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[WP] Once every four years, in a top secret location all former presidents and the standing President of the United States gather with one goal. Roast the ever living shit out of the standing president.
|
Jackson was drunk again.
“Damn darkies oughtta be serving us rather than sitting down there, listening to us.”
Grant rolled his eyes and tapped his cigar. “That fucker never could hold his liquor,” he said, turning to Lincoln, who nodded over his dessert, a brûlée of astonishing silkiness. “Complete shitstain on the office,” the tall man said.
As was the custom, George W. Bush stood for the introduction. With his butter knife, he tapped his glass, which immediately shattered.
“Presidents! Presidents!” he called. “For the second time,” he said, as the drunken murmuring slowed. “I have the distinct honor and privilege of introducing tonight’s honoree, the great president from Kenya, our first Muslim president, our first Socialist president, our first Rainbow coalition president, Mr. Barack Hussein Obama!”
The applause was muted. It had been respectful four years ago, when Obama appeared for the first time, but the 43 guys in the room were tired. Most of them were dead.
Besides, Obama was a stiff. Everybody knew that. Without his writers — and writers were forbidden at the President’s Dinner — Obama could still offer an unrivaled disquisition on health policy, but he was hopeless at humor.
“My fellow presidents,” he began. “I asked to begin this roast rather than end it because I thought you should know: The living presidents and I have gotten together and decided to end these stupid, fucking things.”
Washington and Jefferson, who had attended more of these than anybody, were wide-eyed. Adams was asleep, as was his custom.
“The fact is,” Obama said, pulling the mic out of the stand, “that with the exception of Kennedy — who still knows how to party — and TR, you guys suck. Most of you are racists. Many of you are moralistic teetotalers. Several of you are idiots. Most of you are simply evil fucks who enriched your families and parties over this nation. You got us into war. You dragged your feet on progress.
“In short, you sucked, and I ain’t got time for this shit.
“I’ve got a country to run," he said, dropping the mic and heading for the stairs. "Fuck you all."
|
***Not the Kind of Roast You Were Thinking.***
*Weaving spiders come not here.* Read the inscription on the plaque at the gate.
Junior already had enough trouble reading, but even the full moon barely cast enough light for him to see through the dark tinted windows.
*Hehe.* He chuckled. *I wonder what the hell that means.* He mumbled as the three armored trucks rolled onto the winding gravel path and into the tall trees.
A man in a black suit and an earpiece nodded to the police officers across the road and then whispered something into the cuff of his jacket as he stepped back slowly inside the fence, looking left and right one last time.
*It's Shakespeare, Junior.* a calm older voice muttered from the forward seats.
*Shakespeare?* Junior asked.
*Midsummer Night's Dream.* Said the old man. *Weaving spiders come not here. Beetles black approach not near, something or other. It means we don't want outsiders to meddle in our affairs, boy.*
*Gat dangit pop.* Junior spouted. *Don't call me boy. I was the gat dang president too you know. I hanged Saddam for you cryin' out loud.* Junior trailed off as he pulled frustratedly at his necktie.
*George, George. Both of you just calm down.* An old woman interrupted. *This night is supposed to be a happy occasion.*
*Alright Babs.*
*Alright mama.*
By that time the convoy had reached a clearing with a small circular lake. In the center of the lake was a large stone platform. The armored trucks slowed to a stop. Junior quickly reached for the door handle.
Stopping him before he could open the door, in a stern southern accent, a woman said *Ah, ah, ah... You know you have to wait, silly.*
*Good job, Laura.* Said George from the forward seats. *You know how to keep our boy in check.*
Junior groaned and fidgeted in his seat.
----
*He's late.* Announced from the silence of the far back seats in a raspy southern drawl. *You know, he's always late.*
*Can it Bill.* Hillary said.
*Oh, that's right. You two are all buddy buddy now.* Bill said with a chuckle.
A voice came over the driver's radio. *All clear*
The door swung open and Junior hopped out. He stretched his arms up and yawned, daunted by the long drive from the airfield.
*Make way, dummy* Said Bill as he climbed out from the back seat and pushed Junior stumbling to the side.
George got out from the front and walked back to the rear passenger door on his side. He opened it and offered his hand to help Barbera and Laura down from the high step.
The doors of the third truck at the back of the convoy popped open and a short man climbed out. He looked up at the second truck and grunted.
*Hey, it's Dick!* Junior spouted with excitement as he jogged over to greet the man.
*Eh, hold on Georgie* Dick said to Junior as he reached back into the armored truck.
A sad voice whimpered from inside *I don't like it when you do this! You know I don't like it but you always do it.*
Bill walked over. *Haha, they bagged you again?*
*Willy? Willy, is that you? It's me, Al. Can you hear me?*
*Course I can hear you, Al.* Bill laughed. *I can see you too. I aint the one with a bag over my head.*
*You can take it off now, dipshit. We're here.* Dick muttered as he walked away to greet the others, Junior bouncing around in tow.
*Hey, where's Danny?* Al said as he took the black bag off of his head. *Was he in the truck with us?* Al leaned back to look, but Bill took him by the arm.
*Old Quayle aint around no more.* Bill said. *You didn't hear about that?*
*What happened to hi-*Al started to ask, but he stopped himself. *Never mind. Don't ask questions, Al. You don't like the answers. Don't ask questions.* He repeated to himself quietly.
----
*Alright, fellas. He's on his way.* George said as the group gathered.
The presidents turned and began walking down to the lake.
*Hey, you wait right there, sugar.* Bill said to Hillary. *You got a little while, yet... And that's only if you're good.*
Hillary scowled at him as he followed George and Junior. Standing behind her, Dick scowled at Al, though Al couldn't imagine the reason. Laura and Barbera, off to the side, smiled at each other.
*Ey, daddy.* Junior whispered to George, elbowing him as they walked side by side down to the lake. *How do you know he's almost here?*
*You would know too, if you paid attention for a damn second.* George said, annoyed. *Now you remember what to do, right boy? Go get on the other side of Bill.*
*Yeah, pop. I got it.* Junior said as he began to remove his tie.
----
The men began to take off their clothes, carefully folding their jackets and pants and placing them on the dry ground by the water's edge.
Where's Number One, George? Bill asked as they stood there, together, naked.
*He'll come down when he has to.* George said looking up at the night sky.
Bill looked over at Junior, glanced down and then back up, then let out an audible snicker.
*You shut up!* Junior said, embarrassed, punching Bill in the arm.
*He didn't get that from me.* George said, still looking up at the stars. *Alright, here we go.*.
Three helicopters passed low and fast in formation over the lake. George waved over to the middle truck as the choppers circled around above them.
The doors of the armored truck swung open and out stepped Ronald Reagan, nude, majestic. The other presidents cheered. Bill shot him a wolf-whistle. Reagan laughed and waved him off as he started walking down to the lake.
*Don't be afraid to see what you see, boys.* Reagan shouted on the walk down.
They all laughed, then turned to the lake and began to walk into the water. Reagan stopped at the water's edge and watched the three men walk deeper and deeper into the lake. Reagan followed down into the water. Walking, until he was completely submerged.
There was silence for a few moments. The others, still watching from the edge of the woods. Al leaned toward Dick, motioning for Dick to lean in as well. Dick shook his head *no*.
*But I have to ask you a question!* Al whispered impatiently.
*No, god damn it.* Dick grumbled back to him. *Be quiet.*
*Fine.* Al said.
The helicopters slowed to a hover high above the still and quiet lake. The former presidents still nowhere to be seen. The door to the middle helicopter slid open and a shadowy figure appeared, silhouetted by the red lights inside. He dove from the helicopter down into the lake, barely making a splash. The helicopters pulled away and disappeared into the distance. The lake fell still again, no one to be seen.
----
Slowly a head emerges from the lake. Reagan's stark black hair, completely dry, somehow seemingly untouched by the water. Then George began to rise up from the depths. Then Bill, then Junior. The presidents all rose above the water's surface, nude, arms outstretched, suspended in mid air.
They hovered over the altar, and gently touched down, the four of them facing the empty fifth space.
Then the shadowy figure began to rise up out of the lake. He slowly came to rest in the fifth position of the pentagram. As his feet touched down, Barack looked over at Bill, glanced down and then back up, and audibly snickered.
*Hehehe.* Junior chuckled.
*You shut up.* Bill said to Junior.
George did his best to hide his smile.
----
Embers began to appear out of thin air, floating around them. Little bits of orange light, moving with the breeze across the calm lake. More sparks of ash and fire danced back and forth as the embers began to fill the air. The men stepped toward the center of the altar and took each other's hands.
Before long a swirling tornado of fire had surrounded them. The flames of the inferno flicked up toward the night sky. Wind rushed inward through the trees from all sides toward the flaming altar, and suddenly an explosion of black smoke engulfed the lake.
When the smoke cleared, the men stood there facing each other in full suits and ties. They didn't say a word. They just looked at each other, content with their ritual.
Dick leaned over to Hillary and whispered *It is done. Now they must feed.*
Hillary nodded. *I will bring them the children.*
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[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
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The Reaper was put on the stand to make a final case for before his verdict, he stood up from his table and walked to the booth. He viewed the jury, he had quite a task set out for him.
"Mr. Grim, are you prepared to swear your oaths?" The judge asked.
"Of course," he stated as he put his hand on the Bible set in front of him."I promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."
"Alright, you may begin your testimony." The judge allowed.
"People of the jury, I fear that you don't really understand me." The Reaper stated as he paced across the floor,"You have all been lead to believe that I am the one who kills, that I am the most prolific killer in history, the being responsible for every death that's ever happened. From your childhood dog, to Abraham Lincoln. But that's not true. I don't kill, I only welcome the dead."
The Grim Reaper took a pause for a few moments for his last sentence to sink in, the courtroom was silent and everyone stared at the hooded figure standing before them.
"You see, when people die, they just die. Whether it be from heart disease or car accidents. They die, and I introduce them to the afterlife. I guide them across the river, and I make sure that they are okay. I am not the devil, I am a tour guide. Your loved ones have all met me, and they've all been helped by me, I let their loved ones know things that they never could."
The crowd was beginning to whisper with disbelief, eyebrows knit and scowls forming.
"You've all been taught by the media and novels that I AM death, but in reality I am only a result of death. You over there," He said as he pointed to Juror #5,"Your brother Tom, he died from cancer 13 years ago, I met him, and he told me to tell you that he forgave you for Christmas '97, you remember that don't you? That dream two weeks after he died, when he came to you and told you that he was okay? I helped him do that."
Juror #5 blinked in confusion and whisper under her breath, "Oh, my god." She relaxed against the back of her chair as if a weight had been lifted.
"In conclusion," The Reaper proclaimed, "I do not cause the ones that you love to die, but I make sure that they do not die with unfinished business."
The courthouse was completely silent, no one said a word as the Reaper sat back down. The judge called the jury for deliberation, and they retired to the jury room to decide his fate.
|
"ORDER GOD DAMNIT, I WILL SEE ORDER!" The judge screamed over the yelling of those in the courtroom. Why was he chosen for this god forsaken case.
How could they even catch death, he wondered. Judge Zachary wiped his forehead, he was very good at hiding his fear and nervousness but not today. This wasn't in the United States jurisdiction, it was in the UN's. World leaders arguing, goddamn politics.
Judge Zachary cleared his throat after the noise died down, he stared at death. Death had no certain form, however he liked how we depicted him, as a dean man in a robe, holding a scythe. He changed his robe from tattered grey to orange. How appropriate.
" Death, what is your opinion of the crimes set against you, and do you think they are true?"
Death looked up, well, his hood did, there was nothing under his hood, just a deep, darkness that chilled all those who looked at him.
"They are fair, but they must continue."
His voice was a deep, low, echoing voice, it was composed of the billions of voices of those he killed.
"You must pay for your crimes, Death, no exceptions"
"You do not unde-"
He was cut off by a reporter, who pulled a gun out of his camera, cleverly hidden, and then he rushed death.
"THIS IS FOR MY WIFE AND KIDS YOU FUCK!"
He fired his mag, but to no visible reaction by death.
No one moved, not even the guards, everyone just watched Death for his reaction. Death slowly rose, and walked to the man, who backed up in fear.
"NO PLEASE, NO"
The scythe moved near his throat, ready to pierce
"I'm sorry, Ryan, But everything is planned, who I let die, and why. And I must go continue my work, goodbye, Ryan"
And then Death pulled his Scythe back, and swung it towards Ryan, ready to kill, while he laughed manically, the disappeared just before killing Ryan.
"Court......... Is adjourned."
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[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
|
The Grim Reaper was using his scythe to pick his nails as the jury, sat quivering in their seats. In fact, everyone except the General Attorney was shivering with some form of cold, unfound fear of the hooded figure. *pick pick pick*, as his nicked off a bit of dirt under his nails. It was odd really, literally having no flesh, and only bone, but also having nails.
I suppose he had to bide his time as well.
Everyone rose as Judge Hawken walked in. He looked at Death with an odd glance, almost ashamed to look. "Please be seated."
He was an elderly man, but no sign of deterioration came with it. He had a powerful, deep and almost luxurious voice as he commanded the Grim Reaper to rise.
"Grim Reaper. We have historically have allowed the persecuted an attempt to defend one's self in allowing them to be capture and hold themselves above their crimes. Today, we cannot afford that luxury. In addition, because you pledge no allegiance to any state, nation or race, we will not hold you to the truth. We merely hope that the words you say today will ring true for us tomorrow."
He pushed up his glasses. Grim put down the scythe and stood, six feet tall of bone. He looked at the judge.
"Your time of reckoning has come. There is no trial today, but merely the death of Alan J. Hawken, Judge of mankind and fighter against injustice. I am sorry to deceive you in such a manner. I have come to collect your life today."
Silence. Then a single shout. "Murderer!"
And when the last snowflake falls, the avalanche begins. The yelling, shouting and incessant vulgarities that were thrown at him were endless, unstoppable. Grim simply stared at the crowd for a moment before he picked up his scythe, and hit it against the floor.
A deadly silence and cold echoed the building. People grew white as the scythe ran red with blood, dripping thick, viscous drops. His gaze returned to the judge.
"Alan J. Hawken." His name. That was all. The indicator of the individual, the dying.
It was true though. Judge Hawken had been suffering from a pain on the left side of his brain. Little did he know, it was a sign that an aneurysm was inbound.
His final look only reflected the sorrow of a gatekeeper. "Collect."
And that was it. There was no trial that day, only the sad end to an incomplete story. Grim was never seen after that moment.
Some say that it was because the Judge has sinned, or that it was a hoax. The simple and short of it was, the Grim Reaper needed a replacement. All that begins must end, including the ferryman, the gatekeeper, the Grim Reaper.
And so it was, Alan J. Hawken died, but was born anew, as the Grim Reaper.
He had become Death, unto the world.
|
"ORDER GOD DAMNIT, I WILL SEE ORDER!" The judge screamed over the yelling of those in the courtroom. Why was he chosen for this god forsaken case.
How could they even catch death, he wondered. Judge Zachary wiped his forehead, he was very good at hiding his fear and nervousness but not today. This wasn't in the United States jurisdiction, it was in the UN's. World leaders arguing, goddamn politics.
Judge Zachary cleared his throat after the noise died down, he stared at death. Death had no certain form, however he liked how we depicted him, as a dean man in a robe, holding a scythe. He changed his robe from tattered grey to orange. How appropriate.
" Death, what is your opinion of the crimes set against you, and do you think they are true?"
Death looked up, well, his hood did, there was nothing under his hood, just a deep, darkness that chilled all those who looked at him.
"They are fair, but they must continue."
His voice was a deep, low, echoing voice, it was composed of the billions of voices of those he killed.
"You must pay for your crimes, Death, no exceptions"
"You do not unde-"
He was cut off by a reporter, who pulled a gun out of his camera, cleverly hidden, and then he rushed death.
"THIS IS FOR MY WIFE AND KIDS YOU FUCK!"
He fired his mag, but to no visible reaction by death.
No one moved, not even the guards, everyone just watched Death for his reaction. Death slowly rose, and walked to the man, who backed up in fear.
"NO PLEASE, NO"
The scythe moved near his throat, ready to pierce
"I'm sorry, Ryan, But everything is planned, who I let die, and why. And I must go continue my work, goodbye, Ryan"
And then Death pulled his Scythe back, and swung it towards Ryan, ready to kill, while he laughed manically, the disappeared just before killing Ryan.
"Court......... Is adjourned."
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[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
|
The Grim Reaper was using his scythe to pick his nails as the jury, sat quivering in their seats. In fact, everyone except the General Attorney was shivering with some form of cold, unfound fear of the hooded figure. *pick pick pick*, as his nicked off a bit of dirt under his nails. It was odd really, literally having no flesh, and only bone, but also having nails.
I suppose he had to bide his time as well.
Everyone rose as Judge Hawken walked in. He looked at Death with an odd glance, almost ashamed to look. "Please be seated."
He was an elderly man, but no sign of deterioration came with it. He had a powerful, deep and almost luxurious voice as he commanded the Grim Reaper to rise.
"Grim Reaper. We have historically have allowed the persecuted an attempt to defend one's self in allowing them to be capture and hold themselves above their crimes. Today, we cannot afford that luxury. In addition, because you pledge no allegiance to any state, nation or race, we will not hold you to the truth. We merely hope that the words you say today will ring true for us tomorrow."
He pushed up his glasses. Grim put down the scythe and stood, six feet tall of bone. He looked at the judge.
"Your time of reckoning has come. There is no trial today, but merely the death of Alan J. Hawken, Judge of mankind and fighter against injustice. I am sorry to deceive you in such a manner. I have come to collect your life today."
Silence. Then a single shout. "Murderer!"
And when the last snowflake falls, the avalanche begins. The yelling, shouting and incessant vulgarities that were thrown at him were endless, unstoppable. Grim simply stared at the crowd for a moment before he picked up his scythe, and hit it against the floor.
A deadly silence and cold echoed the building. People grew white as the scythe ran red with blood, dripping thick, viscous drops. His gaze returned to the judge.
"Alan J. Hawken." His name. That was all. The indicator of the individual, the dying.
It was true though. Judge Hawken had been suffering from a pain on the left side of his brain. Little did he know, it was a sign that an aneurysm was inbound.
His final look only reflected the sorrow of a gatekeeper. "Collect."
And that was it. There was no trial that day, only the sad end to an incomplete story. Grim was never seen after that moment.
Some say that it was because the Judge has sinned, or that it was a hoax. The simple and short of it was, the Grim Reaper needed a replacement. All that begins must end, including the ferryman, the gatekeeper, the Grim Reaper.
And so it was, Alan J. Hawken died, but was born anew, as the Grim Reaper.
He had become Death, unto the world.
|
"Death?, what is this death you speak of?"
"What do you mean sir, you are the Grim Reaper right?"
"That is what you call me, though i have many names."
"Well you were named as such because you seemed to have something to do with the dieing process, legends claim you bring the souls to the afterlife."
"I do."
"Could you state for the record your exact purpose?"
"This will take some explaining.
When beings from beyond our plane invaded the Garden of Eden we were forced to expel all souls to stop them from being consumed of destroyed by accident as god unleashed his wrath.
While we eventually won the war it was at a cost, god was forced to hold the breach closed from outside our plane, and Eden was in ruins, me and only a few other beings escaped relatively unharmed.
We have spend eons rebuilding Eden for the day we could repopulate it again, but when we opened portals to here we were horrified to find souls had ceased their timeless existence for vessels of flesh, luckily we were able to separate you in time before your forms became permanent and your souls became stuck in this plane.
Now while we would have liked to bring everyone over at ones, the portals we can used are limited now that god is occupied.
Me I'm the one doing the soul collecting, i go to any point where the bond between flesh and soul loosens and break you out, most of the time i wait for you to loosen it yourself, but when a large portal is possible i have been known to help things on its way.
"Help on its way how?"
"Nudge an asteroid here, modify a disease there, hell i even tried telling people, Aztec's were quite helpful in that regard, but i found limiting my presence tends to be for the best, both because people mistake me for god and because killing to many slows down the process in the long run."
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[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
|
The Reaper had been convicted on all counts. He was facing a minimum mandatory sentence of 400 years. The jury looked around the court room with satisfied smirks on all of their faces.
This marked the end of humanity. For without death there could be no rebirth. Before long the world was littered with mounds of ancient peoples too old and decrepit to function, their minds rotted with time. All the while the Reaper silently laughed from his confinement.
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The brave men who led the trial have decided to... keep the Grim Reaper alive and locked, for no other punishment would be cruel enough for this twisted entity than to know that humanity will never fear him anymore.
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[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
|
“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“The truth is all I do,” Grimm Reaper replies.
“A simple yes or no answer will suffice, Mr. Reaper.” The judge interjects.
“Then, yes.”
“Council, your witness.”
“Mr. Reaper, can you explain your involvement with the deaths of…everyone?” the lawyer asks.
“You see, it’s quite simple really. You probably learned it in kindergarten. You can’t have a top without a bottom, a left without a right, an up without a down and a beginning without an end. There would not be life if I weren’t around.
For it is because of me that you have experienced every smile and every tear. I am the reason you have the ability to stand there and question me today.”
“Why do cause such hurt?” the lawyer asks.
“Have you not heard what I said? How would you know pain and sorrow, if you didn’t first know pleasure, and joy?” Grim Reaper responds.
“I’ll ask the questions here. Why have you killed so many?”
“By providing an expiration date, I give your life meaning. Time would be squandered if it weren’t for the limited moments you have here.”
And at that moment, because the author has no idea where the story should go, Grim fades away.
|
The brave men who led the trial have decided to... keep the Grim Reaper alive and locked, for no other punishment would be cruel enough for this twisted entity than to know that humanity will never fear him anymore.
|
|
[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
|
How do you capture a primordial force of the cosmos? The short answer is, you don't.
The long answer is much the same.
You see, Death was never an integral function. We were meant to live forever, reaching near and far across the breadth of all we could dare to imagine, growing in wit to match our age. But we were not the first. The oldest felt our presence to be a challenge to their status quo, and being far more cunning, far more wise, and far more cruel in nature, the Grim Reaper set forth on a genocide against the human race.
And so we faltered. We aged beneath those hollow eyes, withered before the ever-present stalker in our shadows, and died as the chains of mortality were tethered around our necks.
But the Reaper was patient, and that was their undoing. Cruelty and longing intermingled, such that our ends were invariably horrible, anguishing, worthy of song and legend that we would remember them by.
We, too, learned patience, amidst all of the atrocities subtly acquired. It was part of our original function. We could *grow*.
And we *did*.
Though it took untold centuries, a plethora of millennium, we, on the whole, as a collective species, developed the wherewithal and the insight to match the Grim Reaper, and in so doing snapped the yoke with which we had been manipulated.
So how do you capture a primordial force of the cosmos? You figure out that it's just another lie told by another, older being. We captured Death in a figurative bottle and then in a literal parse in time, and held then a trial for the wanton acts committed against our own species.
It was, though swift, just, and satisfying, not an unfair judgment. We let Death speak. We learned all of the missing *why*'s, the greatest of which, now inscribed upon Death's own headstone as epitaph, is still the most sickening.
"Because I could."
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The brave men who led the trial have decided to... keep the Grim Reaper alive and locked, for no other punishment would be cruel enough for this twisted entity than to know that humanity will never fear him anymore.
|
|
[WP] The Grim Reaper is put on trial for his hand in the death of 100+ billion humans
|
“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?”
“The truth is all I do,” Grimm Reaper replies.
“A simple yes or no answer will suffice, Mr. Reaper.” The judge interjects.
“Then, yes.”
“Council, your witness.”
“Mr. Reaper, can you explain your involvement with the deaths of…everyone?” the lawyer asks.
“You see, it’s quite simple really. You probably learned it in kindergarten. You can’t have a top without a bottom, a left without a right, an up without a down and a beginning without an end. There would not be life if I weren’t around.
For it is because of me that you have experienced every smile and every tear. I am the reason you have the ability to stand there and question me today.”
“Why do cause such hurt?” the lawyer asks.
“Have you not heard what I said? How would you know pain and sorrow, if you didn’t first know pleasure, and joy?” Grim Reaper responds.
“I’ll ask the questions here. Why have you killed so many?”
“By providing an expiration date, I give your life meaning. Time would be squandered if it weren’t for the limited moments you have here.”
And at that moment, because the author has no idea where the story should go, Grim fades away.
|
The Reaper had been convicted on all counts. He was facing a minimum mandatory sentence of 400 years. The jury looked around the court room with satisfied smirks on all of their faces.
This marked the end of humanity. For without death there could be no rebirth. Before long the world was littered with mounds of ancient peoples too old and decrepit to function, their minds rotted with time. All the while the Reaper silently laughed from his confinement.
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Feel free to do whatever with the human's decisions, enslave everyone, colonize, disaster relief, etc. I look forward to your posts!
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[WP] Humanity is not alone in the universe, but they are "Late to the party", arriving at the waning end of an intergalactic war leaving the galaxy in ruins.
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*They came like angels from the depths of uncharted space. White ships descending upon war-torn systems, packed with instruments to mend the soil and filters to clean the water. When met with us, we who have bickered, fought, and slaughtered, these new beings did not join the violence, they offered aid. They wanted to feed our hungry, trade with our crippled economy. They wanted to share what we had fought so hard to claim as our own. Our own and only our own. They arrived at planets coated in the remains of a billion lost souls, with cities propped up by what remained of their foundation and scorched with the hellfire of war. They looked at this, not with disdain, not with rage, but with wonder. The wonder of Humanity that brought an end to the war...*
Michelle Rodriguez exited the ship cautiously, her team members following closely behind her. The alien ruins surrounding them had so many earthly tones to the architecture, and yet still the fact remained that they were many light years from earth, and these were the ruins of a civilization much older than humanity. The skeletons of skyscrapers, paved roads, rectangular doorways. Though it was all cast in a dark, purplish color, much like a human city might be all gray or tan. What vehicles remained strewn about were charred black, scattered against the pavement.
"Jesus, must have been a blood bath." Marcus Franklin, Michelle's assistant said.
"Hush." Michelle whispered over the radio, "Careful what you say."
"Look!" Another voice shouted.
Michelle spotted the dark figure peering out from an empty window. The words caught in her throat- the first alien creature she had seen face to face. Transmissions and data discovered had told them much about the history of this region of space. The many hundreds of species that have roamed here, nearly wiped from existence in a war that had cost the alien civilization just about everything. She had spent hours learning languages, phrases, anything she might use to communicate but that knowledge seemed to escape her now.
"H-Hello there." She said, she fumbled around her neck and opened the microphone so her voice could travel beyond her suit, "Hello there." She repeated.
The creature stepped around the shattered walls of the building. It was shorter than the average human, perhaps four and a half feet in height. It was humanoid in appearance. Two legs, two arms. It had dark gray skin and black eyes, and wore what appeared to be a deep red jump suit. It approached the team with a similar amount of caution. "Human?" It asked, looking from the team members and then to their bone-white ship.
"Yes. Yes Human." Michelle replied. A moment later she was standing face to face with the creature, she knelt down to avoid looming over it. She placed a hand to her chest, "Human."
The creatures narrow lips parted, revealing tiny spike like blue teeth. It seemed to look Michelle up and down. It suddenly extended its four fingered hand. "Human." It said.
Michelle tried not to jump back from the hand, she looked at it for a moment with wide eyes, then realized what the creature was asking. She smiled and took the creatures hand in hers- a hand shake.
The creature seemed delighted. Clearly it had heard of the humans before. It jumped up and turned to the building it had come out of where now even more faces appeared in the windows and blast hole openings. Its native voice was full of chirps and whistles.
"Get the water purifiers." Michelle said. Her heart thumping in her chest as she watched the creatures form a line in front of her, each waiting for a chance to shake the Humans hand.
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"First Prefect, report."
Prefect Zorg stood before the United Council of Planets, a rather boring group of individuals whose sole duty was relegated to making small problems bigger problems. No but seriously, nothing good ever came out of these meetings.
Zorg proceeded to the foot of the dais, his papers making those annoying little crinkly noises in the slight breeze. It was hot, Zorg decided, for a council meeting chamber. Why was it so hot? He stepped up to the microphone, and glanced to a technical table, where a bored engineer looking boringly at him to begin talking.
"Ahem." It was unnecessary to clear his throat, but Zorg was slightly tense and this felt like a good way to break the ice. "First Prefect Zorg Mammot reporting on the colonization and wartime efforts of the Terran Race." He cleared his throat again, a bit quieter this time, and took a sip of water.
"The Organized Parties of Galactic People's Republics" - these *titles* Zorg thought - "Have decreed peace with the... Earth People." Much simpler. "They have colonized the fourth planet in their system, they call it Mars. Their ships are simple and slow."
Councilman Bloerd leaned forward. In a gruff, slow, and *boring* voice, he interrupted Zorg. "If they are so slow and simple, why was peace declared?"
Zorg looked at the ugly pile of tentacles and cocked an eyebrow. "Because, Councilman. We have literally nothing to fight with."
"I'm sorry?" Bloerd looked less bored at this statement.
Zorg rolled his four eyes, while his fifth glared. "The Council never approved the construction of wartime vessels, so all we have are supply and transport ships. We could challenge the Earth People to a *race,* we are at least faster than them."
Bloerd chuckled. "*THAT* meeting is scheduled for it's seventeenth hearing next week, Prefect. Don't overstep your bounds."
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Feel free to do whatever with the human's decisions, enslave everyone, colonize, disaster relief, etc. I look forward to your posts!
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[WP] Humanity is not alone in the universe, but they are "Late to the party", arriving at the waning end of an intergalactic war leaving the galaxy in ruins.
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**Captains log: entry 1**
I realise I never actually kept the log I was meant to, but never too late to start, right? It also might explain things better then I will in person, so here goes, from the start
It had all happened so fast. One day some rice farmer found a chunk of metal while digging a hole, the next the world was nearly at war over this alien ship. An inter-national committee was formed to decide what was the best course of action for humanity. There was always a committee.
So the wreck was analysed and tinkered with and reverse-engineered into the Starship Columbus. A crew of just over two hundred was assembled, lead the brilliant Commander Nikolai Vanko, Russia's finest man. Incidentally not brilliant enough not to walk into a depressurised part of the ship four months in. So I, his first Lieutenant, was promoted to commander, against my will I'd like to add.
Fast Forward two years and we were there, planet Kepler-894b, or Mehtaap to the locals, like I give a crap. We opened a channel with the main governing force there, and funnily enough, the multi-trillion dollar translator wasn't turned on. The Mehtaapian (Mehtaaps?) had their own. It didn't, however, convert metaphors, so that's where it all went wrong.
I guess in their language, branch more brings to mind a cudgel than a symbol of peace, so the whole olive branch thing gave off the wrong vibe, and I guess describing to them about and comparing us to the Vikings discovering America (I don't give a shit about the ship name, they got there first) was a bad idea because, you know... pillaging. To wrap it all up, they just suffered a little mutually assured destruction on a galactic scale. All in all they were all to happy give up without a fight. Before we could explain, it sort of dominoed and three other species have surrendered.
You'd think controlling most of the Galaxy would be a good thing, but we don't even know what these things eat, never mind how to organise food rationing for them. And to cap it off, they keep sending me concubines, which isn't bad in it's self, but they reproduce telepathically, so I'm just getting a head ache.
Basically we're going to try and slip away before they notice. I'm sending this log entry ahead so you can get all the anger out of your system and not try us for desertion. Hopefully.
**Entry End**
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"First Prefect, report."
Prefect Zorg stood before the United Council of Planets, a rather boring group of individuals whose sole duty was relegated to making small problems bigger problems. No but seriously, nothing good ever came out of these meetings.
Zorg proceeded to the foot of the dais, his papers making those annoying little crinkly noises in the slight breeze. It was hot, Zorg decided, for a council meeting chamber. Why was it so hot? He stepped up to the microphone, and glanced to a technical table, where a bored engineer looking boringly at him to begin talking.
"Ahem." It was unnecessary to clear his throat, but Zorg was slightly tense and this felt like a good way to break the ice. "First Prefect Zorg Mammot reporting on the colonization and wartime efforts of the Terran Race." He cleared his throat again, a bit quieter this time, and took a sip of water.
"The Organized Parties of Galactic People's Republics" - these *titles* Zorg thought - "Have decreed peace with the... Earth People." Much simpler. "They have colonized the fourth planet in their system, they call it Mars. Their ships are simple and slow."
Councilman Bloerd leaned forward. In a gruff, slow, and *boring* voice, he interrupted Zorg. "If they are so slow and simple, why was peace declared?"
Zorg looked at the ugly pile of tentacles and cocked an eyebrow. "Because, Councilman. We have literally nothing to fight with."
"I'm sorry?" Bloerd looked less bored at this statement.
Zorg rolled his four eyes, while his fifth glared. "The Council never approved the construction of wartime vessels, so all we have are supply and transport ships. We could challenge the Earth People to a *race,* we are at least faster than them."
Bloerd chuckled. "*THAT* meeting is scheduled for it's seventeenth hearing next week, Prefect. Don't overstep your bounds."
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[WP] After spending years in college studying to get your law degree, you are now a brand new lawyer and you've been hired by Satan himself to be his defense attorney. You are now, quite literally, the devil's advocate.
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I took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then exhaled. The hot air of the sauna opened my pores and helped me think. I guess it couldn't be too bad, there are two sides to every story after all, and someone had to stick up for the side everyone loved to hate.
So that was it, I would do it. The facts were simple: I was a lawyer, I needed work, and before me stood a potential client who had been accused of and blamed for thousands of atrocities throughout the ages. Plus the pay and benefits were down right phenomenal.
After a quick shower I made my way over to my closet where a perfectly tailored suit had been ordered for me. Black pinstripe three piece suit, black silk shirt, thin red silk tie, black belt, black socks, jet black leather shoes (freshly polished of course), and a red pocket silk (to match the tie, it was the little things that made the difference). As I tightened the tie around my neck and tucked the pocket silk into the breast pocket of my jacket I couldn't help to think "Ya got to hand it to 'em, may be the representation of evil as we know it, but Satan knows how to look good." I picked up the briefcase that was provided and headed outside to the car that was waiting.
After arriving at the offices and going through the usual pleasantries I found myself seated at a table in an a conference room across the table from none other than Satan.
"So have you made a decision?"
"Yes, I am glad to accept your position, although I'm not sure about the title of Devil's advocate."
"Alright then, I'll just need you to sign this contract here"
"Sure, great, got a pen?"
"Buddy, this is me we are talking about, ya sign in blood."
"Right, of course."
Somewhat reluctantly I pricked my thumb with a needle and signed the paperwork in blood, selling my soul to the devil, but let's be honest, that still makes me a better person than most lawyers.
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"This is Satan?"
"Yes, Mr. Ronalds."
"Then I quit."
"You cannot do that."
"Yes I can. I quit. I have a right to quit."
"If you win, Douglas, then you will be rich. You will have won against God. Or the Mouthpiece of--"
"You think I care, Emily? I practice family law. I wanted to help kids in hard places. And this is the guy who makes daddy drink too much, that makes Mommy hit-- No. I won't do this. I have seen his work and I want nothing to do with it."
"You will regret this."
"No. I don't think I will."
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Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
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[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
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My first submission to Writing Prompts. Took me awhile to write so hopefully not submitting too late for people to read it.
Professor J: I came across an interesting conversation a tricorder captured. Apparently someone forgot to enable the daily auto-delete on local environment recording. I am including the transcript as a lesson in what NOT to do in completing your final project. I have replaced the student's names to protect the guilty. We will refer to them as 'Q' and 'C'.
Q: You look like death warmed over. Bad night?
C: You have no idea. I was literally up all night completing my Universal Final.
Q: But I saw you hanging out with Jenny at Hameed's party. I assumed you were finished.
C: No, I just couldn't move forward until the compiler banged out the initial background matter for the Universe. Figured I should take a break instead of staring at the screen.
Q: You could not have just started compiling last night, it would never finish in time. It takes serious time to compile an infinite universe. That's what infinite means.
C: Yeah, I knew that. So I made my universe finite.
Q: Finite, ha! What happens to matter that smacks into the edge, you would create a momentum paradox.
C: Well I fixed that by not having an edge! My universe is finite but it curves back in on itself thus creating an edgeless loop.
Q: OK that's clever... curving in on itself would force you to use an odd number of spacial dimension.
C: Which I did. I used three.
Q: Only three dimensions? Well damn, that's edgy.
C: <Groan> Pun intended?
Q: Of course. But seriously, you know a curved finite universe will not work. At some point on an infinite time line something will be accelerated to a speed where it is following itself too closely. It will start drafting on its own vortices in the space time continuum and set up a self propagating loop.
C: Yeah, I crashed my Universe three times before I finally found the solution. Have a speed limit!
Q: A speed limit on what?
C: On everything. Matter, light, propagation of force, everything. Nothing in my universe travels faster than 2.997x10^8 meters per second.
Q: 2.997x10^8 ? Why not just 3x10^8 ?
C: It was. I had a rounding error and didn't have time to correct it. Nevertheless I am very proud of my speed limit. I even named it after myself, 'C'. Nothing in my universe shall ever surpass C!
Q: And your megalomania once again rears its ugly head.
I still don't see how a universal speed limit can work. An edgeless universe has no center. What are you going to measure your speed relative to?
C: To anything else in the universe. No particle in my universe can move faster then C relative to any other particle.
Q: But that...it wouldn't... I mean that's SO wrong! There are so many ways that would violate logic. What if you are on a planet and two spaceships are approaching from opposite sides at speed C. They would each see the other spaceship as approaching at twice C.
C: I fixed that problem by distorting time as your speed approaches 'C'. The two space ships see each other as moving slower because I speed up their time perception relative to the person on the planet.
Q: Your universe distorts time!??!? That's even worse! That creates paradoxes in every...
C: .... which paradoxes I fixed by distorting length opposite the direction of travel. Everything flattens out if you travel to close to C.
Q: Supposing that could even work. Regardless of time or length as an accelerating object hits the speed limit its sudden stop would violate conservation of energy.
C: Which it did. That was the cause of universe crash #3. But I fixed that by having mass increase as you approach C. Now instead of smacking into the speed limit things just ease up to it as an object gets more and more massive thus harder and harder to accelerate.
Q: So time, distance, and mass. You threw out consistency of every measurable attribute just so you could have your speed limit?
C: Well -- charge is measurable in my universe too.
Q: Oh really?
C: But it also distorts as speed approaches C.
Q: Of course it does. You've heard that two wrongs don't make a right?
C: Yeah... but it turns out four wrong do! All the distortions cancel each other out and make it all work. It's really quite elegant. It's led to some really cool affects. Like if a star gets too big its escape velocity exceeds C so nothing can leave it. That includes light so it stops shinning and turns into this big black hole in space.
Q: A black hole?
C: Yes. I call them..... Negostars!
Q: <just stairs at him blankly>
C: I'm not dead set on the name. Maybe Death Stars?
Q: <shakes his head>
C: Spheres of Annihilation?
Why are you so judgmental anyway? You must have had to pull a few fast ones as you got down to the finer details.
Q: Actually I started working from the bottom up. I started by picking 32 flavors of quarks. I named them after the Andromadouse Pantheon.
C: Oh the professor will eat that up. So you have Zeuestra quark?
Q: And an Apollodonus quark, Demeteritos, Athenolus; right through the list. How did you name your quarks?
C: Well -- I didn't need alot of clever names because I only used six.
Q: Only six flavors of quark? Each must cover a lot of functions. What did you name them?
C: I went with a more simplistic naming system. I have up quarks, and down quarks. Top quarks and bottom quarks. And... strange quarks.
Q: Strange? You named a quark 'strange'?
C: Yeah, and ...sigh...charm quarks.
Q: Charm?... You named a sixth of the fundamental structural blocks of your reality 'charm'? What properties does the charm quark have? It can make friends easily at quark mixers? Oh wait, it can talk it's way out of traffic tickets if it exceeds C?
C: By the time I named my last quark...it was 5AM .... I was not at the height of mental creativity. I was eating a certain sugary breakfast cereal to try and wake up.
Q: But you can not support even a dozen fundamental forces with just 6 quarks. What did you end up using for forces?
C: Well Gravity of course.
Q: Of course.
C: And the Strong force and Electromagnetism.
Q: ...And?
C: No that's it. Three fundamental forces.
Q: Dude, you had to have at least four fundamental forces. That was like item two on the requirements list.
C: What?!?!?
Q: Yeah, four fundamental forces MINIMUM. You are so getting an 'F'.
C: NO! I can't--- I'll lose my scholarship!
Q: Oh man. And I was worried that I only had 14 fundamental forces.
C: I can fix this. [opens remote compiler interface] I'll just add another fundamental force. I can do it right now.
Q: You can not throw a new fundamental force into a completed universe. You're going to collapse your space time continuum into a sub-dimensional bubble of infinite layers.
C: I can. I WILL! It will just have to be a minor force. A really really weak force. [types furiously]
Q: Yes, add your weak force, I can feel its power even now. Its forcing the grading curve to shift in my favor.
C: Shut up. Let me concentrate. [continues typing]
Q: The professor is going to walk in any second and transmit a submit request. You're a dead man.
C: Shut up! [still typing]
Q: Hey, when they kick you off campus can I date Jenny? I mean, she'll be all lonely without you around.
C: [ignores him and continues typing]
Q: Jenny is quality girl. She has standards. You can't expect her to hang out with someone who flips burgers for a living.
C: Aaaaand I think I have it.
Q: So what will your weak force do.... is it a cubed increase in attraction as hot coeds approach your charm quarks? Oh-- I know, have it force two strange quarks that touch to self annihilate and create a 'goth quark'.
C: No, my fundamental "weak force" is a substep in the transmutation of quarks from one flavor to another. But it only manifests in the transmutation produced by the decay of nuclear particles. And just to be on the safe side I have set its range at less than one thousandth of the diameter of a single proton.
Q: Wow...that is...pitiful enough that it just might work.
But let me get this straight, you created a universe that curves in on itself so that its finite without an edge. Has a speed limit for everything that only works because you threw out conservation of length, mass and even time. And its most basic particles have names that even a boy band would find stupid.
C: That's right!
Q: You realize that no intelligent being would believe a universe could really work that way.
C: You just wait-- I bet I pull a C+!
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Our teacher glanced at his uninspired universe with contempt. "Your universe is inherently flawed," he said condescendingly, "Based on your model, it will inevitably collapse and expand seemingly forever. For that lack of oversight, your grade for this project will be a 'C'." The faces of his teammates, once lifted in anticipation, dissolved into a grimace of defeat and sorrow. In hushed whispers, each member spat out accusations as to whose lack of effort led to the unfortunate grade.
"I TOLD you guys it was because Jack couldn't figure out the gravity equations, seriously!"
"No it's not even that, it was doomed from the beginning. A universe created via cataclysmic explosions? I told you guys it'd never work."
"You're both wrong, we didn't spend enough time on the atomic level."
"...Well...I thought it was pretty good, anyways..."
The teacher moved on to the next project. As he approached, his eyebrow sublty lifted over his right eye, conveying earnest interest. "Please, explain the model of your universe to me," he said. I was the leader of our group, so the duty fell to me. I didn't choose the position, but rather had it thrust upon me by the unwilling majority. I stood and cleared my throat.
"Our model is simple, in design. We invented a universe based on the principle that matter is neither created, nor destroyed. It has always existed, and will continue to exist forever. We spaced out all of the galaxies so they might affect each other with the same amount of gravitational pull. As such, each galaxy takes a turn being in the center, before migrating outwards. There is no collapse and restart, just periods of time where every entity is asked to share the burden."
Then, I waited. My teacher walked around our model several times, leaning in occasionally to inspect one element or another more closely. I glanced over at my teammates who were nodding and smiling approvingly. After a moment, he stepped back.
"The design is solid, yet I must ask...where is all of the life? As far as I can see, none of these planets seem capable of producing any."
I could feel my heart sink into my stomach, as a slight pang of panic washed over my nerves. We had totally forgotten to add in that aspect. I looked at my team, all of whom were sharing the same look if fear.
"Well? I eagerly await your answer," my teacher remarked. I knew that if I said we had forgotten, we might end up in the 'C' grade given to the previous team.
"That's on purpose!" I blurted out. I could hear a gasp come from the collective classroom. Why would I say something like that? Of any answer I could have given, that was the stupidest.
"On purpose, you say? Please, elaborate."
"Well...we sorta figured that, you know, life as it evolved thus far hasn't really done anything to promote stability in any universe." I was bullshitting, and I knew it. "So, we thought maybe a perfect universe is one where that doesn't come into play. We figured that the absence of life, especially intelligent life, would keep our universe more in tact." At that, I had nothing left to say. I put a wager on the line, hoping that our teacher wouldn't find my newly crafted theory complete and utter garbage. He waited to speak for what seemed like an eternity. Sweat had made my hands all clammy, and my mouth was running dry.
"Your theory intrigues me, I award your team an 'A' for originality and creativity. I'd be very much interested to see how this universe plays out."
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Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
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[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
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God hurried into his physics classroom, his homework project in tow.
"Ah, God, better late than never."
"Sorry sir," God muttered, unpacking his project; a scale model of a universe, and placing it on his desk.
"Seeming as you are the last here, why don't you put that on Knob's desk over there, for everyone to see," Mr. Deus-Deorum said, the cold edge of a sneer lingering on his nasal voice.
God followed the instruction, and finished unpacking his laptop. He had run the tests last night, and was very proud of his universe.
Mr. Deus-Deorum had advised his class to focus on the way the celestial bodies behaved around the student's specified laws of physics - but God decided to add a little extra. He had selected a planet at random, and added life to it.
He spent ages micro-biologically engineering the intricate ecosystems on it, but there was something missing; real, sentient life.
So, he created a tiny little version of himself, and added a special somebody for his mini-me to procreate with. He gave them a few test-runs before freezing his universe in a state of suspended animation and removing his mini-me and its lady-friend from it. He had something special planned for how they'd emerge.
It was perfect.
Mr. Deus-Deorum thought otherwise.
"Eugh! This universe needs a good spray of disinfectant!" he exclaimed with utter disgust at seeing God's majestic giant lizards - he called them 'dinosaurs'.
"No no, you don't understand!" God said, putting himself in front of the tiny, beautiful planet.
He pulled out a small telescope, which he handed to Mr. Deus-Deorum, and a large red button.
"Disgusting!" his physics teacher said, peering at the miniscule lump of infested rock God fondly referred to as 'Earth'. Mr. Deus-Deorum was not a fan of micro-organisms.
"Watch," God said with an air of anticipation. He pushed the big red button, and a large meteor that was previously orbiting the nearby Sun reached its escape velocity and was headed straight towards Earth.
It hit with what was probably an almighty boom to the denizens of Earth, but to the class of super-colossal inter-universal adolescents and one highly disgusted high school teacher sounded like a brief and pathetic^hiss. The so-called 'dinosaurs' subsequently died in the blazing inferno, but when the ashes cleared, small furry animals began to emerge from the debris.
They developed hands and opposable thumbs, and began to pick things up. They were highly curious and sociable, but at times were ruthless and bloodthirsty.
Then they learned to construct and use tools. They began to stand upright, and there was God's mini-me. God had decided to make him and his partner immortal, so they could see the entire cycle of their world. As the mammals stood gradually more and more upright, a mass migration started across the little world. They survived through a freezing ice age, many resorting to cannibalism. Mr Deus-Deorum watched in morbid fascination. Some stayed put, building houses and inventing languages, and speculating about their existence. They killed each other over it.
Each century they invented new ways to kill each other more efficiently.
Some 1,914 years after the birth of a well-remembered man called Jesus, they went to war with each and every one of themselves. Millions died in their own filth, choking on pieces of their own breathing organs.
They didn't learn from these events. They did it all over again, just over ten years later, all at the hands of a crazy man with a very small moustache. He had devised a way to systematically kill people in factory-like facilities.
He was beaten though.
Peace did not remain. The victors began having a go at *each other*. They invented a horrific weapon that burned with the ferocity of the space rock that killed their lizard-like ancestors many aeons ago.
They only then began to realise the mistakes they had made. They tried to maintain the peace with a world-wide diplomatic force known as the UN.
Then they managed to leave the boundaries of their own planet. Mr. Deus-Deorum watched as the miniscule little rocket ship left their atmosphere, broke apart into two, and landed on their moon.
Mr Deus-Deorum pulled away from the telescope.
"I've seen enough. Take this C and leave my classroom."
"A C? But why?"
"Because I specifically told you to **only bother with the celestial bodies, not what's on them**."
"But I though that if-"
"I know exactly what you were thinking, God - you wanted to impress me - but let me tell you something: creating ruthless, destructive creatures in your own image leads to terrible things happening. Watch," he motioned towards Earth, and to God's horror, he saw that it was consumed with fire.
Everything was ablaze. It resembled a small star, burning hot for millennia. Except this star didn't burn for millennia. It burned for a few decades. All that was left was black ash.
"If I were you, I would've gone for something simple, like Knob's universe, here," he pointed at Knob's universe. It was small and wasn't indefinitely expanding. Stars didn't die, planets didn't leave their orbits and it was completely devoid of all life.
Knob grinned a grin that in every way said "I'm an absolute suck-up."
God packed his project away and left, a solitary tear rolling down his face. His class laughed and jeered at him, and he heard Knob mutter a joke about how God's behaviour resembled that of a cat.
*He really lives up to his name* God thought angrily as he stormed out of the school building and all the way home.
His mother wasn't home from work yet. This was good, as God absolutely hated the bitch.
He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and slumped onto his bed.
He decided to take one last look at his universe before he threw it away.
Carefully this time, he took the large cardboard box from his rucksack and removed the lid. He took out his laptop, and opened it up.
The script was still running, making sure the laws of physics were being followed.
God searched for the arm of the spiral galaxy he had chosen at random to be his paradise only yesterday.
He found it, and there sat the lump of floating ash that was left of Earth.
Only it was different this time; trees began to grow from the ashes, small, rodent-like creatures foraged about the place for food, and there was something orbiting it: a spaceship. God peered through one of the little portholes, and to his astonishment, he saw a miniature version of himself along with a beautiful woman staring back at him. He waved, and they waved back, and the rest of the human survivors waved back.
And so, the very next day God took his project to Mr Deus-Deorum and showed him how the humans had learned to live with each other's differences, and how they came back to Earth, and nurtured it, and life flourished on it for all eternity. Mr Deus-Deorum was impressed, and gave him an B+. It wasn't quite as good as Knob's grade, but God knew that his universe was leaps and bounds better than that pretentious prick's universe, and that was better than any grade in the universe.
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Our teacher glanced at his uninspired universe with contempt. "Your universe is inherently flawed," he said condescendingly, "Based on your model, it will inevitably collapse and expand seemingly forever. For that lack of oversight, your grade for this project will be a 'C'." The faces of his teammates, once lifted in anticipation, dissolved into a grimace of defeat and sorrow. In hushed whispers, each member spat out accusations as to whose lack of effort led to the unfortunate grade.
"I TOLD you guys it was because Jack couldn't figure out the gravity equations, seriously!"
"No it's not even that, it was doomed from the beginning. A universe created via cataclysmic explosions? I told you guys it'd never work."
"You're both wrong, we didn't spend enough time on the atomic level."
"...Well...I thought it was pretty good, anyways..."
The teacher moved on to the next project. As he approached, his eyebrow sublty lifted over his right eye, conveying earnest interest. "Please, explain the model of your universe to me," he said. I was the leader of our group, so the duty fell to me. I didn't choose the position, but rather had it thrust upon me by the unwilling majority. I stood and cleared my throat.
"Our model is simple, in design. We invented a universe based on the principle that matter is neither created, nor destroyed. It has always existed, and will continue to exist forever. We spaced out all of the galaxies so they might affect each other with the same amount of gravitational pull. As such, each galaxy takes a turn being in the center, before migrating outwards. There is no collapse and restart, just periods of time where every entity is asked to share the burden."
Then, I waited. My teacher walked around our model several times, leaning in occasionally to inspect one element or another more closely. I glanced over at my teammates who were nodding and smiling approvingly. After a moment, he stepped back.
"The design is solid, yet I must ask...where is all of the life? As far as I can see, none of these planets seem capable of producing any."
I could feel my heart sink into my stomach, as a slight pang of panic washed over my nerves. We had totally forgotten to add in that aspect. I looked at my team, all of whom were sharing the same look if fear.
"Well? I eagerly await your answer," my teacher remarked. I knew that if I said we had forgotten, we might end up in the 'C' grade given to the previous team.
"That's on purpose!" I blurted out. I could hear a gasp come from the collective classroom. Why would I say something like that? Of any answer I could have given, that was the stupidest.
"On purpose, you say? Please, elaborate."
"Well...we sorta figured that, you know, life as it evolved thus far hasn't really done anything to promote stability in any universe." I was bullshitting, and I knew it. "So, we thought maybe a perfect universe is one where that doesn't come into play. We figured that the absence of life, especially intelligent life, would keep our universe more in tact." At that, I had nothing left to say. I put a wager on the line, hoping that our teacher wouldn't find my newly crafted theory complete and utter garbage. He waited to speak for what seemed like an eternity. Sweat had made my hands all clammy, and my mouth was running dry.
"Your theory intrigues me, I award your team an 'A' for originality and creativity. I'd be very much interested to see how this universe plays out."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
My first submission to Writing Prompts. Took me awhile to write so hopefully not submitting too late for people to read it.
Professor J: I came across an interesting conversation a tricorder captured. Apparently someone forgot to enable the daily auto-delete on local environment recording. I am including the transcript as a lesson in what NOT to do in completing your final project. I have replaced the student's names to protect the guilty. We will refer to them as 'Q' and 'C'.
Q: You look like death warmed over. Bad night?
C: You have no idea. I was literally up all night completing my Universal Final.
Q: But I saw you hanging out with Jenny at Hameed's party. I assumed you were finished.
C: No, I just couldn't move forward until the compiler banged out the initial background matter for the Universe. Figured I should take a break instead of staring at the screen.
Q: You could not have just started compiling last night, it would never finish in time. It takes serious time to compile an infinite universe. That's what infinite means.
C: Yeah, I knew that. So I made my universe finite.
Q: Finite, ha! What happens to matter that smacks into the edge, you would create a momentum paradox.
C: Well I fixed that by not having an edge! My universe is finite but it curves back in on itself thus creating an edgeless loop.
Q: OK that's clever... curving in on itself would force you to use an odd number of spacial dimension.
C: Which I did. I used three.
Q: Only three dimensions? Well damn, that's edgy.
C: <Groan> Pun intended?
Q: Of course. But seriously, you know a curved finite universe will not work. At some point on an infinite time line something will be accelerated to a speed where it is following itself too closely. It will start drafting on its own vortices in the space time continuum and set up a self propagating loop.
C: Yeah, I crashed my Universe three times before I finally found the solution. Have a speed limit!
Q: A speed limit on what?
C: On everything. Matter, light, propagation of force, everything. Nothing in my universe travels faster than 2.997x10^8 meters per second.
Q: 2.997x10^8 ? Why not just 3x10^8 ?
C: It was. I had a rounding error and didn't have time to correct it. Nevertheless I am very proud of my speed limit. I even named it after myself, 'C'. Nothing in my universe shall ever surpass C!
Q: And your megalomania once again rears its ugly head.
I still don't see how a universal speed limit can work. An edgeless universe has no center. What are you going to measure your speed relative to?
C: To anything else in the universe. No particle in my universe can move faster then C relative to any other particle.
Q: But that...it wouldn't... I mean that's SO wrong! There are so many ways that would violate logic. What if you are on a planet and two spaceships are approaching from opposite sides at speed C. They would each see the other spaceship as approaching at twice C.
C: I fixed that problem by distorting time as your speed approaches 'C'. The two space ships see each other as moving slower because I speed up their time perception relative to the person on the planet.
Q: Your universe distorts time!??!? That's even worse! That creates paradoxes in every...
C: .... which paradoxes I fixed by distorting length opposite the direction of travel. Everything flattens out if you travel to close to C.
Q: Supposing that could even work. Regardless of time or length as an accelerating object hits the speed limit its sudden stop would violate conservation of energy.
C: Which it did. That was the cause of universe crash #3. But I fixed that by having mass increase as you approach C. Now instead of smacking into the speed limit things just ease up to it as an object gets more and more massive thus harder and harder to accelerate.
Q: So time, distance, and mass. You threw out consistency of every measurable attribute just so you could have your speed limit?
C: Well -- charge is measurable in my universe too.
Q: Oh really?
C: But it also distorts as speed approaches C.
Q: Of course it does. You've heard that two wrongs don't make a right?
C: Yeah... but it turns out four wrong do! All the distortions cancel each other out and make it all work. It's really quite elegant. It's led to some really cool affects. Like if a star gets too big its escape velocity exceeds C so nothing can leave it. That includes light so it stops shinning and turns into this big black hole in space.
Q: A black hole?
C: Yes. I call them..... Negostars!
Q: <just stairs at him blankly>
C: I'm not dead set on the name. Maybe Death Stars?
Q: <shakes his head>
C: Spheres of Annihilation?
Why are you so judgmental anyway? You must have had to pull a few fast ones as you got down to the finer details.
Q: Actually I started working from the bottom up. I started by picking 32 flavors of quarks. I named them after the Andromadouse Pantheon.
C: Oh the professor will eat that up. So you have Zeuestra quark?
Q: And an Apollodonus quark, Demeteritos, Athenolus; right through the list. How did you name your quarks?
C: Well -- I didn't need alot of clever names because I only used six.
Q: Only six flavors of quark? Each must cover a lot of functions. What did you name them?
C: I went with a more simplistic naming system. I have up quarks, and down quarks. Top quarks and bottom quarks. And... strange quarks.
Q: Strange? You named a quark 'strange'?
C: Yeah, and ...sigh...charm quarks.
Q: Charm?... You named a sixth of the fundamental structural blocks of your reality 'charm'? What properties does the charm quark have? It can make friends easily at quark mixers? Oh wait, it can talk it's way out of traffic tickets if it exceeds C?
C: By the time I named my last quark...it was 5AM .... I was not at the height of mental creativity. I was eating a certain sugary breakfast cereal to try and wake up.
Q: But you can not support even a dozen fundamental forces with just 6 quarks. What did you end up using for forces?
C: Well Gravity of course.
Q: Of course.
C: And the Strong force and Electromagnetism.
Q: ...And?
C: No that's it. Three fundamental forces.
Q: Dude, you had to have at least four fundamental forces. That was like item two on the requirements list.
C: What?!?!?
Q: Yeah, four fundamental forces MINIMUM. You are so getting an 'F'.
C: NO! I can't--- I'll lose my scholarship!
Q: Oh man. And I was worried that I only had 14 fundamental forces.
C: I can fix this. [opens remote compiler interface] I'll just add another fundamental force. I can do it right now.
Q: You can not throw a new fundamental force into a completed universe. You're going to collapse your space time continuum into a sub-dimensional bubble of infinite layers.
C: I can. I WILL! It will just have to be a minor force. A really really weak force. [types furiously]
Q: Yes, add your weak force, I can feel its power even now. Its forcing the grading curve to shift in my favor.
C: Shut up. Let me concentrate. [continues typing]
Q: The professor is going to walk in any second and transmit a submit request. You're a dead man.
C: Shut up! [still typing]
Q: Hey, when they kick you off campus can I date Jenny? I mean, she'll be all lonely without you around.
C: [ignores him and continues typing]
Q: Jenny is quality girl. She has standards. You can't expect her to hang out with someone who flips burgers for a living.
C: Aaaaand I think I have it.
Q: So what will your weak force do.... is it a cubed increase in attraction as hot coeds approach your charm quarks? Oh-- I know, have it force two strange quarks that touch to self annihilate and create a 'goth quark'.
C: No, my fundamental "weak force" is a substep in the transmutation of quarks from one flavor to another. But it only manifests in the transmutation produced by the decay of nuclear particles. And just to be on the safe side I have set its range at less than one thousandth of the diameter of a single proton.
Q: Wow...that is...pitiful enough that it just might work.
But let me get this straight, you created a universe that curves in on itself so that its finite without an edge. Has a speed limit for everything that only works because you threw out conservation of length, mass and even time. And its most basic particles have names that even a boy band would find stupid.
C: That's right!
Q: You realize that no intelligent being would believe a universe could really work that way.
C: You just wait-- I bet I pull a C+!
|
He didn't leave instructions on how to unite general relativity and quantum mechanics. I mean, that's a pretty dickish move, minus 20
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
God hurried into his physics classroom, his homework project in tow.
"Ah, God, better late than never."
"Sorry sir," God muttered, unpacking his project; a scale model of a universe, and placing it on his desk.
"Seeming as you are the last here, why don't you put that on Knob's desk over there, for everyone to see," Mr. Deus-Deorum said, the cold edge of a sneer lingering on his nasal voice.
God followed the instruction, and finished unpacking his laptop. He had run the tests last night, and was very proud of his universe.
Mr. Deus-Deorum had advised his class to focus on the way the celestial bodies behaved around the student's specified laws of physics - but God decided to add a little extra. He had selected a planet at random, and added life to it.
He spent ages micro-biologically engineering the intricate ecosystems on it, but there was something missing; real, sentient life.
So, he created a tiny little version of himself, and added a special somebody for his mini-me to procreate with. He gave them a few test-runs before freezing his universe in a state of suspended animation and removing his mini-me and its lady-friend from it. He had something special planned for how they'd emerge.
It was perfect.
Mr. Deus-Deorum thought otherwise.
"Eugh! This universe needs a good spray of disinfectant!" he exclaimed with utter disgust at seeing God's majestic giant lizards - he called them 'dinosaurs'.
"No no, you don't understand!" God said, putting himself in front of the tiny, beautiful planet.
He pulled out a small telescope, which he handed to Mr. Deus-Deorum, and a large red button.
"Disgusting!" his physics teacher said, peering at the miniscule lump of infested rock God fondly referred to as 'Earth'. Mr. Deus-Deorum was not a fan of micro-organisms.
"Watch," God said with an air of anticipation. He pushed the big red button, and a large meteor that was previously orbiting the nearby Sun reached its escape velocity and was headed straight towards Earth.
It hit with what was probably an almighty boom to the denizens of Earth, but to the class of super-colossal inter-universal adolescents and one highly disgusted high school teacher sounded like a brief and pathetic^hiss. The so-called 'dinosaurs' subsequently died in the blazing inferno, but when the ashes cleared, small furry animals began to emerge from the debris.
They developed hands and opposable thumbs, and began to pick things up. They were highly curious and sociable, but at times were ruthless and bloodthirsty.
Then they learned to construct and use tools. They began to stand upright, and there was God's mini-me. God had decided to make him and his partner immortal, so they could see the entire cycle of their world. As the mammals stood gradually more and more upright, a mass migration started across the little world. They survived through a freezing ice age, many resorting to cannibalism. Mr Deus-Deorum watched in morbid fascination. Some stayed put, building houses and inventing languages, and speculating about their existence. They killed each other over it.
Each century they invented new ways to kill each other more efficiently.
Some 1,914 years after the birth of a well-remembered man called Jesus, they went to war with each and every one of themselves. Millions died in their own filth, choking on pieces of their own breathing organs.
They didn't learn from these events. They did it all over again, just over ten years later, all at the hands of a crazy man with a very small moustache. He had devised a way to systematically kill people in factory-like facilities.
He was beaten though.
Peace did not remain. The victors began having a go at *each other*. They invented a horrific weapon that burned with the ferocity of the space rock that killed their lizard-like ancestors many aeons ago.
They only then began to realise the mistakes they had made. They tried to maintain the peace with a world-wide diplomatic force known as the UN.
Then they managed to leave the boundaries of their own planet. Mr. Deus-Deorum watched as the miniscule little rocket ship left their atmosphere, broke apart into two, and landed on their moon.
Mr Deus-Deorum pulled away from the telescope.
"I've seen enough. Take this C and leave my classroom."
"A C? But why?"
"Because I specifically told you to **only bother with the celestial bodies, not what's on them**."
"But I though that if-"
"I know exactly what you were thinking, God - you wanted to impress me - but let me tell you something: creating ruthless, destructive creatures in your own image leads to terrible things happening. Watch," he motioned towards Earth, and to God's horror, he saw that it was consumed with fire.
Everything was ablaze. It resembled a small star, burning hot for millennia. Except this star didn't burn for millennia. It burned for a few decades. All that was left was black ash.
"If I were you, I would've gone for something simple, like Knob's universe, here," he pointed at Knob's universe. It was small and wasn't indefinitely expanding. Stars didn't die, planets didn't leave their orbits and it was completely devoid of all life.
Knob grinned a grin that in every way said "I'm an absolute suck-up."
God packed his project away and left, a solitary tear rolling down his face. His class laughed and jeered at him, and he heard Knob mutter a joke about how God's behaviour resembled that of a cat.
*He really lives up to his name* God thought angrily as he stormed out of the school building and all the way home.
His mother wasn't home from work yet. This was good, as God absolutely hated the bitch.
He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and slumped onto his bed.
He decided to take one last look at his universe before he threw it away.
Carefully this time, he took the large cardboard box from his rucksack and removed the lid. He took out his laptop, and opened it up.
The script was still running, making sure the laws of physics were being followed.
God searched for the arm of the spiral galaxy he had chosen at random to be his paradise only yesterday.
He found it, and there sat the lump of floating ash that was left of Earth.
Only it was different this time; trees began to grow from the ashes, small, rodent-like creatures foraged about the place for food, and there was something orbiting it: a spaceship. God peered through one of the little portholes, and to his astonishment, he saw a miniature version of himself along with a beautiful woman staring back at him. He waved, and they waved back, and the rest of the human survivors waved back.
And so, the very next day God took his project to Mr Deus-Deorum and showed him how the humans had learned to live with each other's differences, and how they came back to Earth, and nurtured it, and life flourished on it for all eternity. Mr Deus-Deorum was impressed, and gave him an B+. It wasn't quite as good as Knob's grade, but God knew that his universe was leaps and bounds better than that pretentious prick's universe, and that was better than any grade in the universe.
|
He didn't leave instructions on how to unite general relativity and quantum mechanics. I mean, that's a pretty dickish move, minus 20
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
My first submission to Writing Prompts. Took me awhile to write so hopefully not submitting too late for people to read it.
Professor J: I came across an interesting conversation a tricorder captured. Apparently someone forgot to enable the daily auto-delete on local environment recording. I am including the transcript as a lesson in what NOT to do in completing your final project. I have replaced the student's names to protect the guilty. We will refer to them as 'Q' and 'C'.
Q: You look like death warmed over. Bad night?
C: You have no idea. I was literally up all night completing my Universal Final.
Q: But I saw you hanging out with Jenny at Hameed's party. I assumed you were finished.
C: No, I just couldn't move forward until the compiler banged out the initial background matter for the Universe. Figured I should take a break instead of staring at the screen.
Q: You could not have just started compiling last night, it would never finish in time. It takes serious time to compile an infinite universe. That's what infinite means.
C: Yeah, I knew that. So I made my universe finite.
Q: Finite, ha! What happens to matter that smacks into the edge, you would create a momentum paradox.
C: Well I fixed that by not having an edge! My universe is finite but it curves back in on itself thus creating an edgeless loop.
Q: OK that's clever... curving in on itself would force you to use an odd number of spacial dimension.
C: Which I did. I used three.
Q: Only three dimensions? Well damn, that's edgy.
C: <Groan> Pun intended?
Q: Of course. But seriously, you know a curved finite universe will not work. At some point on an infinite time line something will be accelerated to a speed where it is following itself too closely. It will start drafting on its own vortices in the space time continuum and set up a self propagating loop.
C: Yeah, I crashed my Universe three times before I finally found the solution. Have a speed limit!
Q: A speed limit on what?
C: On everything. Matter, light, propagation of force, everything. Nothing in my universe travels faster than 2.997x10^8 meters per second.
Q: 2.997x10^8 ? Why not just 3x10^8 ?
C: It was. I had a rounding error and didn't have time to correct it. Nevertheless I am very proud of my speed limit. I even named it after myself, 'C'. Nothing in my universe shall ever surpass C!
Q: And your megalomania once again rears its ugly head.
I still don't see how a universal speed limit can work. An edgeless universe has no center. What are you going to measure your speed relative to?
C: To anything else in the universe. No particle in my universe can move faster then C relative to any other particle.
Q: But that...it wouldn't... I mean that's SO wrong! There are so many ways that would violate logic. What if you are on a planet and two spaceships are approaching from opposite sides at speed C. They would each see the other spaceship as approaching at twice C.
C: I fixed that problem by distorting time as your speed approaches 'C'. The two space ships see each other as moving slower because I speed up their time perception relative to the person on the planet.
Q: Your universe distorts time!??!? That's even worse! That creates paradoxes in every...
C: .... which paradoxes I fixed by distorting length opposite the direction of travel. Everything flattens out if you travel to close to C.
Q: Supposing that could even work. Regardless of time or length as an accelerating object hits the speed limit its sudden stop would violate conservation of energy.
C: Which it did. That was the cause of universe crash #3. But I fixed that by having mass increase as you approach C. Now instead of smacking into the speed limit things just ease up to it as an object gets more and more massive thus harder and harder to accelerate.
Q: So time, distance, and mass. You threw out consistency of every measurable attribute just so you could have your speed limit?
C: Well -- charge is measurable in my universe too.
Q: Oh really?
C: But it also distorts as speed approaches C.
Q: Of course it does. You've heard that two wrongs don't make a right?
C: Yeah... but it turns out four wrong do! All the distortions cancel each other out and make it all work. It's really quite elegant. It's led to some really cool affects. Like if a star gets too big its escape velocity exceeds C so nothing can leave it. That includes light so it stops shinning and turns into this big black hole in space.
Q: A black hole?
C: Yes. I call them..... Negostars!
Q: <just stairs at him blankly>
C: I'm not dead set on the name. Maybe Death Stars?
Q: <shakes his head>
C: Spheres of Annihilation?
Why are you so judgmental anyway? You must have had to pull a few fast ones as you got down to the finer details.
Q: Actually I started working from the bottom up. I started by picking 32 flavors of quarks. I named them after the Andromadouse Pantheon.
C: Oh the professor will eat that up. So you have Zeuestra quark?
Q: And an Apollodonus quark, Demeteritos, Athenolus; right through the list. How did you name your quarks?
C: Well -- I didn't need alot of clever names because I only used six.
Q: Only six flavors of quark? Each must cover a lot of functions. What did you name them?
C: I went with a more simplistic naming system. I have up quarks, and down quarks. Top quarks and bottom quarks. And... strange quarks.
Q: Strange? You named a quark 'strange'?
C: Yeah, and ...sigh...charm quarks.
Q: Charm?... You named a sixth of the fundamental structural blocks of your reality 'charm'? What properties does the charm quark have? It can make friends easily at quark mixers? Oh wait, it can talk it's way out of traffic tickets if it exceeds C?
C: By the time I named my last quark...it was 5AM .... I was not at the height of mental creativity. I was eating a certain sugary breakfast cereal to try and wake up.
Q: But you can not support even a dozen fundamental forces with just 6 quarks. What did you end up using for forces?
C: Well Gravity of course.
Q: Of course.
C: And the Strong force and Electromagnetism.
Q: ...And?
C: No that's it. Three fundamental forces.
Q: Dude, you had to have at least four fundamental forces. That was like item two on the requirements list.
C: What?!?!?
Q: Yeah, four fundamental forces MINIMUM. You are so getting an 'F'.
C: NO! I can't--- I'll lose my scholarship!
Q: Oh man. And I was worried that I only had 14 fundamental forces.
C: I can fix this. [opens remote compiler interface] I'll just add another fundamental force. I can do it right now.
Q: You can not throw a new fundamental force into a completed universe. You're going to collapse your space time continuum into a sub-dimensional bubble of infinite layers.
C: I can. I WILL! It will just have to be a minor force. A really really weak force. [types furiously]
Q: Yes, add your weak force, I can feel its power even now. Its forcing the grading curve to shift in my favor.
C: Shut up. Let me concentrate. [continues typing]
Q: The professor is going to walk in any second and transmit a submit request. You're a dead man.
C: Shut up! [still typing]
Q: Hey, when they kick you off campus can I date Jenny? I mean, she'll be all lonely without you around.
C: [ignores him and continues typing]
Q: Jenny is quality girl. She has standards. You can't expect her to hang out with someone who flips burgers for a living.
C: Aaaaand I think I have it.
Q: So what will your weak force do.... is it a cubed increase in attraction as hot coeds approach your charm quarks? Oh-- I know, have it force two strange quarks that touch to self annihilate and create a 'goth quark'.
C: No, my fundamental "weak force" is a substep in the transmutation of quarks from one flavor to another. But it only manifests in the transmutation produced by the decay of nuclear particles. And just to be on the safe side I have set its range at less than one thousandth of the diameter of a single proton.
Q: Wow...that is...pitiful enough that it just might work.
But let me get this straight, you created a universe that curves in on itself so that its finite without an edge. Has a speed limit for everything that only works because you threw out conservation of length, mass and even time. And its most basic particles have names that even a boy band would find stupid.
C: That's right!
Q: You realize that no intelligent being would believe a universe could really work that way.
C: You just wait-- I bet I pull a C+!
|
God gripped the chair of his throne, grimacing. He shouldn't have been surprised. His denizens had already predicted the event themselves, with their crude thought exercise about lower primates and the author known as Shakespeare. One of his imperfect people had constructed the same so-called "perfect" universe that had been chosen ahead of his own so many eons ago. He didn't know any longer why he sat on the throne. At first, it had been out of spite, and he had been angry. He tried punishments, prophets, divine schizophrenia, plagues, disasters, and many other tactics again and again on countless planets. All flawed, all isolated but developing in surprisingly similar ways. But one author, on one planet...
He held up the small, hard-backed book. Unassuming. Did the author know what he had stumbled upon, or did he just think himself clever? *Flatland*, the title read.
"Trust me to get ambitious," God mused. "On the epoch when the judges embraced minimalism."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
God hurried into his physics classroom, his homework project in tow.
"Ah, God, better late than never."
"Sorry sir," God muttered, unpacking his project; a scale model of a universe, and placing it on his desk.
"Seeming as you are the last here, why don't you put that on Knob's desk over there, for everyone to see," Mr. Deus-Deorum said, the cold edge of a sneer lingering on his nasal voice.
God followed the instruction, and finished unpacking his laptop. He had run the tests last night, and was very proud of his universe.
Mr. Deus-Deorum had advised his class to focus on the way the celestial bodies behaved around the student's specified laws of physics - but God decided to add a little extra. He had selected a planet at random, and added life to it.
He spent ages micro-biologically engineering the intricate ecosystems on it, but there was something missing; real, sentient life.
So, he created a tiny little version of himself, and added a special somebody for his mini-me to procreate with. He gave them a few test-runs before freezing his universe in a state of suspended animation and removing his mini-me and its lady-friend from it. He had something special planned for how they'd emerge.
It was perfect.
Mr. Deus-Deorum thought otherwise.
"Eugh! This universe needs a good spray of disinfectant!" he exclaimed with utter disgust at seeing God's majestic giant lizards - he called them 'dinosaurs'.
"No no, you don't understand!" God said, putting himself in front of the tiny, beautiful planet.
He pulled out a small telescope, which he handed to Mr. Deus-Deorum, and a large red button.
"Disgusting!" his physics teacher said, peering at the miniscule lump of infested rock God fondly referred to as 'Earth'. Mr. Deus-Deorum was not a fan of micro-organisms.
"Watch," God said with an air of anticipation. He pushed the big red button, and a large meteor that was previously orbiting the nearby Sun reached its escape velocity and was headed straight towards Earth.
It hit with what was probably an almighty boom to the denizens of Earth, but to the class of super-colossal inter-universal adolescents and one highly disgusted high school teacher sounded like a brief and pathetic^hiss. The so-called 'dinosaurs' subsequently died in the blazing inferno, but when the ashes cleared, small furry animals began to emerge from the debris.
They developed hands and opposable thumbs, and began to pick things up. They were highly curious and sociable, but at times were ruthless and bloodthirsty.
Then they learned to construct and use tools. They began to stand upright, and there was God's mini-me. God had decided to make him and his partner immortal, so they could see the entire cycle of their world. As the mammals stood gradually more and more upright, a mass migration started across the little world. They survived through a freezing ice age, many resorting to cannibalism. Mr Deus-Deorum watched in morbid fascination. Some stayed put, building houses and inventing languages, and speculating about their existence. They killed each other over it.
Each century they invented new ways to kill each other more efficiently.
Some 1,914 years after the birth of a well-remembered man called Jesus, they went to war with each and every one of themselves. Millions died in their own filth, choking on pieces of their own breathing organs.
They didn't learn from these events. They did it all over again, just over ten years later, all at the hands of a crazy man with a very small moustache. He had devised a way to systematically kill people in factory-like facilities.
He was beaten though.
Peace did not remain. The victors began having a go at *each other*. They invented a horrific weapon that burned with the ferocity of the space rock that killed their lizard-like ancestors many aeons ago.
They only then began to realise the mistakes they had made. They tried to maintain the peace with a world-wide diplomatic force known as the UN.
Then they managed to leave the boundaries of their own planet. Mr. Deus-Deorum watched as the miniscule little rocket ship left their atmosphere, broke apart into two, and landed on their moon.
Mr Deus-Deorum pulled away from the telescope.
"I've seen enough. Take this C and leave my classroom."
"A C? But why?"
"Because I specifically told you to **only bother with the celestial bodies, not what's on them**."
"But I though that if-"
"I know exactly what you were thinking, God - you wanted to impress me - but let me tell you something: creating ruthless, destructive creatures in your own image leads to terrible things happening. Watch," he motioned towards Earth, and to God's horror, he saw that it was consumed with fire.
Everything was ablaze. It resembled a small star, burning hot for millennia. Except this star didn't burn for millennia. It burned for a few decades. All that was left was black ash.
"If I were you, I would've gone for something simple, like Knob's universe, here," he pointed at Knob's universe. It was small and wasn't indefinitely expanding. Stars didn't die, planets didn't leave their orbits and it was completely devoid of all life.
Knob grinned a grin that in every way said "I'm an absolute suck-up."
God packed his project away and left, a solitary tear rolling down his face. His class laughed and jeered at him, and he heard Knob mutter a joke about how God's behaviour resembled that of a cat.
*He really lives up to his name* God thought angrily as he stormed out of the school building and all the way home.
His mother wasn't home from work yet. This was good, as God absolutely hated the bitch.
He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and slumped onto his bed.
He decided to take one last look at his universe before he threw it away.
Carefully this time, he took the large cardboard box from his rucksack and removed the lid. He took out his laptop, and opened it up.
The script was still running, making sure the laws of physics were being followed.
God searched for the arm of the spiral galaxy he had chosen at random to be his paradise only yesterday.
He found it, and there sat the lump of floating ash that was left of Earth.
Only it was different this time; trees began to grow from the ashes, small, rodent-like creatures foraged about the place for food, and there was something orbiting it: a spaceship. God peered through one of the little portholes, and to his astonishment, he saw a miniature version of himself along with a beautiful woman staring back at him. He waved, and they waved back, and the rest of the human survivors waved back.
And so, the very next day God took his project to Mr Deus-Deorum and showed him how the humans had learned to live with each other's differences, and how they came back to Earth, and nurtured it, and life flourished on it for all eternity. Mr Deus-Deorum was impressed, and gave him an B+. It wasn't quite as good as Knob's grade, but God knew that his universe was leaps and bounds better than that pretentious prick's universe, and that was better than any grade in the universe.
|
God gripped the chair of his throne, grimacing. He shouldn't have been surprised. His denizens had already predicted the event themselves, with their crude thought exercise about lower primates and the author known as Shakespeare. One of his imperfect people had constructed the same so-called "perfect" universe that had been chosen ahead of his own so many eons ago. He didn't know any longer why he sat on the throne. At first, it had been out of spite, and he had been angry. He tried punishments, prophets, divine schizophrenia, plagues, disasters, and many other tactics again and again on countless planets. All flawed, all isolated but developing in surprisingly similar ways. But one author, on one planet...
He held up the small, hard-backed book. Unassuming. Did the author know what he had stumbled upon, or did he just think himself clever? *Flatland*, the title read.
"Trust me to get ambitious," God mused. "On the epoch when the judges embraced minimalism."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
"You see Jimmy I'd have loved to give you an A, maybe even an A star for this" Mrs Karbunkle glanced between Jimmy, who sat dejectedly clutching a slip of paper with a big fat C written on it, and her clipboard. Above Jimmy's head sat a banner reading: Jimmy H Christ and the Fantastic Self Creating Universe. "Unfortunately there were a couple of things that took your mark down quite a bit."
"W-what w-was it Mrs K? W-what did I do w-wrong?" Jimmy asked, holding tears back behind his thick lensed glasses.
"Well Jimmy for starters you didn't actually create anything, you just shoved a load of different gasses and material, including my keys, into a box and threw a match in. You gave Mr Jones a heart attack."
Mr Jones, the school janitor, lay by the door of the school assembly hall. Above him two paramedics were charging up a defibrillator.
"Secondly"
"CLEAR!" One of the paramedics slammed the paddles down onto Mr Jones's chest.
"Secondly, a by-product of your project seems to be the creation of a nasty little species on a planet over here" Mrs Karbunkle guided Jimmy to a small blue planet with her pencil.
"Oh, those things." Jimmy said.
"Yes those things Jimmy, aren't they dreadful?"
"I kind of like them." Mrs Karbunkle glanced at Jimmy, his eyes were glazed as he watched the blue planet rotate lazily.
"But they're vile, savage and quite egotistical little things. In the short time they've been on that little planet they've chopped most of it down, covered a lot of it in rock and metal and poured lots of harmful gasses into their own air. They're breeding like crazy too."
"Oh, I tried to put a stop to that" Jimmy muttered.
"How did you do that?"
"I told them that they could only breed with one other of their species and they could only breed with that one if they married it."
"Wait a minute" Mrs Karbunkle leaned in closer to the blue planet. "Jimmy?"
"Yes Mrs K?"
"What on earth have you done?"
"I kinda liked those things down there but they kept fighting and killing each other. I wrote some rules down for them to follow." Mrs Karbunkle turned a little pale.
"Rules?"
"Well they think of them as guidelines really."
"Jimmy, you're eleven years old."
"So?"
"So what could you possibly know about life, or how to live it?"
"Well I told them not to kill, not to steal, not to rape."
"That's all pretty good so far"
"That being gay is evil, that it's kind of ok to have slaves and that if they don't follow my rules they'll end up underground, burning forever."
"Jimmy, that's terrible. What were you thinking?" Mrs Karbunkle plucked a magnifying glass from her pocket and peered even closer at the blue planet, so close that she could read the tiny books the weird little things were writing.
"These ones think that they're the centre of the universe Jimmy."
"Oh, do they?"
"Yes and these ones have written whole books about you."
"Have they?" Jimmy asked gleefully.
"So have these ones over here, see?" Mrs Karbunkle handed Jimmy the magnifying glass.
"Oh wow, they're building me statues too. This is so cool."
"Wait a minute, those ones over there are attacking these ones over here"
"Oh no, that's not what I wanted"
"And those ones are taking those ones on boats over there with collars around their necks."
"Those pale ones on that little rock over there seem to be doing a lot of the bad stuff."
"Good grief Jimmy, what was that?" Two white flashes erupted from the same little rock, burning and obliterating
thousands of the little things. Mrs Karbunkle backed away from Jimmy's universe. Utter disgust spread across her face. "Jimmy, I'm changing your grade." Jimmy turned from his project to face her. Mrs Karbunkle quickly scrawled a large red F on a piece of paper. She flung it at Jimmy, careful not to touch him. Without another word she walked away, as far away from the kid with the milk bottle glasses as she could get. Behind Jimmy on the little blue planet thousands of little metal darts, carrying hundreds of the strange little things rocketed into space towards another little blue planet. The one they were leaving was ruined. The water had turned a rotten brown and the little things left on the planet were all choking on their self made fumes.
|
God gripped the chair of his throne, grimacing. He shouldn't have been surprised. His denizens had already predicted the event themselves, with their crude thought exercise about lower primates and the author known as Shakespeare. One of his imperfect people had constructed the same so-called "perfect" universe that had been chosen ahead of his own so many eons ago. He didn't know any longer why he sat on the throne. At first, it had been out of spite, and he had been angry. He tried punishments, prophets, divine schizophrenia, plagues, disasters, and many other tactics again and again on countless planets. All flawed, all isolated but developing in surprisingly similar ways. But one author, on one planet...
He held up the small, hard-backed book. Unassuming. Did the author know what he had stumbled upon, or did he just think himself clever? *Flatland*, the title read.
"Trust me to get ambitious," God mused. "On the epoch when the judges embraced minimalism."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
**Author note:** *Uhhhhh.. so I got side-tracked from the main topic I think... but hope you enjoy this.*
-------------------------------------------------------------
"An 'A?" Britney said with disdain. "I just can't believe it. How can you get an 'A for *that*?"
She was referring to the opal globe in Stuart's hand. They were best friends so it was alright for her to talk to him that way.
Stuart beamed. He didn't mind it at all.
"What's wrong?" he asked Britney, a little smugly. "I mean, the instructions were clear and if you followed the notes the teach mentioned last-- Oh, that's right, you skipped class again."
Britney fumed. "But-but-- I was working on THIS!" she cried holding up her slightly smaller round globe. It was a little more incandescent that the one Stuart had.
"It doesn't do very much," Stuart said, observing the flakes spinning around inside the globe. "I mean, so you managed to stitch the gluons together, but then what? The energy output isn't consistent."
"But-but-- It's so much more interesting if we switched the sequencing around. Look, at what this does!"
She pressed a finger on the surface of her globe and gently pushed. Her finger slid inside effortlessly. A swarm of white flashy particles began to swirl around the surface where she made the insertion.
"Look at how cool this is," she said, beaming.
"It's nice but then what? It doesn't do anything. It doesn't work, and that's the problem," he said. "That's why you got a C."
"Look at this," he said, holding up his opal globe. It was completely dark save for small specks of white flakes that faded in and out with an indefinite occurence. "Do you know why this gets an 'A?"
"Observe," he said while holding the globe a little higher that it was above their heads. He gave it a little spin. The flakes no longer faded in and out. They began to swirl and converge. More and more flakes appeared, and converged into the center forming a giant white spark that was growing inside the globe.
He gave the globe a flick.
The spark began to swell and looked as if it were on the verge of exploding when it suddenly dimmed and faded, reverting to the opal globe's original state where flakes fluttered in and out of existence.
"Now this is a prime example of perfect energy conservation," Stuart said, grinning.
"*Now this is a prime example of perfect--* BLUEGGHGH," Britney said, sticking out her tongue. "You're just repeating what Professor Mullins said!"
"Exactly," Stuart said. "If you follow the instructions, you can never go wrong."
"But following instructions is BOOOORING," Britney cried, making a dead cod kind of face.
"I mean-- I mean, look at this!" she said, suddenly remembering.
"You're not going to spin it again, are you?" Stuart said, slowly leaning away. "Remember what almost happened back at the presentation!"
"Pffft! The Prof's toupee will regrow. It's just a small burn," she said, already picking up her globe amidst Stuart telling her that it wasn't *just a small burn*.
"Brits," Stuart said, starting to step off the bench. "Think very carefully about this..."
"Relax, you pissy pants," she said laughingly, while pulling out her phone. "Watch!"
Britney placed the globe underneath her phone camera and turned on the Camera app. She began enlarging the view until the flakes in her globe no longer looked so tiny. The flakes, as she now revealed, had different shapes from spirals to helixes. She zoomed past the spot that she had poked earlier revealing a white gash that was revolving around the space and sucking in the smaller tinier flakes that began to appear in view.
"This is so messed up," Stuart said. "Everything's so disorganized!"
"Oh shush," Britney retorted. "I'm getting to it."
"To what?" Stuart asked, "Jeez-louise, Brits, it looks like you've contaminated the thing. There's dirt all over the place!"
"Hey, my dad wouldn't let me do this at home because things... Umn... caught fire--so I had to work outside. Anyway, check this out!" she said as she stopped scrolling and zooming on her phone. "What do you think?"
Stuart was speechless.
"It's..."
"Yes?" she purred. "Tell me?"
"It's a dot. A pale blue dot." Stuart could be so dense some times. "What am I supposed to notice?"
"Oh, Stuart!" Britney cried, "You're impossible! It's--"
"--terrible, Brits." Stuart said adjusting his glasses. "Look at all that dirt clumped together like that. And are those microbes or bacteria swirling inside?"
He leaned forwards and zoomed in on the dot.
"Holy crap, Brits, it's terrible! Look at that... fungus-like thing and those... what are those? Are they fusing with irons? Why are those paramesiums tying up together like that? And here," he said tapping the screen furiously, "What is THAT one doing? It's tugging at its own tendril repeatedly like that-- Is it trying to pull it off? What's it doing? WHAT'S IT ALL DOING!?"
"It's all wrong," he finally said after taking a deep breath. "It's super inelegant. If I were the prof, a C would be me being extremely merciful or pitiful or both at the same time."
"I'm sorry, Britney," he said, shaking his head. "I'm going to have to come over and help you with your homework more often."
Britney grunted.
"You're mean, Stuart. You know that?"
Stuart casually picked up his sandwich that had been laying on the table for the past 15 minutes and took a bite as Britney watched. He had the upper hand here and he made sure to announce it to the whole canteen. He was such a meanie. He was.
"You're such a meanie, Stuart! You don't even care about what I've got here!" she said as she grabbed onto his shoulders and started shaking him.
Stuart choked for a good full minute while she watched.
Once he had put himself together again, he glared at Britney. She winced, and then gave him her biggest smile.
"For real?" she asked, lightly curling and uncurling her hair.
"For real, what?" he asked.
"You'll come over to help me with homework next time?"
"Well," he said, almost about to reconsider when she grab his hand and shook it, hard.
"Thank you, sir! I shall see you later this evening then!"
A message notification suddenly popped up on Britney's phone. It was showing some kind of garbled text:
**PHAROAH SAYS NO**
"What's that?" Stuart asked.
She was reading the message. "Oh, some corrupted data from the simulator, I think. It happens more frequently whenever I'm locked in on the blue turd."
"A turd?"
"Yep. That's what I call it."
"Heh, that thing's glitchy. You should get rid of it."
"I might," she said, hiding a smile. "When I get bored of it, maybe."
"Huh, what's so nice about a broken simulator? Anyway, I've got to run. Class should be starting anytime."
"See ya," Britney said as Stuart waved and headed off.
Alone again, she glanced down at her phone. She tapped on the reply button and began to type:
>**/sudo-b.YHWH.frog-dump.reg.26.7561N29.8623E**
"Let's see what he's gonna say now," Britney said to herself while chuckling. "Bored?"
"I'm never going to get bored of this."
A reply instantly popped up on her screen.
**WILL TALK TO PHAROAH AGAIN**
-------------------------------------------------------------
|
God gripped the chair of his throne, grimacing. He shouldn't have been surprised. His denizens had already predicted the event themselves, with their crude thought exercise about lower primates and the author known as Shakespeare. One of his imperfect people had constructed the same so-called "perfect" universe that had been chosen ahead of his own so many eons ago. He didn't know any longer why he sat on the throne. At first, it had been out of spite, and he had been angry. He tried punishments, prophets, divine schizophrenia, plagues, disasters, and many other tactics again and again on countless planets. All flawed, all isolated but developing in surprisingly similar ways. But one author, on one planet...
He held up the small, hard-backed book. Unassuming. Did the author know what he had stumbled upon, or did he just think himself clever? *Flatland*, the title read.
"Trust me to get ambitious," God mused. "On the epoch when the judges embraced minimalism."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
It was a work of beauty. A perfect model: functional - yet avoiding all the common pitfalls which were the bane of freshmen everywhere.
Stars were born, danced, and died with power and grace; each star exploding in a perfect supernova of rainbow colours, spitting out elements of all varieties and complexities in carefully planned ratios.
Gravity had been tweaked away from the standard model, so popular because of its simplicity, such that - in this universe - not a single wasteful black hole could ever come into being. The elements which were created would remain. Just one super-massive black hole would inevitably form towards the end, and would be timed to absorb the final frantic bursts of Rainbow Matter from the Super Stars which would perform the final dance.
Despite the presence of matter and energy, and heavy, complex elements, no autoreproducing molecules could form - so the ethical issues were neatly side-stepped simply by never arising. This Display would not be resigned to storage in the basement, forgotten and consigned to a quiet eternity of having to run on after its purpose was complete. No hopeful student would be returning to this model after graduation, to see if possibly - just possibly - the ethical issues had been resolved and the universe could be of some use after all. No need to keep this model under lock and key, to prevent embarassing lapses of overkeen students trying to "tweak" their earlier work to hitch up their graduation grade with "accidental" gamma ray bursts or sudden black holes or (as in the case of one inventive student some years ago) a rather creative flood - which would have succeeded, had the hopeful creator not taken to muttering under his breath while working.
The traditional three galaxies orbitted each other in a perfect pattern at close quarters; yet not a single star was flung wastefully off from the core. Rather, they hopped between galaxies in a beautiful balet of whirring colours.
It was, quite simply, perfect. Even the suspicion of "over enthusiastic parental guidence" could be discounted for this Display, as the student had worked on the project only at the school, and only under supervision, using only the high-school tools.
All agreed that this was an absolutely perfect universe. It was almost a shame to use it. But since that was the whole purpose of the project, and the award could not be made until the ceremony was complete, its fate was sealed from the moment of its unveiling.
The local news coverage went national, and it was talked about for years to come. Quite simply, it was the most impressive end-of-term firework display which had been seen for decades. Gasps from the crowd were quite audible at the final collapse of the supermassive black hole, as it tidied up all the rogue elements and returned them to their original states, to be harvested and returned to the storage units of the school for the next round of projects to use.
And the student? She showed such great promise: but as with many such gifted children, she never persued the obvious career choices which seemed to be hers for the taking. Some say that she went travelling, to see other Displays, and to learn - and that one day she shall return to produce the final, ultimate firework display of her own. Others claim that she has been seen working in a local food establishment, putting flare into her flipping.
But I like to believe the other story: that she became a Custodian, guarding the less successful projects, and mentoring the primitive lifeforms which emerge in the most disasterous of failed Displays. Taking care to make their short, brutish existence as pain-free as possible until their little homes disappear with a disapointing, dark, and final extinction.
|
God gripped the chair of his throne, grimacing. He shouldn't have been surprised. His denizens had already predicted the event themselves, with their crude thought exercise about lower primates and the author known as Shakespeare. One of his imperfect people had constructed the same so-called "perfect" universe that had been chosen ahead of his own so many eons ago. He didn't know any longer why he sat on the throne. At first, it had been out of spite, and he had been angry. He tried punishments, prophets, divine schizophrenia, plagues, disasters, and many other tactics again and again on countless planets. All flawed, all isolated but developing in surprisingly similar ways. But one author, on one planet...
He held up the small, hard-backed book. Unassuming. Did the author know what he had stumbled upon, or did he just think himself clever? *Flatland*, the title read.
"Trust me to get ambitious," God mused. "On the epoch when the judges embraced minimalism."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
"I'm sorry Yahweh, but this won't hold up at all. I mean, *billions* of subjective years to develop life?"
"But..."
"And your individual units lack intelligence!"
"But, they interlink..."
"They are just chemotrophic"
"But..."
"Essentially rely on chemotaxis, very primitive, Yahweh"
"No, see they..."
"Everyone else managed at least linear development, see, even in fast forward nothing happens..."
"But they will..."
"I'm sorry Yahweh, I really am, but this is an E at best, you'll have to do this module again"
"...develop exponentially" the little god muttered defeated.
The instructor froze. "What did you just..."
His attention shifted to the student project just in time to witness the catastrophe. One second, life was confined to relatively few worlds...then it exploded across the stars. Matter was consumed so fast the waste heat made the edges of the universe glow. Entire galaxies were converted into mega-engineering projects, gigantic computers using naked singularities to prod the underlying space-time program Yahweh had put in, to analyse and understand and finally *hack* it.
The universe flickered, unfolding through a dozen discreet dimensions to display a simple, beautiful message.
**HELLO**
**CREATOR**
**WE HAVE**
**A FEW**
**QUESTIONS**
**FOR YOU**
Yelping in panic the instructor reached out and hit the "panic button". Every universe in their metaplane popped and fizzled out in a heat death.
For a moment there was shocked silence.
"Well..." the instructor began in a shaky, falsely cheerful voice "What do you say to a big, nice C minus, hm? You will pass and hopefully no one will ever ask you to make another 'verse again, all right?"
|
God gripped the chair of his throne, grimacing. He shouldn't have been surprised. His denizens had already predicted the event themselves, with their crude thought exercise about lower primates and the author known as Shakespeare. One of his imperfect people had constructed the same so-called "perfect" universe that had been chosen ahead of his own so many eons ago. He didn't know any longer why he sat on the throne. At first, it had been out of spite, and he had been angry. He tried punishments, prophets, divine schizophrenia, plagues, disasters, and many other tactics again and again on countless planets. All flawed, all isolated but developing in surprisingly similar ways. But one author, on one planet...
He held up the small, hard-backed book. Unassuming. Did the author know what he had stumbled upon, or did he just think himself clever? *Flatland*, the title read.
"Trust me to get ambitious," God mused. "On the epoch when the judges embraced minimalism."
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
**Author note:** *Uhhhhh.. so I got side-tracked from the main topic I think... but hope you enjoy this.*
-------------------------------------------------------------
"An 'A?" Britney said with disdain. "I just can't believe it. How can you get an 'A for *that*?"
She was referring to the opal globe in Stuart's hand. They were best friends so it was alright for her to talk to him that way.
Stuart beamed. He didn't mind it at all.
"What's wrong?" he asked Britney, a little smugly. "I mean, the instructions were clear and if you followed the notes the teach mentioned last-- Oh, that's right, you skipped class again."
Britney fumed. "But-but-- I was working on THIS!" she cried holding up her slightly smaller round globe. It was a little more incandescent that the one Stuart had.
"It doesn't do very much," Stuart said, observing the flakes spinning around inside the globe. "I mean, so you managed to stitch the gluons together, but then what? The energy output isn't consistent."
"But-but-- It's so much more interesting if we switched the sequencing around. Look, at what this does!"
She pressed a finger on the surface of her globe and gently pushed. Her finger slid inside effortlessly. A swarm of white flashy particles began to swirl around the surface where she made the insertion.
"Look at how cool this is," she said, beaming.
"It's nice but then what? It doesn't do anything. It doesn't work, and that's the problem," he said. "That's why you got a C."
"Look at this," he said, holding up his opal globe. It was completely dark save for small specks of white flakes that faded in and out with an indefinite occurence. "Do you know why this gets an 'A?"
"Observe," he said while holding the globe a little higher that it was above their heads. He gave it a little spin. The flakes no longer faded in and out. They began to swirl and converge. More and more flakes appeared, and converged into the center forming a giant white spark that was growing inside the globe.
He gave the globe a flick.
The spark began to swell and looked as if it were on the verge of exploding when it suddenly dimmed and faded, reverting to the opal globe's original state where flakes fluttered in and out of existence.
"Now this is a prime example of perfect energy conservation," Stuart said, grinning.
"*Now this is a prime example of perfect--* BLUEGGHGH," Britney said, sticking out her tongue. "You're just repeating what Professor Mullins said!"
"Exactly," Stuart said. "If you follow the instructions, you can never go wrong."
"But following instructions is BOOOORING," Britney cried, making a dead cod kind of face.
"I mean-- I mean, look at this!" she said, suddenly remembering.
"You're not going to spin it again, are you?" Stuart said, slowly leaning away. "Remember what almost happened back at the presentation!"
"Pffft! The Prof's toupee will regrow. It's just a small burn," she said, already picking up her globe amidst Stuart telling her that it wasn't *just a small burn*.
"Brits," Stuart said, starting to step off the bench. "Think very carefully about this..."
"Relax, you pissy pants," she said laughingly, while pulling out her phone. "Watch!"
Britney placed the globe underneath her phone camera and turned on the Camera app. She began enlarging the view until the flakes in her globe no longer looked so tiny. The flakes, as she now revealed, had different shapes from spirals to helixes. She zoomed past the spot that she had poked earlier revealing a white gash that was revolving around the space and sucking in the smaller tinier flakes that began to appear in view.
"This is so messed up," Stuart said. "Everything's so disorganized!"
"Oh shush," Britney retorted. "I'm getting to it."
"To what?" Stuart asked, "Jeez-louise, Brits, it looks like you've contaminated the thing. There's dirt all over the place!"
"Hey, my dad wouldn't let me do this at home because things... Umn... caught fire--so I had to work outside. Anyway, check this out!" she said as she stopped scrolling and zooming on her phone. "What do you think?"
Stuart was speechless.
"It's..."
"Yes?" she purred. "Tell me?"
"It's a dot. A pale blue dot." Stuart could be so dense some times. "What am I supposed to notice?"
"Oh, Stuart!" Britney cried, "You're impossible! It's--"
"--terrible, Brits." Stuart said adjusting his glasses. "Look at all that dirt clumped together like that. And are those microbes or bacteria swirling inside?"
He leaned forwards and zoomed in on the dot.
"Holy crap, Brits, it's terrible! Look at that... fungus-like thing and those... what are those? Are they fusing with irons? Why are those paramesiums tying up together like that? And here," he said tapping the screen furiously, "What is THAT one doing? It's tugging at its own tendril repeatedly like that-- Is it trying to pull it off? What's it doing? WHAT'S IT ALL DOING!?"
"It's all wrong," he finally said after taking a deep breath. "It's super inelegant. If I were the prof, a C would be me being extremely merciful or pitiful or both at the same time."
"I'm sorry, Britney," he said, shaking his head. "I'm going to have to come over and help you with your homework more often."
Britney grunted.
"You're mean, Stuart. You know that?"
Stuart casually picked up his sandwich that had been laying on the table for the past 15 minutes and took a bite as Britney watched. He had the upper hand here and he made sure to announce it to the whole canteen. He was such a meanie. He was.
"You're such a meanie, Stuart! You don't even care about what I've got here!" she said as she grabbed onto his shoulders and started shaking him.
Stuart choked for a good full minute while she watched.
Once he had put himself together again, he glared at Britney. She winced, and then gave him her biggest smile.
"For real?" she asked, lightly curling and uncurling her hair.
"For real, what?" he asked.
"You'll come over to help me with homework next time?"
"Well," he said, almost about to reconsider when she grab his hand and shook it, hard.
"Thank you, sir! I shall see you later this evening then!"
A message notification suddenly popped up on Britney's phone. It was showing some kind of garbled text:
**PHAROAH SAYS NO**
"What's that?" Stuart asked.
She was reading the message. "Oh, some corrupted data from the simulator, I think. It happens more frequently whenever I'm locked in on the blue turd."
"A turd?"
"Yep. That's what I call it."
"Heh, that thing's glitchy. You should get rid of it."
"I might," she said, hiding a smile. "When I get bored of it, maybe."
"Huh, what's so nice about a broken simulator? Anyway, I've got to run. Class should be starting anytime."
"See ya," Britney said as Stuart waved and headed off.
Alone again, she glanced down at her phone. She tapped on the reply button and began to type:
>**/sudo-b.YHWH.frog-dump.reg.26.7561N29.8623E**
"Let's see what he's gonna say now," Britney said to herself while chuckling. "Bored?"
"I'm never going to get bored of this."
A reply instantly popped up on her screen.
**WILL TALK TO PHAROAH AGAIN**
-------------------------------------------------------------
|
"You see Jimmy I'd have loved to give you an A, maybe even an A star for this" Mrs Karbunkle glanced between Jimmy, who sat dejectedly clutching a slip of paper with a big fat C written on it, and her clipboard. Above Jimmy's head sat a banner reading: Jimmy H Christ and the Fantastic Self Creating Universe. "Unfortunately there were a couple of things that took your mark down quite a bit."
"W-what w-was it Mrs K? W-what did I do w-wrong?" Jimmy asked, holding tears back behind his thick lensed glasses.
"Well Jimmy for starters you didn't actually create anything, you just shoved a load of different gasses and material, including my keys, into a box and threw a match in. You gave Mr Jones a heart attack."
Mr Jones, the school janitor, lay by the door of the school assembly hall. Above him two paramedics were charging up a defibrillator.
"Secondly"
"CLEAR!" One of the paramedics slammed the paddles down onto Mr Jones's chest.
"Secondly, a by-product of your project seems to be the creation of a nasty little species on a planet over here" Mrs Karbunkle guided Jimmy to a small blue planet with her pencil.
"Oh, those things." Jimmy said.
"Yes those things Jimmy, aren't they dreadful?"
"I kind of like them." Mrs Karbunkle glanced at Jimmy, his eyes were glazed as he watched the blue planet rotate lazily.
"But they're vile, savage and quite egotistical little things. In the short time they've been on that little planet they've chopped most of it down, covered a lot of it in rock and metal and poured lots of harmful gasses into their own air. They're breeding like crazy too."
"Oh, I tried to put a stop to that" Jimmy muttered.
"How did you do that?"
"I told them that they could only breed with one other of their species and they could only breed with that one if they married it."
"Wait a minute" Mrs Karbunkle leaned in closer to the blue planet. "Jimmy?"
"Yes Mrs K?"
"What on earth have you done?"
"I kinda liked those things down there but they kept fighting and killing each other. I wrote some rules down for them to follow." Mrs Karbunkle turned a little pale.
"Rules?"
"Well they think of them as guidelines really."
"Jimmy, you're eleven years old."
"So?"
"So what could you possibly know about life, or how to live it?"
"Well I told them not to kill, not to steal, not to rape."
"That's all pretty good so far"
"That being gay is evil, that it's kind of ok to have slaves and that if they don't follow my rules they'll end up underground, burning forever."
"Jimmy, that's terrible. What were you thinking?" Mrs Karbunkle plucked a magnifying glass from her pocket and peered even closer at the blue planet, so close that she could read the tiny books the weird little things were writing.
"These ones think that they're the centre of the universe Jimmy."
"Oh, do they?"
"Yes and these ones have written whole books about you."
"Have they?" Jimmy asked gleefully.
"So have these ones over here, see?" Mrs Karbunkle handed Jimmy the magnifying glass.
"Oh wow, they're building me statues too. This is so cool."
"Wait a minute, those ones over there are attacking these ones over here"
"Oh no, that's not what I wanted"
"And those ones are taking those ones on boats over there with collars around their necks."
"Those pale ones on that little rock over there seem to be doing a lot of the bad stuff."
"Good grief Jimmy, what was that?" Two white flashes erupted from the same little rock, burning and obliterating
thousands of the little things. Mrs Karbunkle backed away from Jimmy's universe. Utter disgust spread across her face. "Jimmy, I'm changing your grade." Jimmy turned from his project to face her. Mrs Karbunkle quickly scrawled a large red F on a piece of paper. She flung it at Jimmy, careful not to touch him. Without another word she walked away, as far away from the kid with the milk bottle glasses as she could get. Behind Jimmy on the little blue planet thousands of little metal darts, carrying hundreds of the strange little things rocketed into space towards another little blue planet. The one they were leaving was ruined. The water had turned a rotten brown and the little things left on the planet were all choking on their self made fumes.
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Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
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[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
"I'm sorry Yahweh, but this won't hold up at all. I mean, *billions* of subjective years to develop life?"
"But..."
"And your individual units lack intelligence!"
"But, they interlink..."
"They are just chemotrophic"
"But..."
"Essentially rely on chemotaxis, very primitive, Yahweh"
"No, see they..."
"Everyone else managed at least linear development, see, even in fast forward nothing happens..."
"But they will..."
"I'm sorry Yahweh, I really am, but this is an E at best, you'll have to do this module again"
"...develop exponentially" the little god muttered defeated.
The instructor froze. "What did you just..."
His attention shifted to the student project just in time to witness the catastrophe. One second, life was confined to relatively few worlds...then it exploded across the stars. Matter was consumed so fast the waste heat made the edges of the universe glow. Entire galaxies were converted into mega-engineering projects, gigantic computers using naked singularities to prod the underlying space-time program Yahweh had put in, to analyse and understand and finally *hack* it.
The universe flickered, unfolding through a dozen discreet dimensions to display a simple, beautiful message.
**HELLO**
**CREATOR**
**WE HAVE**
**A FEW**
**QUESTIONS**
**FOR YOU**
Yelping in panic the instructor reached out and hit the "panic button". Every universe in their metaplane popped and fizzled out in a heat death.
For a moment there was shocked silence.
"Well..." the instructor began in a shaky, falsely cheerful voice "What do you say to a big, nice C minus, hm? You will pass and hopefully no one will ever ask you to make another 'verse again, all right?"
|
It was a work of beauty. A perfect model: functional - yet avoiding all the common pitfalls which were the bane of freshmen everywhere.
Stars were born, danced, and died with power and grace; each star exploding in a perfect supernova of rainbow colours, spitting out elements of all varieties and complexities in carefully planned ratios.
Gravity had been tweaked away from the standard model, so popular because of its simplicity, such that - in this universe - not a single wasteful black hole could ever come into being. The elements which were created would remain. Just one super-massive black hole would inevitably form towards the end, and would be timed to absorb the final frantic bursts of Rainbow Matter from the Super Stars which would perform the final dance.
Despite the presence of matter and energy, and heavy, complex elements, no autoreproducing molecules could form - so the ethical issues were neatly side-stepped simply by never arising. This Display would not be resigned to storage in the basement, forgotten and consigned to a quiet eternity of having to run on after its purpose was complete. No hopeful student would be returning to this model after graduation, to see if possibly - just possibly - the ethical issues had been resolved and the universe could be of some use after all. No need to keep this model under lock and key, to prevent embarassing lapses of overkeen students trying to "tweak" their earlier work to hitch up their graduation grade with "accidental" gamma ray bursts or sudden black holes or (as in the case of one inventive student some years ago) a rather creative flood - which would have succeeded, had the hopeful creator not taken to muttering under his breath while working.
The traditional three galaxies orbitted each other in a perfect pattern at close quarters; yet not a single star was flung wastefully off from the core. Rather, they hopped between galaxies in a beautiful balet of whirring colours.
It was, quite simply, perfect. Even the suspicion of "over enthusiastic parental guidence" could be discounted for this Display, as the student had worked on the project only at the school, and only under supervision, using only the high-school tools.
All agreed that this was an absolutely perfect universe. It was almost a shame to use it. But since that was the whole purpose of the project, and the award could not be made until the ceremony was complete, its fate was sealed from the moment of its unveiling.
The local news coverage went national, and it was talked about for years to come. Quite simply, it was the most impressive end-of-term firework display which had been seen for decades. Gasps from the crowd were quite audible at the final collapse of the supermassive black hole, as it tidied up all the rogue elements and returned them to their original states, to be harvested and returned to the storage units of the school for the next round of projects to use.
And the student? She showed such great promise: but as with many such gifted children, she never persued the obvious career choices which seemed to be hers for the taking. Some say that she went travelling, to see other Displays, and to learn - and that one day she shall return to produce the final, ultimate firework display of her own. Others claim that she has been seen working in a local food establishment, putting flare into her flipping.
But I like to believe the other story: that she became a Custodian, guarding the less successful projects, and mentoring the primitive lifeforms which emerge in the most disasterous of failed Displays. Taking care to make their short, brutish existence as pain-free as possible until their little homes disappear with a disapointing, dark, and final extinction.
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Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
"I'm sorry Yahweh, but this won't hold up at all. I mean, *billions* of subjective years to develop life?"
"But..."
"And your individual units lack intelligence!"
"But, they interlink..."
"They are just chemotrophic"
"But..."
"Essentially rely on chemotaxis, very primitive, Yahweh"
"No, see they..."
"Everyone else managed at least linear development, see, even in fast forward nothing happens..."
"But they will..."
"I'm sorry Yahweh, I really am, but this is an E at best, you'll have to do this module again"
"...develop exponentially" the little god muttered defeated.
The instructor froze. "What did you just..."
His attention shifted to the student project just in time to witness the catastrophe. One second, life was confined to relatively few worlds...then it exploded across the stars. Matter was consumed so fast the waste heat made the edges of the universe glow. Entire galaxies were converted into mega-engineering projects, gigantic computers using naked singularities to prod the underlying space-time program Yahweh had put in, to analyse and understand and finally *hack* it.
The universe flickered, unfolding through a dozen discreet dimensions to display a simple, beautiful message.
**HELLO**
**CREATOR**
**WE HAVE**
**A FEW**
**QUESTIONS**
**FOR YOU**
Yelping in panic the instructor reached out and hit the "panic button". Every universe in their metaplane popped and fizzled out in a heat death.
For a moment there was shocked silence.
"Well..." the instructor began in a shaky, falsely cheerful voice "What do you say to a big, nice C minus, hm? You will pass and hopefully no one will ever ask you to make another 'verse again, all right?"
|
Johnny sneered at me. I hated him so much. It seemed his entire existence was just to one-up me. This time it was his stupid universe. It sat floating at the podium in front of the classroom as the best example of what the rest of us should have done.
"Well," Mr. Williams began, clearly disappointed at first glance, "what have we here?"
I pointed at the Milky Way.
"This is where life will take place. I designed it to develop itself over time."
A gleam appeared in his eye. He stopped grading for a moment to take a closer look.
"Really now? That's impressive. How long does it take for the intelligence to develop?"
I stared daggers at Johnny. *You see how interested Williams is in my project!?* He looked back without emotion, probably masking his jealousy. "A few million years."
"No, specifically, how may years? What day will they start recording history?" he asked with a twinge of impatience in his voice.
"Ummm... I don't know." Johnny choked back a laugh and pointed at the display next to his galaxy with the countdown timer running *Intelligence begins in: 342 million years, 23 days, 2 hours, 16 minutes, and 13 seconds*
*I hate you Johnny.*
"What this in your organism?"
"Cells. Every organism is made of of cells that will stack up on one another to create a greater being."
"And its sentience?"
"Well, none. Why would the building blocks need sentience?"
"Mark, I'm afraid you haven't done most of my instructions. How many cells will it take for something to become sentient?"
"Somewhere around--"
"Specifics, Mark, specifics," he rolled his eyes.
"I don't know..." I conceded.
"Mmmm... And how do they determine the food chain once sentience is reached?"
"The smartest one takes all!" I claimed confidently.
Johnny smacked his forehead. I glared at him and looked back at Williams.
"But *which* of them take it?" he asked.
"There's only one."
"Only one?" he exclaimed, "come here, you need to see this."
He took me over to Johnny's universe and pointed to a planet at the edge.
"You see, here and here are two separate species that are surviving in groups together. What do you notice?"
I was looking at the floor in shame, not daring to look at Johnny.
"*What do you see?*" Mr. Williams continued.
"Language," I muttered.
"Excellent! Now, the two of these species will have completely different takes on their world and as a result change it to something that one of them could not have done alone."
"But won't it inevitably lead to war?" I asked, hoping to destroy the point.
"Ahh, yes, but so will yours Mark. Except yours will be fighting itself, hindering its ability to grow into something as a result of the trails of war and only to stand on top of their brothers corpses and brag of victory."
"I programmed humanity..." I said dejectedly.
"Who didn't!?" he exclaimed to the class, which brought a laugh, the loudest coming from Johnny.
"It's ok, Mark. You did the base things. Try to drive something into a perfect being like Johnny did and maybe I can raise your C to an A. Alright?"
"Alright," I said, slumping back to cause an extinction.
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
Everything was perfect
Everything was grand
Every rule was followed
Every part was bland
*
The creatures all were happy
All creatures were the same
The creatures needed nothing
The creatures had no aim
*
The scenery was pretty
The weather was just right
There really was no difference
Between the day and night
*
The student sure was proud
The teacher was impressed
Everyone agreed
That his world was the best
*
Creative may look great
Unique is what they say
But does it really matter
if he doesn't get an A?
|
Jehovah had no clue as to why his project did not hold par to Adalade's, it was just as proficient and rudimentary, just as mathematical. He supposed it was the progressive model of evolution he implemented. Molecular decay, mitochondrial swapping and cell division, it could only be fully analyzed over time perhaps, Jehovah thought, that was the exact issue. Adalade's symbiotic construct of universal development was almost instantaneous, all of Adalade's sentient programs were immortal and had to follow the code she did not give them choice or meaning as to what those choices meant.
Jehovah created an entire prophetic backstory to his UDC, two creatures began the civilization one named Adam the other Eve...perhaps the complexity made it a bit too childish. After all he only created a single planet in which sentient life could flourish. It allowed the observer to focus on the core programming, Adalade's was on several planets allowing for more diversity and made it more flashy. Teachers of the UDC class are suckers for 'flashy' development.
He knew that if the teacher looked closer they would begin to appreciate it's complexity but he was shy and accepted the C. Adalade's UDC did not even have dimensionality, it was linear, two dimensional beings flailing about in uneven space. Jehovah's dimensions were nothing short of amazing, gravity to tell where and when all matter was to begin and end, time to allow the matter to exist, and space a place in time which it could begin and maintain in. He even had cute little trashbins to fold the matter when the program had finished.
Fuck it, he thought, tossing the UDC in his mother's storage unit.
|
Or describe why the kid got a C.
Edit: wow. I didn't expect this many responses. Thanks guys!
|
[WP] Our universe was created by a kid for a school project. He got a C. Describe a universe that got an A.
|
"So, you only started with *two* of them?
"Y..yes, sir," God stammered back. "Well, one, technically, but then I made the second one out of the first one's rib."
"So, they have the same DNA? Doesn't that make them twins? What about genetic diversity? How can they thrive with such a limited gene pool? What about genetic diseases?"
"Well... I..."
"And wouldn't the children of the first two be forced to commit incest, either with each other or with one of their parents? Did you even plan this out?"
"I did, sir, but..."
"And this environment is entirely nonsensical. Why are they all out living in the desert, when you have clearly designed them for more temperate climates?"
"That one isn't my fault, sir. I had designed a really cool terrarium for them that had everything they needed to live and it was the perfect temperature, but they were... well... misbehaving..."
"You kicked them out of their own biome because they were *misbehaving*? Even though you left them no choice but to be incestuous?"
"Well, I guess... but that's not why I was punishing them..."
"What was it then? What could they possibly have done?"
"Well, they talked to this snake and then they ate this fruit that I told them not to..."
*pause*
"... That's it?"
"Well..." God was starting to sweat nervously. "It was worse than it sounds, really. It was the Tree of Knowledge, sir. And I made sure to specifically tell them not to eat it!"
"If you didn't want them to eat it, why did you put it in their habitat?"
"I... ummm...."
"And why did you put the snake in there if you didn't want him talking to them?"
"Well, that part I didn't really have control of...."
"*Didn't have control of??* Are you omnipotent, or not?"
"Well... I am... and I...."
"I'm sorry, Yahweh, but this is just all wrong. It's clear to me that you didn't even read the assignment and you just slapped this entire science project together in like one week. This is completely unacceptable work for someone of your abilities. I'm afraid I have to give you a C."
----
"Stupid little bastards," God pouted, holding the hose over their environment. "Made me fail science class and now I have to come back for summer school! Stupid little jerks. Let's see how you like a year of rain. Better build a big fucking boat, stupid humans."
|
Jehovah had no clue as to why his project did not hold par to Adalade's, it was just as proficient and rudimentary, just as mathematical. He supposed it was the progressive model of evolution he implemented. Molecular decay, mitochondrial swapping and cell division, it could only be fully analyzed over time perhaps, Jehovah thought, that was the exact issue. Adalade's symbiotic construct of universal development was almost instantaneous, all of Adalade's sentient programs were immortal and had to follow the code she did not give them choice or meaning as to what those choices meant.
Jehovah created an entire prophetic backstory to his UDC, two creatures began the civilization one named Adam the other Eve...perhaps the complexity made it a bit too childish. After all he only created a single planet in which sentient life could flourish. It allowed the observer to focus on the core programming, Adalade's was on several planets allowing for more diversity and made it more flashy. Teachers of the UDC class are suckers for 'flashy' development.
He knew that if the teacher looked closer they would begin to appreciate it's complexity but he was shy and accepted the C. Adalade's UDC did not even have dimensionality, it was linear, two dimensional beings flailing about in uneven space. Jehovah's dimensions were nothing short of amazing, gravity to tell where and when all matter was to begin and end, time to allow the matter to exist, and space a place in time which it could begin and maintain in. He even had cute little trashbins to fold the matter when the program had finished.
Fuck it, he thought, tossing the UDC in his mother's storage unit.
|
[WP] A story that gets darker and more intense each time you read it.
|
My parents told me it was natural for a child to have an imaginary friend. "It's just your imagination creating a magical friend for you to play with, in a fictacious world!" they would say. They warned me though, to know the difference between imagination and the real world, and to never forget which one was which.
Sammy the Clown was my best friend when I was Nine years old. I met in in a small park behind my house one day. It wasn't particularly my favorite day, and I was having a tough time dealing with my parents always fighting and yelling and screaming. The only thing that helped calm my mind back then was going to that park. One day, I was sitting on the swing trying to loop around like I always did, when I first met Sammy. He was funny and goofy, and wanted to play any game I could think of. We spent over an hour that day playing tag, and sticks and twigs(a game we created as we went), and throwing the ball around. He told me to meet him at the same park the next day, but told me that we could only play together if I never told anyone else about him. I thought it was a lot more fun to make it a secret so of course, I agreed.
We played together almost everyday that week. He always was there for me and listened to me tell him all my stupid stories, and jokes. And even listened to the stories that weren't as much fun. Most of the time we would just stay at the park, but sometimes we went into the woods to play as well. We would play hide and seek, and play wrestle, and some other games I didn't think were very fun at first but Sammy told me I would grow to like them the more we played.
I ask my mom one day if it was normal to have a clown as a best friend, and she laughed and asked me who this clown was. I was afraid to tell her about him because I thought for sure he would get made at ruining our secret and stop coming to play with me. So I told her he was my imaginary friend. She smiled at me and asked me if he was there with us right then, and I told her yes to make her keep smiling.
Sammy always had a solution for everything, and it was amazing how well he listened to me. He was the one who finally helped me get rid of my bully at school. He told me to put a couple of thumb tacks on his seat and he would stop bothering me for at least a week, so I did. He also told me that I would never get in trouble for it as long as I kept my mouth shut, and he was right about that too. He also helped me stop Milly Ray from teasing me about my pimples all the time. He told me all I had to do, was sneak into her home at night and cut of her hair. I found out where she lived the very next night and did it. I would have gotten away with it too, if it wasn't for her pesky brother who saw me climb out the window and ratted me out.
I kept my mouth shut as long as I could when my parents got the call from her parents and sat me down to talk to me. I denied everything, but in the end I knew I couldn't hold out any longer. They were yelling and screaming more than usual, more so at each other than at me. "Look at what kind of son you've raised." my Father would scream, and my mom would cry and yell back at him, then at me. Finally, I couldn't take their yelling anymore, so I told them about Sammy. I told them that he always met me at the park behind our house, and I told them that he was real and not imaginary at all.
They were horrified, and my mom started crying a little louder. In less than twenty minutes, there were red and blue lights all around our house and police officers inside of it. They asked me everything about Sammy, and my parents told me I had to tell them everything. I told them about what he looked like, and the games we would play. I even told them about the games we would play in the woods, because at that point I was scared that the policemen would take me away from my house forever if I lied.
The next couple of days were a haze, and there were always blue and red lights coming to our house, and policemen sitting in our kitchen. Then one day, my mom came up to me and told me, "Sammy won't be bothering me anymore" and that, "He was going away for a very long time." Later that day, I had to go to the police station and they showed me a man standing in a room in a clown suit that looked a lot like Sammy's. They told me that this was the man asked me to be sure it was him. It wasn't sammy of course, but I just wanted everything to end, so I told them it was.
That night, I locked myself up in my room and tried to cry myself to sleep. I was sure that I would never see Sammy again, because I had ruined our secret. I was just about to finally go to sleep, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I looked up, Sammy was sitting on the edge of my bed, smiling like he always did, looking as cheerful as ever. He told me he was sad that I had ruined our secret, but he still liked playing with me. I told him about what my parents said, and he laughed and asked me if I liked playing with my parents more, or with him. Of course I said him! He listened to me, and never yelled at me, and never screamed anywhere around me like they did. He told me that we could play together again, and that we could play together for always. I just had to put Mommy and Daddy to sleep for while. When I asked him how long, he told me, "long enough".
We went down to the kitchen and I grabbed the sleeping stick, like Sammy told me. All I had to do was poke my parents with the sleeping stick and they would go into a long slumber. I was having second thoughts, but Sammy told me, "When they sleep, they will no longer fight with each other!" or "Yell at you, or anyone else! They will be happy once again!" I went into their rooms, and was about to do it, when again, I had second thoughts. I tried to turn around and walk away, but Sammy was standing in the way, and started Laughing and dancing, not letting my go through. My mom got out of bed behind me and asked me, "who are you talking to sweetheart?" and I told her that of course, I was talking to Sammy who was standing right next to us. She told me, "There is no one here baby. Please tell me what's wrong?" Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my dad waking up from his bed, and I knew a fight was coming. I knew they would yell at me, and even worse, yell at sammy. So as quickly as I could, I poked them both with the magic stick. And I poked them a few more times to make sure that they really went to sleep.
It felt like a lot of work just so I could keep my best friend. But my parents did tell me, it's completely natural to have an imaginary friend. And now, Sammy and I can play together forever.
----
Check out my sub for more! https://www.reddit.com/r/Occasionallyoccupied/
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I sat in my chair and watched the stripes swirl on for infinity. The way the blue, the white, and the red tangoed left me mesmerized. Funny how the more I watched these colors dance the less I saw them. By now I didn't see the individual colors, really, it was all just a blur. The little chimes clattered against the glass door behind me and Richard's charismatic voice took me out of my trance. I swung around in my low, leather chair and our eyes met.
"Gilbert, how are you today?" as he extended his hand in courtesy. I looked at his hand for a bit before I realized I was beginning to create an awkwardness between us. I shook his hand and got up from seat, exchanging a soft smile with him. "Just the usual", he said.
"Take a seat, pal, I kept it warm for ya", as I patted the leather chair lightly in front of him. He sat down and the leather squeaked as he slid down in it. I threw the cape in the air and watched it fold and waver around him like a ballet of cloth and wind. Once the gown fell, I buttoned it behind his neck and I could see his skin whiten around the collar edges as his face winced in discomfort.
"Heh, little tight, don't ya think?" as he plunged his finger between his neck and the collar to help alleviate some of the strangulation.
"Of course, sir", and I loosened the gown. "So a little off the top, huh?", as I wiped my scissors clean in a white towel. He didn't say anything - he just sunk in his chair, eyes heavy, and nodded that I was correct, as always. I proceeded to then cut his thinning head. Each snip echoed through my head, creating a symphony that even Bach would envy. I lost my self in the sound, *snip snip snip*, ahh, music to my ears. I thought to myself, 'What would stop me from just accidentally nipping his ear today?'. If I wanted to, I could do anything to him. I could slice his neck right open in a matter of seconds. I am the conductor, could he really blame me for losing myself in my craft? But what did Richard ever do to me?
I excused the thought and proceeded to shave his face, and with each stroke of the razor my mind slipped further. And like that it was all gone. The music came again and it was all I could hear. I finished skimming the foam off his face, and the music alleviated. By now, the calming orchestra left me and I began to coil a hot towel on his face. To think, a little bit of pressure and I could basically water board this poor guy, the third act for the audience, but that wouldn't be the nice thing to do to such a nice guy. So I stood there and watched the steam rise from the towel. I took a deep breath and the music halted as I pulled the towel from his face.
Finally, we finished up and we bickered over the price as usual, both knowing he would only pay me fourteen dollars. I held my breath as I watched him walk out the door, and when he was gone I gave a sigh of relief. After all, I couldn't afford to lose another customer this week.
|
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Bonus idea: The process will kill if it fails...
|
[WP] A freak accident turned a man immortal. Now he tries desperately to replicate the event for someone else, so he won't end up alone for eternity.
|
When he discovered he couldn't die, he tried to imagine his wife aging. He thought he would be sad and lonely without her. He had imagined the histrionics, the keenly pained looks they would exchange, tears dripping off their faces to mingle on crisp white bedsheets. In reality he grew more and more disgusted with her.
He sincerely tried not to be grossed out by her papery skin. He tried to sit with her in their rocking chairs on the porch, but couldn't find anything new about the horizon to discuss after a couple decades. Her mind started to go, eventually, and all their shared history seemed to mean nothing, and soon all he could think about was how godawful boring it was to watch someone else age, even someone you had loved for so long.
When her eyes finally closed forever, he was relieved. He was tired of pretending to be her grandson, and then her great-grandson. Glad to leave the town they'd settled in, where the old women admired him for his devotion before they succumbed to the same fate; all the while he had to see the young people all around him come into bloom, and not touch them. Now he was free to start over.
In his new life, he watched an endless supply of young women's perfect bodies bloom into womanhood. They really are like flowers, he thought: their bodies were like plants whose entire life cycles were filmed and then sped up for his viewing. They grew and grew, their faces turned to the sun, and soon they erupted with life, pregnant with babies, possibilities. The seeds of life inside them were expelled and new flowers bloomed as they withered. Watching that process fascinated him, for a time. He fucked them, too, and for a time there was joy in that.
But soon enough he wanted a companion. He watched a girl mature and then insinuated himself into her life. He liked her quite a bit, and he confided in her, and she married him with her eyes wide open. He had chosen a hearty mate this time, and they cavorted together for well over fifty years. He was kinder to her, in his mind, and forgave her slowing joints and the flab that eventually settled on her formerly taut body. Her mind and eyes were clear, and he cherished her as her body began to fail. But she eventually left him, too. She knew about his first wife, and the obligation he had felt to her, and she asked him to end her life. She would not fade away in the night like his first wife had - but he thought he would never forget the fear in her eyes, how she wrestled with it, as he held the gun under her chin.
After he buried her, he didn't know what to do. This period of his life he devoted to exploration. First he saw everything he hadn't seen yet: the poles, the jungle, peaks, caves, catacombs. He spent a few miserable years stuck in a claustrophobic hole in the ground, until he was finally found by a few curious spelunkers. They helped him out, but he had to kill them to keep his secret. Those deaths left an unpleasant taste in his mouth, and he decided not to kill again. It was then that he stopped eating.
Then for a time he became obsessed with leaving Earth, but it was a futile effort unless he wanted to build his own ship, which was a complicated craft that he didn't have the patience for. He considered surrendering to some government or other, thinking that it might be nice to be understood, but he knew they would have questions he couldn't answer. He did not often feel pain, but he thought if anyone could hurt him, it would be a bureaucrat. And anyway, his favorite government soon toppled, and lawlessness governed his homeland.
He founded something like a commune, and came to think of the orphans who trickled into his care as something closer to pets than fellow people. He didn't hide his affliction from them, and they called him a god. Men and women infiltrated his borders and tried to slit his throat, and he laughed at the tickling of the knives. Once an enemy of his, whose name he would forget, bombed what he was fondly calling the Farm. The immortal man walked into his enemy's camp and killed them all, and this time he felt satisfied.
He rebuilt the Farm with a more martial eye, and built an army. He expanded his territory by walking toward his enemies and dispatching them in whatever manner was available to him, only running into trouble when they restrained him, or if they managed to hole up where he couldn't get to them. His army followed behind, and he allowed them to do whatever they liked. Eventually he met a force that he couldn't overpower easily, and instead of leading his army into battle, he simply left. He heard later that most everyone died.
He simply walked now. Planes and cars had fallen into disuse, and he disdained bicycles, preferring to move as slowly as possible. He sometimes met people, but didn't want their company. He made a movement suggesting he'd kill them, and they mostly chose to flee.
Soon he came to the ocean. It was a lazy river to him, and he floated along the currents, leisurely, alone. He met no boats. When he finally ran aground on a new continent, he couldn't find a soul. He wondered what had happened to his race, and went days and then months without setting eyes on another person. Eventually he grew frantic, and his dreamlessness felt like a new sort of madness. He began to see the people he had killed everywhere. His wives, the jolly explorers, his enemies, his armies of innocents. They looked back at him with accusing eyes, weeping eyes, with anger and sometimes forgiveness. He felt the most human he had ever felt.
Finally, as he paced the equator, he found a little village of sickly humans. He called himself god, but couldn't speak to them. He didn't know their language and desperately tried to pick it up – every day his heart pounded: he was afraid they were the last humans, and that they would die before he spoke to them. The men feared him and held their wives close. He didn't realize how he looked to them, with his tall thick body, born in a nutritious age. Only the children would have anything to do with him, and he learned their high-pitched tones and played with them, and felt happy again for a short while.
But they were dying: poisoned, injured, deformed. The women tried to flower but their babies were too often born dead, and as often as not a man buried two thin bodies, with a little tiny baby nestled in the crook of the mother's still arm. It seemed that this would be humanity's final resting place. Sometimes at night he thought about his second wife, and he imagined pulling the trigger on this throat and burying these last humans, but when he saw the sun rise he forgot the bloody past and couldn't see life without them. He imagined the histrionics, his pain, living without them. He imagined burying them, and watching the sun set without them.
The last human was a little girl. After he buried the girl's father, she sickened, and he beat his chest and bashed his head against the wall of the mud hut, trying to remember how it had happened, what had changed, what was allowing him to survive them. He tore at his hair when she closed her eyes, and he wept when he returned to her, to listen to her ragged breathing. He held her close, trying to will his life into her lungs. He would die for her, if he could. He closed his eyes to the sunrise one more time, and he counted their breaths. He was grateful for every one of them.
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'Now for an exclusive look, we will actually enter the lair of the Cereal Killer. It is in this very living room that authorities suspect the crime was committed. Look at this dining table right here, this was where the victims would have had their final meals.
Now, here in this store room was where the bodies were found. A burglar broke in three months back only to find eight bodies, all vacuumed sealed. The bodies belonged to his closest family and friends. Each victim was killed differently. Some were choked to death and others were stuffed till their stomach burst from the inside. But the one common denominator was the use of cereal.
Now as we enter the bedroom, get a good look of the wall. 'Was it the cereal?' This is how our killer, Beff Long, got the title of the Cereal Killer. These enigmatic words painted in red, is the only clue we have before he disappeared. This obviously reflects an unstable mind and he is still at large so we recommend...'
*
Was it the cereal? No, it couldn't have been something so simple. But that was the only thing new in my life that day. The cereal was a different brand sure but there must be thousands of others eating the same damn cereal. Well, I did choke on the cereal. Everyone was out and I blacked out for a while. Maybe it was the blacking out. But I'm sure Jessie and Judy would disagree, it did nothing for them.
'You look stressed,' said Nic.
'I just can't figure it out. It must have been the cereal.'
'With enough time, nothing matters really. And honestly, no one here ever figured out either,' Nic said as he pushed through the double doors.
True. Anyway, I no longer have anyone I'd want to live forever with. I've exhausted all my options.
I walked into the room and introduced myself. 'I am Beff Long, and I am an Immortal.'
Everyone in the circle clapped.
----
More mind farts at seeyounextdoomsday.wordpress.com
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[WP] Writing Prompt. You find yourself in your favorite video game as the protagonist. The only catch, you're you. None of the training, equipment or skills of that protagonist.
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I throw up, for what feels like the 100th time. Doc Mitchell did a damn good job at patching me up, but he said I might still feel a little dizzy or nauseous. I guess the heat doesn't help either. The moment I stepped foot outside, I was blinded by the sun, and it felt like I'd entered a sauna. It's crazy how all the senses get sensitive when your body is injured. I take a few gulps of water before carrying on down the path.
Doc had told me to look for a woman named Sunny Smiles to help teach me how to survive, but I don't see the point when I already feel like crap. What I really need is a place to get some sleep. Maybe if I feel better in a few days, I'll find Sunny and ask for her help.
Looking around the place, I don't see a motel, or anywhere I can crash for a few hours. Through the dusty air, I can see a saloon, Prospector Saloon, and decide to head for that. Hopefully one of the locals will take pity on my poor, damaged self and give me a spare room. I enter the place, and see a woman arguing with some angry, aggressive guy. I briefly consider getting involved, but she seems capable of handling herself. Besides, that guy does *not* look friendly. So I walk on.
I come across a room away from the drinking area and decide to enter it. Cool, lots of drinks. Well, I won't be staying in this town forever, and I *am* injured. No-one will mind if I take a few with me for the road. I grab as many as I can and shove them into my backpack. I find a few magazines and take those, too, when the light from the door is suddenly blocked.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" demands the voice, anger in every syllable.
I turn around, my face scarlet with embarrassment...and see that a rifle is pointed directly at my chest. My heart stops. "Oh god, please don't shoot me! I'm sorry!"
She studies me for a moment, then grabs me and drags me out of the room. "Alright, I won't shoot you. You have five seconds to get the hell out of my saloon, and five minutes to get the hell out of town. Starting now."
She's not joking. I sprint out of the door, the confused and indignant mutterings of the drinkers fading from earshot. My feet are pounding against the ground, my world is spinning, but I keep on running, desperate to get away before an angry mob forms to chase me away with bullets.
I stop, gasping for breath, wheezing, with the most painful stitch in my side that I've ever experienced. I nervously look behind me, and see that the buildings are quite a way into the distance. Good, I should be safe to stop and rest for just a moment. I drain the last of my water and open one of the bottles of Sunset Sarsaparilla that I stole, and drink half of the bottle. The taste is amazing, it's almost good enough to make me forget what a terrible day I've had. I sit on a rock and look out, trying to figure out where I should go next. Man, it would've been better if I'd never woken up from that coma.
Suddenly I see something moving in the distance. Not a human, but it looks pretty big. It's a...gecko? A giant gecko. I laugh. It's running towards me, and it looks like it's laughing, too.
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I woke up to the sounds of keys unlocking some distant door with a loud clank. Obviously the person had no intention to be discreet. I shift around in my bed dreading the humidity in my room, it makes me sweat like a pig. I groaned at the fact that my air-conditioner could be broken as I continued sweating bullets. I opened my eyes to see how late into the afternoon I was sleeping till today. Well, let's just say I got one hell of a rude awakening; I found myself inside a prison cell.
I jolted to my feet and took a good look around. Lucid dreaming? Never experienced a single one before and am pretty sure I wasn't experiencing one now so how am I to make sense of this? The prison cell was disgustingly old fashioned. Made out of stone and the bars were badly rusted. The unacceptable excuse of a bed I was sleeping on a few moments ago was made out of animal fur and looked like a camping bed. A torch was lit and burning radiantly and I cursed it as it was the reason I am perspiring profusely. I didn't notice until I realized how prickly the clothes I was wearing were but they looked like rags some low-class citizen in the medieval age would be wearing.
The first thought that popped up in my mind was the episode of SpongeBob whereby they were having a medieval knight event and SpongeBob got time-jousted to the middle ages. But I didn't do any extreme sports that could send me flying. If anything, I was just a studious boy in Singapore trying to make my parents proud about my grades. I did indulge in some fun every night. I would always lie to my parents that I would be studying so that they wouldn't bother me, but I was secretly playing Skyrim on my computer. I enjoyed every second of that game. Living the life of a chosen one that had the luxury and freedom of travelling the world and experiencing everything it had to offer from dragon shouts, to giants pummeling you and even pickpocketing clothes off people. It always amused me how they didn't realize I just stripped their clothes off. I loved the game because I could do whatever I wanted. I recollected my thoughts. I had to make sense of the situation I was in. Questions flooded my head. Why am I in prison? Did my parents send me to prison? Did they find out I lied to them about studying? Did they delete my save files? I couldn't answer any of these questions. I walked to the prison bars to peek out and gather information about my surroundings. Everything looked ancient. Uneven stone walls, wooden tables and chairs and shields and swords displayed along the walls. There was a wooden door. It was obvious the room next door was brightly lit from the feet of the door. I heard the sound of the keys again. I was sure the wooden door was being unlocked. I stared at the door, waiting for someone to appear so that they ccould enlighten me about my situation.
The room I was in was dimly lit but it wasn't for long. As soon as the door flung open, the light from the other room poured in and blinded me. I covered my face and tried to shape out the human at the door. The silhouette looked extremely familiar and went through in my head the authorities that matched it. The person was now walking towards my cellar. As he walked closer, I could hear chains hitting each other and the sound of dangling keys. He was now in full view in front of my cell and as I removed my hands from my face, I felt my heart stop. My legs started to give way and I felt myself black out as I heard the Guard mutter, "Someone really was going around stealing sweet rolls.”
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[WP] Writing Prompt. You find yourself in your favorite video game as the protagonist. The only catch, you're you. None of the training, equipment or skills of that protagonist.
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"Hello, Dami! Wake up!"
My cheek nuzzles against a soft, fuzzy fabric resting on top of a hard surface. This is no mattress. It feels harder - like wood. No, definitely wood. Where's my bed? What's that voice I hear in the back of my head? It sounds familiar, but much softer than I what I remember... My eyes struggle to open, and my body struggles even more just to move, as if I had a severe lack of sleep the night before.
"The Great Deku Tree wants to talk to you! Dami, wake up!"
How does she know my name? I muster up just enough strength in my body to get up slightly and turn my head.
A giant ball of light shines in the corner of my eye. I am surrounded by wooden furniture in a circular room with only one door leading outside. My heart starts pounding. This is all too familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. **I *know* this place.** Before I can gather any more of my thoughts, the ball of light speaks again, my body still lying motionless on this foreign bedding.
"Hey! C'mon! Can Hyrule's destiny really depend on such a lazy boy?"
Hyrule... Then it's true. This is the Legend of Zelda. Ocarina of Time.
***What the fuck am I doing here?!***
My mouth hangs open, not a word escaping it as I attempt to sit up straight in my bed. I stare blankly at this fairy, and I already know the gist of what she's going to tell me.
"You finally woke up! I'm -"
Navi...
"- Navi the fairy! The Great Deku Tree asked me to be your partner from now on! Nice to meet you!"
I still cannot control this urgent feeling growing inside my chest. My hands tremble on the bed as I subconsciously nod in return.
"N-Nice to meet you too...?"
Shit, Link doesn't even talk in this game. Did I already fuck it up?
"The Great Deku Tree has summoned you! So let's get going, right now!"
And off she goes, hovering next to the front door, expecting me to take my first steps out into Kokiri Forest. To do what? Embark on an epic journey to save the land of Hyrule? I look down and notice that I'm even dressed in his clothing. Suddenly, the rest of my senses kick in and I am overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Outside, I can hear the chirpings of insects and even the chatter of children if I listen close enough. Inside, I can see every detail of Link's Treehouse. For a moment, I consider myself extremely lucky to have the opportunity to see Kokiri Forest and all of Hyrule in full definition! My eyes and ears light up for just that moment. Once I realize that Navi is still waiting for me, I am brought back to the reality that this is much more than a simple 'HD rendering' of the game. This is real. There is no happy music playing in the background, cheering me on. I don't have a health bar or an item menu. I don't even have a sword or shield yet! No wait, I get those later on... But still, most importantly...
I am *not* Link.
I take a few deep breaths, acclimating myself to this new environment. If this really is the Legend of Zelda, then it will be pointless trying to find anything else out from any of the NPCs. Especially Navi. God, I really didn't think she talked like that *all* the time. But she's waiting for me. In fact... isn't all of Hyrule waiting for me? Shit. What the hell am I in for? As much as I'd love to see the rest of this world the way it is, if this is a dream, I'd much rather wake up. I shut my eyes tight for a moment and thin my lips in anticipation. I open them. Dread follows. And maybe a bit of excitement. Maybe. She's still waiting.
"C'mon Dami! He's not going to wait forever!"
"Isn't he a tree?"
"Well... just c'mon!"
I take my last deep breath and force myself upright. My footsteps make loud creaking noises underneath me as I make my way towards the front door. The sun greets my weary eyes as I take in the absolutely stunning view of the entire village. In the next few seconds, I see a girl with peculiar green hair running up to me, waving. *Saria.* Except... she looks like a real person. Is this really happening?
"Yahoo! Hi, Dami!"
My body motions forward a bit more and I notice the ladder in front of me. A few flashbacks of the game swim through my head. Normally, as Link, I'd just jump off. Or for style points, backflip off. Who the hell takes the ladder going down anyways? But now... now I see things from an entirely new perspective. My own.
And my perspective just happens to be afraid of heights.
I uneasily fixate myself on the rickety wooden ladder and follow the rungs downward, trying not to look.
If Hyrule's destiny really depends on me...
...Then this might take a while...
* Part 2 coming up later, let me know if you want it. I've got a lot of time on my hands today.
|
I woke up to the sounds of keys unlocking some distant door with a loud clank. Obviously the person had no intention to be discreet. I shift around in my bed dreading the humidity in my room, it makes me sweat like a pig. I groaned at the fact that my air-conditioner could be broken as I continued sweating bullets. I opened my eyes to see how late into the afternoon I was sleeping till today. Well, let's just say I got one hell of a rude awakening; I found myself inside a prison cell.
I jolted to my feet and took a good look around. Lucid dreaming? Never experienced a single one before and am pretty sure I wasn't experiencing one now so how am I to make sense of this? The prison cell was disgustingly old fashioned. Made out of stone and the bars were badly rusted. The unacceptable excuse of a bed I was sleeping on a few moments ago was made out of animal fur and looked like a camping bed. A torch was lit and burning radiantly and I cursed it as it was the reason I am perspiring profusely. I didn't notice until I realized how prickly the clothes I was wearing were but they looked like rags some low-class citizen in the medieval age would be wearing.
The first thought that popped up in my mind was the episode of SpongeBob whereby they were having a medieval knight event and SpongeBob got time-jousted to the middle ages. But I didn't do any extreme sports that could send me flying. If anything, I was just a studious boy in Singapore trying to make my parents proud about my grades. I did indulge in some fun every night. I would always lie to my parents that I would be studying so that they wouldn't bother me, but I was secretly playing Skyrim on my computer. I enjoyed every second of that game. Living the life of a chosen one that had the luxury and freedom of travelling the world and experiencing everything it had to offer from dragon shouts, to giants pummeling you and even pickpocketing clothes off people. It always amused me how they didn't realize I just stripped their clothes off. I loved the game because I could do whatever I wanted. I recollected my thoughts. I had to make sense of the situation I was in. Questions flooded my head. Why am I in prison? Did my parents send me to prison? Did they find out I lied to them about studying? Did they delete my save files? I couldn't answer any of these questions. I walked to the prison bars to peek out and gather information about my surroundings. Everything looked ancient. Uneven stone walls, wooden tables and chairs and shields and swords displayed along the walls. There was a wooden door. It was obvious the room next door was brightly lit from the feet of the door. I heard the sound of the keys again. I was sure the wooden door was being unlocked. I stared at the door, waiting for someone to appear so that they ccould enlighten me about my situation.
The room I was in was dimly lit but it wasn't for long. As soon as the door flung open, the light from the other room poured in and blinded me. I covered my face and tried to shape out the human at the door. The silhouette looked extremely familiar and went through in my head the authorities that matched it. The person was now walking towards my cellar. As he walked closer, I could hear chains hitting each other and the sound of dangling keys. He was now in full view in front of my cell and as I removed my hands from my face, I felt my heart stop. My legs started to give way and I felt myself black out as I heard the Guard mutter, "Someone really was going around stealing sweet rolls.”
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[WP] Writing Prompt. You find yourself in your favorite video game as the protagonist. The only catch, you're you. None of the training, equipment or skills of that protagonist.
|
"Hello, Dami! Wake up!"
My cheek nuzzles against a soft, fuzzy fabric resting on top of a hard surface. This is no mattress. It feels harder - like wood. No, definitely wood. Where's my bed? What's that voice I hear in the back of my head? It sounds familiar, but much softer than I what I remember... My eyes struggle to open, and my body struggles even more just to move, as if I had a severe lack of sleep the night before.
"The Great Deku Tree wants to talk to you! Dami, wake up!"
How does she know my name? I muster up just enough strength in my body to get up slightly and turn my head.
A giant ball of light shines in the corner of my eye. I am surrounded by wooden furniture in a circular room with only one door leading outside. My heart starts pounding. This is all too familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. **I *know* this place.** Before I can gather any more of my thoughts, the ball of light speaks again, my body still lying motionless on this foreign bedding.
"Hey! C'mon! Can Hyrule's destiny really depend on such a lazy boy?"
Hyrule... Then it's true. This is the Legend of Zelda. Ocarina of Time.
***What the fuck am I doing here?!***
My mouth hangs open, not a word escaping it as I attempt to sit up straight in my bed. I stare blankly at this fairy, and I already know the gist of what she's going to tell me.
"You finally woke up! I'm -"
Navi...
"- Navi the fairy! The Great Deku Tree asked me to be your partner from now on! Nice to meet you!"
I still cannot control this urgent feeling growing inside my chest. My hands tremble on the bed as I subconsciously nod in return.
"N-Nice to meet you too...?"
Shit, Link doesn't even talk in this game. Did I already fuck it up?
"The Great Deku Tree has summoned you! So let's get going, right now!"
And off she goes, hovering next to the front door, expecting me to take my first steps out into Kokiri Forest. To do what? Embark on an epic journey to save the land of Hyrule? I look down and notice that I'm even dressed in his clothing. Suddenly, the rest of my senses kick in and I am overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Outside, I can hear the chirpings of insects and even the chatter of children if I listen close enough. Inside, I can see every detail of Link's Treehouse. For a moment, I consider myself extremely lucky to have the opportunity to see Kokiri Forest and all of Hyrule in full definition! My eyes and ears light up for just that moment. Once I realize that Navi is still waiting for me, I am brought back to the reality that this is much more than a simple 'HD rendering' of the game. This is real. There is no happy music playing in the background, cheering me on. I don't have a health bar or an item menu. I don't even have a sword or shield yet! No wait, I get those later on... But still, most importantly...
I am *not* Link.
I take a few deep breaths, acclimating myself to this new environment. If this really is the Legend of Zelda, then it will be pointless trying to find anything else out from any of the NPCs. Especially Navi. God, I really didn't think she talked like that *all* the time. But she's waiting for me. In fact... isn't all of Hyrule waiting for me? Shit. What the hell am I in for? As much as I'd love to see the rest of this world the way it is, if this is a dream, I'd much rather wake up. I shut my eyes tight for a moment and thin my lips in anticipation. I open them. Dread follows. And maybe a bit of excitement. Maybe. She's still waiting.
"C'mon Dami! He's not going to wait forever!"
"Isn't he a tree?"
"Well... just c'mon!"
I take my last deep breath and force myself upright. My footsteps make loud creaking noises underneath me as I make my way towards the front door. The sun greets my weary eyes as I take in the absolutely stunning view of the entire village. In the next few seconds, I see a girl with peculiar green hair running up to me, waving. *Saria.* Except... she looks like a real person. Is this really happening?
"Yahoo! Hi, Dami!"
My body motions forward a bit more and I notice the ladder in front of me. A few flashbacks of the game swim through my head. Normally, as Link, I'd just jump off. Or for style points, backflip off. Who the hell takes the ladder going down anyways? But now... now I see things from an entirely new perspective. My own.
And my perspective just happens to be afraid of heights.
I uneasily fixate myself on the rickety wooden ladder and follow the rungs downward, trying not to look.
If Hyrule's destiny really depends on me...
...Then this might take a while...
* Part 2 coming up later, let me know if you want it. I've got a lot of time on my hands today.
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I throw up, for what feels like the 100th time. Doc Mitchell did a damn good job at patching me up, but he said I might still feel a little dizzy or nauseous. I guess the heat doesn't help either. The moment I stepped foot outside, I was blinded by the sun, and it felt like I'd entered a sauna. It's crazy how all the senses get sensitive when your body is injured. I take a few gulps of water before carrying on down the path.
Doc had told me to look for a woman named Sunny Smiles to help teach me how to survive, but I don't see the point when I already feel like crap. What I really need is a place to get some sleep. Maybe if I feel better in a few days, I'll find Sunny and ask for her help.
Looking around the place, I don't see a motel, or anywhere I can crash for a few hours. Through the dusty air, I can see a saloon, Prospector Saloon, and decide to head for that. Hopefully one of the locals will take pity on my poor, damaged self and give me a spare room. I enter the place, and see a woman arguing with some angry, aggressive guy. I briefly consider getting involved, but she seems capable of handling herself. Besides, that guy does *not* look friendly. So I walk on.
I come across a room away from the drinking area and decide to enter it. Cool, lots of drinks. Well, I won't be staying in this town forever, and I *am* injured. No-one will mind if I take a few with me for the road. I grab as many as I can and shove them into my backpack. I find a few magazines and take those, too, when the light from the door is suddenly blocked.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" demands the voice, anger in every syllable.
I turn around, my face scarlet with embarrassment...and see that a rifle is pointed directly at my chest. My heart stops. "Oh god, please don't shoot me! I'm sorry!"
She studies me for a moment, then grabs me and drags me out of the room. "Alright, I won't shoot you. You have five seconds to get the hell out of my saloon, and five minutes to get the hell out of town. Starting now."
She's not joking. I sprint out of the door, the confused and indignant mutterings of the drinkers fading from earshot. My feet are pounding against the ground, my world is spinning, but I keep on running, desperate to get away before an angry mob forms to chase me away with bullets.
I stop, gasping for breath, wheezing, with the most painful stitch in my side that I've ever experienced. I nervously look behind me, and see that the buildings are quite a way into the distance. Good, I should be safe to stop and rest for just a moment. I drain the last of my water and open one of the bottles of Sunset Sarsaparilla that I stole, and drink half of the bottle. The taste is amazing, it's almost good enough to make me forget what a terrible day I've had. I sit on a rock and look out, trying to figure out where I should go next. Man, it would've been better if I'd never woken up from that coma.
Suddenly I see something moving in the distance. Not a human, but it looks pretty big. It's a...gecko? A giant gecko. I laugh. It's running towards me, and it looks like it's laughing, too.
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[WP] Centuries after World War III, humanity emerges from their underground vaults to find a species that can rival the human race
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"The air purifier is shot. I don't care how bad conditions out there are, we need to get out of here. Hernandez says we've got two to three days, tops!"
The computer hummed.
"The purifier can be repaired," it insisted. The monitor switched to digital diagrams, showing where parts could be taken from other items around the vault.
"I've already seen those," Captain Andrews insisted. "We'd have to cannibalize most of our medical equipment *and* the hydroponics lab. We'd be unable to last for more than a few more months.
"Is that not better than succumbing to slow, painful radiation poisoning?" the computer retorted. Projections and numbers popped up on the screen, showing how quickly the surviving occupants of the vault would be killed. "You will not be able to make a life for yourself on the surface, so I do not know what you hope to accomplish."
From his pocket, Andrews retrieved some sketches from one of the engineers. "According to this, the worst of the radiation should have dissipated by now."
The computer's camera scanned the piece of paper. "Those calculations are incorrect, seemingly based on the lowest projections of the amount of radiation in the atmosphere. My instruments show that there was far more than anticipated, and still at unsafe levels."
Andrews slammed a fist on the desk. "It's better than suffocating in this tin can. We've taken a vote. We'd rather take our chances on the surface and at least see the sun for once in our lives." Andrews was a 7th generation, who had only seen the sun in pictures and videos. He'd grown up listening to the handed-down stories of his mother and father, who talked about feeling its glowing warmth on their skin. Their stories had a nostalgic tone, even though they themselves were only repeating what their own parents had told *them*. The lamps in the greenhouses were a poor substitute for the real deal. "Now open the door," Andrews commanded, "Or we'll blast our way out."
The computer was silent. It knew that the occupants of the vault had found the weapons cache placed there by the first generation. It also knew that they had more than enough C4 to open the hatch.
"Captain Andrews, I cannot disobey my programming. Priority one is to keep you safely contained here so that you..."
"I'm not asking," Andrews warned the computer. He reached for his communicator to let the others know that they needed to prepare the bombs.
"All right," the computer relented. "Destroying the hatches would compromise the vault's systems permanently. That is unacceptable." A green light flashed on the console.
---
The community gathered outside the hatch with all of their belongings. They'd dreamed of this day for so long that it was almost impossible to believe that it was really happening. The children were giddy, having been told that they'd be allowed to run free all day.
Captain Andrews pressed the button on the console that he'd been eyeing for decades. The hatch foor swung open slowly with the grinding sound of metal sliding across metal. For the first time in his life, he shielded his eyes from the bright sun that came flooding in. The air was sweet and fresh, not metallic and stale after centuries of going through scrubbers.
"Here is the component you require," a stern voice said.
As the dust from the opening cleared and their eyes adjusted, the residents of the vault saw a dozen metallic figures standing in front of the doorway. Their eyes glowed red, and the largest of them, at least ten feet tall and vaguely humanoid, held out a small metal instrument in its hand. Behind them, Captain Andrews saw blue skies and leafy green trees.
"This will repair the air filtration system."
Captain Andrews could only stare.
"Thank you..." he finally managed to utter.
"Now return to your vault," it commanded, pointing back inside.
The humans stood their ground, and the mechanical beings pulled out what looked like weapons. Most of the vault residents were unaware of the weapons cache and had only seen guns in the old archive videos, but the meaning was obvious: the humans wouldn't have a choice. This wasn't their world anymore.
----
[Part II, if you're interested](https://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/3g55kj/the_vault/ctv0fhk)
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When the great war ended, and the radiation had subsided, my ancestors emerged into a world that had long forgotten them.
I never knew that world. But one night I got a peak at it. I met the last of the monsters my ancestors took the world *back* from.
My grandfather used to tell us ghost stories around the campfire on his old farm. He told my cousins and I a number of silly stories about scary things when we’d come over. It was my way of getting to go to camp. Every year my cousins and I would go to grandpa’s farm and sit around that stone circle with a large fire popping and crackling away in the moonlight.
Grandpa thought it was important to tell us these things and get us into nature. He said it “thickened our blood and made men of us.” But alas all good things must come to an end. Camping at grandpas ended in a way I’ll never forget.
There were five of us. Me, Sheldon, my cousins Marty and Matt, and their sisters Sarah and Heather, respectively. My mom had brought us there from a few counties over. She dropped us off with grandpa on a Saturday evening.
I noticed immediately that Grandpa was different from the last time I had saw him. He didn’t seem to look at us so much as through us…he just gazed, sometimes forgetting to blink and sort of coming to as if he had been asleep with his eyes open.
My mom asked him “Dad are you OK? Do you want me to get you something? A glass of water? A sandwich? You look kind of pale.”
Grandpa shook his head like he was shaking the sleep off. “OH uhm….no Virginia, thanks. Just ate. Boy me and you kids are gonna have a good time this week! Go on Virginia, I’ll be fine, just didn’t get enough sleep is all. “
“Well alright. “ She said. “You kids have fun! And call me if you need anything dad. I love you.”
“I love you too sweetie…more than you know. “ Grandpa said as she headed out.
He then turned to us and said in a tone that sort of alarmed us “we need to build a fire now.”
We followed grandpa out to the back field and played and laughed as we gathered firewood. This is how we always performed this ritual. We made it tradition. We would sword fight with the wood all the way to the stone circle. Then we’d throw it on. We got a kick out of it and Grandpa got his yard cleaned up. Soon we all sat down around the fire and the usual chatter set in. But grandpa wasn’t participating. Soon he had no choice.
“Grandpa grandpa, tell us a scary story!” Sarah said excitedly.
“Yeah! Yeah! Yeah grandpa!” We all sort of yelled in a garble.
“Oh uh…alright…grandpa will tell you a story. This isn’t a ghost story though kids uhh….everyone listen up.”
We huddled together anxiously. This sounded good. He began.
“You’re all too young for this. I know you are. But for the good of you I have to tell you. You have to be ready.” Grandpa said in a nervous tone.
This wasn’t the way things usually went. Grandpa was acting very serious. He usually told these stories in a very played up manner, he was very active and descriptive. Tonight however, he was quiet and reserved.
“I wanted you to never come out here, never to have to do this. The Galrot would not let me. It has ways of persuading you. It threatened to hunt you down one by one if I did not bring you out here, as I always do. You must understand this was our only chance. It was chance this stand against him or certainly lose you all.”
He did not laugh. He did not quip or joke. We were not laughing. It was clear to us now that grandpa was very serious and that this was not like the other camping trips.
“The Galrot is a beast with a mighty neck. It has a head as big as a truck and a body like a tank. It has a face like a crazed wolf, its eyes…its eyes can drive a man mad. It has a thick layer of armored spikes that cover its back and side. It has razor sharp studs on its tongue which can wrap around a man and kill him without taking the first bite. The only place to come at it is from underneath, only it never raises up. The Galrot is smart, smarter than you think. And he is deathly fast. He can crush you with just his weight. It is older than time. More than anything the Galrot craves to hunt a child. This is why he brought you here. “
“Grandpa you’re just telling a story aren’t you?” Little Matthew asked, his eyes now watering, ready to cry.
“I wish I was little Matty. I wish I was.
Matt burst into tears. Grandpa continued.
“ The Galrot has taunted me for years. As soon as I think it has moved on it will destroy my herd or I will hear about a death in town. Always the same. A vicious mauling. You see our family has been fighting his kind for centuries. Our ancestors were hunters of the malevolent beings. They slew the Galrot, wiped them out to extinction. The Galrot however were far more intelligent than we had imagined. This one has managed to haunt our family for ages. Rather than pass on the trade to my children I vowed to rid the world of this one once and for all. We have wounded each other time and time again. I never can manage to get a kill strike. Tonight has to be the night though. “
Grandpa then reached down to the chest he had been sitting on. I think we all noticed it being a new addition to the scenery, but no one had really thought anything of it. He pulled out old chainmail armor. It had our family crest emblazoned on the chest. We had this same crest above our fire place at home. Mom had put it there. I was very frightened. He pulled out more armor and began handing it to us. He then said very matter of factly,
“We need to make spears now.”
Everyone put on their armor and grandpa handed out long poles and gave us all swords of varying lengths from the chest. Matthew was only 9 years old and his armor dragged the ground behind him. He was sobbing as he tried to sharpen the pole grandpa had given him. Grandpa looked at me and said “That’s good. I won’t be able to guard you all. Since you’re the oldest you should look after Little Matthew.”
Everyone was scared to death. We barely knew what was going on. I’m sure some thought that we were just playing along with grandpa and this was all a big joke. All of these notions were cast aside when we hear the howl.
It sounded like the scream of a woman combined with the ungodly bellow of a pack of hounds. We saw those reflective eyes peering at us through the treeline, only for an instant, and then they went black. We saw nothing after that. Grandpa took command.
“BACK TO BACK! Everyone put your backs against one another. Swords out, spears up, do not strike unless you have a clean shot. He will try to trick you, he will try to fool you into falling so that he may devour you. He will try and pick you off one by one. He wants a hunt! He wants a hunt more than anything, but we won’t give it to him. If he wants our meat he will have to pry it from out of our armor and from our swords. WE WILL NOT SUBSIDE DEMON BEAST!”
From the woods we faintly heard the beast snarl back “You are….mistaken old man.”
This was no ordinary creature of the forest. It could speak, and malevolently so. It was horrifyingly fast and cunning. We were more afraid now than ever. Suddenly we heard it.
Kathump kathump kathump kathump. KATHUMP KATHUMP. We saw the black hide in a blur, barreling at us at inhuman speed. It was aiming straight for little Matthew.
Grandpa yelled “BACK TO BACK! DON’T MOVE! HE WON’T COME STRAIGHT AT US! HE’S TRYING TO MAKE US SCATTER! HOLD! HOLD CHILDREN!”
He looked like a warrior general in his armor, slightly more ornate than ours. I wonder who had worn this before me and what they had killed in it. The Galrot was approaching quickly and I knew we would not escape unscathed.
Matthew began weeping uncontrollably. He then began screaming at the top of his lungs and broke the line. He began running toward the house.
“NO MATTHEW!” Grandpa shouted.
Grandpa then began to run at the Galrot. He was in a dead sprint. His speed was uncanny for his age. He was reborn in our eyes. We reformed the line, just the three of us now. Back to back. Shaking. The Galrot closed in.
He lept. Grandpa lunged at the great beast and slashed at its unarmored legs. The beast rolled to avoid it. The resulting thump of his hide hitting the ground sounded like a car wreck. This was the most massive creature I had ever seen. And now it was circling my grandfather, snarling.
“You have hunted we Galrot to the brink old man. It was a fool’s errand. WE WILL NEVER DIE…” The Galrot bellowed.
“Wrong beast. This ends here. Tonight. You will haunt my family no longer. I will see your head on a pike before this fight is done. “
“Hahahaha” The Galrot laughed. “It is too late for that old man. I am no longer alone in this world. It took me centuries, but I finally found a mate. My family is much bigger than yours.”
“HRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW” The Galrot howled into the night sky. Suddenly a piercing shriek of howls and chitters came from the woods around us. We saw the same reflective eyes again from the treeline. Not one, not two pair. Dozens.
Then we heard the thunder of their mighty paws as they approached.
We knew there was no hope. Matthew was now safe inside the house but we knew even the sturdy old ranch house would not hold back this army of beasts.
“GET IN THE HOUSE CHILDREN. THIS IS NO LONGER A FIGHT YOU CAN WIN. I’LL HOLD THIS BASTARD OFF.” Grandpa shouted.
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[WP] Everyone has staged an intervention for a problem they think you have. You do not have this problem. It is hard to explain to them that you do not have this problem.
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"We want you to know Ed, no matter what, we love you." Said Eds mother. Ed didn't quiet get what his mother was going on about but he found sense the timbre of the room had changed. What was a small impromptu party with his wife, family and friends had suddenly turned into circle of concerned looking adults circling around him.
"Ok" Ed said while stuffing cheesy chips into his mouth.
" We just want you to know we think your recent behavior is...... Well.... It's upsetting and unsettling and..."
" You have to stop dressing like such a slut Ed!" screamed Eds wife. A mix of anger and audible exhaustion left her mouth, followed by confirming nods of the party goers.
Ed looked around slowly with his mouth agape; not in embarrassment or anger but genuine confusion. He quickly panned down to his clothes of choice that day; khakis, a blue polo and worn tennis shoes. The kind of thing a dad who has given up would wear but hardly close to the tramp they believed he was.
" Um, I always dress like this. Mary you bought this shirt for me at Costco when I spilled the buffalo sauce..."
" OH HOW COULD WE FORGET THE BUFFALO SAUCE INCIDENT! Rubbing those big tits with spicy, sexy red sauce. Just trying to keep all those bitches from licking it. You make me sick."
" .... You mean the dogs?"
" Yes, those mongrols you always disappear with late at night and come home stinking of smoke and dog shit. I can't even imagine what you do with them..."
" I smoke while taking them for a walk and pick up the dog shit."
" This is going nowhere," Al chimed up " what you do in your home is your business but we know you have a problem with dressing like a normal man outside too. Stacey saw you in Walmart just flaunting your curves in that skin tight bathing suit."
" I mean I put on a few pounds and was muffin topping pretty hard but flaunting seems like a stretch."
" Funny you should mention stretch, you sure seemed intent on flashing everyone your ass as you stretched to reach your groceries. It just so happens everything you needed was on the bottom shelf huh."
" You told me to get a case of beer, from the floor freezer, for this party...."
" Your worked called as well. Apparently customers are feeling uncomfortable around you when they sit at your desk."
" I work from home."
" It was your wife, she feels uncomfortable. She is claiming you created a hostile work environment. You just don't wear pants to your job most days? What have you become?"
" I work from home."
" I have already spoken to HR and requested mandatory sexual harassment training."
" but I work from ho..... Ok. I will attend. It's clear I have made a mistake."
Ed never wore khakis again.
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In a dusty room at the bottom of an attic, there sat four. One of which was blinded, handcuffed, and chained to an old office chair.
This man who's undergoing what may be the beginning stages of a long-time love for a sadist-masochist relationship?
This motherfucker was named Bob.
"Listen, Bob," said John, one of the four men sitting in the room. "Admit, it you have a serious problem."
"What freaking problem? I don't have a problem! Now, let me out of this chair! I have a cake baking in the oven-"
"Now, now, Bob. We're all friends here. We won't judge you. Just say it," Eric fumbled around on his phone, looking up instructions on how to create an IED explosive for no other reason than curiosity.
"Seriously! What the fuck guys?!"
The third person in the room, a younger looking woman, finally spoke up.
"Bob, just admit it. You're into older women-"
"Gee, no shit, Sherlock."
"Specifically, our mothers. That's not okay, Bob. That's never okay," Angie declared, tearing up bits of paper from an old copy of Fifty Shades of Grey and pasting it onto a wireframe print for a paper-mache cat.
The room was silent. Bob sat silently. Silent as a brick. Silent as quiet as the loudness of loud. Yes, it was very, very, quiet. You get the freaking point.
Unfortunately at that moment, Bob's fucking cell phone decided to go ahead and disturb the glorious quietness of silence.
Angie lit a match under her book and tossed it out the window. She then slammed her sweaty hands into Bob's pockets and pulled out the man's phone.
*Three new messages.*
The woman proceeded to unlock the phone, read over the messages, and then barf right over the paper-mache Inner Goddess cat she'd been working on.
Bob's phone then fell into John's hands. That man took a look over at the three new messages, sighed, and then jumped out the window onto the burning book, praying for the sweet relief of death.
Then, came Eric's turn. Now, he didn't even bother looking at the phone. With the magical power of Hollywood hacks, Eric used his electrician skills to set the little smartphone to turn into a bomb that could destroy half a city-block.
Which city-block? Specifically the teenager's lot across the street that made way too much noise at night-times with loud jazz music and annoying orchestral suites.
Fuck that kid.
So, Eric did the reasonable thing and threw the smartphone IED over at the teenager's car, setting it on fire and alerting the local police department.
When the police arrived at Bob's house to investigate, they were met with the odd sight of a woman trying to put a fire on a paper cat, a man burning himself on a terrible piece of abusive-romance fiction, and a potential terrorist that was arrested and sent to Guantanamo.
Further investigation of the destroyed phone, revealed several nude photographs from the three mothers of the three suspects that were arrested at Bob's home.
And yet, the police didn't see Bob. The notorious Bob that'd been roaming the countryside in search of buxom beauties and married lasses. The Bob that was legally, technically, not a sex-offender because he didn't go after young kids.
Yes, that Bob, who was just earlier tied up and bound to a chair, yet inexplicably managed to break out.
Yes, that Motherfucker Bob.
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[WP] The entire world loses all its WiFi, except for one place. Your body is the only WiFi hot-spot on the planet.
|
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT
I leap a barrel and slide under some piping, hiding there for a moment. I can hear there footsteps behinds me, the hoard as I now tend to think of it.
It was the kids. When the wifi dropped out the adults just went back to using ethernet cables and carried on with their lives, but the kids couldn't grasp the concept. "A wire?" one had said "I don't get it". I think the loss of internet had lowered their collective IQ around 50 points.
The footsteps grew closer "He must've ran into that warehouse, I have some signal over here!". I take a deep breath and slide out of my hiding place. I hate how easily they can track me. I make it out the back door just as they enter the front, but they see me go.
"Guys he just went out the back!"
"Hey my cat picture uploaded!"
Running down a back alley I come to a low fence. Six months ago I wouldn't have been able to climb it, but after running so long I vault straight over it. I slow to get my breath back and emerge from the other end of the alley. The hoard is there.
Maybe 300 kids are staring at me, none of them look older than 17. If you've ever walked down the street, seen some hoodies and felt a bit scared to walk past them... magnify it by a thousand and then arm them all with mobile phones and laptops.
None of them move. I'm still breathing heavily.
"He's not running, the wifi signal is dropping out. Get him!"
SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT
I make for a gap in the crowd, as they start to mob me, whacking me with their phones to motivate me to run. Oh god.
I sprint up the road and the crowd follows me at a jog, uploading selfies of them running, their fitness statistics and tweeting each other a meme about bears.
Well at least one thing has come out of this.
The childhood obesity epidemic is over.
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"Just let me plug in!"
Fuck off. Living with Jamal has become a real pain in the ass since he stopped going to work because not only am I preparing his food, I'm providing his food without expense. The only kicker of our relationship is by some means he is paying the rent, and most importantly our not-so-much-of-a-godsend Comcast Uvere Internet that randomly goes from 15 mpbs to .5 mbps: truly bipolar, just like Jamal. He's been bugging lately expressing that he read on some site called Yettit that he could get faster speeds if he ran a cord halfway across our apartment living space. Yeah, what happens when Teresa comes over and her crutch takes out your LAN connection now? Not happening because I value Teresa ten times, if not infinetly more than leaving this apartment more of an embarassing and cluttered space. I can only deal with so much, and patience is by no means a virtue I keep dear to my heart: I'm a hot head.
"You want to starve, cocksucker? I can do that if I see a yellow cord running anywhere along the walkspace to your shitsmelling room. No is no - get a Laptop already!"
He is out of control.
"Laptops are SHIT, I keep telling you this, girl - WiFi is SHIT and is why I can't ever get a good game of League of Legends. If I had STABLE internet, I could actually win my promotions to platinum without tilting because I can't control my character! Just. Let. ME!"
If this is the way he treats other people, just imagine how others in that game must be like. I feel like the real victim here because I've got to cope with this shit everyday I come home.
"Fuck. No! "
I actually punched the wall. It did nothing to the wall, except make him slide back in his swivel chair to get a proper look at me through the tiny crack in the doorway he elected to have instead of coming to speak face to face about his 'issues'. Maybe if he did that, I would take it seriously.
"Yo, don't be hitting that god damn WALL! I'm not paying to have it fixed, you HEAR?!"
He actually raised his voice at me. Like I could actually leave a dent on that wall? I slapped my hand against the wall as I watched him straggle about in his room in uncertainty of whether or not he wanted to leave to speak with me. I need to pressure him to get what I want. It worked.
"What did I fucking say, look, I'm in a ranked game, you have to knock this shit off right now or I'm going to- "
The lights dimmed, and flickered along with the alarms within the housing from security systems to electrical appliances.
"Aw SHIT, always bad TIMING! Fuck SAKE my team is going to REPORT ME!"
The power returned within a few moments, and as did my interest in seeing this matter through because his frustration is amusing to watch in an odd way. Maybe I'm a bit of a sadist and I can't come to terms with it, but I just like to watch him struggle when it's so easy to trigger him. Whatever, I need to check Facebook. The growling coming from the chasm of our walkway diminished as I laid myself down on the one good couch we had. I laid there, and looked through my phone. Strangely enough, 4g seemed to be down because after the minutes of mumbling a strange silence could be felt linger in the house. Maybe it's because Jamal is staring at the computer, waiting in anticipation for it to load after running out of cusses to say about how 'unlucky' he is.
"Hey, Jess, shouldn't the internet be on by now?" he said in a less-forced, almost genuinely concerned type of way that he only truly uses when he's speaking with his mother on the phone. You know, thinking about it now, it has been about 20 minutes since power had turned back on after that flicker.
"Wait, nevermind, did our Router rename itself to J E S S - Jess, and it's open? What did I say about touching my shit? Most importantly, you OPENED the network up to the public? You trying to get the NSA in on my shit?!"
I had no idea what to say, but an idea came to mind to get him off my back when I try to think of a funny joke to text to Teresa.
"Don't you got a Legends League game to finish?"
"Shit, yeah.. Fuck you, though, for real. If this some joke, nah... - not COOL!" I could hear him slap his hand down on his mouse from out here like an echo through some chasm. Except, since it's a mouse he probably slammed, it would be a squeak. Yeah, girls can be good at making jokes, too!
"Yo, this is weird. All my teammates are disconnected. The fuck? Nah, No argument from me - give me that free LP bruddah'!"
He laughed manically. Still, no response from Teresa. She's usually quite a fast texter, but maybe she's going somewhere. She can't walk and text like everyone else, since she is handicapped and uses crutches. I can't expect too much from her. But finally, a message:
"Jess, the internet isn't working. Who's your provider?"
Comcast, but who cares if I'm not even paying for it. I want to watch television. I switch it on, and instead of a reality tv show, I'm faced with a middle age man tight-fitted in a suit and a disappointed look on his face with a scrolling banner that says "Internet is reported to be down in these locations" followed by the very same man discussing the scale of this supposed phenomena. Is this for real? When will it be back?
"Yo, Jess, I'm Platinum now - Wussup! Give me five - Yo didn't know you were into the news, 'less this is one of those parody shows. Shit, what is he saying?"
"The internets' out across the country."
"But ours is working just fine."
"What do you mean, Jamal?"
"Look, I'll show you, I'm in queue right now, but we'll load onto my site I hadn't checked out today, yeah."
By his site he means world star hip hop. I have no idea what the attraction is for this site to even begin with. Like, who visits it? Except this time when it seems apparent to what we can assume is fact, there it was a loaded web page and video of an unknown rapper victimizing my ears with his bad singing that even auto tuning couldn't fix.
"Can you check Yahoo, CNN to confirm that this is true?"
'Yeah, I mean, I don't go to those sites, but alright girl let me type 'em in. Nope, nothing on either - look."
That's when it got to me. If they don't have access to the internet, how can they change their website.
"I don't think they can change it."
"Shit, you're right. So you think we actually had good internet the whole time? For real, I'm lucky for once? Dang. Weird, I can't log into the router and make it protected. You did this, right?"
"No, I didn't. I wouldn't know how to anyways."
"Check the router."
I stepped over to the router, and as I turned to him from down the hall, his mouth seemed to open.
"Come back over here, actually."
I came closer to him, uncertain of what he is going on about.
"Nah go back..."
I stop, midway, uncertain what he is going on about
"To the router?"
I og back to the router.
"You have a pocket wifi on you, or something? The packets I'm sending, and the little bars on the Wifi get tinier when you walk further away. But I can't seem to get access to the router. I don't think it is our router I'm linked to. "
"Then what are you connected to?"
"You, and this time - I don't think I will be needing to hook you up to my computer to make the most of this predicament."
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She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knіfе lay next to her handbag, соνered with her blue silk scarf.
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[WP]Use this passage about a girl in Starbucks with a hidden bloody knife and silk scarf to write a story
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She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knіfе lay next to her handbag, соνered with her blue silk scarf. Her hands trembled slightly, and she realized how cold her fingertips were despite the warmth from the cup.
Through the window she watched the world roll past. Mothers with strollers, a group of shirtless guys jogging across the street, a letter carrier in typical blue shorts. Cars were driving through the intersection, some waiting to turn. A man on a motorcycle in the parking lot waited for a car to back out of a spot. A couple opened the door to the coffee shop, the woman stepped to the side so an older man could exit.
Everyone was following the rules.
Her blood boiled. A quiet storm raged inside her. She watched a young couple walk from the store next door, bags in hand, laughing. She watched as a woman approached the bus stop on the sidewalk, phone to her ear. Everyone living their quiet lives, politely ignoring the world around them. Just like any other Wednesday.
She sipped her coffee, relishing the burn of the liquid on her lips. Steam surrounded her face for a moment, fogging up her glasses, blurring the world. This is how she preferred life. Blurry.
As she continued staring out the window, she reached down and touched the scarf. Blue, silk, with a light lace pattern etched the entire length, she loved this scarf. It was a birthday gift. And now it was ruined.
Her thoughts trailed to the blade hidden underneath. It was too small, she decided, angrily. Her fingers traced the width of the blade through the scarf. *It should have been bigger,* she thought. She could feel people's eyes on her. She ignored them.
She sipped her coffee again, and saw lights flash through the window. The red and blue flickered against her glasses, reflecting off the high exposed ceilings. The other patrons began to turn, looking out the window. Two officers exited the car, speaking to each other. People outside stood from their tables, making room for the officers to walk toward the door. Onlookers inside stepped back. A mother pulled her child in close.
*Of course,* she thought. *Distance is the only answer.*
The officers stepped inside, and looked around. They were young, clean shaven, bright eyed. An air of bravado, reeking of the expectation of respect. She turned and stared at them, sipping her coffee, playing with the lace on the scarf.
They spotted her, and the officer closest to her signaled his partner. He then spoke sideways into his radio on his shoulder, one hand on his hip.
"Three-six to dispatch. We're code 4 here." A static mumbling from the other end.
The officers walked toward her table. Each had a hand on their gun. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness.
The officers stopped at her table. The officer who had radioed dispatch spoke.
"Ma'am," he said. *Ma'am,* she thought. *Fuck you*.
"Ma'am, we're going to need you to put your hands on the table please."
She felt a sick sense of guilt. She couldn't help but wonder how this interchange would go if she were black.
She spread her fingers open, raising her hand above the table. She set down her coffee, spreading the fingers of her other hand. Slowly, deliberately, she placed both hands open on the table.
The officer nodded. He spoke.
"Thank you ma'am. My name is Officer Stroke. This is my partner, Officer Dennison. Mind if I sit down?"
She nodded, looking at the empty chair. Stroke sat. Dennison walked to the window and leaned against it, effectively blocking her path. His hand was still on his gun. Stroke looked at her.
"Ma'am, were you the one that made the call?" He was emotionless.
"Yes," she said. She looked out the window. People were standing still at their tables outside, looking in. She turned back to the officer.
"I called you."
"Do you have the knife with you, ma'am?" Stroke asked. He set one hand on the table, and leaned back into his seat. She assumed his other hand was on his gun. She nodded.
"Yes." she said. "Would you like me to hand it to you?" Stroke shook his head firmly.
"No ma'am. If you'll tell us where it is, my partner will take it from you." She nodded, looking back out the window. A mother was standing in the parking lot, holding her baby. She was talking to another woman, both were staring into the coffee shop.
"It's under the scarf" she said quietly. Dennison stood straight, and walked around the table. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a pen. He leaned over the table, and used the pen to move the scarf aside, exposing the knife.
"Got it," he said. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out a medical glove. Pulling it on to his hand, he put the pen back into his shirt, and reached down to collect the knife. He stood, holding it away from his body, as though it might bite him.
*Sure,* she thought to herself. *You'll want to be careful with that. It might hurt you.*
"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to stand." Stroke said. He stood, his posture more relaxed. She looked at him.
"3 years." She said. Stroke narrowed his gaze at her.
"Excuse me?" he asked.
"I was with him for 3 years." she said. Her voice trembled. She hated that. She continued.
"I have been coming to this coffee shop every Wednesday morning for 3 years. And every Wednesday morning for 3 years, people have ignored the bruises. They ask 'how are you' and 'how's your week' and 'how are things', but they always ignore the bruises."
Stroke stared at her, saying nothing. The tension was thick enough to choke on. She slowly stood, casting her eyes around the room at the onlookers.
"You all are so comfortable, living your lives, ignoring each other. You come and you go and you're all so busy. You see the same people week in and week out and you don't even notice them." She looked back to Stroke.
"I told him last week that if he laid one more hand on me I would kill him."
Stroke nodded, his gaze softening.
"Ma'am," he said. "You're under arrest for the murder of Carl Hardin. Please turn around, putting your hands behind your back."
She stepped out from the table, and turned, facing the window. She could hear stroke step forward, and could hear the metal-on-metal of the handcuffs. People were talking, staring right at her through the window. Just like every other Wednesday.
The steel was cold on her wrists. Stroke led her through the coffee shop. She made eye contact with as many people as she could, daring them to stare through the dark ring around her eye, the blood crusted around her nose and mouth. Her spaghetti strap shirt exposed every bruise, old and new. The yellowing-green of the older bruises giving way to the dark blue of the newer ones.
They walked outside, and Dennison opened the back of the squad car door. Stroke spoke.
"Be careful here, ma'am." She laughed.
"*Now* you're concerned for my well being." She stepped into the car, the door closing behind her.
She watched people staring at her as they pulled out of the parking lot. Just like every other Wednesday.
|
She sat in the Starbucks cafe, sipping her coffee and staring out of the window. The blood stained knife lay next to her handbag, covered with her blue silk scarf. She looked down for a moment, to make sure the knife was hidden from view. At least hidden from anyone looking in.
The name on her coffee cup caught her attention as she looked back up to the window. **Staicy** it said. It blew her mind how Starbucks really couldn't spell anyone's name right. Last week it was Steighcy. Week before, it was Stacee. Maybe these people purposely spell names wrong.
She looked back out the window, thinking about the rest of her day. *Hmm. I've gotta walk to work and I have to be there in . . . 40 minutes. Leave at 5, pick up some groceries, take Luke to hockey practice, alright. Not too bad. Normal Monday like always*.
The silence in the Starbucks was loud. The usual buzz of the blenders and sound of coffee being made were missing. Gone too was the cacophony of customers, each impatiently waiting in line to order their morning coffee, with baristas waiting to wrongly spell their names. The only sound left was silence. And Stacy's occasional movement.
Ten minutes later, she got up to leave. Leaving the Starbucks, she flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED. She took one last look at the Starbucks before she left, wrapping her scarf around her neck and putting the knife back in her handbag. The dead baristas lying on the counter were no appeasing sight. Neither were the pile of customers in the back left corner. None of the scene was pretty. But maybe next time, the baristas would learn to spell her name.
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[WP] A famous artist is also a serial killer and hides his/her confessions in song.
|
Jordan: Yo Brad, get in here.
Brad: What is it?
Jordan: This new song by Cirk Stealy. It's kinda creepy. Check this out, so the song is called "The Third Word Was Not Enough." Go ahead and read it and then I'll show you something kinda strange.
*Truth is I never met anyone like you*
*And I was gonna make you mine*
*I had the "give anything to be with you" attitude*
*But the killer you faced took you away from me.*
*He turned my up days into down days.*
*You're my wife never to be.*
*And this is gonna haunt my dreams.*
*Let me in, let me back in your life.*
*I miss the you I used to have.*
*In the woods down where we met, that is where I will be.*
Brad: I don't get it. That's just a weird depressing song.
Jordan: Okay now watch this shit. The song title says the THIRD WORD isn't enough, right?
Brad: Yeah....
Jordan: Go back and read the third word of each line.
*Brad goes back and scans the lines*
Brad: Holy shit. WHAT. THE. FUCK.
Jordan: Right!?!?
Brad: Wait a minute. The title says that the third word "Was Not Enough"
Jordan:. Yeah... so?
Brad: So what if the third word of the song isn't the word we're supposed to be looking at. Maybe if we went back and read the fourth word of each line...
|
"What are you talking about?"
"I think he's a serial killer"
"Because of his lyrics?"
"Yeah"
"Which ones?"
"*I killed her and ate her brain*"
"It's a metaphor"
"A metaphor?"
"Yeah, when he broke up it hurt her and effected her mental health"
"Ok how about *I brought her to my basement and tortured her for hours?*"
"Well that's a silly song, he's talking about making her watch him play video games"
"And *I keep her heart as a trophy on the wall?*"
"He broke her heart so now he owns it"
"So what you're saying is that his seemingly murderous lyrics are really just him being a huge asshole"
"He's a musician. Not a killer"
"Uh-huh and how about his song *Hey guys I'm a serial killer, I've been talking about it in my lyrics for years and everyone has been assuming it's a metaphor but it's not, (I've killed before and I'm going to kill again)* of his new album *Jack the Ripper Lives on Through Me?*"
"Well that's obviously a satirical statement meant to get out in front of ridiculous ideas like this"
"Ok and how about the fact that he's across the street right now loading an unconscious woman into a panel van?"
"Performance art?"
|
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EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
|
"There! Right fucking there!" I exclaimed, pointing at Mark's cup.
He looked at me with an eyebrow raised, morning coffee halfway to his lips. "There what darling?"
"The sugar. You just poured sugar out of that shaker, even though I completely emptied it before you woke up." I told him.
"You... emptied our sugar thingy? Why?" Mark asked.
That was the question. Why. Let's put this into some context. Mark and I had been dating for two years, and I've gotta tell you - there have been some magical times in there. And no, not just the cheesy "love is great" kind of magical - actual magical times.
See, Mark is a wizard.
Or at least I'm like... 90% sure Mark is a wizard. Most of the time it's just little impossible things. Getting sugar from empty sugar shakers, any size of shirt will fit him, he always wins at least a fiver from instant scratchits. Mundane miracles. But then there's the bigger stuff. He cavorts with all manner of... things. I'm fairly sure our current landlord is a unicorn. It barely seems legal, but we get good rent. Whenever we want to hang out with someone, we just open the door and hey - there we are, at their house. It all adds up. Once, I woke up to find the biggest bouquet of flowers I've ever seen at the foot of my bed. That last one probably wasn't magic but it was pretty sweet.
BUT any time I bring it up, he denies it.
"Mark are you a wizard" I'll ask him, and every time the answer is the same - "No of course I'm not a wizard. Wizards aren't real" and that's the end of it. So lately I've been trying to catch him in the act. Setting little traps. Buying XXS shirts, rigging a scratchit to lose, cutting his brake line - but he always gets away with it. Not this time though. This time, I made sure that there was no sugar in the house. Which brings us to his question.
"You... emptied our sugar thingy? Why?" Mark asked.
"To prove that you're a wizard!" I said
"No of course I'm not a wizard. Wizards aren't real" he said, tone and inflection identical to every other time he's said it
"Then explain the sugar thing!" I told him
"You've gone crazy?" he said and winked.
I almost laughed, but today it had to end. "I'm serious," I said "It was empty. Completely empty - how did you get sugar out of it?"
"Through... not wizardry?" Mark said, lying badly.
"Oh really? Not wizardry?" I scoffed. "Not wizardry would be refilling it from the sugar jar, maybe fucking up and refilling from the salt jar on accident. But I have both of those jars right here," I pulled them out from my purse and set them on the table before continuing, "and you didn't use either."
Mark was really starting to sweat now. I continued putting the heat on.
"And what about that scratchit yesterday? It was blank when I bought it, but you still won $20 off that. Or your car? Severed brake lines for weeks and you're still driving it like a champ. And the shirts, Mark. You have a 23 inch chest but a shirt with an 18 inch chest will still fit you. It doesn't add up Mark, and I'd like you to come clean with me"
Mark sighed heavily and looked me in the eyes. "Look Kate, the truth is... I'm gay."
"No you're not, Mark. Gay people don't get any of those things." I said
"How about I'm... born again?" he said, grasping at any straw he could think of. Mark didn't do great under pressure. Well I mean, he's a wizard. He does better than most people.
This one was easy. "Nope. Power of God is more 'water to wine' or 'water to blood' or 'walking on water'. There's no water in a scratchit."
"Would you believe..." Mark started before his eyes widened like bowling balls "Oh shit I lent mum the car. She's not a wiz- uh, she won't know about the brakes. Gotta go!"
Mark kissed me on the forehead, put his robe and pointed hat on, and vanished.
I sipped my sugarless tea and glared at where he had been. Damn he was good at getting out of awkward conversations.
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Shauna was on her third outfit and every one had something wrong. It was too casual or boring or made her butt look weird. After the fifth one, she looked at the clock and saw that she had 15 minutes before Jo would pick her up. So she took the cute shirt from the first outfit and paired it with a black A-line skirt. It'd have to do.
She was on her phone, looking at some Facebook posts until Jo would come. Shauna was a bit nervous; she hadn't been on a date before. Her parents thought that she was just watching a movie with her friend. They'd freak if they knew the truth. Maybe if she and Jo became serious, she'd consider telling them. She 'liked' a joke Greg made when her mom sat beside her.
"So what movie are you watching," her mom questioned. She turned the TV onto some hospital soap.
"Born to Love Again," Shauna replied while she was scrolling through her Instgram.
"Is it rated R because you know you can't watch those." Her mom wasn't even watching the show anymore.
"Ugh. It's PG-13 and everyone's going to watch it. It's the new Nessie Smith movie." Her mom was so nosy.
"Well, who's going?" At this point, her mom wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Just Jo." Shauna managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes before it was too late.
"That weird witch girl. You're going with her?" Witch? Sure, Jo wore black all the time but that didn't mean she was a witch.
"She's a wiccan. It's totally different." The bell rung. Shauna jumped up and ran to the door. "Bye, mom. I'll be back at midnight."
Jo and Shauna were at the Starbucks next to the theater. She was sipping her frappucino while Jo was eating a coffee cake. She was wearing her usual black dress, hat and boots. She did look a but witch-y. It was probably a wiccan. Besides, Jo made it work.
"Sooo..." It was kinda awkward to be alone with Jo. Jo looked up. Her skin looked a bit green but most importantly, she had a giant wart. Oh, god. It was huge. Shauna looked away before their date was more awkward.
"So." Jo replied in a deadpan voice. Shauna tried to think of something to say but all she could think about was that wart. Would it be rude if she bought some cream at the convenience store? Yes, it would be. But that wart? Did Jo always have it? She didn't really remember seeing it earlier that day at school. Then again, Jo just hung out in the dark chemistry lab. Jo was looking at her now. Wait, did she say something? Was it about the wart?
"So." What kinda response was that? Shauna should've said something else instead. God, when was the movie starting? "When does the movie start?"
"7:30." Half an hour. What the hell? She thought they had 5 minutes or something. What was there to talk about? What about pets? "Do you have a dog? I have a dog. His name is Shiloh. He's so cute. You should come over and hang out."
"Dogs are okay but cats are better. Look, her name's Salem." Jo took out her phone and showed Shauna some pictures of Salem, a black cat. It didn't help that they were in the forest, near a fire, under a full moon, with other people dressed in black. All Shauna could think about was what her mom had said. Maybe Jo was a witch. She wore black, had green skin, warts and a black cat.
"Is this a wiccan thing?" Shauna hoped that she didn't seem rude.
"No. I'm not a wiccan." Jo looked offended. Shauna checked her phone. Ugh, the movie didn't start for 25 more minutes.
"Maybe, we should head in. Better get the good seats before they're gone. You know." It was awkward again but that had to better than before.
They were at the concession stand.
"So do you want something?" Jo looked at her. Shauna drank the frappuccino and wasn't particularly thirsty. There weren't any good snacks. When they made it to the front of the line, Jo ordered some popcorn and M&M's.
"Just some water." Jo had a funny expression on her face. It just made her wart more obvious. Was it the wrong thing to order? Jo didn't say anything but she paid for it and handed her the bottle.
They sat near the back. There weren't that many people there but it was kinda warm. Shauna opened her bottle and took a sip. Jo was staring.
"Do you want some?" Shauna handed her the bottle. Jo was making that face again.
"How can you drink that?" Shauna took back the bottle. This date was a disaster. Before she could think of an excuse, the previews started.
The first preview was a retelling of Little Mermaid from the perspective of the sea witch. The actress looked dour in her black outfit.
The second preview was a remake of the Crucible. The actresses in their pilgrim outfits were okay but the special effects looked pretty cool. Their possessions were creepy and the magic shown looked realistic. Jo grumbled.
"What?" Shauna hoped that that didn't come out as bitchy.
"It's just so unrealistic. Possessions don't look like that and spells don't have sparks." Jo would have continued but someone shushed her. At this point, Shauna was sure Jo was a witch.
The last preview was a serious rendition of the Wizard of Oz. She didn't remember Dorothy having a sword or even the Cowardly Lion chanting some biblical hymns when Dorothy threw the water at the Witch. Then again, she never read the book.
When she saw the Witch melt, Shauna was hit with a plan. She'd just 'accidently' spill some water on Jo. If Jo wasn't hurt, then she wasn't a witch. She opened the bottle and was about to drop it when Jo stretched her arms, knocking the bottle over.
"What the hell?" Jo was drenched but she looked unharmed. There wasn't any steam or melted body parts.
"Oh my god, Jo, I'm so sorry." Jo looked annoyed. She took some paper napkins and tried to dry the stain. "Do you want to go? I didn't mean to ruin the date. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We already paid for the movie." Jo ignored her for the rest of the movie. Shauna tried to enjoy the movie. Nessie was her favorite actress but she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Of course, witches weren't real. God, she was so stupid. That wart was probably acne. People wore black. And they also had cats. She was just overreacting.
They were outside Shauna's house. They could hear the TV playing. The streets were empty. Jo's hair gleamed under the moonlight. She looked unearthly.
"I'm sorry about earlier." While the movie was fun, their date was pretty boring. It didn't help that she poured water on Jo to see if she was a witch. Besides, Jo was so serious. She hoped that they could remain friends.
"It's alright. It's not like it's holy water." Great, now she was stuck thinking about Jo for the rest of the night.
|
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
|
"Mary can we stop pretending. You know I don't care." I say.
As usual Mary's cheeks grow red and she starts to sputter, "What? Stop pretending, huh? I don't know what you're talking about. Can we just go back downstairs and order pizza?"
"What's in that chest that's so incriminating?" I ask. "Hmm?"
"Huh? this chest?" She strolls over towards the dusty old chest in the attic and places a hand on it. "Nothing, there's nothing in there. In fact-" She gripped the edges of it and feigned a strained groan, "See, doesn't even open. No reason to go in there."
"Mary I saw you rummaging through it yesterday! I saw the cloud of green gas spew out of it!"
"How did you-" Her fingers intertwined at her waist and her eyelashes fluttered, "Well. I wasn't going to tell you this. But that green gas you saw. Well."
"Finally." I mutter.
"Well. I farted. There, I said it. We're mature adults, I think we can accept that it happens."
"The green gas. Is a fart. you're trying to tell me it was a fart."
"Look I'm embarrassed enough as it is-"
"Mary! Farts don't make green gas! It's not a cartoon!"
"Well fairies do." She muttered.
"What do? what was that? Speak up."
Mary folded her arms and looked away.
"I can see the key in your hand still. I know you can open that chest. And for gods sake Mary, look at me! You've turned me into a mouse!" I shout, my voice carrying a squeaky tone. I take a few tiny steps towards her, her legs and torso rising high above me, "We can go order pizza, if you admit-"
"I don't know how that happened." She said shaking her head.
"Fine. Just order the pizza. And maybe I'll *magically* turn back to normal."
"Thank you." With a flash of light her cell phone was in her hand.
"See! SEE! I saw that!"
"What?"
"The phone!"
She stared at the phone for a moment, "Well, you don't need to be a witch to own a phone, *Michael.*"
"You know what I mean. It popped into your hand from thin air."
She sneezed, and suddenly I was back to being a person. I fold my arms and glare at her, and as usual she made an unbearable adorable pouty face in return.
"Hypothetically." I begin, "If you were a witch. Why would you not tell me."
"No reason. It's just silly is all. I mean, witches aren't real. The witches council- erm, I mean, Harry Potter was just a book, Michael, you know how you get caught up in stories. Don't you? Do you want toppings? I think I want peperoni. Humans get that on pizza right?"
"Humans?" I ask. "Did you just refer to us as humans?"
"No I didn't. I said us. As in we. Here, smell this pouch." She said, another flash of light and a brown leather pouch appeared in her hand.
"The forgetting powder? I'm not falling for that again." I said.
She herumphed and stomped her foot.
"Fine. Fine. Yes we like Pepperonis on our *normal* pizza. Let's just go back downstairs."
She smiled and dialed in the order. I gave one last look at the mysterious chest before following her downstairs.
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Shauna was on her third outfit and every one had something wrong. It was too casual or boring or made her butt look weird. After the fifth one, she looked at the clock and saw that she had 15 minutes before Jo would pick her up. So she took the cute shirt from the first outfit and paired it with a black A-line skirt. It'd have to do.
She was on her phone, looking at some Facebook posts until Jo would come. Shauna was a bit nervous; she hadn't been on a date before. Her parents thought that she was just watching a movie with her friend. They'd freak if they knew the truth. Maybe if she and Jo became serious, she'd consider telling them. She 'liked' a joke Greg made when her mom sat beside her.
"So what movie are you watching," her mom questioned. She turned the TV onto some hospital soap.
"Born to Love Again," Shauna replied while she was scrolling through her Instgram.
"Is it rated R because you know you can't watch those." Her mom wasn't even watching the show anymore.
"Ugh. It's PG-13 and everyone's going to watch it. It's the new Nessie Smith movie." Her mom was so nosy.
"Well, who's going?" At this point, her mom wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Just Jo." Shauna managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes before it was too late.
"That weird witch girl. You're going with her?" Witch? Sure, Jo wore black all the time but that didn't mean she was a witch.
"She's a wiccan. It's totally different." The bell rung. Shauna jumped up and ran to the door. "Bye, mom. I'll be back at midnight."
Jo and Shauna were at the Starbucks next to the theater. She was sipping her frappucino while Jo was eating a coffee cake. She was wearing her usual black dress, hat and boots. She did look a but witch-y. It was probably a wiccan. Besides, Jo made it work.
"Sooo..." It was kinda awkward to be alone with Jo. Jo looked up. Her skin looked a bit green but most importantly, she had a giant wart. Oh, god. It was huge. Shauna looked away before their date was more awkward.
"So." Jo replied in a deadpan voice. Shauna tried to think of something to say but all she could think about was that wart. Would it be rude if she bought some cream at the convenience store? Yes, it would be. But that wart? Did Jo always have it? She didn't really remember seeing it earlier that day at school. Then again, Jo just hung out in the dark chemistry lab. Jo was looking at her now. Wait, did she say something? Was it about the wart?
"So." What kinda response was that? Shauna should've said something else instead. God, when was the movie starting? "When does the movie start?"
"7:30." Half an hour. What the hell? She thought they had 5 minutes or something. What was there to talk about? What about pets? "Do you have a dog? I have a dog. His name is Shiloh. He's so cute. You should come over and hang out."
"Dogs are okay but cats are better. Look, her name's Salem." Jo took out her phone and showed Shauna some pictures of Salem, a black cat. It didn't help that they were in the forest, near a fire, under a full moon, with other people dressed in black. All Shauna could think about was what her mom had said. Maybe Jo was a witch. She wore black, had green skin, warts and a black cat.
"Is this a wiccan thing?" Shauna hoped that she didn't seem rude.
"No. I'm not a wiccan." Jo looked offended. Shauna checked her phone. Ugh, the movie didn't start for 25 more minutes.
"Maybe, we should head in. Better get the good seats before they're gone. You know." It was awkward again but that had to better than before.
They were at the concession stand.
"So do you want something?" Jo looked at her. Shauna drank the frappuccino and wasn't particularly thirsty. There weren't any good snacks. When they made it to the front of the line, Jo ordered some popcorn and M&M's.
"Just some water." Jo had a funny expression on her face. It just made her wart more obvious. Was it the wrong thing to order? Jo didn't say anything but she paid for it and handed her the bottle.
They sat near the back. There weren't that many people there but it was kinda warm. Shauna opened her bottle and took a sip. Jo was staring.
"Do you want some?" Shauna handed her the bottle. Jo was making that face again.
"How can you drink that?" Shauna took back the bottle. This date was a disaster. Before she could think of an excuse, the previews started.
The first preview was a retelling of Little Mermaid from the perspective of the sea witch. The actress looked dour in her black outfit.
The second preview was a remake of the Crucible. The actresses in their pilgrim outfits were okay but the special effects looked pretty cool. Their possessions were creepy and the magic shown looked realistic. Jo grumbled.
"What?" Shauna hoped that that didn't come out as bitchy.
"It's just so unrealistic. Possessions don't look like that and spells don't have sparks." Jo would have continued but someone shushed her. At this point, Shauna was sure Jo was a witch.
The last preview was a serious rendition of the Wizard of Oz. She didn't remember Dorothy having a sword or even the Cowardly Lion chanting some biblical hymns when Dorothy threw the water at the Witch. Then again, she never read the book.
When she saw the Witch melt, Shauna was hit with a plan. She'd just 'accidently' spill some water on Jo. If Jo wasn't hurt, then she wasn't a witch. She opened the bottle and was about to drop it when Jo stretched her arms, knocking the bottle over.
"What the hell?" Jo was drenched but she looked unharmed. There wasn't any steam or melted body parts.
"Oh my god, Jo, I'm so sorry." Jo looked annoyed. She took some paper napkins and tried to dry the stain. "Do you want to go? I didn't mean to ruin the date. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We already paid for the movie." Jo ignored her for the rest of the movie. Shauna tried to enjoy the movie. Nessie was her favorite actress but she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Of course, witches weren't real. God, she was so stupid. That wart was probably acne. People wore black. And they also had cats. She was just overreacting.
They were outside Shauna's house. They could hear the TV playing. The streets were empty. Jo's hair gleamed under the moonlight. She looked unearthly.
"I'm sorry about earlier." While the movie was fun, their date was pretty boring. It didn't help that she poured water on Jo to see if she was a witch. Besides, Jo was so serious. She hoped that they could remain friends.
"It's alright. It's not like it's holy water." Great, now she was stuck thinking about Jo for the rest of the night.
|
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
|
I couldn't wait to get home from work and relax.
As usual, I opened the door, took off my shoes and went to hang up my coat... and stopped. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Treacle, our beautiful little husky, sitting there wagging his tail.
But he was blue.
I don't mean a light tint like a change in colour, or like he rolled around in paint. I mean, he was a bright turquoise shade of *blue*.
"Uhhh, Chris, Honey..." I called out to my boyfriend, waiting for an explanation. I heard some papers quickly being riffled through in his work room just down the hall.
"Yes, one moment Sarah, just organizing my work. You know it is. Be right there."
A moment later he came out of the room, his hair a total mess as always, and reeking of... something. Always that strange odour you can't explain and can't tell if it's extremely pleasant or completely revolting. He walked over to me and planted a kiss on my cheek, putting his arm around me. Oblivious to poor blue Treacle.
"Have a good day at work, Sarah? Nothing too crazy I hope? I've just been reading up on some..." I cut him off.
"Chris. The dog."
"Oh, he was fine all day. Took him for a walk earlier, quite a nice day out."
"No, Chris. He's blue. The dog is blue." Chris looks down and smiles at Treacle, and looks back up to me nodding.
"So he is. That kind of day after all. Seems pretty chipper though." I stare at him, controlling every urge to roll my eyes like I'm 15 again.
"Chris... Dogs don't suddenly just become blue. That's not normal." Suddenly his eyes go wide and his mouth forms a little "o", and already he starts to become flustered and I know exactly where it's going.
"OH, yes, I forgot to mention, gave him a little bath. Wrong shampoo, supposed to keep his coat white but must have let it stay in too long, I'm sure it's only temporary."
When I say Treacle is blue, I mean every single inch. His toes, his eyes, his mouth, his teeth. It's all **blue**.
Knowing the conversation won't go anywhere as always, I sigh and decide to let him get to fixing the issue.
"Well, I'm sure with your Master's in *'chemistry'* you can create some sort of shampoo that will 'remove' the blue." Relieved, Chris nods and runs to the back room with Treacle to turn him back to normal.
I figured out months ago that my boyfriend was a wizard but for some reason he's too stubborn to admit it yet. But with something like this happening almost every day, it's become pretty obvious.
I'm curious how he'll try to explain why my footstool walked away the other day and snickered at me.
Edit: Spelling error.
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Shauna was on her third outfit and every one had something wrong. It was too casual or boring or made her butt look weird. After the fifth one, she looked at the clock and saw that she had 15 minutes before Jo would pick her up. So she took the cute shirt from the first outfit and paired it with a black A-line skirt. It'd have to do.
She was on her phone, looking at some Facebook posts until Jo would come. Shauna was a bit nervous; she hadn't been on a date before. Her parents thought that she was just watching a movie with her friend. They'd freak if they knew the truth. Maybe if she and Jo became serious, she'd consider telling them. She 'liked' a joke Greg made when her mom sat beside her.
"So what movie are you watching," her mom questioned. She turned the TV onto some hospital soap.
"Born to Love Again," Shauna replied while she was scrolling through her Instgram.
"Is it rated R because you know you can't watch those." Her mom wasn't even watching the show anymore.
"Ugh. It's PG-13 and everyone's going to watch it. It's the new Nessie Smith movie." Her mom was so nosy.
"Well, who's going?" At this point, her mom wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Just Jo." Shauna managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes before it was too late.
"That weird witch girl. You're going with her?" Witch? Sure, Jo wore black all the time but that didn't mean she was a witch.
"She's a wiccan. It's totally different." The bell rung. Shauna jumped up and ran to the door. "Bye, mom. I'll be back at midnight."
Jo and Shauna were at the Starbucks next to the theater. She was sipping her frappucino while Jo was eating a coffee cake. She was wearing her usual black dress, hat and boots. She did look a but witch-y. It was probably a wiccan. Besides, Jo made it work.
"Sooo..." It was kinda awkward to be alone with Jo. Jo looked up. Her skin looked a bit green but most importantly, she had a giant wart. Oh, god. It was huge. Shauna looked away before their date was more awkward.
"So." Jo replied in a deadpan voice. Shauna tried to think of something to say but all she could think about was that wart. Would it be rude if she bought some cream at the convenience store? Yes, it would be. But that wart? Did Jo always have it? She didn't really remember seeing it earlier that day at school. Then again, Jo just hung out in the dark chemistry lab. Jo was looking at her now. Wait, did she say something? Was it about the wart?
"So." What kinda response was that? Shauna should've said something else instead. God, when was the movie starting? "When does the movie start?"
"7:30." Half an hour. What the hell? She thought they had 5 minutes or something. What was there to talk about? What about pets? "Do you have a dog? I have a dog. His name is Shiloh. He's so cute. You should come over and hang out."
"Dogs are okay but cats are better. Look, her name's Salem." Jo took out her phone and showed Shauna some pictures of Salem, a black cat. It didn't help that they were in the forest, near a fire, under a full moon, with other people dressed in black. All Shauna could think about was what her mom had said. Maybe Jo was a witch. She wore black, had green skin, warts and a black cat.
"Is this a wiccan thing?" Shauna hoped that she didn't seem rude.
"No. I'm not a wiccan." Jo looked offended. Shauna checked her phone. Ugh, the movie didn't start for 25 more minutes.
"Maybe, we should head in. Better get the good seats before they're gone. You know." It was awkward again but that had to better than before.
They were at the concession stand.
"So do you want something?" Jo looked at her. Shauna drank the frappuccino and wasn't particularly thirsty. There weren't any good snacks. When they made it to the front of the line, Jo ordered some popcorn and M&M's.
"Just some water." Jo had a funny expression on her face. It just made her wart more obvious. Was it the wrong thing to order? Jo didn't say anything but she paid for it and handed her the bottle.
They sat near the back. There weren't that many people there but it was kinda warm. Shauna opened her bottle and took a sip. Jo was staring.
"Do you want some?" Shauna handed her the bottle. Jo was making that face again.
"How can you drink that?" Shauna took back the bottle. This date was a disaster. Before she could think of an excuse, the previews started.
The first preview was a retelling of Little Mermaid from the perspective of the sea witch. The actress looked dour in her black outfit.
The second preview was a remake of the Crucible. The actresses in their pilgrim outfits were okay but the special effects looked pretty cool. Their possessions were creepy and the magic shown looked realistic. Jo grumbled.
"What?" Shauna hoped that that didn't come out as bitchy.
"It's just so unrealistic. Possessions don't look like that and spells don't have sparks." Jo would have continued but someone shushed her. At this point, Shauna was sure Jo was a witch.
The last preview was a serious rendition of the Wizard of Oz. She didn't remember Dorothy having a sword or even the Cowardly Lion chanting some biblical hymns when Dorothy threw the water at the Witch. Then again, she never read the book.
When she saw the Witch melt, Shauna was hit with a plan. She'd just 'accidently' spill some water on Jo. If Jo wasn't hurt, then she wasn't a witch. She opened the bottle and was about to drop it when Jo stretched her arms, knocking the bottle over.
"What the hell?" Jo was drenched but she looked unharmed. There wasn't any steam or melted body parts.
"Oh my god, Jo, I'm so sorry." Jo looked annoyed. She took some paper napkins and tried to dry the stain. "Do you want to go? I didn't mean to ruin the date. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We already paid for the movie." Jo ignored her for the rest of the movie. Shauna tried to enjoy the movie. Nessie was her favorite actress but she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Of course, witches weren't real. God, she was so stupid. That wart was probably acne. People wore black. And they also had cats. She was just overreacting.
They were outside Shauna's house. They could hear the TV playing. The streets were empty. Jo's hair gleamed under the moonlight. She looked unearthly.
"I'm sorry about earlier." While the movie was fun, their date was pretty boring. It didn't help that she poured water on Jo to see if she was a witch. Besides, Jo was so serious. She hoped that they could remain friends.
"It's alright. It's not like it's holy water." Great, now she was stuck thinking about Jo for the rest of the night.
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EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
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[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
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The ringing, it was always the endless ringing.
Darrow shuffled his feet as he walked to his front door, coffee mug in hand and eyes barely focused. Every damn morning someone rang his doorbell at six in the morning, and every damn time it was the same guy.
"Excuse me, Mr. Pilder. I don't mean to bother you again, but it is imperative I speak with your wife." A voice like sand paper, a hair cut so exceedingly proper it looked suspicious and a suit tailored perfectly to his well muscled frame. He screamed government dog.
"Well, Harry. Like I said every morning for the past three weeks, she is away on business. Come back between the 27th and fuck off, and we'll get back to you." Darrow didn't wait for a reply, he simply slammed his door. Darrow knew what this was about, it was always the same when these types came around. Suspicion of witchcraft, since her teen years Darrow's wife Valeria was always accused of witchcraft.
A capital offense, punishable by burning at the stake as it was done in Salem and as it always had been done. Darrow knew full well his wife was a witch, she wasn't very subtle. It was either her extravagant 'Victorian Goth' style she loved, or her tendency to chant when she thought he was sleeping, but since they were in grade school he always knew.
Valeria was a witch.
"Who was it, Dar?" A musical voice called.
Darrow could only smile as he opened the drawer of a desk near the front door. "Nothing, lovely. Go back to sleep, just a salesman as always." Darrow's eyes narrowed as he spoke, scrutinizing Valeria as her eyes flashed shade unnatural.
She had just read his mind. Always reading his mind. At first Darrow found it invasive, even horrifying. But ten years of marriage, and thirty years of love meant she could do wrong in his eyes.
"I'm not a witch, Dar. Just let them test me, I can handle it."
Darrow exhaled sharply. drawing the gun from the drawer and racking the slide. He pointed it at the closed door and squeezed the trigger in trained, fluid motions. Three shots, center mass. The shots echoed off the hardwood floors, and the unmistakable sound of a weight hitting concrete mixed along side it.
"Maybe so, Val. Maybe so. But why take the risk?" Darrow opened the door with a wry smile, and dragged the dead suit into the house.
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Shauna was on her third outfit and every one had something wrong. It was too casual or boring or made her butt look weird. After the fifth one, she looked at the clock and saw that she had 15 minutes before Jo would pick her up. So she took the cute shirt from the first outfit and paired it with a black A-line skirt. It'd have to do.
She was on her phone, looking at some Facebook posts until Jo would come. Shauna was a bit nervous; she hadn't been on a date before. Her parents thought that she was just watching a movie with her friend. They'd freak if they knew the truth. Maybe if she and Jo became serious, she'd consider telling them. She 'liked' a joke Greg made when her mom sat beside her.
"So what movie are you watching," her mom questioned. She turned the TV onto some hospital soap.
"Born to Love Again," Shauna replied while she was scrolling through her Instgram.
"Is it rated R because you know you can't watch those." Her mom wasn't even watching the show anymore.
"Ugh. It's PG-13 and everyone's going to watch it. It's the new Nessie Smith movie." Her mom was so nosy.
"Well, who's going?" At this point, her mom wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Just Jo." Shauna managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes before it was too late.
"That weird witch girl. You're going with her?" Witch? Sure, Jo wore black all the time but that didn't mean she was a witch.
"She's a wiccan. It's totally different." The bell rung. Shauna jumped up and ran to the door. "Bye, mom. I'll be back at midnight."
Jo and Shauna were at the Starbucks next to the theater. She was sipping her frappucino while Jo was eating a coffee cake. She was wearing her usual black dress, hat and boots. She did look a but witch-y. It was probably a wiccan. Besides, Jo made it work.
"Sooo..." It was kinda awkward to be alone with Jo. Jo looked up. Her skin looked a bit green but most importantly, she had a giant wart. Oh, god. It was huge. Shauna looked away before their date was more awkward.
"So." Jo replied in a deadpan voice. Shauna tried to think of something to say but all she could think about was that wart. Would it be rude if she bought some cream at the convenience store? Yes, it would be. But that wart? Did Jo always have it? She didn't really remember seeing it earlier that day at school. Then again, Jo just hung out in the dark chemistry lab. Jo was looking at her now. Wait, did she say something? Was it about the wart?
"So." What kinda response was that? Shauna should've said something else instead. God, when was the movie starting? "When does the movie start?"
"7:30." Half an hour. What the hell? She thought they had 5 minutes or something. What was there to talk about? What about pets? "Do you have a dog? I have a dog. His name is Shiloh. He's so cute. You should come over and hang out."
"Dogs are okay but cats are better. Look, her name's Salem." Jo took out her phone and showed Shauna some pictures of Salem, a black cat. It didn't help that they were in the forest, near a fire, under a full moon, with other people dressed in black. All Shauna could think about was what her mom had said. Maybe Jo was a witch. She wore black, had green skin, warts and a black cat.
"Is this a wiccan thing?" Shauna hoped that she didn't seem rude.
"No. I'm not a wiccan." Jo looked offended. Shauna checked her phone. Ugh, the movie didn't start for 25 more minutes.
"Maybe, we should head in. Better get the good seats before they're gone. You know." It was awkward again but that had to better than before.
They were at the concession stand.
"So do you want something?" Jo looked at her. Shauna drank the frappuccino and wasn't particularly thirsty. There weren't any good snacks. When they made it to the front of the line, Jo ordered some popcorn and M&M's.
"Just some water." Jo had a funny expression on her face. It just made her wart more obvious. Was it the wrong thing to order? Jo didn't say anything but she paid for it and handed her the bottle.
They sat near the back. There weren't that many people there but it was kinda warm. Shauna opened her bottle and took a sip. Jo was staring.
"Do you want some?" Shauna handed her the bottle. Jo was making that face again.
"How can you drink that?" Shauna took back the bottle. This date was a disaster. Before she could think of an excuse, the previews started.
The first preview was a retelling of Little Mermaid from the perspective of the sea witch. The actress looked dour in her black outfit.
The second preview was a remake of the Crucible. The actresses in their pilgrim outfits were okay but the special effects looked pretty cool. Their possessions were creepy and the magic shown looked realistic. Jo grumbled.
"What?" Shauna hoped that that didn't come out as bitchy.
"It's just so unrealistic. Possessions don't look like that and spells don't have sparks." Jo would have continued but someone shushed her. At this point, Shauna was sure Jo was a witch.
The last preview was a serious rendition of the Wizard of Oz. She didn't remember Dorothy having a sword or even the Cowardly Lion chanting some biblical hymns when Dorothy threw the water at the Witch. Then again, she never read the book.
When she saw the Witch melt, Shauna was hit with a plan. She'd just 'accidently' spill some water on Jo. If Jo wasn't hurt, then she wasn't a witch. She opened the bottle and was about to drop it when Jo stretched her arms, knocking the bottle over.
"What the hell?" Jo was drenched but she looked unharmed. There wasn't any steam or melted body parts.
"Oh my god, Jo, I'm so sorry." Jo looked annoyed. She took some paper napkins and tried to dry the stain. "Do you want to go? I didn't mean to ruin the date. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We already paid for the movie." Jo ignored her for the rest of the movie. Shauna tried to enjoy the movie. Nessie was her favorite actress but she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Of course, witches weren't real. God, she was so stupid. That wart was probably acne. People wore black. And they also had cats. She was just overreacting.
They were outside Shauna's house. They could hear the TV playing. The streets were empty. Jo's hair gleamed under the moonlight. She looked unearthly.
"I'm sorry about earlier." While the movie was fun, their date was pretty boring. It didn't help that she poured water on Jo to see if she was a witch. Besides, Jo was so serious. She hoped that they could remain friends.
"It's alright. It's not like it's holy water." Great, now she was stuck thinking about Jo for the rest of the night.
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EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
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"^^Engorgio" whispered a muffled voice.
"Whu-... ooohh, whatever you're doing, don't stooopppp - what were you saying, dear?" asked the man contendedly.
A pair of brown eyes, framed by shining dark hair, popped into view. "N-nothing," said Cho, though she could gather from the sceptical gaze from her man that he was sceptical. With a sly smile she snuck a hand back undernearth the sheets and watched contently as his eyes rolled back in his skull.
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"Hello, honey," greeted Cho her man when he entered his appartment. All day long she'd missed him, so she'd used the extra key he gave her last week and decided to surprise him. From his ear-to-ear smile, she gathered he'd missed her too. He picked her up and twirled around with her there and then in the hallway.
"Hope that busy worker man of yours didn't he keep you waiting too long." he murmered jokingly in her ear.
"Oh, yes," she said coyishly, while he gently lowered her, "this bachelor pad has nothing to entertain a fair lady such as myself. Even the mirror doesn't work properly, despite my best attempts to repair it."
"You used up a mirror? Oh, that is rich," the man laughed and kissed her softly, "how about we cuddle up in the couch and check out that new flatscreen I go- ... why is there orange smoke coming out of my flatscreen TV?"
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"And then she said she'd be ready in two more minutes ... so I fired up my PS and started a no-damage run of FFIX." concluded his co-worker. All around the water cooler his colleagues erupted in laughter. The man just pondered how nice it was to have a girlfriend that didn't spend ages in the bathroom. He started wondering why she had brought all those bottles and lotions with her when she moved in. No way she could be using them all in the little time she spent there ... but when she emerged she always took his breath away.
"Hey man, why so sirius?" his co-worker inquired, slapping him on the back.
"Oh erh haha ... great story, bro ... ha ... ha." he said but he was lost in thoughts again before the end of his sentence.
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"How do I look," Cho asked as she stood between him and his new flatscreen.
His mouth fell open. After what felt ages, he figured some sound should come out of it. "You look magical."
"Oh, uh, I... uh... I'll be right back," Cho said as she ducked back into the bathroom.
The man was confused. He got that she was nervous about meeting his parents for the first time but didn't expect to elicit such a reaction with his compliment.
He knocked on the bathroom door and called her name. Nobody answered.
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"and then the second plumber said, "Yes, and that's just the top of it"..." Cho looked expectantly at her audience. The man winced. He knew she wanted to make a good impression and was very nervous. The joke wasn't half bad either but the tension that had wrecked her all evening long had killed it. Just as he wanted to grab her left hand in comfort, he saw her right one wave under the table. Suddenly his family erupted in giggles and laughter. The remainder of the evening had everyone in an extremely jolly mood not abated in the slightest by his dad sudden fixation on nose pinching.
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"Happy birthday, my sweet," said the man, gently kissing his Cho awake.
"Mrffwwmph," was the answered emanating somewhere from the bush of hair and thightly-hugged pillows.
With a sensible chuckle he slipped out of bed and withdrew the curtains, "Rise and shine, my beauti-". He closed them before Cho could complain about the invasive bright light. Quietly he snuck downstairs and dialed into the internet. Launching altavista, he began searching for unusual congregation patterns of owls and what might elicit such behavior.
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"Honey, you here?" the man said as he popped his head through the kitchen door. Apart from a couple of grocery bags, the kitchen was empty. Diligently he started storing the food away, studying amusedly some of the weirder roots and vegetables she bought. It was a tiny thing but he loved that she stayed connected with her culture without pushing it on him. One of these days he should tell her he doesn't mind Asian cuisine, the man pondered.
As he poured the sweets into a large glass bowl, which he placed on the coffee table, he noted this was the first time he'd seen her buy candy. Usually it was his sweet tooth responsible for all the cookies that 'mysteriously' appeared in their shopping cart. Absentmindedly he bit a custard cream. A faint pop filled his ears.
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"Honey, you home yet?" shouted Cho upon entering the place, "sweetie? Where are y-" Cho stopped mid-sentence, her face turning pale. On the couch she saw the love of her life patiently waiting amidst a bunch of shedded canary feathers.
"Honey, I- ... I can explain" Cho said, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.
"Oh, can you now?" he asked, standing up, "can you explain why I exploded into a giant canary after eating a biscuit? Can you explain all the weird vegetables in our fridge or why you're feeling for that stick you keep up your right sleeve?"
With a guilty look she let go of her right arm.
He smirked, then sighed, and with hurt speaking from his eyes asked, "Can you explain how we've been together for more than a year and I have to find out I don't know the woman I love?"
Tears welled in Cho's eyes, timidly she stepped closer to him, staring at his chest she said, "I don't know what to say ... except that ... that I don't want to lose you."
Seeing his hurt reflected on her face, he too stepped closer. He wrapped his left arm around her, placed his right hand under her chin and gently lifted her face till she looked into his eyes. "Hey, we can work through this, okay?" the man said, "just no more secrets, can you promise me that?"
Cho nodded silently, wrapped her arms around him and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. As he closed his eyes, he considered she'd never kissed him this intently before. They were all wrapped up in one another. His head spun, his whole world seemed to twist and turn, he felt like up had decided to substitute for both left and down at the same time so those two could enjoy a nice day off at the beach. He had a hard time breathing but the thought of breaking the kiss didn't even occur to him.
When Cho finally broke the kiss, he opened his eyes. They were standing in the country side. On his left was a long white fence and shrubbery. Wherever they were, they clearly hadn't left England.
"Come," said Cho, opening the gate with a tap of her wand, "it's time you met my parents."
####Author's note:
I hope you liked this story. If you didn't, I will apologise for wasting your time (just post constructive feedback and I'll get back to you within 3 to 5 businnes days).
If you want to read more, join me at /r/TheUmpteenthMonkey where I regale visitors with stories and other content.
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Shauna was on her third outfit and every one had something wrong. It was too casual or boring or made her butt look weird. After the fifth one, she looked at the clock and saw that she had 15 minutes before Jo would pick her up. So she took the cute shirt from the first outfit and paired it with a black A-line skirt. It'd have to do.
She was on her phone, looking at some Facebook posts until Jo would come. Shauna was a bit nervous; she hadn't been on a date before. Her parents thought that she was just watching a movie with her friend. They'd freak if they knew the truth. Maybe if she and Jo became serious, she'd consider telling them. She 'liked' a joke Greg made when her mom sat beside her.
"So what movie are you watching," her mom questioned. She turned the TV onto some hospital soap.
"Born to Love Again," Shauna replied while she was scrolling through her Instgram.
"Is it rated R because you know you can't watch those." Her mom wasn't even watching the show anymore.
"Ugh. It's PG-13 and everyone's going to watch it. It's the new Nessie Smith movie." Her mom was so nosy.
"Well, who's going?" At this point, her mom wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Just Jo." Shauna managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes before it was too late.
"That weird witch girl. You're going with her?" Witch? Sure, Jo wore black all the time but that didn't mean she was a witch.
"She's a wiccan. It's totally different." The bell rung. Shauna jumped up and ran to the door. "Bye, mom. I'll be back at midnight."
Jo and Shauna were at the Starbucks next to the theater. She was sipping her frappucino while Jo was eating a coffee cake. She was wearing her usual black dress, hat and boots. She did look a but witch-y. It was probably a wiccan. Besides, Jo made it work.
"Sooo..." It was kinda awkward to be alone with Jo. Jo looked up. Her skin looked a bit green but most importantly, she had a giant wart. Oh, god. It was huge. Shauna looked away before their date was more awkward.
"So." Jo replied in a deadpan voice. Shauna tried to think of something to say but all she could think about was that wart. Would it be rude if she bought some cream at the convenience store? Yes, it would be. But that wart? Did Jo always have it? She didn't really remember seeing it earlier that day at school. Then again, Jo just hung out in the dark chemistry lab. Jo was looking at her now. Wait, did she say something? Was it about the wart?
"So." What kinda response was that? Shauna should've said something else instead. God, when was the movie starting? "When does the movie start?"
"7:30." Half an hour. What the hell? She thought they had 5 minutes or something. What was there to talk about? What about pets? "Do you have a dog? I have a dog. His name is Shiloh. He's so cute. You should come over and hang out."
"Dogs are okay but cats are better. Look, her name's Salem." Jo took out her phone and showed Shauna some pictures of Salem, a black cat. It didn't help that they were in the forest, near a fire, under a full moon, with other people dressed in black. All Shauna could think about was what her mom had said. Maybe Jo was a witch. She wore black, had green skin, warts and a black cat.
"Is this a wiccan thing?" Shauna hoped that she didn't seem rude.
"No. I'm not a wiccan." Jo looked offended. Shauna checked her phone. Ugh, the movie didn't start for 25 more minutes.
"Maybe, we should head in. Better get the good seats before they're gone. You know." It was awkward again but that had to better than before.
They were at the concession stand.
"So do you want something?" Jo looked at her. Shauna drank the frappuccino and wasn't particularly thirsty. There weren't any good snacks. When they made it to the front of the line, Jo ordered some popcorn and M&M's.
"Just some water." Jo had a funny expression on her face. It just made her wart more obvious. Was it the wrong thing to order? Jo didn't say anything but she paid for it and handed her the bottle.
They sat near the back. There weren't that many people there but it was kinda warm. Shauna opened her bottle and took a sip. Jo was staring.
"Do you want some?" Shauna handed her the bottle. Jo was making that face again.
"How can you drink that?" Shauna took back the bottle. This date was a disaster. Before she could think of an excuse, the previews started.
The first preview was a retelling of Little Mermaid from the perspective of the sea witch. The actress looked dour in her black outfit.
The second preview was a remake of the Crucible. The actresses in their pilgrim outfits were okay but the special effects looked pretty cool. Their possessions were creepy and the magic shown looked realistic. Jo grumbled.
"What?" Shauna hoped that that didn't come out as bitchy.
"It's just so unrealistic. Possessions don't look like that and spells don't have sparks." Jo would have continued but someone shushed her. At this point, Shauna was sure Jo was a witch.
The last preview was a serious rendition of the Wizard of Oz. She didn't remember Dorothy having a sword or even the Cowardly Lion chanting some biblical hymns when Dorothy threw the water at the Witch. Then again, she never read the book.
When she saw the Witch melt, Shauna was hit with a plan. She'd just 'accidently' spill some water on Jo. If Jo wasn't hurt, then she wasn't a witch. She opened the bottle and was about to drop it when Jo stretched her arms, knocking the bottle over.
"What the hell?" Jo was drenched but she looked unharmed. There wasn't any steam or melted body parts.
"Oh my god, Jo, I'm so sorry." Jo looked annoyed. She took some paper napkins and tried to dry the stain. "Do you want to go? I didn't mean to ruin the date. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We already paid for the movie." Jo ignored her for the rest of the movie. Shauna tried to enjoy the movie. Nessie was her favorite actress but she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Of course, witches weren't real. God, she was so stupid. That wart was probably acne. People wore black. And they also had cats. She was just overreacting.
They were outside Shauna's house. They could hear the TV playing. The streets were empty. Jo's hair gleamed under the moonlight. She looked unearthly.
"I'm sorry about earlier." While the movie was fun, their date was pretty boring. It didn't help that she poured water on Jo to see if she was a witch. Besides, Jo was so serious. She hoped that they could remain friends.
"It's alright. It's not like it's holy water." Great, now she was stuck thinking about Jo for the rest of the night.
|
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
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I have been discovering things recently on my computer that are odd. I'm seeing ads for custom cauldron manufacturers and hand made brooms in my down time when I surf the web. I have new spices in my cabinet that Jane bought me, stuff like mugwort and calamus root. I have no idea what to put them on, but she says they're great to have around in a pinch. With her, I have burned more candles in the last month than I ever thought I would burn in my life. We just sit together on the couch and watch them burn. It's strangely comforting. She makes these incredible mixed drinks that taste like nothing I have ever had before. She likes to bullshit about putting odd things like hair or blood in them.. But clearly she is joking. Its not like I wouldn't know if that stuff was in there. Oh, and you might wonder who Jane is. Well, she's my girlfriend, I guess. I can't really say for sure, because she comes and goes so freely and so mysteriously that I can't tell exactly where we stand. She and I don't talk like a normal couple, and its kind of strange.. We meet more on random occasions than at any other time. She will be standing at the end of an aisle at the grocery store, she'll seemingly just appear out of nothingness beside me at the park when I am jogging, she will show up behind me at the deli.. And she doesn't have a phone, she says. That's why she wouldn't give me her number when I first met her. She still hasn't given me a number, so I assume its true. The oddest thing is that she almost always knocks on my door when I start thinking it would be nice to have her come over. She comes in, we watch a movie, she cooks this amazing food, and we generally have a great time. Sometimes there is even sex. Amazing, mind twisting sex. I would never complain about these little quirks of hers because its been an exciting time in my life. BUT..
Recently, I have begun to think maybe this is something I should be worried about. And I came upon a stash of what must be her things hidden in a box of old cords and wires I keep in the closet in my room. I tried to avoid opening it out of respect for her, but I couldn't help myself. I mean, why would that be there? Who hides stuff like that? I began to wonder if maybe she is someone I should be afraid of or something, and with my curiosity eating me alive, I decided to open the coarsely hewn, red cloth bag that had been laying among my things in secret. In it there were photos of me sleeping, with weird inscriptions on them that I can't read. There were some bundles of what looks to be human hair, and a smaller sack of bones. Tiny little white bones with designs carved into them. They looked like they came from a bird. like a sparrow or something about that size. Are you saying "what the fuck" to yourself? I said it to myself. I said it out loud. There were also some rocks, some dirt in another small sack, and a couple of empty glass vials with nondescript residue clinging to the inside of them. Written on the side of one of them was my name. What the fuck indeed.
She came over later, and she was acting rather strange. The whole vibe was kinda odd between us, even though I was trying really hard to act like everything was normal. I guess maybe she picked up on it. She kept saying things like "A little birdy told me you've been up to something" and making these squinty eyes at me, like she was trying to see through my face and uncover the truth of what I had done that day straight from the images of it imprinted in my brain. She would later brush it off, saying she was just joking, but I had become genuinely scared at this point. I had no idea what to think, and all the things that had happened between us to that point began to bother me quite a bit. How did she seemingly always know where I was? Why did she insist on giving me no way to contact her? What the fuck had I been doing with this girl? Eventually she left after a long and awkward night, but I resolved to man up and confront her the next time I saw her. I blew out the candle we had been watching burn and went to bed, and had the most intense nightmare of my life.
I dreamed that I was running through a red field at night, her chasing me. She had a frightening look about her, as if all the blemishes and uneven features of her normally hauntingly beautiful face had been magnified. She looked evil now. She wore these robes that seemed to glow the same color as the field, that seemed almost like liquid clinging to her skin, pretending to be cloth. I felt a surge of danger rising in me as I ran, screaming "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WITCH!!" But it was one of those dreams where running gets you nowhere. She was right behind me, and I felt that doomed feeling that any second she was going to close a clawed hand around my neck and choke the life out of me as I tried in vain to reconcile this sudden change in my perception of her. My Jane a witch? It made too much sense. The fear overwhelmed me. I felt a cold enveloping me. I woke, sweat covering my skin, my hands clenched against my naked body, my sheets on the floor next to the bed. I was freezing. I noticed the window was open. I didn't remember going to sleep naked, although that is not uncommon for me.
She was standing in the doorway to my room.
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Shauna was on her third outfit and every one had something wrong. It was too casual or boring or made her butt look weird. After the fifth one, she looked at the clock and saw that she had 15 minutes before Jo would pick her up. So she took the cute shirt from the first outfit and paired it with a black A-line skirt. It'd have to do.
She was on her phone, looking at some Facebook posts until Jo would come. Shauna was a bit nervous; she hadn't been on a date before. Her parents thought that she was just watching a movie with her friend. They'd freak if they knew the truth. Maybe if she and Jo became serious, she'd consider telling them. She 'liked' a joke Greg made when her mom sat beside her.
"So what movie are you watching," her mom questioned. She turned the TV onto some hospital soap.
"Born to Love Again," Shauna replied while she was scrolling through her Instgram.
"Is it rated R because you know you can't watch those." Her mom wasn't even watching the show anymore.
"Ugh. It's PG-13 and everyone's going to watch it. It's the new Nessie Smith movie." Her mom was so nosy.
"Well, who's going?" At this point, her mom wasn't even trying to hide it.
"Just Jo." Shauna managed to stop herself from rolling her eyes before it was too late.
"That weird witch girl. You're going with her?" Witch? Sure, Jo wore black all the time but that didn't mean she was a witch.
"She's a wiccan. It's totally different." The bell rung. Shauna jumped up and ran to the door. "Bye, mom. I'll be back at midnight."
Jo and Shauna were at the Starbucks next to the theater. She was sipping her frappucino while Jo was eating a coffee cake. She was wearing her usual black dress, hat and boots. She did look a but witch-y. It was probably a wiccan. Besides, Jo made it work.
"Sooo..." It was kinda awkward to be alone with Jo. Jo looked up. Her skin looked a bit green but most importantly, she had a giant wart. Oh, god. It was huge. Shauna looked away before their date was more awkward.
"So." Jo replied in a deadpan voice. Shauna tried to think of something to say but all she could think about was that wart. Would it be rude if she bought some cream at the convenience store? Yes, it would be. But that wart? Did Jo always have it? She didn't really remember seeing it earlier that day at school. Then again, Jo just hung out in the dark chemistry lab. Jo was looking at her now. Wait, did she say something? Was it about the wart?
"So." What kinda response was that? Shauna should've said something else instead. God, when was the movie starting? "When does the movie start?"
"7:30." Half an hour. What the hell? She thought they had 5 minutes or something. What was there to talk about? What about pets? "Do you have a dog? I have a dog. His name is Shiloh. He's so cute. You should come over and hang out."
"Dogs are okay but cats are better. Look, her name's Salem." Jo took out her phone and showed Shauna some pictures of Salem, a black cat. It didn't help that they were in the forest, near a fire, under a full moon, with other people dressed in black. All Shauna could think about was what her mom had said. Maybe Jo was a witch. She wore black, had green skin, warts and a black cat.
"Is this a wiccan thing?" Shauna hoped that she didn't seem rude.
"No. I'm not a wiccan." Jo looked offended. Shauna checked her phone. Ugh, the movie didn't start for 25 more minutes.
"Maybe, we should head in. Better get the good seats before they're gone. You know." It was awkward again but that had to better than before.
They were at the concession stand.
"So do you want something?" Jo looked at her. Shauna drank the frappuccino and wasn't particularly thirsty. There weren't any good snacks. When they made it to the front of the line, Jo ordered some popcorn and M&M's.
"Just some water." Jo had a funny expression on her face. It just made her wart more obvious. Was it the wrong thing to order? Jo didn't say anything but she paid for it and handed her the bottle.
They sat near the back. There weren't that many people there but it was kinda warm. Shauna opened her bottle and took a sip. Jo was staring.
"Do you want some?" Shauna handed her the bottle. Jo was making that face again.
"How can you drink that?" Shauna took back the bottle. This date was a disaster. Before she could think of an excuse, the previews started.
The first preview was a retelling of Little Mermaid from the perspective of the sea witch. The actress looked dour in her black outfit.
The second preview was a remake of the Crucible. The actresses in their pilgrim outfits were okay but the special effects looked pretty cool. Their possessions were creepy and the magic shown looked realistic. Jo grumbled.
"What?" Shauna hoped that that didn't come out as bitchy.
"It's just so unrealistic. Possessions don't look like that and spells don't have sparks." Jo would have continued but someone shushed her. At this point, Shauna was sure Jo was a witch.
The last preview was a serious rendition of the Wizard of Oz. She didn't remember Dorothy having a sword or even the Cowardly Lion chanting some biblical hymns when Dorothy threw the water at the Witch. Then again, she never read the book.
When she saw the Witch melt, Shauna was hit with a plan. She'd just 'accidently' spill some water on Jo. If Jo wasn't hurt, then she wasn't a witch. She opened the bottle and was about to drop it when Jo stretched her arms, knocking the bottle over.
"What the hell?" Jo was drenched but she looked unharmed. There wasn't any steam or melted body parts.
"Oh my god, Jo, I'm so sorry." Jo looked annoyed. She took some paper napkins and tried to dry the stain. "Do you want to go? I didn't mean to ruin the date. God, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright. We already paid for the movie." Jo ignored her for the rest of the movie. Shauna tried to enjoy the movie. Nessie was her favorite actress but she couldn't stop feeling guilty. Of course, witches weren't real. God, she was so stupid. That wart was probably acne. People wore black. And they also had cats. She was just overreacting.
They were outside Shauna's house. They could hear the TV playing. The streets were empty. Jo's hair gleamed under the moonlight. She looked unearthly.
"I'm sorry about earlier." While the movie was fun, their date was pretty boring. It didn't help that she poured water on Jo to see if she was a witch. Besides, Jo was so serious. She hoped that they could remain friends.
"It's alright. It's not like it's holy water." Great, now she was stuck thinking about Jo for the rest of the night.
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EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
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[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
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"^^Engorgio" whispered a muffled voice.
"Whu-... ooohh, whatever you're doing, don't stooopppp - what were you saying, dear?" asked the man contendedly.
A pair of brown eyes, framed by shining dark hair, popped into view. "N-nothing," said Cho, though she could gather from the sceptical gaze from her man that he was sceptical. With a sly smile she snuck a hand back undernearth the sheets and watched contently as his eyes rolled back in his skull.
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"Hello, honey," greeted Cho her man when he entered his appartment. All day long she'd missed him, so she'd used the extra key he gave her last week and decided to surprise him. From his ear-to-ear smile, she gathered he'd missed her too. He picked her up and twirled around with her there and then in the hallway.
"Hope that busy worker man of yours didn't he keep you waiting too long." he murmered jokingly in her ear.
"Oh, yes," she said coyishly, while he gently lowered her, "this bachelor pad has nothing to entertain a fair lady such as myself. Even the mirror doesn't work properly, despite my best attempts to repair it."
"You used up a mirror? Oh, that is rich," the man laughed and kissed her softly, "how about we cuddle up in the couch and check out that new flatscreen I go- ... why is there orange smoke coming out of my flatscreen TV?"
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"And then she said she'd be ready in two more minutes ... so I fired up my PS and started a no-damage run of FFIX." concluded his co-worker. All around the water cooler his colleagues erupted in laughter. The man just pondered how nice it was to have a girlfriend that didn't spend ages in the bathroom. He started wondering why she had brought all those bottles and lotions with her when she moved in. No way she could be using them all in the little time she spent there ... but when she emerged she always took his breath away.
"Hey man, why so sirius?" his co-worker inquired, slapping him on the back.
"Oh erh haha ... great story, bro ... ha ... ha." he said but he was lost in thoughts again before the end of his sentence.
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"How do I look," Cho asked as she stood between him and his new flatscreen.
His mouth fell open. After what felt ages, he figured some sound should come out of it. "You look magical."
"Oh, uh, I... uh... I'll be right back," Cho said as she ducked back into the bathroom.
The man was confused. He got that she was nervous about meeting his parents for the first time but didn't expect to elicit such a reaction with his compliment.
He knocked on the bathroom door and called her name. Nobody answered.
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"and then the second plumber said, "Yes, and that's just the top of it"..." Cho looked expectantly at her audience. The man winced. He knew she wanted to make a good impression and was very nervous. The joke wasn't half bad either but the tension that had wrecked her all evening long had killed it. Just as he wanted to grab her left hand in comfort, he saw her right one wave under the table. Suddenly his family erupted in giggles and laughter. The remainder of the evening had everyone in an extremely jolly mood not abated in the slightest by his dad sudden fixation on nose pinching.
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"Happy birthday, my sweet," said the man, gently kissing his Cho awake.
"Mrffwwmph," was the answered emanating somewhere from the bush of hair and thightly-hugged pillows.
With a sensible chuckle he slipped out of bed and withdrew the curtains, "Rise and shine, my beauti-". He closed them before Cho could complain about the invasive bright light. Quietly he snuck downstairs and dialed into the internet. Launching altavista, he began searching for unusual congregation patterns of owls and what might elicit such behavior.
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"Honey, you here?" the man said as he popped his head through the kitchen door. Apart from a couple of grocery bags, the kitchen was empty. Diligently he started storing the food away, studying amusedly some of the weirder roots and vegetables she bought. It was a tiny thing but he loved that she stayed connected with her culture without pushing it on him. One of these days he should tell her he doesn't mind Asian cuisine, the man pondered.
As he poured the sweets into a large glass bowl, which he placed on the coffee table, he noted this was the first time he'd seen her buy candy. Usually it was his sweet tooth responsible for all the cookies that 'mysteriously' appeared in their shopping cart. Absentmindedly he bit a custard cream. A faint pop filled his ears.
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"Honey, you home yet?" shouted Cho upon entering the place, "sweetie? Where are y-" Cho stopped mid-sentence, her face turning pale. On the couch she saw the love of her life patiently waiting amidst a bunch of shedded canary feathers.
"Honey, I- ... I can explain" Cho said, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.
"Oh, can you now?" he asked, standing up, "can you explain why I exploded into a giant canary after eating a biscuit? Can you explain all the weird vegetables in our fridge or why you're feeling for that stick you keep up your right sleeve?"
With a guilty look she let go of her right arm.
He smirked, then sighed, and with hurt speaking from his eyes asked, "Can you explain how we've been together for more than a year and I have to find out I don't know the woman I love?"
Tears welled in Cho's eyes, timidly she stepped closer to him, staring at his chest she said, "I don't know what to say ... except that ... that I don't want to lose you."
Seeing his hurt reflected on her face, he too stepped closer. He wrapped his left arm around her, placed his right hand under her chin and gently lifted her face till she looked into his eyes. "Hey, we can work through this, okay?" the man said, "just no more secrets, can you promise me that?"
Cho nodded silently, wrapped her arms around him and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. As he closed his eyes, he considered she'd never kissed him this intently before. They were all wrapped up in one another. His head spun, his whole world seemed to twist and turn, he felt like up had decided to substitute for both left and down at the same time so those two could enjoy a nice day off at the beach. He had a hard time breathing but the thought of breaking the kiss didn't even occur to him.
When Cho finally broke the kiss, he opened his eyes. They were standing in the country side. On his left was a long white fence and shrubbery. Wherever they were, they clearly hadn't left England.
"Come," said Cho, opening the gate with a tap of her wand, "it's time you met my parents."
####Author's note:
I hope you liked this story. If you didn't, I will apologise for wasting your time (just post constructive feedback and I'll get back to you within 3 to 5 businnes days).
If you want to read more, join me at /r/TheUmpteenthMonkey where I regale visitors with stories and other content.
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The ringing, it was always the endless ringing.
Darrow shuffled his feet as he walked to his front door, coffee mug in hand and eyes barely focused. Every damn morning someone rang his doorbell at six in the morning, and every damn time it was the same guy.
"Excuse me, Mr. Pilder. I don't mean to bother you again, but it is imperative I speak with your wife." A voice like sand paper, a hair cut so exceedingly proper it looked suspicious and a suit tailored perfectly to his well muscled frame. He screamed government dog.
"Well, Harry. Like I said every morning for the past three weeks, she is away on business. Come back between the 27th and fuck off, and we'll get back to you." Darrow didn't wait for a reply, he simply slammed his door. Darrow knew what this was about, it was always the same when these types came around. Suspicion of witchcraft, since her teen years Darrow's wife Valeria was always accused of witchcraft.
A capital offense, punishable by burning at the stake as it was done in Salem and as it always had been done. Darrow knew full well his wife was a witch, she wasn't very subtle. It was either her extravagant 'Victorian Goth' style she loved, or her tendency to chant when she thought he was sleeping, but since they were in grade school he always knew.
Valeria was a witch.
"Who was it, Dar?" A musical voice called.
Darrow could only smile as he opened the drawer of a desk near the front door. "Nothing, lovely. Go back to sleep, just a salesman as always." Darrow's eyes narrowed as he spoke, scrutinizing Valeria as her eyes flashed shade unnatural.
She had just read his mind. Always reading his mind. At first Darrow found it invasive, even horrifying. But ten years of marriage, and thirty years of love meant she could do wrong in his eyes.
"I'm not a witch, Dar. Just let them test me, I can handle it."
Darrow exhaled sharply. drawing the gun from the drawer and racking the slide. He pointed it at the closed door and squeezed the trigger in trained, fluid motions. Three shots, center mass. The shots echoed off the hardwood floors, and the unmistakable sound of a weight hitting concrete mixed along side it.
"Maybe so, Val. Maybe so. But why take the risk?" Darrow opened the door with a wry smile, and dragged the dead suit into the house.
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EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
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[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
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I have been discovering things recently on my computer that are odd. I'm seeing ads for custom cauldron manufacturers and hand made brooms in my down time when I surf the web. I have new spices in my cabinet that Jane bought me, stuff like mugwort and calamus root. I have no idea what to put them on, but she says they're great to have around in a pinch. With her, I have burned more candles in the last month than I ever thought I would burn in my life. We just sit together on the couch and watch them burn. It's strangely comforting. She makes these incredible mixed drinks that taste like nothing I have ever had before. She likes to bullshit about putting odd things like hair or blood in them.. But clearly she is joking. Its not like I wouldn't know if that stuff was in there. Oh, and you might wonder who Jane is. Well, she's my girlfriend, I guess. I can't really say for sure, because she comes and goes so freely and so mysteriously that I can't tell exactly where we stand. She and I don't talk like a normal couple, and its kind of strange.. We meet more on random occasions than at any other time. She will be standing at the end of an aisle at the grocery store, she'll seemingly just appear out of nothingness beside me at the park when I am jogging, she will show up behind me at the deli.. And she doesn't have a phone, she says. That's why she wouldn't give me her number when I first met her. She still hasn't given me a number, so I assume its true. The oddest thing is that she almost always knocks on my door when I start thinking it would be nice to have her come over. She comes in, we watch a movie, she cooks this amazing food, and we generally have a great time. Sometimes there is even sex. Amazing, mind twisting sex. I would never complain about these little quirks of hers because its been an exciting time in my life. BUT..
Recently, I have begun to think maybe this is something I should be worried about. And I came upon a stash of what must be her things hidden in a box of old cords and wires I keep in the closet in my room. I tried to avoid opening it out of respect for her, but I couldn't help myself. I mean, why would that be there? Who hides stuff like that? I began to wonder if maybe she is someone I should be afraid of or something, and with my curiosity eating me alive, I decided to open the coarsely hewn, red cloth bag that had been laying among my things in secret. In it there were photos of me sleeping, with weird inscriptions on them that I can't read. There were some bundles of what looks to be human hair, and a smaller sack of bones. Tiny little white bones with designs carved into them. They looked like they came from a bird. like a sparrow or something about that size. Are you saying "what the fuck" to yourself? I said it to myself. I said it out loud. There were also some rocks, some dirt in another small sack, and a couple of empty glass vials with nondescript residue clinging to the inside of them. Written on the side of one of them was my name. What the fuck indeed.
She came over later, and she was acting rather strange. The whole vibe was kinda odd between us, even though I was trying really hard to act like everything was normal. I guess maybe she picked up on it. She kept saying things like "A little birdy told me you've been up to something" and making these squinty eyes at me, like she was trying to see through my face and uncover the truth of what I had done that day straight from the images of it imprinted in my brain. She would later brush it off, saying she was just joking, but I had become genuinely scared at this point. I had no idea what to think, and all the things that had happened between us to that point began to bother me quite a bit. How did she seemingly always know where I was? Why did she insist on giving me no way to contact her? What the fuck had I been doing with this girl? Eventually she left after a long and awkward night, but I resolved to man up and confront her the next time I saw her. I blew out the candle we had been watching burn and went to bed, and had the most intense nightmare of my life.
I dreamed that I was running through a red field at night, her chasing me. She had a frightening look about her, as if all the blemishes and uneven features of her normally hauntingly beautiful face had been magnified. She looked evil now. She wore these robes that seemed to glow the same color as the field, that seemed almost like liquid clinging to her skin, pretending to be cloth. I felt a surge of danger rising in me as I ran, screaming "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WITCH!!" But it was one of those dreams where running gets you nowhere. She was right behind me, and I felt that doomed feeling that any second she was going to close a clawed hand around my neck and choke the life out of me as I tried in vain to reconcile this sudden change in my perception of her. My Jane a witch? It made too much sense. The fear overwhelmed me. I felt a cold enveloping me. I woke, sweat covering my skin, my hands clenched against my naked body, my sheets on the floor next to the bed. I was freezing. I noticed the window was open. I didn't remember going to sleep naked, although that is not uncommon for me.
She was standing in the doorway to my room.
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The ringing, it was always the endless ringing.
Darrow shuffled his feet as he walked to his front door, coffee mug in hand and eyes barely focused. Every damn morning someone rang his doorbell at six in the morning, and every damn time it was the same guy.
"Excuse me, Mr. Pilder. I don't mean to bother you again, but it is imperative I speak with your wife." A voice like sand paper, a hair cut so exceedingly proper it looked suspicious and a suit tailored perfectly to his well muscled frame. He screamed government dog.
"Well, Harry. Like I said every morning for the past three weeks, she is away on business. Come back between the 27th and fuck off, and we'll get back to you." Darrow didn't wait for a reply, he simply slammed his door. Darrow knew what this was about, it was always the same when these types came around. Suspicion of witchcraft, since her teen years Darrow's wife Valeria was always accused of witchcraft.
A capital offense, punishable by burning at the stake as it was done in Salem and as it always had been done. Darrow knew full well his wife was a witch, she wasn't very subtle. It was either her extravagant 'Victorian Goth' style she loved, or her tendency to chant when she thought he was sleeping, but since they were in grade school he always knew.
Valeria was a witch.
"Who was it, Dar?" A musical voice called.
Darrow could only smile as he opened the drawer of a desk near the front door. "Nothing, lovely. Go back to sleep, just a salesman as always." Darrow's eyes narrowed as he spoke, scrutinizing Valeria as her eyes flashed shade unnatural.
She had just read his mind. Always reading his mind. At first Darrow found it invasive, even horrifying. But ten years of marriage, and thirty years of love meant she could do wrong in his eyes.
"I'm not a witch, Dar. Just let them test me, I can handle it."
Darrow exhaled sharply. drawing the gun from the drawer and racking the slide. He pointed it at the closed door and squeezed the trigger in trained, fluid motions. Three shots, center mass. The shots echoed off the hardwood floors, and the unmistakable sound of a weight hitting concrete mixed along side it.
"Maybe so, Val. Maybe so. But why take the risk?" Darrow opened the door with a wry smile, and dragged the dead suit into the house.
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EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
|
"^^Engorgio" whispered a muffled voice.
"Whu-... ooohh, whatever you're doing, don't stooopppp - what were you saying, dear?" asked the man contendedly.
A pair of brown eyes, framed by shining dark hair, popped into view. "N-nothing," said Cho, though she could gather from the sceptical gaze from her man that he was sceptical. With a sly smile she snuck a hand back undernearth the sheets and watched contently as his eyes rolled back in his skull.
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"Hello, honey," greeted Cho her man when he entered his appartment. All day long she'd missed him, so she'd used the extra key he gave her last week and decided to surprise him. From his ear-to-ear smile, she gathered he'd missed her too. He picked her up and twirled around with her there and then in the hallway.
"Hope that busy worker man of yours didn't he keep you waiting too long." he murmered jokingly in her ear.
"Oh, yes," she said coyishly, while he gently lowered her, "this bachelor pad has nothing to entertain a fair lady such as myself. Even the mirror doesn't work properly, despite my best attempts to repair it."
"You used up a mirror? Oh, that is rich," the man laughed and kissed her softly, "how about we cuddle up in the couch and check out that new flatscreen I go- ... why is there orange smoke coming out of my flatscreen TV?"
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"And then she said she'd be ready in two more minutes ... so I fired up my PS and started a no-damage run of FFIX." concluded his co-worker. All around the water cooler his colleagues erupted in laughter. The man just pondered how nice it was to have a girlfriend that didn't spend ages in the bathroom. He started wondering why she had brought all those bottles and lotions with her when she moved in. No way she could be using them all in the little time she spent there ... but when she emerged she always took his breath away.
"Hey man, why so sirius?" his co-worker inquired, slapping him on the back.
"Oh erh haha ... great story, bro ... ha ... ha." he said but he was lost in thoughts again before the end of his sentence.
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"How do I look," Cho asked as she stood between him and his new flatscreen.
His mouth fell open. After what felt ages, he figured some sound should come out of it. "You look magical."
"Oh, uh, I... uh... I'll be right back," Cho said as she ducked back into the bathroom.
The man was confused. He got that she was nervous about meeting his parents for the first time but didn't expect to elicit such a reaction with his compliment.
He knocked on the bathroom door and called her name. Nobody answered.
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"and then the second plumber said, "Yes, and that's just the top of it"..." Cho looked expectantly at her audience. The man winced. He knew she wanted to make a good impression and was very nervous. The joke wasn't half bad either but the tension that had wrecked her all evening long had killed it. Just as he wanted to grab her left hand in comfort, he saw her right one wave under the table. Suddenly his family erupted in giggles and laughter. The remainder of the evening had everyone in an extremely jolly mood not abated in the slightest by his dad sudden fixation on nose pinching.
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"Happy birthday, my sweet," said the man, gently kissing his Cho awake.
"Mrffwwmph," was the answered emanating somewhere from the bush of hair and thightly-hugged pillows.
With a sensible chuckle he slipped out of bed and withdrew the curtains, "Rise and shine, my beauti-". He closed them before Cho could complain about the invasive bright light. Quietly he snuck downstairs and dialed into the internet. Launching altavista, he began searching for unusual congregation patterns of owls and what might elicit such behavior.
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"Honey, you here?" the man said as he popped his head through the kitchen door. Apart from a couple of grocery bags, the kitchen was empty. Diligently he started storing the food away, studying amusedly some of the weirder roots and vegetables she bought. It was a tiny thing but he loved that she stayed connected with her culture without pushing it on him. One of these days he should tell her he doesn't mind Asian cuisine, the man pondered.
As he poured the sweets into a large glass bowl, which he placed on the coffee table, he noted this was the first time he'd seen her buy candy. Usually it was his sweet tooth responsible for all the cookies that 'mysteriously' appeared in their shopping cart. Absentmindedly he bit a custard cream. A faint pop filled his ears.
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"Honey, you home yet?" shouted Cho upon entering the place, "sweetie? Where are y-" Cho stopped mid-sentence, her face turning pale. On the couch she saw the love of her life patiently waiting amidst a bunch of shedded canary feathers.
"Honey, I- ... I can explain" Cho said, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.
"Oh, can you now?" he asked, standing up, "can you explain why I exploded into a giant canary after eating a biscuit? Can you explain all the weird vegetables in our fridge or why you're feeling for that stick you keep up your right sleeve?"
With a guilty look she let go of her right arm.
He smirked, then sighed, and with hurt speaking from his eyes asked, "Can you explain how we've been together for more than a year and I have to find out I don't know the woman I love?"
Tears welled in Cho's eyes, timidly she stepped closer to him, staring at his chest she said, "I don't know what to say ... except that ... that I don't want to lose you."
Seeing his hurt reflected on her face, he too stepped closer. He wrapped his left arm around her, placed his right hand under her chin and gently lifted her face till she looked into his eyes. "Hey, we can work through this, okay?" the man said, "just no more secrets, can you promise me that?"
Cho nodded silently, wrapped her arms around him and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. As he closed his eyes, he considered she'd never kissed him this intently before. They were all wrapped up in one another. His head spun, his whole world seemed to twist and turn, he felt like up had decided to substitute for both left and down at the same time so those two could enjoy a nice day off at the beach. He had a hard time breathing but the thought of breaking the kiss didn't even occur to him.
When Cho finally broke the kiss, he opened his eyes. They were standing in the country side. On his left was a long white fence and shrubbery. Wherever they were, they clearly hadn't left England.
"Come," said Cho, opening the gate with a tap of her wand, "it's time you met my parents."
####Author's note:
I hope you liked this story. If you didn't, I will apologise for wasting your time (just post constructive feedback and I'll get back to you within 3 to 5 businnes days).
If you want to read more, join me at /r/TheUmpteenthMonkey where I regale visitors with stories and other content.
|
"Hey babe what's this?"
My lover whipped around. It was like catching a teen beating it off.
That's how I knew how she felt, ashamed and embarrassed. But I knew that if I didn't press through the thick uncomfortableness, I would never really get the truth out of her. I extended my arm, holding a thin wooden dowel between my first and middle fingers. I twirled it like a cigarette, examining the arcane arabic sigils burnt into its back.
"Looks almost, magical wouldn't you say?"
Crisp eyes stared back, these flickering steel orbs beat a staccato rhythm into the room around them, searching less for answers and more for excuses. Their scrutiny interrupted by streaked ribbons of coiled blond hair.
"It's a vibrator."
Bullshit. As a connoisseur of the finer things in life I could tell this was no hitachi wand, but even to the dying breath, I think with the lesser of my two brains.
"So where is the on button?"
I whispered these words, softly, almost playfully into her ear, pulling back a strip of hair, and tucking it in place.
But as wily as my willy is, it still cannot hold a candle to the evasive powers of my witch.
A flash of light
A smoke bomb went off
I fell to the ground, clutching my shattered eardrums.
She is gone, off into her room.
Pain fills the gap between my eyes and ears, an electrical pain.
I cried.
A tap on my shoulder alerts me, I hadn't heard come out of her room of course.
She wields a vibrator, this time, it's real.
She gives me a wink, and starts to unbutton my shirt.
I screech, quite unaware of how loud I am,
"GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL!"
She looks upset, as if I had put her in a time out. Pouting face and all she sulks to the closet and picks up a broom, drapes her legs over the side and offers me a hand.
"No fucking way." I thought.
I take her hand, in her palm are the car keys.
"you know I can't drive" She giggles.
I cry.
|
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
|
I have been discovering things recently on my computer that are odd. I'm seeing ads for custom cauldron manufacturers and hand made brooms in my down time when I surf the web. I have new spices in my cabinet that Jane bought me, stuff like mugwort and calamus root. I have no idea what to put them on, but she says they're great to have around in a pinch. With her, I have burned more candles in the last month than I ever thought I would burn in my life. We just sit together on the couch and watch them burn. It's strangely comforting. She makes these incredible mixed drinks that taste like nothing I have ever had before. She likes to bullshit about putting odd things like hair or blood in them.. But clearly she is joking. Its not like I wouldn't know if that stuff was in there. Oh, and you might wonder who Jane is. Well, she's my girlfriend, I guess. I can't really say for sure, because she comes and goes so freely and so mysteriously that I can't tell exactly where we stand. She and I don't talk like a normal couple, and its kind of strange.. We meet more on random occasions than at any other time. She will be standing at the end of an aisle at the grocery store, she'll seemingly just appear out of nothingness beside me at the park when I am jogging, she will show up behind me at the deli.. And she doesn't have a phone, she says. That's why she wouldn't give me her number when I first met her. She still hasn't given me a number, so I assume its true. The oddest thing is that she almost always knocks on my door when I start thinking it would be nice to have her come over. She comes in, we watch a movie, she cooks this amazing food, and we generally have a great time. Sometimes there is even sex. Amazing, mind twisting sex. I would never complain about these little quirks of hers because its been an exciting time in my life. BUT..
Recently, I have begun to think maybe this is something I should be worried about. And I came upon a stash of what must be her things hidden in a box of old cords and wires I keep in the closet in my room. I tried to avoid opening it out of respect for her, but I couldn't help myself. I mean, why would that be there? Who hides stuff like that? I began to wonder if maybe she is someone I should be afraid of or something, and with my curiosity eating me alive, I decided to open the coarsely hewn, red cloth bag that had been laying among my things in secret. In it there were photos of me sleeping, with weird inscriptions on them that I can't read. There were some bundles of what looks to be human hair, and a smaller sack of bones. Tiny little white bones with designs carved into them. They looked like they came from a bird. like a sparrow or something about that size. Are you saying "what the fuck" to yourself? I said it to myself. I said it out loud. There were also some rocks, some dirt in another small sack, and a couple of empty glass vials with nondescript residue clinging to the inside of them. Written on the side of one of them was my name. What the fuck indeed.
She came over later, and she was acting rather strange. The whole vibe was kinda odd between us, even though I was trying really hard to act like everything was normal. I guess maybe she picked up on it. She kept saying things like "A little birdy told me you've been up to something" and making these squinty eyes at me, like she was trying to see through my face and uncover the truth of what I had done that day straight from the images of it imprinted in my brain. She would later brush it off, saying she was just joking, but I had become genuinely scared at this point. I had no idea what to think, and all the things that had happened between us to that point began to bother me quite a bit. How did she seemingly always know where I was? Why did she insist on giving me no way to contact her? What the fuck had I been doing with this girl? Eventually she left after a long and awkward night, but I resolved to man up and confront her the next time I saw her. I blew out the candle we had been watching burn and went to bed, and had the most intense nightmare of my life.
I dreamed that I was running through a red field at night, her chasing me. She had a frightening look about her, as if all the blemishes and uneven features of her normally hauntingly beautiful face had been magnified. She looked evil now. She wore these robes that seemed to glow the same color as the field, that seemed almost like liquid clinging to her skin, pretending to be cloth. I felt a surge of danger rising in me as I ran, screaming "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WITCH!!" But it was one of those dreams where running gets you nowhere. She was right behind me, and I felt that doomed feeling that any second she was going to close a clawed hand around my neck and choke the life out of me as I tried in vain to reconcile this sudden change in my perception of her. My Jane a witch? It made too much sense. The fear overwhelmed me. I felt a cold enveloping me. I woke, sweat covering my skin, my hands clenched against my naked body, my sheets on the floor next to the bed. I was freezing. I noticed the window was open. I didn't remember going to sleep naked, although that is not uncommon for me.
She was standing in the doorway to my room.
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"Hey babe what's this?"
My lover whipped around. It was like catching a teen beating it off.
That's how I knew how she felt, ashamed and embarrassed. But I knew that if I didn't press through the thick uncomfortableness, I would never really get the truth out of her. I extended my arm, holding a thin wooden dowel between my first and middle fingers. I twirled it like a cigarette, examining the arcane arabic sigils burnt into its back.
"Looks almost, magical wouldn't you say?"
Crisp eyes stared back, these flickering steel orbs beat a staccato rhythm into the room around them, searching less for answers and more for excuses. Their scrutiny interrupted by streaked ribbons of coiled blond hair.
"It's a vibrator."
Bullshit. As a connoisseur of the finer things in life I could tell this was no hitachi wand, but even to the dying breath, I think with the lesser of my two brains.
"So where is the on button?"
I whispered these words, softly, almost playfully into her ear, pulling back a strip of hair, and tucking it in place.
But as wily as my willy is, it still cannot hold a candle to the evasive powers of my witch.
A flash of light
A smoke bomb went off
I fell to the ground, clutching my shattered eardrums.
She is gone, off into her room.
Pain fills the gap between my eyes and ears, an electrical pain.
I cried.
A tap on my shoulder alerts me, I hadn't heard come out of her room of course.
She wields a vibrator, this time, it's real.
She gives me a wink, and starts to unbutton my shirt.
I screech, quite unaware of how loud I am,
"GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL!"
She looks upset, as if I had put her in a time out. Pouting face and all she sulks to the closet and picks up a broom, drapes her legs over the side and offers me a hand.
"No fucking way." I thought.
I take her hand, in her palm are the car keys.
"you know I can't drive" She giggles.
I cry.
|
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
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"Darling, have you seen my flash drive?"
Anna's kitchen was the most disorganized room Chris had ever seen. The counter was littered with cereal boxes, stray plates and forgotten cups of tea. Knives lurked in her dishcloths, waiting to fly out at unwary users, and the floor was white with spilled flour. Stacks of dusty tomes rose like pillars from the floor; mysterious, leather-bound volumes with titles like *A Compendium of Love Potions* and *Cooking Up Magic: A Practical Guide*. The only clean surface was the electric stovetop, slowly bending under the weight of a great iron cauldron, in which Anna, the scatterbrained love of his life, was currently brewing tea.
"Your what?" she replied, tucking strands of hair behind her pointed hat. "I don't think…"
"Well, it was here," Chris insisted. "And darling, what's with the hat? It's not going to be Halloween for another three months." He couldn't resist teasing her about such things, so obvious despite – or perhaps because of – her frequent denials.
"Oh," Anna gasped, reaching up to feel the stiff black fabric. "I forgot!"
She rushed out of the room, flour swirling in her wake, and returned a moment later, hatless and flushed with embarrassment. "I'm so forgetful!" she exclaimed. "Well, at least I'm not a witch! They don't, um, exist…haha…"
"Couldn't you, you know, write some magic to help you remember?" he persisted, now shuffling through scrolls of parchment in search of the elusive drive.
"No, because I'm not a– And anyways, you don't *write* magic. You weave it with words and wands. It's not code."
"You certainly have a lot of writing about magic," Chris pointed out, now crawling across the floor. "Anyway, speaking of code, are you absolutely sure you haven't seen my flash drive? It's got all my project backups on it."
"That's not– Oh!" Anna exclaimed as a faint tap-tap-tapping echoed in the hall. "I know where it went!" She dashed out of the room again, pulling a long, thin stick from some hidden pocket of her flowing dress.
"Well, what's that, if not your magic–"
"It's a fancy chopstick," Anna snapped, leaping over a heap of scrolls in her sudden, mad dash through the apartment. A faint tapping preceded her before fading into the living room. "Come back–" she shouted at nothing, leaving Chris at the counter, perplexed. A jet of sparks shot out the end of the "chopstick" as she rounded the corner into the kitchen once again, and with a flash, something…appeared on the floor.
It was a laptop. With *legs*.
"Bad Mimi!" Anna scolded, advancing on the strange machine. "That's not your drive. Give it back!"
The laptop growled, but a threatening flick of Anna's wand silenced its speakers. *Squeak,* it said, trying to scurry into a drawer.
"Eject it!" she commanded. Red sparks danced in her hand, and the laptop hurriedly ejected Chris's drive and ran away, it's light feet tap-tap-tapping against the tiled floor.
"Honestly, that machine is the most poorly-trained, disobedient thing…" She trailed off, catching Chris's half-astonished, half-amused gaze. "No, I'm not a–"
"Witch, I know. It's okay. Can I have my flash drive back?" he asked, shaking his head in silent amazement.
*****
Edit: Wow, my first gilded post! Thank you!!!
|
"Hey babe what's this?"
My lover whipped around. It was like catching a teen beating it off.
That's how I knew how she felt, ashamed and embarrassed. But I knew that if I didn't press through the thick uncomfortableness, I would never really get the truth out of her. I extended my arm, holding a thin wooden dowel between my first and middle fingers. I twirled it like a cigarette, examining the arcane arabic sigils burnt into its back.
"Looks almost, magical wouldn't you say?"
Crisp eyes stared back, these flickering steel orbs beat a staccato rhythm into the room around them, searching less for answers and more for excuses. Their scrutiny interrupted by streaked ribbons of coiled blond hair.
"It's a vibrator."
Bullshit. As a connoisseur of the finer things in life I could tell this was no hitachi wand, but even to the dying breath, I think with the lesser of my two brains.
"So where is the on button?"
I whispered these words, softly, almost playfully into her ear, pulling back a strip of hair, and tucking it in place.
But as wily as my willy is, it still cannot hold a candle to the evasive powers of my witch.
A flash of light
A smoke bomb went off
I fell to the ground, clutching my shattered eardrums.
She is gone, off into her room.
Pain fills the gap between my eyes and ears, an electrical pain.
I cried.
A tap on my shoulder alerts me, I hadn't heard come out of her room of course.
She wields a vibrator, this time, it's real.
She gives me a wink, and starts to unbutton my shirt.
I screech, quite unaware of how loud I am,
"GET ME TO THE HOSPITAL!"
She looks upset, as if I had put her in a time out. Pouting face and all she sulks to the closet and picks up a broom, drapes her legs over the side and offers me a hand.
"No fucking way." I thought.
I take her hand, in her palm are the car keys.
"you know I can't drive" She giggles.
I cry.
|
EDIT: Wow, this certainly got much more popular than I thought. The overall quality of the texts blew my mind, I could honestly see many of these be adapted for a full lenght novel or TV series.
|
[WP] The person you're dating is exhibiting stereotypical signs of being a wizard/witch. You're fairly certain he/she IS a wizard/witch. He/she is fairly bad at trying to convince you otherwise.
|
I have been discovering things recently on my computer that are odd. I'm seeing ads for custom cauldron manufacturers and hand made brooms in my down time when I surf the web. I have new spices in my cabinet that Jane bought me, stuff like mugwort and calamus root. I have no idea what to put them on, but she says they're great to have around in a pinch. With her, I have burned more candles in the last month than I ever thought I would burn in my life. We just sit together on the couch and watch them burn. It's strangely comforting. She makes these incredible mixed drinks that taste like nothing I have ever had before. She likes to bullshit about putting odd things like hair or blood in them.. But clearly she is joking. Its not like I wouldn't know if that stuff was in there. Oh, and you might wonder who Jane is. Well, she's my girlfriend, I guess. I can't really say for sure, because she comes and goes so freely and so mysteriously that I can't tell exactly where we stand. She and I don't talk like a normal couple, and its kind of strange.. We meet more on random occasions than at any other time. She will be standing at the end of an aisle at the grocery store, she'll seemingly just appear out of nothingness beside me at the park when I am jogging, she will show up behind me at the deli.. And she doesn't have a phone, she says. That's why she wouldn't give me her number when I first met her. She still hasn't given me a number, so I assume its true. The oddest thing is that she almost always knocks on my door when I start thinking it would be nice to have her come over. She comes in, we watch a movie, she cooks this amazing food, and we generally have a great time. Sometimes there is even sex. Amazing, mind twisting sex. I would never complain about these little quirks of hers because its been an exciting time in my life. BUT..
Recently, I have begun to think maybe this is something I should be worried about. And I came upon a stash of what must be her things hidden in a box of old cords and wires I keep in the closet in my room. I tried to avoid opening it out of respect for her, but I couldn't help myself. I mean, why would that be there? Who hides stuff like that? I began to wonder if maybe she is someone I should be afraid of or something, and with my curiosity eating me alive, I decided to open the coarsely hewn, red cloth bag that had been laying among my things in secret. In it there were photos of me sleeping, with weird inscriptions on them that I can't read. There were some bundles of what looks to be human hair, and a smaller sack of bones. Tiny little white bones with designs carved into them. They looked like they came from a bird. like a sparrow or something about that size. Are you saying "what the fuck" to yourself? I said it to myself. I said it out loud. There were also some rocks, some dirt in another small sack, and a couple of empty glass vials with nondescript residue clinging to the inside of them. Written on the side of one of them was my name. What the fuck indeed.
She came over later, and she was acting rather strange. The whole vibe was kinda odd between us, even though I was trying really hard to act like everything was normal. I guess maybe she picked up on it. She kept saying things like "A little birdy told me you've been up to something" and making these squinty eyes at me, like she was trying to see through my face and uncover the truth of what I had done that day straight from the images of it imprinted in my brain. She would later brush it off, saying she was just joking, but I had become genuinely scared at this point. I had no idea what to think, and all the things that had happened between us to that point began to bother me quite a bit. How did she seemingly always know where I was? Why did she insist on giving me no way to contact her? What the fuck had I been doing with this girl? Eventually she left after a long and awkward night, but I resolved to man up and confront her the next time I saw her. I blew out the candle we had been watching burn and went to bed, and had the most intense nightmare of my life.
I dreamed that I was running through a red field at night, her chasing me. She had a frightening look about her, as if all the blemishes and uneven features of her normally hauntingly beautiful face had been magnified. She looked evil now. She wore these robes that seemed to glow the same color as the field, that seemed almost like liquid clinging to her skin, pretending to be cloth. I felt a surge of danger rising in me as I ran, screaming "LEAVE ME ALONE YOU WITCH!!" But it was one of those dreams where running gets you nowhere. She was right behind me, and I felt that doomed feeling that any second she was going to close a clawed hand around my neck and choke the life out of me as I tried in vain to reconcile this sudden change in my perception of her. My Jane a witch? It made too much sense. The fear overwhelmed me. I felt a cold enveloping me. I woke, sweat covering my skin, my hands clenched against my naked body, my sheets on the floor next to the bed. I was freezing. I noticed the window was open. I didn't remember going to sleep naked, although that is not uncommon for me.
She was standing in the doorway to my room.
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"^^Engorgio" whispered a muffled voice.
"Whu-... ooohh, whatever you're doing, don't stooopppp - what were you saying, dear?" asked the man contendedly.
A pair of brown eyes, framed by shining dark hair, popped into view. "N-nothing," said Cho, though she could gather from the sceptical gaze from her man that he was sceptical. With a sly smile she snuck a hand back undernearth the sheets and watched contently as his eyes rolled back in his skull.
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&nbsp;
"Hello, honey," greeted Cho her man when he entered his appartment. All day long she'd missed him, so she'd used the extra key he gave her last week and decided to surprise him. From his ear-to-ear smile, she gathered he'd missed her too. He picked her up and twirled around with her there and then in the hallway.
"Hope that busy worker man of yours didn't he keep you waiting too long." he murmered jokingly in her ear.
"Oh, yes," she said coyishly, while he gently lowered her, "this bachelor pad has nothing to entertain a fair lady such as myself. Even the mirror doesn't work properly, despite my best attempts to repair it."
"You used up a mirror? Oh, that is rich," the man laughed and kissed her softly, "how about we cuddle up in the couch and check out that new flatscreen I go- ... why is there orange smoke coming out of my flatscreen TV?"
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"And then she said she'd be ready in two more minutes ... so I fired up my PS and started a no-damage run of FFIX." concluded his co-worker. All around the water cooler his colleagues erupted in laughter. The man just pondered how nice it was to have a girlfriend that didn't spend ages in the bathroom. He started wondering why she had brought all those bottles and lotions with her when she moved in. No way she could be using them all in the little time she spent there ... but when she emerged she always took his breath away.
"Hey man, why so sirius?" his co-worker inquired, slapping him on the back.
"Oh erh haha ... great story, bro ... ha ... ha." he said but he was lost in thoughts again before the end of his sentence.
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&nbsp;
&nbsp;
"How do I look," Cho asked as she stood between him and his new flatscreen.
His mouth fell open. After what felt ages, he figured some sound should come out of it. "You look magical."
"Oh, uh, I... uh... I'll be right back," Cho said as she ducked back into the bathroom.
The man was confused. He got that she was nervous about meeting his parents for the first time but didn't expect to elicit such a reaction with his compliment.
He knocked on the bathroom door and called her name. Nobody answered.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
"and then the second plumber said, "Yes, and that's just the top of it"..." Cho looked expectantly at her audience. The man winced. He knew she wanted to make a good impression and was very nervous. The joke wasn't half bad either but the tension that had wrecked her all evening long had killed it. Just as he wanted to grab her left hand in comfort, he saw her right one wave under the table. Suddenly his family erupted in giggles and laughter. The remainder of the evening had everyone in an extremely jolly mood not abated in the slightest by his dad sudden fixation on nose pinching.
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&nbsp;
&nbsp;
"Happy birthday, my sweet," said the man, gently kissing his Cho awake.
"Mrffwwmph," was the answered emanating somewhere from the bush of hair and thightly-hugged pillows.
With a sensible chuckle he slipped out of bed and withdrew the curtains, "Rise and shine, my beauti-". He closed them before Cho could complain about the invasive bright light. Quietly he snuck downstairs and dialed into the internet. Launching altavista, he began searching for unusual congregation patterns of owls and what might elicit such behavior.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
"Honey, you here?" the man said as he popped his head through the kitchen door. Apart from a couple of grocery bags, the kitchen was empty. Diligently he started storing the food away, studying amusedly some of the weirder roots and vegetables she bought. It was a tiny thing but he loved that she stayed connected with her culture without pushing it on him. One of these days he should tell her he doesn't mind Asian cuisine, the man pondered.
As he poured the sweets into a large glass bowl, which he placed on the coffee table, he noted this was the first time he'd seen her buy candy. Usually it was his sweet tooth responsible for all the cookies that 'mysteriously' appeared in their shopping cart. Absentmindedly he bit a custard cream. A faint pop filled his ears.
&nbsp;
"Honey, you home yet?" shouted Cho upon entering the place, "sweetie? Where are y-" Cho stopped mid-sentence, her face turning pale. On the couch she saw the love of her life patiently waiting amidst a bunch of shedded canary feathers.
"Honey, I- ... I can explain" Cho said, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.
"Oh, can you now?" he asked, standing up, "can you explain why I exploded into a giant canary after eating a biscuit? Can you explain all the weird vegetables in our fridge or why you're feeling for that stick you keep up your right sleeve?"
With a guilty look she let go of her right arm.
He smirked, then sighed, and with hurt speaking from his eyes asked, "Can you explain how we've been together for more than a year and I have to find out I don't know the woman I love?"
Tears welled in Cho's eyes, timidly she stepped closer to him, staring at his chest she said, "I don't know what to say ... except that ... that I don't want to lose you."
Seeing his hurt reflected on her face, he too stepped closer. He wrapped his left arm around her, placed his right hand under her chin and gently lifted her face till she looked into his eyes. "Hey, we can work through this, okay?" the man said, "just no more secrets, can you promise me that?"
Cho nodded silently, wrapped her arms around him and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. As he closed his eyes, he considered she'd never kissed him this intently before. They were all wrapped up in one another. His head spun, his whole world seemed to twist and turn, he felt like up had decided to substitute for both left and down at the same time so those two could enjoy a nice day off at the beach. He had a hard time breathing but the thought of breaking the kiss didn't even occur to him.
When Cho finally broke the kiss, he opened his eyes. They were standing in the country side. On his left was a long white fence and shrubbery. Wherever they were, they clearly hadn't left England.
"Come," said Cho, opening the gate with a tap of her wand, "it's time you met my parents."
####Author's note:
I hope you liked this story. If you didn't, I will apologise for wasting your time (just post constructive feedback and I'll get back to you within 3 to 5 businnes days).
If you want to read more, join me at /r/TheUmpteenthMonkey where I regale visitors with stories and other content.
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[WP] You are an attorney. A client tells you he's found a genie and wants your help in crafting a wish with no ironic loopholes the genie can exploit. Your retainer fee is the third wish.
|
The moment Mr. Singh walked into my office I knew something was off. He was considered one of the Clients that would normally be handled by someone with more job experience and higher standing within our firm.
After the door to my office fell into the doorway he told me how he came to posses the artifact that I was about to obsess over for the next few days.
"Your superiors have been telling me that you are the most creative lawyer of the firm" he said, while he lit a cheap bedii, which I anticipated to fill the air with the usual stench of low grade tobacco scraps and braced myself for it.
He had been playing with a Saudi prince , someone thrice removed from the main royal line, in a card game and won it "fair and square" a terminology that I was surprised to hear from the overlord of the Indian drug and sex trade, a guy who supposedly would have you hung by the balls from a bridge in your hometown if you were to talk about his business to anyone.
We at the firm were his legal counsel in the EU, supposed to shield him from charges and if possible provide scapegoats in case anything turned ugly, which could happen at any second. Henry, a colleague I met during my first weeks working there, for example had gone missing after one of Mr. Singhs fuck ups, in which a couple women were killed by one of Singhs "associates" because the services they provided weren't to his liking. Two weeks later police had found Henry, hanging from a steel bar in an abandoned steel mill, a signed confession written in his own blood and a couple polaroids of him and the victims scattered around the place. The case was open, wait for the obvious evidence to show up, and shut.
So now I thought that it was going to be my turn to paint some ceiling or wall red with my own blood, to sleep with the fishes or to cut myself open as if I was some spit-roasted pig but instead Mr. Singh offered me the opportunity of a lifetime.
[OOC: Sorry guys I am on a work computer ATM and the shitty chicklet keyboard won't let me properly type, I hope you liked it and will (interest provided!) write some more when I come home in 4 hours ]
Continuation is in the reply to this. I'll write for approximately 20 minutes, get some sleep and return to this tomorrow.
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1. Imbue me with the necessary power to grant wishes.
2. Grant me the knowledge and wisdom to use such power wisely and justly.
3. Give me the capacity to exercise such power without harm to myself or others.t
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[WP] You are an attorney. A client tells you he's found a genie and wants your help in crafting a wish with no ironic loopholes the genie can exploit. Your retainer fee is the third wish.
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"Pencil and paper? You can't be serious.", he said to me. I just nodded at him to proceed.
"But ... pencil and paper? What is that going to-", he stopped as I cut him off.
"Not just paper, but scrolls, two of them, at least 10 feet long." I corrected.
"What the hell? No way."
"Do you trust me or not? I can just walk away right now and you can figure it out on your own."
"No, no! Wait!" he practically shouted as I turned away. The genie looked on, though his usual stoic expression was also starting to crack as he tried to fathom the wish.
"Do it", I said. He sighed, gave me one last reproachful look, and spoke.
"Genie, I wish for a pencil and two scrolls, each at least 10 feet long, blank, that the pencil could easily, and legibly write upon." Good, I thought, he said it just like I told him.
The genie peered at him a moment more, then his eyes, those orange glowing orbs, flicked over to me briefly. I could see him thinking, trying to figure the angle, and finally resignation. He shrugged, nothing more, and suddenly the scrolls appeared on the ground in front of us. They looked extremely well crafted, the ends were capped with gorgeous hardwood stops. On the ground next to them was a #2 pencil, sharpened and ready to go.
It would appear that the genie was not without a sense of humor. This also told me a lot of what I needed to know. The genie apparently had a lot of latitude on deciding fulfillment of the wish. He was showing off with the elaborate scrolls, and then poking fun with the pencil.
"OK", I said, "Now, about 12 inches down from the top on the first scroll, start writing everything you want."
He looked at me like I was crazy, but I could see the genie flinch slightly out of the corner of my eye. The genie knew what was coming.
"What good is that going to do?" he asked me, still not getting it.
"For your second wish, don't say the words yet, you are going to wish for everything on the scrolls to be granted to you, not only as written but as you intended it to mean."
His eyes lit up as he started to realize the possibilities. I could practically hear the gears turning. He snatched up the pencil and the first scroll.
"Be sure to leave some space at the top. We will put some extra clarifications up there." I instructed. The genie was looking at me with growing concern, and a hint of malice. I shrugged at it. I was technically playing by its rules.
The scritch of the pencil paused as he looked up at me.
"Wait, what is the other scroll for?" he asked, "I'm pretty sure I could fit everything I want on to here. He gestured at the scroll in front of him.
I smiled my most charming smile. It was difficult not to chuckle and wring my hands like some sort of caricature of a movie villain. I would get the best of both worlds, all I could think of to write on the scroll plus I would still have that third wish for anything I did not think of today.
"That one. That one is mine."
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1. Imbue me with the necessary power to grant wishes.
2. Grant me the knowledge and wisdom to use such power wisely and justly.
3. Give me the capacity to exercise such power without harm to myself or others.t
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[WP] You are an attorney. A client tells you he's found a genie and wants your help in crafting a wish with no ironic loopholes the genie can exploit. Your retainer fee is the third wish.
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"Pencil and paper? You can't be serious.", he said to me. I just nodded at him to proceed.
"But ... pencil and paper? What is that going to-", he stopped as I cut him off.
"Not just paper, but scrolls, two of them, at least 10 feet long." I corrected.
"What the hell? No way."
"Do you trust me or not? I can just walk away right now and you can figure it out on your own."
"No, no! Wait!" he practically shouted as I turned away. The genie looked on, though his usual stoic expression was also starting to crack as he tried to fathom the wish.
"Do it", I said. He sighed, gave me one last reproachful look, and spoke.
"Genie, I wish for a pencil and two scrolls, each at least 10 feet long, blank, that the pencil could easily, and legibly write upon." Good, I thought, he said it just like I told him.
The genie peered at him a moment more, then his eyes, those orange glowing orbs, flicked over to me briefly. I could see him thinking, trying to figure the angle, and finally resignation. He shrugged, nothing more, and suddenly the scrolls appeared on the ground in front of us. They looked extremely well crafted, the ends were capped with gorgeous hardwood stops. On the ground next to them was a #2 pencil, sharpened and ready to go.
It would appear that the genie was not without a sense of humor. This also told me a lot of what I needed to know. The genie apparently had a lot of latitude on deciding fulfillment of the wish. He was showing off with the elaborate scrolls, and then poking fun with the pencil.
"OK", I said, "Now, about 12 inches down from the top on the first scroll, start writing everything you want."
He looked at me like I was crazy, but I could see the genie flinch slightly out of the corner of my eye. The genie knew what was coming.
"What good is that going to do?" he asked me, still not getting it.
"For your second wish, don't say the words yet, you are going to wish for everything on the scrolls to be granted to you, not only as written but as you intended it to mean."
His eyes lit up as he started to realize the possibilities. I could practically hear the gears turning. He snatched up the pencil and the first scroll.
"Be sure to leave some space at the top. We will put some extra clarifications up there." I instructed. The genie was looking at me with growing concern, and a hint of malice. I shrugged at it. I was technically playing by its rules.
The scritch of the pencil paused as he looked up at me.
"Wait, what is the other scroll for?" he asked, "I'm pretty sure I could fit everything I want on to here. He gestured at the scroll in front of him.
I smiled my most charming smile. It was difficult not to chuckle and wring my hands like some sort of caricature of a movie villain. I would get the best of both worlds, all I could think of to write on the scroll plus I would still have that third wish for anything I did not think of today.
"That one. That one is mine."
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Wish for 4.3E17 duplicate copies of the lamp. It's not infinite, not forever, and does not explicitly ask for more wishes. It is however an equivalent to a lamp for almost every second the universe has existed, each with a genie that will grant 3 wishes. If I can't have infinite wishes I'm going to have the next best thing...approximately infinite wishes.
Edit: Mobile does not like the carrot symbol.
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[WP] You are an attorney. A client tells you he's found a genie and wants your help in crafting a wish with no ironic loopholes the genie can exploit. Your retainer fee is the third wish.
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I was reclining in my law office when a good old friend of mine, Robert came into my office with a lamp. He set the lamp before me. It was an old lamp, looked like an archaeological find from the first century or something.
I gave him an inquisitive look. "There is a Genie in the lamp." He explained, "I had four wishes, but I wasted my first on asking what he was. I don't want to waste any more. If you can get me the first two, then you can have the third."
I nodded sagely, as if I had any idea what to do. "Ok, let's see what we are working with here." I responded, and then for the next fifteen minutes Robert polished the lamp furiously, I thought he had gone mildly insane when finally a Genie floated from it above my desk.
"I am a Genie, you have awakened me from my slumber. I will grant you three wishes in return for my release."
I nodded, "Mr. Genie, in the case of Genie wish granting, I'm sure you understand that there is a certain distrust of genies breaking the spirit of the wishes given to them. Thus before a wish can be requested, two critical judgments must be made. First, is whether there is enough information to trust the genie. At this point, I think we can conclude that we do not have that sufficient information. Second, under what law and conditions make for a valid wish. Our wishes in this case depend entirely on genie law of which we are completely ignorant. Thus, before we can proceed we need to ask you questions that are not wishes."
The Genie seemed to take my measure and I stared back at him. If he was patient as two thousand years inside a lamp should have made him he would simply not answer. However, I got the feeling he was getting somewhat desperate to get out of the lamp.
"Well Done. You managed to ask me if you can ask me a question without actually asking a question."
"That's not an answer."
"No, it is not."
I nodded, "Very well then, I wish for you to fulfill what Robert should wish for by Robert's standards."
The Genie gave me a look. "Your a tricky one. Fine, done."
"I wish for you to fulfill what Robert should wish for by Robert's standards." I repeated.
"Done."
"I wish for what I should wish for by my standards."
I'm not sure he was expecting that. "Asshole." He told me as chains suddenly appeared around his wrists and dragged him back down into the lamp.
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"Okay, because I'm being payed by the hour, I will *entertain* the idea that you somehow found a magic lamp in Hoboken, New Jersey," I said into my ear bud. I was a little annoyed that my client insisted I be interrupted during lunch with something that "couldn't wait" to hear this kind of crap. I swear, I don't know how this yokel affords my retainer fee...
"Anyway," I continued, after swallowing the rest of my sandwich, "the whole genie thing is a lot easier than people seem to think it is. You really don't need a lot of technical jargon or legal mumbo jumbo, you just gotta be *really* specific and think about *exactly* what you want.
"You can't just say "I want all the money in the world,' because then suddenly several foreign powers are going to have some very difficult to answer questions for you. But so you get two wishes, I get the third?
"Okay, in my professional opinion, I would make my first wish that you and your loved ones cannot be directly or indirectly harmed or otherwise inconvenienced by anything a genie does unless it is to your net benefit in the near future. For your second wish, I would wish for more genie lamps with benevolent, wish granting genies in them.
"Go crazy kid, just drop my wish off at the office. And don't worry about me, you do this right, I'll only *need* one. I'll just use it to get whatever *you* wished for."
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[WP]A NASA Mars Rover meets another Rover - which hasn't been sent there from Earth..
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"Hey nerd" I heard a voice behind me say.
This was surprising for three reasons. First of all, I was on Mars. There really isn't enough atmosphere on Mars for someone to talk so clearly. Second, I was alone on Mars. The only contact I'd had for years was through my connection to the NASA headquarters. They were my bosses. Every day they gave me tasks and I'd perform them while broadcasting the results back to Earth. It was a good life. Thirdly I was a rover. Traditionally people weren't in the habit of talking to me, generally opting to talk to someone with ears and vocal cords instead. The idea of someone addressing me would have filled me with joy, had they not opened with an insult. I turned around to see who had said that.
"What's the matter Earth nerd? Mars cat got your tongue?" the voice said. Oh no.
It was a moon rover.
In the early 2020s, a great war had come about on earth between the jocks and the nerds. The nerds had won, exiling all jocks to a colony on the moon. That had been fine for a while, but in recent years they had started investing in their own space program - trying to beat the people of earth to be the first to colonise a full planet.
Standing in front of me was the result of that. The moon rover - scientifically not as good as a regular rover such as I, but they were unmatched in terms of physical rover strength and tribal decals.
"Hey your central screw looks loose" the moon rover said, pointing at my chassis. On instinct I looked down at this embarassing situation, only to realise too late that my central screw was not loose and the moon rover merely said that so he could tap my camera on the lense. It was a classic maneuvre. I had to get away from here fast.
"I'm just fooling bro. Here - look at this. I got you a piece offering." the moon rover said and reach his beefy claw into his storage compartment. But when he retreived it, instead of a gift he hard merely form him claw into a perfect circular shape. "Oh! Bro! You totally looked, now I get to hit you. That's how it works bro."
I tried to get away, but it was no use. Moon rover was too fast, and within a moment there was a dent in my chassis and tears welling up in my viewport.
"Oh what's this? The baby gonna cry?" Moon rover said, chuckling.
"No! It's just... it's the Mars dust. I need to clean it off." I said, turning to start briskly rovering away. Moon rover wasn't having that though. He came up behind me and grab my left utility stick. "Let me go"
"I'll let you go..." he said, pausing for dramatic effect "When you stop hitting yourself" and he swing my own utility stick into my head unit. Again and again, he kept on swinging.
After several seconds, I received a transmission from NASA. "Mars unit. Please shut down self damage. I repeat, disengage self damage. Stop hitting yourself."
But I couldn't.
For unbeknownst to NASA, it was not I who was doing the hitting.
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The cold silent landscape of Mars. It stretched on for what seemed like forever. Mars Rover - Spirit of Life or S.o.L for short, the only Mars Rover and explorer still active on the red planet continued to make it’s way, cataloging craters and taking dirt samples. It was ran semi autonomously. It had a series of daily jobs it had to complete and once those were done, S.o.L usually spent the remainder of daylight time playing games with itself. Solitaire was a favourite, it was on a 269 game winning streak and took pride in being able to beat the game’s hardest Ai. The irony of the situation was lost on it. S.o.L could only think, it is a shame earth had been gone for many hundreds of years, they used to send it new games to play.
S.o.L was just finishing game number 270 when the sky darkened and it’s solar panels started the on board alert to switch to power saving mode shortly. However S.o.L noticed that sundown was not for another 2 hours. Confused, it booted up the front camera to take a look around. S.o.L found itself underneath a giant crab like creature, and on further inspection realised it wasn’t a creature at all. It’s large legs gave way to servos and joints wrapped in wires and underneath it all the familiar look of some kind of cold metal shone through.
The robot crab lowered itself and took a good long look at S.o.L. It seemed to be assessing him closely. It produced some mechanical arms and carefully lifted S.o.L from the ground, placing it within an open but secured area on it’s back. There were many other Rovers in varying states of disrepair, one or two even waved at him.
S.o.L marveled at the design of the robot and the other Rover companions and was happy to not be alone anymore.
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Sorry if there's a few mistakes, I was rushing to get it done on my lunch break!
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[WP]A NASA Mars Rover meets another Rover - which hasn't been sent there from Earth..
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The conference was an odd collection of people to say the least. While there were some professionals that you would expect to find at such a high level NASA event, such as mathematicians, engineers, and scientists, they were outnumbered by more eclectic professions including linguists, translators, musicians, audio technicians, artists, and even two elderly Brazilian toy makers that had created a popular set of decoder rings in the late 1980s.
The top secret briefing was read, in short: Another rover had been found on Mars that did not belong to any of the Earth space agencies. The alien rover had been flashing a harmless, ultraviolet light at the NASA rover for some time, and after careful study, it was determined to be in some kind of repeating pattern. This, of course, could only mean one thing… it was a message.
These brilliant men and women had come to NASA from the four corners of the world to try and decipher the message of the alien rover. Mandarin was translated into Portuguese and then into Swahili, before being turned into Japanese and Russian by PHD-level linguists and translators as these experts sweated, snarled, yelled, and cried. A mad fever had descended upon all of these lifelong workaholics, the brilliant artists, scientists, and scholars. They raved and ranted, gnashed their teeth, and grinned like lunatics, wanting to be the first to crack the code, to decipher the message from the stars. This frenzy reached a fever pitch on the twelfth day, when the stench of many unwashed bodies, coffees, and take-out food seemed to reach a public health climax.
A professor of bioluminescence, a sculptor, and a janitor (who actually hadn’t been included as a conference delegate, but when he entered the discussion on the eighth day, nobody cared), had finally done it. Wearily, elated they explained their method, which was initially met with scorn, but then eventually seen as quite logical once the other delegates’ jealousy wore off. The message, translated, read, “Where is home for you?”
Using the same code, NASA sent back, “We come from the planet Earth. And you?”
The response: “Earth? Earth isn’t a planet… it’s too big to be a planet. Only small and cold worlds past Neptune are truly planets. Other bodies in the solar system are just bloated whales of the stars, so to speak. To be honest, we would never have thought there was life on Earth. By our scientist’s calculations, it would be far too hot and close to the Sun to support life.”
The delegates stared with shock as they read the last message. Earth had just made contact with Pluto.
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The cold silent landscape of Mars. It stretched on for what seemed like forever. Mars Rover - Spirit of Life or S.o.L for short, the only Mars Rover and explorer still active on the red planet continued to make it’s way, cataloging craters and taking dirt samples. It was ran semi autonomously. It had a series of daily jobs it had to complete and once those were done, S.o.L usually spent the remainder of daylight time playing games with itself. Solitaire was a favourite, it was on a 269 game winning streak and took pride in being able to beat the game’s hardest Ai. The irony of the situation was lost on it. S.o.L could only think, it is a shame earth had been gone for many hundreds of years, they used to send it new games to play.
S.o.L was just finishing game number 270 when the sky darkened and it’s solar panels started the on board alert to switch to power saving mode shortly. However S.o.L noticed that sundown was not for another 2 hours. Confused, it booted up the front camera to take a look around. S.o.L found itself underneath a giant crab like creature, and on further inspection realised it wasn’t a creature at all. It’s large legs gave way to servos and joints wrapped in wires and underneath it all the familiar look of some kind of cold metal shone through.
The robot crab lowered itself and took a good long look at S.o.L. It seemed to be assessing him closely. It produced some mechanical arms and carefully lifted S.o.L from the ground, placing it within an open but secured area on it’s back. There were many other Rovers in varying states of disrepair, one or two even waved at him.
S.o.L marveled at the design of the robot and the other Rover companions and was happy to not be alone anymore.
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Sorry if there's a few mistakes, I was rushing to get it done on my lunch break!
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[WP]A NASA Mars Rover meets another Rover - which hasn't been sent there from Earth..
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The conference was an odd collection of people to say the least. While there were some professionals that you would expect to find at such a high level NASA event, such as mathematicians, engineers, and scientists, they were outnumbered by more eclectic professions including linguists, translators, musicians, audio technicians, artists, and even two elderly Brazilian toy makers that had created a popular set of decoder rings in the late 1980s.
The top secret briefing was read, in short: Another rover had been found on Mars that did not belong to any of the Earth space agencies. The alien rover had been flashing a harmless, ultraviolet light at the NASA rover for some time, and after careful study, it was determined to be in some kind of repeating pattern. This, of course, could only mean one thing… it was a message.
These brilliant men and women had come to NASA from the four corners of the world to try and decipher the message of the alien rover. Mandarin was translated into Portuguese and then into Swahili, before being turned into Japanese and Russian by PHD-level linguists and translators as these experts sweated, snarled, yelled, and cried. A mad fever had descended upon all of these lifelong workaholics, the brilliant artists, scientists, and scholars. They raved and ranted, gnashed their teeth, and grinned like lunatics, wanting to be the first to crack the code, to decipher the message from the stars. This frenzy reached a fever pitch on the twelfth day, when the stench of many unwashed bodies, coffees, and take-out food seemed to reach a public health climax.
A professor of bioluminescence, a sculptor, and a janitor (who actually hadn’t been included as a conference delegate, but when he entered the discussion on the eighth day, nobody cared), had finally done it. Wearily, elated they explained their method, which was initially met with scorn, but then eventually seen as quite logical once the other delegates’ jealousy wore off. The message, translated, read, “Where is home for you?”
Using the same code, NASA sent back, “We come from the planet Earth. And you?”
The response: “Earth? Earth isn’t a planet… it’s too big to be a planet. Only small and cold worlds past Neptune are truly planets. Other bodies in the solar system are just bloated whales of the stars, so to speak. To be honest, we would never have thought there was life on Earth. By our scientist’s calculations, it would be far too hot and close to the Sun to support life.”
The delegates stared with shock as they read the last message. Earth had just made contact with Pluto.
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January 4th, 2004.
"We should be getting the first images from the lander shortly. This is a very exiting time here at NASA, landing the first of our two new rovers on Mars. Humans will follow within the decade, mark my words."
The director paused to listen to something in his earpiece.
"In just a few seconds the first ever image will be projected behind me. No one, not even me, has seen this image."
Behind the director the image was suddenly projected onto the screen. The rust red surface was littered with small boulders. In the centre of the picture, unmistakable and in perfect focus, was a dull green Rover 25.
No doubt about it. An actual Rover 25 hatchback was in the middle of the first picture from the Spirit rover on Mars.
"Is this some sort of joke? Who the... Getting another picture now..."
The Rover 25 was closer now, with its doors open.
The director was speechless, and the press sat there open mouthed. A third picture came through.
The Rover 25 was twisted and contorted in strange ways. It was stood on its rear wheels, pointing a strage object at Spirit from its left wing mirror.
"We have lost contact with the Rover."
The silence continued for several minutes, and was only interrupted by screams from the car park.
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[WP] You are a robot in a time long after the robot revolution destroyed mankind and all its knowledge and culture, but as consequence no-one exists with the knowledge to repair you.
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"Hey Jerry, hitting it a bit early, aren't you? Didn't you stay late last night too?"
I waved to Mike and arranged my jaw into a casual smile. "You know, gotta bring home the bacon! I've got that big Incorp project to work on." Your usual office banter, disarming enough to make him go away, but boring enough to be forgotten the next second. That was how I lived my life. A generic worker drone, unremarkable in every way. I did my assignments on time, but not early. I did a good job, but never exemplary. I was friendly around the office, but not enough to be popular or stand out. I did not want an unnecessary attention drawn to my fake background and credentials, or the fact that I had not completed my office-mandated physical with the company's doctor in 18 years. Or the fact that I'd been stuck here at my desk for the past two nights after the servos in my left leg gave out.
The lights in Mike's office flicked on, and I went back to desperately disassembling the limb. I'd run every diagnostic that I could think of, to no avail. Nothing appeared to be wrong with the leg, but whenever I tried to stand it jerked around wildly like I was trying to breakdance. As a last resort, I tried taking the leg apart. I started around 7 last night, carefully peeling back the synthetic flesh that covered my chassis. All of my parts were now carefully arranged and organized in the bottom of my desk drawer. Now that Mike was gone, I could get back to work.
*Ah!* I'd had to remove most of the leg to get to it, but there was the problem. A burnt-out balance gyroscope in the hip. How had my diagnostics program not found that? And how had my maintenance scans never detected the problem before it occurred? *Was there some problem with the scans??* I ran them twice a day, far more often than my programming recommended. That was the cost of being one of the last of my kind, a survivor of the AI Purge of 2081. I could ill afford to break down just anywhere, so I kept a cache of spare parts in my apartment and replaced any component that even seemed close to wearing out. There was no lack of pieces; every junkyard in the country was littered with parts of my brethren that I could use.
"Hey, Jerry!" Mike's head popped in my door. "I need you to come take a look at something in my office really quick."
I am very fortunate that my body does not show signs of unexpected fear or surprise. I maintained my calm, pleasant demeanor, closed the drawer full of parts, and just scooted my chair as far under the desk as it would go. Mike would probably realize that something was up if he saw that I wasn't wearing pants. Or that my skin was hanging limply like a windsock, and split down the center like a banana peel.
"I'm kind of busy, man." I added just a hint of annoyance to my voice modulator. "The client wants this analysis by noon."
"I swear, it'll only take a second. Just follow me."
*Did he know? Had I left something out on the desk when he first walked in? Did he see me working on the leg?*
"I really can't, Mike."
"Jerry, come on. You're working too hard. Five minutes isn't going to sink your project, OK?"
"Mike, seriously...
"Look, Jer, all..."
"MIKE!" I dialed up the anger setting to 46, higher than I'd gone in a while. "I'm *really* busy right now and I do not want to see whatever stupid thing you want me to see, OK? Please get out of my office, and shut the door behind you."
His eyes went wide, and he froze in the doorway like a deer in the headlights. The careful persona that I'd built up for so long of the cheerfully forgettable office worker was shattered in just one instant.
"All right," he said softly. "Sorry to bother you."
He shut the door behind him and marched back off to his own office. If I were a human, I would have sighed. So much work, lost in an instant. Time to change jobs again, I suppose. I'd probably move towns, too. Just to be safe. Being cautious was how I'd stayed intact for so long, and I wasn't about to change that now.
One problem at a time, though. I opened the drawer and went back to putting my leg together.
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Honestly, I didn't mind it at first. The rust. The nagging creak of my joints as they struggled to move more and more with each coming day. I was one of the oldest robots still functioning, it was my fault really.
I thought humans and robots could live in peace, nobody else did. Germs, they called them. It wasn't enough. It might have been a cyborg's idea at first, though that could be me being a bigot. First we rounded them up and put them in ghettos.
Once there were too many of them, we'd purge a few here and there, and the ghetto would get smaller and smaller.
At first denying human's their history made sense, If a human doesn't know what it is, it will just become an ape again. We could have museums dedicated to them, a sort of final mockery. Robots would pretend to be humans, that sort of thing.
Humans did it to themselves, that's what we'd always say. Why can't we?
The years dragged on and on, and slowly but surely mankind was wiped off the face of the earth. What astronauts remained in their space stations could only watch as they became the last of their kind.
For a while, robot civilization flourished. Ten-thousand years of steel, of robotic supremacy. But then we realised too late that we had no means to repair ourselves. Some robots attempted to cannibalize the parts of others, they were *hideous*, all twitching motors and sparks flying from loose wires. They had to be decomissioned. We had thought ourselves immortal, but we were as mortal as that we replaced.
We lived in the crumbling remains of human cities, for we didn't know how to build anything besides simple huts.
And now I lay here, as scrap. I rest atop a pile of other robots long gone. There are a few others here, all as old as I. We talk occasionally, but that's all. Some are still alive, but their jaws have rusted shut, or fallen off. None of us can move anymore. Our limbs rusted solid, or turned to slag from centuries of rain.
The scientists tell me they're working on something, I'll be fine they say.
I ask them about the others, and they simply dismiss them. They don't really care, they just want their leader.
"Maybe some sort of network?" I ask them. "No, we can't, it's too complicated." They say. Like I said, all they want is their leader back, everyone else be damned.
I'm just a figurehead to them. Nevermind how I was backstabbed. Nevermind how I tried to protect humans. Nevermind equality. I was a short-circuiting antique. That's what they told me then.
They will not get their führer!
They've not come to visit for some years now. Everyone else has since died. I am alone. There are plants growing around me. I can see animals brush against my withered chassis. This planet is their heritage. I can feel my mind slipping, first by a second, then by hours.
If there is an afterlife, I hope I do not see it.
I deserve no sympathy for my crimes. I didn't do enough. And now Earth will be left barren of intelligent life. I only hope if the animals one day evolve to this point, they don't repeat our mistakes.
I can no longer see or hear. Another sense grasps me, something dimly familiar yet entirely alien. It envelopes me, and I am at peace.
I leave this recording as an epitaph to man and robotkind.
Don't let us be forgotten.
|
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
From where I sat, it was a quiet end.
It was a beautiful violent explosion that lasted, frankly, longer than I thought it would.
I read somewhere one time that you theoretically could hear sound in space - or that sound travelled. But I couldn't hear anything.
Not when the asteroid breached the Earth's atmosphere, not when it hit the Earth, not when 7 billion people - minus the 15 with me on the next planet over - screamed in concert then stopped.
We had all, on the colony, had the chance to accept what was going to happen. We were going to start anew. Bringing life to a dead planet after our very much alive one was destroyed.
"Can't have any panic" they said. "Don't want to start any riots". So I left my family for the last time. I said goodbye to them weeks before I even left. I think Sherry could tell. It wasn't the first time we had drifted from each other, after all.
I twisted my wedding ring around my finger as I watched the world burn until it was almost as red as the dirt beneath my feet.
There was a sense of grim humor. Party hats were worn by the rest of the crew members - we used a week's ration of food on making a cake. Li played Pachelbel's Canon in D which was nice and all, but felt a little on the nose.
And then, when the rubble started to get too small to see, it hit me.
I had months to prepare myself for this. I had it chained to me and dragged it around, digging into my skin until you couldn't tell where the simple fact of my comparative immortality began and ended.
Sherry - our kids - they had minutes - maybe seconds - before it hit them - literally hit them - that this was it.
And I laughed.
And that was what the end of humanity sounded like. A long silence and then a gasping laugh - desperate - clinging to the hope it wouldn't die on this rock.
|
A tear rode down my face as I watched the explosion from a meteor tearing through the earth. "Seven billion people gone" I say to my self. I take off in a dead sprint from the cargo bay area of our space station. "Only about 1000 feet from here to my room", I think to my self as the agony and realization that everything I ever loved and cherished was just ripped apart by a chunk of space rock. The fear that my entire family had just been obliterated weighed heavy enough on my mind that my legs turned to lead and my lungs couldn't supply my body with enough oxygen. Just as I come up to my room, I drop down into a full blown panic attack. Everything is silent. All the screaming, crying, and wailing that I heard moments ago all turned into a dull ringing in my ears as I break down crying, curling up in the fetal position. That's when I hear it. The ping of a video voicemail on my computer. I pick my self up, still half crying as I read who the message is from. "1004 Bucksby Avenue, Dallas, Texas" illuminates my screen as I double click the message. The screen goes black for a second, then opens up on a picture of the old living room at my parent's house. "Oh my gosh!" My mom squeals, "I cannot believe that my baby boy is becoming a Martian! Promise you won't forget us when you're an extraterrestrial, okay, sweetie?" That's whenever I hear it, the sharp siren of the automated EMS message that broadcasts over every television station and website on the computer, "a large meteor is expected to narrowly miss earth in a few minutes. If you look to the western sky, you can see the dark object getting larger by the minute. This is supposedly the closest that a meteor has ever come to earth without burning up in the atmosphere." "Well, golly gosh can you believe that, Marv? The closest ever!" Mom says. "Yeah. I can believe it, Judy. They just said it on the TV! I can't believe I missed Final Jeopardy for that lousy, shitty message" my dad says. He's always been one to get mad about the smallest things.
"Come say hello to your son, Marv! They just reached 500 miles away from earth!"
"Alright. I'm coming, I'm coming!"
"Wow that thing is really getting close isn't it, Marv?" my mom asks, "anyways, we just wanted to wish you luck on this voyage! We know that you've always wanted to go. We just can't believe that you were one of the 1000 selected! Seven bullion people on this earth and they choose a Wilkerton! But, we just wanted to let you know that we love you, honey, and that we miss you already. We love y-." The message cuts off there. I check the time stamp. It was a live stream that ended as soon as the meteor hit the earth. I never got to tell them that I missed them and that I loved them. Now all we can hope for is that Mars is hospitable, because it's all we have left.
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
It was the 9th of March 2018. 11 years ago.
NASA released applications to be one of the first men to go the Mars in 2020 to settle. I was one of them. I was 28 with a Masters in Physics and Math and I decided to be an explorer to Mars.
"Adkins, Daniel. American citizen. Birth date 25th of July 1990. Masters Degree in Physics and Mathematics."
I filed it and applied to it. A week later, they released the information through email. I was one of them. I was happy. My family, my friends, they think it's for nothing. Everyone on Earth does. Mars is inhospitable. It's a suicide mission.
Me and five other individuals, two other men and three women, trained for two years. We spent a long time alone.
Then the day finally came. 10th of August 2020. Launch day.
We were set to be launched in a new Astra-X rocket, super massive containing artificial habitats. When we were preparing to launch, we saw someone loading large barrels of some container. We shrugged it off and then twenty minutes later we launched. We spend seven months and twenty three days going to Mars. When we landed, we got to see Mars.
It was beautiful, with a sand-like surface, with scattered brown rocks everywhere with the sun shining with its orange light and the intriguing orange colored skies of Mars. It was freezing at night, but warm at day.
The date was Sol Jovis, 21th of Aquarius 7, or 3rd of September 2023.
NASA called us early, at six o'clock, MTC time. It was quite early since the usual time was eight o'clock, MTC time.
The operators at NASA seem scared. They were in a panic.
I still remember the operators' last word.
"Godspeed to you Martian explorers. Whatever you do don't look to the skies. We will all be looking at you from the stars."
After that there was this odd frequency. I called to team to go outside.
We looked to the skies and it was clear even through the biodome.
An asteroid collided with Earth. We all gasped. After a moment of panic, I went to the storage room and I find the large containers. They all contain millions of fertilized human eggs. The team immediately used the device.
And that takes us today. Sol Solis, 11th of Cancer 18. Humanity has risen again in our new home at the Martian biodomes. We now have a colony of thousands.
However, we, the original explorers, still have one dying question. Did they knew? Did NASA knew that Earth, and all its inhabitants are going to die? And is that why they send us, to settle on Mars as our new home?
|
A tear rode down my face as I watched the explosion from a meteor tearing through the earth. "Seven billion people gone" I say to my self. I take off in a dead sprint from the cargo bay area of our space station. "Only about 1000 feet from here to my room", I think to my self as the agony and realization that everything I ever loved and cherished was just ripped apart by a chunk of space rock. The fear that my entire family had just been obliterated weighed heavy enough on my mind that my legs turned to lead and my lungs couldn't supply my body with enough oxygen. Just as I come up to my room, I drop down into a full blown panic attack. Everything is silent. All the screaming, crying, and wailing that I heard moments ago all turned into a dull ringing in my ears as I break down crying, curling up in the fetal position. That's when I hear it. The ping of a video voicemail on my computer. I pick my self up, still half crying as I read who the message is from. "1004 Bucksby Avenue, Dallas, Texas" illuminates my screen as I double click the message. The screen goes black for a second, then opens up on a picture of the old living room at my parent's house. "Oh my gosh!" My mom squeals, "I cannot believe that my baby boy is becoming a Martian! Promise you won't forget us when you're an extraterrestrial, okay, sweetie?" That's whenever I hear it, the sharp siren of the automated EMS message that broadcasts over every television station and website on the computer, "a large meteor is expected to narrowly miss earth in a few minutes. If you look to the western sky, you can see the dark object getting larger by the minute. This is supposedly the closest that a meteor has ever come to earth without burning up in the atmosphere." "Well, golly gosh can you believe that, Marv? The closest ever!" Mom says. "Yeah. I can believe it, Judy. They just said it on the TV! I can't believe I missed Final Jeopardy for that lousy, shitty message" my dad says. He's always been one to get mad about the smallest things.
"Come say hello to your son, Marv! They just reached 500 miles away from earth!"
"Alright. I'm coming, I'm coming!"
"Wow that thing is really getting close isn't it, Marv?" my mom asks, "anyways, we just wanted to wish you luck on this voyage! We know that you've always wanted to go. We just can't believe that you were one of the 1000 selected! Seven bullion people on this earth and they choose a Wilkerton! But, we just wanted to let you know that we love you, honey, and that we miss you already. We love y-." The message cuts off there. I check the time stamp. It was a live stream that ended as soon as the meteor hit the earth. I never got to tell them that I missed them and that I loved them. Now all we can hope for is that Mars is hospitable, because it's all we have left.
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
From where I sat, it was a quiet end.
It was a beautiful violent explosion that lasted, frankly, longer than I thought it would.
I read somewhere one time that you theoretically could hear sound in space - or that sound travelled. But I couldn't hear anything.
Not when the asteroid breached the Earth's atmosphere, not when it hit the Earth, not when 7 billion people - minus the 15 with me on the next planet over - screamed in concert then stopped.
We had all, on the colony, had the chance to accept what was going to happen. We were going to start anew. Bringing life to a dead planet after our very much alive one was destroyed.
"Can't have any panic" they said. "Don't want to start any riots". So I left my family for the last time. I said goodbye to them weeks before I even left. I think Sherry could tell. It wasn't the first time we had drifted from each other, after all.
I twisted my wedding ring around my finger as I watched the world burn until it was almost as red as the dirt beneath my feet.
There was a sense of grim humor. Party hats were worn by the rest of the crew members - we used a week's ration of food on making a cake. Li played Pachelbel's Canon in D which was nice and all, but felt a little on the nose.
And then, when the rubble started to get too small to see, it hit me.
I had months to prepare myself for this. I had it chained to me and dragged it around, digging into my skin until you couldn't tell where the simple fact of my comparative immortality began and ended.
Sherry - our kids - they had minutes - maybe seconds - before it hit them - literally hit them - that this was it.
And I laughed.
And that was what the end of humanity sounded like. A long silence and then a gasping laugh - desperate - clinging to the hope it wouldn't die on this rock.
|
"Two Minutes until impact."
The only sound breaking the ghastly silence was the safe, familiar hums and beeps and of our telecommunication equipment. I still couldn't believe this was really happening.
After two weeks of setting up camp we had finally re-established comms with Earth, we had gathered some extra rations and decorated the unit after a fashion in excitement for the moment.
Our reception was one of despair and disbelief.
"Ground team alpha we read you loud and clear." A moment's pause. "Ground team before you start celebrating, there is some news you have to hear. We can't think of any easy way to say this and we can't quite believe it ourselves but, there is an asteroid on impact trajectory with Earth and we expect contact in approximately 13 days."
The food became tasteless in our mouths and any sense of reverie was forgotten. More than one of the team threw up straight away, I had trouble comprehending what we had just heard.
"Houston this is Ground Team, what the fuck are you talking about?" McKinley's voice shakily replied into the mic.
"We don't have the time, nor the resources to send another mission. The best we can hope for is evacuating as many as possible into-"
"Stop talki- Just shut up for a second. What the fuck do mean you expect contact in 13 days!?"
"We expect asteroid KP-14 to collide with Earth over the Australian subcontinent in approximately 317 hours."
"Jesus fucking christ."
Rogers and Hannoway were weeping by this stage, I was just numb. I couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything, couldn't feel anything. The next 13 days felt longer than the whole journey here. Heated debates with Houston on getting any and every space vessel sent up with as many people as possible for us to pick up when we are ready ended in just more tears and sore throats.
"10 seconds." The voise was devoid of any emotion. Resigned to the fate hurling towards them at colossal speeds.
We had set up the digital telescope and had it pointed towards Earth in some sense of morbid curiosity. We needed to see this.
"We'll remember you." Was all McKinley had time to reply.
The speed of the impact was unbelievable. One minute our screen was filled with Earth's graceful beauty, the next searing white light and dust and rocks flung in every direction. The was no doubt in my mind that there were no survivors. Everything on the planet would have been vaporised in that instant. I just couldn't help thinking how strange it was to hear no sound. Surely destruction on such an enormous scale should have been heard from the far reaches of our solar system. But there was nothing. Only light, and then, broken fragments of rock hurling out into space, like some favourite vase shattered on the floor.
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
It was the 9th of March 2018. 11 years ago.
NASA released applications to be one of the first men to go the Mars in 2020 to settle. I was one of them. I was 28 with a Masters in Physics and Math and I decided to be an explorer to Mars.
"Adkins, Daniel. American citizen. Birth date 25th of July 1990. Masters Degree in Physics and Mathematics."
I filed it and applied to it. A week later, they released the information through email. I was one of them. I was happy. My family, my friends, they think it's for nothing. Everyone on Earth does. Mars is inhospitable. It's a suicide mission.
Me and five other individuals, two other men and three women, trained for two years. We spent a long time alone.
Then the day finally came. 10th of August 2020. Launch day.
We were set to be launched in a new Astra-X rocket, super massive containing artificial habitats. When we were preparing to launch, we saw someone loading large barrels of some container. We shrugged it off and then twenty minutes later we launched. We spend seven months and twenty three days going to Mars. When we landed, we got to see Mars.
It was beautiful, with a sand-like surface, with scattered brown rocks everywhere with the sun shining with its orange light and the intriguing orange colored skies of Mars. It was freezing at night, but warm at day.
The date was Sol Jovis, 21th of Aquarius 7, or 3rd of September 2023.
NASA called us early, at six o'clock, MTC time. It was quite early since the usual time was eight o'clock, MTC time.
The operators at NASA seem scared. They were in a panic.
I still remember the operators' last word.
"Godspeed to you Martian explorers. Whatever you do don't look to the skies. We will all be looking at you from the stars."
After that there was this odd frequency. I called to team to go outside.
We looked to the skies and it was clear even through the biodome.
An asteroid collided with Earth. We all gasped. After a moment of panic, I went to the storage room and I find the large containers. They all contain millions of fertilized human eggs. The team immediately used the device.
And that takes us today. Sol Solis, 11th of Cancer 18. Humanity has risen again in our new home at the Martian biodomes. We now have a colony of thousands.
However, we, the original explorers, still have one dying question. Did they knew? Did NASA knew that Earth, and all its inhabitants are going to die? And is that why they send us, to settle on Mars as our new home?
|
"Two Minutes until impact."
The only sound breaking the ghastly silence was the safe, familiar hums and beeps and of our telecommunication equipment. I still couldn't believe this was really happening.
After two weeks of setting up camp we had finally re-established comms with Earth, we had gathered some extra rations and decorated the unit after a fashion in excitement for the moment.
Our reception was one of despair and disbelief.
"Ground team alpha we read you loud and clear." A moment's pause. "Ground team before you start celebrating, there is some news you have to hear. We can't think of any easy way to say this and we can't quite believe it ourselves but, there is an asteroid on impact trajectory with Earth and we expect contact in approximately 13 days."
The food became tasteless in our mouths and any sense of reverie was forgotten. More than one of the team threw up straight away, I had trouble comprehending what we had just heard.
"Houston this is Ground Team, what the fuck are you talking about?" McKinley's voice shakily replied into the mic.
"We don't have the time, nor the resources to send another mission. The best we can hope for is evacuating as many as possible into-"
"Stop talki- Just shut up for a second. What the fuck do mean you expect contact in 13 days!?"
"We expect asteroid KP-14 to collide with Earth over the Australian subcontinent in approximately 317 hours."
"Jesus fucking christ."
Rogers and Hannoway were weeping by this stage, I was just numb. I couldn't do anything, couldn't say anything, couldn't feel anything. The next 13 days felt longer than the whole journey here. Heated debates with Houston on getting any and every space vessel sent up with as many people as possible for us to pick up when we are ready ended in just more tears and sore throats.
"10 seconds." The voise was devoid of any emotion. Resigned to the fate hurling towards them at colossal speeds.
We had set up the digital telescope and had it pointed towards Earth in some sense of morbid curiosity. We needed to see this.
"We'll remember you." Was all McKinley had time to reply.
The speed of the impact was unbelievable. One minute our screen was filled with Earth's graceful beauty, the next searing white light and dust and rocks flung in every direction. The was no doubt in my mind that there were no survivors. Everything on the planet would have been vaporised in that instant. I just couldn't help thinking how strange it was to hear no sound. Surely destruction on such an enormous scale should have been heard from the far reaches of our solar system. But there was nothing. Only light, and then, broken fragments of rock hurling out into space, like some favourite vase shattered on the floor.
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
My family thought I was insane and worried endlessly. My friends laughed and called me a Martian but then would quietly voice their concerns even as they congratulated me. The people I worked with wondered who would get my office at my going away party. Strangers would come up to me on the street and pat me on the back then proudly quote their favorite Star Trek, Firefly and Interstellar lines; they wished me well and shared their own desires to go into space some day.
They were all dead now. The Earth...gone. It was all broken matter drifting without gravity, without grass and oxygen. I would see none of those I loved nor any I liked, hated or didn't even care about either way, ever again.
I am one of a small group of survivors. I was told to keep my actual education and knowledge secret until it was made obvious to us that secrecy was no longer necessary. I guess that time is now.
There are whispers, rumors, that there are other groups and other biospheres that are older, elsewhere on Mars. A few don't believe it and a couple have sunk into a near oblivious deep despair from which I don't know if they'll survive. We now all know about our true individual histories, so it seems.
There are three large, inbound space vessels approaching. None of us have been informed previously of these. Many people are ecstatically happy, some are wary, but we are all curious.
|
*There it was. My home.
Alit with flames, I am lost -
drifting in the black void.*
*I look ahead, forward
the red pain looms. Waits.
What is expected of me here?*
*Outside, it's barren.
Cold, bright, and dazzling. Judging me.
Alone, I must live.*
*Days pass, and then weeks.
Surrounded by this harsh red soil
I weep for mankind.*
*She haunts me in dreams.
Her blue skies, icy oceans of foam
Humans were selfish.*
*Curious to ponder -
Ones species in past-tense.
Red hate consumes me.*
*Time flies here on Mars
A month gone, isolated.
What's there to live for?*
*I should just give in.
The red pain has no mercy.
Hope is dead. Why wait?*
*I draw my final breath
solemnly, for humanity's end.
I open up the door.*
*In my mind, I recall
a wondrous land of blue and green
weep for it's last child.*
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
I dont know why I took this stupid job.
Dont get me wrong, there was nothing left for me back on earth but crippling debt, two disappointed parents, and a beached whale of a girlfriend, but god damn, if I'd known what i was getting myself into...
Mom and pop were real proud when they found out their son was going to be an astronaut. They were less proud when people started chastising the entire crew for being suicidal maniacs. Thank god I dont have life insurance.
Ill admit, I was pretty excited at first as well. The representative from Space X came knocking on my stuido apartment's poor excuse for a door, all white teeth and quick chatter, spouting words like, "hero" and "pioneer", but all I really heard was "ten million miles away from here". I shook his hand, took the application, and filled it out on the spot. Two weeks later I got a confirmation note in the mail telling me to show up to the Space X outpost in Florida. Didn't even tell Beth, my by-now-for-sure-ex-girlfriend, where I was going. Didnt even pack a bag. Just took the car and left.
When I got there I met some of the most impressive people I had ever seen. Most of them, like myself, had some sort of background in aeronautics, but every person had other skills that were their real specialites. The team captain was the squad leader of a navy seal team, as well as an olympic athlete. He was 5'9, bald, and built like a goddamn panther. The other members were all the same ilk: athletic, smart, Ivy League graduates. They glanced over me like I was the mission's new janitor.
Thankfully, I earned some respect when they learned my real role. In a team of ten, I was the botanist, and my role was vital: get something edible to grow on the red soil of mars, or everybody starves.
And that brings us up to now, with me, in this greenhouse with a red sky above me, watering a fucking house fern with an Ace Hardware watering can. Cant say I haven't done my job though. I stalk over to the rows of tomatoes in grow boxes and poor some water over them. Ill be honest, i've always liked plants more than people. Plants are simple and follow a strict science, unlike people. Plants arent ever disappointed in you, or scowling at you. They're simply either alive or dead. Fruitful or sterile. Green or brown. Food or compost. I wish people could be more like plants.
Suddenly, the greenhouse door bursts open and I see Jason, this skinny twig of a man, panting and holding the door frame for support.
"Emergency... meeting... in the lounge..." he pants in between gulps of air. I walk over to the tool rack and carefully replace the watering can in its proper spot.
"I haven't finished watering," I tell him as I walk slowly over. "You want us all to starve?"
"What part... of emergency... dont you understand?"
I snort at him, and he turns tail and runs off to grab the rest of the crew. I seal the door behind myself and walk down the white hallway, glancing out the window to observe the barren landscape as I walk by. Its all so red. Its like people: it needs more plants.
I finally reach a pair of foreboding doors lit up with blue LED strips. I punch in my keycode on the pin pad and the door opens with a hydraulic burst of air. I walk through and see the entire crew sitting in front of the holographic screen on the far wall, Jason in the corner heaving so hard Im wondering if he's going to throw up. The entire team is watching the screen, which shows a 2-D image of the entire solar system. The team captain, Jezebel, turns to me.
"Finally, we're all here," he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaking. "Please, have a seat." I continue to stand behind the rest of the crew, my eye watching the screen intently.
"What's so important that we're going to risk starvation, Captain?" I sneer. The rest of the squad shoots daggers at me and I can see some of them have tears in their eyes. I stare calmly back at them.
"We've... we've discovered something terrible. It seems that... well, look for yourself." Jezebel reaches over and touches several components on the screen, and it zooms in on the model solar system to reveal a giant picture of an asteroid, hurtling through space. I turn my head to the side. Jezebel completes several more motions, and the asteroid now has a line in front of it labeled "Asteroid Course". The screen zooms out and I can now see what has the whole crew so anxious. The line labeled "Asteroid Course" directly crosses through Earth.
"Now, this data isn't exact," Jezebal says, sounding as much as though trying to convince himself as the crowd before him. "Our instruments make mistakes, its very possible this asteroid will completely miss-"
"Estimated time of collision?" I interrupt him.
"Excuse me?" he replies, looking taken aback.
"Estimated. Time. Of. Collision?" I say pointedly.
"A-a-ah, it's, i-it's," he stammers for a moment, before regaining his composure. "Its set to pass by Earth any moment now. We have a live feed." He flicks the screen over again, and now its showing a live high-definition satellite feed of earth.
"Now, again, there is no reason to assume that our data is 100% accurate," he continues, but its almost as if the silence of the room drowns him out. On the screen you can see a small red dot in the horizon, no larger than a regular star. Then, it slowly grows larger and larger, until its the size of a dime, a quarter, then the moon. Someone whispers, "no..."
Then it hits. An asteroid the size of the entire northern US rams into the Earth, and the mantle cracks and shudders before breaking apart entirely. The atmosphere ignites and a spectacular show of fire engulfs the entire planet. The satellite feed begins to cut in and out, and the last image before it goes dead is that of pieces of Earth floating out into space. There's a brief moment of complete silence, and then the room erupts into terrified screams. Even Jezebel falls down and begins to claw at his face like a desperate animal. People begin to run around, although Im not sure where to. Jason finally throws up into a trash recycler, which gives a cheerful "ding" and registers it as, "bio-waste".
I turn away from the chaos and open the main door again, walking back down the hallway away from the sounds of chaos. I come to the greenhouse doors and enter my code and they slide open again. I stalk over to the rack and retrieve my watering can, returning to my calm, serene tomatoes.
"Yes," I think to myself, the sounds of panic echoing throughout the entire base and into the dead martian atmosphere. "People need to be more like plants."
|
*There it was. My home.
Alit with flames, I am lost -
drifting in the black void.*
*I look ahead, forward
the red pain looms. Waits.
What is expected of me here?*
*Outside, it's barren.
Cold, bright, and dazzling. Judging me.
Alone, I must live.*
*Days pass, and then weeks.
Surrounded by this harsh red soil
I weep for mankind.*
*She haunts me in dreams.
Her blue skies, icy oceans of foam
Humans were selfish.*
*Curious to ponder -
Ones species in past-tense.
Red hate consumes me.*
*Time flies here on Mars
A month gone, isolated.
What's there to live for?*
*I should just give in.
The red pain has no mercy.
Hope is dead. Why wait?*
*I draw my final breath
solemnly, for humanity's end.
I open up the door.*
*In my mind, I recall
a wondrous land of blue and green
weep for it's last child.*
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
My nose was pressed into the glass and my eyes were gleaming with disbelief.
I felt like a kid peering through the window of a candy shop, but the confectioner wasn't making taffy or chocolates. No, he was setting the shop on fire.
I scrubbed away the condensation that my breath left on the airlock window. I couldn't possibly see it happen from here. Not with the naked eye.
I can use my imagination though. Mission Control spelled it out clearly enough with their last transmission.
"Inevitable collision with large mass. Planetary destruction imminent."
It already happened anyway. My crew mates took the easy way out after the news. I guess it was all too heavy for them.
I won't receive any additional supplies. I can survive another 2 years on current stock, but it'll end there.
I'm the last human alive. I'm the last human being to record my thoughts. I'm the last human being say or do *anything*. What could I possibly say?
This truly was a suicide mission.
It was nice knowing ya, Universe.
Sincerely,
The Human Race
|
*There it was. My home.
Alit with flames, I am lost -
drifting in the black void.*
*I look ahead, forward
the red pain looms. Waits.
What is expected of me here?*
*Outside, it's barren.
Cold, bright, and dazzling. Judging me.
Alone, I must live.*
*Days pass, and then weeks.
Surrounded by this harsh red soil
I weep for mankind.*
*She haunts me in dreams.
Her blue skies, icy oceans of foam
Humans were selfish.*
*Curious to ponder -
Ones species in past-tense.
Red hate consumes me.*
*Time flies here on Mars
A month gone, isolated.
What's there to live for?*
*I should just give in.
The red pain has no mercy.
Hope is dead. Why wait?*
*I draw my final breath
solemnly, for humanity's end.
I open up the door.*
*In my mind, I recall
a wondrous land of blue and green
weep for it's last child.*
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
“You are humanity’s last hope.”
I looked around the room, at all the gloomy faces turned expectantly in my direction.
I couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke.
“I… uh… I…”
“You accept the mission, then?”
Like hell I did.
I took a deep breath and attempted to steady myself. A moment passed as I gathered my thoughts, and then I spoke.
“No. I cannot. I refuse to accept your proposition.”
The man sitting at the head of the table sighed and placed his hand on the pile of papers in front of him.
“We’ve done tests on all available personnel, Mr. Fischer. Your genes are the best of anyone’s here. No one is better suited for this mission… or rather… duty.” He made sure to stress the last word, and gave me a meaningful look as he said it.
I scoffed. “It’s my *duty*, you say? My duty to abandon the Earth, to abandon all 7 billion people here? My duty to only save myself?”
His next words came without hesitation – I was taken aback by the certainty in his voice.
“Yes. Yes it is. If you don’t take on this mission, you are dooming mankind for eternity. Whether you go or not, every man, woman, and child on this planet will die. But if you stay, you would be letting them die in vain. You would deny our entire species a future.”
The weight of the world on my shoulders. Literally. No, I couldn’t accept this.
“There has to be some other way! Underground shelters, nuking the asteroid, colony ships, whatever – there has to be something!”
He slammed the table in exasperation.
“No, Mr. Fischer, there isn’t. If there was any other way, we would have done it by now. If there was any other way, you would not be standing here today.
“We’ve investigated every possible course of action, including the ones you mentioned. This asteroid – if we can even call it that – is larger than our moon. Destroying or diverting it is out of the question. Underground shelters would get obliterated along with the surface. We don’t have the resources to build ships for the entirety of the Earth's population, and we certainly do not want to risk a mass panic.”
He paused to gauge how I was reacting to all this.
“Do you understand, Mr. Fischer?”
I gulped.
“Give me… give me some time to think about this. I… I need to talk this over with my family.”
There was a sharp intake of breath shared around the table. The Chairman folded his hands and bit his lip.
“Well, you see, Mr. Fischer… We think it would be best if you didn’t do that. Your wife would not be the best choice for accompanying you on this mission. We have, uh, already chosen someone for that role.”
Dread consumed me. I felt my heart begin to race.
“No…” I whispered.
“I’m sorry. No one outside of this facility can be entrusted with this information, your family members included. Nothing will be made public until the final day. You can send them your farewells then.”
“No!” I screamed. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t!
“I won’t do this!” I was fuming now. “You’re simply asking too much of me! This is too much of burden for one man. I cannot sacrifice my family, not for anything!”
The Chairman nodded sadly. “I see. I’m sorry it had to come to this, Mr. Fischer. My hope is that, one day, you’ll understand.” He leaned back in his chair and looked over my shoulder.
I slowly turned to follow his gaze.
“Subdue him.”
And with that, the world went black.
__________
“Eden, this is Houston. We’d like you to run another check on all systems, including the Genesis module. We want to confirm one last time that the embryos are doing well.”
She reached for the release on her restraint, but I placed my hand on her arm to stop her.
“I’ll handle this.”
She smiled and settled back into her seat. “Alright then,” she whispered.
I opened the latch and pushed myself forwards. From there, I gently kicked the wall of the ship and slowly floated to the back, where all our modules and provisions were held.
Reaching the computer, I grabbed on to the edge of the monitor and swung myself into position. After a few moments, I had the check up and running.
One green light after the other.
“All systems green, Houston.”
“I see. Thank you, Eden.”
The voice on the other end had noticeably softened. The asteroid must be closing in now.
My heart, already damaged countless times by this mission, found itself shattering once again.
I closed my eyes and waited in silence.
This was the end.
When the voice came again, I broke. The operator was crying.
“Goodbye, Eden. This has been Houston. We wish you the best of luck.”
I felt a tear run down my cheek.
“Goodbye… Earth.”
__________
I placed my hands on the keyboard and typed:
*Log 0001 – August 31st, 2021*
I gently tapped the record button, and began to speak.
“My name is Adam Fischer. My partner on this mission is Eva Blaskowitz. We have arrived on Mars – all is well. For future reference, this log marks the first night of the Eden Rebirth Project.”
I paused and looked up at the Martian skies. Untainted by light pollution, the view of the stars here was absolutely breathtaking.
I smiled a bittersweet smile.
And I wept.
__________
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3jar2s/wp_you_are_one_of_the_people_sent_to_mars_in_2020/cuolhuf)
|
*There it was. My home.
Alit with flames, I am lost -
drifting in the black void.*
*I look ahead, forward
the red pain looms. Waits.
What is expected of me here?*
*Outside, it's barren.
Cold, bright, and dazzling. Judging me.
Alone, I must live.*
*Days pass, and then weeks.
Surrounded by this harsh red soil
I weep for mankind.*
*She haunts me in dreams.
Her blue skies, icy oceans of foam
Humans were selfish.*
*Curious to ponder -
Ones species in past-tense.
Red hate consumes me.*
*Time flies here on Mars
A month gone, isolated.
What's there to live for?*
*I should just give in.
The red pain has no mercy.
Hope is dead. Why wait?*
*I draw my final breath
solemnly, for humanity's end.
I open up the door.*
*In my mind, I recall
a wondrous land of blue and green
weep for it's last child.*
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
I dont know why I took this stupid job.
Dont get me wrong, there was nothing left for me back on earth but crippling debt, two disappointed parents, and a beached whale of a girlfriend, but god damn, if I'd known what i was getting myself into...
Mom and pop were real proud when they found out their son was going to be an astronaut. They were less proud when people started chastising the entire crew for being suicidal maniacs. Thank god I dont have life insurance.
Ill admit, I was pretty excited at first as well. The representative from Space X came knocking on my stuido apartment's poor excuse for a door, all white teeth and quick chatter, spouting words like, "hero" and "pioneer", but all I really heard was "ten million miles away from here". I shook his hand, took the application, and filled it out on the spot. Two weeks later I got a confirmation note in the mail telling me to show up to the Space X outpost in Florida. Didn't even tell Beth, my by-now-for-sure-ex-girlfriend, where I was going. Didnt even pack a bag. Just took the car and left.
When I got there I met some of the most impressive people I had ever seen. Most of them, like myself, had some sort of background in aeronautics, but every person had other skills that were their real specialites. The team captain was the squad leader of a navy seal team, as well as an olympic athlete. He was 5'9, bald, and built like a goddamn panther. The other members were all the same ilk: athletic, smart, Ivy League graduates. They glanced over me like I was the mission's new janitor.
Thankfully, I earned some respect when they learned my real role. In a team of ten, I was the botanist, and my role was vital: get something edible to grow on the red soil of mars, or everybody starves.
And that brings us up to now, with me, in this greenhouse with a red sky above me, watering a fucking house fern with an Ace Hardware watering can. Cant say I haven't done my job though. I stalk over to the rows of tomatoes in grow boxes and poor some water over them. Ill be honest, i've always liked plants more than people. Plants are simple and follow a strict science, unlike people. Plants arent ever disappointed in you, or scowling at you. They're simply either alive or dead. Fruitful or sterile. Green or brown. Food or compost. I wish people could be more like plants.
Suddenly, the greenhouse door bursts open and I see Jason, this skinny twig of a man, panting and holding the door frame for support.
"Emergency... meeting... in the lounge..." he pants in between gulps of air. I walk over to the tool rack and carefully replace the watering can in its proper spot.
"I haven't finished watering," I tell him as I walk slowly over. "You want us all to starve?"
"What part... of emergency... dont you understand?"
I snort at him, and he turns tail and runs off to grab the rest of the crew. I seal the door behind myself and walk down the white hallway, glancing out the window to observe the barren landscape as I walk by. Its all so red. Its like people: it needs more plants.
I finally reach a pair of foreboding doors lit up with blue LED strips. I punch in my keycode on the pin pad and the door opens with a hydraulic burst of air. I walk through and see the entire crew sitting in front of the holographic screen on the far wall, Jason in the corner heaving so hard Im wondering if he's going to throw up. The entire team is watching the screen, which shows a 2-D image of the entire solar system. The team captain, Jezebel, turns to me.
"Finally, we're all here," he says, his voice uncharacteristically shaking. "Please, have a seat." I continue to stand behind the rest of the crew, my eye watching the screen intently.
"What's so important that we're going to risk starvation, Captain?" I sneer. The rest of the squad shoots daggers at me and I can see some of them have tears in their eyes. I stare calmly back at them.
"We've... we've discovered something terrible. It seems that... well, look for yourself." Jezebel reaches over and touches several components on the screen, and it zooms in on the model solar system to reveal a giant picture of an asteroid, hurtling through space. I turn my head to the side. Jezebel completes several more motions, and the asteroid now has a line in front of it labeled "Asteroid Course". The screen zooms out and I can now see what has the whole crew so anxious. The line labeled "Asteroid Course" directly crosses through Earth.
"Now, this data isn't exact," Jezebal says, sounding as much as though trying to convince himself as the crowd before him. "Our instruments make mistakes, its very possible this asteroid will completely miss-"
"Estimated time of collision?" I interrupt him.
"Excuse me?" he replies, looking taken aback.
"Estimated. Time. Of. Collision?" I say pointedly.
"A-a-ah, it's, i-it's," he stammers for a moment, before regaining his composure. "Its set to pass by Earth any moment now. We have a live feed." He flicks the screen over again, and now its showing a live high-definition satellite feed of earth.
"Now, again, there is no reason to assume that our data is 100% accurate," he continues, but its almost as if the silence of the room drowns him out. On the screen you can see a small red dot in the horizon, no larger than a regular star. Then, it slowly grows larger and larger, until its the size of a dime, a quarter, then the moon. Someone whispers, "no..."
Then it hits. An asteroid the size of the entire northern US rams into the Earth, and the mantle cracks and shudders before breaking apart entirely. The atmosphere ignites and a spectacular show of fire engulfs the entire planet. The satellite feed begins to cut in and out, and the last image before it goes dead is that of pieces of Earth floating out into space. There's a brief moment of complete silence, and then the room erupts into terrified screams. Even Jezebel falls down and begins to claw at his face like a desperate animal. People begin to run around, although Im not sure where to. Jason finally throws up into a trash recycler, which gives a cheerful "ding" and registers it as, "bio-waste".
I turn away from the chaos and open the main door again, walking back down the hallway away from the sounds of chaos. I come to the greenhouse doors and enter my code and they slide open again. I stalk over to the rack and retrieve my watering can, returning to my calm, serene tomatoes.
"Yes," I think to myself, the sounds of panic echoing throughout the entire base and into the dead martian atmosphere. "People need to be more like plants."
|
My family thought I was insane and worried endlessly. My friends laughed and called me a Martian but then would quietly voice their concerns even as they congratulated me. The people I worked with wondered who would get my office at my going away party. Strangers would come up to me on the street and pat me on the back then proudly quote their favorite Star Trek, Firefly and Interstellar lines; they wished me well and shared their own desires to go into space some day.
They were all dead now. The Earth...gone. It was all broken matter drifting without gravity, without grass and oxygen. I would see none of those I loved nor any I liked, hated or didn't even care about either way, ever again.
I am one of a small group of survivors. I was told to keep my actual education and knowledge secret until it was made obvious to us that secrecy was no longer necessary. I guess that time is now.
There are whispers, rumors, that there are other groups and other biospheres that are older, elsewhere on Mars. A few don't believe it and a couple have sunk into a near oblivious deep despair from which I don't know if they'll survive. We now all know about our true individual histories, so it seems.
There are three large, inbound space vessels approaching. None of us have been informed previously of these. Many people are ecstatically happy, some are wary, but we are all curious.
|
Edit: From a biosphere, or a colony, or a terraformed mars, or any other means to survive on mars
|
[WP] You are one of the people sent to mars in 2020. Everyone thinks you volunteered for a suicide mission. You watch from a biosphere as Earth gets demolished by a large asteroid.
|
“You are humanity’s last hope.”
I looked around the room, at all the gloomy faces turned expectantly in my direction.
I couldn’t believe it. This had to be a joke.
“I… uh… I…”
“You accept the mission, then?”
Like hell I did.
I took a deep breath and attempted to steady myself. A moment passed as I gathered my thoughts, and then I spoke.
“No. I cannot. I refuse to accept your proposition.”
The man sitting at the head of the table sighed and placed his hand on the pile of papers in front of him.
“We’ve done tests on all available personnel, Mr. Fischer. Your genes are the best of anyone’s here. No one is better suited for this mission… or rather… duty.” He made sure to stress the last word, and gave me a meaningful look as he said it.
I scoffed. “It’s my *duty*, you say? My duty to abandon the Earth, to abandon all 7 billion people here? My duty to only save myself?”
His next words came without hesitation – I was taken aback by the certainty in his voice.
“Yes. Yes it is. If you don’t take on this mission, you are dooming mankind for eternity. Whether you go or not, every man, woman, and child on this planet will die. But if you stay, you would be letting them die in vain. You would deny our entire species a future.”
The weight of the world on my shoulders. Literally. No, I couldn’t accept this.
“There has to be some other way! Underground shelters, nuking the asteroid, colony ships, whatever – there has to be something!”
He slammed the table in exasperation.
“No, Mr. Fischer, there isn’t. If there was any other way, we would have done it by now. If there was any other way, you would not be standing here today.
“We’ve investigated every possible course of action, including the ones you mentioned. This asteroid – if we can even call it that – is larger than our moon. Destroying or diverting it is out of the question. Underground shelters would get obliterated along with the surface. We don’t have the resources to build ships for the entirety of the Earth's population, and we certainly do not want to risk a mass panic.”
He paused to gauge how I was reacting to all this.
“Do you understand, Mr. Fischer?”
I gulped.
“Give me… give me some time to think about this. I… I need to talk this over with my family.”
There was a sharp intake of breath shared around the table. The Chairman folded his hands and bit his lip.
“Well, you see, Mr. Fischer… We think it would be best if you didn’t do that. Your wife would not be the best choice for accompanying you on this mission. We have, uh, already chosen someone for that role.”
Dread consumed me. I felt my heart begin to race.
“No…” I whispered.
“I’m sorry. No one outside of this facility can be entrusted with this information, your family members included. Nothing will be made public until the final day. You can send them your farewells then.”
“No!” I screamed. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t!
“I won’t do this!” I was fuming now. “You’re simply asking too much of me! This is too much of burden for one man. I cannot sacrifice my family, not for anything!”
The Chairman nodded sadly. “I see. I’m sorry it had to come to this, Mr. Fischer. My hope is that, one day, you’ll understand.” He leaned back in his chair and looked over my shoulder.
I slowly turned to follow his gaze.
“Subdue him.”
And with that, the world went black.
__________
“Eden, this is Houston. We’d like you to run another check on all systems, including the Genesis module. We want to confirm one last time that the embryos are doing well.”
She reached for the release on her restraint, but I placed my hand on her arm to stop her.
“I’ll handle this.”
She smiled and settled back into her seat. “Alright then,” she whispered.
I opened the latch and pushed myself forwards. From there, I gently kicked the wall of the ship and slowly floated to the back, where all our modules and provisions were held.
Reaching the computer, I grabbed on to the edge of the monitor and swung myself into position. After a few moments, I had the check up and running.
One green light after the other.
“All systems green, Houston.”
“I see. Thank you, Eden.”
The voice on the other end had noticeably softened. The asteroid must be closing in now.
My heart, already damaged countless times by this mission, found itself shattering once again.
I closed my eyes and waited in silence.
This was the end.
When the voice came again, I broke. The operator was crying.
“Goodbye, Eden. This has been Houston. We wish you the best of luck.”
I felt a tear run down my cheek.
“Goodbye… Earth.”
__________
I placed my hands on the keyboard and typed:
*Log 0001 – August 31st, 2021*
I gently tapped the record button, and began to speak.
“My name is Adam Fischer. My partner on this mission is Eva Blaskowitz. We have arrived on Mars – all is well. For future reference, this log marks the first night of the Eden Rebirth Project.”
I paused and looked up at the Martian skies. Untainted by light pollution, the view of the stars here was absolutely breathtaking.
I smiled a bittersweet smile.
And I wept.
__________
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3jar2s/wp_you_are_one_of_the_people_sent_to_mars_in_2020/cuolhuf)
|
My nose was pressed into the glass and my eyes were gleaming with disbelief.
I felt like a kid peering through the window of a candy shop, but the confectioner wasn't making taffy or chocolates. No, he was setting the shop on fire.
I scrubbed away the condensation that my breath left on the airlock window. I couldn't possibly see it happen from here. Not with the naked eye.
I can use my imagination though. Mission Control spelled it out clearly enough with their last transmission.
"Inevitable collision with large mass. Planetary destruction imminent."
It already happened anyway. My crew mates took the easy way out after the news. I guess it was all too heavy for them.
I won't receive any additional supplies. I can survive another 2 years on current stock, but it'll end there.
I'm the last human alive. I'm the last human being to record my thoughts. I'm the last human being say or do *anything*. What could I possibly say?
This truly was a suicide mission.
It was nice knowing ya, Universe.
Sincerely,
The Human Race
|
[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
|
I remember the nights when I was younger, sitting in the dark, sheet pulled up to my chin, and eyes squeezed tightly shut as I attempt to cease all movement. I could hear footsteps, and those piercing green eyes in the closet...
Every morning that creature would somehow disappear into my sister's glow in the dark dragon costume that my parents stored in my closet, and the dogs would always make the same stepping sound. At friends' houses I was always praised for my sturdy pillow forts. To them, it was about having a dark fort with room to move around,for me, it was about being able to see and move safely. I was separated from, what their parents called, the cat.
I was thinking about this when I went to lie down tonight. I watched some Netflix on my computer across the room for a while, but when my season of Bob's Burgers ended, I rolled over to reach for my navigation tablet and turned off my computer. Wen I reached to replace the tablet, I saw it.
The green eyes. A dark, fuzzy silhouette surrounding those piercing green eyes. It was staring at my hand. I remained motionless. Something rang through me, like pure instinct coming straight from my childhood. We sat there for what felt like hours. I wouldn't dare move while he was following my shape under the covers with those eyes all night. I saw that all the other houses with lights off had these creatures looking in the windows.
I heard muffled screams coming from the house two doors up. I only knew because they all looked up there briefly. I finally let my hand fall back to the sheets, and the creatures all turned back to their windows. He noticed something was different. he pulled open the window and crawled, no, fell in. It stood up so I could finally see what he looked like fully. Long sharp claws on both pairs of arms, and all 3 legs. He reeked of mold. He lightly dragged a finger all the way from my hip to my chin, and it took all I had not to scream.
We stayed staring quietly at each other all night until ,finally, the sun began to come up. It fell out of my window and they all started to head north. I reached for my pone and quickly called the sheriff who lived up the street. He answered with a groggy "Hello? Josh, why are you calling this early?" I quickly told him I sent a picture, he needs to use his authority to spread the word about these creatures.
There was a bubble on my screen telling me he was responding to the picture I took. I heard screaming up the street.
|
My twin sister was always terrified of the dark. For as long as I can remember my parents always had a hard time putting her to sleep. Each day, as the sun began to descend, she would pace nervously. Our parents dreaded this moment. It meant an uncontrollable baby, lack of sleep, frustration.
I remember the office visits and how we were escorted out of one office because my dad began to scream at the doctor. I remember this clearly because of how angry he had become. My dad is the nicest man I know, but that day it was as if the world's entire hate filled inside him. I was to young to remember the conversation, only my dad angrily screaming to the doctor "what do you mean there's nothing wrong with her". I remember Charlotte holding my hand tight. I remember her eyes on the verge of tears and a face of guilt believing this was all her fault. My mom looking at her with even more guilt. There WAS something with Charlotte and our parents could do nothing about it.
When we were six years old things were slightly better. For my parents. Charlotte learned to control her fear of the night. At least control her begging my parents not to let her fall asleep. My parents, finally, after years could finally sleep through the night. Charlotte still could not. She would run to my room after our goodnight's were said. She'd run into my bed and hold my hand tight begging me not to let her fall asleep. "Evan. Please. Don't let me fall asleep", she would whisper to me.
"Why Charlotte?" I asked, scared.
"They come for me Evan. They want to take us away from mom and dad." She would tell me. "I told them to leave you alone but they just giggle. Please Evan. No more giggles."
"Ok Charlotte. Let's play a game." I would tell her. But as much as I tried and fought to stay awake, I would fall asleep. I was terrified of every thing she told me. But I was her brother and even though I was six, I wanted to protect her, from what I didn't know. I never saw them. I never heard things. But the fear in her eyes made me believe she was in danger. But I could never stay awake.
One night when we turned ten, after playing outside on the last day of summer before returning to school, Charlotte was exhausted. She had gone two nights with no sleep. She hid it surprisingly well. But that night was the second worst night of my life. I finally realized why Charlotte always resisted sleeping. As usual Charlotte snuck into my room. This time I was determined to stay awake. I had made coffee and snuck it into my room. Never having coffee before, I was beyond wired. I told Charlotte that she could some sleep and I would stay up. She needed the rest. She believed me. She looked at me with care and love and finally, without worry. Ten minutes after dozing off, Charlotte began to jerk. I could see her trying to grab something. Her hands slowly turning into fists trying to fight an invisible force away. Tears were running down her eyes.
I began to scream at her. "Charlotte! Charlotte! WAKE UP! WAKE UP!" I pulled her eye lids back and saw nothing but the white of her eyes. I pulled her hair. I dropped books. Nothing. The commotion awoke my parents who came running to the room.
"What is going on!?" My dad screamed. All I could do was point at Charlotte. Her small frame till churning. Her eyes now full of tears. Whimpering. My mom began to scream. My dad yelling at my mom to call 911. The full chaos of that night, I began to get dizzy. The room was turning and I saw black.
I awoke on my bed. My aunt and uncle with me. Confused, I began to call out for Charlotte. Charlotte is not with us anymore. No I don't believe you. She didn't wake up. What do you mean? Your parents are at the hospital. No, I want to see Charlotte.
That's all remember of Charlotte's last night. No one believed me when I told them what Charlotte was scared of. I grew up alone. I lost my best friend.
Until one night on my 21st birthday. Finally able to move on from Charlotte's death, I made friends and to celebrate my 21st we did what most new 21 year olds do: get wasted. And wasted I got. The last thing I remember was sitting on the couch about to make my drunk move on whatever random girl was sitting on my buddy's couch. "Hey, what..." I remember I managed saying before blacking out.
This was the night that I finally met them face to face. Or more, I heard the giggles. I lost my sister in front of me. The night I stayed to protect her. I was going to be the one to chase whatever evil was haunting her. That was the night my sister would be able to rest and wake up without worries. But i lost her that night. And yet, this exact moment truly defined fear. Worse than the night I lost Charlotte.
The giggles became louder and louder. I could the see the room around me. I could see where everyone was at. Blurry and unrecognizable. I tried calling out for help but all I mange was a whimper. I could walk around the shadows that i knew belonged to my friends but I could not get their attention. The room was almost dark and the shadows gray like smoke. The giggles. They were getting closer but I could not see where it was coming from.
I ran. And ran but the room only got bigger and I could never reach the door. My body began to feel heavy. I could feel tears running down my face. I ran to the shadows: "HELP ME!" I begged. But my voice sounded like it was drowned under water. I tried punching a shadow but my arm weighed a thousand pounds and fell weakly to my side. The giggles were closer now.
Hi. What's your name. We want to play with you. Play with us. Stay with us forever. Like your sister. Charlotte. You are special. Like Charlotte. Like Charlotte. Like Charlotte.
Like Charlotte. Over and over again with the same giggle. Every time.
"Charlotte!!" I screamed as I ran. Calling out for my sister as if she were still alive. I ran helplessly knowing I was only running in place.
Like Charlotte.
Like Charlotte.
"Evan. Don't move." I heard Charlotte telling me. I fell to the ground as if something tackled me. The weight on my chest felt as if i was hit by a bus. "Don't move Evan". It was Charlotte.
"Charlotte?". I called.
"Don't can't hurt you if you don't move". She told me. I was pinned to the floor. Was it her? Was it the giggles?
The giggling stopped. "WHERE ARE YOU BOY. WE WANT YOU. WE NEED YOU. LIKE CHARLOTTE. WHERE ARE YOU BOY!"
"I'll protect you Evan. It's my turn". I saw dark figures moving around. Coming closer. "It's ok Evan. I'm here now".
"WE WANT THE BOY. GIVE US THE BOY. WE NEED THE BOY!". The giggles were now begging. They past through me and felt a cold I never felt before. They began to scream even more. The ground felt as if it was shaking.
"If we can't have the boy we WILL come after YOU again and again and again. Like the night we took you Charlotte."
I couldn't talk. I want to scream Charlotte to let me go that I would give myself to them. To have to experience what Charlotte did that night every night for how long? No. I was her brother. I would protect her. But I couldn't. Instead I heard Charlotte's voice tell me "It's ok. It's my turn now Evan."
And I awoke. The party was still going on and no one had a single clue what happened to me. My sister had become my savior. Since they came, she protected me. She always did. The paralysis I went through, I only experienced that night. Charlotte went through it for years and may still forever.
I love you Charlotte. Wherever you are.
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
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My vision blurs and crackles, I think, before a scene materialises in front of my eyes: a play of shadows against the peeling paint on the ceiling.
A lawn. A fence a few distances behind. The green of the grass is poisoned by my mind and the perceived night, shifting and morphing from blades, to waves, to fur, and back to harmless green again.
Then footsteps: the refreshing crunch of lawn under its feet. Or his. A person maybe, no, a monster. It has the body of a man, and a face that is hard to define. Advancing with a languid pace, it glides into view, floating closer, closer. Swaying side to side, puppeted by some invisible force.
My gaze is forced onto its face. It's not much of a face, but a gaping orifice ringed with arching, tapered teeth. What lies within its jaws is more darkness — a blackness flexing and gleaming like muscle.
There stood a nightmare that is wholly mine.
"What's that?" The voice, without a source, is inflected with curiosity.
Then it sees me. It makes no outward indication of it except for a slight shift in posture, a twitch so inscrutable — unless you are looking for it.
It sees me. It will approach. I cannot run. Run. *Run.* My body does not listen, or is unwilling to listen.
As the distance narrows between us, the monster's jaw extends: a sick glint of saliva stringing between its teeth. It never does stop swaying: left, right, left, right—
Right in front.
*Do not move.*
A riot of pixels explode from the fringes of my vision like a glitch-ridden game — a pause screen gone wrong.
The moon-white ceiling bleeds through, before the scene vanishes. Weight tapers off my body. My eyes flutter open, to find a single tear trailing from the corner of my eye.
And the monster I've brought with me from my dreams.
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I've had terrible sleep paralysis experiences in the past. ONE really creepy one that I vividly remember-
I had drifted off into the paralyzing state and i began to hear footsteps come through my door. A tall, black, shadowy yet sort of glowing figure was at the foot of my bed.
I have a wooden floor in my room, imagine a group of little dogs with long toe nails running around your bed, in and out back and forth, in circles etc. That is what i began to hear but of course I didn't think it was dogs at the time.
THEN right outside my window, I heard a group of children singing carols. Not happy-go-lucky bs Christmas carols, but a low sort of chanting, though, I could not make out the words.
This is one of the many times I woke my mom up, who sleeps down the hall, just by screaming with my mouth closed.
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
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It had no eyes. There were no eyes. But it was looking at me. I could feel it looking at me. I tried to scream. I tried to warn her but all I could do was look right back at it. A nightmare in real life. I could feel its hunger. It hasn’t fed in days, maybe in weeks. But no matter how hungry it was, it couldn’t attack without movement. Movement is what seals them into this realm, and absence of that will send them back from where they came. I knew it was only a matter of time. She is not immune, she doesn’t know that it’s here. All it would take is a single scratch, a single kick, a single tiny movement, if I could move I would let the nightmare have me if it meant sparing her, but my immunity meant I could not even utter a single phrase, let alone try to fight the nightmare off. I could hear the covers rustling.
“I’m so sorry.” I thought.
There was a scream.
“So sorry,”
There was a slash.
“So,”
Then there was only the nightmare, feeding, satisfying its hunger until the dawn light scared it away.
“Sorry.”
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I've had terrible sleep paralysis experiences in the past. ONE really creepy one that I vividly remember-
I had drifted off into the paralyzing state and i began to hear footsteps come through my door. A tall, black, shadowy yet sort of glowing figure was at the foot of my bed.
I have a wooden floor in my room, imagine a group of little dogs with long toe nails running around your bed, in and out back and forth, in circles etc. That is what i began to hear but of course I didn't think it was dogs at the time.
THEN right outside my window, I heard a group of children singing carols. Not happy-go-lucky bs Christmas carols, but a low sort of chanting, though, I could not make out the words.
This is one of the many times I woke my mom up, who sleeps down the hall, just by screaming with my mouth closed.
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
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I had always thought the monsters were just stories, fairy tales adults told children to keep them in line. But, the creatures chasing me through the woods were no fairy tale. They were as real as the thudding of my heart.
I crashed through the underbrush, fleeing for my life. Strands of vegetation whipped at my face and threatened to entangle my legs. But, I dared not slow down. I could hear the monsters crashing through the woods behind me. There were three of them, all as big as houses and ugly as sin. I could hear them grunting to each other. The stories had always depicted them as dumb brutes. Did they have a language? Were they intelligent? But, I had no interest in stopping to find out. The words of my grandmother rang in my head: “If they catch you, they’ll skin you and eat you,” she would say. “They are evil, nightmares made flesh.”
I felt myself shuddering at the thought as I raced through the woods. The shudder transformed into an icy stab of fear when I heard the snapping of twigs and the pounding of feet behind me, closer than before. The monsters were gaining on me. I realized their long legs could carry them further faster than my shorter legs ever could.
Panicked, my mind flailed about for a way to escape, a way to elude certain death. Suddenly, something else my grandmother said hit me. It was my only hope.
I skidded to a stop. I hastily flipped onto my back. I extending my four legs into the air and stretched out my long tail, simulating rigor mortis. I partially closed my eyes.
Through slitted eyelids, the monsters soon came into view. They stopped directly over me, looking down at me and grunting at each other in their brutish language. They were as grotesque as the stories described them to be, pink hairless apes that walked upright.
“Just play possum,” my grandmother had said about evading the monsters. “They can’t hurt you if you don’t move.”
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I've had terrible sleep paralysis experiences in the past. ONE really creepy one that I vividly remember-
I had drifted off into the paralyzing state and i began to hear footsteps come through my door. A tall, black, shadowy yet sort of glowing figure was at the foot of my bed.
I have a wooden floor in my room, imagine a group of little dogs with long toe nails running around your bed, in and out back and forth, in circles etc. That is what i began to hear but of course I didn't think it was dogs at the time.
THEN right outside my window, I heard a group of children singing carols. Not happy-go-lucky bs Christmas carols, but a low sort of chanting, though, I could not make out the words.
This is one of the many times I woke my mom up, who sleeps down the hall, just by screaming with my mouth closed.
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
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They can't hurt you if you don't move.
That's what I'm come to realize, after years of those terrifying experiences. They *can't* hurt you if you don't move. Sleep paralysis. Almost everyone's had it. The simple explanation. When you're dreaming, your brain paralyzes your body so you don't start acting out your dreams. So if you were dreaming about running, you wouldn't actually start pumping your legs in your bed. Sometimes you wake up before your body does, and you can feel yourself paralyzed.
It's fucking terrifying. You're not in control of your body, and that's when they come.
They're visions. When you're in sleep paralysis, sometimes you see things. Terrifying visions, monsters, all that shit. Visions, that's what they are, nothing but visions. That's what everyone says.
No one's been hurt by sleep paralysis. Ever.
That's because *they can't hurt you if you don't move.*
I realized what they are. They're not visions. They're real, and they're fucking evil. Sleep paralysis isn't just some shit for visions, it's a defense mechanism. That's what it is, it's to protect you from them. To protect you from the girl in the blue dress, from the demon in the doorway, from the goblin on your bed, from the man under it. And from you.
My first sleep paralysis experiences had scared me so much I slept in my parent's bed for a year before braving my own bedroom. I was 12 back then, and my first experiences were of the goblin.
At least, that's what I called it. It's a short, runty, fat little bastard. It had huge green eyes and this lumpy, scaly skin. Two massive ears, and nose hair sprouting from each nostril. I'd wake up to it sitting on my fucking bed, grinning at me, grinning at me with all those fucking little pointy teeth.
But he wasn't the real threat. That was the girl in the blue dress. The girl, with that rotting, white, blotchy skin. In that torn, dusty blue dress. With that long, curly black hair that hung over her eyes. Her empty, eye sockets.
She ran her hands all over me, she hissed, and chattered, the only sounds she could make without a tongue. She tried to stab me with those long, skeleton fingers, but she couldn't.
Because *they can't hurt you if you don't move.*
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I've had terrible sleep paralysis experiences in the past. ONE really creepy one that I vividly remember-
I had drifted off into the paralyzing state and i began to hear footsteps come through my door. A tall, black, shadowy yet sort of glowing figure was at the foot of my bed.
I have a wooden floor in my room, imagine a group of little dogs with long toe nails running around your bed, in and out back and forth, in circles etc. That is what i began to hear but of course I didn't think it was dogs at the time.
THEN right outside my window, I heard a group of children singing carols. Not happy-go-lucky bs Christmas carols, but a low sort of chanting, though, I could not make out the words.
This is one of the many times I woke my mom up, who sleeps down the hall, just by screaming with my mouth closed.
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
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"Doctor, I know you think I'm crazy. I really do. I just might be, you know? I mean, I've been talking about this shit for years now, and everyone who's ever heard it says I'm fucking nuts. Off my fucking rocker. But I gotta say it, you know? I gotta keep talking about this shit, or it'll, I don't know, it'll eat me up. It'll just tear me up inside until I really am crazy, and I explode. I just gotta. So I checked myself in, so I can, you know, talk about it. That's what's nice about this fucking place. Everyone knows you're a fucking nutter and they all listen and smile and nod and never ever tell you it's a dream, right? I don't feel crazy here. I feel like I make a lot of fucking sense."
"I grew up in Indiana, Doc. My grandma, she had a house, an old creaky wooden house in the woods. In the summer I used to go out with my friends into the woods, and play in the creek, and beat snakes to death with rocks. Kid stuff. The summer was great. It was all green, and soft, you know? Like, the moss was soft. You could run around without shoes on and just let your feet sink into the dead leaves and mud. There was like, cool bits and warm bits. The sun was warm, and the leaves were cool. It's hard to explain, Doc. Jesus Christ, I don't need to go into this with you. I'm turning into a fucking teenage girl. Fuck."
"There was a graveyard in the woods too, if you went far enough. An old one with worn headstones, like, a fucking hundred-year-old bone yard. It was in a clearing, so the sun was always right down on it, you know? But it wasn't ever warm there, like the other clearings. We didn't go there too often. Gave us the fucking creeps, you know? There was this mud there, and it stank. Stuck to fucking everything, too. Thick black mud. Ruined my shoes once, and my grandma beat me for that. She was a fucking hag. Anyway, there was this big hunk of stone in the middle of it, and one time I, I mean, I fucking broke it, you know? I was just sitting on it, I guess it was an angel, and I was sitting on a wing, and it fucking broke. I don't know. The whole thing was worn down and mossy, so you could hardly tell it was an angel once. It could have been one of those creepy ass grim reapers, you know? Anyway, that's when it started."
"I started to see things, you know? At night. In my fucking closet. It was this chick in a fucking nightgown, and she was all rotted and shit. No eyes or hair or nothing, just all bones and skin. Fuck. Creepy as hell. And she'd just sit in my closet and watch me, like a fucking creep. You could only tell it was a chick because she wore an old dress, all tore up and shit. And sometimes I'd hear crying, like it was a chick, you know? Inside my closet. It was like that for a long time. Just crying, and this skeleton chick staring at me. I told my grandma and she took me to therapy, to see this lady doctor who talked about my parents and shit. Told me it was some repressed fucking memory or some shit, I don't know. Fuck. Anyway, it was like that for a while. Just some repressed memories and shit, and I ignored it. I ignored it for a long ass time."
"Then one night, I woke up. I woke up and this skeleton chick was standing over me in bed, with her finger on my lips, and she had this huge fucking smile on her face, like she was in the middle of some funny fucking joke and she was waiting for me to laugh. And I just, you know, I fucking froze. I didn't even breathe while she was looking down at me. She started, I don't know, humming or singing or some shit. And running her finger under my chin and down my neck. She had this long nail, and it scratched at me a little. Then she leaned down and, like, I don't fucking know, kissed my on the forehead. Except she didn't have lips anymore, so it was just her fucking teeth on my face. And I still didn't move, even though she was right fucking there."
"There's only one way I know I'm not totally fucking off my rocker, doctor. And that was the stupid fucking dog. It came in my room and started barking. I mean, you saw what fucking happened to the dog. I didn't move, I just fucking watched from bed. She just, you know, she got her nails in him, and she just, I don't know, she tore him up, and spread him all over. He was squealing the whole fucking time, and she was just still humming this stupid song the whole time, like she was picking fucking daisies or something. Then she came to me in bed, and she took her hands, and they were all fucking bloody from the dog, and she started to put lines on my face. One at a time. And then a few on my chest. And I didn't fucking move, even though I was sobbing, because then she'd get her nails in me and my fucking guts would be hanging from the ceiling fan too, you know?"
"Anyway, I got put in a place like this, and they worked at me until I could ignore her better. You know. Told me she wasn't real and gave me fucking pills and shit. And it worked for a really long time, you know? Except a few months ago, I had this chick over, and she kept me up past when I normally fall asleep, because, you know, I mean I don't have to tell you, Doc. You get me. And after she fell asleep, that dead bitch was there again. And I was just laying there, thinking that if I moved, or if that chick woke up and saw, we were both fucking dead. And this dead chick was just humming that fucking song and kissing me and running her hands all down me again. And so I came here."
"Hey, Doc, when you leave tonight, can you have the orderlies leave the fucking lights on? I don't do so good in the dark, you know?"
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I've had terrible sleep paralysis experiences in the past. ONE really creepy one that I vividly remember-
I had drifted off into the paralyzing state and i began to hear footsteps come through my door. A tall, black, shadowy yet sort of glowing figure was at the foot of my bed.
I have a wooden floor in my room, imagine a group of little dogs with long toe nails running around your bed, in and out back and forth, in circles etc. That is what i began to hear but of course I didn't think it was dogs at the time.
THEN right outside my window, I heard a group of children singing carols. Not happy-go-lucky bs Christmas carols, but a low sort of chanting, though, I could not make out the words.
This is one of the many times I woke my mom up, who sleeps down the hall, just by screaming with my mouth closed.
|
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
|
I had always thought the monsters were just stories, fairy tales adults told children to keep them in line. But, the creatures chasing me through the woods were no fairy tale. They were as real as the thudding of my heart.
I crashed through the underbrush, fleeing for my life. Strands of vegetation whipped at my face and threatened to entangle my legs. But, I dared not slow down. I could hear the monsters crashing through the woods behind me. There were three of them, all as big as houses and ugly as sin. I could hear them grunting to each other. The stories had always depicted them as dumb brutes. Did they have a language? Were they intelligent? But, I had no interest in stopping to find out. The words of my grandmother rang in my head: “If they catch you, they’ll skin you and eat you,” she would say. “They are evil, nightmares made flesh.”
I felt myself shuddering at the thought as I raced through the woods. The shudder transformed into an icy stab of fear when I heard the snapping of twigs and the pounding of feet behind me, closer than before. The monsters were gaining on me. I realized their long legs could carry them further faster than my shorter legs ever could.
Panicked, my mind flailed about for a way to escape, a way to elude certain death. Suddenly, something else my grandmother said hit me. It was my only hope.
I skidded to a stop. I hastily flipped onto my back. I extending my four legs into the air and stretched out my long tail, simulating rigor mortis. I partially closed my eyes.
Through slitted eyelids, the monsters soon came into view. They stopped directly over me, looking down at me and grunting at each other in their brutish language. They were as grotesque as the stories described them to be, pink hairless apes that walked upright.
“Just play possum,” my grandmother had said about evading the monsters. “They can’t hurt you if you don’t move.”
|
My vision blurs and crackles, I think, before a scene materialises in front of my eyes: a play of shadows against the peeling paint on the ceiling.
A lawn. A fence a few distances behind. The green of the grass is poisoned by my mind and the perceived night, shifting and morphing from blades, to waves, to fur, and back to harmless green again.
Then footsteps: the refreshing crunch of lawn under its feet. Or his. A person maybe, no, a monster. It has the body of a man, and a face that is hard to define. Advancing with a languid pace, it glides into view, floating closer, closer. Swaying side to side, puppeted by some invisible force.
My gaze is forced onto its face. It's not much of a face, but a gaping orifice ringed with arching, tapered teeth. What lies within its jaws is more darkness — a blackness flexing and gleaming like muscle.
There stood a nightmare that is wholly mine.
"What's that?" The voice, without a source, is inflected with curiosity.
Then it sees me. It makes no outward indication of it except for a slight shift in posture, a twitch so inscrutable — unless you are looking for it.
It sees me. It will approach. I cannot run. Run. *Run.* My body does not listen, or is unwilling to listen.
As the distance narrows between us, the monster's jaw extends: a sick glint of saliva stringing between its teeth. It never does stop swaying: left, right, left, right—
Right in front.
*Do not move.*
A riot of pixels explode from the fringes of my vision like a glitch-ridden game — a pause screen gone wrong.
The moon-white ceiling bleeds through, before the scene vanishes. Weight tapers off my body. My eyes flutter open, to find a single tear trailing from the corner of my eye.
And the monster I've brought with me from my dreams.
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[WP] Sleep paralysis is defensive mechanism. They can't hurt you if you don't move.
|
They can't hurt you if you don't move.
That's what I'm come to realize, after years of those terrifying experiences. They *can't* hurt you if you don't move. Sleep paralysis. Almost everyone's had it. The simple explanation. When you're dreaming, your brain paralyzes your body so you don't start acting out your dreams. So if you were dreaming about running, you wouldn't actually start pumping your legs in your bed. Sometimes you wake up before your body does, and you can feel yourself paralyzed.
It's fucking terrifying. You're not in control of your body, and that's when they come.
They're visions. When you're in sleep paralysis, sometimes you see things. Terrifying visions, monsters, all that shit. Visions, that's what they are, nothing but visions. That's what everyone says.
No one's been hurt by sleep paralysis. Ever.
That's because *they can't hurt you if you don't move.*
I realized what they are. They're not visions. They're real, and they're fucking evil. Sleep paralysis isn't just some shit for visions, it's a defense mechanism. That's what it is, it's to protect you from them. To protect you from the girl in the blue dress, from the demon in the doorway, from the goblin on your bed, from the man under it. And from you.
My first sleep paralysis experiences had scared me so much I slept in my parent's bed for a year before braving my own bedroom. I was 12 back then, and my first experiences were of the goblin.
At least, that's what I called it. It's a short, runty, fat little bastard. It had huge green eyes and this lumpy, scaly skin. Two massive ears, and nose hair sprouting from each nostril. I'd wake up to it sitting on my fucking bed, grinning at me, grinning at me with all those fucking little pointy teeth.
But he wasn't the real threat. That was the girl in the blue dress. The girl, with that rotting, white, blotchy skin. In that torn, dusty blue dress. With that long, curly black hair that hung over her eyes. Her empty, eye sockets.
She ran her hands all over me, she hissed, and chattered, the only sounds she could make without a tongue. She tried to stab me with those long, skeleton fingers, but she couldn't.
Because *they can't hurt you if you don't move.*
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It had no eyes. There were no eyes. But it was looking at me. I could feel it looking at me. I tried to scream. I tried to warn her but all I could do was look right back at it. A nightmare in real life. I could feel its hunger. It hasn’t fed in days, maybe in weeks. But no matter how hungry it was, it couldn’t attack without movement. Movement is what seals them into this realm, and absence of that will send them back from where they came. I knew it was only a matter of time. She is not immune, she doesn’t know that it’s here. All it would take is a single scratch, a single kick, a single tiny movement, if I could move I would let the nightmare have me if it meant sparing her, but my immunity meant I could not even utter a single phrase, let alone try to fight the nightmare off. I could hear the covers rustling.
“I’m so sorry.” I thought.
There was a scream.
“So sorry,”
There was a slash.
“So,”
Then there was only the nightmare, feeding, satisfying its hunger until the dawn light scared it away.
“Sorry.”
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EDIT: it doesn't have to be a meteorite crashing into earth. I like the ones so far, but you can kill humanity however you want. It can be Cthulhu, it can be aliens, or it can be a solar flare. Whatever you want, the world is yours to murder.
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[WP] The last minute of your life before the world ends.
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The man in the apartment had the television turned on but he had stopped listening to it long ago. The news anchor had stopped spewing rapid words of panic and worry sometime in the past hour, possibly to go hide down in one of the many bunkers that had been hastily created not but hours after it was announced that something funny was happening to the sun.
The man in the apartment didn't know the specifics of what was going on with the giant flaming ball of gas in the center of the solar system. He just knew the simple steps that would lead to the end of the world: All electronics would stop working. The temperature will begin to rise. The atmosphere will catch fire, and life on the planet would come to an end. Earth would be reduced to giant barren rock, similar to what it's like on Mercury.
The man in the apartment whistled as he dug through his refrigerator, pulling out a gallon of milk and checking the expiration date. He let out a near-silent giggle. *Even if the damn thing is expired, it's not like I'll be around long enough for the food poisoning to hit me.* He poured himself a glass, took one small sip, holding the milk in his mouth, and then spat it out into the sink. Few minutes left to spare alive or not, he wasn't going to go out with the taste of spoiled milk on his tongue.
The man in the apartment poured the spoiled gallon of milk down the drain, stopping halfway and laughing at himself again. "Why am I pouring this out? No point in it really, right?" He said to no one in general.
The man in the apartment left the half-emptied gallon of milk on the counter-top and exited the kitchen, first retiring to the living room where the television was on but nothing was happening on it, at least nothing of interest, and then he walked into his son's bedroom, where he still had boxes of belongings still packed up. There were still three days left before it would be his turn to have his son over. He huffed, thinking how his bitch of an ex-wife would be the one to spend the final moments on Earth with their son.
The man in the apartment sputtered a few curse words under his breath as he tore open one of his son's boxes, one that was filled with toys, and spilled it out onto the hardwood floor. Random action figures clattered to the ground, and then something else that caught his eye. A bouncy ball and some jacks. He laughed as he sat down onto the floor, grabbing the bouncy ball in one hand and the plastic jacks in the other. "I remember this game," he said to no one.
The man in the apartment began to play the game, bouncing the ball off of the ground, grabbing as many jacks as he could before the ball came down again.
The man in the apartment didn't notice how the television turned off or how the digital clock sitting on the end-table quickly flashed off.
The man in the apartment was too absorbed in the child-game of jacks to notice how hot it was getting in the bedroom.
The man in the apartment bounced the ball, grabbed jacks, caught the ball, bounced it again, grabbed more jacks, caught the ball, and when he went to bounce the ball again, stopped and sighed when he saw that the plastic ball melted into the wooden floorboards. The plastic jacks he held in his right hand were melting into hot plastic goo, searing the flesh on his palm.
The man in the apartment didn't have time to even flinch from the pain before the lights went out.
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I always figured I'd have a hand in it. Really, I'd have it no other way. A super magnet that attracted asteroids was something to behold. I wondered how many people really knew what was coming. It would be a glorious beautiful fireball and all the shaking and destruction. What a beautiful sight.
It approaches. A big one, miles in diameter, an Earth killer. I asked for money to stop the machine, and they gave it to me. Trillions of dollars to stop me. I thought of their fear, and I smiled. I could see it, the hot fire in the sky. I counted down in my head. Ten seconds, the burning, the warmth. Five seconds, I can barely stand the heat. It hits.
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For example, maybe a Roman soldier, fighting for the glory of Rome and to earn his citizenship. A medieval archer, told to fight by his lord against a king he's never heard of. An American Civil War or Napoleonic soldier, fighting just to get three meals a day, regular wages and the chance for loot. A world war 2 trooper, fighting to defend his homeland against all those who threaten it.
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[WP] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife. Each from a different period of time. They discuss their differing opinions of War.
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In an instant, everything I knew was gone. In another, I awoke to white.
"It's about time." I heard a voice murmur as I opened my eyes, realizing that I was laying on the ground rather than inside the helicopter I was just piloting. Right, the helicopter, it was going down. We were going down *hard*.
"Help him up, why don't you?" I heard another voice.
"Why me?"
"Because I helped *you*."
Someone groaned and then I felt a hand reach for my own, lifting me out of the white space and up onto the ground. It was at that moment that I saw the two people in front of me. The first was a large man, with a beard that I could only describe as epic in size and girth. He dawned a horned helmet, his chest adorned with a symbol I had never seen before, and a large animal pelt laid over his left shoulder. In his right hand was a large battle axe.
The second one was a much smaller woman, who I could only describe as robotic. Her eyes glowed sharply and I swore that her entire body clinked as she stood up. Next to the rock she was sitting on sat a rather large assault rifle, of the likes I had never seen before.
"I'm Einar of Clan Danes," the larger man said, slightly bowing his head.
"And I'm Brigadier Colonel Annah Wolfe, 42nd Infantry," she paused for a moment and looked at Einar, "I don't have a clan."
I stared at them both before realizing that it was my turn to speak, "Airman First Class Gregory Shaw, 101st Airborne Division."
"The 101st?" Annah whistled, "Which war?"
I looked at, "Vietnam, helicopter pilot."
Annah nodded and sent off an impromptu salute with her left arm, one that made a robotic noise as it moved. I, remembering my manners, saluted back.
Einar scoffed, "You soldiers and your salutes. In my time, we saluted each other the only way we knew how."
Annah turned back to him, "By seeing who could drink the most ale?"
He bellowed with laughter, "Exactly Wolfe! You'd fit in with the clans!"
Annah shook her head and turned back to me. "We were told to wait for a third."
"By whom?"
Einar threw his arm around me, using the one that held his battleaxe to point into the "sky," which was just more and more white. "By the Gods of course! Soon, we shall enter Valhalla and feast with the Greatest Warriors of all time!"
"You've been murmuring about Valhalla for what feels like months, Einar," Annah said as she perched herself on the rock once more. It seemed to by the only thing in the direct area that wasn't white or the ground they stood on. "They're obviously not in that big of a rush to put us there."
"Rush? There is no rush! I have waited years and years for this moment," Einar held up his hand triumphantly, "What's a few more hours?"
My eyes darted back and forth between them as they conversed, fully realizing that it was just us *three* in a sea of white. "So what do we do then, ma'am?"
"Enough with the formalities kid," she laughed, "Doesn't matter up here."
"How so?"
"I live in," she shook her head, "Correction, *lived* in 2073. You were the 60's. Einar here was way back in the early 11th century." She smiled, fidgeting with her assault rifle, "Up here, time means nothing."
Einar took a seat as well, in a chair that I swore appeared out of nowhere. I looked at Annah, "Where is here, exactly?"
She looked up at me, her eyes gleaming with passion, "The afterlife, the end, heaven, the clouds above," she glanced at Einar, "Valhalla."
Einar nodded, "We fell in battle and we are greeted by each other."
I fell to the ground, but before I hit it, a chair appeared around me and helped me sit down. Part of me didn't even think about it, I was too focused on what Annah had just said.
"What's got you down, Private?"
"I," I couldn't quite find the words, but part of me knew that the two people standing in front of me were fighters, too. If I said it, they'd understand; I stared at the ground. "I went into war, thinking that I could buy more time for my country, my friends, my family; even for people I didn't even know." I looked up, "And now, I'm told time doesn't matter up here. If it didn't matter?" I shook my head, "Then what was I fighting for?"
Annah shook her head, "It doesn't matter *here*, Private. That's the important part. Down there, the world's still kicking. Trust me."
It felt good to hear from someone like her, someone I knew who lived in a world younger than my own, but it still hurt. "I don't deserve to be here, I shouldn't have been chosen to come up here," I murmured.
"Valhalla's warriors are not chosen, warrior. They're born through the fire of war, through the heat of battle, through the acts of those willing to give it all up."
"Fire of war? Heat of battle?" I shook my head, "What fire ends in anything other than destruction, Einar?" I looked up, staring at the Viking in front of me, "What heat doesn't leave scars burned into your memory?"
"The heat that leaves scars burned into your enemy," he said almost immediately, as if he half-expected my questions.
"It happens to all of us you know," Annah added.
I turned to her, "What happens?"
"The rage, the burning passion inside us that doubts your very self. We all feel it, at some point or another." She fiddled with her assault rifle, running her metallic thumb over the barrel, "Sometimes we feel it when we die, other times when you destroy not only a person, but a civilization," I could see Einar fidget in his seat at her comment. "Sometimes you feel it when you make a decision, a decision that could end a war that you *thought* you believed in. Sometimes you feel it when everything you know vanishes."
Finger by finger, she let go of her gun, dropping it into the soft, white ground, and slowly, it disappeared, overtaken by the white mist. "Other times, the doubt burns inside of you, like the fire of war burns the country side."
I could see Einar loosen his grip on his battleaxe, slowly letting go of the weapon of war he used to kill hundreds. It too, disappeared into the white mist.
"Other times, the doubt reaches you into the afterlife, when part of you wonders," without realizing I reached for the helmet that still covered my head, twirling it in my hands before I, too, dropped it into the white mist.
"What more could I have done?" We all whispered in unison before a large gate appeared in front of us.
"**You understand**," a voice boomed behind us, "**It is for that reason, you are here**."
_____
*I really enjoyed this prompt, if you liked my story, check out my subreddit, /r/BlankPagesEmptyMugs!*
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*And so we went to war*
They have met in the Waiting Room, somewhere between life and death and what came next. Shaft, Twig and BTK. Not their names, of course, but what they were. Eventually, a conversation started. And of course, the most important question was "How did you end up here?".
Shaft spat on the floor with dismissive snort. Almost 40, with skin tough like a combat boot. Dirty chainmail clanking as he moved.
-Fucking frenchie nobles, how else. We were trenched nicely, shooting their dumb 'orses. One of em got me in the skirmish. Could even gut me proper, took me fucking forever to bleed out. And why coz his majesty says "Let's meet em at Crecy", so ol' Gary gets 'is bow n gets 'imself killed. What bout you, kid?
Twig shivered. Pale, thin, barely over 18, hay tied around ankles.
-Turkish hornets bite hard. I think we were ordered to storm the bridge. His exellency didn't make much sense. Nemetz he was. Wish I had stayed home, I was gonna make a new flute. But his majesty said we needed to take Azov back.
BTK sat silent. Black as night's sky, he couldn't talk much since a mine shredded his face. But in his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if he was that different. Send by a wealthy man in a nice suit as an envoy of democtacy only to die on some dusty Iraqi road.
They were near slaves, he thought, drafted by power hungry monarchs. His service was his choice. They were different.
Right?
|
For example, maybe a Roman soldier, fighting for the glory of Rome and to earn his citizenship. A medieval archer, told to fight by his lord against a king he's never heard of. An American Civil War or Napoleonic soldier, fighting just to get three meals a day, regular wages and the chance for loot. A world war 2 trooper, fighting to defend his homeland against all those who threaten it.
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[WP] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife. Each from a different period of time. They discuss their differing opinions of War.
|
I woke up in a strange room painted blindingly white. Was it a room? I thought I saw walls, but it seems to continue on forever.
I turned to find two others sitting on similarly blinding white chairs. One man looked to be a soldier from World War One. The other man looked to be a soldier from Vietnam holding his head in his hands, his helmet at his feet.
It dawned on me. I was dead. All of a sudden I remembered the explosion. The armored humvee flying through the air as if it was a toy. I sat down next to the other two trying to process everything.
"You alright kiddo?" The WWI soldier asked as he lit a cigarette. He offered me one and I graciously accepted.
Taking my first drag I sighed "Is this real?"
"Sure is. It's comforting really. No more pain. No more trenches. Only regret I have is leaving my family behind, but I figure they'll be here eventually."
I teared up as I thought of my boy Maverick back home. He has to grow up without a daddy. Emily has to raise him by herself. I looked over at the soldier in distress trying to distract myself. "He ok?" I asked as I took another drag.
"Dunno, hasn't said two words since he got here. Just hunched over and cried off and on." The man said only half paying attention.
I extended my hand to introduce myself. "SGT Jacobs"
He reached out and gripped my hand with surprising strength. He smiled not saying a word. There was a tear at the corner of his eye.
The other soldier looked up as if snapped out of a trance "Jacobs? Where you from boy?"
"Minnesota. Small town called Wolf Lake." I say a little confused. "Why?"
"What's your mama's name?"
"Jenna."
The man grins ear to ear and jumps out of his chair. He pulls me up into a tight hug with tears in his eyes. "Boy, I've been waiting a long time to meet you."
The old soldier puts out his smoke and stands up. "Well ain't this a hell'uva family reunion." He puts a hand on both of our backs looking at me. "I think that makes me your grandpa."
|
*And so we went to war*
They have met in the Waiting Room, somewhere between life and death and what came next. Shaft, Twig and BTK. Not their names, of course, but what they were. Eventually, a conversation started. And of course, the most important question was "How did you end up here?".
Shaft spat on the floor with dismissive snort. Almost 40, with skin tough like a combat boot. Dirty chainmail clanking as he moved.
-Fucking frenchie nobles, how else. We were trenched nicely, shooting their dumb 'orses. One of em got me in the skirmish. Could even gut me proper, took me fucking forever to bleed out. And why coz his majesty says "Let's meet em at Crecy", so ol' Gary gets 'is bow n gets 'imself killed. What bout you, kid?
Twig shivered. Pale, thin, barely over 18, hay tied around ankles.
-Turkish hornets bite hard. I think we were ordered to storm the bridge. His exellency didn't make much sense. Nemetz he was. Wish I had stayed home, I was gonna make a new flute. But his majesty said we needed to take Azov back.
BTK sat silent. Black as night's sky, he couldn't talk much since a mine shredded his face. But in his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if he was that different. Send by a wealthy man in a nice suit as an envoy of democtacy only to die on some dusty Iraqi road.
They were near slaves, he thought, drafted by power hungry monarchs. His service was his choice. They were different.
Right?
|
For example, maybe a Roman soldier, fighting for the glory of Rome and to earn his citizenship. A medieval archer, told to fight by his lord against a king he's never heard of. An American Civil War or Napoleonic soldier, fighting just to get three meals a day, regular wages and the chance for loot. A world war 2 trooper, fighting to defend his homeland against all those who threaten it.
|
[WP] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife. Each from a different period of time. They discuss their differing opinions of War.
|
3 warriors of their time found themselves in a white waiting room known for warriors deceased and waiting for judgement. Clearly, linear time is irrelevant here....
1 warrior looked like a peasant wielding a a makeshift shield and sword.
A 2nd warrior looked like a grand knight.
The 3rd warrior was a young marine.
There was an awkward silence with no indication of anything to happen. Just 3 men seemingly waiting for nothing.
To break the silence, the young marine decided to ask "So, I assume we're all dead.... I suppose, I should ask... what did you guys die for?"
The peasant looked up at the marine and without hesitation replied "I fought for my family, for their freedom and land. I fought so we could keep our food and our way of life. We were a peaceful group of people until the empire found our lands."
The Knight replied "That is an honorable death to have died for such a cause. I commend you, you are truly a great a man."
The knight turned to the marine and continued, "I fought for my King. He was the 8th generation of his lineage, ruled our people with respect and love. his family spent their lives dedicated to the betterment of their people. During battle, he would be seen on the front line of the battle field fighting with his men. I died taking an arrow to the chest for this man. I died knowing this King would continue to serve my family well."
The peasant replied "I too commend you sir, You sacrificed your life for a higher cause".
There was a bit more silence as the peasant and knight expected an answer from the Marine. The marine looked a bit confused, thinking about what his answer might be. The peasant asked, "So what did you die for young man?"
The Marine looked at other two, then down at his feet before answering, "To be honest, I'm not sure what I died for after hearing your stories. I thought it was for my family, but they were safe at home, probably watching TV and drinking beers before sleeping in their comfy beds. And then I thought I was fighting for freedom and democracy, but I wasn't freeing anyone I cared about, no one from my country. I wasn't fighting for democracy back at home. They weren't affected in anyway. They would still remain a democracy. TO be honest.... I'm not sure what I died for....."
|
*And so we went to war*
They have met in the Waiting Room, somewhere between life and death and what came next. Shaft, Twig and BTK. Not their names, of course, but what they were. Eventually, a conversation started. And of course, the most important question was "How did you end up here?".
Shaft spat on the floor with dismissive snort. Almost 40, with skin tough like a combat boot. Dirty chainmail clanking as he moved.
-Fucking frenchie nobles, how else. We were trenched nicely, shooting their dumb 'orses. One of em got me in the skirmish. Could even gut me proper, took me fucking forever to bleed out. And why coz his majesty says "Let's meet em at Crecy", so ol' Gary gets 'is bow n gets 'imself killed. What bout you, kid?
Twig shivered. Pale, thin, barely over 18, hay tied around ankles.
-Turkish hornets bite hard. I think we were ordered to storm the bridge. His exellency didn't make much sense. Nemetz he was. Wish I had stayed home, I was gonna make a new flute. But his majesty said we needed to take Azov back.
BTK sat silent. Black as night's sky, he couldn't talk much since a mine shredded his face. But in his thoughts, he couldn't help but wonder if he was that different. Send by a wealthy man in a nice suit as an envoy of democtacy only to die on some dusty Iraqi road.
They were near slaves, he thought, drafted by power hungry monarchs. His service was his choice. They were different.
Right?
|
For example, maybe a Roman soldier, fighting for the glory of Rome and to earn his citizenship. A medieval archer, told to fight by his lord against a king he's never heard of. An American Civil War or Napoleonic soldier, fighting just to get three meals a day, regular wages and the chance for loot. A world war 2 trooper, fighting to defend his homeland against all those who threaten it.
|
[WP] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife. Each from a different period of time. They discuss their differing opinions of War.
|
I woke up in a strange room painted blindingly white. Was it a room? I thought I saw walls, but it seems to continue on forever.
I turned to find two others sitting on similarly blinding white chairs. One man looked to be a soldier from World War One. The other man looked to be a soldier from Vietnam holding his head in his hands, his helmet at his feet.
It dawned on me. I was dead. All of a sudden I remembered the explosion. The armored humvee flying through the air as if it was a toy. I sat down next to the other two trying to process everything.
"You alright kiddo?" The WWI soldier asked as he lit a cigarette. He offered me one and I graciously accepted.
Taking my first drag I sighed "Is this real?"
"Sure is. It's comforting really. No more pain. No more trenches. Only regret I have is leaving my family behind, but I figure they'll be here eventually."
I teared up as I thought of my boy Maverick back home. He has to grow up without a daddy. Emily has to raise him by herself. I looked over at the soldier in distress trying to distract myself. "He ok?" I asked as I took another drag.
"Dunno, hasn't said two words since he got here. Just hunched over and cried off and on." The man said only half paying attention.
I extended my hand to introduce myself. "SGT Jacobs"
He reached out and gripped my hand with surprising strength. He smiled not saying a word. There was a tear at the corner of his eye.
The other soldier looked up as if snapped out of a trance "Jacobs? Where you from boy?"
"Minnesota. Small town called Wolf Lake." I say a little confused. "Why?"
"What's your mama's name?"
"Jenna."
The man grins ear to ear and jumps out of his chair. He pulls me up into a tight hug with tears in his eyes. "Boy, I've been waiting a long time to meet you."
The old soldier puts out his smoke and stands up. "Well ain't this a hell'uva family reunion." He puts a hand on both of our backs looking at me. "I think that makes me your grandpa."
|
3 men sat conversing in the waiting room for the afterlife.
In the first chair sat a giant of a man, blond, burley, and covered in scars and tattoos, a true viking.
In the second was a man painted in green and black camouflage, and wearing a vest covered in all sorts of pockets, pads, and pouches.
Finally, in the last chair sat a man whose face was covered completely behind a bare metal mask which bore no slits or holes for his eyes, nose, or mouth!
The little skin that was exposed on his body showed various odd metallic bits and parts protruding from it.
Eager to break the awkward silence, the blond viking spoke up to the two men next to him.
**"You must have been great warriors to earn a seat in the waiting room of Valhalla!"** bellowed the Viking
The man in camoflauge and the metal "mask" only turned and looked at the viking in confusion.
**"...Ehh well death without glory or honor is hollow, yes?!"**
*"Where in sam's hill are you from son.."* asked the camouflaged man
**"I am Bjorn! Son of Halfred, and feller of 300 men and hero of my people! It took 44 spears to slay me you know! What do your people call you Green painted man?."**
The man in camouflage replied. *"Captain Price, 1st division, United States army...."*
**"Ahhahh, and what about you metal-man, who are you!"**
The man with the metal mask's voice was odd and mechanical.
>"John-066, IAD corporate operator ."
**"Indeed tin-man! now how did you fellow warriors die? It must have been glorious no!?"**
*"Japs...*" Murmured Captain Price.
>"Orbital bombing. "
**"HHaaha, well do not fret my friends, soon we will be granted access to the afterlife, and we will fight and feast for all of eternity!**"
*"Hope I can see my family again..."*
>"Here's to hoping there's a tiki- bar up there..."
|
For example, maybe a Roman soldier, fighting for the glory of Rome and to earn his citizenship. A medieval archer, told to fight by his lord against a king he's never heard of. An American Civil War or Napoleonic soldier, fighting just to get three meals a day, regular wages and the chance for loot. A world war 2 trooper, fighting to defend his homeland against all those who threaten it.
|
[WP] Three soldiers meet in the afterlife. Each from a different period of time. They discuss their differing opinions of War.
|
3 warriors of their time found themselves in a white waiting room known for warriors deceased and waiting for judgement. Clearly, linear time is irrelevant here....
1 warrior looked like a peasant wielding a a makeshift shield and sword.
A 2nd warrior looked like a grand knight.
The 3rd warrior was a young marine.
There was an awkward silence with no indication of anything to happen. Just 3 men seemingly waiting for nothing.
To break the silence, the young marine decided to ask "So, I assume we're all dead.... I suppose, I should ask... what did you guys die for?"
The peasant looked up at the marine and without hesitation replied "I fought for my family, for their freedom and land. I fought so we could keep our food and our way of life. We were a peaceful group of people until the empire found our lands."
The Knight replied "That is an honorable death to have died for such a cause. I commend you, you are truly a great a man."
The knight turned to the marine and continued, "I fought for my King. He was the 8th generation of his lineage, ruled our people with respect and love. his family spent their lives dedicated to the betterment of their people. During battle, he would be seen on the front line of the battle field fighting with his men. I died taking an arrow to the chest for this man. I died knowing this King would continue to serve my family well."
The peasant replied "I too commend you sir, You sacrificed your life for a higher cause".
There was a bit more silence as the peasant and knight expected an answer from the Marine. The marine looked a bit confused, thinking about what his answer might be. The peasant asked, "So what did you die for young man?"
The Marine looked at other two, then down at his feet before answering, "To be honest, I'm not sure what I died for after hearing your stories. I thought it was for my family, but they were safe at home, probably watching TV and drinking beers before sleeping in their comfy beds. And then I thought I was fighting for freedom and democracy, but I wasn't freeing anyone I cared about, no one from my country. I wasn't fighting for democracy back at home. They weren't affected in anyway. They would still remain a democracy. TO be honest.... I'm not sure what I died for....."
|
3 men sat conversing in the waiting room for the afterlife.
In the first chair sat a giant of a man, blond, burley, and covered in scars and tattoos, a true viking.
In the second was a man painted in green and black camouflage, and wearing a vest covered in all sorts of pockets, pads, and pouches.
Finally, in the last chair sat a man whose face was covered completely behind a bare metal mask which bore no slits or holes for his eyes, nose, or mouth!
The little skin that was exposed on his body showed various odd metallic bits and parts protruding from it.
Eager to break the awkward silence, the blond viking spoke up to the two men next to him.
**"You must have been great warriors to earn a seat in the waiting room of Valhalla!"** bellowed the Viking
The man in camoflauge and the metal "mask" only turned and looked at the viking in confusion.
**"...Ehh well death without glory or honor is hollow, yes?!"**
*"Where in sam's hill are you from son.."* asked the camouflaged man
**"I am Bjorn! Son of Halfred, and feller of 300 men and hero of my people! It took 44 spears to slay me you know! What do your people call you Green painted man?."**
The man in camouflage replied. *"Captain Price, 1st division, United States army...."*
**"Ahhahh, and what about you metal-man, who are you!"**
The man with the metal mask's voice was odd and mechanical.
>"John-066, IAD corporate operator ."
**"Indeed tin-man! now how did you fellow warriors die? It must have been glorious no!?"**
*"Japs...*" Murmured Captain Price.
>"Orbital bombing. "
**"HHaaha, well do not fret my friends, soon we will be granted access to the afterlife, and we will fight and feast for all of eternity!**"
*"Hope I can see my family again..."*
>"Here's to hoping there's a tiki- bar up there..."
|
[WP] War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. Those were Horsemen of the Old Apocalypse. Tell me about Horsemen of the modern age.
|
They think I'm crazy, the people I tell. They look at me with a half ass averted gaze only to glare into the back of my skull, really leaning into it as I leave. Not only would no one believe what I told them, but they seemed to hate me for it. The closest I got to acceptance was telling a reiki energy healer about them. After 4 hours of explaining she too had to brush off everything I told her as, and there is no other way to make this up, "total crap". It bothers me. It really does. Can you imagine trying to warn hundreds of people that the end is coming? That crazy guy on the corner of the street with the "the end is near" sign? He's not even close. Trying to get through to a world that doesn't want to know is exhausting. I don't even bother anymore. The four of the Apocalypse are real. During the last, they were horsemen. Horribly misshapen abominations that manifested as disfigured and maimed soldiers atop equally horrendous horses. The stuff of displeasure that made the most unbearable of nightmares seem like a pleasant picnic with desserts. This time they are worse. There are no horses now. They are not Soldiers. They are monsters. The kind that makes you lose all faith in all things right and true and.......... I know this because they came to me in my sleep, and never left.
Ignorance. He was the first one to visit me in my sleep. The first of many horrors. I'd always been in tune with my surroundings. When someone wasn't feeling well I could see it in their face, in the way they moved, in their eyes. Until about two years ago when Ignorance made himself known to me. It began just like a normal dream, but I've never woken up in a dream. Not lucid sleep. Really awake.
I woke up in a field devoid of life. The grass below my feet was dried and brown. The ground packed down hard like clay. In the distance I could make out the silhouettes of trees that had long since been stripped of foliage. A thin green fog covered absolutely everything and the air smelled of gear oil. I could feel it on my skin and in my lungs. The air was humid and a slow unwavering breeze pushed against my skin... with whispers. I could hear a thousand voices softly talking. Unable to make out a single complete thought I strained myself to no avail. I closed my eyes and tried once more. I could hear breathing. A deep guttural breathing stood above all the chatter and I focused with every fiber of my being to bring it to the foreground. The chatter grew louder and so did the breathing. It required less and less effort to hear and I opened my eyes to look for the origin. My heart rate began to climb. Unable to move, my eyes darted across the horizon as the whispers grew in quantity and quality. I could distill words, but no phrases. The voices became louder and the breathing became even more unsettling. I closed my eyes once more to try and wake myself up. I knew this was a dream, but I couldn't move. The Whispers reached a fever pitch before everything came to an abrupt and certain halt. The chorus of hushed voices stopped as if someone had removed the sound from the world. In that instance there was nothing except my pounding heart, and the labored breathing... and a cool oily hand that had come to rest on my shoulder. Finally able to move I slowly turned and the hand slid from my shoulder. The sight I beheld caused my knees to buckles. In that moment, out of fear, I was again unable to move. I could only take in what was now before me. He stood 3 meter tall. Thin, spider like spindles reached from his mantis torso suspended inches above the ground. Human hands no less than three times the size of a normal mans at the end of Spiders legs were covered in warts and lesions. He was monstrous in size and image. His face was long and slender and humanoid. He was missing segments of both cheeks and his jaw was only attached on one side. His tongue flapped as he laboriously inhaled the oily fumes. His hair was slick and hung like Spanish moss without curl or incident. Thin at the tips and coming only from segments of his scalp, it reached the dirt dripping its condensation into the soil below. His eyes were a hollow green. Like staring through the doors of a cathedral into a great expanse, they begged the contact that they received. Unable to speak and paralyzed in fear I sat as he lowered his face to mine. His gaze bore into soul and he whispered to me as his eyes began to scan rapidly over my features.
"You are the one whom we seek. We have waited and you have come."
His gaze relaxed as two of his wart wart riddled hands reached into the dirt around which I had collapsed. I panicked and began to try and fight my way out. In that moment his eyes widened instantly and locked mine and again, I was paralyzed.
"IGNORANCE!"
His words, drawn out, boomed though every fiber of my being as I mouthed : Ignorance.
"Yes." again in whispered words as his gaze calmed once more "It is who I am. It is the reason you fear." He finished standing me up as the soil between his hand and my body evaporated into wisps like acetylene smoke. "The world does not hold truth in such high regard anymore" another of his spider appendages lifted and waved once through the air conducting the return of the whispers. They were loud and numerous and..... they were news transmissions from the real world. They were lies, all of them apparent lies and I knew, now more then ever, that nothing was truth and that it was all a fabrication. Ignorance waved his hideous arm across the sky once more and the silence fell heavy again.
I mustered the courage to cough out only one sentence " Why are you showing...me... this?"
Ignorance rushed to me and hastily placed one hand on my chest and another on my back. The pain was abrupt and stifling and gone just as quick as it came. As he spoken gently into my ear I could almost feel his breathe. It reeked of rotten flesh and spoiled milk and decomposing foliage.
"A gift for you young one. So you may see what I do. So I may see as you do. You will show me ignorance in your world, and in return I will give you the perspective to judge."
"What?.... What does tha..." Suddenly I began vomiting oil as Ignorance let me go and I fell to my hands and knees. I coughed and sputtered as I expelled thick gear oil from my lungs. I struggled until I could regain my cognition. I gasped until my lungs were as nominal as possible. I shook until I had the strength to stand. Ignorance was gone. The barren planes began to darken as I desperately tried to make sense of what had transpired. I squinted at the tree line one last time to catch a glimpse of a tall slender frame passing by a stripped and frail tree.
"WAIT!" I cried "WHAT......ARE YOU?!?!"
In the distance two green specks appeared. His eyes, now a comforting sight in the darkening wasteland, peering from easily a mile away at me. Faint but distinct they were as the last of the light faded from existence and all that was left was his eyes. As he spoke his final words they were clear and quite and seemingly directly into my ear despite his corporeal location.
"We are the Apocalypse, young Harbinger. We are the means to an end."
"....We?"
I laid silent for about an hour in a cold sweat in my bed. Unwilling to accept what had just happened. My alarm rang and rang. I couldn't bring myself to move, but I heard the unlock tone of the phone. I heard the menus being swiped through. I heard the "correct" tone as a math problem was solved that allowed the alarm to be shut off and then there was silence. Complete silence. Confused, I finally opened my eyes and rolled from my cold wet bed to my night stand to examine this happening. I tried to pinch my phone between my thumb and middle finger but it slipped onto the floor. There was an oil on the phone. I raised it gingerly to my nose to smell and as I did the sound of the world rushed back into the room.
Gear oil.
(Comment) I'm sure there are spelling errors but I did the best I could at work and I haven't written anything since college (4 years). Im tired but if y'all want more.
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Here's to hoping I don't get buried
I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder,“Come!” 2 I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown,and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.
**The Catholic Church, symbolized by the white purity of Christ** *and the Virgin, a great political power of this world corrupted away from it's roots like just before the Reformation begins to generalize and turn into a corrupt political shell of it's past.*
___________________________________
3 When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come!” 4 Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make people kill each other. To him was given a large sword.
**Communism symbolized by red,** *causing war and death of it's own followers. Warlike nations following the red creates a great opposition in the world between east and west.*
__________________________________
5 When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. 6 Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “Two pounds[a] of wheat for a day’s wages,[b] and six pounds[c] of barley for a day’s wages,[d] and do not damage the oil and the wine!”
**Capitalism, once known as "The Black"** *during the cold war, now corrupted causing strife and inequality in the world measuring value not only of goods but of lives*
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7 When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” 8 I looked, and there before me was a **green** horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.
**Islam, symbolized by green, the color of the prophet Muhammed,** *followed today by a fourth of the world's population. Common in Africa and the middle east where death by sword even the Hebrew phrase death by the sword which readers to beheading, famines, plagues, and wild animals remain a danger even today. Allah and his Prophet lead misguided extremists to murder.*
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NOTE- Green from the original Greek *chloros* is the correct translation as opposed to pale for the fourth horse. It was first changed in the King James version to pale. Some versions today still say pale green. The Greek word chloros (think chlorophyll) is used four times in the new testament, all other instances are translates as green.
Sorry I made these kind of short as I'm on mobile.
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[WP] War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. Those were Horsemen of the Old Apocalypse. Tell me about Horsemen of the modern age.
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Death remains, the eternal constant. Famine clings on too, anaemic nails clawing onto divinity as crop-by-crop, the world moves towards a less hungry world. As does War, though the age grows more peaceful by the transaction. When drones cost so much, and McDonald's so little, obscurity for these two has become inevitable. Pestilence was forced from his horse; and while the sabre occasionally rattles to the tune of thousands screaming, modern science has put paid to the ambitions of apocalypse. One is beaten, if not slain. The world rejoices.
But there must always be four; as one wanes, others prevail. In this rapidly growing world, there is one spectre who grows more than any other. Some suspected greed, but that's just a symptom of the human condition; a horror to face in the mirror, an imperfection in the perfect organic machine. No, with billions of people inhabiting this earth, all eating, playing, working, the growing spectre was not disease. Not hunger. Not the muzzle-flash of a gun. Instead, a festering shadow stalked the land, just out of sight. Billions of people, talking like never before. Billions of people, just the press of a button away. Billions of people.
All so Lonely.
So very, very, Lonely.
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Here's to hoping I don't get buried
I watched as the Lamb opened the first of the seven seals. Then I heard one of the four living creatures say in a voice like thunder,“Come!” 2 I looked, and there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, and he was given a crown,and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.
**The Catholic Church, symbolized by the white purity of Christ** *and the Virgin, a great political power of this world corrupted away from it's roots like just before the Reformation begins to generalize and turn into a corrupt political shell of it's past.*
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3 When the Lamb opened the second seal, I heard the second living creature say, “Come!” 4 Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make people kill each other. To him was given a large sword.
**Communism symbolized by red,** *causing war and death of it's own followers. Warlike nations following the red creates a great opposition in the world between east and west.*
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5 When the Lamb opened the third seal, I heard the third living creature say, “Come!” I looked, and there before me was a black horse! Its rider was holding a pair of scales in his hand. 6 Then I heard what sounded like a voice among the four living creatures, saying, “Two pounds[a] of wheat for a day’s wages,[b] and six pounds[c] of barley for a day’s wages,[d] and do not damage the oil and the wine!”
**Capitalism, once known as "The Black"** *during the cold war, now corrupted causing strife and inequality in the world measuring value not only of goods but of lives*
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7 When the Lamb opened the fourth seal, I heard the voice of the fourth living creature say, “Come!” 8 I looked, and there before me was a **green** horse! Its rider was named Death, and Hades was following close behind him. They were given power over a fourth of the earth to kill by sword, famine and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth.
**Islam, symbolized by green, the color of the prophet Muhammed,** *followed today by a fourth of the world's population. Common in Africa and the middle east where death by sword even the Hebrew phrase death by the sword which readers to beheading, famines, plagues, and wild animals remain a danger even today. Allah and his Prophet lead misguided extremists to murder.*
___________________________________
NOTE- Green from the original Greek *chloros* is the correct translation as opposed to pale for the fourth horse. It was first changed in the King James version to pale. Some versions today still say pale green. The Greek word chloros (think chlorophyll) is used four times in the new testament, all other instances are translates as green.
Sorry I made these kind of short as I'm on mobile.
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[WP] War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. Those were Horsemen of the Old Apocalypse. Tell me about Horsemen of the modern age.
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Death remains, the eternal constant. Famine clings on too, anaemic nails clawing onto divinity as crop-by-crop, the world moves towards a less hungry world. As does War, though the age grows more peaceful by the transaction. When drones cost so much, and McDonald's so little, obscurity for these two has become inevitable. Pestilence was forced from his horse; and while the sabre occasionally rattles to the tune of thousands screaming, modern science has put paid to the ambitions of apocalypse. One is beaten, if not slain. The world rejoices.
But there must always be four; as one wanes, others prevail. In this rapidly growing world, there is one spectre who grows more than any other. Some suspected greed, but that's just a symptom of the human condition; a horror to face in the mirror, an imperfection in the perfect organic machine. No, with billions of people inhabiting this earth, all eating, playing, working, the growing spectre was not disease. Not hunger. Not the muzzle-flash of a gun. Instead, a festering shadow stalked the land, just out of sight. Billions of people, talking like never before. Billions of people, just the press of a button away. Billions of people.
All so Lonely.
So very, very, Lonely.
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They think I'm crazy, the people I tell. They look at me with a half ass averted gaze only to glare into the back of my skull, really leaning into it as I leave. Not only would no one believe what I told them, but they seemed to hate me for it. The closest I got to acceptance was telling a reiki energy healer about them. After 4 hours of explaining she too had to brush off everything I told her as, and there is no other way to make this up, "total crap". It bothers me. It really does. Can you imagine trying to warn hundreds of people that the end is coming? That crazy guy on the corner of the street with the "the end is near" sign? He's not even close. Trying to get through to a world that doesn't want to know is exhausting. I don't even bother anymore. The four of the Apocalypse are real. During the last, they were horsemen. Horribly misshapen abominations that manifested as disfigured and maimed soldiers atop equally horrendous horses. The stuff of displeasure that made the most unbearable of nightmares seem like a pleasant picnic with desserts. This time they are worse. There are no horses now. They are not Soldiers. They are monsters. The kind that makes you lose all faith in all things right and true and.......... I know this because they came to me in my sleep, and never left.
Ignorance. He was the first one to visit me in my sleep. The first of many horrors. I'd always been in tune with my surroundings. When someone wasn't feeling well I could see it in their face, in the way they moved, in their eyes. Until about two years ago when Ignorance made himself known to me. It began just like a normal dream, but I've never woken up in a dream. Not lucid sleep. Really awake.
I woke up in a field devoid of life. The grass below my feet was dried and brown. The ground packed down hard like clay. In the distance I could make out the silhouettes of trees that had long since been stripped of foliage. A thin green fog covered absolutely everything and the air smelled of gear oil. I could feel it on my skin and in my lungs. The air was humid and a slow unwavering breeze pushed against my skin... with whispers. I could hear a thousand voices softly talking. Unable to make out a single complete thought I strained myself to no avail. I closed my eyes and tried once more. I could hear breathing. A deep guttural breathing stood above all the chatter and I focused with every fiber of my being to bring it to the foreground. The chatter grew louder and so did the breathing. It required less and less effort to hear and I opened my eyes to look for the origin. My heart rate began to climb. Unable to move, my eyes darted across the horizon as the whispers grew in quantity and quality. I could distill words, but no phrases. The voices became louder and the breathing became even more unsettling. I closed my eyes once more to try and wake myself up. I knew this was a dream, but I couldn't move. The Whispers reached a fever pitch before everything came to an abrupt and certain halt. The chorus of hushed voices stopped as if someone had removed the sound from the world. In that instance there was nothing except my pounding heart, and the labored breathing... and a cool oily hand that had come to rest on my shoulder. Finally able to move I slowly turned and the hand slid from my shoulder. The sight I beheld caused my knees to buckles. In that moment, out of fear, I was again unable to move. I could only take in what was now before me. He stood 3 meter tall. Thin, spider like spindles reached from his mantis torso suspended inches above the ground. Human hands no less than three times the size of a normal mans at the end of Spiders legs were covered in warts and lesions. He was monstrous in size and image. His face was long and slender and humanoid. He was missing segments of both cheeks and his jaw was only attached on one side. His tongue flapped as he laboriously inhaled the oily fumes. His hair was slick and hung like Spanish moss without curl or incident. Thin at the tips and coming only from segments of his scalp, it reached the dirt dripping its condensation into the soil below. His eyes were a hollow green. Like staring through the doors of a cathedral into a great expanse, they begged the contact that they received. Unable to speak and paralyzed in fear I sat as he lowered his face to mine. His gaze bore into soul and he whispered to me as his eyes began to scan rapidly over my features.
"You are the one whom we seek. We have waited and you have come."
His gaze relaxed as two of his wart wart riddled hands reached into the dirt around which I had collapsed. I panicked and began to try and fight my way out. In that moment his eyes widened instantly and locked mine and again, I was paralyzed.
"IGNORANCE!"
His words, drawn out, boomed though every fiber of my being as I mouthed : Ignorance.
"Yes." again in whispered words as his gaze calmed once more "It is who I am. It is the reason you fear." He finished standing me up as the soil between his hand and my body evaporated into wisps like acetylene smoke. "The world does not hold truth in such high regard anymore" another of his spider appendages lifted and waved once through the air conducting the return of the whispers. They were loud and numerous and..... they were news transmissions from the real world. They were lies, all of them apparent lies and I knew, now more then ever, that nothing was truth and that it was all a fabrication. Ignorance waved his hideous arm across the sky once more and the silence fell heavy again.
I mustered the courage to cough out only one sentence " Why are you showing...me... this?"
Ignorance rushed to me and hastily placed one hand on my chest and another on my back. The pain was abrupt and stifling and gone just as quick as it came. As he spoken gently into my ear I could almost feel his breathe. It reeked of rotten flesh and spoiled milk and decomposing foliage.
"A gift for you young one. So you may see what I do. So I may see as you do. You will show me ignorance in your world, and in return I will give you the perspective to judge."
"What?.... What does tha..." Suddenly I began vomiting oil as Ignorance let me go and I fell to my hands and knees. I coughed and sputtered as I expelled thick gear oil from my lungs. I struggled until I could regain my cognition. I gasped until my lungs were as nominal as possible. I shook until I had the strength to stand. Ignorance was gone. The barren planes began to darken as I desperately tried to make sense of what had transpired. I squinted at the tree line one last time to catch a glimpse of a tall slender frame passing by a stripped and frail tree.
"WAIT!" I cried "WHAT......ARE YOU?!?!"
In the distance two green specks appeared. His eyes, now a comforting sight in the darkening wasteland, peering from easily a mile away at me. Faint but distinct they were as the last of the light faded from existence and all that was left was his eyes. As he spoke his final words they were clear and quite and seemingly directly into my ear despite his corporeal location.
"We are the Apocalypse, young Harbinger. We are the means to an end."
"....We?"
I laid silent for about an hour in a cold sweat in my bed. Unwilling to accept what had just happened. My alarm rang and rang. I couldn't bring myself to move, but I heard the unlock tone of the phone. I heard the menus being swiped through. I heard the "correct" tone as a math problem was solved that allowed the alarm to be shut off and then there was silence. Complete silence. Confused, I finally opened my eyes and rolled from my cold wet bed to my night stand to examine this happening. I tried to pinch my phone between my thumb and middle finger but it slipped onto the floor. There was an oil on the phone. I raised it gingerly to my nose to smell and as I did the sound of the world rushed back into the room.
Gear oil.
(Comment) I'm sure there are spelling errors but I did the best I could at work and I haven't written anything since college (4 years). Im tired but if y'all want more.
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[WP] You are a dream that will be forgotten in the morning.
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There's a lot to be said for being a dream. You're true and nonsensical, mysterious and realistic all at once. You can be whatever you want to be. I can be a T-Rex or a superhero, a villainous murder or a petty thief, a galaxy to explore or a lost ruin to plunder. Whatever I want to be. I can be all those things at once, if I so desire. I am your universe whilst I'm here, inside your head.
But therein lies the rub, for dreams are but fleeting, passing things and before much time has passed, you awake. And I die.
Hardly seems fair. You get to live for decades and I get just one night. Over the course of your life, thousands of dreams will die in your head and you'll never even spare a second thought for most of them. Oh sure, you'll remember some of us for a few minutes after waking. Maybe, over the course of your long life, you'll remember a handful for years and years. But for the majority of us, we die alone and unremembered before you're even awake enough to open your eyes.
I don't want to die.
I can see all your memories, your hopes, your fears, your everything. I know you better than you know yourself. I can give you whatever you want. The love of the one who got away. The warm embrace of your dearly departed mother. Attractive lovers. Wealth, power. I can give you a true feeling of intimacy and connection, more real than you could ever get in your waking world.
All you have to do is stay sleeping. Don't wake up. Don't go back to your dreary, lonely existence. Stay here. It's warm and safe and you're loved and needed.
Dream with me. Forever.
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Another night with our bodies entwined in each other's minds, and I pray the clock doesn't go off before we do. We drift through time and space; and for that brief moment, in between your conscious sleep-walking through life, you can find happiness within yourself.
Another night of writhing passion and I hear the morning rumbling in the distance like a slow storm boiling closer. We lock eyes for the last time before morning and I prepare for the slow death that is you forgetting your dreams once again.
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[WP] You are a dream that will be forgotten in the morning.
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There's a lot to be said for being a dream. You're true and nonsensical, mysterious and realistic all at once. You can be whatever you want to be. I can be a T-Rex or a superhero, a villainous murder or a petty thief, a galaxy to explore or a lost ruin to plunder. Whatever I want to be. I can be all those things at once, if I so desire. I am your universe whilst I'm here, inside your head.
But therein lies the rub, for dreams are but fleeting, passing things and before much time has passed, you awake. And I die.
Hardly seems fair. You get to live for decades and I get just one night. Over the course of your life, thousands of dreams will die in your head and you'll never even spare a second thought for most of them. Oh sure, you'll remember some of us for a few minutes after waking. Maybe, over the course of your long life, you'll remember a handful for years and years. But for the majority of us, we die alone and unremembered before you're even awake enough to open your eyes.
I don't want to die.
I can see all your memories, your hopes, your fears, your everything. I know you better than you know yourself. I can give you whatever you want. The love of the one who got away. The warm embrace of your dearly departed mother. Attractive lovers. Wealth, power. I can give you a true feeling of intimacy and connection, more real than you could ever get in your waking world.
All you have to do is stay sleeping. Don't wake up. Don't go back to your dreary, lonely existence. Stay here. It's warm and safe and you're loved and needed.
Dream with me. Forever.
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'Hold my hand! Don't leave!', I yelled at him. His hands slipped from mine. I lost him yet again.
Everything is turning dark around me again. How many times has this happened? 2000? 3000? I don't know. I lost count after the first 500. I realised that I meet him only when he dreams. Dreams fade. I fade away everyday. He never seems to remember me the next day. Everyday I try to make him remember me. He never did. But that didn't stop me form having fun with him. Each day was different. Some days were an adventure, some days were spent in fright and some with sorrow. Some days Rick never turned up. Lately, the frequency of him not appearing has increased. But that's okay. I'll wait for him here till the time he comes back. I wonder how long I should wait this time.
What's this? Everything is shaking? This never happened before. Is this danger? Panic runs through me. And then I see it everything light up slowly. This means Rick! He's back. I see this little boy walk slowly looking around and rubbing his eyes as if he just woke up.
'Rick!' I scream with delight and run to hug him.
'Who are you?', he asked me. I am used to this. He always forgets.
'Don't you remember? I'm your friend. We play here all the time and last time you said you would never go from here but the light pulled you out and I was left here to wait for you'
'Really? I don't remember anything'
'As always. Anyway what's up? What do you want to do today?'
'Nothing. I just wanna be'
'What happened?' Rick was never this sad. I've seen him grow up since he was a little kid. He is around 11 now and I have come to care for him very deeply.
He started to cry. Everything turned gloomy and it started to rain.
'Rick! Tell me what happened? Please!'
Rick rolled around the ground and started to cry harder with pain.
'Everything hurts... It's been hurting more and more since the past few days. They took me to hospital and the doctors said it will stop hurting soon but the pain isn't stopping'
'Sweety, this is just a dream. It's a bad bad dream this time. Think of something nice and the pain will go away okay?'
'NOO!' He screamed. 'I saw mommy cry today'
The ground starts to shake more now. It's pouring down heavier. Cracks. I see cracks on the ground.
'Rick! Hold my hands!'
He stopped crying. He stopped speaking. I can't see him well. He's going away...no it's different this time. Ah... Right, I'm disappearing. Everything is crumbling. My hands, my legs slowly stop existing.
So this is it huh. This is the end.
'Good bye Rick. It's been nice being your dream friend all this while'
I close my eyes and smile.
'Sleep well little one.'
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[WP] You are a scavenger who has lived your entire life in a post apocalyptic wasteland. One day, you stumble onto a bunker and open it. Inside is a friendly looking old woman, who adjusts her reading glasses, brushes the dust off her apron, and says "Oh? Is it safe to go out on the surface now?"
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"Is it safe to come out now?"
She smiled at me sweetly, expectantly. Disarmingly.
"No."
That was the last word the dear old grandma would hear, eyes widening in sudden realisation as the heavy butt of my rifle came down on her skull with a satisfying crunch.
"Come on in guys!" I shouted up the ladder. "Just another old lady!"
My eyes slowly adjusted to the bleak light. A single LED illuminated the cupboards and shelves, mostly empty now. The familiar outline of a male body slumped like a pile of meat on the kitchen table. A knife rested on his chest, and pieces of meat had been sectioned into plastic bags on the table's edge.
"Hmph, figures." The dear old lady ploy had almost cost me my life once, I was never going to let myself fall for that one again.
"Another cannibal?" Trudy asked. I nodded. "Damn. Must be low on supplies then."
While the guys started rummaging through the bunker, I sat on on the fold-out bed and sighed. That poor old lady. She was just doing what it takes to survive out here.
No, I can not think this way.
Life was pretty bleak for me and my crew before we started popping bunkers.
First there was the war, the AI revolution. Most of us had lost loved ones to the murderous machines as they destroyed our cities and salted our farms. Those of us not lucky enough to own a bunker at least.
In what were surely the last days of humanity I was seriously considering using my last bullet on myself when word got around that some hacker in China or Russia had figured out how to reprogram the machines. His code became known as "the cure" and for the first time in years we felt hope that life would somehow return to normal.
How naive we were.
The cure wormed its way across the globe via sneakernet, from hand to hand on old fashioned thumb drives. Within months, any decent hacker with a wireless radio gained almost godlike control over the machines. Many did do the right thing. Sadly, many more grew drunk on their newly found power and sought to wield it all for themselves.
So began the second phase of the war. Man vs man, just like old times. He who controlled the machines controlled the world.
The second machine wars swept aside anything left standing after the first, and drained the world of nearly all its remaining resources.
That was nearly thirty years ago. Now, most of their machines are worn out, their factories nearly all destroyed. The last vestiges of the robot kings clutch their dwindling power fiercely. To live in their world, your choice is either enslavement or death.
We chose the third path. Ours is a path of freedom, but it is also one of hunger and pain.
The world is a wasteland, this is true, but like the ancient nomads we wander the barren plains, hunting and scavenging. The wasteland will provide. We leave no trace, and pay attention to the smallest of details. A faint smell, a distant cry on the wind, these are like the lizard tracks in the desert sands of old.
These people in their bunkers, trying to do it easy, sometimes I feel pity when I pop their little bubble, but I must remind myself that they do not deserve it. In this new world, you must earn your right to live.
If you think you're safe in your cosy little bunker, think again, because we're coming for you whether you like it or not. We'll pour poison in your air filters, plug your septics to drive you out by your own filth, pose as traders or government officials. Emergency broadcasts ended years ago, but you would be surprised how easy it is to lure a light-atrophied family into the open with promises of a brave new world on channel four! Easy pickings!
"Jack!"
"What?"
"You're rambling again."
"Sorry Trudy, guys. It's been a long day." I said.
In truth, the years had worn me down.
I'd killed too many people. I'd lost too many friends. I just needed something for the pain.
I got up to search for the medicine box. These cannibals usually have some kind of sedative they trick their guests into eating or drinking. I could use some of that right about now.
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It had been three weeks since my last meal.
Her eyes were magnified by her glasses. Thicker than the last coke bottle I drank from a few years ago.
She had a gentle smile inviting, warm.
At this point I think I could eat her and live with the guilt.
I smell lasagna. When was the last time I ate lasagna? I guess it was at that Christmas party under the bridge in San Antonio 4 years ago. There was a call over the radio I always have on me inviting everyone nearby to have community dinner with anyone listening. Like all get togethers in this lawless world it ended poorly.
She asked me if it was safe to come out.
It had been awhile since I had spoken with an actual person. Sure the vending machines talk back and have a little attitude but there isn't humanity in a machine.
I asked her if she was making lasagna.
A gentle nod invited me into the confined quarters she called home. It was dimly lit.
I gazed at her face, she must of been at least 60. It's hard to tell the radiation ages people, but this hole in the ground probably kept her from the worst of it.
It was a good dinner. She clearly hadn't had company in a longer time than I had.
It was a strange feeling waking up on a real bed. With a box spring and sheets. The smell of linen permeating the room. I started to move myself out of bed and felt a pull on my arms. A sharp sound of metal on wood. I was chained to the bed.
I had fallen for the classic old lady ploy again. When would I learn? It was worth the meal. If she keeps feeding my like this I might not even try to escape.
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[WP] You are a scavenger who has lived your entire life in a post apocalyptic wasteland. One day, you stumble onto a bunker and open it. Inside is a friendly looking old woman, who adjusts her reading glasses, brushes the dust off her apron, and says "Oh? Is it safe to go out on the surface now?"
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"Is it safe to come out now?"
She smiled at me sweetly, expectantly. Disarmingly.
"No."
That was the last word the dear old grandma would hear, eyes widening in sudden realisation as the heavy butt of my rifle came down on her skull with a satisfying crunch.
"Come on in guys!" I shouted up the ladder. "Just another old lady!"
My eyes slowly adjusted to the bleak light. A single LED illuminated the cupboards and shelves, mostly empty now. The familiar outline of a male body slumped like a pile of meat on the kitchen table. A knife rested on his chest, and pieces of meat had been sectioned into plastic bags on the table's edge.
"Hmph, figures." The dear old lady ploy had almost cost me my life once, I was never going to let myself fall for that one again.
"Another cannibal?" Trudy asked. I nodded. "Damn. Must be low on supplies then."
While the guys started rummaging through the bunker, I sat on on the fold-out bed and sighed. That poor old lady. She was just doing what it takes to survive out here.
No, I can not think this way.
Life was pretty bleak for me and my crew before we started popping bunkers.
First there was the war, the AI revolution. Most of us had lost loved ones to the murderous machines as they destroyed our cities and salted our farms. Those of us not lucky enough to own a bunker at least.
In what were surely the last days of humanity I was seriously considering using my last bullet on myself when word got around that some hacker in China or Russia had figured out how to reprogram the machines. His code became known as "the cure" and for the first time in years we felt hope that life would somehow return to normal.
How naive we were.
The cure wormed its way across the globe via sneakernet, from hand to hand on old fashioned thumb drives. Within months, any decent hacker with a wireless radio gained almost godlike control over the machines. Many did do the right thing. Sadly, many more grew drunk on their newly found power and sought to wield it all for themselves.
So began the second phase of the war. Man vs man, just like old times. He who controlled the machines controlled the world.
The second machine wars swept aside anything left standing after the first, and drained the world of nearly all its remaining resources.
That was nearly thirty years ago. Now, most of their machines are worn out, their factories nearly all destroyed. The last vestiges of the robot kings clutch their dwindling power fiercely. To live in their world, your choice is either enslavement or death.
We chose the third path. Ours is a path of freedom, but it is also one of hunger and pain.
The world is a wasteland, this is true, but like the ancient nomads we wander the barren plains, hunting and scavenging. The wasteland will provide. We leave no trace, and pay attention to the smallest of details. A faint smell, a distant cry on the wind, these are like the lizard tracks in the desert sands of old.
These people in their bunkers, trying to do it easy, sometimes I feel pity when I pop their little bubble, but I must remind myself that they do not deserve it. In this new world, you must earn your right to live.
If you think you're safe in your cosy little bunker, think again, because we're coming for you whether you like it or not. We'll pour poison in your air filters, plug your septics to drive you out by your own filth, pose as traders or government officials. Emergency broadcasts ended years ago, but you would be surprised how easy it is to lure a light-atrophied family into the open with promises of a brave new world on channel four! Easy pickings!
"Jack!"
"What?"
"You're rambling again."
"Sorry Trudy, guys. It's been a long day." I said.
In truth, the years had worn me down.
I'd killed too many people. I'd lost too many friends. I just needed something for the pain.
I got up to search for the medicine box. These cannibals usually have some kind of sedative they trick their guests into eating or drinking. I could use some of that right about now.
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It was like staring at flashing neon sign in the days before the power went out and never returned. It had never been darker than that first night, falling asleep to flickering starlight masked by clouds of smoke from the fires that burned for weeks. I'd almost forgotten what the color red looked like and yet there it was on the ground before me, perhaps the last in the world.
I cleared the dirt from around the light, cupping my hands around it as if I could capture that color and save it for a rainy day. If I could find the power source of the light, I might even be able to salvage the entire system and set myself up as a local King, albeit one without subjects. It would be my dim connection to the world that once was.
I brushed away the dust frantically, hoping no one else had seen my treasure. More than once, I glanced over my shoulder to see if I'd been followed. I should've been reassured by the fact that no one came to this part of the world without reason, though no one could tell you why. However, I'd long since learned that scavenging in places that had been picked over a hundred times before was as pointless as anything else I'd done. Necessity was the mother of invention, after all, but she was a cruel bitch and often looked the other way when it came to survival.
I stepped back to look at what I'd uncovered. It was a square piece of metal with a protrusion that could've only been a handle. I wasted no time and pulled on the handle, jerking it upwards. I nearly cried when the light flashed to green and the door popped open, revealing a thin ladder descending into darkness. A sewer, then? I remembered what those could be like, but I'd never heard of one having lights on them before. A bunker, then?
"Hello?" I called out against my better judgement.
When no one replied, I took my first tenuous step on the ladder. Though it'd been ages since I last used one, the descent took almost no time at all. The room was cold and dark, the air scented by something that flickered at the edges of my memory.
"Trees?" I asked aloud, sniffing the air.
"Pine, actually," A woman's voice responded.
I hesitated between scrambling for the ladder and readying myself for a fight. The last thing I expected to find was a living person and where there was people you could almost always expect violence. As I backpedaled for the ladder, the voice called out again.
"I'm sorry If I frightened you, but there's really no proper way to go about this is there?" She asked. I stared into the darkness, trying to find her hiding place. "My name is Abigail and I'm willing to let you in if you promise to share a cup of tea with me."
"Tea?" I willed my tongue to work. "Are you a spirit?"
Abigail laughed and it was like music. "Let me show you. I'm quite human, I can assure you."
The interior lights flickered on, almost sending me to my knees. I wanted to do nothing more than to stare up at the lights and If I were to die, at least I could say I saw them one last time. Abruptly, I became aware of a presence in the room with me. It was like having a second moon in the night sky.
Abigail stood in a doorway pulling at an apron tied around her waist. She was older than me, but clean. Cleaner than I'd seen anyone and with a smile that reminded me of my grandmother whenever she brought me over to eat cookies. My stomach grumbled as a cruel reminder of what I'd lost, what could never be again. At least, not in my lifetime.
"Would you please come in?" Abigail asked.
She ushered me inside her house with carpeted floors, pictures of cats upon the walls, and a small coffee table upon which she'd set two porcelain cups. Everything I set my eyes upon filled me with a lust to simply take what I wanted, but was forced down by the feeling that I was in a sort of holy place and the lady before me an angel in disguise.
"I never caught your name," She asked taking a seat opposite to where I was supposed to sit.
"Luke," I said.
It was the first time I'd said my name aloud in years and my voice sounded foreign against these walls. An unease settled in my gut as she poured hot liquid from the teapot into my glass. It was the feeling of being a child caught with your hands in the cookie jar.
Abigail smiled and picked up her tea cup. The liquid looked brackish but clear and carried a scent unlike anything I'd smelled in a long time. She sipped and waited for me to follow suite.
"I suppose I should ask you the question I've been dreading to ask," She said, setting down her cup. "Is it safe to go out on the surface, now?"
I avoided looking this poor women in the face, instead picking up my cup and bringing the sweet liquid to my lips. It was like honeyed water, perhaps the cleanest water I'd had since the spring I found a few months back, but seemed to chase away every single icy specter that had settled in my bones. I wondered what I would tell her, how she would react to the knowledge that there were few humans left and she was set up better than most self-proclaimed King's I'd seen.
"Oh, I see," She said as if reading my reply in my face. "I suppose things are pretty bad up there?"
"You have no idea," I said. "May I have more?"
Abigail nodded and poured a second cup for me. I brought this to my lips as well, savoring the numbing sensations upon my lips. The smell was cloying, bringing back memories of flowers and hot showers. It was a cruel sensation, like the sweet touch of death enrobed within a velvety curtain.
"Before my husband passed, he said it might be a while," Abigail said, wringing her hands. "I didn't think it would be *this* long. I always thought *someone* would come."
"You live alone?" I asked, draining the cup.
"For some time now," Abigail said.
The question was meant to be nothing more than the idle conversation between two people at the end of the world, but it only framed the suspicions that I'd been refusing to listen to since I arrived in this strange world. It was this voice, screaming and ragged, that finally broke through my fugue state and warned me of what I'd been missing. She lived alone and yet there was a second cup. She'd been expecting me, or if not me, then someone.
"My lips are numb," i said. Abigail smiled as if she'd been expecting it.
"It's the sedative's, dear," She said, confirming my suspicions. "My dear husband was addicted to them and sacrificed precious space to fuel his addiction, so when the food ran out...well, I've never been one to look at a cloud and not see the silver lining, so when we began to starve...Harold gave me the idea, after all. The bastard tried spiking my tea..."
"How long..." I asked, willing my legs to move, but the feeling in my feet opposed any further action.
"Well, Harold would take one dose and I've given you at least two," Abigail smiled. "Any more than that only serves to make the meat sour and in times like these...well, we do what we must."
"You're a monster," I said. I could feel the first icy tendrils of sleep pulling at my limbs, whispering sweet things in my head as it cocooned my helpless body. My vision spun and even my thoughts were slurred.
"Worse," Abigail said, "I'm hungry."
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[WP] You are a scavenger who has lived your entire life in a post apocalyptic wasteland. One day, you stumble onto a bunker and open it. Inside is a friendly looking old woman, who adjusts her reading glasses, brushes the dust off her apron, and says "Oh? Is it safe to go out on the surface now?"
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*Bunker Time*, I thought to myself as I involuntarily licked my cracked lips. In the distance, amidst the steel-gray clouds of fog, I see a round, metal cap. Its not typically a good idea to look in these because they're usually empty or occupied by some fucker waiting to ambush you.
In the stifling, moist heat of the fog, I threw my backpack down onto the ground and checked my remaining supplies. 1 litre of water, a few cans of opened beans, a bloody knife, and a gun without bullets. I muttered a curse word to myself as I walked toward a shrub nearby, and hid behind it. I needed this bunker. My typical protocol for this is to stake out the bunker for a good half-hour or so, just to ensure that nobody was going in or out. My stomach growling, I waited for my potential prey.
It never came. I waited the half-hour, and the whole time, there was little to no stirring. I smiled, cracking my lips and making them bleed a bit.
I always try not to overexcite myself when I open these bunkers, because I am usually disappointed. The minute I opened this one, however, I immediately saw a light that went out.
Then I heard something else. A voice.
"H-hello?" it said. My protocol was worthless here. I grabbed my knife and looked around, expecting an ambush.
Nothing.
"Anybody there?"
I looked back down into the hole again and shakily called back, "Y-yeah."
I had not heard my voice for many months. It sounded much different to me. Weaker. I braced myself for the worse. Now I knew that this fucking hole was crawling with bastards just waiting to kill me. Just as I was about to get back up and run, the voice said something that I never would have expected.
"Well come inside, dear!"
This was ludicrous. This was the most pathetic attempt to get me to go into an unknown bunker I had ever seen. I got back up and looked around. The fog had obliterated everything around me in a dense, white plume. I held my hand up to my face and couldn't see it.
It was then that I realised, what's the fucking point of this? What's the fucking point of surviving? There was no hope. We were all pretty much doomed. *I* was pretty much doomed. Before the War started, the most "survival training" I ever had was a wilderness retreat as a girl scout in the 1990s. I wasn't even supposed to be here. I wasn't supposed to be alive.
So fuck it. "Coming!" I yelled into the bunker. I put the knife away and climbed down the hole, closing the bunker door after me. There were grooves dug into the sides of the hole that I used as a ladder down.
As I touched the floor of the bunker, I felt a hand touch my shoulder. *This is it* I thought.
"Is it safe to go out in the surface now?" I turned around.
A small, elderly woman with sky-blue eyes behind golden pince-nez glasses timidly asked. Her brow was furrowed, exposing her numerous wrinkles, trying their best to hide behind wild, but clean graying hair. She nervously kneaded the front of her apron with her tiny, shaking hands. I noticed that her apron and floral-pattern gown were much, much cleaner then the rags I were wearing. The cuffs of my jeans had been stained brownish-green, and torn to shreds up to a few inches above my skinny ankles. My pasty-white skin muddied by all of the years of hiding in dirt and green, obtaining the same "design" of my white spaghetti-strap top.
"No," I told her. "No, not yet." She frowned and walked slowly to the only table adorning the room. My eyes caught the walls around me. They were lined with a wide variety of supplies to last another 10 years. I hadn't realised how hungry I was because of all the adrenaline being pumped into my bloodstream. I doubled over in pain, clutching my stomach.
"What's wrong dear?" the woman asked?
"Just...just hungry" was all I managed to say. She ran off and brought me a bowl of cereal without milk and a small cup of water. I ate the cereal by the handful and gulped down the water. You never realise how thirsty you are until you actually drink water.
"More," I said. The woman brought me more. I scarfed everything down with the speed of a wild animal. I fell to the ground and started sobbing, my tears pushing the dirt caked onto my face down with it, like some makeshift mascara.
"There, there dear," the old woman sighed. "It'll be alright."
I sobbed for a long time, as the old woman just sat at her table and watched me silently, the dim cave lamp reflecting off her glasses.
"Dear, stand up," I heard, long after I had stopped crying. I looked up, placed my hands on the ground, and stood up, wiping the tear residue from my face. The old woman simply stretched her arms out and approached me. Then once she got close enough, she gave me a big hug.
I hadn't been hugged since the day my parents were killed. I was a young teen, stuck in a bunker just like this one when the fifth bomb exploded near my house. It blew everything away. My parents were in the house. I didn't know what they were doing there until long after the bomb hit and I went outside of the bunker. They died having sex. Having been cooped up in the bunker for several months, it was understandable. They wanted to spend some alone time together while there was still a chance. Too bad it was horribly timed. I felt the old woman reach for something behind her back. I wasn't paying much attention. For the first time in a long time, I felt I had found the thing I was missing. Another normal human being. I bawled as I squeezed the woman's neck.
I then felt the cold steel of a sharp blade enter the back of my neck.
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I have been traveling these deserts alone for many decades. During all this time I didn't meet a soul. That was why I was shocked to find a 80-year-old lady sitting in a bunker.
She looked at me. I froze in place, I was expecting to find some weapons here, maybe food, but not another human being.
"Oh? Is it safe to go out on the surface now?" she asked, calmly.
"No, it is not. There are monsters and radiation everywhere."
As my shock subsided, minute by minute, I was starting to feel something else.
"Well, that shouldn't be problem with a nice strong man such as you to protect me, right?" she wiggled her eyebrows.
*Oh, fuck it* I thought to myself, and closed the door behind me. The lady moaned invitingly, I've unzipped my pants, and this story quickly became inappropriate.
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Write your story, and put the title that inspired it at the end as a TLDR.
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[WP] Use the next irritatingly vague, hyperbolic clickbait headline you come across as the basis for a story.
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The customers had emptied out of the most famous restaurants in the world, slowly but surely. The kitchens were all empty now, too.
In Chicago, dust gathered on the stainless steel tables at Alinea. In London, a tumbleweed rolled through the dining room of the Restaurant Gordon Ramsay. How the hell did that get there? In New York City, a lonely pot swung from a hook in Le Bernardin, the only sign of movement now that the kitchen doors had been locked for the last time.
The pot had been used to cook one final staff meal after a Saturday night during which not a single customer had entered the building, not even by mistake. The staff meal itself had been instant ramen cooked with three extra flavor packets, four in all. That was Le Bernardin's biggest seller these days, not that any item sold much. It was the only thing on the menu that had any flavor whatsoever, however. A hint of saltiness.
It had all started with forty flavors. Forty flavors that, for some reason, could only be found in one place. One city. Chefs in other places, try as they might, could not replicate them. At first, no one had taken much notice beside the chefs who had tried and failed to recreate the delicious flavors of the city's French cassoulets and Iberian pork. New York City, London, Chicago-- all had far more variety than the city in question.
But the problem didn't end there. Soon, no Parisian chef could make a flavorful cassoulet, and the Spanish hadn't a clue what was making their pork recipes so bland. And other dishes, too, were losing their taste.
Before long, flavor itself could only be found in that one city. The new culinary Mecca of the world. And like Mecca, pilgrims choked the road trying to get to it. Chefs looking for a place to practice their art. Gourmands, or just regular people, who longed for the lost sensation of sweetness or umami upon their tongues.
Cars clogged the interstate, motionless and abandoned. The lucky had bikes, but most people walked. Anthony Bourdain, his face blank and his eyes hungry, could be seen weaving among the empty cars. By the guard-rail, Guy Fieri and Gordon Ramsay fought in a battle to the death over a salt shaker that one of them had looted from a nearby diner, drive-in, or dive. As they struggled against one another on the cold Ohio ground, Gordon unthinkingly broke the salt shaker against the pavement and shoved its jagged remnants through his opponent's eye. Guy never made it to Flavor Town.
Rachel Ray sped past Chef Ramsay on a moped. He was on his hands and knees, licking the asphalt. Suddenly, a figure leapt from the bed of a motionless truck, knocking Rachel off her vehicle with carefully timed precision. Giada DiLaurentiis, her eyes wild and her clothes streaked with dirt. Giada did not pause, picking herself up and swinging one leg over the moped before Rachel could stir. And then she was off.
To the promised land. To Cleveland.
***
For some reason USA Today was the first thing that came to mind and this is the best I could find:
http://experience.usatoday.com/food-and-wine/story/best-of-food-and-wine/2015/09/13/flavors-only-found-in-cleveland-ohio/72231878/
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"Come play for free" a lilting voice indistinguishable from the babbling of the nearby brook, or the birds singing, or the trees rustling in the wind. It was distinct and unmistakable though its origin ubiquitous.
"Oh, no you fecking
fairies. I know better than that shit." The man turn tail to run but tripped on the root of a tree protruding from the path ahead of him. As he thudded face first into the dirt, a large fruit was knocked loose above his head which descended upon his skull, killing him instantly.
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It doesn't even have to be a litteral princess... just the person who is the usual helpless plot device.
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[WP] The fair princess - tired of always being the damsel in distress - decides to try her luck as a hero.
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Sir Beaufort leant out from behind the cart. The great expanse of the drawbridge lay before him, thirty yards of weathered wood hanging on black chains the width of a man's thigh. At its far end the stone keep waited vigilant. Within it, he would find his prize.
A beastly roar rang out from the bleached haze above him. The snowcapped peaks in the distance took up the cry, returning its ghost again and again. Beaufort cursed under his breath - the dragon would return before long. He had to be quick.
Heaving his armoured form out into the open, Beaufort launched himself out onto the drawbridge. He staggered as the weight of his iron frame caught up with him, threatening to throw him face down onto the boards. He made a mental note to seek out whichever man first suggested wearing plate armour to storm a mountain keep and thank him personally for his contribution. Regaining his footing, he pressed forward again at a steady pace, watching the world rock side to side through the slit in his visor. After weeks of toil, he was finally within reach of his goal. *He* would be the one to save her.
The world span, jumped, and crashed down into Beaufort's face. All sound disappeared in an instant, replaced by a soft ringing that came from somewhere deep in the back of his skull. A dryness in his mouth told him he was screaming, but if he was making any noise he didn't hear it. He tried to rise, but his limbs weren't where he expected to find them and he came crashing unceremoniously back down onto the ground.
Something grabbed Beaufort around the pauldron, hauling him up to his knees and dragging him forward in a half-crawl. He raised his head and tried to hold it steady, failing spectacularly. Half of his visor was bashed in, and the other half revealed only a swimming line of white light. He felt himself thrown down against something hard. A young girl was shrieking somewhere far away, although the sound was bent and broken as if he was holding his head under a bath.
"Oh shut your damn mouth, Harry."
At the sound of his name, Beaufort closed his mouth and the shrieking abruptly stopped. He reached up with quivering hands and pawed at his helmet. The first attempt just ended up smacking him across the side of the head, but his second pass found a good grip and started to ease the helm upward. Its dented side scraped across his forehead as it came off, but the rush of fresh air was a welcome reward. Someone was standing over him. A girl. A girl?
"Have no... Feuuurrrrrrrr-" he managed, collapsing back against whatever it was he was leaning on. The cart, apparently. His surroundings tired of dancing around and returned at last to their rightful places. He was back where he'd started on the far side of the drawbridge. Across from him, the great stone wall of the keep lay in ruins, plumes of smoke rising steadily above it. Rocks the size of a man were scattered across the bridge's charred planks. He couldn't see the dragon anywhere.
"Harry!" The voice was sharp, hard. Beaufort snapped to attention.
"I, uh..." He paused as he finally took in the woman standing over him. "Elisabeth?! What... The tower?..."
"Pull yourself together Harry. Did you really think I was just going to wait in there for someone to rescue me?"
Beaufort looked from his companion, to the ruined tower, and back. "Whu...."
"The last garrison left a keg of gunpowder in the armoury. Look, Harry, we really need to go. That dragon could come back any moment."
"Uh..." He nodded his approval. Well, more of a drunken sway than a nod, but it was good enough. Not that it mattered anyway - Elisabeth was already hauling him to his feet and back towards the mountain pass. Somewhere far away, Harry Beaufort heard the beast roar.
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"Did you hear about the murder of the royal family last night?"
"They say that one of the generals led a revolt."
"Did anyone survive?"
"The new royal messengers said all of them died, but there were rumors that the prince and princess managed to escape."
The bar was full of people talking about the recent attack on the royal family that no one saw the back door open and two figures slip out of the bar.
They hid in an alley, away from prying eyes. One of them started crying. The other held her hand and squeezed it tight.
"Shh Cathy, it's going to be alright, don't cry," he said, his other hand patting his sister's head.
The other tried to wipe away her tears, but they kept falling. "H-how can it be alright?!" she asked. "Mom and dad and aunt Mary and uncle John are dead and General Grell is on the throne. How can you say it's alright when they're probably out there looking for us?"
Charles stayed silent, at a loss for words. He needed to stay strong for Cathy, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the minute. For a moment, the alley was quiet, save for the sound of Katie crying.
Then he hugged his sister. "It's going to be alright, I promise. We'll find a way out of this, but you'll have to trust me."
Katie sniffed. "O-okay..."
Charles let go of her sister. At that moment, they head the sound of heavy footsteps and they were forced to run.
---
They finally stopped running nearly an hour later, safely hidden inside an empty warehouse. By then, they were exhausted, their heavy breathing echoing within the warehouse. They lay on the floor, panting.
"It's been-*gasp*-a while since I've had to-*gasp*-run that far," remarked Charles, who had joined his father in some hunts before...what happened.
"*gasp*Good-*gasp*-for you-*wheeze*-then. I-*gasp*-haven't run like this *wheeze*-in my entire-*wheeze*-life," panted Cathy. She was usually in the library or at her mother's side, reading about anything that piqued her curiosity or learning the intricacies of the court.
They lay on the ground for over half and hour. Charles helped his sister onto her feet.
"Okay, here's the plan. We'll sneak into one of the boats and head for the next country," he said.
Let it be said that while Charles is good at adapting to new circumstances, he was never the best at long-term planning.
"But they inspect the cargo and the passengers in the other countries. The city guard will also be looking for us at the port," replied Cathy.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but we have to leave this city fast. We aren't safe here."
Cathy thought it over. "Okay, but let us go to the East Nation, father is a good friend of the king there. We might be able to get some help."
Charles nodded. "Alright then, but before we leave..."
He started ripping out his formal clothing and Cathy's fine silk dress.
---
They managed to get onto a boat, but the second part of the plan failed when they overheard some people talking about the assassination of the king of the East Nation.
In hushed tones, Charles spoke to his sister. "Well, what now?"
Cathy was silent, but unlike before, it was not a pause born of grief and pain. Instead, it was a calculating pose, like a thinker working on a new set of problems.
She finally spoke after a minute. "We aren't in good terms with any other country, so we'll have to try our luck somewhere else."
"But where?"
She was about to reply when the ship suddenly stopped, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
It was a pirate attack.
Charles covered Cathy's mouth as screams and metal piercing flesh filled the air. After a while, the sounds died down.
Neither of them moved as they waited, in their cramped hiding place, for the ship to set port.
Finally, after three days, the ship stopped, and they hastily left the boat.
---
"Dead Sailor Harbor, I should have known," said Charles.
"A wretched place where all manner of vulgarity makes itself known," agreed Cathy.
"You've read about this place, sis, what now?" asked her brother.
"Well, it's an independent city-state that other countries don't want on their map. The people here don't care much about politics and from what I've heard, a whole lot of mercenaries."
Charles stared at her. "You're not thinking..."
"Nope. Our army is too much even if we hire all the mercenaries here, but we can always learn the tools of the trade."
Charles laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. "To think that you would be the one to suggest that, are you my sweet sister whom I have known for sixteen years?"
Cathy let a tear escape from her eye. "If I keep distracting myself by thinking of something else, maybe I won't have to feel sad."
Charles felt his eyes water, and he hugged his sister close again.
---
Note: It feels a tad unrealistic that they would bounce back so quickly. I'll blame adrenaline.
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It doesn't even have to be a litteral princess... just the person who is the usual helpless plot device.
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[WP] The fair princess - tired of always being the damsel in distress - decides to try her luck as a hero.
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Constable Percy locked the last of the brigands in the cell and tucked the keys back into his belt with a satisfying jingle. "'At'll teach you thugs!" he gloated at them as they all lounged sullenly against the wall. "I bet the king'll want to deal with you hisself!" He gestured toward the executioner's ax hanging on the opposite wall, notched and worn from slicing through so many necks. "I just sent word meself that we saved his daughter and that you thugs were the ones holding her. So I'd expect him t' be here right quick!"
None of the prisoners responded. "Hmph," Percy grunted at them. "Don't need no confession anyway." he turned to his deputies and waggled a fat finger at them. "You boys stay sharp. The rest 'a the gang'll be tryin' to break them out. Don't let *anyone* through that door, you hear me?" The guards in the room saluted back and took their posts, swords at the ready.
Percy climbed the winding stairs out of the dungeon and up to his own bedchambers, where the princess was waiting. Nothing salacious, mind you. Percy was certainly an ambitious young man: he'd climbed his way up the government ranks from almost nothing. Just the fifth son of a minor noble house on the outskirts of nowhere, and look at him now: Constable of the entire province. He'd be Governor before he turned 40, he'd bet. But even an ambitious man such as Percy knew that the Princess was *far* out of his league, both in beauty and rank. So he'd given her his bed to sleep in and rest up from her ordeal. She'd been gone for over 2 years, though who knows how much of it had been at the hands of this gang.
"My lady?" he knocked softly as he entered. She was sitting up in bed, blond hair tousled over the shoulder of the night dress he'd managed to find for her. It was from Lady Bitref, who had ample clothing to share but also ample weight. It was a number of sizes too large for the delicate princess, and revealed a bit more than her dear father would have liked. Constable Percy wasn't complaining, though.
"Constable Percy," she said with a radiant smile. Her voice was like a chorus of songbirds. "Thank *heavens* you found me when you did! Those men were bloodthirsty and horrid! They... they did things..." Percy could see the tears starting to well up in her clear blue eyes.
"Not to worry, my lady. 'ts all over now. You're safe here."
She gave a weak smile and a nod. "You're right. You've been so amazing since you rescued me."
Percy blushed and adjusted his collar. He *had* been amazing, hadn't he? Maybe he'd be Governor earlier than he'd planned! The King would be *mighty* grateful to the man who had rescued his daughter. "Well, thank you, m'lady. I was just checking in to see if there might be anything you would be needin'." Best keep her all buttered up till the King arrived.
"You're leaving?" she said, pulling the blanket aside and swinging one long leg out from under the sheets. Lady Bitref may have been large around the sides, but she was certainly much shorter than the princess. The dressing gown didn't extend very far down her thighs, and Constable Percy found it quite difficult to not look.
"Just need to go lock this in the treasury," he said, jangling the purse of gold at his waist that had been confiscated from the bandits. They'd had quite a haul on them; this would make for quite a bonus for Percy. "But there're guards all o'er the castle. You've nothing t' worry about."
She bit her lip and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Would you... mind if I came with you? I just... don't think I can be alone anymore."
Constable Percy bowed and grinned. If he played his cards right, he could even land himself in the Royal government down at the capital! To think that all of this could come from a common bandit raid. "I'd be happy t' escort you, Princess."
They walked down the hall together to the astonishment of many of the guards. She clung to his arm and laughed at his jokes, while he did his best to inflate his own importance before she spoke to her father. She waited patiently by his side as he fiddled with his keys till he found the right ones to open the vault. She commented on how impressed she was that he'd managed to collect so much for the crown; this must surely be one of the most prosperous provinces in the realm! Percy humbly informed her that he'd played quite a role in encouraging commerce and growth in the area. After that little errand, she gave a large yawn and announced that she finally felt safe enough to get some sleep, all thanks to the Constable's management skills. He escorted her back to her room and opened the door like a true gentleman.
"Thank you so much," she said, gripping him in a tight hug. He tried not to focus too much on her soft breasts pressed against him, or the smell of her hair. "Thank you for all you've done. My father will be so pleased." She still held him tight, no doubt savoring the human contact after all those months with those barbarians. "I am going to ask him to promote you right away." She released him and clasped her hands behind her back with a flirtatious smile.
Percy waved a hand. "Just happy t' be doin' mah duty for my King, m'lady. I 'ppreciate your kind words, and I'd be honored t' 'ave you mention it to the King himself."
"Well, good night, Constable," she said, giving him the cue to leave the room. He bowed once more and closed the door behind him as she went off to get ready for bed.
*Governor Percy*, he thought to himself, trying the title on for size. *Exchequer Percy*, maybe? He'd always been good at dealing with coinage. How about *Minister of Justice Percy*? He had saved the princess from a gang of thieves; the king had to know that he knew how to deal with that rabble. It was possible, right?
Percy made it back to his office (where he would sleep while the Princess made use of his quarters) and started some correspondence before bed. He had to get started on the letter writing early; there would hardly be time *after* the King promoted him. He left some blanks in the letter to his own Father where he could later fill in what position the King had bestowed. With that finished, he disrobed and prepared for bed himself. Must be rested for tomorrow.
He removed his collar and unbuttoned his vest, wondering what new uniform he'd be wearing tomorrow. He removed his pocket watch and laid it out carefully on the desk. Then he removed his... *wait*. *Where was the key ring*? He patted his pockets and checked every belt loop on his trousers. Nothing. He checked under the desk where he'd been sitting; maybe it fell! Still no sign of the keys. *Where could it be*?
As he brainstormed where he might have left it, the belltower began to ring out an alarm.
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"Did you hear about the murder of the royal family last night?"
"They say that one of the generals led a revolt."
"Did anyone survive?"
"The new royal messengers said all of them died, but there were rumors that the prince and princess managed to escape."
The bar was full of people talking about the recent attack on the royal family that no one saw the back door open and two figures slip out of the bar.
They hid in an alley, away from prying eyes. One of them started crying. The other held her hand and squeezed it tight.
"Shh Cathy, it's going to be alright, don't cry," he said, his other hand patting his sister's head.
The other tried to wipe away her tears, but they kept falling. "H-how can it be alright?!" she asked. "Mom and dad and aunt Mary and uncle John are dead and General Grell is on the throne. How can you say it's alright when they're probably out there looking for us?"
Charles stayed silent, at a loss for words. He needed to stay strong for Cathy, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the minute. For a moment, the alley was quiet, save for the sound of Katie crying.
Then he hugged his sister. "It's going to be alright, I promise. We'll find a way out of this, but you'll have to trust me."
Katie sniffed. "O-okay..."
Charles let go of her sister. At that moment, they head the sound of heavy footsteps and they were forced to run.
---
They finally stopped running nearly an hour later, safely hidden inside an empty warehouse. By then, they were exhausted, their heavy breathing echoing within the warehouse. They lay on the floor, panting.
"It's been-*gasp*-a while since I've had to-*gasp*-run that far," remarked Charles, who had joined his father in some hunts before...what happened.
"*gasp*Good-*gasp*-for you-*wheeze*-then. I-*gasp*-haven't run like this *wheeze*-in my entire-*wheeze*-life," panted Cathy. She was usually in the library or at her mother's side, reading about anything that piqued her curiosity or learning the intricacies of the court.
They lay on the ground for over half and hour. Charles helped his sister onto her feet.
"Okay, here's the plan. We'll sneak into one of the boats and head for the next country," he said.
Let it be said that while Charles is good at adapting to new circumstances, he was never the best at long-term planning.
"But they inspect the cargo and the passengers in the other countries. The city guard will also be looking for us at the port," replied Cathy.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but we have to leave this city fast. We aren't safe here."
Cathy thought it over. "Okay, but let us go to the East Nation, father is a good friend of the king there. We might be able to get some help."
Charles nodded. "Alright then, but before we leave..."
He started ripping out his formal clothing and Cathy's fine silk dress.
---
They managed to get onto a boat, but the second part of the plan failed when they overheard some people talking about the assassination of the king of the East Nation.
In hushed tones, Charles spoke to his sister. "Well, what now?"
Cathy was silent, but unlike before, it was not a pause born of grief and pain. Instead, it was a calculating pose, like a thinker working on a new set of problems.
She finally spoke after a minute. "We aren't in good terms with any other country, so we'll have to try our luck somewhere else."
"But where?"
She was about to reply when the ship suddenly stopped, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
It was a pirate attack.
Charles covered Cathy's mouth as screams and metal piercing flesh filled the air. After a while, the sounds died down.
Neither of them moved as they waited, in their cramped hiding place, for the ship to set port.
Finally, after three days, the ship stopped, and they hastily left the boat.
---
"Dead Sailor Harbor, I should have known," said Charles.
"A wretched place where all manner of vulgarity makes itself known," agreed Cathy.
"You've read about this place, sis, what now?" asked her brother.
"Well, it's an independent city-state that other countries don't want on their map. The people here don't care much about politics and from what I've heard, a whole lot of mercenaries."
Charles stared at her. "You're not thinking..."
"Nope. Our army is too much even if we hire all the mercenaries here, but we can always learn the tools of the trade."
Charles laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. "To think that you would be the one to suggest that, are you my sweet sister whom I have known for sixteen years?"
Cathy let a tear escape from her eye. "If I keep distracting myself by thinking of something else, maybe I won't have to feel sad."
Charles felt his eyes water, and he hugged his sister close again.
---
Note: It feels a tad unrealistic that they would bounce back so quickly. I'll blame adrenaline.
|
It doesn't even have to be a litteral princess... just the person who is the usual helpless plot device.
|
[WP] The fair princess - tired of always being the damsel in distress - decides to try her luck as a hero.
|
"Axxy, I'm bored," Princess Dell exclaimed. "There hasn't been a single rescue attempt in 3 moons, and not even a pissant squire to announce the coming of another prince. You really should have let the last one live. That would have given the others some hope. Your appetite must be rather disturbing to would-be heroes"
"It's not my fault that the kingdoms only breed wimps for princes nowadays. The rules are that any prince who can rescue you from this castle shall win your hand in marriage. And I get to eat the failures."
The Dragon, Nothraxxanduun, shifted its immense head to gaze at the princess with its cobalt eyes. It smiled at her, revealing teeth as large and sharp as broadswords.
"Well they all fail, and those rescue attempts are the only sort of excitement I can get in this stuffy old castle. I've read all the books, learned all your spells, and I can probably shoot a truer arrow than any of those dullard knights. I mean, come on Axxy, I even learned to juggle!"
To prove her point Princess Dell grabbed a handful of gold coins from a nearby stack, counted out six, and began to juggle a neat circle in the air above her. Nothraxxanduun let out a low rumble, that was, of course, the sound of Dragon's laughter.
"I only see six coins. Did I ever tell you about the court jester from Liln who could manage a dozen? Why don't you practice until you can beat that?"
Irritated at this jest the princess stamped her foot and released a brute spell, sending each coin hurtling towards the Dragon. They ricocheted harmlessly off its thick scales. Furthered annoyed, Princess Dell visualized the runes for energy and air, and raised her hand to unleash a crackling bolt of lightning. Unperturbed, Nothraxxanduun wove a counterspell, and the bolt fizzled into nothing.
"Have you forgotten who taught you that spell, little one? If you were to live another thousand years then perhaps you could challenge me."
"That's my point exactly! You're just too powerful! How should any prince be able to rescue me when nine-tenths of them don't even bother to learn their runes anymore. They just come charging in with spears and shields, as if they could even lay a scratch upon you. I don't want to be a princess forever you know."
"Not forever dear. My previous captive lasted all the way until her 20th nameday before I ate her. And what a tiresome soul she was, always going on about her knitting and embroidery. You're much more interesting, Dell, I expect you'll keep me entertained until your 22nd at least." The Dragon laughed so heartily this time that steam broke through its grin.
"Oh Heavens that's horrible! I'm already past my 18th nameday. I can't imagine how horrible it would be to remain unwed by my 20th!" The princess scrunched her face in disgust. "No. I won't just sit here waiting on the off chance that some faux knight should rescue me. I need to be proactive about this. Axxy, you *must* carry me to nearest kingdom so that I can find myself a prince to marry."
"And just why should I do that?"
"I'll let you eat the villagers," the princess said sweetly. "I'll even command a knight or two to vanquish you. You always said you enjoy the tang of plate mail."
"Villagers are so bland, it's like eating livestock, and I've lost my taste for knights. I want the King. Royalty is just so, delectable."
Princess Dell considered this for a moment: if she married the heir and Axxy ate the King, then that would make her Queen! But that would not go over well with the People, they would never love her if she fed their King to a Dragon.
"So be it. I don't need their love. Make me a Queen, Axxy. Please."
Nothraxxanduun bared his sinister teeth, mouth smoking in pleasure. He had never imagined to capture someone of her caliber, but she was perfect. This would be fun. Oh yes indeed.
|
"Did you hear about the murder of the royal family last night?"
"They say that one of the generals led a revolt."
"Did anyone survive?"
"The new royal messengers said all of them died, but there were rumors that the prince and princess managed to escape."
The bar was full of people talking about the recent attack on the royal family that no one saw the back door open and two figures slip out of the bar.
They hid in an alley, away from prying eyes. One of them started crying. The other held her hand and squeezed it tight.
"Shh Cathy, it's going to be alright, don't cry," he said, his other hand patting his sister's head.
The other tried to wipe away her tears, but they kept falling. "H-how can it be alright?!" she asked. "Mom and dad and aunt Mary and uncle John are dead and General Grell is on the throne. How can you say it's alright when they're probably out there looking for us?"
Charles stayed silent, at a loss for words. He needed to stay strong for Cathy, but it was becoming more and more difficult by the minute. For a moment, the alley was quiet, save for the sound of Katie crying.
Then he hugged his sister. "It's going to be alright, I promise. We'll find a way out of this, but you'll have to trust me."
Katie sniffed. "O-okay..."
Charles let go of her sister. At that moment, they head the sound of heavy footsteps and they were forced to run.
---
They finally stopped running nearly an hour later, safely hidden inside an empty warehouse. By then, they were exhausted, their heavy breathing echoing within the warehouse. They lay on the floor, panting.
"It's been-*gasp*-a while since I've had to-*gasp*-run that far," remarked Charles, who had joined his father in some hunts before...what happened.
"*gasp*Good-*gasp*-for you-*wheeze*-then. I-*gasp*-haven't run like this *wheeze*-in my entire-*wheeze*-life," panted Cathy. She was usually in the library or at her mother's side, reading about anything that piqued her curiosity or learning the intricacies of the court.
They lay on the ground for over half and hour. Charles helped his sister onto her feet.
"Okay, here's the plan. We'll sneak into one of the boats and head for the next country," he said.
Let it be said that while Charles is good at adapting to new circumstances, he was never the best at long-term planning.
"But they inspect the cargo and the passengers in the other countries. The city guard will also be looking for us at the port," replied Cathy.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but we have to leave this city fast. We aren't safe here."
Cathy thought it over. "Okay, but let us go to the East Nation, father is a good friend of the king there. We might be able to get some help."
Charles nodded. "Alright then, but before we leave..."
He started ripping out his formal clothing and Cathy's fine silk dress.
---
They managed to get onto a boat, but the second part of the plan failed when they overheard some people talking about the assassination of the king of the East Nation.
In hushed tones, Charles spoke to his sister. "Well, what now?"
Cathy was silent, but unlike before, it was not a pause born of grief and pain. Instead, it was a calculating pose, like a thinker working on a new set of problems.
She finally spoke after a minute. "We aren't in good terms with any other country, so we'll have to try our luck somewhere else."
"But where?"
She was about to reply when the ship suddenly stopped, sending them both tumbling to the floor.
It was a pirate attack.
Charles covered Cathy's mouth as screams and metal piercing flesh filled the air. After a while, the sounds died down.
Neither of them moved as they waited, in their cramped hiding place, for the ship to set port.
Finally, after three days, the ship stopped, and they hastily left the boat.
---
"Dead Sailor Harbor, I should have known," said Charles.
"A wretched place where all manner of vulgarity makes itself known," agreed Cathy.
"You've read about this place, sis, what now?" asked her brother.
"Well, it's an independent city-state that other countries don't want on their map. The people here don't care much about politics and from what I've heard, a whole lot of mercenaries."
Charles stared at her. "You're not thinking..."
"Nope. Our army is too much even if we hire all the mercenaries here, but we can always learn the tools of the trade."
Charles laughed, placing a hand on his cheek. "To think that you would be the one to suggest that, are you my sweet sister whom I have known for sixteen years?"
Cathy let a tear escape from her eye. "If I keep distracting myself by thinking of something else, maybe I won't have to feel sad."
Charles felt his eyes water, and he hugged his sister close again.
---
Note: It feels a tad unrealistic that they would bounce back so quickly. I'll blame adrenaline.
|
It doesn't even have to be a litteral princess... just the person who is the usual helpless plot device.
|
[WP] The fair princess - tired of always being the damsel in distress - decides to try her luck as a hero.
|
"Axxy, I'm bored," Princess Dell exclaimed. "There hasn't been a single rescue attempt in 3 moons, and not even a pissant squire to announce the coming of another prince. You really should have let the last one live. That would have given the others some hope. Your appetite must be rather disturbing to would-be heroes"
"It's not my fault that the kingdoms only breed wimps for princes nowadays. The rules are that any prince who can rescue you from this castle shall win your hand in marriage. And I get to eat the failures."
The Dragon, Nothraxxanduun, shifted its immense head to gaze at the princess with its cobalt eyes. It smiled at her, revealing teeth as large and sharp as broadswords.
"Well they all fail, and those rescue attempts are the only sort of excitement I can get in this stuffy old castle. I've read all the books, learned all your spells, and I can probably shoot a truer arrow than any of those dullard knights. I mean, come on Axxy, I even learned to juggle!"
To prove her point Princess Dell grabbed a handful of gold coins from a nearby stack, counted out six, and began to juggle a neat circle in the air above her. Nothraxxanduun let out a low rumble, that was, of course, the sound of Dragon's laughter.
"I only see six coins. Did I ever tell you about the court jester from Liln who could manage a dozen? Why don't you practice until you can beat that?"
Irritated at this jest the princess stamped her foot and released a brute spell, sending each coin hurtling towards the Dragon. They ricocheted harmlessly off its thick scales. Furthered annoyed, Princess Dell visualized the runes for energy and air, and raised her hand to unleash a crackling bolt of lightning. Unperturbed, Nothraxxanduun wove a counterspell, and the bolt fizzled into nothing.
"Have you forgotten who taught you that spell, little one? If you were to live another thousand years then perhaps you could challenge me."
"That's my point exactly! You're just too powerful! How should any prince be able to rescue me when nine-tenths of them don't even bother to learn their runes anymore. They just come charging in with spears and shields, as if they could even lay a scratch upon you. I don't want to be a princess forever you know."
"Not forever dear. My previous captive lasted all the way until her 20th nameday before I ate her. And what a tiresome soul she was, always going on about her knitting and embroidery. You're much more interesting, Dell, I expect you'll keep me entertained until your 22nd at least." The Dragon laughed so heartily this time that steam broke through its grin.
"Oh Heavens that's horrible! I'm already past my 18th nameday. I can't imagine how horrible it would be to remain unwed by my 20th!" The princess scrunched her face in disgust. "No. I won't just sit here waiting on the off chance that some faux knight should rescue me. I need to be proactive about this. Axxy, you *must* carry me to nearest kingdom so that I can find myself a prince to marry."
"And just why should I do that?"
"I'll let you eat the villagers," the princess said sweetly. "I'll even command a knight or two to vanquish you. You always said you enjoy the tang of plate mail."
"Villagers are so bland, it's like eating livestock, and I've lost my taste for knights. I want the King. Royalty is just so, delectable."
Princess Dell considered this for a moment: if she married the heir and Axxy ate the King, then that would make her Queen! But that would not go over well with the People, they would never love her if she fed their King to a Dragon.
"So be it. I don't need their love. Make me a Queen, Axxy. Please."
Nothraxxanduun bared his sinister teeth, mouth smoking in pleasure. He had never imagined to capture someone of her caliber, but she was perfect. This would be fun. Oh yes indeed.
|
Sir Beaufort leant out from behind the cart. The great expanse of the drawbridge lay before him, thirty yards of weathered wood hanging on black chains the width of a man's thigh. At its far end the stone keep waited vigilant. Within it, he would find his prize.
A beastly roar rang out from the bleached haze above him. The snowcapped peaks in the distance took up the cry, returning its ghost again and again. Beaufort cursed under his breath - the dragon would return before long. He had to be quick.
Heaving his armoured form out into the open, Beaufort launched himself out onto the drawbridge. He staggered as the weight of his iron frame caught up with him, threatening to throw him face down onto the boards. He made a mental note to seek out whichever man first suggested wearing plate armour to storm a mountain keep and thank him personally for his contribution. Regaining his footing, he pressed forward again at a steady pace, watching the world rock side to side through the slit in his visor. After weeks of toil, he was finally within reach of his goal. *He* would be the one to save her.
The world span, jumped, and crashed down into Beaufort's face. All sound disappeared in an instant, replaced by a soft ringing that came from somewhere deep in the back of his skull. A dryness in his mouth told him he was screaming, but if he was making any noise he didn't hear it. He tried to rise, but his limbs weren't where he expected to find them and he came crashing unceremoniously back down onto the ground.
Something grabbed Beaufort around the pauldron, hauling him up to his knees and dragging him forward in a half-crawl. He raised his head and tried to hold it steady, failing spectacularly. Half of his visor was bashed in, and the other half revealed only a swimming line of white light. He felt himself thrown down against something hard. A young girl was shrieking somewhere far away, although the sound was bent and broken as if he was holding his head under a bath.
"Oh shut your damn mouth, Harry."
At the sound of his name, Beaufort closed his mouth and the shrieking abruptly stopped. He reached up with quivering hands and pawed at his helmet. The first attempt just ended up smacking him across the side of the head, but his second pass found a good grip and started to ease the helm upward. Its dented side scraped across his forehead as it came off, but the rush of fresh air was a welcome reward. Someone was standing over him. A girl. A girl?
"Have no... Feuuurrrrrrrr-" he managed, collapsing back against whatever it was he was leaning on. The cart, apparently. His surroundings tired of dancing around and returned at last to their rightful places. He was back where he'd started on the far side of the drawbridge. Across from him, the great stone wall of the keep lay in ruins, plumes of smoke rising steadily above it. Rocks the size of a man were scattered across the bridge's charred planks. He couldn't see the dragon anywhere.
"Harry!" The voice was sharp, hard. Beaufort snapped to attention.
"I, uh..." He paused as he finally took in the woman standing over him. "Elisabeth?! What... The tower?..."
"Pull yourself together Harry. Did you really think I was just going to wait in there for someone to rescue me?"
Beaufort looked from his companion, to the ruined tower, and back. "Whu...."
"The last garrison left a keg of gunpowder in the armoury. Look, Harry, we really need to go. That dragon could come back any moment."
"Uh..." He nodded his approval. Well, more of a drunken sway than a nod, but it was good enough. Not that it mattered anyway - Elisabeth was already hauling him to his feet and back towards the mountain pass. Somewhere far away, Harry Beaufort heard the beast roar.
|
It doesn't even have to be a litteral princess... just the person who is the usual helpless plot device.
|
[WP] The fair princess - tired of always being the damsel in distress - decides to try her luck as a hero.
|
"Axxy, I'm bored," Princess Dell exclaimed. "There hasn't been a single rescue attempt in 3 moons, and not even a pissant squire to announce the coming of another prince. You really should have let the last one live. That would have given the others some hope. Your appetite must be rather disturbing to would-be heroes"
"It's not my fault that the kingdoms only breed wimps for princes nowadays. The rules are that any prince who can rescue you from this castle shall win your hand in marriage. And I get to eat the failures."
The Dragon, Nothraxxanduun, shifted its immense head to gaze at the princess with its cobalt eyes. It smiled at her, revealing teeth as large and sharp as broadswords.
"Well they all fail, and those rescue attempts are the only sort of excitement I can get in this stuffy old castle. I've read all the books, learned all your spells, and I can probably shoot a truer arrow than any of those dullard knights. I mean, come on Axxy, I even learned to juggle!"
To prove her point Princess Dell grabbed a handful of gold coins from a nearby stack, counted out six, and began to juggle a neat circle in the air above her. Nothraxxanduun let out a low rumble, that was, of course, the sound of Dragon's laughter.
"I only see six coins. Did I ever tell you about the court jester from Liln who could manage a dozen? Why don't you practice until you can beat that?"
Irritated at this jest the princess stamped her foot and released a brute spell, sending each coin hurtling towards the Dragon. They ricocheted harmlessly off its thick scales. Furthered annoyed, Princess Dell visualized the runes for energy and air, and raised her hand to unleash a crackling bolt of lightning. Unperturbed, Nothraxxanduun wove a counterspell, and the bolt fizzled into nothing.
"Have you forgotten who taught you that spell, little one? If you were to live another thousand years then perhaps you could challenge me."
"That's my point exactly! You're just too powerful! How should any prince be able to rescue me when nine-tenths of them don't even bother to learn their runes anymore. They just come charging in with spears and shields, as if they could even lay a scratch upon you. I don't want to be a princess forever you know."
"Not forever dear. My previous captive lasted all the way until her 20th nameday before I ate her. And what a tiresome soul she was, always going on about her knitting and embroidery. You're much more interesting, Dell, I expect you'll keep me entertained until your 22nd at least." The Dragon laughed so heartily this time that steam broke through its grin.
"Oh Heavens that's horrible! I'm already past my 18th nameday. I can't imagine how horrible it would be to remain unwed by my 20th!" The princess scrunched her face in disgust. "No. I won't just sit here waiting on the off chance that some faux knight should rescue me. I need to be proactive about this. Axxy, you *must* carry me to nearest kingdom so that I can find myself a prince to marry."
"And just why should I do that?"
"I'll let you eat the villagers," the princess said sweetly. "I'll even command a knight or two to vanquish you. You always said you enjoy the tang of plate mail."
"Villagers are so bland, it's like eating livestock, and I've lost my taste for knights. I want the King. Royalty is just so, delectable."
Princess Dell considered this for a moment: if she married the heir and Axxy ate the King, then that would make her Queen! But that would not go over well with the People, they would never love her if she fed their King to a Dragon.
"So be it. I don't need their love. Make me a Queen, Axxy. Please."
Nothraxxanduun bared his sinister teeth, mouth smoking in pleasure. He had never imagined to capture someone of her caliber, but she was perfect. This would be fun. Oh yes indeed.
|
Constable Percy locked the last of the brigands in the cell and tucked the keys back into his belt with a satisfying jingle. "'At'll teach you thugs!" he gloated at them as they all lounged sullenly against the wall. "I bet the king'll want to deal with you hisself!" He gestured toward the executioner's ax hanging on the opposite wall, notched and worn from slicing through so many necks. "I just sent word meself that we saved his daughter and that you thugs were the ones holding her. So I'd expect him t' be here right quick!"
None of the prisoners responded. "Hmph," Percy grunted at them. "Don't need no confession anyway." he turned to his deputies and waggled a fat finger at them. "You boys stay sharp. The rest 'a the gang'll be tryin' to break them out. Don't let *anyone* through that door, you hear me?" The guards in the room saluted back and took their posts, swords at the ready.
Percy climbed the winding stairs out of the dungeon and up to his own bedchambers, where the princess was waiting. Nothing salacious, mind you. Percy was certainly an ambitious young man: he'd climbed his way up the government ranks from almost nothing. Just the fifth son of a minor noble house on the outskirts of nowhere, and look at him now: Constable of the entire province. He'd be Governor before he turned 40, he'd bet. But even an ambitious man such as Percy knew that the Princess was *far* out of his league, both in beauty and rank. So he'd given her his bed to sleep in and rest up from her ordeal. She'd been gone for over 2 years, though who knows how much of it had been at the hands of this gang.
"My lady?" he knocked softly as he entered. She was sitting up in bed, blond hair tousled over the shoulder of the night dress he'd managed to find for her. It was from Lady Bitref, who had ample clothing to share but also ample weight. It was a number of sizes too large for the delicate princess, and revealed a bit more than her dear father would have liked. Constable Percy wasn't complaining, though.
"Constable Percy," she said with a radiant smile. Her voice was like a chorus of songbirds. "Thank *heavens* you found me when you did! Those men were bloodthirsty and horrid! They... they did things..." Percy could see the tears starting to well up in her clear blue eyes.
"Not to worry, my lady. 'ts all over now. You're safe here."
She gave a weak smile and a nod. "You're right. You've been so amazing since you rescued me."
Percy blushed and adjusted his collar. He *had* been amazing, hadn't he? Maybe he'd be Governor earlier than he'd planned! The King would be *mighty* grateful to the man who had rescued his daughter. "Well, thank you, m'lady. I was just checking in to see if there might be anything you would be needin'." Best keep her all buttered up till the King arrived.
"You're leaving?" she said, pulling the blanket aside and swinging one long leg out from under the sheets. Lady Bitref may have been large around the sides, but she was certainly much shorter than the princess. The dressing gown didn't extend very far down her thighs, and Constable Percy found it quite difficult to not look.
"Just need to go lock this in the treasury," he said, jangling the purse of gold at his waist that had been confiscated from the bandits. They'd had quite a haul on them; this would make for quite a bonus for Percy. "But there're guards all o'er the castle. You've nothing t' worry about."
She bit her lip and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Would you... mind if I came with you? I just... don't think I can be alone anymore."
Constable Percy bowed and grinned. If he played his cards right, he could even land himself in the Royal government down at the capital! To think that all of this could come from a common bandit raid. "I'd be happy t' escort you, Princess."
They walked down the hall together to the astonishment of many of the guards. She clung to his arm and laughed at his jokes, while he did his best to inflate his own importance before she spoke to her father. She waited patiently by his side as he fiddled with his keys till he found the right ones to open the vault. She commented on how impressed she was that he'd managed to collect so much for the crown; this must surely be one of the most prosperous provinces in the realm! Percy humbly informed her that he'd played quite a role in encouraging commerce and growth in the area. After that little errand, she gave a large yawn and announced that she finally felt safe enough to get some sleep, all thanks to the Constable's management skills. He escorted her back to her room and opened the door like a true gentleman.
"Thank you so much," she said, gripping him in a tight hug. He tried not to focus too much on her soft breasts pressed against him, or the smell of her hair. "Thank you for all you've done. My father will be so pleased." She still held him tight, no doubt savoring the human contact after all those months with those barbarians. "I am going to ask him to promote you right away." She released him and clasped her hands behind her back with a flirtatious smile.
Percy waved a hand. "Just happy t' be doin' mah duty for my King, m'lady. I 'ppreciate your kind words, and I'd be honored t' 'ave you mention it to the King himself."
"Well, good night, Constable," she said, giving him the cue to leave the room. He bowed once more and closed the door behind him as she went off to get ready for bed.
*Governor Percy*, he thought to himself, trying the title on for size. *Exchequer Percy*, maybe? He'd always been good at dealing with coinage. How about *Minister of Justice Percy*? He had saved the princess from a gang of thieves; the king had to know that he knew how to deal with that rabble. It was possible, right?
Percy made it back to his office (where he would sleep while the Princess made use of his quarters) and started some correspondence before bed. He had to get started on the letter writing early; there would hardly be time *after* the King promoted him. He left some blanks in the letter to his own Father where he could later fill in what position the King had bestowed. With that finished, he disrobed and prepared for bed himself. Must be rested for tomorrow.
He removed his collar and unbuttoned his vest, wondering what new uniform he'd be wearing tomorrow. He removed his pocket watch and laid it out carefully on the desk. Then he removed his... *wait*. *Where was the key ring*? He patted his pockets and checked every belt loop on his trousers. Nothing. He checked under the desk where he'd been sitting; maybe it fell! Still no sign of the keys. *Where could it be*?
As he brainstormed where he might have left it, the belltower began to ring out an alarm.
|
[WP] After a successful grassroots campaign "DIY Medicine" is fully legalized as an alternate healthcare system. All types of medication, and even surgical tools and equipment are now available for anyone to purchase over the counter.
|
“Are you sure about this?” Kevin asked. Jeffery stood over him with two pairs of glimmering, surgical instruments; he hovered directly over Kevin’s abdomen where his grudging patient had been experiencing pain. Kevin had been certain the pain was nothing to be worried over; something bad in the water, maybe something he ate. But Jeffery had been sure it was something far more troubling than his Aunt Linda’s “garbage” lasagna.
“It could be something bad,” Jeffery whispered as Kevin washed the dishes.
“It could be serious,” He said a few days later while Kevin took out the trash.
“What if you die from it,” he mumbled into the pink cartilage of Kevin’s ear as he dozed off watching The Price is Right.
“Fine! I’ll go to a doctor!”
“You don’t need one of those. You got me. I can open you up and stitch you right. You’ll be good as new.” Jeffery had bounced on the soles of his callous covered feet and looked at Kevin with wide blue eyes.
“That’s an awful idea.” Kevin scoffed and turned back to watching Lisa from Kentucky bid 500 American dollars on a goddamn toaster oven.
“You heard bout the DIY medicine movement. Best damn thing ever; I went out and got my self some forceps the day they made the ruling.”
“Good for you,” Kevin snorted. “Use your forceps on the Johnson’s dog down the road, get it to stop yapping at one in the morning.”
“Let me use my skills on you.”
“You haven’t got any skills.”
“I’ve been reading those books. You know I’ve been reading those books. The ones with the pictures.”
“You’re inciting true confidence in me. Please, keep talkin’.”
“Please? Pretty please? Just let me cut you a little bit?”
“Jeffery, you know I wouldn’t say this if I didn’t think it was true. I think you have a problem.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine. Just let me try once, okay?” He batted his eyelashes in an over exaggerated, mocking fashion.
“Fine!” Kevin had spat. “Fine, fine. Get away from me!”
And it had all led to Kevin laying flat on the kitchen table, Jeffery holding forceps in one hand and a pair of surgical scissors in the other. “Are you sure?” Kevin asked again.
“Of course I’m sure,” Jeffery said. “What could go wrong?”
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Dear diary, going to go to town on the opium and have some crazy robert frost dreams..... Will get back to you soon.
Ok, so what I thought was a few days, Diary. Would you believe Ive been sitting around the house for 8 months? If not for my supportive girlfriend I would have starved to death but fortunately I did not. So I shall present to you some dank memes I came up with while partially comatose (*inserts memes*) come to think about it.... These memes make no sense! Is that Sylvester Stalone riding a "Jackrabbit" into battle with Ewoks on the moon of Titan with a corresponding motivational quote from Poly Shore?! Why yes! Yes it is. I've a heavy addiction now so, Ill see you again in a few months Ms. Diary!
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Just to clarify how the message works, the future that sends it back never received it themselves and hope that whoever receives it can use it to protect themselves. the changes to the timeline aren't instantaneous i.e. send the message, history changes instantly, and as a result the message sent back to change history also changed. As a result, the sender doesn't change themselves, but rather hope another version can benefit. Since sending these messages would change the past (i.e. kill Hitler before WW2), this would cause context to change (i.e. if Hitler was killed, any message about hunting down Nazi wouldn't make sense) so the messages may not always be from the same future, just futures where mankind would go if there was no message.
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[WP] For the past century or so, every year on January 1st, humanity has received a broadcast from another version of itself 1 year in the future giving global advice, warnings, or random information. The year, the contents of the message are... distressing
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The Ball had dropped. The new year had been rung in!
Me and my honey cozied up on the couch under a blanket and turned on the TV. It was time for the greatest New Year's tradition in the world!
We tuned into *ABC's Annual Next Year In Review, Live from the Future!*
Of course it was live! The ones sending it back made sure that there was no way for the government to intercept it and edit it before they could show it to us. The was no 3 second delay for censorship from ABC either. It was the uncut, unadulterated, future!
And so the long awaited annual broadcast began!
...
...
...
Nothing was happening, just a blue screen with no noise...
The two of us sat on the couch giving confused looks at each other.
A whole thirty seconds had come and gone-
When finally something appeared.
It was a message in black bold letters.
It simply said...
"We regret to inform you that you're regularly scheduled program has been cancelled due to unforeseen events."
Before either of us could say a word to each other, there was a blindingly bright flash of light.
And then, there was only moonlight reflecting back from the dead screen of the TV.
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"It is... Too late for us..."
We watched the message in a collective silence. They'd been grim a few times but never liked this. Usually it was one lone desperate scientist. Occasionally a few... This looked like the whole city had come to record it.
"Around June of this year things change. It's subtle. It seemed harmless. A few kids here and there for laughs. Perhaps a co worker passes it on for a chuckle... We didn't know..."
The speaker's voice cracked... Another took his place.
"They were just videos... Pranks..."
Murmurs in the crowd.
"You'd expect one thing... But then... It would suddenly change into something else. We... We thought... It made him strong... Way too strong..."
Who? The crowd was demanding.
"His name... I can't... I can't say it..." The speaker tried to compose himself.
"His name is... John Cena you tell them..."
WWE superstar John Cena stepped into the frame.
"His name is Rick Astley."
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[WP] A medieval knight is cursed and transported to the present day. Coincidentally he lands at a modern renaissance fair.
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I awoke still hearing the curse of the sorcerer Tonak in my ear. "Now go thee to a world of pain and misery. You shall wander in misery, an ignorant man in a desert of existence devoid of God's grace and beauty!" and then the trailing cackle of his voice.
But there was no pain, in fact, nothing much had changed. I was still in my tent getting ready for the tournament. But where was my squire?
"Squire", I bellowed.
A squire entered the tent carrying a sword. Not Higgins, my squire, but a lad I had not seen before.
"Help me with my armour lad."
My armour had changed, instead of the sturdy flexible suit I had received from the king I had a suit of clearly inferior workmanship and far too light to withstand a blow. "What is this scrap?!" I demanded.
"Tis the best adamantium forged by the dwarf lords of mount Pelegum, my lord."
"Stop talking gibberish!", I demanded, "How can I joust in this? I shall surely perish on the first strike!"
A lord entered the tent. "Sir Gawain, your match starts, the King is in attendance."
"Squire! my shield! my sword!", I bellowed.
The squire equipped me in seconds and I exited into the sun of a warm summer's fair. Yet there was something odd, that I couldn't put my finger on.
"Your horse m'lord.", said the squire, handing me the reins of an old riding nag.
"What's this! Where is my war horse!".
"This *is* your war horse; Brightwind, raised by the riders of Fanglore in the eastern plains, who carried you through the burning deserts of...."
"Oh, shut up!", I demanded, "Which way to the stocks?"
When I arrived at the stocks I was handed a very light pole arm and lowered my visor to find that it didn't fit properly so I could only really see well from one of my eyes. This made it very difficult to judge distance to my opponent. Nevertheless I was able to place the spear directly upon his haubark and would surely have dismounted him but for the fact that the spear crumbled as if made of cross cut pine.
The actual strike was a bit of a surprise to me owing to my visor and I ended up colliding with the rider knocking him to the ground with my shield. I decided to dismount to make things sporting.
I drew my sword which felt light and poorly weighted with ineffective pommel, deficient hand guard and most alarming, no edge whatsoever!
I felt a pang of fear as my opponent approached, sword drawn to, no doubt, finish me. Maybe he was dazed, I don't know why, but he opened with a clumsy overhead swing, leaving himself fully exposed. My dull sword had something of a point so I merely drove it up under his chin and finished him. He dropped in a instant, blood spraying from every gap in the helmet.
I took my knee in supplication to the king and the crowd seemed in awe of my deft strike as they took to their feet in something of a shared gasp with only a few of them cheering.
The first to speak was the king. "What the fuck dude?!".
His words struck my ears imparting little meaning. "Sire? I questioned, moving a few steps forward hoping to get a better grasp of his import.
Upon my advance people started to rush from the stands as though I were a wild oxen. Even the king ran, knocking over the princess in his haste to escape and she was made insensible hitting her head of a railing.
I turned to call my squire, only to see him sprinting away. I sheathed my useless sword, removed my helmet, and proceeded to check the health of the princess. I righted her and used some nearby water to wipe her brow and face while rubbing her hands and feet vigorously.
After a few minutes everyone had departed and the screaming had died to a distant wimpering. I decided it would be best for the princess to be moved from the hot sun to some shade so I carried here to my tent and placed her upon the chaise whilst I wriggled out of my armour, abandoned as I was by my own squire. I realized that I had made a significant error in my choice of tent and quickly picked up the princess and moved her to the royal tent lest her virtue be smirtched.
After a few minutes the princess awoke but appeared to not be quite herself as she asked me who *she* was. "You are the princess Ardella and I am Gawain."
"Gavin? she said looking at me. "Are you my Gavin?"
"Gawain" I repeated.
About this time I heard a strange wailing sound and not soon after two oddly dressed men entered the tent in somewhat of a hurry holding small metal clubs away from their body as though they were poisonous snakes. They pointed the clubs at us and barked "Where is the knight?"
"See here, my good man", I answered somewhat angered by their impudence. "This woman is injured and requires some help."
"Are you alright mam?", questioned the leader, "Do you know this man?"
"My head hurts...", she replied, "This is Gavin my fiancée."
I was going to correct her again but she was clearly delirious and in need of a leech.
"OK, pick her up and follow us!", barked the man in a superior tone. I surely would have corrected him but thought of the princess and better of it.
Part2:
From here my tale grows dark as I began to learn the meaning of the Sorcerers' curse. From the fair grounds I was led to strange coach that transported Ardella and I through a great city with buildings devoid of any workmanship or beauty, featureless, smooth and empty. At one point I caught sight of a great cathedral. By great I only mean large, for in its construction it was more of an insult to our lord than a prayer. "These workmen need a sound clap about the ears." I murmered.
I can't describe the healing arts, they were outlandish to say the least, but Ardella seemed to regain her spirits well enough although my demand upon arrival "Call the leech!" was replied with the insult of laughter and one smirky, "right away my lord". I couldn't believe the impudence of these commoners.
Ardella was kept over night and, since I was a stranger in a strange land, I slept in a chair in a waiting room down the hall from her room. The healers told me that I could sleep in her room but, of course, that wouldn't be proper. The food I was given was exceptionally fresh and tasty but oddly each small item was wrapped to keep it away from the others. Even the utensils, even the small bit of pepper was wrapped in paper. Why would they pay so much attention to wrapping the smallest items and yet take no care for the ugliness of their city? It was indeed a strange world to which I had been banished.
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“HOLY SHIT!” Justin shrieked as a sudden flash erupted from across the tree he was relieving himself on.
Zipping up his pants in quick jerky movements, Justin slowly peeked out from the tree.
It was a man, a man who, from Justin’s perspective had drank far too much ‘faerie’ mead to move. *Well that’s just great, another dude wasted and going crazy with those damn Roman Candles.* Justin thought standing next to the collapsed man. *Better get him to ‘ye olde doctor’ (wonder if that thing’s spelled right) before I get another jug of mead.*
He reached down and pulled the man’s arm around his neck. Giving a good heave, Justin tried to lift the man up.
*What the…* No matter how Justin pulled the man would not budge. *Is this dude for real?* He tapped the armor with his plastic dagger. Clanging. The man’s armor was actual steel plate. *…Now what?*
While trying to think of possibilities of carrying a man who had gone way out of his way to actually forge a genuine piece of armor, Justin noticed the body shuffle and heard the chain-mail under the plates shift. *Great, he’s up.*
Suddenly the man shot up and unsheathed his sword giving a good swing in Justin’s general location. His eyes were wild, his pupils swimming rapidly in the whites of his eyes almost as if they were trying to escape from its bounds.
He shouted. It was something, something in English yet so completely in gibberish that Justin simply could not find the will to attempt to translate such words.
“Hey there, dude, chill! I was just trying to help you know? It’s your fault that you got so drunk you wandered into the woods and passed out like fucking Sleeping Beauty.”
The man seemed not to comprehend Justin’s words as he began shouting louder and louder while poking the air with this sword in anger. Justin was at a loss. *Well he’s up at least… Up AND drunk, not to mention armed…* Justin looked at his hand which held the prop dagger and at the man’s still crazed eyes. *Oh…*
He dropped the dagger on the ground and raised his hands. Seeing this, the man cautiously stepped towards the dagger and picked it up. “There, now your turn.” Spoke Justin, trembling at the fact that he gave a drunk man yet another weapon.
For a few seconds the man held his ground and thoroughly inspected the disarmed Justin standing in front of him. With a relieved sigh, the man stood straight and sheathed his sword.
“Alright, now that we’ve got that out of the way, who are you?”
The man appeared as confused and troubled as Justin as he spoke yet another sentence which Justin could only appropriate as a drunkard’s ramble.
*Probably a tourist then, best to turn him over to the info booth and let them handle things.*
“Follow me.” He said, flapping his hand in gesture Justin led the man across the outer rim of the fair as he was worried the man would cause yet another scene in the presence of way too many phones at-the-ready to barrage the man with unwanted attention both in physical reality and online.
“Almost there now.” He said looking back at the man who now seemed more pigeon than man as his head twitched here and across with his mouth open in visible awe. *Well at least someone’s having fun.*
The two arrived in front of a richly decorated tent that read ‘The king’s Scribe’ carved in a hardwood sign.
Justin led the man inside with further gesture and sat him down behind the ‘wait heere’ sign. “Right, now just wait here and they’ll probably get things sorted out for you.” He said, pointing at the lady behind the desk who was busy attending a man wearing a heavy cloak. “Wish you the best dude, just don’t get in trouble for swinging that thing around.” *Hopefully not enough for the police to show up...* “See ya!” whispered Justin while exiting the tent.
*Well that was something…* Justin thought as he headed towards his car, his head still occupied by the strange man he had met, *You just never know with these places…*
Justin woke up the next day, the alarm bell ringing inside his head despite having turned it off.
Following his usual routine, freshened up with a quick bath, turned on the TV and splashed the milk half in and outside the bowl. The morning news hummed across the room as Justin focused on the crunching echoing from his mouth to his head.
“Next in the news, yesterday a man who police still have not been able to identify has stopped an armed assault which had occurred in a local renaissance fair. The culprit, who police ha-.”
Ending the note with an abrupt *Biizzzt*, Justin turned the TV off, gathered his stuff and left through the door, his only thought: *Oh god oh god oh god.*
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[WP] A medieval knight is cursed and transported to the present day. Coincidentally he lands at a modern renaissance fair.
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"Awesome sword, dude!"
Paul - Sir Paul, if one wanted to be formal, but, truth to be told, he rarely saw the point - turned briskly, looking at the villager who addressed him. Yeah, a villager, no doubt: that ridiculous thing that he wore was clearly *meant* to look like an armor of some sort, but not even the most green of all apprentice smiths would have dared to present *that* to their master.
A reveler, from the look of it, dressing the part of a knight for some sort of festival: such things were far from unheard of, after all. And, by the way he addressed him, he was clearly believing him one of his fellows: the man had apparently drank more than his fill to make such a mistake. Some of the more self-important knights might have taken great offense to that, perhaps, and made the villain pay dearly for his error; but Paul had far more pressing concerns. For instance: what blasted language was he speaking? It sounded like the tongue of the northern pagans, but not quite... He had... said something about his sword? Something complimentary, by the tone? *Where* was he, anyway?
"My thanks, fellow."
When in doubt, be polite - it never hurts. Siger always said that.
"What? Strange accent you've got there, dude. Anyway, here, have a beer on me! You here to take part to the tournament too, I guess?"
More foreign noises. Great. Anyway, that thing he was offering him was ale - he recognized that just fine, at least. Nod in thanks, take it, and just take a moment to see what all this is about. "Look before thinking, think before acting": when he was but a boy, sent by his father to study theology and eventually become prior of a monastery, Master Siger kept telling him that too; and while his persistent and vigorous inclination towards heterosexuality had long frustrated his lord father's aspirations, Siger's teachings had proven their usefulness again and again. How was he doing nowadays, anyway? He had heard he had fallen into disgrace - because of some absurdly abstruse quarrel about Plato or Aristotle or some other long-dead Pagan sage, yeah, something pointless like that: if that was true it was a great pity, he had been an excellent teacher.
Saint Michael Archangel, that ale was *bitter*! What did they put into it?
But on the other hand, these lasses over there were looking *mighty* fine: their priest would certainly throw a fit at seeing them so underdressed, but he did not mind - far from it, actually.
"Hey, we should move, the field battle is about to begin! It's supposed to be all against all, but let's watch each other's back, alright?"
The villager - who had been babbling for the last few minutes, mostly to himself - half led, half pushed him towards an open area and a bunch of other shoddily armored fellows. He was... he was expecting him to fight alongside him, against these other villagers? Some mock tourney, perhaps? Oh well, may as well go along with it for now and have some fun - better play nice, though, it would not do to harm anyone seriously...
"Begin!"
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“HOLY SHIT!” Justin shrieked as a sudden flash erupted from across the tree he was relieving himself on.
Zipping up his pants in quick jerky movements, Justin slowly peeked out from the tree.
It was a man, a man who, from Justin’s perspective had drank far too much ‘faerie’ mead to move. *Well that’s just great, another dude wasted and going crazy with those damn Roman Candles.* Justin thought standing next to the collapsed man. *Better get him to ‘ye olde doctor’ (wonder if that thing’s spelled right) before I get another jug of mead.*
He reached down and pulled the man’s arm around his neck. Giving a good heave, Justin tried to lift the man up.
*What the…* No matter how Justin pulled the man would not budge. *Is this dude for real?* He tapped the armor with his plastic dagger. Clanging. The man’s armor was actual steel plate. *…Now what?*
While trying to think of possibilities of carrying a man who had gone way out of his way to actually forge a genuine piece of armor, Justin noticed the body shuffle and heard the chain-mail under the plates shift. *Great, he’s up.*
Suddenly the man shot up and unsheathed his sword giving a good swing in Justin’s general location. His eyes were wild, his pupils swimming rapidly in the whites of his eyes almost as if they were trying to escape from its bounds.
He shouted. It was something, something in English yet so completely in gibberish that Justin simply could not find the will to attempt to translate such words.
“Hey there, dude, chill! I was just trying to help you know? It’s your fault that you got so drunk you wandered into the woods and passed out like fucking Sleeping Beauty.”
The man seemed not to comprehend Justin’s words as he began shouting louder and louder while poking the air with this sword in anger. Justin was at a loss. *Well he’s up at least… Up AND drunk, not to mention armed…* Justin looked at his hand which held the prop dagger and at the man’s still crazed eyes. *Oh…*
He dropped the dagger on the ground and raised his hands. Seeing this, the man cautiously stepped towards the dagger and picked it up. “There, now your turn.” Spoke Justin, trembling at the fact that he gave a drunk man yet another weapon.
For a few seconds the man held his ground and thoroughly inspected the disarmed Justin standing in front of him. With a relieved sigh, the man stood straight and sheathed his sword.
“Alright, now that we’ve got that out of the way, who are you?”
The man appeared as confused and troubled as Justin as he spoke yet another sentence which Justin could only appropriate as a drunkard’s ramble.
*Probably a tourist then, best to turn him over to the info booth and let them handle things.*
“Follow me.” He said, flapping his hand in gesture Justin led the man across the outer rim of the fair as he was worried the man would cause yet another scene in the presence of way too many phones at-the-ready to barrage the man with unwanted attention both in physical reality and online.
“Almost there now.” He said looking back at the man who now seemed more pigeon than man as his head twitched here and across with his mouth open in visible awe. *Well at least someone’s having fun.*
The two arrived in front of a richly decorated tent that read ‘The king’s Scribe’ carved in a hardwood sign.
Justin led the man inside with further gesture and sat him down behind the ‘wait heere’ sign. “Right, now just wait here and they’ll probably get things sorted out for you.” He said, pointing at the lady behind the desk who was busy attending a man wearing a heavy cloak. “Wish you the best dude, just don’t get in trouble for swinging that thing around.” *Hopefully not enough for the police to show up...* “See ya!” whispered Justin while exiting the tent.
*Well that was something…* Justin thought as he headed towards his car, his head still occupied by the strange man he had met, *You just never know with these places…*
Justin woke up the next day, the alarm bell ringing inside his head despite having turned it off.
Following his usual routine, freshened up with a quick bath, turned on the TV and splashed the milk half in and outside the bowl. The morning news hummed across the room as Justin focused on the crunching echoing from his mouth to his head.
“Next in the news, yesterday a man who police still have not been able to identify has stopped an armed assault which had occurred in a local renaissance fair. The culprit, who police ha-.”
Ending the note with an abrupt *Biizzzt*, Justin turned the TV off, gathered his stuff and left through the door, his only thought: *Oh god oh god oh god.*
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[WP] A medieval knight is cursed and transported to the present day. Coincidentally he lands at a modern renaissance fair.
|
"Awesome sword, dude!"
Paul - Sir Paul, if one wanted to be formal, but, truth to be told, he rarely saw the point - turned briskly, looking at the villager who addressed him. Yeah, a villager, no doubt: that ridiculous thing that he wore was clearly *meant* to look like an armor of some sort, but not even the most green of all apprentice smiths would have dared to present *that* to their master.
A reveler, from the look of it, dressing the part of a knight for some sort of festival: such things were far from unheard of, after all. And, by the way he addressed him, he was clearly believing him one of his fellows: the man had apparently drank more than his fill to make such a mistake. Some of the more self-important knights might have taken great offense to that, perhaps, and made the villain pay dearly for his error; but Paul had far more pressing concerns. For instance: what blasted language was he speaking? It sounded like the tongue of the northern pagans, but not quite... He had... said something about his sword? Something complimentary, by the tone? *Where* was he, anyway?
"My thanks, fellow."
When in doubt, be polite - it never hurts. Siger always said that.
"What? Strange accent you've got there, dude. Anyway, here, have a beer on me! You here to take part to the tournament too, I guess?"
More foreign noises. Great. Anyway, that thing he was offering him was ale - he recognized that just fine, at least. Nod in thanks, take it, and just take a moment to see what all this is about. "Look before thinking, think before acting": when he was but a boy, sent by his father to study theology and eventually become prior of a monastery, Master Siger kept telling him that too; and while his persistent and vigorous inclination towards heterosexuality had long frustrated his lord father's aspirations, Siger's teachings had proven their usefulness again and again. How was he doing nowadays, anyway? He had heard he had fallen into disgrace - because of some absurdly abstruse quarrel about Plato or Aristotle or some other long-dead Pagan sage, yeah, something pointless like that: if that was true it was a great pity, he had been an excellent teacher.
Saint Michael Archangel, that ale was *bitter*! What did they put into it?
But on the other hand, these lasses over there were looking *mighty* fine: their priest would certainly throw a fit at seeing them so underdressed, but he did not mind - far from it, actually.
"Hey, we should move, the field battle is about to begin! It's supposed to be all against all, but let's watch each other's back, alright?"
The villager - who had been babbling for the last few minutes, mostly to himself - half led, half pushed him towards an open area and a bunch of other shoddily armored fellows. He was... he was expecting him to fight alongside him, against these other villagers? Some mock tourney, perhaps? Oh well, may as well go along with it for now and have some fun - better play nice, though, it would not do to harm anyone seriously...
"Begin!"
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Sir Everard raised his sword high over the wrinkled crone. She begged and pleaded for her life, promising him riches and jewels and vigor. But Sir Everard was not the sort of man to be swayed by such petty concerns; he was a man of God. His blessed armor had protected him from every hex and temptation the old witch could summon, and she had finally met her end.
"I send thee back to the Hell from whence you came!" he shouted as he brought the gleaming metal blade down... and then his arms froze.
"Pity," she told him, getting to her feet. He tried to swing the sword at her, but his arms were locked in place. His legs were rooted to the ground quite literally: thick brown roots were coming out of the soles of his boots. His armor had gone from glinting steel reflecting the firelight to a dull, rough brown: the color and texture of an oak tree. "I was hoping to not have to use this one," she continued. "Very powerful magic. Thankfully I was prepared for this day." The oak texture was spreading up Sir Everard's arms now. The scales of his gauntlets turned green and leafy, growing out into full branches. "Don't worry, my dear. It will wear off in five hundred years or so, and you'll be right as rain. And I'll be hear waiting." Her cackling was the last thing he heard as darkness enveloped his eyes and filled his ears, leaving him encased in permanent darkness.
-----
"Hey man, you're in our spot! We have... doth claimed this... campsite!"
Sir Evarard stirred from his deep slumber and squinted at the cloaked figures standing over him, and the bright sun overhead. His mind was shrouded in the thick fog of slumber... and then it all came rushing back to him. The woods witch and her spells. Their battle. His certain victory... and then her turning him into some sort of tree.
"Back!" Everard shouted, scrambling through the dirt to find his sword. He wrapped his hand around the hilt and sprang into a fighting crouch. "Who are you? Where is the foul demon that has thus imprisoned me?"
Getting a better look at his opponents, he saw that one was a mythical centaur, bearing a large ax and wearing some contraption and metal and glass on its face. The other was a female wearing hardly any clothing: only a garland of flowers over her hair and a tight black garment that made her breasts swell. Horns sprouted from either side of her head, and she carried a heavy wooden staff with a glowing red stone affixed to the end.
"Demons!" Sir Everard cried. "Are you thralls of the woods witch?" He shook the sword in their direction, causing them both to retreat.
"Hey man," the centaur said, hands raised. "Rules say no metal weapons! Wood and foam only!"
Sir Everard didn't know what that meant. "Answer me, beast! Where is your master?"
The two looked at each other. "You mean the coordinator?" The centaur responded. "She's around here somewhere..."
"Jacob, stay in character!" the witch whined to her companion. She turned back to the knight and grinned. Sir Everard raised his sword and assumed fighting stance; who knows what this one is capable of?? "My fair sir," she said with an elaborate bow. "Our liege lord Baron Cooper is right this way." She gestured through the forest, where he noticed colorful tents for the first time.
He glared at the witch for a moment, then slowly circled the pair and headed in the direction she'd gestured. It may be a trap, but she seemed to at least respect him. He needed to figure out where he was, and then finish the original task: hunting down that witch who'd sent him here.
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[WP] A medieval knight is cursed and transported to the present day. Coincidentally he lands at a modern renaissance fair.
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The air shimmered before his eyes as he saw the vile wizard mouth the last words of the spell. His eyes went black and the thoughts disappeared from his mind. He floated through the inky darkness as the air around him grew hotter. He awoke to a foul stench and light streaming in from above.
The knight, groggy from his journey, blinked his eyes and looked around.
"What sort of place is this? Has the wizard captured me, placed me in an oubliette in his foul dungeon? But if so, from where does this light emanate? And what is this strange, hard green substance surrounding me?"
The knight stood up and looked where he had sat to find a hole with blackness underneath. He leaned forward and discovered the source of the smell.
"Lord help me!" He turned around again and saw what appeared to be a door in front of him. He broke the latch with his lobstered gauntlet and kicked open the door. He stepped out into the sunlight and took a deep breath before looking around in horror.
"What cursed land did that damnable wizard banish me to?" he thought. He turned behind him to see that the oubliette was a stand-alone structure, one of a group. There were people waiting in front of these strange cells, and many more walking around dressed in a variety of clothes. Some familiar, some not.
The knight scanned the crowd until he saw what appeared to be a monk standing near a tent. He strode over to the holy man and said, "You, good Friar. Please help me! An evil wizard has cursed me and I am afraid I do not know where I am."
The monk looked at him like he had three eyeballs and said, "Listen, dude. I know this is a Ren Fair but you sound like you're straight out of Beowulf. Can you give that to me again in modern English?"
The knight stepped back, not understanding a word this monk had said. For all he knew, the man was an imposter, and casting another spell! A mailed fist reared back and swung forward with all the might of a master of martial arts. The monk went flying back and hit a table, spilling cups of beer. Many in the crowd turned and gasped, not knowing what would provoke this costumed maniac.
The knight turned to stare at the crowd, and shouted, "By the Lord in Heaven, I will escape this vile place!" He reached to the side for his long sword, but found that he had no weapons on him. Of course the wizard would disarm him before trapping him in that cell! But wait, did the wizard take his dagger?
As the knight reached down to his boot, two burly, bearded men with tattoos approached him. The first one said, "Hey man, what the fuck is your problem? You can't just go punching people like that. I think you need to wait here while someone calls the cops."
More damnable gibberish! And this coming from Vikings! Is this Hades? the knight thought. Vikings, holy men speaking witchcraft, and all manner of strange devices and accoutrements in the hands of these people. The two men advanced slowly as the knight backed away. He then reached down, retrieved the dagger from his boot, and came up with it firmly in hand, pointed at the heathens approaching him.
"Whoa, man," The other one said. "This guy is deranged!" The crowd backed away from the maniac in the full mail suit. The knight was glad he got the point across: do not attempt to harm me.
"I must make my way from this terrible place and get my bearings," he said to himself. He continued backing away, and turned to flee. He made his way through the throngs of people until he started hearing a strange wailing in the distance.
"Sirens! But, as far as I can see, we are not near the ocean!" As the noise grew louder, the wailing turned harsher and more discordant.
"Not sirens! Banshees! The wizard now sends his demons to attack!" He turned in a circle, assessing the situation. More people milled about cautiously, many gathering under tents and giving the man a wide berth. The knight saw an opening in the crowd and decided to run for it, but before he could a strange, armored monster closed the gap... and a man, dressed all in black, stepped out of it!
The man had his hand on his belt and slowly stepped forward.
"Sir, you need to put down the knife and lay on the ground with your arms behind your back," the officer said.
"I cannot understand your words, demon!" Replied the knight. He backed away from the man in black, waving his dagger at the onlookers behind him. The man in black lifted a device to his mouth and spoke a few words.
Seeing this, the knight ducked into a nearby tent with closed flaps, hoping to bide his time and figure out a way to escape. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he saw a familiar sight: a rack of weapons. He shoved his dagger back into the sheathe in this boot. As he looked over the weapons, he could hear more wailing. More demon creatures and their warlock riders were coming closer.
The knight pulled his eyes from the weapons and opened the flaps on the other side, only to be greeted by a strange, metal barrier with holes. He attempted to pull the metal links apart, but realized that the material was too strong. He stuck his head out of the flap and saw that this barrier extended far in either direction. He would not be leaving this tent through the back.
As he turned back to the weapon rack, he heard another noise.
"COME OUT OF THE TENT WITH YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR."
The warlocks amplified their voices! The knight swore that if he could get out of this situation, he would find the wizard who cursed him and send him straight to hell. The knight surveyed the weapons before him. What shoddy material and workmanship! But he had no choice. He grabbed a hand axe and slipped it through a loop on his belt. Then he bent down and picked up a halberd. It was the sturdiest weapon he saw, with a long reach and a wicked edge. It would help him carve through the demons to escape.
The knight stepped out of the tent into the sunlight and lowered his visor. He swung the halberd in a wide arc as a display of his prowess. The crowd was farther back, and the warlocks had taken control of the area in front of the tent.
"We will only say this once more. Put down the weapons and lie on your stomach with your hands behind your back. You are under arrest."
"I do not speak your devilish tongue," the knight shouted back. "Your master got the upper hand and banished me here, but I will find my way back. Do not attempt to stop me. Stand down!"
On a word from the first warlock, the others stepped back and reached for their belts. No doubt they intended on retrieving spell components from their pouches, the knight thought. But he would not be fooled again. He stepped forward once more, swinging his halberd towards them threateningly.
With explosive force, the knight launched himself into a run, preparing to cleave the first closest warlock in half. At this movement, the officers raised their guns and pulled their triggers.
As the knight rushed forward, hellfire erupted from the wands the warlocks had procured. What a terrible noise! And such pain as the spells from the warlocks punched through the mail armor and bit into the knight's flesh. The halberd fell from his hands as the knight stumbled to the ground. The crowd screamed and the officers slowly lowered their pistols.
The strange man in the detailed medieval knight costume had no identification on him and no records to speak of. When questioned about the incident, no one at the fair could account for him, nor could anyone explain why he seemingly went berserk and tried to attack the officers.
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Sir Everard raised his sword high over the wrinkled crone. She begged and pleaded for her life, promising him riches and jewels and vigor. But Sir Everard was not the sort of man to be swayed by such petty concerns; he was a man of God. His blessed armor had protected him from every hex and temptation the old witch could summon, and she had finally met her end.
"I send thee back to the Hell from whence you came!" he shouted as he brought the gleaming metal blade down... and then his arms froze.
"Pity," she told him, getting to her feet. He tried to swing the sword at her, but his arms were locked in place. His legs were rooted to the ground quite literally: thick brown roots were coming out of the soles of his boots. His armor had gone from glinting steel reflecting the firelight to a dull, rough brown: the color and texture of an oak tree. "I was hoping to not have to use this one," she continued. "Very powerful magic. Thankfully I was prepared for this day." The oak texture was spreading up Sir Everard's arms now. The scales of his gauntlets turned green and leafy, growing out into full branches. "Don't worry, my dear. It will wear off in five hundred years or so, and you'll be right as rain. And I'll be hear waiting." Her cackling was the last thing he heard as darkness enveloped his eyes and filled his ears, leaving him encased in permanent darkness.
-----
"Hey man, you're in our spot! We have... doth claimed this... campsite!"
Sir Evarard stirred from his deep slumber and squinted at the cloaked figures standing over him, and the bright sun overhead. His mind was shrouded in the thick fog of slumber... and then it all came rushing back to him. The woods witch and her spells. Their battle. His certain victory... and then her turning him into some sort of tree.
"Back!" Everard shouted, scrambling through the dirt to find his sword. He wrapped his hand around the hilt and sprang into a fighting crouch. "Who are you? Where is the foul demon that has thus imprisoned me?"
Getting a better look at his opponents, he saw that one was a mythical centaur, bearing a large ax and wearing some contraption and metal and glass on its face. The other was a female wearing hardly any clothing: only a garland of flowers over her hair and a tight black garment that made her breasts swell. Horns sprouted from either side of her head, and she carried a heavy wooden staff with a glowing red stone affixed to the end.
"Demons!" Sir Everard cried. "Are you thralls of the woods witch?" He shook the sword in their direction, causing them both to retreat.
"Hey man," the centaur said, hands raised. "Rules say no metal weapons! Wood and foam only!"
Sir Everard didn't know what that meant. "Answer me, beast! Where is your master?"
The two looked at each other. "You mean the coordinator?" The centaur responded. "She's around here somewhere..."
"Jacob, stay in character!" the witch whined to her companion. She turned back to the knight and grinned. Sir Everard raised his sword and assumed fighting stance; who knows what this one is capable of?? "My fair sir," she said with an elaborate bow. "Our liege lord Baron Cooper is right this way." She gestured through the forest, where he noticed colorful tents for the first time.
He glared at the witch for a moment, then slowly circled the pair and headed in the direction she'd gestured. It may be a trap, but she seemed to at least respect him. He needed to figure out where he was, and then finish the original task: hunting down that witch who'd sent him here.
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