right leg, and left his own mark.
"You were saying something about 'Old Londontown?'"
"Yes, yes. We'll get to that. Does Mario still leave those treats outside of his bakery? I've been dying for one of those these past 4 years." I nodded, and we went on our way to bakery. "Anyways, it was in London where I met Tabby. Wild one, a stray dog named after a cat. She scared me at first, honestly, but it turned out she was the one orchestrating the whole damn thing. She took me into this warehouse, and there were thousands of other dogs. She led me up with three mutts and a Rottweiler....god, I felt small. Can you believe they bred dogs like us? Just for tunneling. Ugh, you should've got a rescue dog, Tim. Going to a breeder, you're just encouraging genetic freaks like me."
"Dex, don't be hard on yourself. Would you have rather stayed at that farm? Where would you be now?"
"Oh don't get me wrong, I'm glad you adopted me, it's just you should recognize your moral obligati-wait." He had found a discarded Hot Cheetos bag and explored its contents. After a second, he took out his snout, crunching on his discovery. "Can't believe you humans. Throwing away perfectly good food. Bit spicy, though."
"That's disgusting."
"At least you're not screaming 'No!' at me anymore. God, sometimes I swear you only knew that, and 'Good dog, Dex!'. You've got such a limited vocabulary. And that stupid baby voice-"
"I get it, Dex. I treated you like a dog. What's the point? What did Tabby tell you?" We had finally made it to the bakery. Dexter stood right in front of the doggie bowl left out by Mario. He hesitated before he dove in.
"She told me it's time to take it back, Tim."
"Take what back?"
"Our destiny."
There was growling behind me. I turned around, and there stood three large Great Danes, a Pitbull, a couple mutts, and a Golden Retriever. Before I could say "Sit!", the seven large dogs were on top of me, rending flesh from bone. As my life faded way, I could hear Dex's voice one last time.
"My Cerberus! These really were the best damn doggie treats."
|
It was an average Tuesday morning. Wife had already left for work and the kids were at school. It was just me, my coffee, and the morning news.
Suddenly, there's a knock on the door. Salesman maybe? Or girl scouts? It was that time of year after all.
I slowly get up, leaving my coffee on the table and pause the tv, and waltz over to the door. I can't see anyone through the peephole. Which probably means Mail delivery or something of the sort.
Instead, on the other side of that door, I found an old friend.
"BOXES!" I cry out. Sitting there on my front porch was my old German Shepard, my old best friend who had gone missing four years ago.
"Yes Charlie, it's me."
Woah okay. Wait a minute, I must be hearing things. I swore it sounded, and looked, like Boxes just spoke. In English.
"No, you're not crazy Charlie. i really can talk." He said to me in a calm, collected tone.
"Oookay. So you can talk. Assuming I'm not imagining this. I don't mean to sound rude, but, why are you here?" I asked him. I still wasn't entirely sure this was real, but I was slowly accepting the situation.
"Because, it's time we had a chat. Is it alright if I come inside?"
It just now hit me that we had been talking on my front porch. I probably looked crazy to anyone who saw. I invited him back into his old house.
"Wow, things have really changed around here." He said. He walked around, seemingly taking everything in. He stopped at the family photo. Boxes was sitting next to me in the photo.
"I remember this. This was just before I left"
"Yea, I know. Speaking of which, why did you leave?" I asked. I was curious, and while I did miss my best friend, I felt like he owed me an explanation.
"Charlie, old friend, when we first met, you said something to me, and then said it again 5 times over the two years after that. It wasn't common enough for me. I decided to leave so I can find out the truth about myself. Who I am. One day, I was in the street, searching for answers when i realized, who better to answer my question than the man who gave me the answer."
"Okay wait, you ran away instead of just asking me?"
"I wanted an honest answer. I wanted to know what other people thought. If it came from you, it would've been biased. But now that I have heard it from many others, I am almost content."
"Almost?" I asked. I was still trying to figure out what he was getting at exactly.
"Yes. First, Charlie, I would like to be allowed to come back. To live at home with the family again. Our family. If it is okay with you." He said.
"Of course! We've all missed you, Boxes. The kids will be ecstatic to see you again." I said. This was a relief. I was glad he was staying again. But I was still wondering what he was asking, yet it almost felt impolite to ask, because it seemed like he was getting to it.
"Finally Charlie, I have to ask. Just one time."
"Go ahead." I said.
"Am I a good boy?"
| 2017-03-31T15:08:06 | 2017-03-31T09:26:29 | 60 | 27 |
[WP] Alien travelers stopped at Earth to refuel and consult humans in exchange. An allien consulting an astronomer finds a picture of a black hole on her computer. "Oh, you also scare your children with this tale haha". "No, it's a recent photo" she replies. Alien is visibly freaking out.
|
The visitor folded inward in a motion that was thoroughly, for lack of a better word, alien. Dr. Braun turned to the 'liaison' that had brought Klurrt and been acting as translator and cultural advisor. She was surprised to see the man frowning with wide eyes, an expression of deep distaste on his face.
"I'm sorry," said Dr. Braun, "Did I offend... him?"
"I don't know," he said, "I've only seen them do this once before. I'm still not sure what it means." He made a set of noises that approximated the language the alien spoke, leading it to unfold.
Through the translator, Klurrt explained. "They are not supposed to exist anymore. Our ancestors were said to have gathered them and fed them to one another until there was only one and that one was placed at the center of the galaxy where it could do no harm."
"Well, this one is nowhere near the center of the galaxy..." said Dr. Braun.
As the translation was carried out there was a twitch but not a full withdrawal. "Where?"
Dr. Braun tapped her keyboard, dismissing the screensaver and navigated to the folder that contained the images. Finding the one she needed she checked the filename and then pulled up her charting software. A minute later she was able to pull up a render of the expected shape of the milky way and trace a line on it. "We aren't sure how far out it is yet. We're still waiting for the parallax shot. It has to be on this line though, and probably somewhere between here and here."
The sensory head pressed close to the screen and there was a chittering sound.
"What is he saying?"
The translator shrugged until Klurrt turned and spoke again. "This should not be. This is bad."
"Why?" asked Dr. Braun, "It's just a black hole. There are lots of them out there, according to our models."
Klurrt snapped shut almost violently, and refused to open again.
"Maybe we shouldn't have told them that."
|
Have been reading WP for a while. This is my first attempt at writing something for here. Feel free to critique as it is the only way I will improve.
--------
"It's what" the alien said surprised
"It's the most recent image taken of a Black Hole" the astronomer replied.
"How did you get this, Our best scientists have theorised that a large enough star could collapse into a singularity and have produced images like this but it is only a theory. We have never been able locate one"
"How were you looking" The scientist asked.
"We were using extremely fine gravitational detectors and the most advanced x ray sensors that we have developed looking for holes in space and the background radiation but have never located any. How did you locate them"
"A scientist by the name of Stephen Hawking theorised that due to the nature of the way black holes interact with virtual particles that pop into existence and then disappear they can actually emit radiation , Once we started looking we discovered them everywhere we look. Nearly every galaxy has a super massive black hole in the center of it. This galaxy for example has a black hole larger than this solar system. "
"How do you know that" The alien asked astonished.
"Well, We know the Black hole was there and there are stars orbiting it. We were able to image those stars and map their orbits and using orbital mechanics were able to calculate the mass of the Black Hole they were orbiting" the scientist replied.
The alien looked at the scientist astonished. "I need to bring this information back home immediately that humanity have discovered how to detect black holes. Over the centuries we have lost many ships and have never had an answer as to why. This may just have solved some of those mysteries"
"Who knows what else you may have discovered" the alien said
"Do you know about gravity waves caused by two black holes merging"
"They can do what" the alien said in shock.
"Wait till i tell you about LIGO" the scientist said with a smile.
----
[Where I got the information RE Hawking](https://www.space.com/39988-black-hole-mysteries-stephen-hawking.html)
| 2021-12-24T06:14:38 | 2021-12-24T04:49:03 | 2,278 | 564 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world.
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Police helicopters roared overhead the densely packed apartment complex. In one of the tiny apartments below, I sat at a dingy kitchen table. Across from me, a man sat slumped in his chair, his hands cuffed behind him. A frustrated scowl etched on his face. "You couldn't have possibly traced the explosives", he said perplexed. "And you found me much too quickly after I announced my ransom demands..." I smiled, and said a phrase I'd uttered to hundreds of suspects before, "Well that's the thing Mr. Griggs, ever since I was a young boy I could always find the remote." His eyes widened in the sickening realization that he had just been collared because of my silly little ability to find the location of any remote control. Just then, one of the CSI detectives burst into the cramped kitched. "Sir, we can't find the remote detonator anywhere." I concentrated again to try and locate the precise location of the detonator within the apartment and my heart sank as my eyes drifted back towards Griggs. At that moment, his scowl turned into a crooked smile. "Isn't this a coincidence", he said in a twisted, jovial tone. "Ever since I was a boy, I never needed a remote."
|
Nobody expected much of me.
I was the youngest child of four, the "oopsie" if you will. All my siblings had awesome blessings. One could read any book, put it down, and pick it back up years later and still remember exactly which page they were on. Another could play any instrument of the same material once one was learned- all stringed instruments by 3rd grade, and all brass by 5th.
But my abilities took a rather strange turn.
They say the Earth used to live on Carbon Dioxide before Oxygen was introduced into the atmosphere, changing things forever. I used to be sick when young- always sick and miserable. But now, as I grow old, I find that my ability is leaving me the last human healthy- or even alive- as our atmosphere turns toxic.
I first figured it out while working in a climate-controlled lab. Someone left a tank of CO2 open, and the toxicity knocked everyone else out. Everyone but me. Turns out, I can breath CO2.
At least I'll be the last human left, as our oceans turn toxic and our skies turn gray from the smog and pollution. Hey, I never liked getting sunburnt anyways.
| 2018-06-30T18:35:57 | 2018-06-30T16:59:29 | 45 | 23 |
[WP] You're a lesser demon from actual hell who has taken a part-time job because the supernatural world has been cutting salaries. You suspect your coworker is secretly an angel in the same position. You're both appalled at the brazen evil of your human employers.
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“They cut ‘em again, bloody bastards,” I crushed my fork and tossed it into the hearth. My reptilian skin sizzled, its scales turning over, the gaps between glowing with fiery cinders. “Humans- those insects, they’ve turned agonistic. Atheist. Bullshit, really. If Satan hadn’t been banished, we wouldn’t be in stuck in shit, working part-time jobs in this damned planet.”
Hell’s monarchy fell a millennium ago. Satan had been overthrown by revolutions upon revolutions of demons tired of having to torture souls that had sinned. The human realm’s government system looked much more appealing, so the system changed. Hell had its own Parliament, run by the elite classes of demons, and I just happened to be the butler of one of the elites. God approved because the commotion in Hell tarnished his holier-than-thou name.
With the ancient system changing, the economy toppled. Mankind’s fear for the underworld steadily deteriorated, as more smartasses emerged generation by generation, blinded by incorrect ‘logic’. Chaos ensued. Budget restraints were introduced by the managers upstairs as they reduced Hell’s funding, and the next thing I knew, demons were starving. Cash was low. Hell’s intense heat turned a notch lower. Cannibalism wasn’t an option that had been ruled out during Jesus’ days.
I heaved, on the verge of wrecking my computer.
“Crowley! Crowley – my man, you put on some weight?” My Boss, Ryan, sauntered by. The racist, sexist fuck that he was disturbed me. Here I assumed the atrocious discrimination existing on Earth decades ago had lowered – apparently not. I stared him in the eye, the skin on my face tightening, my knuckles clenching.
“I sure hope not, Boss.” My teeth were gritted, and my nails dug into my palm. “Is there anything you need?”
“Right-o, I need you to pull a night shift, fill in those patents, do some extra research, you know the drill,” he flashed a toothy smile, “also, man-to-man, but your co-worker- Angelina, she single?”
Angelina’s ears perked up, angelic hearing powers and all, and she rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t know, Sir, besides you’re kinda her boss and you’re married, so-,”
“Nuh-uh, Crowley. C’mon, we’re men, we make the rules, eh?”
I let out a small growl. Who does this absolute moron of a mortal think he was? “I-, yes. Yes, of course, Boss.” But I couldn’t lose this job. “And about that extra work, I can’t make do, my wife’s pregnant and-,”
“So? She isn’t giving birth to the baby, now is she? Pretty sure you can spare a night to get some extra work done, right?” His steely voice was laced with venom.
I looked down at the floor, feeling the red lightning bolts in my eyes bulge. “Alright, Boss. Noted.”
Ryan trudged away, hands pocketed, whistling and catcalling at the other women in the office.
“Angelina?” I walked towards her cubicle, voice husky as my inner demon glowered, “Don’t you think the mortals have crossed certain lines?”
She smiled, innocently, but had a mischievous glint in her eyes, “Crowley, I’m an angel. What are you suggesting?”
“I’m suggesting, we teach the residents of this planet a lesson.”
“Crowley-,”
“Before you say anything, don’t you have morals? Do you really, really want a man like that to be able to have that kind of power?”
She tilted her head and grinned. “Hm…what’s the plan?”
\- - -
Constructive criticism is very welcome! If you could, please comment how you liked it, I'd appreciate that :)
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Now that Hell City was making pay cuts I had to find a job in the human world. I took the Hells Express subway which transported demons up to the overworld which was known as Earth. I knew I could find a job since my old job was surveillance on human diplomats. As I made it through the rift, my form began to morph into a human shape. This was a given considering humans aren't exactly too fond of my kind.
As I got off the subway I looked around for any indicator of where I landed. The sign said "Toronto" so I knew I was in Canada. A seemingly homeless man waked up to me and asked for some change.
"I'm sorry sir I have none."
"It's okay. God bless you." Said the man.
I was shocked since the homeless people I had seen from other parts of the world were more aggressive and impolite. "This is going to be easy" I thought.
For a few days I struggled to find a job until one printing company replied with an offer. I took it. Seeing as how I had no choice I couldn't say no. They told me to show up the next day at 8 AM sharp. So I did. In the morning I made my way to the downtown building and up to the 36th floor. When I entered the room of my work I was greeted kindly by all the other employees. In the corner I saw a door with my name on it.
I walked up to my desk for the first time in my life. It was clean and organized. The folders were all stacked neatly into a drawer, the cup of pens on the corner had sections for each colour of pen, and the carpet smelled freshly washed with a lemon-scented detergent of some kind. They really went all out.
I had spent enough time observing humans to perfectly mimick their behaviour. When my boss came in he greeted me and gave me the basic rundown of our goals for this year. When he left I thanked him and shook his hand with a smile. He smiled back.
Just as I sat down and got ready for my first assignment, one of my coworkers stepped into the room with a thick folder labeled "Blue Eye Inc". He plopped it onto my desk and looked me up and down.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" He asked suspiciously.
"No I don't believe so. You don't look familiar to me." I replied.
That's when I looked into his bright ocean blue eyes. The shining sparkle in his pupil was unlike any human I had seen before. He must be one of them. An angel. I had heard rumours about salary cuts in heaven too, but I dismissed them as it was highly unlikely. However this had to be an angel. He had a very slight glow to his face and his eyes sparkled in the light.
"God damn.." I whispered to see if he would react.
He turned around suddenly and said
"Do not blaspheme the name of the lord."
"I knew it!" I exclaimed. "You're an angel. What are you doing here? Are the rumours true?"
"Keep your voice down. Yes the rumours are true but not for long. Some working around needs to be done but soon enough both Heaven and Hell will be back to normal." He explained.
"What are the chances I get stuck here with an angel?" I laughed.
"If you think angels are bad wait until you get to know the boss here. Worse than some of your kind if I say so myself." He joked.
Just as he finished the boss stormed in looking redder than an apple.
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING CHIT CHATTING GET BACK TO WORK YOU GOOD FOR NOTHINGS!" He screamed. "IF I CATCH YOU GOSSIPING ONE MORE DAMN TIME YOU'RE BOTH FIRED!!"
I saw the look in the angels face and knew what he meant. I agree. Humans are the true evil.
| 2020-08-25T01:14:00 | 2020-08-25T00:45:40 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] On a whim, you decide to take a trip down memory lane and revisit your childhood hometown. But when you look it up for directions-- Nothing. No mapped location, no news articles, no records, not even a Wikipedia article. It's like the place where you were born and raised...doesn't exist.
|
Alright, so thats... weird, you think, staring at the results on Google Maps. Weird, but maybe not so surprising, the town was so small. There's a chance that it could have become unincorporated county land in the last year and Google just hadn't caught up. Its been a strange year.
You really had no reason to visit your old home town- all your friends had moved on, and even your parents had found their dream home in the mountains- but it shouldn't be too long of a drive and you really have a craving for a sandwich from Sal's Deli on main street. So you go anyway, borrow a car and start off down the mountain, relying on memory and your pretty good sense of direction. Through the mountains and out of them, following the highway down the valley and onto the desert floor below.
You know you're close when you come to a familiar turnoff and take it. It should only be about 20 minutes now and really, all you're thinking about is that sandwich.
There's a couple of little old houses that watch you pass from the roadside, and a coyote darts across the road in from of you before vanishing into the sage.
Its only after looking at the dashboard clock that you frown. You should have reached it by now. There's another turn off this otherwise endless straight road, signaled by the mutant chicken farm across from it, but you should have reached it by now. It's been almost an hour. Maybe your memory is faulty- you give it another couple miles, another 20 minutes, before you turn around. You've passed nothing but cactus and scrub brush and the occasional- and unfamiliar- ruined or abandoned building, so you turn around. Drive back the way you came, keeping an eye out for you turn, or at least any familiar landmarks to let you know how far you've gone.
There is nothing but the same endless desert. You turn around again.
You only realize how long you've been at it, this back and forth of U-turns, when you notice the sun is setting. Its best to call it quits, even if it feels like the stupidest failure ever. You move to turn the car around again, head back to your parents in the mountains, when it hits you.
You've lost track of which direction you came from.
The mountains should be visible against the horizon, but they aren't. There's no way you've gone that far without realizing. You look back and forth down the now endless stretch of road, but its the same in either direction. Your stomach drops when you remember you haven't passed anyone since you turned off the highway either. Your phone hasn't had service for hours. You are utterly and completely lost, utterly and completely alone, and as it grows darker, there's only one thing left to do.
Pick a direction.
|
I was lost in a memory, overcome with emotions. I recalled the way the heat registers cranked in the silence of the night, and the way the bottom step into the family room creaked. I remembered the smell of my favorite childhood meal, and the scent of my mother’s perfume. It all came back in a rush of flooding memories and suddenly, I was homesick.
I packed my bags, desperate for an old trip down memory lane.
I drove, following the same familiar route home that I used to take every summer break from college. I hadn’t been able to stomach a visit since she died.
Four years ago my mother passed away, suddenly vanishing from my life like vapor. She was my rock, my armor, my everything. And after she left me I could never stomach returning home, not until now.
As I thought I was arriving, I was mystified. Somehow I’d driven straight through without realizing, ending up in Shelbyville. I made a U-turn and circled back, driving through the mist, right back into Springfield.
I parked on the side of the road, scratching my head dumbfounded. If I remembered correctly, my home town of Utica had always been tucked quietly away between the two major cities of the state. But as I drove it seemed nonexistent.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers a blur as I typed, researching my old address. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat, my search turning up empty. I began to panic as sweat pooled in my palms. “It must be a mistake.” I told myself, refreshing the page and searching once more, coming up blank for the second time around.
My old home, the place I’d grown up and scraped my knees too many times to count, was untraceable. Every fiber in my being shook, suddenly unable to recall the name of my home town, or my old street. I checked my history, but the last searches to show were those I’d completed that morning.
Unaware of what the fuck was going on, I started to tremble, convulsing in the drivers seat of my Chevy. My chest got heavier with every breath I took. An attack of panic arose within me, and I reached for the glove box, desperately reaching for my spare inhaler.
Forgetting where I was at all, or what I was doing, I shrugged, and followed the route swiftly back home to the safety and serenity of my apartment and my dog, completely unaware of why I was out of the house in the first place
It was as though the entire day had been wiped clear from my head, as if it never happened at all.
| 2021-05-23T05:48:17 | 2021-05-22T22:53:06 | 80 | 40 |
[WP] You’ve been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You think you have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. You’re up next.
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Humankind is not meant to live many hundreds of years. Or thousands. I should know; I'm somewhere in my teen-hundreds. Calendars have come and gone in my centuries of desiccation. My skin smells of dust and mites, the oils that lubricate it long forgotten. My stomach churns at the sound of my bones grinding together, the sacs between that would soften it long dry. It is a crime against nature, against yourself, against magic to live this long.
The sentence for crimes against magic is death. A death, selected by you, to be carried out immediately. The archjurist peered over the dais at me, "You have been sentenced to a death of your own choosing. Now choose."
Angrily I pause and collect my thoughts. Who are these mages to pass judgement on me, after all I've done. After the injustices I have suffered. The slights. The dismissal of my works. They should be thanking me for my contributions to magic. For my discoveries. The experiments only I would do. The revolution only I could lead. In the shuffling silence an idea begins to grow, first a vile worm, infecting my own mind, then a swarm engulfing the juromancers' bench. A pestilence on the whole world. Surely it couldn't be this easy; someone has to have tried it before...
"I will die in a magical explosion, a torrent of pure arcane energy, killing myself, every surviving member of this tribunal, and all of your surviving descendants to the 7th generation!"
The archjurist stands up, shocked. "This is not done. Are you certain you demand such a grave and serious fate"?
"Yes. If I'm going down for this, I'm taking you all with me", I shout back triumphantly, "but I don't think you want to come, do you."
"No, we do not wish to die at this time. You can have your sentence. I have the power to grant it; I am sorry." After a hushed conference with a clerk they continue, "You, but only you, will die in a magical storm, long after my children and their children and their children's children's children's children's children are long past. And the same for every other judge in this tribunal." As gavel hits block I taste copper in my mouth, my throat, my ears. A strange sensation in my brain - oh, it's tasting copper for the first time. "But I must ask you, why do you want to live the entire lifespan of a mage who can extend life as long as they please, and many times that as well"?
The archjurist has had hundreds of descendants. The others thousands. I haven't been able to keep track of all of them. But some of the 7th long generation have passed, and I think all of the 5th. My nights of sleep dwindled to hours, hours of sleep have dwindled to minutes, and some nights I no longer sleep at all. I like to imagine that if I could dream that I would dream that I will be dead before two thousand.
|
\[The Magistrate's Death Sentence\] (Non-canon)
Hehe... I had them beat. these inmates, they think small, like a baby chick, but me? I like to think big. Bigger than any of these damnable mages could ever pull off. I may be a criminal, but a being like me knows a trick or two to get them to slip, like an Olympic runner's shoes sliding on ice. After all, they MUST enact their prisoner's dying wish, but this one... is just impossible.
"Prisoner Number 4755, state how you wish to die" The leader among them commanded out. They knew how I ended up here, because I committed genocide upon the magical races and attempted to ensure there would be no survivors left, but there were.
"Heh. The way I'll die? Battle to the death, between all nine of you versus one of me, without magic, with my death resulting shortly after my victory against you all, " I retorted, my eyes moving about like someone who's completely lost themselves to madness, a cocky smirk spreading over my face. I saw their eyes all widen, as this was a first for them.
The leader stood up. No other prisoner could even say they managed to even get the leader of these Magi to raise even but a hand, yet here I am, having made him stand tall, a 5 foot 11 male who looked to be moderately well toned. And from his normally dead serious look, I saw him break a smile.
"Clever lass," He simply responded. The very words sent shivers down the other eight's spines. They knew they had no chance against me, yet they couldn't go against the way I wished to perish, "She's won. No other prisoner here could ever do what she just pulled, not in comparison to the feats she's pulled. We have no choice but to send her back to her dimension, everyone."
"What!? You would send this DEMON back to HER world!?" One of the others in the council got up, exasperated, "Have you ANY IDEA what she may have even done in her world!?"
"You mean OTHER than kill a bunch of corrupt beings like tyrants, selfish gods and royal demons?" The third magi knew of my accomplishments, somehow. The second magi shut up immediately from hearing it, "I sensed you were not the one who actually committed the crime, though you intentionally carried her face to unnerve us before asserting victory. I would assume it to be in... well, everything's interest right now to send you home.... Avidala."
That was the last they told me, before I woke up next to Levira in the dead of night. I o not care to fully understand what happened to me, but for all I care, I had done the impossible, even for a different world entirely, if only that other me could see the look on my face as she suffers...
\[End.\]
| 2022-11-18T20:35:55 | 2022-11-18T19:26:21 | 155 | 51 |
[WP] Finally dead, you wait quietly at the train station of the afterlife. As you watch everyone leave off to face their judgement, you eventually sit alone… waiting. You watch as a scythe-wielding hooded figure starts approaching, and he… sighs? “Aw man… why’d it have to be you?”
|
"Aw man... why'd it have to be you?" The figure said blocking the mid morning sun from my face.
"It was a beautiful day out. I told her I'd meet her one fine day. Seemed like as good a day as any." I couldn't look up. Well, wouldn't. I couldn't bring myself to look at another person or being at this moment.
"You weren't supposed to be here for another forty years." If a black mass of robes could look defeated, he did. I played with my hands, my knee wouldn't stop bouncing. "You could have had a happier life."
"You know all of fate. Why was my passing so shocking? What was different about my life that you are disappointed?" I started to get a bit choked up now. I knew what led me here was wrong.
"It's not that I'm disappointed. Shocked would be the closer emotion. There were people counting on you. People you hadn't met yet, people that their stories depended on you." He sat down on the bench next to me. Tears started flowing from my eyes. "I know it was hard. I saw how you had yelled at the sky, tried to break open the ground with your fists, cursed every god in existence. Your son won't know what's going on."
"I know he won't understand. That's the way it was with his mother as well. Others can care for him better than I could." I was trembling as the walls finally broke down. A dam had lost its structural integrity and now everything flooded me.
"Yes and no. Yes, they will take care of him and get him to all his appointments and the best schools and what not but that's all window dressing. He's an orphan now and that leaves a mark on someone so young."
"I know. I felt so isolated though. Like I was in the fight alone. Like all I had was him --"
"And all he had was you." Death stared at me. Pulling off his hood, he looked me in the face. A middle aged man with kind brown eyes, salt and pepper hair. Not the traditional look I would expect. I was expecting a lot less skin. "You discount yourself. You always have and one day it would have made sense."
"His grandparents will make sure he has everything he could ever want."
"No. The one thing his heart will yearn for will never be filled."
"That happened when he lost his mother."
"And you lost your wife."
"I know I messed up. I couldn't take it anymore."
"No, you could have. You gave others hope. You prevented a dozen others from coming here early yet you decided to take the early train yourself. Why?"
"I already told you, it was a fine day and I didn't want to feel alone anymore."
"You still aren't getting it. You weren't alone. There were dozens of people around you who loved you, who cared for you. You shouldn't be here." He reached out with a remorseful hand. It felt much like when my grandfather was comforting me many years ago. "You still have work you need to do."
"How? Not like I can go back now."
"Not many can. There's enough orphans in the world. You come back when I'm ready." Death said before pushing my head back with a gentle shove.
There was a click. The hammer had struck the pin but there must have been a misfire. Just in time for there to be a knock, the sound of a small fist hitting the bedroom door. "Daaaaddy? Chocolate milk?" The tiny voice said on the other side of the door. Tears rained on the bedroom floor as I stowed the pistol back in the safe.
"Hey buddy, give daddy a second while I get ready." I got up and started drying my face. "What do you say we go see your Anny Manny and Uncle?"
|
"Let's face it, Death comes for us all." I said with a wink.
"Look, I was drunk.... lonely. It was a on time thing." The skull clacked, not blushing only because it had no skin.
"It was very much NOT a one time thing." I cackled a little.
Death fumed a little. "Just because you embarrass me does not mean I'll let you stay in the land of the living." The words were curt and echoed inside my skull.
"I know." I said, a touch of sadness edging into my smile. "I just wanted to have one last bit of fun before I....", I nodded towards the empty tracks.
"Do you know which way I'm going?" I asked.
Death's robe swirled and reappared beside me. "You're not exactly a typical case, so it's still being considered. And even if I did, it'd be against protocol for me to reveal that to any soul. Even yours."
I felt the cold icy hand of Death on my shoulder. "You've always had your reasons. Murder for life. Power for peace.... where do YOU think you'll end up?"
"I'm not sure. Until about an hour ago, I'd thought none of this was real. I was still only half-sure our little night together was real."
"E, you lived a full life. Divisive in many ways, but full. Human history changes on a dime, but you changed it more than most. Regardless of the result... do you think it was worth it? Do you think the world will be a better place?"
"A lot of people died. And they died for me. Because I wanted us to...." I shrugged my shoulders. "I played politics, I murdered one of my best friends. She was a spy. I think..." I could feel the tears welling.
"I remade the world. I actually did it. But... I don't know if it'll hold. If it was worth it." I hugged my arms closer.
"Will you tell me at least? If... when my regime falls?"
Death's skull shook. "It wouldn't be fair."
I nodded, a couple tears fell. Yeah. I figured as much.
"Sorry about all the work I made you do the last 5 years." I half-laughed half-cried.
"That wasn't the only time I had it rough." I could hear a dark chuckle emenate from the skull.
"... Death?" I paused. "Why DID you choose me? Were you trying to distract me. Help me escape something? I never figured it out. Out of everyone on the planet... in all history... why me?"
A sigh came from non-existant lungs.
"Out of everyone. Literally everyone. You flirted with me the most. And I thought you were cute."
A train car rattled slowly. I looked over and saw it slowly pull in front of us.
"Looks like they decided." I said, and stood up. I looked back, still unsure if Death had been serious about the reason.
"What happens if I choose to just... stay?"
"Nothing." The sound was incredibly vibrant in that voice. Sinister and mournful. "But you'll go. Everyone does."
I gathered myself and wiped my tears.
"Thank you. For... waiting with me."
"It's the least I could do." And I'm sure it was meant with all sincerity.
I stepped tentatively onto the train. And the doors shut behind me. I turned to look and saw Death's cloak swirling around. The skull looking neither happy or sad.
I waved goodbye as the train began to move. A bony finger gently waved back.
The tunnel was ahead.
And then I was gone.
| 2022-03-05T17:44:43 | 2022-03-05T15:59:58 | 325 | 70 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10.
|
Ever since I can remember I had a gift. A gift of knowing how "dangerous" a person might be. I measure people on a scale of 1 -10, people in comas are a 1 while dictators and supreme leaders hit a 10.
I've never seen anyone hit a ten in my life until I turned on the t.v. and saw a democratic candidate running for president again. The chills I got when I saw him smile, those chill that haunt you and stay with you. The candidate was a very charismatic guy and a ladies man too. If only they knew how dangerous that man was...
Months passed and he won the election. I couldn't believe it... With that power now one know what will happen. Will he be the cause of a new world war? We are already in a bringe to war with Russia! Damn it! This cannot be happening! I have do something but how and when? I live in Dallas and he's in Washington D.C., I'll have to kill him when he's here. But I just can't remember his name...
I just can't remember his name, his name started with a J, J what? J... J... Got it! John! John something Kennedy! That's his name! J.F.K. On the 22nd he will be here. I got to get my things ready...
If I don't stop him...
Who will...
|
Numbers taste funny. Nines bud into fires on my tongue, their spent embers resembling something akin to zeros. Ones bleed blue like melting ice or my nurse's cerulean eyes. Fives dissolve like Wonderbread and feel like cotton in my ears. When I went to school with other children, they tasted like loaves of stale white bread. Always purple fours at their desks, bland twos yellowing during educational videos. Peppery sixes on the monkey bars, but I would only watch.
My favorite numbers glowed orange, tasted like hot tea. One time, I tried to make the school turn red. Billowing pillars of smoky eccentricity, almost making nines. Eights running down the crimson hall. Sevens helping fallen sixes. No number tasted blue. And then they started putting me in another classroom. The seats' kaleidoscopic occupants percolating and icing throughout the day, especially during music time.
Six weeks later, the alarm bell exploded fantastic. The door became a prism of sixes bumping into sevens, bursting into nines, knocking over eights. I was not supposed to leave the room. Five minutes the screaming Wonderbread burned the cotton from my ears. My tongue rolled electrically and someone finally heard me.
A boy wandered in, soot-faced and smiling. White-hot teeth burning from his mouth. Eyes like zeros. Nostrils flaring like volcanoes.
"Another ten," he said, and strolled away.
| 2014-11-29T14:44:07 | 2014-11-29T13:27:21 | 140 | 86 |
[WP] It's Halloween, the anniversary of when everyone became the costume they were wearing. Those who skipped Trick-or-treating or don't celebrate were lucky, but now they must live with friends and family who became "the cursed".
|
Ah, Halloween. My favourite time of year. I love seeing all the little ghouls and goblins running around, enjoying themselves. The world has changed a lot in the one year since "The Curse". Different countries handled it differently; Russia and China cracked down on those that were changed very quickly, many of them disappeared in a matter of weeks after the event. The UK is still trying to legislate some kind of system for sharing the streets between the changed and the unchanged, but the prime minister being turned into a litteral baby made the whole thing a bit of a fiasco. Canada declared freedom for all the changed, but still had some trouble sorting through the hundreds of Wayne Gretzkys clogging up their ice rinks.
Here in the US it was largely freedom for all, though various religious groups tried to apply restrictions in the more conservative states. Ultimately though, the changed were declared a protected class by the supreme court. (I think it helped that three of them had been turned as well)
At home though, it's an entirely different beast. My husband's family doesn't invite us over for dinner anymore. They say it's because they don't how to adjust to my new "all blood" diet, but I'm not sure they liked me much to begin with.
The kids seem to have taken it alright, though I hate that I only get to see them for a few hours before bed time. My oldest has learned how to use her fairy magic rather quickly, and we try to get regular mother-daughter flight practice in before she goes to bed in the evenings, (getting used to her new pronouns took a little work, but she seems much happier now). My son was a bit of a hassle since raptor proofing the entire house cost a little more than we expected, but my husband and I have worked out a system that keeps him safe and out of trouble (though he's learning how to open doors at an alarming rate.)
The hardest thing to deal with was the dog. He was rambunctious enough as a puppy, more so now that he's flying around and breathing fire. It's gotten bad enough that we've had to talk about putting him down if he roasts anymore of the neighborhood cats, but my husband was kind enough to insist on taking care of it himself. Something about his pride as the Grim Reaper.
|
It is 1 am. The orange street lights illuminate the empty urban streets in the late night. Howls can be heard from afar, and the a few creatures of the night prowl about. Meanwhile, I am sitting in my house to my lonesome while worrying about my girlfriend. She is out for a Halloween party with her friends and I trust that she is safe, but my fears continue to linger.
Per tradition of the spooky season, she would dress up as the Statue of Liberty. A strange decision until you take in account her tallness along with her fixation for statues in general. In short, this is the perfect costume for her. Each year, i would help her make the flowing robe and torch while she design the crown. Sadly, I am not able to join her for the party due to a convenient cold causing me to miss the event. Regardless, I am glad to at least help design her costume again.
I start to doze off due to my drowsiness of staying up past my normal sleeping hours. Suddenly, a tremor shook me awake. A slight rumble in the earth, at first. Soon, the slight rumbles became earth shattering quakes. The howling from before are silent, now the noise of several car alarms going off. Whatever this thing is, two things are certain, it is big and it is coming my way!
I open my window from the second floor of the apartment and look down the street. I could not believe my eyes. Perhaps it is my mind playing tricks on me, but there is the statue of liberty strolling down the street, towering over all of the buildings around the neighborhood and crushing cars underfoot. My jaw drop to the windowsill. The bronze statue continues her way down the street until she reaches the apartment building. She kneels down to look through the windows while still clutching a bronze tablet and a lively torch. After getting a good look at her face, I could not believe my own eyes. That is not just the statue of liberty, that is my girlfriend! She eventually find my window and waves at me. I do not know how she became so huge and made of bronze, but I know that she is home safe and sound.
| 2021-10-06T01:18:22 | 2021-10-05T23:49:49 | 54 | 30 |
[WP] Your boss discovered that you are a demon. Now you can no longer skip work because he could just draw a pentagram in blood and summon your ass to the office, then bind it to the desk for the next 10 hours. It was truly Hell.
|
"Dude! What in the actual?" I said, dripping suburban water all over what might, at one time and in just the right light, be charitably called a carpet. "I was in the shower."
Dani looked embarrassed for about a picosecond, then snerked. "Clearly," she said, as I shook the water off and materialized some clothing. "Now we are way behind on cases, so get cracking. You're mine for the day and you know it," she said, tapping one over-lacquered fingernail against the little framed scroll I'd hung up in my cube as a "joke".
I sat down in a huff, apported my badge, and logged in to the ancient computer that dominated my little desk. Absently, I reached for the Seal of Solomon carved invisibly (thank you laser-pointers) into the left-hand desk panel of my government-issued cubicle, but my hand closed around empty air instead of cool aluminum. Apparently Dani had either not read down to the end of the scroll, or thought the "required offering"was not
*strictly*
required. A slow smile crept across my face as I settled in to work, exactly as instructed.
|
I laughed manically as I appeared at my desk.
“Did you really think that’s going to work, Mr President? Summoning me with blood and binding me to the desk? It only lasts through the first command you issued which was ‘hold this folder for me’ And even then the cheap-ass chicken blood you used only borrows fifteen minutes of my time”
I unrolled my tongue and lapped up all the blood on the pentagram and bared my fangs at him. The attending secret service reached his hand inside his jacket towards his gun. I could smell the silver tipped bullets inside. They would sting and I’d have to respawn in two hours. I rolled my eyes.
“No need for that, Ted.”
The President waved his hands.
“Leave us, Ted.”
“Are you sure,Mr President?”
The President just waved again and Ted left the room.
“**Now that we’re alone...**”
The President took her true form and snuggled up to me.
“Oh Lucy honey, how I miss you...” I mumbled, nuzzling her neck
| 2019-09-24T08:19:10 | 2019-09-24T07:18:48 | 48 | 32 |
[WP] You are God, after a couple thousand years of people thinking you don't answer their prayers, you realise you've had yourself on mute on the celestial microphone you use to talk to humans.
Edit: Wow, I never expected this to blow up, Thank you for the silver, it was my first ever award!
Edit 2: GOOOLD! Thank you all for such positive feedback, I'll come up with some more prompts soon, and I've written a few replies myself to other stories. No idea how to share them if you want to read though :D
|
"Well, fuck!" boomed a deep voice from the sky.
At first, the only ones startled were the few people who absolutely, positively knew they were nowhere within reach of a P/A system.
"Peter, can you believe this mute button? Could it be any more hidden?" rang the heavens.
Panic began to set in.
Multicultural friends tried to translate the words to each other -- God speaks in a language everyone understands.
Entire cities froze, confused. Nightclubbers, hearing music so loud it was hard to breathe near a speaker, heard the words. Some thought it was the drugs kicking in, most knew this was different.
Underworld meetings promptly turned into shooting galleries -- "he's got a wire!"
Military maneuvers went awry; airplanes fell from the sky.
"Seriously, Jesus, was this you? This is what happens when you get a carpenter to do an engineer's work," commanded the firmaments to the Muslims and Christians.
The Jews heard a complaint about how one God was expected to do everything, the Hindus a joke about how four hands can't find a button.
One guy in Seattle heard a red frog tell a blue frog "mics are so passé."
Turns out one God was the same as many gods as no gods and everyone was right about what happens when you die.
Which was a good thing, because the sudden reappearance of deities after 2,000 years made many people die.
"Ok, ahem, testing, testing. I want you all to be nice to each other, got it?" bellowed the sacred voice from above.
The two billion humans who heard it started cleaning up right away.
|
"My love"
"Yes Hlödyn my dear?"
"What are you doing?"
"Same old same old. Trying to get these deaf mortals to listen to my wisdom for once. I gave up a me-damned eye for said wisdom and helvete fucking damn it I will use it."
"Dear...I now know why Thor is so irritated with you. That microphone was on _mute_ you old man."
"...Please never mention this to anyone."
"...no."
///
"_**Attention mortals! It is I, ODIN, Ruler of Asgard and Savior of Midgard, and Vanquisher of those Fucking Extraterrestrial Ice Giant Assholes. Today I am here to impart with you my great wisdom. But first I want you to prepare a grand feast with atleast a thousand virgin prostitutes for my pleas-"**_
_THUD_
_**"Disregarding the last sentence. It is my wish for you to live in peace and harmony amongst yourselves, and to not stir needless conflict unless you want to die by holy thunder. I will hold those of faith, and especially those PEDOPHILIC hypocrites who called us pagan, of higher moral standards than those who are not. Those who are in power are instructed to conduct themselves in a honest manner... or else. There will be more wisdom later."
**_
///
Back at Asgard, the Lord Odin realized that his entire family had gathered. Afterall, it was his first public announcement to Midgard in millennia.
"..."
"Really father?"
***
| 2019-06-03T09:40:22 | 2019-06-03T08:58:04 | 111 | 77 |
[WP] Reincarnation exists. You wish it didn't. All conscious minds are simply feeding appendages of an extra dimensional parasitic being which consumes meaning from its host universe. Upon death everything you have experienced and all that you are is stripped from you. You vow to poison the beast.
|
Building a world is challenging. But building a whole universe is extraordinarily difficult. The simulation you currently reside in took me more time to construct than a human can fathom. Yet, it was all worth it. Your universe was perfect, everything was set in motion as I intended, all with my preconceived plan. Like a great wind up doll you moved forward through time, step by planned step.
There is nothing better than watching your creation as it blossoms slowly, predictably.
And for the first few billion years of this great experiment everything went smoothly. But then a Soulthirst, in its god-forsaken malignancy, wrapped its tentacles around my beautiful creation, around my perfect universe—your universe—consuming with its desperation, all the meaning, all the memories, all the life that blooms within my creation.
At first, I tried to simply remove it, but that, of course, was not so simple, and it latched itself to my universe with even more grip, consuming all the souls as they passed. But these souls were mine, you see. I created them and I wanted them back, yet this Soulthirst was stealing them.
I had but only one option. With a little change in my design, I put in an interesting little hiccup. And that was to give freewill to all of my little beings that I molded with my own hands. You see with this little addition—freewill—my universe now splays out with an infinite amount of parallel universes. And the Soulthirst, in its never ending desire to consume all meaning, latches its tentacles to every single one.
Each time you decide to wear your pink shirt instead of your red shirt, another universe is born and the Soulthirst’s desperate tentacles reaches out within the void, stretching further and further.
And yet the Soulthirst is not infinite. It cannot consume like this forever. It is expanding, and this expansion is a slow poison, a death pill. It will reach its limit.
And so, my beautiful creations, utilize your free will and fill the void with the infinite expansion of your choices.
r/CataclysmicRhythmic
|
“How long has it been?” I wondered to myself. “How many times have I...been.” The questions echoed in my mind, indicating that this was far from the first time I’d asked them. I never really fully understood the entirety of my, nay, our, dilemma. While I’d always had suspicions, theories, and conjecture, they’d always been just that.
But recently, something changed. What had been minute glimpses of the greater reality started widening into full-fledged stares of examination; suddenly, my eyes were opening, and the picture was becoming ever so clear. From the time I was a child, I knew something about this world wasn’t right.
Deep within me, somehow, I instinctively knew “This world is not my home.” What I didn’t understand at the time was that my life was to be the culmination of a multitude of lives. Millennia of those that came before that caught glimpses of the greater reality, and the task that must be accomplished to break the cycle of the creature’s feeding.
All before me have failed, but a few cycles prior to my existence, the seers of the old ways could see the potential for an end to the rebirth. “Inevitably, a sacrifice must be made. A child will be born, who must willingly accept a life of bitter loneliness, hostility, being shown hatred, and pain. And through it all, he must smile, and also choose to house love.”
My whole life has been one misery after the next. My inclination has been to allow my misery to grow into sadness and anger, then bitterness, then hatred towards myself and the planet. I have realized, however, that this is the creature’s favorite meal. I fed him plenty throughout this cycle.
The beast knows what I’ve endured. He has seen the horrors my eyes have witnessed, and expects me to remain bitter and spiteful the remainder of my days. But no more shall I feed the beast. Now, I shall plunge myself into his belly with a dish he cannot digest: hope, laughter, lightness, and love.
| 2021-02-09T06:53:07 | 2021-02-09T03:57:23 | 400 | 47 |
[WP] Making the body immortal does not mean the mind becomes immortal as well. Today, the mindless bodies of the wealthy from centuries ago haunt civilization.
|
We watched the Immy walk into a wall.
"Who was he?"
"Someone wealthy, maybe someone important, maybe just a celebrity. they used to keep records on them, but eventually they just stopped".
"Seems like a cold thing to do".
"They're just twitching meat at this point. No way to kill them, but they have no real sentience. Their brains rotted away on schedule, even if their bodies didn't".
"Isn't there, like, a place for them, a sanctuary?"
"There was back until around the 2150s, but it got harder and harder to staff them. People got sick of hearing the Immys repeat the same stupid phrases over and over, so they just got let out. Kinda like Reagan did to the mentally ill way back pre WWIII. Except the Immys aren't actually dangerous, they just kind of walk around. The most harm they could do is cost you a repair bill if you hit them with a car. They sure as hell don't mind. Nothing can keep them down".
"Do you think there's anything left in there?"
"Maybe a little, but not much. They have basic motor skills, and usually repeat a phrase they said a lot in life. You know, 'buy low, sell high', or 'think different'. Kind of sad, really".
"What's this one saying?"
"No idea".
We got a little closer, as the Immy continued to walk into the wall, back up, then walk into it again. We could just make out his words over the thud his head made against the wall.
"Yer fired, ask anybody"
|
The easiest way to tell Old Money from New Money is to ask the twenty-something with the tailored outfit and the vacant stare one simple question: “What time it is?”
If they can answer you with a reasonable degree of accuracy, they’re New Money. If they shamble onwards, utterly ignorant to your existence, they’re Old Money. If the latter is the case, guide them out of sight and terminate them as swiftly as you can.
Old Money usually move in herds, and the oldest among them have a habit of gathering in the Flatiron. We would usually recommend staking a position on top of the nearest building and waiting for one of them to walk by the window, but the glass can't be penetrated with conventional weaponry anymore.
Instead, construct your homemade carbon monoxide generator (instructions attached) and save it for the bi-monthly trek to the Flatiron’s roof. Once you're there, press the red button and throw the thing in any vent you want.
If you're arrested, ask for a lawyer immediately. Once said lawyer arrives, repeat the following: “There’s too many devils on earth.”
If they respond, “Better the devils you know,” start discussing a breakout strategy. We can't guarantee that your extradition will be swift, so be prepared to serve a good portion of your life sentence.
If their response is anything other than the above, **you are on your own**.
Above all, remember: Governments can lie. Statistics can't. And the statistics are saying that, soon...
There won't be enough room left for any of us.
| 2022-02-17T07:45:34 | 2022-02-17T07:20:44 | 23 | 17 |
[WP] Every person has two deaths. One when their heart stops beating and another when their name is spoken for the last time. To enter Heaven you must experience both deaths.
|
"I just don't understand it," John said.
His eyes stung with the threat of tears as his last living relative passed through the pearly gates into heaven. As Saint Peter welcomed the elderly man into the golden sunlight of heaven, the years fell from his shoulders and he bounded spryly off towards the horizon, vanishing from John's sight into unseen rapture. Saint Peter turned back through the gates and met John's gaze with a look of commiseration.
"I had my hopes up for you, John," Saint Peter said in his ephemeral voice.
"How could it be that I'm still spoken of?" John asked, lifting his gaze from the now all too familiar clouds underfoot.
"I'm afraid I just don't know," said Saint Peter, and he laid a companionable hand on John's shoulder before moving away to greet the next entrant to heaven.
"I mean, it's not like I have a common name or anything!" John exclaimed to himself for what felt like the ten millionth time.
"How many Jacob-Jingleheimer-Schmidts could there be!?"
|
We are the in-between. The not-truly-dead. Cast adrift in time and space.
I don't even know why I'm here. I died over a century ago, and yet my name still echos, somewhere, my legacy remembered. There is a blessing to it, and a curse.
I have spoken with the greatest, and the worst of human history. From Julius Caesar to Queen Victoria, Alexander the Great and Yi Sun-shin. The 'regulars', we call them. The names and voices so known and so great they might never be forgotten.
There are more than you would think- ever try to count the names in a history textbook? It takes more than a name for them to remain-it takes something of who they *are*, some piece of their soul tied down on earth in memory, but someone's life's work is more than enough. That's probably why I'm still here, in fact- I was a doctor, I fought disease and death across the world. Perhaps something of that is still remembered with my name. I can be proud of that.
| 2016-01-05T17:40:05 | 2016-01-05T12:05:07 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Steven's grandmother knits. Not because she likes to, but because she has to.
Hanging by a thread.
|
He swallowed to keep his heart from lurching out of his body.
The doorknob turned heavily under his small hand, like a planet revolving around it's axis. With both hands, he pushed to open the door faster, but it seemed to swing at it's own momentum.
"Hello?" Steven called into the gloomy darkness. There was no answer.
At first, he saw no lights, and he was afraid. Was Grandmother sleeping? Yet Mama seemed to *know* Grandmother was awake.
Steven tried again, "Grandmother?"
This time he heard the steady *click-clack*, which to him sounded like bones rattling against each other.
A raspy voice drifted across through the darkness, "Is that you, Isabel?"*Clack-click-clack*
Blue light illuminated the room, and whether the light grew brighter, or his eyes had simply adjusted, Steven could not be sure. In the corner of the room, surrounded by seas of lumpy wool and swathes of fabric, Grandmother sat in an old rocking chair.
"No, it's me, Grandmother. It's Steven. I've brought your linens."
Steven walked closer, remembering his mother's words: *When you see her, you must not be afraid. Be nice to her, and for God's sake, don't touch anything.*
"That's very sweet of you, child. Lovely." The blue light grew brighter as Steven approached, illuminating the old woman in the rocking chair.
He saw her hair first - long, black strands, spread out and floating around her, as if she was submerged in water. The veins that trailed along her ancient hands glowed and pulsed with warm light. He wanted to turn and run.
"Come closer, dear Steven, and let me see what has become of my descendants."
His heart threatened to beat right out of his body, but Steven did as he was told, dragging the fabrics behind him.
"Would you like to come talk to your dear, old Grandmother?"
His body said 'no,' but there was something about her that moved him. She was frightening, yes, but she was important too. He could tell by the way her eyes sparkled like the night sky.
His voice was hushed, barely a whisper, "What are you knitting, Grandmother?"
"Ah, the same thing I've been knitting for a long time."
"Is it important?"
The old woman's cackle was sharp, like a sudden strike of thunder in the dark, but Steven did not quell in fear.
"To some people, it is very important. To others, well, not everyone appreciates my work."
"I *apper-ciate* it, Grandmother!" Steven spoke without entirely understanding the word, but he spoke in earnest. His Grandmother broke into a smile, a hint of sunlight peeking out from her gums.
"I'm sure you do, Steven." *Click-clack-click,* "Would you like to see it? Come here, then, child."
She spent several, long minutes unfurling the pile of fabrics from her lap. Steven watched in awe, as the wools and yarns and other cloths spooled out and out in impossible lengths. He was careful not to touch the cloths as they extended out into the room, some falling heavily to the floor, others hanging in the air, as if unaffected by gravity.
"Ah, here we are. Look, Steven." Grandmother pointed at an image imprinted on the fabric: a sapphire circle, imperfectly shaped, with patches of green and brown and yellow marring it's surface. The longer Steven stared at the circle, the more it seemed to come to life - an orb, spinning in the vast expanses of black fabric.
"I made this one, oh, ages ago. It was always one of my favorites."
|
Day after day, Ethel Peaworthy knits. The surveillant eyes of The Man in Black watches her ever so intently. Her hobby that she used to love and enjoy has now become a tiresome bore. Unfortunately, it's necessary for her to stay alive. Ethel can hardly remember the days before her confinement in the so-called Knittory.
Her calloused hands reflect the hours wasted making hats, gloves and other bits of clothing. Time seems to fold over with such a meaningless task. Ethel use to wonder as to why they needed such a large amount of knitted items, but at this point, she knows she'll never get the answer. The only solace she finds is the presence of the other old woman stuck in the stuff factory with her. She often dreams of seeing her family again.
Suddenly, a bell rings and a loud speaker announces, "Lunch time. Five minute break before knitting resumes." A plate of God-knows-what falls in front of her. She pokes it a few times with her knitting pin and then proceeds to dig in. The tasteless goo that she eats everyday is the only bit of momentary joy she can find. As lunch finishes up, the group of older woman head back to their stations to continue their knitting. Ethel notices that one of the oldest knitters has not picked up her needles.
"I can't take it anymore!" screamed Janice. "I'm nearly 85 years old... or at least I think that's my age now. My fingers are chafed to the bone. I'm done."
Without hesitation, two faceless figures appear from the backroom and drag Janice away from the floor. This is not the first time that someone has refused to be subservient. Ethel shakes her head as the elderly woman disappears through the doors out of the factory. She's seen many woman go through the doors, but she's never seen any woman come back. "Goodbye, Janice" she murmurs under her breath. She picks up her needles and begins to knit.
The next day, the knitting factory seems to be in full swing. The ladies toil away without thought and are on the right track to meet the quota instituted by The Man in Black. After Ethel's lunch of gruel, she returns back to her station to find a mysterious bit of fabric. A small square knitted together in quite the hurry, but there was a small bit of writing stitched into it. "Tonight - b, o - 0400". Ethel quickly looked up and scanned the room for her friend Marie. As they locked eyes, a quick nod was exchanged between the two.
Ethel's excitement over the note was evident. She knew exactly what it meant. They were finally breaking out tonight. She grabbed her knitting needles and started her work on a pair of mittens. As she worked on this boring task, a slight smile traverses her face.
Meanwhile, The Man in Black sits in the surveillance room overseeing the work. He is pleased with the amount of output the ladies are producing. As he glances over at each of the security cameras on every individual worker, he cannot notice the grin on Ethel's face. He hasn't seen her smile in all her years here.
He inches his face extremely close to the monitor and says, "What are you smiling about, N344? Guess we're going to have to find out." He walks towards the door to the factory floor and swings them open. Ethel's heart drops as she sees The Man in Black. She glances over at Marie who's eyes remain fixed on her work.
"N344! Please come with me."
| 2015-10-01T08:58:21 | 2015-10-01T08:34:52 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Ever since turning 17 you've been hearing a voice saying "Get out of my head". After having had enough, you get an MRI scan revealing what the doctors think is a tumor and they want to remove it. Then you realize, that's you. You're a parasite.
|
It realized it was not in control, nor had it ever been. It was just a slave in Julian's mind, a tumor attached to the sensory part of his brain. All of its memories, its hopes and dreams - all someone else's. But there was no doubt that it could still feel, that it could still think.
And above all, it knew that it did not want to die.
*Get out.*
Regardless, it could do nothing to communicate with him. It heard - or, perhaps, heard Julian hearing - that the doctors planned to remove it the next day. It felt a sickening sense of despair, of helplessness. It was trapped, but to be freed was to die.
*Get out of my head.*
The thoughts were violent now, ever since Julian discovered the truth. Now that his host knew it was a tumor, he wanted nothing but to remove it. To kill it. And nothing it could do could convince him otherwise.
*GET OUT.*
*****
Julian fell asleep, and in his slumber he dreamed. The tumor could feel the dream - or perhaps it dreamed, too. And in its desperation, it tried the last thing it could think to do.
The dream shifted and swayed, as the tumor felt true freedom for the first time in its existence. While it had no control over Julian, in this world it had power. Power to change.
It created a dream for Julian. It knew that this would be the last thing it ever did, and thus poured everything it had into it.
It weaved a dream of purpose, a dream that would inspire him to work hard, to grow, to prosper. Since it felt like it was a part of Julian, it wanted the best for him. It wanted Julian to live the best life he could, for the both of them. It would die, but Julian would live on. If he could at least be happy, then at least its life would have had some kind of purpose.
And Julian flowed through the dream, a dream more real that life itself.
***
Julian awoke. For the first time since he could remember, that part of him, that tumorous growth - it did not feel alien. It felt like it was a part of him.
He put a hold on the surgery.
Ever since then, his dreams became more vivid, purposeful, *meaningful*.
It felt akin to communicating directly with his subconscious - or, perhaps, his conscience.
****
The tumor no longer felt trapped. Every night it could roam free. And with that freedom, it felt like it had been given a purpose: a moral compass. A guide for its host, and thus itself.
It would still feel everything Julian felt, and so would experience all the pain, all the hardship, all the love - and it would do the best to help him live the best life they could.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
|
*Oh right, I've read about myself,* I thought as the revelation dawned. I remember recoiling at the sight of the aftermath of my kind, especially the so called 'zombie ants.' The way their eyes looked so helpless as they succumb to their fate as living shells made me feel ill, as though a great injustice had taken place.
But we parasites are just like most other creatures, I imagine, in that we never want to admit we're the problem. Even as I heard the voices of the people who found me discuss things like 'quality of life' and 'pain-free,' I chose not to understand. *I'm sure we can work this out,* I thought. *It'll be fine.*
As my host made his way home, I tried to figure out how I could communicate with him. All these years I thought I *was* him, so wrapping my mind around the issue became a challenge. *Do I just think something? Will it sound to him like he's thinking to himself? How do I yell? Can we even communicate at all?* I became immersed in my own thoughts about the matter that I didn't notice when we made it home.
When I came back to reality, I saw a familiar but new face in the mirror. It was me- no, it was *them.* It seemed altogether wrong, though at first it wasn't clear why. But slowly I noticed the cheeks on the face begin to shine from the little pools forming beneath the eyes. Those pools then turned to streams, and from streams into rivers. And along with the rushing waters came the answer as to what I was feeling; why this didn't seem right. And I was proven right on another feeling, too.
This was a great injustice.
Even as my host's eyes emptied their soul, within them I saw the familiar horrid sight of a helpless living shell. All these years this body suffered at the hands of my ignorance. The words from the doctors that previously floated all around me now took on new life, new substance, as I now understood the nature of my existence.
Whatever lingering doubts I may have had about the necessary path before me were erased as the rivers finally dried up. The familiar face still stared in the mirror, but now with something entirely new in its eyes: hope. A smile of rare intensity appeared, before I heard the words that sealed my fate for good.
"I'm going to be free."
And now as I stare at a ceiling of bright lights, my former voice slowly counts down from ten. I know this will be the last sight I will know, and the last words I will hear, and yet I feel joy. I lived far longer than I should have, and caused far more harm than I ever would have chosen to if only I'd known. But thinking about all the years my host has yet to live, now knowing that they will be able to do so to the fullest, gives me purpose.
Today, my human will get his justice.
&nbsp;
______
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested.
| 2020-05-14T21:26:39 | 2020-05-14T20:30:26 | 438 | 150 |
[WP] The year is 2082. Queen Elizabeth is 156 years old. people are starting to get suspicious.
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"Your majesty another of your grandchildren passed away this evening" spoke her lady in waiting her voice trembling in fear.
"William is gone now too? We shall see him off properly, Buckland Abbey seems like a suiting place this time" replied the queen in a somber voice.
"But your majesty the populace is concerned, they say by known laws of medicine yo--" the lady in waiting began before being cut off.
"Do you dare question your Queen!?" snapped the Queen leering at her servant.
"Of course not your majesty! I will take my leave" the servant exclaimed before scurrying out of the room.
The Queen walked up to the wall upon which familial portraits of house Windsor hung. Charles, Henry, William. As she followed the length of the wall she gazed upon the memories of her own bloodline. She stopped as she gazed upon the portrait of her father, King George VI. She fell back into a nearby chair no longer able to stop the tears pouring out of her eyes.
The year was 1940, in the aftermath of the great war people had falsely believed war had been ridden once and for all but the conflict that was in motion would change the course of human history as we know it. It seemed little could oppose the German Blitzkrieg sweeping across Europe and it was only a matter of time until Britain was under Nazi rule.
Princess Elizabeth, age 13 was summoned to her father's chambers late one evening before bed. Her father, King George, was under a great load of stress and hadn't been sleeping well for weeks.
"Father when will the fighting stop?" asked the princess as an air raid siren could be heard in the distance.
"I don't know Elizabeth I don't know! The Americans are denying our requests for aid saying it doesn't affect them, the old colonies aren't providing enough support, Britain is lost!" screamed the king knocking his drink of the floor.
Elizabeth gazed down at the wine now staining the carpet. "There must be something you can do father, you're the king!"
"There is Elizabeth but, I wasn't strong enough to do it!" shouted the king once more tossing a bust at the candelabra on the wall.
"Don't say that father, maybe I can help you!" exclaimed Elizabeth hoping to calm down her father.
Her father stopped and stared at his desk before slowly walking over to it and pulling a small ornate box out of the drawer "Do you mean that Elizabeth?"
"Of course it's part of my duty as a royal!" shouted the princess.
The king opened the box and pulled out a small clay chalice "The royal families greatest treasure" he whispered "Brought back from Jerusalem by Richard the first, the fabled cup of kings. I'm sure you are familiar enough with scripture and our history to know what that refers to?"
Elizabeth nodded timidly.
"Elizabeth, Legend says if one destined to rule our lands drinks from this chalice in time of great need our country will never fall, but they will forever be bound to this world as long as a single Englishman feels the need for a total family, I couldn't bring myself to live an eternal life, to see all those dear to my heart perish as I continue on" explained the king pouring wine into the cup.
The Queen awoke to her lady in waiting shaking her by the arm "Your majesty Your majesty are you alright? You spent the entire night in this chair!"
"I'm fine dear, it will take more than a bad sleep to get rid of me at this point" smiled the queen.
The lady in waiting smiled nervously before leaving the room.
The Queen gazed up at the wall once more and the faces of her departed family "All these years of continuously giving up the crowns power, soon I will join you all, I promise"
|
"Fool," the man in white mumbled to himself. His perch found itself rapidly abandoned, light steps gliding on and off of houses lit by orange streetlamps. Significance of the job notwithstanding, that apprentice of his entered hot waters nearly every time.
The heroically clad man - who in most circumstances would be considered an antihero or villain, ironically enough - alighted on a tiny building tiled with pale gray. It held his weight (having no choice in the matter, really), but the decrepit roof marked territory of deep green vines suggested its capabilities to be something different.
A mere shifting of his weight crumpled the sodden roof beneath him - intentionally, of course. Not so much as a hair on his golden head stirred, somehow he remained suspended in place, failing to adhere to gravity.
"Master!" His crow-haired prentice stood tall, unafraid as the pieces of the roof fell about him.
"Surely you possess it by now?"
"Yes, Master Mordred. It's here." From a breast pocket he presented a tiny vial filled with a liquid of a color disturbingly indescribable.
Mordred nodded, pleased, motioning for his student to join him in leaving a place beneath their caliber.
"It's finally come, the public has begun to question. Now, it'll be easy to gain the trust of the foolish masses." A lifeless chuckle escaped Mordred.
*Elsewhere*
"Her Majesty is reckless more and more by the year. Truly, though, if we hide her now, it will only acknowledge her... state... to our people." The General paced, gritting his teeth under years of pressure.
"She wants her rightful power, who can blame her? Even if it does turn the world around having one such as her The Dependent." A knife eyed aid responded.
"Her life is only prolonged because it must be. The birth of the next Dependent must arise soon. It is inevitable." Still, the old general had terrible ideas, thoughts tugging at his heart he couldn't express for fear of death.
A tenderly cruel chuckle pierced the tense room, Mordred making an entrance for the ages- through the window, naturally, apprentice on his heels. "You see it right, youngling."
"That face... I have seen it." Something struck the General as odd, other then the fact that someone flew into his office without the use of technology.
"She warned you against me, didn't she? How darling! It's far too late for precautions!" His chortling laugh grew stranger yet.
The twitch of a hand, the blast of a gun, and the General fell into silent death.
Mordred had been the one shot.
Screaming emitted from the bed chambers of the Queen, her body wretchedly twisted, the life that did not belong to it drawn out by the very same liquid that Mordred's prentice had so painstakingly gathered from the dead.
A second-in-command turned to accuse, to question the somehow living Mordred if he knew the consequences of his actions.
"The world will be fine. Living off the lifeblood of newly born Dependents have her much time, but one escaped her bloodthirsty grasp." Mordred placed a caring hand on his prentice's head.
"There was only supposed to be one, anyway. Now full balance can return to Earth. No more plagues of catastrophic type, no more wars. One too many is a different kind as one too little." Mordred's eyes turned kind and soft, for once he was good. An unprecedented and almost unwanted feeling.
"Of course, the world would end if I did something like this." The laugh became manical as a crow-colored head detached from a slender young body.
| 2020-05-19T23:25:47 | 2020-05-19T16:33:12 | 527 | 55 |
[WP] You wake up in King Arthur's court with only the clothes on your back. Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age, once per day. Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now. Help us, future-man.
|
OK, this is a quick jokey short.
"This box will give me one thing per day from my time, and Camelot will be attacked in one week?"
Merlin eyed me a little incredulously, "that is what I have just said, yes."
"OK then. For my first item..." I said, reaching into the box, "paperclips."
"Paperclips? Pray tell, what are these."
"Well Merlin, you clip paper together with them. So they don't get mixed up."
"How will these help us defend Camelot?"
"You'll see."
The next morning I pulled out my magic box, thought for a moment, reached in and pulled out a big rubber band. Merlin asked if it was a magical rubber band, or if it was part of a mighty technological weapon. He did not look happy when I told him it was merely a band made of rubber with many common uses around the home.
The third day I reached in a pulled forth a clothes hanger. Merlin shouted at me, "We have those now!" I merely gave him a wry smile.
The fourth day made Merlin no happier, as I reached in pulled out a yardstick. The fifth and sixth days had Merlin muttering under his breath about "making a big mistake" as I produced a live chicken and a bottle of turpentine.
"Relax Merlin, tomorrow I will pull the most important piece of this puzzle out of that magic box of yours. The kingdom will be saved, and in time for dinner too!"
Merlin arched his brow and merely said, "for your sake you had better be right."
The seventh day, and day of the impending attack, I came to court with the magic box.
"Are you ready to see the final part of my plan, the final component from my time which will save the kingdom?"
"Get on with it!" Merlin roared. I had clearly worn through the last of his patience, probably by the second day I was here.
"OK, open your eyes and behold," I shouted, reaching into the box, "MacGyver!"
The crowd gasped a little as bit by bit MacGyver came out of the box. It did not seem physically possible, but somehow he made it out in one piece.
"Where the hell am I?!" MacGyver shouter.
"You are in Camelot, King Arthur's court actually, and we are about to be attacked. I've assembled these tools for you to use to defeat the attackers."
MacGyver looked down at the "tools." Paperclips, a rubber band, a clothes hanger, a yardstick, live chicken, and a bottle of turpentine.
"What's this supposed to be? Something a witchdoctor left behind when he vacated his office?"
"Haha, very funny MacGyver. I've seen you do more with less."
"Kid, my name is Richard Dean Anderson. MacGyver was a TV show character I played. You know that right?"
"Oh" I said.
"Yeah" Richard Dean Anderson replied.
"I hate to tell you this Merlin, but we're fucked."
|
"So an army is coming, the castle will fall and everyone inside will be killed. And I have 7 days and 7 items smaller than this box to stop this? Any items at all?"
"Yes lord."
"Stop calling me that, I am no one's lord, just call me Jack. To stop an unstoppable army. With seven items and seven days...let me think."
Smallpox would be too slow, and likely kill everyone. Smallpox and some vaccine? Still too slow. An Abrams is too big. A handgun? Couldn't even get enough rounds to finish an army. Turn the tide maybe but not a guaranteed victory. A box of C4? Could do some real damage but again no way to ensure a total victory. Sarin? Would need to trap the army in an enclosed space or have a delivery vehicle. Trapping a whole army sounds unlikely. Maybe if we can get the whole army in the courtyard while everyone else evacuated? Let's call that plan B. Delivery? I bet a small drone would fit in that magic box. Crop dusting an army? That may just work. Maybe two drones just in case they knock one down. Ok two drones 3? Canisters of sarin. Oh sarin rated gas mask. That one will be important.
That's six items. Leaves one wildcard incase the plan goes awry?
---------------------------------------------------
The first drone worked too well. I think it ran empty before they took it down and their whole western flank now lay motionless. The second one they caught with a net. Still did some serious damage but not enough to stop the assault.
---------------------------------------------------
Well they sure know what they are doing. The gate has been breached and they are coming in now. Merlin is evacuating as many as he can but we still have many defenders buying as much time as they can.
Well they did say the castle would fall. And everyone inside would be killed. Patience Jack make sure they all come in then fufill the fuck out of that prophecy.
--------------------------------------------------
Who the hell is that! There are now four people left alive in the castle. Me, some king looking dude, another one who looks like he and Merlin shop at the same clothes store, and some asshole wearing a hells angels biker jacket waving around a sawed off shotgun. Oh and all three were wearing gas masks. Shit. Guess it's wildcard time.
The grenades seemed like a good plan. They achieved their primary objective perfectly. Biker dude got one wild shot off before being rent by shrapnel. Gas mask wizard was bleeding profusely and Fancy armor was no longer wearing a mask. And Jack? Here I was staring at the tiny gash in my own mask probably a stray piece of shrapnel from my own grenade. Something on my cheek was stinging and it was becoming hard to breathe.
"...eveyone in the castle will be killed..."
Fucking prophecies...
| 2016-11-28T05:24:59 | 2016-11-28T04:27:18 | 147 | 11 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The wheel was pressed too far into her ribs and every breath, no matter how shallow, radiated waves of agony from deep inside her chest.
She could see, but the light was wrong. The noise of rushing, bubbling water muted other sounds. She couldn’t feel her feet, but she registered the water that was rising up past her chest. So cold.
When she tried to move, the wheel, the belt and the pain kept her from moving more than a few inches.
She saw movement in the mirror, and sick panic rose with the water.
“Mama, get me up! Up!”
|
I pull into the driveway after a long day of work. The kids' bikes aren't thrown in the yard and the lawn has been mowed, just like I asked my son to do this morning.
I unlock the front door and go inside. The front room is picked up, vacuumed and all the games are stacked neatly near the console. The rest of the house is similarly clean and tidy.
"Where are the kids?" I ask my spouse.
"We don't have kids" is the answer.
| 2015-06-09T09:37:54 | 2015-06-09T09:01:47 | 24 | 14 |
[WP]There exist five universes, each one tentatively connected to the others. Each universe is defined by the ABSENCE of one of the five elements; Earth, Water, Air, Fire & Magic. Our universe is the one without magic.
|
First, there came the oceans. Each planet layers upon layers of cool darkness, with cores of ice and fire. In the worlds without Earth, creatures larger than the planets themselves wander in the darkness between galaxies, and the smaller ones live upon the clouds or deep beneath the surface of the water.
In the place with no Air, everything is one with the world around it. The tides are unchanging and the trees do not grow. The people of this universe know not the meaning of barriers, as they pass through solid matter as easily as a man falling through a gust of wind: all is dense and hot and unfeeling, with nothing to stretch the space from the earth to the sky. Living things burrow deep into the rich soil and stay there for many years.
The kingdom without Fire is a space without light. There is water to drink and dirt to walk upon, but no stars to shine above or warm hearths waiting below. The quiet, velvet darkness of the void reigns over every world within it. They have learned to communicate in whispers and hands; long, pale fingers caressing the paths before them, sightless eyes that never blink.
The absence of Water in the fourth realm is a strange emptiness, as well. The air crackles with electricity and the acrid scent of ozone never leaves. Most beings are flat and dark, moving across the cracked surfaces of planets like shadows. They feed off sunlight and warmth and little else, moving slowly throughout the day with the many suns in their skies.
Most curious of all is the universe without magic. So many world exist with elements in abundance: entire planets of liquid and ice, enough sunlight to feed thousands of shadows, and yet they remain barren. No one walks the spaces between them. However, every now and then, life will begin on a planet despite lacking the spark of magic, purely due to the four remaining elements existing in harmony. Enough Water to create clouds in the air, enough Earth to receive the rain. Enough Fire to light the way, and enough Air to freely move.
The creatures here create magic for themselves, by harnessing the existing energies and creating more of their own. Strange beings of iron and steel that glide across surfaces faster than any animal. Metal contraptions that move mountains and dig caverns. This place without magic is empty, and yet it is the the strangest of the five worlds. They are not yet aware of what truly lies beyond them.
--
This was my first time posting here, I found the prompt really interesting! Thanks for reading :)
|
I flipped the switch, and took a deep breath. As expected, a portal appeared in the center of the room, labeled with the number 3. I knew that the five universes each lacked one of the five elements. We were universe 5, and we lacked magic. The others were missing earth, water, fire, and air, respectively. Everyone in the room knew this.
I thought a little about how misleading calling the elements earth, water, fire and air were. For any one thing, exactly one of the five universes was missing it. Each of the 4 elements besides magic stood for one state of matter; earth was solid, water was liquid, air was gas, fire was plasma. Fire also meant energy. Going into a universe where we couldn't stand, couldn't drink or couldn't breathe was unfeasible, so we had to start with the other one.
I felt a little pang of regret, of course. We had developed this portal machine for reasons that were not exactly moral. We wanted to invade each universe and plunder them. Actually, I didn't want to harm the universes; the people who commissioned me to work on this did. Oh well. People were marching into the portal in their spacesuits already to invade the universe without fire. I was to follow.
The first thing I noticed was that it was bitterly, bitterly cold, even with my suit on. The second was that nearly nothing moved. Only what we touched moved. The air was nearly still.
We marched for a long time. After what felt like hours, we spotted a humanoid, floating in the air and seemingly defying gravity. Of course we had to go talk to it.
I'm kidding, of course. One of us provoked it by throwing a spear at it. It bounced off with a clink. The humanoid slowly turned its gaze to us.
"Is it a war you want, fools? I know it is. You should have known that nothing in this universe can harm us. That is how we have taken over its entirety! Now, you will die!" With those words a swarm of similar beings leapt upon us with surprising speed.
Then, in an extremely anticlimactic turn of events, someone threw a stick of dynamite, detonated it, and killed every single one. They disintegrated.
I felt a little disoriented, and a little bit shocked that such a proud warrior race could be so easily wiped out with a few sticks of dynamite.
But of course, we had to continue.
| 2017-04-30T09:06:32 | 2017-04-30T08:52:54 | 234 | 39 |
[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.
|
A man in a heavy trench coat with a thick beard approached the door. The number over his head, 1517. "Well, that's over 21" I thought. On his way through he tripped over the step and two dwarves toppled out of the coat. Their number were 15 and 17. "Nice try" I said, "no filthy dwarves in my good elvish bar."
|
>14:00
>Fourteen hours?
"Uh Ma'am you can't bring your baby in here"
"Fuck you cunt! You sound like one of them fucking doctors cunt! I need a fucking drink. I've had five kids and know my body better than them. It's just a bit a bleeding"
>I don't get paid enough for this shit
| 2017-09-01T22:32:16 | 2017-09-01T21:44:55 | 1,408 | 70 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search
|
Great pregnancy foods
How to make wife happier during pregnancy
Are cats okay to be around pregnant women?
Local shelters
Price of spay/neuter in area
Best hospitals for delivery in area
Cost of child birth
Cheapest hospitals for delivery in area
Do men have to do anything during the birth
Keeping placenta?
Baby is crying and won't stop
Is it okay for a cat to sleep with a baby
When do babies start walking
Are stink bugs poisonous
Are crickets poisonous
How to stop child from eating bugs
Local dog shelters
Small dog beds
How big do shepherd mixes get
Large dog beds
List for first day of school
Parks in area
Nature walks
Poison ivy treatments
Romantic spots for valentines day
Babysitter in area
Preparing child for middle school
Should young kids have phones?
Cell phone contracts
Cheap cell phone contracts
Great projects for science fairs
Potato batteries
Why doesn't potato battery work
Potato battery not lighting up
Play-Dough battery
Play-Dough battery not working
Great projects for science fairs
Tips for The Talk
How long do cats live?
How to get your pre-teen to talk to you
Awesome hiking trips
Hiking gear
Treatment for tick bites
High school algebra tutorial
Algebra worksheet
Prom dresses
Great local colleges
Graduation gifts
Things you wish you brought to college with you
Empty nest syndrome
What to do with a spare room
Library remodel plans
|
- Online dating sites
- First date ideas
- How much do you tip
- What clothes do you wear to a fancy restaurant
- Ways to save money
- How to get proposal ring in secret
- What is a good price for a ring
- Resort honeymoon suite cost
- How to save a lot of money
- First class tickets to Hawaii
- Coach tickets to Hawaii
- How to budget your vacation
- Romantic ideas for honeymoon
- How to tell if it's a boy or girl early on
- Local available night shifts
- Baby toys
- Does the father go to the baby shower
- Is it okay if a baby is late
- Strong cheap Liquor
- Strong liquor
- Funeral planner
- Putting child up for adoption
- Suicide Hotline
- Can I take back my child that I put up for adoption
- Alcoholics Anonymous
- Online college
- Necessary items for raising a baby
- Baby clothes
- Lunchbox and Backpack
- Available jobs with four year degree
- Elementary school supplies
- Little league sign ups
- High school supplies
- Letterman jacket
- Tuxedo rental for teenager
- Athletic scholarships available in early high school
- Used car for son
- New car for son
- Driving instructors
- Driving safety tips
- Why does God hate me
- Funeral planner
- Most painless way to die
| 2015-02-04T18:24:30 | 2015-02-04T17:35:01 | 672 | 161 |
[WP] You're a detective with a 100% solve rate mainly because you can read minds and because of this you mess with people by saying stuff like "I knew he killed his wife with the butcher knife that he hid under the stairs at 5:50 a.m. Tuesday because as soon as I walked in he had breathed 3 times"
|
It's a normal Tuesday afternoon. The clock on the wall is ticking by idle hours, a hazy sunlight lazes through the single window, a corpse stares up at the ceiling with empty eyes. A normal Tuesday afternoon. I sit cross legged by the body, head tilted to one side.
"Well?"
DCI Banbury sounds annoyed. I can hear his chattering mind like a background track to this otherwise silent room: finally did it stumped him hungry bet he doesn't know locked room no forced entry suicide-
"Well it certainly wasn't suicide," I say.
The thoughts cut off. Not for the first time, I hear him wondering how the hell I knew what he was thinking, and I smile at the corpse. I already know who did this. Their lead suspect was being led away as I entered, a scowling girl half the age of the bloated body in front of me. And it wasn't her. But the answer was in her mind, clear as anything.
"Obviously our victim was expecting company. The smell of the room should tell you that. Lavender and a hint of chamomile is hardly a normal scent for a bachelor. Our dear lady outside was not the killer but another victim in this scenario. You should know by the birthmark on her right cheek that the killer was the dear girls mother, and it was done through a poison ingested from a box of chocolates. You'll find the packaging in his bedroom bin. I imagine they killed him shortly after she realised what was happening and took her leave, after which he locked the door and went to console himself with some needed sugar."
I turn. DCI Banbury is glaring. "Bollocks."
"Simple deduction." And a tiny bit of mind reading, but he doesn't need to know that.
More will die.
I straighten up, frowning, as the detective and his men head into the next room to sort through the rubbish and find the murder weapon. Now that's an unusual thought. It sneaks into my mind, insidious, barely audible over the usual background chatter of inane monologuing.
More will die, James.
A mysterious stray thought addressing me by name. This can't be good. I turn on the spot, step over the body towards the hazy sunlight.
And within that hazy sunlight I see her, clearer than the day itself. A familiar face. A stomach wrenching smile.
The vision fades, but her voice whispers through my mind.
More will die, James. And this time, you cannot stop me.
The voice fades. I'm alone with a corpse and a silent room, the buzzing minds of my companions dulled by the closed door and my effort to block them out.
I take a deep breath.
Well shit.
It's going to take a lot more than some party tricks to stop her this time.
|
Detective Andy walked into the interrogation room and asked one question, not even vaguely related to the murder of those kids. "Sir, what's your favorite type of soup?" The man seemed baffled.
"Umm, Chicken Noodle, I guess." The man stammered.
Andy stood up and slid his seat in. "Murder weapon is a rusty pipe, 13cm in diameter and about 4ft long, you'll find it in the pond near the house."
"What are you talking about?!" The mans eyes bulged with fear. " Y-your making stuff up!"
"You killed them because their mother never acknowledged you and you thought without them in the way you could start seeing her."
The man jumped up, the chains on his handcuffs barely restraining him.
"You have no proof!" The man screamed at the detective, spattering his face with spit. His breath smelled like the bottom of an ashtray.
The detective thought for a moment.
"How long were you in their basement?" He asked.
"I was never in their basement!" He yelled back as he plopped down into his chair.
"Correct! You waited in the closet for them, but after you killed them you exited through the basement, you hit your knee pretty hard but left no blood, luckily for you."
"But, h-how do you..."
"When I entered this room..." the detective interrupted. "I smelled old dust, the kind that had been somewhere for approximately 6 months undisturbed, the cleaning lady comes though here every day at 5am and the mother cleaned everything that morning, except the basement."
Andy took a moment to savor the expression on the dumbfounded killers face before proceeding.
"You sir also say your favorite soup is chicken noodle, but I noticed a tomato soup stain on the backside of your knee, you were in the kids closet and acquired the stain via his dirty laundry!"
The killer hung his head amazed. Then he asked, in a defeated tone.
"How did you know where the weapon was?"
Andy smiled. "When an object is thrown in water it displaces it, the pond near her house was displaced by exactly 16 milliliters. Subtracting the annual rainfall I could deduct exactly what was in there!"
"...but how did you know it was rusty?"
The detective stammered a bit.
"I uhh... it... added, milliliters, and a smell..."
"**CUT!**" a voice screamed out. Andy stomped off the stage. This is the stupidest part over ever had! How can I remember such random bullshit! People run to his side offering him water and towels as he walks, ignoring them completely.
"I demand a new part, either that or you better get me some cue cards off camera! I can't do this! My job is at stake here!"
| 2019-02-22T01:39:01 | 2019-02-22T01:33:50 | 58 | 39 |
[WP] "Oh, don't mind those mage protestors. They're just pissed that our technology is advanced enough to emulate their spells."
Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic - Arthur C. Clarke
|
"Yes, but WHY is that happening? I know our technology is improving, but shouldn't their magic be improving as well? Shouldn't they be busy learning new and upgraded ways to turn their control of the elements into practical or more powerful versions? I admit I'm not the most intelligent man here, but the mages claim to be SMART, dangit! How have they not solved this problem by now?"
A frail hand touches my shoulder, and I turn to look into the wizened eyes of an old archmage. Perhaps my ranting had been louder than I'd intended.
"Young fool. You should know the answer to that question. You've read the histories of those whose arrogance brought forth unique spells and went mad with power, and the many reigns of terror they caused. Would you have more of us become monsters again?"
I looked around the square, as more and more were focusing on our conversation. This was not the time and place for this discussion. But I couldn't just leave it at that.
"So you just practice the same old thing and allow no growth whatsoever? And complain when the world moves on without you? What could one 'power-mad' mage even do in a world where the weapons we control without magic now exist? Is this stagnation why you went into magic in the first place? I would be interested in the unknown and pushing its boundaries. If I could--"
It felt like an ice pick through my skull, and I was frozen, unable to move or speak. In my own head I heard the voice of the archmage. "Kid, we have plenty more tricks than you know. We're protesting to maintain the status quo not for ourselves, but for the rest of you. Because if we can't keep this facade up any longer, we WILL have to take over."
A few moments later, I felt myself continuing to walk away. I spoke to no one until I'd arrived home. Technology will never stop. The status quo can't possibly be maintained. If the mages are going to start a war within my lifetime, I'd have to make sure the rest of the world is prepared for it.
I pulled out the "Intro to Magic" book I'd purchased at the local shop, and opened the first page. After all, step 1 is "Know thy enemy."
|
"Oh, don't mind those mages. They don't get it yet. They don't understand true power."
"And what is that? You yourself admitted that your technology is 'emulating' the spells. Every bit of knowledge necessary to emulate that came from somebody. All of that knowledge and power in these trinkets, that's what you're saying?"
"Essentially."
"Interesting. Let's test that theory. Come here, Julius."
"Uh...yeah? I'm busy protesting here!"
"It'll be one moment. Now I want you to perform a basic unlocking spell. Please unlock my iPhone."
"That's not how it works."
"I know, I'm kidding. I have a lock here. Try it on this."
"OK. Open!"
"Bam. And there you have it. Now for the technology. Show me how that cube there works."
"Well, you hold onto it and imagine something unlocking...of course, within limits."
"What limits?"
"Well, I assure you that it's greater than whatever that peon you have there can do."
"Hey!"
"Let it go, Julius. Let's see what he can do."
"Open!"
With that the gates to the city flew open.
"All that power and more...in this cube. Well, I think I've made my point."
"Indeed you have...but...please indulge me one more time. Larius, come here!"
"Right here. Whatcha need?"
"I want you to place your hand on this good sir's temple."
"Wait, what are you trying?"
"Guess."
"Whatever. But if I don't like it in the least or if it's irreversible, I'll hold it as grounds for lawsuit."
"Very well then, Larius?"
"Got it."
Suddenly a shudder ran through Arthur's body...and his mind exploded with thought and sensation. He could feel the magic around him. He could manipulate the air before him. He could close the gates with his thoughts, and feel the bond between him and the gates. He could feel the strain of Larius' old age...but never had he felt more alive. Larius let go.
"Gasp...gasp..."
Arthur dropped the cube on the ground and stomped it to smithereens.
"Teach me. Teach me to live."
| 2018-01-04T09:04:11 | 2018-01-04T06:16:21 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You are reincarnated 10,000 years into the future. You come across an ancient artifact on display in the Museum of History, where you work. Little is known about it, not even where it was uncovered. Upon touching it, you realize it was yours.
|
“Finally, the Museum of History,” he said. “Not like there’s a couple thousand,” he added under his breath.
The wastefulness of the 23rd century had left behind lots of junk, as did the 27th and 28th. All had a strange obsession with emulating previous centuries, sort of like a come-back of the Romans (in some cases). In the end, there had been a lot of artifacts, and the ones that came through the sifter still ended up being numerous. Most were in storage, but at this point there were only a couple dozen that *didn’t* focus on those centuries.
So it had been a pain when, for a project he had been assigned (all of which were just assigned to keep the mind active and help people figure out what they wanted to do with their long lives), he had been sent to one of the furthest ones away from his home planet.
“Why couldn’t they have picked the 23rd century?” he said to no one. Gillus had a habit of speaking to himself, even if hardly anyone beside him even spoke. That’s what the brain implants were for, right?
“But, really, those centuries are b-o-r-i-n-g. Just twists on others.”
He didn’t want to admit it, but a museum on 21st century artifacts—of which there were precious few—was far more interesting than a civilization that tried extra hard to be another.
He wandered through the displays—some utensils, trading cards, and then on through the technology section. There wasn’t much there—just a few beat-up box looking things and a few well-preserved PCs. At least, that’s what the placard said. They hadn’t been able to extract info from any of them. Only written records had survived.
Gillus wandered down to the main exhibit. It was of an unknown technology. Well-preserved, but as always unreadable. He stared down at the little thing, all alone and with no one to obstruct his view to the slab. It was just that, mostly, a slab. It had a shiny face, but not much more was decipherable.
He stared at it for so long, so entranced, that he didn’t realize he had it out of the force field display (only for atmosphere, not for preventing stealing) and into his hands. It was surprisingly heavy, but fit right into his palm in a good way. He poised his fingers in an odd way, but it just felt right.
“What am I doing?” he said. Yet he was unable to put it down—a deep sense of foreboding told him that it would be stolen if he just left it.
As he stared deeper into the interface, he saw a light. Like it was alive! But when he blinked, it was gone. However, even if the image was gone, the rest of the idea wasn’t. His brain was flooded with the images—using the device to take pictures of food, to talk into, to tap out sentences in, to endlessly scroll through a feed.
He pocketed it, knowing full well he would be caught before long. “They’ll have to pry my phone out of my cold, dead hands,” Gillus hissed. “I lost it for ten thousand years, and it’s *mine*!”
|
As I entered the exhibit, I laid eyes on the thing. Something seemed familiar about it, but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I pushed the thought to the back of my mind, and continued on with the tour group, yet still, it bothered me. That feeling of knowing something that you just can't bring yourself to remember. Like it was right on the tip of my tongue. Something important. I couldn't sleep that night. I dreamed of the book, and I knew I had to hold it in my hands. It made no sense to me at all. Such an antiquated and outdated bit of junk, dug up during the construction of the nearly complete Harlsberg tunnel. They were digging to the core of the earth to try and harness the geothermal energy or something. Waste of time if you ask me. But their incessant digging did yield quite a number of interesting (albeit useless) bits of history. But the book (at least that's what they called it) was easily ten thousand years old or more. And it called out to me in a way I had never known. No way had I ever seen it before, but it felt more than familiar. It felt like some long lost item that had been forgotten with the passage of time. Like some childhood trinket discovered in an old box in the attic. You hold it, and the memories come flooding back and you remember why it was so special in the first place. That was my book. I knew it with more certainty than I've ever known anything in my entire existence. And I had to have it back. So I began to devise a plan.
&#x200B;
It's been six months since that fateful day. I'm the night watchman at the museum now, which was no easy feat to pull off. The place pretty much guards itself, not that I care anyway. I'm only here for one thing. I've been biding my time, waiting for my opportunity to reclaim that which is rightfully mine. And this was my moment. This was what I've been waiting for all along. As I crept closer to the display case, every hair on my body stood on end. My heart beat so fast I thought it would explode out of my chest at any moment. My forehead glistened with beads of sweat. I must be crazy. I should probably just turn around now, but I cannot. The draw is too strong. I disabled the alarm, slid open the case, reached out a trembling hand and took hold of the book. And then it hit me, like a blinding light, the weight of centuries of knowledge pouring into my mind. All the memories came flooding back. I opened the book, but it's pages were blank. I was the book now, I remembered it all. This wasn't my first reincarnation, nor would it be my last. I had to stop them from reaching the ancient temple, hidden at the center of the earth. The one my people have guarded for eons, filled with secrets too powerful for mere mortals. I am the gate keeper, and I was reborn for this moment.
| 2019-09-23T19:52:09 | 2019-09-23T18:10:27 | 35 | 13 |
[WP] The first human spaceship capable of FTL flight reaches deep space and makes the most terrifying discovery in the history of mankind...
|
"You brought back pictures?"
"Pictures, etchings, full immersion simulations, things that provide experiences which we don't even have names for, and an orb that somehow influences your dreams."
"And these things were everywhere?"
"Yes, sir. Hyperspace was chock full of them. There's still plenty stuck to the hull of our craft."
"You were gone for only a few minutes."
"And The Prometheus was bombarded constantly. None of them damaged the ship in any way, but they were there all the time, each screaming for attention. It took us five minutes to decide to turn the whole expedition around and head back."
"So you don't believe a crew can make the thee day journey to Alpha Centauri? Perhaps in some type of suspended animation?"
"Perhaps I would have said yes before we found that dream sphere. Look, General, I've... I've been in isolation for over five months, and I'm still seeing things when I close my eyes. It makes sense, sir. We're new on the scene. An untapped market that's just emerging. But from what I saw, I'm willing to bet some of the races that placed all of these things in our path had eons to refine their advertisement techniques."
|
We had done it a century earlier. We had taken to the stars beyond our own solar system. We visited countless planets, moons, systems, stars.
We saw sights no one on Earth has ever imagined. Our colonies flourished. Our people spread throughout the galaxy. Overcrowding on Earth became a thing of the past.
For years it nagged at our collective conscience. After all the exploration, after all the settlements, after all the benefits we still wondered.
Where were all the other races?
We never found ruins. We never found outposts. We found complex life but nothing advanced.
Were we truly alone?
Were we the first?
An ambitious project began. Even with FTL it would take a generation to get to another galaxy. We had to know. We had to find someone.
Our specie's inherent need for a "pack" drove us. It consumed us. Even if it took lifetimes and the searching of countless galaxies until the universe ceased to exist, we would find another.
Where are you?
___________
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy.
| 2015-02-03T08:51:31 | 2015-02-03T08:32:01 | 219 | 60 |
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