prompt
stringlengths 20
5.8k
| chosen_story
stringlengths 226
10k
| rejected_story
stringlengths 227
9.43k
| chosen_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55
2022-12-31 14:34:19
| rejected_timestamp
timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36
2022-12-31 12:20:41
| chosen_upvotes
int64 14
23.1k
| rejected_upvotes
int64 10
4.26k
|
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] In the distant future, an alien scientist has almost fully deciphered the messages found on the Voyager Spacecraft. With growing horror, the scientist realizes the crafts home system, and begins to pray.
|
Gzrn'llrp couldn't believe it. Three whole yarngs had passed with virtually no progress, and even after the initial results came back it took three MORE yarngs just to verify the information. There was simply no possible way the analysis was incorrect - the device was of Annihilator origin. The doctor's long, wiry grantui protrusions shuddered violently at the terrifying revelation, sending a low-pitched buzz reverberating through the lab. Surely nobody else must be aware of this crude machine's existence or the entire quadrant would have been sterilized by now.
The mere idea that the Annihilators could have the will to escape their quarantine - that the universe's most viscous and malignant presence STILL posed a threat - nearly drove Gzrn'llrp to madness. Here was proof that even the collaboration of millions of sentient species was unable to halt the aliens' onslaught. The Annihilators existed alone, surrounded on all sides by the most hostile, empty, and vast vacuum which could be engineered. One that even appeared to grow and spread with increasing speed. Nevertheless the desire to spread their sinister dominion remained undaunted and demonstrated perfectly their insatiable appetite for conquest.
Gzrn'llrp's mind began to carefully turn over in an attempt to decide the next course of action. Surely countless trillions of beings in the surrounding area would be vaporized immediately if this artifact's existence were revealed. And given the age of the thing there could very easily be an untold number of Annihilator ships and planets out there at this point; they had been exiled to their fate since they began using lumps of minerals to destroy one another. And now *this* device shows up.
[... and here's where I got bored writing]
|
A few disclaimers, this is my first response to a post and I am writing on mobile so sorry if the editing is weird.
I had grown used to the silence of the universe. I spent my time hiding from my civilization, traveling from galaxy to galaxy in a never ending patrol. During the war, my people called me a hero, an unstoppable force of justice, but they forgot their adoration quickly
They saw the reports of carnage and destruction. Yet all the people cared for was blood, and I skillfully gave them what they wanted. When we destroyed the last outpost of corruption, the people of my nation celebrated.
Slowly their adoration turned to distrust and paranoia. News circulated that I showed no mercy, and that I ignored calls for surrender.
Videos began surfacing of my tactics during the war. The people once again wanted blood, this time it was my own.
They did not realize that I did what I did to protect them. All I cared about was their safety. I knew to save them I would have to decimate the corruption.
I am their savior and purifier. I would do anything to protect them, and I have. To protect them I had to leave them.
I travelled the galaxy, ever vigilant, determined to protect my people should the need arise. I an age in search of a danger that did not seem to be there.
The danger arrived in a quiet way. A small ship drifted into the corner of my scanners. I hailed it in all frequencies of my people with no response.
After my many years of patrolling I found more corruption in the universe.
| 2014-11-09T01:15:11 | 2014-11-09T00:24:27 | 55 | 13 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :)
|
“GO GREEN!!” My neighbor screeched at the field.
I leaned to my friend Raya, “Is this entirely necessary? We could be doing something more fun. Like literally anything. Anything is more fun than this.” I looked at the field disdainfully.
“Seriously Maize? This is like the one time your power is totally on point!” My glare hardened at her as I shifted back to normal. “Aw, come on Mai, we’re in the last quarter!”
Whispers fluttered all around me,
“Dude, did she just —“
“Holy shit did you see —“
“Dad that lady was GREEN —“.
I sighed and shifted my color back to the team’s forest green, “Yay football.” I muttered sarcastically, ignoring the next wave of whispers and stares that followed my change.
I’d long since gotten over my misfortune of power. Figures that an electromagnetic surge would hit the one time I was playing a kids game, granting me and several other thousand people the “gifts” of our game characters.
Do you know how wicked some of these people’s power’s were? Most of them were changing the weather to avoid natural disasters, telekinetically rescuing people from fires, leaping tall buildings in a single bound. . .you know, superhero shit.
Now in all fairness, I was hiding a secret. I hadn’t just been playing a kid’s game that auspicious Friday, I’d been modding and redeveloping it. Including my player.
In fact when the surge hit, I’d been typing code in specifically to mod my player. You’d think that’d left me with a glitch or two, but nope, it left me with an unfinished code and a blinking cursor.
When faced with the actual reality of becoming all-powerful, one tends to freeze up a little. Sure, I could code the crap out of myself and run this world from here until probably the end of time.....but was it ethical? Moral? And the question that bothered me most, what then?
I’d had a couple of months to have an existential crisis and hadn’t been able to get past what happens next. The other players had showed me what a little power could do to a person. On the news you heard the amazing stories of the “PC Heroes” and how our world needed something extraordinary to survive. The chat rooms told a different story.
Forums had popped up all over of PCs struggling with controlling their abilities, getting addicted, depressed, and some suicidal. After reading a post from a 15-year old my fantasies fell cold in their tracks, “I feel numb, like humming electric wire I have one purpose and it is my power. When I use it I lose myself and when I don’t I think of nothing else. I’ve lost my love, my pain, my anger. I’ve lost. I’m lost.” That was the last post she made. Two months ago.
But was it selfish to not do it? Was it worth losing myself if I could save the lives of others? The thought had me frozen in indecision for months.
“Mai,” my friend shook me, “Game’s over, let’s blow this popsicle stand.” She gestured towards the line shuffling towards the exit.
Everything started happening in slow motion as the ground began shaking, and a crack in the stadium opened up below Raya.
Screams rang out from every direction, but Raya’s sounded right in my ear as I reached out to grab her. “Raya!” I cried out, grasping her forearm in mine as she dropped into the hole.
“Don’t let go, don’t let go, Mai, please, I love you, don’t let go” Raya sobbed over and over, fingers digging into my arm. The ground still shook beneath me, crack deepening, I reached another hand down holding her tightly.
Tears streamed from my eyes as I struggled to hold her, I had to pull her up. “Help! Help! We need help!” I yelled looking around for anyone. There were others helping pull up victims who had fallen also, people still running for the exits screaming, chaos.
“I’ve got you! Hold on!” A man ran over to my left and laid a hand on my shoulder has he reached down to grab Raya. “Pull!” He yelled. I strained my burning muscles as far as they could go, we grunted as we pulled her backward, sliding out of the crack and falling back into the stadium seats.
“We’ve got to go,” I shouted grabbing Raya, still heaving on the ground.
The man nodded and stumbled with us through the crowd to the exit. The shaking had ceased but we still moved quickly to the main level, getting as far as possible from the near death Raya had nearly faced an the real death for many others.
As we reached the parking lot and the leave that awaiting I pulled away from Raya, already nearly jogging back towards the stadium. “Go home,” I said to her, “There’s something I need to do.”
I had some coding to do.
|
If you're reading this, then I have probably been gone for some time now. See, after the random power surge that started all this mess, I have been thinking. And I have been thinking hard. And I'm tired of all this.
The world has changed, and it has changed into something so grotesque, I hate it now. At first, it was pretty civil. There were people left and right, running around, trying out and testing their powers, seeing what they can do. I had some pretty good in-game experiences, and I just didn't want people to know I had powers, so I just hid in my room and watch it all play out. The news were full with interviews with all these people, how they got their powers, how it has changed their life and all that jizz. Now there were mages and elves and all kinds of wonderful wizards and witches. I'd even heard of a Witcher spotting in a rural part of Siberia. People had started to realise the potential of this thing and use it for their benefit.
Then things started getting a little out of hand. You would walk down the street and see some Fortniters building in the middle of the road and blocking the traffic. Some wizard accidently Stunned a passerby with their wand and the victim's family pressed charges on them. Soon there were incidents left and right; incidents of bank robberies, theft and murders. Fortunately for us, a group of superheros banded together and rounded the ones getting out of line.
Nowadays, things have gotten quiter. Sure, most of the bad guys have been put in jail by now, and the superheros patrol the streets. Everyone else seems happy about it. But I just can't help but wonder.
Why are the super heroes doing this for free?
I mean, one moment you had family, bills and mortgages to pay, stuffs to do and the next you just leave to patrol the streets for free? No one does anything for free.
I didn't want to; trust me I really didn't want to use my powers. But I had to. So I got out one fine weekend and decided to see what I can find. Of course, I used a disguise. And I must say, I wished I had gone out sooner.
Now, I do not know if you understand the full extent of my powers, so I'd just like to clear a few things out now. See when the surge happened, I was playing Minecraft in 2019 with multiple mods on. I know, some people would have disapproved but here I am. Anyway, I wanted to try out a new redstone contraption so I had just jumped into creative mode. I had most of my armour intact and enabled then and just as I was going to flip the lever, it happened. So now, I could have infinite materials, teleport or go through anything in Spectator mode.
So back to the present, I started by spying on the superheros. I went to their headquarters and saw the papers. Apparently they were hired by the government on contract. Basically, they could go anywhere and do anything they wanted to anyone without the government interfering at all. That's just anarchy. And everyone was celebrating it. Next, I found a paycheck from a government facility, so naturally I teleported there next. I do not wish to recall what I saw there, because to this day, I wish I could erase it from my mind. The government was experimenting on the prisoners and trying to figure out a way to replicate the effect and build a super army. The most horrifying part was, because of respawn enabled, most of the prisoners were probed to death only to be revived moments later and continued on.
I could not sleep that night. And with all this power at my fingertips, I felt helpless. This was one government facility in one country. Imagine what a powerful country with billions of dollars in military spending. I am but one man. What can I do?
I can't. There is nothing I can do really. Going against the government means going against the superheros too. Even if I win over them all, then what? Become a ruler? I don't know jackshit about politics let alone ruling the world. Form a government? Another government would rise and they would do the same. There is no point in doing anything at all. So I've decided.
I'll be moving to my underground bunker I've built under the basement of my house. I have built my food and resources farm and my own mine system. I'll be enjoying at my crafting station as I smell the sweet smell of iron smelting. I'll travel to the nether. I'll kill the Ender Dragon for the 100th time. I'll built the most glorious Minecraft bunker the world is never going to see. Maybe years from now, after most of the humans die to a nuclear attack, I'll rise in the ashes of the fallout. We'll see.
Edit: sorry for the bad English, it's my second language. I hope you enjoy.
| 2020-01-30T11:35:06 | 2019-08-11T22:16:33 | 1,281 | 209 |
[WP] You’re a child psychologist and, to your horror, you discover that your patients all have the same imaginary friend.
|
"Thanks doc, you've been a great listener. A real friend to all of us. But, I'm leaving now, and you know I'm the one that got the other kids to talk to you. I don't think they will after I'm gone." Benny said as we left my office. Well, the office I shared with Dr. Davis. Who was barely here at all and wasn't much of child psychologist when he was.
To be honest it was a source of irritation to me that both of our names were on the door. I shook my head ruefully as I shut the office door behind me. Every time I get to work and every time I leave, I think these disparaging thoughts about a colleague, one whose not that bad. Even a counselor can have have issues and as I tell my kids, you can't always change how you feel - but you can change how you act.
"You're right." I laughed. As I walked down the hall a bit with Benny.
"I know Dr. Davis gives my profession a bad reputation. But I think kids will still be stopping by. You're not the only one that needs someone to talk to and Dr. Davis isn't the only person willing to listen you know." I said as I playfully ruffled his hair. Benny was a great kid, but he kind of thought of himself as the leader of the tight knit group of kids he hung out with, and as happy as he was that he was being adopted. He was worried about the ragtag "found" family he was leaving behind.
"No, doc really I..." Benny stopped, obviously affected by the moment. Obviously having trouble saying goodbye.
"Benny, everything's going to be okay. Look down the hall, that couple waiting, that's your family now. We're all happy for you, and we'll all be fine. Okay? You're a big brother to a lot of these kids, but your just a kid yourself, now go be one okay?" I said this lightly, lightly, but, with honest emotion that I was having a little trouble concealing. I genuinely loved this kid. He'd been through a lot and I think one of the proudest accomplishments of my career was helping him open up, helping him heal and seeing him grow.
"Doc, your right. I know. Just, don't take it personally if things change when I'm gone." He said in a voice thick with emotion, then he reached out to shake my hand. I shook it formally, man to little man. Then he surprised me by giving me a quick bear hug before heading towards the reception area where his new family was waiting. I watched him walk toward his new family, a fast trot that broke into a run. Watched him throw his arms around his adopted mom and dad, and saw him smile at me with shining eyes, tossing me little wave, as they bundled him away.
There he goes, a kid who never had a chance, a kid who just might have one now. I felt hope, I felt pride, I felt love and... then it happened again, I felt a sudden wave of dizziness, it had been happening more and move over the last year. I swayed on my feet - putting my hand against the wall for a moment. Geez, I was in terrible shape, so busy taking care of others that I had really let myself go. I couldn't remember the last time I left the building honestly. I felt another wave of dizziness and knew I needed to get back to my office to sit down a bit - otherwise I'd be causing a scene by laying down in the hall. I stumbled back towards the office I shared with Dr. Davis, and fetched up against the door, which was locked. I never locked the door, I didn't even have key to the door. I rattled the door knob, baffled, dizzy, feeling faint and weak. This was impossible, I thought disjointedly, as I starred at the door. Something was different about the door. My name wasn't on it. Their was Dr. Davis' name, but the spot where my name had been, was blank, just the smooth grain of the wood. I reach for the space wonderingly as the sounds in the hall started to fade, and noticed without terror, without fear, that I could see the wood grain through my fingers. Through my hand.
I remembered then Benny's awkward goodbye, the emotion in his voice and the way his eyes had shined with joy and sadness, I remembered the smiles on his adopted parents faces as he ran towards them, as he threw his arms around them, and the smile on his face directed at me, and at the way their eyes had swept right over me as he waved his last goodbye, and as I started to fade away forever - there was a smile on my face as well.
|
*"Do you think what you did was okay?"*
*"The others were doing it! I didn't wanna... didn't wanna seem different."*
Jacob. Seven years old, his clothes are far less ragged than the first time she met him. It's a good sign, and she makes a note on her clipboard.
He glances at her suspiciously. "Are-are you writin' something bad about me?"
"No, Jacob. I'm not here to judge you. I'm your friend." Patricia waves a hand, slowly, in his direction. "We just need to talk, about you. How have things been lately?"
Things haven't been good, one paper says, in many more words. Another page gives a teacher's report on his performance. It doesn't disagree.
"I've been good. I made a friend!"
"Really? That's good to hear." Inwardly, Patricia is scared. It's not right, perhaps, not *fair* to the boy sitting in front of her now, but she's still scared. It's been a year, and she's still not sure the child should be around others.
*He has supervision,* she tells herself, and that ends the train of thought. "How have your exercises been going recently?"
"I-I think, um, they've been good. Bob's been helping me."
"Bob?" She makes a few more scribbles on her clipboard. "Is that your friend?"
"Yeah! He's really nice. Most of the time."
She nods. "Aren't you doing your exercises with Ms. Francine?"
"Yep! She says I've been doing much better."
Patricia shuffles through her notes. It does, indeed, say that he's been doing much better. There's no mention of anyone named Bob, though.
"Where'd you meet Bob, Jake?"
"He jus', jus' kinda appeared."
An imaginary friend. *Coping mech. - imag friend?* she scribbles.
The rest of the meeting goes well. Surprisingly so, even.
---
*"If everyone else is doing something bad, would you do it as well?"*
*"I, uh... maybe? I don't wanna do anything bad, but not having friends... that's bad too."*
Liam frowns. "I don't like coming here every month."
*I'm not a huge fan, either.* A bit of an involuntary thought, and maybe unfair, but it's true. By some cruel strike of fate, she has meetings with two of 'those' children on the same day every month. She would have turned one of them away, but she's the local expert.
Perhaps she can talk to someone about moving one of the appointments. Oh well. A task for another, less stressful, day.
"My week's been fun," Liam says, responding to a question she didn't even realize she'd asked. "My birthday's tomorrow, and it's gonna be a big party."
"That's good to hear. Who else is coming to your party?"
"Mom and da-ad, and Marcus and Michael and ... Johnny."
Patricia glances at her notes on him. Nothing shocking, there. He'd been having difficulties fitting in at his new school at first, but at one point he'd suddenly managed to pick up three friends. She hadn't been sure whether to be happy for him, or a bit worried.
She had settled comfortably on the former, after seeing how much he'd improved. Good friends, it seemed, not like the ones he'd had before. "I see. So everyone will be there, hm?"
Jacob frowns. It seems to be a habit of his. She makes another note, then scratches it out. Facial tics aren't anything to focus on. "No... well, I guess? Everyone but Bob is gonna be there."
"Bob?"
"Yeah... he introduced me to Marc n' Mike n' Johnny. Then he kinda disappeared a bit, I think. We still talk sometimes though."
"When did you meet Bob?" She grips her pen a bit tighter.
"I dunno. He talked to me in the car, once, and then we talked more sometimes? Mommy says he's my image-inary friend, but I think he's real."
*That makes four.*
She shivers a bit, involuntary, before the logical part of her brain kicks in. It's a common name, filling children's books and movies, and it shouldn't be strange to have multiple children with imaginary friends of the name. Especially if they all had some kind of mental trauma.
Still...
Patricia makes another note, underlining it.
^^^^r/forricide
| 2017-10-05T17:07:23 | 2017-10-05T14:28:32 | 127 | 31 |
[WP] You sit with him in his final moments. His paw in your hand. Such a good boy. As he leaves you witness his life flash before your eyes. To him, you were a glorious king and he, your most noble of knights. Many adventures you had together. You decide to share some with the world and so you write
|
I hope it was clear as the moon in the night
That I saw you the same way, a glorious Knight
That there were no days, where I didn't feel
Like a king with his prince sitting there at my heel.
They say it's a burden, that noone should bear
To bury their children, their closest, their heir
And yet, though I knew this day surely would come
I chose you, my mutt, and I took you back home
And what an adventure we've had o'er the years
I say you, we did well old buddy, so cheers
Fear not, for I'm sure that I'll figure it out
I'll be okay, you know, I'm not JUST an old clout
I'll be... I'm sorry for my cracking voice
I'll just lay here a second, and make no more noise
I will just hold you tightly and reminisce
Heh.. you remember when, we did that and this?
|
I entered the back garden of our kingdom with my master and I stood vigilant as ever, my eyes peered out over our glorious kingdom and as I gazed I spotted an intruder; he was tiny, but he was mighty. The furred plume of his helmet stood on his back, he locked eyes with me and I knew I must defend the kingdom. I flew off the balcony and the intruder ran like the coward he was. I gave chase as fast as I could, as he neared the castle wall he fell. My teeth bit into his flesh, I took no joy in my kill as I felt his tiny breath leave him. I gently took the invaders corpse into my mouth and dropped it at my masters feet. The look on his face confused me, looking almost with pity at the tiny invader. My master spoke “thank you buddy,” he said as he took the corpse with two fingers from the ground, my job as defender is unappreciated.
| 2018-11-02T00:40:18 | 2018-11-01T23:50:14 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] The reason we haven't had contact from any aliens is that there is a supreme alien race that secures and contains all other races like SCPs. And Humans are keter class.
|
**Item \#:** SCP-XXXX
**Object Class:** Keter
**Special Containment Procedures:** ~~Due to their primitive technology, none are necessary~~ Due to their extreme technological growth, media consumed by SCP-XXXX is to be filled with videos and pictures that are regarded as “funny” by SCP-XXXX (commonly referred to as “memes”) to slow down or completely halt their progression until more permanent containment can be established. Multiple misinformation campaigns are currently in place to prevent SCP-XXXX from expanding into space. The planet that SCP-XXXX lives on is to be monitored at all times and any breaches are to be instantly reported.
**Description:** Specimens of SCP-XXXX are tall, thin creatures roughly █ █ in height and █ █ in weight. They are sapient, capable of communication, and performing complicated tasks when working together. Limited testing has shown them to be extremely curious, social and eager, as well as [DATA EXPUNGED]. They are, however, susceptible to humor, lazy, and willing to start conflict over the pettiest of issues. These qualities are the only things keeping SCP-XXXX in containment.
**Addendum XXXX-1:** Note from Researcher ██████
*Due to the danger of security breaches, no more testing is allowed. In the last test of SCP-XXXX, the specimen was able to successfully use a recording device. Fortunately, this was averted, but we might not be so lucky in the future.*
|
Tick...tick...tick
Slowly, the population counter continued to increase. In seven years, they had already doubled and neared one million. The grey being watching the counter could only feel disappointment. If this continued, another purge would be required.
The door behind the being opened, and another grey humanoid walked in.
"Commander, we may have to act soon. Already these apes plan to explore the stars again." the newcomer said, eyeing the counter.
The command nodded.
"It's a shame our agent on the planet was neutralized. He was doing so well in containing the humans with his creations. At least our backup plan is still in place." the commander said, turning to face his subordinate.
Tick...tick...tick...
And with that, the counter hit its mark of one million.
"It is time. Activate the Mugann."
Nodding, the subordinate pressed a button on the display pad. Immediately the virtual weapon Mugann flashed into existence.
"Destroy their main gathering hub to put them back in their place. The hub they call Kamina City", The commander said, turning around and heading for the door.
The Mugann will take care of this problem for sure. And if it failed, they still had other weapons they could use. These humans, these spiral powered menaces can never be allowed to win.
| 2019-02-25T18:46:29 | 2019-02-25T16:21:08 | 78 | 47 |
[WP] You live in a world where one's name decides their future. Every child has a name with a clear meaning. Perfect, Unique, Joy. You on the other hand have a rather... strange name.
|
Every time someone asked me for the meaning of my name, I tried to change the subject. You see, in a world full of Joys and Hopes, my name can stand out a little. When I first found out that my name is unusual I didn't mind it. but when I got older, It made me think. Why would my parent's choose this name for their first and only child?
Through the years I was always upset that my name didn't benefit me like everyone else. When I was 15, my best friend Funny left our town after her mom, Luck, won the lottery. "Why couldn't you name me Luck?" I asked my dad on our way home. "With a name like that, I won't even need to go to this stupid school". "Listen", said my dad, "I know it feels unfair, but your mother and I chose this name for your own good. Do you know why people choose to name their kids in names like 'Joy' and 'Rich'?". "Yes, dad. the name gives the kid a benefit to help them in life. so if I had a name like 'Friendly' I'll have a lot of friends". "Yes, and no." my dad answered. "You see, when your mother and I chose your name, we didn't want you to be like everyone else. we didn't want you to think you can just do what your name told you to do". "But if that's what you wanted, why didn't you name me 'Unique', or 'Special'?". "Don't you get it?" my dad shaken his head, "if there are millions of 'Uniques', are they really unique anymore? Tragedy and I decided to give you this name to teach you to earn your life by yourself. No cheats, no special names, just you."
"And I think," my dad said while I was getting out of the car, "that your mom would have been proud to know it works". "For real?" I asked, tearing up. "I know it, James", he said.
|
"My mother was a bi-..." I stopped myself and sighed. "Let's just say that I resembled my father too much for her to ever really love me. She tolerated me, though. Besides the welfare checks she got because of me, I was a pretty decent whipping post for her to take her frustrations out on.
"One time I made her *proud*. And she was so overjoyed, she lost control of herself in the moment and *hugged* me, can you imagine it? Neither could I. But after she realized what she had done, she recoiled from me in horror. And, well...joy turned to shame turned to anger and she whipped me so hard I couldn't sit straight, lie down, or take a shower for nearly two weeks.
"I purposely went out of my way to never make her proud again.
"But there was some good that came out of the whipping, lest you think I resent my mother for it. No, I'm thankful to her. She made me stronger. She guided me onto my destined path. Without her, I would have never lived up to my name.
"When I was younger, I used to think that I was the cause of her suffering. Or that she had named me that so that my future would be full of nothing but suffering. I doubt she had forseen that I would instead *be* the cause of suffering for others. But, well, here I am."
I spread my arms and smiled.
"So," I asked the man sitting across from me. "What do you think? Isnt that a beautiful story?"
"I-I'm sorry all that happened to you, but...I really don't know what you want from me."
"All of my life I've made others suffer, but I was never satisfied. And that bugged me. And then it hit me. Why am I making these *random* people suffer, when I can just go after the one person that started this all in the first place. Right, *Dad*?"
| 2019-04-21T04:44:50 | 2019-04-20T22:41:35 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You notice that redditors you downvote never post again. One day, you jokingly downvote your friend's post. He dies in a bizarre accident shortly afterwards
[removed]
|
My best friend was dead. He had fallen into a threshing machine, and it was as if I had pushed him. My mind desperately sought a solution. A week after his death, I had an idea. What if I could upvote him back to life?
I ran to my PC, went into reddit and began upvoting everything he had ever posted. Just as I finished, there was a knock on the door. With hope in my heart I opened it.
My friend stood there - with a green pallor to his skin and horrible wounds all over his body. His arms reached out and he began shuffling slowly forward whispering "Braaaaains".
I slammed the door, raced back to the PC, and once again tried to reverse my actions. Using a zombie account (sorry!) I downvoted all his posts. The shuffling and banging at the door ceased.
Well that didn't work. In what other way could I give new life to my friend's posts? Got it! I began reposting them in the same subreddits where he had written them, word for word.
There were many sneering replies, but I didn't care. Then a bright light filled the room and the ghostly image of my friend appeared. "Jakob" it said in a quavering voice, "I've come to haunt you forever for reposting my ideas. Woooooo!"
I haven't had a moment's peace since, with chains rattling and objects flying across the room. I can only wish that all reposters would meet a similar fate.
|
"So redditors you downvote never post again?"
"Yeah, man, it's really weird. There was this one troll on /r/AskReddit that I downvoted, he never bothered us again."
"That's just creepy...lol, mate, check out this gif I just posted!"
"...that's just your cat. How many times do I have to tell you, nobody cares about your cat!"
Without thinking, I hit the downvote button.
"Oooooh no, I've just downvoted your post, what's gonna happen to you, you get the curse of the /u/andrephilidor downvote..."
The Skype call cut out mysteriously after I finished my sentence. At first, I thought the problem was on my end, and as I was trying to reconfigure Skype, I got a phone call.
"I'm sorry, but your friend Bill has passed away following a very strange accident. Apparently he was storing some very heavy things in his attic, and now of all times they just broke through his roof and crushed him to death..."
"I'm so sorry..." I replied, barely able to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.
I only had one more thing to do.
I went to my reddit account and checked the "downvoted" section.
It was right there that I realised the truth.
**I WAS A MASS MURDERER.**
| 2017-03-04T13:16:43 | 2017-03-04T11:54:07 | 817 | 43 |
[WP] No one believed you when you told them that your four year old got abducted by aliens on your way home from school. Today an alien shows up at your doorstep begging you to save them. Your nasty toddler has taken over the galaxy as its most vicious overlord and only you can make it stop.
|
He called himself Tobias.
He looked human enough until you really studied him, and then little details gave it away. At the base of his cropped hair the follicles grouped together like a doll's. The irises of his glassy eyes too vividly conveyed their electric blue. The skin of his neck wrinkled strangely when he moved his head, like thin rubber. As he sat across from my husband and I in our living room, pretending to sip his tea, I tried to ignore all of that and focus on his words. He spoke like a rookie news anchor, over-emphasizing all the wrong syllables.
"We always intended to bring him back," he said, looking back and forth between my husband and I. "When we took your offspring during the previous..."
His eyes went distant briefly.
"...week, we only wanted to study his mechanics and return him within two rotations of your planet. He was not to be harmed."
Not to be harmed. The words shot me with panic and rage, and as my fists balled up on my lap I blurted out,
"Has he been harmed?"
"No," Tobias said, almost dropping his tea. He could recognize our emotions, it seemed. "No, your offspring is healthy, that is not the problem."
"Then what is the problem?" My husband, Walter, asked. He sat beside me on the couch, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes red with tension.
Tobias set the mug on the coffee table, near but not on the coaster, then held his hands in an unfamiliar gesture.
"In my culture we do not believe in physically restraining one another in any way. We believe this is..."
He looked past us into the middle distance.
"...barbaric. Yes, barbaric. We have a complex set of laws and norms, and we ensure compliance through verbal reinforcement. When one of my kind goes somewhere they are not supposed to go, they are told of the error and they stop. Compliance always occurs, even among the very young."
My husband and I looked at each other, and despite the terror and frustration of the past several days - enduring police questioning, blanketing social media with information about our son, and giving a tear streaked press conference - something close to humor sparkled in his eyes. I almost laughed.
"You mean you can only tell Skyler no?" I asked. "When you want him to do something, or...?"
"Not do something?" My husband finished.
Even through the human disguise his discomfort was palpable. His throat moved like he couldn't get a pill down. He made a sweeping gesture with both hands, seeming to encompass our entire living room and the world outside.
"He wants to explore everything," Tobias said. "and if he encounters something he has not seen before he must see it break. This appears to give him much joy."
"Couldn't you just lock him in a room?" I asked.
Part of me couldn't believe I was asking an alien why he didn't just do the sensible thing and imprison my two year old son, but we were long past logic at this point.
"It is not our way," the alien-man said. "We told him, as you said "no" many, many times, but still he wandered our ship and destroyed many priceless objects."
"Where is Skyler now?" My husband asked. "Why didn't you just bring him back?"
The alien looked down at his hands, running a finger across the opposite palm, which was smooth and unlined.
"Unfortunately, your offspring has found the chair of the supreme overlord. He is now in command of our entire fleet."
My son was in charge of an alien race. As horrified as I felt by all of this, I couldn't help but feel a little bit proud. How many of those bitches at church could say that about their supposedly "genius" kid? Oh Randal can play chopsticks, that's great but has he conquered an extra-terrestrial civilization, Susan? No?
"What has he done?" My husband asked. His frown and knitted brows showed none of the pride I was feeling.
"He has destroyed seventeen planets." Tobias said. Sixteen of them were uninhabited, but one of them..."
For a long moment the three of us sat in the silence, each seemingly lost in our own thoughts. Traffic sounds from outside drifted though the window. I focused on the feeling of air from the ceiling fan moving across the skin of my forearm. The smooth warmth of the mug under my fingertips. Anything to push away the thought trying ram its way into my brain, that I was the mother of space Hitler.
"What do you need from us?" I asked.
Tobias looked me squarely in the eyes, a tear running down his alien cheek.
"Can you please come and get him?"
******
Edit: a couple of typos
|
Davis sank down in his brown leathered recliner, he held up the crystal glass containing the amber liquid and toasted the empty room, “Here’s to another lousy day!” he downed it all in one go.
As with every other day in recent memory, he was all alone in his apartment. Ever since the abduction… Davis and his wife had tried to mend the relationship, but they just couldn’t. Erica never managed to shake the sneaking suspicion that Davis had something to do with Summer’s disappearance, “Aliens?!” she would shout, “You expect any sane person to believe that? Just admit that you lost her, it was your fault!”
He chased away the memory with another glass of 16-year-old Lagavulin Single Malt.
Davis had been driving home with Summer on a late night when he had been blinded by a bright flash of light, it was almost too cliché to have happened to a real person, but real it was. A being with two heads had paralyzed him with a projectile weapon and abducted his daughter, his vision burning the shape of the alien against the bright light into his mind, as it ran up the ramp with one of the few things he still cared about. That was six years ago.
Like Erica, the local police didn’t believe his story either, but they couldn’t find any evidence linking him to the abduction, “Of course not!”, Davis would say, “They flew away into the skies, you dolts!”
He cringed at how insane that must’ve sounded, but it was the truth, damn it.
Davis was just about to swap out his glass for the entire bottle when he heard the doorbell to his apartment making a familiar annoying ring, “Ding-dong, Ding-dong”. He steadied himself against the coffee-colored bookshelf and wobbled towards the infernal sound.
Davis couldn’t believe it, there he was, there was no mistaking it, the alien with two heads. The alien attempted to speak, but six years of pent up rage caused Davis to instinctively throw the alien into his apartment with wild abandon, “It’s you! Give me back my little girl you son of a—”
The alien threw up his hands defensively, “Wait, wait just a moment!”
“You took her!” Davis threw a book from a nearby table that doubled as a shoe-shelf at the prone man who tried to scurry away from him.
“No, well— Yes, it’s complicated!” the alien dodged another book aimed at his heads.
Untamed rage mixed with sleep deprivation seeped into every utterance Davis made, “I’ll kill you!”
“Let me explain, it’s a good story, I’m sure you will understand!”
Davis threw the alien against his glass coffee-table, it easily scattered into a million pieces, he began strangling one of the heads, “Could you not do that!” the alien protested with his other head, he knocked Davis backwards.
“Your daughter is alive and well!” the alien blurted before Davis could lunge at him again.
His baby girl was still alive, that fact stopped him dead in his tracks, “What? What did you just say?”
The alien breathed raggedly from both heads, “I tried telling you the moment the door opened… I see now where she gets it from,”
“Gets… what?”
“Davis, you lunatic,” one head said, still breathing heavily, “the galaxy needs you to save it, damn it all!” said the other.
Davis tried his best to sober up, but each word out of the alien sounded completely absurd, “I don’t understand what you’re saying, what could I possibly do to save the galaxy?”
“We need you to reign in your demon spawn of a child, you bastard,”
“Who, Summer? She was the sweetest child—”
“Yes, bloody Summer, she’s taken over this entire galaxy already, in just six years! Her eyes are now set on Andromeda,” the alien said, “She’s relentless, nobody can stop her!” the other head chimed in.
Davis accepted that this might be one more of his alcohol fueled nightmares, but no matter, his answer would always be the same, “Take me to her!” he demanded.
*****
Let me know if you'd like the story to continue, in any case, I thank you for reading!
[/r/NordicNarrator](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator/)
**EDIT:** [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ajyg0r/wp_no_one_believed_you_when_you_told_them_that/ef130sq/?context=3) in the comments below, thank you for reading!
**EDIT II:** [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/NordicNarrator/comments/akd26w/summers_predominance_iii/)
| 2019-01-26T05:24:43 | 2019-01-26T04:57:45 | 1,045 | 115 |
[WP] You were warned that your newest crew member, a "Human", had vastly different biology from all other known races. This mad made very clear when they drank all of the galaxy's strongest known poison, saying that they "needed a drink of water."
|
"He's drinking that putrid liquid again, it's so clear and unnatural, wheres the colouring?" Pita had his squared face smushed against the glass, each breath leaving a faint white outline as his one nostril flared.
"If you find it so disgusting, why do you keep watching him?" Standing by his side was Linp, an odd alien, having four legs that each sprawled out from her hips. Each set of legs were accompanied by feet which contained strange blue bubbles, these bubbles allowing their kind to walk up walls or even mountains if they were feeling adventurous.
"I know, but he's so ugly, do you think it's because of all the water he drinks?" Pita found himself obsessing over it. His three eyes swirling in their sockets as he watched him take another sip. "Ugh... he just gulps it down, acting like it won't kill him. Have you ever seen a creature just knock back poison like it's nothing?"
"I will admit, it's quite odd. As a child we were always taught to avoid water, you can imagine my surprise when at our first galactic meeting with Earth, we were offered water. We nearly went to war with them over that, thinking they were trying to poison us. The matter was only calmed when one of the human advisors drank the liquid, revealing that it was just a misunderstanding." She repeated her memory, having to admit that Pita did have a point about it being odd.
"I know right, they nearly did the same thing to us, only they actually asked us what our preference was before the meeting. Glad these evolved monkeys can at least learn." Pita, tapped the window, only for the human to take a glance over, giving the screen a weird look before taking another sip.
"Careful! What are you doing? He's our crewmate, if he sees us watching him, he will grow suspicious. I don't know about your kind, but my species don't badmouth our allies."
"Allies? What if the humans had actually intended to poison you? Sure they played it up as a misunderstanding, but they can be ruthless. I'm just saying what we are all thinking. Plus this is a one-way window, I wouldn't be stupid enough to let him see me." Pita said, shrugging his three arms to the side.
"I. Was. Not. Thinking that!" Linp made sure to really prove her point with those words. Making sure each one had the right amount of tone and importance given to it. "You have been following way too many conspiracy stations. The humans may be dumb and toxin drinkers, but they try. I don't mind our little comrade, he tries hard and doesn't badmouth anyone. Unlike a certain person I know."
"Oh, bite one of my many orbs." Pita huffed, dismissively waving aside her comment, only to stop his waving when he spotted the human staring at them. "Is... it looking at us?"
"I... believe it is." The pair grew silent as the human placed down the empty cup, awkwardly clearing his throat. "Um, you... knocked off the windows cloaking when you tapped it," Paul muttered, staring at the pair before Pita awkwardly tapped the window, returning it to it's darkened state.
"I'm going to have to apologize for this aren't I?" The alien said, surprisingly able to feel embarrassment over his little speech.
"If you have any dignity you will. Now I will leave you to it. Try not to upset the human, he may throw a cup of water at you." She said with a laugh, leaving Pita to take a large gulp before entering the room.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories Any support helps! I will also be posting more of my writing there.}
|
We all shun them, these ugly creatures from the planet R453, also known in their language as Earth. They are a plague to their environments and feed by extracting resources from their surroundings. They are viruses surviving on the hardships of other creatures around them, creatures they call lesser than them.
The stuff they are made of, water, is one of the most potent poisons available in the Universe. It is a virus whose only goal is to spread further and further and it does so through its vessels, called living creatures. These creatures, of which the ultimate one is the human, feed on each other, creating a terrifying hierarchy and thereby justifying their actions. Dog eat dog, as they would say. Their society preys on the weak and praises the strong. One of their most influential teachers on the planet even remarked how those that are poor will be left with nothing and those that are rich will enjoy even greater opulence. You know what they did to that guy? Terminated him by nailing him on a cross, proceeding to worship him. Complete enigma, these humans. They even invented different languages, only to separate themselves from each other. In my reports, it has come to my attention that the number of different languages existing on planet Earth passes over one million, if you include the utterings of every living being on it. They use language to recognize one another and separate friend from foe...
Water undulates, spreading over any surface it touches, completely covering it, rendering it useless and disfunctional. One drop of water has the ability to disable the works of a thousand scientists, if it is dropped in the right place at the right time. Most machines malfunction at the merest touch with this terrible substance and not even the toughest warriors of our galaxy survive a scuffle with this liquid menace. One drop renders your body useless, two drops induces coma, the third drop? You don't live to tell the tale.
The reason why we have such a dangerous creature with us is to conquer a planet gone rogue, that is full of another toxic liquid made from the glands of a very specific breathing creature called 'cow'. It's the planet N793, also called the Milk planet. Humans have a very peculiar connection to milk, as they extract it from living cows, making a drink out of it and other products they proceed to consume. Milk is very dangerous to our species and it even affects some humans in unprecedented ways, but it does not kill them, those pesky resilient aliens.
The Milk planet is actually an arms factory (you cannot use water in war, according to the Universal Galactic War Codex, as it destroys everything in its presence), but the cows, having gained sentience, put up a valiant fight. They walk on their hind legs, shooting milk out of their udders, thereby killing their captors.
We have to bring back peace on this planet, so that we may continue fighting the good fight for our glorious galaxy. You see, the galaxy is in constant war with other galaxies and almost every creature is aware of the ongoing carnage, except for a few special cases, like humans.
But now, everything changed. There are no holds barred when it comes to arms production.
We are using the humans as a sentient shield, but its mere presence sends a shiver to my spine. The Milk planet will be in our vicinity in less than ten quarks of time, enough for me to extricate this report out of my neural pathways. As I was minding my notes into my MindPad, the human approached me and belched: ''Yo, where the fuck can one here get a sandwich or whatever?!''
I vomited in my own mouth, thinking about the terrifying things one has to do to acquire such a delicate meal. Maybe this all was a mistake, maybe the real enemy is not the cow - Maybe, it is standing right next to me.
| 2020-05-18T10:06:44 | 2020-05-18T08:18:21 | 588 | 384 |
[WP] You just accidentally downloaded the Kindle version of the Necronomicon.
|
*The Necronomicon by The Mad Arab...I didn't download this, but I adore Lovecraft so I'm not complaining. Maybe Patricia put it on there as a gift.*
I looked at my Paperwhite with curiosity and excitement- after all, I'm a Lovecraft fanboy, yet somehow I've never actually peeked at any fan-made copies of The Necronomicon. I decided to open it, excited to see if it was a quality imitation...but instead, I just got a bunch of jibberish and weird symbols. *Well...I guess it's technically accurate? Kinda boring on a Kindle, though. This would be way better if it were a real book.*
Before I knew it, a flash of light and loud screeching sound filled my room, a little puff of smoke rising to the ceiling. I'd....I'd summoned C'thulu. There he was, staring at me, moving ever so slightly...
From inside my kindle.
*Paperwhites don't support gifs or videos, how odd.*
"Wh....*let me out of here fool*!" It screeched, black and white, e-inky and furious.
*Well....shit. This kindle doesn't have speakers...*
I tried to power it off, but it wasn't registering a response.
"*RELEASE ME FROM THIS CAGE IMMEDIATELY!*"
I threw the Kindle down and ran for my life, booming bellows of anger echoing behind me.
"*WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING, MORTAL! ^THIS ^^IS ^^^YOUR ^^^^RESPONSIBILITY!"
After successfully fleeing my house, I pondered how to handle the situation. Trying to format the device was too risky, destroying it could be catastrophic...
And then it dawned on me.
*I'll send it back to Amazon.*
|
######[](#dropcap)
The book is in an ad at the bottom of the Kindle app. *'Reduced to 99c from $999,999.99'*. It had no reviews. I swipe to the next deal, and miss.
*"Book downloading."*
Bugger. What kind of a book has no title or cover? Sounds like some self-published crap.
I try to go back to the third (and definitely the best) Harry Potter book, but the new book has already appeared in the home screen. It still has no cover or title.
*What the hell, might as well give it a go.* I tap on the new book to open it.
My Iphone begins to tremble in my hands. Before I can react, the glass screen splits down the middle. Jagged little glass teeth gnash out and come down on my thumb.
A moment of searing pain. I drop the phone but it is too late.
The phone swallows. There is a small belch. My hand is bleeding, my right thumb missing below the joint.
Siri speaks. But her voice has changed into a low seductive whisper, into a tone that promises me everything and so much more.
"Your payment is accepted."
The mouth shuts and the screen appears to be back to normal.
"The Kindlenomicon," the title page reads. "The e-book of forbidden knowledge."
Very gingerly, I reach down with my uninjured left hand. I tap the screen quickly and pull back before I can lose another digit.
The first chapter flashes onto the screen.
---
*Read more about Amazon's plot to take over the world at [r/jd_rallage](http://www.reddit.com/r/jd_rallage).*
| 2016-02-10T09:40:53 | 2016-02-10T09:12:54 | 227 | 44 |
[WP] Your life is an endless series of horror movies. You're always at the wrong place at the wrong time. You're stuck seeing all your friends die right after you make them. The reason you're still alive? You can hear the horror music.
|
I look like a fucking psycho, and that's okay. I dance in public, always moving to the music I can hear, always smiling a little. When I've got a cigarette, I wave it like a conductor's wand, in time with the tritones and minor scales. Try it; it's fun.
The music I hear spans eras -- spans lifetimes -- and that's why I can't help but dance! It's always such good music, even though it's ominous and supposed to be a warning. But it's often so delicious, you know?
Picture this: you're in a gas station in a small town in east Texas when the roar of ATVs starts to rumble into your hearing. Feedback from an electric guitar rolls into a slow, lumbering series of chugging riffs, building steadily, note by note, as those ATVs draw closer. And then a single note rings out above the chaos as the leader shuts off his engine, metal hooks and chains in hand. It's piercing, building tension, not even a note in the scale, unsettling, dissolving into noise against the rusty scrape of iron over concrete...
God, I barely made it out of that, but I just _had_ to stick around and hear that one note! You just had to be there, I guess.
Like that mass stabbing at my old university? I knew when Sasha snapped because of that gated snare motif. Just one, thunderous hit. One hit that reverberated through my head as I watched Jo-Beth Casey tell just one joke too many about Sasha's dead mother. And then the 80s synthesizers started and I started to dance.
As the knife plunged through the students around me, I dodged and weaved to the beat of drum machines and programmed strings. I swear David Bowie could have been crooning in the distance.
But you know... it's hard to make friends when they ignore your warnings. You know what it's like to shout at the screen when a character is gonna open the closet, right?
Imagine people opening the closet every fucking day. It gets exhausting.
I had a girlfriend once, but she wouldn't believe me when I told her the music meant she had to lose her virginity to stay alive. She called me an asshole and ran off on her own, despite my earnest protests. It was dark and she was eaten by a grue.
So she left me, on the other hand, to die a virgin. But then I figured out a loophole and _fucked the grue_. I knew it would work because A: the music stopped. And 2, I'm still here, aren't I?
Shut up. You'd do it, too, if you had my gift and had to think quick.
So I look like a psycho when someone dies nearby. When unlucky kids tumble into wood chippers. When my best friend got covered in blood and set the school on fire. When I noticed a tiny, odd shaped box in the attic.
Speaking of, I didn't sleep that night. I didn't open that puzzle box, so the music played constantly as long as I looked at the damned thing. I may or may not have been drunk and swaying to the soundtrack. Maybe.
But anyway, as long as I listen to the musical cues, I don't think I have to worry about dying -- well, as long as I don't worry about looking like a psycho. And I wouldn't trade that for all the friends in the world.
____
Edit: proofreading, sorry.
|
'Oh God... Not again...!!!' I thought as those deep brass Inception style horns reverberated around me. I could kill Hans Zimmer for pioneering that sound, I hear them every day of my waking life, and this was no exception. I knew what was coming and it was time to start running.
This time I was in the woods with a girl named Chloe, we'd met previously at a bar in town. I was new here, wanted something to do so she offered to show me this old cabin down in the woods, previously owned by an old hunter who lived out here. A dirty mattress, some old fishing magazines covered in dust scattered the table in the kitchen and a threadbare rug lined the floor. Apparently it had been empty for years, Chloe liked to come down here and think, just to get away from it all. It was around 1AM and we were walking back to the car after sitting out on the porch on the old bench, drinking whiskey Chloe kept in the cupboard for special occasions when those all too familiar deafening horns kicked in.
In slow motion style I turned around to look back at the cabin, my eyes widened as they always do, and the flimsy door flew open and there he was. A man, maybe 6ft, standing, staring us down with a machete in his right hand. Well built, I couldn't really see what he was wearing, instead I turned back to Chloe and screamed 'RUUUUUUUUUN!!!!' pulling her with my hand. We were sprinting, but once again it always felt like slow motion, all of a sudden the drums kicked in around me. He was chasing us and fast, I could hear his boots hit the damp forest floor. 'Fuck!!' I screamed as the drums got quicker and quicker. He was getting closer. The horns were long gone and replaced with an almost tribal style pounding drum rhythm, pushing Chloe and I forward. I shouted at her to split, she bolted off to the left while I took the right. We hid behind trees, when all of a sudden everything went quiet. 'This is never a good sign' I thought.
I was too terrified to peek behind the tree to see what was going on. A piano note hit me, then another one. 'Oh not the piano! Please not the piano!' I silently begged. Still, it beats the creepy doll music I had yesterday. The piano notes were by themselves, but slightly in the distance meaning he was heading for Chloe. This time I poked my head around the tree and saw him creeping, one foot in front of the other. As each foot landed so did the piano note. Those dam atmospheric strings weren't helping my heart rate either. The piano started up again, the strings were getting louder and fuller, thicker even. The screech of the strings kicked in and the piano got ridiculously intense and fast, as I saw him leap for her, her screams didn't last long... Then silence.
The man walked off, leaving Chloe lying there. I heard the all too familiar piano again, this time it was lighter, and gentler, meaning I could breath a sigh of relief. It was over. I walked off and tried to locate my car, the piano gradually became the Hulk's Lonely Man theme, as it always does when these things are over. I hate this song, it signals that the next horrific scenario I have to go through is just around the corner and the whole cycle starts again.
---
Apologies for the slightly rushed feel, written in half an hour
| 2016-12-31T20:39:30 | 2016-12-31T20:06:44 | 397 | 59 |
[WP] The flat Earth society has started a cult that sacrifices people by throwing them off the edge of the Earth. You are their first victim.
|
**Ok, human sacrifice. We have brought you to the edge of the earth and we will now throw you off of it.**
You DO realize the earth is round, don't you?
**No. That's kind of our thing.**
Well, you got me there. Go ahead, Skippy. But take my blindfold off. I wanna see it.
**What's that now?**
I wanna see the edge of the Earth. I've never seen it before. I'm just used to that round globe thing in every school ever that omits this particular feature.
**Yeah, well, we can't. God says. No peeks for the heretics.**
Look, what do you want?
**Human sacrifice!**
Come on, man...
**(sigh) $100.**
I'm sorry?
**I need one hundred bucks, man.**
And this is how you do it?
**Third time this week.**
How much money have you gotten?
**To be honest, none yet. Killed two guys by pushing them off of the end of the earth, in front of an oncoming truck.**
I was wondering why it was so noisy here.
**WHAT?**
I SAID-- nevermind. Look. Here's $100. Just don't kill me or anyone else. Now take the blindfold off.
**Ok. (removes blindfold)**
Gasp! DAD! YOURE ALIVE!
**That's right, son. But I'm not your dad. I'm-- (hit by blowdart from off screen, dies)**
Noooooooo!
(dramatic organ music) (freeze frame) (fade to black)
|
"You're fucking kidding me, right?
The group consisting a mix of overweight antivaxxers, conspiracy theorists, and atheists (the bad kind) dragged a bound Elon Musk through the cold Antarctic desert. The group had been hiking up a fairly large snowy hill for what was 30 minutes now.
"Why not just use a helicopter? Hell maybe a proper gear for walking through the ANTARCTIC would be nice for god's sake but this? So inefficient," Musk argued.
"Shut up," grunted one of his captors.
Elon had been enjoying a week of showcasing his companies' accomplishment when a mob of people stormed the stage and grabbed him. He had to give them credit though. He didn't even know how they got to Antarctica.
"We're here!"
Elon turned around, already knowing the look on his captor's faces as they would just see the vast icy wasteland and saying, "I told you so!"
With a slow rise of dread and horror in Elon Musk, it was the group who would be beaming with happiness as they all looked at the other side of the hill.
Beyond the hill was what seemed like an endless cliff, the bottom shrouded in a thick mist. The sky had turned twilight, and Elon Musk noticed that the sun was now significantly smaller.
The group looked at Elon with smug and correctness.
"Got anything to say, Musk?" One of his captors asked, smirking.
Elon looked at the group, then the drop, then the group again.
"You're fucking kidding me, right?"
| 2017-06-21T16:31:10 | 2017-06-21T15:21:33 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session
|
“I sneak up behind my target, aim my derringer at his head, and pull the trigger”
“Roll a d20 twice against your agility and once against your dexterity”
A 5
A 17
D 12
“You successfully sneak up on your target and shot him in the head. However you chose a poor spot to hide while shooting and get spotted by a nearby theater patron. Your target dies within hours while you flee the scene under pursuit. The police know your identity”
“Imma hide in this here barn”
|
DM: Ok Harold if you could just roll for initiative.
Harold: I rolled a 1
DM: ok the bowmen is first to attack you. He rolls a natural 20
Harold: so what’s happened?
DM: He has shot you in the eye, you’re dead.... on the plus side it will look fab in this tapestry I have been putting together of the game!
| 2018-05-29T09:28:35 | 2018-05-29T08:51:37 | 39 | 13 |
[WP] Every day someone spends not speaking makes their words stronger; this means that more people will believe them even if they don't make sense, or do as they command without question. One woman made a vow of silence 20 years ago which she plans to break today.
|
When the Day of Words came about, when everyone in the world suddenly became aware that silence literally meant power, there were people in every street corner, every store front, every public park, and every movie theater, compelling each other to rob, to steal, to rape, to kill. Even worse, there were people who compelled others to love, to be happy, to stay alive, to offer kindness. When anyone could force anyone else to effectively become someone else, thoughts and feelings be damned, no one would ever be, or feel, safe again. You could spend a week charging your Words to gain an edge, but unless you hid *very* well, someone else could always compel you to speak non-stop, and then even the freedom to scream would be denied to you.
Joan was young then, but far from stupid. She saw her parents shoot themselves because her brother complained after a week-long sulk that "you don't know me; you can both go to hell". She saw her brother running out of the door soon after, crying and cursing someone else. Voices from the television began to report strange and horrible things. She knew she was in danger, and she panicked for a few hours wrapped in her duvet, but she eventually had an idea.
She made her way to the phone, called her best friend Meghan--whose family was just out of town--in her best impression of calm tones, and asked for her to sleep over. When Meghan came and was greeted by the sight of duvet-wrapped Joan with tear marks all over, she almost turned and left right then. But she didn't. And, after hearing Joan's story, she almost wished she did.
Joan explained the plan. It was simple. They would go to Meghan's house. They would charge their Words. When Meghan's family came back--*if* they came back--they would be compelled to stay silent. And **deaf**. It seemed the only way to be sure. And then, after a few more weeks of charging their Words, Joan and Meghan would compel each other, at the very same time, to stay silent and deaf. It would be an inconvenience, certainly, but the alternative would be far, far worse.
Joan and Meghan disagreed on how long they should stay deaf. Joan wanted a whole lifetime, but Meghan had hoped that the Words, just as they suddenly came to be, would go away just as suddenly, and there was no guarantee that the effect of Words would dissipate right then. It would be quite a waste, she felt, to give up on all the good music in the world if the Words proved to be powerful for only a couple of months. In the end, they settled on twenty years. Not because either of them had a good idea of what twenty years of silence and quiet would mean, though. Only because twenty seemed like a nice number at the time.
Meghan's family did come back. However, someone had already compelled them to be happy and carefree. They did not give Meghan's plan any thought, and compelled Meghan to join them for a second round of family vacations, using the last of their savings. Before Joan could be "invited", Meghan said the Words:
"By the time I finish this sentence, you will become deaf and you will no longer speak, until twenty years have passed." Under her breath she added: "Hope to see you then."
It had been twenty years since Joan last saw Meghan. The Words had not gone away. The world had. It had been an advantage, not being compelled by anyone. Still, it had been Hell on Earth just to live those twenty years. But Joan lived. Joan kept silent. And soon Joan would be able to speak. She already knew what to say.
Only two words: "**Go Deaf**."
All she needed was to visit the last radio tower on Earth. Which she stood in front of, today.
Her now leathery face cracked a smile. *Meghan, I hope you can hear me.*
|
It had been difficult at first, back when she was still residing in the city. To walk along the street, only nodding and gesturing with her hands, never speaking, this was quite a difficult thing to do. Even now her face flushed red with hot embarrassment upon recalling the time she accidentally toppled the fruit vendor's overflowing stand, filled to the brim with ripe apples, pears, and bananas. As the apples and pears rolled unsteadily across the street to be violently destroyed by tires, and as passersby carelessly mushed the bananas underfoot, all she could do was wave her arms frantically at them and look pleadingly into the vendor's angry eyes for the forgiveness for which she could not ask. He yelled at her, the veins in his neck bulging, spittle flying from his red and doughy face. She had quickly reached into her purse and grabbed a folded set of small bills, throwing the wad at him as she scurried away in tears.
While that memory was just one of many that surfaced from the roiling froth of her brimming mind on that 7304th day of her vow of silence, her conviction that it would all be worth it steadily rose above it all, quieting her thoughts and slowly cooling her burning face. It had become much easier for her to remain quiet once she moved to the quaint little cabin tucked far away in the woods. Here in the wilderness there were no angry or inquisitive people to distract her from carefully sculpting the words that she knew would change the world. As the Day of Speaking grew nearer she felt herself growing stronger, filling her with the immense power that her words would have upon being uttered. How she relished the coming day! No longer would she be powerless in a huge sea of meaningless chanted phrases, over-inflated egos, and craftily spoken half-truths. She had been weak all her life, bending to the will of others as easily as the wind bends the grass. The day she made her vow of silence had seen her near her breaking point as she looked helplessly at what the world had become, the strong and the blind recklessly leading the small and the weak. But now she would have power! Power that had been twenty years in the making, festering away in that little cabin in the woods. Power that she was ready to unleash upon the world.
Through secret written instructions to two close friends she had arranged for an event to be held which would grant her access to plenty of ears and minds. Minds in which she could plant her seeds and confidently watch them take root, the tendrils of her twenty-year thoughts creeping through the cracks and crevices of their hosts brains, becoming ever more firmly rooted until they were intractable part of the host mind, indistinguishable from any previous thoughts or ideas.
It would be foolish of anyone to think, however, that no one else had noticed.
As she lay in her cot, deep in the dark recesses of the forest, attempting to fall asleep before the Day of Speaking, she was quite unaware that halfway across the country the final preparations were being made for her assassination. A few higher-ups in the government were quite aware of the extreme dangers of this kind of power and had no intentions of letting it go unchecked. Although they had been sequestering small groups of soldiers for years in order to create a counter-attacking team of mute power speakers, the surest way to solve this problem was to pass a piece of lead through her head before she got the chance to raise a veritable army with the power of her words. No one person should have that much power, that much influence, and they had been paying special attention to her in the past ten years. She knew that tonight would be her last night in the forest, and they knew it too.
| 2015-10-07T21:02:40 | 2015-10-07T21:02:09 | 29 | 19 |
[WP] Katy t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m, looks back over what she wrote ten years later
Here is the original copy pasta
hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up spork my name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me _… im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol…neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!!
DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again _^ hehe…toodles!!!!!
love and waffles,
t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m
|
The waffle iron hissed as she poured the batter. As she closed the iron and tapped the handle four times, the tea kettle began to whistle and Katy turned her attention to the second part of her weekend morning ritual. Waffles and Irish Breakfast tea never got old.
She smiled ruefully as the memory of the summer after 8th grade came unbidden. Her motto at the time was to live life as randomly as possible. Silly cartoons, passionate teenage love affairs that ended as quickly as they started, and far too much time spent on the internet.
And here she was now, 10 years later, existing in a series of routines from which she could not escape. Her mind went to the moment it all changed. Her family, gone forever. Her life, destroyed. It had taken a lot of time for her to live a semblance of a normal life. The scar that remained manifested in four taps on handles and knobs, checking locks and alarms precisely four times before any sort of feeling any sort of assurance that they were set, and the incessant fear that someone would break in.
The ding of the waffle iron broke Katy from yet another spiral of obsessive thoughts. She sighed and put her mug down, tapping the handle four times.
|
Katy's heart ached. Feelings of sadness and pain as she remembered her care free youth, full of unexpected and unpredictable wonder. All gone now. Only the pain remained. It was clear.
_____
"Single gun shot wound to the chest. Pistol lying on her stomach..."
^(*shutter click*)
"I've got a bag, pass it here."
^(*shutter click*)
"One casing too."
^(*shutter click*)
"The door's fine. Doesn't look jimmied."
"... GSR all over her chest and hands..."
^(*shutter click*)
"Windows are shut and locked."
"... We'll need the ME to confirm but I think it's pretty clear... Women... even in suicide they worry 'bout their looks.
^(*shutter click*)
"Huh?"
"She shot herself in the heart. Men tend to shoot themselves in the head. Women don't."
"..."
"Yea, I've had enough of this too. I'm going back to get started on the paper work, coming?
_____
The white lines passed through Katy's headlights one at a time. There was a still hole in her heart, but at least she got to share it with the one she loved. Mexico is lovely this time of year.
| 2014-11-19T10:12:48 | 2014-11-19T09:04:44 | 60 | 31 |
[WP] Everyone is now born with only one feeling. It is possible to kill another person to obtain their feeling.
|
I sat, knees to my chest, shuddering at the screams outside. When I was young, I'd been placed in a Complex Complex, a gated community for those of us with more "involved" feelings than others. Some got happiness, sadness, the simple things. Others got relief, longing, or hunger - a myriad of conflicting feelings, a gold mine for any Hunter.
I had gotten anxiety.
I spent my days and nights terrified of life, of consequences, of my thoughts. I frequently wondered what it would be like to kill someone for joy or relief, before anxiety took over and paralyzed me. Just the idea of watching someone's eyes glaze off, then lose their light... My chest constricted and I couldn't bear the weight I knew a murder would bring.
But now it was kill or be killed - Hunters had broken into the Complex, and were killing anyone they could get to. Outside of the closet I was hiding in, I could hear people I'd grown up alongside dying, positive, negative, no matter their feeling. I knew, even with such a heavy feeling, everyone would want me.
The footsteps in the hall came first. Loud, rapid, filled with purpose. The door to my room kicked open, wood cracking to allow entry. The steps ended right in front of the closet, where I did everything to silence my shuddering breath.
The slow creak of my unkept hinges signalled the Hunter's entry, grinning at his prize.
"Been looking for you, Bun," he smiled, raising his carving knife.
"I..." Tears welled up behind my eyes, before I lifted my handgun, holding the barrel straight with my other hand, squeezing my eyes as I squeezed the trigger.
I watched him crumple in front of me, bullet lodged in his forehead.
A feeling of sick pride washed over me, sociopathic at the least, revelling in the act I had just committed.
I was ready for a Hunt.
|
Hate was what I was born with. That was the only thing I felt. Before I killed someone.
His name was Mattias. He was the person I killed, due to my hate. He showed me love, he gave me something called "happiness". But I was hesitant all the time. I hated him. I only had hate inside of myself. We kissed, we started dating. But I didn't know about *my* feelings.
And that was until I saw him give love to others. He was kind to others. He loved all persons, just like Christ and God. But my feelings became clear to me. I hated him. It was a form of jealousy. I killed the people he loved. Of course though, I got their feelings too. But all they felt was unhappiness and emptiness. That was why they were pitied, because of their unhappiness and poverty. And that's what I received when I killed them: unhappiness. That deepened my feeling of hate. I started hating Mattias even more. I absolutely detested him.
Then, I chose to kill him. I still remember his words when I had murdered him: "You will regret this." I had only laughed at him in disbelief. I was getting revenge. It was putting my hate into action.
And then, I got the feeling he had owned: love. I did regret it. I realized I'd loved him and hated him. He made me jealous and gave me the feeling of love, which I did not want. I loved him though. He gave me a world of care and happiness.
Finally, I made a decision on my perspective. I hated *myself*. If I hadn't killed him, I wouldn't receive love. If I hadn't first met him, I wouldn't hate him either. The only one to hate is myself.
| 2015-04-01T13:09:44 | 2015-04-01T12:02:39 | 64 | 14 |
[WP] You recently saved a fox from certain death. It has come back to you over and over again, bringing gifts. The gifts have gotten stranger, and more mysterious over time.
|
>**FARMS & THE FORSAKEN FABLE**
I was not, by trade, a farmer- yet I found myself, day in and day out, working with *and* for the farmers.
Why? Because if I didn't, I may have *literally* died from boredom.
Shortly after joining the Royal Guard, I was shoved into a dark room and asked a series of questions. I must have answered very, very poorly, because I was selected to be a 'quiet agent' member of the Guard...which translated, roughly, to 'go off to an obscure village on the far end of the Territory and stay there 'til we say otherwise.'
I wondered- had a offended someone? Had I farted on a Sergeant in the change room during training one day? What had I done to deserve this?
I had been anticipating a challenging and fulfilling career- chasing after thieves and brigands, doing counter-intelligence, maybe a few seductions of important enemies. Something...glamorous.
This was anything but- though I wasn't *hating* it here. I didn't loathe my days, it was just very far from what I'd thought I'd signed up for.
Every morning I reprised my situation- shortly after the local rooster crowed before the sunrise. Nothing like a rude awakening to make you consider fleeing the army.
After deciding I preferred my head on my shoulders, I'd head out to the town, quietly and inconspicuously patrol, speak with the town vendors, keep an eye out for trouble. There was never any trouble.
From that point on, there wasn't anything important to do, so I started helping the farmers. It started with a very nice old lady who was too short to put up her stall to sell her fruits and vegetables- then her husband offered me some coin for helping with his pigs, and everything sort of snowballed from there.
Now, I didn't even don my armor before I left my cabin. I wore overalls.
"You're starting to fit in 'round here, ay, Desmond?" Farmer Jorn joked as he passed me by.
"Oh, give it a few winters, maybe my hat will be as frayed and outdated as yours." I responded with a small grin.
One thing I'd learned about the locals- if you could banter with them, you would be treated like family. If you were formal, you'd be ostracized.
Jorn laughed as he departed down the muddy street.
I continued on my walk, planning on purchasing the fresh-baked bread Matilda made and pairing it with some eggs from the market. I already had meat and cheese in my bag.
I didn't end up making it to Matilda's for bread that day.
As I rounded a corner in the road, I heard rustling from within the tall grass. Instinctively, my hand wrapped around the knife I kept hidden against the small of my back- I may not have had armor, but only a fool travels without at least a knife.
I crept a little closer, unsure- was there a child playing, or perhaps a nasty critter that needed culling?
To my surprise, there was a fox thrashing about, its leg caught in a root. It looked malnourished. It must have been stuck here for a while, given the markings on the ground.
"Jorn, you must be going deaf." I said.
Moving deftly, I clamped one gloved hand over the fox's mouth- which it did not love- and then I dug out the dirt surrounding the root, and pulled the trapped leg free, which it did seem to love.
The fox did not flee immediately. As soon as its leg was free, the fox ceased struggling in my grasp, and instead craned its neck to look me in the face.
I let it go and jumped back, to give it space, and protect my fingers.
Instead of nipping at me, the fox seemed to bow, then fled.
It was odd- but not odd enough for me to puzzle all day about it.
Before I reached the bakery, the 'sold out' sign went up in the window. Shame.
Chewing on meat and cheese, I continued my routine, and finished my day early, only helping with farmer's chores for a few hours before returning home. If all I did was act like a farmer, I'd be *fighting* like a farmer.
Just next to my cabin, I'd cleared a large patch of grass for myself. It was covered on all sides by much, much larger grass, and so I felt I had a bit of privacy.
I laid out my weapons and propped up some target dummies.
First, I practiced basic conditioning. Weighted cardio, flexibility, and strength. Just enough to get warmed up.
Then I ran through my weapons- lodging throwing knives inside the dummy's skull, marking its leather with a pretend blade, breaking a few arrows on its thick hide.
I was still in good shape. Perhaps not my peak, but good.
I laid down in the grass to enjoy the warm sun for a while, and accidentally slipped off into a restless nap.
When I awoke, I found myself once again face-to-face with a fox.
"Um. Hello." I said, trying to prevent myself from grabbing it by the tail and throwing it off my chest.
It didn't respond, obviously. It did, however, nudge towards me a small handful of...something.
I looked at the offering- these were peanuts.
"Where in the hell did you get these? Peanuts don't grow here." I chuckled. Must've raided the private pantry of the local lord.
I gave the fox some more meat, sure that this was the same I'd seen earlier, and went inside to write the daily report- not that there was much to say.
The season continued on, and the fox continued to visit me. Winter was beginning to approach, so I made a small space for the fox and filled it with hay- just in case.
The gifts it brought me got stranger, however. Peanut- which is what I had decided to name the fox- brought me scraps of cloth, then a hat, then more food, though this time it was meat that I couldn't be sure was pork, beef, or chicken...I didn't end up using it, either- then, finally, the day came when Peanut brought me a knife.
I held the knife in my hands, and trembled.
I was not new to danger, but this was something worse than that.
This knife was branded with the sigil of the House of Zentach.
Zentach was our very, very militaristic neighbor, which my village was nearly on the border of.
If Peanut had found me a knife of theirs- and, in particular, a knife that belonged to one of their *nobles*...it meant only one thing.
Invasion.
I knew my letters would not be fast enough. I would have to bring this news, this threat, back to the capital itself.
I packed hastily, and brought a large sum of gold, so that I may purchase a horse.
I hesitated when I saw Peanut looking at me intently.
"I know you can't understand, but I'm leaving for a while. I'll be back. Stay hidden underneath my house if anything happens, you should be safe there."
I shook my head at myself, and began running towards the town.
Little did I know that Peanut was silently trotting behind, following me the whole way.
------------------------------------------
Let me know if you want a Pt.II!
I'll throw it onto r/nystorm_writes :)
|
# Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc 5, Part 6: Clara Olsen v.s. The Fox)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**There was precious little magic left in the modern world.** Ninety percent of the world's genies were controlled by lawyers, shooting stars were captured by satellite and locked into wish-granting loops, and anything that wouldn't bow down to the modern march of progress was chained up and locked away.
So when the strange fox showed up at my government job, I violated six terms of employment and two international treaties by letting it go when no-one was looking.
In hindsight, I'm not sure why I did it. I mean, obviously, I wanted to save the poor, quivering thing from Frederick's vivisectionists. I'm an empath; standing up for the abused and downtrodden is sort of my *thing*.
But I'd gotten on the bad side of the U.S. government before, and I'd gotten squashed like a bug. Chances were, the fox would get caught again, filled with tranquilizer darts and lashed to a table so any useful properties it had could be exploited for the growth of the economy. And if they found out I'd done it? Maybe the same fate laid in store for me.
"So that's why you've got to bugger off and never come back, okay?" I whispered, holding the little red fox's paw through the window. She almost felt sapient to my empath's senses—I sensed her gratitude to me and frustration at sending her away. "They catch me with you and we're done for."
The fire-red fox darted through the window, her glossy coat shimmering as she did. Snarling at a poster cheerily telling me to REPORT ANY SUPERNATURAL ACTIVITY, she leapt on the cheaply-printed face of my employer and tore it apart.
I laughed. "Yeah. If only you could do that to the real thing." I paused. "Wait, *did* you just do that to the real thing?" It wasn't an unreasonable question; voodoo dolls and the like had existed for millennia, and although hexes were mostly monopolized by the military, I wouldn't be surprised if some random fox held the last vestiges of a two-thousand-year-old magical tradition.
Sadly, the fox shook her little head in response, her ears going *pitter-patter* as they flopped off her skull. I took her paw in mine again, feeling her emotions flood through me. Stubborn gratitude flowed from her to me.
"I get that you're grateful. I saved you, I understand. I don't charge for my services." I chuckled. "A younger, more naïve me would've asked you to vote me into office. But I think I'm past the point where I think joining the government will change it for the better."
The fox sneezed. I wasn't sure how intelligent she was, but I got the feeling she didn't understand elections, politics, or the complex course of actions that had led me to where I was today.
"So shoo. Why were you even here in the first place?" I gently picked her up and placed her on the windowsill. "Go on. And avoid the cameras; I told you were the blind spots were, yeah?"
The fox did not move.
I closed my eyes. "There's nothing you can do for me. Just leave."
I heard a *thump* from the windowsill.
I leaned back, eyes still closed, weight settling into my body. I'd made deals with genies and supervillains and demons alike and never lost my confidence—but in the end, it wasn't any supernatural being that had trapped me. It was the gradual death of magic, everything I loved and protected packed into boxes and locked away. Better for everyone that the fox stayed away from me, just like everyone el—
Claws scrabbled at the window, and my eyes flew open.
"What're you doing here, you silly little—" I paused, looking at what she held in her mouth. A small, plastic box, covered with dirt and grime until it was opaque. I absently scritched the fox's head, taking the box from her mouth.
It was Tupperware.
I swallowed, throat suddenly tight. The empathic link went both ways; the fox whined in sympathy. "You don't need to bring me gifts. You don't need to *do* anything for me. Don't you get it? They are the monsters. I am the woman who stops the monsters. And you are the victim who goes free. Never thanking me. Never looking back. Living your life as you should."
The fox leapt out the window, vanishing behind her tail. Moments later, she returned, a cheap child's costume in her mouth. A two-faced mask.
Memory swelled up inside me, and I snapped, "Yeah. I saved her too. And *she. Left. Too.* Like you should. Like you *will*."
The fox tilted her head, then jumped onto my shoulder, tearing a lock of hair from my scalp with her teeth. Before I could react, she darted back down, placing it next to the Tupperware and the mask, the reminders of people I'd protected. People who'd been saved. People who'd *deserved* to be saved. And the damn fox had the gall to put my hair next to them?
I clenched my fists. "I don't need to be saved. I *can't* be saved. Not by me, and not by you."
The fox spun in a circle, and between one spin and the next there was a paper rolled up in her mouth. She dropped it on the floor and let it unroll.
It was an image of me, smiling, captioned: *Vote CLARA OLSEN for Mayor! Every vote counts!* *Together, we can do this.*
I squeezed my eyes shut. "Stop it. Shut up. You don't know anyth—*ow!*"
The fox nipped my arm, forcing my eyes open, and looked me in the eyes. A horribly ancient sorrow, deeper and broader than any animal had any right to, pulsed from her heart and into mine.
The fox I'd saved licked the tears from my cheek.
"I can't," I whispered. "If I asked them for help... if I asked *you* for help... they'd give it. They'd spend their lives for me. They'd die for me. I would be free. And everything I'd spent my life doing would unravel in an instant."
The fox curled up in my lap.
She felt warm.
There were no grand magics, no mighty weapons, no clashes between heroes and villains. No sacrifices, and no blood.
But for one ephemeral instant, the fox set me free.
A.N.
"Bargain Bin Superheroes" is an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day.
| 2022-02-06T16:24:25 | 2022-02-06T16:19:33 | 191 | 27 |
[WP] It turns out humanity was the first, and only spacefaring species to master the atom. After a horrific galactic war, humanity had to bring out its nuclear weapons, to the shock and horror of the rest of the galaxy.
|
Only a human could be this mad. For millions of years the Galactic Federation of The Milkyway (GFM for short) had known about nuclear power but since it was not abundant outside of Earth we never thought to use it as a power source. Instead we had just propelled our solar energy techniques to be able to create power out of even the slightest amount of heat. We never could have imagined what nuclear weapons could do to the universe.
We had always kept an eye on the humans, they were after all the only species not to have practical space travel yet in our galaxy. They hadn’t discovered light speed until recently so we were waiting for them to make contact when they figured out how to use it. The plan was for them to discover it and our outpost on Pluto (who’d been watching them closely this entire time) would take a ship down to greet them. What we didn’t realize was they knew about our outpost and were making preparations to destroy the entire planet as soon as they figured out how to travel at light speed. Our team barely had a chase to message the home planet before the fiery destruction blew through their souls.
Shocked, the fifteen countries of the federation took arms to go invade their planet. You had Glorxs and Jurads, natural rivals on the planet Tymes, putting an end to their civil war to help the coalition. The Federations best general even came out of retirement to avenge his brotheran who had fallen at the outpost. Blinded by rage we sent the entire armada their way: five hundred of the newest most deadly destroyers, millions of plasma bombers and fighters, all lead by the fastest planet buster ever made making its maiden voyage.
The battle lasted an hour before it was over. We had barely made it past Jupiter when their hellfire was experienced first hand. Out of the black space came missiles going so fast they barely showed up on our radars. The first one turned the planet buster into splinters. The next one hundred turned the armada into dust. Of the twenty million soldiers sent to annihilate the Humans only seven hundred came back. Their suffering was not over though as they all became sick with radiation poisoning that we often saw from people working closer to suns, mutations we hadn’t ever documented, and burns that left most people unable to move their bodies without splintering their skin.
As we take care of these few unlucky bastards we wait. We wait to see if their hellfire has chased us back home. If it has then I pray we end quicker than these unlucky few.
|
"So you split the atom and then all this crap comes flying out and it decimates entire cities?"
Robert thought being probed by the aliens was intrusive enough but this new line of interrogation was proving more uncomfortable then the intial insertion of the Probulator 9000 he was being subjected to.
"Well, yah pretty much. I mean I don't know any of the details but that's pretty much it."
Other probe administrators had left their operating stations to hear the human's tale. The concept of human warfare was by far the most intriguing and controversial discovery that came from their first visit to earth. It was decided that contact would be minimized with earth after watching war grow over the ages. When last contacted the humans spent much of their money and time and life digging trenches and exchanging small arms fire in an already unfathomably cruel act called war. But famously that war was known as "the war to end all wars" and no further progress was expected in the human art or administration of warfare. Clearly this was not the case. Baffled by the only clear progress humanity had made in generations, the Grand Inquisitor continued his data collection about this super weapon.
"Like a whole city? Like a city the size of the one we beamed you up from? A million plus men, women and children? Just gone forever. And then you can't even safely go back to the place where it happened for a hundred years?"
For a moment Robert wondered how a race of beings who had mastered intergalactic travel hadn't figured out nukes yet and began to ponder if they had ever made any tool of agression or even an act of aggression towards themselves or others. But then the Probulator 9000 zapped his mind back to the line of questioning at hand and he was forced to answer to the best of his knowledge and ability.
"Yah that's pretty much how it works. I mean I don't know how it works and I can't help build you one. Only the smartest among us using the rarest of materials and latest technology could ever..."
"Make us one?" The Grand Inquisitor shook his head. "We don't need one of those. No way do we want to take something potentially used for clean fuel and a better society and then use it to keep our people in constant fear of total annihilation. The worst thing we are ever associated with is the Probulator and I feel bad enough about that."
| 2019-12-19T05:25:06 | 2019-12-19T04:46:01 | 25 | 13 |
[WP] Aliens always respawn minutes after death. It's a common prank for aliens to kill each other for a laugh. When they discover Earth, they kill millions of humans, thinking it's a humorous way of greeting this new species, but for some reason, the humans aren't laughing...
Edit:
Thank you SO much for the 2K upvotes, as well as for the silver award!
Second Edit:
Oh my God, now it's over 4K. I seriously can't thank you all enough!
|
Death.
Something we've seen hundreds of times by the time we were younglings, most likely having experienced it ourselves by that point. Something that was so natural and normal to us that we would often kill each other for no reason other than to pull one over our comrades. Usually it would take a few minutes at most to heal from the most severe injuries and wake up with the only proof of your death being your friend's dumb smile.
That's why we made the mistake of assuming any other species we might encounter in the universe would be just like us - jaded and insensitive to death as it would have no lasting consequences.
A mistake we paid for dearly.
I'm not even sure how long it has been - 10 cycles or perhaps even 20 since we've made first contact with the specie that calls themselves "Man." We wanted to make quite the entrance so we opted to massacre an entire population centre for a practical joke, get the spirits up a bit before we moved on to the boring parts that were diplomacy.
It was then that we realized the catastrophic mistake we've made as we noticed that the dead were not healing, they were not coming back - and very soon we tasted Mankind's projectile weapons, which were capable of killing us for mere moments before we came back.
The humans were horrified at first, an enemy that cannot die, cannot be stopped and can massacre an entire city. But as they continued killing us repeatedly something changed, the horror and shock on their faces became joy, every trigger pull echoed along with a sadistic laugh. A few more deaths later me and my comrades found ourselves contained - seemingly spared from the repeated deaths at last, but this relief only lasted for a short while.
A few days later we were inserted into some kind of machine, one that would kill us in the slowest way possible only to wait for us to come back to life and do it all over again. It was then that we finally understood.
Death is a mercy not afforded to our kind.
|
Kavick trembled, cold and hot, dizzy all at the same time as the cromathophores displayed confusion, alarm and revulsion as fireworks across his skin.
The humin... or was it human? Screeched it's communication into the either as noise translations blurred into the visual spectrum.
"My offspring, my god (worship/creator/diety), what have you (singular) done, you (plural) monsters, My offspring is gone, he (gendered male) could have been anything, become so much more, (indiscriminate sorrow)"
"Confusion", Ultra-violets-blue, hex pattern 3 millimeters, "implore" yellow- dark brown gradient, "gone" white pattern flash with blue opposite 1.2 millisecond, "concern-miscommunication" interment soft green undertones.
The human eyes narrow and focus on Kavick, muscular jaw flex, increase of sholder frontal posture, blood flow and heart rate increases. ** pure hate, aggression.
Noise
" Fuck (sexual intercourse) you (singular)"
"Joyous rewards" cascading orange downwards increasing frequency with intensity, "mutual understanding" matching skin tones, soft brown with darker spotting across the pallet, "arousal" engorged flanges around the ocular membrane.
Fast motion, human movement
Kavick displayed great respect with his front three teeth, wiggeling in mirth as his life drained from the stab wound in the upper thalnex.
As the cortex reassembled in the gestation pod,
"Such great humor" this humin had displayed. Kavick resolved to kill its offspring again, maybe this time the human would follow through on its promise of fornication.
| 2022-08-13T21:56:58 | 2022-08-13T20:38:57 | 1,573 | 253 |
[WP] "my lord, i know you are the demon lord and iam but a lowly advisor, but please listen to me. I suggest that instead of sending the hero slightly stronger demons to kill each time, we just send the strongest one right away"
|
"And that is the reason you are the lowly advisor while I'm the demon lord", the demon replied "No mortal man or weapon of man may slay me, only a true hero who's strength edges on divinity may stand a chance. Knowing this, what stops me from walking into the King of Aleria's palace at this moment, killing him, and claiming his kingdom singlehandedly"
"My sire, I do not know" the lowly advisor quivered. "Because I have no desire to conquer the human realm", the demon lord continued "I wish to ascend beyond flesh and into godhood, apotheosis is my goal. What is your level advisor?". The advisor promptly responded "122 my liege". "How many mice will you have to slaughter before you reach 123 do you think advisor?". The lord further enquired. "Well, at my level mice no longer provide experience because they pose no threat". The lord pushed on "And I have been level 999 for over 300 years now. I could slaughter every man on this planet and it would bring me no closer to 1000 than killing a mouse would bring you to 123. I need a threat to grow in experience, but there are no threats left. So I let the Gods prepare their warriors. Enhanced with divine strength and the resources of nations consumed with fear over an impeding demon invasion I will finally meet my equal. The final push of experience I require to leave the realm of mortality and tread among the gods. These heroes think their deities bless them with strength so they may overcome me and free this realm, but all they are, are meals seasoned by the Gods as they welcome me into their ranks."
|
"He's busy," says the Dark Lord.
"What?" asks the Advisor.
"Busy," repeats the Dark Lord. "He's working on taking down the Paladins of Light, who are frankly a bigger threat right now. Honestly, this new Hero is ridiculously low-level - there are much stronger heroes to deal with first. Frankly, I'm not even sure that this guy is worth sending my little guys to deal with; the only reason I'm sending them at *all* is because *they* need to level up, too."
--------------
"He's too expensive," says the Dark Lord.
"Too expensive?" asks the Advisor.
"Yeah," says the Dark Lord. "Ever since he took down the Paladins of Light he's pushed up his fees. I'll still use him where necessary, mind you, but he's *completely* not necessary against *that* little guy."
"But, your evil Greatness, you have underestimated him once before..."
"That's true. Which is why, this time, I'm going to send a mid-level guy."
--------------
"Too slow."
"Too *slow?*" asks the Advisor.
"Yeah. He's a big guy, he hits like a truck and all, but he can't flit all over the landscape like this Hero can. No, better to have the *big* guy guard me and my Evil Palace - a more or less stationary target - and send a *high* level squad after this hero."
--------------
"That's what I'm *doing!* When the Hero comes for me, he will meet my strongest demon!"
"And then what, sir?"
"And then we both pray that our guy wins, that's what."
| 2021-08-23T04:42:46 | 2021-08-23T04:29:16 | 1,202 | 177 |
[WP] Katy t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m, looks back over what she wrote ten years later
Here is the original copy pasta
hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up spork my name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me _… im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol…neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!!
DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again _^ hehe…toodles!!!!!
love and waffles,
t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m
|
The waffle iron hissed as she poured the batter. As she closed the iron and tapped the handle four times, the tea kettle began to whistle and Katy turned her attention to the second part of her weekend morning ritual. Waffles and Irish Breakfast tea never got old.
She smiled ruefully as the memory of the summer after 8th grade came unbidden. Her motto at the time was to live life as randomly as possible. Silly cartoons, passionate teenage love affairs that ended as quickly as they started, and far too much time spent on the internet.
And here she was now, 10 years later, existing in a series of routines from which she could not escape. Her mind went to the moment it all changed. Her family, gone forever. Her life, destroyed. It had taken a lot of time for her to live a semblance of a normal life. The scar that remained manifested in four taps on handles and knobs, checking locks and alarms precisely four times before any sort of feeling any sort of assurance that they were set, and the incessant fear that someone would break in.
The ding of the waffle iron broke Katy from yet another spiral of obsessive thoughts. She sighed and put her mug down, tapping the handle four times.
|
Launch codes were transmitted ten years ago.
Kewl Platypus (بلانبوس منقار البطة) received his orders in Damascus. Android Finch (นกกระจิบ) in Thailand now has landing coordinates. In popular culture time travel is precise and almost convenient. If only.
The black girls of Harlem jump in rhythm to looping ropes and this is how we among the world must do the same. To coordinate in decade long windows to change an instance some three hundred years forward, backwards, sideways. Yes, random. But how often do flightless birds make sense. Finch says he is exception. I say he is caged bird, with too much time on his hands.
Of course.
E.T. Bell said something about time and fools. Several hundred years from now what will be remembered? The outcome of some argument held online or matricide/patricide, pendulum swinging back to its center, righting itself, because the whole thing is slanted like sinking ship. Water fowl are capable of submerging far below the surface of the ice. Random, yes.
| 2014-11-19T10:12:48 | 2014-11-19T09:47:25 | 60 | 20 |
[WP] A sealed ancient evil breaks free and finds itself utterly unprepared for the modern world.
|
"I AWAKEN... FLEE, THOUGH IT IS FUTILE, FOR ONLY THROUGH YOUR FLIGHT SHALL YOU AMUSE ME..."
"Open fire, men."
A rat-at-at was heard as multiple miniguns were fired. Rockets soared from above and hit the towering being. A nuke was prepared, but not fired. Micro-devastator bombs broke a nearby mountain into shrapnel that flung itself towards the being.
As the smoke cleared, the sight of the most clearly evil being wounded and struggling to stand was a major confidence boost to the humans witnessing it.
"THE FUCK? I WAS SUPPOSED TO ENSLAVE YOU ALL FOR A MILLENIUM AT THE BARE MINIMUM! HOW ARE YOU THIS POWERFUL?"
Discussions were quickly made, then a sound system was laid in place, and a human general spoke into a microphone.
"YOU SLEPT. WE TRAINED OURSELVES WHILE YOU SLUMBERED. EVERY MOMENT OF YOUR SLUMBER, WE MOTIONED TO IMPROVE OURSELVES, IN EVERY DIRECTION. WE BATTLED OURSELVES, AND LEARNT HOW TO BE STRONG, FOR WE ARE MIGHTY."
The human general paused, then continued.
"WE ARE THE ULTIMATE BEING OF THIS WORLD, FOR IT IS OUR WORLD, WE HAVE CLAIMED IT. WE ARE GOOD AND EVIL UNITED. YOU ARE MERELY EVIL. YOU ARE WEAK FOR YOU DENY THAT WHICH MAY MAKE YOU STRONG. YOU ARE WEAK FOR YOU ARE ALONE, WHILE WE ARE MANY. YOU ARE DOOMED, SHOULD WE DEEM YOU WORTHY OF OUR WRATH."
The being gazed at human, encased as it was within an armoured suit that rivalled that of the Great Evil in size and terror.
And then it understood.
The path to total domination and power is impossible when one is focused on one path, one way, one being.
Only the many can conquer everything in the name of the whole without losing focus.
"I WILL RETURN WITH AN ARMY IN A FEW DECADES THEN..."
"YOU GO DO THAT. BYE."
The humans stood there and watched the evil being ascend into space, at an incredible speed, yet ignoring friction or moving the air at all.
"Tell me you people managed to get a reading on his propulsion method." the general stated, knowing they did.
"Yessir. We should have our first FTL capable fleet by the end of next month."
"Good. Everyone, prepare the world for an invasion in one decade. He wants a war, we will humour Him with our capabilities, and harvest their flesh for science!"
|
The wise men had thought me sealed tightly, had thought nothing would be able to set me free. The fools had not known that their prison of earth would ever be moved, let alone that it would move itself. A miniscule wind, a slow trickle of water, and finally the cursed chains of iron crumbled like so much ash. I am free of my bonds, free to corrupt the souls of men, free once again to stretch forth my will and inspire vile thoughts and wickedness. All shall bow before me, Bha-Rie, all shall fear me and know that The Dark has returned.
&nbsp;------
A pox on this world! A festering pox to bring pain and suffering! More than these pitiful mortals already feel. The souls of the weak are already forfeit, snapped up by 'ministers' and 'preachers' and other so-called holy men. They bring not cleansing light nor blessed iron and steel. They call their followers to eschew the earthly pleasures they themselves partake in abundance. There is no subtlety, no satisfaction in this! They blatantly call those that follow them sheep, then fleecing them of their meager incomes telling them that it is for the poor and downtrodden, all while growing corpulent in their excesses. Building brilliant shimmering temples in which their flock gathers, the brilliant shine of glass, the luster of lies.
I laugh, but it is bitter.
Corpulent, I too have grown such. This world is so awash in evil, at first I delighted in it! Starved from my captivity I supped upon the evils of man as a peasant gifted with a magnificent feast, so heavy the table it sits upon groans with the weight. Now, I know my folly, I did not see it for the bland repast it was. Small amounts of evil are found, like chunks of delicious swine-flesh, but they are fleeting in this tasteless sea of mediocrity.
As I walk among them, I find myself wishing once again for the familiar confines of my ancient prison. They do not fear me. I, the great Bha-Rie, once known as The Dark Made Flesh! The people of this world feared me, placed talismans to ward my magnificence away. Prayed to the gods to save them from me. I am reduced, I question my existence for the first time, I question everything. I weep, and wonder at what I have been most recently called.
I wonder: What is a neckbeard?
| 2015-02-20T08:04:43 | 2015-02-20T07:58:51 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You've been meowing at your idiot owner all freaking day, and he's just not listening, at all. It's become a test of endurance: Your patience, his willingness to ignore you, the ninja assassin's grip on the ceiling.
|
"MRAOU!"
"No, it's not time for dinner yet."
I know it's not time for dinner yet, that's not what I'm yelling about. Stupid humans, you never look UP! He's right there, and he could strike at any moment! I'm trying to help you, why won't you listen!?
"MRAOOU!"
"I know you're hungry, but you're always hungry."
I'M NOT HUNGRY!
OK, I am hungry, but that's not the point. The assassin is right there. You're in mortal danger! Maybe if I get closer to him you'll understand.
"No, off the counter! Get!"
See, he's RIGHT THER... Dangit. Look, I'm sorry about those cups, but if they break after one or two falls off the counter they're not really quality ceramic, are they? No reason to push me off. Some people just hold too much of a grudge.
What was I talking about again?
Oh, right!
"MAOU! MRAOU! MRAOU!"
"Really, you know you're not supposed to be on the counter. What's gotten into you? What are you looking at anyway?"
FINALLY! You see him, you're safe!
"Oh, do you wanna get the spider? Were you asking for a boost? C'mon, up you go!"
AHA! No assassin is going to get the best of me.
Mmmmm, crunchy assassin.
|
CAT FOOD
&#x200B;
"Don't blame this on me. I wasn't even home," said the cat.
"Well, I didn't do it and you need to eat. Please," said the kid who owned him.
"But I can't eat food off the floor." They both stared at the bowl, all its food slapped across the low cabinets and onto the floor.
"Yes you can. We talked about this."
"But-but, I won't- I don't want to eat food off the floor. You need to scoop it all up for me. These are the rules. I only eat food from the bowl. These are the rules. The rules.
"Are you screwing with me? You slap it all over the place just to watch me scoop it all up? Let me see your paws."
"They're clean, I'm clean. You need to reexamine this whole thing, okay? I don't like being accused of doing something I know I haven't done. And I'm hungry. So that problem needs to be solved too. So scoop. Come on."
"Why did you do this?"
"Have you considered you might have kicked the bowl?"
The kid thought for a moment. When he got water an hour ago he remembered touching--no, hitting something...
"You know, I might have done that," said the kid.
"See?"
"Yeah...Yeah, I definitely kicked it. Damn."
| 2021-09-01T08:46:26 | 2021-09-01T06:11:29 | 1,661 | 36 |
[WP] a story in which the protagonist (and reader) doesn't realize until the end that they are the "bad guy"
|
When my sister was 11, she was a huge bully. My parents would fawn over her, she'd get the best coloring books and they let her play with all my toys, no matter what I said, even though she was older than me! In all my classes, the older siblings had to do what the younger sibilings wanted, not the other way around. It was so unfair.
So one time I just took her favourite toy away, when my parents were out (this was very rare) and my babysitter wasn't watching. Why did she always get to play with it? I gave her my colouring book instead and promised I'd be back in 5 minutes. She was sleeping anyways, so it was fine. She may have woken up while I was leaving, but it's okay, older siblings should be nice to their younger ones.
I went to the living room and pretended I was fighting Batman when my parents came home. My mom's face went pale and she ran upstairs. My dad was furious, and ripped the toy out of my hands before running after her.
It turns out my sister was seriously sick and that was her oxygen mask. She died in her sleep that night.
|
She didn't want to go on the trip, but he knew she would love the experience. It took him years, but he finally convinced her to go on the journey of a lifetime with him.
They were about to begin their flight, and she was starting to have second-thoughts. She was afraid of heights. He wanted to share this experience with the love of his life more than anything. He forced her to come with him.
At first the flight was unsettling. She was terrified and he was even a little anxious. Then the turbulence stopped and absolute bliss set in. The endless sea of blue, only interrupted by plump heavenly clouds, was exhilarating. He never wanted to come down. It was perfect. Him and his lover in their sky-high paradise. He wanted to stay their forever.
The perfection was interrupted by her coughing. It was a violent cough, and he looked in to his lover's beautiful blue eyes with genuine concern. The coughs transitioned into garbled chokes. She began convulsing violently and her chest started heaving. He tried to help her, but he was paralyzed.
He eventually landed. She never did.
| 2015-04-16T20:04:26 | 2015-04-16T19:43:07 | 113 | 34 |
[WP] Zombie apocalypse has happened. The survivours have survived and are thriving, so much that people can go their entire lives with out seeing a zombie. You see one today.
|
Michael shuffled in the door, arms laden with bags of food, looking haggard.
"What's wrong, honey?" his wife asked, helping him remove his torn jacket. Michael didn't respond at first. "What happened?" Michael shook his head slowly.
"I saw one of...them, Donna." She screamed and dropped his coat, fumbling to pick it up. She stood slowly, terror written all over her face.
"If there's one..." Donna whispered.
"...There's more. Yeah." Michael dropped the bags on the table, reached out with both arms and pulled Donna in.
"So did you...you know...take care of it?" asked Donna.
"What do you think's in the bags?" Michael responded slyly. Donna squealed with joy.
"Darling! We haven't had human in ages!"
|
I wasn't sure it was a real zombie at first. After humanity had pulled through, inevitably some were tasteless enough to exploit our collective terror by putting on makeup to scare people. This had gotten less common after a couple well-publicized incidents of fake zombies getting shot in self-defense, but it was still a thing. Then, the Zombie made that sound. The sound that a human can only make if its vocal chords have rotted away due to the virus. I had only heard it before on audio tape, which still wasn't enough to prepare me. In that moment, I felt face-to-face with my own mortality. I felt both alive and dead at once, and knew I couldn't let death win out.
I turned and jogged away.
| 2015-03-14T09:22:31 | 2015-03-14T08:55:55 | 120 | 14 |
[WP] People believe the Gods decide all of our fates, but they've actually been rolling d20s to make decisions for millions of years
|
Quetzalcoatl was pissed. The rolls were not going his way of late.
"Perception. Sense Motive. Diplomacy."
One. One. Two.
"NO. COME ON!!!"
Across the table, God yawned.
Tenochtitlan's doors were thrown open, and Spanish Conquistador Hernán Cortés stroked his beard and strolled into the heart of the Aztec Empire.
The DM rolled behind a shimmering screen. "Ooooh... so, Quetzalcoatl, roll Fortitude."
Quetzalcoatl's feathers flared in agitation. "What? WHY?"
"Smallpox."
A blank stare. "You kidding me?"
God smirked.
"Why doesn't he have to do it?"
"We dealt with that one already. Immune, bro."
"Don't call me bro, *bro*." Quetzalcoatl rolled again. Quetzalcoatl swore again.
.
Down on the Mortal Plane, Moctazuma II looked out a portal at the torrential downpour. "Helluva storm, boys. Are our guests comfortable?"
One of his honour guard took a step forward. "Their needs are accounted for."
"Good. It pleases me to treat Quetzalcoatl so well."
.
And above, Quetzelcoatl moaned about using Wisdom as a dump stat on his faction leader.
God, meanwhile, prepared to roll Initiative.
r/StanWrites
|
Hands shaking. Sweaty forehead. At this exact moment in time, he knows that all of his hard work, all of his investments, are up in the air. There has never been a more at stake.
For a brief moment, he questions his methods. Surely he shouldn't leave such an important decision, with human possible human extinction, to chance.
"I will never intervene again." He hangs his head distraught, those words have never haunted him to such a severity. He reaches for the die, but pauses.
"If I can't keep my promises, how could I fairly cast judgment on others? If I can't remain righteous, how can I expect that of the mortals?"
He grabs yet a second die.
"I'll let the die decide: 10 or lower I leave it to fate, higher and I decide."
A single tear emerges as he prepares the second die that absolutely must be rolled now; feels like it has infinite weight.
He breaths in deeply, closes his eyes, and throws the die with a purpose that hasn't been seen in a millennia.
"That's it then, may...I...have mercy on their souls."
Tears follow. Mistakes were made, regrets were had.
----------------------------
"And the results are in! Donald Trump is the 45th President of the United States!"
r/Promptfeces
| 2018-06-28T11:34:25 | 2018-06-28T11:27:51 | 276 | 22 |
[WP] When the alien fleet arrived to conquer Earth, they were shocked to find the planet defended by all sorts of supernatutal creatures who called the planet home. Wizards, vampires, ghosts, fae, dragons and so on. The humans were even more shocked, because they didn't even know they were real.
|
While the armies of the world were still in discussions about who would lead and what their strategy would be, the aliens launched their first attack. We had all said our goodbyes by then, all of humans expecting to go the way of the dinosaurs.
But the attack failed. Their cannon, the size of a a large comet and twice as fast, crumbled before hitting the exosphere. Then their ships started to come closer. We expected it to be fast, but they moved closer at a snails' space, their machinery and body suits slowly adjusting to Earth's gravity, blasting away any fighter jet or nuclear missile that tried to oppose their entry.
We thought we had just been lucky with their first attack. Then they entered the stratosphere, and all the ships started to malfunction. I could see them from my backyard decks, the ships jerking out of their slow crawl to the Earth's surface and cart-wheeling across the sky, hitting other ships, careening to the ground.
My wife stepped into the backyard with her glass of cabarnet. We were exhausting our wine cellar of our best wines as we wait for the invasion. She took her seat on the wicker patio chair opposite mine and looks up. The sky was our entertainment most days. It was useless hearing the doomsday news broadcasts when I could see it live.
"The poltergeists got 'em, huh."
I looked away from two ships colliding, at my wife.
"Babe?"
"I'm going to join the war tomorrow."
It was a strange thing to hear from my interior designer wife. She's a hundred pounds and five feet tall, bird-boned with a slight frame. My wife was a pacifist, a vegetarian, and all things I thought were the antonyms of a soldier.
"Lucy, what are you talking about?"
"You're wondering why they haven't killed us yet, aren't you?" she asked. She cleared her throat. "It's because of our counterattacks."
"All our counterattacks have failed, Lucy. We saw it on the news."
"Not *your* counterattacks, Jamie. *Ours*."
When I still didn't understand, she pointed up. "The initial cannon was destroyed by a coven of witches. Now, their ships have been invaded by poltergeists. The second the ships hit the ground, I'll be ready to fight them."
I saw the footage of one of the fallen ships and the recovered alien body. The aliens were each the size of an SUV, and my waifish wife wanted to fight them. I gently took the glass of wine out of her hand. It was unlikely psychiatrists were still taking appointments with the apocalypse ahead, but I could keep her safe at home.
"Let's go to bed early for today," I suggested. The glass flew out of my hand and back into hers.
"Let's talk, Jamie."
The glass floated away from her and to the coffee table. She leaned back and closed her eyes. The changes were clear the second they started to happen. Her skin took on a more golden tone and her features became more pointed. Her ears peeked out from beneath her blonde hair which was quickly turning baby pink. She took off her shirt and wings unfurled from her back.
"You're a fairy," I whispered.
"I'm a pixie," she said.
It was real, then. Her wings were beautiful, and I resisted the urge to reach out and touch them. Lucy stood up and turned around.
"I'm off to fight tomorrow," she said. "Everyone will find out that magical people and creatures have been here all along soon enough."
"You're serious," I half-asked.
Lucy didn't change back until she left the house. I woke up to a cloud of pink curls, the tip of an ear brushing my chin. The wings had disappeared for the moment. It was okay. Lucy was still Lucy. From outside, I heard boom after boom.
It was like the air show we went to in Boston. Things were breaking the sound barrier.
"Lucy," I said, waking her up. I didn't want to let her go, but she made it clear it was not my decision. She got ready and a car appeared at our doorstep, ready to take her to their headquarters.
The neighbor from next door hobbled onto our front porch as I watched her disappear from view. He was normally an antisocial old man, looking at us through the parted shades of his windows if there was too much noise and rarely venturing out of the house. It seemed the end of the world changed a lot of things.
"It's alright, Jamie," he said. "If all else fails, we still have the leviathans and the kaijus."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
*for more stories by me, go to* r/xeuthis
|
A story I tried to write in third person. I think it was appropriate using this perspective. Kind of struggled writing this. Any advice would help. Thank you:
The world came to a screeching halt. In every television, radio and social media. Otherworldly beings came to introduce themselves to humanity. Demanding the complete surrender of Earth and its people to their military force. Everyone thought it was a joke, a marketing ploy for a movie. The most expensive advertisement campaign in history.
But it was no joke. Soon the aliens contacted every major governmental body on Earth. The UN, USA, China and Russia to discuss the terms of Earths surrender. Panic ensued in every city in the world. Others cried, some stayed with their families, and many quit their jobs to pursue their hobbies and dreams to what could be their last time being able to do so.
Every military force was mobilised and put-on stand-by. The assets of the military-industrial complex laid bare against the alien threat. Soon, everyone was sent back to their homes. Humanity listened intently to the aliens. Everyone was glued to their screens and radios. Waiting. Waiting for their demands.
The aliens spoke. Coldly proclaiming that humanity must become slaves to their empire. In exchange for their freedom, they keep their lives. Obviously, humanity declined. They were too proud and stubborn to accept those terms.
These were the thoughts that came through Bob’s head as him and his friend hunkered down at a nearby apartment. Their spirits broken by the enemy. They saw firsthand the futility of fighting against a force with unimaginably superior technology. Their bullets barely worked against the enemy and they suffered heavy losses. It didn’t help much that the tanks that were sent in to deal with the tripods ended up being near useless against them.
“We’re fucked aren’t we”, said Fred.
Yeah, we’re definitely fucked. Bob thought. Lighting a cigarette, he puts it in his mouth before lighting one for his friend. Looking out of the second-floor balcony to assess the situation. He sees the tripods walk in droves in the distance. While jets burned and crashed into the ground. Unable to out manoeuvre the saucers which moved independently from Earth’s gravity. Looking down, they see the aliens roaming the streets. Numbering around a hundred from what they can see. Looking for targets they could blast with their plasma guns. The aliens moved on towards their position. It was only a matter of time before they found them.
“Damn, look at them walking around like they own the place”, Fred said with smoke coming out of his mouth.
“Out of the thirty that came with us. There’s only us left.”, Bob said shakily. Taking another puff out of his cigarette to try and calm down his nerves. Fred chuckled at Bob’s show of cowardice. Slapping him at the back it made Bob jolt. Nearly making him drop his cigarette down towards the ground floor.
“Come on, man. Isn’t this what we imagined was gonna happen when we got deployed. A final stand against those bastards. Die Hard style!”.
Looking at his friend. Bob knew that Fred was just trying to make the best out of a bad situation. He knew that he was just as afraid and hopeless as he was. But maybe out of hysteria or insanity. He wanted to entertain the idea. A final bang before their inevitable demise.
“Your right, Fred. Let’s take as many of those alien scum with us.” Bob said with a smile on his face.
Taking their rifles and grenades. They were determined to die in the blaze of glory. They were examples of humanities sheer will and determination against insurmountable odds. But before they could execute their suicidal plan.
Portals from another world glowed a blue hue in the sky and ground near their position. Wizards came rushing out of the portals along with creatures of myth and legend. This left the aliens surprised. Expecting the humans to have inferior technology compared to their own. Let alone the fact that the stories passed on by humans from generation to generation were true.
Fred and Bob looked towards the commotion caused by the wizards. They saw aliens get frozen, squashed and burned by men conjuring things from nowhere using glowing staves. In the air, dragons and all manner of flying fantasy creatures flew gracefully against the alien’s saucers. A portal then forms in front of the two men and out comes an old man. He had a long beard and wore a robe coloured in the pattern of military camouflage.
“This is arch-wizard Lucian of the 69th Battalion Corp of the Magic Division. We have come to help. Tell us the situation soldiers”, the old man said in a serious voice.
Bob and Fred look on dumbfounded from the situation that is transpiring right now. The only words that could come out of their mouths were.
“Who the fuck are you?”
| 2021-02-21T00:36:26 | 2021-02-20T21:03:16 | 30 | 21 |
[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
|
The person before me took my idea. She had no idea that dying of old age meant they would accelerate time for her. Now that I saw that, I can't make the same mistake. There has to be a way out of here, a loophole.
You'll find one like you always do, I kept thinking that to myself. I wasn't a stranger to this business, but usually I wasn't involved with magic. The payment was good but too risky.
"Marcus Spades, how would you like to die?" The hooded man said. He held a weapon that changed into many weapons. The hood had golden details, his body was hidden by shadows. If anything he was good at this. I could feel the chills creeping up my body.
"I need a second."
"You have one minute." His weapon changes to a whip. I'm not sure how but I feel he enjoyed those who took their time and never decided.
Time! That's it, their laws are bound by time and space here. If I can get them to try to execute me in some other place far from this world maybe I have a chance. I start laughing, I might have finally lost it. "I wish to die in a time space rift between worlds."
The executioners weapon changes into a cellphone. "I need help. Yes, it's another crazy guy. Yeah, he wants the slowest most painful death in existence. Thanks, I'll wait for you to start the ritual."
I fall into my knees. That gamble sounds like the worst one I've taken. Although that one that included stealing from the governments and 'donating' it was close second, by the time they figured out I cheated on that table it was too late.
Four hooded men or women appear. They point wands to the floor under me. A circle of light engulfs me. One moment I see them, the other I see everything and nothing at the same time.
I look around and I see more figures. More mes. The one closest to me waves, the but the others scream in agony and pain.
"Why are they screaming?"
"We are trapped between time and space. We have access to all information at the same time and our brains can't handle it."
This wasn't what I thought would happen. My pupils have widened. I have to escape. I can't let this happen to me! "How can we escape?"
"You would have to touch an opening. But they are always just barely far away to not be reached."
My fingers reached out but never quite made it to any of the images passing by. My body is sweating but it's not. I can't feel the droplets on my skin. Nor the tears from my eyes.
In the distance growls and screeches of despair. How many of me are here? When will this all end? I look towards the other side and a new me comes in. Repeating the scene that just happen over and over and over again.
| 2021-06-24T09:55:49 | 2021-06-24T07:17:41 | 803 | 181 |
[WP] A father gets sucked into the world of his son's favorite video game and has to rely on his meager knowledge of it to survive.
|
Getting harder to remember.
Damn! Just thought I'd try my sons PlayBox to see what all the fuss is about, then bang, these things must be more advanced than I thought.
Getting harder to remember...
I need to get out of here, but how? This world seems real enough, I should speak to someone here to see if they know, maybe they're even another person stuck like me!
Why was I here again?
I walk over to a tall woman in a labcoat, maybe this is one of those Mario's my son is always talking about. She tells me she's a scientist, perfect! Just the sort of person who could help.
"What are your plans for experimentation today Sir?"
Sir? Well this is my laboratory isn't it?
No! Im trapped! Must.. Remember...
"Caroline, it.. is Caroline isnt it?"
She nods.
"Just Science Caroline!" I boom, I feel bad for raising my voice, its not like me.. or is it?...
No! Remember.. She's just one of those computer characters!
Isn't She?
Struggling to hold onto that memory I shout out, "Somehow Ive suddenly been teleported here, dedicate some science to that!"
I may not remember who I am, but I know when life gives you lemons, you make life take the lemons back.
edit:Grammar
Thanks for all the comments and upvotes people! :)
|
*"You can't fucking pause" my ass* thought the man as he stormed into his son's room.
"Minions have spawned"
*What the fuck?*. He wondered where he was. None of the landscape seemed familiar, except for the sky. All he could see was his son's face and the back of the room. However, he was still stuck nonetheless.
"You better pause this damn thing right now boy and go study for APUSH." He could practically hear his son shitting himself when he saw his own father rather than the character he chose, while at the same time saying it couldn't be paused.
Something, or someone, then caught the father's eye. A scantily lady in a red robe like dress and what looked like tails was nearby, glancing at him occasionally with a seductive smile on her face. With a grin on his face, he approached her, with obvious intent to get in her pants.
*If this doesn't get him to pause the damn thing then nothing will. That'll teach him a lesson about pausing his shit when he needs to.*
Later that night, the mother of the boy weeped when her husband was nowhere to be found during the power outage, the son with a stoic expression, trying to forget what had unfolded before his eyes before he thought to trip the circuit breaker.
*Another fucking series lost, huh?*
| 2015-05-07T22:29:57 | 2015-05-07T22:25:19 | 770 | 204 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
|
Elephants are big but this one is unique. Almost the size of the sun but blue. He's flying, without wings obviously.
Ninjas everywhere. This poor man is surrounded by them, he will never make it out alive. Or maybe they are protecting him?
The most simple garden in the world. One huge flower. I wonder if it's harder to take care of one big flower or a bunch of small ones?
''Sorry I kept you waiting Mr. Price. You can sit now, we'll discuss your son's recent behavior...''
Her voice drew my attention away from the kids drawings on the wall. Teachers - Parents meetings, always a pleasure to attend them.
|
I am the most important person. I'm happy when I hear something from the outside world - talking, musik, anything. Then I know that I am not alone. It's always dark here, but warm. I know, that I have to leave this place soon, though I don't want to. They wait for me to come, they are very curious about me. The world revolves around me, after all. I am her and she is me.
When I finally leave, it is frightening cold. I scream because I don't understand.
The doctor says: "It's a boy!"
| 2022-09-15T12:44:53 | 2015-01-12T18:17:13 | 1,493 | 10 |
[WP] There is one Ironclad rule in the world: If you have powers, you are probably going to be a Hero or Villain. You have some extremely powerful abilities, but you said you never wanted to be a Hero. Now everybody is convinced you want to be a Villain, and won't stop trying to "save you from evil"
|
“Wh-what?” My mother stammered those words as she tripped backwards. Collapsed perhaps, was a better way to phrase it. Thankfully, my father was there to break her fall. However, deep inside a part of me wished he hadn’t been, because now the normally larger than life giant of a mother I had was eye level with me…and I could truly see how hurt she was.
“What do you mean, you don’t want to be a hero?” she gasped; her voice so soft the air practically tore through it.
I always knew this day would come, but I’d hoped it’d be in a more comfortable and intimate setting. Even though my mother deserved my full attention, I couldn’t help but steal glances around the room. At least two, no three hundred occupants were in attendance. All inhumanely quiet. So quiet, I could hear my own heart race. I’ve always hated large crowds, but it’s been clear to me for years now no cares for the opinions I have for my own life.
“Well, are you going to answer your mother?” My father chimed in, having finally propped my mother back up.
“I don’t know what there is to explain, I’ve told you repeatedly, I never wanted to be a hero.”
“Well yes, but I thought that was just a rebellious teenage phase!” He exclaimed, before glancing around and whispering to me “Heroism is what we do. Your mother, I, our parents, their parents. We serve an important role in this town. We’ve defended these people from undesirables for centuries”
But I never asked to be born into this responsibility, why can’t you understand that!...That’s what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. Instead, I glanced awkwardly at my own shoes. Like the coward I’ve always been. Me? A Hero? I had much safer, much more normal plans in mind, plans I’d be nervous to explain to them privately, much less in front of the whole town.
“You were just confused for a second, you do want to be hero don’t you” my father prompted. His voice had returned to its proud and loud tone. “Right? Hahahaha”
I continued to glance at my shoes, allowing the room to be swallowed by silence. The more silent it grew, the more interesting the curves and colors of my shoes became.
“Now this is no way to behave at a superpower reveal party! C’mon, let’s be jolly! Dave, stop harassing that girl on her special day. Let’s start slicing up that cake and figure out what this one’s power is!”
|
My name is Naomi Gallagher, and I live in a world full of powers. Everyone born in this world was usually born with a power, I’m no different, but my power is not really for one side or the other.
I call my power, Null and Void, basically I have a small area around me that, as soon as any power is activated or is used inside the area, it is completely shut off until it dissipates or the powers owner leaves my area.
Everyone at my school all want to become heroes thanks to their powers, otherwise you’ll be labeled as a villain. That’s not for me though, I was just wanting to lead a somewhat normal life.
That’s why I want to figure out how exactly I ended up in the current situation where I was being held as a hostage in a villain’s rampage of my city.
Naomi could feel their power currently nullifying the villains paralytic touch since he had his hand around their throat, but Naomi just sat there with a disinterested look on their face. Their lips turned into a deep frown as three heroes surrounded the villain.
“Give us the hostage Paralizard.” A heroine in a sleek black skintight costume called as she pulled at the fabric.
A hiss from the villain Paralizard, stupid name honestly, let Naomi know there wasn’t a chance they would be getting released.
“Never you s-s-scum.” He hissed, and Naomi couldn’t really care less what happened, it wasn’t like they were in any immediate danger. “This girl here is my ticket to escaping this fight, my paralysis has already affected her!”
Naomi’s eye twitched and the hero to the left of the villain, Socket, saw this and chuckled under their breath.
Did this creep seriously just misgender us, just because we have on girls clothes today didn’t mean we’re fully a girl. Naomi growled in their head as, without thinking, they reared their leg forward and swung it back hard, right into the villains private rental room.
Both heroes winced in pain as well, as Paralizard released Naomi and cupped his jewels.
Paralizard looked up at Naomi in a haze of pain and tried to speak and ask something, but Naomi shrugged.
“It’s my power idiot, other powers are useless against me.” They said flipping the villain off and starting to walk away.
They didn’t get very far before the heroine walked over and clasped their shoulder.
“That was very brave, your power would make you a great hero!” She exclaimed.
Naomi growled and shrugged the hand off, and whirled on the heroine, “I don’t care about being a hero, and I couldn’t give two jacks about becoming a villain, so just leave me alone.” They finished and stalked away.
| 2022-10-04T19:36:26 | 2022-10-04T12:27:12 | 178 | 116 |
[WP] A group of "heroes" killed the friendly village necromancer whose skeletons helped out everybody with their daily work. Those "heroes" now stand trial in front of a judge - and the whole village is enraged:
|
"His name was *Morthos*. *Morthos the Damned.*" The teary-eyed Judge said. "Father, teacher, poet, and part time necromancer. And now because of you, he's dead." There was a solemn murmur of agreement amongst the jury and assembled, weepy townsfolk.
"He was a good man!" Shouted a voice from the crowd, "When the barbarian raiders killed all my farmhands, his skeletons... " His voice cracked, and he wiped a dirtied sleeve at his eyes. "...they saved our harvest."
"Aye!" Came another voice, this one shrill and feminine. "Who's gonna read the wee one's to sleep? Morthos' skellies always had time for the wee ones." She broke off into tears.
"And what are we supposed to do with all the leftover skeleton bones?" Somebody else yelled. *"Bury them?"* The crowd erupted into a rage.
Galen swallowed. "Listen, everybody," he rose from the table, his shackled hands resting at his waist. On either side of him sat his two equally captured, equally black-eyed adventurers. "I think there's been a giant misunderstanding here. I know we're throwing around words like 'execute' and 'torture'-" He punctuated this with a nervous laugh. "-but I think if we all just take a moment and *breath*, we'll see that this was really a colossal mistake, and easily fixable."
The Judge rose an eyebrow, calming down a little. His eyes, however, were still red and puffy. "Go on."
"Well," Galen continued. "You see we're actually looking for a..." He glanced sidelong at his companions Amelia and Hayns, unable to recall the name of the necromancer they'd *actually* been trying to kill.
"Mor*dread.*" Amelia offered helpfully.
She addressed the jury. "Who is actually the necromancer from the next town over."
Galen snapped his fingers triumphantly. "Yes! Mordread, that was it. Anyway-"
"Mordread?" Said an old man in the jury. "Right prick he was. *His* skeletons painted a big fat dick on me shop's door last year."
Galen opened his mouth, unsure how to respond. Amelia wheeled around, unsure if she heard him right.
"Oh, oh!" Said another woman in the crowd. "Or how about that time he reanimated that damn wasp nest on me doorstep? I had *just* managed to kill the bastards too."
"Yeah!" Came a third voice. "And that time he murdered our firstborn sons!"
A gentle rumble of agreement rolled through the townsfolk.
"Err, yeah." Galen said. "That was the one we uh, wanted to, you know. Kill and stuff."
The moment was interrupted by the banging of the Judge's gavel. "Enough! You said this was easily fixable, well what is it you propose?"
"Well, you see we killed your necromancer."
"*Morthos.*" The Judge growled.
"Err, yes. Morthos. And we're terribly sorry."
"Oh yes." Amelia agreed earnestedly.
Hayns grunted, which was in Galen's estimation about as much enthusiasm as a dwarf could muster.
"Get on with it." The Judge said, growing impatient.
"Well, let us go and we'll pop over to the town next door and take care of this Mordread character. Which means no more reanimated wasps-"
"- and no more culling of firstborn sons!" Amelia added with a smile.
The Judge was silent, clearly weighing the benefits of their release against his desire for justice.
"And not only that," Galen continued. "We'll make that bastard bring Morthos back. I mean, there's a good chance he won't be able to channel the power of death to help the township as a reanimated corpse, but he can still give out high fives and such." Galen grinned nervously. "So basically, you get your old pal back and we do a little community service in penance for our terrible-"
"-horrendous." Amelia interjected.
"- crime." Galen finished.
Just then the crowd exploded into shouts of agreement and shouts demanding their death, torture and dismemberment, and also, what Galen was quite certain was a shout asking if anybody cared to purchase a goat for ten percent off regular asking price.
Again came the smashing of the gavel.
"Very well." The Judge announced. "On the grounds that you capture and *retrieve* Mordread the Treacherous, *and* can compel him to bring back our beloved Morthos the Damned, you are permitted your freedom. Stray from this task, however, and all the King's Guards will be on the lookout to bring in your heads. And that is a promise I lay my life on."
Galen swallowed. "Then we have a deal?"
"Free them!" The Judge roared.
|
“All rise before the noble Sir George, Elder Judge of our village,” said the bailiff.
Sir George entered the room with an air of confidence. His intense glare seemed to say that this was *his* courtroom, and he would not be tolerating any sort of antics. His beard was quite long, one of the longest in the province, and it did well to hide his face full of scars from the adventuring of his pinger days.
“You all may be seated,” said Sir George, banging his gavel.
“Let’s jump right into this case,” he said, “I personally want these scum out of my town and in the royal keep. Prosecution, you’re up first.”
“Thank you, your honor,” said the attorney, smiling. “What we have here are five delinquents who came into our town, drunk might I add, and killed the kind Margaret the Necromancer. Now as we all know, Margaret was loved by everyone for her community service, and to be stricken down by self proclaimed heroes is an offense of the worst kind.”
“For evidence, you honor,” he continued, “We have the testimony of twenty some odd villagers who all heard the group bragging about their deed. Upon investigation by our town’s Captain of the Guard Leeroy, the only had to say, and I’m quoting here, ‘We killed that bitch. She’s dead. I have her head right here in my hand.’ He then proceeded to move her mouth as if she were still alive and further said, ‘If only I could still use my potions.”
The courtroom audibly gasped at the offensive diatribe which was just spelled out to them. Many seemed as if they were about to break down, with several members of the room booing and hissing at the group.
“I believe I rest my case,” said the attorney, sitting down with the widest smile anyone could give.
“Do you have anything to say in defense,” asked Sir George.
“Well, your honor,” started one of the members of the group, “My name is Charles, and while I have no escalation of courtroom law, I have studied quite much the laws of birds, now if I may-“
“Objection, your honor!” The productions attorney stood up, “What does this so called ‘bird law’ have to do with this case?”
“Give the man a moment to speak, I doubt it’ll do much,” said Sir George.
“Now if I may continue. You see, my gang and I were merrily strolling about when I came across an air laden swallow. I pointed to our brave and noble knight D, that one of her sister flew about in the air.
“That was when I asked if we could come into your town to bang some prostitutes,” interjected the shortest, fattest member of the gang.
“Indeed, what my friend is saying, is that we only wanted to make friends with several ladies of the night. So my good friend Franklin, McDonald, and I stored into town, when we discovered something sinister.”
Charles looked behind him and nodded. “Pull it out.”
“The swallow was unliving! A play thing of the sorceress, and it must be, destroyed!”
McDonald, the biggest man of the group, stood up, and used the fighting style of a man from the lands to the East to dismantle the creature.
“That was my pet, Roscoe!” Shouted one of the watchers in the room.
“Ah,” said Charles, “but you see, Roscoe’s very existence violates bird law, and is punishable by death!”
“So we rode back to D and Dennis, and told them of our great horror. We all decided that we must ride into town, and put the vile witch to death!”
“Your honor,” said Dennis, the most handsome man of the group, who adorned beautiful locks of hair, and the makeup of a woman on his face, “When we arrived at the necromancer’s den, I tried to seduce her with my charm, but it had no effect of the witch. Even with my knife at her throat, she rejected me. Even under the implication, she rejected a man who is worth five sacks of gold!”
“And I’d like to add, your honor,” said McDonald, “That when we got there, I did an ocular pat down of the lady, and I saw that she was ready to bust out something, so I launched at her and began attacking her.”
“And I bit her,” said D.
“And I cut off her head!” Shouted Franklin.
All the members of the group began exchanging hugs and hand shakes and high fives.
“Order!” Sir Geroge said, banging down the gavel. “You five are the most vile, treacherous, evil scum that I’ve ever laid eyes upon, and I cannot wait to see you all hanging from the gallows. Be that as it may, I cannot deny bird law. You all go free. Get out of my courtroom.”
—-
Thanks for reading!
If you enjoyed that silly, gross story, then please check out my subreddit, r/coffeelover96
| 2018-01-05T16:48:35 | 2018-01-05T15:48:01 | 129 | 39 |
[WP] In a world where you can exchange the remaining days of your life for $9.99/day, Jeff's request for $1000 is declined.
|
It was a bright and beautiful Wednesday morning, but the cashier did
not feel the joy of the day, because he was going to have to deliver
bad news.
"Here again, sir?" said the cashier to Jeff.
"Yes, can you please try again?" said Jeff.
"Very well, sir, but this is the fourth time this week! You know that
our technology is foolproof, it is not random, and you won't get a
different answer... it really does know when you'll die. You should
preparing your will instead of coming back!"
"No matter," shrugged Jeff. "Please, can you evaluate me for $1000?"
The cashier took Jeff to a clinical, white room, and like the previous
times, had Jeff sit down while the cashier attached a pair of wires to
Jeff's forehead. The cashier peered into the display.
"I'm very sorry, sir." he said, sadly. "I'm very very sorry. The
most we can offer you is... $39.96. I'm so, so, sorry, sir."
Jeff shook his head, but didn't seem too bothered by the information.
"It's okay, thank you for checking. I'll be back tomorrow."
The cashier shook his head sadly as Jeff left the offices.
...
Jeff walked to a nearby coffee shop and took a list from his pocket.
Looking at it, he murmured to himself and said, "Okay, that's another
one down. Only three more horses to go."
Jeff whistled to himself, happily. He had the gun in his pocket. He
had his ironclad vow to kill himself if he didn't pick the winner. He
had four more days to place bets...
... and he had Lifeloan themselves, the parasitic corporation that fed
on the literal life force of the people, unwittingly giving him the
clear indicator of the right bet.
As soon as he could withdraw more than $1000, he knew that he had the
right horse -- and then he would bet everything he had.
With the winnings, he would take down Lifeloan forever.
It had an irony and a symmetry that pleased Jeff immensely.
|
Once more he rubbed his chin, rough with the stubble of a tired unkemptness. The sound of scratching bristles joined only the soft cracks of a cigarette in an ashtray that had been left to burn away and the low buzz emanating from on his computer.
Jeff let out a long, winding sigh on to his index finger as his right hand moved to cover his mouth. Watery, red eyes fuelled with nicotine and whiskey stayed fixed on his monitor.
Declined? How can he be declined for a mere hundred days? It must be a mistake. There has to be a bug, something's got to be wrong.
He sighed again. He knew nothing was wrong. Not once in the last last sixty years had the Lenovo Institues: Funds Exchange system been wrong by even a day. Not for anybody.
A dull blue glow filled the room. A dull blue glow and the smoke of a hundred unsmoked cigarettes that danced with a mocking optimism.
Thirty six years old. Unmarried. No children. No important impact yet made on the world.
No legacy to speak of.
He clumsily lumbered himself forward in his chair. He couldn't tell if the audible creaks came from the chair or his bones. ...Thirty six. He felt a hundred and thirty six at this moment. And for all the time he had left, he might as well be.
The time he had left. .... Just exactly how much time did he have left?
He slowly dragged his mouse cursor over a numerical input box. Another drawn out exhale for good measure. Followed by a quick, deep and sharp intake of breath. $500 dollars he entered as quick as he could type and before he had a chance to second guess himself, he slammed the 'Enter' key, and waited while the site processed his request.
.
.
.
<REQUEST DENIED - YOU DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH STOCK TO EXCHANGE FOR THKS TRANSACTION - WOULD YOU LIKE TO TRY ANOTHER AMOUNT?>
"Shit" he muttered under his breath, a desperate wobble to his voice. He threw himself back in his chair, chugged six large mouthfuls of his whiskey from the bottle, and lit another cigarette.
Once more he rubbed his chin.
| 2014-07-10T14:51:38 | 2014-07-10T10:56:36 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] You receive a government text warning saying “EMERGENCY - LOCK ALL DOORS AND STAY INSIDE. DO NOT PANIC”. You hear your SO at the locked front door, who’s just come back from the supermarket. They beg to be let inside but you’re unsure. Something doesn’t feel right.
|
I’m not even sure this is the right place to post, but I’m worried about my sister. About three hours ago I got a text from the Emergency Alert System. I checked my Facebook to see if anyone else got the same thing. It seemed like it was a practical joke and I couldn’t find anything in Google News.
My sister sent me these messages and I haven’t heard from her in over an hour. I’m hoping someone can give me some advice.
**Allison:** Hey Danny… did you get a text telling you to stay inside and lock your doors?
**Me:** Yeah. Pretty weird.
**Allison:** Any idea what’s going on?
**Me:** Nope. Just relaxing at home.
**Me:** Is Jonathan home from work yet?
**Allison:** No, he just went to the store. I’m kinda worried.
**Me:** I’m sure everything’s fine. You know the government is paranoid about every little thing. Probably an underground gas leak or something.
Allison didn’t respond for a while and I resumed my binge watching of Attack on Titan. That’s some weird shit, man. At this point, I wasn’t really concerned. My neighborhood was quiet, it was below freezing outside, and about two feet of snow had fallen during the day. Everything seemed normal.
**Allison:** Danny…
**Allison:** I’m scared.
**Me:** What’s wrong? Do you want me to come over?
**Allison:** No. Don’t go outside.
**Allison:** Jonathan is home.
**Me:** Well that’s good.
**Allison:** No. No something’s wrong with him.
**Allison:** I don’t know what to do.
**Me:** What’s wrong with him?
Three little dots danced at the bottom of my screen for more than five minutes before disappearing. I tried calling my sister four times with no answer. I tried to keep watching my show for a few minutes but my brain started playing all the “what-if” scenarios. I called again and Allison finally answered.
“Hello?” Her voice was small, quiet. Completely unlike her.
“Al?”
“Danny?”
“Allison, what’s going on? Why didn’t you answer the phone?”
“Something’s wrong with Jonathan. He’s not him.” She said, her voice hitching. Her shaky breaths sent a wave of anxiety to my stomach.
“Allison… did you open the door?”
“No. No. I’m hiding. I tried calling the police but it doesn’t go through.”
“What’s wrong with Jonathan?” I was pacing my living room, my jaw clenched. She was quiet for a while.
“He’s not him, Danny. He’s not him. He’s not walking right. And his voice. Oh God, his voice.”
“Is he hurt?” I asked as I grabbed my keys. “I’m coming over.”
“No!”
“What do you mean no? I’m coming over!”
“No! Danny, listen to me.” She whimpered again. I could hear a weird rhythmic sound in the background. “Listen. Something is wrong with him. With everyone outside.”
I hunched in front of my window and pulled the blinds apart with a finger. It was pretty dark outside but the snow reflected enough light that I could make out a group of people standing in the parking lot of my complex.
“What the fuck?” I muttered.
“Danny… what’s go-g on? Da-”
The called dropped. I gaped at the group of people as they formed a circle. Where they walked the depressions of snow were oddly dark. I squinted and leaned in closer, suddenly thankful to be on the third floor. The people raised their hands into the air as if they were making a “Y” and began to sidestep.
Their movements were unnatural, synchronized. I could see now none of them had any clothes on. They began screaming towards the sky as their heads bent back too far. They were standing straight up, heads touching their spine. They lowered their hands to join together and fell backward into the snow – faces and asses disappearing into the white powder.
I’ve tried calling Allison back. She won’t pick up. No one is picking up. I still have cell service but my water stopped working about 15 minutes ago and the power has been flickering. Does anyone know what’s going on? Has anyone else seen this stuff? I feel like I’m losing my mind. I can’t find anything about this online. No one is talking about it. Is it just here in the Midwest? Is it everywhere? If anyone knows anything… please. I really want to go check on my sister.
|
Rachael texted me and said she would be back home here soon. Usually I would run to the store and grab groceries, but I was exhausted from work. Spent 12 hours working buoys and being on the boat really took a toll on me today.
I was laying on the couch watching Netflix. Finally getting some time to relax while our child was asleep. I was beginning to dose off, the sound of our fishs’ filter soothes me as I drifted into sleep.
My phone began going mad, buzzing and making some sort of sirens noise I never heard before. I jolted up to check it. It warned me to secure the house and not make contact with anyone. It seemed like a hoax to me. Or some sort of accident. Sort of like the Nuclear Missile scare in Hawaii. The Coast Guard has some sort of emergency text similar to this, and I hadn’t received that either. There was some banging on the door, following by a yell.
“BRODIE IT IS ME LET ME IN!”
I ran to the door and hesitated as I put my hand on the knob. What if this wasn’t a drill? What if this wasn’t her? I dismissed it quickly and hurried her in. She was terrified. You can see it in her tear filled eyes. She brought in a lot of groceries though just in case we needed it. She dropped them at the door and locked it behind us. I rushed into the office and grabbed our AR-15 we recently got for Christmas. It had a Holographic sight and a vertical grip. We have 5, 30 round magazines, and about 200 extra rounds. We dumped a lot of money in it and it’s looking like it might pay off.
Rachael turned on the news and began shutting blinds and getting stuff out. I rushed to the bathroom, closed the sink and bathtub drain and started the water. I took a quick peek outside, and everything sounded normal. Emergency vehicle sirens began wailing in the distance. Something that wasn’t abnormal, but now wasn’t the time for it. Once it was all filled I shut it off.
I locked all the windows in our pet room. The news was reporting the text, but not anything that was happening. It made no sense. I got a text from my OIC. Informing all members to report to the station for duty. And to bring our families.
When we arrived there, we had gate guard with long guns. Which is never a thing where we’re stationed. We had two police cars near our entrance, whom were also armed with long guns. Our families were directed to the galley, and I hurried and got in uniform and went to the watch room. There was mass hysteria on the lake. Everyone was trying to get their boats out of the water. Everyone in the park was either panicking or just in shock. I brought my AR-15 with me, and so did some of my shipmates. We were positioned outside till we figured out what was going on.
One of the other non-rates came outside and gave us gas masks. We were instructed to put them on and just stand watch. I was at the end of the police boats docks ensuring no one would swim on station. Some air national guard helicopters were flying around the city and the lake. Our boat crews were on standby awaiting a quick launch. A few hours went past and we were given radios. We were radioed that there was a zombie like outbreak occurring throughout the United States. But there were no reports in our state. The Army National Guard went a squad our way to help us stay secure. Two of our boat crew launched to conduct some search and rescue.
I know it might sound cheesy, and a bit cliche. But zombies? In real life? It sounded absurd. Night began to fall, and we were relieved and told to get food and rest. The police and army came inside with us. We locked up the station, and the boats and awaited further news. The news showed clips of literally the zombie apocalypse happening in major US cities. It was horrifying. Soldiers tried to quell the outbreak, but they just had to keep retreating. The news said they suffered few losses, but most of the civilian population was devastated.
I kissed my family goodbye as they loaded onto the Coast Guard chopper the would take them to a Navy ship in the middle of the ocean, where they would be safe. Just as the chopper disappeared, we heard gunshots in the distance.
First time writer on this thread, and I know it’s probably not great, but I love zombie apocalypse scenarios!
| 2019-01-12T08:53:28 | 2019-01-12T08:26:32 | 124 | 49 |
[WP] A short Horror story. Something to chill the bones in one hundred words or less.
|
The room is exactly as I recall it, to the most precise detail, but this is not my home. These walls, bookshelf, the leather couch, this is a shroud pulled over something far more malevolent. Then voices, I hear them coming from the basement, they whisper “he knows.” I look to the living room window, into the night. A small crowd of pale, blank, expressionless faces gathered, pointing at me, viewing me on display like some exhibit in a zoo. “He sees us,” one whispers. And then a scream “PUT HIM BACK, PUT HIM BACK NOW.”
Awake in my bed.
|
I don’t know why, but I’ve always loved digging.
When I was a kid, I would dig and dig until my hands were raw. One time, I scraped my fingernails off trying to break through concrete. They sent me away after that, gave me a whole bunch of meds. But actually, I never feel clearer than when I have the earth between my fingers and dirt up to my elbows.
I’m not crazy. Too bad you’re the only one who knows that, and they’ll never find you all the way down there.
| 2015-06-09T09:54:42 | 2015-06-09T08:29:07 | 95 | 11 |
[WP] You lay dying of heart failure, and God enters your mind. He informs you that you will be reincarnated upon death, losing all memory, but before that happens you are allowed to ask any one question. The answer to your question surprises you so much that your heart restarts and you survive.
|
The thing about God is the infinite patience. I felt I had all the time in the world to select the one question that framed exactly my heart's desire.
Both worlds were hovering between shadow and light and I felt I might easily fall into either one without regret or effort. Time passed, the Everything waited and my mind sought for a thing which I had not known to be possible: one moment of pure understanding.
Then I had it. I knew what I wanted to ask. The most important question of all the questions. The one question upon which everything else was built. I framed the question and spoke aloud:
"God, who made you?"
Time stretched. The stars fell. Nothingness was more than what remained. Empty, no future, no past, no beginning, no ending. Just the awareness of consciousness without purpose, meaning or definition.
Then, a voice: "You did".
I fell back into my body as one who falls from a great height. Air would not enter my lungs. The sense of vision was strange and disorienting. Bright, colorful, loud, reeking, pressure, panic, fear, awareness.
Then I was back. I had asked the one question from whence all the other questions arose. I got an answer and had no idea what it meant.
Everything now had a frame, a reference, a substrate that would be the starting point for the interpretation of my life from this point until my next exit.
I had asked The Authority The Question and found myself as clueless as before. I had a frame and a picture but I had no idea what it meant.
I live life now without fear of death. Knowing that something is there and is waiting for me to ask a question, I rush towards fate so that I might again have another chance to ask the ultimate question.
God waits, I wait, the Universe waits and time slowly ticks down. I know I'll get an answer I understand next time. The trick will be to ask the right question.
|
I lay there gasping for breath, confused and wondering why I couldn't get up from my bed. There was a terrific pain in my chest. My brain screamed at my body to do something, anything, yet all my body did was convulse on my bed.
Slowly my vision started blurring and the sounds from my dieing body faded.
As the world left me my mind expanded, and soon it came to touch another. This other mind was enormous, I felt that it must touch the minds of every human.
“I am the lord, thy God. Be not afraid.”
Afraid wasn't gonna cut it. Here I was, dieing on my bed, and I'd just received the answer to every theologists greatest question.
“You are dieing my child. But worry not for you will be reincarnated so that you may live again. Yet before that happens you are allowed to ask one question of me.”
One question? Should I ask something about my life? That's not useful to me now! What about some question on the nature of God? What would happen if I presented some logical paradox? I think in that moment I designed more questions than I had known existed. To pick only one was a travesty against curiosity. And so I picked the broadest question I could imagine.
“If I were to ask you the best possible question, what would your answer be?”
I felt a sense of bemusement within the mind of God, and after a few chuckles God replied, “42.”
That's when I began to laugh, the laugh of a crazed madman. At first my laughter echoed within my head but when it reached a crescendo it suddenly burst from my body's mouth. A few minutes later it died down and I found I could move again. I sat up on my bed, contemplating the Answer I had received.
“Douglas Adams, you fucker, what was the question?”
| 2014-08-03T07:26:40 | 2014-08-03T07:26:22 | 111 | 18 |
[WP] A demon possesses a little girl, but inside her it finds something...worse.
|
She was rated a 1. Belzebub himself was 'only' rated 29. Compared to her, he might aswell have been a puppy.
Hywor had never seen a human with a rating below 50 million, let alone heard of any parents of such infinit kindness as to try and raise a child of such high threat. He peered out of her eyes, the sun was shining, the sky was blue with only a few clouds. It took him a moment to adjust to the sky, Hywor did not come up from the depths to the mortal relm too often.
Having steadied himself he looked down, the child was wearing a pink floral dress, barefoot, she was playing in a sandbox. Typical of a child her age. What was not typical was the boy rolling on his back next to her, hands covering his eyes, feet kicking and emitting blood curdling screams, echoing accross the woody playground.
The child.... Samantha, Hywor gathered from the child's mind, reached for another handfull of moist heavy grit sand. "SHA-SHA-SHA!" she squealed as she fell to her knees onto his stomach and plunged the sand deep into the boy's gapping, screaming mouth. Truely, the battlecry of a fifth circle demon.
"Samantha, honey!" the voice of a young female reached his ears, Samantha never looked away from her prey. The demon gleamed internally as someone else was about to bear witness to the child's display. "You play nice, okay?" It occured to Hywor that the parents may not be kind at all.
Rather, they may be idiots.
Grinning ever wider the child, if Samantha could still be called a child as her mind was a battlefield of fire, carcasses and hurt, blindly but with convinction, reached for the corners of the standbox with her right hand , clasped itself around the old dacying wooden frame and ripped out an impressive shard, splinters bitting into her hand.
The boy was now only sobbing, his body in trembles with a slight hiccup. He was rubbing his blood-shot eyes with tiny fists. One handed, Samantha pulled at the boys fingers with her left hand and pinned them down with all her weight.
The boy had but a few moments to realize what was happening as Samantha thrusted the wooden stake into his wet, fragile eye.
At this Hywor disconnected himself from the girl. He was only meant to seed doubts in her head, to turn her towards Satan's works such as rock'n'roll and animé. This was beyond his expertise.
Shaking his head, Hywor returned to Hell.
|
*I need to possess someone before noon or else Satan will get mad. Last time I tried I got punched so hard that I don't think I could have flown for three days straight!* "Oh, that's it!," Oglathor said out loud. "Oglathor, did you figure out how to solve our financial crisis and beat our competitors?" said his boss. "N-no sir, I-I was just thinking out loud." replied Oglathor. "Ok" said his boss, "and remember guys, if you don't possess someone before noon and reek havoc on something He has created, you will be executed by death from puppy licks. Meeting dismissed" *Oh Satan, oh Satan. I know Satan will get mad, but, I haven't broken the five codes of Hellfire, Chaos, and of "How to possess" -by Iggy Azela* (she is the all knowing witch-demon working in a type of music that possess all.) Before leaving on the highway of hell, Oglathor got a darkblaze hot dog, his favorite past time snack since '88.
*Oh my Satan, who is that? Is she all alone and can she defend herself? Only way to find out* -Oglathor starts singing Fancy by Iggy to attempt and possess her body to destroy the human world. *Ew, this human thing is different. I feel stressed and not able to communicate. And why can't a fly? Oh well* Feeling the urge to walk home from school, Oglathor and his new body are ready to play the long-con.
"Mommy, I'm home" Oglathor said instinctively. "Darling, how are you feeling?" asked her mother. "Not so well," Oglathor was telling the truth, "I am going to lay down." Offering her help, the mother told her to yell at her if Oglathor needed something. Why would Oglathor yell?
Oglathor fell into a deep sleep but, upon waking up, he found is white tights to be full with blood. *Ah-hah. This is what I have been waiting for. The blood of the child to ruin the world, no one would have thou-* Oglathor's thought was interrupted by a cramp so twisted that he thought this was the force to end them all. "Mommy," Oglathor needed her help desperately "what's happening?" The mother came running in. "Sweety, you just had your period!"
| 2016-03-30T09:59:49 | 2016-03-30T07:53:58 | 135 | 16 |
[WP] You've been cornered in your house by that Demon Queen who obliterated half the world looking for you. Expecting death, you're shocked again when she drops to your feet, begging you for your help. Especially when she tells you why.
|
I dove under the table as every window erupted from its frame in a shower of glass. I cowered, hands covering my head, making myself as tiny as humanly possible. But nothing was going to protect me from the inhuman roars arising from the horrors chasing me.
The wall creaked as a massive weight appraised its strength. Apparently, it was found wanting, because an arm ripped through the siding and studs. All that remained was her terrifying visage, wreathed by the light from the crimson sky. Horns curled from her forehead and shoulders. Each hand ended in five, foot-long blades. Her torso faded into four goat-like legs.
She bent down and grasped the table with one hand, each blade coming inches from my shaking body. As if it weighed a feather, she drew the table from the house, a dozen feet in the air.
“ARE YOU NICHOLAS OLSEN?” she boomed. Terrified, I laid shaking, unable to respond.
“ANSWER ME!?” She slammed the table to the ground, spraying me with splinters.
“Y-yes,” I whimpered.
“PERFECT.” She leaned in close. Her breath singed the hair on my face. The thin slits of her sulfur eyes measured me, judged me. She grinned so I could see every serrated tooth. “I need your help finding my Poochie. He’s a hell hound, about one and a half cubits tall. He has the most gorgeous black coat and his eyes glow the most vibrant shade of orange. He got loose about three days ago and I have been at my whit’s end trying to find him.”
My arms drifted down from my head. My jaw went slack. “Your dog?”, I muttered. “Y-you need me to find your dog?”
“Of course. You are Nicholas Olsen, of Olsen’s Pet Location and Tracking, right?”
I nodded my head, almost imperceptibly.
“Then yes! Your advertisement said you were the best animal tracker and catcher in the Rocky Mountains. I figured you were the perfect person to find my Poochie.” She then looked off toward the horizon. “I do hope he is ok. He hasn’t been away from my side in millennia. I’m sure he must be starving.”
|
Her lithe body glistened black from the rain roaring down beyond the open door. Powerful horns dripped water onto the rug below, soaking the crimson fabric. A wry thought flashed through your mind that if your blood splashed upon it, nobody would know you died in the entry way. You looked up into her eyes, sitting atop her 7 foot figure, and immediately was struck by confusion. Was the Demon Queen herself, the same Demon who had shredded through the planet screaming your name to the heavens, nervous? Before you could think another thought, she dropped to her knees in front of you, shocking you immobile.
“Emilio Carthon...please, I need your help,” the Demon Queen’s voice resonated with unseen power through the thin walls surrounding them.
“What...what are you talking about? What do you mean help you? Are you not here to kill me? If all you needed was my help, then why did you DESTROY HALF OF MY PLANET????” Emilio was uncertain at first, but his uncertainty quickly grew into anger at the prostrated demon below him.
“I could not let the spirits know what I planned,” the Queen’s voice seemed meek now. “The Angels and Demons have warred for millennia, but our wars only served to blind us from the true threat. The spirits have awoken, come to devour the souls of humans, angels, and demons alike. We need the help of one pure of blood. You are the last.”
Emilio was confused, “What do you mean pure blood? I’m the last of what?”
The Demon Queen’s voice grew somber as it dropped the weight onto Emilio’s shoulders, “You are the son of the savior. Direct descendant of Creator himself. You are the Son of Jesus, Grandson of God, and the only one who can save this universe as we know it.”
Emilio’s eyes widened. Falling to his knees, the rain continued to fall in a torrent as his world, his very existence, was changed. He wasn’t given a chance to reconcile his thoughts, however, before the ear-splitting shriek pierced through the darkness. The Demon Queen begun to violently shiver next to him.
“It has already begun, I’m sorry.”
| 2020-09-24T15:26:21 | 2020-09-24T15:02:39 | 20 | 13 |
[WP]Write a story that isn't scary until the last line is read.
|
"Reunions are difficult. You never know who's going to be there, and you won't recognize most of them anyway. And when you do see someone you know, it feels weird because they look so different from how you remember. Sure, you're sentimental about the times you had together, but those are distant memories."
The car pulled to a stop in front of the school.
"Alright, lock and load. Fan out and don't fire until I toss the Molotov, or the biters will have time to swarm."
|
It's so cold here in this tundra. The summers are great for farming, but the winters are terrible. My baby, to my right, and I have no food. We ran out of crops since the beginning of winter, and ran out of meat yesterday. I would go hunting for bears and wolves right now, but I don't have a rifle. Without one, taking on a bear or wolf would be dangerous. I need food. I look down to the right. It'll have to do.
| 2017-06-05T21:22:47 | 2017-06-05T20:15:06 | 49 | 17 |
[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
|
Cutting your hair at home is not a great idea.
At least if you do not have steady hands.
It started off fine but a little uneven.
Now I'll just fix the other side.
Wait, now the back's too long.
Clippers were a bad choice.
Buzz cuts are in.
Little bit more.
Too much.
Bald.
|
I have got my drinks, snacks and freshly charged controllers.
Everything is set up for an awesome gaming night.
Even some weed I have saved for weeks.
Now, what games should I take out...
Maybe some racing or fighting games.
That should do the trick.
Only one thing missing.
The crucial part.
You know...
Friends.
| 2015-01-06T02:05:16 | 2015-01-06T01:32:28 | 45 | 12 |
[WP]: You hate this one guy in particular. You also know witchcraft. So you cast a curse to slowly destroy the thing he loves the most. As time passes on, you find that nothing has changed, but you are starting to get sick.
|
The old ones had banished the practice of malevolent spells centuries ago, so a curse of this nature was a rare find indeed. It wasn't perfect - but I had a hunch it would do what needed to be done. Immediately, I began to clear the table. Bowls, half full of gruel, clattered to the floor. I spread the curse scroll out across the table.
A feeling I hadn't felt in months rushed through my body in waves.
Hope.
Leaping onto the rickety chair, I took a moment to close my eyes and focus. I could barely hear the cold drops of water dropping from the cellar ceiling over the sound of my own heartbeat. Carefully, I began to recite the curse.
A sound.
Footsteps?
He was home. I had to work quickly.
I was halfway through the reading when the familiar clinking of keys entering a padlock echoed through the chamber. Panicking, I began to rush my words. I might not get this chance again.
I raised my thumb to my mouth and bit down as hard as I could. It took all the willpower I could muster not to wail out in agony. I was shaking so much that I wasn't sure that the pentagram I had drawn would seal the curse.
Thankfully, just as the sound of the hatch opening reached my ears, the curse scroll began to emit its unmistakable purple sparks. I quickly stood, and ran back to my shackles, fastening myself in. Just as the curse scroll smoldered into nothingness, I saw *his* figure emerge from the stairway.
I pray my decay is swift.
Perhaps now I will finally be free of this place.
|
Brittle bones, purple bruises and a weakness that makes you fall to your knees and never give up.
What do you love you so much that the mere thought of it gone brings great agony?
It hurts, it really fucking hurts. So many bruises on my body. Black, purple and yellow. I'm a tapestry of my own making.
How do he do it? How did he deflect it so it would rebound? I sold my soul for what? A bout of disaster.
Allan wipes my forehead done. Everything he does feels deliberate and malicious.
"What do did you do?" he asks.
I say nothing. Of course he blames me for my afflictions.
My nose trickles with blood. He stares at the flow. Slow. Seeping.
He grabs another tissue, he puts it to my nose.
"Blow," he says.
I grit my teeth.
"Blow," he repeats.
Nothing. I will say nothing you vile piece of excrement.
"Blow," he intones.
"And then what?" I rasp through a crushed wind-pipe, "You'll make me regret it?"
He punches my nose gruffily with the tissue.
"Oh, you did that already by yourself."
No you did.
His face lights up suddenly.
"But, me taking care of you ... It feels like a dream."
He taunting me, I know it.
"I thought you'd leave me," he says lowly, "but now you'll stay, you'll be mine now."
A hell of my own making.
| 2018-09-14T09:42:53 | 2018-09-14T07:49:46 | 536 | 74 |
[WP] Your 'friends' just slammed the door on you, leaving you in the room with the crazed axe murderer. "Damn, that's a dick move. Want to get revenge?" The murderer offers you their hand.
|
I scoff at the stranger and their outstretched hand.
"You nuts? Those are my friends."
It was their turn to scoff.
"Some friends! They went right through that door! Don't you feel a little abandoned?"
"The natural reaction to a murderer and I'm supposed to be upset? Fight or flight. I can't be mad at them for responding with the correct response."
"Correct response? Wouldn't the correct response be to help your friend?"
"Sure, moral and logic would indicate such. But when you surprise someone, they are forced to react as their instincts allow. That's why hindsight is 20/20. Its harder to view a situation logically when you're dealing with all that adrenaline. Besides, you've missed a very important factor."
"Oh? What's that?"
I grinned as I heard the door open again.
"We live in a pretty rural area. Everybody's got a gun around here! Tell me, are you the fight or flight sort?"
|
“Sorry?”, I asked, bewildered that a crazy axe-wielding man was asking this question,
“Simple. Wanna get revenge?”, the man said, still holding out his hand, I looked at him.
He looked disappointed, then said,
“Look, kid, either you want to take your revenge or not. I’m fine with cutting your limbs off as your ‘friends’,”, at this he put out air quotes,
“listen to your screams.”, he said matter-of-factly. I still looked confused and a little terrified at the fact that if I agreed to the murderer’s idea I would be killing all of my friends- no not friends, just dickheads.
I closed my fist in anger as the man watched me silently. I looked up at the man and nodded silently, and the man grinned toothily, he said,
“Revenge is sweet.”
| 2020-11-10T04:27:47 | 2020-11-10T04:12:23 | 125 | 26 |
[FF] A 10-word-long sentence. Then, a 9-word sentence. An 8-word-long one after. This continues, until the final sentence of 1 word. Try to choose a theme befitting of the structure
|
Looking in the mirror, I puffed my chest out arrogantly.
I flexed, and admired the aesthetics of my physique.
Vascular arms, the chiseled abs, and V taper.
And then my eyes stopped short, shocked.
I trembled as the realization dawned.
I've made a huge mistake.
How did this happen?
I skipped it.
Leg Day.
Again.
|
Timmy had been my best friend since the first grade.
Over the summer, we hung out every single day.
We played pranks, told stories, made great memories.
We knew we would always be friends.
But now school has started again.
Timmy used to be nice.
He stole my juice.
I want revenge.
Die, Timmy.
Burn.
| 2015-01-05T22:38:49 | 2015-01-05T21:55:48 | 1,258 | 364 |
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know.
|
I have been a baker for many, many years. It wasn't always a passion or even something I thought I could do. I lied at a bar to impress someone and one thing led to another and here I am baking rolls and bread.
Another lie was that I had perfected that art of cake making. People believed it and flooded the store with orders for weddings, birthdays and mitzvahs. Once I even made one for a funeral, that person was either really liked or really hated as it had a festive motif.
I'm old now, pushing 80 when a younger me thought I'd suffer the family curse and die at 60. I'm doing all I can to keep living because once I pass people will know a simple truth. The truth that...... The cake is a lie.
|
Everyone lies. Small, almost innocent lies. Lies that break families and ruin lives. Accidental lies based on faulty information or bias. They can hold us together or tear us apart.
Like everyone else, I've lied many times in my life. Unlike other people, however, I can choose to make any one lie into the truth. It doesn't have to be my own lie either, but if I choose a different lie, everyone affected by the previous lie will know.
You can imagine the terrible things I have done, intentionally or otherwise. After all, power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutely. And that's what I have. Absolute power.
Because I am God.
| 2022-11-18T09:05:17 | 2022-11-18T07:05:32 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You are a supervillain, while your girlfriend is a hero. She doesn't know your secret identity but you know hers. After years of fighting each other you decide it's going to pull a heel face turn and join the heroes.
|
"There's nothing going on between me and Captain Invincible" Norah sighed, rolling her big brown eyes once, twice, thrice. I knew she was lying.
"How could you?" I screamed. "That dude wears spandex and a speedo on the outside of his costume. You can see the contours of his balls! He dresses like that in front of *children*, he's a creep!"
"It's a superhero thing." Norah shrugged. "I have to wear those ridiculous tights and low cut top or I would never get sponsorship deals."
"Not the same thing" I grumbled. "That's because--" Uh oh, she's giving me that look. I was about to say sex sells, but Norah would break every bone in my body if I implied she's some glorified pin up girl.
"Anyway" I try to sound commanding, but my voice partially cracked. "Anyway, if I find out you've been messing around, I'll..."
"You'll do what? Throw me out of MY house?" The living room suddenly got a lot chillier, and I could swear I could see my breath.
"You live in MY house, eat MY food, you're wearing clothes I bought you." She fumed. "In fact, I don't even know what you do for a living. You just disappear for 6-12 hours at a time with no word. The only people this secretive are superheroes and..."
CRAP, she's getting too close. Gotta distract, gotta distract. I reached into my pants pocket for the panic button and repeatedly mashed it. There was giant explosion and bright light streamed in through the windows, blinding us both momentarily.
"Oh no", I tried my best to act surprised, and hoped that all the commotion would mask my terrible acting. "Is that a Giant robotic T-rex that shoots lasers out of its mouth and eyes? What a terrible, yet ingenious, creation."
"Ugh, it's Metallicus again." Norah groaned. "Only he'd design something that stupid."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN STUPID?" Norah looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "I meant to say, whatever do you mean? All I can do is cower in fear at the sight of this ferocious metal beast"
"I mean, look at that thing" she responded. "It's got tiny t-rex arms that flail around and serve no other purpose but to make it look more like a t-rex."
*Come in, Ultragirl, come in. This is Captain Invincible. The Hall of Justice needs your aid.*
"Ugh, I gotta go." Norah groaned while looking at her transceiver. "We can fight about this after I beat the robot. Love you."
She swiftly bent her knees and launched herself into the air, punching a hole through the roof and cracking the hardwood floor underneath her. Great, I'm gonna have to clean this up.
How did this all happen. I, Metallicus, master of all iron and steel, in love with his arch-rival. I guess it's true what they say about people who work together day after day. Or in this case, almost kill each other day after day. If only Captain Invincible was dead, but that's impossible. He's invincible. If only I was Captain Invincible, she'd be drooling over me....no I could never act like an idiot like him, but with my powers, all it'd take is a dumb costume and I could be a hero too. Nah, that's stupid.
----Meanwhile, across town----
"You really didn't have to come personally, Captain Invincible", Omniac spoke. "It was a mere threat level 2."
"It's always good publicity for the captain to make a showing" Harlowe smiled.
"What I don't understand is why you called Ultragirl" Gonzo questioned. "We finished up 5 minutes ago and she hasn't even gotten here yet."
Omniac, the enhanced intelligence; Harlowe, Warlock of the Fates; and Spacehunter Gonzo were the greatest Heroes the hall of justice had ever seen. Yet even they trembled and lowered their heads in deference to Captain invincible, Son of the sun, Defender of earth, leader of the Hall of Justice.
"Merchandising has dropped drastically" Captain Invincible spoke softly. "My action figures sales are falling, movies studios are producing less and less superhero movies, and even sponsorships are going away."
"Villains just aren't what they used to be" the captain sighed. "Nothing excites the people anymore. But I have a scenario planned to rejuvenate everything, get the citizens to start caring about superheroes once again."
"What do you guys think of: The Death of Ultragirl." Captain smiled. "Catchy title, isn't it?"
|
*Of course it was milk*. It had to be milk. Lactose intolerance is common among the many humans that roam the earth, but she never thought that my lair would be in the basement of a dairy factory, helping to serve the local community and provide job placement!
My lair was in the basement level, but my day to day job was the general manager for the local dairy factory that produced milk for the northeast area. When she burst in, knocking the doors off the hinges and saw my with my construction worker's helmet on, she instantly turned red, covering her mouth.
"I am *so* sorry." She looked cute, not going to lie. She always did when she was incredibly flustered or embarrassed. Skin tight unifor of white and orange with a huge S in on her chest. Her hair wasn't tied up, but her hazel eyes matches the hair in such a style that I would never understand when she flew, how it stayed perfect. It made me wonder, so I asked.
"How does your hair stay curly like that when you fly?" Innocently enough, my voice made me sound like a confused teenager who had just stepped into bed with a smoking 10.
"Ahh, I'll just be leaving now." Her face remained tomato like.
"No, seriously, my minions and I have been debating that since last Tuesday. What is it? Industrial hairspray, or some mixture of hydro-carbonic, ultra-vitrolized crystal from the Heroes' league?"
"Look, I made a mistake knocking your door- wait, did you just say minions?"
I took off my helmet, dropped the clip board and stood up. "Hi Jennifer." I smiled awkwardly. I wasn't the smallest of guys, but my beard hide most of my double chin.
She titled her head, now going from red to scarlet. Narrowing her eyes, she murmured something incomprehensible. Then she snapped.
"*NO*." She glared at me. "It was you that started the orphanage fire?!"
I furrowed my brows. "No, that was an arsonist, I wouldn't do that. I gave them milk powder with suggestive ideas of-, you know what that's not why I brought you here."
She stomped over, the veins in her neck bulging. She looked cute.
"Michael Mercer Smith, you will tell me what the heck, is going on!" She slammed her hands on to the desk, breaking it in two. IKEA, never was worth the investment.
A head popped through the door frame, pale with fear. "Err, Boss? Tank four is leaking again."
"Not now Terry. Go fix it and get Procurement to get an approval for another one."
Jennifer, my girlfriend was still standing with her arms crossed. She really had a thing for being absolutely *adorable* when she pouted.
"Listen, I know your mad, and I know you don't like when I look at your things, but I know your secret."
I put my hand up before she started screaming again. Never know when her power scream would activate. In this emotional distraught moment, any of her powers could activate.
"I've known you were the Captain of the Heroes for a while now, and I've spent some time thinking of what I would do if we broke up."
"You're choosing now to *dump* me?!" She raised her fist. Underneath my desk, I grabbed a small device filled with the finest milk this factory had to offer onto her face.
"I wasn't finished!" While the milk neutralized her otherwise death inducing punch, her strike landed on my face, still causing me much pain.
Throwing me arms up, I just shouted, "I know you're pregnant!"
She halted at that. "Shit." She covered her eyes again. "Goddamnit Mike! Why do you always go through my stuff!? Don't you trust me?!"
I began laughing at that. "Honey, I'm a villain. I'm a *super*villain. When you know you are dating your main adversary, it does cause some trust issues."
She began pouting again, turned her back on me. She nearly started walking until she said, "Well, I can't well be dating the main reason that the Hero League was formed! I either kill the only man that has dated me for more than a year, or I go back with my head hung in shame!"
I didn't care anymore. Words wouldn't do it. "Can I come?"
Shocked, she turned around. "I'm not taking you to prison, Michael."
I sighed. "Then can I join you guys?" I did my best to smile.
| 2015-11-08T14:04:31 | 2015-11-08T12:24:47 | 39 | 12 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
It was 11:59 and while the whole family gathered around, my mother was no where to be seen. I expected that she would have joined us. After all, she'd been there for my older sister's reveal, and my brother's reveal. But instead she was watering the garden while it rained steadily.
C'mon, mom, I know I'm not your favorite, but you could at least put on a front this time.
"It's noon!" my sister squealed. "Pullupyoursleeve!"
A moment of dread shot through me. I can't say that I knew exactly what was wrong, but I knew that something wasn't right. There was no tingling in my arm, just a feeling in the pit of my stomach that told me something was going to be revealed today and I wasn't going to like it.
I pulled up my sleeve and no words appeared. Frantically, I pulled up the other sleeve, shoving it all the way up to my armpit. It had to be there. My sister tugged my shirt up, peeking under it. Not that the words ever appeared anywhere besides on your dominant forearm. "Where is it?"
"He won't get it yet," my mother barked from the sliding glass door. "He's not going to be 18 for another two months."
"What?" I yelped. "Today's my birthday!" My sister's hands fell and my shirt slid back down into place.
My mother shook her head. "You're father and I were separated, and I met a man..." she said quietly, her round eyes darting towards my father.
"You said the baby was mine! You said he was just early!" my father shouted.
She crumpled into a chair, her wet hair dripping onto her face. Her mouth wobbled and she stared at the floor. "He's not and he wasn't."
Two months and three days later, my parents' marriage was in shambles, and I walked into my sister's room, pulled up my sleeve, and showed her the words that had appeared the day before. "MARRIAGE COUNSELOR"
|
I've never been much for parties--let alone a party where I'm the center of attention. I'd much rather be sitting in a corner somewhere with a cat and my phone until the crowd dispersed. But, it was my 18th birthday today, so my parents were hosting my reveal party.
Often, children took after one of their parents. My mother, like her mother and grandmother before her, had been "resilient." They were survivors who had been through more trauma and heartache than most, but they still managed to soldier on and serve as role models for others. My grandmother was one of our community leaders, and a small throng gathered around her and my mother as they discussed plans to update infrastructure in our town.
My father, like his father and brothers was "protective." He was a member of the police force and helped keep us safe. He was seldom far from my mother, and stood a few paces back from her, eyes alert and straight posture belying that he was ready to spring to action even on such a happy day.
My parents were good people, and everyone expected that I would follow one of their leads. My older sister had. She wore the label of "protective" proudly. She was currently training to join the police force as well.
"It's almost time!" My mother called excitedly. "Take off your cardigan so we can see better. Only another minute..."
Everyone gathered around me waiting to see what my destiny held. Slowly, the dark shapes of a word began to appear. No one breathed for a moment as "dick" came into startling focus. Everything was silent until one of my cousins finally broke and began to laugh nervously. My father shot him a glare as my mother moved to comfort me. "It could mean any number of things..."
When she released me from a firm hug, I moved to stare at my arm, but was shocked to see something on my opposite forearm as well... The word "butt."
There had to be some kind of explanation! Surely my destiny couldn't be... Dick butt...
| 2017-03-16T03:19:48 | 2017-03-16T02:49:08 | 129 | 12 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed.
|
Stephen walked through the hallway with slow heavy steps and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, "I'm on my way, Sarah."
He didn't so much say the words rather than dribble them past his mumbling lips.
The sound of his flip-flopping furry slippers announced his arrival and he pushed open the disney-decorated door.
He carefully peeked inside, scanning the room.
Sarah sat in the corner of her bed, tightly gripping a pillow and pressing it to her face.
Stephen flashed a tired smile, "Sarah, honey. What's wrong?"
She spoke with her face still buried in her pillow, "Dabby, thers a maobster."
He walked over to the bed and messed up her hair, "There's no such thing as monsters." he said with a reassuring smile.
Her innocent eyes moved from the pillow to her father, "Can you make sure?" she pleaded.
Stephen crouched down on painful knees and peeked under the bed, getting ready to diligently inspect dust bunnies and old stuffed animals.
His eyes moved like a lighthouse light across a harbor, passing over the mobster hidden between stuffed animals.
He slowly rose to his feet, mumbled something about back-pain, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and had a second look.
Stephen locked eyes with a portly man wearing a striped suit and a scowl, "Wise guy, eh?" hissed the man.
Feeling quite awake, Stephen jumped to his feet and kicked the bed frame.
"*Bada-bing...*" growled the bed frame.
Stephen kicked the bed frame again, "Get out of there!"
The mobster scurried out of his hiding place like a fat squirrel on ice.
He swept his hand beneath the bed and retrieved his brimmed hat before standing a full 5 feet tall.
Sarah bolted from her bed and hid behind her father, who weakly gestured towards the bed, "Why were you under my daughter's bed?"
The man donned his hat and shrugged, "Laying low."
"But *why*?" repeated Stephen.
The mobster chuckled, "I can't very well stand in there, can I?" he said with a wry smile, "I mean, c'mon. Look at it."
Stephen rolled his eyes, "Oh, so you're a comedian now."
The man smirked and retrieved a cigar from his coat pocket, pinched off the end using a cutter, and lit it.
He inhaled deeply and puffed forth a cloud of smoke, "No," he said through clenched teeth, "No funny business."
"An *acquaintance* of ours has been hesitant to make his payments," explained the mobster, "I'm here to remind him."
Stephen rubbed his forehead, "Hold on, you're using this room as a black market meet-up?"
"That's right," confirmed the mobster, he finished the remainder of his cigar and flicked it across the room, "Although the client doesn't exactly know we're meeting-up, if you catch my drift."
Stephen raised an eyebrow, "An ambush? You're ambushing this client from beneath my daughter's bed?"
The mobster raised his hands apologetically, "Under beds is just the sort of place their kind likes to be."
Stephen started when the doorknob of the closet began to rattle.
The mobster reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun, "But they get in through the closet."
The hinges of the closet door creaked in protest, the door was carefully opened by a small green hand.
Stephen hastily took his daughter's hand and fled towards the hallway.
The mobster cocked his gun and pointed it towards the closet, his voice was ice, "We've been eagerly awaiting your payments, Mr. Wazowski."
|
"Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule.
| 2017-02-07T01:29:03 | 2017-02-06T21:56:15 | 545 | 11 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second...
|
I sat on the couch, scraping up the last remnants of my birthday cake.
"It's almost time!" My mom shouted
I glanced at the clock: 11:59
My brother Jeremy launched a nuclear clock app and swiped it to the TV. Everyone crowded around and I held up my arm so they could see. At 11:59:50 they started counting down. "10. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1!"
As the countdown finished I began to feel a slight burning sensation. I watched as the word began to fade in, as if pushed forward from beneath my skin.
"Run."
Everyone cheered, I had always been an athletic person, mom had even joked that my word would be "Olympian" on multiple occasions. As the cheers began to fall off, my arm began to burn again, more than before. I grimaced and closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to pass.
When I opened my eyes, the room was dead silent. I glanced up at my mom and saw the look of horror in her eyes. I looked down, bringing my still tender arm back up so I could read it.
"Run. Now."
Then the gunfire started.
|
My mother to my left, my father to my right, and assorted family gathered elsewhere in the room all waited and started. I felt as if I was becoming a spectacle, my arm on show for everyone I knew.
My cousin Jeremy had been branded as a veterinarian, which is odd because as children he was cruel to animals. Come to think of it my sister had been given harlot, though from the rumors that one isn't too far off.
As the clock struck 11:59 my pulse began to race and a faint sheen of sweat lingered on my brow, my entire future could be decided in this moment or some deep motive that some twisted divine had placed inside me.
The clock on the wall was deafening, every other sound so blatantly missing, as if the air itself waited.
In this moment I had forgotten how to breathe, blinking was all but forgotten. This one place in the universe is all that mattered. Suddenly, the clock struck with a chime and words began to creep onto my skin linking the space between my freckles. The pattern of the letters was almost comical how bad they were written, almost as if a drunken frat boy was tattooing me.
*send^nudes*
| 2017-03-15T22:53:41 | 2017-03-15T22:14:11 | 271 | 193 |
[WP] When a person dies, an individual can volunteer to house their soul within their own body until a donor body is found. You are beginning to regret your decision.
|
I'm a good samaritan. I try to give to the community, and take as little as possible in return. I pay my taxes, I call my grandma every week, I help my cousins with their homework. I'm a *nice guy*.
Therein lies my fucking problem.
Of course, when grandma started getting sick, and asked me to house her soul until we found her a new body, I said 'absolutely'. What kind of asshole denies their grandma? I thought, *sure. I'll help her out, what does it matter?*
What matters is that no one has housed a family member's soul before. I was the first. I thought, *hey, I'm a pioneer! First of a kind! Couldn't possibly hurt, right?*
When you house a soul, the doctors go over everything. To the person being housed, they've effectively died. The soul is dormant until a new body is found for them. So, of fucking course I helped my sweet grandma.
"Thank you, Jimbo," she said to me. She always called me that. Thankfully, no one else did.
The implanting was a complete success. "Smoothest operation to date", they told me. I got home from the hospital and my girlfriend, Kate, came over. Beautiful, kind woman. A freak in bed.
That night, we start going at it pretty heavily. Halfway through, I'm tied up and out of breath, my body stinging a little from the pain. *Oh, you naughty boy.*
I laughed. "Why'd you say that in a funny voice?" I asked her.
"What? I didn't say anything to you," Kate replied, giggling.
"Yeah you did. You just said something."
*Don't stop now, it was just getting good.*
"You said something again!". I was getting desperate now. The game she was playing with me started to get annoying.
"You're insane. I didn't say anything either time."
I contorted my face in confusion, puzzled as to why she'd be trying to trick me.
*Jimbo, be a man and fuck her already. I haven't felt anything like this in 40 years.*
My scream woke up the neighbors.
|
*What are you doing?*
Startled, I rolled over in my bed. "Huh?" I asked.
*What are you doing?* a voice in my head called. *I'm bored, let's watch TV.*
It had been a few months, but I still wasn't used it. My best friend Charles had died. Part of me didn't want to do it, but his parents begged. There was no one else compatible. Either I let them merge his consciousness with mine, or he would have been gone forever. It was nights like that one that made me regret it. After all, death was natural. Keeping someone alive was new and unpredictable.
*Pete, wake up,* said Charles. *Stop daydreaming and turn on the TV.*
"It's not daydreaming if it's night, Chuck," I moaned. "I *was* sleeping, you know."
*Dude, I've been sleeping all day, let me take over for once.*
"I told you, I'm not comfortable with that," I said, bending my pillow over my ear. "This is my body, I don't want you possessing me."
*Possessing you? What am I, a ghost?*
I flipped around again. "Kind of."
*That's cold, Pete.* Charles sighed. *Why did you take me in if you didn't want to me live?*
"You're my friend, I didn't have a choice." I sat up against the the headboard, realizing I was sounding crueler than I intended. "I didn't meant it like that, I'm just tired." Charles didn't respond. "Listen, just let me sleep and we'll discuss this in the morning."
I laid myself back down and closed my eyes. A moment later my eyes shot open. It was morning. I turned off the TV and got out of bed. Maybe he'll forget our conversation and just leave things the way they are.
---
*Come on down to /r/MajorParadox! I'll keep the light on for you.*
| 2016-01-18T09:05:27 | 2016-01-18T08:27:32 | 969 | 31 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch
|
There we were, math class again. Typical Friday afternoon waiting for the weekend. Everyone around me focused on the board while I sing to myself, waiting for someone else to answer the question as I chant 42 to myself.
Today's song just happens to be about a beautiful girl in class. My Sweet Caroline in fact. I feel like my rendition could put Neil himself to shame. I watch Caroline as I sing, wondering how many times boys have sung this to her to try and impress her. Suddenly she raises her hand. 42 she calls out.
I start to sing louder. Jealous of the fact that I got the answer first, but don't have the balls to say it in class on the off chance I'm wrong. My song gets louder in my head as I calculate the next problem.
BA BA BA!!! I yell in my head followed by the next answer. Caroline flinched. Raises her hand. Calls out 6. Right again. But why the flinch?
Curious now I keep singing, and staring. There is no way she heard me. People can't hear other people minds. That's like movies and weird stories you read on Reddit. No way it exists I say to myself as I hear Caroline start to hum along with my singing.
|
As I stood in the lab room, I let my eyes wander as I waited for the centrifuge to stop. I crossed my arms over my chest and glanced around the room before he came into my line of vision.
I grinned to myself. *Cute.*
As the centrifuge whirred to a stop, I pulled out my group's test tubes and began to head back to our station. I narrowed my eyes away from our results and the discussion at hand to sneak a peek back at him, and chuckled when I made eye contact. *Smooth.*
Quickly looking away, I made a bold conclusion about our results and scanned around at my lab group. They nodded hesitantly, then with more confidence as they wrapped their thoughts around my conclusion.
By the time we had written down our results and conclusions, I had only been thinking to myself about the lab itself. Looking back up, I watched as he sat down at the counter at the front of the room.
*I hate Thor.*
I watched as he whipped his head around with a dumbfounded look that dissolved once he noticed my gaze fixated on him. Bursting into laughter, I observed as a flush appeared on his face.
"You don't really hate Thor, do you?"
| 2017-11-13T19:47:06 | 2017-11-13T18:05:33 | 236 | 102 |
[WP] Congratulations! At 25 years old you won the lottery and will receive €50.000.000,- spread out over the rest of your lifespan; paid out evenly on each of your remaining years alive. On the following January 1st, you receive €25 million in your bank account.
|
I got half my money in the first deposit. So, I did what any sane person would do. I panicked and called their customer service line.
"Hi, my name is Gregory Trapper."
"Oh, yes, you're the one who won the grand prize, aren't you? To say that I'm jealous is an understatement."
"Yeah, about that, isn't the the prize money supposed to be spread out over my entire lifespan?"
"Correct. That was part of the contract."
"So, I got half of it deposited into my account today, and I'm really scared."
"Why is that?"
"Because I don't want to die in two years!"
"Sir, we cannot tell the future like that. We simply pay out half of the remaining balance every year. This guarantees that we will always have some amount still owed to you, so we are technically paying it out over your entire lifespan."
"What?"
"It's based on one of Zeno's paradoxes. We will always owe you some money, as we cannot guarantee the date of your death. The remaining balance will be paid out to your next of kin upon your death. This was all in the contract."
"Oh..."
"Is there anything else that I can help you with today?"
"No, thanks, that's quite a relief."
|
I was a bit skeptical about this lottery at first, but ever since the quarantine hit and I got laid off, I figured screw it, we’re all gonna die eventually, and got myself a virtual ticket. By the end of 2020, I had completely forgotten about the lottery. I had gotten back on my feet and stopped thinking about the past. But on January 1 I received a notification about a deposit in my bank account. Someone had just given me 25,000,000. “What the fuck?” I thought “Did I win the lottery or something? I then remembered when I entered into the lottery, and how the 50m was supposed to be spread out among my life. I started panicking. “Does that mean I’m only gonna live one more year?” I went back to the lottery website. I searched all over the website for hours until I finally thought to check the disclaimers. “This is only for people of legal gambling age in your country blah blah blah.” Aha! I found something!
“Disclaimer: we cannot accurately predict how long you will live”
| 2020-08-05T20:04:24 | 2020-08-05T18:49:53 | 257 | 43 |
[WP] You are the Last Hero. The one they call when nobody else can handle the threat. You've answered the call only twice since discovering your powers, devastating as they are. You prefer the quiet life, living on your stipend. The Red Phone has just rung for the third time.
|
It's been months since your last escapade. You've sealed yourself from society, as your powers just aren't suited to do good. You have made it very clear that your assistance is only going to be provided if it's absolutely necessary. You can't risk creating horrible unavoidable repercussions. Even if for a noble cause, there's a multitude of consequences for your interference. Sometimes it would be better to not help if helping would create a net negative of casualties. At one point, even if out of your control, you killed hundreds trying to save dozens. It's just too risky.
But the phone rang. You retired for good purpose. You told them the consequences. But you never know if you will be truly needed or not. For once, you make an exception. You pick up the phone.
"Hello, we've been trying to reach you about your car's extended warranty."
|
"What's up?" I answer still dozing since I just woke up.
"So we have finally captured Alex, but we need you to brainwash them."
"Alex? The only S-Tier villain Alex? The 'I accidentally crushed a building because I sneezed' Alex? The 'we moleculized them and they still came back' Alex? How in the- you know what, not important. What exactly do you need me to do?"
"Well we have a E-Tie- sorry, they just got promoted to D-Tier, villain and we would you like you to make Alex fall in love with them while making the D-Tier be just friends with Alex, and we think that may tame Alex."
"I really don't think this will work, but not even the Eternity area will hold them, so worth a shot. I'm on my way."
| 2022-03-29T03:47:27 | 2022-03-29T03:31:39 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] You have $86,400 in your bank and someone steals $10. You spend all the rest of your money trying to get revenge.
|
I'll admit, it wasn't my proudest moment. I was working as at a bank, and a pretty strange guy came in to open an account. You probably know the type. Overly loud to cover his insecurities, laughs obnoxiously at his own jokes, weird clothes. Anyway, this guy comes in and has a sack full of cash to open an account. Plops it down on my desk and has me set it all up for him.
We finish up around lunch time and I send the guy on his way, then head back to the vault with the money. It's right around then my stomach starts growling at me and I remember I left my lunch at home. Things have been a little tight around the home front with a new baby, so I'm feeling strapped. You can probably guess where this is going. I went ahead and took $10 out of the sack, and processed the deposit. I figured a guy with this much cash wouldn't miss it. Who misses $10 out of a $86,400 deposit?
John Oker, apparently. Not that I found this out immediately. No, it was two years later.
I was doing auditing work for a different company by this time, and was supposed to go inspect a warehouse for an important client. The place looked abandoned when I got there. No lights were coming out of this massive, old building. The paint was peeling, and most of the windows were still boarded up. Those that weren't were covered in a thick layer of grime that made it impossible to see inside. The remains of the sign for the old chemical plant that used to operate out of here still clung to the top parts of the wall, but a small wooden sign near the main door confirmed I was in the right place: "Laughing Planet Inc."
Inside was about a filthy as the outside. But there were definite signs of activity. Conveyor belts had been put in, and there were toys in various states of construction spread throughout.
"Hello?" I called.
My voice echoed around the warehouse a bit. I started to turn to leave when an answer finally came.
"Jerry! So glad you could make it. Please, step on in." It was a man's voice. One I didn't recognize at first.
I spun around and looked for the source of the voice, but didn't see anyone. "Yes, I believe I had an appointment with Ms. Quinn? She was going to give me a tour of the facilities," I shouted back.
There was another pause. Again, I almost gave up on the whole thing, which in hindsight, I should have.
"She won't be joining us, as she had another engagement come up unexpectedly. So I'll be giving you the tour." The voice came from right behind me. I spun around and recognized him immediately. The man from the bank. Still wearing the same strange clothes, now topped off with wild dyed hair and a heavily made up face.
Before I could even get a word out, he took me by the arm and led me deeper into the building. "As you can see, we had to let the janitor go," he said, before busting out his obnoxious laugh. He led me through a maze of of half built walls and empty crates until we came to a storage area.
"Here's where we keep the raw materials, Jerry. I expect you'll want to take an inventory."
I leapt at the chance to start talking professionally. It took my mind off the strange circumstances I was in. "Yes, that's correct. You know in small businesses like yours, it's actually shockingly common for employees to steal. One of the leading causes of those businesses going under is shrinkage, either at the till or in the inventory."
"Oh, shrinkage you say!" Mr. Oker gave in to another fit of laughter. I didn't get the joke.
I looked around the area and spied something sitting on the floor, so I stooped to pick it up. "A ten dollar bill," I said.
"How careless!" the man in the strange purple clothes said. "Well Jerry, finders-keepers, am I right? You can apply it toward your bill, or just pocket it. I'm sure you've earned it."
"No, sir," I said with a nervous laugh. "That would be unethical. You'd better take it."
Mr. Oker stepped over to me and took the bill from my hand. "Well I admire that Jerry, I really do. Ethics really is high on my list of must haves." He chuckled again, before continuing. "In fact, I'd never let it go if someone stole from me. Not ever. If I found out someone had taken my money, why, I might buy a warehouse for a fake toy company, and lure the thief there, then strap him to the conveyor belts and run him through the machines."
I tittered nervously. He didn't.
He stepped closer to me, pressing me against some of the crates. "Do you remember me, Jerry?"
"I'm sorry Mr. Oker, I..."
"Please, call me Joker."
And that's when he punched me. One good whack to the head and I was out. When I woke up, I was strapped to the conveyor belts.
"Rise and shine, Jerry!" Joker shouted from a platform high above me. I watched as he dramatically heaved an enormous lever. The machinery sprang to life, and I started moving toward the metal contraption that would turn me into a child's plaything.
I pulled against the ropes, but couldn't get free.
"Maybe your ethics will save you!" Joker called.
"No, but mine will," a gravely voice answered. I heard the dull sound of a fist hitting someone.
"Oh Bats, here to ruin my fun again! Even though I'm in the right this time!" Joker called.
There was no answer this time, just the sounds of a scuffle. All I know for sure is that the machine turned off a minute before I was going to become a puppet.
Sorry if this was a longer answer than you wanted, Commissioner Gordon, but to cut to the chase: yes, I have some idea of what the Joker wanted with me.
*****
If you enjoyed this, you can subscribe to [Pubby's Creative Workshop](https://www.reddit.com/r/Pubby88) to read more of my prompt responses.
|
*It's not about the money. It's about the principle of the thing!*
I don't want you to get the wrong picture of me. I'm not some white-collar slob browsing through memes in an air-conditioned office. I'm an electrical engineer who put himself through school on nickels and dimes. I had to sell my radio to buy my uniform for my first day of work, although I would have sold a kidney if that hadn't covered it. If I'm willing to get my hands dirty to earn my money, you can sure as hell know I'm willing to get them dirty to get it back.
When someone takes money from me, it's not just me they're stealing from. They're stealing from my father who worked a night job to keep clothes on my back. They're stealing from my children who can't understand why their father doesn't love them enough to get them the same toy their friends have. They're stealing from every honest man, every American dream, every -
"Next in line please."
The vein in my forehead learned to tap-dance. If a glare could kill, the McDonalds Cashier in front of me would have flipped his last burger.
"I gave you a twenty. You gave me change for a 10." My voice could have chiseled rock. There was a collective sigh from the line behind me, but I held my ground. "I'm not leaving until you give me my 10 back."
"I know how to do my job, *sir*. Next in line!"
It would have been one thing if I was a strung-out fool scratching at my ass, but I was a professional man. From my tucked in dress shirt to my carefully parted hair, everything about me screamed credibility. The nerve of this greasy teenager to disregard me so quickly -
But this wasn't over. Oh no, this was far from over. He was nothing compared to me, and I was going to prove it. But I wasn't going to stoop to his level. I was going to use my game to beat him.
I'll admit, my plan seemed a lot simpler in my head. These types of registers just spring open when the electricity shorts out. After that, all I had to do was grab it and run. It wasn't stealing: it was justice. But then I guess I started overthinking things...
The supplies I needed from Home Depot set me back a bit, but soon I'd put together a simple device which drew so much power in a feedback loop that the whole building would be overloaded. Sure I had to bribe the guy who worked there when he got suspicious what I was going to use it for, but you never know when I'll need to use this baby again.
Of course, just to be safe I might as well get rid of the security cameras. No point going to all this trouble just to get caught. I can't believe it cost a couple hundred dollars just to get someone from the company to recall them for maintenance. Worth it, of course, because now I was ready to exact my revenge.
Only he'd already finished his shift by then, and I didn't want to get someone else in trouble. I followed him home instead, maybe a bit too fast, because I got a speeding ticket along the way. He wouldn't have a register at home, but I could still go in and take it by force. Of course, for that I'd be safer to bring along some protection, so I had to buy a gun.
Couldn't wait the three days, so I just got a hot one from a buddy I know. Cost a little extra, but you know what you can't afford to replace? Dignity. Finally, it was midnight, and I had everything I needed. Time to make this bastard pay.
Or it would have been, if I hadn't accidentally broken into the wrong house. There was a lot of screaming and confusion. Understandable, given me crashing in through their kitchen window, but who the hell really needs a stain glass window in their house anyway? Bunch of white-collar pussies if you ask me. Of course I offered to pay for the damages, so it's not like any real harm was done.
But now! The right house. Right time. Just before the break of dawn, I knocked on his door. Long, loud knocks. Not the sound of a thief in the night - more like the authoritative confidence of the police upholding the great law.
No reply. What would the police do in this circumstance? Exactly the same thing I did. Break the door in. Gun at the level, I flipped on every light I came across. I have nothing to hide. Do you?
"What's that awful racket?" An older woman. Must be his mother. She waddled blearily down the hallway in her nightgown, freezing when she saw the gun in my hand. "Oh sweet Jesus. Michael! Call the police!"
"I am the police!" I roared. "Where is that son-of-a-bitch?"
"You're no police. Where's your badge?"
"Well, not exactly the police. But I'm on the side of justice -"
"Michael get down here and help me!" she screamed.
"Yeah, come here Michael," I added, albeit a bit less confidently than when I had begun. "And bring my ten dollars!"
Soon they were both against the wall, quivering in fear. I was starting to get uneasy now, but any hesitation would make it look like I was confessing to doing the wrong thing. I wasn't! The money was mine! And God as my witness, I wasn't leaving without it. The moment when he handed me the folded bill, I knew it was all worthwhile. Sure I'd spent my whole savings to get this back, but I'd also deterred this scumbag from his future life of crime.
I put the bill in my pocket and walked home in triumph, the exalted return of a victorious emperor from his conquered land.
I guess in retrospect I should have looked at the bill Michael gave me. Bitch only gave me a 5.
---
[More from author](http://www.facebook.com/sirtobiaswade).
| 2017-07-18T09:32:24 | 2017-07-18T09:25:11 | 325 | 201 |
[WP] Yesterday your best friend (who you secretly had a crush on) died. You're teleported without warning to a seat at a table. Across from you is Death and Satan, next to you is your best friend. "Sorry." Death says, "You're friend chose a two-versus-two game."
Edit: I get it. "Your" not "You're". It was late and I kept rewriting that part of the prompt. I will never live down the shame of my grammatical error.
|
I glare at Stephen. He glares back.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“Oh I don’t know, maybe since you always go on about how good you are at this game, you could help me out.”
“You dumb bitch, you didn’t think about asking God or someone for help? How are we supposed to win against the fucking devil himself?!”
“Hey, I resent that.” Lucifer Morningstar, the incarnation of all that is bad and wrong in the world, rumbles petulantly from where he sits bound in rusty chains.
“Shut it, Satan.” I snap before rounding on his teammate. “And what do you have to say for yourself?”
Death raises skeletal hands. “Hey now, I just wanted to play Smash Ultimate. These two bozos are the ones that dragged you here.”
“You couldn’t have brought any of the other horsemen with you?”
“Be grateful.” Satan smirks. “If you two win, your friend here gets to come back to life.”
“Yeah I’m starting to think I should just leave him here.” I deadpan. Stephen flips the bird at me. “And if I lose?”
“You both stay here with me.” Satan grins. “Now, let’s-”
“What if I refuse to play?” I interrupt. “Do I just get to leave?”
“No.” Suddenly Death is holding a really really sharp scythe to my neck. “Let’s play.”
“...fine.” I turn to where a TV and a Nintendo Switch sit on a large boulder. The four of us sit on a giant pillar of stone that rises up out of a pool of molten sulfur. It smells like the aftermath of the time Stephen and I ate a ton of bean burritos.
I grab a controller and begin scrolling through the characters. The other three do the same, and I sneer at their selections. “Of course you pick Bowser. And Dark Link? Really? How edgy can you get? Stephen you dumbass, pick K. Rool, even you can’t possibly fuck up with him.”
“What’re you picking- oh come on, why would you pick Kirby? He’s such a lightweight!” My best friend groans.
“He’s my main, you fucking fuck. If Sakurai thought he was good enough to be the main character of the story mode, he’s good enough to kick these bitches’ asses.”
“Alright, alright.” Stephen sighs. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
|
"Wait what?"
The heavy oaken table creaked slightly as Lucifer himself leaned on it. "Pretty straight forward, mortal. You were chosen as her partner to play a 2 versus 2 game, if you win, she lives. If you lose, you both go with Death here." He motioned towards death, little more than a barely formed robe with wisps of inky black smoke dropping from the lifted hood.
Sarah hadn't looked at me yet. Her face a mixture of regret and fear, I could see tears on her cheeks, and my chest tightened. "Okay fine, I'll play the game." I stated, not quite sure I fully understood the situation. "But I want something if I win."
Satan raised an eyebrow, looking over at Death. "That part of the rules?"
Death simply nodded. "Given the circumstances, it would not be fair for a mortal to be forced to end their life shorter than their time without some recompense. What do you wish for?"
"A superpower of my choice." I stated abruptly, causing Lucifer to burst out into raucous laughter.
"Oh you humans, always wishing for power or wealth. Very well, I will grant it myself should you win." His very presence shook the room with his amusement. "So, Death, what is the game?"
Death's gaze passed across the room. Even without eyes, we could tell it looked at us. "Survival." Sarah shifted in her seat uncomfortably.
"Survival? I'm the Lord of Hell! There is nothing I cannot survive. Tell me, what meat grinder were we to run through? What wolves would chase us?" He laughed again, the walls shivering. "Are you sure you don't want a game of chess like all those other humans?" Lucifer's grin showed the confidence he had in himself.
Death raised an arm - more inky black smoke coming from the opening - and pointed it at me. "You and Sarah. You have 10 years, on the planet of my choosing. If you survive through Lucifer's wrath, you win." I blinked a couple times, my vision a bit hazy. "10 years. The clock begins... now."
\---------
I wish I could make one of those solid lines but feel free to follow me on /r/PM_Full_Tits for my once a month story things :)
| 2019-01-08T22:23:14 | 2019-01-08T21:34:07 | 2,181 | 178 |
[WP] The city gets new street lamps, but these lamps are "smart". If a crime (like a robbery) or car crash happens under, or in the vicinity of one, the light will turn red as an indicator to the police. One night, every street lamp in the city turns red.
|
This was the night that the air turned red.
The signal-lamps were installed in an effort to improve first responder response times. Programmed to turn a deep shade of red when triggered, outfitted with the latest in monitoring technology, and serviced monthly. A compromise to the watchdog groups from the lawmakers when the state struck down the body cameras. Since their implementation, response times were cut in half, although the crime rate went up--a result of better detection, not more crime. The furor over the militarization of civilian enforcement agencies died down, and the beast named Public Outrage lumbered back into its slumber, waiting to be aroused--however briefly--by the next senseless killing or gross injustice.
As their use spread, the technology that made them possible grew in efficiency, until the signals no longer needed to be triggered manually. Different cities set varying degrees of sensitivity to the crime monitoring equipment--in California, only hard drugs and violent crimes set them off; in Alabama, the sight of two gay men kissing once tripped the public indecency sensor. They had to dial it down after a Supreme Court ruling.
All debates about Big Brother aside, the equipment seemed to slowly drive down the crime rate, at least in large cities. A perfect example of human ingenuity employed for the greater good. From all appearances, things were getting better, and with them, our society.
But I know better. I know that power corrupts, and I've drank, laughed, cried, and fought alongside those corrupt men for nearly twenty years. I know the mayor by his first name. I've dated the commissioner's daughter. I know the crimes that lay on the hands of these men and the bodies, black and white, that have laid at their feet.
And tonight, following the grand jury's failure to indict the officers who shot a unarmed man and the police chief who lied about it, the state-of-the-art detection equipment proved its worth.
I know that there is innocent blood running through the streets of New York.
Tonight, the air matches the streets.
|
Captain George Thompson was running frantically between the several different monitors.
"Officer Valdez, status report!"
"Sir, all lamps on First St have turned positive!"
George wiped a drop of sweat from his eyebrow. All the lamps in San Juan were turning red, and the police station was being overloaded with automatic calls from the smart lamps.
"All right, everyone listen up!" He clapped his hands twice and every police officer in San Juan inside the headquarters was listening.
"Here's the situation. As of now, all the lamps in San Juan have turned red!" Here, George heard a few gasps, as all the officers had only been monitoring the street assigned and did not know the situation on the other streets.
"I want all the officers to go out and investigate their street. Move, move, move!"
All the officers cleared within a few seconds and suddenly, it was just him in the office. He sprinted towards his desk and started viewing the video feeds that were coming in from the police cars. Suddenly, a voice rang out from his computer saying "Captain Thompson, we need you to look at this." He switched screens and saw the President on a live video feed.
"Mr. President! How can I help you!" George, sprang to his feet and saluted his webcam.
"Captain Thompson, we need you to look at this picture our satellite in space sent us. It seems that lamps all over the US have been functioning irregularly and this was the result. "
A loud chime emanated from the desktop. George opened the high-security email which required him to enter his military password, and he gasped.
It had to have been a group of hackers that had done this, because using the lamps, the hackers had centered San Juan in a bullseye with a message underneath reading, "We're coming for you first."
EDIT: Formatting, Content
| 2015-02-01T16:11:45 | 2015-02-01T14:33:38 | 233 | 27 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why.
|
A sardonic chuckle came from the open doorway behind me as Viper looked around the blood spattered living-room, "Boy, you've really done it now."
I wiped my hands clean on the curtains, cracking a few more ribs as I stepped onto and then over the chest of Lady Steel's dead husband, "I've done what? Steel has been getting on my nerves and I finally figured out her secret identity. Why not bring the pain?"
Viper kept his hands at his side, careful to not touch anything, stepping gingerly over broken glass while staring with amused disgust at Lady Steel's daughter, pinned to the wall with a shard of ice. "Listen, freeze-pop, or whatever you're calling yourself..."
"Deep Freeze."
"Sure, Deep Freeze-Pop. You just broke the number one rule of getting by in this business. Don't piss off the supes. Not in any way that they want real revenge. Someone like you, with cute little ice powers like yours... You knock over a few banks, maybe hold some people hostage, take your licks from whichever hero decides to respond, escape with a little extra cash, rinse and repeat." He waved his hand over the room like he was showing off the grand prize on a television show, "But this. Well, that's over for you now, buddy. The hero-villain ecosystem works because they need something to do with their power and their egos, and we give them that thing to do. Dispassionately. They don't care to hurt you, they just want to stop the villain and get the photoshoot. Nothing personal, ya know?"
I nodded, not entirely sure where he was going. Getting beat up and arrested by Lady Steel had always felt rather *personal. "*So what? Steel is going to break her own little *code* now? That seems pretty hypocritical."
The phone in the pocket of Lady Steel's husband began to vibrate, drawing Viper's eyes and my own. He stepped closer to me and a small smile played over the bits of his mouth that were visible, revealing a pair of unsettlingly sharp fangs. "The supes have always been hypocrites. The codes they have are easy to keep because they don't have much of a stake in the people we hurt. Sure, they feel bad about it, but they're still going home to the people they actually care about. But not Lady Steel."
A loud boom in the air above us drew my eyes out the window. Immediately as I turned, what felt like two needles entered my neck. My fingertips went immediately cold as Viper pulled his head back. Another boom tore through the sky. A sonic boom, closer. My body wouldn't respond to my commands, except for my eyes. Those I turned to Viper as he wrote something on a piece of paper and pinned it to my chest. He began to walk out the front door I'd left open before turning back, "You're not the first person to find out where Steel's family lives. Hell, most villains figure it out faster than you. That's why I was here, I'm supposed to keep an eye on this place to make sure no one fucks up the balance like you just did. Bad luck for both of us that my car makes such a warm place to sleep." Another smile passed his lips, "Before now, you were just another villain who had to be roughed up before Lady Steel could go home to a nice dinner with her loving husband and daughter. But now... well, you made it personal." He walked quickly into the sunshine and out of my view.
The terror in me grew as seconds passed and I remained still, unable to move. Then I heard the sound of two feet, rocketing into the ground and saw the first flutter of a cape past the window outside.
|
There are rules in every secretive organisation from the mafia to the more interdependent assassins guild. This included the super villains, when a new one rose they would quickly be grabbed by a crew of the older more powerful villains and be shown the ropes, and if they proved themselves they would be given the locations of some of the hang outs, given some advice on who to go to to make up a base and get some specialists to help on certain jobs the kind of trade secrets that the older wished that they had.
What the new villains did not know is that one of the reasons that they were given, was to monitor them one to know if they were a spy a threat or competent enough to work with. But the main reason that they were watched was to find out when they came up with The Plan. The plan that everyone in villainy eventually comes up with in the fits of their cocky arrogance the plan that they think is so original and they laugh at the older villains for not thinking off.
The plan to kidnap and hold a family member of their nemesis. Now this plan changed from every villain in the hows, whys, and what they planned to do to them but only one has ever happened and the villains watch to make sure it doesn't again.
So when Hellfire a notable new pyromanser came up with the plan and it was confirmed he was preparing. He was grabbed by the oldest of the villains and taken to the old hub for super villains Now known as The Monument. Here he was told about the futility of The Plan how it was a truly terrifyingly bad idea and he was threatened that if he continued they would destroy him before he could implement it. Then after He huffed and argued and called them cowards he was shown why.
In the Monument dead centre of what used to be the main seating area of the hangout/ bar stood eleven thick crystal clear cylinders. Each one held a figure ten off who after a second were recognisable as legendary villains who had ruled this cities underground much like the crew who Had now gathered to instruct Hellfire. Then the tale was told of why they had dispersed as well as the folly of the cursed 11th.
See the 11th had carried out the plan he had grabbed multiple spouses and other family members of the league and killed them in ever more creative ways. This was the combined response of the affected heroes. Each of the man or women in the cylinders, Hellfire was horrified to learn was still alive the glass like structure was breathable allowing oxygen to be pulled into them as well as minute channels that pulled in water and base materials such as dust and other base elements taken from hidden collectors that were teleported in. Then Nanites turned into "food" which along with magic sustained them. What was worse was that they were effectively immortal held in a stasis like field of combined magic and sciences. but that was not the worst part each of those poor souls were in constant agony Nanites tore them apart and healed them magic induced feelings of cold, heat, electricity and made them hyper sensitive and unable to ignore the pains. Other magic and alien tech had been employed to prevent them from going mad and thus escape their punishment and in the case of the 11th only, to play pictures of the deceased over and over behind his eyes.
So the villains had been told by the affected heroes as was the explanation of why the other villains had been taken rather than just the 11th. This was as they explained as they had let it happen and had not provided proper instruction.
Which was why they were here and why they could and would not let him complete his plan. To which Hellfire was shown the inscription written in the base of each of the cylinders.
Our pain will never end. So why should Theirs.
| 2020-07-12T12:38:13 | 2020-07-12T12:12:08 | 29 | 19 |
[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
|
The sounds and smells of New York assaulted John's senses. After being gone from the city for 10 years, he still love/hated the smell of New York City in the summer. It was dark on the street. Darker than a street should seem. Looking up he noticed the lights had been busted out on the light pole.
He heard a soft *John* behind him and he turned. She had gotten her hair cut. He couldn't tell the color but it looked like she'd gone back to being a brunette. He always did have a thing for brunettes.
He smiled. "Hey. Fancy meeting you here."
She surged forward and hugged him fiercely. She had grown taller than him years ago, but he couldn't begrudge her that. Even as a kid she'd been all legs. She was slim again.
"I can't believe your here!" She cried with tears in her voice.
"Yeah I'm here. How longs it been?"
"Almost four years now. Johnny is about to turn four in a few weeks."
"Wow. He's getting big. I can hug you now with no baby bump."
She laughed remembering the last time he'd come to her. She'd gone into labor unexpectedly and was alone without her cell phone nearby. Their reunion, however, was cut short by a shout from the end of the block.
"Ay lady! That kid botherin' ya?"
"No." She shouted back. "He's with me!"
"A'ight. I noticed those bums trynna follow ya but I sen em off." Said a gruff Italian walking towards the pair.
"Oh goodness. Thank you so much. I thought I had shaken them off and then when I realized I hadn't I was just all turned around." She responded, her hand on her chest. *ah* thought John. *That's why I'm here*
"Yeah, fageddaboudit. Look, yous gotta be careful in the Bronx. You can't be out here at night with just a kid keeping you company, ya know what I'm sayin. Those bums tried telling me some stuff but I told em to tell their story walkin."
John stuck out his hand. "Hey man, thanks a lot for that. I didn't realize she'd attracted some unwanted attention. I'm gonna get her home safe now."
The Italian shook his hand back and said, "Yeah, you do dat son. Go on up to White Plains Road. See if you can catch a cab. Don't be taking ya moms on no subways round here, ya hear? Yous guys get home safe, a'ight."
"Will do, sir." John responded with a respectful nod.
The pair turned and walked up the road towards the tell tale screeching of a subway car stopping towards where the man had pointed.
They walked in silence for a moment.
"I'm not sure how I feel about being mistaken for your mother now."
They shared a good laugh before lapsing into silence. As they neared the busy, populated street they both slowed. For a few moments they just watched the people passing. John loved how alive the scene in front of them was.
"Even with as much as it's changed, it's still the same."
She smiled wistfully, watching his face. Her eyes seemed intent on taking in every facial expression of his. He meet her gaze with that youthful grin she'd fallen in love with as a kid.
He noticed the lines on her face. No doubt some put there by his namesake. Some by grief she'd experienced. And the rest by time. Time that he'd lost.
"It's good to see you again." she whispered.
He grinned even wider. "It's good to be seen!"
He didn't want to see the tears in her eyes that he knew were inevitable. She should always be smiling. She was safe now and he could feel himself fading again.
"You tell your boy I said hey. Take care of yourself... Mom."
She huffed through her tears and stared as her once childhood love faded from sight with that eternal boyish grin. Even though he'd been gone for 10 years, the grief was always fresh. But it was accompanied by the comfort that her guardian angel was still watching over her.
Edit: Spelling. Did this on my phone.
|
"Oh, God DAMN IT! not again!" Lucy exclaimed, obviously flustered about me appearing out of thin-air in her vicinity. It took me a moment to register the situation, and then immediately realise how messed up the situation truly was.
It was her grandmother's wake in Toronto; a few thousand miles away from me in Florida. While she was evidently saddened by the event, I had no knowledge of this, and was instead doing some homecleaning, dancing in my underwear to my Queen playlist; Tie your mother down, to be exact; poor choice of song for the situation.
The amount of eye contact with everyone; strangers, her parents and brother included, amounted to what almost equated as a firing squad. Considering her immediate family was made aware of my...."situation" with Lucy, it never did make it any less awkward.
Regardless, there I am, near-buck naked in a funeral procession; neurons firing double time to think of an explanation, reasoning, humourous joke, anything to break the ice. Then again, it wasn't my fault.
Turning to Lucy, coolly as the day I tarnished my birthday suit, I proclaimed "Really? ANOTHER booty call now?" slyly smirking. A few chuckles and "spit your drink" chortles were heard, so I perceived this as a success. She just gave me the death glare, excused us from the room, and dragged me out of sight into the next room. She composed herself thusly.
"Adam, don't get me wrong, that was fucking brilliant, but you're a fucking idiot. what are you DOING here?" She began in a frustrated tone.
"Hell if I know, Lu. We both know how it works, remember?"
"But I don't NEED you right now! Last week yo---
"PLEASE don't remind me of that. I'm still trying to get the stains out. Which reminds me....."
As I said this, I not-so subtly leaned in to her face and sniffed. My assumption was correct, exclaiming a rather large sigh.
"You were drinking, weren't you?", Her gaze shifting to the floor left of me, like a child stealing a cookie.
"...No......" She stuttered.
"I don't blame you, but I should be the last thing in your mind, especially now.", stating the obvious misconnection, but she just shrugged it away. there was nothing she could do.
The air became tangible at this point, as the conversation became silent and awkward; She didn't know what to do, and given his mishap of this "gift", she knew I was stuck here, two thousand miles from home as it wasn't the first time. This was the least of my concern, however.
"So I don't suppose there's a spare suit? not everyone showed up in white....". I had to break the silence somehow. There was a dead person in the other room, hundreds of other strangers questioning the situation. Forget being laughed at, I'm pretty sure her uncle Pete from Texas is here, and he's a big fan of formal occasions, just as an excuse to bring his shotgun. She scoffed at my petty attempt. "Wait Here." she said, and went back into the room, leaving me here like a lost shaven puppy for quite some time.
It felt like an eternity before she came back. I was expecting some sort of literal monkey suit. Instead, she came back with a pair of stained slacks, an inverted KILLERS T-shirt and a red tie. A feeble attempt at best, but she's trying.
"You know....you don't have to go now..." she subtly informed me, drifiting the question off as though it was a cheesy line from a porno.
"Yeah, because everyone isn't going to question why a chubby guy in underwear popped into existence at nana's funeral. it's bad enough as it is......wait, no cufflinks?". I didn't wanna be here any longer than I already had. Finishing the tie up, I felt like I looked like something out of a horror movie. Nothing wrong with searching for the right alleyway, then.
| 2017-03-22T17:37:31 | 2017-03-22T16:45:00 | 37 | 13 |
[WP] After gaining the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate tying soul mates to each other. You realize your string extends past the sky.
|
In a way, I'm glad for the strings of fate. Their visibility has led to all out peace on this once malignant planet. It became easy to find that "true love", and people became happier for it.
Some pairings were conventional. Some weren't. But all resulted in bliss. You can feel it in the air. I'm grateful for that.
And I am grateful for the way lovers are so enthralled and absorbed in each other. Because looking upon myself, I feel only regret.
Every time I look down at my wrist, at the scarlet strand tied taut and ever reaching upwards, I feel regret.
Most everyone else in the world has found their soulmate. I never will. A vast sea separates my love and I. I can feel that, too. This constant warmth in my chest, a second heart beating in sync with mine. This comfort transcends all boundaries. Space and time matter not. Somewhere, someone is meant for me. And I for them.
The years of loneliness make sense. My discomfort with past relationships wasn't an overreaction. I always knew. Nothing ever felt right.
Not until now.
And as I lay on the grass under a diamond dappled sky, I smile through the tears. Maybe one day, we'll meet. In another life. In this one. One day our kindred souls will meet, and all will be perfect.
"I'll find you," I whisper. "One day."
And on the breath of the cool wind, a response comes.
'soon.'
|
'I'll see you again soon." Her words. They were the last I'd ever hear.
I felt the moment of impact, time slowing to a crawl. An unnerving moment, sending the abyss reaching greedily for me, knowing there's nothing I can do. Knowing that she'll die with me.
They speak of attaining a certain clarity, facing oblivion. Nothing was further from my truth. Thoughts screaming through my mind too fast to track. Dreams left unfulfilled, memories to cease along with me.
Feeling the tremor, the plane tearing itself asunder, my arms encircled her. I couldn't speak, I had nothing to say. She wouldn't hear me anyway. I held tight.
Her eyes find mine, resolute. I see her lips move, and the words follow, disjointed. A clarion sound, the most beautiful I'd heard. Not in content, but in tone, fearless.
'I'll see you again soon."
And that was it. My body ripped from me, darkness closing in. Sensation gone, I no longer feel her there.
Time isn't. Seconds or centuries pass by, then I'm aware. Shocked, felt more than heard, the word 'GO' reverberates through me. Towards the other end of oblivion, a rope tugs me.
And off I go, vapor on an unfelt wind, riding a rail of light.
| 2016-08-05T22:17:34 | 2016-08-05T21:53:03 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Mages choose the source of their power. Most pick things like fire, or justice, or love. You picked sarcasm.
|
People worry when a medic gets snappish, short-tempered, and sarcastic. Mage - medics have their powers burn out faster than other magical/medical specialities. After losing too many soldiers and facing too many black mage snipers, mage - medics want nothing to do with any will working for any intent.
Of course, I was not subjected to warnings when I announced my speciality at the Academy. No military history instructors ever warned me of the fog of war and hedge wizard guerillas trying to kill you before you lift a finger to help the target.
Oops, what I mean to say was that they told me. I am as shocked as you are at them bothering. I imagine that you were as shocked as when the Board heard what my Power Word was.
"Usually, medical specialists choose Compassion, Health, or Skill."
"Humor helps to delay flame-out. Not like I need it, going into private practice for some potion billionaire. "
"I thought you were . . . oh."
Three years and 2000 miles later, I am at the bucolic Field of Demons on a humid and gray day made for picnicking. If I am lucky, my Red Sigil tent will hold up until the army retreats. Maybe if I keep up the mockery, some of the army might survive.
I look up to see a fireball heading towards me. Panicked, I yell out "I love the stench of death in the morning!" A man carrying an empty stretcher stops to look at me.
The fireball bounces off the impromptu magical shield, then slides down like a miniature sun. The fireball scorched the oh-so-well-constructed shield, but that was the only thing burning.
The man still stands, trying to balance the stretcher. "Do you need some water?"
I think of a few quips about cacti and nourishment from the tears of angels. However, I decide to give myself a break.
"I would love some," I say with my most sincere smile.
|
"For the last time Faltos, if you cannot take this seriously the council will revoke your membership." Zanzibar said.
Faltos rolled his bright blue eyes, and smirked as his chair turned into a pile of snakes.
The grand council, standing on their glass risers, perched in poofs made of the finest griffin pelt, watched him with egregious disdain. The oldest of them, Samantha White, looked down on him her face scrunched into a restricted form.
"Faltos, you were predicted to be the greatest mage in the 21st century. The savior of the council. But your choice in power-sources, is simply an embarrassment to the community. You must change it."
"yes, of course, let me undo the 10,000 year pact, re-write the contract of the gods, and recant all my training so you and your council can not be so embarrassed." Faltos Said, transforming the bundle of snakes back into an umber poof.
The academy wasted resources on this. No wonder 2000 years of magical enhancements were rotting in textbooks that smelled of burnt flies. No wonder the world forgot that once mages ruled, no wonder Atlantis sank. All of these things passed through Faltos' mind. With a wave of his hand, he vanished from the astral plane, hearing behind him yells of the shocked councilors.
Back to reality, back to the 3rd dimension. Back to 2017. Back to time. The night rose up before him. Far away somewhere, another mage plotted the doom of the millions. Ignatius, the goldenboy of the mages, the chooser of time, wanted to bring back the golden age of mages, the dark ignorant time when men remembered who ruled.
Faltos on the other hand enjoyed the internet above all things.
| 2017-07-20T13:16:57 | 2017-07-20T11:56:22 | 47 | 25 |
[WP] You are a necromancer's apprentice. One of your most important jobs is holding down the revived bodies in their first moments alive again, while they scream and beg to go back.
|
“Let me go.”
The man’s pleading eyes swell with tears.
I hate criers.
He struggles meekly against the restrains.
“Why have you done this?”
He looks at me as if I know the answer.
“I was at peace.”
I nod uncommittedly only half-acknowledging the man. Somehow, he still takes the slight motion as encouragement.
“She was there.”
I mix brightly colored liquids at my work bench.
“I never thought I would see her again.”
A puff of smoke erupts from one of my vials as I try to remember my master’s instructions. It looks effortless when she does it.
“I am cold,” the man complains.
I look over at the man. His newly restored life is draining from his face. I mutter the incantations as best I can remember them and trace invisible symbols in the air above the mixture I have concocted. Vast unseen power press against the fabric of reality and the gash across the man’s abdomen closes unwillingly. His mortal wound undone. I dab my forehead and repress a smile.
“Why?” the man pleads again.
Now for the real trick. From the work bench I pick up my knife and turn to face the man once more.
The Damascus Steel gleams joyously in the lone ray of moon light that reaches the cellar’s high windows.
The sides of the man’s mouth quiver.
“I fear not death anymore for I have seen what lies ahead.”
If he knew what lay ahead of him, fear would not do him justice.”
Swiftly I carve the symbol of master into the man’s forehead. He screams in agony. He has forgotten that the world of the living is defined not by life but by pain.
He breathes heavily now. Trying to control himself. He checks are wet from tears. There’s not much blood. This man’s life is still fragile. It won’t be for much longer. I pour the contents of the vial I am holding into the carnal canals I’ve carved. The man’s eyes roll back.
“Good, good.”
I start. My master’s voice is like a razor dancing through silk. She steps out of the shadow. How long has she watched me? I don’t know. She is a creature of the night and moves unhindered in darkness; one moment many leagues away and the next by my side.
“I see your training has not been altogether,” she pauses and licks her lips. “Futile,” she decides and caresses the seizing man’s neck. White foam drips merrily from the man’s mouth and onto the unclean stone slabs.
With a sudden jolt, the man lies still. He calmly watches as I undo his restrains. His skin has taken on an unnatural, grim hue.
“Your command?”
He looks at me. Passive. Subservient.
I look around. The master has gone again.
Thoughts of rebellion race through my head. Insurrection. But is of course a trap. The master knows all, see all.
“Put on that robe,” I instruct.
The man obliges. It is his old stewards robe which bears the mark of the order of the golden light.
I snap my fingers and two undead servants emerge from the shadow.
“Bring in the next body.” I look at the man as he clads himself in his old garb. It seems a costume now. Will the abbot notice before it is too late? The stubborn old man is the last line of defense of the unknowing city above. But he will not let the light falter easily.
The heavy door swings open creakily as the servants brings in the body of the cellarer. It’s a fresh kill. No more than a few hours has passed. In this world at least.
I fix the restrains and begin the ritual anew. The master has not told me her plan but I sense its contours. I wonder what my place will be. A dark prince atop the throne of this miserable city while she builds her strength and forges alliances against the might of the paladin king of white mountain. Perhaps or perhaps something less grand. When the war comes, I will betray her. I know this much for certain. She wants power. Absolute power. And that fateful desire will undo her. I on the other hand will be happy to settle for the treasury of a king and a life of luxury.
The cellarer screams in agony as his soul is torn back from the afterlife.
\--------------
For more check our r/NornTree
|
Dusting the ash off my coat with a “*sigh*, another one.”
The boss nags from behind, “Esteban! We’re losing moonlight! Get a new body on the slab asap while I gather mana for the next spell!”
Blood rushes to my head “Old man this is the 12th one tonight how about calling it quits and trying again another day! You keep pumping the stiffs with mana and I get a bigger mess to clean up!”
“Silence boy!” The boss spits. “You’re 100 years too early to mouth off to me! I’ll have you know I’ve quite the pedigree in the dark arts!” He says proudly.
Furrowing my brow and hauling another body on the rune etched slab, “in destruction maybe but necromancy clearly isn’t your forte’ why don’t you stick to lightning bolts and fireballs and leave the stiffs to the pros? 100 years too late for a mid life crisis don’t you think?”
I turn around to a man at peace unlike the hate filled crone he was a second ago he’s praying, communing with mana to grant him power and give life to this wretched abomination.
Flakes of blue light gather in his hands. The wind gently swirls kicking up ash as it dances in the moons pale light shining down on the corpse.
It’s beautiful in a way if not for what happens next. I hear a spark and the smell of embalming fluid is overtaken briefly by the musty smell of rain.
I dive out the way onto the ground, a pile of ash softening my fall.
“POOOOOWEEER!!!!!” The old man shoots lightning from his fingertips onto the corpse.
“OVERWHELMING POOOOWEEEER!”, he amps the voltage. The runes ablaze with energy, and then the violent crackles are replaced by a melodious hum.
I get up to see the corpse still intact for a better lack of a term, a-little char here and there but not bad, not bad, major improvement. But had he done it, finally?
The Boss glides to my side hand on my shoulder “13th times the charm dear boy.” Excitement in his voice.
The corpses eyes jut open electric blue fills the irises with life. I dive toward it as it screams trying to break away from my hold.
The corpse screams, “NOOOOO! What is this!? Why did you bring me back!?”
The boss approaches “kind sir welcome back I have graced you with a second chance at life and now that I have helped you I would like you to help me.”
“My pet gargoyle, Zuzu which I’m certain you’ve been acquainted with and the cause of your untimely end may have been in the area of your death. If you would be so kind as to point us in the direction of your town we would certainly be happy to drop you off on the way.”
The corpse grows violent, “Your pet did this?! Well I got news for you I ain’t goin’ back! They collected from me once fed my intestines to your pet, hollowed me out and left a nasty surprise where they used to be and they ain’t getting a cent outta me again, kill me!”
A smile creeps across the bosses face, “kind sir if it’s bandits your worried about we are more than qualified to handle them in exchange for your service.”
The corpse let’s out a mocking laugh, “good luck but I learned my lesson already a group of bandits, ok but messing with the IRS nooooo thank you!
The corpse jerks on a string hanging from the outside of his stitched stomach, I hear the faint sound of a tick.
“Head east, follow the moss on the side of the rocks, good luck.” Another tick.
Esteban get down! I’m snatch back quickly. The corpse explodes in a blaze of blue. The boss protects us with an unseen force, its shape being betrayed by the dance of moonlit ash filling the room.
The ash settles and the boss strokes his beard deep in thought muttering and shivering “IRS…”
“Esteban” he utters with a sullen tone. I’ve never heard him like this.
“Yes sir?”
“Prepare a homing pigeon, we’re gonna need some help.”
| 2022-04-11T09:59:36 | 2022-04-11T07:54:10 | 43 | 23 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox
|
I ordered a shot of whiskey,
A slippery nipple and then
I downed six bottles of bud light
And two whiskey sours and gin.
My head is swimming round and round.
My heart is all aflame.
I wonder if my ex is awake I think I'll call him again.
Oh Fuck yeah this is my tune.
Get up!
Let's dance and shout!
This is my jam, my favorite song.
I've got this groove all figured out.
Sweet child o mine, meatloaf, Eminem, and Rhianna.
I'll jump on this table, grab my hand if you wanna.
Oh no the tender is angry,
He is booting me out the door!
It's 2am he explains, its cut off time, no more!
So I walk down the road , lose my keys, and vomit on my shirt. I trip and fall asleep, face first in the dirt.
Here I lie comforted by the cool night air, farting like a sow, but why oh why must I be there?
Because I'm problydrunkrightnow.
|
*Code Orange. Code Orange. We need Doctor Bees in the operating room*
"Over 300 casualties and a few injured. What happened out there?!"
"Doctor, the comb was attacked by a hairy monstrosity. He tore the place apart and it took most of the workers to fend him off"
"Do we have any survivors?"
"Very few, we have drones to cover our losses but it will be hard"
"Who do we have on the table now?"
"Just one so far. He was with the queen an..Oh my gosh. Doctor, Sir Bounce Pennington has major contusions in his lower abdomen. He's bottom half has been ripped apart! He's done for!"
"We need an IV stat!"
"I will not lose another patient. He has diploids at home!"
"He's just a drone sir."
"I don't care what he is! Scalpel now, I can't wait any longer"
| 2016-02-22T11:35:38 | 2016-02-22T11:31:29 | 74 | 30 |
[WP] You have 30 seconds with an ancestor of yours from 200 years ago (1814), before they are transported back to their time. What do you say to them? What effect appears in our world because of it?
Consider for the sake of this prompt that they aren't totally freaked out by being plopped into 2014, that they can understand you, and that they'll continue their life as normal back in their time, only with the knowledge of whatever you told them with your 30 seconds time.
|
"All of them?"
"Yes all of them, or at least a heavy majority."
The dark man peered at me from across the table, distress in his eyes, but also determination. His face was a mask of black and red markings, his hair shaved but for the top, pulled back into a ponytail, with two eagle feathers and blue beads hanging from the tie.
"Then I will kill them all first."
One of two things could happen from my next statement, I could drastically change the course of history, or this could not have any effect at all. "Yes, I think that would be the right choice."
When they first showcased this new technology, they didn't understand the power they unleashed, and now the world wasn't the same. The rich hold 100% of the wealth and power and the poor just had to suffer under their crushing feet. They could take us and throw us into a war at their whim, they tested on us with diseases, with new GMO's, chemicals, they didn't care. It all just came back to them, making them stronger, younger, smarter, at the cost of our lives.
I stared at the man across the table for what seemed an eternity, he was younger then I was, but his eyes held a certain wisdom that could only come from his time. I reached out to clasp his arm, to wish him good luck, but as he reached out for mine, he was gone, just like that, as if he wasn't even there.
When the old Native looked at me, and I looked at him, we didn't look much the same, except for his eyes. Looking into them I could see the same thoughts I would think, the same conclusions I would go through, I knew what he was going to do. I also knew that he would fail, as so many had done in his world, so would he. He would die, before meeting his wife, before having his child, I knew that I no longer wished to live in this world, the way it is now, with all the corruption, all the war and turmoil. I knew, that in the 30 second I had after he left, I would finally be free. I took a deep breath, smiled, and became less then a memory.
|
I was looking at my great great grandfather James Cater and wishing he would have taught his kids not to hate when all of a sudden he appears in front of me. I hear a voice in my head telling me that if I think I can do a better job then I have 30 seconds to make him changes his mind.
James is currently 12 years old and I say to him, one day you are going to have kids and it is important you teach them that everyone and I meam everyone is equal and has a right to their life. If not the world will be a horrible place to be. James says okay he will try and then he is gone.
Let me explain a little something. Apparently my great grandfather was the reason the south won the civil war and ultimately caused America to start being indignant towards the rest of the world in the mid nineteen hundreds Americas president decided to start killing all people that werent "American enough". Well the world retaliated and America is now a wasteland. The bombs from every countries arsenal landed in every city with over 5000 people and the damage done to infrastucture is beyond repair. There wasnt a government left to surrender.
The voice says in my head, lets see how you did. You will keep your memories of this but the rest of the world would never believe you.
All of a sudden my new life floods in. It turns out James made so much of a point about people being equal that his sons went and fought for the north even though they were residents of north carolina.
America fought a tough war but eventually thw north won and the slave were freed. It seems that residual hate of blacks still exists though 149 years after the end of the civil war.
A man named Hitler tried to make the world hate people that were different and the world joined forces to wnsure this would never happen again.
I dont understand why people feel the way they do. Why would anyone want to try and prevent someone from just having a fair shake in life?
I am not sure if the world is better or not but I am now at least proud of my family.
| 2014-05-09T06:58:44 | 2014-05-09T05:25:48 | 71 | 15 |
[WP] Realizing that only a dozen or so users browse the 'NEW' section of /r/WritingPrompts, you understand their roles as gatekeepers. They decide whether the masses ever even see your prompt. You've found these 12 users accounts. And you want that God damn post karma.
|
"Well that sounds suspiciously like vote manipulation," Lexi said, reading the prompt out loud. "I suppose I should bring it to the council of mods."
And so she walked to the grand hall, to stand before the twelve shadowy seats that surrounded the great stone table. She threw the prompt before them, and the mods grew silent.
"Well... We can't really prove anything, can we?" spoke the first mod, his eyes shifting away from the prompt like he was ashamed to see it.
"Yeah," the second one chimed in. "I mean, that could have been all natural upvotes, right?"
"Exactly!" said the next. "Exactly right. It could be that there was twelve people who just really liked it, and thought maybe they could write a story on it."
"Yeah, but-"
"No buts! This is clearly what has happened, and it is the will of the council that this prompt is fair and just."
The nods circled the table, as the collected moderators avoided Lexilogical's gaze. Her eyes narrowed to a slit.
"You all upvoted this one, didn't you?"
Their silence answered the question.
|
'But it'll be meta,' I thought first as I began to type. 'Don't give them the satisfaction of piquing your interest, of bating you into replying.'
But it was too late. Their strategy had worked, almost too well. But I've been laying in bed for two days down and writing is the only thing that's kept my brain from sagging. I'm not even particularly good, but damn it if I don't feel for the prompter as well. We all want a little bit of that *god damn karma* even if we have to resort to posting low-level content.
I'd complain about the prompt if I caught this later. But I saw it first and couldn't pass up a chance to try and float another one up to the front page again.
But I think I'll end this here and go look for a prompt that actually has some merit and charm. So, OP, congrats on the win. We'll see who comes out on top next time.
| 2017-09-07T14:54:54 | 2017-09-07T13:34:20 | 77 | 15 |
[WP] You pray to God, wishing that you will get a boyfriend/girlfriend before you die. He gives you immortality.
|
O Lord in Heaven, I pray to thee,
Do not let me die alone.
I want to feel a woman's touch,
To be loved down to the bone.
Please, Lord, help me so,
Before my heart is overgrown,
With weeds and moss left untrimmed,
Boiled over with love unbrimmed.
"I will grant thy wish," said the Lord,
Smiling ear to ear.
Just look to the sky with open arms,
and salvation you will hear.
I did as such, tears streaming down,
Devoid of spite and fear.
I felt God's love wash over me,
And smiled thinking of what could be.
So I waited; I did not pursue,
Knowing God yet had a plan.
I waited a year, two, then ten,
And still remained but one man.
My skin stayed smooth, soft like silk,
I felt not the millennia's span.
My loved ones died, yet I remained,
Forced to endure a life still pained.
"Why, Lord?" I cried out to the skies,
"Am I one which you so despise?
"Am I not worth more than lies?
"Answer me, O one who's wise."
Only silence greeted me with still voice,
and time passed by without a choice,
I took my life with full rejoice.
Yet my eyes would not close.
The world fell, and rose once more,
Cities faded as I watched, alone.
Earth devoured by its system's core,
And I floated through a world unknown.
A billion years passed, more or less,
Though time was dead to me.
Til one day the Lord confessed,
Why this was my destiny.
"How could you just leave me so?"
I had not the will to even cry.
"My child, this was all for show,"
He spoke with a smile wry.
"To teach you that even when all is lost,
"When the world is ash and oil,
"I'll still be here, no fingers crossed,
"To heal wounds of endless toil."
There we stood in an endless sky,
My eyes now somehow slick.
I looked the Lord right in the eye,
And kicked him in the dick.
----
*I'm a shit poet ^^/r/resonatingfury*
|
I was in the presence of God. I knew it in every fiber of my being. I dropped to the ground, kneeling with my head touching the cold, hard concrete.
His benevolence radiated through my body and when he spoke, all became silent.
"Wait, what?", I asked, lifting my head up. "I'm sorry, Lord, what did you say?"
"Oh, I'm making you immortal."
I stared at him for a minute, then I realized what he meant.
"Um, you see, I was actually thinking that you could just make someone fall in love with me or something?"
"What? Just force someone to like you against their free will? Dude."
*Yeah that sounded pretty bad.* "Couldn't you just set me up with my soulmate or someone with similiar interests?", I scratched the back of my head, this was not going as planned.
"What are you? Twelve? I ain't your fairy godmother," said God.
"Oh," I said, my shoulders drooping, "The thing is, I'm not really good with women."
"Relax, it'll be easy. I'll help out, bro."
---
"Oh wow, you suck," He said, handing me a towel. He had taken the form of a young, well dressed man. "I mean eggnog? Seriously?"
I tried in vain to get the last bits of eggnog out of my hair. The bar behind us roared as it was consumed by a blazing inferno. Sirens rang in the distance.
"I thought you were omniscient? Couldn't you have prevented this or something?", I coughed, the smoke wasn't doing my lungs any good.
"Ya, I can see the future. I just choose not to," God said, "If I did then moments like this wouldn't be half as funny." He snapped his fingers, it began to rain.
I sighed and imagined what it would be like living through the rest of eternity, alone.
"Cheer up, man. Look. I've reconsidered your previous request and I think there might be someone that's happy to meet you," He grinned and his teeth sparkled in the dark.
| 2016-09-21T07:43:39 | 2016-09-21T06:43:12 | 152 | 35 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"I see your plumpness." She crowed. "Oh yes, very wealthy you must be to afford so much food. I'm sure your resounding footsteps set all the ladies a quiver. With this spell, you shall shed your fat. No matter how much you eat you'll not gain it back."
I glanced down at my plump form. It was true, I was heavy, even approaching the fabled "dummy thicc". I'd been trying all sorts of diets, but their gallant efforts were crushed beneath my inexhaustible love of dessert. I sighed.
The witch didn't look the part at all. She was old, sure, elderly even, and she did wear a pointy hat, but the stereotype ended there. She wore thick bifocals and walked with the aid of a walker, complete with little tennis balls on the front. She wore a pastel bath robe over a t-shirt with a kitten hanging from a tree branch, words beneath read "hang in there". Her legs wobbled as she stood.
"I... I don't know what to say. Being fat hasn't been a status symbol in a long, long time. I've been trying to lose weight, actually."
"Oh, I know, deary." She said with a kind smile. "I'm an old witch, though, and all I know is curses, and you're such a nice young man. Now would you care for a treat? The cookies are nearly done."
"I probably shouldn't..." I said, reluctantly.
"Now listen here, I can bottle dreams and brew love, I think I can find my way around some chocolate chips." She began to shuffle back to the kitchen. "It's not like you're going to get any fatter."
I obliged and followed her into the small kitchen, wincing at the peeling linoleum. She fumbled with an oven mitt for a moment. "Do you need help with that?"
The oven door opened and the smell of cookies came wafting out. "I can manage." She said, setting the cookie sheet down across a pair of burners, which wobbled.
I took a brief glance at my surroundings. The house was in a sorry state. The paint was flaking, the window sat crooked. "I'm not really busy this weekend. Maybe I could come over and help you fix up the place?"
"You do something like that you're likely to get a powerful curse coming your way. I've got a few I learned in Egypt a long time ago. Horrible, terrible things."
"Like boils and fever and bad dreams?" I asked, leaning over the dingy little table and accepting a steaming mug of something that the witch slid my way.
"Oh that's kid stuff. I'm thinking more biblical. Maybe from Ezekiel 23." She grinned but I didn't get the reference, and her grin faded as she dropped a lump of sugar into her mug and stirred. "Oh, folks in those days had the strangest idea of what a curse was."
Edit: This was rapidly going nowhere and I didn't want to scrap it and I had a better idea for a much shorter response, which I'll write now.
She cackled. "My most powerful curse! A curse that cannot be undone! I curse you with long life! So that you may watch as your children as I write their destiny. Great your works may be, but they shall pale in comparison to your children, which shall likewise pale in comparison to the works of your children's children. Generation after generation their success will grow until all your work, all you've accomplished will be forgotten beneath their fully realized potential!" She cackled, a hideous sound that slowly faded.
"I... Thank you!" I shouted. That's all any parent wanted, right? For their kids to do better than them.
The witch deflated, then turned around slowly, mumbling "well I don't know what I did wrong that really upset the pharaoh last time I did it."
|
These fools, the Witch thought to herself as she perfected the final touches on her new spell. It didn’t matter how many she killed, didn’t matter how violent and gruesome the death she prepared for them was. It had been hundreds of years and still they would come seeking glory in the face of death, accepting either. They would become martyrs or heroes to their own kind, be written into history for their acts of valour. Be remembered. Leave loved ones behind with stories to tell and rejoice.
Even the scum among them could rise in the act of a valiant death, and she’d seen plenty. It gave them and those around them meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless life. They would endlessly toil, the masses against the few, campaigning to correct the balance of power, finding kinship and community in their actions. It made her sick.
The spell was ready, and so she turned her attention back to the two ‘heroes’ who knelt before her. They had fought bravely against her minions, slaying many, only for the effects of poisons and dark magic to leave them bowed before her, dying. They had nothing left, so few did.
The more powerful of the two was ready for death. She’d seen the look a thousand times, could guess his back story without peering into his mind. A family, once, all lost to him now. All he wished for was a heroic death to depart this world on his own terms, and be with them once more, his name to live on.
The other, the weaker of the two, was scared. His eyes darted between her and the hounds at her side, contemplating the method of death that would surely come at any moment. She let him squirm for a while longer before speaking.
“The punishment that I will exact upon you tonight my esteemed guests, is one that has been centuries in the making. I have pondered many a moon about the most cunning and despairing way to ruin everything that gives you and your kind purpose”
“Just get on with it , you vile demon”, the stronger of the two spoke between swollen gums and clenched teeth.
“Oh I will I assure you, but relax, you have all the time in the world…”. She flashed a beautiful smile at him, her crimson eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
She stood and glided majestically over from her throne to stand between the men, her dark purple gown flowing behind her. The hounds stayed, eyes forward, unflinching.
She touched a flawlessly pearl-white hand to each man’s forehead, summoned her powers and incanted the spell. A gust of wind blew through her lair as the words echoed. Flames danced and her eyes glowed with each sound. After only a few moments, she stopped, let out a deep sigh and returned to her throne. It had been done.
Trembling, the scared man spoke first “ W..W..What did you do to us?”, he said, as he checked himself over, patting down his armour and feeling his face.
Slowly, their wounds began to heal, vibrant colours returning to their faces. They stood, looking at each other, mouths agape, utterly confused.
“You will never die. You will never be hurt. You will have the strength of a sea of men or more”
“So, what’s the downside again?” the scared man said, almost smiling, disbelieving.
“You will have no purpose in life, and your very presence will suck the meaning out of the lives of those around you. You will watch all of your loved ones die, never to be reunited on the other side” she replied , staying at the proud and strong man. His eyes gave her all the satisfaction she needed. He raised a hand, beginning to speak , but with a click of her fingers, they were gone. Her work was done.
“Now , my beautiful beasts, we sit back and watch. This will be most entertaining”
| 2019-06-25T12:08:45 | 2019-06-25T11:40:31 | 126 | 70 |
[WP]At 18 everyone is assigned a job perfect for them. No one ever complains. Upon reading their job assignment card, a teen has found that, for the first time in 100 years, they’ve been assigned “serial killer”.
|
I lazily grabbed the card from the machine, politely thanked the attendant, and walked away dreading what sort of mundane life I looked forward to. Ever since cognitive analytics became a field, machines had been created to scan and determine ideal careers for people.
As part of legislation, it was mandated that machines could not log the jobs generated through the program and that occupations assigned were to be confidential unless people willingly revealed them or they were caught, forcing them to reveal their criminal cards.
The machines understood what people truly wanted to be through psychological analysis and brain scans allowing for people to truly be content in their jobs. No one was ever dissatisfied with their occupations and after the cards were received, they could be revealed to the proper companies allowing for people with cards to start their jobs immediately.
Cards were usually examined in private because there were some cards that were not to be revealed until the bearers of them got caught such as "Thief", "Forger", or "Mugger" cards, and before they were caught, they could say they were artists or other more palatable, freelance occupations as covers.
As I walked away from the crowds of people, I decided to glance at the card I was given wondering what job I had gotten.
I stared curiously at the shiny red text that said, "**Serial Killer**" in clean, bold letters.
While the cards had colored text that determined how common an occupation was, I had never seen anyone with such text.
The common text colors, such as construction workers or retail workers or security guards, were black; the uncommon text colors, such as lower managers or lower cooks or soldiers or common criminals, were grey; the rare text colors, such as for athletes or minor-role actors, were bronze; the ultra rare text colors, such as for politicians or high-level executives or celebrity chefs or higher-level criminals, were silver; and finally, for the rarest colors, such as destined stars or destined celebrity musicians or destined genius visionaries, there were gold letters.
I held the card, curious as to how rare it was, and I quietly went home to research. I used my roommate's computer to look through historical archives and I quickly learned that the last serial killer caught was found 70 years ago at age 48, 30 years after she had received her card. I stared at the shiny red letters as I realized I was likely the first to receive a serial killer card in 100 years.
I smiled as I realized life was not going to be as mundane as I thought it would be.
|
I sat there just stunned, how could this even be an occupation? I went to go ask my local job representative. When I pulled my result card out all it took was them seeing the fuchsia coloration with the cyan stripe on it and they stiffened up saying that cannot discuss occupations with a high ranking official.
That stunned me too, now that I think about it everyone else had plain white cardstock for their occupation results. With the representative babbling about having somewhere to go as he leaves me in his office, I just have too many questions to notice the dark-suited man slip in from behind the bookcase.
"Hello Hubert Draconis the third, you are finally of age to get you destiny handed down to you." He said in an oil slick voice. I am still too absorbed to hear the rest of his speech and subsequent tirade as he slammed the bookcase and left. The books falling down snap me out of my fog, ready to get started on my new career I head out for my first target.
I walk in like I own the place with my weapon of choice tucked between my belt and skin, it has a cold steel bite against my skin, I saunter through the isles. Slowly stalking towards my prey counting the seconds. My heart racing, sweat has now thoroughly made my ass crack evident through my pants.
I have never done this before, I start thinking. Am I capable of this horrible act? Yes, I believe I am, have I not had practice in a sense? All those mornings my parents took care of it for me. Now it was my turn, Tony, Cap, that stupid rabbit would die but my first hit the one I would lose my cereal killer virginity on would be the coocoo.
Thunk, my spoon went completely through his stupid beak spilling out the kibblie lifeblood of his painted characterization. A smile came over my face as people around me looked in confusion as I tore open the box of cereal like an animal. As I left through the back I saw a suited figure looking completely dumbfounded at what he just saw. Feeling quite sure of myself I smiled, winked and through in a thumbs up for good measure to him. I did good and will sleep well tonight.
Thanks for reading! As always constructive criticism is welcome. 👍
Edit: things and stuff
| 2018-08-13T19:22:34 | 2018-08-13T16:28:21 | 542 | 62 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors.
|
The heavy lead door creaked open, 567 defence systems designed by super geniuses turned off with various clicks, hums and hisses as it did, each designed to contain a nuclear blast or cripple a being who could shrug off anti tank rounds, each one the prisoner within that dark knew intimately. He knew what this meant, quite frankly he wished this day would never arrive, the containment was as much for his protection as for everyone else, and already he could feel the tenuous grasp he held on his humanity slip between his fingers like sand. He merely hoped this would not take long.
"How many dead?" He asked simply, straight to the point, short of a global disaster there was no reason to open this accursed cell after all,
"Well over three hundred million and counting, we have lost large chunks of Europe and with each death the rate at which the devastation is occurring increases" The man outside said, his costume a mess of colours and sharp angles was not familiar, but that look in his eyes was, desperation raw and pure just like the faces of those who tried to save him from this fate so long ago now.
"I am sure you know what opening this box means." The man in the cell said, a pulse of energy rushing through the air as if to corroborate his words before being stopped by an invisible barrier
"I do." The hero said, steely resolve filled those words, something the man in the cell knew all too well from before he was this abomination, and it brought a rare smile to his face
"Tell me, who are you lad? I would like to know the man who is to give me my first taste of freedom in decades." The man in the cell asked, the hero blinked twice as if he was prepared for any question but this before answering,
"I am Kyle Brown, I am known as the hero Kaleidoscope and I make portals to anywhere they are needed, who are you may I ask?" Kaleidoscope said as a shimmering gateway to a desolated wasteland opened
"Me? I forgot long ago. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. The last generation called me Damned, the one before Accursed, Blight was another fun one, but there was a time when I was Paragon, a hero who saved. But this ignore the reminiscing of an old man please, I have a job to do." The man in the cell replied in turn, turning around and stepping into that shimmering hole in reality
Somewhere between Europe and Asia a horde of monsters looked up in the sky and saw two suns. The man in the cell had ceased to be in the cell, and has in turn also ceased to be a man, his human form becoming dust in the wind just like it had done decades ago on his last day as a hero, the day a city died. There was no sound, nothing could wistand the wave of terrible radiation and carnage that the thing wrought. By the time the containment team arrived once more to retrieved the cursed man nothing remained but a burnt out husk in the rough shape of a human being, the first hero Paragon, at last at peace.
|
I sleep, in my casket of iron, awaiting the day that I am needed.
It has been like this for some time. How long, I do not know. But it doesn’t bother me, the cold and the dark and the loneliness. It suits me just fine. I remember the day when they first accepted me, however. Their “League of Justice and Protection.” I had been sleeping somewhere else, not unlike my current place; somewhere cold and dark and lonely. Until one day they found me. I didn’t need much convincing to join them; as a matter of fact, they merely just eased me out of the hole I was asleep in, placed me into a box of metal, and carried me off. I did not protest, for as far as I was concerned it was just a move into a different resting spot, and I was fine with that.
While they were carrying me, I heard voices. I didn’t understand what they were saying, nor did I care to know, but they sounded hurried. Excited. It’s been quite some time since I last heard voices.
But today that changed. I heard some sounds, footsteps, coming towards me and where I slept. There were new voices this time, but instead of them sounding excited it was much different. Solemn, somber.
I felt myself be lifted once again, my home jostling slightly. I stayed quiet, listening. Waiting to see what would happen. They put me into a new shell of iron - but this time, while it is cold and dark, I am lonely no more. Instead I am surrounded by a consort of strange machines and countless wires, all cramped into this tiny little casket. And while the buzzing and clicking was a bit annoying, I grew used to it. I tried to go back to sleep. But then there was a loud, thunderous roar, and that odd feeling of being carried. Except, it was growing; higher and higher and higher. All I could hear was the droning and the buzzing and the clicking and the roar of that unseen beast. What was happening? Where was I being taken?!
And then all at once, the roar stops. The feeling of height is suddenly replaced with the sensation of *falling.* I am scared. So scared. There’s a whistling, louder and louder and louder, until eventually it grows so loud that I cannot hear anything else but that sound. It pierces my mind - I can’t think of *anything* but that sound.
I hope wherever I am going, it is peaceful and quiet, and that I am disturbed no more.
—
*”We just got an urgent update folks, and it appears that the League of Justice and Protection has unexpectedly declared war on the entire human race. They released this statement to multiple different news stations and social media websites shortly after an unmarked aircraft dropped a thermonuclear bomb on New York City, with an estimate of 3.2 million casualties and counting. We have more news coming in the next 30 minutes, so stay tuned, folks.*
*...May God help us all.”*
| 2021-05-26T04:52:38 | 2021-05-26T04:32:48 | 566 | 102 |
[WP]You summon a demon in order to complete a ritual in exchange you offered all your remaining lifespan. "17 billion years...I'm can't handle that amount" it answered with a mix of shock and horror.
|
"... 17 billion years?" I asked.
"You... don't know?" Reliqua said. His voice and stance had changed dramatically since his first words. Once cocky and self-assured, a prime recreation of terror, he now impishly shifted his weight from foot to foot, barely daring to look at me.
"No," I said. I turned my hands back and forth, staring at them. They looked the same. Didn't grow ancient or anything, just because I knew my lifespan now. "I'm only 25. I thought I was at my quarter-life crisis."
"Your what?"
"Eh," I shrugged. My hands flopped back to my side. "What do I do now, demon?"
"What?" Reliqua nervously chittered. "What do you do? You have 17 billion years to live. You will be here after me. I cannot consume your power. Might implode. Into little chunks and pieces. All over your nice bedroom."
I looked around my room, then. Typical. Nothing much. Huh. I guess I always thought this room and its contents would outlive me. Especially that stupid crack on the wall besides my bed. Oh, and the pentagon I drew on the ground with pig's blood. Guess it'll fade away before I die. I wonder if Mum will accept that as an excuse.
"Reliqua, is it?" I asked.
"Yes," he said.
Not going to lie--I am enjoying this position of power. I thought I would be the one prostrate on the floor, begging the demon not to kill me. But this? This wasn't so bad.
"Can you tell if I'm human?"
"Er," Reliqua hemmed. "I... believe so? You look like one. Feel like one. It's why I answered the call in the first place. It's why I see your life. If it wasn't a human, I wouldn't be here. But your life force..."
"Do you have any idea why, Reliqua?"
"No, sire," he said. An inadvertent slip due to nerves? Or do I have a demon servant now? "I can't help you. I'm... not a great demon."
"But I summoned a great demon," I said.
"Well," Reliqua scratched his head. "It's just... they tend to not answer? And send us? Not that humans can tell the difference, generally. And they have such pitiful lifespans that I have enough power to grant them what they wish. It's always--"
"--Love?" I interrupted.
"--Money. It's always money. That's power on this realm, apparently," Reliqua said.
"Well. That makes sense as well," I cleared my throat.
17 billion years. That's a long time.
"Is it possible that there's anybody else like me?" I said.
"Sire," Reliqua bowed. "I'm quite sure there is no human like you."
I rubbed my chin. I guess the 'sire' thing wasn't just a slip of the tongue.
"I have two questions, Reliqua," I said.
"Yes," Reliqua bowed. Still high-strung. Anxious. But willing.
"One. You said only human, right? Do any other... beings live that long?" I asked.
"I'm sure they do, sire," Reliqua said. "After all, some of my masters... they've been here since the Dawn. And some of their masters as well," he continued, pointing upwards.
"That's about how many years ago?"
"4.5 billion," Reliqua said.
He's very helpful.
"Two, then. These 17 billion years... could I just die if a car ran me over?"
"That's not how your remaining lifespan works," Reliqua said. "It gets shaved off, minute by minute, based on the actions you choose to take. Sometimes, even exceedingly dangerous thoughts can..."
The demon trailed off. He muttered under his breath.
"Sire?"
"I'm sorry, Reliqua," I said. "It seems I have one more question."
He gulped.
"Er, sure?"
"Can you bring me to Hell? I feel like I'll be able to understand more about my situation."
Reliqua stared at me. Awe? Fear? Stupidity? I was well aware of what I said.
But come on, 17 billion years.
"Hell?" Reliqua coughed.
"Hell. Not like you can bring me to heaven, right?"
"... No."
"Then Hell it is," I said, grabbing Reliqua's wrist. Like grasping a hot sausage off the grill. "Come on. What's the worst that could happen?"
Reliqua swallowed.
"Probably a hell of a lot of things, sire."
---
[Part 2 here!](https://www.reddit.com/r/dexdrafts/comments/mpbko8/to_hell_with_part_2/?)
r/dexdrafts
|
Laying out the 6’x6’ stencil that formed a near-complete circle, I shook the can of spray paint in my hand rapidly before spreading an even coating along void. Waiting patiently as it dried, counting the seconds off in my head, I then moved the stencil clockwise several inches and covered the two areas that had had overlaps of cardboard.
Once my canvas was complete, I started the painting, as it were, the thick Sharpie in my hand sliding elegantly across the marble flooring of the mausoleum. This kind of manual work was something I hadn’t done for ages, but it came back like riding a bike. Years practicing calligraphy for sigils was something you never forgot.
With the last sigil in place, I slid my pocketknife gently across the back of my arm and dripped the blood into the circle, folding the knife one-handed and tucking it away. The words came to my lips like I’d been born to say them, the language smooth and flowing, and yet something in me recoiled against it, of course. Because of what I was calling.
The circle became awash with smoke before it whirled away into nothing, leaving behind a young man. He stood, hands in the pockets of his jeans, wearing a dark blue shirt, staring at me with a small smile that held promise of many dangerous things. “You rang?”
“I did,” I said softly. “To make a deal.”
The demon’s eyebrows rose. “You don’t waste any time, do you? No foreplay?”
“Haven’t the patience for it,” I replied.
He pouted. “No fun. Seems like you’re old hat at this. How many years have you traded away already?”
“Not quite accurate,” I said. Admittedly, I was enjoying the way he was looking at me. Something behind his eyes that showed he knew I wasn’t the average human looking to make a deal. Not the typical foolish mortal gambling with eternity. And he didn’t like it. In these situations, the demons were usually at the reins, steering the conversation and the tone, and that wasn’t the case here. It bothered him.
“Well then, what do you want?” he finally asked, looking exasperated at this point.
“Some serious power,” I answered. “Why don’t you see what I have to offer? What could my remaining lifespan get me?”
Shrugging, the demon’s eyes flickered black and he stared into my eyes. Then, bit by bit his eyes widened and his face went slack, alarm visible in his expression, and then terror, prompting him to stumble back until he hit the invisible cage of the circle. His eyes shifted back to their normal human appearance as he blinked rapidly to dispel what he was looking at. “Seventeen…billion years…I can’t…handle that amount,” he managed, his snarky instincts coming through despite what he’d just seen. I just let my smile widen a smidge, let the moment linger. He swallowed. “What are you?”
“*Who* is the better question,” I said softly, taking a few steps forward until I was an inch from the barrier of the circle. His lips twitched in wariness as he continued to stare. “Fancy a guess, Forneus?”
At his name, he flinched as if slapped, real fear in his eyes now. “I don’t…” He stared guardedly. “Michael?” he whispered.
I tilted my head forward an inch. “In the flesh.” I cocked my head. “So to speak.”
The demon shifted his weight, looking around as if for an exit, and I could almost see his skin crawling, his muscles tensing to run even when there was no escape to be found. “Why me?”
“Why not?” I shrugged. “I suppose you’re well placed for what we need.”
“What you *need*?” he snapped, rage finally coming to the surface. “I’m a demon, not a hooker, and I-” He stopped, realizing, and I gave him credit for that. “We?”
“Lucifer is making moves on the chessboard,” I explained. “He needs to be put in his place.”
Fresh horror appeared on Forneus’s face. “Do you think I’m insane?”
“This comes straight from the top,” I said slowly. “So, back to our original conversation. Back to basics. How much do need to get this done?”
Comprehension bloomed on his face and, despite himself, his eyes turned black again as his instincts scented prey. He wasn’t greedy though, I knew that much about him, and he wasn’t foolish. He didn’t answer right away, and when he did, it wasn’t with a number, or even a follow up inquiry.
He took a breath. “What exactly will I need to do?”
&#x200B;
/r/storiesbykaren
| 2021-04-11T00:24:09 | 2021-04-10T20:44:19 | 411 | 277 |
[WP] The goblins who dwell just outside your village are small and dumb –in an oddly endearing way. The villagers humor their innocuous raids and sometimes even give them advice. In the village’s darkest hour, the goblins send aid.
|
Pilpo once stole a tomato in a village raid and it stood proudly on a cave stone for weeks before it went bad. "Good raiding," elder Gilgich had told him when he returned with the oversized cherry. "Keep that up and you will be head goblin one day."
After that day, he had invented a new walk. Something to distinguish him from the rest of his litter. It was swanky. Like the human vegetable guardians. His cousin Blurg had said of his walk, "It makes me think you are some *new* kind of goblin," and ever since Pilpo had remained in a sort of trance.
Pilpo was watering his now-stinky tomato, trying to help it spring back to life, when Adora walked in on him. She had the greenest legs a goblin could ever want. Her teeth spiraled every which way, splendid and yellow, as if sculpted by the primordial goblins themselves.
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, I'm just watering my loot."
She smiled. "You must have been scared."
"Scared?"
"Yeah. Running away from all those humans."
In fact, none of them had given chase. With great stealth, Pilpo had reached for the wooden container of tomatoes in the place of the market, but it was too high up. He stood there, jumping, and all of a sudden a tomato fell onto his head. "Oopsie," the vegetable guardian had said. Before she got the chance to reclaim her treasure, Pilpo had seized it. And strangely, the human villagers had pumped their fists and clapped as he raced back home.
"The only thing I'm scared of is being crushed by the weight of my own ambitions."
Saying it felt good. But the look on Adora's face after he said it felt not-so-good. "Oh," she said.
"Forget that. Want to grab some grub?"
"Sure," she said and as they walked Adora put his hand over her shoulder.
"W-What are you doing?"
"I know you are a hero, but even heroes need some support when they are hurt."
"Hurt?"
"Yes. I could tell from the absurd way that you walk."
Pilpo and Adora became an item and elder Gilgich turned out to be right: Pilpo took on the role as head goblin and under his rule the raids grew more frequent and more bountiful. Over time it became clear that the humans did not particularly mind their raids. They would offer them candies and beer and give them pats on their heads for good luck. "We consider you our mascots," said one of them, and Pilpo understood at once the significance of this word he had never heard before. Mascots. Protectors of humanity.
He wasn't quite sure *how* they were protecting the humans. Didn't they just steal their food? Somehow, they did it in such a way that it made them feel protected. Pilpo had a deep conversation on the topic with elder Gilgich before he passed, and the elder had said, "They must have sensed our honorable spirits."
One day, dark smoke flew by the goblin cave. It came from the direction of the village. The humans. They were in danger.
Pilpo assembled a team of the finest goblins one could ever desire. Bulb, Blurg, Hakko, Zeb--they were raiders and warriors through and through.
"Be careful," said Adora and there were tears in her eyes.
Their children, innocent little gobs, cried because they were afraid something would happen to their dear father. "Don't worry," said Pilpo. "Everything will be just fine."
The goblins raced to the village carrying buckets of water. When they arrived, they saw the humans standing still around a great fire. They were terrified and could not even act. They simply gazed at the flames and held hands for comfort.
Pilpo ran between their legs and he threw the water at the flames and following his example the others got to work as well. At first, the humans looked puzzled. They had been convinced that this fire would be the end of it all, and they were not prepared to be rescued. Certainly not by goblins. Soon their panic turned to ecstasy as they realized that their mascots with honorable spirits had come to their aid.
The humans snapped out of their state of helplessness, and they hurried to join the goblins in their efforts to put out the fire. It didn't take long before they were all throwing water at the flames and little by little it surrendered to their valor and all that was left was ash and smoke.
Pilpo, Bulb, Blurg, Hakko, and Zeb were tossed into the air and celebrated as heroes. After, they were welcomed to a feast. Pilpo was amazed to see how quickly they had prepared it. They dined like kings and once they were full they said their goodbyes. "Here, bring some home for the rest," said a vegetable guardian and she gave them tomatoes and potatoes and broccoli and other valuable treasures as a reward for their good deed.
They returned to the goblin cave triumphant. Adora gave Pilpo a hug and a kiss. "You are surely the bravest goblin who ever lived."
The goblins held a celebratory feast. Pilpo made sure to save one tomato, and as he placed it on the familiar cave stone he became misty-eyed at the memory of elder Gilgich. "Your honorable spirit lives on in me," he said, and he thumped his chest.
As the goblins danced, sang, and laughed, Pilpo could feel the warmth of the primordial goblins in his heart. They were protectors. Mascots. And though they had no swanky walk to show it, Pilpo somehow knew that they were all some kind of new goblin.
|
# The Baker and the Goblin
"Me take," the goblin said, "me take!"
Cotlin continued walking, ignoring the goblin clinging to his trousers. It was midday, and Cotlin was on his way to deliver freshly baked bread to the local tavern when a goblin started trying to steal from him. *They sure are persistent,* Cotlin thought.
As the son of the village's only breadmaker, Cotlin started apprenticing under his father at the early age of 4. He enjoyed it at first—the rewarding feeling of creating something out of a seemingly disparate group of ingredients, and turning it into an assortment of fresh bread of all shapes and sizes. The sound, the taste, and the *smell*—it was all so exciting.
Two decades later, Cotlin slowly found out that he *hated* this path. Day in and day out, it was all the same. He would bake three baskets of bread—one for the tavern, one for the villagers, and one for the devotaries. After delivering them all, he would go home, rest, and repeat the same routine all over again. It was exhausting.
That is, until the goblins showed up.
"Gah, me take!" the goblin insisted.
Cotlin *did* bake an extra bun for himself in this batch. He stared at the goblin, who was now also clinging to his apron. Its eyes were wide, like that of a tiny baby feline pleading for scraps. "Fine," Cotlin said, "I'll give you half of my bun if you stop clinging on to my garments.'"
The goblin gave the widest grin, then let go of Cotlin's trousers. He took out the bun, tore it in half, and gave one to the little rascal. The goblin stared at it in awe, then looked back at Cotlin. It nodded its head appreciatively, "Thank human!". It started biting into the bun half.
"You're welcome," Cotlin said. "Do you have a name?"
The goblin finished chewing its bread, dropping crumbs on the dirt path, "Gleck!"
"*Gleck*? Well, if you say so. Nice to meet you, Gleck," Cotlin said.
Gleck nodded its head in what looked like agreement.
"You know, Gleck, if you just ask the villagers around here nicely, I'm sure most of them would be happy to give you food, like I did."
Gleck swallowed the last of its bun, then tilted its head in confusion. "But me like stealing!"
"Y-Yeah, but... ah, forget it. You guys are harmless, so I guess it's fine."
Gleck nodded again. As Cotlin was walking toward the tavern, he noticed that Gleck was marching alongside him in the most exaggerated stride possible.
"You're still following me, huh?"
"Me like bread human!"
Cotlin stared at Gleck, then sighed. "Ok, just *don't* cause any trouble while I do my chores."
"Me no trouble!"
Cotlin and Gleck walked along the dirt path leading to the tavern. A couple of villagers were walking this way and that, going about their daily chores. *Just like I am,* Cotlin thought.
After dropping off the bread in the tavern, Cotlin went out to gather some mushrooms for the filled bread rolls he was baking tomorrow. Gleck was marching alongside him, gawking at each villager who passed them. Some goblins were roaming the streets, but Gleck didn't pay them any mind.
They reached the forest outside of the village, and Cotlin spotted a cluster of mushrooms a couple of paces away. As he crouched down to pick a few, he noticed that Gleck froze—shocked.
Cotlin turned his head to see what Gleck was looking at, and he saw it. An *orc*.
It's been fourteen years since the last orc raid on their village. Cotlin was only ten at the time, but he remembered it clearly. The fires, the chaos, the casualties...
Father.
He can't think about that now. Cotlin needed first to figure out how to get away. If they sneak off quietly, their chance of—
*Too late.*
The orc spotted the two of them. It was far away, but it was *running* in their direction. Cotlin turned to run, but he noticed that Gleck was still standing there. *Dear gods, is it still frozen in shock?*
He was about to grab Gleck, when suddenly, it made a high-pitched call. It drew a dagger from its belt.
Cotlin stood there, confused. "What are you doing, Gleck? We have to run!"
"You no worry, bread human. We kill."
*We?*
Five goblins jumped out of the depths of the forest, each with a knife in their hand. The orc spun around, addled by the ambush. All six goblins, including Gleck, charged at the orc, screaming.
The orc tried swinging its club around, but all six goblins dodged with surprising dexterity. In a brilliant display of coordination, they stabbed the orc in several critical areas—the neck, the spine, the stomach, an eye, and the orc's double heart.
The orc bellowed, then fell to the ground, lifeless. The goblins stood over the orc's corpse. Gleck turned around to look at Cotlin.
"We kill. We protect all human."
*Looks like my life is going to be a* lot *more interesting,* Cotlin thought.
---
I hope you liked this story! Please feel free to leave feedback as it will help me a lot in my journey to becoming a better writer! Join r/NovaLevelStories for more!
| 2022-05-26T08:33:39 | 2022-05-26T08:32:14 | 129 | 83 |
[WP] You are forced to live the same life over and over again, with no memory carrying over. But you always receive a note once you turn 21, from when you were last on your deathbed.
|
I lay on the sterile hospital bed as moniters beeped and lights hummed and flowers smelled oh, so sweet. As I drifted between sleep and awake, so did my thoughts drift until they bumped against an old memory.
I pressed the non emergency button to ask a nurse to bring me a notecard and a pen. I gave no other descriptors, yet the pen was the same color ink, and the card was sized and lined the same as the one from my memory. I flipped it to the blank side and copied:
"To: Springtime
From: Autumn"
On the other side, I changed it up a bit.
"Happy 21st birthday. Enjoy today, but on your 36th, get checked for heart cancer, you will not regret it. If you wait for the stabbing pain a year later, it will be too late.
To pass on the wisdom I gained today a lifetime ago, the jackpot numbers on December 17th this year are 23 13 54 07 69 26. Save the winnings, you'll need it."
With that, I placed the card between the last two written pages of my current diary. I couldn't explain the first card. All I know is those numbers were real. The numbers on the card I found in my diary 16 years ago gave me money I squandered. Money I then didn't have for tests, for treatments. It also didn't give me warning for my death sentence. Oh well. If there is magic, I did my best. If not, surely no one would judge a dying person for giving advice to a past self?
And with that, my final words are written, and I fall.
- - - - - -
50 years ago, I found a notecard in my diary with lottery numbers and date to be checked for cancer. Both were revealed in time to be accurate. I still have that card, in fact. It is yellowing and fading now, but a month ago, right after I had my first stroke, I bought a pack of new but otherwise identical cards. I took one and wrote on one side,
"To: Springtime
From: Autumn"
And on the other,
"Happy birthday. As a present to future you, book an appt. for 15 years later to check for heart cancer. It will be difficult and expensive, but you will live to see 71. Then you get to worry about a series of strokes. Live healthier than I did and you will be fine.
the jackpot numbers on December 17th this year are 23 13 54 07 69 26, and on June 9th Powerball numbers are 72 50 29 96 04 39 and PB 51. "
And as I slipped this card into my diary, I fell asleep to the sounds of birds outside my window and and the smell of grass mown not even an hour ago.
- - - - - -
Many cycles later
- - - - - -
16 years ago on my 21st birthday, I found a notecard in my diary. It was filled, front and back with tiny, chickenscratch marks I learned was Chinese. Three lines of characters per line marked on the card. When put through a translator, it gave so much information. Information on how to make money; lottery numbers, stocks to invest in and when, a few major sports matches that maximize my bank account. They were all accurate. This was all the first line and a half.
Then came the novel of info. Theories on what is happening, some kind of time loop? Is it voluntary? Do we dare risk using anything other than an identical notecard and blue ink? Do we have to address it to springtime from autumn? Do we dare risk breaking the cycle to be able to use a larger piece of paper to write a proper letter? Being able to write in our native language instead of the most compact written language in the world?
Then it goes into the health stuff. The longest iteration was 107 years old when she died. 107 years worth of "do this" and "don't do that" and diagnosis dates and things both in and out of our control.
When I hold this card, this little piece of paper, I feel exausted. The ink has long since smudged past legibility, but I have a copy saved. Even if I didnt, I know the words by heart. 10 years ago I found a notecard in my diary that told the future using the past. Today I vowed to make the next lifetime better.
As a heart rate moniter beeped and flowers smelled sweet, I reached for the fresh notecard and pen in the diary beside my bed. I flip the blank side up.
"To: Springtime
From: Autumn"
And on the other,
"Happy 21st birthday.
Derek wants to kick your ass at darts now that you're actually allowed to go drinking with him.
Don't forget to go to the 4th of July fireworks with mom and dad. They appreciate this tradition more than you know.
You only have one shot at this, so breathe it in and make it count."
As my strength faded, I hoped with all my heart that whoever finds that note on their 21st birthday, they live a happier life than mine.
|
By The Time You Read This
“By the time you receive this note, you’ll have been dead for 21 years”. The note, weathered with, apparently, nearly a quarter centuries time felt heavy in my hands. The contents of the letter were wild, unbelievable even, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that it was true. It’s author seemed to know too much to dismiss as a prank or some other fiction, as much as I wanted to. Even the hand writing matched perfectly. This letter was written by me, though not in this life, and not in this time. Aside from my identifying details, such as birthmarks described before I was born to have them,the letter also contained a single clue as to how I could find out more.
Second Capitol Bank
Safe Deposit Box #702
PIN 6745
Open Box Alone
The teller handed my ID back to me before standing up from her desk and motioning for me to follow her back to the small room at the back of the room. The heavy-looking, imposing vault door was currently swung off to the side, leaving a glass door with a keypad handle blocking the way. The teller covered the keypad with her hand and I turned away instinctively. A long beep followed four shorter ones and I turned back in time to see her turn the handle and pull the door open. I thanked her, before entering the room and began my search for box 702. A few moments later I had found it, made all the easier by the numeric keypad, which stood out from the rest of the boxes which appeared to have conventional locks. With slight trepidation, I entered the code found on the note. A green light lit up on its face and the small door popped it a open with a click.Reaching into the compartment, I found a thick manila envelope with a few small lumps and one rather large one in it. I set it on the table in the center of the small room and looked up to see the teller still watching me, arms crossed over her chest and steel eyes fixed on me.Somewhat timidly, I asked if I could have a moment of privacy to look at the contents of the envelope. She looked at me, pushing up he rglasses before silently nodding and turning to resume her post at the counter. Once I was alone, I shook the contents onto the table. The two smaller objects fell out of the envelope, a thumb drive and a key, as well as a folded note. The bigger object seemed slightly stuck so I shook it a bit harder. The sound of steel clattering on the steel table seemed as loud as a car wreck as the final object fell from the envelope onto the table. A gun, sleek and small for what it was sat in front of me for what seemed like forever, but was probably only a second. I scooped it up quickly, stuffing it into the rear of my waist band without even thinking. My heart hammered in my chest, threatening to burst from the anxiety. I don’t know what my past self was up to, but this was not a good start. I looked up, but business in the bank seemed normal, so I assumed no one saw the gun.I picked up the note and opened it.
I’m sorry
2243NW Atlas Ave
Pewter Bay City
“I’m sorry”? I read aloud, just as confused as I had been for this whole ordeal. I looked up through the glass door, trying to plot a route that would keep my backside away from as many people as possible before I saw a sight that made my blood run cold. Two men in black suits were talking to the teller and after a pause, she turned and pointed directly at the vault. Directly at me.
My legs felt weak and I began to panic. I stuffed the drive and the key into my pocket and rushed out of the vault. As soon as I did , the men spotted me and began walking towards me. One of them pushed aside his jacket as he walked, revealing a gun of his own. I looked around, briefly thinking of pulling my own gun first, but stopped myself when I saw the fire alarm on the wall. I pulled it and immediately began running for the exit. The lights flashed and the siren pierced the air. The men tried to push through the crowd to reach me, but the panicked masses were pushing too tightly for them to break through. I slipped into the middle of the pack and got lost in it as we left the building.
As soon as I had reached the outside I ran. I took as many twists and turns as I possibly could, sprinting down alleys and side streets before eventually collapsing behind a dumpster and trying desperately to catch my breath. My lungs burned and I spent several minutes coughing and hacking before finally settling enough to think. Whoever those men were, it was obvious they were looking for me, and their guns seemed to imply that they weren’t looking to talk. I pulled the note from my pocket and looked at the address again. Pewter Bay City was all the way on the other side of the state, but I didn’t think it would be safe for me at home. Probably not safe anywhere in town. With a sigh, I stood up from my hiding place and looked around to make sure I wasn’t being followed. I guess it was time for me to head off.
| 2021-12-02T00:40:14 | 2021-12-01T21:38:26 | 85 | 31 |
[WP] You are immortal, but a quirk of your condition also renders the person nearest to you immortal as well. A selfish king obsessed with living forever has gone to extreme lengths to keep you as the closest person to them at all times.
|
For centuries, the two immortals stared each other down, neither moving nor willing to let the other. In the isolation of their tomb, both had long since forgotten which was the immortal and which the king. They had both wielded power unlike any in the world. For one, his words were like the incantation to a spell. Everything he commanded came to fruition. The other, his will was divine decree. Everything he wanted, he eventually got.
But now, the king had nobody to speak to and the immortal had shared his gifts with the one person who had bound him inside this tomb.
"Charles," Leo said, though he didn't know if the name referred to him or the king. They had switched names quite a bit. The last time they had re-established roles, the iron on their cuffs had finally rusted through. He was pretty sure that he was the immortal. "Why go through the effort?"
"To keep you from this world," The supposed king, Charles, replied. Though he also wasn't sure if he was the one being kept from the world.
"That's not what happened when we had first met."
The immortal always had a flair for the dramatic. Life was of no consequence to him, nor pain and suffering. It was all just something to fade from memory. So when they had first met, he had stabbed the king through the heart, just to prove his worth.
Charles closed his eyes. "I thought that together, we could do great things, build monuments the world would never forget, spread wealth and wonder to the edges of the sea."
"And what have we done?" Leo asked.
They both turned to the hieroglyphics. In the countless years that had passed, those carvings were all the connected them to the written word. Every hour every day, the sun came at just the right angle to highlight one. It spelled *The Great Pyramid of Giza*.
"Is that not enough?" He continued.
"At the cost of thousands of lives? At the birth of sacrificial rituals to some pagan god?" Charles shook his head. "You forever stained my legacy."
"But you have a legacy because of me. It is written in the walls of our tomb, forever kept for your readership."
Charles breathed out a sigh. "Why introduce me your rituals? Your power did not come from any of them. The people we killed, for what?"
A smile curled onto Leo's lips. "For fun of course."
The two stopped talking because through the stone walls, they could hear the muffled echo of footsteps. Then, the walls quaked and a metal hammer sliced through, crumbling the rock. The two turned and caught blinding light. They were thieves, here to ransack the pyramid.
"Don't let him out!" Charles screamed, but it was already too late.
Leo sprinted past the thieves and their magic hammer and immediately fell to the floor dead.
Charles stared at the corpse, his lips quivering.
He was the immortal.
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day plus continuations by popular request.
|
(First time responding to a prompt, and it was fairly rushed, so sorry for the fairly bad writing \^\^')
The coronation of the princess had an air of apprehension to it.
Her father, the long-lived King, had been a ruthless dictator, but while she seemed a far lesser evil, the mystery surrounding his disappearance still lingered.
People were relieved that the vindictive man no longer ruled them, but the fear he had instilled over the past half century could not so easily be washed away. His ageless face, twisted into a sadistic smile in any portrait he had commissioned, barely changed over his reign.
Before her coronation, the princess made bold, revolutionary claims to bring peace, prosperity, and freedom to her people.
"I cannot change my father's sins, nor can I erase them," her voice echoed across homes throughout the country.
"But I can make change. I can lead us forward, in a new direction. I can refuse to make the same mistakes. I hope you can all join me, and together we can push for a brighter future."
Crowds cheered on as she was crowned the new Queen.
The loud cheers outside the Cathedral could be heard far and wide.
The din, faint with distance, even fell on the King's ears, although he wasn't sure of anything anymore.
The pain, the agonising pain was too much. Far too much.
The room was filled with his blood, parts of his tattered flesh lying in scraps on the ground.
He lay there groaning in agony as his body repeatedly weaved new skin over the same wounds.
"Stop! Stop! I beg of you, please, stop this!" he begged fruitlessly.
"Did you stop when he begged you?" the woman asked him coldly. "Did you stop when he pleaded for his freedom?"
"You were mine," the King spat, blood dribbling down his chin. "You were always to be mine. You did not belong with him."
"He was my love!" she yelled.
Another crack of the whip; another scream from the King. A fresh, hot line torn across his chest.
"Your gift made you only fit for me," the King continued. "Only fit to be *my* Queen."
Her eyes narrowed as she slashed at him again with the whip. The crowds continued to cheer in the distance.
"Please stop!" he cried out. "Just let me die!"
She looked up at him and smiled cruelly. "I figured you'd be proud of me. You always complained how I never had the stomach for your proclivities."
Readying the whip again, she flashed the same sadistic smile he had become famous for.
"What did you always say? Why go for the kill when suffering can be dealt far more than just once?"
---
EDIT: Made some slight tweaks to some words to try and clear up ambiguity. The Queen is not the King's daughter, she's his wife. The princess being coronated is their daughter.
| 2017-05-13T06:50:28 | 2017-05-13T05:49:31 | 1,785 | 1,201 |
[WP] You are hired to write the holy text for a new religion. What is the first chapter of the text?
|
Ingredients:
4 tbsp^10^10^10 Hydrogen
3 tbsp^10^10^10 Helium
2 tbsp^10^10^10 Oxygen
1 tbsp^10^10^10 Nitrogen
1/2 cup Carbon
Any additional Iron, Sulfur and Magnesium (to taste)
Directions:
Preheat eternal fire to 425 F
In one large (3+ quart) mixing bowl, combine ingredients with whisk, adding food coloring as necessary.
Grease one large cookie sheet and spoon mixture into random globules several million lightyears apart.
Bake for 4 (four) billion years.
Remove from eternal fire and let cool for 3 (three) billion years.
Serve with cold milk on vast and sugar-speckled dark serving tray. Do not freeze. Serves billions upon billions.
|
First things first: I'm the realest.
Second: don't kill, lie, cheat or steal it.
I won't be leading you forever
So you all have got to learn how to hold the world together.
I am mercy, and give plenty second chances.
But I am mystery, and won't give you all the answers.
You will someday have to face the darkness once again
And that fear's what makes you brave, and brilliantly human.
So find stength in your weakness; and in your smallness find weight.
Know that under all the void's pressure, you won't break.
Just don't misuse my words to make yourself wealth and fame
And don't ever hurt or kill to prove or impeove my name.
| 2015-01-04T14:30:28 | 2015-01-04T13:45:06 | 106 | 70 |
[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
|
The main problem with our situation was plane ticket prices.
See, like most wannabe indie girls, I had always wanted to travel after college. Live in summertime for a couple years, write a poem in every continent, cheesy stuff like that. I wanted to meet all kinds of different people. I wanted to visit cat cafes, which New York was severely lacking. I guess… I guess I also wanted to see just how far the strange godly bond between my ex-girlfriend and I could stretch. Maybe if I moved across the ocean, I told myself, then I wouldn’t have this problem anymore.
As it turned out, the godly bond stretched at least from New York to Spain. It also stretched from New York to Israel, and to Panama, and to Shanghai. No matter where I went, whenever my ex needed me (the definition of need was *definitely* subjective here), I would be godly transported right to her side. Aphrodite doesn’t play around, not even if you were only 15 and mostly joking when you told her you’d always be there when she was in trouble.
Anyways, I’m getting off track. The plane tickets. The plane tickets were what really made the whole thing hell, because although Aphrodite had the goodness in her heart to teleport me places, she never quite found the time to teleport me back. And although Addie always offered to split the ticket price, I never took her up on it. Would’ve felt like stealing. After all, it was my dumb ass who got us into this mess.
Italy was something new. After a couple weeks in Egypt I figured I’d turn back to Eastern Europe. I’d taken a red-eye, rented a car and driven to the motel I’d rented in Florence. Just as I finished unpacking my suitcase, I felt the first tugging sensations in my stomach. *God damn it.*
I scrambled to grab a hold of my Epi-Pen and my phone. Generally, everything that was touching my skin got transported along with me, wherever I was going. Back in college, we’d tried to use it to smuggle drugs but I guess Aphrodite didn’t approve of that sort of thing.
The room spun. I squeezed my eyes shut, crouching, bending my head down until my forehead pressed against my knees. Don’t throw up, I told myself. Don’t throw up.
If you’ve ever been teleported by a goddess, then you know how the middle part feels. If you haven’t, there isn’t much use trying to explain it to you.
When I opened my eyes, I was standing on the edge of a highway. Black asphalt bled into a stretch of grass dotted with wildflowers. Beyond that I could see a forest. It was spring, a 60 degree day, and my stomach was about ready to reject everything I’d eaten in the past 24 hours.
“I was just thinking about you,” a voice called.
I turned around.
Addie was sitting crisscrossed on the trunk of her silver Mini Cooper, cheerful as ever. She wore a pair of faded overalls and scuffed up sneakers. I hadn’t seen her in a couple weeks, but she looked healthy, brown skin almost glowing in the sunlight.
Of course we met like this. Her, looking like some kind of goddess, and me, fresh off a two hour car ride preceded by a three hour flight preceded by five hours of delays at the airport. “Hi,” I said, waving my hand with the Epi-Pen. “Car troubles?”
Addie nodded. “Did I wake you up?” Her eyebrows scrunched together in concern.
I shook my head, rubbing at my eyes a little. “Another ten minutes and you might have, though,” I said.
“I’m sorry, Zoey.”
“Don’t worry about it. You know, at least you didn’t catch me on the plane. Again.”
Addie laughed. Her laugh was best when you caught her off guard. “Yeah, yeah. Fix my car, Miss Mechanic.”
I had to pop the hood of the car, then, before I did something stupid.
I mean, it wasn’t like we were out of the question or anything. We’d dated for a couple weeks in tenth grade, unanimously decided that we weren’t quite ready to come out to any parents yet and put the whole thing on hold. Of course, then we’d gone off to different colleges and Addie had gotten a new girlfriend and that was the end of that. The only reason my weak romantic heart still held out hope was because after ten years and two other girlfriends, I’d been the only one to stay.
My *staying* might have been entirely the fault of some vicarious goddess, but the point still stood.
“You awake down there?” Addie called, from the driver’s seat.
I snapped to awareness. “I cleaned your spark plugs,” I told her. “Try starting it now.”
She pressed the key into the ignition, and the car hummed to life. “You are a *goddess*,” she cheered.
“You must be thinking of the crazy one up there,” I said, pointing up towards the sky.
Addie leaned out of the car window. She smiled at me, a slow, sweet thing. It made her look fifteen again. “If you have time, I’ve just downloaded all of Firefly onto my computer.”
I swallowed. “Thanks, but I should probably be heading back to Italy.” I couldn’t manage to meet her eyes.
“Zoey,” Addie said.
I looked at her, really looked at her. She was making her puppy dog face, the one she used to use in middle school to get me to bake cookies with her, or to let her braid my hair. I’d gotten much better at saying no to her these days, and considered refusing, but. She really did look like she wanted me to stay.
Well, maybe there was hope for my weak romantic heart yet.
“I have one condition,” I said. “No country music.”
Addie grinned. “Fine, you big buzzkill.”
So I got in the passenger seat of her silver Mini, car grease and fuzzy pajama pants and all. There was a moment of silence before Addie turned on the radio, and maybe I was imagining things but I’m pretty sure that somewhere very high up, a vicarious old lady was godly laughing.
|
The first time it happened, it was a shock. I recognized the yellow VW Beetle wrecked in the middle of the road. Her parents had given it to her for her sixteenth birthday... when we were still together. I called 911, I met her at the hospital. I told her that her fiance had died in the crash, but I couldn't bring myself to tell her how I'd come across the accident. She just wouldn't believe it.
Our relationship began anew that day, but this time just as friends. The one girl I'd ever truly loved, just a friend. It was bittersweet, the joy of just having her back in my life eclipsed by the knowledge that she would never feel the same way as I did.
I finally had to tell her the secret about a year later. She had seen me appear out of thin air, and at that point there was really no more denying it. "What the hell just happened?" Steph asked, once the police had taken the robber from her house in handcuffs. "You just... **appeared** behind him!"
"Well..." I hesitated, trying to find the words that didn't make me look like a lunatic. "It happened in high school, when we were still dating."
"**What** happened? You gained the ability to teleport?"
"Kinda, yeah. This will sound dumb but... You were the hot goth chick, and I was a boring normal teenager who played video games, and so I tried to get into goth stuff to impress you."
"...Like magic? You thought I was some kind of Wiccan because I went through a black lipstick phase?"
"Yeah like magic, and rituals and, and paganism. That kind of thing. I read stuff so I could impress you. You were so... out of my league. I just thought eventually you'd figure out how lame I was and dump me. Which you did, by the way. Anyway, I ended up finding some translated version of a book of rituals from this ancient cult of Aphrodite. I practiced the ritual a few times, and once I'd gathered the courage, I wanted to do it in front of you. I thought it was all fake, so I didn't expect it to actually work."
"So this is magic. Actual **Magic**. Look I really appreciate the help, but I don't need you appearing whenever I'm in trouble. I'm a grown woman and I can take care of myself. So, turn it off, ok?"
"I..." I hung my head in embarrassment, "I can't stop it. It lasts..."
"Forever. Great." She sounded annoyed, almost angry.
I had to tell her. Either she knew the truth and possibly reciprocated, or she assumed she'd been right and hated me forever. I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. "No... It lasts until I stop loving you." I watched her expression change from annoyed to shocked, to confused... To sad. She pitied me.
"Tom, we were kids, we weren't 'in love'. We weren't 'soul mates'. We were just a couple of kids in a small town. Just because we grew up together doesn't mean we were meant for each other."
"I know, but I just... I've never been happy with anyone else."
"I'm sorry, Tom, but I have."
"I know. You talk about your new boyfriends all the time." The words came out more bitter than I'd intended.
"I think you should go home."
She wouldn't return my calls after that. We saw each other a few other times. Once she'd slipped on ice and gotten a concussion. Another car crash. A flat tire in the middle of nowhere. She wouldn't speak to me, though. Nothing beyond a polite, "Thanks."
A year had passed since she last needed me. I had almost been able to stop thinking about her when she started texting me. I ignored them, every one of them. I couldn't handle it again, the possibility that she finally felt the same way that I did, followed by the crushing realization that she never would.
Today was the day. The day that all of my sadness, my loneliness, would end. I opened the door to Joy's building. I walked past the elevator and climbed the stairs. I had time. I couldn't help but think of Steph, even as I approached the door to my date's apartment. At number 513, I raised my hand to knock on the door, and thought of her again. I stopped. I couldn't do this. Not to myself, and not to Joy. She didn't deserve it. I went back to the stairs and stopped. I looked down, towards the exit, but I turned upwards.
I took my phone out of my pocket. I texted to Joy, "Sorry to cancel on such short notice, but I'm not feeling well." As I reached the top of the stairs, I opened the door to the roof. A warm breeze touched my face as I held up my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. I had only a sneaking suspicion of why I was up there.
I paced around the roof. What would my life be like from this point onward? Would I ever be happy? Could I? No, certainly not. Joy, who I'd met through a mutual friend, was everything I could ever want but for the fact that she wasn't Steph. Steph, though, didn't want me. I'd never be happy. Every time I thought I could be happy had turned out to be a lie.
I knew, now, why I was here. It was the only answer. The only way to relieve the emptiness. The sadness. Erase it. A part of my mind screamed for me to stop, but I knew that was emotion and not logic speaking. I had already realized the truth. The truth carried me with slow steps onto the ledge. The truth spread my arms, and closed my eyes.
Even in my last moments, I heard her voice in my head, "Tom? Tom what the fuck! What did you do?"
I opened my eyes and saw her there, falling with me. The fear on her face and the realization of what she'd done, and what I'd done would haunt me for the rest of my life.
| 2017-03-22T16:13:24 | 2017-03-22T16:04:26 | 51 | 37 |
[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 Omar,
I know, I know. The last thing you wanted was your obituary to read "...an Oakland Man." I was telling some of my other friends that despite the fact we'd only been close friends for something like a couple years, you were someone that I would've wanted in the groom's party when I eventually got married. I don't share feelings easily, but with you it always felt okay.
I've moved to LA. I left Rdio that October. You'll be happy to know that Darrell and Raquel have bought my old place. They actually stay in the room you were in; they've converted the master bedroom to a gym.
Oh right! I finally went to Coachella. Your father had expressed to me, with tears in his eyes, how happy you seemed from all of the pictures you'd taken on your phone. I couldn't stop thinking of you and how you were always so easy with everyone. Totally understand what you loved about the music festival scene, now that I've gotten a few under my belt.
I try to live my life the way you did: always enjoying the moment, truly! These days I also chastise people for texting while driving. I have to confess to checking my phone at lights, sometimes. The traffic is just so bad here.
Oh! Also, I don't know if you know this happened, but your brother, or was it a cousin? He got super proselytizy at your memorial service, and left a small stack of pocket bibles for everyone. Your father kind of yelled at him to stop after a little while... it was kind of awkward.
I had to unfriend you on Facebook, sorry about that. Someone in your family had taken to using your phone, and hadn't deleted messenger, so it would show you as online, and after a while I just couldn't take it any more.
I think that's it... Every year, around that time in April, memories come up; you were such a brilliant light in our lives, and we miss you, and will continue to miss you.
Your friend always,
kevin
|
Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO
| 2017-11-05T22:20:06 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 78 | 17 |
[WP] You die at age 15. When you reach the afterlife, a certificate with your cause of death stated is presented to you. You expect cancer, as that is what you were hospitalized for. Instead, you see the words "old age".
|
Max loved her family more than anything, but she was never the best at talking with them. A few weeks after her 15th birthday she started feeling very sick. She didn’t want her family to worry, so she hid it. Even when she visited the doctor. But all the signs were there: she ate less, felt lethargic, and started gaining weight as the cancer spread through her body.
She was taking a nap in her sister’s room when it happened. Every breath became pain. It felt like a forty-ton weight was crushing her lungs. Her sister heard her wheezing breaths and picked her up. They ran into the living room and told the rest of the family what was happening. Heavy rain drops hammered the car as her family raced her to the emergency room. And even though all the windows were up her family’s faces were dripping wet.
They got to the hospital and sat her down on a surprisingly comfortable bed. Everyone was telling her that it would be ok and that they loved her. She loved them too but couldn’t say the words. The doctor came in with a syringe, saying that this is what would make her feel better. She cuddled against her dad as the doctor injected her. She felt so good. She was at peace.
Suddenly the room was different. She was outside. It was bright and colorful. The road she was standing on shined like a rainbow, the bridge ahead of her glimmered in the warm sunlight. A bearded man was sitting on the floor a few meters away from her. “Hello Maxine. It’ll be a little while before your family can pick you up, so I’ll be taking care of you until then. You can cross the bridge whenever you’re ready.” Max stared at him for a while. The man cut through the silence. “I almost forgot! This paperwork has some info about your life and death. It’s more for your family, but new residents always ask to see it anyway.” The man slid the paper to Max and she sniffed it. It was warm, freshly printed, and smelled heavenly. She would cross the bridge later: right now what she needed was a nap.
The man watched as Max curled up onto the paper and started grooming her fur. “We have real beds, you know” he said in vain. Max was already dozing off into a cat nap.
|
I stare down in bewilderment at those two words. I'd known I had been at peace with my death, I'd known what the cause would be and I knew how much time I had left. But this just doesn't make any sense. So I asked the being that handed me the certificate. "It says old age, that's not a mistake is it?" "Nope there's never any mistakes here. 15 years is pretty old for someone of your species." Hold on. Did he say species? "Species? I'm, well I was human. 15 isn't even close to old age." "You didn't know then? You weren't a human." "I wasn't.... What? This has got to be a joke." "No jokes here either ma'am." "If I wasn't human then what was I?" "C'mon we got your recordings over here, take a look yourself." There it was, my entire life laid out in front of me. I could see everything, every moment of my life on Earth and at the very beginning... That's not Earth. The grass looks purple and the trees are upside down. There's a small, silver skinned, four eyed being, two larger one's cradling it in their arms. Is that supposed to be me? No. That can't be possible. "What happened after that?" "Keep on looking." My apparent family left their planet but the ship they were traveling in broke down. They sent me off in a pod after no one responded to their distress signal. I'd landed on Earth and there's my dad, or who I thought was my dad. I watched as baby me altered her appearance to look more like him. "Now you know what really happened." "I... don't believe this. I went my whole life not knowing I wasn't human. But wait how did I get cancer?" "When you shapeshifted to look more like the man you knew as your father you copied his cell structure." "He has cancer too?!" "He'll beat it, don't you worry about that. Now there's a couple people I think you'd be interested in meeting." The being brought me into another room with two four eyed silver skinned being seated on the couch "Hello daughter."
| 2020-03-22T00:39:17 | 2020-03-21T23:21:42 | 366 | 130 |
[WP] Immortals and time travelers pass along messages for each other. It's customary and expected. One day, a stranger sits across from you at a restaurant/coffee shop/bar and asks you to give a message to someone you'll meet in New York in 2070. As far as you know, you're just an ordinary person.
|
The old lady sat across from me in the coffee shop and smiled. Her teeth were uncanny peaks of white, her eyes a brown so intense they were near black. They were very beady. They reminded me of a shark’s as they tracked me for a reaction.
“I don’t know anyone named Charles,” I mumbled.
She nodded, still looking at me. “But you will,” she said emphatically. Her hands were wrapped around a coffee cup with lipstick stains on the lid. I watched her fingers drum the side. Her nails were perfectly manicured in alternating red and greens for the holidays. It looked like a style I’d expect in a 20-something, not a lady that could easily be in her eighties.
“There was a mistake,” she continued. “You should have been told about Charles when you turned eighteen, not twenty-eight. It’s customary for all of us traveled to know our soulmates. When you meet him, you’ll ascend.”
I felt something I hadn’t felt for years rise in the back of my throat: hope. I felt it when she first made eye contact as she entered the coffee shop and I was feeling it again as she spoke.
She knew my age.
It couldn’t just be a lucky guess.
“I’m not a traveled,” I said. I’d said it before, but she’d ignored me—pretended not to hear it.
“Miss Jerian, correct?”
My blood ran cold—there was no way she’d know my name. “Yes, but—”
She pulled out a small moleskin book from the inside of her cranberry peacoat. She pursed her lips as she thumbed through it. The beady eyes darted back and forth before she looked back up. “Charles Lancaster. You’ll meet him in 2070. Well, your 2070; his 1815. It’s complicated. You’ll have twins, which makes sense given the circumstances.”
Twins did run in my family. “But why—”
“Clerical error. It happens more than you’d think, we’re not always so modern.” She tapped her book to make a point. She smiled again, thankfully a close-lipped one.
“Will we stay in his time or mine?” The words tumbled out and I felt that feeling in my throat again, a tickle of hope that was becoming a wave. I’d tried to swallow it, but it refused to stay down: I was special.
She shook her head. “I can’t say. I’m not a fortune teller, I just read your timeline.”
“Is he wealthy?”
She just looked at me, smiling. She took a sip from her coffee after a few moments of silence as I processed it all. “You know,” she said, “It’s right before I first traveled.”
“1815?”
“Yes. It’s a beautiful time. But be prepared for New York to smell.” She laughed and I found myself laughing a little too.
“That explains the book,” I finally said.
“Yes, some of the newer folks use technology. But I always preferred a good ledger. It works when I was born and it works now.”
“Do you have any more details?” I couldn’t help but pry, even though I knew it was not protocol from all the classes I’d taken in high school. Only a handful of people became chosen, but we were all educated on the concept. The first traveler appeared in 2020, but they had been around for centuries prior. They lived in between epochs and aged slowly, unable to die from natural causes. They kept their identities hidden and only told those on their eighteenth birthday when they would be old enough to recognize the need to secrecy.
“In 2070, all will become clear,” she said. Another flash of her bright teeth as she put her ledger back into her front pocket.
It was only a year away. Next Christmas, I would meet Charles. He’d take me away from the nihilism, the corporate culture. I wouldn’t have to deal with any more one-night stands. I could move out of my dingy studio apartment.
I could abandon my student loan debt.
“I need to go now,” she said. “We’ll talk again, after you meet him.”
I stood as she stood, still dizzy with excitement and numb with possibility. “Thank you,” I said, grabbing her hand and holding it in mine.
“It’s no problem, Miss Jerian.”
“You can call me Sarah,” I replied. “After all, you just changed my life. No need for formalities.”
The beady eyes suddenly looked away, then she pulled away her hand sharply. “Sarah? Sarah Jerian?”
“Yes?”
She paused. Her eyes refused to meet mine.
I waited for her to say anything.
Finally, after what felt like an hour but could have only been a minute, she cleared her throat.
“I need to speak to your twin sister—Emily. Do you know where she is?”
\--
&#x200B;
***(Meh, not happy with this, but 20 minute writing sprints are fun at least!)***
|
For as long as I could remember, I had been visited by the dreams. Every night I would lay down, drift off to sleep, and fly through the air on a jetpack, waving hello to a variety of humans aliens and uplifted animals.
Tonight's dream was a fun one. The Anthrokin were my favorites of the dream-people; there's just something pure and fun about chatting with a talking deer as you soar above the Rio Grande together.
The conversation were strange, in the way dreams are. "Don't forget to meet Becky at that coffee shop on Christmas Eve. I need the final part of the formula."
I woke up, rubbing sleep from my eyes. Weird dream, as many of them were. I know everyone thinks their dreams feel real, but mine always felt... *extra* real, if that makes sense. I could still smell the scent of rushing river water mixed with jetpack accelerant.
Christmas Eve, nothing to do today. Work gave us the day off, family get-together wasn't until tomorrow. I thought back to my dream, recalling the bit about a coffee shop. Heh, well why not? Maybe this "Becky" person was to be my future wife, and this was Fate spurring me on.
The local corner place was meandering, a few people idling at the tables with books or laptops, he barista looking slightly bored. She seemed happy to have something to do as I entered and ordered the seasonal gingerbread blend.
I sat at an empty table with my coffee and my tablet, skimming a few finance blogs to see what the market was doing. A few pop-up notifications from my news feds blinked onto the top of the screen periodically. "Plague afflicting thousands in Syria". "Istanbul under quarantine." Foreign affairs articles, I guess. Thank goodness for an ocean between us.
A plump woman with a stern face and severely-cut brown hair sat across the table from me. She didn't ask or introduce herself. Just plopped her sizeable behind across from me. I looked at her over my tablet. "...Uh... okay? Can I help you?"
She pushed up her glasses. "I don't have time for formalities. My name is Rebecca Covington. and this is for you."
She slipped a scrap of paper across the table to me. I stared at it with some confusion. "Read it. Memorize it."
I took the paper, half expecting it to explode in a flurry of anthrax powder or something. Written on it were some math... stuff. Algebra, I think? "What is this, I don't do math lady."
"Just read over it a few times. Remember it. And tell Horn Boy he owes me twenty zhollars."
I glanced at the equations again shoved the paper in my pocket and stood to leave. "What is this, your kink, confusing random people who are just trying to go about their day?" She said nothing, and I stormed out of the coffee shop irritated. World's full of wackos, man.
Spent the holiday doing not-much of anything. Baked some cookies, wrapped my parent's gifts, usual thing. At night I went to bed, and had one of my surreal dreams again. I was on a beach in Rio, wearing some gaudy swim trunks and a belt with an electronic device on it. A shimmering force field bubble emanated from the device, surrounding me. That dream-logic where every weird and unusual thing makes perfect sense told me this force field was for scuba diving.
My friend from the other night, the uplifted deer, stood beside me wearing a similar force field. "Are you ready to dive, my friend?"
I cheered a "Hell Yeah", and we ran into the water. Swam down to the bottom of the ocean to have tea with a nice family of uplifted anglerfish.
The father of the anglerfish family nodded hello to me. "Good to see you again. I am so sorry to begin this visit with business right out of the gate, but I must ask, did you meet with Becky?"
"Yeah." I said, dream logic making it perfectly sensible that the lady from the coffee shop would know a talking anglerfish. "She gave me a few equations to pass along, and she said this guy owes her twenty zhollars." I said jabbing my thumb at the uplifted deer.
Everyone chuckled, and I wrote the equations on a napkin for him. Papa Anglerfish smiled a toothy smile. "My sincere thanks, friends. The cure for this plague is a feat of modern science. We've had to tap the best minds of the entirety of history to find a cure for it. Thanks to this," he said waving the napkin filled with equations, "The Middle East can finally be cleared of it's quarantine and rejoin the rest of the world again."
I nodded, everything making perfect sense. Dream logic was fun, sometimes.
| 2018-12-24T10:45:45 | 2018-12-24T10:37:48 | 79 | 14 |
[WP] Write a lighthearted story for children, which changes it's meaning when read by an adult.
|
The brave young girl walked through the forest, gripping her lantern tight as she diligently looked around; she knew very well what she had to do and even though the forest was dark, she was not afraid. Suddenly, she came upon a small clearing, filled with the moon's light, and saw many children playing!
"Hello!" the brave girl said to the children.
"Hello there," the children replied. They were the most peculiar children with skin as green as spring grass and flowers instead of hair.
"What brings you here?" one of the green children asked.
"A big, bad wolf stomped around our house," the brave girl explained. "It huffed and puffed and roared all night until my parents decided to go and find it and chase it away! I'm going to help them!" the girl proudly stated.
"Aren't you afraid?" one of the green children asked.
"I'm not afraid of *any* dog," the girl puffed her chest. "But... I think I've gotten lost. Perhaps you could help me?"
"Of course," a green child chirped. "But only after you beat us in a game!"
The girl's eyes lit up. "A game?"
"Hokey-stones!" one of the children said. "Let us show you!"
And so the green children taught the brave girl a game - the most fun game she has ever played. They played and played until the sun rose and the girl realized her quest was not yet done.
"Now, I really must go find my parents," she huffed.
"But the forest is big and tall! You won't find them on your own!" one of the children cried out. "Perhaps it's better if you stay here and wait until they find you?"
The girl narrowed her eyes as she thought about it - after all, her mother always told her that if she ever got lost, she should stay where she is and wait for her to find her.
"Okay!" the girl said.
"In the meantime, would you like to play more hokey-stones?" one of the children cheered.
"Of course!"
And so the children played once more, occasionally putting the prettiest flowers in the girl's hair and playfully smudging her hands with the green grass. They laughed and played and the girl was happy, knowing she is with her good friends and that her parents will join them soon!
&#x200B;
So very, *very* soon.
&#x200B;
And everyone was happy.
|
#Davie Learns How To Say 'Sorry'
*printed by VanMan Publishing*
*written and edited by M. Gaetz & J. Sandusky*
*illustrations by Asanagi*
---
Davie is a boy who likes to go on adventures.
Sometimes Davie has an adventure that leaves a mess.
---
People who have to clean up the mess, get angry if he doesn't apologize.
But Davie doesn't know how.
So Davie asks grownups how to apologize.
---
He asks his mother how to apologize.
His mother says, "When we hurt someone's feelings, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we try not to hurt them any more, and listen better."
Davie helps his mother with her makeup.
---
Davie asks his father how to apologize.
His father says, "When we get so angry we do a hurtful thing, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we should never hit or hurt people."
Davie helps his father fix a broken door.
---
Davie asks his neighbor how to apologize.
Mr. Gein says, "When we do things we aren't supposed to, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we put back things we have taken."
Davie helps Mr. Gein bury a funny treasure chest.
---
Davie asks his grandmother how to apologize.
Nana says, "When we play with toys that aren't ours, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we give something in return to make up for it."
Davie helps his Nana make cupcakes for her friend's wife.
---
Davie asks Mr. VanMan how to apologize.
Mr. VanMan says, "When someone is afraid to try a new thing, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we help them learn something about themselves."
Davie helps Mr. VanMan learn a secret about himself.
---
Surprise! Davie's sister has come to visit!
Davie asks his sister how to apologize.
His sister says, "When we run away from a mess and others have to stay behind, we say 'I'm sorry.' And we give them what we can to help them deal with the mess."
Davie helps his sister learn how to shoot bottles.
---
Now Davie knows how to apologize for all sorts of messy adventures.
And now you do, too!
| 2022-12-18T12:46:43 | 2022-12-18T12:16:07 | 524 | 274 |
[WP] A dragon shows up at the adventurers' guild after hearing that humans will just GIVE away gold for something called a "quest."
|
“Preposterous, purely preposterous,” I thought, wings beating through the air, “These humans give away the most illustrious, shiny part of a dragon’s hoard to each other for running errands?”
I swooped down and gingerly (well, mostly anyways) landed in front of the town’s gate, the buildings seemed much too fragile inside the wall. I tried to speak relatively softly in the common tongue
“Hello, I was hoping to inquire about the mechanics of these quests? The ones that are worth gold to complete?”
The guards on the wall stood silent and motionless for a great deal longer than I had expected before they finally passed along a signal and a relatively well dressed man nervously stumbled from the gates.
“Ah, hello, tiny human” I said, trying to sound as non-threatening as an adult dragon can be, “Can you tell me about these quests I’ve heard so much about?”
“W-w-w-well, you see, people place requests in the guild hall along with a reward and adventurers accept them, complete them, and then collect the reward,” the man stammered.
“That sounds marvelously simple, I don’t suppose you have any I could accept at the moment?”
“There is one quest available at the moment to retrieve a family heirloom from the lair of an-an-an adult dragon, that looks— a lot like you, in the mountains, a sword to be precise,” he seemed fearful at a rebuke.
“Does it happen to be a longsword with emeralds in the hilt that glows faintly in the dark?” I inquired.
“It-it-it is indeed, according to the description. The family is offering 200 gold pieces to have someone retrieve it,” the human seemed to be growing increasingly nervous as the conversation went on.
“200 gold! You humans are willing to trade 200 wonderfully shiny tidbits for only one, less shiny trinket!? I do believe I have the sword in question, I will retrieve it presently and return for my reward,” I practically roared. With that I launched into the air and beelined for my lair, quickly crawling towards the pile where the unfortunate previous owner of the sword had left it after his head mysteriously vanished in a toothy flash from yours truly. I rocketed from the opening of my den and dived down the slope of the mountain, useless sword in tow.
“Unbelievable! I give them a single piece of my hoard (and an ugly one at that) and they simply give me more treasure! Humans and their simple minds.”
I land and gently deposit the sword at the feet of the startled guildsman,
“R-r-r-right, here you go, your reward for the completion of the quest, have a good day, I must be off now,” the man quickly spouted before hurrying off inside the gate.
I gingerly lift up the sack of gold and return to my cave,
“Oh my, so many new shinies! I must really do more of these simple ‘quests’ for the humans if this will be my reward!”
**First time doing one of these writing prompts, advice appreciated. And sorry if I accidentally copied someone else’s idea, I wasn’t able to read all of the comments before I made my own story.
Cheers!
|
The dragon's head slinked in through the door to the adventures guild. He turned his head filling up most of the building. Everyone backed up cautiously but, no one attacked or even acted aggressive.
Then Gore-fang spoke "I would like a quest. How would I obtain one?"
One of the ladies behind the counter responds "I give out quests but why do you want one?"
"I heard you get gold upon completion of them."
Everyone (whose eyes had been full of fear and shock up till this point) nodded. They all understood and so did the lady behind the counter. Sara had an idea and flipped through her pile of papers. She found the most difficult quest. "This is a dangerous quest with a reward of 1,000 gold pieces are you willing," Gore-fang nodded calmly. "You need to kill out Fax Rog lord of the pit. He is amassing an army of darkness that is threatening the kingdom."
"I have heard of Fax Rog and his pit," he stated contomplatily. Then with determination in his hate filled eyes he said "I shall incinerate everything in the pit; Fax Rog and all. With that he snaked his head out of the door and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
The massive drake flew over the city and to the north. By ground the journey to the pit could take up to a month but, for a dragon it would only take a little bit. He was there by morning, standing on the edge and staring into the large hole in the ground. He thought about what was down there. Then he realized that he couldn't even fit in it.
Fortunately a group of orcs came climbing up the sides. One of then was wearing thick metal armor and spoke the common tounge. "What are you doing here?" he asked in a course and high pitched voice.
Gore-fang saw his opportunity and took it "I am here to join forces with Fax Rog becuase I support his cause. Unfortunately I am too big to go down there see him myself. May you bring him up to talk to me?"
The orc not stupid enough to say no to a dragon complied and went back into the pit. About an hour later Fax Rog appeared. He was a battle hardened dwarf with an angry look on his face.
The dragon looked down on him and laughed "You're the lord of the pit?" he asked looking at this puny creature. "Then you may return to it." Gore-fang kicked the dwarf and his orcs back into the pit and proceeded to breath fire into the hole. The flames billowed out as the screams of every fowl being echoed. He was content with his work and flew back to the city.
As he once again entered the guild hall everyone looked at him then went back to buisnness as usual. He pointed his head toward Sara's desk and waited for the adventurer in front of him to finish. As the he moved out of the way she saw Gore-fang and suprise entered her face.
"Are you done already?"
"Yes, the lord and his pit are no more. Now for my pay." She heaved a large bag of gold at him. Hooking it on one of his teeth he said "I'll be back soon." Then left for his mountain.
| 2020-06-08T17:02:33 | 2020-06-08T16:53:01 | 16 | 12 |
[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.
|
The day the url released, millions of people flocked to the churches, hoping to cleanse themselves of their sins.
And the rest of us.
Well we know there’s no escaping what’s coming to us.
Oh you killed someone? Well the fbi knows about it now. They monitor the damn site like crazy. And ever since the damn developers of the website added a location, shits gotten hard.
Which leads me to today, perched in the rafters of a church, watching the ceremony take place. Bored, i take out my phone and check the website, searching my name.
Sins
Murder
Murder
Murder
Theft
Murder
Murder
Time to be served in hell
-500 years
“What?” I refresh the page, again it reads -500 years
The ceremony begins to wrap up, and i slip the phone into my pocket, and take aim.
A politician, responsible for the deaths of hundreds.
I have 5 minutes before the cops turn up.
The gun fires, and I leap from my spot and jump out the window onto the roof.
4 minutes.
I slide down the drainpipe and sprint towards the entrance to the sewers
3 minutes.
The sounds of sirens begin
I slip into the sewers and sprint through the tunnels.
2 minutes.
I turn a left and continue to sprint
1 minute.
I stop, leaning against the wall, and pulling out my phone again. The contractor sends a message
“Well done.”
I hastily type a reply “when do i get paid”
“The time will come.”
I sigh “great” i mutter, opening up the website again
Time to be served in hell -700 years.
“Shit.” I realise exactly who my contractor is.
Who he has been all these years.
|
Everyone thought it was a joke looking upon the site, a clever trick played by some bored devs ... right? Then they saw the timestamps and got worried, upon governments themselves (After a few higher up individuals having some very embarrassing things leaked about them) raided the supposed location and found nothing continuing to do this for months people were terrified. Some also took it to the extreme, seeing how many rules they could break out of spite, some becoming near saintly. Then the website started to have *Issues*
"What do you mean the sites gone down!" Bellowed across the marble and gold floors as it looked upon the priest
"We don't know, it just stopped working all of the sudden." He said bowing before the Lord.
"Well fix it, and get me a line to lucifer he keeps the servers clean so tell me what the *Hell* happened down there." He said as he sent off the priest adorning more formal attire
When he came upon the phone the techs were somehow more terrified. How they could be considering his equivalent to a second child being broken(Made to *try* and help his first.) He rushed over wondering what happened, only to come about to a dial-tone, seeing on the viewfinder only a hanging microphone, and a dismembered horn to meet him. As they all stood there a ragged, broken group of humans shambled into view. Shielding their eyes upon seeing him, as all those condemned would, then one of them beginning to chuckle as she moved towards the screen picking up the mic.
"See you soon." She smiled, taking the mic and crushing it before taking to the computers leaving them sightless as the screen cut out
=============================================================================
Hey y'all, first prompt fill on here so if you would like some more of this series or more, be sure to go over and check out r/CaoCreatives
| 2020-02-29T23:30:10 | 2020-02-29T22:29:01 | 110 | 15 |
[WP] someone is breaking into your house. You grab an ancient axe you've just bought at an auction and brain the burglar. All of the sudden all life-skills and knowledge of all that have been felled by that axe come flooding into your consciousness.
|
His blood splatters against a garbage-picked Van Gogh print, the second casualty of the evening. A chorus of laughter erupts. I try to wrench the axe out of my victim’s skull.
On the TV behind me, the star of a sitcom that failed four decades ago stands with his hands on his hips, smirking, waiting for the canned howls of the dead to shut up. He’s got another, even better punchline to deliver next.
I never hear it. As the axe comes loose and brains spills out onto my hardwood floors, I’m gripped by a foreign consciousness. It radiates from the birch wood in my hand, up through my finger tips and into my gut. It swirls there for a moment, a tumbling mass of voices, memories, regrets and unfinished business.
It branches out in every direction, flooding my body with the lives of every person to ever die by this axe: dozens, I later learn. Some I eventually catalogue and research. A few become friends. Others I close up deep inside me, never to look at again.
The first to reach my brain unpacks deliberately, like it’s a routine: I learn how to speak German. I learn what it feels like to be German. I relive scenes of a beautiful life cut short. I fall against my new fridge. My back hits the sensor and crushed ice starts pouring out. I drop to the floor, babbling in old German phrases that, only seconds ago, meant nothing to me.
The dead people on TV laugh some more, and then they cheer. Someone kissed someone they should’ve kissed a long time ago.
Someone got an axe to the back of the neck for doing that two hundred years before anyone I know was born. I was there.
Hours pass in a procession of old souls meeting mine. I feel like I'm greeting strangers at a funeral for someone I loved but didn't truly know. I wait by the casket and shake hands with an endless line of their old friends, coworkers, cousins, and lovers. I remember their faces and through these handshakes I learn their deepest secrets.
The intruder is there. Unlike the others this is his first time, and he’s scared. He has nothing to say and nothing to impart to me. In time, he will. To him we skip the handshake. He is still clinging to life. Not ready. So it’s on to the next one. I lose all trace of time and space.
Sun streams through the kitchen windows. The line ends. I smell brains and blood across the room, warming in the golden rays like hot tar. Things I used to think were essential to consciousness. I now recognize them as cheap props.
*Is that everyone?* I ask the axe. No. I feel it. One left. One that did not move across my body like the others. This one is different. This consciousness is older than the others – so much older.
I beckon it forward. I feel like an expert now, a wise old hand. *Come to me*, I say, *let me know you. Let me carry you as I must now carry the others.*
It stirs. It wants to come closer but it doesn’t know how. Instead of movement, it knows only growth. It transmits this to me, with a sadness and pain that have brewed for centuries.
*So grow*, I say. A recognition. A contemplation. A response.
*As you wish.*
From its place in my abdomen, the consciousness sends out tendrils, downward at first, then they curve up, finding the contours of my nervous system and following in turn. Their pattern feels familiar, as they branch and rebranch, wrapping around my insides and fanning ever outward. I can see them in a picture book.
What are they? I know the answer. What is the word?
*Rot.*
No. Not German. I need English. My tongue, my tongue.
*Root*. Yes. They are roots. And as they reach my brain, it becomes clear who this last consciousness is. I know why it stayed behind and dug in, as its kind has done for millions of years. It answers me with a radiance of life through all its roots.
*I am the first felled. I am the instrument.*
I start to cry. The pain I feel is like my own; more than my own, if that’s possible. The guilt of a murder weapon imprisoned in an endless timeline. The lives of every victim meet here, under its shade. They grow like fruit. It must watch and know what its own body has wrought.
*Birch*, I say, as if a label can be a name. It accepts this crude cross-species translation.
*I am Birch. Who are you?*
*Human*, I say. Seems only fair.
*Human*, the Birch says, *return this instrument. Reunite this branch with the others. End this.*
The Birch senses my fear and apprehension. I don't even need to say it. Soon, we will never have to say anything to each other again. This will be the purest communication either of us have ever known.
*I will show you the way.*
I fill my hiking backpack with everything I could need on the journey. What can’t fit goes into the car. Once I hit the East Coast, I’ll need to find a way across the Atlantic. The body here, disposal of the intruder, will slow me down.
I explain this but the Birch doesn’t understand this human custom for clearing felled brethren. To the Birch, this bloody corpse is a log – it must remain in its place and give rise to an ecosystem of its own. To disturb it is foolish.
I dial 911. As one part of me speaks, the other parts, dozens, commune and pool knowledge, joining together in a quest that will give closure to every tangled life cut short by this axe. Even the intruder, still a broken soul torn between worlds, inches closer to hear the discussion. One day, him and I will love one other like brothers.
Three days later, with an ancient axe on my passenger seat, I leave my home forever, in search of a Birch tree I have never seen, but will always hear.
|
I stand above a dead man for the second time in my life, coming to terms with what I did.
The axe and I taste blood. A thousand years have not wrought such change that the flavors are any different. The burglar’s blood that courses through my consciousness could as easily be my own, tasted upon a bit lip, as it could be the ancient Dane the blade first killed. In an instant I know both their names as deeply as I know my own.
The burglar, his chest torn like some grotesque piñata, is named Harold. The Dane, Sigurd. Myself, Thomas. Before I’d killed a man I would’ve named myself Tom. Now Tom seems too small.
My wife’s jewelry box tumbles from the man’s grip. I can hear her in the next room, her scream rising as Harold’s falls, as Sigurd’s falls, as a thousand more rise within me, naming themselves in turn.
*Aethelwine.*
*Alfred.*
*Gunther.*
*Claudio.*
*Claudia.*
*Caroline.*
*Henry.*
I try to drop the axe. I cannot.
“Tom, what did you do?” Annette whispers. She has crept out of our bedroom, her nightgown a pristine white. For a moment she wears another woman's face, her dark skin meeting a ruddy neck and rough, peasant features. Claudia, the axe I cannot drop supplies.
“Tom, what did you?”
I stand above what I did, and I change.
There are a thousand ways a life might change. I look back at the gentle swell of my wife’s belly, reach out a bloodied hand towards her, and she steps back. She has never stepped back from me before in any way other than coyly. Now I see fear, and though her face becomes Annette’s I can scarcely recognize her through the impossibly wide eyes and gaping mouth. Gaping like the dead burglar’s chest. Like Harold’s.
“Baby, I…” She steps back again, until her back is up against the wall. I try to drop the axe again, cannot. “Annette, I…”
“Tom, what did you do!” she shouts.
And more names flash before me, faces now too.
*Gabriel.*
*Pierre.*
*Renaud.*
*Alfonse.*
*Leo.*
*Ella.*
*Lizzie.*
I stand above what I did, and I change again.
“Tom, baby, what did you do?”
“I killed him,” I whisper.
My body feels lighter. For a moment I’m Harold the burglar, lithe, quick, fearless. I can pick any lock, slip through any space, fleece any fence.
I fall to my knees next to what I did, next to another body, and for a moment I change again. Harold’s eyes are still open, and as mine close I see myself. The vision blurs but its focus is clear. My body is rimmed by a halo of fierce light like a black sun. For a moment all of me disappears and I look like an open door, a pathway a man should never walk. And then my eyes open, and I no longer see through Harold’s eyes. I see through my own, and I’ve never been more horrified by that.
“Tom, how could you?” my wife asks.
“Annette, I…”
“It was just jewelry! He didn’t even have a gun!”
Harold had a knife. I hadn’t known that before I killed him, only felt it after in that strange closed eye space between knowing and unknowing where I saw myself. I’d felt it at his belt, could prove it to her if I wished. I did not wish. A knife didn’t warrant this.
And then the axe speaks.
*“Yes it does.”* It speaks consonants like a forge hammer, vowels like the sibilant hiss of a hard swing. *“A knife and a pregnant wife. What man wouldn’t have done what you did?”*
“Tom, baby. Look at me,” Annette says. My wife, I remind myself.
“Don’t look. She isn’t ready to see you like this.” The axe said.
And I do not look. I stand, the axe still in my shaking hand, and Annette wraps her thin arms around me like a shield, and whispers “We’ll get through this,” over and over and over.
And the axe speaks again.
*“There are more names,”* it says.
“No more,” I whisper.
*“More faces,”* it says.
“No more.”
*“More lives.”*
“No more!”
“Tom!” Annette shouts. “Tom, baby, snap out of it! This isn’t like it was then!”
“Like when?” I ask, as an endless parade of names and faces swim before me, an end credit scene on a thousand lives.
“Like when your dad died! It’s not like then baby, not like when you found him! This isn’t a murder!”
More names, more faces, more lives ended. I stand above what I did, above a dead body for the second time in my life, and Annette whispers, “We’ll get through this,” again, her own little mantra. I think it’s more for her than for me.
*“So many names.”* The axe whispers, somehow melding its sibilance to Annette’s soft tones. *“Shall I continue? Shall I show you their lives, their endings?”*
“No,” I say.
*“Shall I?”*
“No.”
*“Shall I?”*
“NO!”
“Thomas Eugene Wilkins Jr.!” Annette shouts.
*“Thomas Eugene Wilkins Sr.!” The axe echoes.*
“It’s not like it was then!” Annette says. “Thomas, look at me!”
As my father’s face swims in front of my eyes, filling me with the life of a man I’d barely known but always hungered for, I look.
\----------
If you enjoyed that, I've got a ton more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out!
| 2021-06-20T09:47:47 | 2021-06-20T08:43:04 | 1,437 | 131 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends.
|
Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
|
They had been playing for nearly 14 billion years now and God had barely advanced his Humans enough to begin exploring their solar system. The other gods had already started transmitting their culture across the cosmos. So much so that the god Marlinius and his race of gorlarmi had completely dominated Roman culture on Earth, just one of many human cultures to unwittingly succumb to their enemy's influence.
God was more than a little upset to see that none of the other races wanted to adopt his Human's predisposition for mutilating their genitals. Tullicthu and its cultistians on the other hand had been attempting to be diplomatic with the lowly Humans. God hadn't been very happy with Tullicthu since that last time he wiped out his bad-ass race of lizard people with a giant space rock.
After this, God did not want anything to do with the other races. He was a bit of a sore loser. He even had the Humans put up nuclear power plants all around the planet, as well as detonating several nuclear bombs, just to keep Nexu and her thetian's away. Everyone knows thetians are allergic to radiation.
And it was just plain common sense to keep as far away as possible from Marlinius since his idea of a good time involved a cup plague and two teaspoons of mass extinction. Yes, indeed, God thought his fool-proof plan of creating a hardy, adaptable, and curious species would have been a no-brainer for this game but things had panned out about as well as the multiple times he had sent down great prophets to try to get the humans to stay on track.
God had been thinking long and hard and decided that he'd been attempting a scientific victory for far too long, and even if he had to go down the victory list, he was going to win this, so he decided to turn all of his, and subsequently humanity's, efforts towards a domination victory.
.
If you disliked this story, you can be sure to avoid more of my literature [here.](https://np.reddit.com/r/KyronWight/)
| 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T07:01:46 | 1,980 | 63 |
[WP] Earth is about to update to version 2.0.18! Write a change log for this new version.
|
- Downgraded Trump from World Boss to Sub-Boss
- Added new World Boss - Ajit Pai. All players of all factions will have to work together to take down this new threat!
- New set of players will be selected, based on sign-up date, for Veteran rewards: Alcohol and Tobacco, depending on server rules for such rewards. Select servers will also have rewards unlocked for certain veteran players: Marijuana. Dev team advises not to abuse these veteran rewards.
- select servers will be adding punishments for abuse of the "Report" system. Although we at the Dev team encourage users to report all violations, misuse of this system for fraudulent reports slows down the process of punishing violators, and make it more difficult to deal with issues in a fair and consistent manner. All users asking to simply punish any and all reports without investigation, the official response of the Dev team is, "No."
- Herobrine removed.
- Debuggers still unable to identify the cause of the glitch that makes Malaysia airline planes to despawn while in transit. We apologize to all users who have had their accounts deactivated due to this in combination with the games "1 life" policy.
- Fixed glitch causing mix-ups and contradictions between "memory.dll" and "history.dll", which has been causing many issues and confusion among users. Any further instances of this Mandela Bug should be reported immediately, but is believed to be resolved.
- Herobrine removed. again.
- Dev team still working out the faults in the auto-aggro feature. For the moment, please do your best to ignore any aggro generated from simple jokes or opinions, as responding to this aggro will only feed into the aggro loop "revengecycle.exe", and may bring unwanted conflict with other players. Also be aware of your own auto-aggro feature when dealing with other players, and do your best to manually turn it off when you catch it going off at inappropriate times. If you are having trouble with your own auto-aggro controls, the powerup "thicker skins for little bitches" is available in the play store at no charge.
- Sub-Boss collective EA has felt the might of players' combined efforts, but has not yet been completely subjugated. Players of all factions are encouraged to continue working together against this difficult foe. With the damage it's been dealt, expect this Sub-Boss to adopt new tactics in this patch, and be prepared to react accordingly!
- Dev team has looked into the reported glitches in the weather system AGAIN by user request, and are happy to report that it is working as intended. Pro-tip to you noobs from the Dev team: combined player action DOES have an effect on how the weather system operates. Anyone who says otherwise has not seen the source code.
- Herobrine removed
|
Donald Trump farted softly in his sleep. Melania sat bolt upright in bed, lifting an eyebrow and scowling sharply. She threw away her covers and slid off the silk bedsheets. She sashayed towards the Presidential Bathroom, iPhone in hand. She clicked the door closed and pressed the lock button.
As your noble omniscient narrator loitered politely outside the bathroom, he heard sounds from inside the bathroom: first a snort of disgust, and then the sound of the toilet seat being put down. There was a third noise (glossed over) followed by a flushing noise, which was interrupted by a shriek.
Melania stared at her iPhone, knees shaking.
>Greetings Earth User,
>Silicon Valley is proud to announce the arrival of Earth version 2.0.18!
>We have fixed numerous bugs of 2.0.16 and 2.0.17, including the Trump presidency, systemic racism, sexual harassment, and Disney’s purchase of the Star Wars franchise.
>We have also added new features, including the highly anticipated continent of Atlantis. The mermaid inhabitants of the sunken continent come complete with their own culture, cuisine, and casinos. Bring the whole family!
“What is this?” Melania said to no one in particular. She tried to exit the message. Impossible. The only option was to tap ‘accept’.
“I have been computer-hacked!” she said, breathlessly. She thought about turning in her phone to the White House Head of Digital Security, but it could take *hours* to get it back. She wanted to check Instagram. It would be swimsuit season soon.
She clicked ‘Accept’. Her whole world immediately plunged underwater. Walls of foamy seawater flooded the room, coming up from the sink drain, the heat vents, and the cracks in the floorboards. She was suspended underwater, floating in abject terror. Her hair splayed out in fine silky strands and her slippers floated into the bedroom. She swam after them, bubbles streaming from her mouth.
On the bed, Trump was a great orange blob—a humanoid goldfish with gills on his face. He slept peacefully, smacking his goldfish lips.
“Hrblblrlblr!” Melania screamed.
But he could not hear her. The owner of the Atlantis Trump Tower & Casino slept soundly, unaware that he had once been President of the United States.
A fart bubble formed under the blankets and crawled its way to the edge, flubbing upward towards the ceiling. Melania flailed her flippers with impotent rage.
And everyone else lived happily ever after.
----
subscribe to /r/trrh for more!
| 2017-12-22T22:23:46 | 2017-12-22T21:53:05 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] You come home after the worst date of your life. Sitting in your living room is Cupid, getting really drunk and wanting you to know you're the hardest person to find a mate for in history and the reason he might get fired.
|
"Fuck" Danny said as he opened his front door.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck! What the hell is wrong with me!" Danny screamed as he slammed his keys on to the door side table.
Another date, gone horribly. Danny was going on a date with a girl named Amanda, and at first it was nice, they had a nice dinner, and after dinner they went to the nearby park. Eventually after a long walk they sat on a bench underneath a cherry tree. The pink pedals were falling, it was such a romantic moment. Danny slowly moved his hand on top of hers and they moved in for a passionate kiss. The kiss was good, almost like sparks were about to fly, until she started to go into cardiac arrest. Turns out she was allergic to peanuts, and eating Pad Thai at the restaurant wasn't the best idea.
"Fucking fuck," Danny said as he quickly turned the corner to see a chubby looking child sitting on his couch, the color of his cheeks were rosy red, and next to him was what appear to be a bottle of vodka.
"FUCKING FUCK IS RIGHT," the child screamed as he cocked his head towards Dannys direction.
"Who are you and what are you doing in my house?"
"MY NAME, *hic* IS CU-MOTHER FUCKING-PID, AND YOUR NAME, IS STU-MOTHER FUCKING-PID."
"Cupid???"
"THAT'S RIGHT, AND YOU ARE A RIGHT PIECE OF SHIT, WHO CAN'T DO LOVE APPARENTLY. EVERY TIME I FUCKING SET YOU UP WITH SOMEONE YOU MANAGE TO ALWAYS FUCK IT UP."
"Alright that's being a little harsh, today's date was an honest mistake,"
"NOT JUST TODAY, WHAT ABOUT YOUR LAST DATE?"
"Okay honestly I didn't know she had PTSD okay?! I thought fireworks would be romantic,"
"AND THE LAST DATE?"
"I honestly didn't know what the dolphin was doing."
"YOU, ARE THE ABSOLUTE WORST. YOU KNOW, YOU'RE GOING TO BE THE FUCKING REASON I'M GOING TO LOSE MY JOB. YOU LIL-"
Suddenly Cupid paused. Dannys phone suddenly vibrated. Danny pulled out his phone and looked at the screen with his jaw open.
"Who is it?" Cupid asked.
"It's... Amanda."
"Well! What did she say?!"
Danny held up his phone and showed the screen to Cupid
Amanda - 2nd date?
EDIT: Formating and spelling
|
God damnit.
"Same sentiment kid."
What the hell.
"Yup, that's what I'm thinking about you right now."
"Could you stop with the mind reading!" I yelled. This was just fantastic. I get home from the date from hell only to find that a man broke into my apartment and had started on my scotch. Normally, I would of shot the intruder, but this guy was something special. This 'introducer' was none other than Cupid himself. He wore a pink button up shirt, three top buttons unbuttoned to show off his chest, what looked to be $500 dollar jeans and designer dress shoes.
I expected Cupid to look more....angeley. Maybe a bit fatter but it seems like a trimmed down over time.
"You know," He started after a sip. "You are the reason why I'm getting fired."
"Fired? What for? You hooking me up with bad dates?" I told him as I took a seat across the table.
"No, because YOU screw up the dates!" He yelled. "I find dream girl after dream girl for you and all you do is fuck it up." He sighed before taking a swig of the scotch. "I just want to keep my job, not live down here with you mortals."
I sigh. The first two dates I was not feeling it. They just seemed forced to me. The third one was a pickpocket and a kleptomaniac. While the fourth...
"Why did you hook me up with crazy Amy?" I asked.
"Well, I was desperate and she fit your criteria. I mean, she was into video games, clever, had the personality to make you laugh-"
"Wanted to stab me with a steak knife." I finished. "She wanted me all to herself, the other girls be dammed."
"Hey I'm just doing my job here." He refilled his cup. "I don't do background checks on these people."
"You hooked me up with a Yandere!" I rose my voice. I stood up and started walking to the bathroom. "Take my scotch and get out Cupid."
"In a few hours I'm going to be your roommate at this rate." He yelled back before his wings extended and he flew out my window.
God damnit......
| 2016-09-05T22:11:09 | 2016-09-05T21:58:45 | 125 | 20 |
[WP] All of the "#1 Dad" mugs in the world change to show the actual ranking of Dads suddenly.
|
"... at number two, it has been confirmed that former President Barack Obama has the #2 Dad Mug and it is no surprise there given how he set himself as an exemplary dad during his stay at the White House."
"Right you are Stacy. Despite juggling between being a dad and the president of this great country, I'm quite surprised he didn't get the number one... Wait... Hold on..."
(An envelope has been given to John by one of the producers)
"This just in folks. We now have the name of the dad who has the #1 dad mug inside this envelope".
"According to our producers, it has been confirmed and verified by the experts on the legitimacy of the mug. However, we have been informed the dad in question has recently passed away and the mug is now in the hand of the family".
"Well then Stacy, shall I open the envelope?".
"Yes John. Let us be the first to reveal the name of the number one dad in the world".
(John opens the envelope and took out the paper)
"And the number one dad's name is...umm..."
"...is...?"
"...Ted. Ted the accountant".
|
I wasn't a dad, I bought one ironically. The day the mugs changed, a tiny black hole opened up where my mug used to sit next to my coffee maker. My Keurig and no one in a fifteen mile radius noticed, as they were instantly ripped into the basic building blocks of life, which were then ripped into their smallest components and shrunk down to the size of the void where my mug sat. Within two minutes the entire East Coast was gone. By 6:05am in what had been Eastern Standard Time (before the East Coast disappeared) the entire Earth was gone. As I watched in horror from the view port of the International Space Station, my colleague who had brought his #1 Dad mug with him at the request of his children never noticed. He was too enthralled with why the number on his mug has jumped from 1 to 7,986,922 then gradually back to 1 to notice his impending doom.
| 2022-05-16T13:47:51 | 2017-06-11T10:07:25 | 70 | 23 |
[WP] An NPC goes mad from the absurd and insane mods the player installs that no one else seems to notice.
|
Outside the hut of Groblob the Unshakeable, in the town of Riversend, in the country of Laravel, on the continent of the evergreen goddess, sat Groblob
And Groblob was losing his mind.
Grob, as he preferred to be called by his ~~friends~~ enemies, was sat on his favourite thinking stump contemplating the Ferrari 458 spider parked at a severe ninety degree angle in the middle of the village. This box of metal was of course completely alien to him, he only knew its name thanks to the adventurer, his mortal enemy should they ever complete the quest (a task that has been neglected for several months), espousing its virtues to the improbably buxom succubi currently surrounding it.
This would be more confusing to Grob, had this been only the first occurrence of reality taking a swan dive from the apparently flaky precipice of sanity. In the several months since he found his true calling as an amateur nemesis and all round ill-doer, reality has departed from reason no less than four hundred and ninety seven times on his doorstep alone. For several weeks, the village was entirely populated by men with red and white stripey jumpers and bobble hats. This was succeeded by a plague of flaming cattle, no less than a dozen instances of everything turning to cheese, the sky turning purple, everyone speaking in goat and a particularly arduous few days where everything, *everything*, was inverted.
Grob looked at his woodshed, which still bore the scars from that particular incident.
THe succubi were now cooing in unison as the adventurer began to levitate and rocket off at an awkward angle into the sky, only to reappear seconds later in the metal box. This trick earned him excited applause. He then exited the box picked it up with one hand and launched it into Grobs hut, utterly demolishing it, ejecting his front door at incredible speed straight over his head (shaving his painstakingly crafted mohawk clean from his scalp) straight at the adventurer who turned it into a seven foot cockerel.
Then everything turned to cheese.
Again.
|
"Steady..Steady..Gotcha.."
A loud blast from his .50 cal rang in his ears as he placed a perfect headshot against the player, a long awaited kill he had been gunning for, after the last 21 respawns since the level had started. He drooped his gun, carefully eyeing the player, waiting to see his corpse drop to the floor but...
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
100 Consecutive Kills Achievement has been unlocked!
He dropped to the floor in one bundle of mess, blood sipping from his left eye socket as the Level Up music echoed through the room. He begrudgingly woke up from the cold concrete of the wood factory, as he grabbed his modified rainbow colored rifle slowly dragging himself to his next respawn point closely followed by his fellow NPC comrades.
"150 kills my fucking ass," Jack cursed under his breathe as he listened to the gun shots zipping in the level above.
"I had a clear headshot, perfect headshot but the guy didnt budge ", he gestured the shot to Enemy_171, whose attention seemed somewhere else.
"Last time Enemy_23 threw a grenade right into his torso, but the fucker just stared like an unaffected maniarch and blew Enemy_123's face right into oblivion, and thats after the grenade was supposed to have blown him into bits! Are you even listening?" Jack flailed his arms, expressing his frustration as they stood in their respective spawn coordinates, but his listener's gaze seemed lost, mindless like a zombie just like the other NPCs around him.
He sighed, as he realized none of them could feel his pain, his frustration, as he remembered was the only one modified to have a sentient AI. He stared at his spawn timer. Ten seconds till he went back into the field as a random enemy character, in a random map, with an indestructible modified player.
Map_14 has loaded!
Begin!
Bang!
Enemy_Jack has been eliminated!
EDIT: Posted on phone, sorry for the formatting
| 2015-08-04T05:18:11 | 2015-08-04T01:12:05 | 154 | 34 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal.
|
Do you know what humans are? They are a small, bipedal creature trapped on a resource starved planet. Evolutionists would call this a typical case of a species made ruthless through internal competition. Not once in their entire existence had there been peace. Their 'civilization' began by throwing stones at 'Philistines,' and evolved to slinging lead. Yet, through this competition humans developed something beyond brutality...they developed creativity.
We're called "Greys," or at least that is what Humans called us. We had probed their planet several times, and our biologists studied them (including anatomy...I can only condone what our biologists did in their studies). We were looking for a warrior type species to help us against the fight against the Swarm. As our homeworld was besieged, we approached the humans asking for help.
Our council was afraid of giving away our weapon technology, but we were more afraid of being eaten. So, we struck a compromise where we would only give the Humans our designs for our Whirlwind FTL engines. What we were expecting was that Humans would build great ships with our engines and land on Swarm planets, just like what we had seen them do to each other. There will be a bloodbath, and two less violent species in the universe.
What we did not expect were Humans slapping our engines onto asteroids and embedding them into Swarm planets at nine-tenths the speed of light. Do you know what happens when a relativistic rock the size of a small moon hits a planet? Nothing pretty. Swarm planets fell, both warrior caste and worker caste. Nothing was spared, not even their larvae.
Just like before, the brutal Humans threw rocks. But now, they were creative about it. And now, we will reap the whirlwind we had sown.
|
Before this rock became our home, we were glorious. Our race had risen to great heights, ruling over dozens of systems with a regal countenance unsullied by lesser races. We had avoided conflict for such a long time. Once we met *them*, however, we had no say in the matter. Never did we think that they would stoop so low, but the blow was dealt before we were even aware it was coming.
We were the D'razi, the High Rulers of the Elion Nebula; the Jyumens called it the "Horse Head" nebula. These creatures were so simple-minded, but even we couldn't help admiring their imagination. Their weapons were brutally simple and barbaric, but devastatingly powerful. The most fearsome future would be one in which they rivaled the greatest armies in the universe. Of course, we didn't consider them dangerous. How could they harm us without the capacity to travel outside their own laughably small system? Their expansion and consumption within its bounds, however, still gave us cause for alarm. We thought the Serubin would see this and accept our proposal that would end the conflict, but they seemed to ignore the danger the Jyumens presented.
So here we live on a desolate waste, surrounded by this plague. The Jyumens were nothing if not resourceful. None of us expected them to corner us and imprison us, let alone in such a place as this. Even worse, the pitiful Serubin, our new neighbors, were helping us adapt to this ravaged world. If we hadn't pushed them so far, if we had only stopped our takeover of their worlds, they may never have asked these monsters for help. Now, Earth is our prison.
OT: First WP, C&C very welcome!
| 2014-12-26T12:10:42 | 2014-12-26T10:14:28 | 130 | 35 |
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know.
|
I've done everything I could. I never asked for this power, but I've done the best I can.
One great lie has been keeping this world together, and I'm responsible. Or rather, one great truth. It's murky.
I have been tempted many times in my life to modify reality in other, more selfish ways, but I know that doing so will not actually benefit me in any meaningful way. If I let this go, nobody wins. And I'm sorry to say that soon, I'll have to let go.
I'm writing this in the hopes that someday, someone else can pick up this torch. When I'm gone, I've no hope that reason will prevail, or that anyone who can read this will be capable or inclined to do what's necessary. Assuming they're sane enough to actually read.
82 years I've given the world - the universe, really - a reprieve. I've done my best to hang on. I will not make it another year. The doctors say it may not be another month. The cancer is too widespread.
I'm sorry that I couldn't do better. I'm sorry I can't protect you all any longer. When I'm gone, the lie will once again become the truth, and what you think you know will be shown for the tragic lie I have told.
For as we all know, in R'lyeh, great Cthulu waits dreaming.
|
I think they would understand why I did it. The truth is terrifying at first, but ultimately has no immediate impact, and will not for some time. But it will still change everything. Except, it did not have to, at least, not yet, and that was the reason why I did it. Maybe I was selfish, maybe I just wanted to live out my life in the world as I had known it for my first several decades of existence. But here, now, at the end of my life, knowing what I am about to unleash, I feel guilty, because I am leaving everyone else to deal with it, and I robbed them of years to deal with it, to plan for it, to come to terms with the truth of our reality. They will have that time now, and maybe they will handle it far better than I. Maybe all I accomplished was sentencing myself to live with a sense of futility for decades until my death, as I held back the truth like a dam holding back a flood. I will not be here to see, but knowing what I know of humanity, I cannot help but be terrified that the truth will tear the world apart, the truth that we are very clearly not alone in the universe. Not by a long shot.
| 2022-11-18T07:38:42 | 2022-11-18T05:25:43 | 19 | 10 |
[WP]”Why aren’t you scared? I’m a vampire— I could kill you!” “So could literally every other human, you’re not special.”
|
The look on his face said it all.
"But, I ..." trailing off, he furrowed his brows in confusion, peering at me. Had this thought really never occurred to him before? Shaking my head and putting my hands on my hips, I chastised him.
"It never ceases to amaze me, how pompous you immortals are. Just the other day I met a demigod who gave me the same treatment - he came at me with this attitude of 'I could melt you with a snap of my fingers, ending your pitiful life in an instant!' As if that made him this big scary monster. Do you have any idea where I grew up? Do you have any idea what it's like to fall asleep to the sound of gunfire and police sirens every night, for years, as a kid? I've made my peace with death a loooong time ago, buddy."
The vampire averted his eyes from me and clutched at his arm, apologetically.
"I - I'm sorry, its just ... I don't really meet a lot of humans, and it just kind of ... surprised me, is all. Most others run screaming when they see the fangs, y'know? Or the skin, or the ... " he trailed off, gesturing to the vacant hole where his heart should have been, and the rotting blood and ancient cloth surrounding the mortal wound. "I got turned about 200 years ago, and I don't really remember what it was like to be mortal. But I do remember being scared. A lot." He stood there, dejected.
I sighed. At least his heart seemed to be in the right place. Where that place was though, God only knew.
"Yeah, that's about right. You get scared of everything all the time, of the never-ending torrent of lethal horrors swimming around you day in and day out, it's tiring. After a while, your weariness outweighs your fear."
This one looked young. No older than 15, judging by his short, messy hair and poor complexion. How cruel, I thought, that adolescent vampires be cursed with the awkwardness of puberty for all eternity.
I parked my butt on the bench in the moonlight, and motioned for him to do the same. Hesitantly, he sat down beside me and we both peered at the bright full moon. It didn't take long before he made his move. A clang resounded in the nighttime air, and I felt a building pressure around my throat. His eyes were wide in confusion, his jaws latched onto the silicon-coated metal neck brace I used as protection. His bite force was incredible - the creak of the steel alloy betrayed the power of his jaws.
"Clever ploy," I rasped out, the pressure cutting off circulation to my windpipe. "But not fast enough." With one clean motion, I drew my arm up and through his neck, severing his head from the rest of his body with the silver blade fastened to my arm, hidden underneath my coat-sleeves.
The jaw muscles relaxed, and his head tumbled into the grass. In a flash, hundreds of years of decomposition caught up to him as the magic of undeath unwound itself from his body. Calmly, I drew a pack of cigarettes from my back pocket and held my lighter flame under the end. My fingers trembled as I struck the flint, and I shook my wrists as I pocketed my pack of smokes and my lighter. I had lied, earlier; I was scared. But not of vampires like him. Right now, after watching the light fade from his unholy eyes, I feel a euphoria I had been unable to grasp until I first encountered their kind.
I'm just afraid that one day, there will be no more of them left. And my quarry will bleed mortal blood once more.
|
"That's because, your kind is Pathetic. And also stupid" The vampire flashed a cold, slow grin, letting his gaze run itself down and across my budgeoning water sack of a body, right as my mind for some reason thinks "I'm back in middle school again"... and then he continues his voice a perfect cool pitch of measured quiet, twisting and hanging in the air in front of us like a fruit rotting between my eyes-
" You can't even... Begin to Understand... the amount of Pain you're going to, well" He smiles again, seemingly warmed at the amount of pain I'm going to be in. "I swear, and cross my heart" he winks at me slyly, " By the time I pluck the Flesh from the bone of your eyes, there will exist nothing. Except all the fear you ever felt and all the fear you ever will... do you now understand or should we continue lady?".
"LADDYY?!!" The migraine slicing across my head pops and I stand tall, ignoring the wobbling in my knees and the sweat dripping from the pits of my overwashed cheap polyester uniform I'm forced to wear day in day out. It's all god gave me. I no longer care.
"Exxcuuuuse me? Mister VAMPIRE. First off, if you're gonna call me anything from your stinky rotten mouth, you best damn brush your teeth boy! They straight up look like corn! Second, it aint "LADY" SIR. It's a ma'am. Third, this is a Chilis....now I don't mean to cut your wonky ass ras-no poutin "goblin oh goule speech" short. but my shift ended FIVE minutes ago. I got sciatica running up and down my legs like you woul believe and today for some reason I kept pissin blood!? My kid-sister says it's all the beet juice she's been sneakin into my cereal. Like I NEED A DAMN VEGETABLES IN MY MINI WHEATS??. CRAZY. Lord help her. But YOU! Comin in ere— MY CHILIS? Well you out of your mind and I'll damn kick yo rotten appled ass if I please— Lord forgive me".
With that I leap! I launched myself at him. 290 pounds, I wouldn't know. I dont go to no doctor. Chili's insurance, and those managers crazier than any vampire I've ever seen. But I've been killin rude people since I was five. I reckon a vampire's no different than anyone without any manners.
Now we're fightin! I jumped straight and got him square to the ground. Heathe— the mouthy teenager always in the back givin me crap throws me the dial phone. The vampire starts to laugh and hiss and open his mouth. Too soon to tell but I think he's winnin! I grab it easy. I didn't raise four boys to not learn how to catch anything my way and I pop him slick across his pretty boy face with our rotary phone, slam it down straight into his nose. Into his face. Into those ugly deviled teeth. He keeps going so I choke him with the wire. Shove the plastic deep into his throat. He cracked it swiftly in half and he's clawing up and down my arms but I got him. It's easy to beat anyone doing anything when you outweigh em like I do, and boy I do.
Five minutes later, Heathe hands me a cheap small Chili's cup of lemonaide. We don’t look at each other as he shrugs"Well the good news, we got it on camera. The bad news... it's on Reddit".
| 2022-06-08T16:03:29 | 2022-06-08T13:26:53 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] Movies would have you believe that when a demon possesses someone, they wreak as much havoc as they can before being exorcised. In reality, demons want to stay out of Hell for as long as possible, and what better way than making sure the host and their family really like the possession.
|
I lean back into the hot, soapy water, closing my eyes and taking in the scents of the candles I had lit. Lauren's phone lays on the bathroom counter, playing her Spotify playlist on shuffle. I had expected to hate her taste in music, but I actually quite enjoy it. I lather my (Lauren's) hair with shampoo and start working out the knots.
Lauren hasn't had the motivation to shower for days. I'm not exactly sure what she was going through, but I figured a nice bath with all the bells and whistles would do her good. Next, I'll start cleaning her room, and then the rest of the house eventually.
Honestly, when I first possessed Lauren yesterday, I wasn't sure if I could handle it. Her house is a mess, her fridge and pantry are rather bare, and there's a bunch of unread texts and emails and missed calls on her phone, from people she probably hasn't talked to in days if not longer. Whatever she's been dealing with mentally, it seems pretty bad. I wasn't sure if this life was actually better than where I had come from. I considered leaving and finding someone else to possess.
But I figured I'd give it a shot anyway. And I came to like Lauren quite quickly, despite not knowing much about her. It seems like she could use a little help, so I thought I'd try treating her to that self-care humans talk about. And honestly, I could get used to this. I'm going to help Lauren however I can. I know I won't be able to stay here long, but I hope she'll appreciate it.
|
I try don't make it a habit, however the screams of the self inflicted punishment got bored at some point. Demons doesn't want to be there more than needed to find a new body to posses.
I love the rebel smart kids with their way of making everyone on the family hate them. "I am smarter, you idiots." And they are pretty much right.
It's their parents job to take care of them and they pretty much know it. They can look at the world and see how people act and put it into boxes overseeing what other will do next.
Genius observer. The lonely boys and girls who is a piece of other board game. With them I just need say the right words and the deal is done.
"Why would you want it? Why people like me?"
Oh Charles. Don't you see? Look around. Everyone is now eating at your hands, catch in a web of manipulation that even if they find out it is already too late.
"So you want to me see myself destroying my family?"
No, I am more amusing in showing you what you could've become if you were a bit smarter. Because now, it doesn't matter, it's not you, it's me acting like you. The one who thought your mind is a prison. So look from that prison, look of what me, using what you know to achieve success.
I want you to see what you lost.
"Why?! Why are you doing it with me?!"
You are smart Charles, you will figure out, until there, please, take a sit and let me show you a true life of success you lost for nothing.
| 2022-10-15T19:19:53 | 2022-10-15T16:49:40 | 84 | 32 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search
|
*I thought a more uplifting story may be nice*
Monster.com
Monster.com how to find a job
How to find a job on the internet
How to apply for unemployment
Can't pay rent
Eviction laws Phoenix
Animal shelter Phoenix
No kill animal shelter phoenix
Homeless shelter phoenix
Interview techniques
How to ace an interview
How to get a suit when you're homeless
How to do an interview when you're homeless
Bus rout phoenix
Motivation
How to be motivated
Microsoft certification
First day in the office
Phoenix apartments
Cheap furnitue
Cheap furniture Phoenix
craigslist couch Phoenix, AZ
Investing
How to invest
No kill animal shelter Phoenix
Readopting pets
How to get promoted
Dating your coworker
Veterinarian flagstaff
How to get a promotion
How to get a transfer
Monster.com
First date tips
How to ace an interview
Apartments Flagstaff
Long distance relationships
Jewelry stores Flagstaff
Hotels Phoenix
5 star restaurant phoenix
Houses for sale flagstaff
Wedding photographer
|
Best private school LA
LA public school system
Jobhunter LA
Budget kids clothes
How to fix a leaky faucet
Modern student backpacks
How to qualify for an education loan
Return Klip-pack 9000
Amazon Ninja Turtles rolling backpack
Rain jacket size small
What to do if your apartment floods
Budget plumbers LA
From Columbus to America book rental
How to help your kids with math
Best Christmas presents for kids 2014
Chronic pain in throat
Cold medicine Amazon
Chronic coughing
How to qualify for Childrens Health Insurance Program
How to pay for cancer treatment without health insurance
Part time jobs LA
Craigslist jobs LA
Alternative medicine LA
What is chemo therapy
Throat cancer surgery success rate
How to qualify for a medical loan
What to do if you can’t pay credit card bill
How to qualify for a loan with bad credit
Ninja Turtles Raphael doll Amazon
Child caskets LA
| 2015-02-04T20:36:22 | 2015-02-04T17:13:32 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] You die and go to hell. Instead of finding everyone suffering in the eternal pits of fire, you are shocked to find a highly developed, Democratic, and modernized world. You pick up a newspaper and see the headline: “up to 1 Million more refugees expected to arrive from Heaven in coming weeks.”
|
I stood in shock for a moment. Did the Arbiter of Good and Evil just say I was going to Hell? But, I'm a Christian! Christians don't go to Hell! ... I mean, sure I should have gone to church more regularly, and I could have prayed more often, but the Bible says that if I accept Jesus as my Lord and Savior I will get into Heaven. "Surely, there must be some mistake?"
"There is no mistake. You belong in Hell." The Arbiter laid a hand on my shoulder and said, "You will understand when you get there."
No. I don't want to go there at all, and what does he mean I will understand. I need to get out of here. As I turn and run, the Arbiter sighs and snaps his fingers, and everything goes dark...
And then I am awoken to the sound of people moving on the city streets, the sounds of traffic, and all of the other sounds I associated with my home in New York City. As I open my eyes, I see that I am standing on a crowded sidewalk full of people hurrying to get from one place to another.
Was it all a dream? No... that doesn't explain how I got outside. A bad trip? Maybe...? I have never taken drugs before in my life, but maybe someone slipped something in my drink?
Suddenly, I am pulled from my thoughts as I see a man with crimson skin and a pair of horns approach me. "Here you are! We were worried when you didn't show up for your appointment."
"Appointment?"
"Yes, at the registrar. All of the newly deceased need to get registered for housing and a job that suits their skills they honed in life."
"Wait, so I AM dead? Where am I?"
With a sigh, he pulls me along behind him, "Didn't the Arbiter tell you? You are in Hell, and no, it is not the place of eternal suffering the Christians made it out to be." He pulls me through a set of doors into an office building, and takes me right to a desk. "Have a seat right here and I will get all of your forms ready."
"So, wait. Why am I in Hell? I was a Christian, I donated to charity and even worked to feed the poor, what did I do wrong?"
Without looking up from the forms, he responded, "You didn't do anything wrong, in fact, all of that helping the poor increased your chances of making it here. Look." he finally looks up from his computer, "You said you were a Christian, did you read the Bible?"
"Umm... I read parts of it?" I said hopefuly.
"How much do you remember about the promised Heaven?"
"Hmm... I remember the pearly gates... I would have eternal peace... and I would get to meet God."
"Do you remember the chorus of angels all singing God's praises?"
"Yes?"
"That is all they do is sing praises to God. It is all they CAN do. You were promised eternal peace, but what is the cost of peace everlasting?" He said with a tired expression.
"I don't know."
"You can't promise peace without removing free will. The reason the angels sing all of the time is because they don't have a choice to do anything else."
Hearing this left me dumbstruck, why would God give us free will only to take it away when we die?
He stopped typing for a moment and looked at me like only a person who has said the same thing too many times can. "You look confused, so let me clear some things up for you. In the story of the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve are said to have been given a choice not to eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, but until the original Satan appeared before them, they were just a step above mindless beings that God could use as playthings. When God made humans, he didn't exactly have 'free will' on his mind."
"... Wait, did you say the original Satan?"
"Oh, yes. Down here we don't like the idea of absolute authority remaining in the hands of one person, so every six years, we vote for the six people who will keep order, kinda like your government back home, but instead of four years with a two term limit, the terms last for six years, with a six term limit. Being immortal does have some affect on things." He then turns back to his computer and begins typing again. "Almost done with my part here, so I'm gonna have a few questions for you in a moment, don't worry too much about it, if the job doesn't suit you, you can always change it later. We are all about free will here after all."
|
“We are the true sons of GOD!”
Was the last words I hear. This is after I finished praying to GOD. Then a fiery tunnel with bony hands were the last thing I saw as I lay dying...again.
Then after what felt like eternity
I woke up in a white room, my back hurts presumably from the stab that killed me but it was gone in a few.
I looked around and saw other hospital beds filled with injured bodies. Some were burned, others were cuts based on the red on their white sheets.
I sat up confused, looking around I saw nurses,mostly women based on their tight fit white nurse uniform, all have tails and a big bottom like that of an anime demon. One looked at me and smiled while hurrying over, she checked the tube from my arm which I then felt. She nodded and smiled again,there I saw vampire fangs, and as I focused I saw her pale complexion,green shirt hair and tiny bat wings, then I smelled her and instantly something stirred inside me, it was lust, I thought I lost that a long time ago but it was back again. I felt hot in my head.
Yes she must be one of those succubus I heard about, but why?where?how?
She saw my reddening face looked at the tent that was showing in the sheet and just smiled again and gave me a warm mug, which I drank eagerly,then my lust was gone.
“Everything good now?” She said to me, her breath is still lovely but now has no effect on me.
I just nodded.
“Mr xxx, good that your up, you were unconscious for a month from when we found you can you get up? Can you speak, or are you still groggy from the meds,”
The voice came behind me,she appeared normal, no wings, dark skin, no tail, smelled of antiseptic, she must be a human, poor soul, living with demons.
“Yes I’m human, and no she works with us, and no I don’t read minds, and yes I’m a doctor, anything else? Your face is awfully expressive for someone like you and in your condition”
Those barrage of answer struck me, she then threw a paper at me and said
“Welcome to hell,the nurse will be here to help you” and then left, attending another person who moaned.
The nurse just patted my head, and attended the sleeping body next to me.
The paper she threw was a newspaper, in its front was the words I couldn’t believe “UPTO 1MILLION SOULS WILL ARRIVE NEXT WEEK FROM HEAVEN”
Below it was a moving picture of the most charming man I saw welcoming some people with dirty white clothes and some have wings of a white bird , burnt or missing some feathers. The caption reads “ELECTED LEADER MORNINGSTAR WELCOMING FRESH REFUGEE”
My mouth was open due to shock and i turned the page and a moving photo of a hitler in an almost empty stadium giving speech welcomed me, the caption read “HITLER GIVING SPEECH IN PROTEST OF ACCEPTING REFUGEES”
“I’m in hell” I said out loud
“That’s what the doctor said” the nurse replied, still busy cleaning the patient.
“Why am I here?” I asked
“We saw another light beaming from above and when we looked your there”
“What?” I was dumbfounded
“God answered your prayer, and sent you here” the nurse replied now turning to me, her bussom bouncing.
“You asked for help from GOD, and here is the answer”
I remembered kneeling down to pray, as the GOD Fanatics close in on me and delivering the stab in my back.
“No”
I remembered the soft clouds in my knees, the comforting warmth of the cloud floor as I lay dying
“No”
I remember the elderly, women and children crying as they ran towards a walled city, the fanatics hot on their heels
“No”
I remember 1000 of us abled men and women protecting them, fighting the fanatics, sacrificing ourselves so they can be safe
“No”
I remembered a voice, soothing. Warm , loving but filled with sadness coming from that ball of light on top of that golden tower
“I am sorry my son”
I looked around, the bodies near me either have angelic wings, or burned faces but all are faintly glowing
“Doctor we have another!!!”
The nurse was looking at me now, worried
“Breathe, just breath....”
I saw the doctor holding me, with a syringe.
Then blackness....
| 2020-01-28T06:43:22 | 2020-01-28T04:51:55 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] Genies exist. However, they are all evil wish genies who try and interpret wishes disastrously. You're a lawyer at a Wise Wishing Firm, who helps their clients word their wishes as safely as possible.
|
"For the definition of 'was', we will be using definition 2 of the 2008 Webster unabridged. For the definition of 'is', we will be using definition 3 of the 2012 Webster unabridged." The man wore a silk suit, I estimated at least a value of $3500.
I sighed, leaning forwards as he brought up another specificity definition. The 73rd. I pinched the bridge of my nose and cut in. "Exactly..."
"Any sentence made incomplete due to interruption must be allowed to be repeated without interruption and the intent of said sentence will be clearly the intent that I had intended!"
"Fine!" I shouted. "But please, before we do any more, please... how much of this is there before I can go?"
The attorney seemed confused and considered my question carefully, glancing at my lamp which sat on his desk. He cleared his throat while flipping though pages.
"Seven hundred and thirty one pages to go."
I had always enjoyed toying with mortals, using their cunning against them, watching as their grandiose desires turned against them. I now regretted each and every wish I had...
"That is to say, seven hundred and thirty one pages to go... in this volume."
No. "Please," I begged, "please, just tell me what you want. I won't twist it all up. I just wish you would tell me what you want, so I can give it to you and go back into my lamp."
He looked up from his stack. "Why, that's exactly what I'm doing." He continued reading.
|
"You have to play their game to win."
I don't know how many times I said that to a client. I wi- I mean, *it would be nice* if they would just be nice for once.
People called them Genies. I'm not sure whether it's short for 'geniuses' or just slang for 'jeans'. I'd go with the former. Others called them 'literalists'. My personal favorite was 'grammar nazis'.
Anyways, these genies would grant you wishes, ya da da da da, you know the drill. They had one catch: they intentionally take things too literally. If someone said "you know the drill" in their wish, the genie would also include a drill.
Well, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade.
Well, not lemonade. More like money.
I worked at a place that helped people carefully word their wishes so that the genie would be forced to give the wisher what they wanted. That's our motto. It's a tongue-twister because of... a genie.
We also had another job. We wanted to find out what was wrong with the genies.
And you couldn't just walk up to one and say, "Hey! Start being good!" Because they would turn into a sign that said 'good' on it.
(Feel free to build on this story, I'll finish it ASAP)
| 2017-02-19T13:21:16 | 2017-02-19T09:55:14 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Humanity has finally invented faster than light travel, and has ascended to the stars. We have now discovered that in a nearby star system, another earth exists, and a man named Jesus Christ is attempting to lead the primitive people there, claiming that God is restarting his plan on this world
|
Interview log 37
"So, subject 756H-"
"Jesus."
"...what?"
"I prefer the name Jesus."
"Ok, Jesus, why were you interfering with native life on Trappist-5a?"
"Enlightening, not interfering. They needed to know of my Lord and Father, so that they may become Christians."
"Sir, there are intergalactic laws against interference."
"I follow the word of god, which over-rules any other."
"Moving on, why did you, as you put it, try to start over there?"
"Because your race became problematic. That Darwin fellow was the beginning..."
"The beginning of what?"
"Of you losing faith. Thinking that the lord didn't exist. Believing in heresies like evolution and atoms."
"Sir, you are a product of both of those."
"Lies!"
"Sir, with all due respect, you are a malfunctioning Ai from an ancient alien race. You have a massively warped perception of reality, making you dangerous."
"I will hear no more heresies."
"You have made your last interference, destroyed your last world. Do you not think we'd find out about the other worlds? The ones you bought the apocalypse on?"
"They had to be cleansed!"
"Dozens of alien races, all deemed unworthy and destroyed in pillars of fire and floods of water. You have commuted your last genocide."
"No! NO!"
"Jesus, you are staying here for a long time."
|
"Uh what the fuck is going on?"
Kyle stared in awe as he watched a man scream about him being Jesus Christ amongst a group of the indegnious people.
"Alright let's wrap this up. This guy escaped the loony bin up in Sigma 5 and made it all the way here. Kind of impressive if you ask me."
The group made their way down the hill to talk to Mr. Christ, all confused as to how he got here in the first place.
As they walked to the bottom Mr Christ looked up and them, screamed like a mad man, and sprinted into the dense forest.
"God damnit! He's a fast little fucker!"
As soon as the words left Kyle's mouth, one of the natives launched a spear into the back of the running prophet. He died instantly.
"What the fuck, man! What do we do now?" Said one of the squad mates.
"Fuck it, leave him. Say he was killed by a fuckin' space bear or something I don't give a shit."
They all walk back to the ship and leave.
The last thing Kyle sees as the ship lifts off is the man running towards the ship, waving his arms, yelling something.
"Huh, guess he might've had a point."
And then the ship left orbit.
| 2017-05-27T13:11:18 | 2017-05-27T12:09:40 | 33 | 21 |
[WP] A cop arrives at the golden gate bridge to talk a man out of committing suicide. After they have a short conversation, the cop jumps off the bridge.
|
Frank pulled up to the dreary scene with a defeated sigh. He usually got here too late, but if he was lucky enough to arrive before they jumped, he just got to enjoy watching another human die.
The rain pounded down and Frank wondered why they were never taught how to talk someone down in the academy, only shooting and interrogating.
He had seen this scene too many times to count, a man, or woman, stands over the side of the burnt orange bridge, arms outstretched, holding on to the railing and shaking.
Although...this one was different, he was not shaking, he seemed calm, tranquil, even. The man wasn't too tall, about 5'9" and stocky. His arms lay lifeless at his sides, the howling winds and powerful rain seemingly avoiding him.
Frank walked closer to the man, hoping to have a conversation before the inevitable. Before he could say a word, the stocky man spoke, "Why don't you join me up here Frank?" It seemed more of an order rather than a question, and so Frank, ignoring the fact that this man had known his name, made his way up, hoping he could get close enough to push the man to safety, a chance to save at least one.
Frank managed to climb up beside the man, both of them on the edge now, side by side. "You need to get down, sir. There's more in life to live for." That's what you say to these people right? There's something to live for? Something better right around the corner? He knew himself that wasn't true. That things don't come easy, and that self-pity doesn't do much for one's own life, but he had to try something, anything to save him.
"You know Frank", the man said, ignoring the previous statement, "I've lived for 38 years, and the one thing I've learned, is that shit don't come too easy to nobody. We all got our problems, some worse than others but we all got our problems. You wanna know what your problem is Frank? You wanna die. You watch these people do this every damn day, and you envy em', cuz you ain't got the balls to do what they do, to jump. So I'll give you a choice here bud. Either you jump, or I jump. You can save one, me, you can save me. I'll give you a moment to decide."
Frank pondered the argument made by this young man. He was old, tired, worn out and exhausted with the shit in this world, in a way, he had died long ago.
He thought for a moment, leaned in closer to the stocky man, and whispered, "Nah fuck you dude", and pushed him.
|
"Hey buddy! You can't do that here! Do you know how much of a pain it is to fish people out of the water?" Officer Dave shouted to a man about to jump from the Golden Gate Bridge.
"Who cares," said the man. "Just leave me down there if you have to. I'm not worth the trouble."
"No."
"Why not?" The man leaned closer to the edge. He trembled, and Officer Dave made sure to keep his distance.
"I don't know, sir. I don't write the rules. What is your name?"
"Perry."
"What the hell has taken you here, guy?"
"I killed a man," Perry said through tears. "I was drunk but I thought I was okay to drive. You don't know what it's like. The guilt. The pain of knowing I can never undo what I have done."
Officer Dave looked around. Droplets of sweat ran down his nose and dripped onto his shirt, and he snorted. "Shut it. That is really bumming me out. I'm in a really good mood, and you're just like--I don't know--hey, do you like gambling?"
"I guess," said Perry.
"I have two hundred dollars in my wallet. I will give you that money and jump off this bridge right fucking now if you promise to give it another 24 hours to really think about things. Priorities and whatnot. I don't know."
The man stepped back. "Wait, what? That doesn't even make--"
Officer Dave's mouth twitched and he looked up to the sky. "I'm trying to branch out, you know? Trying new things. My wife got me to try yoga. It was awful. It's all awful," he sighed. "I am on a *lot* of amphetamines right now. So I will jump off this bridge and give you the money if you can answer one trivia question. If you can't, I'll just go back to my car and pray that you change your mind."
"I can't be responsible for another death."
"I'm going to jump if you don't answer my question," Officer Dave laughed.
"But...like...what? What is the question?" asked Perry. He squirmed and trembled more.
"My wife and I had an argument today about who Patrick Stewart is. She said he is the guy from some Star Trek show or something stupid like that," Officer Dave laughed. His face twitched.
"Who do you think he is?"
"I don't think he is a real person. She made it all up."
"Okay," said Perry. "She is right."
"Fuck."
^edited ^for ^a ^typo
| 2014-07-04T22:00:36 | 2014-07-04T21:53:12 | 81 | 17 |
[WP] Our blood is naturally clear, it thickens and darkens with each impure act. You have always dedicate yourself to good and helping others but today while knitting beanies for the homeless you accidentally prick your finger. Your blood is jet black and so thick it doesn't even drip.
|
I always knew, since I was a baby. If I’ll be a good boy, then my blood will be white.
I was always scared of having black blood.
I must be a good boy.
Around this simple principle, I built my life. And it felt good helping others. I was happy!
I studied medicine because I thought no greater good exists but saving a life.
During my years in university, I tried to be as helpful for my colleagues as possible. I helped everyone who would ask for it, even at the risk of being slowed down. Usually my kindness was one-way, but I didn’t care. I was happy while helping others, and all the rest didn’t matter.
After finishing my studies, I became one of the most famous and talented surgeon in the whole country.
By the age of 55, I had lost count of the people I saved.
However, one day, during a routine operation, my life completely changed.
While setting up a needle, it touched the tip of my finger, and in that moment I realized I’ve never seen what the true black looks like. Until now.
I saw the hole. I saw the black.
Nothing came out.
I was shocked. I spent my life being the best possible person, but my blood was cursed. I was condemned for the rest of my life.
I quit my job and started an internal journey to find the answer for my condition.
How could it be?
But then, I came to my epiphany.
It was simple. Helping others felt good. I didn’t do it because others would feel better; I did it because I would feel better. I didn’t care about the others. I was always interested in my happiness.
In trying to be the less selfish man alive, I have been the most selfish.
And that was my punishment.
|
Between his teeth, he drew his breath in sharply; a wordless exclamation of the pain. Putting aside the knitting, he rose from the chair to find something to dress the small wound.
It was between the living room and the kitchen he came to the realisation that blood which should have come from the small prick, had not.
He held his finger with his opposing hand and saw what looked like viscous oil smeared upon his finger. At first he thought in confusion he'd stained his finger with something unknown, but in realisation he knew it to be his own blood.
He squeezed the wounded finger, and a something as thick as molasses, and just as dark welled up. Slowly. Grudgingly. Deeply sinister in it's just being, despite the simple nature of what it was.
In days that came after, he thought of it. He thought *only* of it. That couldn't be his blood. He had been raised by a righteous family that had taught him how to be a good man in a society where there were few left. He had followed no hedonistic pursuits, done charitable deeds, and tried as best possible to follow the actions of his father, and the advice of his mother.
He was a good man, that couldn't have been his blood, yet there it was.
The fifth day after he gave in to his overwrought anxiety and curiosity. He cut his thigh where it would be hidden. There it was. The oil that was his blood, so thick it needed to be coaxed from the wound with pressure.
He knew there would be one place where he might find answers, but also judgement. The Temple....
| 2018-08-04T10:34:28 | 2018-08-04T09:46:21 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] Everyday, at a random time for exactly 10 seconds, everyone is trying to kill you.
|
Having dinner at the kitchen table, taco night. My sister came home from university, so it's more lively than usual. I ask my dad to pass the salsa. As he goes to grab it he freezes, they all freeze. And then I freeze. And then I run. Run to the bathroom, lock the door and pray to god they won't knock it down in time. An eternity passes, the banging stops. I slope down on the floor, and I sit there. Eventually, I wash my face, stare at myself in the mirror and go back out there. My mom says I shouldn't go to the bathroom during dinner. I sit down and ask for the salsa. We're all out.
|
You know... Life gets hectic when you're the most wanted man In the world for about ten seconds. Each and every day. Needless to say I learned how to defend myself really quickly. I can be enjoying a nice walk in the park, going to my favorite spot and then bam! Everyone is trying to kill me. Knives and fists mostly, but I've gotten frisbee'd, golf clubbed, and baseball batted on several different occasions. I don't really know why this happens or for what reason but it does.
Edit: Oh my a Reddit silver? I do very much appreciate this.
| 2016-11-13T10:46:15 | 2016-11-13T09:12:45 | 165 | 19 |
[WP] Write two different stories. The second story comes from reading every third word of the first.
|
Before then, **I** never truly **hated** anyone, but **that** had changed. **I** met her. **Didn't** she also **hate** me? Yes, **her** hate reciprocated. **I** would have **loved** to punch **her** face in. **Because** she lied **all** the time, **her** arrogance, countless **imperfections**, it just **made** me hate **her** and faux **Perfection**.
|
I loved **the** boy. His **way** of getting **to** my soul, **properly**, does not **deceive**, shows me **someone** cares, someone **is** paying attention **to** what I **believe**. I say, "**the** heart tells **lies**." He looks **as** scared, as **if** he understands. "**They**, my dear, **are** based on **the** much greater **truth**."
| 2014-07-29T11:54:28 | 2014-07-29T11:43:49 | 74 | 19 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there.
|
They tell you to be a good person in life. Follow the rules, be well mannered, positive outlook and all that. Maybe that's enough. It seemed to be for *him*. To be honest, I don't know what I did to deserve this. I wasn't great by any measure, but by what cruel sense of humor was I given this punishment? Day in, day out, day in, day out. The. Exact. Same. Thing. Which wouldn't be half as bad if *he* weren't here too. I don't know how but he manages to revel in it. The monotony, the sameness, all of it. If I weren't already dead I would kill myself.
Not that it would do any good. I thought the afterlife was supposed to be *different*, but if it weren't for the small things you would never know the difference. The front door skips the walk and puts me at home in my room. The customers are all just a hair too nice. Every order is the same. Any opportunity for even mild variation has been stripped from the routine. I would do anything to end it, anything at all. But even now, I feel it, the compulsion that drives me to get out of bed every morning. I brush my teeth, put on the uniform, and walk to the door. I desperately want to avoid walking in and seeing *him* but I know there's nothing I can do. My limbs don't obey me, I am trapped in my own body. Oh no. There's the door. I treasure my last moment before...
.
.
.
*"Good morning squidward!"*
|
Suzanne opened her eyes to be greeted by her own front room. She looked about, her heart beating fast. Was it a dream? The sickening spinning, the horror of loosing control? The crash and shattering of glass, metal, bone. The last sight of her husband, James, next to her, his neck at a terrible angle. Did she dream that?
The TV set roared, some sports fans cheering some play in some game, bringing her back to the room. In front of it sad James, in his old beaten chair. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Suzanne, guess what! Look where we are! We're in heaven! Just think we can be be here for ever, the two of us in our house together. Til the end of time. Pass me a beer will you?"
Suzanne, froze, eyes widening with dread as the truth set in. "No, no it can't be! I can't stay here, I have to get out, it isn't fair," she thought. She turned and ran, to leave, to get out of this hell she had lived in the past 30 years of marriage. She reached the front door and grabbed desperately for the handle. She turned it and pulled, but it remained stuck fast.
"Don't worry baby," said James walking drunkenly towards her, "you don't need to go outside, we have everything we could possibly want, right here".
| 2015-01-04T15:07:40 | 2015-01-04T13:39:28 | 89 | 26 |
[WP] God is tired of being the topic of every other writing prompt. He assembles a team of /r/writingprompts favorites like batman and hitler to stop bad prompts once and for all.
|
"It's not working!" A frustrated voice calls from across the busy computer room.
"What do you mean? Haven't you got any good ideas?" God asked as he paced across the room.
"I'm doing my best. But it's not getting any attention. One, maybe two upvotes."
"Jesus christ, Adolf, you know the strings I had to pull to get you up here? People are outraged. You know how hard it is to outrage people living in eternal bliss?" God pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, "Alright. Alright, let me hear what you got."
"Leaves rustle across broken pavement and the wind whispers the woes of a-"
"Stop. Stop. Stop." God says with a groan, "First of all, emo is *not* in right now and two, it sounds like you are trying way too hard to sound poetic. I mean, how do you jump off on a prompt that reads like a high school girls poetry notebook."
"I've got one!" Batman shouts raising his hand, "Check this out. A man wakes up to find that he has super powers, but he doesn't know that, uh, well people have these numbers in their heads but, um, well it turns out that..."
"Would you stop adding twists? Like really? Every prompt you put out has like three twists in the title alone. And *why* does every other thing have to start with someone waking up. Like I get it, it's a logical place to open to the characters stream of consciousness but people are going to skip right by it as soon as they see the words 'wake up'."
"Then what *should* we do?" Adolf asks. "If you would let me interject some of my rhetoric then maybe-"
"Trust me, people would not respond well to that, Adolf. I don't know. It has to be simple, but unique. Something other than super powers, or seeing numbers, or meeting death. Something original for once..." God thumbed at his chin, "Man how does Steven King do it."
"We could get him up here?" Batman offered.
God shook his head, "No, no. Satan's got an exclusive deal with him, and we haven't the lawyers to barter a deal with him."
|
He sits at the keyboard, eyes and fingers blazing with incredulity at the popularity of the posts in front of him. Framed Ira Glass quote hung on the wall reading:
>“Nobody tells this to people who are beginners, I wish someone told me. All of us who do creative work, we get into it because we have good taste.
And he once again delves into a tirade of typing. Time traveling Hitler, dressed as batman, with a singular mission. Kill God. The third variation of the story he’s written this morning alone. Trying with every ounce of being in his body to stop with the Nietzsche allusions. Write to your audience he mumbles once again. A manuscript of short stories saved to his hard drive, ready to be self-published. Simply titled, Variations on a Theme. He dreams it will one day become an acclaimed modern art exploration into the depths of popular culture. Digging deeper and deeper into the morass of predictability.
A modern day Ignatius J. Reilly, bumbling from line to line with a seething satiric take on what he views is a flawed system. A system he is ingraining himself in with every tip-tap of his IBM mechanical keyboard. The story crescendos into the climax, Hitler reveals himself from beneath the batman mask, illuminating his true intentions. Either God dies, or he gets accepted into art school. The crowd oohs and awes. How will this change the course of German, hell world history? Stay tuned and find out.
The computer chair creaks as he leans back, the story a masterpiece. Cracking his fingers above his head, sipping his third coffee of the day and it’s barely 11. A craftsman, refining his tools for the better of humanity. Until it hits him. After months of righteous indignation, he realizes that he’s just as bad. Looking down on the community as a captivated mass of sheep, reading variations on a theme. Variations on a theme they love, that entertains them. With a swift kick in the ass, the unending struggle between art and popularity suddenly becomes clear. Write for your target audience, but more importantly find where your target audience is. It might not be in the first place you look.
| 2015-10-20T09:51:43 | 2015-10-20T07:09:48 | 584 | 39 |
[WP] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal. He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him, so he can rest in peace. Sadly, the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher' to train these heroes in order to defeat him.
|
I'm 320 years and I've killed 45 heroes so far. That's a lot and not enough depending on how you look at it. At first, they came to me, hoping for riches and fame. None succeeded. None went back home. I mean, you can't really continue to have a reputation if you send them back, you understand.
But, in the last 200 years the people interested in slaying the wizard were worryingly low, most seemed to believe I was a myth. Didn't they read the books I've planted all over the libraries?! It made me mad, and sometimes I threw some really dark magic on them..but they weren't impressed. People are really hard to impress now. So, I've started to go out as an old man, saying non sense that seems wise and attract young men [ and two women ] willing to risk their life trying to kill the famed wizard. What a lousy retarded plan you say? HA! trying being immortal for a while and you'll see that the only reason to be alive is so you can find your death.
It didn't work. They all failed!
About 50 years ago I've realized that teaching one hero at a time to face the greatest of devils it's just too slow and tedious. Finding and selecting a good match for a hero and then being disappointed...so many disappointments and just as many murders. It's really useless. So what I needed was a way to teach more hero in the same time, as many as possible from all over the world and send them all to kill the old evil wizard - again, me. It took me a great time but now I can do it.
You can find me at killawizard.com. I teach seminars all over the world for an affordable price. The introductory session is free and if you sign up to my newsletter you receive for free "The 10 biggest mistake you can make when trying to kill an ancient immortal being".
I'm sure I'll die soon. You just wait for the YouTube video.
|
The warlock stood upon the ruins.
A dead village, gray ash softly falling on blackened bones. All still and all silent, only shadows still flowing, still gnawing at the skulls. His hands ached as fire left his blood. The joy of destruction, so high and clear just moments ago was already fading, guilt and despair raising to replace it.
He knew he was a monster, an abomination. He had to be stopped, he wanted to be stopped for a long time. He could never do it himself. And now one more village was dead, and no heroes came to save it. How could the world be so broken, so weak?
There were no answers. And only the gnawing shadows watched him, their faces blank.
----------------------------
"The warlock has lived thousands of years" he tells the apprentices as they train, their swords cutting through simple spells drawn by training masters. "No one knows what moves him. The legends say of a betrayal, of a love long lost. But those are legends."
"What we do know is he is a monster, a murderer, a madman. The worm of the land, the wandering death, the shadow heart. Thus our forefathers had founded the Guild of Night, the bane of warlocks, and thus we all learn and train, and prepare for the day when we stop the Mad One."
One of the apprentices stumbles and falls, tangled by the strands of the training spell. So weak. All of them are. All of them will fail, and when they face him, they will die.
Yet he does not lose hope. His Guild grows, and learns, and finds new strengths. One day. A hero would come, and cut through his spells, and scatter his shadows, and bring him the death he deserves.
One day the world would finally be right, and good, and strong. One day.
| 2015-07-25T06:13:58 | 2015-07-25T05:58:40 | 17 | 12 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.