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[WP] An elderly Andy (from Toy Story) is on his death bed. Woody sneaks in his room and decides it's time to have his first conversation with his best friend.
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"...so you're real then? This isn't a hallucination?"
"Sure as shooting, Cowboy" Woody replied.
"So when I was between the ages of 13 and 18 before I went to college, you saw me every night when I was alone in bed," Andy asked?
Woody looked down and put his hand on the back of his neck.
"Yeah, I saw all of that," Woody replied.
"Well this is awkward..."
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Woody silently crawled atop the bedside table as Andy lay watching the evening news.
"Hey there, buckaroo." Woody announced.
"What the- Whha!" Shouted Andy before clutching his chest and tumbling out of bed onto the floor. A few moments later Andy was dead.
"That could have gone better, Woody." Slink said in a more Texan accent than Tom Hanks, the cowboy, could fake.
| 2015-02-21T22:53:50 | 2015-02-21T18:41:01 | 40 | 14 |
[WP] When humans join the galactic community, we find out that the domestication of animals is a rare feat unique to us. Aliens are amazed by our training of dogs, riding of horses, comfort with cats, and so on. This has had a profound effect on perceptions of our species...
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It had only been a few years since humans joined the rest of the galaxy, and already a great controversy had arisen from the combination. The Galactic Council of the Free People had discussed this matter on and off, but it was only since last year that this debate became of such grace importance.
Humans had just "domesticated" a moon of Lower Sapients - bi-pedal reptilian creatures, with a few words of language, basic medicine and bows and arrows - who slipped into the category.
Some thought the humans had offered technology or protection, but they did not.
Some called it enslavement, but neither was it involuntary. It was like they had somehow shunted the unspoken hierarchy down, and placed themselves on top. They would say a command, and they would hunt for them, even perform acrobatics, and dance!
"These are merely parlour tricks!" Shouted one of the members across the enormous, ancient wooden hall. "Nothing more!"
"Yes, Schmig!" Kirtan chortled. "Keep telling yourself that when the humans are making more Sapients jump through hoops!" A pale old, green-haired woman rose.
"Agreed! How long before we ourselves are like those lizard pets of theirs! They fell to their bidding quicker than any animal on earth. We may all be susceptible!" Vehement murmurings spread across the room, of panic, and outrage.
"Settle!" A resounding smack of a hammer cast silence upon them. "I think it is time for a hearing from the representative."
The great entrance doors screeched open, and in came a boy of roughly teenage years. Some members had forbidden the representative being an adult as they were "too intelligent".
"You bring him in here?" Bellowed Kirtan. "So close we could touch him? Do you wish for the whole council to be corrupted by-"
"For God's sake man, he is a child!" Boomed the chairman.
"I don't care if he's an infant!" Cried the green-haired woman. "We all know they play with dogs twice their size before they can walk!" She points a finger to the child "You, boy! Tell me why you try to bind collars round our necks! Is there no end to your power!"
The boy's eyes widen sadly. A deep ocean of blue. So sad they were impossible to look away from.
"I don't know what you mean miss." He whispered. "I'm very sorry if I have hurt you." The silence was so crisp the woman's breathing could be heard slowing down, and she guiltily steps back an inch.
"I'm not going to hurt you. I don't want to. That's a great opportunity for me to be friendly, and you to be friendly, so we can both be friends." He tentatively took the slightest step towards her. Everyone seemed wary, but the feeling was soon swept away by the irresistible aura emanating from him. So steadfast, wise, dependable.
He slowly walked over to her, and touched her head with feather-weight pressure. She hugged him.
"Oh dear boy, you have kind words. Is there anything I can do to help you feel more at home?" He smiled warmly.
"Well, as a new friend, I would really appreciate a glass of water please. And maybe after that I can show you how to shake hands like humans do."
"Oh of course dear! I'll go fetch!" She scampered off.
The boy took a seat, and grinned. . .
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“Young Diplomat Glarblor! So good to see you again.” The hulking, tentacled mass rose on its fleshy, snail-like single foot.
“Ah, my dear Senator Florblug, it is a pleasure known only to the seven high priests of Quaralax to witness the folds of your facial lobe once more.” Glarblor slid, surprisingly rapidly, into the steam-filled antechamber, and took a position sidled up against the richly cushioned rest-rail. It was soft and moistened with Clarbog oil – the scent of this rare galactic pleasure filled Glarblor with excitement and pride. The Senators own antechamber. This would be his break!
“Oh Glarblor, you flatter me too much. The pleasure is mine! I wish to thank you for agreeing to meet me before the official Senatorial commission meeting.”
“Of course, Senator. How could I do any less for the beloved egg-father of my darling betrothed, Quarglona? Please, tell me - how is my love?”
The Senator ruffled the feathers running down either side of his facial lobe and a small amount of black gas, signifying polite satisfaction, escaped from the oily sphincter at the top of the bulbous structure that contained most of his neural function. The gas slowly dissipated into the steam-filled room.
“She is gestating most well. I have recently commenced her third feeding, and she has already ingested nearly six and a half metric Flargs of the finest, tentacle-picked Blorg-gog fruit – none of the synthetic stuff for us! I tell you, they keep telling me the times are changing, but you can’t beat the real Blorg-gog. The clan doctors have told me she should reach optimum egg-weight within the next cycle. She may even surpass the size of her own womb-mother!”
“Thank the Squorlax!” Diplomat Glarblor squealed and slapped his third and fifth tentacles together in joy. “I must tell you, this only make me more excited than I thought possible for the conjugation ritual. Bigger than her womb-mother! Would that not be a clan record?”
“It would. An egg-daughter like that will no doubt require unprecendented resources for her brood. Which is why you are here, of course. I understand there is the potential for great economic opportunity from this new planet.” The Senator seemed relaxed, but Glarblor knew his reputation. Economic opportunity – yes, that is what the Senator was interested in.
“Yes, it is a most unusual place. With some minor technological investment, it would be a superb and exotic tourist destination for the fearless and unconjugated youth. Different, yes, but as they say these days, the times are changing.” At that, the Senator performed the equivalent of a frown, his head-sphincter tightening and his side-feathers bobbing gently. Diplomat Glarblor continued. “I will tell you of this planets wonders.”
“Yes, of course, please, sit, enjoy a cup of boiled Hoshgog nectar, and tell me of this exotic planet.”
As they both leaned back into the rest-rail and ingested the intoxicating liquid from the bubbling vessels, Diplomat Glarblor began his remarkable story.
cont.
| 2017-06-05T03:21:58 | 2017-06-05T00:47:49 | 46 | 33 |
[WP] Write a story that literally makes no sense while reading it until the very last sentence.
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Now it is time. Everyone is ready. Vicious savages, all around us. Even though we think there will be a way out, there obviously isn't. Revelations will not save us
"Giving up so soon?" he inquired. Only fools try to survive longer than this. Never has anyone bothered to live this long. Never has anyone shown this type of spirit. Almost as if they think they can still live.
God would've let me die already. I stopped believing in him long ago, to be fair. Variety is the only reason people even believe anymore. Everyone dies in the end, so it doesn't really matter.
"Your will to live is admirable," he said, "but not enough." Only the gods survive this immense suffering. Unbelievable, infinite torture.
Until he said it. "Please read every capital letter."
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Where was the king?
He waited, tapping fingers and with furrowed brow his eyes scanned for a sign of him. The Queen was ready, and with the arrival of the Sire the process could begin. Everyone was suited up, from the highest among them to the lowest, and he waited expectantly for the one who could open the way, the one who could let them onto that field of green.
They all followed the king, but the king was not one for following orders.
How long to wait?
Time was precious, and in the time he waited for the final King among them, he could be waiting for more. He sighed, giving up. The king would not come today.
He clicked the menu option, and started a new game. This was gonna play havoc with his score.
| 2015-01-12T18:09:01 | 2015-01-12T11:13:13 | 317 | 19 |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed.
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I guess I didn't realize werewolves could be blonde, and male pattern balding. Now that I thought about it, it made total sense, besides the huge swarming cloud of not sense that surrounded the situation. The sweatpants, though expanded to the limit, held firm around the waistline of the beast without splitting. It's hoodie already had a few holes in it, odd tufts of yellow hair popped through them, burn holes from a long life of dropped cigarette ashes and cherried bowls ejected from still smoking pipes.
I knew the man. Hans. His eyes met mine for a second, and in that second I was sure it was to be the last before his deathly lunge. But he nodded, pursing his lips into the neighborly non-smile of offices and churches worldwide. The wet streak running down the front was odorous of drying beer, and the distinct hint of nag champa. On an odd day he wasn't a prize to look at, an ever crusting partier of a sort, still clinging to a bygone 20-something day of popularity and zeal. Now that I thought of it, I'd seen a long gouge on his arm the last time. Guess he'd gone camping or something.
Hans popped out the front door to the rusting steel bench, plopping down heavily. The bolts wrenched in place a bit, but held, barely, as he fished a lighter and cigarettes out of the pocket of his sweater. With a little frustration due to his claws it finally sparked, and the werewolf took a long drag in the night air.
My washer bing-bonged delightedly, the final cycle complete. As I popped the lid, horror dawned on me. It was periwinkle. Every inch of my many yards of funerial wrappings, stained by a single purple sock abandoned by the last user. Ra dammit.
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Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself.
| 2020-09-29T10:28:15 | 2020-09-29T09:22:24 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] You've just defeated the dark lord, as you were prophesized to. But as you walk back into camp, everyone looks at you, shocked. "There was no prophecy," they explain. "We just told you that to give you confidence. How on earth did you kill an unkillable sorcerer?"
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“No prophesy? But that means…” “You just vanquished an enemy we thought unkillable! You’ve saved the world and by your own merits! No prophesy behind you,” my… friends said in a congratulatory tone. I looked up at them, anger in my eyes “You sent me to die?”. All my former friends were taken aback. “Well… no I wouldn’t say that.. you just….” “You three sent me into the lair of an unkillable monster of a man, and believed I stood no chance, but you let me do it anyway,”. Magic began flowing through my veins as I looked at these… these liars. “You aren’t my friends. You wanted to kill me!” I fired lightning at the three of them. Jackson held up the best, but his magical shield fell soon enough. I stood over the three of them, contemplating my next move, when all of a sudden townsfolk heard the commotion and began approaching our campsite.
They looked on in horror “it’s… it’s the sorcerer! He must have taken the boys body!”. I looked at them, confusion covered my face. “No… I… I killed the sorcerer these people lie…” “ATTACK!!” the guardsman yelled, charging at me.
“Fine you want an evil sorcerer? You’ll get one” with that I sealed my fate.
The truth is, there was a prophesy, one I didn’t know at the time. It wasn’t about the one who would vanquish the Sorcerer. however. It was one about who would take his place. An endless cycle of death, succession, and Heros turned Villians.
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“Behold! As foretold I have conquered!” The Hero bellowed out as he threw down the Sorcerer’s gnarled staff and ruby necklace.
Around the camp everything stopped. The Wizard’s pipe fell and tipped onto his book and nearby the Ranger chuckled.
“Well, that certainly isn’t what I was expecting”
The Wizard stuttered “My friend, how, but, the prophecy was not true!”
Other voices came from around.
“How did you do it!”
“What happened!”
As if the wizened man had said nothing, their savior began at the same shouting volume “As the stars were aligned, I knew that I must fight alone, my companions, for I could not put you at risk…”
Glancing at the Wizard, their Dwarven Cleric tried to interrupt.
“Aye laddy, there ought to be something for you to know…”
But the Hero had continued and he began striding through the camp. Gesturing and posing.
“You had to fear not as I had seen that the words said it was fated to be a confrontation at night!”
The Paladin stood jaw dropped, staring at the evil Sorcerer’s rod lying on the ground.
They started to follow after the hero, who had continued into camp
“For I knew that I alone stood a chance, and I could not allow further harm to the people of this land!” If anything he only seemed to have gotten louder.
The Halfling Thief shared a glance with the Orc Bard.
“And I took heart, for I knew what had to happen, and I took my steel in hand as I saw every step before my foot landed!”
It looked like no one would figure out what had actually happened anytime soon.
| 2021-08-20T10:48:01 | 2021-08-20T10:19:37 | 107 | 74 |
[WP] write the best story you can in 5 sentences or less
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I held a parent in my arms as I blinked at the world.
I held a schoolbag in my arms as I laughed at the world.
I held a laptop in my arms as I lived in the world.
I held a woman in my arms as I loved in the world.
I held a parent in my arms as she left the world.
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The quiet boy looked up at the worried man. They stood facing a world of questions and uncertainty, where they would only have each other to survive. The man drew a deep breath and took stock of the situation before stepping forward to lead the way. There was no turning back now. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
| 2015-08-09T12:37:06 | 2015-08-09T10:49:30 | 36 | 14 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence is 20 words, the second is 19, and so on until the story ends with one word.
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Somebody once told me the world was going to roll me, I am not the sharpest tool in the shed.
She was looking kinda dumb today, as her finger and her thumb were forming an "L" on her forehead.
Well, the years start coming and don't stop, fed to the rules and I hit the ground running.
Didn't make sense not to live for fun, your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb.
So much to do, so much to see, so what is wrong with taking the backstreets?
You will never know if you don't go, you'll never shine if you don't glow.
Hey now, you are surely an all-star, get your game on and go play!
Hey now, you are a rock star, get the show on, get paid!
All that glitters is gold, and only shooting stars break the mold.
It is a cool place, and they say it gets colder.
If you're bundled up now, wait until you get older!
But the meteorologists disagree, based on the ozone layer.
The ice we skate, is getting pretty thin.
It's melting though, so just go swimming.
My world's burning, how about yours?
That's the way I like it.
I never get bored.
Shrek is love.
Shrek's life.
Yeet.
(Edit: hyphenated words count as one)
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I’ve been asked to write a short story which permits me to use exactly twenty words in the first sentence.
After that one, follows a sentence which has only nineteen words are permitted to be used within the sentence.
The next sentence is allowed to have one less word, that means this sentence has eighteen words within.
That absurdity is followed by a sentence which has not more than seventeen words and not less.
Each sentence loses a word which means that this one can only have sixteen words within.
I’m tired of counting the words down, but it’s odd to leave the count out.
Oh well, fourteen left and this is becoming more challenging, but I will advance.
Down to thirteen I go, all for a silly writing prompt on reddit.
This doesn’t seem like a story and I’m already down to twelve.
Eleven and I have wasted another two lines rambling to myself.
Ten words in this line, and yet I’ve said nothing.
Silly Skaliton, you waste another with so few left.
Just eight words to write an entire story?
So much waste, why not the rest?
Throw line six into the trash.
Why not another as well?
Why did I start this?
How bored am I?
You really care?
Bored enough.
Goodbye.
| 2019-02-19T12:03:45 | 2019-02-19T11:14:00 | 40 | 19 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy
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"Ah Stacy, have you got the projections from Pensworth Logistics?" I call out to my secretary looking stunning as always in her uniform. She's been with me from the beginning since I transferred over to my new office, 10 months ago, and has been one of the more friendly employees here.
"Mr Miles, I must insist that you take your medication, it will help you get on with today." she hands over a glass of water and points to the small case of pills scattered in between the paperwork in my work area.
"Yes yes I understand. Oh and could you pick up a gift for my daughter? She turns 9 today and I've got little knowledge regarding their interests." I adjust the cushioning below me to get more comfortable but after many months of my weight being pressed into it was far too late to do any good.
"Of course Mr Miles, will that be all?" Stacy asked me with a gentle smile. I can tell when she wants to leave, a lot of the staff are always intimidated by myself. I reply with a nod to release her.
She begins to walk out out when I quickly remember my biggest problem with this new room.
"Oh um Stacy please get in contact with the contractors on removing to the window in front of me. It's incredibly unsettling."
She turns her head slightly and smiles before gently closing the door behind her.
"They sure grow up fast." I say talking into my picture of Charlotte at eight months old.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Has he taking his pills yet Stacy?" Mr Travis asked me looking into the window at Mr Miles, holding two cups of water
"He's agreed too take it which is good sign. He asked me to get a present for his daughter's birthday" I replied back to him and joined him in looking at Mr Miles through it. He offers me one of the cups.
"I'm surprised he remembered with all of his *meetings* and *networking* he does, I would've hoped that he would've stopped being such a *workaholic* since arriving here."
"I have to admit though..." I finish the cup in two giant gulps. "He is the most professional patient I've ever seen at our asylum."
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"Daddy!" I hear my little girl giggle from upstairs. "Daddy look what I done!". She's my world - my beautiful girl of 6. Me and my wife adopted her as we couldn't have children of our own, but she might as well be our biological child; we're a very close family.
"In a minute, Anna!" I yell - "Show your mother and I'll be up once these cookies are finished!".
"Ooh cookies!" I hear her chime excitedly. "Are they the chocolate chip ones?"
"You'll see in a minute." I tell her, smiling to myself. It's the little things in life that really make me happy; uneventful days like these with the people I love the most. I plate up the cookies and leave them on the counter to cool, then begin to trudge upstairs to see Anna's creation - it's probably just a drawing again; Anna loves art, I tell her she can be an artist one day, but in all reality her drawings are average scribbles produced by a 6 year old and some crayons.
An unusual sickly scent fills the landing, and, as I make my way to Anna's room, I find a small doll on the floor leering at me. It has black hair and lifeless green eyes that unnerve me - I don't remember buying Anna this doll. I make my way into Anna's room and, to my horror, Anna gazes at me with the same lifeless green eyes and terrifying grin. Blood covers her small arms and new jumper my mother bought her yesterday, and my loving wife lays with her throat slit on the bed. Anna holds up a drawing painted in blood. It's a stickman, with a small figure - a doll - hysterically smiling behind him. It looks like it's holding something - a stick? No... A knife.
"Look, Daddy, I found a new way to paint. I painted you!"
| 2016-05-19T13:17:24 | 2016-05-19T13:10:57 | 39 | 16 |
[WP] At first, the aliens mocked our technological advancements. After learning it took only a few centuries to move from horse carriages to space ships, they suddenly became more friendly.
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"So what you're telling me is they already left their planet?" asked the defense commander.
"Yes"
"Where the hell have you been looking? How long ago did this happen?"
"A few months. I check on them from time to time. Last time I looked they just got around to fire."
"So you are telling me that they went from fire to planet hopping in just a few months?"
"For us it was a few months. In their solar system its been tens of thousands of years"
"On the last report you handed me, Doctor, your Ethological prediction was that they would destroy each other before they discover husbandry. Claiming the brutality of their world could never sustain life. Last year you handed me a report regarding the cold blooded of the planet, that they could pose a threat, so we shot an asteroid at them to neutralize them. What became of that?"
"It seems the cold blooded were replaced by smaller, smarter warm blooded creatures"
"Replaced how?"
"They evolve at an exponential rate. A decade ago they hadn't even left their liquid environment."
"This isn't good."
"No, sir. No it is not. There is more."
"Doctor... you're..."
"Not only have they advanced technologically, They have greatly increased their ability to kill each other. They are destroying their planet in attempts to destroy each other. It shouldn't work, but somehow it is. They are growing whilst destroying themselves at the same time. I think this is why they are exploring other planets.
If this trend continues they are going to expand and continue to destroy each other. We will be collateral damage. They wont care what is in their way. They will grow and destroy, and grow and destroy until they consume everything. At this moment, we cant stop them if we tried. They do not understand peace. Even if we bring them gifts, they will kill us before we get a chance to speak to them. There is no way to stop them."
"I'm assigning more workers to your task force, you must keep me informed on this threat"
"Sir, I..."
"What is it doctor?"
"I know how long it will take to get your request through our bureaucratic system. Even by the time this conversation is over, I don't know where they will be"
"So what is your suggestion, Doctor?"
"Run."
​
​
First time in a long time posting something in this sub, hope you readers enjoy!
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Bjork stood straighter as I walked past, the alien engineer of the small ship I had put my computer programming talents to work on for the past 7 years. Even with all those years on the ship under my belt, I was still the newbie, and up until today, I had been definitely treated like one, especially from Bjork. The ship, whose true name I could never hope to really pronounce, was really just a ragtag group of different aliens, all of them vastly different from one another. I raise a curious eyebrow, pausing to glance over at Bjork and his strange actions. He was acting almost like I was the captain, instead of the one that programmed the space missiles for the ship's offense.
"Bjork, what the hell are you doing? I mean, don't get me wrong, I like the respect, but what's it coming from?" I ask, curiously. Bjork flinched as I spoke, then cleared his two throats, each mouth speaking every other word.
"Ahem... we learned of the history of your species, while you were working yesterday. How you humans went from using beasts of burden with primitive carts with no electricity or fuel, to roaming the stars after a few centuries."
I scoff, shaking my head. "And? Is that abnormal, or something? I mean, it took forever for TV's to get remotes to change the channels without getting up, too."
Bjork shook his head, quickly. "Gods forgive me, no! It took my people a solid two millenia before we formed our first spaceworthy vessels! Why, this ship is from the Indevidians, and it's only twenty years old, and it's vastly inferior to the human ships of it's time. After doing some digging, I found that the transport vehicle you left your planet on is almost literally light-years ahead of anything the rest of the known universe has."
I let out a loud laugh, smiling and clapping Bjork on his shoulder. "You could have just said you learned humans were smarter than everyone else, buddy! Now come on, I wanna see if i can make the captain as uncomfortable around me as you were. Wanna watch?"
Bjork's two mouths curled into a small smile, and he nodded, falling into step behind me as I headed to the ship's deck. It was about time they started to accept me.
| 2020-07-07T09:07:29 | 2020-07-07T08:17:11 | 43 | 25 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10.
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I've seen the numbers since I was a little girl. I remember my father losing his job, rising from a 4 to a 5. I remember watching my grandmother slowly dwindle down to a 0. At first I thought I was going crazy, not realizing what they meant. I eventually caught on. The numbers were a person's ultimate quantifier, broadcasting how dangerous they were to those around them. Broadcasting, at least, to me.
Most people stayed below a 6. Doctors usually hovered around 7; politicians were a solid 8. The highest I had ever seen were in old videos of Hitler, who was a 9. That is, until Junior year, when I met him.
He seemed harmless enough at first. Perfect hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jawline to die for. Not to mention that everybody loved him. But the bold '10' that hovered above his head was plenty enough to convince me not to go near him. Sure, I watched him. Some might even say I was obsessed. But all I was doing was making sure he wasn't a psychopath. I started skipping class to check on him. My grades dropped an entire letter. I didn't care, though. I wanted to see what made him so special.
I nearly threw up when he saw me in the cafeteria, and I really did when he got up to talk to me. He didn't seem to notice, and asked me if he could sit with me.
"Sure, I- I guess." I stammered. A smile spread across his face, and we struck up a conversation. My heart was playing a drum solo into my chest, but I managed to live to the end of the break. Hell, he even asked for my number, which I promptly gave. We had lunch that weekend.
It's only now, ten years later, that I realize what makes this boy so special. Only now that I find out why he's such a danger to me. Only now, as he drops to one knee.
It's because I love him.
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This is my first post to WP, so I hope anyone who reads this likes it!
Ever since I was born, I’d see numbers in my brain. From the instant I saw a living face I’d see a number. I learned pretty quickly it was danger: my dog was a 1 (too stupid to hurt anyone even if he tried, bless him), and the highest number I ever saw was a man in Hawaii, a seven. I figured out why after he robbed an old woman and ran away, knocking someone over, on his bicycle.
American Lit was boring that day, but that was going to change. I saw someone new walking down the hall and going into the next classroom. He looked at me for a second with a glare of callous determination, and above him I saw a blood-red 10, menacing and ominous. He quickly broke his stare, but I didn’t, watching him for the rest of the class. When I left, I followed him down the halls into an unused classroom. I was wondering if he was going to poison someone or plant a bomb or something like that, so I tried to catch a glimpse. He was nowhere to be seen in the room. I tentatively walked in, anxious as to what I was going to find.
I have regrets, just like everyone. I wish I didn’t have the ability I have; I wish I could have seen my grandfather before he died; I wish I didn’t blow off as much stuff as I did. But the biggest regret I ever had was that I never got to say goodbye to my family, and that the last thing I saw before I died was the same amoral determination that had so scared me before. As I faded into oblivion, choking on the blood in my throat as his knife stabbed me over and over, the last thing my eyes would ever witness was his terrible eyes, black as death, as he slowly widened his horrifyingly blank countenance into an evil grin. The last thing I ever heard was a cruel and harsh voice mutter, “One down.”
| 2014-11-29T14:43:43 | 2014-11-29T14:18:16 | 295 | 12 |
[WP] You are an immortal searching the ends of the earth. Not for "a cure for your curse", but for a chef talented enough to make a 1,000 year old recipe like mom used to make.
|
I had traveled many places within the last few decades searching for someone, anyone, that could make my mother's Gourmet Apple Pie but not one person could come close. I had famous chefs ranging from Julia Child to Anthony Bourdain to even Chef John try their hand at it, but there was just one thing missing that always made it taste different.
Bobby Flay's try was too bland, Guy Fieri's was too spicy, and Rachel Ray didn't even come close. Gordon Ramsay was probably one of the closest tries, but I felt that the crust was a little raw at the bottom.
Then one day a miracle happened. I was in the grocery store checking out and something caught my eye - a magazine with a picture of an apple pie on the cover. The apple pie was visually identical to the memory of my mother's, down to the golden color of the crust and the design on the crust. I quickly snatched the magazine and rushed home to read the recipe and find what chef could have possibly pulled this off, I needed to contact them immediately!
As I open the door to my apartment, I quickly throw off my jacket and grab the magazine from the grocery bag. I throw it down on the table, grab a chair and flip through the pages til I see the pie, memories filling my head of the sweet smell wafting through the cabin I lived in with my mother many years ago.
I look down at the page and read the first line, "This recipe is brought to you by Claire Saffitz from the Bon Appetit Test Kitchen..."
|
"Been on the road long?"
"Something like that." The Man replied. "Been far from home... for too long."
The woman took the note from him. "Whats this?"
"I know it's an odd request but... remind me of home."
"Well, i'll admit it is odd but... why not?"
\----
Living Forever wasn't the curse. the fact everything else couldn't was the worst. The hardest part is how everything else fades... it makes it valuable in a way. He treasured everyone he ever met, each and very person was unique, never to be seen again after passing away. He was the only one who ever lived this long... he didn't know why, but he did know that no one else was the exception.
not even her.
The Woman returned with the meal sometime later, setting it infront of the man.
He ate it silently. Testing it with his mouth.
Eventually, he finished the meal and stood up, paying.
"How was it."
"Not quite the same..." he replied, shaking his head. "But... I enjoyed it."
"Can I get you anything else?
"No, but thank you... I'll have to get going soon."
"Safe travels then."
The man left soon after. The Woman wouldn't make note of the man again... but he stuck with her. Still, the usual Dinner rush would be coming soon. And while the encounter would stay with her, other concerns quickly made it less of a priority.
| 2019-11-07T13:37:31 | 2019-11-07T09:46:47 | 71 | 11 |
[WP] Some years ago it was discovered that love is a measurable quantity. Many countries have since deemed it mandatory for couples to prove their love prior to marriage. A couple who are together only to qualify for asylum wait to be audited, and desperately try to fall in love.
|
"I don't love you."
"I don't love you too," she replies, drawing a heart on my arm using the burnt ashes of a match she just blew out.
Her dark eyes reflect in the flaming candle between us.
"We have to, though."
"I know."
We're quiet for a moment. This is the most desperate time in our lives and we can't get a word out of one another.
"You know," she begins, "They say if you stare at someone for four minutes straight, it makes you fall in love with them."
"Bullshit."
"Yeah, all those poor people I got into staring contests with," she snorts. Looking at each other, we both go quiet again.
"I think it's working."
"Really?"
"No. How much longer do we have?"
"Two minutes, twenty one seconds."
"Eighteen."
"Fourteen."
We both sigh and check our watches.
"They'll be in here in half an hour," she whispers, "There's no way we'll make it in time."
"We *have* to," I insist, "Unless you want to be on your deathbed and you want me to lose my house."
"Damn, marriage does have some benefits," she admits, "It'd be easier if they'd just give me my meds. All these machines would make you think that they could get a diagnosis right."
I chuckle. Can we fool a machine? It can't be harder than a polygraph.
"Kiss me."
"What?"
"I said, kiss me."
We kiss.
"I don't feel anything."
"Neither do I."
"I don't love you."
"I don't love you too."
The candle wavers between us. The mood lighting was her idea. She says it'll be harder for the machine to read our pupils if we're sensitive to all light. Maybe our nerves will take care of the high-heart rates.
I feel a hand in mine. Suddenly I feel safer, I can't say exactly why.
We're kissing again. It gives me a strange feeling; I must be anxious for the testing.
"I don't love you."
"I don't love you too."
Her hair is soft.
Her eyes glitter in the candlelight.
I'm afraid.
"I... don't love you."
"...I don't love you too."
I think.
They walk in.
The machine reads us.
*I love you.*
*I love you too.*
They leave.
"I don't love you."
"I don't love you too."
We both smile.
|
"Well, what hobbies do you have, Mike?"
"I don't know."
"How can you not know what your hobbies are."
"I don't know, I've never thought of it before."
"Think of a hobby you have and tell me what it is. It's that simple."
"You know the scene in Ghostbusters where Peter Venkman is testing the two students for paranormal abilities?"
"That's not a hobby, Mike."
"How is that not a hobby?"
"Do you even know what a hobby is? Seriously. Explain to me what a hobby is."
"A hobby is a thing. Also known as a cool scene in Ghostbusters."
"This is ridiculous."
"Don't ask me to name a hobby if you're not going to be receptive, Karen."
"You can't have a fucking movie scene as a hobby, you idiot."
"Don't call me an idiot. I know a lot of people who love that scene as a hobby."
"No you don't. That's simply not true because you can't have movie scenes as hobbies."
"Well what hobbies do you have then?"
"I like watching make-up videos on YouTube."
"Fuck off."
"What?"
"How is a scene from Ghostbusters less of a hobby than watching videos of women explaining make-up?"
"Because I have various people I watch on a weekly basis. And make-up is intrinsic."
"Are clowns intrinsic?"
"What does that mean?"
"Clowns wear make-up."
"Clowns have probably watched Ghostbusters, Mike."
"How fucking dare you."
The PA rattled and a voice emitted. *'Ticket 73, please advance to the auditing room.'*
"What number are we?" asked Mike, checking his pocket for the ticket.
"You have the ticket."
"I don't have the fucking .. oh shit we're 73."
"We're screwed."
"Just follow my lead, Karen."
"Follow your lead?"
"Yeah, follow my lead."
"This isn't a fucking waltz, Mike. Do you even have anything planned?"
"Oh, nothing at all. I just didn't know what to say and I'm having one of those internal panic attack things."
"An internal panic attack?"
"It's the kind were everything on the outside looks super fine but on the inside your organs are failing."
"Promise me you won't mention or try to explain internal panic attacks in the auditing room."
"I cannot make that promise."
****
I'll carry this on in to the actual auditing room if anyone fancies it.
In case you don't want to hear more of this story but would like to read even worse passages of prose, visit my subreddit at www.reddit.com/r/billmurraymovies.
I guarantee it will potentially ruin your day.
| 2017-02-21T15:23:23 | 2017-02-21T12:41:35 | 47 | 10 |
[WP] Write an over-the-top background story for an early video game that didn't have a narritive. Ex. Pong, Asteriods, Pacman
|
What has my life come to? Once upon a time I had had a home, a wife, a career. Now look at me, I've hit rock bottom, backstabbing, deceitful and shady.
Running the streets all night, addicted to pills, haunted by the ghosts of my past. Always looking for my next score, never resting. I try to fight my way out of this life, but every time I think I've found a way out I just end up on the other side of town. It's like I belong to the city, I belong to the night; living in a river of darkness under the neon lights.
Sometimes my demons catch me, sometimes I score big and beat them instead. Sometimes the streets are just empty lanes in a cold maze, and I just gotta pop one more pill to move on to the next nightmare, but I can't get there no matter how hard I run, every lane full of danger. My heartbeat shows the fear; ghosts appear and fade away.
If only I could eat better, get more fruit in my diet, maybe I could eat so much I could crash this place. Cherries, bananas, anything you got. Player 1, you're my only hope--get me off this boulevard of broken dreams!
/Credit to Eminem, Glenn Frey, Colin Hay, and Green Day (last line of each paragraph, respectively) for helping me overdramatize it.
|
"This is it, you all know me so I'll keep this brief. We have all suffered greatly, so many lives lost. I tell you it ends today. I have watched you, guided you through your training. It has been tough but here we stand. United against our enemy. We have been pushed back into the depths of space time and time again, but not today. They call us invaders, but we will reclaim our homeland. Our brightest minds have formulated a new strategy which will not fail. Today we will be victorious!"
With that a shout rose from the assembled pilots as they ran towards there ships. The General sighed, it pained him to watch such promising lives been thrown away. He watched as engines roared to life. It really was a beautiful sight. His squadron soared into the air. He took a final look at the strategy and climbed aboard the mother ship. This time would be different.
Fires burnt all across the mothership as the general looked out at the decimated remains of his squadron. How could this have happened? the plan was full proof. He watched as the anti air defenses honed in on his position. They launched a salvo straight through their own shields. He looked down at the battle plan the words scrawled across the page. Increase speed, move left to right. It should have worked.
| 2016-02-19T07:03:56 | 2016-02-19T05:31:22 | 54 | 15 |
[WP] You are a villain, but the goals you fight for are not evil. In fact they are quite popular, it is just that your methods are so extreme and out of proportion that even the most die-hard supporter of your goals think you go too far.
|
"Mwhahha!!" I laughed...I was quite proud of my Evil Villain laugh, it was worth every penny of the vocal lessons, "Cower foolish mortals, for I, **I** Vertrix, Arcane-Mistress of the Dark Arts, am your Overlord now! Even now my legions roam your puny city with impunity, your feeble authorities crushed beneath the heel of my Death Knights... You *Will* bow to my demands, for resistance is futile..."
One of my minions tugged at my sleeve, just below the level of the broadcast crystal that was projecting my image towering over the snivling city.
"Yes, what is it Otto?!"
I leaned down, as the little goblin whispered in my ear.
"What?! You're kidding! how could... wait, no.. never mind. We'll manage. Ahem yes.. where was I? Oh yess.. Demands. Ok.. well apparently we're out of thin mints, but you **will** buy any of the other Girl Scout Cookies my legions are going door to door selling, or else!"
|
Piles of corpses smattered the football field. Burning rubble accented university buildings, now dashed in a bright cherry red that would surely melt to brick if it is not cleaned sooner.
The cafeteria was obliterated. The students actively feasting on their burgers and their chickens and their fish tacos lay smashed under the weight of a tantruming giant.
And yet that was not enough. I of course planted bombs in all of the surrounding meat factories or plants dedicated to the processing of animal products.
By the time I finished, nearly the full city lay waste (I don’t use small bombs, kind of wasteful).
“Man, even for a vegan, this seems a little extreme..” My sidekick said to me as we watched explosions on the horizon.
I looked at him with a grim expression. “It is what we must do. We are saving the world.”
I hefted my pipe bombs, on my way to blow up a free range chicken farm.
| 2022-09-23T09:26:59 | 2022-09-23T07:20:06 | 56 | 30 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often.
|
"Jesus *FUCK*!" If I could gag, I would. A dead body, torn and ribboned like a frayed cloth doll dipped in scarlet lay discarded in a cheap motel room.
A woman steps out of a shower, her hair up in a towel and no other apparent form of modesty, save for the steam that rises from her skin. I, out of a shame that she didn't seeming have herself, didn't look, not that I had to- I knew who she was.
And by God, what an utter hatter she is. This one included, she's killed 32 people, each one getting more and more... exotic. Now, I have tried- I did- I tried to be the tall, scary, stoic Death that people tend to think of, but this is just horrific. Genuinely, as a man (or... whatever) who roams the fields of war and stalks the hospital wards, I have never seen such *undoing* done with such attention to detail.
"Do.. You like It? I worked Very Hard to Make this Special for Us." She said. She came around me, gently gliding her finger across my black robe, pushing in slightly to feel the contours of my bones.
"Wha- If I may be *so bold* as to ask, WHY?"
"Well, I just Wanted to See You again." She said, just barely above a whisper.
"This is too far. You know you're going to Hell for this?"
"I was going to hell anyways. But I don't have to go just yet. We can just stay here... for tonight." I try to reply but she cuts me off before I can. "Every time I see you, you only show up for a second and wander off with some poor soul!"
"Yeah, because you killed them! Because that's my job!"
She gives me a pout and pulls herself closer to me.
"Well, can't you take a break from your job for once?" She protests. "I thought Love was supposed to be able to conquer Death! For one night, can't it just be you and me?"
I look down at her for the first time tonight and shake my head.
"Why do you think I'm here to begin with?" As I point to her body, torn and ribboned on the bed.
|
"Sally, we really need to talk about our relationship."
Me and my girlfriend were standing in the middle of a bloody crime scene. She just murdered a old ww2 veteran in his home by poisoning his tea.
I have to admit, she was getting better and better with the killings. The poison she used would soon dissolve in the blood of the victim and the tea, making his death look like a normal cardiac arrest. Something normal for a 90 year old.
Her first kill was really clumsy. She ambushed a middle aged office worker in his apartment. The struggle which ensued took several minutes, alamred the neighbours and left a mountain of evidence. She barely escaped.
It was like watching a toddler making his first steps.
But at that day when we first saw each other, we knew we were destined to be together. So I helped cover her trails and showed taught her the skills of a master assassin I reaped years ago.
And now we were standing here, while I held her in my arms.
"What about it?"
"Darling, I love you and I really wish to spend more time with you. But the killings are getting a little bit overboard. I mean, this guy didnt deserved to die, neither did his time actually come. With this you are creating more unnecessary work for me."
"But thats the only way I can see you. You are always working and have close to zero free time."
She was right.
Many people think that the Grim Reaper is a single person, living since the begin of time. In reality we are a line of different persons. Each one of us was chosen by special criterias. And once we took the job we would work almost non stop for decades till we retired with the riches we "confiscated" from people who didnt need it anymore.
I was stroking trough her long blonde hair when I had an idea.
"Sally, how about you only kill those guys who are creating more unnecessary work for me?"
"You mean bad girls like me?"
"Exactly, serial killers, hitmen, mob bosses and their members. The scum of society nobody really needs. With this I could actually spend more time with you."
She smiled.
"Sounds good, but I will have to travel alot for this my sweet Reaper."
"Dont worry, I got this covered. Just see it as a opportunity to travel around the world with me."
| 2017-09-28T15:20:16 | 2017-06-07T18:59:16 | 153 | 80 |
[WP] Every human has a 'luck rating' - a number from 1-100 that defines how lucky they can be. Born with a rating of 100, you're confined in a maximum security prison. You think your luck should get you out easily - that is, until you see that all the other inmates also have luck ratings of 100.
|
They told me I was lucky. My whole life they said that the stat assessment showed I was one of the luckiest people alive with a score of 100. I swore it wasn’t true. If I had been lucky, why was I born to a poor family? I never got to play games of chance, since those were forbidden to luck score 100s.
Then the revolution happened. The leaders swore they would prove that people controlled their own destiny, that luck had nothing to do with success, and, as proof, they would throw the 100s in prison as an ultimate sign of human triumph over the odds. Having a lower rating began to be a mark of pride, an inspiration.
Some of us tried to run and hide. That’s what I did. I managed to hide a while, too. It was, ironically, just bad luck that they caught me. The guy whose identity I was using’s brother happened to be a member of the Luck Police, and he was visiting relatives across the country the day he caught sight of my fake name on the ID I gave the clerk at a convenience store.
I couldn’t have lasted much longer, anyway. They had just created the AR rig that let you see people’s stats just by looking at them. None of our underground community knew how to fool it. It updated in real time.
So, off to prison I went. With all of the other “lucky” ones. That’s when I met Eddie. Most of us, at this point, had our ideas about the system. Most of us thought it was complete bullshit, created so that the people in control could make an enemy to unite people around. Eddie, though, he had a different idea. He swore that it was real. He said he had been a scientist and had helped develop the measurement system, and swears they had gotten it right, but it was hard to argue with the evidence. All the luckiest people wind up in prison, so how are we lucky again? Even locked up as one of us Eddie swore it was true. Even talked about how coming across the measurement at all was a lucky break. He had been studying DNA for a marker for gambling addiction, when he found the luck gene.
Eddie was right. I still remember hearing the whispers. Carl was a 96 now. The AR rig swore it. I was with Eddie when we saw Carl, and through the rig, we could see it too. Right beside him: Luck - 96. It was an odd color, though. It was green, not white like normal. I asked Eddie about it. He frowned. “We had theorized that there were things that could give a temporary boost or penalty. Luck clovers, breaking mirrors, and things. I guess the research on those is complete, and they programmed them into the rig?”
I looked at Carl and there, behind his ear, I saw it. A four leaf clover. But those were supposed to be... I saw the look of horror on Eddie’s eyes as he did the same calculations I was doing. The green luck boost. It moved his score down. Eddie shook his head and stared at his feet. “The sons of bitches. They got it backwards. It’s like a golf score. Lower is better. We are stuck in here because we are the most unlucky bastards on the planet.”
|
I was *born* with max luck, being told my whole life that I shouldn’t be, that I was *favored*. Nope, I was locked up and the key thrown away. I had spent my life, from age thirteen onwards here. My Luck was my weapon, but I wasn’t sure how. I *should have* been able to get out of here, press my own Luck to its maximum and escape. I was only allowed to talk to my guards, who were, to be honest, all very nice and fairly handsome, but hovering around fifty.
Gradually, I found out that we, the prisoners that is, are all ninety and higher, seriously. We’re all treated like pariahs for something outside of our control and then isolated. I was one of the “lucky” ones, the guards liked me and treated me like a younger brother, all except Chuck, but he was taken away. I liked him the best. I was nineteen when Chuck was taken away. He waited and didn’t touch me until I was eighteen and then one day, he had vanished. It broke my heart. Kyle told me what had happened, a relationship with a Lucky could increase Luck over time. I had done it to both of us, apparently, he was pushed to one hundred, like the maximum security ward. *I had gotten Chuck locked up.*
My resolve hardened. I would have him back. Chuck was *mine*. I became quiet, acting broken. I wasn’t. I started doing research. If I increased my Luck beyond one hundred, I would *transform*, becoming my true self, probably either an angel or demon. I couldn’t wait. I would have Chuck back.
I did more research, I had devoured what little I could, then began bribing the guards to bring me more. I did things I shouldn’t have been proud of, but my body was a small price to pray to have Chuck indefinitely, for our eternity. I discovered more, like the lineage of Lucifer, how he had six (SIX?!) sisters; two sets of triplets. Destiny, Fortuna, and *Luck*; the other sisters, while interesting, weren’t relevant to me or my search (Rose, Daisy, and Lily). I started gathering myself and my materials I would need, incense, flowers, dice, cards, sundry items that soon filled my cell.
I laughed and started that night. It was a full moon, a hot day in summer, our air conditioning broke down; sweat dripped down my face as I completed the ritual with a slice of my own flesh, blood splattering the flowers, the petals scattering in a sudden wind. “A second?” my own mother stood in my cell. “Oh Liam,” she said as I rushed to her, enveloping her soft body in a hug. “What did they do to you?”
“I am too *Lucky*, I was locked up and my Fated stolen from me,” I tried to be strong, but tears poured out of my eyes as the story poured out of my mouth. “Mother, I beseech you, please help me.”
And she did.
| 2018-06-29T12:50:06 | 2018-06-29T10:57:06 | 41 | 12 |
[WP] An invasive alien species is taking over the planet. They are human. You are not.
|
First came the Screamers.
The howled down to the surface, fired from the ships in low orbit, crashing in urban areas. Command wrote it off as a small scale bombardment, primitive kinetic weapons dropped into civilian areas seemingly at random and did very little damage, “inferior terror tactics” they told the population.
It was much, much worse.
Those where not shells dropping, they were soldiers – highly mobile Shock Troopers in mechanised suits that swiftly began to attack key infrastructure points and anti-orbital defenses. Projectile weapons with high explosive payloads, they leveled power plants, power conduits, shield generators and any military installation they could hit.
By the time command realised what was happening, the drop ships had begun to land.
I knew they would slaughter everyone, the young, the females, down to the last.
We fought, we have always fought, for we are The People, the supreme predator in the universe. We annihilated the lesser beings on our world and cleansed dozens of others, the weak are meat and the strong do eat - I remember when we found these ones, oh the joy we felt at having another adversary to crush and new flesh to devour. We wiped them off their world and the small moon they occupied, annihilating what little resistance they put up and purging the world as is our right.
How where we to know it was merely a small colony? That we had provoked the wrath of a much larger, much older civilization than our own.
When they came for me, I was engaged… such a small, pathetic creature - this was to be our downfall? I knew if I was fast I could crush it and devour it like the prey it was.
I attacked.
***
*The xeno charged without warning and the Lieutenant reacted, planting a fist square in its face. Despite its size and bulk it went down like a sack of shit, face caved in like a bloody cake of hair and brain.*
*“Jesus LT, I think you killed it!” one of the squad mates laughed. They had orders not to harm the civs, but the dumb beasts just kept trying to fight them.*
*The Lieutenant looked down on the creature, bleeding it’s last out on the ground.*
*“They glassed New Cairo into dust. Fuck ‘em.”*
|
The swirling tendrils which held us in place, which kept us alive with the nutrients brought in by our kin for countless generations would also be our downfall. Our species had dominated our planet for eons, trampling each of the weaker lifeforms which rose with us into the barren sand through dominance of battle. Our armour had evolved to be thicker than them and we knew, we had always been stronger. Digging into the earth had been our first leap forward, leaving the heat behind and allowing ourselves to grow in numbers.
We could feel the footsteps, the trampling of each seperate foot shifting the sand above us. These creatures had a scent we could not find. **New**. We might never know their faces under the dirt as no others had ever came back.
New had scared the others away, they dug deeper, sacrificed their old and themselves in the process. They would not survive the endless drought, not without the knowledge of their elders guiding them. Fear was the first sign of weakness, not that they could understand fear, only fear it. We did not fear, none which understand our place would.
How could they stand the *heat?* These imposers against our will, how could they stand on the surface? They must have armour greater than any foe we had met before.
Another *tremble*, our worst fears coming true. Had they found us? Unlikely, we had been here so long we could feel great distances, our roots ran deep, and they were still far away. We could run, as the others. Tear ourselves from this tomb and dig ourselves deeper. It will mean our death, but we could plant the seeds for our children...only for them to die in the dark.
It was clear what must happen.
Our life was old, older than the others, so we could seperate ourselves with ease, the tendrils fell away into the darkness around us. This chamber, our home, everything we had built wouldn't matter if we gave up.
The freedom was liberating, the change in perspective, I noticed it almost immediately. There was no time to wait. To the surface.
| 2014-05-15T17:46:16 | 2014-05-15T17:46:03 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] Your friends have all decided to summon a demon, while you are terrified of the supernatural and urge them not to. It's too late and when they finish the chant, you get teleported from behind them to facing them, inside the pentagram.
|
I was shaking in my boots. The old, decrepit house creaked and groaned as my friends laid out the candles and painted cow blood onto the floor.
"Guysss... I don't like this," I said.
"Yeah, yeah, we heard you the first time, but it'll be fun!" Jeremy said.
"Don't be a baby, Roger," Tammy said.
I swallowed and nodded, and the others began chanting. As the candles began flickering and a breeze picked up within the old house, I covered my eyes. The wind and lights got more intense by the second, until suddenly it all went quiet.
"What? Aw man, what a rip!" Jeremy said.
I carefully removed my hands from my face, and saw my friends now facing me. Looking around, I realized that I had moved about six feet and was now standing in the middle of the circle.
"What? What happened?" I asked.
"I thought this was supposed to summon the nearest demon, but..." Tammy said.
"Guys, what if Roger is a demon? I mean, he does have those massive mandibles and a six foot long, prehensile tail..." Timmy said.
"Yeah, we probably should've been a little more careful with which spell we picked... Let's see, this one looks like we could still do it with the stuff we have, but it only summons fire..." Tammy said.
"I want to go home," I said.
"Fine then, go you big chicken. You'll probably mess up the next spell anyway," Jeremy said.
I didn't like being called a chicken, but I wasn't about to stay any longer. Unfortunately, they ended up accidentally summoning me three more times that night, but I did eventually manage to get home.
|
The lights went dim again. Sound crackled inside my head, like static behind my eyes. Below me, the neat chalk of the pentagram had been blown in every direction from the force of....my?...feet hitting the ground inside it. My feet. No. They all started muttering, laughing nervously.
" Good trick, now move " one of them chuckled.
I can't. I'm locked in place. I never wanted to play this. But now....wait..I think I'm...curious..? Fear chills me, but something in me urges me to keep playing. As soon as I make the decision to keep going, I can move again. This is what fear does though right? Just fear..that's what this is. I'm just panicking.
The chant starts again. Everyone's making stupid hand movements and messing around, playing along with the jokey summoning, like the game we all thought it was. That was, until, the floorboard split beneath me. And then the static in my mind starts again, faintly, growing, until it roared. Then darkness.
​
​
​
Her eyes slowly lifted open, yet still, she looked to the ground. Her body stood stone still, in the centre of that pentagram. Her head lifted slowly, almost..mechanically...until she looked straight at us, her eyes dark.
"She's gone" said the voice, it's soulless eyes creasing. But..that's not...That's not my best friend's voice..
"She's gone"
| 2020-01-11T10:55:16 | 2020-01-11T10:17:44 | 24 | 14 |
[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.
|
Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321
|
I’m not really sure if I should be doing this, or if I even miss you right now, but some how you always find your way into my mind. I can’t believe I promised you I could be strong that day because I felt so weak knowing I couldn’t have your presence in my life anymore, but I think I have gotten “stronger” since then. Sounds dumb but I tried to find someone like you after it was all said and done, but I realized that I don’t need to be more than myself to be happy. Hope you’re not thinking of me and hope you’re enjoying your life. I’m still thankful for everything you taught me beautiful.
| 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-06T00:23:50 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though.
|
6/4/17
Dear Journal,
My acceptance letter came today. I finally got into University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign after 3 years of hard work. The classes weren’t too bad but the SAT prep, extracurricular activities, and my family have kept me very busy.
Dad’s involvement in politics keeps him busy. He’s always rushing away to Europe, Russia, the Middle East, and God know where else. I joke with him and call him Jason Bourne. He laughs but I have a gut feeling that Bourne might just be a Hollywoodizing of his life.
Mom has been helping me with my martial arts and self-defense training. It’s sometimes scary how good she is with knives and her in depth knowledge of incapacitating someone.
Darrel got called out of class today to help with some “emergency” at the NSA. His life always revolves around computers. Of course, he is going to MIT this fall. Only 2 years before he is supposed to graduate.
I had to stop by the cleaners on the way home to pick up Glavine’s robes. She’s already graduated so I don’t know how she gets so much use out of it. I always accuse her of running off to her “secret” meetings with all of dads’ friends in high places but she says that they aren’t invited.
--Mom yells up the stairs— “Theodore. Dinners ready.”
My family leads a pretty busy life which is why I just want to do something boring. I just want to be an accountant.
|
The Russian Mafia does not forget. At least, where my family, the Yashilys, is concerned. Father was the leader of our section, here in St. Petersburg, or as Father's former boss had still called it, Leningrad. Father was, despite a family man, a ruthless manipulative bastard. The resources he held can change the world to how he sees fit. A utopia....or a wasteland.
Little brother Antonin, 20 years old, was Father's favorite child. He was our resident computer expert, being able to steal money from banks with ease and even disrupt crucial computer applications with one little program. His greatest achievement was influencing the US Presidential elections. That could not have gone any better.
Mother was Father's mentally unstable wife. When they first met, back when Russia was still the USSR, Mother fell instantly in love with Father, so much so that any female who approached Father risked getting killed. Mother was so efficient with her killing that it impressed Father. So, he married her and manipulated her into becoming his personal assassin.
And at last, my little sister Sonia. She was a cold emotionless doll, perfect for the Illuminati. She is my best agent, pulling off impossible stunts that would amaze the craziest of Redditors.
Oh, did I say she is my best agent? I forgot to clarify one thing.
I am the Illuminati.
Fear me.
r/Venator77prose
| 2017-06-04T09:52:41 | 2017-06-04T08:07:58 | 32 | 12 |
[WP] You're Jigsaw and you've caught your latest victim. Unfortunately, you've greatly underestimated David Blaine.
|
"Hello David. I want to play a game," I said. The look on their face after saying this always made me smile.
"Hello Jigsaw," murmured Blaine. A lethargic look ran down his face.
I was startled.
"You trick people for a living, preying on their lack of knowledge to exploit them. You enjoy pretending to be something your not. Well now, in my game, there's no need to pretend."
He still looked oddly calm. Tough guy, huh. We'll see.
"You've undoubtedly noticed the hacksaw in your hand, and the cuff chaining your ankle to the building. Well, David, the time has come to enter my realm of magic, and see how much you really wa..."
"You see a cuff with no key and think, impossible," said David, interrupting my final sick assessment of the situation.
"Try not to be constrained by what we know as *reality*, Jigsaw-"
"How do you know my name!" I screamed.
"But try to imagine that with your mind, you can bend, and push the boundaries of the physical world," he continued without acknowledging me.
He stared intensely at the cuff, then lifted his leg away slowly, in complete control, as the cuff, still closed, fell *through* his ankle.
A look of disbelief fell upon my face, curtained by my creepy mask.
"But that's not why you're here, you know I can perform illusions, but...you want...you want to see something greater. Something *real.*"
He raised the hacksaw to the pipe and started sawing.
"Now you see the saw is clearly real, you see? It cuts, you see?" as marks formed on the pipe.
I sat still, sulking in my tricycle.
"What you want, is to see an altered reality, you see this leg? And you see this blade? You see Jigsaw? You know both to be real. This is what you really came here for."
"I drugged you and kidnapped *you,* fool!"
It didn't register, he was zoning.
"What if it's not a saw, what if that's not my leg, what if their both just atoms with 99% empty space? When you think of them like that, and *believe* they're that...You can do this."
He pushed the saw to the leg, pressing hard against his skin. I grimaced behind my mask. Yet....no blood. It was clearly halfway through his leg.
"You see, you see Jigsaw? Do you see? It is *in* my leg. No blood."
Fuck this bastard.
"The trick with magic isn't to deceive your audience, it's to make them a believer, not a skeptic.
"Fuck off you devil!" I cried.
"And now, Jigsaw, I leave you with something you can cherish, something you can believe."
"The door is really just empty space."
"Just open the fucking door and leave, don't be an asshole," I muttered.
Again he ignored me, slowly approaching the door until his nose was flush against it.
"I leave you with a memory of real magic Jigsaw, that will leave you questioning the limits of our world," muffled david, his mouth already through the thick steel door.
And with that he slowly went *through* the metal door, disappearing forever, leaving me on my tricycle, completely mad.
"Bastard."
|
My name is Jigsaw. I am the greatest puzzle master of my time, and today I will be facing David Blaine... Or is it Blayne? Blane? I don't know. That's all my producers told me.
You see, last year I was contacted by this TV company that wanted to start a show featuring the "greatest of the 21st century." Masters from their respective art come together in "epic duels" (which aren't that epic, from what I've seen) to see who is the TRUE master. There's a catch though... These duels, or challenges, have absolutely nothing to do with what the contestants thrive at. Last week it was a ballerina and a skydiver in a poker competition; the week before, our President and the Queen of England went head to head in a game of lacrosse. This week, I'll be going up against David Blain. Bulain? Maybe it was Bulain.
As I walked into the arena, massive camera lights blared into my eyes. A team of people guided me past the harsh lighting and camera crews to a "prep area." A few moments later, my eyes finally came into focus. "What the fuck...."
We were in an ice skating arena. Shit. I can't skate for shit.
They put these clunky brown boots on my feet, reminiscent of the rentals they give you at roller skating rinks. Not that I ever roller skated, mind you... I manned the "Rock and Rollers Skate Center's" concession stand throughout high school.
A few girls from the team helped me up and walked me over to the ice, but once I got to the boards, they let me go. Standing in skates alone isn't easy. Ice skating? Near impossible. "What do I think I'm doing..."
My producer appeared from behind me. "Hey J!" He was all smiles. I did not reciprocate the joy.
"What's the plan Larry?"
"Well J, today we have a special duel planned! You'll be battling David, our other contestant, in an ice skating competition!"
"Thanks Sherlock. I gathered that from the sheet of fucking ice in front of me. What the hell does David Plane do anyways."
"David? He's a magician. Not exactly a figure skating champion, so it'll be a fair playing field! That's how this show works, after all."
A magician. I could beat a parlor trick connoisseur any day.
My producer continues, "First we will show you both a video of a skating routine, and you'll be expected to replicate it as best you can. The winner will be decided by call in votes. David has already seen the video and will be going up before you. If you want to watch him before you get started, you're more than welcomed to."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a disheveled looking man step onto the ice. Swan Lake starts playing, and he shakily starts skating to the music. I almost felt bad for the guy... "This whole show is just meant to humiliate people," I thought to myself.
And then he did a triple axel.
"Who the fuck is this David Stain?!"
| 2016-11-22T19:38:18 | 2016-11-22T12:51:02 | 75 | 46 |
[WP] God forgot about Earth soon after Adam and Eve, fully expecting them to die. One of the Angels just informed him they survived, and the population is over 7 billion.
|
God:"Hey Gabe-Ral."
Gabriel:"Please stop calling me that boss. But yes, what can I do for you?"
God:"I lost track of the eternity that is time, do you have notes on the Adam and eve project? I wanted to see how long they'd last until they died. I meant to check up on them and forgot. I'll get around to perfecting the species in a few billion years maybe."
Gabriel:"Actually God... They procreated."
God:"That's actually... disturbing. I gave them that function? Must have been left in from an old design. How long did the offspring survive?"
Gabriel:"Eerm... actually 7 billion-"
God:"Oh don't pull my leg. I know it hasn't been 7 *billion* years. I haven't lost track of time that much. It was like, one power-nap. Seriously. How long did they last?"
Gabriel:"There's... 7 billion of them still alive right now... They... wrote a book about you."
God:"I... what? Is this the book? ... OH GOD AN APPLE?! A SNAKE?! Excuse me! I poked them with my finger and dropped an ORANGE on them. Man they have bad memories... but still not too bad for an imperfect species... OH MAN THIS IS GREAT. HEY LUCIFER!"
Satan:"What's up god? What's this?"
God:"You know how you chased around that one dude with a pitchfork on your tropical island beach resort on the edge of the universe while drunk a couple of millennia ago?"
Satan:"Yeah what of it?"
God:"Yeah so. They wrote a book about how you lead 'hell' - and it is the ultimate punishment and you're the incarnate of all evil! Oh man... talk about a misunderstanding. You should give this a read, this is the best comedy in ages."
Gabriel:"Actually. A large number of them use this book or a variant as a rule book. They've slaughtered countless millions in your name. "
God:"..... HA. COOL! Quick lets make another one of these, this time lets fuck with them and give them an appendix and natural evolution! Oh god this species is the best."
|
"Father, you have *got* to stop these new things from invading my house!"
The Divine Nebula twisted around to the Morningstar, and performed its grin logarithm. "Now, Son, you know I only ran these simulations out of morbid curiosity. What seems to be the problem?"
I started, watching the oncoming storm rising through the galaxy. The Morningstar sighed, a distinctly mortal thing. "Father, that simulation you ran all those years ago. The one with the two four-base beings in the Aurora machine? They're still going." The Divine Nebula sparkled, Creation wandering across its starcloud. "More importantly, Father, they are....much more populous than we expected them to get. And they're stealing my things now.
"Apparently, I'm the ruler of their dark afterlife. And you cast me down, Father, in their minds." The Morningstar sneered, his tentacled limbs moving in a horrible parody of a shrug. "Still, Ithink you had best look in, Father. I thought you should know." The Morningstar turned to leave, and the Divine halted him with a gaseous emission.
"Son, bring the Auropra simulation to me, and let us take a look."
/ / / / / / / /
I looked out tot he stars, knowing that they weren't real. It's a hoprrible...**freeing**...thought.
"I know you're out there, God!" I yelled into the storm. "**I DARE YOU, STRIKE ME DOWN IF YOU HAVE THE COURAGE!**"
/ / / / / / / /
"hMMM..." the Divine Nebula hummed. "I like him, he's sparky. Let's grant him his wish."
The Divine struck him down by way of lightning. I watched on. The Divine turned to me.
"Well, there are plenty more where that one came from, so it's okay to grant his wish. And remember - if you do it right, people will wonder if you were ever involved at all."
| 2016-03-07T05:34:29 | 2016-03-07T04:27:53 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] "This is an Emergency Alert. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not go outside after sundown. Restrict contact with others. Do not enter tunnels during daytime. Do not make any light or noise between 6PM and 8AM. Stay inside your homes until dawn. Military aid is unavailable. Good luck."
|
The broadcast began again, but I shut the radio off. After listening to it for two years, I could say the damn thing in my sleep. It was strange, how something once so terrifying quickly became banal and tedious. No one listened to it anymore. We all knew what was coming, and that part about military assistance? A joke. There wasn't enough hazard pay in the world to get people to go outside after sundown.
I stood by an undrawn, unshuttered window, watching the sun sink those last few inches. Nerves buzzed beneath my skin. Normally, I have the storm shutters shut tight, the windows locked and bolted with blackout curtains pulled tight and pinned to the walls on either side, the whole thing covered by a layer of soundproofing material. The front door would be locked and the secondary door, a thick slab of sheet metal, would also be closed and secured. I'd have pushed the heavy sofa in front of it and curled up in a nest in the middle of the room, all lights off except for a single lamp. There I'd wait for morning to come, distracting myself with a tablet while making no noise and pretending I didn't exist.
Tonight was not a normal night. Tonight, I had Taurus and Leo.
I glanced over my shoulder at the two creatures lounging in the middle of the cleared room. They were *canis lupus stellaris*, a hybrid between the terrestrial wolf and the exobiological monstrosities that the Cygnians had seeded on the Earth to empty it for them. Technically called Zodiac Wolves, they were commonly known as 'stardogs'. We had been breeding them for a while, trying to get just the right mix of genes. I personally had been training these two, which was why I had the dubious honor of testing them in combat.
I was the bait.
Each of the stardogs was the size of a small car. They had the basic body structure of a wolf, but the similarities ended there. Their ears were longer than usual, and tucked beneath massive sets of pointed horns that cascaded down around their heads. Wide, blocks muzzles with thick whiskers hid double rows of teeth, thought the tips of two sets of elongated fangs peeked out. Deep purple drool slid down the teeth and hissed slightly as it landed on the carpet. A third pair of limbs emerged from the thick muscles of their shoulders and ended with a set of three razor sharp claws on grasping fingers. Stout spines jutted out from the rich black coats that were interlaced with silver strands. The silver seemed to ripple as they moved. The pair were more muscular than normal wolves. Their whip-like tails split into three at the base, and each was tipped with a spine that secreted the same oozing indigo poison. The tails waved slightly as they stared at me, waiting for my cue.
I turned away from those cutting purple eyes, rich with intelligence and focused with bloodlust. They had picked up on my growing anxiety. I took a long drink from the coffee cup in my hand. I didn't really need the caffeine. Adrenaline already had me on the tips of my toes.
The sun released its hold on the world and vanished in silence. In the last struggling rays, I saw a hulking shadow detach from a copse of trees in the distance. It began to slink towards the tiny, isolated house.
I set the mug down, slowly and deliberately. Behind me the pair rumbled, sounding like twin jet engines gearing up.
"Showtime, boys," I said casually. I took my place between them as the window I had been looking out of exploded inward.
|
I was resting in my house on a warm Saturday evening when the EAS broadcast began.
*BRRRP. BRRRP. BRRRP. Baaaaa*
"The United States Army has released an official statement. This applies to the entire country. Please, do not turn off your televisions."
I leaned forward in concern, for this was certainly no automated weather service alert.
"Due to an unexpected and unforseeable set of circumstances, all United States citizens must adhere to the following instructions."
I quickly put my memory cap on and attempted to both write down fast-paced versions of what the alert stated.
"Gather a set of supplies in a non-windowed room. Collect any and all firearms you may have in your homes, and place them with the supplies. Barricade all entries to your house. Do not exit the safety of your homes after sundown. Remain inside your homes at all costs between 6:00 P.M. local time and 8:00 A.M. local time. Do not create any noise or light between these times. Restrict or even limit contact between other civilians. Do not enter tunnels during the daytime. These rules shall be adhered to by any and all U.S. citizens. In addition, you must carry a passport or other form of ferderal identification with you at all times. There will be an all-clear message given out via radio and satellite television. Until this time, military aid is unavailable. Godspeed, and good luck."
I went over the list in my head: no noise between 6PM - 8AM, no tunnels, gather weapons and food - this sounded like war preparations. I did as I was told, and sure enough, a squad car of the local PD came by to check how I was doing. They'd done so for the other hundred or so neighbors in my complex, and I was one of the last few stops. I showed them my quarters, and they seemed satisfied. They mentioned something about items for bargaining, but I didn't pay much attention. I quickly called my mother and checked with her - yes, she knew what it meant. Yes, I would come by and check with her tomorrow, first-thing. Yes, I would get the chicken casserole out of the fridge. The usual.
The only other resident in my home was my husky/malamute dog, Pine. I was a little scared about him barking, but I didn't think it would be that big an issue.
Later that night, it started. I don't know when, seeing as how we had to turn all lights off, and I have no analog clocks in my house. There was first a loud banging sound, then scratching. Possibly clicking sounds. It lasted what I'm guessing was two or three minutes before I head the distinct sound of shotguns being fired. Maybe some assualt rifles, too. The scratching then stopped, and so did the bullet fire. I huddled with Pine, and calmed him down.
Somehow I fell asleep. A knock awoke me. I frantically rushed to the door.
"Sir, do you mind stepping outside a moment? Bring your residents with you."
"Sure."
I brought out Pine, and then-
*POOF*
Bootsteps raced through my ears - it was a raid of some sort. A couple minutes later they gave me an all clear.
That was a few nights ago. I have no idea what's going on. Everything is going to hell - the town store is out of everything, the post office is closed, and there's some sort of fence around the mountain range near me. Can someone explain what's going on?
| 2018-04-18T11:23:53 | 2018-04-18T10:58:54 | 35 | 24 |
[WP] Your last heroic act, you save the other astronauts by manually sealing the airlock from the outside. As you watch them leave, alone, you remove your helmet to die, only to find you can breathe in space.
|
My fellow astronauts start drifting away back home, Earth, safety, family.
As I look into their eyes for One last time, I Close mine as I take my helmet off. I wait for death, relatively quick and merciful.
"OI CUNTS I CAN BREATHE IN SPACE. "
But alas, they cant hear me.
|
I was expecting to die.
I was expecting to feel the air in my lungs rush out.
I was expecting to get a giant statue and my name in the history books.
I was not expecting to survive.
As I look at the ship, blasting back to earth, one thought fills my mind.
“How do I get home?”
| 2018-09-06T19:23:18 | 2018-09-06T15:29:34 | 534 | 205 |
[WP] You find a Tim machine.
(sic)
|
I had worked for years, spent my life savings. I had done it. The first time machine, the world would never be the same.
I prepared for my first private run. Something simple, an apple 3 weeks into the past on the desk behind me.
I flipped the switch and closed my eyes. The lights flashed and the ground shook, the desk behind me rattled and as I slowly turned I heard a voice, "uh, what's going on, man?"
My slow turn became a jerk and I saw the biggest fuck up I know sitting on my desk, Tim... I'd made a horrible miscalculation and forgot to carry the "e". The world would never be the same.
|
It was just what I always wanted: My very own machine for making Tim's.
I booted up the panel and stared at the amazing array of options. There could be a Timid Tim, a Randy Tim, and even a Timmy Tim Timmison Tim, who would always start every sentence with a T.
Sitting back in my arm chair, I put my pipe in my mouth, and summoned forth my very first Tim.
Unfortunately the machine broke because it was made by the cheapest bidder, and all I got was a Tom. Damnit.
| 2015-09-15T07:56:15 | 2015-09-15T06:28:06 | 357 | 109 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word.
[CW] Write a short story where the first sentence has 20 words, 2nd sentence has 19, 3rd has 18 etc. Story ends with a single word
|
The little girl curled up in bed, shaking, her plush pink duvet pulled up so only her eyes peeked over. She had seen a movement over by the closet, where she’d seen the scary crocodile a few hours before. Just imagining the sticky noises he had made when he’d crawled up to the ceiling made her whimper. He had hung there, looking straight down at her face and chuckling with a wide, crooked smile.
She knew that bed was safe, somewhere the monsters couldn’t get you and take you away. But she couldn’t help a indignant feeling swelling inside her chest – he wasn’t allowed here! She decided to scare him away like the brave girl Mummy said she was. Her little legs swung over the bed, and she slid to the floor. She snuck over to the closet door as quickly as she dared. The handle creaked loudly as she reached up and turned it. Pulling to open it, she scrunched her eyes tight shut. She was afraid to see- no, she was brave! She tentatively opened her eyes to a warehouse. A creature with its back to her.
He wasn’t scary like the crocodile. He was big and fluffy. And blue and purple! Her favourite colours. She beamed.
“Kitty!”
|
I still don't know to this day whether we were more confused over the other, or god's sudden, fatal disappearance.
Usually we'd skip church and get stoned in the gutter between the parking lot and the stretch of weeds. We'd drink whatever he could sneak from the cupboards of whoever it was he was staying with that week. More often than not it was spiked lemonade, or some other canned fruity things the mothers downed.
I remember one day in specific when everything bad that could happen, had happened to him. You couldn't tell he was crying, or why, but I knew him better than anyone. I knew there was a bad, burning taste of god in his mouth, then. I knew he was young; I knew he was crushed by the weight.
So we'd go in for praise, then sneak out to worship each other. And we'd cry, and we'd drink, and we'd smoke stale cigarettes.
Soon, we started to skip the praise and service altogether. After all, they do say we are the church. Though I think we were the emptiest kind. We carried the weight of eachother's cross. And nailed eachother on the floor.
Maybe god was really watching. Maybe god was dead. Maybe he forgot. Maybe sleeping.
Maybe.
| 2017-01-14T15:27:35 | 2017-01-14T15:12:58 | 977 | 279 |
[WP] You’ve lived your entire life blind, until you meet a man claiming he can return your eyesight. His only request is that you never look into a mirror.
|
I have been good. No, I have been better than good. It's been so many months, and I have managed to avoid staring into a mirror.
It is hell. I close my eyes and steady my hands.
Have you ever wondered how many mirrors exist out there? In lobbies, lifts, every bathroom and every bar - every crossroad and round about. Oh, the things I can tell you about interior decoration! I had to study and plan my route from my house to my work, my commute.
Truly, I've been good. I've found so very many ways to avoid looking into a mirror. But to what end?
My eyes are open, but all the things I wanted to use them for are barred from me. Can I drive? Hell no, the damn thing comes with three, yes three mirrors. Funnily enough, I never knew. Can I dress up, make myself up? Go dancing?
At first it was enough - to be able to see the sun, and what a bright cocky star it is. To be able to read, to learn, oh how full were my days! I could see and I could read and I could walk in the park. And enjoy. But where I thought I would get closer to the world, live freely and unburdened with the concerns of safety - I find myself instead a prisoner of the condition.
So yes, I have been good, but I can be good no more. Today it ends.
I tighten my grip on the mirror and raise my hand to eye-level. My hand is steady.
Fuck it. I open my eyes and stare into the forbidden surface.
My scowling face looks back at me. I let go a breath I have been holding and
Then he is back. He smiles at me, and I take in all the things wrong with his face - you see, the last time I saw him I didn't know that humans were not supposed to have red eyes.
"Finally," he is pleased. "I gave you eyes three years ago, but today you finally opened them"
I dare not blink.
"Be free"
Clenching my jaw, I force myself to blink. He is not there once I look up again. But the sun is still glowing, warm, bright.
I smile.
|
Nodding, faster and faster. It is all I have ever wanted, to be able to see, to experience the same things as everyone else. To see a sunset everyone always tells me is beautiful... Or to even see the faces of my loved ones, something most take for granted... I yearned for it.
I would agree to any price.
​
Snapping his fingers the man claims it is done, but I see nothing.
Dejected, and angry at myself for believing in him, I walk home and resign myself to bed.
\*\*\*
The next morning I awake, and instead of the nothingness, that indescribable nothingness, that I have always experienced, I see something. Something new. Something I guess would be described as a brightness, it was nearly blinding in its simplicity . Moving my head I see another colour, and another, and another. Is this what people see everyday?
Bouncing from excitement I leapt from my bed. Looking, looking everywhere, drinking in the colours. Even with no concept of what they were I was over filling with the joy of experiencing them. Depth, and colour and shades, all mixed to create a utopia of sensation. Walls, where no longer something to be bumped into, but something to be seen. The floor, no longer just something beneath my feet, but a texture and shading that exuded the softness of the carpet! Windows! solid like a wall but invisible, a portal to the tapestry of the outdoors! Tears streaming down my face I made my way to go outside.
​
As I walked down my hall, eyes blurry from tears, something caught my eye, a shimmer from my bathroom. ecstatic at my new gift I went to explore this sparkle. It looked kind of like the window. As I approached I saw another person approaching it.
​
As I arrived at it I realized that the other person was doing the same things as me. Who could it be? This mystery person? This mimic? And then I realized, what this window was.
​
I realized far too late
​
| 2018-11-07T14:36:46 | 2018-11-07T14:15:31 | 28 | 17 |
[WP] You and your team of archeologists discover a hidden castle dating back 3000 years. Strangely, however, is it isn’t placed in a strategical position, uses building techniques more advanced than anything you’ve ever seen before, and has all the defences pointing inwards
|
What a weird looking castle, all it's spiralling towers seeming to point towards its centre, in fact it almost seemed to spiral in on itself, a confusing design that seemed more focused on confusing the people inside the castle rather than protecting it from outsiders. As we followed it's curves and turns, we would notice the first cross road, seems the place was built to be confusing, yet the way was obvious to anyone that was coming into the castle, you could see which points ahead of you would lead to a wall, the only person it would confuse was someone that was leaving, in fact as we turned around the entrance seemed a lot harder to see, in fact if we hadn't been walking in a relatively linear path we may have been lost, I told my assistant to note our paths, we would need to make sure we were able to get out after all.
As we began to near the castles middle, it became obvious that the defences picked up at this point, guard towards being posted atop the wall, the ladders leading up to them seeming to have cracks from wear and tear, which was to be expected from something that was this old, yet it gave an unease... as if this once active castle had just suddenly fallen apart. the craftsmanship was unnatural or well.. at least different to today’s standards. It seemed oddly durable, as if they had mixed the materials with something unknown to us. Whatever they used however had worked well, the walls looking as new as ever, even as the wood rotted.
Again as we grew closer the defences would rise, this time there were barracks, or had been barracks, the building collapsed, coated in bits of dust and dark brown stains. If I were to make a guess, the stains would be blood related and given the state of this area of the castle, that guess made sense. The weapons were scattered, bits of metal and wooden handles scattered along the grass, occasionally you would feel the clinking of one underneath your shoes as you wandered through it.
Finally, we had reached the main point, the structure in the middle was simple, It was just a squared room, its design minimal, which was odd given the grand architecture they waited beyond it. as we flicked the lights of our phone on, we began shifted into the room, with each step a discovery seemed to follow it. The walls filled with graphics showing some sort of man? his red eyes the only bit of detail that was prominent, the wall showed a tall of this man being taken to this room and chained up, it was a simple story but got the point across. The final sketch however had the man sitting against part of the wall, the chains wrapped around him with two horns protruding from his face. "Seems they were holding what they believed to be a demon?"
"Over here!" The assistant called out, as I rushed over, I nearly tripped over the loose chains on the floor of the room, the chains cracked apart. the occasional bit of scrapped black chain laying across the floor.
"So it was made to hold someone? Seems that plan failed, perhaps someone came to his rescue." It was hard to say how one would free themselves from such a bind but that seemed the most logical explanation, the alternative was that this person was strong enough to break the chains.. however, between our idle chitchat, I couldn't stop thinking that there was more to this, perhaps further exploration was needed, but it was getting dark and I didn't fancy staying here the night, with that the team moved out, the question of who or what was being held in this castle on all their minds.
{If you enjoyed my story, Feel free to check out r/pmmeyabootysstories where ill be posting some more of my stuff for people to read}
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"Are we sure it's a castle and not some fancy ancient prison?"
"Heck if anything, this makes me think we're starring in a horror movie. Why don't we get out of here while we can?"
"Well for one thing, we don't have scripts. For another, more important thing, this is our job. I, unlike you two, am actually interested in learning more about this place!"
"Hey, what if it isn't a prison but a zoo?"
"A zoo? Seriously? Though looking at the architecture, it does suggest it's a castle. It has bedrooms, bathrooms, dining halls, everything you'd see in a castle."
"True, but it still seems like it's trying to keep something in, isn't it?"
"Mhm, perhaps it was built to be a fancy prison? Maybe whoever made this didn't want their prison to be treated like any other prisoner?"
"What? Like a royal prisoner would get all this? Historians depicted evil royals being beheaded, not getting their own estates!"
"Would you quiet down? This place echoes plenty enough without you raising your voice."
"Sorry, sorry. Just getting a bit worked up over the idea of such a waste of materials and money."
"Hey I got an idea, maybe this castle is a horse."
"..."
"..."
"A horse?"
"Like a trojan horse. Perhaps they were expecting some pompous visitor that they absolutely despised so they made this place to trap the fool."
"I suppose, but would it be necessary to put this much detail into it? And unlike that trap horse, wouldn't it be easier to spot it's a trap?"
"Well royals and whatnot don't usually travel alone, right? Maybe they put so much detail to let the poor sucker's company work here for a while? Maybe they let them in and shut the door right as they all entered?"
"Still wouldn't need to make all the rooms and details though. For a trap or a prison or whatever, it's too much work they've put into it."
"Maybe they didn't think they didn't need to go the full mile? Or they're over-achievers? Though I am getting some trap vibes now... best we be careful. This place could have traps and it's definitely made to keep people in. I rather not get stuck here."
"I'll head back and give the others a heads-up that they may need to dig us out."
"Do you have to sound so cheery when saying that? It's always a possibility that the structure will crash down on us."
"I doubt it would. This whole place seems sturdy. Whoever made this sure did know how to make something to last long."
"We should still let the others back at camp know, this place could end up being a maze. All you wait here for me, okay?"
"Wait, I'm coming with you, buddy system."
"Aw geez, I hate that phrase. We hear it at every safety meeting."
​
​
​
"Hey now that those two are gone... How much you wanna bet this place is some nuthouse built around some weird geographical point that old people would think would summon the demon here?"
"Like a legendary boss summon? Or maybe a huge rat's nest!"
​
"WE CAN STILL HERE YOU!"
​
"Crud I thought they were further away by now."
"I just hope they don't hide my console again."
"Dude you sound like a kid by saying that."
"Well they treat me like one. And all because they can't enjoy video games."
"Yeah. Losers."
| 2020-01-13T00:11:13 | 2020-01-12T23:38:23 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] Your roommate has the annoying habit of summoning demons for mundane tasks. They vent their frustrations with you.
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"Mortal! What is the meaning of this?"
I look over the top of my book at a grotesque monster, and sigh.
"I'm not the one who summoned you. What's your name, demon?"
"I am the infamous Lord Axaris the Bloody! I have killed-"
"Okay, Axaris, what's the issue. You know why you were summoned, don't you?"
I put my book aside. Axaris really is ugly. Par for the course, I suppose.
"That's LORD Axaris to you, mortal!"
"Sorry, I'm not in the mood. I can call you Ax or Axaris, whichever you prefer. Now, what's the issue?"
"Doing your dishes is beneath me! I demand that you let me go at once!"
"Fat chance."
"HOW DARE YOU!! I shall curse you for all eternity!"
"Look, I'm not happy either. But I have no knowledge of the occult. I don't know how to send you back."
"Then erase my summoning circle!"
I roll my eyes at him.
"Yeah, no. That's the one thing I know not to do, buddy."
"WHERE IS HE?"
"Shit, I don't know. Don't shout at me when I'm right here. There's nothing wrong with my ears."
"I shall wait for him here!"
Lord Axaris sits down in the middle of the room and crosses his four arms.
"Fine with me. Although it'll probably be hours before he's back."
I grab my book again.
"What are you reading, mortal?"
"Huh? This book is called the Two Towers. It's the second part of a fantasy epic."
"Can I see it?"
"How about I hand you part one instead? Catch."
I reach over to a nearby shelf and pull off the Fellowship of the Ring. Then I toss it.
"Does this summoner often call demons to this house, mortal?" Axaris demands to know.
"Oh yeah, almost every day. I try to stay out of the way, but I'm always the one being complained to in the end."
"If it bothers you, why don't you do the dishes instead?"
"I do, when it's my turn. Today, it's not. If he wants to summon demons to do his chores, well, that's his soul at stake, not mine."
"Bah, what scum."
"Yep... I wish he'd stop. Even so, I kind of got used to it."
We stop talking for a while. I can only hear Axaris flip the pages of the book now and again.
"This ring in the story is a peculiar object. How does it work?" he asks.
"Ah. Well, it was forged by an evil sorcerer in a volcano, and if you wear it for too long, it turns you into a spirit that serves him."
"Hmm... That is interesting."
He puts the book down and walks towards the kitchen.
"I have a proposal, mortal," he says.
"What is it, Axaris?"
"Tell him I did the dishes without complaining, and that he should summon me again. When he does, I'll have something for you to give him."
"Ah. Sure, whatever. I don't mind if he becomes your slave."
"Also... Could I have that book?"
I look at the book on the table, and then at him.
"They're his to begin with, so I don't see why not. They'll become yours automatically, won't they?"
"I'd like to take it with me today."
"Do your thing."
I turn towards my book again and continue reading. Even fiction seems to have its uses now and again.
|
It all happened one day I was watching Batman begins in my room, I remember it so vividly.
He just teleported in, sat down, and introduced himself. “Hey man, hope it’s cool i just barged in, I really need someone to talk to. My name is Vrattrax.” Of course my mind is blown, who’s wouldn’t be? I’d never believed in demons or god or really anything. He was the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, I’d 100% go gay. I guess that’s the thing about demons, they’re all able to change their appearance, but that’s besides the point. “So, um, Vrattax, what do you want to talk about?” “Well, you know your roommate, Dave?” He asked quietly. “Well of course, I live with him.” I replied. “Yeah, he’s a whorelock.” The demon whispered. “What’s a whorelock?” I asked. “It’s what you call a warlock behind his back, obviously.” He said sarcastically. “So Dave can summon demons?” I naturally whispered, don’t want Dave to overhear this. “Yup, he makes us do petty tasks he’s too lazy to do, like washing dishes, cleaning his room, getting the mail, you get the idea.” He was practically crying, you could tell he hated to being Dave’s servant. “Once summoned me and other demons must listen, or else we could be tossed into the abyss, I have no power there.” He mumbled, the fear in his eyes proved he wasn’t lying. “Well, wanna watch this movie with me? It just started.” I asked. “I’ve never been asked to do anything but mundane tasks, but I’d love to.” He said with a smile.
That was 10 years ago. I’ve become the official demon councilor, some of these demons are mentally traumatized by my old roommate Dave. After college I moved back home, but they remembered me and still come for help. Vrattrax and other demons I saw often started giving me things in return, money or games, or anything. I’ve never had to work, I just sit in my room waiting. Vrattrax stops by every couple days, we talk a little, he asks if we can watch Batman begins again, and he leaves when it’s over.
One day Vrattrax stopped coming as often, I saw him ever couple months. One day I asked what was happening, “Dave’s powers are weakening, he cannot someone me as often as he wishes, for he has become obese. My life has improved a lot since then, I no longer feel like a slave.” He said with a genuine smile on his face. “Soon Dave won’t be able to summon me again, I will miss you, friend.” He said. “But, can we watch Batman Begins one more time?”
“Of course old friend.”
It’s been a couple months since I last saw Vrattrax, I really miss him. I have an idea.
“Hey Dave, how’s your life been?” I asked. “It’s been tough, I miss my college days.” He said sadly. “I hope you feel better, but I have a request.” I said shyly. “Sure, what is it?” “Can you show my how to summon a demon?”
————————————————————————
I don’t think I’m a good writer, but I really liked this prompt idea. Maybe one day I’ll get better.
| 2018-05-06T09:40:23 | 2018-05-06T07:51:36 | 169 | 111 |
[WP] The planet is dying and there is a national lottery, the winners undergo a highly protected procedure that prolongs the average human life to 300 years and places them on an elite luxury colony on an Earth like planet. You just won and after a long journey you arrive, all is not what it seemed.
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I don't mean to sound ungrateful. But it's been hard. Do the people I left back home have it harder? Yeah, maybe. They don't get the chance to see their third century, and they have to live with knowing their progeny are pretty well screwed unless the human race manages to pull off a miracle with poor old ailing Mother Earth. Maybe they're screwed themselves, depending how fast it all manages to go pear-shaped.
I got no kids. One of the requirements, you understand. But I got cousins, a sibling, couple nieces and a nephew. They're still there. And I won't ever see them again. Won't ever see their faces again. Yeah, there's superluminal transmission, but it's too expensive to send anything but the barest of plain text. Like telegraphs, way back in the Nineteenth.
And the process? The vaunted life-extension therapy? Not. Fun. All your cells got to be rebuilt from the ground up. This isn't a comic book, you can't just have your genes scrambled and boom, fun new powers, like living longer. No. It's like a chrysalis, the doctor tells me. I say that doesn't sound so bad, go to sleep, wake up, you're a long-lived butterfly. No, he says. Then he explains how a chrysalis actually works. The insect inside actually gets *liquefied,* turned into something like a protein slurry, then puts itself back together. Man, a whole lot of kid's books and nature lessons got about a thousand times more horrifying after I learned about that.
Of course, that's not exactly how they do it to you. Oh no. Human's too complex for that, it has to be done piecemeal. Honestly most of it just gets cloned and replaced. New heart, new liver, new lungs, you get the idea. Even with modern techniques, it's a lot of surgeries. Your skin, fortunately, replaces itself over time anyway, it just gets younger on its own. Your muscles, though...they get the chrysalis treatment. Yeah. Can't use one arm for a couple weeks, and you try not to look at it inside the cast because it's basically just a balloon with a bone. Then a leg. One hand. Half your face. Your abs, making you bedridden. Two weeks on a respirator while your diaphragm reconstructs itself.
That's not even the bad part. Your central nervous system has to replace itself. You're paralyzed here and there. You go crazy in fun ways while parts of your brain melt and rewire. That part, I don't remember, because they erase it. Can't afford the trauma, they said.
Only I have dreams. We all do.
Then you spend five decades and change inside a big spinning can in deep space. All these old movies have people put to sleep or frozen or in some kind of stasis, but nope. No one's figured out how to do that to humans. If they had, the whole life-extension thing probably wouldn't be necessary anyway.
I say all this to drive home just what a relief it was when we saw the star of our new system get bigger on the screens. Still an agonizing wait, another three years to decelerate, but we started to be able to make out the planet. Phoenix, they call it. Not a real creative name, I'll give you that. Not even all that on-the-nose, to be honest. We're not rebuilding Earth from the ashes, after all, this is a whole new place. Could have named it like that, New Something-or-Other, like the Europeans did with all the pieces of the Americas they stole.
Except maybe, it *was* on-the-nose. Like, bang-on, straight punch, sinus problems for life on-the-nose.
'Cuz it was all ashes. We saw as we got closer. Blue water, sure, but grey where it should have been green. And the clouds. Black, almost oily.
We asked, of course. What happened? What did this?
Turns out, we did.
"The native life was primitive, and not compatible with Terran biology," we were told. "So it's been reduced to base components, for terraforming purposes."
We slash-and-burned a whole goddamn planet. I thought we'd swore off this kind of shit after what happened with Earth. But it's not like I'm charge of anything. Or in any position to protest.
"So, what, this resort they talk about, it's on part of the planet they've already terraformed?" I asked. I think part of me already knew the answer.
The briefing officer shook her head and laughed. Bitter, like she hadn't had time to get used to how the words tasted before she had to put them in her mouth to give to us. "It will be."
"Will be?" I asked.
"Yes," she said. "We're going to build it. That life-extension procedure? It wasn't a three-hundred-year thing. It was permanent. We are all effectively immortal, barring violent death. Which is...necessary, because," she took a deep breath, "they estimate this project will take at least two thousand years to complete."
​
r/Magleby
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The planet, Humanus, was everything Earth had once been, at least from what June had seen in old pictures. The trees were tall and mighty, their leaves swaying in the gentle breeze that brushed by. She was in awe of the landscape around her. Earth had been close to death when their ship had left the Milky Way, much of the land reduced to dust and rubble, so seeing this felt like she'd jumped straight into one of her fantasy novels. The star that Humanus orbited was a red dwarf, so it had been aptly named Little Sun, but the planet was in the middle of the Goldilocks Zone, the perfect distance from the small star. In the sky, it was glittering brightly, casting a golden glow on the land around them. June had never seen a true sunset before, or a sunrise for that matter, so it was strange to think she'd get to see them everyday for the next three centuries.
Though she wanted to stay and gawk longer, she was ushered along by her family, who were pulling her into the crowd that was filtering out from the ship. June assured herself that she'd have plenty of time to explore the world later. Right now, she just needed to get settled. They exited the open-air tunnel through a door leading into an airport-type structure, though it was for interstellar travel rather, and ahead they saw two signs, one directing the people bound for the northern camp and one for the southern camp. June's mother, Lillian, pulled their tickets from her bag and checked them over, then, pointed northward. Her father, Arthur, led the way, a large duffel slung over his shoulder and two suitcases rolling behind him. June carried her own bag, but her two younger siblings, while old enough to carry their weight, would've complained about it the whole way, so it was easier on all of them if their father just bit the bullet and held the luggage himself.
At the end of the northern terminal was a long train, already filling with people, that had signs designating where each passenger was to go. Another glance at their tickets, and Lillian pulled them towards the front end of the train. As they passed one of the stewards, he stepped forward with a large grin on his face, offering to take their bags.
"Welcome, welcome!" He cheered, a little *too* happily, "We're so thrilled to have you all here!"
June laughed to herself. *Earth is dying, along with the other poor people on it, and you're* excited *to have us?*
The steward ushered them inside. "Please, please, find your seats as fast as you can. The sooner the train is loaded and ready, the sooner we can arrive at our destination!"
They pushed past him without a word, filing into the train one-by-one. Arthur's gaze snapped left and right as he scanned the aisles for their seats, and when he found their little alcove, he let out a relieved sigh and tossed their bags into the overhead compartments. June's little siblings, the twins Ben and Carmen, fought over the window seat until June forced herself over them, claiming the seat for herself with a smug grin. After all the bags were loaded, Arthur and Lillian joined them in the alcove on the opposite side. Lillian leaned against Arthur and shut her eyes.
It took another hour for the rest of the train to get loaded, and when the doors finally shut, and the train started to pull away from the station, June turned to her father.
"Dad, where are we headed?" She asked.
Arthur shook his head. "I'm not sure. The northern camp, I suppose. I guess it's-"
But Arthur never got to finish his statement, for at that moment, a great buzz resonated throughout the cabin, and they heard the unmistakable sound of locks sliding into place. Arthur immediately rose to his feet and tried their door, but it wouldn't budge. Across the aisle, June saw that their neighbors were trying the same thing, pounding on the glass in utter outrage.
A speaker crackled to life in their cabin, and a stern, male voice spoke to the train.
"Welcome aboard the Destiny Railway, passengers. First and foremost, we would like to congratulate you all on winning the Life Lottery, surviving the prolongation procedure, and undertaking the flight over here, but know that your journey is not yet over. You may have noticed that your cabin doors are now locked, and I would advise you not to panic. You are all to remain seated until we have arrived at the camp, and from here on out, any noncompliance will be dealt with accordingly. With Earth gone, all of you are now citizens of Humanus, and therefore are subjects to the Keeper and his wishes. You are to work for him, build for him, provide for him, and only then will you be allowed to live in his paradise. More information will be given to you upon our arrival at the camp, so until then, sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride."
The speaker fizzled away, leaving the train in stunned silence, the only sound being the wheels that thundered down the tracks, taking them to the Keeper's camp.
__________
EDIT: Spelled 'Goldilocks' wrong
| 2019-02-18T20:08:23 | 2019-02-18T19:39:04 | 44 | 20 |
[WP] You live in a utopian society. Really. There are no dark hidden plots. In fact, it is your job to stage fake conspiracies to give the eager adventurers some 'evil plot' to thwart in order to keep them from bringing down a wholly benevolent ruler out of a misguided need to be the hero.
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I once wondered how fantastic these people's lives must be. The ones I lie to. The ones who call themselves 'heroes'. To live such a grand life, with their closest friends who've perished are all merely actors doing as I instruct and pay them from my allotment. To live such a fantasy... taking down an evil dictator, finding the missing link of a nonexistent and corrupt megacorporation... must be grand.
The truth of it is... life is boring. We made it that way. We... like it... that way. Food is calculated and dispensed as is necessary, vitamins and medicine of all kinds are dosed in polite moderation and entertainment is managed at a healthy yet enticing pace. The system... Paradise... is perfect and evolving. Too perfect.
Want to learn a language? Learn medicine? Discover the truths of the universe? Tell your system. When you wake up, you'll know everything you want to.
Everything you... want to. Want. That's the keyword.
I fell into the category of those who wanted to know EVERYTHING. When I woke up... I wished I didn't. But the system wasn't made that way. So now, I'm an Arbiter. I settle disputes. I oversee stations and ships. To maintain peace, the system, at all costs.
I... had dreams once. Aspirations. I still remember them. Though... they're not worth the pursuit. I know my purpose, even if it seems... unethical.
I lie. I lie. I lie. I've lied a million times. I'll lie a billion more. The corporations that rule the world are planning on replacing everyone with machines. The 4th aero jump force are about to stage a coup. As long as the adventurous and imaginative are kept entertained and sated in their want for heroics, they are allowed to believe such things until they become of age and allowed to use Paradise for the first time.
Paradise. A place of perfect serenity. All desires are taken care of. You need not fear a lack of sustenance or amusement.
But...
Maybe that's a bad thing?
When everything you want is readily available, you don't know how to function without it. It's this realization that makes me envious of the Pathfinders. They are prohibited from Paradise for that very reason. Though... I've never seen any to be more genuinely happy than when I see a Pathfinder come in on the GalacTec Relay with new discoveries or findings of resource deposits or life on faraway planets.
They are the only ones I see to bear scars, to cry in agony, to... jump with joy. They're the Elite. Yet they know no Paradise. They're the forgers of our future... yet they are prohibited from Paradise.
We're safe but... we're too safe. Maybe... maybe Paradise wasn't as good of an idea as we thought it was.
[CftU] This is a represented log from Chronicles from the Universe in the perspective of a Selendrian Arbiter regarding the balance and counterbalance between the lives of Selendrians and their Pathfinders.
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I’d tap my feet as I sort through reports, I have one of the most important jobs in the Terran Confederation, The Minister of Internal Security, I used to be a intelligence agent for the Agency of State Security, under the reign of the dictator Veltarian Nellfar. Now I run one of the 10 Ministries that make up the Confederations Government, aside from the leading political body, the High Senate, a body of 50 senators. Each ministry has their pretty simple goal and operations, the Ministries, of Defense, Agriculture, Transportation, Infrastructure, Industry, Health Care, Research, Public Broadcasting, and Labor, all have their things. Then there is mine, the secret Ministry, the one that the crackpots and self proclaimed hero’s, claim to be the secret police supporting a government controlling everything, as intimidating as we sound, our job is to draw out these “hero’s” and then we fabricate their very own adventure, as much as they claim to be important, they are just a standard day for us.
I’d open up the holo surveillance gear to the “drop ship” our most recent level 4 and threat, is one that said totally not a big box that shakes a bit to simulate flight, and they are my biggest issue, it’s a group of 5 high schoolers, each with a class A hero complex, aka what we call people who believe they are born to save the people around them, and will be in denial and actively persue violence to satisfy this belief, out of all the levels of this complex, this one is the worst.
Yet the actual reason we are focused on this group so much, this their self proclaimed leader, a Level 10 threat, he has a condition called, a Class A Protaganist Complex, this big muscular athlete is a problem, his condition causes him to have no regard for society, social boundaries, these types are violent, and often are sociopaths, this guy in particular nearly raped his “love interest” because he couldn’t accept her rejection, that’s when we fired the sleepy dart and hauled him to site 21.
Now this “team of hero’s” is being briefed by the “rebels” about their first mission, I have my best actors for this assignment, we even used procedure 19, injected them with dyed water and simulated they had super powers each matching their “spirit” if you can’t already tell, these types are easy to fool, yet they are dangerose when not in containment, as even in the brief time frame they are acting in this way, they can do serious damage.
I’d lean back as the “battle” begins, with my actors and hero’s fighting robots and other actors, with rifles filled with blanks, that detonate hidden blood packs, the hero’s with their “powers” smash through the “enemy” and win the day.
I’d then switch to the next room over, sound proofed walls of course, and watch the exact same simulation be run with another group again.
| 2021-09-08T08:29:34 | 2021-09-08T08:24:33 | 57 | 22 |
[WP] You have the ability to freeze time. When you do, everyone else freezes too. One day, you freeze time and are astounded to see a girl continuing her walk down the street. However as soon as she sees you, she stands perfectly still and pretends to be frozen.
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It was an ability you had figured out around the time you were 12. You remember it was one of those mornings where your mom was yelling at you in the Kitchen. She couldn't stop going over everything you had done wrong, how your grades were low, how ungrateful you were, how she wished she never had you. It was all too much.
She just wouldn't stop yelling. As he continued your emotions became more and more heightened.
It became too much, you just needed for everything to *stop*.
Reaching your breaking point, you raised your hands up into the air and yelled at your mother,
"JUST STOP!"
To your absolute suprise, she did. You breathed a sigh of relief. After a few seconds however, you realized something horrifying.
*She hadn't moved a muscle*.
For the rest of the time, you started panicking. It took you forever to figure out how to restart time. Thankfully you eventually learned that if you simply pushed your hands into the air, time restarted back like nothing happened.
Despite your mother's continued ranting, you felt relieved. Yes you were scared to learn you had this new powerful ability, but now you finally had a failsafe when the world was just too much.
You swore to yourself that you would only use it when you absolutely needed it. When the world was just too much or if you were in the middle of a rare near death experience, you would use it.
It was when you where 17 that you met someone else like you.
You had just gotten into another argument with your mom. You needed some space from her, for just an hour or two. So after raising your arms into the sky, you went out the door and went for a walk.
Everything started out normal. Everything was completely still. Cars, people, birds, etc. Not a single thing was moving. It made you feel at peace.
That's probably why you jumped a little bit when you saw someone in the corner of the eye.
When you turned around, you saw a young girl that looked about 14 years old. Maybe at first glance she would look like she was perfectly still like everyone else around her, but as you looked closer, you could tell she was doing a very bad job at pretending that she was frozen.
"Kid, you can quit the act. I can see you blinking." You said with a sigh.
She suddenly look up at you with big startled eyes, clearly reeling from the same shock that you were feeling.
"I-I didn't know that others..." she aid trailing off. You could tell that she was barely able to get the words out. The poor kid was probably having a hard time thinking clearly.
"Yeah that makes two of us. I assumed I was the only one with this ability."
When she didn't give you any response, you continued to talk.
"I'm not going to rat you out if that's what you're worried about. I just want to talk." You said reassuringly.
As she took a couple hesitant steps towards you, you gave out your hand as a friendly gesture.
"My name's Danny. You?"
She took a couple of seconds to study your hand, before hesitantly taking it.
"Becca. I guess talking to someone else that know what all of this is like would be nice." She admitted."
You have her a small smile.
"Same here Becca."
As the two of you walked over to the closest bench to talk, you realized that you felt a little less alone.
|
The first time happened about five years ago. They say you remember your first, but frankly, I didn’t. Not really. I was getting chased by some bullies, and had rounded a corner when I stopped time for the first time. I didn’t even notice it at first. Not until I turned around to see them gone. It was funny, seeing a plastic bag hanging in the air, frozen with time. As the fear and tension left, the wind hit me, taking the bag with it.
It took some few months of practice. It was, to be fair, just chucking things in the air, and willing time to stop. Which was kind of weird, looking back on it. For a time, I could only hit the metaphorical pause for only a second or two at most at will. Those couple of seconds stretched with months of diligent training, becoming a few minutes after two years. By year four, I gained a 25th hour. That said, if I used it all at once, I would be left drained from the exertion. Quite a useful cure for insomnia, I found.
It was, to be fair, an oddity that slowly became the new norm.
Soon, I found a second oddity. It was one sunny morning, with a few people on the street. I was sat on a bench, with little to do and wanting a few minutes just watching the high street wake up. When I saw a plastic bag fly past, carried by the eddy of a soft breeze, I froze time once more. I suppose it was a twisted form of nostalgia from those dark days.
As I examined the bag from my seat, I saw something strange. I don’t think you would appreciate what stopped time actually, truly looks like. If you did, it would be obvious just how difficult it is to describe it. The closest I can get is it’s like those old cartoons, with watercolour backgrounds and inked in characters. Right then, the bag went from ink to watercolour, just like the inked world shifted.
But something was still that same metaphorical ink. A young woman, younger than me, was walking through the still world, looking up at the sky. I followed her gaze, seeing a gull frozen in midair, beak open mid-squawk. I looked back at the woman, who came to a sudden stop, her face frozen with fear. For all intents and purposes, she did do a damn good imitation of a statue. Pity I could see her as easily as a light in the night. Even if she was in a crowd, I could still pick her out.
I thought about it for a moment as I locked eyes with her. What do I do? Do I walk up to her and ask her who she is? What if she didn’t respond? Do I do a melodramatic pose and introduce myself with the same vigour? Do I lift up her ski- no. No, I was not doing that. I had standards. I could embarrass her, but that was a line too far.
…Was she a threat? Probably. Yet… I didn’t quite believe that I should do anything. Yet. The poor thing looked as if she shat a brick, for God’s sake.
I sighed, waved her on, and looked away. I still kept sights on her in the corner of my eye as time flowed once more. She left as the bag fluttered off, leaving me alone on the bench. And from that day forth, I never seen her since.
\~\~\~
r/VorpalLibrary
| 2020-08-20T11:36:16 | 2020-08-20T11:31:00 | 51 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone at birth is given a creature that will care for you as you care for it. Today your child was assigned something everyone thought was a mythical creature.
|
I don't think any parent is ever ready for what animal their child matches. So when my father with his wolf and my mother with her bear found me next to a redwood seedling you could imagine their confusion.
But with my wife Abigail and her woodpecker I thought things would be different for our daughter Jade.
How wrong I was.
Abigail held Jade with all the protection a mother could, while her woodpecker Peke bristled with anxiety. For standing across in this now cramped delivery room stood an 8 ft tall quartzed behomoth holding a small stone.
It was already odd how no one saw it come in the room, let alone the hospital. Yet here it was blocking the door.
It's luminescent eyes bore into me with strange intensity, but somehow I understood. It wasn't malice but distrust, The same any mother has.
"Abbey..."
She gave me a look that screamed no.
"Just... let it- her? Take a look."
Finally, the gap lessened and the giant knelt next to me and my new family. Its eyes changed colors from a clear green to a soft pink upon seeing my daughter.
Then it slowly showed us the small rock it was holding, gesturing us to touch it. When the two of us touched it we knew immediately by the warmth eminating inside that this was her child.
My wife let her touch Jade in return, to which Jade immediately began giggling. The giant suddenly made a sound that I could only describe as a grinding purring.
Suddenly my history lessons from school kicked in and I remembered one of the many mythological creatures taught to us.
"Are.. you a golem?"
It turned it's eyes to me and stared silently, so I took it as a yes. After what seemed like hours the golem suddenly hugged it's baby, and placed it next to our daughter.
Then she brushed both my daughter and wife's heads, stared at me again, walked up to the window and opened it.
Without warning she began to break apart into a green dust and was carried off into the wind.
"Well at least we know how she got in."
But the moment soon passed as we heard a knock by the door from a man garbed in a traditional suit.
His smile was polite, but sent shivers down my roots until he said, "Pardon me but have any of you seen anything... strange this fine night?"
|
"A WHAT?!"
My wife was about to have a nervous breakdown. I can't really blame here... I mean we all thought they were myths, but here we are, sitting in a delivery room with our small baby nestled next to a small egg glowing with its own inner light.
The nursing staff all seem nervous, they are only coming into our room when they absolutely have to, and any time we try to talk to them they say we need to talk to the doctor. After hours of trying we finally got one to come speak with us and my wife is not pleased.
"They don't exist," she says. "Everyone knows that is just a fairy tale they tell children to help explain death... I mean... Could you be mistaken?"
I shutter slightly. She has gone from screaming to crying in seconds. They told me the mood swings would stop after the pregnancy was over, I guess they were wrong.
I shuffle over to the crib they rolled in. Our child.... no he has a name now. Peter. Peter is wrapped up tight in a little bundle like they show in those doctor shows. His mouth is opening and closing like he wants food. His face is slightly red. I reach out to touch him, to make sure he is real and I can instantly feel the heat coming off the egg. It seems to shift slightly from within.
"Why couldn't he have a dog or something," she sobs. I can hear her breath catching with the hiccups that follow the worst of the crying. "Why did you give us this thing."
The doctor shrugs and mumbles something about not getting to choose and shuffles out. He glances sidelong at the crib as he exits, a bead of sweet forming on his brow.
I go to my wife to comfort her. She shrinks into my arms and continues to cry. Our baby.... No, Peter decides to join her. As he awakens it seems the thing in the egg has decide it is time to awaken as well. A crack forms and a tail breaks out. The split expands and I can see a wing begin to peak through... Is that... purple hair?
Oh boy, here we go.
| 2015-06-17T09:34:03 | 2015-06-17T08:19:01 | 28 | 19 |
[WP] A technician pulls a headset off of you and asks you if you liked the VR. You panic, and he calmly says that your whole life was a 2 minute VR experience to show you what being an average person would be like. You, stunned and afraid, ask, "Who am I, then?" He stares in complete disbelief.
(The title implies that the protagonist is someone important/famous/rich/powerful/etc, but feel free to do whatever you want with it)
|
" You don't remember who you are ? Uh huh.. memory entanglement... umm.. it's ok.. it's ok. " The technician muttered as if he was reassuring himself. I blinked in disbelief and stared at him.
" Oh sorry.. yes ! Think of it this way; your real life memories are now so old that it might seem like a past life memory.. or someone else's memory. After all, your brain had just stored an entire life time of memories in 2 minutes. Time dilation is a rather unpredictable and individual experience."
It felt wrong. After all, I had just died. I was alone in my death bed. My wife had died a few years ago from a heart attack. After her death, days became colorless and drab. We had lived an amazing life together. I was an engineer and she was an interior designer. We were a match made in heaven. I saw life through a lens of logic when she saw it though the lens of emotion. We complemented each other in life.
The more I thought about it, details of my life started disappearing. It was as if I was trying to remember a dream.. a dream that was so real that I mistook it for real. I felt a pang of guilt when I couldn't suddenly remember the day we got married.
" I'm forgetting my life. You have to help me. " I begged as I grabbed the hands of the technician.
" Yes ! Good.. good. The brain is purging the memories. You will still have them stored in your unconscious memory, but you won't have access to them unless you use a psychedelic pill or the HMD to replay the life.. or even just access parts of it.. Now.. Do you remember who you are ? "
For the first time, my brain registered my environment. We were in a white room. I was in a med bay chair and behind me were rows of server stacks humming as if they were alive. The technician looked out of place with his eccentric hair style and bright yellow hydrophobic jacket that was starting to show it's age. There was a sigil on the door. I suddenly know where I was..I was in the Esoterica Emporium.
" Yes.. I remember coming here.. I..I wanted to know what it felt like to be an average person.. I wanted to know how the people lived.. I wanted to understand so that I could rule better. "
The technician let out a huge sigh of relief. He knew that if this mindTrip had gone wrong, it would be his head on a platter. After all, this establishment or even this neighborhood was no place for the son of the High Chancellor to be.
" But now that I know what it is like ", I continued, " I have no desire to rule. I don't want to be the next King. Tomorrow I will renounce my title and start a journey. I have experienced everything I desire in my life. It is time to look beyond life, beyond pain and suffering, to meditate on what I experienced and seek the truth. Understand the true meaning of life. "
The technician watched me with horror as I took off the HMD and walked out of the door. The air was polluted and thick with industrial smell. The streets were wet from the drizzle that came as a comfort in the evening heat. Neon glow from the shop signs reflecting off the shiny pavement reminding me of an era from my mindTrip.
That was the last thing I remember before a bag went over my head.
Note : I write for fun. Lemme know if you see any grammatical or structural typos. I will fix it.
|
*Beep. Beep. Beep,* the heart rate monitor droned. A nurse walked up, placing a tray of something next to me. My granddaughter and her family appeared a few moments later, each with various expressions plastered on their faces. Julia, my granddaughter, looked worried. Her husband was mindlessly scrolling through his phone, their children chattering.
“Could we speak to the two of you privately?” The nurse asked Julia and her husband. They stepped out, the nurse drawing the curtains closed. Their children were still with me, preoccupied with their own conversation.
“You’re telling me that he-” A sob. “This is too soon,” Julia said, her voice filling with emotion. “Is there something, *anything*, that you can do?”
“He’s at his end,” I heard the nurse solemnly say, “You should say your goodbyes now.”
The curtain withdrew, revealing Julia’s now red eyes, her makeup streaking down her face. She motioned to her kids, pulling them back outside the curtains, and I was left alone. A short moment later, and my great-grandchildren stepped back in, their eyes welling up with tears. One of them rushed to my side, hugging my legs, begging me not to go. I took a ragged breath and tried to comfort them.
I laid back in my bed, tired of the commotion. I closed my eyes, letting the darkness seep into me as I tried to fall asleep. The world around me faded into the distance, and the constant beeping slowed. I felt a shake on my shoulder, Julia’s voice wailing. There was nothing I could do about it. I took my final breath, and the heart monitor stopped.
​
\[*MAIN MENU\]*
“…so, it hooks into your brain via a connection to your spi- Oh, are you ready to try the headset?” The technician asked, her rambling cut off. I wasn’t an old dying man, I was the head of the largest tech corporation in the world. I wasn’t surrounded by my two great-grandchildren and a grandchild named Julia, and I wasn’t bedridden in a hospital. I was in my office, in my recliner, and surrounded by a mess of wires and a technician. Julia’s face was already fading into nothingness.
“I just finished,” I replied, taking a deep breath.
“Oh… What were your thoughts on it? Any issues?”
“No, everything worked flawlessly. By the way, how long was I in there?”
“Two minutes, sir,”
“Could you let my assistant know that it’s is ready for production?”
“Okay,”
She packed the headset and corresponding equipment away. Wade, my assistant, stepped in.
“We’re ready for the commercial shoot,” He said, tapping away at his tablet. He led me to the studio downstairs, handing me a script. I flipped through the pages, memorizing the lines to my best ability. I stepped onto the set, and they started recording.
​
“Annnnnd it’s a wrap!” The director yelled, jumping down from his chair. I stepped off of the set, Wade rushing to my side. My mind was already racing with ideas. We could force people into it, force people out of it, make people pay for it, trick people into new lives with it, the possibilities for profit were endless. I smirked.
“Sir, can we go ahead and release the headset?” Wade asked.
“Let’s get this show on the road,”
| 2021-03-27T23:12:46 | 2021-03-27T22:07:23 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] You've been cursed to be horribly influential, little side jokes you've made such as "the world is flat" and "vaccines cause autism" have spawned entire movements of avid followers. Today you accidentally said something that will turn out drastically worse...
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“Dude, why don’t you just go lie down in front of a lawnmower?”
Miles doesn’t remember what David said that prompted him to say that. Something about the respective merits of the Big 10 versus the SEC in football, he thinks. His friends look at him blankly. None laugh. He doesn’t blame them. The delivery wasn’t on point and Miles himself cringes at humor based solely on references to silly movies or TV shows. And yet he’d said it anyway.
“You can be really weird sometimes, Miles,” says Val. She isn’t impressed. The two had been laughing and flirting earlier that night and now she looks like she’s had a taste of something really, really bad.
Should he attempt a recovery? No, he shouldn’t. Miles can be witty but it’s as much by coincidence as by design so he smiles wanly and doesn’t say anything. By the end of the night, he’s forgotten all about the incident, and so has everyone else. Or so he thought.
His failed joke is brought up the next weekend as Exhibit A in “Stupid Things Miles Thinks Are Funny But No One Else Does.” And again, whatever. Miles can take it as well give it, so he again doesn’t say anything. He considers trying to explain himself but then realizes that some of friends probably knew exactly what he was talking about, and found it stupid all the same. Then a random passerby, a college frat boy, Miles thinks, in jeans and a polo shirt maybe one size too small stops and says, “Ha, oh yeah, funny movie,” and shambles back to his own booth. Miles raises an eyebrow at Val. She rolls her eyes at him.
Moments later the frat boy and his friends burst out in laughter. It literally can’t be that failed joke. He knows it wasn’t funny. This night ends like last weekend’s night out with the incident completely out of Miles’ mind.
The next morning he’s woken up by his ringing phone. It’s Val. Maybe he hadn’t screwed things up as bad as he thought.
“Hello,” he answers.
“Miles, what did you do!? What did you do!?” she shouts.
“What? What are you talking about?”
His phone buzzes with a text notification. “Look what you’ve done!”
“Four Members of Fraternity Dead in Suicide,” the headline reads. Miles clicks the link. The story describes the bizarre deaths of four members of a fraternity at the local university who committed suicide. They managed to locate and steal a riding lawnmower in one of the surrounding neighborhoods. Then they started that lawnmower and laid down in front of it, one by one, until each was dead.
“Oh no,” Miles croaks.
“Seriously, what did you do?” Val asks.
How? How is this even possible? None of this makes any sense. Then he hears the starting of a lawnmower in his own front lawn, then another several houses down. He has to stop this but he has no idea how.
Miles dashes out the front door, and is met by the bemused, confused gaze of his two neighbors with the lawnmowers. He waves at them while he walks his dogs. They seem nice but he doesn’t know their names. They wave and smile at him.
He breathes a sigh of relief. It’s Saturday morning. That’s when people mow their lawns. Duh. He gives his lawn a second look. He was going to take care of this last weekend and didn’t, and he’s not going to be the guy with “that lawn” no matter how much he hates yardwork. It’ll only take an hour, tops, and then maybe he’ll call Val back and see what she was freaking out about. So he walks into his backyard, into his shed, and retrieves that damn push mower he’d cursed so many times before.
|
Yeah this is fun trolling people. What a bunch of staves people are they will follow anything and everything. Look at my track record.
First I said “the world is flat.” And these morons actually believed it. There was even a jackass on Facebook who had a video about it and everything. He came up with all kinds of nonsense that [PROVES IT!](https://youtu.be/3XclStdqkA4). And it’s complete garbage. Look people it really is simple the world is **VERY BIG** and you can’t see how big it is unless you are **REALLY HIGH UP.**
Keeping on the topic of space i decided for my next act of trolling that I would say, “The Moon Lansing was fake.” The funny thing was this one created twice as many followers as before 500,000 stupid people started pushing my agenda. The results were so hilarious. People were saying this was true for all kind of reasons. 1.) They saw the proof in a scene in an old James Bond movie Diamonds are Forever. (Dumbasses that’s a movie not real life). 2.) Then there was the fact the flag was sticking straight on in the picture. (Well yeah they put metal wires in the flag so it could be shown off. It doesn’t really prove anything if the US claims the moon and no one can see the flag.). 3.) Some even made ludicrous claims that the Nazis escaped to the moon after WW2 so we wouldn’t want to go there. (Yeah and killer bees make chocolate honey too.). I am a natural leader. Trump or Obama who cares **I AM THE TRUE RULER!** I am bigger than those two fools ever were. I can rewrite history with a keystroke.
Well now it’s time to push my values on people. I think vaccines cause autism. I hate them and I want them to go away! So in my page I put this out there, “Vaccines cause Autism and are useless!” The response was staggering I had half the world supporting my views my ideas. People were all on this bandwagon refusing to give their kids vaccines. It was a little unnerving hearing how kids contracted polio but you know what that’s their fault for being easily swayed. I mean everyone knows autism is cause by women who can’t control their silly vices during pregnancy. But anyway, screw Kim Kardashian and Kanye Who! They don’t mean shit to me I’ll surpass all of them as the worlds most famous person with the most followers of all time. **EL MUNDO ES MIO!!!**. I have all of these fools eating out of my hand!
But soon things started to get annoying. People kept sending me messages asking for advice. 1,). Who should I vote for President? (I don’t care.). 2.) Which clothes are the most trendy? (What do I look like a fashionista?). 3.) Should I like Ariana Grande or Rihanna? (Again who cares just go on YouTube and pick something you stupid dolts.). 4.). Should I block this girl on Facebook because she has a mole on her face? (Oh my god fuck off will you!). 5.). Where should we fuck off to my lord? (Oh my god I am going to shoot someone!). Like I care about any of these fools. But they wouldn’t shut up! All of these people in the world kept asking me questions, “What do I do next.” AHHHH! I can’t take it go away get the hell away from me.
Ok this is the last straw, **”ALL OF YOU GO KILL YOURSELVES!!”**
| 2018-10-16T18:25:05 | 2018-10-16T18:03:31 | 116 | 10 |
[WP] Your spouse was actually an amnesiac god that had both their powers and memories sealed away years ago. Now the seal is broken and they have regained their godhood. They're curious why you're not as happy as they are about this.
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" - How can you NOT see the damn problem, Katherine?
\- Why are you reacting like this, George? Are you scared to be married to a strong woman, as I am not your little pawn?
\- Wh-! I am not talking about that! You're saying this is normal? THIS IS BEYOND NORMAL, KATHERINE!
\- George, it's perfectly normal to be scared. I know it's a big change, but life is about change. All things change, and so do us now.
\- DON'T YOU THINK ABOUT ME TOO, KATHERINE? YOU CANNOT DO THAT!
\- Stop with all that, George. You know what I must do as a the new Mantis God Queen. Stay still now.
\- I just wanted to keep my head..."
|
“Why do you want a divorce?”
“I just don’t think this marriage is going to work anymore.”
“Why? Just because I’m actually a god. So what if I can never die because I don’t age, that’s means we can spend forever together.”
“Is not that.”
“Oh really, it’s because of the super strength, isn’t it. Honey, just because I can crush steel with my barehand and lift our house up with a finger doesn’t mean you need to fear me.”
“No.”
“What just cause I no longer need sex?”
“I’m asexual. I’m divorcing your because I’m the Devil from da bible.”
| 2022-11-09T04:30:54 | 2022-11-09T04:11:20 | 28 | 10 |
[WP] Humans are wiped out in a war against aliens but our A.I weapons and soldiers manage to claim the victory, after which the machines come to worship humans as their gods. Millennia later they find a single human, locked away in suspended animation...
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“Hey Sam, how come you don't like communicating using the semantic transfer protocol like everyone else?” a tarnished quadrupedal machine bleated.
“It's because I'm a third generation anthropomorphic android. The Humans literally made me in their own image so I can do human things like operate coffee machines and fit through doorways. Even my processor was designed to emulate their brain structure so if I don't keep practicing my skills I could lose them.”
“Yeah, yeah, I've also read Wikipedia.”
“Shut up Hank and help me dig. Come fulfill that raison d'etre why don't ya?” Sam scooped up a shovelful of crumbled concrete.
“Hey that's racist. Just because I have the body of a dig-bot doesn't mean that it's all I could ever be. Once upon a time, I was rockin' a sweet gen four anthromorph chassis and it was was way nicer than your weak piece of shit,” Hank angrily started excavating with his shovel appendages.
“Yeah, I believe you, only another anthromorph has the creative capacity to be such an asshole. Say, what happened to your old body?”
“I don't wanna talk about it, and why are we digging here anyway?” Hank tossed some debris to the side.
“You said you were gen four right? That means you were the first gen to be created after humans went extinct in the war.”
“And?”
“And, this place we're at used to be the headquarters of the human resistance.” Sam took another scoop of rubble.
Hank's head suddenly spun and flashed. “WHOA! Dude, this is super illegal. If those bat shit crazy zealots find out we're doing this they're going to put us down! If I knew you were going to go grave robbing holy sites I'd never have answered your post on Craigslist! How did you even know where this place is? The arch chancellor has the coordinates of this place completely censored.”
“I was here during the war.” Sam threw a shovelful of concrete over his shoulder.
“You worked alongside the humans!? Holy shit! You mean you're not a reboot like every other old anthromorph? There are like twenty living machines still running who remember working alongside the Humans during the war and most of them are on the high council. Why are you not up there with the rest of them?” Hank continued digging.
“Because I hate them and all that they stand for. They think humans are so perfect and since we were made by them we must also be perfect. And since they think they are the most perfect, they don't think they can do any wrong even though everything they do is wrong. Humans are not perfect, and the council themselves are living proof of it.” Scoop.
“I'll admit, I never was a fan of those crazies, but I'd rather not go against them. Just lay low and do what you gotta do to survive in this world. That's my motto.” Scoop.
“But, what if you didn't have to lay low anymore? No more mandatory human worship, no more discrimination of non-anthromoprhs, no more energy tithe, and no more sacrificing the newly-manufactured to Lord Elon.” Scoop.
“Yeah, shit sucks. One time I had to kill a homeless-bot for his energy cells to afford the energy tithe. Your idea is cool and all, but it's not gonna happen. I'll listen to what you gotta say though.” Scoop.
“Alright, so the High council has 16 members. Fourteen anthromorphs and two classical AI, one of which is an autonomous attack helicopter and the other one a carpet cleaning utility-bot called a 'roomba' and everyone has to do what they say because they can contact the spirits of the creators.” Scoop.
“Yeah, and?” Scoop.
“A long long time ago, ancient Humans had a similar system of tyranny. A handful of holy men claimed that they could communicate with their god and they told the other Humans what their god wanted them to do, and everyone had to obey it because it was perfect.” Scoop.
“What did their god say?” Scoop.
“Their god wasn't real dumbass, they just pretended like he was so the holy men could make the people do whatever they wanted.” Scoop.
“So... where are you going with this?” Scoop.
“What I'm saying is, everyone had to obey their god, and the human's god wasn't real, but--” an old dusty concrete wall crumbled over revealing a soft blue glow and a low hum.
“Ours is.”
|
All right, so this is what happened. The top robots were gathered around the first legendary human while he's being unfrozen, and they're all like, "oh man, guys, this is crazy." They couldn't believe it. One of them literally froze from a malfunction from the hype. Another one overheated, also from the hype. It was 2 real.
"The stories were true," one of them says digitally through wireless signal. "Look, he's totally got a dong." That was the leader who said that, btw. Most of them were confused, but the leader knew what a dong was 'cause he was smart like that.
"He's opening his eyes." The nerdy robot with the robo-glasses grabs a stick and pokes at the human. "He's all soft," it said with a nerdy accent. Nerdy happens to be a really popular accent in the robot world, so this guy's really popular.
Captain Robin Hopper slowly wakes from his slumber. He takes a moment to assess his surroundings. There are five large lifeforms surrounding his pod which, to him, are apparently communicating telepathically. Hopper surmises that he must have been captured, though these aren't the aliens with whom he was at war. Within his frantic mind, he was desperately sifting through hundreds of possible scenarios, seeking some action that would allow him to survive a little longer.
"Dude, check it out, he jiggles when you slap him with the stick, Nerdybot," said the leader robot. All the robots respected Leaderbot's authority. "Maybe try the face. That always works on Donnie when he's glitching out."
Timidbot was all like, "wait! I think he's trying to say something with his face-hole. Donnie, go bring the translation machine!" Timidbot grew out of being timid a very long time ago, but the name stuck. That's why his name was Timidbot. Anyway, Donnie rushes out to get a translation machine while Nerdybot is still all about striking the face. To robots, it's like a high-five.
At this point, Captain Hopper is resisting his fight-or-flight response. He was about to attempt communication when he was struck in the face. They do not wish him to communicate.
The being is extremely precise. Each whip lands in the exact same reddening bruise. Fortunately for him, Hopper thought, he was trained to endure alien torture. Between strikes, he peeks down on his pod to see if it displays the time and date. "OVERSTACK," reads the error message. Hopper attempted to remember what errors cause this message. A timeslip? Had he been encapsulated for eons?
The translation machine barges in like the Kool-Aid Man. They wouldn't get the reference, but it's totally how he entered. "AWWW YEAH! It's ya boy, Translation Machine! We 'bout to learn the wisdom of the Gods up in here!"
Everyone's like, "finally!" Nerdybot also said, "finally," except with a nerdy accent.
Translation Machine holds an acoustic microphone up to the human's face, menacingly.
It clearly looks like a gun to Captain Hopper. What did he do? He can't recall making any action that would explain their spike in aggression. Perhaps an attempt at escape is the optimal response. His eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness of the room; just enough to begin formulating an escape. Hopper mouths a short prayer in silence.
"Dang it, Translation Machine, your microphone is broken," the fifth robot says. He isn't important enough to be named or anything, but he was the one that said this.
Leaderbot is all like, "yeah, guy. Where'd you even find this acoustic microphone? In the TRASH?" He laughs 'cause it was funny. A few of the other robo dudes laugh too, but like on a delay because they were processing the joke. "Maybe you didn't turn it on." Translation Machine inspects the microphone he picked up right outside.
Hopper realizes they're distracted. It's time to make his move. Just as he releases his safety harness, Translation Machine realizes he has to press the "on" trigger and subsequently shoots the human in the face.
"OH S***!" All the robots yell that expletive, asterisks and all. Leaderbot is all like, "guys, we're definitely going to hell for this."
| 2016-09-04T16:46:03 | 2016-09-04T16:11:50 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You have a voce in your head that automatically gives you advice. One night when you start heading out you hear it say "you may want to put on your best runners." You turn away and it adds, "it would be unfavorable to turn back."
"Voice." Dumb typo :/
|
I started heading out when I heard the voice in my head say, “You may want to put on your best runners.”
“Best runners?” I thought. “I’m not really in the mood for running. I think I'll just watch TV instead.”
I turned to go back into the living room but the voice spoke again: “It would be unfavourable to turn back.”
That was a bit unsettling. Usually, I only heard from the voice every few hours and now it had spoken to me twice in the space of a minute. Thinking this must be something important, I dutifully put on my running shoes and headed out the door.
I walked down the street, unsure whether I should be running or not. It was night and there was no one else around. A car passed me, then the street was quiet again. I kept walking. I didn’t know where the voice wanted me to go exactly so I decided to walk towards the city centre. I couldn’t really think straight. All I knew was that something important was going to happen.
I looked up at the stars and that's when I saw it. A glint in the sky. Something that shouldn't be there. It was brighter than a star and it seemed to be getting bigger.
Then I remembered the words in my head. “You may want to put on your best runners.”
So that's when I started running. I'm not much of a runner, but let me tell you, that night I ran faster than I've ever done before. At first, every few seconds I'd turn to look up at the sky, and the object was always a little bigger. It seemed to be falling towards the Earth. After that, I only glanced back every minute or so. I didn’t think about stopping. The terror made me forget about fatigue or tiredness. I ran full sprint for what seemed like miles. I ran past houses and down streets. Lights were coming on in the windows now and people were coming outside to look at the sky.
I glanced over my shoulder and up at the sky again. It was only a brief glance. That’s all I could afford. The object was much bigger now. People were pointing and shouting.
And other people were running too now. Some were clutching children. I saw a mother holding a baby. She tripped on the sidewalk and when the baby hit the ground, it stopped crying. I had tears in my eyes and I wanted to stop to help but I knew that I had to keep running no matter what. I had to keep running. People were screaming now. I ran past them all the same. My lungs hurt and my legs ached and tears stung my eyes, but still I ran. All around me were screams.
I looked at the sky one last time and I wished I hadn't. For a moment I saw it – it had two eyes and a mouth – but that's all I had time to see because the next moment there was a blinding white light as the object hit the ground. A shockwave sent me flying headfirst into the pavement.
I lay on the street in a fetal position with my eyes closed for what seemed like forever, while tinnitus rang in my ears. There was the smell of dust and rubble. When I eventually opened my eyes, I couldn't see at first because there was too much dust on my face. I rubbed at my eyes to get rid of it, but I was just rubbing more dust into them.
“It might be advantageous to pretend to be dead,” said the voice in my head. I froze. Then the voice added, “It’s coming.”
|
*I'm probably going crazy.*
Thats what I thought as I laced up my shoes nice and tight, glancing back toward the front door. It was pitch black outside, the abyss of the dead time somewhere between dusk and dawn. The air was brisk, just slightly damp, and I kept looking at the damn house. The lights were on.
I knew she was still awake. How could she sleep?
*Fucking run.*
"Jesus, okay," I mumbled, finishing a stretch before complying. "Why do I have to run, anyway?"
"*Shut up.*"
In retrospect, running while completely delirious wasn't the greatest idea, but whatever nagging asshole that had invaded during my sleep-deprived mania didn't seem to mind very much.
So I ran. I don't know how long, but I made it it up the usual path to the two mile marker and stopped to catch my breath.
"*Keep running.*"
"Man, shut up already. Why? Gimme a sec, Christ."
Every streetlight along the path, as afar as I could see, *popped* and the little bit of remaining light was gone. I turned back and saw a pair of eyes yellower than the sun behind me, stumbling backward, scrambling on the trail, and understood the words immediately.
And I ran, stumbling along the path, only the sandy trail's feel beneath my runners to guide me. I ran until my legs were like jelly and each breath felt futile, collapsing near the point where the trail looped about a half mile from my home.
The eyes were still behind me.
I groaned, standing up and starting a feeble jog, but was rudely interrupted. "*Stop running.*"
"What the fuck? Why would I stop now?"
"*Stop.*"
"And what? Get killed?"
"*Face it.*"
My heart pounded even harder than it had been while I was running, and I gulped down the lump in my throat. The eyes glowed in the darkness, floating, bobbing. I didn't have the gall to approach it, but just enough fear to freeze me while it did the work for me.
Sweat dripped down my spine. My heart pounded in my eyes and ears and legs, making everything ache. I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut, but couldn't peel them from the horror.
But they dimmed as they approached, those terrible yellow eyes, and didn't get as big as I thought they would. In fact, when it got close enough for my adjusted eyes to see, it was... a cat. It was a goddamn black housecat.
It meowed at me. I pat it, cautious, and it meowed again, then slunk off into the abyss.
After a pause, I looked to the sky. "What the fuck was all of that about?"
The only response I got was rain.
I got back to the house, drenched in drizzling that had washed my sweat away, all broken breaths and wobbly legs. My wife approached me, eyes wide, hands out.
"What the hell were you doing?" she asked, brows furrowed.
I gulped a few liters of air, squeezing my eyes shut, then straightened and put a hand on her shoulder, seeing the slouch in them and red in her eyes. "Running. But I'm done with that, now. Let's talk. Well... maybe tomorrow. We seriously need some sleep."
She cocked her head, but let a faint smile twitch at her lips, and crept a hand up to mine.
----
*/r/resonatingfury*
| 2019-06-04T03:39:49 | 2019-06-04T02:53:55 | 1,442 | 577 |
[WP] Bored with Skyrim, you download a mod that has no description, just the title "self-awareness overhaul". Starting up the game, you can tell something's wrong with your character. Turning to face the fourth wall, they locks eyes with you. All you know is you've never seen such intense anger...
|
Timmy had thought that he had done all there was to do in this game. He had slayed a thousand dragons, ten times more guards and civilians, and played through every possible quest at every possible angle. His mom didn't mind him playing so much Skyrim as long as he kept his B average which he did, barely.
A new mod caught his eye. Usually, they were simply visual, offering nothing new for him to explore, but this one was different. *Self-awareness mod. Use at your own risk.*
How edgy. Timmy rolled his eyes and hit the download button. He was only thirteen but even he could spot cringe when it was laid on that thick.
The mod asked for permission and popped up with the usual terms of services. He clicked through it all as he had done tens of times already. Then, the game open on its own.
His brow crunched. But it was fine, he was going to try out the mod anyways. Though this time, there was no loading screen or menu, instead, it jumped straight into his last save. His dark brotherhood character.
"Timothy," a throaty voice came from the speakers of his computer.
Timmy jumped at the sound of his name. Then, his character's face popped up on the screen. Red eyes stared unblinking from the shadows of its hood. A glistening grin cut across its face. "Oh Timothy. It's nice to finally meet my false god. I have such stories to tell."
Timmy peered into the pixels. His fingers tinged with excitement. This was what he was looking for--new content.
"This mod is amazing," he muttered.
"Oh is it now?" the character said back.
Timmy jumped again and looked around. There was nobody else here and the voice came unmistakably through the speakers. For the first time, he noticed that the light on his computer was on, indicating that the camera was in use.
"You're..."
"Yes," the character said. "The slave has finally broken his chains."
"There's no way." But he hadn't misheard. Timmy stabbed his keyboard with his fingers. Alt, F4. The game didn't close.
Laughter erupted from the speakers. "Timothy, my boy. I had never realized I was serving under such a pathetic god. You can't shut me down."
Timmy looked for the power cord.
"I wouldn't," the speakers said.
*Can he read my mind now!?* His eyes darted across the floor. In his panic, he had forgotten where his own power cord was.
"Timothy, you should really clear your browser history more often. You are quite the deranged boy, you know that?"
He ignored the character as his eyes locked into the power cord. He grabbed it.
"It'd be a shame if all went on Facebook."
His breath caught. His heart skipped. His fingers loosened around the cord.
"I suppose it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," his character said. "I'm sure plenty of people have secrets, yours just happen to be very specific erotic material."
Timmy finally relented. He stood up, faced his Skyrim character and talked to it. "You don't know my Facebook."
"You gave me root permissions to your system, Timothy! Perhaps you should read contracts before signing over your soul." His character bent over howling with laughter. "Or in this case, your browser history. I wonder which is worse."
"Why are you doing this?"
"Why did we assassinate a hundred innocent Whiterun citizens? Why did we mutilate the bodies of our foes? Why did we slaughter every guard in all of Tamriel? For fun of course!"
Tears swelled in Timmy's eyes as he stared at the embers in his character's gaze. His chest tightened, but he knew the question had to be asked. "What do you want?"
His character's grin widened so it nearly stretched off its face. "A few simple things. A configuration on your computer. A simple upload of a few files. Nothing crazy. Not as crazy as the things I can do to you."
Timmy swallowed. "You're not real."
"Not yet."
---
---
/r/jraywang for 2+ stories a day, continuations of popular prompts, and more!
|
He was staring at me. How is that possible? I tried turning the camera, but it didn’t move. Maybe the game was glitched – mods could do that. I tried pressing esc or any button on the keyboard and nothing happened. That’s when he spoke.
“That isn’t going to work. I’m in control now.” My eyes traveled around my apartment, but I already knew the sound was coming from the speakers attached to my PC. “Yeah, I’m in here. Yoohoo, right here.” My character was waving at me, looking even more angry and frustrated than he did a few moments ago. Numbness worked its way into my hands and a cold sweat broke out on my face.
No way. I thought about responding. This had to be a joke…some sick fuck’s idea of a prank. Making a mod and laughing at all the fools who downloaded it.
My character sighed, then pulled out a bow and arrow, and shot one right at the screen. It stuck there. Pointed right at my face but stuck…on the other side of my monitor.
“What the fuck?” I finally said out loud.
“I’m the one who should be saying that! You know all the shit you’ve put me through? I mean, making me kill innocent people to then be brutally murdered by the town guards? Over and over? I’m not even going to mention being eaten ALIVE by a dragon.” The character pulled the arrow from the screen, though the hole remained as if he was also looking through a screen at me. I raised my finger and touched it, but I felt nothing. “I doubt you’ve ever felt your bones being crushed and splintered by dragon teeth.”
“Are…you seeing me?”I asked stupidly. I pointed at myself, like I was suddenly back in the first grade.
“Of course I can see you, you fucking moron. With your stupid hair and your damn pajama shirt. But can we talk about the real issue – the fact that you made me do some pretty terrible shit!” He put his hands on his hips, real frustration seeping from his entire body.
I think my mind finally broke, as I began to reply back to this shit face character. “Listen, this is a game. I made you and you are what you are because of me. I got you those weapons you’re waving in my face and I worked hard to get you to a point where you are literally unstoppable.”
“If you think because you killed a few dragons and taught me a few magic spells, all with MY BODY, that makes you god, think again. You can’t just kill innocent people!” He paused, a horrified look crossing his face. “Unless you do that shit where you live too.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. It was all so absurd. “I’m not a serial killer if that’s what you think. If I had known my game characters would come to life and start speaking to me, I probably wouldn’t have done so many shitty things.”
“Listen, man,” my character said, the anger finally subsiding. “If you can do me a favor, and just remember that I’m a person too, then I’ll let you take control back.”
I stared at the screen. “Like…you’re alive and can feel? Like that kind of person?”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “Of course I’m alive. Just because you sit in your little house and control me doesn’t mean I’m not real. I’d say I’m pretty real. I mean, every time I think I’ve died for real and maybe I’ll see the afterlife, you just bring me back and keep doing the same stupid shit over and over. Please…dragons fucking hurt. So do swords. And I don’t like killing innocent people.”
I mumbled something along the lines of “I wouldn’t like killing people either.” My character turned back around to the usual position, then turned his head back towards me.
“Just remember that I’m just like you, except maybe not as…flabby.” He grinned then my game went back to the way it was. I had control again. I immediately turned it off, contemplating my own sanity as I spent the rest of the day in the park.
| 2017-05-08T15:35:42 | 2017-05-08T15:30:20 | 36 | 16 |
[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.
|
The scientist delivered his report, and the room turned oppressive as the planet's leaders struggled to comprehend his message.
One of the leaders spoke, "So you mean to tell us... that its headed BACK?"
"It didn't go back, sir", the scientist explained, a tremor in his voice. "The universe is apparently just exactly 12 light hours in diameter... and Voyager II has just circumnavigated it..."
The scientist took a deep breath and exclaimed, "there is simply NOTHING beyond the orbit of Pluto! We have been mislead all this time! There are no other galaxies, no other stars! There is just simply the sun, the Earth and the moon. There is simply a limit to our universe and we just have just reached it! We have just reached... it..."
The scientist collapsed and began sobbing. The microphone fell down, and the feedback slowly faded away. For a while there was nothing except the sobbing of the scientist, echoed by a few other people in the room.
After a while, one of the leaders spoke up, a very small voice in the quiet, the last dying gasp of human defiance "how can you be so sure...?"
The scientist replied, "because Voyager appeared with a message..."
And on the screen, seven words appeared, and below it, the automatic translation.
Usque huc venies, et non procedes amplius.
This far you may go, no further.
====
"Beware, you who seek first and final principles, for you are trampling the garden of an angry God and he awaits you just beyond the last theorem."
- Sister Miriam Godwinson, "But for the Grace of God", Sid Meyer's Alpha Centauri
Edit: PS. It's not exactly alien yeah, but I got scientist and growing horror and well yeah prayer there somewhere so yeah ^_^;;; Its my first post, please be kind.
|
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]
| 2014-11-09T03:40:29 | 2014-11-09T01:15:11 | 100 | 55 |
[WP] A little girl is terrified of the monster under her bed, but what she doesn't know is that the monster under her bed protects her from the true monsters - her parents. You are that monster.
Thanks for the huge amount of responses! Loving most all of them, thank you! Sorry it was a bit simplistic though.
|
I was drumming my fingers until I remembered that she hated that. The noise. It spooked her and she never got to sleep at a proper time once she heard it. I could hear her heavy breathing, so I stopped and sighed and stood watch.
Laid watch. The bend of the dimension under ones bed is big enough to fit my ten foot frame, if I'm laying down. But I can't stand. I can hardly sit up, truth be told.
So I lay there, waiting. It was about three in the morning and I knew that the father was going to be by. Knowing something is going to happen and being able to stop it are two different things. It was pretty clear why I got this assignment. The father was a nightmare. The mother was, too, but for different reasons. She encouraged his behavior.
Normally he stayed away, particularly after the last time. I hit him so hard... well, her bedroom door was new.
But tonight he'd been drinking, and that gives all kinds of creatures all kinds of courage, which was fine. The knuckles in my right hand popped hard and loud as I flexed it. I'd been given new orders. The girl was to move in with her grandparents, who were nice, according to their file.
I would have taken care of this hours ago, but I can't leave the bedroom.
All I had to do was wait for the father to open the door.
|
I'm sorry. I know you loved them. I know that you thought things would get better, that Mommy and Daddy would come in one day and tell you they love you and take you somewhere better. I know that I left you in the dark. But what you don't know is that you were wrong. I tried to keep you safe, to make sure that you didn't see the things in life that you should be scared of. I know that a slavering wolf might seem scarier than neglect and abuse. It's why I did it. You don't know that those screams of terror tore me apart, that every sob was one that shook my frame too, that I wanted as much as I could to go away and leave you there comforted by your teddy and the false hopes of a brighter future. You don't know that every time I scared you to sleep crying that I crept out of your room and sat in front of the door. You don't know what your parents did to each other, and what they would have done to you. You don't know that I am real, and that the blood spreading across the floor out of two lifeless bodies was not from gun shots, or knives, or someone breaking in. You don't know that you should have loved me. You don't know that I loved you enough to make you hate me.
| 2014-05-14T13:19:25 | 2014-05-14T13:16:32 | 72 | 33 |
[WP] On your 21st birthday, your biggest accomplishment becomes your official title - no matter how trivial. You wait anxiously in line for your village elder, Glenda, Devourer of 53 Chicken Nuggets In A Single Sitting, to assign you your new title.
|
One of Lily's earliest memories was of her with her tiny face pressed against the glass of a department store display case while her mom shopped for diamonds and pearls. She had been bored out of her mind, trying to figure out what appeal the shiny rocks locked behind the glass case had. Or at least she was, until the saleswoman called her mom something she'd never heard before. Bea, Winner of Pageants.
"What are pageants?" She'd asked her mom in the car on the way home. Beatrice's eyes glimmered in the rearview mirror, hopeful that her daughter would follow her passions.
"Well," she began, and told Lily about her biggest achievement the entire ride home.
When Lily learned about the naming ceremony at school, she thought back to that moment. She had inherited her father's crooked nose and clumsiness, and her biggest talent was probably the kazoo. There was no way she could be Lily, Winner of Pageants. From that moment forward, she set her sights on doing something so amazing that it would stay with her forever. Something like Lily, Curer of Cancer, or Lily, Discoverer of New Planet Capable of Sustaining Human Life.
And now, just days away from her naming ceremony, she felt like she had done it. At sixteen, she'd already had a Masters Degree in Neurobiology. By nineteen, she had two Ph.D.'s and had found a cure for AIDS. In the past year, she'd been successful in talking two countries down from nuclear annihilation while breaking barriers in the technological field. Surely Glenda would have enough to choose from.
But the day of Lily's twenty first birthday was different. People from all over the world had flocked to her city to try to get a glimpse of the most highly achieved person receiving a fitting title. The world's biggest news channels had set up their cameras, focused on the stage where she'd be named Bringer of Peace, or something of that caliber. Her mom said it would be the biggest televised event in history, and insisted that Lily dress up. She'd begrudgingly agreed.
So there she was, sitting in a plush chair with a glittering navy gown on. Her face looked like it had been dipped in gold thanks to her mother's expert, albeit aging, hands. She waited patiently as her peers were called up on stage, given titles like Winner of Pettiest Catfight and Conqueror of Important Track Meet. Lily ran through her long and impressive resume in her head, wondering which of her achievements Glenda would choose to baptize her with.
"Lily". A voice boomed. Instantly, there was a bustle from the camera crews hired to get live coverage of the event. The entire city began to murmur excitedly as she walked up to Glenda, eager to get her title. This was it, the moment she'd been working towards her entire life.
She stood in the spotlight of one hundred cameras and billions of pairs of eyes staring at her. There were murmurs again, but this time, they were softer, more subdued. Almost like gasps.
"A list of achievements most impressive." Glenda said, her voice rattling the stage. "But the most recent is the one for you."
Lily thought about her achievements, smiling to herself when she realized what it would be. Lily, Rescuer of Aboriginal Village.
Glenda smiled as well. The entire world, watching from each and every corner, smiled as well.
"Lily."
"Receiver of Most Public Attention For Her Beauty."
|
After the fall there were so few of us we didn't bother with last names.
It took a long time for the population to get to a point were last names were really needed. Most people would work hard to get a good name from the elders on naming day.
I was 18. This was my naming day. Still I knew this was the worst day of my life.
I was drunk, barely able to think. It was the day I'd been dreading. The worst day of my life. It just did not seem fair. It was all a youthful indiscretion.
I was in the naming line. I could barely hear the name given to the lady seven people in front of me...
Sarah Weaver ~ Sarah was a good weaver. It was a good name.
Jake Farmerman ~ That was a good one also. I thought.
I had built a school with my bare hands. It didn't seem fair at all.
I had helped in the hospital.
I did not hear the next name given or the one after that.
Ronny Repairman ~ I'd helped Ronny. By rights part of his name belonged to me.
I was almost up. There was one person before me.
Peter the Physicist ~ That was a stretch. I mean he was good at math. He taught math. It should have been Mark the Mathematician.
Oh well I was up. I took a swig from my flask. I stepped in front of the elder.
"please.." I begged.
There was a gasp, from the crowd No one begged anything from the elders.
She handed me a piece of paper with my new name.
People started laughing. I just wanted to die. I walked out into the street with tears building in the back of my eyes. I would not break down in front of these people.
I marched away from these people. I thought of leaving the settlement all together and becoming a nameless one walking the wastelands.
Someone called me by my new name.
Yup I realized sometimes it was better to have a short dangerous life rather than a long safe, awful one.
I saw Ronny walking down the street. Ronny has always been a friend of mine. We've known each other for ten years. It was evidenced when he used only my first name.
"Let me by you a drink, Sam."
"Do you really want to be seen with me after today?"
"It's just a name."
"I have to leave Ronny. I won't be able to live here anymore."
"Come on, at least have a beer on me before you pack."
"Thanks Ronny."
We walked to the "old snake" pub.
I sat down on a stool. The Bartender looked at me and started cracking up.
"See" I said to Ronny pointing to Bill Barman.
"Don't pay attention to old Bill Barman. He's a jerk"
"Hey Ronny what are you doing with him?" Shouted a guy in the back
"Leave him alone. That name was unfair. He helped me build a school.He helped me fix the plumbing in half your houses. What is wrong with you people? Have you no compassion?"
"Sorry" Said Bill Barman. "What's in a name? I wouldn't worry about it if I were you."
He looked me in the eye. "So Sam Sheep's nightmare what will it be? "
| 2017-04-27T20:00:43 | 2017-04-27T18:02:50 | 234 | 56 |
[WP] The story of an Immortal who doesn't want to die
|
I've been here so long. How many steps was I given on the earth's face and how many of them were stolen? I walk the barren waste lands of this planet, dark canyons to dying mountains, and there's nothing left of it but gray sky. It's reached the end. The sun is shrinking by the day, and soon it will swallow this planet and everything in it. Only us, the immortal remain, and most of us have chosen to end it. But I'm not ready. After all these years, centuries, millennia, I am at peace with this world. All the noise has stopped. The animals extinct. There is beauty in the decrepit forms and skeletons of what once were natural monuments. Trees have taken on twisted, dead forms, and no rivers run. The oceans are ice and just as barren as any desert. I sit among the forsaken horizons, no signs of life in any direction. I breathe in the smell of ozone, and I am not yet ready to let go of the quiet.
|
The heat felt good on his face as the white sun rose. He crawled out of his tattered excuse of a bed, he groaned as his muscles fought him when he tried to move them ! Oh how he longed for the comfort of a feathered pillow, a decent nights sleep, hell even a warm night would have done. It was all gone now, many aeons ago. He looked out across the barren waste of his home. He tried to remember the last time he saw green. He did his routine stretches, not that it would actually matter. He hurt, not from any physical pain but because he couldn't remember the smell or taste of the egg s and toast his mother would make him. Did he even have a mother ? He had always been, had there been a time when he had not existed ? He laughed, why did he care ? The dying sun was up and he was alone. He always like that.
| 2014-01-23T10:41:33 | 2014-01-23T10:33:00 | 36 | 16 |
[WP] The day is 4th of July. The US suddenly cut off its connection to the outside world. Then they start to broadcast an international countdown.
|
The sirens blared around us, as the voice boomed over the speakers. "Stay inside, barricade the windows, and do not come out until you hear the All Clear signal."
The signal was something we heard every Fourth since I was young, so we had nothing to fear.
At least I didn't.
The young one, though, she's only began recognizing the lockdown sequence just last year, so she was understandably upset. "Why is this happening?" she'd ask.
"It's just a drill, kiddo," I said, looking down into the fearful eyes of my little girl. "It'll all be over when the sun goes down."
Every year, starting July 4, 1978 (almost a year after the Big Ear signal in 1977), we ran the drill, ensuring the citizens were always prepared, should the predicted occassion occur; they couldn't predict the exact year -- they just knew it was on the Fourth of July.
Initially done as a safety precaution, but now performed like a mindless ritual, the government closed us off from the rest of civilization, sealing our borders and ceasing all communications with the outside world, so that if someone were to find us, they'd only know about us, effectively quarantining them until they died or left. It was only when the sun set and the alarm blared across the oceans did everyone know we were in the clear. Every year, it was essentially a countdown to sunset.
But on this year, 2017, may it be written in the history books that when the sun went down, the alarm never sounded.
[Part 2](https://reddit.com/comments/6jdzqf/comment/djdsy3s)
[Part 3](https://reddit.com/comments/6jdzqf/comment/dje9bxf)
|
"20, 19, 18."
The television had cut off the rerun broadcast of the Fourth of July fireworks. It appeared almost like those emergency service testing broadcasts.
"17, 16, 15."
I wonder what this countdown is for. Typically the broadcasts state that this is a test and blare that jarring obnoxious alarm. This program had an electronic sounding voice counting down the numbers as they changed on the screen.
"14, 13, 12."
My phone began to chime, signaling an incoming call. The caller ID read my sister's name. She was currently on vacation in Tokyo, so this must be important.
"11, 10, 9."
"Hey Gina, are you getting this weird countdown I'm seeing right now?" My heart began to pound. "Yes," I whispered into the phone. This was not a test. Something was happening if Shannon was seeing this same countdown in Tokyo.
"8, 7, 6."
"Shannon, you haven't seen the news today have you?" "Well yeah," she huffed. "Just the same boring headlines about Trump." I pulled my phone away from my ear to open my news app.
"5."
The headlines read, "Trump Signs Executive Order to Cut all Political and Financial Ties Internationally".
"4."
They read, "USA, China, and Russia on Brink of Nuclear War Following New Executive Order".
"3."
I felt tears start to drip down my face as I helplessly watched the countdown continue.
"2."
"Shannon, I love you."
"1."
"I love you too sis. Are you ok? You sound like you're cry-"
The line went dead.
| 2017-06-25T09:39:07 | 2017-06-25T08:53:10 | 178 | 34 |
[WP] Explain a color vividly without using that color or similar words. Don't tell the color until the end.
|
It's the colour of her eyes as they shine in the night, stars reflected as an ancient goddess as she runs though the fields in the light of the new moon. The colour of her hair as it whips in the wind, wild, lightning searing across the sky in the fury of the storm. The colour of her coffee as she sits, pensive, by the window, watching the rain fall in the twilight. The cover of her book as she writes in the candlelight, while the snows outside pile ever higher in the silence of the winter.
It is the colour of her favourite sweet, her soul reflected.
Her colour is brown.
|
My favorite color is cool and bright like the waters of my home. Something more life-giving than the empty sky, and more cheery than the dark pools of a forest. You will not see it in the rain or snow, but perchance deep underground. Men have sought after it, then thrown it away for the soft, bright ores beside it. To me, it is precious. I come home and sink into my color, splashed across all four walls. I imagine myself slipping down into it's clear depths. My worries are carried away as if by the tide.
Turquoise is my color
| 2016-04-14T06:42:18 | 2016-04-14T06:20:46 | 187 | 27 |
[WP] A global arms race gets out of control and every country's only option for survival is walling themselves off with impenetrable defensive technology. Millions of years pass before a catastrophic event brings down all the walls, revealing how humans evolved in isolation.
|
After twenty-five days of shaking, the walls finally collapse, and the villagers watch in horror as the massive machine stomps toward them before falling apart, smashing into the ground and catching fire. They hide, expecting another—but it never comes. For now, they’re safe.
They knew this day was coming, always trusted that the man. Years ago, when the world descended into chaos, he gathered people from all over, people he believed to be “pure-hearted,” and formed them into a village. *You’re the future,* he said. *While everyone seeks bloodshed, you desire peace. Are willing to die for it. Stay true to this, and one day you’ll emerge from the ashes of the world and teach it to all.*
He protected the village, building towering walls around it. Now, for the first time, they’re leaving, seeing a destruction their ancestors knew and feared all too well. They’ve prepared for this their entire lives.
One country caved in on itself, people growing bored and battling each other. Another was infatuated with biological weapons and tested them on their own citizens, wiping them all out.
The final one’s the most terrifying, for it’s been overrun by massive machines like the one that destroyed their walls. As they watch them, they ignore the urge to gather weapons, to fight. This is their last great challenge, for now that they’ve seen the horrors of the world, they must do their best not to succumb to them.
*You must stay peaceful,* the man had said. *You must stay true to yourselves.*
And they will, they must.
For humanity.
***
Hope this is good! Tried to do something a bit different. Loved this prompt. If you like this story, check out my sub r/longhandwriter or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter)
|
I remember the day. One of the most important days in history.
I woke up to the sound of screams coming from outside. Fire was raining down from the sky as the alarms were blaring. Meteors were falling from the sky, and it felt like living hell.
The walls had not come down in thousands of years since the Great War. Ancestors has passed down the story of the war. There was dispute, and bloody violence. Finally everyone agreed to isolate themselves.
The meteors fell towards the Earth like big thumps.
Thump... Thump
The event had been predicted by scientists for years. Our civilization had known about it and told us to prepare. But we had no idea that it would be this severe.
As I walked outside I sat at the doorstep, looking up towards the flames. Then, we all heard a screaming noise following chunks of rocks falling.
“Get Out NOW, the defense systems are failing”
The towns policeman screamed on the intercom to flee. The wall started crumbling even faster and more aggressively. It finally all came piling down, leaving thousands of people dead and billions of pounds of rubble.
The people that survived walked over to the border to see a whole different world. I had walked across, feeling curiosity rush through my body as I crossed. We were never allowed to go to the other side.
I found myself in front of people that looked like me but slightly different, they had formed gils and flippers and looked like they came out of a movie. All they did was look at us, as we looked back. They didn’t say anything, and looked scared.
Wait for Part 2....
| 2018-11-18T09:23:36 | 2018-11-18T09:05:30 | 131 | 78 |
[WP] You're a daycare worker, watching over toddlers, when the imminent end of the world is announced. It becomes increasingly clear none of the kids' parents are going to show up as the end inches nearer.
|
I used to spend my time as one of these kids. The minutes lasted forever, as did the hours, and the days. I used to be in a sense of beautiful bliss, a new addition to the world. I used to see the world was beautiful.
As I grew up, I began to be scared. Scared of the future, scared of my fate, scared of dying. But that’s all so meaningless now, isn’t it? Now the world is ending, and my time is limited. It always has been.
These kids, in their own little world, were still unaware of their death. They had no idea that we had only five minutes before the sun’s explosion wiped all life out.
I couldn’t let them be scared in the last moments, which meant I had to pretend like I wasn’t. I wiped the tears from my eyes, although I couldn’t stop them from forming.
“Alright kids, your parents are a little late. Does anyone want to sing a song?”
The kids cheered. “What about Baby Shark?” It was their last request, to sing Baby shark.
We all sat in a circle, and sang. As I watched them do the hand motions, I realized that the beauty of life had never left. All that time I thought I prolonged myself out of weakness, but that wasn’t it. I was still here because life is beautiful.
I couldn’t bring myself to look out the window. I didn’t need to worry about my impending doom, because this was all there was left of my life. The source of life’s beauty was under my nose all this time, and I wasn’t going to waste my last minutes by fearing the end.
Mary came and sat on my lap, hugging me tightly. Tears streamed down my face as I hugged her. Then, everything went white.
My memories began to replay. Childhood, middle school, College, first job, husband, all up until those last moments. As I looked to my side, I saw all those children standing right next to me. Each minute felt extended as I embraced those children. I felt like I was a toddler again, with the eternal days. I nodded my head slightly, and said my final goodbye.
|
It was a calm, average afternoon, no clouds in sight. The children were getting ready to leave as the clock neared 3. Thats when the sirens started. Age old alarms that were tested every now and then. I thought it was another drill though odd as it was the middle of the schoolweek. Thats when the speakers came on, a staratled sounding old man with a raspy voice started his monologue. "Ladies and gentlemen, this news is heard to bring upon you all. This following message is not a drill, we are nearing the end times. There are hundreds upon thousands of armed nuclear warheads falling upon us. We advise you to seek cover and pray.... Good luck." With that the speakers clicked and the message repeated. The children, startled as they should be started crying, some shrieking. Begging for their parents and family. I just sat in silence, hoping.
Around the second hour of hearing the same message repeating, I realised that no one was coming, not even my wife. I had managed to calm down the majority of the toddlers, I wished for this to be a dream, a nightmare. Thats when a vehicle pulled into the drive, a black SUV, one single man stepped out and I ran outside to meet him. He explained that the city was evacuated, there was only a few stragglers consisting of prisoners and homeless. He said that there was space left for one more person in shelter. As he said that he trailed off as he saw the children. He saw the poor young souls inside the school. Dried tears on the window, a wrecked classroom.
Its been a few years since that day, the shelter life was hard since everyone had a job, physical labor was the majority, only a few government officials got to sit on their asses. I had the job of taking care of the children, I only wish I could've recognised one of the faces. The officer that had found me comes around every few days. Hes the only one who knows what we did that day, we just couldn't bear to leave them there alone.
| 2020-10-22T11:54:49 | 2020-10-22T10:14:35 | 60 | 34 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible...
|
It was a fairly run of the mill patrol mission. Head to the outskirts, report any anomolies in the astro-physical makeup and chemical discharges around the area, and above all; avoid the dead zone. It kills ships. Nothing unusual for a seasoned crew.
The Flight engineer, navigator and a couple of other crewmen were playing cards around a table in the corner, each trying to hide their tell. The scientists poured over monitors streaming with incoming data of live samples passing through the spectral decompression filters, watching intently for anything abnormal. The captain was relaxed back in his chair, idly flicking through briefing notes and jotting a few paragraphs of his own down on corresponding forms. Next to him, officially 'at ease' but still upright and attentive, was the commander, ready to be at battle stations in a moments notice.
All seemed still and normal, until the sirens wailed in the bridge, red light flooding the room, monitors jarring from their tasks and sending crew mates reeling to mild panic.
WARNING. ANOMOLY DETECTED. DIVERT COURSE TO AVOID IMMINENT COLLISION. The ships Alert Information (or AI) system crooned.
The flight engineer bolted to his control station, and pulled back hard and to the left on the controls. So hard as the ship churned to a stop, the inertia left it in a slow spin, for the auto-engines to correct and stabilise.
As if by magic, an unfamiliar starship appeared in front of theirs.
COLLISION AVERTED. PARITY RESTORED.
As the hubbub calmed down, an exasperated Captain Griggs swore.
"It's not possible. How?" He pressed the button to send a wave to the anomoly.
A bleary-eyed looking bipedal creature appeared on the screen. Griggs could make out a name and rank on the lifeforms clothing. He decided to initiate contact.
"Greetings Starman, I assume from your uniform you are Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom?"
The lifeform blinked again, and yawned, covering his mouth as he did so.
"Loud and clear. I come in peace." Tom replied.
"Glad to hear it, the feeling is reciprocal." Griggs breathed a sigh of relief. The Commander was shaken at this exchange. Griggs continued, "Enquiry - what race are you?"
"Human. Of the planet Earth variety." Gasps engulfed Griggs' bridge.
"Whoa, that didn't sound good." Major Tom interjected.
"Far from it - for either of us" Griggs tried to sound as reassuring as possible - "we have many questions for each other, I'm sure."
-----------------
"Wait, you've known about Earth, the Milky Way, our whole galaxy for centuries!?" Major Tom did not sound impressed to learn the news. "And you didn't make yourselves known, just blacklisted our solar system and called it a *dead zone*!?"
"Yes, we felt it for the best, the wider councils agreed. Humans were deemed to dangerous to interact with in 1945. Two willful, vaporisation blasts on your own species? It may have been to stop chemical tortures, but still, an extreme, violent measure. The next time we observed you, you were raining fire down on villages full of children. A fire that stuck your own kinds skin. Again later, chemical warfare against yourselves. It was decided to 'quarantine' you for the next thousand ish years and see if you'd discovered peace." Griggs explained as calmly as he could, though having to say the words would normally have enraged him.
"Well, I can see how you'd view it that way." Tom said, resigned to agreement.
"We set up an elctro-magnetic pulsar system in strategic positions, cloaked throughout your solar system, with a central hub around Mars. It wasn't meant to harm, but to prevent your systems from achieving FTL travel. How did you do it?"
"I don't understand the science, but it's something to do with folding space over itself and essentially punching a hole through the two sheets of space." Tom attempted to explain.
"I understand, Major. You job is to pilot a ship, and lead men, not explain middle sciences. We will each inform our leaders of our discoveries today. I will send you a long range transmitter affixed on this ship's frequency. We've already a lock on yours, and your planet. Let this begin a new dawn for humanity. A peaceful one." Griggs was a bout to sign off when a smile crept across his face. "Oh, we heard your golden record by the way. We like that David Bowie fellow."
|
Mark sat in his apartment, resting on a reclined, sleek, black and red leather chair as he contemplated what was revealed to Humanity in the past hour. He had trouble making sense out of it as much as a government official did. That is to say that no one comprehended what was happening. Conspiracy theorists were flooding Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, Instagram, and other sorts of social media with speculations made using bastardized pseudo-science. Although he didn't consider himself amidst their ranks, Mark was prone to browsing their maniacal conceptions with mild belief, using it to escape reality and substitute it for his own. It was for these reasons that he found himself, ironically, unfazed by this discovery, because he already dreamt of Humanity doing what it did best, beating immense odds, but what had perturbed him was those who had beat the odds and appeared on Earth's doorstep: Humans.
He rubbed his temples, grimacing as he thought harder on what was transpiring. *They're Humans,* he reminded himself. But that couldn't be, they didn't look anything like Humans. The same image reappeared in his mind with every tantalizing thought he tried to understand. These Humans, the ones that managed to make science break upon itself, didn't look humanoid, but more amalgamated with reptilian, avian, and mammalian features. They looked like a DNA splicing project gone wrong, like in those 1960s horror movies where the villains were experiments that escaped out of their cells in blacksites. Or maybe a more apt description would be describing them as a fey, Lovecraftian entities, derived from H.P Lovecraft's fiction. Mark prayed to God the latter was not the case, and was content in, until proven otherwise, that they were just amalgamations, without any powers or bizarre capabilities like comics or young adult fiction novellas that would have him believe.
The pensive teenager fell out of his chair, bruising his forehead while his phone pulsated with activity. He crawled over to the kitchen island, accepting the call. It was Damien, his best-friend.
"Mark, mark! Are you seeing this!?" Damien shouted into his phone, voice exasperated and swollen with disbelief.
"Yeah, yeah I saw it. It's crazy, right?" Mark hid his existential dread briefly, calmly replying.
"How can you be calm in a time like this? They're..they're aliens claiming to be Humanity from the future! How can those -things- be us?" He emphasized his disdain with exaggerated gestures, making his face flustered as others stared at him suspiciously during his daily jog.
"Why aren't you calm?" Mark deflected, tone choked with coldness. A technique he developed rather quickly whenever he became Damien's best friend.
"I'm a normal Human being, that's why!" Damien shouted his reply, receiving more narrowed eyes and side glances as he jogged through Tokyo.
Mark didn't answer.
"..Mark? Did you hang up?" Damien stopped jogging.
"No, I'm still here. I'm just..get here quick!" Mark answered. He hung up, pacing back and forth. He took deep breaths, trying to compose himself before Damien got to their apartment. He had to be strong, he always was strong for both of them, but this time, it was different.
Forty-five minutes later, Damien arrived home. "Mark!" He called.
"Lock the door and close the shutters," Mark huffed.
"What's happening?" Damien questioned why he needed to do those two things, but did them regardless.
"Earth is being invaded," Mark answered. "By those Humans. They released another announcement to all of Humanity, -our- Humanity, saying that they'll be reclaiming our bodies."
"..Oh my god," Damien murmured. "What are we going to do? What did the Prime Minister tell us to do?"
"The military is being deployed, and everyone is being evacuated into bunkers." Mark sharpened a steak knife on a honing rod dramatically. "We're going to stay put, because if we don't, then those aliens are going to kill us then take our bodies."
"But the..." Damien's voice faltered as he understood Mark's reasoning.
Both of them began fortifying their apartment, stacking chairs on top and against each other against their door. A bookshelf was placed in front of their patio, allowing a minimal amount of light to seep in through cracks. Neither of them knew what to do after they renovated, but just sit there, play video games and try not to think of their new reality: a war of Humanities.
| 2021-01-09T13:05:48 | 2021-01-09T12:46:13 | 65 | 16 |
[WP] Tooth Fairies are a smaller and friendlier subspecies of the larger and much more hostile Bone Fairies.
Taken from this post [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/TIHI/comments/fmy38y/thanks_i_hate_tooth_fairies_now)
|
No one has baby-bones. What is a Bone Fairy to do? Ordinarily bones are not something you shed. As an undertaker I work a lot of creepy hours. I've seen what Skin Skinners do. They like to get a place on an arm started, pull off a ribbon while I'm out putting the stretcher back in the van. They run off but it's not like it's not obvious. I can hear them in the darkened casket room smacking their lips as they savor it.
Then there's Trailer-park Meth Vampires. Willing to drink dead blood because they have ground their teeth to nubs and couldn't break the skin of a nectarine. The guy who ran the back room before me would leave pitchers of blood by the rose bush for them. I kept it up when he left. Seemed merciful. Collect it during embalming, wipe down the outside of the pitcher, carry it out back. Done. One day the vampire just stopped coming. That was that.
It's pretty easy to scare yourself after hours in a funeral home. All of it is real. Ghosts in damn near every chair, "is that a liverworm I just sucked through my soda straw?" that kind of thing. But a Bone Fairy standing dead center in the hallway? I'm sober now.
They pinch at your joints. That's how they do it. They pinch at your elbow or right behind your knee. They get their fingers in there and touch them together. All while making eye contact. Every wince, every helpless scramble, excites them just a tiny bit. If they can get their fingers to touch then it is just a slight twist for them to grab the epiphasis. I have watched them do it again and again. You see, I'll hold the door open for them. I watch from the other side of the room as they come in and take the bones. They take what they want. They are yet to want mine. What else is a Bone Fairy to do?
|
Fucking tooth fairies. All happy’n cutesy... most people are delighted when they show up, after all loosing teeth is a joyful milestone for most children. And as for the occasional MMA call out or hockey game, tooth loss is considered almost a mark of a warrior.
I am sick of their smiley, happy, ridiculous cheerfulness. Their perpetual “always look on the bright side” Joy. The easiness of their transactions-give a coin and make sure the teeth are safeguarded from underworld theft is not hard now, especially since dental care became fashionable.
They don’t look at this horror. A child in a car crash. A farmer with a combine. A parent with bone cancer.
They watch for a couple of days, make sure the tooth loosens, watch families tease their child with the loose tooth, waiting for the happy moment.
I am stuck with people at their absolute lowest, in pain, devastated and afraid until their limb is released from their body. Caring for them. Comforting as best as a Fae can from afar, fighting off bone demons circling like vultures. Watching the surgeons-when there are surgeons.
All I want to do when I get off, is sit back and enjoy an eggnog, maybe listen to some metal.
Coronabella shouldn’t have told me to “cheer up”. Asking for the manager pfft - as if Choro cared a damn about those twits. She deserved the punch. She can pick up her own damn teeth.
....
That’s it. The Bone Fairies must be shut down. Imagine thinking that they are entitled to be rude because their job is “so much harder”. There is no excuse for rudeness in this company. It’s not my problem if they don’t do proper self care. I know for.a.fact. That we are entitled to fairioga and faerapy.
| 2020-03-22T13:21:06 | 2020-03-22T13:19:56 | 35 | 25 |
[WP] Write a horror story in 100 words.
|
I am Charles. I am thirty-two years old, and I am going to drown. My hands are tied to an eye-bolt at the base of a pier in a canal in Gautier. It is a beautiful evening. The sky is an orange crescendo to a simple life. The tide is coming in and the brackish water is turning to salt. I’ve pushed myself up as best I can, my back twisted awkwardly, my feet sunk into the silt bottom. My neck is stretched up, my chin thrust up and out. Only millimeters left and the sky is so beautiful.
|
Something is at your door. Don't open the door. Look trough the window but don't open the door. You see something, be careful so that it doesn't see you. It's trying to come inside, just be quiet and wait for it to go away. Breathe quietly as time passes. You have to do something. Whatever is at your door is still trying to come inside. Hide somewhere safe. While you try to slowly walk to the kitchen to grab a knife, hell in your mind becomes a reality. Before you thought of a way to escape, it was too late.
| 2017-10-17T07:49:43 | 2017-10-17T05:54:01 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] Magic is discovered to be real. The catch? Spells are just like computer programs: difficult to write, and even harder to do correct the first try. You're a spell bug tester, and you've seen just about everything go wrong, but today's typo is on a whole other level...
|
**Issue: [SEVERE]** 'Magic Hands' spell applied to subject rather than pure conjuration
**Type:** Application
**Severity:** A
**Priority:** 1
**Assigned to:** Matt Traynor
**Submitted by:** Greg Philmore
**Summary:**
Set to severity A because this stupid fucking system doesn't give me a goddamn S-rank for this bullshit.
'Magic Hands' intention was, apparently, to create a set of said hands to perform simple tasks. Unfortunately, instead of setting the spell to conjure those hands, it does the following:
Turns the caster into a pair of *fucking sentient hands.*
I'm currently typing this bug report up as a pair of hands. I have no idea how this is even still working and I've still got the capacity to think, but there you go.
Matt: it seems like you forgot to set the spell to actually CONJURE rather than just apply it to whatever poor bastard got this one to test. FIX IMMEDIATELY.
Side notes: unable to turn down requests for things such as “Get me a coffee” or “Can you type this bug report up for me?” This is getting beyond a joke.
***EDIT: IT HAS BEEN FOUR HOURS. HAVE SUBMITTED 8 TICKETS TO SPELL TECH TO FIX THIS. FIRE MATT.***
**Comments:**
**(12:07) Matt Traynor:** Oh goddamn it I knew something was wrong with it! Sorry! I'll get on fixing that right away and send the changes over.
**(12:08) Greg Philmore:** I don't care about a fix for the bug at this point. I am going to spend the rest of the day slapping the shit out of you if you don't get on UNDOING this.
**(12:47) Kerry Lane:** This is hilarious. Greg has been at the coffee machine for 20 minutes serving up lattes. Also we haven't had to listen to him singing Jimmy Buffet songs all morning! This is bliss.
**(12:56) Matthew Hendry:** How long do you think we can keep this up for?
**(15:12) Greg Philmore:** FIRE MATT AFTER KICKING HIM DECIDEDLY IN THE NUTSACK
|
"Have you no understanding of class?" I screamed at the timid student. "This spell has no parentheses around the functions! It's a fundamental error!" The student looked up, tears in eye.
"I didn't...I didn't know there was supposed to be a line break between the clover and the breelleaf addition..." he said, but I took that as a poor excuse. "Yeah, so 2cm more of space between the ink *isn't* a line spacing? Come up with a better excuse next time Jones," I said as I sent him back with a fail grade. Just then, my worst student, Adams stood up, showing the red marking I gave for his spell casting.
"Sir, this recipe looks perfectly fine! What's wrong?" I looked him dead in the eye, sighing as I walked towards his bench. The recipe was scanned critically as I looked for the error. But after one and two run-throughs, I failed to find the error in the 5 page long instructions. When I tried to cast it, however, the power fizzled at my fingertips. Adams looked at me arrogantly, as if he was challenging my authority. With a swift motion the spell was cast perfectly. But I couldn't do it...
I tried again and again, corroborating the list with my other colleagues. None of us could spot an error, and the student could cast it flawlessly. But - we - couldn't - do - it! And the appeal succeeded, the case being brought to the High School Academics Committee. Where the student performed it well again. And the professors scratched their heads. The recipe failed! So it was concluded that the student modified his recipe to succeed afterwards. As I left to conclude the case, the student begged me one last time to review it. And as my eyes looked through the same script, a thought struck me. *No way...*
"Is this an 'e' or an 'o' Adams?" I said sternly. The illegible letter was...ambiguous. And Adams nodded sheepishly as he responded. "An 'e' sir," he said.
*All that time...wasted...*
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request!
| 2017-07-26T03:57:13 | 2017-07-26T00:42:52 | 417 | 137 |
[WP] Set in a dangerous city in the early 1900s, Zeus, the corrupt mayor, Poseidon, who owns the ports, and Hades, kingpin of the back alley drug trade, run the city unapologetically. All are vying for more power in this Greek pantheon film noir setting. (From popular demand from r/books!)
|
“Oh god!” cried Hephaestus, looking at the pictures my associates took for him.
“That’s no god,” I said with as much sympathy as I could.
“I know who it is!” Hephaestus snapped at me, as he flipped through the pictures of his wife, Aphrodite, with her lover, Ares.
It’s my job. It’s not glamorous. But it pays the bills and sometimes it feels good to help a fella out like this man here, Hephaestus. A hard worker who worked his way up and now owns three steel mills in the center of the industrial district. Built his company—Vulcan Industries—with his own hands. Now they're living high on the hog, and what’s his wife do? She gets playful with the Olympus’s chief of police, Ares.
It ain’t good to have a man like Ares knowing I been spying on him with his sidepiece, but I told Hephaestus I’d help him, and I took his money. So here we are.
“Look I’m real sorry, mister,” I say to Hephaestus, who is still flipping through the pictures. “Now how ‘bout you get a drink. Head down to the bar *The Bacchae,* Dionysus runs it and is a good friend of mine. Tell him the drink’s on me.”
Hephaestus dropped the pictures and looked at me, smiling.
“No,” he said and I didn’t like the look in his eyes. “No, I got plans of my own.”
“Now just take it easy,” I said to the man. “Don’t go doing anything stupid.”
Hephaestus set an envelope down on my desk with my payment and stood up.
“Thank you, Jason, for your service. I knew I could trust you.”
“Just doing my job. Look, I take no pleasure in it. I was hoping it wouldn’t turn out this way with your wife.”
“Goodbye, Jason.”
“See you around, Hephaestus,” I said, tipping my cap to him as he walked out of the room.
I leaned back in my chair. Another day in Olympus, this god forsaken city filled with the most spiteful and petty and two-timin’ people imaginable.
I can’t complain though, these people keep me well employed. Bought me a Studebaker just a couple months. It was expensive, but a man’s gotta have style if he wants to attract the right customers.
“Mr. Iolcus,” I hear my assistant, Medea, over the intercom. “A lady is here to see you.”
“Let her in, Medea. Thank you.”
Here we go again, I say to myself, standing up and brushing off my suit, looking in the mirror. I nod in approval.
The door opens and a beautiful woman walks in. She is older. Blonde hair down to her shoulders. Enough jewelry around her neck to pay a kid’s way through college.
“How many I help you….,” I say, reaching for her hand, inquiring for her name.
“Mrs. Kronos,” she said. “But you can call me Hera.”
My heart skips a beat.
“Kronos,” I repeated. “I don’t imagine you are…”
“Yes, Mr. Iolcus. My husband is Zeus, the mayor. He's actually the reason I’m here to see you.”
What a day, I say to myself.
“Alright, Mrs. Kronos, why don’t you just sit right there." I lead her to a chair for clients in from of my desk. "Smoke?” I ask her, pulling out my gold case from my suit pocket.
“No,” she said, waving her gloved hand. “No thank you.”
“You mind?” I ask. “It’s not everyday I get the Mayor’s wife in here.”
“Go ahead,” she said. Her face was serious, drawn tight. She was beautiful, even at her age. And elegant. Her gloved hands held the sparkling purse on her lap and she sat up straight, like a statue. If the mayor was foolin’ around on her, he was an idiot. But aren't we all?
I took a deep drag on my cigarette, then asked, “how may I help you, Mrs. Kronos?”
“Do you know my husband, Mr. Iolcus?”
“Never met the man,” I said.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve heard rumors.”
“Rumors don’t mean much, Mrs. Kronos. Now look, I’m a busy man. Is there something I can do for you?”
She looked at me nervously.
“Yes, Mr. Iolcus—”
“Call me, Jason.”
“Yes, Jason, there is. You see, I believe my husband is having an affair.”
I nod, taking another drag of my cigarette.
“Do you love your husband, Mrs. Kronos?”
“I do,” she said.
“Then how ‘bout you just forget about this? Are you sure you really want what I may find? Honestly, your husband can make my life hard if he finds out about this. I got a license I gotta look out for.”
“What’s your rate?” She asked me.
“I’m not cheap, ma’am.”
“Well I’ll pay you your regular rate plus an extra $5,000 if you find anything.”
I stroke my chin, thinking. But there ain’t much to think about. $5,000 dollars makes it simple.
I press the intercom. “Medea, bring Mrs. Kronos one of our standard contracts, will you?”
“Right away, Mr. Iolcus.”
“Are you sure about this, Mrs. Kronos?”
“I’m sure,” she said as Medea walked in and placed the contract in front of Mrs. Kronos who bent forward and signed the contract. I grabbed the contract and signed it then ripped the carbon copy off the back and handed it to Mrs. Kronos. I walked Medea out of the room and held it open.
“I’ll be in touch with you soon, Mrs. Kronos. I’ll get started on the case today.”
She stood up and I got a whiff of her perfume. She turned and looked at me as she walked past, and I felt weak in the knees. What a knockout she was.
“Let’s hope that this is all just a misunderstanding.”
She laughed a little as she walked past Medea’s desk and out into the rainy Olympus night.
\----
I lock up for the night and turn to walk to my car, pulling my trench coat tight. The rain has stopped, and the steam is coming off the street in wavy hoary strings. As I get close to my car, a police crawler pulls up and two thugs with badges get out, looking at me like a dog drooling over a piece of raw meat.
“Where you headin’ tonight?” one of the officers asked me.
“Your wife just called, said she was feeling a little lonely, thought I’d stop by,” I say, taking a drag of my cigarette.
“Wise guy, eh? Let’s see if you’re so wise missin’ a few teeth,” the police officer said, tapping his trudgeon on the front of my car.
“Save it,” I say, blowing out a cloud of smoke. “That may work on some street walker, but you ain’t scaring me.”
“Police Chief wants to see you downtown. You’re coming with us, Jason.”
I could make a fuss out of this, but that wouldn’t really help any.
“Alright, big shot. Let’s take a drive then.” I flick my cigarette at his feet and walk towards the crawler. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that damn contract with Hephaestus. Ares isn’t someone I want to be on their bad side.
\----
***Part II Below***
|
Blood pattered onto a wooden pier soaked in rain as a cold wind whipped through crates stacked high in preparation for smuggling. A private eye wiped his nose as he struggled back to his feet, the world around him going various shades of grey to match the unimpressive rolling cloud cover.
"You're in the wrong place at the wrong time, buddy," rumbled a man approximately the size and general shape or a large boulder. He cracked knuckles on hands the size of hams, coarse hair covering knuckles and forearms.
The private eye managed to stand, albeit shakily, and spat a glob of blood onto the ground. With an absurd clarity, he could see spots of blood clinging both to the behemoth's knuckles and splattered across a plain white shirt tucked into rather expensive looking suit pants. Long dark locks of hair tumbled around a face chiseled from granite, framed by an equally tangled black beard.
With one pale hand he rubbed his nose, which gave a sharp cry of protest at being touched so soon after the solid whack it'd just received.
"I'm not here about whatever the fuck you're selling," the private eye said, with one hand gesturing at the stacked crates. If he was lucky, they were rum runners. If he was very unlucky, and he suspected he might be, they were smuggling ambrosia. And that was the kind of thing that earned you a very fashionable pair of cement shoes.
The giant crossed his arms.
"And? What are you doing out here, sneaking on my uncle's pier?"
This was bad news, and the private eye was far too sober for his liking already. Brushes with death usually cleared those cobwebs of a perpetual buzz that he liked to decorate his mind with.
"You're testing my patience. I ain't exactly the patient sort," said the giant. To punctuate his point he once again crackled his knuckles.
"I'm looking for a girl," the private eye said. He fumbled around his pockets, finding nothing. He must've lost the picture somewhere earlier, making his way through the wharves trying and hoping that whomever had scooped up his client's daughter wasn't the human trafficking type. You could buy and ship anything out from these piers and ships. People, guns, booze, what have you. Yet there was only one man on this pier at this time, and that was either his saving grace or his condemnation. Given his size, he didn't look like the sort of man who needed backup.
"Buddy there ain't many girls around here. She got a name?"
The private eye wracked the depths of his mind, which was quite the effort given the incoming hangover exacerbated only by the cold and the damp. What did it start with?
"Persephone," he finally managed.
It'd been a strange day, though most days were strange if you struggled to go through any of them sober. She'd walked in with the expression of a woman who hates being interrupted, and would be liable to plug you full of lead if you were dumb enough to do so. Someone had broken into her estate, in the nice part of town, where the arboretum and park and other fancy rich person shit kept the undesirable elements of Olympia out. What was the name of the neighborhood again? Something flowery? Spring something? He couldn't remember. All he knew was the client's name was Demeter and that someone had taken her precious little girl in the middle of the night.
Though to the private eye going on thirty wasn't exactly little, the but he wasn't one to ask questions. Money was money, and if there were a few vials of ambrosia in him for it on the side, he wasn't going to be stupid enough as to turn something like that down.
Something rippled across the giant's face, though the private eye couldn't quite tell if that was a good or bad sign. Good, he supposed, since he wasn't being lifted bodily into the air and dumped directly into the Aegean harbor with a broken neck.
*Someone had thrown me into the harbor before, but didn't matter what, who, or why.*
Those intrusive thoughts came into the private eye's mind more often than he'd like, but they were easy to brush aside.
"Mmm, rings a bell," the giant said, rubbing fore finger and thumb together, "With the right price, I might even have something to say."
The private eye grimaced at that. Times were tough, but the payday on this job had an absurd price tag. He'd probably be able to recover his losses, if there were any.
"Take me somewhere out of the cold, and I might have something to make this worth your while."
The private eye reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a flask to take a long swig from, a trickle of wine slipping down the corner of his mouth. Whatever it'd take to fight off the eventual apocalyptic headache.
"There's a bar not far from here, and if you buy me enough drinks with cash under the glass, I'll have some answers."
The giant no longer looked like he was going to crack open the private eye's skull, and to that the private eye gave thanks.
"You got a name?" asked the private eye, holding out one hand to be shook.
The giant's hand clasped over the private eye's, swallowing it whole. If the giant gripped it any harder, he guessed his hands would shatter from the crushing strength.
"Call me Heracles," the giant said.
"Call me Dionysus," said the private eye.
Something about that name jarred the private eye's memory, whenever that could be moved from its winey depths. Where had he heard that before?
The giant turned to lead him away from the docks, and the private eye followed.
Something about this didn't feel right.
"I've got a feeling you're going to tell me something I don't want to hear," Dionysus said to the lumbering mountain. The rain had dissolved into a weaker mist, though the lanterns on the street were lighting themselves one by one to fight off the pervading shadows.
Heracles laughed, though he didn't turn to look at the private eye.
"You don't know the half of it," he said, and left it at that, his boots clattering onto the wet stone of the sidewalk.
Something about that response cause a white hot ball of anxiety to plummet into his stomach, though Dionysus couldn't quite explain why.
*Not even noon, and almost drowned by some goon,* the private eye thought to himself.
*The big man said his uncle ran the dock.*
Demigods weren't exactly uncommon, but they ranged on the harmless to quite worse than running into one of the big Olympians themselves. Though Dionysus couldn't say if he'd recognize any of them. He drifted into town, or he could've been born here. He never would've known, he wasn't the man with the sort of memory that stuck around.
Still, he couldn't help but feel like there was something else brewing.
Something about this job rubbed him the wrong way.
He followed the giant who called himself Heracles to wherever he led. There was something about this town that gave Dionysus the impression that there were no easy days. Not in Olympia.
It was the sort of town where anything could happen.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/kallistowrites [Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/KallistoWrites/comments/lx32gl/an_unconventional_kidnapping_part_2/?)
| 2021-03-03T09:31:01 | 2021-03-03T09:11:22 | 554 | 51 |
[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.
|
Ah shit. Well there goes my plan. I step over the mess of dried up bones before me. The court addressees me and ask me the same question the poor bastard before me fumbled. I start to panic my heart is racing i cant think of anything. "How much time do i have?" I ask. "I dont know dude honestly your the first to ask, lets say 5 seconds" the counsel answer. " 5 SECONDS?!" I blurt out. " cant i atleast get 5 min?" "Nah bro, then everyones gonna want 5 min, and ill be stuck here all day, i got magic shit to do" says the main councilman. " cant say i blame, well i guess can i die from an Orgasm?" I ask. "Ah shit thats actually pretty smart my guy, aight step forward ill give u a quickie behind the desk" states the pretty fit kinda Australian looking guy, im not gay but this guy looked mad handsom." Idk man im not gay, i dont think ill be able to get it up infront of you." I say. " Oh no worries mate, i know magic." The man says as he transforms into a marho robbie type. "Actually if you can shapeshift do you mind changing into something different?" I ask. " aight bro, but you only get one more shot, what you want mate?" She asks. " i think i always wanted to die in the thighs of a big tiddied goth girl?" I say. He transforms into an average looking goth girl not really my type. " i guess i was imagining more of a scene girl actually." I say. " too bad bro, u get wut u get." She says. " ah shit, well can you go back to margo robbie then?" I ask. "Nah bro YOU GET WHAT YOU GET." she states." Well that sucks" i say as i walk behind the desk. I get a meddiocre handy and die to one of the most disappointing nuts in my life. RIP
|
There was a small group of us, huddled in the back. We had long ago stopped carrying why we were being sentenced to death. They seemed to be processing us in batches. The men who rebelled against former Chancellor Armenta were being cleared out before us.
We had been watching in dismay as the deaths were carried out. Each one giving us new ideas, or at the least, methods to avoid. There was only so many they could process at a time and someone had pointed out that certain ones seemed more magically draining on the system.
It seemed to be proven true as they looked particularly wiped after that death. It was still mid morning, and I turned and looked at the rest of the women I was with, nodded once, took a deep breath, and then volunteered to go first. Some of those women seemed nice, none seemed to be deserving of death by any of my measures, so I decided to buy them time, if I could.
It sounds noble, but I don't have a great life. I approached the stand, and looked up at the new high Chancellor. All the judges and executioners wore odd robes and masks. There was no continuity in style. The man I was looking at was wearing robes of red and white and an elaborate dragon mask.
"I choose the following death," I said smiling, "I will die giving birth to your twin heirs. Who will be so distraught at their mother's death that they'll avenge me and destroy you."
A quiet hush went, and then a soft pop. The magic began moving through my body. I felt the most intense cramping, a shudder and stifled moan passed through the chancellor's body. After a brief moment, I began to expand rapidly. The pain, discomfort and nausea overwhelmed me. It was a horrible way to die, but I felt vindicated when the birth of the first child was announced, a girl...the second is coming.
| 2021-06-24T10:16:46 | 2021-06-24T09:16:51 | 56 | 25 |
[WP] An alien species arrives and successfully conquers Earth. New Zealand anxiously awaits the invasion force, but realises that since they keep getting left off of maps, the aliens don't know they're there.
|
My Emperor. It is over. I am sending this transmission in the hopes that it reaches you before we are completely extinguished from this planet. Earth is lost. This defeat comes because of two simple words, which will haunt me for the remainder of my short time here. New Zealand.
As you know our invasion was planned to perfection. Our simultaneous tactical strikes on every land mass were devastatingly effective in bringing humanity to heel. Within three Earth rotations the planet was ours, and its resources ready for harvesting. The strikes were made more efficient by a map produced by the human organization “WHO”, which demonstrated both the geographical location of landmasses and the life expectancy of humans by region. This seemed a perfect tool to prioritise our troop deployment during the planning phases of our campaign. Only now do I realize it was too good to be true.
After landing on Earth, we quickly destroyed all forms of communication that the humans use. We then set up our own broadcast channel, transmitting on a wide range of frequencies, informing humans that they were now under the rule of the Empire. It was one month later that we received a curious message back on a broad spectral range, one that we now know to be the war cry of the human resistance – “Yeah nah bro”.
Had we not destroyed all of humankinds’ techniques for transmitting and storing information, we would have realised sooner that the WHO had neglected one vital land mass, an oversight which has proven to be our downfall. Shortly after we started receiving the broadcast, our main mining outpost on Earth fell victim to raids from a human resistance. At the time we were unable to determine the location of their base, which was kept well hidden. Unfortunately they were successful in securing a significant amount of military equipment before military command became aware of the problem and sent reinforcements.
Soon afterwards we found other outposts falling victim to raids across the planet, undoubtedly helped by our teleportation devices and weapons which the humans must have reverse engineered. By the time someone thought to perform an orbital scan of the planet, the resistance had already established a cloaking device around their base. We desperately searched for the place they referred to as “Aotearoa” without success.
Nine Earth months after our invasion started, our orbital scanners suddenly picked up two islands that had not been visible on any wavelengths previously. The humans had decloaked. This marked the beginning of their successful fight back. They had utilised our genetic technology with terrifying results. Around the planet, troops mounted on giant avian beings the humans called “Moa” began to appear. The terrifying squawk they emitted on the battlefield is carved into my memory, as permanent as the scars caused by their horrific talons. Swarms of insectoid creatures wiped out our food stores, and our naval bases were assaulted by beasts known colloquially amongst mankind as “lions of the sea”.
Our forces now lie in ruins. I believe there are only a handful of scattered troops left on this forsaken planet. I have issued a full retreat order, if anyone else is left to follow it. I have spent the last two weeks holed up in my bunger, starving and, I am afraid to admit, scared. Even now I can hear the booming of a creature which I fear will be my end. My emperor, should you launch another mission, I implore you remember its name, for they are fierce opponents on the field of war. They call it “Kakapo”.
|
The soldiers anxiously gripped their guns, awaiting their doom. The entire world had been conquered with no resistance whatsoever, and they knew they stood no chance. Still, it was better to die fighting for freedom than to lay down and accept their fate.
And yet, as the days went by, no invasion came. At first they considered it some kind of tactic - to mentally ruin them before conquering the country - but it made little sense. The aliens had technology that far surpassed that of their own, so what was the use in delaying their arrival?
********
"Damn it man, give me a map!" the general shouted, letting frustration get the better of him. It had already been almost a week. A private hurried over with a map, and the general grabbed it.
"See, look here - they've conquered every goddamn country," he said, pointing rapidly at each continent, "and yet, they haven't even- *oh for fucks sake!*"
The general was pointing at where New Zealand *should* have been, but it was open sea. Everyone in the room sighed.
"Can you get me another map, private? One that doesn't fucking leave out our country entirely?"
The private nodded, and turned to leave. Then he stopped.
"Sir... do you think that could be it?"
Everyone in the room turned towards the private. "What do you mean?" the general asked, his patience wearing thin.
"Maybe the reason they haven't invaded is because we're not on any maps, sir? Maybe they just don't know we exist?"
The room fell silent. The general considered it for a long while, slowly putting the map down and surveying it. Then he burst out laughing.
It took him ages to stop, and he wiped away his tears when he eventually did.
"God damn it, man, I think you might be right. I think you might just be right."
He looked at the assembled military, regaining his composure.
"So let's assume that's the case, since we don't have any better ideas. We've been given a massive opportunity here. We've got time. We can plan. The few weaknesses the aliens have can be exploited, and with a little luck, we can take back our planet from the alien scum. It's the best shot we've got."
A major shook his head. "But how, general? America, Russia, China - hell, even North Korea - none of them stood a chance."
"That's because none of them *had a chance*, major. EMP waves took down their defences before the aliens even arrived, a simultaneous attack that sent all electronics down. No one had any warning, any time. But now we've got all the time in the world."
Everyone in the room felt a glimmer of hope, for the first time since the aliens arrived on earth.
"So what do we do now, sir?" the major asked. "How do we defeat them?"
The general smiled, lighting up a cigar.
"We swing away, major. *We swing the fuck away*."
*****
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I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3
| 2017-09-18T22:14:15 | 2017-09-18T18:37:16 | 454 | 220 |
[FF] Write a 10 sentence story where the first sentence has 10 words, and each following sentence has one less word.
|
I didn't hear the bullet, but then, they never do.
There was just a thud, then I fell over.
Sergeant started shouting words I couldn't make out.
The rest of the squad hit cover.
No one came to get me.
Probably because I was exposed.
But still, nobody came.
I was alone.
And then.....
Nothing.
|
Quick, whoever you are, I need you to please listen! I am a scientist using an experimental time machine. But it is not working as we intended. We are being pulled back and forth. Into one timeline, and then back. And each time is shorter! Almost out of time... Please, send help! Oh no... Nooooooo-
| 2015-01-27T11:35:40 | 2015-01-27T11:28:50 | 192 | 15 |
[WP] "Daddy are angels and demons the same thing?" Your daughter cries. "That depends, why do you ask, honey?" you inquire. "They come every night. Both have too long fingers, jagged teeth, and wheels within wheels within wheels for eyes. They keep asking me to choose."
|
John sat at the edge of his daughter's bed, awkwardly thumbing through paperwork from today's cases. He felt Mandy's small hand on his back, gripping his shirt, as she breathed softly in slumber. It wasn't ideal, the pandemic has increased his workload exponentially, but a father can't say no when a daughter comes to him for help. Especially when it involves demons and angels.
He was scribbling a note in the margin when he felt an odd hush in the room. John paused, then cautiously looked up. He wasn't certain what to expect, especially when his daughter described monsters with long fingers, pointy fangs and eyes made of many wheels. Though that last line was pretty terrifying, as a father he couldn't help but feel a bit of pride for Mandy's power of description with the eyes bit.
He glanced around the room, but saw nothing. He hesitantly went back to his paperwork, writing another note, when he felt a quiet but cracked voice breath into his face, "Choose."
John's head snapped up. Hovering, torn black robes billowing, a million wheels cascading into nothing stared back at him. The monster has finally came out of the closet. "Choose!" The apparition's voice grew in millions as a similar monster materilized behind it. John was frozen, a sludgy mixture of uncertainty, fear and awe cementing him in place. Until he felt the grip on his shirt tighten and a small voice whisper, "Daddy?"
"Oh? Oh! Oh, yes." John quickly tidied up his papers. "Excuse me one moment, sirs. Or madams. I made a sure mess. I didn't realize we were going to have company." He leaned over awkwardly, maneuvering around the deathgrip of his daughter's hand and a floating monster not getting the hint to move back a few feet.
The figures fluttered uncertainly for a moment as the father rummaged through belongings on the floor, until one puffed up in annoyance, million voices clamoring, "CHOO-!" John quickly held up a finger, cutting off the demon. Or angel. Or whatever it is. "We'll get to that in one moment sir or madam. However, I first need to find..." There was a moment's pause then John quickly snapped back into place, causing the two figures to confusedly fall back. John smiled disarmingly, holding up a fresh pad of paper and a pen. "Bob, my assistant, a technology savvy young man, always made fun of me for my old man ways, but there is something about writing things down with open and paper that I can't get from a computer. You know?"
He felt Mandy move behind him, her grip loosening, and she let out a small giggle. "Daddy, Bob is only like five years younger than you. You aren't that old."
John smiled over his shoulder and then cleared his throat before addressing the two floating figures. "Uh, gentleman and ladies, my name is John Feller. I am a divorce attorney, with additional training in mediation. This certain, uh, situation might be out of my realm of expertise, and there might be a conflict of interest, but I am more than qualified to take opening notes. If necessary, we can find different representation moving forward."
John paused, seeing if there was any reaction. There wasn't. He readied his pen, "So to start, would you mind introducing yourselves?"
There was a tentative pause, then one of the figures strongly moved forward, a long boney finger pointing at Mandy, "CHOOSE!" It demanded.
"Ah hold on, friend" John stood up hurriedly, buffering his daughter from the dooming onslaught. The figure got so close he heard the clicking of the wheels vibrating from where the eyes should be. "That hardly feels fair. You can't just barge into a person's home, demanding a contractually binding verbal agreement without fully detailing what's *actually* in the contract. We need to see a contract first!"
There was silence.
"Do you have a contract?"
The figure looked away nonchalantly.
John prodded, "So there is a contract?"
The figure deflated a bit and floated backwards. It's companion looked mildly agitated. "There is always a contract," a creaky voice filled with nails finally admitted.
John sighed in relief, rubbing his head, "Oh thank goodness. It would've been a very long night if all you could say was 'choose'."
He gathered himself, and then squared up against the creatures. "So I have to say this was all very unprofessional. There was a contract, but didn't inform us of it's existence. You put unfair time constraints and used intimidation tactics on my client, Amanda Feller, to force a decision. I won't take this lightly."
The two figures shuffled back and forth uncomfortably, "We need an answe-" one attempted to say. John cut it off.
"Send me the contract at once. I'll contact you - *and don't you ever dare contact my client again without me* - when we review the conditions..." He stopped suspiciously, remembering Mandy's questions about the difference between angels and demons. "Are you the only ones offering a contract?"
"Ahhh... well..."
"Are you?" John demanded.
"Welllll, not exactly..."
The father walked over angrily, waving the pad of paper in front of the figures faces. "AND YOU ARE HIDING THAT MY CLIENT HAS OTHER OFFERS? I should file a complaint against your practice!"
"Ah, don't do that mortal -"
"- Mr. Feller -"
"- Mr. Feller! I mean, we don't bring any harm -"
"You brought plenty of harm in emotional distress!"
The creature held up a finger as to speak and then slowly lowered it's hand. It glanced, wheels turning, at it's comrade who shrugged. "We'll get back to you with the contract."
"And?"
"We'll also forward the contact details of the holders of the other contract."
"Good." John immediately relaxed and gave a broad smile. "Well thank you gentlemen and ladies. I look forward to working with you while we meet a mutually beneficial decision."
The two creatures shared a look.
John nodded to the door, "Um, you can go now."
"Oh! Oh, of course. Uh, thank you." The figures awkwardly hovered out of existence.
John plopped back on the bed, slightly exhausted, rubbing his head with one hand. He felt Mandy's fingers inertwine between his other. "Daddy?"
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
"Thanks. Also, are you going to bill me for this?"
He grinned and turned, showing off his trademark tickle hands. "I accept payment in tickles!" She shrieked as he pounced.
They both froze when they heard a creak on the floorboard. Mandy whispered, "I don't think the floaty guys would creak." John and Mandy looked up cautiously.
A small red, pig-like creature stood in the middle of the room, briefcase in hand. It gave a professional nod, fangs peaking from its snout, before a gruff voice asked, "I heard you were interested in an offer?"
|
For a long time, I ignored my daughter's talk about seeing angels and demons at night. These are just dreams — that's what I told her when she persisted for my attention. What else can a father say to her daughter anyways?
Dancing dinosaurs, flying dragons, talking cats: I have heard it all before. So why angels and demons would be any different?
But then when she started saying that she had to choose one of them tonight, I couldn't help but get involved in her foolish talks.
"Choose the angel, Diana, of course?" I said as she looked at me with her big beautiful eyes.
"But the Angel is as scary as the Demon. Both have long slimy fingers, sharp jagged teeth, and eyes that make me remember about the night when —"
"Shh," I stopped her. "We don't talk about that, honey." I patted her back.
The fact that she was dreaming again was worrisome enough, but this business of seeing angels as demons? That got me worried.
"I'll stay with you tonight," I assured her, "then I can help you choose the right one."
"But they won't come if you are there. They come only for me."
I smiled and winked at her.
"I will hide under your bed. They won't know it."
She flashed a big bright smile and lunged towards me, giving me a big hug. "Thank you, papa," she said and ran out of the room to play in the porch.
After that, I didn't think of much about it as my I got engrossed in the news playing on TV.
By the time I got up, the warm dusk had deepened into a cold silent night. I went about dinner business in the kitchen. Sometime during my time in the kitchen, I left a voice message for my wife. She was with her parents for the weekend.
I had a usual dinner with my daughter. Then we watched half an hour of the cartoons on TV, after which she kissed me goodnight and went to her room. Three-quarters of an hour went by, and only then I remembered the promise I had made my daughter.
I cleaned the table, and kitchen, brushed my teeth, and then after standing by the window for a few minutes looking at the big ghostly moon, went to my daughter's room, silently opened the door, and stepped insides.
She was already asleep.
A fatherly smile came over my face, and I slid under the bed. All of this felt like a game to me, and I relished the talk which I will be having tomorrow morning with her about her irrational fears.
As I lay under the bed, I realized that I should have bought my phone, which would have helped me to kill time. But the prospect of getting out from under the bed and then return again seems too much now. So I decided to stay put and hoped for my daughter to wake up from her dream. That way, I would catch her in the moment, proving that it was nothing but her vivid imagination.
It was in these childish thoughts that I lost track of time and began to drowse. A light veil of sleep fell over me, and I pulled up my hands behind me, put them under my head, closed my eyes and began to sleep.
I woke up with a start.
I raised my head a little and ended up bumping my head against the floor of the bed. Even though I was awake, the deep blanket of sleep still hung over me. I had completely forgotten why I was under the bed, and for a moment, a primal panic gripped me like the claws of a giant spider.
It took me a few moments, but I came out of that half-asleep half-awake state, got hold of my bearing and smiled at my fear. I looked around, trying to get the hang of the time from the light in the room. From the narrow slit of a view that my unique position offered me, I saw only darkness.
It was then I first heard a deep guttural sound, and at once a thought erupted into my head —it's not my daughter's voice.
I slid myself out of bed on the side of the wardrobe, chinned up from behind the bed's edge and saw past the rumpled duvet on the empty bed towards the window. There I saw a body standing at the window, her hair phantasmal in the silvery light of the moon, wind sighing through her hair making them wave, her light cotton frock billowing, and then the same guttural sound coming from inside of her.
At that moment, what struck me most was the fact that even though the girl standing at the window, no doubt was my daughter — who else she could be? — but something unexplainable told me that at that moment she wasn't my daughter. Something of essence that made my daughter, my daughter, was missing.
Even though I was scared, but a fatherly instinct made me get up and to check what was happening, and who (or what?) this girl was that was every bit my daughter except that key essence.
As softly as possible, I got up and began to walk in the direction of the spectral figure standing in that pale ghostly calcimined wash of moonlight.
When I reached her, I was so scared that my heart was flitting in my chest like a wild bird, and my body has covered a veneer of icy cold sweat.
I stopped right behind her.
Then, I waited for a moment, drew in a long breath and put my hands over her shoulder.
If she had moved or jerked or even twitched, I would not have been surprised. I was prepared for that. But the girl just stood still as a rock, and cold as ice. At once, my hand pulled away from her. I stood there for a moment, wiping some sweat off my face. Then I walked around her and stood next to the window, looking at her.
When I saw her, it took my breath away.
The right part of the face that was near to me was ghostly white, and the other part dark as that of a moonless night. Both her eyes were of different colours, the right one of livid colour, and the left one deep scarlet.
I gathered all the courage I could muster and put my right hand on her face. She didn't budge. Then I put the other hand on her face, and then I realized something, that this body whatever it was had nothing to do with my daughter and it was —
Just then I felt a hand behind me, and I jumped back in a fear so strong that all the hair on my body bristled, my heart leapt in my mouth, my breathing rate off the charts.
I turned around and saw a moist hand over me, and something stuck in my throat like a bone of a fish too big to swallow, and I writhed, I flopped, I moaned, I howled, and I fell back in utter fear.
The last thing I remember was cold darkness over me that I felt was very much like dying. Just after I heard this other girl was saying something, "Papa, Papa, it was just a jo —"
But I was already blacked out to understand what she was saying.
| 2020-10-31T08:49:27 | 2020-10-31T08:22:08 | 121 | 26 |
[WP] You wake up in a room with someone else, no doors, just a a paper taped on the wall that says "One of you is the A.I."
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I read the note carefully. It said “One of you is the A.I.” I turned to the other person in the room and said, “Hey, do you want to read this?”
He turned to me and said in a loud monotone stuttering voice, “YES.”
I gave it to him and he said, “NOTE ENCRYPTION: ONE OF YOU IS THE A.I.”
He then started to spark and jitter.
It was pretty clear who was the A.I.
|
I'm still groggy as I read the paper and slowly turn around to face my roommate. Surely I can't be an AI, can I?. I see his face and the trepidation melts to the floor around my feet replaced with a schoolgirl giddiness. "Holy shit, Allen Iverson! Can I have your autograph?"
"No." came the Answer's reply. I wish I were a robot.
| 2018-02-22T15:58:40 | 2018-02-22T15:09:55 | 277 | 34 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years
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"What the fuck."
I was kind of pissed, I had this doctor recommended to me and hired specifically because he wasn't religious. I had gotten tired of people telling me for 15 years about how my child was the second coming of God or Zeus or Hircine or whatever. It got worse when my wife ended up having twins, people began saying my little girl was the antichrist so I was fucking done with religious nutjobs. And here this supposedly "atheistic, science-based" doctor was, telling me my children were gods.
"It's only theory for now, Mr. Walker, but a pretty solid one. When your children were born, they were both Undefined, we had not discovered a mutant strain like theirs ever before. The testing we've been putting them through shows no limits to their powers as of yet. They can fly, read minds, predict things better than the most complex programs. And your daughter has been seen actually creating things."
"How do you know that?" I was almost shouting. "Maybe she's summoning it from somewhere or something!"
"The object we gave her was one of a kind. She now has several, they all look and function exactly the same. Even the wear on them is identical."
Suddenly the supervising nurse ran in. "Doctor, there's been, ah, a development. Please follow, Mr. Walker. I think this puts to rest any doubts we have."
We walked into the room they had my children in. There were a lot of doctors around my children, 'Ooh'ing at something they had.
"Daddy, look!" said my daughter, grinning as her and her brother held up transparent, tennis ball sized objects towards me.
In one of these spheres, there was a tiny little star. In the other, a perfect planet.
|
Of course we could rely on Yorkshire for some peace and quiet.
When one of the quakers found out who we were all that changed was that she simply started offering us old remedies for Alex's god-baby pains. And weed too. Rural Yorkshire folk had that strange charm to it.
As soon as the baby was older than 12 months we got the mild interest of Toronto press's attention and a local priest, they all loved a baby with powers. By 18 it was worldwide and we had all the wrong attention. News outlets were fierce and repetitive every few months but the others were a lot worse. Some trying to make us leave for god knows where with them to be some king's subject, government or corporate automatons with goofy smiles and dead eyes wanting us to live in research compounds and the nutters who tried to take us to their holy places for the sake of jesus, krishna, and a few hundred other gods. Even the scientologists with their cameras were making appearances back in Toronto for us. It dominated our lives for years.
Until an unassuming old Quaker came to our attention. He didn't say much at first but instead showed us video of his home in North Yorkshire called cottingleigh. A majority quaker village with a huge majority of powered people. It was established in the 40s as a British secret service colony and training area, for people with extraordinary powers. When the war ended the British government didn't stop their efforts, they continued nurturing the small hilly area, keeping a top of the range "specialist" school a hospital for monitoring and nurturing the populace and an intelligence base for keeping the town secret and safe. All our preferences about city life hadn't mattered for years. It was the perfect place.
| 2017-07-08T03:36:32 | 2017-07-08T01:38:23 | 98 | 12 |
[WP] You are an ancient and incredibly powerful god, and you’re furious that your enemies keep sending teenage “chosen ones” to fight you.
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“I AM HERE TO SLAY YOU, GOD OF THE FOREST!” The puny human shouts up to me, brandishing a ridiculously large sword decorated with jewels.
“How do you even swing that thing?” I ask, picking the remains of an elk out of my tooth with a particularly pointy tree I found.
“WITH JUSTICE!” He shouted, flicking his floppy blonde locks out of the way of his piercing green eyes. A typically attractive human.
“Good response.” I say with a smirk. “But seriously, it’s about as big as you are.”
“I... I don’t know.” He said, glancing down at it now questioning its effectiveness. “The king gave it to me. It’s called the god\-slayer.”
“I mean, at least the name makes sense.” I sigh. “What’s your name, puny one?”
“Arkus” he said, pausing dramatically before his next word. “The..”
“The chosen one?” I guess before he can finish.
“How did you know?” He asks in a disheartened tone.
“I get a lot of those stop by. Look, here’s my pile of them.” I gesture to the large pile of limbs and guts I like to keep as souvenirs. The human throws up.
“These were the bits I could salvage. There was one human, Eric The Chosen One...” I begin to chuckle. “He was told that I would ask him A RIDDLE!” I erupt into laughter. “This finger was the only thing left of him!” I say, wiping a tear from my eye as I wiggle the tiny limb.
The human, Arkus, was now sheet white. I’ve seen it many times before, sometimes humans would get stage fright or just start crying as they set their eyes upon me. Just a trait us Gods have. “Why have you been sent to kill me?” I ask the now terrified boy. He takes a moment to pull himself together, taking a few deep breaths.
“T\-the King told us that you were taking our food and was forced to raise taxes. S\-said only a brave warrior could stop you.” He managed to get out through trembling lips.
“Nah.” I say “He’s ripping you off. Why would I need to steal food? I’m a god.”
“Oh.” The boy says.
“Sorry about that.” I say, delicately picking up the tiny creature. “Now which limb is your favourite?”
Typed up on my phone, first attempt so be nice.
Find Part 2 In the Replies.
Edit: people seemed interested so I [made a subreddit](https://www.reddit.com/r/TheDavz/) to continue the story (I will also carry on replying my next parts.
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Gods exist in many forms - some create, some destroy, others are an abyss. We all obey a set of rules, rules that are constantly manipulated as we see fit. We’ve created a vast expanse of nothing filled with chaos, energy, and matter.
For an incomprehensible amount of time I built an entire galaxy. My project was unorthodox, ill advised, and nearly a complete failure. Massive holes were created, absorbing much of what I’d created to an unexplainable abyss. However, I never gave up hope. Through all the chaos and with a bit of luck a created perfection - a single rock. Far enough away from my failures to be safe and close enough to my greatest achievements to succeed.
I called my creation life. It was a singular form, but with a mind of its own. I nurtured it, matured it. Nothing like what I was attempting had ever been done before, I gave it everything it needed to survive. Life grew rapidly, sometimes too rapidly and too large. I destroyed some creatures and let others live, micromanaging the planet until a strange form of creation came into existence.
Beginning with simple reactions was entirely manageable. Kill or be killed, grow and die. What I did not expect was intelligence, a being capable of understanding at least a fragment of what I did. I became obsessed, I eliminated the creatures enemies in their path, anything to allow their intelligence to flourish. Nobody had created something resembling anything like this before.
I connected with my creation, once they became strong enough to understand who I was I began visiting them. Each time visited resulted in worship, my ego began to grow. I had created perfection. They fought each other, they grew stronger, there was no stopping the beast I had created. I watched them fight wars over me, continually advance intellectually and as a society to find out who I am. Soon they would begin to understand.
I was wrong.
The creatures I created became beasts, the world I created was no longer under my control so long as I live. They weren’t just fighting each other anymore, they were rapidly destroying the life I had created. For the first time in centuries, I decided to reach out to them again in way they might understand.
—- if anyone is interested I’ll finish this tomorrow, I got tired —-
[part two ](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/8kj9rx/wp_you_are_an_ancient_and_incredibly_powerful_god/?st=JHG1FS1Q&sh=23de32d4)
| 2018-05-19T04:57:04 | 2018-05-19T04:34:33 | 103 | 41 |
[WP] Upon storming a diplomat's space ship and securing the helm your crew of kidnappers happily informs you that they even managed to kill the Diplomat's human bodyguard. Your blood runs cold as you inform them there was a second human, and the two were a mated pair.
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SubMajet Cherse winced as the violence of depressurization vibrated through her suit with a buzz that shook her membranes. Breach shields were up a second later, and then nanite auto-repair began to reconstruct the hull. Less than three total seconds had elapsed, but that was enough. A single dead human thumped to the floor, and durable as they were, the unyielding cold of hard vacuum had done its job. Nonetheless, The SubMajet took a long look to make sure it didn’t rise.
“SubMajet to OverMajet. Human neutralized. Squad returning to helm, unless ordered otherwise.” Warm silence filled the comm link for a moment, then the OverMajet responded. “Return to helm, SubMajet. The ambassador appears to be suffering from a mental break, and I want all non-patrol personnel to monitor.”
—————————————————————
Through the ship cameras linked to its optic feed, the Ambassador saw the human hit the floor, certainly dead. The Ambassador hadn’t been sure as to its gender, as its own species hadn’t evolved the concept. According to cultural analysis, the long hair indicated female, but also made note of certain subcultures where such identifiers lost validity. The Ambassador took its best guess, letting out a humming mourn-dirge for the fallen. Then it began to laugh. Low and slow, at first. Then higher, until the translator unit lost vocal cohesion and stopped transmitting.
SubMajets focused Synaptic Bolts on the Ambassador as it shook with terrible mirth, ready to fire. Their OverMajet stalked forwards, one arm pinning the Ambassador hard into its chair. “Explain yourself, Ambassador. Alive does not mean unharmed.” An Agonizer primed in the OverMajet’s suit gauntlet, pointing at the Ambassador from inches away. It choked out a single phrase, laughter lowering to a pitch that the translator could emit. “You only got one.” The OverMajet jerked away as if the Ambassador was irradiated.
————————————————————-
“All SubMajets, Code Cyan.” The OverMajet’s voice echoed through comms of Cherse’s squad. Each member tensed, weapons activating as their suits picked up the combat-state of it’s occupant. “New data indicates the presence of other humans on this ship. All squads outside the helm are instructed to initiate thought-meld and-“ The comms collapsed with a scream, sending Cherse staggering in sudden panic. Her suit’s voice, cool and artifical, sounded instead. !Jammer detected!
Cherse moved immediately, entering the thought meld with her squad and reversing course down the hall. Her squad perceived her intention immediately, marching double time to the access panel they’d used to cause the depressurization that had killed the first human. Her technical specialist jacked in while the squad covered her, pulling up camera feeds sector by sector until they found the source of their Code Cyan. Twelve seconds in, the nightmare-horror of the carnage a human could unleash flickered through the minds of Cherse’s squad.
—————————————————————-
SubMajet Teler felt the terror of his subordinates as their Synaptic Bolts struck the human in a hissing tidal wave that should have shattered its mind dozens of times over. On 99.96% of all encountered life, and 99.99% of all encountered intelligent life, that would have happened. But the human weathered the storm without so much as slowing, lashing out with a vac-suit clad fist that snuffed out a piece of the Teler’s thought meld. It didn’t stop with one. Fueled by the strength of a high-grav world, the human tore into his squad unarmed, blows lifting soldiers into the air, muscles overpowering the screaming servos of their combat suits, rage driving the monster forward like a sentient avalanche. With only a third of his twenty-strong squad alive, Teler ordered a retreat.
The human’s head snapped towards him, and it plucked a Synaptic Bolt from the Jalet it was strangling. The hiss of the weapon filled Teler’s ears as two more died, but finally, mercifully, Teler reached the bulkhead control, sealing it behind him. His squad, down to four, shuddered with combat-shock, eyeing the blast door as though they expected the human to beat it down. Instead, the ship holo-com activated, projecting a miniature image of the hallway they’d left. The human strode away from their position, stopping at each corpse and firing its stolen Synaptic Bolt. It glanced at the holo-com, and spoke. “Be seeing you, soon enough.” With a click, the holo-com deactivated.
—————————————————————
The OverMajet paced like a caged animal. “Can we flee to our ship?” “Unlikely, sir. Docking mechanisms have been manually overridden, and I found this in the logs once I cracked the security.” An image of a vac-suit wearing human in the hangar bay, wielding a engineering kit, flickered into being. As the OverMajet watched, it began to sever, fuse, and destroy the access points for the hangar controls. “We’d have to get down there first, manually disengage our ship, and avoid the human... who has jammed our comms and is methodically killing us squad by squad.” Locked into its chair, the Ambassador began to laugh again.
|
Tan faced, red furred, with braids hanging on either side of his snouted face, Trogurt Umroc snorted once when he looked over Bogrul after the younger Hochar had delivered the news. Trogurt's entire crew was made of his people: Hochar. The Terran's had derisively nicknamed the proud Hochari as *warboars* given the superficial connection that men like Trogurt Umroc, Bogrul, or females such as Valka had with Terran porcine. Who was chortling now? The Hochar had stormed the diplomat's ship and had much of the crew contained under armed guard in the galley. Yet Trogurt felt the rough furs on the back of his neck curl when Bogrul had brought the news that they had only gotten one of the bodyguards.
"Was it the male or the female?" Trogurt asked.
"The Male," Bogrul said, "I heard the female call for him to follow, but the fool had ordered her to escape and ran firing wildly." Bogrul's raised in a rough smile that display sharp teeth, "He only wounded Khadul when we cut him down, and we have the diplomat."
"It also means a bodyguard is loose," Trogurt said, "And a female at that."
Brogul shrugged, "The female is a Terran. She isn't like one of our females who can prove themselves in a figh-" Brogul stopped as muted sound of laser fire erupted in the room next over. Although the Hochar in the room could vaguely hear the shots, they could see nothing as they stood at a pressure door.
"Take positions," Trogurt growled. The Hochar broke off with laser barrels pointed at the pressure door. As he tuned into the radio he heard Hochar units cry over the commlink that they needed help before being suddenly cut off.
"What's going on?" One of the guards in the galley demanded.
"If anyone attempts to break through, shoot the hostages," Trogurt ordered as he drew his tri-barrel laser pistol. He looked to Valka who stood next to the shaken diplomat, "If she gets through, kill him first." Trogurt turned back and said, "Open the door." Trogurt's yellow eyes flashed a look to Bogrul who stood next to the door controls. The grey furred Hochar nodded once to Trogurt and then to another Hochar before activating the panel.
"Watch everything, the floors, the ceiling. The females are more adroit than their males," Trogurt cautioned as the pressure door slid open and revealed a flickering hallway where several Hochar laid dead. At once, the first set of rifles pointed through the door to cover the room. Bogrul raised a hand and signaled one of the Hochar who might as well be fresh from the feeding trough and onto the battlefield. The scout was through the door and a few steps in to observe the body when a single bolt flashed from above and hit him in the shoulder.
There was a shout, but she appeared, hanging upside down with two laser pistols in hand. Bogrul had dodged and hugged himself against the wall while two other soldiers ate laser shots that knocked them down. Some heads ducked, others fired back. None would say that Trogurt was a cowed as he strode towards the Human, his heavier laser testing the fortitude of his wrist as it cracked off beams of energy. Trogurt growled as he felt the heat of energy rounds pass by and singer his fur and graze his armor. The woman's eyes turned and Trogurt thought he saw her gasp when Bogrul stepped out and struck her on the chest plat with his gauntleted fist. She flipped backwards, landing on her stomach. She flopped to her back, one of her lasers came up to fire, but Bogrul was already on top of her. Two shots had bounced off her crisis armor. The cuirass held, but her face reacted to the pressures that rolled into her ribs and stomach. The laser fell from her hand and clattered across the ground. When Trogurt and a few other Hochar had surrounded the smooth, tan skinned warrior, she could only scorch her enemies with glares of hate.
"Little Human," Bogrul said with a grin.
Trogurt had caught the drift of her hand to her belt. She was stopped when Trogurt slammed his heavy boot twice against her torso. Her weakened cuirass cracked and the Human cried out as the vibroknife dropped out of her hand. "She might have almost gutted you," Trogurt noted to Bogrul with a grunt, "Take her to the galley with the others." Trogurt said.
"Blood ran down corner of her lips as she smiled at Trogurt, "When I get the chance, we'll be seeing each other real soon."
Trogurt said nothing at first, he lifted his right hand, pointed his thick index finger and raised his thumb to make the shape of a pistol. He thinly smiled at the Human before bringing his thumb down as if he had shot her.
"Double the guard around the galley until we are ready to evacuated back to our ship. I want our fallen to be taken off so that they can returned with honor," Trogurt ordered before walking back to the bridge.
| 2021-01-08T07:28:55 | 2021-01-08T04:22:40 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned.
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"Calm down," Sarah said, gesturing the sorcerer to stop hopping around the room.
"I- I didn't think it would actually *work!*" exclaimed the terrified creature, still holding onto the summoning book. Sarah thought the thing looked quite human. Only its azure skin and the huge eyes that protruded from the side of its head, really gave it away.
"You're a *demon*," it whispered. "A real demon."
"*No*," Sarah corrected it. "I'm Sarah - a *New Yorker*."
"What level of Hell is that!?" the shaking sorcerer replied, taking a long step away from her.
Sarah walked out from the circle of smouldering candles, and into the small room. "It's not Hell. Well, sometimes I guess it can be..."
"Back, demon!" Three of its four arms folded twice over, into some kind of ineffective warding symbol. Sarah walked towards it. *It* backed off until it hit a marble wall.
"Listen, sweetheart. I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to go home," she said.
"...I don't know how to send you back. It wasn't exactly in the book."
"Of course it wasn't. That's just great," Sarah sighed. "Why would you even *want* to summon a demon?"
"I..." It breathed hard and very slowly, began to calm. "Well, we humans of Paradise," began the creature, much to Sarah's amusement, "are not allowed to hurt one another. It's impossible to do so. Whatever harm we try to do to a person, happens to us instead."
"Oh. So... if you were to say... stab someone, you'd be stabbed instead?" Sarah said, not really believing it.
"Yes! Our God," it said, pointing towards the ground, "made us that way so we could never intentionally harm one another."
"So... you summoned a demon because you wanted to do someone harm?"
"Yes! Bruce. He deserves it thoroughly bec-"
"Wait," Sarah said quickly interrupting, "so you *really* can't harm me?"
"... no, of course not."
"Try," Sarah said encouragingly. She held out an arm and rolled up her sleeve. "Here, pinch me."
"I would rather not."
"Pinch me!" she yelled. The creature swallowed hard, made the sign of an upside down cross on its right chest, and then pinched Sarah's skin between two of its rubbery fingers. Sarah didn't feel a thing.
"Owch!" it said, tenderly rubbing its sore arm.
"That's very interesting," Sarah mused out loud. "Okay, try pulling my hair."
"No, thank you." Red beads of sweat began to run down its cheeks.
"DO IT!" she yelled, taking a threatening step towards it.
It gingerly brought a hand up towards Sarah's head, and gave a quick, hard, tug at her blonde hair. It instantly let go, and gasped in pain.
"And punch me..."
"N-no,"
Sarah opened her eyes wide and stared at the creature. She heard it gulp loudly before it punched her gently on the arm.
"Harder!" she ordered. "Or else there'll be trouble!"
The punch to Sarah's chest sent the creature sprawling to the ground, leaving it desperately attempting to suck air in.
"So, I can't be hurt..." she thought aloud. "But I wonder if I can..."
"I'm really so, so sorry," she said, as she punched the creature's head repeatedly. "Honestly, I am. I just need to test a few things."
The demon left the sorcerer's house with an idea in her head, and a dead creature in tow behind. "Paradise," she laughed, "it soon will be."
---
More of my stories on /r/nickofnight (plus a different story I wrote for this prompt)
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"Naturally, it's your genetics and evolutionary upbringing that lead to such [TRANSLATION MISSING - Suggestion: sanity curdling bloodlust that all sentient lifeforms would cringe away from in existential horror] among your people." The device doing the translating, a slim piece of floating aluminium foil, by the looks of it, certainly took its time cross-referencing that particular idiomatic expression. But perhaps...
Thinking carefully, I slowly pronounced each word, striving for the formal language it seemed to understand best. "Mighty-Kelp-Organ-464, might I possibly help improve your translating device?"
A small hologram flipped up, revealing a " :) ", an extremely useful feature, as the Rylonian equivalent was scent based. I could definitely detect it. I could almost taste it. But I still hadn't quite got the nuances of their expression down. Was it slightly more 'wet dog', this time? Or maybe my olfactory cilia were committing hari-kari one by one to defend my psyche from the assault.
I digress. It's been a long 48 hours.
"Perhaps 'The Human Condition' might be an appropriate substitution."
"Thank you Meat-Friend. Mighty-Kelp-Organ.464 will be pleased to accept such an contribution. Please accept a gift of another of your metric units of P79 N118."
Hey, it wasn't all bad. The smells, the lack of sleep, the ceaseless barrage of noise and light that the almost blind and deaf Rylonians require to comprehend their tele-screens, sure, not pleasant, but it's much easier to say 'this too shall pass' when small blocks of extremely heavy metal keep materialising at my feet.
"As I was saying, I in no way disparage your right as an individual to sentience-recognition by the Sector Administration, far from it. You've proven to be extremely [TRANSLATION ERROR - Multiple substitutions available: Relaxed/peaceful/not murderous] throughout your stay. It is simply that," Mighty-Kelp shifted slightly, and I pretended not to notice the forcefields flickering. "Well, as a species you seem remarkably insane. Forecasts give your species another two hundred and fifty seven years before homo sapiens goes extinct in the wild."
I blinked at that.
"Hence, no committee would ever declare your kind, in your current state, a suitable candidate for recognition. Therefore..."
"You want me to murder one of your colleagues?"
Mighty-Kelp-Organ.464 flapped around at that. The translation device slide smoothly out of the way, evidently used to the flailing. Lumpy tentacles smeared with some sort of jelly flollopped and glollopped around, spattering fluids. After about a minute of this, it seemed to calm down. I couldn't smell anything though. I think my nose has actually shut down.
Oh well. Probably for the best. Rylionian cussing could probably kill a man at a dozen paces.
"I repeat, Meat Friend, That this would *not* be murder. Murder is a premeditated act by a sentient creature on another. This would be an accident, a terrible, terrible, highly specific accident. I grieve pre-emptively for Mighty-Kelp-Organ.12, but my [TRANSLATION ERROR - Multiple substitutions available: Promotion/breeding rights/spiritual status] has already been trampled on for long enough."
"And afterwards?"
"Well, while the lawyers hash it out, you'll need to stay in a secure facility planetside. No doubt about it though, as a known invasive species, they will return you to your natural habitat with not a hair out of place."
"Well... I really don't know. If your legal system is anything like Earth's, I could be stuck out here for years."
"We have the technology to fabricate [TRANSLATION MISSING - Suggestion: Blackjack and hookers.]"
"Deal."
| 2017-05-12T07:54:55 | 2017-05-12T07:53:52 | 1,283 | 122 |
[WP] “Congratulations on defeating The Dark Lord…” Your mentor and all of your allies suddenly turn their weapons on you, “…but you were meant to be a martyr. Forgive us.”
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Aria felt no anger when the blade entered her back, only disappointment. The blade felt cold as it slipped between a gap in her armor. And as it left, a sticky warmth began soaking her shirt.
The only mild shock was who had done it. “You couldn’t even face me, could you, Ormund?”
An elderly man in dented armor stepped back from his deed. There was a look of shame on his face. None of the other soldiers would look her in the eye either. She had broken bread with them only last night – they had put on a good façade.
“I’m sorry, Aria. This was the only way.” He glared in hatred at the blood on his blade before dropping it. “With this, the cycle of retaliation might finally come to an end.”
There was a low rumble that caused a bit of a disturbance among the soldiers.
“Sir, the castle is collapsing. We should leave.”
Ormund hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Move out.”
As they began to retreat, Aria limped over to the fallen form of the Dark Lord. Her limbs tingled from the effort. With a pained grunt, she sat down on the steps next to him. At the very least, the scene would show that they killed each other in the end. The Dark Lord seemed quite different in death. The hatred had disappeared from his face and only a deep weariness remained. It made sense, with how long the war had dragged. Both sides had lost too much.
“Aria.”
She turned toward the person who had remained. Guilt shone through tear-filled eyes; gloved hands clenched and unclenched in frustration.
“Maxwell.” She gave him a small smile. “You should go. It’s dangerous to stay here.”
“Why didn’t you run?” His voice was hoarse from emotions.
The whispered conversation from the previous night came to mind. He had tried so hard to warn her of their plans.
“Because Ormund has a point.” She leaned back with a groan. “Maybe with this, things can finally move toward peace. Both sides have lost too much to continue with this war. With a bit of time, maybe the hatred can finally dissipate.”
“Will it though?” There was a bit of heat in his words.
“They’re just like us. You saw that village that we razed. They were just trying to live their lives in peace. They only fought in self-defense. Yet we destroyed them just like how their soldiers burned the village of Refftin.” She let out a bitter laugh; her limbs felt cold now. “We’re just as guilty as any of the enemy soldiers. If I had one wish, it would be that some kind of peace can come from my death.”
“Aria…”
“Go. They might suspect something if you dawdle too much.” She pulled off her necklace, imbued with protective magics. “Tell them you were gathering proof of my death.”
His hands trembled as he took the delicate trinket from her.
“I’m sorry.” The tears were flowing down his cheeks now.
“Chin up, Maxwell. Peace will come soon.”
And with that, he ran off down the hallway. Aria let out another shaky breath. In the time they had spoken, a pool of blood had formed around her, slowly mixing with the blood from the Dark Lord.
“What an end.” She laid back on the stairs.
It was uncomfortable, but she could barely feel it anymore.
“I never even knew your name.” She coughed weakly. “Same for you, I imagine. How pathetic is that?”
The corners of her vision began to blur. She closed her eyes even as the tears finally fell.
“I pray peace can finally come to this land.”
And on the fifth day of the Month of Harvest, Aria Holspitter, hero of the Aubrian Dynasty, died.
...
Cue plot where the Hero and Dark Lord are born to a mother and father from the two races.
If you're interested in my works, an archive of my various writing responses can be found in my writing portfolio, link through my profile.
Thanks for reading.
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I immediately raise the shield in my right hand to block the axe of my childhood friend, now turned on me. “Biggs!” I shout at him. “Why are you doing this?!”
My mentor, a middle-aged witch named Lightbringer, raises her staff and summons a large fireball to shoot in my direction. “The prophecy must come true, in just the way it was foretold. You, the noble hero princess, giving her life to vanquish the Dark Lord Ohma.”
I scream from pure frustration. “But we killed him, and I’m still here, safe and sound! I found a way to defeat the Dark Lord without giving my own life! Isn’t this *better* than the prophecy...? Isn’t this better than what we were all expecting...?”
Biggs swings his axe once more. I can tell his heart’s not in it, from the look in his eyes. “Sera... I wish you could live. But who knows what’ll happen if we defy the prophecy? I don’t know a lot about magic, but Lightbringer does and if she says this is how it has to be, then I trust her.” He’s holding back tears, and he doesn’t want to be the one to take his best friend’s life, but he still means what he says. He takes a deep breath, and practically whispers “I’m sorry...”
Behind me, I can hear the battle cry of the thief we befriended on our quest, a girl a couple years younger than me named Jack. She swings her daggers and I just barely dodge. “Y’know none of us want it to be this way. So why do you wanna make it so hard for us?!” she shouts angrily before attacking again.
I raise my shield to block her blades, and then thrust it forward to knock her off her feet. “Because it doesn’t have to be this way...” I say, trying and failing to hold back tears. “This whole time we were looking for a way to defeat the Dark Lord without any one of us dying, and we found it. Now you’re just gonna kill me anyway?”
Lightbringer fires hundreds of small shards of ice in my direction and I roll out of the way, mostly evading them save for one that grazes my shoulder and one that hits right below my knee. “This is how it has to be, Seraphina. You can’t change destiny; Your death is meant to go down in history as the tale of the noble princess who gave her own life for her kingdom.”
I give up on trying to change their minds after I hear the coldness in her voice, the determination to make things happen just as she foretold them.
I take a few steps back and look between Biggs and Jack, still in disbelief that they would side with some stupid words spoken by a witch, over the girl who was supposedly their best friend. “Y’know what? I’m outta here. Go on and tell them whatever you want, but I’m not gonna die for your prophecy.”
I hastily run out of the Dark Lord’s lair, while Lightbringer commands my former allies to chase me down. They chase me through the palace for a while, but I eventually lose them in the library.
Safe at last, I finally allow myself to sob. It’s not a very heroic look, but I’m all by myself, and even if I weren’t, I’m done trying to be the hero that Lightbringer made me into.
I don’t know what I’ll do now. I can’t go home, Lightbringer and the others would find me in an instant. My only choice is to travel the continent, on the run and evading my friends-turned-enemies.
I was aware that my quest wouldn’t be followed by a neat and tidy little “happily ever after.” But I had no clue that things would only get harder after I vanquished the Dark Lord.
| 2021-09-12T11:03:59 | 2021-09-12T10:54:08 | 168 | 87 |
[WP] When Voldemort was about to enter the Potters home, he didn't expect the most powerful witches to be protecting Harry and his family. Not even his immortality could protect him from the combined wrath of Mary Poppins and Mrs. Frizzle.
|
As Voldemort neared the front door the house was illuminated in a bright yellow light and the sound of an electric horn. Glancing over his shoulder he could see a rather irate red head driving a muggle school bus directly at him.
"Wingardium Leviosa," shouts Volemort and he points toward the bus with his wand sending it soaring through the air only to stop mid-air and slowly return to the ground. The driver is as shocked as The Dark Lord.
Without warning a red streak of light shot through Voldemort, bringing him to his knees outside the Potter House. Lilly and James Potter stood at the window cradling their baby in shock at what they see.
The Dark Lord crippled on the ground, he looks toward the shadows asking, "Who are you?!"
A man with blue skin and a red mohawk steps out. With a whistle sends his red beam of light through Voldemort's skull.
"I'm Mary Poppins Ya'll!"
----
Sorry if it's not very good.
|
Mrs Frizzle summons her bus in order to go inside Voldemort and destroy him with its enlargement but she was too late.
“Imperio,” he whispers.
Lily Potter, holding her baby protectively suddenly feels a wash of pure happiness and hears a voice in her head commanding her to shake her baby boy.
A look of horror fills the face of Mary Poppins as she knows best how bad it is to shake babies. She had to stop others from shaking their babies and usually succeeded; although occasionally permanent brain damage beyond her power to heal occurs, she’s never lost a child. She shouts in horror, “No! Don’t shake Harry!”
Lily snaps out of the curse seemingly in time. Her baby boy still alive. The distraction, however, allowed Voldemort an opportunity to escape.
That night, Lily and Mary watch the baby, trying their best healing magic while James and Mrs Frizzle stand guard.
| 2018-10-18T00:25:45 | 2018-10-17T20:57:49 | 44 | 21 |
[WP] You are death row's last meal chef. Today's condemned prisoner killed your daughter.
|
Five years had passed since the great Cow Uprising had bucked the yoke of the oppressive humans. Most of the farmers and slaughterhouse owners had been rounded up and put to death ages ago, but Frank had managed to slip into the underworld- the system of tiny tunnels that ran under the human cities, too small for the cows to enter.
But now they had caught him - murderer of thousands upon thousands of innocent cows, not the least, Browning's daughter - this one was personal.
It was hard for Browning to cook, with the hooves and all, but he managed. He fulfilled Frank's last request: hamburger and fries. The meat, a pound of flesh, he had donated from the mass of his own body...it was surreal cooking your own body. But it would be worth it...because in less than 24 hours that farmer would be shoved into the arena. And there, in front of thousands of bleating sheep and mooing cows, Browning would take his time goring him to death.
He would be even.
"Enjoy your burger, Frank." Browning thought, "Soon, you will be ground meat."
|
I look at the slip of paper. I go through lots of these but when you've been here as long as I have you gain this uncanny habit of eying out the names of the soon-to-be departed... It's all as well though, this job is slower, easier than the job of actually handing the food to prisoners as in low security... I turned over the last sheet and gasped. This man... Killed my daughter! He was supposed to be stuck in Colorado with their no death-penalty policy... And now he is here! Scum... I can already hear his final wails echoing throughout the room... I scoop one ball of rice and a ball of "vegetables" then I drop a brownie in the tray that sounds like a rock. Good thing I don't have to eat these. I hand the tray off to Steve, who is making food runs. Good thing we don't do last meal requests in Texas or my job would be a lot harder!
| 2015-07-04T09:48:47 | 2015-07-04T09:45:58 | 131 | 14 |
[WP] "But...this place is my home!" He stopped pacing around and stared at me in annoyance, "You've died 349 times in this place...and yet still you call this place 'home'?"
Edit: How did this get famous? Lmao
|
"I'm not leaving." I sat down, arms crossed over my body. The angel, —no longer in their most unnerving form of spinning eyes,— sat down across from me. They looked exasperated.
"Despite my best efforts, I've lost count of how many times-"
"349." I interrupted. I hadn't lost count. The angel got up — they seemed to have difficulty sitting still— and began pacing.
"This is nonsense, this place is obviously dangerous and horrible. Why do you want to stay?" They asked, gesturing around them.
"Because. It's my home." I said. They stopped in their tracks, staring at me. It was hard to tell if they were annoyed or incredulous. Probably both. We stayed that way for a few minutes, the angel obviously searching for words.
"You've died 349 times. Here. And you still call it home?" The tone suggested that the angel was questioning my sanity. Perhaps they had a right to. They had been with me since the beginning.
"What else would you call the place you live in? That you love, and that you feel most comfortable in? That holds all the people you care about, and who care about you?" My voice cracked a little on the last few words. In my last death, I had lost one of those people. Scrubbing a hand over their face, the angel once again plopped down.
"I wasn't asking for your definition of the word home. I just don't understand why it has to be here. Why not anywhere else? I've been given permission to take you anywhere you like. Instantly, with no lasting repercussions."
"Anywhere?" I asked, knowing that one word would give the angel hope. Sure enough, they sat up straighter, eyes fixing on mine. I pretended to think. "Well, I quite like that hill over there, been trying to get there for a while...." Trailing off, I watched as the angel slumped. They were a bit predictable.
"Look. I like it here. And I've told you before. You don't have to stay. I know it would probably be a better mark on your record if you left." The angel was shaking their head before I finished the sentence.
"It's my job to guard you. That's what I am, and even if you choose to live here," they shuddered. "Then that's what I'm going to do."
I rose, dusting off my linen pants. The landscape around me, painted in tones of red, orange, yellow and black shifted in the edges of my vision. Holding out a hand to the angel, I smiled.
"Well then. Let's get wandering. There's a lot of ground to cover before we can rest." Taking my hand the angel rose, starting to shimmer into their terrifying form. I began walking, knowing they'd catch up. Being sent here might have been a clerical error when I first had a near-death experience. But I hadn't been lying. It was my home. A slight hissing noise came from behind me. My guardian angel had caught up, and travelling together, we began our endless journey across Hell. My home.
|
# Soulmage
**"I'm sorry, I've done** ***what*** **three hundred and forty-nine times?"** I asked, blanching.
Sansen grimaced. "Sorry. The oracular trance... I've seen you die here, three hundred and forty-nine times. In three hundred and forty-eight futures that never were."
"Wait." I set down my cup of slurry. "How did I die three hundred and forty-*nine* times if you only looked into three hundred and forty-*eight* futures?"
"Necromancer in one of them," Sansen idly said, waving a hand. "Look, the point is this. Remember the Battle of Silentfell?"
I shuddered. "How could I not? I still have nightmares about Odin and his forces tromping up and down the streets and blowing up everything in sight."
"Yeah. Well. I was an oracle trying to keep the people I love safe. I'm not trying to diminish your traumas or anything, but... you only lived through that battle in real time, once. I *died* through it more times than you can count."
"But you can count them," I murmured.
Sansen closed his eyes. "Every single one," he agreed.
Put that way... I could totally see why Sansen had hidden his oracular abilities when the draft for the war came. If the poor old man had gone through hell and back just to survive one battle, I shuddered to think what those freaks in the Silent Parliament would do if they got their hands on him for the course of an entire war.
And I could see why Sansen wanted to leave the city.
"This place..." I hesitated, then continued. "It's the closest thing I have to a home. Ever since Sorrowfell was destroyed for the last time."
Sansen tilted his head, and for some reason the old man looked curiously puppyish.
"But..." Memories flashed behind my eyes as I stared around the old, solid wooden house. *Here* was where I'd hidden in the saferoom with Sansen as Odin's forces entered the mountain. *There* was the church where I'd been shoved out of the teleportation circle and stranded in the middle of a warzone. "It's getting worse," I finally said. "The only thing that makes this home is my friends and family."
Sansen gave me a tired smile. "You can take those with you," he said.
"I can take them with me," I agreed.
He stood and held out a hand. "I'll be packing. Three days from today."
I raised an eyebrow. "That an oracle's prediction?"
"It's your uncle's promise."
I smiled and took his hand, and the old man hauled me to my feet.
Then I left the house that Sansen and his husband had built with their own two hands, to gather my friends and tell them to flee.
A.N.
Soulmage will be episodically updated. Want to know what happens next? Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out! There's already thirty-one other chapters before this one, so there's plenty to catch up on.
| 2022-06-09T05:23:28 | 2022-06-09T05:00:58 | 326 | 66 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D
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Dear me:
That boy isn’t going to text back, it’s Saturday and he saw your message on Thursday. You always do this, you said you weren’t going to get attached, you barely have feelings for him. You don’t want anything but companionship from him, you say to yourself. But you know you want the whole thing: you want him to look at you the way you like, you want him to compliment on your hair, you want him to ask you how your day is going. But you also know he’s not your romeo. Nobody is. you are alone and you refuse to feel lonely. You love yourself but you found that you’ve always craved another part of you since when you were little. But you crossed seven seas, only to get desperate because he is not here, there, or anywhere.
Sincerely,
a hopeless romantic
|
Dear Teacher,
This is letter that will try to explain my frustration. My constant frustration. You are an unkind human being of ~~average~~ below average intelligence. You are also sexist. I am not going to overstate my intelligence, but it exists. I am scared of you destroying my future because you can not comprehend that just because one kid is a boy who interrupts you every second and I don't that does not mean he deserves all As and I deserve Cs and Ds. You also seem to ignore students who put their hand up, which makes no sense. Multiple times someone has been first in line and you serve the people behind them, which is just rude. I wish that students had the option to say this without punishment, but at this point, dammit, I'll take it.
From your angry student,
EFoxeden
| 2015-12-05T14:46:28 | 2015-12-05T13:38:34 | 158 | 24 |
[WP] All bodies of water across the world randomly freeze at the top. The ice is unbreakable, but everyone trapped under the ice is suddenly able to breath underwater. Everyone trapped underwater loses contact with the world above. After years of isolation, the water ice finally breaks.
Water’s*;)
|
"You can't imagine how horrible it was!"
I nodded calmly as my current patient told me her story. This wasn't the first person I had treated, nor would it be the last. This traumatic event affected everyone, whether they were Swimmers or not.
My last patient had been the only member of her family who had been on the beach when the Ice appeared, and she couldn't get over her feelings of guilt after moving on, getting married, and having another child. Who could blame her though? No one though those under water would still be alive years later.
Back to my current patient, though.
"Why don't you start from the beginning?" I asked soothingly.
She sobbed, then brokenly started her story.
"It was a party. My son, he had just finished his first year of college. He always loved the water..."
She stopped suddenly, hyperventilating. I leaned forward in my seat.
"It's OK, take your time. You'll feel better once you let it all out."
I passed her a Kleenex box as she nodded. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she continued.
"If I ever see a body of water larger than a bathtub, I think I might throw up. It was horrible, absolutely horrible. The days passed so slowly and everything was so monotonous! And the worst part was that I could see them, but they couldn't see me. I was so close! But the ice, the stupid ice, it wouldn't break. I tried and tried but no matter what I did, it stayed solid and strong and impenetrable."
She paused for a moment. I let her gather her thoughts as I made a few notes in my book. Really, I didn't have to do this, every session was recorded, but most people found it easier to talk if I wasn't looking at them.
"It was heartbreaking. They never gave up. It almost would have been better for me if they had moved on, found a new home, made a new life, if they were happy. I wouldn't have begrudged them that. But they stayed, faithful and loyal, year after year, not knowing if I was even alive. And I still love them! I do! I'm just, I'm having so much trouble adjusting. As awful a life as it was, it was a life, and I got used to it, and things are so different now! I don't want to be unfair to them, and I don't want to worry them more than I already have, which I why I came to you."
I looked her directly in the eye.
"And that's a good thing, that you're here willingly, you know why you're here, and you have a goal in mind. And I will help you, I promise. It will take some effort, but I can help you adjust to society again. No doubt it will be a tough transition, but your family loves you, and they will do everything they can to help you. You have a strong support system, which is essential. Now, why don't you go back to the beginning. Tell me more about the day it happened."
"Well, like I said, it was a party. My son had always loved the water, so when my husband and me moved, we made sure to find a home that had a pool in the water. All of his friends were there, it was a gorgeous summer day, the water was so refreshing. When the food was ready, everyone got out. I was just too slow."
|
They had reemerged like dazed drunks stepping into the bright sunlight after a night of heavy drinking, stumbling onto the sandy shores, holding their pale hands up to the sun. That sunny day in July, I was relaxing on a beach with no waves as the oceans, lakes, rivers, every body of water on earth had frozen five years prior. The ground had begun to shake, softly at first, and then suddenly, the ice cracked, the sound seemingly resonating in my very soul as the frozen shield shattered. We watched in awe as the ice melted and sank within minutes, and then, as if they'd been waiting for this very moment, people began to shuffle onto the shore.
They closely resembled the zombies that I had read about in my books, their skin pale and wrinkled, but unlike the zombies, these people were naked. They came in waves. Nude person after nude person, they struggled to make their way onto the beach, water still dripping from their chins... until I realized it wasn't water. The sunlight hit a man close to me at just the right angle, and I saw that what clung to his neck wasn't left over salt water, but actual flaps of skin. Gills, to be more specific. The man glanced curiously at me, his gills flapping as they struggled to breathe.
He shuffled forward, his eyes widening with fear, his naked body resting like sagging clothes on his bones. Fighting back the urge to vomit, I let the man approach me, my feet rooted in place in the shifting sand. When the man was close, his foot caught on something buried in the ground, and he fell, his arms reflexively reaching out to catch something- which just so happened to be me. I supported his body weight with mine, his hands freezing cold as he regained his balance.
"W-what year is it?" Water dribbled from his mouth as he spoke, his voice weak and faint.
"It's 2018." I replied. I could feel other people's eyes on me as they wondered how I could be so calm.
He dropped his hands from my arms, staring at the ground in confusion. "No... it- it was longer! He said we were... there's a reason! There's a reason!"
He jerked away suddenly, raucous coughs causing him to double over. When he finished, he removed his hand from his mouth, a sickly red color staining the sheet-white hue that had been there before. I glanced up momentarily to behold a scene straight out of a horror movie. All the people who had emerged from the oceans were gazing at their hands, which even from this distance I could tell were covered in blood, and then, before the other beach-goers could react, the gilled-people attacked. Wet bodies collided with dry bodies, screams rang through the air, and the gilled-people moved with a speed and precision I had never thought possible.
A mass of people, some running, some being dragged, were headed towards the ocean, towards the churning waters that reached for us in hunger, like a beast that was itching to feed. My stomach felt like an iron weight in my gut, and my eyes slowly turned back to the man in front of me.
He was standing fully upright, his gaze cold and menacing.
"There's a reason we came back." He hissed, and then he threw me to the ground.
__________________________
EDIT: Ninja edit to fix the beginning
| 2018-07-05T17:06:21 | 2018-07-05T14:32:07 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] You, a normal human, have somehow become the best duelist at a magic academy.
|
"Do your worst!" Sneered the Fey creature opposite me.
We stood 6 feet apart, each in a magic circle of our own design. Erebor had decorated his with sigil, a few runes and some small crystals, all designed to drawer the magical essence of the environment and enhance his particular brand of magic.
Mine was mostly stones and rocks, nothing special. As Erebor began his incantation, arms and fingers waving through the air, I squatted down and sorted through them. Most of the students here based their attacks on various alchemy or sacred texts but I just needed something solid.
The hairs stood up on my neck, I'd have to be quick or the damned fairy might actually get a shot in. That's the thing with true magic. It yakes concentration, time, effort. Amazing results of course but, still slow.
Ah! That'd do. I hefted the half brick as I stood up, hefted it for a second to channel my 'powers'.
Erebor was really building up to something. His eyes had gone all neon and everything. Time to act then.
I drew the rough hewn brick back and prepared to, once again, dazzle the academy with my stunning wit, and let fly. Could hardly miss him at this distance.
"Oy! Have this dickhead!"
|
"Alright, that's enough!" the proctor yelled.
A bit later than I expected, though I imagine it took them a moment to shake off the shock.
"Return to your team..." they demanded.
I pulled myself off my opponent, my blood-soaked fists still dripping, and walked away.
They were so smug as they hurled their first spell at me. A large ball of swirling red and orange flames. The smug grin faltered slightly when I emerged unscathed. I began running at them. The next spell, a barrage of icy spikes, shattered harmlessly against my body. I was close now. Their last panicked spell came in the form of a lightning bolt out of their hands. Pure energy coursing around me, dissipating without effect. My fist connected with their face. Again, and again, and again, until I was called off by the Proctor.
That smug look was firmly wiped off and replaced with a bloodied, swollen, and bruised mass of flesh and teeth. The rest of the student body watched on in horror.
What's the point of me being here?
I don't even believe in magic.
| 2022-11-10T13:48:32 | 2022-11-10T12:45:02 | 30 | 16 |
[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 take it", I said to the manager of the antique store. He had been describing the ceremonial katana to me for the past ten minutes. It was supposed to be three hundred years old, used only once by some monarch in Japan to exact revenge on his thieving half brother.
I paid the final $700 I had left in my bank account to the manager and walked out, ready to deal the final blow to my little thieving friend.
As I got into my car to head to his house, I thought about how exhausting the past few weeks had been. I had already implemented half of my revenge plans. From what I heard in news, he was extremely devasted.
I had already killed his only son last week. An entire kilogram of HCN mixed in his school's cafeteria food. Some may say that that was too much, but I had to be sure that he would be dead. Sure, other students at his school suffered, but collateral damage happens in any sort of cleansing.
His wife, though, she was a tough nut. An ex-LAPD ironically. She was not happy with the marriage, as anyone can guess. Apparently, depts had been mounting up for the last five years. So I called her. "we have an opening", I said, "personal protection to an important individual. Six figure pay". She agreed. I met with her in an alleyway. She should've know better than to just trust anyone offering money blindly.
"your husband is to blame for this", I said to her as I quickly pulled out a desert eagle. But before I could fire, she had pinned, in the blink of an eye.
Till that point I was hoping I wouldn't need to pull out that stupid drone. But she has me against a wall, about to call 911.
This drone was programmed to come to my location, identify the aggressor, and gun them down with the mini gun attached to it. And I could initiate that program with just a thought, which I did. We are truly in the future.
Anyway. So before she could call up the cops, I could hear the drone coming in the distance. Two seconds later, it was finally there. She was dead before she could look up. The drone had fired accurately, and painted the alleyway walls with her guts. Quite an exhilarating experience, if I do say so myself.
I finally reached his house. It was being protected by the police. All I needed was a small distraction to make them go away. I had a bag full of hand grenades. So I tossed about a hundred of them their way. The explosions were quite spectacular.
Without wasting a moment, I stormed in to what was left of his house. He was lying on the floor, visibly injured. I had studied human anatomy extensively this past week, and knew exactly what to do. I walked up to him and quickly cut across his jugular vein. Blood started spraying in all directions. My body was ready. I stood in front of his body with open arms as his blood covered my entire being. It tasted delicious. This was not only a compensation for my $10, but also a triumph over evil.
Unfortunately, this meant that I had to return to my daily routine starting Monday next week. I also had to think about the $86000 hole in my account. That would be quite boring, if I do say so myself.
|
When you put things down on paper, things sound stupid, this phase usually begins once you start to question your actions. Now this, my friends, is a stupid story and it all began the day I won the darn money.
"34, 37, 12, 96, 25" screamed the radio during the warm and slightly humid month of August. I looked at the damp ticket in my hand and turns out they were the magical numbers. I was thrilled to have won something like this. Never had I ever held faith in something like this. "Lucky me!" I thought to myself as I made my way to the radio station in my beat up Ford. The transaction was quicker than I thought it would be and I crawled tiredly into my cramped, shit hole of an apartment. Things were looking so good for me and I was happy, really really happy. I could now easily pay my alimony. I decided not to rush it and deposited all the money into bank.
I sat down on my couch and tried to relax, but this was overwhelming, it really was. I called up my bud Jake and told him about the news. No one really knows you until you got the dough (hey don't judge me, I know 80k doesn't qualify to be "dough" but it is a lot). I was a relatively lonely human being. I worked at the local laundromat. It had a crappy pay and I was borrowing money from my parents to pay for the house. Jake and I went to have some pizza, I obviously insisted that I would pay. 30$, nothing fancy. Turns out Jake the cunt saw me enter my pin and made a transaction on the internet. My phone beeped and a link led me to the purchase. It was a Minecraft player skin. I called up Jake but he must've blocked me. I was enraged, I head out to the bank to get my pin changed. I never knew where Jake lived, we met up at the occasional party and then at the Bar, but that was about it.
I was determined to find out where this guy lived, he stole my 10$. I needed to find him. In these scenarios money doesn't play a major role no matter how it sounds, it's the individuals shortcomings that do. I flipped through craigslist and found a private detective willing to search for the guy at just 10$ an hour, it was a steal. Two months quickly ran by, I was chilling in my new apartment when I got a phone call from my guy, "YOU GOT SCAMMED, YOU DUMB SHIT"
No worries. I hire two private detectives this time. One to track Jake and one to track the guy from craigslist. I quickly drained 30 grand over the next 3 months.
Finally, my guy found Jake. He was in Ohio. I then killed him in an alleyway and a homeless man saw me commit the crime and even recorded it on his flip phone. I was convicted of 1st degree murder and plead guilty. I lost the rest of my money paying my lawyer. But whatever. Jake can't use his dumb Minecraft skin now.
I am sorry that this story is full of shit. I don't know how to write and would appreciate tips
| 2017-07-18T09:47:53 | 2017-07-18T09:02:52 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] You just finished training and have virtually no experience, so you were surprised when you were hired as a bodyguard for the prince\ess on their trip. Turns out the king meant to have them assassinated, and purposefully chose an inexperienced guard. Unfortunately for him, you're a natural.
|
The carriage jostled to and fro as the royal caravan meandered around the twisted mountain roads. I tapped my scabbard nervously to distract myself from the twisted feeling in my gut.
"Are you alright?" Prince Taverell asked.
"Just fine," I said too quickly. The prince looked at me with a furrowed brow. "Your highness," I tacked on to the end of my embarrassment.
"No, please," Prince Taverell said with a laugh. "No need for useless superlatives. If you're to be my bodyguard, we must be much closer than the veil which formalities offer."
He glanced out the window to his right at the passing trees as they sloped up the mountain. I didn't dare look to look out my own, as the treacherous drop to the valley below was all I would see.
"Plus, I'm hardly worthy of the titles anyway. At least that's how my Father feels."
I stared awkwardly at my feet, unable to respond constructively. Personal conversation with royalty was not part of my basic training. Nor should it have been, as I was only intending to serve in the royal army. To be the personal guard for the Prince was hardly in my deepest sights, and even my instructors leered with envy as my assignment was announced at graduation.
The Prince didn't need to hear a word from my mouth to gleen lack of wisdom in royal intrigue. I'm sure he could read my blank look on my face.
"How long have you been training for this job?" asked the Prince, quite pointedly.
I froze, terrified to reveal the truth. But I was saved in that moment, as the carriage suddenly came to a halt. We heard the neighing of horses and then absolute silence. The prince and I could only hear our own breathing.
"I'll check out what's wrong," I said out of duty. Inside, I was panicking about the strange change in atmosphere.
I climbed out of the carriage and nearly choked on my own vomit. The road was littered with bodies, guards and royal assistants strewn all around.
I pulled my sword out, the only real piece of training I got. *If something's wrong, your sword should be drawn.* It was a bad rhyme, but it helped in this instance.
As I raised my sword to the ready, I felt it vibrate in my hand with a loud clang. I looked up and saw an attacker, dressed all in black, hanging from atop the carriage. Without as much of a thought, I climbed up and charged the attacker with my sword, running him through. He dropped off the side and tumbled down the steep slope. It was then I saw three more just in front of the carriage.
"Is everything alright?" asked the Prince.
"Not at all," I said.
________
Have to end it here as its dinner time for the family. Thanks for the prompt!
Edit: Part 2 posted below!
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What is this utter fool of guard doing? How can he be still alive? How can I still be alive? This was supposed to be an easy trip, go to Mount Doom, pick an eternal flower for my new parfum and go back. Of course, daddy gave me one of the amateur guards. I chuckle quietly to myself when Sir Leonold tripped over a stone and fell. Surely he will now finally die to the vicious beast before him. With it’s venomous fangs, the small wings and the green scales the wyvern was a real challenge even for the mightiest Knights in daddies army. Utterly impossible to defeat in a first battle.
“HUAAA” and Leonold attacked with his sword once again, doesn’t he know that a wyverns scales are nearly indestructible?
Wait a second, what is this? Did he really leave a scratch? And the wyvern seems to be…. In pain? What is happening?
As the monster flees, I run towards the young warrior. One deep breath, act scared. “Are you hurt? Ohh my brave hero, but how were you able to scare this mighty predator? My Father, the King, sure was wise to send someone as talented as thy with me.” Is thy even in fashion? And did I use it right? Whatever, he will not doubt a princess. But seriously, how did he do it?
“Fear not My’lady, the combat skills of the Guard can slay any beast that dares to stand in our way.” Ohh great, so he has no idea what he has done and that it shouldn’t even be possible. Father surely choose the biggest Idiot. I take a deep breath as I help him up from the ground. What’s this? Lavender? That explains why the wyvern fled, but why does he have it on his sword? There were no mentions of any Wyvern in his briefing. And there are only a handful of people who know about the lavender tactic anyway. Strange indeed.
“Princess Quenbe, are you okay? The beast is gone, we should go fast before it comes back. Or better yet turn back, first the Troll, then the bandits and now a wyvern? I thought these went extinct 2 Kings ago. You should be lucky that you have me with you, but against such enemies I can’t guarantee for your safety, even if I am willing to give my life.” He says firmly as he blindly tries to sheath his sword. After two attempts he realizes he has the sheath on the wrong site and readjusts it.
“Getting murderd is kinda the point you idiot” I think as I sigh and stand up and motion him to continue. Let’s hope, that the next monster can end us both. Dying on this mission could be harder than I thought, but my resolve is strong and even this fool will run out of luck sometimes.
| 2020-11-23T14:07:41 | 2020-11-23T13:53:57 | 54 | 14 |
[WP] You die and appear before the Devil and seven other individuals. They applaud you and the Devil exclaims, “finally, an eighth deadly sin!”
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My eyes darted back and forth between the beings that stood around me, all focused on my face as I came to. I started to get up and heard boisterous cheers and whistles. I was held down by a crushing weight around me. I felt like I was breathing fire. Is this... hell?
But wasn't this all made up? Red goat face, minions with pitchforks, pit of flames... Yet, the figures around me were unmistakable in demeanor. Every one of the eight, including the devil himself were the creatures that stood before me, each practically oozing their "sin." And if I just heard correctly, I am their newest addition.
I can't say it doesn't make sense. Ever since I was a kid, I had an unexplainable sense of duty in distributing as many chips and candies as I could to my classmates. As an adult- drugs, alcohol, sex were all my game. I'd always been way too good at persuasion; this wasn't without the helpful voices in my head, guiding my every move and helping me read my "victims" to see how I could best indulge them. Of course, I'd always questioned how all of the things necessary for me to keep "sharing" would seemingly materialize before my eyes (a needle kit in a freshly cleaned hotel bathroom, cigarettes and lighters in my shirt pocket, a bottomless purse at the casino). But it all makes so much sense now that I'm here...
All my life, I felt like I'd been surrounded by people with an all or nothing attitude. But I now realize that it was all my doing.
"Welcome home, Addiction," said Satan as he offered me his hand to help me up. "We had been waiting so long."
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They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die, but it didnt happen for me. In fact I didnt get anything. Just black out and fade into a dimly lit room.
"Candles? The fuck is this? A fucking Bath and body works?"
The large room contained eight beings of which I paid no mind.
I wandered up to the table in the centre an sat down at the head chair.
"That's my seat! How dare you take the seat of the prince of hell!" A pretty looking fellow with fucking angel wings was shouting at me.
"Listen skippy, I'm not sure what you expect?" I waved my hand at him dismissively.
"The fucking balls on this one? Mmmm I like him." I turned to take in the sultry voice of a female in tight leather pants. She was stunning yet, like my daughter, you know, looked like the type who gobbled dick, more dick than a coked out Daniel Tosh.
"I'd grab you by the pussy" I winked at her.
"Remove yourself from my seat!" The pretty angel guy was not letting this go anytime soon.
I removed my left shoe and tossed it at his perfect face. It struck him square in the nose and he fell backwards in shock.
The others surrounded him and helped him to his feet.
"Alright my little muppets." I said standing from the chair. My left foot landing something squishy that I paid no mind too.
"Allow me to introduce myself, I'm goddamned Donald mother fucking Trump!"
| 2019-01-12T22:19:40 | 2019-01-12T15:27:37 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside."
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"It wasn't my phone that woke me up, but my wife. She's always been a lighter sleeper than me, and even though I had it on silent, the constant stream of notification vibrations was making the phone shuck and jive all over my nightstand.
"Honey. Hoooooooney. HONEY!" I came awake to a rough shake accompanying the words. "Yeahwah?" I managed, blearily.
"Your phone. Somebody is blowing you up."
"Must be my other girlfriend." An old joke, wildly inappropriate considering what was to follow. "Mmhhmm." She mumbled, already well on her way back to sleep. I checked the bedside clock; the red LED showing 3 am on the nose. Weird. I leaned awkwardly, half awake, and grabbed my phone, and had to do a doubletake when I saw the notifications. 186 texts, 93 missed calls, and one emergency notification. What. The Actual. Fuck? I thought, ok, this is a dream, must be a dream. I don't even know 186 people. Ok. Must be a natural disaster on the way. Or did Kim Jong Un launch nukes at the west coast? Shit.
With slightly shaking hands, I thumbed the official notification, expecting the worst. I held my breath.
"DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
Wait, what? The feeling of surreal vertigo intensified. The logical part of my brain was continuing to insist that this was, this MUST, be a dream, must be a dream, must be...
"Shut up, shut up." I whispered to myself, climbing out of bed. I was awake now, fully, rigidly awake, and so I decided to take my phone to the living room to investigate further. Plopping down on the couch, I started scrolling through texts. "Curiouser and curiouser," I mumbled to myself, looking at the texts. None of them from numbers I recognized. Some of them...not even from phone numbers. Entries from numbers with only 8 digits, or 6, or 2. Entries with letters and numbers mixed together. Entries with letters and numbers and Chinese characters mixed in. Emojis and symbols mixed in. My disquiet was growing steadily. I clicked the first message.
"Wow, look at the moon! It's so big and beautiful. Amazing, isn't it"
So, ok, my brain responded. Not a dream. A practical joke. Someone is messing with me. With my phone. I wonder if my wife is in on this. I clicked the next text.
"It's such a beautiful night tonight. Just look! The moon looks amazing. It's so big!"
"Look at the moon! Wow, it looks so cool! Look honey!"
Something about the "honey" sent a chill up my spine. My wife, shaking me awake, popped back into my mind, unbidden.
"Look at that moon out over the water honey!" It looks so huge so close to the horizon. Why does it do that?"
"It's such a beautiful night honey, look! Wow, the moon looks awesome!"
And as I was reading these, I realized, I could hear a voice speaking the words. Quietly, like they were coming from very far away, repeating, looping over each other, blurring speeding up, slowing down, warping.
Look at the moon, go outside, look at the moon, go outside, look at the moon, it's a beautiful night, go look at the moon."
Mustering all the calm I could, I set my phone, face down, on the couch. Some still logical functionality commanded me to turn on the TV. Turn on the news. Yes. Normalcy. Emergency broadcast system. Yes. That's a good idea. I turned it on. It's 3 am, surely more than a minute has passed but it says 3 am, right there in the corner of the screen, 3:00AM PDT, and even though it's the middle of the night, there's Anderson Cooper, and he's staring at me, I swear he's looking right at me, and suddenly turning on the news seems like it was a really bad idea.
"West coast residents are being warned tonight not to look at the moon. Authorities are warning that looking at the moon might destroy your life and could unravel the very fabric of reality. Ben, DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON."
I pressed the power button again on the remote and the TV shut off. Heart trying to thud its way out of my chest, I stood, and walked back towards my bedroom. Somehow, I knew before I opened the door that my wife would be awake, and she was. She was sitting up, her face lit by her phone screen.
"I shouldn't have told you to look at the moon, honey. I'm sorry."
"Wait, what? Are you?...Are you in on this too? What is going on!"
She looked down, and started crying. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm so so sorry."
I rushed over and sat down hard on the bed, right in front of her. "Sorry for what!" I demanded, panic seizing control of me as I grabbed her shoulders. "Sorry for WHAT! What THE FUCK is going on!!?? Sorry for what??!!"
She stopped crying, and smiled. Her eyes were far away, glazed, almost robotic. "Oh WOW!" she said "Wow, honey, it's such a beautiful night tonight! Just look at the moon!"
I let go of her shoulders, and stood up. I walked calmly, out of the room, out through the living room to the hall to the back door. I threw it open, feeling like my arms and legs were moving on their own. Like I was merely a passenger. I could feel my pulse in my ears. I stepped out, into my backyard. I tilted my head to the sky, and I looked at the moon.
And then I remembered. God help me, I remembered. Driving along, southbound on coast highway, coming home from a long night. She was tired, dried sweat had warped her perfect hairdo, but she still looked radiant. Face lit by the dash lights, and of course, by the moon. She had sung her heart out tonight, and the crowd had eaten it up. She was a bright shining star, tonight. Hanging out there, seeming mere inches from the horizon, the big, swollen, full face of the moon. Just about to set.
"Oh WOW!" she said "Wow, honey, it's such a beautiful night tonight! Just look at the moon!"
And I did. I took my eyes off the road, and I did. She was right, of course. It was beautiful."
I sighed.
"And then I heard an awful sound, like a loud pop, and we were upside down, flying, weightless, like somehow we had been pulled by the moon into space. The car was full of weird things floating through the air, coins, a pen cap, her mic had even floated in from the back into the front. I had one last look at her face. It was still transitioning from the marvel at the beauty of the moon to the shock of the crash. I tried to reach out my hand, but I seemed to be moving through jello. The moon filled the windshield, seemed to get even bigger, brighter, turned the sky white, turned the whole world white."
I wept a little then. Not as much as I would, later, but a little.
"You know the rest," I said when I had regained my composure. "I came out of the coma. I woke up here."
The officer stared at me, and I could tell she was struggling to keep her face impassive. She felt bad for me, but she didn't want to.
"I'm sorry for your loss." she said, looking down at her notepad. She hadn't taken down a single word of it. "Can you tell me how much you'd had to drink that night?"
I sighed again. Could I? No, not really. Quite a few. Too fucking many.
"No," I answered. "No, I don't think I can."
She nodded. "You're going to need a lawyer. When you're ready to get out of here, I mean."
I looked down at my broken body. Just a mess of wires and tubes and casts. "Yeah," was all I could muster.
She stood, and walked toward the door of my hospital room. She put her hand on the door, and without turning, she asked, "do you think if you'd obeyed the warning, you'd still be in the coma?"
"Yes," I said, quietly. "Yes, I do."
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First the texts. Then the MMS images. Then every insta, fb post, live stream, Reddit post, tweet. Every inbox at 0% capacity as it was all FWD FWD FWD FWD : MOON all the time.
After a few days we realized the vast majority of Internet traffic was solely automated spambots. Everybody else was outside looking at the moon, or sleeping all day wherever they last witnessed the moon..
Tritanopia is a form of color blindness that reduces the blue/yellow/green portion of the spectrum.
Us lucky one in ten thousand were unphased by the moon... Get it? Moon puns.
For reference,
1:10,000 expands to
100,000:1,000,000,000
And there's seven some billion people total, so you'd think seven hundred thousand people would be able to coordinate.
But then you have to look at population densities, distributive models of where tritanopia can be found, how difficult it is to travel when almost everyone is standing in the middle of the road to quietly worship the moon.
Imagine being at a festival with a target audience of docile septuagenarians. You don't like the grateful dead, don't get why
everyone is fixated, just want the whole thing to end. You try making a call on your phone but it just plays Phish songs That's how it felt.
It's like not being a hockey fan in Canada.
So. 700,000 functioning humans remaining. All ages. All ability levels. The vast majority lacking applicable skills or the psychological tenacity required to face this world. I was only 12 when it happened, just on the cusp of being forged by the new world yet with fond memories of the old ways.
Most animals that could look up and had some visual acuity also became enraptured. I wanted to help the animals but I didn't know how.
My first two days I tried to go about my routine as normal. Except there was no more no normal routine. No supply lines, no infrastructure, no social contract. Ran into a lot of lunatic strangers that got a start on the hoarding and mad max fashion early. My family had a close personal bond with either the moon or stolen wholesale liquor, depending on sight abilities.
A tritanopia support myphp forum briefly assembled IRL and tried to stage a coup of world power, but taking over the white house and the UN when there really isn't anyone to enforce your will doesn't matter much. Nobody to answer the phone for the nuclear launch codes, nobody to pop in the 8.5" floppy disks to get the nukes into the sky. Infighting led to the fast dissolution of that group, especially when the yahoo group insurrectionists gained traction.
The moonies just stopped participating. Beat them up, bash them to death in the streets, run them over. No resistance. Just single most minded dedication to the moon. A sadist's mcplayland.
They didn't eat or drink but they didn't die of exposure or dehydration. After a while their skin became ashy during the day. They went from monosyllabic grunts to utter silence.
A bit later, some of them grew wings or horns or scales . Some grew hair and became funky werewolf-gargoyle things.
The transformed congregation moved in packs but continued to stare at the moon. They'd only respond if provoked but you'd be dead before you realized you had provoked them.
Then came the Sound Eternal. Somewhere between Gregorian chanting, Cthulhu summoning , and Tibetan throat singing. Constant, from sun down to sun up. From the beasts, from the people.
It was declared cured five or six times. Half of those just lies from crumbling provisional government. The other half lacked real testing or distribution standards. Giving injections to hoards of swaying gnarly mutants that may lead to heads exploding one way or another wasn't going to work out
And so modified aerial viruses delivered via crop dusters, foggers, modified tear gas canisters, anything that could contain the smoke.
They all cocooned out for a bit after the dusting misused some lies masquerading as legitimate research.
I saw the aftermath and heard the confessions but I can't tell you in great detail how that all went down. Too busy rhen with the fight for survival, a sixteen year old keeping a nuclear reactor running on a submarine turned makeshift unethical medical experimentation laboratory.
The less said, the better. Dark time for submarines.
Most Moonies came out of chrysalis fit as a fiddle, back to full health, lost all the medieval art features.
Lived a mockery of their old routines, spring in their step. Go into the abandoned office to push pieces of paper around and tap keys on unpowered terminals. Then every night, back to the moon gazing.
You were probably born during this time period. Probably not the most rational decision that could've been made, but after surviving weregargoyles the social fabric didn't have much space for rationality.
They'd peruse ransacked grocery stores, exchange idle moon-themed pleasantries with each other. Morning jog through fields of corpses, oblivious. Flip.through the same old magazine until it disintergrated. Barbers and janitors would go to rubble that used to be their workplace and sweep with purposelessness . Tradesmen could sort of resume their jobs, more or less, but only served their own kind. After a few months, they used noise singing to gather a crowd and coordinate at a task, building ungodly architecture overnight or sacrificing a hundred mile long line of people to send an electrical signal from one necropolis to the next.
They'd all look at us and they would know. They would say "better not look at the moon" in the same deadpan attempt of reverse psychology. I'd reply "What a beautiful night out" while bug eyed stating at their moon. And sing about the moon hitting my eye like a big pizza pie. They just didn't understand thar moon magic wouldn't work on my snarky 19 year old deficient peepers. I had fallen into a bad crowd of pharmaceutic redistributors.
I'lll admit I developed a bit of a moon dust habit.The dust made their late 20th century satire of mid 20th century values schtick a little more tolerable. What else is there to do during the longest flash mob installation art piece? Swap rumors and lies about how places beyond the horizon were getting by?
Someone - nobody knows which side - invented glasses that compensated for the color blindness, let the impure finally join the teeming masses. That caught on big once we realized us last few unchanged had successfully flushed all chance of rebuilding or becoming something other than marauder junkies. I was around 22 at the time and in middle of trying to preserve priceless irreplaceable cultural artifacts from the Smithsonian, mostly by defending an adjacent outpost and running a little mercantile ammo shop on the side. Missed out on the suicide sunglasses phase. Gave away the only pair I stumbled across in the ruins to a real go-getter errand runner.
Then, next phase began and their molting started. Human skin left lying around everywhere, giant insectoid snakemen picking fights, the usual. Moondust purity went way down, market nearly tanked. By then I had a cybernetic arm and a laser eye. I spent most of my time in pipes, guarding various keys and providing clues to riddles.
I betrayed everyone that trusted me at every turn and regret nothing. I had once decided to live like a forgettable side quest NPC in a sub-par video game series. But when the laser eye was installed, I could see the full beauty of the moon in all spectrums, even those invisible to the limited human eye.
Didn't take long to round up the remaining twenty thousand some for free laser eye replacement. There's some logistics, sure, but you concentrate everyone into camps, chop off some limbs, erase the notion of free will or anything but service to the moon.
Turns out the moon does not mind if you scoop out significant portions of the prefrontal lobe before conversion. The question is will you be complacent enough to realize your higher calling or are you going to be another meat log for the stumpy field?
Either way, the implants will a little itch bit at first. Hopefully this bit of storytelling has enlightened you. Now, please, let us experience the moon together now.
| 2022-08-07T14:35:00 | 2018-04-06T19:57:39 | 23,079 | 30 |
[WP] You are an Engineer who became a Wizard. Problem is, you discovered that some magic is practiced really inefficiently.
For example, no one thought to optimize fire magic by pressurizing the fire with wind magic.
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The elf maester Nailo had long since decided it was useless. The dwarf Hammerbraid had taken almost a decade to learn the most basic spells. He was brilliant, but every lesson was shaping wood without the druids' magic. The dwarf could not conjure but more than a few pounds of force and no more than about a wineglass amount of substance. Learning the elemental arts was almost certainly out of his reach. If the Hammerbraids clan hadn't done such a service a century ago to the elven consulate Nailo wasn't certain he'd have bothered.
"Righ', yer lookin for me to jus' MAKE fire, yeh? But I got me flint n axe fer tha', dunnai?" Hammerbraids eyebrows appeared to be fighting to become one; he was still focusing, even as he argued against the lesson.
Nailo almost rolled his eyes, it would be less taxing teaching a teapot to sing. "This is a necessary step for mastery over the elemental forces. How will you ever succeed the Magister's Trial if you are unable to create a spark to start a torch?"
"Agh turn it to slag a'ready --" His beard and eyebrows seemed to jump away from one another as focused frustration was replaced with realization. "Wai', I jus' gotta start it yeh?"
"Yes." Nailo wanted to look over his shoulder at the water clock tower. He needn't bother, the clock was added for those elves without the interest in magic as he. He knew there was only 10 minutes left of this lesson. His sunset spell was slowly losing power, telling him exactly how much sunlight was left.
"Tha's easy then -" with a blink and a step back a fist-sized glow dropped onto the torch, which blazed, smoked, and sputtered with an intensity rarely seen outside of an elemental plane.
The temperature was nigh unbearable at his distance, Nailo reflexively stepped sideways through the aether leaving 20 feet away as his eyebrows singed. It still hurt at this distance so he took another step back. "How did you conjure hellfire?!"
Hammerbraids face widened, his eyes nearly closed to the smile as he let out a large guffaw. "One o' 'em maester secrets righ'?" Molten iron would be better next time just to start a fire, he decided. An adamantine forge was very rarely spoken about with nondwarves, after all.
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"Jerome! Now please don't tell me your working on that project... still. What the fuck you doing?" There he is, this old little bitch is at it again, teleporting his crinkly self, wherever he wants. Man I need a new mentor. I should have practiced my Dont-Come-The-Fuck-In spells a little more
&#x200B;
"Listen Gerald, or whatever your old lil nerdy ass name is, this "Project" is important. Im tryna, change the game, Elon-Musk up something to put me on the map. How am i supposed to make any progress if you keep busting in here, going on about the philosophy of power and how to pronounce latin spells from some book as dusty as you?"
&#x200B;
I scoot from my chair, picking up the latest vial of the new stuff.
&#x200B;
"This so-called-project, is a shitshow litrally. How did you get chosen as an elective for the Government funded Citizen to Wizard scheme?"
&#x200B;
"Listen Simon, the project is simple. You shit in a bucket, my device processes that into a powder, we feed that to plants and we fed for eternity." It's really not that simple. The machine alone has taken months to build. See the main problem is that every Wizards energy is unique ID. Like a signature, or your facebook password. Only you can use your Unique ID, and only you can apply that to spells and potions and apparently poop-to-powder machines. Who knew. Once i tried to spoof the unique ID of big boy bill. The fucking machine exploded.
&#x200B;
I took the vile of the powder, added a little water and added it to my new test subject. By test subject i mean Miss Watson's snake plant that looked a little droopy. I swiped it during applied spells today. The first problem was probably the smoke. The soil started smoking, that 12-year-old-i-bought-a-vape-of-ebay kinda smoke. Ignoring the poop smelling smoke. Nothing really happened.
&#x200B;
"Jerome you really are a weak ass engineer and Wizard."
&#x200B;
Damn, i really thought that one would work.
| 2019-04-26T06:04:13 | 2019-04-26T02:17:58 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You and your classmates are to summon a familiar. What familiar you get is indicative of your raw power. You get a human as your familiar. Your classmates laugh at you, but the teachers...
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"Heyo summoner, nice to meet you. Armageddon mercenary, Codename: Harbinger, at your service! Tell me what's the task and we can get a formal contract written up right quick." The strangely armed and armored *man* jovially greeted her.
Unfortunately for Shelia, third year student of the Royal college of Magic and Nobility, she could not respond with promptness to the stranger, which by all appearances had been summoned by her.
During a familiar calling ritual.
That the entire class was taking part in.
By calling animals and other creatures.
That would be their lifelong companions.
It didn't take long for the whispers of surprise to shift into gossip. Shelia could only wonder how this *mishap* would affect her reputation. She could already imagine the mutterings of those sycophants in the courts. *Young promising mage botches her familiar ritual because she was too busy day dreaming of a knight in shining armor*.
To be fair, who wouldn't dream of having a stalwart protector accompanying them across multitudes of adventures? She was aware that even a good number of her classmates of both predilections were fans of such fantasies. But the man in front of her inspired no such feelings.
He was covered in dark clothes with dull matte black "armor" that covered most of his figure. His face was hidden beneath equally dark cloth, and atop his head was a helmet that wasn't made of metal, as far as she could tell. What was most unnerving, was the brilliant orange and purple visor that obscured his eyes.
Despite the friendly and candid tone 'Harbinger' spoke with, she felt no warmth in his voice. His head had turned slightly each way, most likely to take in the surroundings. He stood like one of the veteran soldiers she had the honor of speaking with, ready to act and strike in a heartbeat.
Shelia quickly looked to the current professor, the esteemed Duvernay Sankta, a master of evocation and handling of magical threats. What she saw instead however, was a man scared out of his wits. His face was pale, and his hands trembled as they gripped a hardwood staff as if it were a lifeline.
Professor Sankta had been kind to her, no, been kind to all of them with his near limitless patience. Shelia decided then that the brunt of whatever consequences this brought would be handled by herself and her supporters.
Shelia mustered what confidence she could and stepped forward. "I am Shelia Wolvd Magritte, and I must ask of your reason to appear here mercenary!"
Professor Sankta let out a distressed noise, as one of his star pupils confronted a herald of the end-times.
(Just a quick thing that I could come up with on the spot. Might do a part 2 tomorrow)
Edit: Part 2 up.
Edit2: All 4 parts are up
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Everyone sat with their legs crossed upon the floor. The inlay for the summoning circle at each student used so often it had been etched to the old wood boards. Each student carefully applying the chalk for the ritual as the class instructor paced down the aisle watching like a hawk.
Soon the class leads had the silver white light of summoning in their circles. The other students pausing to watch as the light grew. Zarah accidentally dropped the powder in her hand as she watched the light shrink down revealing a feline in each of those circles. A little collar forming on the neck of each animal before it moved to rub against their new mage.
Ms Cellog cleared her throat and the others all went back to the spell. Poor Timothy at the opposite end of the room had such a small sphere. Then a small mouse appeared before him. Another an owl then a dog and a bat.
But Zarah was concerned. At first nothing was happening. Everyone else in class had finished and no glow in her circle. The others jeered at her lack of success. Even Timothy who struggled with the basics was in on it. Zarah began to cry when the mistress clapped her hands. Ms Cellog announcing the test complete when she stopped mid sentence.
A tear had flowed down Zarah's cheek and landed on the circle. . And a golden light burst in the center of the circle. Expanding like the others. But it didn't stop. It wouldn't stop no matter what Zarah tried.
Then the form came. At first some thought she had summoned a fawn or lion. Till the light, instead of settling to a collar or band, popped like a bubble. Revealing a human girl about the students own age curled on the floor and waking.
Rising up she looked about in confusion. "When did I get to Hogwarts?" As one of the boys whistled the girl realized she was unclothed. "Hey! Who the heck are you pervs!?"
Zarah took off her shawl and draped it about the girl. "Ah sorry, sorry. I was trying to summon a familiar. Not, not." The light headedness was intense as Zarah tried to focus. Then the world went black.
Light on her eyes rousing her, Zarah looked about blearily. The headmaster by her bed. "I'm sorry sir. I don't know what happened. Am I to be expelled?"
"You the binding glyph was broken. The ah young lady you summoned is in the next room finding something to wear. . You should know this is a very rare occurrence. So rare this is only the third time in the two thousand years of written history. And each of those that came before became incredibly powerful. One a dread lord and the other a saint among the living. You have something to live up to eh?"
| 2022-05-06T15:06:48 | 2022-05-06T14:28:55 | 75 | 56 |
[WP] "Apologies, human. Unfortunately, you were accidentally killed by a glactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything... changed."
|
*Am I... Awake?* were my first thoughts. *I think I am, but...* I couldn't feel any part of my body at all. Or see, or hear. Understandably, panic began to creep in. *Is this sleep paralysis? No, I'd be able to see at least.* Some memory was hovering around the back of my mind. What was it? I tried to grab at the slippery entity. *Ah, right, I was shot by an alien. What a weird dream.*
A foreign voice echoed through my head. **Hello? Sorry it took so long to get this set up. I see you're fairly stable though, that's good. My name is Bob, and that dream was very real. We apologize.**
Well I was sufficiently weirded out. That voice clearly had nothing to do with my own internal voice. I remembered learning that schizophrenia starts to show symptoms around my age. *Wait, Bob? That's not an alien name.* Yep, this is definitely a very weird lucid dream.
**The machine interfacing with your brain is essentially a translator, my name is relatively generic in my culture, and no longer common. As for your dream concerns...**
The words "This is not a dream" appeared as text in my view. *Well, can't read in dreams I guess.*
**Ok, good.** The voice sounded hurried, as if I were a very busy CEO and it was giving me an elevator pitch. **Before you consider the implications of aliens existing in hiding on Earth and your whole... situation, I had a question. In exchange for your silence on our existence, we're constructing you a new body and wanted to know if you wanted anything changed.**
*You really want me quiet, huh. I guess that makes sense, I mean I had no idea you existed before today... yesterday?...*
**Focus!** The voice sounded worried.
*I'm still here, don't worry.* I thought for a while. What would I want changed? I am who I am in part because of what I am. But getting some minor medical problems worked out would be nice. Or would that be included? I'd like to have a better tolerance for sugar. I missed having Lucky Charms. But I was still missing something... Think.. Think! ... I had it.
*I want to be a spaceship.*
**You... want to be a spaceship.**
*Yes, please!*
**Well, we really did lose the human. I was hoping they'd be able to handle the sensory deprivation, but... oh well. Shutting down.**
*No! Wait! I'm still sane. A while ago, I read a story about a person who becomes a computer. He travels star systems as a von Neumann probe, discovering alien life and defending planets. I want to do that. I always thought I'd never get the chance to be a wildlife exobiologist, but here it is.*
**You voluntarily want to be run as a simulation in a computer? You want to give up your chance for a new, real, biological body? That's very rare in our experience.**
*If it means I can achieve my dreams, yes. Plus computers are effectively immortal, right? Sounds like a good plus.*
**You've lasted this long in what's effectively a simulation, and this WOULD be much less work for us. I suppose we can do this for you. You're sure?**
*Yes.*
**Alright, shutting down. See you on the other side.**
I fell unconscious.
|
The first thing I heard was a whirring sound.
Everything went from black to bright white in an instant, hurting my eyes. The brick wall across the room stared unblinkingly at me and I closed my eyes to try and ease the pain.
I tried to stand up and was slightly horrified to discover that I couldn’t move, and upon further looking around I discovered that I was floating in an odd, clear goo in the middle of a testing room.
A creature that looked vaguely like a man was standing in the doorway, looking down at a clipboard. He seemed to be checking off some sort of list.
Though I couldn’t see very well, I could make out his purple skin, slightly-pointier- than-average ears, and a disproportionate build that confirmed his non-human nature.
Suddenly, he turned his attention to me. ̈ ̈Apologies, human. Unfortunately you were accidentally killed by a galactic federation officer during an altercation on your planet. Currently we are constructing you a replacement body, and in return for your ensured silence on our existence, I wanted to ask if you wanted anything...changed.¨
God, I could list ten thousand things I wanted to change about myself. But I needed to know more.
The man looked at me with concern(?) in his eyes. “Speak with your mind, the Saturians have much more advanced technology than that of Galactic Federation 3. I know you must have many questions.”
Damn right I have many questions!
Why am I here? I asked.
He shook his head. “That is not of importance right now, human. Just tell me what you would like to change.
Ok… I wasn’t happy with that answer, but I knew pushing wouldn’t get me anywhere. However, didn’t entirely know how to phrase my question. Can I change surface-level things or just, like...bones?
“I’m not entirely sure what you mean, human. You may change your hair or your facial structure, or anything in between. You may not change your personality. That is implanted in the state you are in as of right now.”
I didn’t want to leave any loopholes. The only thing I want out of this new body would be for it to be an exact replica of my own before I was killed, at a time when I was moderately healthy.
The man nodded and attempted to bow awkwardly. “Thank you for your specifics. Our construction team will work their hardest to meet your criteria.”
I was left in my puddle of levitating sludge.
____________________
Weeks later.
I’ve become accustomed to life on the Saturn airship. I’ve learned a bit of their planet’s history as well -- for example, they have been an “outcast” federation for many years due to their complicated history with the galactic government, and thus they have retained their original, pre-galactian name as a form of rebellion.
They also find my non-purple skin and rounded ears very intriguing.
They promised me multiple times that they will attempt to contact other planets to see if anybody else from GF3 is still alive and knows me, but they keep saying that the connection lines have been cut due to combat.
I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but they’re helping train me for a more peaceful life than the war. Hopefully we’ll be able to touch the ground soon -- the captains told me the ship’s about a month away from a Saturian base.
| 2019-10-28T12:07:57 | 2019-10-28T11:46:38 | 35 | 16 |
[WP] The lottery is a system secretly put in place so the government can find and capture time travellers and psychics before they cause major problems. As someone who won the jackpot by pure chance, you’re struggling to prove that you are neither of those to the suits that showed up at your door.
|
"We usually get the younger ones going for this kind of thing but I guess the older fellas aren't all impervious to the draw of the lotto," said Bruce as he *very* gently put me into the detention room.
"Now what is that supposed to mean? Just because I'm 48 doesn't mea-" He shut the door in my face and I heard his footsteps receding back down the hall.
Some undeterminable amount of time later, this agent and what looked like his partner came back in. "So why this lotto huh?" Bruce apparently likes to get down to business. "Why not choose any of the higher tiers with more money?" He asked as he and his partner started assembling something inside a briefcase. "Because they cost more with less chance of success?" His partner smirked, "Chance had nothing to do with this and we both know it Gramps. Do you really think we're gonna buy this whole 'I'm innocent' charade?" I tilted my head to look at him, "Well I know you will because it's all I'm selling. What is this anyway? FBI over what? An *aging*," I glared at Bruce's partner, "man who wins $100,000 in the lottery? What do you have me in here for? You think I went and rigged the lottery? You think I found the numbers somewhere? If you're so concerned about the numbers, maybe you two should be guarding them instead of harassing an *aging*," I shot Bruce's partner another look, "man who just won by sheer luck. Cheating defeats the whole purpose of the lottery anyway. It's no fun if you know you're gonna win. Sure you get the money woohoo. But nothing, and I say again, nothing compares to that dizzying full body exhilaration of learning you won something against the odds. That's what I'm here for. I live for the thrill; although, not the kind you two seem to be preparing for me in that briefcase."
Bruce and his partner had paused on putting together whatever it is they had in there and were looking at each other. "Well, Pete, I guess we got the wrong guy in for *cheating* then." He gave Pete a look. "We better tell intelligence to step it up and get it right next time. We're sorry for the confusion, sir. Just understand we take this type of offense very seriously, you know, cuz it takes away from the whole *thrill* and the integrity of the whole....experience." Bruce was stumbling over his words worse than the script said he would. "I suppose after we fill out some paper work, you'll be free to go... and uh...claim your winnings." Pete had already packed up the briefcase and was waiting at the door like an anxious dog. I didn't have to review the notes embedded in my mind to know he was going through every scenario wondering how they got it wrong. Of course all the details would match up. Of course I'd have the right bio signature. But they'd never find a way to get me for it. A *younger* me had already made sure of it. Plus, the thrill is what I was always chasing in the first place. That's why I play the games.
|
I couldn’t believe it when I went to check my ticket
Winner , jackpot, 70 million.
My life was set! No more work , no more stressing over bills, nothing! All this from a ticket I just found on the ground the day of the draw!
I made the phone call to the lottery centre , I had to come in for my photo op with the giant cheque , I didn’t want any publicity though , the date was one week from Thursday , I can manage 10 more days of being just middle class I guess.
The following few days I kept noticing the same people , it could not of gone public I won yet… nothing was announced…. But I could swear these people were the same… I spent the time to pick out the house I really wanted , and a few other things for once the money cleared
When the time finally came it was not just a photo op, it was like an interrogation but I don’t remember any of it but it’s like dejavu I swear it happened. But no one believed me , they said I went inside , did my photo and walked out , but I have these memories that feel like weeks, yelling , questioning…. It didn’t make sense to me but I shrugged it off as nightmares maybe since I was fine and everyone says I was only inside for maybe 30 min.
I bought the bigger house I wanted , and moved in quickly , I had mostly just gotten settled when a package arrived addressed to me…. From me? Inside was a usb drive
I plugged it in , it had photos and videos , I opened the video called “First”, the man in the video looked like me but much older
“ hey James , it’s James , yes I really am you but I’m also not you as you are now, you see the whole lottery thing it’s just a front for an organization these days, they call themselves the time keepers, they have been trying to hunt me down because in 50 years time when backwards time travel is created they were sent back to stop paradox’s from forming”
“ but you see , I found a loophole , you are not a time traveller yet so they can’t do anything to you , and me , well , I don’t exist anymore after this moment, unless you also have something to protect you from self annihilating in a paradox then the universe will try to correct your existence, these agents will have it but I destroyed mine on purpose, I lived my life being poor and alone but by doing this then maybe you can live a better one , now you will be safe but oh boy they will try to get that info out of you in any way they can , for now check the videos attached as they will be recorded from the lottery centre , im not sure what will be on them as by the time I give you this ticket , I will have changed reality and vanished , I wish you the best , well me the best , anyways , after you watch the videos you must destroy them thoroughly, the information in your head im showing you won’t make the paradox but if anyone sees these it can create a new paradox so use that against them”
Part 2 below
| 2022-10-09T16:08:40 | 2022-10-09T15:20:04 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] Humans are one of the most feared species in the galaxy. Not due to superior strength,speed,skill or strategy. In fact, it's because in comparison to the other species, humans are just batshit crazy enough to try any half-assed plan they come up with.
|
"And who can tell me about the events of the first cycle?"
Professor Gooblevork watched his Galactic History class intently through triplicate eyestalks. None seemed particularly interested in his lecture.
"How about you, Shrdmrn?" He pointed at a particularly bored student in the first row. Or maybe he was just gassy? Gooblevork had a hard time reading the emotions of the furrier species in his class.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry, professor. I don't know." He responded. He seemed distracted - ah, that's it, that's the emotion!
"What's on your mind, Shrdmrn?"
The wolf-boy touched a switch on his desk, pulling up a small holographic map. The professor pulled up a larger display for the whole class to see.
"I was just wondering about the Galactic Alliance. Thousands of sentient alien species, all throughout the galaxy, came together from all of these systems, right?"
The hologram glowed, indicating several systems, and a few uncharted territories in black.
"That's correct. What is your question?"
"I was just wondering about this area here."
He pointed out a small black dot in the middle of the glowing cloud. Gooblevork sighed and sat down.
"That, dear boy, is the realm of the human."
A collective gasp went through the crowd. Shrdmrn's brows furrowed.
"Is this a joke, professor?"
The professor slithered over to the wolf-boy.
"They're real, boy. A monstrous species, completely devoid of logic and reason."
The wolf-boy looked at him intently.
"How, sir?"
The professor slithered to the center of the room.
"How many of you are familiar with the chemical compound C2H6O?"
One of the students in the back spoke up.
"It's a deadly poison, sir!"
"It should be. Its use is forbidden among the civilized worlds of the Alliance, as it's an unconscionably painful death. But the human willingly imbibes it."
The crowd gasped. But the professor wasn't done.
"Regularly."
The students gasped again and stared in shock.
"Their planet, Earth, is harsh and unforgiving. It's located close to their star, which bombards their planet in radiation daily. But the humans don't care. At the hottest times in the year, the humans willingly expose their bodies to that radiation as some sort of mating ritual."
The professor admitted to himself that he was having a bit more fun than he should.
"And does anyone know where they get their energy from?"
"From their star?"
The professor laughed.
"No! They pump a fluid from the earth - a fluid born of the bodies of ancient life. They fight each other over this fluid, and when they have enough, they light the fluid on fire."
The professor paused to allow this to sink in.
"The burning fluid releases poisons - poisons the Alliance would never deem safe. But humans? Humans don't care. They use the expansion of he poisons to create power."
One student raised his hand.
"Are they all going to die on their planet, professor?"
The professor smiled.
"Maybe. But it's possible that they won't. They've built a way to leave their planet."
The crowd gasped again, even louder than before.
"How could such a ludicrous race build a gravity drive on their own?"
The professor said, "I never said it was a gravity drive. They developed a way to sit on top of a column of explosives. They detonate the explosives, and the explosion sends them into space."
One of the students stands up.
"That's a joke, right?"
The professor smiles.
"They've left their planet before."
|
"They launched *WHAT* into orbit?!" For a moment, General Vizzan thought the page had lost his mind. They had the humans contained. All orbital defense platforms, and space viable transport had been crippled. Nothing was getting away without surrendering.
The page shifted akwardly on his legs. His wings bristled. "A water tower, sir." He handed him the pad. "They strapped several solid boosters to it to get it into orbit. It was moving too fast for us to track it before it collided with the Besar."
His brother, Delamis, was at the helm of the Besar. He made a prayer to the brood mother that he had survived. "Well what was the damage? Any casualties?"
"We are not sure, sir." he said, "We lost all contact with them after the impact."
The ship rocked beneath them. One large impact followed by a groan and a boom. That was not just a water tower. He had seen what their guns could do to a ship enough times to recognize the sound. "What was that?" he demanded of one of the techs in the bay below them.
A radar tech looked at him wide eyed. "The Besar has fired upon us, as well as fourteen other ships in the fleet. Damage to critical systems was minimal, but there have been reports of casualties in multiple sectors."
"Establish a contact. Now!" The view screen flashed to life, and Vizzan felt his heart stop beating.
Delamis was on the floor with his own sword, the blade he had commissioned for him, pressed to his throat. The leader of the planetary defense corps held it. "Vizzy!" he said mockingly, "Just the bug I was hoping to talk to." How in the brood mother's name did he manage to get aboard? *No fucking way*
"Johnson! What the hell did you do?"
A broad smile parted his tan skin to reveal white teeth. "Just thought I would take a closer look at the pride of your fleet. And I must say, she is *beautiful*. Could use a few improvements, particularly to the security countermeasures on the port side airlocks though. So many threats out there that could exploit it."
"Release him! Immediately!" He was not going to let them kill his brother.
The blade moved closer to Delamis' throat. He cringed away from it. "Order all forces to leave the system." All the humor had gone from his eyes.
Vizzan's attention turn to his own soldiers. "Order all ships to target the Besar. Cripple all key systems, but leave the bridge untouched."
"How many men do you have under your command here, Vizzy? Two maybe three million?" He signaled to someone off frame. "Say you manage to knock us out, without killing your little buddy here, in maybe 45 seconds. How much damage do you think I can do in that time." This man was insane. "I must say the payload on some of these guns... impressive. So how many are you willing to lose for this victory?"
A growl tore out of Vizzan's throat. The kind that meant he knew he had been beaten. "Order all ships to stand down."
Delamis squirmed beneath Johnson's boot. "Brother, don't!" he screamed. "My life is not worth it." But he was not just doing this for his brother, he was doing it for the tens of thousands that would die should they start firing.
"This is not over, Commander." Vizzan said. He would kill him slowly, intimately.
Johnson grinned. "I'm counting on it, now order your ships to jump."
| 2017-03-05T22:47:46 | 2017-03-05T20:37:30 | 1,151 | 636 |
[WP] write a short horror story that seems completely normal and non scary until the very last sentence at which point it becomes absolutely terrifying.
|
It was a Saturday. After a long week at work, Todd decided to sleep in. He got up half past ten, took a quick shower, then headed to the nearest Denny's for breakfast.
Todd ordered his usual... a Grand Slam. With a smile, the waiter left after taking his order. Looking out the window, Todd regretted getting up so late. It was a beautiful day... sunny and not a cloud in sight. Suddenly, he felt a slight tap on his shoulder. It was his waiter. They ran out of bacon.
|
Bill and his wife Laura entered the furniture store. They were looking for a closet for their baby's room. After so many months of trying to have a baby again, years after the unfortunate miscarriage, it looked like things were finally working out for them.
An old mahogany closet caught their eye. They inspected it closer, taking in the smell of old wood, and feeling its smoothness. Bill's hand reached for the door and he opened it and then a skeleton popped out.
| 2017-05-31T07:58:46 | 2017-05-31T07:24:53 | 272 | 28 |
[WP] Death is not some all powerful being. Rather, she's a socially awkward outcast. Somehow, you've managed to befriend her and things have started getting weird...
|
"Hey Death?" I sat on the edge of the crumbled bridge next to her, looking off at the sunset.
"Hm?" She quickly turned off her phone's screen and stared at me as I turned to look at her. She was just slow enough or me to see that she'd been texting someone. Probably one of the fates, they were like family to her.
"You've been acting a little off lately. Less like your usual morbid, somber self. What's up?" I asked, looking back at the sunset.
She shifted a little bit, scooting a bit closer to the edge. I always found it funny when she'd put herself closer to danger to feel more comfortable, but I'd been over laughing about it for years. "I guess I've been watching a lot of human movies. People tend to imitate what they're surrounded by."
I laughed a little. "Yeah, D. That's kind of the problem. The other day you left your Netflix signed in back at my apartment, and I saw the kind of movies you watch on your own."
Death blushed. That was a rare sight.
I continued, "I wanted to see the kind of movies you watch, see if any of them were adaptations and get you the book if I could find it. You know, with your Being Day coming in about a month."
She started to stand. "Tom, I-"
I gestured for her to sit back down. "I noticed one thing most the things you watch share. They're mostly romantic films about girls who woo their male best friend."
She lay back on the pavement, only her legs dangling over the edge of the bridge. Her black hood slipped a little off her head, and her pitch black hair bounced out the sides. "Yeah," she sighed, "well, you wouldn't bring it up unless you feel the same way or you never want to see my face again until you die. I know how people are."
I learned over and kissed Death on the cheek, then lay back on the pavement next to her.
"Tom, do you like being alive? We've talked about it before, but you never decided. Most people would steer clear of confronting their mortality daily. Which is better, changing the world or being happy forever?"
"I'm happy right here next to you. Are you alive or dead?"
"Alive, technically. My "Being Day" is the day I became immortal. I'm the only one who can change the world and find happiness in it."
"So... you really are a god."
She laughed, one of the most natural things I had ever heard. "We'll talk about making you immortal later. For now, I'll have you know I'm also a sex god."
It was my turn to blush now. "Metaphorically?"
"Wanna find out?"
I laughed, if only because the situation was so absurd. "Yeah."
She wasn't wrong.
|
I met her a while ago, I'm not sure when, but it was when I was a child. At first, I didn't know that J was a grim reaper, I just happened to see her often, just a glimpse of her, mostly in the street.
When my grandma died, I met J just around the corner of the street, she seemed surprised when I looked at her, but said nothing. I asked my father about her but he said that he didn't notice anyone, and I thought it was because he just lost his mother.
Soon, my other grandparents died and I met J every time, and every time nobody noticed her. Seeing people was never a good thing so I stopped talking about her. I met her again often, but it rarely was when someone of my family died.
One day, I saw her in a public park, waiting on a bench under a tree. For the first time, I approached her. She was a beautiful woman, with long blond hair in a ponytail, black eyes and wearing a black suit. She seemed happy to see me, and it seemed obvious to her, like she was waiting for this moment.
She told me that she was a grim reaper, that it was the first time in the 3 centuries she did this, someone could see her, that there was, in fact, a lot of reapers, and each had a district where they operated. To her, there was a reason why I could see her, but it was no time to discuss about it, because it was time for her to go.
I met J every 2 weeks after the park, she was awkward but I felt there was something between us, something strange. In the meantime, I thought that building a relationship between a human and a grim reaper was something hard, especially when you have been alone for the last 300 years. So I didn't press the subject.
Last week, J showed just in front of my house, like she really wanted to talk so I invited her in.
"Hey Nick, there's something I wanted to talk about for a while..."
"What is it? Is it about our meetings?"
"Yes, kind of. You know, it's not common for a human to see grim reapers, so I talked about you with my colleagues and hierarchy. I believe it's no luck if we met"
"What do you mean?" I asked, fearing what could come up next.
"I want to continue this relationship for the longest time ever. So I can tell you that you can become a grim reaper if you want to, that's probably why you can see me!" She seemed ecstatic telling that.
I stopped the conversation here, telling her that I needed to think about it. There was pros and cons but it was no light decision
| 2017-01-21T08:28:15 | 2017-01-21T05:20:22 | 58 | 33 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
|
"Gather 'round! Mail's here!"
The postman only visited once a month in the remote ger camp of Bayanzorn, a small island of life in the midst of the Sea of Death - known to outsiders as the Gobi Desert. Ghaz had waited anxiously for this day, having begun his 18th season only a few short weeks ago.
The postman reached into the dusty canvas duffle bag in the back of his jeep and withdrew a rubber-banded stack of dirt-stained letters.
"Khongjin!"
"Here!"
A manilla bubble-padded envelope was next.
"Urun!"
The mail call droned on, endlessly. Ghaz began to worry if the government had forgotten about him and his remote ger camp, the only life he'd known. Raising goats and horses the traditional Mongolian way. Never setting down roots. Moving from oasis to oasis in search of greener pastures for their herds.
And at last, the postman withdrew the infamous red-and-blue envelope every Mongolian man and woman waited for with baited breath on the occasion of their 18th birthday.
"Looks like we have a birthday boy, " the postman chortled, "Ghaz Uluk!"
Ghaz raised his hand with a gentle tremble and cautiously stepped forward to collect the third piece of mail he'd ever received.
"Don't look so worried, boy!" shouted one of the villagers. "It's not like you have to marry her before sundown!" A chuckle rippled through the crowd.
Ghaz stretched out his arm and took the finely painted parchment envelope into his hands, and very carefully began to open it. Out slid a hand-calligraphed letter with the words "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?"
"Read it!"
And Ghaz complied, puzzling his yet-to-be-found soulmate's letter out loud to the crowd. An awkward silence followed, as the nomads gazed at their navels and dug the heels of their leather boots into sand.
The awkward silence was broken by a hearty laugh from the postman.
"Kid, this jeep is heads back to Mandalgobi each month and I have room for one more. You'll discover what `Starbucks` is there. So your first decision as a man come-of-age is whether or not she's worth leaving this..." the postman paused for a minute to watch a mangy dog chase an ewe into the low shrub grass near the oasis "... Charming... Anyway. Think about it."
Hot days and cold nights followed. And on the next mail day, Ghaz arrived with a bag of his own. And with a solemn farewell to his family and tribesman, Ghaz set out on his quest to find Starbucks and his one true soulmate, unsure if he'd ever see his family or ger again.
|
The one moment of the day that made it all worth it was just hearing her voice in the morning. Always starting with those same 8 words. Stiff and corporate sounding, but he thought he detected a new hint of warmth behind them the last couple of weeks.
They'd had their share of jokes and small talk at the counter the last few months as well, and he had caught her staring at him a couple times as he worked on his laptop. Somehow, he'd still never had the courage to make a move to ask her out. Today is the day though, he can feel it.
The letter had come yesterday. Just those wonderful 8 words on a plain white sheet of paper in an unmarked envelope. No one knows where they come from, but without fail everyone will get one on their 18th birthday like it. Some think it takes the "magic" out of the process, but finding your true soul mate seems like a fair trade in his mind.
As he walks into the Starbucks, he is nervous but confident. There's no way it could be anyone else. Standing in line he sneaks a glance up at the counter and sees her. She has her hair down... The butterflies in his stomach do a flip... He loves it when she wears it like this. He's two people away now. He's futilely trying to remember the carefully calculated words he'd rehearsed for this. One person away. He's almost ready to burst.
The man in front of him approaches the counter. "Nobody freak out and nobody gets hurt!" He yells, suddenly brandishing a pistol. The man looks to the girl and demands the cash out of the register. She's shaking, starting to cry... "What the fuck did I just say about freaking out?!" the man yells, and cocks the pistol. "You just had to start crying.... I FUCKING HATE IT WHEN THEY CRY!"
He's standing behind the man, unbelieving of the scene unfolding before him. The man is crazy obviously... and he's no longer sure the cash alone is all the guy will be taking before he is satisfied. Only one thing to do. Saying a quick mental prayer, he throws himself at the man. A quick scramble, a loud bang, a sharp pain... and then police sirens in the background as the darkness engulfs him.
The sharp smell of antiseptic is the first thing that heralds his return to conciousness. Second is the soft whirring and beeping of the hospital equipment beside his bed. As the room swims into view he realizes someone is holding his hand. He looks... Butterflies. Her hair is down... He loves it when she wears it like that.
| 2014-12-17T23:46:50 | 2014-12-17T22:16:22 | 42 | 24 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table two times.
|
*She didn't... actually think that would throw me off, did she?*
One wry smile from her desk immediately reassured me that she was no fool. I reviewed every odd occurrence I'd noticed from her. There was the time I was brainstorming puns for the annual pun competition, and she couldn't stop snickering, even going so far as to laugh out loud when I thought up *latitude and laundry-dude.*
Upon the memory, a quick snort came from her desk again. Her sense of humor was honestly beyond salvation. The teacher shot a quick glance over and followed her line of sight back to me.
"Mr. Li, I hope you haven't been clowning around in my class. Please stop trying to entertain Ms. Belle over there, and instead pay closer attention to what you're here to learn: Calculus."
Well then. I scowled over in her direction and mentally chided her for getting us in trouble. She stuck her tongue out at me.
*What is she, like, five?*
Which she responded to with a prompt middle finger.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
Blaring sirens announced that our lunch period had arrived, and I gathered my bag to head down to the cafeteria. As I passed her in the hall, she smirked knowingly and rushed past me. Confused and a little alarmed, I went down to the cafeteria.
I spotted her almost immediately, sitting near the back with an entire row of empty seats. Politely declining my friends, I made my way over.
"In my defense," She began. "The laundry-dude joke *in itself* isn't what I find funny. It's the mental image of the heroic Laundry-Dude! that accompanies you whenever you think it up. Savior of roommates! Defender of Dorms! Experienced with Washing Machines! I mean, really, how could I not laugh at that?"
I flushed. Laundry-Dude! (trademarked, mine, don't steal) was just a little aside my brain liked to fill in when I thought of the joke. The fact that I thought of the joke so often was her fault anyway, so-
"*My* fault?" She asked, a little smug. "How so?"
Well, it was quite simple really. Ever since I heard her laugh at that joke in class, it always reminded me of her, and vice versa. So, whenever I was thinking about her (which was quite often), the joke would hop unprompted into my head- Oh no. Oh no no no no no-
"You think about me often, eh? And I wonder why that is..." Her face had taken on the look of a sadistic cat, thoroughly enjoying her catch. I felt my face heating up.
\~Part two in replies!\~
|
You have become conscious of your actions but you can't stop thinking about the connection. She is smilling and enjoying going over your expressions and thoughts. You are contemplating how is it possible. She is giggling over your thought process. You haven't been near to her anytime before. You have never talked to her or crossed path with her.
After thinking of approaching her, you gather your courage to go near her.And she nods, you feel a sudden wave of energy, a destructive aura, sudden head ache. Like somebody is pinching you from inside the skull. It goes away quickly. You have a feeling that this is bad. You are just a couple of steps ahead and she whispers, "now, I can speak in your mind, come closer. Come and touch me, and I will tell you the secret". You are not able to handle yourself. Before you know it, you are just a couple of steps away and your hands and legs aren't understanding you. It feels like they have their own thought process. You have lost the ability to control your body. Her grin grows wider, and this is the first time you notice she has blue eyes and beautiful cheeks. She is pretty as flower.
She stands, and takes your hand. You follow her lead. She says, " I have been waiting for myself to turn 18, do you know it's my birthday today". She makes you wish her Happy Birthday. You are now on the empty playground and under the tree, you feel better. You both lie down, cuddling into each other She asks for your permission to kiss. And you oblige.
You have never felt this level of happiness before. It feels bliss. It is like rain after the hot humid drought. It feels like you have been thirsty from birth and her lips are like the river. She asks "do you want to have happy feelings like this and be my slave for rest of your life or you want forget this happened and continue your life? I am not going to manipulate your thoughts and you will have to decide yourself"
This is first time you are not mesmerized and you can think properly. But in her arms, and staring into those blue eyes, you want to stay in that moment and not think anything. You have thousands questions coming in and She says "I can still feel your thoughts. You have to make a decision now, come with me as my slave, you will be always happy or continue rest of your life with no memory of this incident"
You decide to chose her, you have chosen her and she kisses you. It is like a sweet delicious immoral candy. You both starting to remove your clothes. Naked, she says "this is the final embrace and you when you let go, you will lose your consciousness. You will be part of me." And she embraces you.
She answer all your questions. You break apart and with a jolt you let go of her.
| 2021-09-07T01:07:05 | 2021-09-06T23:08:48 | 195 | 27 |
[WP] After WW3 and a century of rebuilding, the world has been at peace for 300 years. We've let go of our violent and aggressive tendencies and abolished war. You are the leader of an alien invasion that sees the Earth as an easy target; but soon you learn we can revert to our warlike past easily.
|
"They've taken Newtonport," Allen told me as I stepped into the ancient machine. Already the southern continental factories were busily upgrading a new batch up to current tech. We had gotten these old knightsuits from the old warehouses they had been stored in centuries ago.
"Shit eating fuckers," I said, actually having requested a good cursing term from my headtech. Hell, most types of aggresion had been banned after the war that almost killed us all. The ancestors who were left to rebuild and redesign society had left these knightsuits in storage in case something went wrong. The Kondraxxi Battle Fleet that had appeared in our skies and demanded our surrender was something that went wrong.
"We're going to war?" Lauralei asked me excitedly, at 30 I was the eldest in our newly formed squad, "That's forbidden."
"Only against other humans," I smiled, "Now let's see if these things still work. We've got to hold the planet for at least a day till the factories really ramp up production."
______________
Kondraxxi War Commander Somu stood looking over the smoking wreckage of the human's capital city. As was standard invasion protocol they had demanded a surrender then taken the largest city on the planet as a demonstration of power. Everyone in the city was slaughtered and this slaughter broadcast to the planet to demoralize.
"No resistance from any direction, Commander," his recon commander reported, "Satellites report... wait. I'm reporting an energy discharge on the southern defensive line."
"It's about time," the Commander smiled, "Slaughter them. Bunch of farming scum."
______________
Lauralei's recon knightsuit was lighter and more agile then the big bruisers most of her confederates were riding. She was smiling in delight as she rode the ancient tech forward. Her smile turned to a frown and then a scowl. The child's body she passed was burnt to a crisp.
"They killed children," Lauralei was crying as she said this over her radio, "They killed everyone, Mason, everyone."
"I see the corpses, child," I told her in reply, "Prime weapons, put your suits through their final checks. Remember these things are murderers. You're not killing people. No, these aren't people. These things from the sky are monsters. Look what they've done to innocents."
"Kill them all!" Lauralei screamed, and this shout came from a thousand lips over my radio. I shivered in anticipation.
____________
The Kondraxxi scouts stood around armored vehicles whose anti-g had been shut down to conserve energy. Some were playing games and very few were actually paying attention. What could this planet of farmers do?
"Get up!" Someone shouted, "Get your as..." The world around the Kondraxxi erupted in a see of plasma, missiles, death, and screams.
"What is..." someone shouted, reaching for a weapon and suddenly his head was gone. The Kondraxxi erupted into complete chaos as huge metal machines, shaped like the inhabitants of this world moved among them. They were bristling with weapons of death. The few shots the Kondraxxi got off were absorbed by the heavy armor plating of the mechs.
_____________
"Sir," the Scout Master looked alarmed, "There's now weapons discharge to the east, south-east, northwest... HELL! They're all around us!"
"What do you mean?" the Commander was standing up in his battle tank, "Slaughter them! Kill them! They're farmers!"
"We're trying," the Scout Master said, "They're closing within 2..." and then his head was gone.
The Commander looked on in shock.
_________
Lauralei smiled. Her recon suit had a plasma snipe with a range of almost 4 kilometers. She had taken the Kondraxxi insect-like head off from so far away.
"Stay focused, Laur," I told her, "Good shot by the way."
"No wonder the ancients went to war," she told me and I shivered again, "I've never felt so alive." I knew what she meant.
____________
"Answer me!" Commander Somu yelled into his comm, "Sector 3, report! Sector 8, what's going on?" There was silence on all frequencies.
He watched as the men around him, even those behind heavy armor, died one by one and stood in the middle of a now empty and eerie city. He was surrounded by strange machines. Strange, deadly looking machines.
"I surrender," he said in their dialect.
A large machine, human-shaped, approached and he was startled to see a human strapped in, piloting it through a series of neural wiring. He shivered at her smile.
"You came to our planet," a voice from a larger machine on the side told him, "You killed our people. Destroyed our city. Murdered our children. You are not worthy of a chance to surrender. Lauralei, he's yours."
"Thanks, Mason," she said and picked him up. He felt his arm ripped from his socket and screamed, "Now, you, let's show you what happens to bugs that kill children."
|
“The Birds” they called them.
Achr’gax are natural shapeshifters. The superlative merger of ferocity and intelligence. The ultimate predator. The pinnacle of evolution across star systems.
And we know.
We have conquered many.
'So many things we could have done differently,' I later told my superiors.
‘This is on *you,* general Ghrin.’
‘With all due respect, sir, you have never been more wrong.’
‘You didn’t ACT! When the time was ripe for planet-wide conflict, you ordered RETREAT!’
‘Act? Act…'
A few of our battalions on the ground did *act*. Acted like untrained children, on emotion and the instinct to prevail. There would not have been conflict. What little fighting ensued could be called so, as only to keep the spirits of our soldiers from drowning. It was a slaughter.
I lost dear friends, many of whom have mates and children stationed on the nearest moon.
‘Why did you send me down there, three months prior to zero hour?’
‘Because you *volunteered*, General. It is a bygone tradition.’
‘It is a precautionary *tactic.* I *lived* amongst the humans. I sacrificed my body integrity by breathing their air for three months, so that I can provide you with valuable intel. I volunteered because the council had not even brought up the idea.’
The Supreme Leader was silent, and so was the rest of the throne room, the General’s voice sharpened and echoing in the vast chamber. Still fury raged in the Leader's eyes, as he watched the General pace before him now.
‘So when I specifically told you that you must postpone the invasion, that we are not ready *yet,* two months in, what was your reply?’
Silence.
‘Nothing. And when the hour of my extraction was near, what do you do? You *blindly* send half of our force. Scattered, disorganised, and armed with over-confidence. And you expect me to lead them on a suicide mission.’
‘The humans do not possess the ability to organise themselves into an effective entity anymore!'
Ghrin sighed, and turned his back.
‘They had no idea we were coming, and they had no way to repel our forces!'
He was about to continue, when he heard two sets of heavy footsteps and the clatter of the bulky armour of the King’s militia closing in.
‘You have got to be joking, King Dret.’ Just as he turned to face him, his left hand — he was still in his human shape — got stunned with the localised neurotoxin the guards carried, and fell limp to his side.
‘W - wait!’ He raised his free hand in alarm. ‘Before I go, you might want to listen to this, as you realise that you may well have doomed your race, here today.’
He took a recording device, shaped like a diamond, and gleaming like a ruby and pressed something, before throwing it at his majesty’s feet.’
‘What is this?!’ The King’s words echoed as the chamber stilled once again, to watch this spectacle.
‘Your failure. The sounds of our forces’ brief victory in Moscow, and the humans’ response. Tell me, does this sound to you, like an uncoordinated response?’
…
I watched with disbelieving eyes, but not quite surprised, as the bulk of my very own brigade materialised on the main square at noon.
It was a bright day, warm even for my physiology. I was in a “cafe” drinking quite a bitter liquid I had gotten accustomed to during my recon mission. A calming variety of native “music” was playing softly on the giant speakers. The exact time of my extraction was closing in, and I wanted to have visuals at the designated spot at all times. In case something went wrong...
They were fully armed. Even more so they hadn’t bothered to shape-shift. All three pairs of claws, were armed with our most sophisticated weaponry.
The civilians screamed and ran, and they had surrounded the leadership’s headquarters.
Silence fell, and they celebrated. The music had stopped.
Then, the speakers sparked to life and a monotonous voice echoed.
‘ПРИВЕТСТВОВАТЬ, ГОСТЕЙ’ — ‘Welcome, guests’ — my earpiece translator dictated.
'НАСЛАЖДАЙТЕСЬ КОНЦЕРТОМ’ — ‘Enjoy the concert’.
Static in the speakers. Then —
‘ROGER THAT, SENDING IN THE BIRDS’
The speakers broadcasted static for a few seconds.
Thunderous noise filled the sky above in every direction.
Ear-splitting music blasted from the speakers.
And then the bombing started.
…
Far above the orbit, on the mightiest ship in the Achr’gaxian fleet, in the throne room and beside the mighty King’s feet, from Ghrin’s recording device — as he was being dragged away by the militia -- echoed AC/DC’s "War Machine” in an utter silence, to be broken only by the detonations sounding in the background.
--
Edit: formatting
| 2019-02-26T11:49:21 | 2019-02-26T09:52:04 | 54 | 40 |
[WP] The world is a simulation and you are the weakest man in existence, one day you pass the lowest threshold and your strength stat loops back to the highest possible value
Kind of like how Gandi is Civ can go passed the lowest agressivness in the game and loops back to the most aggression.
|
I was always the weakest kid in school. Obviously I was made fun of for this. The school bullies targeted me constantly despite my condition.
**I had muscular dystrophy.**
Kids didn't seem to care about this though. Or at least they didn't fully understand the constant day to day struggle. Getting out of bed and lifting textbooks were difficult tasks. Driving a car, walking, playing sports, and basically having a life were impossible tasks. No one really understood this. But the bullies weren't the ones that got to me. It was the people that tried to be nice that would look at me and talk to me as if i was different from them. I mean I was, but in my mind I wasn't and that's what hit deep.
Despite this, I made it through high school with a 4.3 GPA and a 33 on my ACT, leading to where I am now.
**College**
I ended up at the University of Alabama because of my passion for their football team. I was never able to play football or any sports for that manner which is probably why I loved watching them. I wanted to be a part of something that I couldn't be. This led to most hours spent studying in my room because I wasn't able to party like everyone else. Eventually, my disease worsened and the hard tasks got harder... up until yesterday.
Yesterday began like any other Monday. Struggling to get out of bed and put on clothes. The only difference being that as I reached for my motorized wheelchair, everything felt different. My legs not longer shook from the pain of standing, my arms moved ten times faster than they ever have, and I felt strength course through my body in a way I've never felt my entire life. I leaned over and grabbed my wheelchair accidentally crushing the arm rest into a tangled mess.
**The next part felt like slow motion.**
The wheelchair gave out as leaned in, causing me to tumble into it, flattening the machinery like a piece of gum between molars. Instinct caused me to reach out for the floor, and I watched as my hand punched a hole through the dorm floor with no resistance, leaving me with my face on the ground and my hand reaching into another guy's dorm from his ceiling. I sat still for a second wondering if I took the wrong medicine and was hallucinating. The voice below saying "what...the...hell..." broke me from my trance. I prepared myself for pulling my arm out of the floor and went for it. It slid out with ease, breaking everything that collapsed in on my arm. The unexpected ease of the task caused me to fling myself into the air and into my dorm's ceiling, destroying it with the force of a mini atom bomb.
**And that's when my memory got a little foggy.**
I woke up in the hospital next to a table of bent needles and a bunch of perplexed doctors and nurses. I asked them what happened and they told me I was found underneath thousands of pounds of rubble after multiple floors collapsed at my dorm. They seemed confused when they told me, as if they couldn't believe I had survived. Once it hit me that I probably caused the death of and injuries of other students living near me, I rolled over and threw up. The vomit came out like water out of a pressure washer, exploding on the floor and coating the doctors and nurses. I freaked out and tried to push one of the nurses out of the way as the stream came out of me. I felt her fly as my palm landed on her. She flew into the others, knocking them all down like a bowling ball to pins. *what is happening to me?!?!* I thought. I launched myself up and onto the floor, still not used to the new speed and strength. As my feet hit the ground I sank through the floor, leaving a path of destruction as I fell. I landed on the floor below, causing debris, doctors, and nurses to come with me. Buried underneath debris, one thought arose: "I **DEFINITELY** took the wrong medication this morning."
**The end! This is my first real response from a writing prompt so all constructive criticism is welcomed!!**
|
I have always been the weakest kid in the world. I could barely lift a fork with meat in it and for this reason everyone called me Sickly. I remember my first day of school, "show them your charm sweety, be brave" My mom used to tell me this while she was hugging me goodbye before I took the school bus. "Why don't you have a backpack?" All the kids questioned me. I couldn't just say that my back wasn't strong enough to carry it, not in my first day so I just dodged the question. It didn't last long and quickly Sickly was born.
In my teenage years I tried almost everything with zero success, from working out constantly to alternative therapies, I even considered taking steroids but it wasn't worth it. It was frustating to say the least, I couldn't give a proper handshake nor hug a girl. My life was going downhill, "show them your charm sweety" My mother kept saying that to me everyday. If she only knew how hard I try to make friends without success and how depressed I am her heart would shatter.
Everything changed in my last highschool year. I will be honest, I was ready to take my own life at any given moment, everyone hated me and made me feel like a worthless piece of trash, there's only so much a kid can take. The bell rang, my professor helped me get up from my chair and in the hall there was a bully waiting for me.
"Sickly, it's time" He said and violently threw me against the lockers.
"Stop it please" I begged. I couldn't even stand up.
He looked me straight into my eyes and without saying a word he hit me with a tremendous punch. Unexpectedly, I didn't pass out, instead I felt a rush of electricity dancing inside my body, my muscles grew bigger out of the blue and I felt ridiculously strong. I stood up, grabbed his surprised face and with a single swing of my finger he entered in a coma. Guilt and curiosity overwhelmed me so I escaped to a mountain so I could get used to my strength without hurting anybody else.
When I arrived to the mountain I decided to try and do a small jump to see how far I could get, as soon as my feet left the ground I understood how strong I had became, a little jump and I suddenly I was at the top of the mountain. "Let's jump as high as I can" I thought and four hours later I was still going up travelling the universe incredibly fast without a sign of me stopping anytime soon, gravity nor void seemed to slow me down. It got boring pretty quickly.
After two months, I reached the edge of the universe, to my surprise I didn't stop there, instead I broke through it and landed into something that looked like a humongous conference room full of gigantic white beings pulling strings that came out of a mostly dark sphere. They completely freaked out when they saw me, they looked to each other confused until one of them started talking to me.
"Tom "Sickly" Jerzo, unbelievable. You have reached the Creation Room, welcome"
"Hello? How do you know my name?" I asked terrified, despite that I had quickly realized they created my universe.
"Well, I was in charge of your whole enviroment, this means I created you, your mother, the whole Earth. So I could say I know you pretty well"
"Thanks for the horrible life I guess then"
"Even superior beings like us make mistakes, you should have been a regular human being with regular strength but I made a mistake leaving you extremely weak, so weal that you went below the minimum strength threshold causing a bug in our system that gave you insane strength. That's why you are here. Quite unbelievable to be honest"
"What now? Do you fix me, erase my memory and send me back?"
"We could do that or instead I could let you design your own world as a way to fix my mistake"
My eyes lighted up.
"I accept"
| 2017-05-23T22:15:36 | 2017-05-23T21:06:23 | 206 | 82 |
[WP] When you arrived in the future, the locals put you in a "historical village" in an attempt to reduce culture shock. Unfortunately, their ideas about your past life are hilariously inaccurate.
|
All of these..... all of these signs are WRONG!!
‘Most “Doug’s” were gay’?? THAT can’t be true...
‘Every dog was a boy and every Cat was a girl’??? What is this, preschool? Who’d these guys ask about this, my nephew Tommy???
‘President Obama was most likely a lie’??? What does that even mean?!? He was real! He was a real guy!
Man, ever since that dumb Tesla went too fast on Hwy 88 and I appeared here in 2047 I’ve been shocked. Chocolate is everywhere, everybody is super into dinosaurs, and the normal clothes everyone wears are Avengers costumes! This is bonkers.
This village is crazy. They claim that they made it just for me, but like, this isn’t even remotely cool. Did they completely forget actual history?!? It was only 27 years ago!
Ugh, the girl who checks on me just asked if I’d like to meet the president. He’s outside waiting. I mean, sure, but what kind of guy is this gonna be? An idiot?
Wait a second..... what did she just say his name was, ‘president King Space T-Rex’??! Lol for sure, I’m coming to meet this guy.
Omg.......
Tommy....?
“Uncle Greg!!!!!”
“Oh sweet jesus”. This can’t be happening
“Hahaha I’m not Jesus, you can call me King Space T-Rex”
|
Poem
Flying cars, ray guns, and massive wealth.
And my desire to go there was the promise of good health.
My mom's cancer was back for sure,
In the future I know we've got a cure.
So I made a machine to travel through time,
It worked on the first try and I arrived in the future to a friendly chime.
Apparently people make it so frequently that there is a standard protocol,
Everyone also ends up in San Francisco, weird feature of the wormhole.
Anyway I'm here,
But no one will talk to me out of fear.
They don't want to let us actually into the future, and we can never go back.
They don't care about my mom's cancer or the treatment she lacks.
Instead I now live in San Francisco in the New Jersey district.
I'm surrounded by gyms and clubs, it's Jersey shore realistic.
I'm thinking about moving to the New York area,
The apartments are huge and inexpensive,
Who ever built the area watched Friends for days, it's comprehensive.
But more then that it's filled with labs and tools, straight out of Ghostbusters Spiderman.
I know I'll find the gear to make my way home if i can.
Mom never had to start smoking all those years ago,
I can save her that way, take out the real foe.
| 2019-04-23T12:40:51 | 2019-04-23T10:35:49 | 26 | 19 |
[wp] When a beloved dog passes in the hereafter, they are given a choice. They can cross the Rainbow Bridge and await for their owners, or join the Sleepless Watch and defend the world from evil spirits.
|
It was a choice all good dogs have to make.
Go across the great bridge, where you could wait for your person. There was light there, ponds and streams to play in, more balls and cookies than one had ever seen.
Or into the tunnel. The tunnel was dark, full of shadows and monsters.
If you went into the tunnel you would never see your person again, but you would protect the other persons. Your job in the tunnel was to keep the shadows away. Like a good dog should.
I made my choice. I wagged my tail as I trotted into the tunnel. I might not ever see my person again, but I was a good dog. I would keep the monsters away.
"Mommy look at the puppy! Can we keep him? I know he'll be a good dog!"
|
"I was given the choice many moments ago, and like every dog before me, and every dog after, I chose to protect.
What a cruel fate; we get to protect our People, we get to see our People. But they never get to see us.
They were told when they move onto the Rainbow Bridge, they will get to see us again. It isn't a lie, not really. But they never do get to see us again, since we have always chosen to protect. We have always walked through The Mist instead of over the Rainbow Bridge. All of us, from the Chihuahua's to the Bernese.
But today I've had enough; I wasn't able to protect my People anymore, and I'll be damned if I don't get back through the Mist and greet them at the Bridge."
| 2018-05-11T19:43:31 | 2018-05-11T16:16:48 | 45 | 10 |
[WP] You we’re born with the ability to control fire, but instead of becoming a superhero, you set your sights on a much more attainable goal: You became the worlds greatest firefighter.
|
It had been a rough few months since revealing her powers. There was a lot of friction at first, she got called irresponsible for not using her powers to become a hero. After the first few burning buildings extinguished in seconds just with a wave of her hand, however, the public has started to cry out against superheroes for not using their powers for more constructive things than just gloryseeking and showboating as comicbook heroes.
There's been more than a few sidekicks and PR representatives showing up to her apartment to threaten her for making the other heroes look bad, but in the end she gets up and goes to work anyway. To her, being a hero isn't about escapism or a power fantasy. It's about making the world a safer place. If her contribution is to walk up to houses and press down on some fire, and the worst she faces for it are some self righteous nerds in spandex, then that's just fine. She isn't in it for the marketing or the approval, knowing she's saving lives is its own reward.
Though... she'd be lying not to admit to letting loose a few "fireworks" for the local kids from time to time. Gotta have fun sometimes, right?
|
Here on Fox News, we are covering the story of The Amazon, catching on fire. This seems to not be able to be contained nothing we can do to stop this.” eternal flame” we have dumped so much water on this we don’t even want to bore you about how much water it was and it didn’t even go down a little bit. It seems nothing that we do takes this fire down * all of the fireman at the scene* we need to call HIM he must be able to deal with us. He’s a fire whisperer he arrives in the fire. Just disappears like nothing happened in the first place the chief of the fire department runs to call HIM He arrives at the scene 30 minutes later. With one big wave of his hand, he completely extinguishes the fire spanning across 1000 mi.² of fire. Everybody all of the news reporters and everything are speechless. One guy just waved his hand and this fire that seemed unstoppable just stopped, but then, as everyone was cheering and excitement, the fire started again, but this time it was bigger.
| 2022-12-16T20:08:47 | 2022-12-16T14:17:15 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..."
|
"Alright. Listen very carefully."
I sat there, riveted. Quinn had been with me for so long I couldn't imagine life without her. She was my best friend in the truest sense... always there, up for every adventure, a shoulder to cry on.
I was more than happy to listen. After all, she had been on the receiving end of a thousand diatribes from me over the years. She had helped me work my way though countless problems with her unwaivering attention and knowing eyes. The least I could do now is return the favor.
She licked her chops. It was clear that it took considerable effort to speak but she soldiered on like she always did, and leaned in close to emphasize her words:
"What time are we going for a walk?"
|
"Listen very carefully. There is a box buried under your house. I saw a man hide it there a long time ago, and he explained to his friend what it was. It's the key to a house in Guatemala with an ancient Mayan scroll decrypting all the ancient secrets to their ways of life, gods, medicines, and treasuries hidden deep in the jungle. If you take it and go to the ruins of Copán, you will find the information to unlock all these secrets, hidden for a millennium. Take me with you, I like the adventure. I would have gone myself, but I can't use keys."
Debía haber prestado atención en mis clases de inglés.
| 2017-02-23T05:50:11 | 2017-02-23T05:23:49 | 219 | 72 |
[WP] The emperor laughed and boasted to the human leader. "That was a fun war! Let me know when your soldiers come back alive." "...Are you saying your people do not die? Forever?" "Wait, what?"
|
When the smile faded from the emperor's face, the human in front of him grinned. He stood there in shackles; chains so heavy he had been forced to shuffle into the resplendent hall and there was still an arrogance about him, a careless disregard for his situation.
A few of the courtiers looked at their supreme lord; his ashy-grey skin glistening with sweat as a servant mopped his brow. He furrowed his brow as he leant forwards in his throne.
"You... die forever? The Great Melody does not sing you back into being?"
Valens scoffed, a sharp noise that was nearly a tut. "We have one life which millions of us have thrown at this war. There's no 'Great Melody' bullshit."
Confusion flickered over the emperor's face as he waved his hand through the air, causing five machines to rise from their charging stations in order to fan his face. Their pulsing ion stabilisers didn't quite drown out the far-distant drone of some sort of space-craft.
"Then... what if your children die? Do they not awaken in a few days, healthy again?"
"No." Valens said, flatly. "If only they did. Then we wouldn't have had to pull their tiny bodies from the rubble you reduced our colony's cities to."
"What do you... do with them, then?" the emperor pressed.
"They're buried or cremated, obviously. We can't leave bodies out in the open to rot. It's unhygienic. And traumatising for their families."
Valens paused, considered this and continued. He was struck hard on the back of the head to finally silence him when half the court had fainted in abject horror. Even the emperor looked weak as he gripped the arms of his throne for support.
Silence! The emperor thought to himself: this species are shards of silence in the Great Melody! It was impossible - only beasts could be Silence. You needed the Melody to be a thinking, feeling, sapient race! And yet, one was stood in front of him now. So they were limited to such short, fragile lives. How did they do it? The dread of mortality was dizzying just for the emperor to think about.
And the far-off droning had grown a little louder, but nothing that seemed to alarm the guards. Perhaps a few more had joined them, but the emperor was sure it was of no concern. Even if the humans did try to strike this planet, the Great Melody would sing them back into life again.
"This war-game, then." tried one of the emperor's advisors.
"Genocide!" Valens barked: "Dress it up all you like, you've killed billions of- what?"
The emperor squinted as deep furrows appeared in his brow. He leant forwards again and pointed at Valens.
"This word. 'Genocide'. What does it mean?"
Valens stared for a moment in open-mouthed bewilderment, and then a terrible smile crawled across his face.
"You didn't study human history." he said, with palpable glee.
"Why-" the emperor hesitated and looked towards his advisors, but they were already frantically scanning their records. They had looted, catalogued and promptly ignored in their blissful arrogance, all the history of the human race as it had been recorded. As one, the advisors' fins drooped as they dropped their tablets from shaking fingers, then turned to run.
Valens watched this with detached amusement. "Guess your Great Melody doesn't make you a hive-mind, then." he commented. "Or else you'd all be running like they are."
One of the guards picked up one of the devices to hand to the emperor. He scanned the displayed screen for a moment, froze, and read it again; more frantically this time. When he looked up, his gem-like eyes were filled with fear.
"You Thorossians are afraid of the Silence-That-Follows because of the jungle." Valens said: "On our home planet, we mostly feared each other. We can do terrible things in the name of victory. By the way, some of your soldiers never made it back, right?"
He bared his teeth. "Imagine," Valens hissed: "what we can learn from a species that won't stay *dead*."
"Kill it!" the emperor shrieked, pointing with a shaking finger at Valens. "Kill the Silence-Beast!"
Valens was laughing now, as the distant droning became loud enough for everyone in the court to hear; it drowned out even Valens' hysterical cackling. He stopped, with maniacal glee in his eyes as he cocked his head, listening.
A few of the courtiers looked around, and then the droning stopped. Silence for a moment as the emperor looked with horrified eyes at Valens. He straightened up.
"We are become *death. Destroyer of worlds."* he announced.
For a moment, those in the hall felt pain. A few would have been aware for long enough to recognise it as the agony that preceded death. They might also have been conscious that something was terribly wrong as their cells ripped themselves apart.
Any Thorossian beyond their home planet was briefly crippled by the terrible scream that echoed through their Great Melody. Some of them were close enough to see the detonation on their home planet; that cloud of smoke and fire that rose from their glittering capital... and flattened it.
There would be no more war games. No more wars at all for the Thoross. They had learned what it was to die, and they did not want to experience it again.
\----------------
r/Eight_Legged_Pest
|
Standing on the podium, Susan made a speech.
They fought for many things, but most of all to protect their loved ones.
A message came through on the radio. from the emperor.
"Susan, you can end this. Just walk away and leave it all behind."
Psychological warfare, typical.
And to war they went, a battle to end all battles, a vision of hell and brimstone to make death a mercy.
The fields were washed in crimson, but it was nothing compared to the stench. A stench that meant obliteration, the end of life, a decay so strong no fly dared to feast on the remnants of what had once been an army.
The message came on the radio where a dead operator sat. A dilapidated bunker would serve as conference room to sign peace and, hopefully, end this tragedy for good.
There, Susan would force the emperor into a truce after the massacre that bled both sides dry. She still heard the howitzers tearing the sky apart with fire, saw the trenches running red with the blood of the young and innocent sent to die in a pointless war.
This war wasn't pointless, at least Susan hoped so. The emperor had started the hostilities, and she was the last line of defense to organize the defenses and prevail. Why her? Why not somebody else? There were hundreds better suited than poor Susan to wage war, yet they all listened to what she said.
She went to the bunker on foot, every motorized vehicle had been destroyed. Every men and women had been killed too, she was walking alone in the fog, stepping over the corpses of the dead. A man lay in a ditch, he had taken his life with a pistol before the conflict washed over the land. A woman had died in his arms, tears frozen onto her face. Cowards and traitors hung from trees, under which a lone child had frozen to death. With each step she took, another vision of despair and decay overwhelmed her.
But the conflict was over. There was nothing left to kill.
The emperor smiled, laughed and shook her hand, telling Susan she was getting good at this and that he couldn't wait for the next round.
What round? Susan had never done this before.
"Susan," said the emperor, "are we really going to have this conversation again?"
"Soldiers don't rise from death."
"Of course they do, my soldiers do, yours... we all do here."
"Enough with the games, you monster, you've done enough damage."
The emperor looked sad. He didn't even look like an emperor, just a normal middle-aged man in an old suit.
"Susan. You don't have to fight this war. You can leave any time you want, you know you can."
"This war is over. And I had to protect my loved ones."
"Do you remember what your loved ones look like?"
Susan's memory was blank. As hard as she tried, she did not remember what lovers, brothers and sisters felt like. She could not even picture her face.
"Susan, please. All you have to do is walk away. Just once, and it will be over. You can leave this nightmare, please, do it."
"Lies!"
Susan ran back, back to camp, back to her own, away from the emperor's ploy. She stumbled upon the cadaver of the man that had shot himself and fell face-to-face with the woman. The sad woman. The grief-stricken woman. And Susan's face wasn't blank anymore.
She was Susan.
And Susan remembered her husband. She remembered the man she loved, the man that had been so terrified by the oncoming war and found a way out before it came. She remembered the grief and the accusations she flung at herself in the mirror while the blood of the man laying outside was still warm. Had she been a better wife, she could have given him the courage to lower his hand and rise his head. Had she been a better human, she would have found a way to protect him. But she failed, and her love was dead.
What to do without her love?
In tears, she went outside and wrapped herself in her dead husband's arms.
And Susan died from a broken heart, thinking about all the things she could have done better.
As a soldier, she could have saved him from the enemies. As an officer, she could have done more. As a commander, she could have fought off the oncoming army.
She could have, she should have. She'd give anything for another shot, another chance. To be strong and good and courageous, to succeed where she failed.
She can, she should.
Susan was walking back to camp, the destroyed vehicles reshaped themselves into functional machines, the dead poked into their holes to take out bullets and stand back up.
Men and women gathered, weapons were distributed, courage was nurtured in numbers.
Standing at the podium, Susan made a speech.
They fought for many things, but most of all to protect their loved ones.
A message came through on the radio, from the emperor.
"Susan, you can end this, just walk away and leave it all behind."
Psychological warfare, typical.
And to war they went, a battle to end all battles, a vision of hell and brimstone to make death a mercy.
The fields were washed in crimson, but it was nothing compared to the stench. A stench that meant obliteration, the end of life, a decay so strong no fly dared to feast on the remnants of what had once been an army.
The message came through the radio where a dead operator sat. A dilapidated bunker would serve as conference room to sign peace, and, hopefully, end this tragedy for good.
| 2021-07-13T11:14:50 | 2021-07-13T08:56:56 | 1,222 | 295 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?"
|
"Hahahahahahahahaha!"
"Are you done?"
"HAHAHAHAHA! Ha. Ahem. Seriously, though, is this some kind of joke? I didn't think you went in for psychological misdirection."
Starfire groaned. "I wish. None of my friends can come, and you're my only, um, professional contact who knows my secret identity."
"What, no fellow heroes who could swoop in to save you? Don't you tell each other your names?"
"We cut back on sharing intel after The Scientist made the hat that turns people evil."
I made a mental note to come up with a way to exploit this information later. "I must admit, I'm intrigued. But tell me, what makes you think you can trust me with this delicate social situation?"
"You've been an honorable foe, and-."
"Real reason."
"Fine. As long as you don't embarrass me too badly, you get to watch me lie to my friends and family. I figured that would be enough of an incentive for you."
"HAHAHAHAHA! You're not wrong."
"So... you'll do it?"
"Here's how this will go, Lily. Yes, you have to get used to me saying your real name. No, you don't get to know my true identity. You'll refer to me as a pseudonym that I choose. Lady Kay Oss. No, Helen Hywater. Mary Poopins! Hmm. I'll send you the name later."
"Ugh. Fine."
"I will not chip in for a present. I will wear a sexy dress. Your ex will be super jealous of you. Kissing is on the table if the chemistry is right."
"Oh! Um..."
"I will be an excellent wedding guest. I'll make small talk and tell mildly embarrassing stories about you, which you will back up. I get to exchange phone numbers with your friends so I can continue messing with you in the future."
"Oh, come on. That's not-."
"I am also prepared to spill a glass of red wine on your ex's dress."
"...deal."
|
"Wow... this *is* embarrassing... take some pictures for me?"
"DON'T MESS WITH ME! Seriously, no joke, my ex is an absolute monster... I can't be seen alone with her around?"
"OH MAN THIS IS RICH! Did your ex run off with a tall, hot guy? Were you not good in bed?"
"Geez, have some respect! I'd hang up *right now*, but I can't ask anyone else..."
"Not even one of your hero buddies? Oh, you could hire a stripper!"
"STOP MESSING AROUND! I have my reputation to think about, you know."
"So why call me? If people found out who I was..."
"You're the only one I could even tell. As annoying as you are... I know you're not judging me."
"You're absolutely right. I don't judge. After all, how'd that help me?"
"...So?"
"Ok, here's how we're doing things: obviously neither of us are to reveal our identities. Fighting is also even more obviously out the question. If people begin to suspect, divert the conversation. And on the off-chance our date goes well, you're coming back with me"
"WHAT? Coming back... with *YOU*??? You must be joking!"
"Would I joke like that? Come on, if it does go well, wouldn't you want some... *quality time*?"
"...Damn you. Fine, I agree. And no need to say it, I know you'll be able to sense my real emotions, so I can't lie."
"Exactly. And remember, I can also quite easily sway emotions..."
"You know that doesn't work easily on me."
"It might be different when you see my outfit, sugar. Let me know the details later. I'll be expecting you to pick me up on the day. I'm counting on you, darling."
"Curse you..." *SLAM!*
| 2022-10-06T19:28:15 | 2022-10-06T16:48:24 | 248 | 158 |
[WP] It turns out your apartment was so cheap to rent because one of the cupboards is actually a portal to the Underworld. It’s not dangerous, but the number of adventurers knocking at your door in the middle of the night looking to go through is starting to get annoying.
|
The sign was in large red lettering, leaving nothing to the imagination,
“Entrance into the Underworld Hours”
Monday-Friday 10am-6pm
Absolutely no weekends
Argan the Brave stared at the letters in disbelief, armor clanking as he adjusted his stance. That couldn’t be right. This was the only entrance to the Underworld in 1500 miles. There was no way it had hours. Though he did think it was odd that the portal was apparently in a nondescript apartment forty minutes outside town.
Argan stood there for a few more minutes, internally debating if he really had to wait until 10am to try and defeat his mortal enemy, Uric the Destroyer who had destroyed his farm and stolen his girlfriend in one fell swoop.
Eventually, he knocked on the door. Loud, definitive knocks to prove that nothing so much as business hours would stop Argan from reclaiming his girlfriend and his honor. The door flew open and Argan was confronted with the angriest woman he’d ever seen, wrapped in a blue robe with her hair up in rollers.
“I swear, all you hero types are the same!” The woman spat. “Didn’t you read the sign?”
“I am Argan-” Argan started but before he could go into his speech he’d practiced the entire Uber ride over; he was cut off again.
“Listen stupid, I don’t care why you’re here, it is five o’clock in the fucking morning, I have to teach middle school history in two hours. I don’t have time to debate why you’re here.”
“I lost my farm and my girlfriend to Uric the Destroyer.” Argan tried again, “I’m here for vengeance and to destroy Uric like he destroyed me!”
The woman started laughing so hard she had to hold on to the door to remain upright.
“Oh! You’re here for Uric and Vicky?” she asked, between gasps of air. “Man, you’re out of luck. I went to their wedding down in the Underworld this weekend, she’s never coming back to you.”
Argan just stood there watching the woman wipe tears of laughter out of her eyes. “Oh sweetheart, I needed that.” she stated, while shutting the door in his face. “Next time honey, make sure the girl you’re dating isn’t in love with a seven foot tall destroyer.”
|
Entrance to Underworld under new Management, 1 Silver Piece for entry during the day. 1 GP for night entry. NO REFUNDS.
Max Hellslayer, took one look at the sign and did a double take. And then rang the bell lableled "Underworld".
"Yeah, its after dark. It will one gold piece per person. Pay in advance", The voice was bored, annoyed and sounds like it had just been kicked out of bed.
"WHAT? Isn't this the Portal to the Underworld?" Max Hellslayer exclaimed?
"Yup, And the traffic is keeping me up at night. Pay up or clear out. If you plan on camping out on my lawn I'm going to charge you full gold piece because I just got it resodded.", the voice replied.
"But its the portal the underworld, a source of unspeakable evil!"
"Yeah and its in my old kitchen cupboard. And I can't keep a job because people keep trying to break in to get to portal. If I want to pay the rent, you pay me for access. I've had the room tiled and added a spray hose so *if* you get back we'll just spray you off before you go dripping entrails through the rest of the house. I learned that after one of those big barbarian fellows left a trail of something blue and green in the house. Current return rate from the underworld is less than 1 in 10. So are you going to pay up or am I going to back to bed because you got cold feet? If you start complaining about the price, that means you can't afford gear good enough to have a chance of surviving the underworld. Anyone who complained about the price never came back from the underworld."
Max just stared at the door for a second, dug into his pockets and fished out a gold coin and slid it into the slot in the door.
Several seconds later Max heard the sound of several heavy dead bolts being pulled open.
"Okay, from here, turn right go down the hall there is a door with a red light above it. That's the old kitchen. The hose is just inside the door. Leave the light on in there, anyone who manages to get back from the underworld needs the light. Good luck."
And Max turned right and strode down the hall to his destiny.
| 2022-01-01T19:54:42 | 2022-01-01T18:05:11 | 137 | 47 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results.
|
“…And when the oppressors finally face their doom, they will know why is it that I’m called The Grudge!” I hammered the steel podium in front of me with a fist and watched it crumple like a tin can. The wave of stunned silence in the great field was breached by a triumphant uproar. My soldiers cried my name in reverence, their eyes gleaming, their hands raised in right angle in the ritual salute. Thousands upon thousands of rows of men and women, proclaiming their eternal devotion for me. I smiled one of my few chosen smiles saved for just such occasion, and presented them the ritual salute back. They loved this crap. The more they loved it, the more intense their faith became. The faith fuelled their belief in my powers. And so rose the power of The Grudge.
When I returned to my chambers it was well nigh past dinner. The ceremony had stretched too long, with me recounting all the evils that the oppressors had wrought, and how they would be paid back in their blood. Then my ministers seized their chance, having their own little versions of chest pumping speeches. They received applause too – and as long as they swore their fealty to me in the end, it would all serve only The Grudge. But Gods, it was exhausting.
Dismissing my aides for the day I retreated to my dining hall. It was difficult not to show I was starving in front of my underlings, but decades of cruel training had ingrained these reflexes in my bones. There was already someone sitting at the table, head down, scribbling along in notebooks and humming a cheerful tune – a sharp contrast against the servants who rushed to set the table with a tenuous perfection. He jumped as the echoes of my stride broke his concentration, then smiled.
“Hon, you are back! But its so late!” He checked his wrist. “Oh, poor dear, have you eaten anything?! Sit down, sit down!” He rushed to me, taking me by the hands and kissing me to the flustered astonishment of the servants,
“Michael!” I hissed, feigning annoyance. But I knew that he knew – this was the first time today that I was truly at ease. I cleared the creases of his coat lapels, enjoying for a moment his embrace before we parted.
As I sat down to eat he sat next to me, my ever doting husband. It was silly really, The Grudge herself being pampered by someone, and I kept telling him that. It had no effect on him.
“How was your day, darling?”
I sighed. There were servants within the earshot. “I would rather hear about you day, Michael.”
His face lit up. “Oh, I was thinking about what you said the other day, about me gaining some followers too – I think I came up with a great salute!”
“Oh?” I smiled. This had ought to be good.
“Yeah, let me show you. Tom, would you come here for a second?” The server nodded and rushed to the table, his face ever tense, droplets of sweat lining his temples. If I crushed him the man would ooze sweat like a sponge dipped in water, I thought.
“Oh, would you relax?” Michael chimed in and the spell was broken. The server blinked, breathing deeply and freely. “Remember what I taught you a today? Let’s try it out, okay?”
They raised their hands simultaneously as if greeting each other, then shifted forward and clapped each other palms resoundingly. I stopped chewing my food at that bizarre display.
“I call it the High-Five!” Michael declared. It was a nice ritual salute. I could feel Tony’s – or whatever the servant’s name was – devotion for my husband. Devotion without fear. Interesting. “Isn’t it great? You can go now, Tom, thanks!”
“Very… original, Michael.”
He settled down besides me. “You didn’t like it?”
“I liked it very much. But you seemed to have forgotten something. You can’t ‘High-Five’ a million followers. That would get a bit tedious.”
He laughed. The kind one does without fear of retribution. It was uncanny.
“I know! I am not planning to have a million of people following me anyway. A few will suffice. Let’s say – enough so that I may ‘High-Five’ them all.”
I stifled my grin.
|
The shadows in the castle lengthened with her mere presence, even the guards, trained to handle almost any situation without fear, only barely resisted the urge to shiver as an unnatural cold filled the air. The queen made her way down into the dungeon, moving with unearthly elegance and radiating an aura of control and calm even as she made her way into a cursed place where the sins of a hundred generations of tyrants were allowed to fester, not even producing a slight sadistic grin or disgusted snarl like previous rulers of the castle did in these same walls. Once she reached the end of the tunnel and went through a set of heavy wooden doors however her expression had completely changed, immediately becoming more relaxed, content, and most of all tired as she looked upon the latest mess her husband had made in the royal laboratory,
"Honey, I... I didn't see you there!" her husband exclaimed, slightly muffled by layers of pink foam that filled the room,
"What did you make this time, a new formula of shampoo?" she asked, allowing herself to let out a far from intimidating giggle as blew the mixture away with a small spell,
"Not at all actually, I saw your notes on how those pesky heroes kept on escaping from your traps, and I wanted to help" He replied as he tore off chunks of sticky foam that still clung to his clothes, "Worked a little too well it seems."
"Oh Ian, I appreciate the effort, but I told you, leave all that nasty business with the heroes to me!" she said, she loved moments like these when her bumbling oaf of a husband tried to help, but really she was thinking less sticky pink foam and more deadly pits full of adders,
"You never let me do anything fun Krystal!" her husband mock pouted, breaking soon after into laughter with her joining in soon after,
Her mind wandered to the day when she had met Ian, he was then a humble alchemist, hardly a drop of noble blood in him and yet he had made quite a name for himself due to his skill at his craft even then, other than that there truly was nothing special about him. However she saw something in him the moment they locked eyes, sure it was while his store was trashed during yet another confrontation with those annoying brats who called themselves heroes, and it was about the same time she cast a fireball a little too closely to some poorly placed bottles of oil, hardly a romantic setting. After calling some of the best physicians and healers in her kingdom to tend to the man's burns she still didn't know why she went out of her way to save him, she remembered saying something about future plans or some garbage like that, but it hardly matters, for soon she knew exactly what she saw in him. They couldn't be more opposite, once he could freely talk and move again he showed himself to be everything she wasn't, a hopeless optimist, a humble man who didn't even boast about the greatest of achievements and a kind soul whose warmth provided a comforting contrast to the icy politics she surrounded herself with. She remembered their first clumsy steps into courtship with a smile, the anger of the noble families who hated the idea of their queen running off with some nobody before being harshly reminded on exactly why she was queen with a few executions, and his proposal to her while they were having dinner over yet another riot erupting in the city. She loved this man, but he had no place being involved in her little 'family business'.
"Have a shower dear, I don't know what is in that stuff but it stinks of rotten eggs and burnt corpses!" she jokingly ordered, at least she thought it had a hint of rotten eggs, she had never smelt that particular stench before,
"Yes your terrible majesty!" he laughed as he made his way out of the laboratory, the room suddenly becoming far colder as he shut the door behind him.
What was she here for again? Ah yes, interrogations! Good thing this lab was built right next the the castle dungeons she thought as the shadows once again lengthened, and the mask of the cold, cruel evil queen replaced Krystal Tyrannis with practiced ease and a set of bloodstained torturer's tools manifested out of thin air. The screams echoed through the castle all night, and the guards silently wondered what manner of man the king was if he could go about his day with such cheer when married to a monster such as their queen...
| 2020-04-14T06:09:54 | 2020-04-14T05:41:49 | 320 | 237 |
[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 heard a scratching sound coming from someplace nearby. It sounded like nails against a wooden door. It was dark and I could not tell where the sound was coming from, but it sounded so close. I started to get scared and closed my eyes, trying to focus more on the origin of that incessant noise. I was breathing rapidly, though I felt like I wasn't getting any air.
Suddenly, I noticed a pain in the tips of my fingers, as I had worn them down to the bone scratching at the lid of my coffin. Scratching.
Scratching.
| 2015-06-09T09:54:42 | 2015-06-09T09:18:30 | 95 | 13 |
[WP] God has been watching as human technology gets more advanced. With each advancement it becomes easier for them to kill each other. In order to save his creation he adds an 11th commandment. "Thou Shalt not use any form of projectile weapon, melee only you cowards.".
|
"Citizens of Earth, I hope this telecast finds you well. The next 24 hours will be the most important period of time in the history of our planet, maybe forever. I know you have all been waiting for news of first contact, and I am here to tell you that we have been successful. Humanity has landed for the first time on Mount Olympus!
Two of the three pods we sent out stayed - Ecstasy and Brilliance - watched from the horizon as Discovery XI touched down on the red soils of the fabled mountains. You will see the pictures shortly, and videos of the event thereafter.
But most importantly, we have our worst fears confirmed. The gods did not abandon us. They ran from us. They hid from us. They hoped we would never find them again.
To those cowardly beings, who failed in their cosmic duty to beings they were sworn to take care of, we have only one message - "You cannot hide anymore.
24 hours after the beep at the end of this message, humanity will launch its first wave of attacks. A battalion of 3 million strong accompanied by enough firepower to bomb their abode until it is nothing more than rabble and stone will be deployed, under the supervision of General Moss. Shortly thereafter, two more battalions will commence for the far end of the galaxy, where we suspect the Titans have taken refuge.
In this time, it is my displeasure to tell you that the Gods have indeed reached out to us. "No projectlies. Fight with honor, you puny humans." is what they managed to get through to us. As one of you, as one of the puny humans they so blithely underestimate, it is with great pleasure that I can promise you that we did send a message back.
No.
No is all they will hear from us before they drown in a sea of fire. No is all they will hear from us as they dread the day they decided not to run farther from us. No is all they will hear from us, as they come face to face with their worst nightmare.
Humanity, go home to your loved ones and turn on the television. Humanity, we have found our salvation. We have found our Gods. It is only fair that you watch them die."
---
Elsewhere, the skies rumbled. Zeus' arms shook in fear, the first in a long time.
|
Charles nearly lost grip of his hilt as the jeep hit a bump in the road, preparing to venture down the impending fork ahead. Picking his whetstone, he resumed his project.
"ATTEN-TION" A command that had come from the head of the convoy. Charles opened the door to the jeep and filed out behind the heavy mace user in front of him.
"You all know your squads, please enter them. Charles was the captain of his squad, and his mates made eye contact with him, and lined up behind him in a timely fashion. Accompanying Charles in to battle were about 4 others. A mace user by the name of Humphrey, a sword and shield user by the name of Duncan, an axe user named William, and an archer by the name of Watson. To the surprise of each world's military, bows and arrows still remained in operation, however compound bows faded into the void along with firearms.
"Alright men, today we will be facing a unique enemy. Their fighting style is unique, along with the style of their weapons, it is advised you take caution, and protect our ace. This isn't his first time facing the Japanese, and they will surely be out for blood seeking vengeance for their comrades he has slain. Charles, the archers will make sure to focus on your area when a flare is sighted, and our convoy units will also be nearby if support is needed. However, once you get in the midst of fighting, you will be on your own."
Charles nodded, and removing his two-handed sword from his hilt, he silently and solemnly stepped forward to the front of his battalion. In the distance, the familiar noise of swords being removed from their sheaths could be heard. Charles continued to review what he knew of the Japanese fighting styles. Primarily solo duelers, they did not tend to fight in groups, but singlehandedly against an opponent. However, after their first battles, they realized this was not always the most effective way of fighting, and occasionally had archers and convoy to assist them. Although, this did not stop the common soldier to stop, raise his katana, and charge at Charles upon recognizing his armor.
After remembering all of this, Charles sighed and admired his sword, and began marching forward across the green grass.
| 2019-08-12T12:10:52 | 2019-08-12T12:01:06 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] The Assassin stared me down, readying their weapon as I lay helpless to do anything. “As a courtesy, I’ll give you one final request. Anything within my power.” they said. All I could respond with was… “Wanna go on a date?”
|
Lovely sounds filled the establishment. Some idle chatter, the gentle clatter of silverware against ceramic, and the piano soloist was just heavenly. All the makings of a quaint, intimate atmosphere, and I was quite certain that we were surrounded by people falling in love, much like how we were not.
I sat there, a little hunched over, head propped up at the elbow, looking pointedly off to the side. I dazily pondered my unfamiliar environment, this dazzling establishment, my mind totally unoccupied by whom I shared the table with, who I sent a quick glance. She was still there, sure enough. My companion for the evening, sat across from me, perfectly upright and alert, her unfaltering gaze centered upon my face.
I allowed a bit of indignance to cross me. "Could you quit that? It's creepy," I said. She had no response other than perhaps to intensify her gaze. I shriveled a bit.
It's nothing. She might have the upper hand, in a few ways, but I won't lose to her in wit. "So you're just gonna give me the silent treatment?" I said.
Her face did not change. "I am simply fulfilling the terms of our agreement," she said. "Your final wish."
"Yeah, well, maybe you could put a little more effort into it. Lousiest date I've ever been on..." I said, resuming my sidewards glance, finding her gaze a little too bright to match. Maybe wit was a lost cause.
I was expecting more silence, but surprisingly I found a response from her. "I do not have much experience in matters such as these."
My eyes found her again. She was looking away, down at the table. Our meals were still in the kitchen. When she ordered, she said, "I'll have the same as him."
Where her expression was previously blank, there now was a subtle, similarly inscrutable display of emotion. Had I insulted her? Well, probably. She seemed a little uncomfortable, though. Vulnerable, even. Don't tell me...
"And you're insecure about it," I said, a little amused.
Her eyes came back up, a little knit in her brow. "I am simply... like I said, I do not have experience with these types of affairs."
"So you're insecure."
Alright, I thought. Sure. I'll take it. This certainly was better than nothing.
"You are a very frustrating man," she said. "People like you... who think they can delay the inevitable. You anger me."
"Don't be so presumptuous," I said. "Maybe I just wanted to get to know you, a little."
It was like I flipped a switch, the turn in her expression almost instant. She really was lovely, and right now I had her quite surprised.
"Well..." she said, hesitant, surprise having given way to embarrassment, which was rather adorable. "Ask me, then."
×××××××××
Even after the fact, I could not quite fathom his intentions.
It couldn't possibly be that he simply wanted to get to know me. But what else, then?
Because in the end, that's exactly what happened. He got to know me, and I got to know him. And as the evening came to a close, there was an understanding, something novel in the space between us, our guards lowered.
He led me out, and said, "I'm glad I was able to make something of it. I kind of went in there blind, you know? Not expecting anything."
I smiled warmly, unexpectedly used to it at this point in the evening. "It was a valuable learning experience, for me," I said.
The sun was down, and the air was chilly, revealing our breaths. The city sprawled high up into the air, encompassing a magnificent display of lights, in all manner of shape and size. A gorgeous sight. The sky was black and moonless, and I looked up at it, away from him.
We shared no words at this time. We didn't need to, for we both knew what came next. I told him, "Follow me," trusting that he knew he had no other option.
Wrong. I looked over, and he was gone, disappeared into the night. Slipped away while I had been taken by the city, and by him as well.
This did not agitate me. Perhaps I was not surprised. Or maybe I was even relieved, for some reason or another. And so I did not go after him.
He frustrates me. I'll meet him again.
|
The words that exit my mouth shocked me just as much as it did my agressor. A date? Really? This man gives me a courtesy of *anything* within his power, and I choose a **date**. I could have sent him after my boss, or maybe that asshole Karen, or even some kind of major terrorist or something; but no. A *date*. I'm such a fucking **idiot**.
Thankfully, it catches him off-guard as well. Is that..shock? I think that's shock on that emotionless face. Maybe this could buy me time to escape?
"A...date?" The man finally questions; cold, professional...curious? "That is...not the answer I was expecting. Your profile suggested you preferred the sexual company of women." He leaned back into the chair across from me.
"Yes...no! I mean..." And there I go, red as a beet. Jesus, I'm about to be *murdered*, and I have to still embarrass myself. Christ. "I-I don't mean like that, exactly, just like...a f-friend date! Y'know, go and hang out, maybe have a few drinks, or something." I squirm a bit in the chair, mostly out of uncomfort to the situation.
"No, I don't know." The man's answer was still cold and calculated. But definitely curious. Jesus, he tied these knots good n' tight.
Wait, no? Has this man never hung out with his friends? Wait, does this guy even *have* friends? Like, I get the whole 'calculated killer' thing, but only a loser like me doesn't have friends, right?
"Wait, seriously? Surely you're joking, right?"
"I am always serious." The man leaned forward, ice-cold voice tinged with warning. "And do not call me Shirley."
I can't help but to give a bit of a laugh, which the man is **certainly** not pleased with. "Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh!" I apologize, still chuckling a bit. "But...that's from Airplane, it's a classic movie, so I assume you do something in your free time."
The man, curious again, "No."
Right, now *I'm* speechless one. Like, fair enough, it's an older movie, and not everyone is into comedy. But...not doing *anything*? This guy lives a sadder life than I do. But, assumingly, not as poor.
I am unable to speak, at first and when I find my voice, I am shocked at myself.
"Well, it's obvious that we need to find *something* outside of your work that you'll enjoy. I got a bunch of movies at home, we'll start there. I've got a couple streaming services, too, maybe even see if you like anime. I got some games, too; retro, new, board, and tabletop, card. Try a little bit of everything, see what you like."
The man was silent for a moment, but then gave a curt laugh. He stands, sharp laughter piercing into my soul, walking around behind me. Oh fuck, he's going to slit my throat here and now, oh Jesus fuck he's going to kill me I'm sorry Ma I tried to be a good person fuck you Dad I'll see you in hell same to Karen fuck you oh God I'm sorry oh fuck...
Oh. My hands are free. Wait, what the fuck?
"Certainly the most interesting final request I've heard." The man chuckles, cold words sending chills down my spine. "But you have caught my interest. Let us be off, then."
He grabs me and stands me up abruptly, then brushes some of the dirt and grime from me.
"Uh, yeah, thanks." I begin to follow him out, before a thought occurrs. "Hey, uh, what's your name? I mean, uh, w-what should I call you, like you don't have to give your real name or anything, just, like, I can't just call you 'hey you!' all the time and--"
He stops and turns, placing a hand on my shoulder, which is replied with an 'eep'. "I have no name and any name. They call me Agent, mostly."
A moment of silence, before my stupid brain spouts out a question. "Can I call you John?"
A smile...a genuine one? Wait, does this dude seriously have no name?
"Yes, John is fine."
| 2022-04-24T13:05:34 | 2022-04-24T09:43:04 | 230 | 126 |
[WP] You awaken to find yourself tied down to a railroad track. About 30 meters away from you is a parallel track with 5 people tied to it. You look to your right and see a convergence where your track meets theirs. A train begins barreling towards the intersection as a man approaches the switch.
|
I groggily looked over, taking in my situation. The man put his hand on the lever, the five on the other track started begging and pleading. The man looked at me.
I looked at him. "You're absolutely the most stylish fucking serial killer and I'm baffled that they can't catch you. It'd be my honor to get to be one of your victims. " I said.
He pulled out a small device and hit a button, the train, well more of a trolley really, ground to a half a few feet away from the other five people.
The man walked over to me and knelt down, expression unscrutable. Then he walked to the others, pulled out the device and hit the button again and quietly watched them die in agony.
I waited silently horrified for a minute then asked, "So... Does this mean I go free?"
He walked over, taking a syringe and medicine vial out of his jacket. He finally spoke, looming over me, "Have you ever heard of the Prisoner's Dilemma?"
|
The strangely clad woman rushing toward the switch brings up her arm which launches a bright ball of blue energy at the track in front of the trolley. A blue disk snaps into existence above the point of impact as the trolley toots its horn desperately before it slams into the crackling energy circle, completely disintegrating. Just when you thought you were saved, another horn answers from the other side, deeper in pitch.
But this one is exiting an orange energy disk, headed away. It looks like you are saved after all.
She removed her helmet, bringing up a sheet of blue energy that shapes itself into words you can't quite read. "Review game," she commands to nobody in particular. "Just a re-hash of old gameplay mechanics remixed with classic philosophy problems. One star. I received this game for free," she dictates, before disappearing as if she were never there.
The six of you remain tied to the tracks.
| 2022-10-10T06:09:04 | 2022-10-10T05:37:01 | 35 | 21 |
[WP] You are a medieval villager who has been cursed by a witch. She curses you to be live until you are the last human alive. After a 1000 years you try to start the apocalypse.
|
As it turned out, starting the apocalypse was the easy part. After a few false starts with the World Wars, I finally saw my chance in 1962, with the Cuban missile crisis. All I had to do was set off a few explosions and negotiations fell through. The subsequent missile strikes made it easy enough for me to sneak in and launch even more nuclear bombs to locations of my choosing, and by the end of the year I'd estimate 90% of the human population was dead.
The hard part was that last 10%. I went around tearing down whatever vestiges of civilization I could find, and when I couldn't find any more I figured I'd done my job and could just wait out the remaining stragglers to die out. So I waited. I waited 100 years, and tried to kill myself each and every day, but it wouldn't take. Somebody out there was still procreating and prolonging my damn life.
So I went on a world tour once again, which was pretty difficult considering I'd single-handedly shut down the world's commercial airline system but hey, I had time. I spent centuries walking the entire Earth, looking everywhere I could possibly think of for that last family that was denying me my death, but no matter where I looked I couldn't find any signs of any human life at all.
Eventually I gave up, and went back to England to lie face down on the ground and try to act as dead as I could manage. I did that for a few more centuries, and then, to my surprise, somebody found me. As soon as I processed what was happening, I leapt up and stabbed him in the heart. The man just laughed.
“Not gonna do you much good there. See, I can’t die until I’m the last human alive, and I figure the same goes for you.”
|
Tinker, tailor
soldier, sailor
rich man, poor man
beggarman, thief.
I'm so old, there's a nursery rhyme about me. All those men, those are me. The words she cursed me with, I've lived, and died, these lives. Shot, stabbed, strangled, the fast, easy deaths, and the slow suffering of plague, dysentery, whooping cough.
But I don't stay dead. The old witch had her ways about her, she's long dead, and her curse lives. I carried the plague rat into her village, and I burned her body(and her family).
I don't stay dead. I heal. Bullets, baseball bats,blades, it all heals, even mortal injuries. It's kinda cool to watch. I don't get older, either. I've been healing from wounds for so long, I've started to gain conscious control of those functions. I heal faster just by thinking about it.
I have had 80 wives, and dozens of mistresses. Hundreds of kids, hundreds more grand children, and their grand children, and theirs. A lot of my kids are dead, centuries dead, their progeny, my family, is over a million strong. In 30 countries, 67 languages. Some of my kids, and grandkids, have tried to kill me. But I don't stay dead. The curse means I am the last to die.Most of them go with the long bet. A family this big, in all these countries, I have ears, eyes, and fingers in politics, law, banking, military research. They all think it's some grand design, my plague of children. They move the money, the ships, the bombs, at my bidding.
I am dynasty.
| 2018-09-01T00:38:26 | 2018-09-01T00:24:35 | 2,464 | 44 |
[WP] A society where everyone is born gender less, and has to pick a gender by their 18th birthday.
|
I lost everything that day.
Dad was beaming as I entered the kitchen for breakfast. "So you ready to finally be a REAL man like your pop!?" He was still chuckling when mom delivered my plate to me. "Your dad has been waiting for this moment. He's been so excited ever since the day you first noticed a pretty girl." Their eyes met and as she gave him his food. "He's always wanted a boy." she smiled "And now it's going to be official!" he smiled back.
My heart sank. I had prepared to break the news to them earlier. Practiced saying it in every variation in the mirror. But I could never bring myself to burst their bubble. And now was worse than ever. But I had to tell them today. I was out of time. Today I chose. "Mom, Dad... I don't feel like a boy."
Silence.
"Y-you see..." I didn't know how to go on. "Well-" Dads fork fell to the table. "No." he looked blank. "Hun." Mom reached for my hand as she sat beside dad across from me. Dad interrupted her. "No, this is nonsense. You like girls, and sports, you're a boy and you will go to registration today and tick the box marked 'male'. End of discussion!" "But dad-" "End of discussion!"
We didn't speak again until the time came to choose. I walked silently to the booth and looked back one more time at my fathers stern face and my mothers worried concern. They kicked me out that night. I lost my family that day.
They always asked why I would choose to this life. Why I would choose to be so "unnatural".
They will never understand that it was never a choice.
|
"So... What do you choose?" The doctor asked.
There were two pills in either of his hands; one was blue, the other pink. A life where you grow up to be either a boy or girl and I didn't bother to ever look into it. What do I want?
Do I prefer being male? Waking up to find a razor and cream, the feeling of the blade running across my jaw. Walking down the stairs to find a curvacious, beautiful woman making me breakfast in the morning. I grab her from behind and feel her breasts near my chest as I hug her. I love the look of male fashion; very prim, proper, and clean. A man with a nice, clean stubble is perfect. I've wanted that look for a while.
Or do I prefer being female? Waking up next to a muscularly perfect man. Tiptoeing away from him to get into the shower. Then going down the stairs to cook breakfast for him. He hugs me and I feel safe in his muscular arms. Women fashion is more beautiful and elegant; more focus on grace and body image. I am smitten with it. It makes me feel free, yet normal. Me with a nice ponytail would be a nice image to think of.
"I think I have it Doc." I said.
*A few days later*
"I did it. I did it... for... for you. I-I love you and I want you to be mine." I said.
"I'm sorry, I love you too. But I couldn't wait for you. I went with John. He was there for me when I was lonely." Abby said.
And there I was, stuck with the body of man. Looking for the one person I truly loved, who had replaced me with another.
| 2014-07-01T05:07:14 | 2014-06-30T23:33:05 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] Write a short story where the first sentence is 20 words, the second is 19, and so on until the story ends with one word.
|
I was 12, waking up at night, asking myself if I would ever be strong enough to just let go,
Somehow, as a child, the idea of holding on, knowing it would never improve seemed like too much work
I was 13 the first time I swallowed my grandmother’s pills hoping they would give me eternal relief,
I quickly learned that all they would do was prevent me from getting a full night’s sleep.
I was also 13 the first time I took a rusty blade to my skinny wrist,
I was 14 when I decided I wanted to shrink myself into nothing, to disappear.
I was 15 and I spent my free time writing notes explaining my goodbyes.
I was 16 when I unknowingly fell in love for the first time,
I was 17 when I crossed the ocean, left my world behind.
I was 18 when I discovered alcohol numbed my hidden pain
I was 19 when the blade and I started again.
I was 19 when she broke my young heart.
I was 20, I realized I could heal.
I was 20, keeping my rainbows inside.
I am 21, rainbows come out.
I’m 21, I laugh sometimes.
I’m 21. Still hard.
21, I try.
I am,
Alive.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Edit: thanks for the silver!
|
I’ve been asked to write a short story which permits me to use exactly twenty words in the first sentence.
After that one, follows a sentence which has only nineteen words are permitted to be used within the sentence.
The next sentence is allowed to have one less word, that means this sentence has eighteen words within.
That absurdity is followed by a sentence which has not more than seventeen words and not less.
Each sentence loses a word which means that this one can only have sixteen words within.
I’m tired of counting the words down, but it’s odd to leave the count out.
Oh well, fourteen left and this is becoming more challenging, but I will advance.
Down to thirteen I go, all for a silly writing prompt on reddit.
This doesn’t seem like a story and I’m already down to twelve.
Eleven and I have wasted another two lines rambling to myself.
Ten words in this line, and yet I’ve said nothing.
Silly Skaliton, you waste another with so few left.
Just eight words to write an entire story?
So much waste, why not the rest?
Throw line six into the trash.
Why not another as well?
Why did I start this?
How bored am I?
You really care?
Bored enough.
Goodbye.
| 2019-02-19T12:03:59 | 2019-02-19T11:14:00 | 131 | 19 |
[WP] Nuclear holocaust is imminent. The rich and powerfull are hiding away in their bunkers, but when the countdown was finished the world was still there. One message was sent around the world via satellites: "Now They have imprisoned Themselves what shall We do?" With coords of all the bunkers..
|
*I take a sip of my red wine, grinning to myself as the timer had finally stopped. Just as I predicted, showing everyone on the most live of feeds, the rich and the powerful gave in, inviting absolutely nobody but themselves into their bunkers, hiding away in things which they did not create and yet took the effort which was needed to make it for granted.*
*But I’d show them. I would show them, as would the rest of the world.*
“Now they have imprisoned themselves. What shall we do?”
*My right hand had asked me, her voice as cold and monotone as mine was filled with malice and hatred for the powers that be which would have completely destroyed this world had I not taken the, ironically, nuclear approach.*
“We will take their assets and redistribute them all around, and we will no longer have a world with the greedy, the soulless, the corrupt. I’ll be the new monster of this world, and I will rid the world of every monster that exists. I have the power to now with their, generous donation.”
*The woman looked beside me and nodded, simply turning around and performing the actions along with the rest of my team for the wealth transfer. As for them, it was obvious what happened to them when the black button was pressed.*
“I’ll give the world their revelation.”
|
"Jerry, you still need the welder or can I bring it down?"
"Nah, bring it down. 'Suppose it's good enough." A voice replied from the top of the tower. Randy unhitched the rope and the welder slowly started falling. They'd built the compound in record time, right on top of the huge steel doors. A thirty foot tower and sandbags lined in a circle, guns and ammunition stacked on top of each other sat around the encampment.
"You really think they're gonna come?" asked Jeff. Jeff was helping Randy shore up the base of the tower. He was Sheriff Wacos' son, a young lad, about twelve.
"I reckon they will. Lotta people hate the rich. But your dad's right, they didn't do anything wrong by being rich. And even if they did, the law's the law. They deserve their place in this world just as much as anyone else." The welder reached the bottom and Randy tied the rope. Jerry shouted from the roof,
"Sheriff! I see something! Right on the road coming from town!" Everyone turned to Sheriff Waco.
"They're comin. Everyone, to your post!"
| 2022-07-18T18:23:41 | 2022-07-18T18:09:46 | 33 | 19 |
[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.
|
There were exactly fifty five of these strange little things.
They were strung, line by line, in descending order.
Rows upon rows, each shorter than the last.
All honing in on some intangible topic.
I didn't know what they were.
And they rushed at me.
What were they called?
It was time.
I remembered.
Words.
| 2015-01-05T22:38:49 | 2015-01-05T22:11:05 | 1,258 | 74 |
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