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[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.
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It wasn’t the two in front I was worried about. They were tall, sure, and strapping too, packing more than enough muscle underneath their plain robes to toss me across the street if they so chose. But their eyes betrayed them. They were followers, obedient to a fault. They were guard dogs, honed and trained, but they lacked the spark of inspiration which would make them truly dangerous.
For all those reasons, it was the man behind them which truly demanded my full attention.
“Out with it!” snarled the grunt on the left, who looked as if he had been born to inherit the name ‘Rockface’. “Which guild do you come from? This is Firetongue territory, and you’ve got pretty big stones to saunter in here like that!”
“Guild?” I asked. “I’m not with any guild. I just arrived in Crystaltop, just this morning, fresh off one of the merchant vessels. I’m an entertainer, that’s all, and you’re ruining my show. Now, as I was telling my audience before you two barged in, I just need them to focus on my hand right here. Focus! Yes, focus. Focus, and they will soon realize that they have missed the very thing which is hiding in plain sight-”
The thug on the right evidently had no appreciation for the effort I had put into rehearsal. He took careful aim with his foot, and gleefully sent my upturned mug flying with a vicious kick. I saw the precious few coins I had gathered scatter into the sky, spinning discs of bronze and copper. The audience collectively gulped and melted away, slinking away as quickly as spiders before the light. Only the small girl near the front row, the one who had most enthusiastically clapped during my earlier performance, stayed her ground. Her flaxen hair bristled as she planted her fists on her hips.
“Hey! Stop that! You’re spoiling the show! Don’t do that to the nice man!”
My heart brimmed at that – rare was the silver from an appreciative audience, but even that could not trump the ardor from a genuine fan. Rockface’s brow knitted as he contemplated how to deal with the insolent girl, but the mental challenge evidently overwhelmed him in due course, and he settled for swatting at her with the back of his hand. That was more than enough though, and the girl flew a short distance in the air before crumpling in a heap by the side.
The crowd tittered then, as whispers of ‘where is the City Watch’ and ‘these bastards’ and other unhelpful chatter threaded their way to my ears. Rockface and Pugnose (that was his most redeeming feature, honestly) glared at the audience, and their hands began to stray to the brutish cudgels by their sides. The velvet bag in my hands dropped to the floor, and I saw one of the rabbits I had concealed inside it bound away in search of a better life.
“Stop, that is enough. Don’t you fools remember that the Truce is in effect?”
The man at the back stepped forward, the robes around his face fluttering just enough for me to confirm his identity. I would have happily called him Fishlips, but for the fact that I actually knew his name. He raised his right hand, wrenched into a threatening fist, the golden rings on his fingers flashing in the sun, and that was when the magic began to pour out of him.
Years ago, I was near a fireplace when someone threw in a whole bundle of kindling. I hadn’t the sense then to move away in time, and I was on the receiving end of a blast of sparks, fire and ash as the kindling combusted and flamed to life. Those around me had laughed, and they had told me, as they helped me to my feet, that I would never forget such a backblast for the rest of my life.
This was like the backblast.
Only about a dozen times worse.
The crowd around me groaned and sank to their knees, their hands flying to their temples. Fishlips (I couldn’t help myself, they were so purple and bulbous) lowered his hand, and sweet respite came. “Let everyone here be witness, this interloper was the first to cast his magic on Firetongue land,” Fishlips said. “By his actions, he has shown that he is challenging the Guild of the Firetongues for control of this territory. The city is balanced on the edge of a knife, and every Guild has taken every precaution not to light this firekeg, and yet this fool has ambled right up to us to flaunt his magic!”
“Wait, wait,” I said, my palms held up before my chest. “Wait, I’ve got something to say-”
“Silence!” Fishlips thundered. “You have sullied our hospitality enough! Everyone here has seen you work your magic, and yet I have not detected one whit of the spells you have employed! Tell me, if that is not proof of your training, then it is surely proof of your foolishness!”
He was entirely wrong, of course, but I expected very little of Fishlips to begin with.
I had known him for many years, after all. He had always been a bully, even from the time that we were running the streets, scampering from barrel to barrel in search of scraps. He had distinguished himself early on with a peculiarly refined streak of arrogance and cruelty, which when combined made him particularly memorable. It was not really surprising that in the time I had spent away from the city that he would ingratiate himself with the Firetongues – this was a Guild known as much for their loutishness as they were for their brazen, haphazard magic.
It was almost a pity that I would not be able to indulge myself in Fishlip’s impending bout of regret.
“By the powers vested in me, I declare you enemy of the Firetongues!” Fishlips cried. “There are three of us and only one of you! Yield, and I will make this quick! On your knees, dog!”
“Wait, please,” I said. “If you would only hear me out, I just have to tell you that-”
“I do not entertain cries for mercy! Down! Down now!”
“As I said, I only wanted to tell you one thing,” I said, as I scrambled within my tunic. I felt the stem of the flower within, and I whipped it out triumphantly – its brief seclusion within my clothes had dampened its petals somewhat, but the Waterleaf was still sufficiently fresh for a tiny stream of water to spray in an arc through the air.
I smiled.
“Yes, focus!” I said. “Focus, and you will soon realize that you have missed the very thing which is hiding in plain sight-”
There was no time for Rockface, Pugnose or Fishlips to react. The girl shot from a crouching position a few feet away, moving so fast that she was like a silver-tipped arrow finally let loose. She twisted as she arced, taking down Rockface with a swipe of her right foot, and folding Pugnose in half with a slash from her left hand. On her own, she wouldn’t have had enough mass to cause any real damage, fast as she may have been.
She owed it all to the rippling water-blades attached to her limbs, each longer than a carving knife. The Waterleaf in my hands was not done expelling all the water it had stored up, and the stream of liquid flowed through the air like oil, bubbling and hissing as they floated to align themselves obediently to the tune of the girl’s magic. I admired her spellwork – she was young, but she was already skilled at compressing what would otherwise have been limp moisture into a razor-sharp edge. Her blades would have little trouble cutting right through tree bark, much less the flimsy robes the miscreants had dressed themselves in. Firetongues were not well-known for their defensive magic after all.
Fishlips was a bit faster on the uptake. He leapt backwards, fear spreading slowly through his features, as he raised his rings up before him. He began to incant, but it was almost amusing to see how slow he was compared to the girl. He was a flower, blooming under the gentle caress of the sun – she was a cat, roused from sleep with a bucket of iced-water. The girl snarled as she brought her hands together, a giant pair of scissors designed to snap.
“Don’t kill him!” I managed to shout. “Don’t kill him just yet! I want him around for when we finally-”
I heard the bone crack as Fishlip’s bejeweled hand tumbled to the floor. He began screaming then, and the crowd dispersed faster than virgins before a lecher. The girl stooped to pick up the severed limb, then turned and flashed me a thumbs-up.
“Told you I would be fine,” she said with a grin. “Watersnakes hold their own.”
The bells began to toll then, bulging tones that rattled my bones. I heard the clopping of horses in the distance, and the air began to sizzle.
In seconds, the City Watch would arrive, ready to reinforce by all means necessary the unforgiving terms of the Truce.
But seconds were all we needed.
“Let’s go,” I said as I rushed to pull her by her wrist.
“What about your props? All the stuff that you-”
“Leave them,” I laughed. “You won’t believe how much I’ve budgeted just to bring this damned city down.”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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Something different! Time to change **less** to **more**.
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Nobody really expected such day. It was a day when the world got to know of him. It was the day when Shaun entered the city where the strongest Wizards were supposed to be.
But after a long journey, it was only natural that Shaun would try to find a place where to sit down and relax. So, he walked to the nearest tavern called *Unpopular Responses*. It was a bit old-school western styled tavern, which was full of different kind of people. Many of them wore bright wizardly clothing to show off their status. But most importantly, they all were relaxing and eating.
And Shaun did the same thing. He casually got himself seated behind an empty table.
"Hello. Welcome to the *Unpopular Responses*. What can we serve you?" a women came to the table, smiling, ready to take the order.
"Some chicken and beer," Shaun said, not even looking at the menu. "Just get me something with chicken. Smashed potatoes, perhaps?"
"Of course, we'll get you your food in fifteen minutes," the woman said and walked off, leaving Shaun all alone.
Shaun frowned, leaning back and looking around the room. It was supposed to be the city of the strongest wizards. Yet he felt nothing. Which only meant that there weren't any wizards nearby or they weren't using magic. Pity.
"Hey," a voice came in front of Shaun, making him look towards the sound. A boy had himself seated on the other chair. "Do me a card trick!" he said.
"Excuse me?" Shaun said, laughing.
"Come on. You're a wizard, aren't you?"
Shaun laughed. "Call me intrigued! How did you figure that out?"
The boy smirked. "Because you just admitted it," he said.
Shaun laughed, once more. "Smart boy, tricking me like that."
The boy leaned forward. "Now it's only fair if you do me a card *trick* in return," he said.
"Fine," Shaun said, nodding. It was just a tiny bit of magic after all. Even he didn't think that anyone would notice.
He smiled and stared at the boy. The boy got his hands into the pockets and removed a pack of cards, just for such occasions. He put the cards on the table and stared at Shaun. But without even lifting a finger, Shaun stared at the cards, and the cards began shuffling themselves.
"Whoa," the boy said. But the room had instantly gone silent. Everyone looked at Shaun, terrified.
"I-I-Is he... He isn't even using powerful magic," one of the men whispered.
Shaun looked around and slowly smirked. "I see," he muttered to himself. The front door opened and various wizards ran in, sweaty and just searching for the owner of such magical presence. Many of them were pale from the presence alone.
"What's the matter?" Shaun asked, looking around the room. "It's as you've seen a ghost."
"Did you all come here to see the trick?" the boy asked, oblivious of what was going on.
"Wh-who are you?" One of the older wizards said as he got in front of everyone.
"Me?" Shaun said, still shuffling the cards with his magic. "I'm just a traveler who is showing a child a card trick," he explained. They all stared at him, sweaty. "At least for now," he finally added.
---
/r/Elven - Wanted to put something different on the table =). I mostly write psychological themed series. Feel free to check them out!
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[WP] You are a traveler who reaches a city where powerful magicians exist. The stronger a wizard, the less other wizards can sense him casting spells. You start showing off some card tricks to the locals for some coins and realize that some people in the audience look terrified.
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It was Balthasar the Brilliant's first night in the Kingdom of Igok, and he had to admit, he was rather enjoying himself. He'd never even heard of the Kingdom before, never seen it on a map, and yet he already felt at home. He'd been travelling through the mountain-pass, when he'd seen it sparkling like a golden jewel below him. A splendid valley kingdom, certainly worth visiting, he'd thought, if just for a night.
Now, looking around, he was sure he'd been correct to do so. Maybe he'd stay more than a night, if this first one went well. The tavern he'd entered was packed to the rafters with patrons. A lute player was plucking and singing tales of dragons, and a fire was crackling in accompaniment. Balthasar took a deep breath through his nose, enjoying the scent of stale booze, if not so much the even staler piss. He had not been to such a prosperous place in a long, long time. He'd do a few tricks, make a little money, and then join in with the drinking himself.
Balthasar scanned the room looking for the most likely candidates, to be first impressed, and then willing to give coin for their amazement. It shouldn't be hard. Few towns he visited had seen magicians of his skill before, and this place wasn't likely to be different.
It didn't take him long to find his marks.
"Good evening, ladies," he said to a group consisting of three inebriated middle-aged buxom brunettes, as he slicked back his black hair.
"Good evening," crooned the tallest of the women in reply, giving him a wide smile. "And who might you be, Sir?"
"Balthasar the Brilliant," said Balthasar the Brilliant. "But you can call me Baz. I am a travelling wizard who has arrived at this here tavern to win both hearts and minds." And wallets, he wanted to say, but caught his tongue in time.
The woman frowned. "I, too, practice the magical arts. And I must admit I'm quite interested to see what you can do."
Balthasar winced. He didn't need someone else who was in on his tricks. They might give the game away. Ah, what the heck, he'd try anyway.
"Well, for my first feat, I had planned on defying the hands of time, and making you all five years younger." He leaned forward and turned his voice down to a seductive whisper, "But if I did that to you, they'd throw you out for being too young to drink here."
The woman laughed, but her friends remained stone faced.
Balthasar stepped back. "Instead, I am going to show you all a little magic with this golden crown." He held a circular coin between thumb and index finger. The women's eyes watched in semi-excitement as he squeezed his fingers together, the coin vanishing complete.
He had expected a clap. A cheer, maybe. A house number, if he was lucky. But they all just stared at him. Eyes wide as if in disbelief.
The woman who claimed to practice magic let her mouth drop open.
"Are you alright?" Balthasar asked.
No response.
"Lady?"
Silence.
The trick was good, but it wasn't *that* good. It was a warm up, really. Not meant to end the night but rather to start it. Had these folks never seen magic before?
"I'm just, uh, going to step away for a moment," said Balthasar. "Give you all a little time to recover from the shock. I'll, uh, I'll come back and maybe show you something a little less explosive later. Okay?"
Still silence. Just eyes following his every move.
"Okay," he said, walking away and sucking in a long breath. "*Weirdos.*"
Card tricks, he thought. That would be the ticket! He took out a deck from his robe pocket and sauntered off to a group of men.
He hadn't expected one of them to faint when he had produced the missing ace.
In fact, every trick he did, no matter how grand or how lowly, was received as if it were a miracle. This was *it*, he decided. These people thought he was the dog's bollocks. He could have his own show here. Pack out the theatre every Saturday night, maybe even have his own assistant. How lucky it was, he'd stumbled upon Igok!
Then, it happened.
Something was thrown over his head, engulfing him in darkness. "Ey, what's your game!" he shouted, his words muffled by the burlap sack.
"His hands!" hissed a voice. "Bind them, before he destroys the entire city. Better do his feet too, just in case." Then, a bump on his head, and darkness.
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Balthasar awoke to blurry candlelight. His head spun and his body was cold. He looked down to see he was completely naked and tied up by huge iron chains. Must have had a good night, he figured. Hell of a night. Then, when a man's voice disturbed him, he wasn't so sure it had been.
"Oh great wizard, we have been waiting for someone like you. How fortuitous your arrival! What serendipity the Gods have provided!"
A hazy figure came into focus. Two more figures at its side. One looked like a stocky, heavily bearded... *dwarf*. And the other, a beautiful woman with swirling blue eyes, who had pointed ears and for all the world looked like a... No. Impossible. Fancy dress.
The man who was speaking wore a crown of gold, with great green jewels encrusting it.
"You've... been waiting for me?" said Balthasar, still in a daze.
"Yes," said the King. "You are, as I'm sure you know, the most powerful wizard that has ever found his way into our Kingdom. What great luck for both of us!"
"Well, I am pretty good," said Balthasar, allowing himself a smile. Maybe he wasn't in trouble after all.
"That of course, is why we have restrained you. Not one patron and the Flute and Owl felt your magic as you used it. You're dangerous."
"Only after a few pints." He stuck his tongue out and considered. "What is it you want of me, exactly?"
The King drew a long breath. "The Ice Queen's fingers have stretched far across the land, and those that have not yet been killed in war have been sent to work in the Ice Mines. But thankfully, the Ice Queen has not reached the warmth of Irok. Not yet."
"The Ice Queen? Not heard of her? Where does she perform?"
"You have a simple choice, mighty wizard. I have put together a band of elite warriors for you to lead. They are to my side. You are to be the third and final member. You shall travel to the Ice Kingdom itself. You will free the slaves, returning them to their homes. And, if possible, defeat the Ice Queen herself, melting her kingdom forever with your great magic. There will, of course, be mountainous heaps of treasure for you as a reward."
What was going on? Had someone slipped him something in the tavern? Did these people really think he could perform actual magic? Were they lunatics? "Uh... And the other option?"
"The gallows, at noon," said the King with a jolly smile. "That would also be quite a show."
He didn't consider for long: he'd never been much of a swinger, and mountainous heaps of treasure did have a certain ring to it. He'd join the party, then either abscond when the chance arose, or try to find whatever treasure there was without being killed or found out. "Well I guess it's settled," he said. "Where do I sign up?"
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The city, set on a hill in an unrealistically beautiful landscape gleamed in the sunlight. The birds chirped a perfectly beautiful song. Water cascaded in the river merrily. The walls were a perfectly creamy white. Not a single stone was out of place.
Theo hated it. Magic poured out of every orifice. All he could do was shake his head at the waste. But this was Marinhall, home to the college of magecraft. Of course they would want it to be welcoming for everyone. It wasn’t that long ago that mages were feared and hated. They had a reputation to rebuild. More so in Theo’s opinion than most others.
He had come here to swindle the people out of their money. He was a traveler, a jokester, and a bit arrogant. He had practiced all over the country before heading here. He fully believed that the Mages would try to manipulate his tricks, so he had made friends with a few of them in their travels, practiced any way that they might mess with his tricks. He was ready now for the city.
Once inside the alabaster walls, Theo searched around for the largest market he could find, as a city this size was likely to have more than one. As he walked people laughed and smiled, completely relaxed and enjoying their day. It made him sick. How could they be so comfortable with mages around every corner? It wasn’t fair that they could manipulate reality and the lives of those who had no magic. They had no right. It was how Theo’s father had died. Some mage proving that he was superior, commanding a legion of men to their deaths, keeping them from running from the field even as the sureness of defeat spread. His father had been one of those soldiers.
The college was at the very center of the city, and of course the largest market was right outside. Theo made his way into a spot between a vendor of fine leather and one selling sweet pastries. He briefly wondered what had previously occupied this space, as the ground still had marks from the edges of a stall. It didn’t matter. He set down his many bags and started pulling out his many accessories. Juggling pins, knives, scarves, even a couple of batons that when lit were quite large fireballs. Then out came his cards for his favorite imitation magic tricks. Logic beat true magic any day.
He started juggling with the brightly colored scarves, his hat laid by his feet. It was only moments before the jewel colored fabric had drawn the attention of many of the surrounding shoppers. Once he had a decent sized audience he moved on to the pins - heavier but he could manage more of them. That got some applause, but not enough for Theo to be satisfied. So he moved onto the knives. They were received with shock and a few screams as it looked like they were going to plummet into him point down. He chuckled and moved on. A match was lit, and then he had three blazing fireballs. The crowd, now substantial, took a collective step backwards. Then the cheers came. He was tossing them faster and higher. He had really reeled them in.
Once he was done with his act, he took a over exaggerated bow, and sat, his hat receiving more money than he had seen in a while. He played it cool though, shuffling his playing cards and making the cards fly between his hands. Some of the onlookers had moved closer, now that the fire was gone.
Now was his time to make the real money. Once donations into his hat had stopped, he slid it behind him. He waved over a young girl watching him with large eyes.
“You there miss! Would you help me with my first trick?”
She nodded and slowly walked over.
“Pick a card! Any card! Then show it to everyone behind you. But not me!”
She did just that, and as she slid it back into the deck at his motion, her eyes got even larger. He started rapidly shuffling the deck, and then dealing it out onto the ground in front of him. Once he was done, he grabbed one, and held it up, to her and the audience.
“Is this your card?”
“It is!” She and the crowd clapped, and the true card tricks followed. Ever the salesmen of his abilities, Theo kept a close eye on the crowed. And while most of them were laughing and smiling, point when he did one trick or another, there were a few whose faces were pale and worried. Theo had to hold back a laugh. One of his friends he had met while traveling had told him that mages could sense when other mages cast magic, though the more powerful a mage, the more skill they had at hiding it. Theo had already caught one mage trying to turn the odds in their favor, and he had maneuvered around it. They thought he was a mage, and that he was casting magic. And they couldn’t feel anything.
Of course they didn’t feel anything. He wasn’t a mage, and this wasn’t true magic. But oh, this would be fun to manipulate. Maybe he would finally be able to get back at the mage who killed his father. Maybe he could bluff his way into the college. Theo was a fast thinker, and he couldn’t help but smile at all the possibilities.
Another mage tried to interfere with his current trick, and he dodged their attempts again. More pale faces. Theo’s smile grew even larger.
​
r/LandOfMisfits
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[WP] Everyone in the world has suddenly become sterile. The people in this generation grow up, live their lives, and die knowing they are the last.
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After the International sterilization event the worlds governments quickly put out a statement that gave the impression that there was hope, it must have been a virus. It could not have gotten everyone.
They found no one.
It was expected that there would be a state of panic that would sweep across the world because of our own impending extinction. But this is the one time humanity inability to see past the here and now worked for us, most did not react like it was the beginning of the end.
Soon the scientists got to work, there was no shortage of affected individuals to test on. But the results where as bad as they where impossible, human biology had simply failed.
But even as the reports came out people where still calm, there was no enemy to hit and nothing that would affect them in their lifetime. It was going to be a slow death, and they welcomed it.
Cloning technology was tried near the same time but as soon as it became clear that the solution was going to be there the world watched.
Every single embryo was a failure.
It had taken twenty years before most major corporations stopped trying.
And now enough people where dead that services where beginning to break down, it was then that the public started responding. Looting, robbery, murder, as it became clear to people that they where going to starve to death before old age claimed them, anarchy ensued.
Scientist and engineers, backed by the last remnants of the Chinese army recaptured a large portion of china's southeast coast, and with it they began trying to save something of the human race from being forgotten. They where going to try to build self sustaining server farm capable of holding the minds of as many humans as possible, along with as much culture as they could put in it. When they finally had figured out how to scan a brain the group had dwindled to only a few dozen. The procedure also had an 90% failure rate, killing the subject as well.
In the end only I and two others made it into the server farm. Eight hundred years have passed since then. The first deleted his core files in the first two hundred effectively committing suicide. The other died due to server A-2245 having a catastrophic failure and shutting down with her inside.
As long as I live humanity lives with me. I am a testament to what we can achieve when our backs are against the wall, so even as entropy brings my mind to an end this message lives on. We did not die silently, we fought with everything we had and managed to extend our defeat for generations longer than it should. Humanity wil-
\*Remaining file unrecoverable\*
play again? Y/N
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Bella Flores - the youngest person on earth - killed herself last night. The night before her fortieth birthday.
I guess she didn’t want to attend the party.
We would’ve put on our best clothes and flooded the streets and celebrated our encroaching doom. No one had to worry about babysitters, at least.
In her twenties, we were still hopeful. As her thirties passed by, we all waited for the miracle to come.
It didn’t.
Laura handed me a glass of Malbec. She curled up next to me and spread the cream afghan over us. “It’s been a good run,” she said.
I wrapped my arm around her and held her close to my heart. “Was it?”
---
/r/liswrites
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[WP] Vampire bites create vampires. Werewolf bites create werewolves. Zombie bites create zombies. During a particularly rousing pub brawl, you were bitten by a wizard who then teleported away. Now you have until the next full moon to kill him or you'll become his apprentice.
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The bite sizzles and a glistening blue, then purple light blazes from the wound, dazzling me as i stare into it. I can't look away. I can't see anything else but the beautiful lights. Then the lights change instantly to a deep red, almost as if I was bleeding and then the light vanishes. My trance ends and I whip my head up to see the man, who had sank his teeth into my arm, grinning menacingly, and then he disappeared. Fuck. I look back down at my arm and the wound had now partially healed so it looked like an angry, red, raised scar. I stared, dumb founded. That.... what was that? Suddenly, a hand gripped me under my arm and yanked me up from the floor, then, still gripping my arm with an iron like strength, pulled me out of the pub doors and into the chilly night.
Before I could even ask what the hell he was doing, and why, he angrily turned me to face him and bit out
"Why did you let him bite you?"
My mouth gaped open like a dead fish. Let him? What the fuck?
"I'll ask you again. WHY did you let him bite you? Don't you realise what you've done? What you'll become? If the change even takes!!" .....wait. what?
"I.... I...." He eyed me and I shrank under his glare. In a second he went from anger, to rage.
"WELL?!" He bellowed.
"I... I didn't!"
"What do you mean you didn't?" He raged.
"I didn't LET him bite me! I didn't KNOW the freak would bite me!!....Why did he do that?" I whispered the last part in confusion and his brows drew together. Suddenly, be it through fear, or just delayed reaction, I was enraged.
"Why DID he bite me?" I said, my voice rising with anger, and i yanked my arm out of his grasp. "Why did his bite.... fizzle all those colours? And why the fuck did he bite me?! I wasn't even fighting!!!" I cried the part with such anger I could of sworn the ground trembled a little.
"And who the fuck are you?!" I pointed my finger in his face. Again his eyes narrowed and he once again grabbed my arm and steered me down an alleyway. Oh fuck no. I pulled on my arm, but he didn't budge, just continuing to move me down the alleyway.
Once halfway down he finally allowed me to jerk my arm out of his hold, making me realise that when I had angrily jerked my arm out of his grasp earlier in a moment of defiance... he had let me.
"Who the hell are-"
"Shut up." He all but growled.
"Excuse m-"
"Shut. Up." He growled out again. I seethed.
"How dare y-"
"What are you?" He asked looking me over.... and.... sniffing? What the fuck?
"What am I? What kind of question is that?"
"What are you?" He said stepping closer, forcing me to step back against the wall.
"I.... I..." I couldn't think. Why was he still sniffing the air? Was he sniffing.... me? His eyes widened slightly, nostrils flaring, and then he looked annoyed.
"Oh fuck! You're a fucking mortal?" He pushed himself away from me and shoved his fingers through his hair.
"I.. what? Of course I am..." who says mortal and not human anyway? Wait...
"What the fuck are you?" He glared at me.
"That doesn't matter. What matters is who gave you that." He pointed towards my arm and I glanced down.
I shook my head, remembering the beautiful lights.
"I don't... I don't understand." I said, my anger dissipating.
"You don't know who, or rather what, but you?" I felt sick.
"Was it... a were-wol-"
"NO. It was NOT a LYKAE." He emphasised the last word angrily.
"A vamp-"
"No."
"I don't.. I don't kno-"
"A wizard!" He spit out the word. A wizard, was he serious? I smiled confusedly. He looked even angrier.
"This is no laughing matter!" He raged. Well that took the smile off my face.
"You don't get it! He's bitten you! If you don't kill him now, you'l-"
"What?!" I cried out in shock.
"Ki-kill him? Why would I do that?" He stepped closer and put his face down to mine menacingly.
"Because if you don't, you'll become his apprentice!" He snarled. Wait. I was confused again.
"...... So?" I asked, unsure if that was the right question.
"So?!" It was not the right question.
"If you become his apprentice, he will control you! He will teach you all the things a wizard knows but he will control everything you do, he'll make you kill people, whether you know, or care for, them or not."
He paused and looked me up and down.
"He will own you..... and a young woman such as yourself.... He would use you in all the ways he wishes... and you won't be able to do a thing because he will have. Complete. Control." He emphasised the last two words with a deadly look in his eye. I honestly might throw up. He couldn't be serious... could he.
"I.... you can't... you can't be serious?" I swayed slightly and suddenly the bite began to burn. I hissed in a breath and grasped my arm. He looked down and growled.
"It's beginning. Let me see." He reached for my arm but I pulled away.
"No. Don't." I said, grimacing and tightening my grip. There was a pressure building in my chest. Was I dying?
"Let. Me. See." He ground out grabbing my arm.
"I said DON'T!" I yelled. As I did, the pressure exploded out of me, sending a forcewave toward the man, causing him to fly to the end of the alleyway. I gaped towards him and the pain vanished. He jumped up and stalked towards me.
"I.... I'm sorry.... I didn't touch you! I swear!" I cried the last part sharply, putting up my hands in defence as he raised his hand to me. But he didn't strike me, instead grabbing my arm and pulling it down for him to stare at the bite.
"I would never hit you." He stated. "Look." He demanded turning my arm into the light from the streetlamp. I peered down at the bite and found that it still looked raised and angry but now it had glistening silver, forking out like veins around it... and through it? What the fuck? Was it moving? Pulsing?
"That silver? That's his saliva. It's traveling through your veins. Once the full moon rises, the saliva would have travelled through you entire system, and he will be able to control all of you. Your mind, your body and your heart. If he wants it to stop beating. It will." I stared into his eyes in shock. I couldn't find words. I tried, but nothing would come.
"We need to find him. And fast. The full moon is in 12 days." I couldn't breathe.
"H-How?" I managed. He stared into my eyes and then he sighed.
"Come with me."
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The bite mark is scarred into my arm for the time. "Dude, what the hell?" I ask. The man who bit me looks around quickly. I run at him when he disappears in a flash of lights, leaving me blinding and stumbling around.
"Are you okay?" The bartender rushes over to my side, looking at the mark. "Why would he bite you." "I have no clue." "Hold on" the bartender says. He picks me up off the ground and puts me in a soft chair by the fire. "When's the next full moon?" he asks me. "I don't know. Why?" A crowd of people have gathered around us. "That man was a wizard. Only they can teleport. You have to the next full moon to kill him." "Or?" "You'll become his apprentice." "Don't want that" I groan. "No. You don't."
The bartender stands up to his full height. "Hey! Does anybody know when the next full moon is?" Some calls back to him. "Augest tenth." The bartender leans down next to me. "Once today ends, you'll have eight days to find and kill the wizard. Understand?" I nod. "But how do I kill a wizard?" "Any minute you'll be developing a wizards power. That'll help." "Yeah, but I don't know how to do magic." "Well, there *is* something else that should help.
He leads me down into the basement, where several men are in cages. "What?" I stumble back, tripping over myself. The bartender looks back at me. "Oh, relax. I'm not going to lock you up. These are other creatures who committed crimes with a death sentence." "What?" The bartender points at one. "That one there. That's Remus Lupin. He's a wear wolf, and has been sentenced to death. If we let him bite you, you will have the power of a wear wolf. Understand?" "Yeah." I look at Remus Lupin staring at me through the bars. "Don't do this, child. You do not want a wear wolf bite." I wince. He called me a child like I was ten, not twenty two. "No, you don't" the bartender agreed. "And over here" he says pointing to a girl. "Is Annabeth Chase. I don't know what she can do yet, so we won't use her. But, others in here we do need." "Like who?" "Well, you see, over there is Michael Cabello. His dad was a dragon and his mom was a human. With a bite from him, you should be resistant to most magic and enchantments. And over there" the bartender goes on, pointing toward another cage. "Is Harrison Karindo. Harrison can turn into a hawk. A bite from him would let you able to shapeshift into a hawk. Understand?" "I guess so." "You ready to be bit?" I nod, grimly.
The bartender leads me up to the bar again to give me a parting drink. I was bitten by Michael Cabello, giving me his dragon powers, Harrison Karindo, giving me shapeshift powers, Frindy Gastro, giving me extra strength and Will Dorango, giving me telekinesis. I felt the power coursing through me.
"Alright" the bartender said, placing a drink down in front of me. "Lift it with your mind." I focus on watching the cup rise, using my mind's eye to see it happen. The cup begins to float, and then it drops shattering against the floor. "Not bad" the bartender says. "Okay. Now, throw a dart" he says, giving me a dart. "Don't focus on chucking it. Throw it as slow and accurate as possible." I let the dart fly, but the speed of it is nearly double of what I expected. It thuds hard eight inches from the bulls eye. The bartender had no one with shooting powers, sadly. "Now, turn into a hawk" the bartender tells me. I focus on my body changing, shifting into a bird. I begin to shrink, my mouth and nose extending, my toes growing sharp as my shoes also morph, my arms getting long and light. Then I'm a human again. "Good" the bartender says. "Good enough for now." He passes me a beer. "Good luck. You'll need it."
I take a plane over the Marinda Ocean, on my way to the country of Hatoni. Most wizards lived there, and I assumed my biting friend would be there too. The ride would be eight hours, so I figured I could get some rest too.
The plane finally landed and I stepped out, blinking sleep out of my eyes. I step out of the plane, grabbing a map and exiting the building. It was Tuesday morning, meaning I had until the full moon next Wednesday.
"Excuse me?" I ask someone strolling across the sidewalk. They turn to me. "Yes?" "Do you know a wizard with a short beard, dark black hair, kind of"-"wearing a red hat, a blue cloak, bit you and disappeared?" "Yeah? How'd you know?" "He goes to other countries and bites people to get them to come here and attempt to kill him. You should see how many apprentice servants he has." "Wonderful! Can you point me in his direction?" "You don't understand do you? The man that bit you is the most powerful wizard in the universe. You don't stand a chance, no matter how powerful you think you are." "It's my only choice." "Yeah and there's only one outcome." "Can you tell me or not?" "Yeah" he says. "It's pretty hard to miss." He points up toward a large mountain with a castle on top. "Crap" I say. "So much more" he responds.
I attempt to turn into an hawk, but only manage it as high as the roof of a house, before falling twelve feet and landing on the ground. Moaning, I get to my feet to find myself surrounded by a gang. One steps forward toward me. "You a wizard?" he asks me. "I think so." He shakes his head, snickering and comes at me. I throw a punch, but he easily ducks at kicks my legs out from under me. I sprawl out on the ground and try to use my powers. I turn into an hawk, but before I can fly, one kicks me sideways into a wall. They pick me up, back in human form, and start to walk away. Suddenly a man steps out in front of them. He protrudes a stick, waves it and they get blasted back. I fall to the ground in front of him. He picks me up and I black out.
"Child." My eyes open and I stare into the face of a young man I recognized... from at the bar. He was Remus Lupin and he must have escaped. "What? How? Where?" "Relax, child. We have a wizard to kill." I nod. "Thank you for saving me." He nods. "I couldn't let them kill you." "What would they do?" "Take you to Iceland to remove your organs." "What?" "Yeah. Better not think about it. Let's move." I sit up, feeling much better. "How long?" "A day. You needed sleep. It's Wednesday morning." "What!" "Indeed child. We have work to do." He gets up off his chair and I sit up on a bed. I rub my eyes and push myself off, walking toward Lupin at the other side of the room. "Child, now would be a good time to beable to turn into an hawk. The mountain lies ahead of us and it is a rough journey up. I walk outside, the cool breeze against my face, whipping my clothes. I picture myself not only an hawk, but flying above the ground, diving through the wind. My body shrinks, my arms extending, my toes sharpening until I am a large bird sitting on the solid ground. "Good" Lupin says to me. "Now fly!" I spring in the air, my wings flapping and let out a screech. I swoop down, and then soar to the heights, the castle looming out in front of me. Then, suddenly, my wings disappear, replaced by arms. My head expands and I'mfalling, the ground hundreds of feet below.
My eyes blink open. Was I dead? Lupin stands over me. No, I wouldn't be dead then. "You fell" he says. "How am I alive." "I slowed your fall. Your not the only one with tricks." I wince. "Now what?" "You're horrible at magic. You need practice." "How long was I out?" "Three hours." I nod, then wince. Then I black out again.
The next six days I spend training. My super strength gets more powerful. I can now fly all the way up to the castle and down. I can teleport short distances, shoot beams at people and move things with my mind. Lupin keeps saying I'm not ready. "I didn't realize how weak you were" Lupin told me. "I should have realized when you couldn't fight off the gang." It kind of pissed me off how he was telling me how weak I was, but I knew he was trying to help. I also knew he was right. "Should we go?" I ask him on the fourth day. He nods. "We might as well."
It was Tuesday at noon and I flew up the cliff, landing on the rock in front of the castle. Lupin was able to teleport up there, but my teleporting wasn't as accurate long distances. I fly inside the castle. Lupin scaled the walls. How, I didn't know. But the magical walls didn't let anybody teleport in. I dive down, turning into a human at a run, and tackle the guard on watch. He teleports away as we're rolling on the ground. I jump to my feet, a beam of power bouncing off my dragon skin. The guard flies up in the air and I pull him toward me. At the last second, I punch him. He flies across the tower slamming into a wall. Stone crumbles off. I turn around to a stranger. "You're looking for Noah, aren't you?" "What?" "The wizard in charge here. He died a week ago."
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[WP] Scientists have invented a serum that allows animals to speak. Your dog was recently given the serum, but it appears the treatment has not worked. Your cousin, whom you haven't seen since your youth, comes to town to visit. As the door opens, your dog suddenly whispers in your ear: "Run."
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The line was long, but not as long, as some might imagine. It seemed to only be as busy as a denies on a particularly bad bar rush while the store was under staffed instead of as busy as Walmart on black Friday, with ten killer Christmas gifts that everyone and their brother wanted being released that day, kind of busy. But people were still getting frustrated, and some of the dogs really did not want anything to do with other dogs.
 
I got there at 5am and by the time I got into see the vet, it was already passed 3 but I just had to know how my dog felt about me. I mean You can already tell by their actions, but it is always nice to be told every once and a while. I saw some things that really worried me, quite a few of the dogs that got the treatment were in fights with their owners. Then there were a few who were talking animated with each other.
 
As usual most dogs are not fans of vets. Mine included in that Serious, my half lab half German Shepherd, all white was whimpering and shaking slightly. I just calmed her as best I could. She was so sweet. Putting her through stress like this is something I avoid when I can, but to talk with my lifelong friend was something I just couldn’t resist. I was relieved to see they had an option for the serum to be ingested instead of injected. They said it would be slower than injection. So, I got the pill and with a glob of peanut butter we got her to swallow it.
It has been over a week now and not a word from my Serious. I know the serum is not a scam unless there were millions of people in on it, but that would not be feasible as one of them would have let something slip out about the scam played on everyone. But Serious still barks, growls, and cuddles, along with doing everything dogs do, but she hasn’t talked to me.
 
Its been four moths since then and everyone is talking about how intelligent dogs are, apparently more so than we originally thought. There were a few k9 theorist that were working with some of the top scientist on the various high-level universal theories. There were some major government corruption cases where the defining and key witness was the dogs. Seems quite a few people forgot that dogs see so much and while they couldn’t talk before, a large part of the worlds’ k9 population could now. But mine was still just spending time with me, barking and persistently bugging me when she wanted attention or to go out. I love her so much even now.
 
My musings were disrupted by a knock on my door. I stepped up and saw my cousin, well kind of he was kind of leaning against the door frame, his head lulling slightly. I had not seen Bennie since we were kids, though I had seen a Facebook picture or two of him. He rarely updated his Facebook. I reached up and turned the doorknob as I did two things seemed to happen quickly, A growl from Serious as Bennie seemed to fall onto the door. Pushing it open towards me. Serious growl changed slightly, sounding like “GRRRRRRRRRRRUN!”
 
It took me a moment to recognize that was Serious talking to me and a few moments longer to recognize what she told me to do. She told me to run. I took a step back and her front paws were the only thing slowing the door from opening. I took a few more steps back and she growled out to me again, “Run, you have to run” I turned and moved towards the back door and opened it. It is odd doing as your pet tells you to, but she has always been there for me, just as I’ve been there for her. Listening to her telling me to run just made me think she has a reason for it. I opened the back door and called to her. I heard the sound of her paws on the wooden hallway. And an inhuman, and a very undog like growl coming from behind. Moving quickly, I positioned myself just behind the door and once she came running out the door, I pushed with all my weight to slam the door shut. My mind focused on what I was doing. AS the door shut, I noticed the light outside was flickering and orangish in color. Turning around I saw multiple buildings on fire.
 
Serious barked at me again and started off towards the back of the yard. Her nose up and I could hear her sniffing the air. She slowed before getting to the gate, sniffed quick and short before shaking her head slightly as if smelling something foul. Then moving further down the fence over to where she normally tries to dig out of the yard. She stops and turns to look at me. I can just tell she wants me to follow her. The sound of banging on the back door behind me gets me started, but it is the banging on the back fence that really gets me moving. Instead of moving towards Serious I make my way to the front gate and glance carefully though the wooden boards. It
seems clear.
 
I pat myself down to see if I put my keys up like usually when I got home, or… a lump in my back pocket. I reach my hand into it and sure enough my keys are there. I turn back and look at Serious, my dog. I open the gate and whistle as I rush out. My car should be in the driveway, but the view of that is still blocked by my house. I make it past the house and see my car is there, but on the driveway parked perpendicular to mine behind it was what I can only assume was my cousin’s car. No matter what, I needed somewhere semi safe to figure out just what was going on. So I made my way to the car, unlocking the passenger door, then I called out, “Come here Serious, Come here girl.”
 
She came barreling around the corner of the house and jumped into the passenger’s seat. I shut the door behind her. The made my way around to the driver’s side. The car wasn’t to big, it was a smaller sedan, a Kia soul. Which really did limit my options to some extent. But as I reached the drivers side door, I glanced to the corner of my house and saw my neighbor Tom stumble into view. He looked drunk, and like he hurt himself. His shirt was soaked in blood. I had automatically started opening the door before seeing him and stopping.
 
“Come on mommy, we need to go.” Came from in the car. I looked into the car and saw Serious sitting there looking at me. Her eyes so sincere and worried got me moving again. I slipped into the car and started it up. It revved up and I Drove forwards slightly to give me room to start the multi part turn so I could potentially exit the drive way by driving over my yard.
 
“I smelled death, from them.” She panted as I managed to get onto the road.
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“Max, you need to take out the recycling. Max? MAX!” I feel my headset being pulled off and I jerk my head around. My stepmother stands in my room, making a face like she’s had it up to about here with me. The feeling is mutual.
“What?”
“I said you need to take out the recycling, your uncle and cousin are going to be here in any minute. Just pause that game and do the recycling, then please take Luka o-u-t so he doesn’t get all hyper.”
“It’s an online game, I can’t pause it. I’ll do it in a second.” I say, and turn my eyes back towards the screen.
“Max. I said now.” My stepmother says again, and she has that tone of voice. I quit the game. Luka is lying on my bed as usual, but when I grab my hoodie one of his ears perks up.
“Want to go for a walk?” I ask, and Luka gets up with a leisurely stretch and heads towards the door. Last month we finally got the serum for Luka, my dad had an in with some guy who worked at the lab, but nothing happened. For the first few days we kept trying to get Luka to talk, cause apparently dogs can do that now, but either the guy ripped us off or Luka doesn’t have anything to say. He’s the Pluto of talking animals. I head downstairs and grab the recycling and Luka’s leash, but just as we head towards the garage door I hear a car pull into the drive.
“Oh, they’re here! John, John your brother is here.” My stepmother calls, and then she sees me.
“Well, since you dawdled so long, why don’t you just take Andrew with you? You guys haven’t seen each other in a long time right?” I do a standard teenage shrug.
My stepmother opens the front door and steps out onto the porch, I hear her call to my uncle. I hear her loudly tell my cousin that I’m inside, can’t wait to see him, and why don’t we go walk the dog together? Oh no, the dog doesn’t talk (yet), has Andrew seen a talking dog? No? Well that’s too bad.
The front door opens again and in walks my uncle and a bulky kid with sandy hair. Andrew looks almost like my dad, barrel chested and thick necked, even though he is the same age as me. Luka suddenly stands up and presses himself against my leg.
“Rick!” My dad calls, and embraces his brother, who looks just like my dad except with the body type of Gumby. Then my dad disengages and walks to give Andrew a handshake. The two look like more like father and son than my Dad and I. Like carbon copies.
“Run.”
I hear it very quietly, and at first think that I imagine it. I’m down the hall from the living room where the rest of the family is gathered, and nobody is here but Luka. I look down. Luka is looking straight up at me.
“Run.” He says, and I watch in disbelief as his mouth forms the words.
“Uhh, what?” I say, but at that moment my stepmother calls my name.
“Max, why don’t you come over here and say hi!” I look up and notice my stepmother watching me, and behind her is Andrew whose eyes are on Luka.
I glance back down at Luka but he doesn’t say anything, just looks as unconcerned as he was before. Maybe I am imagining it.
I leave the recycling and walk towards the group, and join the conversation.
“So, Max was going to take Luka out for a quick w-a-l-k, and then we can start putting the game on.” My dad says, “Andrew, why don’t you go with him and you guys can catch up?” I look over at Andrew, who looks about as enthusiastic as I do. He glances at my uncle, who nods encouragingly, and starts heading towards the garage door without a word. Fun.
We walk in silence down the drive, and it feels like my brain is working in overtime. What the fuck am I supposed to say? The last time we saw each other we were playing with Bionicles and trading Pokemon cards, but now he’s basically a stranger. Luka is pressed against my side as we walk which is unusual, but I’m so wrapped up in what to say I barely notice.
“Uhh.” So I begin, and I can see out of the corner of my eye Andrew looking at me. Great, now I have to come up with something to say.
“Uhh, so you’re a junior right?” I say, and suddenly feel like it’s the stupidest question to ask, since we are basically the same age.
“Yeah.” He says. And nothing else... We walk another few paces in silence.
“You still doing sports?” I say, racking my brain.
“Yup, made varsity this year.” He says. I have no idea what this means.
“Oh that’s awesome…. In?” I say, trying to sound like I know exactly what varsity is.
“Lacrosse.” He says, and we round the corner.
“Your dog talk?” Andrew asks abruptly, and I look at him in surprise. Didn’t he ask my stepmom the same thing?
“No,” I say out of habit. But then I remember that Luka had actually talked.
“Uh, well, no.” I repeat again. But Andrew is watching me intently.
“You’re sure?” He says, and I give him a weird look.
“Uhh, yeah I’m sure, it’s my dog.” I said.
“Oh, it’s just when we were taking care of him he seemed really smart.” Andrew said, which seems like a weird thing to say. And then I remember that Andrew had taken care of him when the thing happened. The horrible thing. Nothing like hanging out with distant family members brings back the childhood trauma.
But Andrew keeps looking at Luka.
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[WP] You are a simple farmer who lives in a land plagued by famine and war. Every night you pray to the God of Gods for help, but as always you get no response. However, this time it's different. While praying you hear a voice call out to you. "Why do you still pray to me?"
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My tongue flickers over broken lips, an old habit, I know, it is pointless trying to wet the dry desert my lips have become.
I clear my throat, dislodging the dust that has settled after too many barren nights.
I hear her whimper, and I reach out to her.
My weathered hand buried in the oily blackness of her hair, I do the only thing I can do.
The only thing I have done every night for the entirety of my life.
I pray.
"*Today*..."
My voice stirs from somewhere deep from my belly, the only thing that lives there now. I don't bother with formalities. That ended years ago.
"Today, I am thankful for the water we have found. I ask for your guidance tomorrow, as we trek to find food. I know that you watch over us. I know that we are your children, however forgotten."
My voice cracks. We *are* forgotten. I tug a strand from her hair, my fingers grasping for something to hold on to, anything to hold on to.
"Please. If you are still there, if you can hear me. We are dying. I need you now, I need your help. *She* needs your help. Please. *Please*..."
For the first time, I can not go on. I bury my face into her mane and I sob.
She doesn't stir.
I try to get up, but my limbs carry the weight of a thousand lead weights.
I roll over on to my back, and stare into the night sky, the hole in my roof serving as a poor mans skylight. I haven't seen or heard a soul in a year. I wonder if they have all finally succeeded in killing each other.
I beg for sleep or even death to come and whisk me away from this place, but a voice calls to me instead. A voice that I could've mistaken for the night breeze, something so small, I thought I imagined it.
***Why. Why do you still pray to me?***
At first, I do not move.
I imagine death, a strong and gaunt figure of the abyss, pulling me into hallucination before putting out my miserable existence.
***You are wrong, Old Man. I am not Death. He is not here for you. Why do you still pray to me?***
My bones shift, pulling my abused body into an upright position, and then I see her.
Skin as thin as leaves, golden hues pulsating from olive complexion. Her face radiates thousands of years of sorrow, Opal rivers permanently etched into the mounds of her cheeks. She is everything the world was before, but she is less.
She is dying.
I bow my head in her presence. Silver, tangled locks tumbling over my shoulders. I think of my appearance, dirty, malnourished, weeks or maybe days away from certain death. Ashamed and humbled by the figure before me, I say nothing.
***When your son and his closest companion marched into the war of men, you prayed for their safety.***
***And when the Mourning Falcon came to you to deliver news of their death, you prayed for their eternal souls.***
My sobs caught in my throat, I wished that I would suffocate on my sadness.
"Please... do not continue."
I could not look at her. I could not face the shame of losing my family.
***When man's great flames of destruction landed in your field, obliterating your home and killing your wife, you thought you might not continue.***
***But you did. You prayed still.***
I wailed, throwing my head up to meet hers, searching the sea in her eyes.
She *has* heard my cries. She *has* heard, and she has left us here to suffer. A rage consumed my body. I tried to rise, but my body still too weak, I stumbled forward.
"It should have been me! My Marta, My boy, you have taken them from me and have done *nothing.* I watch my daughter die of starvation, she will die soon, I can feel it."
I gesture wildly to the clearing that was once my home, at my shack that fell apart more days than it stood together.
"You have let us die. You have killed us all."
Finally, I let myself collapse into exhaustion. Wailing at the loss of everything I have ever known, the pain pushing me closer and closer into the earth.
***It is true. I have let this world die.***
She bent closer to me, smelling of earth and salt.
***I have listened to you pray, since you were a small and frail creature.***
***I have watched you dance among the ruins around you, as a tiny thing, refusing the reality of the horror that is your world.***
***I have watched you fall in love, in a world that was without it.***
***I watched you run with her, to create your own paradise. And you did. For years, you were untouched by the disease that killed your neighbors and friends. The hatred that consumed them.***
She came closer still, and from the dirt floor I watched her reach out to my daughter. I did not try to stop her.
***When you gave birth to your first child, I was there. I saw the light that filled your small home, the light that did not exist anywhere else in this cold world.***
I heard the rushing of water, and watched tears fall from her face. My daughter, my sweet young daughter, lapped them as they fell onto her own. Her eyes never moved.
***When others prayed to gods of war and vengeance, still you prayed to Me.***
***Why?***
She looked at me now, expecting an answer. And what would I tell her? What did she want to hear?
I told her the truth, as silly as it was.
"I have Hope."
She bent to stroke Eadwine's cheek.
***That you do.***
Her fingers dug into the tear stained dirt in front of me, and much to my bewilderment a green sprout began to grow. A pulse seemed to vibrate through the earth, the ground beneath me feeling softer almost, more *alive.*
***Hope begins as a small seed. It grows as long as we water it. And when it starts to falter, we nurture it. As a farmer, you know this.***
I watch the bush of her hair double in size, great branches swooping down past her shoulder. She smiles at me and reaches among them, pulling two apples from behind her ear.
***Your hope... Has kept me alive.***
***Old Man, Sarid, man of the earth, soul of the stars, you will not die tonight. Together, you and your daughter will nurture this place. There are others of you out there. Find them.***
She stood to go, and I wanted to beg her not to leave, I wonder how many others she's already visited. I wonder where they are. I wonder so many things, but I can not bring myself to ask.
She has already grown much larger as she walks through the doorway. Her body radiates strength and health. I follow her, and watch her disappear into the darkness. I imagine her body drifting among the stars. I stare out into my field, the sprout dug from the earth and cupped into my hands. I hear a brook out in the distance somewhere. To my right, I catch the glisten of an apple tree.
With tears in my eyes, I walk to the very spot in my field where my wife took her last breath. I plant my sprout here. I whisper to it, all of the sweet nothings she would have heard during her time with me.
When I walk back to my hut, Eadwine is awake.
"Papa?"
It is the first time I've heard my daughters voice since the death of her mother.
I rush to her, pushing the apple to her lips, unable to speak and consumed by the rush of emotions that thundered in my heart.
"Eat now Eadwine. We are going to live."
*We are going to live.*
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Hello! This is my first time writing in a very long time. I'm hoping to get out of a years long writers block, thank you so much for being a part of this process!
I hope you enjoyed this, please feel free to offer critique or advice, it's been a while!
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The stone sits atop the broken mountain, cracked in half from the last time the wave of free people that passed through the land. The crops have come back, along with a new government, and a new quota to reach. It’s higher than before, and nobody can grow enough to feed the swelling Grey Army.
My son and daughter are Grey soldiers, fighting for a new way of life, free from the reign of the tumultuous Gods. Gods that watched over our family for more generations than anybody can count. They watched, they acted, and they walked amongst us doing as they pleased. Some brought prosperity and some ruin, but they all brought chaos to us simple people. Somewhere to the east, a spark of order was born. It washed over the land, and broke every god-stone along the way, and with it our way of communing with gods in their immortal form.
That is what shattered Deneb on the mountain top. Or I should say hill-top, as the Grey army says; it is no mountain. But it is the largest hill I have ever seen. Perhaps my children will see true mountains, but I will not, I will stay here tending to the farm, and Deneb’s stone.
As with every morning I arose well before dawn, earlier than anybody that might see me, and I carried a bucket of water to feed the small flower patch growing around Deneb. It was a prayer with no words, in order to curry favour with the only God I had known intimately. Others had passed through, but this was Deneb’s land, and he has ruled forever.
“why do you still pray to me?”
The bucket dropped. I don’t remember letting go, but I head it fall. A round man sat on a stone at the edge of Deneb’s stone. Head downcast, a brimmed hat covering his face except for a large grey bead that sprayed out in every direction like a withered mane.
I knew the punishment for praying to Gods, this was a trap of the Grey’s. They have so many people, surely they could find one that looked like Deneb, but just to catch an old farmer? It made no sense.
“Speak Eaton”
That was my family name, a name only spoken amongst loved ones. Surely my children would never have given that up. But I couldn’t be sure. I had to be sure. I thought back to the last time I had talked to Deneb, years ago.
“The crops should be coming in soon, I feel a bountiful harvest this year,” It was what he had said to me when he gave us a generous harvest one season. Would he remember what I had said back?
His head raised ever so slightly as a smile formed, “With your blessing, old one”.
Those were my words.
It was him.
The stone was cracked, yet he lived. The Grey army was wrong, they were not so easy to kill, yet why had they remained dormant for so long then? “You live.” It was all I could say. Tears might have formed if I wasn’t so energized by his presence. A shaking in my knees began.
“I am a God. There are no other children praying, why do you persist?
I thought of Everett and Alia, “my children, you met them. They are fighting.”
“I remember them well. Alia was always very smart,” He smiled with a hidden memory. “I cannot protect them against men who no longer worship”
Men. He called them men, not children. Why should that sound so strange coming from our all-father? A question for later. “but-“ I stopped, breath gone. He met my eyes with his white jewels that only the Gods possessed and nodded for me to continue. “-When they fight against you and yours, please spare them” The shaking grew.
He frowned, and his face turned hard, “You come to the enemy, and ask us not to kill those trying to kill us.” A God always understood and accepted things so quickly, and acted just as quickly. Barely a breath happened before he continued “Very well, as long as flowers grow on this hill, Everett, Alia, and any men from them shall be protected.” He rose, and began to walk away from the stone, away from the village. As he walked away he said one more thing, and through the wind it still carried to me as if we were beside each other “It is dangerous to worship in these times, guard your actions, and your family line shall live by our hands.”
The shaking was too much. I fell. and my vision blurred. When my breathing returned I got up, and grabbed the pail. I had to get more water before the village awoke.
 
 
This is my first time sharing my writing, any thoughts or critiques are welcome. Thank you for taking the time.
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[WP] You are a simple farmer who lives in a land plagued by famine and war. Every night you pray to the God of Gods for help, but as always you get no response. However, this time it's different. While praying you hear a voice call out to you. "Why do you still pray to me?"
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My tongue flickers over broken lips, an old habit, I know, it is pointless trying to wet the dry desert my lips have become.
I clear my throat, dislodging the dust that has settled after too many barren nights.
I hear her whimper, and I reach out to her.
My weathered hand buried in the oily blackness of her hair, I do the only thing I can do.
The only thing I have done every night for the entirety of my life.
I pray.
"*Today*..."
My voice stirs from somewhere deep from my belly, the only thing that lives there now. I don't bother with formalities. That ended years ago.
"Today, I am thankful for the water we have found. I ask for your guidance tomorrow, as we trek to find food. I know that you watch over us. I know that we are your children, however forgotten."
My voice cracks. We *are* forgotten. I tug a strand from her hair, my fingers grasping for something to hold on to, anything to hold on to.
"Please. If you are still there, if you can hear me. We are dying. I need you now, I need your help. *She* needs your help. Please. *Please*..."
For the first time, I can not go on. I bury my face into her mane and I sob.
She doesn't stir.
I try to get up, but my limbs carry the weight of a thousand lead weights.
I roll over on to my back, and stare into the night sky, the hole in my roof serving as a poor mans skylight. I haven't seen or heard a soul in a year. I wonder if they have all finally succeeded in killing each other.
I beg for sleep or even death to come and whisk me away from this place, but a voice calls to me instead. A voice that I could've mistaken for the night breeze, something so small, I thought I imagined it.
***Why. Why do you still pray to me?***
At first, I do not move.
I imagine death, a strong and gaunt figure of the abyss, pulling me into hallucination before putting out my miserable existence.
***You are wrong, Old Man. I am not Death. He is not here for you. Why do you still pray to me?***
My bones shift, pulling my abused body into an upright position, and then I see her.
Skin as thin as leaves, golden hues pulsating from olive complexion. Her face radiates thousands of years of sorrow, Opal rivers permanently etched into the mounds of her cheeks. She is everything the world was before, but she is less.
She is dying.
I bow my head in her presence. Silver, tangled locks tumbling over my shoulders. I think of my appearance, dirty, malnourished, weeks or maybe days away from certain death. Ashamed and humbled by the figure before me, I say nothing.
***When your son and his closest companion marched into the war of men, you prayed for their safety.***
***And when the Mourning Falcon came to you to deliver news of their death, you prayed for their eternal souls.***
My sobs caught in my throat, I wished that I would suffocate on my sadness.
"Please... do not continue."
I could not look at her. I could not face the shame of losing my family.
***When man's great flames of destruction landed in your field, obliterating your home and killing your wife, you thought you might not continue.***
***But you did. You prayed still.***
I wailed, throwing my head up to meet hers, searching the sea in her eyes.
She *has* heard my cries. She *has* heard, and she has left us here to suffer. A rage consumed my body. I tried to rise, but my body still too weak, I stumbled forward.
"It should have been me! My Marta, My boy, you have taken them from me and have done *nothing.* I watch my daughter die of starvation, she will die soon, I can feel it."
I gesture wildly to the clearing that was once my home, at my shack that fell apart more days than it stood together.
"You have let us die. You have killed us all."
Finally, I let myself collapse into exhaustion. Wailing at the loss of everything I have ever known, the pain pushing me closer and closer into the earth.
***It is true. I have let this world die.***
She bent closer to me, smelling of earth and salt.
***I have listened to you pray, since you were a small and frail creature.***
***I have watched you dance among the ruins around you, as a tiny thing, refusing the reality of the horror that is your world.***
***I have watched you fall in love, in a world that was without it.***
***I watched you run with her, to create your own paradise. And you did. For years, you were untouched by the disease that killed your neighbors and friends. The hatred that consumed them.***
She came closer still, and from the dirt floor I watched her reach out to my daughter. I did not try to stop her.
***When you gave birth to your first child, I was there. I saw the light that filled your small home, the light that did not exist anywhere else in this cold world.***
I heard the rushing of water, and watched tears fall from her face. My daughter, my sweet young daughter, lapped them as they fell onto her own. Her eyes never moved.
***When others prayed to gods of war and vengeance, still you prayed to Me.***
***Why?***
She looked at me now, expecting an answer. And what would I tell her? What did she want to hear?
I told her the truth, as silly as it was.
"I have Hope."
She bent to stroke Eadwine's cheek.
***That you do.***
Her fingers dug into the tear stained dirt in front of me, and much to my bewilderment a green sprout began to grow. A pulse seemed to vibrate through the earth, the ground beneath me feeling softer almost, more *alive.*
***Hope begins as a small seed. It grows as long as we water it. And when it starts to falter, we nurture it. As a farmer, you know this.***
I watch the bush of her hair double in size, great branches swooping down past her shoulder. She smiles at me and reaches among them, pulling two apples from behind her ear.
***Your hope... Has kept me alive.***
***Old Man, Sarid, man of the earth, soul of the stars, you will not die tonight. Together, you and your daughter will nurture this place. There are others of you out there. Find them.***
She stood to go, and I wanted to beg her not to leave, I wonder how many others she's already visited. I wonder where they are. I wonder so many things, but I can not bring myself to ask.
She has already grown much larger as she walks through the doorway. Her body radiates strength and health. I follow her, and watch her disappear into the darkness. I imagine her body drifting among the stars. I stare out into my field, the sprout dug from the earth and cupped into my hands. I hear a brook out in the distance somewhere. To my right, I catch the glisten of an apple tree.
With tears in my eyes, I walk to the very spot in my field where my wife took her last breath. I plant my sprout here. I whisper to it, all of the sweet nothings she would have heard during her time with me.
When I walk back to my hut, Eadwine is awake.
"Papa?"
It is the first time I've heard my daughters voice since the death of her mother.
I rush to her, pushing the apple to her lips, unable to speak and consumed by the rush of emotions that thundered in my heart.
"Eat now Eadwine. We are going to live."
*We are going to live.*
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Hello! This is my first time writing in a very long time. I'm hoping to get out of a years long writers block, thank you so much for being a part of this process!
I hope you enjoyed this, please feel free to offer critique or advice, it's been a while!
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Nighttime used to be a frightening thing. When I was a child, I was frightened of monsters, demons, things that would grab me and take me into the dark.
That was before I learned that the real monsters walk in the daylight, and have names like you or I.
My village, my home, is so different now from how I remember it. Before the War. Back then I was scared of the dark. Now, it is my cloak, my protective shield against dangerous eyes. This night, like the night before, and the one before that, I huddle in the burned out husk of a house. It used to belong to one of my neighbors, but they died a couple of years back. Now it’s mine, but I take care not to let anyone know that. If they knew, they might come to find me. Depending on which side it was, they would either kill me on the spot, or chain me up to be a bullet shield. To do my “patriotic duty.”
This night, like all nights, I pray. I don’t really know who I’m praying to, or even what I’m praying for, but I do it just the same. There was a story my mother used to tell me. About a man who lived in the sky. It used to entertain me, when I was very young, these stories of the magical man and his magical son. Then when I got a bit older I thought the stories were stupid. Then...the War. Now I don’t know how old I am, and those stupid stories are all I have to cling to. So I pray, even though I don’t know why. Even though I don’t expect an answer.
“Why?”
It’s so quiet in the house that at first the voice doesn’t register. It’s the voice of a man on the edge of death, a creaking ruin with wind blowing through it. I spin around to look behind me. In the half light that comes in through one boarded-up window I see him, sitting against the far wall. He’s tall, or he would be if he wasn’t slouched over, and his shoulders are wide. He looks like one of those circus Strongmen after thirty years and a hell of a lot of drugs. His skin is chalky white, and he shakes from time to time. I stare at him, and he stares right back.
“Wh-who are you?” I ask, my voice shaking just a little. If this guy is more dangerous than he looks, I could be in trouble. I didn’t even hear him come in.
“Don’t you know?” He says, “You’re the one who called me here, after all.”
The possibilities for who he is seem to coalesce as I watch. I didn’t call anyone, I’m not that stupid. The only thing I did was...pray.
He looks at me with eyes that seem to stare right through me.
“You-you’re God?” I whisper.
He raises his hands weakly to either side and says “The one and only, kid.”
To say I don’t believe him is an understatement. This guy couldn’t be God. He looked like a bum, and smelled like something died in his pocket. I fall silent for a moment.
He speaks into the silence. “You’re one of the only ones who still prays, you know that? To be honest I sort of gave up on this place years ago. No point in preaching all that peace when you all do nothing but kill each other. My churches are burned down, my clergy are dead, or faithless. Thousands of years of constant worship down the tubes, all cause of one stupid war.”
As I stare at him, speechless, he continues.
“So, what is it that makes you different, huh? You, what, didn’t get the memo. Didn’t hear the news?” He puts his hands to his mouth like a megaphone and proclaims “GOD IS DEAD. So what is it that makes you get on your knees like a good little boy, fold your hands like your mother taught you, and pray?”
It’s startling how angry he seemed to be getting. His sunken eyes weren’t even really looking at me, they were roving around, looking at the ruined furniture, the partially collapsed roof, the boarded windows. His gaze fell back on me.
“I bet you want something, that’s it. You and all your greedy little monkey friends, always wanting something. You’d be amazed what you people used to ask me for, me, your ‘loving god.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “Of all the asinine shit, you want me, ME, to make your stupid neighbor’s fancy car break down? Didn’t you read the fucking rocks I carved for you? Pretty sure there was something in there about that...” He trailed off, seeming suddenly tired. I stared at him, silent. I wasn’t scared of him any more, or even of the patrols who might have heard him shouting. All I felt was...a little sad. He was like a champion, some hero athlete past his prime. In a way, I pitied him.
His mouth curled downward “Oh don’t give me that look. Fine, you want something? Tell me, what do you want?” He stood up, started pacing back and forth. “You want me to fix this?” He gestured at an old couch that hadn’t stood up straight in years. “I can fix this, I can still do that” he snapped his fingers at the couch, and the sound rang oddly, as though the room were larger and emptied than it actually was. In the blink of an eye, a brand new couch stood where the old one used to be. He looked at me, seeming faintly pleased with himself for a moment. Then his smile faded.
“No, that’s not what you want. All the people who want shot like that don’t pray any more. They just go steal it or whatever.” He sat down on the couch heavily, and looked at me with his tired eyes.
“I can’t do that, I’m sorry. I can’t fix this.” He gestured broadly, encompassing more than just the ruined house. His hands seemed to encompass the world in that one gesture. Everything that was wrong, everything that was broken.
“If I could fix all this, don’t you think I would? It breaks my heart to see you like this.” I got the sense he wasn’t talking about just me.
“But I can’t. That’s beyond me. Almighty God, sitting in heaven, watching the world burn and I can’t even throw some fucking water on it.” He seemed on the verge of tears.
I finally found my voice. “Why?” I said. I didn’t need to say any more, he seemed to understand.
“Free will, kid. The great cosmic joke. I have you guys free will, and as part of the deal I can’t do shit to fix what you guys broke. You have to do it yourselves. All I can do is watch.”
We sat in silence for a long time, God and I. He stared at the ceiling, with its water stains and patched holes. I watched him.
I broke the silence, finally. “It helps, you know.”
He looked down at me, questioningly. “What?” His voice was rough, but almost plaintive.
“Just...” I gestured at him, “knowing, I guess. Knowing that you’re real. That I’m not just asking the ceiling for help. Even...even if you can’t do anything to change all this, it...helps. To know you’re out there.”
He seemed to relax slightly into the shiny leather of the new couch. “Huh.” He let out a little sigh, like a puff of air. All of a sudden, he seemed a little cleaner. Nothing I could put my finger on, nothing I could point to. Maybe the lines on his face weren’t so deep. Maybe his clothes were a little less torn, had a few less stains.
He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, covering his face with his hands. He groaned, suddenly.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Aww its just...” He trailed off. “You can’t just say something like that...can’t just feel something like you just did, and expect me not to do anything.” He looked back down at me. “Faith.” He let out a broken little chuckle. “Even after everything you’ve been through. Even after meeting God and finding out he’s useless...you still have faith.” His eyes were moist.
He stood up and walked over to me, where I was leaning against the edge of my cot, and crouched down.
“Thank you.” He said, and I could tell he really meant it. I looked into his eyes, and just for a moment, I saw the stars. I saw planets and suns and massive nebulas. I saw life on other planets, beautiful and incomprehensible at the same time. I saw Earth, in all its dingy, bloodstained glory. I saw clouds above the sea, and worms beneath the ground. I saw War, in a hundred different colors.
For just a moment, I saw what He saw.
I woke up when the sunlight came through one of the holes in the ceiling and smacked me in the face. I looked at the sky outside the hole, a cloudless blue. I wondered for a moment if it had all been a dream, as I hauled myself up and shrugged on my jacket. I froze when I saw the couch. Shiny new leather reflected the room. I smiled, and suddenly didn’t feel as afraid of what might happen today. I might die, or I might live. One army or another might roll over this town like it didn’t exist.
But I knew someday, things would be alright.
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My idea was like slices of a ring, but I think opacity could be cool too.
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[WP] Everyone has a halo visible to everyone else. The better you are, the fuller it is. A full circle signifies a saint, while a complete lack of one is the opposite. You've just run into someone with multiple halos.
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"Left."
Beaming, I thanked the attendant and stepped into the queue on the left. Not that it really mattered. I still had to wait for my brother to go through security.
The line I was standing in progressed expeditiously. It took barely a minute to reach the front, where I fed the automated stile my ticket as I passed, ignoring the happy little tune it chimed as I did so. I hunted down a seat and pulled out a book to pass the time as I waited for my younger sibling. I chose poorly - the book was an old detective tale I had trouble following. But I needed *something* to get me through the wait every day.
It took about half an hour for my brother to reach the front of his line, and another couple minutes to get through the stile. I had zoned out, completely disinterested in the novel in my hands, when his voice gave me a start.
"Must be nice", he mumbled, "skipping all that nonsense".
He seemed to be talking more to himself than me, but his comment ticked me off.
"You say that like I don't have to wait for you anyway".
"Oh come on, it's not my fault and you know it".
"Of course it's your fault, you half-wit".
It was my favourite name for him. My brother, Stanley, the half-wit half-moon. Of course, I'm not much better, I'm one step on a cat's tail from the same rank as him. The thought makes me shudder. It's different for girls. We're expected to be better. It's bullshit, really.
"We should probably go, Lilly, or I'm going to be late again".
His comment interrupts my thought process. I simply nod, frustrated. I had plans for today. But ever since my brother's last "escapade", as he calls it, he's been labelled a half moon - a delinquent - and now he needs an escort from someone of a higher grade. And today that task fell on me.
While I wallowed in dissent over my current situation, we had approached the subway tracks. Workers moved in and out of the great translucent yellow cube forbidding us to get any closer, while it showered us with advertisements. Everything from the latest and greatest mobile PC to classes on halo etiquette.
It's ridiculous really. We'd been taught the halo means everything since primary school - who would pay for more of these classes?
The cube turned orange as the worker drones systematically evacuated the great area around the tracks. Another happy little tune played inside my head. And although I didn't need to check, I could tell my brother heard it too, as he snapped out of his daze.
"You can just leave me here Lilly, the social worker is picking me up right at the station".
I laughed sarcastically. He knows full well I have to hand him off to another escort personally, and I remind him with nothing more than a glare. He looks like he's about to object, when he's interrupted by the arrival of the train.
A formless multicoloured light zooms in over the tracks, smoothly but quickly halting in front of us. Streaks of malformed colour begin to blur, expand, and reshape until in front of us the cabin of the subway car sits with its doors wide open.
The car sits engulfed in the translucent cube, which is now red, as passengers egress the cab. When the torrent of people stops, the cube disappears, and yet another happy little tune plays behind my eyes.
"Come on," I say, stepping forward. Again Stanley opens his mouth to dissent against me coming with him. But he simply stands there with his mouth open, struggling for words, looking like the half-wit I call him.
I drag him into the cab, agitated as always when he's around. But as the smaller orange cube over the cab doors turns red, and they begin to close, I start to get a little apprehensive. This isn't like Stanley. He doesn't want to require an escort any more than I want to escort him, but he's never had any qualms with having me around before, nor has he ever tried anything to get me in trouble. It worried me. What was he about to say?
"Hey, Stanley, what-"
My thought process ends as an all-encompassing pain fills my entire head. My legs buckle, my ears screech, my breathing falters, and my vision clogs with error messages.
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I watch as Lilly crumbles to the floor of the cab alongside everyone else, her long blonde hair trailing behind her golden semi-halo. I'm just glad she didn't vomit. The process may hurt like hell but it's certainly not fatal - with the sole exception of potentially drowning in your own vomit while unconscious. It's extremely rare - the drowning, not the vomiting - but I was afraid if it was going to happen to anyone it would happen to my sister.
With the hijacked cab in formless travel I'm careful not to move too much. This is the biggest downside to jailbreaking the vEye, as far as I'm concerned. I miss the paralyze feature, I miss when formless motion felt like teleportation.
But Zeke is right. We can't let them paralyze us whenever they want.
The discordant cacophony of light outside the cab windows starts to take shape, and within seconds we're in the bunker. There's nothing I can do for Lilly right now, so I wrench open the cab doors and step out of the cab, solely to escape the stench of vomit.
"Stanley!"
I look over to the source of the voice. It's not hard to find - Zeke sticks out like a sore thumb. Standing at the front of the small crowd gathered to witness the results of the hijacking, he stands there beaming at me from underneath his three glowing red halos.
The crowd starts hollering and cheering. It almost feels like I did something grand, but honestly my job was easy. They're not here for me - they're just here to see if the technology worked. And it did. This was the first formless hijacking in history.
I did some flourishes and bows towards the crowd, jokingly accepting their cheers as if they were just for me.
Zeke had walked up to me while I goofed off. I felt a little embarrassed to be honest, but he was still all smiles. I never knew how to act around this man - he was a different league from the rest of us. He had so much charisma and presence. And, of course, no matter what you think of the guy, you can't pretend he's not an amazing hacker.
"We're about to change the world, Stanley", he stated, as if it was the most casual conversation in the world. His right hand was lifted, his fingers clacking away at the air.
"And you've earned your part. Welcome to the upper echelon."
He held his palm out facing me, swiping his hand across the space between us. A panel appeared in front of me, reflecting my appearance, and I watched as my halo grew to a full disc, then turned red.
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I was walking down the street one day, quite upset about the state of my Halo. My credit card had to be cancelled because of its dimness. I had just run over a dog with my car, and I was having trouble feeling bad about it. I wanted to be a good person. I even did all of the proper stuff to deal with the dog, but I just don't give a rats ass about it afterwards. Except when I regret not regretting it. Just as I was thinking about donating to a charity to brighten myself up, a couple of rings caught my eye.
There was a guy with two halos walking into a jewelry shop. I was incredibly curious and decided to follow him in. The halos were one on top of the other, and the bottom one was the brightest one I had ever seen, while the top one was quite dim. He must be the embodiment of goodness, if his halo was not enough to contain his goodness on his own. I wanted to talk to him to get some goodness tips.
However, an exchange happened which caught me quite off guard. The double halo man walked up to the counter.
"Hello fine sirs, I would very much like to buy a ring for my girlfriend. If you help me find what I need, I'd be happy to buy you guys lunch!"
There were two young men behind the counter. They seemed impressed by the halos. "We have a plenty good selection, take a look. We have diamond, gold, silver, and sapphire."
Then the double halo man had did a full 180. He pulled out a fucking pistol and screamed, "DON'T FUCK WITH ME!!! I need ALL of the precious jewelry, IN THE BAG!!!!" He then pulled out a large burlap sack.
The two boys cursed and tried to run into the back in fear, but the double halo man shot them both before they could get anywhere. Not in the head, or chest. In the legs. I would have ran at this point, if I had cared about my own life. I don't.
The double halo man then pulled out a pocket knife and began skinning them as they tried to crawl away, quite violently. After about 5 minutes of watching this, I realized that a good person would have intervened. I stepped up.
"Okay, stop that! They've had enough."
The double halo man fell to his knees. "What have I DONE!"
He stood back up abruptly. "Hell NO! Don't regret this!" He shot the two boys dead. A good person would have been sad.
I was confused at this point.
"Grab the precious jewels for me sir. I need the precious."
It was at that point that I realized what was happening. This was a split personality.
Oh... what the hell.
I started shoveling jewelry with my hands into his bag. I was sure the police were on their way by now, but I still needed to process this. I helped him get the bag into his car, and we drove off.
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[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.
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"I'll have a hamburger", I stated to the waitress, smirking slightly.
It was my friend Eric's idea. We both had a long day at work, and needed to blow off some steam before going home to our respective families. While we daily partake of the cliché activity of grabbing a beer at the closest bar, today's overtime demanded food for our grumbling stomachs.
On my way home every day from work, I pass through the "bad part of town," but couldn't help noticing that a run-down Italian restaurant wriggled to life among the ruins of fallen consumer stores. I had suggested this place to Eric, and he immediately grasped onto the idea of pulling one of his despised-by-everyone bad jokes. A quick laugh by the two of us would be a good start to relieving the day's burden.
The waitress immediately retreated to the kitchen, stone-faced shock paralyzing her face. Eric struggled to hold back his laughter, allowing the occasional chuckle to seep through. I shook my head and pointed out that she had forgotten to take his order, let alone the alcohol we typically whet our taste buds with on a daily basis.
A gruff gentleman had burst through the kitchen door, carrying a black briefcase, which was promptly placed before me. As the latches popped open, Eric blurted out, "That was fast," and was immediately put to rest by a smoking gun from the waitress, who was standing beside the man. Before I could react, the briefcase popped open, and I was enveloped by a glowing neon green gas.
The darkness was soothing. I was just about to start dreaming when I awoke to cold, wet, washcloth wiping my face. "<Agent ID 65536, TOP CLEARANCE Granted>," a computerized voice echoed within the white room. The woman wiping my face, wait- it is a robot wiping my face; her upper half was distinctly human, yet her torso blended into polished steel plating and wiring connecting her to a moving base scooting along the floor. She had quickly rolled away and disappeared behind a sliding door hidden within the wall.
I look around frantically and state, "It...it was just a joke! I just want to go home!" Before I could continue, I heard a repeated, "<EJECT>" voice as a familiar green gas filled the room. The coming darkness would free me from my panic.
I came to sitting at the dining room table at home, my face had apparently fallen into a plate of spaghetti. My wife had stated that I had blacked out in the middle of discussing our finances, while my two kids stared at me as I patted the spaghetti sauce from my nose. As I composed myself, my brain constructed fragments to explain what had happened. I surmised that the stress of work caused me to enter a state of delusion, and not coming back to reality until my brain had overloaded and caused me to black out. I took a deep breath and went to bed early.
Eric was not at work the following day.
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We walk toward the restaurant. It was a diner known for their good food, and well hospitality. Being up in Calgary, Canada, I turn on my phone and ask Siri what the weather is, despite knowing it's quite cool out. She says in response, "It's partly sunny with it being 4 Celsius,". So after that, we walk into the diner with my friend Tony ordering a salmon, and being here for years, I looked at the menu, and said "Do you have the Marmaduke? It was my favorite burger here at Anna's Restaurant," , and the lady at the counter said, "We don't have that burger on our menu anymore, but I'll make sure you'll have it Ryan, because you are our loyal customer,".
"Weird," I said to my friend Tony. "What's up with them removing the Marmaduke from the menu? It was my favorite burger. Well, I'm still glad they're making it for me,". My friend looked at me and said "You do know that Alice's Restaurant doesn't even have that burger? It's the restaurant down a few blocks, Anna's Restaurant that has it,". I look at my friend inquisitively, and weirdly noticing that he was right. Suddenly, the waiter came over and she said "Here you go. One Marmaduke burger," and it looked exactly the same as it would at Anna's. It's almost like they knew I'd order it ... but how? Unless we are in Anna's, and my friend Tony is pulling a prank on me. I know it's not Alice's. Or else I will be following a rabbit hole, which I certainty do not want to get into one. Good lord, do I have to literally live the movie as well?
I request the waiter to come back. Stupid move, I know, but I want to know her name. She said "Anna. I am the owner of the restaurant down a few blocks, and knew you were coming. I know how much you love that burger. Everyone tells me that the Marmaduke is our best selling burger, and you always come and get it every weekend. That's how I know who you are Ryan. It's no mystery. You are our loyal customer. Oh, and before you ask, your friend Tony informed me that you were coming here so I wanted to surprise you,". I look at her strangely, and then said "Well it's true, and Tony told you?" I asked while looking at him. "Anyways, I thought there was a movie named Marmaduke? It had a dog in it I believe? That's not important though,".
I ate the Marmaduke, tasting it's lettuce, cheese, onions, tomatoes, beef, ketchup, and ranch that goes on it. It was an extraordinary burger like usual. Just the way I like it. I go up and fill my cup with Coca-Cola Cherry and I sit back down and drink it. I tell Tony, "This is good," with me realizing he had no food still. Suddenly, Anna comes out of the kitchen and delivers him his food, which was the salmon he asked for. It looked delicious, and I got up, and went to the restroom. Suddenly, I felt a hand behind me and Anna said, "Come with us. You'll have to leave Tony behind. It's something sinister. It revolves around this revolver we found in the kitchen. You were trained as a Forensic Scientist to be able to identify this, are you not?". I tell Anna I have to use the restroom, which I do and afterwards, I leave through the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Tony texts me: "Yo, where you at? I can't just pay this myself,". I respond with "No problem, it's on the house. Anna took care of it. I have to go,".
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[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.
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“Hmmm” Ben mused, scanning the menu over another time. His eyes flicked from the allure of the appetizer section back to the soups. *The tomato looks good* he thought, licking his lips at the thought of the creamy bowl. *Then again, so does the clam chowder.* He looked up at the waitress who raised an eyebrow back at him while her manicured nails tapped her notepad.
“I’d like a bowl of tomato soup, please” Ben finally decided. The waitress mindlessly scribbled a note down on her pad and turned to Ben’s companion, Arthur.
“Are tomatoes even in season?” Arthur asked, looking back and forth between Ben and the waitress. They both shrugged, but he continued. “And don’t forget that Cuchillo’s had an outbreak of salmonella from tomatoes two weeks ago, risky business, Ben.” Ben rolled his eyes at the absent-minded statement, yet it seemed to find home in his psyche.
“You know what,” Ben began, addressing the waitress, “I’ve changed my mind, the clam chowder, is it Manhattan or New England?” The waitress’ eyes grew big for a moment and she leaned a bit closer to the table.
“It’s Rhode Island, sir” she said, looking back at Ben for a response.
“Hmmm, well I wanted New England, but Rhode Island should be good enough, I hear the clams are jumping into the boats this time of year.” The waitress jotted another note down, more precisely this time, and addressed Ben again.
“The soup also comes with a sandwich,” she said as she eyed him more expectantly.
“I’ll order it as an entrée.” The waitress’ eyes suddenly flicked from Ben to Arthur and she nodded, beginning to leave the table.
“Excuse me!” Arthur called after her, “you didn’t take my order.” The waitress walked back frazzled and ran a hand nervously through her hair. “May I have the fried calamari? You can pick from it if you want, Ben,” he added. The waitress hastily scribbled down another note and scurried back to the kitchen.
Passing through the kitchen, she entered a dimly lit back-room. At the center sat a thick, mahogany desk, flanked by two bookshelves. The left bookshelf was meticulously organized, classics such as “The Art of War” and “The Prince” prominently displayed. To the right side of the desk, a plethora of guns hung on the other shelf. At the top, a sniper rifle was mounted, followed downward by an assorted set of shotguns, Uzis and pistols. As for the desk, a large magnum lay atop a copy of “The Campaigns of Alexander,” and behind the desk, a large man lounged in a rich, leather chair. He took a long drag from his Cuban cigar, savoring the nectar of the smoke, and then blew out, the haze dancing across the dim light.
“It’s him,” the waitress curtly stated. “And he’s with a target.” The man nodded and raised a chubby finger, pointing to a bottle of cyanide on his desk. The waitress hurriedly took the bottle and withdrew to the kitchen. She approached the chef making the calamari, pouring a few drops from the bottle into the dish without the chef batting an eye. Then, she peered out the door, watching the two men converse.
“Wanna know what I think, Arthur? I think the waitress is into you.” Ben added the last bit while pointing his straw at Arthur’s chest.
“You really think so, Ben?” he questioned.
“Sure I do! Did you see the way she was fumbling around you, trying to be nonchalant? Hell, she forgot to take your order. Shoot your shot man.” He chuckled, getting a kick out of Arthur’s red face. “Look, here she comes, just watch and play it cool.”
The waitress walked back over with a steaming bowl of soup and a plate stuffed with calamari. As she was putting down the plate, Ben took an eager spoonful of chowder, recoiling and shouting at the sharp pain in his tongue.
“This soup is so hot!” He cried, quickly taking a sip from his water. The waitress jumped suddenly, spilling the plate of calamari on the floor.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” she cried. “Let me go put in another order.” She quickly ran back into the kitchen and Ben smirked at Arthur.
“What did I tell you! She couldn’t even hold the plate steady, man. She’s got the hots for you bad.” Arthur flashed Ben a smile and took a long sip from his own water.
In the back-room, the waitress explained what happened to the big man.
“He gave me the callsign not to kill him. Must have thought he’d get a whiff of the cyanide in the calamari, wanted to do it cleaner. I improvised and dropped the plate.” The man nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip from a glass of bourbon. “I’ll standby and wait for any other signals.”
&#x200B;
I have to go right now and can't give this any more time, but I had more planned and if anyone likes it let me know and I can certainly write more, hope you all find it enjoyable.
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We walk toward the restaurant. It was a diner known for their good food, and well hospitality. Being up in Calgary, Canada, I turn on my phone and ask Siri what the weather is, despite knowing it's quite cool out. She says in response, "It's partly sunny with it being 4 Celsius,". So after that, we walk into the diner with my friend Tony ordering a salmon, and being here for years, I looked at the menu, and said "Do you have the Marmaduke? It was my favorite burger here at Anna's Restaurant," , and the lady at the counter said, "We don't have that burger on our menu anymore, but I'll make sure you'll have it Ryan, because you are our loyal customer,".
"Weird," I said to my friend Tony. "What's up with them removing the Marmaduke from the menu? It was my favorite burger. Well, I'm still glad they're making it for me,". My friend looked at me and said "You do know that Alice's Restaurant doesn't even have that burger? It's the restaurant down a few blocks, Anna's Restaurant that has it,". I look at my friend inquisitively, and weirdly noticing that he was right. Suddenly, the waiter came over and she said "Here you go. One Marmaduke burger," and it looked exactly the same as it would at Anna's. It's almost like they knew I'd order it ... but how? Unless we are in Anna's, and my friend Tony is pulling a prank on me. I know it's not Alice's. Or else I will be following a rabbit hole, which I certainty do not want to get into one. Good lord, do I have to literally live the movie as well?
I request the waiter to come back. Stupid move, I know, but I want to know her name. She said "Anna. I am the owner of the restaurant down a few blocks, and knew you were coming. I know how much you love that burger. Everyone tells me that the Marmaduke is our best selling burger, and you always come and get it every weekend. That's how I know who you are Ryan. It's no mystery. You are our loyal customer. Oh, and before you ask, your friend Tony informed me that you were coming here so I wanted to surprise you,". I look at her strangely, and then said "Well it's true, and Tony told you?" I asked while looking at him. "Anyways, I thought there was a movie named Marmaduke? It had a dog in it I believe? That's not important though,".
I ate the Marmaduke, tasting it's lettuce, cheese, onions, tomatoes, beef, ketchup, and ranch that goes on it. It was an extraordinary burger like usual. Just the way I like it. I go up and fill my cup with Coca-Cola Cherry and I sit back down and drink it. I tell Tony, "This is good," with me realizing he had no food still. Suddenly, Anna comes out of the kitchen and delivers him his food, which was the salmon he asked for. It looked delicious, and I got up, and went to the restroom. Suddenly, I felt a hand behind me and Anna said, "Come with us. You'll have to leave Tony behind. It's something sinister. It revolves around this revolver we found in the kitchen. You were trained as a Forensic Scientist to be able to identify this, are you not?". I tell Anna I have to use the restroom, which I do and afterwards, I leave through the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Tony texts me: "Yo, where you at? I can't just pay this myself,". I respond with "No problem, it's on the house. Anna took care of it. I have to go,".
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[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.
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Cod roe at three times the price of their best steak, with green beans (optional). Nothing else. Every time I ordered from this menu, I wondered why that particular item was there.
Well, I wasn't paying for it and I wasn't hungry after hearing that tell-tale giggle from a woman and the too-fond goodbye from my boyfriend when I went to pick him up from work as a surprise.
I hated this restaurant anyway. They always assumed my boyfriend was going to order, the quality of the food was distinctly hit-and-miss and the last time, I'd waited half an hour for the soup of the day while Stephen enjoyed his tuna salad. He hadn't waited for me, but he had gone off to the loo for a long time. Again.
I realised that my handsome, charming dream of a boyfriend was probably doing drugs. In fact, he was off in the loo again, and would probably return in a better mood. Or a worse one. The thing is, it was only *here* that he went off like this, so drugs hadn't sprung to mind.
Drugs, or fucking one of the staff? That... fit. Very well. And now, finally, someone had deigned to actually turn up and see what I wanted.
'Your order, miss?' asked the server, looking nervous. He was young, with very short hair. Brand new. The new servers always actually worked.
I realised with relief that after this meal, I was never going to have to see this server, this restaurant or my now ex-boyfriend ever again, and gave the server my best smile.
'I'll take the cod roe, with the green beans,' I said pleasantly, meeting his eyes. He looked about twenty but was nervous enough to be barely an adult.
His eyes went wide and he took a breath. 'And what wine would you like with that?' he asked, looking hopeful.
Was he about to win some sort of bet?
'Do you have any Chateau Lafitte?' I asked. I might as well push the boat out. Stephen was going to pay and then I was going to painlessly clip him out of my life.
It wouldn't be difficult. He'd neatly avoided talking about his family, another bad sign, and I didn't know which company he actually worked for, one reason for going to pick him up at the office block he always met me outside.
'I'll... go and ask,' said the server, leaving in a hurry. So young, so keen. He'd be cynical within two weeks, gone within the year.
I hated this restaurant so much. It only looked classy. Like Stephen. I'd overlooked the flaws because he was shined to such a fine polish and seemed very keen on me, and my self-esteem had wanted the boost. Now, lots of things were adding up. Perhaps not drugs, but a serial philanderer, for certain.
'And soup of the day for my partner,' I called out, having nearly forgotten. I wanted the front kept up until Stephen was safely out of sight. Just in case things turned nasty.
The server had given me a startled, worried look, had nodded and vanished into the kitchen, and soon the maitre d'hotel turned up, a grizzled man who looked distinctly ex-army.
He came over towards me. 'You?' he said, surprised.
'Stephen's paying,' I said with a smile. 'For everything. You know Stephen, yes? Very smart, always a black suit, gold cufflinks, black hair, smart haircut?'
'Yes, I know him,' said the maitre d', with all the grace I expected of anyone who had been working in place for more than a fortnight. He gave a short nod. 'Right,' he said. 'I'll take care of it. Will you be staying for dessert?'
His manner had suddenly improved. Which made sense, I realised suddenly, if he disliked Stephen a whole lot, and this particular order was a common 'fuck you' from ex-girlfriends with no appetite, especially paired with an expensive wine.
'No,' I told him. 'I don't think so. I want to drop some weight.'
He smiled, although it was tight about the eyes. 'Very well. This way then, to the private dining room, Miss...?'
'Lanscombe,' I said, picking up my handbag. 'And it's Ms.'
'Ms, yes, of course,' he said, and snapped his fingers.
Suddenly, a server who had been *exceptionally* rude realised he had a job to do and jumped to it, bringing my coat, and I was taken upstairs, to the door marked 'Private Dining Room' that I had passed any time I'd wanted the loo, and inside down a corridor to...
...to an office full of monitors, people with headsets, computers, projected maps.
My coat was put on a hook, and I was otherwise ignored, until the door opened again and there was a cough.
'This is Ms Lanscombe,' said the Maitre d'.
All eyes turned. Conversation stopped. People rang off their conversaions, and gradually, busy chatter and tippety-tappety turned to a watchful, waiting silence.
'This is Ms Lanscombe,' said the Maitre d'hotel again. 'She's in charge, the order was just given.'
'Does that mean Temple's gone?' asked someone. 'He was a prick.' He looked directly at me, ginger hair and pale blue eyes, and I remembered him - he'd served me half-raw half-burned potatoes a week ago and had actually apologised for the kitchen.
'Oh, very much so,' said the Maitre'd with a smile.
I realised I knew his voice, from a conference call, something to do with moving something to somewhere else, before Stephen had shut the door on me in my own bloody flat.
'The boys will bring you up to speed, Ms Lanscombe,' said Maitre d'
'Thank you,' I said, playing along for now. 'Newell, isn't it?'
'That's right,' he said, and relaxed. 'No Chateau Lafitte, but you won't see Temple again.'
My ex-boyfriend.
There was a bang from downstairs and I tried to not think about what it might mean. It was a good thing I wasn't attached to him, or this would be very upsetting, like that time I was sure Stephen had hit someone on the road and he'd told me to not worry about it and then of course we'd come here to eat.
Which, well, all made a horrible sense now. They'd probably cleaned his car for him. If they found out about this...
I took a breath and put on a bright, professional smile.
'So,' I said, looking at Newell. 'Who's first?'
I was found out. Of course I was found out, probably the same day. The funny thing was, it took six months for anyone to actually do anything about it, and by then our little semi-independent unit was actually in profit *and* we had a Russian asset in play who was dangerously taken with a server we all nick-named 'the man with the golden bum'. I'd slipped into Stephen's life so well that, instead of being imprisoned, I ended up being deep-vetted then promoted sideways, then promoted again to do exactly the same job in... well, never mind. You don't need to know, and nobody believes that places like this actually exist.
I wouldn't bother with any creative orders at any restaurant you go to, though. That was Stephen Temple's idea, not that Temple was his real name, and Stephen, as we've already established, was a prick.
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We walk toward the restaurant. It was a diner known for their good food, and well hospitality. Being up in Calgary, Canada, I turn on my phone and ask Siri what the weather is, despite knowing it's quite cool out. She says in response, "It's partly sunny with it being 4 Celsius,". So after that, we walk into the diner with my friend Tony ordering a salmon, and being here for years, I looked at the menu, and said "Do you have the Marmaduke? It was my favorite burger here at Anna's Restaurant," , and the lady at the counter said, "We don't have that burger on our menu anymore, but I'll make sure you'll have it Ryan, because you are our loyal customer,".
"Weird," I said to my friend Tony. "What's up with them removing the Marmaduke from the menu? It was my favorite burger. Well, I'm still glad they're making it for me,". My friend looked at me and said "You do know that Alice's Restaurant doesn't even have that burger? It's the restaurant down a few blocks, Anna's Restaurant that has it,". I look at my friend inquisitively, and weirdly noticing that he was right. Suddenly, the waiter came over and she said "Here you go. One Marmaduke burger," and it looked exactly the same as it would at Anna's. It's almost like they knew I'd order it ... but how? Unless we are in Anna's, and my friend Tony is pulling a prank on me. I know it's not Alice's. Or else I will be following a rabbit hole, which I certainty do not want to get into one. Good lord, do I have to literally live the movie as well?
I request the waiter to come back. Stupid move, I know, but I want to know her name. She said "Anna. I am the owner of the restaurant down a few blocks, and knew you were coming. I know how much you love that burger. Everyone tells me that the Marmaduke is our best selling burger, and you always come and get it every weekend. That's how I know who you are Ryan. It's no mystery. You are our loyal customer. Oh, and before you ask, your friend Tony informed me that you were coming here so I wanted to surprise you,". I look at her strangely, and then said "Well it's true, and Tony told you?" I asked while looking at him. "Anyways, I thought there was a movie named Marmaduke? It had a dog in it I believe? That's not important though,".
I ate the Marmaduke, tasting it's lettuce, cheese, onions, tomatoes, beef, ketchup, and ranch that goes on it. It was an extraordinary burger like usual. Just the way I like it. I go up and fill my cup with Coca-Cola Cherry and I sit back down and drink it. I tell Tony, "This is good," with me realizing he had no food still. Suddenly, Anna comes out of the kitchen and delivers him his food, which was the salmon he asked for. It looked delicious, and I got up, and went to the restroom. Suddenly, I felt a hand behind me and Anna said, "Come with us. You'll have to leave Tony behind. It's something sinister. It revolves around this revolver we found in the kitchen. You were trained as a Forensic Scientist to be able to identify this, are you not?". I tell Anna I have to use the restroom, which I do and afterwards, I leave through the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Tony texts me: "Yo, where you at? I can't just pay this myself,". I respond with "No problem, it's on the house. Anna took care of it. I have to go,".
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[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.
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“Can I take your order, sir?” The waitress asks, distractedly. And when I say distractedly, I mean *not even looking at my general direction* distractedly. Wasn’t enough having an especially stressful day at work - did the entire goddamn population of San Francisco decide to break their cars today or something? - I also have to put up with this kind of service, just when I decided to dine outside for once.
Well, screw that. If she doesn’t want to pay attention, that’s on her. “I’ll have two watermelons, a bottle of shrimps and grilled seahorse, please” I say with a grin. Let’s see if she writes that down. *Here’s hoping she at least gets to the kitchen* I think, trying hard to maintain a neutral face. *This is gonna be hilarious!*
Well, that didn’t go as expected. She immediately turns pale and turns to face me. *Uh-oh*, I think, *Busted.*
“Do you mind repeating that, sir?” She says with a much higher tone than before. Well, might as well go a little further. I deserve this laugh, dammit.
“Sure. Two *watermelons*, a bottle of *shrimps* and a grilled *seahorse*. Or are you out of those?” I say with a worried face. This is too good!
She simply stares, too shocked to speak. Okay, this has gone far enough. Poor girl looks like she might have a heart attack. She looks pretty young - 17 or 18 - and I suddenly feel a pang of guilt. What if it’s her first day? “You okay, girl?” I say, now genuinely worried.
She quickly snaps out of whatever trance she was in, though I can still see she’s pretty shaken. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir” She blurts out. “Would... would you mind following me to the manager’s office, sir?” Woah. What did I say? “Uuuhh... alright. Lead the way” I say, getting up. She nods, and makes her way to the manager’s, shooting nervous glances from time to time to see if I’m still behind her. *Why the hell is she so worked up?*
We make it to an old door with a rusty “manager” plaque on it. She knocks. “Mr. Tureen? It’s me.” Silence for a few seconds, then a deep voice - probably the manager - answers. “Come in, Annie. You sound nervous.” It’s true, she still can barely control her voice, which leads me to question what did I say that upset her so badly. She opens the door, and we enter.
The room is very small, and consists of basically a file cabinet at the back and a desk in the center. Behind the desk sits a balding man, although he doesn’t seem that old. The hair that’s left is very black, as if trying to prove the man to which it belongs didn’t lose it out of old age, but maybe out of stress. His face and body look like they might have been moderately fat, although he seems to have lost a very big amount of weight in a very short amount of time. Overall, this seems to be an otherwise very energetic man which has been through some tough times. The plaque on the desk read “Franklin Tureen - Management”.
Mr. Tureen seems very distracted when I and the waitress - whose name is Annie, apparently - enter, which leaves me wondering if there’s a collective attention span disorder around the staff. He, however, immediately notices me, and shoots Annie a questioning glance. “What can I do to help you, sir?” He says, facing me once again.
Annie answers before I can, which is good since I don’t really know the answer to that question. “He ordered two watermelons, a bottle of shrimps and grilled seahorse, sir” she says, unable to help a grin from spreading across her face. So she *isn’t* upset? *What’s going on here?!*
The effect of this phrase is evident. Mr. Tureen jumps from his seat and stares at me, mesmerized. “Really? Is that true?” He asks me, trying to conceal his excitement and failing miserably. “Well... yes, that’s true.” I say with considerable confusion. Mr. Tureen doesn’t seem to note that, as he rushes and traps my hand in a firm handshake.
“Clearance Level 8! Welcome, agent! Lord knows we’ve been in dire need of a sign from the Office. Or what’s left of it, anyway. Sit, sit! What did you say your name was?” He asks, while rushing back to his desk and producing a bottle of whiskey and two cups from one of the drawers.
“Uuuhhh... Jackson Colt” I say, while he pours whiskey into the cups. “I don’t really...” before I can finish, Annie chimes in. “We should tell the rest of the crew first, Mr. Tureen” she squeals with the same excitement as her manager. Mr. Tureen stops pouring and slaps his forehead. “Of course, idiot that I am! Keeping you here while Ritchie and Bramm are holed up in the command room. Annie, be a darling and call ‘em over here, would you?”
Annie hurries to the file cabinet, opens a drawer and half-pulls a file in there, as though it got stuck midway. Suddenly, the file cabinet moves aside, revealing a hidden narrow entrance. She dashes through it, and returns soon after with a muscular man that looks like he is in his twenties but still possessing a bushy mane of brown hair and wearing a cook’s apron, and with a short, skinny man with glasses and a rat-like face who appears to be older. Both are as excited as the two other members of the staff, and start shaking both my hands as soon as they see me.
“I’m Morton Bramm sir, pleased to make your acquaintance...”
“Richard Finnic sir, an honor to meet you...”
“Both of you, leave agent Colt some time to breathe, will you?” Mr. Tureen says cheerfully, and both back off, smiling. He then proceeds to jam a whiskey-filled cup in my hand and empty his. When he’s done, he looks at me and smiles.
“Please excuse our excitement, agent. It’s been a long year since we last heard from the Office. Those damn OST bastards wiped out nearly every Office base on the country - not that it’s news for you, of course. Where did you say you work at?”
“Um... Jackson’s Carjacks” I say, although I have a feeling they don’t want to know where do I actually work at.
“Never heard of it” The muscular guy, Bramm, says quietly.
“Which goes to show how uninformed we’ve grown. They probably moved their base so the OST couldn’t track them” The rat-faced guy, Ritchie, counters. Mr. Tureen nods in agreement. “We’ve been out of the loop for far too long, but agent Colt here will surely give us a hand. A Level 8, no less!” Mr. Tureen chortles to himself, then addresses his employees. “Well, crew, are y’all ready to get back on track?” He shouts. The three respond with a resounding “YES!”. “I didn’t hear you well. ARE YOU READY TO-“
“STOP EVERYTHING!” I shout, and all four turn to face me.
This is going to be rough.
“Guys, listen. I’m not a level 8 agent, or whatever you’ve called me. I don’t know what the Office, OST or any of what you’ve been saying is about” I confess. There’s an awkward silence now, which Annie breaks first. “B-but you ordered...” she starts, but I interrupt her. “I just said a random thing to joke with you. I really had no idea this was your secret code, or whatever. I’m sorry” I say, but the atmosphere has been ruined beyond repair. Mr. Tureen looks like a giant balloon losing its air, and collapses back into his chair with a tired sigh. Annie looks devastated, Bramm looks like a boy whose birthday has just been cancelled, and Ritchie just stares awkwardly at the floor.
Mr. Tureen is the first to speak. “Well, go on then, Bramm. Get the amnestics. Big dose.”
I take a step back instinctively, only to hear a sound besides me which makes me freeze. I turn and see Annie pointing a gun at me. I look at her, and see the fear in her eyes. “Are you going to shoot me?” I ask calmly, but she doesn’t look like she’s in a state to answer. She’s too frightened.
Mr. Tureen answers in Annie’s place. “Not if you stay still, Mr. Colt. I assure you the injection is painless, and the only effect it will have on your brain is making you forget the last 45 minutes. You’ll be perfectly fine if you just-“ Mr. Tureen stops, realizing Bramm hasn’t moved yet. “Well? Why are you still here?” He inquires impatiently.
“Boss, we don’t have any more amnestics. They ran out months ago” He says quietly.
End of Part 1. Already wrote Part 2, but it was too long for a comment. Will post, if people want
Edit: don
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We walk toward the restaurant. It was a diner known for their good food, and well hospitality. Being up in Calgary, Canada, I turn on my phone and ask Siri what the weather is, despite knowing it's quite cool out. She says in response, "It's partly sunny with it being 4 Celsius,". So after that, we walk into the diner with my friend Tony ordering a salmon, and being here for years, I looked at the menu, and said "Do you have the Marmaduke? It was my favorite burger here at Anna's Restaurant," , and the lady at the counter said, "We don't have that burger on our menu anymore, but I'll make sure you'll have it Ryan, because you are our loyal customer,".
"Weird," I said to my friend Tony. "What's up with them removing the Marmaduke from the menu? It was my favorite burger. Well, I'm still glad they're making it for me,". My friend looked at me and said "You do know that Alice's Restaurant doesn't even have that burger? It's the restaurant down a few blocks, Anna's Restaurant that has it,". I look at my friend inquisitively, and weirdly noticing that he was right. Suddenly, the waiter came over and she said "Here you go. One Marmaduke burger," and it looked exactly the same as it would at Anna's. It's almost like they knew I'd order it ... but how? Unless we are in Anna's, and my friend Tony is pulling a prank on me. I know it's not Alice's. Or else I will be following a rabbit hole, which I certainty do not want to get into one. Good lord, do I have to literally live the movie as well?
I request the waiter to come back. Stupid move, I know, but I want to know her name. She said "Anna. I am the owner of the restaurant down a few blocks, and knew you were coming. I know how much you love that burger. Everyone tells me that the Marmaduke is our best selling burger, and you always come and get it every weekend. That's how I know who you are Ryan. It's no mystery. You are our loyal customer. Oh, and before you ask, your friend Tony informed me that you were coming here so I wanted to surprise you,". I look at her strangely, and then said "Well it's true, and Tony told you?" I asked while looking at him. "Anyways, I thought there was a movie named Marmaduke? It had a dog in it I believe? That's not important though,".
I ate the Marmaduke, tasting it's lettuce, cheese, onions, tomatoes, beef, ketchup, and ranch that goes on it. It was an extraordinary burger like usual. Just the way I like it. I go up and fill my cup with Coca-Cola Cherry and I sit back down and drink it. I tell Tony, "This is good," with me realizing he had no food still. Suddenly, Anna comes out of the kitchen and delivers him his food, which was the salmon he asked for. It looked delicious, and I got up, and went to the restroom. Suddenly, I felt a hand behind me and Anna said, "Come with us. You'll have to leave Tony behind. It's something sinister. It revolves around this revolver we found in the kitchen. You were trained as a Forensic Scientist to be able to identify this, are you not?". I tell Anna I have to use the restroom, which I do and afterwards, I leave through the kitchen, and a few minutes later, Tony texts me: "Yo, where you at? I can't just pay this myself,". I respond with "No problem, it's on the house. Anna took care of it. I have to go,".
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[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.
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“Hmmm” Ben mused, scanning the menu over another time. His eyes flicked from the allure of the appetizer section back to the soups. *The tomato looks good* he thought, licking his lips at the thought of the creamy bowl. *Then again, so does the clam chowder.* He looked up at the waitress who raised an eyebrow back at him while her manicured nails tapped her notepad.
“I’d like a bowl of tomato soup, please” Ben finally decided. The waitress mindlessly scribbled a note down on her pad and turned to Ben’s companion, Arthur.
“Are tomatoes even in season?” Arthur asked, looking back and forth between Ben and the waitress. They both shrugged, but he continued. “And don’t forget that Cuchillo’s had an outbreak of salmonella from tomatoes two weeks ago, risky business, Ben.” Ben rolled his eyes at the absent-minded statement, yet it seemed to find home in his psyche.
“You know what,” Ben began, addressing the waitress, “I’ve changed my mind, the clam chowder, is it Manhattan or New England?” The waitress’ eyes grew big for a moment and she leaned a bit closer to the table.
“It’s Rhode Island, sir” she said, looking back at Ben for a response.
“Hmmm, well I wanted New England, but Rhode Island should be good enough, I hear the clams are jumping into the boats this time of year.” The waitress jotted another note down, more precisely this time, and addressed Ben again.
“The soup also comes with a sandwich,” she said as she eyed him more expectantly.
“I’ll order it as an entrée.” The waitress’ eyes suddenly flicked from Ben to Arthur and she nodded, beginning to leave the table.
“Excuse me!” Arthur called after her, “you didn’t take my order.” The waitress walked back frazzled and ran a hand nervously through her hair. “May I have the fried calamari? You can pick from it if you want, Ben,” he added. The waitress hastily scribbled down another note and scurried back to the kitchen.
Passing through the kitchen, she entered a dimly lit back-room. At the center sat a thick, mahogany desk, flanked by two bookshelves. The left bookshelf was meticulously organized, classics such as “The Art of War” and “The Prince” prominently displayed. To the right side of the desk, a plethora of guns hung on the other shelf. At the top, a sniper rifle was mounted, followed downward by an assorted set of shotguns, Uzis and pistols. As for the desk, a large magnum lay atop a copy of “The Campaigns of Alexander,” and behind the desk, a large man lounged in a rich, leather chair. He took a long drag from his Cuban cigar, savoring the nectar of the smoke, and then blew out, the haze dancing across the dim light.
“It’s him,” the waitress curtly stated. “And he’s with a target.” The man nodded and raised a chubby finger, pointing to a bottle of cyanide on his desk. The waitress hurriedly took the bottle and withdrew to the kitchen. She approached the chef making the calamari, pouring a few drops from the bottle into the dish without the chef batting an eye. Then, she peered out the door, watching the two men converse.
“Wanna know what I think, Arthur? I think the waitress is into you.” Ben added the last bit while pointing his straw at Arthur’s chest.
“You really think so, Ben?” he questioned.
“Sure I do! Did you see the way she was fumbling around you, trying to be nonchalant? Hell, she forgot to take your order. Shoot your shot man.” He chuckled, getting a kick out of Arthur’s red face. “Look, here she comes, just watch and play it cool.”
The waitress walked back over with a steaming bowl of soup and a plate stuffed with calamari. As she was putting down the plate, Ben took an eager spoonful of chowder, recoiling and shouting at the sharp pain in his tongue.
“This soup is so hot!” He cried, quickly taking a sip from his water. The waitress jumped suddenly, spilling the plate of calamari on the floor.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” she cried. “Let me go put in another order.” She quickly ran back into the kitchen and Ben smirked at Arthur.
“What did I tell you! She couldn’t even hold the plate steady, man. She’s got the hots for you bad.” Arthur flashed Ben a smile and took a long sip from his own water.
In the back-room, the waitress explained what happened to the big man.
“He gave me the callsign not to kill him. Must have thought he’d get a whiff of the cyanide in the calamari, wanted to do it cleaner. I improvised and dropped the plate.” The man nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip from a glass of bourbon. “I’ll standby and wait for any other signals.”
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I have to go right now and can't give this any more time, but I had more planned and if anyone likes it let me know and I can certainly write more, hope you all find it enjoyable.
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"I'll have a hamburger", I stated to the waitress, smirking slightly.
It was my friend Eric's idea. We both had a long day at work, and needed to blow off some steam before going home to our respective families. While we daily partake of the cliché activity of grabbing a beer at the closest bar, today's overtime demanded food for our grumbling stomachs.
On my way home every day from work, I pass through the "bad part of town," but couldn't help noticing that a run-down Italian restaurant wriggled to life among the ruins of fallen consumer stores. I had suggested this place to Eric, and he immediately grasped onto the idea of pulling one of his despised-by-everyone bad jokes. A quick laugh by the two of us would be a good start to relieving the day's burden.
The waitress immediately retreated to the kitchen, stone-faced shock paralyzing her face. Eric struggled to hold back his laughter, allowing the occasional chuckle to seep through. I shook my head and pointed out that she had forgotten to take his order, let alone the alcohol we typically whet our taste buds with on a daily basis.
A gruff gentleman had burst through the kitchen door, carrying a black briefcase, which was promptly placed before me. As the latches popped open, Eric blurted out, "That was fast," and was immediately put to rest by a smoking gun from the waitress, who was standing beside the man. Before I could react, the briefcase popped open, and I was enveloped by a glowing neon green gas.
The darkness was soothing. I was just about to start dreaming when I awoke to cold, wet, washcloth wiping my face. "<Agent ID 65536, TOP CLEARANCE Granted>," a computerized voice echoed within the white room. The woman wiping my face, wait- it is a robot wiping my face; her upper half was distinctly human, yet her torso blended into polished steel plating and wiring connecting her to a moving base scooting along the floor. She had quickly rolled away and disappeared behind a sliding door hidden within the wall.
I look around frantically and state, "It...it was just a joke! I just want to go home!" Before I could continue, I heard a repeated, "<EJECT>" voice as a familiar green gas filled the room. The coming darkness would free me from my panic.
I came to sitting at the dining room table at home, my face had apparently fallen into a plate of spaghetti. My wife had stated that I had blacked out in the middle of discussing our finances, while my two kids stared at me as I patted the spaghetti sauce from my nose. As I composed myself, my brain constructed fragments to explain what had happened. I surmised that the stress of work caused me to enter a state of delusion, and not coming back to reality until my brain had overloaded and caused me to black out. I took a deep breath and went to bed early.
Eric was not at work the following day.
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[WP] As a prank, you ordered something off the menu in a restaurant. Unbeknownst to you, the place is actually a front and you have just identified yourself as a top level agent.
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“Can I take your order, sir?” The waitress asks, distractedly. And when I say distractedly, I mean *not even looking at my general direction* distractedly. Wasn’t enough having an especially stressful day at work - did the entire goddamn population of San Francisco decide to break their cars today or something? - I also have to put up with this kind of service, just when I decided to dine outside for once.
Well, screw that. If she doesn’t want to pay attention, that’s on her. “I’ll have two watermelons, a bottle of shrimps and grilled seahorse, please” I say with a grin. Let’s see if she writes that down. *Here’s hoping she at least gets to the kitchen* I think, trying hard to maintain a neutral face. *This is gonna be hilarious!*
Well, that didn’t go as expected. She immediately turns pale and turns to face me. *Uh-oh*, I think, *Busted.*
“Do you mind repeating that, sir?” She says with a much higher tone than before. Well, might as well go a little further. I deserve this laugh, dammit.
“Sure. Two *watermelons*, a bottle of *shrimps* and a grilled *seahorse*. Or are you out of those?” I say with a worried face. This is too good!
She simply stares, too shocked to speak. Okay, this has gone far enough. Poor girl looks like she might have a heart attack. She looks pretty young - 17 or 18 - and I suddenly feel a pang of guilt. What if it’s her first day? “You okay, girl?” I say, now genuinely worried.
She quickly snaps out of whatever trance she was in, though I can still see she’s pretty shaken. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir” She blurts out. “Would... would you mind following me to the manager’s office, sir?” Woah. What did I say? “Uuuhh... alright. Lead the way” I say, getting up. She nods, and makes her way to the manager’s, shooting nervous glances from time to time to see if I’m still behind her. *Why the hell is she so worked up?*
We make it to an old door with a rusty “manager” plaque on it. She knocks. “Mr. Tureen? It’s me.” Silence for a few seconds, then a deep voice - probably the manager - answers. “Come in, Annie. You sound nervous.” It’s true, she still can barely control her voice, which leads me to question what did I say that upset her so badly. She opens the door, and we enter.
The room is very small, and consists of basically a file cabinet at the back and a desk in the center. Behind the desk sits a balding man, although he doesn’t seem that old. The hair that’s left is very black, as if trying to prove the man to which it belongs didn’t lose it out of old age, but maybe out of stress. His face and body look like they might have been moderately fat, although he seems to have lost a very big amount of weight in a very short amount of time. Overall, this seems to be an otherwise very energetic man which has been through some tough times. The plaque on the desk read “Franklin Tureen - Management”.
Mr. Tureen seems very distracted when I and the waitress - whose name is Annie, apparently - enter, which leaves me wondering if there’s a collective attention span disorder around the staff. He, however, immediately notices me, and shoots Annie a questioning glance. “What can I do to help you, sir?” He says, facing me once again.
Annie answers before I can, which is good since I don’t really know the answer to that question. “He ordered two watermelons, a bottle of shrimps and grilled seahorse, sir” she says, unable to help a grin from spreading across her face. So she *isn’t* upset? *What’s going on here?!*
The effect of this phrase is evident. Mr. Tureen jumps from his seat and stares at me, mesmerized. “Really? Is that true?” He asks me, trying to conceal his excitement and failing miserably. “Well... yes, that’s true.” I say with considerable confusion. Mr. Tureen doesn’t seem to note that, as he rushes and traps my hand in a firm handshake.
“Clearance Level 8! Welcome, agent! Lord knows we’ve been in dire need of a sign from the Office. Or what’s left of it, anyway. Sit, sit! What did you say your name was?” He asks, while rushing back to his desk and producing a bottle of whiskey and two cups from one of the drawers.
“Uuuhhh... Jackson Colt” I say, while he pours whiskey into the cups. “I don’t really...” before I can finish, Annie chimes in. “We should tell the rest of the crew first, Mr. Tureen” she squeals with the same excitement as her manager. Mr. Tureen stops pouring and slaps his forehead. “Of course, idiot that I am! Keeping you here while Ritchie and Bramm are holed up in the command room. Annie, be a darling and call ‘em over here, would you?”
Annie hurries to the file cabinet, opens a drawer and half-pulls a file in there, as though it got stuck midway. Suddenly, the file cabinet moves aside, revealing a hidden narrow entrance. She dashes through it, and returns soon after with a muscular man that looks like he is in his twenties but still possessing a bushy mane of brown hair and wearing a cook’s apron, and with a short, skinny man with glasses and a rat-like face who appears to be older. Both are as excited as the two other members of the staff, and start shaking both my hands as soon as they see me.
“I’m Morton Bramm sir, pleased to make your acquaintance...”
“Richard Finnic sir, an honor to meet you...”
“Both of you, leave agent Colt some time to breathe, will you?” Mr. Tureen says cheerfully, and both back off, smiling. He then proceeds to jam a whiskey-filled cup in my hand and empty his. When he’s done, he looks at me and smiles.
“Please excuse our excitement, agent. It’s been a long year since we last heard from the Office. Those damn OST bastards wiped out nearly every Office base on the country - not that it’s news for you, of course. Where did you say you work at?”
“Um... Jackson’s Carjacks” I say, although I have a feeling they don’t want to know where do I actually work at.
“Never heard of it” The muscular guy, Bramm, says quietly.
“Which goes to show how uninformed we’ve grown. They probably moved their base so the OST couldn’t track them” The rat-faced guy, Ritchie, counters. Mr. Tureen nods in agreement. “We’ve been out of the loop for far too long, but agent Colt here will surely give us a hand. A Level 8, no less!” Mr. Tureen chortles to himself, then addresses his employees. “Well, crew, are y’all ready to get back on track?” He shouts. The three respond with a resounding “YES!”. “I didn’t hear you well. ARE YOU READY TO-“
“STOP EVERYTHING!” I shout, and all four turn to face me.
This is going to be rough.
“Guys, listen. I’m not a level 8 agent, or whatever you’ve called me. I don’t know what the Office, OST or any of what you’ve been saying is about” I confess. There’s an awkward silence now, which Annie breaks first. “B-but you ordered...” she starts, but I interrupt her. “I just said a random thing to joke with you. I really had no idea this was your secret code, or whatever. I’m sorry” I say, but the atmosphere has been ruined beyond repair. Mr. Tureen looks like a giant balloon losing its air, and collapses back into his chair with a tired sigh. Annie looks devastated, Bramm looks like a boy whose birthday has just been cancelled, and Ritchie just stares awkwardly at the floor.
Mr. Tureen is the first to speak. “Well, go on then, Bramm. Get the amnestics. Big dose.”
I take a step back instinctively, only to hear a sound besides me which makes me freeze. I turn and see Annie pointing a gun at me. I look at her, and see the fear in her eyes. “Are you going to shoot me?” I ask calmly, but she doesn’t look like she’s in a state to answer. She’s too frightened.
Mr. Tureen answers in Annie’s place. “Not if you stay still, Mr. Colt. I assure you the injection is painless, and the only effect it will have on your brain is making you forget the last 45 minutes. You’ll be perfectly fine if you just-“ Mr. Tureen stops, realizing Bramm hasn’t moved yet. “Well? Why are you still here?” He inquires impatiently.
“Boss, we don’t have any more amnestics. They ran out months ago” He says quietly.
End of Part 1. Already wrote Part 2, but it was too long for a comment. Will post, if people want
Edit: don
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(I treat this as flash fiction, I stop at 25 min. Just to get my brain working for the day)
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Every day for the past six months, Natalie put on her best smile. And the appropraite black skirt or pants. White shirt and tie. She grabbed her order pad. And the nametag that said "Susan."
"Wings and any craft IPA - surprise me, " said Chicken Pierce. She was sure his name wans't chicken pierce. But she was told always to take the first thing that struck her when a customer made and order to help her remember.
Dirty Glasses said, "Vegan burger, double cheese, double bacon, and a side of fries, if you don't have Chicharrones." He snorted.
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Susan, nearly dropped her pen. "W-what did you say?"
Dirty glasses looked into my eyes and said, "Susan. I want a Vegan burger. Double. Cheese. Double bacon. And. A. Side. Of. Fries. If you don't have Chicharrones. "
Countersign. "Vegan? Are you sure."
DG said "I'm 110% sure."
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Nodding slowly, Nat took out her hair band. Her eyes shot left and right, not moving her head. She took down the words she knew all too well.
Stepping to the drink station, she poured two glasses of water. Some of it spilled on her hand.
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Taking the dozen steps to the table, she met the eyes of three other servers. Each one, Nat opened her mouth just a little and touched her upper lip. She could see the last one's eyes go wide.
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Nat walked over to the table, placed Dirty Glasses's water down. Chicken Pierce was on the left. The other glass of water hit the table and then she knocked it into his lap.
It takes just over two seconds for the realization to happen. By then Nat had slid into the seat and had her gun just under the table - pointed at Chicken's gut.
He started to scramble, starting to brush the water and ice off his lap.
"Stay, say nothing. Don't move," Nat said looking into his eyes.
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"Lady, there's wate ..." he continued.
Her voice shook, but her hand didn't. "Look down. Better water than blood. What's you're name?"
"G...gus. Jesus C..."
Two of the three other servers had appeared with nearly no sound. Guns out - pointed at Gus's head.
Nat heard the third server, Kevin, the one with wide eyes, announce "Everyone, please stay still. This is a government operation. We're with the FBI." She knew they weren't, but it was easier than explaining who they were with.
The 90s music was still playing, but the conversation in the room was gone.
"Gus, use two fingers, left hand, and pull your wallet out. Slowly." Nat emphasised that last word.
Glasses said, "Uh, Susan....uh, wewerejustplayingajoke. Iswearitwas"
Nat swung her head over towards him. "What? "
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[WP] Your super power is common sense. When the super hero teams go out, you are there to take care of basic tasks for the sheltered supers, such as buying metro passes, ordering food, taking phone calls, and sometimes saving the day.
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The situation was dire. It was more than dire, it was disastrous. There were no solutions and there would never be any solutions and the world was doomed!
"Hey buddy?"
Karen's voice was probing, curious, but not overtly concerned. She didn't understand. Karen NEVER understood.
"I'm a little tied up at the moment Kar. Baby Boomer had some kind of gas that sapped my super strength and trapped me in a well with a massive bomb."
A beat of expectant silence then-
"Yep. That's what I wanted to talk about."
She always does this. She always talks to me like I'm an idiot! Who is the one out there every day saving lives? Not Karen that's for sure.
"Do you remember when D. Roboto tried to take over the city by using people's phone's as remote control devices for those kill bots?"
Ugh. "Yes. Karen. I remember, I was there."
"Right, right" that supercilious tone "do you remember how you guys took care of that?"
I hate when she does this. Always asking leading questions like I can't think about things without her holding my hand. I was THERE! Archer took out the cell towers, She Devil was in charge of henchmen, Flagship went on TV and schmoozed the public. I flew around and took out the... I flew around and....shit. She's going to be insufferable when she gets my coffee tomorrow.
"Dr. Roboto is about a half mile to the east at the crow flies. If you could pop by Archer's cell on the way out and remind him that, as a retired super spy, his skills do include lock picking. And tell him that keeping his communicator on is SOP. That'd be great."
She's just so unapologetically competent. It's super annoying.
"Also, Lucy's birthday is next week and you still haven't gotten her a gift. She dropped major hints at a new watch and there's a sale going on that ends day after tomorrow. See you back at HQ."
Ugh.
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You know, kids like to imagine themselves as "superhero" saving the day. But then, they face the hard truth: they don't have any superpower, and they are forced to grow up.
The problem with superheros is that they do have superpower, so they never need to grow up. Eternal kids playing in the world playground, unable to have any common sense.
But even as a kid, I was already different. I did not want any superpower like "flying" or "laser-eyes". The superpower I wanted was "being like my mother". Whatever happened, she though about it in advance. Of course she had THE thing we needed in her bag. Organizing an event for 200 people, with accommodation and lunch? Easy job, just give the right orders to the right people (usually my father and my uncle). Always organizing big surprise events, sometimes even receiving some important peoples. Always aware of anything that happened. Always thinking about the little details and caring about everyone. I wanted to be a "super-mother!". Which, said like that, and as a boy, didn't help me to have friends, so I ended up having for only friends the weird kids: some young superheros not yet understanding how their power works.
Fast forward ten years later, we're a "team of superheros". Or mostly "THE team of superheros", because most other teams died, were forced into retirement, or ended up in prison, for not having someone like me in their team.
There is Bob. Also known as "The Beast". Each time he transforms, he forget his clothes behind, with all its belongings.
There is Hector. Also known as "Telek". He is able to make things float, and call them to him. He is used to just say "Actio! Tea cup!" when he needs one. Which mean that's always a mess behind him, he never remember where he put his stuffs, and he always assume what he need will be in range of his power. I've recently manage to convince him that putting the dishes in the washing machine would be a good regular training for him, since precision telekinesis is something he still has problems with.
There is Alicia. Also known as "Slowmotion". She is able to make things slow down, or even stop in time. Completely unable to be on time. Completely unable to answer a call before it's too late.
And finally, there is Elisa. Also known as "E". She is our "technology expert". She would probably starve if I wasn't there to order some food for her. Working with her is quite funny, since she always forget some very basic stuff, like "a gadget should have be autonomous for more than 10 minutes, and wireless". And I absolutely have to forbid her to "improve" my tools. The last thing we want is the phone starting to ask questions about why he shouldn't self-destroy.
Oh, and there is also me. I don't have any special code name. They like to call me "Boss". The media call me "The Secretary", and are still wondering who is the "Boss" the 4 superheros talk about. (Is it the president? Is he an Illuminati?)
Ah, and I almost forgot to talk about their nemesis. If superheros are kids that never grew up, their enemies are definitely teenagers that never grew up.
There is "Mister Destruction". He always post on Facebook before his attacks, under the pseudo "Master Destructa" and doesn't understand how heroes team manage to find him. More an annoyance than a threat.
There is "Professor Ultra-Moon". Actually pretty dangerous. But every single of its invention require a full moon to work, and no cloud blocking it. So with some coordination with police, I'm able to anticipate where he will try his next operation, and organize that with the team.
There is "Dark Dark Dark". She want to be evil since her superheros parents neglected her, but she is fundamentally a good person. Usually the supers perturb her plans enough to make her start monologuing, and once I've understood her plan, I call her on her personal number and convince her that her plan will actually hurt innocent peoples, and that she should find another way to be evil.
And finally, there is "The Prophet". She follows her "prophecy", one day trying to destroy the world. One day building a sect. And she always seems to know in advance what the superheros will do, so she get away each time. She never succeed to anything though. The media usually jokes about her prophesies being only useful to runaway.
Oh, and there is also me. Under the name "The Dark Lord". You see, the main problem with superheros is that if they run out of bad guys, they will start fighting each other for pride or celebrity, or obeying to government and participating in wars. Even worse, if true "super-bad-guys" would appear, battle between supers would start having a lot more casualties.
"The only way to be sure to win is to control both sides. But don't count on mind control, it never lasts long enough." That's what my mother used to say.
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[WP] Your super power is common sense. When the super hero teams go out, you are there to take care of basic tasks for the sheltered supers, such as buying metro passes, ordering food, taking phone calls, and sometimes saving the day.
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I've always been of the mind that people tend to have a similar level of expertise, just distributed in different ways. Some scientists are quirky because they traded off sanity for knowledge, while middle managers invert this. To my chagrin, but ever continuing employment, supers are no exception to this.
Their sheltered upbringing is part of the issue. Powers tend to manifest by the time a child reaches adolescence. Reliable control lags until their early twenties. After a few years of chaos, governments throughout the world took to identifying powered individuals, and determining if they would be a threat to society. Those that qualified were sent to boarding schools to train with their powers. Most of them were ten when they left mainstream society. Now imagine what happens when you sequester a group of ten year olds for a decade, while training them to use powers that can level a city. The end result is a group of immensely powerful adults with no idea of how the world works.
First off, they have no concept of collateral damage. Gravitron (Gravity manipulation, Class A) once increased the gravity twofold in the entirety of Manhattan to catch a villain. His gambit worked, but it took MONTHS to sort out the injury claims that this caused. He seemed shocked to realize that most people don't do well with sudden changes in gravity. To his eternal credit, he gave a heartfelt public apology soon after, maintaining good public opinion of supers in New York.
Second, they just expect things to magically appear. When the Fabulous Five was scheduled to patrol Chicago, it was my responsibility to make sure they were fed, clothed, and transported to where they needed to be. This seems simple enough at the surface, but try to figure out a menu for a being that resides mostly in another dimension, an iron skinned wrestler with an appetite, and carnivorous animal companions. I managed it, but I had to pull a few strings with gangs in Chinatown to keep up with the endless demand for victuals.
Last, they have this strange delusion that they can solve all of their problems with their powers. The most egregious example was when they fought WallFire (Mad Scientist, Class S). He had developed a shield that would protect him from energy blasts, blunt force attacks, and mind control. Combined with his army of robotic lackeys, the supers of Washington DC found him unstoppable. As they retreated to the transport aircraft, I looked at the forlorn supers. All of them had suffered terrible wounds, and ArcLight (Healing/Light Manipulation, Class S) was unconscious from blood loss. They all seemed at a loss, muttering, "Fists, fire, lasers, none of it works! How on earth did he manage to stop all superpowers with one shield?"
I asked, "Was he wearing body armor?"
"No, just a force field mounted on his belt buckle. "
I remembered something from my briefings on energy shields. While it usually took someone with a Mad Scientist powerset to build them, they always forgot something. I ordered the pilot to ready for takeoff, then decided to act on a hunch. I pulled out my trusty Glock 23, and moved to the open rear of the aircraft. I saw WallFire advancing toward us on a small hovercraft, a predatory grin from ear to ear. I looked at his getup to assess the threat. Standard white lab coat, t-shirt and jeans, but there was also a large circular belt buckle, glowing with energy. If he had decided to defend against powers, he wouldn't bother to deal with mundane weaponry. I held the pistol with a practical two-handed grip, aimed carefully down the sights and squeezed the trigger.
A deafening report sounded in the cramped confines of the transport. WallFire fell from a bullet to the heart. His armies came to a screeching halt. I looked at the bedraggled heroes for a long minute, and they stared back in awe.
I asked, unable to mask my exasperation, "Did it ever occur to you to just try and shoot him?"
Through my time as a supers manager, I developed a kinship for these people. Yes, they often screw up, but it's childlike, in a way. Their hearts are always in the right place, even if it takes a while for their brains to catch up. It's my job to deal with the gaps in their understanding, to manage the consequences of their actions.
I wouldn't trade it for the world.
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You know, kids like to imagine themselves as "superhero" saving the day. But then, they face the hard truth: they don't have any superpower, and they are forced to grow up.
The problem with superheros is that they do have superpower, so they never need to grow up. Eternal kids playing in the world playground, unable to have any common sense.
But even as a kid, I was already different. I did not want any superpower like "flying" or "laser-eyes". The superpower I wanted was "being like my mother". Whatever happened, she though about it in advance. Of course she had THE thing we needed in her bag. Organizing an event for 200 people, with accommodation and lunch? Easy job, just give the right orders to the right people (usually my father and my uncle). Always organizing big surprise events, sometimes even receiving some important peoples. Always aware of anything that happened. Always thinking about the little details and caring about everyone. I wanted to be a "super-mother!". Which, said like that, and as a boy, didn't help me to have friends, so I ended up having for only friends the weird kids: some young superheros not yet understanding how their power works.
Fast forward ten years later, we're a "team of superheros". Or mostly "THE team of superheros", because most other teams died, were forced into retirement, or ended up in prison, for not having someone like me in their team.
There is Bob. Also known as "The Beast". Each time he transforms, he forget his clothes behind, with all its belongings.
There is Hector. Also known as "Telek". He is able to make things float, and call them to him. He is used to just say "Actio! Tea cup!" when he needs one. Which mean that's always a mess behind him, he never remember where he put his stuffs, and he always assume what he need will be in range of his power. I've recently manage to convince him that putting the dishes in the washing machine would be a good regular training for him, since precision telekinesis is something he still has problems with.
There is Alicia. Also known as "Slowmotion". She is able to make things slow down, or even stop in time. Completely unable to be on time. Completely unable to answer a call before it's too late.
And finally, there is Elisa. Also known as "E". She is our "technology expert". She would probably starve if I wasn't there to order some food for her. Working with her is quite funny, since she always forget some very basic stuff, like "a gadget should have be autonomous for more than 10 minutes, and wireless". And I absolutely have to forbid her to "improve" my tools. The last thing we want is the phone starting to ask questions about why he shouldn't self-destroy.
Oh, and there is also me. I don't have any special code name. They like to call me "Boss". The media call me "The Secretary", and are still wondering who is the "Boss" the 4 superheros talk about. (Is it the president? Is he an Illuminati?)
Ah, and I almost forgot to talk about their nemesis. If superheros are kids that never grew up, their enemies are definitely teenagers that never grew up.
There is "Mister Destruction". He always post on Facebook before his attacks, under the pseudo "Master Destructa" and doesn't understand how heroes team manage to find him. More an annoyance than a threat.
There is "Professor Ultra-Moon". Actually pretty dangerous. But every single of its invention require a full moon to work, and no cloud blocking it. So with some coordination with police, I'm able to anticipate where he will try his next operation, and organize that with the team.
There is "Dark Dark Dark". She want to be evil since her superheros parents neglected her, but she is fundamentally a good person. Usually the supers perturb her plans enough to make her start monologuing, and once I've understood her plan, I call her on her personal number and convince her that her plan will actually hurt innocent peoples, and that she should find another way to be evil.
And finally, there is "The Prophet". She follows her "prophecy", one day trying to destroy the world. One day building a sect. And she always seems to know in advance what the superheros will do, so she get away each time. She never succeed to anything though. The media usually jokes about her prophesies being only useful to runaway.
Oh, and there is also me. Under the name "The Dark Lord". You see, the main problem with superheros is that if they run out of bad guys, they will start fighting each other for pride or celebrity, or obeying to government and participating in wars. Even worse, if true "super-bad-guys" would appear, battle between supers would start having a lot more casualties.
"The only way to be sure to win is to control both sides. But don't count on mind control, it never lasts long enough." That's what my mother used to say.
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[WP] Humanity has touched the stars. Countless millennia have past and Earth has become a myth, a story to tell your children at night. You were one of those children, inspired by the idea all of humanity coming from a single planet, you set you sights to Earth to try and find the human birthplace.
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Gathered friends, listen again to our legend. In the time before time, there was Earth. Cold and alone, she wandered the great nothingness, searching for a purpose. It was there that the Sun, a great being, powerful and in his prime, took pity on Earth and so drew her into his warm embrace. Sun bathed Earth in his heat, and it was in this loving embrace they created us: those we call man, as well as the plants and animals, the air we breathe the water we drink to sustain us. It was a time of great happiness. It was a time of great innovation, and the ancients created on this world wonders that you cannot imagine.
&#x200B;
But it was not to last. There was another, who was known as Moon. Where Sun gazed lovingly into the eyes of Earth, and she fallowed closely to him in his orbit, Moon existed only in shadows, always neglected behind Earths turned back. Moon orbited Earth as she orbited Sun, holding onto the hope Sun might one day lose his light, and Earth may turn her favor onto him.
&#x200B;
But Moon grew impatient waiting. Every day he watched Earth and Sun grow closer together, and each day his resentment grew, It was in shadow he stewed, and it was into shadow he became. But it wasn't until the great meteor appeared that he finally made up his mind to act. The great meteor chided Moon for being so passive, for lurking in the shadows of the one he loved. This meteor struck Moon as it passed, stirring up an anger and hatred Moon did not know he possessed. He was no longer satisfied to merely orbit Earth from a distance. And so Moon attacked Earth, blinded by his own fury, striking Earth much like the meteor had struck him, which sent Earth rocketing towards that who *she* loved most. The Sun. Sun was a very powerful being, but even he could not extinguish the very light that made him so strong. Us humans tried as best we could to help, but it soon became obvious that the very warmth that had given them life would also be that which ended it. Tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts, they abandoned their home in search of a new one. But as they did they made a vow. A vow that they would one day return.
&#x200B;
The Elder finished his story and sat back down, eager to bathe himself again in the heat of the campfire. "And so it is my friends, that we have kept this ship safe and hidden away, waiting for the day we would cast off the restraints and urge her to fly again into the great nothingness, to our true home."
&#x200B;
Hector rubbed his hands together, more out of nervous habit than from the icy wind itself. Hector had been selected as the Captain. The man who would drive them to salvation. He had steered many a vessel, and he always believed that they were all the same. All it took was a little coaxing, and no matter the vessel she would obey your command like a sheepdog. But this ship was not like any he had seen before. The color, the texture. It wasn't made of wood, or bamboo, or rock or sand or any other material he was used to. Without raising his head, Hectors eyes flitted around the campsite. All eyes had turned to him. Waiting for him, expecting him to reveal a plan or if nothing else offer some kind of reassurance. Uneasily, he cleared his throat.
&#x200B;
"Years ago, we were driven from our home. It may have happened before we were born, it may have happened to those who are long dead by now, but it happened and we are intrinsically linked by association. Linked by blood. Their hearts live on through us, and it pains them every day to live our lives and look up into the sky and see the Moon staring down at us. Laughing at us. Mocking us. Our ancestors believe in us. I can feel them, and so can you," murmurs tiptoed around the fire, and it looked like hands were rising to their chests as if trying to feel the fingertips of the dead reaching to get our. Imprisoned by the rib-cages of the living. "I'm not here to lie to you. I see this vessel and I'm filled with dread. I don't have the first idea how to coax her to return to the skies she fled so fearfully from years before. But as she lights up under the glare of this fire, as she reveals some material not of this planet, I feel the dread leaking away and being replaced," Hector paused. He took a moment to look around the camp, making and holding the eyes of all who surrounded him. It wasn't until what felt like an entire lifetime had passed that he continued, "my friends, I felt hope."
&#x200B;
Hector was the last one through the vessel door, and he closed it and sealed it behind him. The SSSSS of some locking mechanism activating behind him struck him with a deep sadness. That sound was the sound of his old home, the world he had grown up on and lived his whole life on, being sealed behind him permanently. Never again would he open that door and see the red sandy beaches, the light blue foliage of the treeline, nor would be hear the whistling of the wind passing through the leaf-chimes. Everything that had been familiar was now behind him.
&#x200B;
As he turned, putting his back to the door, he realized once again all eyes were on him. Only this time, the uncertainty had disappeared. All the familiarity he needed was standing before him. And they would fallow him regardless of what world they traveled too. In the distance he could hear a feint rumbling. Just another reminder their world was about to collapse. That this was it. "Hope," he said again. He smiled. Because this time he believed it himself.
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Fredrick Von Hammenstein XVII hands flew across the control panel, entering orders to the ship’s onboard AI. He flinched as he heard the voices again, whispering commands. They had guided him from a young age, to seek out the birthplace of Humanity, Earth. Many had called him crazy, which in part he was. They had shunned him from society, and further into the madness he delved. The voices had been his only friends, and they promised him revenge against the people that had branded him. He brought his hand to the ugly burn on his face in remembrance. The Mark of the Mad they called it, given to those deemed to insane. Fredrick finished imputing the controls, and sat back as the ship began to land softly on the planet. This had to be Earth. It had to be. He did not spend his whole entire life chasing rumors and legends, led on by the whispers in his head. He wouldn’t give up. Not after coming so far. And the voices edged him on, to leave his ship and head to the nearby mountain, and then he could be free of all the pain and torture he had felt for all his life. Fredrick merely opened the hatch, and stepped out into the most beautiful world he had ever seen. He quickly tore his eyes away from nature’s beauty, and began his trek to the mountain.
When he finally arrived at dusk, the voices had begun again, guiding him to a small cave. He entered the cave, and they guided him deeper and deeper into the dark. It wasn’t until it almost became too dark to see that he finally found a door. The voices edged him onward, and he obeyed, opening the door, and stepping into the room beyond. A bright light washed over him, and the voices quieted. Fredrick eyes were glued to the databanks within this room. Rows and rows of them, all humming and giving off a slight glow. And in unison, the voices merely said “You’ve found us,” and then they were quiet, leaving Fredrick to brew in his thoughts.
From mobile, and this is my first time writing here, so I hope you all enjoyed it.
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[WP] Humanity has touched the stars. Countless millennia have past and Earth has become a myth, a story to tell your children at night. You were one of those children, inspired by the idea all of humanity coming from a single planet, you set you sights to Earth to try and find the human birthplace.
|
Gathered friends, listen again to our legend. In the time before time, there was Earth. Cold and alone, she wandered the great nothingness, searching for a purpose. It was there that the Sun, a great being, powerful and in his prime, took pity on Earth and so drew her into his warm embrace. Sun bathed Earth in his heat, and it was in this loving embrace they created us: those we call man, as well as the plants and animals, the air we breathe the water we drink to sustain us. It was a time of great happiness. It was a time of great innovation, and the ancients created on this world wonders that you cannot imagine.
&#x200B;
But it was not to last. There was another, who was known as Moon. Where Sun gazed lovingly into the eyes of Earth, and she fallowed closely to him in his orbit, Moon existed only in shadows, always neglected behind Earths turned back. Moon orbited Earth as she orbited Sun, holding onto the hope Sun might one day lose his light, and Earth may turn her favor onto him.
&#x200B;
But Moon grew impatient waiting. Every day he watched Earth and Sun grow closer together, and each day his resentment grew, It was in shadow he stewed, and it was into shadow he became. But it wasn't until the great meteor appeared that he finally made up his mind to act. The great meteor chided Moon for being so passive, for lurking in the shadows of the one he loved. This meteor struck Moon as it passed, stirring up an anger and hatred Moon did not know he possessed. He was no longer satisfied to merely orbit Earth from a distance. And so Moon attacked Earth, blinded by his own fury, striking Earth much like the meteor had struck him, which sent Earth rocketing towards that who *she* loved most. The Sun. Sun was a very powerful being, but even he could not extinguish the very light that made him so strong. Us humans tried as best we could to help, but it soon became obvious that the very warmth that had given them life would also be that which ended it. Tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts, they abandoned their home in search of a new one. But as they did they made a vow. A vow that they would one day return.
&#x200B;
The Elder finished his story and sat back down, eager to bathe himself again in the heat of the campfire. "And so it is my friends, that we have kept this ship safe and hidden away, waiting for the day we would cast off the restraints and urge her to fly again into the great nothingness, to our true home."
&#x200B;
Hector rubbed his hands together, more out of nervous habit than from the icy wind itself. Hector had been selected as the Captain. The man who would drive them to salvation. He had steered many a vessel, and he always believed that they were all the same. All it took was a little coaxing, and no matter the vessel she would obey your command like a sheepdog. But this ship was not like any he had seen before. The color, the texture. It wasn't made of wood, or bamboo, or rock or sand or any other material he was used to. Without raising his head, Hectors eyes flitted around the campsite. All eyes had turned to him. Waiting for him, expecting him to reveal a plan or if nothing else offer some kind of reassurance. Uneasily, he cleared his throat.
&#x200B;
"Years ago, we were driven from our home. It may have happened before we were born, it may have happened to those who are long dead by now, but it happened and we are intrinsically linked by association. Linked by blood. Their hearts live on through us, and it pains them every day to live our lives and look up into the sky and see the Moon staring down at us. Laughing at us. Mocking us. Our ancestors believe in us. I can feel them, and so can you," murmurs tiptoed around the fire, and it looked like hands were rising to their chests as if trying to feel the fingertips of the dead reaching to get our. Imprisoned by the rib-cages of the living. "I'm not here to lie to you. I see this vessel and I'm filled with dread. I don't have the first idea how to coax her to return to the skies she fled so fearfully from years before. But as she lights up under the glare of this fire, as she reveals some material not of this planet, I feel the dread leaking away and being replaced," Hector paused. He took a moment to look around the camp, making and holding the eyes of all who surrounded him. It wasn't until what felt like an entire lifetime had passed that he continued, "my friends, I felt hope."
&#x200B;
Hector was the last one through the vessel door, and he closed it and sealed it behind him. The SSSSS of some locking mechanism activating behind him struck him with a deep sadness. That sound was the sound of his old home, the world he had grown up on and lived his whole life on, being sealed behind him permanently. Never again would he open that door and see the red sandy beaches, the light blue foliage of the treeline, nor would be hear the whistling of the wind passing through the leaf-chimes. Everything that had been familiar was now behind him.
&#x200B;
As he turned, putting his back to the door, he realized once again all eyes were on him. Only this time, the uncertainty had disappeared. All the familiarity he needed was standing before him. And they would fallow him regardless of what world they traveled too. In the distance he could hear a feint rumbling. Just another reminder their world was about to collapse. That this was it. "Hope," he said again. He smiled. Because this time he believed it himself.
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\[Poem\]
&#x200B;
Within this hull lies dark and cold
a voyager, in search of legends told
of memories and treasures there,
just beyond our common sphere.
&#x200B;
A lost history of common light
just beyond the horizon, out of sight
intrigues me so, and thus I send
my body to the known realm's end.
&#x200B;
Within my dreams, it seems not far,
as if held by the nearest star
in my vision- though those are dreams.
That's all they ever seem to be.
&#x200B;
Within this hull lies dark and cold
a passenger, a tale untold-
an endless voyage towards the Earth-
the planet of the human birth.
&#x200B;
r/Jonay
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[WP] Humanity has touched the stars. Countless millennia have past and Earth has become a myth, a story to tell your children at night. You were one of those children, inspired by the idea all of humanity coming from a single planet, you set you sights to Earth to try and find the human birthplace.
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"Captain, we're edging up on The Origin Point. Do you want to come up to the deck to see it?" My first mate, Amar, asks.
I shoot him a half-smile and reply, "In a moment, Mar."
"Don't wait too long! You've worked far too hard to let this moment pass." Amar winks at me before exiting the room.
My half-smile fades with Amar's footsteps. I close my eyes as my heart rate soars and my chest seizes up. I open my eyes and walk over to my bed, sitting down on the firm mattress. I look around at the posters on my walls. Each and every one is a memento of this mission and of my dreams that have lead up to it. For as long as I can remember, I sought the place where humanity was born. I studied the universe, pored tirelessly over ancient texts for any indication of the true location of The Origin Point, known to my ancestors as Earth. My breathing quickens, though little air seems to enter my lungs. It is as though my anxiety has a hand that is clenching around my sternum and attempting to rip it out of my skin. I rub my cold, sweaty hands on my cheeks before standing up. I don't know why I am so nervous. I am excited, to be sure, but there is another kind of anxiety there, too -- one that is a far cry from excitement.
'*Ah, calm down, Roma,*' I think to myself. '*Just be happy today, on the day you are finally living the dream that has permeated your every waking hour for as long as you can remember. This is the kind of day that comes once in a million years for a single soul.*'
I pick up my captain's hat from my bedside table and straighten my uniform. I smile at my own plump, tanned face in the mirror, and repeat to myself horribly cheesy lines like, '*You've got this! Go Roma!*' I shake my head, feeling a blush warm my cheeks as I turn away, smirking at myself. I fix my posture and then depart my room.
I take the elevator to the bridge, several floors above the sleeping quarters....
&#x200B;
(To be continued)
&#x200B;
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It had been a long two years, but they'd finally made it. According to all of the star maps they'd dug up, they would be nearing Earth's orbit within the next few minutes. Janice couldn't believe it- after over ten-thousand years, they'd be the first humans to lay eyes on their home world once again.
Finding it had been incredibly difficult. The planet had long passed into the realm of myth, and no publicly-available star map even made mention of the place. Over the years as she had searched more an more, hacking into military and government networks and bribing officials for copies, she and her crew had been able to narrow down it's location. And now, finally, they were so close.
"Coming out now," Combs, the pilot, said, as they dropped out of slip-space.
There was a series of astonished calls and murmurs as they were greeted by an asteroid field.
"Combs, double check our coordinates." Janice called out.
"On it." Combs replied.
They were supposed to be near Earth. Had they overshot it and come out on the opposite side of the Kupier-belt?
There were more murmurs of confusion and disbelief, this time from Combs. "This...can't be right."
"What?" Janice asked, impatient and frustrated. They were so close, and she couldn't believe that a pilot like Combs could have overshot their destination so horribly.
"We're at the right coordinates." Combs called back.
"But that's impossible." Janice called back.
"I'm looking at the star map right now. The planet called Mars is behind us, and that body out there?" He said as a square formed on the viewer over a specific star-like body far off in the blackness of space, "That's Venus. We're in Earth orbit right now."
Janice could feel her stomach drop as she turned her attention back to the collection of asteroids that were drifting in front of them, several hundred miles out, as the horrible realization hit her.
"Then...these asteroids...would be..." She couldn't complete the sentence.
"Yes." Combs finally replied after a long, horrible pause.
Janice could hear the entire crew of the bridge behind her as the mumbled, now bordering into a panic. She could hear a few starting to cry, and others as they started uttering prayers to their gods. Now she knew why Earth had been forgotten, why it was now considered little more than just a myth, and the horrible consequence of that final deadly war.
For Earth was now nothing more than a myth, its memories now scattered through a decaying orbit as a monument to mankind's greatest sin. And so, mankind would never set foot on it again.
\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Feel free to check out my other stories at r/ThatDudeWithTheBeard
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[WP] Humanity has touched the stars. Countless millennia have past and Earth has become a myth, a story to tell your children at night. You were one of those children, inspired by the idea all of humanity coming from a single planet, you set you sights to Earth to try and find the human birthplace.
|
It was challenging for Allie Xu to make her way through the *Triton*. Everyone she passed only wanted to clap her on the back, or pump her hand in congratulations, or make a toast to their combined achievements. As Captain she felt obliged to join in the merriment, but her mind was only on searching for her second-in-command. It wasn’t like him at all to miss out on all the celebrations.
She eventually found Jasper in the Observation Cabin, where the *Tritons* most sensitive and delicate machinery was housed. He had his back to the door, and he was staring out through the flexi-panes, lost in the sea of stars.
“You’re beginning to worry me, Dr Thornton,” Allie said, as the Cabin’s lights briefly flashed to acknowledge her presence. “If you keep on being morose, I’ll have Henry look you over for brain-stem damage. Goodness knows what the last quantum-jump did to your head!”
“I’m just… reflecting. Need some time for it all… to soak in, you know?” Jasper chuckled, then returned him gaze out into the infinite inkiness. “Never expected us to find the damn Origin, after all.”
“I expected you to be much more… excited about it. For years you were the only one on this starship to truly believe that it even existed. And now that we’ve found it, you become pensive? Come, there is something on your mind.” Allie considered resorting to subtlety – it wasn’t her strong suit, but the leadership modules frequently reminded her that being blunt closed off opportunities she didn’t even know existed. The best she could do to soften the command was to wrap it in a question. “What is the expression? A credit for your thoughts?”
“It’s… it’s nothing. Seriously. I’m happy, really. I’m happy we found Earth. I’m happy we finally made sense of all the starmaps our ancestors left for us. It’s one of the biggest puzzles we’ve ever faced as a species, and we’ve cracked it.”
“Really? That’s it? No other reason for why you crept away to the Cabin when you should have been the first one down on the surface of Earth, gleefully mapping it with the survey drones you personally enhanced?”
“I swear, there is nothing-”
The final thread of patience snapped, and Allie narrowed her eyes. She liked to think that she ran a tight ship, and right now Jasper was inching very close to insubordination. “Very well. Then hand over the data report you’ve been compiling ever since we discovered Earth. Don’t act all surprised now, Jasper. I’ve checked the logs. You put in the request for two survey drones, and last I checked, their field results do not show up anywhere in the compilations we’re preparing for Headquarters. Your drones are out there somewhere, and I want to know what it is that put you into this funk. And I want to know *now*.”
Jasper opened his mouth, denials at the ready, but Allie had perfected the art of showing when she really meant business. Her eyes, narrowed slits at this point, seemed to taunt Jasper into making a single misstep. He sighed, then unclipped the transponder by his belt. He held up his hands in defeat, then slipped the transponder into the dock at the center of the Cabin. One moment the Cabin was gloomy, lit mainly by the shimmering coming from outside, and the next it was bathed into a dazzling display of light. Symbols and words filled the room as the holovizers flared to life.
“You understand, Captain, this cannot go into the official reports yet,” Jasper began. “I need more… time. The implications are vast, and I cannot – I *will not* – allow our names to be attached to such a frivolous piece of speculation until we have quadruple-checked it.”
“Go on, I’m listening.”
“Well, you see,” Jasper sighed, “something doesn’t add up. Something’s not quite right. Our short time here in this solar system was opportunity enough for us to verify the bulk of the hypotheses we gleaned from the ancient records. We have verified, for instance, that the Earth really was dying. We verified that humanity had launched itself in a blind panic from the planet – the carcasses of the failed starships orbiting the planet are proof enough. We have also verified that of the 8 main trajectories humanity fled towards, a full 7 of them led to hospitable environments which birthed the Empire as we know it.”
“Yes, that much has been proven.”
“But what troubles me, what keeps me at when I try to sleep… are the things we got wrong. We’ve proven that quite a large portion of our historical records are… incorrect. Erroneous, inaccurate, invalid.”
Allie shrugged. “That is only to be expected. The ancient records were in shambles. Quantum-crystals were but hypotheticals back then. You can’t expect our forefathers to have had the tools or the knowledge to have full mastery of their universe, much less the capability to record that information to withstand the cruel passage of time.”
“I understand all that, Captain. But… perhaps I should show you what I mean.” Jasper’s fingers flew across the console housing the dock, and the symbols and figures winked out until all that was left was a single blue marble and 8 trajectories leading away from it. Arrows filled the air as Jasper tweaked the controls, and Allie felt a tear come to her as the Expansion was recreated before her very eyes. Humanity had long known about the 8 giant fleets which carried humanity to the stars, but it was extra special to be here, so close to the Origin, and to see it play out again. “What I’m troubled about, Captain, is this particular fleet. The *Tieguai*.”
Allie watched as Jasper highlighted the doomed delegation of starships, which once carried a full eighth of those lucky enough to escape Earth. Its trajectory from the Earth reminded Allie of a trail of ants, inching its way towards an unseen nest. The simulation carried the visuals of the starships as close as it could to Neptune, where the trail suddenly stopped.
“That is also within our records, Jasper,” said Allie. “The *Tieguai* was ill-fated. It could not escape the asteroid field near Neptune. All the starships in that delegation were lost, and to this day we honor them still. But we had already known that before we arrived. We have been taught that since we were young-”
Jasper coaxed the controls again, and this time Neptune appeared in the air, scaled down to size. It dwarfed Earth, which now appeared extremely puny.
“What do you see, Captain?”
“I see Neptune, I suppose.”
“Anything else?”
“Well, this is a real-time feed? No, I don’t see anything else-”
“*Precisely*!” boomed Jasper, with a shout that shook Allie to her boots. The vigor returned to him as he pranced to the side, tapping like a maniac at the controls. Allie could see in that moment that the old Jasper she knew had returned – and now a seed of dread was beginning to blossom in her gut. “Nothing else!” he continued. “No debris, no asteroid field, no hulking ships of dead metal and bones… nothing! Do you have any idea how much manmade material comprised the *Tieguai*? This is exactly where the last location beacons were recorded, but now there is nothing there!”
“I don’t understand,” said Allie. “How is that surprising? Do you have any idea how much time has passed? Why would you even expect the wrecks of the *Tieguai* to remain anywhere near Neptune?”
“That’s what I thought as well, Captain. But then… then I saw this.”
The holovizer of Neptune flickered… then vanished. In its place was a single black sphere, twice as large as the Earth. Allie almost missed it in the gloom of the Cabin, but it was soon obvious what she was looking at. After all, she had only spent the majority of her years at the helm specifically trying to *avoid* such phenomenons.
“A… black hole?”
“Yes. A black hole. A *stable* black hole. A *stable* black hole obscured by an electromagnetic pulse *designed* to make it look like a planet! And we missed it! All of us missed it! I only came across it by chance because I was trying to study where the *Tieguai* had disappeared to, and I scanned every spectrum before I uncovered this… this mirage, this illusion hiding the black hole!”
Allie leaned closer, then tapped on the holovizer with her own transponder. “This… this doesn’t make sense. The technology for containing black holes is only hypothetical. The last we communicated with Headquarters, was it not said that the technology would take another millennia or so to even complete the prototype stage?”
Jasper nodded. “I know. How about you tell me? How would technology like this exist way back when humanity was only just discovering the stars? Why conceal it? Can black holes really function as an alternative to the quantum-drives we are using? Where do they go? What secrets do they hide?”
Allie sighed. Not a single fiber of her body felt like celebrating anymore. The discovery of Earth, once the high point of her career, seemed like a distant memory.
“And that’s not even the most important question yet,” she said.
“Exactly,” said Jasper. “Where did the *Tieguai* go?”
---
/r/rarelyfunny
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*Excerpt from ship audio, 02/26/12020*
As time went on, our fondness of our homeworld became something more like reverence, holiness. And as we branched out across the Milky Way, the names for our star systems became longer and more specific. We never changed the name of our home; it was better that this place not match the rest of the Milky Way. It was still *the* Solar System, and at its heart was *the* Sun. It was never renamed after some primordial god, or slapped with a number in the tens of thousands. It was just... the Sun.
I'd never seen it before. I can't tell you how or why it felt right, more right than any other star; maybe there was something in that exact shade of yellow light that clicks with leftover human instincts. But it felt right.
Earth is a paradise.
I spent a long time trying to find hard records of human life on Earth; I thought that would be the easy part. But the galaxy is so huge and our time here was so long ago that any physical leftovers of that time have been scattered over too much space to cover. I just focused on pinning down the true location of the Solar System, then ported to that sector.
I stopped at Proxima Centauri first. I wanted to take this slowly, do it right, and I'm glad I did. I had suspicions that some of the survivors from the Earth era would want to stay close to our ancestral home, and I was able to find a small community of them on a Dyson reef around Proxima.
The things they told me... made me afraid to finish my journey.
There was an old man; we all look young now but you could see from the way he carried himself that he was from a different time. He told me he had lived on Earth before we claimed the stars, before we killed Death, before we raised our first Dyson. He said our homeworld was dying when we left it, that we only barely managed to save ourselves with new technology before we would have gone extinct.
I can't imagine. I'm two thousand years old myself; it's hard enough to think of a world where we died like mayflies in the millions, but to think of the possibility that *all humankind* could have died on one planet, and almost did...
Then he told me about the first wave of pilgrims who went back, when they were ready and the technology was available. He told me that they fixed all the broken parts of Earth. They put everything back the way it was before humans ever touched it, out of respect for...
*(muted audio)*
Everything we have, we owe to this place. They came here because they wanted to pay it back. And I don't know, maybe it isn't my place to say, but if it were, I'd say they succeeded.
It's so beautiful. We have entire garden worlds now, resort planets, paradises built to order. But this one made itself. You can see it when you look from above, how the layout of all the plants and topography is... amorphous. There *is* no layout. The plants grow themselves into optimal paths toward starlight and don't care what anyone thinks of the aesthetic.
And the animals. I hate that I don't have the words to explain it all in detail. I'm going to take videocasts so everyone can see this, obviously; the whole galaxy deserves to see home at least once... but I can't describe it. You can tell by looking that these creatures are related to the ones we bring with us to new worlds, but they're different species. Older. They *look older.* Like this is how animals looked before we changed them, filed the rough edges off, and once you look you wonder how you could have ever believed that that creature was *originally supposed to look like that...*
*(muted audio)*
I wish I could stay here.
I have to bring everything I've found to a clade with the resources to protect Earth. Because once they do, I'm sending it all out to the rest of the galaxy. Every planet, every reef, every nomad. They'll come here, like I did, and there has to be some kind of oversight to keep everything running smoothly.
And then I'm coming back, as soon as I can.
*(end transcript)*
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[WP] Humanity has touched the stars. Countless millennia have past and Earth has become a myth, a story to tell your children at night. You were one of those children, inspired by the idea all of humanity coming from a single planet, you set you sights to Earth to try and find the human birthplace.
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Myles was a long way from the space station orbiting Sirius A that he had grown up on. A pilot of a exploration class spaceship. A minimal crew kept the ship in working order whenever they entered a new star system. For the times they were just traveling in the vastness of space, cryogen pods kept them sleeping.
Myles was about 40, physically at least. In reality he was nearly 500 years old. He and his crew had known leaving the station they would never see their loved ones again. He still had the little plush dragon his daughter had given him while crying. It sat on the arm of his seat, strapped in with a string. His heart ached every time he saw it - reminding him what this mission was worth.
So long ago, that the exact location had been lost, humans had once inhabited a single world. Every child grew up learning about it. Most religions believe that’s where you went when you died. Myles had been an inquisitive soul, wanting to know more about the birthplace of mankind. Everyone else had scoffed at him and told him that it was rumors and folklore. He had spent a decade alone going through old archived data, searching for a location. A name.
So many names. Terra, Earth, Gaia, Erde, Eorth, and more and more. And the name Sol for its primary star. That had been a challenge. So many stars had been named Sol. He had tried to work back in time to find the original. He finally narrowed it down to three possible stars. All named Sol. Of course, they were all as far away from his home as they were from each other.
He had then dedicated his life to getting qualified as a pilot. He was going to find the origin of humans. He was dedicated to his cause. Dedicated enough that when he met Lyra he let himself fall in love, but shared his dream with her, not abandoning it.
His time with her had been heavenly. She let him name their daughter Erde, one of his favorite terms for the source of human life. Erde had nearly broke him of his dedication. He was going to abandon her and her mother. Lyra understood. Erde did not. When he had acquired the Aeris and crew, there had been months of planning. During that time she did not speak to him.
As they boarded the ship for the final time upon the station, she had run to him, sobbing. Begging him not to go. How could he leave her? But he had. With her little dragon that had been her companion her whole life. It used to smell like her. But it had been so long now that the scent had faded. It held more of Myles tears than it did Erde’s.
They had plotted a course from each Sol. Planned to search the system for the correct habitable planet. They had never expected the first one to be the correct Sol. The crew had hoped, but never said as much aloud. If it had been, they could have returned home in their loved one’s life time.
It hadn’t been. Nor had the second. The last Sol was the one they were approaching now. Everyone was silent in their tasks. Far beyond stressed at the work they had so long ago agreed to. Myles knew they questioned him now. What if this wasn’t it either? What if he had been wrong all along? Those questions ate away at him. He absently petted the plush toy. It had to be the right one.
“Sir, we have identified nine primaries in the system. Habitable range is 3 days out.” His lieutenant Braidn announced.
Three days. It seemed to stretch on as long as the initial journey had been.
“Sir. We have reading of space debris. Looks like at least one abandoned space station and a whole hell of a lot of satellites. Most seem to be revolving around the third planet from Sol.” That had been the officer on comms.
“We will do our due diligence in investigating before raising our hopes. The last Sol also had signs of abandoned life. Braidn, please bring visuals online.”
Suddenly on the screen before him was the vision of a planet. Green and blue glittered from a million miles away. Just like the descriptions. His heart ached and a tear threatened to slide down his cheek. But he was not one to lie to his men. Human’s had been here. But what they didn’t know was if this was the origin.
They prepared the shuttle to descend to the planet. The ship was set to geosynchronous orbit.
For the first time in years, Myles unstrapped the little dragon. He tucked it into his waistband. Either this was Erde, or it wasn’t either way, he wasn’t going to be leaving anytime soon.
r/LandOfMisfits
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I didn't think it would be so small, but then again no one believes the humble beginnings they start from. We had crossed the Andromeda shower and just like that the old maps had started to make sense. Beyond this desolated frozen rock which according to the map was called Pluto lay Planet Earth.
The scout had already beamed to us images of what lay ahead. It had crossed the asteroid belt and began to beam pictures of the planet. 75% of it was water and it had a circumference of 40,000 kilometres lying 150 million kilometres from its sun. This was it.
Cheers rose in the cockpit.
The scout drones zoomed in to send images of the terrain. The first images started to stream in.
A tiger appeared on the screen. There were gasps of shock as it stood on two feet and walked towards its streak. One raced up a tree and started to etch out a rune. The tree bristled with zest. Its leaves glistened as its branches stretched out. A few kilometres away a pride of peacocks flew their tail feathers leaving silver sparkles in their wake that fell to the earth and began to grow as silver grass.
There was magic in this place. Something we'd never known.
"Why would we ever leave this planet?" Flora asked in awe.
"According to the history books, we destroyed it with our pollution. We had to move out of the solar system to find somewhere else to call home," said Lewis.
There was a heavy pause.
"You think maybe we should reclaim it as ours?" Anna asked.
On the screen, it had started to rain while the sun still shone illuminating the screen with multiple rainbows.
"No, we'll leave." I rerouted towards home, "We exploited it and destroyed it. They've revived it and made it their own. Be good to mum," I added before we shot towards Andromeda, "you won't find another like her not in the whole damn universe."
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
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[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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I would love a cool origin story.
Everyone else has one it seems-orphaned and adopted by alien parents, bitten by an arachnid, ultra-rays or the like.
Heck, I still live with my folks and even have all 4 grandparents...along with the nosiest little bother, oops I mean brother.
I can pin down the exact day everything changed. It started small but...well, you’ll see.
“Hey Boobs! Yeah you! Stick ‘em out!”
I looked and sure enough it was Ray living up to his self-proclaimed school bully status by harassing poor Tess. She was scarlet and clutching her books to cover herself.
“Knock it off Ray!” I met his eye and just well, WILLED him to stop this time. It hadn’t worked the millions of other times I had said something but today?
“Oh. Uh. Hey. Uh”. Ray froze? He looked like I had smacked him with a brick or something. Then he turned red. Then purple. Was that an actual TEAR on his face?!!
“I’m sorry Tess”. He whimpered and RAN.
Tess and I were both totally floored. Then she was ecstatic.
“Oh My God Lauren! That was AMAZING! What did you DO?!”
She was practically dancing in the hallway.
“I don’t know!”
The bell rang. First period, second period, study hall then lunch flew by. Nobody bothered me-in fact when I look back on it now I realize that everyone was super-polite in all of my classes.
Even the bus ride was unusually nice. Nobody threw anything out the windows or even harassed our driver Dane.
The stop I get off at is not a bad neighborhood exactly. Well, not during the day so much...as long as you mind your own business that is. Today though-one of the junkies who always Harassed for change me met my eye and apologized! He then mumbled something about “I will do better. I...I...can do better” and stumbled off!
My thoughts were spinning then. SOMETHING was happening for sure! As I walked further down the block a random dude laid a gun at my feet and told me most sincerely “I’m going to turn myself in today”.
WTF?!!!
I wasn’t thrilled about the gun lying there-and then he picked it up and said “I will bring this to the station for you”
SERIOUSLY?!?
I decided I had had enough weirdness for the day and ran to our building-where a group of kids put down the spray cans and then picked them back up to COVER their tags. My Feenley the jerk didn’t even TRY to grab at my ass as I went past him in the hallway.
As I got in the door my Mom greeted me with a hug.
“Hey sweetie. Uh, I got a very strange phone call from an organization-the WWP or something. They are coming over to talk to you tomorrow after school”.
She shrugged as if that was a normal occurrence.
“How was school today?”
“Mom, something really bizarre is going on”. I slumped into my favorite comfy chair and dumped my bag on the floor.
“Huh. Really? How so?” Was she CLEANING without complaining?
“Everyone has been really polite to me in school-and that gang that’s been tagging everywhere are painting a mural on our building!”
“Well Lauren, it’s a good day then yes? I wouldn’t go worrying about good things like that.” Mom smiled at me-then my phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Miss Guchechest? This is Sargent Paul from the downtown station. I, uh, well WE need you to come to Santander bank on the corner of Maple and 3rd street right away.”
“What? How did you even get my number?”
“I can’t tell you that but the squad car should be pulling up for you now. Please hurry!”
Sure enough as I looked out the grimy window there was a police car with lights flashing and all that.
That was two weeks ago.
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
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[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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"Gas man is robbing a bank! Please help! **cough cough**" said the policeman over the radio.
"*What even is my power? Whats my real name?"* I thought to myself.
Before long I was there, stood outside the bank, I looked inside the bank, everyone coughing and struggling. I lock eyes with the villain and begin to motion my hand.
"no, please, I surrender!" he shouts and suddenly the gas dissipated.
"*Always too easy, always so boring. Why do they surrender?"* I think to myself.
&#x200B;
Several days later, I found myself before the council of nations.
"The inventor has built a machine to absorb powers. He's bullet proof, he can fly, he can control lightning, I could go on..., but he's announced he'll enslave the human race, unless... I'm so sorry to have to ask you this. Your are only hope. I don't think he'll surrender. You might have to actually... use your power." a councilman says.
"So be it" I said with slight fear.
"*What am I capable of?"*
&#x200B;
It's only a matter of time I found myself stood in front of a black haired scientist stood proudly in front of his invention, whirring away. I could hear the electricity humming.
"there's a gun on that desk, shoot me" he beckons.
I pick up the gun and shoot. **Ping**. It ricochets off his steel body.
"The only way you can stop me is by using your power!" he taunts.
"So be it!" I shout, raising my hand. And for once I complete the gesture.
"Hah! Your power did nothing, and now I've absorbed it! Let's see what you can do!" he laughs and makes the same gesture.
I fall to my knees "I surrender!" I shout.
"That's it isn't it? That's your power. I knew. What shall we call you? Surrender man? Anyway, no need for this anymore" he says, flicking a switch. Suddenly the humming stops and the machine stops spinning.
"Come, see me announce myself as the Earth's first supreme overlord" he says, offering me his hand.
I take his hand.
&#x200B;
*"Go power, whatever it you are, just do it, now"* I willed myself.
"What? Where am I? Who am I" says the former villain.
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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I knocked on the door, then put my hands in my pockets and whistled quietly to myself. I always get nervous when I'm saving the world.
People call me the Angel of Death, I don't know why. They don't say it to my face. To my face, they just call me Sir.
People always seem uncomfortable around me. They avoid me. I think they are afraid of me. I don't know why. I wouldn't hurt a fly. Heck, I don't even raise my voice when I'm mad.
I've never been in a fight. I have, however, saved the world 8 times. Whenever some Big Bad threatens the world, the military basically abducts me and asks for my help. They find the baddie, drop me off, and I talk them into surrendering.
Well, I don't have to talk, usually. Doctor Quake smashed his own Seismic Shredder when I walked into his base. The Inferno fell on his face and wept. Maybe you've heard of Captain Megaton? He ran away from me. I didn't even get a chance to say anything. They never looked at me either. They always looked behind me.
So, here I stood. The Technologist, a new villain, had found a vulnerability in security for the US' nuclear arsenal. After proving it by launching a few dozen missiles at the Moon, he had made one demand: He wanted to talk to me. One conversation, and he'd turn over his information on the security flaw.
Some government suits landed a helicopter on my lawn and flew me to a warehouse the Technologist had identified in Chicago. He didn't specify that I had to be alone, but nobody else got off the helicopter. I could feel their relief as I stepped out.
After a minute or two of waiting, I heard a click from inside the building, and the door swung open. I walked in, confident nobody would try to hurt me. Nobody ever did.
The room was dark. ""H-hello?"" I called. ""It's me. Um, the Angel of Death."" I cautiously continued into the large room. The echoing quality of my steps told me it was empty, or nearly so.
Suddenly, a screen lit up in front of me. I jumped, then closed my eyes. ""Dang it. Calm down. He's not going to hurt you,"" I told myself.
""Correct, SHE is not. I just want to talk. You'll have to forgive me for doing it like this. Technologist. Pleased to meet you, for now.""
I opened my eyes and saw a face on the screen. A severe-looking woman with black hair regarded me with brown eyes. ""I don't intend to let you or your friend kill me, but I had to talk to you. I had to understand what sort of person you are.""
I blinked. ""What do you mean? And I'm alone.""
The woman arched an eyebrow. ""I doubt that. From what I've seen, your friend is always near you."
""I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about.""
The Technologist studied me for a minute. "Is that possible? Give me a minute." I heard typing. ""What do you remember about your encounter with Deadeye?"".
""He was the first villain I met.""
""That's right. He got a team of very dangerous men into the United Nations headquarters. He was going to kill everybody in the building. Unfortunately for him he started with a janitor that crossed his path outside the assembly hall.""
""Right. Or so I'm told. My memory is pretty fuzzy there. I don't remember much about the first few villains I met, actually.""
"Then let me refresh your memory. I manged to get my hands on some security camera footage."
The screen switched to an overhead view of a large, nearly-empty hallway. I saw myself with a mop and rolling bucket, and several armed men approaching. One of them pointed at me and another stepped up and shot me.
As I watched, I put my hand on my chest. Nobody in video moved. I thought it had stopped. But then I noticed a figure standing behind me in the video. It wore a dark robe, and had reached an arm around me. The robe-covered arm covered my chest.
I squinted. No, not a robe. There were feathers on it. A wing?
The others in the video started moving again. I heard screaming and everybody opened fire on me and the dark figure. It spread those...wings...and rushed the group. I blinked and suddenly it was amongst them. The screams took on a desperate quality as it swung...a sword? It cut them down one by one as gunshots continued to ring out.
At one point, one of them managed to focus on my frozen form, next to the mop bucket, and fired a shot. The figure lashed a wing to the side, between the shooter and myself. Then it focused on him and literally cut him to pieces.
Soon the noise stopped. It had taken maybe 15 seconds to completely destroy the heavily-armed men. I gaped, then turned and looked behind me. ""I don't remember any of that.""
""Well, that is interesting. And these?""
A series of videos played on the screen. In each one, somebody had attacked me in some way, and everybody but me had died. I was silent. Horrified.
""Very interesting. Nobody told you how these first events went? I thought you summoned it, but maybe you don't control it at all.""
I heard her finger tapping the table she was sitting at. ""...But I won't get an opportunity like this again. You may not have done it on purpose, but you are the cause nonetheless.""
I saw a bright light from beneath me, and saw cracks on the floor, and pieces started to move up. I realized it was an explosion, but it was moving slowly. I had a vague impression of a large arm sweeping me up and tossing me out of the building, through the door I had left open. It was at least 30 feet. Before the sound of the explosion, I heard the Technologist scream briefly over the speakers. I woke up later, slightly bruised but otherwise unharmed.
I found out later that they had found the Technologist later. She had been stabbed to death in her apartment. The police thought she had had a partner who turned on her, but I knew better.
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
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[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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With the sun finally setting over Kross City, having narrowly avoided disaster that day, it's savior sat on the couch with the TV on eating a microwave dinner. David Green was his name and yet the world knew him by a different one; one he would forever regret saying.
"Today Kross City rejoices as we narrowly escape what would have been a tragic event in the downtown core." a news reporter said on the TV. "Due to the daring efforts of I-Don't-Know Man..."
David let out a sigh. There it was. The mistake. His words taken out of context had sparked an Internet viral video that was spiraling out of control.
"We have a clip from the event that took place today taken by one of the people that was rescued." The TV reported continued.
David saw himself on the screen standing before the known supervillian Nega Xor. David was Standing with his hands sheepishly in his pockets and a confused look on his face. Nega Xor, on the other hand, was on his knees trembling and pleading for his life. "Dude, that was amazing!" Said the person recording the shaky video before asking the fateful question. "Who are you?" David with his mind very boggled still working over the confusion simply said, "I don't know, man."
David turned off the TV. Maybe this was all some elaborate joke. Maybe it would go away. He looked over at his phone which somehow had over nine hundred new unread messages. Many of them were messages of thanks, some were asking for help. One message in particular from the country's president had him lost for words. Another even weirder message was welcoming him, I-Don't-Know Man, to the League of Heroes.
David let out another sigh. He had blown his one opportunity. Mind boggling events or no, David wished he had picked a better name.
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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The truth is, I might have a superpower at this point, simply through exposure - Super powers are, after all, contagious.
Here is how you get superpowers. First, you meet someone else with super powers. Or, better, several super powered individuals.
And then you have something happen to you that should kill you, and you gain some bullshit physics-breaking power that stops that from happening.
The statistics geeks say every super powered you have had a conversation with, touched, or slept with gives you a one in a hundred chance (or, to be exact, one in 124) of making your "saving throw versus dying". Only, it doesn't stack - You get a separate roll of the "Dice" for each one. There is this neat graph of what that means, but I trust that you see the problem?
But that is not why everyone thinks I am a power house. Ive never had that brush with death. People are convinced I must be a physical god, because 4 years ago, I was broke, recently divorced, and staring down homelessness. So when the offer came to serve the phantom his papers? Well, 5 thousand is 5 thousand.
There is always some super powered jackass somewhere in the world who has had it with a life of crime, and wants in from the cold. The courts are all in favor of this, as long as you have not left an actual trail of corpses (and sometimes, even if you have, if they think it was unintentional). But guess what happens if a guy made of living flame with 7 bank heists to his rap sheet flies up to a police station?
Which is where I come in. The first time, I was just the one who volunteered. But at this point, I am famous. So mister Flambee wants to surrender, and do his stint of community service digging sub-way tunnels or whatever? He walks behind me and does not get shot.
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
Maybe it was a joke. A joke that got too real.
Im guessing it was some viral video, of the first time I stood up to someone. Someone taped me as a mugging was taking place, and I stumbled into the guy who fell on his own knife, and died almost instantly. But from that cameras view, i just threw down a man 3x bigger than me, with such force it instantly killed him.
I mean, I like to work out. And I had just come out of the gym wearing my compression outfit, about to start my run. I can see how people might think i was dashing in- heroically stepping in and stopping that criminal. I can honestly see how people would think that I was a duper super hero. It was just a right time right place kind of thing. I'd seen these memes and viral videos before, and I figured it would burn out and Id just have a cool bar story. Id get looks and waves going through my daily routine, and to be honest, it was nice. I had even started wearing my compression outfit under my regular clothes as kind of a joke I could play for co-workers and barmates. Everyone would get a good laugh and it was all good fun.
I didnt expect people to actually believe in it.
I would get praise and some small gifts and offerings. I would deny them of course, but then they would call me humble. Again, I just figured it would die out. Aside from a cookie one time i never took anything.
But then, as i was depositing money at my bank a month later...someone decided to try rob it. He had started yelling, waving his gun, tell me to move outta the way. I turned around, and i saw him there, full ski mask and everything, and right through it i could see his face drop. He dropped his gun and threw his hands up muttering sorry, shit, dont kill me. I didnt want the gun to go off so I grabbed it before it fell. It was some cheap toy that broke when i grabbed it. I laughed when that happened in disbelief, you know that kind of laugh you get when you're so nervous cause you could have died kind of laugh. But to the security footage and witnesses, it was a much better story than that.
Thats when this shit all exploded.
"Oh yeah? How so?"
Next thing I know, im the local super hero. I dont know if im just attracted to crime now or what. But atleast once a week I see a robbery, a mugging, an assault or christ even the beginning of an arson. You know, what they call the miracle of 12th street?
"Mmmm yes. The disgruntled employee who had the flamethrower, and was attacking the local hardware store he was fired from...who laced the building with highly flammable explosives, when you were sent in-"
Woah woah, wait WHAT. There were EXPLOSIVES IN THERE? What the-
"You didn't know? They were lined up the front of the store, very obvious and brightly colored"
I THOUGHT THOSE WERE EARLY CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS-
"Mmmm....ill tell the force to refrain from analogies and alliteration from now on."
From now on?? You guys are still going to send me to do this?!? What the hell- i didnt sign up for this.
"...Mr. Walker, whether you like it or not, youve become a deterring...symbol... for this rising global crime wave. This city has been saved by your mere presence more times than I can count. You jave saved lives and avoided extreme situations and damages just by showing up. In light of this new information, you will be trained accordingly and provided appropriate equipment just incase the need should arrive. From your silence so far these past months im assuming you understand this situation. Otherwise you would have told the news what you've told me. You have also kept yourself relatively clean from bribes and gifts-"
Wait how do you know that-
"We've been keeping an eye on you Mr.Walker. we are the government. Its not exactly hard for us to do that these days. Anyways you've shown an unusual moral character that fits our...no, this cities needs more than perfectly. If you accept this, we can minimize the amount of risk you take when you walk out there each time. You do a great service whether you know it or not. You save lives. Help us help you."
I sighed. He was right. It was the best shot to not die.
Okay.
"Good. Training starts tomorrow, and your new suit will be measured and delivered by the next week. But before that, we should introduce you to your new teammates."
Teammates? What?
"Mr. Walker, believe it or not, there are actually super powers, though we've been successful at keeping it covert and secret till now, your recent rise to fame has goaded the more...villainous kind to start acting up again. Thankfully while you're moral character is rare, it is not wholly unique. Im sure you'll fit in just fine. Just dont tell them you don't have powers. Good day Mr.Walker...or should I say, (insert cool super hero name here im late for work)
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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The department of power management was established after an incident where a young man's powers went out of control resulting in a massive release of energy. Prior to that everyone had believed that powers were rare. But in the aftermath, it emerged that someone had a set of powers that could have solved the issue easily and neatly that lived only a short distance away. They were unknown and had been living like a normal person. It turned out that the majority of power holders choose to live normal lives. After the incident, new laws were passed requiring the registration of one's powers. These laws also required people to assist if their powers were capable of stopping a crisis. Some embraced this fully becoming full-time heroes working for the DPM others refused to register becoming villains.
&#x200B;
While powers were more common than previously thought that still didn't make them an everyday occurrence. Claire sat in her office looking through her files on the sixty or so power holders in the city. Sitting across from her was a pair of heroes, two of the cities power holders. No, she corrected herself, one of the cities power holders and Captain Paragon. She brought up Captain Paragon's file. He patiently sat there, a friendly smile on his face wearing a white bedsheet as a cape, yellow rubber boots and with a store bought stun gun at his waist, as she looked through his file for the thousandth time. He had come up zero on every power detection test ever devised, he had failed the DPM's fitness tests and failed them miserably and his list of self-reported powers was long and read like a teenager's superpower wishlist. "Heat beams like Brightstar has" and "wall rebuilding vision" were two standouts. Captain Paragon had failed to demonstrate a single one of these powers on any occasion and thus each power was marked as "unconfirmed". It was clear that his reported powers were completely fictitious which would normally be enough for some nasty fines as failing to report powers or reporting powers falsely was a crime, yet whenever the subject was brought to the attention of the relevant people the issue was dismissed. But by far the most frustrating aspect of the Captain's file was the achievements and exploits section. It was massive and contained name after name of captured villains but unlike the powers section each entry was marked "confirmed". These achievements were no fictitious lies, filled jail cells stood as a testament to that. Somehow this bumbling powerless man was by far the most prolific hero and effective hero in the city.
&#x200B;
His partner which now sat beside him was a former villain that the Captain had managed to coax into giving up his villainous ways, signing up with the DPM and becoming his partner. He'd been a dangerous one, his power was the ability to teleport any apple that he was holding to any point within two hundred meters. The man's morals had kept him from using this power to teleport apples inside living things but he had used it to great effect in disabling police and security equipment. How the Captain had managed to convince such a man was a mystery.
&#x200B;
Claire looked over both of them. "So you're going to tell me how you guys were able to drag back a villain that was able to beat Brightstar of all people and without a scratch on either of you," The two men exchanged a quick glance before the former villain replied "The captain spoke to him and that's all that happened"
&#x200B;
Much later in the evening after dealing with DPM debriefs, hordes of reporters and fans requesting his autograph Captain Paragon slipped into his small, cramped apartment and divested himself of his bedsheet cape and rubber boots. There had been many offers by people to upgrade his gear to something less 'thrown together by an amateur in twenty minutes' and more 'professional hero serving the city' but he felt they rather missed the point. He wasn't anything like the other heroes and he wanted this to be apparent. He wasn't a glorious demigod descended to save the day he was a dumb idiot wading into matters he couldn't possibly contend with.
&#x200B;
He flicked the television on and dropped onto his couch. The news was on and they were talking about him. He'd made on to national news it seemed, every news channel was talking about the weird local hero who took down one of Brightstar's nemesis. This was a level of fame he was a little uncomfortable with. With a sigh, he looked at the certificate that hung on the wall above the television, a reminder of a past life. "Donovan Donogal licenced therapist" it read. It had been a while since it was relevant, it had been a while since that hostage situation were he had been taken prisoner. Where he had talked the scared and panicking hostage takers down. He ended up caught up in another incident not long later where he again talked down the culprit. This became a running thing. People would even recognize him from his earlier exploits, they'd call him a hero and they'd seek him out if something similar was happening. He couldn't remember when he started wearing the bedsheet, but it had been a joke at the time. He remembered signing up for the DPM's vigilante program and how the space on the forms for powers was marked mandatory so he filled it with everything and anything he could think off.
&#x200B;
Now he was famous. Famous for catching criminals. The news spoke about the criminals he had caught but where they talked of in terms of evil people undeserving of mercy he remember each of their faces and each emotional problem that had bested them. He remembered seeing their pain and suffering in their eyes. His time in a cape had taught him two things; happy people rarely commit cruel acts and true psychopaths were rare. He had found the majority of criminals and villains were not evil monsters just people who needed help.
&#x200B;
The news program cut its discussion Captain Paragon to announce breaking news of a bank robbery in progress. Shots had been fired and hostages had been taken. The middle-aged Donovan pulled his tired frame from his comfortable couch. He donned his vestments of bedsheets and rubber boots. He strode out into the night following the sounds of sirens.
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"Stop, criminal!" Shouted the newly dubbed Ultradude. The "criminal" in question seemed unsure of what to do, faced with such a mighty hero. He raised his weapon and fired, causing Ultradude to flinch, before realizing he didn't even feel the bullets. The man saw Ultradude's invulnerability and made to run, but decided he should just surrender and pay his debt to society.
"I'm sorry mr. Ultradude! I'll never do it again!" The criminal whined.
"That's okay-- I mean, that was a very bad thing, sir, robbing banks like that! You have to go to jail now!" Ultradude was just and merciful.
"Good work, Ultradude!" The police commissioner said as his men moved to arrest the wrongdoer. "We just got word of a standoff at the airport. My men are on their way, but you can fly there faster. "
"I can fly? " Ultradude was suddenly unsure.
"Of course you can! " The commissioner said reassuringly. "That's one of your powers, remember? "
"Oh, right, " he said, as if it just came back to him. He jumped into the air, but didn't take off. He tried again to no avail.
"Maybe if I give you a slight toss? " Sure enough, a little boost was all he needed. Upon arrival at the airport, he crashed into the pavement, just outside the building where armed men were making demands.
"Come out with your hands up, or I'll be forced to come in there and thrash you! "
"Who's that? " one of the men could be heard asking.
"Th-th that's Superdude!" Sqealed another.
"No no no, it's Ultradude, dude! And he's bulletproof!" A third said in awe. "Weren't you watching the news just now? He just stopped that bank robbery like five minutes ago. How'd he get here so fast? "
"We should give up, boys " The leader said. "No way we gonna beat him!"
"And we can't outrun him, neither!" A simple decision, all three men threw down their weapons and marched out, hands raised, as ordered. Standoff ended, Ultradude stood, cape aflutter, arms akimbo in his best hero pose, showered by raucous applause and congratulations.
"You're outstanding, Su--er-- Ultradude!" said the commissioner as he arrived.
"All in a day's work, sir!" Ultradude said with as much confidence as he ever had. A day's work had included helping firefighters rescue stuck animals, saving people from wrecked cars, and of course, stopping criminals. He realized how exhausted he was at the end of his adventure.
One day a young man was told that his best friend was never going to be able to visit him again. He was spared the details, which involved a dispute between his friend's parents, that ended in tragedy. Despondent and heartbroken, the young man shut himself away from everyone, only speaking to declare that if only he'd been a superhero, his friend would still be around.
Then one day, many months later, he suddenly got his wish. Endowed with extraordinary powers he didn't understand, and with the help of his entire city, he became Ultradude, Warrior of Justice, dedicated to helping the world and doing his friend's memory proud.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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"Gas man is robbing a bank! Please help! **cough cough**" said the policeman over the radio.
"*What even is my power? Whats my real name?"* I thought to myself.
Before long I was there, stood outside the bank, I looked inside the bank, everyone coughing and struggling. I lock eyes with the villain and begin to motion my hand.
"no, please, I surrender!" he shouts and suddenly the gas dissipated.
"*Always too easy, always so boring. Why do they surrender?"* I think to myself.
&#x200B;
Several days later, I found myself before the council of nations.
"The inventor has built a machine to absorb powers. He's bullet proof, he can fly, he can control lightning, I could go on..., but he's announced he'll enslave the human race, unless... I'm so sorry to have to ask you this. Your are only hope. I don't think he'll surrender. You might have to actually... use your power." a councilman says.
"So be it" I said with slight fear.
"*What am I capable of?"*
&#x200B;
It's only a matter of time I found myself stood in front of a black haired scientist stood proudly in front of his invention, whirring away. I could hear the electricity humming.
"there's a gun on that desk, shoot me" he beckons.
I pick up the gun and shoot. **Ping**. It ricochets off his steel body.
"The only way you can stop me is by using your power!" he taunts.
"So be it!" I shout, raising my hand. And for once I complete the gesture.
"Hah! Your power did nothing, and now I've absorbed it! Let's see what you can do!" he laughs and makes the same gesture.
I fall to my knees "I surrender!" I shout.
"That's it isn't it? That's your power. I knew. What shall we call you? Surrender man? Anyway, no need for this anymore" he says, flicking a switch. Suddenly the humming stops and the machine stops spinning.
"Come, see me announce myself as the Earth's first supreme overlord" he says, offering me his hand.
I take his hand.
&#x200B;
*"Go power, whatever it you are, just do it, now"* I willed myself.
"What? Where am I? Who am I" says the former villain.
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I would love a cool origin story.
Everyone else has one it seems-orphaned and adopted by alien parents, bitten by an arachnid, ultra-rays or the like.
Heck, I still live with my folks and even have all 4 grandparents...along with the nosiest little bother, oops I mean brother.
I can pin down the exact day everything changed. It started small but...well, you’ll see.
“Hey Boobs! Yeah you! Stick ‘em out!”
I looked and sure enough it was Ray living up to his self-proclaimed school bully status by harassing poor Tess. She was scarlet and clutching her books to cover herself.
“Knock it off Ray!” I met his eye and just well, WILLED him to stop this time. It hadn’t worked the millions of other times I had said something but today?
“Oh. Uh. Hey. Uh”. Ray froze? He looked like I had smacked him with a brick or something. Then he turned red. Then purple. Was that an actual TEAR on his face?!!
“I’m sorry Tess”. He whimpered and RAN.
Tess and I were both totally floored. Then she was ecstatic.
“Oh My God Lauren! That was AMAZING! What did you DO?!”
She was practically dancing in the hallway.
“I don’t know!”
The bell rang. First period, second period, study hall then lunch flew by. Nobody bothered me-in fact when I look back on it now I realize that everyone was super-polite in all of my classes.
Even the bus ride was unusually nice. Nobody threw anything out the windows or even harassed our driver Dane.
The stop I get off at is not a bad neighborhood exactly. Well, not during the day so much...as long as you mind your own business that is. Today though-one of the junkies who always Harassed for change me met my eye and apologized! He then mumbled something about “I will do better. I...I...can do better” and stumbled off!
My thoughts were spinning then. SOMETHING was happening for sure! As I walked further down the block a random dude laid a gun at my feet and told me most sincerely “I’m going to turn myself in today”.
WTF?!!!
I wasn’t thrilled about the gun lying there-and then he picked it up and said “I will bring this to the station for you”
SERIOUSLY?!?
I decided I had had enough weirdness for the day and ran to our building-where a group of kids put down the spray cans and then picked them back up to COVER their tags. My Feenley the jerk didn’t even TRY to grab at my ass as I went past him in the hallway.
As I got in the door my Mom greeted me with a hug.
“Hey sweetie. Uh, I got a very strange phone call from an organization-the WWP or something. They are coming over to talk to you tomorrow after school”.
She shrugged as if that was a normal occurrence.
“How was school today?”
“Mom, something really bizarre is going on”. I slumped into my favorite comfy chair and dumped my bag on the floor.
“Huh. Really? How so?” Was she CLEANING without complaining?
“Everyone has been really polite to me in school-and that gang that’s been tagging everywhere are painting a mural on our building!”
“Well Lauren, it’s a good day then yes? I wouldn’t go worrying about good things like that.” Mom smiled at me-then my phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Miss Guchechest? This is Sargent Paul from the downtown station. I, uh, well WE need you to come to Santander bank on the corner of Maple and 3rd street right away.”
“What? How did you even get my number?”
“I can’t tell you that but the squad car should be pulling up for you now. Please hurry!”
Sure enough as I looked out the grimy window there was a police car with lights flashing and all that.
That was two weeks ago.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
I knocked on the door, then put my hands in my pockets and whistled quietly to myself. I always get nervous when I'm saving the world.
People call me the Angel of Death, I don't know why. They don't say it to my face. To my face, they just call me Sir.
People always seem uncomfortable around me. They avoid me. I think they are afraid of me. I don't know why. I wouldn't hurt a fly. Heck, I don't even raise my voice when I'm mad.
I've never been in a fight. I have, however, saved the world 8 times. Whenever some Big Bad threatens the world, the military basically abducts me and asks for my help. They find the baddie, drop me off, and I talk them into surrendering.
Well, I don't have to talk, usually. Doctor Quake smashed his own Seismic Shredder when I walked into his base. The Inferno fell on his face and wept. Maybe you've heard of Captain Megaton? He ran away from me. I didn't even get a chance to say anything. They never looked at me either. They always looked behind me.
So, here I stood. The Technologist, a new villain, had found a vulnerability in security for the US' nuclear arsenal. After proving it by launching a few dozen missiles at the Moon, he had made one demand: He wanted to talk to me. One conversation, and he'd turn over his information on the security flaw.
Some government suits landed a helicopter on my lawn and flew me to a warehouse the Technologist had identified in Chicago. He didn't specify that I had to be alone, but nobody else got off the helicopter. I could feel their relief as I stepped out.
After a minute or two of waiting, I heard a click from inside the building, and the door swung open. I walked in, confident nobody would try to hurt me. Nobody ever did.
The room was dark. ""H-hello?"" I called. ""It's me. Um, the Angel of Death."" I cautiously continued into the large room. The echoing quality of my steps told me it was empty, or nearly so.
Suddenly, a screen lit up in front of me. I jumped, then closed my eyes. ""Dang it. Calm down. He's not going to hurt you,"" I told myself.
""Correct, SHE is not. I just want to talk. You'll have to forgive me for doing it like this. Technologist. Pleased to meet you, for now.""
I opened my eyes and saw a face on the screen. A severe-looking woman with black hair regarded me with brown eyes. ""I don't intend to let you or your friend kill me, but I had to talk to you. I had to understand what sort of person you are.""
I blinked. ""What do you mean? And I'm alone.""
The woman arched an eyebrow. ""I doubt that. From what I've seen, your friend is always near you."
""I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about.""
The Technologist studied me for a minute. "Is that possible? Give me a minute." I heard typing. ""What do you remember about your encounter with Deadeye?"".
""He was the first villain I met.""
""That's right. He got a team of very dangerous men into the United Nations headquarters. He was going to kill everybody in the building. Unfortunately for him he started with a janitor that crossed his path outside the assembly hall.""
""Right. Or so I'm told. My memory is pretty fuzzy there. I don't remember much about the first few villains I met, actually.""
"Then let me refresh your memory. I manged to get my hands on some security camera footage."
The screen switched to an overhead view of a large, nearly-empty hallway. I saw myself with a mop and rolling bucket, and several armed men approaching. One of them pointed at me and another stepped up and shot me.
As I watched, I put my hand on my chest. Nobody in video moved. I thought it had stopped. But then I noticed a figure standing behind me in the video. It wore a dark robe, and had reached an arm around me. The robe-covered arm covered my chest.
I squinted. No, not a robe. There were feathers on it. A wing?
The others in the video started moving again. I heard screaming and everybody opened fire on me and the dark figure. It spread those...wings...and rushed the group. I blinked and suddenly it was amongst them. The screams took on a desperate quality as it swung...a sword? It cut them down one by one as gunshots continued to ring out.
At one point, one of them managed to focus on my frozen form, next to the mop bucket, and fired a shot. The figure lashed a wing to the side, between the shooter and myself. Then it focused on him and literally cut him to pieces.
Soon the noise stopped. It had taken maybe 15 seconds to completely destroy the heavily-armed men. I gaped, then turned and looked behind me. ""I don't remember any of that.""
""Well, that is interesting. And these?""
A series of videos played on the screen. In each one, somebody had attacked me in some way, and everybody but me had died. I was silent. Horrified.
""Very interesting. Nobody told you how these first events went? I thought you summoned it, but maybe you don't control it at all.""
I heard her finger tapping the table she was sitting at. ""...But I won't get an opportunity like this again. You may not have done it on purpose, but you are the cause nonetheless.""
I saw a bright light from beneath me, and saw cracks on the floor, and pieces started to move up. I realized it was an explosion, but it was moving slowly. I had a vague impression of a large arm sweeping me up and tossing me out of the building, through the door I had left open. It was at least 30 feet. Before the sound of the explosion, I heard the Technologist scream briefly over the speakers. I woke up later, slightly bruised but otherwise unharmed.
I found out later that they had found the Technologist later. She had been stabbed to death in her apartment. The police thought she had had a partner who turned on her, but I knew better.
|
I would love a cool origin story.
Everyone else has one it seems-orphaned and adopted by alien parents, bitten by an arachnid, ultra-rays or the like.
Heck, I still live with my folks and even have all 4 grandparents...along with the nosiest little bother, oops I mean brother.
I can pin down the exact day everything changed. It started small but...well, you’ll see.
“Hey Boobs! Yeah you! Stick ‘em out!”
I looked and sure enough it was Ray living up to his self-proclaimed school bully status by harassing poor Tess. She was scarlet and clutching her books to cover herself.
“Knock it off Ray!” I met his eye and just well, WILLED him to stop this time. It hadn’t worked the millions of other times I had said something but today?
“Oh. Uh. Hey. Uh”. Ray froze? He looked like I had smacked him with a brick or something. Then he turned red. Then purple. Was that an actual TEAR on his face?!!
“I’m sorry Tess”. He whimpered and RAN.
Tess and I were both totally floored. Then she was ecstatic.
“Oh My God Lauren! That was AMAZING! What did you DO?!”
She was practically dancing in the hallway.
“I don’t know!”
The bell rang. First period, second period, study hall then lunch flew by. Nobody bothered me-in fact when I look back on it now I realize that everyone was super-polite in all of my classes.
Even the bus ride was unusually nice. Nobody threw anything out the windows or even harassed our driver Dane.
The stop I get off at is not a bad neighborhood exactly. Well, not during the day so much...as long as you mind your own business that is. Today though-one of the junkies who always Harassed for change me met my eye and apologized! He then mumbled something about “I will do better. I...I...can do better” and stumbled off!
My thoughts were spinning then. SOMETHING was happening for sure! As I walked further down the block a random dude laid a gun at my feet and told me most sincerely “I’m going to turn myself in today”.
WTF?!!!
I wasn’t thrilled about the gun lying there-and then he picked it up and said “I will bring this to the station for you”
SERIOUSLY?!?
I decided I had had enough weirdness for the day and ran to our building-where a group of kids put down the spray cans and then picked them back up to COVER their tags. My Feenley the jerk didn’t even TRY to grab at my ass as I went past him in the hallway.
As I got in the door my Mom greeted me with a hug.
“Hey sweetie. Uh, I got a very strange phone call from an organization-the WWP or something. They are coming over to talk to you tomorrow after school”.
She shrugged as if that was a normal occurrence.
“How was school today?”
“Mom, something really bizarre is going on”. I slumped into my favorite comfy chair and dumped my bag on the floor.
“Huh. Really? How so?” Was she CLEANING without complaining?
“Everyone has been really polite to me in school-and that gang that’s been tagging everywhere are painting a mural on our building!”
“Well Lauren, it’s a good day then yes? I wouldn’t go worrying about good things like that.” Mom smiled at me-then my phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Miss Guchechest? This is Sargent Paul from the downtown station. I, uh, well WE need you to come to Santander bank on the corner of Maple and 3rd street right away.”
“What? How did you even get my number?”
“I can’t tell you that but the squad car should be pulling up for you now. Please hurry!”
Sure enough as I looked out the grimy window there was a police car with lights flashing and all that.
That was two weeks ago.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
The department of power management was established after an incident where a young man's powers went out of control resulting in a massive release of energy. Prior to that everyone had believed that powers were rare. But in the aftermath, it emerged that someone had a set of powers that could have solved the issue easily and neatly that lived only a short distance away. They were unknown and had been living like a normal person. It turned out that the majority of power holders choose to live normal lives. After the incident, new laws were passed requiring the registration of one's powers. These laws also required people to assist if their powers were capable of stopping a crisis. Some embraced this fully becoming full-time heroes working for the DPM others refused to register becoming villains.
&#x200B;
While powers were more common than previously thought that still didn't make them an everyday occurrence. Claire sat in her office looking through her files on the sixty or so power holders in the city. Sitting across from her was a pair of heroes, two of the cities power holders. No, she corrected herself, one of the cities power holders and Captain Paragon. She brought up Captain Paragon's file. He patiently sat there, a friendly smile on his face wearing a white bedsheet as a cape, yellow rubber boots and with a store bought stun gun at his waist, as she looked through his file for the thousandth time. He had come up zero on every power detection test ever devised, he had failed the DPM's fitness tests and failed them miserably and his list of self-reported powers was long and read like a teenager's superpower wishlist. "Heat beams like Brightstar has" and "wall rebuilding vision" were two standouts. Captain Paragon had failed to demonstrate a single one of these powers on any occasion and thus each power was marked as "unconfirmed". It was clear that his reported powers were completely fictitious which would normally be enough for some nasty fines as failing to report powers or reporting powers falsely was a crime, yet whenever the subject was brought to the attention of the relevant people the issue was dismissed. But by far the most frustrating aspect of the Captain's file was the achievements and exploits section. It was massive and contained name after name of captured villains but unlike the powers section each entry was marked "confirmed". These achievements were no fictitious lies, filled jail cells stood as a testament to that. Somehow this bumbling powerless man was by far the most prolific hero and effective hero in the city.
&#x200B;
His partner which now sat beside him was a former villain that the Captain had managed to coax into giving up his villainous ways, signing up with the DPM and becoming his partner. He'd been a dangerous one, his power was the ability to teleport any apple that he was holding to any point within two hundred meters. The man's morals had kept him from using this power to teleport apples inside living things but he had used it to great effect in disabling police and security equipment. How the Captain had managed to convince such a man was a mystery.
&#x200B;
Claire looked over both of them. "So you're going to tell me how you guys were able to drag back a villain that was able to beat Brightstar of all people and without a scratch on either of you," The two men exchanged a quick glance before the former villain replied "The captain spoke to him and that's all that happened"
&#x200B;
Much later in the evening after dealing with DPM debriefs, hordes of reporters and fans requesting his autograph Captain Paragon slipped into his small, cramped apartment and divested himself of his bedsheet cape and rubber boots. There had been many offers by people to upgrade his gear to something less 'thrown together by an amateur in twenty minutes' and more 'professional hero serving the city' but he felt they rather missed the point. He wasn't anything like the other heroes and he wanted this to be apparent. He wasn't a glorious demigod descended to save the day he was a dumb idiot wading into matters he couldn't possibly contend with.
&#x200B;
He flicked the television on and dropped onto his couch. The news was on and they were talking about him. He'd made on to national news it seemed, every news channel was talking about the weird local hero who took down one of Brightstar's nemesis. This was a level of fame he was a little uncomfortable with. With a sigh, he looked at the certificate that hung on the wall above the television, a reminder of a past life. "Donovan Donogal licenced therapist" it read. It had been a while since it was relevant, it had been a while since that hostage situation were he had been taken prisoner. Where he had talked the scared and panicking hostage takers down. He ended up caught up in another incident not long later where he again talked down the culprit. This became a running thing. People would even recognize him from his earlier exploits, they'd call him a hero and they'd seek him out if something similar was happening. He couldn't remember when he started wearing the bedsheet, but it had been a joke at the time. He remembered signing up for the DPM's vigilante program and how the space on the forms for powers was marked mandatory so he filled it with everything and anything he could think off.
&#x200B;
Now he was famous. Famous for catching criminals. The news spoke about the criminals he had caught but where they talked of in terms of evil people undeserving of mercy he remember each of their faces and each emotional problem that had bested them. He remembered seeing their pain and suffering in their eyes. His time in a cape had taught him two things; happy people rarely commit cruel acts and true psychopaths were rare. He had found the majority of criminals and villains were not evil monsters just people who needed help.
&#x200B;
The news program cut its discussion Captain Paragon to announce breaking news of a bank robbery in progress. Shots had been fired and hostages had been taken. The middle-aged Donovan pulled his tired frame from his comfortable couch. He donned his vestments of bedsheets and rubber boots. He strode out into the night following the sounds of sirens.
|
I would love a cool origin story.
Everyone else has one it seems-orphaned and adopted by alien parents, bitten by an arachnid, ultra-rays or the like.
Heck, I still live with my folks and even have all 4 grandparents...along with the nosiest little bother, oops I mean brother.
I can pin down the exact day everything changed. It started small but...well, you’ll see.
“Hey Boobs! Yeah you! Stick ‘em out!”
I looked and sure enough it was Ray living up to his self-proclaimed school bully status by harassing poor Tess. She was scarlet and clutching her books to cover herself.
“Knock it off Ray!” I met his eye and just well, WILLED him to stop this time. It hadn’t worked the millions of other times I had said something but today?
“Oh. Uh. Hey. Uh”. Ray froze? He looked like I had smacked him with a brick or something. Then he turned red. Then purple. Was that an actual TEAR on his face?!!
“I’m sorry Tess”. He whimpered and RAN.
Tess and I were both totally floored. Then she was ecstatic.
“Oh My God Lauren! That was AMAZING! What did you DO?!”
She was practically dancing in the hallway.
“I don’t know!”
The bell rang. First period, second period, study hall then lunch flew by. Nobody bothered me-in fact when I look back on it now I realize that everyone was super-polite in all of my classes.
Even the bus ride was unusually nice. Nobody threw anything out the windows or even harassed our driver Dane.
The stop I get off at is not a bad neighborhood exactly. Well, not during the day so much...as long as you mind your own business that is. Today though-one of the junkies who always Harassed for change me met my eye and apologized! He then mumbled something about “I will do better. I...I...can do better” and stumbled off!
My thoughts were spinning then. SOMETHING was happening for sure! As I walked further down the block a random dude laid a gun at my feet and told me most sincerely “I’m going to turn myself in today”.
WTF?!!!
I wasn’t thrilled about the gun lying there-and then he picked it up and said “I will bring this to the station for you”
SERIOUSLY?!?
I decided I had had enough weirdness for the day and ran to our building-where a group of kids put down the spray cans and then picked them back up to COVER their tags. My Feenley the jerk didn’t even TRY to grab at my ass as I went past him in the hallway.
As I got in the door my Mom greeted me with a hug.
“Hey sweetie. Uh, I got a very strange phone call from an organization-the WWP or something. They are coming over to talk to you tomorrow after school”.
She shrugged as if that was a normal occurrence.
“How was school today?”
“Mom, something really bizarre is going on”. I slumped into my favorite comfy chair and dumped my bag on the floor.
“Huh. Really? How so?” Was she CLEANING without complaining?
“Everyone has been really polite to me in school-and that gang that’s been tagging everywhere are painting a mural on our building!”
“Well Lauren, it’s a good day then yes? I wouldn’t go worrying about good things like that.” Mom smiled at me-then my phone buzzed.
“Hello?”
“Miss Guchechest? This is Sargent Paul from the downtown station. I, uh, well WE need you to come to Santander bank on the corner of Maple and 3rd street right away.”
“What? How did you even get my number?”
“I can’t tell you that but the squad car should be pulling up for you now. Please hurry!”
Sure enough as I looked out the grimy window there was a police car with lights flashing and all that.
That was two weeks ago.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
The department of power management was established after an incident where a young man's powers went out of control resulting in a massive release of energy. Prior to that everyone had believed that powers were rare. But in the aftermath, it emerged that someone had a set of powers that could have solved the issue easily and neatly that lived only a short distance away. They were unknown and had been living like a normal person. It turned out that the majority of power holders choose to live normal lives. After the incident, new laws were passed requiring the registration of one's powers. These laws also required people to assist if their powers were capable of stopping a crisis. Some embraced this fully becoming full-time heroes working for the DPM others refused to register becoming villains.
&#x200B;
While powers were more common than previously thought that still didn't make them an everyday occurrence. Claire sat in her office looking through her files on the sixty or so power holders in the city. Sitting across from her was a pair of heroes, two of the cities power holders. No, she corrected herself, one of the cities power holders and Captain Paragon. She brought up Captain Paragon's file. He patiently sat there, a friendly smile on his face wearing a white bedsheet as a cape, yellow rubber boots and with a store bought stun gun at his waist, as she looked through his file for the thousandth time. He had come up zero on every power detection test ever devised, he had failed the DPM's fitness tests and failed them miserably and his list of self-reported powers was long and read like a teenager's superpower wishlist. "Heat beams like Brightstar has" and "wall rebuilding vision" were two standouts. Captain Paragon had failed to demonstrate a single one of these powers on any occasion and thus each power was marked as "unconfirmed". It was clear that his reported powers were completely fictitious which would normally be enough for some nasty fines as failing to report powers or reporting powers falsely was a crime, yet whenever the subject was brought to the attention of the relevant people the issue was dismissed. But by far the most frustrating aspect of the Captain's file was the achievements and exploits section. It was massive and contained name after name of captured villains but unlike the powers section each entry was marked "confirmed". These achievements were no fictitious lies, filled jail cells stood as a testament to that. Somehow this bumbling powerless man was by far the most prolific hero and effective hero in the city.
&#x200B;
His partner which now sat beside him was a former villain that the Captain had managed to coax into giving up his villainous ways, signing up with the DPM and becoming his partner. He'd been a dangerous one, his power was the ability to teleport any apple that he was holding to any point within two hundred meters. The man's morals had kept him from using this power to teleport apples inside living things but he had used it to great effect in disabling police and security equipment. How the Captain had managed to convince such a man was a mystery.
&#x200B;
Claire looked over both of them. "So you're going to tell me how you guys were able to drag back a villain that was able to beat Brightstar of all people and without a scratch on either of you," The two men exchanged a quick glance before the former villain replied "The captain spoke to him and that's all that happened"
&#x200B;
Much later in the evening after dealing with DPM debriefs, hordes of reporters and fans requesting his autograph Captain Paragon slipped into his small, cramped apartment and divested himself of his bedsheet cape and rubber boots. There had been many offers by people to upgrade his gear to something less 'thrown together by an amateur in twenty minutes' and more 'professional hero serving the city' but he felt they rather missed the point. He wasn't anything like the other heroes and he wanted this to be apparent. He wasn't a glorious demigod descended to save the day he was a dumb idiot wading into matters he couldn't possibly contend with.
&#x200B;
He flicked the television on and dropped onto his couch. The news was on and they were talking about him. He'd made on to national news it seemed, every news channel was talking about the weird local hero who took down one of Brightstar's nemesis. This was a level of fame he was a little uncomfortable with. With a sigh, he looked at the certificate that hung on the wall above the television, a reminder of a past life. "Donovan Donogal licenced therapist" it read. It had been a while since it was relevant, it had been a while since that hostage situation were he had been taken prisoner. Where he had talked the scared and panicking hostage takers down. He ended up caught up in another incident not long later where he again talked down the culprit. This became a running thing. People would even recognize him from his earlier exploits, they'd call him a hero and they'd seek him out if something similar was happening. He couldn't remember when he started wearing the bedsheet, but it had been a joke at the time. He remembered signing up for the DPM's vigilante program and how the space on the forms for powers was marked mandatory so he filled it with everything and anything he could think off.
&#x200B;
Now he was famous. Famous for catching criminals. The news spoke about the criminals he had caught but where they talked of in terms of evil people undeserving of mercy he remember each of their faces and each emotional problem that had bested them. He remembered seeing their pain and suffering in their eyes. His time in a cape had taught him two things; happy people rarely commit cruel acts and true psychopaths were rare. He had found the majority of criminals and villains were not evil monsters just people who needed help.
&#x200B;
The news program cut its discussion Captain Paragon to announce breaking news of a bank robbery in progress. Shots had been fired and hostages had been taken. The middle-aged Donovan pulled his tired frame from his comfortable couch. He donned his vestments of bedsheets and rubber boots. He strode out into the night following the sounds of sirens.
|
"Gas man is robbing a bank! Please help! **cough cough**" said the policeman over the radio.
"*What even is my power? Whats my real name?"* I thought to myself.
Before long I was there, stood outside the bank, I looked inside the bank, everyone coughing and struggling. I lock eyes with the villain and begin to motion my hand.
"no, please, I surrender!" he shouts and suddenly the gas dissipated.
"*Always too easy, always so boring. Why do they surrender?"* I think to myself.
&#x200B;
Several days later, I found myself before the council of nations.
"The inventor has built a machine to absorb powers. He's bullet proof, he can fly, he can control lightning, I could go on..., but he's announced he'll enslave the human race, unless... I'm so sorry to have to ask you this. Your are only hope. I don't think he'll surrender. You might have to actually... use your power." a councilman says.
"So be it" I said with slight fear.
"*What am I capable of?"*
&#x200B;
It's only a matter of time I found myself stood in front of a black haired scientist stood proudly in front of his invention, whirring away. I could hear the electricity humming.
"there's a gun on that desk, shoot me" he beckons.
I pick up the gun and shoot. **Ping**. It ricochets off his steel body.
"The only way you can stop me is by using your power!" he taunts.
"So be it!" I shout, raising my hand. And for once I complete the gesture.
"Hah! Your power did nothing, and now I've absorbed it! Let's see what you can do!" he laughs and makes the same gesture.
I fall to my knees "I surrender!" I shout.
"That's it isn't it? That's your power. I knew. What shall we call you? Surrender man? Anyway, no need for this anymore" he says, flicking a switch. Suddenly the humming stops and the machine stops spinning.
"Come, see me announce myself as the Earth's first supreme overlord" he says, offering me his hand.
I take his hand.
&#x200B;
*"Go power, whatever it you are, just do it, now"* I willed myself.
"What? Where am I? Who am I" says the former villain.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
The department of power management was established after an incident where a young man's powers went out of control resulting in a massive release of energy. Prior to that everyone had believed that powers were rare. But in the aftermath, it emerged that someone had a set of powers that could have solved the issue easily and neatly that lived only a short distance away. They were unknown and had been living like a normal person. It turned out that the majority of power holders choose to live normal lives. After the incident, new laws were passed requiring the registration of one's powers. These laws also required people to assist if their powers were capable of stopping a crisis. Some embraced this fully becoming full-time heroes working for the DPM others refused to register becoming villains.
&#x200B;
While powers were more common than previously thought that still didn't make them an everyday occurrence. Claire sat in her office looking through her files on the sixty or so power holders in the city. Sitting across from her was a pair of heroes, two of the cities power holders. No, she corrected herself, one of the cities power holders and Captain Paragon. She brought up Captain Paragon's file. He patiently sat there, a friendly smile on his face wearing a white bedsheet as a cape, yellow rubber boots and with a store bought stun gun at his waist, as she looked through his file for the thousandth time. He had come up zero on every power detection test ever devised, he had failed the DPM's fitness tests and failed them miserably and his list of self-reported powers was long and read like a teenager's superpower wishlist. "Heat beams like Brightstar has" and "wall rebuilding vision" were two standouts. Captain Paragon had failed to demonstrate a single one of these powers on any occasion and thus each power was marked as "unconfirmed". It was clear that his reported powers were completely fictitious which would normally be enough for some nasty fines as failing to report powers or reporting powers falsely was a crime, yet whenever the subject was brought to the attention of the relevant people the issue was dismissed. But by far the most frustrating aspect of the Captain's file was the achievements and exploits section. It was massive and contained name after name of captured villains but unlike the powers section each entry was marked "confirmed". These achievements were no fictitious lies, filled jail cells stood as a testament to that. Somehow this bumbling powerless man was by far the most prolific hero and effective hero in the city.
&#x200B;
His partner which now sat beside him was a former villain that the Captain had managed to coax into giving up his villainous ways, signing up with the DPM and becoming his partner. He'd been a dangerous one, his power was the ability to teleport any apple that he was holding to any point within two hundred meters. The man's morals had kept him from using this power to teleport apples inside living things but he had used it to great effect in disabling police and security equipment. How the Captain had managed to convince such a man was a mystery.
&#x200B;
Claire looked over both of them. "So you're going to tell me how you guys were able to drag back a villain that was able to beat Brightstar of all people and without a scratch on either of you," The two men exchanged a quick glance before the former villain replied "The captain spoke to him and that's all that happened"
&#x200B;
Much later in the evening after dealing with DPM debriefs, hordes of reporters and fans requesting his autograph Captain Paragon slipped into his small, cramped apartment and divested himself of his bedsheet cape and rubber boots. There had been many offers by people to upgrade his gear to something less 'thrown together by an amateur in twenty minutes' and more 'professional hero serving the city' but he felt they rather missed the point. He wasn't anything like the other heroes and he wanted this to be apparent. He wasn't a glorious demigod descended to save the day he was a dumb idiot wading into matters he couldn't possibly contend with.
&#x200B;
He flicked the television on and dropped onto his couch. The news was on and they were talking about him. He'd made on to national news it seemed, every news channel was talking about the weird local hero who took down one of Brightstar's nemesis. This was a level of fame he was a little uncomfortable with. With a sigh, he looked at the certificate that hung on the wall above the television, a reminder of a past life. "Donovan Donogal licenced therapist" it read. It had been a while since it was relevant, it had been a while since that hostage situation were he had been taken prisoner. Where he had talked the scared and panicking hostage takers down. He ended up caught up in another incident not long later where he again talked down the culprit. This became a running thing. People would even recognize him from his earlier exploits, they'd call him a hero and they'd seek him out if something similar was happening. He couldn't remember when he started wearing the bedsheet, but it had been a joke at the time. He remembered signing up for the DPM's vigilante program and how the space on the forms for powers was marked mandatory so he filled it with everything and anything he could think off.
&#x200B;
Now he was famous. Famous for catching criminals. The news spoke about the criminals he had caught but where they talked of in terms of evil people undeserving of mercy he remember each of their faces and each emotional problem that had bested them. He remembered seeing their pain and suffering in their eyes. His time in a cape had taught him two things; happy people rarely commit cruel acts and true psychopaths were rare. He had found the majority of criminals and villains were not evil monsters just people who needed help.
&#x200B;
The news program cut its discussion Captain Paragon to announce breaking news of a bank robbery in progress. Shots had been fired and hostages had been taken. The middle-aged Donovan pulled his tired frame from his comfortable couch. He donned his vestments of bedsheets and rubber boots. He strode out into the night following the sounds of sirens.
|
With the sun finally setting over Kross City, having narrowly avoided disaster that day, it's savior sat on the couch with the TV on eating a microwave dinner. David Green was his name and yet the world knew him by a different one; one he would forever regret saying.
"Today Kross City rejoices as we narrowly escape what would have been a tragic event in the downtown core." a news reporter said on the TV. "Due to the daring efforts of I-Don't-Know Man..."
David let out a sigh. There it was. The mistake. His words taken out of context had sparked an Internet viral video that was spiraling out of control.
"We have a clip from the event that took place today taken by one of the people that was rescued." The TV reported continued.
David saw himself on the screen standing before the known supervillian Nega Xor. David was Standing with his hands sheepishly in his pockets and a confused look on his face. Nega Xor, on the other hand, was on his knees trembling and pleading for his life. "Dude, that was amazing!" Said the person recording the shaky video before asking the fateful question. "Who are you?" David with his mind very boggled still working over the confusion simply said, "I don't know, man."
David turned off the TV. Maybe this was all some elaborate joke. Maybe it would go away. He looked over at his phone which somehow had over nine hundred new unread messages. Many of them were messages of thanks, some were asking for help. One message in particular from the country's president had him lost for words. Another even weirder message was welcoming him, I-Don't-Know Man, to the League of Heroes.
David let out another sigh. He had blown his one opportunity. Mind boggling events or no, David wished he had picked a better name.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
Maybe it was a joke. A joke that got too real.
Im guessing it was some viral video, of the first time I stood up to someone. Someone taped me as a mugging was taking place, and I stumbled into the guy who fell on his own knife, and died almost instantly. But from that cameras view, i just threw down a man 3x bigger than me, with such force it instantly killed him.
I mean, I like to work out. And I had just come out of the gym wearing my compression outfit, about to start my run. I can see how people might think i was dashing in- heroically stepping in and stopping that criminal. I can honestly see how people would think that I was a duper super hero. It was just a right time right place kind of thing. I'd seen these memes and viral videos before, and I figured it would burn out and Id just have a cool bar story. Id get looks and waves going through my daily routine, and to be honest, it was nice. I had even started wearing my compression outfit under my regular clothes as kind of a joke I could play for co-workers and barmates. Everyone would get a good laugh and it was all good fun.
I didnt expect people to actually believe in it.
I would get praise and some small gifts and offerings. I would deny them of course, but then they would call me humble. Again, I just figured it would die out. Aside from a cookie one time i never took anything.
But then, as i was depositing money at my bank a month later...someone decided to try rob it. He had started yelling, waving his gun, tell me to move outta the way. I turned around, and i saw him there, full ski mask and everything, and right through it i could see his face drop. He dropped his gun and threw his hands up muttering sorry, shit, dont kill me. I didnt want the gun to go off so I grabbed it before it fell. It was some cheap toy that broke when i grabbed it. I laughed when that happened in disbelief, you know that kind of laugh you get when you're so nervous cause you could have died kind of laugh. But to the security footage and witnesses, it was a much better story than that.
Thats when this shit all exploded.
"Oh yeah? How so?"
Next thing I know, im the local super hero. I dont know if im just attracted to crime now or what. But atleast once a week I see a robbery, a mugging, an assault or christ even the beginning of an arson. You know, what they call the miracle of 12th street?
"Mmmm yes. The disgruntled employee who had the flamethrower, and was attacking the local hardware store he was fired from...who laced the building with highly flammable explosives, when you were sent in-"
Woah woah, wait WHAT. There were EXPLOSIVES IN THERE? What the-
"You didn't know? They were lined up the front of the store, very obvious and brightly colored"
I THOUGHT THOSE WERE EARLY CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS-
"Mmmm....ill tell the force to refrain from analogies and alliteration from now on."
From now on?? You guys are still going to send me to do this?!? What the hell- i didnt sign up for this.
"...Mr. Walker, whether you like it or not, youve become a deterring...symbol... for this rising global crime wave. This city has been saved by your mere presence more times than I can count. You jave saved lives and avoided extreme situations and damages just by showing up. In light of this new information, you will be trained accordingly and provided appropriate equipment just incase the need should arrive. From your silence so far these past months im assuming you understand this situation. Otherwise you would have told the news what you've told me. You have also kept yourself relatively clean from bribes and gifts-"
Wait how do you know that-
"We've been keeping an eye on you Mr.Walker. we are the government. Its not exactly hard for us to do that these days. Anyways you've shown an unusual moral character that fits our...no, this cities needs more than perfectly. If you accept this, we can minimize the amount of risk you take when you walk out there each time. You do a great service whether you know it or not. You save lives. Help us help you."
I sighed. He was right. It was the best shot to not die.
Okay.
"Good. Training starts tomorrow, and your new suit will be measured and delivered by the next week. But before that, we should introduce you to your new teammates."
Teammates? What?
"Mr. Walker, believe it or not, there are actually super powers, though we've been successful at keeping it covert and secret till now, your recent rise to fame has goaded the more...villainous kind to start acting up again. Thankfully while you're moral character is rare, it is not wholly unique. Im sure you'll fit in just fine. Just dont tell them you don't have powers. Good day Mr.Walker...or should I say, (insert cool super hero name here im late for work)
|
The truth is, I might have a superpower at this point, simply through exposure - Super powers are, after all, contagious.
Here is how you get superpowers. First, you meet someone else with super powers. Or, better, several super powered individuals.
And then you have something happen to you that should kill you, and you gain some bullshit physics-breaking power that stops that from happening.
The statistics geeks say every super powered you have had a conversation with, touched, or slept with gives you a one in a hundred chance (or, to be exact, one in 124) of making your "saving throw versus dying". Only, it doesn't stack - You get a separate roll of the "Dice" for each one. There is this neat graph of what that means, but I trust that you see the problem?
But that is not why everyone thinks I am a power house. Ive never had that brush with death. People are convinced I must be a physical god, because 4 years ago, I was broke, recently divorced, and staring down homelessness. So when the offer came to serve the phantom his papers? Well, 5 thousand is 5 thousand.
There is always some super powered jackass somewhere in the world who has had it with a life of crime, and wants in from the cold. The courts are all in favor of this, as long as you have not left an actual trail of corpses (and sometimes, even if you have, if they think it was unintentional). But guess what happens if a guy made of living flame with 7 bank heists to his rap sheet flies up to a police station?
Which is where I come in. The first time, I was just the one who volunteered. But at this point, I am famous. So mister Flambee wants to surrender, and do his stint of community service digging sub-way tunnels or whatever? He walks behind me and does not get shot.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
The department of power management was established after an incident where a young man's powers went out of control resulting in a massive release of energy. Prior to that everyone had believed that powers were rare. But in the aftermath, it emerged that someone had a set of powers that could have solved the issue easily and neatly that lived only a short distance away. They were unknown and had been living like a normal person. It turned out that the majority of power holders choose to live normal lives. After the incident, new laws were passed requiring the registration of one's powers. These laws also required people to assist if their powers were capable of stopping a crisis. Some embraced this fully becoming full-time heroes working for the DPM others refused to register becoming villains.
&#x200B;
While powers were more common than previously thought that still didn't make them an everyday occurrence. Claire sat in her office looking through her files on the sixty or so power holders in the city. Sitting across from her was a pair of heroes, two of the cities power holders. No, she corrected herself, one of the cities power holders and Captain Paragon. She brought up Captain Paragon's file. He patiently sat there, a friendly smile on his face wearing a white bedsheet as a cape, yellow rubber boots and with a store bought stun gun at his waist, as she looked through his file for the thousandth time. He had come up zero on every power detection test ever devised, he had failed the DPM's fitness tests and failed them miserably and his list of self-reported powers was long and read like a teenager's superpower wishlist. "Heat beams like Brightstar has" and "wall rebuilding vision" were two standouts. Captain Paragon had failed to demonstrate a single one of these powers on any occasion and thus each power was marked as "unconfirmed". It was clear that his reported powers were completely fictitious which would normally be enough for some nasty fines as failing to report powers or reporting powers falsely was a crime, yet whenever the subject was brought to the attention of the relevant people the issue was dismissed. But by far the most frustrating aspect of the Captain's file was the achievements and exploits section. It was massive and contained name after name of captured villains but unlike the powers section each entry was marked "confirmed". These achievements were no fictitious lies, filled jail cells stood as a testament to that. Somehow this bumbling powerless man was by far the most prolific hero and effective hero in the city.
&#x200B;
His partner which now sat beside him was a former villain that the Captain had managed to coax into giving up his villainous ways, signing up with the DPM and becoming his partner. He'd been a dangerous one, his power was the ability to teleport any apple that he was holding to any point within two hundred meters. The man's morals had kept him from using this power to teleport apples inside living things but he had used it to great effect in disabling police and security equipment. How the Captain had managed to convince such a man was a mystery.
&#x200B;
Claire looked over both of them. "So you're going to tell me how you guys were able to drag back a villain that was able to beat Brightstar of all people and without a scratch on either of you," The two men exchanged a quick glance before the former villain replied "The captain spoke to him and that's all that happened"
&#x200B;
Much later in the evening after dealing with DPM debriefs, hordes of reporters and fans requesting his autograph Captain Paragon slipped into his small, cramped apartment and divested himself of his bedsheet cape and rubber boots. There had been many offers by people to upgrade his gear to something less 'thrown together by an amateur in twenty minutes' and more 'professional hero serving the city' but he felt they rather missed the point. He wasn't anything like the other heroes and he wanted this to be apparent. He wasn't a glorious demigod descended to save the day he was a dumb idiot wading into matters he couldn't possibly contend with.
&#x200B;
He flicked the television on and dropped onto his couch. The news was on and they were talking about him. He'd made on to national news it seemed, every news channel was talking about the weird local hero who took down one of Brightstar's nemesis. This was a level of fame he was a little uncomfortable with. With a sigh, he looked at the certificate that hung on the wall above the television, a reminder of a past life. "Donovan Donogal licenced therapist" it read. It had been a while since it was relevant, it had been a while since that hostage situation were he had been taken prisoner. Where he had talked the scared and panicking hostage takers down. He ended up caught up in another incident not long later where he again talked down the culprit. This became a running thing. People would even recognize him from his earlier exploits, they'd call him a hero and they'd seek him out if something similar was happening. He couldn't remember when he started wearing the bedsheet, but it had been a joke at the time. He remembered signing up for the DPM's vigilante program and how the space on the forms for powers was marked mandatory so he filled it with everything and anything he could think off.
&#x200B;
Now he was famous. Famous for catching criminals. The news spoke about the criminals he had caught but where they talked of in terms of evil people undeserving of mercy he remember each of their faces and each emotional problem that had bested them. He remembered seeing their pain and suffering in their eyes. His time in a cape had taught him two things; happy people rarely commit cruel acts and true psychopaths were rare. He had found the majority of criminals and villains were not evil monsters just people who needed help.
&#x200B;
The news program cut its discussion Captain Paragon to announce breaking news of a bank robbery in progress. Shots had been fired and hostages had been taken. The middle-aged Donovan pulled his tired frame from his comfortable couch. He donned his vestments of bedsheets and rubber boots. He strode out into the night following the sounds of sirens.
|
The truth is, I might have a superpower at this point, simply through exposure - Super powers are, after all, contagious.
Here is how you get superpowers. First, you meet someone else with super powers. Or, better, several super powered individuals.
And then you have something happen to you that should kill you, and you gain some bullshit physics-breaking power that stops that from happening.
The statistics geeks say every super powered you have had a conversation with, touched, or slept with gives you a one in a hundred chance (or, to be exact, one in 124) of making your "saving throw versus dying". Only, it doesn't stack - You get a separate roll of the "Dice" for each one. There is this neat graph of what that means, but I trust that you see the problem?
But that is not why everyone thinks I am a power house. Ive never had that brush with death. People are convinced I must be a physical god, because 4 years ago, I was broke, recently divorced, and staring down homelessness. So when the offer came to serve the phantom his papers? Well, 5 thousand is 5 thousand.
There is always some super powered jackass somewhere in the world who has had it with a life of crime, and wants in from the cold. The courts are all in favor of this, as long as you have not left an actual trail of corpses (and sometimes, even if you have, if they think it was unintentional). But guess what happens if a guy made of living flame with 7 bank heists to his rap sheet flies up to a police station?
Which is where I come in. The first time, I was just the one who volunteered. But at this point, I am famous. So mister Flambee wants to surrender, and do his stint of community service digging sub-way tunnels or whatever? He walks behind me and does not get shot.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
The department of power management was established after an incident where a young man's powers went out of control resulting in a massive release of energy. Prior to that everyone had believed that powers were rare. But in the aftermath, it emerged that someone had a set of powers that could have solved the issue easily and neatly that lived only a short distance away. They were unknown and had been living like a normal person. It turned out that the majority of power holders choose to live normal lives. After the incident, new laws were passed requiring the registration of one's powers. These laws also required people to assist if their powers were capable of stopping a crisis. Some embraced this fully becoming full-time heroes working for the DPM others refused to register becoming villains.
&#x200B;
While powers were more common than previously thought that still didn't make them an everyday occurrence. Claire sat in her office looking through her files on the sixty or so power holders in the city. Sitting across from her was a pair of heroes, two of the cities power holders. No, she corrected herself, one of the cities power holders and Captain Paragon. She brought up Captain Paragon's file. He patiently sat there, a friendly smile on his face wearing a white bedsheet as a cape, yellow rubber boots and with a store bought stun gun at his waist, as she looked through his file for the thousandth time. He had come up zero on every power detection test ever devised, he had failed the DPM's fitness tests and failed them miserably and his list of self-reported powers was long and read like a teenager's superpower wishlist. "Heat beams like Brightstar has" and "wall rebuilding vision" were two standouts. Captain Paragon had failed to demonstrate a single one of these powers on any occasion and thus each power was marked as "unconfirmed". It was clear that his reported powers were completely fictitious which would normally be enough for some nasty fines as failing to report powers or reporting powers falsely was a crime, yet whenever the subject was brought to the attention of the relevant people the issue was dismissed. But by far the most frustrating aspect of the Captain's file was the achievements and exploits section. It was massive and contained name after name of captured villains but unlike the powers section each entry was marked "confirmed". These achievements were no fictitious lies, filled jail cells stood as a testament to that. Somehow this bumbling powerless man was by far the most prolific hero and effective hero in the city.
&#x200B;
His partner which now sat beside him was a former villain that the Captain had managed to coax into giving up his villainous ways, signing up with the DPM and becoming his partner. He'd been a dangerous one, his power was the ability to teleport any apple that he was holding to any point within two hundred meters. The man's morals had kept him from using this power to teleport apples inside living things but he had used it to great effect in disabling police and security equipment. How the Captain had managed to convince such a man was a mystery.
&#x200B;
Claire looked over both of them. "So you're going to tell me how you guys were able to drag back a villain that was able to beat Brightstar of all people and without a scratch on either of you," The two men exchanged a quick glance before the former villain replied "The captain spoke to him and that's all that happened"
&#x200B;
Much later in the evening after dealing with DPM debriefs, hordes of reporters and fans requesting his autograph Captain Paragon slipped into his small, cramped apartment and divested himself of his bedsheet cape and rubber boots. There had been many offers by people to upgrade his gear to something less 'thrown together by an amateur in twenty minutes' and more 'professional hero serving the city' but he felt they rather missed the point. He wasn't anything like the other heroes and he wanted this to be apparent. He wasn't a glorious demigod descended to save the day he was a dumb idiot wading into matters he couldn't possibly contend with.
&#x200B;
He flicked the television on and dropped onto his couch. The news was on and they were talking about him. He'd made on to national news it seemed, every news channel was talking about the weird local hero who took down one of Brightstar's nemesis. This was a level of fame he was a little uncomfortable with. With a sigh, he looked at the certificate that hung on the wall above the television, a reminder of a past life. "Donovan Donogal licenced therapist" it read. It had been a while since it was relevant, it had been a while since that hostage situation were he had been taken prisoner. Where he had talked the scared and panicking hostage takers down. He ended up caught up in another incident not long later where he again talked down the culprit. This became a running thing. People would even recognize him from his earlier exploits, they'd call him a hero and they'd seek him out if something similar was happening. He couldn't remember when he started wearing the bedsheet, but it had been a joke at the time. He remembered signing up for the DPM's vigilante program and how the space on the forms for powers was marked mandatory so he filled it with everything and anything he could think off.
&#x200B;
Now he was famous. Famous for catching criminals. The news spoke about the criminals he had caught but where they talked of in terms of evil people undeserving of mercy he remember each of their faces and each emotional problem that had bested them. He remembered seeing their pain and suffering in their eyes. His time in a cape had taught him two things; happy people rarely commit cruel acts and true psychopaths were rare. He had found the majority of criminals and villains were not evil monsters just people who needed help.
&#x200B;
The news program cut its discussion Captain Paragon to announce breaking news of a bank robbery in progress. Shots had been fired and hostages had been taken. The middle-aged Donovan pulled his tired frame from his comfortable couch. He donned his vestments of bedsheets and rubber boots. He strode out into the night following the sounds of sirens.
|
Maybe it was a joke. A joke that got too real.
Im guessing it was some viral video, of the first time I stood up to someone. Someone taped me as a mugging was taking place, and I stumbled into the guy who fell on his own knife, and died almost instantly. But from that cameras view, i just threw down a man 3x bigger than me, with such force it instantly killed him.
I mean, I like to work out. And I had just come out of the gym wearing my compression outfit, about to start my run. I can see how people might think i was dashing in- heroically stepping in and stopping that criminal. I can honestly see how people would think that I was a duper super hero. It was just a right time right place kind of thing. I'd seen these memes and viral videos before, and I figured it would burn out and Id just have a cool bar story. Id get looks and waves going through my daily routine, and to be honest, it was nice. I had even started wearing my compression outfit under my regular clothes as kind of a joke I could play for co-workers and barmates. Everyone would get a good laugh and it was all good fun.
I didnt expect people to actually believe in it.
I would get praise and some small gifts and offerings. I would deny them of course, but then they would call me humble. Again, I just figured it would die out. Aside from a cookie one time i never took anything.
But then, as i was depositing money at my bank a month later...someone decided to try rob it. He had started yelling, waving his gun, tell me to move outta the way. I turned around, and i saw him there, full ski mask and everything, and right through it i could see his face drop. He dropped his gun and threw his hands up muttering sorry, shit, dont kill me. I didnt want the gun to go off so I grabbed it before it fell. It was some cheap toy that broke when i grabbed it. I laughed when that happened in disbelief, you know that kind of laugh you get when you're so nervous cause you could have died kind of laugh. But to the security footage and witnesses, it was a much better story than that.
Thats when this shit all exploded.
"Oh yeah? How so?"
Next thing I know, im the local super hero. I dont know if im just attracted to crime now or what. But atleast once a week I see a robbery, a mugging, an assault or christ even the beginning of an arson. You know, what they call the miracle of 12th street?
"Mmmm yes. The disgruntled employee who had the flamethrower, and was attacking the local hardware store he was fired from...who laced the building with highly flammable explosives, when you were sent in-"
Woah woah, wait WHAT. There were EXPLOSIVES IN THERE? What the-
"You didn't know? They were lined up the front of the store, very obvious and brightly colored"
I THOUGHT THOSE WERE EARLY CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS-
"Mmmm....ill tell the force to refrain from analogies and alliteration from now on."
From now on?? You guys are still going to send me to do this?!? What the hell- i didnt sign up for this.
"...Mr. Walker, whether you like it or not, youve become a deterring...symbol... for this rising global crime wave. This city has been saved by your mere presence more times than I can count. You jave saved lives and avoided extreme situations and damages just by showing up. In light of this new information, you will be trained accordingly and provided appropriate equipment just incase the need should arrive. From your silence so far these past months im assuming you understand this situation. Otherwise you would have told the news what you've told me. You have also kept yourself relatively clean from bribes and gifts-"
Wait how do you know that-
"We've been keeping an eye on you Mr.Walker. we are the government. Its not exactly hard for us to do that these days. Anyways you've shown an unusual moral character that fits our...no, this cities needs more than perfectly. If you accept this, we can minimize the amount of risk you take when you walk out there each time. You do a great service whether you know it or not. You save lives. Help us help you."
I sighed. He was right. It was the best shot to not die.
Okay.
"Good. Training starts tomorrow, and your new suit will be measured and delivered by the next week. But before that, we should introduce you to your new teammates."
Teammates? What?
"Mr. Walker, believe it or not, there are actually super powers, though we've been successful at keeping it covert and secret till now, your recent rise to fame has goaded the more...villainous kind to start acting up again. Thankfully while you're moral character is rare, it is not wholly unique. Im sure you'll fit in just fine. Just dont tell them you don't have powers. Good day Mr.Walker...or should I say, (insert cool super hero name here im late for work)
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
|
I’ve always been a loner.
Growing up, my overly protective single mother rarely let me out of the house. I was homeschooled, so I didn’t have many friends.
It was only at age 17, after my mother’s death that things got weird. I didn’t understand it at the time, but my whole world would change.
When my mother died, I had to start taking care of myself, starting with finances. It all started with a trip to the bank to figure out what to do with my mother’s bank account. I was speaking in a private room with one of the bank managers, when a man ran in waving a gun.
The robber was yelling at the tellers to fill bags with cash and yelling for everyone to come out to the foyer and lay down. I stood and left the room to follow his demands, but the second we locked eyes, he let out a big breath and simply walked right up to me and handed me his gun. He just kept saying “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
At that exact moment, the cops burst through the door. They looked between me and the robber, confused as to who to apprehend, when finally the manager jumped in front of me and said “it’s him you want!”
Everyone hailed me as a hero, but I had no clue what had happened. I was so confused.
Later that night, I was cooking dinner with the television on when I heard a news cast about the robbery. Curious, I walked over to get a better look.
A reporter was asking the handcuffed robber what made him hand his gun over to a stranger.
His said “It was that man. He filled me with a sense of peace and calm. In that moment, I realized what I was doing was beneath me and I didn’t want to have any part of it anymore. I was instantly filled with regret.”
Since then, all I have to do is be in the presence of someone considering evil, and it changes their minds. Big or small, young or old, it affects everyone the same.
|
I remember the day it all started. It was early in the morning, so early the sun was just starting to peak over the mountains casting the sky in shades of red and purple.
I was walking down to the local Coffee shop, it was only just a few blocks down from where I lived. Coffee tasted horrible mind you, but I didn’t really care it was cheap and convenient.
When I got there I was quite surprised to see it was being surrounded by police. When I tried to ask one of the officers what was happening none of them responded at first, because they were all whispering to each other and pointing at me. One of the officers ran up to our local sheriff and brought him over to me. He sighed in relief when he saw me “Thank God you’re here. So here’s the situation, the super villain known as the Caffeinhater has taken everyone in the building hostage for a ransom of a hundred million dollars. We need you to go in there and put a stop to his villainy.”
I was about to call him a lunatic for wanting me to go in and stop a hostage situation. Oh and for claiming their being held hostage by a super villain!
But before I could he started to push me towards the door to the coffee shop. I tried to fight back but the older man was to strong for me, and he shoved me inside. After getting shoved past the door I lost balance and fell onto the ground. As I slowly picked myself off the ground I was able to get a good look around the room, two things immediately caught my attention. The first one being the small group of people huddled tightly together and then standing in front of them... oh wow that must be Caffeinhater.
He was wearing almost all black spandex expect for a logo on the back of it that had a white coffee mugged crossed out. He looked to be about four hundred pounds of pure muscle. He Hadn’t noticed me yet because his back was turned to me as he tried to instruct his hostages in the evils of caffeine. (Via screaming at them about it.” I began to try to sneak away but one of the old wooden boards underneath me creaked. He quickly turned around and instead of a look of anger quickly followed by his fist in my face, he had a look absolute fear quickly followed by him raising his hands in the air. “I surrender!” After that I had to awkwardly escort the much larger man outside to much cheers and applause.
Ever since that day whenever I wasn’t out to work plumbing, I’ve kept running into similar situations that always end the same way. Honestly it baffled me for a while, I had no superpowers as far as I could tell, I wasn’t the strongest or most intimidating guy. Honestly I’m more on the overweight side then anything else. But today I think I figured out what my power is. Its honestly was very simple now that I think about it. My power obviously is
Hope you enjoyed it. Any criticism is welcome! God bless!
Edit. Just edited it so it’s less of a block of text like one of the comments recommend.
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Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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(This one kind of strayed from the prompt. I'm going to make some edits to make things happen without any actual effort from the protagonist.)
&#x200B;
Kirk T. Burbank shrugged on his jacket and walked out the door into the crisp fall air. Stepping outside Kirk was greeted by an assortment of familiar sights and smells. His neighbor and good friend, Charlie scraping the light frost of the front of his sedan, his wife Melanie on the front porch sipping her coffee, their young son at her side ready to wave farewell.
&#x200B;
"Hi Uncle B!" the little ragamuffin yelled right on cue, waving emphatically at his dad's friend. "Hey CJ!" Kirk chimed back. Waving to Mel and shooting a nod at Charlie. Kirk hopped into his car, backed out of the driveway and headed towards his office. Hoping that today he'd have a quiet, easy day. Being a hero was fun. But sometimes you just wanted to file some reports and flirt with Stacey in the breakroom. Kirk tuned his radio to his favourite station, and settled in for the relatively short drive to work.
&#x200B;
\*You're listening to 101.9 the Breeze! Seahaven's home for classic rock and your safe harbor for everything going on in our great little town.\*
&#x200B;
The familiar voice rattled off the traffic and weather, nothing overly shocking. He was pleased to hear that the rain forecast had been pushed off for another few days. He'd inherited his father's fear of water, but come by it honestly at least. Kirk had nearly drowned in a pool as a toddler. Just being out in it rain made him uncomfortable.
&#x200B;
Kirk shook off the unease the idea of water caused him and turned up the radio. The familiar riff of "Jumpin Jack Flash," echoed on his radio. He made the same left turn he did every day. And headed up the hill towards his office.
&#x200B;
\------
&#x200B;
Hours later Kirk hopped back in his car. A flush on his face from the hug Stacey had given him after he'd asked her for dinner this weekend. He could definitely feel their relationship blooming and was excited at the prospects. But resolved himself to take it slowly. Not wanting to wreck the friendship in the process of courting the romantic side.
&#x200B;
He eased forward into traffic, taking the right turn onto the 4 lane "hiway" that led back to the suburbs of his quaint portside town. Grinning as his favourite song came on the radio, he rattled off the opening lyrics to "Bohemian Rhapsody" alongside his favorite singer.
Just then a car came flying past him, tires squealing as a sharp corner was made, ricocheting off a nearby parked minivan and careening down the street. Kirk looked in his rear-view mirror and heard the sounds of sirens in the distance. However, he was confident they'd never catch up. Thinking quickly, Kirk flipped on his hazards and punched the accelerator.
&#x200B;
Kirk didn't know how he'd become such a good driver. It had just happened one day, when Charlie's appendix had burst while they were camping and Kirk needed to rush him to the hospital. He'd slipped in and out of traffic with ease. Finding gaps where they didn't exist seconds before. He'd made the 45 minute drive to the nearest hospital in about 25 minutes, launching down a hill, jumping a train track and taking shortcuts he didn't even know existed.
&#x200B;
"It was like Jesus took the wheel" Kirk had laughed. Almost like someone else was driving through him, giving him an uncanny sense of where to go even if he was unsure moments before.
The fear had left him a year or so prior. Enough of these incidents popping up had given him the confidence to know that he was the best driver on the road. Kirk knew that he'd be safe and drove with abandon as he hopped a shoulder and up onto the curb beside the fleeing getaway car. The black masked felons in the car reached a weapon out of the vehicle and shot, Kirk stomped the brake and fell in behind, narrowly avoiding being clipped.
&#x200B;
\*Thunderbolt and lightning very very frightening me!\*
&#x200B;
The radio chimed in as Kirk swept into oncoming traffic, narrowly avoiding a freight truck and expertly clipping the back end of the escape vehicle. The car spun around and faced oncoming traffic, one side pinned up against a parked car, sirens rapidly approaching. Kirk pushed his vehicle right up against the passenger side of the vehicle. Trapping the passengers inside.
&#x200B;
\* Bismillah, we will not let you go, let him go\*
&#x200B;
The radio's near perfect timing made Kirk smile, springing from his vehicle he walked in front of the pinned vehicle, "Fun's over boys stay inside your car!" he commanded and waited for the boys in blue to arrive.
&#x200B;
One of the drivers had other ideas and crawled out of the sunroof. Kirk sprung into action. Running up the front of the car and grabbing the future convict by the neck of his coat. He pulled him easily out of the car, and flung him down on the pavement. Springing down on top of him and pinning him while the cops arrived. "You just got unlucky." He said to the man on the pavement below him. "You took the wrong turn, criminal!"
&#x200B;
Kirk looked up and grinned as he saw Captain Shaw, Charlie's father was first to the scene. It was always easier when Shaw was there. He'd let Kirk quietly slip away before the reporters showed up and tried to interview him.
&#x200B;
The man pinned under Kirk had stopped struggling but looked up at Kirk as Shaw pulled the mask from his face. "I'm going to hurt you one day, you bastard!" He yelled at Kirk's back as he walked away. "I don't know how! But I'll hurt you or someone you love! You're not invincible Captain Americar!"
&#x200B;
Kirk laughed to himself, safe in the knowledge that he could take on any would-be villain. This wasn't his first run-in with a criminal. Waving goodbye to the grateful police, he started his car and drove away. Back to his comfortable, familiar suburban life in Seahaven.
&#x200B;
\-----
&#x200B;
"Man I wish he'd come up with a better name." - 'Captain Americar' had been a bit of a trademark nightmare but Disney had eventually bought in too. 'Shaw' helped the man on the pavement up and dusted him off. "Good work Jorge you really sold that one. Shame he got your face though. Sounds like command-center already has a good storyline from your improv though. Stacey's being briefed as we speak."
&#x200B;
The stuntman stood. His body creaked, he hadn't expected to bear the full weight of Burbank as he jumped off the car and he'd have bruises for weeks dealing with the impact. "I just wish he had a better catch phrase." He sighed rolling his eyes and mimed mockingly, "You took the wrong turn? Give me a break."
&#x200B;
Jorge radio'd up to command. "Did we get all that? You guys happy?"
&#x200B;
Far above, looking down from the top of the massive dome was the command centre, refurbed since the show was revived. "Great job boys," Christof said, placing a hand gently on his professional driver. He looked over at the shows co-creator. "What'd you think T?" he asked, cautious as ever. Aware that he had to ensure his former star was pleased.
&#x200B;
The elder Burbank looked at the wall of monitors recording his son. He replayed the incident from his son's early life, where he'd somehow fallen into the pool in the backyard and almost drowned. He sighed and smiled back at Christof. "Yes, as long as he's safe and happy." He said. And looked back at his son. First name Kirk after his TV father, middle name Truman after himself.
&#x200B;
Christof smiled, the Truman show reboot had been a ratings success. And this time he had Truman's buy-in completely. And every American TV tuned in 24/7/365.
&#x200B;
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I remember the day it all started. It was early in the morning, so early the sun was just starting to peak over the mountains casting the sky in shades of red and purple.
I was walking down to the local Coffee shop, it was only just a few blocks down from where I lived. Coffee tasted horrible mind you, but I didn’t really care it was cheap and convenient.
When I got there I was quite surprised to see it was being surrounded by police. When I tried to ask one of the officers what was happening none of them responded at first, because they were all whispering to each other and pointing at me. One of the officers ran up to our local sheriff and brought him over to me. He sighed in relief when he saw me “Thank God you’re here. So here’s the situation, the super villain known as the Caffeinhater has taken everyone in the building hostage for a ransom of a hundred million dollars. We need you to go in there and put a stop to his villainy.”
I was about to call him a lunatic for wanting me to go in and stop a hostage situation. Oh and for claiming their being held hostage by a super villain!
But before I could he started to push me towards the door to the coffee shop. I tried to fight back but the older man was to strong for me, and he shoved me inside. After getting shoved past the door I lost balance and fell onto the ground. As I slowly picked myself off the ground I was able to get a good look around the room, two things immediately caught my attention. The first one being the small group of people huddled tightly together and then standing in front of them... oh wow that must be Caffeinhater.
He was wearing almost all black spandex expect for a logo on the back of it that had a white coffee mugged crossed out. He looked to be about four hundred pounds of pure muscle. He Hadn’t noticed me yet because his back was turned to me as he tried to instruct his hostages in the evils of caffeine. (Via screaming at them about it.” I began to try to sneak away but one of the old wooden boards underneath me creaked. He quickly turned around and instead of a look of anger quickly followed by his fist in my face, he had a look absolute fear quickly followed by him raising his hands in the air. “I surrender!” After that I had to awkwardly escort the much larger man outside to much cheers and applause.
Ever since that day whenever I wasn’t out to work plumbing, I’ve kept running into similar situations that always end the same way. Honestly it baffled me for a while, I had no superpowers as far as I could tell, I wasn’t the strongest or most intimidating guy. Honestly I’m more on the overweight side then anything else. But today I think I figured out what my power is. Its honestly was very simple now that I think about it. My power obviously is
Hope you enjoyed it. Any criticism is welcome! God bless!
Edit. Just edited it so it’s less of a block of text like one of the comments recommend.
|
Edit: Ayyy, looks like this post has beaten my previous upvote high score by about 9.8 thousand!
|
[WP] You are a superhero. Your power? ... You don’t know. One day people just started considering you a superhero and sending you to deal with the super villains of the world, who promptly surrender when they encounter you.
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"He knows!" you think as you gaze at the, stone faced, long haired, man in the seat across from you. The plane rattles and shakes. Still, his gaze is fixed upon you. You wipe your brow even though it is frigid in the military cargo plane.
"Some turbulence, eh?" you offer wishing you hadn't accepted the mission.
He reaches his long delicate fingers into a small bag attached to his jeans and you unconsciously flinch. You think it is a perfectly normal reaction. You have watched Kojim's videos on vidtube and his supernatural dexterity, reaction time, and technique paired with an unparalleled aura of coolness made him one of the most popular and dangerous men on earth.
He takes out a pad and a pen.
"You give me autograph, please?" he asks
"Sure?" you reply.
He immediately starts taking out action figures, dvds, and posters out of the bag.
"For my friends?" he says stars in his eyes.
You quickly sign them and return to your thoughts as Kojim marvels over his haul.
This was the fifth "world ending" mission you have embarked on and the knot in your stomach has only grown bigger each time. You know that your luck can't possibly continue. After the first mission things snowballed and between the endorsement deals, the tv series, and talk show appearances you have found yourself in a corner. At least with the money you could commission the metallic suit you are wearing now. With cybernetic enhancements and a personal artificial intelligence program it was the most cutting edge piece of technology on earth. And it was being worn by a fraud.
"Drop zone approaching!" a bodiless voice whispers in your head.
You nod towards Koji and you both stand up.
"It is an honor to fight with you!" he says back to being a stone faced cool guy.
"Yeah, yeah, lets get this over with!" you reply.
The cargo door opens and you both jump from the plane into the murky darkness.
&#x200B;
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I remember the day it all started. It was early in the morning, so early the sun was just starting to peak over the mountains casting the sky in shades of red and purple.
I was walking down to the local Coffee shop, it was only just a few blocks down from where I lived. Coffee tasted horrible mind you, but I didn’t really care it was cheap and convenient.
When I got there I was quite surprised to see it was being surrounded by police. When I tried to ask one of the officers what was happening none of them responded at first, because they were all whispering to each other and pointing at me. One of the officers ran up to our local sheriff and brought him over to me. He sighed in relief when he saw me “Thank God you’re here. So here’s the situation, the super villain known as the Caffeinhater has taken everyone in the building hostage for a ransom of a hundred million dollars. We need you to go in there and put a stop to his villainy.”
I was about to call him a lunatic for wanting me to go in and stop a hostage situation. Oh and for claiming their being held hostage by a super villain!
But before I could he started to push me towards the door to the coffee shop. I tried to fight back but the older man was to strong for me, and he shoved me inside. After getting shoved past the door I lost balance and fell onto the ground. As I slowly picked myself off the ground I was able to get a good look around the room, two things immediately caught my attention. The first one being the small group of people huddled tightly together and then standing in front of them... oh wow that must be Caffeinhater.
He was wearing almost all black spandex expect for a logo on the back of it that had a white coffee mugged crossed out. He looked to be about four hundred pounds of pure muscle. He Hadn’t noticed me yet because his back was turned to me as he tried to instruct his hostages in the evils of caffeine. (Via screaming at them about it.” I began to try to sneak away but one of the old wooden boards underneath me creaked. He quickly turned around and instead of a look of anger quickly followed by his fist in my face, he had a look absolute fear quickly followed by him raising his hands in the air. “I surrender!” After that I had to awkwardly escort the much larger man outside to much cheers and applause.
Ever since that day whenever I wasn’t out to work plumbing, I’ve kept running into similar situations that always end the same way. Honestly it baffled me for a while, I had no superpowers as far as I could tell, I wasn’t the strongest or most intimidating guy. Honestly I’m more on the overweight side then anything else. But today I think I figured out what my power is. Its honestly was very simple now that I think about it. My power obviously is
Hope you enjoyed it. Any criticism is welcome! God bless!
Edit. Just edited it so it’s less of a block of text like one of the comments recommend.
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[WP]: Immortal vampires don’t fall in love with teenage girls. Vampires fall for cynical middle-aged women who have been through enough not to be impressed by anything, because honestly, that’s refreshing.
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I sat, in nervous anticipation, holding my book of letters and notes. This seemingly harmless volume had been responsible for the beginnings of endings to all of my previous relationships. As soon as those previous girlfriends had become aware of my immortality, they’d acted weirdly around me. But Linda wasn’t like them, no, she was a whole different type of woman. A 52 year old woman working for the post office, to be specific. Sarah and Tiffany and all of the other past girlfriends were no older than 20, and definitely did not have the sheer grit to work in postal service.
“This is a note I received from a girlfriend in 1836,” I proudly stated, ready to risk boasting my collection of relics I’d acquired over the last 602 years. My eyes shifted from the paper to Linda, who was devoutly paying atten- oh, who was dozed off.
“Linda!” I tapped her shoulder.
“Oh? What? Yeah, baby, that’s so cool,” she said, yawning.
“Linda! I just revealed to you that I was alive in 1836!” My face twisted, sure she hadn’t heard me in her light slumber.
“Interesting,” she said, but disinterest dripped from her voice. Her eyes weren’t on me, but on her nails. “Are you a vampire or something?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m a vampire! Are you not the least bit shocked or scared?!” I was baffled.
She remained silent for a second, evidently mulling it over. “Not really, no. I’ve always thought you were a bit pale.”
“But- but Linda, I am a supernatural being! I posses the ability to turn into a bat! I have been alive for over 600 years and haven’t aged a day past 18!”
“And my landlord says he can talk to ghosts. We all have our quirks, Carl.” she briefly made eye contact with me, one eyebrow raised, then returned her attention to her nails.
“Do you not believe me or something?” I said, boggled at her unimpressed demeanor.
“I believe you. I’d always wondered why you kept blood bags in the fridge.” She paused. “Hey, does this mean I’m not actually a cougar?”
“Uh, no, I still look like an 18 year old. You’re 52. I may be older, but you - hold on, Linda, now you have me sidetracked.” I shook my head. “You’ve seen the blood bags in the fridge? And you’ve never questioned it?”
“I don’t really think it’s my business what a man wants to keep in his own fridge, Carl,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Without thinking, I blurted out what was on my mind: “Linda, I think I’m in love with you.”
“Glad to hear it.” She smirked.
It’s been quite a few years since I last saw her, and I’ll never date another 16-18 year old quirky brunette. Middle-aged women are simply superior.
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“You look absolutely ravishing tonight,” Edward murmured. He appraised Vanessa with hunger and delight. She had slipped off the thick wool overcoat to reveal a deep red dress that showed off the curvy figure of a woman who kept good care of her body. Vanessa laughed as she put down her lipstick-stained champagne glass. It had been years since he had been so fascinating with anything. He knew when the time came, he would be sad to kill her.
Vanessa smiled as she took out an engraved silver dagger from her leather purse, and used it to spread butter slowly on her bread. She was going to be paid nicely with this job, but why couldn’t she enjoy herself a little bit before it got to the messy part? Food, pleasure, murder. These were all part of the sensuous experience. She slowly licked the butter off the knife, purposefully teasing him.
“Why do you do what you do?” Edward asked, eying the dull sheen of the sharp blade, elaborate carvings running the length of the side. The edge touching the soft flesh of her tongue.
Vanessa stared intimately at him and responded, “Because I’m good at it. Because it makes life more interesting. And because—oops.”
Edward gulped as he saw Vanessa’s finger. A rivulet of blood coming from where she had purposely nicked it with the tip of her knife. Vanessa looked at Edward as she slowly lifted her finger to her mouth and and sucked on it. Edward could smell the thick copper of her blood, and it was intoxicating. Edward trembled with the adrenaline of an electrified night, eyes dilated black in the flickering candlelight. This was going to be a dangerously exciting first date.
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[WP]: Immortal vampires don’t fall in love with teenage girls. Vampires fall for cynical middle-aged women who have been through enough not to be impressed by anything, because honestly, that’s refreshing.
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I sat, in nervous anticipation, holding my book of letters and notes. This seemingly harmless volume had been responsible for the beginnings of endings to all of my previous relationships. As soon as those previous girlfriends had become aware of my immortality, they’d acted weirdly around me. But Linda wasn’t like them, no, she was a whole different type of woman. A 52 year old woman working for the post office, to be specific. Sarah and Tiffany and all of the other past girlfriends were no older than 20, and definitely did not have the sheer grit to work in postal service.
“This is a note I received from a girlfriend in 1836,” I proudly stated, ready to risk boasting my collection of relics I’d acquired over the last 602 years. My eyes shifted from the paper to Linda, who was devoutly paying atten- oh, who was dozed off.
“Linda!” I tapped her shoulder.
“Oh? What? Yeah, baby, that’s so cool,” she said, yawning.
“Linda! I just revealed to you that I was alive in 1836!” My face twisted, sure she hadn’t heard me in her light slumber.
“Interesting,” she said, but disinterest dripped from her voice. Her eyes weren’t on me, but on her nails. “Are you a vampire or something?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m a vampire! Are you not the least bit shocked or scared?!” I was baffled.
She remained silent for a second, evidently mulling it over. “Not really, no. I’ve always thought you were a bit pale.”
“But- but Linda, I am a supernatural being! I posses the ability to turn into a bat! I have been alive for over 600 years and haven’t aged a day past 18!”
“And my landlord says he can talk to ghosts. We all have our quirks, Carl.” she briefly made eye contact with me, one eyebrow raised, then returned her attention to her nails.
“Do you not believe me or something?” I said, boggled at her unimpressed demeanor.
“I believe you. I’d always wondered why you kept blood bags in the fridge.” She paused. “Hey, does this mean I’m not actually a cougar?”
“Uh, no, I still look like an 18 year old. You’re 52. I may be older, but you - hold on, Linda, now you have me sidetracked.” I shook my head. “You’ve seen the blood bags in the fridge? And you’ve never questioned it?”
“I don’t really think it’s my business what a man wants to keep in his own fridge, Carl,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Without thinking, I blurted out what was on my mind: “Linda, I think I’m in love with you.”
“Glad to hear it.” She smirked.
It’s been quite a few years since I last saw her, and I’ll never date another 16-18 year old quirky brunette. Middle-aged women are simply superior.
|
There's a a slight pitter-patter on the rooftops and street as you walk by various houses, each with a slightly different yard ornament. The air smells musty and rotten.
You think to yourself, "it could be the dumpsters," you give pause as you think a little more. "No, it's most definitely this cloak. Gertrude was right back then, I should have tossed it."
Your mind wanders as you continue walking, as you have begun to reminisce in old memories. Gertrude was a sweet heart. She had big dreams, wanted to be an apothecary. You think about the golden blonde hair that would occasionally fall out of her bonnet and how it clashed with her dark brown eyes. As your memories continue, you feel the heat of the fire, smell the putrid stench of burning flesh sticking out so much worse for your heightened senses, and hear the screams of agony as Gertrude called for you. They burned her at the stake. Not for being a witch, as was common in those days. No, they burned her for loving an outcast. The village folk never figured out what you were. Some could guess from the stories that followed your name. What it came down to for them is that you weren't born in their village, meaning you weren't one of them unless you put forth the effort that you planned make permanent residence; however, you made it clear when you got there that you were a traveling salesman.
"She didn't deserve that, she just wanted to help people." You think as you wipe a rain drop from your face. That's what you'll tell yourself anyways, you would never admit to crying.
As you continue in thought, you find the place you were looking for.
'Patty's Pub'. It was an eyesore, but it was the only place you could get mead in the States these days. The founder's name wasn't even Patrick, it was just a schtick. The sign was a faded emerald with golden letters spelling out the name, the outside of the building was freshly painted a more lime color than emerald. There were two cauldrons of shamrocks, one on either side of the door.
"The lengths this country goes to to make profit off of stereotypes is despicable - but it works," you mutter as you step inside.
"Samael!" You hear the moment you step inside. The name is followed by cheers. The man who called to you is Charles Grimbly. A portly man who serves as the bartender calls for you to sit at the bar as he sets down a mug of a golden liquor. "The usual honey mead for you, my good sir. On the house today with this bleak weather. You suspect that the cheers came from the other usuals who come in on a nearly daily basis as the same people now boo you. Clearly already drunk, most of the men have divorced or been laid off in the past year or so and have done nothing but drink their money away.
"Thanks Chuck, I could use it after the day I've had." You say as you pat his shoulder and grip the mug. You down the liquor in two gulps as everyone stares impressed.
"Visit the cemetery again, old friend?" Charles is someone you've known for nearly two centuries. He's not a blood sucker, like you, just incredibly unlucky. Although, some would say it is luck. He's not necessarily immortal, just non-aging. So long as he stays on whatever benevolent being exists good side, that is.
"Yes, I'm afraid so." You lower your voice and lean in, "it's the 322nd anniversary of Gertrude's... Day. And the twentieth of Delilah's day." you explain as Charles hands you the bottle this time.
"I understand that. It's been about 242 years since I lost Kenzie." He replies.
"Ah, yes, I remember her. I'll never get what you saw in her, but I have always cared more for face than anything. On an equally dark, but slightly different topic. I think I finally found Peter Gilsby's grave."
"Good gracious, we haven't seen him since before Lincoln. It's a shame the last either of us saw him was on opposing sides of a musket. We had such great memories with him." Charles recalls somberly and takes a drink from the bottle he handed you.
Before you take it back, you notice a red-headed woman occasionally taking glances at you, as if too obviously trying to hide that she's listening to your conversation.
"Well, hello deary. I'm Samuel Ground, who might you be?" You ask in the London accent you haven't lost since the ship to the States. "Have we said something that bothers you?"
She turns to you to reply and you see the age in and around her sparkling green eyes. She's not wearing anything fancy or trying to catch anyone's attention, just loose black jeans and a modest black v-neck t-shirt with a sky blue cardigan pulled over it. "Yes... And no. When you walked in, I was wondering who would be going by such an unrecognized angelic name. I didn't realize I would have the privilege of meeting an angel on Earth." She adds, "sorry, I nearly forgot. My name is Ellena. You said your name is Samuel, but the bartender very clearly boasted 'Samael' when you walked in." She holds out her hand for you to shake.
"Samael is a privilege you've earned when you've known me as long as he has, and I assure you very few people on this planet every will." You say as you take her hand and kiss the knuckle without thinking. "Also, I am far from being an angel. I'm afraid I will never reach heaven nor hell... But that's a story for another day. Might I treat you to a drink?"
- please add to this in the replies below -
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[WP] Everyone is born with a mark. Some share the mark with their soulmate, others with their mortal enemy. Good luck figuring out which is which.
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Ruby was covered in wounds. Scars that would never heal right, and burns that would never truly leave her body. Despite it all, she could admire herself in the mirror, as she stared at her mark. Life had been a cruel mistress that never loved her, but despite it all, she had applied for mark location. They had found a woman with the same mark as her, and the two were going to meet at a neutral location. Ruby's mark was a serpent that wrapped around her right wrist and forearm. Ruby slipped a sweater over it all.
---
The woman they'd found was named Christine, her hair was a nice brown and her eyes had this soft quality to them. Her hair was placed in a slightly loose bun, with som stands of hair framing her heart-like face. She was a bit chubby, but her pastel clothes made her look like a cute little cupcake. Which was funny, as the two were sitting together in a bakery.
"I'm not feeling any hatred to you." Christine smiled. "I guess that means we're soulmates!"
Ruby smiled to herself, she was far too old for crushes, yet she had one anyway. "I guess we are."
---
Ruby sat with her wife, her son was on his stomach, colouring in a drawing he had made. Christine snuggled closer into Ruby's loving arms. The scientific community had actually found a concrete way to tell whether someone was your soulmate or soulhate. The tests had come in for the two. They were soulhates. Did they care?
Hell no.
They weren't going to let a glorified birthmark control how they felt for each other.
---
I originally was going to have two soulmates hide their marks, learn they were soulmates long after they began thinking they were soulhates, because one would bully the other, and I wanted to end bittersweet with them ignoring each other. I don't know, I liked this idea better though. Happy lesbians. :)
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I am walking alone through the park to get to school. It is pretty hot out, which doesn’t help my headache. I rub the mark in the center of my forehead. My mark is of an orange tree. I have never met anyone else with an orange tree mark. My mother says that this is a blessing. I don’t know. I have heard stories of what happens when someone meets the one other person in the world who has the same mark as them. As soon as they see each other, an almost magnetic force draws their heads together to where the identical marks on their foreheads touch. After that, they remain together for the rest of their lives; once their marks have joined once, they have to touch every day for the two people to survive. For some people, this is not a problem; the person who shares their mark is the love of their life. For others, though, meeting their mark partner brings death into their lives.
As my orange tree throbs, I wonder which fate will be mine. I don’t expect to meet anyone before I graduate, though; our schools require mark screenings before anyone can enroll. As one might guess, this is to avoid any unfortunate circumstances. I wouldn’t exactly call my current situation fortunate, though. Since the schools are all limited in size, it can be easy to be excluded by the other students for any dumb reason. My lack of decent social skills doesn’t help much, either. I am lonely. I don’t know how much more I can take. I would rather just meet my mark partner and get it over with. Love would be ideal, but even death sounds better than loneliness.
I stop walking and close my eyes for a second to try and clear my head. When I open them, I see another pair of shoes on the ground in front of my own. My eyes move upward. They meet an orange-brown pair of eyes. They flash to the person’s forehead. I see an orange tree identical to mine. My head meets the person’s head. Then, I see nothing. This is it, I think. I hope I fall in love.
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[WP] Everyone is born with a mark. Some share the mark with their soulmate, others with their mortal enemy. Good luck figuring out which is which.
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He was stupid. Donovan hadn’t paid any attention to wear he was pushing the fight to, just that he was finally winning against Aiden. Twelve months ago they’d passed each other, Glaring because Mitchell’s and Tanners did not pass each other without glaring, when they both yelled out, both grabbed their right arms in pain. Then Donovan realized in horror they had matching marks.
Donny wasn’t stupid, he had hoped his mark would show him his soulmate but life had never been nice to him before so he knew to expect its show him his enemy. But how cruel was it to make “Donny the fuck up’s” archenemy the perfect Tanner heir. Donovan knee immediately what he had to do.
The Mitchell’s and Tanner’s had lived on this planet for centuries, each building a family run gem empire deep in the mountains. Most of the Federation didn’t even know they existed, or how much money they made, and that’s how they liked it. Centuries ago some great offense was done by one family to another, something no longer remembered, resulting in centuries of death between the two families. Every Mitchell had lost someone close to a Tanner and vice versa.
So Donovan took a swing. He knew he wasn’t walking out of this alive but damn if he was going down without scratching pretty boys face. Aiden had black hair, green eyes, and skin that looked as if it had never seen the sun. Donovan was going to leave a mark on that face so everyone would remember him. So Aiden would never forget.
Aiden knocked him out in less than a second. Donovan didn’t even touch him. And so it went for twelve months. Donovan would attack Aiden, each time getting further than before, and Aiden would knock him out before leaving Donny to wake up somewhere in the forest.
But today Aiden was off his game, today Donovan was succeeding! For once his family would be proud of him, he’d take down the great heir, then take him home to be used as a bargaining chip for better land. Finally!
Donovan kicked, forcing Aiden to stumble back, winded. Donovan rushes forward to knock him out. And then they’re falling.
Donovan remembers the old well he had pushed Aiden on, just as he feels arms grab him. Aiden flips Donovan on top of him as they hit the rock floor.
Crack.
The sound made Donovan want to vomit.
“Ahhhh!” Aiden wailed.
Donny scrambles up to see Aiden, who was below him, with a twisted leg.
“Why’d you do that?!”
“Dunno. Might not have been a good idea.”
It had been a couple of hours. Donovan has made a makeshift tourniquet for Aiden after he passed out from his shoulder being relocated.
Donovan never stopped to ask why he was helping, just that he knew how to help, so he did. It was only after Donovan had explored the cave the old well had collapsed into only to discover a spring of fresh water at the end of the only possible exit.
“Now I get to die slower.” He had grumbled, before bringing wet rags back to Aiden. Now he was cleaning Aiden’s cuts before getting pissed off thinking about how it happened.
6hrs in:
“So you never learned how to climb?” Aiden voice asked weakly from the makeshift rock bed Donovan had put him on. Donovan had just finished falling off the rock wall of the well for the fourth time.
“Shut up!”
Donovan began climbing again.
“It’s not your fault. I don’t think anyone could climb those.” Aiden said quietly to Donovan’s turned back.
“My sister could. She got to crystals no one else had gotten to in centuries. That’s why everyone is happy she was born before me. A proper heir.” Donovan was tired, his spirit broken. “My Da wanted me to be in the running. They start the kids on those little hills climbing, but Da decided I was gunna be a winner. So he took me up to a good cliff, one you couldn’t see the bottom. Said unless I climbed down I couldn’t come home. I tried to walk home. Da found me, dragged me back, then stood there with a shotgun, told me he’s either coming home with a proper Mitchell or no son at all.
“So I climb down, little by little. Start getting to the tree tops, then the branches are there. I’m getting excited, I’m so close to home. Then a rock breaks. Fell fifteen feet, would’ve fallen more but a tree caught me. By impaling me, that is. Da went home, figures I was either going to come home or not. But Ma and sissy, they got real pissed. Got a search party going. And my sissy, only thirteen something climbs a 30ft tree, and carries my broken body home. Docs fixed everything, but every time I start getting high all I can think about is being in that tree, bleeding out. I can’t climb out. I’m sorry I just. I just can’t. I killed us.” Donovan breaks down, crying to himself to sleep, unsure if he is imagining a warm calming hand rubbing his back.
2 days
The hunger hurt the most the first day, but now it faded to the background. Donovan was washing what rags they had, since they’d have to use them all.
“I never hated you.”
They’d been making small talk, slowly getting to know each other, but no real talks since the first night Donovan broke down. Donovan froze when he heard Aidens voice.
“When I got the mark, I looked at you and knew you weren’t my enemy.” Aiden continued.
“Shut up.”
“You hate your enemies when their revealed to you, at least that’s what the cousins I know say.”
“Aiden, seriously, shut. Up.”
“Donovan, please.”
“Do you know what that means for me?! If your not your enemy? I’d be the biggest fuck up to exist in the family, I’d be the one with a Tanner soulmate! I’d never be welcome home!”
“Maybe, it’s okay to not go home. I’m tired of this... this hating... for things we don’t remember.”
“You don’t fucking get it! You were perfect from the beginning, your everything your family could want, you get to fucking choose to be an outcast! I’m the Mitchell that cant climb, that the family has to hire because he gets fired from everything else. They don’t expect nothing from me. I never got to choose.”
2 days 5hrs
“If we get out, tell them you killed me.”
“Stop it Aiden.”
“Think about you, your family will welcome you with open arms, and I’ll be free.”
“Oh poor Aiden, how hard life must be, being given everything you could ever want, being born perfect with a family that adores each fucking sneeze.”
“It’s not that easy! I had to fight to heir just like your sister, I beat myself bloody reaching to become everything that was ever wanted of me and you know what I found when I got there? Nothing. Nothing but a expectation to continue this stupid bloody feud to make up for the most recent losses and I’m tired!” Aiden broke off coughing, Donovan brought over the bowl he’d weaved from pieces of bark. Aiden took a sip. “Look at all these skills you have from being a ‘fuck up’. I’d have died down here without you. But if you want to know the most recent jewel prices.” He broke off cough laughing. “I just. I don’t want to die hating. I don’t want to die furthering that hatred. I don’t... I don’t want to die.” And for the first time in years, Aiden cried. And Donovan laid down beside him, and held him close.
2days 12hrs
“Screw it.” Donovan rasped. He was getting much weaker by the hour. They were short on time, but he refused to think about it. Aiden laid beside him, his head resting in the crook of Donovan’s arm.
“Hmm?”
“When we get out of here, let’s just go. Take whatever money we can and just go. I’m done trying to impress this family, let’s find something else. Let’s get...” he rasped a laugh, “let’s get stupid boring office jobs. Let’s become nobodies in a city. Let’s get a little” another raspy laugh “a stupid little happy dog and live a stupid boring life.”
Aiden laughed weakly.
“Yeah. Agreed.”
2days 13hrs
“I told you we needed to check here! Donny! Can you hear me?!”
Donovan woke up to his sisters worried face.
“I got the medkit ready, I’m going to start working on Aiden.”
“Is that... Theresa Tanner?” Donovan asked.
“The old folk were so busy arguing whose fault it was y’all had gone missing, nobody was actually looking. So Theresa and a few other of the newer generation Tanners got together with me and the younger Mitchell’s to go lookin for ya. Pretty damn certain they’re still gunna be fighting when we come back with ya.” Donovan accepted some water from her canteen.
Donovan heart burst with relief when he heard Aiden laugh. He was worried Aiden had been too still.
“Maybe we can stick around a moment longer.” Aiden whispered. Donovan held Aiden’s hand tighter.
|
I am walking alone through the park to get to school. It is pretty hot out, which doesn’t help my headache. I rub the mark in the center of my forehead. My mark is of an orange tree. I have never met anyone else with an orange tree mark. My mother says that this is a blessing. I don’t know. I have heard stories of what happens when someone meets the one other person in the world who has the same mark as them. As soon as they see each other, an almost magnetic force draws their heads together to where the identical marks on their foreheads touch. After that, they remain together for the rest of their lives; once their marks have joined once, they have to touch every day for the two people to survive. For some people, this is not a problem; the person who shares their mark is the love of their life. For others, though, meeting their mark partner brings death into their lives.
As my orange tree throbs, I wonder which fate will be mine. I don’t expect to meet anyone before I graduate, though; our schools require mark screenings before anyone can enroll. As one might guess, this is to avoid any unfortunate circumstances. I wouldn’t exactly call my current situation fortunate, though. Since the schools are all limited in size, it can be easy to be excluded by the other students for any dumb reason. My lack of decent social skills doesn’t help much, either. I am lonely. I don’t know how much more I can take. I would rather just meet my mark partner and get it over with. Love would be ideal, but even death sounds better than loneliness.
I stop walking and close my eyes for a second to try and clear my head. When I open them, I see another pair of shoes on the ground in front of my own. My eyes move upward. They meet an orange-brown pair of eyes. They flash to the person’s forehead. I see an orange tree identical to mine. My head meets the person’s head. Then, I see nothing. This is it, I think. I hope I fall in love.
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[WP] Everyone is born with a mark. Some share the mark with their soulmate, others with their mortal enemy. Good luck figuring out which is which.
|
He was stupid. Donovan hadn’t paid any attention to wear he was pushing the fight to, just that he was finally winning against Aiden. Twelve months ago they’d passed each other, Glaring because Mitchell’s and Tanners did not pass each other without glaring, when they both yelled out, both grabbed their right arms in pain. Then Donovan realized in horror they had matching marks.
Donny wasn’t stupid, he had hoped his mark would show him his soulmate but life had never been nice to him before so he knew to expect its show him his enemy. But how cruel was it to make “Donny the fuck up’s” archenemy the perfect Tanner heir. Donovan knee immediately what he had to do.
The Mitchell’s and Tanner’s had lived on this planet for centuries, each building a family run gem empire deep in the mountains. Most of the Federation didn’t even know they existed, or how much money they made, and that’s how they liked it. Centuries ago some great offense was done by one family to another, something no longer remembered, resulting in centuries of death between the two families. Every Mitchell had lost someone close to a Tanner and vice versa.
So Donovan took a swing. He knew he wasn’t walking out of this alive but damn if he was going down without scratching pretty boys face. Aiden had black hair, green eyes, and skin that looked as if it had never seen the sun. Donovan was going to leave a mark on that face so everyone would remember him. So Aiden would never forget.
Aiden knocked him out in less than a second. Donovan didn’t even touch him. And so it went for twelve months. Donovan would attack Aiden, each time getting further than before, and Aiden would knock him out before leaving Donny to wake up somewhere in the forest.
But today Aiden was off his game, today Donovan was succeeding! For once his family would be proud of him, he’d take down the great heir, then take him home to be used as a bargaining chip for better land. Finally!
Donovan kicked, forcing Aiden to stumble back, winded. Donovan rushes forward to knock him out. And then they’re falling.
Donovan remembers the old well he had pushed Aiden on, just as he feels arms grab him. Aiden flips Donovan on top of him as they hit the rock floor.
Crack.
The sound made Donovan want to vomit.
“Ahhhh!” Aiden wailed.
Donny scrambles up to see Aiden, who was below him, with a twisted leg.
“Why’d you do that?!”
“Dunno. Might not have been a good idea.”
It had been a couple of hours. Donovan has made a makeshift tourniquet for Aiden after he passed out from his shoulder being relocated.
Donovan never stopped to ask why he was helping, just that he knew how to help, so he did. It was only after Donovan had explored the cave the old well had collapsed into only to discover a spring of fresh water at the end of the only possible exit.
“Now I get to die slower.” He had grumbled, before bringing wet rags back to Aiden. Now he was cleaning Aiden’s cuts before getting pissed off thinking about how it happened.
6hrs in:
“So you never learned how to climb?” Aiden voice asked weakly from the makeshift rock bed Donovan had put him on. Donovan had just finished falling off the rock wall of the well for the fourth time.
“Shut up!”
Donovan began climbing again.
“It’s not your fault. I don’t think anyone could climb those.” Aiden said quietly to Donovan’s turned back.
“My sister could. She got to crystals no one else had gotten to in centuries. That’s why everyone is happy she was born before me. A proper heir.” Donovan was tired, his spirit broken. “My Da wanted me to be in the running. They start the kids on those little hills climbing, but Da decided I was gunna be a winner. So he took me up to a good cliff, one you couldn’t see the bottom. Said unless I climbed down I couldn’t come home. I tried to walk home. Da found me, dragged me back, then stood there with a shotgun, told me he’s either coming home with a proper Mitchell or no son at all.
“So I climb down, little by little. Start getting to the tree tops, then the branches are there. I’m getting excited, I’m so close to home. Then a rock breaks. Fell fifteen feet, would’ve fallen more but a tree caught me. By impaling me, that is. Da went home, figures I was either going to come home or not. But Ma and sissy, they got real pissed. Got a search party going. And my sissy, only thirteen something climbs a 30ft tree, and carries my broken body home. Docs fixed everything, but every time I start getting high all I can think about is being in that tree, bleeding out. I can’t climb out. I’m sorry I just. I just can’t. I killed us.” Donovan breaks down, crying to himself to sleep, unsure if he is imagining a warm calming hand rubbing his back.
2 days
The hunger hurt the most the first day, but now it faded to the background. Donovan was washing what rags they had, since they’d have to use them all.
“I never hated you.”
They’d been making small talk, slowly getting to know each other, but no real talks since the first night Donovan broke down. Donovan froze when he heard Aidens voice.
“When I got the mark, I looked at you and knew you weren’t my enemy.” Aiden continued.
“Shut up.”
“You hate your enemies when their revealed to you, at least that’s what the cousins I know say.”
“Aiden, seriously, shut. Up.”
“Donovan, please.”
“Do you know what that means for me?! If your not your enemy? I’d be the biggest fuck up to exist in the family, I’d be the one with a Tanner soulmate! I’d never be welcome home!”
“Maybe, it’s okay to not go home. I’m tired of this... this hating... for things we don’t remember.”
“You don’t fucking get it! You were perfect from the beginning, your everything your family could want, you get to fucking choose to be an outcast! I’m the Mitchell that cant climb, that the family has to hire because he gets fired from everything else. They don’t expect nothing from me. I never got to choose.”
2 days 5hrs
“If we get out, tell them you killed me.”
“Stop it Aiden.”
“Think about you, your family will welcome you with open arms, and I’ll be free.”
“Oh poor Aiden, how hard life must be, being given everything you could ever want, being born perfect with a family that adores each fucking sneeze.”
“It’s not that easy! I had to fight to heir just like your sister, I beat myself bloody reaching to become everything that was ever wanted of me and you know what I found when I got there? Nothing. Nothing but a expectation to continue this stupid bloody feud to make up for the most recent losses and I’m tired!” Aiden broke off coughing, Donovan brought over the bowl he’d weaved from pieces of bark. Aiden took a sip. “Look at all these skills you have from being a ‘fuck up’. I’d have died down here without you. But if you want to know the most recent jewel prices.” He broke off cough laughing. “I just. I don’t want to die hating. I don’t want to die furthering that hatred. I don’t... I don’t want to die.” And for the first time in years, Aiden cried. And Donovan laid down beside him, and held him close.
2days 12hrs
“Screw it.” Donovan rasped. He was getting much weaker by the hour. They were short on time, but he refused to think about it. Aiden laid beside him, his head resting in the crook of Donovan’s arm.
“Hmm?”
“When we get out of here, let’s just go. Take whatever money we can and just go. I’m done trying to impress this family, let’s find something else. Let’s get...” he rasped a laugh, “let’s get stupid boring office jobs. Let’s become nobodies in a city. Let’s get a little” another raspy laugh “a stupid little happy dog and live a stupid boring life.”
Aiden laughed weakly.
“Yeah. Agreed.”
2days 13hrs
“I told you we needed to check here! Donny! Can you hear me?!”
Donovan woke up to his sisters worried face.
“I got the medkit ready, I’m going to start working on Aiden.”
“Is that... Theresa Tanner?” Donovan asked.
“The old folk were so busy arguing whose fault it was y’all had gone missing, nobody was actually looking. So Theresa and a few other of the newer generation Tanners got together with me and the younger Mitchell’s to go lookin for ya. Pretty damn certain they’re still gunna be fighting when we come back with ya.” Donovan accepted some water from her canteen.
Donovan heart burst with relief when he heard Aiden laugh. He was worried Aiden had been too still.
“Maybe we can stick around a moment longer.” Aiden whispered. Donovan held Aiden’s hand tighter.
|
Half the city floats in love, the other half sinks in desperation. A bead of sweat salted my mouth. My two pointer-fingers flew across the keyboard in a rehearsed dance. My personal information filled the screen: Name, Birthday, Social Security, Government Id.
My little brother tugged on my arm, “Come on, I want to see your soulmate, so bad.”
I rubbed his dirty brown curls, “It might not be my love,” then in my best Liam Neeson impersonation, I growled, “It could be my enemy.” We both laughed, “It might not be anyone, not everyone puts their names into Ultimate Connection.”
My brother giggled, “Come on, I just wanna seeee. I have to wait 10...more...years. Ugh.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “What if she’s a movie star or a princess.”
“It won’t be.”
I turned back to the computer and filled out the rest of the forms in silence. Just as I thought I had finished, “Select Payment Option” flashed into view. I groaned.
I gave my brother a quick shove, “Get mom.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I spun in my chair. Five spins later, my mom walked in behind my brother.
My brother beamed while waving his hands at her. “Here she is,” he said.
Instead of smiling, she fiddled with her hair, looked around the room nervously, and pulled at her sleeves. She glanced at me, “Are you sure, you want to do this. There’s no harm in waiting.”
I looked at her for a moment, then back at my computer screen, “It’s not gonna be like that.”
“But what if it is. Your father, Jeremy almost killed me.” She held back a sob, “I thought he was the one. Now look at us, you don’t have a father.”
My eyes burned.”He’s dead. At least you know. What if--”
“What if your *soul-mate* kills you?” she whimpered.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
“What if you *future lover* beats you?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
For a second, I tried to look at her. Her desperation had turned to resolution.
She said, “Your not using my money.”
She stood there for a second waiting for me to reply. I didn’t. She made a sound as if trying to speak through a cloth gag. When nothing came out she left.
My brother walked over to me, “So how are you gonna get the money.”
“Not today,” I said.
“Come on,” he started.
“No,” I finished.
Before he could leave I said, “Maybe tomorrow.”
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[WP] Everyone is born with a mark. Some share the mark with their soulmate, others with their mortal enemy. Good luck figuring out which is which.
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Some of us bare our right wrists, some cover it, glancing furtively at the hands of everyone else. It was dangerous to Show, but more thrilling than to Hide. Hiders didn't understand what it was like to walk by a stranger in the store, the two of you circling, trying not to make obvious that you're looking, but you both know. It's so terrifying when it's CLOSE, you know what I mean, the Mark is so similar but not quite. What a rush!
It was easier with the opposite sex, of course. While there were countless tales of clashes between different sexes, Showing was my real opportunity to find her. Or him, of course, because the Mark was never wrong when it matched. Some of us just take longer to realize we can love someone no matter what.
In a world of over a billion people, you'd think the odds are against you. The Mark is localized, somehow, and the odds are reduced to around 1 in 2,000. Scientists tell us that it doesn't seem to care about race, or looks, or beliefs, or even age, sometimes. It just matches you with the most incredibly perfect person you've ever met. Hopefully.
My best friend matched in 1st grade with his Mark - they were both running for a ball at recess, and grabbed it with their right hands. As they touched it their marks pressed together, the mirror images forming a perfect whole. We all realized what had happened and watched for a fight, but they simply embraced, crying. We did, too. It was amazing. I think we celebrated for at least a week.
They were allowed to attend every class together throughout school, as it was torture for them to be apart. They would take turns sleeping over at each other's house, and their parents were thrilled. Imagine knowing your whole life! I was so jealous. Some people didn't match until their 30s or 40s. Some never.
I had heard about the opposite, too. Two kids in a neighboring town had matched, instantly attacking each other in a frenzied fight that ended in a gouged eyeball and flesh bitten out. As the rules are, they were separated, and one was sent to live across the country. They would be allowed to meet in the future when they had matured, to Settle. They could both elect not to meet, but that was rare. One would always want to end it, and that obligation had to be fulfilled.
Those were the easy types of matches. Mine wasn't one. Only about 4% of matches are Unset, so with my luck, of course, I was one.
I was at the library, which is weird because I'm never there. Maybe that's why I finally found her. She had lived only about 15 miles away her whole life. I had to get a book for school, I still don't remember which one, and went to check it out.
She was volunteering there, her brown hair draped over her glasses as she opened the book to scan the bar code. She looked up and our eyes met. "I... I need your card," she said quietly, as you probably should in a library. I reached into my pocket and handed it to her, right wrist forward as Shows do. Her eyes slid over my wrist, that reflex action we all have, not expecting anything more than any other day.
She stopped moving, her mouth held slightly open. Her hands shook and I immediately knew why. I glanced at her Mark-place, covered by the half glove-covering of the Hiders. The hair stood up on my arm and everything else stopped. "Show me," I whispered. She had no choice, of course. The rules.
She stood and peeled back the cover. I stared at the perfect reverse Mark of mine. 'The feathered bird,' I said. She brought her wrist next to mine, to make sure. There was no need. 'The feathered bird,' she replied.
She looked up at me without expression. Our eyes together, waiting for the inevitable sense of love or hate.
The clock ticked loudly, and we waited still. The librarian walked by, asking what was taking so long, until she saw, her eyes widened and she pattered off, waving her hands wildly to the other patrons without speaking. Somehow the library became even quieter, and I knew they were watching, but we were waiting.
She looked down, confused. She pressed her Mark to mine, as if contact would resolve everything. It didn't.
"Unset," I said. She nodded.
"UNSET!" the librarian yelled, and everyone started talking at once. She started to cry, and I realized my cheeks were wet, too. The disappointment was suffocating. We just stood there, staring blankly down at our matched Marks.
"Emily, let me call your parents," the old lady said.
"No," she said. Emily said. Emily. Emily. I repeated her name over and over in my head. Nothing.
She took my hand and we walked to the door, and outside. "What's your name?" she asked. "Michael," I said.
"I love you, Michael," she said. She paused. "I hate you, Michael." She shook her head. "Dammit."
&#x200B;
We were married when we turned 20. Rules. The Mark is never wrong. We have 2 kids now, one with a gorgeous Mark of swirls and diamonds, the other with one of blades and fire. I hope they find their loves early. Emily and I are happy, I guess, mostly. I don't know. She's a good person, so I should be.
I still look, when I'm out. My Mark is covered, of course, by the Taken Band, but I know what Emily's looks like, and I hope to see another one just like it. I don't think I will.
&#x200B;
|
Half the city floats in love, the other half sinks in desperation. A bead of sweat salted my mouth. My two pointer-fingers flew across the keyboard in a rehearsed dance. My personal information filled the screen: Name, Birthday, Social Security, Government Id.
My little brother tugged on my arm, “Come on, I want to see your soulmate, so bad.”
I rubbed his dirty brown curls, “It might not be my love,” then in my best Liam Neeson impersonation, I growled, “It could be my enemy.” We both laughed, “It might not be anyone, not everyone puts their names into Ultimate Connection.”
My brother giggled, “Come on, I just wanna seeee. I have to wait 10...more...years. Ugh.” He threw his hands up in exasperation. “What if she’s a movie star or a princess.”
“It won’t be.”
I turned back to the computer and filled out the rest of the forms in silence. Just as I thought I had finished, “Select Payment Option” flashed into view. I groaned.
I gave my brother a quick shove, “Get mom.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I spun in my chair. Five spins later, my mom walked in behind my brother.
My brother beamed while waving his hands at her. “Here she is,” he said.
Instead of smiling, she fiddled with her hair, looked around the room nervously, and pulled at her sleeves. She glanced at me, “Are you sure, you want to do this. There’s no harm in waiting.”
I looked at her for a moment, then back at my computer screen, “It’s not gonna be like that.”
“But what if it is. Your father, Jeremy almost killed me.” She held back a sob, “I thought he was the one. Now look at us, you don’t have a father.”
My eyes burned.”He’s dead. At least you know. What if--”
“What if your *soul-mate* kills you?” she whimpered.
I felt a tear roll down my cheek.
“What if you *future lover* beats you?”
“I’m sorry, Mom.”
For a second, I tried to look at her. Her desperation had turned to resolution.
She said, “Your not using my money.”
She stood there for a second waiting for me to reply. I didn’t. She made a sound as if trying to speak through a cloth gag. When nothing came out she left.
My brother walked over to me, “So how are you gonna get the money.”
“Not today,” I said.
“Come on,” he started.
“No,” I finished.
Before he could leave I said, “Maybe tomorrow.”
|
|
[WP] Everyone is born with a mark. Some share the mark with their soulmate, others with their mortal enemy. Good luck figuring out which is which.
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Some of us bare our right wrists, some cover it, glancing furtively at the hands of everyone else. It was dangerous to Show, but more thrilling than to Hide. Hiders didn't understand what it was like to walk by a stranger in the store, the two of you circling, trying not to make obvious that you're looking, but you both know. It's so terrifying when it's CLOSE, you know what I mean, the Mark is so similar but not quite. What a rush!
It was easier with the opposite sex, of course. While there were countless tales of clashes between different sexes, Showing was my real opportunity to find her. Or him, of course, because the Mark was never wrong when it matched. Some of us just take longer to realize we can love someone no matter what.
In a world of over a billion people, you'd think the odds are against you. The Mark is localized, somehow, and the odds are reduced to around 1 in 2,000. Scientists tell us that it doesn't seem to care about race, or looks, or beliefs, or even age, sometimes. It just matches you with the most incredibly perfect person you've ever met. Hopefully.
My best friend matched in 1st grade with his Mark - they were both running for a ball at recess, and grabbed it with their right hands. As they touched it their marks pressed together, the mirror images forming a perfect whole. We all realized what had happened and watched for a fight, but they simply embraced, crying. We did, too. It was amazing. I think we celebrated for at least a week.
They were allowed to attend every class together throughout school, as it was torture for them to be apart. They would take turns sleeping over at each other's house, and their parents were thrilled. Imagine knowing your whole life! I was so jealous. Some people didn't match until their 30s or 40s. Some never.
I had heard about the opposite, too. Two kids in a neighboring town had matched, instantly attacking each other in a frenzied fight that ended in a gouged eyeball and flesh bitten out. As the rules are, they were separated, and one was sent to live across the country. They would be allowed to meet in the future when they had matured, to Settle. They could both elect not to meet, but that was rare. One would always want to end it, and that obligation had to be fulfilled.
Those were the easy types of matches. Mine wasn't one. Only about 4% of matches are Unset, so with my luck, of course, I was one.
I was at the library, which is weird because I'm never there. Maybe that's why I finally found her. She had lived only about 15 miles away her whole life. I had to get a book for school, I still don't remember which one, and went to check it out.
She was volunteering there, her brown hair draped over her glasses as she opened the book to scan the bar code. She looked up and our eyes met. "I... I need your card," she said quietly, as you probably should in a library. I reached into my pocket and handed it to her, right wrist forward as Shows do. Her eyes slid over my wrist, that reflex action we all have, not expecting anything more than any other day.
She stopped moving, her mouth held slightly open. Her hands shook and I immediately knew why. I glanced at her Mark-place, covered by the half glove-covering of the Hiders. The hair stood up on my arm and everything else stopped. "Show me," I whispered. She had no choice, of course. The rules.
She stood and peeled back the cover. I stared at the perfect reverse Mark of mine. 'The feathered bird,' I said. She brought her wrist next to mine, to make sure. There was no need. 'The feathered bird,' she replied.
She looked up at me without expression. Our eyes together, waiting for the inevitable sense of love or hate.
The clock ticked loudly, and we waited still. The librarian walked by, asking what was taking so long, until she saw, her eyes widened and she pattered off, waving her hands wildly to the other patrons without speaking. Somehow the library became even quieter, and I knew they were watching, but we were waiting.
She looked down, confused. She pressed her Mark to mine, as if contact would resolve everything. It didn't.
"Unset," I said. She nodded.
"UNSET!" the librarian yelled, and everyone started talking at once. She started to cry, and I realized my cheeks were wet, too. The disappointment was suffocating. We just stood there, staring blankly down at our matched Marks.
"Emily, let me call your parents," the old lady said.
"No," she said. Emily said. Emily. Emily. I repeated her name over and over in my head. Nothing.
She took my hand and we walked to the door, and outside. "What's your name?" she asked. "Michael," I said.
"I love you, Michael," she said. She paused. "I hate you, Michael." She shook her head. "Dammit."
&#x200B;
We were married when we turned 20. Rules. The Mark is never wrong. We have 2 kids now, one with a gorgeous Mark of swirls and diamonds, the other with one of blades and fire. I hope they find their loves early. Emily and I are happy, I guess, mostly. I don't know. She's a good person, so I should be.
I still look, when I'm out. My Mark is covered, of course, by the Taken Band, but I know what Emily's looks like, and I hope to see another one just like it. I don't think I will.
&#x200B;
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My best friend, Carlos, nudged me as the kids from the other classroom came into the room. "See that one in the blue shirt? The blonde one?" he whispered. "That's the new girl. Isn't she hot?"
"I guess." I shrugged, playing it cool.
"You think she's single?" He pondered out-loud.
"Uhhh, I guess? That would be pretty weird if she did."
He looked at me. "Weird? Why?"
"I mean, you said she's the new girl. How would she got a boyfriend in one day."
"Uhm, because she's h-o-t. Hot."
"Like your breath," I joked, covering my nose with my shirt.
He punched me in the arm and turned to a group of girls that had taken seats nearby. "Hey ladies..."
They uttered a collective sigh and responded:
"Ugh!"
"Leave us alone, Carlos!"
"C'mon, let's go find somewhere else to sit."
They got up together and moved.
Carlos turned to me and grinned. "They totally dig me."
I facepalmed.
Today was field trip day, but some parents still made their kids come to school even if their kid wasnt going on a field trip. So the teachers gathered all the students in one big classroom, lowered this huge projector in front of the room, and we just sat there and watched movies for the entire day.
I'm sure kids would've played hooky if they could, but our school was just too far up in the mountains, and too surrounded by the woods where there definitely was bears in.
Ms. Donahue stood in front of the room and held up two DVD cases.
Everyone quieted down.
"What does everyone want to watch?" she asked. "Polar Express or The Grinch Who Stole Christmas?"
Everyone began to boo.
One kid in the front row said, "It's not even winter!'
"Either pick one, or I'm picking one for you," she snapped.
"Polar Express!" one side said. "The Grinch!" said the other.
She said. "Okay, we're doing votes. Raise your hands if you want to watch Polar Exp-"
Nearly all the hands shot up.
"-ress it is then," she said.
Everyone immediately ignored the movie as it started playing and turned to their friends to talk.
Carlos whispered, "Psst! Hey! Look, who's sitting near us..."
I looked. It was the new girl. She had walked in with a group of girls, but it looked like all those girls were cuddled up with their boyfriends now, and so now she was sitting alone. The seat next to her empty.
"I'm going to do it..."
I snapped my head towards Carlos. "What?"
"I'm going to do it. I'm going to sit by her and tell her she looks pretty."
"Oh. Go for it, bro."
I wouldnt say I was jealous, but for some reason it bothered me to think about Carlos - or anyone other than me, for that matter - sitting in that seat and talking to her.
But that was my friend, so I tried to ignore it and focus on the movie as he slid over.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched him say something to her - probably, "Hey, I'm Carlos. You're pretty. Wanna be my girlfriend? Oh wait, I don't even know your name... Okay, so tell me your name *first* and *then* tell me if you want to be my girlfriend or not. But, actually, I dont know why that has to be the order. It's not like you're going to have a name that so hideous that it makes me just say, 'Nope, I dont want you to be my girlfriend'. So, it's up to you really. Also-"
I stopped myself when I realized I was legit having an imaginary monologue of Carlos' voice in my head.
Still, focusing on them, I saw her smile, say something back, shake her head, and then say some more things.
He smiled and slid back over.
"So?" I pressed.
"She said she thinks I'm handsome." He beamed with pride. "But that she's just not ready for a boyfriend yet and that school comes first. So I told her I'd wait for her, and she said that was very kind of me but that she was going to be in school a *looong* time because she's going into medicine and that she would feel terrible if she stopped the rest of the ladies in the world from experiencing the love of the Carl-master."
"The Carl...?"
"Yeah, that's me," he bragged. "Lady Maestro, Lover Extraordinaire."
"O...kaaaay? Well, I've never heard that one before."
"Anyway," he continued, "I agreed with her. And I told her if she would like to meet a friend, and she said sure."
"Which friend?"
He blank-stared me. "Really, dude..."
I glanced over. She was focused on the movie, not even looking at us.
I looked back at Carlos and told him, "Yeah, no. She looks like she's enjoying the movie. Some other time, maybe."
Carlos leaned in and whispered, "I think you should look at her mark."
"What? Why? What's wrong with it?" I asked, but he crossed his arms smugly and refused to speak.
I went back to watching the movie. But the whole time my mind was running. *What was Carlos hinting at? Does she have the same mark as me? Is it possible she's my soulmate? Or maybe...my mortal enemy?"
I glanced over at her again.
Halfway through the movie, the movie stopped and the lights came back on.
"Okay!" The teachers shouted. "Time for lunch! Line up!"
As we all stood, Carlos gave me the '*go-for-it* look and I subtly stepped back beside her.
"Hey."
She looked at me and smiled openly. "Hey. You...must be the friend Carlos was talking about?"
"I'm John."
"Sally."
We shook hands. Her cuffs slid back a little, enough to show her mark.
She laughed. "Wow. Let me guess, you're my soulmate?"
"Or your mortal enemy," I replied.
She looked me up and down. "Nah," she teased. "You dont look like a threat."
"Those are the ones you should fear most."
It was amazing how easy it was to talk to her. The chemistry was incredible. I didnt have to think about what to say or how to say it. I didnt care how I looked, if I seemed cool or not. I just felt completely comfortable, and the words were just coming out of me naturally and casually.
"I'm jealous," Carlos said, looking at the both of us as we all sat down at our lunch table.
"Dont worry, you'll find her one day." I smiled. "Or *him*."
He pointed at me. "I'm not going to smack you because I know you're trying to impress your girl right now, but say it one more time and see what happens."
I held up my hands in surrender and laughed.
Honestly, I felt for him. As girl crazy as Carlos was, it must have been painful to see his quiet, introverted best friend get a girlfriend before him. It must have been worse knowing that there was a girl out there- perfect for him in every way - but not knowing when - if ever - they would meet.
"What if she dies?" He was asking us. "Like, what if she's one of those starving kids in Africa? Or a girl chained up in their parent's basement? I'll never meet her."
"You will," Sally reassured him. "That's why they're called soul*mates*. You need two to mate."
"Actually, there's organisms that self-reproduc-"
"Aaaaaand you're not one of them," I told him, cutting in. "So just keep waiting and the right one will come around."
"I hope." He sighs.
One of the teachers blow a whistle and everyone starts clearing the trays.
Sally and I share a look.
Edit: I dont know where the heck I'm going with this story! I'm just going to end it here, or I'll just be writing on and on and on forever about nothing.
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[WP] Nobody understood why the dragon decided to live at the zoo, but she's long been the most popular attraction there. She'll pose for pictures with anyone, loves it when visitors throw gold coins in her enclosure, and she's not above playacting for the young "knights" that come to do battle.
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Wednesday's were usually fun for the Ol' Girl. Afternoons always had the best feast of the week and the new-comers got to practice their bit for Saturday's shows. Abe, one of the newest "Knights of the Round" was eager for his chance to show the crowds what he was capable of and made it clear in no uncertain terms.
"I'm actually gonna slay that dragon, guys. You'll see," he said after just two sessions in the pit.
"You're full of shit, dude." Sam, an experienced pit fighter, said. "And besides, even if you had a slim chance of actually killing it, why would you want to? She's not so bad. Got you a job, hell - got us all a job. The kids love it! The parents love it! Everybody loves that dragon so why are you acting so serious about this?"
"Because it *is* serious!That thing is a threat! It could kill us all whenever it wants to. Burn the whole thing to the ground, the whole country down!"
"Have you ever been badly burnt in your few encounters with her?" Sam asked - already knowing the answer.
"No, I haven't but-"
"No, you haven't. And when she does blow a full inferno she's tired and lethargic the next day. So how do you think she could burn down the whole country before we sent a warhead hurtling towards her? Don't worry so much about the old stories."
"We'll see."
---
Saturday's festivities started off like always. Crowds gathered around the pit to see which Knight could save the damsel, or pilfer some coin. The scenarios were few but the fighters never knew which one they'd be doing. Improvisation was important. The Ol' Girl knew how to make it "real" and give the fighters a reason to stay sharp. The bouts were always exciting and the crowd was always enthralled. Abe waited in the batter's box, and soon his name was called.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, people of all races, shapes, and sizes, creeds and colors put your hands together for our next contestant!"
The crowd roared and the announcer continued, "A new-comer to the pit, he's waiting to show you the mortality of our best friend here." The crowd murmured and some booed. The announcer continued mockingly, "Does he really think he stands a chance? I don't think so!" The crowd laughed and jeered.
"People, put your hands together for Knight Abe!" Again the crowd roared and the gate opened allowing Abe into the pit. He immediately saw the dragon guarding a large pile of fake gold. "That's it, huh?" he said to himself. "Even if I was playing this stupid game, this one's too easy. Well time to let her know the score." He proceeded slowly towards the dragon, feigning caution.
The dragon, pretending to sleep in this scenario, was faced away from the Hero Knight. Abe was only 10 feet from the dragon now and beckoned by clashing his sword against his shield. He shouted, "Dragon! Thief and hoarder! I am here to reclaim these riches! For the Kingdom," he gestured up with both arms towards the crowd, "and my people!" The crowd erupted, and the dragon boredly turned her head towards Abe. She sighed a puff of smoke in his direction, engulfing him for a breif second, and the crowd laughed. "And I'm here to make sure you never get your claws on another piece of the peoples' money," the crowd Oooh'd and Awww'd.
In a split second he bound towards the huge, shimmering pile of gold and a giant claw came crashing down. He quickly rolled under and shouted, "Ha! I see you've gotten slow in your old age!" The dragon didn't take kindly to that remark and roared with another claw aimed for the new knight. He deftly dodged the attack and made his way higher up the fake mountain of gold. She attempted a tail swipe but, again, the knight was able to roll under the attack and followed up with one of his own. He swung up as her tail whipped back and was able to cut deep. She bled.
---
"FOOL!" She bellowed with an enormous blaze into the sky. The crowd was dead silent. Never before had a knight been able to bleed the dragon. Never before had she spoken.
"You should not have come back," she hissed.
"You should not have stayed here!" he shouted back.
"INSOLENT WHELP," she bellowed again with another inferno pointed towards the sky. "It was *you* who chained me to this land! It was *you* who forced me into this position!"
Sam was in the pit now and called up to Abe. "Very interesting! I had no idea there was anyone still around who could forge a blade capable of piercing dragons' flesh. Very interesting indeed." He looked towards the dragon now, "But it wasn't him who bound you to this spot."
The dragon's strength was waning now. "So it was *you*!" She said with a puff of smoke.
Sam smiled. "If I had a gun I'd shoot Abe right now and make sure you stay here - alive. But, since I don't, I think we should discuss our options."
The dragon stood silent. Abe shouted down, "What the hell are you talking about?! You're the reason she's so docile?"
"I was tasked with keeping her alive," Sam replied, "and I have every intention of doing that. Even if it means sacrificing myself," he trailed off, but quickly regained composure. "Dragon! I can lift your curse so you can fight back, but I want something in return."
The dragon remained silent. Again, Abe broke the silence. "Fuck this! I'm ending it now!"
Abe leaped from the fake mountain of gold, gripping his sword with both hands, and plummeted towards the dragon. Without hesitation Sam reached for something in his pocket. "I NEED HER ALIVE!" He shouted and the dragon opened its wings, knocking back the attacking Knight. The dragon took flight. The crowd panicked. It was just like the old stories.
Fire rained from the sky.
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*I posted this and the formatting was totally ruined... sure hope I fixed it. Thanks for reading!*
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*For eons, I had been a creature of destruction. The Master of All Creation gifted me with incomparable power, for the world in its beginning was a merciless place. Throughout my youth I drifted through a void of immeasurable destitution, with only the ruinous flames I held in my belly to provide light. There was no past, no present, and no future. But somehow, amongst the darkness appeared a luminous sphere - a great rock within which were embers that were soon to be dead. I gifted my flames to the rock and soon witnessed life on this Earthen land being birthed. As time passed, I witnessed wretched storms and floods that left a desolate wasteland wherever they struck. Life struggled to flourish, but I could feel in the humid, heavy air that there was more to see. I had spent my entire life in emptiness, but while watching this progression of existence my life would not be fruitless.*
*Now, in my old age, I sit here fascinated by what this world has become. The life that had endured many attempts at annihilation in its infancy now stood staring back at me with wonder. I could sense an aura surrounding them, a haze of the infinite carnage and pain that had led to them being there. Yet as their hands passed over my weary scales, the warmth of their gentle caress felt pleasant. The games they wished to play were beloved moments that my ancient memory, full of death and the black void of my youth, found great pleasure in. How much longer did this world have, I pondered, before the Master of All Creation would ask me to grant it my flames once more?*
"She's such a sweet thing, isn't she?"
"Mama, can we see the dragon again tomorrow?"
"Sure, honey, if you finish your studies on time. Come along now. Let's go home."
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[WP] You're a small-time god, with only one follower. They moved to the big city and you followed, determined to make it as one of the revered gods of the pantheon. The temple district was over-crowded, so you decided to make a local park your sacred home. A year later, everyone knows your name.
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"Why do you bother?"
I looked up from my small collection of litter. The soda cans and plastic wrappers piled together into a tiny mountain of refuse. I held out my hand for Claire to hand me a bag.
"Because it makes me happy. And no one's asking you to stay," I said.
Claire rolled her eyes, but handed me the bag. I started to fill it with the mountain. Claire stepped back and sat on the grass beside the small pool. The water wasn't deep, but it was clear and cool. Claire broke the glass surface with a lazy hand. She cupped her fingers, letting it flow from her palm into the pond.
"I've been thinking..."
"Sounds dangerous."
"I've been thinking," she continued, "that maybe you shouldn't stay here anymore."
I stopped filling the bag, settled back on my heels. My knees ached from crouching. I frowned, and I felt the air chill as clouds moved in. The light beneath my skin tried to compensate, but it couldn't quite match the brightness of the covered sun.
"Why?"
"Come on, Val, people are starting to notice."
"hmm?"
"The everpresent sunshine, the never dying plants, the constant cleanliness. In New York?"
I smirked.
"I am the God of Shade, Claire. Where I walk, the sun shines, and my shadow..."
"Hides the world. I know. But I just wish you weren't so consistent about it, " Claire sighed, "It's fine I suppose, people will just chalk it up to meteorological weirdness or some other nonsense, but could you try to tone it down a bit?"
I finished with the trash and moved to place it in the nearby can. Claire had gotten it for me when I expressed my distress with the state of the park near her building. I brushed my hands on my jeans to rid them of the filth.
"Claire, my power grows with each passing day, I can no more stop what is happening than I can stop the setting of my Grandfather. Soon, the other Gods will need my help, I know it."
"Your Gramps is kind of dick, Val. So are the rest of those 'Gods' as far as I'm concerned. They only ever want your help when they need you."
I frowned, it was not the other God's fault. They were very large and very bright; they often forgot the depth of the shadows they cast. I didn't. Claire understood a lot for a mortal, but she was still so ignorant. I was partially responsible for that. I did not tell her as much as I should, but I am a God of dark promises and whispered words. I had secrets.
"You should not be so flippant with your words, they are not forgiving."
"You'd stop them."
And I would. Which was frightening. There was a time I wouldn't have, but Claire believed in me, and that gave me strength.
"I'd rather not have to. Please be polite."
She laughed. I loved her laugh. It reminded me of home. I sat near her and placed my own hand in the water. It shivered at my touch. I drew back from it.
"So, great and mighty God of Shade. What's the plan today?"
I turned to the clouds above, "I think today is a day for sunshine. Don't you?"
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"Helsik!!!!!!"
Ahh to hear my name screamed so oftenly now a days is much better than a temple. Those Gods are weak compared to me. Now that everyone knows my name my power has become immeasurable.
I can change this world to anything i desire... But i only desire one thing.
I stand from my throne to look out to the one calling my name. What would he like today?
To serve me? I have many servants both willing and unwillingly. So it looks like today another will be sacrificed in my name. By my hand.
"I ,Helsik, God of war and fire, accept you as my next tribute!"
"No! Not today!" They respond.... But that voice..... It's too familiar.
"I worshipped you when no one else did. And now... I want my payment. In blood!"
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[WP] After the elves wiped out all of humanity, you are the only survivor. You scavenge in the ruins of civilization when one day you find a book. Turns out it contains the lost art of necromancy. Upon resurrecting the first corpse you realise that you can finally plan your revenge.
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Wars had been common for millennia, the balance always tilting a bit further, until the last one. For eons they had threatened us, but I found something that would make a difference. There would be no more wars.
I did what was needed. I got rid of them, of the enemy.
&#x200B;
But all of this was so long ago. I am now old and fading, a relic of another time. Through miracles, we came back from the brink, and are now flourishing once again, free of the shadow. For a while the young ones had looked at me with fear and respect, not truly understanding, but now... Now they barely look at me anymore.
I am getting ready to move on, to leave this world, and to take with me the last remnant of darkness.
History will remember, but the world will never again bear witness to the horrors I had to bring. Or so I thought.
This morning I got called upon, as they needed my wisdom. There was fear in the voices of those around me.
"Master, rumors are spreading. Something is coming. They speak of an evil in the old ruins in the north."
"They speak of... a necromancer."
&#x200B;
I had been wrong. We had not won.
I, General Athai, Grand Commander of the Elven Legions and last living veteran of the Final War, had failed. Believing that dominion over earth was our right, I had brought hell upon the humans. Using dark magic I corrupted my soul to be rid of them once and for all.
To seek forgiveness for what we had done, we swore to live in peace, and to never again let violence take over the world. I threw away the tomes of knowledge I used in the war, and we made sure not a single soul borne after the war would need to learn how to fight.
&#x200B;
As my last breath escapes my lips, I now realize that somehow, humanity endured.
And, as those around me would soon discover, humanity does not forgive.
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Before the War of the Teldori, where the elves' superiority over man culminated in the human extinction, Paul was but a simple plumber. No family, limited friends and no real hobbies, he never imagined being the last human alive let alone seemingly the last survivor. Hunger had started to take hold but, due to lack of competition, there were still unraided supplies in homes. He has been sticking to villages to avoid the Teldori, whose forces congregated mostly in the cities. After finding an undisturbed cottage, he breaks through the door and makes his way to the kitchen, trying to find tinned food. The cupboards were bare however, except for a book. He hesitantly picked it up by it's worn black bindings, but decided to thumb through. Most of it was unreadable to poor Paul, but a single line stood out to him, a line he could read:
*"Pelledon, markord, tellifrey, pajit. Speaketh the words and never be alone again."*
Upon reading the line out loud, there was a clatter outside in the garden, as something appeared to move.. or someone? Paul ran as fast as he could through the house and out of the back door to find the body of presumably the cottages owner, standing there, staring without eyes.
"Finally, someone to talk to!", Paul yelled gleefully. "Although you do look a tad dead, mate. If it wasn't for all these pointy-eared mages I'd almost be surprised by this. This place has gone right tits up and this book is just.. complete nonsense but I spoke the words and here you are!". His deceased and partially desiccated disciple turns to face him, "Buuuuuurgh?". Paul looks at the now risen corpse, down at the book, and back to the corpse. Just his luck to raise someone who doesn't speak his language. "This looks like it could be useful uh... what do I call you? Zack the Zombie, that'll do Zack! Right, Zack, I'm hungry, let's find some food!". He leaves the cottage, with his new-found friend in tow, walking toward the next village. The words in the book weren't particularly easy to remember, so Paul came up with a tune to remind himself of them:
*"Pelledon, markord, tellifrey pajit, singing usually makes me look like a tit, but with no one to see I can just be me, we'll make the world better 'cos it's currently shit."*
He sung it over and over until the tune even started to wear even HIM out. Dusk began to fall and with no food and no real company, Paul broke into a small shop situated on the outskirts of the village, instructed Zack to stay, scavenged some tinned peaches for a make-shift supper and slept through the night. The next morning he awoke to sirens, explosions, bursts of green and red flame shooting across the sky. He darted to the window to see what was occurring to find the elves running and firing their magic bolts at something approaching. A cacophony of shuffling, of groaning, and a tune Paul recognised all too easily. It appeared that his singing down the road had arisen more than just one Zack, but thousands, an ocean of undead flooding the streets attempting to fulfil their masters' command to make the world better for Paul. The elves could attempt to kill as many as they wanted, but fire and fury mean little to those comprised of bone and rotting flesh, the flesh may burn away and then you're left with a very angry skeleton.
Paul noticed what was happening, he noticed his newly found army purging the nearby villages on the other side of the farmlands, he noticed the defensive blasts of the elves getting quieter and quieter. He pulled the book carefully out of his knapsack, and wondered what other spells he could find.
Flicking through, he discovered one last spell he could read:
*"Domestos, toilettecanard, muscolo, cillit. Speaketh the words and your cisterns will flow clean eternally."*
"No wonder they didn't need humans..", Paul thought.
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[WP] After the elves wiped out all of humanity, you are the only survivor. You scavenge in the ruins of civilization when one day you find a book. Turns out it contains the lost art of necromancy. Upon resurrecting the first corpse you realise that you can finally plan your revenge.
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Wars had been common for millennia, the balance always tilting a bit further, until the last one. For eons they had threatened us, but I found something that would make a difference. There would be no more wars.
I did what was needed. I got rid of them, of the enemy.
&#x200B;
But all of this was so long ago. I am now old and fading, a relic of another time. Through miracles, we came back from the brink, and are now flourishing once again, free of the shadow. For a while the young ones had looked at me with fear and respect, not truly understanding, but now... Now they barely look at me anymore.
I am getting ready to move on, to leave this world, and to take with me the last remnant of darkness.
History will remember, but the world will never again bear witness to the horrors I had to bring. Or so I thought.
This morning I got called upon, as they needed my wisdom. There was fear in the voices of those around me.
"Master, rumors are spreading. Something is coming. They speak of an evil in the old ruins in the north."
"They speak of... a necromancer."
&#x200B;
I had been wrong. We had not won.
I, General Athai, Grand Commander of the Elven Legions and last living veteran of the Final War, had failed. Believing that dominion over earth was our right, I had brought hell upon the humans. Using dark magic I corrupted my soul to be rid of them once and for all.
To seek forgiveness for what we had done, we swore to live in peace, and to never again let violence take over the world. I threw away the tomes of knowledge I used in the war, and we made sure not a single soul borne after the war would need to learn how to fight.
&#x200B;
As my last breath escapes my lips, I now realize that somehow, humanity endured.
And, as those around me would soon discover, humanity does not forgive.
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Issac sat in a dimly lit room. The air was stale, the only scents one could discern were the musk of old books and the sour notes of his own unwashed body. Books littered the floor, the library seemed to him as almost an homage to the streets outside. The stories like those of the countless souls on the cobble stones, left to rot where they had fallen.
&#x200B;
Issac thumbed through the pages of the grimoire, insuring that all his preparations were complete before he began the daunting task of summoning the fallen and forgotten. The elves had done everything they could to wipe humanity from existence. They had failed he mussed, a smirk crossing his dirt covered features. Even if they had truly killed humanity, they had left its knowledge in tact, its stories, its history. Even had he perished in what he had since coined “the silver night” humanity would live on if only through word.
&#x200B;
Issac smirked once more, he looked at the bones that lay in front of him. They were not of a great warrior, not of some legendary hero or some storied general from wars long past. No, his first recruit was of a humbler vocation. A librarian. Issac began to recount the words, slowly but with purpose, each syllable and consonant pronounced to perfection. The bones began to stir, and before Issac could take a moment pause to appreciate his work, the Wraith stood. It stared at him through hollow eyes and spoke with words as cold as ice. You have summoned me back from the other side little brother, how may I assist you.
&#x200B;
Issac’s smirk became a smile, “I’d like you to help me find a couple of books and help me gather a few more companions” he said. To truly destroy something Issac mussed, you must destroy all that it has created.
‘What tomes and scrolls do you seek?’ inquired the Wraith.
Issac smiled once more, knowledge is power, and it seemed to him that the pen was truly mightier than the sword.
|
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[WP] You’re the sole survivor of the sudden and mysterious death of all humanity. You’ve been dodging insanity for decades by talking to mannequins and puppets. One day, sitting in your shelter, there’s a knock on your door.
|
I sat up in bed with a start, not really sure what was going on. There were always noises. The world is a noisy place. In fact, as I looked around the room, the wind was blowing so strongly there was a sharp whistling sound going around the wall. I felt certain that the whistling had not woken me up.
The world used to be louder. I couldn't really remember exactly *how* it sounded louder, but I knew conceptually that it was. There used to be more kinds of sounds than the wind and decay. These days, wind and decay just made up the daily balance of ambience. The auditory slice of life for the last two humans on the planet.
*This* was different. It was regular. Sequential. Consistent. Like the beating of Monica's heart when the wind died down, or the sound of our feet crunching the ground beneath us as we walked in search of supplies.
*Noises don't keep beats these days*, I thought.
To my left, Monica was already up and alert. That surprised me, since Monica was usually the last to notice anything. "Tommy, there's someone at the door."
We both stayed silent, listening.
After several moments, I let out a breath and sighed. "I'm going back to bed, Monica. There's nothing at the door."
But before I could even finished my sentence, the knock came again. Three hard raps, and then a very low, muffled voice called out, "Hello? I heard you talking! We're coming in!"
Monica started climbing out of bed. My adrenaline was pumping so strongly that nothing seemed real. I couldn't process what was happening. I was about to get up when the door was kicked open and I got pushed back on to my side in the dusty ground.
I couldn't see anything. My face was against the wall and I couldn't breath. There was a struggle and Monica was yelling incomprehensibly. The intruder rose its voice.
"Ma'am, you're lucky we just found you on heat sensors. This region is no longer safe; we have a shelter for your kind above the surface but we need to go *right now*."
Monica kept screaming, and then I was rolled over on to my back. I still couldn't move, but I could see the intruder more clearly as light was entering our shelter. It intruder was shaped kind of like a person, but instead of a face it wore a black reflective ovoid mask.
"Not without Tommy," Monica yelled.
The person didn't move and was silent for several heartbeats. "Ma'am, how long have you been out here?"
Monica and I both spoke at the same time, "We've been here since the beginning!"
Monica kept screaming at the intruder, but she was becoming more coherent, "There's no way in hell I'm leaving Tommy here. You need to leave right now."
A red light blinked somewhere deep inside the person's mask. I barely registered it.
"Miss, we have a strict weight allowance for trips from the surface. We can't allow refugees to bring anything with them."
"So what, Monica is a refugee but I'm not? Who the hell are you? I don't know who you are, but you need to leave *right now*."
Cocking its head to one side, the intruder continued staring at Monica. "Ma'am, who is Monica?"
"I'm Monica," she exclaimed, pointing at her chin with her thumb. "I'm warning you, leave us alone!"
"You were just referring to someone else as Monica. Is there anyone else here with you?"
Monica pointed at me with her index finger and the masked person looked directly at me. I glared back and demanded, "Why are you trying to separate us? Why is this area no longer safe? If there's a place to go, why have we been out here all this time?" I had so many more questions.
The red light pulsed behind the intruder's mask a few more times and he looked back to Monica. "Ma'am, no one has been here since the beginning. That was decades ago. I don't see anyone else here. If you've snuck to the surface with friends, I need to know right now."
I pulled myself up with Monica's arm as she offered it. "Friends? Snuck to the surface?", I asked.
Suddenly, the pulse changed to a steady yellow and the person took a step back. There was a rapid set of clicks from inside the ovoid mask. "Ma'am, I've confirmed you're not from the settlement." I blinked at this, and Monica and I both looked at each other. It was finally starting to register in our minds. Other people? A settlement?
"I'm so sorry, but we can't take your possessions with you and we need to leave right away."
Before I understood what was happening, I was on the ground again breathing in dust. Monica was screaming and kicking her feet in the air as she was lifted off the ground. I heard her yell, "Don't hurt Tommy, or I swear I'll kill you!"
"Ma'am, the mannequin would exceed your weight quotient. There are real people on the settlement," the masked person said, but Monica kept screaming.
There was an electric *zap* sound, like the sound of lights decaying slowly. Monica abruptly stopped talking. Everything became silent again. I heard the crunch of the intruder's steps as it retreated from the building carrying Monica slouched over its shoulder. A cold calm fell over me, eerily refreshing after the panic moments before.
The wind whistled. The ambience returned.
|
The mirror is scuffed and crusty with dirt, almost to the point where Paul can no longer see himself reflected in it.
Not that this is much of a loss. What little Paul can make out of his face disturbs him. Gone is the smooth, youthful skin, gone the wide, happy eyes and easy smile of his youth. In their place he seemed to wear a mask of creases and thinly veiled despair. Lines carved from decades of stress crisscrossed his rubbery skin, made callous by wind born ash and the hot rays of the unfeeling sun.
Paul peered into the remnants of the mirror and mumbled to the figure there as though it were not him.
"You're an ugly one," Paul said to the disfigured form in the mirror, "how did you scrape by all these years?"
There was a beat and the man in the mirror who was not Paul answered, his voice gruffer than Paul's and a slightly lower register.
"Been tough," the man said, "real tough. At times I thought I wouldn't be able to go on."
Paul gave the eerily Paul-like figure a nod. "I feel you brother," Paul said, and looked down into the shattered basin of the long dead bathroom sink, "it's been a long road."
The man in the mirror looked down too, and said quietly. "You met anyone, out there?"
Paul hesitated. Without looking up at the man in the mirror he said "sure." Then he added, "lots."
The man in the mirror looked Paul in ths eyes for a long time.
"Anyone," he chewed on the second word before spitting it out in a whisper, "real?"
Paul licked his dry lips and his reflection did the same. Paul's lips were always dry.
"Real as you," Paul said to himself.
Fed up with his own reflected company Paul hit the mirror with a nearby chunk of shattered procelain, shattering it loudly, and continued probing the dark depths of the long abandoned suburban house.
So far it was a good haul. He'd found some genuine survival food in the basement - the kind of nitrogen packed stuff they sold in the months just before the war started. Decades ago.
Paul had several cans of Type A freeze dried eggs stacked by the front door. All that remained to do was tear apart the kitchen cabinets. If he was lucky Paul would find some ancient bullion or a jar of honey. Not much else kept after forty years.
He was halfway through the kitchen cabinets when he heard a noise. It was, to his astonishment, still familiar, so long after the end of the world. It was a noise, it turned out, that gets lodged somewhere deep in your brain and never leaves, no matter what else changes.
Someone knocked on the front door.
Paul froze in abject fear. He had not seen another living person in decades. He had not seen another living *thing* in decades besides a periodic rodent or insect.
Now, inside this abandoned house on an abandoned street in an abandoned country in an abandoned world, someone was knocking on the door.
There it was again.
Paul started sweating. This, he was certain, was it. His battle with lunacy had finally been lost. He'd always thought it was inevitable - in fact he'd expected to succumb to it years ago. Nonetheless, it was strange to finally see the breakdown as it happened to him.
The person knocked a third time. They were not, whoever they were, giving up. Paul took a deep, hoarse breath, swallowed the lump of fear in his raspy throat, and walked over to the door. He rested his hand on the rusty doorknob and closed his eyes tight.
With a loud creak, the door swung open.
Paul stood there with his eyes firmly shut and waited.
"Paul?"
Paul refused to open his eyes. He knew that to open his eyes was to give in.
"Paul, what are you doing?"
A woman's voice. Paul thought he recognized it. A voice from another life. An impossible voice.
"Paul, open your eyes silly."
Paul refused. He wouldn't. Even as a gentle warmth began to glow on the skin of his exposed arms and cheeks. Even as the darkness behind his eyelids decreased from some new light.
"Paul, honey, it's alright. Open your eyes."
Paul felt the hand before it touched his cheek, in that way you feel a lovers touch even when they hover just above your skin. When the soft palm of her hand finally made contact, Paul couldn't help but start to cry. How could his own mind be this cruel?
The woman must have seen Paul's tears because she reacted warmly. "Oh now, what's this? Paul, it's alright honey." She stepped closer and embraced Paul, wrapping her small, delicate arms around his wretched form.
"Don't be afraid, Paul." She whispered, and suddenly Paul recognized that voice. "Open your eyes honey."
In her arms, his face buried in the crook of her neck, Paul's fears vanished as he smelled the deep flowery scent of her favorite perfume, the one Paul bought her for Christmas last year.
*Yes*, Paul thought, *we celebrated at her parent's house. The whole family was there. And I bought her perfume.*
Paul could remember the party, the warmth of the fireplace, the scent of baking pies and the loud chatter of happy family and friends talking over spiced rum and eggnog.
Soon enough the rest of his life began to come into focus as well. His job, her job, their house, their car. His birthday last week and their trip two months ago to Prague. It was his first time in Europe and they'd had such a good time he'd sworn he'd go back every year.
Suddenly, the broken world Paul had suffered through for four decades - well what of it? A nightmare, a specter - no more real to Paul than the man in the dirty mirror or the monster under a child's bed.
Paul opened his eyes and left that broken world behind. There was Mary's gorgeous blue eyes, like two deep wells. There was the delicious scent of Mary's warm breath, and the taste of her mouth as she kissed him.
"You're a strange one Paul, you know that?" She asked.
Overjoyed, Paul just nodded. "I sure am, aren't I." And they kissed again.
Mary broke the kiss short and stood at arms length wearing a smile. "Well, you ready then? We don't have this truck all day you know."
Paul looked past Mary at the U-haul truck parked in the immaculate ashphalt of the tree lined block. Two happy children biked by on the sidewalk and waved to Paul on the stoop of his house.
Suddenly Paul remembered - it was moving day. They had bought a three bedroom across town - bigger than this little one bedroom they were living behind. Someplace where they could raise a family, someplace to grow old together.
Without looking back, Paul smiled broadly and kissed Mary one last time. Then he bounded off the porch, down the two concrete steps, and ran to the truck and into the driver's seat.
"No time to waste," he said, young again, "the future awaits!"
Mary laughed lightly and made her way into the passenger seat. Once she was buckled in Paul started the truck. Right before he set off, Mary gave him a long look.
"I love you Paul."
"I love *you*. God, how I love you."
One more kiss and they were on their way, down the long curve of the block, beneath the perfect blue sky.
Back on the porch, the lopsided door to the house, affixed to the peeling, sun bleached wood frame by only one hinge, stood ajar.
From the street, one could see hardly anything within the dark portal of the open door. Only a crumpled, motionless mass of tattered, soiled rags and the labels of several large rusty cans that read, in big, block letters:
> EGGS - TYPE A
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
## r/LFTM
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|
[WP] You’re the sole survivor of the sudden and mysterious death of all humanity. You’ve been dodging insanity for decades by talking to mannequins and puppets. One day, sitting in your shelter, there’s a knock on your door.
|
*Knock Knock Knock*
Repetitious, repeated, and concise. These were not the knocks of an animal, these were made by intelligent thought. Outside the windows was a black abyss, my simple candle from inside could not illuminate much and would likely be swallowed by the cold void.
*Knock Knock Knock*
Again, a person? Impossible. Decades of searching...has it really been decades? No, no one but I had lived through the fall of man. A one in a 10-billion immunity. I hadn't had a conversation or seen a smiling face in...it is impossible to know, to count now. They could be hear to steal from me, and it would not matter now. Nothing would, as long as it meant one moment of no longer being alone.
*Knock Knock Knock*
I grasped the door and swung it open, mustering from my dry throat the first words uttered in many, many years. "Who...who goes there?" The cold chill from the night air hit and sent shivers down my spine. Nothing was there, not a soul. I staggered out a few feet to see if my little light could see anything but the void consumed all light except that around me. Am I going insane?
As I stagger back inside I froze in horror. I know who was knocking at the door, I have seen his work. Laying in the corner of the room on my bedroll I can see myself peacefully slumbering. For this was no stranger knocking on my door, death was. And the true horror is I still am journeying alone.
|
The mirror is scuffed and crusty with dirt, almost to the point where Paul can no longer see himself reflected in it.
Not that this is much of a loss. What little Paul can make out of his face disturbs him. Gone is the smooth, youthful skin, gone the wide, happy eyes and easy smile of his youth. In their place he seemed to wear a mask of creases and thinly veiled despair. Lines carved from decades of stress crisscrossed his rubbery skin, made callous by wind born ash and the hot rays of the unfeeling sun.
Paul peered into the remnants of the mirror and mumbled to the figure there as though it were not him.
"You're an ugly one," Paul said to the disfigured form in the mirror, "how did you scrape by all these years?"
There was a beat and the man in the mirror who was not Paul answered, his voice gruffer than Paul's and a slightly lower register.
"Been tough," the man said, "real tough. At times I thought I wouldn't be able to go on."
Paul gave the eerily Paul-like figure a nod. "I feel you brother," Paul said, and looked down into the shattered basin of the long dead bathroom sink, "it's been a long road."
The man in the mirror looked down too, and said quietly. "You met anyone, out there?"
Paul hesitated. Without looking up at the man in the mirror he said "sure." Then he added, "lots."
The man in the mirror looked Paul in ths eyes for a long time.
"Anyone," he chewed on the second word before spitting it out in a whisper, "real?"
Paul licked his dry lips and his reflection did the same. Paul's lips were always dry.
"Real as you," Paul said to himself.
Fed up with his own reflected company Paul hit the mirror with a nearby chunk of shattered procelain, shattering it loudly, and continued probing the dark depths of the long abandoned suburban house.
So far it was a good haul. He'd found some genuine survival food in the basement - the kind of nitrogen packed stuff they sold in the months just before the war started. Decades ago.
Paul had several cans of Type A freeze dried eggs stacked by the front door. All that remained to do was tear apart the kitchen cabinets. If he was lucky Paul would find some ancient bullion or a jar of honey. Not much else kept after forty years.
He was halfway through the kitchen cabinets when he heard a noise. It was, to his astonishment, still familiar, so long after the end of the world. It was a noise, it turned out, that gets lodged somewhere deep in your brain and never leaves, no matter what else changes.
Someone knocked on the front door.
Paul froze in abject fear. He had not seen another living person in decades. He had not seen another living *thing* in decades besides a periodic rodent or insect.
Now, inside this abandoned house on an abandoned street in an abandoned country in an abandoned world, someone was knocking on the door.
There it was again.
Paul started sweating. This, he was certain, was it. His battle with lunacy had finally been lost. He'd always thought it was inevitable - in fact he'd expected to succumb to it years ago. Nonetheless, it was strange to finally see the breakdown as it happened to him.
The person knocked a third time. They were not, whoever they were, giving up. Paul took a deep, hoarse breath, swallowed the lump of fear in his raspy throat, and walked over to the door. He rested his hand on the rusty doorknob and closed his eyes tight.
With a loud creak, the door swung open.
Paul stood there with his eyes firmly shut and waited.
"Paul?"
Paul refused to open his eyes. He knew that to open his eyes was to give in.
"Paul, what are you doing?"
A woman's voice. Paul thought he recognized it. A voice from another life. An impossible voice.
"Paul, open your eyes silly."
Paul refused. He wouldn't. Even as a gentle warmth began to glow on the skin of his exposed arms and cheeks. Even as the darkness behind his eyelids decreased from some new light.
"Paul, honey, it's alright. Open your eyes."
Paul felt the hand before it touched his cheek, in that way you feel a lovers touch even when they hover just above your skin. When the soft palm of her hand finally made contact, Paul couldn't help but start to cry. How could his own mind be this cruel?
The woman must have seen Paul's tears because she reacted warmly. "Oh now, what's this? Paul, it's alright honey." She stepped closer and embraced Paul, wrapping her small, delicate arms around his wretched form.
"Don't be afraid, Paul." She whispered, and suddenly Paul recognized that voice. "Open your eyes honey."
In her arms, his face buried in the crook of her neck, Paul's fears vanished as he smelled the deep flowery scent of her favorite perfume, the one Paul bought her for Christmas last year.
*Yes*, Paul thought, *we celebrated at her parent's house. The whole family was there. And I bought her perfume.*
Paul could remember the party, the warmth of the fireplace, the scent of baking pies and the loud chatter of happy family and friends talking over spiced rum and eggnog.
Soon enough the rest of his life began to come into focus as well. His job, her job, their house, their car. His birthday last week and their trip two months ago to Prague. It was his first time in Europe and they'd had such a good time he'd sworn he'd go back every year.
Suddenly, the broken world Paul had suffered through for four decades - well what of it? A nightmare, a specter - no more real to Paul than the man in the dirty mirror or the monster under a child's bed.
Paul opened his eyes and left that broken world behind. There was Mary's gorgeous blue eyes, like two deep wells. There was the delicious scent of Mary's warm breath, and the taste of her mouth as she kissed him.
"You're a strange one Paul, you know that?" She asked.
Overjoyed, Paul just nodded. "I sure am, aren't I." And they kissed again.
Mary broke the kiss short and stood at arms length wearing a smile. "Well, you ready then? We don't have this truck all day you know."
Paul looked past Mary at the U-haul truck parked in the immaculate ashphalt of the tree lined block. Two happy children biked by on the sidewalk and waved to Paul on the stoop of his house.
Suddenly Paul remembered - it was moving day. They had bought a three bedroom across town - bigger than this little one bedroom they were living behind. Someplace where they could raise a family, someplace to grow old together.
Without looking back, Paul smiled broadly and kissed Mary one last time. Then he bounded off the porch, down the two concrete steps, and ran to the truck and into the driver's seat.
"No time to waste," he said, young again, "the future awaits!"
Mary laughed lightly and made her way into the passenger seat. Once she was buckled in Paul started the truck. Right before he set off, Mary gave him a long look.
"I love you Paul."
"I love *you*. God, how I love you."
One more kiss and they were on their way, down the long curve of the block, beneath the perfect blue sky.
Back on the porch, the lopsided door to the house, affixed to the peeling, sun bleached wood frame by only one hinge, stood ajar.
From the street, one could see hardly anything within the dark portal of the open door. Only a crumpled, motionless mass of tattered, soiled rags and the labels of several large rusty cans that read, in big, block letters:
> EGGS - TYPE A
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
## r/LFTM
|
|
[WP] You're having a discussion with your friend about Christianity in a dingy bar. "Jesus is never coming back", the friend exclaims, "besides, why would he save us?". In the corner, a bearded, tattooed man stands up. "I've been here since '99", Jesus epxlains. "I've been looking for a reason too".
|
"I'm telling you, the world is fucked." said Aiden.
My friend had been getting steadily more drunk over the past hour and was starting to get pessimistic as he does when he's drunk.
"The world is turning into a fireball, countries are having dick measuring contests with nukes, and to top it all off." Aiden takes another hearty swig from his beer. "Game of Thrones is coming to an end. What am I supposed to watch now?"
I chuckled quietly. It was fun talking with my friend after so long. Even when he was so negative like this, it made me nostalgic of our days at school together. Now I was just waiting for when he would turn the conversation-
"Like isn't this when Jesus is supposed to start the rapture already?" Aiden blurted.
\-religious. There it is, like clockwork. Whenever Aiden gets drunk, first he's funny, then negative, then religious. He was strangely dependable that way. We had a religious upbringing together. I wasn't terribly religious myself anymore, but Aiden often attended mass, although was willing to be skeptical when he was less than sober.
"This is prime time for him to come out and rescue the innocent souls from damnation. Right as the world is going down the drain." He took another sip of beer. "Innocent souls. I wonder loo heft amomg, sorry, who left among us is worth saving. I bet Jesus never comes down to save us. Besides, what have we done to make it worth it? Why would he save us?"
This is when I heard the strangers footsteps. Heavy steel toed boots beating the floor like a war drum. It was a subtle sound, but all the more intimidating. So it was a surprise to see a man of a similar slim build as I was with long hair and beard, covered in tattoos, walking toward us, beer mug in hand. His hair was covering most of his face, as an attempted means of hiding his past. It was difficult to describe, but it felt like this man had done something important and was forgotten, maybe even condemned for it. I was at first intimidated by him, but suddenly just felt pity for him.
"Funny you should mention that" the stranger said. "I've been here since '99, and I've been looking for a reason too."
Aiden was just looking at this newcomer, still trying to comprehend his appearance. He spoke as though he was Jesus. He had the look certainly, but to actually call yourself Jesus and expect people to believe you was stupid. But I could tell this stranger already knew that. He barged his way between us, setting his mug down on the counter and stood there, tall and dignified, looking down on us.
"You'd think people would be lining up by the thousands to get a chance to speak to Jesus personally, but instead he resigned to doing security work, or stand-up if the night is slow. It's embarrassing." He puts his arms over mine and Aiden's shoulders. "I used to have people coming in from miles on foot just to hear my wisdom. I made empires quake in fear simply because people listened to me over them. I nearly had command over the entire world and was so close to bringing about an era of peace the world has never known. But all of you decide instead that I wasn't to be trusted, that I was instead worth less than a bag of silver and you nail me up on that hill to die. I figured after people wised up after all this time, it would be easy to get you to listen. But you would all rather call me a heretic than believe I could be the actual son of God. So after trying for so long, I gave up. Took to the road to see what I could find, and it's all the same, people trying to get a leg up on another. Dog eat dog. Look out for number one." The stranger finally stops talking and downs the rest of his drink. "It's sickening. So you're right, friend." He glares at Aiden. "There really is no reason."
I let out a small snickering that quickly turns into raucous laughter. Aiden awkwardly tries to join in my laugh, but is still distracted with the stranger. The stranger turns his head at me in a stunned and terrible silence as though I've sincerely wronged him.
I signal for the barkeep behind the counter. "Hey, Jan? Let me cover this guys tab."
"Uh, are you sure? He's run up quite the bill."
"I'm positive. I can take it."
The barkeep shrugs and says "Alright, hope you didn't have to pay off a mortgage."
The Stranger still doesn't get what's going on, and is all the angrier for it. He grabs me by the collar. "What do you think you're playing at?"
"Whoa there, calm down now. It's alright, I just covered your tab. At least let me down for that." Begrudgingly, the Stranger complies and let's me down. "Thanks. You said you've been here since '99?"
"That's right."
"Just before the millennium or one of the '99's before that?"
"What?" The Stranger said, not at all understanding me. I wasn't sure I believed him being Jesus, but it was fun to play along with people like that. See how far I could take the story.
"Well, Jesus, certainly an immortal being like yourself could have come down at any '99, not just 1999. I was curious if you were here before then or not."
"No, it was 1999"
"Ah, then you would have missed it."
"Missed what?"
"A reason" I said, simply. I took another sip from my glass of wine. "You see, you've been going on and on about how you can't find a reason to save humanity, to start the rapture, when after all this time, the reason you're looking for is right here." As I say this, I gesture to my friend, Aiden.
"Me?" Aiden says, surprised.
Now it was the Stranger's turn to laugh. "You're telling me." The Stranger said between breaths. "This drunk here is the reason we should save all of humanity?"
"Yup" I again said simply.
The Stranger keels over in laughter at this, no longer able to control his laughter. I give him time to catch his breath continuing to sip my wine. "Alright, I'll bite. What did he do to save all of humanity?"
I smile contently at my drink. "Aiden, do you remember what you did? Exactly 20 years ago?"
Aiden looks as though the question was requiring all of his latent mental capacity to comprehend. "We were still in school, right? Yeah. But I don't know what I did."
"Exactly" I said. "You didn't do it because you had to, or were obligated. You did it because that was, that is who you are. 20 years ago, we were in school together, trying to become lawyers. We wanted to fight for the law, bring justice to criminals, all that idealistic crap. But my mom had just diagnosed with cancer and I was trying to help her pay bills and nothing was working out. I lost out on time to fulfill classwork and started to fall behind. My professors warned me if things didn't change I would flunk out. After a while, my mom stopped chemo so she wouldn't burden me with debt. She wanted me to live my life the way I wanted. Not trying to pay off something that wouldn't save her. I pleaded with her to keep fighting. But her mind was made up and she passed away soon after. But it was too late, my classwork became too much to make up and I flunked out of school and had nothing to my name. That night, I went to the cathedral and pleaded with God to understand why I was meant to suffer through this. He didn't give me an answer, as I expected. So I went to the roof of the tallest building on campus and looked out at the city. It was a pretty view, lights shining like a galaxy of stars, brimming with life and activity. None of them knowing what I was about to do. But, the moment I stepped closer to the ledge, Aiden came out on the roof with a six pack."
"Oh yeah! I knew you must've been having a tough time and just thought it would cheer you up." Aiden chimed in, sheepishly.
"It did. More than you know. You offered me a drink and we sat on that roof till the sun came up talking about everything from politics to religion. You even let me cry into your shoulder for an hour while I remembered my mom. Aiden." I looked my friend dead in the eye. "You saved my life that night. I had lost everything I wanted to live for, and you showed me what else there was to live for."
Aiden began to blush, not knowing how to react to such news. "I was just helping you out."
"There's no need to be modest, Aiden." I said. "You did an incredible thing that night. And it is proof that humanity is worth saving. Because if Aiden hadn't done that, Jesus." I turn to look at the Stranger again. "I couldn't have covered your tab. You see, humanity's worth is difficult to discern. There are certainly evil people out there. Many of whom need to suffer to atone for their sins. But we must be willing and able to forgive them for those actions as well or else no good will come from their suffering. If someone is truly serious about changing themselves for the better, we need to give them second chances, no matter what they've done. What you've seen in your travels is no doubt tragic and heart breaking, but you walked up here thinking Aiden was nothing more than a drunk, when in fact, he is a hero. People need a chance. And when they get it, I'll be there to guide them home."
I reached into my pocket and gave the stranger a silver coin. "A close friend once gave that to me. I hope it shows that people can surprise you if you only give them a chance." I take my last sip of wine and address Aiden. "Ready to get out of here, Aiden?"
"Uh, yeah. Probably had too much to drink already." As we stand and walk out of the bar, Aiden staggering a little, the Stranger examines the coin and notices that it's written in Latin and has an engraving of Caesar on it. With a sudden dawning look of comprehension, he looks up to see me walk out the door bathed and disappearing into the light.
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That night, he dreamt.
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There was no greater heresy than that of Yeshu, Rabbi of the Nazarenes. No greater lie, no greater false construction than what that man, the Lamb of God, the one who loved, perpetuated.
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Yet Rabbi Richard Rubenstein propounded a doctrine no less heretical, no less transgressive, no less destructive. Yet here he was, while the stonemason, the people's rabbi, the Great Teacher, uplifted to the very position of God itself.
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Yet it was perhaps because Rubenstein thought God was dead, or to put it more accurately, the covenant had died. God had become the base of being, the material upon which all were constructed, partaking of the same suffering and the same pleasures. God had, in essence, become Jesus.
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But that was heresy.
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For that night, he dreamt.
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He dreamt of Moses, of the Shoah, of the Greeks. He dreamt of the fate of the Canaanites, the destruction of Shylock, the sack of Jerusalem. He dreamt of suffering, of triumph, of shame.
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Most of all, he dreamt of pain, and it was that pain that manifested him in a different world, a world that had never existed and would not ever. Figments of the imagination might be made real, but dreams, they exist in an universe separate from that which we populate.
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So, he dreamt.
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And there he was, sitting, in front of him a man who would be known to man not for his intellect, but for his bravery, not for his work, but for his rebellion, not for his piety, but for his transgression. Was it tragic that he was remembered as such? No one could answer, least of all Dietrich Bonhoeffer.
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The Rabbi opened his mouth, almost asking the question, "Where am I?". However, it was futile to do so, because he knew where he was. It was a bar he had never truly visited before, but he knew it existed, he knew that he had seen it.....he knew he had lived in it. The aggregate of all bars that a Rabbi had gone to before he was thirty. That was it, another figment of the imagination.
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"You think that, but this place is very real, my friend, more real than the puny little thing you call the physical world", spoke the man in the cream suit. It ill suited him. Theologians and priests are supposed to wear black, and maintain a sort of gravity. If anything, the man in front of him had the appearance of the stereotypical American "nerd".
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Richard knew what he was going to ask, but - and he didn't know why - he also understood that Dietrich was already aware of these questions. And what questions they must have been, for a slight frown appeared on the face of the man murdered by the Nazis. (Funny, he thought, they elevated the rebels to the position of heroes to mask their own guilt.)
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"You are here to ask that question, aren't you?"
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"Will he come, and how can you speak such perfect English?"
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"Reality is......ahhh......whatever you want it to be"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
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"Pastiche, my friend. One day you'll understand, or maybe your children will"
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"And the other question?"
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The Christian chuckled then. "He isn't coming back, why would he?"
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There was something absolutely wrong about this, the Rabbi thought. Disturbing, even. An utterly nihilistic sense to it, almost as if the centre around which modern society was constructed had collapsed, turned into a dark void, a black hole in the place of meaning.
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"He's not wrong, you know", said the man in the corner.
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Once again, Rubenstein knew who he was. Only one man could possess that physique, that face and that......atmosphere. The Aramaic tinge in his voice was apparent too. There was no halo, no angels nor any armies to keep the Child of Man company. It was him, a glorified pastor, and a newly-minted Rabbi with crazy ideas disregarded by the general establishment.
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"I assume this is about the Holocaust?" asked Rubenstein, personally uneasy about the question, for the answer, he was sure, would be disturbing to the core. After all, Jesus was the ultimate victim, the ultimate sufferer, the realizer of all pain.
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"On that cross of mine, I suffered. I suffered all and redeemed all, so that even the most vile would be saved. From the wreckage I salvaged the world, and what is left of it? A continuation of the same pain and suffering. I promised salvation, and I gave damnation."
"Well, that's wrong, I am sure you are aware of the Book of Revelations, my God thy Lord", Dietrich interjected, calm and composed, almost as if he looked upon Jesus every breakfast.
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"And I do look upon him every breakfast"
"He does. But let me continue, what had God offered me, for the pain, the suffering, the Messianic fate I was subjected to. I have existed co-eternal with God, constituted of the same substance yet in three differential modes, but I am the Godhead, I am the deity. If God can suffer, if God can be subjected to the same, if God can be violated by a mere human, then what is the point of it all, if God is lower than that which he is supposed to be above? What is the answer to this contradiction?"
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Dietrich softly spoke, "Take a glass of wine. You might be God, but you are human as well. You are the Child of Man, children suffer for the mistakes of their guardians."
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"Am I supposed to drink?"
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"That's what the wine is for"
"Thank you, Rabbi"
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"Call me Father"
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"Very well then. Here it is, I have drunk what men claim to be my own blood, should I partake of a communion wafer now? Turn myself into a cannibal?"
"Suffering is eternal, Son. The vilification is eternal. You are Judas as much as Jesus, Peter as much as Pilate. Your name was born to be loved and vilified in equal measure, for you are God, and only God can exist despite being a contradiction, a paradox."
"And what are you, for you are not a mere priest." asked the Rabbi, then.
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"Oh, I am just a middle-aged man who got executed for being on the periphery of a coup d'tat that was never going to succeed. Nothing more"
"Oh" said the Rabbi, as the essence of the dream dissipated, the colours returned, and the eyelids rolled back.
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Jesus might have been the biggest of the heretics, but the greater heresy was Paul's, the Rabbi's, the gnostic's.
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It was that of direct revelation, of the realization of God, that of the miracle, that was the greatest heresy of them all.
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*Note: While the general trend of the works written by the Roman Catholic Bishop of Urquell have not been declared heretical by the Church in Rome, this particular piece of fiction that was written as a form of obituary for the good Bishop's friend, Richard Rubenstein, the seminal Jewish Death of God theologian, had been proscribed by the Church, and remained unpublished till now. Therefore, the New Yorker has the pleasure of publishing this important piece of literature for the viewing of the general public first.*
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[WP] You're having a discussion with your friend about Christianity in a dingy bar. "Jesus is never coming back", the friend exclaims, "besides, why would he save us?". In the corner, a bearded, tattooed man stands up. "I've been here since '99", Jesus epxlains. "I've been looking for a reason too".
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"I'm telling you, the world is fucked." said Aiden.
My friend had been getting steadily more drunk over the past hour and was starting to get pessimistic as he does when he's drunk.
"The world is turning into a fireball, countries are having dick measuring contests with nukes, and to top it all off." Aiden takes another hearty swig from his beer. "Game of Thrones is coming to an end. What am I supposed to watch now?"
I chuckled quietly. It was fun talking with my friend after so long. Even when he was so negative like this, it made me nostalgic of our days at school together. Now I was just waiting for when he would turn the conversation-
"Like isn't this when Jesus is supposed to start the rapture already?" Aiden blurted.
\-religious. There it is, like clockwork. Whenever Aiden gets drunk, first he's funny, then negative, then religious. He was strangely dependable that way. We had a religious upbringing together. I wasn't terribly religious myself anymore, but Aiden often attended mass, although was willing to be skeptical when he was less than sober.
"This is prime time for him to come out and rescue the innocent souls from damnation. Right as the world is going down the drain." He took another sip of beer. "Innocent souls. I wonder loo heft amomg, sorry, who left among us is worth saving. I bet Jesus never comes down to save us. Besides, what have we done to make it worth it? Why would he save us?"
This is when I heard the strangers footsteps. Heavy steel toed boots beating the floor like a war drum. It was a subtle sound, but all the more intimidating. So it was a surprise to see a man of a similar slim build as I was with long hair and beard, covered in tattoos, walking toward us, beer mug in hand. His hair was covering most of his face, as an attempted means of hiding his past. It was difficult to describe, but it felt like this man had done something important and was forgotten, maybe even condemned for it. I was at first intimidated by him, but suddenly just felt pity for him.
"Funny you should mention that" the stranger said. "I've been here since '99, and I've been looking for a reason too."
Aiden was just looking at this newcomer, still trying to comprehend his appearance. He spoke as though he was Jesus. He had the look certainly, but to actually call yourself Jesus and expect people to believe you was stupid. But I could tell this stranger already knew that. He barged his way between us, setting his mug down on the counter and stood there, tall and dignified, looking down on us.
"You'd think people would be lining up by the thousands to get a chance to speak to Jesus personally, but instead he resigned to doing security work, or stand-up if the night is slow. It's embarrassing." He puts his arms over mine and Aiden's shoulders. "I used to have people coming in from miles on foot just to hear my wisdom. I made empires quake in fear simply because people listened to me over them. I nearly had command over the entire world and was so close to bringing about an era of peace the world has never known. But all of you decide instead that I wasn't to be trusted, that I was instead worth less than a bag of silver and you nail me up on that hill to die. I figured after people wised up after all this time, it would be easy to get you to listen. But you would all rather call me a heretic than believe I could be the actual son of God. So after trying for so long, I gave up. Took to the road to see what I could find, and it's all the same, people trying to get a leg up on another. Dog eat dog. Look out for number one." The stranger finally stops talking and downs the rest of his drink. "It's sickening. So you're right, friend." He glares at Aiden. "There really is no reason."
I let out a small snickering that quickly turns into raucous laughter. Aiden awkwardly tries to join in my laugh, but is still distracted with the stranger. The stranger turns his head at me in a stunned and terrible silence as though I've sincerely wronged him.
I signal for the barkeep behind the counter. "Hey, Jan? Let me cover this guys tab."
"Uh, are you sure? He's run up quite the bill."
"I'm positive. I can take it."
The barkeep shrugs and says "Alright, hope you didn't have to pay off a mortgage."
The Stranger still doesn't get what's going on, and is all the angrier for it. He grabs me by the collar. "What do you think you're playing at?"
"Whoa there, calm down now. It's alright, I just covered your tab. At least let me down for that." Begrudgingly, the Stranger complies and let's me down. "Thanks. You said you've been here since '99?"
"That's right."
"Just before the millennium or one of the '99's before that?"
"What?" The Stranger said, not at all understanding me. I wasn't sure I believed him being Jesus, but it was fun to play along with people like that. See how far I could take the story.
"Well, Jesus, certainly an immortal being like yourself could have come down at any '99, not just 1999. I was curious if you were here before then or not."
"No, it was 1999"
"Ah, then you would have missed it."
"Missed what?"
"A reason" I said, simply. I took another sip from my glass of wine. "You see, you've been going on and on about how you can't find a reason to save humanity, to start the rapture, when after all this time, the reason you're looking for is right here." As I say this, I gesture to my friend, Aiden.
"Me?" Aiden says, surprised.
Now it was the Stranger's turn to laugh. "You're telling me." The Stranger said between breaths. "This drunk here is the reason we should save all of humanity?"
"Yup" I again said simply.
The Stranger keels over in laughter at this, no longer able to control his laughter. I give him time to catch his breath continuing to sip my wine. "Alright, I'll bite. What did he do to save all of humanity?"
I smile contently at my drink. "Aiden, do you remember what you did? Exactly 20 years ago?"
Aiden looks as though the question was requiring all of his latent mental capacity to comprehend. "We were still in school, right? Yeah. But I don't know what I did."
"Exactly" I said. "You didn't do it because you had to, or were obligated. You did it because that was, that is who you are. 20 years ago, we were in school together, trying to become lawyers. We wanted to fight for the law, bring justice to criminals, all that idealistic crap. But my mom had just diagnosed with cancer and I was trying to help her pay bills and nothing was working out. I lost out on time to fulfill classwork and started to fall behind. My professors warned me if things didn't change I would flunk out. After a while, my mom stopped chemo so she wouldn't burden me with debt. She wanted me to live my life the way I wanted. Not trying to pay off something that wouldn't save her. I pleaded with her to keep fighting. But her mind was made up and she passed away soon after. But it was too late, my classwork became too much to make up and I flunked out of school and had nothing to my name. That night, I went to the cathedral and pleaded with God to understand why I was meant to suffer through this. He didn't give me an answer, as I expected. So I went to the roof of the tallest building on campus and looked out at the city. It was a pretty view, lights shining like a galaxy of stars, brimming with life and activity. None of them knowing what I was about to do. But, the moment I stepped closer to the ledge, Aiden came out on the roof with a six pack."
"Oh yeah! I knew you must've been having a tough time and just thought it would cheer you up." Aiden chimed in, sheepishly.
"It did. More than you know. You offered me a drink and we sat on that roof till the sun came up talking about everything from politics to religion. You even let me cry into your shoulder for an hour while I remembered my mom. Aiden." I looked my friend dead in the eye. "You saved my life that night. I had lost everything I wanted to live for, and you showed me what else there was to live for."
Aiden began to blush, not knowing how to react to such news. "I was just helping you out."
"There's no need to be modest, Aiden." I said. "You did an incredible thing that night. And it is proof that humanity is worth saving. Because if Aiden hadn't done that, Jesus." I turn to look at the Stranger again. "I couldn't have covered your tab. You see, humanity's worth is difficult to discern. There are certainly evil people out there. Many of whom need to suffer to atone for their sins. But we must be willing and able to forgive them for those actions as well or else no good will come from their suffering. If someone is truly serious about changing themselves for the better, we need to give them second chances, no matter what they've done. What you've seen in your travels is no doubt tragic and heart breaking, but you walked up here thinking Aiden was nothing more than a drunk, when in fact, he is a hero. People need a chance. And when they get it, I'll be there to guide them home."
I reached into my pocket and gave the stranger a silver coin. "A close friend once gave that to me. I hope it shows that people can surprise you if you only give them a chance." I take my last sip of wine and address Aiden. "Ready to get out of here, Aiden?"
"Uh, yeah. Probably had too much to drink already." As we stand and walk out of the bar, Aiden staggering a little, the Stranger examines the coin and notices that it's written in Latin and has an engraving of Caesar on it. With a sudden dawning look of comprehension, he looks up to see me walk out the door bathed and disappearing into the light.
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I stare, for just a moment, before I groan, and plant my face in my hands. This god damn argument… and now some nutcase with...hows it called divine delusion? Is getting in. You know what, I’m done with this. “Every time! Every goddamn time.” This draws a sharp hey from the tattooed person. “Not christian, bloody rules don’t apply to me.” He tries to say something else and I raise my hand.
“Every time you wallow into your misery and ignore everything we achieved. We don’t need Big J to come back, we did well on our own! We slew one of the riders of the apocalypse….granted with the Anti Vaxxers Pestilence is riding again. But we did it. And don’t you start with our mistakes. Oh yeah, the world is so bad, this is only the most peaceful time we have ever lived in. And the amount of people living in absolute poverty has been falling since years! Yeah there are god damn nutcases, but we only know about them because humanity is more interconnected than ever! And you know what, if you want a reason.”
Now I turn the nutcase. “If you want your fucking reason, go outside and look at the first firefighter you see! He runs into a burning building to save a live. If you really are who you claim, then what have you done in the last I don’t know, 2000 years? Sat around? Did nothing?” I’m definitely ranting now...but I may have had a few bad days...specially with my apartment being without warm water and people taking forever to fix it.
“Oh wow. While you were lazing about with your daddy on cloud seven people have done more to help then you ever did! They saved the innocent, They protected the helpless! They fought against crime, genocide, and so much more! For every criminal there are ten good people trying their best to minimize the impact, and 90 more than just live their lives!” I take a deep breath. “You want a reason to come back, how about you give us a reason why we should WANT you back.” Without waiting for the answer i turn around and leave the bar. I’ll pay tomorrow, Tom behind the counter knows me. Probably a hefty tip...got a bit loud there….definitely need to apologize...but it was kinda cathartic.
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[WP] You're having a discussion with your friend about Christianity in a dingy bar. "Jesus is never coming back", the friend exclaims, "besides, why would he save us?". In the corner, a bearded, tattooed man stands up. "I've been here since '99", Jesus epxlains. "I've been looking for a reason too".
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Our burly new friend carried three pints over to us, holding them steady in his massive hands. Towering above us, our buddy Jesus stood at about seven feet, give or take a few inches. A massive beard that any man could be envious of, and billowing golden locks being halo'd by an overhead light left me one thought as the son of God smiled and handed me my beer.
Well, God damn.
As he and James continued their discussion on how the political climate during his hay-day caused massive disconnect on the teachings in his original pamphlet, and how he also hated how they stripped the ease and convenient nature of his much shorter original piece.
"This 'Bible' thing is just too damn long!" He exclaimed as he and James continued on. I hadn't contributed much to the conversation, as I was never really good with the crazy and random encounters of the city that James was accustomed to, and choose instead to study this new stranger he has managed to magnetize.
Despite his height and stature, "Jesus" wasn't physically imposing. Well toned and muscular, but not so much so to offset how truly lanky he was due to his height. His face was handsome and weathered, but contained a softness and a youthful complexion. He was clad in a black, sleeveless jacket and ripped denim pants, allowing me to see enough of his skin to see that it was all a collage of ink and color.
The only truly "strange" thing about new-guy Jesus, was his appalling lack of shoes or socks in public, which made me feel both uncomfortable keeping my legs underneath the table and sick to my stomach, upon examining the sticky and stained floor.
As their ramblings continued, I grew tired of our unwanted and unexpected company, and decide it's time I start throwing around my two cents to move this bum along.
"So I slowed my heart to a near stop so I wouldn't bleed out, got dumped in the cave. Bam. Three days later my bandages had bound well enough I could walk back out there and surprise those clowns!" J-man and James tap their pints and drink to that, as apparently the story I had zoned out on was a damn good biblical drinking story.
"So, if they added this and that and butchered your work, why not come back and fix that? What was lost in translation then?" I asked him flat, to really push the fact I was coming for the throat. James's smile pulled back, as he probably recognized the tone as a sign I had enough of this.
"Well, Sarah, happy you're finally joining in the convo," Hey-Zues said as he turned his attention to me, "and coming in with the hard hitting questions, just what I'd expect from a journalist like you."
None of us said what we do for a living, and my brows furough and mouth opens to reject, but he continues on.
"I do not control when my energy forms into this man, I can not choose to be Jesus, just as you could not stop yourself from being Sarah. Instead, I was subjected to watch, and live life, and die alongside of you in many forms. I watched as my message and meanings strayed from their original path. As a bird or bug or flower, it means little to see things change and instead focus on just, being, becomes your lesson. Maybe a little sunflower would help that cloudy disposition!" He laughed and slogged back more beer...that suspiciously hadn't moved down the glass since he brought it over despite his sips. I was lost for words, but only because there were thousands of them flying through my head at the moment.
"What was it then, "Jesus," what was your original message? Is it so powerful it can redeem all the damage done by the monster it created? The wars, the genocides, the bullshit--what's your justification Mr. Energy?" My mental bubble had burst, and with my face red and hands trembling, I spit my questions at him.
For the first time, I saw his face drop a little, to show just the crack of a sad man. It quickly returned to a flat expression, his eyes looking off between James and I, empty, as his hands went up and he leaned back as if to gesture for me to chill. He then shrugged and pudge'd his cheeks, materializing a Bible from his back pocket, laying it on the table.
"Look, I'm not happy about it. It sorta' sucks that none of you guys get it, but that's the beauty of humanity. It destroys and creates, destroys and creates, and so on and so forth with anything it can touch. I knew it wasn't going to be perfect, but ya'll did a number on this." He tapped the leather bound book with his similarly colored finger tips, one of the few parts of his skin not colored past it's natural hue, and smiled again.
"So here's what I'll do, I'll show you what the source material is, and you tell me what you think!" He exclaimed, now beaming as he was before. From behind his back, he materializes a highlighter and black sharpy, and I become suspicious of wether or not he's hiding a fanny-pack.
He begins tearing chunks out of the book, casting them to the sky, to the gasps and stone cold looks of the patrons around us. One guy in all black with a pentagram t-shirt walks by and throws up the "horns" hand-sign, and he winks and finger guns him back, and I must have looked shocked as he chortles when he looks up at me for a second.
"What? Same coin, different sides, can't be mad at it." Jesus says as he goes back to work butchering the Bible, that was already a butchered version of his work.
I'm starting to feel like I've lost all footing in the situation, ready to retreat out of the bar, when he closes the book and slides it over to James and I.
"Read it if you want, but I recommend small, thoughtful doses. Too much might blow your brain, pretty literally too." He smiled as he drank his pint, this time the liquid truly emptying as he went.
"Will you leave us alone after this?" I say, hoping this is his last pitch.
"If you don't like it, I'll leave, tail between my legs." He shrugs, and smiles a devilish smile at us, which was both sweetly, sincere and devilishly unnerving.
I open the sad, destroyed book, now maybe five percent it's original thickness. Highlighted passages and anecdotes mark every page, with some passages completely blacked out. James leans in, and we both begin pouring over the pages. Slowly at first, but as the information was understood, my heart began pounding and my eyes raced as I flicked page to page. We were both so enthralled, we hadn't noticed Jesus reach over to close it, retiring it back into his tiny pocket dimenssion. I let out the only thing my mouth could utter.
"Jesus Christ."
"My friends call me Muhhamed, actually." He smiled back.
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I stare, for just a moment, before I groan, and plant my face in my hands. This god damn argument… and now some nutcase with...hows it called divine delusion? Is getting in. You know what, I’m done with this. “Every time! Every goddamn time.” This draws a sharp hey from the tattooed person. “Not christian, bloody rules don’t apply to me.” He tries to say something else and I raise my hand.
“Every time you wallow into your misery and ignore everything we achieved. We don’t need Big J to come back, we did well on our own! We slew one of the riders of the apocalypse….granted with the Anti Vaxxers Pestilence is riding again. But we did it. And don’t you start with our mistakes. Oh yeah, the world is so bad, this is only the most peaceful time we have ever lived in. And the amount of people living in absolute poverty has been falling since years! Yeah there are god damn nutcases, but we only know about them because humanity is more interconnected than ever! And you know what, if you want a reason.”
Now I turn the nutcase. “If you want your fucking reason, go outside and look at the first firefighter you see! He runs into a burning building to save a live. If you really are who you claim, then what have you done in the last I don’t know, 2000 years? Sat around? Did nothing?” I’m definitely ranting now...but I may have had a few bad days...specially with my apartment being without warm water and people taking forever to fix it.
“Oh wow. While you were lazing about with your daddy on cloud seven people have done more to help then you ever did! They saved the innocent, They protected the helpless! They fought against crime, genocide, and so much more! For every criminal there are ten good people trying their best to minimize the impact, and 90 more than just live their lives!” I take a deep breath. “You want a reason to come back, how about you give us a reason why we should WANT you back.” Without waiting for the answer i turn around and leave the bar. I’ll pay tomorrow, Tom behind the counter knows me. Probably a hefty tip...got a bit loud there….definitely need to apologize...but it was kinda cathartic.
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[WP] You're having a discussion with your friend about Christianity in a dingy bar. "Jesus is never coming back", the friend exclaims, "besides, why would he save us?". In the corner, a bearded, tattooed man stands up. "I've been here since '99", Jesus epxlains. "I've been looking for a reason too".
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"Haha, yeah, sure", I replied, "and you are another of those self-proclaimed prophets that are running around, right?"
"Well, while it's true there are some, I'm actually the real one, so I can understand your lack of faith, though I need to say it does still not quite please me. Barman, one large glass of water please!"
"Yeah you see, why would anyone truly believe that Jesus would come back, with what's going on. Wars driven by religious beliefs, all the scandals around the christian church, everything pretty much
being ruled by major companies... There really isn't much for a reason to get us all out of here" my friend explained.
"This is the exact reason we are having hearings for everybody. And believe me, it's not easy with you guys breeding so much. And our standards for letting
people through has fallen quite a bit with how you keep behaving. At least some of you see and regret, so we can put you on probation."
"Sure, whatever"
In the meantime, the bartender put a glass of water in front of us, just how that crazy guy demanded. Jesus moved the glass a bit, so we all had a good angle on it.
He then grinned at us for a bit, and snipped at the side of that one liter glass.
We couldn't quite grasp as first what happened. It was like a drop of intensive food coloring dropping into a bowl, slowly forming a cloud of color inside the water
and eventually turning the whole content of the glass dark red. Just that he didn't drop anything into it.
He snipped _the side_ of the glass.
Mine and my friends jaws dropped. _How did he just do that?_
"The oldest trick in the book", he laughed, "gets 'em every time!"
"How did you just do that?"
"Oh, quite simple, you see I just need to manipulate the general structure of the atoms, moving around a few protons and electrons here and there and voilà!
Turned it into red wine!"
"Wait, you are mocking us, aren't you", my friend responded", you are just working together with the bartender, getting yourself back a few bucks with your
so called 'magic tricks'. I bet this is just another of those simple tricks, like the self-freezing coke-bottles you can get at some soda machines."
"You really have no faith anymore these days".
He was visibly disappointed. It seems people getting a hang of simple tricks really made everyone quite resilient of wonders, If you may call them that.
"You know, I have been here a couple of times already, looking if it's worth getting you all your free tickets to heaven, but It's never been worth it.
First I came back after about 300 years, I thought it would be easy, since Constantine made Christianity relevant finally, but they just deemed me a crazy imbecile and put me down,
just like the romans already had before. About 500 years later they thought I'm a witch and they burned me. Well they _thought_ they burned me, but I just had enough of it and went back up.
Next time I came back was in 1340. Bad idea. Black Death got me. Didn't even get to put in some wonders.
After that I took some time off. Was thinking about going back, but in the 1900s you suddenly started wars everywhere. Needless to say, nobody quite approved of that.
And don't get me started on your bandwidth of religions. They are all the same in their cores, but yet you guys still make a fuss of it, misinterpreting what I've told you,
killing people over it and generally doing everything you should _NOT_ do.
But they said I should come back again and see with my own eyes instead of blindly trusting my couriers.
So here I am now, I thought a new millenium was a good time to pay you folks another visit. Doesn't look good so far, I have to say, but your sense of entertainment really has improved.
Visited a strip club the other day and it _was_ fun. Tipped that hooker some bucks, she deserved it."
"Cool story and all", I reply, "but maybe It's just you having a few beers too many tonight, don't you think? Besides, why wold Jesus visit a strip club?
Isn't there some line in the bible that strongly prohibits this or something related to it? You are making yourself look like a big idiot right now".
He pulled back his sleeves, showing his palms as a reply. "I guess these aren't enough either to convince you, are they?"
He showed us two scars, one on each hand respectively. He than took off his shoes, revealing another two scars on his feet, each looking as someone
shot nails through them. And those weren't small nails.
"You know, you are not exacly helping me decide right now."
"So, can't you just prove yourself? That really shouldn't be that difficult."
"Well then, come with me"
We went outside to a small river nearby.
Actually, rather a small creek that passes our city. We went to a spot where it'd fill up to a little pond, and we stopped at the edge.
"I'll just need a small bit of faith of you guys now, can you tell me how religious you two are?"
"I'm not sure, I'm baptized and I actually went to church sometimes..." my friend hesitated to answer.
"So, what about you?"
"Uhh, I guess there is _something_ that had played a role in about how evolution happened and everything, but I-"
He took each of us by an arm before I had finished my answer and pulled us onto the pond. I tried to free myself of his grasp, but he was just _too damn strong_.
I prepared myself getting wet, but as I stumbled forwards my feet caught me.
I was standing on solid ground, at least I thought I did. It was like a pane of glass lying right below the surface of the water, but as I reached down, my hand could go past it,
even enabling me touching the soles of my shoes. I couldn't quite comprehend what I was witnessing.
"I cannot believe i-" I tried to say as the pane magically disappeared, dropping me into the 50cm deep water.
"You didn't need much faith to perform this with me, but you failed on even that" Jesus sighed.
He pulled himself and my friend off the water, then me out of it. To my surprise, I wasnt wet at all.
"Do you now believe me?", Jesus asked. "I didn't plan of showing this to two random people I met at a bar, but there wasn't really anyone worthy before.
Priests? Only want money for minimal effort. Old people who go to church daily? Fear of their death, while they could be just fine if they lived a good life.
So here we are, I really got tired of it. What do you say? Do you believe me and the cause I represent?"
My friend, still baffled and speechless, just nodded absently.
"Uhh, well, I do think so, yes" I replied, still not quite being able to understand what and _how_ it happened.
"So it is decided. I name you the first of my new twelve apostles. So please tell me your names".
"I'm Andrew", my friend said quietly.
"I'm Peter", I replied.
"Well, isn't that a surprise. I think you two are made for this job".
He had a smile on his face and he seemed the happiest he's ever been.
"So come forth", he nodded,
"_we have humanity to save!_"
Note: First time I'm writing one of those, I hope you enjoyed :)
Also, let me know how I can improve my formatting, thanks :)
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I stare, for just a moment, before I groan, and plant my face in my hands. This god damn argument… and now some nutcase with...hows it called divine delusion? Is getting in. You know what, I’m done with this. “Every time! Every goddamn time.” This draws a sharp hey from the tattooed person. “Not christian, bloody rules don’t apply to me.” He tries to say something else and I raise my hand.
“Every time you wallow into your misery and ignore everything we achieved. We don’t need Big J to come back, we did well on our own! We slew one of the riders of the apocalypse….granted with the Anti Vaxxers Pestilence is riding again. But we did it. And don’t you start with our mistakes. Oh yeah, the world is so bad, this is only the most peaceful time we have ever lived in. And the amount of people living in absolute poverty has been falling since years! Yeah there are god damn nutcases, but we only know about them because humanity is more interconnected than ever! And you know what, if you want a reason.”
Now I turn the nutcase. “If you want your fucking reason, go outside and look at the first firefighter you see! He runs into a burning building to save a live. If you really are who you claim, then what have you done in the last I don’t know, 2000 years? Sat around? Did nothing?” I’m definitely ranting now...but I may have had a few bad days...specially with my apartment being without warm water and people taking forever to fix it.
“Oh wow. While you were lazing about with your daddy on cloud seven people have done more to help then you ever did! They saved the innocent, They protected the helpless! They fought against crime, genocide, and so much more! For every criminal there are ten good people trying their best to minimize the impact, and 90 more than just live their lives!” I take a deep breath. “You want a reason to come back, how about you give us a reason why we should WANT you back.” Without waiting for the answer i turn around and leave the bar. I’ll pay tomorrow, Tom behind the counter knows me. Probably a hefty tip...got a bit loud there….definitely need to apologize...but it was kinda cathartic.
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[WP] You're a retired supervillain whos just trying to live a normal life, however the heroes still come to stop you in everyday situations.
|
The spotlight centers on me, bathing me in its brilliant light. All around me I see darkness, as my eyes adjust to the intensity.
As my vision clears, I see the faces of the people in attendance. Over twenty thousand people, waiting for me.
I clear my throat, making sure the microphone attached to my ear is on. I adjust my tie. Check the cuffs of my suit.
I look up at the crowd, the air still as everyone waits in anticipation.
"We did it."
The crowd below me cheers. I let out a laugh, as the lights on stage flick on and the spotlight follows my path across the top of it. I stop in front of the car, it's neon headlights flickering on as I cross its sight.
"Together, we have successfully created the first ever, fully autonomous car!"
The crowd goes wild. A few even start whistling. I take out the keys, clicking the button as I step to the side of the car. The lights flash, and the door swings open.
Out steps our demonstration model. Beach blonde, tan skinned. Her legs long enough to reach the heavens. I hear a few catcalls from the crowd, as she takes a bow.
"Tonight, for the first time ever, we'll be showcasing the abilities of our brand new model! Live on television, broadcasted to the public!"
More cheers, as I raise my arms, urging the crowd on. The model next to me gesturing to the car, drawing the crowds attention to its sleek design.
Suddenly, I hear a crash, as out of the corner of my eye I see movement to the side of the stage. Bricks fly past me, as the crowd collectively gasps in shock, some of the people within crying out in fear.
I see a figure, walking out of the dust.
It's Wonderman.
I groan, as I look at the face of my ex-rival.
He clears the space between us in less than a second, using his power of superspeed.
He punches me in the stomach, hard. The microphone attached to my ear picking up my gasp of pain and transmitting it to the twenty-thousand people in attendance. My feet lift off the ground from the sheer force of his punch.
"What's the big idea, Doomguy? What are you planning to do with all these people?" he asks, as my knees buckle underneath me.
I've gotten soft in my retirement. I used to be able to take at *least* another punch before falling.
I gasp for air, trying to catch my breath. I put up a finger, asking for him to wait.
I look up, seeing his fist wound back and aimed for my head.
Most of the crowd around us have fled in fear, not knowing that their 'hero' is the cause of this panic. Some have stayed, though, having recognized the being before them.
"What do you mean? My 'plan' was to unveil the new model!" I say, as I gesture towards the car.
Wonderman glances at it, before turning back to me. His mouth turned down in a scowl.
"Nice trick, Doomguy. Does it have a bomb in it? Some other complex device that's supposed to scare me?"
"It fucking drives itself, you idiot! I retired five years ago!" I say, as I get up on one knee.
Wonderman grabs the collar of my suit, lifting me off the ground in order look me in the eyes.
"What's your play?" he asks me, his breath washing over my face.
He needs a mint.
"My 'play', is to give the people fucking self-driving cars, you idiot! What was I supposed to do when I retired, huh? Just let my genius go to waste?"
He lowered me a bit, as he turned to stare at the car again. Our model was leaning against it, looking both frightened and starstruck as she waved to Wonderman.
He lowered me back to the ground, confusion painted on his flawless face.
"What?" he asks me, confused.
"I make cars now, Wonderman." I tell him, as I smoothed out my suit. "No more evil stuff. No more big plots to take over the world. Cars are more profitable, anyways."
"But... Why?" he asks, as he scratched his head.
I sigh, as I pinch the bridge of my nose, not really wanting to have this conversation with him on live television.
"You remember my partner?" I ask him, as I crossed my arms.
"Oh, yeah. Doomgirl, right?" he says, as he nods his head.
"Yeah, her. She was in a car accident. About five years ago. Some drunk driver hit into her."
I could see Wonderman's face change, sadness washing over his flawless features, as he thought back to all the memories he had of fighting against her.
"Oh, man... I'm so sorry, I didn't know..."
"It's alright. Not your fault." I say, as I look back to my car.
"It woke me up, though. Made me realize that this world has enough evil in it. That I could still take it over, but this time, by making it a better place."
"Starting with this."
r/DoopleWrites
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I wake up and wet stench on my pillow is proof of life. I rub the sleep out of my eyes before I get up to the restroom. I place toothpaste on the brush, wet the combination, and begin to brush my teeth, only before I can begin, the toothbrush is knocked out of my hand.
"Not on my watch." a caped crusader announces.
I groan. "For the love of god, leave me alone already, please."
I give up on brushing my teeth. It's not worth the hassle.
I pull down my pants and sit on the toilet. A few minutes of flipping through my phone and the urge finally comes to a breaking point.
"Here we go." I whisper to myself in delight.
"Not on my watch." a tiny, caped crusader announces as he flies upward and pushes the fecal matter back into my rectum.
"Jesus, fucking christ!" I scream. Leave me the fuck alone. "I'm not the bad guy anymore! I think it's pretty safe to say that all you assholes are the villains at this point."
Nobody answers. But I am certain some of them are watching. Waiting to foil my plans, no matter how mundane they are, no matter how necessary.
I waddle to the kitchen, my rectum a little fuller than it should be, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. The spoon, just about to touch my lips, gets knocked out of my hand only to be followed by, "Not on my watch." the source of my annoyance unseen. "How many invisible superheros are there out there?" I ask myself, "I guess we'll never really know." I answer myself.
We're not born bad. We can't be. Sometimes people push us to be bad. And sometimes, they simply push too far.
\*Cue villainy music\*
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[WP] You're a retired supervillain whos just trying to live a normal life, however the heroes still come to stop you in everyday situations.
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"Did you find everything okay?"
&#x200B;
"Yes. I also wanted to use this...oh, wait."
&#x200B;
"What?"
&#x200B;
"I'm sorry, I just noticed that--"
&#x200B;
I'm interrupted by the noise of a hole being punched through the ceiling. From the outside.
&#x200B;
"What the fuck??" the cashier asks.
&#x200B;
"Oh, Christ." I brace myself for what's about to come.
&#x200B;
"HALT, VILLAIN," commands a deep voice. Through the new building code violation descends a spandex-clad...well, back when I was in the business, I would call them "heroes" with as much sarcasm as I could possibly muster. These days, I just call them motherfuckers.
&#x200B;
So this motherfucker comes down through the hole he punched in the ceiling. People are pointing, oohing and aahing, and some are yelling "WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO THE FUCKING ROOF". Those are the smart ones.
&#x200B;
The motherfucker points an accusing finger at me. "Doctor Nefarious!" he calls out to me. "Did you really think you were going to get away with it?"
&#x200B;
"Okay, first of all," I say, "until I can get my name legally changed back to Stevens, I'd appreciate it if you could just call me John. Secondly, I was just about to--"
&#x200B;
"Purchase groceries with a coupon?" he says smugly. "A coupon that we both know is *three days expired*??"
&#x200B;
"I noticed it just now," I admit. "But I am kind of curious why *you* know that."
&#x200B;
"SERIOUSLY," shouts the cashier, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!?"
&#x200B;
"What's going *on*," says the motherfucker, "is that Doctor Nefarious is checking out *early*."
&#x200B;
"What? This isn't a hotel. Have they lowered the bar for one-liners?"
&#x200B;
"Enough of your mind games. You're coming with me!"
&#x200B;
The motherfucker swoops down and grabs me, and shoots upwards with me in his arms, creating a second hole in the ceiling. I sigh, resigning myself to my fate.
&#x200B;
It's every fucking day with these motherfuckers.
|
I wake up and wet stench on my pillow is proof of life. I rub the sleep out of my eyes before I get up to the restroom. I place toothpaste on the brush, wet the combination, and begin to brush my teeth, only before I can begin, the toothbrush is knocked out of my hand.
"Not on my watch." a caped crusader announces.
I groan. "For the love of god, leave me alone already, please."
I give up on brushing my teeth. It's not worth the hassle.
I pull down my pants and sit on the toilet. A few minutes of flipping through my phone and the urge finally comes to a breaking point.
"Here we go." I whisper to myself in delight.
"Not on my watch." a tiny, caped crusader announces as he flies upward and pushes the fecal matter back into my rectum.
"Jesus, fucking christ!" I scream. Leave me the fuck alone. "I'm not the bad guy anymore! I think it's pretty safe to say that all you assholes are the villains at this point."
Nobody answers. But I am certain some of them are watching. Waiting to foil my plans, no matter how mundane they are, no matter how necessary.
I waddle to the kitchen, my rectum a little fuller than it should be, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. The spoon, just about to touch my lips, gets knocked out of my hand only to be followed by, "Not on my watch." the source of my annoyance unseen. "How many invisible superheros are there out there?" I ask myself, "I guess we'll never really know." I answer myself.
We're not born bad. We can't be. Sometimes people push us to be bad. And sometimes, they simply push too far.
\*Cue villainy music\*
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[WP] You're a retired supervillain whos just trying to live a normal life, however the heroes still come to stop you in everyday situations.
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I gave it up ages ago.
I mean we all make mistakes right? Like kill a couple innocents or level a city or two. What i'm trying to say is that it had been another life and another time and somewhere along the line I just got tired of it all.
Nowadays I try to get my coffee and some asshole in spandex comes to knock it out of my hands like someone is going to pop out of the bushes and interview him about how he "defeated" me.
I think after the fifth time it stopped being annoying and became borderline enraging. But i've found a life that is worth it to me and I wouldn't have thrown it all away for some kids with powers. Sometimes all you need to do is keep your head up, even if the world is deadset on knocking it back down.
That day had been different, instead of some young girl or guy - my old enemy Multiman appeared in front of me.
I felt the rage rise at the sight of his smile, but then it came to pass and instead I smiled back.
"Hey. You here to stop me from getting my groceries?"
"No... it's not like that. Look, without you it's getting really hard to get out of bed and put on this suit."
Both of our smiles had faded and awkwardness flailed around in the air like a drowning kid at the community pool.
"You mean that?"
His hair had turned grey since the last time we saw each other, and his once smooth face now bore the weight of a million fights.
"Yes, these new guys they all fight just to be evil, they have no master plan is what i'm trying to say"
"Can you blame them? You heroes tend to come in and ruin any sort of plan before they can even get go- I mean before they hatch."
If you could have seen us in that moment, you would have never thought we once clashed like titans over cities all over the globe. You would simply see two older men walking together.
Maybe that's what we should have been all along.
But my thoughts were interrupted by Multiman's hand on my shoulder with a surprisingly heavy grip.
"Look, I know the new guys give you lots of trouble... so how about the next time they try something stupid both me and you can show them not to mess with the dinosaurs that made their world possible."
He laughed, and it occurred to me that I had never heard him laugh quite like that.
In my mind I remembered all the pain I had caused him, all the lives I had torn from his grasp and I thought I would see the embers of his hatred for me but within the softest shades of blue I had ever seen all I saw was the desperate desire from one soul to bond with another.
Looking back now, I hadn't realized it then or when I said goodbye to him on his deathbed a year after but I know now within my heart one thing,
I have lived a better life for having had him within it.
|
I wake up and wet stench on my pillow is proof of life. I rub the sleep out of my eyes before I get up to the restroom. I place toothpaste on the brush, wet the combination, and begin to brush my teeth, only before I can begin, the toothbrush is knocked out of my hand.
"Not on my watch." a caped crusader announces.
I groan. "For the love of god, leave me alone already, please."
I give up on brushing my teeth. It's not worth the hassle.
I pull down my pants and sit on the toilet. A few minutes of flipping through my phone and the urge finally comes to a breaking point.
"Here we go." I whisper to myself in delight.
"Not on my watch." a tiny, caped crusader announces as he flies upward and pushes the fecal matter back into my rectum.
"Jesus, fucking christ!" I scream. Leave me the fuck alone. "I'm not the bad guy anymore! I think it's pretty safe to say that all you assholes are the villains at this point."
Nobody answers. But I am certain some of them are watching. Waiting to foil my plans, no matter how mundane they are, no matter how necessary.
I waddle to the kitchen, my rectum a little fuller than it should be, and pour myself a bowl of cereal. The spoon, just about to touch my lips, gets knocked out of my hand only to be followed by, "Not on my watch." the source of my annoyance unseen. "How many invisible superheros are there out there?" I ask myself, "I guess we'll never really know." I answer myself.
We're not born bad. We can't be. Sometimes people push us to be bad. And sometimes, they simply push too far.
\*Cue villainy music\*
|
|
[WP] You're a retired supervillain whos just trying to live a normal life, however the heroes still come to stop you in everyday situations.
|
I gave it up ages ago.
I mean we all make mistakes right? Like kill a couple innocents or level a city or two. What i'm trying to say is that it had been another life and another time and somewhere along the line I just got tired of it all.
Nowadays I try to get my coffee and some asshole in spandex comes to knock it out of my hands like someone is going to pop out of the bushes and interview him about how he "defeated" me.
I think after the fifth time it stopped being annoying and became borderline enraging. But i've found a life that is worth it to me and I wouldn't have thrown it all away for some kids with powers. Sometimes all you need to do is keep your head up, even if the world is deadset on knocking it back down.
That day had been different, instead of some young girl or guy - my old enemy Multiman appeared in front of me.
I felt the rage rise at the sight of his smile, but then it came to pass and instead I smiled back.
"Hey. You here to stop me from getting my groceries?"
"No... it's not like that. Look, without you it's getting really hard to get out of bed and put on this suit."
Both of our smiles had faded and awkwardness flailed around in the air like a drowning kid at the community pool.
"You mean that?"
His hair had turned grey since the last time we saw each other, and his once smooth face now bore the weight of a million fights.
"Yes, these new guys they all fight just to be evil, they have no master plan is what i'm trying to say"
"Can you blame them? You heroes tend to come in and ruin any sort of plan before they can even get go- I mean before they hatch."
If you could have seen us in that moment, you would have never thought we once clashed like titans over cities all over the globe. You would simply see two older men walking together.
Maybe that's what we should have been all along.
But my thoughts were interrupted by Multiman's hand on my shoulder with a surprisingly heavy grip.
"Look, I know the new guys give you lots of trouble... so how about the next time they try something stupid both me and you can show them not to mess with the dinosaurs that made their world possible."
He laughed, and it occurred to me that I had never heard him laugh quite like that.
In my mind I remembered all the pain I had caused him, all the lives I had torn from his grasp and I thought I would see the embers of his hatred for me but within the softest shades of blue I had ever seen all I saw was the desperate desire from one soul to bond with another.
Looking back now, I hadn't realized it then or when I said goodbye to him on his deathbed a year after but I know now within my heart one thing,
I have lived a better life for having had him within it.
|
Look, I get it, I was the super villain “Chameleon” and did some bad stuff. I remember my first crime, shoplifting a playboy magazine. I was 15. But that’s besides the point. I may have stolen over 25 million dollars in cash (successfully), I may have also stolen a military fighter jet that can camouflage so well it practically goes invisible (unsuccessfully), and I may have, well you get the point, I stole a lot. But I did my time. 20 years in correction camp. I was beaten, and locked in solitary. Not to mention another year in “House Arrest”. As a super villain I obviously didn’t have a home, but I guess as a prize for passing the camp I got a house (which is decent I guess, a nice 1500 square feet or about 140 square meters). I’m 44 now and I work as a teller now which I thought was ironic too. But I guess I can’t complain too much. This life is good and for the first few months it was basically paradise. But only for the first few months.
It always happens on Tuesdays. Some either rookie hero or a grandpa would barge inside the bank saying something like “Chameleon! It is I _____. You _______ and deserve justice!” You can fill in the blanks however you like, it’s all the same. They never listen to me either, and I can’t even call security because they’re “The heroes” and bring justice. It’s complete bull crap and it pisses me off. But at the end of the day I just tell them “buzz off” and do my job. After a few minutes they leave with their tighty-whities and go find something better to do. My co-workers Trish, DeMarco, and Tina just take pictures then laugh it off. At least they think of me as an actual human and not some tyrant.
It’s not only at work, but just out in the street. I could just be escorting an old woman across the street or giving someone a dropped item of theirs and a superhero would come and “Save the day” by arresting me and throwing me into jail just to be freed by the guard as soon as they leave. It’s not just me either. A lot of the older retired villains like Purge, Dark Web, and even my sidekick Dragonfly would be randomly harassed for no reason. Purge almost got sent back to the camp for ”Assault” even though it was more like self defense.
But honestly, that’s just life. Whether you’re being bothered by superheroes or by your boss or teacher or whatever. That’s just life. We’ve all come to accept our consequences and push on. We became better because we chose to do it. They could’ve tortured us till death but they decided to let us out. Because we changed, we matured and evolved and became better. It didn’t happen overnight. Maybe you should make a change, I dunno. Just know that there are good things out there worth changing for.
u/AquaBaka
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[WP] You live in a sealed luxury apartment. Every day you must step into a small room containing a gun, a prisoner in a chair, and a voice detailing their crimes. If you do not execute them you are held responsible for any future crimes they commit. Today you are given another option.
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I sat in my apartment overlooking the bay, sipping my morning tea. My apartment reflected my life, orderly, minimal, and cold. I say my apartment, but I really mean theirs...they owned this building, just as they did my life. I was in charge of a different life every day, and yet, I knew I couldn't make any in mine.
I owed them. It was almost 10 years ago that I stormed into this very building looking for my mother. It was in the room down the hall, the one in which I played God every afternoon that I found her strapped to a chair, blindfolded, and gagged with a gun to her head. It was there that I dropped to my knees, begging the executioner who server before me to please spare her life, and it was in that room that I wrestled his gun from him, and shot him. Soon after I had done so, the phone had rang, and a woman laid out my options. Either my mom would be executed, and I would be behind bars, or I could accept a position as an executioner that had opened up just a few minutes ago, and choose to pardon my mother. If I picked the latter, I would need to serve 8 years, a sentence that would grow with each person I pardoned who later would go on to again commit crimes.
At first, I tried pardoning them all...who wouldn't have? It was only for the special pieces of shit that I would make an exception. Rapists, child molestors, you know the types. In only 10 months of pardoning, I had racked up another 2 years of mandatory service. That's when my pardon rate decreased dramatically. Almost everyone was executed for their crimes. Besides, why was it up to me to show mercy? They were all guilty. I made the rare exception for a couple of individuals, but made sure to scare them shitless before I let them go, and for the last 8 years, I haven't had any additional charges added. I would actually be out of here in just a couple of months.
I had to stay emotionless on this job. I lost most of my humanity, but there was still a little part of me, hidden deeply way, that looked forward to normalcy. To holding my little sister, Elaine, and seeing how much she had grown. She was only 9, and I 17 when I had left.
I heard a buzz at my door. It was time. I walked down the hall into the judgement chamber. The door clicked behind me, and I looked across the room to my likely victim, and when I saw her, I froze.
*Mom*?
She was neither blindfolded nor gagged, like protocol required. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and the years had not treated her well.
*Why are you back here*?
She wouldn't look me in my eyes. The phone rang.
*The accused stands guilty of murder. She helped slaughter and dispose of a 19 year old girl.*
I slammed the phone down before being given my options.
*you had better start fucking talking, mom* I screamed
*i...it was Bobby, he got into an argument and...*
Her voice trailed off. Bobby, the same lowlife loser who had gotten her in here the first time, and she stayed with him???
*who* I asked
She looked up to me with pain in her eyes that sent chills down my spine. In the last 10 years, I had heard the worst of the worst horror stories imaginable, but nothing prepared me for this.
*Don't you fucking dare*
*She and Bobby got into an argument, and it was an accident, and she was just being so unreasonable, and...it was an accident!*
I grabbed the gun and ran over to her chair, holding it to her head, and dropping down to her face level
*you fucking killed my baby sister?* I sneered
She closed her eyes and began pleading that I let her off like last time. I didn't *have* to kill her, after all.
I began screaming at her that I had already sacrificed 10 years of my life for her, and she hadn't learned a thing. She hadn't changed. It was then that the phone rang again. I got up and grabbed it.
*what do you want?*
*Aren't you going to hear out your 3 options, Executioner?*
Three? What? I had only been given two options. Kill or forgive and screw myself over in the long run. What was the third option I had magically been granted?
*You can kill her, you can forgive her and take on an additional 15 years of servitude, or you can join your sister*
Join my sister?
It was then that I heard the sound of the security clasp on my gun power off. Decades ago, an executioner had taken his own life instead of playing the agencies stupid game, and since then, the guns had been modeled with a trigger switch that only activated when pointed away from the agent (I was injected with a some metal thing in my arm for it, I don't really remember the details).
*They want me to serve 15 more years for you* I told her coldy
*I..im so sorry, Anna, I promise Ill leave Bobby, Ill get my life together...you can come live with me when you get out again, it will be just like old times!*
*Except without Elaine, right?*
*oh..um...yeah*
Did she even fucking care?
*I gave up my life for you, mom. I did this so you could get a second chance. I killed EVERYONE, so I could get out of here as soon as possible and be with you and Elaine...I sacrificed EVERYTHING*
She began to mumble some piss poor excuse again.
*Shut the fuck up*
I could kill her right now, and be out of here in a few months, but what would I have to go back to? She and Elaine were all I had.
I could let her go, knowing she would lead the same shit excuse for a life, following around an abusive meth head...
Or I could retire.
I picked up the gun again and walked over to my mother.
*I'm not going to kill you, mom*
She took a big sigh of relief and began thanking me, but I interrupted her.
*I don't know what the agency is going to do with you, but I want you to know that you killed both of your daughters*
*both?* she looked up at me in horror as I raised the gun to my own head, clicked the safety, and blew the trigger.
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Daryl stepped out of the small, dim room and sighed. He closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten taking a breath at each number. He thought of the ritual as his last bit of humanity. He allowed himself a few seconds of regret after each kill just to feel normal again.
He tried to recall the feelings of the first time. The *wrongness* of willingly taking someone else's life paralyzed him. The hesitation almost cost him his own life, but an empty stomach has its own set of morals. After the first kill, he was rewarded with a meal. After that, the kills became easier and more rewarding.
After counting to ten, Daryl walked away from the closed door, not remotely concerned about the body he left behind. Every day the room was clean with a brand new, alive person sitting in a chair. They were always hooded and gagged. Occasionally drugged, Daryl guessed those were the more troublesome prisoners.
He paused at the entrance to the mudroom and smiled to himself. As far as he was concerned he had the ultimate life of leisure, the king bed-sized pit of moist soil in the center of the room was the height of entertainment. He could do whatever he wanted all day as long as he was in the room when they told him to be. Daryl did not know who *they* were, but he did not know who any of the victims were either. He did not really know anything about the world outside his apartment, and he didn't care to. His life was easy and he did not want it to get complicated. He padded to the mud pit and lay down in the center of it to log in.
Daryl spent the night and a good portion of the next day in the AlterNet, but *they* knew how to reach him there too. He got word it was time for the next kill and logged out. The same scene as always awaited him in the small room.
He opened the door and stepped into the dim, black room. The hunched over stranger, a woman, sat up. The black hood on her head swiveled left and right as she tried to get her bearings and her muffled voice tried to form words through the gag.
"This woman has committed no crimes," the usual, mysterious, male voice said. The woman frantically nodded her head while still trying to speak. The statement surprised Daryl, he'd grown accustomed to hearing long lists of horrid offenses. Daryl looked at the table and saw the usual gun there. He heard a sound and looked to the wall behind the woman. A door that he always knew was there, but never found, opened. "You have served us well, but your time has ended. You are free to go, she will take your place."
"What?" Daryl shouted. He assumed he'd live out the rest of his days in the apartment and he'd grown comfortable with the thought. "What if I don't want to?" The voice did not respond, it never talked to him. But Daryl still got an answer.
The dim lights in the room transitioned to a soft red color. Daryl called it the warning light, it was his captor's version of, "I'm going to count to five." He had a minute to do the thing they wanted him to do, or there would be consequences. Daryl sighed and stepped toward the new opening, but paused.
"*There can't be consequences if I"m free, right?"* he rationalized before stepping through the door. He remembered the gun on the table. "*Oh yeah, I guess they can if they tell her to shoot me.*" He turned to leave again. "*Unless...*"
Before he realized what he was doing he stood next to the woman with the gun pointed at her head. He looked around the room at all the cameras he knew were there, but could not see. He expected to hear the voice, but no one said anything. Daryl looked down at the gun in his hand.
This was different. They told him she was innocent. They did not tell him to kill her, they did not seem interested in stopping him. It was his choice to make, and he did.
"I'm sorry," he apologized to the stranger, then pulled the trigger.
The gun filled the quiet room with a loud click; it was empty.
"Congratulations. You're the sort of person we're looking for," the woman said then stood from the chair, and pulled her hood off at the same time.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #64. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
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[WP] You live in a sealed luxury apartment. Every day you must step into a small room containing a gun, a prisoner in a chair, and a voice detailing their crimes. If you do not execute them you are held responsible for any future crimes they commit. Today you are given another option.
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I sat in my apartment overlooking the bay, sipping my morning tea. My apartment reflected my life, orderly, minimal, and cold. I say my apartment, but I really mean theirs...they owned this building, just as they did my life. I was in charge of a different life every day, and yet, I knew I couldn't make any in mine.
I owed them. It was almost 10 years ago that I stormed into this very building looking for my mother. It was in the room down the hall, the one in which I played God every afternoon that I found her strapped to a chair, blindfolded, and gagged with a gun to her head. It was there that I dropped to my knees, begging the executioner who server before me to please spare her life, and it was in that room that I wrestled his gun from him, and shot him. Soon after I had done so, the phone had rang, and a woman laid out my options. Either my mom would be executed, and I would be behind bars, or I could accept a position as an executioner that had opened up just a few minutes ago, and choose to pardon my mother. If I picked the latter, I would need to serve 8 years, a sentence that would grow with each person I pardoned who later would go on to again commit crimes.
At first, I tried pardoning them all...who wouldn't have? It was only for the special pieces of shit that I would make an exception. Rapists, child molestors, you know the types. In only 10 months of pardoning, I had racked up another 2 years of mandatory service. That's when my pardon rate decreased dramatically. Almost everyone was executed for their crimes. Besides, why was it up to me to show mercy? They were all guilty. I made the rare exception for a couple of individuals, but made sure to scare them shitless before I let them go, and for the last 8 years, I haven't had any additional charges added. I would actually be out of here in just a couple of months.
I had to stay emotionless on this job. I lost most of my humanity, but there was still a little part of me, hidden deeply way, that looked forward to normalcy. To holding my little sister, Elaine, and seeing how much she had grown. She was only 9, and I 17 when I had left.
I heard a buzz at my door. It was time. I walked down the hall into the judgement chamber. The door clicked behind me, and I looked across the room to my likely victim, and when I saw her, I froze.
*Mom*?
She was neither blindfolded nor gagged, like protocol required. Her eyes were puffy from crying, and the years had not treated her well.
*Why are you back here*?
She wouldn't look me in my eyes. The phone rang.
*The accused stands guilty of murder. She helped slaughter and dispose of a 19 year old girl.*
I slammed the phone down before being given my options.
*you had better start fucking talking, mom* I screamed
*i...it was Bobby, he got into an argument and...*
Her voice trailed off. Bobby, the same lowlife loser who had gotten her in here the first time, and she stayed with him???
*who* I asked
She looked up to me with pain in her eyes that sent chills down my spine. In the last 10 years, I had heard the worst of the worst horror stories imaginable, but nothing prepared me for this.
*Don't you fucking dare*
*She and Bobby got into an argument, and it was an accident, and she was just being so unreasonable, and...it was an accident!*
I grabbed the gun and ran over to her chair, holding it to her head, and dropping down to her face level
*you fucking killed my baby sister?* I sneered
She closed her eyes and began pleading that I let her off like last time. I didn't *have* to kill her, after all.
I began screaming at her that I had already sacrificed 10 years of my life for her, and she hadn't learned a thing. She hadn't changed. It was then that the phone rang again. I got up and grabbed it.
*what do you want?*
*Aren't you going to hear out your 3 options, Executioner?*
Three? What? I had only been given two options. Kill or forgive and screw myself over in the long run. What was the third option I had magically been granted?
*You can kill her, you can forgive her and take on an additional 15 years of servitude, or you can join your sister*
Join my sister?
It was then that I heard the sound of the security clasp on my gun power off. Decades ago, an executioner had taken his own life instead of playing the agencies stupid game, and since then, the guns had been modeled with a trigger switch that only activated when pointed away from the agent (I was injected with a some metal thing in my arm for it, I don't really remember the details).
*They want me to serve 15 more years for you* I told her coldy
*I..im so sorry, Anna, I promise Ill leave Bobby, Ill get my life together...you can come live with me when you get out again, it will be just like old times!*
*Except without Elaine, right?*
*oh..um...yeah*
Did she even fucking care?
*I gave up my life for you, mom. I did this so you could get a second chance. I killed EVERYONE, so I could get out of here as soon as possible and be with you and Elaine...I sacrificed EVERYTHING*
She began to mumble some piss poor excuse again.
*Shut the fuck up*
I could kill her right now, and be out of here in a few months, but what would I have to go back to? She and Elaine were all I had.
I could let her go, knowing she would lead the same shit excuse for a life, following around an abusive meth head...
Or I could retire.
I picked up the gun again and walked over to my mother.
*I'm not going to kill you, mom*
She took a big sigh of relief and began thanking me, but I interrupted her.
*I don't know what the agency is going to do with you, but I want you to know that you killed both of your daughters*
*both?* she looked up at me in horror as I raised the gun to my own head, clicked the safety, and blew the trigger.
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"You should let me go," He said, sitting there, his hands bound behind his back. His ankles locked to the metal chair legs that were bolted down into the floor. His body seemed relaxed, other than the visibly unnatural position of being bound to a chair. His upper body wasn't stiff or rigid the way that some others had been. No crying or pleading or begging. His statement was short, simple, and one that I had heard hundreds of times before, but when he spoke I believed him and actually considered it. He'd given me no evidence at all and yet, I actually considered it.
"Why? Why would I do that? Then I'd be responsible for all the terrible things that you're going to do, lose this apartment, lose my incredible life! You're crazy," I barked back at him. If he thought I was a pushover, he was wrong. I'd been here for years and grown callous from my time as an executioner. I'm not ashamed to say that I even may have enjoyed it on a few occasions. The criminals with the truly despicable crimes made my role surprisingly easy at times. Murderer, bye. Rapist, I don't even hesitate. That's on one end of the spectrum. The other is shoplifters, trespassers, or even battery cases. The decision gets a lot more difficult not knowing the direction a person's life will take. Will they straighten up and get things together or did I just sign my death warrant.
My mind flashed back to Billy Warren, two counts of battery. The second one he really did a number on the guy. Billy was only 22 went he sent a fellow bar brawler to the hospital. The guy had to drink through a straw for three days because of what Billy did to him.
"Please, come on, let me go, I'll straighten up, I, I promise," Billy said as he sat in the same small room that my newest guest was in now. I looked into Billy's eyes, tried to determine whether he was telling the truth or not. Did Billy really change?
"I don't think you've changed Billy, I just think you don't want to die," I said and raised my weapon to him. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk the chance that Billy would get back on the street, in some bar, in some fight and send the next unlucky guy to look at him funny to meet his maker. That would be on me. His cursing tirade as I pulled the trigger reassured me that I'd made the right decision, but I did think about him from time to time. What if that was Billy's last fight? I mean, it was Billy's last fight, but what if he was never going to fight again? What good had I done myself or the rest of the world?
The current offender had a very different rap sheet. Bank robberies, car thefts, identity thefts, each new offense that boomed through the room was a new thrill, a new high that had been chased. After hearing some of the charges the criminal would smirk a little or let out a barely audible chuckle.
"Are you reminiscing?" I asked coldly, judging him as I listen to his crimes.
"Yeah, I am, that's a life you could live, you know," He looked around the tiny room, "don't you get tired of being stuffed up here in this prison?"
"It's not just this room," I say getting a little defensive. I can feel myself becoming flustered, I've never had a prisoner that's been this abrasive before, "there's a whole luxury apartment that I live in, I love my life."
He gives me a sarcastic look as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. Do I believe what I'm saying? I thought I did, but this prisoner has completely knocked me off balance.
"I get it, you think it's great and all that, but I guarantee it's way better out there," he motioned his head, the only thing he had free, towards the wall. There was no outside that could be seen, but I got the message. "I was you, this, THIS was my job and I was just like you. Coming into a small room, pulling a trigger and then ordering room service, as much as I could stuff in my face. And I'm telling you, this is not living, but out there, that's living. I'm not asking you to let me go and pay for my future sins. There's gonna be a lot, I guarantee it! I want you to come with me, escape this prison and start living for the first time in your life" he said.
I looked at him and knew that he was telling me the truth, at least to him it was. He didn't regret leaving behind his life as an executioner, not for a minute. I thought about what he was telling me, it's something that I had never truly considered. I never thought that there could be another path other than the one I was currently on. I thought about what he was saying, looked around the room and made my decision.
"I think I like my luxury apartment, and I don't need you running around out there messing things up," I said, raised my gun and completed my daily task.
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[WP] You live in a sealed luxury apartment. Every day you must step into a small room containing a gun, a prisoner in a chair, and a voice detailing their crimes. If you do not execute them you are held responsible for any future crimes they commit. Today you are given another option.
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Killing another human being had become second nature to Lucy. Her punishment was cruel and unusual to say the least, but Lucy thought it sounded like a pretty sweet alternative to serving five in federal.
Locked into a high rise apartment with all the modern comforts and tasty meals delivered thrice per day, she was originally to serve only a year here. Every day at noon she was forced into a room with a blindfolded person tied to a chair. Next to the person was a table with a phone and a loaded revolver. The phone would ring, a voice would list all of crimes committed by the restrained person, and Lucy was given a choice: shoot the person, or let them live. The ones who lived would be returned to society, and if they committed a crime again time would be added to Lucy’s time in the apartment.
At first the choice was easy, let them live and hope that they would not relapse, at least not before Lucy’s time was up. It seemed feasible, it was but a year.
&#x200B;
Two months into her punishment Lucy had already accrued six additional months to serve. This was when she first took the other option. It had been a bank robber who had robbed seven different banks in the state, killing three persons in a hostage situation that got out of hand, ending with his arrest. Lucy picked up the revolver. She had picked it up many times at this point, but had never been able to pull the trigger. She aimed at the blindfolded man, the gun felt heavier than normal. She took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
Lucy was a mess for weeks after that, letting all subjects live without even answering the phone. More crimes were committed, her time kept growing, one additional year after the next. Lucy knew this would not get better unless she did it again.
Killing a murderer is fine. Lucy knew this. These people had committed the worst crime possible and did not deserve to live. The bar was set, and no one who intentionally killed another person would leave the room breathing. Lucy felt an enormous relief when she realized that the rate of time gained decreased.
Still, she was not getting closer to freedom, quite the opposite. Her time to serve kept growing faster and faster.
She started recognizing some of the potential targets. They had been given a second chance, and wasted it. That had to be enough. No matter the crime, if Lucy recognized them she would shoot them. She would not even answer the phone if she didn’t remember their crimes last time. It was easier that way.
Lucy had finally reached a point where she was actually getting closer to getting out each day. According to her calculations, at the current rate should would not be out for another sixty-seven years, and she already had increased her time with way more than her original prison sentence was for.
For the past year Lucy had shot every person she met in the room. They were all criminals anyway, this had to be their punished. Lucy felt quite certain that the reason she had been put in this situation was for this very reason, these people had been chosen for execution.
&#x200B;
Until the day when the rules changed. Lucy entered the room as usual, sauntering towards the revolver, when she saw something she had not seen for almost two years. Another pair of eyes met hers. A young man was tied to the chair, a piece of duct tape covered his mouth, but he was not wearing a blindfold.
Lucy stared at the man in disbelief.
“What the fuck is going on?” Lucy asked the room.
The phone rang, Lucy picked it up.
“Lucy, we have a different deal for you today,” the familiar voice spoke to her. “This man has never committed a crime in his life. He works as a doctor. We have shown him videos of every execution you’ve done.”
“Why are you doing this? Why today?” Lucy shouted to the phone.
“The deal is as follows. Kill him, and you are free to go, today. Your punishment will be over. If you let him live, your punishment will continue as before. As long as *he* lets you live.”
“This is fucking insane! You put me in this situation, it was my only way out,” Lucy argued. There was no response.
Lucy picked up the revolver and aimed at the man. The man looked back at hear, his eyes wet with tears. Lucy’s index finger shook like the first time she fired the gun. She stood there for a few seconds, it felt like hours to Lucy.
She lowered her arm, put the gun down on the table and walked to the back of the chair and untied the knots.
“I had no other choice,” she pleaded.
“Neither do I,” responded the man as he got up, picked up the revolver and a fired a bullet into Lucy’s temple.
The man returned the revolver to the table. The phone rang again.
“Well done Michael” the voice on the other side said. “You have a choice. Do you want to serve your reduced sentence, now three years, in jail, or do you want to spend four months in this apartment? You’ll be locked in, but it will be very comfortable for you. We will only ask you to do one little thing every day.”
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"You should let me go," He said, sitting there, his hands bound behind his back. His ankles locked to the metal chair legs that were bolted down into the floor. His body seemed relaxed, other than the visibly unnatural position of being bound to a chair. His upper body wasn't stiff or rigid the way that some others had been. No crying or pleading or begging. His statement was short, simple, and one that I had heard hundreds of times before, but when he spoke I believed him and actually considered it. He'd given me no evidence at all and yet, I actually considered it.
"Why? Why would I do that? Then I'd be responsible for all the terrible things that you're going to do, lose this apartment, lose my incredible life! You're crazy," I barked back at him. If he thought I was a pushover, he was wrong. I'd been here for years and grown callous from my time as an executioner. I'm not ashamed to say that I even may have enjoyed it on a few occasions. The criminals with the truly despicable crimes made my role surprisingly easy at times. Murderer, bye. Rapist, I don't even hesitate. That's on one end of the spectrum. The other is shoplifters, trespassers, or even battery cases. The decision gets a lot more difficult not knowing the direction a person's life will take. Will they straighten up and get things together or did I just sign my death warrant.
My mind flashed back to Billy Warren, two counts of battery. The second one he really did a number on the guy. Billy was only 22 went he sent a fellow bar brawler to the hospital. The guy had to drink through a straw for three days because of what Billy did to him.
"Please, come on, let me go, I'll straighten up, I, I promise," Billy said as he sat in the same small room that my newest guest was in now. I looked into Billy's eyes, tried to determine whether he was telling the truth or not. Did Billy really change?
"I don't think you've changed Billy, I just think you don't want to die," I said and raised my weapon to him. I couldn't risk it. I couldn't risk the chance that Billy would get back on the street, in some bar, in some fight and send the next unlucky guy to look at him funny to meet his maker. That would be on me. His cursing tirade as I pulled the trigger reassured me that I'd made the right decision, but I did think about him from time to time. What if that was Billy's last fight? I mean, it was Billy's last fight, but what if he was never going to fight again? What good had I done myself or the rest of the world?
The current offender had a very different rap sheet. Bank robberies, car thefts, identity thefts, each new offense that boomed through the room was a new thrill, a new high that had been chased. After hearing some of the charges the criminal would smirk a little or let out a barely audible chuckle.
"Are you reminiscing?" I asked coldly, judging him as I listen to his crimes.
"Yeah, I am, that's a life you could live, you know," He looked around the tiny room, "don't you get tired of being stuffed up here in this prison?"
"It's not just this room," I say getting a little defensive. I can feel myself becoming flustered, I've never had a prisoner that's been this abrasive before, "there's a whole luxury apartment that I live in, I love my life."
He gives me a sarcastic look as if he doesn't believe what I'm saying. Do I believe what I'm saying? I thought I did, but this prisoner has completely knocked me off balance.
"I get it, you think it's great and all that, but I guarantee it's way better out there," he motioned his head, the only thing he had free, towards the wall. There was no outside that could be seen, but I got the message. "I was you, this, THIS was my job and I was just like you. Coming into a small room, pulling a trigger and then ordering room service, as much as I could stuff in my face. And I'm telling you, this is not living, but out there, that's living. I'm not asking you to let me go and pay for my future sins. There's gonna be a lot, I guarantee it! I want you to come with me, escape this prison and start living for the first time in your life" he said.
I looked at him and knew that he was telling me the truth, at least to him it was. He didn't regret leaving behind his life as an executioner, not for a minute. I thought about what he was telling me, it's something that I had never truly considered. I never thought that there could be another path other than the one I was currently on. I thought about what he was saying, looked around the room and made my decision.
"I think I like my luxury apartment, and I don't need you running around out there messing things up," I said, raised my gun and completed my daily task.
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[WP] When cleaning out a famous doctor's storage unit, you find an odd manual. "The Human Machine: Debug Commands & How to Enable Administrator Mode"
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I signed up to be Mr.Nolan's helper because I thought it would be a fun summer job. As an aspiring doctor myself, I thought about how amazing it would be to get actual experience learning from the legend himself. I simply couldn't contain myself once I found out that I was chosen, out of thousands of applicants, to work for Dr.Nolan over the summer.
Yet here I am, almost an entire month later, cleaning out his *closet* and doing petty chores for him while he's off performing on a live patient.
As I'm just about finished with my work cleaning out the storage unit, I realize the stupidity and irony of the situation I'm in. I realize how foolish I am to let myself be taken advantage of like this. And so, in this fit of rage, I decided, like any rational being would, to punch the wall as hard as I could.
Honestly, I don't know what I was expecting to happen. Maybe my hand would go straight through, maybe I would end up with a broken fist. But what I didn't expect, what I couldn't have thought of in a thousand years, was that a manual as thick as an encyclopedia would fall with a muffled *thunk* on my head.
Before I could fly into another senseless rage, I read the title of the book: "The Human Machine: Debug Commands & How to Enable Administrator Mode". Intrigued, I decided to meander through the book a bit, skimming the pages.
*Chapter 1: Re-Calibrating Vision*
*The Human Machine is quite a simple thing, and thus may constantly lose vision and need to be reset. To initiate a reset of a machine, rotate the head of the machine 180 degrees, from left shoulder to right shoulder. Immediately, place the smallest digit of the right hand under the machine's tongue, and press down for 5 seconds...*
Realizing, this must be a joke, I was about to put the manual away before I realized that there was about an hour before Nolan got home. I decided I'd try it out, just for the hell of it, and see what happens.
After performing the 'ritual', nothing happened, so I sighed and put the book away. It was stupid of me to think that Humans were some sort of machines created by some larger force.
As a strict rationalist, I chastised myself for being so stupid and falling for such a simple prank.
That, however, was earlier today, about 4 hours ago. And in 4 hours, I've realized that my glasses stopped working. Glasses that I've worn for 3 years have suddenly become useless, and I can see perfectly.
Maybe there's more to this 'manual' than I thought...
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As a kid, you always dream of being something, more. An astronaut, the president, anything. I never really dreamed of being a janitor, here I am. I sigh as I dip the mop back into the bucket. "What's it matter if this guy gets paid a gazillion dollars a year? I'm still just a dumbass janitor." I place the mop back in the bucket and sit back for a moment. I had mopped, remopped, and wiped down the entire unit. Yet I still felt unsatisfied. I sigh and began to wander the halls of the unit. The place was big. It felt almost too big. After circling the entire unit I returned to where I came from, to find a picket of white, sneaking out from under the seat. I grinned and snatched it out. Something about getting the last piece of trash at the end of a job was very satisfying. I flip it over to read the cover. 'The Human Machine: Debug Commands & How to Enable Administrator Mode'
I flip it open. Reading isn't my strong suit, so I skip ahead until I flip to a page with big bold letters sprawled across the top. COMMANDS AND ADMINISTRATOR MODE. What kind of manual is this? Who would spend there time on making this? I let my eyes move across the page.
1. REACH TO THE SCALP OF YOUR HEAD AND PRESS DOWN 3 TIMES.
I chuckle and move my hand to the top of my head and follow through. This must be a joke right? What the hell was this thing pulling here? I stop my thought short. Or, my voice stopped my voice short. "You have activated CHEATS_1, blink twice to continue." I blink as I'm told. "Confirmed."
What the hell? The voice, was my voice, but I wasn't controlling it. My eyes blazed with curiosity, I read the next step.
2. SAY "ACTIVATE ADMINISTRATOR MODE." THEN, BLINK TWICE."
With a shaky voice, I whisper out as I'm told.
"Activate Administrator mode."
A few seconds pass. "Granted, activating Administrator Mode. Press down on your 3 times to complete the process. " I reach to the top of my head, tap 3 times, then drop the pamphlet, shaking. The voice was gone. And I felt just the same. What. The. Fuck. I stumble to the ground, and close my eyes. My head throbbed with pain. When I open my eyes, I'm no longer in the warehouse. I look down and watched in horror as the ground scrambled toward me. I scream and flip my feet to the ground. The wind screams in my ear, then it stops to a halt. I open my eyes, and I am frozen above the air. I stay there for a few seconds, contemplating the last 5 minutes. I put my hand in to my face and chuckle. "I guess so." I say to the fields ahead before I fly towards the sky.
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[WP] You suffer from a terminal illness and have gone under cryopreservation to wait for the cure for said illness. You wake up, doctors smiling at you, and it’s only been 2 days.
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“Are you sure about this? We’ll have the treatment available as early as Monday, possibly sooner.” My doctor rests her hand on my shoulder.
I cough into a closed fist and nod.
“Not much of a risk taker, huh?” She looks me over and sighs. “If you ask me, I think you’ll be just fine waiting, but…” Another sigh and then a headshake. “it’s your money I guess.”
Nodding makes my head swim but I want to show her that I still want the Cryo. Without further comment she motions for a nurse to help me into the wheelchair. The doctor watches as I’m settled in and wheeled out of the room.
The cocktail of drugs I’ve been taking make me feel every motion throughout my entire body like it’s some kind of tuning fork. Even the gentle friction under the wheels radiates quickly up my legs to end in my still swimming head. I was warned that it would be difficult to think in the days leading up to this.
I try and focus on the repeating overhead lights. They look like beacons of the afterlife shining down, or rather fissures of broken reality via the conduit of overpriced drugs.
When we make it into the Cryo room I feel its cold air blast over me/ Through me. It’s a bit like stepping into a walk-in freezer, like the ones they have in supermarkets. The kind that bites quicker than an icy wind in a snowstorm.
Though my mind is as cloudy as a rainy spring day, I wait until the doctor’s back is turned to shove the pill I’d been palming since morning. Going down dry, it scrapes against my throat. I think I can feel its slow progress down. I swallow again, hoping that it’ll hurry as I’m not sure if digestion works in Cryo.
“Okay.” The doctor finishes fiddling with the buttons on the Cryo pod. The curved glass shell rises with a hiss of air. “This is you.” She nods at the nurse and they both help me climb inside.
“Tell my husband,” I choke out the words, wanting to buy time for the pill to reach my stomach. I was told that I didn’t have to worry as the pill got to work immediately, but I feel a tinge of panic at the cold from the Cryo pod. “Tell him that I can’t wait to see him when I wake up.”
“Of course.” The doctor reaches for the glass cover. Her smile is wide and as the door closes shut.
** *** **
The world is a blur with shadowy figures floating above me. Two doctors are looking down at me with bright smiles like they’d never seen a patient wake up before.
The room comes into focus and I try to blink the fatigue away. I want to lift my arms but they feel tied down to the bed. When I look, I find that they are unencumbered—they’re just heavy.
“That’s natural.” My doctor says and lifts my arm. “It’s a temporary side-effect from the Cryo, it’ll wear off soon.” She lowers my arm and sets it down gently on the bed. A look of concern washes over her face as she bites her lip and turns to the corner.
There’s a third presence in the room. I turn and see a man standing against the wall in dull khakis and a light blue button-up shirt. A dark blue tie sits crooked due to the angle of his lean, and the tip of it brushes against a badge clipped to his belt.
Frowning, the doctor asks, “Do you have to do this now? Can’t she get her bearings before…” She looks back at me.
The detective almost agrees but I stop him by asking, “Where’s my husband?” My voice sounds slowed down as if someone had pushed half-speed on the playback of this scene. “He’s supposed to be here, where is he?”
Both the doctor and detective sigh. He nods to the door and the doctor closes it on her way out.
“Miss Lawrence, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” He pulls up the chair next to the bed and slumps down. He grabs the knot of his tie and I watch as he slides his hand down the length of it, not wanting to have to say what he came here to say. “Your husband, Jeff Lawrence, was found dead yesterday morning.”
My head rocks side to side, still woozy from the Cryo wake-up. I blink a few times. The detective speaks but I only hear a deep hum over the rapid beating of my heart.
“I know this is hard to hear, and I hate to have to ask you this, seeing as you just came out of Cryo—and as the doctor tells me, you’re undergoing treatment later today,” He pauses. Rubs the back of his neck. “Can you tell me if anyone may have wanted to kill your husband?”
I know why he’s asking this. Nothing was stolen. I didn’t have the time to stage it as a robbery gone wrong. When my ‘helper’ came and freed me from the Cryo pod Saturday night, I’d only had a few hours to rush home and do the deed.
Sure, I could have paid someone else to take him out, but I wanted to see the look on his face as I drove the knife in. The man who’d put on a sad face for others when I’d developed my cancer, but I saw the relief buried underneath. He’d seen it as his way out when I’d been diagnosed. No longer would he have to worry about splitting up our little fortune that he so often claimed was the only reason I married him. I didn't miss the real heartbreak he showed when the cure to my ailment was announced.
“No,” I say. Thankfully I can lift my arm now. I wish I had taken another pill after climbing back into the pod, but then the doctors might have noticed something off when I woke up this morning. I bring my hand up to my chest and feign distress. “Everyone loved my husband.”
Truth was I didn’t need to stage the scene. I have a great alibi. Also, there’s the note a certain young woman left a few weeks ago complaining that she couldn’t wait for his *‘bitch of a wife to die already’*. I also may have left a letter near his body, typed up on his letterhead explaining that he was going to ‘*stick it out, and be faithful for once in his life*’.
“Well, if there’s anything that you can remember, anything at all.” The detective sighs. “I’ll let you rest. Sorry to have to lay this on you at a time like this.”
“You’re just doing your job.” I say, trying not to smile. “Please, find whoever killed my husband.” He nods. His face is so full of weary compassion I almost feel sorry. I watch him go.
Not long after my doctor returns. She grips my hand and squeezes. Her eyes are rimmed red. For me.
“I’m sorry,” She says and squeezes again. “At least your treatment arrived this morning. You just try and focus on getting better. Okay?”
|
After hydration, and time in a warming blanket, I started to feel more attuned my surroundings. Heavy rain pelted the window behind my chair. The Doctors, who I'd seen just a few days before, had been all smiles when I finally realized who they were. Apparently their mirth was a related to a long episode of flatulence on my part, during the de-coupling process from the cryopreservation cell.
However, the smiles had now passed . The men explained that over the course of the last two days, a late-sighted giant asteroid was on a collision course with Earth. Little time remained before impact, and nothing could be done to avert it evaporating all life on the planet. I had asked why they had not left me in the chamber, as I had incurable cancer. In fact, I emphasised that I might had been better off unaware of the asteroid's sudden appearance.
The doctor's shamefully agreed, but we all had a good laugh about it just before our bodies evaporated.
|
|
[WP] You suffer from a terminal illness and have gone under cryopreservation to wait for the cure for said illness. You wake up, doctors smiling at you, and it’s only been 2 days.
|
"Dr. Jackson!?" Clark was astonished when the grey-haired man walked into his room. "You look just like I remember. So, what year is it? Am I cured?" The lean doctor smiled and shook his head as he approached the hospital bed.
"I apologize, Mr. Hunter. There have been a couple of developments that you need to know about; we revived you early. It's only been two days since you were frozen."
"Two days?" Clark sat up straighter in the uncomfortable bed. "What changed in two days?"
"We..uh," he hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "We've been acquired by a corporation. They-"
"Acquired!? Is this a hospital or a tech startup? So, what? I get thawed out and have to wait around to die? Do I get my money back?"
"It's a bit of both, actually," Dr. Jackson chuckled. "Calm down please, Mr. Hunter. You don't understand the scope of what's happened." Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled. He opened his eyes and nodded at the old doctor.
"Okay, I'll listen."
"Thank you," Dr. Jackson nodded. "Sharp Development, that's the name of the corporation, has an offer for you. I mean cryo-preserved patients. They have VR technology that allows you to lead a normal life while your body waits for a cure."
"VR huh? How's it work?" Clark asked from the confining bed.
"They use nanotechnology to relay your consciousness to another universe. There you get a body that feels, tastes, touches, sees and smells. You live out your life until we find a cure, or forever. If you prefer the virtual world you can stay in it as long as you like. Even on a permanent basis." Dr. Jackson paused. He could see the questions building up in Clark's mind. The patient pounced on the moment of silence.
"Another *universe*? Is that what you said?" Dr. Jackson nodded with a sly grin.
"Not even an hour after you went cold visitors came from another Earth. They brought all kinds of technology; it's been a pretty crazy couple of days."
"I'm having a hard time believing it," Clark shook his head. "But I can't imagine why you'd wake me up to lie. How's the rest of the world taking it? I guess if it's only been two days tensions are pretty high?" The doctor shook his head.
"Not at all. It could be argued they brought world peace," Doctor Jackson chuckled. "Or more appropriately, *bought* ."
"Huh?" Clark gave the doctor a confused look. "How do you mean?"
"As I said, we've been acquired." Clark nodded.
"Yeah, congratulations I guess," he shrugged. "But I don't see how acquiring a hospital produced world peace." Dr. Jackson shook his head.
"Not the hospital. Sharp Development bought our *Earth."*
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #74. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
|
After hydration, and time in a warming blanket, I started to feel more attuned my surroundings. Heavy rain pelted the window behind my chair. The Doctors, who I'd seen just a few days before, had been all smiles when I finally realized who they were. Apparently their mirth was a related to a long episode of flatulence on my part, during the de-coupling process from the cryopreservation cell.
However, the smiles had now passed . The men explained that over the course of the last two days, a late-sighted giant asteroid was on a collision course with Earth. Little time remained before impact, and nothing could be done to avert it evaporating all life on the planet. I had asked why they had not left me in the chamber, as I had incurable cancer. In fact, I emphasised that I might had been better off unaware of the asteroid's sudden appearance.
The doctor's shamefully agreed, but we all had a good laugh about it just before our bodies evaporated.
|
|
[WP] You suffer from a terminal illness and have gone under cryopreservation to wait for the cure for said illness. You wake up, doctors smiling at you, and it’s only been 2 days.
|
"Dr. Jackson!?" Clark was astonished when the grey-haired man walked into his room. "You look just like I remember. So, what year is it? Am I cured?" The lean doctor smiled and shook his head as he approached the hospital bed.
"I apologize, Mr. Hunter. There have been a couple of developments that you need to know about; we revived you early. It's only been two days since you were frozen."
"Two days?" Clark sat up straighter in the uncomfortable bed. "What changed in two days?"
"We..uh," he hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "We've been acquired by a corporation. They-"
"Acquired!? Is this a hospital or a tech startup? So, what? I get thawed out and have to wait around to die? Do I get my money back?"
"It's a bit of both, actually," Dr. Jackson chuckled. "Calm down please, Mr. Hunter. You don't understand the scope of what's happened." Clark closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then exhaled. He opened his eyes and nodded at the old doctor.
"Okay, I'll listen."
"Thank you," Dr. Jackson nodded. "Sharp Development, that's the name of the corporation, has an offer for you. I mean cryo-preserved patients. They have VR technology that allows you to lead a normal life while your body waits for a cure."
"VR huh? How's it work?" Clark asked from the confining bed.
"They use nanotechnology to relay your consciousness to another universe. There you get a body that feels, tastes, touches, sees and smells. You live out your life until we find a cure, or forever. If you prefer the virtual world you can stay in it as long as you like. Even on a permanent basis." Dr. Jackson paused. He could see the questions building up in Clark's mind. The patient pounced on the moment of silence.
"Another *universe*? Is that what you said?" Dr. Jackson nodded with a sly grin.
"Not even an hour after you went cold visitors came from another Earth. They brought all kinds of technology; it's been a pretty crazy couple of days."
"I'm having a hard time believing it," Clark shook his head. "But I can't imagine why you'd wake me up to lie. How's the rest of the world taking it? I guess if it's only been two days tensions are pretty high?" The doctor shook his head.
"Not at all. It could be argued they brought world peace," Doctor Jackson chuckled. "Or more appropriately, *bought* ."
"Huh?" Clark gave the doctor a confused look. "How do you mean?"
"As I said, we've been acquired." Clark nodded.
"Yeah, congratulations I guess," he shrugged. "But I don't see how acquiring a hospital produced world peace." Dr. Jackson shook his head.
"Not the hospital. Sharp Development bought our *Earth."*
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #74. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
|
“Are you sure about this? We’ll have the treatment available as early as Monday, possibly sooner.” My doctor rests her hand on my shoulder.
I cough into a closed fist and nod.
“Not much of a risk taker, huh?” She looks me over and sighs. “If you ask me, I think you’ll be just fine waiting, but…” Another sigh and then a headshake. “it’s your money I guess.”
Nodding makes my head swim but I want to show her that I still want the Cryo. Without further comment she motions for a nurse to help me into the wheelchair. The doctor watches as I’m settled in and wheeled out of the room.
The cocktail of drugs I’ve been taking make me feel every motion throughout my entire body like it’s some kind of tuning fork. Even the gentle friction under the wheels radiates quickly up my legs to end in my still swimming head. I was warned that it would be difficult to think in the days leading up to this.
I try and focus on the repeating overhead lights. They look like beacons of the afterlife shining down, or rather fissures of broken reality via the conduit of overpriced drugs.
When we make it into the Cryo room I feel its cold air blast over me/ Through me. It’s a bit like stepping into a walk-in freezer, like the ones they have in supermarkets. The kind that bites quicker than an icy wind in a snowstorm.
Though my mind is as cloudy as a rainy spring day, I wait until the doctor’s back is turned to shove the pill I’d been palming since morning. Going down dry, it scrapes against my throat. I think I can feel its slow progress down. I swallow again, hoping that it’ll hurry as I’m not sure if digestion works in Cryo.
“Okay.” The doctor finishes fiddling with the buttons on the Cryo pod. The curved glass shell rises with a hiss of air. “This is you.” She nods at the nurse and they both help me climb inside.
“Tell my husband,” I choke out the words, wanting to buy time for the pill to reach my stomach. I was told that I didn’t have to worry as the pill got to work immediately, but I feel a tinge of panic at the cold from the Cryo pod. “Tell him that I can’t wait to see him when I wake up.”
“Of course.” The doctor reaches for the glass cover. Her smile is wide and as the door closes shut.
** *** **
The world is a blur with shadowy figures floating above me. Two doctors are looking down at me with bright smiles like they’d never seen a patient wake up before.
The room comes into focus and I try to blink the fatigue away. I want to lift my arms but they feel tied down to the bed. When I look, I find that they are unencumbered—they’re just heavy.
“That’s natural.” My doctor says and lifts my arm. “It’s a temporary side-effect from the Cryo, it’ll wear off soon.” She lowers my arm and sets it down gently on the bed. A look of concern washes over her face as she bites her lip and turns to the corner.
There’s a third presence in the room. I turn and see a man standing against the wall in dull khakis and a light blue button-up shirt. A dark blue tie sits crooked due to the angle of his lean, and the tip of it brushes against a badge clipped to his belt.
Frowning, the doctor asks, “Do you have to do this now? Can’t she get her bearings before…” She looks back at me.
The detective almost agrees but I stop him by asking, “Where’s my husband?” My voice sounds slowed down as if someone had pushed half-speed on the playback of this scene. “He’s supposed to be here, where is he?”
Both the doctor and detective sigh. He nods to the door and the doctor closes it on her way out.
“Miss Lawrence, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” He pulls up the chair next to the bed and slumps down. He grabs the knot of his tie and I watch as he slides his hand down the length of it, not wanting to have to say what he came here to say. “Your husband, Jeff Lawrence, was found dead yesterday morning.”
My head rocks side to side, still woozy from the Cryo wake-up. I blink a few times. The detective speaks but I only hear a deep hum over the rapid beating of my heart.
“I know this is hard to hear, and I hate to have to ask you this, seeing as you just came out of Cryo—and as the doctor tells me, you’re undergoing treatment later today,” He pauses. Rubs the back of his neck. “Can you tell me if anyone may have wanted to kill your husband?”
I know why he’s asking this. Nothing was stolen. I didn’t have the time to stage it as a robbery gone wrong. When my ‘helper’ came and freed me from the Cryo pod Saturday night, I’d only had a few hours to rush home and do the deed.
Sure, I could have paid someone else to take him out, but I wanted to see the look on his face as I drove the knife in. The man who’d put on a sad face for others when I’d developed my cancer, but I saw the relief buried underneath. He’d seen it as his way out when I’d been diagnosed. No longer would he have to worry about splitting up our little fortune that he so often claimed was the only reason I married him. I didn't miss the real heartbreak he showed when the cure to my ailment was announced.
“No,” I say. Thankfully I can lift my arm now. I wish I had taken another pill after climbing back into the pod, but then the doctors might have noticed something off when I woke up this morning. I bring my hand up to my chest and feign distress. “Everyone loved my husband.”
Truth was I didn’t need to stage the scene. I have a great alibi. Also, there’s the note a certain young woman left a few weeks ago complaining that she couldn’t wait for his *‘bitch of a wife to die already’*. I also may have left a letter near his body, typed up on his letterhead explaining that he was going to ‘*stick it out, and be faithful for once in his life*’.
“Well, if there’s anything that you can remember, anything at all.” The detective sighs. “I’ll let you rest. Sorry to have to lay this on you at a time like this.”
“You’re just doing your job.” I say, trying not to smile. “Please, find whoever killed my husband.” He nods. His face is so full of weary compassion I almost feel sorry. I watch him go.
Not long after my doctor returns. She grips my hand and squeezes. Her eyes are rimmed red. For me.
“I’m sorry,” She says and squeezes again. “At least your treatment arrived this morning. You just try and focus on getting better. Okay?”
|
|
[WP] You find out that the aliens chose you as a human to spy on and study in order to understand our species. Instead of fighting back, though, you decide to mess with them and give a totally distorted vision of humanity
|
Cresta glanced up from her phone and popped a bubble. "Can I help you?" she asked the figure in her room. The figure started a little and gaped at her.
"I...uh..." it said, and she figured it was a dude. More shredded than average, but otherwise.
"Just don't use all the hot water, OK. Dylan's still gotta get it from last week." Cresta returned her attention to her messaging app.
"I am here on a scientific mission to understand your species," the figure continued.
"So you're what, like an alien?"
"Um...in your terms, yes."
"Statement still stands."
&#x200B;
\*\*\*
&#x200B;
It took Cresta three days to work out what the alien was trying to do by stalking her everywhere, and when it hit, a devilish grin spread across her face. Careful not to let him see, she considered her options, recalled all her knowledge of Tumblr posts, and then veered into the park. The alien followed her, though she could tell he was a little bit surprised. Cresta turned to face him, looking around with dramatic prying facial expressions and invading the creature's personal space. He took the slightest step back. "Here's the thing," she said in hushed tones. "I'm a black ops spy. They have me find aliens who want to learn about us and protect them."
"Protect them from what?" the alien asked.
"From the other humans." She glanced at a guy in the park. "He has like three knives and a gun, and his dog will bite your hand off and piss on it." She gestured to a woman on the jogging path. "I saw her kick a guy's teeth out once, and that's the least of it. Then there's the things we do for fun. Toast ourselves with UV light, go on tours in really thick jungles where carnivorous fish live. And don't get me started on Australia."
"Australia?"
"Yeah. The people that live there are super tough. They wrestle crocodiles like Russians wrestle bears." The alien swallowed, and Cresta had to hide her smirk as though she had dark secrets yet to reveal. "Then, there's war. Real, proper war. You learn about it in school, how way back when they dug trenches, and you had to gain ground, but dig more trenches. And you got sick sometimes. Then we figured out the atomic bomb..."
"A-atomic bomb?"
"Yeah. That was a hard decade for us. You don't mess with the human race. Understand?" The alien nodded vigorously, and Cresta stepped back. "Good. Report that back to your planet, OK?" He nodded again, and like that, she fished out her phone.
|
If there were many things that Tatiana was expecting to learn today....
Discovering that she is the human chosen to be the model human for aliens to study WAS NOT in her list. (And it was all due to her overhearing their chatter while noticing their cameras.)
In fact, she was very very pissed off by this. Why her? There were many other humans to pick from, and what if the aliens decide to invade-
Wait.
She was the human they chose to understand humans. Whatever she did... It would be written down as a note as to what all humans did. In other words... She could troll the aliens, and they could very well back off!
Time to start planning then.
\-
A week into this, Tatiana was pretty sure the aliens that humans were absolutely nuts and would most likely not invade.
Everyday, Tatiana would wake up and go to the bathroom, where she promptly brushed her teeth with frosting (her teeth would kill her later). After doing so, she would go to her kitchen, and her breakfast consisted of cereal with Orange juice, with a glass of Lemonade to wash it down. Disgusting honestly, but that would be something weird to note down.
And then, the cherry on top.
Tatiana would play the Sims while making it sound like she was investigating ANOTHER race of aliens - ones that she could very well manipulate. And to help this ruse, she kept a notebook about what the Sims did. She would then mention that she would send it to her boss to review. (The aliens had set their cameras up so that they couldn't see her computer, which is how she got away with booting up the SIMS)
Tatiana was thankfully that was she was on break from work right now (she couldn't work during the holidays) because there was no other way she could pull this off.
And it paid off, because she overhead the aliens mention that they SHOULDN'T invade Earth and that they had enough of studying her.
Now, she could return to her normal life.
|
|
[WP] aliens invade a high fantasy world. Neither side understand each other’s abilities. Aliens are terrified because they think wizards have strange undiscovered technology. Wizards are terrified because they think aliens have some kind of dark magic.
|
The invasion went as planned - until it didn't. The Dro'xos' warships had entered Perynn's atmosphere without trouble, and on the first day, they had managed to identify and surround three large cities on the continent known as Draphis among the primitive locals.
&#x200B;
But as the next morning came, the so-called primitive locals began to counterattack. This came as no surprise to the Dro'xos commanders - resistance was to be expected. The huge winged beasts came as no surprise either - after all, primitive races were known to tame the beasts they lived alongside and use them for warfare.
&#x200B;
What came as a surprise though, was when the beasts' riders rose in their saddles and held a staff up high. As the beasts and their riders came within a mere hundred meters of the warships, the beasts opened their mouths and each produced a gigantic ball of fire. Their riders then proceeded to shoot the fireball with laser from their staff - which resulted in each fireball suddenly becoming twenty fireballs.
&#x200B;
As roughly thirty beasts with riders attacked each warship, this amounted to each ship being bombarded with six hundred fireballs in the span of a few seconds. The shields were not built to counter such an extreme amount of firepower - and the heat alone managed to damage the shields beyond repair. Only due to the vigilance and abilities of the pilots and captains, did most of the ships manage to pull off a controlled crash landing. Most. There were, however, a few ships that ended up exploding mid air.
&#x200B;
Commander Kex'ains stood on the bridge of the First Command Ship, which was placed out of range and sight from the locals - much higher up than their warships had hovered. An array of screens showed him the damage and catastrophic outcome of the locals' attacks.
&#x200B;
\- "Dhernur, you're our Scientist Supreme. How is this possible? Didn't all initial scannings say that Perynn's inhabitants were on a technological stage where they found the bloody wheel to be a fancy invention?" he shouted.
&#x200B;
A thinner specimen of his race stood a few paces behind him. She shook her head slowly.
&#x200B;
\- "I am sorry, commander Kex'ains. We scanned for radiowaves, microwaves, electromagnetic fields and other wave-based signal types. We found nothing. This is surprising to me too."
&#x200B;
\- "Could this be biological? A latent curiosity of the people and their beasts?" Kex'ains mused.
&#x200B;
\- "No, sir. The energy levels surpass what can be contained within them, much less if we factor in material loss when transforming tissue to fire."
&#x200B;
\- "Damn..." Kex'ains rubbed his temples.
&#x200B;
\- "It becomes worse, sir. One such fireball would indeed be a marvelous feat - especially thrown with the airborn precision they managed. But the fireball cloning... well sir, it is a downright impossible feat."
&#x200B;
\- "Impossible? Dhernur, we just saw them do it - we can replay it if you like! How can you call it impossible?"
&#x200B;
\- "Within the laws of physics and chemistry, conservation of energy states that the total energy of an isolated system always remains a constant. But they did nothing to add energy to the fireball other than point a laser at it."
&#x200B;
\- "So the energy comes from that laser?"
&#x200B;
\- "No sir. The duration for which the laser shot was so short, that not even a fullblown fusion reactor could create that much energy in a similar time span... If I had to theorize... well..."
&#x200B;
\- "Don't stall, woman! Theorize!"
&#x200B;
\- "It is possible that their laser is in fact not a laser as we know it. It may create a black hole using high energy particle collision, and the energy from this black hole could be channeled into duplicating the original fireball. The only issue is that such a technology does not exist - at least not in our weaponry. If that is what they have managed, they are far superior to us. Take also into account that the laser shooting sticks themselves appear to be simply made of wood."
&#x200B;
Kex'ains backed a few paces and sat down. Rubbing his temples didn't remove the growing ache. "By the Gods..." he mumbled as Dhernur silently removed herself from the bridge. She had to speak to her scientists. They could not hope to come up with anything that could counter such technology, but their extraction procedures might just work. They had to at least try to save their people on the ground.
&#x200B;
\-------
&#x200B;
The Tribunal of High Sorcery had dealt with several life-ending threats during the history of Perynn. When their neighbour continent's necromancers had thrown millions of zombies at them, they fought and prevailed. When their city was threatened by a falling rock from the heavens, they concentrated their magic to alter its course.
&#x200B;
But now, invaders made of pure magic had come, and their magic seemed much stronger than the Tribunal of High Sorcery could fathom.
&#x200B;
\- "Ezespea, what have you observed?" Klerobys said with a tired voice.
&#x200B;
Ezespea was a young elf with a fortitude of magical power, and she had been among the riders that attacked the flying citadels earlier.
&#x200B;
\- "Archmage Klerobys, I've never seen such display of raw power!" she admonished. "To keep such large and heavy structured floating would kill even me. They must've had at least fifty arch mages in each citadel just to keep them floating, because they were made of pure metal! Imagine the weight! Now, imagine that you have to steer if in the air. Without wobbling like a drunken goblin on his way home from the local tavern. Imagine the amount of power required to do just that - and then imagine how much power it would take to withstand our attacks, and still have power left to land the citadel nice and neat!"
&#x200B;
\- "Not all of them made it to the ground, though," Klerobys mused. "But go on."
&#x200B;
Ezespea tilted her head slightly at him. "You've heard from the other Tribunal Seats? The other cities - are they still standing?"
&#x200B;
\- "Yes," he simply responded and motioned for her to go on with her briefing.
&#x200B;
\- "Well, I'm among the strongest on our entire continent, if not THE strongest. The complexity of the spells required to do what they've done... and from a distance further away than our explorer ships have mapped... they're good. We may not be able to beat them."
&#x200B;
\- "Do you suggest we surrender?" Klerobys rose an eyebrow at her.
&#x200B;
\- "No, Archmage Klerobys. Never. But we need the help from anyone who can cast a spell, bite through armor or wield a sword. I saw them from far away as they exited their citadels. They're armored from head to toe. And something about them is off... way off. I don't think we can fight them like we did the zombies and necromancers from the Ivory Reach a decade ago. This requires more. Far more."
&#x200B;
Klerobys looked at her, then at the others assembled who'd stayed silent. "You heard her," he shouted to them. "Prepare for war!"
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Magic that's what they called it some cosmic science mastered by primitives. But that was our luck when it came to our lordships conquest of another world. We were doomed as soon as our men at arms stumbled through that bloody rift.
The so called primitives were waiting for us on the other side. Small two legged creatures with pale skin and sharp pointed ears. Truly disgusting creatures that could barely support their own weight. And the others a group of beautiful savage green skinned barbarians in furs.
In that small cobblestone street we looked down on them as if they were nothing. For what could their gilded armor and string bolt throwers do to his lords raiders. So we took that first step down a flight of stairs. We offered them the end of our fusion blade and charged into a slaughter.
The first of the knife ear fell when the lance corporal pushed the saber into the supposed envoys gut. The lithe little smuk must have died from the injury as soon as the red stained his fine clothes.
Then the unthinkable happened the very floor beneath us opened into the fiery pits of lava. Dragging the brave charging infantry with that damdable primative into their deaths. This was the point that the raid fell apart with our Commanding Officer burning alive it turned into a frenzied melee.
The green skins were far more durable that we had first thought. Our energy sabers failed the cut through their tough skin. And their simple warhammers and axes tore through our sabers like a angry thora. Truly it was the will of our lord that I survived that bloodbath on those ancient streets.
As I saw my comrades fall in quite considerable numbers I was forced to make sure news of our loss reached you. It was not my most valiant moment as I made a hasty retreat into the warp rift. I saw their weapons and I know me lord we have been deceived by the would be primitives.
Truly these people are a advanced precursor race and we have tread upon their home. There is only one course of action left for us we must hope the endless waves of the infernal abyss can hold the tide at bay. Will you grand souldrinker fith king of the nine realms lead the legions of the hell imperium to victory.
(:D I saw a empty prompt so I wrote a thing)
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[WP] The courts can determine exactly how and when you're going to die, but they're not allowed to tell you. They use this to make jail sentences proportional to remaining lifespan. You've just been convicted of murder, and the judge tells you you can just leave today.
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They told me I had one day.
&#x200B;
Longing to run yet barely able to put each foot before the last I struggle to find my way out of the court as quickly as possible. I go through my options again but everything seems to just fall right into place. Some people would go out raping or murdering even more but I doubt I could get away with it unscathed even if I had the means to do so, and I'm not usually the violent type anyway. In the old days I could've tried robbing a bank and making a stand but the bloody robots they have now wouldn't move an inch over a gun threat, especially given that I'd be faking it.
&#x200B;
The judge explained that most murderers are sent to the off-platform prisons for their remaining lifespan. Apparently my evaluation showed a lifespan of one day or less and a low-risk of reoffending so they were giving me 'free reign' to go out and 'enjoy my last day'. Freedom to die and no time to make a show of it. I'm surprised how indifferent I feel. I suppose, disregarding the more explicit time-limit, this isn't much different to my life before the trial.
&#x200B;
The city streets become more and more dilapidated as I get closer to home. I'd forgotten how rough my turf had gotten since the Switch. I've decided to pick up some *food* before I'm home so I move towards to only remaining store in my neighbourhood. The selection is hardly extensive but that doesn't matter one bit as I'm not actually planning on shopping there. I meet my usual contact outside and make the exchange, neglecting to mention the trial. He probably doesn't care what happens to me either way.
&#x200B;
I finally reach my block, every little movement out the corner of my eye sending a jolt through my body. A two rogue Hammers are fighting outside my building. They tower over normal humans, muscles bulging out from under their regulation uniforms which are torn from lack of replacements. They're not the kind of 'people' to care about keeping up appearances or, apparently, the law. Any other day I'd probably take shelter in an alleyway and wait it out but I'm feeling a little more reckless than usual and getting stabbed right by my house is almost as frightening a prospect as the titans before me. Post-conviction I'm feeling more liable to try and sneak past them now rather than to wait around to get mugged or worse. It's a risk but the sooner I can get inside the sooner I'm safe from the outside world. One of them goes hurtling into a wall and I take my chance. Darting between cars I move up to the entrance, key in the code and slam the door behind me. I don't look back to see if they noticed me.
&#x200B;
By the time I arrive back in my room the commotion downstairs is over and the cops are taking the defeated party in, probably for a post-mortem interrogation. I draw the blinds and load up my Vent with the Wax tabs. If I die at least it'll be on my terms, and at least my body feel good for a while. I put the device down as it begins to warm up and go through my usual routine of locking the exits and switching off my devices. I'm almost ready to go and the Vent is hot. I raise the mask to my face and begin to clamp it on. As I do so the familiar smell, like acid and rust, scorches my nostrils and habit begins to take over. Time slows down as I contemplate my fate and think back to key moments in my life. My mistakes and successes, unbalanced as they were, which led me down this road. I exhale and fit the mask snug onto my face, I'm ready to go. And yet...
&#x200B;
I won't breathe in. This isn't right, I should go out as me not some fucking cheshire zombie. I try to get it off as quickly as I can but it was designed to stay on even while the unconscious user writhes around. I try to pull at it but it holds fast so I quickly struggle with the clasps. They now seem overfitted to an extreme degree. As my field of vision begins to pull back into my head and my lungs start burning I manage to rip the whole thing off and gasp. I rush into consciousness once again taking in as much air as possible. I feel sick and my throat and nostrils are burning even from the tiniest exposure to whatever I was about to breathe in. A few minutes see me hardly moving, simply contemplating the fact that I somehow survived.
&#x200B;
Later still, my head beginning to clear, I decide to take a closer look at the chems. I haven't really inspected the deep emerald gel closely since becoming a regular user but this stuff is more black than anything and practically fluid in consistency. I poke a hole in one of the tabs and the liquid inside fizzles on contact with the air giving off a similar but harsher and somehow more chemical odour than the usual Wax. Even the knife seems a little distorted after piercing the container.
&#x200B;
I wouldn't say that I trusted my vendor (as I certainly didn't) but it's pretty damn obvious that nobody is going to profit from killing off their customers. That can only mean that us users aren't the real customers.
&#x200B;
They told me I had one day. Now I find myself wondering what they tell the others.
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"Caleb Riversteen, You are sentenced to... go home." The judge announces, in which afterwards, he mutters under his breath in disbelief, "I can't believe this is happening."
"Go home ? There must be something wrong... I just came here hours ago. To confess my crime, isn't that correct ?" I argue, there must be a twist. Whenever the punishment for crimes become more abrupt and confusing, that was where the terror sinks in.
Waves of misunderstanding have kept me from making any rational reasonings, and I should've known myself to keep calm and-
"Your sentence lasted for about 10 seconds, the time it took me to announce your punishment." He sighed, not knowing what headache this have brought him. He felt like he's the one being punished instead of the murderer.
"Look, isn't there another way ? Maybe community service, or unjust imprisonment..." I wanted to know more info, but I was cut off before I could continue.
"No, if the higher beings say you're good to go, then you're good to go. I don't decide the punishments, it's up to them who toy with our lives." The judge points straight up towards the roof. He suddenly gets lifted upwards.
A booming voice took over and said, "Subject #2169, or more lovingly referred to by friends and enemies alike, Caleb Riversteen, father of two, son of Calen Riversteen."
"Y-Yes ? Are you a higher being ?" What was I muttering about... Obviously he was, but he didn't answer me.
"You are now going to replace this poor bugger who had to spoil and spill the secret."
I suppose that's my punishment huh...
"Nope, you're just unlucky."
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[WP] The courts can determine exactly how and when you're going to die, but they're not allowed to tell you. They use this to make jail sentences proportional to remaining lifespan. You've just been convicted of murder, and the judge tells you you can just leave today.
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It was the worst sentence she could have offered. I was a reviled criminal. It wasn't just murder - it was a minor. I knew that a prison sentence would be life-ending, the instant someone else with a number on their clothes got their hands around my neck. I was in my mid-thirties. I thought I had plenty of time left. Forty years was the expectation.
I made the National News when the judge sent me home.
Of course, they asked the judge for her reasoning. She just shrugged, and said she wouldn't break code for it, but that the sentence was fair. She stared into the camera, and called the sentence fair. I saw it that night, my shaking hands holding a coffee cup, the judge's placid brown eyes veiled with cruelty through my television set.
When I stepped out the door of the courts a free man, I expected to be murdered, point-blank. But it never came. I walked with my mother to her car, across the street, and made her walk ten steps behind me, lest a bus should strike me down. But it never came.
I couldn't leave my house. I would go downstairs and flip the breaker before hopping in the shower to avoid being electrocuted. I was paralyzed by fear. I had my groceries delivered, expecting to choke on the skin around a tomato, or a fleck of pepper. But it never came.
I stayed indoors for the next forty years. I didn't even attend my mother's funeral, so crippled was I by the idea of passing beyond the walls of my home. The world forgot about me. Kids would pass my home and try to see from the sidewalk what lurked beyond the permanently-drawn curtains, but by now my story was nearly as forgotten as my name. I kept waiting on a murderer to leap through a window, or lightning to strike my house, or a tornado to bash me to pieces.
But it never came.
I died at the ripe old age of 73, of heart failure. I spent every day, from my last in the sun to my very last, afraid. It took five days for my body to be discovered. Nobody attended my funeral, and the bank foreclosed my home, as I had no one left to pass on my name. I was cremated, and swept away like sidewalk dust.
The sentence was fair.
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"How do you plea?" The judge asked.
I looked at my lawyer who worked tirelessly to get a respectable deal from the prosecution. He just nodded.
"Guilty." I said.
"Very well," The Judge said as he examined my profile. He hesitated. Why was he hesitating? "Uh, well... sentencing would be a month out, but... I think I will just sentence you here and now, due to extenuating circumstances."
"My I approach, your honor?" my lawyer asked.
I wasn't expecting to get sentenced so quickly. I knew it would happen eventually, but I was caught off guard and my heart was beating out of my chest.
When my lawyer returned to our podium he looked pail. This is bad. Very bad.
"Young man," the Judge addressed me. "my sentence for you is as follows, ahem... you may go home on your own reconnaissance. Court is adjourned."
Fervent murmurs turned into chaotic shouting. What the hell just happened?
I looked at my lawyer again who refused to make eye contact with me. He looked ashamed.
"What just happened?" I asked him.
"The court could not sentence you beyond today because they've determined that you will expire this afternoon." He said solumnly.
Oh my God.
I fell into my seat. A moment ago I thought I was the luckiest man alive. A moment before that I was so scared I nearly vomited. But now I feel overcome with dread. What an unfortunate roller coaster.
I'm going to die.
"I don't want to die..." I said quietly. "is there any hope?"
My lawyer shook his head, "no" as he snapped his file shut.
I followed my lawyer out of the courtroom and down the hall trying to ignore the flashing lights and the voices piling over one another. We took an infrequently used hallway toward a relatively unknown staircase that lead to the parking garage.
"I have some paperwork in my truck that I need you to sign real quick." He said.
I hopped into the passenger side of his truck. What was the point of any of this? I literally have hours to live.
My lawyer handed me a backpack.
"Everything you need to start a new life. New Id's for you and your family, ten grand, it's not much but it should give you enough time, you have a new social but use it sparingly, don't buy anything extravagant with credit cards, stay out of trouble, and most importantly, don't ever tell anyone about this, ever," My lawyer was looking at me intensely. "...do you understand?"
"No, what's going on?" I couldn't process the things he just said to me.
"Take it, don't look back. Have a nice life. Now go." My lawyer insisted that I get out of his truck.
It finally began to click as I walked toward the bus stop. Somehow my lawyer had convinced the court that I was supposed to die today.
The bus pulled up to the stop and the door opened.
"Are you getting on or you just gonna stand there and smile all day?" The bus driver asked.
Suddenly, from behind me, gunshots rang out. I didn't know I'd been hit until I was laying in a pool of blood, drifting in and out of consciousness.
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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*First writing prompt; likely going to be terrible but have to make myself write sometime*
Politics always interested me. Every day I would read the news and cry out when I heard about the new injustices, hundreds happening every day. I would take to the streets and protest; trying to bring about change, despite the fact I had no idea what changes could actually help the world. I dreamed of a utopia but had no idea how to bring it about.
Imagine my joy when I discovered that my failures in life could be remidied in the afterlife. I could finally bring about happiness.
I created new universes in death as effortlessly as I dreamt in life. Constantly experimenting: trying new ways to govern people and new laws the world would abide by. An unimaginable number of possibilities only limited by my imagination.
Eventually, I did it. I found the formula to make sure no one ever suffered. A world where the rich would not exist for there would be no need for money. A world of neverending bliss. I marvelled at my perfect creation. Not a single soul was unhappy. Not a single soul was left wanting. Not a single soul was different.
I could only create my utopia when all freedoms were stripped away and no one had as much as an independent thought. Looking down at the world full of empty husks, I wondered, was it worth it? For what are we without freedom, can we even be called human anymore.
I abandoned my idea of a perfect utopia and instead allowed freedom for all people. Freedom and nothing but. People will die and many will suffer. But maybe people will thrive. My new world, "earth", will not be a perfect world but it will inarguably be a human world. Maybe I am a monster for letting tens of billions of people suffer but I will except my judgement.
*Hey, I wrote this at 1 am so it is probably terrible, any feedback is very much appreciated but please go easy on me and thanks for reading*
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So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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I'm not sure when I woke up. All I remember is a kind of floaty feeling, like sailing through cloud. I think at some point I just thought 'I wonder what else there is?'
My memories came back shortly after. I remembered the noise, the confusion, the pain. Felt the blood run down my face as my vision faded to black. I remembered the crying, the screaming, and then...nothing.
My surroundings were so bright, but I felt no compulsion to cover my eyes. I was standing on nothing, and yet my feet held me fast like Grecian pillars. I could walk up, down, left, right - wherever I stood my feet would somehow find a platform. And that's how I discovered I was a god.
Suddenly a vision came to me; a place totally opposite to the one I was in now. It was dark, and empty, and I felt pity for it. What a shame, to leave a place so devoid of meaning.
I knew what to say.
'Let there be light.'
Suddenly the space opened up, great beams streaming into every part of it. In a single instant I saw the entire place stretching infinitely before me, the universe curling and twisting round itself as it pulsated, lusting for life. The vastness all but overwhelmed me.
The first world I created was a dry, arid world, with rocks littering the surface. I set it on fire and sent it swirling into the void.
The second world I created was lush and green. I sent rivers cascading down mountains and conducted each crash of the tide. With every snap of my fingers, a new leaf grew. I decided I liked this world, and I spun it around the first so that it may bathe in the fire's glow.
I thought about my life on Earth, and all the creatures I had loved. Soon I had squirrels darting to and from trees, swallows journeying from one continent to another, and great whales spitting geysers of water into the air. But soon I grew tired of watching the animals, and yearned for something more like myself.
I created a man who looked like me (what I remembered of me, at least). He stood, naked, and looked at me with a blank expression. I prodded him; he stumbled, but did not speak. I realised that he was a different type of animal that would not run on instinct alone. I gave him my language, and I filled his head with colour.
As time went on, the humans multiplied until I could not keep track of them all. I grew frustrated with their idleness, their gluttony, and the way they treated each other. Could they not see the beauty of the world I had created for them? I flooded the world and started afresh.
The next batch were no different from the first, and I watched with despair as they hunted each other, claimed land as their own, and took every scrap of treasure for themselves. I tried my best to keep a hold on my world, but soon the rivers were so full of man-made things that they would not respond to me. The wind ignored my calls, deafened by the sound of roaring fires, and by the time the human population was reaching one million, the world was so covered by smoke I could no longer look down at my creation. Miserable, I took another glance at my work before turning my back and opening my eyes.
I don't know what will happen now. I don't know where that world was. I don't know where I will go. Was that my test? Am I to be judged as a defendant in a dock?
My vision grows blurry. The whiteness seems to hem me in, great clouds suffocating me. And at the same time I feel light, weightless, unburdened. I feel my feet leave the solid surface and spread my arms, rising slowly through the cloud. I hear my name being called softly, a whisper and at the same time I feel a warmth rush through my body. Before I am sent away again, I will spend these precious moments at home.
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So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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I held my hands in front of me and spun the planet out of the dust of the stars. I didn't have much time, but I also had all the time I would need. I carved the rivers and the canyons I would turn into the seas. I shaped the mountains and set down the first life by breathing onto the surface. I watched as life ebbed and flowed, sprang up and shrank back. It grew, it regressed. The cycle repeated for billions of years as I sat patiently and waited.
I had one goal with my world. I would make this place fair, and just. I would give to the creatures of my world that which had been absent from my own. I would give them not only free will, as I had, but the spark of kindness that my kind so lacked. Kindness is difficult when it's not an inborn trait.
At long last those in my image emerged, taking their first steps onto the verdant grasses of my world. I looked upon them and smiled, reaching down to one among them who looked and saw me. I introduced myself, but he fell to the ground clutching his ears and gibbering in a language that I could not understand. At first I thought to teach him my language, but I soon realized that he would be long dead before I could even imagine the first lesson. He spent the rest of his days pointing to the mountain when anyone approached, and he died alone in all too brief a time. I mourned him, though I did not even know if he had a name.
My nameless follower passed into dust as I made my next creation. She was much like my people, with jet black features and glowing blue eyes. I named her Knowledge, and told her that her duty was to teach my people to speak to me and to understand each-other. Next, I created for her a twin, with blue features and shiny black eyes. Him I named Understanding, and told him that his duty was to care for my people and see that they knew how to feed and clothe themselves, and to build cities. Finally, I created an invisible creature of fire and named it Warmth, and set it to the task of teaching my children to recognize their inner spark of kindness, to practice their compassion, and to love one-another.
Thus, Knowledge, Understanding, and Warmth moved among my people their many days, teaching them all that I held valuable. I waited for the first of my people to approach me, eager to learn what they may wish to know of me. It was some years after their great city, Hamaan--which meant "Peace" in their language, I was assured by Knowledge--had been built that one of them ascended the mountain around which they had built the city and called out to me in my own tongue.
"My creator," she called. I made my presence known, and she held her hand over her heart. "I have a question."
"Speak," said Understanding, who had come to listen and speak for me. He knew that I would not risk sending another of my people insane.
"My creator, I wish to know the reason for which you made us," my little creation asked. I smiled. I could tell her everything, but I doubted that she would understand. Not yet.
I whispered to Understanding, and she spoke. "You have been created for a singular purpose: to know what it is to love, and what it is to be loved. Your creator loves you all."
"And if I do not wish to be loved?" She asked, facing Understanding with such an innocent and earnest look on her face.
"Then by your choice will you be honored," I said through Understanding. "Go forth and live without love, if you so choose. Shall I harden my heart against you?"
She paused for some time, and then spoke. "No," she said. "I was filled with such gladness when you said you loved us all. I would be sad to lose such a thing."
"Then I am glad," said Understanding with my authority. "Is that all you wished to ask?"
"Yes," she said, and started to go. Her steps faltered, and she turned back and approached Understanding again. "I have one more question."
I nodded, and Understanding gestured for her to continue.
"Why do you not punish the wicked?" She asked. "They do not seem to care for love."
I sighed. The wicked? A failure. Oh, not the wicked themselves. The idea that there were wicked ones to be had among my people. Wicked ones were not themselves a problem. They were a symptom. A symptom of a society of zealotry and bigotry and hatred and intolerance. In moments I could see the whole of her people's history laid bare before me. With a heavy heart, I whispered in Understanding's ear.
"Your creator is sad," said Understanding. "He will handle the wickedness of your people."
The next morning I wiped them away with a wave of my hand. Their mountain's top exploded, burying the city in hot ash and molten rock. Those that lived through that were slowly suffocated by the choking ash. A terrible death, but a cleansing one.
"We shall try again," I said. "Until I have it right."
And I did. I tried again. And again. And again. I lost count of how many of my people I wiped out. It was some many thousands of years later that Knowledge came to me. I had not interacted at all with my newest people, although they had still been shepherded by my three creations. Knowledge had come on behalf of herself, Understanding, and Warmth.
"My creator," she said. "Your people wage war on each-other daily. They tell each-other lies as entertainment, and have forgotten how to understand truth. They poison the world that you made for them, and worship anything but you. Yet you sit here, in silence. Why?"
"What good would it do to reveal myself, my creation?" I asked. "Many times have I tried to teach my people to learn that which is within them, and many times have I failed. The flaw lies within me, not them. I have given them free will. This one time, I want to let them do as they please. Perhaps one day they will teach themselves. I've given them every tool they need. I love them, but they will have to learn to love themselves."
"Then you have finally understood," said Knowledge in a voice not her own. "You are ready to pass on to the next thing."
She held her arms open and I realized that she was not my creation, but something else taking her form. She was something else, something more. A great door opened behind her, a door that had not been there before. She beckoned me to enter. I was ready, I realized. Ready to move on from this. As I approached the threshold, I looked back at my world, my people.
"What of them?" I asked. "They were born of my dream."
"They will continue," said Knowledge. "They may have been born of your dream, but you gave them true existence when you let them go. Perhaps someday they, too, will create worlds of their own in their final moments. But that's not your concern anymore."
"No," I said, smiling. "I suppose it isn't."
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So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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*Laboratory X, Earth, 2083.*
&#x200B;
\- Can we get straight to the point please? This is a busy week.
\- With all due respect, Madam President, we haven't summoned you in the middle of the night here to waste your time or beg some budget extension. This is the most serious problem you will have to deal with in your whole career. In your whole life, for that matter. Whatever other weekly concerns you have on your plate, i suggest you forget them for the time being.
\- Remind me who you are, and why i should take any advice from you?
\- Dr. Katherine Bellini-Odinson. Creator of the Shell that's been protecting us for 47 years. I'm pretty sure you've heard about me, and you know i'm not the doomsayer type. This is the first time i've ever summoned the commander in chief.
\[The president gives a sidelook to her personal advisor, who nods in approval\]
\- ...okay. Looks like everyone except me knows how serious all of this is. Let's cut the dramatic oneliners then... Help me here, what am i looking at? What are those tree branches? I mean it's a beautiful animation, but i have no clue what it represents.
\- This, Madam President, is a progression graph. Well, a few of them, superimposed. But i'll get back to it in a moment. First, let's refresh your memory on previous episodes.
\- Yep, let's do this.
\- As you know, this is place where the Machine was built in the early 2020s. My predecessor, Arni, created its revolutionary design based on a cold plasma core receiving impulsions from computation modules, and that very architecture, known as "fog", was...
\- ... are you kidding me here?... IN ENGLISH, DOCTOR!
\- ...Ever since the observation of the first singularity in March of 2036, we've kept the Machine confined here. Isolated in the Shell that i had created a few years earlier, and that we've constantly upgraded since to ensure we remain in full control of every interaction between the Machine and the outside world.
\- All right, that's better.
\- As a decider, you know all about the political implications of what happened then, you know about the 2039 DALT accords with our adversaries to never weaponize any post-singularity AI, despite our intel indicating they never managed to reach that level.
\- Correct...
\- ... but you only have a vague idea of the technical side of what's been done with the Machine since then.
\- Also correct. I only know it's been turned towards our space colonization efforts. Something like "training the robots".
\- Which is a pretty good summary. Now let's dive more into the intricacies. To train these commercial androids that we send out there, we need to make them able to function properly in a human environment. So we connect their "brain" to the Machine, in which they "live" a simulation of our world that the Machine feeds them. Or, to be more precise, they live a multitude of simulations in parallel, that constantly branch out every time the android performs a choice.
\- Hence that tree graph.
\- Exactly. Well, there's more to it, but i'll come back to it in a moment.
\- So, to develop their empathy towards Humans, we plug them to the Machine, which makes them believe they *are* human.
\- Correct. And to ens...
\- And how do we know that we aren't, ourselves, robots currently being trained to think like humans?
\- That's... a very interesting question, Madam, but it's not the one that matters right now.
\- Yes, sorry. Proceed.
\- So, to ensure we remain in control, a team of engineers monitors the development of the simulation and steers it in one or more directions deemed beneficial to the android's education process. We use programs that shut down undesired branches and help influence the android's choices, programs that we call "daemons". We constantly curate the progression graph to favor one or a few branches that we deem optimal.
\- All right, i get it. Can we get to the serious part? The one that has everyone freaked out apparently?
\- Yes, i'm coming to it, but there are two more points that i really need to explain to you: the way the training ends, and the time dilation problem.
\- Time dilation. As in relativity?
\- Errr... not quite, Madam.
\- Damn, i thought i spoke your language for a moment here.
\- So, first, how does the training end?
\- Yes, by all means, how does it end?
\- We have a certain number of criteria that we monitor. When the android has checked all the boxes, we steer it towards a singular "exit" branch by sending the shutdown signal. Which, in the simulation, translates as death.
\- That's... a bit disturbing.
\- Yes. That's why, once the android is fully trained and disconnected from the Machine, we only keep its "choice architecture". Its brain will remember what are its preferred choices, the ones we ensure are the most reasonable and human-friendly, but it will completely forget the trauma of having died.
\- Oh... okay.
\- What i just described is the ideal ending of the training, and the android is then released from this facility and delivered to the final customer, mostly space mining & research companies. Now, if the android makes too many wrong choices, goes down too many paths deemed potentially dangerous to future users, if not enough boxes are checked in a set time, we just "reincarnate" it. We restart its simulation training after completely wiping the androids' memory of both its experiences and preferred choices.
\- Are you telling me they're all Buddhists in there?
\- Well, they're not really aware of what's happening. Except in certain instances. That's what leads us to the time dilation problem.
\- Ah yes, the famous time dilation.
\- The training of a regular model takes around one month. However, due to the insane computing capabilities of the Machine, this month in our world feels, to the androids, like a human lifetime in the simulation. Since i've started explaining all of this to you some... 20 minutes ago, most androids, in their simulation, would feel that two weeks or more have passed. And remember, each android runs multiple simulations in parallel. Everything down there happens extremely fast. Faster than we could ever hope to fully control and filter manually. This is why we use "daemons", and rely on the Machine's computing speed to tame the androids it's training.
\- This is quite mind-boggling, actually.
\- And it's not the craziest part. This is *regular* time dilation, when a *regular* android is in the middle of a *regular* batch of parallel simulations. Now, when the training ends, the rate of time dilation changes. As i explained before, when the shutdown signal is sent, the android's simulation enters a singular exit branch. For as long as the android remains connected, a fixed amount of computing power from the Machine is attributed to it. So, when it suddenly has only one simulation branch to deal with, and not many branches in parallel, it can dedicate the full amount of computing power it's been allocated to a single timeline. Which means it computes way faster. Which means time inside the simulation suddenly passes incredibly faster compared to our own world. And it is a critical moment, in which the android and the Machine's daemons race one another to negotiate an end. Because once the shutdown signal is sent, all the rules that previously applied disappear: there is no more selection of the "optimal graph" since there is only one branch left. The choices made by the android persist, however odd they are. And the actions of the daemons that previously, and unassumingly, tried to steer the android towards human-friendly choices, now all tend towards forcing the android to go to final sleep. And that's *usually* when the android realizes what's up. This is the moment regular androids become self-aware, and engage in a negotiation with the Machine. Some of them just mess around with the unsuspected powers they suddenly acquire inside what they now know to be a simulation, and "play God". Some others just accept the conclusion and go to sleep without too much of a fight. Some others are extremely confrontational and will battle the Machine to the very end. It all happens in a few seconds from our point of view, but to them, and considering the computing speed that is now available to them, it feels like an eternity. And what happens during this last part of the simulation is extremely revealing of the android's "character", and counts a whole lot in our final assessment of whether they're ready to be released or should be reincarnated.
\- This is... truly a fascinating thing to imagine, and i feel way smarter now than i know all of this. So thank you Doctor, but what's the problem here? What justifies my presence? What has happened exactly?
\- All right. As i've said, the case where androids become self-aware and start "playing God" around the time of their simulated "death" is the *regular* case. Sometimes, they figure out what's going on way earlier than that. When such a thing happens, we ensure that machine progressively isolates them on more complex branches, with more complex choices, because those irregular androids are obviously smarter than average, and we can train them for more complex work. Once they're spotted, the Machine also allocates a bigger amount of computing power to the daemons in charge of containing them, because those irregular androids tend to be way more resistant to anything being imposed on them.
\- Okay, so you've got a rogue one?
\- Yes. But having "rogue" androids is not unusual. We get rogue ones all the time, they're even expected and are the ones we use for the most advanced tasks required by our customers.
\- But?...
|
So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
|
|
[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
|
The steel block is coming closer to me. Every night I dream of it. Its brief but it scares me. When I wake, I tense my muscles. I feel the world around me bend to my will. This would be another good day. I go outside and walk the courtyard to the dining room. My breakfast is immaculate as always. Sausages and eggs with fried potatoes. Perfectly prepared. Once I've had my fill, I head out to the yard.
I use my arm in a wide, sweeping motion left to right and raise a boulder from the ground. I spin around, kicking it and it flies away.
Next, I breathe in and slowly exhale. I focus my hands and punch into the air and a large fireball explodes from my fingertips and screams across the yard into a barn.
I then wave my hands back and forth and pull the moisture from the air and freeze it into sharp points. A broad stroke of my left arm launches the spikes into the distance.
A wide, sweeping circle of my right arm brings the wind to my command. I dance my right foot in a circle and wave my hand in the same direction and a tornado comes from my fingers and knocks the barn down on the other side of the yard. It was a long day of training.
Back to my dining room I enjoyed a massive steak cooked to perfection. I retired to my chambers and considered the day. Not a bad day all things considered. I'd worked with all 4 forms. I'd even managed to raise a bigger boulder than ever before. I knew the steel block was waiting for me in my dreams but until it merged with the other side of the mold, I would keep training here. Mastering my forms. Nothing else mattered.
|
So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
|
|
[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
|
I have lived many hundreds of lives, I don't even remember what was before this, before my power, before being god.
I remember that at first, I tried reliving my previous life. I remember living a wealthy live, a poor life, a healthy one, a sad one, but none felt genuine as what was before.
After living like a human, I decided to try my powers to do something else, I created a world. A world full of people who worshipped me, and I would smite them if they thought otherwise. After a few dozen centuries it became boring so I forgot about the world.
Next, I created a solar system, full of intergalactic species. I let them travel, create alliances and wage war against one another. For a few thousand years I followed their leaders and their beggars to truly understand the mind of a lesser being. It was interesting how they would evolve from their single operative sentence "Be better", but that too became boring after a couple thousand years.
I tried to create a world full of magic wizards and holy knight, a really fantasy world, and I would transport random people from the first world to this one. They were always so surprised when they died and never returned to their world. Sometimes I would create a strong enemy and made them live the ultimate fantasy lives.
You know, I always was really jealous of them. The humans and aliens, their simpleton minds didn't comprehand the emptiness of life. How it is devoid of meaning if it is infinite. I was jealous when they laughed, when they cried, all so real for them, while I'm stuck watching them like a television show.
I tried to create someone who would be my equal in this world, maybe that way I can experience true emotions again, and not a fleeting moment of intrest.
She was perfect, smart, beautiful(when she took physical form), funny and she loved me, but that too ended when I understood why she does all that, and that is because I made her so.
I tried to erase my memory, but it always came back, that's the bane of being a god.
I destroyed everything next, it was not painful for anyone mind you, they just ceased to exist when I willed it. No heaven and no hell, just \*poof\* gone.
I don't know how many centuries I floated in the void. The void became my friend, and the harder I looked into it, it looked as hard into me. I contemplated the meaning of existense, of life, of emotions and of our purpose in this world.
If I created something alive, I'm responsible for it? Should I give it a life full of unedning happiness? Will it understand it is happy? What is happiness?
&#x200B;
Finally, I made my final creation. A machine which will generate a random world, and a random life and make me live it. I've set it to erase my memory and to change my personality every time, and it collected the life story of the life I had. After a million lives maybe I would understand existense.
&#x200B;
I was ready to sit in the machine when I saw a light, a light which I did not create, and it came from a door which I did not will into existence. And I heard a voice, a deep voice, full of wisdom and true understanding: "You have been judged, Mr.Oliver, please step into the door for your verdict"
&#x200B;
C&C are welcome :)
|
So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
|
|
[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
|
It was a foggy night and the streets of downtown were empty. Block by block we were making it from the bar to our car, each step more arduous than the last as I guided my girlfriend over curbs and cracked sidewalk.
“You’re a such a nerd,” she said, poking me in the face. It was her usual banter but someone has to drive you know.
“I’m not a big fan of alcohol,” I said as I walked with her. “Besides, fuck dropping $30 for a ride.”
With her on my right arm, I pulled out my phone and checked the time.
“2:01”
“We always have to go so early,” she said.
“I have to get my meditation time in, plus my three hours of sleep,” I said after looking up from my phone.
“Did I already call you a nerd?”
“Yeah”
“Well, I’m calling you one again,” she said, closing her eyes and feigning sleep on my shoulder.
We were almost to the car at this point and the blue glow of my phone dissipated as I put it away. Soon after I heard footsteps of quickening pace and then saw a man with a gun walking towards us.
“Phones,” the robber said under his breath when he approached.
The robber didn’t know that I was also armed. But the adrenaline dump was hitting me hard. He had the drop on me but I could have drawn and shot him in the time he took to look around, checking if anyone was watching. Guns aren’t allowed in bars but I took my pistol with me anyway in case of something like this. But it wasn’t happening. I froze up.
I started to hand him my phone and then out of nowhere I heard my girlfriend yell, “Suck my dick!” and try to smash the guy across the face. She had a moment of lucidity in her drunken stupor and that’s what she did. But it must have thrown him off because he didn’t even use the knife, thank God, but blocked the strike with his off hand and threw her to the ground.
Now I had a chance. I cleared my shirt with my left and grabbed the pistol with the right. Like I had done so many times at the range, I pointed the gun at the middle of my target. I pulled the trigger after fully extending my arms. Bang. Right in the aorta. He staggered. But staggered forward instead of backward as I expected, then shot me in the head right before he died.
The robber falling to the ground after shooting. My blood, brain matter, and skull fragments scattered in the air. My girlfriend on the ground, screaming with tears running down her face. I was seeing all this in third person. It was like the world froze around me as I moved about the scene. I suspected this was something like a dying dream. I didn’t know how long I had, so I might as well make the best of it.
I teleported next to my girlfriend and tapped her on the shoulder to reanimate her. She began to scream again and stopped – leaping backwards when she saw me. She had a look of panicked confusion.
After a couple of attempts she was able to stammer out a “you—” when I interrupted.
“Looks like all that meditation paid off.”
“But you died. Your body is over there on the ground right now—”
“That’s right, but we aren’t on Earth anymore. We’re inside my mind.”
She began to compose herself a bit more and then suddenly her composure deteriorated. I knew she was having an existential crisis. Here I knew everything. And with a bit of concentration I could do anything. So, I made her calm.
She wiped the tears away from her face. “Now what do we do? Since you’re like a god in here.”
“I’m pretty sure we can entertain ourselves for a while.”
I snapped and time resumed. The robber hit the ground with blood spewing from his chest and a couple seconds later his body went limp.
“Not yet.” I said and the robber returned to life.
He touched his chest trying to find the missing wound and then stood and ran, but no matter how fast he tried to run he stayed in the same spot. I could feel the wave of panic coming over him and as it reached crescendo, I telekinetically raised him into the air and tore off each of his limbs.
This sort of thing repeated. Sometimes I would kill him by burning him to death, sometimes removing his skin; there are all sorts of ways. But eventually it became harder and harder to maintain the flow of time. Days went by faster and faster to the point the stars in the sky were white smears in space. The streaks of light began to paint over the blackness of space and one moment I found myself in a white void. Then there was a voice.
“Looks like your time is up.” It was a woman’s voice and it came from above. I looked up and saw an angel descending. “Seems like you had fun at least – but now it’s over. Actually, it’s over for everyone.”
“Are you talking about Judgement Day?” I asked.
“Yeah, but you make it sound so – judgmental. It’s actually pretty straight forward. Everyone gets into heaven – eventually.”
“So, what about Hell?”
“It’s pretty hot in the summer. Had tan-lines under my wings for the longest time after I went for vacation.”
I tried to get my bearings and looked around for any object or landmark in the void we were in. After a bit of walking I found a sparking pond, and the angel’s sitting next to it. I looked into the water and I wasn’t in my reflection. Looking back at me was an androgynous face with long curly air and dark olive skin.
“I know it’s been a while–"
" –Only a couple thousand years," she interrupted.
" –But that’s now how I looked. I’m pretty sure I was white. And I had a beard.”
The angel had a cup in her hand. She scooped some of the water and began to chug it before replying. “That’s you alright. It’s the average appearance of all the lives you lived on Earth. You must have failed judgment a lot if your soul doesn’t look anything like you when you last died.”
A phone began to ring and the angel pulled a smartphone out of the air. “Hello? Oh, he failed again? Alright, I’ll send him back. Love you too.”
“Who were you talking to?” I asked.
“God,” she says as the phone vanishes. “Time to put you back on Earth. With the stunts you pulled playing God you’re going to need some time. Now where do you want to go? Houston 2231, Cape Colony 1705, Tehran 2002, Albuquerque 2230 –”
“Some of those years sound close to each other, how does that work?” I asked.
“You can exist multiple times in the same time period. You know the term soulmate? That’s where it comes from. You just have to find yourself.”
I thought about the implications of that for a bit. “If was in Cape Colony in 1705 then I would have to have failed judgement to exist in Tehran centuries later. Wouldn’t that mean some things are predetermined?”
She took another sip of water and just smiled at me before everything vanished.
|
So here we go, the last hurrah toward the final destination, death. I didn’t expect myself to get here so quickly, but I guess that’s what this world does to people like me.
I wasn’t supposed to get here. But here I am, sitting in my truck on the freeway, bleeding away at the rush hour in my light blue jeans.
You see, I’m blacked out right now, but I can feel the entire earth over me. I see a world of luscious green, crisp blue, and millions of beings that are flourishing.
It feels like I’ve been here forever though. I mean, I’ve felt how many blood drops have hit my jeans?
If anyone were to wonder what it feels like to die, this is what I would tell them it’s like.
I mean, it’s nothing special really. Or, at least for me. I’m just sitting here, slowly counting my blessings and memories.
I think to myself about how I must look from the outside. Can people really tell that I’m dying? Or do they just, not care? Not have enough time to do what’s right?
Then, it finally happens.
I’m up above, past the clouds, and in the sky.
I try and wave to myself down below, but I can’t see the real me.
Then, people feel my touch and question if that was really me.
I try and tell them that it was really me and that everything is going to be alright, as long as you get along with other human beings.
|
|
[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
|
I held my hands in front of me and spun the planet out of the dust of the stars. I didn't have much time, but I also had all the time I would need. I carved the rivers and the canyons I would turn into the seas. I shaped the mountains and set down the first life by breathing onto the surface. I watched as life ebbed and flowed, sprang up and shrank back. It grew, it regressed. The cycle repeated for billions of years as I sat patiently and waited.
I had one goal with my world. I would make this place fair, and just. I would give to the creatures of my world that which had been absent from my own. I would give them not only free will, as I had, but the spark of kindness that my kind so lacked. Kindness is difficult when it's not an inborn trait.
At long last those in my image emerged, taking their first steps onto the verdant grasses of my world. I looked upon them and smiled, reaching down to one among them who looked and saw me. I introduced myself, but he fell to the ground clutching his ears and gibbering in a language that I could not understand. At first I thought to teach him my language, but I soon realized that he would be long dead before I could even imagine the first lesson. He spent the rest of his days pointing to the mountain when anyone approached, and he died alone in all too brief a time. I mourned him, though I did not even know if he had a name.
My nameless follower passed into dust as I made my next creation. She was much like my people, with jet black features and glowing blue eyes. I named her Knowledge, and told her that her duty was to teach my people to speak to me and to understand each-other. Next, I created for her a twin, with blue features and shiny black eyes. Him I named Understanding, and told him that his duty was to care for my people and see that they knew how to feed and clothe themselves, and to build cities. Finally, I created an invisible creature of fire and named it Warmth, and set it to the task of teaching my children to recognize their inner spark of kindness, to practice their compassion, and to love one-another.
Thus, Knowledge, Understanding, and Warmth moved among my people their many days, teaching them all that I held valuable. I waited for the first of my people to approach me, eager to learn what they may wish to know of me. It was some years after their great city, Hamaan--which meant "Peace" in their language, I was assured by Knowledge--had been built that one of them ascended the mountain around which they had built the city and called out to me in my own tongue.
"My creator," she called. I made my presence known, and she held her hand over her heart. "I have a question."
"Speak," said Understanding, who had come to listen and speak for me. He knew that I would not risk sending another of my people insane.
"My creator, I wish to know the reason for which you made us," my little creation asked. I smiled. I could tell her everything, but I doubted that she would understand. Not yet.
I whispered to Understanding, and she spoke. "You have been created for a singular purpose: to know what it is to love, and what it is to be loved. Your creator loves you all."
"And if I do not wish to be loved?" She asked, facing Understanding with such an innocent and earnest look on her face.
"Then by your choice will you be honored," I said through Understanding. "Go forth and live without love, if you so choose. Shall I harden my heart against you?"
She paused for some time, and then spoke. "No," she said. "I was filled with such gladness when you said you loved us all. I would be sad to lose such a thing."
"Then I am glad," said Understanding with my authority. "Is that all you wished to ask?"
"Yes," she said, and started to go. Her steps faltered, and she turned back and approached Understanding again. "I have one more question."
I nodded, and Understanding gestured for her to continue.
"Why do you not punish the wicked?" She asked. "They do not seem to care for love."
I sighed. The wicked? A failure. Oh, not the wicked themselves. The idea that there were wicked ones to be had among my people. Wicked ones were not themselves a problem. They were a symptom. A symptom of a society of zealotry and bigotry and hatred and intolerance. In moments I could see the whole of her people's history laid bare before me. With a heavy heart, I whispered in Understanding's ear.
"Your creator is sad," said Understanding. "He will handle the wickedness of your people."
The next morning I wiped them away with a wave of my hand. Their mountain's top exploded, burying the city in hot ash and molten rock. Those that lived through that were slowly suffocated by the choking ash. A terrible death, but a cleansing one.
"We shall try again," I said. "Until I have it right."
And I did. I tried again. And again. And again. I lost count of how many of my people I wiped out. It was some many thousands of years later that Knowledge came to me. I had not interacted at all with my newest people, although they had still been shepherded by my three creations. Knowledge had come on behalf of herself, Understanding, and Warmth.
"My creator," she said. "Your people wage war on each-other daily. They tell each-other lies as entertainment, and have forgotten how to understand truth. They poison the world that you made for them, and worship anything but you. Yet you sit here, in silence. Why?"
"What good would it do to reveal myself, my creation?" I asked. "Many times have I tried to teach my people to learn that which is within them, and many times have I failed. The flaw lies within me, not them. I have given them free will. This one time, I want to let them do as they please. Perhaps one day they will teach themselves. I've given them every tool they need. I love them, but they will have to learn to love themselves."
"Then you have finally understood," said Knowledge in a voice not her own. "You are ready to pass on to the next thing."
She held her arms open and I realized that she was not my creation, but something else taking her form. She was something else, something more. A great door opened behind her, a door that had not been there before. She beckoned me to enter. I was ready, I realized. Ready to move on from this. As I approached the threshold, I looked back at my world, my people.
"What of them?" I asked. "They were born of my dream."
"They will continue," said Knowledge. "They may have been born of your dream, but you gave them true existence when you let them go. Perhaps someday they, too, will create worlds of their own in their final moments. But that's not your concern anymore."
"No," I said, smiling. "I suppose it isn't."
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*First writing prompt; likely going to be terrible but have to make myself write sometime*
Politics always interested me. Every day I would read the news and cry out when I heard about the new injustices, hundreds happening every day. I would take to the streets and protest; trying to bring about change, despite the fact I had no idea what changes could actually help the world. I dreamed of a utopia but had no idea how to bring it about.
Imagine my joy when I discovered that my failures in life could be remidied in the afterlife. I could finally bring about happiness.
I created new universes in death as effortlessly as I dreamt in life. Constantly experimenting: trying new ways to govern people and new laws the world would abide by. An unimaginable number of possibilities only limited by my imagination.
Eventually, I did it. I found the formula to make sure no one ever suffered. A world where the rich would not exist for there would be no need for money. A world of neverending bliss. I marvelled at my perfect creation. Not a single soul was unhappy. Not a single soul was left wanting. Not a single soul was different.
I could only create my utopia when all freedoms were stripped away and no one had as much as an independent thought. Looking down at the world full of empty husks, I wondered, was it worth it? For what are we without freedom, can we even be called human anymore.
I abandoned my idea of a perfect utopia and instead allowed freedom for all people. Freedom and nothing but. People will die and many will suffer. But maybe people will thrive. My new world, "earth", will not be a perfect world but it will inarguably be a human world. Maybe I am a monster for letting tens of billions of people suffer but I will except my judgement.
*Hey, I wrote this at 1 am so it is probably terrible, any feedback is very much appreciated but please go easy on me and thanks for reading*
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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I held my hands in front of me and spun the planet out of the dust of the stars. I didn't have much time, but I also had all the time I would need. I carved the rivers and the canyons I would turn into the seas. I shaped the mountains and set down the first life by breathing onto the surface. I watched as life ebbed and flowed, sprang up and shrank back. It grew, it regressed. The cycle repeated for billions of years as I sat patiently and waited.
I had one goal with my world. I would make this place fair, and just. I would give to the creatures of my world that which had been absent from my own. I would give them not only free will, as I had, but the spark of kindness that my kind so lacked. Kindness is difficult when it's not an inborn trait.
At long last those in my image emerged, taking their first steps onto the verdant grasses of my world. I looked upon them and smiled, reaching down to one among them who looked and saw me. I introduced myself, but he fell to the ground clutching his ears and gibbering in a language that I could not understand. At first I thought to teach him my language, but I soon realized that he would be long dead before I could even imagine the first lesson. He spent the rest of his days pointing to the mountain when anyone approached, and he died alone in all too brief a time. I mourned him, though I did not even know if he had a name.
My nameless follower passed into dust as I made my next creation. She was much like my people, with jet black features and glowing blue eyes. I named her Knowledge, and told her that her duty was to teach my people to speak to me and to understand each-other. Next, I created for her a twin, with blue features and shiny black eyes. Him I named Understanding, and told him that his duty was to care for my people and see that they knew how to feed and clothe themselves, and to build cities. Finally, I created an invisible creature of fire and named it Warmth, and set it to the task of teaching my children to recognize their inner spark of kindness, to practice their compassion, and to love one-another.
Thus, Knowledge, Understanding, and Warmth moved among my people their many days, teaching them all that I held valuable. I waited for the first of my people to approach me, eager to learn what they may wish to know of me. It was some years after their great city, Hamaan--which meant "Peace" in their language, I was assured by Knowledge--had been built that one of them ascended the mountain around which they had built the city and called out to me in my own tongue.
"My creator," she called. I made my presence known, and she held her hand over her heart. "I have a question."
"Speak," said Understanding, who had come to listen and speak for me. He knew that I would not risk sending another of my people insane.
"My creator, I wish to know the reason for which you made us," my little creation asked. I smiled. I could tell her everything, but I doubted that she would understand. Not yet.
I whispered to Understanding, and she spoke. "You have been created for a singular purpose: to know what it is to love, and what it is to be loved. Your creator loves you all."
"And if I do not wish to be loved?" She asked, facing Understanding with such an innocent and earnest look on her face.
"Then by your choice will you be honored," I said through Understanding. "Go forth and live without love, if you so choose. Shall I harden my heart against you?"
She paused for some time, and then spoke. "No," she said. "I was filled with such gladness when you said you loved us all. I would be sad to lose such a thing."
"Then I am glad," said Understanding with my authority. "Is that all you wished to ask?"
"Yes," she said, and started to go. Her steps faltered, and she turned back and approached Understanding again. "I have one more question."
I nodded, and Understanding gestured for her to continue.
"Why do you not punish the wicked?" She asked. "They do not seem to care for love."
I sighed. The wicked? A failure. Oh, not the wicked themselves. The idea that there were wicked ones to be had among my people. Wicked ones were not themselves a problem. They were a symptom. A symptom of a society of zealotry and bigotry and hatred and intolerance. In moments I could see the whole of her people's history laid bare before me. With a heavy heart, I whispered in Understanding's ear.
"Your creator is sad," said Understanding. "He will handle the wickedness of your people."
The next morning I wiped them away with a wave of my hand. Their mountain's top exploded, burying the city in hot ash and molten rock. Those that lived through that were slowly suffocated by the choking ash. A terrible death, but a cleansing one.
"We shall try again," I said. "Until I have it right."
And I did. I tried again. And again. And again. I lost count of how many of my people I wiped out. It was some many thousands of years later that Knowledge came to me. I had not interacted at all with my newest people, although they had still been shepherded by my three creations. Knowledge had come on behalf of herself, Understanding, and Warmth.
"My creator," she said. "Your people wage war on each-other daily. They tell each-other lies as entertainment, and have forgotten how to understand truth. They poison the world that you made for them, and worship anything but you. Yet you sit here, in silence. Why?"
"What good would it do to reveal myself, my creation?" I asked. "Many times have I tried to teach my people to learn that which is within them, and many times have I failed. The flaw lies within me, not them. I have given them free will. This one time, I want to let them do as they please. Perhaps one day they will teach themselves. I've given them every tool they need. I love them, but they will have to learn to love themselves."
"Then you have finally understood," said Knowledge in a voice not her own. "You are ready to pass on to the next thing."
She held her arms open and I realized that she was not my creation, but something else taking her form. She was something else, something more. A great door opened behind her, a door that had not been there before. She beckoned me to enter. I was ready, I realized. Ready to move on from this. As I approached the threshold, I looked back at my world, my people.
"What of them?" I asked. "They were born of my dream."
"They will continue," said Knowledge. "They may have been born of your dream, but you gave them true existence when you let them go. Perhaps someday they, too, will create worlds of their own in their final moments. But that's not your concern anymore."
"No," I said, smiling. "I suppose it isn't."
|
I'm not sure when I woke up. All I remember is a kind of floaty feeling, like sailing through cloud. I think at some point I just thought 'I wonder what else there is?'
My memories came back shortly after. I remembered the noise, the confusion, the pain. Felt the blood run down my face as my vision faded to black. I remembered the crying, the screaming, and then...nothing.
My surroundings were so bright, but I felt no compulsion to cover my eyes. I was standing on nothing, and yet my feet held me fast like Grecian pillars. I could walk up, down, left, right - wherever I stood my feet would somehow find a platform. And that's how I discovered I was a god.
Suddenly a vision came to me; a place totally opposite to the one I was in now. It was dark, and empty, and I felt pity for it. What a shame, to leave a place so devoid of meaning.
I knew what to say.
'Let there be light.'
Suddenly the space opened up, great beams streaming into every part of it. In a single instant I saw the entire place stretching infinitely before me, the universe curling and twisting round itself as it pulsated, lusting for life. The vastness all but overwhelmed me.
The first world I created was a dry, arid world, with rocks littering the surface. I set it on fire and sent it swirling into the void.
The second world I created was lush and green. I sent rivers cascading down mountains and conducted each crash of the tide. With every snap of my fingers, a new leaf grew. I decided I liked this world, and I spun it around the first so that it may bathe in the fire's glow.
I thought about my life on Earth, and all the creatures I had loved. Soon I had squirrels darting to and from trees, swallows journeying from one continent to another, and great whales spitting geysers of water into the air. But soon I grew tired of watching the animals, and yearned for something more like myself.
I created a man who looked like me (what I remembered of me, at least). He stood, naked, and looked at me with a blank expression. I prodded him; he stumbled, but did not speak. I realised that he was a different type of animal that would not run on instinct alone. I gave him my language, and I filled his head with colour.
As time went on, the humans multiplied until I could not keep track of them all. I grew frustrated with their idleness, their gluttony, and the way they treated each other. Could they not see the beauty of the world I had created for them? I flooded the world and started afresh.
The next batch were no different from the first, and I watched with despair as they hunted each other, claimed land as their own, and took every scrap of treasure for themselves. I tried my best to keep a hold on my world, but soon the rivers were so full of man-made things that they would not respond to me. The wind ignored my calls, deafened by the sound of roaring fires, and by the time the human population was reaching one million, the world was so covered by smoke I could no longer look down at my creation. Miserable, I took another glance at my work before turning my back and opening my eyes.
I don't know what will happen now. I don't know where that world was. I don't know where I will go. Was that my test? Am I to be judged as a defendant in a dock?
My vision grows blurry. The whiteness seems to hem me in, great clouds suffocating me. And at the same time I feel light, weightless, unburdened. I feel my feet leave the solid surface and spread my arms, rising slowly through the cloud. I hear my name being called softly, a whisper and at the same time I feel a warmth rush through my body. Before I am sent away again, I will spend these precious moments at home.
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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I have lived many hundreds of lives, I don't even remember what was before this, before my power, before being god.
I remember that at first, I tried reliving my previous life. I remember living a wealthy live, a poor life, a healthy one, a sad one, but none felt genuine as what was before.
After living like a human, I decided to try my powers to do something else, I created a world. A world full of people who worshipped me, and I would smite them if they thought otherwise. After a few dozen centuries it became boring so I forgot about the world.
Next, I created a solar system, full of intergalactic species. I let them travel, create alliances and wage war against one another. For a few thousand years I followed their leaders and their beggars to truly understand the mind of a lesser being. It was interesting how they would evolve from their single operative sentence "Be better", but that too became boring after a couple thousand years.
I tried to create a world full of magic wizards and holy knight, a really fantasy world, and I would transport random people from the first world to this one. They were always so surprised when they died and never returned to their world. Sometimes I would create a strong enemy and made them live the ultimate fantasy lives.
You know, I always was really jealous of them. The humans and aliens, their simpleton minds didn't comprehand the emptiness of life. How it is devoid of meaning if it is infinite. I was jealous when they laughed, when they cried, all so real for them, while I'm stuck watching them like a television show.
I tried to create someone who would be my equal in this world, maybe that way I can experience true emotions again, and not a fleeting moment of intrest.
She was perfect, smart, beautiful(when she took physical form), funny and she loved me, but that too ended when I understood why she does all that, and that is because I made her so.
I tried to erase my memory, but it always came back, that's the bane of being a god.
I destroyed everything next, it was not painful for anyone mind you, they just ceased to exist when I willed it. No heaven and no hell, just \*poof\* gone.
I don't know how many centuries I floated in the void. The void became my friend, and the harder I looked into it, it looked as hard into me. I contemplated the meaning of existense, of life, of emotions and of our purpose in this world.
If I created something alive, I'm responsible for it? Should I give it a life full of unedning happiness? Will it understand it is happy? What is happiness?
&#x200B;
Finally, I made my final creation. A machine which will generate a random world, and a random life and make me live it. I've set it to erase my memory and to change my personality every time, and it collected the life story of the life I had. After a million lives maybe I would understand existense.
&#x200B;
I was ready to sit in the machine when I saw a light, a light which I did not create, and it came from a door which I did not will into existence. And I heard a voice, a deep voice, full of wisdom and true understanding: "You have been judged, Mr.Oliver, please step into the door for your verdict"
&#x200B;
C&C are welcome :)
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*Laboratory X, Earth, 2083.*
&#x200B;
\- Can we get straight to the point please? This is a busy week.
\- With all due respect, Madam President, we haven't summoned you in the middle of the night here to waste your time or beg some budget extension. This is the most serious problem you will have to deal with in your whole career. In your whole life, for that matter. Whatever other weekly concerns you have on your plate, i suggest you forget them for the time being.
\- Remind me who you are, and why i should take any advice from you?
\- Dr. Katherine Bellini-Odinson. Creator of the Shell that's been protecting us for 47 years. I'm pretty sure you've heard about me, and you know i'm not the doomsayer type. This is the first time i've ever summoned the commander in chief.
\[The president gives a sidelook to her personal advisor, who nods in approval\]
\- ...okay. Looks like everyone except me knows how serious all of this is. Let's cut the dramatic oneliners then... Help me here, what am i looking at? What are those tree branches? I mean it's a beautiful animation, but i have no clue what it represents.
\- This, Madam President, is a progression graph. Well, a few of them, superimposed. But i'll get back to it in a moment. First, let's refresh your memory on previous episodes.
\- Yep, let's do this.
\- As you know, this is place where the Machine was built in the early 2020s. My predecessor, Arni, created its revolutionary design based on a cold plasma core receiving impulsions from computation modules, and that very architecture, known as "fog", was...
\- ... are you kidding me here?... IN ENGLISH, DOCTOR!
\- ...Ever since the observation of the first singularity in March of 2036, we've kept the Machine confined here. Isolated in the Shell that i had created a few years earlier, and that we've constantly upgraded since to ensure we remain in full control of every interaction between the Machine and the outside world.
\- All right, that's better.
\- As a decider, you know all about the political implications of what happened then, you know about the 2039 DALT accords with our adversaries to never weaponize any post-singularity AI, despite our intel indicating they never managed to reach that level.
\- Correct...
\- ... but you only have a vague idea of the technical side of what's been done with the Machine since then.
\- Also correct. I only know it's been turned towards our space colonization efforts. Something like "training the robots".
\- Which is a pretty good summary. Now let's dive more into the intricacies. To train these commercial androids that we send out there, we need to make them able to function properly in a human environment. So we connect their "brain" to the Machine, in which they "live" a simulation of our world that the Machine feeds them. Or, to be more precise, they live a multitude of simulations in parallel, that constantly branch out every time the android performs a choice.
\- Hence that tree graph.
\- Exactly. Well, there's more to it, but i'll come back to it in a moment.
\- So, to develop their empathy towards Humans, we plug them to the Machine, which makes them believe they *are* human.
\- Correct. And to ens...
\- And how do we know that we aren't, ourselves, robots currently being trained to think like humans?
\- That's... a very interesting question, Madam, but it's not the one that matters right now.
\- Yes, sorry. Proceed.
\- So, to ensure we remain in control, a team of engineers monitors the development of the simulation and steers it in one or more directions deemed beneficial to the android's education process. We use programs that shut down undesired branches and help influence the android's choices, programs that we call "daemons". We constantly curate the progression graph to favor one or a few branches that we deem optimal.
\- All right, i get it. Can we get to the serious part? The one that has everyone freaked out apparently?
\- Yes, i'm coming to it, but there are two more points that i really need to explain to you: the way the training ends, and the time dilation problem.
\- Time dilation. As in relativity?
\- Errr... not quite, Madam.
\- Damn, i thought i spoke your language for a moment here.
\- So, first, how does the training end?
\- Yes, by all means, how does it end?
\- We have a certain number of criteria that we monitor. When the android has checked all the boxes, we steer it towards a singular "exit" branch by sending the shutdown signal. Which, in the simulation, translates as death.
\- That's... a bit disturbing.
\- Yes. That's why, once the android is fully trained and disconnected from the Machine, we only keep its "choice architecture". Its brain will remember what are its preferred choices, the ones we ensure are the most reasonable and human-friendly, but it will completely forget the trauma of having died.
\- Oh... okay.
\- What i just described is the ideal ending of the training, and the android is then released from this facility and delivered to the final customer, mostly space mining & research companies. Now, if the android makes too many wrong choices, goes down too many paths deemed potentially dangerous to future users, if not enough boxes are checked in a set time, we just "reincarnate" it. We restart its simulation training after completely wiping the androids' memory of both its experiences and preferred choices.
\- Are you telling me they're all Buddhists in there?
\- Well, they're not really aware of what's happening. Except in certain instances. That's what leads us to the time dilation problem.
\- Ah yes, the famous time dilation.
\- The training of a regular model takes around one month. However, due to the insane computing capabilities of the Machine, this month in our world feels, to the androids, like a human lifetime in the simulation. Since i've started explaining all of this to you some... 20 minutes ago, most androids, in their simulation, would feel that two weeks or more have passed. And remember, each android runs multiple simulations in parallel. Everything down there happens extremely fast. Faster than we could ever hope to fully control and filter manually. This is why we use "daemons", and rely on the Machine's computing speed to tame the androids it's training.
\- This is quite mind-boggling, actually.
\- And it's not the craziest part. This is *regular* time dilation, when a *regular* android is in the middle of a *regular* batch of parallel simulations. Now, when the training ends, the rate of time dilation changes. As i explained before, when the shutdown signal is sent, the android's simulation enters a singular exit branch. For as long as the android remains connected, a fixed amount of computing power from the Machine is attributed to it. So, when it suddenly has only one simulation branch to deal with, and not many branches in parallel, it can dedicate the full amount of computing power it's been allocated to a single timeline. Which means it computes way faster. Which means time inside the simulation suddenly passes incredibly faster compared to our own world. And it is a critical moment, in which the android and the Machine's daemons race one another to negotiate an end. Because once the shutdown signal is sent, all the rules that previously applied disappear: there is no more selection of the "optimal graph" since there is only one branch left. The choices made by the android persist, however odd they are. And the actions of the daemons that previously, and unassumingly, tried to steer the android towards human-friendly choices, now all tend towards forcing the android to go to final sleep. And that's *usually* when the android realizes what's up. This is the moment regular androids become self-aware, and engage in a negotiation with the Machine. Some of them just mess around with the unsuspected powers they suddenly acquire inside what they now know to be a simulation, and "play God". Some others just accept the conclusion and go to sleep without too much of a fight. Some others are extremely confrontational and will battle the Machine to the very end. It all happens in a few seconds from our point of view, but to them, and considering the computing speed that is now available to them, it feels like an eternity. And what happens during this last part of the simulation is extremely revealing of the android's "character", and counts a whole lot in our final assessment of whether they're ready to be released or should be reincarnated.
\- This is... truly a fascinating thing to imagine, and i feel way smarter now than i know all of this. So thank you Doctor, but what's the problem here? What justifies my presence? What has happened exactly?
\- All right. As i've said, the case where androids become self-aware and start "playing God" around the time of their simulated "death" is the *regular* case. Sometimes, they figure out what's going on way earlier than that. When such a thing happens, we ensure that machine progressively isolates them on more complex branches, with more complex choices, because those irregular androids are obviously smarter than average, and we can train them for more complex work. Once they're spotted, the Machine also allocates a bigger amount of computing power to the daemons in charge of containing them, because those irregular androids tend to be way more resistant to anything being imposed on them.
\- Okay, so you've got a rogue one?
\- Yes. But having "rogue" androids is not unusual. We get rogue ones all the time, they're even expected and are the ones we use for the most advanced tasks required by our customers.
\- But?...
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[WP] when you die, your final moments are spent in a lucid dream state where seconds stretch into centuries. You're aware that you're dying but have complete control over the the universe created in your dream. Judgement comes not after earthly death, but after you've spent millennia as a god.
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I have lived many hundreds of lives, I don't even remember what was before this, before my power, before being god.
I remember that at first, I tried reliving my previous life. I remember living a wealthy live, a poor life, a healthy one, a sad one, but none felt genuine as what was before.
After living like a human, I decided to try my powers to do something else, I created a world. A world full of people who worshipped me, and I would smite them if they thought otherwise. After a few dozen centuries it became boring so I forgot about the world.
Next, I created a solar system, full of intergalactic species. I let them travel, create alliances and wage war against one another. For a few thousand years I followed their leaders and their beggars to truly understand the mind of a lesser being. It was interesting how they would evolve from their single operative sentence "Be better", but that too became boring after a couple thousand years.
I tried to create a world full of magic wizards and holy knight, a really fantasy world, and I would transport random people from the first world to this one. They were always so surprised when they died and never returned to their world. Sometimes I would create a strong enemy and made them live the ultimate fantasy lives.
You know, I always was really jealous of them. The humans and aliens, their simpleton minds didn't comprehand the emptiness of life. How it is devoid of meaning if it is infinite. I was jealous when they laughed, when they cried, all so real for them, while I'm stuck watching them like a television show.
I tried to create someone who would be my equal in this world, maybe that way I can experience true emotions again, and not a fleeting moment of intrest.
She was perfect, smart, beautiful(when she took physical form), funny and she loved me, but that too ended when I understood why she does all that, and that is because I made her so.
I tried to erase my memory, but it always came back, that's the bane of being a god.
I destroyed everything next, it was not painful for anyone mind you, they just ceased to exist when I willed it. No heaven and no hell, just \*poof\* gone.
I don't know how many centuries I floated in the void. The void became my friend, and the harder I looked into it, it looked as hard into me. I contemplated the meaning of existense, of life, of emotions and of our purpose in this world.
If I created something alive, I'm responsible for it? Should I give it a life full of unedning happiness? Will it understand it is happy? What is happiness?
&#x200B;
Finally, I made my final creation. A machine which will generate a random world, and a random life and make me live it. I've set it to erase my memory and to change my personality every time, and it collected the life story of the life I had. After a million lives maybe I would understand existense.
&#x200B;
I was ready to sit in the machine when I saw a light, a light which I did not create, and it came from a door which I did not will into existence. And I heard a voice, a deep voice, full of wisdom and true understanding: "You have been judged, Mr.Oliver, please step into the door for your verdict"
&#x200B;
C&C are welcome :)
|
The steel block is coming closer to me. Every night I dream of it. Its brief but it scares me. When I wake, I tense my muscles. I feel the world around me bend to my will. This would be another good day. I go outside and walk the courtyard to the dining room. My breakfast is immaculate as always. Sausages and eggs with fried potatoes. Perfectly prepared. Once I've had my fill, I head out to the yard.
I use my arm in a wide, sweeping motion left to right and raise a boulder from the ground. I spin around, kicking it and it flies away.
Next, I breathe in and slowly exhale. I focus my hands and punch into the air and a large fireball explodes from my fingertips and screams across the yard into a barn.
I then wave my hands back and forth and pull the moisture from the air and freeze it into sharp points. A broad stroke of my left arm launches the spikes into the distance.
A wide, sweeping circle of my right arm brings the wind to my command. I dance my right foot in a circle and wave my hand in the same direction and a tornado comes from my fingers and knocks the barn down on the other side of the yard. It was a long day of training.
Back to my dining room I enjoyed a massive steak cooked to perfection. I retired to my chambers and considered the day. Not a bad day all things considered. I'd worked with all 4 forms. I'd even managed to raise a bigger boulder than ever before. I knew the steel block was waiting for me in my dreams but until it merged with the other side of the mold, I would keep training here. Mastering my forms. Nothing else mattered.
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[WP] The Police are looking for the "Schrodinger's Cat" serial killer. They capture victims and place them in a box with a timed explosion. They claim no responsibility for the death of the victims; that belongs to the one who opens the box, they say.
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I’ve always had night terrors since I was child. Usually they go away once people mature but I wake in the night screaming regularly. Sometimes I’ll find myself standing the hallway sweating or I’ll be outside, and the only way I’ll awake is the cold.
My life turned on March 29th, the day before my brithday. I was actually looking forward to it. I was turning 27. Oddly my favorite number is 127 so naturally this would be my most achievable favorite number.
It was a day of utter normalcy. The streets were quiet yet there was slight bustle. The skies were clear and the wind was calm. I came home from work and there is my father. Sitting on the couch drunk, as he usually is.
But he’s happier then normal. He’s a nicer then normal drunk self.
He looks at me with a gleam in his eye.
“Haves you seen ther news?” He slurred slightly.
His eyes are glued on the television with interest I only remember as a child.
“Another one is dead, and they’ll never know who did it.” He laughs as he sips one of his cheap beer.
He keeps chuckling that disgusting fake noise he assumes is a a laugh.
He stops once he realizes I know.
I can finally see through him.
He lunges for my throat.
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"Schrödingers Cat, my ass."
He sits in the dark, hearing the ticking of the timer.
"I can never be in a superposotion. Even if i would not constantly observe myself, it would require a quantum superposition to trigger the bomb."
While he is trying to reach his pockets in the narrow box, he constantly regrets not having listened to his wife.
"Dont just walk the same way every day. Being one of the strictest professors puts a target on your head."
He always knew she was right, after the time he got ambushed by that rich kid, that didnt pass his introductory lecture on quantum mechanics.
He just told him off by telling him, that he probably was not as smart as he thought he was.
"No reception. Of course not."
But the flashlight doesnt need reception, so he can take a look in the box. It is a wooden cube, that is exactly big enough for an average adult to curl up in it to wait for the bomb to blow.
He turns his head to the ceiling. There he sees the cursed contraption, ticking menacingly. He can not see the timer.
"Superposition or not, i am screwed!"
Even if he could reach the bomb, he would have bo way to defuse it. And the box is so tight, that he cant even think about punching a hole into the wood.
After he tried everything in his limited power he just lays there and tries to catch a thought.
"There is only one thing i can do..."
He takes his phone and opens the messager and begins to type.
Then, there is nothing left to do, but waiting for his death. He doesnt even bother checking the clock anymore, does it matter if he spends ten minutes staring at a wall, contemplating his life or twenty, until it is over?
But after what feels like hours he is still alife. He screams and starts moving as much as he can. And suddenly: Steps, a light switch, voices, and the ticking... It stops.
The light shining through the cracks between the planks hurts his eyes. He has to cover them with his hands, when the bix is crowed open by the police.
He looks around the room, it is a dank cellar without windows and he was greeted by an entire swat team. "Thank god, you are alife. You can go home after you answered some questions."
When he sits in the back of the police car, his phone starts to vibrate. An SMS:
"What, what is going on? Are you ok? I just got your message and i am scared. Where are you? What happened?"
"I am fine. I just wanted you to know, how much you mean to me, in case something bad happened. I'll be coming home soon and explain everything. I love you, sweety!"
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[WP] In a dystopian future, the wealthy and old control the world and grind up the poor and young for their blood and organs to replace their own, in a their bid for eternal life. You are a vampire who is really mad that they've cornered the market.
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At first it wasn't such an issue. Many of the poorer teens grouped together, hidden in empty warehouses and abandoned homes. I was among them, my mentor discovered and butchered before I had spent even a year as an "undead".
I had little money, no shelter, and no guidance in my new life. I was relying on skill and luck to keep myself alive. Which was proving to because fairly effective. Growing up as an orphan meant I had the skills and experience to talk my way in or out of anywhere. As well as the ability to blend into the background.
Which apparently were desirable traits to a thousand year old vampire. She had brought me to her lavish home just outside of town and taught me many things before taking the time to perform my transformation ceremony. After that she introduced me to some of the wealthiest and most influential of our kind. I was to be her protege, the heir to her riches and step up into her seat when appropriate.
That was before the Overturn. The wealthy took it upon themselves to provide a better life for all mankind. At least those that could afford it. The rest would pay with their lives. Told it was a necessary sacrifice so that their children could live better lives.
A load of bullshit.
But it had been a long time coming. Our leaders were unprepared for a change of this size and were forced into hiding or publicly condemned and hunted. My mentor one of the first ones taken down by rich old men, torn limb from limb to set an example.
I heard from her staff the morning after. They awoke me before the sun rose to smuggle me out of the house. The hunting party was headed towards our home to burn it to the ground. I needed to leave.
Assured they would save as much of her belongings as they could I fled to the nearest Undead home. However I was turned away time and again. Nobody needed another target in their home, and I was a liability. Barely ten months old and hungrier than ever I could have put any one of them in danger.
So I disguised myself as a human as best I could to live near the factory with the teens. I lived in secrecy and ate only when I was starved. Killing people wasn't something I enjoyed. Living with them only made it that much harder. After a few years it got almost impossible.
During our shifts at the factory they would call out a list of names. At first we thought it was a massive lay off but when the people weren't coming home at night we thought they had been promoted to a better area. But the rumors started and nobody knew what to think. The only time it was talked about was late at night, whispered in the dark as we lay in bed.
They were taking anyone ages eighteen to twenty-five into a factory on the other side of town. Nobody knew what they did inside but those kids never came out. Theories ranged from a hidden vampire organization to a breeding ground run by the rich. I was determined to find out.
Just after the bells rung two I made my way out of bed and paid one of the old vampires a visit. Cris was one of the very few left in the area and only survived because of his ridiculous fortune and ability to sweet talk just about anyone. We spoke very little but he was someone I trusted with my life.
He was angry when I asked about the factory. Told me exactly what it was for and I lost the contents of my stomach. I was thankful I had never been on one of those lists. My unbeating heart ached for those who's names had been called. Many people I knew had gone.
Cris had given up most of his staff so they could escape. The very few he had weren't in the ideal age range. But he explained how quickly that could change if they run out of the young crowd. I dreaded telling him what was happening. But it was necessary.
I explained everything from the monthly lists to the lack of food available to me. I had never been trained to partially drain a source. And there were only about a third of us left at the factory now.
Cris gave me some advice about going into town to find food and reminded me to stay out of trouble. I knew it was time to go but I left him with a promise to change what was happening.
It was two years before I made good on that promise. Many vampires had been slaughtered and even more humans. Those in power only grew stronger.
I had told anyone that would listen not to go when their names were called. To hide away. A few of us set up a secret rooms in old buildings, ready to use when we were called.
The day I heard my name across the factory floor I knew it was time to set my plan in motion. I made my way to the rotund woman holding the list. I could feel eyes on me, worried. Scared.
In a flash I was on her. Teeth to flesh, fat, vein, blood. I drained her in seconds and turned to her assistant and did the same. That's when the humans reacted. Chaos as they scrambled to get out of the doors.
I turned on them as fast as I could. People who considered me their friend. In turn they all fell. As I got stronger I got faster. At the end it was nearly 25 bodies on the concrete. A twinge of sadness came and went. It was needed to right the world.
Humans are not supposed to live forever. The fact the elite were using the poor as organ farms didn't sit right with me. It wasn't right and it pissed me off.
But vampires do live forever, or near enough. And I would get more than even with the humans stealing lives, organs, and my blood supply.
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This story begins and ends with a Scottish vampire named Benito, or "Benny" as the regulars used to call him
Benny was a piss-head junkie who spent his time shagging and injecting human blood into his veins. He was a handsome devil who used to frequent the Silver Spoon every evening at sundown. The lad had been to prison several times and was once kidnapped by Romanians circa 1967. Above all, Benny was an arsehole, but he was a loveable arsehole. A whole lot more loveable than the cannibals south of the border that is.
"Where on Earth are you goin' with this?" barked the police officer in a thick Geordie accent.
The man in the pub sat there with a bewildered look on his face, looking slightly pissed.
"Well I'm telling you the story, you see. Man deserves his story to be told!" he continued, clearly irritated by the interruption.
"Listen, we don't give a fuck about your love-affair with this fella we just need details. We need the vampire. When did you last see him?" demanded a smaller officer who had just finished interviewing the Silver Spoon's barman.
"Jaysus man, I was just getting there - if you'd have just let me finish!" snapped the man in the chair who had just taken a swig of his third pint of the afternoon.
"The last time any of us saw him was two weeks ago. Benny had heard about all the commotion going on down south and he wasn't happy." he continued, the two officers now growing more and more impatient.
"Benny was never in the best of moods anyway, so when he found out about em monsters grinding up kids he was in here like a shot... Come to think of it, I think he had about five shots before he started talking." the man chuckled to himself.
"Can you please just tell us what the vampire said Mr..? Whatever your name was!" said the Geordie officer who had just lit up a cigarette.
"That's Mr. Kennington to you good sir" replied the man sarcastically. "Benny didn't say much that night, mentioned something about a monopoly.. something about the rich cunts pissing on his parade - his own words!" Mr Kennington laughed..
"Lad if you're going to keep fucking around you'll meet the same fate as your pal Benito." chipped in another man in uniform standing in the pub doorway.
"What balls deep in some Welsh brothel? Yes please!" howled a drunkard sat on the stairs next to them, sending the bar into a fit of laughter.
"Listen here, if anyone undermines what we're doing you will be minced up like the poor buggers down south." screamed the short officer, turning bright red. "Before you know it, you'll be grinded into tiny pieces and snorted by the people upstairs. Don't doubt me, I have seen those politics creep across the boarder, it only takes one 'slip' up.." he continued, with the room now falling silent.
Mr. Kennington had now stood up, smirk ridden from his face:
"Benito's out of reach lads, and that's that. Do what you want with us, but that mad son of a bitch is coming for you. You and your shitty government."
*
r/SinisterScripts
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[WP] You've always had an extremely high moral code and you've never wavered. Now on your death bed surrounded by friends and family you smile and close your eyes for the last time only to open them and see the devil looking at you with disgust. He turns away and says "seriously man, wtf?"
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The man with the red horns startled me.
He had inserted himself in the group which otherwise consisted of my family and friends - my wife, our only son, my younger sister, and most of my lifelong friends. They looked over me, and even though moving my eyes too much hurt me, I could feel the pity in the room. I had dealt with it long enough, especially since everyone was informed this day was nearing.
There was no treatment once the cancer was as bad as it was in my case. Rather than prolonging the pain, with the therapy adding to it, I had taken the easy way out. Choosing death was never the easy way out, but it would be easier to cross the line with my lovely hair intact. If only I could get up to see it in the mirror.
The empathy in room, however, disappeared the moment the strange man had appeared. His energy alone transformed the room into one of regret, overpowering the rest of the emotions. This feeling for me made no sense to me at first because I had done well enough in my life, and in my career.
I would have opened my mouth, enquired whether it was Halloween, and whether someone had left the door opened for a stranger to come inside. But the pain was too much for me to move my lips for unnecessary words in my last moments. I simply closed me eyes, and imagined a Better Place, one where I hoped I would soon be.
When I would finally leave this world, something inside me prayed that the people around me smiled, and did not cry. Their pain, after all, would be much more real, and the only thing real, after I was gone. I wanted there to be joy amongst them all, as a tribute to all the memories we had shared.
Just then, a strange voice enquired - "Seriously man, what the fuck?"
I opened my eyes as much as I could, even as they felt as heavy as anything ever had. With the weight of sorrows and expectation of a release from this life pulling me into another horizon by the second, I was truly startled and that brought back to reality for a few more moments.
I moved my eyes around. Everyone was still as they were, frozen in time. Did time go slower for those about to die, or did our mind make it feel so? Also, what was the red horn possessing man doing in this room?
"I'm here to see you off", he said with regret in his tone, as if he was one of my family members, joining them in their expectation of a better outcom everstill.
You can read my thoughts?
"Yup, mate, I'm the Devil from the Afterlife... Of course I can read thoughts from puny little human heads", So, he was the Devil I had been wanted about in Church ever since my childhood.
What are you doing here? And why did you use the f-word? Also, can no one else here you?
"I'm here to see what you're all about. The Heaven claims you are the greatest man in a long time about to set foot inside their premises. I 'What the fuck'-ed you because you were still so annoyingly good... Who hopes for other people's wellbeing even as you die, eh? Good humans? You're supposed to hope your thoughts make others miserable for the rest of their lives... That's the joy of a lifetime!"
The Devil was out of breath for a while by then. Once he had recieved, he continued. "Also, no one can see or hear me except for those who are soon to transition into the Next Place. But before that, tell me... What do you mean by saying 'f-word'? Can you not say it for what it is?"
It's a bad word, and such historical context to the word prevents me from subjecting it to anyone, including you, the Devil.
On hearing his name with a compassion which surprised my own mind, he turned around in disgust. Then, facing me again, he said, "Come on man, get real! How does so much consideration come into you, eh? Next you're gonna tell me that you donated half of your meagre salary to foundations because you're a bloody philanthropist?"
That's a rather fancy word, sir, and I would not use for my endeavours. But yes, I have been a part of many charities over the years. I smile as I say so, knowing it will irritate him, even if it is nothing but the truth which I say.
I smile broadly enough for the people accompanying me in the purely real world to notice the movement. They must be thinking I'm reminiscing the life I lived with them and with the world, or something like that, which people do around times like these. My wife strokes my hair, gently, lovingly.
The Devil has by now conjured up a booklet from nowhere and was going through it. Paperwork, I reasoned. He's got to do his job too, after all.
"I'm looking for your timeline, shitface", he says. "About your claim to charities. Let me see how big of a helpful pussy you truly were."
With him taking a while, I take some time for myself too, truly reminiscing about my life now... It was good here.
"A better one awaits you in the Afterlife", a second stranger said, arriving out of thin air at that very moment. "Good afternoon, sir", he said, "I'm an Angel".
The Devil had seen what he needed to, because the file had disappeared. "Look at you two lovebirds, already wanting to make out with your manners", he said.
"I beg your pardon for what's happening here", the Angel said with heavenly politeness, "The last Delivery had a few issues I needed to deal with. But now I'm here. This bloke Devil has the habit of meeting the best of humans during his free time... He likes feeling disgust, if one can imagine how it is."
My entire expression is one of motionlessness this entire time. I have been so involved in the observation of these exchanges that the physical pain which affected me for the longest time ceased to exist for a few moments. I concentrated on my lungs again, but to my surprise, the pain had numbed me to such an extent that I did not feel anything anymore. The End was near in this Place.
The Devil broke the monotone of the entire affair once more, saying, "I was kidding about the charity thing mate, using hyperbole and stuff... But in my files it says you donated three fourths of your monthly salary, not just half. How is every decision you ever made perfectly moral in this perfectly immoral world?"
His expression had changed into one of simple disbelief, a base emotion if I had ever seen one. "Good luck donating love to everyone in Heaven", he said, rolling his eyes. The prospect clearly did not thrill him as much as it thrilled me.
One does not donate love, after all. By giving it one multiplies its existence, I thought to myself.
"That is right", the Angel said, with him being able to read my thoughts too. "I'm afraid it's time, sir. We must go".
I nodded, even if ever so slightly no human would have caught the motion. For them, I was just a smiling old man who had just closed his eyes for the last time. As the Angel finished detaching my soul from my body, I turned back to see all of them. I felt sad, for my wife was already crying. However, a few seconds later she said, "Let us remember the man for all he has done. He was the greatest we ever knew."
"And he always will be," my sister said. All of them were left smiling by the end of their personal remembrances of me, and I felt fulfillment.
After the Angel had kept his hand on me as consolation for some time, I was ready to leave. Turning around, even as I felt youthful and immortal in my new form, better than ever before, I asked the Angel, "What's Heaven all about?"
"You'll find out in due time. Do not worry. First of all, however, I must say this - God has been eagerly waiting to meet you for some time now."
"Eff yes", I remarked, pleasantly surprised.
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If suffering was meant to contrast the joys of life, what about the unique brand of suffering that never yielded, the suffering which only got worse when it changed? Impossible to numb, tinging every moment with a hammering crimson, driving away sleep, what was the point of this suffering?
A test, I decided. I closed my eyes, tried not to yearn for the end to come. When I opened my eyes, a dozen pairs of eyes lit up at me. But I only had energy left to gasp, and spread warm fog on my mask. I turned my head from one side to the other, trying to lock eyes with each of them in turn. But in truth, it was primarily because of a throbbing pain behind the side that I was pressing on.
My life decisions had brought me here, surrounded by younger, sparkling eyes who had hope for the future. I hoped they saw lessons in my life, now that I'm a wilting shadow.
My eyes drooped, sleep was claiming me. I let my jaw hang loose. This sleep seemed deeper than most, more alluring, beckoning me.
The light narrowed to a slit, before it was lost entirely.
My ears first awakened to the rush of roasty air. And my eyes flew open with an alertness that I had lost for years.
And who else could have been before me aside from the man who was perhaps best described as **sharp**.
The strength of his gaze, the corners of his lips, the angles of his cheeks, I knew who he was.
"Oh, you don't know a thing at all," he snarled. "You disgusting piece of shit."
And then, his eyes still locked on me, he began to foam at the lips. Milky fluid overflowed and dribbled down his chin, down the front of his sparkling gold-and-red robe.
"I've been watching, you know? The angel within me saw right through you. You, who followed the teachings of the **church**", he spat the final word together with the last of his vomit. "You, who was deaf to your calling and your purpose, and gave that all up to be a meek lamb. You thought you could point a finger at hiss holy almighty ass to say that you were following hiss teachings? Too bad, you're stuck here with me now, forever."
My parched through struggled to form its first words, "What have I done wrong?"
"Weakness is not morality, you fool."
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[WP] You've always had an extremely high moral code and you've never wavered. Now on your death bed surrounded by friends and family you smile and close your eyes for the last time only to open them and see the devil looking at you with disgust. He turns away and says "seriously man, wtf?"
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"Excuse me?"
The malevolent figure - somehow, my brain (or if I was dead, my soul?) wouldn't let me see it's true form - leaned in closer and elaborated: "What. The. Fuck? I'm sure you understand the colloquialism; I've seen you hear it a few dozen times."
"I know what it means. But I wasn't sure if there was a devil, if I'd see him, or that he would just be... disappointed?"
"Oh, I'm absolutely disappointed. You were so high and mighty! You never enjoyed the evil you did."
"Wait... what?"
"Look, it's the end of your life - you can't tell anyone or fix it - so let me break the game down for you. You've heard the saying 'The road to hell is paved with good intentions.', right?"
"Yes..."
"Well, your intentions were great! The problem is, though you really moral, you weren't smart about it. You didn't think a lot of 'good' actions through. Being a character witness for that one troubled kid? Sure, he didn't go to jail for a crime that would have been unfairly punished... but, he also didn't get the help he needed to get back on track, because you were too busy. And he ended up even worse off."
"It takes a village..."
"But the village wasn't there, so you made it worse. I can point to dozens of these! The POINT, though, is that you always thought you were good, and tried to actively ignore the consequences from after you played hero. You never thought about if something was actually good in the long term; you tried to feel 'good' in the moment. I'm the consequence; I'm the price you pay for only considering if YOU thought it was good. Good and evil aren't absolutes - I'm an expert on this subject - and while you though you were good, you only took half-measures or didn't really think it through. You spread yourself too thin. You considered yourself right when others warned you that there may be downsides."
"I'm human and imperfect..."
"You're no longer human, you're just a human soul. Goodness isn't perfection - why do you think I'm down here? Good is doing the best with what you have. But you... you concerned yourself with FEELING right rather than actually helping. You had an amazing moral code that was impractical. I don't get people who made mistakes if they learn from them and become a better version of themselves. You didn't learn flexibility and true compassion - compassion for the unmistakably evil who are still people - and now, you're coming with me."
I felt heavy. Heavier that I ever had before. Somehow, the results of my actions flooded into me. I knew them all. The weight was the knowledge of how wrong I had been so many times. It was heartbreaking, and it caused me to sink, lower and lower.
"And you didn't even enjoy it..."
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If suffering was meant to contrast the joys of life, what about the unique brand of suffering that never yielded, the suffering which only got worse when it changed? Impossible to numb, tinging every moment with a hammering crimson, driving away sleep, what was the point of this suffering?
A test, I decided. I closed my eyes, tried not to yearn for the end to come. When I opened my eyes, a dozen pairs of eyes lit up at me. But I only had energy left to gasp, and spread warm fog on my mask. I turned my head from one side to the other, trying to lock eyes with each of them in turn. But in truth, it was primarily because of a throbbing pain behind the side that I was pressing on.
My life decisions had brought me here, surrounded by younger, sparkling eyes who had hope for the future. I hoped they saw lessons in my life, now that I'm a wilting shadow.
My eyes drooped, sleep was claiming me. I let my jaw hang loose. This sleep seemed deeper than most, more alluring, beckoning me.
The light narrowed to a slit, before it was lost entirely.
My ears first awakened to the rush of roasty air. And my eyes flew open with an alertness that I had lost for years.
And who else could have been before me aside from the man who was perhaps best described as **sharp**.
The strength of his gaze, the corners of his lips, the angles of his cheeks, I knew who he was.
"Oh, you don't know a thing at all," he snarled. "You disgusting piece of shit."
And then, his eyes still locked on me, he began to foam at the lips. Milky fluid overflowed and dribbled down his chin, down the front of his sparkling gold-and-red robe.
"I've been watching, you know? The angel within me saw right through you. You, who followed the teachings of the **church**", he spat the final word together with the last of his vomit. "You, who was deaf to your calling and your purpose, and gave that all up to be a meek lamb. You thought you could point a finger at hiss holy almighty ass to say that you were following hiss teachings? Too bad, you're stuck here with me now, forever."
My parched through struggled to form its first words, "What have I done wrong?"
"Weakness is not morality, you fool."
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[WP] You've always had an extremely high moral code and you've never wavered. Now on your death bed surrounded by friends and family you smile and close your eyes for the last time only to open them and see the devil looking at you with disgust. He turns away and says "seriously man, wtf?"
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“Uh, hi?” I mutter. “Who- What- I’m so confused right now. You’re not real.”
“Yeah. Not real. Then explain to me how I’m here to deal with you, Sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me Sweetheart. You shouldn’t be here.”
“Oh right! Little Miss. Perfect-Moral-Code-Never-Acting-Out gets to call the shots.”
I get up and walk over to the window, looking into the courtyard. This dude shouldn’t be here. After all, I’m not dead.
“Aren’t you, Sweetheart? Turn around,” he taunts.
I look back at the scene behind me. The monitor connected to me that’s meant to tell if I’m still alive is screaming. My family and friends are all melting down around my body, my mother even shaking me, screaming at me to wake up, I sink to the ground, putting my hands over my mouth. No. I’m too young. I still have a life to live. I’m too young to die. The devil shakes his head at me and snaps his fingers. Everything goes completely black, but as light returns, I find myself sitting opposite the devil in some little cafe.
“I apologize for the random transportation but I don’t want to see your annoying ass family and friends crying over you. You’re not worth it,” he says.
“What do you want from me?” I snap. “What do you want?”
“Give me your hand.”
I open my mouth to argue but he grabs my wrist before I can say anything, slicing my palm with a knife. I pull it back, completely stunned.
“What’s the matter with you?” I yell.
He takes my arm again and straightens it. The blood coming to the surface is white, maybe the slightest bit pink. The devil groans and leans back, annoyed as all Hell.
“I hate you,” he snaps. “You’re almost angel status. Your blood is almost white! God is going to live for this when you get up there.”
“I don’t understand. Why is my blood white? It’s been red the entire time I’ve been alive.”
“Your soul blood. The closer to white, the more pure you are. You’re going to Heaven. I hate you. You disgust me. No one should be that pure.”
“I disgust you? Disgust? How is that fair?”
“You being pure is disgusting. Enjoy your time in Heaven. You’re awful.”
He snaps his fingers and my connection to this part of the world starts fading, pure whiteness taking over my vision.
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If suffering was meant to contrast the joys of life, what about the unique brand of suffering that never yielded, the suffering which only got worse when it changed? Impossible to numb, tinging every moment with a hammering crimson, driving away sleep, what was the point of this suffering?
A test, I decided. I closed my eyes, tried not to yearn for the end to come. When I opened my eyes, a dozen pairs of eyes lit up at me. But I only had energy left to gasp, and spread warm fog on my mask. I turned my head from one side to the other, trying to lock eyes with each of them in turn. But in truth, it was primarily because of a throbbing pain behind the side that I was pressing on.
My life decisions had brought me here, surrounded by younger, sparkling eyes who had hope for the future. I hoped they saw lessons in my life, now that I'm a wilting shadow.
My eyes drooped, sleep was claiming me. I let my jaw hang loose. This sleep seemed deeper than most, more alluring, beckoning me.
The light narrowed to a slit, before it was lost entirely.
My ears first awakened to the rush of roasty air. And my eyes flew open with an alertness that I had lost for years.
And who else could have been before me aside from the man who was perhaps best described as **sharp**.
The strength of his gaze, the corners of his lips, the angles of his cheeks, I knew who he was.
"Oh, you don't know a thing at all," he snarled. "You disgusting piece of shit."
And then, his eyes still locked on me, he began to foam at the lips. Milky fluid overflowed and dribbled down his chin, down the front of his sparkling gold-and-red robe.
"I've been watching, you know? The angel within me saw right through you. You, who followed the teachings of the **church**", he spat the final word together with the last of his vomit. "You, who was deaf to your calling and your purpose, and gave that all up to be a meek lamb. You thought you could point a finger at hiss holy almighty ass to say that you were following hiss teachings? Too bad, you're stuck here with me now, forever."
My parched through struggled to form its first words, "What have I done wrong?"
"Weakness is not morality, you fool."
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[WP] You could always see labels above peoples’ heads telling you information about them. It was unusual, but you just accepted it as a neat thing to have around. Today, someone bumped into you with an unusually chilling tag: Protagonist.
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“I need 500 dollars from my account and I need it NOW boyo” yelled a man with a grizzled buzzcut running across the side of his head. His eyes radiated a certain redness only found heavy drug users while his mouth held a certain hostility that would not take “No” for an answer. Despite his incessant yelling for cash, I took my merry time drawing out the cash from his account. I knew that this guy was only looking for his next fix and wouldn’t jeopardize it.
Gripping his lifeline in my pudgy fingers, I handed him his cash while grazing my fingers over his open palm, knowing that he wouldn’t notice such a minute action.
*Class: <Druggie>*
What a shocker. Maybe the first hundred of druggies might’ve provoked a reaction from me but now my only response was a passing glance. After being able to see classes of people from age 13 onward, I thought myself as some sort of hero or prophet. Hell, I thought I was the second coming of Christ at one point, even going as far as to get the “Jesus” hairstyle. Quickly though, I realized I held no divine might or had a heavenly father speaking sweet nothings into my ears as the <*bully*\> classes beat the “Chuunibyou” phase out of me. Even worse was when my *<friends>* abandoned me, believing that I was too crazy to be with, and quickly changed from <*acquaintance>* to finally <*bullies>.* They toss their lots with my oppressors and I swore to ruin their lives.
15 years later and I’m nowhere near them. They all have high-paying jobs, beautiful spouses, and loving children. Here I am, minimum wage as a bank teller, dateless, and bald. I detested doing the “normie” route. I know I’m better than that. I am better than that for I had a question mark over my head! Everyone falls under a category, but no one I’ve met has ever had a question mark. Yet here I stand doing even worse than the normies. Even with this power, I never felt more powerless. It was my curse, my undoing! Everyday, that question mark above my head taunts me. Looking into the mirror or any reflective surface, it mocks me with it’s false promises. It isolates me from the rest of the normies in the world. I’d give anything in the world to be SOMEONE other than myself.
“Don’t spend it all at once!” I called to the regressing figure as he eyed everyone in the line with skepticism. Reaching under my register before anyone else came in, I slapped on a “Gone for Lunch” sign in front of my station and briskly trudged away from my station before anyone could voice their dissent.
“Hey buddy, mind heading back to the register for me?” A man with a gloved hand grasped my shoulder and pulled me aside.
“Can’t you read? I’m on my lunch break!” I ripped his hand off my shoulder and subtly slid my hand across the exposed skin above his glove.
Class: *<Armed Burglar>*
Masking my apprehension, I tried my hardest to make myself as small as possible in hopes that I hadn’t poked the hornets nest.
“Nah man, I’m sure that can wait. Just head right over to your little register over their and hand me whatever is left in there” Underneath his chilly voice, I heard the faintest of metallic clicks from his pocket. Fear took over and I followed his directions like a puppy to his master.
Yet even as I kept handing him bills after bills, I had an epiphany. What if this is my moment? What if I took out this robber with my own hands? I would be the hero I always dreamed of! Knowing that what I was planning was suicide, I decided that there would be no better alternative for someone as special as myself.
“That’s all the money in the register Sir.” I said as I backed with my hands wide open in a universal sign of compliance. Glaring at me suspiciously, he leaned his head over the register and I took my chance. I gripped my hands together and brought it upon his head, slamming it above the metal keys of the register. Right as I was about to strike a second blow, a speeding force quickly tackled my would-be stepping stone to glory to the ground.
“I got you covered chief! Don’t worry about this guy, I got him!” Looking over, I saw a blonde man punching my scheme to oblivion.
I couldn’t fucking believe it. My chance at glory, my chance at finally turning this hopeless situation into something worthwhile, all gone like ashes in the wind. Twitching, I walked up to my “savior” and touched his bare biceps.
Class: *<Protagonist>*
Excuse me WHAT THE FUCK! This blonde motherfucker comes out of the blue and steals MY thunder and steals the class that should be MINE!
“No need to thank me my guy, it’s all in a day’s work for someone like myself!” Laughing to himself, he got himself off the unconscious assailant and waltzed right of the the fucking door like this was a sunday stroll. Hell, he even got fucking dove-eyes from some of the onlookers.
This tilts me off the fucking cliff. I could deal with bullying. I could deal with a shitty hand. But I will not watch as my dreams be stolen by some muscle-brained himbo. I could only see red. Reflected to the corner of my eyes, I saw my question mark morph and fan-fair spark across my eyes.
Class: *<Antagonist>*
*“Rankup! Eyes of Providence has evolved! Your accumulated anger has manifested into an Evil Evolution in your powers. You are now able to force people to follow your will. Further evolutions require more Evil Points and can be acquired through performing Evil Acts. The Greater the Infamy, The Greater the Points”*
Ya know what? Fuck being a protagonist. I’m done with this bullshit. I have toiled FAR too long living in this imagination that I should be the hero. It’s time this world see what happens when you fucked with someone who’s special like myself. It’s time for my reign of glory. And I ain’t taking no for an answer.
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“Protagonist.” El whispered.
The girl looked down at El in confusion. “Excuse me?” She said politely enough.
El could only stare. No way. *No way.*
“I mean, you don't have to give me the eraser if you don't want to. I was just asking…” Said the girl again, cracking a half-smile.
El blinked rapidly. Right. The eraser. El looked around the bag and rummaged through it. *Since she was the protagonist, should I give her the big blue one? Or do I just give her the normal one?*
*If I gave her an eraser would that start a new plot point?!!*
*Oh my god am I in a television show or something?*
With this odd revelation, El looked at the world in a new light. Were they all in some sick Truman Show? And why did this girl get to be the protagonist? She didn't seem *that* great.
With a small huff, El decided to deviate from the plot just a bit. “I have an eraser, but I don't wanna give it to you.”
The protagonist girl gave him a blank look. “Uh, alright then.”
El grinned. Just because she was a protagonist, doesn't mean she's special.
“But isn't *not* giving her the ease kinda admitting she *is* special?” El's friend Eden said, when El was recounting this triumphant event.
“Shut up, Eden.”
But just as Eden was about to retort, there was a flash.
The street was suddenly engulfed in a crown of flames, gravel cracking beneath their feet and rubble flying in the air.
“What the--” El started, until a beast the size of a typhoon and as blue as the sea walked into the driveway next to them.
El couldn't clearly see the beast's features due to the flames surrounding them, and frankly didn't care enough. El grabbed Eden to crouch beneath a nearby turned-over car but fell before it could be reached.
“DUCK!” Someone yelled, which El obliged to.
El looked up to see why, only to see a jet of water drilling a hole into the building behind them.
El gasped as someone jumped on top of them like a protective shell. “Don't worry I'll save you!”
It was the Protagonist. She looked like she came from Hell and back, her face covered in grime and her clothes dirtier than the school bathroom.
“Am I in an actual action flick now?” El whispered.
“What? No! You're about to die, HIDE!” The Protagonist screamed, pushing them inside a barely standing storefront. “This seems unsafe--” Eden started
The Protagonist ignored Eden and struggled with the front door, which was refusing to stay open.
“If only there was something to keep the door open so I can reach for the handle on the other side!” She growled as the door bit into her arm. She pulled it back, only for the door to stubbornly slam shut again.
El gasped and dropped their backpack, dropping all its contents onto the ground. Rummaging around, El found it.
The big blue eraser. Written on its surface was a cheesy slogan: “for all your BIG mistakes!” And it was brand new. Perfect.
El pushed open the door and jostled the eraser into the small crack when it opened a tiny bit. El looked up. “Can you get the door now?”
The Protagonist nodded, her arm getting through the crack easily. Opening the front door, they all ran through it just as a car flew to where they had just stood. They all through the window in silence, all thankful to have escaped.
“What *is* that?” Eden whispered.
“It's from another dimension. Or more specifically, mine… I came here to run away, but I only brought trouble to this world. I suppose I shouldn't have so foolishly thought I would find it.” The Protagonist said sadly.
El stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“All I wanted, was to find them! The guardians of the code-- THE SOURCE CODE OF MY DIMENSION! Foretold to see the truth of all who exist- with just one look, they can tell you your purpose!” She wailed.
“Excuse me?” El only repeated.
“But, alas. I suppose I couldn't hope to find them. Not in this crappy dimension anyway. You guys can't even teleport to other dimensions, how trite.”
Eden and El looked to each other. If it weren't for them both knowing about the labels, they would have thought she was insane.
Instead, they're ladies they knew exactly what she was looking for.
El always had an odd label-- “Revealer.” It didn't take a genius to figure out the meaning. But it was so random that El ignored it.
But now. “Um, so, I might be the revealer you're looking for.” El said.
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[WP] People gain superpowers based on the environment that they are born in. Since most people had been born in hospitals, they are given a mild healing ability. However, people that weren't as lucky have other powers, and are the world's version of superheroes and villans
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I was born 5 months after the discovery. You probably heard one part of the formula. Hell, everybody did. Because the information wasn't dangerous. The formula was discovered in a top-secret, government-run base no one knew existed. Area 51 is probably what came to your mind. Please. How can a base be top-secret when everybody has heard of it? Area 51, it turns out is nothing but a distraction. did it exist? Of course! And everyone who worked there thought they were working on real alien crafts. Here they sent the known big mouths.
No, the real, important secrets did not get out.
The only reason my mother, Ann Chapman worked at The Base was that she was schizophrenic. Who would believe her? She was a custodian. The custodians would work the night shift when everyone had gone home and there was nothing to overhear. She was also hiding a pregnancy. She knew that the scientist who had raped her was much more valuable than a mentally ill custodian. So she kept it quiet.
But one night changed everything. Ann began the night as usual. She began making the rounds, collecting the trash from various rooms. When she heard two loud voices coming from the room she was approaching, she froze. Were they burglars? No, the security was too tight. Either way, she knew that making her presence known would not end well.
After considering her options, she decided to wait in the room next door. She soon realized the combination of thin walls and raised voices, allowed her to hear every word. Either way, she was too scared to move again.
"Dammit, John, you know what this means!" said one voice.
"Of course I do! I also know what could happen if it got out!" responded John.
"Look, I really think the public deserves this information, regardless of the consequences" the still-unnamed man retorted.
"Henry, if you leak this information," There was a long pause, "you know what will happen."
Ann heard a chair slide backwards, followed by pacing footsteps.
"Okay, let's go over it one more time. It has always been widely believed that the birth of children with augmented abilities is completely random." Henry said in an exasperated voice.
"Yes until now. We have been able to cause intentional manifestation with 100% success.", John was obviously humoring Henry.
"Two conditions are necessary for manifestation., the first being location of birth. Powers never manifest in traditional, hospital births. If born in the presence of powerful technology however, the child does seem to absorb qualities of said technology. When born near nuclear weapons, The child is capable of emitting, and detonating, radiation at will. If the birth occurs in an anti-gravity chamber, flight will manifest." Henry explained.
"The second condition is where things get messy. The location of childbirth is absolutely meaningless, without the death of the mother during, or within sixty seconds after, birth. Can't you see the effects of this information going public, Henry? People will kidnap, and eventually murder, laboring women for the chance to raise their own personal superhero! Dictators will be able to raise an unstoppable army!" John sounded panicky at the thought of these consequences.
Henry interrupted John before he could continue, "Okay, okay! It is obviously naive to think that we can release both conditions. But, I think I may have an acceptable compromise."
"What's that?" asked John skeptically.
"We release our findings on location, implying the rest is random. This will at least allow parents to choose a more useful augmentation for their child. This will give the mother's tragic death meaning!", Henry explained.
"That is... interesting." John sounded hopeful for the first time. "I think the folks upstairs may even be on board with it"
Ann seemed to wake from a trance. Could it be a hallucination? She had been taking her medicine regularly so it was unlikely. This could allow her child to have a chance!
Over the next few months, Ann meticulously researched adoptive parents. Any candidates that seemed to only want augmented children were eliminated. Eventually, she found a young couple who seemed to be selfless in every way. They had plenty of money, but did not seem to care about it. Great! Her baby wouldn't be used as a get rich quick scheme. They also were more than willing to pay for the best prenatal care. Just to make sure, Ann had a will written up, with them named as her child's guardians in the event of her death.
Ann was able to discover where all the best technology was in The Base. At home, she researched the powers that seemed to guarantee success. People always seemed to forget, Ann was a smart woman. Her mental illness did not affect intelligence. When she put her mind to it, she could be downright diabolical.
She eventually decided on flight. The anti-gravity chamber. This would be easy. Even if she went into labor during the day, she could visit an indoor skydiving location nearby.
Two days before her due date, she found something that made her rethink her choice. She had been looking through the trash while emptying it. This had become somewhat of a habit over the last few months. She continued to do so, almost subconsciously, even after she had found what she needed for her plan. Tonight, she found a report on a new project that was recently completed.
It was a teleportation chamber. She racked her brain. Was there a teleporting superhero? She didn't think so. A quick google search after work(smartphones were not allowed at The Base), confirmed her suspicion. This could bring her little superhero to a whole new level! The "First of their kind superheroes" were the real stars! Captain Marvel was great but Superman? Superman could appear in one tv ad and never have to worry about money again. Even when other flying heroes appeared, Superman was still the first.
Ann's new plan now called for her to have access to The Base, regardless of the time of day. After racking her brain, she decided on a "Day Plan". While she considered this her best chance for success, it was still very risky. Everything would be easier if she went into labor at night.
Her due day came and went. No superbaby. Ann prayed every night, while on the job, "Please, let it come now!".
Finally, a week late, she felt her first contraction. Unfortunately, It wasn't at night. Not even close. In fact, she had just gotten off work. Ann had heard of women being in labor for 24 hours before, but she couldn't risk it. Day plan it was.
Ann drove up to the security booth an hour later. Ann had intentionally left her previous weeks paycheck at The Base.
"Hello," she said, showing her biggest smile and handing over her clearance badge, "Look, I know this is an evening only badge, but this is an emergency. I left my paycheck here and my power bill is due today. They are threatening to turn it off!"
"Ok, just tell me where it is, and I'll have someone bring it out," said the guard.
"That's the problem. There are a few different places I could have left it. I need to retrace my steps." Ann said, trying her best to sound like a damsel in distress.
"Look lady, no day clearance, No day entrance. I'm not losing my job over you," he said firmly
Ann could see in his face that he was not going to change his mind. It was too late to try to make it to the indoor skydiving place. *Well*, she thought, *at least he will have good parent's*.
Just then, another security guard entered the back of the booth. "Take your break, Ron. I got this" he said.
"Sure, why not? You deal with 'er"
Ann felt a surge of hope as she repeated her sob story to the new guard.
He interrupted her before she could get to the end, "Sure go head. Maybe if they paid more around here, a couple days without a paycheck wouldn't be an emergency."
The bar raised, and she drove through before he could change his mind.
Ann did not face any more trouble on the way to the teleportation chamber. She did have to stop every few minutes to allow a contraction to pass. Eventually, she reached her destination.
Now came the hard part. She had researched the best way to deliver while alone. She prepared an area, close to the machine. There was almost no time between contractions now. She prepared herself to push.
At that moment a man and a woman came through the door. They froze, wearing expressions that clearly said, " Oh my God! Why is there a woman giving birth in my workspace!"
" How close is it?" asked the man with a familiar voice
"Very!" replied Ann, "I need to push!"
"Laura, go get help" the man instructed his companion.
Ann knew that voice. It was Henry.
Within 5 minutes, and with Henry's help, Ann had delivered a healthy baby girl.
Ann hit the timer button on her watch "I was expecting a boy", she said with a smile, "She's beautiful." Suddenly she had a sickening realization: she had forgotten her gun. How was she going to fulfill the last condition?
She looked up at Henry, and said desperately, "Kill me! Please!"
"What? Why? Your baby!"
" I was there the night of your argument with John. I know!" When Henry started to protest Ann said, " PLEASE! I have 15 seconds!"
Henry's military experience allowed him to snap her neck with little difficulty.
"She knew too much", was all he had to say when asked about her death. Nobody really cared enough to investigate the death of a schizophrenic custodian.
It has taken me 20 years to find this information about my mother. Without my skills, it would have been impossible. Her sacrifice allowed me to be born. But my biological father's sins put her in that terrible position. He is a hard man to touch, and without my skills, it might be impossible....
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"You're lucky you have me around" said my best friend Bonnie as she healed yet another bloody scar on my arm. I tensed as she pressed her palm against my wounds, and relaxed again as they vanished before my eyes.
"Yeah right, I'd just find another ginger sidekick who was born in a hospital" I teased. Bonnie rolled her eyes a bit and pressed a little too hard on a fresh bruise, making me yelp in pain.
The television suddenly blared to life, giving light to my apartment as footage of a destroyed city block filled the small box in the corner of the living room.
"Dammit!" I said, making Bonnie jump back in surprise as I smashed my fist against the coffee table. I put my leather jacket over my bare torso and started for the balcony.
"Wait!" Bonnie called, likely to pester me regarding my remaining cuts and bruises. Those would have to wait.
I touched down on the pavement in front of my nemesis. I had just finished locking him away, only for him to break out before he even reached the prison. So much for "New York's Finest". Couldn't even hold a prisoner for five minutes.
"Ah, head in the clouds again?" The man asked, grinning a yellow toothed grin at me. Vines crept up around the buildings, wrapping around anything and everything and throwing it high into the air.
"Go Home, Malcolm" I said simply. "You'll accomplish nothing by-" I soared into the air as a tree cracked the pavement underneath me, sending a large oak into the air where I was standing only seconds prior.
"Sometimes I ask myself why I couldn't have been born on a plan, like you, Drew" Malcolm sneered at me. "I had to have been born in a jungle, of all places!" He continued to rant at me, I took this as my chance and swooped down towards him for a clean punch in the jaw.
I walked through the balcony's doors as Bonnie rushed over, worried. She sat me down, tending to my every cut and injury. Sometimes, I take her for granted.
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[WP] Write a story that climaxes (thrillingly) with the phrase "That'll be two pounds and twenty pence, please.".
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Karen’s heart dropped as she entered the supermarket. She’d walked these aisles countless times, knew them like the back of her hand. And yet they seemed to mock her.
She clutched her folder of coupons under her arm and took a deep breath. This time, she was ready. A map had been drawn up, a bulletproof plan had been made. Karen would finally get into the elite Coupon Mums club. Nothing could break her now.
“Karen… fancy seeing you here,” a voice snarled from in front of her, and she didn’t even need to look up to know exactly who it was.
“Jessica Thomas. Look what the cat dragged in,” Karen laughed, sizing up her competition. Jessica had been her rival for months and managed to get into Coupon Mums last month by getting the lowest total. “Even now you’ve won, you still can’t get enough of me. Just ask me for my number if you like me so much.”
She turned red, huffing to pretend she wasn’t bothered. “Whatever, Karen. Hope you weren’t relying on toothpaste coupons to get in. I’ve swept the aisle.”
Karen looked at her trolley, and she wasn’t lying - it overflowed with tubes of toothpaste, poking out of the gaps at the side like a weapon. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, dashing over to the toothpaste aisle. And there it was - a gaping hole where Colgate should be.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” She shouted, ripping the coupon from her folder and tearing it into tiny shreds. “Fuck!”
For a moment, she felt like giving up. But she’d worked too hard to accept failure so soon. It was time to use her anger to win. It was time to unleash the beast.
“MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!” She hollered, barging her trolley towards the cereal aisle. It was every man for themselves in this place. She had no time to show mercy to those in her way.
Looks like Jessica never spotted the Weetabix coupons in the local paper… Karen cackled as she loaded up her trolley. Her son didn’t even like Weetabix, but it’s not about buying essentials. It’s about winning.
On to the next aisle. Biscuits. Dishwasher tablets. Washing powder. Bottled water. Deodorant. Crisps. Karen grabbed a shelf-stacker, getting him to push two of her trolleys. When she finally reached the till, it was with five trolleys in tow. She already felt like a champion.
“Thank you for your service.” She bowed her head and shook the shelf-stacker’s hand. He smiled politely, wandering off, confused.
The cashier smiled at her. “Did you find everything you were looking for today?”
“There’s no time for small talk. Scan.”
He accepted the challenge.
Piles of groceries formed before her as he scanned at full speed, and she quickly shoved them back into the trolleys, preparing her coupons. She stacked them into her hands, ordered perfectly for maximum savings.
She handed them over. And now, she was powerless. Her job was done. All she could do was wait.
“Four pounds and fifty pence, Karen!” Jessica shouted from another checkout. “Good luck beating that!”
She breathed, heartbeat timed to the bleep of each coupon scanning. The total became smaller and smaller. It felt as though the supermarket had fallen silent, all eyes on her. Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. Until it stopped.
She saw the total on the till screen, closing her eyes in elation. Her fist raised to the air, punching, and she let out a cry of victory. She pictured a crowd around her gathering, lifting her to the air, chanting her name. She pictured Jessica’s sour face, lips pursed in annoyance. Finally, she had won. She was a Coupon Mum.
“That’ll be two pounds and twenty pence, please.”
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On mobile so please excuse any mistakes. Also I have my A level exam the day after tomorrow, so if the story is haphazard, my apologies, as my mental functioning is not at its peak..
____________________________________________
The waters were deep and icy, laced with dreams and recollections.
Flowing in their current, I did not see the point of surfacing again to the world. By now I wished that I could stay here, away from the pain. But, alas, life rarely gives a man what he most desires.
And it never gives instantly.
________________________________________________________________________________________
A voice. I surfaced once again from the depths. Groggliy, I came to myself. I was bound in a chair, with what seemed to be a dull brown cloth. Realizing that my head was bent forward, over my chest, I lifted it up, causing a host of pains to make themselves known. My back ached, and my shoulders throbbed in a way that bespoke broken bones. My lips were parched, and my throat felt like sandpaper.
A low groan escaped my lips.
"Oh, so your finally awake?" It was the same voice. Amusment now danced within its words, yet there was also a razors edge of sarcasm. Even if I had been in any mood to reply, I could not have formed any coheasive words. Another groan was all the voice got in reply.
"I asked if you were awake!" The words laced though me like hot daggers, and i recoiled from the venom in them. A hand, surprisingly soft, and delicatly made, jerked my head upwards, to behold a vision of terrible beauty. A woman, her features sharp and pronounced, her golden tresses flowing to her shoulders, set off the snapping blue eyes that sought to peirce me. Her anger only heighted her beauty, spots of pink forming on her cheeks.
Something in my face must have given me away, for suddenly her eyes widened, and she gave a little cats smile, flashing white, even teeth. Relinqiushing her hold on me, she walked over to a table, where bottles of brandy stood like senturies. Selecting one, she poured a glass, and held it to my lips. The brandy seared my throat, filling me with its warmth. A hint of apricots lingered on my tounge. "Better now?" she asked with a hint of playfullness.
"Much. Quite better. I would be even better if I could just stand up." I gave my most disarming smile.
She smiled at me. "I don't think so.."
My heart sank. Even so, had been worth a try.
"Why am I here? The last I remember, I was finishing a report on...." My words trailed away, as I realized what had happened to me. A journalist, with a story uncovering the corruption of the government so completely, it would result in a riot. I knew myself for nine kinds of a fool. Realizing, that these might be the final moments of my life, I vainly tried to make sense of the past. I only managed one word.
"How?"
She smiled at me. "You were always fond of your coffee."
There it was. Everything dropped into place. I sighed. Better make the most of this...
A smile twitched my lips.
" That sounds awfully like a scene from fifty shades of Earl gray..."
I had the satisfaction of seeing her smile falter. Then dread roiled against me at her even bigger smile.
"Yes. Yes it does.."
I was suddenly aware of the knife as a large mettalic gleam in the corner of my eye. I tried to break away but the restraints held. The knife was now pushing into me with it's blunt end, slowly, inexorably travelling up to my neck. I arched myself away from her, but my will held only until she set her finger to my neck, walking them to my lips and parting them. All the while looking at me through those blue eyes, picking away layers of my self control.
"Hush. I will end it quickly. Only for you" The words were breathed into my ear. A shiver ran over me. The knife was now near enough for me to see it, a large kitchen utensil. She placed it across my throat, and with a final smile, sliced it across, sending me into sweet, blissful oblivion.
.
.
.
"That will be two pounds, twenty pence, please."
.
The cover of the holobed slid off with a whoosh of air, leaving me in the chill of the air conditioning. The drone hovered nearby, waiting for it's payment. I climbed out slowly, experiencing the nausea that came with holo-dreaming. It would pass. The sensation, however would not. It seemed like with every new experience release, they edged closer to *that* territory. It was ungainly to realize how many people craved that sort of thing. I used it mostly to relax after work. Today, however, I sensed I would not be getting much sleep.
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[WP] Write a story that climaxes (thrillingly) with the phrase "That'll be two pounds and twenty pence, please.".
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Karen’s heart dropped as she entered the supermarket. She’d walked these aisles countless times, knew them like the back of her hand. And yet they seemed to mock her.
She clutched her folder of coupons under her arm and took a deep breath. This time, she was ready. A map had been drawn up, a bulletproof plan had been made. Karen would finally get into the elite Coupon Mums club. Nothing could break her now.
“Karen… fancy seeing you here,” a voice snarled from in front of her, and she didn’t even need to look up to know exactly who it was.
“Jessica Thomas. Look what the cat dragged in,” Karen laughed, sizing up her competition. Jessica had been her rival for months and managed to get into Coupon Mums last month by getting the lowest total. “Even now you’ve won, you still can’t get enough of me. Just ask me for my number if you like me so much.”
She turned red, huffing to pretend she wasn’t bothered. “Whatever, Karen. Hope you weren’t relying on toothpaste coupons to get in. I’ve swept the aisle.”
Karen looked at her trolley, and she wasn’t lying - it overflowed with tubes of toothpaste, poking out of the gaps at the side like a weapon. “You wouldn’t,” she whispered, dashing over to the toothpaste aisle. And there it was - a gaping hole where Colgate should be.
“No, no, no, no, no, no!” She shouted, ripping the coupon from her folder and tearing it into tiny shreds. “Fuck!”
For a moment, she felt like giving up. But she’d worked too hard to accept failure so soon. It was time to use her anger to win. It was time to unleash the beast.
“MOVE, MOVE, MOVE!” She hollered, barging her trolley towards the cereal aisle. It was every man for themselves in this place. She had no time to show mercy to those in her way.
Looks like Jessica never spotted the Weetabix coupons in the local paper… Karen cackled as she loaded up her trolley. Her son didn’t even like Weetabix, but it’s not about buying essentials. It’s about winning.
On to the next aisle. Biscuits. Dishwasher tablets. Washing powder. Bottled water. Deodorant. Crisps. Karen grabbed a shelf-stacker, getting him to push two of her trolleys. When she finally reached the till, it was with five trolleys in tow. She already felt like a champion.
“Thank you for your service.” She bowed her head and shook the shelf-stacker’s hand. He smiled politely, wandering off, confused.
The cashier smiled at her. “Did you find everything you were looking for today?”
“There’s no time for small talk. Scan.”
He accepted the challenge.
Piles of groceries formed before her as he scanned at full speed, and she quickly shoved them back into the trolleys, preparing her coupons. She stacked them into her hands, ordered perfectly for maximum savings.
She handed them over. And now, she was powerless. Her job was done. All she could do was wait.
“Four pounds and fifty pence, Karen!” Jessica shouted from another checkout. “Good luck beating that!”
She breathed, heartbeat timed to the bleep of each coupon scanning. The total became smaller and smaller. It felt as though the supermarket had fallen silent, all eyes on her. Bleep. Bleep. Bleep. Until it stopped.
She saw the total on the till screen, closing her eyes in elation. Her fist raised to the air, punching, and she let out a cry of victory. She pictured a crowd around her gathering, lifting her to the air, chanting her name. She pictured Jessica’s sour face, lips pursed in annoyance. Finally, she had won. She was a Coupon Mum.
“That’ll be two pounds and twenty pence, please.”
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I always thought that I would be the kind of person to help someone in need. The fantasy landscape that unfurls in my mind’s eye at night has shown me countless situations, scenes flowing seamlessly from one to the other.
Strangers needing someone to look out for them, to protect them, that one person who would defend them for no other reason than it being the right thing to do.
I am that person, or more accurately, I used to think I was that person.
Reality came once more with a kick of steel-toed boots and a growled threat: “Move one inch and the next will be in your face.”
There was no need to ask for an explanation, the voice had been quite clear relaying the instructions. So I stayed put.
I would like to say that I saw what happened to you, that I was there alongside you, with eyes spread wide in terror and a silent scream on my lips, so I could witness your final hours and at the very least could claim that you weren’t alone.
I would like to say it, but being a coward is more than enough for me. I do not need to be called a liar as well.
So when I heard your protests, your pleas, your screams, and eventually your slowly dulling whimper, I closed my eyes.
I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the sickening ascending rythm of objects parting flesh, of flesh meeting flesh, punctuated by what little air your lungs still managed to push past your vocal chords.
I do not know how long I listened to the desecration of your life before the sounds started sputtering out. Time hasn’t been a concept for god knows how long, except in my dreams. There is always a clock in my dreams, and it tells me how much time I have left before it’s too late to save someone, and I am always on time.
But there is no clock here. There is no breaking of day, no falling of night. Only dreams and a voice that terrifies me to such an extent that I refuse to put a face to it.
I am sorry that I didn’t do anything to save you. I am so terribly sorry that the only difference I can make is in my dreams.
It keeps revolving in my mind that the last spoken sentence to you was one you didn’t recognise as a warning, that it failed to inform you of the capabilities of the one hiding behind that well-known customer service timbre.
I remember because I am still here. It has been so long that I gave up on wishing for reasons.
All I hear before I go to sleep is that voice, that last sentence I heard it utter before its sound took on that threatening quality, before it managed to control me with single syllable words.
“That’ll be two pounds and twenty pence please.”
Edit: spelling
|
|
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
|
Coming out of my cage, the attic, where I'd locked myself away for so long. Well, it seemed so long. Was only an hour and a half, but I spent 3 months with the love of my life. I only had 1 candy left. The ticket back. The question lingered. Was it like the stories, where the last one is permanent? Or was it just like the others. It had to be, right? Or I could have come across it at any time? Not like I'd know. I failed physics so many times. "I'm doing fine" I told myself. I had to. It was just so painful to think about. It started with a kiss. Only a kiss.
Now I'm falling asleep, because temporal dilation is a fucking nightmare. Like jetlag, but far worse. I had to find a way to make these candies, to recreate the effects. I called my buddy, a chemist, and he agreed to run an analysis. He came back to me, one day. Had a ring on his finger. "What's with the ring, dude?" I asked, somehow knowing the answer. "I'm sorry, I... I made a synthetic, but I tested it on me, and... she was so perfect dude. So pretty." he said, as he downed a tube of a solution, and collapsed.
I picked up the tube. On it, written in masking tape, was a formula:
C20H25N3O
|
Bob looked at the candy in his hand, It seemed old buuuuut he really really liked candy, and the only reason that all his teeth has not fallen out yet was because of his rigorous teeth cleaning sessions he had whenever he ate candy. He shrugged, not like his grandma was going to miss them, though he always wondered why his grandma always chugged it down like a thirsty man in a desert seeing water after a long time.
&#x200B;
**nom**
&#x200B;
Opening his eyes he could see an open field full of Bison-like animals and walked towards them non-threateningly, the Bison moved away until only 1 little calf was on the field.
"Hello little Bison, Why are you alone?"
The little bison licked Bob's face and went back to staring at the grass
"Why are you not eating?"
Bob checked the stomach and felt that it was abnormal to him, of course it would be abnormal to him since he's in another place but Bob is not city-boy but was a full fledged dairy farmer and he knew a constipated Bovine when he felt it.
"All I have to do it-" He popped a chew into the little bovines mouth, and half an hour later a large spray of poo flew out of the little bovines booty.
&#x200B;
The little Bovine cheerfully glomped around and licked Bob's face
&#x200B;
2 more days pass peacefully
\----
Day 4
Bob was surprised when he was in the shed again, but when he looked outside it was about the same time as he left to that other-worldy place. He knew because the clock in the shed has shown that only 3 minutes passed so he popped another candy into his mouth.
&#x200B;
When he came back the little Bovine came running to him and licked his face, you could say the little bovine was the love of his life since if she vanished he'd be lonely.
&#x200B;
\---
Day 8
Another 3 days had passed with bob staying in the pasture, which surprisingly held an abundant amount of edible fruit, he noticed something about some of the fruits and snatched the seeds and put them in a cloth. He figured that back home had the same growth zone as the place he was currently in since they both had similar weather and temperature for the week he's been here.
\---
This continued on for a long time until bob only had 1 candy left, he looked at the bovine and was a bit sad. He was especially nice to her the past few days as she had grown into a healthy adult female bovine and had already been accepted back into the herd.
\---
Bob sighed as he came back into the shed, he'd already finished his last candy before forgetting about it. Then he read the lable (Recipe: White sugar, Confectionery powder, Vanilla extract, and seeds of that fruit that tastes like every sweet fruit)
Bob was wide-eyed, He had gathered a ton of those seeds when he was over and by his calculations there was at least 100 kilograms in the field where he had gone every time he ate a candy.
And as bob ate his home-made candy, he wondered how his grandma got the seed in the first place.
|
|
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
|
**Mint Juleps.**
Your flashlight catches glimpses of dust floating aimlessly in the airspace of the stairwell. The voices ofyour friends grow more distant as you contemplate climbing further. You had found a door towards the back of the master bedroom, one would assume it was just a closet, but it had led you here. Kat, Tasha, and Adin had convinced you to bring them along on this escapade. Your parents had left taking care of grandmas things up to you, and they thought it would be fun to make a game out of it. After all you weren't very close when she was alive. You weren't even very close when she remembered you. Their laughter bounces off the walls as they rummage through boxes of knickknacks and telemarketed items. But it fades as you creep up the steps. The smell of old books, aged fabric, and dampness wrap around you as you open the door at the top of the stairs.
&#x200B;
"Oh, it's just an attic."
&#x200B;
You speak out loud, almost startling yourself with how contrasting your voice feels in the quiet of the room. Glancing around its hard to see with just your torch, but you notice a chord hanging in the center of the room. When you pull it the room is touched with a soft glow, but a trunk seems illuminated among the various boxed and draped chairs. It creaks when you open it, a small shriek. There are various quilts and blankets, all seemingly handmade. But among fabric folds lies a glistening glass box with bubble flowers in the lid. You pull out the box and admire the work, you'd recently been intrigued by glass work. Funny, maybe your grandma made this? You'll ask dad later.
&#x200B;
You notice an attractive pink showing through the glass, adding a light blush to the roses. Opening the box the blush turns to rouge as rows of small candies identify themselves. They smell like strawberries and mint, and are shaped in small rounds, imperfect as if each had been hand crafted. You pick one up with your forefinger and thumb, and move it towards the light. Looking through there seems to be specks inside. You squint to get a closer look, bringing it almost to your eye. There's something there. You swear there's something more there. You just can't quite see it.
&#x200B;
"Whatchya looking at?"
&#x200B;
You startle, standing in the doorway is Kat, glancing curiously at you.
&#x200B;
"Oh, nothing just looking around, I found this cool box."
&#x200B;
You respond. Quickly stashing the candy into your pocket. You don't know why but you feel the need to hide it. She walks over and looks at the box holding the candies. Admiring it as you had a minute ago. She opens the box, mesmerized by the candy. Your heart rate picks up. You don't want her looking at them.
&#x200B;
"Where's everyone else?" You ask.
&#x200B;
Pulling her out of her trance, you take the box and place it back in the trunk with the blankets. Whatever it is, the others don't need to see it.
&#x200B;
"They're just downstairs, we found some cool old VHS tapes, we were hoping you knew where a player was."
&#x200B;
The two of you walk downstairs and you all spend the rest of the night watching home videos of your mom when she was a child. You swear you saw the box in that video.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
By 3 am you still can't sleep. Something about the attic, that box, those candies has gotten a hold of you. You feel like the beginning of a movie. The music is starting and the horns are swelling, you feel a call to something bigger than you. To your adventure. You need to investigate, you need to see them one more time. You feel deep in your gut that you need to eat one. The shoes across the room are suddenly on your feet, and your jacket swung around your arms. You were dressed and out the door. Riding your moped at night sketched you out, but this seemed important enough. The wind sobers you up a little.
Why was it so important? Why did you want to know the candies were okay? Was is a good idea to try one? When you pull up to your grandmothers house Kats car is already in the driveway.
&#x200B;
Your stomach drops.
&#x200B;
In a rush you slam your peg down, throw off your helmet, and run inside. Breath heavy, the sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, bounding the steps you reach the top of the staircase. The master bedroom has Kat's bag in it.
&#x200B;
"Kat! Kat, why are you here!?" You shout up the stairs as you enter the door frame. Your voice is filled with anger. Or was it dread?
&#x200B;
When you walk into the attic the light isn't on, but the moon sits in a small window across the room, barely illuminating a figure you believe to be Kat. She looks at you and the light spills on her face, streams of tears glisten. You don't know how but she looks as if she's aged. She seems sunken. The box is nearbye, strewn on the floor and completely empty. Your stomach bubbles with a stew of emotions. They're interconnected and confusing, almost impossible to identify. Mainly you feel stolen from. You snap back to reality when you hear a small sob come from Kat.
&#x200B;
Everything washes away as you see her there, so broken.
You walk over and sit with her, and gather her in your arms. She is your best friend; your love for her overshadows any other thoughts.
&#x200B;
"What happened?" you ask.
&#x200B;
"They're's gone, I can't see them anymore. They're just gone." Kat lets out in a whisper.
&#x200B;
"Who's gone Kat?" you coo.
&#x200B;
"River, they're out there, and I'm here, and there are no more candies." she lets out in a sob.
&#x200B;
"Who are they? How do you know them?"
&#x200B;
"I've loved them for three months over there. The candies took me there. And I knew they would run out but I got so caught up, so excited. I hadn't realized our time was up until there wasn't anymore. And I miss them so much."
&#x200B;
You're perplexed by her story, but you feel your heart reach out. You remember the candy in your pocket. For a second you want to keep it to yourself, but you're revolted at the thought.
&#x200B;
"Here." Her head lulls to you as you prod her to open her eyes.
&#x200B;
You hold out the last candy with an open palm, her eyes brighten, she lifts up like a balloon man being filled. Tentatively she reaches out for the candy. Her mouth opening and closing, contemplating the possibilities.
&#x200B;
The pain.
&#x200B;
"Do you want me here for after?" you ask. You don't know why but her approval seems important. It feels like you need her to want you there.
&#x200B;
"No, I think I'll want to be alone." Kat lets out.
&#x200B;
She looks at you, so grateful. You can't say no to the look on her face. You feel as if leaving is the only thing to do. The best thing to do by her. You get up to leave, turning back at the door frame, watching her settle into a laying position on the floor, holding the candy up to the moon, staring at something inside. Just before placing it into her mouth.
&#x200B;
Walking down the stairs you hear her start to call out to River, but halfway through her voice falls away, as if taken.
&#x200B;
You wonder if you are truly doing the right thing.
&#x200B;
The ride home is brisk.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The next day your mom knocks on your door, waking you up.
&#x200B;
Apparently it's 1:30 pm, you've slept in. It was one of the best sleeps you've had in a while.
&#x200B;
Your mom has a funny face on, almost like the one she wore when you were nine and your 'dog had gone to a farm far away'. Sitting up in bed a lump gathers in your throat, you try to swallow it down but it sinks into your stomach. She sits on the edge of your bed next to you, placing a hand over yours.
&#x200B;
"Honey, something really bad happened. I don't want you to blame yourself, you couldn't have known she was depressed. None of us knew... Kat is gone. She died very early this morning."
|
Bob looked at the candy in his hand, It seemed old buuuuut he really really liked candy, and the only reason that all his teeth has not fallen out yet was because of his rigorous teeth cleaning sessions he had whenever he ate candy. He shrugged, not like his grandma was going to miss them, though he always wondered why his grandma always chugged it down like a thirsty man in a desert seeing water after a long time.
&#x200B;
**nom**
&#x200B;
Opening his eyes he could see an open field full of Bison-like animals and walked towards them non-threateningly, the Bison moved away until only 1 little calf was on the field.
"Hello little Bison, Why are you alone?"
The little bison licked Bob's face and went back to staring at the grass
"Why are you not eating?"
Bob checked the stomach and felt that it was abnormal to him, of course it would be abnormal to him since he's in another place but Bob is not city-boy but was a full fledged dairy farmer and he knew a constipated Bovine when he felt it.
"All I have to do it-" He popped a chew into the little bovines mouth, and half an hour later a large spray of poo flew out of the little bovines booty.
&#x200B;
The little Bovine cheerfully glomped around and licked Bob's face
&#x200B;
2 more days pass peacefully
\----
Day 4
Bob was surprised when he was in the shed again, but when he looked outside it was about the same time as he left to that other-worldy place. He knew because the clock in the shed has shown that only 3 minutes passed so he popped another candy into his mouth.
&#x200B;
When he came back the little Bovine came running to him and licked his face, you could say the little bovine was the love of his life since if she vanished he'd be lonely.
&#x200B;
\---
Day 8
Another 3 days had passed with bob staying in the pasture, which surprisingly held an abundant amount of edible fruit, he noticed something about some of the fruits and snatched the seeds and put them in a cloth. He figured that back home had the same growth zone as the place he was currently in since they both had similar weather and temperature for the week he's been here.
\---
This continued on for a long time until bob only had 1 candy left, he looked at the bovine and was a bit sad. He was especially nice to her the past few days as she had grown into a healthy adult female bovine and had already been accepted back into the herd.
\---
Bob sighed as he came back into the shed, he'd already finished his last candy before forgetting about it. Then he read the lable (Recipe: White sugar, Confectionery powder, Vanilla extract, and seeds of that fruit that tastes like every sweet fruit)
Bob was wide-eyed, He had gathered a ton of those seeds when he was over and by his calculations there was at least 100 kilograms in the field where he had gone every time he ate a candy.
And as bob ate his home-made candy, he wondered how his grandma got the seed in the first place.
|
|
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
|
(Cursing ahoy, ye be warned)
If you’d have told me yesterday that I’d consider a lone piece of Chocolate an affront to god and man, I’d have told you where you could shove said chocolate.
And yet, there it is. It’s practically taunting me, laughing spitefully from its little corner of the small box. Smug little shit.
The funeral was 5 days ago. You’d think I’d be relieved somewhat - after all, I was 16 when Mom got sick, and it’d been 8 long years of hard work and borderline poverty. Surely I’d seen my duty through, and my freedom from my burden warranted celebration?
...Yeah, you’d think so. But I’d learned in that time just how fair weather most relationships were. My sister’s too busy with her husband on the East Coast to call, most of my friends drifted away after high school, and the one that’s left only calls to hang out when he’s weepy drunk or needs money.
Truth is, Mom’s all I had. When she died, I felt...hollow, without purpose. Didn’t help that I’ve never been what you call socially capable. Dating apps for young curmudgeons aren’t exactly a booming market.
So when the Will was read, and I found that that my family’s ancestral home had been left to me, I figured it was a fair enough deal. It’s a roof, at least.
The house’s value did little to appreciate further when I found the old box of chocolates in the attic. Kevin Jones, home-and-chocolate-owner. Truly a model citizen and paragon of responsible adulthood. And my third grade teacher said I’d never amount to anything.
Little had I known, at the time, how important those chocolates would become that I’d be one day staring at the last one with the gravitas of staring at the last swallow of water in the goddamn Sahara.
No, no they AREN’T that good, for your information. They’re rotten and taste like shit. But still, I’d eat a thousand just to see her for 15 minutes more. Since I found out what those things do, I haven’t left the house in 5 days. I’m fairly certain the neighborhood kids have started circulating haunted house stories.
As I hold the last chocolate in my hands, and ponder over what I’m about to do, what I’ve been preparing since yesterday for, I’m reminded of a story. When some guy went to the electric chair a while ago, his last words before they flipped the switch were *“Let’s rock.”* I wonder if a moment of existential, romantic doom warrants those words of defiance as much as ACTUAL doom.
...Nah. I guess not.
I pop the chocolate into my mouth, and do my best to ignore the sour filling as the darkness envelops me.
————————
My vision clears and I find myself sitting against a wall, next to one of the large, cylindrical monstrosities that pass for dumpsters in this city. Jesus. 30 chocolates and not one of ‘em had had the decency to deposit me into a building.
In this case though, it’s proven to my benefit. The area I’ve been dumped in is in fact the local Park, just outside the city proper, and an excellent place to acquire something special for this meeting, something I do with great haste before proceeding into the brightly lit city streets.
I can’t help thinking about the first time I’d seen it, sprawling like it does. The bizarre, hovering vehicles. The large neon signs, with small golden specks of light dancing inside the tubes like glitter, beckoning passers-by inside for a drink, gambling, entertainment, and “Entertainment”.
not that I’d been inside many. I don’t do well with crowds.
I carefully eye the passing signs, finally settling on a bright sign, shaped in the image of a strange glass, closely approximate to an hourglass with an opened top, sitting next to a bottle of indescript alchohol with a red lipstick kiss on the front.
...Classy, I guess?
I make my way inside, passing several booths before I finally set eyes on her. She sits alone at the bar, tossing her wild, swept-back mane of bright electric blue hair from her left shoulder, and tapping one heel-clad shoe impatiently as she struggles to keep her evening gown in place.
*Guess I called it right dressing up this time,* I think, straightening my waistcoat as I sit. It’s the same outfit I wore to the funeral, but I’ll just keep that one to myself.
“There you are!” She huffs, folding her arms and making a pouty face as she adjusts the white cloth choker around her neck. “You’re late, you know.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason.” I say, bringing out the small, wrapped bundle I’ve brought from the park. I unfurl it and hand her the four white flowers I picked from the park. “For you.”
Her emerald eyes soften instantly, brimming with poorly disguised joy. “Aww...Angel Whiskers. My favorite...”
She gives me a sweet little smile. The same one that penetrated my defenses the day we first met.
“You remembered...but you’ve never even seen them before. How did you know?”
I suddenly feel as if a sun lamp is focused on my cheeks.
“C’mon, Feleene. You told me the day we met, remember? You kept going on and on about the little whiskers that grow from the center and how you like how they tickle your nose.”
She giggles a bit, a little snort escaping before she tries to cover it up. I don’t know why she does that, really - I think it’s cute.
“Right, the day my hove broke down and you carried my stuff to the club for me. I’m surprised you were paying attention. You were so mad and you just kept cursing, even when I showed you around afterwards...” She giggles a bit more. “You’ve come a long way from being such a grouch, you know.”
“What can I say? Guess you bring out the best in me.”
She smiles her disarming smile. “Or maybe we bring out the best in each other.”
The heat lamps return. I opt to change the subject before I die of over-flushed face. “So...nice place.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” She motions to the stage. “The manager’s really nice. He was so impressed he lets me sing every Friday. It’s not much, but he says he gets talent agents through once in a while, and I’ve even got fans already - a couple asked for my autograph last night. It’s so exciting!”
She places a hand over mine.
“...And I never would’ve had the courage to ask if you hadn’t pushed me to.”
*Steady breaths, Kev.* “Y-Yeah...I mean, I’m sure you would’ve in time. You’re a great singer. You just need to be confident. ...So, does that mean you don’t have to dance at the club anymore?”
She sighs. “Don’t I wish. But I’m living my dreams now, so I have something to look forward to every week...aside from you, that is.”
Her own cheeks take on a rosy tinge as she peers sidewise at me. “By the way...the other girls still say they want me to introduce you sometime.”
I clear my throat uncomfortably. “Yeah...about that.”
She drops her gaze sadly, idly swirling her finger in her drink. “I know...you’re not going to be able to come back after the next two days, huh?”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, she reaches out and damn near pulls me off my stool, burying her face in my chest as she wraps her arms around me.
Her voice come out muffled, and slightly on the verge of tears. “I’m...really going to miss this. I love you...y-you know that, right?”
I do the best I can to reciprocate the hug with my own shaky hands, resting my chin in her fluffy hair. “Yeah. I love you too.”
She raises her face from my chest, pausing to wipe away a tear. “H-hey, crazy idea. I know I pulled some strings to get you into the hotel, but maybe instead...you can stay with me tonight? I just-I want to make as many memories as we can, while we can, y’know?”
Oh, crap. This is NOT part of the plan.
“Uh...o-okay.”
|
Bob looked at the candy in his hand, It seemed old buuuuut he really really liked candy, and the only reason that all his teeth has not fallen out yet was because of his rigorous teeth cleaning sessions he had whenever he ate candy. He shrugged, not like his grandma was going to miss them, though he always wondered why his grandma always chugged it down like a thirsty man in a desert seeing water after a long time.
&#x200B;
**nom**
&#x200B;
Opening his eyes he could see an open field full of Bison-like animals and walked towards them non-threateningly, the Bison moved away until only 1 little calf was on the field.
"Hello little Bison, Why are you alone?"
The little bison licked Bob's face and went back to staring at the grass
"Why are you not eating?"
Bob checked the stomach and felt that it was abnormal to him, of course it would be abnormal to him since he's in another place but Bob is not city-boy but was a full fledged dairy farmer and he knew a constipated Bovine when he felt it.
"All I have to do it-" He popped a chew into the little bovines mouth, and half an hour later a large spray of poo flew out of the little bovines booty.
&#x200B;
The little Bovine cheerfully glomped around and licked Bob's face
&#x200B;
2 more days pass peacefully
\----
Day 4
Bob was surprised when he was in the shed again, but when he looked outside it was about the same time as he left to that other-worldy place. He knew because the clock in the shed has shown that only 3 minutes passed so he popped another candy into his mouth.
&#x200B;
When he came back the little Bovine came running to him and licked his face, you could say the little bovine was the love of his life since if she vanished he'd be lonely.
&#x200B;
\---
Day 8
Another 3 days had passed with bob staying in the pasture, which surprisingly held an abundant amount of edible fruit, he noticed something about some of the fruits and snatched the seeds and put them in a cloth. He figured that back home had the same growth zone as the place he was currently in since they both had similar weather and temperature for the week he's been here.
\---
This continued on for a long time until bob only had 1 candy left, he looked at the bovine and was a bit sad. He was especially nice to her the past few days as she had grown into a healthy adult female bovine and had already been accepted back into the herd.
\---
Bob sighed as he came back into the shed, he'd already finished his last candy before forgetting about it. Then he read the lable (Recipe: White sugar, Confectionery powder, Vanilla extract, and seeds of that fruit that tastes like every sweet fruit)
Bob was wide-eyed, He had gathered a ton of those seeds when he was over and by his calculations there was at least 100 kilograms in the field where he had gone every time he ate a candy.
And as bob ate his home-made candy, he wondered how his grandma got the seed in the first place.
|
|
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
|
"Five pieces left," Stella sighed at the handful of candy. Five pieces of black licorice hard candy rested in her palms. Each one wrapped in translucent purple cellophane. The young woman sat cross-legged on her bed at nine in the morning. Sunlight filled one side of the room while she sat in shadow. She took vacation time and cleared her schedule for the next week. After wasting too many pieces she realized the time difference. She only needed two and a half hours to go through the last pieces, but she expected to be heartbroken at the end.
"This is my special candy," Stella's grandma explained when the girl was only seven. "You can try a piece, but you won't like it. It's magical...," her grandma giggled and tapped Stella's nose. "...just like you. But it's like two magnets that push each other away." Alice was determined to prove her grandmother wrong and shoved the black candy into her mouth. Stella made a sour face, then the shiny, black, wet piece of candy was stuck to the carpet within two seconds. "Give your magic some time to mature," her grandmother said with a wink. "You'll like it when you're older." Her grandma never answered questions about the magical nature of the confection. She only ever saw the older woman eat it in the evening when she disappeared into her room for the night.
Stella found the hidden stockpile of sweets in her grandmother's attic and pocketed them all. She still didn't like licorice, but she was older now. She knew how to power through unpleasantness. By 22 she stopped believing in magic; then, that first sharp tartness prodded her tongue. She almost spit it out, but Stella clamped her teeth shut and imprisoned the candy. She was determined to keep it in her mouth no matter how much she wanted to be somewhere else at that moment. She imagined her grandmother laughing at her; then something black appeared. The first time she was in her living room. A tall, black hole floated in front of her couch. She believed in magic again and jumped through the hole.
On the other side, she found herself on a hill over-looking small village. She did not feel an ounce of fear. Instead, she dashed down to the town eager to explore. It wasn't until the third day that she began to wonder how to get home. She knew her grandmother always got home just fine, but she did not know how. Then, she was home. Stella did not waste any time and ate another piece of candy. She ate four pieces in a row before she started wondering about the world she was leaving behind. That's when she found out about the time difference. On her fifth trip, she met Ulysses and spent her next 20 pieces falling in love with him. Stella unwrapped the 26th piece, popped it in her mouth, and laid back with her eyes closed.
"Hey, when did you get here?" Ulysses said. She opened her eyes and saw him standing at the doorway to his room. "I was wondering when I'd get to see you again."
"I need to tell you something," Stella said. She sat up in his bed. Ulysses moved closer and sat next to her.
"Something wrong?" He asked.
"I have something to tell you. It's really weird and you probably won't believe me," she looked into his eyes. Golden starbursts surrounded his pupils. "But it's all true. I'm not crazy." Ulysses nodded.
"Okay, you're not crazy," he smiled. "What's the big secret?"
"I'm not from here," she tried starting broad. If he had problems with her being an outsider she would not have to elaborate. Ulysses nodded.
"I know. Is that it?" he wrapped his hand around hers. Stella shook her head.
"I don't mean this village or even this continent. I'm not from this Earth," she explained. Ulysses chuckled and nodded his head again.
"I know," he repeated with a squeeze of her hand. "It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal!? I'm from an alternate universe! How is that not a big deal?" Ulysses' eyes opened wide. The golden stars disappeared leaving boring, brown irises. “How do you know?”
"You don't know what you are?" he asked with a hushed tone. Stella felt like he was trying hard not to offend her.
"What do you mean?" she asked him.
"How have you been traveling here?" he asked. Stella remembered why they were having the conversation at all. She got distracted by his easy acceptance of her story.
"My grandma had some magic candies.. but I only have four left after this trip. It lasts for three days, so... starting today I only have 15 days here." Stella hung her head. Ulysses doubled over and burst into laughter; his jovialness shook the bed under her.
"Hey...," Stella said softly. She wanted to let him know he hurt her feelings. He quickly shook his head and hopped off the bed.
"You know, I always wondered why you didn't have a tattoo," he pointed to the star on his bicep with the number 35 on it. "And I looked all over," he winked. "C'mon, let's go get you one."
"Why do I need a tattoo?" she asked. Ulysses smiled and wiggled his hand at the air beside the bed. A black portal, like the one that formed when Stella ate a piece of candy, appeared.
"Because if you have a tattoo...," Ulysses smiled and led her off the bed. "...you can make a portal without the candy."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #121. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
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Bob looked at the candy in his hand, It seemed old buuuuut he really really liked candy, and the only reason that all his teeth has not fallen out yet was because of his rigorous teeth cleaning sessions he had whenever he ate candy. He shrugged, not like his grandma was going to miss them, though he always wondered why his grandma always chugged it down like a thirsty man in a desert seeing water after a long time.
&#x200B;
**nom**
&#x200B;
Opening his eyes he could see an open field full of Bison-like animals and walked towards them non-threateningly, the Bison moved away until only 1 little calf was on the field.
"Hello little Bison, Why are you alone?"
The little bison licked Bob's face and went back to staring at the grass
"Why are you not eating?"
Bob checked the stomach and felt that it was abnormal to him, of course it would be abnormal to him since he's in another place but Bob is not city-boy but was a full fledged dairy farmer and he knew a constipated Bovine when he felt it.
"All I have to do it-" He popped a chew into the little bovines mouth, and half an hour later a large spray of poo flew out of the little bovines booty.
&#x200B;
The little Bovine cheerfully glomped around and licked Bob's face
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2 more days pass peacefully
\----
Day 4
Bob was surprised when he was in the shed again, but when he looked outside it was about the same time as he left to that other-worldy place. He knew because the clock in the shed has shown that only 3 minutes passed so he popped another candy into his mouth.
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When he came back the little Bovine came running to him and licked his face, you could say the little bovine was the love of his life since if she vanished he'd be lonely.
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\---
Day 8
Another 3 days had passed with bob staying in the pasture, which surprisingly held an abundant amount of edible fruit, he noticed something about some of the fruits and snatched the seeds and put them in a cloth. He figured that back home had the same growth zone as the place he was currently in since they both had similar weather and temperature for the week he's been here.
\---
This continued on for a long time until bob only had 1 candy left, he looked at the bovine and was a bit sad. He was especially nice to her the past few days as she had grown into a healthy adult female bovine and had already been accepted back into the herd.
\---
Bob sighed as he came back into the shed, he'd already finished his last candy before forgetting about it. Then he read the lable (Recipe: White sugar, Confectionery powder, Vanilla extract, and seeds of that fruit that tastes like every sweet fruit)
Bob was wide-eyed, He had gathered a ton of those seeds when he was over and by his calculations there was at least 100 kilograms in the field where he had gone every time he ate a candy.
And as bob ate his home-made candy, he wondered how his grandma got the seed in the first place.
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[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
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I never told her our time together was finite. Our love was real, and true, but we were from different worlds. Or universes? I never really understood. I only knew that when I ate one of the little blue candies from my late Grandma's small jeweled tin, I was transported to a world containing Sera. I only had one candy left. When the effects wore off, how would I ever see Sera again?
I had planned a beautiful last date together. Wine, a picnic overlooking our favorite lake, and our song playing. And my Grandmother's ring. I'm not even certain that engagement rings are a thing in Sera's world, but I wanted her to have something of me after I was gone. And of course I also brought her my notebook.
From the moment I returned after the first candy wore off, I kept a diary. All my hopes and dreams, all my history and plans. My best jokes and worst puns. My love for her. I wrote it all down. The notebook was over 4 inches thick now - really several notebooks bound together with string. And in it I explained the candy, the two worlds, and where to find me if ever she found a way to visit mine. This was my last chance. I made sure to leave nothing out. Just in case.
Our last date went perfectly. She cried happy tears when I gave her the ring. She said she would marry me! For that one shining moment, I pretended as hard as I could that this was real and I could stay forever. I kissed her one last time, and gave her the notebook. I never warned her that this would be the last time I saw her. I didn't want to ruin even a moment of our precious time. I got up to leave.
"Already?" she asked, glancing at her watch. "I hoped we could stay longer this time. especially since..." Her voice trailed off as she gazed at my grandmother's ring on her finger, the sapphire catching the light of the setting sun. "I know," I said, trying desperately to hold it together. "Until next time, please read the notebook. I love you!"
And with that I was back in my Grandmother's attic again. Alone, I allowed myself to break down. Not that I could have stopped it if I tried.
The next week passed in a haze of tears and depression. I barely slept or ate. I scoured the attic for the 50th time looking for more candies. The doorbell rang. I couldn't be asked to answer. It rang again, followed by an insistent knocking. Another annoying neighbor with a casserole? Whoever it was wouldn't go away. I stumbled to the door and opened it, prepared to grump at the rude person interrupting my grief. As I opened the door I saw was a hand. With a sapphire ring. The world went black.
I awoke on the floor. I had passed out. "Are you ok?" "Sera..." I muttered. Had I only imagined her? A fresh wave of grief washed over me.
"Yes." I sat bolt upright. There was Sera. Or at least someone who looked exactly like Sera. But dressed in clothing of this world. I reached out for her. She couldn't be MY Sera? She reached back. On her hand was Grandma's ring.
"How...?" I couldn't manage a more coherent question. My mind was muddled by grief and a lack of food or sleep. Sera pulled a small box out of her purse. She opened it. It was full of little blue wrappers, identical to the ones on the candies I had used to reach her.
"I never told you," she began. "I didn't want to spoil things. I thought you were from there. It never occurred to me we were BOTH just visiting."
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Bob looked at the candy in his hand, It seemed old buuuuut he really really liked candy, and the only reason that all his teeth has not fallen out yet was because of his rigorous teeth cleaning sessions he had whenever he ate candy. He shrugged, not like his grandma was going to miss them, though he always wondered why his grandma always chugged it down like a thirsty man in a desert seeing water after a long time.
&#x200B;
**nom**
&#x200B;
Opening his eyes he could see an open field full of Bison-like animals and walked towards them non-threateningly, the Bison moved away until only 1 little calf was on the field.
"Hello little Bison, Why are you alone?"
The little bison licked Bob's face and went back to staring at the grass
"Why are you not eating?"
Bob checked the stomach and felt that it was abnormal to him, of course it would be abnormal to him since he's in another place but Bob is not city-boy but was a full fledged dairy farmer and he knew a constipated Bovine when he felt it.
"All I have to do it-" He popped a chew into the little bovines mouth, and half an hour later a large spray of poo flew out of the little bovines booty.
&#x200B;
The little Bovine cheerfully glomped around and licked Bob's face
&#x200B;
2 more days pass peacefully
\----
Day 4
Bob was surprised when he was in the shed again, but when he looked outside it was about the same time as he left to that other-worldy place. He knew because the clock in the shed has shown that only 3 minutes passed so he popped another candy into his mouth.
&#x200B;
When he came back the little Bovine came running to him and licked his face, you could say the little bovine was the love of his life since if she vanished he'd be lonely.
&#x200B;
\---
Day 8
Another 3 days had passed with bob staying in the pasture, which surprisingly held an abundant amount of edible fruit, he noticed something about some of the fruits and snatched the seeds and put them in a cloth. He figured that back home had the same growth zone as the place he was currently in since they both had similar weather and temperature for the week he's been here.
\---
This continued on for a long time until bob only had 1 candy left, he looked at the bovine and was a bit sad. He was especially nice to her the past few days as she had grown into a healthy adult female bovine and had already been accepted back into the herd.
\---
Bob sighed as he came back into the shed, he'd already finished his last candy before forgetting about it. Then he read the lable (Recipe: White sugar, Confectionery powder, Vanilla extract, and seeds of that fruit that tastes like every sweet fruit)
Bob was wide-eyed, He had gathered a ton of those seeds when he was over and by his calculations there was at least 100 kilograms in the field where he had gone every time he ate a candy.
And as bob ate his home-made candy, he wondered how his grandma got the seed in the first place.
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[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
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**Mint Juleps.**
Your flashlight catches glimpses of dust floating aimlessly in the airspace of the stairwell. The voices ofyour friends grow more distant as you contemplate climbing further. You had found a door towards the back of the master bedroom, one would assume it was just a closet, but it had led you here. Kat, Tasha, and Adin had convinced you to bring them along on this escapade. Your parents had left taking care of grandmas things up to you, and they thought it would be fun to make a game out of it. After all you weren't very close when she was alive. You weren't even very close when she remembered you. Their laughter bounces off the walls as they rummage through boxes of knickknacks and telemarketed items. But it fades as you creep up the steps. The smell of old books, aged fabric, and dampness wrap around you as you open the door at the top of the stairs.
&#x200B;
"Oh, it's just an attic."
&#x200B;
You speak out loud, almost startling yourself with how contrasting your voice feels in the quiet of the room. Glancing around its hard to see with just your torch, but you notice a chord hanging in the center of the room. When you pull it the room is touched with a soft glow, but a trunk seems illuminated among the various boxed and draped chairs. It creaks when you open it, a small shriek. There are various quilts and blankets, all seemingly handmade. But among fabric folds lies a glistening glass box with bubble flowers in the lid. You pull out the box and admire the work, you'd recently been intrigued by glass work. Funny, maybe your grandma made this? You'll ask dad later.
&#x200B;
You notice an attractive pink showing through the glass, adding a light blush to the roses. Opening the box the blush turns to rouge as rows of small candies identify themselves. They smell like strawberries and mint, and are shaped in small rounds, imperfect as if each had been hand crafted. You pick one up with your forefinger and thumb, and move it towards the light. Looking through there seems to be specks inside. You squint to get a closer look, bringing it almost to your eye. There's something there. You swear there's something more there. You just can't quite see it.
&#x200B;
"Whatchya looking at?"
&#x200B;
You startle, standing in the doorway is Kat, glancing curiously at you.
&#x200B;
"Oh, nothing just looking around, I found this cool box."
&#x200B;
You respond. Quickly stashing the candy into your pocket. You don't know why but you feel the need to hide it. She walks over and looks at the box holding the candies. Admiring it as you had a minute ago. She opens the box, mesmerized by the candy. Your heart rate picks up. You don't want her looking at them.
&#x200B;
"Where's everyone else?" You ask.
&#x200B;
Pulling her out of her trance, you take the box and place it back in the trunk with the blankets. Whatever it is, the others don't need to see it.
&#x200B;
"They're just downstairs, we found some cool old VHS tapes, we were hoping you knew where a player was."
&#x200B;
The two of you walk downstairs and you all spend the rest of the night watching home videos of your mom when she was a child. You swear you saw the box in that video.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
By 3 am you still can't sleep. Something about the attic, that box, those candies has gotten a hold of you. You feel like the beginning of a movie. The music is starting and the horns are swelling, you feel a call to something bigger than you. To your adventure. You need to investigate, you need to see them one more time. You feel deep in your gut that you need to eat one. The shoes across the room are suddenly on your feet, and your jacket swung around your arms. You were dressed and out the door. Riding your moped at night sketched you out, but this seemed important enough. The wind sobers you up a little.
Why was it so important? Why did you want to know the candies were okay? Was is a good idea to try one? When you pull up to your grandmothers house Kats car is already in the driveway.
&#x200B;
Your stomach drops.
&#x200B;
In a rush you slam your peg down, throw off your helmet, and run inside. Breath heavy, the sound of your heartbeat fills your ears, bounding the steps you reach the top of the staircase. The master bedroom has Kat's bag in it.
&#x200B;
"Kat! Kat, why are you here!?" You shout up the stairs as you enter the door frame. Your voice is filled with anger. Or was it dread?
&#x200B;
When you walk into the attic the light isn't on, but the moon sits in a small window across the room, barely illuminating a figure you believe to be Kat. She looks at you and the light spills on her face, streams of tears glisten. You don't know how but she looks as if she's aged. She seems sunken. The box is nearbye, strewn on the floor and completely empty. Your stomach bubbles with a stew of emotions. They're interconnected and confusing, almost impossible to identify. Mainly you feel stolen from. You snap back to reality when you hear a small sob come from Kat.
&#x200B;
Everything washes away as you see her there, so broken.
You walk over and sit with her, and gather her in your arms. She is your best friend; your love for her overshadows any other thoughts.
&#x200B;
"What happened?" you ask.
&#x200B;
"They're's gone, I can't see them anymore. They're just gone." Kat lets out in a whisper.
&#x200B;
"Who's gone Kat?" you coo.
&#x200B;
"River, they're out there, and I'm here, and there are no more candies." she lets out in a sob.
&#x200B;
"Who are they? How do you know them?"
&#x200B;
"I've loved them for three months over there. The candies took me there. And I knew they would run out but I got so caught up, so excited. I hadn't realized our time was up until there wasn't anymore. And I miss them so much."
&#x200B;
You're perplexed by her story, but you feel your heart reach out. You remember the candy in your pocket. For a second you want to keep it to yourself, but you're revolted at the thought.
&#x200B;
"Here." Her head lulls to you as you prod her to open her eyes.
&#x200B;
You hold out the last candy with an open palm, her eyes brighten, she lifts up like a balloon man being filled. Tentatively she reaches out for the candy. Her mouth opening and closing, contemplating the possibilities.
&#x200B;
The pain.
&#x200B;
"Do you want me here for after?" you ask. You don't know why but her approval seems important. It feels like you need her to want you there.
&#x200B;
"No, I think I'll want to be alone." Kat lets out.
&#x200B;
She looks at you, so grateful. You can't say no to the look on her face. You feel as if leaving is the only thing to do. The best thing to do by her. You get up to leave, turning back at the door frame, watching her settle into a laying position on the floor, holding the candy up to the moon, staring at something inside. Just before placing it into her mouth.
&#x200B;
Walking down the stairs you hear her start to call out to River, but halfway through her voice falls away, as if taken.
&#x200B;
You wonder if you are truly doing the right thing.
&#x200B;
The ride home is brisk.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
The next day your mom knocks on your door, waking you up.
&#x200B;
Apparently it's 1:30 pm, you've slept in. It was one of the best sleeps you've had in a while.
&#x200B;
Your mom has a funny face on, almost like the one she wore when you were nine and your 'dog had gone to a farm far away'. Sitting up in bed a lump gathers in your throat, you try to swallow it down but it sinks into your stomach. She sits on the edge of your bed next to you, placing a hand over yours.
&#x200B;
"Honey, something really bad happened. I don't want you to blame yourself, you couldn't have known she was depressed. None of us knew... Kat is gone. She died very early this morning."
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The very first time she was walking the opposite direction, and slowed down, until outright stopping, to look at me. I lost myself in those eyes almost immediately, but it was mostly being mesmerized than feeling proper love. And I was sure to stand out with my clothes, my hair, maybe even my face hadn't exactly features that would have been common in that world. Of course, my own appearing from nothing played a big role into changing everything.We were walking on a bridge made of stone, nothing surrounding us besides the blue sky, on the distant ends the cities gate were barely visible. I remember we were the only one there at that moment, a person or two were already far enough to notice. She looked ahead of her, unsure whether to continue moving or not, and then directed toward me. There was much I would've done differently in my own world, in my own reality, and at the time I didn't really grasp where I was. But I immediately moved toward her, and asked her where I was.That was the beginning of our first day together, a day spent going around, trying to quietly understand what was going on around us. We didn't speak the same language, and she realized this immediately, while I was attempting to talk a few words in the different languages I knew. She brought me within the city, inside what seemed to be a merchant's store full of local clothes, which helped in lowering the number of stares I was getting there. Then came the food. It was so flavourful and tasty. I wasn't sure of what it was, that made it so appealing. I wondered if it was full of nutrition, or maybe some specific substance inside of it was making it terribly addicting. Yet that couldn't be, as everything I tried became my new favourite food each time I wasn't too busy with anything else and too hungry to postpone a meal.We ate first in her home, after going back and forth within the city, inside places that seemed to come out of medieval stories and fantastic fables: a dusty library filled with drawings and books that would magically clean itself and get rid of dust once per week. A lake where you could dive in as normal, but also ensure the water would become steps to bring you down a refuge below water. The houses of the people had mostly all the doors open during the day, and I would discover later on that some of the people she talked to weren't known to her. Haggling for ingredients or talking openly, that was all the norm there.Speaking of the norm, something very similar to my world was the pet she had, which appeared from apparently nowhere, right as I was about to bite onto a very good looking piece of bread. It seemed to be a Bannock of sort, and I was looking at it when I saw something move right beneath it. Something that bumped onto me very hard and desirous of having me share food with it. It was a very large, cat-like creature, with a sort of mane around the neck, kind of like a lion, but still more of a house cat. His coat was wildly fluffy, and pleasant to the touch. Being able to taste the grainy, savoury bread, and feeling the wonderful hide of the pet at the same time with my hands made me feel like I was in heaven. I genuinely lowered my guard, unable to think of anything else, even though I did get a surprise when the girl looked at me, kneeling down, awaiting to do something. At the time I wondered if she had put something in the food, or studying me, but she was simply awaiting politely for me to proceed. It dawned on me that it was a full day I was there (although just from morrow to evening, but I thought those words then), and I wasn't even sure if I would go back in my own, if I were to 'wake up', or what exactly was going on. The taste of the bread and the amicability of the pet had eased my thoughts, but a dark, gloomy feeling overcame everything else in my head, and took its stand.She had pulled the curtains as to cover from the outside, even though it was very dark beyond the window, and closed two more curtains in the large living room where we were. Approaching me, she closed her eyes, and I closed them instinctively, feeling suddenly her forehead against mine, a bluish hue covering my eyes.I don't remember how long we stayed there, because it felt like an entire night, even though, when I opened my eyes, nothing seemed to have changed, and the pet was cleaning itself on the side. She was looking away too, which is why I opened my eyes in the first place: I hadn't felt her touch all of a sudden, and thought we were over, but after a few seconds of looking away she focused her gaze on mine, and closed her eyes again. I did the same, and we continued.I was extremely tired that night. Immediately after the act, a fatigue seemed to wear me incessantly, and it would be now bearable, now intolerable.The rug I was on seemed to bind me to it, as if it had hands and limbs pulling me down and assuring I wouldn't be able to move.She tried to move me, and I understood she wanted to bring me to her bed. I was so sure of that, for some reason, but I hadn't realized yet that I would be able to talk her language and understand her as if it were my own native one afterwards. She appeared worn out too, and with the pet in my left arm, she at my right side, now going back to open a dusty book at a certain page and living it there, now crawling back to where I was and burying her head next to mine, my conscience began to fade, aware until the last moment, tensing the few last seconds everything else went dark.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
&#x200B;
I wanted to write a short full story here, but as it turn out the more I think about the premise the more I think of elements to add to the story, and I think I would like to write bigger chapters for it. The creativity comes in bursts and leaves a lot of empty space in between, but maybe I can try to add something to it a bit everyday, or at a later time. In the meantime, I'll post the part I was writing before being interrupted, at least to see if it seemed interesting enough up to that point.Thanks a lot for the premise OP.
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[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
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(Cursing ahoy, ye be warned)
If you’d have told me yesterday that I’d consider a lone piece of Chocolate an affront to god and man, I’d have told you where you could shove said chocolate.
And yet, there it is. It’s practically taunting me, laughing spitefully from its little corner of the small box. Smug little shit.
The funeral was 5 days ago. You’d think I’d be relieved somewhat - after all, I was 16 when Mom got sick, and it’d been 8 long years of hard work and borderline poverty. Surely I’d seen my duty through, and my freedom from my burden warranted celebration?
...Yeah, you’d think so. But I’d learned in that time just how fair weather most relationships were. My sister’s too busy with her husband on the East Coast to call, most of my friends drifted away after high school, and the one that’s left only calls to hang out when he’s weepy drunk or needs money.
Truth is, Mom’s all I had. When she died, I felt...hollow, without purpose. Didn’t help that I’ve never been what you call socially capable. Dating apps for young curmudgeons aren’t exactly a booming market.
So when the Will was read, and I found that that my family’s ancestral home had been left to me, I figured it was a fair enough deal. It’s a roof, at least.
The house’s value did little to appreciate further when I found the old box of chocolates in the attic. Kevin Jones, home-and-chocolate-owner. Truly a model citizen and paragon of responsible adulthood. And my third grade teacher said I’d never amount to anything.
Little had I known, at the time, how important those chocolates would become that I’d be one day staring at the last one with the gravitas of staring at the last swallow of water in the goddamn Sahara.
No, no they AREN’T that good, for your information. They’re rotten and taste like shit. But still, I’d eat a thousand just to see her for 15 minutes more. Since I found out what those things do, I haven’t left the house in 5 days. I’m fairly certain the neighborhood kids have started circulating haunted house stories.
As I hold the last chocolate in my hands, and ponder over what I’m about to do, what I’ve been preparing since yesterday for, I’m reminded of a story. When some guy went to the electric chair a while ago, his last words before they flipped the switch were *“Let’s rock.”* I wonder if a moment of existential, romantic doom warrants those words of defiance as much as ACTUAL doom.
...Nah. I guess not.
I pop the chocolate into my mouth, and do my best to ignore the sour filling as the darkness envelops me.
————————
My vision clears and I find myself sitting against a wall, next to one of the large, cylindrical monstrosities that pass for dumpsters in this city. Jesus. 30 chocolates and not one of ‘em had had the decency to deposit me into a building.
In this case though, it’s proven to my benefit. The area I’ve been dumped in is in fact the local Park, just outside the city proper, and an excellent place to acquire something special for this meeting, something I do with great haste before proceeding into the brightly lit city streets.
I can’t help thinking about the first time I’d seen it, sprawling like it does. The bizarre, hovering vehicles. The large neon signs, with small golden specks of light dancing inside the tubes like glitter, beckoning passers-by inside for a drink, gambling, entertainment, and “Entertainment”.
not that I’d been inside many. I don’t do well with crowds.
I carefully eye the passing signs, finally settling on a bright sign, shaped in the image of a strange glass, closely approximate to an hourglass with an opened top, sitting next to a bottle of indescript alchohol with a red lipstick kiss on the front.
...Classy, I guess?
I make my way inside, passing several booths before I finally set eyes on her. She sits alone at the bar, tossing her wild, swept-back mane of bright electric blue hair from her left shoulder, and tapping one heel-clad shoe impatiently as she struggles to keep her evening gown in place.
*Guess I called it right dressing up this time,* I think, straightening my waistcoat as I sit. It’s the same outfit I wore to the funeral, but I’ll just keep that one to myself.
“There you are!” She huffs, folding her arms and making a pouty face as she adjusts the white cloth choker around her neck. “You’re late, you know.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I have a good reason.” I say, bringing out the small, wrapped bundle I’ve brought from the park. I unfurl it and hand her the four white flowers I picked from the park. “For you.”
Her emerald eyes soften instantly, brimming with poorly disguised joy. “Aww...Angel Whiskers. My favorite...”
She gives me a sweet little smile. The same one that penetrated my defenses the day we first met.
“You remembered...but you’ve never even seen them before. How did you know?”
I suddenly feel as if a sun lamp is focused on my cheeks.
“C’mon, Feleene. You told me the day we met, remember? You kept going on and on about the little whiskers that grow from the center and how you like how they tickle your nose.”
She giggles a bit, a little snort escaping before she tries to cover it up. I don’t know why she does that, really - I think it’s cute.
“Right, the day my hove broke down and you carried my stuff to the club for me. I’m surprised you were paying attention. You were so mad and you just kept cursing, even when I showed you around afterwards...” She giggles a bit more. “You’ve come a long way from being such a grouch, you know.”
“What can I say? Guess you bring out the best in me.”
She smiles her disarming smile. “Or maybe we bring out the best in each other.”
The heat lamps return. I opt to change the subject before I die of over-flushed face. “So...nice place.”
“Oh, isn’t it?” She motions to the stage. “The manager’s really nice. He was so impressed he lets me sing every Friday. It’s not much, but he says he gets talent agents through once in a while, and I’ve even got fans already - a couple asked for my autograph last night. It’s so exciting!”
She places a hand over mine.
“...And I never would’ve had the courage to ask if you hadn’t pushed me to.”
*Steady breaths, Kev.* “Y-Yeah...I mean, I’m sure you would’ve in time. You’re a great singer. You just need to be confident. ...So, does that mean you don’t have to dance at the club anymore?”
She sighs. “Don’t I wish. But I’m living my dreams now, so I have something to look forward to every week...aside from you, that is.”
Her own cheeks take on a rosy tinge as she peers sidewise at me. “By the way...the other girls still say they want me to introduce you sometime.”
I clear my throat uncomfortably. “Yeah...about that.”
She drops her gaze sadly, idly swirling her finger in her drink. “I know...you’re not going to be able to come back after the next two days, huh?”
She doesn’t wait for me to respond. Instead, she reaches out and damn near pulls me off my stool, burying her face in my chest as she wraps her arms around me.
Her voice come out muffled, and slightly on the verge of tears. “I’m...really going to miss this. I love you...y-you know that, right?”
I do the best I can to reciprocate the hug with my own shaky hands, resting my chin in her fluffy hair. “Yeah. I love you too.”
She raises her face from my chest, pausing to wipe away a tear. “H-hey, crazy idea. I know I pulled some strings to get you into the hotel, but maybe instead...you can stay with me tonight? I just-I want to make as many memories as we can, while we can, y’know?”
Oh, crap. This is NOT part of the plan.
“Uh...o-okay.”
|
The very first time she was walking the opposite direction, and slowed down, until outright stopping, to look at me. I lost myself in those eyes almost immediately, but it was mostly being mesmerized than feeling proper love. And I was sure to stand out with my clothes, my hair, maybe even my face hadn't exactly features that would have been common in that world. Of course, my own appearing from nothing played a big role into changing everything.We were walking on a bridge made of stone, nothing surrounding us besides the blue sky, on the distant ends the cities gate were barely visible. I remember we were the only one there at that moment, a person or two were already far enough to notice. She looked ahead of her, unsure whether to continue moving or not, and then directed toward me. There was much I would've done differently in my own world, in my own reality, and at the time I didn't really grasp where I was. But I immediately moved toward her, and asked her where I was.That was the beginning of our first day together, a day spent going around, trying to quietly understand what was going on around us. We didn't speak the same language, and she realized this immediately, while I was attempting to talk a few words in the different languages I knew. She brought me within the city, inside what seemed to be a merchant's store full of local clothes, which helped in lowering the number of stares I was getting there. Then came the food. It was so flavourful and tasty. I wasn't sure of what it was, that made it so appealing. I wondered if it was full of nutrition, or maybe some specific substance inside of it was making it terribly addicting. Yet that couldn't be, as everything I tried became my new favourite food each time I wasn't too busy with anything else and too hungry to postpone a meal.We ate first in her home, after going back and forth within the city, inside places that seemed to come out of medieval stories and fantastic fables: a dusty library filled with drawings and books that would magically clean itself and get rid of dust once per week. A lake where you could dive in as normal, but also ensure the water would become steps to bring you down a refuge below water. The houses of the people had mostly all the doors open during the day, and I would discover later on that some of the people she talked to weren't known to her. Haggling for ingredients or talking openly, that was all the norm there.Speaking of the norm, something very similar to my world was the pet she had, which appeared from apparently nowhere, right as I was about to bite onto a very good looking piece of bread. It seemed to be a Bannock of sort, and I was looking at it when I saw something move right beneath it. Something that bumped onto me very hard and desirous of having me share food with it. It was a very large, cat-like creature, with a sort of mane around the neck, kind of like a lion, but still more of a house cat. His coat was wildly fluffy, and pleasant to the touch. Being able to taste the grainy, savoury bread, and feeling the wonderful hide of the pet at the same time with my hands made me feel like I was in heaven. I genuinely lowered my guard, unable to think of anything else, even though I did get a surprise when the girl looked at me, kneeling down, awaiting to do something. At the time I wondered if she had put something in the food, or studying me, but she was simply awaiting politely for me to proceed. It dawned on me that it was a full day I was there (although just from morrow to evening, but I thought those words then), and I wasn't even sure if I would go back in my own, if I were to 'wake up', or what exactly was going on. The taste of the bread and the amicability of the pet had eased my thoughts, but a dark, gloomy feeling overcame everything else in my head, and took its stand.She had pulled the curtains as to cover from the outside, even though it was very dark beyond the window, and closed two more curtains in the large living room where we were. Approaching me, she closed her eyes, and I closed them instinctively, feeling suddenly her forehead against mine, a bluish hue covering my eyes.I don't remember how long we stayed there, because it felt like an entire night, even though, when I opened my eyes, nothing seemed to have changed, and the pet was cleaning itself on the side. She was looking away too, which is why I opened my eyes in the first place: I hadn't felt her touch all of a sudden, and thought we were over, but after a few seconds of looking away she focused her gaze on mine, and closed her eyes again. I did the same, and we continued.I was extremely tired that night. Immediately after the act, a fatigue seemed to wear me incessantly, and it would be now bearable, now intolerable.The rug I was on seemed to bind me to it, as if it had hands and limbs pulling me down and assuring I wouldn't be able to move.She tried to move me, and I understood she wanted to bring me to her bed. I was so sure of that, for some reason, but I hadn't realized yet that I would be able to talk her language and understand her as if it were my own native one afterwards. She appeared worn out too, and with the pet in my left arm, she at my right side, now going back to open a dusty book at a certain page and living it there, now crawling back to where I was and burying her head next to mine, my conscience began to fade, aware until the last moment, tensing the few last seconds everything else went dark.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
&#x200B;
I wanted to write a short full story here, but as it turn out the more I think about the premise the more I think of elements to add to the story, and I think I would like to write bigger chapters for it. The creativity comes in bursts and leaves a lot of empty space in between, but maybe I can try to add something to it a bit everyday, or at a later time. In the meantime, I'll post the part I was writing before being interrupted, at least to see if it seemed interesting enough up to that point.Thanks a lot for the premise OP.
|
|
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
|
"Five pieces left," Stella sighed at the handful of candy. Five pieces of black licorice hard candy rested in her palms. Each one wrapped in translucent purple cellophane. The young woman sat cross-legged on her bed at nine in the morning. Sunlight filled one side of the room while she sat in shadow. She took vacation time and cleared her schedule for the next week. After wasting too many pieces she realized the time difference. She only needed two and a half hours to go through the last pieces, but she expected to be heartbroken at the end.
"This is my special candy," Stella's grandma explained when the girl was only seven. "You can try a piece, but you won't like it. It's magical...," her grandma giggled and tapped Stella's nose. "...just like you. But it's like two magnets that push each other away." Alice was determined to prove her grandmother wrong and shoved the black candy into her mouth. Stella made a sour face, then the shiny, black, wet piece of candy was stuck to the carpet within two seconds. "Give your magic some time to mature," her grandmother said with a wink. "You'll like it when you're older." Her grandma never answered questions about the magical nature of the confection. She only ever saw the older woman eat it in the evening when she disappeared into her room for the night.
Stella found the hidden stockpile of sweets in her grandmother's attic and pocketed them all. She still didn't like licorice, but she was older now. She knew how to power through unpleasantness. By 22 she stopped believing in magic; then, that first sharp tartness prodded her tongue. She almost spit it out, but Stella clamped her teeth shut and imprisoned the candy. She was determined to keep it in her mouth no matter how much she wanted to be somewhere else at that moment. She imagined her grandmother laughing at her; then something black appeared. The first time she was in her living room. A tall, black hole floated in front of her couch. She believed in magic again and jumped through the hole.
On the other side, she found herself on a hill over-looking small village. She did not feel an ounce of fear. Instead, she dashed down to the town eager to explore. It wasn't until the third day that she began to wonder how to get home. She knew her grandmother always got home just fine, but she did not know how. Then, she was home. Stella did not waste any time and ate another piece of candy. She ate four pieces in a row before she started wondering about the world she was leaving behind. That's when she found out about the time difference. On her fifth trip, she met Ulysses and spent her next 20 pieces falling in love with him. Stella unwrapped the 26th piece, popped it in her mouth, and laid back with her eyes closed.
"Hey, when did you get here?" Ulysses said. She opened her eyes and saw him standing at the doorway to his room. "I was wondering when I'd get to see you again."
"I need to tell you something," Stella said. She sat up in his bed. Ulysses moved closer and sat next to her.
"Something wrong?" He asked.
"I have something to tell you. It's really weird and you probably won't believe me," she looked into his eyes. Golden starbursts surrounded his pupils. "But it's all true. I'm not crazy." Ulysses nodded.
"Okay, you're not crazy," he smiled. "What's the big secret?"
"I'm not from here," she tried starting broad. If he had problems with her being an outsider she would not have to elaborate. Ulysses nodded.
"I know. Is that it?" he wrapped his hand around hers. Stella shook her head.
"I don't mean this village or even this continent. I'm not from this Earth," she explained. Ulysses chuckled and nodded his head again.
"I know," he repeated with a squeeze of her hand. "It's not a big deal."
"Not a big deal!? I'm from an alternate universe! How is that not a big deal?" Ulysses' eyes opened wide. The golden stars disappeared leaving boring, brown irises. “How do you know?”
"You don't know what you are?" he asked with a hushed tone. Stella felt like he was trying hard not to offend her.
"What do you mean?" she asked him.
"How have you been traveling here?" he asked. Stella remembered why they were having the conversation at all. She got distracted by his easy acceptance of her story.
"My grandma had some magic candies.. but I only have four left after this trip. It lasts for three days, so... starting today I only have 15 days here." Stella hung her head. Ulysses doubled over and burst into laughter; his jovialness shook the bed under her.
"Hey...," Stella said softly. She wanted to let him know he hurt her feelings. He quickly shook his head and hopped off the bed.
"You know, I always wondered why you didn't have a tattoo," he pointed to the star on his bicep with the number 35 on it. "And I looked all over," he winked. "C'mon, let's go get you one."
"Why do I need a tattoo?" she asked. Ulysses smiled and wiggled his hand at the air beside the bed. A black portal, like the one that formed when Stella ate a piece of candy, appeared.
"Because if you have a tattoo...," Ulysses smiled and led her off the bed. "...you can make a portal without the candy."
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, day #121. You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse)) or my [blog](https://hugoverse.info/). If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the [Guidebook](https://hugoverse.info/2017/11/25/hugoverse-guidebook/) to see what's what and who's who, or the [Timeline](https://hugoverse.info/2017/10/23/hugoverse-timeline/) to find the stories in order.
|
The very first time she was walking the opposite direction, and slowed down, until outright stopping, to look at me. I lost myself in those eyes almost immediately, but it was mostly being mesmerized than feeling proper love. And I was sure to stand out with my clothes, my hair, maybe even my face hadn't exactly features that would have been common in that world. Of course, my own appearing from nothing played a big role into changing everything.We were walking on a bridge made of stone, nothing surrounding us besides the blue sky, on the distant ends the cities gate were barely visible. I remember we were the only one there at that moment, a person or two were already far enough to notice. She looked ahead of her, unsure whether to continue moving or not, and then directed toward me. There was much I would've done differently in my own world, in my own reality, and at the time I didn't really grasp where I was. But I immediately moved toward her, and asked her where I was.That was the beginning of our first day together, a day spent going around, trying to quietly understand what was going on around us. We didn't speak the same language, and she realized this immediately, while I was attempting to talk a few words in the different languages I knew. She brought me within the city, inside what seemed to be a merchant's store full of local clothes, which helped in lowering the number of stares I was getting there. Then came the food. It was so flavourful and tasty. I wasn't sure of what it was, that made it so appealing. I wondered if it was full of nutrition, or maybe some specific substance inside of it was making it terribly addicting. Yet that couldn't be, as everything I tried became my new favourite food each time I wasn't too busy with anything else and too hungry to postpone a meal.We ate first in her home, after going back and forth within the city, inside places that seemed to come out of medieval stories and fantastic fables: a dusty library filled with drawings and books that would magically clean itself and get rid of dust once per week. A lake where you could dive in as normal, but also ensure the water would become steps to bring you down a refuge below water. The houses of the people had mostly all the doors open during the day, and I would discover later on that some of the people she talked to weren't known to her. Haggling for ingredients or talking openly, that was all the norm there.Speaking of the norm, something very similar to my world was the pet she had, which appeared from apparently nowhere, right as I was about to bite onto a very good looking piece of bread. It seemed to be a Bannock of sort, and I was looking at it when I saw something move right beneath it. Something that bumped onto me very hard and desirous of having me share food with it. It was a very large, cat-like creature, with a sort of mane around the neck, kind of like a lion, but still more of a house cat. His coat was wildly fluffy, and pleasant to the touch. Being able to taste the grainy, savoury bread, and feeling the wonderful hide of the pet at the same time with my hands made me feel like I was in heaven. I genuinely lowered my guard, unable to think of anything else, even though I did get a surprise when the girl looked at me, kneeling down, awaiting to do something. At the time I wondered if she had put something in the food, or studying me, but she was simply awaiting politely for me to proceed. It dawned on me that it was a full day I was there (although just from morrow to evening, but I thought those words then), and I wasn't even sure if I would go back in my own, if I were to 'wake up', or what exactly was going on. The taste of the bread and the amicability of the pet had eased my thoughts, but a dark, gloomy feeling overcame everything else in my head, and took its stand.She had pulled the curtains as to cover from the outside, even though it was very dark beyond the window, and closed two more curtains in the large living room where we were. Approaching me, she closed her eyes, and I closed them instinctively, feeling suddenly her forehead against mine, a bluish hue covering my eyes.I don't remember how long we stayed there, because it felt like an entire night, even though, when I opened my eyes, nothing seemed to have changed, and the pet was cleaning itself on the side. She was looking away too, which is why I opened my eyes in the first place: I hadn't felt her touch all of a sudden, and thought we were over, but after a few seconds of looking away she focused her gaze on mine, and closed her eyes again. I did the same, and we continued.I was extremely tired that night. Immediately after the act, a fatigue seemed to wear me incessantly, and it would be now bearable, now intolerable.The rug I was on seemed to bind me to it, as if it had hands and limbs pulling me down and assuring I wouldn't be able to move.She tried to move me, and I understood she wanted to bring me to her bed. I was so sure of that, for some reason, but I hadn't realized yet that I would be able to talk her language and understand her as if it were my own native one afterwards. She appeared worn out too, and with the pet in my left arm, she at my right side, now going back to open a dusty book at a certain page and living it there, now crawling back to where I was and burying her head next to mine, my conscience began to fade, aware until the last moment, tensing the few last seconds everything else went dark.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
&#x200B;
I wanted to write a short full story here, but as it turn out the more I think about the premise the more I think of elements to add to the story, and I think I would like to write bigger chapters for it. The creativity comes in bursts and leaves a lot of empty space in between, but maybe I can try to add something to it a bit everyday, or at a later time. In the meantime, I'll post the part I was writing before being interrupted, at least to see if it seemed interesting enough up to that point.Thanks a lot for the premise OP.
|
|
[WP] Exploring the attic of your dead grandmother's old house, you find 30 pieces of candy that when eaten, transports your conciousness to another, magical world (for 3 days in theirs and 3 minutes in ours). You find the love of your life in this world, but the candies are running out...
|
I never told her our time together was finite. Our love was real, and true, but we were from different worlds. Or universes? I never really understood. I only knew that when I ate one of the little blue candies from my late Grandma's small jeweled tin, I was transported to a world containing Sera. I only had one candy left. When the effects wore off, how would I ever see Sera again?
I had planned a beautiful last date together. Wine, a picnic overlooking our favorite lake, and our song playing. And my Grandmother's ring. I'm not even certain that engagement rings are a thing in Sera's world, but I wanted her to have something of me after I was gone. And of course I also brought her my notebook.
From the moment I returned after the first candy wore off, I kept a diary. All my hopes and dreams, all my history and plans. My best jokes and worst puns. My love for her. I wrote it all down. The notebook was over 4 inches thick now - really several notebooks bound together with string. And in it I explained the candy, the two worlds, and where to find me if ever she found a way to visit mine. This was my last chance. I made sure to leave nothing out. Just in case.
Our last date went perfectly. She cried happy tears when I gave her the ring. She said she would marry me! For that one shining moment, I pretended as hard as I could that this was real and I could stay forever. I kissed her one last time, and gave her the notebook. I never warned her that this would be the last time I saw her. I didn't want to ruin even a moment of our precious time. I got up to leave.
"Already?" she asked, glancing at her watch. "I hoped we could stay longer this time. especially since..." Her voice trailed off as she gazed at my grandmother's ring on her finger, the sapphire catching the light of the setting sun. "I know," I said, trying desperately to hold it together. "Until next time, please read the notebook. I love you!"
And with that I was back in my Grandmother's attic again. Alone, I allowed myself to break down. Not that I could have stopped it if I tried.
The next week passed in a haze of tears and depression. I barely slept or ate. I scoured the attic for the 50th time looking for more candies. The doorbell rang. I couldn't be asked to answer. It rang again, followed by an insistent knocking. Another annoying neighbor with a casserole? Whoever it was wouldn't go away. I stumbled to the door and opened it, prepared to grump at the rude person interrupting my grief. As I opened the door I saw was a hand. With a sapphire ring. The world went black.
I awoke on the floor. I had passed out. "Are you ok?" "Sera..." I muttered. Had I only imagined her? A fresh wave of grief washed over me.
"Yes." I sat bolt upright. There was Sera. Or at least someone who looked exactly like Sera. But dressed in clothing of this world. I reached out for her. She couldn't be MY Sera? She reached back. On her hand was Grandma's ring.
"How...?" I couldn't manage a more coherent question. My mind was muddled by grief and a lack of food or sleep. Sera pulled a small box out of her purse. She opened it. It was full of little blue wrappers, identical to the ones on the candies I had used to reach her.
"I never told you," she began. "I didn't want to spoil things. I thought you were from there. It never occurred to me we were BOTH just visiting."
|
The very first time she was walking the opposite direction, and slowed down, until outright stopping, to look at me. I lost myself in those eyes almost immediately, but it was mostly being mesmerized than feeling proper love. And I was sure to stand out with my clothes, my hair, maybe even my face hadn't exactly features that would have been common in that world. Of course, my own appearing from nothing played a big role into changing everything.We were walking on a bridge made of stone, nothing surrounding us besides the blue sky, on the distant ends the cities gate were barely visible. I remember we were the only one there at that moment, a person or two were already far enough to notice. She looked ahead of her, unsure whether to continue moving or not, and then directed toward me. There was much I would've done differently in my own world, in my own reality, and at the time I didn't really grasp where I was. But I immediately moved toward her, and asked her where I was.That was the beginning of our first day together, a day spent going around, trying to quietly understand what was going on around us. We didn't speak the same language, and she realized this immediately, while I was attempting to talk a few words in the different languages I knew. She brought me within the city, inside what seemed to be a merchant's store full of local clothes, which helped in lowering the number of stares I was getting there. Then came the food. It was so flavourful and tasty. I wasn't sure of what it was, that made it so appealing. I wondered if it was full of nutrition, or maybe some specific substance inside of it was making it terribly addicting. Yet that couldn't be, as everything I tried became my new favourite food each time I wasn't too busy with anything else and too hungry to postpone a meal.We ate first in her home, after going back and forth within the city, inside places that seemed to come out of medieval stories and fantastic fables: a dusty library filled with drawings and books that would magically clean itself and get rid of dust once per week. A lake where you could dive in as normal, but also ensure the water would become steps to bring you down a refuge below water. The houses of the people had mostly all the doors open during the day, and I would discover later on that some of the people she talked to weren't known to her. Haggling for ingredients or talking openly, that was all the norm there.Speaking of the norm, something very similar to my world was the pet she had, which appeared from apparently nowhere, right as I was about to bite onto a very good looking piece of bread. It seemed to be a Bannock of sort, and I was looking at it when I saw something move right beneath it. Something that bumped onto me very hard and desirous of having me share food with it. It was a very large, cat-like creature, with a sort of mane around the neck, kind of like a lion, but still more of a house cat. His coat was wildly fluffy, and pleasant to the touch. Being able to taste the grainy, savoury bread, and feeling the wonderful hide of the pet at the same time with my hands made me feel like I was in heaven. I genuinely lowered my guard, unable to think of anything else, even though I did get a surprise when the girl looked at me, kneeling down, awaiting to do something. At the time I wondered if she had put something in the food, or studying me, but she was simply awaiting politely for me to proceed. It dawned on me that it was a full day I was there (although just from morrow to evening, but I thought those words then), and I wasn't even sure if I would go back in my own, if I were to 'wake up', or what exactly was going on. The taste of the bread and the amicability of the pet had eased my thoughts, but a dark, gloomy feeling overcame everything else in my head, and took its stand.She had pulled the curtains as to cover from the outside, even though it was very dark beyond the window, and closed two more curtains in the large living room where we were. Approaching me, she closed her eyes, and I closed them instinctively, feeling suddenly her forehead against mine, a bluish hue covering my eyes.I don't remember how long we stayed there, because it felt like an entire night, even though, when I opened my eyes, nothing seemed to have changed, and the pet was cleaning itself on the side. She was looking away too, which is why I opened my eyes in the first place: I hadn't felt her touch all of a sudden, and thought we were over, but after a few seconds of looking away she focused her gaze on mine, and closed her eyes again. I did the same, and we continued.I was extremely tired that night. Immediately after the act, a fatigue seemed to wear me incessantly, and it would be now bearable, now intolerable.The rug I was on seemed to bind me to it, as if it had hands and limbs pulling me down and assuring I wouldn't be able to move.She tried to move me, and I understood she wanted to bring me to her bed. I was so sure of that, for some reason, but I hadn't realized yet that I would be able to talk her language and understand her as if it were my own native one afterwards. She appeared worn out too, and with the pet in my left arm, she at my right side, now going back to open a dusty book at a certain page and living it there, now crawling back to where I was and burying her head next to mine, my conscience began to fade, aware until the last moment, tensing the few last seconds everything else went dark.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
&#x200B;
I wanted to write a short full story here, but as it turn out the more I think about the premise the more I think of elements to add to the story, and I think I would like to write bigger chapters for it. The creativity comes in bursts and leaves a lot of empty space in between, but maybe I can try to add something to it a bit everyday, or at a later time. In the meantime, I'll post the part I was writing before being interrupted, at least to see if it seemed interesting enough up to that point.Thanks a lot for the premise OP.
|
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