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[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch Merid sighed in disbelief before condescendingly scorning me.
​
"I can't believe how much of a contemptible fool you truly are. All that all of you baseborn oafs ever do is choose to live a fruitless life anyways, even when you have been blessed with the opportunities to do so much more. The world is so vast that it is statistically impossible for any one person to know it all, that there is mystery and wonder in everything around us, and yet you choose to do nothing but indulge yourself in video games, pornography, and alcoholic beverages. I find your primitive lifestyle in distaste; it is absolutely repulsive and is smeared in nothing but filth. It is of little matter now, however, for you who has wasted your gift of life, I shall now curse you with a life of meaning. You will still be able to lavish yourself in alcohol, but you shall never fall into drunken stupor. Pornography will no longer exist in the form you are very so familiar with and video games no longer exist. You will now spend the rest of your days contemplating who you were, how you ever came to be, and why you appeared when you did. Sleep now, my child, for you will one day be the instrument of my cleansing light and wipe clean the foul perversions of life."
​
Before I knew it, my vision became shrouded in darkness. I felt a strange heat emanating from the ceiling, as if the light of the sun's rays had pierced through the roof. I heard sounds, horses? How did horses get inside the witch's house? They tapped against the ground as if they were stepping on stone and dirt. Was I outside? Where was I earlier? Who am I? I can't seem to remember or recall a memory. I opened my eyes and found myself in a wooden cart trotting down a mountainous path decorated in boulder and pine trees. There were three men who sat in the carriage with me, and to my discovery, all of our hands were bound. They all dressed strangely, and before I could ask the man to the right of me why he had some sort of cloth muzzle going on, I heard,
​
"Hey, you. You're finally awake. You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there."
|
Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
“Wait. That’s the curse?”
“Yes. I understand you want this gone as quickly as possible. I am so sorry this happened. I’m going to need-“
“I- can you please repeat what exactly this does? I think I’m hearing this wrong.”
The witch before blinked in surprise at my response and cough and quickly averted her eyes. After a few awkward seconds she picks up a rather large, leather book. She carefully flips the old, delicate pages with great care until she stopped at a picture of an adventurer armed with a broad sword and a cheeky smile. I always loved reading stories, especially fantasy. It was a whole new world for me, I felt ever sorrows and laughs the characters felt. It was as if I was actually there. And I guess I am today. He looked so... alive. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and such passion within them! He must have been very happy.
The witch handed me this large story book of sorts and went to the cabinet, searching through vials of all sorts of unknown substances. Most looks like some herbs I had never seen but I noticed ones that contained purple hair, blood, dirt, moss, water, feathers, pebbles and some liquid that gave off a green glow in the cabinet’s darkness. *I really did travel to a new world, didn’t I?*
“I am so sorry but you are trapped here until we can reverse this curse. You can no longer go back to your old world. I know this may be tough but I will make sure to get you back to your family! This book entails another human, who just like you became trapped.”
I looked away and said nothing as my throat felt as though it was shut closed. Something clicked in the back of my throat as my eyes began to swell with tears. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Oh, dear. It’s okay! As long as you have that necklace you have hope to go back to your home. I promise you-“
I stopped listening all together at that point. A dark feeling that slowly took over my whole body and suddenly I snapped. I jerked my head up and tore off the cheap, plastic necklace from my neck. I didn’t care that it was ruined.
Actually, I decided I did. I stood up and tossed the necklace into the fire pit, watching the plastic fairy melt slowly into a puddle. I didn’t look at the witch but I could feel her eyes bore into me. I sat down in the floor and watched the flames for what seemed like hours until all that was left were a few burning embers.
How do I explain to her I had no home to go to? That the people who should love and protect me, never did. I have never felt safe in a home until I came into this world. I remembered the many faces I came to see in my time here and how kind and thoughtful they were. People gave me shelter, wisdom, new foods and so many wild adventures from just a few days. I actually felt happy. I had FRIENDS and I felt like I finally had a place I belonged.
Nobody hit me. Nobody called me names or pulled my hair.
The witch never said a thing to me that entire ordeal but finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.
“I am never going back. Never.”, I said firmly.
I finally looked up to see the witch’s wide eyes looking back at me. She gave me a sad smile and sat down next to me. She looked back into the once roaring fire pit and slowly nodded.
“Okay. No going back.”
After a short pause she took out a pair of silver keys with a decorative rose engraved on them. She clasped her hand over mine and gave me a sympathetic look. She gave a half hearted smile then looked back up at me.
“You’re welcome to stay in my home as long as you need. I was wondering if you wanted to help me run the shop, I can even teach you how to make any potion you want. Who knows? Maybe you can be an amazing witch one day.”
I grinned ear from ear and chuckled. She smiled back and leaned in.
“What do you say?”
“I’d like to. I’d love that a lot actually.”
|
Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
You blink once. And twice. You look at the beautiful and alluring woman in front of you in confusion. Certainly you must have heard it all wrong.
“So... what’s the downside again?”
The woman in question smiles at you, and once again you feel fear. You couldn’t pinpoint what was unsettling about her smile, but it made you shiver. And that made you remember that she wasn’t your typical woman in a bar. She was someone – no, *something* – that came straight out of a fairytale. Or a nightmare to be more precise.
“Your innocence will be your downfall. If you don’t see the problem in what I said, child, then you’re more doomed then what I presumed”, and with that, she raised herself from her place and was making her way for the exit.
“Wait!”, you scream, reaching out to grab the woman’s wrist. That was your second mistake of the night, and you realized that when the witch looked you in the eyes and you felt the power of her hatred for you, “please, I didn’t understand what you said, I-”
“You said it yourself, sweetheart: love is the most stupid thing that one can feel, and sex is one of the few things that makes life worth living. So that’s what I wish upon you: you will have the most amazing sex in this world with every man and woman you desire, they will leave your bed thinking of you in the years to come, but none of them will be able to love you back. And the one that you love, well…”, she touched your face with that same smile – so innocent, so evil – while she got even closer to you, breaking your personal space, “you just have to wait and see how your love treat them back.”
The witch then kissed you right in the lips. Nothing obscene or too long, just a peck. You closed your eyes, even though you were mortified, and when you opened them, she was gone.
​
X
​
“I told you, I wasn’t high or anything like that! It was real!”, you said to your roommate for the hundredth times.
“Okay, so you *really* want me to believe that a witch talked to you at Joe’s, you guys started talking about hooking up and she dropped a curse on you? Like… are you listening to yourself?”
“I still don’t see the point in the whole thing”, you nervously laughed, “like, if she really wanted me to suffer throwing a curse, maybe she should have made sex something horrible for me? That would really be fucked up.”
“Or maybe she just wanted to teach you a lesson”, said Lisa.
“Yeah, maybe”, you agreed, still remembering the woman’s eyes on yours and shivering right away, “We’ll never know.”
​
X
​
You never cared much about love.
You grew up in a family divided by an amicable divorce. No cheating or anything of the sorts. Your parents just grew apart from one another, and you, being an only child, saw by yourself how distant and stranger-like your parents became. And from a young age you understood that’s just how life works. People get together, enjoy their time and then go away. The sooner you understood this, the less hurtful it became, until you got to a point where it isn’t hurtful anymore. Actually, it’s quite expected. No problems with that.
That thought just got stronger and stronger with the passing of years. Both of your parents had their fair share of romantic partners, but the ending was the same: break ups. A few years ago your father married another woman, and even from afar you could see that relationship was a sinking ship. There wasn’t love, they endured each other and didn’t want to die alone. That was the sad part of it all; not accepting that solitude is a gift.
You and your mother were more alike. She threw herself into work after the divorce. She’s a business woman and doesn’t want to lose time with men who can’t keep up with what she needs and wants. Most of her relationships don’t last more than six months, but she’s ruthless in business and burst with self-confidence. Whenever you two talk, she never complains about being alone for too long or being afraid of not finding someone worth it. And when confronted about how fast things end, she always says “I already spent too much time in a loveless marriage, and I won’t settle for scraps”.
You were comfortable being alone. It was something that you were always used to be. You didn’t have many friends growing up and seeing the nature of your parents’ relationship and how the world worked, you just got used to the idea that love is something for fairytales and movies. Yes, it is beautiful, the thought of someone loving you so selflessly, wishing your happiness above their own selfish desires, but it wasn’t real. And when puberty came, you realized something that was far, far better than that childish feeling: sex. And orgasms, of course.
You were always honest with your partners. You weren’t looking for love, you didn’t want them to call you back or send you messages to know if you were okay.
You just want sex. Period. Good old sex. Nothing more.
The weeks passed and the thought of the curse being real kept eating you alive, but everything was fine. No, everything was perfect. It was everything you wished and more.
But she didn’t bless you with a wish. She cursed you, and a curse shouldn’t feel this good.
​
X
​
It all changed when she appeared. Her name was Carina, and you two got closer and closer by the days. Contrary to your beliefs, you didn’t jump to sex right away. She has never been with another woman before, and said her attraction for you made her extremely confused at first. Both of you took your time to discover each other’s bodies. You would kiss and then just sleep together, and you would be contempt with that. Just being around Carina felt good. You liked being with her and wanted to share more and more of your life with her.
Naturally things progressed and sex became part of your encounters. Like always, it felt amazing, but there was something more. There was something more being shared between you two that made everything better. Made everything fuller. And afterwards, having her on your arms, whispering silly things on your ears while laughing post-orgasm was one of the best sights you have ever seen.
You wanted that woman so much it’s scary. The curse was always lurking around in the back of your head during those moments, but it’s been so long you barely remember the words from the witch. If it ever had a witch. You certainly drank a few that night.
Until Carina became sick.
At first it was just complaining about how you left her so tired she didn’t want to move away from the bed. Both of you actually laughed from that, because the sex was always incredibly good. After the headaches. And then one time you were cuddling in bed, feeling her body against yours, when she abruptly ran to the bathroom and started vomiting. You didn’t think much about it, thought maybe she ate something bad, until it became a norm right after sex.
From there it became worse. She stopped having sex with you and went to two doctors trying to figure out what was happening to her. Nothing was wrong with her, nothing in her food was making her have that kind of reaction. She distanced herself from you when she realized that even being in the same room with you made her sick.
You were always by her side, supporting her with everything you could do, and it hurt *so*, *so bad* when she called you on that faithful Thursday afternoon.
“I-I’m sorry”, Carina said through sobs, “but I can’t do this anymore.”
“Shh, it’s okay, we will figure it out”, you said back, trying to contain your emotions.
“No, you don’t understand! I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be with you, I’m sorry!”
“Carina, wait, I-”, you said while listening to her crying, “I love you.”
She took some time before turning off the phone, and sound of her silence haunted you.
You were all alone.
|
Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"What?"
"I asked what the downside is."
"I've just told you."
"No you haven't."
"Yes, I have."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Then why don't I remember?"
My ears seemed to fill with cotton, and I grew dizzy as she spoke once more.
"That ought to teach you lesson."
I blinked. "Sorry what was the curse again?"
The woman unleashed an ear rending shriek and slammed the door in my face.
"Ah kay then." I spun and walked out toward the gate. A sudden flash of deja-vu struck me as I touched the handle.
Oh yeah, I meant to ask her something.
I turned around once more, and knocked on the door.
|
Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"I see your plumpness." She crowed. "Oh yes, very wealthy you must be to afford so much food. I'm sure your resounding footsteps set all the ladies a quiver. With this spell, you shall shed your fat. No matter how much you eat you'll not gain it back."
I glanced down at my plump form. It was true, I was heavy, even approaching the fabled "dummy thicc". I'd been trying all sorts of diets, but their gallant efforts were crushed beneath my inexhaustible love of dessert. I sighed.
The witch didn't look the part at all. She was old, sure, elderly even, and she did wear a pointy hat, but the stereotype ended there. She wore thick bifocals and walked with the aid of a walker, complete with little tennis balls on the front. She wore a pastel bath robe over a t-shirt with a kitten hanging from a tree branch, words beneath read "hang in there". Her legs wobbled as she stood.
"I... I don't know what to say. Being fat hasn't been a status symbol in a long, long time. I've been trying to lose weight, actually."
"Oh, I know, deary." She said with a kind smile. "I'm an old witch, though, and all I know is curses, and you're such a nice young man. Now would you care for a treat? The cookies are nearly done."
"I probably shouldn't..." I said, reluctantly.
"Now listen here, I can bottle dreams and brew love, I think I can find my way around some chocolate chips." She began to shuffle back to the kitchen. "It's not like you're going to get any fatter."
I obliged and followed her into the small kitchen, wincing at the peeling linoleum. She fumbled with an oven mitt for a moment. "Do you need help with that?"
The oven door opened and the smell of cookies came wafting out. "I can manage." She said, setting the cookie sheet down across a pair of burners, which wobbled.
I took a brief glance at my surroundings. The house was in a sorry state. The paint was flaking, the window sat crooked. "I'm not really busy this weekend. Maybe I could come over and help you fix up the place?"
"You do something like that you're likely to get a powerful curse coming your way. I've got a few I learned in Egypt a long time ago. Horrible, terrible things."
"Like boils and fever and bad dreams?" I asked, leaning over the dingy little table and accepting a steaming mug of something that the witch slid my way.
"Oh that's kid stuff. I'm thinking more biblical. Maybe from Ezekiel 23." She grinned but I didn't get the reference, and her grin faded as she dropped a lump of sugar into her mug and stirred. "Oh, folks in those days had the strangest idea of what a curse was."
Edit: This was rapidly going nowhere and I didn't want to scrap it and I had a better idea for a much shorter response, which I'll write now.
She cackled. "My most powerful curse! A curse that cannot be undone! I curse you with long life! So that you may watch as your children as I write their destiny. Great your works may be, but they shall pale in comparison to your children, which shall likewise pale in comparison to the works of your children's children. Generation after generation their success will grow until all your work, all you've accomplished will be forgotten beneath their fully realized potential!" She cackled, a hideous sound that slowly faded.
"I... Thank you!" I shouted. That's all any parent wanted, right? For their kids to do better than them.
The witch deflated, then turned around slowly, mumbling "well I don't know what I did wrong that really upset the pharaoh last time I did it."
|
Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
Of course, it was not very pleasant. I just failed my payment. But then, it was not easy with the king getting his taxes, with my wife and children needing food. Yes, we had money, usually.
Not that winter. Who could have thought that it is war again? Who could have thought that we had to flee? We returned a few months later, but by then I was months overdue.
I made that pun. Whenever I was asked what the secret of my youth was, I answered with "Mary". They understood "Marry!", and I never elaborated further than saying that a good woman can give you a long life. I wish I knew how right I was.
The spring of 1620 was financially fine but not plentiful. But eventually I had to go to her. I brought the money. She was okay with it. But she had to curse me. It was a contractual agreement, but in an exchange for some payment she also would give me the means to break that curse whenever I wanted.
I had asked for youth, for a long life. She gave it to me.
"So. There is a curse. What is it? So... what's the downside again?" I nervously blinked. I don't do that anymore, but at that time I did. Her curse was that I would live so long that I would have to see everyone I loved die. Only then could I break that curse and die myself. Furthermore I would be the last of my bloodline. My children would not have children, my wife would not have any more children.
The war went on. It went on until 1648. We lost much, our house was destroyed twice. My eldest son fell in a battle, my youngest fell ill and passed away. My daughter, the only child left, eventually married but remained childless. Our marriage, in its beautiful times, ended with more pregnancies, but the children died at birth. The doctors were unable to explain it. When rumors came up in 1632, we had to leave the city. We moved away to a place where nobody knew us. Of course, I was cursed. But they thought we killed the children. They thought we were punished by God.
The hardest day in my life was when a child of my wife did not die at birth. It was then that I knew that she was no longer loyal to me. I pretended to go for work, but I drowned myself. I jumped into a river, I bonked my head, I slept for many hours. Or as I learnt later, I was unsoncsious. We did not have that word.
But I woke up. I coughed out all the water in my lungs. My cold skin turned warmer as my heart beat again. This was the extent of the curse. I would not die. I would keep my youth. I cried. At that day I cried more than ever before. And then I laid there for days. The hunger was overwhelming, but I could not really move. I ate grass, I drank the morning dew from it. But my legs, after having slept for hours after falling into the river, my arms even, only slowly regained their power. Eventually I stood up. I returned to my wife.
The townsguard was shocked to see me. I don't know why. I still don't know why. They said it was my face. But I looked into a mirror later, days later, and there was nothing. They also confirmed that it was gone. They refused to talk about it.
We reconciled, we lost, as I said earlier, once more everything. Near the end of the war soldiers fell into our town. I had to watch as... I'm sorry, I can't talk about it. I lost my wife that day, but after seeing what happened to her for hours, I felt it was for the better. Nevertheless I cried. I cried again. I cried for hours, if not days.
I don't really remember much of what happened afterwards. I opened a shop somewhere again. I was respected quickly again. But one day I disappeared. People thought I had died. But I ran away. I was still young. I was still beautiful.
I moved every few years, so people would not suspect anything. For quite some years I was in France. I named myself after my wife Germaine, taking the name of Comte de St. Germain. But I disappeared eventually. They never saw me eating anything, as I said I need special food. But in reality I had given up eating entirely. I remained young. I remained beautiful.
Please forgive me that I can not elaborate further at the moment. I would surely love to tell you what happened later. But as you see me writing here, you can be sure to receive the rest of my story. I have decided to break the curse at its 400th anniversary. I have seen empires rise and fall, I have seen my share of cruelty. But now, with the internet, with seeing the real horrors that humanity influcted, I believe I have seen enough. If I could go back in time, I would carry out all the failed attempts to change history. But I can't. I can only break this curse. Having lost everything once has made me someone looking for the ultimate truths. Have I found them?
Recently I stumbled upon what I had written many years ago. Maybe if all knowledge of the world was available, I would know it all.
I did not find the truth. I believe there is only one way to find it. Next year, at the 400th anniversary of the curse, I will know.
I hope it, at least. I really hope.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
“Wait. That’s the curse?”
“Yes. I understand you want this gone as quickly as possible. I am so sorry this happened. I’m going to need-“
“I- can you please repeat what exactly this does? I think I’m hearing this wrong.”
The witch before blinked in surprise at my response and cough and quickly averted her eyes. After a few awkward seconds she picks up a rather large, leather book. She carefully flips the old, delicate pages with great care until she stopped at a picture of an adventurer armed with a broad sword and a cheeky smile. I always loved reading stories, especially fantasy. It was a whole new world for me, I felt ever sorrows and laughs the characters felt. It was as if I was actually there. And I guess I am today. He looked so... alive. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and such passion within them! He must have been very happy.
The witch handed me this large story book of sorts and went to the cabinet, searching through vials of all sorts of unknown substances. Most looks like some herbs I had never seen but I noticed ones that contained purple hair, blood, dirt, moss, water, feathers, pebbles and some liquid that gave off a green glow in the cabinet’s darkness. *I really did travel to a new world, didn’t I?*
“I am so sorry but you are trapped here until we can reverse this curse. You can no longer go back to your old world. I know this may be tough but I will make sure to get you back to your family! This book entails another human, who just like you became trapped.”
I looked away and said nothing as my throat felt as though it was shut closed. Something clicked in the back of my throat as my eyes began to swell with tears. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Oh, dear. It’s okay! As long as you have that necklace you have hope to go back to your home. I promise you-“
I stopped listening all together at that point. A dark feeling that slowly took over my whole body and suddenly I snapped. I jerked my head up and tore off the cheap, plastic necklace from my neck. I didn’t care that it was ruined.
Actually, I decided I did. I stood up and tossed the necklace into the fire pit, watching the plastic fairy melt slowly into a puddle. I didn’t look at the witch but I could feel her eyes bore into me. I sat down in the floor and watched the flames for what seemed like hours until all that was left were a few burning embers.
How do I explain to her I had no home to go to? That the people who should love and protect me, never did. I have never felt safe in a home until I came into this world. I remembered the many faces I came to see in my time here and how kind and thoughtful they were. People gave me shelter, wisdom, new foods and so many wild adventures from just a few days. I actually felt happy. I had FRIENDS and I felt like I finally had a place I belonged.
Nobody hit me. Nobody called me names or pulled my hair.
The witch never said a thing to me that entire ordeal but finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.
“I am never going back. Never.”, I said firmly.
I finally looked up to see the witch’s wide eyes looking back at me. She gave me a sad smile and sat down next to me. She looked back into the once roaring fire pit and slowly nodded.
“Okay. No going back.”
After a short pause she took out a pair of silver keys with a decorative rose engraved on them. She clasped her hand over mine and gave me a sympathetic look. She gave a half hearted smile then looked back up at me.
“You’re welcome to stay in my home as long as you need. I was wondering if you wanted to help me run the shop, I can even teach you how to make any potion you want. Who knows? Maybe you can be an amazing witch one day.”
I grinned ear from ear and chuckled. She smiled back and leaned in.
“What do you say?”
“I’d like to. I’d love that a lot actually.”
|
So... What's the downside again?
That's all I could think, I may not have been in the best mental state right then, but really, how was this a bad thing?!
Three hours earlier...
A brand new bike, shiny and blue with not a mark on it. I hadn't owned a bike, since I was a child and I hadn't rode one in almost as long. This was going to be fun. Approaching my mid thirties I had grown a little thick around the middle and recovering from an ankle injury I needed a way of exercising that was low impact. My physiotherapist recommended getting a bike and so here we are.
It was nothing special but boy was I excited to get on the road; and so I did. I strapped my helmet on and set off into the country. I'm lucky that I live close to the countryside and as I began to pedal down roads I hadn't been down since I was a child memories came flooding back.
Carefree summer days, a backpack full of sweets and a bottle of fizzy pop to gorge on when we stopped. I thought about my friends from way back when. Rob had moved away, I think he was an architect in the city now. Andy owned a car dealership on the outskirts of town, but we didn't really see each other anymore. Steven died. That was a shock to us all, drugs can take ahold of anyone I suppose given the right circumstances.
As bittersweet as some of those memories were I was having a good time, up the hills I struggled, only to fly down the other side. I didn't see another soul for about an hour when I had to swerve to avoid a car. Those narrow country lanes aren't much wider than a modern car and I was lucky not to end up in the ditch at one side or the hedge at the other, or God forbid on through the cars windscreen.
I took it a little easier after that, I didn't remember my arse ever hurting this much from the seat when I was a kid. Just over an hour in the saddle and I felt like I'd been kicked up the arse a thousand times. I pulled over near a stream I remembered as a child. The place we used to eat our sweets and paddle in the shallow water. The trees were so much bigger now and the stream was all but dried up. Some things do change with time but I thought this little spot would forever remain like the picture in my mind.
It was peaceful though, just off the road but no cars passing, the gentle trickling sound of the water and the tweeting of unseen birds somewhere around in the trees. I couldn't relax though. I had a sip of water from my water bottle and prepared to get back on the bike. The trees which surrounded the clearing near the stream were so much taller and had so many more leaves that the whole area was in shadow. I wanted the sun on my back again. So off I went.
I didn't plan on going too much further, it was my first time on a bike in over 20 years and I didn't want to over do it so I thought I'd go a few more miles to the crossroads and turn back. If my backside was hurting now who knows how bad it would be when I got home.
I was approaching the cross roads when I noticed a little track I didn't remember from when I was a kid. It looked like it used to be a farm track but hadn't been maintained for years. Tall grass grew on both sides of the dirt path with potholes the size of dustbin lids and pieces of the dry stone wall fallen and not replaced. After twenty metres or so the track sloped down and it looked like it went down into the woods.
I wasn't going to go down it, I didn't know where it would lead but I fancied going off road. The man in the shop had explained that the bike was a hybrid, great for on the roads and also hitting the trails. All I had to do was turn a small lever on the front suspension and I was good to go. I hadn't tested it out yet so I thought why not.
I headed onto the track and hit the gradual slope, it was great fun dodging the potholes and avoiding the fallen dry stone walls. I was picking up speed and gaining in confidence when a black shadow shot across the track, straight into my front wheel. It knocked me off balance and I toppled off to the side, skidding as I went down I knocked my head on the ground.
The helmet probably saved my life. When I came too, it seemed like only seconds later, or maybe minutes. I couldn't be sure but I had the foggy head I'd had once before after a car accident. I don't think I was hurt any more than a few scrapes all down my right side. I bent my leg and pushed myself away from the bike ready to try and stand up. That's when I saw her.
Picture the witch from any children's fairy tale. Take away the pointy hat and replace it with some messy gray hair. That's pretty much what I saw. She did not look happy. She was dressed in a black dress or a skirt with a black jacket over the top then skinny hairless legs, short white socks and black shoes with buckles on them. She had a very wrinkled face a pointy nose with a wart on it.
My first thought after noticing her was that she was a witch. All rhyme and reason went out the window. This old woman was a witch, I just knew it. I noticed then as I stood she was holding something. A black cat nestled in her arms like a baby. She saw me look at the cat and looked down at it, then back at me. Any normal person would have asked if I was ok by now but she hadn't said a word.
As I brushed myself down and started to notice the pain down my sides where I had scratches and no doubt bruises already forming I asked, "What happened, did you see?"
"You hurt my child" she said in a voice that didn't fit her appearance. I honestly expected a cackle and a high pitched voice that matched the characters from the fairy tales. She sounded like my grandma. Calm and measured but with the hint of authority that meant you were in trouble.
"I'm sorry, I hurt who?" I said looking around whilst taking off my helmet.
"My child" she said looking down at the cat, that's when I remembered the shadow which had knocked me off my bike, it must have been the cat.
"I'm sorry, is it ok? It came out of nowhere, I didn't have time to stop, I didn't see it" I said.
"She. Not it. You hurt her. You should have looked where you were going and this is a private road, you shouldn't even be here." She said with increased authority.
I felt a dread coming over me, I could see now that the cat was breathing so it must still be alive.
"I'm sorry" I said again, "I didn't know, there was no sign to say I couldn't come down here and your cat, I didn't mean to hit it, I mean her, I just didn't see her."
"You may not have intended what you have done, but you did it all the same and now my child is hurt"
I found it creepy now that she referred to the cat as her child, it didn't really strike me before.
"I'll take you to the vet, I'll come back in my car and we can go into town to the vets, they can fix her up." I said hopefully with guilt starting to spread through me.
"A vet cannot fix this, only I can fix this and I will fix you too." she said without a trace of venom in her but with absolute clarity what she meant. I knew she didn't mean she would clean my wounds and give me an ice pack for my head. She wanted to hurt me.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I curse you. I place a hex upon you. You did not see what was going to happen. You can not see what you have done. You do not see how this will affect you. But you will. I curse you to see everything."
I was speechless. This old woman who I knew without a doubt through some sixth sense was a witch had just cursed me. Not one part of me thought she was crazy. I knew I was cursed. She was waiting. Waiting for me to say something.
"I'm sorry." I said again, almost pleading with her with those two words.
"You'll see." she said stroking the cat then she closed her eyes and moved her head up as though looking towards the sky. I looked up too but didn't see anything. When I brought my head down she was looking at me, she put the cat down and it ran off. I was thankful it seemed ok.
"From now on you will see everything, nothing will creep up on you, the shadows cannot conceal anything from your eyes.
"The intent of others will become apparent to you before they know it themselves. Never again will you repeat what you have done here today, for you will see what is about to happen before it does."
"What?" I said dumbfounded. "I can see the future?"
"In a sense. I curse you with the sight. You will see what you did not before. You will see what will come to be. And if you can, you can change it."
I knew what she said was true. I could see it. In my mind's eye I could see that this was no lie.
"So what's the downside?" I asked.
"You may not like what you see" she said.
I dodged my head to the right and a bird flew past where my head had been. It didn't make sense but I saw it happen before it happened and I was able to move my head to avoid getting hit. The bird circled around and landed on the witch's shoulder.
"Thank you my child for that demonstration."
It was starting to become clear. It was all unraveling in my head so fast. I knew what was happening. It didn't feel like a curse. I knew I could use this.
"You've cursed me, with a gift. I'm a cop and this, this sight you've given me. I can help people with it.
"So... What's the downside again?" I asked.
The old lady smiled, as she did so, she looked less like a witch and more like a regular old lady.
"Not all curses are bad, but you may not like all you see" and at that she turned to walk away. "This is a private road, please turn back." She said as she walked away.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
So... What's the downside again?
That's all I could think, I may not have been in the best mental state right then, but really, how was this a bad thing?!
Three hours earlier...
A brand new bike, shiny and blue with not a mark on it. I hadn't owned a bike, since I was a child and I hadn't rode one in almost as long. This was going to be fun. Approaching my mid thirties I had grown a little thick around the middle and recovering from an ankle injury I needed a way of exercising that was low impact. My physiotherapist recommended getting a bike and so here we are.
It was nothing special but boy was I excited to get on the road; and so I did. I strapped my helmet on and set off into the country. I'm lucky that I live close to the countryside and as I began to pedal down roads I hadn't been down since I was a child memories came flooding back.
Carefree summer days, a backpack full of sweets and a bottle of fizzy pop to gorge on when we stopped. I thought about my friends from way back when. Rob had moved away, I think he was an architect in the city now. Andy owned a car dealership on the outskirts of town, but we didn't really see each other anymore. Steven died. That was a shock to us all, drugs can take ahold of anyone I suppose given the right circumstances.
As bittersweet as some of those memories were I was having a good time, up the hills I struggled, only to fly down the other side. I didn't see another soul for about an hour when I had to swerve to avoid a car. Those narrow country lanes aren't much wider than a modern car and I was lucky not to end up in the ditch at one side or the hedge at the other, or God forbid on through the cars windscreen.
I took it a little easier after that, I didn't remember my arse ever hurting this much from the seat when I was a kid. Just over an hour in the saddle and I felt like I'd been kicked up the arse a thousand times. I pulled over near a stream I remembered as a child. The place we used to eat our sweets and paddle in the shallow water. The trees were so much bigger now and the stream was all but dried up. Some things do change with time but I thought this little spot would forever remain like the picture in my mind.
It was peaceful though, just off the road but no cars passing, the gentle trickling sound of the water and the tweeting of unseen birds somewhere around in the trees. I couldn't relax though. I had a sip of water from my water bottle and prepared to get back on the bike. The trees which surrounded the clearing near the stream were so much taller and had so many more leaves that the whole area was in shadow. I wanted the sun on my back again. So off I went.
I didn't plan on going too much further, it was my first time on a bike in over 20 years and I didn't want to over do it so I thought I'd go a few more miles to the crossroads and turn back. If my backside was hurting now who knows how bad it would be when I got home.
I was approaching the cross roads when I noticed a little track I didn't remember from when I was a kid. It looked like it used to be a farm track but hadn't been maintained for years. Tall grass grew on both sides of the dirt path with potholes the size of dustbin lids and pieces of the dry stone wall fallen and not replaced. After twenty metres or so the track sloped down and it looked like it went down into the woods.
I wasn't going to go down it, I didn't know where it would lead but I fancied going off road. The man in the shop had explained that the bike was a hybrid, great for on the roads and also hitting the trails. All I had to do was turn a small lever on the front suspension and I was good to go. I hadn't tested it out yet so I thought why not.
I headed onto the track and hit the gradual slope, it was great fun dodging the potholes and avoiding the fallen dry stone walls. I was picking up speed and gaining in confidence when a black shadow shot across the track, straight into my front wheel. It knocked me off balance and I toppled off to the side, skidding as I went down I knocked my head on the ground.
The helmet probably saved my life. When I came too, it seemed like only seconds later, or maybe minutes. I couldn't be sure but I had the foggy head I'd had once before after a car accident. I don't think I was hurt any more than a few scrapes all down my right side. I bent my leg and pushed myself away from the bike ready to try and stand up. That's when I saw her.
Picture the witch from any children's fairy tale. Take away the pointy hat and replace it with some messy gray hair. That's pretty much what I saw. She did not look happy. She was dressed in a black dress or a skirt with a black jacket over the top then skinny hairless legs, short white socks and black shoes with buckles on them. She had a very wrinkled face a pointy nose with a wart on it.
My first thought after noticing her was that she was a witch. All rhyme and reason went out the window. This old woman was a witch, I just knew it. I noticed then as I stood she was holding something. A black cat nestled in her arms like a baby. She saw me look at the cat and looked down at it, then back at me. Any normal person would have asked if I was ok by now but she hadn't said a word.
As I brushed myself down and started to notice the pain down my sides where I had scratches and no doubt bruises already forming I asked, "What happened, did you see?"
"You hurt my child" she said in a voice that didn't fit her appearance. I honestly expected a cackle and a high pitched voice that matched the characters from the fairy tales. She sounded like my grandma. Calm and measured but with the hint of authority that meant you were in trouble.
"I'm sorry, I hurt who?" I said looking around whilst taking off my helmet.
"My child" she said looking down at the cat, that's when I remembered the shadow which had knocked me off my bike, it must have been the cat.
"I'm sorry, is it ok? It came out of nowhere, I didn't have time to stop, I didn't see it" I said.
"She. Not it. You hurt her. You should have looked where you were going and this is a private road, you shouldn't even be here." She said with increased authority.
I felt a dread coming over me, I could see now that the cat was breathing so it must still be alive.
"I'm sorry" I said again, "I didn't know, there was no sign to say I couldn't come down here and your cat, I didn't mean to hit it, I mean her, I just didn't see her."
"You may not have intended what you have done, but you did it all the same and now my child is hurt"
I found it creepy now that she referred to the cat as her child, it didn't really strike me before.
"I'll take you to the vet, I'll come back in my car and we can go into town to the vets, they can fix her up." I said hopefully with guilt starting to spread through me.
"A vet cannot fix this, only I can fix this and I will fix you too." she said without a trace of venom in her but with absolute clarity what she meant. I knew she didn't mean she would clean my wounds and give me an ice pack for my head. She wanted to hurt me.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
"I curse you. I place a hex upon you. You did not see what was going to happen. You can not see what you have done. You do not see how this will affect you. But you will. I curse you to see everything."
I was speechless. This old woman who I knew without a doubt through some sixth sense was a witch had just cursed me. Not one part of me thought she was crazy. I knew I was cursed. She was waiting. Waiting for me to say something.
"I'm sorry." I said again, almost pleading with her with those two words.
"You'll see." she said stroking the cat then she closed her eyes and moved her head up as though looking towards the sky. I looked up too but didn't see anything. When I brought my head down she was looking at me, she put the cat down and it ran off. I was thankful it seemed ok.
"From now on you will see everything, nothing will creep up on you, the shadows cannot conceal anything from your eyes.
"The intent of others will become apparent to you before they know it themselves. Never again will you repeat what you have done here today, for you will see what is about to happen before it does."
"What?" I said dumbfounded. "I can see the future?"
"In a sense. I curse you with the sight. You will see what you did not before. You will see what will come to be. And if you can, you can change it."
I knew what she said was true. I could see it. In my mind's eye I could see that this was no lie.
"So what's the downside?" I asked.
"You may not like what you see" she said.
I dodged my head to the right and a bird flew past where my head had been. It didn't make sense but I saw it happen before it happened and I was able to move my head to avoid getting hit. The bird circled around and landed on the witch's shoulder.
"Thank you my child for that demonstration."
It was starting to become clear. It was all unraveling in my head so fast. I knew what was happening. It didn't feel like a curse. I knew I could use this.
"You've cursed me, with a gift. I'm a cop and this, this sight you've given me. I can help people with it.
"So... What's the downside again?" I asked.
The old lady smiled, as she did so, she looked less like a witch and more like a regular old lady.
"Not all curses are bad, but you may not like all you see" and at that she turned to walk away. "This is a private road, please turn back." She said as she walked away.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
“Wait. That’s the curse?”
“Yes. I understand you want this gone as quickly as possible. I am so sorry this happened. I’m going to need-“
“I- can you please repeat what exactly this does? I think I’m hearing this wrong.”
The witch before blinked in surprise at my response and cough and quickly averted her eyes. After a few awkward seconds she picks up a rather large, leather book. She carefully flips the old, delicate pages with great care until she stopped at a picture of an adventurer armed with a broad sword and a cheeky smile. I always loved reading stories, especially fantasy. It was a whole new world for me, I felt ever sorrows and laughs the characters felt. It was as if I was actually there. And I guess I am today. He looked so... alive. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and such passion within them! He must have been very happy.
The witch handed me this large story book of sorts and went to the cabinet, searching through vials of all sorts of unknown substances. Most looks like some herbs I had never seen but I noticed ones that contained purple hair, blood, dirt, moss, water, feathers, pebbles and some liquid that gave off a green glow in the cabinet’s darkness. *I really did travel to a new world, didn’t I?*
“I am so sorry but you are trapped here until we can reverse this curse. You can no longer go back to your old world. I know this may be tough but I will make sure to get you back to your family! This book entails another human, who just like you became trapped.”
I looked away and said nothing as my throat felt as though it was shut closed. Something clicked in the back of my throat as my eyes began to swell with tears. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Oh, dear. It’s okay! As long as you have that necklace you have hope to go back to your home. I promise you-“
I stopped listening all together at that point. A dark feeling that slowly took over my whole body and suddenly I snapped. I jerked my head up and tore off the cheap, plastic necklace from my neck. I didn’t care that it was ruined.
Actually, I decided I did. I stood up and tossed the necklace into the fire pit, watching the plastic fairy melt slowly into a puddle. I didn’t look at the witch but I could feel her eyes bore into me. I sat down in the floor and watched the flames for what seemed like hours until all that was left were a few burning embers.
How do I explain to her I had no home to go to? That the people who should love and protect me, never did. I have never felt safe in a home until I came into this world. I remembered the many faces I came to see in my time here and how kind and thoughtful they were. People gave me shelter, wisdom, new foods and so many wild adventures from just a few days. I actually felt happy. I had FRIENDS and I felt like I finally had a place I belonged.
Nobody hit me. Nobody called me names or pulled my hair.
The witch never said a thing to me that entire ordeal but finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.
“I am never going back. Never.”, I said firmly.
I finally looked up to see the witch’s wide eyes looking back at me. She gave me a sad smile and sat down next to me. She looked back into the once roaring fire pit and slowly nodded.
“Okay. No going back.”
After a short pause she took out a pair of silver keys with a decorative rose engraved on them. She clasped her hand over mine and gave me a sympathetic look. She gave a half hearted smile then looked back up at me.
“You’re welcome to stay in my home as long as you need. I was wondering if you wanted to help me run the shop, I can even teach you how to make any potion you want. Who knows? Maybe you can be an amazing witch one day.”
I grinned ear from ear and chuckled. She smiled back and leaned in.
“What do you say?”
“I’d like to. I’d love that a lot actually.”
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
You blink once. And twice. You look at the beautiful and alluring woman in front of you in confusion. Certainly you must have heard it all wrong.
“So... what’s the downside again?”
The woman in question smiles at you, and once again you feel fear. You couldn’t pinpoint what was unsettling about her smile, but it made you shiver. And that made you remember that she wasn’t your typical woman in a bar. She was someone – no, *something* – that came straight out of a fairytale. Or a nightmare to be more precise.
“Your innocence will be your downfall. If you don’t see the problem in what I said, child, then you’re more doomed then what I presumed”, and with that, she raised herself from her place and was making her way for the exit.
“Wait!”, you scream, reaching out to grab the woman’s wrist. That was your second mistake of the night, and you realized that when the witch looked you in the eyes and you felt the power of her hatred for you, “please, I didn’t understand what you said, I-”
“You said it yourself, sweetheart: love is the most stupid thing that one can feel, and sex is one of the few things that makes life worth living. So that’s what I wish upon you: you will have the most amazing sex in this world with every man and woman you desire, they will leave your bed thinking of you in the years to come, but none of them will be able to love you back. And the one that you love, well…”, she touched your face with that same smile – so innocent, so evil – while she got even closer to you, breaking your personal space, “you just have to wait and see how your love treat them back.”
The witch then kissed you right in the lips. Nothing obscene or too long, just a peck. You closed your eyes, even though you were mortified, and when you opened them, she was gone.
​
X
​
“I told you, I wasn’t high or anything like that! It was real!”, you said to your roommate for the hundredth times.
“Okay, so you *really* want me to believe that a witch talked to you at Joe’s, you guys started talking about hooking up and she dropped a curse on you? Like… are you listening to yourself?”
“I still don’t see the point in the whole thing”, you nervously laughed, “like, if she really wanted me to suffer throwing a curse, maybe she should have made sex something horrible for me? That would really be fucked up.”
“Or maybe she just wanted to teach you a lesson”, said Lisa.
“Yeah, maybe”, you agreed, still remembering the woman’s eyes on yours and shivering right away, “We’ll never know.”
​
X
​
You never cared much about love.
You grew up in a family divided by an amicable divorce. No cheating or anything of the sorts. Your parents just grew apart from one another, and you, being an only child, saw by yourself how distant and stranger-like your parents became. And from a young age you understood that’s just how life works. People get together, enjoy their time and then go away. The sooner you understood this, the less hurtful it became, until you got to a point where it isn’t hurtful anymore. Actually, it’s quite expected. No problems with that.
That thought just got stronger and stronger with the passing of years. Both of your parents had their fair share of romantic partners, but the ending was the same: break ups. A few years ago your father married another woman, and even from afar you could see that relationship was a sinking ship. There wasn’t love, they endured each other and didn’t want to die alone. That was the sad part of it all; not accepting that solitude is a gift.
You and your mother were more alike. She threw herself into work after the divorce. She’s a business woman and doesn’t want to lose time with men who can’t keep up with what she needs and wants. Most of her relationships don’t last more than six months, but she’s ruthless in business and burst with self-confidence. Whenever you two talk, she never complains about being alone for too long or being afraid of not finding someone worth it. And when confronted about how fast things end, she always says “I already spent too much time in a loveless marriage, and I won’t settle for scraps”.
You were comfortable being alone. It was something that you were always used to be. You didn’t have many friends growing up and seeing the nature of your parents’ relationship and how the world worked, you just got used to the idea that love is something for fairytales and movies. Yes, it is beautiful, the thought of someone loving you so selflessly, wishing your happiness above their own selfish desires, but it wasn’t real. And when puberty came, you realized something that was far, far better than that childish feeling: sex. And orgasms, of course.
You were always honest with your partners. You weren’t looking for love, you didn’t want them to call you back or send you messages to know if you were okay.
You just want sex. Period. Good old sex. Nothing more.
The weeks passed and the thought of the curse being real kept eating you alive, but everything was fine. No, everything was perfect. It was everything you wished and more.
But she didn’t bless you with a wish. She cursed you, and a curse shouldn’t feel this good.
​
X
​
It all changed when she appeared. Her name was Carina, and you two got closer and closer by the days. Contrary to your beliefs, you didn’t jump to sex right away. She has never been with another woman before, and said her attraction for you made her extremely confused at first. Both of you took your time to discover each other’s bodies. You would kiss and then just sleep together, and you would be contempt with that. Just being around Carina felt good. You liked being with her and wanted to share more and more of your life with her.
Naturally things progressed and sex became part of your encounters. Like always, it felt amazing, but there was something more. There was something more being shared between you two that made everything better. Made everything fuller. And afterwards, having her on your arms, whispering silly things on your ears while laughing post-orgasm was one of the best sights you have ever seen.
You wanted that woman so much it’s scary. The curse was always lurking around in the back of your head during those moments, but it’s been so long you barely remember the words from the witch. If it ever had a witch. You certainly drank a few that night.
Until Carina became sick.
At first it was just complaining about how you left her so tired she didn’t want to move away from the bed. Both of you actually laughed from that, because the sex was always incredibly good. After the headaches. And then one time you were cuddling in bed, feeling her body against yours, when she abruptly ran to the bathroom and started vomiting. You didn’t think much about it, thought maybe she ate something bad, until it became a norm right after sex.
From there it became worse. She stopped having sex with you and went to two doctors trying to figure out what was happening to her. Nothing was wrong with her, nothing in her food was making her have that kind of reaction. She distanced herself from you when she realized that even being in the same room with you made her sick.
You were always by her side, supporting her with everything you could do, and it hurt *so*, *so bad* when she called you on that faithful Thursday afternoon.
“I-I’m sorry”, Carina said through sobs, “but I can’t do this anymore.”
“Shh, it’s okay, we will figure it out”, you said back, trying to contain your emotions.
“No, you don’t understand! I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be with you, I’m sorry!”
“Carina, wait, I-”, you said while listening to her crying, “I love you.”
She took some time before turning off the phone, and sound of her silence haunted you.
You were all alone.
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
These fools, the Witch thought to herself as she perfected the final touches on her new spell. It didn’t matter how many she killed, didn’t matter how violent and gruesome the death she prepared for them was. It had been hundreds of years and still they would come seeking glory in the face of death, accepting either. They would become martyrs or heroes to their own kind, be written into history for their acts of valour. Be remembered. Leave loved ones behind with stories to tell and rejoice.
Even the scum among them could rise in the act of a valiant death, and she’d seen plenty. It gave them and those around them meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless life. They would endlessly toil, the masses against the few, campaigning to correct the balance of power, finding kinship and community in their actions. It made her sick.
The spell was ready, and so she turned her attention back to the two ‘heroes’ who knelt before her. They had fought bravely against her minions, slaying many, only for the effects of poisons and dark magic to leave them bowed before her, dying. They had nothing left, so few did.
The more powerful of the two was ready for death. She’d seen the look a thousand times, could guess his back story without peering into his mind. A family, once, all lost to him now. All he wished for was a heroic death to depart this world on his own terms, and be with them once more, his name to live on.
The other, the weaker of the two, was scared. His eyes darted between her and the hounds at her side, contemplating the method of death that would surely come at any moment. She let him squirm for a while longer before speaking.
“The punishment that I will exact upon you tonight my esteemed guests, is one that has been centuries in the making. I have pondered many a moon about the most cunning and despairing way to ruin everything that gives you and your kind purpose”
“Just get on with it , you vile demon”, the stronger of the two spoke between swollen gums and clenched teeth.
“Oh I will I assure you, but relax, you have all the time in the world…”. She flashed a beautiful smile at him, her crimson eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
She stood and glided majestically over from her throne to stand between the men, her dark purple gown flowing behind her. The hounds stayed, eyes forward, unflinching.
She touched a flawlessly pearl-white hand to each man’s forehead, summoned her powers and incanted the spell. A gust of wind blew through her lair as the words echoed. Flames danced and her eyes glowed with each sound. After only a few moments, she stopped, let out a deep sigh and returned to her throne. It had been done.
Trembling, the scared man spoke first “ W..W..What did you do to us?”, he said, as he checked himself over, patting down his armour and feeling his face.
Slowly, their wounds began to heal, vibrant colours returning to their faces. They stood, looking at each other, mouths agape, utterly confused.
“You will never die. You will never be hurt. You will have the strength of a sea of men or more”
“So, what’s the downside again?” the scared man said, almost smiling, disbelieving.
“You will have no purpose in life, and your very presence will suck the meaning out of the lives of those around you. You will watch all of your loved ones die, never to be reunited on the other side” she replied , staying at the proud and strong man. His eyes gave her all the satisfaction she needed. He raised a hand, beginning to speak , but with a click of her fingers, they were gone. Her work was done.
“Now , my beautiful beasts, we sit back and watch. This will be most entertaining”
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"What?"
"I asked what the downside is."
"I've just told you."
"No you haven't."
"Yes, I have."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Then why don't I remember?"
My ears seemed to fill with cotton, and I grew dizzy as she spoke once more.
"That ought to teach you lesson."
I blinked. "Sorry what was the curse again?"
The woman unleashed an ear rending shriek and slammed the door in my face.
"Ah kay then." I spun and walked out toward the gate. A sudden flash of deja-vu struck me as I touched the handle.
Oh yeah, I meant to ask her something.
I turned around once more, and knocked on the door.
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"I see your plumpness." She crowed. "Oh yes, very wealthy you must be to afford so much food. I'm sure your resounding footsteps set all the ladies a quiver. With this spell, you shall shed your fat. No matter how much you eat you'll not gain it back."
I glanced down at my plump form. It was true, I was heavy, even approaching the fabled "dummy thicc". I'd been trying all sorts of diets, but their gallant efforts were crushed beneath my inexhaustible love of dessert. I sighed.
The witch didn't look the part at all. She was old, sure, elderly even, and she did wear a pointy hat, but the stereotype ended there. She wore thick bifocals and walked with the aid of a walker, complete with little tennis balls on the front. She wore a pastel bath robe over a t-shirt with a kitten hanging from a tree branch, words beneath read "hang in there". Her legs wobbled as she stood.
"I... I don't know what to say. Being fat hasn't been a status symbol in a long, long time. I've been trying to lose weight, actually."
"Oh, I know, deary." She said with a kind smile. "I'm an old witch, though, and all I know is curses, and you're such a nice young man. Now would you care for a treat? The cookies are nearly done."
"I probably shouldn't..." I said, reluctantly.
"Now listen here, I can bottle dreams and brew love, I think I can find my way around some chocolate chips." She began to shuffle back to the kitchen. "It's not like you're going to get any fatter."
I obliged and followed her into the small kitchen, wincing at the peeling linoleum. She fumbled with an oven mitt for a moment. "Do you need help with that?"
The oven door opened and the smell of cookies came wafting out. "I can manage." She said, setting the cookie sheet down across a pair of burners, which wobbled.
I took a brief glance at my surroundings. The house was in a sorry state. The paint was flaking, the window sat crooked. "I'm not really busy this weekend. Maybe I could come over and help you fix up the place?"
"You do something like that you're likely to get a powerful curse coming your way. I've got a few I learned in Egypt a long time ago. Horrible, terrible things."
"Like boils and fever and bad dreams?" I asked, leaning over the dingy little table and accepting a steaming mug of something that the witch slid my way.
"Oh that's kid stuff. I'm thinking more biblical. Maybe from Ezekiel 23." She grinned but I didn't get the reference, and her grin faded as she dropped a lump of sugar into her mug and stirred. "Oh, folks in those days had the strangest idea of what a curse was."
Edit: This was rapidly going nowhere and I didn't want to scrap it and I had a better idea for a much shorter response, which I'll write now.
She cackled. "My most powerful curse! A curse that cannot be undone! I curse you with long life! So that you may watch as your children as I write their destiny. Great your works may be, but they shall pale in comparison to your children, which shall likewise pale in comparison to the works of your children's children. Generation after generation their success will grow until all your work, all you've accomplished will be forgotten beneath their fully realized potential!" She cackled, a hideous sound that slowly faded.
"I... Thank you!" I shouted. That's all any parent wanted, right? For their kids to do better than them.
The witch deflated, then turned around slowly, mumbling "well I don't know what I did wrong that really upset the pharaoh last time I did it."
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"So.. What's the downside again?"
*The witch looks back at me, as I ask the simple question*
"Yes... You'll never find a girl you love EVER again. " *she says, she was having fun at this wasn't she?*
".. I mean, I did call you ugly, and this is what your giving me".
"oh Hohoh. You are one of those edgy types , the kind who want to be a loner. Still still your wrong. There is no way a boy like you will be without a girl. All boys find a wife, they marry. Or they die alooonee. AND YOU WILL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND. AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. "
*I stare back at her* "how.. How old are you exactly?"
*She blushes and then says.* "That's none of your business, I bet you'll say 'you don't look a day over 24' well surprise I'm 300"
*I was gonna say you look like a 1000. The age checks out however. Oh you poor poor soul.*
"well, now that I am cursed. I'm gonna leave you"
*The witch laughed*
"when you want to revert, remember.. I'll be waiting for you, right here... "
*I didn't hear the rest. She's just so old, well I'll never be coming back here again.*
*Time passes, eventually I do meet someone. The witch as angry as she was, made sure that no girl would be romantically involved with me. Some dark vodoo magic I suppose.*
*Still, it hasn't bothered me one bit. As I sit at a table, I look at the door with expectations. It's the first time I've spent effort into setting up a date.*
"Sir, are you sure you want to stay? Your date has taken quite a bit of time"
*Times like this make you impatient. I wanted to shout at the guy, and would have too, if it wasn't for the door opening.*
*That's when I saw my soul mate. It wasn't a girl. It was never a girl, no. It was always a boy*
*My name is Christopher Rodriguez. And I'm gay. *
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
It was one of those stupid accidents where your carrier bag splits and drops, in this case, a giant jar of pickled onions, and it rolls off and you go chasing it, in this case, into a witch's garden just in time to see it knock over some onion plants.
I mean, it's a small accident, but not a massive disaster. If she was really cross, a few pounds to cover the cost and inconvenience of buying onions?
But nooooooo. The woman who came out was three quarters made of malice I could feel even before she began screaming about my (epithet) legs on her (something) sacred ground or what not, like she's Hera and I'm trying to explain that it was all the swan's idea in the first place.
"...and for this defilement of my sacred ground, I curse you! In my name I curse you! I curse you to be barren. I curse your womb to shrivel. I curse you to a life without children."
I blinked. "So... what's the downside again?"
"No child born of your blood will ever be cradled in your arms," she said, pronouncing my doom with ghastly enjoyment.
"Oh, oh no, that's just terrible," I said, playing along. "All this over some onions?"
Well, that was a mistake. She was loud, and to be honest, rather unpleasantly scary in a manic frightening way, although that wasn't as scary as realising that some of her plants were staring at me, and blinking. Or the way a garden gnome, top hat and dinky little sword and red eyes and all, was sniggering. The gist of it was that it was her garden, those were her onions and I wasn't supposed to be there, which, given writhing tendrils of what was definitely *not* white jasmine, I had to agree with.
I backed away, step by step and left, alive, to have the blackthorn hedge slam shut in my face, only just missing slicing my nose, and there was no sign there had ever been a garden there.
Behind me was the mess I'd just left, including oozy cracked eggs. I picked up what I could, with somewhat shaky hands, and didn't really think about what I was doing until I was back at home drinking tea.
Barren. *Fifteen* times I'd tried to ask about having my tubes tied, but no, it was always 'you might change your mind' and at twenty-eight I was pretty damned sure that no I would not. So I'd prayed, with all due pagan ritual, just basically hoping for confidence, and then had a strong urge to have a nice cheese ploughmans and do myself a proper breakfast in the morning.
Of course, by the next day, I was sure it was a dream, and went to seek a sixteenth opinion upon fertility, mine, and the lack of desire to have it, but a few weeks later and gosh if there isn't a little plant growing near the garden path with tiny little blinky eyes and everything.
Anyway, twenty-first time was the charm, which was when I found out that my womb had somehow eaten itself and left a lump of scar tissue, and if there *is* a downside, I haven't yet found it. I mean other than the fact that most people are too creeped out to come into the garden, even if the blinking, staring plant usually hides. It's as if they know it's there.
I do look after it, and grow plants that give me a reason to be out looking after the place, and really, if someone came in there now, I'd actually be quite cross. I mean, really, that magical plant is pretty much a gift from the gods, isn't it. That makes my garden almost... sacred.
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The woman stood in my doorway, looking aghast. "You have NO sugar?" She demands, having just requested a cup.
​
I shrug. I'm on a diet. "I have some granular sugar replacement." I offer. The woman's beautiful face melts away into an old and warty visage. She points a gnarled finger at me.
​
Fuck, a witch. I thought I lived in a better neighborhood...
​
"You will never feel love or attraction to another person again!" The witch said, the smile on her face as nasty as her crooked teeth.
​
I blinked. Waited. Waited some more.
​
"So... what was the downside again?"
​
The witch paused and looked confused. "You will never feel love or attraction to another human again?" This time it was a question.
​
"Bitch, I was already asexual."
​
I'm not sure what annoyed me more. Having to meet my neighbor or having to explain asexuality for the billionth time.
​
Alternatively: "Bitch, I'm a furry."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
“Wait. That’s the curse?”
“Yes. I understand you want this gone as quickly as possible. I am so sorry this happened. I’m going to need-“
“I- can you please repeat what exactly this does? I think I’m hearing this wrong.”
The witch before blinked in surprise at my response and cough and quickly averted her eyes. After a few awkward seconds she picks up a rather large, leather book. She carefully flips the old, delicate pages with great care until she stopped at a picture of an adventurer armed with a broad sword and a cheeky smile. I always loved reading stories, especially fantasy. It was a whole new world for me, I felt ever sorrows and laughs the characters felt. It was as if I was actually there. And I guess I am today. He looked so... alive. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and such passion within them! He must have been very happy.
The witch handed me this large story book of sorts and went to the cabinet, searching through vials of all sorts of unknown substances. Most looks like some herbs I had never seen but I noticed ones that contained purple hair, blood, dirt, moss, water, feathers, pebbles and some liquid that gave off a green glow in the cabinet’s darkness. *I really did travel to a new world, didn’t I?*
“I am so sorry but you are trapped here until we can reverse this curse. You can no longer go back to your old world. I know this may be tough but I will make sure to get you back to your family! This book entails another human, who just like you became trapped.”
I looked away and said nothing as my throat felt as though it was shut closed. Something clicked in the back of my throat as my eyes began to swell with tears. I didn’t bother looking up.
“Oh, dear. It’s okay! As long as you have that necklace you have hope to go back to your home. I promise you-“
I stopped listening all together at that point. A dark feeling that slowly took over my whole body and suddenly I snapped. I jerked my head up and tore off the cheap, plastic necklace from my neck. I didn’t care that it was ruined.
Actually, I decided I did. I stood up and tossed the necklace into the fire pit, watching the plastic fairy melt slowly into a puddle. I didn’t look at the witch but I could feel her eyes bore into me. I sat down in the floor and watched the flames for what seemed like hours until all that was left were a few burning embers.
How do I explain to her I had no home to go to? That the people who should love and protect me, never did. I have never felt safe in a home until I came into this world. I remembered the many faces I came to see in my time here and how kind and thoughtful they were. People gave me shelter, wisdom, new foods and so many wild adventures from just a few days. I actually felt happy. I had FRIENDS and I felt like I finally had a place I belonged.
Nobody hit me. Nobody called me names or pulled my hair.
The witch never said a thing to me that entire ordeal but finally spoke in a much softer tone than before.
“I am never going back. Never.”, I said firmly.
I finally looked up to see the witch’s wide eyes looking back at me. She gave me a sad smile and sat down next to me. She looked back into the once roaring fire pit and slowly nodded.
“Okay. No going back.”
After a short pause she took out a pair of silver keys with a decorative rose engraved on them. She clasped her hand over mine and gave me a sympathetic look. She gave a half hearted smile then looked back up at me.
“You’re welcome to stay in my home as long as you need. I was wondering if you wanted to help me run the shop, I can even teach you how to make any potion you want. Who knows? Maybe you can be an amazing witch one day.”
I grinned ear from ear and chuckled. She smiled back and leaned in.
“What do you say?”
“I’d like to. I’d love that a lot actually.”
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
You blink once. And twice. You look at the beautiful and alluring woman in front of you in confusion. Certainly you must have heard it all wrong.
“So... what’s the downside again?”
The woman in question smiles at you, and once again you feel fear. You couldn’t pinpoint what was unsettling about her smile, but it made you shiver. And that made you remember that she wasn’t your typical woman in a bar. She was someone – no, *something* – that came straight out of a fairytale. Or a nightmare to be more precise.
“Your innocence will be your downfall. If you don’t see the problem in what I said, child, then you’re more doomed then what I presumed”, and with that, she raised herself from her place and was making her way for the exit.
“Wait!”, you scream, reaching out to grab the woman’s wrist. That was your second mistake of the night, and you realized that when the witch looked you in the eyes and you felt the power of her hatred for you, “please, I didn’t understand what you said, I-”
“You said it yourself, sweetheart: love is the most stupid thing that one can feel, and sex is one of the few things that makes life worth living. So that’s what I wish upon you: you will have the most amazing sex in this world with every man and woman you desire, they will leave your bed thinking of you in the years to come, but none of them will be able to love you back. And the one that you love, well…”, she touched your face with that same smile – so innocent, so evil – while she got even closer to you, breaking your personal space, “you just have to wait and see how your love treat them back.”
The witch then kissed you right in the lips. Nothing obscene or too long, just a peck. You closed your eyes, even though you were mortified, and when you opened them, she was gone.
​
X
​
“I told you, I wasn’t high or anything like that! It was real!”, you said to your roommate for the hundredth times.
“Okay, so you *really* want me to believe that a witch talked to you at Joe’s, you guys started talking about hooking up and she dropped a curse on you? Like… are you listening to yourself?”
“I still don’t see the point in the whole thing”, you nervously laughed, “like, if she really wanted me to suffer throwing a curse, maybe she should have made sex something horrible for me? That would really be fucked up.”
“Or maybe she just wanted to teach you a lesson”, said Lisa.
“Yeah, maybe”, you agreed, still remembering the woman’s eyes on yours and shivering right away, “We’ll never know.”
​
X
​
You never cared much about love.
You grew up in a family divided by an amicable divorce. No cheating or anything of the sorts. Your parents just grew apart from one another, and you, being an only child, saw by yourself how distant and stranger-like your parents became. And from a young age you understood that’s just how life works. People get together, enjoy their time and then go away. The sooner you understood this, the less hurtful it became, until you got to a point where it isn’t hurtful anymore. Actually, it’s quite expected. No problems with that.
That thought just got stronger and stronger with the passing of years. Both of your parents had their fair share of romantic partners, but the ending was the same: break ups. A few years ago your father married another woman, and even from afar you could see that relationship was a sinking ship. There wasn’t love, they endured each other and didn’t want to die alone. That was the sad part of it all; not accepting that solitude is a gift.
You and your mother were more alike. She threw herself into work after the divorce. She’s a business woman and doesn’t want to lose time with men who can’t keep up with what she needs and wants. Most of her relationships don’t last more than six months, but she’s ruthless in business and burst with self-confidence. Whenever you two talk, she never complains about being alone for too long or being afraid of not finding someone worth it. And when confronted about how fast things end, she always says “I already spent too much time in a loveless marriage, and I won’t settle for scraps”.
You were comfortable being alone. It was something that you were always used to be. You didn’t have many friends growing up and seeing the nature of your parents’ relationship and how the world worked, you just got used to the idea that love is something for fairytales and movies. Yes, it is beautiful, the thought of someone loving you so selflessly, wishing your happiness above their own selfish desires, but it wasn’t real. And when puberty came, you realized something that was far, far better than that childish feeling: sex. And orgasms, of course.
You were always honest with your partners. You weren’t looking for love, you didn’t want them to call you back or send you messages to know if you were okay.
You just want sex. Period. Good old sex. Nothing more.
The weeks passed and the thought of the curse being real kept eating you alive, but everything was fine. No, everything was perfect. It was everything you wished and more.
But she didn’t bless you with a wish. She cursed you, and a curse shouldn’t feel this good.
​
X
​
It all changed when she appeared. Her name was Carina, and you two got closer and closer by the days. Contrary to your beliefs, you didn’t jump to sex right away. She has never been with another woman before, and said her attraction for you made her extremely confused at first. Both of you took your time to discover each other’s bodies. You would kiss and then just sleep together, and you would be contempt with that. Just being around Carina felt good. You liked being with her and wanted to share more and more of your life with her.
Naturally things progressed and sex became part of your encounters. Like always, it felt amazing, but there was something more. There was something more being shared between you two that made everything better. Made everything fuller. And afterwards, having her on your arms, whispering silly things on your ears while laughing post-orgasm was one of the best sights you have ever seen.
You wanted that woman so much it’s scary. The curse was always lurking around in the back of your head during those moments, but it’s been so long you barely remember the words from the witch. If it ever had a witch. You certainly drank a few that night.
Until Carina became sick.
At first it was just complaining about how you left her so tired she didn’t want to move away from the bed. Both of you actually laughed from that, because the sex was always incredibly good. After the headaches. And then one time you were cuddling in bed, feeling her body against yours, when she abruptly ran to the bathroom and started vomiting. You didn’t think much about it, thought maybe she ate something bad, until it became a norm right after sex.
From there it became worse. She stopped having sex with you and went to two doctors trying to figure out what was happening to her. Nothing was wrong with her, nothing in her food was making her have that kind of reaction. She distanced herself from you when she realized that even being in the same room with you made her sick.
You were always by her side, supporting her with everything you could do, and it hurt *so*, *so bad* when she called you on that faithful Thursday afternoon.
“I-I’m sorry”, Carina said through sobs, “but I can’t do this anymore.”
“Shh, it’s okay, we will figure it out”, you said back, trying to contain your emotions.
“No, you don’t understand! I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be with you, I’m sorry!”
“Carina, wait, I-”, you said while listening to her crying, “I love you.”
She took some time before turning off the phone, and sound of her silence haunted you.
You were all alone.
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"What?"
"I asked what the downside is."
"I've just told you."
"No you haven't."
"Yes, I have."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Then why don't I remember?"
My ears seemed to fill with cotton, and I grew dizzy as she spoke once more.
"That ought to teach you lesson."
I blinked. "Sorry what was the curse again?"
The woman unleashed an ear rending shriek and slammed the door in my face.
"Ah kay then." I spun and walked out toward the gate. A sudden flash of deja-vu struck me as I touched the handle.
Oh yeah, I meant to ask her something.
I turned around once more, and knocked on the door.
|
These fools, the Witch thought to herself as she perfected the final touches on her new spell. It didn’t matter how many she killed, didn’t matter how violent and gruesome the death she prepared for them was. It had been hundreds of years and still they would come seeking glory in the face of death, accepting either. They would become martyrs or heroes to their own kind, be written into history for their acts of valour. Be remembered. Leave loved ones behind with stories to tell and rejoice.
Even the scum among them could rise in the act of a valiant death, and she’d seen plenty. It gave them and those around them meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless life. They would endlessly toil, the masses against the few, campaigning to correct the balance of power, finding kinship and community in their actions. It made her sick.
The spell was ready, and so she turned her attention back to the two ‘heroes’ who knelt before her. They had fought bravely against her minions, slaying many, only for the effects of poisons and dark magic to leave them bowed before her, dying. They had nothing left, so few did.
The more powerful of the two was ready for death. She’d seen the look a thousand times, could guess his back story without peering into his mind. A family, once, all lost to him now. All he wished for was a heroic death to depart this world on his own terms, and be with them once more, his name to live on.
The other, the weaker of the two, was scared. His eyes darted between her and the hounds at her side, contemplating the method of death that would surely come at any moment. She let him squirm for a while longer before speaking.
“The punishment that I will exact upon you tonight my esteemed guests, is one that has been centuries in the making. I have pondered many a moon about the most cunning and despairing way to ruin everything that gives you and your kind purpose”
“Just get on with it , you vile demon”, the stronger of the two spoke between swollen gums and clenched teeth.
“Oh I will I assure you, but relax, you have all the time in the world…”. She flashed a beautiful smile at him, her crimson eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
She stood and glided majestically over from her throne to stand between the men, her dark purple gown flowing behind her. The hounds stayed, eyes forward, unflinching.
She touched a flawlessly pearl-white hand to each man’s forehead, summoned her powers and incanted the spell. A gust of wind blew through her lair as the words echoed. Flames danced and her eyes glowed with each sound. After only a few moments, she stopped, let out a deep sigh and returned to her throne. It had been done.
Trembling, the scared man spoke first “ W..W..What did you do to us?”, he said, as he checked himself over, patting down his armour and feeling his face.
Slowly, their wounds began to heal, vibrant colours returning to their faces. They stood, looking at each other, mouths agape, utterly confused.
“You will never die. You will never be hurt. You will have the strength of a sea of men or more”
“So, what’s the downside again?” the scared man said, almost smiling, disbelieving.
“You will have no purpose in life, and your very presence will suck the meaning out of the lives of those around you. You will watch all of your loved ones die, never to be reunited on the other side” she replied , staying at the proud and strong man. His eyes gave her all the satisfaction she needed. He raised a hand, beginning to speak , but with a click of her fingers, they were gone. Her work was done.
“Now , my beautiful beasts, we sit back and watch. This will be most entertaining”
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"I see your plumpness." She crowed. "Oh yes, very wealthy you must be to afford so much food. I'm sure your resounding footsteps set all the ladies a quiver. With this spell, you shall shed your fat. No matter how much you eat you'll not gain it back."
I glanced down at my plump form. It was true, I was heavy, even approaching the fabled "dummy thicc". I'd been trying all sorts of diets, but their gallant efforts were crushed beneath my inexhaustible love of dessert. I sighed.
The witch didn't look the part at all. She was old, sure, elderly even, and she did wear a pointy hat, but the stereotype ended there. She wore thick bifocals and walked with the aid of a walker, complete with little tennis balls on the front. She wore a pastel bath robe over a t-shirt with a kitten hanging from a tree branch, words beneath read "hang in there". Her legs wobbled as she stood.
"I... I don't know what to say. Being fat hasn't been a status symbol in a long, long time. I've been trying to lose weight, actually."
"Oh, I know, deary." She said with a kind smile. "I'm an old witch, though, and all I know is curses, and you're such a nice young man. Now would you care for a treat? The cookies are nearly done."
"I probably shouldn't..." I said, reluctantly.
"Now listen here, I can bottle dreams and brew love, I think I can find my way around some chocolate chips." She began to shuffle back to the kitchen. "It's not like you're going to get any fatter."
I obliged and followed her into the small kitchen, wincing at the peeling linoleum. She fumbled with an oven mitt for a moment. "Do you need help with that?"
The oven door opened and the smell of cookies came wafting out. "I can manage." She said, setting the cookie sheet down across a pair of burners, which wobbled.
I took a brief glance at my surroundings. The house was in a sorry state. The paint was flaking, the window sat crooked. "I'm not really busy this weekend. Maybe I could come over and help you fix up the place?"
"You do something like that you're likely to get a powerful curse coming your way. I've got a few I learned in Egypt a long time ago. Horrible, terrible things."
"Like boils and fever and bad dreams?" I asked, leaning over the dingy little table and accepting a steaming mug of something that the witch slid my way.
"Oh that's kid stuff. I'm thinking more biblical. Maybe from Ezekiel 23." She grinned but I didn't get the reference, and her grin faded as she dropped a lump of sugar into her mug and stirred. "Oh, folks in those days had the strangest idea of what a curse was."
Edit: This was rapidly going nowhere and I didn't want to scrap it and I had a better idea for a much shorter response, which I'll write now.
She cackled. "My most powerful curse! A curse that cannot be undone! I curse you with long life! So that you may watch as your children as I write their destiny. Great your works may be, but they shall pale in comparison to your children, which shall likewise pale in comparison to the works of your children's children. Generation after generation their success will grow until all your work, all you've accomplished will be forgotten beneath their fully realized potential!" She cackled, a hideous sound that slowly faded.
"I... Thank you!" I shouted. That's all any parent wanted, right? For their kids to do better than them.
The witch deflated, then turned around slowly, mumbling "well I don't know what I did wrong that really upset the pharaoh last time I did it."
|
These fools, the Witch thought to herself as she perfected the final touches on her new spell. It didn’t matter how many she killed, didn’t matter how violent and gruesome the death she prepared for them was. It had been hundreds of years and still they would come seeking glory in the face of death, accepting either. They would become martyrs or heroes to their own kind, be written into history for their acts of valour. Be remembered. Leave loved ones behind with stories to tell and rejoice.
Even the scum among them could rise in the act of a valiant death, and she’d seen plenty. It gave them and those around them meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless life. They would endlessly toil, the masses against the few, campaigning to correct the balance of power, finding kinship and community in their actions. It made her sick.
The spell was ready, and so she turned her attention back to the two ‘heroes’ who knelt before her. They had fought bravely against her minions, slaying many, only for the effects of poisons and dark magic to leave them bowed before her, dying. They had nothing left, so few did.
The more powerful of the two was ready for death. She’d seen the look a thousand times, could guess his back story without peering into his mind. A family, once, all lost to him now. All he wished for was a heroic death to depart this world on his own terms, and be with them once more, his name to live on.
The other, the weaker of the two, was scared. His eyes darted between her and the hounds at her side, contemplating the method of death that would surely come at any moment. She let him squirm for a while longer before speaking.
“The punishment that I will exact upon you tonight my esteemed guests, is one that has been centuries in the making. I have pondered many a moon about the most cunning and despairing way to ruin everything that gives you and your kind purpose”
“Just get on with it , you vile demon”, the stronger of the two spoke between swollen gums and clenched teeth.
“Oh I will I assure you, but relax, you have all the time in the world…”. She flashed a beautiful smile at him, her crimson eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
She stood and glided majestically over from her throne to stand between the men, her dark purple gown flowing behind her. The hounds stayed, eyes forward, unflinching.
She touched a flawlessly pearl-white hand to each man’s forehead, summoned her powers and incanted the spell. A gust of wind blew through her lair as the words echoed. Flames danced and her eyes glowed with each sound. After only a few moments, she stopped, let out a deep sigh and returned to her throne. It had been done.
Trembling, the scared man spoke first “ W..W..What did you do to us?”, he said, as he checked himself over, patting down his armour and feeling his face.
Slowly, their wounds began to heal, vibrant colours returning to their faces. They stood, looking at each other, mouths agape, utterly confused.
“You will never die. You will never be hurt. You will have the strength of a sea of men or more”
“So, what’s the downside again?” the scared man said, almost smiling, disbelieving.
“You will have no purpose in life, and your very presence will suck the meaning out of the lives of those around you. You will watch all of your loved ones die, never to be reunited on the other side” she replied , staying at the proud and strong man. His eyes gave her all the satisfaction she needed. He raised a hand, beginning to speak , but with a click of her fingers, they were gone. Her work was done.
“Now , my beautiful beasts, we sit back and watch. This will be most entertaining”
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
These fools, the Witch thought to herself as she perfected the final touches on her new spell. It didn’t matter how many she killed, didn’t matter how violent and gruesome the death she prepared for them was. It had been hundreds of years and still they would come seeking glory in the face of death, accepting either. They would become martyrs or heroes to their own kind, be written into history for their acts of valour. Be remembered. Leave loved ones behind with stories to tell and rejoice.
Even the scum among them could rise in the act of a valiant death, and she’d seen plenty. It gave them and those around them meaning and purpose in an otherwise meaningless life. They would endlessly toil, the masses against the few, campaigning to correct the balance of power, finding kinship and community in their actions. It made her sick.
The spell was ready, and so she turned her attention back to the two ‘heroes’ who knelt before her. They had fought bravely against her minions, slaying many, only for the effects of poisons and dark magic to leave them bowed before her, dying. They had nothing left, so few did.
The more powerful of the two was ready for death. She’d seen the look a thousand times, could guess his back story without peering into his mind. A family, once, all lost to him now. All he wished for was a heroic death to depart this world on his own terms, and be with them once more, his name to live on.
The other, the weaker of the two, was scared. His eyes darted between her and the hounds at her side, contemplating the method of death that would surely come at any moment. She let him squirm for a while longer before speaking.
“The punishment that I will exact upon you tonight my esteemed guests, is one that has been centuries in the making. I have pondered many a moon about the most cunning and despairing way to ruin everything that gives you and your kind purpose”
“Just get on with it , you vile demon”, the stronger of the two spoke between swollen gums and clenched teeth.
“Oh I will I assure you, but relax, you have all the time in the world…”. She flashed a beautiful smile at him, her crimson eyes twinkling in the moonlight.
She stood and glided majestically over from her throne to stand between the men, her dark purple gown flowing behind her. The hounds stayed, eyes forward, unflinching.
She touched a flawlessly pearl-white hand to each man’s forehead, summoned her powers and incanted the spell. A gust of wind blew through her lair as the words echoed. Flames danced and her eyes glowed with each sound. After only a few moments, she stopped, let out a deep sigh and returned to her throne. It had been done.
Trembling, the scared man spoke first “ W..W..What did you do to us?”, he said, as he checked himself over, patting down his armour and feeling his face.
Slowly, their wounds began to heal, vibrant colours returning to their faces. They stood, looking at each other, mouths agape, utterly confused.
“You will never die. You will never be hurt. You will have the strength of a sea of men or more”
“So, what’s the downside again?” the scared man said, almost smiling, disbelieving.
“You will have no purpose in life, and your very presence will suck the meaning out of the lives of those around you. You will watch all of your loved ones die, never to be reunited on the other side” she replied , staying at the proud and strong man. His eyes gave her all the satisfaction she needed. He raised a hand, beginning to speak , but with a click of her fingers, they were gone. Her work was done.
“Now , my beautiful beasts, we sit back and watch. This will be most entertaining”
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"What?"
"I asked what the downside is."
"I've just told you."
"No you haven't."
"Yes, I have."
"Did not!"
"Did so!"
"Then why don't I remember?"
My ears seemed to fill with cotton, and I grew dizzy as she spoke once more.
"That ought to teach you lesson."
I blinked. "Sorry what was the curse again?"
The woman unleashed an ear rending shriek and slammed the door in my face.
"Ah kay then." I spun and walked out toward the gate. A sudden flash of deja-vu struck me as I touched the handle.
Oh yeah, I meant to ask her something.
I turned around once more, and knocked on the door.
|
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[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"I see your plumpness." She crowed. "Oh yes, very wealthy you must be to afford so much food. I'm sure your resounding footsteps set all the ladies a quiver. With this spell, you shall shed your fat. No matter how much you eat you'll not gain it back."
I glanced down at my plump form. It was true, I was heavy, even approaching the fabled "dummy thicc". I'd been trying all sorts of diets, but their gallant efforts were crushed beneath my inexhaustible love of dessert. I sighed.
The witch didn't look the part at all. She was old, sure, elderly even, and she did wear a pointy hat, but the stereotype ended there. She wore thick bifocals and walked with the aid of a walker, complete with little tennis balls on the front. She wore a pastel bath robe over a t-shirt with a kitten hanging from a tree branch, words beneath read "hang in there". Her legs wobbled as she stood.
"I... I don't know what to say. Being fat hasn't been a status symbol in a long, long time. I've been trying to lose weight, actually."
"Oh, I know, deary." She said with a kind smile. "I'm an old witch, though, and all I know is curses, and you're such a nice young man. Now would you care for a treat? The cookies are nearly done."
"I probably shouldn't..." I said, reluctantly.
"Now listen here, I can bottle dreams and brew love, I think I can find my way around some chocolate chips." She began to shuffle back to the kitchen. "It's not like you're going to get any fatter."
I obliged and followed her into the small kitchen, wincing at the peeling linoleum. She fumbled with an oven mitt for a moment. "Do you need help with that?"
The oven door opened and the smell of cookies came wafting out. "I can manage." She said, setting the cookie sheet down across a pair of burners, which wobbled.
I took a brief glance at my surroundings. The house was in a sorry state. The paint was flaking, the window sat crooked. "I'm not really busy this weekend. Maybe I could come over and help you fix up the place?"
"You do something like that you're likely to get a powerful curse coming your way. I've got a few I learned in Egypt a long time ago. Horrible, terrible things."
"Like boils and fever and bad dreams?" I asked, leaning over the dingy little table and accepting a steaming mug of something that the witch slid my way.
"Oh that's kid stuff. I'm thinking more biblical. Maybe from Ezekiel 23." She grinned but I didn't get the reference, and her grin faded as she dropped a lump of sugar into her mug and stirred. "Oh, folks in those days had the strangest idea of what a curse was."
Edit: This was rapidly going nowhere and I didn't want to scrap it and I had a better idea for a much shorter response, which I'll write now.
She cackled. "My most powerful curse! A curse that cannot be undone! I curse you with long life! So that you may watch as your children as I write their destiny. Great your works may be, but they shall pale in comparison to your children, which shall likewise pale in comparison to the works of your children's children. Generation after generation their success will grow until all your work, all you've accomplished will be forgotten beneath their fully realized potential!" She cackled, a hideous sound that slowly faded.
"I... Thank you!" I shouted. That's all any parent wanted, right? For their kids to do better than them.
The witch deflated, then turned around slowly, mumbling "well I don't know what I did wrong that really upset the pharaoh last time I did it."
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
"So.. What's the downside again?"
*The witch looks back at me, as I ask the simple question*
"Yes... You'll never find a girl you love EVER again. " *she says, she was having fun at this wasn't she?*
".. I mean, I did call you ugly, and this is what your giving me".
"oh Hohoh. You are one of those edgy types , the kind who want to be a loner. Still still your wrong. There is no way a boy like you will be without a girl. All boys find a wife, they marry. Or they die alooonee. AND YOU WILL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND. AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. "
*I stare back at her* "how.. How old are you exactly?"
*She blushes and then says.* "That's none of your business, I bet you'll say 'you don't look a day over 24' well surprise I'm 300"
*I was gonna say you look like a 1000. The age checks out however. Oh you poor poor soul.*
"well, now that I am cursed. I'm gonna leave you"
*The witch laughed*
"when you want to revert, remember.. I'll be waiting for you, right here... "
*I didn't hear the rest. She's just so old, well I'll never be coming back here again.*
*Time passes, eventually I do meet someone. The witch as angry as she was, made sure that no girl would be romantically involved with me. Some dark vodoo magic I suppose.*
*Still, it hasn't bothered me one bit. As I sit at a table, I look at the door with expectations. It's the first time I've spent effort into setting up a date.*
"Sir, are you sure you want to stay? Your date has taken quite a bit of time"
*Times like this make you impatient. I wanted to shout at the guy, and would have too, if it wasn't for the door opening.*
*That's when I saw my soul mate. It wasn't a girl. It was never a girl, no. It was always a boy*
*My name is Christopher Rodriguez. And I'm gay. *
|
“The world will speak to you, and only you.”
I couldn’t see the hex in the sentence. I was always a nature child, always speaking to the trees and dancing in the winds of inspiration. I wanted the world to talk back. This mad woman keeps muttering some mantra under her breathe and mixing spices together.
I gotta get out of here, I’m not even sure how long she’s kept me here or how I even got here, I remember my friends speaking of wanting to find some hallucinogens and they picked me up and now i’m here.
I stood. The wicked wiccan locked eyes with me. I wanted to leave, and In that moment every door blew open and every window shattered. My openings were clear, and i wasn’t spending another second in that damned cabin.
I bolted.
“Good luck.” She said as she finally breathed her last words to me... i hope.
I was in the middle of a swamp now. Every tree was bending in one direction, away from the cabin. It looked as if a tornado had just gone thru but didn’t uproot anything. Maybe a giant was just pushing trees down, I hope he doesn’t cross my path too.
One, two, three deer zoomed past. Birds flocked in the same direction as the insects swarmed the same way. I better follow, mother nature protects her children and if i want to avoid whatever is coming, i must follow.
After following the horde of creatures, a clearing had appeared. Every animal of the forest was there. Every insect, every living thing. They were all staring at me.
It wasn’t with anger though, I feared nothing. They were staring at me with hope. A plea of promise was located deep in every one of them. They needed me and brought me here. The holy mother was finally speaking to me i guess.
Lightning split the sky, although no clouds were above. Rain started to pour out of seeming nothing. A constant, low rumble was shaking the ground. The fear in the animals eyes resonated so deeply within me that i finally understood. Mother nature can’t save me.
I am supposed to save her.
/r/headspaced for my shinanigans and what not
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|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
It was one of those stupid accidents where your carrier bag splits and drops, in this case, a giant jar of pickled onions, and it rolls off and you go chasing it, in this case, into a witch's garden just in time to see it knock over some onion plants.
I mean, it's a small accident, but not a massive disaster. If she was really cross, a few pounds to cover the cost and inconvenience of buying onions?
But nooooooo. The woman who came out was three quarters made of malice I could feel even before she began screaming about my (epithet) legs on her (something) sacred ground or what not, like she's Hera and I'm trying to explain that it was all the swan's idea in the first place.
"...and for this defilement of my sacred ground, I curse you! In my name I curse you! I curse you to be barren. I curse your womb to shrivel. I curse you to a life without children."
I blinked. "So... what's the downside again?"
"No child born of your blood will ever be cradled in your arms," she said, pronouncing my doom with ghastly enjoyment.
"Oh, oh no, that's just terrible," I said, playing along. "All this over some onions?"
Well, that was a mistake. She was loud, and to be honest, rather unpleasantly scary in a manic frightening way, although that wasn't as scary as realising that some of her plants were staring at me, and blinking. Or the way a garden gnome, top hat and dinky little sword and red eyes and all, was sniggering. The gist of it was that it was her garden, those were her onions and I wasn't supposed to be there, which, given writhing tendrils of what was definitely *not* white jasmine, I had to agree with.
I backed away, step by step and left, alive, to have the blackthorn hedge slam shut in my face, only just missing slicing my nose, and there was no sign there had ever been a garden there.
Behind me was the mess I'd just left, including oozy cracked eggs. I picked up what I could, with somewhat shaky hands, and didn't really think about what I was doing until I was back at home drinking tea.
Barren. *Fifteen* times I'd tried to ask about having my tubes tied, but no, it was always 'you might change your mind' and at twenty-eight I was pretty damned sure that no I would not. So I'd prayed, with all due pagan ritual, just basically hoping for confidence, and then had a strong urge to have a nice cheese ploughmans and do myself a proper breakfast in the morning.
Of course, by the next day, I was sure it was a dream, and went to seek a sixteenth opinion upon fertility, mine, and the lack of desire to have it, but a few weeks later and gosh if there isn't a little plant growing near the garden path with tiny little blinky eyes and everything.
Anyway, twenty-first time was the charm, which was when I found out that my womb had somehow eaten itself and left a lump of scar tissue, and if there *is* a downside, I haven't yet found it. I mean other than the fact that most people are too creeped out to come into the garden, even if the blinking, staring plant usually hides. It's as if they know it's there.
I do look after it, and grow plants that give me a reason to be out looking after the place, and really, if someone came in there now, I'd actually be quite cross. I mean, really, that magical plant is pretty much a gift from the gods, isn't it. That makes my garden almost... sacred.
|
“The world will speak to you, and only you.”
I couldn’t see the hex in the sentence. I was always a nature child, always speaking to the trees and dancing in the winds of inspiration. I wanted the world to talk back. This mad woman keeps muttering some mantra under her breathe and mixing spices together.
I gotta get out of here, I’m not even sure how long she’s kept me here or how I even got here, I remember my friends speaking of wanting to find some hallucinogens and they picked me up and now i’m here.
I stood. The wicked wiccan locked eyes with me. I wanted to leave, and In that moment every door blew open and every window shattered. My openings were clear, and i wasn’t spending another second in that damned cabin.
I bolted.
“Good luck.” She said as she finally breathed her last words to me... i hope.
I was in the middle of a swamp now. Every tree was bending in one direction, away from the cabin. It looked as if a tornado had just gone thru but didn’t uproot anything. Maybe a giant was just pushing trees down, I hope he doesn’t cross my path too.
One, two, three deer zoomed past. Birds flocked in the same direction as the insects swarmed the same way. I better follow, mother nature protects her children and if i want to avoid whatever is coming, i must follow.
After following the horde of creatures, a clearing had appeared. Every animal of the forest was there. Every insect, every living thing. They were all staring at me.
It wasn’t with anger though, I feared nothing. They were staring at me with hope. A plea of promise was located deep in every one of them. They needed me and brought me here. The holy mother was finally speaking to me i guess.
Lightning split the sky, although no clouds were above. Rain started to pour out of seeming nothing. A constant, low rumble was shaking the ground. The fear in the animals eyes resonated so deeply within me that i finally understood. Mother nature can’t save me.
I am supposed to save her.
/r/headspaced for my shinanigans and what not
|
|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
“The world will speak to you, and only you.”
I couldn’t see the hex in the sentence. I was always a nature child, always speaking to the trees and dancing in the winds of inspiration. I wanted the world to talk back. This mad woman keeps muttering some mantra under her breathe and mixing spices together.
I gotta get out of here, I’m not even sure how long she’s kept me here or how I even got here, I remember my friends speaking of wanting to find some hallucinogens and they picked me up and now i’m here.
I stood. The wicked wiccan locked eyes with me. I wanted to leave, and In that moment every door blew open and every window shattered. My openings were clear, and i wasn’t spending another second in that damned cabin.
I bolted.
“Good luck.” She said as she finally breathed her last words to me... i hope.
I was in the middle of a swamp now. Every tree was bending in one direction, away from the cabin. It looked as if a tornado had just gone thru but didn’t uproot anything. Maybe a giant was just pushing trees down, I hope he doesn’t cross my path too.
One, two, three deer zoomed past. Birds flocked in the same direction as the insects swarmed the same way. I better follow, mother nature protects her children and if i want to avoid whatever is coming, i must follow.
After following the horde of creatures, a clearing had appeared. Every animal of the forest was there. Every insect, every living thing. They were all staring at me.
It wasn’t with anger though, I feared nothing. They were staring at me with hope. A plea of promise was located deep in every one of them. They needed me and brought me here. The holy mother was finally speaking to me i guess.
Lightning split the sky, although no clouds were above. Rain started to pour out of seeming nothing. A constant, low rumble was shaking the ground. The fear in the animals eyes resonated so deeply within me that i finally understood. Mother nature can’t save me.
I am supposed to save her.
/r/headspaced for my shinanigans and what not
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|
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
|
I braced as the witch described the curse to me. Then I blinked and stared at her blankly. "So... what's the downside again?"
She scoffed. "Ha! Foolish mortal. You fail to understand the consequences of your actions!" That much was true. I had gone on a bender, downing shot after shot. Thankfully, I chose to walk home. I don't know if I got lost or what, but apparently I peed on her magic bush - a plant, that is, don't get any weird ideas - and then passed out on her lawn. I awoke the next morning already cursed. At least that's what she told me. "You've crossed me for the last time," she said with a cackle. As far as I knew, this was our first encounter, but I was in no position to argue as I laid on the grass with my pants around my ankles. "You'll regret this," she muttered and then the door to her little shack slammed shut and I stumbled to my feet, my head pounding from last night's debauchery. I thought back to her curse, trying to figure out what exactly she was cursing me with.
*I curse you with the misfortunes of abundant portions, and with countless groin so you will never join and thus you will mourn that no son shall be born.*
After a few minutes of ambling about her yard, I gave up. There was no figuring this out. I needed a bathroom and I needed answers, not cryptic riddles and curses. "Ms. Witch," I said loudly, pounding on her door. I knew she could hear me. I saw the curtains crack open and shut just as quickly. "Ms. Witch," I repeated and finally on the fifth set of knocks the door creaked open.
"What do you want, you peasant pond scum?" Ouch? I wondered how old she was. She looked to be about a hundred but who knows with witches. Maybe she was about a thousand. That type of insult seemed like it would have gone out of style around the time she was born.
"I'm just a bit... confused." She stared at me with those little weasel eyes. She reeked of moth balls. She was that kind of old lady. "Did you curse me or bless me?"
"I cursed you," she snapped. She started to close the door but I blocked it with my foot.
"Right, of course." I rolled my eyes. We had already established that. "What exactly is the curse behind abundant portions and lots of groins? Those both sound great."
She shook her head. Apparently they weren't supposed to sound great. "Your wife will hate you. Your family will abandon you. You will never have a son." Alright, hold up. This lady was clearly more confused than I was. I don't have a wife. I don't want kids. My family would love some money. I think our mutual confusion finally came to light and her face softened. "Are you not the boy who used to chase my cats?" I shook my head. "Oh, my..." she muttered and she let the door swing all the way open and she kind of shuffled into the darkness of her hut. It smelled even worse than she did. "Sit," she commanded. She offered me a cup of... something. I refused. I was already cursed, I didn't want to be poisoned too. Unless her poison was equally ineffective... "He was a thin little boy," she began. I sat back. I was in for a long story. "That is why I cursed you to be plump. He always spoke of that girl he liked, said he wanted to catch a cat for her. He chose one of my cats, of course. That is why I cursed you with so many groins, so that no woman would want to marry you. And of course, in this day and age, a son is the only way a man can make a legacy."
"Is it?" I was not aware that today, in the twenty-first century, a son was a requirement. And with Tinder being all the rage, a lot of groins seemed like my right-swipes and DMs would finally be met with something other than unmatches.
"Do you know the boy? I think his name was Arthur Dillingsly." The name sounded vaguely familiar, like something that would have been taught in my history class when they covered the origins of the town, hundreds of years ago. Oh, right. The elementary school was named after him. Apparently as a kid he was a little shit, chasing this old lady's cats.
"I... Uh... He died." Her face brightened. Morbid. "He died like, five hundred years ago." Her face darkened again. I flinched, preparing for another curse. Or, worse, for her to reverse this curse.
"I think I've made a terrible mistake," she murmured to herself, shaking her head. I disagreed. This sounded like it would work out pretty well for me. "Let me uncurse you," she said and she stood to make her way to her spellbook.
"Wait, no." I stopped her. She looked at me in confusion. "Can I keep the curse? It's been a little while since those things you cursed were bad." She shrugged now.
"Have it your way," she said with a shrug and then she walked me to her door.
"Which way to the city?" I asked. I'm not sure why I asked. She didn't seem like she had left her house since Arthur was around several hundred years ago. I could probably figure it out or just call an Uber.
She looked at me strangely and then pointed to the left. "That way, of course. Towards the castle." I glanced that way. In the distance, I saw a castle that was definitely not there when I got to the bars yesterday.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
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“The world will speak to you, and only you.”
I couldn’t see the hex in the sentence. I was always a nature child, always speaking to the trees and dancing in the winds of inspiration. I wanted the world to talk back. This mad woman keeps muttering some mantra under her breathe and mixing spices together.
I gotta get out of here, I’m not even sure how long she’s kept me here or how I even got here, I remember my friends speaking of wanting to find some hallucinogens and they picked me up and now i’m here.
I stood. The wicked wiccan locked eyes with me. I wanted to leave, and In that moment every door blew open and every window shattered. My openings were clear, and i wasn’t spending another second in that damned cabin.
I bolted.
“Good luck.” She said as she finally breathed her last words to me... i hope.
I was in the middle of a swamp now. Every tree was bending in one direction, away from the cabin. It looked as if a tornado had just gone thru but didn’t uproot anything. Maybe a giant was just pushing trees down, I hope he doesn’t cross my path too.
One, two, three deer zoomed past. Birds flocked in the same direction as the insects swarmed the same way. I better follow, mother nature protects her children and if i want to avoid whatever is coming, i must follow.
After following the horde of creatures, a clearing had appeared. Every animal of the forest was there. Every insect, every living thing. They were all staring at me.
It wasn’t with anger though, I feared nothing. They were staring at me with hope. A plea of promise was located deep in every one of them. They needed me and brought me here. The holy mother was finally speaking to me i guess.
Lightning split the sky, although no clouds were above. Rain started to pour out of seeming nothing. A constant, low rumble was shaking the ground. The fear in the animals eyes resonated so deeply within me that i finally understood. Mother nature can’t save me.
I am supposed to save her.
/r/headspaced for my shinanigans and what not
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[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
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It was one of those stupid accidents where your carrier bag splits and drops, in this case, a giant jar of pickled onions, and it rolls off and you go chasing it, in this case, into a witch's garden just in time to see it knock over some onion plants.
I mean, it's a small accident, but not a massive disaster. If she was really cross, a few pounds to cover the cost and inconvenience of buying onions?
But nooooooo. The woman who came out was three quarters made of malice I could feel even before she began screaming about my (epithet) legs on her (something) sacred ground or what not, like she's Hera and I'm trying to explain that it was all the swan's idea in the first place.
"...and for this defilement of my sacred ground, I curse you! In my name I curse you! I curse you to be barren. I curse your womb to shrivel. I curse you to a life without children."
I blinked. "So... what's the downside again?"
"No child born of your blood will ever be cradled in your arms," she said, pronouncing my doom with ghastly enjoyment.
"Oh, oh no, that's just terrible," I said, playing along. "All this over some onions?"
Well, that was a mistake. She was loud, and to be honest, rather unpleasantly scary in a manic frightening way, although that wasn't as scary as realising that some of her plants were staring at me, and blinking. Or the way a garden gnome, top hat and dinky little sword and red eyes and all, was sniggering. The gist of it was that it was her garden, those were her onions and I wasn't supposed to be there, which, given writhing tendrils of what was definitely *not* white jasmine, I had to agree with.
I backed away, step by step and left, alive, to have the blackthorn hedge slam shut in my face, only just missing slicing my nose, and there was no sign there had ever been a garden there.
Behind me was the mess I'd just left, including oozy cracked eggs. I picked up what I could, with somewhat shaky hands, and didn't really think about what I was doing until I was back at home drinking tea.
Barren. *Fifteen* times I'd tried to ask about having my tubes tied, but no, it was always 'you might change your mind' and at twenty-eight I was pretty damned sure that no I would not. So I'd prayed, with all due pagan ritual, just basically hoping for confidence, and then had a strong urge to have a nice cheese ploughmans and do myself a proper breakfast in the morning.
Of course, by the next day, I was sure it was a dream, and went to seek a sixteenth opinion upon fertility, mine, and the lack of desire to have it, but a few weeks later and gosh if there isn't a little plant growing near the garden path with tiny little blinky eyes and everything.
Anyway, twenty-first time was the charm, which was when I found out that my womb had somehow eaten itself and left a lump of scar tissue, and if there *is* a downside, I haven't yet found it. I mean other than the fact that most people are too creeped out to come into the garden, even if the blinking, staring plant usually hides. It's as if they know it's there.
I do look after it, and grow plants that give me a reason to be out looking after the place, and really, if someone came in there now, I'd actually be quite cross. I mean, really, that magical plant is pretty much a gift from the gods, isn't it. That makes my garden almost... sacred.
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"So.. What's the downside again?"
*The witch looks back at me, as I ask the simple question*
"Yes... You'll never find a girl you love EVER again. " *she says, she was having fun at this wasn't she?*
".. I mean, I did call you ugly, and this is what your giving me".
"oh Hohoh. You are one of those edgy types , the kind who want to be a loner. Still still your wrong. There is no way a boy like you will be without a girl. All boys find a wife, they marry. Or they die alooonee. AND YOU WILL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND. AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. "
*I stare back at her* "how.. How old are you exactly?"
*She blushes and then says.* "That's none of your business, I bet you'll say 'you don't look a day over 24' well surprise I'm 300"
*I was gonna say you look like a 1000. The age checks out however. Oh you poor poor soul.*
"well, now that I am cursed. I'm gonna leave you"
*The witch laughed*
"when you want to revert, remember.. I'll be waiting for you, right here... "
*I didn't hear the rest. She's just so old, well I'll never be coming back here again.*
*Time passes, eventually I do meet someone. The witch as angry as she was, made sure that no girl would be romantically involved with me. Some dark vodoo magic I suppose.*
*Still, it hasn't bothered me one bit. As I sit at a table, I look at the door with expectations. It's the first time I've spent effort into setting up a date.*
"Sir, are you sure you want to stay? Your date has taken quite a bit of time"
*Times like this make you impatient. I wanted to shout at the guy, and would have too, if it wasn't for the door opening.*
*That's when I saw my soul mate. It wasn't a girl. It was never a girl, no. It was always a boy*
*My name is Christopher Rodriguez. And I'm gay. *
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[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
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The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
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"So.. What's the downside again?"
*The witch looks back at me, as I ask the simple question*
"Yes... You'll never find a girl you love EVER again. " *she says, she was having fun at this wasn't she?*
".. I mean, I did call you ugly, and this is what your giving me".
"oh Hohoh. You are one of those edgy types , the kind who want to be a loner. Still still your wrong. There is no way a boy like you will be without a girl. All boys find a wife, they marry. Or they die alooonee. AND YOU WILL NEVER GET A GIRLFRIEND. AND YOU WILL DIE ALONE. "
*I stare back at her* "how.. How old are you exactly?"
*She blushes and then says.* "That's none of your business, I bet you'll say 'you don't look a day over 24' well surprise I'm 300"
*I was gonna say you look like a 1000. The age checks out however. Oh you poor poor soul.*
"well, now that I am cursed. I'm gonna leave you"
*The witch laughed*
"when you want to revert, remember.. I'll be waiting for you, right here... "
*I didn't hear the rest. She's just so old, well I'll never be coming back here again.*
*Time passes, eventually I do meet someone. The witch as angry as she was, made sure that no girl would be romantically involved with me. Some dark vodoo magic I suppose.*
*Still, it hasn't bothered me one bit. As I sit at a table, I look at the door with expectations. It's the first time I've spent effort into setting up a date.*
"Sir, are you sure you want to stay? Your date has taken quite a bit of time"
*Times like this make you impatient. I wanted to shout at the guy, and would have too, if it wasn't for the door opening.*
*That's when I saw my soul mate. It wasn't a girl. It was never a girl, no. It was always a boy*
*My name is Christopher Rodriguez. And I'm gay. *
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[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?"
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The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?"
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It was one of those stupid accidents where your carrier bag splits and drops, in this case, a giant jar of pickled onions, and it rolls off and you go chasing it, in this case, into a witch's garden just in time to see it knock over some onion plants.
I mean, it's a small accident, but not a massive disaster. If she was really cross, a few pounds to cover the cost and inconvenience of buying onions?
But nooooooo. The woman who came out was three quarters made of malice I could feel even before she began screaming about my (epithet) legs on her (something) sacred ground or what not, like she's Hera and I'm trying to explain that it was all the swan's idea in the first place.
"...and for this defilement of my sacred ground, I curse you! In my name I curse you! I curse you to be barren. I curse your womb to shrivel. I curse you to a life without children."
I blinked. "So... what's the downside again?"
"No child born of your blood will ever be cradled in your arms," she said, pronouncing my doom with ghastly enjoyment.
"Oh, oh no, that's just terrible," I said, playing along. "All this over some onions?"
Well, that was a mistake. She was loud, and to be honest, rather unpleasantly scary in a manic frightening way, although that wasn't as scary as realising that some of her plants were staring at me, and blinking. Or the way a garden gnome, top hat and dinky little sword and red eyes and all, was sniggering. The gist of it was that it was her garden, those were her onions and I wasn't supposed to be there, which, given writhing tendrils of what was definitely *not* white jasmine, I had to agree with.
I backed away, step by step and left, alive, to have the blackthorn hedge slam shut in my face, only just missing slicing my nose, and there was no sign there had ever been a garden there.
Behind me was the mess I'd just left, including oozy cracked eggs. I picked up what I could, with somewhat shaky hands, and didn't really think about what I was doing until I was back at home drinking tea.
Barren. *Fifteen* times I'd tried to ask about having my tubes tied, but no, it was always 'you might change your mind' and at twenty-eight I was pretty damned sure that no I would not. So I'd prayed, with all due pagan ritual, just basically hoping for confidence, and then had a strong urge to have a nice cheese ploughmans and do myself a proper breakfast in the morning.
Of course, by the next day, I was sure it was a dream, and went to seek a sixteenth opinion upon fertility, mine, and the lack of desire to have it, but a few weeks later and gosh if there isn't a little plant growing near the garden path with tiny little blinky eyes and everything.
Anyway, twenty-first time was the charm, which was when I found out that my womb had somehow eaten itself and left a lump of scar tissue, and if there *is* a downside, I haven't yet found it. I mean other than the fact that most people are too creeped out to come into the garden, even if the blinking, staring plant usually hides. It's as if they know it's there.
I do look after it, and grow plants that give me a reason to be out looking after the place, and really, if someone came in there now, I'd actually be quite cross. I mean, really, that magical plant is pretty much a gift from the gods, isn't it. That makes my garden almost... sacred.
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[WP] The Scarecrows come every fall. To see one in your field is considered a bad omen. Today you wake to see 20 in your garden.
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Your first instinct was to run. To leave the old country and move to the city with your brother and uncles. It was the smart thing to do but you knew intelligence was not your best quality. It is why you stayed in town after the last battle and why you picked up your ax instead of running away.
You approach the scarecrows tentatively as if the would jump at you any second now. But they never did what you expected of them. Instead they stood there lifeless and unmoving. You find the one you have been looking for. Slowly you reach out and put your hand on its chest.
"Thank you father. Thank you for the guidance. And the warning." You hear the rustling from your fence and see the men of your village emerge one by one armed with their own weapons.
They did not speak to you but they approached the scarecrows and did as you did. Seeking out the ones they knew to be their own.
There were thank yous and sorrys and i love yous and we miss yous from here and there. Each crow having someone praying to them some with more than a few people. You hitch the ax on your shoulder as a quiet signal for the others.
Slowly, simultaneously, the scarecrows unhitch themselves from the poles upon which they were placed and from within their hay filled bellies they draw axes and sickles and all sorts of sharp tools. They were made for labour but tonight they were weapons.
And then you hear them. The crows have come. As they have before and as they always will. The very reason for the existence of your village.
The black feathers fall. The moons glows bright. Torchlights flicker and bounce off the shiny wings just beyond the field. These are no ordinary crows. They are the embodiment of human hate and evil. Crows themselves are not evil. Instead they collect the evils of the world and give them a form for culling. In a way they are the ultimate good. Taking the evils of the world upon themselves and dying so as to banish it. It was upon the men now to do their part.
The gigantic birdlike creatures look as similar to actual crows as lions do to alligators. They are grotesque abominations that curdle the blood. If you have never seen them before you might have lost your nerve but this is not your first fight and you are hoping not your last.
A squak. A flutter. And then you hear a scream of pure anguish that signals the begining of battle. You shout and so does everyone else. You run at them. They fly at you claw first. You swing your ax and make contact and feel ansatisfying chunk of flesh smack your shoulder. You keep at it. Chaos is the order of the evening. There is boold. Feathers. Sweat. Tears and hay flying here and there. It does not stop until light touches the sky. You wheeze and ache and pant and groan but you dare not stop.
When the first light hits the sky you find yourself surrounded by corpses. Man and beast and scarcrow lie around you in heaps. You have lost many friends but you have repelled the monsters. You are all safe fro another ten years. You find your father among the fallen scarecrows sadly beyond repair and you take his clothes for burning. Your dead friends are cleaned and their clothes collected to be made into the new guardians.
You should have left of the city years ago but you know there is no way you could leave now. There are fewer men in the village and you fear soon the crows would win the battle. You set the crows up in the fields and the next day they are gone, guarding the world and protecting us all from our own evils.
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"My God, what ***is*** that? Why do you have those?"
I inwardly groan at Autumn's question. She's been in my world for two days and it's as if she has zero intention of leaving. The woman already pointed out thousands of things 'wrong' about my house—like I didn't have to endure that critical expression of hers growing up. Unfortunately for now, I've got to stick it out since the mother we share is getting remarried for the millionth time.
I don't look up and instead, I focus on unwrapping my chocolate chip muffin.
"My house. My things. I like it." My attention diverts from my laptop screen to scowl at my food. Raisin.
"Pfft, okay sure. 'Cause that's literally the only friends you have," she chuckles, turning away from the kitchen door that opens to the yard. "Like that's not creepy at all."
Initially, I glance at her to roll my eyes and demand that she should close the door. Though my eyes meet not one, but 20 stagnant figures scattered outside, dressed in tattered clothes. My flowerbed is coated with straw; not an inch of soil can be seen. I can't believe it. I have never, not once, in the twenty years of living in this world encountered The Scarecrows.
My fists tighten and as much as I want to look away, my eyes refuse. Gulping, I rise from my chair with caution and feel the heat raise from my neck, to my cheeks, and to my ears. Is this just a delayed Scarecrow appearance for all the times they didn't show up, and probably should have? No, no, no, I can't think about this. I can't.
I'm not going to let them in.
"Everything was fine before. And *now* Mom decides she found The One? Perfect. *Perfect!*" Stomping over to the neglected calendar on the wall, I snatch it off the pushpin and slam it on the floor. "Why did I forget it was the first of Fall?" My head whips back to the unsettling sight. "I knew it was a risk moving to the Other World with occurrences like these... but I figured it'd be worth it so I wouldn't have to be surrounded by my crazy family!"
Silence. She doesn't say a word. The corners of her mouth hint at a smile—she thinks I'm the insane one.
Vomit expels from my mouth and lands onto my fuzzy bananas with maracas slippers. Crap, they don't make these anymore.
Autumn leaps from her chair and stands from a distance as she attempts to help by grabbing a roll of paper towels off the counter. The phone rings and she picks it up, answering it so comfortably like it's her own damn phone. My knees feel like they're about to give out.
"Hey mom!" She chirps, passing me the paper towels.
I lose balance and the roll slips from my grip, unraveling all the way to the door.
As weak as I am, I manage to muster up the strength and stand up just enough to watch an array of neon green eyes glow at the sight of a 2-ply white carpet at their feet.
"How far away are you? ... Oh great! ... Nah, we just had a real light breakfast. Barely a breakfast, actually... Is Jack with you? ... Cool, we'll go out and eat!"
I've just let them in.
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[WP] You're going to bury the body along I-95 just outside town. You get three feet deep and find another body. You believe burying them together is bad luck so you move and dig three hundred feet down the road and find another body, and another, and another, and another....
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Sitting at his desk Charlie reminisced about how everything had turned out so perfectly. By all accounts he shouldn’t be here. He should still be working the bar like he had in college. Maybe he should’ve been in jail but instead he had achieved world wide fame.
Sure things had been a bit rough in the beginning, trying to keep his original intent covered, but most people hadn’t thought anything about it.
“It was a mistake” they said, “happens to the best of us”.
No, getting caught out on that lonely stretch of highway had been the answer to all his dreams. He had been so nervous carrying that body out to that interstate in the desert. He had thought about it, planned it down to the last detail for so long he couldn’t believe he was actually doing it. Running the scenario over in his mind he had almost turned around halfway to the spot he had chosen but he was desperate and a bit high on the rush of it. It wasn’t until he started digging that he realized maybe he wasn’t the only one with this idea. He must’ve dug a hundred holes that night. In fact he was still digging when the police and news crews showed up the next morning.
After that the story ran on every station for months and he was questioned by everyone from the local police to the experts at the local college. After all, it’s not everyday you stumble upon the greatest archeological find of the century; and to think he had almost ruined it with that pile of bones he had cobbled together to be his “big discovery”.
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His arms were about ready to fall off the only thing that kept him going were the swirl of emotions, panic, and fear of being caught. This was the 6th place he decided to dig, he hoped no one would find the remains of the holes he had already filled as he lugged the body behind a tree. Once more he began to dig, with each thrust into the dirt shocks of pain flowed from his arms through the rest of him. He wasn't sure anymore if the blood on the shovels grip was his or that of his victim. This time he would be sure he kept digging until the 60 minute mark but to his deepest fear one more thrust of the shovel felt chillingly familiar, another body. Impossible he thought, it had already been 6 hours since he began searching and feared dawn would soon arrive at this point he had no choice but to bury them together. He began to slowly move dirt off the body in the hole to make room, as he did an inexplicable feeling crept up his spine, as if his hand was drawn to it he began to move the dirt off the head of the body. The reveal was the most terrifying thing he had ever seen the body he had just dug up was his own. He fell to his knees and as tears began streaming down his face he heard a blood-curdling laugh followed by a deep raspy voice whispering into his ear "You killed him, you brought this on yourself, welcome to hell".
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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The annual introduction to the "Galatic Committee of Intelligent Life" was starting in a couple days and would welcome 7 new species to the continuum. Apart from a few exceptions, they are a calm and peaceful time with lots of showcases from the new cultures that were joining. They have been running for almost 250 years, however this one was most perciluar.
The conference was normally alive with energy and laughter. This year though was unusually quiet. Groups hurried off in small clumps, keeping to themselves in hushed voices. The very air itself hung heavy, trapping the voices in its weight.
The subject of every conversation was the 6th group to join. People hushed in quite tones,
"I've got to share you something about the Humans before tomorrow, you should know." Gregor said, scanning the distance for anyone that might overhear him.
"Yes, yes, what have you seen?" Reta's eyes danced across his face, looking for the faintest hints
"Well.. you know I'm not meant to share anything until the official ceremony...."
His eyes drew down to hers.
"But... of all people, I believe you should know what you are getting yourself into... most of what you are hearing is true, I'm not sure if the council will call off the conference"
Reta almost mouth let out a gasp, but she was quick to conceal it.
"Call off the conference?" she stammered. "But they've never called off the conference. Even in the midst of field collapse they still held it. Trian would never allow it"
"Yes yes, i know. But these humans are nothing like anything we have seen before"
"So I've heard, but it can't all be true....."
"Well.. the Ancklelots in particular are pushing for an immediate cancelation. They are worried that the humans might not be able to control themselves"
"They can't be serious..?"
"Yes, they surely are. And honestly, I'm afraid for them as well... "
"Don't tell me you think it should be canceled too" Reta stammered
"Well... it is not completely uncalled for." His voice trailed off, but Reta quickly interjected
"Well I can't believe that, of all people. Your not seriously proposing discommunication"
"You haven't seen the files Reta" His eyes drew in close, and he leaned forward
"They have fields and fields of animals that they keep.. and when they get hungry.."
Reta's mouse closed tight
"... Look, I can't say anymore, but the council is worried that if the humans come to the conference...."
He looked over his shoulder, then leant closer to Reta
"That they will want to add us to their collection, and harvest us as well"
Reta's face fell white. Footsteps came from the right and Gregor turned away from Reta and welcomed the newcommer. Reta could hardly look as they discussed the weather and what they had both been up to this past year. Reta's mind raced to tomorrow morning when she would be welcoming the humans to the council.
"All ready for tomorrow morning then I trust "
Reta nodded then quickly excused herself. What was she going to do she asked herself over and over.
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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No. It wasn't possible.
"Hide, now!" His companions, the few remaining, dived into the shadows as quickly as their exhausted bodies could manage, and lay there, unmoving.
The 14th expeditionary unit had engaged in a standard cross-species joint task force: the mission was basic planetside infestation cleanup. Textbook. And he knew, he *knew* these alien bastards gleefully killed each other constantly. So what if most of them had been little runts, this time around?
What difference could that possibly make? The alien arrived after they were mostly done -- it was so slow, compared to them. They finished off the last few while the alien stood there, saying nothing. Then it turned on them, the vicious little animal.
The alien took three of his unit before they realized what had happened. Though he mourned the loss of those soldiers, he was proud of the fast reaction of those remaining. Despite its betrayal and subterfuge, they rallied and shot it, piercing its strange, soft exoskeleton and releasing what seemed like gallons of the disgusting ichor its species used as a circulatory fluid.
The ichor stank, like the metallic undercarriage in a poorly maintained reactor room. They abandoned its slumped over corpse and began heading toward the ship. At the time, his chief concern had been all the paperwork this cock-up would entail. Paperwork! He grimaced at the memory.
They had paused for their standard travel break after one hour of travel. Less than an hour travel time remaining, and they'd be back in their ship and on their way home. It had been an intense mission, clocking in at just under 4 hours to cover all that ground.
An enormous energy reserve expenditure, to be sure, but the elite training regimen he and his soldiers had gone through had conditioned them to endure more than most could. A similar mission with ordinary soldiers might take almost a standard day, allowing for proper rest periods.
At last, the ship was in sight. His scout alerted them first. "Sir, is that? It can't be." He turned and snatched her proffered optical enhancer. It was. Somehow, impossibly, the alien had beaten them to the ship. It had wrapped itself in some sort of cloth where it had been shot. He was not sure of the cloth's purpose; surely that couldn't be all its exoskeleton required to bind a penetrating wound? How was it even still alive?
He was no expert on alien emotion, but the creature looked ... angry. His weapons were no good at that range, and it must be that the alien was at death's door. "Disable the alien's weapon access code and withdraw. It will soon collapse and we can finish it off easily enough."
Those words haunted him now. It had been 11 brutal hours of chase and increasingly insuffient rest. His companions had begun dropping, near comatose from exhaustion. To his everlasting shame, he ordered his soldiers to leave the exhausted where they lay and carry on.
Slowly, inevitably, the distance narrowed between them, until the creature could be seen without enhancement. It stooped down over the latest fallen, disgusting keratin strands falling around its upper thorax. Then, once again, the creature raised the bony extensions on the ends of its upper limbs. And once again, with no way to stop it, it brought them down, over and over, beating his soldier to death. Breaking him apart.
More alien ichor spattered his companion's broken body as the monster continued. If he had any stomach contents left to void, he would have done so.
And now. Now, it was the end. He watched in helpless horror as the creature advanced on this, their final resting place. He looked at the alien's glistening brown exoskeleton. It was covered in a vile mixture of dirt, some disgusting, clear liquid excretion, and the creature's own circulatory fluid. No, not a true exoskeleton. Skin, he thought they called it. Its terrifying, huge optical organs stared pitilessly ahead. It had only two eyes.
Like a normal creature twisted and contorted into an unnatural state, it walked upright, stalking around on the two limbs attached to its lower abdomen. As it caught sight of their hiding place, part of the alien's skin curled away from the vicious biomineralizations in its feeding orifice.
Edit: My first time doing a story prompt here, I think. Hope you enjoy! On mobile, so bear with formatting.
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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zorax's audio recording log. day 12 of the Sol system scouting party.
"there is supposed to be a planet here with an oxygen atmosphere right? how the tell does that even happen? isnt oxygen supposed to be extremely corrosive and bonds to practically everything? Hynox, you're our chemist care to let me in on this?"
"no clue, nothing we know of should be able to geologically create oxygen on this scale, and long range scans show plenty of things for it to bond to on the surface. thats what we are here to find out."
approximately 6 hours later
"hey the closer we get the more strange things Im picking up from the planet, there are strange geological formations that are emitting light? they seem to be formations made of iron and quarts mostly."
"hey, stupid question Hynox, what if there is intelligent life here? that would explain everything."
"its not impossible, but randomly finding life like this? its never been done. almost always they had sent out some kind of faster than light communication that we use as a beacon, you know the shear statistics of randomly stumbling across a planet with not just life but sentient life? I mea-"
"hey Im picking up artificial structures in orbit, this planet defiantly has life on it. meaning this is going to be a hell of a lot more paper work. and their technology is clearly primitive enough that they wont be causing any problems for some while...you want to just skip this planet?"
"WHAT!?! if we make first contact then we will go down in history as the luckiest scouting party ever! you want to pass up this chance? Im scanning for a landing location. pull up diplomacy for qlorcs on the hyper space, we got some fast reading to do in the next 30 minutes"
"come on, this scouting mission is already taking to long, it was supposed to be a 5 day resource scouting mission but you where already to fascinated by the massive gas giants moons. I dont care if rings on planets are rare, its just a torn up planetoid that got to close."
"did I mention the ridiculous bounty on finding life?"
"...how much?"
"50 extra units and 100 for first contacts"
"screw it, Im in."
voice log skipping forward one hour
"hey... what do you think of these 'humans'? they are a bit odd dont you think? no armor, little strength, they sensing organs are easily over run, and according to this medical information they gave us in exchange for a hologram projector shows that all that it would take to kill them and most things on this planet is to burst one of their main blood tubes even among their planet they are easily killed the hell is going on here?"
"I have no idea, we might need to bring in a biologist or something. Im still reading over their evolutionary data they gathered. got to had it to them, they will make a biologist's job easy with all the research they have done and how their creatures can turn into fossils. they are a curious little bunch"
voice log day 15, the biologist Uxron has arrived
"this is the flag ship Glor, biologist Uxron here, hailing the scouting party. this is an emergency situation, we need you to evacuate as soon as you can. we have reviewed the data you have sent us, these humans are more than what they appear."
"what? these people are friendly, they are giving us a tour around their world they-"
"their ancestors where not predators, they hunted predators. they are a ridiculously young species so young they can randomly stumble upon tools use by their primal ancestors in some areas and yet they already are space flight capable. we can not risk anything happening we are sending in trained diplomats. do not piss these guys off"
"...copy, once tour is over we will return to scouting center for further orders... Hynox you heard them, we got to get out of here as soon as possible, one wrong move and-"
video log: Zorax turned to face Hynox but accidentally knocked the human that was addressed as "president" off of his legs and blood poured out of his olfactory organ. Hynox turned in horror to see what had been done.
"holy shi-"
end of log.
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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Incident 2541@ Re: Human Terror at Morpark Station
Present are Counselor Teeva of the Xenobiology Dept assigned to the Contact Division, Advocates Kor and Mindek of the Guardian Corp as well as various members of the Cultural Dept, Contact.
We're also graced by His Excellency the Arbitrator Krevak of the Royal Academy, who is here to mediate and offer his esteemed recommendations regarding Incident 2541@.
Advocate Kor: Counselor Teeva, can you please explain in your own words what happened at Morpark Station.
Counselor Teeva: Yes, Advocate. Thank you for providing this forum for me to present this case.
AK: Counselor Teeva, this isn't a case, we're evaluating this incident before recommending any pending cases per the esteemed Arbiter. *bows slightly towards the Arbiter who responds with a slight nod and a wave of his manipulator*
CT: Yes, thank you for the clarification. So, yes, to begin, I want to stress that Human James did not cause the Incident. In fact, he was a victim...
AK: *interrupting* You're saying he didn't cause widespread panic at the Marketplace of Morpark Station, severely injured 3 high ranking members of the Military and threatened an Archon's life?
CT: Well, he did do all that, but he didn't mean to?
AK: *sighs* Are you asking me if he did or didn't or are you telling me?
CT: I know it sounds bad when you list the outcome of his actions, but he certainly didn't start it, it was all due to Archon Litia provoking him.
AK: And how does an Archon provoke a human?
CT: By attacking that humans friend.
Advocate Mindek: And who would that be?
CT: Me?
AM: Please explain.
CT: Human James and I were at an Ice fruit stall, one of our few food items that humans can eat and love. I was explaining to James the different varieties when the Archon jostled me.
AK: The Archon had to reprimand you? Counselor Teeva certainly does not seem to be ill raised to be offer such disrespect.
CT: Unfortunately, I was not paying attention to my surroundings since I needed to focus almost completely when communicating with Human James. You see, Humans do not communicate with scents at all. They use their voice but they also use their face and manipulators to modify their meanings. If I were not focusing on their manipulators, the meaning of what they say can be entirely different.
AK: so they do not emphasize their words with scents? How inefficient.
CT: Its different, Advocate. I find a certain richness to their communication and am impressed by how... *compressed*their communication can be. Unfortunately, I was so engrossed in my communication with Human James that I had missed the warning scent from the Archon and did not move out of his way.
AK: so he jostled you. I understand why you were re-missed. You must have been terribly embarrassed. *scent of forgiveness and empathy wafting out*
CT: I was. I immediately abased myself to the Archon for my transgression.
Mindek: It was at this point when the Incident began. If everyone can turn their attention to the viewscreen, we'll review a recording of the Incident. Scent reproduction has been provided and I must issue a warning that a level 7 terror scent is part of the recording, if you do not wish to partake in that part of the recording, we have provided a scent free area to my left.
A force screen area of the evaluation room is highlighted, yet no one moves into it as everyone is interested a level 7 terror scent, even if its just an approximation.
The viewscreen shows an overhead view of the fruit stall from Station Security. In it, the Archon is seen bumping into Counselor Teeva. A jostle, used to teach younglings to reprimand an underling. In this case, the Archon had been especially harsh as having to reprimand an adult is usually unlikely. Counselor Teeva is seen shoved into the stall, knocking over some display items. All of the residents around brayed a bit and bowed their heads to the Archon. Counselor Teeva gets back on her feet and immediately abases herself as she sees she's offended an Archon. scents of her submission as well as stern disapproval from the surrounding people is replicated by the viewscreen.
The Archon sniffs to indicate his displeasure and proceeds to continue giving Counselor Teeva a final jostle.
Human James had shouted at the first jostle and was attempting to lift the much heavier and bigger Counselor Teeva from her abased position. At the second jostle, which also caused him to fall onto his backside, he shouted again. Most of the viewers laugh a bit seeing the slim unbalanced looking alien toppling over. How does one even stand much less do anything as a biped?
What happened next stopped their laughter. Human James quickly scrambles to his two feet and used one of his manipulators to grab onto the Archon's carrying harness. He shouts something in Human, while the Archon issues a shocked grunt and fright scent.
AK: Stop. *recording pauses* Counselor Teeva, what's happening here.
CT: Humans do not jostle each other. They have a very strong aversion to others entering a certain perimeter from them. To him, it looked like I was being attacked by the Archon.
AM: are they not herd creatures? do they not enjoy proximity?
CT: They are pack creatures, in that they enjoy the presences of their immediate pack, or creatures they adopt into their pack, but even then, close proximity is limited to rare occasions. They also do not engage in jostling or physical reprimands unless its to engage in combat.
The Arbiter: I begin to see. So in this situation, the Human has adopted you into his pack and therefore has not problem with being in close proximity to you. But since he has adopted you into his pack, he also feels the urge to protect you against other predators, which he treats the Archon.
CT: you are astute, Arbiter, that is correct. Though Human James understands our culture of reprimands, in the moment, his natural instinct to protect me has come to the fore. This is why he had detained the Archon, to attempt to address the attack upon me.
Arbiter: I see. Yet, I don't understand how he would think he could do anything in a jostle against the Archon who is at least 5 times his mass and is on a more stable stance using four limbs instead of the humans bipedal stance.
CT: Humans do not jostle, sir. They understand that we do it, but as you've noted they're not built for jostling with people. But you would be surprised at how stable their stance can be when they're in their Stable Mode.
Arbiter: I've heard about their different transformations, but I can not envision how that is possible. The human body seems like a child's toy ready to topple at any second and just barely able to stay balanced as it moves.
CT: If you'll proceed with the playback, you'll see Human James enter his Stable Mode and what happens later. Its fascinating once you see how they do it.
Video continues. Human James grabs the Archon's harness and, incredibly, restricts the Archons forward motion as he spreads his legs open wider and bends his knee. His form suddenly the very definition of stableness. He tugs and the Archon turns a bit to the side, stubby legs scrabbling for purchase on the station floor. The Archon's two guards, rush to his aid.
What happens next stuns the viewers. As the two subordinates rush to the Archon's aid, Human James snaps his head towards them. Even those unfamiliar with human expressions can see him calculating the direction and speed of the two approaching people. Quicker than a demon he has determined the optimum response and jumps towards them. It was at this time also that the Terror scent erupts from the approximator. The people in the playback all shout and back away. The viewers are horrified and some even piss where they stand. Shouts, screams, flight, submission, murderdeathkill, wantmomma scents are variously sprayed by the audience.
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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"Amit Lenscher?" The human didn't pause his oddly bent stride or shift in the darkness to face the many-limbed speaker, seeming instead to address the darkness ahead of him as the two continued to move. Errev had gotten past their annoyance at the unintentional insult days ago - the human had no way of knowing how long their name had once been, and they weren't about to volunteer so personal a shame - but Lenscher's sudden shift to rough informality was still an unnerving symptom of his asocial focus in the face of crisis. Errev knew that humans preferred - like his own people - to communicate visually as well as verbally. They valued eye contact, gestural signalling, the rituals of meeting and knowing and speaking. But Errev was coming to understand that the humans valued a lot of things they didn't necessarily need.
"Rev? You hurt?" The truncation of their name made Errev bristle less than it had at first, but the second part - the question of their health - stiffened every fiber on the backs of their dominant arms. Was it an expression of concern, or a probing for weakness? Errev could no longer be generous with assumptions toward his companion.
"No. I am not hurt, Amit Lenscher. Not more than before. I wanted to ask you a question." The human continued to move through the cramped passage ahead of Errev, slowing only to shovel debris aside with the flat of his damaged left forelimb. Eventually he spoke again, still moving. Always moving.
"Ask it then." The voice seemed quieter than had been expected, and Errev realized that they had been falling behind. Again. After scrambling back into the subtle heat that said the leading biped was close at hand Errev collected themselves and spoke:
"Before the attack we spent three months at your equatorial embassy together. You slept a quarter of every day, mainly through the darkness. Most of your people slept even more." Lenscher paused and straightened his back somewhat under the low ceiling of the channel, the first time he'd done either in three hours. The last was only for the twenty seconds it had taken him to defecate. Errev's momentary panic at the thought of that smell finding its way again to their olfactory gills was cut short as the human spoke, massaging a series of gunfire-like pops out of his working hand and non-working wrist as he did so.
"We do. Most of us need seven or eight hours of sleep a day." Errev waited for the vibration of Lenscher's oddly explosive joints to settle out of his jaw before replying.
"But you've been moving - with an injury, no less - for almost three days. In the dark. You've not slept. You haven't had anything to eat or drink. How?" Lenscher arched his back for a moment, then settled back into the crouching lope he'd maintained for most of the past 70 hours and continued down the half-collapsed cabling barrel. Errev tasted the human's increasingly acrid breath in the eddies of the tunnel's humid atmosphere as it slid across their arms and back for several moments, painting a mental picture of Lenscher's battered body receding at an almost machine-like pace into in the distance before scrambling again to catch up. Eventually the human spoke again.
"Lack of it - any of it you mentioned, that'll kill me eventually. Water I'll need sooner than the others, or something with water in it that won't make me too sick. I've been sucking condensation out of my shirt collar to stretch that out along the way but that's mostly just dirt and my own sweat now. Should make it to the switching station before it catches up to me though. Was 40 kilometers from the embassy, give or take. We're at least 30 in by now. I've been through worse. ...Not by much, but I have." There was a somberness beyond circumstance in those last words that Errev suspected meant the conversation had reached its end, but Lenscher continued after a moment's pause. "What about you, Rev? Gonna make it?" The undertones of the human's voice were muffled by the close quarters, but there was an something threatening in the way the new words rolled across the walls. Sharper, smoother, more penetrating. The human was smiling. Errev's arms ached. When they spoke again it was barely a whisper.
"I am a sentry, a guardian. A soldier. You are a diplomat. You have short days, short lives, and soft bodies. You want for great comforts. But what you need is so much less than what you desire. I see you now under such great pressure, moving still. Hunting. It frightens, Amit Lenscher. It terrifies." Enameled teeth flashed mirthlessly in the gloom, infrared reflections of sound and warmth half lost in the darkness swimming at the edge of Errev's surrogate sight.
"We were so happy to not be alone in the universe, you know. To find someone else out there. Someone not like us." Errev chittered in horror. "Don't worry, Rev. We're in this together. I'm not so bad off as I made it sound before. I know you're having trouble keeping up. If you need to sleep, sleep. I can wait."
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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its rough but hell its something.
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We lost the Alliance fleet thirty systems ago. We didn’t lose that ship, that thrice damned human capital ship. The human territories where the first we invaded, their border was closest to ours, lightly defended compared to their inner facing borders and ripe for conquest. Our fleets pushed aside their defences, smashed ships crushed stations. Our armies landed and enslaved populations. Two cycles later and we had almost all of human territory under our sway. The human fleets were quick responders of course but we had the entire might of our empire against a single faction within the alliance.
The human’s last fleet took all the refugees they could into alliance space, their ships are built differently from ours, they operate for years in the black without needing to return to port, we pillaged what we needed and burnt the rest. When they fled was when the war began in earnest.
Fleets where gutted, stations rained down on burning planets, entire populations died in milliseconds as bombardment projectiles cracked the surface of planets. It was a glorious war, but one we ultimately lost. The alliance core system, home of their government is a lynchpin system. You take that you take the alliance. There was no other way forwards for us. So we slammed against this system venomously defended by the remaining militaries of conquered species. The humans fleet reduced to a few dozen ships, now scarred veterans among the alliance, took 5 times their number in the final push.
That was the turning point, we lost too many ships to keep what we had taken. So we fell back, and back... and back until we were pushed from alliance territory. Pushed from what remained of the desiccated human’s former territory. That’s where the Alliance stopped. We began the trip home, but one ship kept chasing us. It would be there at the edge of every system we travelled through, sitting, watching. We soon realised why. The 100 jumps we had to go through to get home was costing us. We had to stop for fuel. Stop to harvest planets for organic material, food. And each time we entered a system we found planets bursting. Volcanoes causing mass extinction, raising the temperatures beyond what we can survive. Jump points between systems were mined and cost us ships to clear out so we went sideways, skirting systems and jumping in circles to try and run from the ship.
It was three jumps ago our first ships ran dry of fuel. Whilst we were shuttling the crews across kinetic projectiles slammed into their hulls, enough energy to reduce the ships to dust and exotic particles was all that was left of them without their shields.
We started abandoning ships when they ran dry.
Between jumps we would take what crew and fuel we could from the small ships and scuttle them, give a ship as honourable send off as we could. Each time that damned ship was there, watching. Waiting.
We’re three jumps from home now. Salvation is only jumps away. We drew lots to see who would be processed into food and fuel. The human ship is the only other ship sharing this otherwise empty system. Its watching, waiting, we have no fuel to turn and fight, no weapons large enough to pierce is shields. I watch as the crew solemnly kill one another to feed the ship and themselves. There’s three things in this system, us, the damned humans, and a small white hot chunk of carbon so dense that it’s eaten everything else here. I pull out two quills one black one white and with them behind my back roll them until I can’t tell which is which. Still with them behind my back I decide, black we keep running, white I dont give the humans the satisfaction.
Picking one of the quills I hold it up, I dont know how long I stood there looking at the single barbed quill in my fingers. With a sigh I sit down at my chair, override all controls from the crew and seal the bridge. It only takes a moment to line the ship up with that glowing white hot ball, I authorise full thrust from the engines and sit there as the crew attempt to batter down the door.
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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First contact was... uneventful. Initially. We landed on their planet, in one of several areas lightly populated by them, but by no means devoid of native life as a whole. It only took three or four rotations before we caught sight of two of them, surprisingly well camouflaged and apparently hunting some local herbivores with effective, if primitive, chemically propelled projectile weapons. Still, it's not like predatory intelligent species are rare. We spotted them, they spotted us, and we retreated, according to standard protocol. A "cooling off" period. What we didn't count on was just how different their niche in their original ecosystem was.
There we were, relaxed, at what we thought was a safe distance, when we heard a rustle and a snap, and one of them was suddenly less than 10 body lengths from us! Apparently, unlike **every** other intelligent species we've encountered, their first instinct when they encounter something they've never seen before is to immediately pursue it. And they are **great** at it. Most of the reasonably sized creatures we've observed on their planet transport themselves on four limbs. A proper, reasonable number, enough for stability, even in the event of a wound, with an extended, fifth limb, for balance. These sapients though, they bound around on only their two lower limbs, which are huge and heavily muscled, and unlike all the other species we've seen, have huge, muscled posteriors, to make sure they don't fall over every time they lurch around unbalanced.
We scattered, and traveled before resting again, but almost as soon as we set down, there they were again! And it happened again, and again! Every time we needed to stop, or rest, before we had time to even calm down, there they were! They only slowed down when it got dark! After another revolution like this, we figured out that their intelligence seems fine-tuned to spot the practically insignificant changes other animals make to the environment as they pass through it. What kind of crazy evolutionary advantage is that!? Here we were, running every time they got close, and they were just lazily spotting our paths through the vegetation, and following us at a leisurely pace. What's really crazy is they didn't even really stop to rest, except at night. They barely paused to do things as important as eating and drinking, nevermind excretion. They just **kept** *going*. It was terrifying.
We came with a full kit, on a faster-than-light ship, and we were being outsmarted and ruthlessly followed by just two totally isolated humans, with barely any of the technology or support we know they thrive on as a society. Eventually, we had to accept that protocol just wasn't going to cut it. We were being hunted, and all our technology and preparation wasn't going to help us escape. We couldn't risk leading them back to the landing craft, and we couldn't get far enough ahead to use it without them seeing the lift-off.
So, we set traps. I know, I know, horrifying, right? The idea of having to make the basic language analysis and first greeting with one party in a net or cage? But you have to understand, we were exhausted, even at night, when we knew they had to rest, we couldn't let our guard down. It was always just a matter of time until they knew exactly where we were. The entire team started experiencing anxiety symptoms! So we pushed, hard, to get enough extra distance for the preparations. We even managed some redundancies. This was going to work. And then, we heard the first trap go off. I scouted out, personally, to check the trap, but before I even got close, there they were! both of them, just...standing there, looking at it. Moving their primary intake orifices, using what we'd already surmised was their primary natural communication system.
>(note: translation provided from logs, based on linguistic data acquired at a later date, I had **no** idea what they were saying at the time)
>"You think some other hunter left this out?"
>"...no, that'd be really irresponsible, no one's close enough to check them."
>"hmm, you're right."
>"I'm telling you man, these things looked weird. I could swear they were **wearing** things."
>"like...clothes?"
It was at this point that I'd decided I'd captured enough data on their communication, for now, and that I needed to fall back to the group. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and nerves got the better of me, and I gave away my position, somehow. I don't even know, but suddenly their communications ceased and they were looking **right** at me. I sprinted off, figuring they'd follow at their leisure, but something was different this time. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I encountered something biologically familiar for us: being chased, actually chased, not the terrifying chain-of-surprises nonsense. But by this point... I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't get ahead. Even if I had...they would have just found me again. So I beat a path straight back to the group. The first sighting protocol had failed, horrifically, but at least as a group, with our basic wild-life defense weapons we might be able to survive.
I collapsed out of the brush and into the circle of the rest of my team, still able to hear those bizarre bipeds crashing behind me. We grouped up, for once, expecting when and where they'd appear, ready to fight for our lives. We couldn't expect a predator like this, one that clearly thrived on utterly dominating its prey to just leave us be when they caught up to us in mere moments. And with a final crash, there they were. The two of them. Just...standing and staring at us, silently. After a few, tense moments, they communicated to one another, without taking their eyes off us:
>"duuuude, I **told** you!"
>"*what* are these things!?"
And then, they did the absolute last thing we expected, they put their weapons away, behind them, and crouched down, making themselves smaller! It was like just now, after fraying our every instinct, pushing us to exhaustion and utterly terrifying us, now, they didn't want to intimidate us. They even lowered the intensity of their communication, softening it, somehow.
>"Look, they're exhausted, and huddled up like that? They look like they're terrified."
>"Hey, there, you guys, alright? We've had you on the ropes for a while now, haven't we?"
---
oh man, my first ever submission to a writing prompt, plus it's been forever since I did any kind of creative writing. I might write another one for this prompt, no one seems to have put humans on a more equal footing with the aliens, which is something I'm generally a fan of.
Edited for some typos and formatting.
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A massive impact carried through the ship's hull as it skipped sideways, losing the starboard engine to fuel starvation. The crew of creatures from a far off land were breathing shallowly, every muscle taut with stress. They had narrowly avoided death weeks before and had just finished making the mistake of jumping to a system without a gas giant. No Helium 3 meant that was their last jump, at least for a few days.
Captain Jkung had barely begun scanning for a minable reserve of fuel when the instruments in front of him lit up, identifying a massive quantity of relatively pure helium. A wave of relief washed over him as he maneuvered the ship to slowly coast toward their salvation, near at hand. Should have been, at least.
*Gas giants don't just disappear.*
An icy had gripped his spine as he took in the windscreen view that revealed nothing but the emptiness of space. He ran the scanner twice more, both times revealing the location of absolutely nothing where a planet should be.
Jkung ordered Cnig to go spaceside to inspect the scanners for damage inflicted during the battle with the humans. Sweating bullets as the headset crackled to life, Cnig informed his captain of a nightmare beyond his imagination; they've tampered with the scanners. A module blocked the long range beam and modified the output to unknown values. New scans place them about .14 light-years from the nearest star system, as the inky black of space finally settled into the crews minds. All they had left to do was wait to die in the absolute vacuum.
The humans were coming.
#Bonus ending:
Jkung resigned himself to death, as the words of the human Admiral Jones echoed through his head one last time.
"*I'M ANIMATED, I'M ALIVE! MY HEART'S BIG, IT'S GOT HOT BLOOD GOING THROUGH IT FAST! I LIKE TO FIGHT TOO! I LIKE TO EAT! I LIKE TO HAVE CHILDREN! I'M HERE! I GOT A LIFE FORCE, THIS IS A HUMAN, THIS IS WHAT WE LOOK LIKE, THIS IS WHAT WE ACT LIKE!*
*I'M A PIONEER, I'M AN EXPLORER! I'M A HUMAN AND I'M COMIN'!*"
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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No. It wasn't possible.
"Hide, now!" His companions, the few remaining, dived into the shadows as quickly as their exhausted bodies could manage, and lay there, unmoving.
The 14th expeditionary unit had engaged in a standard cross-species joint task force: the mission was basic planetside infestation cleanup. Textbook. And he knew, he *knew* these alien bastards gleefully killed each other constantly. So what if most of them had been little runts, this time around?
What difference could that possibly make? The alien arrived after they were mostly done -- it was so slow, compared to them. They finished off the last few while the alien stood there, saying nothing. Then it turned on them, the vicious little animal.
The alien took three of his unit before they realized what had happened. Though he mourned the loss of those soldiers, he was proud of the fast reaction of those remaining. Despite its betrayal and subterfuge, they rallied and shot it, piercing its strange, soft exoskeleton and releasing what seemed like gallons of the disgusting ichor its species used as a circulatory fluid.
The ichor stank, like the metallic undercarriage in a poorly maintained reactor room. They abandoned its slumped over corpse and began heading toward the ship. At the time, his chief concern had been all the paperwork this cock-up would entail. Paperwork! He grimaced at the memory.
They had paused for their standard travel break after one hour of travel. Less than an hour travel time remaining, and they'd be back in their ship and on their way home. It had been an intense mission, clocking in at just under 4 hours to cover all that ground.
An enormous energy reserve expenditure, to be sure, but the elite training regimen he and his soldiers had gone through had conditioned them to endure more than most could. A similar mission with ordinary soldiers might take almost a standard day, allowing for proper rest periods.
At last, the ship was in sight. His scout alerted them first. "Sir, is that? It can't be." He turned and snatched her proffered optical enhancer. It was. Somehow, impossibly, the alien had beaten them to the ship. It had wrapped itself in some sort of cloth where it had been shot. He was not sure of the cloth's purpose; surely that couldn't be all its exoskeleton required to bind a penetrating wound? How was it even still alive?
He was no expert on alien emotion, but the creature looked ... angry. His weapons were no good at that range, and it must be that the alien was at death's door. "Disable the alien's weapon access code and withdraw. It will soon collapse and we can finish it off easily enough."
Those words haunted him now. It had been 11 brutal hours of chase and increasingly insuffient rest. His companions had begun dropping, near comatose from exhaustion. To his everlasting shame, he ordered his soldiers to leave the exhausted where they lay and carry on.
Slowly, inevitably, the distance narrowed between them, until the creature could be seen without enhancement. It stooped down over the latest fallen, disgusting keratin strands falling around its upper thorax. Then, once again, the creature raised the bony extensions on the ends of its upper limbs. And once again, with no way to stop it, it brought them down, over and over, beating his soldier to death. Breaking him apart.
More alien ichor spattered his companion's broken body as the monster continued. If he had any stomach contents left to void, he would have done so.
And now. Now, it was the end. He watched in helpless horror as the creature advanced on this, their final resting place. He looked at the alien's glistening brown exoskeleton. It was covered in a vile mixture of dirt, some disgusting, clear liquid excretion, and the creature's own circulatory fluid. No, not a true exoskeleton. Skin, he thought they called it. Its terrifying, huge optical organs stared pitilessly ahead. It had only two eyes.
Like a normal creature twisted and contorted into an unnatural state, it walked upright, stalking around on the two limbs attached to its lower abdomen. As it caught sight of their hiding place, part of the alien's skin curled away from the vicious biomineralizations in its feeding orifice.
Edit: My first time doing a story prompt here, I think. Hope you enjoy! On mobile, so bear with formatting.
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The annual introduction to the "Galatic Committee of Intelligent Life" was starting in a couple days and would welcome 7 new species to the continuum. Apart from a few exceptions, they are a calm and peaceful time with lots of showcases from the new cultures that were joining. They have been running for almost 250 years, however this one was most perciluar.
The conference was normally alive with energy and laughter. This year though was unusually quiet. Groups hurried off in small clumps, keeping to themselves in hushed voices. The very air itself hung heavy, trapping the voices in its weight.
The subject of every conversation was the 6th group to join. People hushed in quite tones,
"I've got to share you something about the Humans before tomorrow, you should know." Gregor said, scanning the distance for anyone that might overhear him.
"Yes, yes, what have you seen?" Reta's eyes danced across his face, looking for the faintest hints
"Well.. you know I'm not meant to share anything until the official ceremony...."
His eyes drew down to hers.
"But... of all people, I believe you should know what you are getting yourself into... most of what you are hearing is true, I'm not sure if the council will call off the conference"
Reta almost mouth let out a gasp, but she was quick to conceal it.
"Call off the conference?" she stammered. "But they've never called off the conference. Even in the midst of field collapse they still held it. Trian would never allow it"
"Yes yes, i know. But these humans are nothing like anything we have seen before"
"So I've heard, but it can't all be true....."
"Well.. the Ancklelots in particular are pushing for an immediate cancelation. They are worried that the humans might not be able to control themselves"
"They can't be serious..?"
"Yes, they surely are. And honestly, I'm afraid for them as well... "
"Don't tell me you think it should be canceled too" Reta stammered
"Well... it is not completely uncalled for." His voice trailed off, but Reta quickly interjected
"Well I can't believe that, of all people. Your not seriously proposing discommunication"
"You haven't seen the files Reta" His eyes drew in close, and he leaned forward
"They have fields and fields of animals that they keep.. and when they get hungry.."
Reta's mouse closed tight
"... Look, I can't say anymore, but the council is worried that if the humans come to the conference...."
He looked over his shoulder, then leant closer to Reta
"That they will want to add us to their collection, and harvest us as well"
Reta's face fell white. Footsteps came from the right and Gregor turned away from Reta and welcomed the newcommer. Reta could hardly look as they discussed the weather and what they had both been up to this past year. Reta's mind raced to tomorrow morning when she would be welcoming the humans to the council.
"All ready for tomorrow morning then I trust "
Reta nodded then quickly excused herself. What was she going to do she asked herself over and over.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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Incident 2541@ Re: Human Terror at Morpark Station
Present are Counselor Teeva of the Xenobiology Dept assigned to the Contact Division, Advocates Kor and Mindek of the Guardian Corp as well as various members of the Cultural Dept, Contact.
We're also graced by His Excellency the Arbitrator Krevak of the Royal Academy, who is here to mediate and offer his esteemed recommendations regarding Incident 2541@.
Advocate Kor: Counselor Teeva, can you please explain in your own words what happened at Morpark Station.
Counselor Teeva: Yes, Advocate. Thank you for providing this forum for me to present this case.
AK: Counselor Teeva, this isn't a case, we're evaluating this incident before recommending any pending cases per the esteemed Arbiter. *bows slightly towards the Arbiter who responds with a slight nod and a wave of his manipulator*
CT: Yes, thank you for the clarification. So, yes, to begin, I want to stress that Human James did not cause the Incident. In fact, he was a victim...
AK: *interrupting* You're saying he didn't cause widespread panic at the Marketplace of Morpark Station, severely injured 3 high ranking members of the Military and threatened an Archon's life?
CT: Well, he did do all that, but he didn't mean to?
AK: *sighs* Are you asking me if he did or didn't or are you telling me?
CT: I know it sounds bad when you list the outcome of his actions, but he certainly didn't start it, it was all due to Archon Litia provoking him.
AK: And how does an Archon provoke a human?
CT: By attacking that humans friend.
Advocate Mindek: And who would that be?
CT: Me?
AM: Please explain.
CT: Human James and I were at an Ice fruit stall, one of our few food items that humans can eat and love. I was explaining to James the different varieties when the Archon jostled me.
AK: The Archon had to reprimand you? Counselor Teeva certainly does not seem to be ill raised to be offer such disrespect.
CT: Unfortunately, I was not paying attention to my surroundings since I needed to focus almost completely when communicating with Human James. You see, Humans do not communicate with scents at all. They use their voice but they also use their face and manipulators to modify their meanings. If I were not focusing on their manipulators, the meaning of what they say can be entirely different.
AK: so they do not emphasize their words with scents? How inefficient.
CT: Its different, Advocate. I find a certain richness to their communication and am impressed by how... *compressed*their communication can be. Unfortunately, I was so engrossed in my communication with Human James that I had missed the warning scent from the Archon and did not move out of his way.
AK: so he jostled you. I understand why you were re-missed. You must have been terribly embarrassed. *scent of forgiveness and empathy wafting out*
CT: I was. I immediately abased myself to the Archon for my transgression.
Mindek: It was at this point when the Incident began. If everyone can turn their attention to the viewscreen, we'll review a recording of the Incident. Scent reproduction has been provided and I must issue a warning that a level 7 terror scent is part of the recording, if you do not wish to partake in that part of the recording, we have provided a scent free area to my left.
A force screen area of the evaluation room is highlighted, yet no one moves into it as everyone is interested a level 7 terror scent, even if its just an approximation.
The viewscreen shows an overhead view of the fruit stall from Station Security. In it, the Archon is seen bumping into Counselor Teeva. A jostle, used to teach younglings to reprimand an underling. In this case, the Archon had been especially harsh as having to reprimand an adult is usually unlikely. Counselor Teeva is seen shoved into the stall, knocking over some display items. All of the residents around brayed a bit and bowed their heads to the Archon. Counselor Teeva gets back on her feet and immediately abases herself as she sees she's offended an Archon. scents of her submission as well as stern disapproval from the surrounding people is replicated by the viewscreen.
The Archon sniffs to indicate his displeasure and proceeds to continue giving Counselor Teeva a final jostle.
Human James had shouted at the first jostle and was attempting to lift the much heavier and bigger Counselor Teeva from her abased position. At the second jostle, which also caused him to fall onto his backside, he shouted again. Most of the viewers laugh a bit seeing the slim unbalanced looking alien toppling over. How does one even stand much less do anything as a biped?
What happened next stopped their laughter. Human James quickly scrambles to his two feet and used one of his manipulators to grab onto the Archon's carrying harness. He shouts something in Human, while the Archon issues a shocked grunt and fright scent.
AK: Stop. *recording pauses* Counselor Teeva, what's happening here.
CT: Humans do not jostle each other. They have a very strong aversion to others entering a certain perimeter from them. To him, it looked like I was being attacked by the Archon.
AM: are they not herd creatures? do they not enjoy proximity?
CT: They are pack creatures, in that they enjoy the presences of their immediate pack, or creatures they adopt into their pack, but even then, close proximity is limited to rare occasions. They also do not engage in jostling or physical reprimands unless its to engage in combat.
The Arbiter: I begin to see. So in this situation, the Human has adopted you into his pack and therefore has not problem with being in close proximity to you. But since he has adopted you into his pack, he also feels the urge to protect you against other predators, which he treats the Archon.
CT: you are astute, Arbiter, that is correct. Though Human James understands our culture of reprimands, in the moment, his natural instinct to protect me has come to the fore. This is why he had detained the Archon, to attempt to address the attack upon me.
Arbiter: I see. Yet, I don't understand how he would think he could do anything in a jostle against the Archon who is at least 5 times his mass and is on a more stable stance using four limbs instead of the humans bipedal stance.
CT: Humans do not jostle, sir. They understand that we do it, but as you've noted they're not built for jostling with people. But you would be surprised at how stable their stance can be when they're in their Stable Mode.
Arbiter: I've heard about their different transformations, but I can not envision how that is possible. The human body seems like a child's toy ready to topple at any second and just barely able to stay balanced as it moves.
CT: If you'll proceed with the playback, you'll see Human James enter his Stable Mode and what happens later. Its fascinating once you see how they do it.
Video continues. Human James grabs the Archon's harness and, incredibly, restricts the Archons forward motion as he spreads his legs open wider and bends his knee. His form suddenly the very definition of stableness. He tugs and the Archon turns a bit to the side, stubby legs scrabbling for purchase on the station floor. The Archon's two guards, rush to his aid.
What happens next stuns the viewers. As the two subordinates rush to the Archon's aid, Human James snaps his head towards them. Even those unfamiliar with human expressions can see him calculating the direction and speed of the two approaching people. Quicker than a demon he has determined the optimum response and jumps towards them. It was at this time also that the Terror scent erupts from the approximator. The people in the playback all shout and back away. The viewers are horrified and some even piss where they stand. Shouts, screams, flight, submission, murderdeathkill, wantmomma scents are variously sprayed by the audience.
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The annual introduction to the "Galatic Committee of Intelligent Life" was starting in a couple days and would welcome 7 new species to the continuum. Apart from a few exceptions, they are a calm and peaceful time with lots of showcases from the new cultures that were joining. They have been running for almost 250 years, however this one was most perciluar.
The conference was normally alive with energy and laughter. This year though was unusually quiet. Groups hurried off in small clumps, keeping to themselves in hushed voices. The very air itself hung heavy, trapping the voices in its weight.
The subject of every conversation was the 6th group to join. People hushed in quite tones,
"I've got to share you something about the Humans before tomorrow, you should know." Gregor said, scanning the distance for anyone that might overhear him.
"Yes, yes, what have you seen?" Reta's eyes danced across his face, looking for the faintest hints
"Well.. you know I'm not meant to share anything until the official ceremony...."
His eyes drew down to hers.
"But... of all people, I believe you should know what you are getting yourself into... most of what you are hearing is true, I'm not sure if the council will call off the conference"
Reta almost mouth let out a gasp, but she was quick to conceal it.
"Call off the conference?" she stammered. "But they've never called off the conference. Even in the midst of field collapse they still held it. Trian would never allow it"
"Yes yes, i know. But these humans are nothing like anything we have seen before"
"So I've heard, but it can't all be true....."
"Well.. the Ancklelots in particular are pushing for an immediate cancelation. They are worried that the humans might not be able to control themselves"
"They can't be serious..?"
"Yes, they surely are. And honestly, I'm afraid for them as well... "
"Don't tell me you think it should be canceled too" Reta stammered
"Well... it is not completely uncalled for." His voice trailed off, but Reta quickly interjected
"Well I can't believe that, of all people. Your not seriously proposing discommunication"
"You haven't seen the files Reta" His eyes drew in close, and he leaned forward
"They have fields and fields of animals that they keep.. and when they get hungry.."
Reta's mouse closed tight
"... Look, I can't say anymore, but the council is worried that if the humans come to the conference...."
He looked over his shoulder, then leant closer to Reta
"That they will want to add us to their collection, and harvest us as well"
Reta's face fell white. Footsteps came from the right and Gregor turned away from Reta and welcomed the newcommer. Reta could hardly look as they discussed the weather and what they had both been up to this past year. Reta's mind raced to tomorrow morning when she would be welcoming the humans to the council.
"All ready for tomorrow morning then I trust "
Reta nodded then quickly excused herself. What was she going to do she asked herself over and over.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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"Amit Lenscher?" The human didn't pause his oddly bent stride or shift in the darkness to face the many-limbed speaker, seeming instead to address the darkness ahead of him as the two continued to move. Errev had gotten past their annoyance at the unintentional insult days ago - the human had no way of knowing how long their name had once been, and they weren't about to volunteer so personal a shame - but Lenscher's sudden shift to rough informality was still an unnerving symptom of his asocial focus in the face of crisis. Errev knew that humans preferred - like his own people - to communicate visually as well as verbally. They valued eye contact, gestural signalling, the rituals of meeting and knowing and speaking. But Errev was coming to understand that the humans valued a lot of things they didn't necessarily need.
"Rev? You hurt?" The truncation of their name made Errev bristle less than it had at first, but the second part - the question of their health - stiffened every fiber on the backs of their dominant arms. Was it an expression of concern, or a probing for weakness? Errev could no longer be generous with assumptions toward his companion.
"No. I am not hurt, Amit Lenscher. Not more than before. I wanted to ask you a question." The human continued to move through the cramped passage ahead of Errev, slowing only to shovel debris aside with the flat of his damaged left forelimb. Eventually he spoke again, still moving. Always moving.
"Ask it then." The voice seemed quieter than had been expected, and Errev realized that they had been falling behind. Again. After scrambling back into the subtle heat that said the leading biped was close at hand Errev collected themselves and spoke:
"Before the attack we spent three months at your equatorial embassy together. You slept a quarter of every day, mainly through the darkness. Most of your people slept even more." Lenscher paused and straightened his back somewhat under the low ceiling of the channel, the first time he'd done either in three hours. The last was only for the twenty seconds it had taken him to defecate. Errev's momentary panic at the thought of that smell finding its way again to their olfactory gills was cut short as the human spoke, massaging a series of gunfire-like pops out of his working hand and non-working wrist as he did so.
"We do. Most of us need seven or eight hours of sleep a day." Errev waited for the vibration of Lenscher's oddly explosive joints to settle out of his jaw before replying.
"But you've been moving - with an injury, no less - for almost three days. In the dark. You've not slept. You haven't had anything to eat or drink. How?" Lenscher arched his back for a moment, then settled back into the crouching lope he'd maintained for most of the past 70 hours and continued down the half-collapsed cabling barrel. Errev tasted the human's increasingly acrid breath in the eddies of the tunnel's humid atmosphere as it slid across their arms and back for several moments, painting a mental picture of Lenscher's battered body receding at an almost machine-like pace into in the distance before scrambling again to catch up. Eventually the human spoke again.
"Lack of it - any of it you mentioned, that'll kill me eventually. Water I'll need sooner than the others, or something with water in it that won't make me too sick. I've been sucking condensation out of my shirt collar to stretch that out along the way but that's mostly just dirt and my own sweat now. Should make it to the switching station before it catches up to me though. Was 40 kilometers from the embassy, give or take. We're at least 30 in by now. I've been through worse. ...Not by much, but I have." There was a somberness beyond circumstance in those last words that Errev suspected meant the conversation had reached its end, but Lenscher continued after a moment's pause. "What about you, Rev? Gonna make it?" The undertones of the human's voice were muffled by the close quarters, but there was an something threatening in the way the new words rolled across the walls. Sharper, smoother, more penetrating. The human was smiling. Errev's arms ached. When they spoke again it was barely a whisper.
"I am a sentry, a guardian. A soldier. You are a diplomat. You have short days, short lives, and soft bodies. You want for great comforts. But what you need is so much less than what you desire. I see you now under such great pressure, moving still. Hunting. It frightens, Amit Lenscher. It terrifies." Enameled teeth flashed mirthlessly in the gloom, infrared reflections of sound and warmth half lost in the darkness swimming at the edge of Errev's surrogate sight.
"We were so happy to not be alone in the universe, you know. To find someone else out there. Someone not like us." Errev chittered in horror. "Don't worry, Rev. We're in this together. I'm not so bad off as I made it sound before. I know you're having trouble keeping up. If you need to sleep, sleep. I can wait."
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The annual introduction to the "Galatic Committee of Intelligent Life" was starting in a couple days and would welcome 7 new species to the continuum. Apart from a few exceptions, they are a calm and peaceful time with lots of showcases from the new cultures that were joining. They have been running for almost 250 years, however this one was most perciluar.
The conference was normally alive with energy and laughter. This year though was unusually quiet. Groups hurried off in small clumps, keeping to themselves in hushed voices. The very air itself hung heavy, trapping the voices in its weight.
The subject of every conversation was the 6th group to join. People hushed in quite tones,
"I've got to share you something about the Humans before tomorrow, you should know." Gregor said, scanning the distance for anyone that might overhear him.
"Yes, yes, what have you seen?" Reta's eyes danced across his face, looking for the faintest hints
"Well.. you know I'm not meant to share anything until the official ceremony...."
His eyes drew down to hers.
"But... of all people, I believe you should know what you are getting yourself into... most of what you are hearing is true, I'm not sure if the council will call off the conference"
Reta almost mouth let out a gasp, but she was quick to conceal it.
"Call off the conference?" she stammered. "But they've never called off the conference. Even in the midst of field collapse they still held it. Trian would never allow it"
"Yes yes, i know. But these humans are nothing like anything we have seen before"
"So I've heard, but it can't all be true....."
"Well.. the Ancklelots in particular are pushing for an immediate cancelation. They are worried that the humans might not be able to control themselves"
"They can't be serious..?"
"Yes, they surely are. And honestly, I'm afraid for them as well... "
"Don't tell me you think it should be canceled too" Reta stammered
"Well... it is not completely uncalled for." His voice trailed off, but Reta quickly interjected
"Well I can't believe that, of all people. Your not seriously proposing discommunication"
"You haven't seen the files Reta" His eyes drew in close, and he leaned forward
"They have fields and fields of animals that they keep.. and when they get hungry.."
Reta's mouse closed tight
"... Look, I can't say anymore, but the council is worried that if the humans come to the conference...."
He looked over his shoulder, then leant closer to Reta
"That they will want to add us to their collection, and harvest us as well"
Reta's face fell white. Footsteps came from the right and Gregor turned away from Reta and welcomed the newcommer. Reta could hardly look as they discussed the weather and what they had both been up to this past year. Reta's mind raced to tomorrow morning when she would be welcoming the humans to the council.
"All ready for tomorrow morning then I trust "
Reta nodded then quickly excused herself. What was she going to do she asked herself over and over.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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First contact was... uneventful. Initially. We landed on their planet, in one of several areas lightly populated by them, but by no means devoid of native life as a whole. It only took three or four rotations before we caught sight of two of them, surprisingly well camouflaged and apparently hunting some local herbivores with effective, if primitive, chemically propelled projectile weapons. Still, it's not like predatory intelligent species are rare. We spotted them, they spotted us, and we retreated, according to standard protocol. A "cooling off" period. What we didn't count on was just how different their niche in their original ecosystem was.
There we were, relaxed, at what we thought was a safe distance, when we heard a rustle and a snap, and one of them was suddenly less than 10 body lengths from us! Apparently, unlike **every** other intelligent species we've encountered, their first instinct when they encounter something they've never seen before is to immediately pursue it. And they are **great** at it. Most of the reasonably sized creatures we've observed on their planet transport themselves on four limbs. A proper, reasonable number, enough for stability, even in the event of a wound, with an extended, fifth limb, for balance. These sapients though, they bound around on only their two lower limbs, which are huge and heavily muscled, and unlike all the other species we've seen, have huge, muscled posteriors, to make sure they don't fall over every time they lurch around unbalanced.
We scattered, and traveled before resting again, but almost as soon as we set down, there they were again! And it happened again, and again! Every time we needed to stop, or rest, before we had time to even calm down, there they were! They only slowed down when it got dark! After another revolution like this, we figured out that their intelligence seems fine-tuned to spot the practically insignificant changes other animals make to the environment as they pass through it. What kind of crazy evolutionary advantage is that!? Here we were, running every time they got close, and they were just lazily spotting our paths through the vegetation, and following us at a leisurely pace. What's really crazy is they didn't even really stop to rest, except at night. They barely paused to do things as important as eating and drinking, nevermind excretion. They just **kept** *going*. It was terrifying.
We came with a full kit, on a faster-than-light ship, and we were being outsmarted and ruthlessly followed by just two totally isolated humans, with barely any of the technology or support we know they thrive on as a society. Eventually, we had to accept that protocol just wasn't going to cut it. We were being hunted, and all our technology and preparation wasn't going to help us escape. We couldn't risk leading them back to the landing craft, and we couldn't get far enough ahead to use it without them seeing the lift-off.
So, we set traps. I know, I know, horrifying, right? The idea of having to make the basic language analysis and first greeting with one party in a net or cage? But you have to understand, we were exhausted, even at night, when we knew they had to rest, we couldn't let our guard down. It was always just a matter of time until they knew exactly where we were. The entire team started experiencing anxiety symptoms! So we pushed, hard, to get enough extra distance for the preparations. We even managed some redundancies. This was going to work. And then, we heard the first trap go off. I scouted out, personally, to check the trap, but before I even got close, there they were! both of them, just...standing there, looking at it. Moving their primary intake orifices, using what we'd already surmised was their primary natural communication system.
>(note: translation provided from logs, based on linguistic data acquired at a later date, I had **no** idea what they were saying at the time)
>"You think some other hunter left this out?"
>"...no, that'd be really irresponsible, no one's close enough to check them."
>"hmm, you're right."
>"I'm telling you man, these things looked weird. I could swear they were **wearing** things."
>"like...clothes?"
It was at this point that I'd decided I'd captured enough data on their communication, for now, and that I needed to fall back to the group. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and nerves got the better of me, and I gave away my position, somehow. I don't even know, but suddenly their communications ceased and they were looking **right** at me. I sprinted off, figuring they'd follow at their leisure, but something was different this time. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I encountered something biologically familiar for us: being chased, actually chased, not the terrifying chain-of-surprises nonsense. But by this point... I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't get ahead. Even if I had...they would have just found me again. So I beat a path straight back to the group. The first sighting protocol had failed, horrifically, but at least as a group, with our basic wild-life defense weapons we might be able to survive.
I collapsed out of the brush and into the circle of the rest of my team, still able to hear those bizarre bipeds crashing behind me. We grouped up, for once, expecting when and where they'd appear, ready to fight for our lives. We couldn't expect a predator like this, one that clearly thrived on utterly dominating its prey to just leave us be when they caught up to us in mere moments. And with a final crash, there they were. The two of them. Just...standing and staring at us, silently. After a few, tense moments, they communicated to one another, without taking their eyes off us:
>"duuuude, I **told** you!"
>"*what* are these things!?"
And then, they did the absolute last thing we expected, they put their weapons away, behind them, and crouched down, making themselves smaller! It was like just now, after fraying our every instinct, pushing us to exhaustion and utterly terrifying us, now, they didn't want to intimidate us. They even lowered the intensity of their communication, softening it, somehow.
>"Look, they're exhausted, and huddled up like that? They look like they're terrified."
>"Hey, there, you guys, alright? We've had you on the ropes for a while now, haven't we?"
---
oh man, my first ever submission to a writing prompt, plus it's been forever since I did any kind of creative writing. I might write another one for this prompt, no one seems to have put humans on a more equal footing with the aliens, which is something I'm generally a fan of.
Edited for some typos and formatting.
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The annual introduction to the "Galatic Committee of Intelligent Life" was starting in a couple days and would welcome 7 new species to the continuum. Apart from a few exceptions, they are a calm and peaceful time with lots of showcases from the new cultures that were joining. They have been running for almost 250 years, however this one was most perciluar.
The conference was normally alive with energy and laughter. This year though was unusually quiet. Groups hurried off in small clumps, keeping to themselves in hushed voices. The very air itself hung heavy, trapping the voices in its weight.
The subject of every conversation was the 6th group to join. People hushed in quite tones,
"I've got to share you something about the Humans before tomorrow, you should know." Gregor said, scanning the distance for anyone that might overhear him.
"Yes, yes, what have you seen?" Reta's eyes danced across his face, looking for the faintest hints
"Well.. you know I'm not meant to share anything until the official ceremony...."
His eyes drew down to hers.
"But... of all people, I believe you should know what you are getting yourself into... most of what you are hearing is true, I'm not sure if the council will call off the conference"
Reta almost mouth let out a gasp, but she was quick to conceal it.
"Call off the conference?" she stammered. "But they've never called off the conference. Even in the midst of field collapse they still held it. Trian would never allow it"
"Yes yes, i know. But these humans are nothing like anything we have seen before"
"So I've heard, but it can't all be true....."
"Well.. the Ancklelots in particular are pushing for an immediate cancelation. They are worried that the humans might not be able to control themselves"
"They can't be serious..?"
"Yes, they surely are. And honestly, I'm afraid for them as well... "
"Don't tell me you think it should be canceled too" Reta stammered
"Well... it is not completely uncalled for." His voice trailed off, but Reta quickly interjected
"Well I can't believe that, of all people. Your not seriously proposing discommunication"
"You haven't seen the files Reta" His eyes drew in close, and he leaned forward
"They have fields and fields of animals that they keep.. and when they get hungry.."
Reta's mouse closed tight
"... Look, I can't say anymore, but the council is worried that if the humans come to the conference...."
He looked over his shoulder, then leant closer to Reta
"That they will want to add us to their collection, and harvest us as well"
Reta's face fell white. Footsteps came from the right and Gregor turned away from Reta and welcomed the newcommer. Reta could hardly look as they discussed the weather and what they had both been up to this past year. Reta's mind raced to tomorrow morning when she would be welcoming the humans to the council.
"All ready for tomorrow morning then I trust "
Reta nodded then quickly excused herself. What was she going to do she asked herself over and over.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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Incident 2541@ Re: Human Terror at Morpark Station
Present are Counselor Teeva of the Xenobiology Dept assigned to the Contact Division, Advocates Kor and Mindek of the Guardian Corp as well as various members of the Cultural Dept, Contact.
We're also graced by His Excellency the Arbitrator Krevak of the Royal Academy, who is here to mediate and offer his esteemed recommendations regarding Incident 2541@.
Advocate Kor: Counselor Teeva, can you please explain in your own words what happened at Morpark Station.
Counselor Teeva: Yes, Advocate. Thank you for providing this forum for me to present this case.
AK: Counselor Teeva, this isn't a case, we're evaluating this incident before recommending any pending cases per the esteemed Arbiter. *bows slightly towards the Arbiter who responds with a slight nod and a wave of his manipulator*
CT: Yes, thank you for the clarification. So, yes, to begin, I want to stress that Human James did not cause the Incident. In fact, he was a victim...
AK: *interrupting* You're saying he didn't cause widespread panic at the Marketplace of Morpark Station, severely injured 3 high ranking members of the Military and threatened an Archon's life?
CT: Well, he did do all that, but he didn't mean to?
AK: *sighs* Are you asking me if he did or didn't or are you telling me?
CT: I know it sounds bad when you list the outcome of his actions, but he certainly didn't start it, it was all due to Archon Litia provoking him.
AK: And how does an Archon provoke a human?
CT: By attacking that humans friend.
Advocate Mindek: And who would that be?
CT: Me?
AM: Please explain.
CT: Human James and I were at an Ice fruit stall, one of our few food items that humans can eat and love. I was explaining to James the different varieties when the Archon jostled me.
AK: The Archon had to reprimand you? Counselor Teeva certainly does not seem to be ill raised to be offer such disrespect.
CT: Unfortunately, I was not paying attention to my surroundings since I needed to focus almost completely when communicating with Human James. You see, Humans do not communicate with scents at all. They use their voice but they also use their face and manipulators to modify their meanings. If I were not focusing on their manipulators, the meaning of what they say can be entirely different.
AK: so they do not emphasize their words with scents? How inefficient.
CT: Its different, Advocate. I find a certain richness to their communication and am impressed by how... *compressed*their communication can be. Unfortunately, I was so engrossed in my communication with Human James that I had missed the warning scent from the Archon and did not move out of his way.
AK: so he jostled you. I understand why you were re-missed. You must have been terribly embarrassed. *scent of forgiveness and empathy wafting out*
CT: I was. I immediately abased myself to the Archon for my transgression.
Mindek: It was at this point when the Incident began. If everyone can turn their attention to the viewscreen, we'll review a recording of the Incident. Scent reproduction has been provided and I must issue a warning that a level 7 terror scent is part of the recording, if you do not wish to partake in that part of the recording, we have provided a scent free area to my left.
A force screen area of the evaluation room is highlighted, yet no one moves into it as everyone is interested a level 7 terror scent, even if its just an approximation.
The viewscreen shows an overhead view of the fruit stall from Station Security. In it, the Archon is seen bumping into Counselor Teeva. A jostle, used to teach younglings to reprimand an underling. In this case, the Archon had been especially harsh as having to reprimand an adult is usually unlikely. Counselor Teeva is seen shoved into the stall, knocking over some display items. All of the residents around brayed a bit and bowed their heads to the Archon. Counselor Teeva gets back on her feet and immediately abases herself as she sees she's offended an Archon. scents of her submission as well as stern disapproval from the surrounding people is replicated by the viewscreen.
The Archon sniffs to indicate his displeasure and proceeds to continue giving Counselor Teeva a final jostle.
Human James had shouted at the first jostle and was attempting to lift the much heavier and bigger Counselor Teeva from her abased position. At the second jostle, which also caused him to fall onto his backside, he shouted again. Most of the viewers laugh a bit seeing the slim unbalanced looking alien toppling over. How does one even stand much less do anything as a biped?
What happened next stopped their laughter. Human James quickly scrambles to his two feet and used one of his manipulators to grab onto the Archon's carrying harness. He shouts something in Human, while the Archon issues a shocked grunt and fright scent.
AK: Stop. *recording pauses* Counselor Teeva, what's happening here.
CT: Humans do not jostle each other. They have a very strong aversion to others entering a certain perimeter from them. To him, it looked like I was being attacked by the Archon.
AM: are they not herd creatures? do they not enjoy proximity?
CT: They are pack creatures, in that they enjoy the presences of their immediate pack, or creatures they adopt into their pack, but even then, close proximity is limited to rare occasions. They also do not engage in jostling or physical reprimands unless its to engage in combat.
The Arbiter: I begin to see. So in this situation, the Human has adopted you into his pack and therefore has not problem with being in close proximity to you. But since he has adopted you into his pack, he also feels the urge to protect you against other predators, which he treats the Archon.
CT: you are astute, Arbiter, that is correct. Though Human James understands our culture of reprimands, in the moment, his natural instinct to protect me has come to the fore. This is why he had detained the Archon, to attempt to address the attack upon me.
Arbiter: I see. Yet, I don't understand how he would think he could do anything in a jostle against the Archon who is at least 5 times his mass and is on a more stable stance using four limbs instead of the humans bipedal stance.
CT: Humans do not jostle, sir. They understand that we do it, but as you've noted they're not built for jostling with people. But you would be surprised at how stable their stance can be when they're in their Stable Mode.
Arbiter: I've heard about their different transformations, but I can not envision how that is possible. The human body seems like a child's toy ready to topple at any second and just barely able to stay balanced as it moves.
CT: If you'll proceed with the playback, you'll see Human James enter his Stable Mode and what happens later. Its fascinating once you see how they do it.
Video continues. Human James grabs the Archon's harness and, incredibly, restricts the Archons forward motion as he spreads his legs open wider and bends his knee. His form suddenly the very definition of stableness. He tugs and the Archon turns a bit to the side, stubby legs scrabbling for purchase on the station floor. The Archon's two guards, rush to his aid.
What happens next stuns the viewers. As the two subordinates rush to the Archon's aid, Human James snaps his head towards them. Even those unfamiliar with human expressions can see him calculating the direction and speed of the two approaching people. Quicker than a demon he has determined the optimum response and jumps towards them. It was at this time also that the Terror scent erupts from the approximator. The people in the playback all shout and back away. The viewers are horrified and some even piss where they stand. Shouts, screams, flight, submission, murderdeathkill, wantmomma scents are variously sprayed by the audience.
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No. It wasn't possible.
"Hide, now!" His companions, the few remaining, dived into the shadows as quickly as their exhausted bodies could manage, and lay there, unmoving.
The 14th expeditionary unit had engaged in a standard cross-species joint task force: the mission was basic planetside infestation cleanup. Textbook. And he knew, he *knew* these alien bastards gleefully killed each other constantly. So what if most of them had been little runts, this time around?
What difference could that possibly make? The alien arrived after they were mostly done -- it was so slow, compared to them. They finished off the last few while the alien stood there, saying nothing. Then it turned on them, the vicious little animal.
The alien took three of his unit before they realized what had happened. Though he mourned the loss of those soldiers, he was proud of the fast reaction of those remaining. Despite its betrayal and subterfuge, they rallied and shot it, piercing its strange, soft exoskeleton and releasing what seemed like gallons of the disgusting ichor its species used as a circulatory fluid.
The ichor stank, like the metallic undercarriage in a poorly maintained reactor room. They abandoned its slumped over corpse and began heading toward the ship. At the time, his chief concern had been all the paperwork this cock-up would entail. Paperwork! He grimaced at the memory.
They had paused for their standard travel break after one hour of travel. Less than an hour travel time remaining, and they'd be back in their ship and on their way home. It had been an intense mission, clocking in at just under 4 hours to cover all that ground.
An enormous energy reserve expenditure, to be sure, but the elite training regimen he and his soldiers had gone through had conditioned them to endure more than most could. A similar mission with ordinary soldiers might take almost a standard day, allowing for proper rest periods.
At last, the ship was in sight. His scout alerted them first. "Sir, is that? It can't be." He turned and snatched her proffered optical enhancer. It was. Somehow, impossibly, the alien had beaten them to the ship. It had wrapped itself in some sort of cloth where it had been shot. He was not sure of the cloth's purpose; surely that couldn't be all its exoskeleton required to bind a penetrating wound? How was it even still alive?
He was no expert on alien emotion, but the creature looked ... angry. His weapons were no good at that range, and it must be that the alien was at death's door. "Disable the alien's weapon access code and withdraw. It will soon collapse and we can finish it off easily enough."
Those words haunted him now. It had been 11 brutal hours of chase and increasingly insuffient rest. His companions had begun dropping, near comatose from exhaustion. To his everlasting shame, he ordered his soldiers to leave the exhausted where they lay and carry on.
Slowly, inevitably, the distance narrowed between them, until the creature could be seen without enhancement. It stooped down over the latest fallen, disgusting keratin strands falling around its upper thorax. Then, once again, the creature raised the bony extensions on the ends of its upper limbs. And once again, with no way to stop it, it brought them down, over and over, beating his soldier to death. Breaking him apart.
More alien ichor spattered his companion's broken body as the monster continued. If he had any stomach contents left to void, he would have done so.
And now. Now, it was the end. He watched in helpless horror as the creature advanced on this, their final resting place. He looked at the alien's glistening brown exoskeleton. It was covered in a vile mixture of dirt, some disgusting, clear liquid excretion, and the creature's own circulatory fluid. No, not a true exoskeleton. Skin, he thought they called it. Its terrifying, huge optical organs stared pitilessly ahead. It had only two eyes.
Like a normal creature twisted and contorted into an unnatural state, it walked upright, stalking around on the two limbs attached to its lower abdomen. As it caught sight of their hiding place, part of the alien's skin curled away from the vicious biomineralizations in its feeding orifice.
Edit: My first time doing a story prompt here, I think. Hope you enjoy! On mobile, so bear with formatting.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
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"Amit Lenscher?" The human didn't pause his oddly bent stride or shift in the darkness to face the many-limbed speaker, seeming instead to address the darkness ahead of him as the two continued to move. Errev had gotten past their annoyance at the unintentional insult days ago - the human had no way of knowing how long their name had once been, and they weren't about to volunteer so personal a shame - but Lenscher's sudden shift to rough informality was still an unnerving symptom of his asocial focus in the face of crisis. Errev knew that humans preferred - like his own people - to communicate visually as well as verbally. They valued eye contact, gestural signalling, the rituals of meeting and knowing and speaking. But Errev was coming to understand that the humans valued a lot of things they didn't necessarily need.
"Rev? You hurt?" The truncation of their name made Errev bristle less than it had at first, but the second part - the question of their health - stiffened every fiber on the backs of their dominant arms. Was it an expression of concern, or a probing for weakness? Errev could no longer be generous with assumptions toward his companion.
"No. I am not hurt, Amit Lenscher. Not more than before. I wanted to ask you a question." The human continued to move through the cramped passage ahead of Errev, slowing only to shovel debris aside with the flat of his damaged left forelimb. Eventually he spoke again, still moving. Always moving.
"Ask it then." The voice seemed quieter than had been expected, and Errev realized that they had been falling behind. Again. After scrambling back into the subtle heat that said the leading biped was close at hand Errev collected themselves and spoke:
"Before the attack we spent three months at your equatorial embassy together. You slept a quarter of every day, mainly through the darkness. Most of your people slept even more." Lenscher paused and straightened his back somewhat under the low ceiling of the channel, the first time he'd done either in three hours. The last was only for the twenty seconds it had taken him to defecate. Errev's momentary panic at the thought of that smell finding its way again to their olfactory gills was cut short as the human spoke, massaging a series of gunfire-like pops out of his working hand and non-working wrist as he did so.
"We do. Most of us need seven or eight hours of sleep a day." Errev waited for the vibration of Lenscher's oddly explosive joints to settle out of his jaw before replying.
"But you've been moving - with an injury, no less - for almost three days. In the dark. You've not slept. You haven't had anything to eat or drink. How?" Lenscher arched his back for a moment, then settled back into the crouching lope he'd maintained for most of the past 70 hours and continued down the half-collapsed cabling barrel. Errev tasted the human's increasingly acrid breath in the eddies of the tunnel's humid atmosphere as it slid across their arms and back for several moments, painting a mental picture of Lenscher's battered body receding at an almost machine-like pace into in the distance before scrambling again to catch up. Eventually the human spoke again.
"Lack of it - any of it you mentioned, that'll kill me eventually. Water I'll need sooner than the others, or something with water in it that won't make me too sick. I've been sucking condensation out of my shirt collar to stretch that out along the way but that's mostly just dirt and my own sweat now. Should make it to the switching station before it catches up to me though. Was 40 kilometers from the embassy, give or take. We're at least 30 in by now. I've been through worse. ...Not by much, but I have." There was a somberness beyond circumstance in those last words that Errev suspected meant the conversation had reached its end, but Lenscher continued after a moment's pause. "What about you, Rev? Gonna make it?" The undertones of the human's voice were muffled by the close quarters, but there was an something threatening in the way the new words rolled across the walls. Sharper, smoother, more penetrating. The human was smiling. Errev's arms ached. When they spoke again it was barely a whisper.
"I am a sentry, a guardian. A soldier. You are a diplomat. You have short days, short lives, and soft bodies. You want for great comforts. But what you need is so much less than what you desire. I see you now under such great pressure, moving still. Hunting. It frightens, Amit Lenscher. It terrifies." Enameled teeth flashed mirthlessly in the gloom, infrared reflections of sound and warmth half lost in the darkness swimming at the edge of Errev's surrogate sight.
"We were so happy to not be alone in the universe, you know. To find someone else out there. Someone not like us." Errev chittered in horror. "Don't worry, Rev. We're in this together. I'm not so bad off as I made it sound before. I know you're having trouble keeping up. If you need to sleep, sleep. I can wait."
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No. It wasn't possible.
"Hide, now!" His companions, the few remaining, dived into the shadows as quickly as their exhausted bodies could manage, and lay there, unmoving.
The 14th expeditionary unit had engaged in a standard cross-species joint task force: the mission was basic planetside infestation cleanup. Textbook. And he knew, he *knew* these alien bastards gleefully killed each other constantly. So what if most of them had been little runts, this time around?
What difference could that possibly make? The alien arrived after they were mostly done -- it was so slow, compared to them. They finished off the last few while the alien stood there, saying nothing. Then it turned on them, the vicious little animal.
The alien took three of his unit before they realized what had happened. Though he mourned the loss of those soldiers, he was proud of the fast reaction of those remaining. Despite its betrayal and subterfuge, they rallied and shot it, piercing its strange, soft exoskeleton and releasing what seemed like gallons of the disgusting ichor its species used as a circulatory fluid.
The ichor stank, like the metallic undercarriage in a poorly maintained reactor room. They abandoned its slumped over corpse and began heading toward the ship. At the time, his chief concern had been all the paperwork this cock-up would entail. Paperwork! He grimaced at the memory.
They had paused for their standard travel break after one hour of travel. Less than an hour travel time remaining, and they'd be back in their ship and on their way home. It had been an intense mission, clocking in at just under 4 hours to cover all that ground.
An enormous energy reserve expenditure, to be sure, but the elite training regimen he and his soldiers had gone through had conditioned them to endure more than most could. A similar mission with ordinary soldiers might take almost a standard day, allowing for proper rest periods.
At last, the ship was in sight. His scout alerted them first. "Sir, is that? It can't be." He turned and snatched her proffered optical enhancer. It was. Somehow, impossibly, the alien had beaten them to the ship. It had wrapped itself in some sort of cloth where it had been shot. He was not sure of the cloth's purpose; surely that couldn't be all its exoskeleton required to bind a penetrating wound? How was it even still alive?
He was no expert on alien emotion, but the creature looked ... angry. His weapons were no good at that range, and it must be that the alien was at death's door. "Disable the alien's weapon access code and withdraw. It will soon collapse and we can finish it off easily enough."
Those words haunted him now. It had been 11 brutal hours of chase and increasingly insuffient rest. His companions had begun dropping, near comatose from exhaustion. To his everlasting shame, he ordered his soldiers to leave the exhausted where they lay and carry on.
Slowly, inevitably, the distance narrowed between them, until the creature could be seen without enhancement. It stooped down over the latest fallen, disgusting keratin strands falling around its upper thorax. Then, once again, the creature raised the bony extensions on the ends of its upper limbs. And once again, with no way to stop it, it brought them down, over and over, beating his soldier to death. Breaking him apart.
More alien ichor spattered his companion's broken body as the monster continued. If he had any stomach contents left to void, he would have done so.
And now. Now, it was the end. He watched in helpless horror as the creature advanced on this, their final resting place. He looked at the alien's glistening brown exoskeleton. It was covered in a vile mixture of dirt, some disgusting, clear liquid excretion, and the creature's own circulatory fluid. No, not a true exoskeleton. Skin, he thought they called it. Its terrifying, huge optical organs stared pitilessly ahead. It had only two eyes.
Like a normal creature twisted and contorted into an unnatural state, it walked upright, stalking around on the two limbs attached to its lower abdomen. As it caught sight of their hiding place, part of the alien's skin curled away from the vicious biomineralizations in its feeding orifice.
Edit: My first time doing a story prompt here, I think. Hope you enjoy! On mobile, so bear with formatting.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
|
First contact was... uneventful. Initially. We landed on their planet, in one of several areas lightly populated by them, but by no means devoid of native life as a whole. It only took three or four rotations before we caught sight of two of them, surprisingly well camouflaged and apparently hunting some local herbivores with effective, if primitive, chemically propelled projectile weapons. Still, it's not like predatory intelligent species are rare. We spotted them, they spotted us, and we retreated, according to standard protocol. A "cooling off" period. What we didn't count on was just how different their niche in their original ecosystem was.
There we were, relaxed, at what we thought was a safe distance, when we heard a rustle and a snap, and one of them was suddenly less than 10 body lengths from us! Apparently, unlike **every** other intelligent species we've encountered, their first instinct when they encounter something they've never seen before is to immediately pursue it. And they are **great** at it. Most of the reasonably sized creatures we've observed on their planet transport themselves on four limbs. A proper, reasonable number, enough for stability, even in the event of a wound, with an extended, fifth limb, for balance. These sapients though, they bound around on only their two lower limbs, which are huge and heavily muscled, and unlike all the other species we've seen, have huge, muscled posteriors, to make sure they don't fall over every time they lurch around unbalanced.
We scattered, and traveled before resting again, but almost as soon as we set down, there they were again! And it happened again, and again! Every time we needed to stop, or rest, before we had time to even calm down, there they were! They only slowed down when it got dark! After another revolution like this, we figured out that their intelligence seems fine-tuned to spot the practically insignificant changes other animals make to the environment as they pass through it. What kind of crazy evolutionary advantage is that!? Here we were, running every time they got close, and they were just lazily spotting our paths through the vegetation, and following us at a leisurely pace. What's really crazy is they didn't even really stop to rest, except at night. They barely paused to do things as important as eating and drinking, nevermind excretion. They just **kept** *going*. It was terrifying.
We came with a full kit, on a faster-than-light ship, and we were being outsmarted and ruthlessly followed by just two totally isolated humans, with barely any of the technology or support we know they thrive on as a society. Eventually, we had to accept that protocol just wasn't going to cut it. We were being hunted, and all our technology and preparation wasn't going to help us escape. We couldn't risk leading them back to the landing craft, and we couldn't get far enough ahead to use it without them seeing the lift-off.
So, we set traps. I know, I know, horrifying, right? The idea of having to make the basic language analysis and first greeting with one party in a net or cage? But you have to understand, we were exhausted, even at night, when we knew they had to rest, we couldn't let our guard down. It was always just a matter of time until they knew exactly where we were. The entire team started experiencing anxiety symptoms! So we pushed, hard, to get enough extra distance for the preparations. We even managed some redundancies. This was going to work. And then, we heard the first trap go off. I scouted out, personally, to check the trap, but before I even got close, there they were! both of them, just...standing there, looking at it. Moving their primary intake orifices, using what we'd already surmised was their primary natural communication system.
>(note: translation provided from logs, based on linguistic data acquired at a later date, I had **no** idea what they were saying at the time)
>"You think some other hunter left this out?"
>"...no, that'd be really irresponsible, no one's close enough to check them."
>"hmm, you're right."
>"I'm telling you man, these things looked weird. I could swear they were **wearing** things."
>"like...clothes?"
It was at this point that I'd decided I'd captured enough data on their communication, for now, and that I needed to fall back to the group. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and nerves got the better of me, and I gave away my position, somehow. I don't even know, but suddenly their communications ceased and they were looking **right** at me. I sprinted off, figuring they'd follow at their leisure, but something was different this time. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I encountered something biologically familiar for us: being chased, actually chased, not the terrifying chain-of-surprises nonsense. But by this point... I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't get ahead. Even if I had...they would have just found me again. So I beat a path straight back to the group. The first sighting protocol had failed, horrifically, but at least as a group, with our basic wild-life defense weapons we might be able to survive.
I collapsed out of the brush and into the circle of the rest of my team, still able to hear those bizarre bipeds crashing behind me. We grouped up, for once, expecting when and where they'd appear, ready to fight for our lives. We couldn't expect a predator like this, one that clearly thrived on utterly dominating its prey to just leave us be when they caught up to us in mere moments. And with a final crash, there they were. The two of them. Just...standing and staring at us, silently. After a few, tense moments, they communicated to one another, without taking their eyes off us:
>"duuuude, I **told** you!"
>"*what* are these things!?"
And then, they did the absolute last thing we expected, they put their weapons away, behind them, and crouched down, making themselves smaller! It was like just now, after fraying our every instinct, pushing us to exhaustion and utterly terrifying us, now, they didn't want to intimidate us. They even lowered the intensity of their communication, softening it, somehow.
>"Look, they're exhausted, and huddled up like that? They look like they're terrified."
>"Hey, there, you guys, alright? We've had you on the ropes for a while now, haven't we?"
---
oh man, my first ever submission to a writing prompt, plus it's been forever since I did any kind of creative writing. I might write another one for this prompt, no one seems to have put humans on a more equal footing with the aliens, which is something I'm generally a fan of.
Edited for some typos and formatting.
|
No. It wasn't possible.
"Hide, now!" His companions, the few remaining, dived into the shadows as quickly as their exhausted bodies could manage, and lay there, unmoving.
The 14th expeditionary unit had engaged in a standard cross-species joint task force: the mission was basic planetside infestation cleanup. Textbook. And he knew, he *knew* these alien bastards gleefully killed each other constantly. So what if most of them had been little runts, this time around?
What difference could that possibly make? The alien arrived after they were mostly done -- it was so slow, compared to them. They finished off the last few while the alien stood there, saying nothing. Then it turned on them, the vicious little animal.
The alien took three of his unit before they realized what had happened. Though he mourned the loss of those soldiers, he was proud of the fast reaction of those remaining. Despite its betrayal and subterfuge, they rallied and shot it, piercing its strange, soft exoskeleton and releasing what seemed like gallons of the disgusting ichor its species used as a circulatory fluid.
The ichor stank, like the metallic undercarriage in a poorly maintained reactor room. They abandoned its slumped over corpse and began heading toward the ship. At the time, his chief concern had been all the paperwork this cock-up would entail. Paperwork! He grimaced at the memory.
They had paused for their standard travel break after one hour of travel. Less than an hour travel time remaining, and they'd be back in their ship and on their way home. It had been an intense mission, clocking in at just under 4 hours to cover all that ground.
An enormous energy reserve expenditure, to be sure, but the elite training regimen he and his soldiers had gone through had conditioned them to endure more than most could. A similar mission with ordinary soldiers might take almost a standard day, allowing for proper rest periods.
At last, the ship was in sight. His scout alerted them first. "Sir, is that? It can't be." He turned and snatched her proffered optical enhancer. It was. Somehow, impossibly, the alien had beaten them to the ship. It had wrapped itself in some sort of cloth where it had been shot. He was not sure of the cloth's purpose; surely that couldn't be all its exoskeleton required to bind a penetrating wound? How was it even still alive?
He was no expert on alien emotion, but the creature looked ... angry. His weapons were no good at that range, and it must be that the alien was at death's door. "Disable the alien's weapon access code and withdraw. It will soon collapse and we can finish it off easily enough."
Those words haunted him now. It had been 11 brutal hours of chase and increasingly insuffient rest. His companions had begun dropping, near comatose from exhaustion. To his everlasting shame, he ordered his soldiers to leave the exhausted where they lay and carry on.
Slowly, inevitably, the distance narrowed between them, until the creature could be seen without enhancement. It stooped down over the latest fallen, disgusting keratin strands falling around its upper thorax. Then, once again, the creature raised the bony extensions on the ends of its upper limbs. And once again, with no way to stop it, it brought them down, over and over, beating his soldier to death. Breaking him apart.
More alien ichor spattered his companion's broken body as the monster continued. If he had any stomach contents left to void, he would have done so.
And now. Now, it was the end. He watched in helpless horror as the creature advanced on this, their final resting place. He looked at the alien's glistening brown exoskeleton. It was covered in a vile mixture of dirt, some disgusting, clear liquid excretion, and the creature's own circulatory fluid. No, not a true exoskeleton. Skin, he thought they called it. Its terrifying, huge optical organs stared pitilessly ahead. It had only two eyes.
Like a normal creature twisted and contorted into an unnatural state, it walked upright, stalking around on the two limbs attached to its lower abdomen. As it caught sight of their hiding place, part of the alien's skin curled away from the vicious biomineralizations in its feeding orifice.
Edit: My first time doing a story prompt here, I think. Hope you enjoy! On mobile, so bear with formatting.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
|
"Amit Lenscher?" The human didn't pause his oddly bent stride or shift in the darkness to face the many-limbed speaker, seeming instead to address the darkness ahead of him as the two continued to move. Errev had gotten past their annoyance at the unintentional insult days ago - the human had no way of knowing how long their name had once been, and they weren't about to volunteer so personal a shame - but Lenscher's sudden shift to rough informality was still an unnerving symptom of his asocial focus in the face of crisis. Errev knew that humans preferred - like his own people - to communicate visually as well as verbally. They valued eye contact, gestural signalling, the rituals of meeting and knowing and speaking. But Errev was coming to understand that the humans valued a lot of things they didn't necessarily need.
"Rev? You hurt?" The truncation of their name made Errev bristle less than it had at first, but the second part - the question of their health - stiffened every fiber on the backs of their dominant arms. Was it an expression of concern, or a probing for weakness? Errev could no longer be generous with assumptions toward his companion.
"No. I am not hurt, Amit Lenscher. Not more than before. I wanted to ask you a question." The human continued to move through the cramped passage ahead of Errev, slowing only to shovel debris aside with the flat of his damaged left forelimb. Eventually he spoke again, still moving. Always moving.
"Ask it then." The voice seemed quieter than had been expected, and Errev realized that they had been falling behind. Again. After scrambling back into the subtle heat that said the leading biped was close at hand Errev collected themselves and spoke:
"Before the attack we spent three months at your equatorial embassy together. You slept a quarter of every day, mainly through the darkness. Most of your people slept even more." Lenscher paused and straightened his back somewhat under the low ceiling of the channel, the first time he'd done either in three hours. The last was only for the twenty seconds it had taken him to defecate. Errev's momentary panic at the thought of that smell finding its way again to their olfactory gills was cut short as the human spoke, massaging a series of gunfire-like pops out of his working hand and non-working wrist as he did so.
"We do. Most of us need seven or eight hours of sleep a day." Errev waited for the vibration of Lenscher's oddly explosive joints to settle out of his jaw before replying.
"But you've been moving - with an injury, no less - for almost three days. In the dark. You've not slept. You haven't had anything to eat or drink. How?" Lenscher arched his back for a moment, then settled back into the crouching lope he'd maintained for most of the past 70 hours and continued down the half-collapsed cabling barrel. Errev tasted the human's increasingly acrid breath in the eddies of the tunnel's humid atmosphere as it slid across their arms and back for several moments, painting a mental picture of Lenscher's battered body receding at an almost machine-like pace into in the distance before scrambling again to catch up. Eventually the human spoke again.
"Lack of it - any of it you mentioned, that'll kill me eventually. Water I'll need sooner than the others, or something with water in it that won't make me too sick. I've been sucking condensation out of my shirt collar to stretch that out along the way but that's mostly just dirt and my own sweat now. Should make it to the switching station before it catches up to me though. Was 40 kilometers from the embassy, give or take. We're at least 30 in by now. I've been through worse. ...Not by much, but I have." There was a somberness beyond circumstance in those last words that Errev suspected meant the conversation had reached its end, but Lenscher continued after a moment's pause. "What about you, Rev? Gonna make it?" The undertones of the human's voice were muffled by the close quarters, but there was an something threatening in the way the new words rolled across the walls. Sharper, smoother, more penetrating. The human was smiling. Errev's arms ached. When they spoke again it was barely a whisper.
"I am a sentry, a guardian. A soldier. You are a diplomat. You have short days, short lives, and soft bodies. You want for great comforts. But what you need is so much less than what you desire. I see you now under such great pressure, moving still. Hunting. It frightens, Amit Lenscher. It terrifies." Enameled teeth flashed mirthlessly in the gloom, infrared reflections of sound and warmth half lost in the darkness swimming at the edge of Errev's surrogate sight.
"We were so happy to not be alone in the universe, you know. To find someone else out there. Someone not like us." Errev chittered in horror. "Don't worry, Rev. We're in this together. I'm not so bad off as I made it sound before. I know you're having trouble keeping up. If you need to sleep, sleep. I can wait."
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zorax's audio recording log. day 12 of the Sol system scouting party.
"there is supposed to be a planet here with an oxygen atmosphere right? how the tell does that even happen? isnt oxygen supposed to be extremely corrosive and bonds to practically everything? Hynox, you're our chemist care to let me in on this?"
"no clue, nothing we know of should be able to geologically create oxygen on this scale, and long range scans show plenty of things for it to bond to on the surface. thats what we are here to find out."
approximately 6 hours later
"hey the closer we get the more strange things Im picking up from the planet, there are strange geological formations that are emitting light? they seem to be formations made of iron and quarts mostly."
"hey, stupid question Hynox, what if there is intelligent life here? that would explain everything."
"its not impossible, but randomly finding life like this? its never been done. almost always they had sent out some kind of faster than light communication that we use as a beacon, you know the shear statistics of randomly stumbling across a planet with not just life but sentient life? I mea-"
"hey Im picking up artificial structures in orbit, this planet defiantly has life on it. meaning this is going to be a hell of a lot more paper work. and their technology is clearly primitive enough that they wont be causing any problems for some while...you want to just skip this planet?"
"WHAT!?! if we make first contact then we will go down in history as the luckiest scouting party ever! you want to pass up this chance? Im scanning for a landing location. pull up diplomacy for qlorcs on the hyper space, we got some fast reading to do in the next 30 minutes"
"come on, this scouting mission is already taking to long, it was supposed to be a 5 day resource scouting mission but you where already to fascinated by the massive gas giants moons. I dont care if rings on planets are rare, its just a torn up planetoid that got to close."
"did I mention the ridiculous bounty on finding life?"
"...how much?"
"50 extra units and 100 for first contacts"
"screw it, Im in."
voice log skipping forward one hour
"hey... what do you think of these 'humans'? they are a bit odd dont you think? no armor, little strength, they sensing organs are easily over run, and according to this medical information they gave us in exchange for a hologram projector shows that all that it would take to kill them and most things on this planet is to burst one of their main blood tubes even among their planet they are easily killed the hell is going on here?"
"I have no idea, we might need to bring in a biologist or something. Im still reading over their evolutionary data they gathered. got to had it to them, they will make a biologist's job easy with all the research they have done and how their creatures can turn into fossils. they are a curious little bunch"
voice log day 15, the biologist Uxron has arrived
"this is the flag ship Glor, biologist Uxron here, hailing the scouting party. this is an emergency situation, we need you to evacuate as soon as you can. we have reviewed the data you have sent us, these humans are more than what they appear."
"what? these people are friendly, they are giving us a tour around their world they-"
"their ancestors where not predators, they hunted predators. they are a ridiculously young species so young they can randomly stumble upon tools use by their primal ancestors in some areas and yet they already are space flight capable. we can not risk anything happening we are sending in trained diplomats. do not piss these guys off"
"...copy, once tour is over we will return to scouting center for further orders... Hynox you heard them, we got to get out of here as soon as possible, one wrong move and-"
video log: Zorax turned to face Hynox but accidentally knocked the human that was addressed as "president" off of his legs and blood poured out of his olfactory organ. Hynox turned in horror to see what had been done.
"holy shi-"
end of log.
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[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
|
First contact was... uneventful. Initially. We landed on their planet, in one of several areas lightly populated by them, but by no means devoid of native life as a whole. It only took three or four rotations before we caught sight of two of them, surprisingly well camouflaged and apparently hunting some local herbivores with effective, if primitive, chemically propelled projectile weapons. Still, it's not like predatory intelligent species are rare. We spotted them, they spotted us, and we retreated, according to standard protocol. A "cooling off" period. What we didn't count on was just how different their niche in their original ecosystem was.
There we were, relaxed, at what we thought was a safe distance, when we heard a rustle and a snap, and one of them was suddenly less than 10 body lengths from us! Apparently, unlike **every** other intelligent species we've encountered, their first instinct when they encounter something they've never seen before is to immediately pursue it. And they are **great** at it. Most of the reasonably sized creatures we've observed on their planet transport themselves on four limbs. A proper, reasonable number, enough for stability, even in the event of a wound, with an extended, fifth limb, for balance. These sapients though, they bound around on only their two lower limbs, which are huge and heavily muscled, and unlike all the other species we've seen, have huge, muscled posteriors, to make sure they don't fall over every time they lurch around unbalanced.
We scattered, and traveled before resting again, but almost as soon as we set down, there they were again! And it happened again, and again! Every time we needed to stop, or rest, before we had time to even calm down, there they were! They only slowed down when it got dark! After another revolution like this, we figured out that their intelligence seems fine-tuned to spot the practically insignificant changes other animals make to the environment as they pass through it. What kind of crazy evolutionary advantage is that!? Here we were, running every time they got close, and they were just lazily spotting our paths through the vegetation, and following us at a leisurely pace. What's really crazy is they didn't even really stop to rest, except at night. They barely paused to do things as important as eating and drinking, nevermind excretion. They just **kept** *going*. It was terrifying.
We came with a full kit, on a faster-than-light ship, and we were being outsmarted and ruthlessly followed by just two totally isolated humans, with barely any of the technology or support we know they thrive on as a society. Eventually, we had to accept that protocol just wasn't going to cut it. We were being hunted, and all our technology and preparation wasn't going to help us escape. We couldn't risk leading them back to the landing craft, and we couldn't get far enough ahead to use it without them seeing the lift-off.
So, we set traps. I know, I know, horrifying, right? The idea of having to make the basic language analysis and first greeting with one party in a net or cage? But you have to understand, we were exhausted, even at night, when we knew they had to rest, we couldn't let our guard down. It was always just a matter of time until they knew exactly where we were. The entire team started experiencing anxiety symptoms! So we pushed, hard, to get enough extra distance for the preparations. We even managed some redundancies. This was going to work. And then, we heard the first trap go off. I scouted out, personally, to check the trap, but before I even got close, there they were! both of them, just...standing there, looking at it. Moving their primary intake orifices, using what we'd already surmised was their primary natural communication system.
>(note: translation provided from logs, based on linguistic data acquired at a later date, I had **no** idea what they were saying at the time)
>"You think some other hunter left this out?"
>"...no, that'd be really irresponsible, no one's close enough to check them."
>"hmm, you're right."
>"I'm telling you man, these things looked weird. I could swear they were **wearing** things."
>"like...clothes?"
It was at this point that I'd decided I'd captured enough data on their communication, for now, and that I needed to fall back to the group. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and nerves got the better of me, and I gave away my position, somehow. I don't even know, but suddenly their communications ceased and they were looking **right** at me. I sprinted off, figuring they'd follow at their leisure, but something was different this time. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I encountered something biologically familiar for us: being chased, actually chased, not the terrifying chain-of-surprises nonsense. But by this point... I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't get ahead. Even if I had...they would have just found me again. So I beat a path straight back to the group. The first sighting protocol had failed, horrifically, but at least as a group, with our basic wild-life defense weapons we might be able to survive.
I collapsed out of the brush and into the circle of the rest of my team, still able to hear those bizarre bipeds crashing behind me. We grouped up, for once, expecting when and where they'd appear, ready to fight for our lives. We couldn't expect a predator like this, one that clearly thrived on utterly dominating its prey to just leave us be when they caught up to us in mere moments. And with a final crash, there they were. The two of them. Just...standing and staring at us, silently. After a few, tense moments, they communicated to one another, without taking their eyes off us:
>"duuuude, I **told** you!"
>"*what* are these things!?"
And then, they did the absolute last thing we expected, they put their weapons away, behind them, and crouched down, making themselves smaller! It was like just now, after fraying our every instinct, pushing us to exhaustion and utterly terrifying us, now, they didn't want to intimidate us. They even lowered the intensity of their communication, softening it, somehow.
>"Look, they're exhausted, and huddled up like that? They look like they're terrified."
>"Hey, there, you guys, alright? We've had you on the ropes for a while now, haven't we?"
---
oh man, my first ever submission to a writing prompt, plus it's been forever since I did any kind of creative writing. I might write another one for this prompt, no one seems to have put humans on a more equal footing with the aliens, which is something I'm generally a fan of.
Edited for some typos and formatting.
|
zorax's audio recording log. day 12 of the Sol system scouting party.
"there is supposed to be a planet here with an oxygen atmosphere right? how the tell does that even happen? isnt oxygen supposed to be extremely corrosive and bonds to practically everything? Hynox, you're our chemist care to let me in on this?"
"no clue, nothing we know of should be able to geologically create oxygen on this scale, and long range scans show plenty of things for it to bond to on the surface. thats what we are here to find out."
approximately 6 hours later
"hey the closer we get the more strange things Im picking up from the planet, there are strange geological formations that are emitting light? they seem to be formations made of iron and quarts mostly."
"hey, stupid question Hynox, what if there is intelligent life here? that would explain everything."
"its not impossible, but randomly finding life like this? its never been done. almost always they had sent out some kind of faster than light communication that we use as a beacon, you know the shear statistics of randomly stumbling across a planet with not just life but sentient life? I mea-"
"hey Im picking up artificial structures in orbit, this planet defiantly has life on it. meaning this is going to be a hell of a lot more paper work. and their technology is clearly primitive enough that they wont be causing any problems for some while...you want to just skip this planet?"
"WHAT!?! if we make first contact then we will go down in history as the luckiest scouting party ever! you want to pass up this chance? Im scanning for a landing location. pull up diplomacy for qlorcs on the hyper space, we got some fast reading to do in the next 30 minutes"
"come on, this scouting mission is already taking to long, it was supposed to be a 5 day resource scouting mission but you where already to fascinated by the massive gas giants moons. I dont care if rings on planets are rare, its just a torn up planetoid that got to close."
"did I mention the ridiculous bounty on finding life?"
"...how much?"
"50 extra units and 100 for first contacts"
"screw it, Im in."
voice log skipping forward one hour
"hey... what do you think of these 'humans'? they are a bit odd dont you think? no armor, little strength, they sensing organs are easily over run, and according to this medical information they gave us in exchange for a hologram projector shows that all that it would take to kill them and most things on this planet is to burst one of their main blood tubes even among their planet they are easily killed the hell is going on here?"
"I have no idea, we might need to bring in a biologist or something. Im still reading over their evolutionary data they gathered. got to had it to them, they will make a biologist's job easy with all the research they have done and how their creatures can turn into fossils. they are a curious little bunch"
voice log day 15, the biologist Uxron has arrived
"this is the flag ship Glor, biologist Uxron here, hailing the scouting party. this is an emergency situation, we need you to evacuate as soon as you can. we have reviewed the data you have sent us, these humans are more than what they appear."
"what? these people are friendly, they are giving us a tour around their world they-"
"their ancestors where not predators, they hunted predators. they are a ridiculously young species so young they can randomly stumble upon tools use by their primal ancestors in some areas and yet they already are space flight capable. we can not risk anything happening we are sending in trained diplomats. do not piss these guys off"
"...copy, once tour is over we will return to scouting center for further orders... Hynox you heard them, we got to get out of here as soon as possible, one wrong move and-"
video log: Zorax turned to face Hynox but accidentally knocked the human that was addressed as "president" off of his legs and blood poured out of his olfactory organ. Hynox turned in horror to see what had been done.
"holy shi-"
end of log.
|
|
[WP] Not all intelligent life has evolved from predators, humans are not unique, yet being a uncommon type that is a pursuit predator makes them pure nightmare fuel for some aliens, even friendly ones.
|
First contact was... uneventful. Initially. We landed on their planet, in one of several areas lightly populated by them, but by no means devoid of native life as a whole. It only took three or four rotations before we caught sight of two of them, surprisingly well camouflaged and apparently hunting some local herbivores with effective, if primitive, chemically propelled projectile weapons. Still, it's not like predatory intelligent species are rare. We spotted them, they spotted us, and we retreated, according to standard protocol. A "cooling off" period. What we didn't count on was just how different their niche in their original ecosystem was.
There we were, relaxed, at what we thought was a safe distance, when we heard a rustle and a snap, and one of them was suddenly less than 10 body lengths from us! Apparently, unlike **every** other intelligent species we've encountered, their first instinct when they encounter something they've never seen before is to immediately pursue it. And they are **great** at it. Most of the reasonably sized creatures we've observed on their planet transport themselves on four limbs. A proper, reasonable number, enough for stability, even in the event of a wound, with an extended, fifth limb, for balance. These sapients though, they bound around on only their two lower limbs, which are huge and heavily muscled, and unlike all the other species we've seen, have huge, muscled posteriors, to make sure they don't fall over every time they lurch around unbalanced.
We scattered, and traveled before resting again, but almost as soon as we set down, there they were again! And it happened again, and again! Every time we needed to stop, or rest, before we had time to even calm down, there they were! They only slowed down when it got dark! After another revolution like this, we figured out that their intelligence seems fine-tuned to spot the practically insignificant changes other animals make to the environment as they pass through it. What kind of crazy evolutionary advantage is that!? Here we were, running every time they got close, and they were just lazily spotting our paths through the vegetation, and following us at a leisurely pace. What's really crazy is they didn't even really stop to rest, except at night. They barely paused to do things as important as eating and drinking, nevermind excretion. They just **kept** *going*. It was terrifying.
We came with a full kit, on a faster-than-light ship, and we were being outsmarted and ruthlessly followed by just two totally isolated humans, with barely any of the technology or support we know they thrive on as a society. Eventually, we had to accept that protocol just wasn't going to cut it. We were being hunted, and all our technology and preparation wasn't going to help us escape. We couldn't risk leading them back to the landing craft, and we couldn't get far enough ahead to use it without them seeing the lift-off.
So, we set traps. I know, I know, horrifying, right? The idea of having to make the basic language analysis and first greeting with one party in a net or cage? But you have to understand, we were exhausted, even at night, when we knew they had to rest, we couldn't let our guard down. It was always just a matter of time until they knew exactly where we were. The entire team started experiencing anxiety symptoms! So we pushed, hard, to get enough extra distance for the preparations. We even managed some redundancies. This was going to work. And then, we heard the first trap go off. I scouted out, personally, to check the trap, but before I even got close, there they were! both of them, just...standing there, looking at it. Moving their primary intake orifices, using what we'd already surmised was their primary natural communication system.
>(note: translation provided from logs, based on linguistic data acquired at a later date, I had **no** idea what they were saying at the time)
>"You think some other hunter left this out?"
>"...no, that'd be really irresponsible, no one's close enough to check them."
>"hmm, you're right."
>"I'm telling you man, these things looked weird. I could swear they were **wearing** things."
>"like...clothes?"
It was at this point that I'd decided I'd captured enough data on their communication, for now, and that I needed to fall back to the group. Unfortunately, my exhaustion and nerves got the better of me, and I gave away my position, somehow. I don't even know, but suddenly their communications ceased and they were looking **right** at me. I sprinted off, figuring they'd follow at their leisure, but something was different this time. For the first time in this whole ordeal, I encountered something biologically familiar for us: being chased, actually chased, not the terrifying chain-of-surprises nonsense. But by this point... I just didn't have the energy. I couldn't get ahead. Even if I had...they would have just found me again. So I beat a path straight back to the group. The first sighting protocol had failed, horrifically, but at least as a group, with our basic wild-life defense weapons we might be able to survive.
I collapsed out of the brush and into the circle of the rest of my team, still able to hear those bizarre bipeds crashing behind me. We grouped up, for once, expecting when and where they'd appear, ready to fight for our lives. We couldn't expect a predator like this, one that clearly thrived on utterly dominating its prey to just leave us be when they caught up to us in mere moments. And with a final crash, there they were. The two of them. Just...standing and staring at us, silently. After a few, tense moments, they communicated to one another, without taking their eyes off us:
>"duuuude, I **told** you!"
>"*what* are these things!?"
And then, they did the absolute last thing we expected, they put their weapons away, behind them, and crouched down, making themselves smaller! It was like just now, after fraying our every instinct, pushing us to exhaustion and utterly terrifying us, now, they didn't want to intimidate us. They even lowered the intensity of their communication, softening it, somehow.
>"Look, they're exhausted, and huddled up like that? They look like they're terrified."
>"Hey, there, you guys, alright? We've had you on the ropes for a while now, haven't we?"
---
oh man, my first ever submission to a writing prompt, plus it's been forever since I did any kind of creative writing. I might write another one for this prompt, no one seems to have put humans on a more equal footing with the aliens, which is something I'm generally a fan of.
Edited for some typos and formatting.
|
its rough but hell its something.
\---
​
We lost the Alliance fleet thirty systems ago. We didn’t lose that ship, that thrice damned human capital ship. The human territories where the first we invaded, their border was closest to ours, lightly defended compared to their inner facing borders and ripe for conquest. Our fleets pushed aside their defences, smashed ships crushed stations. Our armies landed and enslaved populations. Two cycles later and we had almost all of human territory under our sway. The human fleets were quick responders of course but we had the entire might of our empire against a single faction within the alliance.
The human’s last fleet took all the refugees they could into alliance space, their ships are built differently from ours, they operate for years in the black without needing to return to port, we pillaged what we needed and burnt the rest. When they fled was when the war began in earnest.
Fleets where gutted, stations rained down on burning planets, entire populations died in milliseconds as bombardment projectiles cracked the surface of planets. It was a glorious war, but one we ultimately lost. The alliance core system, home of their government is a lynchpin system. You take that you take the alliance. There was no other way forwards for us. So we slammed against this system venomously defended by the remaining militaries of conquered species. The humans fleet reduced to a few dozen ships, now scarred veterans among the alliance, took 5 times their number in the final push.
That was the turning point, we lost too many ships to keep what we had taken. So we fell back, and back... and back until we were pushed from alliance territory. Pushed from what remained of the desiccated human’s former territory. That’s where the Alliance stopped. We began the trip home, but one ship kept chasing us. It would be there at the edge of every system we travelled through, sitting, watching. We soon realised why. The 100 jumps we had to go through to get home was costing us. We had to stop for fuel. Stop to harvest planets for organic material, food. And each time we entered a system we found planets bursting. Volcanoes causing mass extinction, raising the temperatures beyond what we can survive. Jump points between systems were mined and cost us ships to clear out so we went sideways, skirting systems and jumping in circles to try and run from the ship.
It was three jumps ago our first ships ran dry of fuel. Whilst we were shuttling the crews across kinetic projectiles slammed into their hulls, enough energy to reduce the ships to dust and exotic particles was all that was left of them without their shields.
We started abandoning ships when they ran dry.
Between jumps we would take what crew and fuel we could from the small ships and scuttle them, give a ship as honourable send off as we could. Each time that damned ship was there, watching. Waiting.
We’re three jumps from home now. Salvation is only jumps away. We drew lots to see who would be processed into food and fuel. The human ship is the only other ship sharing this otherwise empty system. Its watching, waiting, we have no fuel to turn and fight, no weapons large enough to pierce is shields. I watch as the crew solemnly kill one another to feed the ship and themselves. There’s three things in this system, us, the damned humans, and a small white hot chunk of carbon so dense that it’s eaten everything else here. I pull out two quills one black one white and with them behind my back roll them until I can’t tell which is which. Still with them behind my back I decide, black we keep running, white I dont give the humans the satisfaction.
Picking one of the quills I hold it up, I dont know how long I stood there looking at the single barbed quill in my fingers. With a sigh I sit down at my chair, override all controls from the crew and seal the bridge. It only takes a moment to line the ship up with that glowing white hot ball, I authorise full thrust from the engines and sit there as the crew attempt to batter down the door.
|
|
[WP] the imp read over a contract you just signed to give up your soul to his dark lord. “Uh... I think I messed up where the signatures go, I think you own his now?”
|
You don't know the value of a thing until you lose it.
​
This, you tell yourself when you argue. It works splendidly until the nine planets of minor annoyance align, and the rotten floorboards, leaking ceiling, and peeling wallpapers of your marriage collapse.
​
Two weeks after the fact, the novelty of divorce wears off. You try calling her, ready to apologize. Not because you think you're wrong, but because you miss her so fucking much and no one can replace her. Two days pass. You try calling her again. This time, you realize how much of an idiot you have been, you realize that the fault wasn't a 50/50 split, not even an 80/20. No, you were to blame, you were wrong, and you're sorry, sorrier than you've ever been in your life.
​
Eventually, having memorized every syllable of her voicemail message, the stunted, robotic voice jars you. 'THE NUMBER YOU ARE DIALING DOES NO LONGER EXIST. PLEASE HANG UP AND TRY AGAIN.'
​
And just like that, the last traces of her are gone -- sand grains swept up by the wind. You realize you have no way of seeing this person ever again. She is gone, and you never even got the chance to say goodbye.
​
Two weeks later, after the fact, after the novelty of depression wears off, your apartment is a grim collage of red-wax, bloody pentagrams and crawling symbols.
​
'You're sure you want to do this?' The demon's tugs at his tie, 'Don't you want to, uh, consider the implications? Hesitate in the face of irredeemable sin?'
​
'No.' You say, your voice a flat-line on a dying patients' heart monitor.
​
The demon laughs nervously, 'Huh, first time for everything. You just seem very...' It stares into the yawning emptiness of your eyes and flinches, '...sure about this...'
​
'Yes.'
​
'Well, I'll just get the formalities out of the way...' The demon's hand blurs over dozens of pages. At the sound of a pen click, the brutal runes on the parchment light up a bloody shade of red.
​
The demon is about to say something, but you grab the pen out of his hand and sign.
​
'Wait, no! Stop!' shouts the demon, but it's too late.
​
You close your eyes and smile, waiting for the licking flames of eternal torment. You deserve this. This is where you belong. The pain of going unpunished outweighs any conceivable torturing chamber.
​
A claw taps you on the shoulder.
​
'My Lord,' the demon says, kneeling, 'There's been a complication. You are, er, you are the new Ruler of Hell.'
​
The faintest of smiles curls on your lips. 'Hm, how fitting. Lead the way, Penemue.'
​
The demon's name, Penemue. It's as though you had always known it.
​
The two of you descend into a shrieking eye of sundered reality. As you near the bottom of the immense staircase, intense heat rolls over you in waves. Even as the flesh melts off your body, revealing a thorny, twisted skeleton with twin novas for eyes, the magma feels like a fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night.
​
Satan's soul, swirling inside you, whispers the secrets of the world. The same way a human looks at an apple and immediately sees the colour red, you look up at the celestial spheres, bobbing in sparkling waters of Etheria, and see the lives of every mortal play out at once.
​
Wielding the power of a fallen angel, capable of crushing worlds and twisting manifold dimensions, your hands still tremble while the phone rings.
​
'Hello?' The sound of her voice is a sledgehammer, shattering every immaculately constructed speech you'd made in your head.
​
'Hello?' she says again, 'Who is this?'
​
Your vocal cords are taut to snapping. 'Justine?'
​
Her voice instantly cools to sub-zero, 'Oh. It's you. Who gave you this number?'
​
'It doesn't matter. I'm sorry for everything, Justine.'
​
There's a crackling silence, the sound of electromagnetic waves desperately bridging the gap between the Mortal Realm and Hell.
​
Again, you see Justine's entire life presented as an immediate whole, as though it were laid out on a small sheet of paper and summarised by a word that's comprehended faster than it can be read. The second marriage, the dream job, the car accident.
​
'Goodbye, Justine.'
​
You hang up the phone. The gates creak open, and the burning fields of Hell expand.
​
You put your hands in your pockets and stare through the Ceiling, up at the heavenly spheres. Thin, dripping threads of gold connect the many worlds. There, you spot the confused and hopeful, kaleidoscopic glow of the Mortal Realm. A little further, you see a sphere of serene, harmonious white light. It is the one place you can never reach, the paradise which you left of your own accord.
​
'Who was that you were talking to, my Lord?' asks Penemue.
​
'An old friend.'
​
The demon rubs his little claws together, 'Ah, shall we be seeing her soon?'
​
You look up at the white sphere. It twinkles. 'No, I don't think we shall.'
​
Your teardrops hiss as they hit the ground.
​
You don't know the value of a thing until you lose it.
___
"Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss."
— John Milton, Paradise Lost
|
“Uh... I think I messed up where the signatures go, I think you own his now?”, the little imp muttered.
Silence swept through the dark lord’s throne room.Thousands of eyes in the dark peered at me.
“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS, IMP?!” the dark lord bellowed.
“Sir, you signed the wrong blank! By this contract, your soul is in the possession of this human!” squeaked the imp.
I looked back at the menacing figure, now twitching on his black-as-night throne. Not very “lord-like” is he? I cast him a pitiful glance at the former strongest being in the entire world. The Great Dark Lord, renowned for crushing and conquering countries with the teeny tiny tip of his finger. All of that changed, as an iron collar now adorned his neck. Lovely. It was every boy’s dream to have a monstrous dark lord on a leash.
“So, ummm... I guess I own you now?” I chuckled feverishly.
His cold, piercing eyes stared at me.
“Such insolence! I refuse to be commanded by this infuriating pest!”, he screamed.
His colossal fists whirled through the air, slapping the imp aside.
“Oh doodles,” I whimpered as the 5-foot wide fist made way towards my face.
A ghostly blue aura glowed around his fist and his blow stopped suddenly, suspended in the air.
“Looks like you can’t hurt me, your master. That settles it. The infamous Great Dark Lord, conqueror of a thousand nations, is now my pet.” My words reverberated throughout the hall.
A devilish smile sprouted across my face from ear to ear. I raised both my hands in the air, a looked up to the heavens.
“Rejoice, you diabolical fiends! For today, you and your master serve a new me! Thus begins the reign of Philip, Supreme Lord of-“
Philip’s head toppled to the ground, his headless torso swaying from side to side.
The Great Dark Lord chuckled.
“Fool. only I am bound by the contract. The same does not apply to my minions.”
|
|
[WP] the imp read over a contract you just signed to give up your soul to his dark lord. “Uh... I think I messed up where the signatures go, I think you own his now?”
|
You don't know the value of a thing until you lose it.
​
This, you tell yourself when you argue. It works splendidly until the nine planets of minor annoyance align, and the rotten floorboards, leaking ceiling, and peeling wallpapers of your marriage collapse.
​
Two weeks after the fact, the novelty of divorce wears off. You try calling her, ready to apologize. Not because you think you're wrong, but because you miss her so fucking much and no one can replace her. Two days pass. You try calling her again. This time, you realize how much of an idiot you have been, you realize that the fault wasn't a 50/50 split, not even an 80/20. No, you were to blame, you were wrong, and you're sorry, sorrier than you've ever been in your life.
​
Eventually, having memorized every syllable of her voicemail message, the stunted, robotic voice jars you. 'THE NUMBER YOU ARE DIALING DOES NO LONGER EXIST. PLEASE HANG UP AND TRY AGAIN.'
​
And just like that, the last traces of her are gone -- sand grains swept up by the wind. You realize you have no way of seeing this person ever again. She is gone, and you never even got the chance to say goodbye.
​
Two weeks later, after the fact, after the novelty of depression wears off, your apartment is a grim collage of red-wax, bloody pentagrams and crawling symbols.
​
'You're sure you want to do this?' The demon's tugs at his tie, 'Don't you want to, uh, consider the implications? Hesitate in the face of irredeemable sin?'
​
'No.' You say, your voice a flat-line on a dying patients' heart monitor.
​
The demon laughs nervously, 'Huh, first time for everything. You just seem very...' It stares into the yawning emptiness of your eyes and flinches, '...sure about this...'
​
'Yes.'
​
'Well, I'll just get the formalities out of the way...' The demon's hand blurs over dozens of pages. At the sound of a pen click, the brutal runes on the parchment light up a bloody shade of red.
​
The demon is about to say something, but you grab the pen out of his hand and sign.
​
'Wait, no! Stop!' shouts the demon, but it's too late.
​
You close your eyes and smile, waiting for the licking flames of eternal torment. You deserve this. This is where you belong. The pain of going unpunished outweighs any conceivable torturing chamber.
​
A claw taps you on the shoulder.
​
'My Lord,' the demon says, kneeling, 'There's been a complication. You are, er, you are the new Ruler of Hell.'
​
The faintest of smiles curls on your lips. 'Hm, how fitting. Lead the way, Penemue.'
​
The demon's name, Penemue. It's as though you had always known it.
​
The two of you descend into a shrieking eye of sundered reality. As you near the bottom of the immense staircase, intense heat rolls over you in waves. Even as the flesh melts off your body, revealing a thorny, twisted skeleton with twin novas for eyes, the magma feels like a fuzzy blanket on a cold winter night.
​
Satan's soul, swirling inside you, whispers the secrets of the world. The same way a human looks at an apple and immediately sees the colour red, you look up at the celestial spheres, bobbing in sparkling waters of Etheria, and see the lives of every mortal play out at once.
​
Wielding the power of a fallen angel, capable of crushing worlds and twisting manifold dimensions, your hands still tremble while the phone rings.
​
'Hello?' The sound of her voice is a sledgehammer, shattering every immaculately constructed speech you'd made in your head.
​
'Hello?' she says again, 'Who is this?'
​
Your vocal cords are taut to snapping. 'Justine?'
​
Her voice instantly cools to sub-zero, 'Oh. It's you. Who gave you this number?'
​
'It doesn't matter. I'm sorry for everything, Justine.'
​
There's a crackling silence, the sound of electromagnetic waves desperately bridging the gap between the Mortal Realm and Hell.
​
Again, you see Justine's entire life presented as an immediate whole, as though it were laid out on a small sheet of paper and summarised by a word that's comprehended faster than it can be read. The second marriage, the dream job, the car accident.
​
'Goodbye, Justine.'
​
You hang up the phone. The gates creak open, and the burning fields of Hell expand.
​
You put your hands in your pockets and stare through the Ceiling, up at the heavenly spheres. Thin, dripping threads of gold connect the many worlds. There, you spot the confused and hopeful, kaleidoscopic glow of the Mortal Realm. A little further, you see a sphere of serene, harmonious white light. It is the one place you can never reach, the paradise which you left of your own accord.
​
'Who was that you were talking to, my Lord?' asks Penemue.
​
'An old friend.'
​
The demon rubs his little claws together, 'Ah, shall we be seeing her soon?'
​
You look up at the white sphere. It twinkles. 'No, I don't think we shall.'
​
Your teardrops hiss as they hit the ground.
​
You don't know the value of a thing until you lose it.
___
"Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss."
— John Milton, Paradise Lost
|
I give a confused look to the imp. "How is that allowed?" The imp shrugs his shoulders. "Don't know. I do know, that this will be fun?" He makes a wide grin, like he just remembered something funny.
I barely have time to reply about why is he so calm about this, before a portal bigger than the one the imp came through is opened behind said imp. A demon with huge horns, and hellish black armour walks through. He looks very pissed.
"YOU!" He points angrily at the imp. "If I could hurt you I would. But, thanks to your tiny mind, I now serve him!" He points at me without looking at me, then starts ranting that when I die, he will put the imp through so much torture, he will regret, beg, actually cry when he should not be able to, etc. Of course I had to ask, "Wait, why can't you kill him?"
He then sighs, and runs his forehead. He walks in front of me, and sighs. "I...made a bet with him a few years ago. I would turn him into an imp with no memory, and if he somehow filled out a form wrong for the soul of a person and make me serve them, he would get his memory back, and become...my lord."
I raise an eyebrow, puzzled by this. "Why did you make this deal?" He huffs smoke angrily out of his mouth. "I thought it wouldn't even happen. I thought imps had enough intelligence to not make the mistake, but of course, he thought otherwise!"
A red hand clamps on the armour of the former demon lord. Said hand was connected to a demon with a black business suit, which I assumed was the imp in their "real" form.
"That's why you should never take deals with me Annogosh. I always win." He then forcibly shakes my hand. "I have to also thank you for making this deal with me."
He opens a portal behind himself, and starts walking through. He let's out a "Ta ta", as the portal closes behind him.
Annogosh then sighs heavily. He then stares at me, silently, and of course, angrily. After what seems like minutes passed, he sighs again. "So, what do you want me to do, I guess?"
|
|
[WP] The TV screen goes into a public broadcast "EMERGENCY WARNING: IF YOU ARE READING THIS, OPEN ALL WATER IN YOUR HOUSE IMMEDIATELY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. FLUSH TOILETS NONSTOP. MIX THE POOL WATER AND TURN ON WATER JETS. DO NOT LET ANY WATER SIT STILL."
|
'Shit. Not again.' Ash Ketchum muttered as he heaved himself out of the chair.
Ever since the Vaporeon Plague began, that message had been broadcasted almost daily.
Attempts to breed wild Eevee out of endangerment backfired stupendously when the hoardes escaped and dominated the local wildlife, destroying ecosystems. It all got worse when they accidentally discovered a mine shaft chock full of Water Stones.
Using their ability to melt into water, the Vaporeon would hide in any still water source available, becoming a nuisance to the local population. There had been several cases of people accidentally ingesting an unfortunate Vaporeon that had been hiding in a glass of water and dying as a result.
Ash wandered around his appartment, shaking every still water source. At least a dozen Vaporeon emerged from the water, disappointed that they had been discovered.
Ash groaned as he turned his head to look at his partner.
'Pikachu, use Thunderbolt.'
(I know that this is incredibly bizarre, but I wanted to twist the prompt into something humourous.)
|
After the emergency warning finishes its first pass across the screen, the dance competition flickers and is replaced by a frantic looking new broadcaster clearing getting direction just off screen. He looks up and with surprising quickness composes himself with the appropriate newscaster decorum.
“Good evening, this is Will Rutherford with Action Broadcast News. We apologize about the interruption of your regularly scheduled program but unfortunately the circumstances require it.” In true news anchor fashion he shuffles a few pieces of paper in front of him and clears his throat. “At 7:15 pm Central Standard Time, the President of the United States has dispatched an All Points Bulletin outlining the following talking points. First, as of this evening there has been a confirmed first contact with an alien species. This contact took place at CENTCOM which is located in Tampa, FL.”
The anchor pauses dramatically to let the words sink in. My brain, sluggish from the few drinks this evening, struggles to comprehend the implications. I stare slack jawed at the screen, waiting to hear what is next if that is only bullet point one.
After just enough time passes, Will Rutherford continues, “The second point the President wishes to convey is that the intentions of this alien species appear to be hostile. There was no chance for diplomacy as the contact functioned more as a pre-emptive strike rather than an introduction.” The pregnant pause was a bit shorter this time. “Finally, in the absence of any visible space ships or transport vessels, NASA scientists are under the belief that these alien life forms are able to use standing pools of water as portals. The science is not clear but based on video evidence recovered from CENTCOM, the proposed theory warrants action.”
The banner with the emergency language springs to life at the bottom of the screen once more. The news anchor drops the façade for just a moment and tries to address the audience simply as a human. “The President is asking for our patience, understanding, and action in these extraordinary circumstances. We understand the perceived absurdity of all that was said tonight, but if there is any chance that this request is the difference between human extinction and survival, the inconvenience will have been a meager price to pay. Please, I beg you, do as the request asks.”
The rest of what Will Rutherford has to say dissolves into background noise. My brain begins to catch up and is working through all the potential implications. Aliens. Interstellar war. Extinction. The last one sobers me up fairly quick. The anchor did not mince words about what could possibly be on the line here. I will have to do my part.
I spring up from the couch and run to the kitchen. The sink was the logical first place to start. As I flick the faucet on in my first act of patriotism, something draws my attention to the backyard. The stupid cat, she is always trying to perch herself on whatever odd outcropping she finds and she now sits on the exterior windowsill swishing her tail back and forth, staring out at the pool. A blinding flash of ectoplasm green explodes outside. The light blinds me as I duck behind the counter for cover. The disturbing lack of a follow up sound furthers my disorientation.
Slowly I lurch up to peek over the top of the counter. In my backyard, silhouetted against distant green explosions are six tall figures. They begin to make their way towards the house.
Edited: Clarification regarding the pool in the backyard.
|
|
[WP] The TV screen goes into a public broadcast "EMERGENCY WARNING: IF YOU ARE READING THIS, OPEN ALL WATER IN YOUR HOUSE IMMEDIATELY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. FLUSH TOILETS NONSTOP. MIX THE POOL WATER AND TURN ON WATER JETS. DO NOT LET ANY WATER SIT STILL."
|
"...NOT LET ANY WATER SIT STILL." Jacob turned off the radio and turned to his companion.
"Did it work?"
The water before them sat still, small ripples expanding along its otherwise smooth surface.
"Hold on, give it a minute..." replied Jack.
Suddenly, the water level started dropping, revealing a small staircase and a vault door, while a great rumble filled the air.
"Told you she'd pull it off, come on, we've got 15 minutes before the backup pumps start actually counteracting our little stunt" ordered Jack, descending the staircase in pace with the water.
"And the guards?"
"Leave them Rookie, they'll come to in about an hour, we'll be long gone by then." Jacob nodded at that and joined him in front of the vault.
The door soundlessly slid open, revealling a fortune in rare artifacts and paintings, all inside airtight containers bearing the Millionaire's family crests.
Jacob grinned and turned around.
"Time to earn that PAYDAY"
|
I'm used to these types of broadcast now. Ever since the aliens land on Earth, these types of broadcast became common. You maybe wonder why. Well, let record why as I start making my water un... still.
These aliens were not the kind we were expecting. They, for a lack of a better term, was made of water. Water was who they were. They infused with our ocean (which made going to the beach much more dangerous). Eventually, they got through purification plants, sewers, which led them to our pools, sinks, and the worst place yet, toilets. I can't tell you how many we've lost to bathroom attacks.
Eventually, we learned when they would attack, and how we can stop them. As long as the water is still, they can form a physical form. So that's why we can't keep our water still. Sadly we can't get rid of them. They are a part of our world now
Now that I explained our story, I'm going to finish my show with my cup of wa-.....@#%*! I knew I forgot something!
|
|
[WP] The TV screen goes into a public broadcast "EMERGENCY WARNING: IF YOU ARE READING THIS, OPEN ALL WATER IN YOUR HOUSE IMMEDIATELY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. FLUSH TOILETS NONSTOP. MIX THE POOL WATER AND TURN ON WATER JETS. DO NOT LET ANY WATER SIT STILL."
|
'Shit. Not again.' Ash Ketchum muttered as he heaved himself out of the chair.
Ever since the Vaporeon Plague began, that message had been broadcasted almost daily.
Attempts to breed wild Eevee out of endangerment backfired stupendously when the hoardes escaped and dominated the local wildlife, destroying ecosystems. It all got worse when they accidentally discovered a mine shaft chock full of Water Stones.
Using their ability to melt into water, the Vaporeon would hide in any still water source available, becoming a nuisance to the local population. There had been several cases of people accidentally ingesting an unfortunate Vaporeon that had been hiding in a glass of water and dying as a result.
Ash wandered around his appartment, shaking every still water source. At least a dozen Vaporeon emerged from the water, disappointed that they had been discovered.
Ash groaned as he turned his head to look at his partner.
'Pikachu, use Thunderbolt.'
(I know that this is incredibly bizarre, but I wanted to twist the prompt into something humourous.)
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I'm used to these types of broadcast now. Ever since the aliens land on Earth, these types of broadcast became common. You maybe wonder why. Well, let record why as I start making my water un... still.
These aliens were not the kind we were expecting. They, for a lack of a better term, was made of water. Water was who they were. They infused with our ocean (which made going to the beach much more dangerous). Eventually, they got through purification plants, sewers, which led them to our pools, sinks, and the worst place yet, toilets. I can't tell you how many we've lost to bathroom attacks.
Eventually, we learned when they would attack, and how we can stop them. As long as the water is still, they can form a physical form. So that's why we can't keep our water still. Sadly we can't get rid of them. They are a part of our world now
Now that I explained our story, I'm going to finish my show with my cup of wa-.....@#%*! I knew I forgot something!
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[WP] The TV screen goes into a public broadcast "EMERGENCY WARNING: IF YOU ARE READING THIS, OPEN ALL WATER IN YOUR HOUSE IMMEDIATELY UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE. FLUSH TOILETS NONSTOP. MIX THE POOL WATER AND TURN ON WATER JETS. DO NOT LET ANY WATER SIT STILL."
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'Shit. Not again.' Ash Ketchum muttered as he heaved himself out of the chair.
Ever since the Vaporeon Plague began, that message had been broadcasted almost daily.
Attempts to breed wild Eevee out of endangerment backfired stupendously when the hoardes escaped and dominated the local wildlife, destroying ecosystems. It all got worse when they accidentally discovered a mine shaft chock full of Water Stones.
Using their ability to melt into water, the Vaporeon would hide in any still water source available, becoming a nuisance to the local population. There had been several cases of people accidentally ingesting an unfortunate Vaporeon that had been hiding in a glass of water and dying as a result.
Ash wandered around his appartment, shaking every still water source. At least a dozen Vaporeon emerged from the water, disappointed that they had been discovered.
Ash groaned as he turned his head to look at his partner.
'Pikachu, use Thunderbolt.'
(I know that this is incredibly bizarre, but I wanted to twist the prompt into something humourous.)
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"...NOT LET ANY WATER SIT STILL." Jacob turned off the radio and turned to his companion.
"Did it work?"
The water before them sat still, small ripples expanding along its otherwise smooth surface.
"Hold on, give it a minute..." replied Jack.
Suddenly, the water level started dropping, revealing a small staircase and a vault door, while a great rumble filled the air.
"Told you she'd pull it off, come on, we've got 15 minutes before the backup pumps start actually counteracting our little stunt" ordered Jack, descending the staircase in pace with the water.
"And the guards?"
"Leave them Rookie, they'll come to in about an hour, we'll be long gone by then." Jacob nodded at that and joined him in front of the vault.
The door soundlessly slid open, revealling a fortune in rare artifacts and paintings, all inside airtight containers bearing the Millionaire's family crests.
Jacob grinned and turned around.
"Time to earn that PAYDAY"
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[WP] You just killed Death. At first, you were hailed as a hero, but it is rapidly becoming apparent that what you did was a Terrible Idea.
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After death died people cheered me on. I got so many medals, trophies and cash rewards I had to dedicate a whole room in my mansion just for them. But after the initial month people realized that without death, life has no meaning. People were stealing and raping like there's no tomorrow, however there was a tomorrow. And another one. And yet another one. There was always a tomorrow. Time became drag as every day passed like the one before. Nature caught up and soon animals were ravaging cities, endlessly feeding and breeding as death never came. However there was no fight for life as death had ceased. During all that I was being treated worse and worse. I was tortured until nature caught up, then they just left me die or in this case live. I managed to find a nice island, away from nature and people seeking revenge. One day a hooded figure came, walking on water not by holy blessing but by freezing the sea beneath them. Once they came closer I was greeted by a familiar sight: Death. The very same one I murdered. Once it reached the beach I was compelled to walk closer. We met in the crossing point between the grass and sand. It spoke:
"Sup. So how's it hanging. Noticed earth was a little fucked so I dropped by to see how you were doing." It spoke so nonchalantly, so relaxed and at ease. Speaking to the man who murdered them like an old pal.
"But..." I was dumbfounded, completely speechless in fact.
"Yeah you "murdered" me." It said as it made air quotes with its skeletal fingers. "You shot me and I found it amusing, so I played along. Was getting tired of this job anyway. Needed a little hundred year vacation, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah..." I couldn't think of anything else. I couldn't process what just happened. Deaths explanation cleared up a few things but also raised just as many new ones.
"Earth to...What's your name? Doesn't matter. You look like you've just seen a ghost. I'm not really a ghost, I mean I did "die" but...Where were we."
I embraced Death. I don't know whether it was confusion or because I missed him but I hugged death like a friend who just came out of the hospital from life or death surgery. I cried on its shoulder and Death hugged back.
"Alright...I just came to tell you that Chronos is going to reset everything because of the mess I caused."
"Chronos?"
"Yeah, father time etc. he's the governor of time. He's going to fix this mess by rewinding time to before this happened. To compensate for this whole ordeal he promoted you to vice-death."
"Alright. So when is everything going to reset?"
"Right about no-" Suddenly the ground beneath us broke and was moving west. The logs my house was made from were put back into the ground and shrunk down to saplings and then seeds. Various sea creatures were reverting to their infancy and then vanishing from existence. The clouds were twisting and turning and the sun had become a golden belt wrapping around the earth. Then I was thrown through the sea back into the city, the underground I was tortured in, and then it all stopped at the city center. The same one where I had "killed" death and started this nightmare. However something was different. Both of us were being ignored. As if we were invisible. Suddenly a dark, oval portal appeared behind us as time stopped:
"Time to go back to the office. You joining?"
"Ye-yeah." And with that my new job began as the new (and only) vice-death.
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It was all over In a flash. The bullet penetrated his heart (if he really had one) and caused a major malfunction in his system. He began to tremble and cough up blood. As the cold air filled the atmosphere, his final last words were the most chilling moments of my life.
Death: "you can't stop the Apocalypse, all you can do is prepare for it" he said in a villainous tone.
He fell back and went over the railings only to fall a good 154 feet into the ocean. I looked down to see his body disappear and the crashing waves hit the rocks surrounding the lighthouse. I took out my radio and told the captain of the FBPD that the enemy was down and that was shortly followed up by some fireworks coming from the bay.
Finally Frostbite Bay had been saved from this sadistic killer and now everyone can celebrate new year in peace.
However, that's not how the story ends. As I walked down each step of the lighthouse, I was having weird flashbacks of all the victims I had seen today. Each with a horses head by their side. Also, some of the strangers I had encountered with today was really haunting my mind. As I reached the bottom of the lighthouse, I opened the door to still see the snow getting thicker by the minute. But that weren't the only thing that caught my attention.
I saw a black Convertible waiting outside for me, and unfortunately it weren't a present for my heroic actions. As I approached with a caution, three dark mysterious figures emerged from out of the car and were looking to cause harm.
"So your the one who has delayed our destiny" came a voice from the mysterious man.
"I think you mean, I'm the one who saved Frostbite Bay from any more murder victims" I replied.
"Listen carefully detective Connell, we are more powerful than you think. We have saw the corruption your world brings and we will deliver armageddon. That is a promise" he said with a vicious tone.
At this moment I knew exactly who these shadows were. I was in big danger, but more importantly so was the residents in Frostbite Bay.
"You killed our brother and use his death to prove victorious among your weak human friends. You will be punished, you will serve me under the name of master and you will take his righteous place whether suffer or not. For my name is Conquest and I will finish what I have started"
THE END
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[WP] Desperate for work, you’ve accepted a job in private security, guarding an ominous mansion. You’re given a gun and told to let no one in the gate without a code. When a car full of quipping, flirting, arrogant people show up at the gate, it dawns on you: you’ve been hired as a henchman.
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**Part 1:**
Morty stared out at the empty drive ahead of him, counting the seconds until his shift ended, his boredom accentuated by the occasional chirp of a cricket or hoot of an owl from the surrounding forest. His fingers drummed restlessly on the holster at his belt. At first, the gun had freaked him out, I mean, seriously, a real, loaded weapon? No training? Just his signature on the employment contract? But after night after night of the endless waiting, he was used to the weight on his hip.
He had, you know, taken it out a few times. Held it in his hands. Practiced a few “quick draws.”
“Freeze, scumbag!” He’d shout, pointing the weapon at a particularly ominous tree. “I hope it was worth it!” He’d hiss, leveling the weapon at an especially nefarious shrub. His second week on the job, he’d been trying to spin the gun around his finger, like they do in the movies, when the stupid thing discharged and blew a hole in the pavement, inches from his right foot.
“Shit! Shit! Oh Jesus!” He’d screamed, throwing it to the ground like a hot coal and leaping away in terror. His radio buzzed and a voice emanated from his headset a moment later: “Henderson. Report. We heard gunshots.” His boss, Jameson, had one of those deep, powerfully intimidating kind of voices, and in his panic, both at the gunshot still ringing in his ears and losing his job, his mouth moved faster than his brain. “Uhhh, no problem here. Nothing to report. Just scaring off some kids who were throwing rocks at the gate.”
There was a pause, then his boss spoke again, “Sounds good. Do you need a cleanup?”
*A cleanup?* Morty thought. *What the fuck does that mean?* “... nope!” he said cheerily into the radio. “No cleanup needed here!” *What do they think I did? Shoot a kid?*
Eventually, he decided it’d just been an office prank. Asking if he’d needed a cleanup crew indeed. But nonetheless, that had been the end of his impromptu practice session with the weapon. Now, it sat motionless on his belt, a mere accessory to augment the veneer of authority and self-dignity he’d pretend when looking at himself in the mirror dressed in his fancy uniform. The black outfit with red accents had a sharp, grave look, and always lent a somber tone to his practice sessions with the baton on his other hip, which he’d taken up with ferocity following the oh-shit-I-accidentally-nearly-shot-myself incident.
But tonight, he’d exhausted his limited vocabulary of fighting moves and karate noises with the baton. He’d exhausted fiddling with his official radio and he’d exhausted his patience for trying to identify distinct bird sounds. And thus, a mere halfway through his shift, he stood, watching the incoming drive, bored out of his mind.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He groaned to himself, taking off his stylish beret with one hand while running the other through his hair. “You can do this Morty. It’s only” He checked his watch, “holy christ five more hours?!” He breathed, a long, arduous sound accompanying the outflow of air. “Ok. Five more hours. It could be worse. Just five more hours. Then, only” he did some more mental arithmetic “three more days until the weekend.” he said, voice trailing off. Some days, life just seemed impossible.
But then, with sudden wonder, Morty perked up. He heard something--a distant roar, an engine, rushing down the drive. *Visitors!* He thought, with sudden excitement. This was his favorite part of the job. Greeting the sporadic ensemble of strange personages who came to visit the mansion of Dr. Arcturo Borea, his ultimate employer. Speaking with an artificially deep, gruff voice, he’d pronounce, “Name and identification, please,” and they would *actually listen to him!* Then he’d walk--slowly, mind you--back to the little hut and check their names on the schedule listed, then compare the picture on the ID to the picture in the schedule. Lastly, he’d wave one of those little UV flashlights over the ID. He had no idea what he was looking for with that, but they always did it at airports and stuff, and there’d been one in his kit when he started, and boy did it make him feel cool. Then, just because he could, he’d slowly raise his eyes from the screen and give the expensive--Dr. Borea’s visitors *always* drove expensive cars--car a long probing look. At least, he thought it was probing. When he’d showed it to his girlfriend, she’d told him he just looked constipated. But still. He’d give the car a visual inspection, then slowly approach the vehicle, return their ID, then say, in that same, deep voice, “You can go on through now.”
So, with renewed vigor, Morty straightened, running a hair through his hair and fixing the Beret back in place. Quick work with his hands to straighten the uniform’s collar and shoulder accents, to verify all his gear was appropriately displayed on his belt, then he took up his post in the middle of the road, as the roar of the approaching engine grew rapidly louder. Only then did the thought strike him: *Wait... but there weren’t any visitors on the log for today.* Even as the thought began to sink in, a car screamed around the road, drifting through the curve masterfully, accelerating smoothly as it straightened out and continued to rocket straight towards him, with no hint of slowing down.
Morty, naturally, screamed. “AAAAGHAGAGGAGGHGGHGHGHGHGHH!!!!”
At the last possible moment, the car swerved sharply to avoid him, skidding off the road and spinning out of control, its rear end impacting with the brick foundation of the fence with a crunch.
Morty continued screaming. “AAGAGAGHHHGGHAAAGHAGH!!” His whole body was trembling. He had almost just been run down!
Morty’s screaming began to waver as he ran out of air, and as it did he heard the unmistakable sound of a car down opening. Four suspiciously attractive people exited the vehicle, two men and two women, their lean, muscled bodies taught in all the right places for their respective gender norms. Though he could easily differentiate their faces from one another, they each had that same, young-attractive-CW-warehouse vibe that made them somehow fade together in his mind in a vague blur of youth, fecundity, and overly perfect faces.
“Told you he wouldn’t move.” Said the taller of the two women, “You owe me fifty bucks. Borea hires competent muscle.”
“Oh, you’ll get your money, Moonfire.” The shorter of the two men, who’d been driving the vehicle, said with a perfect, rakish grin, then added seriously, “Just as soon as we shut down Borea’s bioweapon factory!”
The group came to a stop in front of Morty, who hadn’t moved from where he’d frozen in the middle of the street. They arrayed themselves in a tight knot in front of him in a perfectly photogenic fashion, their heights and physiques balanced in perfect visual harmony.
“Tsk Tsk Tsk” the woman, Moonfire, Morty guessed, said, her eyes tracing up the shorter man’s muscled physique. “All work and no play makes Shockwave a dull boy.” As she said it, she ran a finger up the side of his arm in a way that made Morty feel vaguely uncomfortable, like when that couple in your subway car starts making out loudly two seats over and at once you both do and don’t want to look.
“Now’s no time for joking around, Moonfire!” Said the other woman in an almost comically serious voice. “The world is counting on us! If Borea’s contagion is released on the black market, thousands will perish!”
“Yeah!” Said the taller man, twirling a... a sort of, staff? Morty guessed? Around his hand in a dramatic flourish. “We’ve got to get inside the gate, then infiltrate the auction, find out where the weapon is being held, then steal it and destroy it! And besides,” he said, flashing brilliant teeth in an eager, confident grin, “There’s bound to be a fight!”
In the manner of one who has nearly died, Morty found his mind focusing on the strangest details of this odd encounter. Such as, *Who were they explaining this all to? Him?* Or, *Why were they all standing so close together? Didn’t they realize normal people like some goddamn personal space?* Or, *Who actually legitimately uses the word ‘perish’ anymore?*
But, he didn’t ask the group any of those things. He didn’t ask them anything. Instead, he shouted, “You almost just hit me with your car! What the hell!”
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When I reached sixteen years of age I was immersed in drug culture, and I was the runner for drug gangs, being used to do the riskiest jobs but getting to keep the money made. It was on one fateful day though I was delivering for an especially rough area, the kind of neighbourhood where shitholes like KFC are referred to as “restaurants”. It started to come down with rain but the guy’s house is just on the corner of the road. There’s rubbish scattered all over the front garden and the bins are overflowing, the top left window has been broken and wooden planks have been put over it. The last time it was painted was probably fifty years ago, as the white paint has faded to grey . I knock on the door, and it immediately swings open letting me into the entire living room. The guy is sitting in an oversized leather chair facing the door with a gun pointed to it, but as he sees me, all seems to be well and he lowers it. “I’m delivering the drugs you ordered yesterday” I mumble, and he gets up , lowering his head with a slight smile and takes the bag off me.
He takes a look inside and the smile promptly vanishes.
“What’s this?” He says sharply. Confused, I take a look inside and as I inspect he says “I ordered three times this amount , and where are the scales ? I said I wanted them included.” “I don’t know where your fucking scales are, do you want that or not?” I couldn’t care less if this isn’t what he wanted, I have many orders to do, so he’ll have to take it of leave it.
His eyes look as if they want to jump out and hit me themselves, as they’re practically bursting from their sockets. He swings his right hand attempting to hit me with his gun, as I’m right next to him, but I drop the bag and duck it , I swing back managing to catch his liver and he crumbles to the ground. I lower my gaze and attempt to pick the bag up and head off, but he rolls over to face me and shoots the gun straight through the top of my shoulder, grazing it as it digs into the wall. I kick him in the head and he holds onto my leg, tipping me onto the floor. He is trying his damndest to put the gun to my head but I’m using both hands to keep it aimed above me. After a lot of rough and tumble I manage to grab his scruff and throw him over my shoulder, but he is still holding on and as we both fall both our hands get impaled in the upstanding legs of the overturned coffee table. I’m afraid it only got bloodier, but I’ll save you the details.
Never since have I been pushed that far, and I still have that bulging scar in my hand to remind me of that day. For the many years I have been homeless I always had a moment to look over it. In the years I was a tramp, with the reputation I obtained, it became increasingly rare that anyone gave me food or money. It was very rare for someone to stop altogether. Though one night, when I was particularly hungry and just trying to get to sleep, it must have been around two in the morning when some drunk man came out of a nightclub and stumbled over to me and starting to piss all over my tent. That’s when I snapped. I cut through the side of the tent with my knife and let’s just say I made another opening for him to pee. I stopped his suffering short by snapping his neck, so I’m not a total monster. I throw the body to one side and turn my gaze over to the other side of the road, when there is just one old man , staring at me. He is in a black suit, with his left hand holding a walking stick , hunched over on it he must have seen the whole thing. He straightens his back out and rests the stick against his leg and begins to clap me. “Well done boy” I hear him say rather jovially as he walks over to meet me. “Don’t piss me off old man” I remember saying as I thought of his remark quite patronising, but he professes “No no, that was very good, quick , efficient. I need someone like that.”
“What for?”
“I have a house about twenty minutes from here that could do with someone like you watching over it.”
“I see. And how much are you paying me?”
“I’ll start you on £50 an hour, and we’ll see how you go. Try not to kill anyone if you don’t have to. And if you can do that, then I’ll up it.” I take a moment to think. I wouldn’t be completely on my terms, but I can at least have a stable job, and it incorporates the only thing I’m reasonably good at.
“When do I start?”
“Could you do tomorrow?”
“No I’m afraid I’m busy.”
He laughs , and out of his side jacket pocket he pulls out a note which contains the address of the house, and another which contains the rules. I take a minute to skim them and I see that amongst other things, that whoever approaches the mansion and wants access must provide a code, otherwise they must leave or I guess that’s where my “skills” come into play.
“See you at midnight tomorrow,” he chirps and with that he heads off down the road.
I crawl back into my tent, preparing for the next day.
Midnight rolls around, and I see he is outside the door waiting for me. The door is quite a ways away from the gate surrounding the house, as there is a long driveway to the main entrance. The gates are a very sharp, clear black and I can see my scrubby reflection in them. He opens the gate and welcomes me in through the telecom, and as I approach he greets me by tossing a suit of clothes at me.
“Wear this, I’m not paying you to guard this house looking like that.”
I grumble as I get changed in front of him and shortly after he pulls out a gun and hands it to me.
“If you ask them twice and they refuse to give you the code, I’ll give you permission to use that.”
“Very well.”
He walks with me down to the main gate, where his chauffeur is waiting.
“See you later, all in one piece hopefully,” he smiles and he is assisted into the back and the two of them are gone. The gates slam shut behind me and my shift begins.After what must’ve been only a couple hours does someone finally turn in for the mansion. It’s a massive Jeep , blacked out with large rims and all the other intimidating attributes you can think of. It pulls up next to me, and a slim, clean shaven face greets me, though the white collared shirt he is wearing has been pulled up to conceal his facial expression.
“Code.”
He scrolls the window down halfway but slurs his numbers so I can’t make out what he is saying.
“Speak properly.” I mutter, but he is obviously under the influence of something, and is immediately ruffled by my remark , and the other voices to the side and in the back are giggling, spurring him on. He lowers the window the full way and shouts the numbers in my face. “That better?” He shouts, and no sooner does he try to get clever do I grab him by his scruff and politely tell him - “Shout at me again, and I might dent you precious little Jeep here”, showing him my gun and I tap it on the side of his door. But he doesn’t seem to notice or acknowledge my threat, he just stares , stares at the scar in my hand that I’m holding him with. He goes silent, and looks up at me. He takes his hand off the wheel and lines his hand up with mine, and I can see the scars match.
“I can’t believe I’ve run into you again”, he shakes his head and looks down with a wry smile , “hopefully this doesn’t go like last time” he laughs but the others don’t join in , they have no idea what we’re on about. I smile and type the code in and let them through. He comes more and more often, in the same jeep but with more people. More cars start to come, and I’m starting to let in around thirty people at a time. Since we’ve sort of become reacquainted I don’t bother with the code anymore and I just let them in. A couple weeks go by and I’m started to get invited to his other parties. I’ve never been to a party. Or I guess what most people would constitute one. With the money I’m making from this gig I can actually afford to go out, buy stuff and sleep in a bed. In my own house. Maybe it’s making me softer I don’t know, but I notice that I’m starting to get along with people. Through twisted friendship have I started down the path of the straight and narrow. While I don’t think my thirst for blood will ever completely go, I can begin to talk about things other than bloodshed or how about I kicked some guy threw a window. In fact, I’ve got quite a lot to tell you about what happened last night, but I’ll save that for another one. Take care.
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[WP] Desperate for work, you’ve accepted a job in private security, guarding an ominous mansion. You’re given a gun and told to let no one in the gate without a code. When a car full of quipping, flirting, arrogant people show up at the gate, it dawns on you: you’ve been hired as a henchman.
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I sighed as the supervisor for my last minute security job droned on.
"And no one is allowed on the premises. So if you see anyone radio me and I'll come down and take care of it,"
My hand travelled to the gun holster on my belt.
"Then what's the gun for?" I queried.
The supervisor barely looked up from his clip board "It's just flash. No one is going to give you a hard time if they see the gun. It only has one bullet anyway,"
The left side of my mouth scrunched up as I tried to piece this situation all together.
"I don't know a lot about guns," I replied "but I feel like a rule is you're not supposed to flash them around?"
Another guard standing by quickly replied "It's probably not gonna matter,"
The supervisor stared at me through his shades. "You're at the gatehouse kid. No code no entry,"
Even though his statement was matter-of-fact I still found myself having the usual first day questions.
"Well what if there's a delivery?" I chimed
"No code no entry," his tone was flat
"Late guests?"
"No code, no entry,"
"But what if-"
The supervisor held up his hand "No code. NO ENTRY," as he spoke each word he flailed the clipboard until it was centimeters from my face.
"No code. No entry," i relented.
**
My eyes kept finding reasons to close as the night wore on. At first it was a rush of incoming guests at the gate. Their clothes were drenched in luxury and they barely saw me as they tapped the code in. One by one they waltzed by, unafraid of the scraggly youth with his rent-a-pistol. As the crowd thinned at the gate, the mansion boomed with laughter and music.
"Why couldn't i be the kitchen guard" i mumbled to myself in between naps. I found myself, again, questioning all my life choices that lead me to this very moment. A quick job that turned into a necessary career because bills don't care about your dreams. A girlfriend fed up with the monotony of mediocre American life. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I felt the heat of personal responsibility rise up in my blood.
Suddenly, as if to remove me from my sleep-like stupor a car full of intensely sexy individuals drove up to the guard house. A sharp double honk of the horn grabbed my attention.
The car was a smooth glossy black so shiny you could brush your teeth in the reflection and never miss a spot. As the driver side window rolled down I got a good look inside.
A redheaded woman with eyes that pierced through my soul. A black man with the most handsome face I've ever seen. A pair of twins, one female one male who at certain angles seemed to switch genders. And the driver wore shades that barely covered the fact that his eyes were glowing.
"Excuse us can we-"
I put my finger up "You guys are superheroes aren't you?"
Everyone in the car looked very nervous, they all start reaching for what I assume were weapons.
"Hold on hod on. They paid me up front," I tossed the gun at the driver " I gotta start making changes in my life and I'm gonna start doing that before you break all my bones and incinerate my coworkers."
The driver looked very confused, as did his needlessly sexy cohorts. "Are you sure, we have the codes,"
I wave him off "You misunderstand, friend. If I let you through with the code they're gonna know I let you in and didn't warn them. If I warn them you'll definitely shoot me with those eye lasers or something. So I am trapped between a rock and a hard place- millenial life, am i right?"
The handsome black man snorted "You know it, "
"This guy gets it. So here's what's up don't murder me? Please? And I'll let you through to do whatever it is you need to do-"
One of the twins interjected "Destroy a superhuman smuggling cartel,"
"Right you can do that. And I can get a better job. Maybe as a poster worker or perhaps a dramatic sign holder. Just a job that doesn't end with me being pummelled. Or blasted. Or...Skewered? Is that your shtick?"
The redhead dropped her head "Yeah I was totally gonna stab you if you didn't cooperate,"
"But I am cooperating. Now. In this very moment. So killing me is superfluous"
I opened the gate and stepped out of the guard house. As I walked away from the mansion it began to explode in what I could only assume was a very visually arresting and costly battle.
I didn't care though I had to apply to some new jobs.
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When I reached sixteen years of age I was immersed in drug culture, and I was the runner for drug gangs, being used to do the riskiest jobs but getting to keep the money made. It was on one fateful day though I was delivering for an especially rough area, the kind of neighbourhood where shitholes like KFC are referred to as “restaurants”. It started to come down with rain but the guy’s house is just on the corner of the road. There’s rubbish scattered all over the front garden and the bins are overflowing, the top left window has been broken and wooden planks have been put over it. The last time it was painted was probably fifty years ago, as the white paint has faded to grey . I knock on the door, and it immediately swings open letting me into the entire living room. The guy is sitting in an oversized leather chair facing the door with a gun pointed to it, but as he sees me, all seems to be well and he lowers it. “I’m delivering the drugs you ordered yesterday” I mumble, and he gets up , lowering his head with a slight smile and takes the bag off me.
He takes a look inside and the smile promptly vanishes.
“What’s this?” He says sharply. Confused, I take a look inside and as I inspect he says “I ordered three times this amount , and where are the scales ? I said I wanted them included.” “I don’t know where your fucking scales are, do you want that or not?” I couldn’t care less if this isn’t what he wanted, I have many orders to do, so he’ll have to take it of leave it.
His eyes look as if they want to jump out and hit me themselves, as they’re practically bursting from their sockets. He swings his right hand attempting to hit me with his gun, as I’m right next to him, but I drop the bag and duck it , I swing back managing to catch his liver and he crumbles to the ground. I lower my gaze and attempt to pick the bag up and head off, but he rolls over to face me and shoots the gun straight through the top of my shoulder, grazing it as it digs into the wall. I kick him in the head and he holds onto my leg, tipping me onto the floor. He is trying his damndest to put the gun to my head but I’m using both hands to keep it aimed above me. After a lot of rough and tumble I manage to grab his scruff and throw him over my shoulder, but he is still holding on and as we both fall both our hands get impaled in the upstanding legs of the overturned coffee table. I’m afraid it only got bloodier, but I’ll save you the details.
Never since have I been pushed that far, and I still have that bulging scar in my hand to remind me of that day. For the many years I have been homeless I always had a moment to look over it. In the years I was a tramp, with the reputation I obtained, it became increasingly rare that anyone gave me food or money. It was very rare for someone to stop altogether. Though one night, when I was particularly hungry and just trying to get to sleep, it must have been around two in the morning when some drunk man came out of a nightclub and stumbled over to me and starting to piss all over my tent. That’s when I snapped. I cut through the side of the tent with my knife and let’s just say I made another opening for him to pee. I stopped his suffering short by snapping his neck, so I’m not a total monster. I throw the body to one side and turn my gaze over to the other side of the road, when there is just one old man , staring at me. He is in a black suit, with his left hand holding a walking stick , hunched over on it he must have seen the whole thing. He straightens his back out and rests the stick against his leg and begins to clap me. “Well done boy” I hear him say rather jovially as he walks over to meet me. “Don’t piss me off old man” I remember saying as I thought of his remark quite patronising, but he professes “No no, that was very good, quick , efficient. I need someone like that.”
“What for?”
“I have a house about twenty minutes from here that could do with someone like you watching over it.”
“I see. And how much are you paying me?”
“I’ll start you on £50 an hour, and we’ll see how you go. Try not to kill anyone if you don’t have to. And if you can do that, then I’ll up it.” I take a moment to think. I wouldn’t be completely on my terms, but I can at least have a stable job, and it incorporates the only thing I’m reasonably good at.
“When do I start?”
“Could you do tomorrow?”
“No I’m afraid I’m busy.”
He laughs , and out of his side jacket pocket he pulls out a note which contains the address of the house, and another which contains the rules. I take a minute to skim them and I see that amongst other things, that whoever approaches the mansion and wants access must provide a code, otherwise they must leave or I guess that’s where my “skills” come into play.
“See you at midnight tomorrow,” he chirps and with that he heads off down the road.
I crawl back into my tent, preparing for the next day.
Midnight rolls around, and I see he is outside the door waiting for me. The door is quite a ways away from the gate surrounding the house, as there is a long driveway to the main entrance. The gates are a very sharp, clear black and I can see my scrubby reflection in them. He opens the gate and welcomes me in through the telecom, and as I approach he greets me by tossing a suit of clothes at me.
“Wear this, I’m not paying you to guard this house looking like that.”
I grumble as I get changed in front of him and shortly after he pulls out a gun and hands it to me.
“If you ask them twice and they refuse to give you the code, I’ll give you permission to use that.”
“Very well.”
He walks with me down to the main gate, where his chauffeur is waiting.
“See you later, all in one piece hopefully,” he smiles and he is assisted into the back and the two of them are gone. The gates slam shut behind me and my shift begins.After what must’ve been only a couple hours does someone finally turn in for the mansion. It’s a massive Jeep , blacked out with large rims and all the other intimidating attributes you can think of. It pulls up next to me, and a slim, clean shaven face greets me, though the white collared shirt he is wearing has been pulled up to conceal his facial expression.
“Code.”
He scrolls the window down halfway but slurs his numbers so I can’t make out what he is saying.
“Speak properly.” I mutter, but he is obviously under the influence of something, and is immediately ruffled by my remark , and the other voices to the side and in the back are giggling, spurring him on. He lowers the window the full way and shouts the numbers in my face. “That better?” He shouts, and no sooner does he try to get clever do I grab him by his scruff and politely tell him - “Shout at me again, and I might dent you precious little Jeep here”, showing him my gun and I tap it on the side of his door. But he doesn’t seem to notice or acknowledge my threat, he just stares , stares at the scar in my hand that I’m holding him with. He goes silent, and looks up at me. He takes his hand off the wheel and lines his hand up with mine, and I can see the scars match.
“I can’t believe I’ve run into you again”, he shakes his head and looks down with a wry smile , “hopefully this doesn’t go like last time” he laughs but the others don’t join in , they have no idea what we’re on about. I smile and type the code in and let them through. He comes more and more often, in the same jeep but with more people. More cars start to come, and I’m starting to let in around thirty people at a time. Since we’ve sort of become reacquainted I don’t bother with the code anymore and I just let them in. A couple weeks go by and I’m started to get invited to his other parties. I’ve never been to a party. Or I guess what most people would constitute one. With the money I’m making from this gig I can actually afford to go out, buy stuff and sleep in a bed. In my own house. Maybe it’s making me softer I don’t know, but I notice that I’m starting to get along with people. Through twisted friendship have I started down the path of the straight and narrow. While I don’t think my thirst for blood will ever completely go, I can begin to talk about things other than bloodshed or how about I kicked some guy threw a window. In fact, I’ve got quite a lot to tell you about what happened last night, but I’ll save that for another one. Take care.
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[WP] Desperate for work, you’ve accepted a job in private security, guarding an ominous mansion. You’re given a gun and told to let no one in the gate without a code. When a car full of quipping, flirting, arrogant people show up at the gate, it dawns on you: you’ve been hired as a henchman.
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I sighed as the supervisor for my last minute security job droned on.
"And no one is allowed on the premises. So if you see anyone radio me and I'll come down and take care of it,"
My hand travelled to the gun holster on my belt.
"Then what's the gun for?" I queried.
The supervisor barely looked up from his clip board "It's just flash. No one is going to give you a hard time if they see the gun. It only has one bullet anyway,"
The left side of my mouth scrunched up as I tried to piece this situation all together.
"I don't know a lot about guns," I replied "but I feel like a rule is you're not supposed to flash them around?"
Another guard standing by quickly replied "It's probably not gonna matter,"
The supervisor stared at me through his shades. "You're at the gatehouse kid. No code no entry,"
Even though his statement was matter-of-fact I still found myself having the usual first day questions.
"Well what if there's a delivery?" I chimed
"No code no entry," his tone was flat
"Late guests?"
"No code, no entry,"
"But what if-"
The supervisor held up his hand "No code. NO ENTRY," as he spoke each word he flailed the clipboard until it was centimeters from my face.
"No code. No entry," i relented.
**
My eyes kept finding reasons to close as the night wore on. At first it was a rush of incoming guests at the gate. Their clothes were drenched in luxury and they barely saw me as they tapped the code in. One by one they waltzed by, unafraid of the scraggly youth with his rent-a-pistol. As the crowd thinned at the gate, the mansion boomed with laughter and music.
"Why couldn't i be the kitchen guard" i mumbled to myself in between naps. I found myself, again, questioning all my life choices that lead me to this very moment. A quick job that turned into a necessary career because bills don't care about your dreams. A girlfriend fed up with the monotony of mediocre American life. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I felt the heat of personal responsibility rise up in my blood.
Suddenly, as if to remove me from my sleep-like stupor a car full of intensely sexy individuals drove up to the guard house. A sharp double honk of the horn grabbed my attention.
The car was a smooth glossy black so shiny you could brush your teeth in the reflection and never miss a spot. As the driver side window rolled down I got a good look inside.
A redheaded woman with eyes that pierced through my soul. A black man with the most handsome face I've ever seen. A pair of twins, one female one male who at certain angles seemed to switch genders. And the driver wore shades that barely covered the fact that his eyes were glowing.
"Excuse us can we-"
I put my finger up "You guys are superheroes aren't you?"
Everyone in the car looked very nervous, they all start reaching for what I assume were weapons.
"Hold on hod on. They paid me up front," I tossed the gun at the driver " I gotta start making changes in my life and I'm gonna start doing that before you break all my bones and incinerate my coworkers."
The driver looked very confused, as did his needlessly sexy cohorts. "Are you sure, we have the codes,"
I wave him off "You misunderstand, friend. If I let you through with the code they're gonna know I let you in and didn't warn them. If I warn them you'll definitely shoot me with those eye lasers or something. So I am trapped between a rock and a hard place- millenial life, am i right?"
The handsome black man snorted "You know it, "
"This guy gets it. So here's what's up don't murder me? Please? And I'll let you through to do whatever it is you need to do-"
One of the twins interjected "Destroy a superhuman smuggling cartel,"
"Right you can do that. And I can get a better job. Maybe as a poster worker or perhaps a dramatic sign holder. Just a job that doesn't end with me being pummelled. Or blasted. Or...Skewered? Is that your shtick?"
The redhead dropped her head "Yeah I was totally gonna stab you if you didn't cooperate,"
"But I am cooperating. Now. In this very moment. So killing me is superfluous"
I opened the gate and stepped out of the guard house. As I walked away from the mansion it began to explode in what I could only assume was a very visually arresting and costly battle.
I didn't care though I had to apply to some new jobs.
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**Part 1:**
Morty stared out at the empty drive ahead of him, counting the seconds until his shift ended, his boredom accentuated by the occasional chirp of a cricket or hoot of an owl from the surrounding forest. His fingers drummed restlessly on the holster at his belt. At first, the gun had freaked him out, I mean, seriously, a real, loaded weapon? No training? Just his signature on the employment contract? But after night after night of the endless waiting, he was used to the weight on his hip.
He had, you know, taken it out a few times. Held it in his hands. Practiced a few “quick draws.”
“Freeze, scumbag!” He’d shout, pointing the weapon at a particularly ominous tree. “I hope it was worth it!” He’d hiss, leveling the weapon at an especially nefarious shrub. His second week on the job, he’d been trying to spin the gun around his finger, like they do in the movies, when the stupid thing discharged and blew a hole in the pavement, inches from his right foot.
“Shit! Shit! Oh Jesus!” He’d screamed, throwing it to the ground like a hot coal and leaping away in terror. His radio buzzed and a voice emanated from his headset a moment later: “Henderson. Report. We heard gunshots.” His boss, Jameson, had one of those deep, powerfully intimidating kind of voices, and in his panic, both at the gunshot still ringing in his ears and losing his job, his mouth moved faster than his brain. “Uhhh, no problem here. Nothing to report. Just scaring off some kids who were throwing rocks at the gate.”
There was a pause, then his boss spoke again, “Sounds good. Do you need a cleanup?”
*A cleanup?* Morty thought. *What the fuck does that mean?* “... nope!” he said cheerily into the radio. “No cleanup needed here!” *What do they think I did? Shoot a kid?*
Eventually, he decided it’d just been an office prank. Asking if he’d needed a cleanup crew indeed. But nonetheless, that had been the end of his impromptu practice session with the weapon. Now, it sat motionless on his belt, a mere accessory to augment the veneer of authority and self-dignity he’d pretend when looking at himself in the mirror dressed in his fancy uniform. The black outfit with red accents had a sharp, grave look, and always lent a somber tone to his practice sessions with the baton on his other hip, which he’d taken up with ferocity following the oh-shit-I-accidentally-nearly-shot-myself incident.
But tonight, he’d exhausted his limited vocabulary of fighting moves and karate noises with the baton. He’d exhausted fiddling with his official radio and he’d exhausted his patience for trying to identify distinct bird sounds. And thus, a mere halfway through his shift, he stood, watching the incoming drive, bored out of his mind.
“Oh god, oh god, oh god.” He groaned to himself, taking off his stylish beret with one hand while running the other through his hair. “You can do this Morty. It’s only” He checked his watch, “holy christ five more hours?!” He breathed, a long, arduous sound accompanying the outflow of air. “Ok. Five more hours. It could be worse. Just five more hours. Then, only” he did some more mental arithmetic “three more days until the weekend.” he said, voice trailing off. Some days, life just seemed impossible.
But then, with sudden wonder, Morty perked up. He heard something--a distant roar, an engine, rushing down the drive. *Visitors!* He thought, with sudden excitement. This was his favorite part of the job. Greeting the sporadic ensemble of strange personages who came to visit the mansion of Dr. Arcturo Borea, his ultimate employer. Speaking with an artificially deep, gruff voice, he’d pronounce, “Name and identification, please,” and they would *actually listen to him!* Then he’d walk--slowly, mind you--back to the little hut and check their names on the schedule listed, then compare the picture on the ID to the picture in the schedule. Lastly, he’d wave one of those little UV flashlights over the ID. He had no idea what he was looking for with that, but they always did it at airports and stuff, and there’d been one in his kit when he started, and boy did it make him feel cool. Then, just because he could, he’d slowly raise his eyes from the screen and give the expensive--Dr. Borea’s visitors *always* drove expensive cars--car a long probing look. At least, he thought it was probing. When he’d showed it to his girlfriend, she’d told him he just looked constipated. But still. He’d give the car a visual inspection, then slowly approach the vehicle, return their ID, then say, in that same, deep voice, “You can go on through now.”
So, with renewed vigor, Morty straightened, running a hair through his hair and fixing the Beret back in place. Quick work with his hands to straighten the uniform’s collar and shoulder accents, to verify all his gear was appropriately displayed on his belt, then he took up his post in the middle of the road, as the roar of the approaching engine grew rapidly louder. Only then did the thought strike him: *Wait... but there weren’t any visitors on the log for today.* Even as the thought began to sink in, a car screamed around the road, drifting through the curve masterfully, accelerating smoothly as it straightened out and continued to rocket straight towards him, with no hint of slowing down.
Morty, naturally, screamed. “AAAAGHAGAGGAGGHGGHGHGHGHGHH!!!!”
At the last possible moment, the car swerved sharply to avoid him, skidding off the road and spinning out of control, its rear end impacting with the brick foundation of the fence with a crunch.
Morty continued screaming. “AAGAGAGHHHGGHAAAGHAGH!!” His whole body was trembling. He had almost just been run down!
Morty’s screaming began to waver as he ran out of air, and as it did he heard the unmistakable sound of a car down opening. Four suspiciously attractive people exited the vehicle, two men and two women, their lean, muscled bodies taught in all the right places for their respective gender norms. Though he could easily differentiate their faces from one another, they each had that same, young-attractive-CW-warehouse vibe that made them somehow fade together in his mind in a vague blur of youth, fecundity, and overly perfect faces.
“Told you he wouldn’t move.” Said the taller of the two women, “You owe me fifty bucks. Borea hires competent muscle.”
“Oh, you’ll get your money, Moonfire.” The shorter of the two men, who’d been driving the vehicle, said with a perfect, rakish grin, then added seriously, “Just as soon as we shut down Borea’s bioweapon factory!”
The group came to a stop in front of Morty, who hadn’t moved from where he’d frozen in the middle of the street. They arrayed themselves in a tight knot in front of him in a perfectly photogenic fashion, their heights and physiques balanced in perfect visual harmony.
“Tsk Tsk Tsk” the woman, Moonfire, Morty guessed, said, her eyes tracing up the shorter man’s muscled physique. “All work and no play makes Shockwave a dull boy.” As she said it, she ran a finger up the side of his arm in a way that made Morty feel vaguely uncomfortable, like when that couple in your subway car starts making out loudly two seats over and at once you both do and don’t want to look.
“Now’s no time for joking around, Moonfire!” Said the other woman in an almost comically serious voice. “The world is counting on us! If Borea’s contagion is released on the black market, thousands will perish!”
“Yeah!” Said the taller man, twirling a... a sort of, staff? Morty guessed? Around his hand in a dramatic flourish. “We’ve got to get inside the gate, then infiltrate the auction, find out where the weapon is being held, then steal it and destroy it! And besides,” he said, flashing brilliant teeth in an eager, confident grin, “There’s bound to be a fight!”
In the manner of one who has nearly died, Morty found his mind focusing on the strangest details of this odd encounter. Such as, *Who were they explaining this all to? Him?* Or, *Why were they all standing so close together? Didn’t they realize normal people like some goddamn personal space?* Or, *Who actually legitimately uses the word ‘perish’ anymore?*
But, he didn’t ask the group any of those things. He didn’t ask them anything. Instead, he shouted, “You almost just hit me with your car! What the hell!”
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[WP] You blow a flat tire while driving through the middle of nowhere in a foreign country. After a brief call with the rental company they inform you there is a jack in the trunk of the car. When you go to open the trunk a man pops out and greets you, his name is Jack.
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"Yup, looks like you got yourself a flat, huh?" He ran the length of his arm across his nose, snorting loudly. He kneeled down next to the tire and pulled shaggy hair away from his eyes to get a better look.
"I'm assumin' you got something to pull out the bolts from the tire, right?" he asked without looking back to me.
I was still standing in front of the truck, my mouth agape looking at the man who just crawled out of a trunk that hadn't been opened in at least thirty hours. I was making a trip across the state and was sleeping in the car for the past day. Where had this guy been? Where had he been going to the bathroom?
"Hey there, you doin' all right? The flat shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, you'll get goin' in no time," he said wiping away a glob of sweat that had accumulated on his forehead. His returned as quick as he wiped it away.
"Uhhh... yeah," I stammered. "How are you--"
"Gonna help you out? I'm the car Jack. I'm gonna hold up the car, obviously. You don't need to worry about how long it'll take, I can do it for however long you need," he said, grinning a crooked, but sincere grin. I was going to ask how he was alive, not how he was going to help, but I guess he looked healthy enough. His arms did not look like they could hold up the weight of my car, though.
"I'm sorry, I'm still trying to understand this... You've been in my car for how long?" I asked.
"How long have you had the car?" he asked, sweat rolling off his face. He tried, fruitlessly, to wipe more off his forehead.
"Two years, but--"
"I've been in there for two years," he pointed to the trunk, a powerful smell emanating from his raised arm.
"No, that's impossible, there's no way you could be in there for that long. Why are you in my car?"
"I'm the car Jack," he repeated as if it was an obvious answer.
"No, I mean are you homeless or something? When did you sneak in--" he stopped me by rolling under my car and lifting it up with apparent ease. I took a step back, afraid he was going to drop it on himself, but he kept it at arm's length, waiting patiently.
"You got a spare, I know that much. I've been cramped up with it for a long time," he said, matter-of-factly.
I looked down at the open trunk and saw the tire he was referring to. Next to it was a puddle of either sweat or urine, and a handful of granola bar wrappers. I pulled out the tire and rolled it over to my flat. Jack was unscrewing the bolts with his bare hand.
"How are you..?" I said, more to myself than to him.
"Oh, the bolt thing? I'm kind of a Jack of all trades. I can do the whole job if you wanna wait in the car," he offered. I nodded, numbly, not able to compute any more of the conversation nor the situation laying itself out before me. As soon as I closed the door, I felt the car rocking a few times before finally being set down on a new wheel. Jack stood up, smiling affably, sweat slipping off his chin. He nodded once and made his way to the trunk where he put the flat tire in, then crawled in after it. Before the trunk closed, I heard,
"Don't forget to replace this tire with a good one before you get another flat. I use it as a pillow, so if it's too soft, my sleep is all Jacked up."
The trunk closed, and I was left in the stunned silence of my car.
_______________________________
For more stories, come and check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
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"Hi there!" out came a voice as Ellis popped open the boot.
"... What the–"
"I'm Jack. Not jack as in the thing you use to raise the car, but Jack as in a person. Don't worry, I can help you out," the strange man, claiming to be 'Jack' said as he climbed out of the boot.
Ellis reflexively leaped back and took a stick from the ground. She held the stick like a knight would with a sword. Of course this course of action was only natural for a 20-year old woman being approached by a strange man in a strange land, alone. Sensing Ellis' overt guard, Jack took out a strange device. The device was all glass and had a few pictures on it. He then openly displayed it to Ellis so that she could get a better view.
"This here device is a universal remote control, I can control *almost* anything with this," Jack explained whilst waving the device, "observe!"
*Almost, huh?* Ellis thought at the ominous word.
With a point-and-click, the car was suddenly raised a good 30 cm above the ground. Ellis could not help but stared at the bizarre phenomenon with her mouth opened wide.
"W-What is this? Are you fucking with me?" Ellis asked.
"Fu... No! I'm simply trying to show that you can depend on me to help you out. I can control *almost* anything!"
"You've been saying that twice now – the word *almost*. Why? I thought a universal controller is supposed to be *universal*–"
Jack stepped forward and Ellis immediately raised her stick whilst shaking her head as if saying, 'not a step closer, na-ah!'
As Jack picked up on the signal, he smiled and said, "oh, sorry! Didn't mean to startle you. Well, I can control things – move them, manipulate their sizes, change colours, etc. – but... as an employee of the rental company, I can't do all those things to *you* or whatever you're holding."
He demonstrated this by showing her the option on his device which said 'destroy' and pointed towards her and her stick. At first, she was about to lunged forth to strike first at him before he could presumably harm her. But when he clicked on the option, there was a resounding buzzing sound and red alert screen coming from the device. She relaxed for a minute though at this point she just wanted to run away. The excitement from seeing a strange man coming out of the boot – not to mention the thought of him being there *all along* – and the still floating car was too much for her to handle.
*I better get some goddamn drink soon or Imma pounce on this damn man! A vodka would be nice right now, yeah...*
"I see... Well, here ya go!" Jack suddenly said and he clicked his device.
"H-Huh?!"
Ellis was stunned when out of nowhere a bottle of vodka had appeared in front of her.
"Oh, don't worry about that! I got you covered, but may I recommend drinking that later once we arrived at your hotel?" Jack said as he picked up the bottle and brandished a smile.
"Just... Just what are you?" Ellis said as she dropped the stick unintentionally.
"I'm an employee of the rental company, Jack! I'm here to help you–"
"Yeah, sure. Just change the goddamn tire and go back in the boot, mate."
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[WP] A large group of scientists are suddenly transported into a world of swords and sorcery. Fascinated by magic, they begin to study it and turn it into a new field of science, modifying and harnessing it in ways never before thought possible.
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"Do you think this is really safe?" Reinia circled around a massive crystal, supported with steel scaffold, etched with thousand upon thousand of holographic glyph. Her wind-imbued lab coat elegantly avoided any sharp edges. "We've never tried casting something on this scale before."
"It *should* be safe. We rechecked the activation sequence a million times. *You* rechecked it a million times. There shouldn't be any harmonic overload."
"Yeah but still. Thirty thousand sequences is a big leap from fifteen."
"And fifteen was a massive leap from three simultaneous cast this world once thought was the limit. Besides, we're here. We could shatter the crystal at any moment, if the spell failed." With a simple tap on a pink crystal, an exploded view of spells etched in the massive crystal projected into the cylindrical room.
"David is right." An old man walked into the room, his coat was almost as much glyph engraving as it is white surface. "Every time a hologram talisman was activated, it is a proof that supports the underlying theory of this system--and a testament of its safety. But Reinia's worries aren't unfounded either. If only for mental reassurance, let's recheck each segment once again."
A blue light appeared on the bottom part of the projection, and soon it expanded, jumping glyph to glyph, simulating the flow of mana through the activation sequence. As it reached the topmost glyph, the blue light blurred and formed one massive glyph.
*Earth. A glyph formed by combining the various glyph denoting different world, and inferring one of it through months of continuous automated scrying. Even if it's not the Earth we came from, this would at least prove that interdimensional travel is possible.* Renia skimmed through the glyph once again, but only out of habit. *If I can't find a bug before, it's unlikely I'd find one now.*
"Keys in ignition, Lady and Gentleman." The old man grinned as he pulled out a crystal from his pocket, etched with a spell to tap into the leylines. Reinia and David each pulled their own. *Let's hope we aren't re-enacting Doom here.*
""""Cast!""" The three of them inserted their crystals to their respective receptacles, pouring their mana, and the crystal monolith thrummed with power.
And then it disappeared. In its place, a rip in space time, leading into a new world.
"Is it Earth? Reinia, confirm the location!" The rip showed a desert filled with orange and red sand. Reinia pulled her smartphone--one of the few belongings they brought from their old home.
"I got GPS reading. I got GPS! We did it! It's Earth! It's actually Earth!" Reinia can't help but laugh in euphoria.
The rip started to shrink, as the mana dissipated through two worlds.
"Okay, we cut the power as planned, from David, me, and then Reinia. Let's celebrate *after* we regained access to modern amenities."
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[Poem]
The moment of truth was seconds away,
Our glory of turning lead to gold couldn't be swayed,
A little this, a little that, all mixed and heated,
Half of the crew too nervous to stay seated,
"Pull the switch!" Out manager shouted,
At the drop of a dime, the assistant obeyed,
In half a second the whole room was heated,
But not gold, instead a blackhole was created,
It felt like we would freeze, a moment ago cremated,
I came apart, each atom stretched to the seem,
All of us pulled into a nether realm we'd never seen,
Glorious geometry flickered in patterns,
The darkness fluctuated like an insivible lantern,
Disembodied laughter came from all around,
And just like that we plopped into a new town.
One knight jousted with a man with two heads,
"Good lord, this is better than gold from lead!"
We all looked at each other and nodded agreement,
Fireballs zoomed past, you should have seen it!
Icebergs dropping and lighting zapping,
All from the staff of a single man laughing.
The knight we spied approached us there,
"My good men, what strange adornment you wear"
Yet, he himself sported a tunic of turnips,
And the two headed man wore a vest of burnt lips,
They whispered words, too quiet to hear,
As he came closer I realized he had the legs of deer.
I was the first to work up courage and nerve,
"Good knight, two head wizard deer, who do you serve?"
They looked at each other pondering the moment,
"Come with us, we will introduce you at the summit."
Two hours it took for us to reach the point,
A half pig, half man guarded the door, named sir oink,
He turned and nodded at the wizard creature,
Opened the door to the castle, behind a theater,
Two more wizards on a single stage,
Casting spells at each other like men half their age,
One spell spawned a swarm of sea horses,
The immediately hit the floor and became corpses,
The crowd laughed as the other drew his sword,
From the tip came beavers in a mighty horde,
The charged forth with froth from their mouth,
Then surrounded the wizard in the shape of a house,
A man poked me in the ribs, I didnt notice him approach,
"The hell are you, some mid timey roach?"
It turned out he was the king of the castle,
After two hours of talk, we got the truth from the rascal.
The hear was three thousand and three,
The last true humans on earth were us scientists, see,
In twenty twenty, there was a nuclear war,
And all humans and animals mixed together,
We got permission to study their ways,
So we did for years, each day after day,
We learned their magic by watching their plays,
And created a machine to blow them all away.
At the press of a button out came roast mutton,
Forever onward there was no more huntin',
It looked like a donut and spun something rightous,
We named it after the titan because none would fight us,
We had every possible spell from earthquakes to flame,
We had studied them and won their own game,
But this is where the tale gets a little screwed,
We thought why cast one spell we we could cast two,
We began mixing many elements together,
We created an ice ball that exploded to feathers,
We made fireballs that could shoot under ground,
We turned an ant colony into the colon of a hound,
Fish began falling from the rain clouds above,
Then we made lighting into the shape of a dove.
We decided to go back to our original plan,
Making gold from lead was finally at hand,
The machine spun and roared and we were excited,
But the black hole opened again, once more we were inside it,
The laughter reversed. and the geometry played backwards,
When we settle back down the room spun as though i was plastered,
Only one minute had passed since we first left,
The lab director smacked his head, "I said pull the lever you pest!"
So he pulled the lever and we were at it again,
You wouldnt believe what happened then...
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[WP] You open your chemistry textbook to find flourishing notes scrawled in all the margins. On the first page, The Fundamentals of Chemistry is crossed out, replaced with one word: Alchemy.
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“Chemistry is defined as what?” The Professor asked the class. He stood in front of his prized virtual whiteboard, periodically tapping his pointer on the palm of his other hand. “Any takers on this? Yes, you, Auburns!” He aimed his pointer as Jessica Auburns, the class nerd. She had this smug look as if she owned the class, and that her brains could rival anyone here.
“Chemistry is defined as the study of the composition, properties and interactions of matter, Professor,” she proudly announced. She said ‘professor’ with an inflection.
“Ugh. What a priss,” Aaron spoke to himself. He hated Jessica. She was everything he wasn’t. Smart, popular, rich; you name it. Aaron hadn’t even opened his book, yet. He only took this class as it was an elective requirement to pass and graduate. With his chin resting in his upright palm, he poked and prodded at his chemistry book. It was a hand-me-down from the bookstore. He didn’t have the cash to buy a brand new one, so it was fished out of the dusty back room of the library. He listened as the Professor listed off other boring questions, and Jessica would always be there to answer them.
“Alright. Now that we have the basics down, let’s get the classifications down. It should be on the first page of your books. Anyone care to answer?” The Professor looked around, until he zoned in on the careless outcast in the corner. “Elric! Aaron Elric. How about you answer this one?”
“Me? Uhh, yeah. Yeah, I got it.” He quickly opened his book as all eyes stared at him. As he flipped to the first page, he noticed it. The crappy old book definitely showed its age. Scribbles and writing all over the margins, and even the title was scratched out. *Fundamentals of.. Alchemy?* He read to himself. *What?*
“Elric? Any time today? I know it might be hard, but just list off the two subdivisions of Matter.”
“Right, right. Uhh, here we are.” He still couldn’t get that silly notion of Alchemy from his mind. *Some kid must’ve got in trouble for writing all this crap.* “Um, the two subdivisions are Mixtures and Pure Substances,” he spoke aloud.
“Yes! Finally something from you. Alright class,” the Professors said, turning his attention to everyone. “Matter can be broken down to Mixtures, and Pure Substances. Two substances creating one: A mixture. Homogeneous OR Heterogeneous...”
Aaron listened to the drivel continue as he read the scribbles. Reading the words, some started to make sense.. Sort of. Rubbing his fingers over the old pen markings, he made out a few instructions and markings. *Focus mana? Huh? Draw a circle designed like this and focus mana into it?* He said quietly, earning himself a few hushes. After a little more reading, he gave in and attempted to draw a design like mentioned.
A few attempts in, he settled on a somewhat skillful design. Or *Alchemical Circle* as the book said.
Aaron placed his thumb over the circle, drawn on his significantly unused notepad, and tried focusing whatever mana was into it.
“Right! There are only two categorical properties of Matter. Physical and Ch—,“ the Professor rattled off as a loud *crash* stopped him. A glass beaker fell from Aaron’s desk and smashed into the floor. “Really, Aaron? Be more careful, next time.”
Aaron ignored him as before him, on his desk, were swirls of dissipating static, and a small crater on his desk where the circle was but moments ago. The outsides rose out in dull spikes, which was what knocked the beaker off moments before. “Uh.. Sorry, Professor. Can I please be excused to the bathroom?” He quickly asked. With a nod from the Professor, he quickly gathered his belongings and rushed out the door. What he didn’t see was the crater and the spikes dematerializing back into an unnoticeable dent in the desk.
Rushing into the bathroom, he threw his book-bag down onto the floor, and glanced at his thumb in the mirror. Before his eyes, his thumb was covered like skin with rippling granite from his desk. Visible static electricity sparked from it as it dematerialized and fell off his thumb like sand.
“What.. The Fuck...”
**Authors Note: I know absolutely nothing about chemistry, and as you’ve noticed, I borrowed his last name ;) Sorry for the exposition. This was an interesting one I couldn’t really rush with it still feeling realistic.**
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"'Squeeze a drop of lemon juice into the mixture," I read out loud to myself. "'Not a big squeeze, not a dash, a single droplet'" I looked back to the vial. "Alright, here we go."
Taking up the lemon, I cut it lengthwise and then cut it lengthwise once more to divide it into quarters. Holding it over the vial, I very carefully applied pressure to it. A single drop of pure, lemon juice, squeezed out and dropped directly into the vial. As it fell, I quickly pulled the lemon away before another drop could fall.
The lemon drop mixed with the fluid within the vial, letting out a soft puff of smoke. I double checked the book. Every step had been followed to the letter. Only one step remained:
Enjoy
I took up the vial and took a sip from it. Yeah, that was an insanely good cup of tea.
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[WP] You open your chemistry textbook to find flourishing notes scrawled in all the margins. On the first page, The Fundamentals of Chemistry is crossed out, replaced with one word: Alchemy.
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8 am. Bleary eyed, hands cupping a fresh cup of coffee I stared off into the lecture hall, wondering why I agreed to this class. Sure, I had to take The Fundamentals of Chemistry, all the Bio-engineers did but I had a system and that system was to make sure all my classes started at noon. My dorm-mate had convinced me that this class was the one to take, the professor marked easy and wasn’t strict on attendance. Which was a good thing, considering this was the third lecture and only the first one that I had managed to drag myself out of bed to.
The professor had already begun the lesson. I shook my head trying to get rid of the lingering cobwebs, took another long sip of the coffee and felt its warmth moving down my body, the caffeine finally taking affect.
“If you can all open your books to page 43, we will pick up on the last lesson, this should all be basics but seeing as this is the Fundamentals of Chemistry, I would be remiss not to start at the beginning”. I groaned, he moved fast, only day three and we are already at the end of chapter one.
Scott leaned in and whispered, “Well if you had been here”, and I just shook my head at him, and gave him a sleepy side eyed stare.
As I opened my text book, flipping absently to page 43, I noticed there was writing crammed into both of the margins, messily written but in a tidy script. Scanning through it, it looked to be mostly gibberish, I flicked back a couple pages and it was the same, forward, even more written. I flipped to the front of the book to see if there was a name or any indication of who had owned the book prior to me. I’d have to take it back to the bookshop as they clearly didn’t check the condition before selling it to me at nearly full price. The title page in the book had the word Chemistry in the title with a neat line through it, and underneath the word Alchemy penned in a flowing script.
Lost in thought the professor directed a question to me, that I answered half-heartedly, it was a grade 11 question, it wasn’t anything I hadn’t been tested on before. I took another big sip of coffee as my mind began to race. This had to be a prank, I flipped to the first page and started to read through the notes. They were all additions to what was written on the page, extensions of the chemistry if you will, just with a different flair. The rest of the class flew by as I read through the first pages of the book, starting to take notes between the two different authors, trying to make sense of what it was saying.
After class Scott dragged me to the Denny’s on campus for breakfast, to celebrate that I had made it to class. He kept asking me what I thought of the professor and the class, my answers were all distracted as my mind was still on the text book. Once we finished breakfast, I hurried back to our dorm as he went off to class, I locked myself in and dove back into the textbook.
Page 51. The first experiment, for lack of a better word. A basic transmutation. Water to ice, with just the use of a few mundane ingredients and tools. The goal was a transfer of endothermic energy out of the water, allowing the molecules that the water was composed of to form into a crystalline shape and forming ice.
I began a list. One White Feather, 3 pieces of shaved oak, a round stone smoothed by water, a copper rod and a mahogany bowl to hold the water. All peculiar but not terribly hard to source items. I spun to my laptop and began a search for an Urban Barn in the area where I could get what I needed, all they carried was eccentric oddities after all. After a few minutes of clicking, bingo. And not too far, I grabbed my coat and ran out the door right into Scott. He asked where I was in our calculus class and I mumbled something as I brushed passed him.
Forty minutes later, I had everything I needed, I had bought double of everything in case the first attempt didn’t work. I got back to the dorm and Scott was gone. I grabbed everything, layered the oak onto the feathers in the bottom of the bowl, touching each with the copper rod. Poured a glass of water that had been sitting on my desk for who knows how long added the stone and touched it with the copper rod once again.
Nothing. I held my breath and waited, still nothing. I frantically flipped through the textbook trying to find what I missed. Distilled Water. I ran out to the vending machine in the hallway and returned. As I went through the steps again, I touched the copper to the stone, and watched as the feather, and items disappeared. The Copper rod in my hand began to get hot as the water began to solidify. I was shocked. It worked. I noticed the copper was beginning to burn my hand, I dropped it on my desk, lighting the stack of papers on fire, which quickly expanded.
As I was panicking, someone began shaking me. Scott was giving me a dirty look, as I looked around disoriented, I realized the class had ended, my coffee had gone cold on my desk and I had missed lecture three. Oh well, I thought to myself, there’s always next week. I glanced suspiciously at the textbook on my desk, slowly opened it up to the cover page and it was crisp and unwritten on.
Just a dream.
​
(Looking for advice... first time posting here. Rip me apart!)
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"'Squeeze a drop of lemon juice into the mixture," I read out loud to myself. "'Not a big squeeze, not a dash, a single droplet'" I looked back to the vial. "Alright, here we go."
Taking up the lemon, I cut it lengthwise and then cut it lengthwise once more to divide it into quarters. Holding it over the vial, I very carefully applied pressure to it. A single drop of pure, lemon juice, squeezed out and dropped directly into the vial. As it fell, I quickly pulled the lemon away before another drop could fall.
The lemon drop mixed with the fluid within the vial, letting out a soft puff of smoke. I double checked the book. Every step had been followed to the letter. Only one step remained:
Enjoy
I took up the vial and took a sip from it. Yeah, that was an insanely good cup of tea.
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[WP] You are the little brother of an famous superhero, and you are always overshadowed by you perfect older sibling. After a disastrous family reunion, your older sibling tells you that they are jealous of you.
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My brother was one of those heroes that everybody has heard of. From his heroic deeds saving innocent lives, to villains trying to take over the planet, to his acts of kindness, such as kissing babies at the world parade each year. Everybody knew and adored him. At this point in his life or 'career' if you want to call it that, he was much like a world celebrity. I was especially jealous of this and often wished I had some sort of superpower. I would even settle for being his lesser sidekick.
​
The family reunion was beginning to die down when my brother approached me with a smile on his face. "Man isn't it a disaster that the entertainment didn't even show up? That's the last time I let uncle Jerry hire for something like this." My brother says letting out a long sigh. "Yeah it's a shame, but I wouldn't call it a disaster" I reply looking around at the crowd who are still quietly eating and talking. "You know, I just really was hoping for someone who can really get the crown going you know? That's honestly why I've always been a little jealous of you" my brother says making eye contact with me. "What do you mean? why, why would you be jealous of me?" I say genuinely surprised. "Well first of all.. you can juggle.. I can't juggle" my brother says with a half convincing smile on his face. "Okay you are just teasing me now.." I reply looking down at the green, freshly trimmed grass. "No seriously, it's incredible.. I'm honestly surprised you haven't taken your talents world wide" he said as he turned toward the crowded tent. The tent, which was placed on the shaded part of the grassy field stood about fifteen feet tall. It was quit large enough to fit my entire family of about twenty five people and a plus one for each guest. "Hey everybody, may I have your attention please!" My brother shouted. Everyone stopped talking at once and focused their attention on my brother and I standing in the middle of the tent. "I know that the entertainment for today did not show, but all is not lost.. my little brother here has a very special talent that he is going to share with us" I suddenly became incredible nervous as everyones focus was now on me. "Bro, what are you doing?" I whispered at my brother. "Come on bro do a little juggle for everyone, for me" my brother said looking at me with his big blue eyes. "Fine" I said relentlessly. My brother again turning his focus to the crowd said "Alright does anyone have any small object like a ball that my brother can juggle with?" "There is a bucket of oranges that uncle Jerry brought" my mom said with enthusiasm. "Those will work just great" my brother says with delight. I grab three oranges from the bucket and begin to juggle them with ease. "Okay, now someone please toss me a fourth orange" I say steadily juggling the oranges in my hands. My brother grabs a fourth orange and tosses it lightly into the moving pile of oranges in my hands. I easily catch it and add it to the moving oranges. Many of the people are surprised and give me a generous short applause. "Okay, now who wants to toss in the fifth orange" I say as a move slowly circling the middle of the tent. "Oh I'll do it" my aunt Sheryl says with excitement. Aunt Sheryl grabs a fifth orange and tosses it lightly into the pile of moving oranges. I easily catch the orange and ask for another. The crowd at this point is astonished that I am now juggling six bright oranges. I continue to add more and more oranges into the mixer. My family begins to record me as more oranges are being added. Before I even realize it a news crew has come and are breaking a live story about 'The brother of a well known superhero juggling close to a hundred and twenty oranges'. I have never gone this far with my juggling and decide to see how many more I can add before I inevitable drop one. To my surprise and the surprise of the entire on world, I am able to add all one hundred and fifty oranges, car keys, hats, shoes and everything else at the reunion people were willing to toss it to the moving cloud of juggling objects. Hours go by and I finally decide to stop, because it's getting a little mundane at this point. I let the items fall into a massive pile under the tent and everyone goes crazy with applause and excitement.
I am now known world wide as the 'Juggler' sidekick, fighting crime one juggled item at a time along side my big brother.
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I gazed out at the ocean, enjoying the cool mid-night breeze. I wanted to sear the feeling of calmness into my brain, for tomorrow I would be back at my dinghy apartment, being tormented by the incessant traffic noises.
"Can't sleep? " I didn't have to turn around to know that the deep, manly voice belonged to my brother.
"No. Thought I might as well make the best of my time here" I said, indicating towards the ocean.
Again, I didn't need to turn around to know that my response had elicited a sad smile on my brother's face. He had always known that I was jealous of him. Who wouldn't be envious of such fame, popularity, wealth... an ocean facing mansion?
He just stood came and stood next to me, leaning on the marble railing like me.
We stayed like that for a while. We were bpth men of few words, one of the very few similarities between us. You couldn't tell that if you saw him on TV, though. You would think he was an extrovert, having parties every other night at his lavish mansion, drinking with the most influential people in the world, sleeping with a different woman every night. And he did do those things, he just didn't enjoy them.
After what was probably a good half an hour of silently looking out at the silver waves, he spoke up.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Just worrying myself to death about work stuff. The usual. You? "
He took a while to respond, and knowing him as well as I did, I had a good idea of what he might have been thinking about.
"Thinking about how your life would have been if you hadn't become Captain Saviour-of-the-universe? " I answered for him.
A brief, fake smile appeared on his face. A tactic he always used to buy himself time or compose himself. After a deep sigh, he opened his mouth, but the words emerged only after a few moments had passed.
"Man, sometimes I wish I had your life. A loving wife, two wonderful children, it's all I ask for. I'm done with this superhero shit. I'm done with putting on a "cool dude" façade. I just-"
He fell silent just as abruptly he had started the conversation, reverting back to silently gazing at the ocean. I moved closer to him and hung my arm around this neck, neither of us breaking eye contact with the ocean.
After a while, the silence was broken by the arrival of the butler.
"Sir, I have the President on line 1. He is asking to speak with you. "
My brother seemed to not have heard, still staring at the ocean just as he'd been an hour ago.
"Sir, the pre-" the butler began to repeat.
"Tell him I am currently unavailable, Jeffrey. " My brother spoke to the now rising sun.
"As you wish, sir." the butler said as he excused himself.
"It's beautiful how the waves catch the sun rays, isn't it? " he said almost inaudibly.
"Yes. Yes it is beautiful. "
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[WP] You are the little brother of an famous superhero, and you are always overshadowed by you perfect older sibling. After a disastrous family reunion, your older sibling tells you that they are jealous of you.
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"And don't forget to use the code MEGAMAN to get a Soda Cola absolutely free with your Big Belly Burger! Because sometimes, Even Superheroes get thirsty!"
Megaman gave his charming signature wink as the director yelled "CUT" in his booming voice. Besides being the greatest superhero of all time, he had signed a multitude of commercial and movie deals. As he steps out of the set, he is immediately greeted by numerous teenage girls who screamed on seeing him. Megaman quickly got surrounded by his excited fans and happily signed their notebooks.
"So, Who wants to be the star of the new show?!"
"ME! ME! ME! ME!" \*The girls yell, raising their hands\*
"Just kidding, I'm the star of the show."
Megaman gave his fans a wink before flying away from the crowd. But something made him stop in his tracks.
"Oh no, the anniversary."
Megaman quickly rushed to the hotel where his parents were celebrating their 25th anniversary. He had promised to arrange a dinner party for them and be there for them, not letting the superhero stuff get in the way.
"Mom, dad I'm he- Oh."
The banquet hall was looking spectacular. The guests were already emptying out the food supplies and there were smiles all around. No one even noticed the great Superhero come in.
"Well hello Steve." said a voice
It was Clark, his younger brother. The family gem and everyone's favourite. While Steve saved the city from dangerous villains as Megaman, his brother would give the family gifts and flowers.
"I figured you were busy saving the world again so I decided to save this party. Least I could do."
A girl grabbed Clark by the hand and lead him to the dance floor, leaving Steve to ponder: Why was he so jealous of his brother?
"Ah Megaman, so nice of you to show up." said his mother, walking him to him. "We're so glad there's a person like Clark in the family."
That was it. Steve knew he had to say something. He walked up to Clark.
"Can I have a word with you?"
Clark smiled his charismatic smile and followed his elder brother to a room.
"Look, I know this is out of character but, the way everyone in the family loves you and how good you are at planning stuff..I don't know, it makes me a bit jealous to be honest."
"You're a supe-"
"I know, I know but..although I save the city from Jangledoor's terror and Makelgorl's wrath, I've never really been there for the family. So I'd like it if..you know..we could pretend like this was my idea?"
"You know what, sure big brother." said Clark with a grin.
"Thanks man, I really app-"
\*BOOM\*
There were a lot of shrieks and screams coming from the hall. Smoke filled the hall as people struggled to get out. Steve hurried out.
"You guys picked the wrong party to mess with."
A strike from out of nowhere sent the powerful Megaman flying. As he tried to get up after crashing into the well decorated wall, he saw who he was facing.
"Jangledoor, Makelgorl, Smileboi, Runningoutoffakevillainnames, all of them are here."
"KNOCK KNOCK MEGAMAN!"
"But..how..? You guys never get along. And such a coordinated attack at a private location?"
Megaman dodged Smileboi's smile attack.
"There's no way idiots like you could have planned this."
Runningoutofffakevillainnames launched a generic attack on Megaman that missed.
"Oh we had a little help."
All of them charged at Megaman at once. He stood no chance. The great Megaman lay on the floor, crippled and defeated.
​
"You wanna know the one mistake you made, Megaman?" said a voice. "You underestimated the little brother again."
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"You have always been the poster boy of the family, Steve. Not to mention you being the LITERAL poster boy for the entire damn United States! I never asked to be experimented on after the world thought you died. You never knew I existed or that dad even had another kid before he died. But I had to grow up in the shadow of Captain America! How could I ever live up to that? They tested the serum on me and it had no effect on me. What makes you so special?" I said with true vitriol and spite. The whole crowd at the Rogers family reunion was starting at this spectacle. "And being put into stasis as a teen was no picnic either since they wanted to keep me around for future experiments. They unfroze me when they realized you were still out there somewhere. So they just let me go and threw me away like yesterday's news. So I worked my hardest to make the remaining family proud but nothing I did would ever match the heroism of the infallible Captain Steve Rogers."
Steve looked at me with sorrow on his face
"I'm sorry bro." Steve said with pain in his eyes. "You didn't deserve any of that. But when I came out of the ice and saw that I had a brother and what you had achieved. It was amazing. You did all of it without any enhancements. Just you and your will power and determination. I have envied you for years now because I have to keep up a facade that is so stressful to maintain . Meanwhile you have the freedom to be raw both in talent and personality. I very often wish I was you, Aaron."
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[WP] Other alien races are known for having a specific trait that defines them as a whole. Humans are known for their radical individuality.
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"Zevrati Hiring Agency, what species are you?"
"Human."
"Human? We don't have Human in our records, what are Humans good at?"
"Whatever we choose?"
"I've never heard of *that* before, an entire species that, enmass can choose to be good at any one thing? How do you decide?"
"No. No. No. There's been a basic misunderstanding. Each individual human can choose what that single individual will be good at."
"Your joking. Zevrati's has no interest in hiring jokers."
"No joke! What's so hard with this? As a species, we are generalists. We as a species do not have a single task that we perform better than any other race! We can individually choose what we want to do as our primary skill or ability."
"Primary? You can do more than one thing? Doesn't that make other humans angry?"
"Why should it?"
"How in the deity of your choice is your species governed if you can't rank your entire species to determine who is best?"
"Popular elections?"
"Popularity contest?!?"
"Well, popular elections means that the entire population that is of legal age *may* vote for the candidate of their choice. I'll grant you that personal popularity does play a significant part."
"It still doesn't matter. If your species isn't the best at anything, then why would anyone hire you?"
"You're joking, aren't you?"
"Not at all!"
"Let me see if I've got this right. You have spaceships. Each spaceship requires, at a minimum, a captain, navigator, pilot, engineer, cook, cleaner, etcetera?"
"Well, for the sake of argument, yes. There are quite a few more positions than that."
"So using the list I gave, you have one person for each job, and aside from some, like the captain, they spend most of their time doing nothing in particular for the ship. Worse, you can't afford the aces of that species, so you're already not getting the best there is. Yet they get full pay anyway?"
"Well, yes. And it's quite expensive, which I think is your next question."
"Yep. So you're paying for all these people. What if you could hire one human that's acceptably skilled at two positions? Wouldn't that save money?"
"Yeah... It would wouldn't it."
"Okay, I'm certified as being a level 6 pilot, and a level 5 navigator. Once the course is chosen, the navigator doesn't have much to do besides track progress, and watch for unusual situations. Which I can do well enough from the pilot's position.
I'm occupying two slots, but I don't need or want two full salaries. Moreover, you've been paying ace level salaries to everyone, because no one will admit to being anything but the very best.
Humans, are required to test and rank on a regular basis, if our certified levels go up, we expect a commensurate pay increase, immediately. Of course, the reverse is true too.
So, hiring a human sounding better all the time?"
"Yesss, you could say so...
Um. Before we dive into the flames of life, do you humans have a strong fleet?"
"Where do you think *our* aces go?"
... **Six Months Later** ...
"Okay, people, we knew this was coming. Those of you with less than level 3 personal combat ratings, just keep moving. Level 3s, concentrate on close in protection. Deploy riot shields and cover everyone else. Level 4s and up, riot shields and less than lethal weapons.
Try to keep the bloodshed to a minimum."
*Angry crowd noises. Close to riot levels.* "Scabs!" "Filthy Humans!" *The human ship crews are apparently ignoring the angry protestors. A few protestors rush the humans.*
"Take them!"
*What happens next is brutal and sickening.*
*Taking a page from Ender's Game, the attackers are beaten to a bloody pulp. There is a stunned shock rippling through the crowd. Human multi-species medics perform rough but effective first aid.*
"Captain? I'd really rather not have to do that again."
"That was the point Sergeant. We did this in hopes that the message would get around. Attack us. Get pounded within an inch of your life. They're brawlers, not fighters. Their fighters are all Chirits. They're only released by Confed orders.
Make sure everyone remembers, move in groups of ten or more. No aggressive action unless assaulted."
"Aye, Sir. Sure be happy when we can go back to fleet."
"Me too, Sergeant, me too."
... **Seven Months Later. Diplomatic Mission.** ...
*Representative for the Confederation.*
"These attacks must stop. Moreover, your people *will* pick *one* skill to be best at, and cease driving our people out of work."
*Representative of Earth*
"The defense of our people will cease once your people stop attacking ours. Until then, we reserve the right to defend ourselves as preserved in the Confed charter.
We counter propose that all peoples adopt our level testing program and become certified at their proper level for each activity that they are capable of performing."
"Unthinkable! It would destroy an economic model that has worked for millenia!"
"In case you hadn't noticed, it's already been destroyed, and those who have chosen to employ humans are becoming more powerful day by day."
"Intolerable! Obey or be destroyed!"
"Bring it on."
*The human delegates stand. Their aids deploy riot shields that had been disguised as briefcases. The humans withdraw.*
*Confederation:* "So be it. Send for the Chiritian fleet."
*Human World Government:*. "Fleet alert. All human crewed ships to invoke clause 27 of standard contract. All independent humans to invoke clause 15, and remain aboard ship at all times."
... *Onboard ships across the galaxy.* ...
"Joe? I think you humans are in trouble. The Confed has called for the Chirits."
"Geri? I think the Confed is about to get a very expensive lesson. In the meantime, I'm invoking clause 15."
"What's that do?"
"Go read my contract."
"This is *crazy*! Do you have any idea how much this is going to cost me!?"
"Some. But I'm bound by my citizenship, and you're bound by that contract. Just be happy that your ship isn't fully human crewed. Look at clause 27."
"Good and Evil Deities! All fully human crewed ships to rendezvous at Earth? What were you thinking!?!"
"That fully human crewed ships would be considered valid targets by the Chirits. Recall to Earth puts them within the protection of the human fleet."
"Do you have *any idea* of the economic impact?"
"Me personally, I've got an idea that it's really going to hurt. The government? They've probably got it figured out to the kilocred."
"WHAT THE #+&#$ ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO FOR CARGO TRANSPORT!"
"Tell your government to back down."
"But... But ... Their the Confed! They control the Chiritian fleet!"
"And who pays the Confed?"
"Well, we do."
"So what happens if you all refuse to pay?"
"They send the Chirits."
"Paying them how?"
... *Confed HQ* ...
"They've done what!?!"
"All but a minority, a very small minority, have informed us that they're withholding payments until we guarantee that humans will not be coerced into the Confed employment system.
In fact, the major corporations have informed all employees that they are required to get level certified for anything they think they can do. In exchange, they're offering generous training budgets for all employees so they can improve any skills they want."
"But but what if they train them and they leave?!"
"They respond with a human saying to just that question: What if you don't train them and they stay."
...
Unable to pay the Chiritian fleet, it withdraws. Faced with economic disaster, and a stubborn Confed, planets withdraw from the Confed and ask Earth to become their new leaders.
Earth flat refuses. The Confeds were considered the best at government, how could humans alone be best at government. We would show what we do, but it's up to y'all to figure out how to make it work for yourselves.
What they come up with has a flavor of a three ring circus. Anyone can run for election, there are no level requirements, and there are three legislative bodies; with one executive body open to all
One makes the laws, and requires a 2/3 majority to pass a new law.
One reviews the laws, proposes changes, and requires a 2/3 majority to enact the changes.
The last house removes laws, and requires only a 1/3 minority to revoke a law.
Think it over.
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"All you have to do is develop your natural telepathic abilities, and you'd be ONE RACE" She said, smiling at me. "My whuh?" As I stared stupidly into her almond, large eyes like an utter fool.
"THIS ability, silly!" she said, and touched my head. The only way I could describe it was having my mind hooked directly to a form of internet. I could see what she meant- clearly and immediately. "Hell of a mind meld, you got there" I joked. I suddenly realized that without race, gender, and all of the things diving and blinding us, our supposed 'individuality' was nothing more than a facade....
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[WP] Other alien races are known for having a specific trait that defines them as a whole. Humans are known for their radical individuality.
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The Intergalactipedia describes humans as follows:
Humans initially hail from the planet Earth, although they have since started several colonies on other planets after a successful test run on the planet Mars, 54.6 million kilometers away from their home planet. Due to their nature, they have so far only been observed but not approached.
Humans are carbon-based life forms who, at first glance, are made up of all the same materials. They each have a skeleton with the same number of bones, organs and limbs. However, their genetic makeup allows for a number of mutations hitherto unobserved.
Their height can vary by several meters between shortest and tallest human. They can change their weight through their diets and different forms of movement, and some humans can weigh four or even five times as much as others. Even their skin can stretch to accomodate the changes in weight, and although a sudden change might leave marks, it doesn't ever tear without outside interference.
Their skin doesn't only stretch, though. It comes in an array of different colours, from almost obsidian-black to blinding white. Some humans change their skin colour by exposing it to the sun, the star nearest to planet Earth. This can cause the skin to darken and even turn red and start peeling. Humans have also been observed letting others colour their skin by piercing the skin with needles and placing pigments between its layers.
Those same skin-colourers may also use a different set of needles to pierce through skin and flesh, and place glittering metal or plastic objects in the holes. Humans survive, and even enjoy, being given these wounds. They have been observed showing them off to others with joyful expression, so we must conclude that these treatments are done voluntarily. Humans do not suffer permanent damage, even if subjected to thousands of needle pricks over the course of several hours.
Although they have hair covering their entire body, they choose to drape themselves with what they call "clothing." In order to make clothing, they must first procure certain types of animals that can be found on their planet, feed and protect them from other predators, and then harvest from them. Some of these animals are killed during the harvesting process, others simply lose their outer coat. Humans have invented extraordinary machinery both for killing and harvesting these animals. Once the harvest has been completed, they require even more machinery, and several millions of humans, to turn the animal product into clothing. This clothing is used not only to keep the wearer warm but also to express their likings - the clothing varies in size, style and colour, and is often divided by gender. They have become such experts at producing clothing that many humans pour hot wax on their bodies or scrape their skin with sharp blades in order to get rid of the hair that covers them. We must assume that they would otherwise be too hot.
They refer to these drastic treatments as "cosmetic changes." The pigment is not only reserved for their clothing or the space between their layers of skin. Humans have been observed changing the colour of their hair with the help of chemicals that can cause significant burns. They apply pigment to their faces in all the colours of their rainbow. Even the claws at the end of their fingers and toes can be pigmented, and often times they get strengthened and made longer in the process.
Their individuality isn't only restricted to their appearance, though. Whereas many of the species in the known universe work together through a hive mind, humans each have a mind of their own. Often, humans with similar minds will flock together to form groups, be it a family, a group of friends, a commune or a political party. Even inside those groups, while opinions are shared and might be adapted by other members, the minds are not controlled.
Depending on their location on the planet, their education and their lineage, they speak different languages. Some humans speak more than one language, and several are prodigies and help all the humans in the world understand each other so that each of these minds can work together if desired. If there is no prodigy available, humans have been observed using their limbs and facial expressions to overcome lack of common language.
They have created a network that connects every single person on their planet - due to different stages of development and cultural norms, this network may not be available to everyone. Those that have access to it use it to express themselves in ways not available to them in their physical forms, to flock together and form groups not restricted by physical distance but rather united by common interests.
There is no one ruler, or ruling class. Instead, humans have many small governments, some of which form alliances with other goverments, some governments having more power than other governments. Occasionally, a group of humans will form a new government. Their governments consist of people from all backgrounds, groups and genetic makeup - humans aren't born into government but rather have to appeal to a majority of other humans, who then decide to give them power. Occasionally, people who are unsatisfied with those they have given power will form a group and go against their government, sometimes even killing their leaders, in order to put people of a different mindset in power.
As you can see, there are many similarities across humankind, but make no mistake: this guide has only touched the very surface of what humans are. Their minds are their greatest power, and they have, throughout their history, used it both for destruction and creation. They have waged war on themselves, their planet and their solar system. They have created machines that will make their life easier and more enjoyable, and machines that take away their own means of living.
Where one human kills, another offers shelter to their enemy. While one human butchers animals for hours a day, another will collect malnourished animals from the street and nurture them back to health. One human uses fire to shoot metal projectiles into another human, another uses it to power a rocket and explore space.
Their brain does not only tell their body what to do. They can lay perfectly still, seemingly asleep, and their mind will take them to other places, real or not. They can think up whole worlds without moving a finger, and travel to them through dimensions we have not yet found. We can't say for sure what a human sees when they look at the world - we have observed some of them seeing colours different from others, we have heard them express different opinions about the same thing they have observed. We must assume that for each and every one of the billions of humans, the world is a completely different place, and they can make their world differ even more from each other simply through the power of their mind.
They can't be controlled, or killed easily. They are brutal and beautiful and every nuance in between. No one, not even humans themselves, have found a way to put their species into a single category. What you have learned in this book may only be accurate to a very small portion of them.
Observe them yourself, but beware. There is no way for us to know whether the human you approach will find you beautiful or murder you at first sight.
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"All you have to do is develop your natural telepathic abilities, and you'd be ONE RACE" She said, smiling at me. "My whuh?" As I stared stupidly into her almond, large eyes like an utter fool.
"THIS ability, silly!" she said, and touched my head. The only way I could describe it was having my mind hooked directly to a form of internet. I could see what she meant- clearly and immediately. "Hell of a mind meld, you got there" I joked. I suddenly realized that without race, gender, and all of the things diving and blinding us, our supposed 'individuality' was nothing more than a facade....
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[WP] A friend takes you out to dinner at an underground restaurant. While looking over the menu, you see your name under "Catch of the Day"
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I see this and look around. I didn’t notice all the empty plates and longing faces until now.
“Are you ready to order?” The waiter says.
“Unfortunately,” I pull out my bowie knife I keep hidden in my pant leg. “I’m gonna need to take it to go. It just wont be sanitary to eat here when I’m done with everyone.”
I hear the tall tell click of a dart gun being cocked. I grab my plate, deflect the shot, and hurl it at the shooter, nailing them right in the head.
I pull out a badge that reads: “Federal Vigilante” with “Permission to Kill” in bold red letters.
I look to the friend who now has a look of pure terror on their face.
“You’ve caught the wrong lamb, buddy.”
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FADE IN -
INT. RESTAURANT, NIGHT
Ryan holds a menu in his hands. Yoana hustles toward the door. She is livid.
RYAN: Wait, I thought it would be cute.
YOANNA: CUTE? This is humiliating!
A man in the background looks excitedly at the woman across from him. He gives a face to her that says "yikes".
MAN: Oh my god, he has to come back in and pay the bill. Everyone is staring at him. I am staring at him. I can't look away.
WOMAN: This is so embarrassing for him that it hurts me. What do you think he did?
MAN: Excuse me waiter...
The man raises his arm to get the attention of the waiter. The waiter comes over.
MAN: Uhh, what is going on with those two?
WAITER: Look at your menu
The waiter points to the menu. He is also relishing in the discomfort. The menu says "Catch of the Day: Yoanna Berglund. Proudly caught by Ryan Tiller."
EXT. ALLEY, NIGHT
The alley behind the restaurant. Ryan is there. Music plays in the background. He is kicking a dumpster.
RYAN: Fucking stupid!
Ryan steps away from the dumpster throws his shoulders back and screams at the heavens.
RYAN: I will never make this mistake again!
INT. RESTAURANT, NIGHT
Some weeks later. Chrissy storms out of the restaurant humiliated.
RYAN: Chrissy wait, I don't understand what I did wrong.
CHRISSY: Its a first date you creeper.
The same man from before spits his drink in the woman's face in apparent surprise.
MAN: No way!
He fumbles for his menu. It reads "Chrissy Shmidt. Catch of a lifetime!"
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[WP] A friend takes you out to dinner at an underground restaurant. While looking over the menu, you see your name under "Catch of the Day"
|
With having two full time jobs, Nev's daily routine consisted of just sleep and work. However, in the past month, he befriended a new hire at his second job, a young woman named Mireille. She was friendly, strong headed, outspoken, generally a pleasant person to be around. And now, instead of spending his Friday evening sleeping or watching some old sitcom, he was out at a beautiful underground restaurant. Both of them were dressed casually though with the atmosphere around them, Nev wished he'd at least worn a tie.
"Jeez, it's been a while since I've gone out to eat somewhere that wasn't a convenience store or a fast food joint," he said with a half hearted laugh.
Mireille snickered into her palm. "You really should work on your eating habits. Should I recommend the salad for you tonight?"
"Ha-ha, very funny."
A waiter approached their table, setting down the menus before the pair. He laid eyes on Mireille first and greeted her with a simple smile.
"Good evening, Miss Dawns. Always a pleasure to see your radiant face in the restaurant."
"Oh stop, you flatter me, Paio."
"Paio?" Nev's repeating of the water's name made them both turn to face him. "Ah! You are Paio! I haven't seen you since high school!"
"N-Nev...? That isn't you, is it?"
"Of course it's me! How are you? Wow, you're working in a place this fancy? I bet the pay is great. What about your family? Have they been well?"
Mireille cleared her throat, stopping Nev's tirade of questions. "Nev, Paio is still working, we shouldn't keep him from tending to other customers."
"You're right. But before I leave Paio, I'm getting your number."
"R-Right..."
The unnerved young man shot a worried glance to Mireille before skating off. Nev picked up his menu and began to glance over it. Everything looked good to him, he wasn't the pickiest of people. But then something caught his eye, something unsettling. 'Catch of the Day' with his name right underneath.
"What the..."
"Something wrong, Nev?" Mireille suddenly asked.
"Oh! Uh, nothing. Do you know what you want?"
"I do."
As soon as the words left her lips, something in the air seemed to shift. Nev felt a chill run down his spine and his whole body tensed up as if dozens of eyes were watching him. Because they were. He glanced around the room and saw the patrons at other tables eyeing him and Mireille. All the exists suddenly slammed shut with steel doors. From above, the sprinklers went off in powerful bursts, soaking everything and everyone. Nev jumped to his feet, heart racing in his chest. He turned to a smiling Mireille.
"What in God's name is going on?!"
"It's the Catch of the Day, Nev," she stated calmly as the water started to rise above his knees.
He watched on in horror as Mireille's skin became glittering scales, fins replacing her ears and growing on her arms, and her legs morphing into a long slender tail. And it wasn't just her. Everyone else seemed to be turning into horrifying merfolk, jagged teeth barely capable of fitting in their mouths and claws that extended to great lengths. The furniture started to float as the water got even higher. Nev wasn't the strongest swimmer either. He flailed in terror as the sea beasts slowly swam toward him. Mireille's words cut through his panic.
"Thanks for the food."
(I hope everyone enjoyed this! This idea was really good and I'm actually continuing with the story! If anybody wants part two~)
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FADE IN -
INT. RESTAURANT, NIGHT
Ryan holds a menu in his hands. Yoana hustles toward the door. She is livid.
RYAN: Wait, I thought it would be cute.
YOANNA: CUTE? This is humiliating!
A man in the background looks excitedly at the woman across from him. He gives a face to her that says "yikes".
MAN: Oh my god, he has to come back in and pay the bill. Everyone is staring at him. I am staring at him. I can't look away.
WOMAN: This is so embarrassing for him that it hurts me. What do you think he did?
MAN: Excuse me waiter...
The man raises his arm to get the attention of the waiter. The waiter comes over.
MAN: Uhh, what is going on with those two?
WAITER: Look at your menu
The waiter points to the menu. He is also relishing in the discomfort. The menu says "Catch of the Day: Yoanna Berglund. Proudly caught by Ryan Tiller."
EXT. ALLEY, NIGHT
The alley behind the restaurant. Ryan is there. Music plays in the background. He is kicking a dumpster.
RYAN: Fucking stupid!
Ryan steps away from the dumpster throws his shoulders back and screams at the heavens.
RYAN: I will never make this mistake again!
INT. RESTAURANT, NIGHT
Some weeks later. Chrissy storms out of the restaurant humiliated.
RYAN: Chrissy wait, I don't understand what I did wrong.
CHRISSY: Its a first date you creeper.
The same man from before spits his drink in the woman's face in apparent surprise.
MAN: No way!
He fumbles for his menu. It reads "Chrissy Shmidt. Catch of a lifetime!"
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[WP] A friend takes you out to dinner at an underground restaurant. While looking over the menu, you see your name under "Catch of the Day"
|
"This menu's outdated, mam," said the waiter, swiftly handing Lara another. "Please refer to this one instead. I'll be back shortly for your drink order."
Lara saw the waiter's eyes flash to her friend Jasmine, sitting across the small, poorly-lit table. Jasmine calmed her features quickly enough, but not before Lara saw the look of annoyance on her friend's face -- and not a small amount of anger.
"Did you see --" started Lara.
"What are you drinking?" interrupted Jasmine. "It has to be a martini -- we're getting over your ex, after all. This your bounce back night!"
But Lara wasn't concerned about the cocktail menu. She was still thinking about meal she saw offered at the bottom of her first menu: *And Finally, Your Catch of the Day: Lara Reynolds at Table 8!*
She glanced around the dim room. The restaurant wasn't large; Lara guessed there were no more than fifty diners, but they filled the space. The vast majority, she realized, were women -- and the vast majority were eyeing her hungrily.
"Hey Jazz," said Lara, now visibly anxious. "What did you say this place was called again?"
"*The Sea.* Just opened a few weeks ago. Do you not like it?"
"They're all looking at me." Lara was glanced around the room once more. Every set of eyes in the building was on her. Wide eyes. Staring eyes.
"Just choose a drink. It'll make sense soon."
But Lara was quickly escalating from nervous to panicked. Something was wrong. This wasn't normal. She took her napkin off her lap and began to stand --
"Oh fine," said Jasmine angrily. "That damn waiter screwed everything up. We'll just go now..." She waved across the room to someone behind Lara's back.
The house lights came up immediately. Carnival music played, diners applauded, and a tuxedoed man appeared on a small stage in the corner. He tapped the microphone theatrically before announcing:
"Welcome to *The Sea,* ladies! We're a little ahead of schedule tonight -- but that just means we'll get to the fun all the faster!"
Lara, bewildered, spun to Jasmine and demanded, "Tell me what's happening, right now!"
But Jasmine smiled wickedly. "Just listen."
"We've got a special one for you tonight, ladies," cooed the announcer. "Someone fresh out of a nasty split. Someone who needs our support more than ever!
"Now, please remember the rules: only positivity in *The Sea!* We're here to support today's Catch, to remind her that she is special, to help her understand that the world isn't over just because her relationship is over. Speak from the heart! And no trying to flirt with today's Catch -- unless she's into it!"
Over the cheering, Jasmine finally explained in Lara's ear: "It's a bar. They do special event's for the newly single. And ever since Lizzy left you, you've been so down, and I just thought..."
But Jasmine couldn't finish, not before the announcer cried, "So tonight, ladies, let's give a warm round of applause -- and a lot of love -- to our Catch of the Day: Lara Reynolds!"
The room erupted with wolf whistles and applause. A spotlight fell on Lara, and she stood, baffled, on the verge of tears. The announcer rushed forward, took her by the hand and kissed her cheek as he dragged her to the stage.
"Gorgeous!" shouted one voice. "I love your hair!" called another.
Lara looked back, caught Jasmine's eye, and mouthed 'thank you' as she took the stage.
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404/365
one story per day for a year (and counting) read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
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I was elated when Ella asked me to dinner. I'm not quite suave, and if it was on me to ask I probably would have fumbled over my words and asked her to be my dinner. I could manage to squeak out a more or less coherent acceptance, though. "Great, Alan," she said with a smile and a sly wink. "There's a nice Surf and Turf place down on 3rd. I'll pick you up at 7." It was a date.
I put on my best suit, then swapped it for khakis and a button-down before opting for the suit again. It was the right call. She pulled up in her BMW and stepped out in a stunning, backless red dress, long brunette hair flowing down over a shoulder. "You... You look great," I stammered and she gave me that wink again, as if she was telling me she knew. Thankfully she kept the conversation going in the car and I managed to seem acceptably articulate. "Do you come here often?" I asked as we pulled into the lot.
She tilted her head and gave me that wily smile. "Often enough," she answered. "They usually have a good special."
The restaurant must have had no more than a dozen tables, all but one of them empty and each meticulously adorned with a black tablecloth. Atop them sat a candle at each end of each table and two red roses sat in a small centerpiece vase. We were directed to the table adjacent to the only other couple in the restaurant. The chair was heavier than I expected and I flinched as the bottom scraped loudly against the floor and the other couple glanced at me in irritation. "Sorry," I mumbled awkwardly. Ella looked at me in amusement. The waiter was a well-built man with a thick neck and a chiseled jaw. I could just make out the top part of a tattoo climbing up past his collar.
"Good evening, Miss Ella," he said with a familiar smile. She must really come here often for the waiter to know her name. He placed two glasses of water and a drink menu between us and handed each of us a menu. "Would you like to start with anything to drink?"
I took a glance at the wine list. There were no prices marked. "I'll take your cheapest wine," I ordered, meeting the waiter's eyes. He nodded curtly and I could feel Ella's amused gaze upon me.
"I'll have the usual," she said. And then we lost ourselves in the menus and I basked in the welcome silence. My name caught my eye. "Catch of the Day" it read at the top of the selection of steaks. I had heard that term for fish. The kind of fish you eat, not the kind you ask on a date to the fanciest restaurant I had ever stepped foot in.
I glanced up at Ella to find her already looking at me. "A little surprise," she said seductively. I thought to myself that she must have really been a regular to have them change the menu to whatever she wanted. The rest of the menu was normal; your selection of filet mignon and grilled grouper and lobster.
"Did you ask them to put my name on the menu?" I asked curiously. It sounded dumb coming out of my mouth, like I was ruining a romantic moment by narrating it. At the table next to ours, I heard them both order the Catch of the Day and I wondered if perhaps I was missing out on a solid food option thanks to her cute gesture.
"You could say that," she answered vaguely. "I just gave them your name when I made the reservation." So she came on dates here often enough that they would edit the menu for her date. Interesting, to say the least.
The waiter returned a few minutes later, putting a glass of white wine in front of me and a blood red wine in front of Ella. His cold blue eyes met mine. "Sir, are you ready to order?" he asked, surprising me. They usually started with the lady. I rarely ate out, but I knew that much.
"I'll have the filet, medium rare," I answered. Two other couples, both dressed in their best, had entered the restaurant and they sat at tables near us. No other waiter seemed to be coming out to greet them so they looked patiently in our direction.
"Rare filet. Yes, sir," he repeated. I felt too awkward to correct him. "Miss Ella?"
She was still looking at me when he asked her and her eyes never left mine. "I'll have the usual," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. I gulped quietly, my body stirring.
"Yes, Miss Ella," he confirmed. "One Catch of the Day." She smiled contently and the waiter turned back towards me. I felt a strong hand on my shoulder and then two more gripped my arms. The other patrons giggled gleefully as they looked on and Ella's satisfied smile grew wider. "That'll be right out," our waiter reported as my unseen assailants rudely pulled me to my feet and dragged me towards the kitchen.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
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[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
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"If this place keeps filling up like it did last time, I am gonna have to start competing with the AA group for the bigger room", Allen sighed as he filled up coffee into his Stan Lee mug. The coffee mug was a reminder of the simpler times, when super heroes stayed within the confines of the pages that they were written....
All of a sudden the wooden door shook and trembled with tremendous force and Allen could see the wood begin to splinter and crack down the middle, followed by a booming voice, "DAMN THIS DOOR".
Panicked, Allen sprinted to the door as quickly as he could. He would be damned if he had to buy another door cause of this big oaf. He quickly turned the lock and threw the dead lock back, but was too late as he was greeted with the reassuring words, "Two, and THREEE". Practicing the controlled dive he learned in his new jujutsu class, Allen threw himself to the right as the door was sent flying off it's hinges.
Allen looked up flustered at the always early bird, , also known as Juggernaut.
"Hey big guy, if you keep breaking my doors like that, I am going to need to repossess that helmet of yours. I am sure I could get a good amount from the scrap yard. Hell maybe, I'll just keep it for myself and turn it into a bird bath.", Allen joked carelessly while picking himself up from the ground.
Turning around slowly while flexing his enormous biceps and chest which began to tear at the seams of the ACDC shirt that Allen gave to him after the previous session.
"You can just try little man" Juggernaut said while looking at me with a frightening intensity but there was also just a little bit of fear behind those big eyes.
I looked up at the big lug and slugged him on the leg, " Cmon you big lug, ya know I am just joking."
He coughed," Yeah, I uh, knew that yep, i am just gonna go sit down and uh, yeah" and he timidly shuffled away. However, that slight second where the in that confrontation where Juggernaut's expression changed and his vulnerabilities and fears escaped for half a second.
The thing is, Allen is no super Hero. He is just your average joe with a vast passion for the heroic fabrications of his youth. The fear Juggernaut feltstemmed from the fear that he might accidentally push the line. The he may be be banned from the group. That he would lose his only major point of stability in this new to him world. The world where the characters from our literatures and fantasies began springing to life out of no where.
However, not whole universes were brought in, it was sporadic and the characters that were brought in could be heroes or villains but after about 2 days of characters being "transported", it stopped. Leaving even the most prideful heroes and heinous villains alone with very few familiar faces, just yearning for some similarity, something to call their own.
But while Allen was nobody really special, he realized this need and rented a room from the local church. He had no psychology degree but he recognized the need for human interaction and the need for the community these guys needed and provided it to them. He created the "Super Happy Group" and went out of his way to give all those displaced a home. a place to be accepted. And deep down Allen also hoped that, through them maybe he could also find his own home in the characters of his childhood.....
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I enter my opaque, light blue office every morning at approximately 7am every day. I love my office, In fact, I painted it myself. My desk is a dark red oak. The chairs I bought online, for a killer deal. They are a dark brown leather with silver buttons lining either side. I love the fact that they stay cool and comfortable all day long. With windows on three sides of the room and a beautiful view of Timpanogos mountain, my office is the perfect place for the troubled to open up to me.
As always, I hear my telephone buzzing at 7:30am sharp.
"Good morning Margret" I say through the black phone lying on my desk.
"Good morning sir, the 'Flash' is here to see you."
"Send him.."
Before I could even finish my sentence, the door opened and within micro seconds Barry Allen was sitting in front of my desk.
"Well that was fast Barry."
Barry laughs and replies, "that's what I'm known for."
Barry is known for being one of the most famous speedsters in the DC universe. He's well respected and on the outside he seems like he's got his shit together. I know the truth though. He is a deeply disturbed man.
"How are you feeling today Barry?"
"Could be better could be worse."
"Did you slip up this week?" I say already knowing the answer.
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Well, how bad was it?"
"It all just happened so fast."
Barry did seem to feel bad for his mistake. I could see the disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at the floor.
"What did your son think?" I say with a sympathetic tone.
"Well.. if he knew, he might be mad... but he did win the game... and we are crushing the record for the highest points scored in the history of the game."
"Is it more important for you to win the game for him, or is it more important that he learns to win on his own?" I reply.
Barry has been on the 'sidelines' of his son's soccer games ever since he made the pewee soccer team two years ago. His son Ronald has scored over 15,000 points this season alone, thanks to the help of his father Barry.
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[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
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"No, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid without insurance, the entirety of the session must be paid out of pocket."
​
You'd think because they're still adults that superheroes would understand concepts like insurance co-pays. But, as the majority of them are indestructible or immortal or whatever they call it now, health insurance really isn't on their priority list, and that I understand. At least for me, therapy is on that list. For a few of them anyway.
​
The Client pulled out a wallet from some magic pocket in the lycra outfit he must sleep in.
​
"How much is the session again?" He asked through his characteristic smile. (And it'll be 8 sessions.)
​
"$400. Plus there is a damages clause at the bottom of the contract stating that any damages to myself or my place of business or... ahem... personal residence, whether they be accidental, normal or superhuman, will be covered by the at-fault party." I respond, careful not to dwell too long on the Ms. Shock Incident. I had like that condo, too.
​
"$400 sounds pretty steep for someone who just sits and listens." He says, flexing a part of his chest, now. (9 sessions).
​
"$400 is standard for therapy, and due to the dangerous nature of being entrusted with the secrets and vulnerabilities of Omaha's finest, is a real bargain. But, if you'd like to search for someone who won't be quite as good or worse yet continue trying to save lives in your condition, be my guest." There, my superpower, convincing people that really need therapy that they need therapy. It's not a gift so much as nearly a decade of dealing with high schoolers and now superheroes. Everyone needs help, even those that are there to give it.
​
The Client here, needs help. After saving a train full of passengers or something he nearly tore the head off a reporter for mispronouncing his name. Just one in the string of incidents that made his agent call me.
​
"Why don't you have a seat-" I continued.
"You know who I am right?" He shot back as he sat down.
"I do, why don't you tell me why you're here." I picked up my pen to start taking notes.
"I'm here because everyone else keeps getting in my way of saving fucking lives!" He roared.
​
​
(12 sessions.)
|
I enter my opaque, light blue office every morning at approximately 7am every day. I love my office, In fact, I painted it myself. My desk is a dark red oak. The chairs I bought online, for a killer deal. They are a dark brown leather with silver buttons lining either side. I love the fact that they stay cool and comfortable all day long. With windows on three sides of the room and a beautiful view of Timpanogos mountain, my office is the perfect place for the troubled to open up to me.
As always, I hear my telephone buzzing at 7:30am sharp.
"Good morning Margret" I say through the black phone lying on my desk.
"Good morning sir, the 'Flash' is here to see you."
"Send him.."
Before I could even finish my sentence, the door opened and within micro seconds Barry Allen was sitting in front of my desk.
"Well that was fast Barry."
Barry laughs and replies, "that's what I'm known for."
Barry is known for being one of the most famous speedsters in the DC universe. He's well respected and on the outside he seems like he's got his shit together. I know the truth though. He is a deeply disturbed man.
"How are you feeling today Barry?"
"Could be better could be worse."
"Did you slip up this week?" I say already knowing the answer.
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Well, how bad was it?"
"It all just happened so fast."
Barry did seem to feel bad for his mistake. I could see the disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at the floor.
"What did your son think?" I say with a sympathetic tone.
"Well.. if he knew, he might be mad... but he did win the game... and we are crushing the record for the highest points scored in the history of the game."
"Is it more important for you to win the game for him, or is it more important that he learns to win on his own?" I reply.
Barry has been on the 'sidelines' of his son's soccer games ever since he made the pewee soccer team two years ago. His son Ronald has scored over 15,000 points this season alone, thanks to the help of his father Barry.
|
|
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
|
The wind pours through my window; it brings sleet and the cold and Phoenix, who closes it, and then glances at the papers now astrew on my desk.
“Oh,” he says. The storm roars, underscores his voice. “Sorry about the mess.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “You can always go through the front door, though.”
He laughs at that, and takes off his mask. The rest of his suit, too; I look away while he changes into what I have in the drawer for him. White shirt, loose jeans that are too wide at the hip and just right at the thigh.
When I hear him zip, sigh, flop onto the couch, I turn to him. He’s not Phoenix anymore. *Phoenix* is larger than life, flame made flesh, a hero. But now, he’s Timothy. Not larger than life at all; just the right size for it, really. And maybe just flesh. He’s got a bit of an underbite, acne scars that lovingly score his cheeks, softer under the golden light of my lamps.
“It’s me,” he says, as if to clarify. It sounds the same way it always does: like he’s saying it to himself, not me. Maybe he is.
“Welcome back, Timothy,” I say, and his eyes relax.
“I have a lot of stories to tell you,” he says. And he tells them to me.
Some are terrifying, especially those involving the deeper and darker criminal activity that doesn’t always make it to the big screen; some are amusing, ultimately inconsequential and mostly enjoyable, like the ones involving Thief. He fleshes out feelings tucked away or unsaid for me, the moments of fear, the minutes of anxiety, the overwhelming anger and sadness. It’s a ritual, this is. Stripping away the glamor until what’s been hiding under it resurfaces. And when we tunnel through that, all that’s left is him.
Sometimes I think Timothy is a bit like the pearl in an oyster, if the oyster was made of gold and wreathed with glimmering rubies to refract light, and if the flesh of the oyster was made of trauma from seeing crushing cruelty, and if the pearl was just this: a man.
He hates that.
That’s our main focus right now. We’ve worked through coping methods for the things he’s seen, and it’s worked out pretty well. We labelled a couple of other emotional issues, too, and I suggested my own maps of recovery to them. But this is where we are right now: acknowledging he is human.
“Phoenix is temporary,” I tell him. “Timothy is always.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
I press my tongue to the roof of my mouth. Find the words and order them. “You aren’t always Phoenix. But you are always Timothy. You’re perfect when you’re Phoenix, or close enough, but you can’t be perfect forever. People aren’t built for that.” He blinks slowly. Listening. “It’s unfair to constantly expect yourself to be a moral paragon.”
“I should be.” His eyes close. “I could be. If I tried harder.”
“No. We all should be. None of us could be.” A long time ago, we divided Timothy into two: Timothy the man, and Phoenix the hero. That was back when we were working on the basics: how is Phoenix so different from Timothy. (The answer we came to was that if you’re different to strangers than you are to family, it’s only natural to be different to the millions of people watching you and the person you are at home.)
Phoenix, Timothy: they’re just different iterations of the same thing. But the issue is that Timothy only hates one.
“You’re doing the extremity as Phoenix, and it’s unsustainable to always be in the extremes.” He’s so small, shoulders hunched, feet together. “It’s cruel to expect that of yourself.”
“I can’t help it,” Timothy bites out. His words are fragments of broken glass, gleaming and sharp and angry.
“I know.” Soothing. “But I want you to be able to.” He’s so tightly wound. “You don’t always have to be saving the world. You can just be saving yourself, and that doesn’t make you bad. You’re not only good when you’re Phoenix.” The crack of his knuckles is deafening. “You’re good right now, Timothy. Timothy, you are good.”
“Maybe,” Timothy says. “But not as good as Phoenix.”
It’s strange, to be chasing after your own self.
“That’s why Phoenix is temporary. Because he’s too good to be all the time.” He’s going to cry, maybe. “But that doesn’t make you bad. Listen. Think of a friend, or someone from family, or just a person. Are they bad? Are they not doing enough because they aren’t Phoenix?”
He shakes his head.
“Think of the people you love,” I say. “They may not be perfect as Phoenix all the time. That’s because they can’t be. And neither can you. So why are you expecting that of yourself?”
“Because I know I can do it.”
“You can. But not always. Not forever.”
“That’s selfish.” He’s talked about this before: how every moment he’s not Phoenix, he feels selfish. Selfish for sleeping, selfish for eating, selfish for brushing his teeth. Selfish for watching a movie, for reading a book, for seeing a friend.
It's painful to see.
“Timothy, it’s not a sin to give to yourself. You need it to survive. Timothy, people *need* to be selfish sometimes, and you’re a person.”
Head hanging, hands pressed together. Voice hushed, like a secret. “I wish I wasn’t.”
We don’t have much time left. “I do,” I say, blunt, honest. “I like Timothy.”
He laughs. He used to cover his mouth when he laughed, because of his teeth. He stopped doing that a few months ago. I’m hoping with time, things like this, too, will be a memory. A mountain overcome.
“Thank you.” He sees the clock. “I have to go now.”
“I know. Remember to try and think kindly to yourself, even if it feels like a lie.”
“I know, I remember.” He smiles, crooked. “I’m a pro at that, remember? Fake it ‘til you make it.”
He suits back up, and I avert my gaze. The window opens; it’s snowing, now, soft and gentle. I force my jaw to not chatter.
“Until next time,” Timothy says. I know it’s him, even though he’s wearing the mask, even though it’s distorting his voice to Phoenix’s. “Thank you again.”
“Get home safe,” I reply. The window closes. I walk to it just to see him blaze off into the distance.
|
I enter my opaque, light blue office every morning at approximately 7am every day. I love my office, In fact, I painted it myself. My desk is a dark red oak. The chairs I bought online, for a killer deal. They are a dark brown leather with silver buttons lining either side. I love the fact that they stay cool and comfortable all day long. With windows on three sides of the room and a beautiful view of Timpanogos mountain, my office is the perfect place for the troubled to open up to me.
As always, I hear my telephone buzzing at 7:30am sharp.
"Good morning Margret" I say through the black phone lying on my desk.
"Good morning sir, the 'Flash' is here to see you."
"Send him.."
Before I could even finish my sentence, the door opened and within micro seconds Barry Allen was sitting in front of my desk.
"Well that was fast Barry."
Barry laughs and replies, "that's what I'm known for."
Barry is known for being one of the most famous speedsters in the DC universe. He's well respected and on the outside he seems like he's got his shit together. I know the truth though. He is a deeply disturbed man.
"How are you feeling today Barry?"
"Could be better could be worse."
"Did you slip up this week?" I say already knowing the answer.
"Yes, unfortunately."
"Well, how bad was it?"
"It all just happened so fast."
Barry did seem to feel bad for his mistake. I could see the disappointment in his eyes as he looked down at the floor.
"What did your son think?" I say with a sympathetic tone.
"Well.. if he knew, he might be mad... but he did win the game... and we are crushing the record for the highest points scored in the history of the game."
"Is it more important for you to win the game for him, or is it more important that he learns to win on his own?" I reply.
Barry has been on the 'sidelines' of his son's soccer games ever since he made the pewee soccer team two years ago. His son Ronald has scored over 15,000 points this season alone, thanks to the help of his father Barry.
|
|
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
|
"No, I'm sorry, but I'm afraid without insurance, the entirety of the session must be paid out of pocket."
​
You'd think because they're still adults that superheroes would understand concepts like insurance co-pays. But, as the majority of them are indestructible or immortal or whatever they call it now, health insurance really isn't on their priority list, and that I understand. At least for me, therapy is on that list. For a few of them anyway.
​
The Client pulled out a wallet from some magic pocket in the lycra outfit he must sleep in.
​
"How much is the session again?" He asked through his characteristic smile. (And it'll be 8 sessions.)
​
"$400. Plus there is a damages clause at the bottom of the contract stating that any damages to myself or my place of business or... ahem... personal residence, whether they be accidental, normal or superhuman, will be covered by the at-fault party." I respond, careful not to dwell too long on the Ms. Shock Incident. I had like that condo, too.
​
"$400 sounds pretty steep for someone who just sits and listens." He says, flexing a part of his chest, now. (9 sessions).
​
"$400 is standard for therapy, and due to the dangerous nature of being entrusted with the secrets and vulnerabilities of Omaha's finest, is a real bargain. But, if you'd like to search for someone who won't be quite as good or worse yet continue trying to save lives in your condition, be my guest." There, my superpower, convincing people that really need therapy that they need therapy. It's not a gift so much as nearly a decade of dealing with high schoolers and now superheroes. Everyone needs help, even those that are there to give it.
​
The Client here, needs help. After saving a train full of passengers or something he nearly tore the head off a reporter for mispronouncing his name. Just one in the string of incidents that made his agent call me.
​
"Why don't you have a seat-" I continued.
"You know who I am right?" He shot back as he sat down.
"I do, why don't you tell me why you're here." I picked up my pen to start taking notes.
"I'm here because everyone else keeps getting in my way of saving fucking lives!" He roared.
​
​
(12 sessions.)
|
"If this place keeps filling up like it did last time, I am gonna have to start competing with the AA group for the bigger room", Allen sighed as he filled up coffee into his Stan Lee mug. The coffee mug was a reminder of the simpler times, when super heroes stayed within the confines of the pages that they were written....
All of a sudden the wooden door shook and trembled with tremendous force and Allen could see the wood begin to splinter and crack down the middle, followed by a booming voice, "DAMN THIS DOOR".
Panicked, Allen sprinted to the door as quickly as he could. He would be damned if he had to buy another door cause of this big oaf. He quickly turned the lock and threw the dead lock back, but was too late as he was greeted with the reassuring words, "Two, and THREEE". Practicing the controlled dive he learned in his new jujutsu class, Allen threw himself to the right as the door was sent flying off it's hinges.
Allen looked up flustered at the always early bird, , also known as Juggernaut.
"Hey big guy, if you keep breaking my doors like that, I am going to need to repossess that helmet of yours. I am sure I could get a good amount from the scrap yard. Hell maybe, I'll just keep it for myself and turn it into a bird bath.", Allen joked carelessly while picking himself up from the ground.
Turning around slowly while flexing his enormous biceps and chest which began to tear at the seams of the ACDC shirt that Allen gave to him after the previous session.
"You can just try little man" Juggernaut said while looking at me with a frightening intensity but there was also just a little bit of fear behind those big eyes.
I looked up at the big lug and slugged him on the leg, " Cmon you big lug, ya know I am just joking."
He coughed," Yeah, I uh, knew that yep, i am just gonna go sit down and uh, yeah" and he timidly shuffled away. However, that slight second where the in that confrontation where Juggernaut's expression changed and his vulnerabilities and fears escaped for half a second.
The thing is, Allen is no super Hero. He is just your average joe with a vast passion for the heroic fabrications of his youth. The fear Juggernaut feltstemmed from the fear that he might accidentally push the line. The he may be be banned from the group. That he would lose his only major point of stability in this new to him world. The world where the characters from our literatures and fantasies began springing to life out of no where.
However, not whole universes were brought in, it was sporadic and the characters that were brought in could be heroes or villains but after about 2 days of characters being "transported", it stopped. Leaving even the most prideful heroes and heinous villains alone with very few familiar faces, just yearning for some similarity, something to call their own.
But while Allen was nobody really special, he realized this need and rented a room from the local church. He had no psychology degree but he recognized the need for human interaction and the need for the community these guys needed and provided it to them. He created the "Super Happy Group" and went out of his way to give all those displaced a home. a place to be accepted. And deep down Allen also hoped that, through them maybe he could also find his own home in the characters of his childhood.....
|
|
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
|
The man staring back at me is ... different from the rest. This is a very hard thing to achieve, considering my clientele.
"Can you please repeat that?" I ask, trying to look anywhere but towards the dark void that sits on my office couch. There is a cloying quality to him, like the black cloud enveloping his body is home to a thousand simultaneous screams.
"I am so alone." The man's voice is a quiet buzz, like the first onion slice on a sizzling, oil-slicked sauce pan.
I draw on decades of professional experience to hold his gaze without looking away.
"Where are your parents?" I ask, fixated upon the man's pupils. They seem to take over his eyes entirely, dilating in a dark abyss as his attention flicks from object to object, jolting me each time they return to focus on me.
"They went away," he says.
I'm going to have to take another look at how I screen clients, I think, nervously wiping my forehead with my sleeve.
"Where did they go?"
The man is silent for a time, steadfastly holding my gaze. Staring at him is like staring at an illusion, like I'm looking at a black hole right on my couch, the red fabric shimmering where it comes into contact with the edges of the void. The room around us seems to turn slightly, like it's caught in some great, slow moving current. I cough, shaking my head to clear the dizzying sensation building in my throat. This is ridiculous, I think, we're on the 53rd floor of an office building in downtown Manhattan.
"You should look out the window behind you," the man says, still staring.
A tingle shoots down my spine, flushing my body with adrenaline. This is nonsense. I'm a professional. The best there is.
"That won't be necessary," I say, looking down at my file. "It says here that you were born in Virginia to a Sally and Harold Dramer, and that your powers only started manifesting late into your teens. That's highly unusual, but not unheard of." I glance up at the man-void, who is now staring intently at my coffee table, where I've placed an old photo of him holding his parent's hands. "Do you remember what it was like before the manifestation? Do you remember your parents?"
"I do," the man says with a touch of sadness. "I remember it well. I remember them well."
"That's a start," I mutter, marking something random down on my clipboard, more for my client's sake than my own. "So what happened to your parents?"
The man shrugs and the blackness grows, inky oily tendrils snaking out over the couch and down to the floor.
"Now hang on," I say, indignant in-spite of the fear cloying at my stomach. "I have a strict no power use policy."
The tendrils continue to grow, coiling around the coffee table and along the floor and around my legs.
"You should really look outside your window," the man says with the same quiet sadness as before.
I turn slowly, my stomach now churning in a tumbling, terrified mass. My hands are clammy and I'm sheathed in sweat. My window shows nothing, just an abyss where New York City should be, an impossibly black paint splotch that envelops the window from border to border. I jerk around towards the couch, intent on ending the session, but the man is gone and the room begins to spin.
I turn back to the window, clipboard forgotten, and watch in horror as Sally and Harold float past, screaming into the un-hearing void.
|
Some superheroes are out and about saving the world. They've got crazy superpowers like flying or shooting laser beams out of their eyes or beating up criminals. That's not me. It never has been and, given my rather mundane and limited powers, it never will be. I play a different role. You won't read about me in your local newspaper or hear them interviewing me on TV. If this were a musical, I wouldn't even be in the supporting cast. I would be in the back, directing the stage crew and pulling the ropes.
I don't discriminate based on who kills who or whether you are technically a hero or a villain. We're all the good guys in our own stories and the bad guys in somebody else's story. I'm not here to judge and I'm not here to snitch. So these people come to me. They talk to me about their problems for hours on end - paying me generously with money whose origins I do not ask about - and when they leave my office, I like to think I've made a positive impact. If not on society, then at least on their lives. And if not on their lives, then at least on mine. It's not an easy career, regardless of which direction you take it in.
Don't you think the guy who razes entire city blocks with fireballs suffers from PTSD? Do you really think he can go home to his wife in the evening and talk to her about how many people he killed? Likewise, how do you think the people fighting the criminals deal with the stress of their daily lives? They can't stress eat, that's for sure. Most of them have some chiseled figure they need to maintain to uphold their public image. Rippling abs, bulging biceps, all of that. Not the one-pack and flab that I'm allowed to rock. The pressure is unbearable, the expectations unattainable. So they come and talk to me.
My powers aren't the traditional kind you read about in comic books. I just convince people that it's okay to talk to me. Once I get them talking, they don't stop for a while. And inevitably, the conversation turns. Regardless of what you hear, most of these heroes and villains don't abide by a code of conduct themselves. The bad ones work hard to look as mean as possible, but they have pets and kids and families, just like anybody else. The good ones work hard to be look as good as possible, but now and then they indulge in a dark fantasy too. That carefully tailored image has little loose threads here and there, and eventually the conversation gets there. I grab one of those threads and I start to pull, and soon enough the whole persona is crumbling and I feel a hint of the excitement they must feel when they're soaring through the sky or fighting off a dozen assailants. And just before it all threatens to collapse, I pause. "We want the same thing, you and me, you know?" I tell them. They look up, sometimes with tear-filled eyes. "I know that a lot of people wouldn't be very pleased to hear about what you do," I say, barely veiling the threat. "You want to keep your image?" They nod. They always do. Good or bad, hero or villain, they always nod. They've worked hard to create that image and they don't know what I'm hiding that might make it all disappear.
I nod sympathetically. "Then we have a deal," I tell them. "Consider me your marketing agent. Your associate. Just listen to my suggestions and you'll be just fine." And then we shake hands and off they go. I check off another name on my list. Another hero or villain compromised. Another cast member ready to be directed.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
|
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
|
“Why did he change?” the hero asked. “I used to look up to him, you know that. But then he started murdering…”
“People change,” the therapist said. “You think you know them, but things always change.”
“But that’s something that’s not supposed to change. What you believe in, good or evil. I don’t understand…”
“You will always stay focused, committed? You are that certain of your ideals?”
“Of course, doctor,” the hero said in his steadfast, certain way.
\-
“He looked like you,” the doctor said. “In that moment. I wanted to believe him.”
“Just like you believed me,” the villain said with a sad smile.
“Don’t be sad. I have never blamed you.”
“But do you agree with what he says? That you are not supposed to change?”
“No,” the doctor said. “A hero always fails, of course. What happens next, what they become next, no one can tell.”
“And what will he become?”
\-
“I realized it today, doctor,” the hero said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Something he once said to me.”
“What?”
“That they don’t love you. They love what you can do for them, and when you don’t or can’t do that anymore, they will throw you aside.”
“What happened?”
“A routine call, like anything else. A jumper on the roof. I’ve done it so many times. But this time, she didn’t listen. And I couldn’t fly down fast enough to save her…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Her mother, the utter hate in her eyes when she looked at me. She blamed me. Like I hadn’t been me, her daughter would be alive. Like…I was the villain.”
“You know that’s not your fault.”
“I know,” the hero said quietly. “But if they don’t know, what’s the difference?”
The doctor did not answer, knowing it was a question the hero had to answer for himself.
\-
“It’s happening,” the doctor said. “He failed for the first time.”
“And what do you think will happen?” the villain asked.
“You know I want more than ever for this to change nothing. For him to still believe in what he believes. But you see it too many times in my profession. Failure changes them. Warps them.”
“Like it warped me.”
“And I can’t change it one way or another,” the doctor said. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You have to let the balance play out.”
“But he’ll be better,” the villain said, his long-dormant idealism returning for one moment. “I know my little brother is made of more than me.”
“I hope so,” the doctor said.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
Some superheroes are out and about saving the world. They've got crazy superpowers like flying or shooting laser beams out of their eyes or beating up criminals. That's not me. It never has been and, given my rather mundane and limited powers, it never will be. I play a different role. You won't read about me in your local newspaper or hear them interviewing me on TV. If this were a musical, I wouldn't even be in the supporting cast. I would be in the back, directing the stage crew and pulling the ropes.
I don't discriminate based on who kills who or whether you are technically a hero or a villain. We're all the good guys in our own stories and the bad guys in somebody else's story. I'm not here to judge and I'm not here to snitch. So these people come to me. They talk to me about their problems for hours on end - paying me generously with money whose origins I do not ask about - and when they leave my office, I like to think I've made a positive impact. If not on society, then at least on their lives. And if not on their lives, then at least on mine. It's not an easy career, regardless of which direction you take it in.
Don't you think the guy who razes entire city blocks with fireballs suffers from PTSD? Do you really think he can go home to his wife in the evening and talk to her about how many people he killed? Likewise, how do you think the people fighting the criminals deal with the stress of their daily lives? They can't stress eat, that's for sure. Most of them have some chiseled figure they need to maintain to uphold their public image. Rippling abs, bulging biceps, all of that. Not the one-pack and flab that I'm allowed to rock. The pressure is unbearable, the expectations unattainable. So they come and talk to me.
My powers aren't the traditional kind you read about in comic books. I just convince people that it's okay to talk to me. Once I get them talking, they don't stop for a while. And inevitably, the conversation turns. Regardless of what you hear, most of these heroes and villains don't abide by a code of conduct themselves. The bad ones work hard to look as mean as possible, but they have pets and kids and families, just like anybody else. The good ones work hard to be look as good as possible, but now and then they indulge in a dark fantasy too. That carefully tailored image has little loose threads here and there, and eventually the conversation gets there. I grab one of those threads and I start to pull, and soon enough the whole persona is crumbling and I feel a hint of the excitement they must feel when they're soaring through the sky or fighting off a dozen assailants. And just before it all threatens to collapse, I pause. "We want the same thing, you and me, you know?" I tell them. They look up, sometimes with tear-filled eyes. "I know that a lot of people wouldn't be very pleased to hear about what you do," I say, barely veiling the threat. "You want to keep your image?" They nod. They always do. Good or bad, hero or villain, they always nod. They've worked hard to create that image and they don't know what I'm hiding that might make it all disappear.
I nod sympathetically. "Then we have a deal," I tell them. "Consider me your marketing agent. Your associate. Just listen to my suggestions and you'll be just fine." And then we shake hands and off they go. I check off another name on my list. Another hero or villain compromised. Another cast member ready to be directed.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated!
|
|
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too.
|
“Why did he change?” the hero asked. “I used to look up to him, you know that. But then he started murdering…”
“People change,” the therapist said. “You think you know them, but things always change.”
“But that’s something that’s not supposed to change. What you believe in, good or evil. I don’t understand…”
“You will always stay focused, committed? You are that certain of your ideals?”
“Of course, doctor,” the hero said in his steadfast, certain way.
\-
“He looked like you,” the doctor said. “In that moment. I wanted to believe him.”
“Just like you believed me,” the villain said with a sad smile.
“Don’t be sad. I have never blamed you.”
“But do you agree with what he says? That you are not supposed to change?”
“No,” the doctor said. “A hero always fails, of course. What happens next, what they become next, no one can tell.”
“And what will he become?”
\-
“I realized it today, doctor,” the hero said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Something he once said to me.”
“What?”
“That they don’t love you. They love what you can do for them, and when you don’t or can’t do that anymore, they will throw you aside.”
“What happened?”
“A routine call, like anything else. A jumper on the roof. I’ve done it so many times. But this time, she didn’t listen. And I couldn’t fly down fast enough to save her…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Her mother, the utter hate in her eyes when she looked at me. She blamed me. Like I hadn’t been me, her daughter would be alive. Like…I was the villain.”
“You know that’s not your fault.”
“I know,” the hero said quietly. “But if they don’t know, what’s the difference?”
The doctor did not answer, knowing it was a question the hero had to answer for himself.
\-
“It’s happening,” the doctor said. “He failed for the first time.”
“And what do you think will happen?” the villain asked.
“You know I want more than ever for this to change nothing. For him to still believe in what he believes. But you see it too many times in my profession. Failure changes them. Warps them.”
“Like it warped me.”
“And I can’t change it one way or another,” the doctor said. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You have to let the balance play out.”
“But he’ll be better,” the villain said, his long-dormant idealism returning for one moment. “I know my little brother is made of more than me.”
“I hope so,” the doctor said.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
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The man staring back at me is ... different from the rest. This is a very hard thing to achieve, considering my clientele.
"Can you please repeat that?" I ask, trying to look anywhere but towards the dark void that sits on my office couch. There is a cloying quality to him, like the black cloud enveloping his body is home to a thousand simultaneous screams.
"I am so alone." The man's voice is a quiet buzz, like the first onion slice on a sizzling, oil-slicked sauce pan.
I draw on decades of professional experience to hold his gaze without looking away.
"Where are your parents?" I ask, fixated upon the man's pupils. They seem to take over his eyes entirely, dilating in a dark abyss as his attention flicks from object to object, jolting me each time they return to focus on me.
"They went away," he says.
I'm going to have to take another look at how I screen clients, I think, nervously wiping my forehead with my sleeve.
"Where did they go?"
The man is silent for a time, steadfastly holding my gaze. Staring at him is like staring at an illusion, like I'm looking at a black hole right on my couch, the red fabric shimmering where it comes into contact with the edges of the void. The room around us seems to turn slightly, like it's caught in some great, slow moving current. I cough, shaking my head to clear the dizzying sensation building in my throat. This is ridiculous, I think, we're on the 53rd floor of an office building in downtown Manhattan.
"You should look out the window behind you," the man says, still staring.
A tingle shoots down my spine, flushing my body with adrenaline. This is nonsense. I'm a professional. The best there is.
"That won't be necessary," I say, looking down at my file. "It says here that you were born in Virginia to a Sally and Harold Dramer, and that your powers only started manifesting late into your teens. That's highly unusual, but not unheard of." I glance up at the man-void, who is now staring intently at my coffee table, where I've placed an old photo of him holding his parent's hands. "Do you remember what it was like before the manifestation? Do you remember your parents?"
"I do," the man says with a touch of sadness. "I remember it well. I remember them well."
"That's a start," I mutter, marking something random down on my clipboard, more for my client's sake than my own. "So what happened to your parents?"
The man shrugs and the blackness grows, inky oily tendrils snaking out over the couch and down to the floor.
"Now hang on," I say, indignant in-spite of the fear cloying at my stomach. "I have a strict no power use policy."
The tendrils continue to grow, coiling around the coffee table and along the floor and around my legs.
"You should really look outside your window," the man says with the same quiet sadness as before.
I turn slowly, my stomach now churning in a tumbling, terrified mass. My hands are clammy and I'm sheathed in sweat. My window shows nothing, just an abyss where New York City should be, an impossibly black paint splotch that envelops the window from border to border. I jerk around towards the couch, intent on ending the session, but the man is gone and the room begins to spin.
I turn back to the window, clipboard forgotten, and watch in horror as Sally and Harold float past, screaming into the un-hearing void.
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[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled.
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People underestimate me, constantly.
They look at my power and they think "Wow, what a useless bastard, why is he even mentioned in the same week as powerhouses like MegaMight, Astro Lady, or even The Mystic Maestro? How does he have the spotlight even occasionally?"
They think I get up against a baddie and I hit them with a hangnail and I just get lucky... again and again... and they just don't understand. None of them except my teammates do, and they're sworn to secrecy, because if the secret behind my powers ever got out, someone could come up with a counter, and we can't have that. I'm the Power Council's secret weapon, I'm the guy they *want* to have underestimated, unappreciated, unappealing, and mostly forgotten. It's my job to be a bit of a laughing stock, and truthfully I'm OK with it. As you sit there on the cold ground of your lair barely able to flinch or move, you might've guessed what I've done to you: I haven't hit you with *one* minor inconvenience, I've hit you with *hundreds*. In truth, I used my Standard Curse Set B, which the Stat Wizard said would be most effective on someone with your power set: sneeze every time you see blond hair, sudden urge to poop when you sneeze, irritable bowel syndrome, stronger-than-normal sneezes... I tell you what, your getting one hell of an ab workout right now, sneezing while holding all that in, those are going to be sore tomorrow. There's quite a few more in there that I won't go in to, but suffice it to say that 30 seconds was enough to plaster you with enough minor curses to keep you incapacitated while Guardian slaps those power-eliminators around you.
Oh I know what you're thinking now, I've seen it on the faces of quite a few of your like. You're wondering why I'm even bothering to tell you all this? Well, it's quite simple really - my final curse, the one even my companions don't know I can do, makes people forgetful. You'll remember this conversation for another hour, and then when the curse wears off you won't even remember who I am. In the grand scheme of things, pretty minor, but that's what I do. Ah yes, *that's* the look I was waiting for, the abject misery of being beaten by the laughing stock of the Council. I love that look... Aaaaaah, ok, I've had my fun, you'll be wondering why you felt so shitty soon, so have fun with that, and do take care of those abs - I'll ask the guards to get you a protein shake, and maybe some extra fiber.
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So, you've heard of death by a thousand paper cuts, right? It's a common enough saying. It's not to be taken literally, obviously. You can't actually kill someone with a thousand paper cuts.
Anyway, the point is that enough minor inconveniences can do enough damage to take down anything, especially if you're creative about it. I should know, I am the greatest supervillian of of all time, Paper Cut.
Seriously though, I hate that name. That idiot reporter definitely found out that you can't die from a thousand paper cuts. Took at least 50 thousand, I think... kinda stopped counting after 25 thousand.
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[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled.
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Cutting me off in traffic. Sentence: Itchy brake foot.
Pushed in front of me in line for a coffee. Sentence: Their drink will always stain their shirt.
Sneezed in my direction and didn't cover their mouth. Sentence: Permanent runny nose.
I am a fair and even handed judge. I hand out those sentences that everyone wishes they could. The ones for those minor inconveniences that make your day just a little bit worse. It's not the most glamorous job in the world, I must admit, but I see it as a duty I must perform for the good of the nation. The people who cause these small indignities must be punished and I am the only one able to do so. If doing so makes my day a bit better then, well, that's just karma.
That's my name by the way; Karma. I'm not particularly well known because I don't have a flashy power like The Patriot or Valkyrie. They're the heavy hitters on the heroes' side; the ones with big banners and corporate backed merchandising. The Patriot also has permanently itchy underwear. He shouldn't have dented my car while fighting Brimstone six months ago. If his insurance companies doesn't stop fighting my claim he's going to have nappy rash as well.
You see, I believe that what goes around comes around. I also believe that, on very special occasions for very specific people, I'm what comes around.
Some might call that petty and I wouldn't contest that. Most people don't though, because they know better than to insinuate that where I can hear it.
All in all it's hard work being a hero, but I've never had a job I enjoyed as much as this.
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So, you've heard of death by a thousand paper cuts, right? It's a common enough saying. It's not to be taken literally, obviously. You can't actually kill someone with a thousand paper cuts.
Anyway, the point is that enough minor inconveniences can do enough damage to take down anything, especially if you're creative about it. I should know, I am the greatest supervillian of of all time, Paper Cut.
Seriously though, I hate that name. That idiot reporter definitely found out that you can't die from a thousand paper cuts. Took at least 50 thousand, I think... kinda stopped counting after 25 thousand.
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[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled.
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Eve scanned the comments one more time before making her final decision.
"You're next." she says as she clicks on the profile of a guy whose picture featured a middle-aged white man with wraparound sunglasses and receding brown hair. She smiled as she saw his profile was public and thanked him mentally for saving her a few days of social engineering. Andy Scanton was a walking, talking, typing cliche. Single, blue collar job, no redeeming qualities to speak of. His profile had the usual touch of casual racism, misogyny, insecurity and ignorance. She could work with this, time for this witch to do her thing.
He had drifted into her sights a few times now, always in the comments sections of articles about strong women or smart women or women who have the nerve to complain about anything. In this case he was filling the comments with hate and bile on an article about a plus size model who wore a bikini. Any positive message was lost and his contribution consisted of awful insults to both the subject of the article and anybody who defended her. Eve usually went for bigger fish - the people who wrote "Kill yourself" were her favourite target, but this guy was spouting so much hatred and negativity the internet would definitely be a better place without him.
She worked into the night, gathering information and slowly and carefully filling in a spreadsheet, following a process she had completed many times before. Row by row and column by column she worked until eventually she had a complete map of every way she could ruin his life, from the absolute definition of petty right through to the utmost dreadful. She would bet her life that Andy Scanton would be curled up rocking back and forth with tears streaming down his face before the next day was through. They cry, you cry.
The next morning involved an early start and a two-hour drive to a row of shabby terraced houses a couple of cities over. She smiled as she watched Andy Scanton, with a host of shaving cuts and an absolutely enormous cold-sore on his lip drop his keys for the 4th time as he attempted to lock his front door. She could have made the key snap but that might have meant a day off work and she really, really wanted him to be in work. As he finally locked the door and turned to walk away he snagged his sleeve on the handle, catapulting his lunch box across the garden and scattering the contents. As he bent to pick it up a shadow appeared overhead and the biggest seagull he had ever seen decorated the lawn, his lunch and his jacket.
Andy kicked the lunch box - growing ever more frustrated and removed his jacket, stuffing it behind a box next to his door. He stomped off, walking the ten minutes to the bus stop where he stood and watched his bus go past as if he was invisible. Now visibly furious he reached for his phone and rolling his eyes realised it was in the jacket abandoned by his front door. Eve wondered if she should be getting so much pleasure from this but it didn't take long to recall the reason she was doing it in the first place.
Slowly tailing him she watched him stomp back home for the jacket to recover the phone and dial a taxi. He seethed as he jumped in to the most foul smelling taxi that existed and listened to the driver who just would not shut up. On arrival he reached out to pay the driver and dropped the coins down the gap in the seats. After searching for a few minutes he gave up and handed a note to the driver. Banging his head as he jumped out, he slammed the door on his own finger and she swore she saw a tear trickle down his red puffy cheek.
Eve went to grab a coffee from the cafe of the train station where Andy worked as a cleaner. She knew he would be kept busy as all of the other cleaning staff had called in sick and the national head of facilities had decided on a last minute trip. There was also a whole carriage of school children en-route who were about to develop a sudden sickness in the main hall. Somebody had forgot to order bin-bags and the only working water tap for maintenance was up a flight of stairs on the other side of the building. She sat back and watched for the next two hours as Andy slowly continued to unravel. Every now and again she would dial it up a notch or two. She could see the discomfort in his face at the erection he had been hiding for an hour, the chafing on his thighs, the blisters on his heels and the fact that his breath smelled like a dead animal.
Other members of staff were starting to point and whisper by now and she knew it was time for the final act. As he stood on platform 4b a train pulled in. It was like a well rehearsed ballet. The visiting manager started towards the platform just as a small boy dropped a bag of popcorn at the door of the train. Andy rushed over to address the mess, as he walked under a sign the chain suddenly failed and he raised both hands to protect his head. Simultaneously the belt on the large trousers he had donned to help with the chafing popped open revealing his mediocre erection to a stunned manager. As he made eye contact with her the erection quickly deflated and he was then left to cover himself with the sign he had in his hands.
At this point a lady who was disembarking through the commotion made a beeline for Andy, whipping off her long coat and covering his modesty while he fixed himself. Very red-faced and lost for words he looked over the top of the coat and realised he recognised that face... he just couldn't recall where from. As he nodded to signify he had returned his trousers to their correct position around his waist she withdrew the coat revealing herself to be in a bikini.
"Don't mind me - I'm a model we're doing a shoot round the corner. Are you okay? Looks like you're having a hell of a day!"
|
The stench of artificial butter, and the invisible layer of dust that hung in the air, made their official meeting in my nostrils. I let out a cough as I finished pushing open the heavy movie-theater door. The place was old, but I loved it.
No other theater in town played the latest indie films. All the big chains drew in crowds for Godzilla and Spider-Man. The only thing this place drew towards it was cobwebs and old guys who jerk-off in the back of the empty auditoriums. You know how it is. Young filmmakers love exploring sexuality, and old guys love looking at these artistic expressions of life and being human and coating them in their own potential little humans.
It wasn’t enough to deter me from this place. Movies are the most beautiful form of artistic freedom, and the good stuff was always here.
My internal monologue was rudely interrupted by a woman yelling over at the snack area. She was complaining about the prices.
“$6.00 for a bag of M&M’s! I could just go to the gas station right across the street!”
The guy working responded calmly, “Yes ma’am, you could, but then there might not be a movie theater here anymore for you to complain about.”
It wasn’t a smart tactic to respond that way. She got louder. I got more irritated. I tried to talk myself out of interfering, but my good mood was starting to sour. I couldn’t stand people who complained so much. I walked up to the snack bar, and coughed again. Not a real cough like the last one. This one projected a few small words towards the woman.
Her yelling got a little quieter, and quieter, until she took a large gulp of air, and breathed out. She was winded. A small curse. I could only do small curses, but they can be more of a hinderance than you think.
I made her realize she was breathing. Just a small thing. Instead of her mind subconsciously sucking down oxygen for her, she became aware of it. Every swig of life was deliberate. It would only last a few minutes, but it would make her shut up and focus on something else. She rummaged through her purse and payed the man for her candy. As evil as that was, I felt great. As simple and powerless as such a gift seemed, sometimes, I felt special.
I approached the harbinger of snacks and placed an order for a large popcorn with light butter.
“Sure thing, sir.”
Everything was looking up again. I was excited to see my movie. I thought about theories and possible directions it’s story could go as the guy scooped my popcorn into a paper bag. He carried it over to the butter dispenser, and pressed down. Not lightly. It was like someone promised him a large sum of money if he pressed down on that nozzle as hard and continuously as he could. Sunuvabitch.
My popcorn had become a mere vessel for liquid shit. My face said everything as the man presented the popcorn to me. Some gears turned, and he remembered, “Oh, I’m so sorry, I forgot to do light butter...”
He didn’t offer to fix it. He just, set it down in front of me. I payed for it, and walked away, clutching it in my hands. Greasy liquid artificial goo soaked through the bag, and onto my hands. Suddenly, I felt a little less special.
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[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled.
|
Eve scanned the comments one more time before making her final decision.
"You're next." she says as she clicks on the profile of a guy whose picture featured a middle-aged white man with wraparound sunglasses and receding brown hair. She smiled as she saw his profile was public and thanked him mentally for saving her a few days of social engineering. Andy Scanton was a walking, talking, typing cliche. Single, blue collar job, no redeeming qualities to speak of. His profile had the usual touch of casual racism, misogyny, insecurity and ignorance. She could work with this, time for this witch to do her thing.
He had drifted into her sights a few times now, always in the comments sections of articles about strong women or smart women or women who have the nerve to complain about anything. In this case he was filling the comments with hate and bile on an article about a plus size model who wore a bikini. Any positive message was lost and his contribution consisted of awful insults to both the subject of the article and anybody who defended her. Eve usually went for bigger fish - the people who wrote "Kill yourself" were her favourite target, but this guy was spouting so much hatred and negativity the internet would definitely be a better place without him.
She worked into the night, gathering information and slowly and carefully filling in a spreadsheet, following a process she had completed many times before. Row by row and column by column she worked until eventually she had a complete map of every way she could ruin his life, from the absolute definition of petty right through to the utmost dreadful. She would bet her life that Andy Scanton would be curled up rocking back and forth with tears streaming down his face before the next day was through. They cry, you cry.
The next morning involved an early start and a two-hour drive to a row of shabby terraced houses a couple of cities over. She smiled as she watched Andy Scanton, with a host of shaving cuts and an absolutely enormous cold-sore on his lip drop his keys for the 4th time as he attempted to lock his front door. She could have made the key snap but that might have meant a day off work and she really, really wanted him to be in work. As he finally locked the door and turned to walk away he snagged his sleeve on the handle, catapulting his lunch box across the garden and scattering the contents. As he bent to pick it up a shadow appeared overhead and the biggest seagull he had ever seen decorated the lawn, his lunch and his jacket.
Andy kicked the lunch box - growing ever more frustrated and removed his jacket, stuffing it behind a box next to his door. He stomped off, walking the ten minutes to the bus stop where he stood and watched his bus go past as if he was invisible. Now visibly furious he reached for his phone and rolling his eyes realised it was in the jacket abandoned by his front door. Eve wondered if she should be getting so much pleasure from this but it didn't take long to recall the reason she was doing it in the first place.
Slowly tailing him she watched him stomp back home for the jacket to recover the phone and dial a taxi. He seethed as he jumped in to the most foul smelling taxi that existed and listened to the driver who just would not shut up. On arrival he reached out to pay the driver and dropped the coins down the gap in the seats. After searching for a few minutes he gave up and handed a note to the driver. Banging his head as he jumped out, he slammed the door on his own finger and she swore she saw a tear trickle down his red puffy cheek.
Eve went to grab a coffee from the cafe of the train station where Andy worked as a cleaner. She knew he would be kept busy as all of the other cleaning staff had called in sick and the national head of facilities had decided on a last minute trip. There was also a whole carriage of school children en-route who were about to develop a sudden sickness in the main hall. Somebody had forgot to order bin-bags and the only working water tap for maintenance was up a flight of stairs on the other side of the building. She sat back and watched for the next two hours as Andy slowly continued to unravel. Every now and again she would dial it up a notch or two. She could see the discomfort in his face at the erection he had been hiding for an hour, the chafing on his thighs, the blisters on his heels and the fact that his breath smelled like a dead animal.
Other members of staff were starting to point and whisper by now and she knew it was time for the final act. As he stood on platform 4b a train pulled in. It was like a well rehearsed ballet. The visiting manager started towards the platform just as a small boy dropped a bag of popcorn at the door of the train. Andy rushed over to address the mess, as he walked under a sign the chain suddenly failed and he raised both hands to protect his head. Simultaneously the belt on the large trousers he had donned to help with the chafing popped open revealing his mediocre erection to a stunned manager. As he made eye contact with her the erection quickly deflated and he was then left to cover himself with the sign he had in his hands.
At this point a lady who was disembarking through the commotion made a beeline for Andy, whipping off her long coat and covering his modesty while he fixed himself. Very red-faced and lost for words he looked over the top of the coat and realised he recognised that face... he just couldn't recall where from. As he nodded to signify he had returned his trousers to their correct position around his waist she withdrew the coat revealing herself to be in a bikini.
"Don't mind me - I'm a model we're doing a shoot round the corner. Are you okay? Looks like you're having a hell of a day!"
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[Poem]
Let their milk be old and chunky,
Let their towels not be dry
Let their stutter, Let them stumble
And be always dead inside
Let them always lose their keys
And be always out of place
Let every time a car passes by
Mud splashes in their face
Let their socks be always damp
Let their alarms be really loud
Let their favorite pictures never save
Not even to the cloud
Let the nosy neighbors bug them
Let their cats ignore their food
Let the dog rip up the couch
Let this curse be EVER CRUDE
As the curse set on the horizen
All her enemies feared the worst
For they all were now afflicted
With the inconvenient curse
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[WP] You are a master of incredibly minor curses. Things such as people's noses always being slightly stuffy, permanent hangnails, your pens always running out of ink, anything minor but noticeable. You're abilities are unknown to the rest of the world, and your pettiness is unrivaled.
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It's not the most glamorous power. I mean, even my alter ego name is lame. By day, I am Ileria McKracken, and by night I'm the Mistress of Pettifogging. I mean, half the time I have to explain that yes, my alter ego name is in the dictionary, and yes it's a real word, no I didn't make it up!! Google it for Christ's sake!!! May your next week be filled with broken i keys and flat tires in the morning!
Ok sorry, it's just really annoying to have to explain to every hero and villain that, no, I didn't get to pick my name since my powers aren't flashy enough. It was assigned to me some paper pusher by the same registries we all have to report to: The Secret Society of Ability and Bureau of Magic, Underworld, and Defenders or SSABMUD.
I'm not really a hero or a villain. My power is limited to petty annoyances, very minor curses if you will. Spilled coffee on shirts, tripping over rugs, sudden hiccups, flat tires. Heck, I didn't even rate a costume. You better believe the clerk who made that decision had a lot of leaky pens for the next month.
I never get invited to any of the good parties anymore either. Clark Kent kept stepping on my feet trying to waltz. He refused to apologise, so his cape kept getting caught in doorways for week. It's not my fault he doesn't wear anything under his super suit. The Joker cut me off in the buffet line. His spray nozzles kept getting clogged. I feel like I saved Gotham, but that damn Bat took the credit.
On a plus note, my powers are considered so minor that they aren't even tracked, and most of the time, it's really hard to prove I did anything at all. It's not like they cause a disturbance in the Aether or anything, so no one knows if it's just bad luck or me.
For example, I went on a date with someone I met on Match.com. You know the story, I'm sure. You show up, they look nothing like their profile picture and proceed to stare at your chest the whole night, never let you get a word in edgewise, and expect you to pay because they are sooooo awesome. I'm all about equality, but I'm not paying for some sleaze bag's dinner. Anyway, he kept trying to grope me, and asked to go back to my place because his parents didn't allow him to have women over (he was 54 btw, not 34 like he said). I was like, ew, no. He tried to follow me home, but wouldn't you know it, the dust in the city is just terrible and he kept sneezing. It's not my fault he slammed into a light pole on one particular large sneeze. His next week wasn't any better let me tell you.
I might not have the biggest and baddest of powers, but I can still make your life miserable, and that, I think, is the best power of all. Remember that I'm out there, somewhere, the next time you yell at someone in traffic or cut the line for the bathroom. Be polite, and you have nothing to fear from me. Be rude and I will annoy your week! I am the Mistress of Pettifogging! Tremble before my pettiness!!
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[Poem]
Let their milk be old and chunky,
Let their towels not be dry
Let their stutter, Let them stumble
And be always dead inside
Let them always lose their keys
And be always out of place
Let every time a car passes by
Mud splashes in their face
Let their socks be always damp
Let their alarms be really loud
Let their favorite pictures never save
Not even to the cloud
Let the nosy neighbors bug them
Let their cats ignore their food
Let the dog rip up the couch
Let this curse be EVER CRUDE
As the curse set on the horizen
All her enemies feared the worst
For they all were now afflicted
With the inconvenient curse
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[WP] You are revered and feared as the world's most powerful and intelligent supervillain. It's made you miserable, because you are trying to be the greatest hero but everything you do backfires in the most intense and implausible ways. You're literally failing your way to the top.
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“Something must be done, but who is up to the task, we ask? Not our military, no - they feel *safer* killing unarmed civilians with drones in some desert an ocean away, but when we have a God-like psychopath flying around the city blowing up historical landmarks, somehow all the warhawks are silent and all the stockpiles of nukes mysteriously disappear! The people deserve to know why, because our child-“
I turned the TV on mute, unable to contain a sour grimace spreading all over my face as the Fox News host continued his diatribe, red in face, spit flying all over the studio and on his pretty blonde co-host. She continued smiling, an icon of will and endurance. Unlike me.
“God-like psychopath”, I thought and fell back into the bed, pulling the covers over my head. It felt cozy and dark there, the blankets smelling of a fresh start. Which coincidentally I might never get after that Statue of Liberty fiasco.
And no amount of fabric softener would drown the pervasive stench of burning flesh, for months to come. The smell seemed to have seeped directly into my pores. Good, I thought, I deserve that much for the “effort”.
It’s not that I could go on national TV and explain that I tried to *pull* people from the burning monument, but the nature of my telekinetic levitation, the way air moves around me supersonically to grant the lifting power, fanned the flames harder, resulting in the whole head and torch section going alight three times faster and hotter.
25 dead, charred to crisp in a fiery whirlwind of my heroic arrival. Irrevocably damaged state property. National mourning announced and the bounty on my head growing bigger despite the fact that, as I’m sure, all the CIA thinktanks couldn’t come up with a foolproof method of doing me in, short of nuking me from orbit.
Nobody would believe that. Not with my pathetic record with “heroism”.
I got up, trudging to the bathroom. I didn’t want to, really. All I wanted was to lay down and sleep, a sleepless sleep - and maybe wake up in a kinder world. I believe that’s what people call depression, or a symptom of a PTSD, but figures that I can’t really have that. That’s a weakness too human, too dangerous.
The simple task of putting toothpaste on the brush seemed laborious. As the white-n-blue jelly squeezed out, I thought of that one time when I tried to get a kid out of a crumbled down house in Edo, grabbed him by the hand and just... squished it, underestimating the applied force. It popped like a berry, and I barely registered it.
That’s how most of my attempts at fixing things went, really. Great intentions - then red paste squicking out everywhere.
I tried to pull out a sinking cruise liner out of the water, but didn’t account for the center of gravity distribution on that thing - it capsized as I did it, spilling hundreds of passengers in icy Baltic waters. Sure, just as much survived, but the media made the tragedy to be a deliberate action, an intimidation of the Swedish government on my part.
I tried to stop a falling passenger plane, a whole freaking Airbus. Damn. Back then I was certain that this time, this is my ticket, this is my chance to prove I want nothing but the best for people - I intended to catch it by the nose and sort of “brake” the machine in mid-air... but instead, as per the goddamn physics, all I succeeded in doing was just smashing through the hull, pilot cabin and all, causing such a fast de-pressurizing that the whole thing dropped down like a rock... The media called me the “single largest threat to humanity, Kim or ISIS don’t need apply”.
Or the time I decided to thaw out a snowcrashed Mt. Everest hiking party with my heat rays, and instead, instantaneously cooked them right through the snow. *That* incident was so horrid that I made the wrong decision to hide the deed - which, when uncovered, made it ten times worse, fanning the flames of my notoriety. Now there was a clearly malicious intent which nobody could deny.
Perhaps, I thought as I sluggishly went about making a breakfast, I could just go inactive. Persuade myself that I never had all these powers, strength and invulnerability. Lead a normal life, just like the one I had before I realized that I was one of the Chosen. Eat my cinnamon cereal and go to the monotone 9-5 job, and smash that police receiver to bits so it wouldn’t tempt me. Because currently, it was clear that I made a bad Chosen. Certainly nothing like Athena, or the Defender or even the Ferracat.
Hah! “Certainly nothing” was a great underestimation of the gap between me and the beloved superheroes.
Even as much as letting a *single* thought on my failings and the deaths that occurred made me nauseous. For all the people calling me a monster, it was *I* who had to carry the weight of all this misery in the end. At first, it was the intoxicating belief in my objective superiority that kept me from fully realizing the extent of horror - like, sure, it’s *sad* that you couldn’t keep an anthill from drowned in a flood, but nothing to lose sleep over.
But, day by day, drop by drop, it got through to me. It got darker, deeper, heavier - just like the shadows in the corner of my kitchen on a sunny New York summer morning.
Weird, though, about those shadows... They indeed got deeper, *thicker*. As I watched over the unusual phenomena, they congealed into a humanoid form. Ah. Another Chosen. I “hrrmphed” with a mouthful of cereal - must be one of the governments upteenth attempt at using another powered being to wipe me off Earth.
At this point, I didn’t even care.
“Listen, if you’re here to try and suffocate, irradiate or I dunno, *stare* me to death, go on with it quickly”, I waved a spoon in the shadow-person’s direction. “I’ve still got to get my second set of sheets from the laundry and run some groceries”.
The shadow blob moved. I yawned.
“Name’s Nocturne”, the visitor announced with a rather flat voice. “And you’re the Angel of Death, I presume?”
I wrinkled my nose. The moniker was disgusting. Disgustingly *right*.
“Actually, it’s Seraph. It’s the damn bloggers that started the whole “Angel of Death” schtick”. The fuck you want, *Nocturne*? If it’s Director Wheaton that sent you here with one of those “come in peace, let us lock you in a nuclear warhead silo near Canada” proposals, I’m still now buying it. I might immigrate to the Antarctic on my own though, so you can tell him that. No world domination plans, I swear”.
The shadowman sat himself down and reached for my coffee machine. He seemed awfully relaxed for a Pentagon errand boy.
“Really? Immigrate to the Antarctic? What for, become the leader of penguins?”
“Something like that”.
“Something like that, hm...”, he poured himself some, in my favorite Red Sox mug that he unceremoniously took from the drying shelf. “Then tell me, Angel, why not become a leader of slightly more capable beings?”
“Like?”
“Like the Chosen. And no, no”, he jested to stop me from interrupting. “I don’t mean like the nation’s Chosen League, or Mankind’s Shield. A slightly less spotlighted collective. One that could benefit from your talents”.
“Which is?” I leaned back in my chair, feeling that the chat is veering into a direction I didn’t anticipate.
Nocturne twirled coffee in his mug pensively. In the bright morning light, he appeared to be a cut-out of pure blackness. How did he get here anyway? He can move between pools of shadows, but with what distances? The fellow must be a grade-A pervert with that ability... and judging by the faint outlines of eyeballs in that pitch darkness, the creeper looked up, observing me.
“We don’t have a name. That’s bad taste. Let’s just say that we are a group of beings disillusioned of the idea that Chosen should only serve humanity”.
“Yeah. Some Chosen clearly aren’t meant for it”, I drawled bitterly. “Then what’s the next great idea, then?”
An outline of a smile.
“Just a small tweak on the previous one. That humanity should serve the Chosen. And we know a guy very apt at persuading people that it’s the God’s will... Seraph”.
I mulled over those words for a seconds. Swallowed my mouthful of cereal - and for the first time in months, it tasted sweet.
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Arriving back at your secret cave, miffed at your most recent attempt at benefiting the human population. You had planned to provide free potable water to everyone with your new industrial sized water purifier. It had worked for two whole months before the someone broke the waste re-purposing tube. How was it your fault that they have a fight with some other villain directly beside the machine only to punch a hole through the tube followed by incorrectly fixing it.
Once people started getting sick and it was linked back to the water, it didn't take the heroes long to find your connection to the system. That 'hero' some how damaged the sensor when he attempted to repair the tube was your only guess as to why the system continued to pump through it. Sadly you wouldn't be able to defend yourself, again, or even prove that, considering they already destroyed the machine.
Pulling up the feed to your rented apartment you could already see police searching through everything. What was even more infuriating was that they were being directed by the same 'hero' who caused all this in the first place. Clicking the connection kill switch preventing them from being able to track you back to your main base you sat down to consider your options.
Who do you get to 'rework' your design allowing it to still benefit the world, similar to the generators that currently produce 95% of the worlds power. You couldn't even look at those designs anymore otherwise people might think they were bombs ready to explode like your prototypes you had tested. Really who fires a laser from space at a building then drops 10 tonnes of ice on the same burning building. Of course once the first had exploded the 'heroes' just fly in and start to unplug the others and lifting them out of the building and what a surprise the movement causes the explosive chemical inside to detonate killing anyone within the blast radius.
Who gets blamed when a 'hero' breaks your machines and then cause the death of thousands, well it has to be the notorious and feared supervillain.
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[WP]A witch offers a man everlasting happiness on the condition that he will give her his first born child. The man thought it was a strange way to propose but accepts nonetheless.
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"All right, on the horse you go." The prince gave his steed a gentle spank and the horse turned its head around to give the witch a glare.
The witch was perplexed. "There was no condition that you would take me away young Escar. I appreciate the sentiment, but I want your child, not you."
It was the prince's turn to be perplexed. "Witch, you must come with me in order to have my first child." He once more patted the rump of his horse and it whinnied in glee.
The witch disagreed. " I offered eternal happiness in exchange for your first born child. It does not matter where either of us are so long as the condition is fulfilled." The witch turned back to head into her tree hut.
"Wait," the prince hurriedly called out. "What makes you so sure that my first born would be delivered to you on short notice? How are you to even be aware that I have fathered a son or daughter? What would alert your person of its conceiving? My seed leaving its sack? I will tell you now witch, that alarm will be frequent and disappointing."
If one could check to see the witch's brow as she stopped in her tracks, he or she could make out a bead of sweat on the revelation of what a man's nature truly was. He was a prince to be sure, but alas, he was a man as well. She turned around. "You mean to tell me that you are not pure of heart as they describe in the stories?"
"I do not know of what stories you have read, but I do know that a child cannot be conceived without a mother." The prince held out his hand with a smile that could charm a demon.
The witch lowered her hat and obscured her face. "You can find any wench to have a child with! You are a prince and may pick whatever flower you come across."
"But I cannot find one that would offer me eternal happiness for just a child my dear witch," he said with a faded smile. "While I may have my pick, it is only inside the greenhouse and every flower has its thorns. I cannot go beyond the garden and explore. Even now, I step out of my bounds, maybe for the last time."
The witch stood in silence, more curious of this prince out of nowhere who came with nought but a wish. After a moment she spoke. "And what does that have to do with me dear prince?"
"Why, I thought I may have found my flower, one without thorns. The one that isn't nestled in a bush of political strife. One that offered me everlasting happiness for nought but a child. My dearest and mysterious witch, were you not the one who offered me this happiness?"
"I- I did... but not as you have described."
"Then pray tell me how would you keep your end of the bargain?" the prince asked.
"You are asking for too many details on something so whimsical and magical." replied the witch. "It just works, you'll be happy. Why can you not accept that?"
"Because I would live a falsehood. And what is more sad than to live a life I do not want with superficial satisfaction?" The prince knelt down to the witch in plea. He knew what would happen when he goes back. He reserved his thoughts and emotions for those nights when he was alone but before the witch, he could hold them no more.
The witch heard a silent sob while the prince faced the earth. She reached out and touched his shoulder. "If you are not feeling right, then perhaps we should head inside and discuss more about the conditions of our contract. Besides, a prince should not have to kneel in front of a witch." She helped him up. " I think I want to add more conditions before we consider you giving me your first born child. Maybe dinner first."
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"What if it's a trick? Why would she do this for me in exchange for my first born child?"
I had been sitting on that boulder for at least fifteen minutes. Occasionally I'd glance at her big curved nose and that strange black hat.
"Have you not decided yet? I don't have all day".
"Excuse, madam...I don't understand the reason for this deal".
"Huh, what's the matter young man, you don't want to be happy forever?"
"Yes, of course, but...all of this feels so bizarre".
"It's just my way of expressing gratitude. I have been locked in that cage for a hundred and seven years until you finally freed me. Please accept my gift, it's the least I can do".
"Alright, but why do you want my first born child?"
"I already told you that I can't tell you. But tell me, young man" said the witch getting closer to me and grinning.
"If you were to experience eternal happiness...would everything else really matter? Anything could happen to you or your loved ones and you'd still be happy. And isn't this the purpose of every living creature, to seek happiness?"
I was really confused, but I had to admit that she had a point, and I thought this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
After five minutes of walking back and forth, I finally gave my answer.
"Alright, madame. It's a deal".
"Very well, young man. When your child is seven years old, I will come to take him with me".
"Why seven years old?"
"He has to grow".
I didn't understand what the witch meant, but I was looking forward to receiving her gift. How wonderful my life would have been!
"Now I appeal to you, cosmic forces! Grant this man everlasting happiness in exchange for his first born!"
I fell.
I remained unconscious for almost a day and I had my longest dream. I've replayed all the major events of my life, from kindergarten to work, from childhood to adulthood.
Something felt different. I didn't feel bitterness when I was scolded for not doing homework, or when my wife left me. I felt...good.
I woke up in the same place as yesterday. The wind was making the woods' trees swing and the sun was about to rise from the hill.
Upon getting up, I immediately felt a spike of dopamine, although that wasn't the most correct term.
"This...this feels amazing! I have never been so happy before!"
I run down the hill to my town. The possibility of having made a terrible deal never left my mind, but it didn't bother me at all. Nothing did or could have.
I hadn't drunk in 24 hours, but even though I was thirsty I felt I could go weeks without drinking at all.
Ahead of me were the best years of my life. What am I saying, the best years that anyone could possibly live!
Ten years later my life had completely changed. I had become a businessman and CEO of a very influential company. My social network and friendships had improved tremendously and was living a happy married life with Monica.
There's something fascinating that happens when you are extremely happy all the time: everyone wants to be around you, as if people want your happiness to rub on them. Or maybe they just perceive me as more important?
It didn't matter. Nothing really mattered to me. All of these things were the icing on the cake. I could have lived in the streets without a penny and would have felt bliss anyway.
"I'll never stop thanking that witch" I thought to myself.
"Speaking of...which...next week is Nathan's seventh birthday. I suppose I'll see her".
At first Monica got mad when I told her the truth about our son five years ago, but then I reassured her.
"We'll probably be able to go visit him anytime we want"
TO CONTINUE
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[WP]A witch offers a man everlasting happiness on the condition that he will give her his first born child. The man thought it was a strange way to propose but accepts nonetheless.
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"All right, on the horse you go." The prince gave his steed a gentle spank and the horse turned its head around to give the witch a glare.
The witch was perplexed. "There was no condition that you would take me away young Escar. I appreciate the sentiment, but I want your child, not you."
It was the prince's turn to be perplexed. "Witch, you must come with me in order to have my first child." He once more patted the rump of his horse and it whinnied in glee.
The witch disagreed. " I offered eternal happiness in exchange for your first born child. It does not matter where either of us are so long as the condition is fulfilled." The witch turned back to head into her tree hut.
"Wait," the prince hurriedly called out. "What makes you so sure that my first born would be delivered to you on short notice? How are you to even be aware that I have fathered a son or daughter? What would alert your person of its conceiving? My seed leaving its sack? I will tell you now witch, that alarm will be frequent and disappointing."
If one could check to see the witch's brow as she stopped in her tracks, he or she could make out a bead of sweat on the revelation of what a man's nature truly was. He was a prince to be sure, but alas, he was a man as well. She turned around. "You mean to tell me that you are not pure of heart as they describe in the stories?"
"I do not know of what stories you have read, but I do know that a child cannot be conceived without a mother." The prince held out his hand with a smile that could charm a demon.
The witch lowered her hat and obscured her face. "You can find any wench to have a child with! You are a prince and may pick whatever flower you come across."
"But I cannot find one that would offer me eternal happiness for just a child my dear witch," he said with a faded smile. "While I may have my pick, it is only inside the greenhouse and every flower has its thorns. I cannot go beyond the garden and explore. Even now, I step out of my bounds, maybe for the last time."
The witch stood in silence, more curious of this prince out of nowhere who came with nought but a wish. After a moment she spoke. "And what does that have to do with me dear prince?"
"Why, I thought I may have found my flower, one without thorns. The one that isn't nestled in a bush of political strife. One that offered me everlasting happiness for nought but a child. My dearest and mysterious witch, were you not the one who offered me this happiness?"
"I- I did... but not as you have described."
"Then pray tell me how would you keep your end of the bargain?" the prince asked.
"You are asking for too many details on something so whimsical and magical." replied the witch. "It just works, you'll be happy. Why can you not accept that?"
"Because I would live a falsehood. And what is more sad than to live a life I do not want with superficial satisfaction?" The prince knelt down to the witch in plea. He knew what would happen when he goes back. He reserved his thoughts and emotions for those nights when he was alone but before the witch, he could hold them no more.
The witch heard a silent sob while the prince faced the earth. She reached out and touched his shoulder. "If you are not feeling right, then perhaps we should head inside and discuss more about the conditions of our contract. Besides, a prince should not have to kneel in front of a witch." She helped him up. " I think I want to add more conditions before we consider you giving me your first born child. Maybe dinner first."
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A furious blush adorned her face as she *demanded* my first born child.
Mia has always been a *bit* weird, but I liked her quirks nonetheless.
We met a few years ago when I was hiking through a mountain range. Covered in mud and stalking a bluish frog was how I encountered her.
I will probably never forget the sight of her platinum hair shining through the mud under the moonlight in this lifetime.
Seeing how she nervously bit her lower lip waiting for my answer I proceeded to accept.
Pulling her closer I kissed her.
"Only if you are the one that gives birth to them, Mia."
Mia was a witch, and I knew it. Her poor attempts to cover her spells as magic tricks didn't help either.
While I didn't know why she hasn't told me yet her story, I wasn't really in a hurry for answers.
We had a lifetime of time together to spare, didn't we?
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[WP] Having lived in London your entire life, not much phases you. However the oddly dressed stranger who just stumbled out of a back alley is really getting on your nerves with their constant babbling. And what do they mean by "Steam punk"?
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It was a typical day in London. The skies were overcast and the fog was rolling in. People and clockworks were ambling about their business. I myself was walking towards my workplace at the bank, eschewing the hansoms chugging along the streets. I had the Times tucked under my arm. The headlines intrigued me and I gladly paid the two shillings for the issue. Seemed the Prussians were planning a push against the Romans and sent multiple dirigible raids along the borders. The war in the Continent was about to heat up. And war was good for the financial world.
I was rounding the corner when I was accosted by a stranger.
"Pardon me, sir," I grumped. No apology was returned to me. The stranger was an odd duck. He was neither beardless, nor clean-shaven. Rather his chin was covered by a dusting of whiskers. His spectacles had very thick frames and no other accouterments like flip up smoked glass or built in monocular. His clothes were spare, his trousers were blue stained denim instead of honest gray wool and he only wore an undershirt (scandalous!) and no coat or jacket. The undershirt had an outlandish design, a stylized depiction of the flag of the Eastern American Dominion, though with too many stars and superimposed by a white headed hawk or falcon.
"Where am I?" Well, at least his English was good, though strangely accented. Perhaps a colonist from abroad. I glanced at his shirt again.
"You're in London, sir," I joked. Obviously he knew that. "This is the corner of Threadneedle and Bishopsgate, to be precise. I see you are from across the Atlantic. Do you need directions, sir?" No need to be rude. Colonials had different manners from us Londoners. Truth be told, a Mancunian and Liverpudlian had different manners.
"Um... what?" He was staring at the sky. I followed his gaze and nodded in understanding.
The Albion Airways newest airliner was steaming westward towards Dublin then eventually New York. She was the largest craft to take to the air and the height of luxury. I didn't blame the stranger for gawking. She was quite the sight.
"Is that a fucking blimp?"
I winced at the crude language but reminded myself that he was a colonial. "Er... the proper term is 'dirigible'." He stared at me."My bank is an investor to Albion Airways, you see, and we insist on the proper terminology," I began. I then realized that he was staring over my shoulder.
"Is that a fucking robot?"
Again with the swearing. I coughed to let him know of my discomfort. He started then visibly forced himself to calm.
"Is that a ... robot?" he repeated.
"What's a robot?" The word sounded Slavic. Maybe he wasn't a native Anglophone.
"That!" He pointed at a clockwork carrying a heavy load of gears. "That's a robot! A steampunk robot"
"Oh, a clockwork. I've never heard of them referred to as such. What part of the EAD are you from?"
He blinked in confusion. "The what?" Maybe I made a mistake assuming he was from the Eastern American Dominion. Maybe he was from Australasia?
"Are you not American?"
His face brightened. "Oh, yes! Of course! I'm from the United States."
Now I was confused. "The United States? Is that what Americans call the Dominion?"
"The what?" Must have been his favorite phrase. He kept shifting his eyes everywhere. My spectacles, the horseless hansoms, the clockworks, and for some reason the pipes and clouds of steam that were ubiquitous in the city. He kept muttering "steampunk" over and over again.
This was too intriguing even as it was frustrating. Not often that I could converse with a colonial from abroad, even a potentially mad one, though I wish he was more forthcoming.
"Wait here." I found a courier clockwork and after writing a hasty note, I pressed the message and a quid into its mechanical palm and ordered it to deliver the missive to my bank. My employees must make do without their boss for the day. There was something off about this man and I aimed to find out what.
"I'm back, sir. Shall I buy you a tea or coffee? The coffeehouse there serves a bean from the Sandwich Islands."
"What date is this?" he asked suddenly. He seemed much calmer.
"What date?" I scoffed. But the man seemed serious. "The 22nd of August, 2019 AD."
He actually smiled. "Steampunk," he said again. He turned to me. "I have so many questions."
"As do I, sir."
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My butler was as curious as I, when I brought him in. This strangely dressed man, who had stumbled out of an alley in front of me seemed in shock by the simplest things. And such odd clothes! He looked like he was dressed for the Arctic north, and his teeth were chattering like ice chimps as he slowly mouthed out his admiration for the grimy London sky. It was the middle of summer though! A very warm 70 degree July. The oddest thing... I couldn't quite make out his words through the chattering too, though he kept repeating them in befuddlement before he finally passed out... 'Cream Funk'? was that his name? Some people these days have the oddest names.
I couldn't leave him out there, so I brought him into my house, and called over George to bring him blankets and warm him up. We waited as we watched him thaw out (tip, hot cocoa is the most magical cure-all in existence, though the cook looked at me oddly when I asked her to make some up). Eventually he woke back up, and slowly inclined, opening his eyes to look at us. His look of shock came back as he looked at us. Like we were the ones dressed oddly. He slowly said pointed at my glasses and just uttered 'Steam Punk', before he fell back to the couch.
I'll have to ask him what he means when he wakes up. Maybe he's been out for a while and missed out on fashion? My glasses are top of the line, I'll admit. I just bought them from George Rathburn, his works are all the rage these days. As befits the man who worked on the frontscreens of the clockwork spaceships that just launched yesterday
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[WP] A gang of bandits roams the Wild West, legendary in their pillaging. The nicknames of the five bandits are Peppa Pig, Doc McStuffins, Popeye, Spongebob Squarepants, and Winnie the Pooh, and tonight a stranger at the saloon is telling the tales of how each of these outlaws got their nickname.
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Santa Poco, Arizona Territory
Sheriff Carter, flanked by two deputies, walked into the saloon with urgency and sat at the table. "A'right then, Steve, nows not the time for jawin'. Tell me what you know and who they are."
The man took a his shot of whiskey with a shaking hand. "It was the Five, I tell ya." He held his shot glass with a trembling hand. "They dun shot up Hope, and only I made my way here by night." He bowed his head somberly.
"May they all rest In peace, Lord keep 'em all and may them Five Philistines burn eternally in the Lake O'Fire."
Carter leaved forward. "We ain't got time, Steve. We're getting a posse and I need to know where they're going."
Steve gulped, and stammered. "Yessir." he said. "Started off with Miss Winnie, the pooh doll, she came into town first. Sweet as honey, and hair as as red as the Devils fire. Emerald eyes, and skin gold brown. Ain't the like the sun touched her just right for a Irish woman. She come in the day before, like a siren from the wilderness."
Steve took another shot. "That jezebal cozied up quick like to the deputy; I seen them in the saloon. But late that night I seen the Injun sneaakin' in the dark. I knowed there was som'n afoot, then. I tried to warn the sheriff; but he wadn't as quick in the head as he used to be."
Carter studied the man intently. "Tell me about the Injun."
Steve nodded. "I heard he was too mean for the Jicarilla, and was exiled. Band of maruading messicans, cut part of his tongue out but he survived. When he says his name, it comes out soundin' like 'Spongebob Squarepants'. Silent as death and a quiver of poison arrows. He dun hunted down all them messicans that cut him up, and killed them all." pausing for effect he ran his index finger accross his throat, "Reaaaal slow like."
"Then there's Doc McStuffins, the old saw bone. Wears an old confederate uniform stained with the blood of his victims. They call him McStuffins, because they say he was a taxidermist as a hobby before the war. But all them blood n' guts drove him mad, barkin' mad, just as soon kill you as patch ya up." Steve shuddered. But not as mad as Popeye."
By now a group had gathered around the table listening intently. Some men sipped there whiskey, other looked around nervously. Steve pointed to his eye. "Word around the fire says he was a whaler, and one day he took a harpoon to the eye. Strong as a bull, he takes this wacky weed, like the Devil hisself blew a charge of red pepper right up his rectum, pardon my french. I seen him ride into town and beat three grown men out of the saloon like it weren't nothing."
Steve took a deep breath. "But none of them ain't nothing like the Peppa Pig, orneriest man this side of the Rio. His shoulders wide as an Ox, and a chest like a barrel. Scraggly and dirty like a pig-pen, and they call him peppa on account of the pepperbox he uses. Can shoot the wings off a gnat, but he likes to get in close with that pepperbox. Loves the pain 'n sufferin' it causes.
Sherriff Carter leaned back in his chair, and locked his steely gaze on Steve. "You sure it was the Five?"
Steve gulped and took a shot. "Yessir." he stood and grabbed his hat. " I'm heading to Mexico, and if'n any y'all have the sense God gave you, you'll pack up and leave, too. Ain't no sense in riding into Hope neither. If anything, it's be good to get word to them prospectors in them hills and get them in town." Turning back to the sheriff, and deputies. "God rest ye soul, gents."
A few miles west of town, a figure stirred in the darkness, alerted by the approaching rider. The shadow whistled. The rider whistled back as a man stepped out from behind the rock.
"Evening, Pepper." the rider said.
"Evening, Steve." Pepper said. "How'd it go?"
Steve scratched his jaw. "Good and scared. Injun Bob cut the telegraph lines?"
Pepper nodded. "He did. We left them dead messicans whur you told us to."
"Good." Steve said. "I imagine Doc can ride into Kearny tomorrow and buy that claim for pennies on the dollar."
Pepper spit. "Imagine so."
"Big day tomorrow, Pepper. Let's get some rest."
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"Well, well. I am sure you folks want to hear many stories. I have every story you could dream of. But tonight," he affected a flourish "I want to tell you the story of the Five Scourges."
The townspeople gasped, half in delight, half in terror. The Five Scourges were the most feared outlaws of the day. Every town cowered afraid of getting in their sights. The storyteller was pleased.
"Who should I start with?" The crowd, composed of nearly the entire town, errupted with shouts of Peppa Pig, Spongebob Squarepants, and Winnie the Pooh. But in the back a young boy waited for the din to die down and then loudly cleared his throat before squeaking out "Popeye".
"Popeye, yes what a fine place to start. He is, after all, a fallen star. I beg silence, and your attention, as I tell the tale of Popeye.
Popeye earned that name well before he earned infamy. He was a known pugilist. You could win a tidy penny correctly guessing what round he would knock out an opponent. No one left the ring without black eyes and bruises when boxing Popeye. The true testament to his skill was how handsome he was," the man smiled at the ladies, "oh yes, Popeye was popular with the ladies. No boxer in his right should have made it to his age with a straight nose, but Popeye did. For all the black eyes he gave, no one landed a hit near his pretty face. He popped eyes, he didn't get his popped!" The ladies giggled and awed, the ruthless criminal suddenly a charming prince on hard times.
"All of that changed one dark and dreary night. Popeye was popular with the ladies, but his heart belonged to just one. No one really knows the details, but I can tell you what happened, oh yes, His love, his lady, betrayed him. Had been betraying him. His victories. His pretty face. All of it was her seducing and drugging his opponents." A brief sneer flashed on the Storyteller's fine features, "His self doubt raced, was he even any good? But his rage swiftly took over. So that night, when he got into the ring, he let that rage take over. He didn't just box, he beat that man to a pulp just to prove he could, murdered him in front of everyone, then calmly walked out of the ring and snapped his traitorous wife's neck. Before the constables arrived, Popeye was gone. The next anyone saw of him was when a bandana slipped off of his still pretty face while riding with Peppa, and the Scourge was born."
The crowd clapped. But then one man, red faced with drink, called out "Popeye didn't found the Scourge, it was Peppa and Doc McStuffins!"
Only the people in front noticed the hate that gleamed in the storyteller's eyes. Everyone else just saw a toothy grin. "I assure you good sir, Doc McStuffins doesn't have the brain to run a gang of outlaws. We call him Doc as a joke because he's so stupid. Now, thank you, but I will have to delay the rest of the tales until tomorrow. The time has gotten away from me"
It wasn't long after he left that the first townsfolk drifted out of the tavern. Moments later, you could hear their feet pounding back toward the tavern and cries of "oh lord we've been hit by The Scourge!" "The bank's been robbed" "Pa's grocer's been hit!" "Someone broke into the mayor's house!"
**Thank you for reading. I know my grammar is horrible**
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[WP] In a case of mistaken identity gone horribly wrong, you’re SO is killed by an assassin hired by the mob. Upon learning of the mistake, the mob boss shows up on your doorstep with an offer to make amends.
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I sat there on that cold autumn afternoon, staring as they lowered the coffin to the ground. Three hours later i remained in place, numb save for the gnawing pain in my chest. The pain that would never leave me.
I feel another person sit beside me after a while. I ignored this individual and continued to stare at my now burried wife. My mind was empty.
"Losing a loved one is never easy." Said an old man in a very solemn voice. He sounded tired but I didn't really pay him mind.
"I wish this never happened Peter, I really do. Things have a tendency to get out of hand sometimes." He said my name. Does this guy know me? My wife?
"I'm sorry sir who," my blood became ice in my veins. I recognised the bastard.
"Morello."
"Hello Peter."
"Any of your boys around?" I asked him, gritting my teeth.
"Some of them." He nods towards a certain direction and for the first time I noticed a small contingent of well dressed goons.
"Youre tempting me Morello. I could only take so much. You really gotta rub salt in my wounds you son of a bitch." I was gripping the arm of the bench almost enough to break it.
"I know how you feel Detective. I do. I know you think I did this hit intentionally. I didn't. What would I gain from it? Nothing." He seemed genuinely frustrated. I couldn't care less.
"Your man. Your orders. Your fault. Aint no two ways about it."
"Look. I never do this. And I would never do it again for anyone. I'm giving you free reign. Ask me anything. What ever you want. Name it."
My blood boiled. What the fuck was he offering? Anything I want? I want Lisa back. I want him dead. I want my life back the way it was.
"Why don't you just fucking die?"
To my surprise the old man chuckled.
"Is that all? Well, you're gonna get your wish. Its not today but soon. 3 months, maybe six if I'm lucky. Can you believe that shit? If I'm lucky." He laughed and then started coughing.
"Anyway, since thats gonna happen anyway I'll throw it in for free. What else do you want? Come on. Final offer."
"Tell me why you did it Morello. Why'd you have her killed? Why Lisa? She was a fucking saint."
"There are some questions you don't want the answers to Peter. This is one of them."
"Fucking tell me!" I stand up screaming and I hear sudden rustle as thugs rushed towards us. They stopped short when they see their poss raise a hand.
"Sure. She wasn't the target. There was a man. Ricardo Alvarez. She was. She was screwin him Peter. He was the target. Not her."
My heart fell into a deep hole. The ground was yanked from underneath me so fast I got whiplash. I didn't want to believe it. But i knew it was true. I had a feeling she was cheating on me. But Ricardo Alvarez. Motherfucker!
I pull my gun and point it at Morello so fast his goons didn't have time to react. He didn't even flinch.
"You're lying."
He stayed silent.
"YOU'RE LYING! YOU STUPID PIECE OF SHIT!"
He just looked towards the grave looking forlorn.
My arms fall to the side and I drop to my knees. To my surprise, Anthony Morello knelt down in front of me and put his hand on my shoulder.
"He used her as a shield Pete. He used her as a shield to save his own ass. I want to get him but the fucker is a chameleon. I need you to help me take him out."
"Why the fuck would i help you?" I ask, my voice sounding as if I was burried in that grave.
"Because you're a gooď cop. Because you want him as much as I do. And because if you do this for me, Ill turn over everything I have on the syndicate." I stare at him in disbelief. Then i grit my teeth and stand up now I'm standing over him.
"I'll find him. But not for you."i turn around and walk away from the most powerful crime boss in the city.
Anthony Morello got up on his feet shakily. He watched as his son walked away from him just as he had walked away from his son. His eyes watered but he powered throigh it, determined not to cry in front of his boys.
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"How *dare* you. You kill my husband and then you have the nerve to show up at my house to mock me? *Go to Hell*."
"I understand your-"
I spit in his face.
"You understand *nothing.* Just leave me and my family the *hell* alone! You hear me? Now, you and your thugs get the hell off my doorstep before I call the police."
And then I slammed the door
I began to shake. From the adrenaline coursing through my body, but mostly from all the memories suddenly rushing through my mind that I wasn't prepared yet to deal with.
Everywhere I looked I saw him. Sitting in the couch with his feet up. At the stove cooking eggs. Walking down the stairs.
I slid down the door, tears spilling through my fingers faster than I could wipe them away.
"Mommy? Are you okay?"
Seeing my daughter caused my tears to dry up instantly.
My youngest sat on the steps coloring in her coloring book, a box of crayons beside her, and so absorbed in her work that she wasn't even looking at me. Fortunately, this gave me enough time to wipe the tears that had already run down my cheek.
"Hey, baby, yeah I'm fine...I'm great."
"Then why were you crying? Do you still miss Daddy?" she asked, replacing her blue crayon, and picking up a red.
*So, so much* I wanted to say. I wanted to cry. I wanted to break down and have someone hold me and tell me it was going to be okay.
But I wasn't going to get that from a six year old, so I just had to settle with telling her, "Everyday," and then quickly changing the subject before I had a melt down."What do you want for lunch, sweetie? I know that's why you *really* came down."
A few minutes later as I was pulling the lunch from the microwave, my phone rang with a number I didn't know.
I don't know why I picked up. I usually don't. Maybe I was just lonely for company - someone to talk to - *anybody*, even if it was for a brief few minutes with someone who had called a wrong number.
I answered. "Chelsea Residence, how may I help you?"
A cold voice that sent ice water through my veins made me freeze at a stand still. "My boss wasn't too pleased with the way you welcomed him to your home this afternoon. Fortunately, he's a merciful man, and is willing to overlook today's little fiasco if you agree join him for dinner tonight. Maveso's Club. 10pm."
"What? No."
The voice on the other end slid into a chuckle. "Dress nice." *Click*. The phone went dead.
As I looked at my phone, it vibrated with a notification that said someone had sent me a message. I clicked on it. There were two of them. One of them was the address of the club restaurant and what to wear and what time to be there.
The other was a photo of my back, with me looking at my phone, and my daughter sitting at the table coloring. Wearing...
I looked down at my daughter.
...the same clothes that we were wearing right now.
I spun around, looking through the sliding glass doors that led to our patio.
"Baby," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even, "did you see anybody standing on the patio just now?"
"No."
*Damnit*.
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[WP] Sometimes, a love story is less about the one who would die for you and more about the one who would commit murder and hide the corpse for you.
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This Japanese maple is a first for me. I usually plant shade trees or fruit trees of some kind in the orchard. This one won't flower but come spring the other trees in the orchard will have flowers start to blossom on them but it'll be a great addition to the growing orchard. I wrap the blue ribbon around the small trunk and walk along the path towards the front of the property.
I've been planting trees here since I met my wife over 40 years ago, so many of them that I'm sure I could count them but it's better not to dwell on it. The ribbons need to be replaced on a few of the trunks but they can wait for a while. The sun on my face reminds me of the first tree I planted, the first reason I ever needed to plant a tree. We were dating and when I came to her house to pick her up her sister told me to leave because her step-father had grounded her. The bruises on her wrists and the puffy cheeks told me all I needed to know. That apple tree with the red ribbon has been feeding my family for years since then.
The sweet cherry trees each have a yellow ribbon around them, they were all planted as one, unlike the others. I forget which one is which but they were all in the same house, cooking up their drugs and terrorizing the neighbors. Not that I cared, they never bothered me. But when they pulled up behind my wife one day and started yelling at her because she was pissing them off is when they crossed the line. Six new trees were added to the orchard that day.
Finally next to the creek are my Willow trees, Each have a different ribbon on them. The blue one was for the manager who wasn't taking no for an answer, the Orange one for the priest who wanted to get to know my daughter a little too well, the white one for the man who didn't stay out of his car after drinking and almost killing my son. 47 acres of trees. Not all of them have ribbons but the ones that do have stories, all of them provide better than the people who are buried beneath them.
One of the grand children ride up the gravel path on their bike and call for me to come to dinner. My family knows not to disturb me when I bring home new trees. I'm not sure if they know my secret, but they've never said anything if they do. In a couple months the leaves will fall and in the spring the flowers will blossom again, and again, and again for years to come they will provide fruit, flowers and shade. To me that is true love.
​
Edit: First paragraph was messed up.
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“Paul.” Her voice broke the pattern of a foot crushing bones. “Paul.” She tried again. “Paul please!” She cried, grabbing his arm when he still didn’t stop. “He’s dead. He’s fucking dead.”
Paul panted, staring at his wife. Blood covered his shiny black shoes, thick splatters sticking to his hair and face. He reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, “I know.”
When Katia started dating Paul Underwood, an infamous crime lord, she never expected to end up here. In her father’s shitty apartment, his dead body on the floor. “He’s dead.” She repeated, as if in disbelief.
“I did it for you.” Paul removed the hand from his girlfriends cheek, pulling a red handkerchief from the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. He carefully dabbed the blood from his pale skin.
Katia didn’t move. She simply watched from a distance as Paul began to take care of the body. “Thank you.”
“No reason to thank me.”
“You freed me of him.” Katia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind, her eyes closing.
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[WP] Sometimes, a love story is less about the one who would die for you and more about the one who would commit murder and hide the corpse for you.
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Sitting on the edge of the bridge, with my legs dangling dangerously over the 200 ft drop gave me a sense of liberation I'd never felt in ages. The wind blew strongly across my face, making it almost difficult to breathe as I let the tears fall freely down into the blue waters below.
We were madly in love, Carla and I...
Even as I closed my eyes, I could still recall the way she looked at me all those years ago. The way her green eyes gazed dreamily across the hall before it settled on me. It was love at first sight, for both of us.
I stifled my sobs and wiped the tears and caked up blood from my cheeks as I recalled our plans for the future. The future where we would live in a blue house by the beach. I would hold our daughter in my arms, while our son skipped in circles around my beautiful wife. We would spend every sunset out together as a family, giggling the entire evening away.
I'd just regained my freedom earlier today and immediately decided to sought her out, as any loving boyfriend would. I waited for her patiently by the entrance of her workplace with a fluttering heart and trembling hands. I'd managed to gather several colorful wild flowers by the pavement, carefully making a bouquet of sorts. She would love it. Everything was going to be alright.
My thoughts ended just as I glanced Carla step out of the building, a radiant smile etched across her face. She was walking in my direction, and was just a mere 20 steps away before she would finally be in my embrace.
I straightened my shirt, and thought about the first words I'd say to her.
10 steps.
I closed my eyes momentarily in a vain attempt to still my pounding heart.
5 steps.
Inhale, exhale.
"Hey baby!" I smiled charmingly as I held out the bouquet I'd delicately pieced together.
The next thing I realized was the sharpest sounding screech I've ever heard. *Hells, I never imagined that a sweet looking girl like Carla was capable of emitting a sound like this.*
I dropped the bouquet of flowers onto the pavements to protect my eardrums from that assault and closed my eyes in shock. *What the fuck?* When I next opened my eyes, I realized that a man twice my size was charging right into me. *Oh shit, Harry's with her?!*
Everyone around knew that Harry had been in love with Carla for as long as he remembered. As far as I was concerned, he was just another one of the many suitors Carla showed no interest in. I recalled rolling my eyes as I heard about how people complimented their compatibility and how happy they were together. *What do those idiots know anyway? Carla was mine.*
Before I could react, the brute collided into me and tackled me to the ground where I felt blow after blow land onto my head and face. I attempted to shield myself, and yet failed miserably. I was never known to be of much use in a fight.
"LEAVE. HER. THE. FUCK. ALONE!"
I could hear Carla crying in the background, and my heart broke. I hated to see her cry. Then something she said crushed my already fragmented heart into smithereens.
"I wish you would just die. That would make me happy."
Summoning whatever strength I had left, I pushed Harry off me and stood up. Taking in one last look at Carla, I sprinted off into the darkness as fast as my legs would carry me.
After my lungs had given out, and my legs could run no more. I limped towards the bridge, and climbed over the barriers before settling down to catch my breath.
I've had numerous restraining orders filed against me, lived on the inside of a jail cell for years because of those infractions and yet I'd always assume it was Harry who manipulated Carla into doing these inhumane things. I was more than willing to forgive her, if only she apologized.
But now I see.
I could still make Carla happy.
I closed my eyes once again, and leaned forward, leaving the security of stone and into the emptiness of the winds and water.
This was our love story.
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“Paul.” Her voice broke the pattern of a foot crushing bones. “Paul.” She tried again. “Paul please!” She cried, grabbing his arm when he still didn’t stop. “He’s dead. He’s fucking dead.”
Paul panted, staring at his wife. Blood covered his shiny black shoes, thick splatters sticking to his hair and face. He reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, “I know.”
When Katia started dating Paul Underwood, an infamous crime lord, she never expected to end up here. In her father’s shitty apartment, his dead body on the floor. “He’s dead.” She repeated, as if in disbelief.
“I did it for you.” Paul removed the hand from his girlfriends cheek, pulling a red handkerchief from the pocket on the inside of his suit jacket. He carefully dabbed the blood from his pale skin.
Katia didn’t move. She simply watched from a distance as Paul began to take care of the body. “Thank you.”
“No reason to thank me.”
“You freed me of him.” Katia stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind, her eyes closing.
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[WP] Your family always told that if you're ever in trouble just hold your hand out to the moon. Well one day a group of thugs are beating you and in a moment of desperation you hold out your hand. You notice something coming down from sky...
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He was too naive and too ambitious. Quite frankly he was a nuisance. All that bravado for simply doing his job.
So they took a part of him and hid it on the earth's moon. And rest of him? Reborn in a humble house at the edge of the city.
The young boy saw how the life worked down here. How the strong preyed on the weak. He stayed out of trouble on every turn.
It cost him a piece of his conscience every time he looked away from injustice. But what could he do? They told him to look to the moon for help, what a load of nonsense that was!
Until he couldn't look away anymore. When enough was enough. And he was made to bend and kneel for standing up for someone else.
Muscles screaming in agony, bones fractured. This is how the life was down here. He swore by his life to do the right thing on every turn.
Against all sense, he held out his hand to the moon for help. And against all odds, the moon delivered. The missing piece of him came flying back to him and with it, came the memory of a life lived long ago.
In that instant, he became what he was always meant to be.
If you were close enough, you saw nothing but bolts of lightening. If you were far away, you saw thunder cracking down. But he knew what he was, and he proclaimed it to the sky, the earth and all the gods that could hear.
"Hell Yeah, I'm still worthy!"
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The moment I raised my palm out to the moon I could see a flash from in between my fingers. Another kick to my side and I could taste the blood pooling in my mouth. I didn't even know how many there were pummeling me just that I wasn't sure what to do. My palm came down as I tried to cover my face from another kick. That was when the alley suddenly erupted in a thunderous maelstrom of sound. As if lightning cracked down in the center, a wave of force pushed my attackers off me.
​
It was so loud I couldn't hear anything my assailants were saying as their bodies were tossed away, most far enough to collide into a few dumpster bins. After only a moment, I realized the wave of force didn't seem to affect me. A moment after that, I could see a pale blue light illuminating the alley as if a flood light were flipped on. I tried to peer through the bright light, holding a hand over my eyes as I attempted to crawl to my feet from the floor.
​
Before I could say anything a metallic voice as if being spoken through a long metal tube came from the light, "Heir Apparent 1 has been secured." In confusion I shook my head and immediately regretted it. The beating I had taken had left me in bad shape and I wasn't to know just how bad while this tremendous light blinded me.
​
"Uh, hello?" I asked, my voice broken and immediately fell into a coughing fit, spitting up blood after a few moments.
​
"Your vitals are troubling, can you stand, 1?" The voice boomed once more, that's when I realized the thunderous noise had gone and I could begin to hear my attackers starting to gain their footing.
​
A few more coughs, "N-no, I don't think so. Who are you?"
​
"Irrelevant." Two more thunderous cracks could be heard and suddenly, there were two strange forms besides me. The bright light suddenly began to dim and I was able to focus on my surroundings. The two forms looked almost human but were much bulkier than expected. It seemed like they wore great armor suits that were bright white with dark blue accents and great pauldrons adorned their shoulders. Odd, angular looking helmets looked me over with faint, turquoise colored eyes. "You will not be escorted home, please be safe, 1."
​
I turned my head to where the light had dimmed and finally was able to make out the hulking mass of what looked like a tank on four legs. It was also white but with red accents and had many protrusions coming out of what I could only describe as the turret. They looked like barrels of some kind. The two forms lifted me up and I felt weightless. "Home?" was all I could say before another bright light filled my vision and the alley disappeared.
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[WP] Your family always told that if you're ever in trouble just hold your hand out to the moon. Well one day a group of thugs are beating you and in a moment of desperation you hold out your hand. You notice something coming down from sky...
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(WP) The Savior of Moonlight
“Remember, my love, if you’re ever in trouble, just hold out your hand, palm out, and you will get the help you need, no matter where you are.”
My mother had said that from the time I was a little boy, and I didn’t think much of it, until the night that I drank a bit too much and decided to walk home. I didn’t hear them until they almost on me, and by then, it was too late.
A blow to the back of my head, the metallic, bitter tang of blood in my mouth where I’d bitten through my lip. Drunken laughter and the stink of cologne.
“What an idiot! What kind of person walks through this neighborhood at this time of night? He’s got no sense.” Someone said, punctuating the insults with a few kicks to the ribs that had me coughing.
“Why are you complaining?” Someone else asked, laughing. “His bad luck is our gain.”
My eyes streamed as more blows rained down on my body; even after I curled up in the fetal position, they didn’t abate.
I remembered my mother’s words, and in desperation, I unclenched my right hand and held it up, palm upturned toward the moonlight.
\*\*
I was blinded by a sheet of silvery, white light, and I gasped, closing my eyes against the intrusion. Maybe it was the drink, and the agony from being beaten nearly to death. Maybe I was just hallucinating. But from my vantage point on the blacktop, I saw a blurred, outlined silhouette, and around it were the prone, sedate bodies of the thugs who had attacked me.
Could it be that the moon had heard my cry for help?
“Don’t try to move, child, you’re gravely injured,” The shadow spoke, and it certainly wasn’t in any language I’d ever heard, but somehow, I still understood it.
“Who are you?” I choked out, spitting out some loose teeth as I did so. They landed at the thing’s feet, glimmering in the light it emitted like tiny, misplaced pearls.
“Silly, foolish boy,” It said, and I could’ve sworn that I heard laughter in its strange, melodic voice. “You’ve known me all your life, Jericho. Remember those myths that your mother told you when you were little? They’re real, child. But hidden from those who are unworthy.”
Did that mean that *I* was worthy to gaze upon a being older than time itself? It seemed too good to be true. Perhaps the thing could see the incredulity on my face, because it laughed again, the sound like bright bells.
“It was your mother, really. She asked me to watch over you.” The being’s voice was fading, and before I finally lost consciousness, it took the form of a lithe, beautiful woman with long, white curls, and her eyes were a sparkling, beguiling lilac. She looked like an illustration rendered in a storybook. “And how could I say no to a woman who has paid tribute to me for all her life?” She smiled at me, kissing my forehead so softly that I wondered if I’d imagined it.
When I awoke the next morning in the hospital, I was almost certain I’d dreamed up the whole thing. But the pain was indeed real, and on the inside of my forearm, a bright violet rune was etched, the skin raised and angry at the fresh wound.
\*\*
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The moment I raised my palm out to the moon I could see a flash from in between my fingers. Another kick to my side and I could taste the blood pooling in my mouth. I didn't even know how many there were pummeling me just that I wasn't sure what to do. My palm came down as I tried to cover my face from another kick. That was when the alley suddenly erupted in a thunderous maelstrom of sound. As if lightning cracked down in the center, a wave of force pushed my attackers off me.
​
It was so loud I couldn't hear anything my assailants were saying as their bodies were tossed away, most far enough to collide into a few dumpster bins. After only a moment, I realized the wave of force didn't seem to affect me. A moment after that, I could see a pale blue light illuminating the alley as if a flood light were flipped on. I tried to peer through the bright light, holding a hand over my eyes as I attempted to crawl to my feet from the floor.
​
Before I could say anything a metallic voice as if being spoken through a long metal tube came from the light, "Heir Apparent 1 has been secured." In confusion I shook my head and immediately regretted it. The beating I had taken had left me in bad shape and I wasn't to know just how bad while this tremendous light blinded me.
​
"Uh, hello?" I asked, my voice broken and immediately fell into a coughing fit, spitting up blood after a few moments.
​
"Your vitals are troubling, can you stand, 1?" The voice boomed once more, that's when I realized the thunderous noise had gone and I could begin to hear my attackers starting to gain their footing.
​
A few more coughs, "N-no, I don't think so. Who are you?"
​
"Irrelevant." Two more thunderous cracks could be heard and suddenly, there were two strange forms besides me. The bright light suddenly began to dim and I was able to focus on my surroundings. The two forms looked almost human but were much bulkier than expected. It seemed like they wore great armor suits that were bright white with dark blue accents and great pauldrons adorned their shoulders. Odd, angular looking helmets looked me over with faint, turquoise colored eyes. "You will not be escorted home, please be safe, 1."
​
I turned my head to where the light had dimmed and finally was able to make out the hulking mass of what looked like a tank on four legs. It was also white but with red accents and had many protrusions coming out of what I could only describe as the turret. They looked like barrels of some kind. The two forms lifted me up and I felt weightless. "Home?" was all I could say before another bright light filled my vision and the alley disappeared.
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[WP] Your family always told that if you're ever in trouble just hold your hand out to the moon. Well one day a group of thugs are beating you and in a moment of desperation you hold out your hand. You notice something coming down from sky...
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*Me: I just wanted to be normal. Why do things keep happening to me?*
**CRACK**. One of them kicked me again. I can't breathe! I'm coughing up blood. There's blood everywhere.
*Him: That's not your role. Everyone has a part to play. Yours hasn't come to fruition yet.*
I hear words…I can't hear them well….they're talking about me. "is….e….ad?" one of them says. The pain grips me. I just want to die.
*Me: What should I do then? They keep coming for me. I run but they'll catch me eventually.*
I'm pushed onto my back by a boot. There are three of them this time. They almost look human. Their silhouettes hover over me against the moon above us.
*Him: Reach your hand out to me and I shall grasp it firmly. I do not know your role, but I shall ensure it comes to pass.*
Everything hurts. I slowly extend my right hand, then right arm, towards the moon. One of them grabs it, laughing. "….othing persona-…jus-…usiness."
I see something twinkle in the sky. Something silhouetted against the moon. It's getting larger. It's angry...
---
"Is he dead?" I ask. The boy stopped struggling. I look over at 0004. He pushes the boy over and looks at him. Tough for a human. He's still alive. The boy tries reaching his hand up.
0004 grabs the boy's hand and laughs. Looking down at the boy he says "Nothing personal kid, it's just business." All three of us laugh.
Then I hear it. I look up. "INCOMING" I shout and jump backwards. 0004 looks up instead of dodging. It crashes into him. Smoke and dust fill the air obscuring my vision. Then I see its eyes. They're pulsing red.
0003 starts running in the opposite direction. Idiot. You can't run from it. I draw my blade. It moves with incredible speed towards 0003. It dashes through him. His once whole body collapses in four parts.
"Come on and fight me beast." I shout towards it. I, 0008, shall not die here without a fight. The eyes turn to face me. Its hard body shines in the moonlight. It darts towards me. I charge forward with my blade.
---
He's lying on the ground, barely alive. His vitals are weak. I crouch and put my hand on his forehead. "It's alright now." His cuts seal and color in his face begin to return.
I look up at the guardian. "Thank you. Please find any others that are nearby." Its eyes show understanding. It flies upward back into the sky.
My nephew stirs. I return my gaze to him. "I'm sorry it came to this. We can no longer leave you on your own. I'm taking you with me. I don't care if the seers say to not interfere."
I pick him up. It hurts every time. They sprout out in my back. Their full width extends out to both walls of the alley. My wings flap, lifting me out of this tainted place.
---
Check out r/ProfessorCynical for more stories like this!
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The moment I raised my palm out to the moon I could see a flash from in between my fingers. Another kick to my side and I could taste the blood pooling in my mouth. I didn't even know how many there were pummeling me just that I wasn't sure what to do. My palm came down as I tried to cover my face from another kick. That was when the alley suddenly erupted in a thunderous maelstrom of sound. As if lightning cracked down in the center, a wave of force pushed my attackers off me.
​
It was so loud I couldn't hear anything my assailants were saying as their bodies were tossed away, most far enough to collide into a few dumpster bins. After only a moment, I realized the wave of force didn't seem to affect me. A moment after that, I could see a pale blue light illuminating the alley as if a flood light were flipped on. I tried to peer through the bright light, holding a hand over my eyes as I attempted to crawl to my feet from the floor.
​
Before I could say anything a metallic voice as if being spoken through a long metal tube came from the light, "Heir Apparent 1 has been secured." In confusion I shook my head and immediately regretted it. The beating I had taken had left me in bad shape and I wasn't to know just how bad while this tremendous light blinded me.
​
"Uh, hello?" I asked, my voice broken and immediately fell into a coughing fit, spitting up blood after a few moments.
​
"Your vitals are troubling, can you stand, 1?" The voice boomed once more, that's when I realized the thunderous noise had gone and I could begin to hear my attackers starting to gain their footing.
​
A few more coughs, "N-no, I don't think so. Who are you?"
​
"Irrelevant." Two more thunderous cracks could be heard and suddenly, there were two strange forms besides me. The bright light suddenly began to dim and I was able to focus on my surroundings. The two forms looked almost human but were much bulkier than expected. It seemed like they wore great armor suits that were bright white with dark blue accents and great pauldrons adorned their shoulders. Odd, angular looking helmets looked me over with faint, turquoise colored eyes. "You will not be escorted home, please be safe, 1."
​
I turned my head to where the light had dimmed and finally was able to make out the hulking mass of what looked like a tank on four legs. It was also white but with red accents and had many protrusions coming out of what I could only describe as the turret. They looked like barrels of some kind. The two forms lifted me up and I felt weightless. "Home?" was all I could say before another bright light filled my vision and the alley disappeared.
|
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[WP] Your family always told that if you're ever in trouble just hold your hand out to the moon. Well one day a group of thugs are beating you and in a moment of desperation you hold out your hand. You notice something coming down from sky...
|
(WP) The Savior of Moonlight
“Remember, my love, if you’re ever in trouble, just hold out your hand, palm out, and you will get the help you need, no matter where you are.”
My mother had said that from the time I was a little boy, and I didn’t think much of it, until the night that I drank a bit too much and decided to walk home. I didn’t hear them until they almost on me, and by then, it was too late.
A blow to the back of my head, the metallic, bitter tang of blood in my mouth where I’d bitten through my lip. Drunken laughter and the stink of cologne.
“What an idiot! What kind of person walks through this neighborhood at this time of night? He’s got no sense.” Someone said, punctuating the insults with a few kicks to the ribs that had me coughing.
“Why are you complaining?” Someone else asked, laughing. “His bad luck is our gain.”
My eyes streamed as more blows rained down on my body; even after I curled up in the fetal position, they didn’t abate.
I remembered my mother’s words, and in desperation, I unclenched my right hand and held it up, palm upturned toward the moonlight.
\*\*
I was blinded by a sheet of silvery, white light, and I gasped, closing my eyes against the intrusion. Maybe it was the drink, and the agony from being beaten nearly to death. Maybe I was just hallucinating. But from my vantage point on the blacktop, I saw a blurred, outlined silhouette, and around it were the prone, sedate bodies of the thugs who had attacked me.
Could it be that the moon had heard my cry for help?
“Don’t try to move, child, you’re gravely injured,” The shadow spoke, and it certainly wasn’t in any language I’d ever heard, but somehow, I still understood it.
“Who are you?” I choked out, spitting out some loose teeth as I did so. They landed at the thing’s feet, glimmering in the light it emitted like tiny, misplaced pearls.
“Silly, foolish boy,” It said, and I could’ve sworn that I heard laughter in its strange, melodic voice. “You’ve known me all your life, Jericho. Remember those myths that your mother told you when you were little? They’re real, child. But hidden from those who are unworthy.”
Did that mean that *I* was worthy to gaze upon a being older than time itself? It seemed too good to be true. Perhaps the thing could see the incredulity on my face, because it laughed again, the sound like bright bells.
“It was your mother, really. She asked me to watch over you.” The being’s voice was fading, and before I finally lost consciousness, it took the form of a lithe, beautiful woman with long, white curls, and her eyes were a sparkling, beguiling lilac. She looked like an illustration rendered in a storybook. “And how could I say no to a woman who has paid tribute to me for all her life?” She smiled at me, kissing my forehead so softly that I wondered if I’d imagined it.
When I awoke the next morning in the hospital, I was almost certain I’d dreamed up the whole thing. But the pain was indeed real, and on the inside of my forearm, a bright violet rune was etched, the skin raised and angry at the fresh wound.
\*\*
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He was too naive and too ambitious. Quite frankly he was a nuisance. All that bravado for simply doing his job.
So they took a part of him and hid it on the earth's moon. And rest of him? Reborn in a humble house at the edge of the city.
The young boy saw how the life worked down here. How the strong preyed on the weak. He stayed out of trouble on every turn.
It cost him a piece of his conscience every time he looked away from injustice. But what could he do? They told him to look to the moon for help, what a load of nonsense that was!
Until he couldn't look away anymore. When enough was enough. And he was made to bend and kneel for standing up for someone else.
Muscles screaming in agony, bones fractured. This is how the life was down here. He swore by his life to do the right thing on every turn.
Against all sense, he held out his hand to the moon for help. And against all odds, the moon delivered. The missing piece of him came flying back to him and with it, came the memory of a life lived long ago.
In that instant, he became what he was always meant to be.
If you were close enough, you saw nothing but bolts of lightening. If you were far away, you saw thunder cracking down. But he knew what he was, and he proclaimed it to the sky, the earth and all the gods that could hear.
"Hell Yeah, I'm still worthy!"
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[WP] There is a magical statue at the centre of town that transforms into the most important person to the town every year. But this year, it turns into someone nobody recognises.
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In the little hamlet of a town known as Glenwick, there was no greater honor. In such a rural location scant with intrigue and vanity, it was the highest possible achievement. The people who lived there dedicated themselves to the betterment of the village and each other in hopes of being graced with the honor. It had become the tradition of the village nearly 800 years prior when the village had been established by Sven Masgard.
Masgard, as the story goes, was once a member of a prominent family of masons that had built their fortune over generations creating some of the most immaculate statues ever to be seen. Monarchs from the far reaches of the earth would send envoys with as much gold as they could carry in hopes of contracting a Masgard mason to immortalize themselves in marble forever. The Masgard family became so rich and powerful, that they began to cater to only the richest of bidders.
Sven on the other hand felt that his family had begun to stray from what made their statues truly beautiful. The family, as he had seen it, had traded their soul for opulence. Sven had always preferred to sculpt less fortunate people. The poor he found always seemed more real to him than the aristocrats who always asked him to ignore the blemishes and shave off a few pounds on their statues. He eschewed the big city life and left for greener pastures. Using the money bequeathed to him from his family name, he established Glenwick as a small homestead. He hired many assistants to help manage his homestead while he worked tirelessly on establishing his own masonry workshop.
He had found peace and inspiration with the people he had gathered around himself. He always made it his mission to honor those who had helped him by immortalizing them in stone as well. Sven Masgard spent the remainder of his days sculpting thousands of statues to commemorate the people of Glenwick. He died with his tools in hand working on one last statue. Masgard's final statue as it would come to be known by the citizens of Glenwick. This statue lacked facial features. In fact it lacked any distinguishing features. The people decided the best way to honor Masgard was to hold a gallery of his works in the center of the village so everyone could enjoy his work. The unfinished statue was to be included as a memento despite its appearance.
The most peculiar thing occurred when they unveiled his final statue. The statue began transforming before their eyes. Eyes began popping through the marble along with lips and ears. Marble fell away revealing arms and legs. Once the people of Glenwick got over their intial shock, they realized they were looking at a statue of none other than Sven Masgard who stood there smiling back at them. They carefully installed the statue on a pedestal in the center of town. They had always assumed the statue was just some final interesting trick by Masgard as a farewell to the people. At least, that is what they had thought until the anniversary of his death a year later when the statue had turned into Gregory Ames, the healer that had helped the village get through a small pox epidemic. The following year it had turned into Kit Shaw, the farmer who had provided enough crop for the town during one of its worst droughts.
Every year the statue turned into someone else that had done their part to help support the village. Every anniversary of Masgard's death had become the "Transformation Festival" where the entire village gathered and celebrated. The person who the statue transformed into would be showered with gifts and praise, along with a banquet in their honor. Over the years it had become some what of a competition between the members of the village. People would place bets on who they thought would win. People would get into arguments on who they thought deserved it most. Families would shun their members who failed to achieve the honor. Then something odd happened. The time of the transformation festival came, and the statue transformed into someone no one recognized.
Glenwick was still very small with only a few hundred people. It was very safe to say that "everyone knew everyone" and yet here was this strange statue in the center of town with an unrecognizable face. The word confusion is not sufficient in describing the reaction of the people of Glenwick. In nearly 800 years of this festival there had never been a situation such as this. There was no one to shower gifts and praise on. There was no banquet in someone's honor to be had. For days people stared at this statue in bewilderment, guessing at who the statue could be. The statue itself was of a young boy probably no older than 10 or 11 years old which created even more confusion. What could a mere child have done to achieve such an honor?
Months had passed and the mysterious statue still weighed heavily on the minds of the people of Glenwick. One day things took an interesting turn when a group of nomadic tradesmen set up shop in the middle of town. They set up their tables and stalls and begun selling trinkets and other odds and ends from all over the world. The citizens were giddy with excitement and crowded the many stalls. No one much paid attention to one of the younger nomads that was running around and playing in the square.
The young boy had found himself lost in the mass of people that and trampled around him and he needed a good vantage point to be able to see. He found the nearest thing he could and set himself to climb. He had gotten just far enough where he could see just over the tops of the people's heads when a rather quiet crack sounded. Then another slightly louder crack followed...and another, and suddenly the young boy found himself toppling over with the statue he had been wrapped around. The crashing noise of the statue brought the entire square to a halt as the citizens turned in shock. Masgard's final statue laid in unrecognizable shambles. There was a cry of anger rising throughout the crowd until the young boy got up and dusted himself off. The angry tone of the crowd quickly turned to shock as standing before them was a boy who looked identical to the statue. The boy's father quickly grabbed him while the crowd was busy gathering their senses and took off.
"What does this mean?" people wondered. What was Masgard trying to tell the people of this small village? That some boy breaking an 800 year old tradition was what was best for the village? The people quietly cleaned up the debris of the statue and returned to their homes unsure of what to do.
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The streets were crowded for days. Everyone tried to understand who she was, fishing for any kind of memory she would trigger, but nothing seemed to satisfy them. She was a stranger to everyone, but at the same time, whenever I look up to her solid image, I felt something warm touching my heart. Fuzzy, but also sad. It was strange, considering that I was sure to have never met such a beautiful person in my entire life... Just who was she?
I wandered through the town, hoping to find any clue that would lead to satisfying my curiousity. The usual faces greeted me along the way. It was a small town, so it would be impossible to walk around the streets as a stranger while being unnoticed. It just didn't make any sense!
"Hideaki. Are you alright?"
Suddenly a small figure appeared in front of me, waving with her hands in front of my face. It was Shimone. I didn't even neeed to say anything about my concerns, she already could grasp my train of thought. She just knew me too well.
"You are thinking about her, huh? You know, you shouldn't pry into business that isn't yours."
There was nothing I could add to that. She was right. She was always right. But I didn't want to give in to her this time. I couldn't let it go. And she already knew that, even before she walked up to me.
"If you really think that this is for the best... You know, I trust you. You're strong, but..."
The always cheerful Shimone gave me one last glance before she walked past me. She was still the same girl i knew since we were toddlers. Those deep green eyes of hers, when did they become so sorrowful?
I followed her back to the statue, which was still smiling as bright as sunflowers on a calm, sunny day.
"What do you feel when you see her? Happiness... Sadness... Anger?"
There were many things I felt while seeing her for the first time. Changing with each glance I take. There was only one thing that came into my mind, that would fit these funny feelings of mine perfectly - "Nostalgia". A feeling of being confronted with something unknown yet familiar...
"Nostalgia, huh? That sounds about right. You won't believe me if I say this, but you know her more than anyone else in this town. Our saviour. Your one and only."
What was she talking about? I couldnt' understand those words she said, as if she was trying to tell me a story in a foreign language. Nothing made sense. I couldn't make sense of it! She finally turned around, tears running down her unusually serious face.
"It's time for you to remember. Those days filled with happiness and love, she tried to protect the most."
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[WP] There is a magical statue at the centre of town that transforms into the most important person to the town every year. But this year, it turns into someone nobody recognises.
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It was the same person every year that ridiculous statue would turn to. His name was Darrek Redlinter, an affluent, older man who often completely funded from his own pocket our little town's needs. Sewer line busted? He paid for it. Water main contaiminated with this or that? Not a problem when he heard it needed a fix.
Make no mistake, I don't call that statue ridiculous because I don't like Redlinter, or the statue. I call it ridiculous because it's just so out of place here. A most literal description, as it were. Shouldn't something like this be in a big city?
But I digress. This year, it crumbled like it always did, so it could reassemble as it would. No one paid the process much mind, because we all had it in our heads we knew how it'd go. Even after it was finished, no one even noticed it had changed for a good hour.
For weeks, people were confused, but Redlinter said one word when he saw the new depiction: "Finally"
I asked him when no one else would: Why? Why finally?
And so he told me.
"I have been as wealthy as I am all my life, living lavishly and fully. I did this and that with no thoughts of tomorrow, since I had no need to worry about it. Then one day, my eyes were opened when I made my most heinous mistake. I swore that day, so long as I had a say for it, I would never let someone else have that same pain, or inflict it. So I came here when I heard of a statue, that would reform itself in the image of the most important person to the world from here every year. This little town? Far from the only recipient of my gifts. And every year I looked again at this statue, and waited until it formed as the token of my absolution. This year, at long last, I am redeemed."
"But I don't understand. What was the mistake?"
"My closest friend died when I failed to even notice her illness, let alone save her as I blinded myself with luxury. You look upon her now."
I turned back around to the statue of a Siamese cat.
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The streets were crowded for days. Everyone tried to understand who she was, fishing for any kind of memory she would trigger, but nothing seemed to satisfy them. She was a stranger to everyone, but at the same time, whenever I look up to her solid image, I felt something warm touching my heart. Fuzzy, but also sad. It was strange, considering that I was sure to have never met such a beautiful person in my entire life... Just who was she?
I wandered through the town, hoping to find any clue that would lead to satisfying my curiousity. The usual faces greeted me along the way. It was a small town, so it would be impossible to walk around the streets as a stranger while being unnoticed. It just didn't make any sense!
"Hideaki. Are you alright?"
Suddenly a small figure appeared in front of me, waving with her hands in front of my face. It was Shimone. I didn't even neeed to say anything about my concerns, she already could grasp my train of thought. She just knew me too well.
"You are thinking about her, huh? You know, you shouldn't pry into business that isn't yours."
There was nothing I could add to that. She was right. She was always right. But I didn't want to give in to her this time. I couldn't let it go. And she already knew that, even before she walked up to me.
"If you really think that this is for the best... You know, I trust you. You're strong, but..."
The always cheerful Shimone gave me one last glance before she walked past me. She was still the same girl i knew since we were toddlers. Those deep green eyes of hers, when did they become so sorrowful?
I followed her back to the statue, which was still smiling as bright as sunflowers on a calm, sunny day.
"What do you feel when you see her? Happiness... Sadness... Anger?"
There were many things I felt while seeing her for the first time. Changing with each glance I take. There was only one thing that came into my mind, that would fit these funny feelings of mine perfectly - "Nostalgia". A feeling of being confronted with something unknown yet familiar...
"Nostalgia, huh? That sounds about right. You won't believe me if I say this, but you know her more than anyone else in this town. Our saviour. Your one and only."
What was she talking about? I couldnt' understand those words she said, as if she was trying to tell me a story in a foreign language. Nothing made sense. I couldn't make sense of it! She finally turned around, tears running down her unusually serious face.
"It's time for you to remember. Those days filled with happiness and love, she tried to protect the most."
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[WP] "We left home to kill the ancient gods. Not because they were harming us, but because their existence was causing others to harm each other. If we could kill them, and show their corpses, people would finally know: the Gods are dead."
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A faint shuffle interrupted my meditation, I knew that shuffling all too well. Another one of them must be coming down. My senses began to come back to the present and the feeling came roaring back to my extremities. Based off the desiccation, around 300 years had passed since their last visit.
Funny lives these little creatures lived; ah yes, humans is what they call themselves. I chuckled again to myself for what had to be the umpteenth time. For all the knowledge us gods had, creating humans was certainly a perplexing moment in our existence. I had warned everyone; no matter how bored we got creating beings in our own likeness no trivial affair. But no one listened. The gods were giddy and drunk with power, as if we didn’t have enough of that. Creating something of our own, that was like us, that worshipped us... a proposition even Tyani and Tyeta put aside their eternal war for. We even got so excited we wiped out a perfect paradise of creatures. With one swing of his club, Poto sent a rock hurtling down to this planet, wiping out all the majestic creatures, dinosaurs the humans called them.
I was interrupted by the whirring on the other side of the door. They were getting ready for another ceremony. With a sigh i braced myself, this next part was never pleasant. Over the course of 1000 years this is probably the 347th time they’re doing the ceremony. I never understood the fanfare behind but then again, I’m not human.
The doors creaked and groaned with all the protestation of beings that had been immobile for three centuries. As the doors spread apart, I braced myself for the death-like pain that always followed. For a fraction of a billionth of a second i felt the sealed Runes of Navhror break. This was different, they always used the god poison to keep me down first, then broke the runes.
I did not need a second invitation. With the ease that comes from a trillion years of battle I snapped the neck of the first guard. A little slower than my best but compared to the humans simply a blink of an eye. Before the rest of the guards could react i decapitated all of them with a simple flick of my finger. My practiced body had quickly picked up its old skills, 30 pairs of eyes looked at me in horror as life drained out of their eyes. As their heads slopped off their shoulders and landed on the ground, I could feel my powers roaring back.
A smile spread across my face as I made it up the stairs, they would all be there in that Coliseum they used for the ceremony. A ceremony many of my fellow gods had succumbed to as these parasites watched on with a crazed glee in their eyes. A ceremony in which they used all manner of ancient poisons and weapons to snuff us out like cattle at the abattoir. A ceremony they had used to reduce their creators to but one god, Halthor, and i was about to show them what that name meant in our tongue...death.
The guards had been too easy but i wasn’t focussing on that. After all it had been over 1000 years since they last battled gods and had just resorted to simply sniffing them out like candles; some harder than others. As i came out of the gladiator’s entrance the crowds cheers quickly turned to shrieks of horror as i stepped out alone, with no guards. I was going to truly enjoy this.
I looked at the royal chamber to look at the new Kings, making sure they saw the face of the last god they would ever see, the last thing they would ever see. But what i saw intrigued me. Only one of the creatures, a woman sat on the throne, the rest of them were empty. I recognised her, it was Apanthe. She had been one of the last few warriors who began this ceremony after the war. But it couldn’t be, that was over a thousand years ago. As i stood there pondering this occurrence, an all too familiar chant boomed across the sky. A chant they always said at the beginning of the ceremony. “WE LEFT HOME TO KILL THE ANCIENT GODS. NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE HARMING US BUT BECAUSE THEIR EXISTENCE WAS CAUSING OTHERS TO HARM EACH OTHER. IF WE COULD KILL THEM AND SHOW THEIR CORPSES PEOPLE WOULD FINALLY KNOW....THE GODS ARE DEAD”
As they chanted she levitated off her chair and floated over to where i was standing. I felt the raw energy radiating from her, a familiar feeling. I began to understand now. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony of it all.
“I see you humans finally figured it out.” I stated, amused.
She did not say a word. She just stared coldly back, with a look in her eyes that immediately lit up a memory from the days of old. I memory I had hidden deep down and had thrown into the void. It was like looking in a mirror....hell i was looking in the mirror.
I laughed again, the irony too much to keep in. This time I addressed the crowd which had gone silent.
“You did indeed leave home to kill the ancient gods, all 100 of them and here i am, the final god. For a millenia you have been having this ceremony trying to end all gods, but you forgot one important detail. Energy cannot be created or destroyed, neither can gods!”
With that sentence Apanthe gave me an almighty blow which threw me through 4 free standing columns. I had felt pain before but this pain i hadn’t felt in a very long time. As i stood up i noticed silver liquid coming out of my nose....blood, my blood. She began to advance towards me, she began forming a weapon I hadn’t seen in a long time, the bolt of Zeus, my father’s weapon. I began laughing again and continued.
“The gods you call ancient were nothing but children. Children who got tired of being told what to do by their parents. We killed our parents and divided their powers amongst ourselves. We were clever enough to share the power so we could keep each other in check! But you, didn’t kill us all at once, you killed us one by one and without knowing it let one person take on all the powers of the gods!”
By this time Apanthe had reached me. I was tired, tired of fighting, of living and besides the humans already had a worse punishment than i could ever concoct. Apanthe drove the sword right through my heart. A feeling very alien to me. I felt the power rush out of me as i sank to my knees. My blood started changing color from silver back to ichor as the god powers drained out of me.
With the life force draining out of me, i laughed once more and said something that seemed beyond poetic to me:
“YOU LEFT HOME TO KILL THE ANCIENT GODS. NOT BECAUSE THEY WERE HARMING YOU BUT BECAUSE THEIR EXISTENCE WAS CAUSING OTHERS TO HARM EACH OTHER. YOU HAVE FINALLY KILLED THEM ALL....THE ANCIENT GODS ARE DEAD.....BUT NOW YOU HAVE A NEW ONE TO DEAL WITH!”
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Been browsing for awhile, finally decided to post my first response. Constructive criticism welcome :)
“Still waring over us, those fools”, a weary voice rumbled throughout the foundations of the dilapidated temple.
The dust that had settled over the past millennia stirred as a sigh echoed through the halls and swirled through the air. The dappled sunlight that beamed down through the cracks in the high ceiling filtered through the clouds of dust, making the ground seem as if it were steaming like a freshly brewed cup of tea. The sound of my footsteps was enveloped by the soft carpet of decay and did not echo in the stony hall. I craned my head, searching for the source of the omnipresent voice, but nothing stirred. I pushed on towards the large wooden doors towards the back of the hall. Meanwhile, the voice spoke again.
“We never asked them to defend our honor.”
“All the deaths of young men, the razing of cities, the murder of innocents. We did not ask for it,” another voice rasped regretfully in the darkness.
I placed my hand on the worn door that towered before me. The wood was dry and cracked, and its hinges shrieked, cutting through the silence, as I gave it a firm push. Before me was a massive circular room, just as decrepit as the hall before it. Along the edges were stone thrones hewn into the walls of the rooms like alcoves in a church. Sitting in each alcove were shriveled bodies adorned in cloths that must have been pure white in the distant past. The delicate gold embroidery had dulled, and dust had settled even in the folds of the cloth. Two figures stirred on their adjacent thrones, sending up clouds into the air around them. One of them coughed knowingly, undoubtedly aware of my intention.
“You have come to finish us off.”
“Yes.”
My voice dropped in the silence like a pebble in a pool of still water.
“Yes. Yes, I have”, I continued, filling my voice with more confidence than I internally felt.
“Then so be it,” replied the other figure, raising their wrinkled face to look at me. “It is not like it matters, there is only us two left. The others have departed this plane long before us.’
They gestured towards the other shrouded figures reclining motionless on their thrones with a withered arm.
“Perhaps it is time to join them.”
“I hope our deaths grant your kind peace.”
I approached the two elderly gods, drawing a small silver dagger from my robes. I hesitated, gazing into their clouded eyes.
“It is time, my dear,” one whispered, smiling at me as their crows’ feet etched deeper around her eyes.
I closed my eyes as I plunged the dagger into each of their chests, as long sighs flowed out from their bodies, whipping the dust in the room into a frenzy before scattering in all directions. The presences that I had felt before were gone from the room, and all that was left was a heavy emptiness in the room. This same heaviness filled me as I drew the bloodless dagger out. If the gods did not know if their deaths would cease the bloodshed, how could I?
​
Thinking about continuing it, but I've procrastinated enough on my homework.
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[WP] "We left home to kill the ancient gods. Not because they were harming us, but because their existence was causing others to harm each other. If we could kill them, and show their corpses, people would finally know: the Gods are dead."
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If only we had known there were so many of them. Gods of home and hearth, of thunder and rain, or the harvest. Gods by the dozen. Gods by the bushel.
We spilled blood for generations. Seven hundred and twenty-two years. We burned, we butchered, and we bludgeoned.
At last, it was over. I stood in a puddle of what had been the last God. Tlazolteotl
the Aztec Goddess Of eating dirt. Unworshipped for centuries... but we are being thorough. I glance at the wreckage one last time, just to be sure.
"It's a new age." I think, as shoulder my axe and walk outside to join the others. Had I fallen one of them would have finished the job.
"It is done?", John asks.
"It is." I reply.
A cheer thunders from the crowd.
I hold my axe up proudly, displaying the broad flat head, smeared with god blood.
A far off voice shouts, "Praise Willem!"
I shake the axe in the air, encouraging the crowd to chant. The clouds break, and I can feel the warmth of the sun on my back.
"Praise Willem!", the crowd picks up the chant. They repeat it over and over again, and in response I hold the axe above my head with both hands, just as a clap of thunder echos through the valley and the crowd goes silent.
I can't breath. I try to catch my breath, but a sharp pain shoots through my body. I feel the strength drain, and I fall.
Everything begins to dim.
The last thing I see is John, holstering his smoking gun.
The last thing I hear is John mutter "That's how it starts."
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I slunk through the grass, my eyes focused. A group of Them sat around a fire. I paused; assessing their threat. One man had a tattered white coat; our records indicated that meant he was a God of Healing. I mewed softly to my brethren, reminding them to kill him first. We didn't want to deal with the injured being restored.
A few of them carried the rods of death, gleaming in the firelight. I highlighted those as secondary targets of importance. The remainder, some 50 or so, huddled around the bonfire, murmurs of dispirited conversation reaching my awaiting ears. I blinked with pity, then slowly stretched my lips to reveal my fangs as I remembered the hell they had brought. I hissed, and my comrades sprang into action, silently racing forwards, claws unsheathed. I mourned the death of my many comrades from the clouds of fire and death that had come when the Gods had begun to fight. As shouts raised as they began to die, I blinked slowly.
For their sins, the old Gods must die. We are the new gods now. And let us never forget their fate.
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[WP] One day you decide to make a deal with the Devil to change your life around for the better. But everytime you try to summon him, nothing happens, not even a 'Hello'. So you decide to summon regular demon, only to have them bow before you and call you King.
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Nothing. Again. I knew the Lord of Darkness was a busy entity but he could have at least given me a sign. Even just a "Hello.". I was a nice evil sorcerer with decent powers, I just needed him to give me a chance to impress him. I had been trying to contact him for a while now, but neither the pentacle invocation nor the black mass worked. I even sacrificed some virgins and didn't even received a "Thank you" card in return. The Unholy Ruler's behaviour was bordering on rude at this point.
Well, if I couldn't reach him directly, maybe I could ask a damned soul to carry a message for me. I searched the Dark Pages for a suitable candidate. Balgor the Marked looked good. Maybe he could tell me why the Antichrist wasn't returning my calls. I already had everything ready to summon him, and with a few words of the cursed language, he was here. He looked impressive, with flames and snakes circling him.
"WHO DARES TO SUMMON BALG... Oh I'm sorry your majesty, I didn't realise it was you. Please forgive me for this mistake."
With a gesture, he made the flames and the snakes leave. He kneeled.
"Majesty? What are you talking about? I wish to speak with the Master of the Damned."
"Who? I'm sorry your Majesty, but you see, we have so many titles it's difficult to remember them all and..."
"You know, the Dark Lord? the Cursed King?"
It was usually hard to read a demon's expression, but Balgor's was definitely a blank stare. I sighed.
"The Devil?"
"Oh... Well, I'm confused your Majesty. You are the Devil."
"Me? That's ridiculous. I would remember that, wouldn't I?"
"Welll... I think it has something to do with hiding from another demon who wants to take your place on the Dead Throne. A kind of plot where you hide as a human and cut all contact with our world until your army settle this matter. That's why I was surprised when I saw that it was you who called me. You know, that was pretty dangerous for you and..."
"Enough! Begone now!"
So I was Satan himself, heh? And all I needed to do to gain absolute power was to remain hidden from demons until I died? I could do that. From now on, there would be no more summoning. A small price to pay for the Throne of Hell.
_____
Balgor the Marked returned to hell and immediately kneeled again.
"Did he buy it?" The Devil asked.
"I think so, my Lord. But why don't you just tell him you aren't interested?"
"It's easier this way. You never know how people like him handle rejection."
As he was saying that, a goat appeared in the room. Etched on its skin where the words "Hey, what's up?". The Lord of Darkness sighed.
"I think there is another one again, Balgor."
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[Poem]
I wanted them gone
I wanted them to die
No one would listen
No one would try
I wanted the devil
I tried and tried
Nothing would work
Satan wouldn't pry
So I summoned a demon
And on the last step
The demon was summoned
I was filled with delight
But before I could open my mouth
The demon looked at me with distaste
"King, why did you lie?"
I was so confused
Then all of a sudden
I realised why he wouldn't come
Satan wasn't ignoring me, because Satan was I!
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[WP] You are a warden in an insane asylum for people with superpowers
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Bruce sighs and sits at his desk, prepared to write up his notes on the afternoon shift, glad hes off soon. By the time he finishes his notes, he'll have time for a last head count before turning over his keys.
He finishes his paperwork, stacks it to the side for pickup and filing, and sits back. Penguin, asleep. Joker, listening to music. Bane, glares and turns his back. He goes down the list of all of them, all where they should be. He looks at his keys, smooth and shining. Hes tired. It's been a long day. Group therapy, individual therapy, and not everyone was cooperative today.
Bane was aggressive towards a guard, Riddler was doing his normal, despite recent progress. Bruce was feeling a little discouraged about that.
Keys jingle, and doors screech. Bruce turns.
"Hey Mr. Wayne, it's time."
"Sure Mr. Johnson."
Bruce takes the small cup, and tips the pills back before accepting the water. Mr. Johnson looks at the uncut keys on Bruce's desk, they were a metaphor that Bruce could hold in his hand. It helped him control the demons he was trying to keep "locked up". He picks up the papers, and promises Bruce to get them to his therapist, then turns out of Bruce's room, and locks the door behind him.
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I sit at the desk of the head wardens office, looking concerned, the warden smiling at me, early half of his bottom teeth have vanished.
“You will be in the super-section” He laughs, but not in a nice way, I’m confused on what’s so funny, he’s always like this. But why?
After a while of trying to fine the darn place, I stumble across the room full of men all gathered in a circle. I think by “super-section” they were just generally insane,but I saw the spark travel through them all, they jerked like puppets on a string as the thin, needle-like jolt travelled through them all. The place was very dirty and stunk just the same, I was mad at the warden, why has he sent a trainee to a place that seems the top wardens can’t manage?
I open the door and they all look at me, I’m ready to shoot anyone, but try not to show it.
“He looks cute” says one
“He’s mine” says another. I shudder to what he meant by that.
“Guys just leave him,” booms the warden thumping in will Finn body armour, they all bow. He smiles at me and says, “so your the trainee?”
“Hah! a trainee, how pathetic!” mumbles one, still bowing. The warden pulls out his metal baton and starts to beat him. He screams over and over, a little dip in it as the metal rod strikes.
After “that” he leads to the armoury and tells me to suit up, I stare in a mirror, I look like a baby in this outfit.
“I’m gonna be ridiculed,” I whine,
“Not with me your not, if you wanna get there respect,” He points to the door were there all chatting “you gotta be strict,violent,” I can’t be any of those, but I have to now. He opens the door, “after you,” as soon as a walk out one of them walks up to me, and pushes me, I start to hyperventilate, he’s about to stomp when the warden runs in and knocks him out in one blow.
“That’s not how it’s meant to go!” He yells at me, pointing his baton at me. I puff up, and carry on. “I’m ready,” I think, “I can do this,” I sit in the corner trying not to make too much attention, when a guy walks over. He tried to pull my chair out and says, “Mine,” they all laugh. Sorry bud. I watch in horror as I start to beat him, I see the blood going al over the white floor, it’s like I can’t control myself! I stop in the end and look down at the bloody pulp of a man. Everything has gone silent. I earned my respect, but now I regret it...
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