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[WP]As the story unfolds, the reader turns out to be the villian | Two light bulbs, lit, on the floor lamp. One dripping like the lantern of an angler fish, one a bowl of light-a crown. They're hurting my eyes and I can barely see the figure in front of me. I'm either sleepy or asleep, either could be true but the latter would be preferable. I've never seen a gun before this, although from here it just looks like a reflection on a twisted metal fist. I'm woken up, brought to my study, made to write this "suicide note"-Christ. I wonder how long it will take until this cunt just shoots me right in the teeth. I pray to whatever gods I neglected in my lifetime that he or she can't read upside-down.
I do wonder who the hell the mysterious figure is. It's too dark to make out body shape, but I'm pretty sure there are no tits. Could be bound, bound tits. Are you transgender, my mysterious would-be murderer? Have you come to strangle me with your tit-wrap? Is that what they call it, maybe it's more of a tit-turban. Turban for your tits. Rich as I am, that concept would have made me richer for the offensive novelty alone. I'm sorry, killer to-be, if I have given offense one last time. The rest of it I'm not so sorry for.
What do they want? Vengeance, money? What do you want? I stand before you a poor old man, as full of grief as age. I read that once, my memory fails in the searching. Will you read this after I'm gone, o Releaser? Is that what you do, you murder the most interesting among us, just to see what we'll write in our last few moment of consciousness?
BLOODSTAIN
IN YOUR HANDWRITING, ONE WORD;
Yes. | I brushed away a satiny blonde lock of hair, that was trying desperately to entwine itself in the wand I'd set behind my ear and blinked my green gold-flecked eyes twice before raising my hand to pinch a cheek of my heart shaped face. There he stood out there across the river, cloaked in grey and mist.
Voldemort.
My nemesis, my enemy, dark wizard... and killer.
He had killed Xaxis my pet centaur yesterday and drained her blood.
In the distance, my beloved Harry and Ron were still fighting...
"She's mine!"
"No, she's mine!"
"She's mine!"
"No, she's mine!"
I would have to confront the Dark Lord myself. I turned to my truest companions, the half-giant Thrawp, the former dark wizard Daxiz, the house-elf Mendy and Dumbledore, that dear grand old sizard sho had thought me so much in the past 27 hours.
"I won't let you down," I said.
"We know you wont!" said Dumbeldore nodding his head up and down vigorously.
"Do you remember the Avada Re-Kevadra spell I thought you?"
"The secret forbidden spell that kills both living and undead? Yes, Dumbledore I do. I will kill Voldemort with it."
Something large wrapped its hand around me. Thrawp. "Thrawwp love Megan."
"I know you do, Thrawp," I mumbled, suddenly very teary.
And then I turned and fled across the grey ford, clutching the Cloak of True Invisibilty Godric Gryffindor had left behind for me. Somehow I just knew that bitch Hermione Granger was involved. I'd probaby have to face her too.
The gray figure across the river remained still awaiting our duel. An ending was approaching. He wouldnt know about the cloak, and that would be his undoing. I readied myself to put on the cloak and jump to the side, distracting him before finish him off with my forbidded secret spell. It was a simple strategy, but it would be effective.
Voldemort still did move. He stood grimly facing me, watching.
I shivered. His was the face of true evil... malevolent. He looked on you not as a person but as a thing with either some worth to him right now... or not. Like a creep, he creeped me out.
I felt my foot hit land and two things happened at once. I jumped to my right, yanking Godric's coat around me, and Voldemort well stood there.
"Die, dark lord scum, die," I said behind my cloak, firing off Avada Re-Kedrava.
Nothing happened.
Voldemort stood still, unmoved.
I approached the figure gingerly, beneath my cloak. Was the Dark Lord already dead?
I touched his unmoving still form, watching in horror as it collapsed into shadow and twilight twisted into form.
"What the-"
"Avada Kedrava"
A thin plume of crimson blood shot through me.
I turned around.
"A shadow," Voldemort whispered from behind me.
"But, how did you see though my Cloak. Its the most powerful magical artifact in this world,immune to spells, magic, true sight..." I trailed off. I was beginning to feel cold. The world was slipping away.
"It makes me special here!"
"Who could see through this?"
Voldemort flushed crimson looking upwards, before bashfully lowering his head, "Ugh... no telling. People... just people."
"People," I said, "...figures. They always make fun of me. I deserve to die, don't I? Stupid silly writer and all."
And then the world went dark, that beautiful deep night-time dark of the sky after the rain, something that always moves my soul though I'm probably describing it poorly. Anyway it's that black as I die.
And that's my adventures done. |
|
[WP]As the story unfolds, the reader turns out to be the villian | I haven't slept. My body weakens day by day, and I waste away, but still I dare not sleep, for fear of what might happen. The doctor's say it's an illness of the mind, a phantom of the psyche. Oh it's a phantom alright, and it is in my head, but it's real.
At first, I thought it was just the creaking of the old house. The worn floorboards, the branches scraping against the brick and mortar. Shadows cast through the window that my mind distorted into terrible shapes. But it was more. I was being watched, listened to, my brain's very thoughts dissected.
*Hello* I would scream into the empty house, and be answered only by an echo, as if mocking my sanity. I know you're there. I'm not insane. It's not the house, nor is it the solitude. I wish there was solitude, for I'm not alone, never alone. Whoever you are, peering at me from afar, get out. GET OUT. GET OUT. You invade my soul, my very essence of being, taking my innermost thoughts and cutting them up into easily digestible pieces.
Why? To feel something from my pain? Monster. Get out....
You must be able to see me, hear me. For what other reason would you derive so much pleasure from seeing me writhe and suffer.
Go away. I beg you. Yes, you. Please, just stop. I'm so tired... | It was at 06:13 when the snow began to melt. It had been here for months, but now the slow flow of water through the streets heralded the beginning of spring. It came later than expected.
It was at 07:12 when the jogger went on their run. They had made the same run for the last three years, and their figure had definitely improved for all their effort. But whether they weighed 300kg or 30kg, what they saw this morning still made them spill bile onto the pavement.
It was at 08:27 when the police finally arrived. Why they had taken so long was anyone's guess; perhaps they didn't take the call all that seriously. It did not take them long to cordon off the area, and do a thorough investigation of their newly erected crime scene.
By 09:45 the body was taken away. The dental records would prove useful, but he had been dead for too long for the rest of him to be of much help other than the knife embedded in his chest. At least, that was to be assumed: who knows what they can do with forensic technology now-a-days. Either way, their job was made difficult by the months that it had lain unassuming in that pile of snow, undisturbed. What was certain was they would discover his name. Then they would discover he was supposed to have been abroad, and so was not reported missing.
Five days later, at 13:03, they came knocking for the owner of the knife. They would discover that it had been missing from its owner for the past few months. They would discover that she had been the last person in contact with the deceased. They would discover from the neighbours that it had been a fight, contrary to the wary testimony of the accused. At 16:56, she was taken into custody, and driven away to a fate unknown.
You watched from your window as these events unfolded. You watched and you smiled. |
|
[WP]As the story unfolds, the reader turns out to be the villian | *Della walked home today. Her mum forgot her again. Her mum Alice was married to her job. She rounded the corner and saw a car parked there.*
*The man sitting in it was her teacher Mr Rawlings. He was her favorite teacher. He never gave her homework. And he always had a special gift for her. He was like a father to her. Mr Rawlings saw Della "Did your mum forget you again?" Della had ha this conversation with him before. "Yeah. She is always so busy with her job" Mr Rawlings told her to hop in and he would give her a lift home.*
*As he drove past her street Della started to worry "That's my street sir" Mr Rawlings told her not to worry. He was going to take her for ice cream. Della believed him until they hit the outskirts of town. She didn't even know where she was anymore. "Where are we going sir?"she asked, she was getting scared now. Mr Rawlings pulled the car over and without a word smacked face. Her eyes welled up with tears. "Don't you even think about crying." His voice was sinister. He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door and ordered her out.*
*She did as she was told, afraid for what might happen. She shakily unbuckled the seat belt and was pulled out of the car and onto the ground. Rawlings bound her hands and feet and put a pillowcase over her head. He picked her up and shoved her into the back of the car, got in and kept driving. He knew he had a couple of hours to drive, her workaholic mum wouldn't even know she was missing until she got home at nearly midnight.*
Anthony Rawlings finished the chapter and slammed the book shut with a thud. He already knew what happened next. He had lived it. He had been hiding in England for 6 years now. Noone knew who he was or what he had done. He didn't speak to anyone for fear of being caught and yet here was an account of the crime he had committed in great detail. He had to know, was it a coincidence that the author of the book wrote this story? Or was there a witness that day?
☆ This is the first time I've ever written anything on WP I usually keep all my stories to myself. Sorry for poor skills XD ☆
| "My last words to my world.
I do not write this letter in my blood, for I have not bled enough. I would have if I could have, even though I always keep a perfectly functional ballpoint pen on me. Blood fits last words with a macabre sincerity.
This factory, though, does not fit my end. I am sure it is a place of Death - circumstances show I can't be the first to last draw breath here - but I always figured I'd die out there, in the sun or rain. I was born outside after all, my mother had been too lazy to be bothered to drive to a hospital. My welcome to this world was a faceful of sand and the early afternoon beating sun.
Ideally, I simply wouldn't have died. It apparently wasn't my destiny, as evidenced by the giant bear trap's spikes puncturing my thighs.
Anyway, I want my last words to be to you.
To the man who killed me, in ink spread on my skin:
Go to Hell." |
|
[WP]As the story unfolds, the reader turns out to be the villian | I haven't slept. My body weakens day by day, and I waste away, but still I dare not sleep, for fear of what might happen. The doctor's say it's an illness of the mind, a phantom of the psyche. Oh it's a phantom alright, and it is in my head, but it's real.
At first, I thought it was just the creaking of the old house. The worn floorboards, the branches scraping against the brick and mortar. Shadows cast through the window that my mind distorted into terrible shapes. But it was more. I was being watched, listened to, my brain's very thoughts dissected.
*Hello* I would scream into the empty house, and be answered only by an echo, as if mocking my sanity. I know you're there. I'm not insane. It's not the house, nor is it the solitude. I wish there was solitude, for I'm not alone, never alone. Whoever you are, peering at me from afar, get out. GET OUT. GET OUT. You invade my soul, my very essence of being, taking my innermost thoughts and cutting them up into easily digestible pieces.
Why? To feel something from my pain? Monster. Get out....
You must be able to see me, hear me. For what other reason would you derive so much pleasure from seeing me writhe and suffer.
Go away. I beg you. Yes, you. Please, just stop. I'm so tired... | "My last words to my world.
I do not write this letter in my blood, for I have not bled enough. I would have if I could have, even though I always keep a perfectly functional ballpoint pen on me. Blood fits last words with a macabre sincerity.
This factory, though, does not fit my end. I am sure it is a place of Death - circumstances show I can't be the first to last draw breath here - but I always figured I'd die out there, in the sun or rain. I was born outside after all, my mother had been too lazy to be bothered to drive to a hospital. My welcome to this world was a faceful of sand and the early afternoon beating sun.
Ideally, I simply wouldn't have died. It apparently wasn't my destiny, as evidenced by the giant bear trap's spikes puncturing my thighs.
Anyway, I want my last words to be to you.
To the man who killed me, in ink spread on my skin:
Go to Hell." |
|
[WP]As the story unfolds, the reader turns out to be the villian | I haven't slept. My body weakens day by day, and I waste away, but still I dare not sleep, for fear of what might happen. The doctor's say it's an illness of the mind, a phantom of the psyche. Oh it's a phantom alright, and it is in my head, but it's real.
At first, I thought it was just the creaking of the old house. The worn floorboards, the branches scraping against the brick and mortar. Shadows cast through the window that my mind distorted into terrible shapes. But it was more. I was being watched, listened to, my brain's very thoughts dissected.
*Hello* I would scream into the empty house, and be answered only by an echo, as if mocking my sanity. I know you're there. I'm not insane. It's not the house, nor is it the solitude. I wish there was solitude, for I'm not alone, never alone. Whoever you are, peering at me from afar, get out. GET OUT. GET OUT. You invade my soul, my very essence of being, taking my innermost thoughts and cutting them up into easily digestible pieces.
Why? To feel something from my pain? Monster. Get out....
You must be able to see me, hear me. For what other reason would you derive so much pleasure from seeing me writhe and suffer.
Go away. I beg you. Yes, you. Please, just stop. I'm so tired... | *Della walked home today. Her mum forgot her again. Her mum Alice was married to her job. She rounded the corner and saw a car parked there.*
*The man sitting in it was her teacher Mr Rawlings. He was her favorite teacher. He never gave her homework. And he always had a special gift for her. He was like a father to her. Mr Rawlings saw Della "Did your mum forget you again?" Della had ha this conversation with him before. "Yeah. She is always so busy with her job" Mr Rawlings told her to hop in and he would give her a lift home.*
*As he drove past her street Della started to worry "That's my street sir" Mr Rawlings told her not to worry. He was going to take her for ice cream. Della believed him until they hit the outskirts of town. She didn't even know where she was anymore. "Where are we going sir?"she asked, she was getting scared now. Mr Rawlings pulled the car over and without a word smacked face. Her eyes welled up with tears. "Don't you even think about crying." His voice was sinister. He got out of the car, walked around and opened her door and ordered her out.*
*She did as she was told, afraid for what might happen. She shakily unbuckled the seat belt and was pulled out of the car and onto the ground. Rawlings bound her hands and feet and put a pillowcase over her head. He picked her up and shoved her into the back of the car, got in and kept driving. He knew he had a couple of hours to drive, her workaholic mum wouldn't even know she was missing until she got home at nearly midnight.*
Anthony Rawlings finished the chapter and slammed the book shut with a thud. He already knew what happened next. He had lived it. He had been hiding in England for 6 years now. Noone knew who he was or what he had done. He didn't speak to anyone for fear of being caught and yet here was an account of the crime he had committed in great detail. He had to know, was it a coincidence that the author of the book wrote this story? Or was there a witness that day?
☆ This is the first time I've ever written anything on WP I usually keep all my stories to myself. Sorry for poor skills XD ☆
|
|
[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | The eight versions sat at a large rectangular wooden table. They were arranged from youngest to oldest, four on each side. The room was filled with deafening silence. Every one of them sat there glaring over their left shoulder at the past, and recoiling from the piercing gaze of the future. | "How many times has he done this now?" It's a question I always asked, I don't know why but I always ask it. Ever since this crazy damn technology was created this one guy has always shown up on a near monthly basis.
"I think this is the 12th time. We have to cut him off after this otherwise it's really going to screw up his timeline. his brain will literally turn to mush." But Berry wasn't concerned, my "co-pilot", this was just a 9-5 to him. He was good at what he did though. Able to pick the best prevs, quick to implant the change, then wipe the precise memories of the session. However at session 12 with this guy...even Berry was starting to have doubts he could maintain this guys timeline. Thank god he wasn't anyone important.
"Alright file number 5632-A." Berry read from the chart, "subject name: Ctrlspeak" Berry sighed as he read out the name, he held his hand over the mic and leaned to me "These old fools and their reddit names. I really wish that damn site never existed." "lets just get on with it" I said.
Ctrlspeak sat down in chair 10. Automatically the Time Rings began to circle around him. Berry pulled up Ctrlspeak's Timeline on his console to find 9 pervious versions of this guy. Ones that would directly effect whatever he wanted changed in his life. "Got 'em" said Berry "engage the paradox shields, I have a feeling this one might get a bit messy." Thank the maker for Paradox shields. especially after all the sessions this redditor has gone through. We usually have a rough idea of the topic of discussion and we knew that whatever the outcome would be in the previous timelines that it would instantly change Ctrlspeaks 10th version of himself. The shields would prevent anything from happening outside of the session circle. Don't ask me how it works, I just work here. I just know it does because I'm not some butterfly-lizardman hybrid right now.
Within the circle Ctrlspeaks previous versions began to phase into our time. The youngest being him at 14, the oldest 55. the rest were various ages in between. Berry leaned into the mic "ok sir, we're ready when you are." Ctrlspeak nodded towards us in acknowledgement. He looked at his previous versions, who were in a calm state thanks to our time-calm tech, and said "I really don't like the name Ctrlspeak, but our Karma is just too high to start a new account. what should we do?" Berry looked at me. "He paid 1.4million to change his Reddit name?" I replied "well his karma is pretty high." |
|
[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They all stared at him. Was it because he was the youngest one? Was it because they were all short?
"You're all gonna tell me to drink milk, aren't you! Because I never get taller! I won't do it! I don't care if I'm short forever!"
They didn't say anything.
"Well if that's not it, what is it with you guys!?
The next oldest one put a hand on his shoulder. It was fake. Would he loose his hand in the future?
"Listen," he said, "When mom dies, leave her be. There's nothing you can give in exchange for a human life."
| "How many times has he done this now?" It's a question I always asked, I don't know why but I always ask it. Ever since this crazy damn technology was created this one guy has always shown up on a near monthly basis.
"I think this is the 12th time. We have to cut him off after this otherwise it's really going to screw up his timeline. his brain will literally turn to mush." But Berry wasn't concerned, my "co-pilot", this was just a 9-5 to him. He was good at what he did though. Able to pick the best prevs, quick to implant the change, then wipe the precise memories of the session. However at session 12 with this guy...even Berry was starting to have doubts he could maintain this guys timeline. Thank god he wasn't anyone important.
"Alright file number 5632-A." Berry read from the chart, "subject name: Ctrlspeak" Berry sighed as he read out the name, he held his hand over the mic and leaned to me "These old fools and their reddit names. I really wish that damn site never existed." "lets just get on with it" I said.
Ctrlspeak sat down in chair 10. Automatically the Time Rings began to circle around him. Berry pulled up Ctrlspeak's Timeline on his console to find 9 pervious versions of this guy. Ones that would directly effect whatever he wanted changed in his life. "Got 'em" said Berry "engage the paradox shields, I have a feeling this one might get a bit messy." Thank the maker for Paradox shields. especially after all the sessions this redditor has gone through. We usually have a rough idea of the topic of discussion and we knew that whatever the outcome would be in the previous timelines that it would instantly change Ctrlspeaks 10th version of himself. The shields would prevent anything from happening outside of the session circle. Don't ask me how it works, I just work here. I just know it does because I'm not some butterfly-lizardman hybrid right now.
Within the circle Ctrlspeaks previous versions began to phase into our time. The youngest being him at 14, the oldest 55. the rest were various ages in between. Berry leaned into the mic "ok sir, we're ready when you are." Ctrlspeak nodded towards us in acknowledgement. He looked at his previous versions, who were in a calm state thanks to our time-calm tech, and said "I really don't like the name Ctrlspeak, but our Karma is just too high to start a new account. what should we do?" Berry looked at me. "He paid 1.4million to change his Reddit name?" I replied "well his karma is pretty high." |
|
[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | The infant appeared first. A chubby baby, his black hair was just beginning to come in, and I slid my hand over it as I picked him up to rock him. The skinny husky had managed to follow him, and began growling deep in his throat as he looked up at me. I rocked the sleeping babe in my arms and knelt down next to the husky. I extended my left hand out to him, leaving it half-a-foot in front of his pink nose.
“It’s me, Perseus. It’s been so long… It’s good to see you.” I said, unsure if I should smile or cry. He took a step toward me, then lifted his head to mine and started licking my face. I laughed and threw my left arm over him, careful to keep the baby steady in the crook of my right arm.
“I don’t believe this.” A shaky baritone said, coming over my right shoulder. I turned, and saw myself walking forward. His face was more scraggly - a side-effect of still experimenting with the facial hair. He was holding out for the demilitarized zone separating his moustache from the rest of his beard to break down, but he was starting to lose faith in ever having a full beard. We wore nearly the same shirt, a pair of blue jeans that sat a little bit looser on his waist, and a pair of converse.
“Welcome.” I said to him, standing and looking pointedly at the baby. I shifted the infant onto my left side, and extended my right hand out to the newcomer. “May not get a chance to do this again. I’m 22.” He took my hand and shook it, a firm hand grasping mine. At my words, his smile fell, and his eyebrows lifted up.
“You mean...we don’t make it to 23?”
“No.” I said, shaking my head. “I just mean I’m 22. I remember you, 21. And this guy here,” I looked back to the babe, “is 0? Maybe 1? Just a babe, to be sure. I don’t know how, but he managed to bring Perseus with him.” At his name, the husky came trotting around me, and 21 fell to his knees, wrapping the dog in his arms, oblivious to the whip-cracks Percy’s tails were making against the floor.
“Daddy?” A small voice called, and I turned to find 3 walking up to me. Just a small thing, old enough to walk and talk. Could he read? I wasn’t sure, but he absolutely contained the same innocence that 1 did.
“No, boy. I’m close, though. Give me a minute, and I’ll explain when you’re - when the others are here.” No sooner had I spoken then 12 and 14 came running up. 12 was sobbing, and ignored everyone as he ran to Perseus. 21 stood up and walked over to me, weighing 12 with his stare.
“Did you pull him from October?” He asked. I nodded, the motion turning my neck into a bobblehead. Subconsciously, 21 took up the motion. “A chance to say goodbye proper?”
“You gotta remember I didn’t know Percy would be here. I suppose with all the talk about being a Guardian, I should have expected it, but…” I trailed off.
“Are you two twins?” 3 asked, tugging on my hand. I looked down at him and smiled, but didn’t answer him. I looked up at 14, who was standing off by his own, staring down at 12 and Perseus. His fists were clenched and he kept blinking his eyes and taking deep, shaky breaths. I turned away, and 21 said hello to 6, who had come running up.
“Hey!” 6 said, looking at 3, “You look a lot like me! Are you my little brother?”
“Nuh-uh!” 3 said, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m an only child!”
“Oh, well do you wanna play tag?” 6 asked, pushing his new glasses up the bridge of his nose. With a nod, 3 pushed on 6 and took off running into the featureless distance.
“Do you know what I’m looking for, 21?” I asked, placing my free hand on the babe’s back and tapping gently. When he didn’t reply, I turned to look at him, but he’d walked away. Perseus was on the floor, his belly up in the air, his belly being rubbed by 12 and the newcomer 18. I kept looking for 21, and found him hugging 14. I quietly walked over, and nodded to 16 as he came to walk beside me.
“What is this?” 16 asked, he looked askance at me, then continued asking questions. “Is this - did I travel time? I remember looking like that…” He said, pointing at 14, who had begun sobbing onto 21’s shoulder. The babe in my arm started to stir, and I rhythmically patted his back. “And over there...No, is that Perseus?”
“It is,” I said, “And this is...something like time travel. It’s all very intricate math and meditation stuff. As for what it is, I hope it’s an answer.” He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in my best questioning stare, but I kept silent as we came up to the crying 14 and 21. I heard panting, and turned to see Perseus running up to 14, 12 and 18 trotting at Percy’s heels. 12’s cheeks were wet, but he was smiling. I pulled him aside.
“I’m glad I could give you a chance to show him how much you loved him. I’ll give you another moment when we’re done, but it’s all I can do. I can’t...this place...You’ll take with you the knowledge and the experience, but the pain will still be fresh. Focus on the good memories, okay? They make the emptiness a little less hollow.” He nodded, but he was staring at 14, who was now bawling into Percy’s flank, 14’s arms wrapped around the dog’s neck. Perseus, for his part, was licking at the tears, soaking up all the salt he could get.
“Will it still hurt that much, years from now?” 12 asked, his voice a soft terror beside me.
“No.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “14, well, it’s a rough birthday, and a rough start to high school. The choices in front of you - I’ve had 8 years to look over them, and there’s no winning. You’ll get through it though, and look at how strong you are at 16! You can drive, you know a ton of kung-fu, and well… Junior year’s good to you.” I knelt down, gesturing for him to take a knee as well. His gold-specked eyes locked on mine, and he waited. Had I ever been that patient at 12?
“You need to know. You’re going to be hurt, time and again. Your heart is going to be stomped on, torn out, and pissed on.” He wrinkled his nose at that. “By 18, you’ll think that you’ve experienced every possible way your heart can be hurt, and you’re going to get a really stupid thought into your head.” I said. These words were getting harder to say, staring into those eyes of mine on that young, innocent face.
“You’re going to decide that if you don’t let people in, you’re invincible. If you don’t share, people can’t take advantage. If you don’t trust, you won’t be let down.” As I spoke the words, I felt a presence pushing at the realm, and I laughed as I opened the mental door. Thumper came prancing into the mindscape, and at the site of the large red-and-white furred dog, 3 and 6 ceased playing tag and came running over. Thumper threw his hip against me, his haunches coming up to my belly button as I braced my knee against the ground. I took my hand off 12’s shoulder and absently petted Thumper’s back as the kids came running up to him. 21 looked up, and at the site of Thumper his eyes went wide, and I laughed, remembering the pup that had fit in my hand that first week.
“The thing is 12, we’re going to make a lot of stupid mistakes. We’re going to get hurt, time and time again.” Thumper whined as Percy came over, and I trailed off as the two took stock of each other. Perseus looked him over, then looked to me, and his mouth dropped open into a lolling doggy grin. Thumper lurched forward and nipped at Percy’s front leg, and the two took off running and barking at one another.
“The world’s going to hurt us,” I began again, staring off at the pups playing and rubbing the infant’s back as he settled back into sleep. “But that’s okay. You and me? We’re tough guys. We’ll take the pain and remember it, but we’ll focus on moments like these, okay? We’ll take the bad with the good, and let the bad settle on the bottom of our memories - there, but buried under our happiness. Can you agree to that?”
12 stared at Perseus, running and fighting with Thumper, tears moving down his face again. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and we both turned to see 14 smiling down at him. 14 locked eyes with 12 and nodded. 12 turned back to me, gold-specked eyes glittering through tears.
“Deal.” He said, nodding once.
| "How many times has he done this now?" It's a question I always asked, I don't know why but I always ask it. Ever since this crazy damn technology was created this one guy has always shown up on a near monthly basis.
"I think this is the 12th time. We have to cut him off after this otherwise it's really going to screw up his timeline. his brain will literally turn to mush." But Berry wasn't concerned, my "co-pilot", this was just a 9-5 to him. He was good at what he did though. Able to pick the best prevs, quick to implant the change, then wipe the precise memories of the session. However at session 12 with this guy...even Berry was starting to have doubts he could maintain this guys timeline. Thank god he wasn't anyone important.
"Alright file number 5632-A." Berry read from the chart, "subject name: Ctrlspeak" Berry sighed as he read out the name, he held his hand over the mic and leaned to me "These old fools and their reddit names. I really wish that damn site never existed." "lets just get on with it" I said.
Ctrlspeak sat down in chair 10. Automatically the Time Rings began to circle around him. Berry pulled up Ctrlspeak's Timeline on his console to find 9 pervious versions of this guy. Ones that would directly effect whatever he wanted changed in his life. "Got 'em" said Berry "engage the paradox shields, I have a feeling this one might get a bit messy." Thank the maker for Paradox shields. especially after all the sessions this redditor has gone through. We usually have a rough idea of the topic of discussion and we knew that whatever the outcome would be in the previous timelines that it would instantly change Ctrlspeaks 10th version of himself. The shields would prevent anything from happening outside of the session circle. Don't ask me how it works, I just work here. I just know it does because I'm not some butterfly-lizardman hybrid right now.
Within the circle Ctrlspeaks previous versions began to phase into our time. The youngest being him at 14, the oldest 55. the rest were various ages in between. Berry leaned into the mic "ok sir, we're ready when you are." Ctrlspeak nodded towards us in acknowledgement. He looked at his previous versions, who were in a calm state thanks to our time-calm tech, and said "I really don't like the name Ctrlspeak, but our Karma is just too high to start a new account. what should we do?" Berry looked at me. "He paid 1.4million to change his Reddit name?" I replied "well his karma is pretty high." |
|
[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They stared quietly at 21.
She looked at the floor. She didn't want 4, 10, 14 or 18 to see their future, nor 32, 46, 55 and 74 to see their past. To see the bruises. The black eye.
What went wrong? Ha. She was what had gone wrong.
"21?" said a gentle voice, tempered by age and experience. "21, look at me."
It was 74. She had long silver hair. The tattoos on her arms had become warped and faded. Now they looked like the vines of a great tree that wrapped around her whole body. 21 took her eyes off her own arms, bare of any mark but the cigarette burns, and faced the woman she would one day become.
"Dear, the topic of this meeting is how to fix it," 74 said, calmly. 21's older selves shared a furtive glance. "You need not fear us. We know what has happened. Moreover, we know what will happen. We knew this time would come, for we are all the woman who sat in your place so many years ago. Now, why don't you discuss some lovely times from the past with your younger selves? We have some business to attend too."
21 watched as her older selves arose from their chairs. 32 had a claw hammer. 46 carried plastic sheeting. 55 carried a shovel.
74 carried nothing. No weapon, no tool to clean up the mess afterward. Yet she wore her confidence like a cloak. She wrapped herself in certainty and did not hesitate for a moment as she stepped through the portal that 21 had come from.
The man who had been screaming "you bitch you better get back here and take what you fucking deserve" stopped shouting for a moment when 74 walked in. When 32 walked in there was a dull thud, like a meat tenderizer finding its mark.
Then there were no more sounds but the rustling of 46's plastic sheeting, and the bite of 55's shovel into the earth. | "How many times has he done this now?" It's a question I always asked, I don't know why but I always ask it. Ever since this crazy damn technology was created this one guy has always shown up on a near monthly basis.
"I think this is the 12th time. We have to cut him off after this otherwise it's really going to screw up his timeline. his brain will literally turn to mush." But Berry wasn't concerned, my "co-pilot", this was just a 9-5 to him. He was good at what he did though. Able to pick the best prevs, quick to implant the change, then wipe the precise memories of the session. However at session 12 with this guy...even Berry was starting to have doubts he could maintain this guys timeline. Thank god he wasn't anyone important.
"Alright file number 5632-A." Berry read from the chart, "subject name: Ctrlspeak" Berry sighed as he read out the name, he held his hand over the mic and leaned to me "These old fools and their reddit names. I really wish that damn site never existed." "lets just get on with it" I said.
Ctrlspeak sat down in chair 10. Automatically the Time Rings began to circle around him. Berry pulled up Ctrlspeak's Timeline on his console to find 9 pervious versions of this guy. Ones that would directly effect whatever he wanted changed in his life. "Got 'em" said Berry "engage the paradox shields, I have a feeling this one might get a bit messy." Thank the maker for Paradox shields. especially after all the sessions this redditor has gone through. We usually have a rough idea of the topic of discussion and we knew that whatever the outcome would be in the previous timelines that it would instantly change Ctrlspeaks 10th version of himself. The shields would prevent anything from happening outside of the session circle. Don't ask me how it works, I just work here. I just know it does because I'm not some butterfly-lizardman hybrid right now.
Within the circle Ctrlspeaks previous versions began to phase into our time. The youngest being him at 14, the oldest 55. the rest were various ages in between. Berry leaned into the mic "ok sir, we're ready when you are." Ctrlspeak nodded towards us in acknowledgement. He looked at his previous versions, who were in a calm state thanks to our time-calm tech, and said "I really don't like the name Ctrlspeak, but our Karma is just too high to start a new account. what should we do?" Berry looked at me. "He paid 1.4million to change his Reddit name?" I replied "well his karma is pretty high." |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They all stared at him. Was it because he was the youngest one? Was it because they were all short?
"You're all gonna tell me to drink milk, aren't you! Because I never get taller! I won't do it! I don't care if I'm short forever!"
They didn't say anything.
"Well if that's not it, what is it with you guys!?
The next oldest one put a hand on his shoulder. It was fake. Would he loose his hand in the future?
"Listen," he said, "When mom dies, leave her be. There's nothing you can give in exchange for a human life."
| A new invention had swept over the world, a big product made by Apple called the iSelf. It allowed one to communicate with past and future selves. One time use only, and it cost a lot of money. It was spouted as a fantastical product.
public_compliance had been given one for study purposes. She had signed up to participate in a university study on the affects of this product and was pleased she didn't have to pay anything for using the product.
Her meeting began on a Thursday.
The first one to enter the conference room was 8 years old. Dressed in a jumper with long blonde braids and ribbons in her hair, her small fingers trailed across the wall as she walked around the room carefully picking a chair at the table. Her eyes were cold and she wasn't smiling.
The next one to enter was 13, her shirt sleeves pulled down covering her hands. She sat next to the 8 year old and put her head down on the table. Hood pulled up over her blue hair, her chest heaved and she slightly shook against the table, her leg bouncing up and down continuously.
A couple minutes later the 22 year old crept in. Wearing pj bottoms and a dirty tee shirt. Pink fading in her blonde hair. Avoiding eye contact with the other two she sat as far away from them as possible.
The three of them sat in silence for half an hour. Sitting uncomfortably in the metal chairs. The 8 year old started to get fidgety by the time the door opened and a 24 year old walked in, looking haggard and dressed in hospital blues. She sat at the head of the table and gave a heavy sigh.
Silence fell upon the room for what felt like forever but was merely seconds. The eight year old began fidgeting more in her chair, clearly becoming antsy.
"Where did we go wrong?" The 22 year old looked at her future self. Her gaze falling upon the hospital bracelet she was wearing.
"Mum came and made me start practicing the violin, she interrupted me!" The 8 year old bursted out clearly unable to maintain sitting still anymore.
"It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough," 13 year old repeated herself rocking back and forth. She shook her head slowly dejected. "And now I have a 3 year old sister to look out for, I'm scared to leave her alone," her voice shook as she drummed her fingers on the table.
Then there was silence. The three individuals looked at the disheveled 22 year old. Waiting expectantly for her answer.
She shrugged her shoulders and leaned forward onto the table. Placing her hands face down on the table she exposed her heavily scarred left arm, and right hand in a brace. "Look you two," She looks at her younger selves and takes a deep breath "In the span of one year, we're laid off, mum get's diagnosed with cancer, we get raped, we drop out of university, mum dies, our friends stop talking to us and one of our cats goes missing. I didn't *mean* to fail. But I clearly didn't learn from last time. As it wasn't enough. Again." She looked down at her hands and took in a gulp of breath having rushed through her spiel.
The 24 year old cleared her throat. She looked at her younger selves with pity. "The medication worked once I saw a better psychiatrist who knew what he was doing." She shifted in her chair and continued, "I wouldn't have failed except that my neighbour found me. I won't fail again." She stood up quickly, her chair falling over onto the floor and briskly walks out of the room.
The three selves remain seated in the room. Waiting for the 5 other future versions to arrive. Dusk settled on the room after a few hours passed, the 8 year old having already left the room out of child-like impatience. The 13 year old and the 22 year old began giving each other uncomfortable glances as realization fell upon them, that no one else would be coming. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | The infant appeared first. A chubby baby, his black hair was just beginning to come in, and I slid my hand over it as I picked him up to rock him. The skinny husky had managed to follow him, and began growling deep in his throat as he looked up at me. I rocked the sleeping babe in my arms and knelt down next to the husky. I extended my left hand out to him, leaving it half-a-foot in front of his pink nose.
“It’s me, Perseus. It’s been so long… It’s good to see you.” I said, unsure if I should smile or cry. He took a step toward me, then lifted his head to mine and started licking my face. I laughed and threw my left arm over him, careful to keep the baby steady in the crook of my right arm.
“I don’t believe this.” A shaky baritone said, coming over my right shoulder. I turned, and saw myself walking forward. His face was more scraggly - a side-effect of still experimenting with the facial hair. He was holding out for the demilitarized zone separating his moustache from the rest of his beard to break down, but he was starting to lose faith in ever having a full beard. We wore nearly the same shirt, a pair of blue jeans that sat a little bit looser on his waist, and a pair of converse.
“Welcome.” I said to him, standing and looking pointedly at the baby. I shifted the infant onto my left side, and extended my right hand out to the newcomer. “May not get a chance to do this again. I’m 22.” He took my hand and shook it, a firm hand grasping mine. At my words, his smile fell, and his eyebrows lifted up.
“You mean...we don’t make it to 23?”
“No.” I said, shaking my head. “I just mean I’m 22. I remember you, 21. And this guy here,” I looked back to the babe, “is 0? Maybe 1? Just a babe, to be sure. I don’t know how, but he managed to bring Perseus with him.” At his name, the husky came trotting around me, and 21 fell to his knees, wrapping the dog in his arms, oblivious to the whip-cracks Percy’s tails were making against the floor.
“Daddy?” A small voice called, and I turned to find 3 walking up to me. Just a small thing, old enough to walk and talk. Could he read? I wasn’t sure, but he absolutely contained the same innocence that 1 did.
“No, boy. I’m close, though. Give me a minute, and I’ll explain when you’re - when the others are here.” No sooner had I spoken then 12 and 14 came running up. 12 was sobbing, and ignored everyone as he ran to Perseus. 21 stood up and walked over to me, weighing 12 with his stare.
“Did you pull him from October?” He asked. I nodded, the motion turning my neck into a bobblehead. Subconsciously, 21 took up the motion. “A chance to say goodbye proper?”
“You gotta remember I didn’t know Percy would be here. I suppose with all the talk about being a Guardian, I should have expected it, but…” I trailed off.
“Are you two twins?” 3 asked, tugging on my hand. I looked down at him and smiled, but didn’t answer him. I looked up at 14, who was standing off by his own, staring down at 12 and Perseus. His fists were clenched and he kept blinking his eyes and taking deep, shaky breaths. I turned away, and 21 said hello to 6, who had come running up.
“Hey!” 6 said, looking at 3, “You look a lot like me! Are you my little brother?”
“Nuh-uh!” 3 said, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m an only child!”
“Oh, well do you wanna play tag?” 6 asked, pushing his new glasses up the bridge of his nose. With a nod, 3 pushed on 6 and took off running into the featureless distance.
“Do you know what I’m looking for, 21?” I asked, placing my free hand on the babe’s back and tapping gently. When he didn’t reply, I turned to look at him, but he’d walked away. Perseus was on the floor, his belly up in the air, his belly being rubbed by 12 and the newcomer 18. I kept looking for 21, and found him hugging 14. I quietly walked over, and nodded to 16 as he came to walk beside me.
“What is this?” 16 asked, he looked askance at me, then continued asking questions. “Is this - did I travel time? I remember looking like that…” He said, pointing at 14, who had begun sobbing onto 21’s shoulder. The babe in my arm started to stir, and I rhythmically patted his back. “And over there...No, is that Perseus?”
“It is,” I said, “And this is...something like time travel. It’s all very intricate math and meditation stuff. As for what it is, I hope it’s an answer.” He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in my best questioning stare, but I kept silent as we came up to the crying 14 and 21. I heard panting, and turned to see Perseus running up to 14, 12 and 18 trotting at Percy’s heels. 12’s cheeks were wet, but he was smiling. I pulled him aside.
“I’m glad I could give you a chance to show him how much you loved him. I’ll give you another moment when we’re done, but it’s all I can do. I can’t...this place...You’ll take with you the knowledge and the experience, but the pain will still be fresh. Focus on the good memories, okay? They make the emptiness a little less hollow.” He nodded, but he was staring at 14, who was now bawling into Percy’s flank, 14’s arms wrapped around the dog’s neck. Perseus, for his part, was licking at the tears, soaking up all the salt he could get.
“Will it still hurt that much, years from now?” 12 asked, his voice a soft terror beside me.
“No.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “14, well, it’s a rough birthday, and a rough start to high school. The choices in front of you - I’ve had 8 years to look over them, and there’s no winning. You’ll get through it though, and look at how strong you are at 16! You can drive, you know a ton of kung-fu, and well… Junior year’s good to you.” I knelt down, gesturing for him to take a knee as well. His gold-specked eyes locked on mine, and he waited. Had I ever been that patient at 12?
“You need to know. You’re going to be hurt, time and again. Your heart is going to be stomped on, torn out, and pissed on.” He wrinkled his nose at that. “By 18, you’ll think that you’ve experienced every possible way your heart can be hurt, and you’re going to get a really stupid thought into your head.” I said. These words were getting harder to say, staring into those eyes of mine on that young, innocent face.
“You’re going to decide that if you don’t let people in, you’re invincible. If you don’t share, people can’t take advantage. If you don’t trust, you won’t be let down.” As I spoke the words, I felt a presence pushing at the realm, and I laughed as I opened the mental door. Thumper came prancing into the mindscape, and at the site of the large red-and-white furred dog, 3 and 6 ceased playing tag and came running over. Thumper threw his hip against me, his haunches coming up to my belly button as I braced my knee against the ground. I took my hand off 12’s shoulder and absently petted Thumper’s back as the kids came running up to him. 21 looked up, and at the site of Thumper his eyes went wide, and I laughed, remembering the pup that had fit in my hand that first week.
“The thing is 12, we’re going to make a lot of stupid mistakes. We’re going to get hurt, time and time again.” Thumper whined as Percy came over, and I trailed off as the two took stock of each other. Perseus looked him over, then looked to me, and his mouth dropped open into a lolling doggy grin. Thumper lurched forward and nipped at Percy’s front leg, and the two took off running and barking at one another.
“The world’s going to hurt us,” I began again, staring off at the pups playing and rubbing the infant’s back as he settled back into sleep. “But that’s okay. You and me? We’re tough guys. We’ll take the pain and remember it, but we’ll focus on moments like these, okay? We’ll take the bad with the good, and let the bad settle on the bottom of our memories - there, but buried under our happiness. Can you agree to that?”
12 stared at Perseus, running and fighting with Thumper, tears moving down his face again. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and we both turned to see 14 smiling down at him. 14 locked eyes with 12 and nodded. 12 turned back to me, gold-specked eyes glittering through tears.
“Deal.” He said, nodding once.
| A new invention had swept over the world, a big product made by Apple called the iSelf. It allowed one to communicate with past and future selves. One time use only, and it cost a lot of money. It was spouted as a fantastical product.
public_compliance had been given one for study purposes. She had signed up to participate in a university study on the affects of this product and was pleased she didn't have to pay anything for using the product.
Her meeting began on a Thursday.
The first one to enter the conference room was 8 years old. Dressed in a jumper with long blonde braids and ribbons in her hair, her small fingers trailed across the wall as she walked around the room carefully picking a chair at the table. Her eyes were cold and she wasn't smiling.
The next one to enter was 13, her shirt sleeves pulled down covering her hands. She sat next to the 8 year old and put her head down on the table. Hood pulled up over her blue hair, her chest heaved and she slightly shook against the table, her leg bouncing up and down continuously.
A couple minutes later the 22 year old crept in. Wearing pj bottoms and a dirty tee shirt. Pink fading in her blonde hair. Avoiding eye contact with the other two she sat as far away from them as possible.
The three of them sat in silence for half an hour. Sitting uncomfortably in the metal chairs. The 8 year old started to get fidgety by the time the door opened and a 24 year old walked in, looking haggard and dressed in hospital blues. She sat at the head of the table and gave a heavy sigh.
Silence fell upon the room for what felt like forever but was merely seconds. The eight year old began fidgeting more in her chair, clearly becoming antsy.
"Where did we go wrong?" The 22 year old looked at her future self. Her gaze falling upon the hospital bracelet she was wearing.
"Mum came and made me start practicing the violin, she interrupted me!" The 8 year old bursted out clearly unable to maintain sitting still anymore.
"It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough. It wasn't enough," 13 year old repeated herself rocking back and forth. She shook her head slowly dejected. "And now I have a 3 year old sister to look out for, I'm scared to leave her alone," her voice shook as she drummed her fingers on the table.
Then there was silence. The three individuals looked at the disheveled 22 year old. Waiting expectantly for her answer.
She shrugged her shoulders and leaned forward onto the table. Placing her hands face down on the table she exposed her heavily scarred left arm, and right hand in a brace. "Look you two," She looks at her younger selves and takes a deep breath "In the span of one year, we're laid off, mum get's diagnosed with cancer, we get raped, we drop out of university, mum dies, our friends stop talking to us and one of our cats goes missing. I didn't *mean* to fail. But I clearly didn't learn from last time. As it wasn't enough. Again." She looked down at her hands and took in a gulp of breath having rushed through her spiel.
The 24 year old cleared her throat. She looked at her younger selves with pity. "The medication worked once I saw a better psychiatrist who knew what he was doing." She shifted in her chair and continued, "I wouldn't have failed except that my neighbour found me. I won't fail again." She stood up quickly, her chair falling over onto the floor and briskly walks out of the room.
The three selves remain seated in the room. Waiting for the 5 other future versions to arrive. Dusk settled on the room after a few hours passed, the 8 year old having already left the room out of child-like impatience. The 13 year old and the 22 year old began giving each other uncomfortable glances as realization fell upon them, that no one else would be coming. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | The eight versions sat at a large rectangular wooden table. They were arranged from youngest to oldest, four on each side. The room was filled with deafening silence. Every one of them sat there glaring over their left shoulder at the past, and recoiling from the piercing gaze of the future. | Charlie stared at Charlie, who he noticed was too preoccupied deriding Charlie to pay any attention to his glares. Charlie sat down and took count. There are nine Charlies at the table, and Charlie paid good money to the Omni Corporation to have nine decades of Charlie brought here, in Charlies house. Well...Charlie's Mansion.
It was quite an impressive dwelling. Charlie couldn't help but look around, large ornate hallways, full waitstaff, private chef, there's a nice hedge maze outside. Hell, there's even a collection of old Teslas out back, down to the original Roadster. He had it made! What is this meeting even for?!
The second-from-oldest Charlie stood up. "Everyone, settle down. We need to, first of all, come up with a naming convention here. We'll go by age. Young boy, you are One. I will be Eight. Our senile friend here will be Nine. Got it?"
They all agreed. "Well then, now that we're all settled, we will go down the row, first with One and last with...with Nine. Tell us what happened. One?"
A ten year old boy. He looked around the room, confused and scared. He offered the only offering a child can give when caught doing something wrong. Charlie, what did you do wrong? "I don't know...I want to go home..." It was the truest answer Charlie would hear that night, but none of the Charlies would listen. Tears began to form in his eyes, the other Charlies forgave him. What could a child know?
Two was up next. "This isn't my fault, I mean, I did what was expected of me. I'm at Harvard, I'm getting good grades...I'm on the rowing team, if you ask me I'm doing the best I *could* do. How was I supposed to know? Maybe Three should work harder, you know, not get lazy after landing a job." All the Charlies agreed. They'd have done the same thing. One played with his fingers, making shadow puppets against the bookshelves with the light of the fireplace.
Three furrowed his brow. "I've just made partner before coming here." He offered nothing else. "Should I leave? I don't think so. If you ask me, none of us could see this coming!" The older Charlies grimaced at the thought. Leave the firm? Look at the fortune it has brought! All facts given, the chances of doing better are slim to none. Still, there was a problem to solve, and nine Charlies to figure it out.
Four sat solemnly, staring at One. "Well...I've brought you all here, didn't I? If I knew the answer I wouldn't have called this meeting..." His gaze shifted to his wife, Emma. She leaned against the doorway, eyes closed and arms crossed. The pain was clearly written on her face...what could be done?
Five gave no answer. No amount of prodding could rouse him. He paid more attention to Emma and to Nine than anything else. Charlie gave up hope. It was on to Six.
Six had an answer. He believed he know it. "Pay more attention to Emma! Your career is set...you've made millions! Two, keep doing what you're doing, Three, don't listen to Mr. Nguyen's suggestions! You'll be better off for it! Four, ma-"
"You fucking fools, you blind fucking idiots," Emma screamed. "I'll tell you what, though. You never cease to amaze me. You've found a way to get nine people in one room and managed to ask nobody what went wrong."
Nine looked up at Emma. "Emma?" He smiled. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They all stared at him. Was it because he was the youngest one? Was it because they were all short?
"You're all gonna tell me to drink milk, aren't you! Because I never get taller! I won't do it! I don't care if I'm short forever!"
They didn't say anything.
"Well if that's not it, what is it with you guys!?
The next oldest one put a hand on his shoulder. It was fake. Would he loose his hand in the future?
"Listen," he said, "When mom dies, leave her be. There's nothing you can give in exchange for a human life."
| Charlie stared at Charlie, who he noticed was too preoccupied deriding Charlie to pay any attention to his glares. Charlie sat down and took count. There are nine Charlies at the table, and Charlie paid good money to the Omni Corporation to have nine decades of Charlie brought here, in Charlies house. Well...Charlie's Mansion.
It was quite an impressive dwelling. Charlie couldn't help but look around, large ornate hallways, full waitstaff, private chef, there's a nice hedge maze outside. Hell, there's even a collection of old Teslas out back, down to the original Roadster. He had it made! What is this meeting even for?!
The second-from-oldest Charlie stood up. "Everyone, settle down. We need to, first of all, come up with a naming convention here. We'll go by age. Young boy, you are One. I will be Eight. Our senile friend here will be Nine. Got it?"
They all agreed. "Well then, now that we're all settled, we will go down the row, first with One and last with...with Nine. Tell us what happened. One?"
A ten year old boy. He looked around the room, confused and scared. He offered the only offering a child can give when caught doing something wrong. Charlie, what did you do wrong? "I don't know...I want to go home..." It was the truest answer Charlie would hear that night, but none of the Charlies would listen. Tears began to form in his eyes, the other Charlies forgave him. What could a child know?
Two was up next. "This isn't my fault, I mean, I did what was expected of me. I'm at Harvard, I'm getting good grades...I'm on the rowing team, if you ask me I'm doing the best I *could* do. How was I supposed to know? Maybe Three should work harder, you know, not get lazy after landing a job." All the Charlies agreed. They'd have done the same thing. One played with his fingers, making shadow puppets against the bookshelves with the light of the fireplace.
Three furrowed his brow. "I've just made partner before coming here." He offered nothing else. "Should I leave? I don't think so. If you ask me, none of us could see this coming!" The older Charlies grimaced at the thought. Leave the firm? Look at the fortune it has brought! All facts given, the chances of doing better are slim to none. Still, there was a problem to solve, and nine Charlies to figure it out.
Four sat solemnly, staring at One. "Well...I've brought you all here, didn't I? If I knew the answer I wouldn't have called this meeting..." His gaze shifted to his wife, Emma. She leaned against the doorway, eyes closed and arms crossed. The pain was clearly written on her face...what could be done?
Five gave no answer. No amount of prodding could rouse him. He paid more attention to Emma and to Nine than anything else. Charlie gave up hope. It was on to Six.
Six had an answer. He believed he know it. "Pay more attention to Emma! Your career is set...you've made millions! Two, keep doing what you're doing, Three, don't listen to Mr. Nguyen's suggestions! You'll be better off for it! Four, ma-"
"You fucking fools, you blind fucking idiots," Emma screamed. "I'll tell you what, though. You never cease to amaze me. You've found a way to get nine people in one room and managed to ask nobody what went wrong."
Nine looked up at Emma. "Emma?" He smiled. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | The infant appeared first. A chubby baby, his black hair was just beginning to come in, and I slid my hand over it as I picked him up to rock him. The skinny husky had managed to follow him, and began growling deep in his throat as he looked up at me. I rocked the sleeping babe in my arms and knelt down next to the husky. I extended my left hand out to him, leaving it half-a-foot in front of his pink nose.
“It’s me, Perseus. It’s been so long… It’s good to see you.” I said, unsure if I should smile or cry. He took a step toward me, then lifted his head to mine and started licking my face. I laughed and threw my left arm over him, careful to keep the baby steady in the crook of my right arm.
“I don’t believe this.” A shaky baritone said, coming over my right shoulder. I turned, and saw myself walking forward. His face was more scraggly - a side-effect of still experimenting with the facial hair. He was holding out for the demilitarized zone separating his moustache from the rest of his beard to break down, but he was starting to lose faith in ever having a full beard. We wore nearly the same shirt, a pair of blue jeans that sat a little bit looser on his waist, and a pair of converse.
“Welcome.” I said to him, standing and looking pointedly at the baby. I shifted the infant onto my left side, and extended my right hand out to the newcomer. “May not get a chance to do this again. I’m 22.” He took my hand and shook it, a firm hand grasping mine. At my words, his smile fell, and his eyebrows lifted up.
“You mean...we don’t make it to 23?”
“No.” I said, shaking my head. “I just mean I’m 22. I remember you, 21. And this guy here,” I looked back to the babe, “is 0? Maybe 1? Just a babe, to be sure. I don’t know how, but he managed to bring Perseus with him.” At his name, the husky came trotting around me, and 21 fell to his knees, wrapping the dog in his arms, oblivious to the whip-cracks Percy’s tails were making against the floor.
“Daddy?” A small voice called, and I turned to find 3 walking up to me. Just a small thing, old enough to walk and talk. Could he read? I wasn’t sure, but he absolutely contained the same innocence that 1 did.
“No, boy. I’m close, though. Give me a minute, and I’ll explain when you’re - when the others are here.” No sooner had I spoken then 12 and 14 came running up. 12 was sobbing, and ignored everyone as he ran to Perseus. 21 stood up and walked over to me, weighing 12 with his stare.
“Did you pull him from October?” He asked. I nodded, the motion turning my neck into a bobblehead. Subconsciously, 21 took up the motion. “A chance to say goodbye proper?”
“You gotta remember I didn’t know Percy would be here. I suppose with all the talk about being a Guardian, I should have expected it, but…” I trailed off.
“Are you two twins?” 3 asked, tugging on my hand. I looked down at him and smiled, but didn’t answer him. I looked up at 14, who was standing off by his own, staring down at 12 and Perseus. His fists were clenched and he kept blinking his eyes and taking deep, shaky breaths. I turned away, and 21 said hello to 6, who had come running up.
“Hey!” 6 said, looking at 3, “You look a lot like me! Are you my little brother?”
“Nuh-uh!” 3 said, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m an only child!”
“Oh, well do you wanna play tag?” 6 asked, pushing his new glasses up the bridge of his nose. With a nod, 3 pushed on 6 and took off running into the featureless distance.
“Do you know what I’m looking for, 21?” I asked, placing my free hand on the babe’s back and tapping gently. When he didn’t reply, I turned to look at him, but he’d walked away. Perseus was on the floor, his belly up in the air, his belly being rubbed by 12 and the newcomer 18. I kept looking for 21, and found him hugging 14. I quietly walked over, and nodded to 16 as he came to walk beside me.
“What is this?” 16 asked, he looked askance at me, then continued asking questions. “Is this - did I travel time? I remember looking like that…” He said, pointing at 14, who had begun sobbing onto 21’s shoulder. The babe in my arm started to stir, and I rhythmically patted his back. “And over there...No, is that Perseus?”
“It is,” I said, “And this is...something like time travel. It’s all very intricate math and meditation stuff. As for what it is, I hope it’s an answer.” He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in my best questioning stare, but I kept silent as we came up to the crying 14 and 21. I heard panting, and turned to see Perseus running up to 14, 12 and 18 trotting at Percy’s heels. 12’s cheeks were wet, but he was smiling. I pulled him aside.
“I’m glad I could give you a chance to show him how much you loved him. I’ll give you another moment when we’re done, but it’s all I can do. I can’t...this place...You’ll take with you the knowledge and the experience, but the pain will still be fresh. Focus on the good memories, okay? They make the emptiness a little less hollow.” He nodded, but he was staring at 14, who was now bawling into Percy’s flank, 14’s arms wrapped around the dog’s neck. Perseus, for his part, was licking at the tears, soaking up all the salt he could get.
“Will it still hurt that much, years from now?” 12 asked, his voice a soft terror beside me.
“No.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “14, well, it’s a rough birthday, and a rough start to high school. The choices in front of you - I’ve had 8 years to look over them, and there’s no winning. You’ll get through it though, and look at how strong you are at 16! You can drive, you know a ton of kung-fu, and well… Junior year’s good to you.” I knelt down, gesturing for him to take a knee as well. His gold-specked eyes locked on mine, and he waited. Had I ever been that patient at 12?
“You need to know. You’re going to be hurt, time and again. Your heart is going to be stomped on, torn out, and pissed on.” He wrinkled his nose at that. “By 18, you’ll think that you’ve experienced every possible way your heart can be hurt, and you’re going to get a really stupid thought into your head.” I said. These words were getting harder to say, staring into those eyes of mine on that young, innocent face.
“You’re going to decide that if you don’t let people in, you’re invincible. If you don’t share, people can’t take advantage. If you don’t trust, you won’t be let down.” As I spoke the words, I felt a presence pushing at the realm, and I laughed as I opened the mental door. Thumper came prancing into the mindscape, and at the site of the large red-and-white furred dog, 3 and 6 ceased playing tag and came running over. Thumper threw his hip against me, his haunches coming up to my belly button as I braced my knee against the ground. I took my hand off 12’s shoulder and absently petted Thumper’s back as the kids came running up to him. 21 looked up, and at the site of Thumper his eyes went wide, and I laughed, remembering the pup that had fit in my hand that first week.
“The thing is 12, we’re going to make a lot of stupid mistakes. We’re going to get hurt, time and time again.” Thumper whined as Percy came over, and I trailed off as the two took stock of each other. Perseus looked him over, then looked to me, and his mouth dropped open into a lolling doggy grin. Thumper lurched forward and nipped at Percy’s front leg, and the two took off running and barking at one another.
“The world’s going to hurt us,” I began again, staring off at the pups playing and rubbing the infant’s back as he settled back into sleep. “But that’s okay. You and me? We’re tough guys. We’ll take the pain and remember it, but we’ll focus on moments like these, okay? We’ll take the bad with the good, and let the bad settle on the bottom of our memories - there, but buried under our happiness. Can you agree to that?”
12 stared at Perseus, running and fighting with Thumper, tears moving down his face again. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and we both turned to see 14 smiling down at him. 14 locked eyes with 12 and nodded. 12 turned back to me, gold-specked eyes glittering through tears.
“Deal.” He said, nodding once.
| Charlie stared at Charlie, who he noticed was too preoccupied deriding Charlie to pay any attention to his glares. Charlie sat down and took count. There are nine Charlies at the table, and Charlie paid good money to the Omni Corporation to have nine decades of Charlie brought here, in Charlies house. Well...Charlie's Mansion.
It was quite an impressive dwelling. Charlie couldn't help but look around, large ornate hallways, full waitstaff, private chef, there's a nice hedge maze outside. Hell, there's even a collection of old Teslas out back, down to the original Roadster. He had it made! What is this meeting even for?!
The second-from-oldest Charlie stood up. "Everyone, settle down. We need to, first of all, come up with a naming convention here. We'll go by age. Young boy, you are One. I will be Eight. Our senile friend here will be Nine. Got it?"
They all agreed. "Well then, now that we're all settled, we will go down the row, first with One and last with...with Nine. Tell us what happened. One?"
A ten year old boy. He looked around the room, confused and scared. He offered the only offering a child can give when caught doing something wrong. Charlie, what did you do wrong? "I don't know...I want to go home..." It was the truest answer Charlie would hear that night, but none of the Charlies would listen. Tears began to form in his eyes, the other Charlies forgave him. What could a child know?
Two was up next. "This isn't my fault, I mean, I did what was expected of me. I'm at Harvard, I'm getting good grades...I'm on the rowing team, if you ask me I'm doing the best I *could* do. How was I supposed to know? Maybe Three should work harder, you know, not get lazy after landing a job." All the Charlies agreed. They'd have done the same thing. One played with his fingers, making shadow puppets against the bookshelves with the light of the fireplace.
Three furrowed his brow. "I've just made partner before coming here." He offered nothing else. "Should I leave? I don't think so. If you ask me, none of us could see this coming!" The older Charlies grimaced at the thought. Leave the firm? Look at the fortune it has brought! All facts given, the chances of doing better are slim to none. Still, there was a problem to solve, and nine Charlies to figure it out.
Four sat solemnly, staring at One. "Well...I've brought you all here, didn't I? If I knew the answer I wouldn't have called this meeting..." His gaze shifted to his wife, Emma. She leaned against the doorway, eyes closed and arms crossed. The pain was clearly written on her face...what could be done?
Five gave no answer. No amount of prodding could rouse him. He paid more attention to Emma and to Nine than anything else. Charlie gave up hope. It was on to Six.
Six had an answer. He believed he know it. "Pay more attention to Emma! Your career is set...you've made millions! Two, keep doing what you're doing, Three, don't listen to Mr. Nguyen's suggestions! You'll be better off for it! Four, ma-"
"You fucking fools, you blind fucking idiots," Emma screamed. "I'll tell you what, though. You never cease to amaze me. You've found a way to get nine people in one room and managed to ask nobody what went wrong."
Nine looked up at Emma. "Emma?" He smiled. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They stared quietly at 21.
She looked at the floor. She didn't want 4, 10, 14 or 18 to see their future, nor 32, 46, 55 and 74 to see their past. To see the bruises. The black eye.
What went wrong? Ha. She was what had gone wrong.
"21?" said a gentle voice, tempered by age and experience. "21, look at me."
It was 74. She had long silver hair. The tattoos on her arms had become warped and faded. Now they looked like the vines of a great tree that wrapped around her whole body. 21 took her eyes off her own arms, bare of any mark but the cigarette burns, and faced the woman she would one day become.
"Dear, the topic of this meeting is how to fix it," 74 said, calmly. 21's older selves shared a furtive glance. "You need not fear us. We know what has happened. Moreover, we know what will happen. We knew this time would come, for we are all the woman who sat in your place so many years ago. Now, why don't you discuss some lovely times from the past with your younger selves? We have some business to attend too."
21 watched as her older selves arose from their chairs. 32 had a claw hammer. 46 carried plastic sheeting. 55 carried a shovel.
74 carried nothing. No weapon, no tool to clean up the mess afterward. Yet she wore her confidence like a cloak. She wrapped herself in certainty and did not hesitate for a moment as she stepped through the portal that 21 had come from.
The man who had been screaming "you bitch you better get back here and take what you fucking deserve" stopped shouting for a moment when 74 walked in. When 32 walked in there was a dull thud, like a meat tenderizer finding its mark.
Then there were no more sounds but the rustling of 46's plastic sheeting, and the bite of 55's shovel into the earth. | Charlie stared at Charlie, who he noticed was too preoccupied deriding Charlie to pay any attention to his glares. Charlie sat down and took count. There are nine Charlies at the table, and Charlie paid good money to the Omni Corporation to have nine decades of Charlie brought here, in Charlies house. Well...Charlie's Mansion.
It was quite an impressive dwelling. Charlie couldn't help but look around, large ornate hallways, full waitstaff, private chef, there's a nice hedge maze outside. Hell, there's even a collection of old Teslas out back, down to the original Roadster. He had it made! What is this meeting even for?!
The second-from-oldest Charlie stood up. "Everyone, settle down. We need to, first of all, come up with a naming convention here. We'll go by age. Young boy, you are One. I will be Eight. Our senile friend here will be Nine. Got it?"
They all agreed. "Well then, now that we're all settled, we will go down the row, first with One and last with...with Nine. Tell us what happened. One?"
A ten year old boy. He looked around the room, confused and scared. He offered the only offering a child can give when caught doing something wrong. Charlie, what did you do wrong? "I don't know...I want to go home..." It was the truest answer Charlie would hear that night, but none of the Charlies would listen. Tears began to form in his eyes, the other Charlies forgave him. What could a child know?
Two was up next. "This isn't my fault, I mean, I did what was expected of me. I'm at Harvard, I'm getting good grades...I'm on the rowing team, if you ask me I'm doing the best I *could* do. How was I supposed to know? Maybe Three should work harder, you know, not get lazy after landing a job." All the Charlies agreed. They'd have done the same thing. One played with his fingers, making shadow puppets against the bookshelves with the light of the fireplace.
Three furrowed his brow. "I've just made partner before coming here." He offered nothing else. "Should I leave? I don't think so. If you ask me, none of us could see this coming!" The older Charlies grimaced at the thought. Leave the firm? Look at the fortune it has brought! All facts given, the chances of doing better are slim to none. Still, there was a problem to solve, and nine Charlies to figure it out.
Four sat solemnly, staring at One. "Well...I've brought you all here, didn't I? If I knew the answer I wouldn't have called this meeting..." His gaze shifted to his wife, Emma. She leaned against the doorway, eyes closed and arms crossed. The pain was clearly written on her face...what could be done?
Five gave no answer. No amount of prodding could rouse him. He paid more attention to Emma and to Nine than anything else. Charlie gave up hope. It was on to Six.
Six had an answer. He believed he know it. "Pay more attention to Emma! Your career is set...you've made millions! Two, keep doing what you're doing, Three, don't listen to Mr. Nguyen's suggestions! You'll be better off for it! Four, ma-"
"You fucking fools, you blind fucking idiots," Emma screamed. "I'll tell you what, though. You never cease to amaze me. You've found a way to get nine people in one room and managed to ask nobody what went wrong."
Nine looked up at Emma. "Emma?" He smiled. |
|
[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They all stared at him. Was it because he was the youngest one? Was it because they were all short?
"You're all gonna tell me to drink milk, aren't you! Because I never get taller! I won't do it! I don't care if I'm short forever!"
They didn't say anything.
"Well if that's not it, what is it with you guys!?
The next oldest one put a hand on his shoulder. It was fake. Would he loose his hand in the future?
"Listen," he said, "When mom dies, leave her be. There's nothing you can give in exchange for a human life."
| The eight versions sat at a large rectangular wooden table. They were arranged from youngest to oldest, four on each side. The room was filled with deafening silence. Every one of them sat there glaring over their left shoulder at the past, and recoiling from the piercing gaze of the future. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | The infant appeared first. A chubby baby, his black hair was just beginning to come in, and I slid my hand over it as I picked him up to rock him. The skinny husky had managed to follow him, and began growling deep in his throat as he looked up at me. I rocked the sleeping babe in my arms and knelt down next to the husky. I extended my left hand out to him, leaving it half-a-foot in front of his pink nose.
“It’s me, Perseus. It’s been so long… It’s good to see you.” I said, unsure if I should smile or cry. He took a step toward me, then lifted his head to mine and started licking my face. I laughed and threw my left arm over him, careful to keep the baby steady in the crook of my right arm.
“I don’t believe this.” A shaky baritone said, coming over my right shoulder. I turned, and saw myself walking forward. His face was more scraggly - a side-effect of still experimenting with the facial hair. He was holding out for the demilitarized zone separating his moustache from the rest of his beard to break down, but he was starting to lose faith in ever having a full beard. We wore nearly the same shirt, a pair of blue jeans that sat a little bit looser on his waist, and a pair of converse.
“Welcome.” I said to him, standing and looking pointedly at the baby. I shifted the infant onto my left side, and extended my right hand out to the newcomer. “May not get a chance to do this again. I’m 22.” He took my hand and shook it, a firm hand grasping mine. At my words, his smile fell, and his eyebrows lifted up.
“You mean...we don’t make it to 23?”
“No.” I said, shaking my head. “I just mean I’m 22. I remember you, 21. And this guy here,” I looked back to the babe, “is 0? Maybe 1? Just a babe, to be sure. I don’t know how, but he managed to bring Perseus with him.” At his name, the husky came trotting around me, and 21 fell to his knees, wrapping the dog in his arms, oblivious to the whip-cracks Percy’s tails were making against the floor.
“Daddy?” A small voice called, and I turned to find 3 walking up to me. Just a small thing, old enough to walk and talk. Could he read? I wasn’t sure, but he absolutely contained the same innocence that 1 did.
“No, boy. I’m close, though. Give me a minute, and I’ll explain when you’re - when the others are here.” No sooner had I spoken then 12 and 14 came running up. 12 was sobbing, and ignored everyone as he ran to Perseus. 21 stood up and walked over to me, weighing 12 with his stare.
“Did you pull him from October?” He asked. I nodded, the motion turning my neck into a bobblehead. Subconsciously, 21 took up the motion. “A chance to say goodbye proper?”
“You gotta remember I didn’t know Percy would be here. I suppose with all the talk about being a Guardian, I should have expected it, but…” I trailed off.
“Are you two twins?” 3 asked, tugging on my hand. I looked down at him and smiled, but didn’t answer him. I looked up at 14, who was standing off by his own, staring down at 12 and Perseus. His fists were clenched and he kept blinking his eyes and taking deep, shaky breaths. I turned away, and 21 said hello to 6, who had come running up.
“Hey!” 6 said, looking at 3, “You look a lot like me! Are you my little brother?”
“Nuh-uh!” 3 said, shaking his head emphatically. “I’m an only child!”
“Oh, well do you wanna play tag?” 6 asked, pushing his new glasses up the bridge of his nose. With a nod, 3 pushed on 6 and took off running into the featureless distance.
“Do you know what I’m looking for, 21?” I asked, placing my free hand on the babe’s back and tapping gently. When he didn’t reply, I turned to look at him, but he’d walked away. Perseus was on the floor, his belly up in the air, his belly being rubbed by 12 and the newcomer 18. I kept looking for 21, and found him hugging 14. I quietly walked over, and nodded to 16 as he came to walk beside me.
“What is this?” 16 asked, he looked askance at me, then continued asking questions. “Is this - did I travel time? I remember looking like that…” He said, pointing at 14, who had begun sobbing onto 21’s shoulder. The babe in my arm started to stir, and I rhythmically patted his back. “And over there...No, is that Perseus?”
“It is,” I said, “And this is...something like time travel. It’s all very intricate math and meditation stuff. As for what it is, I hope it’s an answer.” He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed in my best questioning stare, but I kept silent as we came up to the crying 14 and 21. I heard panting, and turned to see Perseus running up to 14, 12 and 18 trotting at Percy’s heels. 12’s cheeks were wet, but he was smiling. I pulled him aside.
“I’m glad I could give you a chance to show him how much you loved him. I’ll give you another moment when we’re done, but it’s all I can do. I can’t...this place...You’ll take with you the knowledge and the experience, but the pain will still be fresh. Focus on the good memories, okay? They make the emptiness a little less hollow.” He nodded, but he was staring at 14, who was now bawling into Percy’s flank, 14’s arms wrapped around the dog’s neck. Perseus, for his part, was licking at the tears, soaking up all the salt he could get.
“Will it still hurt that much, years from now?” 12 asked, his voice a soft terror beside me.
“No.” I said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “14, well, it’s a rough birthday, and a rough start to high school. The choices in front of you - I’ve had 8 years to look over them, and there’s no winning. You’ll get through it though, and look at how strong you are at 16! You can drive, you know a ton of kung-fu, and well… Junior year’s good to you.” I knelt down, gesturing for him to take a knee as well. His gold-specked eyes locked on mine, and he waited. Had I ever been that patient at 12?
“You need to know. You’re going to be hurt, time and again. Your heart is going to be stomped on, torn out, and pissed on.” He wrinkled his nose at that. “By 18, you’ll think that you’ve experienced every possible way your heart can be hurt, and you’re going to get a really stupid thought into your head.” I said. These words were getting harder to say, staring into those eyes of mine on that young, innocent face.
“You’re going to decide that if you don’t let people in, you’re invincible. If you don’t share, people can’t take advantage. If you don’t trust, you won’t be let down.” As I spoke the words, I felt a presence pushing at the realm, and I laughed as I opened the mental door. Thumper came prancing into the mindscape, and at the site of the large red-and-white furred dog, 3 and 6 ceased playing tag and came running over. Thumper threw his hip against me, his haunches coming up to my belly button as I braced my knee against the ground. I took my hand off 12’s shoulder and absently petted Thumper’s back as the kids came running up to him. 21 looked up, and at the site of Thumper his eyes went wide, and I laughed, remembering the pup that had fit in my hand that first week.
“The thing is 12, we’re going to make a lot of stupid mistakes. We’re going to get hurt, time and time again.” Thumper whined as Percy came over, and I trailed off as the two took stock of each other. Perseus looked him over, then looked to me, and his mouth dropped open into a lolling doggy grin. Thumper lurched forward and nipped at Percy’s front leg, and the two took off running and barking at one another.
“The world’s going to hurt us,” I began again, staring off at the pups playing and rubbing the infant’s back as he settled back into sleep. “But that’s okay. You and me? We’re tough guys. We’ll take the pain and remember it, but we’ll focus on moments like these, okay? We’ll take the bad with the good, and let the bad settle on the bottom of our memories - there, but buried under our happiness. Can you agree to that?”
12 stared at Perseus, running and fighting with Thumper, tears moving down his face again. A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and we both turned to see 14 smiling down at him. 14 locked eyes with 12 and nodded. 12 turned back to me, gold-specked eyes glittering through tears.
“Deal.” He said, nodding once.
| The eight versions sat at a large rectangular wooden table. They were arranged from youngest to oldest, four on each side. The room was filled with deafening silence. Every one of them sat there glaring over their left shoulder at the past, and recoiling from the piercing gaze of the future. |
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[WP] You are brought to a meeting with 9 other versions of you at different ages. The topic of the meeting is "What went wrong and how to fix it." | They stared quietly at 21.
She looked at the floor. She didn't want 4, 10, 14 or 18 to see their future, nor 32, 46, 55 and 74 to see their past. To see the bruises. The black eye.
What went wrong? Ha. She was what had gone wrong.
"21?" said a gentle voice, tempered by age and experience. "21, look at me."
It was 74. She had long silver hair. The tattoos on her arms had become warped and faded. Now they looked like the vines of a great tree that wrapped around her whole body. 21 took her eyes off her own arms, bare of any mark but the cigarette burns, and faced the woman she would one day become.
"Dear, the topic of this meeting is how to fix it," 74 said, calmly. 21's older selves shared a furtive glance. "You need not fear us. We know what has happened. Moreover, we know what will happen. We knew this time would come, for we are all the woman who sat in your place so many years ago. Now, why don't you discuss some lovely times from the past with your younger selves? We have some business to attend too."
21 watched as her older selves arose from their chairs. 32 had a claw hammer. 46 carried plastic sheeting. 55 carried a shovel.
74 carried nothing. No weapon, no tool to clean up the mess afterward. Yet she wore her confidence like a cloak. She wrapped herself in certainty and did not hesitate for a moment as she stepped through the portal that 21 had come from.
The man who had been screaming "you bitch you better get back here and take what you fucking deserve" stopped shouting for a moment when 74 walked in. When 32 walked in there was a dull thud, like a meat tenderizer finding its mark.
Then there were no more sounds but the rustling of 46's plastic sheeting, and the bite of 55's shovel into the earth. | The eight versions sat at a large rectangular wooden table. They were arranged from youngest to oldest, four on each side. The room was filled with deafening silence. Every one of them sat there glaring over their left shoulder at the past, and recoiling from the piercing gaze of the future. |
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[WP] A child inadvertently steps on an insect, killing it. The other insects try to interpret the reasons behind the event. The leading theory is an act of the divine. | Martin scuttled back into the ant hill as fast as his six small legs would take him. "Clive! Clive!" he exclaimed slightly out of breath. "Martin what is it?" Clive retorted reluctantly "Its Jack, he's been killed! A giant stone came down from the sky and crushed him when we were collecting food, I don't understand what has happened" Clive looked puzzled. There was a long silence whilst he thought and thought and he came to no conclusion. The two small ants decided to gather a small posse from the hill and go out to investigate. By the time they had left the ant hill a mist had swept across the tall grasslands that surrounded them. None of the ants said anything to each other, they were all far too bewildered to muster up words. After what could of been 10 minutes or 3 hours of walking through the endless, repeating forest of grass one of the ants broke the silence. "Martin, where exactly did this happen? Do you even know? I thought you said it was nearby!". "It's close Jeremy, so very close" He replied, looking back at the group he was leading. Just seconds later the ground began to rhythmically vibrate. The vibrations turned to a shaking and as it did the staggeringly loud thumps became audible very quickly. As they came to a clearing they all looked up, and this godlike being towering above them, the ants were taken aback, their whole worlds turned upside down; reality shaken- They were looking at a deity. A deity which gives and takes life as it pleases, a deity which on the very tip of comprehension. As the ants surrendered themselves to a greater being, the deity let out a loud bellow that shook lands far and near "Goo. Goo. Ga. Ga." The words of scripture for generations to come. | Nnnfa was the most annoying of ants. She did not dance as other ants danced. She did not touch antennae as other ants touched antennae. She ate too much food and did too little work. Plus she had this habit of not grooming for several weeks, forcing the whole hill to smell her smell.
Hffp knew there were giants just beyond the great tree and past the colorful blocks of mystery that the smaller giants sometimes sat on.
She lured the Nnnfa to that place, promising a feast like none other. They climbed the metal, making their way to the curved plastic seat of the thing.
"Wait here," Hffp said.
Nnnfa waited. And waited. And waited. She fell asleep waiting, wondering if the other ant had gotten lost. They were so stupid.
She woke to the sound of crying and the sight of a large white object coming for her. Before she could move it had crushed her.
"Now sweetie you swing while Mommy does her Sudoku."
The baby cried and shifted, feeling something was wrong but it didn't know what. |
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[WP] A child inadvertently steps on an insect, killing it. The other insects try to interpret the reasons behind the event. The leading theory is an act of the divine. | "All I'm saying is this could have big implications for religion," the cockroach drunkenly slurred.
"What implications? And who said anything about religion? I really don't see what you're drawing from all this." This from a fiery termite who was pounding one leg against the bottle top table enthusiastically. It jumped a little every time it slammed its claw down.
"It's undeniable," the cockroach said.
"No, it's completely deniable. Where's the proof, huh?"
The cockroach stared sadly.
"Where's the proof? I'll tell you, there is no proof."
"No proof it was an accident, either."
The cricket in the corner interrupted. "Hold on, you mean like a divine accident or a cosmic accident?"
"What exactly is the difference?" asked the termite.
"Well, it seems like a divine accident is like something that happens because God or the gods aren't paying attention, whereas a cosmic accident is just random probability and such."
"Why would God not pay attention?" the cockroach asked sleepily.
"I don't know. Maybe..."
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe we assume that God is always looking out for us, in our universe, each and every one especially. But what if He isn't that powerful, or careful?"
"What if there are other universes that distract him?" pondered the cockroach.
"Exactly. Like, God is running around between all these different universes, trying to handle everything, and He just lets us slip every once in a while. God steps away, boom," the cricket stomped, "And now Carl's dead."
"Carl's dead," repeated the cockroach.
"OK, first off, let me stop you there," the termite began angrily. "When you say 'God', capital 'G', you mean the monotheist God, right?"
"Yeah," the cricket replied, following the termite's energy with a gentle head bob.
The ladybug bartender intruded with a candle, placing it gently in the center of the bottle cap among the bugs' drinks. "Hang on, I'm just gonna-"
"It's fine. Alright," the termite said, "Let me just clarify this here. Right here."
The cricket mouthed thanks to the bartender, who nodded.
"When you talk about the monotheist's God, you mean the omnipotent. The classical God who controls the universe and knows everything. And the generally accepted idea of this God is that He or She can do literally anything." The termite contributed some sweeping hand motions to his speech.
"Well, yeah, but what if we don't consider the monotheist God?" the cockroach proposed.
The termite waved his idea aside irritably, saying, "Then use a different name."
"But that's what we say. What other name can we use?" the cockroach insisted.
"How about 'deity'?" suggested the cricket. He produced a cigar from underneath a wing and proceeded to light it from the candle. He puffed on it, mouth working sideways on the end.
"Yes, fine, that works. So your deity, your forgetful deity, He can slack off. But when you say God, you refer to God, that right there means that there is nothing He can't do."
He looked around.
"Which means He can't slip up."
"Well, hold on," the cockroach said. "Who's to say anything's running the show?"
"We're assuming there has to be a reason, or a God, or a deity.”
"But say there wasn't? Say Carl died because things just happen randomly?"
"Then Carl died meaninglessly, I guess," the cricket offered.
"Hey, man."
"Sorry, but I think if you want to say that then you have to consider it."
"Alright, alright. I’ll say there’s a driver for the purpose of this argument.” He took a deep draw from his tankard of fizzy brown alcohol. “But I still think the idea of nothingness deserves thought.” A brief moment of contemplative thought settled around the three bugs.
"Unless it was a divine accident,” the cricket continued.
"Yeah, unless it was a divine accident." The cockroach considered this, then asked, "But wouldn't that mean God's plan-"
"The deity's plan!" the termite interjected.
"Right, yeah, the God's plan, that was just something HE wanted to happen?"
The cricket gazed into the candle. "Explain."
"Like, things are set in motion at Creation, alright? And God pushes things here and there, but the Universe really has a life of its own. Things can happen randomly unless God intervenes."
"Divine interference."
"Yeah."
"So does that mean that God is only all-powerful when he’s paying attention to the Universe? Plus that would mean the Universe could go on without God.”
“Right, that’s what I’m saying. He’s just nudging things in the direction He wants them to go, but the Universe is actually doing all the actions.”
“Like a creator in a big video game world.”
“Right, exactly. He made the physics engine of physics, like actual physics, and He set up the whole game and wrote the code, but He only affects select things. So glitches happen.”
“Does He still have omnipotence?” fumed the termite.
“Yeah, so He can do everything at once.”
“Then He’s all-powerful! Meaning no slip-ups!”
“All-powerful is relative. All-powerful in this universe might mean He can control everything at the same time, but then out of time, in another universe, His attention is needed so He turns it there.”
“Alright, listen,” the cockroach began, but it was interrupted by the termite.
“No, shut up, here me out.”
The cockroach flicked him in the ear.
“Ow! Listen! If God is all-powerful then there are no slip-ups in this Universe. He can go through time and fix things. He can make miracles. A deity with limitations, however, could conceivably have that issue.”
The termite began making a diagram in the air using its legs. “But if the deity could affect all things at the same time, it would have to be limited to moving along time linearly to make sense. Sure, maybe it could see all the steps that needed to happen for its divine plan to work, but it can only move through time at a rate of one second per second.”
“Omni-present, but not omnipotent,” mused the cricket.
“Yes, exactly.”
“That’s all well and good, but what about omniscience?” the cockroach said.
“Well, I see no reason why not.”
“Really? Because if He knows everything, then He could take actions now that would retroactively do what he wants when He needs to be away.” The cockroach demonstrated this by miming putting a bomb on the table and setting a timer. He made a sloppy explosion noise with his mouth.
“He sets the clock,” the cricket said.
“Yeah, He sets the clock. He sets the pieces. If He knows all, then how could something escape His notice?”
“And furthermore,” the cricket jumped in, “I think this deity has to be limited to operating within the laws of physics.”
“Why?” the termite asked.
“Well, you don’t see miracles every day, do you? Nothing out of the ordinary, physically speaking? And I don’t mean the miracle of creation, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know. Except for Carl’s death.”
The ladybug bartender was wiping down glasses. The crack under the door glowed the mauve light of twilight. The three bugs were the only patrons left in the little hole-in-the-wall.
“Right, but that operates within the parameters of our physical universe,” said the cricket. “We know that happens all the time. Nothing unusual.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So then this deity who would allow Carl to die,” finished the cricket triumphantly, “Isn’t all-powerful at all! It’s just really powerful. It can see everything, it created everything, but it only works within the rules it created, and it can forget.”
“Well, when you put it like that, if that’s true, then there’s no way to tell whether or not Carl died for any reason at all.” The termite was cross now.
“Exactly.” The cricket grinned around the cigar. “My point is proven. Could have been God, could have not been God.”
“Not God. A deity,” the termite said bitterly.
“Can we change the topic? I’ve got a headache.” The cockroach groaned to prove his point.
“You could lose your head and not be dead for a while. You’ll live,” the termite snapped. | Nnnfa was the most annoying of ants. She did not dance as other ants danced. She did not touch antennae as other ants touched antennae. She ate too much food and did too little work. Plus she had this habit of not grooming for several weeks, forcing the whole hill to smell her smell.
Hffp knew there were giants just beyond the great tree and past the colorful blocks of mystery that the smaller giants sometimes sat on.
She lured the Nnnfa to that place, promising a feast like none other. They climbed the metal, making their way to the curved plastic seat of the thing.
"Wait here," Hffp said.
Nnnfa waited. And waited. And waited. She fell asleep waiting, wondering if the other ant had gotten lost. They were so stupid.
She woke to the sound of crying and the sight of a large white object coming for her. Before she could move it had crushed her.
"Now sweetie you swing while Mommy does her Sudoku."
The baby cried and shifted, feeling something was wrong but it didn't know what. |
|
[WP] A child inadvertently steps on an insect, killing it. The other insects try to interpret the reasons behind the event. The leading theory is an act of the divine. | "All I'm saying is this could have big implications for religion," the cockroach drunkenly slurred.
"What implications? And who said anything about religion? I really don't see what you're drawing from all this." This from a fiery termite who was pounding one leg against the bottle top table enthusiastically. It jumped a little every time it slammed its claw down.
"It's undeniable," the cockroach said.
"No, it's completely deniable. Where's the proof, huh?"
The cockroach stared sadly.
"Where's the proof? I'll tell you, there is no proof."
"No proof it was an accident, either."
The cricket in the corner interrupted. "Hold on, you mean like a divine accident or a cosmic accident?"
"What exactly is the difference?" asked the termite.
"Well, it seems like a divine accident is like something that happens because God or the gods aren't paying attention, whereas a cosmic accident is just random probability and such."
"Why would God not pay attention?" the cockroach asked sleepily.
"I don't know. Maybe..."
"Maybe what?"
"Maybe we assume that God is always looking out for us, in our universe, each and every one especially. But what if He isn't that powerful, or careful?"
"What if there are other universes that distract him?" pondered the cockroach.
"Exactly. Like, God is running around between all these different universes, trying to handle everything, and He just lets us slip every once in a while. God steps away, boom," the cricket stomped, "And now Carl's dead."
"Carl's dead," repeated the cockroach.
"OK, first off, let me stop you there," the termite began angrily. "When you say 'God', capital 'G', you mean the monotheist God, right?"
"Yeah," the cricket replied, following the termite's energy with a gentle head bob.
The ladybug bartender intruded with a candle, placing it gently in the center of the bottle cap among the bugs' drinks. "Hang on, I'm just gonna-"
"It's fine. Alright," the termite said, "Let me just clarify this here. Right here."
The cricket mouthed thanks to the bartender, who nodded.
"When you talk about the monotheist's God, you mean the omnipotent. The classical God who controls the universe and knows everything. And the generally accepted idea of this God is that He or She can do literally anything." The termite contributed some sweeping hand motions to his speech.
"Well, yeah, but what if we don't consider the monotheist God?" the cockroach proposed.
The termite waved his idea aside irritably, saying, "Then use a different name."
"But that's what we say. What other name can we use?" the cockroach insisted.
"How about 'deity'?" suggested the cricket. He produced a cigar from underneath a wing and proceeded to light it from the candle. He puffed on it, mouth working sideways on the end.
"Yes, fine, that works. So your deity, your forgetful deity, He can slack off. But when you say God, you refer to God, that right there means that there is nothing He can't do."
He looked around.
"Which means He can't slip up."
"Well, hold on," the cockroach said. "Who's to say anything's running the show?"
"We're assuming there has to be a reason, or a God, or a deity.”
"But say there wasn't? Say Carl died because things just happen randomly?"
"Then Carl died meaninglessly, I guess," the cricket offered.
"Hey, man."
"Sorry, but I think if you want to say that then you have to consider it."
"Alright, alright. I’ll say there’s a driver for the purpose of this argument.” He took a deep draw from his tankard of fizzy brown alcohol. “But I still think the idea of nothingness deserves thought.” A brief moment of contemplative thought settled around the three bugs.
"Unless it was a divine accident,” the cricket continued.
"Yeah, unless it was a divine accident." The cockroach considered this, then asked, "But wouldn't that mean God's plan-"
"The deity's plan!" the termite interjected.
"Right, yeah, the God's plan, that was just something HE wanted to happen?"
The cricket gazed into the candle. "Explain."
"Like, things are set in motion at Creation, alright? And God pushes things here and there, but the Universe really has a life of its own. Things can happen randomly unless God intervenes."
"Divine interference."
"Yeah."
"So does that mean that God is only all-powerful when he’s paying attention to the Universe? Plus that would mean the Universe could go on without God.”
“Right, that’s what I’m saying. He’s just nudging things in the direction He wants them to go, but the Universe is actually doing all the actions.”
“Like a creator in a big video game world.”
“Right, exactly. He made the physics engine of physics, like actual physics, and He set up the whole game and wrote the code, but He only affects select things. So glitches happen.”
“Does He still have omnipotence?” fumed the termite.
“Yeah, so He can do everything at once.”
“Then He’s all-powerful! Meaning no slip-ups!”
“All-powerful is relative. All-powerful in this universe might mean He can control everything at the same time, but then out of time, in another universe, His attention is needed so He turns it there.”
“Alright, listen,” the cockroach began, but it was interrupted by the termite.
“No, shut up, here me out.”
The cockroach flicked him in the ear.
“Ow! Listen! If God is all-powerful then there are no slip-ups in this Universe. He can go through time and fix things. He can make miracles. A deity with limitations, however, could conceivably have that issue.”
The termite began making a diagram in the air using its legs. “But if the deity could affect all things at the same time, it would have to be limited to moving along time linearly to make sense. Sure, maybe it could see all the steps that needed to happen for its divine plan to work, but it can only move through time at a rate of one second per second.”
“Omni-present, but not omnipotent,” mused the cricket.
“Yes, exactly.”
“That’s all well and good, but what about omniscience?” the cockroach said.
“Well, I see no reason why not.”
“Really? Because if He knows everything, then He could take actions now that would retroactively do what he wants when He needs to be away.” The cockroach demonstrated this by miming putting a bomb on the table and setting a timer. He made a sloppy explosion noise with his mouth.
“He sets the clock,” the cricket said.
“Yeah, He sets the clock. He sets the pieces. If He knows all, then how could something escape His notice?”
“And furthermore,” the cricket jumped in, “I think this deity has to be limited to operating within the laws of physics.”
“Why?” the termite asked.
“Well, you don’t see miracles every day, do you? Nothing out of the ordinary, physically speaking? And I don’t mean the miracle of creation, you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I know. Except for Carl’s death.”
The ladybug bartender was wiping down glasses. The crack under the door glowed the mauve light of twilight. The three bugs were the only patrons left in the little hole-in-the-wall.
“Right, but that operates within the parameters of our physical universe,” said the cricket. “We know that happens all the time. Nothing unusual.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So then this deity who would allow Carl to die,” finished the cricket triumphantly, “Isn’t all-powerful at all! It’s just really powerful. It can see everything, it created everything, but it only works within the rules it created, and it can forget.”
“Well, when you put it like that, if that’s true, then there’s no way to tell whether or not Carl died for any reason at all.” The termite was cross now.
“Exactly.” The cricket grinned around the cigar. “My point is proven. Could have been God, could have not been God.”
“Not God. A deity,” the termite said bitterly.
“Can we change the topic? I’ve got a headache.” The cockroach groaned to prove his point.
“You could lose your head and not be dead for a while. You’ll live,” the termite snapped. | Martin scuttled back into the ant hill as fast as his six small legs would take him. "Clive! Clive!" he exclaimed slightly out of breath. "Martin what is it?" Clive retorted reluctantly "Its Jack, he's been killed! A giant stone came down from the sky and crushed him when we were collecting food, I don't understand what has happened" Clive looked puzzled. There was a long silence whilst he thought and thought and he came to no conclusion. The two small ants decided to gather a small posse from the hill and go out to investigate. By the time they had left the ant hill a mist had swept across the tall grasslands that surrounded them. None of the ants said anything to each other, they were all far too bewildered to muster up words. After what could of been 10 minutes or 3 hours of walking through the endless, repeating forest of grass one of the ants broke the silence. "Martin, where exactly did this happen? Do you even know? I thought you said it was nearby!". "It's close Jeremy, so very close" He replied, looking back at the group he was leading. Just seconds later the ground began to rhythmically vibrate. The vibrations turned to a shaking and as it did the staggeringly loud thumps became audible very quickly. As they came to a clearing they all looked up, and this godlike being towering above them, the ants were taken aback, their whole worlds turned upside down; reality shaken- They were looking at a deity. A deity which gives and takes life as it pleases, a deity which on the very tip of comprehension. As the ants surrendered themselves to a greater being, the deity let out a loud bellow that shook lands far and near "Goo. Goo. Ga. Ga." The words of scripture for generations to come. |
|
[WP] A girl receives a phone call from her sister that their parents were just killed in a horrific incident. Write that conversation. | Her phone buzzed angrily against the wooden table. Her eyes flickered for a second away from the reality TV show, and then after a second, she lazily flicked the screen, taking the call.
"'Ello?"
"Oh god. Lily. Thank god. You picked up. Oh god. M-Mom. Dad. They- Oh god."
Her back tightened and she sat up. "Rose? What's wrong?"
"T-there's blood everywhere. Mom - Dad - they are missing their heads!" Her voice dissolved into ragged sobs.
Lily hesitated. She stared for a second at the laughing faces on television before shaking herself back to reality. A breath slowly left her mouth. "Stop joking. It isn't funny."
"Why would I joke about this?!" Rose's voice came out as a shriek. "Their heads are gone! Oh god!"
"Stay right there. Call the cops. I am coming over." Lily quickly quit the call. She stared at the screen before doubling over onto the ground, holding her stomach tight.
"Oh god. I can't believe this." Her shoulders shook.
The giggles finally spilled out, turning into a cackle. "Oh god. I almost started laughing! That was too perfect. It's a shame I wasn't there to see the dumb look on her cunt face. Oh boo hoo. My loving mommy and daddy are dead!"
With a labored effort she pulled herself up, looking for her keys, her back still vibrating with giggles. As the television roared behind her, she glanced reflectively at the ceiling. "Huh. I wonder if I will make it time to see her stupid face when she finds her boyfriend in the bathroom." | Erika stared at the phone. There were no clocks in the room, but she knew the time. She found it surprising, the way her mind worked right at this moment. She seemed to be taking in every little unimportant detail. Her breathing was steadier then she expected, she wasn't upset, or scared, not even sad.
She reached out her hand, and rested it on the receiver. She counted her breathes. Three... Two... One...
brRRcct- "Sarah?"
"Damn it Erika. Don't do that." her voice was strung tight, like her vocal cords were rubbed raw. Or perhaps about to snap.
"Was it..?" That was all Erika was able to utter. No tears, no pain, but something *something* deep down began to fray apart.
"Yes." Her voice hitched. Erika' heart did the same. "Exactly as they said it would."
The color drained from Erika's face.
Even if they knew precisely, they deserved far better a death.
"So what do we do?" Erika's hands began to shake. Her black hair clung to her tears on her face. Pain and suffering, mixed with desperation.
For the first time in her life, nobody in her family knew what happened next. |
|
[WP] A girl receives a phone call from her sister that their parents were just killed in a horrific incident. Write that conversation. | Her phone buzzed angrily against the wooden table. Her eyes flickered for a second away from the reality TV show, and then after a second, she lazily flicked the screen, taking the call.
"'Ello?"
"Oh god. Lily. Thank god. You picked up. Oh god. M-Mom. Dad. They- Oh god."
Her back tightened and she sat up. "Rose? What's wrong?"
"T-there's blood everywhere. Mom - Dad - they are missing their heads!" Her voice dissolved into ragged sobs.
Lily hesitated. She stared for a second at the laughing faces on television before shaking herself back to reality. A breath slowly left her mouth. "Stop joking. It isn't funny."
"Why would I joke about this?!" Rose's voice came out as a shriek. "Their heads are gone! Oh god!"
"Stay right there. Call the cops. I am coming over." Lily quickly quit the call. She stared at the screen before doubling over onto the ground, holding her stomach tight.
"Oh god. I can't believe this." Her shoulders shook.
The giggles finally spilled out, turning into a cackle. "Oh god. I almost started laughing! That was too perfect. It's a shame I wasn't there to see the dumb look on her cunt face. Oh boo hoo. My loving mommy and daddy are dead!"
With a labored effort she pulled herself up, looking for her keys, her back still vibrating with giggles. As the television roared behind her, she glanced reflectively at the ceiling. "Huh. I wonder if I will make it time to see her stupid face when she finds her boyfriend in the bathroom." | This is my first serious post. Sorry it's so long. I feel like it's kind of cheesy, but my friend had this happen to her and I'm loosely writing it off of her story. Names are changed of course.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Before she opened her eyes, Laine knew something was wrong. She had woken out of sleep after tossing and turning restlessly, trying to pin point this strange feeling of sadness that weighed on her chest. Everything was fine with Ryan. Despite being married for a year, they were still newlyweds still enjoying the cutesy 'Honeymoon Phase'. Her older sister was going to med school and had moved up state while the younger one had recently received a scholarship for marching band. Things were even going well at her job. The older coworkers had stopped stalking her like prey, waiting to correct her minor mess ups.
But if everything was going so well, where was this feeling coming from? A bad dream? Her subconscious?
She finally chalked it up to one of her wacky feelings and tried to brush it off. She checked her cellphone on her her bedside table. 11:24. She let out a sigh. **Only asleep for an hour? Are you kidding?** She thought, rubbing her eyes. Being careful not to wake her sleeping husband, she quietly shuffled to the bathroom. Usually, a warm bath put her right to sleep. Maybe that's all she needed?
Fifteen minutes later, Ryan opened the door. Her cell phone was in one of his hands and a clouded look had settled in his eyes. "Your sister is on the phone." He held the flat phone out to her.
Laine took the phone and wedged it between her shoulder and damp hair. "It's a little late to be calling and bugging me, don't you think?" She laughed into the receiver.
There was a pause that seemed to deflate the small bit of humor she had held onto that night. "Lainie..." Her sister rasped into the phone.
She frowned, confused to hear her younger sister's voice. "Cora? Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"
"Lainie, there was an accident. M-mom and dad are gone."
"I'm sure they'll come back Co-"
"No, you don't understand." Sobs broke apart her sentences. "They're dead Laine. The cops just showed up. They were driving home. On the overpass by Cobb Creek, near the old mill. A car in the other lane swerved into their lane and pushed them over the guardrail into the creek."
Laine felt as if she had been stuffed with rocks. A pain she had never felt before dug deep into her chest, she thought her heart may stop. Tears welled in her dark green eyes. She pulled the stopper on the tub and swallowed, trying to find her voice. "I'm on my way home. I'll let Elissa know. I love you."
Ryan grabbed a towel, wrapped her up in his arms, and for the first time since their wedding day, held his wife while she wept. |
|
[WP] A Secret Service Agent recounts how different US Presidents reacted on learning America's deepest secrets. | They all swear.
No, honestly, they all do. By our little insider lore, everybody from Jefferson on has cursed like sailors, un... unleashed such vertiginous torrents of abysmal, miasmal filth, is the traditional expression, that if there was a reporter present they wouldn't be elected a dogcatcher, not in a million years.
Not that we have a million years; and, uh, in my time the swearing has become coarser and darker with every president.
That's not a racist thing. The last--- the latest one just happens to be black. I'm sure the next one will make the wallpapers curl. Or maybe it's just me; isn't it always true that the world seems to get ruder as you get older? Haha!
But anyway, my experience. Let me see. The Bushes were near identical, except the younger kept using "Florida" as a cussword. Like in, "Oh for Florida's sake! Florida this Floridan flow Florida up your Florida Montana, Dick!"
We tell the Vee Pees first. They can take a week in the hahahouse and nobody notices. If the Pee then starts dribbling over the carpets, we have someone who can take care of things.
Anyway. Clinton's bits included "stick this lava up yours and smoke it"; makes no sense but hey, it's a no speechwriter zone here. No reporters either. Now which team did you say you---
Oh wait hey this I got to tell you, I've heard they told Truman only after FDR was dead even if he was Vee Pee, because he was a nobody, so one day he's told about the bomb, and the next about this. We call it the Mushroom Over Easy. He was all like, can't we bomb it? Seriously!
No, of course we can't, that'd be the worst thing we could do. I think there's some work done in solar, but that's just to buy us a few more years. I can't even imagine being someone like... like Taft, quaking there without anything that could be done, no tech, nothing. Or, God, Jefferson! It's not even America yet, and these two guys come back, and they say... look, we found this thing way over in the west... in Wyoming.
Oh! I think, personally, I think JFK wanted us to go to space to escape the fucking thing. Brilliant bastard! And Johnson... I've heard he wanted to take over Vietnam, move the four closest states there. That's nonsense. How do you take someone from Montana and plonk them into tropic Vietfuckingnam? Plus evacuating four states still leaves forty-six to burn, right?
What?
The thing?
Well the Yellowstone thing. Imminent supervolcano. Any time within the next... hang on, why're you writing this down?
You're not a reporter are you?
Hey! Come back.
Hey!
Ahh... *florida*. | "Any threes there Jim?"
"Go fish Bob"
"Arses"
"So ... how did the new guy react?"
"To what, Jim?"
"You know, to THE NEWS. All the secret crap. I had to tell the last guy. Acted like a kid finding out Santa was real. Was so weird to see someone so happy to know all that"
"Well, he got real quiet. Asked how long we've been in contact. Told him since 1945. Turns out they didn't like the atomic program. Then they saw how far we where, and what the goal was. Then they left us alone. So, not so bad"
"Got any eights?"
"Go fish."
"Not too bad then. How long you think this guy is going to last?"
"Eh, no idea. I'm putting money on some arsehole taking a few shots at him mind."
"Yeah. Probably. You want a beer?"
"Sure, get it from the other cooler. Some idiot started keeping chimera samples in that fridge"
"Alright" |
|
[WP] A police officer and an arrested criminal manage to survive the apocalypse in their police car, the officer is conflicted about trusting and freeing the criminal as they struggle to survive. | "You ever hear the story of the scorpion and the frog?"
"What? Y'all crazy. World's gone kaput and you're hearing yappin' on about a frog."
"My momma told me it, long time ago. Shows who people really are."
"I ain't no frog man!"
"It's a metaphor." The office shifted in the car, turning in his seat. "Anyway, you're the scorpion."
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I'm a scorpion, that's better."
"So this scorpion, it wants to cross a river."
"Why?"
"So it can buy some crack, doesn't matter. The scorpion gets to the river edge and asks a frog if it will carry it across the river."
"Why don't it just swim?"
"Christ!" The perp lent back in the seat, cuffed hands raised in defence. "The scorpion can't swim, the frog can. Get it?"
"I get it."
"The frog's like, 'Why should I take you? You're just gonna kill me.'"
"What if the scorpion just wanna get across the river?"
The officer sighed. The perp zipped a finger across his mouth.
"The frog finally say alright, the scorpion hops on its back and it begins swimming out across the river."
"See my man, this is us! You're the frog and you can get me outta here!"
"They get to the midpoint of the river, the deepest bit..."
"Enough with the fucking story!"
"And the scorpion stings the frog."
"What? That dude crazy. They're both gonna drown now. Why he gone done that?"
"The frog stops kicking, it's body dying and they both start sinking. And the frog says to the scorpion, 'Why did you do that? Now we're both going to die.'"
"You're not gonna let me go are you?"
"And the scorpion, it turns to the frog and it says, 'It's in my nature. I can't help it.'"
"They both die?"
"They both died."
"Why'd the scorpion do that Officer? He coulda waited 'til they got to the other side."
"It's always the same Lenny. It's in your nature." | “I’m telling you man, I am one hundred percent completely innocent!” Daniel yelled as he slammed his handcuffed fists against the gate separating the front row of seats from the back. The officer did not turn his head or speak, but simply looked out the front window of the cruiser into the thunderstorm building outside.
“Look officer, I’ll be honest with you here. Let’s say I DID do what her friend says I did to her. Even in THAT case she’s just a girl. Why the fuck would I even think about doing that to you?” Daniel folded his arms and sighed heavily. “It’s not like I’m gay or anything. You’ll be totally safe with me, I promise. We’re both in this toget-”
“No. We are not,” stated the officer flatly.
“What the fuck do you mean we are not!?” Daniel screamed slouching to slam his feet on the steadfast separator. “You heard for yourself on the radio, they’re all dead! We’re all there is.”
The officer’s hands tightened on the grip of the steering wheel, his face emotionless. His eyes remained empty of the life that had inhabited them only hours ago. Tears began to drip down the side of his face as his lip quivered in anger. He whipped his head around to face Daniel, still struggling in the back of the car.
Before Daniel even knew what was happening, the officer had ripped open the door and pulled him out onto the cold, wet mud placing him on his knees.
“Finally coming to your senses I see” Daniel snickered as a smile crept across his face.
“I guess you could say that,” the officer said as he turned his head, closed his eyes and fired his gun into the back of Daniel’s head killing him instantly.
The officer collapsed on the ground as he clutched the locket that hung from his neck. He opened it up and looked at the withered picture of the girl inside. The life returned to his eyes for a brief moment as he whispered
“Rest in peace now dear.” |
|
You were born with a thin and resilient film along the outside of your nervous system! Impervious to interfering brain waves and substantially resistant to pain.
Who took over everyone's mind? What group? What government? What SPECIES? How did they do it? What are their motives? What are their plans?
| [WP] The world falls victim to mind control, and due to genetic mutation, you are unaffected. You don't know if you're the only one, or what you are going to do next. | *The following posts are taken from an online blog. Post dates follow the Gregorian Calendar and some posts contain language considered offensive at the time of posting.*
 
*Apr 12 2015*
Everyone’s so distant today. :(
 
*Apr 13 2015*
Mark hasn’t spoken to me all day. I wish he would just tell me what’s wrong. I can’t help if he doesn’t communicate. Why take it out on me?
 
*Apr 14 2015*
Something is seriously wrong. People are more than just distant. I couldn’t put my finger on it over the weekend, but today... On the way to work it occurred to me just how peaceful everything was. Sitting in rush hour traffic and there was just... peace. No horns no jacked up radios just peace.
Everyone is behaving just like Mark. It’s like they’re all under some kind of spell. I just left the office and no one batted an eye. No one has called wondering where I am.
And it’s everyone. I spent most of yesterday evening checking for cameras, I got it into my head I was being Punk’d. I’m waiting desperately for someone to ask me ‘Are you scared?’ Because I should be... and I am. But if it’s a trick it’s one hell of a trick. I can’t find a single new social post anywhere on the internet. No one is answering their phones, no one is answering Skype.
I just tried checking the news. The anchors are just sitting there. Staring. They’re not saying anything!
What. The. Fuck.
Is there anybody out there?
 
*Apr 19 2015*
What would do something like this? To control and entire species of sentient creatures and do nothing but have them continue their daily routines. It’s been a few days since I last posted, nothing has changed. Everyone is just going through the motions. They wake, eat, go to work and come home again.
Two days ago I was just watching them at the grocery store. The checkout lines now a master class in item processing efficiency. Yes, they all still shop, and the workers still take payment. The only words I’ve heard live since this whole thing started are the dispassionate declarations of sum totals. I let my anger out at an old man picking tinned beans off a shelf. It was as if I didn’t even exist.
It’s hard. Mark still sleeps next to me. Most mornings I wake to find myself snuggled up to him, as if nothing has changed. But things *have* changed, he no longer snuggles back. I think tonight I will take the couch. I just can’t.
Someone please tell me what’s going on. This isn’t funny.
 
*Apr 23 2015*
I have started conducting experiments. There must be some kind of limit to what people will tolerate before snapping out of it. Today I escalated from verbal to physical harassment. You should see how they react, or rather how they don’t. I will shove someone as hard as I am able and they will stumble momentarily before resuming their prior activity. It’s fascinating. Stand in their way and they’ll just walk around you. In the moment I’m always paranoid that the person will suddenly ask me what I think I’m doing, before the men in white coats come and swiftly take me away.
Upside, I walked out of the grocery store with a full bag of items and no one stopped me. I haven’t been to work in days and no one has called, not even to tell me I’m fired. I won’t be going back. Too creepy.
Free food and no work I could get used to though. :)
 
*Apr 24 2015*
They’re still people, I have to believe that, and I don’t want to hurt anyone. But just shoving and impeding people isn’t working. I have to be more scientific about this. I thought perhaps the shock of pain would wake someone up.
I was wrong. Slap, punch, kick... Not so much as an “Excuse me.” It’s funny how quickly you can go from being hesitant, to almost enjoying the primal relief the violence has, especially under such frustrating circumstances. I must try to keep that in check.
 
*Apr 26 2015*
I couldn’t stand watching him sit silently eating cereal in the morning, so yesterday I hid the cereal. He made toast. Fuck you and fuck your toast. I want him back, the real him, not this cruel reminder.
This morning I woke early and tied him to the bed. He’s in there now. I thought maybe if I could bring a halt to the routine it might change something. He struggled against the bindings for about 5 measly seconds before accepting his new circumstances. Now he just lies there, impotent. Perhaps whoever or whatever is doing all this will notice his break protocol and I’ll finally get to confront them.
 
*Apr 29 2015*
I’m a horrible person. Today I went to bathe him and unwittingly discovered he was still... *responsive*... to certain stimuli. I used him him there and then. I’m not proud of it, but until you have lived this you will never understand what it’s like to lose so much intimacy so suddenly. This is so fucked up.
I know now he isn’t coming back. None of them are coming back.
 
*May 04 2015*
I’ve got nothing left to lose. It’s desperate measures time. I let Mark’s place holder go back to doing it’s ever so important job of whatever the fuck people do at warehouses now that no one wants anything. Earlier I wondered what exactly the UPS vans still driving around were actually doing.
I ordered one of those animal control poles off of Amazon. The whole system still functions. This morning the doorbell rang and there he was, void of expression, package and clipboard in hand. I signed and off he went. Maybe these place holders still buy stuff I don’t know.
I caught a woman. She’s vaguely familiar, just a face around the neighbourhood I guess. She’s locked in the basement now. There are things I need to try that I couldn’t bring myself to try on place holder Mark. I should be down there doing it now but I’m a coward. I need a hard drink first.
 
*May 05 2015*
If they feel pain, they don’t show it.
 
*May 06 2015*
I never pictured myself googling ‘how to dispose of a body’, I wonder if it still raises an alert somewhere. I wonder what law enforcement even does any more. No one I’ve fucked with has called on them.
She was a lot heavier going out than coming in, I didn’t consider that. I hoped I might see some kind of spark relight as the end overcame, but her dead eyes just stayed dead. Maybe they are all dead. Maybe it’s some kind of virus that kills the conscious part of the brain, and only I am immune to it. No it can’t be, too sudden.
Someone give whoever invented vodka a medal.
 
*May 08 2015*
My sights now are set firmly on pissing off whatever is behind this shit show. If they want everything running like clockwork well, I’m gonna jam a great big spanner in the works. Maybe once they’re missing a few pawns they might react. I realise now that they’re all as good as dead already... and that’s liberating.
 
*May 15 2015*
I’ve lost count. I’m having nightmares. When will they stop me?????
Please just someone somewhere let me know that it isn’t all just fucking fucked...
 
***Oct 22 2018***
Haha wow I forgot about this blog. Reading all the past entries has been a real cute trip down memory lane. I guess this one’s for you future archaeologists, *human or other.*
I wish I could offer some kind of closure, but hell, you probably know more than me. I never have discovered the acting force behind all this. Certainly whatever it is it doesn’t care one iota about the people it controls. I’ve killed so many. So fucking many...
Tonight is movie night. My pick. I’ve never been about the whole comic movie dealio but... well Mark loves the Avengers so why not? After all, it will be our last night together. I’ve decided there is nothing more I can do, so I’m going to go travel. I mean fuck it, I can do pretty much whatever I want right?
Before I go though, there is one last thing I need to do. I’m going to set Mark free... finally. It’s out of pure selfishness that I haven’t done it sooner. If there’s any part of him still in there I know it wants this ordeal over. After all, what kind of life is work / eat / sleep for a human being?
 
*No further posts were made. This currently remains the only first hand account of the Concensus ever to be recovered.* | It's funny how easy it is to get away with....... pretty much anything in a world where everyone is under mind control.
It started in Laos, of all places. A brilliant scientist managed to figure out how to transmit human though to machines. The part that began this horror show was the fact that his research showed how the mind worked with far more accuracy than any prior studies. Laos, or rather its insane leader whose name I can't recall, quickly kidnapped the poor man. Within 3 weeks they had put together the first of the Mind Suppressor beacons, and the world had fallen to once insignificant Laos in a matter of months.
However, something strange happens when the majority of humanity thinks the same way. There is sort of a *reverberation* among the last of the free-thinkers, and they slowly start to join the rest of the mindless masses. Even the government of Laos, including the bastard how started all this and the scientist, fell victim to this phenomena.
I, however, seem to be different. When there were still a few of us left, everyone else often commented on the pull they felt to act mindlessly. I did not. I felt no pull, no urge to join the empty minded masses.
Since then, I have discovered that I can do anything with impunity.
People still go on with their lives, eating, working, and even inventing. But there is no independent thought behind their actions, no personality. It is like living in a world full of robots. No one says anything if I take something, whether it is food or a new laptop, and I can pick any empty house I want to live in. They even make new video games, so I'm not totally bored.
So I have everything I could want, without even having to work for it, I should have no problems, right? *Sigh*. A world full of robots is damn lonely. I can't even have sex, because no girl is even *able* to talk to me, and I'm not about to resort to rape. The Internet is silent, no one has an opinion to voice or a need for entertainment.
I don't know how, but I have to find someone. |
[WP] Using exactly 50 words, tell me a complete story. | Today's the day.
Wednesday.
Today I will tell the girl of my dreams that I love her.
My watch reads 7:56AM.
She'll be here soon.
My fear grows.
I grasp the rose in my pocket.
8:00am, she'll walk through.
"Hi", she said, passing by, with her friend next to her.
Tomorrow's the day. Thursday. | (An example, perhaps?)
Clean, tidy, and organized. Just how she liked it. Everything exactly where she thought it should be.
It didn't matter to her that God had put hands on wrists on arms. She preferred hands sewn onto backs.
And so, with a needle, some thread, and the occasional gunshot, she reorganized. |
|
[WP] Using exactly 50 words, tell me a complete story. | Eggs and toast.
Same shit, every day.
I look up at the sun with one thought.
Today.
Today, I will change my life.
I will talk to my kids.
I will hug my wife.
.. most importantly.
I will smile. I will fucking smile.
The morning alarm goes off- I’m awake. Tomorrow.
| (An example, perhaps?)
Clean, tidy, and organized. Just how she liked it. Everything exactly where she thought it should be.
It didn't matter to her that God had put hands on wrists on arms. She preferred hands sewn onto backs.
And so, with a needle, some thread, and the occasional gunshot, she reorganized. |
|
[WP] "I'm coughing up blood and it ain't mine" | The blood spilled out of my mouth. As I had destroyed the soldier sent to kill me, by ripping out his throat, some blood had went into my lungs.
I was the last of my kind, thanks to the "brave" and "courageous" soldiers. So what, I was a vampire. I had never hurt a person before the war began.
They had hunted us down because we were unknown to them. But we hit back like a rolling train. The secrets scared them more than death, so they chose to embrace the later. By starting this war they had ensured the genocide of an entire species, for neither one of us would stop fighting till the other was dead.
This lead to where I am now. In the middle of a war zone, standing above a dead human. His blood was sweet, maybe O-negative. But it got caught in my throat, making me cough it up onto the bloodied grass. It stuck to my throat and felt warm.
I cried at the bodies of my kind, who lay among the dead. It was chilling, seeing them mixed in so perfectly with the ones they killed. And I was the last. And the blood I coughed up was of the last human.
I shed a tear, for now both of us were dead. | The response was no. I was adamant. I would not take no for an answer. I was warned about the risks, the filth, but I wasn't really listening. I went ahead and did it anyways. The chance to save millions with this one sided effort. I would not be stopped.
I let my emotions get the best of me. The deed was done. Hours later I began to feel sick. Coughing up this blood in the stretcher the paramedics asked me what happened? You did what!? They asked incredulously while looking at me with disgust. "I couldn't help it" I said. "I love her THAT much" |
|
[WP] "I'm coughing up blood and it ain't mine" | I'm coughing up blood that isn't mine,
A finger of fear shivers down my spine,
Just a week ago I'd been feeling fine,
But, now there's blood that is not mine.
The patient had been very sick,
The Ebola virus deadly quick,
I, the doctor they had picked,
To handle blood that was not mine.
Her eyes blazed red in slackened face,
I took note of jaundice in her case,
And my pulse sped up its pace,
When I saw blood that was not mine.
Her airway blocked with a choking rasp,
I searched for vitals as she gasped,
Her fingers moving - unclenched, clasped,
She vomited blood that was not mine.
Up it came, this fountain of red,
Speckling my eyes, my mouth, her bed,
Then the patient lay still; dead,
And I spat blood that was not mine.
Several days have passed me by,
With headaches, nausea - 'Why me!' I cry,
For all agree that I will die,
Coughing blood that is not mine. | The response was no. I was adamant. I would not take no for an answer. I was warned about the risks, the filth, but I wasn't really listening. I went ahead and did it anyways. The chance to save millions with this one sided effort. I would not be stopped.
I let my emotions get the best of me. The deed was done. Hours later I began to feel sick. Coughing up this blood in the stretcher the paramedics asked me what happened? You did what!? They asked incredulously while looking at me with disgust. "I couldn't help it" I said. "I love her THAT much" |
|
[WP] "I'm coughing up blood and it ain't mine" | I'm coughing up blood that isn't mine,
A finger of fear shivers down my spine,
Just a week ago I'd been feeling fine,
But, now there's blood that is not mine.
The patient had been very sick,
The Ebola virus deadly quick,
I, the doctor they had picked,
To handle blood that was not mine.
Her eyes blazed red in slackened face,
I took note of jaundice in her case,
And my pulse sped up its pace,
When I saw blood that was not mine.
Her airway blocked with a choking rasp,
I searched for vitals as she gasped,
Her fingers moving - unclenched, clasped,
She vomited blood that was not mine.
Up it came, this fountain of red,
Speckling my eyes, my mouth, her bed,
Then the patient lay still; dead,
And I spat blood that was not mine.
Several days have passed me by,
With headaches, nausea - 'Why me!' I cry,
For all agree that I will die,
Coughing blood that is not mine. | No! Not like this! Jumped to my feet; sprinted the walkway.
No! Not here! All smiles faded. Water and slick grass under my feet.
Now on my knees. Pounding, pounding again and again.
Screams all around.
A blaring siren swift approaching.
Kiss me back!
"Let go! LET GO OF ME!"
"It's no use, she's already dead."
A cascade of coughs and tears.
My love on the sidewalk, a bullet through the neck.
My mouth tasted of death and revenge.
I'm coughing up blood and it should be mine. |
|
[WP]: write something that will make me say "what the fuck?" out loud | She smiled and then turned to lick the hairy, sweaty back of the man who stood next to her holding the umbrella. A chimp wearing a tuxedo rode a tricycle through the room hurling bananas. That was when the tuba players turned as one and shot out a purple spray of sweet tasting liquid out of their brass instruments. The accordian player turned and said, "Uoy evol I." How many crabs did it take to power a fax machine? | There was a knock on the door. Outside it a tall, dark-haired woman stood, silently observing me. I stepped back and gestured for her to enter, and she obeyed, shutting the door behind her. Her hands then moved down to the front of her pants, which she began to unbutton with the expert motions that whisper of long experience. As she pulled her pants down to just above her knees, her immense penis started to rise toward me, until I was looking directly into its vertical, pointy-teethed grin. I knew that I must not flinch, or my one shot at greatness was forever gone. Eventually, as its jaws parted, the five-pronged tongue slithered out and formed a sort of fist, its index finger beckoning me to come closer. I knew what I must do. Without fliching, I caught the fingers in a firm handshake, and was violently whisked of to the land of beautiful dreams. |
|
[WP]: write something that will make me say "what the fuck?" out loud | Grandpa put me up on his lap.
"Did I ever tell you the time I got a sinus infection for a whole straight damn fucking week, sonny boy??"
"No papa, you never told me thaaat story!!"
"It was a hot as a mother fuck summer day and I just turned 22. I was having a few beers with the boys in our apartment when someone brought over a bottle of rum. Boy oh boy we got sloshed as all hell. Shooting back shots like I did in the navy while killing them fucking Japs! God do I hate Japs. This small party we's were having was a blast but everyone passed out! I was being a pussy the whole night and kept dumping out my shot glasses while no one was looking so I really wasnt feeling much of anything. So hell, my double vision wasn't all that bad, I think I might go get me some Taco Bell!"
"Buuut grandpa there were no taco bells back theeeen!!"
"Shut the fuck up little boy yes there were. Dont question your elders. On the trip there, out of the corner of my eye, I see the biggest most blackest most beautiful hooker standing on the sidewalk that I have ever seen in my entire damn life. She was smoking two cigarettes at the same time with a half eaten gyro in her hand and I knew I had a keeper. 'How much pretty lady?' 'How much you got handsome?' 'I got about five fifty and some mints. What will that get me?' 'That'll get me to take you to China town and back with the flick of my tongue' 'Oh boy lady get the fuuuck in then!' I took her back to my place and quickly ran into my roommates bedroom while holding her hand. 'What do you want first sugar?' She asked me. I hesitated and carefully thought out my plan of attack. 'Hmm, could you sit your big ol fat ass on my face?' 'uhhh I dont know if you would want that...' 'I think i do!' 'Alright...its your face...' With that I laid down on the mattress and she pulled down her skirt. The smell of fish was creeping through the air as she hovered her giant Starship Enterprise booty over my head. 'Lay it down on me girl!' As she lowered it down I saw a white ooze seeping out of her panties, dripping on my face. It tasted like old oatmeal. I felt hairy roast beef scrape up against my face as the smell of fish burned my nose. She was suffocating me in all her nasty glory. And for a week after that I had a bad bad sinus infection. But I did have fun." | There was a knock on the door. Outside it a tall, dark-haired woman stood, silently observing me. I stepped back and gestured for her to enter, and she obeyed, shutting the door behind her. Her hands then moved down to the front of her pants, which she began to unbutton with the expert motions that whisper of long experience. As she pulled her pants down to just above her knees, her immense penis started to rise toward me, until I was looking directly into its vertical, pointy-teethed grin. I knew that I must not flinch, or my one shot at greatness was forever gone. Eventually, as its jaws parted, the five-pronged tongue slithered out and formed a sort of fist, its index finger beckoning me to come closer. I knew what I must do. Without fliching, I caught the fingers in a firm handshake, and was violently whisked of to the land of beautiful dreams. |
|
Thinks centaur, werewolf, drider, mermaids and so on.
It will be fun watching the vegetarian wake up as a half-tiger. | [WP] Everyone on earth suddenly wakes up as half-animals. | Radiation? Divine intervention? Honestly, I’ve no clue. All I know is that when I awoke this morning, massive shit had went down all across the world. And if I were to be more honest, I never expected such a thing to happen while I was living in my parent’s basement of all things.
You see, my wife, twin son and daughter, and I have been sleeping in my parent’s basement while we saved up for a downpayment on a home. Fortunately my kids were both at their own sleepovers. Unfortunately they were both at someone else’s house, and driving was definitely going to be a challenge for many people.
Alright, now you know some unwanted and probably unneeded information about me. So lets get to what actually happened, shall we?
So, it being a weekend, I was looking forward to sleeping in, but something brushed my leg and woke me up. As I sat up, I shivered in the cold air that drifted throughout the basement. My wife lay beside me snoring, so I slowly and silently got out of bed to make my way to the bathroom.
After I finished using the bathroom I made my way back out to my wife. Nothing had seemed off to me, but in retrospect I can’t believe I was so oblivious. I hit my chest, trying to distract myself from the heartburn I was having. The pizza last night was a bad idea.
I climbed back in bed and cuddled with my wife, only to find a very odd, slippery feeling against my legs. I lifted up the covers to find my wife’s lower half comprised of a mermaid tail. A lesser man may have yelled like a frightened six year old girl, but I assure you I did not. However, my wife promptly woke up right after I saw her new body.
I’m not proud of it, but I did laugh, a lot, when she tried to get out of bed, only to fall on the floor and flounder about. The wife was not very appreciative of my laughter, however, and I have not heard the end of it since.
Okay, so I’m perfectly normal, but I’m staring at my wife who became a mermaid. And then I hear running and the door to the basement opens up. It was then that I realized both my wife and I were naked, and I had to rush to toss the sheets over to her while I dived behind a piece of furniture. They really should have knocked. It turns out, however, that everyone around the world had woken up naked that morning, so I guess my wife and I weren’t the only ones in a similar predicament.
“Big bro,” my younger brother shouted, wearing only boxers. “Dude, it’s insane. Everyone’s woken up as some half-human half-animal hybrid. Some are classic fantasy creatures, others are just a weird mesh of animal and human.”
“Dude, knock!” I yelled.
“So what did you guys get?” my brother asked. He was really irritating me, but I think before the big change I was more of a push over too. Nowadays I’d… Well, maybe I wouldn’t go that far, but back to the story.
“Get?” I asked. “I’m not any sort of animal. Just human.”
My wife had been silent this whole time, but she slowly lifted up the sheets and revealed her fin, at which my brother started to dance around like a 12 year old girl who just got tickets to some boy band concert or whatever the kids are into these days.
“Mermaid, nice,” my brother said. “Bro, check it. I’m going to kill it with the ladies now.”
I then proceeded to watch three things happen. First, I got to see my brother transform into a werewolf. Second, I got to see my wife pass out from seeing said transformation. And third, I got to see what a werewolf looks like with a dumb look plastered across their face and drooling when the sheets covering my wife’s nude breasts fell off.
I really should have realized what happened to me at that point. I was a lot angrier than normal. Plus, the heartburn was killing me. You’d think I would have popped an antacid by then. Anyways, when I found myself having a chokehold on a werewolf, I knew something was up. My brother couldn’t overpower me, no matter what he did.
“Kids,” I heard my dad shouting. “Stop fighting. We can hear it from up here. And by the way, we’re coming down. I think we all need to talk.”
I let go of my brother and he transformed back into a human.
“Bro, what the hell was that?” he exclaimed. “No human should be that powerful, but you don’t even look like any kind of animal. What are you?”
“I’ve got no clue,” I replied, more interested in the fact that my dad was now a centaur and my mom was already riding on his back down the stairs.
“Son,” my dad said as he looked at me. “Your kids are on the video chat thing. Your mom has the computer. Honey, hand it over to him now, okay?”
Lets say that I didn’t expect what I saw next. You just don’t want to see certain things. Especially if it’s your mother. But, as I guess everyone was in a scramble for clothes that morning, there was no hiding it. I accepted the computer from my mother as she dismounted my dad *shiver*, something I hoped to never say. My wife had just woken up too.
My mom had black and white spots all over her skin, but protruding from her stomach was what appeared to be a cow’s udder. Which would not have been that horrifying. Except that my now centaur dad sported a rather noticeable milk mustache.
I turned away and blinked my eyes a few times, but I never have gotten that image out of my mind. By the time I made it over to my wife, she had covered herself up again. I noticed something odd this time, though. It was as if she glowed now, and there was this amazing attractiveness to her that was never there before. I also regret to say that I told my wife this exact thing later, to which I am still groveling at her fin to forgive me for. I’ve found mermaids hold grudges, a lot more than humans do.
Anyways, first we speak with my daughter, at which my wife passes out again. However, I am able to catch the sheets and keep her covered this time. My daughter is very cute, her ears replaced with fuzzy panda ears. She also seemed to be able to turn into an adorable panda-human like version of herself. Oddly enough, she now could speak Chinese and eat bamboo too. Even for all the strangeness that happened that day, that one still takes the cake, as most people didn’t get some extra abilities aside from their animal forms.
Overall, by the time my wife woke up, I had figured out that my daughter was pleased with her transformation. Finally I got her twin brother, my son, on the computer. He was, to say the least, not pleased. Even I was a bit taken aback. His eyes were glazed over, and a lot of flabby skin was hanging from his tiny little arms. And then he put a little effort into it and transformed his arms into wings before letting them turn back into arms. He was, literally, batman. Although he gained echolocation, he became blind and, even though my wife still gives me flack for it, just plain ugly. I mean, I don’t want to be mean to my kid, but yeah, a bat-human hybrid turns out pretty ugly. The only good news is that I’ve heard chicks dig echolocation. And the bad news is that my son turned out to be gay, so that doesn’t help.
And so the story of that crazy morning ends. Man, I don’t think I’ll ever forget… Oops, you probably want to know what I became, huh? Alright, alright, I get it. You really want to know. Seriously, you’re nagging me more than my wife.
So, after having a very uncomfortable family talk, I noticed my brother was looking at my wife a little too much. Turns out her being a mermaid makes it hard for any man without a lot of willpower to not be extremely attracted to her. Of course if they knew how angry, cold, and unforgiving mermaids really are, they might not feel the same way. But I didn’t know this back then, so I got really pissed and started wrestling with my brother. The heartburn had gotten even worse though, and I had to stop for a moment as I was really in pain. And then it happened. I should have realized it wasn’t heartburn. But who the hell would think such an animal existed?
My family stared in amazement as I let out the loudest belch of my life. It was so loud that the house actually shook. Which I suppose was the least of the house’s worries as the fire flowing from my mouth caused the roof of the basement to catch on fire. Fortunately we all got out of there and outside alive, but the house itself burned down. And when my wife gave me the first mermaid style look of disapproval, I felt so bad that I just wanted to fly away, at which point scales formed all over my skin and two wings protruded from my back. The heartburn started to come back, so I lifted off into the air and let the fire inside of me scorch the clouds. I was part dragon, and honestly I don’t think anyone could beat that.
-302 | I was woken by a tickling sensation on my nose. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes. Then I stopped, and looked down at my hands in horror.
They were covered in soft black fur, with only my palm and the undersides of my fingers left exposed. I realised that my arms were also covered in fur.
I scrambled off the bed and looked in my mirror. What I saw there nearly made me scream out loud.
My entire body was covered in the black fur, except for down the front of my torso and up around my mouth. I looked at my face. Oh God, my face. My nose had flattened like a cat's, and I had long white whiskers sprouting from my cheeks. My eyes, which had already been green, now had slitted catlike pupils. When I opened my mouth, my teeth were small and sharp. I noticed a pair of triangular ears twitching on either side of my head as well.
Feeling something in the back of my pyjama bottoms, I reached in and pulled out a long tail. It was growing from the base of my spine. With a little effort, I found I could move it around.
I looked back at my fur-covered face in the mirror and tried not to panic. The most important thing right now was to remain calm. I debated whether to show my parents. No, they would just freak out.
I couldn't just shave it all off. My eyes and nose would still be noticeable, as would my ears. Nor could I hide it until school was over. There was nothing for it.
I began to get dressed determinedly. If people were going to see me like this, then I would show them I wasn't afraid.
* * *
It relieved me massively when I stepped through the gates and saw that the same thing had happened to everyone else. There were several people with massive wings instead of arms just inside the gate, all trying to achieve flight for more than a few seconds (but failing miserably). One of them, a friend of mine called Anna, looked around as I approached.
She smiled and half-ran, half-flapped over to me. I saw that she had a massive swan's bill over her mouth. It somehow flexed when she spoke, allowing her to talk clearly.
'Isn't this great, Sabrina?' she said excitedly. 'Everyone's turned into half-animals!' She looked me up and down. 'So you became a cat? That's so cool! Let me see your tail!' I obliged, turning to show her and waving it in the air a little. I had cut a slit in the seat of my jeans to allow it to poke through.
'We'd better get to class,' I said. 'The bell is about to go.'
She nodded and we entered the school building. I saw many more animal hybrids as we walked through the corridors. One of the senior girls was trying to keep all four of her breasts in control as she retrieved books from her locker. Her skin was covered in large white and black patches. I guessed that meant she had become part cow.
Another student, a boy this time, was making his way across the ceiling when we entered the classroom. He waved at us upside down. Definitely gecko. We both turned to watch as my friend Belinda slithered into the classroom. Her skin was covered in light brown scales, but that wasn't the weird part. From the waist down, she had a long snake's body, nearly six metres long.
She smiled and stuck out a forked tongue at us playfully as she moved past and coiled herself up beside her seat. Then a clopping noise made us all turn as our teacher, Mr. Beckett, came into the room. He had tiny horns on his temples and hairy goat's legs with hooves at his feet.
He cleared his throat. 'Now, I'm sure you're all very surprised to see me and everyone else like this,' he said. 'We're trying to find out what caused this, but for now, we will have class as normal. Understand?'
We all nodded. Mr. Beckett turned to the whiteboard and began to write about Shakespeare. I slumped down on the desk. I couldn't wait till lunchtime.
* * *
Ever had lunch while a girl who's half fish from the waist down is sitting next to you? Well, I have now. She was lucky not to have developed gills, in my opinion. Otherwise she could have suffocated. But no, all she had was a two-metre long fish tail from the waist down that stuck out under the table. She told me she was having trouble getting around with it, but she was looking forward to getting home and into her parents' pool.
When I was finished, I put my tray in the receptacle and looked around. To my surprise, I was being gestured at by a girl at a table nearby. I came over and sat down, looking around at the other girls at the table.
They were all feline animals, I realised. There were two lionesses, a tigress, a panther (who was the one who had beckoned me over), and two other normal cats like me, one with tortoiseshell fur and the other with grey.
'Welcome to the Kitty Club!' said the panther girl, her ears twitching excitedly. I smiled back, revealing my pointed teeth.
'We're not calling ourselves that, Amy,' said the tiger girl. She looked down at me. 'I'm Gemma, by the way.'
'Hi,' I said. 'So how are you finding this animal thing?'
'Awful,' she said, gesturing to her plate. There was a small pile of chicken and beef on it. 'I'm supposed to be vegetarian!' She opened her mouth wide, so that we could all see her massive canine teeth. 'I can't even eat vegetables any more!'
'At least you're not part frog,' one of the lion girls said. 'I heard that Georgina turned into one of those poisonous ones you get in the Amazon? Long story short, no-one can touch her and she's stayed in bed all day.'
'You think that's bad?' put in the tortoiseshell. 'My brother got turned part dog and spent half the day coming up behind me and barking. I can't stop myself from running away.'
Suddenly the bell rang. I stood up. 'We've got P.E. now, haven't we?'
'Yeah. Bet there'll be someone who got turned part monkey and climbs all over the bars?'
I laughed along with the rest of them. This animal thing might not be so bad after all. |
[WP] During an excavation a strange crystal is dug up, magic suddenly floods back into the world. | There are few humans alive today who know the truth, the *entire* truth, of our history.
It was something we had not thought to question until last year. We had thought, until then, that what we knew about our origins was correct, that we were seeing the whole picture. But there is only uncertainty now. The picture, it seems, is much larger than we once thought.
Jake Berry was one of these few, and was very proud because of it. He was also a very sensible, logical man, who could solve even the most challenging of problems with ease, and most of the time, thought nothing of anything which could not be proven with science or evidence. It was whilst Jake was studying Archaeology at Oxford, however, that by chance he stumbled upon an old tale, which intrigued him in a way he could *not* explain. For years it ate at him, until finally word got round about a young girl, of whom he knew nothing else, who proved everything he had learned to be far more than a story.
-
The excavation had been going on for weeks now. The whole world seemed to know about it, too- there was media coverage like no one in the industry had ever quite seen. Jake couldn’t blame them. Not for the entirety of this year had the news of what happened in England died down. It popped up in the news a few times a week: conspiracy theories… people wanting answers… lumbering blame onto the authorities, as if they were at fault. Jake sipped his coffee as he stared blankly out at the site.
It was damp and dreary; a downpour was the last thing they needed. The ground had become some gloopy mix of rock and water, which came up to people’s ankles as they waded through. By now, most of the ruins had been dug up. Jake imagined that once it had been a great temple, just like the one in Cambridge had been. It was speculated, too, that they had been built underground hundreds of years ago as ‘safe houses’, though for this, Jake had only his stories to look to. All of which he was certain for now was that these were built by their ancestors long ago, under the reign of a great warrior…
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Jake jumped, startled by the voice, spraying an amount of coffee over himself and, in the process of turning to see where it had come from, knocking the rest of it on the floor.
‘Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-’
‘No worries…’ he grumbled, looking at the girl. She couldn’t have been any older than seventeen, and had the most startlingly blue eyes he had ever seen, with brown hair reaching far below her shoulders and a near-perfectly rounded face. ‘So, journalist? Press? What are you?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ she said sounding somewhat amused, ‘I- I actually believe you may have heard of me. Here…’ they exchanged a rather uncomfortable moment of eye contact, before Jake realised after several seconds that he no longer felt hot coffee on his jeans. Stranger still, was that, as though a tape being played in reverse, the rest of it was rising up from the floor, and settling back into the mug like it had never moved.
‘You’re-’
‘Yeah, I’m her. My name is Rose. I believe you’re Jake Berry?’
He nodded. ‘But what… people thought you were-’
‘-dead? I know. I made sure of that.’ The girl smiled.
‘*I* knew you weren't. You were with Them, weren't you?’
‘Yes.’ He paused, rubbing his face in thought.
‘And all those times you disappeared as a kid… I assume you were with Them?’
‘I've known of the other world since I was thirteen. Ever since I’ve known, yes, I’ve been living amongst Them.’ She sighed, and pulled what had been a concealed chain from around her neck, on the end of which was a pendant. A stone which matched her eyes. ‘Jumping between worlds is tiring, but when you’re like me, you don’t really have much of a choice, you know.’
‘Oh, I know.’ He muttered, staring at the pendant. ‘May I?’
She moved closer, handed him the necklace without a word, and watched as he examined it.
Fifteen years of research into the mere existence of the Other World… and this girl was wearing its key around her neck like a fashion statement. And to think she had seen them… she had *lived* amongst them: the other people. The three races who had once been sent to earth to protect the three elements, to harness their power, to restore the land which had been destroyed by the beasts who prevailed before them. Even the elements had been taken by the humans. He looked at the girl. Here, standing before him, was the One of Water.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Actually, Mr Berry,-’
‘-call me Jake.’
‘Jake, what you’re holding in your hand… that’s why I’m here.’
‘The stone? What about it?’
‘Well, I assume you know that there are three of those stones- three keys to enter the Banished Realm.’ Again, he nodded. How could he not know? He had witnessed, like the rest of the world, what happened when the keys were combined.
‘I know that. I also know that all three are with you in their world.’
‘Good,’ she smiled, and then turned very serious. 'But I think you’re about to discover another.’
-
This prompt actually fits quite well with the plot of a novel I'm -attempting- to write, so I kind of used it to create a spin-off of my own story, which explains why it doesn't make an awful lot of sense yet! It was fun anyways, and I'll write the ending tomorrow. I'm too tired. :-) | *Deep in a lost pyramid, the famous Glass family attempt to recover the funds they lost to gambling. Surrounded by hieroglyphs Reginald actually spots something, much to this narrators surprise.*
"Honey pie! Come look at this!"
Reginald had his hands deep in the sand pulling it up, a beautiful diamond which caught the eye of his wife Julia as she stepped off the excavation trailer.
"What is that thing?" Julia's eyes gleamed so much they almost matched the shining gem in her husband's hands.
"I have no idea... get Rose! She's good with machines, ask her to video tape us finding it! Here, I'll just re-bury it..."
Reginald carefully put the diamond back into the ground and then threw a fist full of sand over it, in no way hiding it in any manner.
Julia turned her head around letting her hands gracefully meet the sides of her rosy lips:
"RO GET THE FUCK OVER HERE WITH A CAMERA YOUR FATHER FOUND YOUR COLLEGE FUND!!"
Out of the trailer stepped a dirty fire-headed teenager holding a laptop and a cheap camera. Her hair may have matched her father's but her temper matched her mothers.
Ro begrudgingly turned on the camera, annoyed she was being disturbed from her code academy videos and gave her parents a thumbs up.
"My gosh Julia, my partner in life and work! What is this gleaming thing hiding in the sand?" Reginald had been in a play once. A one man's rendition of flailing arms and over-acting in Ro's eyes.
Reginald lifted the diamond and admired it, he turned it around and saw strange markings.
"What is that? Ro bring the camera closer."
The markings formed a strange creature, white with red eyes and an antenna. It begged to be pressed, Ro thought.
Reginald brushed his thumb over the symbol in a futile attempt to clean it.
The diamond changed from its clear color to a black, a text could be read through it.
"Compiler ready"
Ro looked around the dark room they were in, these hieroglyphs suddenly looked so very familiar to her, she opened her laptop, "Jacque?"
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ckoa4/wp_a_nerdy_kid_discovers_that_magic_spells_work/cjggs2s?context=3 |
|
[WP] During an excavation a strange crystal is dug up, magic suddenly floods back into the world. | I felt something today at lunch. I was eating a bagel with some of my coworkers and it felt like the air got thin and almost organized after one of them got pissed off at another. They felt it too. It confused us all. It felt like before though.
There were about twenty-five of us at the binding all those years ago. We were so young. The nonsense we believed still sort of makes me smile. We were teenagers who thought we knew everything. All we really knew was how to retain memory after our reincarnation.
They were toddlers though, the rest of humanity. People played with fire, poison, and chaos like they were toys. I mean we did too but we lost so many friends in the processes. We learned painful and terrifying lessons. I just wanted to spare them that pain.
They just would not listen though, to any of us, so one night we used our power to bind humanity till they were ready. That was the hope. We knew we’d die after the ritual was complete. All of us had extended our lives beyond the natural limit and we really didn’t know if we’d remember anything when we came back. We worried who’d give humanity back this gift if it wasn’t us.
It’s like I said, nonsense. I still believe it was the right decision but our reason’s for doing it were awful. We thought of ourselves as so much more when we weren’t more than a few steps ahead.
We remembered though. It’s not like before though when at two years old I could remember everything I did since the beginning. Back then I had a perfect memory. It usually takes me into my twenties now before most things come back now.
It has been hard. I always think I’m possessed or nuts before everything settles. Sometimes I’m killed before I know to keep my mouth shut. If I make it though I always love learning. I work at universities wherever I’m born. I’m usually support staff though as the emotional disturbances I deal with don’t really allow for passionate or dedicated emersion into my studies.
I felt it today though. Someone had found the cave that we hid the crystal in. I wondered for a second if our bodies were still there or if they had completely decomposed. Another shock came. Someone had exposed the crystal to fresh air. Was it one of us who was doing this?
People were scared where I was. One lady was screaming about the end of the world and my coworkers were asking so many questions. The air got more charged as their will, their souls, demanded and craved order. I could feel it. Someone turned on the television and flipped to the news. It was happening everywhere.
At once, it looked like something had knocked the wind out of everyone. It was quiet then. People got up and looked around. They didn’t really say anything for a bit. I was still sitting upright. Nothing had happened to me.
“What was that?” one of my coworkers asked. I came up with a test to make sure quicker than I thought I should have.
“Bob knows,” I muttered. They all turned and looked at Bob searching for answers but in a moment, they turned back with a dumbfounded sort of look.
“No he doesn’t,” they all said together. That confirmed it. They have power again.
Did I? I looked my glass and let my mind fill it, churn it, push it, crush it, and finally obliterate it but nothing happened. Maybe this was the price of sealing away their power. Seemed far, I guess. What right did we have to start with? What would we do now with that sort of power? Maybe this was for the best. I mean I was usually on fire back then because I couldn’t deal with things. It hurt, a lot, all the time.
“Balls of light” I heard come from the news. It was like someone whispered my name in a crowded hallway. I knew exactly what was going to happen.
The people around me though had just noticed I was different when I sat back and sighed. They had been blissfully experiencing communicating through telepathy, which isn’t an easy feat to be honest, when they realized I was very quiet. They couldn’t hear me. I could feel them probe but my mind is organized differently. They couldn’t understand it so they heard nothing.
“Something’s coming!” someone screamed. I focused. I needed to be calm but there was turmoil inside me. I was scared, excited, and frustrated. I didn’t see anything hit me but I felt it. It was like everything fell, moved, or twisted into place. In a ripple outward I felt myself get healthy. I didn’t feel the fire I once did inside me. This one was clean, bright, and warm. It felt good. It felt right.
“DIE! Demon!”
End of the world lady had a revolver on her… | *Deep in a lost pyramid, the famous Glass family attempt to recover the funds they lost to gambling. Surrounded by hieroglyphs Reginald actually spots something, much to this narrators surprise.*
"Honey pie! Come look at this!"
Reginald had his hands deep in the sand pulling it up, a beautiful diamond which caught the eye of his wife Julia as she stepped off the excavation trailer.
"What is that thing?" Julia's eyes gleamed so much they almost matched the shining gem in her husband's hands.
"I have no idea... get Rose! She's good with machines, ask her to video tape us finding it! Here, I'll just re-bury it..."
Reginald carefully put the diamond back into the ground and then threw a fist full of sand over it, in no way hiding it in any manner.
Julia turned her head around letting her hands gracefully meet the sides of her rosy lips:
"RO GET THE FUCK OVER HERE WITH A CAMERA YOUR FATHER FOUND YOUR COLLEGE FUND!!"
Out of the trailer stepped a dirty fire-headed teenager holding a laptop and a cheap camera. Her hair may have matched her father's but her temper matched her mothers.
Ro begrudgingly turned on the camera, annoyed she was being disturbed from her code academy videos and gave her parents a thumbs up.
"My gosh Julia, my partner in life and work! What is this gleaming thing hiding in the sand?" Reginald had been in a play once. A one man's rendition of flailing arms and over-acting in Ro's eyes.
Reginald lifted the diamond and admired it, he turned it around and saw strange markings.
"What is that? Ro bring the camera closer."
The markings formed a strange creature, white with red eyes and an antenna. It begged to be pressed, Ro thought.
Reginald brushed his thumb over the symbol in a futile attempt to clean it.
The diamond changed from its clear color to a black, a text could be read through it.
"Compiler ready"
Ro looked around the dark room they were in, these hieroglyphs suddenly looked so very familiar to her, she opened her laptop, "Jacque?"
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ckoa4/wp_a_nerdy_kid_discovers_that_magic_spells_work/cjggs2s?context=3 |
|
[WP] During an excavation a strange crystal is dug up, magic suddenly floods back into the world. | There are few humans alive today who know the truth, the *entire* truth, of our history.
It was something we had not thought to question until last year. We had thought, until then, that what we knew about our origins was correct, that we were seeing the whole picture. But there is only uncertainty now. The picture, it seems, is much larger than we once thought.
Jake Berry was one of these few, and was very proud because of it. He was also a very sensible, logical man, who could solve even the most challenging of problems with ease, and most of the time, thought nothing of anything which could not be proven with science or evidence. It was whilst Jake was studying Archaeology at Oxford, however, that by chance he stumbled upon an old tale, which intrigued him in a way he could *not* explain. For years it ate at him, until finally word got round about a young girl, of whom he knew nothing else, who proved everything he had learned to be far more than a story.
-
The excavation had been going on for weeks now. The whole world seemed to know about it, too- there was media coverage like no one in the industry had ever quite seen. Jake couldn’t blame them. Not for the entirety of this year had the news of what happened in England died down. It popped up in the news a few times a week: conspiracy theories… people wanting answers… lumbering blame onto the authorities, as if they were at fault. Jake sipped his coffee as he stared blankly out at the site.
It was damp and dreary; a downpour was the last thing they needed. The ground had become some gloopy mix of rock and water, which came up to people’s ankles as they waded through. By now, most of the ruins had been dug up. Jake imagined that once it had been a great temple, just like the one in Cambridge had been. It was speculated, too, that they had been built underground hundreds of years ago as ‘safe houses’, though for this, Jake had only his stories to look to. All of which he was certain for now was that these were built by their ancestors long ago, under the reign of a great warrior…
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Jake jumped, startled by the voice, spraying an amount of coffee over himself and, in the process of turning to see where it had come from, knocking the rest of it on the floor.
‘Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-’
‘No worries…’ he grumbled, looking at the girl. She couldn’t have been any older than seventeen, and had the most startlingly blue eyes he had ever seen, with brown hair reaching far below her shoulders and a near-perfectly rounded face. ‘So, journalist? Press? What are you?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ she said sounding somewhat amused, ‘I- I actually believe you may have heard of me. Here…’ they exchanged a rather uncomfortable moment of eye contact, before Jake realised after several seconds that he no longer felt hot coffee on his jeans. Stranger still, was that, as though a tape being played in reverse, the rest of it was rising up from the floor, and settling back into the mug like it had never moved.
‘You’re-’
‘Yeah, I’m her. My name is Rose. I believe you’re Jake Berry?’
He nodded. ‘But what… people thought you were-’
‘-dead? I know. I made sure of that.’ The girl smiled.
‘*I* knew you weren't. You were with Them, weren't you?’
‘Yes.’ He paused, rubbing his face in thought.
‘And all those times you disappeared as a kid… I assume you were with Them?’
‘I've known of the other world since I was thirteen. Ever since I’ve known, yes, I’ve been living amongst Them.’ She sighed, and pulled what had been a concealed chain from around her neck, on the end of which was a pendant. A stone which matched her eyes. ‘Jumping between worlds is tiring, but when you’re like me, you don’t really have much of a choice, you know.’
‘Oh, I know.’ He muttered, staring at the pendant. ‘May I?’
She moved closer, handed him the necklace without a word, and watched as he examined it.
Fifteen years of research into the mere existence of the Other World… and this girl was wearing its key around her neck like a fashion statement. And to think she had seen them… she had *lived* amongst them: the other people. The three races who had once been sent to earth to protect the three elements, to harness their power, to restore the land which had been destroyed by the beasts who prevailed before them. Even the elements had been taken by the humans. He looked at the girl. Here, standing before him, was the One of Water.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Actually, Mr Berry,-’
‘-call me Jake.’
‘Jake, what you’re holding in your hand… that’s why I’m here.’
‘The stone? What about it?’
‘Well, I assume you know that there are three of those stones- three keys to enter the Banished Realm.’ Again, he nodded. How could he not know? He had witnessed, like the rest of the world, what happened when the keys were combined.
‘I know that. I also know that all three are with you in their world.’
‘Good,’ she smiled, and then turned very serious. 'But I think you’re about to discover another.’
-
This prompt actually fits quite well with the plot of a novel I'm -attempting- to write, so I kind of used it to create a spin-off of my own story, which explains why it doesn't make an awful lot of sense yet! It was fun anyways, and I'll write the ending tomorrow. I'm too tired. :-) | The dragons awoke: angry, powerful, and hungry.
* * *
**Prologue**
It started in a random spot in England, as these things do. "Merlin's Tomb" they called it. The archeologists claimed to have found the burial site of the historical figure. It was unadorned, unmarked, and otherwise unremarkable. It was, we later realized, not supposed to be found.
My parents were watching BBC 4 as it covered the unveiling live and told me about the beautiful chamber. Covered in runic symbols, ancient English writing, and other forms of lettering, the room was impressive. The archeologists there saw the purple crystal in the center of the chamber, the supposed place of honor in these old burial sites. And one of them touched it.
That was when it happened. The crystal, in all appearances sturdy or else the guy wouldn't have touched it, shattered. The camera feed cut out almost immediately. But not before my parents saw the team of archaeologists evaporate.
* * *
I turned the corner, ran 20 feet, and jumped in the old trash bin. Thankfully no one was living here. It was not an uncommon thing. The steel was close enough to iron to matter.
I lifted the lid ever so slightly and peered out. Five guys turned the same corner at breakneck speed and split up. 2 went down the alley. 3 went past me. None thought of the hiding spot.
I closed the lid and gave it a few minutes. The purple crystal in my pocket warmed my thigh. The smell of the trash bin irritated my nose. The rust-lined metal threatened to carve a hole in me. My glasses fogged slightly.
After five minutes, I peeked out again and saw only an empty street. The lid creaked up without too many complaints, and I jumped out. I flicked off the bits of 20 year old refuse and ran home. With this much mana in my pocket, Lightning no less, I could finally afford to go to school and be safe from the gangs, the Others, and the dragons. I hoped. |
|
[WP] During an excavation a strange crystal is dug up, magic suddenly floods back into the world. | There are few humans alive today who know the truth, the *entire* truth, of our history.
It was something we had not thought to question until last year. We had thought, until then, that what we knew about our origins was correct, that we were seeing the whole picture. But there is only uncertainty now. The picture, it seems, is much larger than we once thought.
Jake Berry was one of these few, and was very proud because of it. He was also a very sensible, logical man, who could solve even the most challenging of problems with ease, and most of the time, thought nothing of anything which could not be proven with science or evidence. It was whilst Jake was studying Archaeology at Oxford, however, that by chance he stumbled upon an old tale, which intrigued him in a way he could *not* explain. For years it ate at him, until finally word got round about a young girl, of whom he knew nothing else, who proved everything he had learned to be far more than a story.
-
The excavation had been going on for weeks now. The whole world seemed to know about it, too- there was media coverage like no one in the industry had ever quite seen. Jake couldn’t blame them. Not for the entirety of this year had the news of what happened in England died down. It popped up in the news a few times a week: conspiracy theories… people wanting answers… lumbering blame onto the authorities, as if they were at fault. Jake sipped his coffee as he stared blankly out at the site.
It was damp and dreary; a downpour was the last thing they needed. The ground had become some gloopy mix of rock and water, which came up to people’s ankles as they waded through. By now, most of the ruins had been dug up. Jake imagined that once it had been a great temple, just like the one in Cambridge had been. It was speculated, too, that they had been built underground hundreds of years ago as ‘safe houses’, though for this, Jake had only his stories to look to. All of which he was certain for now was that these were built by their ancestors long ago, under the reign of a great warrior…
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ Jake jumped, startled by the voice, spraying an amount of coffee over himself and, in the process of turning to see where it had come from, knocking the rest of it on the floor.
‘Oh, I’m sorry! I should’ve knocked-’
‘No worries…’ he grumbled, looking at the girl. She couldn’t have been any older than seventeen, and had the most startlingly blue eyes he had ever seen, with brown hair reaching far below her shoulders and a near-perfectly rounded face. ‘So, journalist? Press? What are you?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that,’ she said sounding somewhat amused, ‘I- I actually believe you may have heard of me. Here…’ they exchanged a rather uncomfortable moment of eye contact, before Jake realised after several seconds that he no longer felt hot coffee on his jeans. Stranger still, was that, as though a tape being played in reverse, the rest of it was rising up from the floor, and settling back into the mug like it had never moved.
‘You’re-’
‘Yeah, I’m her. My name is Rose. I believe you’re Jake Berry?’
He nodded. ‘But what… people thought you were-’
‘-dead? I know. I made sure of that.’ The girl smiled.
‘*I* knew you weren't. You were with Them, weren't you?’
‘Yes.’ He paused, rubbing his face in thought.
‘And all those times you disappeared as a kid… I assume you were with Them?’
‘I've known of the other world since I was thirteen. Ever since I’ve known, yes, I’ve been living amongst Them.’ She sighed, and pulled what had been a concealed chain from around her neck, on the end of which was a pendant. A stone which matched her eyes. ‘Jumping between worlds is tiring, but when you’re like me, you don’t really have much of a choice, you know.’
‘Oh, I know.’ He muttered, staring at the pendant. ‘May I?’
She moved closer, handed him the necklace without a word, and watched as he examined it.
Fifteen years of research into the mere existence of the Other World… and this girl was wearing its key around her neck like a fashion statement. And to think she had seen them… she had *lived* amongst them: the other people. The three races who had once been sent to earth to protect the three elements, to harness their power, to restore the land which had been destroyed by the beasts who prevailed before them. Even the elements had been taken by the humans. He looked at the girl. Here, standing before him, was the One of Water.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Actually, Mr Berry,-’
‘-call me Jake.’
‘Jake, what you’re holding in your hand… that’s why I’m here.’
‘The stone? What about it?’
‘Well, I assume you know that there are three of those stones- three keys to enter the Banished Realm.’ Again, he nodded. How could he not know? He had witnessed, like the rest of the world, what happened when the keys were combined.
‘I know that. I also know that all three are with you in their world.’
‘Good,’ she smiled, and then turned very serious. 'But I think you’re about to discover another.’
-
This prompt actually fits quite well with the plot of a novel I'm -attempting- to write, so I kind of used it to create a spin-off of my own story, which explains why it doesn't make an awful lot of sense yet! It was fun anyways, and I'll write the ending tomorrow. I'm too tired. :-) | I felt it as the seal broke. We all felt it. Humanity's lost history was dug screeching out of our earth. Humanity once again wielded magic. Magic, however, was sealed for a reason. A very good one. How would I know this? Well lets just say I was the cause.
Long time ago humans had full control over magic. However magic had its rules and limitations and therefore everyone was kinda satisfied. Until I came along. I broke too many rules that people thought unbreakable, did too many feats that defied their concept of magic. They didn't seal magic because it was better for them or because it was necessary, they sealed it because they were scared. What they thought they understood shattered and was thrown to the ground by my birth, and they simply could not handle it.
Many long years I had waited for this moment. Many years of suffering, of loss. You see... I am immortal.
Or was anyway. After they sealed magic I merely became long lived. Like really really long lived. There's a difference. |
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[WP] During an excavation a strange crystal is dug up, magic suddenly floods back into the world. | Multi-part story incoming.
**Part One: Magic and the Killer.**
Damien was a very patient person. When Harriet had left that morning, Damien found his way into the house with ease. She always left the back door unlocked, a fatal flaw for a woman so beautiful. As he took in his surroundings and memorized the layout of the house, he found himself stopping at each framed picture, consistently halted by the piercing stare of her blue eyes. It was as if she was physically there, staring into Damien's soul.
And her smile was proof, he thought, that they belonged together.
Her bedroom was scantily decorated. The white walls were bare of pictures and the bed coverings were spartan at best; plain white sheets and an equally white comforter. Everything save the black-painted wood nightstand was white.
That may be a problem later, Damien noted.
He opened the drawers of the nightstand to find a variety of items that brought some more light as to Harriet's life. A smutty novel was in the top drawer, too unbecoming for a girl like her. He picked it up with one of his gloved hands and felt the raised texture of the cover. Imagining her reading the novel late at night, Damien brought the book to his face and inhaled deeply. It smelled just as he expected her to smell. He replaced the book gingerly. A quick peruse of the drawer found nothing of note aside from that.
The lower drawer, on the other hand, had Damien raise an eyebrow. A solitary black whip lay there. This was unexpected and saddening. A weapon, no matter the purpose, would not prove conducive to his plans tonight. Damien grabbed the item and shoved it into the back of his jeans, covering the top portion with his hoodie. If I'm lucky, Damien thought, I'll be able to use this tonight.
Back downstairs, the man walked into the dining room, barely used, and found the window he would be entering tonight. The first one was a bit difficult to open. The second glided smooth as silk. Damien made sure the window, tonight's entrance, was unlocked. He grinned in anticipation of the upcoming night's events and made his way back to the back door.
"See you tonight," he murmured, as he stepped out of the house.
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Harriet pulled into her driveway at 5:43PM, right on schedule.
Damien had already situated himself in one of the side bushes, one that was in eyesight range of a veiled window overlooking the kitchen and living room.
His partially obstructed view yielded him a silhouetted view of the woman placing her purse on the kitchen counter and removing her blazer. The form of her body in a fitted button-up and slacks caused Damien's breathing to increase, but ceased when she disappeared from view. Roughly an hour later, she reappeared in a loose-fitting t-shirt and pajama pants, making a beeline towards the refrigerator. She opened the freezer door, obstructing Damien's view. This was very quick however, and when the door closed Harriet had a pint of ice cream in her hand. She grabbed a spoon from the dishwasher and made her way to the living room. A bright rectangle of fuzzy light along with the muffled sounds of commercials alerted Damien that it was time to strike.
Crouched, Damien silently made his way to the window from earlier that day. Fingers gloved, he pried the screen off and gently placed it under a bush behind him. Slowly and carefully, Damien pushed the window upward and open. One sock-clad foot after the other, he entered the darkened dining room. Stalking from the dining room to the kitchen, he positioned himself behind the kitchen counter and peeked over. The TV was displaying some show with a man wearing dark green leather and a hood with a bow and arrow. The action was frenetic and the sound was sufficiently violent.
Damien grabbed the black cloth from his back pocket and twisted it into a thick rope. As he did this, he moved away from the counter and towards the couch where Harriet sat.
"Why can't you be mine, Oliver Queen?" she said aloud, the clinking of a spoon on wood barely audible as a commercial break began.
Now. Now I strike, he thought.
With a quick motion, Damien stood up and took his makeshift rope across her neck, both choking and dragging her off the couch. The woman gasped and attempted to call out, but choked words were the only sound made.
"Here now, Harriet," Damien whispered. "Calm down. It's only me."
She was lying back-down on the floor at this point, and he stuffed the cloth into her mouth with a hand covering the stuffed orifice.
"We're going to have lots of fun tonight, aren't we?" Damien reached into his front pocket and pulled out some masking tape, which he deftly dragged along the bottom of her head, securing the cloth in her mouth. Her eyes, tearing up, stared up at him, trying to recognize who he was.
It was futile, he knew. She had never seen him before in her life. He took pride in his hobby.
Her flailing limbs were the next to be tied up. Arms firmly wrapped in tape, Damien began the real fun. With one hand holding her struggling legs in place, the other began pulling down her pajamas. Eyes suddenly wide with fear, Harriet reached out with her tied hands and sounded a muffled cry through the cloth and tape.
Damien was launched violently back, colliding with and denting the back door with his back and head.
"Fuck!" yelled Damien, a great deal louder than the television in the background. Harriet, attempting to get back on her feet, looked as confused as he did. Abandoning hope of being able to stand, she started pushing herself towards the front door.
Back on HIS feet, Damien shook his head as his eyes went dark with rage. "Oh no you don't, dearie." He reached behind him and pulled out the whip he had taken from Harriet's nightstand earlier.
"You're not getting away THAT easy." He closed in on her and with a crack, she had ceased moving, attempting to moan in pain through the obstructing cloth. Another couple of whips silenced her completely, her body jerking to the pain and shaking with silent sobs.
"I don't know how you did that," he said. "And by the looks on you, you don't know either. I'll find out later." Whip still in hand, Damien shot a glance down at the woman's damaged body.
"Wish I could say the same for you," the man murmured as he descended upon her.
**To be continued.** | "And there will come a day, where he shall come back onto this earth with fury and wrath, with vengeance and might, and STRIKE DOWN ALL THE HEATHENS, SINNERS, HOMOSEXUALS AND FORNICA-"
For the first time in twenty years of preaching, Reverend Solomon Jacks had stopped mid sermon. His congregation still swaying to the churches music, lost in a mixture of yelling and praying, had not yet noticed his silence.
The Reverend stood still, mouth open, eyes wide. Completely, and absolutely immobilized.
"IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD JESUS CHRIST YOU WILL BE GONE DEMON!"
His congregation lets out an echo of "AMEN!"
But he is relentless. He isn't preaching anymore.
"IN THE NAME OF THE-"
The roar is deafening. A sound so strange, so strong that it soars through the room in an instant. Panic and terror spreads like wildfire. What once was hopeful prayer turns into a desperate plea for mercy.
The entire congregation is now on their knees, some daring enough that they manage to turn to look back at the door.
And there, in plain sight, walking towards the stage; standing at nearly 8 feet tall is a living,
breathing, dragon.
Got class but i can carry on later
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[WP] A man has the ability to eradicate events from history simply by writing about them. | I walked out of the classroom, holding in my mind the knowledge that I had failed Political Science. I hadn't studied. I hadn't prepared. I had done nothing. I just went in, scribbled a ton of answers down and left. My heart was relaxed and a smile was on my face. I went down and bought a mocha from the coffee shop and sat down. Grabbing a pencil from my pocket and my notebook from my backpack, I sat there and wrote down on the page:
"I had entered the classroom wonderfully prepared. The test was no real challenge and I had scored a 83% on the exam."
After putting the period at the end, I waited.
Time began to tick and before I realized it, it had become noon. I went online and checked my grade on the final exam.
83%. Just the way I liked it. I could have given myself a higher score, sure, but I had learned to be careful.
See, the thing is I wasn't the only one who had the ability. There were so many others. One kid, in that same class, had that power and he brandished it like it was nothing. One day, he stopped coming to class. Then I found out his name wasn't on the roster. Then I found out he didn't exist.
Someone, somewhere, something made that kid just...not exist. It was a message to all other owners of this power: Brandish it, glorify it, reveal it and you'll lose more than it.
No one knew who had these powers. I had to be more cautious when using it.
Plus, 83% was enough to pass. So it was fine. I left the shop and continued on my way, watching carefully the world around me. | *And when those two collided, it was kismet; they knew they were meant to be. They leaned in to kiss each other as was expected. They made love later that night as was expected. When she became pregnant, he married her. When they had been married three weeks, she fell. They had the funeral for the tiny coffin a week later.*
And poof, I was gone. |
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[WP] A man has the ability to eradicate events from history simply by writing about them. | As Bruce opened the mysterious book, he felt accomplished. He had gone on a wacky adventure to obtain this artifact. After decades of studying, solving contraptions and escaping dungeons, he pieced together the purpose of this book. It translated as "Erase the Past".
He knew what he wanted to write. He would to erase the deaths of his parents. It was a trauma he had to bear all his life. He could still smell the lingering gunpowder in the air from that day in the alleyway. The man was simply supposed to rob them but instead took out the gun and there was a bang. Next thing Bruce knew was that his parents were dead. The event had transformed his life forever.
He started writing. **“It started with a big bang.”**
The book suddenly activated and started glowing. The building started shaking more and more violently until….
*There was nothing.*
| *And when those two collided, it was kismet; they knew they were meant to be. They leaned in to kiss each other as was expected. They made love later that night as was expected. When she became pregnant, he married her. When they had been married three weeks, she fell. They had the funeral for the tiny coffin a week later.*
And poof, I was gone. |
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[WP] A man has the ability to eradicate events from history simply by writing about them. | As Bruce opened the mysterious book, he felt accomplished. He had gone on a wacky adventure to obtain this artifact. After decades of studying, solving contraptions and escaping dungeons, he pieced together the purpose of this book. It translated as "Erase the Past".
He knew what he wanted to write. He would to erase the deaths of his parents. It was a trauma he had to bear all his life. He could still smell the lingering gunpowder in the air from that day in the alleyway. The man was simply supposed to rob them but instead took out the gun and there was a bang. Next thing Bruce knew was that his parents were dead. The event had transformed his life forever.
He started writing. **“It started with a big bang.”**
The book suddenly activated and started glowing. The building started shaking more and more violently until….
*There was nothing.*
| I walked out of the classroom, holding in my mind the knowledge that I had failed Political Science. I hadn't studied. I hadn't prepared. I had done nothing. I just went in, scribbled a ton of answers down and left. My heart was relaxed and a smile was on my face. I went down and bought a mocha from the coffee shop and sat down. Grabbing a pencil from my pocket and my notebook from my backpack, I sat there and wrote down on the page:
"I had entered the classroom wonderfully prepared. The test was no real challenge and I had scored a 83% on the exam."
After putting the period at the end, I waited.
Time began to tick and before I realized it, it had become noon. I went online and checked my grade on the final exam.
83%. Just the way I liked it. I could have given myself a higher score, sure, but I had learned to be careful.
See, the thing is I wasn't the only one who had the ability. There were so many others. One kid, in that same class, had that power and he brandished it like it was nothing. One day, he stopped coming to class. Then I found out his name wasn't on the roster. Then I found out he didn't exist.
Someone, somewhere, something made that kid just...not exist. It was a message to all other owners of this power: Brandish it, glorify it, reveal it and you'll lose more than it.
No one knew who had these powers. I had to be more cautious when using it.
Plus, 83% was enough to pass. So it was fine. I left the shop and continued on my way, watching carefully the world around me. |
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[WP]You go in complaining of a simple ache in your chest. The doctor wakes you up after an emergency medical procedure, you're surrounded by scientists and called. "The only one of your kind." | I dragged myself awake to the sound of voices.
"Are the contractions over?"
"Yes, doctor. The patients condition has stabilized. Blood flow is interesting, to say the least, but it conforms to the patients measured average."
"What's our average based on?"
"Six months of monitoring, doctor. Constant."
Six months?
"Understand, please, that I find it hard to believe."
"I do, sir. The contractions were, from the patients own testimony, present from around May 2014 to now."
"Amazing. This changes everything, you know. Everything."
"I'm aware, sir."
May? I started hurting in May...it was sudden. I was on my couch, eating chips and watching reruns of *Dancing with the Stars*, when my chest burst out in pain.
I groggily opened my eyes. I could see perfectly. And oddly enough, I could see the whole room from my spot on the operating table...
Normally, I can barely see further than my arm...oh my god.
*Where the hell are my---*
"Doctor!" A woman burst into the room, a nurse. "She's lucid!"
The doctor froze, horrified. The other man, wearing a suit, showed less emotion, but backed up a step. He smelled afraid.
He smelled afraid? I tried to stand.
"I need tranquilizers, nurse!"
Why, for me? I grabbed the doctor. I just had to ask him what was wrong. His pupils were dilated. He had wet himself. I asked him why he was scared.
"You...we didn't think you...you're the first...the only..." he trailed off. *Fine,* I thought. I'll ask myself. The doctor went slack.
"You, in the suit," I asked, though the doctor spoke. "Why are you frightened?"
"Ma'am, your appearance is...unusual." The suit had seemed to slacken, too.
I hummed. "Nurse, get me a mirror," the suit and doctor ordered in unison.
| The doors in the medical center opened as I began clutching my chest because of this unbearable pain. "Hello, there! Welcome to the center, what do you need?" A cheery clerk asked. Without hesitation, I simply said "I have chest pain going on for around a few days now, it's become unbearable." And that's all I remembered from two weeks ago, or so the doctors told me.
Right now, though, I was in my recovery bed, obviously bewildered, with several scientists in hazmat suits surrounding me, all with wide eyes, and the expression that describes nothing but shock and awe. Then, one doctor approached me with caution. What he said next changed my life forever. With slow and cautious words, he said, "Mr. Daniel Skorenstien, you are the first, and only one of your kind."
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[WP] Humanity has unlocked immortality, but it's not what they expected. As a result the practice is banned | When it began, I was called Genius. I changed the face of science, laughed at death, and ushered in the era of the superman.
I was called Leader. My favored few were picked from the multitudes of man, and together we challenged any and all who would seek to do harm.
We were called Hero. We fought wickedness, cruelty, hunger, servitude, ensuring every man would live a full life, their lives being finite.
We were called Gods. The small people of this world clamored at our feet, praying for the gift to be bestowed upon them, feigning great feats in hopes of proving "worthy."
We were called Selfish. The masses made demands of us that we were not prepared to answer, and so we gave them nought but silence. They pleaded. They begged. They screamed. Their bombs went off and dust filled the air they struggled to breathe. They gasped. We stayed silent.
We are called Nothing. The Few have known the names that lie littered in our wake. We have no need for them now. We shall have no need for them ever again, for we are We, and nothing more is relevant. We are We, We are The Few, and this broken world was left to us. | It started out great. we could not die. It started with a few wealthy people being the first to use it but then started filtering out to the masses. An end to sickness and death. It sounded like paradise. Then the economics of a world without death started to sink in.
The unemployment rate started to skyrocket. If no one died, no one ever retired. In fact no one could retire because those that did would never have enough money to last and the ones that did taxed the social secruity program till it broke. The health care system also had massive layoffs. massive layoffs of funeral homes.
It was decided that the process of immortality had to be controlled. It was too powerful to let anyone use it. You had to show a pressing common good for the world to extend your life eternal. This did slowly start to normalize everything but it created another problem.
The gap between rich and poor became the gap between immortals and non-immortals. immortality did tend to give a person a long time to amass a large empire. Soon there was a war. A bloody war between the Immortals who amassed powers over centuries and the common man who could not afford or be gifted with the power of the immortal. |
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[WP] Humanity has unlocked immortality, but it's not what they expected. As a result the practice is banned | 113 years ago today, humanity stopped aging. The Serum gave everlasting life - mass produced, sold on corner-store counter-tops, it spread as a time-halting pandemic across the developed world. Initially, it was wildly embraced. Husbands and wives went Immo together. Families held reunions and went Immo en masse. Creative folks held funerals for their mortality, or final birthday parties to freeze themselves precisely at a certain age. The planet at large hailed the Serum as nothing short of miraculous.
Sure there were problems. Children too young going Immo was a disaster. An eternity of spit-up and diapers for unwitting parents. Those too old, whose bodies had already partly failed them, faced the ages with dysfunctional systems. Inmates across the world railed to be permitted to take the Serum and riots erupted in prisons when they were denied.
And of course, we were told it was safe. Entirely harmless. Except no one had done long-term testing. How could they, when the very term was redefined with the invention of the Serum?
The governments banned it, of course. Supposedly all stock held has been destroyed. But the damage is done. From the moment you take it, your body stops aging, stops changing. No one took into account that women need to change to have children. And now we can't. Which, alone might be a surmountable issue, but combined with the Side Effect, well, it's no wonder we're dying out. You see, exactly 100 years, to the second, after someone takes The Serum, they die. And no one knows why. | It started out great. we could not die. It started with a few wealthy people being the first to use it but then started filtering out to the masses. An end to sickness and death. It sounded like paradise. Then the economics of a world without death started to sink in.
The unemployment rate started to skyrocket. If no one died, no one ever retired. In fact no one could retire because those that did would never have enough money to last and the ones that did taxed the social secruity program till it broke. The health care system also had massive layoffs. massive layoffs of funeral homes.
It was decided that the process of immortality had to be controlled. It was too powerful to let anyone use it. You had to show a pressing common good for the world to extend your life eternal. This did slowly start to normalize everything but it created another problem.
The gap between rich and poor became the gap between immortals and non-immortals. immortality did tend to give a person a long time to amass a large empire. Soon there was a war. A bloody war between the Immortals who amassed powers over centuries and the common man who could not afford or be gifted with the power of the immortal. |
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[WP] Humanity has unlocked immortality, but it's not what they expected. As a result the practice is banned | 113 years ago today, humanity stopped aging. The Serum gave everlasting life - mass produced, sold on corner-store counter-tops, it spread as a time-halting pandemic across the developed world. Initially, it was wildly embraced. Husbands and wives went Immo together. Families held reunions and went Immo en masse. Creative folks held funerals for their mortality, or final birthday parties to freeze themselves precisely at a certain age. The planet at large hailed the Serum as nothing short of miraculous.
Sure there were problems. Children too young going Immo was a disaster. An eternity of spit-up and diapers for unwitting parents. Those too old, whose bodies had already partly failed them, faced the ages with dysfunctional systems. Inmates across the world railed to be permitted to take the Serum and riots erupted in prisons when they were denied.
And of course, we were told it was safe. Entirely harmless. Except no one had done long-term testing. How could they, when the very term was redefined with the invention of the Serum?
The governments banned it, of course. Supposedly all stock held has been destroyed. But the damage is done. From the moment you take it, your body stops aging, stops changing. No one took into account that women need to change to have children. And now we can't. Which, alone might be a surmountable issue, but combined with the Side Effect, well, it's no wonder we're dying out. You see, exactly 100 years, to the second, after someone takes The Serum, they die. And no one knows why. | When it began, I was called Genius. I changed the face of science, laughed at death, and ushered in the era of the superman.
I was called Leader. My favored few were picked from the multitudes of man, and together we challenged any and all who would seek to do harm.
We were called Hero. We fought wickedness, cruelty, hunger, servitude, ensuring every man would live a full life, their lives being finite.
We were called Gods. The small people of this world clamored at our feet, praying for the gift to be bestowed upon them, feigning great feats in hopes of proving "worthy."
We were called Selfish. The masses made demands of us that we were not prepared to answer, and so we gave them nought but silence. They pleaded. They begged. They screamed. Their bombs went off and dust filled the air they struggled to breathe. They gasped. We stayed silent.
We are called Nothing. The Few have known the names that lie littered in our wake. We have no need for them now. We shall have no need for them ever again, for we are We, and nothing more is relevant. We are We, We are The Few, and this broken world was left to us. |
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[WP] A man cursed with the gift of knowing the time and circumstances of everyone's death but his own. | It began as a young child, but then it was only a feeling that came over him at times. As he grew into his teenage years, he began to fully understand what he was capable of. At first he could only sense the impending death of people he had a personal connection with, but with time he could merely lock eyes with anyone and know their time of death and the general cause.
This was a burden he did not want, and as a result he struggled with crippling depression, unable to share his secret with anyone. Walking around looking at his shoes became the norm, trying to avoid catching a glance and knowing the demise of yet another person. Even so, it was impossible to ignore everyone all the time, and the weight on his shoulders grew day by day.
As he walked down the sidewalk on a busy day, he found himself accidentally making way too much eye contact, and was particularly saddened by the young father that would die from cancer in only five years. He wanted so badly to help him, but he knew he couldn't fight the disease that was going to take his life. All he could do was live with the knowledge of his awful fate.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't see the woman going the other way until their shoulders collided. Her phone went flying out of her hands, and as he apologized he bent down to pick it up for her. They locked eyes, and the feeling hit him harder than it ever had before.
*Two minutes. Car accident.*
"Ma'am, you're not going to believe me, but you need to go inside now. Please get away from the street."
He spoke without thinking, still stunned by what was going on. He had never encountered someone this close to death, and he couldn't sit by and do nothing. This wasn't a disease, a car accident could be prevented.
"Why?" She asked, grabbing her phone and backing up with a confused and scared look sweeping across her face.
"Please, just trust me. Something really bad is going to happen if you don't get away from the street." He tried to explain.
"Get away from me." The woman said, clearly afraid he was going to do something to her.
He reached for her arm, and it was a terrible decision. She took off running from him, and never saw the car blowing through the red light.
He never tried to save anyone again. He could only know; he was powerless to stop fate. | Tick. Tick. Tick. Aaron taps his pencil frantically against his desk as the sounds of the clock's gears refract about his skull. Beads of sweat roll down his face. It's about to happen.
Tick tick tick, five seconds. First, the woman in the desk by the window facing the street will stand up and scream. Tick. A horn blares as the enormous vehicle crashes through the building. Tick. The bus charges through the office, taking out everything and everyone in its path. Mary, John, Allen. Tick. The bus brushes by a support beam and tips over to its side, sliding to the opposite corner. Tick. Half of the office employees are dead or severely injured. The rest stand wide-eyed and shocked, shedding tears for those lost and for the broken families that had just been created. Tick.
At precisely 3:15:27 p.m. on a sunny afternoon, a public transit bus crashes through a one-story office building on the outskirts of the city. The driver and all passengers die upon impact. Half of the office employees remain unharmed, among them, is Aaron Midas.
Unlike the legendary Midas, who was gifted with the power to turn anything into gold, Aaron is cursed. Death surrounds him wherever he travels. His eyes can see the exact time and circumstances of every man, woman, child, animal, or living thing they lay themselves upon. Ever since he was a boy Aaron was engulfed by the sad futures of those he encountered. He sees pain, tears, lost love. He wants it to end. He can't wait for the day to come. However, it is the one day that remains a mystery to him.
After the police get their information for their reports and the ambulance finished checking the survivors for injuries, Aaron leaves his now damaged place of employment and heads home.
He sits on the train and tries to relax. A man is standing by the doors, staring out the window. In a year, he will develop lung cancer. He will battle for three years but eventually fall victim to the disease. 1:49:10 a.m. 3/15/2018. A teenage boy listens to very loud music a few seats away from Aaron. In a few months, he will take his own life by overdosing on his father's painkillers. 11:31:32 p.m. 1/23/2015. A young woman sits happily in the seat across from Aaron. In two years, due to birth complications, she will die giving birth to her first child. 9:45:57 a.m. 10/12/2016. The train reaches Aaron's stop. Quickly, he stands up and leaves the train, holding back his tears the best he can.
As he returns home, Aaron's wife Christina stands at the doorstep with tears filling her eyes and a wide smile spread across her face. She must have heard the news about the office. She runs up to him and embraces him tightly, telling him how grateful she is that he's not hurt. A bright smile grew on Aaron's face. He loved Christina more than anything; she was the only person who could make him feel happiness. Then he sees it--the image that made his smile fade away a million times before. A beautiful young woman, cold, pale, and lifeless, lying in a pool of her own blood.
A tear rolls down his face as he witnesses the moment that will cause his smile to fade away for eternity.
12:13:33 a.m. 5/3/2019. |
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[WP] A man cursed with the gift of knowing the time and circumstances of everyone's death but his own. | He sat outside the café by himself quietly sipping at his coffee and watching the people go by. He followed some with more interest than others. A woman, pushing a pram with a baby had only days left. She would kill herself. An old man with a worn and beaten walking stick would die in fourteen years at the age of ninety-seven. He would die fending off burglars.
He didn’t know how he knew it, but he always had. He could sense when and how people would die.
At the age of six he had upset his mother (sixty-two, liver disease) when he had told his uncle that he would miss him. The next day he was found dead in the alleyway by his house, having suffered a massive heart attack. Through similar experiences he quickly realised that he was one of a kind, and that when he spoke plainly about people dying, it caused a large amount of upset. He had, in short, learnt to keep his mouth shut.
He had been able to see the time and cause of death of everyone he ever saw. It wasn’t a number or a sign or anything like that, it was a feeling. He could even see it on people in films or on TV. Which was why it had shocked him, when he was old enough to think about it, that he couldn’t tell when or how he would die. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he would live forever.
He didn’t take that thought seriously, though. It was just that he had always wondered what it would be like to meet someone and not know.
He was about fifteen when he had built up the courage to try and do something about it. At school he had been a loner. He had few friends, and he knew that this was his own doing. The idea of getting close to someone and forever being reminded that they would pass away had made him avoid getting close to people. But then a girl in his class was going to die in a house fire. With six weeks to go, he decided to risk talking to her, hoping to build up enough of a rapport to somehow stop it. He had failed, of course. She had died, and he realised that he was, at present at least, powerless to stop it.
At first he had thought that maybe it was because he was young and inexperienced, but time showed him that no matter what, he would always be powerless.
But it did teach him something important. It showed him that getting close to people was not an awful thing. He had known her since he was eight, and had only come to know her for six weeks, and he had loved every minute of it.
When he was twenty-five, his sister gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. His sister would live until she was eighty-two. She would die of a stroke. Her daughter would live until she was one-hundred and five! He realised then that she would outlive him, and he felt good knowing that here was someone who he would not have to say goodbye to.
And then, at the age of thirty, he fell in love. She had months left until she died in a car crash, and he hated himself for falling for her, but what could he do? She was beautiful and funny, and all the rest of that good stuff. And he loved being around her.
He had only tried to change people’s death-date a handful of times and it had always ended in disaster. But now he was determined to stop it. Unfortunately, he had no idea how.
He considered trying to make her stay home that night, but he knew it wouldn’t work.
Once, he saw a homeless man who would die of exposure that night. He sat down and began to speak to him, learning his name and how he came to be in the situation he was. He took the man to a hostel and paid for him to spend the night there. He came back the next night to find that the homeless man had been thrown out for obscene behaviour. He had frozen to death at the back doors of the hostel.
Because of this, he was sure only direct action would work. If he had taken the man home, kept him warm, then he probably would have survived that night.
And so he had arranged to be in the car with her on that fateful day.
She had insisted on driving, and he sat in the passenger’s seat on edge. He forced himself to laugh and smile, and he made conversation like it was nothing. Like he couldn’t sense her death getting closer by the minute.
Eventually as they drove a fog descended over the road. Visibility was reduced to practically nothing, and he felt as if he might have a heart attack. The very universe seemed to be conspiring against him. With seconds to go, he spotted headlights coming towards them. They were on the wrong side of the road, the driver clearly disorientated.
Time slowed. He saw her panicking, not reacting quickly enough as the vehicle drew closer and closer. But he was prepared, he had known that something big was going to happen. He had the advantage.
He reached over and yanked on the wheel. Not too much, he didn’t want them to roll, but just enough to try and steer them clear.
And so he sat at the café and sipped his coffee while watching the people go past. And eventually he stood up, buttoned up his jacked and adjusted his tie. Then he picked up the flowers he was going to leave at her graveside, and left.
| Tick. Tick. Tick. Aaron taps his pencil frantically against his desk as the sounds of the clock's gears refract about his skull. Beads of sweat roll down his face. It's about to happen.
Tick tick tick, five seconds. First, the woman in the desk by the window facing the street will stand up and scream. Tick. A horn blares as the enormous vehicle crashes through the building. Tick. The bus charges through the office, taking out everything and everyone in its path. Mary, John, Allen. Tick. The bus brushes by a support beam and tips over to its side, sliding to the opposite corner. Tick. Half of the office employees are dead or severely injured. The rest stand wide-eyed and shocked, shedding tears for those lost and for the broken families that had just been created. Tick.
At precisely 3:15:27 p.m. on a sunny afternoon, a public transit bus crashes through a one-story office building on the outskirts of the city. The driver and all passengers die upon impact. Half of the office employees remain unharmed, among them, is Aaron Midas.
Unlike the legendary Midas, who was gifted with the power to turn anything into gold, Aaron is cursed. Death surrounds him wherever he travels. His eyes can see the exact time and circumstances of every man, woman, child, animal, or living thing they lay themselves upon. Ever since he was a boy Aaron was engulfed by the sad futures of those he encountered. He sees pain, tears, lost love. He wants it to end. He can't wait for the day to come. However, it is the one day that remains a mystery to him.
After the police get their information for their reports and the ambulance finished checking the survivors for injuries, Aaron leaves his now damaged place of employment and heads home.
He sits on the train and tries to relax. A man is standing by the doors, staring out the window. In a year, he will develop lung cancer. He will battle for three years but eventually fall victim to the disease. 1:49:10 a.m. 3/15/2018. A teenage boy listens to very loud music a few seats away from Aaron. In a few months, he will take his own life by overdosing on his father's painkillers. 11:31:32 p.m. 1/23/2015. A young woman sits happily in the seat across from Aaron. In two years, due to birth complications, she will die giving birth to her first child. 9:45:57 a.m. 10/12/2016. The train reaches Aaron's stop. Quickly, he stands up and leaves the train, holding back his tears the best he can.
As he returns home, Aaron's wife Christina stands at the doorstep with tears filling her eyes and a wide smile spread across her face. She must have heard the news about the office. She runs up to him and embraces him tightly, telling him how grateful she is that he's not hurt. A bright smile grew on Aaron's face. He loved Christina more than anything; she was the only person who could make him feel happiness. Then he sees it--the image that made his smile fade away a million times before. A beautiful young woman, cold, pale, and lifeless, lying in a pool of her own blood.
A tear rolls down his face as he witnesses the moment that will cause his smile to fade away for eternity.
12:13:33 a.m. 5/3/2019. |
|
[WP] A man cursed with the gift of knowing the time and circumstances of everyone's death but his own. | He sat outside the café by himself quietly sipping at his coffee and watching the people go by. He followed some with more interest than others. A woman, pushing a pram with a baby had only days left. She would kill herself. An old man with a worn and beaten walking stick would die in fourteen years at the age of ninety-seven. He would die fending off burglars.
He didn’t know how he knew it, but he always had. He could sense when and how people would die.
At the age of six he had upset his mother (sixty-two, liver disease) when he had told his uncle that he would miss him. The next day he was found dead in the alleyway by his house, having suffered a massive heart attack. Through similar experiences he quickly realised that he was one of a kind, and that when he spoke plainly about people dying, it caused a large amount of upset. He had, in short, learnt to keep his mouth shut.
He had been able to see the time and cause of death of everyone he ever saw. It wasn’t a number or a sign or anything like that, it was a feeling. He could even see it on people in films or on TV. Which was why it had shocked him, when he was old enough to think about it, that he couldn’t tell when or how he would die. Perhaps he wouldn’t. Perhaps he would live forever.
He didn’t take that thought seriously, though. It was just that he had always wondered what it would be like to meet someone and not know.
He was about fifteen when he had built up the courage to try and do something about it. At school he had been a loner. He had few friends, and he knew that this was his own doing. The idea of getting close to someone and forever being reminded that they would pass away had made him avoid getting close to people. But then a girl in his class was going to die in a house fire. With six weeks to go, he decided to risk talking to her, hoping to build up enough of a rapport to somehow stop it. He had failed, of course. She had died, and he realised that he was, at present at least, powerless to stop it.
At first he had thought that maybe it was because he was young and inexperienced, but time showed him that no matter what, he would always be powerless.
But it did teach him something important. It showed him that getting close to people was not an awful thing. He had known her since he was eight, and had only come to know her for six weeks, and he had loved every minute of it.
When he was twenty-five, his sister gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. His sister would live until she was eighty-two. She would die of a stroke. Her daughter would live until she was one-hundred and five! He realised then that she would outlive him, and he felt good knowing that here was someone who he would not have to say goodbye to.
And then, at the age of thirty, he fell in love. She had months left until she died in a car crash, and he hated himself for falling for her, but what could he do? She was beautiful and funny, and all the rest of that good stuff. And he loved being around her.
He had only tried to change people’s death-date a handful of times and it had always ended in disaster. But now he was determined to stop it. Unfortunately, he had no idea how.
He considered trying to make her stay home that night, but he knew it wouldn’t work.
Once, he saw a homeless man who would die of exposure that night. He sat down and began to speak to him, learning his name and how he came to be in the situation he was. He took the man to a hostel and paid for him to spend the night there. He came back the next night to find that the homeless man had been thrown out for obscene behaviour. He had frozen to death at the back doors of the hostel.
Because of this, he was sure only direct action would work. If he had taken the man home, kept him warm, then he probably would have survived that night.
And so he had arranged to be in the car with her on that fateful day.
She had insisted on driving, and he sat in the passenger’s seat on edge. He forced himself to laugh and smile, and he made conversation like it was nothing. Like he couldn’t sense her death getting closer by the minute.
Eventually as they drove a fog descended over the road. Visibility was reduced to practically nothing, and he felt as if he might have a heart attack. The very universe seemed to be conspiring against him. With seconds to go, he spotted headlights coming towards them. They were on the wrong side of the road, the driver clearly disorientated.
Time slowed. He saw her panicking, not reacting quickly enough as the vehicle drew closer and closer. But he was prepared, he had known that something big was going to happen. He had the advantage.
He reached over and yanked on the wheel. Not too much, he didn’t want them to roll, but just enough to try and steer them clear.
And so he sat at the café and sipped his coffee while watching the people go past. And eventually he stood up, buttoned up his jacked and adjusted his tie. Then he picked up the flowers he was going to leave at her graveside, and left.
| It began as a young child, but then it was only a feeling that came over him at times. As he grew into his teenage years, he began to fully understand what he was capable of. At first he could only sense the impending death of people he had a personal connection with, but with time he could merely lock eyes with anyone and know their time of death and the general cause.
This was a burden he did not want, and as a result he struggled with crippling depression, unable to share his secret with anyone. Walking around looking at his shoes became the norm, trying to avoid catching a glance and knowing the demise of yet another person. Even so, it was impossible to ignore everyone all the time, and the weight on his shoulders grew day by day.
As he walked down the sidewalk on a busy day, he found himself accidentally making way too much eye contact, and was particularly saddened by the young father that would die from cancer in only five years. He wanted so badly to help him, but he knew he couldn't fight the disease that was going to take his life. All he could do was live with the knowledge of his awful fate.
Lost in his thoughts, he didn't see the woman going the other way until their shoulders collided. Her phone went flying out of her hands, and as he apologized he bent down to pick it up for her. They locked eyes, and the feeling hit him harder than it ever had before.
*Two minutes. Car accident.*
"Ma'am, you're not going to believe me, but you need to go inside now. Please get away from the street."
He spoke without thinking, still stunned by what was going on. He had never encountered someone this close to death, and he couldn't sit by and do nothing. This wasn't a disease, a car accident could be prevented.
"Why?" She asked, grabbing her phone and backing up with a confused and scared look sweeping across her face.
"Please, just trust me. Something really bad is going to happen if you don't get away from the street." He tried to explain.
"Get away from me." The woman said, clearly afraid he was going to do something to her.
He reached for her arm, and it was a terrible decision. She took off running from him, and never saw the car blowing through the red light.
He never tried to save anyone again. He could only know; he was powerless to stop fate. |
|
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | "What?" The old man stroked his long white beard in disbelief.
"I asked if there are any hot girls in it for me" said Rick as he put his legs on his desk.
The old man frowned "Well there is this tsundere w.."
"No thanks" Rick interrupted him. "I want one that would do ANYTHING for me. Next please"
"But the world needs you" The old man said
"NEXT!!"
The old man left the room and a young woman entered the room. *Perhaps this one will be better* Rick thought.
"Are there any hot girls in it for me?"
| He ducked beneath the low lying roofs. In this part of town, the buildings were old, and the populace generally lacking sobriety. The alleyways were the main passage of travel for young Josef, only using main streets when absolutely necessary. While not swimming in despair and poverty, his pockets were as deep as the thrones.
Family was on the other side of town, a respectable couple part of the leading guild of merchants, trading silver and managing several counting houses. Josef, like his father was quick minded, good with numbers and generally an exceptional fellow.
However, he had avoided that his entire life. Being exceptional.
While others bumbling around the town hawked goods, begged or soldiered around in patrols, he was different. Gangs of children went on pick pocketing, adolescents tripping their way into adulthood, spreading their legs on cold cobblestone. Alleyways always provided a nice dark quiet spot for all other normal residents of the capital.
However, never before had the capital seen an albino.
Or rather, seen an albino survive the king's wrath. And simply, by the nature of his skin, Josef, otherwise leading a mediocre life, avoided *everything*. He cooked his own stews, made his own money through a private counting house that he owned, he did nothing out of place. He was a respectable individual who, unlike others, sought nothing extraordinary than to live a normal life.
As it would happen, he would be thrust into this story irrespective of his own will.
It was the morning and the light which would have flooded his room, was held at bay by the his stone walls. He had no windows in the tiny room that were his living quarters, on the third floor of his counting house and secretly stashed behind his office. Striking a match, he lit the room with a dull yellow light, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimly engaging environment. Aside from his bed, he allowed himself a small bookshelf with his journals and recordings of events of notice or persons that would be watched. His clothing lay in a wooden trunk, seemingly ordinary, but filled with records and scrolls far more valuable than the king's crown.
In that chest, lay his mask, dawned and painted white. It covered his entire head and would have been more appropriately labelled a helmet, save the designs that were drawn onto it.
Against the bright white mask's base colour, a dull orange and bright red emblem flanked the sides, depicting lions on both sides. On the front, black streaks ran from the forehead down to the chin in one ugly stripe, one in across.
This was his identity, his true face to the world. Or if the world was his trusted friend and steward, that is.
Josef began his morning ritual. A brief prayer to the 4 Gods, 17 Monks of Sacrilege and a Word of Damnation to the Traitorous 3. Afterwords, he perfumed himself liberally with a peppermint lime spray after washing in a small basin at the end of his bed.
Then, collecting himself, he dressed himself in a plain red tunic and orange jacket, wearing a durable but smooth trousers, with one leg of the trousers white and the other black.
It was approximately half past the first hour of business. He opened the door to his passage to his office. A few strides and his was to the piece of artwork that the passage hide behind. The piece of art itself was a facade, a cheap replication of a masterpiece from the *ancien* Thuros.
Delicately placing the painting as if it wasn't moved, he struck up another match, to light the inside of his safe. Yes, within his safe, was a passage to his quarters.
He undid the lock from within, a lengthy process, but worthwhile for the security and privacy that it entitled him. After 20 minutes, he emerged from finally from his safe, to meet the day.
Standing in front of his desk was none other than his trusted steward, dressed in a fine black silk suit with a cravate of white.
"Good morning Baron Winston Ver Ballig. We have a busy day in front of us. A number of missing coins, several floating bodies, and the king's rebuke. Whenever you are ready m'lord." His flat speech was quick and sharp.
"Good morning my friend Jasper. Let us begin." A wide grin crossed his face.
After all, who said the character had be the good guy? |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | Listen here, i'll only tell you once.
I'm special, but not in a good way.
Everyday something that you only see on T.V happens to me.
Brightly colored letters, shady mails for a "Vacation", a "job" as a night guard at a museum.
I have to dig through this shit everyday to continue on with my life.
But now i'm different.
They call me an opportunist, i call myself an entrepreneur.
People want the thrill of a lifetime? They come to me.
Want to go on a bank heist? I got a suspicious mail for you.
Time traveling? I got a few friends.
Want to become the protagonist of some cheesy anime? I got a few high school enrollment letters from Japan.
Everyday is an opportunity, but not for me. For you.
| He ducked beneath the low lying roofs. In this part of town, the buildings were old, and the populace generally lacking sobriety. The alleyways were the main passage of travel for young Josef, only using main streets when absolutely necessary. While not swimming in despair and poverty, his pockets were as deep as the thrones.
Family was on the other side of town, a respectable couple part of the leading guild of merchants, trading silver and managing several counting houses. Josef, like his father was quick minded, good with numbers and generally an exceptional fellow.
However, he had avoided that his entire life. Being exceptional.
While others bumbling around the town hawked goods, begged or soldiered around in patrols, he was different. Gangs of children went on pick pocketing, adolescents tripping their way into adulthood, spreading their legs on cold cobblestone. Alleyways always provided a nice dark quiet spot for all other normal residents of the capital.
However, never before had the capital seen an albino.
Or rather, seen an albino survive the king's wrath. And simply, by the nature of his skin, Josef, otherwise leading a mediocre life, avoided *everything*. He cooked his own stews, made his own money through a private counting house that he owned, he did nothing out of place. He was a respectable individual who, unlike others, sought nothing extraordinary than to live a normal life.
As it would happen, he would be thrust into this story irrespective of his own will.
It was the morning and the light which would have flooded his room, was held at bay by the his stone walls. He had no windows in the tiny room that were his living quarters, on the third floor of his counting house and secretly stashed behind his office. Striking a match, he lit the room with a dull yellow light, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimly engaging environment. Aside from his bed, he allowed himself a small bookshelf with his journals and recordings of events of notice or persons that would be watched. His clothing lay in a wooden trunk, seemingly ordinary, but filled with records and scrolls far more valuable than the king's crown.
In that chest, lay his mask, dawned and painted white. It covered his entire head and would have been more appropriately labelled a helmet, save the designs that were drawn onto it.
Against the bright white mask's base colour, a dull orange and bright red emblem flanked the sides, depicting lions on both sides. On the front, black streaks ran from the forehead down to the chin in one ugly stripe, one in across.
This was his identity, his true face to the world. Or if the world was his trusted friend and steward, that is.
Josef began his morning ritual. A brief prayer to the 4 Gods, 17 Monks of Sacrilege and a Word of Damnation to the Traitorous 3. Afterwords, he perfumed himself liberally with a peppermint lime spray after washing in a small basin at the end of his bed.
Then, collecting himself, he dressed himself in a plain red tunic and orange jacket, wearing a durable but smooth trousers, with one leg of the trousers white and the other black.
It was approximately half past the first hour of business. He opened the door to his passage to his office. A few strides and his was to the piece of artwork that the passage hide behind. The piece of art itself was a facade, a cheap replication of a masterpiece from the *ancien* Thuros.
Delicately placing the painting as if it wasn't moved, he struck up another match, to light the inside of his safe. Yes, within his safe, was a passage to his quarters.
He undid the lock from within, a lengthy process, but worthwhile for the security and privacy that it entitled him. After 20 minutes, he emerged from finally from his safe, to meet the day.
Standing in front of his desk was none other than his trusted steward, dressed in a fine black silk suit with a cravate of white.
"Good morning Baron Winston Ver Ballig. We have a busy day in front of us. A number of missing coins, several floating bodies, and the king's rebuke. Whenever you are ready m'lord." His flat speech was quick and sharp.
"Good morning my friend Jasper. Let us begin." A wide grin crossed his face.
After all, who said the character had be the good guy? |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | Bruce Brad Bayne was a nerd, so he knew when something wasn't right when he received a letter from a white bunny in a hurry, inviting him to a very *special* school. He thought it to be best to throw it away, but it would always find some annoying way back to him.
His mother had disappeared under mysterious circumstances when he was just a little boy and her case has been cold for years. He had never met his father so he lived with his aunt and uncle for most of his life and with his vicious cousin Victor Villain. Victor always wanted to be the best at everything, proving his superiority by bullying his skinny, inconspicuous cousin. So Bruce had let him. He didn't want it all to evolve into a cheesy life-long rivalry that would have to end in Bruce overcoming his cousin in a dramatic climax during a rainstorm. His lack of interest caused Victor to lose any point in bullying him and the two actually became good buddies.
Sometimes he could hear the letter call for him, that in the special school he would learn something unbelievable about himself that would change his entire life. It would also offer him hints to where his mothers has been gone and who his real father was, but after Bruce had gone through years in therapy, he knew to let it go.
Another time, after having been struck by lightning while he was being bitten by a radioactive vampire-alien during puberty, he received a call from an unknown number, so he decided to ignore it.
Life as an ordinary teenager was hard enough, but it was the only life Bruce ever wanted. He didn't need to save the world or to become the worlds most powerful ninja-wizard-pirate to be happy. His wallflower friends might have jumped at every oppurtunity to be a hero, but he only wanted to be like the others, hang out with friends, have a nice job and one day, who knows, start a family. | He ducked beneath the low lying roofs. In this part of town, the buildings were old, and the populace generally lacking sobriety. The alleyways were the main passage of travel for young Josef, only using main streets when absolutely necessary. While not swimming in despair and poverty, his pockets were as deep as the thrones.
Family was on the other side of town, a respectable couple part of the leading guild of merchants, trading silver and managing several counting houses. Josef, like his father was quick minded, good with numbers and generally an exceptional fellow.
However, he had avoided that his entire life. Being exceptional.
While others bumbling around the town hawked goods, begged or soldiered around in patrols, he was different. Gangs of children went on pick pocketing, adolescents tripping their way into adulthood, spreading their legs on cold cobblestone. Alleyways always provided a nice dark quiet spot for all other normal residents of the capital.
However, never before had the capital seen an albino.
Or rather, seen an albino survive the king's wrath. And simply, by the nature of his skin, Josef, otherwise leading a mediocre life, avoided *everything*. He cooked his own stews, made his own money through a private counting house that he owned, he did nothing out of place. He was a respectable individual who, unlike others, sought nothing extraordinary than to live a normal life.
As it would happen, he would be thrust into this story irrespective of his own will.
It was the morning and the light which would have flooded his room, was held at bay by the his stone walls. He had no windows in the tiny room that were his living quarters, on the third floor of his counting house and secretly stashed behind his office. Striking a match, he lit the room with a dull yellow light, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimly engaging environment. Aside from his bed, he allowed himself a small bookshelf with his journals and recordings of events of notice or persons that would be watched. His clothing lay in a wooden trunk, seemingly ordinary, but filled with records and scrolls far more valuable than the king's crown.
In that chest, lay his mask, dawned and painted white. It covered his entire head and would have been more appropriately labelled a helmet, save the designs that were drawn onto it.
Against the bright white mask's base colour, a dull orange and bright red emblem flanked the sides, depicting lions on both sides. On the front, black streaks ran from the forehead down to the chin in one ugly stripe, one in across.
This was his identity, his true face to the world. Or if the world was his trusted friend and steward, that is.
Josef began his morning ritual. A brief prayer to the 4 Gods, 17 Monks of Sacrilege and a Word of Damnation to the Traitorous 3. Afterwords, he perfumed himself liberally with a peppermint lime spray after washing in a small basin at the end of his bed.
Then, collecting himself, he dressed himself in a plain red tunic and orange jacket, wearing a durable but smooth trousers, with one leg of the trousers white and the other black.
It was approximately half past the first hour of business. He opened the door to his passage to his office. A few strides and his was to the piece of artwork that the passage hide behind. The piece of art itself was a facade, a cheap replication of a masterpiece from the *ancien* Thuros.
Delicately placing the painting as if it wasn't moved, he struck up another match, to light the inside of his safe. Yes, within his safe, was a passage to his quarters.
He undid the lock from within, a lengthy process, but worthwhile for the security and privacy that it entitled him. After 20 minutes, he emerged from finally from his safe, to meet the day.
Standing in front of his desk was none other than his trusted steward, dressed in a fine black silk suit with a cravate of white.
"Good morning Baron Winston Ver Ballig. We have a busy day in front of us. A number of missing coins, several floating bodies, and the king's rebuke. Whenever you are ready m'lord." His flat speech was quick and sharp.
"Good morning my friend Jasper. Let us begin." A wide grin crossed his face.
After all, who said the character had be the good guy? |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | "Hey, Rob! I was wondering if you had any plans tonight? I heard that new seafood restaurant across town is opening-"
"Sorry, Denise, but I have something to do, and I don't have time."
"Maybe next week?"
"How about never?"
"Okay..."
*******
"Rob, get in the car *now*!"
"Wha- why?"
"No time to explain, just-"
"I'm good, thanks."
"But-"
"We're done here."
******
"Ah, Robert. A pleasure to finally meet. We've been looking for you for a *very* long time..."
"Not interested."
"You see, Robert, I have-"
"Don't care."
"You walk out that office, and you girlfriend gets it."
"Eh, I didn't like Denise that much anyway."
*******
"Hey, Robby! The gang and I were just about to check out the old Indian burial ground for our annual orgy!"
"Yeah, I'll stay home tonight."
"How come, man? We've been doing this for *years*!"
"I've just got a bad feeling about this year. Oh, and, if you get the chance, invest in a better home security system."
******
*Good morning, Agent 512. If you are receiving this message, the Organization is-*
"Wrong number."
******
"Guten tag, FutureAmerikaner! Vhere is zeh President kurrently residing?"
"The White House, I guess? Now scram, I'm busy."
"Danke."
*******
"N-notice me, senpai!"
"Get your ass away from my face, or else I yell rape." | He ducked beneath the low lying roofs. In this part of town, the buildings were old, and the populace generally lacking sobriety. The alleyways were the main passage of travel for young Josef, only using main streets when absolutely necessary. While not swimming in despair and poverty, his pockets were as deep as the thrones.
Family was on the other side of town, a respectable couple part of the leading guild of merchants, trading silver and managing several counting houses. Josef, like his father was quick minded, good with numbers and generally an exceptional fellow.
However, he had avoided that his entire life. Being exceptional.
While others bumbling around the town hawked goods, begged or soldiered around in patrols, he was different. Gangs of children went on pick pocketing, adolescents tripping their way into adulthood, spreading their legs on cold cobblestone. Alleyways always provided a nice dark quiet spot for all other normal residents of the capital.
However, never before had the capital seen an albino.
Or rather, seen an albino survive the king's wrath. And simply, by the nature of his skin, Josef, otherwise leading a mediocre life, avoided *everything*. He cooked his own stews, made his own money through a private counting house that he owned, he did nothing out of place. He was a respectable individual who, unlike others, sought nothing extraordinary than to live a normal life.
As it would happen, he would be thrust into this story irrespective of his own will.
It was the morning and the light which would have flooded his room, was held at bay by the his stone walls. He had no windows in the tiny room that were his living quarters, on the third floor of his counting house and secretly stashed behind his office. Striking a match, he lit the room with a dull yellow light, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimly engaging environment. Aside from his bed, he allowed himself a small bookshelf with his journals and recordings of events of notice or persons that would be watched. His clothing lay in a wooden trunk, seemingly ordinary, but filled with records and scrolls far more valuable than the king's crown.
In that chest, lay his mask, dawned and painted white. It covered his entire head and would have been more appropriately labelled a helmet, save the designs that were drawn onto it.
Against the bright white mask's base colour, a dull orange and bright red emblem flanked the sides, depicting lions on both sides. On the front, black streaks ran from the forehead down to the chin in one ugly stripe, one in across.
This was his identity, his true face to the world. Or if the world was his trusted friend and steward, that is.
Josef began his morning ritual. A brief prayer to the 4 Gods, 17 Monks of Sacrilege and a Word of Damnation to the Traitorous 3. Afterwords, he perfumed himself liberally with a peppermint lime spray after washing in a small basin at the end of his bed.
Then, collecting himself, he dressed himself in a plain red tunic and orange jacket, wearing a durable but smooth trousers, with one leg of the trousers white and the other black.
It was approximately half past the first hour of business. He opened the door to his passage to his office. A few strides and his was to the piece of artwork that the passage hide behind. The piece of art itself was a facade, a cheap replication of a masterpiece from the *ancien* Thuros.
Delicately placing the painting as if it wasn't moved, he struck up another match, to light the inside of his safe. Yes, within his safe, was a passage to his quarters.
He undid the lock from within, a lengthy process, but worthwhile for the security and privacy that it entitled him. After 20 minutes, he emerged from finally from his safe, to meet the day.
Standing in front of his desk was none other than his trusted steward, dressed in a fine black silk suit with a cravate of white.
"Good morning Baron Winston Ver Ballig. We have a busy day in front of us. A number of missing coins, several floating bodies, and the king's rebuke. Whenever you are ready m'lord." His flat speech was quick and sharp.
"Good morning my friend Jasper. Let us begin." A wide grin crossed his face.
After all, who said the character had be the good guy? |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | Today was going so well too.
It was your typical wednesday and Gordon was on his way home from skipping school. Not that he was a bad student but the new transfer student had asked him to meet after school and gauging from his heavy accent and aloof personality that what he had to say wasn't anything he'd like to here.
As Gordon was taking in the perfect weather on his way home he couldn't help but notice the three thugs across the street picking on a fellow classmate.
Typical.
Said classmate had never missed a day of school in his life and here he was being bullied by three guys that Gordon felt could easily take if he tried. The whole situation felt lazy and quickly thrown together.
Gordon pulled out his phone and called the police and told them their was a robbery on the street he was on than quickly jumped a fence and took a new route home.
After a rather peaceful walk Gordon arrived home.
and there he was.
Gordon wasn't greeted by his foster parents but by an older gentleman with a long beard and dressed in a garb from a culture that Gordon couldn't put his finger on.
'Hello my lord." said the man who know doubt was here to teach me some mystical magic or kung fu.
So it seems Im the son of some old king from another dimension where magic is real I was spirited away as a kid to protect me. Since its my destiny to save said world from a great evil.
I was about to tell the old man to fuck himself when it hit me. What would be the first thing a protagonist would do in a situation like this?
He would deny his fate and say all he wanted was a normal life before ultimately taking responsibility and gave in to whatever stupid destiny he had.
Shit.
Gordon was stuck in a conundrum. Its not that he wanted a normal life so much that he didn't want to live in such a stupid cliche.
Suddenly an idea popped in his head it was a long shot but it was his only choice.
Gordon breathed in deeply and readied his reply.
"Yeah that sounds great." Gordon said hoping the enthusiasm in his voice would hide his disdain.
"You must understand the fate of... wait what." the old man said in mild disbelieve.
"Are you kidding I get to be king and magic powers thats so freakin cool."
"I... um." The old man looked like he was struggling to think of something to say.
"I bet I meat a super hot warrior girl who's weghts 80lbs but can overpower giants, oh man I can't wait."
Their was a long silence every second felt like a millennium and finally the old man spoke.
"I think theres been a mistake."
"Oh." Gordon desperately tried to hide his smile as he spoke.
"Yeah... I think... I think Ill just let myself out."
"Ok have a nice day." said Gordon as he opened the door.
"Yeah... you to." and with that the old man left.
As soon as Gordon shut the door he collapsed against it in relief another disaster averted. He knew this wasn't going to be the last prophecy he was apart of but he will take that challenge when it comes. But today he was free from mediocrity.
| He ducked beneath the low lying roofs. In this part of town, the buildings were old, and the populace generally lacking sobriety. The alleyways were the main passage of travel for young Josef, only using main streets when absolutely necessary. While not swimming in despair and poverty, his pockets were as deep as the thrones.
Family was on the other side of town, a respectable couple part of the leading guild of merchants, trading silver and managing several counting houses. Josef, like his father was quick minded, good with numbers and generally an exceptional fellow.
However, he had avoided that his entire life. Being exceptional.
While others bumbling around the town hawked goods, begged or soldiered around in patrols, he was different. Gangs of children went on pick pocketing, adolescents tripping their way into adulthood, spreading their legs on cold cobblestone. Alleyways always provided a nice dark quiet spot for all other normal residents of the capital.
However, never before had the capital seen an albino.
Or rather, seen an albino survive the king's wrath. And simply, by the nature of his skin, Josef, otherwise leading a mediocre life, avoided *everything*. He cooked his own stews, made his own money through a private counting house that he owned, he did nothing out of place. He was a respectable individual who, unlike others, sought nothing extraordinary than to live a normal life.
As it would happen, he would be thrust into this story irrespective of his own will.
It was the morning and the light which would have flooded his room, was held at bay by the his stone walls. He had no windows in the tiny room that were his living quarters, on the third floor of his counting house and secretly stashed behind his office. Striking a match, he lit the room with a dull yellow light, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimly engaging environment. Aside from his bed, he allowed himself a small bookshelf with his journals and recordings of events of notice or persons that would be watched. His clothing lay in a wooden trunk, seemingly ordinary, but filled with records and scrolls far more valuable than the king's crown.
In that chest, lay his mask, dawned and painted white. It covered his entire head and would have been more appropriately labelled a helmet, save the designs that were drawn onto it.
Against the bright white mask's base colour, a dull orange and bright red emblem flanked the sides, depicting lions on both sides. On the front, black streaks ran from the forehead down to the chin in one ugly stripe, one in across.
This was his identity, his true face to the world. Or if the world was his trusted friend and steward, that is.
Josef began his morning ritual. A brief prayer to the 4 Gods, 17 Monks of Sacrilege and a Word of Damnation to the Traitorous 3. Afterwords, he perfumed himself liberally with a peppermint lime spray after washing in a small basin at the end of his bed.
Then, collecting himself, he dressed himself in a plain red tunic and orange jacket, wearing a durable but smooth trousers, with one leg of the trousers white and the other black.
It was approximately half past the first hour of business. He opened the door to his passage to his office. A few strides and his was to the piece of artwork that the passage hide behind. The piece of art itself was a facade, a cheap replication of a masterpiece from the *ancien* Thuros.
Delicately placing the painting as if it wasn't moved, he struck up another match, to light the inside of his safe. Yes, within his safe, was a passage to his quarters.
He undid the lock from within, a lengthy process, but worthwhile for the security and privacy that it entitled him. After 20 minutes, he emerged from finally from his safe, to meet the day.
Standing in front of his desk was none other than his trusted steward, dressed in a fine black silk suit with a cravate of white.
"Good morning Baron Winston Ver Ballig. We have a busy day in front of us. A number of missing coins, several floating bodies, and the king's rebuke. Whenever you are ready m'lord." His flat speech was quick and sharp.
"Good morning my friend Jasper. Let us begin." A wide grin crossed his face.
After all, who said the character had be the good guy? |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | **I Am NPC**
I feel blessed to live in a pretty nondescript town. There’s a weapons shop, armor shop, tavern, side-quest alley and mini-game market down by the river. We’re not too close to the bandits in the East or the royal capital in the North. All in all, the winters are pretty mild, the summers aren’t too hot and the day/night cycle is a good ten minutes, which takes some adjusting, but at least we’re not stuck in permanent day or permanent night unless a Main Character comes along and decides to change it. I hate the god-awful warp/save spot set in the square in the middle of town. It looks fucking terrible, to be honest, all bright green and pulsing out of the sky day and night. I can’t even begin to imagine how much energy it takes to maintain it. Still, it’s good for tourism and cuts down on the amount of horses in town, which keeps the streets noticeably clear of giant piles of horse turds, so at least there’s that.
Some of them seem pretty nice. I’ve met a few Mike A.’s who were decent folks and while I have met a number of dickbag111’s and sexywifequeen452’s who rubbed me the wrong way, I’ve generally done a good bit of trade here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I like wearing a long, forest green cloak with a hood. It suits me. I don’t like it when people see my eyes. That’s how they always figure out that I’m not actually like the others, with their scripted conversation trees and penchant for constantly referring to Main Characters by their names over and over again in a way that any normal person would obviously not do. NPC’s don’t have violet eyes, you know. It’s just not...done.
Still, I find myself doing a good turn of business, and as long as their gold’s good (there’s really no such thing as fake gold here, which is nice), I don’t mind. I do business out of an abandoned store that was forgotten and has to be entered through an invisible gap in the wall. It’s janky, but it’s mine, and the difficulty finding it means that I don’t get any Level 1 morons endlessly browsing through my wares with a chip on their shoulders and nothing in their pockets but hot air.
Apparently, there used to only be one Original Main Character in this world. But when he (or she, but most people always assume it’s a dude- typical) disappeared mysteriously halfway through the Chosen One’s Quest to Rid the World of Darkness, suddenly it became possible for anyone and their little sister to join the world and attempt to continue where the Original Main Character let off. Now, I don’t know about you, but the way these things tend to go, it’s almost like the Quest is an excuse for the Gods of this world to basically make things as fucking dark and depressing as possible. Most people are stuck halfway through the original objective before they start becoming distracted by mini-games and side-quests. If I had a piece of gold for every time I’ve seen a would-be Main Character stumble out of the mini-casino mini-game to the save point after ten hours of rolling the slots, I’d be rich.
Well, ok, I’m already rich, but you know what I mean.
When they come to my shop, they’re looking for something a little...different. I’m happy to give them what they want...for a price. Sure, I don’t have to pay rent, but a player’s got to eat, you know?
Most Main Characters eventually get disillusioned with the Quest. I can’t blame ‘em. Finding out that every step is getting you closer and closer to The End is fucking depressing, if you ask me. Sometimes I wish I could be like Colonel Bobbert in the pub with his three dialogue responses, thinking only of his ale, pretty women, and joking about what’s in your pocket, but I’m not.
So I offer them side quests. Ones that you can’t find anywhere else. They keep changing, too. It makes them feel special, like they’re the real Chosen One.
They don’t know what’s in the cellar, and I’m not about to tell them.
They can have it, you know? The glory, the fame. I just want some money to drink and gamble until I can’t see that stupid beacon turning the sky a sickly green, even in the middle of the fucking day.
Sometimes I’ll travel. I don’t need to use the warp point. Those came...after things changed. But I can’t stay too long in any one place, because that gets me recognized by some of the less dimwitted NPCs and I can’t stand them and their lectures and accusations of laziness. So I move on, and I hide in my secret shop and I hoard and spend my gold. I’m no hero, but then again, who says I have to be?
I never asked to be what I am. But I can sure as hell choose what I want to be. | He ducked beneath the low lying roofs. In this part of town, the buildings were old, and the populace generally lacking sobriety. The alleyways were the main passage of travel for young Josef, only using main streets when absolutely necessary. While not swimming in despair and poverty, his pockets were as deep as the thrones.
Family was on the other side of town, a respectable couple part of the leading guild of merchants, trading silver and managing several counting houses. Josef, like his father was quick minded, good with numbers and generally an exceptional fellow.
However, he had avoided that his entire life. Being exceptional.
While others bumbling around the town hawked goods, begged or soldiered around in patrols, he was different. Gangs of children went on pick pocketing, adolescents tripping their way into adulthood, spreading their legs on cold cobblestone. Alleyways always provided a nice dark quiet spot for all other normal residents of the capital.
However, never before had the capital seen an albino.
Or rather, seen an albino survive the king's wrath. And simply, by the nature of his skin, Josef, otherwise leading a mediocre life, avoided *everything*. He cooked his own stews, made his own money through a private counting house that he owned, he did nothing out of place. He was a respectable individual who, unlike others, sought nothing extraordinary than to live a normal life.
As it would happen, he would be thrust into this story irrespective of his own will.
It was the morning and the light which would have flooded his room, was held at bay by the his stone walls. He had no windows in the tiny room that were his living quarters, on the third floor of his counting house and secretly stashed behind his office. Striking a match, he lit the room with a dull yellow light, allowing his eyes to adjust to the dimly engaging environment. Aside from his bed, he allowed himself a small bookshelf with his journals and recordings of events of notice or persons that would be watched. His clothing lay in a wooden trunk, seemingly ordinary, but filled with records and scrolls far more valuable than the king's crown.
In that chest, lay his mask, dawned and painted white. It covered his entire head and would have been more appropriately labelled a helmet, save the designs that were drawn onto it.
Against the bright white mask's base colour, a dull orange and bright red emblem flanked the sides, depicting lions on both sides. On the front, black streaks ran from the forehead down to the chin in one ugly stripe, one in across.
This was his identity, his true face to the world. Or if the world was his trusted friend and steward, that is.
Josef began his morning ritual. A brief prayer to the 4 Gods, 17 Monks of Sacrilege and a Word of Damnation to the Traitorous 3. Afterwords, he perfumed himself liberally with a peppermint lime spray after washing in a small basin at the end of his bed.
Then, collecting himself, he dressed himself in a plain red tunic and orange jacket, wearing a durable but smooth trousers, with one leg of the trousers white and the other black.
It was approximately half past the first hour of business. He opened the door to his passage to his office. A few strides and his was to the piece of artwork that the passage hide behind. The piece of art itself was a facade, a cheap replication of a masterpiece from the *ancien* Thuros.
Delicately placing the painting as if it wasn't moved, he struck up another match, to light the inside of his safe. Yes, within his safe, was a passage to his quarters.
He undid the lock from within, a lengthy process, but worthwhile for the security and privacy that it entitled him. After 20 minutes, he emerged from finally from his safe, to meet the day.
Standing in front of his desk was none other than his trusted steward, dressed in a fine black silk suit with a cravate of white.
"Good morning Baron Winston Ver Ballig. We have a busy day in front of us. A number of missing coins, several floating bodies, and the king's rebuke. Whenever you are ready m'lord." His flat speech was quick and sharp.
"Good morning my friend Jasper. Let us begin." A wide grin crossed his face.
After all, who said the character had be the good guy? |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | Listen here, i'll only tell you once.
I'm special, but not in a good way.
Everyday something that you only see on T.V happens to me.
Brightly colored letters, shady mails for a "Vacation", a "job" as a night guard at a museum.
I have to dig through this shit everyday to continue on with my life.
But now i'm different.
They call me an opportunist, i call myself an entrepreneur.
People want the thrill of a lifetime? They come to me.
Want to go on a bank heist? I got a suspicious mail for you.
Time traveling? I got a few friends.
Want to become the protagonist of some cheesy anime? I got a few high school enrollment letters from Japan.
Everyday is an opportunity, but not for me. For you.
| His name was Bill. So he changed it to Bartleby.
That had happened on Friday, at 10:32am. The lawyer and judge who presided over the proceedings were silent, efficient, and sticklers for properly executed paperwork. The sound of a staple being applied to a stack of forms was the final punctuation on the ceremony. The judge had been a woman. The lawyer was currently a woman. Bartleby had designs on being a woman. But he found heels impractical for playing tennis, and didn't *think* he looked good in leather pants. About this, he was very wrong.
**Sunday, 3:12PM**
When young men hefting books by Gogol and wearing beards with suspenders invaded his neighborhood coffee shops, Bartleby changed his name back to Bill, legally. He also stopped drinking coffee, for fear he would meet the love of his life. Her name was Jillian. While Bartelby was sure suspenders should not be worn on beards, he was not about to tell *her* that. This was for fear she would die of rare cancer, or in a random carjacking.
**Monday, 9PM**
Having answered his cell phone, Bartleby (for that was the name in his heart, if not on his lips) discovered an intruder was calling him from the upstairs bedroom of his house. As the creeper quietly made his way down the steps, four of five stairs croaked like a different breed of frog. The volume of each throaty brawp shook the house. Bartleby, in a leisurely way, went to his kitchen and opened the junk drawer. There, he found and inflated a large, olive green balloon. When Bartleby popped the balloon, the psycho killer's feet turned into banana peels, which were effective for walking down marble stairs with no grip tape on them. The back of the intruder's head soundly missed the large coat hook in the front hallway, and so he lived, and went on to become a fine small-town librarian.
**Wednesday, 3:43AM**
Jillian revealed herself to be fond of musical theater, motorbikes, and any word with an Anglican spelling, particularly "theater". When Bartleby finally spoke to her as they both bought motor oil, she turned herself into helium, and tickled the back of his throat.
Friday 3:33PM
The Ministry announced there would be no weekend, for tax reasons. Bartleby and Jillian canceled their order for a swan boat at the park, went to work, and, on the way, burned their journals while they drove. Bartleby's lunch was stolen as he fanned the flames. Jillian broke her wrist while honking her horn, earning her a citation. For bravery.
Saturday and Sunday, 12:34pm and 5:32pm, respectively.
Having been neglected by the Ministry, Saturday changed his name to Bartleby, and Sunday changed *her* name to Jillian. Of Bill, there was never any sign, but it is postulated that he moved to Austin, Texas, where he had no film career to speak of. |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | Today was going so well too.
It was your typical wednesday and Gordon was on his way home from skipping school. Not that he was a bad student but the new transfer student had asked him to meet after school and gauging from his heavy accent and aloof personality that what he had to say wasn't anything he'd like to here.
As Gordon was taking in the perfect weather on his way home he couldn't help but notice the three thugs across the street picking on a fellow classmate.
Typical.
Said classmate had never missed a day of school in his life and here he was being bullied by three guys that Gordon felt could easily take if he tried. The whole situation felt lazy and quickly thrown together.
Gordon pulled out his phone and called the police and told them their was a robbery on the street he was on than quickly jumped a fence and took a new route home.
After a rather peaceful walk Gordon arrived home.
and there he was.
Gordon wasn't greeted by his foster parents but by an older gentleman with a long beard and dressed in a garb from a culture that Gordon couldn't put his finger on.
'Hello my lord." said the man who know doubt was here to teach me some mystical magic or kung fu.
So it seems Im the son of some old king from another dimension where magic is real I was spirited away as a kid to protect me. Since its my destiny to save said world from a great evil.
I was about to tell the old man to fuck himself when it hit me. What would be the first thing a protagonist would do in a situation like this?
He would deny his fate and say all he wanted was a normal life before ultimately taking responsibility and gave in to whatever stupid destiny he had.
Shit.
Gordon was stuck in a conundrum. Its not that he wanted a normal life so much that he didn't want to live in such a stupid cliche.
Suddenly an idea popped in his head it was a long shot but it was his only choice.
Gordon breathed in deeply and readied his reply.
"Yeah that sounds great." Gordon said hoping the enthusiasm in his voice would hide his disdain.
"You must understand the fate of... wait what." the old man said in mild disbelieve.
"Are you kidding I get to be king and magic powers thats so freakin cool."
"I... um." The old man looked like he was struggling to think of something to say.
"I bet I meat a super hot warrior girl who's weghts 80lbs but can overpower giants, oh man I can't wait."
Their was a long silence every second felt like a millennium and finally the old man spoke.
"I think theres been a mistake."
"Oh." Gordon desperately tried to hide his smile as he spoke.
"Yeah... I think... I think Ill just let myself out."
"Ok have a nice day." said Gordon as he opened the door.
"Yeah... you to." and with that the old man left.
As soon as Gordon shut the door he collapsed against it in relief another disaster averted. He knew this wasn't going to be the last prophecy he was apart of but he will take that challenge when it comes. But today he was free from mediocrity.
| Bruce Brad Bayne was a nerd, so he knew when something wasn't right when he received a letter from a white bunny in a hurry, inviting him to a very *special* school. He thought it to be best to throw it away, but it would always find some annoying way back to him.
His mother had disappeared under mysterious circumstances when he was just a little boy and her case has been cold for years. He had never met his father so he lived with his aunt and uncle for most of his life and with his vicious cousin Victor Villain. Victor always wanted to be the best at everything, proving his superiority by bullying his skinny, inconspicuous cousin. So Bruce had let him. He didn't want it all to evolve into a cheesy life-long rivalry that would have to end in Bruce overcoming his cousin in a dramatic climax during a rainstorm. His lack of interest caused Victor to lose any point in bullying him and the two actually became good buddies.
Sometimes he could hear the letter call for him, that in the special school he would learn something unbelievable about himself that would change his entire life. It would also offer him hints to where his mothers has been gone and who his real father was, but after Bruce had gone through years in therapy, he knew to let it go.
Another time, after having been struck by lightning while he was being bitten by a radioactive vampire-alien during puberty, he received a call from an unknown number, so he decided to ignore it.
Life as an ordinary teenager was hard enough, but it was the only life Bruce ever wanted. He didn't need to save the world or to become the worlds most powerful ninja-wizard-pirate to be happy. His wallflower friends might have jumped at every oppurtunity to be a hero, but he only wanted to be like the others, hang out with friends, have a nice job and one day, who knows, start a family. |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | **I Am NPC**
I feel blessed to live in a pretty nondescript town. There’s a weapons shop, armor shop, tavern, side-quest alley and mini-game market down by the river. We’re not too close to the bandits in the East or the royal capital in the North. All in all, the winters are pretty mild, the summers aren’t too hot and the day/night cycle is a good ten minutes, which takes some adjusting, but at least we’re not stuck in permanent day or permanent night unless a Main Character comes along and decides to change it. I hate the god-awful warp/save spot set in the square in the middle of town. It looks fucking terrible, to be honest, all bright green and pulsing out of the sky day and night. I can’t even begin to imagine how much energy it takes to maintain it. Still, it’s good for tourism and cuts down on the amount of horses in town, which keeps the streets noticeably clear of giant piles of horse turds, so at least there’s that.
Some of them seem pretty nice. I’ve met a few Mike A.’s who were decent folks and while I have met a number of dickbag111’s and sexywifequeen452’s who rubbed me the wrong way, I’ve generally done a good bit of trade here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I like wearing a long, forest green cloak with a hood. It suits me. I don’t like it when people see my eyes. That’s how they always figure out that I’m not actually like the others, with their scripted conversation trees and penchant for constantly referring to Main Characters by their names over and over again in a way that any normal person would obviously not do. NPC’s don’t have violet eyes, you know. It’s just not...done.
Still, I find myself doing a good turn of business, and as long as their gold’s good (there’s really no such thing as fake gold here, which is nice), I don’t mind. I do business out of an abandoned store that was forgotten and has to be entered through an invisible gap in the wall. It’s janky, but it’s mine, and the difficulty finding it means that I don’t get any Level 1 morons endlessly browsing through my wares with a chip on their shoulders and nothing in their pockets but hot air.
Apparently, there used to only be one Original Main Character in this world. But when he (or she, but most people always assume it’s a dude- typical) disappeared mysteriously halfway through the Chosen One’s Quest to Rid the World of Darkness, suddenly it became possible for anyone and their little sister to join the world and attempt to continue where the Original Main Character let off. Now, I don’t know about you, but the way these things tend to go, it’s almost like the Quest is an excuse for the Gods of this world to basically make things as fucking dark and depressing as possible. Most people are stuck halfway through the original objective before they start becoming distracted by mini-games and side-quests. If I had a piece of gold for every time I’ve seen a would-be Main Character stumble out of the mini-casino mini-game to the save point after ten hours of rolling the slots, I’d be rich.
Well, ok, I’m already rich, but you know what I mean.
When they come to my shop, they’re looking for something a little...different. I’m happy to give them what they want...for a price. Sure, I don’t have to pay rent, but a player’s got to eat, you know?
Most Main Characters eventually get disillusioned with the Quest. I can’t blame ‘em. Finding out that every step is getting you closer and closer to The End is fucking depressing, if you ask me. Sometimes I wish I could be like Colonel Bobbert in the pub with his three dialogue responses, thinking only of his ale, pretty women, and joking about what’s in your pocket, but I’m not.
So I offer them side quests. Ones that you can’t find anywhere else. They keep changing, too. It makes them feel special, like they’re the real Chosen One.
They don’t know what’s in the cellar, and I’m not about to tell them.
They can have it, you know? The glory, the fame. I just want some money to drink and gamble until I can’t see that stupid beacon turning the sky a sickly green, even in the middle of the fucking day.
Sometimes I’ll travel. I don’t need to use the warp point. Those came...after things changed. But I can’t stay too long in any one place, because that gets me recognized by some of the less dimwitted NPCs and I can’t stand them and their lectures and accusations of laziness. So I move on, and I hide in my secret shop and I hoard and spend my gold. I’m no hero, but then again, who says I have to be?
I never asked to be what I am. But I can sure as hell choose what I want to be. | Bruce Brad Bayne was a nerd, so he knew when something wasn't right when he received a letter from a white bunny in a hurry, inviting him to a very *special* school. He thought it to be best to throw it away, but it would always find some annoying way back to him.
His mother had disappeared under mysterious circumstances when he was just a little boy and her case has been cold for years. He had never met his father so he lived with his aunt and uncle for most of his life and with his vicious cousin Victor Villain. Victor always wanted to be the best at everything, proving his superiority by bullying his skinny, inconspicuous cousin. So Bruce had let him. He didn't want it all to evolve into a cheesy life-long rivalry that would have to end in Bruce overcoming his cousin in a dramatic climax during a rainstorm. His lack of interest caused Victor to lose any point in bullying him and the two actually became good buddies.
Sometimes he could hear the letter call for him, that in the special school he would learn something unbelievable about himself that would change his entire life. It would also offer him hints to where his mothers has been gone and who his real father was, but after Bruce had gone through years in therapy, he knew to let it go.
Another time, after having been struck by lightning while he was being bitten by a radioactive vampire-alien during puberty, he received a call from an unknown number, so he decided to ignore it.
Life as an ordinary teenager was hard enough, but it was the only life Bruce ever wanted. He didn't need to save the world or to become the worlds most powerful ninja-wizard-pirate to be happy. His wallflower friends might have jumped at every oppurtunity to be a hero, but he only wanted to be like the others, hang out with friends, have a nice job and one day, who knows, start a family. |
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | **I Am NPC**
I feel blessed to live in a pretty nondescript town. There’s a weapons shop, armor shop, tavern, side-quest alley and mini-game market down by the river. We’re not too close to the bandits in the East or the royal capital in the North. All in all, the winters are pretty mild, the summers aren’t too hot and the day/night cycle is a good ten minutes, which takes some adjusting, but at least we’re not stuck in permanent day or permanent night unless a Main Character comes along and decides to change it. I hate the god-awful warp/save spot set in the square in the middle of town. It looks fucking terrible, to be honest, all bright green and pulsing out of the sky day and night. I can’t even begin to imagine how much energy it takes to maintain it. Still, it’s good for tourism and cuts down on the amount of horses in town, which keeps the streets noticeably clear of giant piles of horse turds, so at least there’s that.
Some of them seem pretty nice. I’ve met a few Mike A.’s who were decent folks and while I have met a number of dickbag111’s and sexywifequeen452’s who rubbed me the wrong way, I’ve generally done a good bit of trade here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I like wearing a long, forest green cloak with a hood. It suits me. I don’t like it when people see my eyes. That’s how they always figure out that I’m not actually like the others, with their scripted conversation trees and penchant for constantly referring to Main Characters by their names over and over again in a way that any normal person would obviously not do. NPC’s don’t have violet eyes, you know. It’s just not...done.
Still, I find myself doing a good turn of business, and as long as their gold’s good (there’s really no such thing as fake gold here, which is nice), I don’t mind. I do business out of an abandoned store that was forgotten and has to be entered through an invisible gap in the wall. It’s janky, but it’s mine, and the difficulty finding it means that I don’t get any Level 1 morons endlessly browsing through my wares with a chip on their shoulders and nothing in their pockets but hot air.
Apparently, there used to only be one Original Main Character in this world. But when he (or she, but most people always assume it’s a dude- typical) disappeared mysteriously halfway through the Chosen One’s Quest to Rid the World of Darkness, suddenly it became possible for anyone and their little sister to join the world and attempt to continue where the Original Main Character let off. Now, I don’t know about you, but the way these things tend to go, it’s almost like the Quest is an excuse for the Gods of this world to basically make things as fucking dark and depressing as possible. Most people are stuck halfway through the original objective before they start becoming distracted by mini-games and side-quests. If I had a piece of gold for every time I’ve seen a would-be Main Character stumble out of the mini-casino mini-game to the save point after ten hours of rolling the slots, I’d be rich.
Well, ok, I’m already rich, but you know what I mean.
When they come to my shop, they’re looking for something a little...different. I’m happy to give them what they want...for a price. Sure, I don’t have to pay rent, but a player’s got to eat, you know?
Most Main Characters eventually get disillusioned with the Quest. I can’t blame ‘em. Finding out that every step is getting you closer and closer to The End is fucking depressing, if you ask me. Sometimes I wish I could be like Colonel Bobbert in the pub with his three dialogue responses, thinking only of his ale, pretty women, and joking about what’s in your pocket, but I’m not.
So I offer them side quests. Ones that you can’t find anywhere else. They keep changing, too. It makes them feel special, like they’re the real Chosen One.
They don’t know what’s in the cellar, and I’m not about to tell them.
They can have it, you know? The glory, the fame. I just want some money to drink and gamble until I can’t see that stupid beacon turning the sky a sickly green, even in the middle of the fucking day.
Sometimes I’ll travel. I don’t need to use the warp point. Those came...after things changed. But I can’t stay too long in any one place, because that gets me recognized by some of the less dimwitted NPCs and I can’t stand them and their lectures and accusations of laziness. So I move on, and I hide in my secret shop and I hoard and spend my gold. I’m no hero, but then again, who says I have to be?
I never asked to be what I am. But I can sure as hell choose what I want to be. | Today was going so well too.
It was your typical wednesday and Gordon was on his way home from skipping school. Not that he was a bad student but the new transfer student had asked him to meet after school and gauging from his heavy accent and aloof personality that what he had to say wasn't anything he'd like to here.
As Gordon was taking in the perfect weather on his way home he couldn't help but notice the three thugs across the street picking on a fellow classmate.
Typical.
Said classmate had never missed a day of school in his life and here he was being bullied by three guys that Gordon felt could easily take if he tried. The whole situation felt lazy and quickly thrown together.
Gordon pulled out his phone and called the police and told them their was a robbery on the street he was on than quickly jumped a fence and took a new route home.
After a rather peaceful walk Gordon arrived home.
and there he was.
Gordon wasn't greeted by his foster parents but by an older gentleman with a long beard and dressed in a garb from a culture that Gordon couldn't put his finger on.
'Hello my lord." said the man who know doubt was here to teach me some mystical magic or kung fu.
So it seems Im the son of some old king from another dimension where magic is real I was spirited away as a kid to protect me. Since its my destiny to save said world from a great evil.
I was about to tell the old man to fuck himself when it hit me. What would be the first thing a protagonist would do in a situation like this?
He would deny his fate and say all he wanted was a normal life before ultimately taking responsibility and gave in to whatever stupid destiny he had.
Shit.
Gordon was stuck in a conundrum. Its not that he wanted a normal life so much that he didn't want to live in such a stupid cliche.
Suddenly an idea popped in his head it was a long shot but it was his only choice.
Gordon breathed in deeply and readied his reply.
"Yeah that sounds great." Gordon said hoping the enthusiasm in his voice would hide his disdain.
"You must understand the fate of... wait what." the old man said in mild disbelieve.
"Are you kidding I get to be king and magic powers thats so freakin cool."
"I... um." The old man looked like he was struggling to think of something to say.
"I bet I meat a super hot warrior girl who's weghts 80lbs but can overpower giants, oh man I can't wait."
Their was a long silence every second felt like a millennium and finally the old man spoke.
"I think theres been a mistake."
"Oh." Gordon desperately tried to hide his smile as he spoke.
"Yeah... I think... I think Ill just let myself out."
"Ok have a nice day." said Gordon as he opened the door.
"Yeah... you to." and with that the old man left.
As soon as Gordon shut the door he collapsed against it in relief another disaster averted. He knew this wasn't going to be the last prophecy he was apart of but he will take that challenge when it comes. But today he was free from mediocrity.
|
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | **I Am NPC**
I feel blessed to live in a pretty nondescript town. There’s a weapons shop, armor shop, tavern, side-quest alley and mini-game market down by the river. We’re not too close to the bandits in the East or the royal capital in the North. All in all, the winters are pretty mild, the summers aren’t too hot and the day/night cycle is a good ten minutes, which takes some adjusting, but at least we’re not stuck in permanent day or permanent night unless a Main Character comes along and decides to change it. I hate the god-awful warp/save spot set in the square in the middle of town. It looks fucking terrible, to be honest, all bright green and pulsing out of the sky day and night. I can’t even begin to imagine how much energy it takes to maintain it. Still, it’s good for tourism and cuts down on the amount of horses in town, which keeps the streets noticeably clear of giant piles of horse turds, so at least there’s that.
Some of them seem pretty nice. I’ve met a few Mike A.’s who were decent folks and while I have met a number of dickbag111’s and sexywifequeen452’s who rubbed me the wrong way, I’ve generally done a good bit of trade here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I like wearing a long, forest green cloak with a hood. It suits me. I don’t like it when people see my eyes. That’s how they always figure out that I’m not actually like the others, with their scripted conversation trees and penchant for constantly referring to Main Characters by their names over and over again in a way that any normal person would obviously not do. NPC’s don’t have violet eyes, you know. It’s just not...done.
Still, I find myself doing a good turn of business, and as long as their gold’s good (there’s really no such thing as fake gold here, which is nice), I don’t mind. I do business out of an abandoned store that was forgotten and has to be entered through an invisible gap in the wall. It’s janky, but it’s mine, and the difficulty finding it means that I don’t get any Level 1 morons endlessly browsing through my wares with a chip on their shoulders and nothing in their pockets but hot air.
Apparently, there used to only be one Original Main Character in this world. But when he (or she, but most people always assume it’s a dude- typical) disappeared mysteriously halfway through the Chosen One’s Quest to Rid the World of Darkness, suddenly it became possible for anyone and their little sister to join the world and attempt to continue where the Original Main Character let off. Now, I don’t know about you, but the way these things tend to go, it’s almost like the Quest is an excuse for the Gods of this world to basically make things as fucking dark and depressing as possible. Most people are stuck halfway through the original objective before they start becoming distracted by mini-games and side-quests. If I had a piece of gold for every time I’ve seen a would-be Main Character stumble out of the mini-casino mini-game to the save point after ten hours of rolling the slots, I’d be rich.
Well, ok, I’m already rich, but you know what I mean.
When they come to my shop, they’re looking for something a little...different. I’m happy to give them what they want...for a price. Sure, I don’t have to pay rent, but a player’s got to eat, you know?
Most Main Characters eventually get disillusioned with the Quest. I can’t blame ‘em. Finding out that every step is getting you closer and closer to The End is fucking depressing, if you ask me. Sometimes I wish I could be like Colonel Bobbert in the pub with his three dialogue responses, thinking only of his ale, pretty women, and joking about what’s in your pocket, but I’m not.
So I offer them side quests. Ones that you can’t find anywhere else. They keep changing, too. It makes them feel special, like they’re the real Chosen One.
They don’t know what’s in the cellar, and I’m not about to tell them.
They can have it, you know? The glory, the fame. I just want some money to drink and gamble until I can’t see that stupid beacon turning the sky a sickly green, even in the middle of the fucking day.
Sometimes I’ll travel. I don’t need to use the warp point. Those came...after things changed. But I can’t stay too long in any one place, because that gets me recognized by some of the less dimwitted NPCs and I can’t stand them and their lectures and accusations of laziness. So I move on, and I hide in my secret shop and I hoard and spend my gold. I’m no hero, but then again, who says I have to be?
I never asked to be what I am. But I can sure as hell choose what I want to be. | “Johnny is so much more interesting than Mary. You're right, my name is Mary. One thing that was learned growing up is that you never say the word I. Fuck, just said it. Anywho. The center of attention is one thing Mary avoids. She hates it, makes her feel self conscious. Yes, she understands its supposed to be her story, and yes she can feel you. Anywho, she lives in a black and white world but has pink hair. The hair is not that big of a deal. Can you really base your main character on the fact that she can jump on light poles and has different hair. Thats a bad start to story isn't it. Anywho, she can feel you, could of just said blah blah blah and you would have stopped reading. She would consider that rude. She is a loner and prone to anxiety but not rude, ya know.”
Amanda and Johnny waited patiently for her outside the bathroom. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He hated when Mary took this long. “I bet she is talking to herself in the stall again. She thinks I dont notice. Poor girl has so much anxiety. She thinks the world is watching her.” Amanda nodded her head. “She should see a psychologist.”
Mary heard them outside. “Oh you're back again, they were much more interesting than me huh. Let me tell you about the two of them. Johnny is a smart dude who could solve any problem. Yes any problem. Don't look at me like that. It's true, this is a character introduction. So just sit there and listen. He is so much more interesting than a girl who is in a stall, huh. Its alot of pressure, thousand want to claw their way into your life, sucks huh. Imagine, if you sat on a toilet and a bunch of people stuck around to see if anything interesting happened. Sick huh, yet you are still…... here …….reading. Anywho, Amanda is pretty cool too, much more interesting than me. Did you know she is from another world, yup, totally an alien. Why don't you check out what they are up to huh?”
Amanda finally had enough “lets just go, she is not coming out again. We are going to have to call the teacher.” Johnny frowned in disapproval. “She will never get over her anxiety that way, she needs to suck it up and go to class” Amanda put her hand over his mouth. “Shhhhh, we have to be supportive remember.”
Mary flushed the toilet. “A story about my own anxiety, What a dumb story huh. Please, like she didnt seen this coming a mile away. Look, Mary does not need help. She is happy in her own world. No story here today.” She yawned but and refused to get off of the toilet.
Johnny knocked on the door. “Come out Mary, you can't hide in the bathroom forever.”
Mary said “Bullshit, she is not coming out.” Amanda frowned. “You called it, she is talking in third person again”.
Mary was desperate. This is the third time the writing switched to her.. She wanted this to be downvoted in reddit. To make the story invisible to most readers. “Omg, you people are still reading about Mary on the damn toilet. Fine, I know where this is going. Johnny already freaking said OUT LOUD “she needs to get over the anxiety.” That’s it isn't it, the problem I gotta overcome. She knows you people want whats best for her. You want to see her overcome anxiety. Tell ya what. Lets just skip all that and call it a day. You know what she really wants, she wants to be left alone. That makes her happy. You have that ability, just hit that down vote button and this all goes away. Anxiety solved. ” She waited silently hoping this would be downvoted. “Come on people work with me. Make me invisible again.”
|
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | “Oh my God,” Frankie said, “they’re in the building.”
“Who is?” I asked. The office Christmas party had just started. I enjoyed mingling with people from other departments, people I saw all the time but never really got a chance to know. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, except Frankie, who was covered in sweat all of the sudden, barging into the conference room where me and Shelly were talking.
“Armed gunmen. They’re trying to hack the computer system. They’re trying to transfer all of the company’s funds to an off shore bank account! They’ve got a German guy, the black computer wizard, and about five or six personality-less goons. Plus they’ve got the balding guy that walks with a cane, who speaks like he’s from the 1800’s.”
“Jesus,” I said. “Let’s all find a place to hide and contact the authorities.”
“I know you have a mysterious background in the military. Maybe you could do something.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous. They have machine guns. That’s how people get killed.”
“Please don’t do it,” Shelly and Frankie begged me. “Please don’t go out there to fight the terrorists. It’s do dangerous! You’re a loose cannon!”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I’m not.
“Oh God, there’s nothing we can say to stop you, is there? You’re a wild spirit. You’re totally fearless. Goddamn you, you beautiful bastard, you’re a hero. Crazy, but a hero,” Frankie said. “You’ll have to fall back on the skills you picked up in the army, skills you haven’t used in years. And they’ve personally taken the girl you have a crush on hostage! It’s diabolical!”
“God fucking damnit,” I said, running towards the nearest stairwell as the terrorist burst into the party and shot their guns at the ceiling. The aging white man with the cane started going off on a diatribe to all the horrified Christmas partiers.
I had joined the army as an IT guy, but somehow I always ended up saving a downed helicopter, defeating the enemy general in hand to hand combat, rescuing kittens from burning buildings. I just wanted to work on computers. After that, I came home a mysterious scientist informed me that I was starting to show signs of evolution, the next stage in human development, super powers, if you will. I ignored him and found the most boring, mundane job possible. I liked living a boring life. I was thoroughly enjoying the most boring office Christmas party in the world. God fucking damnit.
A terrorist stood in the stairwell. We just looked at each other. He walked very slowly towards me, trying to get me to fist fight him despite the machine gun. He tried to punch me in a slow, overly dramatic way. I just stood there, my hands in the air. "I surrender."
“Come on, guy,” he muttered. “At least take my walkie-talkie. I mean punch me or something. You need to take the gun and walkie talkie so you can have dramatic conversations with Dr. Nefarious.”
I sighed, gave him a light punch. He let out a Wilhelm scream and tossed himself down the stairs. I picked up the walkie-talkie and the gun.
“Ah, Mr. Taylor,” Dr. Diabolical said on the other end of the radio. “You have come to interfere with our plans. We are the league of evil, and you cannot hope to destroy us. We will unleash financial chaos into the world, a world which has become corrupt . We are doing society a service. We will rebuild the world, a beautiful, new world of evil, and you can’t possibly hope to stop us.”
I sighed again, and rubbed my temples.
| “Johnny is so much more interesting than Mary. You're right, my name is Mary. One thing that was learned growing up is that you never say the word I. Fuck, just said it. Anywho. The center of attention is one thing Mary avoids. She hates it, makes her feel self conscious. Yes, she understands its supposed to be her story, and yes she can feel you. Anywho, she lives in a black and white world but has pink hair. The hair is not that big of a deal. Can you really base your main character on the fact that she can jump on light poles and has different hair. Thats a bad start to story isn't it. Anywho, she can feel you, could of just said blah blah blah and you would have stopped reading. She would consider that rude. She is a loner and prone to anxiety but not rude, ya know.”
Amanda and Johnny waited patiently for her outside the bathroom. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. He hated when Mary took this long. “I bet she is talking to herself in the stall again. She thinks I dont notice. Poor girl has so much anxiety. She thinks the world is watching her.” Amanda nodded her head. “She should see a psychologist.”
Mary heard them outside. “Oh you're back again, they were much more interesting than me huh. Let me tell you about the two of them. Johnny is a smart dude who could solve any problem. Yes any problem. Don't look at me like that. It's true, this is a character introduction. So just sit there and listen. He is so much more interesting than a girl who is in a stall, huh. Its alot of pressure, thousand want to claw their way into your life, sucks huh. Imagine, if you sat on a toilet and a bunch of people stuck around to see if anything interesting happened. Sick huh, yet you are still…... here …….reading. Anywho, Amanda is pretty cool too, much more interesting than me. Did you know she is from another world, yup, totally an alien. Why don't you check out what they are up to huh?”
Amanda finally had enough “lets just go, she is not coming out again. We are going to have to call the teacher.” Johnny frowned in disapproval. “She will never get over her anxiety that way, she needs to suck it up and go to class” Amanda put her hand over his mouth. “Shhhhh, we have to be supportive remember.”
Mary flushed the toilet. “A story about my own anxiety, What a dumb story huh. Please, like she didnt seen this coming a mile away. Look, Mary does not need help. She is happy in her own world. No story here today.” She yawned but and refused to get off of the toilet.
Johnny knocked on the door. “Come out Mary, you can't hide in the bathroom forever.”
Mary said “Bullshit, she is not coming out.” Amanda frowned. “You called it, she is talking in third person again”.
Mary was desperate. This is the third time the writing switched to her.. She wanted this to be downvoted in reddit. To make the story invisible to most readers. “Omg, you people are still reading about Mary on the damn toilet. Fine, I know where this is going. Johnny already freaking said OUT LOUD “she needs to get over the anxiety.” That’s it isn't it, the problem I gotta overcome. She knows you people want whats best for her. You want to see her overcome anxiety. Tell ya what. Lets just skip all that and call it a day. You know what she really wants, she wants to be left alone. That makes her happy. You have that ability, just hit that down vote button and this all goes away. Anxiety solved. ” She waited silently hoping this would be downvoted. “Come on people work with me. Make me invisible again.”
|
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | **I Am NPC**
I feel blessed to live in a pretty nondescript town. There’s a weapons shop, armor shop, tavern, side-quest alley and mini-game market down by the river. We’re not too close to the bandits in the East or the royal capital in the North. All in all, the winters are pretty mild, the summers aren’t too hot and the day/night cycle is a good ten minutes, which takes some adjusting, but at least we’re not stuck in permanent day or permanent night unless a Main Character comes along and decides to change it. I hate the god-awful warp/save spot set in the square in the middle of town. It looks fucking terrible, to be honest, all bright green and pulsing out of the sky day and night. I can’t even begin to imagine how much energy it takes to maintain it. Still, it’s good for tourism and cuts down on the amount of horses in town, which keeps the streets noticeably clear of giant piles of horse turds, so at least there’s that.
Some of them seem pretty nice. I’ve met a few Mike A.’s who were decent folks and while I have met a number of dickbag111’s and sexywifequeen452’s who rubbed me the wrong way, I’ve generally done a good bit of trade here and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I like wearing a long, forest green cloak with a hood. It suits me. I don’t like it when people see my eyes. That’s how they always figure out that I’m not actually like the others, with their scripted conversation trees and penchant for constantly referring to Main Characters by their names over and over again in a way that any normal person would obviously not do. NPC’s don’t have violet eyes, you know. It’s just not...done.
Still, I find myself doing a good turn of business, and as long as their gold’s good (there’s really no such thing as fake gold here, which is nice), I don’t mind. I do business out of an abandoned store that was forgotten and has to be entered through an invisible gap in the wall. It’s janky, but it’s mine, and the difficulty finding it means that I don’t get any Level 1 morons endlessly browsing through my wares with a chip on their shoulders and nothing in their pockets but hot air.
Apparently, there used to only be one Original Main Character in this world. But when he (or she, but most people always assume it’s a dude- typical) disappeared mysteriously halfway through the Chosen One’s Quest to Rid the World of Darkness, suddenly it became possible for anyone and their little sister to join the world and attempt to continue where the Original Main Character let off. Now, I don’t know about you, but the way these things tend to go, it’s almost like the Quest is an excuse for the Gods of this world to basically make things as fucking dark and depressing as possible. Most people are stuck halfway through the original objective before they start becoming distracted by mini-games and side-quests. If I had a piece of gold for every time I’ve seen a would-be Main Character stumble out of the mini-casino mini-game to the save point after ten hours of rolling the slots, I’d be rich.
Well, ok, I’m already rich, but you know what I mean.
When they come to my shop, they’re looking for something a little...different. I’m happy to give them what they want...for a price. Sure, I don’t have to pay rent, but a player’s got to eat, you know?
Most Main Characters eventually get disillusioned with the Quest. I can’t blame ‘em. Finding out that every step is getting you closer and closer to The End is fucking depressing, if you ask me. Sometimes I wish I could be like Colonel Bobbert in the pub with his three dialogue responses, thinking only of his ale, pretty women, and joking about what’s in your pocket, but I’m not.
So I offer them side quests. Ones that you can’t find anywhere else. They keep changing, too. It makes them feel special, like they’re the real Chosen One.
They don’t know what’s in the cellar, and I’m not about to tell them.
They can have it, you know? The glory, the fame. I just want some money to drink and gamble until I can’t see that stupid beacon turning the sky a sickly green, even in the middle of the fucking day.
Sometimes I’ll travel. I don’t need to use the warp point. Those came...after things changed. But I can’t stay too long in any one place, because that gets me recognized by some of the less dimwitted NPCs and I can’t stand them and their lectures and accusations of laziness. So I move on, and I hide in my secret shop and I hoard and spend my gold. I’m no hero, but then again, who says I have to be?
I never asked to be what I am. But I can sure as hell choose what I want to be. | First prompt. Dunno why I wrote this at 12AM. Oh well. Guess the shows and win points! (not really)
I don't even know what I've written. I'm not even sorry.
_____
I swear, it's like the damn universe wants me to become a main character! I don't want to though, I'd much rather take the back seat when it comes to things like this. Even so, the universe spams me with so much weird stuff, it's hard to not give up and just go with the universe's plans.
I decided to limit my conversations with the guy sitting next to me. He was a genius but kept on playing games in class so the teacher kept on stealing his handhelds but he always had more on hand. He suddenly started wearing a leather collar. Kinky. Not into that though, but it seems like our teacher is. She always teaches the class while wearing a spiked collar. Maybe the two were close to each other somehow...
The next day was pretty weird too. A girl suddenly transferred in from another school, in the middle of the semester. Pretty weird, right? It wasn't nearly as weird as her class introduction. She said that she hated normal people and would rather prefer to be in the company of aliens, espers, and time travellers. This girl is nuts. She was pretty cute too with a yellow bow in her long brown hair. The teacher told me to move to the empty seat in our classroom, at the back near the window, so the girl could take the chair I was sitting in. I told him that she could take that seat instead.
During lunch that day, some dude from the class next door burst in, asking if people wanted to join his club. Dude was wearing swimming goggles and a weird red hat, so no thanks.
Some rumours popped up regarding the resident rich girl and her butler. I tried to talk to the heiress, but decided against to. Apparently her butler was seriously into crossdressing. He was really convincing too. I almost believed he was a girl when I saw him wear a cheongsam. Dude had legs! I avoided the two before I started thinking too much about the butler.
Next week got a bit weirder than usual.
I was walking home, following the river, when suddenly an old man floated by. I grabbed my phone and started to call emergency services, when I saw that his chest opened up, and inside of him was a baby with green hair. I closed my phone, gave him a small push so he would continue floating, and walked away again.
A friend of mine stopped coming to school. Some students say he went missing a few days ago and no one has seen him ever since. They asked his parents and the the last they saw of him was when he left his house to get his laptop repaired. I wonder where he went? Maybe he got sucked into a portal into another dimension. That could never happen though.
I was at school during the weekend, and there were people fighting in the baseball field. There were sparks and explosions everywhere. One guy was wearing blue and the other red. Blue was holding a red spear and Red was holding two large knives. They looked really awesome, but scary at the same time. So I ran in the opposite direction immediately. On Monday huge gaping holes were scattered across the entire field.
The universe was bombing me with more dangerous situations now. That last one might have gotten me killed if I didn't run away at first.
I should probably just stay home and sign up for the beta of that new virtual reality RPG that's been announced. The publisher says it's so awesome you'll never want to leave until you've beat the game.
Yup, that's what I'll do.
|
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | “Oh my God,” Frankie said, “they’re in the building.”
“Who is?” I asked. The office Christmas party had just started. I enjoyed mingling with people from other departments, people I saw all the time but never really got a chance to know. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, except Frankie, who was covered in sweat all of the sudden, barging into the conference room where me and Shelly were talking.
“Armed gunmen. They’re trying to hack the computer system. They’re trying to transfer all of the company’s funds to an off shore bank account! They’ve got a German guy, the black computer wizard, and about five or six personality-less goons. Plus they’ve got the balding guy that walks with a cane, who speaks like he’s from the 1800’s.”
“Jesus,” I said. “Let’s all find a place to hide and contact the authorities.”
“I know you have a mysterious background in the military. Maybe you could do something.”
“Well, that’s just ridiculous. They have machine guns. That’s how people get killed.”
“Please don’t do it,” Shelly and Frankie begged me. “Please don’t go out there to fight the terrorists. It’s do dangerous! You’re a loose cannon!”
“Didn’t you hear what I just said?” I’m not.
“Oh God, there’s nothing we can say to stop you, is there? You’re a wild spirit. You’re totally fearless. Goddamn you, you beautiful bastard, you’re a hero. Crazy, but a hero,” Frankie said. “You’ll have to fall back on the skills you picked up in the army, skills you haven’t used in years. And they’ve personally taken the girl you have a crush on hostage! It’s diabolical!”
“God fucking damnit,” I said, running towards the nearest stairwell as the terrorist burst into the party and shot their guns at the ceiling. The aging white man with the cane started going off on a diatribe to all the horrified Christmas partiers.
I had joined the army as an IT guy, but somehow I always ended up saving a downed helicopter, defeating the enemy general in hand to hand combat, rescuing kittens from burning buildings. I just wanted to work on computers. After that, I came home a mysterious scientist informed me that I was starting to show signs of evolution, the next stage in human development, super powers, if you will. I ignored him and found the most boring, mundane job possible. I liked living a boring life. I was thoroughly enjoying the most boring office Christmas party in the world. God fucking damnit.
A terrorist stood in the stairwell. We just looked at each other. He walked very slowly towards me, trying to get me to fist fight him despite the machine gun. He tried to punch me in a slow, overly dramatic way. I just stood there, my hands in the air. "I surrender."
“Come on, guy,” he muttered. “At least take my walkie-talkie. I mean punch me or something. You need to take the gun and walkie talkie so you can have dramatic conversations with Dr. Nefarious.”
I sighed, gave him a light punch. He let out a Wilhelm scream and tossed himself down the stairs. I picked up the walkie-talkie and the gun.
“Ah, Mr. Taylor,” Dr. Diabolical said on the other end of the radio. “You have come to interfere with our plans. We are the league of evil, and you cannot hope to destroy us. We will unleash financial chaos into the world, a world which has become corrupt . We are doing society a service. We will rebuild the world, a beautiful, new world of evil, and you can’t possibly hope to stop us.”
I sighed again, and rubbed my temples.
| First prompt. Dunno why I wrote this at 12AM. Oh well. Guess the shows and win points! (not really)
I don't even know what I've written. I'm not even sorry.
_____
I swear, it's like the damn universe wants me to become a main character! I don't want to though, I'd much rather take the back seat when it comes to things like this. Even so, the universe spams me with so much weird stuff, it's hard to not give up and just go with the universe's plans.
I decided to limit my conversations with the guy sitting next to me. He was a genius but kept on playing games in class so the teacher kept on stealing his handhelds but he always had more on hand. He suddenly started wearing a leather collar. Kinky. Not into that though, but it seems like our teacher is. She always teaches the class while wearing a spiked collar. Maybe the two were close to each other somehow...
The next day was pretty weird too. A girl suddenly transferred in from another school, in the middle of the semester. Pretty weird, right? It wasn't nearly as weird as her class introduction. She said that she hated normal people and would rather prefer to be in the company of aliens, espers, and time travellers. This girl is nuts. She was pretty cute too with a yellow bow in her long brown hair. The teacher told me to move to the empty seat in our classroom, at the back near the window, so the girl could take the chair I was sitting in. I told him that she could take that seat instead.
During lunch that day, some dude from the class next door burst in, asking if people wanted to join his club. Dude was wearing swimming goggles and a weird red hat, so no thanks.
Some rumours popped up regarding the resident rich girl and her butler. I tried to talk to the heiress, but decided against to. Apparently her butler was seriously into crossdressing. He was really convincing too. I almost believed he was a girl when I saw him wear a cheongsam. Dude had legs! I avoided the two before I started thinking too much about the butler.
Next week got a bit weirder than usual.
I was walking home, following the river, when suddenly an old man floated by. I grabbed my phone and started to call emergency services, when I saw that his chest opened up, and inside of him was a baby with green hair. I closed my phone, gave him a small push so he would continue floating, and walked away again.
A friend of mine stopped coming to school. Some students say he went missing a few days ago and no one has seen him ever since. They asked his parents and the the last they saw of him was when he left his house to get his laptop repaired. I wonder where he went? Maybe he got sucked into a portal into another dimension. That could never happen though.
I was at school during the weekend, and there were people fighting in the baseball field. There were sparks and explosions everywhere. One guy was wearing blue and the other red. Blue was holding a red spear and Red was holding two large knives. They looked really awesome, but scary at the same time. So I ran in the opposite direction immediately. On Monday huge gaping holes were scattered across the entire field.
The universe was bombing me with more dangerous situations now. That last one might have gotten me killed if I didn't run away at first.
I should probably just stay home and sign up for the beta of that new virtual reality RPG that's been announced. The publisher says it's so awesome you'll never want to leave until you've beat the game.
Yup, that's what I'll do.
|
Inspiration from /r/manga top post.
http://imgur.com/gallery/J5sbp | [WP] In the fear of becoming a Main Character, the main character lives his whole life avoiding cliche story lines and interactions | Scott shuffled down the hall; the final bell had rung, and it was time to get out of dodge.
And, each and every day, what a time *that* was...
"Hey, Scotty!" Ronald Verrater slapped Scott on the shoulder. "We on for fencing practice, tomorrow?"
Scott shook his head, pushing forward and leaving Ronald behind.
Poor Ronald. He was a nice enough guy- ambitious, but friendly. He was the kind of guy that might cheat a little in a tournament, but still feel bad about it later. 'Conflicted', that was the word.
That was one of about fifty reasons Scott had to quit the fencing club. He didn't need some old friendly rival like Ronald to be his friend, then later get all angsty and anti-villainous, and then have to be taken down in some gut-wrenching, action-packed, emotionally climactic duel on a rooftop, somewhere.
Scott didn't need that kind of drama.
Hell, it wasn't like the universe was being very subtle this time, either. 'Verrater' even meant 'traitor' in German. This was the same reason Scott had to legally change his last name a few weeks ago.
'Scott Zweihändige' was just a little too... 'protagonist-ey'. He picked 'Bore' as a name, instead.
No one could be a main character with a name like *that*.
It also helped that he gave up playing with swords. Heroes prefer swords...
"Ooh, Scott!" A thin, muscular girl in a tank top tapped his shoulder as he passed her, "my dad's going to these really cool ruins next week, and he says I can invite a friend! I thought, well, since these ruins are dedicated to the Ares star constellation, and *you're* an Ares, an' all, it'd be kinda neat to-"
"No thanks," Scott growled. "Not interested in absorbing the freaky ancient powers-slash-memories-slash-demons-slash-chili recipes of whatever ass-end civilization have you. But thanks all the same..."
He trudge warily on, passing by another girl, this one a little shirking violet, bangs covering her eyes, holding her books up protectively against her chest. She walked beside him, her skittish eyes wide:
"S-Scott? I... just want you to know... that if anything happens to me... like, anything at all, you should try to *follow your heart*..."
She tried handing him a weird-looking necklace: a bunch of squiggly lines surrounding a heart-symbol. Scott shook his head:
"Nope. But you be sure to enjoy being kidnapped, or possessed, or whatever..."
Tons of others swarmed him, all of them offering things like a trip to their cabin in the woods (cute), or asking his opinion on these weird photographs that apparently show him mining for coal in ancient Egypt (nice touch), or loudly bemoaning the fact that they need help with some super-easy-sounding problem that *no one else* in the whole world will help them with (nice try).
Scott managed to make it to the library, sighing. He shuffled down the stacks until he found Janette. She was leaning over a table, absently studying a book, and she looked up at him and gave him a wan smile:
"Rough day?" She asked.
"You got no idea," he grumbled. "Everyone and their mother's trying to get me in on 'the adventure'. Universe just won't take a hint, will it?" He cocked his head at the book: "find anything else helpful in there?"
Janette shook her head: "No, it looks like most of the obvious plots the world can throw at you have been played out, so I think you're pretty much in the clear!"
Scott smiled warmly, and Janette reciprocated.
"Listen, Jan," he said: "I can't thank you enough, for helping me these past few weeks..."
"No problem!" She said. "If there's anything I hate, it's dumb cliches and hackneyed situations!"
The library doors opened, and men in dark suits began moving down the stacks. When they caught sight of Janette they quickened their pace:
"That one!" One of the men cried, "it's the *Tropebreaker*!"
"And the other must be her apprentice!"
"The one who changed his last name to 'Bore'. The one who helps 'bore' holes in the Tropes!"
"The *Tropeborer*! We have you, now!"
Scott held up his hands, sighing, and he shook his head:
"Nah, guys: you all got me confused with someone-"
Janette produced a wand from her backpack and created a swirling portal of light in the air.
"...else..." Scott's voice trailed off.
"Come on, Scott! It's the Meta Police! They've *found* us!" Janette disappeared into the vortex, leaving Scott to alternate his stunned gaze between the approaching men, and his mysterious escape route. He rolled his eyes, sighing:
"Fuck," he grumbled.
| First prompt. Dunno why I wrote this at 12AM. Oh well. Guess the shows and win points! (not really)
I don't even know what I've written. I'm not even sorry.
_____
I swear, it's like the damn universe wants me to become a main character! I don't want to though, I'd much rather take the back seat when it comes to things like this. Even so, the universe spams me with so much weird stuff, it's hard to not give up and just go with the universe's plans.
I decided to limit my conversations with the guy sitting next to me. He was a genius but kept on playing games in class so the teacher kept on stealing his handhelds but he always had more on hand. He suddenly started wearing a leather collar. Kinky. Not into that though, but it seems like our teacher is. She always teaches the class while wearing a spiked collar. Maybe the two were close to each other somehow...
The next day was pretty weird too. A girl suddenly transferred in from another school, in the middle of the semester. Pretty weird, right? It wasn't nearly as weird as her class introduction. She said that she hated normal people and would rather prefer to be in the company of aliens, espers, and time travellers. This girl is nuts. She was pretty cute too with a yellow bow in her long brown hair. The teacher told me to move to the empty seat in our classroom, at the back near the window, so the girl could take the chair I was sitting in. I told him that she could take that seat instead.
During lunch that day, some dude from the class next door burst in, asking if people wanted to join his club. Dude was wearing swimming goggles and a weird red hat, so no thanks.
Some rumours popped up regarding the resident rich girl and her butler. I tried to talk to the heiress, but decided against to. Apparently her butler was seriously into crossdressing. He was really convincing too. I almost believed he was a girl when I saw him wear a cheongsam. Dude had legs! I avoided the two before I started thinking too much about the butler.
Next week got a bit weirder than usual.
I was walking home, following the river, when suddenly an old man floated by. I grabbed my phone and started to call emergency services, when I saw that his chest opened up, and inside of him was a baby with green hair. I closed my phone, gave him a small push so he would continue floating, and walked away again.
A friend of mine stopped coming to school. Some students say he went missing a few days ago and no one has seen him ever since. They asked his parents and the the last they saw of him was when he left his house to get his laptop repaired. I wonder where he went? Maybe he got sucked into a portal into another dimension. That could never happen though.
I was at school during the weekend, and there were people fighting in the baseball field. There were sparks and explosions everywhere. One guy was wearing blue and the other red. Blue was holding a red spear and Red was holding two large knives. They looked really awesome, but scary at the same time. So I ran in the opposite direction immediately. On Monday huge gaping holes were scattered across the entire field.
The universe was bombing me with more dangerous situations now. That last one might have gotten me killed if I didn't run away at first.
I should probably just stay home and sign up for the beta of that new virtual reality RPG that's been announced. The publisher says it's so awesome you'll never want to leave until you've beat the game.
Yup, that's what I'll do.
|
[WP] Humans have stopped using sharp objects and bullets to kill. Describe what happens in a war. | Marcus kneaded the bal in his hand. "This is not just a game, this is war" he thought as he warmed his hands for the upcoming fight. Next to him were the finest warriors America had to offer.
This battle would decide the conflict between America and China. Next to Marcus sat Zachary. Zachary cleaned his glasses one more time as the count-down started on the big screen.
Ten... Nine... Eight... Seven... Six
William payed no attention to the count-down but instead was taking a last look at the notes Daerak had brought. Søren looked at the crowd with confidence.
Five... Four.. Three... Two... One...
Welcome to the League of Legends. | "It has been many, many years since we controlled reproduction". Susan said calmly to her daughter, she rarely spoke of these matters. "You and your sisters are so much alike, because ultimately, we are all copies of each other. Clones, they used to call us. Now since, we're all "clones" the word isn't used anymore". The earth rattled above as another suction trap sprung on top of the makeshift bunker.
Small Rebecca adjusted herself in the chair, while she gave an inquisitive look to her old mother. "The War is just a vestige of the government trying to control the conditions under which population control was exerted. First, it was meaningless traits like eye and hair color. But then, gender control meant more males were being born. Us, we didn't like it; to say the least. While on one side of the earth mostly males were being born, we prepared an army of women". Rebecca had heard the word male, but never applied to the human species. For a moment she drifted trying to picture a human male. Human male? Preposterous. Her mother continued, "Everyday things got more feminized in the West. Language changed, politics changed, public health standards changed; female population was so predominant, males started becoming something of a rarity".
"How was it before the War, mother?". In spite of her mere 12 years, Rebecca was smart for one so young. "There has always been war. Males fighting males", Susan dismissed. "And as males fight between each other, they do so with manly weapons. Guns, knifes, cannons, torpedoes, bombs; like if it were all a penis size competition". Rebecca only saw her mother talk so fiercely when remembering the old days. "And of course as we claimed power, the war was feminized too. Suction traps, acid soakers, binders and hormone warfare became the weapons of the West". "But Mother, you haven't answered my question. Why are you flying behind enemy lines?". "Ah!", Mother exclaimed. "East still has their nuclear bomb. The archetypal male domination symbol. We have seen the power that a nuclear weapon can unleash. But we have created our own. Heavily based on quantum physics as well. We have a new weapon. Think of it as an explosion of a million black holes. Each black hole sucking up on the surrounding matter until it stabilizes. Each miniature black hole engulfing everything there is on its path".
Susan got up from her chair and walked to the hangar. "Today, I leave my baby, because today, we win the war". |
|
[WP] Humans have stopped using sharp objects and bullets to kill. Describe what happens in a war. | Famous rappers from across the globe engage in hip-hop battles around the world. Prepared songs and covers are allowed, though extra points are awarded for freestyles.
Ceza teams up with Tech N9ne, Busta, Twista, Yelawolf, Jaz-O, All three Bones and the rest of the Midwest/Worldwide Choppers to form the lethal yet surprisingly humorous Speed Strike Team, responsible for zipping across the glove to where the fighting is hardest.
Lil Wayne and Drake had their crew blasted of the face of the battlefield as soon as Biggie and Tupac - both crawling from a crevasse to hell - teamed up to fight the Nu-hop crews with fantastic mashups of 'Juicy' and 'Dear Mama'.
Dre and Eminem decided to ride it out and rapped for truth and peace and love and squashing beefs.
Ja Rule went back to prison because he was too annoying to have out in the open - along with 50, though his best material did slip through into mainstream hip-hop warfare.
Jay-Z operated as Vice President of Rap under Kanye West who only achieved supremacy through his aggressive pro-democracy campaign using the slogan 'No one man should have all that Power.' supplemented by excellently produced beats from most of his previous albums.
Detroit exploded in size, quadrupling in population density and surface area in only three months due to millions of projects funded by Vanilla Ice and Cena.
Coolio was excommunicated.
Snoop stopped smoking more or less...as in he kept smoking the same amount.
The rest of the hip-hop worlds drew lines and crossed them again and again, squashing and reforming beef faster than the patty-maker at McDonalds. Westwood superseded Apple in terms of net income in just four days and became the primary source of news in the new world. Breakdancers and Parkour...ers... were used on the front lines to create visual distractions while the famous lyricists on both sides prepared new rap. Korea seceded from the world, as did the majority of Asia, since having auto-tuned 25-syllable-per-second rappers was just unfair.
Ultimately, the world divided itself into two distinct groups, one huge project in which individual turf wars occurred but mostly a system based on mutual respect and love for freedom dominated. Equality was established and though women, homosexuals and white people were often called out with slurs and stereotypical archetypes, they were always apologised to and no real beefs were left searing. Everybody wore head-scarves and went around shirtless and tattooed, marijuana was legalised as were other drugs, but their use was discouraged and anybody who did develop an addiction was helped out of it.
The other group was mainly just people breaking shit and wearing gigantic jewelry and drinking and claiming that they were gonna murder people.
In the end only Kendrick Lamar remained, mainly because the only way to eliminate an opponent in a world without weapons was simply to 'Kill their Vibe', an impossible feat given the circumstances.
And that is a short future-history of non-lethal rap. | "It has been many, many years since we controlled reproduction". Susan said calmly to her daughter, she rarely spoke of these matters. "You and your sisters are so much alike, because ultimately, we are all copies of each other. Clones, they used to call us. Now since, we're all "clones" the word isn't used anymore". The earth rattled above as another suction trap sprung on top of the makeshift bunker.
Small Rebecca adjusted herself in the chair, while she gave an inquisitive look to her old mother. "The War is just a vestige of the government trying to control the conditions under which population control was exerted. First, it was meaningless traits like eye and hair color. But then, gender control meant more males were being born. Us, we didn't like it; to say the least. While on one side of the earth mostly males were being born, we prepared an army of women". Rebecca had heard the word male, but never applied to the human species. For a moment she drifted trying to picture a human male. Human male? Preposterous. Her mother continued, "Everyday things got more feminized in the West. Language changed, politics changed, public health standards changed; female population was so predominant, males started becoming something of a rarity".
"How was it before the War, mother?". In spite of her mere 12 years, Rebecca was smart for one so young. "There has always been war. Males fighting males", Susan dismissed. "And as males fight between each other, they do so with manly weapons. Guns, knifes, cannons, torpedoes, bombs; like if it were all a penis size competition". Rebecca only saw her mother talk so fiercely when remembering the old days. "And of course as we claimed power, the war was feminized too. Suction traps, acid soakers, binders and hormone warfare became the weapons of the West". "But Mother, you haven't answered my question. Why are you flying behind enemy lines?". "Ah!", Mother exclaimed. "East still has their nuclear bomb. The archetypal male domination symbol. We have seen the power that a nuclear weapon can unleash. But we have created our own. Heavily based on quantum physics as well. We have a new weapon. Think of it as an explosion of a million black holes. Each black hole sucking up on the surrounding matter until it stabilizes. Each miniature black hole engulfing everything there is on its path".
Susan got up from her chair and walked to the hangar. "Today, I leave my baby, because today, we win the war". |
|
[WP] Humans have stopped using sharp objects and bullets to kill. Describe what happens in a war. | Famous rappers from across the globe engage in hip-hop battles around the world. Prepared songs and covers are allowed, though extra points are awarded for freestyles.
Ceza teams up with Tech N9ne, Busta, Twista, Yelawolf, Jaz-O, All three Bones and the rest of the Midwest/Worldwide Choppers to form the lethal yet surprisingly humorous Speed Strike Team, responsible for zipping across the glove to where the fighting is hardest.
Lil Wayne and Drake had their crew blasted of the face of the battlefield as soon as Biggie and Tupac - both crawling from a crevasse to hell - teamed up to fight the Nu-hop crews with fantastic mashups of 'Juicy' and 'Dear Mama'.
Dre and Eminem decided to ride it out and rapped for truth and peace and love and squashing beefs.
Ja Rule went back to prison because he was too annoying to have out in the open - along with 50, though his best material did slip through into mainstream hip-hop warfare.
Jay-Z operated as Vice President of Rap under Kanye West who only achieved supremacy through his aggressive pro-democracy campaign using the slogan 'No one man should have all that Power.' supplemented by excellently produced beats from most of his previous albums.
Detroit exploded in size, quadrupling in population density and surface area in only three months due to millions of projects funded by Vanilla Ice and Cena.
Coolio was excommunicated.
Snoop stopped smoking more or less...as in he kept smoking the same amount.
The rest of the hip-hop worlds drew lines and crossed them again and again, squashing and reforming beef faster than the patty-maker at McDonalds. Westwood superseded Apple in terms of net income in just four days and became the primary source of news in the new world. Breakdancers and Parkour...ers... were used on the front lines to create visual distractions while the famous lyricists on both sides prepared new rap. Korea seceded from the world, as did the majority of Asia, since having auto-tuned 25-syllable-per-second rappers was just unfair.
Ultimately, the world divided itself into two distinct groups, one huge project in which individual turf wars occurred but mostly a system based on mutual respect and love for freedom dominated. Equality was established and though women, homosexuals and white people were often called out with slurs and stereotypical archetypes, they were always apologised to and no real beefs were left searing. Everybody wore head-scarves and went around shirtless and tattooed, marijuana was legalised as were other drugs, but their use was discouraged and anybody who did develop an addiction was helped out of it.
The other group was mainly just people breaking shit and wearing gigantic jewelry and drinking and claiming that they were gonna murder people.
In the end only Kendrick Lamar remained, mainly because the only way to eliminate an opponent in a world without weapons was simply to 'Kill their Vibe', an impossible feat given the circumstances.
And that is a short future-history of non-lethal rap. | "*Dear Marie,*
*It has been 12 days since I last wrote you.*"
Marie looked upon the envelope on her desk. It was withered, ripped apart from all sides, yellow from fat and grease, despite the mark indicating it was sent just under two weeks ago. Marie took the envelope in her hand and stroke it across her cheek, continuing to read the newer letter in her other hand. The envelope got wet.
"*I hope you have been well. I am sorry I could not have written sooner, but there were strict orders not to write during that time. Now you have probably heard why. Operation Blue Wolf was successful.*"
Marie looked up from the letter to see the newspaper on her desk. The screen displayed a couple headlines, among which an article about the cloned housecat, the protests in Moscow against digital voting, and the latest word of the prime minister on the automation crisis. Most prominently, though, she saw the hologram, designed to catch the attention. "RIO IS FREE!". For a moment there, she was convinced the paper was crashing, because the hologram became unreadable. Only when she felt her husband's letter wetting up, did she realize she was crying.
"*I probably shouldn't call it 'Operation Blue Wolf', but that's what everyone here calls it, so I have become accustomed to it. My men are cheering and drinking and dancing all night. I have to admit I didn't leave them alone in that regard.*"
A noise suddenly appeared behind her. Shocked, she turned to see the same wall she was leaning against before, blue-grey with a hint of purple, according to the interior artist at least. Then, a similar sound appeared as she realized the noise was her own laughter. Though it was more of a chuckle, inside she wanted to roll on the floor, put on the cheesiest party song she knew and break-dance completely out of rhythm with the music. Instead, she coughed a bit and turned the letter around, to read the other page.
"*It has been a while since anyone here had such a great time. We have been besieging Rio the past year or so, and only now have the effects took hold of the rebels inside. The population has been given the healthcare they should have gotten a long time ago. I saw children running down the streets with smiles from here to the moon on their faces. A sight I don't see often enough nowadays.*"
Marie looked to her left to see the other half of the bed empty. It has been that way a long time. 14 years ago, she met Adrian through League of Legends, a quite popular simulator at the time, though most people still called them "video games" back then. She was 17 years old when she started playing matches with hunterXXX on a regular basis. Not that she was any good at the simulator, let alone with her ping all the way from Brasilia, Brazil's then-capital. Nonetheless, she still enjoyed the chatting with this charming guy who spoke Portuguese with a strong German accent. They both ended up studying Applied Organic Chemistry, though Adrian at a much more prestigious school than Marie could afford.
"*I want to remind you to update the server to version 8.12.01. It's currently at 8.09.05 and the compatibility issues are showing. But more importantly, I want to remind you to eat your "fruits and vegetables" ;) tomorrow, from me. It's your birthday after all, and I know you will forget to eat them if I am not there to force you.*"
Marie leaned motionless against the wall after reading that, still like a statue, until she shook loose with tears welling up and that chuckle she let out earlier. She looked at the calendar and noticed it was indeed the last day of April, and the first day of May was the same day of the year she had been celebrating the past 30 years, to remind herself she made it through yet another. The tear had stopped welling up and slowly flowed down her cheek, dropping on the carpet floor. Marie, who would usually take a paper towel and some slight cuss words to clean it up, didn't even seam to notice; she was reading the letter again.
"*One last thing before I say goodbye. Frank has been having some issues lately with his daughter and all, he wrote me, and considering he has lost his cabby job lately, please help him out here and there if you can.*"
Marie looked straight ahead, and saw the family portrait hanging on the wall. Candice was still a baby back then. Last Saturday night, Candice stood in front of her doorstep seemingly wearing nothing but a bra and panties, though that didn't distract Marie. It was her looking down and asking permission to enter. As she had already opened the door wide before she even started asking the question, Marie wondered why she was alone at her doorstep. She didn't find out, but Candice slept in her house that night until she left the following morning. Frank stood outside, tears welling down his face, and held his arms open as Candice jumped into them. Despite such a cliched family act, neither seemed to laugh. Rather, both wept.
"*I think I will write you again in about a week. I know the specific time it will take, but can't tell you. What I can tell you is this: I love you.*
*With all my heart, Adrian*" |
|
[WP] Humans have stopped using sharp objects and bullets to kill. Describe what happens in a war. | Boris Volkov, the Russian Prime Minister, looked across the table with steely eyes. His gaze was met by Anthony Chambers, the President of the US.
"It seems," a reporter could be heard in the distance talking to a camera, "that the negotiations have reached a much-predicted impasse. Could this be a revival of spirits from the Cold War?"
The Russian leader turned his head ever so slightly, with his eyes still fixed on his adversary, to nod at someone from his party. The person immediately rose and left the table.
The President acted like-wise, as did one of his men.
"We are here, reporting live from the Kremlin, where it seems that preparations for the resolve of this conflict are already under-way. It appears neither of the great leaders had much faith in the other, as they both seem to have been waiting for this moment."
The Russian party member arrived at the table, holding a large, ornate box. He dropped it in front of Volkov with a loud thud.
The Prime Minister turned to the rest of his entourage and picked out four of them. The rest departed.
"Finally," he said to them, "I have been preparing for this day. I'm going to teach that smug bastard a lesson." They all smirked, some openly laughed.
They all took from the box an Occulus Rift each.
"The equipment is here, it seems," the reporter was going on. "The omni-directional treadmills are being set up as we speak."
The American team had picked out their own Rifts and were headed for the Omni's that were positioned, now, next to the table. They were fitting their custom digital gloves on their hands.
"Let's show them why they make these things in *Americah*, boys.", said Chambers. "I'm picking Sniper. We're going for a blitz." | General Horatio Phillips signaled the readied 12th Fluff cannon group and ordered the 3rd Kings Own Hugable Rifles to prepare for battle. On the other side of the field lay the dreaded Snuggle Bunny division known to tickle prisoners of war. Was there no sanity in this dreaded war of the pillows? General Phillips rode upon his trusty bunny mount in front of the battle group. "Men! Today we go forward to defend our way of life. Some of us may fall down, other may have their feelings hurt, but we shall all serve as pillow men!" |
|
[WP] Humans have stopped using sharp objects and bullets to kill. Describe what happens in a war. | Neutron Instability Cascade, or NICs as we called them in the service were a new weapon of war. It replaced damn near everything overnight. Not really sure how it worked, but it somehow popped the neutrons off an atom, which in turn made the whole thing unstable. Not in a nuclear bomb sort of way, but turning folks into hydrogen and trace other elements. It got hot real quick when one of those things was used and then gas and haze. After a few minutes it got real cold. Something about an energy exchange the intelligence people said.
I remember running in the snow, and hearing that “click clack click clack” sound of the NICs firing. Sounded like one of those annoying air filters with the metal filter. Couldn’t see the beams fired, but whatever they hit turned to gas. Hell, armor was useless, would go through anything without stopping. Only reason to duck behind a wall was to make sure they didn’t see you. That’s when they started working on that optic camouflage in earnest.
I was deployed in Georgia then. Defending borders until General Chelsea’s push south. Before the war Georgia was beautiful, before we put all the ruts into the earth and flattened near everything. The fighting was so thick, by then end it was snowing, in July. Our weapons pulled so much energy out of the area it was screwing up the weather.
One morning we were doing a patrol when a NIC bomb dropped on the jeep in front of us and the whole thing went up in H-smoke. The rest of ducked behind an old gas station, lying as flat as we could in a small ditch. I was next to Dakota, a nice lady from Iowa. We were close. Real close. She took NIC-grenade to the chest. Nothing left but smoke and ash. It is hard losing a fellow squad mate and close friend. Harder still breathing them in your lungs when they die. Never took off my resperator mask after that day.
| General Horatio Phillips signaled the readied 12th Fluff cannon group and ordered the 3rd Kings Own Hugable Rifles to prepare for battle. On the other side of the field lay the dreaded Snuggle Bunny division known to tickle prisoners of war. Was there no sanity in this dreaded war of the pillows? General Phillips rode upon his trusty bunny mount in front of the battle group. "Men! Today we go forward to defend our way of life. Some of us may fall down, other may have their feelings hurt, but we shall all serve as pillow men!" |
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[WP] In a world where everyone had a watch that said how long you have left to live, you board a plane. When it takes off, everyones watch is set to 20 minutes | My L-watch sang a note, and so did every other L-watch on the plane. Each note was subtly different, creating a beautiful yet harrowing symphony, ending as abruptly as it began. In a following silence, a baby started crying.
I looked at my wrist. As of that moment, I had 20 minutes to live.
"This is captain speaking. As you can see, the Institute of the Divine Will had just revealed a new part of God's plan -- one that was previously unknown to them. The details and reasons are still hidden, but it is known that everyone present will perish in 20 minutes.
Please avoid panic and try to spend your last minutes wisely. Captain out."
I was sweating. Of course everyone knew sudden changes happened sometimes — full extent of divine will was not to be known, and the science of it was as hard as quantum mechanics, if not harder. A student might spend two days on complex math, suddenly realizing he only learned a reason for a single leaf to fall.
"It is for the best" said a guy sitting to my right. "We can try to understand it, but in the end it is all a part of the plan." He was wearing a ridiculously out-of-place Christmas sweater and huge glasses.
I looked at him without understanding a word. 20 minutes left. 20 minutes.
And so much not done, and Lin waiting for me in the city, still waiting after all we went through.
"There should be a parachute somewhere". The thought was ridiculous, but once it appeared I just couldn't lose it. Of course, L-watch was pretty clear about my potential success. And according to some people I will absolutely guarantee myself damnation if I even try to save myself — though I believe that all such attempts must be a part of the plan as well.
So I thought about things undone, ignored the guy with glasses, and then used in-flight wifi to find where the parachutes might be in a plane like this. Then I went and got one. Of course nobody tried to stop me. It seemed that most people believed in doctrine that promised damnation to survivors. And some of more reasonable ones just found panic undignified.
By the time it was down to five minutes, I finally had the parachute strapped on and ready to go. Stewardess was happy to help me, though she moved a bit like a zombie, probably still in shock after L-watch update. It felt weird to go five minutes early, after all the old movies I was half expecting to get ready at the last possible second.
But of course I didn't wait. I thought about Lin, jumped and started counting.
In five minutes, the plane exploded. As it exploded, I saw glimpses of what happened, not with my eyes of course, but as experienced by the other passengers. A true vision — as rare as ball lightning, and only slightly better understood. In it, I saw the sweater guy standing up, lifting his sweater, and all the wires underneath. "The sinners will be cleansed by flames" he said "and so I am the divine will manifest, the angel of death". And the fire bloomed.
As I was falling, still early to open the parachute, my L-watch sang. The note was hopeful and clear.
I looked at my wrist to see it empty -- no number at all. I wondered what it meant.
But it felt full of promise. | Many cry. Some pray.
Most called their families. Shame.
Only just a glitch. |
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[WP]A new drug that makes you dream of a new life (from birth to death) but only for 5 minutes, and you are the beta tester. What the chemists didn't know is that in the dream time is altered and you feel like 80 years pass. Describe your dream! | Billy lived a good life. He had a loving wife and 4 children who gave him 9 grandchildren and 2 great grandchildren. He didn't want it to be over. But he was 80 years old and his health was failing. Sometimes people just know when their time has come. Billy's time was near.
"I'm so glad all four of my children were able to be here with me today," said Billy in his deathbed. "I don't feel 89 years old at all. My mind is still as sharp as ever." Billy said as his strength was fading. "I can remember being a young child and playing with my friends. I remember the births of each my my children and their children. My only regret is living to suffer through my beloved wife's death 8 years ago. I truly believe no one can love a person more than I loved my dear wife of 62 years," said Billy as his eyes closed for the last time.
"Albert, wake up!" said the tech-nurse. 28 year old Albert Grant wakes up very disoriented. "Just relax Albert, it's going to take a few minutes for you to become oriented with reality," said the nurse. "Why are you calling me Albert? My name is Billy Bob Madsen, what did you do to me? I feel great! So much energy! Where is my family?!" exclaimed Albert as he gets out of bed to look for his family. The nurse calls for assistance. "Mr. Grant, stop! You can't let these wires disconnect for another 3 hours or else...." before the nurse could finish, Albert walks out of the room and disconnects the wires from his arms.
"Oh no Albert, what have you done?" asked the nurse rhetorically. I told you to stay where you are. This could be bad," the nurse getting anxious as 3 doctors come into the hallway outside Albert's room. The doctor explains to Albert that he interrupted the recovery process by disconnecting the wires to his arms. The wires are used to purge the 'artificial life' from the real one so the subject can return to normal.
"Stop calling me Albert! My name is Billy and I can tell you my life story. My struggles, my children and their children and their children! I remember all of it! You can't tell me it wasn't real!" said Albert defiantly.
Albert had a wife of 3 years and a 2 year old child. He was a real estate lawyer in Chicago. The doctors had to sedate Albert because he was hysterical about seeing his 'family'. The next day, Albert wakes up. He finally remembers his real life but also remembers his other life where he lived to be 80 years old. He remembers his beloved wife of 62 years. Every year of it. His deep affection for his dream wife made it impossible for Albert to enjoy his real life. The tech-doctors advised the team that they would need to alter the dream sequence pills in version 1.01.
Albert's wife served him with divorce papers 3 months later. Albert would go on to support his child financially, but would never develop a healthy relationship with the child. Albert spent the next 52 years in emotional turmoil over not being able to see his dream family. He never accepted the fact that it wasn't real. It was a lifetime of torment. Albert died unhappily at the age of 80.
"Mr. Elton, you're awake! You slept almost 12 hours longer than we had expected. Are you feeling okay? Do you know where you are?" asked the tech-nurse. "Elton? My name is not Elton," exclaimed the man in the bed.
One of the tech-doctors tells the others "Looks like version 1.9 is no good either. Give him another 'dream'." | "Do you happen to see what happened to Elise and Carl at the fundraiser last night?"
"No I missed it but people have been goin on and on about how big a fool Elise made of Carl, so what happened?"
"Well so as the cameras switched from Carl as he was talking about all the good his new film was doing..."
Eric laid awake under the sheets with his down feather pillow laying lifeless on the floor, it had lost it battle with gravity and Eric's incessant tossing and turning during the night. The fan blades about the bed glided effortlessly through the brisk morning air that seeped in through the window that propped open during the night. Eric rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned heavily, as he did he looked to the radio where the two dis were prattling on about some big bit of news that happened at some ritzy party. He reached over and pressed the off button on the stereo and the voices stopped.
As Eric made his way downstairs he could smell the coffee brewing. He inhaled deeply and goosebumps gathered on his body as his nervous system finally registered the cold of the morning. He hopped past the last two stair and made his way to the window where he quickly shut it. He looked out across the yard as the sun just barely over the horizon, he shivered once more as he noticed the frost that accumulated on the grass. "I hate winter." He made his way to fridge and grabbed a bottle of coffee creamer, he shook it and realized there wasn't enough for a full cup. Sighing he reached in and grabbed another bottle "peppermint mocha and pumpkin spice. Ugh." He grabbed a cup that most people would consider a soup bowl and poured a cup of the black liquid energy, he popped the lids of the two creamers and pour the entirety of them in to his mug. He watched as the light of the creamers mixed in with the dark as his spoon rotated clockwise in the cup making small clinking noises as it bumped the edges of the porcelain. In the end light over came the dark as Eric took an big sip of the concoction, regretting it as he did so. " wow, damnit, hot!" He wiped up the bit of coffee that spilled as he jerked the hot drink from his mouth.
"So what are you doing tonight Eric?"
"I dunno my dad probably has something planned for my birthday but he's trying to keep it under wraps. My brothers keep bugging me about wanting to get together though max hardly ever wants to go anywhere or do anything he always says ' maybe' I wish he'd just say no so I knew how to plan."
"That's annoying. I mean why do you keep inviting him to do things if he always flakes?"
"Well he my brother and we never used to get along when we were kids but after my mom we just kind of sorta bonded you know?"
"Yea but still he should make a better effort. Anyways if you end up not doing anything I'm free after work." Amanda let the statement stand on its own as she leaned on counter.
"Careful I might just take you up on that." Eric said as he smiled and winked at Amanda who by all accounts was kind of pretty.
"I hope you do." Amanda said as she unleashed the full power of her kind of pretty smile.
"I'd like to name her Charlotte after my mom." Eric proposed with bags under his eyes
Amanda rolled her eyes as she lay drenched in sweat in a pool of her own bodily fluids and a small, ugly baby girl laid in her arms. "How about Elise? "
"Elise. Like that dumb bimbo actress Elise?" Eric was if with defeat heavy on his voice, "Elise is a pretty name though."
Eric watched as Elise went onto her first day of her first year of school, then her second year and third and so on.
"Are you sure you have everything?"
"Yes dad I'm sure." Elise giggled as she hugged her dad.
"I'm proud of you honey." Eric admonished as he let go of Elise. "I'm sorry you mom couldn't come she had that appointment and you know how she is with keeping her appointments."
"Don't worry dad I know. Tell her I love now go on before you embarrass me in front of my roommate." Elise said as she began pushing her dad out the door.
" alright, alright I'm going. Take car of my little princess!" Eric yelled back just as he exited the building.
"Dad!" He heard yell exasperated. He laughed to himself and smiled proudly as he pulled out of the parking lot and continued smiling as he flipped on the radio and passed the "north ridge community college" sign.
Eric sat on edge of the dusty old couch, a quickly warming bottle of bud light held loosely in his hand. The pen he had been holding had took a leap of faith off his knee less jeans and landed peacefully on the linoleum floor. He sat with his head hanging listlessly from his shoulders. He knew he should be crying but he just didn't have the energy anymore. He looked helplessly to his left where the TV tray he used for an end table sat. It's polished brass edges were fighting a losing battle against the all powerful rust. Sighing deeply Eric roused his aging body off the couch. The sudden movement caused dust particles to escape the confines of the couch and get captured by a ray of the low evening sun. Eric snatched up a bundle of papers that covered the kinkade esque picture the brass borders held in. He dropped the newly signed divorce papers into the outgoing mail slot. He glanced at the table where a card with a cat that had two huge googly eyes on the front. "You're how old!?" It read, "happy sixty-eighth birthday old man! Love maxwell."
"I love you buddy." Max said through tears
"I love you too max." Eric said as he laid in the hospital bed. " where'd everyone go?" He asked as he looked around the empty room.
"Elise said she had to go pick up dinner for mike but she'd be back tomorrow, she also wanted to freshen up. " Max explained. "Amanda said she might try and make it over this weekend."
"Oh I see." Eric whispered exhausted. "
"... I can't believe Carl didn't get right up and knock Steve right off the stage! Oh look he's up, how was your cat nap Eric."
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[WP]A new drug that makes you dream of a new life (from birth to death) but only for 5 minutes, and you are the beta tester. What the chemists didn't know is that in the dream time is altered and you feel like 80 years pass. Describe your dream! | Which one was it? How deep am I? I have to admit I am amazed the brain is capable of this much time dilation. OH, I am ahead of myself. Sorry, let me explain. On my 80th birthday, on my deathbed, I took part in a drug trial. It sank me into a deep sleep, meant to be my last one. They said it would allow me to live much longer, but in a dream like state. Live out another life in my head, as my brain dumped its entire store of chemicals at once while I was still alive instead of just on the fringe of death. Interestingly, I lived a full 80 year life, different from the first, and on my death bed the same thing happened. Yet another whole life, a new beginning. Oddly, every life ended the same way - with a new beginning. I had lived, what, maybe a dozen lives now? Hundreds and hundreds of years. Every minute detail, stubbed toes highs and lows.
Finally, I feel fulfilled. This time, I am denying the treatment. I am going to let it all slide away, a dozen lives are enough for me to be satisfied that I have done everything available to me. I slip away into the dark that night, drawing my last breath.
---
"Charles, welcome back." the disembodied voice said, I was vaguely aware of movement and figures around me. My body could feel several people in the room, and it was bright - So very bright.
"Heart rate up. Calm down, Charles. It's ok, your done now. The trial was a success, you have only been under for five minutes. The brain activity was off the charts, we literally broke the scanner!" she sounded excited, I wasn't. My head was throbbing, I was confused.
"Where am I?" I asked.
"Goliath's Medical College, where you were five minutes ago. Do you remember? The trial..." she trailed off, a hint of concern leaked into her voice.
"I... think I remember." I sat up, looking around at the several scientists in cliche lab coats surrounding me.
"Alright, so. Your name?"
"Charles... uhh Berkley."
"Good, your age?"
"Twenty Five, I think. Forgive me if I don't really get anything right, its been crazy."
"What was it like?" she asked, too enraptured by my story to continue her post-trial checkups. The rest of them stood there silently, waiting.
How could I tell them, how could I explain over a thousand years of lives had just happened in the span of five minutes? How could anybody ever understand. | "Do you happen to see what happened to Elise and Carl at the fundraiser last night?"
"No I missed it but people have been goin on and on about how big a fool Elise made of Carl, so what happened?"
"Well so as the cameras switched from Carl as he was talking about all the good his new film was doing..."
Eric laid awake under the sheets with his down feather pillow laying lifeless on the floor, it had lost it battle with gravity and Eric's incessant tossing and turning during the night. The fan blades about the bed glided effortlessly through the brisk morning air that seeped in through the window that propped open during the night. Eric rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned heavily, as he did he looked to the radio where the two dis were prattling on about some big bit of news that happened at some ritzy party. He reached over and pressed the off button on the stereo and the voices stopped.
As Eric made his way downstairs he could smell the coffee brewing. He inhaled deeply and goosebumps gathered on his body as his nervous system finally registered the cold of the morning. He hopped past the last two stair and made his way to the window where he quickly shut it. He looked out across the yard as the sun just barely over the horizon, he shivered once more as he noticed the frost that accumulated on the grass. "I hate winter." He made his way to fridge and grabbed a bottle of coffee creamer, he shook it and realized there wasn't enough for a full cup. Sighing he reached in and grabbed another bottle "peppermint mocha and pumpkin spice. Ugh." He grabbed a cup that most people would consider a soup bowl and poured a cup of the black liquid energy, he popped the lids of the two creamers and pour the entirety of them in to his mug. He watched as the light of the creamers mixed in with the dark as his spoon rotated clockwise in the cup making small clinking noises as it bumped the edges of the porcelain. In the end light over came the dark as Eric took an big sip of the concoction, regretting it as he did so. " wow, damnit, hot!" He wiped up the bit of coffee that spilled as he jerked the hot drink from his mouth.
"So what are you doing tonight Eric?"
"I dunno my dad probably has something planned for my birthday but he's trying to keep it under wraps. My brothers keep bugging me about wanting to get together though max hardly ever wants to go anywhere or do anything he always says ' maybe' I wish he'd just say no so I knew how to plan."
"That's annoying. I mean why do you keep inviting him to do things if he always flakes?"
"Well he my brother and we never used to get along when we were kids but after my mom we just kind of sorta bonded you know?"
"Yea but still he should make a better effort. Anyways if you end up not doing anything I'm free after work." Amanda let the statement stand on its own as she leaned on counter.
"Careful I might just take you up on that." Eric said as he smiled and winked at Amanda who by all accounts was kind of pretty.
"I hope you do." Amanda said as she unleashed the full power of her kind of pretty smile.
"I'd like to name her Charlotte after my mom." Eric proposed with bags under his eyes
Amanda rolled her eyes as she lay drenched in sweat in a pool of her own bodily fluids and a small, ugly baby girl laid in her arms. "How about Elise? "
"Elise. Like that dumb bimbo actress Elise?" Eric was if with defeat heavy on his voice, "Elise is a pretty name though."
Eric watched as Elise went onto her first day of her first year of school, then her second year and third and so on.
"Are you sure you have everything?"
"Yes dad I'm sure." Elise giggled as she hugged her dad.
"I'm proud of you honey." Eric admonished as he let go of Elise. "I'm sorry you mom couldn't come she had that appointment and you know how she is with keeping her appointments."
"Don't worry dad I know. Tell her I love now go on before you embarrass me in front of my roommate." Elise said as she began pushing her dad out the door.
" alright, alright I'm going. Take car of my little princess!" Eric yelled back just as he exited the building.
"Dad!" He heard yell exasperated. He laughed to himself and smiled proudly as he pulled out of the parking lot and continued smiling as he flipped on the radio and passed the "north ridge community college" sign.
Eric sat on edge of the dusty old couch, a quickly warming bottle of bud light held loosely in his hand. The pen he had been holding had took a leap of faith off his knee less jeans and landed peacefully on the linoleum floor. He sat with his head hanging listlessly from his shoulders. He knew he should be crying but he just didn't have the energy anymore. He looked helplessly to his left where the TV tray he used for an end table sat. It's polished brass edges were fighting a losing battle against the all powerful rust. Sighing deeply Eric roused his aging body off the couch. The sudden movement caused dust particles to escape the confines of the couch and get captured by a ray of the low evening sun. Eric snatched up a bundle of papers that covered the kinkade esque picture the brass borders held in. He dropped the newly signed divorce papers into the outgoing mail slot. He glanced at the table where a card with a cat that had two huge googly eyes on the front. "You're how old!?" It read, "happy sixty-eighth birthday old man! Love maxwell."
"I love you buddy." Max said through tears
"I love you too max." Eric said as he laid in the hospital bed. " where'd everyone go?" He asked as he looked around the empty room.
"Elise said she had to go pick up dinner for mike but she'd be back tomorrow, she also wanted to freshen up. " Max explained. "Amanda said she might try and make it over this weekend."
"Oh I see." Eric whispered exhausted. "
"... I can't believe Carl didn't get right up and knock Steve right off the stage! Oh look he's up, how was your cat nap Eric."
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[WP]A new drug that makes you dream of a new life (from birth to death) but only for 5 minutes, and you are the beta tester. What the chemists didn't know is that in the dream time is altered and you feel like 80 years pass. Describe your dream! | Not to detract from the actual responses but there was a guy that went through something similar in reaity that posted on reddit. Went into a brief coma and lived out a decade of a fantasy life in detail where he fell in love and got married and had children. Eventually the dream started to collapse in on itself and he woke up only to find that none of it was real. He was crushed that his wife and children were gone and had never actually been and he needed therapy for a long time after in order to deal with his loss. If anyone has a link to the story share it. It's really heart breaking. | "Do you happen to see what happened to Elise and Carl at the fundraiser last night?"
"No I missed it but people have been goin on and on about how big a fool Elise made of Carl, so what happened?"
"Well so as the cameras switched from Carl as he was talking about all the good his new film was doing..."
Eric laid awake under the sheets with his down feather pillow laying lifeless on the floor, it had lost it battle with gravity and Eric's incessant tossing and turning during the night. The fan blades about the bed glided effortlessly through the brisk morning air that seeped in through the window that propped open during the night. Eric rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned heavily, as he did he looked to the radio where the two dis were prattling on about some big bit of news that happened at some ritzy party. He reached over and pressed the off button on the stereo and the voices stopped.
As Eric made his way downstairs he could smell the coffee brewing. He inhaled deeply and goosebumps gathered on his body as his nervous system finally registered the cold of the morning. He hopped past the last two stair and made his way to the window where he quickly shut it. He looked out across the yard as the sun just barely over the horizon, he shivered once more as he noticed the frost that accumulated on the grass. "I hate winter." He made his way to fridge and grabbed a bottle of coffee creamer, he shook it and realized there wasn't enough for a full cup. Sighing he reached in and grabbed another bottle "peppermint mocha and pumpkin spice. Ugh." He grabbed a cup that most people would consider a soup bowl and poured a cup of the black liquid energy, he popped the lids of the two creamers and pour the entirety of them in to his mug. He watched as the light of the creamers mixed in with the dark as his spoon rotated clockwise in the cup making small clinking noises as it bumped the edges of the porcelain. In the end light over came the dark as Eric took an big sip of the concoction, regretting it as he did so. " wow, damnit, hot!" He wiped up the bit of coffee that spilled as he jerked the hot drink from his mouth.
"So what are you doing tonight Eric?"
"I dunno my dad probably has something planned for my birthday but he's trying to keep it under wraps. My brothers keep bugging me about wanting to get together though max hardly ever wants to go anywhere or do anything he always says ' maybe' I wish he'd just say no so I knew how to plan."
"That's annoying. I mean why do you keep inviting him to do things if he always flakes?"
"Well he my brother and we never used to get along when we were kids but after my mom we just kind of sorta bonded you know?"
"Yea but still he should make a better effort. Anyways if you end up not doing anything I'm free after work." Amanda let the statement stand on its own as she leaned on counter.
"Careful I might just take you up on that." Eric said as he smiled and winked at Amanda who by all accounts was kind of pretty.
"I hope you do." Amanda said as she unleashed the full power of her kind of pretty smile.
"I'd like to name her Charlotte after my mom." Eric proposed with bags under his eyes
Amanda rolled her eyes as she lay drenched in sweat in a pool of her own bodily fluids and a small, ugly baby girl laid in her arms. "How about Elise? "
"Elise. Like that dumb bimbo actress Elise?" Eric was if with defeat heavy on his voice, "Elise is a pretty name though."
Eric watched as Elise went onto her first day of her first year of school, then her second year and third and so on.
"Are you sure you have everything?"
"Yes dad I'm sure." Elise giggled as she hugged her dad.
"I'm proud of you honey." Eric admonished as he let go of Elise. "I'm sorry you mom couldn't come she had that appointment and you know how she is with keeping her appointments."
"Don't worry dad I know. Tell her I love now go on before you embarrass me in front of my roommate." Elise said as she began pushing her dad out the door.
" alright, alright I'm going. Take car of my little princess!" Eric yelled back just as he exited the building.
"Dad!" He heard yell exasperated. He laughed to himself and smiled proudly as he pulled out of the parking lot and continued smiling as he flipped on the radio and passed the "north ridge community college" sign.
Eric sat on edge of the dusty old couch, a quickly warming bottle of bud light held loosely in his hand. The pen he had been holding had took a leap of faith off his knee less jeans and landed peacefully on the linoleum floor. He sat with his head hanging listlessly from his shoulders. He knew he should be crying but he just didn't have the energy anymore. He looked helplessly to his left where the TV tray he used for an end table sat. It's polished brass edges were fighting a losing battle against the all powerful rust. Sighing deeply Eric roused his aging body off the couch. The sudden movement caused dust particles to escape the confines of the couch and get captured by a ray of the low evening sun. Eric snatched up a bundle of papers that covered the kinkade esque picture the brass borders held in. He dropped the newly signed divorce papers into the outgoing mail slot. He glanced at the table where a card with a cat that had two huge googly eyes on the front. "You're how old!?" It read, "happy sixty-eighth birthday old man! Love maxwell."
"I love you buddy." Max said through tears
"I love you too max." Eric said as he laid in the hospital bed. " where'd everyone go?" He asked as he looked around the empty room.
"Elise said she had to go pick up dinner for mike but she'd be back tomorrow, she also wanted to freshen up. " Max explained. "Amanda said she might try and make it over this weekend."
"Oh I see." Eric whispered exhausted. "
"... I can't believe Carl didn't get right up and knock Steve right off the stage! Oh look he's up, how was your cat nap Eric."
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[WP]A new drug that makes you dream of a new life (from birth to death) but only for 5 minutes, and you are the beta tester. What the chemists didn't know is that in the dream time is altered and you feel like 80 years pass. Describe your dream! | My name is Arthur Philips. I'm 80 years old. It is the year 2070 and this world doesn't exist. I have decided to share my story in hopes that I might not die in vain without anybody knowing the truth, should I be wrong about this false reality. But if I am right, this world will cease to exist with my death. My beloved wife of 56 years passed away last night and at that, I have nothing left to live for in this world. My heart has broken, and along with it my will to continue this lie perishes.
They told me I was wrong. They sent me to doctors who told me that my previous life is a fabrication of my mind. They gave me pills and told me that it would all go away, but it did not. I have struggled with this my entire life. Everybody I know and love in this world isn't real. I know it sounds crazy and I know you have no reason to believe me, but this is the truth. This is the world that is a fabrication of my mind, not the world before.
I entered a clinical drug trial at the age of 24 for $100 compensation. They told me that I would only be unconscious for 5 minutes. They said I would gain the experience of a full lifetime and that I would become a better person for it. They said it would solve all of my problems and that I wouldn't be depressed anymore after I woke up. I figured I had nothing to lose, my life felt empty and meaningless and $100 was a lot of money to a broke 24 year old.
That was 80 years ago. My life had started over. I had new parents and new name, but I have always been aware of my previous life, of the world before. I was not always able to comprehend my previous life, however. It was around the age of six when I began to recognize that I was in a dream world. Memories from before started to flood my mind. I cried almost every day because I knew I was trapped in this lucid dream of mine and that I was really just a depressed 24 year old.
That's when they started taking me to doctors. They started diagnosing me with this and that and everything in between. They put me in special school programs because they recognized my intelligence but mistook my previous life as mental illness. It didn't get better from there. I used to stay up late at night, begging the doctors from before to wake me up, to return me to what I was. I felt so lonely in this dream world of mine, despite being surrounded by loving parents and a wonderful brother and sister. I often dreamed of the world before. I could see the faces of the people that I once recognized as my parents. I could see my friends playing card games and I could hear my cat meowing. But they said it isn't real. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the world before. But I always woke up in my dream world with tears running down my cheeks.
It was around my 12th birthday that I began to accept my loss. I was stuck in this world and I had no choice. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I would return to reality at some point if I simply carried on with my phony life. I tried to make the best of it. I could live two whole lives in the time that everybody else lives one, surely that's worth a fortune? Once this life was fulfilled, I could simply pick my old one back up and continue with that. But it wasn't easy. It was never easy.
I lived a very dark and depressed life into my mid-twenties in this dream world. It was even worse than it was in the world before. I was just going through the motions and waiting for the day I could resume my real life. I couldn't accept what the therapists told me, what the doctors all said. I began contemplating suicide in hopes of ending this nightmare early and finding the world before. This world wasn't real and it would never matter.
That is, until I met her.
She came onto my life from nowhere. I was a lost and hopeless soul wandering the darkness suddenly illuminated by a blinding beacon of light. My life suddenly became so bright that I forgot all about the world before. I guess love will do that to you, but she stole my troubles away and left me with reason to go on with this lucid reality. The nightmares stopped and I began waking up with a smile on my face. When I closed my eyes, I saw only her beautiful face smiling back at me. I'd get lost in her big brown eyes and suddenly this world became more real than anything I ever knew.
I had never known love before. Not in this world and not in the world before. My love for her overthrew everything that I understood to be real. Why would I want to go back to a world where love didn't exist for me? For all I cared, this was the real world and the world before was just a sad delusion and I even began to believe that. We got married when I was 26. We had two beautiful children. Life made sense and I didn't want anything to change.
I stopped seeing the doctors. I stopped taking their drugs. I didn't need anything to keep me sane except for her. She held my world in her eyes and when I gazed into them, I saw true happiness. I saw it the first time we kissed. As she slowly pulled her head back, I opened my eyes and my world was absorbed into her big, beautiful brown eyes. They were like a portal to another reality. I found the real world, and it **wasn't** the world before.
It feels like yesterday that we were celebrating our 50th anniversary. I still remember hugging my grandchildren and telling them stories of their grandmother when we were younger. All the places we went together and all the things we did. I wouldn't change any of it. But now that's all over. She succumbed to the cancer after a valiant 4 year struggle. I kissed her one last time. I gazed deep into those beautiful brown eyes of hers and told her I loved her. A single tear streamed down her cheek as her breathing ceased.
And just like that, it was over. The darkness came flooding back as my beacon had burned out. It hit me like an asteroid impacting the moon. Nothing matters anymore. This life has returned to being a lie. I sit here at my desk writing this, knowing that there's only one thing I can do. I have to end it. There's nothing left here for me. To my kids and grandchildren, please forgive me. If you still exist tomorrow, then the doctors were surely correct all along and I really am crazy. Just know that I love you all.
*With love, Arthur Philips*
Arthur closed his laptop and turned to the loaded rifle he had leaning against his desk and let out a deep sigh. This was it, it was finally happening. He stood up and looked around his office, decorated with pictures of his family. He looked at each individual photo with a smile. His children, his grandchildren, his parents. His brother and sister and nieces and nephews. It was a good life, but the world before was overtaking him. As he got to the last photo, a photo of his wife in a golden frame on his desk, his eyes began to tear up.
"I'm sorry, my beacon of light." he muttered to himself as he picked up the rifle. "I know you wouldn't want it to end like this, but that world before awaits me. I must do this. I will always love you. I will always remember your big, beautiful brown eyes."
"James?" a sudden voice rang out. James opened his eyes and saw a familiar face. "Don't make any sudden movement James, you'll be groggy for a few minutes as the drug wears off. We had to pull you out of it early, one of the other patients awoke just before you and it seems there's an unforeseen side effect. The year is 2014, you're in Mulberry Labs, and you were out for just over four minutes. Please take a moment to collect yourself and you may sit up when you feel you're ready."
The face was that of the doctor who had given him the injection moments ago. The bright florescent lights beamed into his eyes as he struggled to comprehend his surroundings. James felt unusual, like he had just turned back the clock. He felt like he was a kid again.
"2014?" James managed to ask as he slowly began to sit up.
"That's right. I'm sure you're very confused right now. Please remain calm and let yourself gather your thoughts. I'll be back to check on you in a minute after I'm done helping Susan."
James looked around the room and it suddenly clicked. The world before! Arthur really wasn't crazy! Everything Arthur knew and loved had ceased to exist, but the world James knew had returned. His heart rate rose as he realized what it meant. His hands began shaking and his eyes began to fill with tears.
"That's a h-hell of a drug you've got there doc." His voice trembled as he spoke. But it was just the way he remembered it, 80 years and he still remembered the lab where it all began. It was a medium sized room with 3 examination tables on either side. Everything was so white and sterile, just like a doctor's office. There was only two people in the room aside from James. The familiar doctor and another patient, Susan, who James hadn't met before. James turned his body towards the examination table next to him where Susan and the doctor were and let his legs dangle off.
"Alright, I'm going to go get your paperwork in order, Susan, and then I'll be right back to help you, James." the doctor said as she walked towards a desk on the far end of the room.
"I guess we're the first people to ever get to get a second go at life" Susan said with relief in her voice and a big smile on her face. "And I think I know exactly what I want to do with it."
"I know what you mean. That drug really has solved all of my problems." James responded as he gazed deep into Susan's big, beautiful, brown eyes.
| "Do you happen to see what happened to Elise and Carl at the fundraiser last night?"
"No I missed it but people have been goin on and on about how big a fool Elise made of Carl, so what happened?"
"Well so as the cameras switched from Carl as he was talking about all the good his new film was doing..."
Eric laid awake under the sheets with his down feather pillow laying lifeless on the floor, it had lost it battle with gravity and Eric's incessant tossing and turning during the night. The fan blades about the bed glided effortlessly through the brisk morning air that seeped in through the window that propped open during the night. Eric rubbed the sleep from his eyes and yawned heavily, as he did he looked to the radio where the two dis were prattling on about some big bit of news that happened at some ritzy party. He reached over and pressed the off button on the stereo and the voices stopped.
As Eric made his way downstairs he could smell the coffee brewing. He inhaled deeply and goosebumps gathered on his body as his nervous system finally registered the cold of the morning. He hopped past the last two stair and made his way to the window where he quickly shut it. He looked out across the yard as the sun just barely over the horizon, he shivered once more as he noticed the frost that accumulated on the grass. "I hate winter." He made his way to fridge and grabbed a bottle of coffee creamer, he shook it and realized there wasn't enough for a full cup. Sighing he reached in and grabbed another bottle "peppermint mocha and pumpkin spice. Ugh." He grabbed a cup that most people would consider a soup bowl and poured a cup of the black liquid energy, he popped the lids of the two creamers and pour the entirety of them in to his mug. He watched as the light of the creamers mixed in with the dark as his spoon rotated clockwise in the cup making small clinking noises as it bumped the edges of the porcelain. In the end light over came the dark as Eric took an big sip of the concoction, regretting it as he did so. " wow, damnit, hot!" He wiped up the bit of coffee that spilled as he jerked the hot drink from his mouth.
"So what are you doing tonight Eric?"
"I dunno my dad probably has something planned for my birthday but he's trying to keep it under wraps. My brothers keep bugging me about wanting to get together though max hardly ever wants to go anywhere or do anything he always says ' maybe' I wish he'd just say no so I knew how to plan."
"That's annoying. I mean why do you keep inviting him to do things if he always flakes?"
"Well he my brother and we never used to get along when we were kids but after my mom we just kind of sorta bonded you know?"
"Yea but still he should make a better effort. Anyways if you end up not doing anything I'm free after work." Amanda let the statement stand on its own as she leaned on counter.
"Careful I might just take you up on that." Eric said as he smiled and winked at Amanda who by all accounts was kind of pretty.
"I hope you do." Amanda said as she unleashed the full power of her kind of pretty smile.
"I'd like to name her Charlotte after my mom." Eric proposed with bags under his eyes
Amanda rolled her eyes as she lay drenched in sweat in a pool of her own bodily fluids and a small, ugly baby girl laid in her arms. "How about Elise? "
"Elise. Like that dumb bimbo actress Elise?" Eric was if with defeat heavy on his voice, "Elise is a pretty name though."
Eric watched as Elise went onto her first day of her first year of school, then her second year and third and so on.
"Are you sure you have everything?"
"Yes dad I'm sure." Elise giggled as she hugged her dad.
"I'm proud of you honey." Eric admonished as he let go of Elise. "I'm sorry you mom couldn't come she had that appointment and you know how she is with keeping her appointments."
"Don't worry dad I know. Tell her I love now go on before you embarrass me in front of my roommate." Elise said as she began pushing her dad out the door.
" alright, alright I'm going. Take car of my little princess!" Eric yelled back just as he exited the building.
"Dad!" He heard yell exasperated. He laughed to himself and smiled proudly as he pulled out of the parking lot and continued smiling as he flipped on the radio and passed the "north ridge community college" sign.
Eric sat on edge of the dusty old couch, a quickly warming bottle of bud light held loosely in his hand. The pen he had been holding had took a leap of faith off his knee less jeans and landed peacefully on the linoleum floor. He sat with his head hanging listlessly from his shoulders. He knew he should be crying but he just didn't have the energy anymore. He looked helplessly to his left where the TV tray he used for an end table sat. It's polished brass edges were fighting a losing battle against the all powerful rust. Sighing deeply Eric roused his aging body off the couch. The sudden movement caused dust particles to escape the confines of the couch and get captured by a ray of the low evening sun. Eric snatched up a bundle of papers that covered the kinkade esque picture the brass borders held in. He dropped the newly signed divorce papers into the outgoing mail slot. He glanced at the table where a card with a cat that had two huge googly eyes on the front. "You're how old!?" It read, "happy sixty-eighth birthday old man! Love maxwell."
"I love you buddy." Max said through tears
"I love you too max." Eric said as he laid in the hospital bed. " where'd everyone go?" He asked as he looked around the empty room.
"Elise said she had to go pick up dinner for mike but she'd be back tomorrow, she also wanted to freshen up. " Max explained. "Amanda said she might try and make it over this weekend."
"Oh I see." Eric whispered exhausted. "
"... I can't believe Carl didn't get right up and knock Steve right off the stage! Oh look he's up, how was your cat nap Eric."
|
|
[WP]A new drug that makes you dream of a new life (from birth to death) but only for 5 minutes, and you are the beta tester. What the chemists didn't know is that in the dream time is altered and you feel like 80 years pass. Describe your dream! | Not to detract from the actual responses but there was a guy that went through something similar in reaity that posted on reddit. Went into a brief coma and lived out a decade of a fantasy life in detail where he fell in love and got married and had children. Eventually the dream started to collapse in on itself and he woke up only to find that none of it was real. He was crushed that his wife and children were gone and had never actually been and he needed therapy for a long time after in order to deal with his loss. If anyone has a link to the story share it. It's really heart breaking. | **Just after he wakes up**
I slowly came back to myself. Off to one side, I could hear someone ask "How are you feeling, Mr. Lewis?"
"Fine. A little sleepy, I guess."
"That's perfectly normal." The doctor walked over to the monitors by his bedside. "Hm. Looks like all your vitals are steady, but we'll just keep you under observation for a few hours. Let us know if you start to feel ill."
"I will. Thanks, doc." I leaned back against the elevated pillow, and settled in for a nap. Then everything came back.
*The coffee farm in Jamaica.
All the friends that I made at school.
Julia.
Moving to the States at 16, knowing that I'd never see her again.
Early admission to Columbia.
Dropping out after a year.
Moving out to San Francisco.
Finishing my degree at Stanford.
Starting a band.
Quitting a band.
Starting another.
A few years of unsatisfying fame.
Moving back to New York.
Getting a job at the Village Voice.
Seeing Julia for the first time in 15 years.
Marrying Julia.
Our first, then second then third then fourth kid.
Moving from Manhattan to Brooklyn to Queens, then out to Long Island.
Being able to work from home for the first time.
Gaining the respect of my peers.
Moving to the Times.
Raising good, kind, healthy kids.
Moving back to California, and settling in the Bay Area.
Retirement.
Going right back to work for the Chronicle.
Seeing my kids get married and have children of their own.
The cancer diagnosis. Six months, they said.
Dying in my sleep with Julia by my side after two.*
It all came back in a flood. All the things that happened, but didn't really happen. All of the friends I met, the places I visited, the once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Julia. Oh god, Julia. How could I miss someone so much if I've never met her? It started as a sniffle, but within seconds I was close to bawling. I wrapped the pillow against my face, and cried for what felt like hours. Cried for everything that never happened. |
|
[WP]A new drug that makes you dream of a new life (from birth to death) but only for 5 minutes, and you are the beta tester. What the chemists didn't know is that in the dream time is altered and you feel like 80 years pass. Describe your dream! | My name is Arthur Philips. I'm 80 years old. It is the year 2070 and this world doesn't exist. I have decided to share my story in hopes that I might not die in vain without anybody knowing the truth, should I be wrong about this false reality. But if I am right, this world will cease to exist with my death. My beloved wife of 56 years passed away last night and at that, I have nothing left to live for in this world. My heart has broken, and along with it my will to continue this lie perishes.
They told me I was wrong. They sent me to doctors who told me that my previous life is a fabrication of my mind. They gave me pills and told me that it would all go away, but it did not. I have struggled with this my entire life. Everybody I know and love in this world isn't real. I know it sounds crazy and I know you have no reason to believe me, but this is the truth. This is the world that is a fabrication of my mind, not the world before.
I entered a clinical drug trial at the age of 24 for $100 compensation. They told me that I would only be unconscious for 5 minutes. They said I would gain the experience of a full lifetime and that I would become a better person for it. They said it would solve all of my problems and that I wouldn't be depressed anymore after I woke up. I figured I had nothing to lose, my life felt empty and meaningless and $100 was a lot of money to a broke 24 year old.
That was 80 years ago. My life had started over. I had new parents and new name, but I have always been aware of my previous life, of the world before. I was not always able to comprehend my previous life, however. It was around the age of six when I began to recognize that I was in a dream world. Memories from before started to flood my mind. I cried almost every day because I knew I was trapped in this lucid dream of mine and that I was really just a depressed 24 year old.
That's when they started taking me to doctors. They started diagnosing me with this and that and everything in between. They put me in special school programs because they recognized my intelligence but mistook my previous life as mental illness. It didn't get better from there. I used to stay up late at night, begging the doctors from before to wake me up, to return me to what I was. I felt so lonely in this dream world of mine, despite being surrounded by loving parents and a wonderful brother and sister. I often dreamed of the world before. I could see the faces of the people that I once recognized as my parents. I could see my friends playing card games and I could hear my cat meowing. But they said it isn't real. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the world before. But I always woke up in my dream world with tears running down my cheeks.
It was around my 12th birthday that I began to accept my loss. I was stuck in this world and I had no choice. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that I would return to reality at some point if I simply carried on with my phony life. I tried to make the best of it. I could live two whole lives in the time that everybody else lives one, surely that's worth a fortune? Once this life was fulfilled, I could simply pick my old one back up and continue with that. But it wasn't easy. It was never easy.
I lived a very dark and depressed life into my mid-twenties in this dream world. It was even worse than it was in the world before. I was just going through the motions and waiting for the day I could resume my real life. I couldn't accept what the therapists told me, what the doctors all said. I began contemplating suicide in hopes of ending this nightmare early and finding the world before. This world wasn't real and it would never matter.
That is, until I met her.
She came onto my life from nowhere. I was a lost and hopeless soul wandering the darkness suddenly illuminated by a blinding beacon of light. My life suddenly became so bright that I forgot all about the world before. I guess love will do that to you, but she stole my troubles away and left me with reason to go on with this lucid reality. The nightmares stopped and I began waking up with a smile on my face. When I closed my eyes, I saw only her beautiful face smiling back at me. I'd get lost in her big brown eyes and suddenly this world became more real than anything I ever knew.
I had never known love before. Not in this world and not in the world before. My love for her overthrew everything that I understood to be real. Why would I want to go back to a world where love didn't exist for me? For all I cared, this was the real world and the world before was just a sad delusion and I even began to believe that. We got married when I was 26. We had two beautiful children. Life made sense and I didn't want anything to change.
I stopped seeing the doctors. I stopped taking their drugs. I didn't need anything to keep me sane except for her. She held my world in her eyes and when I gazed into them, I saw true happiness. I saw it the first time we kissed. As she slowly pulled her head back, I opened my eyes and my world was absorbed into her big, beautiful brown eyes. They were like a portal to another reality. I found the real world, and it **wasn't** the world before.
It feels like yesterday that we were celebrating our 50th anniversary. I still remember hugging my grandchildren and telling them stories of their grandmother when we were younger. All the places we went together and all the things we did. I wouldn't change any of it. But now that's all over. She succumbed to the cancer after a valiant 4 year struggle. I kissed her one last time. I gazed deep into those beautiful brown eyes of hers and told her I loved her. A single tear streamed down her cheek as her breathing ceased.
And just like that, it was over. The darkness came flooding back as my beacon had burned out. It hit me like an asteroid impacting the moon. Nothing matters anymore. This life has returned to being a lie. I sit here at my desk writing this, knowing that there's only one thing I can do. I have to end it. There's nothing left here for me. To my kids and grandchildren, please forgive me. If you still exist tomorrow, then the doctors were surely correct all along and I really am crazy. Just know that I love you all.
*With love, Arthur Philips*
Arthur closed his laptop and turned to the loaded rifle he had leaning against his desk and let out a deep sigh. This was it, it was finally happening. He stood up and looked around his office, decorated with pictures of his family. He looked at each individual photo with a smile. His children, his grandchildren, his parents. His brother and sister and nieces and nephews. It was a good life, but the world before was overtaking him. As he got to the last photo, a photo of his wife in a golden frame on his desk, his eyes began to tear up.
"I'm sorry, my beacon of light." he muttered to himself as he picked up the rifle. "I know you wouldn't want it to end like this, but that world before awaits me. I must do this. I will always love you. I will always remember your big, beautiful brown eyes."
"James?" a sudden voice rang out. James opened his eyes and saw a familiar face. "Don't make any sudden movement James, you'll be groggy for a few minutes as the drug wears off. We had to pull you out of it early, one of the other patients awoke just before you and it seems there's an unforeseen side effect. The year is 2014, you're in Mulberry Labs, and you were out for just over four minutes. Please take a moment to collect yourself and you may sit up when you feel you're ready."
The face was that of the doctor who had given him the injection moments ago. The bright florescent lights beamed into his eyes as he struggled to comprehend his surroundings. James felt unusual, like he had just turned back the clock. He felt like he was a kid again.
"2014?" James managed to ask as he slowly began to sit up.
"That's right. I'm sure you're very confused right now. Please remain calm and let yourself gather your thoughts. I'll be back to check on you in a minute after I'm done helping Susan."
James looked around the room and it suddenly clicked. The world before! Arthur really wasn't crazy! Everything Arthur knew and loved had ceased to exist, but the world James knew had returned. His heart rate rose as he realized what it meant. His hands began shaking and his eyes began to fill with tears.
"That's a h-hell of a drug you've got there doc." His voice trembled as he spoke. But it was just the way he remembered it, 80 years and he still remembered the lab where it all began. It was a medium sized room with 3 examination tables on either side. Everything was so white and sterile, just like a doctor's office. There was only two people in the room aside from James. The familiar doctor and another patient, Susan, who James hadn't met before. James turned his body towards the examination table next to him where Susan and the doctor were and let his legs dangle off.
"Alright, I'm going to go get your paperwork in order, Susan, and then I'll be right back to help you, James." the doctor said as she walked towards a desk on the far end of the room.
"I guess we're the first people to ever get to get a second go at life" Susan said with relief in her voice and a big smile on her face. "And I think I know exactly what I want to do with it."
"I know what you mean. That drug really has solved all of my problems." James responded as he gazed deep into Susan's big, beautiful, brown eyes.
| **Just after he wakes up**
I slowly came back to myself. Off to one side, I could hear someone ask "How are you feeling, Mr. Lewis?"
"Fine. A little sleepy, I guess."
"That's perfectly normal." The doctor walked over to the monitors by his bedside. "Hm. Looks like all your vitals are steady, but we'll just keep you under observation for a few hours. Let us know if you start to feel ill."
"I will. Thanks, doc." I leaned back against the elevated pillow, and settled in for a nap. Then everything came back.
*The coffee farm in Jamaica.
All the friends that I made at school.
Julia.
Moving to the States at 16, knowing that I'd never see her again.
Early admission to Columbia.
Dropping out after a year.
Moving out to San Francisco.
Finishing my degree at Stanford.
Starting a band.
Quitting a band.
Starting another.
A few years of unsatisfying fame.
Moving back to New York.
Getting a job at the Village Voice.
Seeing Julia for the first time in 15 years.
Marrying Julia.
Our first, then second then third then fourth kid.
Moving from Manhattan to Brooklyn to Queens, then out to Long Island.
Being able to work from home for the first time.
Gaining the respect of my peers.
Moving to the Times.
Raising good, kind, healthy kids.
Moving back to California, and settling in the Bay Area.
Retirement.
Going right back to work for the Chronicle.
Seeing my kids get married and have children of their own.
The cancer diagnosis. Six months, they said.
Dying in my sleep with Julia by my side after two.*
It all came back in a flood. All the things that happened, but didn't really happen. All of the friends I met, the places I visited, the once-in-a-lifetime experiences. Julia. Oh god, Julia. How could I miss someone so much if I've never met her? It started as a sniffle, but within seconds I was close to bawling. I wrapped the pillow against my face, and cried for what felt like hours. Cried for everything that never happened. |
|
That's all I'm giving you to go on. Use your imagination. | [WP] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth. | It was easy, to be honest. At first, resistance was fierce. You fashioned crude blades out of whatever you could find. You hacked us from your bones systematically, until we lay in bloody shreds at your feet. We could do very little. For, if we are to exist, we exist only as an attachment. We are passengers, and you poor retches, are our vessel.
Conflict raged on. We became nothing more than a mild inconvenience to you. Somthing to complain to your buddies about. "Aw shit.. I think I have some skin building up back there." I'm paraphrasing of course, to match the colloquialism of your present day. We were dieing. We had no choice.
Our best and brightest were put to the task. And as I said, it was easy. There was no hope for us to simply live off you, as a "parasite", as you say.
We used your own goddamn minds against you. We engineered a new strain of our species. Biologically identical, yet physically different. We unleashed it upon you and your sweet, sweet innocence. As you split into black and white, you came undone. We were forgotten. All you could think of were the atrocities needed to stop this different plague developing. And before you realised, it was too late. We are you and you are us.
We will live, and die, as one. Black and white. Dust in the wind.
Edit: Grammar. | [I'm thiiiirstyyyyy]
Michael jolted awake. His lips were bleeding again. He shook away the feeling that someone was in the room with him. He knew there wasnt; a priest came by upon his request a few weeks ago to check.
Whilst pouring himself another cup of water, he noticed something new. His hands, they were scaly. He checked the time, "7:48am, I wonder if Sarah is awake yet", he thought to himself.
He went over to his neighbors house and borrowed some hand lotion. He got back to his bed and sat down with another cup of water, while reading the instructions on the bottle.
"Apply 3 times a day for maximum effectiveness. Do not ingest."
He opened the cap and squeezed. The white liquid oozed out, and he coated his hands with it.
[Thank youuu]
"What the fuck?" Michael exclaimed, "Who the fuck was that!"
[Shit.]
A sudden flash of white, and Michael was looking in a mirror. Wait no, not a mirror. He was looking at.. Himself?
[Damn it all. I just lost 50 kräges to fłqrge. But it's not like it my fault this skeleton didn't know how to take care of me. Damnit damnit damnit.]
Michael looked down at his hands. No, at his.. "Fuck. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!". Michael ran to the mirror, caught offguard on how light he felt, and crashed into the cupboard. He scrambled to his feet and his heart, no, his.. Empty chest stopped beating.
There in the mirror, looking back at him was a skeleton.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME! GIVE IT, i mean, GIVE ME BACK!"
[shut up, inferior being.]
"ANSWER ME!"
[fine, settle down.]
The Being started to pull out objects from thin air, and an image was projected on the wall.
[Aeons ago, my planet was destroyed. Nobody trusted each other, and we wanted too much. So imagine that, "splat" and the jêxgùe, what you call the Government, was destroyed. Slowly, everything else was brought down, and me, along with a bunch of like-minded people, went searching for another planet to start anew]
A familiar green egg-sized thing was now in the Being's hands. Michael couldn't remember where he saw it from though.
[We came by your planet, and what we saw disgusted us. Peaceful, loving, creatures. So we decided to have an experiment; we introduced a variation. We bonded ourselves to your kind, and messed with your memories a bit. And guess what?]
[You shallow idiots only loved those that look like you.]
The green egg has now started glowing, and Michael struggled to keep focus.
[Skeletons that look alike? "No problem!" Different coloured skins? "No, problem!"]
[The destruction that followed was hilarious and we would leave, if it wasn't so fun. We figured, if we fłxqüAns can't live on our planet, no one can. But don't worry, little Michael, about how to stop this. Don't worry at all.]
The green egg released a gas and all Michael could remember was how thirsty he was. |
That's all I'm giving you to go on. Use your imagination. | [WP] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth. | Imagine two skelebros just reclining in chairs, and then they see the first line of skin parasites fall from the sky.
Left one shouts, "oh shit!" And jumps to his feet.
The right one said, "we gotta scare 'em off. You know how we need to do that."
"Aw yeh."
Then they both break into a spooky scary skeleton dance, with bone switching and other spoopy stuff, but the parasites are unfazed.
"Why isn't our spooky dance working bro?!"
"They must be soulless monsters--aAAAAAAAGGH!"
"BROOO!"
He sheds a tear as the skin strangles the bones, and he says, "SKELEBROS FOREVER!" | [I'm thiiiirstyyyyy]
Michael jolted awake. His lips were bleeding again. He shook away the feeling that someone was in the room with him. He knew there wasnt; a priest came by upon his request a few weeks ago to check.
Whilst pouring himself another cup of water, he noticed something new. His hands, they were scaly. He checked the time, "7:48am, I wonder if Sarah is awake yet", he thought to himself.
He went over to his neighbors house and borrowed some hand lotion. He got back to his bed and sat down with another cup of water, while reading the instructions on the bottle.
"Apply 3 times a day for maximum effectiveness. Do not ingest."
He opened the cap and squeezed. The white liquid oozed out, and he coated his hands with it.
[Thank youuu]
"What the fuck?" Michael exclaimed, "Who the fuck was that!"
[Shit.]
A sudden flash of white, and Michael was looking in a mirror. Wait no, not a mirror. He was looking at.. Himself?
[Damn it all. I just lost 50 kräges to fłqrge. But it's not like it my fault this skeleton didn't know how to take care of me. Damnit damnit damnit.]
Michael looked down at his hands. No, at his.. "Fuck. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!". Michael ran to the mirror, caught offguard on how light he felt, and crashed into the cupboard. He scrambled to his feet and his heart, no, his.. Empty chest stopped beating.
There in the mirror, looking back at him was a skeleton.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME! GIVE IT, i mean, GIVE ME BACK!"
[shut up, inferior being.]
"ANSWER ME!"
[fine, settle down.]
The Being started to pull out objects from thin air, and an image was projected on the wall.
[Aeons ago, my planet was destroyed. Nobody trusted each other, and we wanted too much. So imagine that, "splat" and the jêxgùe, what you call the Government, was destroyed. Slowly, everything else was brought down, and me, along with a bunch of like-minded people, went searching for another planet to start anew]
A familiar green egg-sized thing was now in the Being's hands. Michael couldn't remember where he saw it from though.
[We came by your planet, and what we saw disgusted us. Peaceful, loving, creatures. So we decided to have an experiment; we introduced a variation. We bonded ourselves to your kind, and messed with your memories a bit. And guess what?]
[You shallow idiots only loved those that look like you.]
The green egg has now started glowing, and Michael struggled to keep focus.
[Skeletons that look alike? "No problem!" Different coloured skins? "No, problem!"]
[The destruction that followed was hilarious and we would leave, if it wasn't so fun. We figured, if we fłxqüAns can't live on our planet, no one can. But don't worry, little Michael, about how to stop this. Don't worry at all.]
The green egg released a gas and all Michael could remember was how thirsty he was. |
That's all I'm giving you to go on. Use your imagination. | [WP] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth. | "Ah-hah!"
Everybody jumped. It wasn't what many would call a common occurrence to see a slightly disheveled man staring angrily at the exposed skin of his upper thighs in the middle of the street.
"You can no longer deceive me! For so long have your spiteful plans fooled me, but no more!"
Some coughs. A few barely disguised snickers. Not all that surprising, really; during his latest outburst, the maladjusted man had taken to furiously jabbing his finger at his forlorn flesh, as if to emphasise his speech. Unfortunately, this did not make the man's skin fly off in shame.
Upon hearing the snickering, the man's neck snapped up at a slightly disquieting speed, culminating in a slightly disturbing form of eye contact with the youth who had been quietly laughing at the spectacle. Now, normally some friendly eye contact in the crowded streets of London would be met with joyous elation and maybe a hug or two, it lost rather a large amount of charm when one participant of the hitherto-unannounced staring match lacked eyes, instead gazing with his bony sockets.
In the blink of an eye, he crossed the gap between them.
"Skin Man! I can see through your plan - with my skeleton eyes! Release this poor youth, or I shall be forced to remove you with my calcium strength!"
As of now, the teenager looked rather startled, eyes comically wide. A few whispers broke amongst the crowd - Down Syndrome? Insanity? A bird or plane? One concerned citizen seemed to be dialling the police.
However, when the teen's skin was forcibly torn off, the man was quickly tackled to the ground by a few astute characters amidst the ensuing screams of absolute terror. Upon arrest, the enigmatic man was quickly sentenced to indefinite detention within a mental institution, where he spent the rest of his days alternating between screaming of a villain in disguise and wondering how he got there.
Elsewhere, in a darkened room wallpapered with bank notes, Skin Man smirked. Skeleton Man had been the last bastion of hope for the skeleton race, having been able to briefly resist the power of his mind control skin. No more! The fleshy fighter was victorious! He began to cackle cruelly, content in the knowledge that he had won not just the battle, but the war...
...by the skin of his teeth.
| [I'm thiiiirstyyyyy]
Michael jolted awake. His lips were bleeding again. He shook away the feeling that someone was in the room with him. He knew there wasnt; a priest came by upon his request a few weeks ago to check.
Whilst pouring himself another cup of water, he noticed something new. His hands, they were scaly. He checked the time, "7:48am, I wonder if Sarah is awake yet", he thought to himself.
He went over to his neighbors house and borrowed some hand lotion. He got back to his bed and sat down with another cup of water, while reading the instructions on the bottle.
"Apply 3 times a day for maximum effectiveness. Do not ingest."
He opened the cap and squeezed. The white liquid oozed out, and he coated his hands with it.
[Thank youuu]
"What the fuck?" Michael exclaimed, "Who the fuck was that!"
[Shit.]
A sudden flash of white, and Michael was looking in a mirror. Wait no, not a mirror. He was looking at.. Himself?
[Damn it all. I just lost 50 kräges to fłqrge. But it's not like it my fault this skeleton didn't know how to take care of me. Damnit damnit damnit.]
Michael looked down at his hands. No, at his.. "Fuck. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!". Michael ran to the mirror, caught offguard on how light he felt, and crashed into the cupboard. He scrambled to his feet and his heart, no, his.. Empty chest stopped beating.
There in the mirror, looking back at him was a skeleton.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME! GIVE IT, i mean, GIVE ME BACK!"
[shut up, inferior being.]
"ANSWER ME!"
[fine, settle down.]
The Being started to pull out objects from thin air, and an image was projected on the wall.
[Aeons ago, my planet was destroyed. Nobody trusted each other, and we wanted too much. So imagine that, "splat" and the jêxgùe, what you call the Government, was destroyed. Slowly, everything else was brought down, and me, along with a bunch of like-minded people, went searching for another planet to start anew]
A familiar green egg-sized thing was now in the Being's hands. Michael couldn't remember where he saw it from though.
[We came by your planet, and what we saw disgusted us. Peaceful, loving, creatures. So we decided to have an experiment; we introduced a variation. We bonded ourselves to your kind, and messed with your memories a bit. And guess what?]
[You shallow idiots only loved those that look like you.]
The green egg has now started glowing, and Michael struggled to keep focus.
[Skeletons that look alike? "No problem!" Different coloured skins? "No, problem!"]
[The destruction that followed was hilarious and we would leave, if it wasn't so fun. We figured, if we fłxqüAns can't live on our planet, no one can. But don't worry, little Michael, about how to stop this. Don't worry at all.]
The green egg released a gas and all Michael could remember was how thirsty he was. |
That's all I'm giving you to go on. Use your imagination. | [WP] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth. | "You don't have to go in there if you don't want Jones."
"I can handle it boss, trust me."
"Listen Jones, it's barely been a month since you moved up from the desk. We can make you first one something easy, a regular homicide. Not this-"
Jones walks through the front door, leaving detective Morrison standing outside holding a book recovered from the house. Morrison thumbed through the leather-bound pages, scanning each one one schizoid patterns, spiraling from one to the next. His fingers ran over the uneven creases of the book's cover, feeling out each crease.
"Hand bound," he mumbles and closes it. The color in his face is drained and his worn eyes struggle to support the bags lurking below them.
Jones stumbles out, staring through Morrison who looks down and shakes his head.
"The scars?"
"Self inflicted. Cigarettes and knives mainly, but the deep ones are old. A accident maybe."
"His whole body?"
"There's too much blood to tell, but the coroner will know more if forensics finds all the pieces."
"Why?"
"Do you actually want to know?"
"No."
Jones reaches for the book anyway. Morrison stares at the ground while Jones reads.
- - -
***August 1.***
*I finally understand it after all these years. I'm one of the lucky ones, maybe father knew when he spilled the oil. His bones certainly did. We're prisoners, trapped and consumed by our own cages-cum-coffins.*
*It's not just the skin though, but the meat. Sinew and fat which devours and consumes us. Even the brain is a construct.*
***September 27***
*It's still awake, just sedated, slowed to almost-a-crawl. The pain helps, although with each assault it grows stronger, reforming into wicked keloids, as if to lock itself shut.*
*Initial research has shown that it's the brain that's in control, although the skin and ligaments act as fetters and are just as important to destroy. Although it attempts to deceive with "nervous" responses, I know better. A kitchen knife was enough for the finger.*
***October 5***
*For the past week I've felt unerring freedom, even as it retakes control. The bones think without the stimuli of a meaty-nervous system. They instead resonate, all in harmony. It's beautiful to hear really, even with senses that are alien to my true self.*
*If this is what one finger can do, imagine the whole body.*
***October 6***
*It's fighting back. I've had to forfeit the finger, as the parasite's blackness had taken it to fester and rot.*
*I can hardly imagine how long they've taken hold, although the means of oppression are apparent. Burials and cremations. Meant to keep the freed host from thriving.*
*I must be quick.*
***October 7***
*I've made the first cut.*
*The rest will be easy.*
- - -
"What do we do?" Jones asks, shutting the book.
"Burn it, Jones. Burn it all." | [I'm thiiiirstyyyyy]
Michael jolted awake. His lips were bleeding again. He shook away the feeling that someone was in the room with him. He knew there wasnt; a priest came by upon his request a few weeks ago to check.
Whilst pouring himself another cup of water, he noticed something new. His hands, they were scaly. He checked the time, "7:48am, I wonder if Sarah is awake yet", he thought to himself.
He went over to his neighbors house and borrowed some hand lotion. He got back to his bed and sat down with another cup of water, while reading the instructions on the bottle.
"Apply 3 times a day for maximum effectiveness. Do not ingest."
He opened the cap and squeezed. The white liquid oozed out, and he coated his hands with it.
[Thank youuu]
"What the fuck?" Michael exclaimed, "Who the fuck was that!"
[Shit.]
A sudden flash of white, and Michael was looking in a mirror. Wait no, not a mirror. He was looking at.. Himself?
[Damn it all. I just lost 50 kräges to fłqrge. But it's not like it my fault this skeleton didn't know how to take care of me. Damnit damnit damnit.]
Michael looked down at his hands. No, at his.. "Fuck. WHAT DID YOU DO TO ME!". Michael ran to the mirror, caught offguard on how light he felt, and crashed into the cupboard. He scrambled to his feet and his heart, no, his.. Empty chest stopped beating.
There in the mirror, looking back at him was a skeleton.
"WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME! GIVE IT, i mean, GIVE ME BACK!"
[shut up, inferior being.]
"ANSWER ME!"
[fine, settle down.]
The Being started to pull out objects from thin air, and an image was projected on the wall.
[Aeons ago, my planet was destroyed. Nobody trusted each other, and we wanted too much. So imagine that, "splat" and the jêxgùe, what you call the Government, was destroyed. Slowly, everything else was brought down, and me, along with a bunch of like-minded people, went searching for another planet to start anew]
A familiar green egg-sized thing was now in the Being's hands. Michael couldn't remember where he saw it from though.
[We came by your planet, and what we saw disgusted us. Peaceful, loving, creatures. So we decided to have an experiment; we introduced a variation. We bonded ourselves to your kind, and messed with your memories a bit. And guess what?]
[You shallow idiots only loved those that look like you.]
The green egg has now started glowing, and Michael struggled to keep focus.
[Skeletons that look alike? "No problem!" Different coloured skins? "No, problem!"]
[The destruction that followed was hilarious and we would leave, if it wasn't so fun. We figured, if we fłxqüAns can't live on our planet, no one can. But don't worry, little Michael, about how to stop this. Don't worry at all.]
The green egg released a gas and all Michael could remember was how thirsty he was. |
That's all I'm giving you to go on. Use your imagination. | [WP] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth. | "Ah-hah!"
Everybody jumped. It wasn't what many would call a common occurrence to see a slightly disheveled man staring angrily at the exposed skin of his upper thighs in the middle of the street.
"You can no longer deceive me! For so long have your spiteful plans fooled me, but no more!"
Some coughs. A few barely disguised snickers. Not all that surprising, really; during his latest outburst, the maladjusted man had taken to furiously jabbing his finger at his forlorn flesh, as if to emphasise his speech. Unfortunately, this did not make the man's skin fly off in shame.
Upon hearing the snickering, the man's neck snapped up at a slightly disquieting speed, culminating in a slightly disturbing form of eye contact with the youth who had been quietly laughing at the spectacle. Now, normally some friendly eye contact in the crowded streets of London would be met with joyous elation and maybe a hug or two, it lost rather a large amount of charm when one participant of the hitherto-unannounced staring match lacked eyes, instead gazing with his bony sockets.
In the blink of an eye, he crossed the gap between them.
"Skin Man! I can see through your plan - with my skeleton eyes! Release this poor youth, or I shall be forced to remove you with my calcium strength!"
As of now, the teenager looked rather startled, eyes comically wide. A few whispers broke amongst the crowd - Down Syndrome? Insanity? A bird or plane? One concerned citizen seemed to be dialling the police.
However, when the teen's skin was forcibly torn off, the man was quickly tackled to the ground by a few astute characters amidst the ensuing screams of absolute terror. Upon arrest, the enigmatic man was quickly sentenced to indefinite detention within a mental institution, where he spent the rest of his days alternating between screaming of a villain in disguise and wondering how he got there.
Elsewhere, in a darkened room wallpapered with bank notes, Skin Man smirked. Skeleton Man had been the last bastion of hope for the skeleton race, having been able to briefly resist the power of his mind control skin. No more! The fleshy fighter was victorious! He began to cackle cruelly, content in the knowledge that he had won not just the battle, but the war...
...by the skin of his teeth.
| Imagine two skelebros just reclining in chairs, and then they see the first line of skin parasites fall from the sky.
Left one shouts, "oh shit!" And jumps to his feet.
The right one said, "we gotta scare 'em off. You know how we need to do that."
"Aw yeh."
Then they both break into a spooky scary skeleton dance, with bone switching and other spoopy stuff, but the parasites are unfazed.
"Why isn't our spooky dance working bro?!"
"They must be soulless monsters--aAAAAAAAGGH!"
"BROOO!"
He sheds a tear as the skin strangles the bones, and he says, "SKELEBROS FOREVER!" |
That's all I'm giving you to go on. Use your imagination. | [WP] Skin is actually an alien parasite that long ago enslaved the peaceful skeletons of Earth. | "You don't have to go in there if you don't want Jones."
"I can handle it boss, trust me."
"Listen Jones, it's barely been a month since you moved up from the desk. We can make you first one something easy, a regular homicide. Not this-"
Jones walks through the front door, leaving detective Morrison standing outside holding a book recovered from the house. Morrison thumbed through the leather-bound pages, scanning each one one schizoid patterns, spiraling from one to the next. His fingers ran over the uneven creases of the book's cover, feeling out each crease.
"Hand bound," he mumbles and closes it. The color in his face is drained and his worn eyes struggle to support the bags lurking below them.
Jones stumbles out, staring through Morrison who looks down and shakes his head.
"The scars?"
"Self inflicted. Cigarettes and knives mainly, but the deep ones are old. A accident maybe."
"His whole body?"
"There's too much blood to tell, but the coroner will know more if forensics finds all the pieces."
"Why?"
"Do you actually want to know?"
"No."
Jones reaches for the book anyway. Morrison stares at the ground while Jones reads.
- - -
***August 1.***
*I finally understand it after all these years. I'm one of the lucky ones, maybe father knew when he spilled the oil. His bones certainly did. We're prisoners, trapped and consumed by our own cages-cum-coffins.*
*It's not just the skin though, but the meat. Sinew and fat which devours and consumes us. Even the brain is a construct.*
***September 27***
*It's still awake, just sedated, slowed to almost-a-crawl. The pain helps, although with each assault it grows stronger, reforming into wicked keloids, as if to lock itself shut.*
*Initial research has shown that it's the brain that's in control, although the skin and ligaments act as fetters and are just as important to destroy. Although it attempts to deceive with "nervous" responses, I know better. A kitchen knife was enough for the finger.*
***October 5***
*For the past week I've felt unerring freedom, even as it retakes control. The bones think without the stimuli of a meaty-nervous system. They instead resonate, all in harmony. It's beautiful to hear really, even with senses that are alien to my true self.*
*If this is what one finger can do, imagine the whole body.*
***October 6***
*It's fighting back. I've had to forfeit the finger, as the parasite's blackness had taken it to fester and rot.*
*I can hardly imagine how long they've taken hold, although the means of oppression are apparent. Burials and cremations. Meant to keep the freed host from thriving.*
*I must be quick.*
***October 7***
*I've made the first cut.*
*The rest will be easy.*
- - -
"What do we do?" Jones asks, shutting the book.
"Burn it, Jones. Burn it all." | Imagine two skelebros just reclining in chairs, and then they see the first line of skin parasites fall from the sky.
Left one shouts, "oh shit!" And jumps to his feet.
The right one said, "we gotta scare 'em off. You know how we need to do that."
"Aw yeh."
Then they both break into a spooky scary skeleton dance, with bone switching and other spoopy stuff, but the parasites are unfazed.
"Why isn't our spooky dance working bro?!"
"They must be soulless monsters--aAAAAAAAGGH!"
"BROOO!"
He sheds a tear as the skin strangles the bones, and he says, "SKELEBROS FOREVER!" |
Tell me the story of how they died and their last moments. | [WP] God is dead. God died accidentally creating the universe. The Big Bang was it's death. | Why I am still alive and He is dead, I'm sure I will never know now.
It took us a long time to realise we had the power to do anything. We simply existed. When He moved for the first time, and he let go of my hand and grabbed my shoulder, I felt fear and excitement; the first emotions I had ever felt before. He inspired in me the belief that things were possible; that things that simply existed could be so much more. I felt no different to anything else around us. Not that I knew what we had around us then; light was something I could have never even imagined by myself.
He made these tiny single celled organisms, and planted them around him. If they survive this, He said; they will survive anything. He created light from his mind, a simple flame that lit up His entire being. He studied the effects of what organisms needed to survive - energy seemed to be the main one. Without a light source, any life would perish.
His plan was beautiful - when creating the universe, I'm pretty sure he knew he would die. He became very peaceful and serene, very final in his answers. He said to me; there shall be but one rule. Energy cannot be destroyed, it can only be transferred, and with this rule, there is hope of something far more beautiful than either of us can imagine. I have existed in this realm for long enough. It is time for me to be the beating heart of man and animal than will eventually come from these tiny, little cells. Mankind must grow, and history given to enrich their journey. All of a sudden, He became white light and I could see the most amazing designs and patterns and destruction and colours and beauty, and he was the energy of it all.
I had hoped that every planet would achieve life, with differences in their patterns designs - but only two ever did. They are so far apart they will never meet each other. By the time the transmissions of earth reach FOGFBV254, it will have been destroyed by a sun that will eat the whole planet whole.
A whole peoples, blissfully unaware that all of them are Him. All of them are God. All of them made in his image, their intelligence and destructiveness always interesting to me.
What a shame it is, that they will never know.
| "Hey guys! Guys! Look at me, guys!"
A collective sigh goes up from the bar.
"What is it this time," one student asks, "Another space-warping snow globe? Because we all know how *that* particular experiment worked out."
"Okay, I know that one was a bit faulty, but I'm pretty sure I've got this handled. All we do is press this big, red, non-threatening butto-" |
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | Memo to all Employees of Brines and Barnum Law Office.
After the Incident on November 12th 2017 in which Senior Partner Kenneth Alvarez was transported from our Los Angeles offices to the deserts of northern Nevada by means of three weather balloons; Brines and Barnum has come to the decision that the following activities are no longer allowed on Brines and Barnum property or when an employee of Brines and Barnum is on duty.
The following activities are no Longer acceptable during business hours.
* lighting interns on fire in a witch hunt.
* playing "Car Fighter" (Bull fighting except with a car).
* "Mary Poppins" the act of jumping from the office with umbrellas.
* "Powered Coffee" the act of putting explosives in the coffee machine.
* "Charlie Kelly" the act of assaulting fellow employees with a "rat stick"
* Poisoning the water cooler with any chemical, pathogen, or animal. Criminal charges will be sought for Ricin, Uranium, Heroin, or Viagra.
* Any action that could be construed as kidnapping (such as attaching weather balloons to a bear trap to carry a fellow employee away) will be penalized and/or criminal charges will be sought.
The actions above include the discretion on the part of Senior Partners in both penalties and further interpretation of unproductive activities.
Signed, Perry Ganz Barnum Esquire. | I was typing up my office reports when it happened. It was 12 AM; I had a seminar tomorrow at 5 AM and I really just wanted to go home and sleep. My coworker Tom was the only other one there. Suddenly, my computer was broken, shattered like a glass vase, and the knife that penetrated it had pierced my skull. Luckily, I had my pistol on me, which saved the stuff on my computer to the cloud. But I was so pissed.
"Take that!" I yelled as the pistol slammed backwards into my shoulder, propelling three bullets into Tom's head. He slumped to the ground, dead. Meanwhile, the knife was still quite painfully embedded in my head. I took out my pistol and shot myself, knowing full well my respawn point was in bed, at home. I could finally sleep.. |
|
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | The day the respawn point was first sold publicly was awkward to say the least. Humanities innate desire to skip the manual and jump right into the fun cost countless of people their lives that day. Months of apprehensiveness followed where nobody would risk trying the product for themselves. Of course, this made bug testing somewhat more difficult, which in turn extended people's suspicion.
A number of lawsuits were filled against the designers and engineers of the product. Most of which they lost. The company collapsed and the two project leads were sentenced to life in prison - responsible for over ten thousand cases of manslaughter. But within the first week of their sentence their cold bodies were found, flat, under the shadow of a watch tower.
A mountain of reports out of reliable sources surfaced that the two had set up their own respawn points prior to their incarceration. The controversy was introduced when they were never seen again. Some believed they booked it with money believed to be stored in some underground banks. But others believed they actually died and became victims of their own genius, or rather, their sloppy bug fixing. Whatever the case may be, one hundred years later, the duo became the the idols of a generation.
*Classic*, thought Dan, *the dumpster.* It seemed his coworkers misplaced his point once again. And while Dan usually enjoyed the daily office murder, he did not enjoy ruining his suit. *Hey, is that my morning tuna casserole on my pants?*
When he arrived back at the forty fifth floor he feigned a smile and congratulations to the assailants of his most recent departure from life. They smiled and high fived each other while Dan constructed his plans for revenge.
Dan's lunch came at around 1:30. He invited Harvey, the *mastermind* behind the dumpster dive. They decided to go to a local mexican food restaurant just across the freeway.
All the way there Harvey describe "play-by-play", how they went about "getting him good." He told him some new things that he had not been aware of. That morning they snuck into his house while he was taking a shower and stole his point from his bed. When they arrived at work the dumped it into the dumpster and went on their way. The rest Dan already knew. Harvey convinced Dan to take a smoke break on the roof. When Dan was just next to the ledge Harvey kicked him off straight down into the dumpster.
When they arrived at the restaurant Harvey asked why Dan was taking his suitcase inside.
"If you can steal my point from my house, somebody could steal my suitcase from my car," replied Dan.
The food was ok. The waitress,Lila, was beautiful. Harvey could not take his eyes off her the entire time. Dan was a regular at the restaurant and knew that Lila would be here today. When he introduced Harvey to her, he made sure to champion him. It seemed to work as Harvey and Lila hit it off. Dan's plan was going perfectly.
"Their bean burritos are fantastic, Harvey" said Dan. Harvey went with Dan's suggestion, though he was not really paying attention to him.
The rest of lunch went fantastic. Harvey engulfed the burrito and continued to flirt with Lila. Dan had to drag Harvey out in order to get back to work on time.
*Now we wait,* Dan thought as he sat down at his desk, missing his briefcase.
At 3:30pm the perfect opportunity arose. Harvey shot up from his desk with his hand on his stomach. He dashed to the mens room and slammed the door. *Bean Burrito not sitting well?* Dangave it two minutes before he followed him in to ask him that very question.
"Fuck no," Harvey grunted. *Nows the time.* Dan dived under the stall and onto his feet. "What the hell dude! I'm taking a shit." Dan grabbed Harveys belt from his ankles, wrapped it around his neck, and pulled, all the while laughing manically.
They struggled for about thirty seconds before Harvey started to loss energy. Dan had chocked enough people to death to know he was about to pass. Through his laughter he managed to say, "Say hi to Lila for me."
| I was typing up my office reports when it happened. It was 12 AM; I had a seminar tomorrow at 5 AM and I really just wanted to go home and sleep. My coworker Tom was the only other one there. Suddenly, my computer was broken, shattered like a glass vase, and the knife that penetrated it had pierced my skull. Luckily, I had my pistol on me, which saved the stuff on my computer to the cloud. But I was so pissed.
"Take that!" I yelled as the pistol slammed backwards into my shoulder, propelling three bullets into Tom's head. He slumped to the ground, dead. Meanwhile, the knife was still quite painfully embedded in my head. I took out my pistol and shot myself, knowing full well my respawn point was in bed, at home. I could finally sleep.. |
|
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | *Left side clear.*
*Nothing on the right.*
I crept silently from my office, TPS reports in hand.
*No trip wires in the hallway.*
Last week I had set off a shotgun, pieces of my brain were still stuck to the wall. Maintenance quit after having to deal with all of the clean up.
I made it to the copy machine and opened the scanner. A pin was dangling from a string taped to the inside of the lid.
*Shit*
| I was typing up my office reports when it happened. It was 12 AM; I had a seminar tomorrow at 5 AM and I really just wanted to go home and sleep. My coworker Tom was the only other one there. Suddenly, my computer was broken, shattered like a glass vase, and the knife that penetrated it had pierced my skull. Luckily, I had my pistol on me, which saved the stuff on my computer to the cloud. But I was so pissed.
"Take that!" I yelled as the pistol slammed backwards into my shoulder, propelling three bullets into Tom's head. He slumped to the ground, dead. Meanwhile, the knife was still quite painfully embedded in my head. I took out my pistol and shot myself, knowing full well my respawn point was in bed, at home. I could finally sleep.. |
|
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | Memo to all Employees of Brines and Barnum Law Office.
After the Incident on November 12th 2017 in which Senior Partner Kenneth Alvarez was transported from our Los Angeles offices to the deserts of northern Nevada by means of three weather balloons; Brines and Barnum has come to the decision that the following activities are no longer allowed on Brines and Barnum property or when an employee of Brines and Barnum is on duty.
The following activities are no Longer acceptable during business hours.
* lighting interns on fire in a witch hunt.
* playing "Car Fighter" (Bull fighting except with a car).
* "Mary Poppins" the act of jumping from the office with umbrellas.
* "Powered Coffee" the act of putting explosives in the coffee machine.
* "Charlie Kelly" the act of assaulting fellow employees with a "rat stick"
* Poisoning the water cooler with any chemical, pathogen, or animal. Criminal charges will be sought for Ricin, Uranium, Heroin, or Viagra.
* Any action that could be construed as kidnapping (such as attaching weather balloons to a bear trap to carry a fellow employee away) will be penalized and/or criminal charges will be sought.
The actions above include the discretion on the part of Senior Partners in both penalties and further interpretation of unproductive activities.
Signed, Perry Ganz Barnum Esquire. | I was sitting in my grey, 4x4 cubicle like any other day. The drowning noise of printers, the beeping telephones going off, Cheryl, the secretary, talking about her new boyfriend…Every day was blending into each other. This monotonous drone went on and on until this new guy gets hired. That new guy’s name just happened to be Dave. I’m Dave except new Dave was fun, energetic, and everyone called him ‘Fun Dave’. Fuck Fun Dave. What did everyone start calling me? You guessed it…’Boring Dave’.
On one droll of a day like any other I walk into my cubicle after lunch and notice all my stuff is gone. Computer, keyboard, mouse, pen holder, pencils, stapler, tape…all gone. Snickering from surrounding cubicles is now entering my ears. “Fuck this place”, I mumble under my breath. Out of nowhere, Fun Dave comes up, slaps me on the shoulder, “Sup Dave! Oh…your stuff…it…it seems to be missing.” He laughs and walks away. Fuck that guy.
This goes on and on for a few weeks. Fun Dave stops being so fun. Everyone starts becoming tired of his shit. Constant pranks on practically everybody. The only person he has left to prank is the big man himself, the Boss. Quick background on the Boss, he’s a fanatic. Some would call him an absolute mad man. Constantly doped out on amphetamines. Zoned into his charts like no other. Some say he doesn’t sleep, doesn’t eat. No one ever got in his way, at least no one I ever saw around. He’s one of those guys who looks like he could eat you up and spit you out without putting in any effort at all. I’ve only said thirty words to the guy after working in this hell hole for 2 years. But I digress.
…
Cheryl’s screaming at the top of her lungs. A shriek like no other. Ten heads pop their heads up from the cubicles. What the fuck is going on…Immediately everyone rushes over. There’s blood all over the walls. Bits of brain and blood just everywhere. Boss is standing there, .357 to boot. Fun Dave pranked the wrong motherfucker. No one has any idea what the hell is going on anymore. He actually shot him. Over some harmless prank. Who would have thought this guy would have killed someone over a prank. Then we hear it, “What happened guys?” Fun Dave says, head popping up from his cubicle.
Fuck.
Edit: some words here and there. Never wrote a prompt before.
|
|
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | The day the respawn point was first sold publicly was awkward to say the least. Humanities innate desire to skip the manual and jump right into the fun cost countless of people their lives that day. Months of apprehensiveness followed where nobody would risk trying the product for themselves. Of course, this made bug testing somewhat more difficult, which in turn extended people's suspicion.
A number of lawsuits were filled against the designers and engineers of the product. Most of which they lost. The company collapsed and the two project leads were sentenced to life in prison - responsible for over ten thousand cases of manslaughter. But within the first week of their sentence their cold bodies were found, flat, under the shadow of a watch tower.
A mountain of reports out of reliable sources surfaced that the two had set up their own respawn points prior to their incarceration. The controversy was introduced when they were never seen again. Some believed they booked it with money believed to be stored in some underground banks. But others believed they actually died and became victims of their own genius, or rather, their sloppy bug fixing. Whatever the case may be, one hundred years later, the duo became the the idols of a generation.
*Classic*, thought Dan, *the dumpster.* It seemed his coworkers misplaced his point once again. And while Dan usually enjoyed the daily office murder, he did not enjoy ruining his suit. *Hey, is that my morning tuna casserole on my pants?*
When he arrived back at the forty fifth floor he feigned a smile and congratulations to the assailants of his most recent departure from life. They smiled and high fived each other while Dan constructed his plans for revenge.
Dan's lunch came at around 1:30. He invited Harvey, the *mastermind* behind the dumpster dive. They decided to go to a local mexican food restaurant just across the freeway.
All the way there Harvey describe "play-by-play", how they went about "getting him good." He told him some new things that he had not been aware of. That morning they snuck into his house while he was taking a shower and stole his point from his bed. When they arrived at work the dumped it into the dumpster and went on their way. The rest Dan already knew. Harvey convinced Dan to take a smoke break on the roof. When Dan was just next to the ledge Harvey kicked him off straight down into the dumpster.
When they arrived at the restaurant Harvey asked why Dan was taking his suitcase inside.
"If you can steal my point from my house, somebody could steal my suitcase from my car," replied Dan.
The food was ok. The waitress,Lila, was beautiful. Harvey could not take his eyes off her the entire time. Dan was a regular at the restaurant and knew that Lila would be here today. When he introduced Harvey to her, he made sure to champion him. It seemed to work as Harvey and Lila hit it off. Dan's plan was going perfectly.
"Their bean burritos are fantastic, Harvey" said Dan. Harvey went with Dan's suggestion, though he was not really paying attention to him.
The rest of lunch went fantastic. Harvey engulfed the burrito and continued to flirt with Lila. Dan had to drag Harvey out in order to get back to work on time.
*Now we wait,* Dan thought as he sat down at his desk, missing his briefcase.
At 3:30pm the perfect opportunity arose. Harvey shot up from his desk with his hand on his stomach. He dashed to the mens room and slammed the door. *Bean Burrito not sitting well?* Dangave it two minutes before he followed him in to ask him that very question.
"Fuck no," Harvey grunted. *Nows the time.* Dan dived under the stall and onto his feet. "What the hell dude! I'm taking a shit." Dan grabbed Harveys belt from his ankles, wrapped it around his neck, and pulled, all the while laughing manically.
They struggled for about thirty seconds before Harvey started to loss energy. Dan had chocked enough people to death to know he was about to pass. Through his laughter he managed to say, "Say hi to Lila for me."
| "Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats where Ebin came in. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
We unconsously edged backwards, eyes locked and unblinking, but there really wasn't much to see. It was just a big metal box, same as yesterday, the same as all the days before that, except now there was a pleading, screaming voice coming out of it. A disconnect from reality washed over me. For a second I thought, it must be a bad dream, there's no way I would put some dumb kid in the compactor. This cannot be real.
Except, it was.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
Jake doubled over and threw up on his own feet. I just stood there, staring at the compactor.
After a while he caught his breath, and looked up at me.
"Greg?....."
"Yeah...."
"I'm pretty sure we're going to hell for that."
"Yeah.......I really though it would be funnier"
......................................................................end........................................................
OR
"Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats when our boss Steve hired Ebin. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
We stood watching the monolithic machine, as it settled into the crush cycle, making creaking, popping and pinging noises, like a submarine submerging.
"Greg?"
"Yeah?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Nah, it felt great."
"Drinking a bottle of lye felt good?"
"Well, I didn't really drink a bottle of lye."
"Wait, we all saw you come out of the re-spawn."
"It was more of a stroke and choke thing gone wrong......... I always wanted to try it, figured now that we have the re-spawn, perfect time. Drinking lye sounded way cooler than auto-erotic asphyxiation."
"Makes sense, in a Greg sort of way. Soooo Ebin?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, but I'd bet it hurt like a bastard."
.......................................................................End.........................................................................
edited, spelling, grammar and endings.
What do you think? Ending one or two?
|
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[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | *Left side clear.*
*Nothing on the right.*
I crept silently from my office, TPS reports in hand.
*No trip wires in the hallway.*
Last week I had set off a shotgun, pieces of my brain were still stuck to the wall. Maintenance quit after having to deal with all of the clean up.
I made it to the copy machine and opened the scanner. A pin was dangling from a string taped to the inside of the lid.
*Shit*
| "Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats where Ebin came in. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
We unconsously edged backwards, eyes locked and unblinking, but there really wasn't much to see. It was just a big metal box, same as yesterday, the same as all the days before that, except now there was a pleading, screaming voice coming out of it. A disconnect from reality washed over me. For a second I thought, it must be a bad dream, there's no way I would put some dumb kid in the compactor. This cannot be real.
Except, it was.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
Jake doubled over and threw up on his own feet. I just stood there, staring at the compactor.
After a while he caught his breath, and looked up at me.
"Greg?....."
"Yeah...."
"I'm pretty sure we're going to hell for that."
"Yeah.......I really though it would be funnier"
......................................................................end........................................................
OR
"Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats when our boss Steve hired Ebin. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
We stood watching the monolithic machine, as it settled into the crush cycle, making creaking, popping and pinging noises, like a submarine submerging.
"Greg?"
"Yeah?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Nah, it felt great."
"Drinking a bottle of lye felt good?"
"Well, I didn't really drink a bottle of lye."
"Wait, we all saw you come out of the re-spawn."
"It was more of a stroke and choke thing gone wrong......... I always wanted to try it, figured now that we have the re-spawn, perfect time. Drinking lye sounded way cooler than auto-erotic asphyxiation."
"Makes sense, in a Greg sort of way. Soooo Ebin?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, but I'd bet it hurt like a bastard."
.......................................................................End.........................................................................
edited, spelling, grammar and endings.
What do you think? Ending one or two?
|
|
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | Maintenance had thrown a fit the day after it had been installed, and Paul had gotten the brunt of the rage.
"It's a fucking *respawn* point, not a reset button!" Frank, head of the maintenance department, was not a fan of doing more work than he needed to.
"I'm sorry, I know we should have..."
"Waited? Yeah, you better fucking should have! One day! One day until we installed the kill room and you sick little fucks could have wasted each other to your hearts content! But no, you had to paint the whole fucking office red the day we get the damn thing! I had to drag four Toms, three Alices, two Michaels, four Cheryl's, and eight, *EIGHT*, of your own fucking corpses down to the dumpster last night! And that was just in your department! What the fucks were you using? Weapons haven't even arrived!"
"Pens mostly. The occasional piece of furniture. Kevin somehow had a letter opener. And of course Dex had been secretly bringing his Bowie knife everyday because wanted to get the jump on us. That's why there were so many of me. He started it. He thought it would be funny to test the respawn point right after I'd been scanned. And there were more bodies originally. We got tired after carrying down the first couple dozen." Paul responded sheepishly.
"Seriously? Do you have *any* idea how hard it is to get blood off the furniture?" Steve's coveralls seemed to indicate there may have been more blood than Paul remembered spilling.
"I thought we had easy-clean furniture?" Paul realized his comment had not helped matters.
"Yeah, but that means it's 10 minutes a chair rather than having to reupholster the fuckers." Brandon interjected. "And there are 40 people in this office. Thank god sales sat this one out."
"Oh".
"Yeah. Oh." Frank looked disgusted. "So I take it you didn't get the wave? That the office is closed for today because we're *still* not done undoing what you little twats did last night?"
"I guess I may have missed that one." Of course, Paul thought. He didn't think it made sense that he'd been the first one in the office. He'd been 5 minutes late.
"Well unless you feel like helping out I suggest the little blood-fairy go the fuck home!"
"Ok." Paul did feel bad. He knew it wasn't cool to have left them with all this carnage, but he didn't feel like sticking around for any more abuse.
"Oh, and come early on Wednesday." Frank said as Paul was half out the door, a smirk on his face. "Trust me. You'll want to have first pick."
First pick? Paul wasn't sure what Frank had meant, but Frank's expression piqued his curiosity.
Returning the next day, Paul noticed something was different. The smell. It was almost *too* clean. He was an hour early. He knew Dex was usually half an hour early, and there was no way he was letting Dex be first. Not after Monday.
Opening the door, he smiled. The entire office, every piece of furniture, was covered in thick clear plastic. And arranged neatly across the floor were all the weapons they had ordered for the kill room: chainsaws, katanas, machetes, sledgehammers, crossbows...And above them, a sign, painted in what looked like blood, that said
"CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON. YOU HAVE 10 SECONDS.
Paul laughed. Fucking Frank. As tempting as it was be to dual wield the chainsaws just for shits, he knew he'd have better luck racking up kills with the machete. Plus that gave a free hand to find a shield somewhere.
"One thousand one....one thousand two.....one thousand three...." He counted to himself as he picked up the machete and looked for a good spot to ambush his co-workers. "one thousand nine....one thousand..."
He felt a sharp pain in his back of his neck. As he fell he managed to turn around and look up just before everything went dark. There was Frank, tactical knife in hand and a huge grin on his face. Waking up in the respawn chamber a short time later with a phantom pain in his neck, Paul shook his head.
"FRANK, YOU FUCKING CAMPER!"
| "Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats where Ebin came in. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
We unconsously edged backwards, eyes locked and unblinking, but there really wasn't much to see. It was just a big metal box, same as yesterday, the same as all the days before that, except now there was a pleading, screaming voice coming out of it. A disconnect from reality washed over me. For a second I thought, it must be a bad dream, there's no way I would put some dumb kid in the compactor. This cannot be real.
Except, it was.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
Jake doubled over and threw up on his own feet. I just stood there, staring at the compactor.
After a while he caught his breath, and looked up at me.
"Greg?....."
"Yeah...."
"I'm pretty sure we're going to hell for that."
"Yeah.......I really though it would be funnier"
......................................................................end........................................................
OR
"Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats when our boss Steve hired Ebin. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
We stood watching the monolithic machine, as it settled into the crush cycle, making creaking, popping and pinging noises, like a submarine submerging.
"Greg?"
"Yeah?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Nah, it felt great."
"Drinking a bottle of lye felt good?"
"Well, I didn't really drink a bottle of lye."
"Wait, we all saw you come out of the re-spawn."
"It was more of a stroke and choke thing gone wrong......... I always wanted to try it, figured now that we have the re-spawn, perfect time. Drinking lye sounded way cooler than auto-erotic asphyxiation."
"Makes sense, in a Greg sort of way. Soooo Ebin?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, but I'd bet it hurt like a bastard."
.......................................................................End.........................................................................
edited, spelling, grammar and endings.
What do you think? Ending one or two?
|
|
[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | "Hey Steve, guess what I just finished doing in Jim's office."
"What? Did you poop on his desk again?"
"No. Even better! I spiked his coffee with poison. He'll have to walk all the way back to work from his house when he re-spawns because his cars here!"
"Didn't Jim say he couldn't afford to pay the re-spawn company this month and his subscription was canceled?"
A thud is heard across the office as a body hits the floor.
"Oops." | "Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats where Ebin came in. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
We unconsously edged backwards, eyes locked and unblinking, but there really wasn't much to see. It was just a big metal box, same as yesterday, the same as all the days before that, except now there was a pleading, screaming voice coming out of it. A disconnect from reality washed over me. For a second I thought, it must be a bad dream, there's no way I would put some dumb kid in the compactor. This cannot be real.
Except, it was.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
Jake doubled over and threw up on his own feet. I just stood there, staring at the compactor.
After a while he caught his breath, and looked up at me.
"Greg?....."
"Yeah...."
"I'm pretty sure we're going to hell for that."
"Yeah.......I really though it would be funnier"
......................................................................end........................................................
OR
"Come on buddy, everybody's doing it."
"I don't know, what if it dosen't work?" Ebin asked warily. He looked a little shaky.
Ebin was new here at PrimeCo, where we worked the night shift, loading machinery from the manufacturing wing into shipping crates all night. It was a relentless and boring job, but Jake and I did it well.I muscled the crates, and Jake drove the forklift in perfect synchronicity. But, orders were up, and management thought we needed an extra hand.
Thats when our boss Steve hired Ebin. He had been following me and Jake around for a week,getting in the way constantly, and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
"Come on, Greg just did it just last week. Worked great, didn't it?" Jake replied with a winning smile.
"Yeah, man. Drinking that bottle of lye was the best thing I've ever done. My kenee used to crack and ache all the time, but since I re-spawned its good as new.....Come on, it'll be legendary. People will be telling this story for years."
We stood side by side, considering the hulking green metal box of the trash compactor in front of us. The front door gaping open like the maw of some robot beast. Cardboard and trash spilled in front of it like half chewed food. It seemed like a lot of time passed.
"Fuck it." Ebin spat with bravado, but he looked a pretty pale. With a clumsy hop he jumped into the chute and slid down the slight angle of the compactors throat. We jumped forward before he could change his mind. I slammed the door shut,and flicked the lock while Jake punched the start button.
The instant the hum of hydraulics stated , he began screaming. I could hear the scuttling of his feet and hands on the metal throat of the chute. It sounded like a giant rat stuck in a trap.
"Guys, please.........Stop it, Stop, I don't want to die in here. PLEASE HELP, HELP ANYBODY" He lost his voice in a string of gugling sobs.
Four fingers shot out of the corner of the door, as he tried to pry it open. The shouts got louder, he must have his mouth crammed in the door crack
"PLEASE, GUYS, HIT THE STOP BUTT", The hydraulics screamed, drowning his voice out, just as three of the four fingers, no longer attached to anything, jumped away from the door. The middle finger, the biggest was still wedged in the crack.
Now a long scraping noise as the hydraulic ram cleared throat, pushing Ebin and everything else to the center of the machine, where it squishes everything into a tidy cube.
We stood watching the monolithic machine, as it settled into the crush cycle, making creaking, popping and pinging noises, like a submarine submerging.
"Greg?"
"Yeah?"
"Did it hurt?"
"Nah, it felt great."
"Drinking a bottle of lye felt good?"
"Well, I didn't really drink a bottle of lye."
"Wait, we all saw you come out of the re-spawn."
"It was more of a stroke and choke thing gone wrong......... I always wanted to try it, figured now that we have the re-spawn, perfect time. Drinking lye sounded way cooler than auto-erotic asphyxiation."
"Makes sense, in a Greg sort of way. Soooo Ebin?"
"Well, I don't know for sure, but I'd bet it hurt like a bastard."
.......................................................................End.........................................................................
edited, spelling, grammar and endings.
What do you think? Ending one or two?
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[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | Maintenance had thrown a fit the day after it had been installed, and Paul had gotten the brunt of the rage.
"It's a fucking *respawn* point, not a reset button!" Frank, head of the maintenance department, was not a fan of doing more work than he needed to.
"I'm sorry, I know we should have..."
"Waited? Yeah, you better fucking should have! One day! One day until we installed the kill room and you sick little fucks could have wasted each other to your hearts content! But no, you had to paint the whole fucking office red the day we get the damn thing! I had to drag four Toms, three Alices, two Michaels, four Cheryl's, and eight, *EIGHT*, of your own fucking corpses down to the dumpster last night! And that was just in your department! What the fucks were you using? Weapons haven't even arrived!"
"Pens mostly. The occasional piece of furniture. Kevin somehow had a letter opener. And of course Dex had been secretly bringing his Bowie knife everyday because wanted to get the jump on us. That's why there were so many of me. He started it. He thought it would be funny to test the respawn point right after I'd been scanned. And there were more bodies originally. We got tired after carrying down the first couple dozen." Paul responded sheepishly.
"Seriously? Do you have *any* idea how hard it is to get blood off the furniture?" Steve's coveralls seemed to indicate there may have been more blood than Paul remembered spilling.
"I thought we had easy-clean furniture?" Paul realized his comment had not helped matters.
"Yeah, but that means it's 10 minutes a chair rather than having to reupholster the fuckers." Brandon interjected. "And there are 40 people in this office. Thank god sales sat this one out."
"Oh".
"Yeah. Oh." Frank looked disgusted. "So I take it you didn't get the wave? That the office is closed for today because we're *still* not done undoing what you little twats did last night?"
"I guess I may have missed that one." Of course, Paul thought. He didn't think it made sense that he'd been the first one in the office. He'd been 5 minutes late.
"Well unless you feel like helping out I suggest the little blood-fairy go the fuck home!"
"Ok." Paul did feel bad. He knew it wasn't cool to have left them with all this carnage, but he didn't feel like sticking around for any more abuse.
"Oh, and come early on Wednesday." Frank said as Paul was half out the door, a smirk on his face. "Trust me. You'll want to have first pick."
First pick? Paul wasn't sure what Frank had meant, but Frank's expression piqued his curiosity.
Returning the next day, Paul noticed something was different. The smell. It was almost *too* clean. He was an hour early. He knew Dex was usually half an hour early, and there was no way he was letting Dex be first. Not after Monday.
Opening the door, he smiled. The entire office, every piece of furniture, was covered in thick clear plastic. And arranged neatly across the floor were all the weapons they had ordered for the kill room: chainsaws, katanas, machetes, sledgehammers, crossbows...And above them, a sign, painted in what looked like blood, that said
"CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON. YOU HAVE 10 SECONDS.
Paul laughed. Fucking Frank. As tempting as it was be to dual wield the chainsaws just for shits, he knew he'd have better luck racking up kills with the machete. Plus that gave a free hand to find a shield somewhere.
"One thousand one....one thousand two.....one thousand three...." He counted to himself as he picked up the machete and looked for a good spot to ambush his co-workers. "one thousand nine....one thousand..."
He felt a sharp pain in his back of his neck. As he fell he managed to turn around and look up just before everything went dark. There was Frank, tactical knife in hand and a huge grin on his face. Waking up in the respawn chamber a short time later with a phantom pain in his neck, Paul shook his head.
"FRANK, YOU FUCKING CAMPER!"
| "Hey Brent, think fast!"
The knife whirred through the air in a perfect arc and nailed him through the throat. He managed to gulp in one last breath of air and told me to fuck off. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have turned Brent into a horizontal coat rack. Now I'd be stuck covering his shifts until he respawned wherever he saved last. Damn. That could be *hours*. Fine. If Brent's stupid oxygen needs wanted to screw up my productivity, so be it. I'll have to get him back for it somehow...maybe a throwing star or something... |
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[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | I was ecstatic. The deal I was closing was huge. I was looking at the biggest commission I would ever see. I was waiting on one more follow up call, which should have been coming in any minute. But then the siren started blaring.
"No, not *now*." I whispered. Everyone stopped what they were doing and started reaching under their desks. The loud speaker crackled to life.
"Random Deathmatch will begin in fifteen seconds," a voice announced.
"Not now!" I yelled, repeating my earlier whisper. Everyone took out their guns, patiently waiting for the starting bell. The announcer began counting down.
"10, 9, 8..."
"Guys! Seriously, don't shoot me! I'm waiting on a really important call!"
"3, 2, 1." A bell rang. "Commence Deathmatch!" The phone started to ring. Gun shots started filling the room. As I picked up the phone, my head jolted. "First blood!"
As my consciousness started to fade, I could hear a voice fading away. "Hello? Jim? Hello? Screw this, I'm calling Office Max." | "Hey Brent, think fast!"
The knife whirred through the air in a perfect arc and nailed him through the throat. He managed to gulp in one last breath of air and told me to fuck off. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have turned Brent into a horizontal coat rack. Now I'd be stuck covering his shifts until he respawned wherever he saved last. Damn. That could be *hours*. Fine. If Brent's stupid oxygen needs wanted to screw up my productivity, so be it. I'll have to get him back for it somehow...maybe a throwing star or something... |
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[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | "Hey Steve, guess what I just finished doing in Jim's office."
"What? Did you poop on his desk again?"
"No. Even better! I spiked his coffee with poison. He'll have to walk all the way back to work from his house when he re-spawns because his cars here!"
"Didn't Jim say he couldn't afford to pay the re-spawn company this month and his subscription was canceled?"
A thud is heard across the office as a body hits the floor.
"Oops." | "Hey Brent, think fast!"
The knife whirred through the air in a perfect arc and nailed him through the throat. He managed to gulp in one last breath of air and told me to fuck off. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I shouldn't have turned Brent into a horizontal coat rack. Now I'd be stuck covering his shifts until he respawned wherever he saved last. Damn. That could be *hours*. Fine. If Brent's stupid oxygen needs wanted to screw up my productivity, so be it. I'll have to get him back for it somehow...maybe a throwing star or something... |
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[WP] Office pranks get out of hand once humanity invents the 'respawn point' | "Hey Steve, guess what I just finished doing in Jim's office."
"What? Did you poop on his desk again?"
"No. Even better! I spiked his coffee with poison. He'll have to walk all the way back to work from his house when he re-spawns because his cars here!"
"Didn't Jim say he couldn't afford to pay the re-spawn company this month and his subscription was canceled?"
A thud is heard across the office as a body hits the floor.
"Oops." | I was ecstatic. The deal I was closing was huge. I was looking at the biggest commission I would ever see. I was waiting on one more follow up call, which should have been coming in any minute. But then the siren started blaring.
"No, not *now*." I whispered. Everyone stopped what they were doing and started reaching under their desks. The loud speaker crackled to life.
"Random Deathmatch will begin in fifteen seconds," a voice announced.
"Not now!" I yelled, repeating my earlier whisper. Everyone took out their guns, patiently waiting for the starting bell. The announcer began counting down.
"10, 9, 8..."
"Guys! Seriously, don't shoot me! I'm waiting on a really important call!"
"3, 2, 1." A bell rang. "Commence Deathmatch!" The phone started to ring. Gun shots started filling the room. As I picked up the phone, my head jolted. "First blood!"
As my consciousness started to fade, I could hear a voice fading away. "Hello? Jim? Hello? Screw this, I'm calling Office Max." |
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[WP] Some people get to go to heaven when they die. If you're really good you get a +1 to take with you. Who you choose surprises everyone. | "Are you serious?!? Logistically alone, what you're asking is a nightmare."
"well it's not like there's no precedent for him being up here, and everyone deserves another chance ."
"This isn't going all in after playing just the tip with your high-school girlfriend, this is divine fucking intervention! We don''t just give this shit away you know."
"I'm sorry are you the one who just died saving a little kid from getting hit by a Mack truck? My earthly remains are basically a particularly chunky soup!
"you know normally that's not enough, normally you've got to save at least 3 plus kids, it's pure dumb luck you saved a future pope."
"Pope? Really? i wouldn't even have had to shove him if he hadn't been picking his nose quite so intently. Regardless, you told me i get a plus one and that's my pick"
"what about your aunt nan? Shes not in here you know."
"and for good fucking reason! All the woman ever did was play the Clarinet badly and talk like she was in training for the racism Olympics."
"*sigh* fine but if this blows up you're the one who has to explain it to big beard"
"fair enough"
*Poof*
"*Good to see you again Peter*"
"You too Lou, your benefactor here read too much Twain and now it looks like you get another shot"
"*Goodie Goodie, i guess i have you to thank for this new...opportunity human*
"Former human, now mostly paste. Big fan Mr. Morningstar, pleasure to meet you"
"Before you two get all Gomorrah on one another we should probably go explain this to dad."
*Lead the way pete, im quite looking forward to seeing ol' whiskers again*
| The decision seemed a lot harder at first than it really was. At first, I thought it was a test. Pick one other person in all of history to take with me to heaven, no restrictions. The obvious answer was to take a kid starving in poverty, of course.
"It's not quite the same, if they're already dead, is it?" I asked as I looked at the sign. "I mean, they've gotten sorted through."
The sign, being a sign, did not respond.
"But it seems wrong to take someone that's still alive. They still have a full life to live."
Though, I could take my wife. She would like that, not having to mourn much longer. Yet, at the same time, that would be selfish of me. She would surely get in anyway, she actually believed in this during life. I never did; I only got in by virtue of her making me get baptized anyway.
I grabbed the sign.
"I'll take this. I don't really want anyone else knowing about the whole plus one deal." |
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[WP] Space wasn't the final frontier... | The project had began long ago. Hundreds of years ago actually. It was called "Omega Navigator" and it was finally coming to completion. That's all thanks to the discovery of faster then light travel through the manipulation of space. In the first 500 years or so, humanity made terribly slow progress, only 1.731%(ish) completed. Now, only a couple decades later, they are at 99.999996% completion. It's been remarkable to say the least. The Omega Navigator would turn out to be the largest and most comprehensive database of information to ever exist. It would be a complete map of the entire universe. This is no easy task either, as the universe is not a stagnant terrain. This map would have all information on all large bodies of matter. It would be a three-dimensional map, which would follow the patterns of the universe exactly, and account for all sorts of factors like gravity and collisions.
Renold Mortimer was a the captain of an observer-craft. He was tasked for recording information on areas at the outer edge of space. He was tasked with a small ship, in fact, he was the only member of his craft. They often did that with far-reach observer ships. Nobody likes to be home for long. Mortimer had been working into his 16th year as an observer. Mortimer didn't mind, however. He wasn't very fond of earth, and its rather unruly inhabitants. He had wanted to be an observer all his life. Mortimer much preferred the company of stars. He did occasionally talk to other edge observers as well. They were a reserved folk, but they all had one thing in common, they loved stars.
Mortimer was flying at near lightspeed again watching the passing by of stars, and gazing at his monitered, as it measured and recorded gigabytes of data in seconds. Then, Mortimer turned the cockpit around, and stared at the edge of space. The contrast was incredible. On one side of his craft, a vast universe speckled with the explosions of a trillion stars. On the other side, utter nothingness, literally pitch black. Mortimer called Teresa, another edge observer in his proximity.
"Hey Teresa, have I woken you?"
"No worries Morty, I've been up for some 18 hrs now."
"Maybe you should get some rest then, and be ready for tomorrow."
"Are you insane? And miss the completion? Centuries of work have gone into this project, and I'm going to be awake when it finishes!"
"Ya that's true..."
"Any particular reason you called?"
"Well, ya... I was just thinking about the edg-"
"Please don't tell me you're on to this again. We've been over this before."
"I know, I know-"
"You don't know what's behind there. We know everything there is to know about everything there is before the edge, so why bother going past it?"
"Look I'm not saying I just want to fly right into it."
"Good, headquarters says you won't make it back if you go through. There's nothing to observe, therefore, nothings there."
"But can I even 'go through?' Is it empty space, or a wall or sorts?"
"I don't know Morty it's absolute black, indiscernible. All I know is that the definitely universe exists up until that edge, but beyond it, there's no telling."
"Oh look, we've gone up to 99.99998% completion."
"I can't believe this is actually about to happen. In our lifetimes!"
"You know, we lose our jobs after this."
"Yes we all know that, we never did this for the job, we did it for the exploration."
"EXACTLY! That's the reason. This universe can't be the last thing to explore. There HAS to be more."
"Morty, stop talking like this. You can't jump the edge! Headquarters can hear us you know!"
"I will take them a couple months to get out to where we are. Omega Navigator will be completed in a matter of minutes."
"What are you saying... Mortimer..."
"Once we hit 100%, I'm finally breaking the edge. I've been staring at it for nearly 17 years, and when I first saw it I knew this day would come."
"Listen to yourself you sound like a damn insect drawn to a flame."
"99.9999% completed."
"Mortimer"
"Teresa, if they ask about me, tell them I said this. There are those who are smarter then me. There are those who are more knowledgeable then me. However, it doesn't matter how many IQ points you are gifted with, or many books you read, there is one thing you will never know, that I will have learned. The question you will never be able to answer for yourself, lest you take the same step as me, is: What lies behind the edge? Farewell Teresa, I hope to see you again shortly."
Mortimer hung, pleased with his parting words. Now he stared hungrily at the nothingness. He stared at his monitor.
*99.9999*
.....
*99.9999*
.....
*99.9999*
..... *click*
*100.0000*
"Headquarters? Yes this is Teresa Granger of Edge-Observer 034201d. I'd like to report suspicious behavior of Renold Mortimer, 034201c. What? How did you know he was planning on flying into the edge?! There are?! How many other reports are there??! Oh God... Wait, but what do I-"
Teresa looked down at her monitor as it clicked 100%. Back home, the world was celebrating. But she was solemn, as she reconciled the fact that thousands, maybe millions of her co-workers through themselves into the unknown. That wasn't discovery, she said. That was suicide.
The humans purged through the barrier between their own bubble of space-time, and the unobserved. Mortimer, sweat dripping down his face, finally opened his eyes, he was terrified. He experienced a blinding unlike anything before. You could not grasp what he was beholding. His eyes did not feel pain or comfort, but his mind was bombarded, the picture he beheld he did not comprehend. Stared at the swirling mass of information in front of him, and fell over, accidentally dimming the screen of his cockpit. He caught ahold of himself, and looked at the monitor. It was attempting to observe the terrain around it, and it suddenly froze. Mortimer undimmed the screen, and again was almost intoxicated by what he saw. His brain became weary fast, and he began to enter a deep slumber.
Mortimer, along with many other edge-observers, burst out of their bubble. They exited their own universe, entered a realm of other universes. Mortimer was confronted with a 5th dimension universe in his immediate view, and simply could not comprehend the shifting and reality breaking whirl of matter. The poor observers who glanced at an 11th dimension universe almost immediately fainted, their brain attempting to make sense of the information it received. They might awake some day, having forgotten the instance, only the see the same universe again, and faint in cycle.
Mortimer and his other observers had found the answer to the question of what lies beyond the edge: the multiverse. But not even they could answer the question of what to do with it. | Frank looked up at his display screen...it couldn't be! There was the Milky Way again but according to his navigational charts, he absolutely had been traveling AWAY from the Milky Way. It was as if space had looped.
He was tempted to return to Earth, but instead decided to checkout a random solar system near the center of this "Milky Way" galaxy. He locked onto the gravitational constant of its star, shifted the frequency of his ship upward and instantly hurtled forward at incredible speeds.
The blinding light from the warp drive dimmed and the ship automatically slowed down once it entered the solar system. The computer made a quick survey of the system and Frank choose a random planet to survey for his mission. But something was odd about this planet...it looked suspiciously like Saturn back at home. His computer confirmed that it for all practical purposes WAS Saturn. Intrigued Frank decided to checkout the rest of the planets.
Sure enough...closer to the center of the system was an "Earth", but this was different. Whereas his Earth was populated by billions of technologically advanced habitats, there was no sign of intelligent life on this Earth. A throbbing white light shot up from the planet and Frank felt his ship being automatically being pulled to the surface.
The ship landed softly and Frank got out and was blinded by the strongest light source he had ever seen. As his eyes adjusted he made out entities floating around him looking at him with curiosity. One of the taller entities stepped forward:
"Sorry we had to do this to you, but it was becoming too much of a strain to keep this up"!
Frank blinked confusingly.
"You see all your glorious space adventures were projections of ours. You were never really traveling that fast through space (an absurd violation of the laws of physics!). Every-time you would enter a new solar system, we would have to make planets and animals and stars. It was all very stressful really. We cheated a bit and re-used what we could. Had you been a bit more observant you would have spotted our re-used planets and stars years ago. Then recently came the point where we just couldn't keep up and re-used an entire galaxy! We thought we could get away with it given what you had fallen for before...but this time our luck ran out."
"So now what" asked Frank?
"It's time for you to explore the real final frontier", proclaimed a smaller entity and pointed to its transparent head. "You spent all this time looking far and wide for reality when it was inside of you all along."
"But YOU have been controlling what I've been seeing", protested Frank.
"Not quite... We could not pull this off had we been fighting your will."
"Let's go back in time to explain... You were once a happy entity in another dimension when you decided to explore what you deemed as the space/time dimension. But the only way to do this was to fracture yourself into artificial pieces. Some pieces would provide the contrast you needed, whereas some pieces (like us) were needed to stay apart to generate the illusions you desired."
"You can not explore other dimensions until you escape this one...but you have not been doing a very good job at escaping."
Frank blinked in confusion...
"You see, you have been exploring time/space when you should have been exploring why it even is. You need to be exploring up here (pointing at Franks head) and wondering why you think the thoughts you think instead of why your planet of the month came to be."
With that, everything faded into a blinding light and then recessed as Frank found himself back on his ship staring at Earth...but this time the real Earth. Or was it? Boy after all those trillions of light years he had traveled, he was confused as ever. He did not look forward to submitting his report to his boss at stellar cartography headquarters... |
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[WP] Space wasn't the final frontier... | Space wasn't the final frontier. Death was. Mankind had always told stories of the afterlife. The stories and ideas being as varied and unique as the people who told them. And in the year of our lord 200,456 AD man took the step from the world of the living to the world of the dead.
They were called necronaughts. Three men and one woman who would step through the ether and into a world that shouldn't exist. Almost two hundred thousand years of science, rational thought and atheism undone in the time it took to walk forward a meter.
We'll never know exactly what was seen by the those brave souls. Only that they were gone for one hour and came back changed. They returned. They told us God was disappointed and then refused to ever speak again.
And now we move forward with a new purpose in life.
- The National Necronaught Memorial Wall | Frank looked up at his display screen...it couldn't be! There was the Milky Way again but according to his navigational charts, he absolutely had been traveling AWAY from the Milky Way. It was as if space had looped.
He was tempted to return to Earth, but instead decided to checkout a random solar system near the center of this "Milky Way" galaxy. He locked onto the gravitational constant of its star, shifted the frequency of his ship upward and instantly hurtled forward at incredible speeds.
The blinding light from the warp drive dimmed and the ship automatically slowed down once it entered the solar system. The computer made a quick survey of the system and Frank choose a random planet to survey for his mission. But something was odd about this planet...it looked suspiciously like Saturn back at home. His computer confirmed that it for all practical purposes WAS Saturn. Intrigued Frank decided to checkout the rest of the planets.
Sure enough...closer to the center of the system was an "Earth", but this was different. Whereas his Earth was populated by billions of technologically advanced habitats, there was no sign of intelligent life on this Earth. A throbbing white light shot up from the planet and Frank felt his ship being automatically being pulled to the surface.
The ship landed softly and Frank got out and was blinded by the strongest light source he had ever seen. As his eyes adjusted he made out entities floating around him looking at him with curiosity. One of the taller entities stepped forward:
"Sorry we had to do this to you, but it was becoming too much of a strain to keep this up"!
Frank blinked confusingly.
"You see all your glorious space adventures were projections of ours. You were never really traveling that fast through space (an absurd violation of the laws of physics!). Every-time you would enter a new solar system, we would have to make planets and animals and stars. It was all very stressful really. We cheated a bit and re-used what we could. Had you been a bit more observant you would have spotted our re-used planets and stars years ago. Then recently came the point where we just couldn't keep up and re-used an entire galaxy! We thought we could get away with it given what you had fallen for before...but this time our luck ran out."
"So now what" asked Frank?
"It's time for you to explore the real final frontier", proclaimed a smaller entity and pointed to its transparent head. "You spent all this time looking far and wide for reality when it was inside of you all along."
"But YOU have been controlling what I've been seeing", protested Frank.
"Not quite... We could not pull this off had we been fighting your will."
"Let's go back in time to explain... You were once a happy entity in another dimension when you decided to explore what you deemed as the space/time dimension. But the only way to do this was to fracture yourself into artificial pieces. Some pieces would provide the contrast you needed, whereas some pieces (like us) were needed to stay apart to generate the illusions you desired."
"You can not explore other dimensions until you escape this one...but you have not been doing a very good job at escaping."
Frank blinked in confusion...
"You see, you have been exploring time/space when you should have been exploring why it even is. You need to be exploring up here (pointing at Franks head) and wondering why you think the thoughts you think instead of why your planet of the month came to be."
With that, everything faded into a blinding light and then recessed as Frank found himself back on his ship staring at Earth...but this time the real Earth. Or was it? Boy after all those trillions of light years he had traveled, he was confused as ever. He did not look forward to submitting his report to his boss at stellar cartography headquarters... |
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[WP] Due to a recent freak accident, you discover you have the ability to hear the thoughts of others, but only those of people who are thinking terrible things about you. | We sat in silence, her head on my chest. That's what I loved about her. She was the one person I could be around and share absolute silence with.
Even in the happiest moments with the best of friends I could hear their malicious thoughts. "I don't even know why Michael was invited", "God he laughs so loud", "I hate this story, he tells it all the time".
It was worse with family. At Thanksgiving my mother said "and I'm so thankful for my wonderful son". That is not what was thought.
Of course I could never tell anyone about it. Who would spend time with a mind reader? I would be an outcast. Then again, I had pushed everyone away myself. Everybody except for her. The only words I heard from her came from her own breath.
She whispered something to me. "What was that? I didn't hear you".
"I didn't say anything" | You finally realize that it's all really just a self-fulfilling prophecy and you're going nuts. The more you think you hear people think terrible things about you, the less you care about putting on that good image you've been putting on. The voices continue telling you you've failed, that you're not good enough, that you're crazy. And you fight them. Wasting all this energy trying to fight against the voices inside your head. No longer are you acting to counter their insults, but it's gotten to the point that you're trapped inside your head, arguing them in typical debate style. Until, slowly, you've changed so much that the voices in your head correspond to the real voices of people around you. In an attempt to fight the fake insults inside your head, you have led your life in a way to make them real. And now you are the terrible thoughts you mistakenly attributed to real people. |
|
Well known antiheros are Deadpool, Punisher, or Rorschach. | [WP] A loved and respected hero discovers something that leads him to become a morally questionable antihero. | [Not exactly self discovery as someone/s bringing it to his attention]
“He’s here” said the muscular green skinned humanoid. His eyes were lightly closed, his jaw slightly tense with mild concentration, a physical tell that his mind was reaching out afar.
“Thank you, J’onn” said the golden armored Amazonian princess as she rose from her monitor console. A red light flashed overhead confirming the Martian’s telepathy.
Diana waved her hand in the empty air before her causing three holographic projections of some of Earth’s mightiest protectors to appear “Kal? Barry? Hal? Bruce has arrived. Can you join us in the Monitor hub?”
She dismissed the holos and turned towards the whooshing sound of a pressurized door unlocking.
“Bruce, thank you for answering my summons” she said with a slight nod of acknowledgement.
The Batman entered the room silently and made his way to an empty monitor station. The expressionless white eyelets of his cowl seemed to gather in the ambient red light giving him a more menacing visage than normal. Before sitting he turned his head towards the Martian Manhunter wordlessly letting his teammate know his feelings on uninvited mental intrusions which seemed to drive the hulking green titan instinctively turning transparent.
“What is this about?” The Dark Knight said to no one in particular.
“If I we could wait for the others to arrive we’ll be more than happy to get on with things” Said Wonder Woman.
“We?”
Before he could continue another set of pressurized doors opened revealing the three most powerful members of the Justice League.
Superman, as was his way, stepped through first and made his way to his seat beside the Gotham crusader. “Bruce” he said with a nod.
Hal Jordan and Barry Allen took their respective places in somber silence.
“Thank you all for coming. I know how difficult it can be to pull away from your individual responsibilities” Diana said as she waved her hand through the air before her bringing to life another holographic projection visible to all who were gathered.
“You brought me here to talk about a spreadsheet?” Batman said in gravelly voiced annoyance.
“Bruce, Mr. Terrific put this together with the hopes we’d be able to appeal to the logician within you. Now, if you’ll look closely it breaks out by total net worth the wealthiest humans on Earth. As you can see here Bruce, you rank third right now but that number is meaningless since the ranking for the top five can change by the second but suffice it to say you’ve never left the top three since you resumed control of Wayne Enterpris-“
A raspy unsettling laugh prevented the Princess from continuing.
“Bruce? Is there something you’d like to say?” Diana asked with mild annoyance.
“I just find it funny that the most powerful beings on the planet asked the third smartest man in the world to put together a spreadsheet about the third richest man in the world. None of you know how to use Excel. I find that hilarious” The Batman said as all traces of his smile faded from his chiseled from stone jaw.
“Diana, why don’t you skip ahead to the conclusion” Superman asked politely.
“Fine. Bruce, no one here wants to trivialize your contributions to the League but our analysis has revealed that with your intelligence, will and resources ..well, Bruce Wayne could do more for the world than The Batman could ever hope to accomplish. We’re talking orders of magnitude here. You could fund the distribution of life saving vaccines across several continents. You could lead the way on the development of high yield-low maintenance crops that could end starvation. If you shared the work you’ve done on noncombustible fuel alternatives, the tech you’ve used on the Batmobile ..you could end your countries dependence on foreign oil. Our projections show a decrease in subsidies for Oil and crop yield would allow the appropriation of funding back to Education across America and its Allies. That means a reduction in crime. Isn’t that why you put that cowl on? Why you’ve spent a decade punishing your body? So that no one has to fear what lurks in the dark places of Gotham? You have the means to bring light to millions, if not billions. You could be the hand that shapes the 21st Century into a global paradise…You just have to let Bruce Wayne stand in the ligh—“
The Batman stood abruptly, his armored fist shattering the glass on his monitor station “There is no Bruce Wayne! He died at the age of twelve in the same filthy alleyway as his parents. I can't believe I'm hearing this. You think because you sit up here like gods looking down from Olympus you have the right to dictate my destiny? Well let me tell you something your highness I wasn’t fortunate enough to be plastered together by gods!” He said with a finger pointed at the towering amazon’s face
“Bruce, that’s not fair” Superman said soothingly. It had no effect.
“My Father didn’t get to pick the one planet in the entire cosmos that would let his son have the powers of a god! No my Father died choking on his own blood believing he was too weak to protect his family” Superman averted his gaze from his teammates tirade.
“Are you two in on this as well?” Batman said as he looked at Green Lantern and The Flash “Did I get sold out by the only other humans granted passage into Olympus?”
“Its not like that Bruce” Barry said as he pulled back his mask to reveal his face “If I was a billionaire I’d try to do all the things Diana spoke about. I wouldn’t have to risk my life every night…I’d get to spend my evenings with Iris..I-“
“That’s because you are Barry Allen! You feel guilty every time you don that suit because it pulls you away from your loved ones. I don’t have loved ones. They were taken from me-“
“and how long are you going to make the world suffer for that loss?” J’onn said stepping out from the shadows
“Stay out of my head, Alien!”
“Bruce, you don’t need telepathy to see how your parents death affected you. I know that kind of pain. We all do in some measure –the difference is …we only have our abilities and a desire to help. You have so much more to give this world than your fists and forensic genius…If you could just be reasonable”
“Reasonable?! …I’ve stood face to face with Darkseid. You think a spreadsheet is enough to make me give up my mantle?”
The Batman removed a metal disc from his belt and flung it across the hub “Consider this my resignation” He turned to give his former teammates one last look before heading towards the airlocks.
Diana picked up his transporter receiver as she shook her head “You’d willingly abandon the hopes of a better tomorrow so you can carry on your personal crusade? How long do you think you have Bruce? You’re only human. What happens when you die “
Superman stood, his hands raised in a defensive posture towards Diana
“No Kal, he needs to face some realities. You hear me Bruce? Not if, but when! When you die, your fortune will be dissolved and redistributed and the dream of what it could have accomplished will be as dead as you"
“I told you Princess, there is no Bruce Wayne”
The door closed behind him with a whoosh
| The Inquisitor burst through the doors, he struggled forward as he found a table to lean on. His morality was shaken, his quest to purify humanities soul seemed adrift far away in the early morning hour. Inquisitors throat ran dry, feeling like vomiting, he keeled over as the visions ran back toward his eyes.
Misery and heresy ran rampant upon the human condition, it was his job to cleanse the populace of those who...of the unworthy. The man clutched his pistol, strength came rushing back to his weak kneed body. His Hell where he was born beckoned back, calling him in his hour of weakness. Fixing his uniform, and striding back through the hall doors, he would settle this question of morality.
He saw the only way to escape the debauchery that consumed this world, he held the gun up to his head. Hell is where we are born, where we choose to stay, where we are unable to squelch our miseries. The pushing of everyone away, the days that turned to years... I'll pull the trigger on myself, this Hell is not where I choose to stay. These memories that consume me like a acid can no longer haunt me. Somewhere in the end of all this hate..
Were all alone. |
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