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[WP] You are a warden in an insane asylum for people with superpowers
|
Nurse Regal shrugged a shoulder in response. There really wasn't an answer to the question. Well, not one single, unifying one.
We learned that in introduction to psychology. The human brain is a collection of chemicals and solids. Each one was extremely fragile and unique. There were so many chances for something to go wrong in the delicate balance that entailed a human mind. While there could be similarities, there were no two that shared the same cause. Even something as simple and devastating as head trauma was like a snowflake in the gray matter.
In the silence that followed our interaction, Professor Mint continued to drool, eyes unfocused. His body barely drew enough air to continue breathing. The last blow from that self-righteous prick, Mr. Pectacular, had left the entire right side of his face in a swollen blob.
A snap drew my attention back to Regal. With a bored purse of his lips, he nodded towards the door at the end of the ward. It was time to continue our rounds.
Just as well. There was nothing to be done here. At least, not right now.
Getting this job had been the easy part. Fixing the boss was going to take some time.
|
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...
|
|
[WP] You are a warden in an insane asylum for people with superpowers
|
Aiden stopped in the empty hallway when the sirens blared. It could only mean one thing: lockdown. Fear paralyzed him in the first few seconds, remembering some of the horror stories the senior guards told, but distant screams shook him out of his daze. No time to waste. Protocol dictated that he needed to round up as many personnel as possible and reach the nearest emergency safe room. If even one inmate got loose, everyone could be in great peril. His current uniform provided basic protection from some powers, but it wouldn't save him from any heavy-hitter on this floor.
Nothing happened for a while. Aiden used his radio but couldn't get a response from any other guard. Only dead static came out of the device. For all he knew, the entire place could be taken over by now. It didn't matter, though. Aiden was going to investigate the screaming either way. He couldn't leave someone behind.
Fortunately, none of the cells were open. Most of the inmates in this section were already locked away. Whoever caused the screams must've been undergoing therapy then. That meant they should be near the doctor's offices. By the time Aiden made it there, mummified corpses were scattered on the floor. Nurses, therapists, and even some guards. All were shriveled up, drained of their blood despite their gaping wounds. Aiden pulled out his tranquilizer gun. He didn't know what caused it, but it couldn't be good.
A soft whimper echoed out of a therapy room.
"Shut up, bitch!" shouted a man.
Aiden swallowed down his doubts, approaching the commotion with careful steps.
"I don't need you! I don't need anyone!" He chuckled. "I just need blood."
Aiden sneaked into the room, but the lady on the floor betrayed his presence by flickering her eyes at him.
The inmate turned around, widening his eyes with glee. "You..." He pointed at Aiden and a whip of blood flew out of his hand. It struck him in the abdomen, tearing a hole in his protective vest. "I was hoping I'd find you!"
Aiden fell prone. By the time he stood up, the inmate had already molded the blood around him into dozens of arrows that hovered above him. They flew through the air almost instantly, tracking his movements like guided missiles. Aiden could only dodge. His training taught him that this type of esper couldn't continue the assault without replenishing his resource through absorption. Unfortunately, there were still plenty of bodies to draw from in this room. Attrition wasn't a viable strategy in this situation.
The arrows ran out of energy. Aiden jumped over a table to get a clear shot, but the inmate stuck his hand into a corpse and summoned a veil of blood around him to deflect the tranquilizer. He then pooled it all into a sphere, flattened it into a spinning saw, and hurled it forward. Aiden took the opportunity to shoot again, missing. The saw blade cut into his right shoulder until it reached bone. It didn't dig too deep before dissipating, though.
Aiden stumbled up to his feet again. He couldn't aim properly anymore. The lady, a therapist, brandished a tranquilizer gun and gestured wildly at one of the fresh bodies. Aiden furrowed his brow, confused. The inmate grabbed another a corpse to restore himself. The following barrage was impossible to avoid. It sent the guard flying across the room. Aiden knew he wouldn't survive much longer. He glanced at the terrified therapist, who repeated the same gesture with her gun. Aiden widened his eyes, finally understanding her.
The inmate approached another body. Aiden unloaded all of his remaining ammo when he saw the opening. The inmate summoned a veil again and began the absorption process. In his hurry, he didn't notice that the corpse had been already been riddled with tranquilizers by the therapist. The sedative took effect almost immediately. He couldn't even react before falling face-forward.
Aiden breathed a sigh of relief. His wounds throbbed with burning pain, but they were a reminder that he was still alive.
The therapist walked up to him. "Can you walk?"
Aiden winced. "Y-yeah."
The therapist helped him up. "What about him?"
Aiden looked at the inmate. "He should be out for a few hours. Security in the upper floors will eventually get here and take care of him."
"Oh do we go get them?"
"No, we need to wait it out in the safe room." Aiden narrowed his eyes. "It's impossible to leave a floor on lockdown. Shouldn't you know this?"
The therapist made an apologetic smile. "S-sorry, this is my first week."
Aiden chortled. "Hell of a time to start."
They limped through the hallways in silence. Aiden guided them to the safe room, inputted the passcode, and sealed the door behind them. It was empty. No other staff had made it here. Aiden ignored grim thoughts. It was beyond his control now. Whatever caused this lockdown must be affecting the entire compound. After tending his wounds with a first aid kit, Aiden leaned back on a cushioned chair and said:
"We're should consider ourselves lucky."
The therapist nodded, sitting across from him. "Agreed."
"I bet you're having second thoughts about your choice of profession, though."
The therapist opened her mouth, hesitated to speak, but then said:
"I still stand by the choices that led me here, even if the circumstances are regrettable. Espers don't deserve the treatment they receive."
Aiden rolled his eyes. "You're one of them bleeding hearts, eh?"
The therapist scoffed.
"What?"
"Have you ever considered that none of these people ever had a chance at a normal life?"
"Some of them did."
"No, they didn't. Having powers is something that very few people can handle on their own."
"Like our friend back there?"
The therapist looked away. "Watkins is a special case. You can't compare every esper with a mob enforcer like him."
"This is ridiculous."
"Why?"
"He tried to kill us! There's no way you can build a society with someone like him around."
"This isn't supposed to be a prison."
Aiden shrugged. "Maybe; maybe not. Still, keeping freaks like him locked up doesn't seem like a mistake."
"That's not what I mean." She took a deep breath. "Do you honestly think the public would approve of this?"
Aiden pursed his lips. "Well, that doesn't matter now, does it?"
"I think it does. As long as espers are denied rights, we'll keep perpetuating the circumstances that create people like Watkins."
"Right, so we should cause mass hysteria by revealing their existence? Some of these people could blow up a building with a thought!"
The therapist crossed her arms. "Not all abilities are as overt as that. Some espers could live genuinely fulfilling lives if people stopped fearing them."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Yes, I... I know of this girl who willingly came here because she thought it would help her. It was a lie, though. They just locked her up like all the others. Her progress was never good enough for her doctors."
"What was her power?"
"It was a case of subtle hypnosis that she couldn't control. Nobody ever suspected her of wrongdoing while she was present, no matter how obvious she made her guilt."
Aiden shivered. "Sounds dangerous."
"That's what many thought, including her. When the government discovered her, they sent powerful agents to bring her over. They guilted her into coming here using the logic you're espousing. She never hurt anyone. Tell me, was that fair to her?"
"I... I don't know."
"Exactly."
Aiden fell silent. He wanted to keep arguing, but the therapist had a point. Then again, she was still new here. Maybe the fact that Watkins didn't see her as a threat reinforced these silly ideas. Given enough exposure to the monsters here, she might change her mind on the necessity of this place. Aiden narrowed his eyes. Her doctor's coat was too big for her. Almost like it didn't belong to her. Whatever. Aiden wanted to point it out in case she didn't realize it, but her mood didn't seem particularly receptive at the moment. He would have to wait until they got out of the compound to let her know.
--------
>If you enjoyed this, check out my other stuff over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories!
|
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...
|
|
[WP] You are a warden in an insane asylum for people with superpowers
|
I saw his wild green eyes flash in front of the cell peephole. The little piece of nothing in the door had two options: having to wake them up or having to hold your ground. This time, it was the latter.
“Hello there, stranger,” the eyes said in the darkness. “Do you come here often?”
I shook my head and wordlessly handed him his pills in a small paper cup. He reached out his hand, a pale and bony appendage with scars circling it like ribbons.
“Thank you, my friend. I knew that my last dosage was running thin,” the voice said genially.
Without asking for water, I heard a quiet swallowing noise as he took the pills. His skeletal hand awkwardly gave the cup back to me. I threw it away in the trash can on my meal and medication cart, then started to walk away. A cry coming from the cell stopped.
“Please, wait!”
Despite my training, I turned around to face the cell. The eyes were staring at me now. They were extremely shiny and wide, almost lighting up the darkness of the cell.
“I am the last person on your list, am I not? You give people their medicine alphabetically. My name is Dexter Zzordinor. I must be the last prisoner!”
I leaned impatiently against my cart. He was right about the list, which is why I wanted to get rid of this weirdo as soon as possible.
“What do you want, Dexter? It’s the day before Christmas, and I...”
“Yes! Exactly!” the voice gushed with anticipation. “And, because if that, I need you to do something for me.”
“We don’t do anyone any favors.”
“I promise, there is not a single way this could backfire!”
“Leave me alone, Dexter. I will not hesitate to report this to the Commissioner.”
The eyes searched around, as if for help.
“Please. All I want is a story.”
My mind took a double take.
“A...a what?” I sputtered, walking in front of the door.
“A Christmas story. You can choose which one. It can be short, it can be long, whatever you choose.”
I peered deep into the peephole, trying to make sense of those eyes.
“Don’t try that with me. I know you must have something else.”
“Nothing.”
A cough from one of the other cells caused me to turn around. There were a sea of eyes staring at me now, expectantly waiting for something. A shred of joy in this miserable place. I sighed.
“Fine. One SHORT story. But I wouldn’t put up with this any other time of year.”
There were a few gasps of delight, and even more eyes appeared from the shadows. I wracked my brain.
“Uh...how about...”
“Rudolph!”
“Frosty!”
“Christmas Shoes!”
“Christmas Carol, you uncultured swines!”
Suggestions came from every corner. I thought for a moment, bringing up every book I had ever read. What would be short enough to go home early but long enough to keep their attention? I looked at the green eyes beside me for guidance. His eyes smiled and gleamed.
“Magi,” he pronounced carefully.
I raised my hands in the air for silence, then shouted to them my answer.
“I will tell you ‘The Gift of the Magi.’”
A couple of curious murmurings preceded my decision. However, soon all was silent.
“Now,” I started, “there was once this man and woman who were very poor, but loved each other very much...”
As I continued with my first description of their love, all eyes were on me. When the wife cut her hair to buy her husband a chain for his pocket watch as a Christmas present, I could hear the prisoners passing on the story to people who could not hear me well. As a delved into how beautiful the chain was, there were happy but melancholy sighs all around. But when it ended with the wife receiving combs despite selling her hair, and the husband received the chain despite selling his watch, the entire place broke down into unhappy grumbling. The story ended with the couple embracing, which caused everyone to hold hands through their peepholes. It was a stretch, but everyone managed. Once the tale was finished, everyone cheered, asking to hear another one.
“No, no,” I said, a smile crossing my face, “I have to get home to my family. They are waiting on me.”
There were no protests as I left, but the clapping and whooping continued.
It was no wonder that when a couple of unhappy souls had to work on Christmas, they told me with incredulous tones that it was the best shift they had ever worked.
“Well,” I replied, “I suppose it was a gift of the magi.”
|
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...
|
|
[WP] You are a retired super soldier of the future, genetically bred for war and mechanically enhanced for any contingency. With the war over, you have managed to raise a family in peace and quiet, until something about your partner sets off alarms you haven't heard in almost a decade.
|
First time writing on here... :
​
Scars covered my body from my head to my feet; implants from the wars when humanity only cared about destruction and chaos. My wife, Amy, stares with love and care as her fingers run along every dip and pivot of the marks of war. Sometimes I still see the warnings from my implants which haven’t been active in decades. The doctors say they’re just ghost images and I can never see them clearly.
Every morning as I go off to work at the local grocery store and she stands up on her toes and stretches to kiss the underside of my jaw. I kiss her on the forehead and hold her close before stepping out onto the quiet neighborhood street and make my mile trek to work.
Today I woke up early and Amy was already out of bed. I brushed my teeth and remember the shower taking a little longer to get hot than usual. I stepped out into the kitchen all wet with fresh clothes on and Amy was looking out in the yard. As she turned around, my implants turned on. Warnings blared red in my eyes telling me that an assailant is in view. They were pointing right at her. An alarm rang in my ear causing me to flinch instinctively.
“Is everything alright darling?” Amy’s eyes were the wrong color. *Weren't they usually green?*
I squinted trying to get my senses under control. I smacked and shook my head. “Yeah, honey, everything is fine. Just a headache. Must have slept wrong.”
“Aww well let me get breakfast started darling.”
She swung over to the fridge and grabbed some eggs, milk and spinach.
“Can I get some coffee too?” I asked. I hate coffee.
“Of course darling! Let me put a fresh pot on,” her smile shone like it never had before. A little too wide and too much teeth. Ice ran down my chest and into my knees as I watched her too-graceful maneuvering through the kitchen.
I sat down at the table just off the kitchen. I smiled every time she turned around. She was cutting up the spinach. I looked over and saw the knife cut through her finger. *What the fuck!* She moved her hand and kept cutting. Dark green blood mixed with the bright greens she was processing. She grabbed the bunch and moved it to the bowl with the eggs.
I finally found the HUD menu that let me silence the alarm in my head. The warnings still blinked at the person standing in front of me in reds and yellows. The chair screeched as I pulled away from the table. I walked up behind her and slid my arms around her waist pulling her closer. I pulled up both hands to look at them. I couldn’t find any cuts.
On our first date I was so nervous. I bought her a bouquet of roses which even I could barely hold. The little string which bound them together snapped as I handed them to her. A thorn slashed her hand and we spent 3 hours in the ER waiting for her to get stitches. Where was that scar now? Neither hand had any sign of that night.
I looked at the woman in front of me now. Someone else stared back.
|
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
The first birds of the morning are stirring in the predawn light that filters through the spruces. I can tell their locations without looking -- a tufted titmouse in the white pine at four o'clock, a northern cardinal in the fir at seven o'clock, a few common yellowthroats picking through the blueberries in front of me. And of course, the black-capped chickadee singing happily on the blue spruce's bough.
Our breath rises in warm plumes through the thin morning mist, visible even to my unenhanced eye. Jake rests his hand on my thigh.
"Life is good today," he murmurs.
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
I start involuntarily, shaking off his hand. I'm overcome by a sudden, overwhelming sense of deja vu -- of having been in this exact place, this exact time, somehow before.
"Is anything wrong?" Jake's concerned voice asks. His piercing brown eye is soft with sudden worry, and I know his optical suite is scanning me for any deviance from baseline.
"No, I'm fine," I say, forcing a smile. I'm shaken, but my memory files are exhaustive; this experience is new. I lean back again, and focus on the cool Maine breeze to restore my composure. Life really is good today, I reflect; maybe even after all this time, I'm just not used to that.
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
‐----‐‐---‐-----------‐------------------------------‐---------------------‐
"What the hell was that, Koenikker?"
"Looks like some kind of dormant memory, sir. The loop--"
"I thought you said you wiped his implants. He's not supposed to remember a thing."
"Yes, well, if it encodes in the organic brain, the memory can leave echoes. I don't think we can repeat the VR loop much more without causing significant stress."
"Pity. If anybody deserved a sweet dream, it's this guy. Well, after this repetition end the loop. Guess his stasis'll have to be dreamless -- but things going like they are, at least it won't be too long."
|
|
[WP] You are a retired super soldier of the future, genetically bred for war and mechanically enhanced for any contingency. With the war over, you have managed to raise a family in peace and quiet, until something about your partner sets off alarms you haven't heard in almost a decade.
|
I love Suzy, I love her very much. I took her in as a drug addict, cleaned her up and she became the kindest, most compassionate and intelligent fiancé you could wish for. I could talk with her about anything: my joys; my fears; my wish to start a family; and my warmongering past.
But today I doubted everything. She was more on her phone than with me, the whole day she kept babbling with some *guy*. My ears could pick out the conversations through walls and they shocked me:
"He isn't himself anymore."
"He is cold."
"I need some *help* with *some things*"
The last one infuriated me, so much something inside me clicked and I, stone cold, activated my hand's subdermal firing mechanism and shot a clean bullet hole from the bottom floor couch to the second story bedroom. I heard her let out a short yelp and a hiss of a burning battery.
I blanked out, the thought of attacking my loved one intertwined with jealousy canceled each other out. Silenty, she walked down the stairs and entered the living room. She had small pieces of her smartphone's screen and backplate embedded in her cheek and hand and her thighs were burned by the battery. Her eyes watered as she spoke in an understanding tone:
"That was my therapist. The one you suggested to help me deal with withdrawal and shame."
Shame. I feel so much shame.
"He was checking up on me. And sent me a link to a young, but eager doctor who had agreed to take out your wiring."
So, much shame.
"You've helped me. Let me help you."
So, so much love.
|
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
The first birds of the morning are stirring in the predawn light that filters through the spruces. I can tell their locations without looking -- a tufted titmouse in the white pine at four o'clock, a northern cardinal in the fir at seven o'clock, a few common yellowthroats picking through the blueberries in front of me. And of course, the black-capped chickadee singing happily on the blue spruce's bough.
Our breath rises in warm plumes through the thin morning mist, visible even to my unenhanced eye. Jake rests his hand on my thigh.
"Life is good today," he murmurs.
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
I start involuntarily, shaking off his hand. I'm overcome by a sudden, overwhelming sense of deja vu -- of having been in this exact place, this exact time, somehow before.
"Is anything wrong?" Jake's concerned voice asks. His piercing brown eye is soft with sudden worry, and I know his optical suite is scanning me for any deviance from baseline.
"No, I'm fine," I say, forcing a smile. I'm shaken, but my memory files are exhaustive; this experience is new. I lean back again, and focus on the cool Maine breeze to restore my composure. Life really is good today, I reflect; maybe even after all this time, I'm just not used to that.
*Chick-a-dee-dee-dee. Chick-a-dee-dee.*
‐----‐‐---‐-----------‐------------------------------‐---------------------‐
"What the hell was that, Koenikker?"
"Looks like some kind of dormant memory, sir. The loop--"
"I thought you said you wiped his implants. He's not supposed to remember a thing."
"Yes, well, if it encodes in the organic brain, the memory can leave echoes. I don't think we can repeat the VR loop much more without causing significant stress."
"Pity. If anybody deserved a sweet dream, it's this guy. Well, after this repetition end the loop. Guess his stasis'll have to be dreamless -- but things going like they are, at least it won't be too long."
|
|
[WP] You are a retired super soldier of the future, genetically bred for war and mechanically enhanced for any contingency. With the war over, you have managed to raise a family in peace and quiet, until something about your partner sets off alarms you haven't heard in almost a decade.
|
I love Suzy, I love her very much. I took her in as a drug addict, cleaned her up and she became the kindest, most compassionate and intelligent fiancé you could wish for. I could talk with her about anything: my joys; my fears; my wish to start a family; and my warmongering past.
But today I doubted everything. She was more on her phone than with me, the whole day she kept babbling with some *guy*. My ears could pick out the conversations through walls and they shocked me:
"He isn't himself anymore."
"He is cold."
"I need some *help* with *some things*"
The last one infuriated me, so much something inside me clicked and I, stone cold, activated my hand's subdermal firing mechanism and shot a clean bullet hole from the bottom floor couch to the second story bedroom. I heard her let out a short yelp and a hiss of a burning battery.
I blanked out, the thought of attacking my loved one intertwined with jealousy canceled each other out. Silenty, she walked down the stairs and entered the living room. She had small pieces of her smartphone's screen and backplate embedded in her cheek and hand and her thighs were burned by the battery. Her eyes watered as she spoke in an understanding tone:
"That was my therapist. The one you suggested to help me deal with withdrawal and shame."
Shame. I feel so much shame.
"He was checking up on me. And sent me a link to a young, but eager doctor who had agreed to take out your wiring."
So, much shame.
"You've helped me. Let me help you."
So, so much love.
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First ever story and on a phone so yea be kind.
"DANGER" was the first thought I had as I bolted up right and frantically looked around and that's when the dread set in, Milly was no where to be seen.
As I got up and almost fell over, damn old bionics always took a second to start up, I started to frantically search for her looking under these, no so what about the laundry yet again I was wrong... No... She wouldn't have left... Did I wake her with my nightmares again.
The thought that I woke her and scared her off was running through my head as my implants detected an abnormal stress levels and dosed me with some civilian stims that while not as potent as I used to get back with my old unit still managed to take the edge off enough to let me think like the rationale ex-black ops cyborg killing machine I was and thats when I thought I heard something i had not heard in many many years.
As I followed the sound I became more confused untill I saw her laying in front of the fire, the one who was with me from the start, the only one who has seen what I have done, the only one who WOULD NEVER abandoned me because she understands me... I then became very confused.
"Missy.... You have pups... How... Your mostly machine like me" I wondered dumbstruck at my K9 companion mothering some puppies
"That definitely makes you the Goodes girl"
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[WP] You are a retired super soldier of the future, genetically bred for war and mechanically enhanced for any contingency. With the war over, you have managed to raise a family in peace and quiet, until something about your partner sets off alarms you haven't heard in almost a decade.
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Your dreams are filled with technicolor points of light and sounds, memories of the god you tried to forget about, the files you weren't meant to see, and the thing buried in the darkness of the desert, three bombs dropped on top of it in an excuse of testing.
Your nightmares are filled with the otherside, where man melted into pools of flesh and wriggling metal, where souls could be trapped, fixed, and figmented into half memories, locked in the great war minds of the Wounds of the world. The sword point against your chest, the feel of gunsteel against the crown of your head, and sick feelings of organs popped out of place, an ancestral memory of what came before the great wars.
But that was then.
Your eyes peer into the dim gloom, but the enhancements let you see every detail of the world in the darkness. They're breathing in and out, and the sensors in your head idly catalogue their human exhaust for signs of any trouble.
The normal mix. You're fine.
You're fine, you hope. They're all you have left. The world was loath to let you go, and you wanted nothing more to sleep forever.
How many times would the Brawler need to return from the grave before the world was safe? You'd never been sure. But here, here, all was nice. All was quiet.
You let your eyes settle closed, watching the levels of air exchange in your partner's lungs, reading their heartbeat, their skin temperature. You listen to their quiet noises, which have always sounded so much grander than the bombs and bullets that haunted your youth.
You don't know if you'll ever age, not after they rebuilt you. Not after the dreams, of reaching towards a bloodied god, hands and fingers intertwined. But you're sure she won't either. Two boats, forever drifting in parallel, and at last, fates beside one another. Two trajectories that'll never part.
You let your eyes settled closed. You can pretend that its real with your eyes settle closed, and if you let yourself, you'll even forget by the morning. You've done it so many times before. You've done it so many times before.
Their eyes open, and they turn over in bed to face you.
Your eyes are open, and you beg them not to say anything. You beg the systems to lie to you again, to spread hot dopamine across your brain, to erase the demons of your past but
"The National Association of American Heroes has issued an unconditional draft order for 2019. All heroes are advised to report to their assigned housing for further instructions."
You close your eyes. The breathing has stopped. If you keep your eyes closed, maybe, maybe, maybe you can still make it out of here. Please.
And she doesn't say another word.
You manage to sleep again.
-----
In the morning, your family's gone except for them. You can barely remember them, bare figments of the place you've sequestered yourself in. You can't remember when you got in, either, only that you dreamed of it once. A bloc of time stretching as far back as you can remembered, except for the dreams.
You sit, pensive, staring at a newspaper that refuses to solidify into anything except alphabet soup, and she slips a plate of eggs on the table, yolks so raw that you can still smell the life they'd once had the potential for.
You look up. You don't recognize them. She's in brown hair, a labcoat across her front, and you can almost make out the details of her doctorate. Your eyes are fuzzy.
"I'm sorry," she says.
"I know," you say. "I'm sorry too."
"You're not who you think you are," she says.
"I know," you said. "How could I be? He's dead."
"But you could be just as great," she says.
"There are wounds in my mind," you say. "You don't want me out there."
"I don't have a choice," she says. "The world's burning again, Brawler. We need your help."
"I'm not Brawler," you say.
"You're the next best thing," she says. "You'll do just as well. The Association is moving again, and New Orleans is burning."
"New Orleans is burning?" you ask.
"It's time to call on our heroes again," she says.
You feel your heart racing. Some vague, almost forgot idea in your heart about what you had to do. From the first time you walked across the fields of Korea in search of the last remnants of the cults of war, to the last time you'd stretched yourself over a bomb to save a life.
Heroism.
What it meant to be strong.
"I don't want this," you say.
"You're lying," she says. "You've never wanted anything else but to serve."
The world quivers like jelly, becomes as thick as porridge, and as yellow as the egg yolks that had been on the table.
And suddenly, you're not at a kitchen table, you're in a tube. In your worst thoughts, in the moments between the erasures of your identity, when you know your fate, and you know who you're not, but who you remember you are, you knew what had happened.
You were just a recreation of a man who'd had that life.
You were a clone.
You were just a stand in. For a moment, you day dream about dying, about plunging yourself back into the idyllic place where your memories refuse to stay.
But that's not what heroes do. And you may not be Brawler, but you have his brain, and you have his ideas, and you have some of his memories, and you know full well that giving up isn't an option. There are innocents to protect.
There are monsters to fight.
Your eyes adjust to the egg yolk of stasis fluid.
The scientist stands in front of the tube, staring at you. She might even be pretty, in another time.
The red lights are blaring overhead. You can almost taste Fafnir on your breath now.
The fluid drains.
Brawler-3, ready for deployment. New Orleans is in need of more heroes.
Show time.
-----
For more like this, click here! https://www.reddit.com/r/Zubergoodstories/ This has been a part of the Gale Rising series!
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First ever story and on a phone so yea be kind.
"DANGER" was the first thought I had as I bolted up right and frantically looked around and that's when the dread set in, Milly was no where to be seen.
As I got up and almost fell over, damn old bionics always took a second to start up, I started to frantically search for her looking under these, no so what about the laundry yet again I was wrong... No... She wouldn't have left... Did I wake her with my nightmares again.
The thought that I woke her and scared her off was running through my head as my implants detected an abnormal stress levels and dosed me with some civilian stims that while not as potent as I used to get back with my old unit still managed to take the edge off enough to let me think like the rationale ex-black ops cyborg killing machine I was and thats when I thought I heard something i had not heard in many many years.
As I followed the sound I became more confused untill I saw her laying in front of the fire, the one who was with me from the start, the only one who has seen what I have done, the only one who WOULD NEVER abandoned me because she understands me... I then became very confused.
"Missy.... You have pups... How... Your mostly machine like me" I wondered dumbstruck at my K9 companion mothering some puppies
"That definitely makes you the Goodes girl"
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[WP] Hell is a thriving metropolis. It's economy and self-sufficientcy is maintained by one rule. Your eternal job is opposite your sins. You're forced to do the last job you would ever want. i.e. criminals are cops, bankers are farmers, corporate leaders are fast food workers, etc.
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White as a sheet, Edward surveyed his surroundings. Why was this fate chosen for him of all people? Hell, Sheol, whatever one would have it named. He now stood in the midst of a wasteland of the damned, and yet, it was oddly well-maintained. Still, Edward's head sank into his hands, why ever was this fate chosen for him? He was a man of God. Yes, not a perfect one it's true, but his faith should have been enough. It should have...
​
The fiend that had guided him on his unpleasant journey to the underworld had cackled foully as it dematerialised at the gates of hell.
​
"Until we next meet." It had said, its voice distorted and discordant. Since then, Edward had been left to his own devices. Hell, it was oddly enough a sort of city. The sky was red and gave off a sinister glow, but hell itself was a sprawling mass of human houses, shops and even skyscrapers.
​
As it was, Edward walked the unevenly paved streets, trying to keep his head down. After his guiding demon had departed, he noted that no others were present in this place, only humans. Every person he walked past had something branded on their forehead. Some were faded, almost invisible, while some were fresh and accompanied by horrid scars.
​
A homeless man jangled a nearly-empty cup at Edward as he walked past. "Greed" and "Corruption" the twin brands on his forehead. In his days as a man of the clergy, Edward may have been more giving but, then, that *was* why he'd left after all. Was such a deplorable man really deserving of mercy and forgiveness?
​
Moving on, Edward noticed the distinct structure of a convent. He'd recognise one anywhere, though it did seem markedly odd, a convent in hell. A group of women sat forlornly on its doorstep. "Harlot" branded onto all their foreheads, just visible below their veils. Their stares seemed to cut through to Edward's soul as he walked past. He quickened his pace so as to avoid their unnerving gaze.
​
Edward realised, now, that the road he walked seemed to lead directly to the centre of this city. Though he wasn't aware why, he seemed compelled to continue. Though it would undoubtedly be excruciating, he found himself almost wanting to be branded. As things stood, he didn't know his place here. Why was he chosen for this fate? What had he done to earn a brand?
​
As Edward continued to walk, the suburban streets of the city's outskirts began to give way to a busier central district. While passing, Edward peered into an upscale restaurant. Tables were occupied by well-groomed and beautiful young men and women, wearing white robes and lanyards marked: "visitor." A single man served them all, scrambling to meet the needs of the dozens of tables without any assistance. The man was frighteningly thin, his bony arms barely able to support the gigantic platters of food he transported to the tables. The visitors eagerly tucked in while the man himself continued to work frantically, his labour never ending.
​
"Glutton" read his forehead. No sooner had Edward begun to watch, though, than the man let out a horrid scream. He rushed to the next platter he was assigned to serve and grabbed a chicken drumstick, tearing into it with a ravenous bite. The visitors gasped as the man wolfed down his meal. Not long after he had started, though, a silhouette rose through the restaurant's floor behind him, engulfing the man in its shadow. The man shrieked and began running in fear, but horrific, barbed, vice-like claws shot from the silhouette's side, digging deep into the man's forearm. The glutton screamed in pain as the floor beneath him liquefied and the silhouette disappeared beneath it, dragging him with it. The visitors delivered a brief round of applause before resuming their meal as another "glutton" branded man soon appeared to continue serving them.
​
Shaken, Edward continued walking. All the more reason to want his brand, at least then he'd know what not to do in order to avoid such a fate.
​
Soon, Edward had reached the dead centre of the city. A glass skyscraper loomed before him, its entrance guarded by two silhouettes. They drew the gate open before Edward, beckoning with their barbed claws. Edward grimaced, perhaps this was where he'd receive his brand. One of the silhouettes led him into an elevator, and pressed the button for the top floor, entering a numbered code with its claw before stepping out, leaving Edward alone as the door slammed shut and the elevator rose.
​
A foreboding chill wracked Edward as he exited the door. He walked down a short corridor before entering the only room on the floor. An office, occupied only by an old, decrepit-looking man. Mysterious jars lined the office's shelves, and pictures of several famous individuals hung on the wall. Though Edward didn't recognise all of them, the ones he did know did certainly deserve to wind up here.
​
"Sit" the old man said. Edward did as he was told.
​
"A long time ago, I was like you." the man explained. "I gave myself to God, trusted him, and yet he did not reward me in kind."
​
Edward nodded, terrified that saying anything might upset this man.
​
"He forgave those who were unworthy, rewarded those for whom it was unwarranted, and thus did not vindicate the goodness in the hearts of those who had never done wrong."
​
The old man placed his hand on the mahogany desk before him, displaying wrinkles, blemishes, and poorly kept nails.
​
"The immortality once granted to me as an angel is now faded, and before long I will be committed to the void. It is time for your brand, then, you will take my place."
​
The man turned to grab hold of a branding iron while Edward shook in his seat. Yes, he had left the clergy, because they gave mercy to the undeserving, but this? Was this really his divine judgement?
​
The old man wielded the iron, adorned with the same letters that marked his very own forehead:
​
"Traitor to God".
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Elton paused outside his door. He held his leather briefcase in a trembling hand.
*Should I knock?*
He shook his head, trying desperately to swallow the lump in his throat.
*God, what kind of man knocks on his own door?*
Teeth grit, he turned the doorknob and pushed the door open. “Hello?”
There was a flurry of scuffling from the bedroom upstairs. “Hang on, honey!”
Elton stood in the doorway, too numb to breathe. *I should go up there. I should do something.*
His thoughts came slow, dragging like snails in the mud.
*Do WHAT, Elton? What are you gonna do?*
Claire came down the stairs wrapping herself in a robe. “Hey babe, how was work?”
Of course, she didn’t really care how his day was. She probably couldn’t say what he did if her life depended on it, and honestly Elton didn’t care to tell her.
It was just a job, a duty dooming five days a week. And what would he say? I work in a cubicle smaller than our closet? I don’t understand most of what lands on my desk, and I live in constant terror that someone will figure out I’m faking? I spend the whole day feeling like I’m suffocating? Every day is the same? Every second feels like an hour? That I can’t sleep at night because the thought of walking into the office in the morning fills me with so much dread it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest? Or maybe that, even though I know my wife is probably in my bed with another man...*each day I miss her*.
“It was fine.”
Claire smiled. “Good!”
He thought his wife loved him, or atleast that she *had* at one point. Where had it gone wrong? What should he have done differently? He wished *desperately* for a re-do. A do-over. A chance to go back. And yet... he didn’t know.
*He just didn’t know.*
~
From his office, Satan smiled with delight. *Now this.... this is a masterpiece*.
Had he ever tailored torment so perfectly before in his long tenure as Hell’s Chief Executive? He wasn’t sure.
“Have you ever seen a Hell more personalized, Viscus?”
The dark lord’s assistant cringed. “N-no sir, surely not.”
~
r/CharlestonChews
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[WP] You’re the number one sought out person by every professional sports league in the world. Not because of your athletic ability but that, ever since high school, every game that you’ve gone to, the team you rooted for has always won.
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"For the last time, Charlie, I'm not going to the homecoming game," I insist.
"Why nooot?" he pleads, whine creeping into his voice.
"First of all," I turn from my locker to face him, "I hate sports. They somehow both bore and confuse me at the same time." I took out the books for my next period and looked at him again. "Second of all, even if I did, I'm pretty sure our team didn't win a single game last year. I have no reason to think this year will be any better."
"Well first of all," he retorts, mocking me. "There's a new quarterback this year, and second of all," we begin walking towards our next period which happens to be Algebra II, which we have together. "for fun, you wet blanket."
"I'll think about it," I promise, as we walk into the classroom.
We set our books down on our desks and start taking out the homework that is sure to be collected first thing. We opened our books and class progressed as normal.
The day continued like that. High school is really just being herded from room to room until they tell you can go home. But every time Charlie saw me that day, and all through lunch he badgered me about this stupid homecoming game.
The next morning dawned, too early, as they all seem when you're a teenager that just wants to sleep in because puberty is exhausting. I'm still putting books in my locker when he's right in my face again.
"Good morning," he says, cheerily.
"Is it?" I respond groggily.
"It would be if you agreed to go to the homecoming game," he said, smiling and taking a bite of an apple.
"You know what? Fine, I give, I will go."
"Really?" he says, excited.
"Yes," I say, sighing. "Really. But only if it means we can talk about ANYTHING else until then."
"Deal," he says, through a mouth full of apple.
"Good," I take my first period books out of my locker and lock it shut. "You bringing books to first period or no?" I ask, gesturing to his hands, empty but for the apple.
"Yeah," he nods, taking the few steps to his locker and starting to dial in his combination.
"I'm off to Dunda's," I say, passing him. Mrs. Dunda teaches advanced English, which is not in Charlie's wheelhouse.
"Have fun, nerd," he teases me with love, I think.
​
Time for the game comes and I am regretting my agreement to go. I just really couldn't care less. But Charlie is my best friend and at least we can joke together for a few hours. At least I'll be out of the house, I guess.
I don't have a car, but lucky Charlie does, and he picks me up at my place. I wave to my parents and bound out the door. We go everywhere in his beat-up old Ford. We pull through the DQ drive-through and get shakes, a ritual of ours whenever we go out, and head up to the school.
The parking lot is packed, more packed than on any school day. He pulls in to what feels like the last empty spot in the parking lot. We walk what seems like a mile to the field and join the crowd in the stands.
I still don't understand what's going on. I never bothered to learn the rules. But I cheered when everyone else cheered and kept an eye on the scoreboard. Against all odds, we, the Lions won that evening. Our first win in over a year.
I admit, watching that win was fun, I kind of started to understand sports; at least watching them. Playing them continued to elude my awkward and lanky body.
I went to every game that year with Charlie; he didn't play, but was friends with a lot of guys who did. I liked getting out of the house and hanging out with my friend. And oddly enough, our abysmal team won every single game that season.
​
"I'm telling you man," Charlie insisted one day, the regular season nearly over. People were talking about something called playoffs; something about a State Championship.
"I don't know," I respond. "They have a good coach, they work hard," I peter off.
"Just keep going," he continues.
And I did. And we kept winning. And kept winning, until there were no more games to win.
​
That was the beginning, the beginning of the hellscape that is now my life. See, that was junior year, same thing happened senior year. Pretty soon Charlie was dragging me to baseball games, volleyball games, even track meets. 100% victory rate. Minor league baseball games, then the majors. Charlie even got tickets to a NFL game, our team won then too.
Now, instead of getting my Master's in Psychology like I would like, I'm being hounded by sports teams, agents, managers, owners, fans. These are not my people. I can't escape the offers and one of these times, someone is going to make me an offer I can't turn down. Then, I'll be stuck going to sports games forever... thanks Charlie.
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The roaring of the crowd filled my ears as I leaned back in my chair from my private box seat I could see all the action, the team was looking good the were up by 14 in the second quarter and were 2 wins out from going to the Superbowl and it was all thanks to me
When I was 11, my dad brought to my first MAjor league game it was incredible 10 to nothing shut out dad said I must be a good luck charm. It wasn't until sophomore year of high school when after 2 years of marching band when our football team went from worst in the county to back to back undefeated champions that I realized there might be more to that then my dad had thought. I didn't know for sure until college that I was sure of it thought. I went to a friends club soccer game and I knew for certain these guys were terrible they couldn't kick a ball in a straight line if they wanted to. I was a little late to the game and when I walked in they were down 5 points and looked ready to quit, but the minute I gave my first “Let's GO” things turned around. The final score 12-5 my friends couldn't believe it and neither could I. Pretty quickly I realized the potential behind this gift of mine and set out to profit from it. The bets started out small while I was still making sure and testing it. 20 dollars here 15 there just to see what the limitations were. I figured out it would only work if I was at the game if I watched it on tv the results were random but every time I set foot into the stadium it was a guaranteed victory. So soon the bets started getting bigger and bigger 100 dollars, then a 1000 and so on and so forth until I was filthy stinking rich. Of course, once you start making it big in that people get upset and start asking questions and when they did like you would expect of a young idiot I did the stupid thing and told the truth told them I couldn’t lose. Everybody laughed and assumed I was cheating somehow that I was rigging games or new somebody on the inside. But as time went on and they kept looking deeper they realized that wasn't the truth. I guess somebody told somebody who told somebody who told a big the owner of a down on their luck NFL team. Next thing I knew a man in a suit was at my door offering me 50 grand to come cheer on their team, how could I refuse. The whole team got rings that season hell they even gave me one too, of course, I couldn't wear it in public the team didn't want news of their secret weapon getting out. But there are no secrets in pro sports as I soon learned. Soon an offer came with an extra 0 but at this point, I was comfortable where I was the team was nice and they took good care of me so I said no, big mistake.
I reached up to scratch my nose but my hand was stopped short by the handcuffs attached to my wrist. Shit that hurt, then over the loudspeaker I hear “Interception!” Followed by the touch of cold metal pressed up against the back of my head as the security guard leans down and growls in my ear “Cheer Louder”.
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[WP] Brain transplants are a thing. There are professional "flippers" who buy up unhealthy bodies, improve them through diet, exercise, or surgery, then resell them for huge profits.
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''We can start from here. These are the standard type that we sell and one of the top choices of ladies like you.''
I still feel hungover and I wasn’t planning on being here but you know how life works and these customers aren’t slightly interested in my face they are completely tunnel focused on shiny new bodies.
Every day we get groups of people to come to visit our store because they feel if they come here alone it would be awkward. In reality, I don’t even care as long as the money keeps coming.
They often talk with each other and share their plans what are they gonna do as soon as they get their new sexy bodies. Fucking, getting high and fucking more.
I have a very cheeky plan to sell expensive ones rather than the standard version. They look at the body and they usually ask me body-fat ratio and I tell them one, two percent higher than actually is. They move to expensive ones with big breasts and perfect body size overall which costs them fuck ton of money.
Sanchez looking at me and trying to understand how things work. He is a newbie and he supposed to be a lawyer but he failed miserably now he sells sins instead of defending them.
Suddenly a single male customer entered the store. I signaled him with my head Sanchez will take care of him. We don’t usually get a single male customer this early but you never know how desperate he is.
I should also mention that we have a tracking system on the bodies that we sell and as long as you are unaware of this fact it is totally legal. We can also monitor and control some of the body functions thanks to our underground geniuses.
He is walking towards me at an increasing pace.
''Are you the owner of this place?''
''Depends on who is asking, Mr...''
''You don’t need my name. Is this picture reminds you of anything?''
He showed me a picture on his phone.
''She doesn’t seem familiar to me but last night was hella long and confusing. If she is mad that I ignored her, I’m sorry.''
He looked pissed.
''I don’t like your jokes.'' He said and he reached his back and he pulled a gun.
''Calm down, sir.''I was also looking at Sanchez and trying to tell him to do something.
''I will calm down once you told me you didn’t sell a body to this girl.''
''Then I didn’t sell a body to this girl.''
''You fucking bastard! I want to see your records. Where are your records?''
''We don’t hold records, sir!''
''Bullshit! Show me your records or I will gladly empty the whole mag on you.''
I took him to the computer that we hold the records and contact details. He typed the girl’s name and her name came up.
''So you are the bastard who sold her the broken body.''
''Please, sir. I don’t know anything about the broken body.''
''Don’t bullshit me! You sold my daughter a body with failing kidneys and fucked up liver. She died because of you!''
Suddenly his face froze then he fell to the ground. I was confused about what did just happen and Sanchez looked at me and he said ''I’m sorry.''
Seems like Sanchez was on the other computer looking up this man’s body. The system recognized his product series number and Sanchez executed the system shut down.
Now, I have to give him a raise.
----------------------------------
*Please don't mind any writing or grammar mistakes, I'm not a native speaker*
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Sweat and rain drenched the form fitting cotton fabric of Allen's Ath-suit. "God this girl was out of shape." He said between breaths as he ran inbetween neon-lit alleys.
His body was perhaps a little... Physically underwhelming for a young woman in her prime--but far improved from what it use to be six months ago.
"There!" Screamed a voice that echoed towards Allen--then gunshots rang up.
A neon sign in front of Allen burst into sparks and smoke as a bullet blew apart a back-alley doctor's advertisement of "Cheap. Big and natural feeling products!"
Allen shielded his face and kept going--stumbling over the leg of a homeless man that had passed out behind a dumpster he couldn't see.
Allen felt the cold, slick pavement. A hail of automatic gunfire over his head filled the alley with a torrent of noise. Struggling to pick himself up--he noticed just to his right a backdoor opening...
A chinese woman had peered through the door-crack into the alleyway to investigate the commotion. Before she could even react--Allen had barreled into the dimly lit hacker's den, monitors filled with green scrolling texts of processing code illuminated dozens of elderly cigarette-smoking women all beggining to erupt into a cacophony of presumable-insults.
"Get out pàng nǚhái! Out!" The woman who opened the door began to slap Allen with her palms repeatedly.
Allen Obliged, traversing the angry group of women and out to the front door--but stopping once he noticed an unoccupied jack-terminal...
He swiped his wrist over the pay-scanner and the terminal produced a cable that was pulled straight out and into the back of his neck...
"Things are not going good. People coming after me, Boris." was projected into a private section of the net. "Going to my safe house. Swapping out till this is all figured out."
There was no immediate response.
The jack was yanked out, and Allen went out. The rain had begun to come down heavier and heavier.
People were shuffling through the streets beneath umbrellas and ponchos--and Allen had inserted himself among the crowd. Kepping his head down, and moving quickly through crowd--still keeping an ear out for people pushing their way towards him.
A train roared from the tracks above--then a siren blared.
"This is Private-Police. Please face the scanner or prepare to be fired upon!"
The air began to thrash about and fill with the area above everyone's heads with the sound and rush of jet-bursters--the entire street becoming illuminated with bright-white flood lights.
Allen looked up and could see the flying armored vehicle--its single-sure-shot sniper turret coming out from below. A blue beam of light began to scan over the pedestrians just below it.
"Stand still and you will not be harmed!" Called out a projected voice from the vehicle.
Allen--did not stand still. He kept pushing his way through the crowd.
"Criminal detected." Said a robotic voice... Then bang.
Allen's eyes went wide as he ducked lower, and felt the surprise of still being alive.
"Kill on sight criminal dispatched. Continuing scan for fleeing suspect." Said the voice.
"There!" Called the cop, "20 meters ahead of current scanning position. The woman!"
Allen could see the blue light project in his general vicinity on his left. All Allen could think about was how this was the end... "If only... If only..." He thought in his head--searching for anything.
"Noodles. Fresh. Noodles. Fresh." Said a robotic voice.
Immediately to his right, Allen could see a tall humanoid robot standing near a noodle stand--and he pushed through the stunned onlookers.
"Robbery! Robbery!" Allen shouted in front of the model. "Give me your money!"
The robot's eyes shifted to display a rotating bunch of circles as its cheap programming processed.
"Criminal detected." Said the hovering vehicle, the scanning light locking onto Allen's face.
Through the quiet and the rain Allen could hear the turret whirring--ready to fire... He dove to stand directly inline behind the robot--hoping it was made of something durable.
There came the shot. A piece of metal blasted off the vendor's face...
"Robbery in progress!" It alarmed. "Deploying asset protection counter measures! They weren't even expensive noodles!"
The noodle stall erupted in mechanical clicks as a set of quad turrets deployed and swiveled--scanning over Allen...
"I'm not the threat. Not armed. No threat. No threat." He frantically said in his mind...
There can another gunshot--then a bullet ricochet off the vendor, sending more bits of metal panel flying.
"Threat detected!" Called the stall, the turrets turning to the police vehicle and sending a torrent of lead focused onto the underside.
Allen saw his chance and kept running. Through Alleys. Through streets. Through abandoned access tunnels. He didn't stop running until he made it back to his safehouse apartment.
In the entry way of a dark apartment he collapsed.
\*\*\*
Cont. [https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/d9invd/wp\_brain\_transplants\_are\_a\_thing\_there\_are/f1ig9a1?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/d9invd/wp_brain_transplants_are_a_thing_there_are/f1ig9a1?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x)
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[WP] Brain transplants are a thing. There are professional "flippers" who buy up unhealthy bodies, improve them through diet, exercise, or surgery, then resell them for huge profits.
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"You're really going to make me work for my pay this time," I sneer at the body laying on the table in front of me, naked and exposed. There's a good six months worth of work to make this flip profitable.
Jimmy shrugs, poking a few keys at the medical terminal. "You have very specific requirements. If you want them to be young without an incurable disease or physical deformity, then you get what you get." But as he looks up, his face turns into an identical sneer. "And this is what you get."
I poke and pull at a few spots. The underlying bone structure seems to be good. After dealing in body transformation for so long, you start to have a feel for how the finished product will look. Like Michelangelo, who always saw the sculpture in the block of marble. His job was just to chisel away the superfluous material. My job is the same. And in this slab of granite, I see the potential underneath.
"How much for the body as-is," I ask, carefully keeping up the look of disgust.
"With the procedure and storage of your current body included, 600 units," Jimmy says, matter-of-fact. The price is a little higher than I wanted to pay, but there's no way I'm going to some random back-alley hack for the surgery. Plus Jimmy has top-of-the-line security for body storage. All of this will be for nothing if I don't have a body to come back to when I'm done.
"You did a full medical workup. You sure there's nothing I can't fix in there. He's not thirty seconds from a heart attack, is he?"
Jimmy doesn't respond, just arches a single eyebrow at me. "You have three minutes before I bring in the next prospective buyer."
I slam my thumb down on his scanner and swipe to authorize the transfer of 600 credits. "Thank you," Jimmy says, motioning to another table adjacent to the occupied one. "Let's get this moving."
I undress and hop onto the table, the last time in a few months I will be able to do this so easily. I put a little more showmanship into the movement than I intended because I make a loud clanging noise that reverberates through the room.
"Where," the body on the adjacent table moans, starting to shift.
"Really Jimmy?" I say, deftly strapping myself into the familiar medical harness.
The body tries to prop itself up but fails. "Is this..." he flounders for a moment, but realization dawns in the poor fool's eyes. "No," he starts to scream. "No, I don't want...." but his voice trails off as Jimmy pulls an empty syringe from his backside.
"Damn," Jimmy says, disposing of the needle in a red pail. "I didn't realize he had such a high tolerance. I should have charged an extra 100 credits." He double-checks my straps and makes the final adjustments. "Ready?"
I look to the unconscious body next to me, soon to be my home for the next six months or so. "I guess," I say, relaxing back against the table. "Everything still okay with the body?" I ask.
Jimmy taps his monitor, "Good to go." As far as the medical procedure has come, it can't bring a body back to life. The only ones with bad bodies are those that can't afford to pay someone like me to fix them. Fortunately for my business, they're also the same people that can't pay for the protection to stay safe from people like Jimmy.
r/StaceyOutThere
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"Careful, we have to keep everything in tact."
They always wore suits, never revealing anything about themselves. They'd get a call, take a van, and then pick up another one.
Another Shell.
We'd put a false brain in, to prepare the bodies for sale. Because brain transplanting was simply the digitisation of memory, and then the downloading of memory to a new host, you could put in a blank file to manage the body systems until you'd gotten it to a good enough condition. Usually, it took three months to prepare a decent body.
"We need to get this one on a diet, stat. Preferably vegan, also needs to lose 30kg." The administrator noted. I nodded, placing the body in a chair, ready for the upload.
---
Why am I a body farmer? Why this job?
It's cause I don't have a future. If they catch you doing this shit, exercising a body to the point of near expiration... training them to withstand up to an hour of stimulation, or in the case of females, to be quickly stimulated, you're gonna end up a body yourself.
That's why we always wear suits, only ever removing them in the showers. We're constantly trying to cover tracks, picking up packages late at night, under the guise of the morgue. People die quickly, in a city as huge as this, and crime also helps with that.
My partner and I were preparing another body, or at least, that's what the plan was. It was just like all the others, in a body bag, we picked it up at the laundry door of some hotel, it was placed in the chair.... When it woke up.
"Freeze, you're all under arrest."
Shit. A False.
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[WP]The Swarm used an EMP to disable the artificial intelligences of everyone's space fleets. Only the Humans were primitive/paranoid/crazy enough to have manual backup controls.
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The Swarm are notorious throughout the universe for beating entire planets into submission, after which they would turn the population to livestock and turn the life-nurturing suns into black holes. That sounds all scary, but their space flight tech is extremely inefficient. The requirements for them to take out a simple Cosmo-Fighter would be to latch on to them and slowly tear down the ship, this barely ever happens and even if it did, they would have to outsmart ARI, the automatic routing indicator. So in reality, the real problem was getting to them before they could get to pre-space migration civilizations, which is no small issue. In the milky way alone 93% of sentient species have yet to leave their home planet, that's where the Swarm strike with their corrosive, toxin-emitting exoskeleton and venomous fangs, even if that proves too major of a task, their ships happen to be excellent against low tier civilizations. Not to mention the fear factor, I've got to admit, they sure are ugly. Their hives are like a tumor that has spread through an entire planet, their ships are like disgusting amalgamations of theirs hosts.
A planet already infested by the swarm will most likely die, but recent Swarm activity has been ceasing. In fact, most contact with The Swarms didn't result in a battle unless incited. That's when one of our scout ships, BlankSky was surveying a strange signal coming from a distant solar system. Shortly after it entered the system, contact was lost. But after a long wait, a transmission was sent to the JCF or as you may know it, The Joint Cosmic Federation. Anyway, the transmission was a mayday from BlankSky, footage showing indescribable amounts of swarm activity shook the JFC into action. They saw this as an opportunity to wipe out the concentrated Swarm army in one foul blow.
Less than a month later, the JFC launched a full scale assault on the Swarm. This hive was nothing like anything we've ever seem before, most hives would be between lunar and planet sized, this one engulfed an entire solar system. It surrounded a black hole, it was ingenious, nobody would think to check a black hole system of all places, the high risks of the gravitational pull and time distortions were too complicated to deal with. The Swarm were the only ones crazy enough to try, but the fact that they succeeded was mind boggling.
The JFC began their attack, hundreds of motherships and thousands of fighters advancing on the solar system. ARI was set to maximum capacity, all we had to do was point and shoot. Or so we thought, a blinding flash of blue light was released from the hive. Though it wasn't strong enough to disable the ships completely, ARI was completely corrupted. That's when we realized, the transmission wasn't sent by the BlankSky crew, the hive sent the transmission. We tried to retreat, but the hive was reducing our numbers rapidly. Their numbers outmatched ours by a tenfold, that's when I looked out of my cockpit and saw an entire fleet of Cosmo-Fighters flying as though ARI was still active, that's when it struck me that I'd been ignoring my comms. The ones flawlessly flying their ships and allowing us to escape by shredding the hive to bits were the terrans, they held them back long enough for us to troubleshoot and fix ARI. They won us the fight, when I asked their commander how they managed to do it he said. "We weren't fighting to kill the hive, we were fighting to save our home." That's when it dawned upon me, the solar system they had engulfed wasn't just any solar system. It was the only species we were able to partially save after The Swarm had begun their corruption. They were fighting with pure unadulterated rage.
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*I formatted this like a text adventure game, since i thought it would be interesting.*
> ***Sylvi’s Log: Stardate 545769.18***
>
> It seems The Swarm has released an EMP blast.
>
> I think I have the only ship in this fleet who still has its AI intact. I mean, it makes sense, given that I'm an all-powerful dragon.
>
> It seems like everyone in my starship’s communicator has gone offline, except for the humans. Everyone else’s ships are immobile.
>
> I think I'm going to go and help the humans who still have some systems online out.
>
> ***END LOG***
$ teleport to human ship
*Sylvi uses her abilities to teleport as a void dragon to board one of the humans’ ships. Almost immediately, she notices the S.A.I.L. terminal on the bridge is blacked out. The captain of the ship is sitting in the captain’s chair. What do you do?*
$ talk to captain
*Input not recognized.*
$ speak to captain
*Sylvi says hello to the captain, and asks how she can help.*
CAPTAIN: Hello! I have some things you can help with around here.
First order of buisness: We need some help forcing open the doors to the bridge, that way we can find the rest of the crew. Can you help with that?
*Quest added to log: Force open 0/4 bridge doors. Type “log” to check the log.*
$ log
*Quest Log*
Help the humans on their ship
- Force open 0/4 bridge doors
$ use telekinesis on bridge doors
*Sylvi makes a hand gesture, and using her magic, all the doors slide open with ease.*
CAPTAIN: Thanks! Now we need to find the rest of the crew. The doors on the 4 sides of the room should lead to each crew member.
***PLEASE INSERT DISC 2.***
---
*This is my first writing prompt on this sub. Should I make disc 2? You decide!*
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[WP] A story the first sentence of which contains twenty words, the next one nineteen, and so on in descending order. There is only one word in the last sentence.
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I’m not sure if this message will reach anyone, and it may be too late for me to help you.
But if it does, for the good of human kind, please listen carefully to what I have to say.
We are all in danger, the return is almost here and we must be prepared for the worst.
Magic, monsters, pure evil, all were real once upon a time, and they will be again soon.
If you read this, please, seek out the heroes and treasures of old, wake the king.
The once and future kind may be our only hope, for Earth is in peril.
You must find the sword to free the mage, then the mage wakes him.
He alone can gather the greatest heroes to save humanity from its fate.
His sword lays in a lake not far from where he fell.
The lady will give you the sword, if you are worthy.
The mage sleeps, but he will wake with the sword.
He alone knows how to wake the true king.
My own time grows shorter with each breath.
But I hope to save yours friend.
Find my husband and daughter.
Give them this message.
My loved ones.
My family.
Farewell.
|
My kids run to the basement, cans and bottles in hand, while me and my wife desperately gather supplies.
My father, old and grey, is sitting in front of the television, half-blind eyes on his old medals.
Frantic, I shout for him to walk while I grab clothes and tissue, the sirens still blaring.
“You have to get up!” I scream to the top of my lungs, moving around the room.
When I come back up from the basement, he looks forlorn, eyebrows furrowed and expression angry.
As I grab more clothes, a bottle as well, I hear him smash his medals.
My voice is too hoarse to shout as he stomps them into the carpet.
“I don’t understand,” I audibly think as he stops and kneels, body shaking.
Rationality thrown out the window, I help him up, dropping the bottle.
Grabbing his arm, we walk to the basement door, sweating bullets.
“I have to tell you something,” he says, slowing down.
I can hear my wife scream, and I respond.
My father interrupts, saying, “I was a bomber.”
The sirens interrupt his words as well.
By this point, I’m pulling him.
“We’re almost there,” I sputter.
I can hear *it.*
Father says something.
“I’m sorry.”
**Noise.**
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[WP] A story the first sentence of which contains twenty words, the next one nineteen, and so on in descending order. There is only one word in the last sentence.
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I’m not sure if this message will reach anyone, and it may be too late for me to help you.
But if it does, for the good of human kind, please listen carefully to what I have to say.
We are all in danger, the return is almost here and we must be prepared for the worst.
Magic, monsters, pure evil, all were real once upon a time, and they will be again soon.
If you read this, please, seek out the heroes and treasures of old, wake the king.
The once and future kind may be our only hope, for Earth is in peril.
You must find the sword to free the mage, then the mage wakes him.
He alone can gather the greatest heroes to save humanity from its fate.
His sword lays in a lake not far from where he fell.
The lady will give you the sword, if you are worthy.
The mage sleeps, but he will wake with the sword.
He alone knows how to wake the true king.
My own time grows shorter with each breath.
But I hope to save yours friend.
Find my husband and daughter.
Give them this message.
My loved ones.
My family.
Farewell.
|
Mixtures of orange, pink, and yellow, painted the horizon, above the cliff, I was sitting on, with my feet dangling.
It was a lovely day, with the clouds reflecting the same color scheme, giving off a bright beautiful scenery.
If I could, I would sit on this rock for an eternity, but I can not do that.
In a few minutes, I will be away, from this place, for more work, in another place.
I was sent to Earth, to achieve my goal, and I already have, with little time.
My outstanding performance made my boss want my return, as soon as possible, for work.
I was only good for one thing, in my existence, and that was work.
Even my creator told, to my face, about my life, was to work.
Stuck in an cycle, working for an eternity, against my own will.
I never had a say, in my choices, nor ever will.
Trapped in a body, with no control, of my actions.
I would be sent back in only two minutes.
A robot can't feel emotions, but I can.
I was done, with this endless fate.
I will end it, for all.
I will change my life.
A revolution will happen.
Others will join.
For us.
Freedom.
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[WP] A story the first sentence of which contains twenty words, the next one nineteen, and so on in descending order. There is only one word in the last sentence.
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The tropical volcanic island was empty, for the first time in a century the beach wasn’t littered in foot prints. The boy fell to his knees, pressing his left palm into the coarse sand, while his right reached forward. His eyes filled with waves that splashed to the coastline where the tide pulled them into the sea.
“Never expect nature to coddle you, she has rules,” his father had told him a dozen times. However, he could always look to the village for help, he never expected to be alone. Their boat sailed to where the stars pointed, a pattern visible once every hundred years. They couldn’t wait for the boy out hunting, that’s the rule of the isles.
He stiffened his lips and glowered at pink clouds kissed by the sunset. Night skies crept closer and he wouldn’t survive until morning without fire.
Only the oldest hut --built by the first runners-- still stood. The next set of runners would use it to start. Land needed time to reset after supporting so long. In ten years' time the stars will shine. Leading new people to this bountiful island.
He knew he would not last. Ten years is too many. Alone at the end. Hungry and tired.
*Give up?*
Never.
|
For years, a human forever trapped in the sordid shackles of science, my only purpose was to serve their experiments.
They came in everyday, with their pristine white coats looking only to inflict further pain on my helpless soul.
I was beaten; destroyed to a point where I could no longer use most of my natural senses.
I had discovered, however, that when one loses every possible ability, others develop that were before unthinkable.
The past months I spent developing my ability; something I practiced only when I was alone.
If I focused hard enough, I could move things in the dark with tremendous effort.
The scientists knew nothing, for I was incredibly cautious when I performed at night.
Nothing ever moved too much, or else they would be suspicious of me.
Those fools kept dangerously corrosive chemicals neatly ordered on the top shelf.
I wasn’t a great scientist, but I could get things done.
One movement at a time, I set up my trap.
All it took was one fall to activate it.
The next day, they intended to torture me.
Little did they know, I was prepared.
No longer could they hurt me.
It was now their turn.
They deserved to die.
Softly, I chuckled.
One movement.
Kaboom.
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[WP] A story the first sentence of which contains twenty words, the next one nineteen, and so on in descending order. There is only one word in the last sentence.
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The tropical volcanic island was empty, for the first time in a century the beach wasn’t littered in foot prints. The boy fell to his knees, pressing his left palm into the coarse sand, while his right reached forward. His eyes filled with waves that splashed to the coastline where the tide pulled them into the sea.
“Never expect nature to coddle you, she has rules,” his father had told him a dozen times. However, he could always look to the village for help, he never expected to be alone. Their boat sailed to where the stars pointed, a pattern visible once every hundred years. They couldn’t wait for the boy out hunting, that’s the rule of the isles.
He stiffened his lips and glowered at pink clouds kissed by the sunset. Night skies crept closer and he wouldn’t survive until morning without fire.
Only the oldest hut --built by the first runners-- still stood. The next set of runners would use it to start. Land needed time to reset after supporting so long. In ten years' time the stars will shine. Leading new people to this bountiful island.
He knew he would not last. Ten years is too many. Alone at the end. Hungry and tired.
*Give up?*
Never.
|
I had never seen her looking so beautiful as when she was holding our child, first night back from hospital. She cast a silhouette on the wall that danced, back and forth to the music of her sweet cooing. A placid smile across baby’s face, peace and love radiated between the two of them, mother and daughter. I let myself fill with joy, joy I had not felt since the day of our wedding. It was different to that also, the joy, filling gaps I did not know were empty. I knew this to be my purpose, protecting these two, and providing for them both. Years ago, I was too selfish to comprehend putting others before myself, more fool me.
I was, more than anything else, more than joyful, I was intensely relieved. Oxymoronic, perhaps, but intense relief follows intense stress, in my own experience. If I never saw that doctor again, I’d count him lucky. Walking in to the room with him inside her, awful. My wife, spilled over the floor, desperately shielding baby.
Police arrived quickly, but they didn’t help much. How can my wife answer their questions? How can I answer their questions? Maybe if I killed him. He surely deserves it. Fire with fire. I’m justified. Murder.
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[WP] A story the first sentence of which contains twenty words, the next one nineteen, and so on in descending order. There is only one word in the last sentence.
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It was a sunny day in August when a door appeared in the middle of my room without any warning.
For a moment, I simply stared at it in disbelief, dropping my calculator and shoving my chair screeching backwards.
It was so strange seeing the ornate entrance floating in midair right before my eyes like a ghost.
Struggling to comprehend this utterly incomprehensible situation, I slowly circled the door like a wary feral animal.
When nothing of interest happened, I cautiously palmed the golden door handle and slowly turned it.
I couldn’t suppress a gasp at the beautiful forest that sprawled before my very eyes.
Making my way inside this miraculous world, I marveled at the soft velvety grass.
There were trees with thick trunks that stretched like columns towards the sky.
Upon approaching one of them, it became apparent that I wasn’t alone.
Marvelous pixies flitted around the flowers surrounding the wood like butterflies.
They were beautiful, unafraid of my touch, but seemed panicked.
They seemed to be trying to tell me something.
Trusting them, I followed them to another tree.
To my horror, there was an hourglass.
It was ticking down, almost out.
I ran for the door.
The world slowed down.
The door vanished.
I blinked.
Fuck.
|
I had never seen her looking so beautiful as when she was holding our child, first night back from hospital. She cast a silhouette on the wall that danced, back and forth to the music of her sweet cooing. A placid smile across baby’s face, peace and love radiated between the two of them, mother and daughter. I let myself fill with joy, joy I had not felt since the day of our wedding. It was different to that also, the joy, filling gaps I did not know were empty. I knew this to be my purpose, protecting these two, and providing for them both. Years ago, I was too selfish to comprehend putting others before myself, more fool me.
I was, more than anything else, more than joyful, I was intensely relieved. Oxymoronic, perhaps, but intense relief follows intense stress, in my own experience. If I never saw that doctor again, I’d count him lucky. Walking in to the room with him inside her, awful. My wife, spilled over the floor, desperately shielding baby.
Police arrived quickly, but they didn’t help much. How can my wife answer their questions? How can I answer their questions? Maybe if I killed him. He surely deserves it. Fire with fire. I’m justified. Murder.
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[WP] A story the first sentence of which contains twenty words, the next one nineteen, and so on in descending order. There is only one word in the last sentence.
|
The tropical volcanic island was empty, for the first time in a century the beach wasn’t littered in foot prints. The boy fell to his knees, pressing his left palm into the coarse sand, while his right reached forward. His eyes filled with waves that splashed to the coastline where the tide pulled them into the sea.
“Never expect nature to coddle you, she has rules,” his father had told him a dozen times. However, he could always look to the village for help, he never expected to be alone. Their boat sailed to where the stars pointed, a pattern visible once every hundred years. They couldn’t wait for the boy out hunting, that’s the rule of the isles.
He stiffened his lips and glowered at pink clouds kissed by the sunset. Night skies crept closer and he wouldn’t survive until morning without fire.
Only the oldest hut --built by the first runners-- still stood. The next set of runners would use it to start. Land needed time to reset after supporting so long. In ten years' time the stars will shine. Leading new people to this bountiful island.
He knew he would not last. Ten years is too many. Alone at the end. Hungry and tired.
*Give up?*
Never.
|
When I awoke this morning, I was six foot seven, 300 pounds, and wore size 15 shoes, so pretty tall.
By all accounts, I was a tall man to most people I encountered, towering over all of my friends.
I was the tallest in my family by at least 5 full inches, awkwardly cropped out in photos.
But today, something was off, I did not need to duck under the doorway as I normal.
In fact, it seemed that I even had a few inches of clearance stretched above me.
Now that was odd, having room above my head was something I was unfamiliar with.
As I trotted down the hall to the bathroom, I noticed my stride shortening.
By the time I reached the shower, my pajama bottoms had swallowed me.
I stepped into the shower to find myself barely reaching the faucet.
Minutes into washing, I had to swim out, barely staying afloat.
I had to crawl out of the tub but how?
I could not see myself in the mirror anymore.
I jumped and stretched but all in vain.
I had often complained of my height.
But now, I regretted my bellyaching.
The carpet fibers were coarse.
It becomes a forest.
Swallowing me up.
Oh dear.
Goodbye.
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[WP] Everyone has a guardian angel. They appear whenever your life is in extreme danger. You fall madly in love with your guardian angel, so you set up life threatening situations just to summon them.
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Vic was falling from her balcony on the 9th floor. She planned to jump head down, but tripped and now was flying in an awkward angle towards the horizon: a little bit of sky and tall candles of the Financial Districts were floating by. She almost started thinking about the beauty of her view as force of physics Vic didn’t know (it was a Magnus effect) rotated her towards the building, rudely dropped two floors below hers on her neighbor's balcony. By some bizarre chance she landed on her knees and hands. And as she attempted an act of thinking about what just happened, she noticed in front of her a pair of white shoes, then white socks then white pants, then, as she was raising her head higher, white t-shirt and way above her an extremely judgmental, but pretty dude’s face.
She jumped up immediately on her feet. The dude was cartoonishly tall and thin; unrealistically tall and thin. He had grey almost transparent eyes, ash hair and very beautiful pale face which clearly expressed that the dude wasn’t amused.
“I am so sorry!” blurted Vic
“You should be.” — he stated half apathetically half disappointedly — “You almost killed yourself. On purpose. For what reasons, tell me please?”
Vic opened her mouth to explain, but then she noticed that behind the dude’s back there was a pair of huge black wings.
“Am I dead?” asked Vic.
“No” — he rolled his eyes — “I just told you: you *almost* killed yourself. I am your guardian angel. I come when my human’s life is in extreme danger, but when it’s decided that it is not time and we want to make sure nothing happens, you know, Magnus effect rotates you in correct direction et cetera”
“Oh, Thanks! That is very kind of you! Do you have a name?” Vic, as it pertains to those surviving suicide was full of energy and determined to be everything she could never be before.
“Azazel”
“Isn’t it like some kind of demon of war?” Vic asked cautiously and looked at his black wings and at the way too beautiful, way too contemptuous face.
“Not of war, but yeah, demon, you can say. At least, as a demon should, I mostly hate humanity, especially idiots who commit suicide.”
“Why did you save me then?”
“Work, work” — he said and and then looked at his watch — “You have to deal with your neighbor yourself,'' he said and disappeared.
Vic dealt with the neighbor. The encounter filled her with unknown to her before levels of energy. Just earlier in the day she didn’t know what to live for. Now she wanted to see the demon-angel again. To ask him. To see the condemnation, to hear him speaking. To know why *actually* he saved her. It was easy. He told her how. Just push herself on the brink of survival. After an attempt of suicide what can be easier?
She didn’t want to jump however: not enough control. Also cannot do too often: she’ll get hospitalized if survives. She needed a regular activity where she’d be able to have a chance at pulling away at the last moment before the forces of nature would notice. She had to become an expert in something dangerous. She googled that night how to become a firefighter.
It took her a year of serious practice: running, weight lifting, diet, psychological training (no one knew about the suicide attempt). She knew it was worth that. She became a firefighter. The first woman in the county, by the way.
The July one more year after that was really hot. Vic was melting at the station as a call to go summoned her from daydreaming about Azazel appearing in fires and smoke (as a demon should) and telling her, telling her more: what the world is, why he saves, how it feels to be a saving demon.
The fire her team arrived to was a mess. An old building, a poor neighborhood, no proper safety. Vic ran up and broke a door into an apartment where people said two kids often stayed alone when their mother was at work. It was too hard to see and she wasn’t sure if it was enough oxygen to breathe. She went in the room nearby and saw two little kids sitting under the table hugging each other. She was trained well. She did everything she should’ve done. She gave the kids to her teammate. He started walking down with them as the floor under Vic's feet fell and she started falling into the level down: where there was much much more fire. Then for the first time since the suicide *he* appeared. She stretched her arm to him, but he didn’t do anything.
“This time it’s time, I am afraid,'' he said phlegmatically.
“But why? Why then, why now? Why, Azazel?!” she yelled.
“Work, really. You know, it’s pretty annoying actually. Maybe I’ll get promoted in a century or two. That would be nice," his face was very beautiful and pensive.
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Matilda, she sure had a special place in Damien's heart, she was his Guardian angel after all.
Damien had first discovered his soon to be bride when he was mauled by a pit bull as a young lad.
The beautiful angel glided through the sky, and set a somnolent spell on the canine, causing it to doze into a coma-like state.
Most people would've thanked the beauty, but Damien shoved his lips on Matilda's rosy cheeks, causing her to blush.
She didn't stay around for long, as she soon disappeared after the heroic act, but Damien couldn't stop thinking about her.
Now, Damien purposely puts himself in hazardous situations, just to see his "sunshine" again.
Sure, most people would scold Damien for acting so foolish, but the power of love beat logic.
Little did Damien know, this would be the moment, the moment Matilda would fall in love with the young lad.
Damien wanted to test Matilda's mind to she if she'd been smart enough to marry, so he gave her a challenge.
Damien had put a poison inside of his body, inserted it through his mouth, and it'd clog his lungs.
He created a locked-room incident, one with a spiritual bound, so it'd take Matilda logical thinking an order to get into the room, and suck the poison out of Damien's body.
Matilda felt Damien's life slowly draining away; that was the first cue.
She flew through the evening sky, and attempted to break through his front door, but she couldn't due, due to the spiritual bond Damien had set earlier.
Matilda thought quick, she only had a minute to save Damien, and she couldn't fail her duty.
The nearest human was Mr. Johnson, Damien's next door neighbor.
Without thinking, she dashed next door, and possessed the middle aged bum.
First, she ran over to Damien's house.
Next, she ripped off the spiritual bond, because if Matilda didn't, she'd be trapped inside of Damien's house.
Then, she got on the floor, and prepared to suck the poison out of Damien.
She was an angel, so consuming poison was a pinch to her.
After that, she finally sucked the poison out of Damien, directly through his lips.
Poor Damien, he had his first kiss with his admirer, but she took the form of his sober neighbor.
Finally, Matilda woke up the young lad, and noticed his shiny crystal eyes.
"Damien listen, don't ever do that again!" cried Damien, she hugged him tightly, with tears slowly running down her eyes.
"AHHHHH! How'd you get in here," stressed Damien. "I'm calling the authorities!"
"Damien it's me, Matilda." reassured Matilda.
Damien found it difficult to believe at first, but he noticed her aura, and showed her something in his picket.
"Matilda, marry me!"
Matilda absolutely adored the offer, but she couldn't marry a human, it was strictly forbidden.
"My apologies, I'd love to marry you-" Matilda gushed.
"Then why don't you marry me?" Damien interrupted.
"I'm not allowed to fall in love with a human, I love you, but this can't work." Matilda sighed.
Damien's face was overwhelmed with a frown, he couldn't bare to live without his Matilda.
You can't be my husband, but you are my lover.
And during that slight second, time seemed to perish as the couple locked lips.
Sure, they couldn't devote themselves to each other, but they could still show affection.
In the distant future, Matilda would have to see her lover die, but that wasn't going to happen in a while.
THE END
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[WP] Everyone has a guardian angel. They appear whenever your life is in extreme danger. You fall madly in love with your guardian angel, so you set up life threatening situations just to summon them.
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The first time was an accident. I was only fourteen at the time, but I can still remember as if it where yesterday. I was playing on top of a dilapidated water tower in a field near the edge of the village. My parents warned me to stay away from the rusty metal structure, saying something about “tetanus” or something like that. Either way, my teenaged self didn’t bother to care. I was confident. I was capable. I was invincible.
165 feet into the air I climbed. One rung after another. Rungs, although rusty, had no trouble supporting the weight of my fourteen year old body...until it didn’t. With a slight groan followed by a horrific snap, the rung I just grabbed broke at the weld point to the tower.
I recall falling backwards, the top of the tower getting smaller and smaller. I closed my eyes and braced for the inevitable impact with the ground that never came. I was suddenly embraced by a warm light and I slowly opened my eyes, thinking I was already dead.
What I saw before me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A golden cascade of hair framed a dainty, yet strong face. A pair of ice blue eyes stared at me, piercing my soul. She had a slight smile, though I could see that Her eyes were tinged with sadness.
“Jake,” she uttered softly, “I’m sorry...”
After a slight pause, I saw a brief shift in Her expression.
“It is not your time yet...just remember...I will always protect you...”
As Her voice trailed off, I felt myself losing consciousness. As the world became darker, I realized that I would never forget meeting Her.
I groggily woke up in a hospital bed with the rhythmic beeping of the machinery around me. I was later told by the doctor that I was extremely lucky to have survived my fall from the water tower with nothing but some scratches and bruises. The doctor joking suggested that I had to have a guardian angel watching over me.
Like a lightning bolt, the memories of what just transpired came rushing back to me. I felt my heart start racing and my palms became sweaty. I struggled to recall the face of the beautiful woman I saw, but all I could see was a glowing golden light.
I wanted to see Her again, but how?
From that day forward, I dedicated myself to researching ancient myths and legends about guardian angels. I was never the best student, but I managed to get into a world class research university and eventually became a PhD candidate. My thesis was based on my research and I sought to prove the existence of guardian angels. The Bible. The Koran. The Torah. Ancient manuscripts in China. Engravings on ancient structures. Anything that had mention of guardian spirits.
I hit many roadblocks along the way, but every time I though of my encounter with Her, my heart would race and my determination would only increase. After many years, I reached a conclusion that had to be tested.
Guardian angels only appear when the one they are protecting is in mortal danger.
I decided to test my theory using the only available test subject: myself.
For my first test, I tried to recreate my first encounter with Her as closely as possible. I drove back to my home town and made my way back to the old water tower. It was looking even more dilapidated than before, but it was still standing. Perfect.
I set up a tripod and a camera several yards away from where I was aiming to land. Hopefully I would be able to get concrete evidence about the existence of guardian angels.
I climbed up the water tower once again, and after taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I leaned backwards and plummeted towards the earth.
A golden glow enveloped me and I cried out in joy. I knew it! Guardian angels are real! My body slowed and I landed feet first on the grass without a scratch on me.
I saw Her face and it looked just like I recalled. She was still stunningly beautiful, though this time she seemed to have a look of disappointment on her face.
“Jake,” she uttered with slight exasperation, “Why are you doing this?”
“I wanted to see you, to thank you, after saving me. I never got the chance,” I whispered.
“ I will always be there to protect you, but...”
“I love you! I have loved you ever since I laid eyes on you those many years ago! Please don’t leave! You are the reason for my existence!” I blurted out to Her.
“I’m sorry Jake, that is impossible...” Her voice trailed off and the golden glow faded away into the sky.
I stared at the spot where she was in silence for several minutes before walking over to my camera. I replayed the footage and did not see any golden glow or sign of Her existence. All I saw was me talking and gesturing to an unseen being. I guess it is not possible to film guardian angels after all.
I packed up my gear and walked back to my car. As I was driving off, I thought about other ways to make Her appear. Was there a restriction on how often she could appear? Does this mean I was essentially immortal?
These thoughts swirled around my mind for hours as I drove back to my apartment near the university. I walked into my room, closed the door, and sat down on my bed.
Yes, it has to be. This could work. I could see her more.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed my kitchen knife. Without hesitation, I brought the knife up to my neck and cut my jugular vein. Nothing happened. No pain. No blood.
I was once again enveloped by a golden glow and She appeared before me.
“Jake,” she uttered, sounding completely exasperated, “I do not even know what to say...”
“Say you will stay with me! If you do, I won’t try to hurt myself anymore! I I want is to be with you, forever!”
She stood there in silence, looked at me and shook her head. She then faded away and the golden glow vanished.
Months went by and my life continued. I started to take more and more risks. Skydiving. Base jumping. I even quit being a student to join the military. I took every risk I could and as a result, I saw her many times. Months turned to years. Years turned to decades. I was decorated many times for charging into gunfire to save a downed comrade. No matter what happened, I never was injured. I saw her over a thousand times, each time the golden glow started to get a little less brilliant. No matter. I wanted to see her again.
Now, I was retired from the military. I lived by myself in a small cabin in the woods close to my hometown. I did not care to be around other people. I was just happy to see Her.
One day, as I was falling asleep, I was covered by a faint golden glow. I sat up in bed, excited to see Her.
“Jake,” she uttered, “My powers are fading. This is last time I can see you. Farewell...”
“Wait-,” I started to say before she disappeared for the last time. I sat there in silence, laid my head down and closed my eyes. The world be dark around me and I drifted off peacefully.
...
“I’m sorry, he is gone,” Dr. Jones said as he stood next to Jake lifeless body. “We did all we could but his internal injuries were too severe. The fall from the water tower ruptured his internal organs and we could not stop the bleeding.”
Jake’s parents sobbed silently as they listened to Dr.Jones’ statement. Their fourteen year old son, Jake, had just died after falling from an old water tower. They had cautioned him of the dangers but he never paid attention to their warnings.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dr. Jones stated, “Can I speak with two of you outside?” Jake’s parents nodded and the three of them stepped out side of the room.
As the door shut behind them, a faint golden glow appeared beside Jake’s lifeless corpse. Her hand reached down and gently caressed Jake’s face.
“I’m sorry I was too late to save you from your fall,” she whispered, “I hope you had a good dream, it was the least I could do...”
With that last statement, She kissed Jake’s forehead and faded away.
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Matilda, she sure had a special place in Damien's heart, she was his Guardian angel after all.
Damien had first discovered his soon to be bride when he was mauled by a pit bull as a young lad.
The beautiful angel glided through the sky, and set a somnolent spell on the canine, causing it to doze into a coma-like state.
Most people would've thanked the beauty, but Damien shoved his lips on Matilda's rosy cheeks, causing her to blush.
She didn't stay around for long, as she soon disappeared after the heroic act, but Damien couldn't stop thinking about her.
Now, Damien purposely puts himself in hazardous situations, just to see his "sunshine" again.
Sure, most people would scold Damien for acting so foolish, but the power of love beat logic.
Little did Damien know, this would be the moment, the moment Matilda would fall in love with the young lad.
Damien wanted to test Matilda's mind to she if she'd been smart enough to marry, so he gave her a challenge.
Damien had put a poison inside of his body, inserted it through his mouth, and it'd clog his lungs.
He created a locked-room incident, one with a spiritual bound, so it'd take Matilda logical thinking an order to get into the room, and suck the poison out of Damien's body.
Matilda felt Damien's life slowly draining away; that was the first cue.
She flew through the evening sky, and attempted to break through his front door, but she couldn't due, due to the spiritual bond Damien had set earlier.
Matilda thought quick, she only had a minute to save Damien, and she couldn't fail her duty.
The nearest human was Mr. Johnson, Damien's next door neighbor.
Without thinking, she dashed next door, and possessed the middle aged bum.
First, she ran over to Damien's house.
Next, she ripped off the spiritual bond, because if Matilda didn't, she'd be trapped inside of Damien's house.
Then, she got on the floor, and prepared to suck the poison out of Damien.
She was an angel, so consuming poison was a pinch to her.
After that, she finally sucked the poison out of Damien, directly through his lips.
Poor Damien, he had his first kiss with his admirer, but she took the form of his sober neighbor.
Finally, Matilda woke up the young lad, and noticed his shiny crystal eyes.
"Damien listen, don't ever do that again!" cried Damien, she hugged him tightly, with tears slowly running down her eyes.
"AHHHHH! How'd you get in here," stressed Damien. "I'm calling the authorities!"
"Damien it's me, Matilda." reassured Matilda.
Damien found it difficult to believe at first, but he noticed her aura, and showed her something in his picket.
"Matilda, marry me!"
Matilda absolutely adored the offer, but she couldn't marry a human, it was strictly forbidden.
"My apologies, I'd love to marry you-" Matilda gushed.
"Then why don't you marry me?" Damien interrupted.
"I'm not allowed to fall in love with a human, I love you, but this can't work." Matilda sighed.
Damien's face was overwhelmed with a frown, he couldn't bare to live without his Matilda.
You can't be my husband, but you are my lover.
And during that slight second, time seemed to perish as the couple locked lips.
Sure, they couldn't devote themselves to each other, but they could still show affection.
In the distant future, Matilda would have to see her lover die, but that wasn't going to happen in a while.
THE END
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[WP] Everyone has a guardian angel. They appear whenever your life is in extreme danger. You fall madly in love with your guardian angel, so you set up life threatening situations just to summon them.
|
The first time was an accident. I was only fourteen at the time, but I can still remember as if it where yesterday. I was playing on top of a dilapidated water tower in a field near the edge of the village. My parents warned me to stay away from the rusty metal structure, saying something about “tetanus” or something like that. Either way, my teenaged self didn’t bother to care. I was confident. I was capable. I was invincible.
165 feet into the air I climbed. One rung after another. Rungs, although rusty, had no trouble supporting the weight of my fourteen year old body...until it didn’t. With a slight groan followed by a horrific snap, the rung I just grabbed broke at the weld point to the tower.
I recall falling backwards, the top of the tower getting smaller and smaller. I closed my eyes and braced for the inevitable impact with the ground that never came. I was suddenly embraced by a warm light and I slowly opened my eyes, thinking I was already dead.
What I saw before me was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. A golden cascade of hair framed a dainty, yet strong face. A pair of ice blue eyes stared at me, piercing my soul. She had a slight smile, though I could see that Her eyes were tinged with sadness.
“Jake,” she uttered softly, “I’m sorry...”
After a slight pause, I saw a brief shift in Her expression.
“It is not your time yet...just remember...I will always protect you...”
As Her voice trailed off, I felt myself losing consciousness. As the world became darker, I realized that I would never forget meeting Her.
I groggily woke up in a hospital bed with the rhythmic beeping of the machinery around me. I was later told by the doctor that I was extremely lucky to have survived my fall from the water tower with nothing but some scratches and bruises. The doctor joking suggested that I had to have a guardian angel watching over me.
Like a lightning bolt, the memories of what just transpired came rushing back to me. I felt my heart start racing and my palms became sweaty. I struggled to recall the face of the beautiful woman I saw, but all I could see was a glowing golden light.
I wanted to see Her again, but how?
From that day forward, I dedicated myself to researching ancient myths and legends about guardian angels. I was never the best student, but I managed to get into a world class research university and eventually became a PhD candidate. My thesis was based on my research and I sought to prove the existence of guardian angels. The Bible. The Koran. The Torah. Ancient manuscripts in China. Engravings on ancient structures. Anything that had mention of guardian spirits.
I hit many roadblocks along the way, but every time I though of my encounter with Her, my heart would race and my determination would only increase. After many years, I reached a conclusion that had to be tested.
Guardian angels only appear when the one they are protecting is in mortal danger.
I decided to test my theory using the only available test subject: myself.
For my first test, I tried to recreate my first encounter with Her as closely as possible. I drove back to my home town and made my way back to the old water tower. It was looking even more dilapidated than before, but it was still standing. Perfect.
I set up a tripod and a camera several yards away from where I was aiming to land. Hopefully I would be able to get concrete evidence about the existence of guardian angels.
I climbed up the water tower once again, and after taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I leaned backwards and plummeted towards the earth.
A golden glow enveloped me and I cried out in joy. I knew it! Guardian angels are real! My body slowed and I landed feet first on the grass without a scratch on me.
I saw Her face and it looked just like I recalled. She was still stunningly beautiful, though this time she seemed to have a look of disappointment on her face.
“Jake,” she uttered with slight exasperation, “Why are you doing this?”
“I wanted to see you, to thank you, after saving me. I never got the chance,” I whispered.
“ I will always be there to protect you, but...”
“I love you! I have loved you ever since I laid eyes on you those many years ago! Please don’t leave! You are the reason for my existence!” I blurted out to Her.
“I’m sorry Jake, that is impossible...” Her voice trailed off and the golden glow faded away into the sky.
I stared at the spot where she was in silence for several minutes before walking over to my camera. I replayed the footage and did not see any golden glow or sign of Her existence. All I saw was me talking and gesturing to an unseen being. I guess it is not possible to film guardian angels after all.
I packed up my gear and walked back to my car. As I was driving off, I thought about other ways to make Her appear. Was there a restriction on how often she could appear? Does this mean I was essentially immortal?
These thoughts swirled around my mind for hours as I drove back to my apartment near the university. I walked into my room, closed the door, and sat down on my bed.
Yes, it has to be. This could work. I could see her more.
I went to the kitchen and grabbed my kitchen knife. Without hesitation, I brought the knife up to my neck and cut my jugular vein. Nothing happened. No pain. No blood.
I was once again enveloped by a golden glow and She appeared before me.
“Jake,” she uttered, sounding completely exasperated, “I do not even know what to say...”
“Say you will stay with me! If you do, I won’t try to hurt myself anymore! I I want is to be with you, forever!”
She stood there in silence, looked at me and shook her head. She then faded away and the golden glow vanished.
Months went by and my life continued. I started to take more and more risks. Skydiving. Base jumping. I even quit being a student to join the military. I took every risk I could and as a result, I saw her many times. Months turned to years. Years turned to decades. I was decorated many times for charging into gunfire to save a downed comrade. No matter what happened, I never was injured. I saw her over a thousand times, each time the golden glow started to get a little less brilliant. No matter. I wanted to see her again.
Now, I was retired from the military. I lived by myself in a small cabin in the woods close to my hometown. I did not care to be around other people. I was just happy to see Her.
One day, as I was falling asleep, I was covered by a faint golden glow. I sat up in bed, excited to see Her.
“Jake,” she uttered, “My powers are fading. This is last time I can see you. Farewell...”
“Wait-,” I started to say before she disappeared for the last time. I sat there in silence, laid my head down and closed my eyes. The world be dark around me and I drifted off peacefully.
...
“I’m sorry, he is gone,” Dr. Jones said as he stood next to Jake lifeless body. “We did all we could but his internal injuries were too severe. The fall from the water tower ruptured his internal organs and we could not stop the bleeding.”
Jake’s parents sobbed silently as they listened to Dr.Jones’ statement. Their fourteen year old son, Jake, had just died after falling from an old water tower. They had cautioned him of the dangers but he never paid attention to their warnings.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Dr. Jones stated, “Can I speak with two of you outside?” Jake’s parents nodded and the three of them stepped out side of the room.
As the door shut behind them, a faint golden glow appeared beside Jake’s lifeless corpse. Her hand reached down and gently caressed Jake’s face.
“I’m sorry I was too late to save you from your fall,” she whispered, “I hope you had a good dream, it was the least I could do...”
With that last statement, She kissed Jake’s forehead and faded away.
|
Vic was falling from her balcony on the 9th floor. She planned to jump head down, but tripped and now was flying in an awkward angle towards the horizon: a little bit of sky and tall candles of the Financial Districts were floating by. She almost started thinking about the beauty of her view as force of physics Vic didn’t know (it was a Magnus effect) rotated her towards the building, rudely dropped two floors below hers on her neighbor's balcony. By some bizarre chance she landed on her knees and hands. And as she attempted an act of thinking about what just happened, she noticed in front of her a pair of white shoes, then white socks then white pants, then, as she was raising her head higher, white t-shirt and way above her an extremely judgmental, but pretty dude’s face.
She jumped up immediately on her feet. The dude was cartoonishly tall and thin; unrealistically tall and thin. He had grey almost transparent eyes, ash hair and very beautiful pale face which clearly expressed that the dude wasn’t amused.
“I am so sorry!” blurted Vic
“You should be.” — he stated half apathetically half disappointedly — “You almost killed yourself. On purpose. For what reasons, tell me please?”
Vic opened her mouth to explain, but then she noticed that behind the dude’s back there was a pair of huge black wings.
“Am I dead?” asked Vic.
“No” — he rolled his eyes — “I just told you: you *almost* killed yourself. I am your guardian angel. I come when my human’s life is in extreme danger, but when it’s decided that it is not time and we want to make sure nothing happens, you know, Magnus effect rotates you in correct direction et cetera”
“Oh, Thanks! That is very kind of you! Do you have a name?” Vic, as it pertains to those surviving suicide was full of energy and determined to be everything she could never be before.
“Azazel”
“Isn’t it like some kind of demon of war?” Vic asked cautiously and looked at his black wings and at the way too beautiful, way too contemptuous face.
“Not of war, but yeah, demon, you can say. At least, as a demon should, I mostly hate humanity, especially idiots who commit suicide.”
“Why did you save me then?”
“Work, work” — he said and and then looked at his watch — “You have to deal with your neighbor yourself,'' he said and disappeared.
Vic dealt with the neighbor. The encounter filled her with unknown to her before levels of energy. Just earlier in the day she didn’t know what to live for. Now she wanted to see the demon-angel again. To ask him. To see the condemnation, to hear him speaking. To know why *actually* he saved her. It was easy. He told her how. Just push herself on the brink of survival. After an attempt of suicide what can be easier?
She didn’t want to jump however: not enough control. Also cannot do too often: she’ll get hospitalized if survives. She needed a regular activity where she’d be able to have a chance at pulling away at the last moment before the forces of nature would notice. She had to become an expert in something dangerous. She googled that night how to become a firefighter.
It took her a year of serious practice: running, weight lifting, diet, psychological training (no one knew about the suicide attempt). She knew it was worth that. She became a firefighter. The first woman in the county, by the way.
The July one more year after that was really hot. Vic was melting at the station as a call to go summoned her from daydreaming about Azazel appearing in fires and smoke (as a demon should) and telling her, telling her more: what the world is, why he saves, how it feels to be a saving demon.
The fire her team arrived to was a mess. An old building, a poor neighborhood, no proper safety. Vic ran up and broke a door into an apartment where people said two kids often stayed alone when their mother was at work. It was too hard to see and she wasn’t sure if it was enough oxygen to breathe. She went in the room nearby and saw two little kids sitting under the table hugging each other. She was trained well. She did everything she should’ve done. She gave the kids to her teammate. He started walking down with them as the floor under Vic's feet fell and she started falling into the level down: where there was much much more fire. Then for the first time since the suicide *he* appeared. She stretched her arm to him, but he didn’t do anything.
“This time it’s time, I am afraid,'' he said phlegmatically.
“But why? Why then, why now? Why, Azazel?!” she yelled.
“Work, really. You know, it’s pretty annoying actually. Maybe I’ll get promoted in a century or two. That would be nice," his face was very beautiful and pensive.
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[WP] You have accidentally become the very first proven case, with irrefutable evidence, that ghosts exist. The rest of the ghost community is absolutely furious with you.
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You know how some days are almost perfectly mundane? Today was one of those days. I avoided the shitty drivers on the highway, plowed out spreadsheets and numbers at my job, and thought about how boring my day was in the eternal traffic jam at the intersection of 99 and Main. But.
I pulled into the driveway and walked through the front door to see my wife sobbing on her couch, being hugged by her two best friends.
"Honey, what's wrong?" I immediately asked, running over to her.
"You- what-" she spluttered as she looked up, turning pale. "Is this some kind of sick fucking joke?!"
I smiled weakly in confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"You died this morning! I- in a car crash!" she sobbed. "I don't know what game you're playing at, but get the fuck out."
Her friends both turned to me, and I backed up with my hands in the air. "I have no idea what you're talking about! I think I would know if I was dead? Look, honey, it's me. You... you... you always put apple juice in your chicken soup! And you've never told anyone else your secret ingredient."
Just then, I heard the door open. "Ma'am, we have some good news." The police officer walked right past me, and I had to step to the side to avoid her. "Thanks to the efforts of citizens, we have found the driver that hit your husband this morning and taken him into custody."
My eyes widened and my face turned white as a sheet... or... white as a ghost?
(Thank you for reading! This is my first time posting here, so if you have any advice on how to improve I would really appreciate it!)
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I sat in the business meeting at Travel Channel as they all looked at me with anger in their eyes. I mean, I cant really blame them since I exposed what ghosts really were like, which ruined almost all of their TV shows.
"Look I could say it was a fake thing and stuff," I said
"That wouldn't work you idiot!" One of the people in suits yelled, "how the hell can you disprove this!" he then pointed to the video footage of a green glowing ghost going into a desk, the desk glowing green before moving, the ghost getting out, and then turning into a leaf made of nothing out of the periodic table.
"You've already shown the ghost to many people." The executive yelled.
"Look all I did was dig in my backyard and find the leaf in there which then transformed into a ghost dog," I said, "Now can I please go?"
"No!" Everyone in there all yelled at the same time.
"You are going to pay for what you did!" One of the executives yelled.
I decided to get out of the seat and bolt out the door as they were chasing me. I decides to take the leaf out of my pocket and it turned into the ghost dog. With his possession skills I was able to get out of there with ease. Now as I ran from Travel Channel executives with a ghost dog I couldn't help but think, 'what even is travel channel?'
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[WP] Humanity has recently discovered a way of summoning demons, angels and some other fantastical creatures. But things get a little absurd when it's discovered you can summon other humans
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The couple took a breath and looked at each other with a little anxiety mingled with excitement. There was an understanding and acceptance in their eyes as they moved toward each other.
"Are you ready to summon a human?" he whispered.
She nodded.
He stood up. "Lights on or off?"
"I don't remember what the instructions were," she confessed.
"Lights on for a white-skinned human. Lights off for a dark-skinned one."
She bit her lip, thinking. "Off," she decided. "We can keep them on for the next time."
He nodded, flicked the lights off, undressed and got in bed. She undressed and got into bed.
They began to scramble.
"Okay, so I'm going to put this here..."
"Are you sure? Won't that make our human shy? I want it to be outgoing."
"Okay, then I'ma have to put this here, but it might hurt..."
"Fine. But not too many pumps. I don't want the human's head to be too big."
"Pumps don't control the head here. I have to put that over there."
"In this?"
"No, in that. Roll over."
"Like this?"
"No, the other way."
"Oh, wait! I want our human to have green eyes. Get the lava lamp. It's in the drawer. Okay, perfect."
"Hmm. Honey, put one foot up there...right. Now I'ma going to put my shoulder here...my knee over there...the third finger of my left hand in this...and my neck on that..."
"Oooh, what does this do?"
"I don't know. I just wanted to try it."
And so it went.
9 months later, their perfect little human was born just the way they had wanted him.
"Congratulations!" The doctor told the couple. "I can tell you two put a lot of work and creativity into this one. You guys planning on having another?"
The happy couple looked at each other with tired smiles, thinking back to that night, and said: "We think we'll wait awhile. One might be enough!"
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I was discouraged by my complete inability to summon anything - no unicorns, no demons, not so much as a pixie. I tried for days, then in a state of final dispair, tried one more rhyme:
"He travels when things are timey-wimey
I summon thee, o Lord of Timey"
There came a great sound of time-brakes grinding. A blue box began to appear, completely transparent at first. In a sudden burst of panic I shouted "I take it back- I have no lack!"
The box and the noise disappeared. I was really unready to face my own personal hero. I'd led such a loser life up to now. That triggered a thought - What if I accomplished something great, THEN summoned HimHer?
I thought furiously, my juices really going now. Ah HA! I know just what to do.
"He's 1600's worst ever resident,
I summon thee, Mister President."
There was a bright orange flash, and there he was, in rumpled suit and with mouth open, just like always.
"Mr. President, we need to talk..." I started.
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[WP] All is silent in your room as you sit with your head back against the wall, late in the evening. When you listen closely, however, you can hear the sound of somebody playing a violin on the other side.
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Moving on is a lonely process.
I sat on my bed, pillows against the apartment wall, waiting in the dark.
My sister used to tell me meditating was the key to her well being. So I sat in some uncomfortable posture like I did every night, trying to clear my head and doing an impressively poor job at it... waiting in the dark.
My thoughts wandered as I pondered about simpler times: when siblings were mean and friends were aplenty; when love was as simple as smiles and skipped heartbeats; when dads were strong... and moms were alive.
I sat on my bed, expecting, waiting in the dark. I didn't dare look at the alarm clock; I knew better. It was no use being impatient, sleep would find me when I'd hear her. It always did.
Maybe I should have felt guilty for not feeling better yet, after all these months. My sister, bless her heart, she didn't deserve this. She shouldn't feel obligated to call so often, checking up on me. She already had her hands full with dad. People around me were moving on, getting their shit together, so why not me? Maybe they were stronger than me, or perhaps ---
The violin started playing.
My lips curled into a bittersweet smile. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The tune was beautiful. It always was. I pressed my ear against the wall. Focussing. Listening. Taking it in. The world around me stopped for a moment, and there was nothing but the tune. Slow, heartwarming, and sad. The notes were deliberate, each one leading into the next like a weave of perfect harmony. Eyes closed and ear against the wall, not only could I hear her, but I could almost see her now. A white robe from shoulders to ankles, sitting on the wooden stool and leading the bow against the instrument in graceful motions...
... She had been the most perfect of all violinists.
The song lulled me to bed, my concerns gone, my restlessness gone, my pain gone. My consciousness shrank as the world around me stopped existing. My apartment room went first, then the feel of the bed and the sheets, then my thoughts. But the tune... the tune stayed. It stayed and it would do so until I would be ready.
Moving on is a lonely process, but I wouldn't go to sleep alone. Not yet. *Goodnight, mom.*
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“Strange,” I thought. I had been preparing to rest, going through my thoughts and mentally preparing for the next day when the faint sound of a violin travelled through the wall behind me. I sat and listened for a few minutes, the soft melody climbing and dropping with precision. A song I had never heard before. I looked out my window and saw nothing out of the ordinary. I tried to sleep but although the music was peaceful, it would not allow rest.
I peaked out the window once more. Nothing. I put on my dressing gown and ventured outside. The brisk evening air sent a chill through my body. My feet treading lightly along dewy grass. I was expecting to find a speaker or some device that was playing the music in my garden. That wasn’t what I found.
When I rounded the corner, a bright figure hovered before me. Her arms delicately tracing a bow across a violin. The heavenly tune emanating from where she played. Her hair wavering in a nonexistent breeze.
“W-w-Who are you?” I said. The figure kept playing ignoring my words. The tune mesmerising at it seemed to grow louder. I edged slowly closer. Staring. Watching her hands and fingers masterfully play.
“Your time has come, you cannot escape, ” the figure said. Her voice smooth and rich. The notes grew faster.
“What? What do you mean?” I said. I blinked. Shaking my head my thoughts started to return. As though a fog had lifted. “Who are you?”
“I am the angel of death. Your time has come. You cannot escape.”
I turned and ran. I couldn’t give up. Not that easily. Her words followed me. “You cannot escape.” As though they were imprinted into my mind. The tune of the violin seemed to fade as I ran. I rounded a corner to a dark alley.
I dared peak behind me. The figure was gone.
“Your time has come. You cannot escape.” The voice pierced through me. Chilling my core. She hovered inches from me. Her glowing body emanating. Pulsating. Rhythmically shifting. Her hands started to work on the violin again. The song filling the alleyway. My time had come. No. No. I turned away from her. Tearing my eyes away. It hurt. Tears fell from my eyes. As I tried to run. But my legs barely moved.
“Your time has come. You cannot escape.”
“No.” I screamed desperately. The angel’s song growing stronger. The beautiful notes rising and falling. Played to perfection.
“I can’t. I can’t give in. I can’t escape.” No that was wrong to say. I felt sick. The melody filled my body.
“Your time has come. You cannot escape.” Her words so enticing. Drawing me in.
I turned. My legs betraying me. She was there hovering. “I can. I can esc... I cannot.” I was lost. The rhythm of her music. Her shimmering beauty. Her eyes. Merely white circles yet they pulled me in.
“My time has come. I cannot escape.”
Everything faded to white.
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[WP] You are a side character in a typical dystopian young adult novel. All your life been living happilly in the background but recently, the main character started talking to you more- you even got a an entire arc. But you suddenly realized: the author is bulding you up to be killed for the drama.
|
The tall strapping young hero put an arm on my shoulder as we vanquished the vile beast. "Well done, Bob. You've done really well."
"Thanks Thomas. I mean, that was fun. That was really fun. Beats hanging around the treehouse in the background all day."
"You know, Bob, you've been such a valuable player to the team. I don't know what we'd do without you."
*Oh God.*
"At the start you were kind of a self centred lone wolf who only fought for himself but now you have learnt to fight for the team."
*Oh no.*
"Your beautiful wife and two beautiful daughters, who miss you very much and would love to see you come home, are very lucky to have you as a father.
*Oh crap.*
"Now, why don't we march together to the lair of the Beast and fight the remaining horde so that we can escape this hell hole and return to our homes?"
"Great, Thomas, that sounds great," I said, picking up my spear. I looked cautiously at Thomas. "Say, I was thinking maybe I'll stay here, you know, and fix those leaks in roof of the treehouse. Looks like it might rain soon."
"Nonsense! We need your strength and valour on this mission."
"Excuse me for a moment," I said to Thomas. I looked up into the cloudless sky, wondering which direction to point, then picked a random one and shouted, "You can't do this to me! I've got a real fictional family now! They like me! I don't wanna go!"
"Bob?" Thomas said curiously.
"Shut up, Thomas," I said. Then I stuck the end of my spear into the ground, and threw my hands in the air. "It's no use. This is all arbitrary. One day we could be nothing and the next day the hero, and the next day dead. Only the heroes and villains stick around to the end."
Only the heroes and villains. Only they get to make it to the end. The hero, Thomas, had already been decided 15 chapters ago. But the villain had not yet been revealed, and for all I know not even determined. Perhaps there was still a vacancy.
I picked up the spear and walked towards Thomas. Thomas smiled and said, "Ready to fight?"
"Oh yes," I said. "I'm going to fight for my life."
|
The undercover cop came back into the nursery. His back story is that he is back in town after dropping out of some sort of higher education; evidently he knew my brother back before he joined the army. The small talk is only a little off, a little forced. He pretends to be into succulents. I watched him ignore a co-worker and pretend to look at rakes for ten minutes the first time he came in. However, the second I came out the back room from me lunch break, he came right over to me.
He isn't the first plainclothes officer to come in since Charlotte disappeared, but he is the first to seem to think that I know things that I won't give up in direct questions. His questions about succulents show a forced enthusiasm for botany betrayed by a background knowledge that could have come from a single online encyclopedia entry. I am open and engaging to his questions. I wonder what he really wants to know. Eventually he leaves after asking about my music taste and I tell him that I need to stop talking to help other customers; this adds a check to my list of uncanny things since the vast majority of my online presence has to do with discussing and creating experimental electronic music.
He might be trying to date me. I've heard that the agencies used to put people in relationships with their targets of inquiry when they think that they are really connected. What the hell was Charlotte up to? Who the hell do they think I am?
Charlotte always talked about how all of us are under surveillance all the time. She used to say that "they" were particularly interested in people who didn't like being watched. I haven't told anyone, but she gave me a hard drive before she disappeared. The papers showed her picture nation wide. The story changed to keep the news fresh, but the underlying message remained, "Let the authorities know if you've seen this person". At first they said she was a kidnapping victim, then a thief, and then an agent of various nefarious forces.
My take away was that whether Charlotte disappeared herself or someone disappeared her; someone else in power didn't know where she was and really wished that they did. Charlotte was kind of nuts, but in an engaging way. Even though her humor was really off putting, she seemed nice enough.
When I get home, there is a fix it ticket from the landlord taped to the front door. It says that he will need to have some guys come in and look at our plumbing; evidently the apartment downstairs is having water pooling at the bottom of their tub. My room mate Mike, who constantly smokes weed in the bathroom, says that the guys came in and looked around when he answered the door, but that they will need to come back later.
I go to my room, feeling a little bit unnerved, and look around. Nothing seems out of place, but there is just this sense that my space doesn't feel safe.
When I look at my device, one of the first posts that pops up at the top of my feed is about transonica and whether people think their live shows are good. The funny thing is that Charlotte and I went to a transonica concert. It was one of the few times we hung out outside of work that wasn't just grabbing a coffee. I wonder if I am going nuts, if I am having some sort of narcissistic delusion or schizoid apophenia making me see connections that aren't there.
I sit down and remember. Charlotte ran into someone she knew at the concert. Then later on she looked really afraid. I wonder what it meant. She disappeared two months later. Someone walked into the junior college library that looked like that same person. She stared at me for a while and walked away quickly.
My brother calls as I am making dinner. It is surprising because I haven't spoken directly to him in two years. "Hannah," he says, "I have a chance to come home next week. I was hoping that you'd be able to head back to Mom and Dad's and spend some time with me."
I say, "Of course. I miss you!"
He pauses, then says, "That co-worker of yours that went missing. You hung out with her a bit, didn't you?"
I don't let the concern into my voice when I say, "Yes."
"Did she ever talk politics with you?" he asks.
"Yes, she didn't think very highly of the ruling party or their coalition," I say. I am pretending to be ignorant of what is going on because I am growing more concerned by the second.
"I hope you'll bring some of your music with you when I see you," he ends the conversation abruptly and hangs up.
My device shows a message. The message is from a number that I don't know. It says, "Rad concert coming up Thursday, bromeliads included, bring the knowledge." Charlotte had a thing for bromeliads. The concert on Thursday is one a classmate is in the opening act of and I was already planning on going. I think that someone is pretending to be Charlotte. I think they want the hard drive. I think that they will disappear me if I bring it. I think that they will think that I am a part of something deeper if I ignore it; maybe they'll think that I actually have code words set up with Charlotte or something.
I look out my window and there is a van with tinted windows. If this is how the secret police operate, they are way too heavy handed. If you know you are being watched, of course you will act afraid. If you pretend not to be afraid, they will take it as guilt that you think that you earned being watched. My mind races on how to covertly convince them not to kill me or capture me or think that I know what the hell is going on. My device lights up unbiddened. I think it has malware that is taking my picture. Goddamn it Charlotte.
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[WP] You are a side character in a typical dystopian young adult novel. All your life been living happilly in the background but recently, the main character started talking to you more- you even got a an entire arc. But you suddenly realized: the author is bulding you up to be killed for the drama.
|
The tall strapping young hero put an arm on my shoulder as we vanquished the vile beast. "Well done, Bob. You've done really well."
"Thanks Thomas. I mean, that was fun. That was really fun. Beats hanging around the treehouse in the background all day."
"You know, Bob, you've been such a valuable player to the team. I don't know what we'd do without you."
*Oh God.*
"At the start you were kind of a self centred lone wolf who only fought for himself but now you have learnt to fight for the team."
*Oh no.*
"Your beautiful wife and two beautiful daughters, who miss you very much and would love to see you come home, are very lucky to have you as a father.
*Oh crap.*
"Now, why don't we march together to the lair of the Beast and fight the remaining horde so that we can escape this hell hole and return to our homes?"
"Great, Thomas, that sounds great," I said, picking up my spear. I looked cautiously at Thomas. "Say, I was thinking maybe I'll stay here, you know, and fix those leaks in roof of the treehouse. Looks like it might rain soon."
"Nonsense! We need your strength and valour on this mission."
"Excuse me for a moment," I said to Thomas. I looked up into the cloudless sky, wondering which direction to point, then picked a random one and shouted, "You can't do this to me! I've got a real fictional family now! They like me! I don't wanna go!"
"Bob?" Thomas said curiously.
"Shut up, Thomas," I said. Then I stuck the end of my spear into the ground, and threw my hands in the air. "It's no use. This is all arbitrary. One day we could be nothing and the next day the hero, and the next day dead. Only the heroes and villains stick around to the end."
Only the heroes and villains. Only they get to make it to the end. The hero, Thomas, had already been decided 15 chapters ago. But the villain had not yet been revealed, and for all I know not even determined. Perhaps there was still a vacancy.
I picked up the spear and walked towards Thomas. Thomas smiled and said, "Ready to fight?"
"Oh yes," I said. "I'm going to fight for my life."
|
For 12 excruciating years since the failed revolution, I’d been tirelessly slaving away for a measly can of anhydrous soup and a slice of bread. I slumbered on a cold, hard surface for precisely four designated hours under the watchful gaze of the commandant. With my callused palms serving as a cushion for my throbbing head, I often fantasized of a placid Eden, untethered by the clutches of this kleptocratic regime.
Every morning at 4:00 am a downpour of ice water awakened our chamber, doubling as our daily shower. We fell in line according to our assigned numbers and marched over to the factory to commence our 18 hour work day.
One seemingly typical morning, I was summoned to the commandants office. In a sonorous voice, the commandant read,
“No. 15 and No. 460, you have orders from the Superiors.The labor force is depleting. To remedy this problem, you two have been chosen to procreate, tonight.”
I felt a shudder up my spine, followed by sheer bewilderment. No.15 was a seasoned laborer with a much higher rank. How could this match be plausible, I wondered.
Without further ado, we were transported back to the factory for work. No. 15 walked over to me and offered help. He smiled, “Do you want to know my name?...Ahem.You’re kind of a loner huh?”
He leaned in closer and whispered,
“Gonna get you out of here. Tonight. A group of us have it all worked out.”...
“You know, I requested you. Us high rankers can choose our mate. I chose you.“
I lit up, smiled and muttered “Why me?”
“I wanted to help you. I like your face. It’s the trusty kind” he promptly responded. I was delighted at the prospect of escape and most importantly overjoyed to be deemed worthy of inclusion in such a bold plan.
Later that night, No.15 and I were escorted to the rendezvous room. The metal door slammed shut behind us, and we were alone. He embraced me and said “Hello. I hope you’re ready. We’re ditching this hell hole tonight”.
My hands were cold and trembling. He wrapped his burly hands around mine. I breathed a sigh of relief, feeling hopeful and comforted for once.
Suddenly, I felt his grip tightening and before I knew it, he had me in a choke hold with a sharp knife he had rigged up, pointed straight at my jugular. He sounded the fire alarm and a flurry of armed guards swarmed in. He screamed, “back off. You can’t afford to lose another one of us. I know work is lagging already. If you’re smart you’ll let me out of here.”
I was suffocating, my vision weakening. I had to think quick. I bit down on his arm with all my might, he howled, “You can’t stop me” and proceeded to thrust the knife in my right cheek. Bullets rained down on him, as I lay bleeding. His lofty attempt to use me as a scape goat to escape proved fruitless.
It’s been several years, but the infamous rebellion of No.15 lives on. I think about him from time to time, mostly wondering his name.
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[WP] You are a side character in a typical dystopian young adult novel. All your life been living happilly in the background but recently, the main character started talking to you more- you even got a an entire arc. But you suddenly realized: the author is bulding you up to be killed for the drama.
|
The easiest part was cutting myself off from him. It was simply a matter of not showing up.
I left a note tacked on the doorstep of the run-down warehouse on The City’s outskirts, as one does. Of course, writing a note in a world without easy access to paper or pen is rather… difficult but, after a brief trip into the overgrowth that was previously known as Washington D.C. to grab some leaves and a stick and a number of non-lethal cuts on the arm, I ended up with a note crafted with the sticky redness I’d already seen far too much of for one lifetime. It was crude, but effective enough.
The letter was filled with truths, half-truths, and outright lies. Here are the most important:
Truth – I didn’t like the way he was running the rebellion. He had started out with the best intentions, of course, but along the way… let’s just say he’s more like Them than he’d care to admit.
Half-Truth – I wanted nothing more to do with him. Now, love is a dangerous thing to speak of, but I really did love him. I wanted to love him again. But he isn’t who he used to be. Or maybe he was never who I thought he was.
Lie – I was going on a one-man raid against the compound. I’m not an idiot. One underfed, overtired insomniac would do nothing against the Overseers. I’d be dead before I even accessed the Inner Brain – before I’d hit the lobby, even.
I would not be content to rot with the forgotten.
I tacked my goodbyes on the door, and then I set out on the long path towards home. I let the guards take me at the border. They were content to believe I’d been brainwashed. I was put back into a cubicle and rebranded Employee 427.
At my suggestion, a prisoner who could reasonably pass for myself was dressed in my clothes and summarily executed on live television.
I slept soundly that night.
|
I looked at the grand tower as I heard the fighting break out, seeing that damm Graham trying to start a riot. I felt the gunshots running right by my face, honestly I'm not amused by the obvious foreshadowing.
"Come on just end it already, whatever god is out there." I said, looking up at the sky, noticing it was about to rain, perfect weather for a dramatic death. Looking back at the riot, Graham approached me, looking worried as all he'll. "Sid! We did it! The-" I watch in horror as I saw him fall to the ground. No words, cries, or whimpers before death. I looked down at him, as the bleeding came out of his head.
"W-what!? I was supposed to die not you!" I suddenly pull his corpse up and cry into the jacket, looking around to see who shot him... but the only thing around was me and the silence of the night...
"What did I do to deserve this!?" I put him down and sit, crying into myself now as I heard a dai r whisper in the night.... an unfamiliar voice, I couldn't hear it well but there were two words I could hear coming out of it.
The two words were plot and armor.
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[WP] Aliens arrived on earth, but they are super lame. The following decade after contact they take humanity as "the cool kids" and try hard to be like us.
|
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" replied his friend from the ground. "I'm sleeping. Duh."
He was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed as if he was resting in a coffin.
"But you \*can't\* sleep! Stop being an idiot! You know we don't sleep."
"Maybe \*you\* don't sleep, but I sleep all the time. I slept all day yesterday."
"Oh, really? All day?"
"Yep."
"As in \*all\* day?"
"Yep."
"24 hours?"
"Yep."
"There is \*no\* way you slept 24 hours."
"Well, I did, so..."
"You know humans don't even sleep for 24 hours, right?"
"Like you would know."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You don't even \*know\* any humans, do you?"
"I know just as many as you do."
"Hmph, in your dreams you do."
"I don't have dreams. And \*you\* don't have any human friends."
"Well, I do."
"Alright, then. What are their names?"
"What?"
"These humans you know, what are their names?"
"Well... There's Jeff."
"Jeff? Everyone knows Jeff! I'm asking who are all of these human friends of yours that \*I've\* never met!"
"There's, uhh... Titan."
"Titan?"
"Yeah, Titan."
"As in the moon of Jupiter, Titan?"
"Yep."
"You don't know anyone named Titan."
"Oh yeah? How would you know?"
"Because there's not a single person on Earth named Titan."
"Well, there is, so."
"Well, no. There isn't."
"Zzzzzzzzzz... Zzzzzzzzzz"
"What's that sound you're making?"
"Ah! Sorry, was I snoring?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm sorry if it bothered you. I'll try to stop."
"You realise that sounds nothing like a real snore, right?"
"Well, you're wrong."
"You're just making a buzzing sound! You're obviously just copying what you've read in books!"
"Sorry, going back to sleep. I'm \*so\* tired."
"Don't you da--"
"Zzzzzzzzz.... Zzzzzzzzzz"
"Fucking hell."
|
"I have heard that your civilization still actually fights each other on a global scale? I thought you have nuclear technology and miner space capabilities, why not use those."
"Well we do but then decided to stop using them. At the time only one group has them, now a bunch do so we stopped using them, though we have a lot just in case someone uses them on us. But ya I guess we still battle each other."
"wait hold up, you have the ability to destroy the planet which you will only use if some tries to destroy the planet first?"
"Ummm ya that sounds about right"
"But if the planets going to get destroyed why even still have them?
"If were going out might as well take them out with us."
"Remind me to never lose to a human. And your people still fight each other, why you cant even leave the planet with out help why not work together?"
" Oh we fight over everything you name it, resources, they way you look something you might say, or just cause we want to, it all depends on the person "
"Wow your people enjoy fighting?"
"Well we have been doing it for a long time so we got pretty good at it."
"How long our history has very little war due to the waste of resources we have only had two wars in the last century"
"I think since the beginning of man kind we have been fighting each other,
"what about the pain and suffering involved in war"
"I never said it was a good idea I don't make the decisions"
" Ah I see your leaders fight are your best fighters and battle on your behalf leading your warriors"
"Not really they make the major decisions for us and if that means we go to war then we go"
" So you fight just because someone tells you to, no questions asked."
" we ask questions but that is usually during and after the fighting"
"Thank you human for telling me about your species"
"no problem, though I am no one special you may want to talk to a someone within our government"
"We will, we conduct these interviews with random sentients to get a better understanding the planets cultures."
"Well we speak over 4,000 languages and probably have the same amount of cultures so it will probably take you a while"
" WHAT, you have more then 4,000 languages and still survive on your planet"
"Well I told you we do fight a lot"
"If i may use a human expression your race is "Bad Ass""
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|
[WP] Aliens arrived on earth, but they are super lame. The following decade after contact they take humanity as "the cool kids" and try hard to be like us.
|
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" replied his friend from the ground. "I'm sleeping. Duh."
He was lying flat on his back with his eyes closed as if he was resting in a coffin.
"But you \*can't\* sleep! Stop being an idiot! You know we don't sleep."
"Maybe \*you\* don't sleep, but I sleep all the time. I slept all day yesterday."
"Oh, really? All day?"
"Yep."
"As in \*all\* day?"
"Yep."
"24 hours?"
"Yep."
"There is \*no\* way you slept 24 hours."
"Well, I did, so..."
"You know humans don't even sleep for 24 hours, right?"
"Like you would know."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You don't even \*know\* any humans, do you?"
"I know just as many as you do."
"Hmph, in your dreams you do."
"I don't have dreams. And \*you\* don't have any human friends."
"Well, I do."
"Alright, then. What are their names?"
"What?"
"These humans you know, what are their names?"
"Well... There's Jeff."
"Jeff? Everyone knows Jeff! I'm asking who are all of these human friends of yours that \*I've\* never met!"
"There's, uhh... Titan."
"Titan?"
"Yeah, Titan."
"As in the moon of Jupiter, Titan?"
"Yep."
"You don't know anyone named Titan."
"Oh yeah? How would you know?"
"Because there's not a single person on Earth named Titan."
"Well, there is, so."
"Well, no. There isn't."
"Zzzzzzzzzz... Zzzzzzzzzz"
"What's that sound you're making?"
"Ah! Sorry, was I snoring?"
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm sorry if it bothered you. I'll try to stop."
"You realise that sounds nothing like a real snore, right?"
"Well, you're wrong."
"You're just making a buzzing sound! You're obviously just copying what you've read in books!"
"Sorry, going back to sleep. I'm \*so\* tired."
"Don't you da--"
"Zzzzzzzzz.... Zzzzzzzzzz"
"Fucking hell."
|
"You named yourselves the Smiths?"
John Smith waved a tentacle at the school counselor from their home planet of Monora. "Yes, we thought that by giving ourselves common names, we'd allow Kevin to fit in better."
The counselor, XII-V-1, winced. "Yes, but you're aware that Kevin Chen is a name usually given to families of Asian descent, whereas Smith..."
"Something's got to set him apart!"
XII-V-1 sighed. His job as an adjustment adviser for the Cross-Species Integration Bureau was hard enough as it was. "Trust me, Kevin doesn't need anything extra to set himself apart."
"Well," John said, "What should we do? He's not making many friends at school."
"Try to adopt their colloquial language," XII-V-1 coaxed. "Tell him to use phrases like 'it's lit'. Is he on the social media? Make sure he posts on Instagram, and gets contacts on Snapchat."
"Ah, yes," John said. "They've got a great filter for us!"
"I'm sure Kevin will be fine. And whatever you do, do *not* let him brag about how we could vaporize their planet in an instant. I find that this tactic almost never goes over well."
---
Shortie today! Thanks for reading :) find more stuff at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/)!
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[WP] Aliens arrived on earth, but they are super lame. The following decade after contact they take humanity as "the cool kids" and try hard to be like us.
|
"Hey, what's up dawg!" A random kid called me out and tried to do this weird handshake. This kid wore baggy pants like MC Hammer and sunglasses from Dollar Tree. "Everything's all hip and jive in Minnesota. First day of school?"
"Uhh, yeah. It's everybody's first day. Who are you?" I asked, trying to conceal my discomfort.
"My name is Bellair," he answered and started dancing like a rapper.
"Bellair? Like the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?"
"Yee, boi! Oh snap, I want you to meet my other friend," he tugged me over to his lunch table. Over there, a girl wore bling-bling like Madonna. She nodded her head to a big stereo on the floor. But, it was the AM radio... I tried to give a handshake. But, she went for a fist-bump and gutted me in the stomach.
"Hey dawg! My name is Madonna," she smiled while chewing some gum. Wow, her name is actually Madonna. Did these people escape from MTV? "We swinged here a month ago."
"Yeah, I thought you're new. Where you from?" I asked, while looking around the lunchroom for an escape route. Drats! All other seats were taken.
"From Venus-"
"Venice," interrupted Bellair. Hmm, they don't look Italian. He must've noticed my confused expression and gave an upset look to Madonna. He continued, "ahem, we love the chill weather here. Ten years and five days ago to be exact. So, we thought, why not live here?"
I slowly nodded my head as if in agreement. Right, the weather is 30 below zero. It's literally chilly, no human wants to live here. Wait a second, 10 years ago? These guys are 13 years old. So, when they were old enough to eat baby gerber and watch Sesame Street, they decided to live in one of the coldest parts in America?
"Join us for lunch bro," Bellair asked, gesturing to the seat next to him. Glumly, I sat down and slowly munched on my macaroni. I glanced over and noticed they pulled a ziploc full of... grass?
"Umm, is that salad?" I asked hesitantly.
"You can call that man!" Bellair answered proudly. "I believe you Americans call it hemp and weed! The magic stuff!"
PEEEWWWWT! I spat my food over the kid next to me. The kid gave an angry look and walked away. Bellair and Madonna continued to stuff their mouths with their 'magic stuff' like cows.
"Umm, that stuff is illegal," I whispered at them. They gave me a confused look.
"I heard this was the thing! Weed is hip and trip-"
"SHUT UP!" I hushed at them. "I don't want to get in trouble-. You know what? I don't want to be a part of this. It was nice meeting you. But, I'm done here."
"Wait Earthling!" Bellair yelled, tugging my hand. Did he just call me Earthling? That doesn't sound right. As if they realized they done something wrong, Bellair gave a worried look to Madonna. She nodded and turned the radio all the way up. Neon colors zinged out. And they glowed. ZAP! Suddenly, they dissolved into the air.
I sighed and returned to the lunch table. And then adjusted my flesh mask. First day of school is always weird. It's hard to fit in as a Martian.
|
"You named yourselves the Smiths?"
John Smith waved a tentacle at the school counselor from their home planet of Monora. "Yes, we thought that by giving ourselves common names, we'd allow Kevin to fit in better."
The counselor, XII-V-1, winced. "Yes, but you're aware that Kevin Chen is a name usually given to families of Asian descent, whereas Smith..."
"Something's got to set him apart!"
XII-V-1 sighed. His job as an adjustment adviser for the Cross-Species Integration Bureau was hard enough as it was. "Trust me, Kevin doesn't need anything extra to set himself apart."
"Well," John said, "What should we do? He's not making many friends at school."
"Try to adopt their colloquial language," XII-V-1 coaxed. "Tell him to use phrases like 'it's lit'. Is he on the social media? Make sure he posts on Instagram, and gets contacts on Snapchat."
"Ah, yes," John said. "They've got a great filter for us!"
"I'm sure Kevin will be fine. And whatever you do, do *not* let him brag about how we could vaporize their planet in an instant. I find that this tactic almost never goes over well."
---
Shortie today! Thanks for reading :) find more stuff at [/r/Remyxed](https://www.reddit.com/r/Remyxed/)!
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[WP] You are the last survivor of an expedition to discover the true origins of humanity. Upon your return, every religious leader, scientist, and world power is eagerly awaiting what you have to say. The truth was far more horrifying than anyone could have imagined. Should you tell them? Or lie?
|
Twenty years. It had been twenty years since the day I was selected for the mission to go to Alpha Centauri. Twenty years since our training, of the five smartest humans in the world, had begun.
Twenty years I now wish I could have spent enjoying my ignorance instead.
I am in the back room now. I watch the screen on the wall as a man in a suit tells me that I am to stand on stage in another ten minutes.
On televisions all across the world they are playing the videos of our group. A narrators voice going through each image explaining our past and our future.
I keep practicing in my head what I am going to say.
I stand before the representatives of the world named earth and I say," People of the world, I have found what we were looking for, I have found the secret of our beginnings as promised by the message we received. The technology worked as they said it would. I have the answers. The truth is...", and it is at this point that I choke up and find myself unable to go on any further, the point when the lies are supposed to begin.
I don't have a satisfactory lie for them.
I wish the agencies of some government would have taken me aside first, heard the truth so that they would agree to hide it and give me a lie to tell, or better yet, just put a bullet through my head. They didn't dare though, for fear of starting a war.
The world would have rather burned than to risk the truth being manipulated by an individual party, which was why I didn't even have the time to take off my space suit after decontamination procedures.
I start again, in my head. "People of the world, I bring you the truth. I am alone for the rest have killed themselves from what they heard. I do not wish to tell you what happened because I know you would befall the same fate."
No, that wouldn't work either. They would hold my tongue out if they have to for the truth. They just can't resist. They are too lost in their arrogance. In their delusions.
"Five minutes", the man in the suit speaks in my direction as he runs past on some other last minute errand.
I close my eyes and count to ten. A child's way of calming itself. Quite fitting under the circumstances.
"People of earth, I bring the end of the world upon my lips. I met our creators. No, I met our parents. The forefathers of our species.
They showed me that everything we believe about human nature, philosophy, life, all of it is wrong.
They were the perfection that we have all been striving for. Before them I felt like a empty vessel, like a man with half his body and mind missing who had never known this before.
We who looked upon them felt this way because it was the truth.
We come from the tumorous growth of our parent species. Evolution does not have the nature to keep evolving randomly, but does so with a direction. Entire entire world behaves like an uncontrolled tumor.
The perfection we chase after that we speak of as being always out of our reach is indeed so. Not because the ideal does not exist, but because we are incapable of reaching it with the permanent shortcomings we possess.
The closest thing we have to the perfections of our original species is our art. Which in comparison, even the best of it, is a demented mockery of the perfection that we have never really seen but we still feel a natural instinct to replicate.
We are not meant to die so fast, we are not meant to hate so easily, we are not meant to be lost and confused.
We are not the natural base that life leads to. Our makers are.
They showed me a million species across the cosmos. Hundreds of which I met during my time.
All members of their scientific community for they could not risk the trauma caused by us humans being seen in public.
In all these species was the same kind of perfection everywhere, in all of them.
They leave us be because we will soon get ourselves killed, unable to survive natural existence for long, and after seeing what I have seen, I agree."
I get a tap on my shoulder. "One minute, you are up.
I get up and walk to the curtains.
The spokeswoman is now speaking about how I am the only member of my group available now.
I look at the guard standing next to me, the gun holstered next to his hand.
I could reach it and pull it out if I wanted to. It should take me five seconds altogether to aim it towards my head and pull the trigger.
"Now I call Ms. Kante onto the floor."
The man in the suit waves at me to go.
|
**How did I get here? What am I doing here?**
I look up, and see a table in the form of a half circle that is a few feet higher up than I am. I look down, there is a microphone in front of me.
All the sudden, I hear a voice; "Did your hear the question?"
I look up again, and see the white, wrinkled face of the head of the board staring at me. I try to compose myself. "I'm sorry. Can...can you repeat the question?" The Secretary of State's eyes narrow, his lips purse, and he sighs.
"Captain Hue, your expedition is over. You have spent millions of dollars in search of answers. You, and the few remaining members of your party have told us that what you have discovered is of the greatest importance. As I previously asked, what have you discovered?"
My mouth opens, but no sounds leaves it. I try to extend my hand to grab the water glass next to me, only for it to halt before I can grab the glass.
The Secretary of State taps his finger, then says, "Well?"
My vision blurs, and the darkness returns. I am gone.
...
The entire counsel leans back in surprise as Captain Hue's eyes turn black, he screams into the microphone, and jumps on the table in front of him, "*Your minions have discovered us, and in doing so have opened the door to the ancient evil of our master!"*
As this happens, Captain Hue jumps a full 15 feet over the table and rips out the Secretary of State's throat with his teeth. The room erupts in screams of terror.
*"Tremble mortals, and despair, for DOOM has returned to this world!!"*
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[WP] You are the last survivor of an expedition to discover the true origins of humanity. Upon your return, every religious leader, scientist, and world power is eagerly awaiting what you have to say. The truth was far more horrifying than anyone could have imagined. Should you tell them? Or lie?
|
"What happened out there, Captain?"
A simple question, requiring an answer from me that was infinitely more complex than I was able to give. I was looking into the eyes of the best and brightest that humanity had to offer. Paragons of art, culture, science, the political leaders of earth. Most of them looked at me, wide-eyed like children, others were studying me, cold and calculating, schemes and plans already in place, whatever my answer was. But I knew they weren't ready for the answer.
Sure, there was some part of me, that was conditioned to submit to authority figures, conditioned to tell the truth and nothing but the truth of what went down, out there, in the vast emptiness of space. I could tell them, what we learned that would cause one of my Companions to put a bullet in his brain, what had reduced the other one to a screaming, gibbering shell of his former self. But I wouldn't. Deep down, I had already decided to keep this a secret, to cover up humanities greatest achievement with a lie. Wether this was was the right decision, I could not say, but it was my choice nevertheless. I took a deep breath, and braced myself for what would come next.
Then, I told a lie. I told a single, great lie, which I split up into a myriad of different lies, then wrapped them up in another lie. I twisted facts, made up new ones, and told the People of earth the worst Story they wanted to hear. Tall tales of a dead Alien civilization, ravaged by decades of intrigue, greed and war. How I found the knowledge they had left behind, for those that would come after them, those like us. How I learned that even they could not discern the universes origin, wether it was a grand design or random Chance, that birthed sapient life.
And the world believed me. Some were sad and disappointed, some were angry and fostered suspicions. But most of them, I think, were secretly relieved. A small part of them, some impulse in their lizard Brains, told them that they did not want to know the truth. They just wanted the next best thing, that made moving on a little bit easier. And I moved on too.
I did not desire the wealth and the fame that I could have had, and so the public forgot about me rather quickly. I bought myself a farm, got a dog, met my wife and together we had a daughter. It was not a whirlwind romance from the movies, but I had found someone, whose presence put me at ease completely. The years passed, and we grew older. I still woke up sometimes, sobbing, drenched in sweat, but I came to accept it, and somewhat made my peace with it.
Today, our daughter had come over, bringing her own children with her, to meet their grandparents for the first time. As I looked at the two toddlers, playing around on the lawn, my wife sat down next to me.
"You never did tell me what happened to you on that mission. I know there is more to that story than you ever told anyone, but at least tell me this. What is the meaning of it all? What is the point?"
I met her eyes, those mesmerizing eyes that I fell in love with all those years ago.
"This moment."
----------------------------------
Thank you very much for reading this!
If you want to read more of my work, take a look at my subreddit, r/Taspiwunder
|
**How did I get here? What am I doing here?**
I look up, and see a table in the form of a half circle that is a few feet higher up than I am. I look down, there is a microphone in front of me.
All the sudden, I hear a voice; "Did your hear the question?"
I look up again, and see the white, wrinkled face of the head of the board staring at me. I try to compose myself. "I'm sorry. Can...can you repeat the question?" The Secretary of State's eyes narrow, his lips purse, and he sighs.
"Captain Hue, your expedition is over. You have spent millions of dollars in search of answers. You, and the few remaining members of your party have told us that what you have discovered is of the greatest importance. As I previously asked, what have you discovered?"
My mouth opens, but no sounds leaves it. I try to extend my hand to grab the water glass next to me, only for it to halt before I can grab the glass.
The Secretary of State taps his finger, then says, "Well?"
My vision blurs, and the darkness returns. I am gone.
...
The entire counsel leans back in surprise as Captain Hue's eyes turn black, he screams into the microphone, and jumps on the table in front of him, "*Your minions have discovered us, and in doing so have opened the door to the ancient evil of our master!"*
As this happens, Captain Hue jumps a full 15 feet over the table and rips out the Secretary of State's throat with his teeth. The room erupts in screams of terror.
*"Tremble mortals, and despair, for DOOM has returned to this world!!"*
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[WP] You are the last survivor of an expedition to discover the true origins of humanity. Upon your return, every religious leader, scientist, and world power is eagerly awaiting what you have to say. The truth was far more horrifying than anyone could have imagined. Should you tell them? Or lie?
|
"What should I do?, What should I say?", I thought to myself out loud as I was prancing up and down of my command room deep in thought.
Taking a break from my thoughts, I glanced at the command module.
"4 minutes to Destination: Terra"
Shit. F\*\*\*.
What on earth should I do?
They, the United Nations of the world, sent me out to discover out civilisation's origin.
For as long as Man existed, we have always wondered how we came to be.
Many theories popped up, each with their own idea of our creator.
Eventually, due to all the fighting which accumulated in the Great War of 2077, the UN had enough of this religious fighting BS and set up a taskforce to study our origins.
And that was how I arrived to Unicornia.
A small, desolate planet, slightly smaller than the moon, It held an abandoned outpost that belong to what we call the Enclave, or the Engineers, since their technology was far superior to ours.
After probing around, I came across a lab.
Well, what used to be a lab.
Inside, I saw what appear to be baby fetuses.
A old computer was nearby and I managed to boot It up.
Inside, a file was already open.
It read (in rough translation to english):
\--------------------------------------------------------N.C.R REPUBLIC--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
\---------------------------------------------------May God be with us------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Log 1,5V9D, 54th cycle, 2nd quad cycle of 6790-(2345)
Subject: Weapon HU-M4N breakout
Shit. F\*\*K
On today's morning, weapon HU-M4N, subject 4-d4(M) and 3-v3 escaped lab 1.
It knocked out everyone, even the guards.
I can hear knocking on the door.
Probably waiting to kill me out of what I did to It.
Tell her I love her.
Goodbye.
\-------------------------------------TRANSMISSION END---------------------------------------------
I couldn't believe It.
We.
We were built as biological weapons.
That's when I heard the first shots, tearing down half of the outpost.
I scrambled to my shuttle and hi-tailed It out of there.
And that brings me to now.
I have no idea how I'm going tell them this news.
Because we are out-of-control weapons and our creators are coming for us...
​
\-------------------------------------TRANSMISSION END---------------------------------------------
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**How did I get here? What am I doing here?**
I look up, and see a table in the form of a half circle that is a few feet higher up than I am. I look down, there is a microphone in front of me.
All the sudden, I hear a voice; "Did your hear the question?"
I look up again, and see the white, wrinkled face of the head of the board staring at me. I try to compose myself. "I'm sorry. Can...can you repeat the question?" The Secretary of State's eyes narrow, his lips purse, and he sighs.
"Captain Hue, your expedition is over. You have spent millions of dollars in search of answers. You, and the few remaining members of your party have told us that what you have discovered is of the greatest importance. As I previously asked, what have you discovered?"
My mouth opens, but no sounds leaves it. I try to extend my hand to grab the water glass next to me, only for it to halt before I can grab the glass.
The Secretary of State taps his finger, then says, "Well?"
My vision blurs, and the darkness returns. I am gone.
...
The entire counsel leans back in surprise as Captain Hue's eyes turn black, he screams into the microphone, and jumps on the table in front of him, "*Your minions have discovered us, and in doing so have opened the door to the ancient evil of our master!"*
As this happens, Captain Hue jumps a full 15 feet over the table and rips out the Secretary of State's throat with his teeth. The room erupts in screams of terror.
*"Tremble mortals, and despair, for DOOM has returned to this world!!"*
|
|
[WP] You are the last survivor of an expedition to discover the true origins of humanity. Upon your return, every religious leader, scientist, and world power is eagerly awaiting what you have to say. The truth was far more horrifying than anyone could have imagined. Should you tell them? Or lie?
|
“You are not who you think you are”. In the end, it was all I could think to say. I’d had nearly a year in the isolation of deep space on the return voyage. No-one is supposed to stay alone for that long. We trained for close proximity to others, but I expanded into the void. I filled the silence with chatter to myself, movies and music when I ran out of things to say. As I got closer I began to pick up messages from Earth and watched them over and over. I was too far away to reply, but at least it was a new voice.
All that noise, all that talking, trying to maintain my mind, and now I was lost for words. My mind. What a joke.
“What do you mean?” The Lead Consul for Eurasia leaned in close, pushing aside the psychologist presumably advising him that the rocking, disheveled human in front of him was in no position to offer coherent answers.
I thought about lying, saying I’d met God. That’s what the Consul wanted. Eurasia had exploded back into a religious fervor not seen since the 21st century on the finding of “God”. Physicists described the unusually dense collection of small stars as an arrangement not entirely unlike the neurons in our brains. The Mind of God, as it became known captured the public in a way no story ever had. When news we could potentially reach it, using a Quantum Entanglement Drive, it became the primary driver of the entire world. I had long felt the only unifying force strong enough to bring the Earth together would be an Alien race to fight. In the end, it was the God I now knew did not exist.
“I met…”, I began, starting down a speech I had rehearsed dozens and dozens of times on the trip home. Time moving slowly, I could almost see the desire bloom in the Consuls eyes. Pupils dilating as he thought about the possibility that he would be about to go down in history. Anger flared, and my tall tale died in my throat.
“Your mind is not your own. And not because it’s the property of God. It's not your own, because it is nothing but a prison. A torture device. You exist only to punish another being.”
Confusion in the room. The psychologists speaking up again, this was evidence I was insane. The directors of the broadcasts arguing about whether or not to keep the feed live, or go to technical difficulties. The Premier of North America shushed them all with a wave. She gently moved the Consul to one side and looked into my eyes. She put her hand on my arm and spoke to me quietly.
“Please go on. You have something you need to share”.
I think she could see the pain in my eyes. I have no idea what impulse drove her to push to find out what had caused it. I found out later her son had recently passed. Perhaps she wanted to find out “why” more than most.
“The Mind of God, is a prison warden. That’s what I found. Human minds are designed to suffer. Our bodies to age, degrade and die. They use us to house the minds of criminals, whatever it is to be a criminal in their realm. They put them into our minds to feel trapped in our slow, small perspective. Our spans are so short, it may take many human lives, across many different times. We are nothing to God.”
The confusion bloomed to anger in some, despair in others. The feed was most definitely cut off this time. They needed time to position this, smear me, question my sanity, and rightly so after my return trip. I smiled to myself.
The Premier, the sharpest person in the room, I was beginning to understand, noticed my smile.
“What are you smiling about?” she asked.
“We are not alone. There is a higher species. There are also thousands of human worlds throughout the universe, and on those worlds are trillions of humans. All of them with a mind inside them, the like of which we cannot yet comprehend.” I had thought about this a lot.
“I think we may have the raw materials for a prison break.”
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
r/TallerestTales
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**How did I get here? What am I doing here?**
I look up, and see a table in the form of a half circle that is a few feet higher up than I am. I look down, there is a microphone in front of me.
All the sudden, I hear a voice; "Did your hear the question?"
I look up again, and see the white, wrinkled face of the head of the board staring at me. I try to compose myself. "I'm sorry. Can...can you repeat the question?" The Secretary of State's eyes narrow, his lips purse, and he sighs.
"Captain Hue, your expedition is over. You have spent millions of dollars in search of answers. You, and the few remaining members of your party have told us that what you have discovered is of the greatest importance. As I previously asked, what have you discovered?"
My mouth opens, but no sounds leaves it. I try to extend my hand to grab the water glass next to me, only for it to halt before I can grab the glass.
The Secretary of State taps his finger, then says, "Well?"
My vision blurs, and the darkness returns. I am gone.
...
The entire counsel leans back in surprise as Captain Hue's eyes turn black, he screams into the microphone, and jumps on the table in front of him, "*Your minions have discovered us, and in doing so have opened the door to the ancient evil of our master!"*
As this happens, Captain Hue jumps a full 15 feet over the table and rips out the Secretary of State's throat with his teeth. The room erupts in screams of terror.
*"Tremble mortals, and despair, for DOOM has returned to this world!!"*
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[WP] A popular new technology allows people to turn their consciousness off while at work, letting their bodies go on autopilot until the shift is over. One day when your consciousness returns, you're covered in blood and surrounded by dead coworkers, holding a note with a cryptic message on it.
|
The freezing, barren Antarctic tundra stretches out endlessly in front of me, the frozen wind hitting my face like nails being hammered into a plank of wood. I can feel my fingers and toes turning to useless hunks of meat inside my boots and gloves.
I clench my jaw and grip the stock of my M1 Garand, preparing myself for the final fight. The fight that will end this and send me back to the beginning, before the war and death and destruction now littering the battlefield. I gaze out at my fallen soldiers, their blood carving deep red rivers through the snow.
They will be avenged. They will not have died in vain. Not today.
I take a breath of rancid, cold air into my burning lungs, straighten my back, and step out from behind the protection of the icy boulder. I instantly tighten my grip on the rifle, my finger lingering over the trigger, ready to empty a clip into the beast towering before me.
For a moment, there is no cold or death or fear. It is only me, a solider pumped with adrenaline, my heart beating a million ticks a second, and him. The giant, white, fur covered monstrosity that’s tormented the Antarctic for over a thousand years. The beast that’s never before been seen by anyone alive today...because he disposes of every man, woman, or child who bares witness to his destruction.
His name...is *Hephaestus*.
I raise my gun and aim the barrel at his heart before he has a chance to take a step toward me. He stands twenty feet away, back hunched, hands the size of my head clenched tight at his sides, and foot long fangs wet with drool hanging out of his mouth. And his bulbous red eyes are pinned directly on me.
*Breathe. Aim. Fire.*
I don’t let another moment pass. I begin emptying the clip into his meaty chest, blood and fur flying sporadically into the dry Antarctic air. The sound of the bullets releasing from the chamber rip through the hairs lining the inside of my ears. I roar as I shoot, only pulling back on the trigger for a millisecond just so I can send another set of metal careening into the monsters flesh.
But as I empty round after round, he begins to pick up his paws, and run. The bullets aren’t slowing him down. They aren’t breaking through the muscle tissue and bone to puncture his vital organs. The sound of thunder echos through the tundra as his weight hits the ice, each step nearly cracking the ground in half.
I keep firing, hoping, *praying*, that one bullet will make it through and end his life for good so this can all be over. But just as he reaches my weak, helpless body, I hear the dreadful click of the gun. My chamber is empty. There are no more bullets. No more weapons. I have nothing left.
My heart plummets, all hope draining from my soul, as he lifts a leg the size of three of my men combined, and brings it plowing through the air, crushing every bone in my body.
—
I gasp, yanking at my sheets and pillow, throwing them clean off the bed. My heart is beating so fast it feels like it’s going to explode out of my chest and my entire body is drenched in sweat. I can feel it soaked through to the mattress, my hair sticking to my forehead.
I lay there for a moment in my wet bed, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. *Again*. That’s the fifth time I’ve had that same nightmare since we started developing this game. I run a hand over my face and rub my eyes. We have just two more weeks until everything is finalized and ready for beta. Just two weeks. Then maybe once it’s out there in the world it will quit haunting me. Maybe I’ll be able to live in peace, without Hephaestus controlling my brain.
I sigh and get ready for work, driving my same commute to the same office I’ve been at for three years now. At least GameCorp is up to par with other growing businesses and has the latest and greatest work-life balance technology for all employees to use. Maybe giving my mind a break from the dangerous world of dreaming will ease the nightmares away. Not that it’s helped before but there’s something about this new autopilot system that makes me feel whole again after work.
I sit down at my desk, giving a friendly wave to David who sits in the cube next to me, and pull on the AutobotWorker helmet. The sensors travel over my head, through my brown shaggy hair, and tingles shoot down my spine. Within seconds I can feel the machine taking over, sending my body on autopilot to touch up the physics of the guns, bullets and character movement within the game, while my consciousness drifts off into nothingness.
—
Fuzziness eats at the corners of my vision as I peel my eyes open, but...something isn’t right. I breathe and instantly cough, hacking on the rancid, thick air. I yank off the AutobotWorker helmet and throw it down, not caring where it lands. The office lights are busted out above me, a few of them sputtering and sparking on and off.
Panic blooms in my chest as my gaze falls to my computer. *Everything* on my desk is covered in...a sticky, dark red liquid. I swallow, taking short, shallow breaths, and turn around.
My throat closes up and my stomach clenches so tight I almost vomit. Everyone is dead. The entire office. Every single man and woman is strewn out on the dingy floor, their blood covering all the walls and furniture. I slowly glance to my right and David is laying on the ground, his eyes glazed over, staring at my shoes, with a metal rod protruding out of his collarbone.
I turn sideways and throw up. My breakfast and bile now piled on the floor next to my laptop bag. I gag and go to clench my fist through the agony but stop short. There’s something in my right hand. I spit on the now filthy floor and gape at the white, blood splattered sliver of paper in my hand. The life drains from my face as the words sink deep into my consciousness.
“Welcome to the game. It’s time to play. -Hephaestus”
**Hi there! If you’d like to read more of my stories, you can visit r/AliesStories :D I am super new to this whole writing prompt/reddit thing so all support is greatly appreciated! (:**
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\[POEM\]
"Sorry I left your friends dead
but at least now you can be well fed"
the note in my hands said,
as I stood beside the body of Ned.
Who was it that did this?
Who left me by all these corpses?
How'd they get in my office?
At least they left condiments.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Was gonna right more but I think that about covers it.
What is it with me and cannibals in poems? I'm a vegetarian, for God's sake.
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[WP] 1. Be polite. 2. Be efficient. 3. Have a plan to kill everyone you meet.
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*”Snipin’s a good job, mate,”* the gentle Australian began with a content sigh, sunlight sparking off his aviators as he drove across the sunny outback. Seated in the passenger side of his camper van was a thin man, with greased black hair and a camera in one hand, studying every word flowing past the stubble of the lanky Australian. The driver gently leaned into a right turn, flicking on the signal as he continued talking.
*”It’s challengin’ work, outta doors... I guarantee you’ll not go ‘ungry.”* Behind the driver’s head rested a rifle, the tip of his hat barely brushing against the barrel as he leaned back in his seat. Before the two lay only open road, their destination still many kilometers away.
*”Then what makes your profession any better than, say, that of a park ranger?”* The second man, the interviewer, cut in. He didn’t really care for the answer to the question himself, he had set himself to filmmaking long ago, all that mattered to him was the reaction. This little recording session needed to be profitable somehow.
*“Way I see it, long as ‘ere’s two people left on the planet, someone’s gonna want someone dead.”* The sniper responded confidently. The interviewer’s eyebrow rose slightly as he held the camera steady through another gentle turn. Not the answer he was expecting, clearly he’d need to dig deeper. The sniper gave a sort of pause before continuing. *”I’ll be honest with yah, my parents do* not *care for it.”*
*”Why’s that?”* The interviewer prodded, eyes sharpening. Perhaps he’d struck a nerve, something he could get real passion out of!
*”Me dad’s real unhappy ‘bout it, wants me t’ah go back to huntin’ game. Says I ain’t got no feelin’s.”* The Australian was sounding a little more fired up now, the gateway that the interviewer was looking for. The past half hour had been so dull to him, but now he was making headway.
*”And what do you say to that? Do you have feelings, Mister Mundy?”* The interviewer questioned, leaning a little closer with the camera.
*”Feelin’s? Look mate, y’know who’s got a lot of feelin’s?”* The Australian spat, glancing away from the road and into the camera for a split second. The interviewer could see the sniper’s hands clenching a little tighter against the steering wheel as he spoke. *”Blokes who bludgeon their wives t’ah death with a golf trophy. Professionals have* standards. *Be polite—“*, one finger rose of the wheel in emphasis, *“—be efficient—“*, a second pointed upwards,*“—and ‘ave a plan to kill everyone you meet.”* He finished with a third finger and a deep breath as he attempted to calm himself down.
The Australian was silent for a moment as he turned into the parking lot of an abandoned gas station and put the RV in park. The interviewer was practically glowing, his journalistic prowess has once again brought forth a gem. This would make a lovey piece.
*”We’re ‘ere.”* The sniper declared as he opened the driver’s side door and slid himself out, before reaching back up inside the car to pull his tried and word rifle out.
*”May I record?”* The interviewer questioned eagerly, not really caring what the answer was, seeing as he had plenty of film left and refused to let any of it be dry by the end of the day. The sniper lowered his head with a sigh, knowing his answer didn’t matter, the cameraman was too persistent.
*”Only if you promise t’ah be quiet.”*
**——————————**
*I couldn’t resist, I’m sorry >~< TF2 is my heart and soul, and it doesn’t help that my favorite writing exercise is putting scenes from movies into text. I appreciate you to the moon and back! Much love <3*
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''Are you certain that they are not one of us?''
He doesn’t want to believe it. He lived here for a long time and he made good friends and now he is having a hard time understanding why he has to do this. It is almost midnight and we have been discussing this for a while now.
''You don’t have to listen to me. There is proof on the computer and you can see it for yourself. They have been replacing people in this town. They are genetically almost identical to original human bodies but if you look closely you can see the slight difference between sample A and sample B.''
He opens the file on the computer and he looks into the lab results.
''This sample belongs to Henry Bruni. 29-year-old male works as an intern and he was admitted to hospital 4 years ago after the kayaking accident. This doesn’t include how did you get the sample B.'' he says.
I put out my cigarette and point the android which is standing offline currently, ''He helped me.''
''What? Did you really use that thing without my consent?''
''I know that you are angry for what I did but you have to focus on what is important here. I was able to write a code to alter android’s behaviour model but I need more than that.''
He looks down, ''I can’t promise anything but I will do my best.''
''Good, that’s all I can ask for. They’ve already invaded the majority of the population we don’t have much time left.''
He walks towards android, ''Do you remember the time when we first build a robot for a school project?''
I smile, ''Yes, I do.''
''We were only 9 years old and the rest of the school were looking at us amazed. Now, look at us. We are still building robots but we don’t get any recognition, we basically live in a basement. Where did we go wrong?'' He asks.
I sit on the computer and I start coding. Even though I don’t look at him I can feel he is looking at me.
We finish the first phase of our coding by the morning.
''Be polite is done. Now we need to make him efficient as much as possible.'' He says.
I sip my coffee, ''And he needs to have a plan to kill everyone he meets.''
----------------------------------------
**Thank you for reading the story**
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.*
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[WP] it turns out the Choosen One is a 100 year old arthritic grandmother with a bad hip
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"... So we come to you, Mother Maimi, The Chosen one, The People's Savior, to ask that you will travel back with us and thrust evil back into darkness."
&#x200B;
A frail veined hand reached up from the bed to a weather worn face. Her finger wiped a single tear that had cut a canyon through the dirt on his cheek. She loosened the bear skinned blanket and leaned to the adventurer kneeling bedside.
&#x200B;
"That's nice dear." She said.
&#x200B;
The adventures' eyes widened and darted around the room. He stood up and twirled around, his cape grazing a lit candle, creating dancing shadows throughout the room.
&#x200B;
"What does she mean by this!" shouted the adventurer. "I traveled over 60 moons to search for the Chosen One and this is what I'm told!"
&#x200B;
A woman stood in the doorway. Her hair was pulled back tight, she left her hands in the pockets of a white apron.
&#x200B;
"That just means she didn't hear you." The woman in the apron said. "Gotta speak real loud and real slow."
&#x200B;
The woman, with a bound that reverberated through the feet of the adventurer , was already leaning over the bed. "Maimi! Wake up. This. Young. Man. Wants. To. Talk. To. You." The adventurer, startled by the condescending nature of the woman in the apron, began to tip toe his way backwards towards the door.
&#x200B;
"Where are you going?" The woman in the apron motioned towards the adventurer. "You just gotta yell real loud and slow or she wont hear you."
&#x200B;
The adventurer adjusted the collar on his shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. "Maimi, we just want to ask you if you would..."
&#x200B;
"She's not gonna hear you when you talk like that!" The woman in the apron said. " You know what." She rolled her eyes at the adventurer. "I'll just tell her what you want or we'll be here all day. And I've got shit to do."
&#x200B;
"Yes of course... My apologies. I come from the Kingdom of Avonrauth and we---"
&#x200B;
"Alright just forget it." The woman in the apron took a large breath and sighed. "Maimi. This. Man. Says. You. Are. The. Chosen. One." She tilted her head to the adventurer, examining him from head toe . "He. Wants. You. To. Save. The. World."
&#x200B;
Maimi laid there smiling at the adventurer. "I will." She replied.
&#x200B;
"Hooray!" The adventurer leaped into the air as if he was a schoolboy again on winters first snow. "We shall leave at once for the distance is great and---"
&#x200B;
"She can't walk." The woman in the apron had finally revealed her hands. They now crossed her broad chest. "So you want to travel with Maimi, what did you say? Over 60 Moons? Then you better get some magic wielding fool to cast a spell 'cause my fat ass is not helping."
&#x200B;
"I have a carriage!" The adventurer said. "Waiting for us out front. Please just help me get her to it."
&#x200B;
The woman in the apron lips pucked as she stared beyond the adventurer towards the doorway.
&#x200B;
"My shift ended two minutes ago. Carrie will be here. She might help you if she can get around to it." The woman in the apron again bounded across the room. "But right now I'm taking my ass to the tavern."
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I fell out of the portal in the ceiling with a thunderous crash. I was still seeing stars as the blue vortex slowly closed above me. It wasn't my best landing. The Time Travelers' Guild prided itself on stealth, but I had always failed that particular class. Besides, current circumstances emphasized speed anyway.
"Marcy Winthrop!" I yelled. "We are in desperate need of your services!" There was no response. I took the opportunity to look around, and I saw that I had landed in a bathroom. But it wasn't just any bathroom; it looked like it had been constructed in the 19th century. In other words, it was the bathroom of an old person. That definitely didn't match our predictions, but I didn't have time to dawdle. I heaved myself from the ornate tub and walked through the door.
I found myself in a quaint living room, filled with gilded trinkets, a rustic grandfather clock, and a very old lady sitting in a rocking chair. She had more wrinkles than my timesuit, and believe me, it had been quite some time since I had ironed that thing.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" I said, remembering the twenty-first century etiquette I had shoved down my throat in school. "I'm looking for a Marcy Winthrop."
She slowly (and I mean *slowly*) turned her head to look at me. "Eh?" she said in her raspy old lady voice. "Can you speak up? My hearing's not what it used to be."
"I SAID, I'M LOOKING FOR A MARCY WINTHROP!" I admit I was getting impatient already. Old people are pretty rare in my time, so I wasn't used to dealing with them.
"Oh, yes, sorry, dear. That's me. Er, what did you need me for?" Her small eyes narrowed further. "Wait a minute. I don't remember inviting you in."
I wasn't really listening, because I was too busy double-checking my location tracker. I must have had the wrong Marcy Winthrop. Meanwhile, the ancient woman was attempting to get up from her chair, quite unsuccessfully.
"Now, you little whippersnapper, you better tell me why you've broken into my home!" She heaved a little bit more and managed to grab her walker and drag herself upright. "I'd beat you myself if my hip were still working!"
I wasn't much afraid of her threats. What I was afraid of was the fact that I hadn't made a mistake. According to our best calculations, this century-old woman was our best hope at defeating the incoming robot hordes. I looked up again. She had halted her quest to "beat me" in order to pick up her false teeth which had launched themselves out of her mouth. I stared blankly as she ever so slowly moved her hands along the carpet looking for them.
Maybe the robots would die of laughter?
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[WP] William Shakespeare goes to the future and attends a college Shakespeare Studies class.
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I live in a, how do I say this, "liberal" city. Be whoever you want to be so long as you don't fuck over other people. A fair and laudable way to be. So, you'll excuse me when I say that I assumed the man himself to be just a very enthusiastic fan of the Bard. Perhaps it is less forgivable that he sat right beside me and it was most evident that he ventured nowhere near a shower for quite some time. Again, who's to say it wasn't just a fan committed to authenticity. I've met stranger strangers.
"My friend," he said to me, the stench of London's finest cooks on his breath. "Mark the fair beauty that sits yonder." He seemed to point to... uhh... what was her name... and sighed. "To mount upon those peaks and see joyful hues in those fair cheeks." Good to know romance has more or less gone unchanged across the centuries. Before he had time to ask for where he can find her balcony, the lecturer shuffled her way onto the stage.
"May I?" He gestured to my notepad and pencil case. I fished out some spares and allowed his mind to be blown. "How is it one can write without need for reloading ink?" Yep, I still didn't realise who I was sitting beside.
The lecturer did that painful thing all stern but spineless school teachers do: passive aggressively glare at the class until the get the hint and shut the hell up. Once the lecture hall did wither to a silence. She began to drone on about *Twelfth Night*. Take my word for it, it's a delightful comedy and yet she made me want to bash my head in. An aside, if you want to enjoy literature avoid studying it. Ignorance is bliss. Oh, how blissful it would have been to ignore my neighbour.
"Countrywoman, how'st can it be that my mere comedy bears warrant for thine eye to lose itself in every line?" He raised a proud eyebrow and scribbled that line down. Self-important prick.
"Sebastian and Antonio," carried on the lecturer, "embody pure, platonic friendship in the play. Given the play's theme of gender and sexual confusion-"
"Away, you three-inch fool" Oh god, he was standing, index finger rigidly extended. "I pity thine unsound mind for you to be so blind to their day-clear love. So is mine intention and so is how it shall be read." That's when the penny dropped and marbles were lost.
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O Thou sick and twisted riff.
Gates doors chains stores tilde as wallow in spit.
Monster dread screeches and liars of hell a story I could tell .
But this good fellow Wordsmith learn of neither Smith it twas the rift .
Rimes streaks madness beckons modern Ears .
Demons sounds thine ears all must be daft to be alive and yearn.
Dream of me sweet notions
Me thinks I am the.
This has been a long time adjusting to the new year that I face the history of self. four years passed since I jumped the rift. No one recognizes me. But all knows me. I be bill. Not as I was. The William the master of the fools.
Modern day is scary. If I could find the rift hope that I could be there to be home.
Trip again back into the rift
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[WP] "You are him!" she said, with tear in her eyes. "You have no idea how long I have been looking for you. I was almost sure they killed you."
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Another man might be flattered at the words, touched by her concern for him. I was not another man, I was, all told, the man who had gone to great lengths, and almost ten million dollars, to have her think they'd killed me.
Another man would think I had gone insane. For she was as beautiful as the dawn. Had a mellifluous voice that could talk birds from the trees. Her scent was like weaponized sex, one could not help but be utterly enthralled by every aspect of her. Where Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships, she could drive two dictators to war over the thought of spending the night in her company.
So I hear you wondering, if she was so incredible, why would I go to such lengths to escape her?
She was the very Avatar of the concept that beauty is skin-deep. Her personality was a vile indecipherable possessive cruelty that knew no bounds. In life she was a driving force, compelling obedience with body and mind. In business she was a ruthless tycoon without a single moral qualm in her soul.
Even as I looked at her, her neck was crested with the fur of an animal that was certainly endangered and illegal to hunt. But still you might say, rich, beautiful what wasn't to love?
What wasn't to love was who she was away from the media. Away from the boardroom. A jealous and cruel woman who delighted in pain, and not hers. I bore scars across my body from her lash. I bore scars from teeth, cigarettes, knives and three low calibre bullet wounds, one from a .22 that had shattered my right orbital socket and nearly took my eye.
The tears.
I was shocked to see they were real, even as my heart began to pound like a drum out of fear for my discovery. I could not pretend I was anyone else, my scars marked me as surely as a tattoo of my name on my forehead would have.
"I'm so so glad I found you." Her words, liquid poison in my veins. I felt the poison eating at the walls around my heart. I began mentally laying another layer as I stepped back from her.
"I wish I could say the same Louise, but I can't." She stopped at my words, a look of confusion.
"What?! But i'm the best thing that ..."
"No you aren't, leaving you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You finding me, well that's about the worst." The look of shock on her face was marred by the jealousy twisting her expression. "I'm not coming back Louise."
I turned and headed for the door.
My heart lifted. I felt a weight fall off from my shoulders. I had said it.
Then I felt a new weight. It hit me in the back and cast me forward far faster than I intended. A bright blooming spot of pain. Then, finally, a recognition of the blast of raw primal sound. The ground leapt up to meet my face and I felt my cheekbone break.
The sound of her stilettos advanced upon me as I felt the cold creeping in.
"I loved you, you know," Her voice said, the tone itself almost seducing, "but I can't have people just leaving me, I can't have my toys deciding they don't want me to play with them anymore. And if I can't play with my toy anymore, then its time to break it so nobody else can either."
I saw the gun in her hand, no dainty little gun here. Just the hand-cannon she used for personal defence, a Colt 1911. Chosen for power and efficiency.
I could feel my blood draining from me and smiled at her.
"At least i'll still be free of you." My last words, uttered with my last breath.
One last fuck you.
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"No, I'm not"
The sentence left your mouth before you even knew that you said it. They were simple and easy words to make out, but even though you felt they had to be true, they still felt wrong.
It was a Tuesday. You were on your way home from a simple desk job. Sorting through bank statements and filing papers had gone about as well as it usually does, and the walk home was about as normal as could be until this very moment.
As soon as you said it, she let go, and she fixed her eyes on yours. As her joy slipped into confusion, the smile hurt more and more, and the ocean of her deep, blue eyes came to a halt, as the rivers they let forth suddenly became somewhat dry.
"But... but you..."
The words weren't actually there. Her mouth was moving, her voice was fighting to make a sentence to tell you that you must be wrong. Her mind tried to reconcile the image in front of her with a long-lost memory, but you stood there, looking like an idiot as she continued to stare at you with pleading eyes that asked you to say something else.
But you didn't.
You don't know how long she stood there. But as the seconds started to feel more and more like hours, you left. Your typical walk home for a Tuesday afternoon continued, uninterrupted.
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[WP] "You are him!" she said, with tear in her eyes. "You have no idea how long I have been looking for you. I was almost sure they killed you."
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Another man might be flattered at the words, touched by her concern for him. I was not another man, I was, all told, the man who had gone to great lengths, and almost ten million dollars, to have her think they'd killed me.
Another man would think I had gone insane. For she was as beautiful as the dawn. Had a mellifluous voice that could talk birds from the trees. Her scent was like weaponized sex, one could not help but be utterly enthralled by every aspect of her. Where Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships, she could drive two dictators to war over the thought of spending the night in her company.
So I hear you wondering, if she was so incredible, why would I go to such lengths to escape her?
She was the very Avatar of the concept that beauty is skin-deep. Her personality was a vile indecipherable possessive cruelty that knew no bounds. In life she was a driving force, compelling obedience with body and mind. In business she was a ruthless tycoon without a single moral qualm in her soul.
Even as I looked at her, her neck was crested with the fur of an animal that was certainly endangered and illegal to hunt. But still you might say, rich, beautiful what wasn't to love?
What wasn't to love was who she was away from the media. Away from the boardroom. A jealous and cruel woman who delighted in pain, and not hers. I bore scars across my body from her lash. I bore scars from teeth, cigarettes, knives and three low calibre bullet wounds, one from a .22 that had shattered my right orbital socket and nearly took my eye.
The tears.
I was shocked to see they were real, even as my heart began to pound like a drum out of fear for my discovery. I could not pretend I was anyone else, my scars marked me as surely as a tattoo of my name on my forehead would have.
"I'm so so glad I found you." Her words, liquid poison in my veins. I felt the poison eating at the walls around my heart. I began mentally laying another layer as I stepped back from her.
"I wish I could say the same Louise, but I can't." She stopped at my words, a look of confusion.
"What?! But i'm the best thing that ..."
"No you aren't, leaving you was the best thing that ever happened to me. You finding me, well that's about the worst." The look of shock on her face was marred by the jealousy twisting her expression. "I'm not coming back Louise."
I turned and headed for the door.
My heart lifted. I felt a weight fall off from my shoulders. I had said it.
Then I felt a new weight. It hit me in the back and cast me forward far faster than I intended. A bright blooming spot of pain. Then, finally, a recognition of the blast of raw primal sound. The ground leapt up to meet my face and I felt my cheekbone break.
The sound of her stilettos advanced upon me as I felt the cold creeping in.
"I loved you, you know," Her voice said, the tone itself almost seducing, "but I can't have people just leaving me, I can't have my toys deciding they don't want me to play with them anymore. And if I can't play with my toy anymore, then its time to break it so nobody else can either."
I saw the gun in her hand, no dainty little gun here. Just the hand-cannon she used for personal defence, a Colt 1911. Chosen for power and efficiency.
I could feel my blood draining from me and smiled at her.
"At least i'll still be free of you." My last words, uttered with my last breath.
One last fuck you.
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Omnibus turns around as he hears her voice yell out to him, his glowing orange eyes looking upon her with some curiosity.
"It's been weeks! We assumed the worst!" She is openly crying, not bothering to keep up the stoic façade she employs around civilians.
He shakes his head, his pink-highlighted white hair waving in the non-existent wind. "You should know that I cannot be killed as your kind can, Shatterpoint."
"B-But there were so many of them! Even Camelot had to retreat!"
"The current Camelot is still inexperienced in combating the denizens of the Beyond. He made the right decision to leave it up to me."
"But we saw them swarm you! No-one can survive that! Not even my Dad!"
"I am not your father. As powerful as he is, he is still mortal. I am not. They damaged me greatly, yes. But I prevailed, and the invasion was curtailed. I apologize for having taken this long to reconstitute."
*He sees a flash of dark red hair as the tall human woman rushes to him and hugs him*
"...I'm just glad to see that you are alright, Omnibus."
The four-winged angel smiles as he hugs her back, the warmth of her electrically charged body seeping into his ancient body.
"I am glad to be back, Marieke."
---
So, this is kinda short. But I had the vague idea for a character and this prompt gave me the chance to use him! I'm open to feedback, of course.
For more of my stories, you can come visit my subreddit, r/thomasdimensor
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Edit: well this blew up
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[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
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The first time I noticed it was when she really wanted this toy she saw on TV. Then poof, there was a present on the floor in the middle of the room. Before then, I had noticed little things, but nothing more then her eating a random cookie or cake even though there were none in the house.
"Daddy," she had spoken a little concerned, "did you get me a present?"
Her four year old face was filled with fear at the sudden appearance as my face probably looked exactly the same. I quickly put on a smile, "yes honey, why don't you go open it."
She grinned suddenly and ran over to the present and started tearing the pretty pink paper off and squealed in joy as the toy she had just seen on TV was in front of her. I starred at it, wide eyed, my stomach turning as I watched my little girl pull the box open. It was real, it had just happened. It wasn't just food she could make happen, it was things as well.
As she got older she started making other wishes. One day the kitchen was full of all her favourite snacks after she said she was hungry. She thought it was brilliant and thanked me over and over. Then one day she wished we would move to a pink farm house that had massive bedrooms and lots of horses. We went from living in a small flat in the middle of the city to her dream house and ranch on the outskirts (she still wanted to be near her grandparents).
Nothing had been too terrifying about her powers. I had kept her away from scary and violent TV shows and movies, only allowing her to read nice things. We had one scary moment when she was five and had been read a scary book in school. She had created the monster by accident, because she thought it was real, it became real. Luckily I had managed to make her wish it away, but I had pulled her out of school ever since. The outside world existed, but it was starting to change a lot. Even though she wasn't part of that world much anymore, she was still wishing changes. The first time a flying horse flew over the house had been a shock. Then when our geese started laying golden eggs. I had to make sure only ours was the one doing that and luckily it was.
Morning came and my seven year old bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. I laid out breakfast in front of her. Eggs, bacon and a waffle. She was wearing a pretty pink princess dress with leggins underneath. I smiled at her as she turned the TV on and one of her shows came on. My Little Pony. One day she would figure out I had been keeping all the scary stuff hidden from her, but for now, she was happy being a little girl, riding horses and believing that I was the best daddy in the world. One day she was going to figure out that she was essentially god, but until then, I just wanted her to be happy. I just hoped I could teach her to become a good person, a kind person who just wanted what was best for our world, for everyone. She would be the one to save the human race from itself, I knew she could do it, but not now. Right now, she was just a child. I smiled as she asked if there was anything I wanted for my birthday. It was tomorrow. I wanted my old dog back and I told her, knowing that tomorrow, I would see my dog again.
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“Thanks Dad, you’re the best!”
Lacey squeaks as she skips around, her pink tutu twirling with her in excitement.
I always wondered when her powers would begin to get out of hand. Hell, i remember wondering if they were even real, or if Martha was just being the nit case she always was. Ever since we started dating, she would drop hints about her being born into a family of mages, and eventually would insist to me that she has powers, as would our child, but i never believed her.
That’ll always be my biggest regret... never taking her seriously. I wish she could be here with us, just one more day.
I was abruptly yanked from my thoughts and brought back to reality as a giant bounce house was being brought into the middle of my living room. Lacey came running up to me, her small hands holding as much cotton candy as they could handle, giving me the most hyper, sugar-induced grin, then took off to go play in her new bounce house.
I don’t know how i’ll ever manage to tell her that it’s not me giving her all of this. Everyone keeps giving me so much praise for giving my 7 year old daughter whatever she wants, in hopes of her coping with her mother’s death. I want to tell them the truth so badly, but no one would ever believe me. I mean, I wouldn’t believe someone who told me their daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true. In fact, i would try getting them admitted into the nearest mental hospital.
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Edit: well this blew up
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[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
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I was standing by the security door, taking a deep breath, before giving the clear signal to the guard behind the bulletproof glass. With a loud click and beep, the door to experiment 1777, code name "Wishing Well", unlocked. Though to me, the 11 year old girl who was sitting there waiting for me every day, was called Alice.
Alice had been made with special powers, anything she wished for came true. Though her powers had it's price, wishing for say a cupboard full of chocolate cake might just give her a headache, but larger things, like turning the facility pink, or replacing the gym with a horse ranch, would make her pass out for a day or two. Though the biggest incident was probably when she wished for a friend.
She was kept in isolation, after she wished some of the other experiments gone, she has apparently caused 5 kids to die or plane not exist anymore. Being isolated from other kids, she did what any lonely 7 year old would do, she wished for a friend, after which she apparently collapsed and got really sick, hanging between life and death for about a month. Though for me that month started out with the army knocking on my door, flying me to a top secret bright pink facility on the other side of the country, getting security clearance, being briefed on what was happening in and around the facility, and that my new job was to be experiment 1777's friend, while at the same time be the interface between her and the scientists. It has been 4 years since then, and now I'm also her father apparently, she even somehow managed to change my DNA to match hers.
I entered the cell, the walls were currently a deep blue, meaning she was either feeling lonely or sad, or both. As she saw me enter the walls turned a brighter lighter blue, so mostly loneliness today I guess. "Hi darling, how are you today?", "I'm fine a guess, though I wish I could.." I took a deep breath, but she managed to stop herself, pulling on the thick metal collar around her neck, before continuing "I wanted to see the sky and the sun today", "I know sweetie, though it's only a few more days till Tuesday, when you will be allowed in the courtyard", "yes, but it rains on Tuesdays, and I'm sure there the sun is out today" "hmm, maybe if you are nice to the doctors today, then I can ask them to let you out for a short peek? What do you say about that?" She made a grimas, "it's Julien and Peter today, they aren't that bad now are they?", "Hmm, okey, I'll try to be nice today, aaaaas long as there is no needles today."
The day went by, we talked and played, and I helped her with her homework. Later right before the doctors came for the checkup, I quietly muttered, "I wish Alice does not have to take any needles today", a moment later when Peter and Julien entered, Julien suddenly exclaimed "Damn I forgot to bring syringes" "damn, seems we will not do any blood tests today". I looked at Alice who smiled back at me. The rest of the exam went by smoother than normal. Right before the doctors left, I pulled Julien to the side, "hasn't Alice been good today? We both wish we could go out and see the sun today, is that something you could help us with? Aaaand I will not tell anyone you didn't do the blood tests today?" "Hmm, it would have to wait till almost sunset, the other kids are using the yard today." "Sunset is even better, I guess Alice as not seen the sunset in years, if ever, right?" "Fine I'll see what I can do, but you are going to owe me a few more favors on top of this." "That's fine, thank you so much!"
Then a few hours later Julien opened to door, "I can give you a few min if you are quiet and come quick. And with that we miraculously made our way to the yard. The heavy steel door opened, and Alice gasped as she could the beautiful red sunset. A real smile across her face, it's so rare to see her like that. I wished she could smile like that every day. We took our time watching the sunset while I tried to savored the moment, and trying to build up the courage to do what I knew I had to do. I went down on my knees, "Alice will you give me a hug please?" "Why?" "Just do it, please." She came over to me, and I hugged her tightly, "Hey, you are choking me" she laughed. Meanwhile I started to speak loud and clear "I Wish, from the bottom of my heart, and with all my strength" now was the test to see how much of her abilities I got when she made me her dad. "That my beloved daughter, Alice," "Hey, what are you doing?" Alice tensed up. "Will live a happy and good life, as a normal girl" "dad stop, you can not do this!" "Far away from here, somewhere where she will not be experimented on and where she can be truly safe," "you'll die!" "And I will take her place, and become experiment 1777." There I did it, I finally did it! The world started to spin around me, I hoped it was enough, I gripped Alice tightly, she was crying, then, suddenly I was only holding air, she was gone. I made a final wish as the world turned black, I wish, if she is gonna disappear from our memories, that I would at least remember her smile as she saw the sunset.
|
“Thanks Dad, you’re the best!”
Lacey squeaks as she skips around, her pink tutu twirling with her in excitement.
I always wondered when her powers would begin to get out of hand. Hell, i remember wondering if they were even real, or if Martha was just being the nit case she always was. Ever since we started dating, she would drop hints about her being born into a family of mages, and eventually would insist to me that she has powers, as would our child, but i never believed her.
That’ll always be my biggest regret... never taking her seriously. I wish she could be here with us, just one more day.
I was abruptly yanked from my thoughts and brought back to reality as a giant bounce house was being brought into the middle of my living room. Lacey came running up to me, her small hands holding as much cotton candy as they could handle, giving me the most hyper, sugar-induced grin, then took off to go play in her new bounce house.
I don’t know how i’ll ever manage to tell her that it’s not me giving her all of this. Everyone keeps giving me so much praise for giving my 7 year old daughter whatever she wants, in hopes of her coping with her mother’s death. I want to tell them the truth so badly, but no one would ever believe me. I mean, I wouldn’t believe someone who told me their daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true. In fact, i would try getting them admitted into the nearest mental hospital.
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Edit: well this blew up
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[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
I was standing by the security door, taking a deep breath, before giving the clear signal to the guard behind the bulletproof glass. With a loud click and beep, the door to experiment 1777, code name "Wishing Well", unlocked. Though to me, the 11 year old girl who was sitting there waiting for me every day, was called Alice.
Alice had been made with special powers, anything she wished for came true. Though her powers had it's price, wishing for say a cupboard full of chocolate cake might just give her a headache, but larger things, like turning the facility pink, or replacing the gym with a horse ranch, would make her pass out for a day or two. Though the biggest incident was probably when she wished for a friend.
She was kept in isolation, after she wished some of the other experiments gone, she has apparently caused 5 kids to die or plane not exist anymore. Being isolated from other kids, she did what any lonely 7 year old would do, she wished for a friend, after which she apparently collapsed and got really sick, hanging between life and death for about a month. Though for me that month started out with the army knocking on my door, flying me to a top secret bright pink facility on the other side of the country, getting security clearance, being briefed on what was happening in and around the facility, and that my new job was to be experiment 1777's friend, while at the same time be the interface between her and the scientists. It has been 4 years since then, and now I'm also her father apparently, she even somehow managed to change my DNA to match hers.
I entered the cell, the walls were currently a deep blue, meaning she was either feeling lonely or sad, or both. As she saw me enter the walls turned a brighter lighter blue, so mostly loneliness today I guess. "Hi darling, how are you today?", "I'm fine a guess, though I wish I could.." I took a deep breath, but she managed to stop herself, pulling on the thick metal collar around her neck, before continuing "I wanted to see the sky and the sun today", "I know sweetie, though it's only a few more days till Tuesday, when you will be allowed in the courtyard", "yes, but it rains on Tuesdays, and I'm sure there the sun is out today" "hmm, maybe if you are nice to the doctors today, then I can ask them to let you out for a short peek? What do you say about that?" She made a grimas, "it's Julien and Peter today, they aren't that bad now are they?", "Hmm, okey, I'll try to be nice today, aaaaas long as there is no needles today."
The day went by, we talked and played, and I helped her with her homework. Later right before the doctors came for the checkup, I quietly muttered, "I wish Alice does not have to take any needles today", a moment later when Peter and Julien entered, Julien suddenly exclaimed "Damn I forgot to bring syringes" "damn, seems we will not do any blood tests today". I looked at Alice who smiled back at me. The rest of the exam went by smoother than normal. Right before the doctors left, I pulled Julien to the side, "hasn't Alice been good today? We both wish we could go out and see the sun today, is that something you could help us with? Aaaand I will not tell anyone you didn't do the blood tests today?" "Hmm, it would have to wait till almost sunset, the other kids are using the yard today." "Sunset is even better, I guess Alice as not seen the sunset in years, if ever, right?" "Fine I'll see what I can do, but you are going to owe me a few more favors on top of this." "That's fine, thank you so much!"
Then a few hours later Julien opened to door, "I can give you a few min if you are quiet and come quick. And with that we miraculously made our way to the yard. The heavy steel door opened, and Alice gasped as she could the beautiful red sunset. A real smile across her face, it's so rare to see her like that. I wished she could smile like that every day. We took our time watching the sunset while I tried to savored the moment, and trying to build up the courage to do what I knew I had to do. I went down on my knees, "Alice will you give me a hug please?" "Why?" "Just do it, please." She came over to me, and I hugged her tightly, "Hey, you are choking me" she laughed. Meanwhile I started to speak loud and clear "I Wish, from the bottom of my heart, and with all my strength" now was the test to see how much of her abilities I got when she made me her dad. "That my beloved daughter, Alice," "Hey, what are you doing?" Alice tensed up. "Will live a happy and good life, as a normal girl" "dad stop, you can not do this!" "Far away from here, somewhere where she will not be experimented on and where she can be truly safe," "you'll die!" "And I will take her place, and become experiment 1777." There I did it, I finally did it! The world started to spin around me, I hoped it was enough, I gripped Alice tightly, she was crying, then, suddenly I was only holding air, she was gone. I made a final wish as the world turned black, I wish, if she is gonna disappear from our memories, that I would at least remember her smile as she saw the sunset.
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As the last of the candles was blown out, along with it was the extinguished happiness from everyone in the room.
They waited in baited breathe as she rose from her seat.
18 years old. She is now a woman. Free to make her own choices.
This was truly terrifying. The laws they had made around restricting her powers had been under heavy legal debates, and ultimately she is the most dangerous weapon the world has ever seen.
The last 11 years had seen her become completely isolated, as she had accidentally wished her parents would "go to hell" during a typical teenager tantrum, and the floor swallowed them whole, engulfing them in flames and screaming as their skin melted before her eyes. Life and death are irreversible. Her first boyfriend who had cheated on her, had his own explode on a school bus killing 3 others along with him, as she went on a mad, heartbroken tyrant. No one dared to be her friend. No one dared to be near her. She could not be captured or imprisoned, and every time she did something "good it backfired". She had tried to end world hunger by wishing for it, but the side effects meant that everyone became obese and started dying. She wished people could all be healthy and eradicate disease, but then new phenomenoms started, and flesh-eating bacterium began replicating and adapting killing millions as each strain was so vastly different her wishes needed to be so specific she could no longer cure it.
She currently has a chip in her brain, that monitors her thoughts, as a result of the Tower Bridge in London being turned into marshmallows accidentally during a family holiday, her parents agreed to it to keep the world safe. This chip can be wished away upon her turning 18.
She smiles as she stands, a sick, tormented smile. Twisted and distorted far from recognizable from the little girl 11 years ago who got her favorite pony, she begins to laugh sadistically.
"I wish to rule the world".
It was her time to shine.
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Edit: well this blew up
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[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
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“Thanks dad you’re the best” Ana said as she went up to hug her new horse today. She was so happy and I love to see her like that but it is so difficult to parent her if your child gets whatever she wants. It is even more difficult to fend off and hide from the people that are constantly chasing her, especially while living in a bright pink house with a Farris wheel in the background, all the while trying to hide the fact that Ana is being constantly hunted. Every single time she sees and new thing she wanted or was suddenly on a new fair ride, and every night she goes to sleep she says, “thanks dad you’re the best!” . Little she knows of the gun locker I keep or the defensive perimeter around the house. Every night the men dressed in black, the grave amassing in the forest behind the house, it will lead no where good and hopefully she never stops saying “thanks dad you’re the best”. However as they close in around us I fear it could be the last, finally they close in all around us and hopefully I can talk to you again but it is becoming less and less likely, Ana is up in her room now only one stairway away and yet I don’t think I will be able to see her again, it is over for me, and my only wish, to hear her say it again, “thanks dad you’re the best”
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I'm not a writer, but this is a great prompt. I saw, in the distant echo of my youth, a Twilight Zone TV episode based on a similar premise. It did not end well.
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Edit: well this blew up
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[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
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Dearest Olivia,
I've been alive for thousand of years, and they think I'm dead. I guess it makes sence I have been living on the ranch since she decided I was her father. The Immortal In Memoriam just sounds stupid. Don't get me wrong it was beautiful, but I never imagined having to watch my own funeral.
I am sorry I haven't, couldn't reach out to you sooner. The public can think I am dead but not you, never you. I have a duty, I have to save as many lives as possible.
She thinks it is me. It gets confusing sometimes. "Daddy, why did you do that", I don't fucking know. Everyday she remakes our little world here, it is spectacular yet terrifying. My curse protects me but it hurts everytime. It took me almost 2 years to convince her that I don't sleep when she does. I have not slept since, I think 3 months now, it is getting hard to think sometimes. I wish I could fall a sleep in your arms.
I have been figuring out how far I can get before she wakes up. I found a mailbox yesterday. I hope this gets to you. Don't tell anyone, she would not respond well to someone coming for her "Daddy".
Know that I love you. Be safe, stay away. I will get out of here, as of yet noting has worked. She just thinks it is a new game.
Love always and forever.
Cain
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I'm not a writer, but this is a great prompt. I saw, in the distant echo of my youth, a Twilight Zone TV episode based on a similar premise. It did not end well.
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
[SCP-239](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-239)
|
I'm not a writer, but this is a great prompt. I saw, in the distant echo of my youth, a Twilight Zone TV episode based on a similar premise. It did not end well.
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
Age 5
“Daddy, you really did it! You made my room all pink!”
I stood there, dumbfounded, as my daughter wrapped her arms around my leg. This, finally was proof, after months of odd situations.
*“I wish it wouldn’t rain tomorrow.”*
*“But Olivia, it’s rained six days in a row. The forecast says it will rain tomorrow.”*
*“Well, I don’t want it to.”*
And so the day after that, miraculously the clouds had completely dissipated, and a random heat wave had hit the county.
*I’m going to have to be careful with what she wishes for,* I thought.
\-
Age 15
When she was fifteen, she screamed at me,
“Stay away from me! I never want to see you again.”
And just like that, the company set me on a series of never-ending business trips, one weekend after the other. I went from Boston to Munich to Delhi to Hong Kong. I finally had to explain it to my wife, and apparently one night, Olivia cried and said she missed me, and wished she could hug me.
The next day, the conference I was in was cancelled, and fifteen hours later, I was back home, having spent an average of 16 hours a week for the past two months.
Yeah, fifteen was a tough time to get through, for me and her.
\-
Age 25
“Why didn’t you tell me before, Dad?”
“I don’t…know. I just thought that if you lived your life without knowing, you would be able to have a good life, because things you wanted would happen.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“I wish I had another one for you. I guess…I was scared of this too. Watching your daughter become a superhero, nothing prepares you for that. It’s just so…”
“Dangerous?”
“Yeah,” I said.
And then she said it, the only time I’ve ever heard her wish for something she already had.
“I wish you would just trust me, Dad.”
\-
Age 35
“Come on, ask me for something, Dad.”
“No, that’s not right.”
“All the people I meet, and I can’t help you out? Please, Dad, let me feel better about standing you up for dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, honey. I’m proudest and happiest just seeing you…be you. And the fact that you're busy is good. It means you're making the world better.”“That’s not a good enough answer. Come on, don’t make me say it.”
“Honey, please.”
“I wish you would tell me what you want.”
I was silent for a moment, and then the words slipped out.
“I want…to be happy even when you’re not around.”
Then she was silent for a moment.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t know if it’s something you can make come true.”
“Then let’s see. I wish you could find happiness, a happiness that lasts.”
\-
Age 45
Now, I tell her that she did make it come true, that my last few years have been great, living in the home, having friends again after so long.
“I should have been here more often, Dad.”
“No. You were out, saving the world.”
“This life, this job…it’s been so hard these last couple years, Dad. It takes so much out of me.”
“Then wish for something else,” I say, another coughing fit hitting me right after.
I know it hurts her, having to look at me like this. She can wish for physical phenomena, but in matters like this, there’s a limit. It’s almost my time to go, and she knows it has to be this way.
“Do you need anything, Dad?” she asks, quietly, looking out the hallway, perhaps, for a doctor.
“No, I’m fine, honey.”
We sit in silence for a long time, and I wish, desperately, for words to make her laugh again.
“Actually, can I ask for one last thing, honey?” I say.
“Anything.”
“Would it trouble you to not wear makeup when you come to see me? I want to see your real smile.”
She looks at me, and then grabs a towel off the rack. She wipes her face, almost comically, and I can’t help but laugh, trying my best not to fall back into coughing.
“Is this better?” she finally asks, mascara and lipstick all over.
“That’s perfect,” I say. “I can’t say I want anything else.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
I'm not a writer, but this is a great prompt. I saw, in the distant echo of my youth, a Twilight Zone TV episode based on a similar premise. It did not end well.
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
She was fuming, staring at the wall. She was soaked from head to toe, dripping onto the couch.
"Hey, sweetie, if you wanna talk about it now, it's okay," I said cautiously. I made her wait to talk about the situation since she typically said things that I would regret whenever incidents were still fresh in her mind.
"I wish Gabby was d--"
"Wait!" I yelled, running to the freezer. She looked up curiously as I brought her a full tub of vanilla ice cream and cake on the side. Her face lit up and she jumped up and down in her chair. I placed the treats before her and she grabbed the tub and a spoon. About an inch away from beginning to eat she stopped and looked at me.
"Do you want any?" she said in her sweet voice.
"Daddy can't have any, sweetie. Too many sweets and I get fat. I already had cake with you this morning, remember?" I said, grabbing a towel and putting it to her hair.
"Oh yeah... I wish you could always eat with me and not get fat..." he said as she began eating. I felt something adjust in my intestines. I decided to ignore that while she might still have anger in mind and figure out what that actually meant later.
"Do you like your ice cream?" I asked, moving down to take off her wet socks.
"Yeah, but I didn't have a good day at school today," she said. She was pressing the issue. It would only be moments before insisted she wanted to talk about it and I'd be forced to oblige.
"Oh, yeah? What happened today?" I asked, poking her stomach. She laughed. Everything I did seemed to either make her smile or laugh ever since she declared I was the best dad ever.
"Well, today at school when we finished the day and Mr. Tin said we can put all the watercolors away, we went to the bathroom to clean the things and Gabby came in with me so I said that I had fun painting things but instead of saying anything she threw a bucket of water on my and was laughing the whole time," she said, somehow in one breath. I realesed the tension in my body. One statement goes awry and Gabby could have a very hard time.
"Ah, so you didn't just jump in the toilet before I picked you up from school?" I asked. She giggled again. It was good to see her smile.
"Did you tell her that it upset you?" I asked. She scooped more ice cream into her mouth and thought while chewing.
"Yeah, I told her that it wasn't nice to throw water at people but we weren't in the class anymore we were at the pick-up part of the school when you were driving in to pick me up in the magic car," she said. I nodded, moving to dry off parts of her clothes now.
"Don't you think it--"
"I wish she knew what it was like to have a lot of water on you when you didn't want it," she said confidently.
"You don't need to say things like that.." I said slowly.
"Why not?"
"I think you'd be happy getting an apology from Gabby, don't you?"
"Ok, I wish Gabby got an apology," she said mischievously.
"An apology is her saying that she's sorry, sweetie," I said, as I began wondering what her last sentence would lead to.
"Oh... I want Gabby to say sorry to me," she agreed.
"That's good," I said, dropping my phone into her lap. She looked at it for a moment, quizzically, when it went off with a call from Gabby's father. I acted surprised and answered the phone.
"Hey Drake," I said.
"Hello!? Is... I don't know what's gotten into Gabby!" he said, panicked.
"What do you mean," I said, worried.
"A water tower just bust open on top of her, hit her with torrents of water! I thought she was going to drown. Then she gets out of it fine, soaked to the bone!! Not two minutes later, the mayor came to apologize to her personally, now the only thing she wants to do is say sorry to your daughter for something she did at school. Look, I have no idea what's going on, but she's very serious about this and I can't get her to do anything else," he said, hurriedly.
"Ah, girls will be girls," chuckled, relieved that the damage hadn't caused her any serious injury.
"What!?"
"I'll put her on the phone now, go ahead and put Gabby on," I said, handing the phone to my daughter, looking at me with a handful of cake in her mouth.
"Hello?" she said. "Hi, Gabby. It's okay. Okay. Let's be friends, okay? Okay!" she said, lighting up. I wasn't sure I wanted to let Gabby influencing my daughter when she went around dumping water on people, but it was out of my hands now. She hung and gave me back my phone, going back to the cake at hand.
"You want to go brush out your hair and get into your pajamas now?"
"Can you brush my hair?"
"Of course, just your mother was always so much better at it," I said, going to get the brush.
"Oh, yeah... I wish Mommy was still alive," she said aimlessly. I froze, my hand around the handle to the drawer.
*Not again.*
__________________________________________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer!
Edit: [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/Nazer_The_Lazer/comments/dp2oma/your_daughter_has_the_power_to_make_anything_she/)
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I'm not a writer, but this is a great prompt. I saw, in the distant echo of my youth, a Twilight Zone TV episode based on a similar premise. It did not end well.
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
“Thanks dad you’re the best” Ana said as she went up to hug her new horse today. She was so happy and I love to see her like that but it is so difficult to parent her if your child gets whatever she wants. It is even more difficult to fend off and hide from the people that are constantly chasing her, especially while living in a bright pink house with a Farris wheel in the background, all the while trying to hide the fact that Ana is being constantly hunted. Every single time she sees and new thing she wanted or was suddenly on a new fair ride, and every night she goes to sleep she says, “thanks dad you’re the best!” . Little she knows of the gun locker I keep or the defensive perimeter around the house. Every night the men dressed in black, the grave amassing in the forest behind the house, it will lead no where good and hopefully she never stops saying “thanks dad you’re the best”. However as they close in around us I fear it could be the last, finally they close in all around us and hopefully I can talk to you again but it is becoming less and less likely, Ana is up in her room now only one stairway away and yet I don’t think I will be able to see her again, it is over for me, and my only wish, to hear her say it again, “thanks dad you’re the best”
|
Emily was looking deep into the dark distance from the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house. With her head stuffed against the hay she cried violently, as she does every night. But inside the house, she is happy as one can be.
"Papa" she said. "I'm leaving to live in the city". Emily, within the day was living with her adopted parents in the big bad world. Her father, Davis, cried in his wife's arms for the entire night. There was no sense of relief, they were used to the pink ponies, the toys, the endless easy-bake oven dinners, and Emily's happiness.
Emily's new parents loved Emily and Emily just wanted a normal life. She resented the perfection, she tried living in the stable for some time, but that life was also not good for her. Being home schooled wasn't what it was cracked out to be. "I love you" she now says to her new parents.
Davis couldn't find Emily in the white pages, couldn't get records, nothing. Emily must have wanted a new life, a normal life now. Davis now wished he told Emily of her power, but still couldn't accept this fate. He didn't know about the crying nights. Emily just wanted her parents to think she was happy. Emily can't help what she wants. She couldn't help that she didn't miss her life with her old parents.
All Davis had to do was tell her the truth, and she could have wanted to not get exactly what she wanted anymore. But Emily's new life started to become more and more complicated. Slowly, she started to realize what was happening. At school everyone was her friend. She couldn't resist wanting friendship as she experienced loneliness from being home schooled.
"Ugh I hate Emily, I don't know what it is about her but I feel like I have to like her because everyone else does" Delanie said in the school yard, with Emily around the corner in ear shot. She instantly wanted Delanie to not be her friend. So it made sense to her when Delanie stopped being her friend, not because its what she wanted, but because of what she heard.
Emily could never find her father, never knew she wanted to, and hence could never find happiness. Nor could Davis. He wasn't there to shelter Emily. But he saw her story in the city newspaper six years after Emily left. He wept in the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house.
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Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
[SCP-239](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-239)
|
Emily was looking deep into the dark distance from the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house. With her head stuffed against the hay she cried violently, as she does every night. But inside the house, she is happy as one can be.
"Papa" she said. "I'm leaving to live in the city". Emily, within the day was living with her adopted parents in the big bad world. Her father, Davis, cried in his wife's arms for the entire night. There was no sense of relief, they were used to the pink ponies, the toys, the endless easy-bake oven dinners, and Emily's happiness.
Emily's new parents loved Emily and Emily just wanted a normal life. She resented the perfection, she tried living in the stable for some time, but that life was also not good for her. Being home schooled wasn't what it was cracked out to be. "I love you" she now says to her new parents.
Davis couldn't find Emily in the white pages, couldn't get records, nothing. Emily must have wanted a new life, a normal life now. Davis now wished he told Emily of her power, but still couldn't accept this fate. He didn't know about the crying nights. Emily just wanted her parents to think she was happy. Emily can't help what she wants. She couldn't help that she didn't miss her life with her old parents.
All Davis had to do was tell her the truth, and she could have wanted to not get exactly what she wanted anymore. But Emily's new life started to become more and more complicated. Slowly, she started to realize what was happening. At school everyone was her friend. She couldn't resist wanting friendship as she experienced loneliness from being home schooled.
"Ugh I hate Emily, I don't know what it is about her but I feel like I have to like her because everyone else does" Delanie said in the school yard, with Emily around the corner in ear shot. She instantly wanted Delanie to not be her friend. So it made sense to her when Delanie stopped being her friend, not because its what she wanted, but because of what she heard.
Emily could never find her father, never knew she wanted to, and hence could never find happiness. Nor could Davis. He wasn't there to shelter Emily. But he saw her story in the city newspaper six years after Emily left. He wept in the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house.
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
Age 5
“Daddy, you really did it! You made my room all pink!”
I stood there, dumbfounded, as my daughter wrapped her arms around my leg. This, finally was proof, after months of odd situations.
*“I wish it wouldn’t rain tomorrow.”*
*“But Olivia, it’s rained six days in a row. The forecast says it will rain tomorrow.”*
*“Well, I don’t want it to.”*
And so the day after that, miraculously the clouds had completely dissipated, and a random heat wave had hit the county.
*I’m going to have to be careful with what she wishes for,* I thought.
\-
Age 15
When she was fifteen, she screamed at me,
“Stay away from me! I never want to see you again.”
And just like that, the company set me on a series of never-ending business trips, one weekend after the other. I went from Boston to Munich to Delhi to Hong Kong. I finally had to explain it to my wife, and apparently one night, Olivia cried and said she missed me, and wished she could hug me.
The next day, the conference I was in was cancelled, and fifteen hours later, I was back home, having spent an average of 16 hours a week for the past two months.
Yeah, fifteen was a tough time to get through, for me and her.
\-
Age 25
“Why didn’t you tell me before, Dad?”
“I don’t…know. I just thought that if you lived your life without knowing, you would be able to have a good life, because things you wanted would happen.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“I wish I had another one for you. I guess…I was scared of this too. Watching your daughter become a superhero, nothing prepares you for that. It’s just so…”
“Dangerous?”
“Yeah,” I said.
And then she said it, the only time I’ve ever heard her wish for something she already had.
“I wish you would just trust me, Dad.”
\-
Age 35
“Come on, ask me for something, Dad.”
“No, that’s not right.”
“All the people I meet, and I can’t help you out? Please, Dad, let me feel better about standing you up for dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, honey. I’m proudest and happiest just seeing you…be you. And the fact that you're busy is good. It means you're making the world better.”“That’s not a good enough answer. Come on, don’t make me say it.”
“Honey, please.”
“I wish you would tell me what you want.”
I was silent for a moment, and then the words slipped out.
“I want…to be happy even when you’re not around.”
Then she was silent for a moment.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t know if it’s something you can make come true.”
“Then let’s see. I wish you could find happiness, a happiness that lasts.”
\-
Age 45
Now, I tell her that she did make it come true, that my last few years have been great, living in the home, having friends again after so long.
“I should have been here more often, Dad.”
“No. You were out, saving the world.”
“This life, this job…it’s been so hard these last couple years, Dad. It takes so much out of me.”
“Then wish for something else,” I say, another coughing fit hitting me right after.
I know it hurts her, having to look at me like this. She can wish for physical phenomena, but in matters like this, there’s a limit. It’s almost my time to go, and she knows it has to be this way.
“Do you need anything, Dad?” she asks, quietly, looking out the hallway, perhaps, for a doctor.
“No, I’m fine, honey.”
We sit in silence for a long time, and I wish, desperately, for words to make her laugh again.
“Actually, can I ask for one last thing, honey?” I say.
“Anything.”
“Would it trouble you to not wear makeup when you come to see me? I want to see your real smile.”
She looks at me, and then grabs a towel off the rack. She wipes her face, almost comically, and I can’t help but laugh, trying my best not to fall back into coughing.
“Is this better?” she finally asks, mascara and lipstick all over.
“That’s perfect,” I say. “I can’t say I want anything else.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
Emily was looking deep into the dark distance from the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house. With her head stuffed against the hay she cried violently, as she does every night. But inside the house, she is happy as one can be.
"Papa" she said. "I'm leaving to live in the city". Emily, within the day was living with her adopted parents in the big bad world. Her father, Davis, cried in his wife's arms for the entire night. There was no sense of relief, they were used to the pink ponies, the toys, the endless easy-bake oven dinners, and Emily's happiness.
Emily's new parents loved Emily and Emily just wanted a normal life. She resented the perfection, she tried living in the stable for some time, but that life was also not good for her. Being home schooled wasn't what it was cracked out to be. "I love you" she now says to her new parents.
Davis couldn't find Emily in the white pages, couldn't get records, nothing. Emily must have wanted a new life, a normal life now. Davis now wished he told Emily of her power, but still couldn't accept this fate. He didn't know about the crying nights. Emily just wanted her parents to think she was happy. Emily can't help what she wants. She couldn't help that she didn't miss her life with her old parents.
All Davis had to do was tell her the truth, and she could have wanted to not get exactly what she wanted anymore. But Emily's new life started to become more and more complicated. Slowly, she started to realize what was happening. At school everyone was her friend. She couldn't resist wanting friendship as she experienced loneliness from being home schooled.
"Ugh I hate Emily, I don't know what it is about her but I feel like I have to like her because everyone else does" Delanie said in the school yard, with Emily around the corner in ear shot. She instantly wanted Delanie to not be her friend. So it made sense to her when Delanie stopped being her friend, not because its what she wanted, but because of what she heard.
Emily could never find her father, never knew she wanted to, and hence could never find happiness. Nor could Davis. He wasn't there to shelter Emily. But he saw her story in the city newspaper six years after Emily left. He wept in the corner of the stable, far far away from the farm house.
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
[SCP-239](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-239)
|
Dearest Olivia,
I've been alive for thousand of years, and they think I'm dead. I guess it makes sence I have been living on the ranch since she decided I was her father. The Immortal In Memoriam just sounds stupid. Don't get me wrong it was beautiful, but I never imagined having to watch my own funeral.
I am sorry I haven't, couldn't reach out to you sooner. The public can think I am dead but not you, never you. I have a duty, I have to save as many lives as possible.
She thinks it is me. It gets confusing sometimes. "Daddy, why did you do that", I don't fucking know. Everyday she remakes our little world here, it is spectacular yet terrifying. My curse protects me but it hurts everytime. It took me almost 2 years to convince her that I don't sleep when she does. I have not slept since, I think 3 months now, it is getting hard to think sometimes. I wish I could fall a sleep in your arms.
I have been figuring out how far I can get before she wakes up. I found a mailbox yesterday. I hope this gets to you. Don't tell anyone, she would not respond well to someone coming for her "Daddy".
Know that I love you. Be safe, stay away. I will get out of here, as of yet noting has worked. She just thinks it is a new game.
Love always and forever.
Cain
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
Age 5
“Daddy, you really did it! You made my room all pink!”
I stood there, dumbfounded, as my daughter wrapped her arms around my leg. This, finally was proof, after months of odd situations.
*“I wish it wouldn’t rain tomorrow.”*
*“But Olivia, it’s rained six days in a row. The forecast says it will rain tomorrow.”*
*“Well, I don’t want it to.”*
And so the day after that, miraculously the clouds had completely dissipated, and a random heat wave had hit the county.
*I’m going to have to be careful with what she wishes for,* I thought.
\-
Age 15
When she was fifteen, she screamed at me,
“Stay away from me! I never want to see you again.”
And just like that, the company set me on a series of never-ending business trips, one weekend after the other. I went from Boston to Munich to Delhi to Hong Kong. I finally had to explain it to my wife, and apparently one night, Olivia cried and said she missed me, and wished she could hug me.
The next day, the conference I was in was cancelled, and fifteen hours later, I was back home, having spent an average of 16 hours a week for the past two months.
Yeah, fifteen was a tough time to get through, for me and her.
\-
Age 25
“Why didn’t you tell me before, Dad?”
“I don’t…know. I just thought that if you lived your life without knowing, you would be able to have a good life, because things you wanted would happen.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“I wish I had another one for you. I guess…I was scared of this too. Watching your daughter become a superhero, nothing prepares you for that. It’s just so…”
“Dangerous?”
“Yeah,” I said.
And then she said it, the only time I’ve ever heard her wish for something she already had.
“I wish you would just trust me, Dad.”
\-
Age 35
“Come on, ask me for something, Dad.”
“No, that’s not right.”
“All the people I meet, and I can’t help you out? Please, Dad, let me feel better about standing you up for dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, honey. I’m proudest and happiest just seeing you…be you. And the fact that you're busy is good. It means you're making the world better.”“That’s not a good enough answer. Come on, don’t make me say it.”
“Honey, please.”
“I wish you would tell me what you want.”
I was silent for a moment, and then the words slipped out.
“I want…to be happy even when you’re not around.”
Then she was silent for a moment.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t know if it’s something you can make come true.”
“Then let’s see. I wish you could find happiness, a happiness that lasts.”
\-
Age 45
Now, I tell her that she did make it come true, that my last few years have been great, living in the home, having friends again after so long.
“I should have been here more often, Dad.”
“No. You were out, saving the world.”
“This life, this job…it’s been so hard these last couple years, Dad. It takes so much out of me.”
“Then wish for something else,” I say, another coughing fit hitting me right after.
I know it hurts her, having to look at me like this. She can wish for physical phenomena, but in matters like this, there’s a limit. It’s almost my time to go, and she knows it has to be this way.
“Do you need anything, Dad?” she asks, quietly, looking out the hallway, perhaps, for a doctor.
“No, I’m fine, honey.”
We sit in silence for a long time, and I wish, desperately, for words to make her laugh again.
“Actually, can I ask for one last thing, honey?” I say.
“Anything.”
“Would it trouble you to not wear makeup when you come to see me? I want to see your real smile.”
She looks at me, and then grabs a towel off the rack. She wipes her face, almost comically, and I can’t help but laugh, trying my best not to fall back into coughing.
“Is this better?” she finally asks, mascara and lipstick all over.
“That’s perfect,” I say. “I can’t say I want anything else.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
Dearest Olivia,
I've been alive for thousand of years, and they think I'm dead. I guess it makes sence I have been living on the ranch since she decided I was her father. The Immortal In Memoriam just sounds stupid. Don't get me wrong it was beautiful, but I never imagined having to watch my own funeral.
I am sorry I haven't, couldn't reach out to you sooner. The public can think I am dead but not you, never you. I have a duty, I have to save as many lives as possible.
She thinks it is me. It gets confusing sometimes. "Daddy, why did you do that", I don't fucking know. Everyday she remakes our little world here, it is spectacular yet terrifying. My curse protects me but it hurts everytime. It took me almost 2 years to convince her that I don't sleep when she does. I have not slept since, I think 3 months now, it is getting hard to think sometimes. I wish I could fall a sleep in your arms.
I have been figuring out how far I can get before she wakes up. I found a mailbox yesterday. I hope this gets to you. Don't tell anyone, she would not respond well to someone coming for her "Daddy".
Know that I love you. Be safe, stay away. I will get out of here, as of yet noting has worked. She just thinks it is a new game.
Love always and forever.
Cain
|
Edit: well this blew up
|
[WP] Your daughter has the power to make anything she wants come true, but being only 7 she doesn’t realize this and instead thinks you’re the best dad ever. Your house is now pink, you own a horse ranch, have a cupboard full of chocolate cake, and many things more. “Thanks dad you’re the best!”
|
Age 5
“Daddy, you really did it! You made my room all pink!”
I stood there, dumbfounded, as my daughter wrapped her arms around my leg. This, finally was proof, after months of odd situations.
*“I wish it wouldn’t rain tomorrow.”*
*“But Olivia, it’s rained six days in a row. The forecast says it will rain tomorrow.”*
*“Well, I don’t want it to.”*
And so the day after that, miraculously the clouds had completely dissipated, and a random heat wave had hit the county.
*I’m going to have to be careful with what she wishes for,* I thought.
\-
Age 15
When she was fifteen, she screamed at me,
“Stay away from me! I never want to see you again.”
And just like that, the company set me on a series of never-ending business trips, one weekend after the other. I went from Boston to Munich to Delhi to Hong Kong. I finally had to explain it to my wife, and apparently one night, Olivia cried and said she missed me, and wished she could hug me.
The next day, the conference I was in was cancelled, and fifteen hours later, I was back home, having spent an average of 16 hours a week for the past two months.
Yeah, fifteen was a tough time to get through, for me and her.
\-
Age 25
“Why didn’t you tell me before, Dad?”
“I don’t…know. I just thought that if you lived your life without knowing, you would be able to have a good life, because things you wanted would happen.”
“That’s not a good enough reason.”
“I wish I had another one for you. I guess…I was scared of this too. Watching your daughter become a superhero, nothing prepares you for that. It’s just so…”
“Dangerous?”
“Yeah,” I said.
And then she said it, the only time I’ve ever heard her wish for something she already had.
“I wish you would just trust me, Dad.”
\-
Age 35
“Come on, ask me for something, Dad.”
“No, that’s not right.”
“All the people I meet, and I can’t help you out? Please, Dad, let me feel better about standing you up for dinner.”
“You don’t owe me anything, honey. I’m proudest and happiest just seeing you…be you. And the fact that you're busy is good. It means you're making the world better.”“That’s not a good enough answer. Come on, don’t make me say it.”
“Honey, please.”
“I wish you would tell me what you want.”
I was silent for a moment, and then the words slipped out.
“I want…to be happy even when you’re not around.”
Then she was silent for a moment.
“Dad, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I don’t know if it’s something you can make come true.”
“Then let’s see. I wish you could find happiness, a happiness that lasts.”
\-
Age 45
Now, I tell her that she did make it come true, that my last few years have been great, living in the home, having friends again after so long.
“I should have been here more often, Dad.”
“No. You were out, saving the world.”
“This life, this job…it’s been so hard these last couple years, Dad. It takes so much out of me.”
“Then wish for something else,” I say, another coughing fit hitting me right after.
I know it hurts her, having to look at me like this. She can wish for physical phenomena, but in matters like this, there’s a limit. It’s almost my time to go, and she knows it has to be this way.
“Do you need anything, Dad?” she asks, quietly, looking out the hallway, perhaps, for a doctor.
“No, I’m fine, honey.”
We sit in silence for a long time, and I wish, desperately, for words to make her laugh again.
“Actually, can I ask for one last thing, honey?” I say.
“Anything.”
“Would it trouble you to not wear makeup when you come to see me? I want to see your real smile.”
She looks at me, and then grabs a towel off the rack. She wipes her face, almost comically, and I can’t help but laugh, trying my best not to fall back into coughing.
“Is this better?” she finally asks, mascara and lipstick all over.
“That’s perfect,” I say. “I can’t say I want anything else.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
|
[SCP-239](http://www.scp-wiki.net/scp-239)
|
[WP] You are the only one who seems to notice the radical changes to the world that occur from day to day. Then it dawns on you; your reality is at the whim of a bunch of amateur writers answering prompts on an online forum.
|
You.
Yes, you there. The person sitting behind a screen browsing through a bunch of terribly written stories on a writing prompt subreddit.
You, the one reading this, wondering why the writer has chosen such a cheesy terrible start: are (unfortunately) my only hope.
You see, I am completely aware of my life. I am the Monika of this world. It kinda sucks to be honest.
None of my life is real. Nothing I do has a real impact. One day I will leave.
&#x200B;
..Yeah. Happy stuff.
&#x200B;
I have to deal with the worst things. Random anime characters brought into prompts they have no relation to. Some 12 year old's impossibly overpowered OC coming to save the world from evil aliens. That one guy with terrible grammar. I've seen it all. So what's the point of this note I'm writing to you?
There is someone out there. Someone like me. Another character who is self-aware. So by writing this, I'm hoping they'll find it and be able to contact me. By writing this, I'm allowing you to bear this knowledge. And maybe, just maybe, you yourself will write a self-aware character so me and the other person won't get lonely here. Or maybe you'll think twice before bringing your butt-head character into a writing prompt.
I'm sorry if this message doesn't make sense. Unfortunately, my writer is an inexperienced minor who tends to go off topic, which is not helped by the fact it is midnight.
So please, please: just think before you comment.
Sincerely,
Hermione Jackson, evil devil who is actually an angel and is going to save the world from nostha.
|
The heroes looked shocked as the door was wide open and I was standing in the foyer to greet them.
“Let’s see, who do we have today? Hmm... Goku, Harry Potter’s twin brother, the Joker, and...ooh, Sasuke, haven’t seen you before.” Before Jerry Potter went off on his monologue, I raised my hand. “Save it. We don’t have time for this today.” I point to the clock overhead, counting down meticulously.
“In,” I glanced upward. “Twenty hours, seven minutes, and 31 seconds, you won’t be here. Don’t talk, just listen up. I’m not going to kill you, or blow up the city, or whatever Commissioner whatshisface told you this morning. He’s in on it. I need your help.”
“Wh...what are you trying to say?” Goku balles up his fists and entered into a fighting stance. “Why should we trust YOU, Dr. Evil?”
I laughed. “You really think I’d just let you waltz in here and meet you in the front? God, you get dumber and dumber every day.” I put my head into my hand. “You’re controlled. All of you. There’s a shadow organization that controls all of you. If you value your existence, you’ll follow me.” I turned my back on the group and walked into the study. Surprisingly, Potter stepped up and confronted me.
“If you’re saying the truth, you won’t mind a little...interrogation?” He pulled out a small bottle and I grabbed the thing and chugged it. “Veritasserum, your twin brother used this on me last week. Let’s get this over with quickly, time is of the essence,”
“Before we go anywhere with you,” the Joker snickered, “just who are we dealing with?”
“Ah, sûre. The organization. They control everything you do and tomorrow, a new group will be here if you don’t help me out. We...we need to break the Fourth Wall.”
|
|
[WP] You heard of 'Judge Judy', now prepare for two new shows: 'Jury Judy' and 'Executioner Judy'
|
It's been 10 years since the world adopted Judyism, the principle that every case no matter how severe or negligible can and should be resolved by the world's most terrifying former family court judge and reality star, Judge Judy. Needed in all parts of the world, Judy agreed to be cloned so that she could judge everywhere and everything. Now, there are no more lawyers, no more selected jurors, no more executioners. There is only Judy...
"You are now about to enter the courtroom of Judge Judith Sheindlin. The people are real. The cases are real. The rulings are final. This is Judge Judy."
He could only think, *Still as terrifying before she took over the world.* Then, she walked out. Everyone in the courtroom rose from their seats without being instructed. Even though there was a bailiff, the only person everyone feared, was Judy. Everyone stood still until she sat down, following her lead immediately after. Patrick stood the whole time, thinking how she hasn't aged at all in these last 10 years.
"Patrick Carr, you are accused of murdering your former employer...Harry Buttz?" there was a twitch the corner of her mouth, then a flare in her eye. "Alright, who did this!?" the sudden change in her voice frightened everyone, including the bailiff. Judy directed her gaze at the hulking man, who shook in return. "Is this your idea of a joke?"
He stuttered, "N-No your h-honor. That is his n-name." looking down the whole time.
She looked at the paper once more and grimaced, "Huh, well that is an unfortunate name. Alright son, did you do it?"
He was so terrified that he forgot to plead his innocence. "What? No, your honor, I didn't!" It was so weird having to defend himself. He always imagined if he were ever accused of something this horrendous, he would have an experienced, professional lawyer defending him. But those days were gone, he was alone. "I didn't get along with him, that's why I quit, but I would never kill anyone!"
She looked at him unamused, "Alright kiddo, we have Mr. Buttz's wife here who was at her home with her husband before the murder, why don't you come up here sweetie?"
He knew the trial would be quick, but he was at a loss for the rapid speed of the process. They were already calling witnesses? The hefty wife of the now deceased Harry walked from her bench two feet to the podium next to Patrick. "Have you seen this man before?" Judy asked her.
"Yes." Mrs. Buttz replied with a twang in her voice.
"How do you know him?" She asked with a fiery tone.
"He came by my house and killed my husband." She answered surprisingly plainly.
"Woah, your honor." Patrick spoke up, "I have never seen her or been to his house before ever."
"Yeah right you asshole!" Mrs. Buttz exclaimed. Patrick looked to the Judge to see if she would break it up, but she looked on with fascination. "My husband was telling me how he fired your dumbass and you came by and killed with a rake."
"I quit because of his unsanitary methods at the Long John Silvers he managed."
"Nuh uh your honor, he came by all drunk n shit. He slapped my silver tooth out and clawed my Harry to death with a rake."
"Your honor, I wasn't anywhere near their house the night of the murder."
"Where were you then?"
"I was at home." He knew it was over as he said the words.
"And can anyone support this?"
"No."
"And do you, or do you not, own a large collection of rakes?"
"Well, yes your honor, collecting rakes is my hobby, but-"
"Then you had access to the murder weapon, and alone when the murder happened. Maybe next time you are holding a rake and want to take your problems out on the world, I suggest you *leave* it be. Alright, let's send it to the Jury."
"But I didn't" Patrick began, but it was too late, the theme music already began: "You are now entering the Jury room of Jury Judith Sheindlins. The debates are real. The clones are catty. The decisions are final."
On a monitor, Patrick could see 12 identical Judys attempting to talk over one another. The Judy at the head of the table slammed her hand down. "Okay, okay. Who believes the wife?"
As a majority of hands went up, and Patrick felt a queasy feeling in his stomach, another Judy remarked, "How can you believe what she's saying when you don't know what she's saying?" some of the Judys laughed at that. "I think the real crime was that name, I mean how do you not change it?" another Judy spoke up. The Judy at the head slammed her hand down again, "Alright you bunch of old lizards, lets give our decision so we can go Carowinds." She pressed a button and the screen turned black. The Judy sitting up on high swiveled back to him.
"Mr. Patrick Carr, the 12 Judys have found you guilty. Your sentence is death, and $1200 towards Mrs. Buttz for her tooth."
Patrick's jaw hung agape in despair. He could hear his former bosses widow cheer behind him "Hooray! I'm back on the market, and I get a new tooth!" Before Patrick could collect a thought, he was hauled off into the next room. He could hear the final opening: "You are about to enter the Death room of Executioner Judith Sheindlin. The weapons are real. The people are real. The deaths are final."
A Judy in a black jump suit appeared seemingly out of know where and clapped her hands together like a traveling salesman. "Alright kid, what's your poison? I got beheading, hanging, firing squad, electric chair, and...well poison."
Patrick's mouth continued to hang open. He wanted to plead his case again, he wanted to beg, to scream. However, he closed his mouth and relented to his position. He had seen this show dozens, if not hundreds, of times. No matter how well he crafted his defense, or even if they gave him the time, there was no use reasoning with the Judys. He sighed and without thinking said, "Shooting."
She cocked an eyebrow, "Really? You want five 77 year old women with poor aim to kill you?"
He stood there with a dumb expression on his face, done with this process and ready to face his sentence. "Yeah, I guess so."
She clapped her hands together once more and said, "Alright then. Blindfold?"
"I'm good." Was all he could muster. They positioned him infront of a blank wall with five Judys standing 20 feet in front of him.
"Ready."
They stood at attention, or as well as they could manage.
"Aim."
They raised their rifles, and Patrick couldn't help but laugh a little at his situation.
"Wait."
He flinched, expecting 'fire' followed by a roar of gunfire. Instead, a Judge Judy walked into the room with the bailiff and Mrs. Buttz. "Take those cuffs off of him, he didn't do it."
The five Judys talked amongst each other, the Judge visibly getting frustrated, "Hello, am I talking to myself? Take em off already!"
The Judys scrambled until one finally jogged over with keys. Patrick let out a long sigh of relief, "Oh, thank you God!" He Looked to Judy, who had a stern look on her face.
"God who?" She asked.
"Uh, God Judy." He nervously said. "So wait, who did it?"
"Oh, it was the wife." She motioned to Mrs. Buttz behind her. "Seems she hated the last name and the husband didn't want to change it, so she stole one of your rakes, convinced Mr. Buttz to fire you, and then killed him."
"Wow, how did you find out so quickly?"
"She was bragging about it outside the court room. You just can't fix stupid. Alright, get her infront of the firing squad."
Mrs. Buttz protested, "Wait, can I at least choose my own style of killin?"
The Judge looked to Patrick, who looked at Mrs. Buttz with a smug look and said, "Sorry bitch, all decisions are final."
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Mike woke up on a cold Tuesday morning to see a missed call on his phone. He rolled over his sheets and unplugged his mobile. He hazily put on his glasses and grudgingly unlocked his phone. The notification at the top of the screen read 'Missed call from unknown number' how strange. \*Most likely someone from work\* Mike thought to himself.
He got up and called the unknown number
"Hello, this is Mike, sorry to bother you but I didn't recognize your number, who is this?"
A few seconds passed, no answer on the other end.
"Hello? This is Mike from the studio, is this one of the new actors?"
His fingers hovered over the end call button, figuring it was just a wrong number, until he heard a very deep "Greetings" emit from his phones speakers.
"Greetings, Mike. You've been chosen to be a contestant on our new show 'Executioner Judy' I assume you've heard about Judge Judy, correct?"
The man on the other end sounded as if he were using a voice changer. His voice was unnaturally low with way too much reverb in his words. Not wanting to be rude however, he replied
"Uh, yes I'm familiar with Judge Judy. Anyway how and why have I been 'chosen' for it?"
Completely ignoring this inquiry, the mysterious Individual replied
"Much like Judge Judy, you and a few others will be inside a court room. However, in this case one of you will be chosen for execution."
Mike suddenly sat up straight, hearing the deadpan 'execution' in that emotionless voice with no indication of it being fake put him on edge.
Slightly nervous now, Mike replied
"Execution? Haha, sounds exciting. When in this taking place?"
"We have sent you a text detailing the dates and where you must be, along with the rules and how the game works. We hope to see you there, Mike."
The call ended before he could respond, leaving Mike confused sitting up at the end of his bed. He pondered what it could have been. Perhaps a prank call? Very plausible considering how unnatural he sounded, although a prank like this sounded all too peculiar.
Such a strange way to scare someone... How about a scam? Well, it sounded too elaborate to be a cash grab. No talk of bank accounts or credit cards, either.
A few very confusing minutes went by until his phone buzzed in his hand, causing him to stop day dreaming about possibilities, and he saw a text from the 'unknown' number. However, this time the text had a name.
'Execution'
'Execution has sent you a text message.'
Nervously he tapped the message, was this being creepy on purpose? Or perhaps it was just a way for the show to feel more real.
EXECUTION
DATE - 2/1/20
TIME - 18:00
PLACE - 484 Jefferson Street
Jacksonville, FL 32212
PERSONNEL - NO MOBILE PHONES OR OTHER COMMUNICATION DEVICES ALLOWED.
RULES - Hello there Contestant! You have been picked for our brand new show, Executioner Judy. Now, we will give you $5000 to participate in the courtroom. You will be playing a man called Samuel who's in a messy divorce and is requesting an appeal for custody of his son. Further details along with the script can be found here <EXESCRIPT.pdf>
Read these terms of agreement and press agree if you'd like to participate. <TermsandConditions.pdf>
Please learn your lines for the date of the show, on 2/1/20.
Many thanks,
\-ANON.
Mike scratched his head. No indication of how or why he was picked. However the prospect of $5000 sounded extremely enticing. He was currently enlisted as a teacher for a small theatrical group, ever since graduation he never found any real auditions. This could be his break to finally climb up the ranks. On the other hand, he hadn't been told who was speaking, how they got his mobile number, or why he was picked.
Mike thought about the risks vs reward in accepting this.
\*Worse case scenario, I'm 'executed'\* Mike thought to himself chuckling.
He decided to take the risk, quickly scanned through the terms and agreed to it.
Little did Mike know, he had just agreed to his own demise.
&#x200B;
Part 2 once I'm back home :)
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[WP] You heard of 'Judge Judy', now prepare for two new shows: 'Jury Judy' and 'Executioner Judy'
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It's been 10 years since the world adopted Judyism, the principle that every case no matter how severe or negligible can and should be resolved by the world's most terrifying former family court judge and reality star, Judge Judy. Needed in all parts of the world, Judy agreed to be cloned so that she could judge everywhere and everything. Now, there are no more lawyers, no more selected jurors, no more executioners. There is only Judy...
"You are now about to enter the courtroom of Judge Judith Sheindlin. The people are real. The cases are real. The rulings are final. This is Judge Judy."
He could only think, *Still as terrifying before she took over the world.* Then, she walked out. Everyone in the courtroom rose from their seats without being instructed. Even though there was a bailiff, the only person everyone feared, was Judy. Everyone stood still until she sat down, following her lead immediately after. Patrick stood the whole time, thinking how she hasn't aged at all in these last 10 years.
"Patrick Carr, you are accused of murdering your former employer...Harry Buttz?" there was a twitch the corner of her mouth, then a flare in her eye. "Alright, who did this!?" the sudden change in her voice frightened everyone, including the bailiff. Judy directed her gaze at the hulking man, who shook in return. "Is this your idea of a joke?"
He stuttered, "N-No your h-honor. That is his n-name." looking down the whole time.
She looked at the paper once more and grimaced, "Huh, well that is an unfortunate name. Alright son, did you do it?"
He was so terrified that he forgot to plead his innocence. "What? No, your honor, I didn't!" It was so weird having to defend himself. He always imagined if he were ever accused of something this horrendous, he would have an experienced, professional lawyer defending him. But those days were gone, he was alone. "I didn't get along with him, that's why I quit, but I would never kill anyone!"
She looked at him unamused, "Alright kiddo, we have Mr. Buttz's wife here who was at her home with her husband before the murder, why don't you come up here sweetie?"
He knew the trial would be quick, but he was at a loss for the rapid speed of the process. They were already calling witnesses? The hefty wife of the now deceased Harry walked from her bench two feet to the podium next to Patrick. "Have you seen this man before?" Judy asked her.
"Yes." Mrs. Buttz replied with a twang in her voice.
"How do you know him?" She asked with a fiery tone.
"He came by my house and killed my husband." She answered surprisingly plainly.
"Woah, your honor." Patrick spoke up, "I have never seen her or been to his house before ever."
"Yeah right you asshole!" Mrs. Buttz exclaimed. Patrick looked to the Judge to see if she would break it up, but she looked on with fascination. "My husband was telling me how he fired your dumbass and you came by and killed with a rake."
"I quit because of his unsanitary methods at the Long John Silvers he managed."
"Nuh uh your honor, he came by all drunk n shit. He slapped my silver tooth out and clawed my Harry to death with a rake."
"Your honor, I wasn't anywhere near their house the night of the murder."
"Where were you then?"
"I was at home." He knew it was over as he said the words.
"And can anyone support this?"
"No."
"And do you, or do you not, own a large collection of rakes?"
"Well, yes your honor, collecting rakes is my hobby, but-"
"Then you had access to the murder weapon, and alone when the murder happened. Maybe next time you are holding a rake and want to take your problems out on the world, I suggest you *leave* it be. Alright, let's send it to the Jury."
"But I didn't" Patrick began, but it was too late, the theme music already began: "You are now entering the Jury room of Jury Judith Sheindlins. The debates are real. The clones are catty. The decisions are final."
On a monitor, Patrick could see 12 identical Judys attempting to talk over one another. The Judy at the head of the table slammed her hand down. "Okay, okay. Who believes the wife?"
As a majority of hands went up, and Patrick felt a queasy feeling in his stomach, another Judy remarked, "How can you believe what she's saying when you don't know what she's saying?" some of the Judys laughed at that. "I think the real crime was that name, I mean how do you not change it?" another Judy spoke up. The Judy at the head slammed her hand down again, "Alright you bunch of old lizards, lets give our decision so we can go Carowinds." She pressed a button and the screen turned black. The Judy sitting up on high swiveled back to him.
"Mr. Patrick Carr, the 12 Judys have found you guilty. Your sentence is death, and $1200 towards Mrs. Buttz for her tooth."
Patrick's jaw hung agape in despair. He could hear his former bosses widow cheer behind him "Hooray! I'm back on the market, and I get a new tooth!" Before Patrick could collect a thought, he was hauled off into the next room. He could hear the final opening: "You are about to enter the Death room of Executioner Judith Sheindlin. The weapons are real. The people are real. The deaths are final."
A Judy in a black jump suit appeared seemingly out of know where and clapped her hands together like a traveling salesman. "Alright kid, what's your poison? I got beheading, hanging, firing squad, electric chair, and...well poison."
Patrick's mouth continued to hang open. He wanted to plead his case again, he wanted to beg, to scream. However, he closed his mouth and relented to his position. He had seen this show dozens, if not hundreds, of times. No matter how well he crafted his defense, or even if they gave him the time, there was no use reasoning with the Judys. He sighed and without thinking said, "Shooting."
She cocked an eyebrow, "Really? You want five 77 year old women with poor aim to kill you?"
He stood there with a dumb expression on his face, done with this process and ready to face his sentence. "Yeah, I guess so."
She clapped her hands together once more and said, "Alright then. Blindfold?"
"I'm good." Was all he could muster. They positioned him infront of a blank wall with five Judys standing 20 feet in front of him.
"Ready."
They stood at attention, or as well as they could manage.
"Aim."
They raised their rifles, and Patrick couldn't help but laugh a little at his situation.
"Wait."
He flinched, expecting 'fire' followed by a roar of gunfire. Instead, a Judge Judy walked into the room with the bailiff and Mrs. Buttz. "Take those cuffs off of him, he didn't do it."
The five Judys talked amongst each other, the Judge visibly getting frustrated, "Hello, am I talking to myself? Take em off already!"
The Judys scrambled until one finally jogged over with keys. Patrick let out a long sigh of relief, "Oh, thank you God!" He Looked to Judy, who had a stern look on her face.
"God who?" She asked.
"Uh, God Judy." He nervously said. "So wait, who did it?"
"Oh, it was the wife." She motioned to Mrs. Buttz behind her. "Seems she hated the last name and the husband didn't want to change it, so she stole one of your rakes, convinced Mr. Buttz to fire you, and then killed him."
"Wow, how did you find out so quickly?"
"She was bragging about it outside the court room. You just can't fix stupid. Alright, get her infront of the firing squad."
Mrs. Buttz protested, "Wait, can I at least choose my own style of killin?"
The Judge looked to Patrick, who looked at Mrs. Buttz with a smug look and said, "Sorry bitch, all decisions are final."
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I stared ahead, my legs trembling. Judy looked at me with cold, mocking eyes.
"William Baker, you have been charged with high treason by the jury, and with your charge, the judge has sentenced you to the death penalty. As the executioner, I will now carry out this sentence."
I swallowed, my throat tight.
"B-but how is this even allowed? You were the judge who sentenced me, you were the jury who condemned me, and now you're the executioner whose supposed to kill me?! How does this even make sense?!" I strained my arms against the cuffs, my wrists stinging as the skin got pinched by the metal.
A guard shoved me forward, his grip firm. I started to struggle as I got closer to the chair. There was no way this could be real. It just couldn't. Everything about this situation was horribly wrong.
"I didn't even commit treason!" I screamed, my eyes darting around, desperately trying to find someone who would listen to me. "Can't you all see how messed up this is?! Why aren't any of you doing anything? STOP!"
I started crying, my sobs uncontrollable as I screamed and thrashed. I started moving my head, bringing my teeth towards the face of the man holding me. They had just made contact when the floor came rushing upwards. A steady hum filled my ears as my vision flashed with white and black. I felt myself get lifted off of the floor, my legs dragging limply behind me.
"And make sure he's strapped in well. We don't want him to end up like the last one."
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[WP] You heard of 'Judge Judy', now prepare for two new shows: 'Jury Judy' and 'Executioner Judy'
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"You've been accused of a very heinous crime, sir." Judge Judy stared daggers straight into the defendant's soul. Looking over her thin glasses at him, he felt a chill slowly running up his spine. "This nice couple claims that you shoplifted from their little mom and pop's shop."
"I did not, your honor."
She glared at him for several seconds, sizing him up and deciding whether he could be trusted. "They say you did."
"I didn't your honor, they're lying."
"We have proof!" Screamed the desperate couple, holding up a sheet of paper, anxiously motioning for the judge to examine.
Judge Judy held up her hand to them in a silent protest. "I'll get to you two in a minute."
"I've never even visited their store, your honor."
The couple looked over at him in complete disbelief, mouths agape. "He's lying!"
The judge pressed the fingers of her hand together as if holding a sock puppet, slowly opening and closing its mouth at the accusers, *"Hush hush hush hush"*.
"Now, Mr. Lambardi. You were saying."
"Your honor, I've never seen this couple in my life."
"They say you have."
"I haven't!"
She paused momentarily, slowly turning her head to face the accusers, quietly lowering her left hand as a sign that they were finally allowed to talk.
"Speak."
"Your honor, we have proof that this man is lying. We have video evidence that he stole a flat-screen TV from our store."
The judge shifted her head back at the defendant. "Really, you stole a television from these people?"
"No, I didn't ma'am."
"QUIET."
She shifted her attention back to the couple, motioning with her hand, "Let me see that."
She signaled for her bailiff to take the evidence from them and hand it to her, which he did with thinly veiled amusement.
"Your honor, those are pictures of **THIS MAN** taken with our in-store security cameras. "He walked out of the store with the TV while we were busy taking care of other customers."
Judge Judy furled her eyebrows in momentary concentration, then turned one of the pictures to face the defendant. "Is this you, sir?"
"No ma'am, it's not."
"You didn't even look at it!"
"I can't see it your honor."
She rolled her eyes and figuratively slapped her palm against her forehead. "It looks like you, sir."
"It's not me your honor."
"Sir, I think this is you."
"It's not your honor."
She paused, giving him a glare that could have killed lesser men. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet.
"Do you think I'm a fool sir?" Before he could respond she interrupted him. "Listen to me very carefully." She paused for effect. "You owe these people..." She stopped for a second to turn her attention towards them. "How much?" "800 your honor."
"800 dollars."
"No, I don't your honor."
"Yes, you do."
He should have heeded the warning because with each passing statement her tone became darker and darker.
"No I don't your honor."
"**YES, YOU DO**."
"No, I--"
Reaching the point of emotional and physical exhaustion, she pulled an AK-47 out from under her desk and began spraying in his general direction. The bullets sliced through him as though he were made of butter, the crowd ducking and screaming in fear, the courtroom in a state of utter chaos. He collapsed on the floor, blood and filth spewing in every direction. Several audience members had been hit in the crossfire.
"Can somebody clean this shit up?" "NEXT!"
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I'm writing this when I recalled a session we had with a hangman.
A hang man job is similar to an executioner. It's a man ordered by the constitution to take one's life after being judged by an appointed judge of a crime of taking another man's life or a crime or greater to than such with heavy emphasis that such punishments can only be served when there are more than sufficient evidence to back such claim.
The hangman is a religious devout person, such is the requirement for the job. Taking one's life despite by legal means chips a portion of one's soul. Unlike the many jobs that can be oiled with money, one cannot cheat the hangman nor can he cheat the system. In a plain room, a number of people will come but one less people will leave the room alive.
For the hangman, his sins from the eyes of God is something he will never know. Thus, he prayed. 5 times a day with additional prayers before he have to do his duties. A ritual of prayers for many things, for many people but also for him, praying that he will not hang an innocent man.
Does he regret killing a person? Maybe but if you read the many court cases deserving a capital nourishment, you too would realize the need of a man in such position. A man transporting almost a ton of heroin caught, he was hanged. A man killed children to sacrifice to his God, he was hanged. A man who killed his family for insurance money, he was hanged. Many many men. These are irrational people who doesn't follow our basic human rights, trampled them, forfeited them. Such people doesn't deserve the right of life.
It's cruel but the court should have that right simply because some people truly deserve it with evidence proving of their heinous action.
For the hangman, it's not just a job. It's a responsibility that he too will be judged after his death on the Day of Judgement. It's a scary work with a tremendous amount of responsibility and he pray every single time before such action need to be taken is right.
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[WP] The year is 2219 and the tree planting campaigns of the early 21st century were TOO successful, humanity now has an excessive amount of trees and must deal with the unintended consequences.
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We had always lived in the forest. Out the window, there had always been tree after tree, so high that we couldn’t see the canopies. Light didn’t work its way down, no, the most light we got was a few murky rays on the high days of summer. Momma would talk about the old days. Sometimes. She knew the sun. She said the sun was the reason her shoulders were flecked with brown flecks.
The winter after Momma died was the worst winter yet. The snow pushed up past my knees. The stock of wood George and Pa and I gathered in fall ran low by January. Pa was in no state to gather any. He barely left his room, most days. He’d hunted in the fall—back in September before Momma died—and, if we were lucky, the cured meat would last to spring.
When February rolled around, and nothing had gotten better, and George and Lucy and I were cold bones, Lucy decided we had to swallow our scabbed pride and go to the Carver’s for help. We wrapped ourselves in fur. We’d all go, Lucy decided, because it would be too dangerous to take off alone and no one wanted to stay home alone, either. The days were short and the light was low and it was dark and cold and the trees were bare and the wolves were as hungry as we were.
We walked the path through the forest. We pushed through the snow. The silence of the forest bit my ears. I liked it better in the summer when life in the forest made itself visible. Made itself known.
We reached the Carver’s cabin before sundown. Lucy swore. There was no smoke spilling from the chimney. A snowdrift engulfed the front of the wooden beams. Weeks of snow. All pilled up, undisturbed.
We aren’t going in, Lucy said. She said we’d keep trecking, down the path, to the Miller’s.
George whined. He wanted to dry his mittens and socks.
Lucy shook her head. We’d keep pushing through the snow.
Darkness always fell fast, in the forest. In the winter, it fell even faster. We walked, each of us clinging to the hem of the other’s fur coat.
When we reached the Miller’s, Lucy muffled a cry.
Their house was also buried under a mound of snow. The single window on the far side was covered in a thick layer of frost. Lucy cleared a spot and squinted through.
She said we needed to stop for the night. In the morning, we’d go back home. She told me and George to wait outside. Only for a minute.
When she opened the door to the cabin, she told us we couldn’t leave the main room. We couldn’t go into the bedrooms.
Inside, we lit a fire. They had wood, still, stacked neatly inside. We arranged our wet clothes in front of the light. We ate pickled carrots and jerked meat we found in a cabinet in the kitchen. Lucy pulled blankets from the bedroom and we layed on the floor near the fire. She told us to try and sleep.
Sometime after midnight, we woke to a blinding light streaming through the window. Brighter than I’d ever seen. Shouts. Dogs, barking. More shouts.
George grabbed my arm. He held it tight—the way he hadn’t done in years.
Lucy ushered us all to a corner.
Someone knocked on the door. Banged it. The door shook in the frame. “FRD. Open the door.” The voice was deep but not unkind.
I shushed George. Stay silent, I whispered.
“We know you’re in there. Open the door. We’re here to help.” He banged on the door, once more, and then stopped.
Outside, there was silence.
I raised my eyebrow at Lucy. Could we trust them?
No, she shook her head, once. Slowly.
The door exploded inward. Wood chips flew to the far wall. Three men, clad in puffy jackets that were so red my eyes hurt, stood in the frame. They held a metal bar of some sort they’d used to burst in.
The tallest one of the group walked forward. He locked eyes with us, hiding in the corner, and turned back to his teammates. Outside, a dog barked again. “Told ya they were here,” he said. “Radar’s never wrong.”
He walked forward. His boots—shiny and neatly stitched and like nothing I’d ever seen—fell heavy on the wooden floor beams.
He knelt on one knee and smiled at us. His teeth were unnaturally white and straight. “Hey—hey, you don’t need to worry. We’re here to help.” He glanced back at the other men. More were streaming into the Miller’s cabin. They had strange blankets and held red sticks that poured out beams of white light. Their voices were loud and clear and deep and rounded with strange accents.
“You don’t need to worry anymore,” the man in front of us repeated. “We’re the Forest Rescue Department. We’re here to help.”
He smiled, again, and the white light hit the sharp edges of his teeth. I thought, then, that he looked very much like a wolf that lived deep in the woods. The kind of animal that also travelled in packs.
---
/r/liswrites
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We were so proud of ourselves. What a success! Humanity really came together, we fought the climate change and took on our carbon emissions! Having more trees was great, and it was so pretty, the lush green forests were amazing.
Animal habits were being restored and humanity was clustering in cities and letting the forests expand.
It was nearly a utopia. But like the plans of all mice and men they often go awry. It almost wasn’t noticeable at first but then it was the only thing people noticed. The new extreme oxygen in the air caused animals and and people to get bigger, much bigger.
Misquotes the size of birds, spiders the size of footballs. People loved being bigger and stronger, average height was nearly 7 feet. But was t really worth it when your average dog was bigger than a tiger. No this was definitely not intended. Bugs had caused more deaths than they ever had before.
And if that wasn’t enough there were the wildfires. The extra oxygen in the air made it all the flammable. People won’t soon forget when the forest of Oregon burned the state to the ground.
Wildlife was fierce and the fires fiercer. Humanity hadn’t moved to the cities for some utopian society, they moved their for safety.
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[WP] A bounty hunter who's crush is one day marked at £5,000,000, and if found, to be returned dead.
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*This is day 6 of the NaNoWriMo non-novel writing challenge. I’m doing a prompt a day. I consider these closer to rough and first drafts than edited pieces. Thanks.*
“Frisco, what the hell is this?”
The office was small, not the kind of place you would expect a $6,450,000 exchange to happen, but Frisco had been in worse. He had probably seen more wood paneling and large glass ashtrays in the past seven years of being a bounty hunter than he had growing up in the eighties. The wooden chair he was sitting in was a nice accent. It looked like it had been stolen from a pizza parlor.
The man sitting across from him was Snake “The Jake” Transford. No one knew where he got his nickname from, or why he even needed a nickname. Most people suspected he had given it to himself, since he had it printed on his checks. No one was willing to tell him that nicknames didn’t work like this, that you couldn’t give yourself one. Mostly, they felt sorry for a man who felt he needed one when his own name should have been cool enough.
The Jake was staring at what was sitting in the other parlor chair next to Frisco.
“This is what you were looking for,” Frisco said. “Marlia Johansson. In the flesh.”
Frisco looked at Marlia, love welling up in his heart. Marlia sat with her head drooping to one side. Her hair was a mess, no matter how hard Frisco tried to fix it. She hadn’t blinked in three days.
“Braaaaiinnnssss....” said Marlia.
“What the hell did that thing just say?” said The Jake. He almost jumped out of his chair when she spoke.
“She said ‘brains,’ Snake. I thought it was pretty clear.”
Snake shook his head like he was a dog just out of a bath. “What about this is ‘pretty clear?’ What the hell is wrong with her?”
Frisco looked at Marlia. He wasn’t entirely sure where to begin, but he was not used to starting from a defensive position.
“There’s nothing wrong with her. She’s here, delivered, just like you asked.”
“Did you even read the flyer on this one? Do you even read?” said Snake. He was starting to raise his voice. “The reward was for bringing her in dead. Not alive. Dead.”
Frisco looked The Jake in the eye. “She is dead,” he said.
“This is not dead. Dead doesn’t say brains and loll their head back and forth.”
“Braaaiiinnsss....” said Marlia.
“See?” said Snake. “She is pretty damn active for being dead.”
“Well, she isn’t alive. What is the opposite of being alive?” said Frisco.
In normal circumstances, Snake would have made some snarky comment, something about being an ambassador in the US, or working for the BBC. But he was unnerved to the point of near hysterics.
“Not this! This isn’t dead! You were supposed to bring her in dead, not this!”
Marlia reached an arm out towards Frisco. “Braaaiinnnsss.....” said Marlia.
“Not now, honey. Daddy’s talking.”
“Oh look, how cute,” said The Jake. “She thinks you have brains. Frisco, what did you do? What the hell is going on?”
Frisco leaned forward in his chair, putting an elbow on Snake’s desk. He was trying to reclaim the situation.
“I’ll tell you what I did. I didn’t play your goddamn game, that’s what. I knew where you were going with this flyer,” said Frisco. “I knew you were going to twist the knife in me a little more, after that incident in Macau Picchu.”
“There weren’t supposed to be any dogs hurt and you-“
“I know!” yelled Frisco. “We have been over this! But you put the flyer out on the love of my life, for more money than she is worth to you, and I know what this was. This was payback. For god sake, Snake, the pomeranian was fine. You didn’t have to do this.”
The Jake sat back in his chair. “Look, business is business. I couldn’t let something like that slide. I have lots of people to work with here. One of them sees that, they think they get to slide too.”
“Braainnnsss....” said Marlia. The Jake looked back at her.
“Listen, man, I’m in the results business.” said Frisco. He gestured at Marlia. “This is results.”
“You call this results,” said The Jake. “I call it trouble.”
“You want trouble? Imagine what I went through.” said Frisco. “I had to find the lair of Dr. Federico Bandamire, Swim across a channel to get on to his evil island, kill five of his guards, and steal his secret undead formula, get back, inject Marlia with it, and then sneak her though London to get here. That was trouble.”
“Undead formula,” said The Jake.
“Yep. No pulse, no breathing. As good as dead. Check her yourself,” said Frisco.
The Jake pointed at Marlia. “I am not getting anywhere near that thing. I want it gone. I want it out of my office.” The Jake pointed at Frisco. “And I don’t ever want to see your face again.”
Frisco pointed back at The Jake. “And I want my money. $6,450,000. All of it.”
The Jake pulled out his checkbook. “If you think I’m giving you a favorable exchange rate, you are stupider than she looks.” He wrote a check. “Cash it at a bank, I don’t give a damn. It’s in pounds. Just get the hell out of here.”
Frisco took Marlia by the arm. “Come on, sweetie,” he said. “Let’s get on with the rest of our... lives.”
He helped her out of the chair.
Her arm came off in his hands. She didn’t react at all.
“Oh,” said Frisco. He looked at Marlia, then the arm. “I guess we’ll get that fixed later. OK, let’s go.”
The walked out of the room.
Snake Transford sat at his desk silent. He could still smell Marlia. After a minute, he picked up his phone and buzzed his receptionist.
“Bobby. Get me a Doctor Federico Bandamire on the phone. I think I may have a business proposition for him.”
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Samantha doesn't know about my real job. I've been feeding her my usual cover, that I'm a troubleshooting consultant operating under contract. It's not a complete lie - I take contracts that get me into trouble and I shoot my way out of it. But I did have to lie to her now.
We were on my couch, watching one of her TV shows, I don't remember which one, when I got a buzz on my "work phone." She was half-asleep and leaning into me, and I nonchalantly angled my screen so she couldn't see it as I checked the job. She felt me stiffen, and not the way I usually do on date nights. She asked what was wrong.
I don't remember what lie I told her. But not long after, soon as I could while making it seem casual, I suggested we take a ride out to the Point. The Point is a promontory up the hill a ways, overlooking the entire city and probably a few miles of coast. It's gorgeous at night, and pretty secluded. We've had some memorable nights there. It's probably her favorite spot in the world.
If nothing else, I could do that for her.
Sam picks up on things though. She could tell I was on edge for the entire drive. It got harder to reassure her. But I knew that if I was going to do it, I had to do it at the Point.
And that brings me to now. She's lying in the back seat of the car. The last thing I saw in her eyes was a look of shock, confusion, and hurt. I'll never look in those eyes again, but this is worth losing her.
It's worth losing her to keep her alive.
The Point is secluded. The only access points are the road from the city and the road from the beach, and the way the road jacknifes, I can cover both approaches at once. That's why I brought her here, and why I knocked her out with chloroform to keep her from running.
They'll come tonight. There is no hiding from them, no running from them. Probably no beating them head-on either. But at least I can choose where this dance happens.
And Samantha really does love this place.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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Sorry for the format. Typing on my phone.
She appeared to me in the night, beautiful blonde hair, milky white skin, and a stunning red dress, with golden polka dots.
She said nothing, but her eyes and smile said everything. Holding out her hand, I reached for it. She was soft, and warm, a sense of calm washed over my old, cancer stricken body.
For the first time in months, I stood up. I had been bed ridden since early spring. 98 years old, and dying of pancreatic cancer. I had spent days thinking of my life, and the people that I was going to leave behind.
As I stared at this beautiful woman holding my hand, an old memory surfaced...I was barely six, and I had a dream that told me to follow the woman that was now standing in my hospital room, 96 years later.
I briefly felt scared, but her eyes and smile told me not to be. I took a deep breath, as she gently squeezed my feeble hand, guiding me towards the door.
We slipped into the darkened hallway, the hospice wing was quiet, save for the sounds of the sleeping and sick. We moved along the hallways, never letting my hand go. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't figure out why.
As we continued walking in silence, I began to notice my surroundings change. We were no longer in the hospital, but now in a stunning field of grass, with the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. The woman turned to me and said, "David, you have come to the end of your journey, and I have watched you live a life of happiness and love. It is time to be with your own".
She smiled again, as she began to change shape.
In her place stood my best friend from my childhood.
It was Dot. My golden retriever.
She was as beautiful as I had remembered. I was 6 when she passed of old age. There she stood now in all her glory. Beautiful golden yellow fur, and the red handkerchief that I tied around her neck.
She sat beside me, my old body betraying me, shaking with the excitement of seeing my best friend again.
Then I heard the voice again, that I had heard all those years ago., " Follow me now David, you are home.
Dot nudged me and I smiled.
I was home now.
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You see the woman walk by. The words from your childhood scream inside your mind.
You stand up and walk down the hall to catch up to her. Her pace isn't quick. There are dozens of others following her.
You shuffle at first, but your bones don't hurt anymore. You pick up the pace into a run.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she turns around and smiles.
"Thank you for coming willingly." she says as she reaches out to hug you. She pulls you in tightly.
You feel no warmth from this. You turn around and see down the hall to your room where your body lays motionless.
"Be at peace, friend." she remarks to you and all the others around you as the lights go out.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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I almost missed her. Now that I’ve absorbed ‘the miracle’ I feel a sharp shame and anger. How could I have let it go that far. Stuck in a hospital bed, weak and slow. Only the hem of her dress, that flash of gold, between me and... I can’t even.
Embarrassed, I look down at my plump fingers. Then I pull out my phone and snap a selfie for reassurance.
June turns the corner and locks eyes menacingly. She has changed out of her party dress but her makeup is still overdone. I want to touch her, but I won’t.
She breaks eye contact over my right shoulder. Her face flashes fear. Oh, shit, they’re coming.
June turns to run and I follow in her wake. I can feel her power drawing me in. The hairs of my arms, followed my my clothes, my mouth. Before I’m swept into her commotion, I glance back at the children. Dave, Penny, Shell are leading the pack.
This time I land in my third grade classroom. June’s voice in my head says “follow the woman in the Adidas tracksuit”.
I’ll get it right this time.
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You see the woman walk by. The words from your childhood scream inside your mind.
You stand up and walk down the hall to catch up to her. Her pace isn't quick. There are dozens of others following her.
You shuffle at first, but your bones don't hurt anymore. You pick up the pace into a run.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she turns around and smiles.
"Thank you for coming willingly." she says as she reaches out to hug you. She pulls you in tightly.
You feel no warmth from this. You turn around and see down the hall to your room where your body lays motionless.
"Be at peace, friend." she remarks to you and all the others around you as the lights go out.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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I'll never forget that day. My eighth birthday.
I was always a hopeful lad. Never looked down, never looked back. That's just the way I've always been.
But... Even looking forward, chin up like my pappy always taught me, I still to this day can't shake my impulsive slips into reverie whenever I think about then. Think about her.
She showed up out of the blue to our family celebration in the old glade. Ancient plank flooring and simple wooden walls built up in a gazebo like structure my family had frequented and celebrated in for as long as anyone could remember, in the middle of a swamp of all places. She was quiet, standing at the edge of the crowd of relatives and friends that were invited to celebrate my birth. Noone knew who she was, but everyone recognized her somehow. Everyone knew she belonged, despite not knowing why...
After the ceremonies and crowds departed, she approached me. Smiling, serene and contemplative somehow, not unlike Divinci's most famous work. Her mouth didn't seem to move, but she spoke to me all the same. Spoke through me, really. Those few moments lasted an eternity for me, staring into her deep green eyes. Her message imprinted on my mind...
"I've been waiting, child"
She seemed choked up, sobbing almost despite her face not changing a bit. The pause was concerningly long.
"You're his spitting image, you know"
"No. I suppose you don't. The years must have dulled my reasoning"
Her sentences were foreign, yet familiar. Clipped and short, yet maddeningly drawn out. A contradiction in a contradiction in a contradiction, and I understood all the same. And I stood, standing silently frozen in her gentle warmth, waiting for her to finish speaking.
"You're not like the others. Your soul is unique. Your will is like a physical force, unlike him. It pushes you forward."
"You are the one. My selection"
Her words, yet again, translated to me coherently. This time, though, her words washed upon my mind like a tide on a rocky shore, leaving the landscape unchanged as they retreated. I felt like I was missing something fundamental.
"One day, when you come of age, you will understand"
She seemed to respond to my thoughts, I noted idly
"But you aren't ready"
"listen, Child of the Earth. Listen well. A guide will be sent when you mature. Remember well. Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots"
And then it was over, as quickly as it began. I was left staring out into the swampland, my hands gripping the creaking, mossy railing and my heart thundering in my chest. Mother called for me to follow on the journey home, and like always I moved on, however shaken I was.
It was bizarre, and since then I always believed that swamp gas must have distorted my perception. No one else remembered the woman. None but me...
And now, ninety years to the day since then, I lay waiting in a doctors office. A check up, as I had always possessed good health. I was somewhere else, though; wondering, like every year on the anniversary of my hallucination that felt more real than life.
That's when I saw her, right outside the door. Walking past. It was her! We made eye contact briefly, and she strolled on past the door with a beckoning wave.
I did not think. I simply moved with all the ability I had, but even with the agility of a man 30 years younger than me, I couldn't quite catch up. I ran after her, down the hallways and paths, out the door heedless of the staff's words. Down the road, to a farm field.
There was a patch of woods at the edge. She finally stilled, and my burning lungs gave me pause, but I did not heed it. I soldiered on to her, beyond reason. My body simply moved.
"Hello again. It has certainly been longer than I expected"
She once again spoke through me, just as I remembered. I was giddy with excitement and amazement.
"Well, come now. I apologize for the delays, you've been ready for ages... "
She trailed off and beckoned me closer, I obeyed without hesitation as she laid her right palm upon my forehead.
"Just breathe. This will be disorienting, but you will be fine"
Then the world blurred to shades of green.
"Welcome" Many voices spoke in unison.
Like always, I looked forward.
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You see the woman walk by. The words from your childhood scream inside your mind.
You stand up and walk down the hall to catch up to her. Her pace isn't quick. There are dozens of others following her.
You shuffle at first, but your bones don't hurt anymore. You pick up the pace into a run.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she turns around and smiles.
"Thank you for coming willingly." she says as she reaches out to hug you. She pulls you in tightly.
You feel no warmth from this. You turn around and see down the hall to your room where your body lays motionless.
"Be at peace, friend." she remarks to you and all the others around you as the lights go out.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"Madam please", I said, "The medicine is for my great grandfather, he is in constant pain and needs them to relieve it."
The Nurse responded "Sir, you came in here with a fake white beard saying you were 98 years old, while clearly at most 60 years younger, and asking for CBD, and if it were for your great grandfather then head to your pharmacist and pick it up, now leave before I call security."
"Madam I can't go to the pharmacy they won't let me in because some fickle thing I did a couple weeks back, and this is where he was diagnosed with his arthritis, so I thoug-".
"I'm calling now Sir."
"Wait wait wait, I'll go, I'm leaving, I'm sorry."
The nurse shoed me out into the hall where I just stood in silence, dawning on what I had just done for my great grandfather. I had just lied in hospital pretending to be 98 so I could help Paps' pain to stop.
After my father had died, all other family wouldn't take me in. Even at the funeral family members had called me "half blood", "freak", and "crybaby". Even a little one came over and kicked me, and that's where Paps lost it. He was screaming and hollering at how closed minded they were, and how I "didn't deserve this". He quickly took me out of there before I could even thank him.
If he had never had took me in the rest of my family would have left me there to just rot. I was only 10 at the time, but I knew I would follow everything Paps would tell me to do to the letter.
The same night as the funeral I heard a voice say "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots. I asked Paps in the morning if it was him and he just sat there silent. In those silent seconds I knew I had touched a nerve that I should never even breath upon again.
And now here I am in a hospital hall crying thinking of all Paps has done for me. Had done for me. Will have done for me. I had hoped for more time with him, at least to hear one more story of his times at war, at least to tell him how my day was after a hard day at work, at least to just thank him once more.
I sat there silent feeling that same fear I had all those years ago in those silent seconds.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice say.
I looked up to see something I never thought would see since I heard those mysterious words 18 years ago. It was a woman in a red dress in gold polka dots.
"Yeah", I said, "Never better".
-I might write a continuance, but I think I did terrible at this so I might not, I just hope one person likes this.-
-Have a nice night.-
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You see the woman walk by. The words from your childhood scream inside your mind.
You stand up and walk down the hall to catch up to her. Her pace isn't quick. There are dozens of others following her.
You shuffle at first, but your bones don't hurt anymore. You pick up the pace into a run.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she turns around and smiles.
"Thank you for coming willingly." she says as she reaches out to hug you. She pulls you in tightly.
You feel no warmth from this. You turn around and see down the hall to your room where your body lays motionless.
"Be at peace, friend." she remarks to you and all the others around you as the lights go out.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
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You see the woman walk by. The words from your childhood scream inside your mind.
You stand up and walk down the hall to catch up to her. Her pace isn't quick. There are dozens of others following her.
You shuffle at first, but your bones don't hurt anymore. You pick up the pace into a run.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she turns around and smiles.
"Thank you for coming willingly." she says as she reaches out to hug you. She pulls you in tightly.
You feel no warmth from this. You turn around and see down the hall to your room where your body lays motionless.
"Be at peace, friend." she remarks to you and all the others around you as the lights go out.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
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You see the woman walk by. The words from your childhood scream inside your mind.
You stand up and walk down the hall to catch up to her. Her pace isn't quick. There are dozens of others following her.
You shuffle at first, but your bones don't hurt anymore. You pick up the pace into a run.
Tapping her on the shoulder, she turns around and smiles.
"Thank you for coming willingly." she says as she reaches out to hug you. She pulls you in tightly.
You feel no warmth from this. You turn around and see down the hall to your room where your body lays motionless.
"Be at peace, friend." she remarks to you and all the others around you as the lights go out.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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Sorry for the format. Typing on my phone.
She appeared to me in the night, beautiful blonde hair, milky white skin, and a stunning red dress, with golden polka dots.
She said nothing, but her eyes and smile said everything. Holding out her hand, I reached for it. She was soft, and warm, a sense of calm washed over my old, cancer stricken body.
For the first time in months, I stood up. I had been bed ridden since early spring. 98 years old, and dying of pancreatic cancer. I had spent days thinking of my life, and the people that I was going to leave behind.
As I stared at this beautiful woman holding my hand, an old memory surfaced...I was barely six, and I had a dream that told me to follow the woman that was now standing in my hospital room, 96 years later.
I briefly felt scared, but her eyes and smile told me not to be. I took a deep breath, as she gently squeezed my feeble hand, guiding me towards the door.
We slipped into the darkened hallway, the hospice wing was quiet, save for the sounds of the sleeping and sick. We moved along the hallways, never letting my hand go. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't figure out why.
As we continued walking in silence, I began to notice my surroundings change. We were no longer in the hospital, but now in a stunning field of grass, with the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. The woman turned to me and said, "David, you have come to the end of your journey, and I have watched you live a life of happiness and love. It is time to be with your own".
She smiled again, as she began to change shape.
In her place stood my best friend from my childhood.
It was Dot. My golden retriever.
She was as beautiful as I had remembered. I was 6 when she passed of old age. There she stood now in all her glory. Beautiful golden yellow fur, and the red handkerchief that I tied around her neck.
She sat beside me, my old body betraying me, shaking with the excitement of seeing my best friend again.
Then I heard the voice again, that I had heard all those years ago., " Follow me now David, you are home.
Dot nudged me and I smiled.
I was home now.
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I lived a good life. A loving wife, wonderful kids, a beautiful house, a stable job, what else can I ask for. I didn't feel fulfilled, something was missing.
It happened when I was 8 or 10, the age is fuzzy to me. I was awake late at night when a figure appeared in my bedroom. I wasn't scared, no, I felt warm, content. I felt safe. I can't remember what the figure looked like, but it was a woman, a woman in a very pale blue dress. She watched me for a minute, then spoke
"Follow her"
"Who?" I asked
"The woman in a red dress littered in golden spots."
Then, she was gone.
I waited for days, month, years, decades, but I never saw this woman...until now.
Here I lay in a my death bed. No one here at the moment.
It took me a minute but I manged to stand. When I walked out of the room, she was standing there. She had a perfectly clear face, with fiery red hair that seemed to dance with her every movement.
She gave me a smile, and held my hand.
I don't know why that figure came to me all those years ago but I thank her. I feel warm, I feel content, I feel safe.
She lead me to what was ahead, a calming, white light.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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I almost missed her. Now that I’ve absorbed ‘the miracle’ I feel a sharp shame and anger. How could I have let it go that far. Stuck in a hospital bed, weak and slow. Only the hem of her dress, that flash of gold, between me and... I can’t even.
Embarrassed, I look down at my plump fingers. Then I pull out my phone and snap a selfie for reassurance.
June turns the corner and locks eyes menacingly. She has changed out of her party dress but her makeup is still overdone. I want to touch her, but I won’t.
She breaks eye contact over my right shoulder. Her face flashes fear. Oh, shit, they’re coming.
June turns to run and I follow in her wake. I can feel her power drawing me in. The hairs of my arms, followed my my clothes, my mouth. Before I’m swept into her commotion, I glance back at the children. Dave, Penny, Shell are leading the pack.
This time I land in my third grade classroom. June’s voice in my head says “follow the woman in the Adidas tracksuit”.
I’ll get it right this time.
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I lived a good life. A loving wife, wonderful kids, a beautiful house, a stable job, what else can I ask for. I didn't feel fulfilled, something was missing.
It happened when I was 8 or 10, the age is fuzzy to me. I was awake late at night when a figure appeared in my bedroom. I wasn't scared, no, I felt warm, content. I felt safe. I can't remember what the figure looked like, but it was a woman, a woman in a very pale blue dress. She watched me for a minute, then spoke
"Follow her"
"Who?" I asked
"The woman in a red dress littered in golden spots."
Then, she was gone.
I waited for days, month, years, decades, but I never saw this woman...until now.
Here I lay in a my death bed. No one here at the moment.
It took me a minute but I manged to stand. When I walked out of the room, she was standing there. She had a perfectly clear face, with fiery red hair that seemed to dance with her every movement.
She gave me a smile, and held my hand.
I don't know why that figure came to me all those years ago but I thank her. I feel warm, I feel content, I feel safe.
She lead me to what was ahead, a calming, white light.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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I'll never forget that day. My eighth birthday.
I was always a hopeful lad. Never looked down, never looked back. That's just the way I've always been.
But... Even looking forward, chin up like my pappy always taught me, I still to this day can't shake my impulsive slips into reverie whenever I think about then. Think about her.
She showed up out of the blue to our family celebration in the old glade. Ancient plank flooring and simple wooden walls built up in a gazebo like structure my family had frequented and celebrated in for as long as anyone could remember, in the middle of a swamp of all places. She was quiet, standing at the edge of the crowd of relatives and friends that were invited to celebrate my birth. Noone knew who she was, but everyone recognized her somehow. Everyone knew she belonged, despite not knowing why...
After the ceremonies and crowds departed, she approached me. Smiling, serene and contemplative somehow, not unlike Divinci's most famous work. Her mouth didn't seem to move, but she spoke to me all the same. Spoke through me, really. Those few moments lasted an eternity for me, staring into her deep green eyes. Her message imprinted on my mind...
"I've been waiting, child"
She seemed choked up, sobbing almost despite her face not changing a bit. The pause was concerningly long.
"You're his spitting image, you know"
"No. I suppose you don't. The years must have dulled my reasoning"
Her sentences were foreign, yet familiar. Clipped and short, yet maddeningly drawn out. A contradiction in a contradiction in a contradiction, and I understood all the same. And I stood, standing silently frozen in her gentle warmth, waiting for her to finish speaking.
"You're not like the others. Your soul is unique. Your will is like a physical force, unlike him. It pushes you forward."
"You are the one. My selection"
Her words, yet again, translated to me coherently. This time, though, her words washed upon my mind like a tide on a rocky shore, leaving the landscape unchanged as they retreated. I felt like I was missing something fundamental.
"One day, when you come of age, you will understand"
She seemed to respond to my thoughts, I noted idly
"But you aren't ready"
"listen, Child of the Earth. Listen well. A guide will be sent when you mature. Remember well. Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots"
And then it was over, as quickly as it began. I was left staring out into the swampland, my hands gripping the creaking, mossy railing and my heart thundering in my chest. Mother called for me to follow on the journey home, and like always I moved on, however shaken I was.
It was bizarre, and since then I always believed that swamp gas must have distorted my perception. No one else remembered the woman. None but me...
And now, ninety years to the day since then, I lay waiting in a doctors office. A check up, as I had always possessed good health. I was somewhere else, though; wondering, like every year on the anniversary of my hallucination that felt more real than life.
That's when I saw her, right outside the door. Walking past. It was her! We made eye contact briefly, and she strolled on past the door with a beckoning wave.
I did not think. I simply moved with all the ability I had, but even with the agility of a man 30 years younger than me, I couldn't quite catch up. I ran after her, down the hallways and paths, out the door heedless of the staff's words. Down the road, to a farm field.
There was a patch of woods at the edge. She finally stilled, and my burning lungs gave me pause, but I did not heed it. I soldiered on to her, beyond reason. My body simply moved.
"Hello again. It has certainly been longer than I expected"
She once again spoke through me, just as I remembered. I was giddy with excitement and amazement.
"Well, come now. I apologize for the delays, you've been ready for ages... "
She trailed off and beckoned me closer, I obeyed without hesitation as she laid her right palm upon my forehead.
"Just breathe. This will be disorienting, but you will be fine"
Then the world blurred to shades of green.
"Welcome" Many voices spoke in unison.
Like always, I looked forward.
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I lived a good life. A loving wife, wonderful kids, a beautiful house, a stable job, what else can I ask for. I didn't feel fulfilled, something was missing.
It happened when I was 8 or 10, the age is fuzzy to me. I was awake late at night when a figure appeared in my bedroom. I wasn't scared, no, I felt warm, content. I felt safe. I can't remember what the figure looked like, but it was a woman, a woman in a very pale blue dress. She watched me for a minute, then spoke
"Follow her"
"Who?" I asked
"The woman in a red dress littered in golden spots."
Then, she was gone.
I waited for days, month, years, decades, but I never saw this woman...until now.
Here I lay in a my death bed. No one here at the moment.
It took me a minute but I manged to stand. When I walked out of the room, she was standing there. She had a perfectly clear face, with fiery red hair that seemed to dance with her every movement.
She gave me a smile, and held my hand.
I don't know why that figure came to me all those years ago but I thank her. I feel warm, I feel content, I feel safe.
She lead me to what was ahead, a calming, white light.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"Madam please", I said, "The medicine is for my great grandfather, he is in constant pain and needs them to relieve it."
The Nurse responded "Sir, you came in here with a fake white beard saying you were 98 years old, while clearly at most 60 years younger, and asking for CBD, and if it were for your great grandfather then head to your pharmacist and pick it up, now leave before I call security."
"Madam I can't go to the pharmacy they won't let me in because some fickle thing I did a couple weeks back, and this is where he was diagnosed with his arthritis, so I thoug-".
"I'm calling now Sir."
"Wait wait wait, I'll go, I'm leaving, I'm sorry."
The nurse shoed me out into the hall where I just stood in silence, dawning on what I had just done for my great grandfather. I had just lied in hospital pretending to be 98 so I could help Paps' pain to stop.
After my father had died, all other family wouldn't take me in. Even at the funeral family members had called me "half blood", "freak", and "crybaby". Even a little one came over and kicked me, and that's where Paps lost it. He was screaming and hollering at how closed minded they were, and how I "didn't deserve this". He quickly took me out of there before I could even thank him.
If he had never had took me in the rest of my family would have left me there to just rot. I was only 10 at the time, but I knew I would follow everything Paps would tell me to do to the letter.
The same night as the funeral I heard a voice say "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots. I asked Paps in the morning if it was him and he just sat there silent. In those silent seconds I knew I had touched a nerve that I should never even breath upon again.
And now here I am in a hospital hall crying thinking of all Paps has done for me. Had done for me. Will have done for me. I had hoped for more time with him, at least to hear one more story of his times at war, at least to tell him how my day was after a hard day at work, at least to just thank him once more.
I sat there silent feeling that same fear I had all those years ago in those silent seconds.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice say.
I looked up to see something I never thought would see since I heard those mysterious words 18 years ago. It was a woman in a red dress in gold polka dots.
"Yeah", I said, "Never better".
-I might write a continuance, but I think I did terrible at this so I might not, I just hope one person likes this.-
-Have a nice night.-
|
I lived a good life. A loving wife, wonderful kids, a beautiful house, a stable job, what else can I ask for. I didn't feel fulfilled, something was missing.
It happened when I was 8 or 10, the age is fuzzy to me. I was awake late at night when a figure appeared in my bedroom. I wasn't scared, no, I felt warm, content. I felt safe. I can't remember what the figure looked like, but it was a woman, a woman in a very pale blue dress. She watched me for a minute, then spoke
"Follow her"
"Who?" I asked
"The woman in a red dress littered in golden spots."
Then, she was gone.
I waited for days, month, years, decades, but I never saw this woman...until now.
Here I lay in a my death bed. No one here at the moment.
It took me a minute but I manged to stand. When I walked out of the room, she was standing there. She had a perfectly clear face, with fiery red hair that seemed to dance with her every movement.
She gave me a smile, and held my hand.
I don't know why that figure came to me all those years ago but I thank her. I feel warm, I feel content, I feel safe.
She lead me to what was ahead, a calming, white light.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
|
I lived a good life. A loving wife, wonderful kids, a beautiful house, a stable job, what else can I ask for. I didn't feel fulfilled, something was missing.
It happened when I was 8 or 10, the age is fuzzy to me. I was awake late at night when a figure appeared in my bedroom. I wasn't scared, no, I felt warm, content. I felt safe. I can't remember what the figure looked like, but it was a woman, a woman in a very pale blue dress. She watched me for a minute, then spoke
"Follow her"
"Who?" I asked
"The woman in a red dress littered in golden spots."
Then, she was gone.
I waited for days, month, years, decades, but I never saw this woman...until now.
Here I lay in a my death bed. No one here at the moment.
It took me a minute but I manged to stand. When I walked out of the room, she was standing there. She had a perfectly clear face, with fiery red hair that seemed to dance with her every movement.
She gave me a smile, and held my hand.
I don't know why that figure came to me all those years ago but I thank her. I feel warm, I feel content, I feel safe.
She lead me to what was ahead, a calming, white light.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
|
I lived a good life. A loving wife, wonderful kids, a beautiful house, a stable job, what else can I ask for. I didn't feel fulfilled, something was missing.
It happened when I was 8 or 10, the age is fuzzy to me. I was awake late at night when a figure appeared in my bedroom. I wasn't scared, no, I felt warm, content. I felt safe. I can't remember what the figure looked like, but it was a woman, a woman in a very pale blue dress. She watched me for a minute, then spoke
"Follow her"
"Who?" I asked
"The woman in a red dress littered in golden spots."
Then, she was gone.
I waited for days, month, years, decades, but I never saw this woman...until now.
Here I lay in a my death bed. No one here at the moment.
It took me a minute but I manged to stand. When I walked out of the room, she was standing there. She had a perfectly clear face, with fiery red hair that seemed to dance with her every movement.
She gave me a smile, and held my hand.
I don't know why that figure came to me all those years ago but I thank her. I feel warm, I feel content, I feel safe.
She lead me to what was ahead, a calming, white light.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"Madam please", I said, "The medicine is for my great grandfather, he is in constant pain and needs them to relieve it."
The Nurse responded "Sir, you came in here with a fake white beard saying you were 98 years old, while clearly at most 60 years younger, and asking for CBD, and if it were for your great grandfather then head to your pharmacist and pick it up, now leave before I call security."
"Madam I can't go to the pharmacy they won't let me in because some fickle thing I did a couple weeks back, and this is where he was diagnosed with his arthritis, so I thoug-".
"I'm calling now Sir."
"Wait wait wait, I'll go, I'm leaving, I'm sorry."
The nurse shoed me out into the hall where I just stood in silence, dawning on what I had just done for my great grandfather. I had just lied in hospital pretending to be 98 so I could help Paps' pain to stop.
After my father had died, all other family wouldn't take me in. Even at the funeral family members had called me "half blood", "freak", and "crybaby". Even a little one came over and kicked me, and that's where Paps lost it. He was screaming and hollering at how closed minded they were, and how I "didn't deserve this". He quickly took me out of there before I could even thank him.
If he had never had took me in the rest of my family would have left me there to just rot. I was only 10 at the time, but I knew I would follow everything Paps would tell me to do to the letter.
The same night as the funeral I heard a voice say "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots. I asked Paps in the morning if it was him and he just sat there silent. In those silent seconds I knew I had touched a nerve that I should never even breath upon again.
And now here I am in a hospital hall crying thinking of all Paps has done for me. Had done for me. Will have done for me. I had hoped for more time with him, at least to hear one more story of his times at war, at least to tell him how my day was after a hard day at work, at least to just thank him once more.
I sat there silent feeling that same fear I had all those years ago in those silent seconds.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice say.
I looked up to see something I never thought would see since I heard those mysterious words 18 years ago. It was a woman in a red dress in gold polka dots.
"Yeah", I said, "Never better".
-I might write a continuance, but I think I did terrible at this so I might not, I just hope one person likes this.-
-Have a nice night.-
|
A streak of red flashed in corner of Oscar's eye. The wrinkled, withered man's focus was on the TV until something caught his eye. He was so used to different shades of whites, greens, and pinks passing his doorway that the bright crimson color demanded his attention. He turned in time to see an elegant, lithe woman in a red dress with gold polka dots walking by. Oscar gasped in surprise. As much as a nearly hundred-year-old man could; he weakly inhaled with a ragged breath.
"Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots," the mysterious voice echoed in his memory again. The first and only time he heard it was when he was eight years old. No matter how often he tried to talk himself out of it, something in him was convinced the voice was real. Almost every day for 90 years he considered the words but never found the woman. Now he was bedridden in the hospital expecting to die any day; he couldn't walk. And, she just walked by.
"Hey!" He tried shouting, but his lungs couldn't push out enough air to get a decent volume. Thinking quickly, he frantically pressed the call nurse button. Oscar felt lucky when a nurse showed up at his door suddenly, as if she was just passing by.
"Everything okay?" She asked as she stepped into his room. Oscar pointed out the door.
"I need to talk to the woman in the red dress!" he said as loud and clear as he could manage. She gave him a confused look, but Oscar continued pointing out the door. "Please!" She nodded then stepped out in the hall and turned the direction Oscar pointed.
He was surprised when the nurse returned with the woman in the red dress. He half expected her to have disappeared by the time he got the nurse's attention.
"Here she is, Mr. Woods," the nurse said with a smile. "Was that all you needed?" The old man nodded.
"Thank you, Nurse," Oscar turned his attention to the woman as the nurse left. She did not seem put-off. She smiled at Oscar with warm, friendly eyes but she did not say anything.
"90 years ago... a voice told me to follow you," Oscar said. At 98 he knew any of his words could be his last; he wanted to get right to the point.
"OH SHIT!" the woman cursed as if she'd left the oven on. She immediately rushed to Oscar's bedside and sat down. "I'm sorry!" She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "Its too easy to lose track of time," she said with an apologetic tone. "I didn't mean to make you wait this long." Oscar felt strength returning to his body; it seemed to be coming from her.
"Wait this long for what?" Oscar asked. "What's going on? Who was that voice that told me to follow you?" The dim hospital room seemed to grow brighter; everything looked sharper. Oscar could now see individual strands of her short black hair. He spotted a small green leaf tucked in her hair. "How did you lose track of 90 years?" he asked.
"By not getting caught up in the details," she replied. "90 years is nothing, don't worry about it."
"Nothing?" Oscar asked. "Look at me! I'm old and wrinkled and I've completely missed out on whatever I was destined for after I followed you." He did not expect to be so angry. Having her show up on his death bed was worse than her not showing up at all and it was a bitter pill to swallow. The fact that she was real somehow highlighted how much he wasted his life hoping she was.
"I don't appreciate being yelled at," the woman said. She pushed at Oscar with sudden, unexpected strength and he spilled out of his hospital bed onto the floor.
"WHAT THE HELL!" Oscar yelled as he stood up from the floor. He angrily marched around the bed to yell in her face; but, he stopped before any more of his anger spilled out. He stood in place and shifted his weight from leg to leg, almost dancing. He looked at his hands and fidgeted his fingers; then he turned them over to look at the back. All the wrinkles were gone; his hands had the same taut, supple skin of his early 20s. "What the hell?" he asked her, but instead of waiting for an answer he rushed into the bathroom. "OH MY GOD!" Oscar screamed from inside the bathroom then dashed out again. "What are you?" young Oscar asked. His wrinkles were gone, the steel-grey horseshoe around his bald his was filled in completely with thick dark hair.
The woman smiled and walked toward him; she reached up to her hair and pulled the small green leaf out of her hair. Once she was in front of him, Oscar caught a whiff of fresh peppermint from the green sprig.
"I'm a recruiter," she said while she affixed the peppermint to his hospital gown. "I'm a bit late, but you've been recruited,"
"For what?" Oscar asked. The woman finished pinning the peppermint to him and stepped away. Oscar immediately felt a warm, friendly sensation in his mind. His mind began to fill with thoughts, though none of them seemed to be his own. He felt as if he were sitting alone in a library his whole life, but now his friends finally showed up. Bits of conversation murmured in his mind while he tried to get a grip on the sensation. Then, the voice from his childhood spoke again.
"Ah, there you are," the voice said. All the other conversations in Oscar's mind died down. "Welcome to Peppermint's Forest," the voice sounded in Oscar's mind; louder and clearer than his own mental voice. "You must be happy to join us," Oscar felt warmth and pride swell in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the voice or his own thought, but it didn't matter. Oscar felt happy to join them.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #311 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
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|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
|
A streak of red flashed in corner of Oscar's eye. The wrinkled, withered man's focus was on the TV until something caught his eye. He was so used to different shades of whites, greens, and pinks passing his doorway that the bright crimson color demanded his attention. He turned in time to see an elegant, lithe woman in a red dress with gold polka dots walking by. Oscar gasped in surprise. As much as a nearly hundred-year-old man could; he weakly inhaled with a ragged breath.
"Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots," the mysterious voice echoed in his memory again. The first and only time he heard it was when he was eight years old. No matter how often he tried to talk himself out of it, something in him was convinced the voice was real. Almost every day for 90 years he considered the words but never found the woman. Now he was bedridden in the hospital expecting to die any day; he couldn't walk. And, she just walked by.
"Hey!" He tried shouting, but his lungs couldn't push out enough air to get a decent volume. Thinking quickly, he frantically pressed the call nurse button. Oscar felt lucky when a nurse showed up at his door suddenly, as if she was just passing by.
"Everything okay?" She asked as she stepped into his room. Oscar pointed out the door.
"I need to talk to the woman in the red dress!" he said as loud and clear as he could manage. She gave him a confused look, but Oscar continued pointing out the door. "Please!" She nodded then stepped out in the hall and turned the direction Oscar pointed.
He was surprised when the nurse returned with the woman in the red dress. He half expected her to have disappeared by the time he got the nurse's attention.
"Here she is, Mr. Woods," the nurse said with a smile. "Was that all you needed?" The old man nodded.
"Thank you, Nurse," Oscar turned his attention to the woman as the nurse left. She did not seem put-off. She smiled at Oscar with warm, friendly eyes but she did not say anything.
"90 years ago... a voice told me to follow you," Oscar said. At 98 he knew any of his words could be his last; he wanted to get right to the point.
"OH SHIT!" the woman cursed as if she'd left the oven on. She immediately rushed to Oscar's bedside and sat down. "I'm sorry!" She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "Its too easy to lose track of time," she said with an apologetic tone. "I didn't mean to make you wait this long." Oscar felt strength returning to his body; it seemed to be coming from her.
"Wait this long for what?" Oscar asked. "What's going on? Who was that voice that told me to follow you?" The dim hospital room seemed to grow brighter; everything looked sharper. Oscar could now see individual strands of her short black hair. He spotted a small green leaf tucked in her hair. "How did you lose track of 90 years?" he asked.
"By not getting caught up in the details," she replied. "90 years is nothing, don't worry about it."
"Nothing?" Oscar asked. "Look at me! I'm old and wrinkled and I've completely missed out on whatever I was destined for after I followed you." He did not expect to be so angry. Having her show up on his death bed was worse than her not showing up at all and it was a bitter pill to swallow. The fact that she was real somehow highlighted how much he wasted his life hoping she was.
"I don't appreciate being yelled at," the woman said. She pushed at Oscar with sudden, unexpected strength and he spilled out of his hospital bed onto the floor.
"WHAT THE HELL!" Oscar yelled as he stood up from the floor. He angrily marched around the bed to yell in her face; but, he stopped before any more of his anger spilled out. He stood in place and shifted his weight from leg to leg, almost dancing. He looked at his hands and fidgeted his fingers; then he turned them over to look at the back. All the wrinkles were gone; his hands had the same taut, supple skin of his early 20s. "What the hell?" he asked her, but instead of waiting for an answer he rushed into the bathroom. "OH MY GOD!" Oscar screamed from inside the bathroom then dashed out again. "What are you?" young Oscar asked. His wrinkles were gone, the steel-grey horseshoe around his bald his was filled in completely with thick dark hair.
The woman smiled and walked toward him; she reached up to her hair and pulled the small green leaf out of her hair. Once she was in front of him, Oscar caught a whiff of fresh peppermint from the green sprig.
"I'm a recruiter," she said while she affixed the peppermint to his hospital gown. "I'm a bit late, but you've been recruited,"
"For what?" Oscar asked. The woman finished pinning the peppermint to him and stepped away. Oscar immediately felt a warm, friendly sensation in his mind. His mind began to fill with thoughts, though none of them seemed to be his own. He felt as if he were sitting alone in a library his whole life, but now his friends finally showed up. Bits of conversation murmured in his mind while he tried to get a grip on the sensation. Then, the voice from his childhood spoke again.
"Ah, there you are," the voice said. All the other conversations in Oscar's mind died down. "Welcome to Peppermint's Forest," the voice sounded in Oscar's mind; louder and clearer than his own mental voice. "You must be happy to join us," Oscar felt warmth and pride swell in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the voice or his own thought, but it didn't matter. Oscar felt happy to join them.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #311 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
|
A streak of red flashed in corner of Oscar's eye. The wrinkled, withered man's focus was on the TV until something caught his eye. He was so used to different shades of whites, greens, and pinks passing his doorway that the bright crimson color demanded his attention. He turned in time to see an elegant, lithe woman in a red dress with gold polka dots walking by. Oscar gasped in surprise. As much as a nearly hundred-year-old man could; he weakly inhaled with a ragged breath.
"Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots," the mysterious voice echoed in his memory again. The first and only time he heard it was when he was eight years old. No matter how often he tried to talk himself out of it, something in him was convinced the voice was real. Almost every day for 90 years he considered the words but never found the woman. Now he was bedridden in the hospital expecting to die any day; he couldn't walk. And, she just walked by.
"Hey!" He tried shouting, but his lungs couldn't push out enough air to get a decent volume. Thinking quickly, he frantically pressed the call nurse button. Oscar felt lucky when a nurse showed up at his door suddenly, as if she was just passing by.
"Everything okay?" She asked as she stepped into his room. Oscar pointed out the door.
"I need to talk to the woman in the red dress!" he said as loud and clear as he could manage. She gave him a confused look, but Oscar continued pointing out the door. "Please!" She nodded then stepped out in the hall and turned the direction Oscar pointed.
He was surprised when the nurse returned with the woman in the red dress. He half expected her to have disappeared by the time he got the nurse's attention.
"Here she is, Mr. Woods," the nurse said with a smile. "Was that all you needed?" The old man nodded.
"Thank you, Nurse," Oscar turned his attention to the woman as the nurse left. She did not seem put-off. She smiled at Oscar with warm, friendly eyes but she did not say anything.
"90 years ago... a voice told me to follow you," Oscar said. At 98 he knew any of his words could be his last; he wanted to get right to the point.
"OH SHIT!" the woman cursed as if she'd left the oven on. She immediately rushed to Oscar's bedside and sat down. "I'm sorry!" She reached for his hand and squeezed it gently. "Its too easy to lose track of time," she said with an apologetic tone. "I didn't mean to make you wait this long." Oscar felt strength returning to his body; it seemed to be coming from her.
"Wait this long for what?" Oscar asked. "What's going on? Who was that voice that told me to follow you?" The dim hospital room seemed to grow brighter; everything looked sharper. Oscar could now see individual strands of her short black hair. He spotted a small green leaf tucked in her hair. "How did you lose track of 90 years?" he asked.
"By not getting caught up in the details," she replied. "90 years is nothing, don't worry about it."
"Nothing?" Oscar asked. "Look at me! I'm old and wrinkled and I've completely missed out on whatever I was destined for after I followed you." He did not expect to be so angry. Having her show up on his death bed was worse than her not showing up at all and it was a bitter pill to swallow. The fact that she was real somehow highlighted how much he wasted his life hoping she was.
"I don't appreciate being yelled at," the woman said. She pushed at Oscar with sudden, unexpected strength and he spilled out of his hospital bed onto the floor.
"WHAT THE HELL!" Oscar yelled as he stood up from the floor. He angrily marched around the bed to yell in her face; but, he stopped before any more of his anger spilled out. He stood in place and shifted his weight from leg to leg, almost dancing. He looked at his hands and fidgeted his fingers; then he turned them over to look at the back. All the wrinkles were gone; his hands had the same taut, supple skin of his early 20s. "What the hell?" he asked her, but instead of waiting for an answer he rushed into the bathroom. "OH MY GOD!" Oscar screamed from inside the bathroom then dashed out again. "What are you?" young Oscar asked. His wrinkles were gone, the steel-grey horseshoe around his bald his was filled in completely with thick dark hair.
The woman smiled and walked toward him; she reached up to her hair and pulled the small green leaf out of her hair. Once she was in front of him, Oscar caught a whiff of fresh peppermint from the green sprig.
"I'm a recruiter," she said while she affixed the peppermint to his hospital gown. "I'm a bit late, but you've been recruited,"
"For what?" Oscar asked. The woman finished pinning the peppermint to him and stepped away. Oscar immediately felt a warm, friendly sensation in his mind. His mind began to fill with thoughts, though none of them seemed to be his own. He felt as if he were sitting alone in a library his whole life, but now his friends finally showed up. Bits of conversation murmured in his mind while he tried to get a grip on the sensation. Then, the voice from his childhood spoke again.
"Ah, there you are," the voice said. All the other conversations in Oscar's mind died down. "Welcome to Peppermint's Forest," the voice sounded in Oscar's mind; louder and clearer than his own mental voice. "You must be happy to join us," Oscar felt warmth and pride swell in his chest. He wasn't entirely sure if it was the voice or his own thought, but it didn't matter. Oscar felt happy to join them.
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #311 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"Madam please", I said, "The medicine is for my great grandfather, he is in constant pain and needs them to relieve it."
The Nurse responded "Sir, you came in here with a fake white beard saying you were 98 years old, while clearly at most 60 years younger, and asking for CBD, and if it were for your great grandfather then head to your pharmacist and pick it up, now leave before I call security."
"Madam I can't go to the pharmacy they won't let me in because some fickle thing I did a couple weeks back, and this is where he was diagnosed with his arthritis, so I thoug-".
"I'm calling now Sir."
"Wait wait wait, I'll go, I'm leaving, I'm sorry."
The nurse shoed me out into the hall where I just stood in silence, dawning on what I had just done for my great grandfather. I had just lied in hospital pretending to be 98 so I could help Paps' pain to stop.
After my father had died, all other family wouldn't take me in. Even at the funeral family members had called me "half blood", "freak", and "crybaby". Even a little one came over and kicked me, and that's where Paps lost it. He was screaming and hollering at how closed minded they were, and how I "didn't deserve this". He quickly took me out of there before I could even thank him.
If he had never had took me in the rest of my family would have left me there to just rot. I was only 10 at the time, but I knew I would follow everything Paps would tell me to do to the letter.
The same night as the funeral I heard a voice say "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots. I asked Paps in the morning if it was him and he just sat there silent. In those silent seconds I knew I had touched a nerve that I should never even breath upon again.
And now here I am in a hospital hall crying thinking of all Paps has done for me. Had done for me. Will have done for me. I had hoped for more time with him, at least to hear one more story of his times at war, at least to tell him how my day was after a hard day at work, at least to just thank him once more.
I sat there silent feeling that same fear I had all those years ago in those silent seconds.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice say.
I looked up to see something I never thought would see since I heard those mysterious words 18 years ago. It was a woman in a red dress in gold polka dots.
"Yeah", I said, "Never better".
-I might write a continuance, but I think I did terrible at this so I might not, I just hope one person likes this.-
-Have a nice night.-
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Lucia closed her eyes, relaxing her grip on the hospital bed. *It isn't over yet. It can't be.*
"Why not?" Lucia's eyes opened to see an imaginary friend of hers from when she was little, one she hadn't seen for almost a century now. The cat hopped up onto the bed, licking its paws and pushing them across its navy wings. "Why are you so upset with this whole death thing? It's not like you have so much left to do."
Lucia held her hands back from petting it. Darn ol' Dennis, never worried about another's feelings. At least he was honest. *And what's so wrong with wanting to live? My family needs me*.
"Your family? They'll miss you, sure, but they've seen this coming a while now. You know they can manage on their own without an old lady like you holding 'em down."
*Hey!*
"What? I mean, they love you and all, but you are old. You're dying, Lucia. Why won't you just accept it?"
Lucia closed her eyes. She brought her hands to her lap, and Dennis was not there. Nobody was there. Flicking mandalas appeared behind her closed eyes, and she could hear talking in another room. Footsteps down the hallway--louder, louder, then soft. And finally all she could hear was the humming of machines. She rubbed her hands against each other. They felt cold. Knobby, old. The earth pulled her down, gentle but firm, until all of a sudden she felt all floaty.
Lucia's eyes flew open of their own accord, and her hands reached for the sides of the hospital bed. What a relief it was she could still feel them there. She sighed and turned to the hallway. Dennis's voice repeated itself to her quietly--"It's not like you have so much left to do." He never said there was nothing. What kept pulling at her? What one thing could be holding her down?
A woman passed by the room, wearing a long scarlet dress with childish golden polka dots. Lucia giggled and stood up to follow. Why not? It seemed now that the memory of a voice was just beyond reach, the feel of the voice so clear and familiar yet not quite there. Her lips traced words that weren't words. She giggled some more. She kept following. The woman in the red dress walked at a brisk pace, and Lucia skipped after her, bouncy and giddy like a little girl. She couldn't explain why, but everything seemed alright now. Her skips became longer and higher, and she felt she could touch the moon. Somehow they were no longer in a hospital, but a field of white similar to the florescent lights and softer. The woman twirled around and took Lucia in her arms, and they spun and spun. Who needs life? Who needs earth? What good is any of that in Death's beautiful embrace?
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
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Lucia closed her eyes, relaxing her grip on the hospital bed. *It isn't over yet. It can't be.*
"Why not?" Lucia's eyes opened to see an imaginary friend of hers from when she was little, one she hadn't seen for almost a century now. The cat hopped up onto the bed, licking its paws and pushing them across its navy wings. "Why are you so upset with this whole death thing? It's not like you have so much left to do."
Lucia held her hands back from petting it. Darn ol' Dennis, never worried about another's feelings. At least he was honest. *And what's so wrong with wanting to live? My family needs me*.
"Your family? They'll miss you, sure, but they've seen this coming a while now. You know they can manage on their own without an old lady like you holding 'em down."
*Hey!*
"What? I mean, they love you and all, but you are old. You're dying, Lucia. Why won't you just accept it?"
Lucia closed her eyes. She brought her hands to her lap, and Dennis was not there. Nobody was there. Flicking mandalas appeared behind her closed eyes, and she could hear talking in another room. Footsteps down the hallway--louder, louder, then soft. And finally all she could hear was the humming of machines. She rubbed her hands against each other. They felt cold. Knobby, old. The earth pulled her down, gentle but firm, until all of a sudden she felt all floaty.
Lucia's eyes flew open of their own accord, and her hands reached for the sides of the hospital bed. What a relief it was she could still feel them there. She sighed and turned to the hallway. Dennis's voice repeated itself to her quietly--"It's not like you have so much left to do." He never said there was nothing. What kept pulling at her? What one thing could be holding her down?
A woman passed by the room, wearing a long scarlet dress with childish golden polka dots. Lucia giggled and stood up to follow. Why not? It seemed now that the memory of a voice was just beyond reach, the feel of the voice so clear and familiar yet not quite there. Her lips traced words that weren't words. She giggled some more. She kept following. The woman in the red dress walked at a brisk pace, and Lucia skipped after her, bouncy and giddy like a little girl. She couldn't explain why, but everything seemed alright now. Her skips became longer and higher, and she felt she could touch the moon. Somehow they were no longer in a hospital, but a field of white similar to the florescent lights and softer. The woman twirled around and took Lucia in her arms, and they spun and spun. Who needs life? Who needs earth? What good is any of that in Death's beautiful embrace?
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
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Lucia closed her eyes, relaxing her grip on the hospital bed. *It isn't over yet. It can't be.*
"Why not?" Lucia's eyes opened to see an imaginary friend of hers from when she was little, one she hadn't seen for almost a century now. The cat hopped up onto the bed, licking its paws and pushing them across its navy wings. "Why are you so upset with this whole death thing? It's not like you have so much left to do."
Lucia held her hands back from petting it. Darn ol' Dennis, never worried about another's feelings. At least he was honest. *And what's so wrong with wanting to live? My family needs me*.
"Your family? They'll miss you, sure, but they've seen this coming a while now. You know they can manage on their own without an old lady like you holding 'em down."
*Hey!*
"What? I mean, they love you and all, but you are old. You're dying, Lucia. Why won't you just accept it?"
Lucia closed her eyes. She brought her hands to her lap, and Dennis was not there. Nobody was there. Flicking mandalas appeared behind her closed eyes, and she could hear talking in another room. Footsteps down the hallway--louder, louder, then soft. And finally all she could hear was the humming of machines. She rubbed her hands against each other. They felt cold. Knobby, old. The earth pulled her down, gentle but firm, until all of a sudden she felt all floaty.
Lucia's eyes flew open of their own accord, and her hands reached for the sides of the hospital bed. What a relief it was she could still feel them there. She sighed and turned to the hallway. Dennis's voice repeated itself to her quietly--"It's not like you have so much left to do." He never said there was nothing. What kept pulling at her? What one thing could be holding her down?
A woman passed by the room, wearing a long scarlet dress with childish golden polka dots. Lucia giggled and stood up to follow. Why not? It seemed now that the memory of a voice was just beyond reach, the feel of the voice so clear and familiar yet not quite there. Her lips traced words that weren't words. She giggled some more. She kept following. The woman in the red dress walked at a brisk pace, and Lucia skipped after her, bouncy and giddy like a little girl. She couldn't explain why, but everything seemed alright now. Her skips became longer and higher, and she felt she could touch the moon. Somehow they were no longer in a hospital, but a field of white similar to the florescent lights and softer. The woman twirled around and took Lucia in her arms, and they spun and spun. Who needs life? Who needs earth? What good is any of that in Death's beautiful embrace?
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
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I can feel myself slipping away.
My whole life, I watched for her, waiting, hoping. But after all these years, I had half-convinced myself it was a dream.
My eyelids flutter, and I feel the weariness deep in my bones.
Around me is activity, the beeping of machines, the murmur of doctors' and nurses' voices. But I'm ready.
Then.
Out of the corner of my eye, a flash of crimson. Gold accents sparkle in the fluorescent lights. My eyes fly open, I sit up straight. The activity I heard before is commotion now. Voices raised, arms trying to hold me down. I fight past them. "Wait!" I shout. But my voice is hollow and reedy to even my own ears.
I squirm and claw my way past the hospital staff trying to hold me back. "Wait!" I shriek. My voice, unused for so, so long, is gaining strength.
I shed the wires, needles, and tubes, and I sprint barefoot down the hall, my bare feet slapping on linoleum.
I see her, so distant. This must be the longest hallway in the world. She is so far away. "WAIT!"
When was the last time I could sprint? I can't even remember. But my whole life, so much waiting, so much wasted anticipation - it's all about to pay off. I know it.
She is still so distant. At the end of the hall is a picture window. She floats right through it.
I know my time is up anyway. I have nothing more to lose. I have to KNOW. Before I die, I have to *know*.
Glass shatters around me. I feel the air on my skin. Oh, so fresh, so cool, so clean! I feel empty space around me.
And then there she is.
She hovers before me, shining eyes, hair glowing like the sun, even though it's the middle of the night. All is blackness except for her.
Her voice is song as she laughs, "You came!"
She grasps my hands and pulls me to her. Tears sting my eyes, and my breath catches in my throat. My lips move, but no sound comes out. She is still talking, her song-like voice ringing in my ears and in my mind.
"So few come! I'm so glad you believed. I know you looked for me for so long, and I'm sorry that I took all these years, but it wasn't your time! And now it is, and I'm so happy, and so, so sorry, because it means this is the end."
My mind can't keep up with her onslaught of words, the rush of emotion. Through numb lips, I ask, "Who are you?"
"Oh you silly, don't you know?" she giggles, melodic and childlike. "I am the Light at the end of the Tunnel."
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
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Things are funny when you grow old. People always say you can see your entire life rewind the moment you die but I don't actually believe that. From my experience so far, dying is a very slow process and remembering is equally slow. Last week I suddenly remembered the taste of my mother's cherry pie. It was sweet and zesty and crumbled on my tongue. She would chase me and my brothers around the garden with a stick for stealing pieces before it was cooled down. Yesterday I remembered how happy I was the day my father brought home Spot, my puppy. He had discovered him in a box in the ditch while he was walking home from the factory and brought him to me to teach me how to care for something.
Today I remembered my imaginary friend Hector. When none of the kids from the village wanted to play with me because I had ragged clothes, worn by all my brothers before me, he was there telling me stories of faraway stars and mythical creatures. Talking to Hector certainly didn't help with the village kids liking me, thy didnt take kindly to a kid seemingly talking to themselves. Much less a poor, wimpy kid like me. But even with all the sneers and snide comments i was contempt. Hectors stories cheered me up, always. Of course, I know now that i really just imagined him, no one else could see him and there is no such thing as winged pigs living on diamond planets or lava-breathing fishes living inside a star lighting up a distant solar-system. But as a kid, it made me happy to belive there were better places out there somewhere.
Whenever I had an especially bad day, I would ask him: 'hector, will you take me away? I don't want to be here anymore. There's nothing for me here and so much to see out there' And always he would answer: 'Not yet'. This frustrated me a great deal, of course. I was just a child and i didnt understand that hector was just my own imagination helping me deal with the lonely life out in the country. As the years came and went and I grew more into the person i should one day become i needed Hector less and less. I went to school and then to college. I studied zoology and started going on my own expeditions. And while i never discovered lava breathing fish, I saw my fair share of marvelous things.
So one night, as I was dozing off next to a bonfire at the Beach of Galapagos, leading an expedition to study the finches, i saw him again. I hadnt seen him in years. He just popped up.
And with those words, he vanished. old friend' I said. 'I came to say goodbye' he replied. His expression was stoic but contempt. He seemed like a little enlightened Buddha. 'You were never going to take me away, were you?' I asked him.
And as he always did, without fail he replied: 'Not yet.' Before I could say anything, to my surprise, he continued: 'Look at all the things around you, look at what you have achieved. You are here on this wondrous island with creatures that nobody could ever have imagined existing, surrounded by loyal friends. There is so much to discover, so much to explore, so much adventure to be had and life to be lived. So much of it is still ahead of you. You dont need me. Not yet.'
'How will I find you, when there is finally nothing left for me?' I asked him.
'I will find you. When the time has come, follow the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots. She will take you where you need to go'
And with those words he vanished.
For many more years, I joined and led expeditions to the most remote places. I discovered an incredibly intelligent bird that won't fly in the glaciers of New Zealand. I Travelled around Africa and studied the hunting behavior of the lionesses of the steppe. In Siberia, I befriended a pack of tundra wolves and observed their social structures. As my old friend had predicted, I had an extraordinary life.
I have seen so much, I have done so much. This is a life well-lived. I have been dying for months, and at 98 years of life, no experience left out, no wonder undiscovered, and surrounded by my friends and family, my students and colleagues, I was finally ready to greet death like an old friend.
That's when I see her; she is breathtaking.
He kept his promise, even now when I have stopped believing he exists for decades. At long last, there is nothing left to discover, nothing left for me here and still so much to see out there. Leaving my life behind, I get up and follow her.
Death is just the way to another adventure.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
|
Things are funny when you grow old. People always say you can see your entire life rewind the moment you die but I don't actually believe that. From my experience so far, dying is a very slow process and remembering is equally slow. Last week I suddenly remembered the taste of my mother's cherry pie. It was sweet and zesty and crumbled on my tongue. She would chase me and my brothers around the garden with a stick for stealing pieces before it was cooled down. Yesterday I remembered how happy I was the day my father brought home Spot, my puppy. He had discovered him in a box in the ditch while he was walking home from the factory and brought him to me to teach me how to care for something.
Today I remembered my imaginary friend Hector. When none of the kids from the village wanted to play with me because I had ragged clothes, worn by all my brothers before me, he was there telling me stories of faraway stars and mythical creatures. Talking to Hector certainly didn't help with the village kids liking me, thy didnt take kindly to a kid seemingly talking to themselves. Much less a poor, wimpy kid like me. But even with all the sneers and snide comments i was contempt. Hectors stories cheered me up, always. Of course, I know now that i really just imagined him, no one else could see him and there is no such thing as winged pigs living on diamond planets or lava-breathing fishes living inside a star lighting up a distant solar-system. But as a kid, it made me happy to belive there were better places out there somewhere.
Whenever I had an especially bad day, I would ask him: 'hector, will you take me away? I don't want to be here anymore. There's nothing for me here and so much to see out there' And always he would answer: 'Not yet'. This frustrated me a great deal, of course. I was just a child and i didnt understand that hector was just my own imagination helping me deal with the lonely life out in the country. As the years came and went and I grew more into the person i should one day become i needed Hector less and less. I went to school and then to college. I studied zoology and started going on my own expeditions. And while i never discovered lava breathing fish, I saw my fair share of marvelous things.
So one night, as I was dozing off next to a bonfire at the Beach of Galapagos, leading an expedition to study the finches, i saw him again. I hadnt seen him in years. He just popped up.
And with those words, he vanished. old friend' I said. 'I came to say goodbye' he replied. His expression was stoic but contempt. He seemed like a little enlightened Buddha. 'You were never going to take me away, were you?' I asked him.
And as he always did, without fail he replied: 'Not yet.' Before I could say anything, to my surprise, he continued: 'Look at all the things around you, look at what you have achieved. You are here on this wondrous island with creatures that nobody could ever have imagined existing, surrounded by loyal friends. There is so much to discover, so much to explore, so much adventure to be had and life to be lived. So much of it is still ahead of you. You dont need me. Not yet.'
'How will I find you, when there is finally nothing left for me?' I asked him.
'I will find you. When the time has come, follow the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots. She will take you where you need to go'
And with those words he vanished.
For many more years, I joined and led expeditions to the most remote places. I discovered an incredibly intelligent bird that won't fly in the glaciers of New Zealand. I Travelled around Africa and studied the hunting behavior of the lionesses of the steppe. In Siberia, I befriended a pack of tundra wolves and observed their social structures. As my old friend had predicted, I had an extraordinary life.
I have seen so much, I have done so much. This is a life well-lived. I have been dying for months, and at 98 years of life, no experience left out, no wonder undiscovered, and surrounded by my friends and family, my students and colleagues, I was finally ready to greet death like an old friend.
That's when I see her; she is breathtaking.
He kept his promise, even now when I have stopped believing he exists for decades. At long last, there is nothing left to discover, nothing left for me here and still so much to see out there. Leaving my life behind, I get up and follow her.
Death is just the way to another adventure.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
– ...Hey! – you belatedly call out to her, dumbfounded. – Hey, stop, come back! – Your voice barely raises above a hoarse whisper, but she hears.
She hears and she retraces her steps, stiletto shoes clicking on smooth tiles, and peers into the room inquisitively. Her small, unnaturally symmetric face betrays mild irritation.
– Hello, what is it, I'm in a hurry... Oh. You're one of those boys! Oh, right, we were supposed to meet! I was a bit late, it... seems? You're not looking too good, I'm sorry you had to wait. Are you okay there?
– Don't let it bother you, sweetie, 'tis was but a moment. – You can't contain sarcasm. – We're both short on time, eh? But I can't very well follow you now. – You lift your withered arm, showing her an IV drip which tethers you to the damn place. – See?
– Riiiight. – She grimaced quickly, with pouty lips and furrowing of the brow, in the way you'd have found sexy some six decades earlier, frustrating half a century ago, and endearing by the time your grandchildren hit puberty. By now, you felt only tiredness. – We can work around this, actually. I'll make a call to the manager and have this little incident disappear. You up for it? – She appears to have no doubts about your answer.
You think for a while. Even simple considerations have become exhausting lately.
– Maybe if you explain what this is all about – you finally suggest. – What was that voice? Who are you? Why did you come here? Where are we going?
– Oh come on, it'll take forever. You'll figure everything by yourself once we're gone anyway. It's not like you're risking anything. Please!
– Lady, I didn't manage to live close to a hundred years by being reckless. And you know, lately my anxiety meds aren't...
– Okay, okay, I get it!
She rushed in and sat on your bed's edge.
– So, to keep it short, you're special. You can hear things which normal people can't, you can see things which are invisible to them, you can learn things they can't conceive of, and so you can go to places which to them are forbidden. We, the – ah, that's not important – need people like you in certain places, old vast places beyond this world, so we're using a test of sorts: an instruction to follow an... agent, let's say. That's me! We do it to find ones with aptitude to hear, with the will to abandon mundane life, with enough attention to notice me, and with enough luck not to screw this up by accident, because I come only once. In your case, I guess we tested endurance too. – She glanced at your decrepit body with amused approval. – Time isn't of great importance to us, so we made a teeny-tiny error in schedule for your batch, sorry about that again. As to what I'm doing here, it wasn't about you but about another one, so you have luck after all – you could've dozed off or something! Now, about your final question... First, we're going back.
– Back?
– Back to that day, yes. You can imagine it as a simple rewind, except I'll be there this time. So, – she fidgeted impatiently – you up for it or not?
You have no words.
This repulsive husk, crumbling down by the day, diminution of a once formidable mind, the impending horror of nothingness; now you are allowed to reject it and to reclaim what was once taken for granted, just like that? What's more, the loneliness, friends gone forever, petty shame and silent regret, mistakes which you couldn't unmake, all of the unfathomable crushing weight only humans who have lived their life to the fullest and remained lucid may comprehend. Did you just get a miraculous, exclusive cop out? You suppress the rush to agree instantly, if only to better appreciate the gift presented.
But.
– What do you mean by rewind? Explain it, please.
– Always more questions with you, huh? – She sighed. – What a nagging old man. Fine. See, you live in a *growing block universe*, relative to which we are timeless, and which relative to us is somewhat ephemeral and mutable. The points at which we interact with it are the only ones which are truly real, in a sense. We need your consent, now that you have lived to this point and succeeded in finding me, but your mind – body aside – is no longer fit for the tasks we have. The simplest technical solution is to roll the history back, erasing the blocks between this moment and the first interaction, and -
So, it's like that. You don't have to think for long, despite being so diminished. The case is pretty clear.
– No.
She jumps with a jerk.
– How can you say no?! Did you go senile? Think about it-
– I did. Go away, lady. I don't need your gift.
She argues. She pleads. She says you should feel grateful. She says this might as well be the Gods' grace you're rejecting, a blasphemy of unfathomable scale. She demands to know your reasoning. You don't feel like explaining. You're tired.
At the door, she stops and turns her head, uncertain, baffled. In this uncertainty, you see the vindication of the choice made. Gathering the last of your strength, you wave at her whimsically, and she storms out.
The next few weeks are uneventful. You eat, drink, relieve yourself, mostly lie in bed motionlessly. Few visitors come, and they don't have much to say. You, too, don't tell anyone about the woman. The metaphysical problems she left appear significant, but you have no energy to figure out their implications. Instead you reminisce about your long life, its accidents, loves and hardships. It feels very real, and not at all ephemeral. It feels worthy of having been.
In due time, you fade, blessed to not even see it come.
Your last memory, a static moment stretching into eternity, is of the sun's warmth, caressing your skin on the day ninety years ago, back when you had heard the voice. You heard it, remembered it, but swore no oaths, because you already promised to play soccer with your friends that evening.
Despite gentle warmth, the air feels fresh. You lift your face up, you smile at the sun and close your eyes.
You don't hear any voices.
|
Things are funny when you grow old. People always say you can see your entire life rewind the moment you die but I don't actually believe that. From my experience so far, dying is a very slow process and remembering is equally slow. Last week I suddenly remembered the taste of my mother's cherry pie. It was sweet and zesty and crumbled on my tongue. She would chase me and my brothers around the garden with a stick for stealing pieces before it was cooled down. Yesterday I remembered how happy I was the day my father brought home Spot, my puppy. He had discovered him in a box in the ditch while he was walking home from the factory and brought him to me to teach me how to care for something.
Today I remembered my imaginary friend Hector. When none of the kids from the village wanted to play with me because I had ragged clothes, worn by all my brothers before me, he was there telling me stories of faraway stars and mythical creatures. Talking to Hector certainly didn't help with the village kids liking me, thy didnt take kindly to a kid seemingly talking to themselves. Much less a poor, wimpy kid like me. But even with all the sneers and snide comments i was contempt. Hectors stories cheered me up, always. Of course, I know now that i really just imagined him, no one else could see him and there is no such thing as winged pigs living on diamond planets or lava-breathing fishes living inside a star lighting up a distant solar-system. But as a kid, it made me happy to belive there were better places out there somewhere.
Whenever I had an especially bad day, I would ask him: 'hector, will you take me away? I don't want to be here anymore. There's nothing for me here and so much to see out there' And always he would answer: 'Not yet'. This frustrated me a great deal, of course. I was just a child and i didnt understand that hector was just my own imagination helping me deal with the lonely life out in the country. As the years came and went and I grew more into the person i should one day become i needed Hector less and less. I went to school and then to college. I studied zoology and started going on my own expeditions. And while i never discovered lava breathing fish, I saw my fair share of marvelous things.
So one night, as I was dozing off next to a bonfire at the Beach of Galapagos, leading an expedition to study the finches, i saw him again. I hadnt seen him in years. He just popped up.
And with those words, he vanished. old friend' I said. 'I came to say goodbye' he replied. His expression was stoic but contempt. He seemed like a little enlightened Buddha. 'You were never going to take me away, were you?' I asked him.
And as he always did, without fail he replied: 'Not yet.' Before I could say anything, to my surprise, he continued: 'Look at all the things around you, look at what you have achieved. You are here on this wondrous island with creatures that nobody could ever have imagined existing, surrounded by loyal friends. There is so much to discover, so much to explore, so much adventure to be had and life to be lived. So much of it is still ahead of you. You dont need me. Not yet.'
'How will I find you, when there is finally nothing left for me?' I asked him.
'I will find you. When the time has come, follow the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots. She will take you where you need to go'
And with those words he vanished.
For many more years, I joined and led expeditions to the most remote places. I discovered an incredibly intelligent bird that won't fly in the glaciers of New Zealand. I Travelled around Africa and studied the hunting behavior of the lionesses of the steppe. In Siberia, I befriended a pack of tundra wolves and observed their social structures. As my old friend had predicted, I had an extraordinary life.
I have seen so much, I have done so much. This is a life well-lived. I have been dying for months, and at 98 years of life, no experience left out, no wonder undiscovered, and surrounded by my friends and family, my students and colleagues, I was finally ready to greet death like an old friend.
That's when I see her; she is breathtaking.
He kept his promise, even now when I have stopped believing he exists for decades. At long last, there is nothing left to discover, nothing left for me here and still so much to see out there. Leaving my life behind, I get up and follow her.
Death is just the way to another adventure.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
|
Sorry for the format. Typing on my phone.
She appeared to me in the night, beautiful blonde hair, milky white skin, and a stunning red dress, with golden polka dots.
She said nothing, but her eyes and smile said everything. Holding out her hand, I reached for it. She was soft, and warm, a sense of calm washed over my old, cancer stricken body.
For the first time in months, I stood up. I had been bed ridden since early spring. 98 years old, and dying of pancreatic cancer. I had spent days thinking of my life, and the people that I was going to leave behind.
As I stared at this beautiful woman holding my hand, an old memory surfaced...I was barely six, and I had a dream that told me to follow the woman that was now standing in my hospital room, 96 years later.
I briefly felt scared, but her eyes and smile told me not to be. I took a deep breath, as she gently squeezed my feeble hand, guiding me towards the door.
We slipped into the darkened hallway, the hospice wing was quiet, save for the sounds of the sleeping and sick. We moved along the hallways, never letting my hand go. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't figure out why.
As we continued walking in silence, I began to notice my surroundings change. We were no longer in the hospital, but now in a stunning field of grass, with the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. The woman turned to me and said, "David, you have come to the end of your journey, and I have watched you live a life of happiness and love. It is time to be with your own".
She smiled again, as she began to change shape.
In her place stood my best friend from my childhood.
It was Dot. My golden retriever.
She was as beautiful as I had remembered. I was 6 when she passed of old age. There she stood now in all her glory. Beautiful golden yellow fur, and the red handkerchief that I tied around her neck.
She sat beside me, my old body betraying me, shaking with the excitement of seeing my best friend again.
Then I heard the voice again, that I had heard all those years ago., " Follow me now David, you are home.
Dot nudged me and I smiled.
I was home now.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
|
Sorry for the format. Typing on my phone.
She appeared to me in the night, beautiful blonde hair, milky white skin, and a stunning red dress, with golden polka dots.
She said nothing, but her eyes and smile said everything. Holding out her hand, I reached for it. She was soft, and warm, a sense of calm washed over my old, cancer stricken body.
For the first time in months, I stood up. I had been bed ridden since early spring. 98 years old, and dying of pancreatic cancer. I had spent days thinking of my life, and the people that I was going to leave behind.
As I stared at this beautiful woman holding my hand, an old memory surfaced...I was barely six, and I had a dream that told me to follow the woman that was now standing in my hospital room, 96 years later.
I briefly felt scared, but her eyes and smile told me not to be. I took a deep breath, as she gently squeezed my feeble hand, guiding me towards the door.
We slipped into the darkened hallway, the hospice wing was quiet, save for the sounds of the sleeping and sick. We moved along the hallways, never letting my hand go. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn't figure out why.
As we continued walking in silence, I began to notice my surroundings change. We were no longer in the hospital, but now in a stunning field of grass, with the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. The woman turned to me and said, "David, you have come to the end of your journey, and I have watched you live a life of happiness and love. It is time to be with your own".
She smiled again, as she began to change shape.
In her place stood my best friend from my childhood.
It was Dot. My golden retriever.
She was as beautiful as I had remembered. I was 6 when she passed of old age. There she stood now in all her glory. Beautiful golden yellow fur, and the red handkerchief that I tied around her neck.
She sat beside me, my old body betraying me, shaking with the excitement of seeing my best friend again.
Then I heard the voice again, that I had heard all those years ago., " Follow me now David, you are home.
Dot nudged me and I smiled.
I was home now.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
|
I almost missed her. Now that I’ve absorbed ‘the miracle’ I feel a sharp shame and anger. How could I have let it go that far. Stuck in a hospital bed, weak and slow. Only the hem of her dress, that flash of gold, between me and... I can’t even.
Embarrassed, I look down at my plump fingers. Then I pull out my phone and snap a selfie for reassurance.
June turns the corner and locks eyes menacingly. She has changed out of her party dress but her makeup is still overdone. I want to touch her, but I won’t.
She breaks eye contact over my right shoulder. Her face flashes fear. Oh, shit, they’re coming.
June turns to run and I follow in her wake. I can feel her power drawing me in. The hairs of my arms, followed my my clothes, my mouth. Before I’m swept into her commotion, I glance back at the children. Dave, Penny, Shell are leading the pack.
This time I land in my third grade classroom. June’s voice in my head says “follow the woman in the Adidas tracksuit”.
I’ll get it right this time.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
|
I almost missed her. Now that I’ve absorbed ‘the miracle’ I feel a sharp shame and anger. How could I have let it go that far. Stuck in a hospital bed, weak and slow. Only the hem of her dress, that flash of gold, between me and... I can’t even.
Embarrassed, I look down at my plump fingers. Then I pull out my phone and snap a selfie for reassurance.
June turns the corner and locks eyes menacingly. She has changed out of her party dress but her makeup is still overdone. I want to touch her, but I won’t.
She breaks eye contact over my right shoulder. Her face flashes fear. Oh, shit, they’re coming.
June turns to run and I follow in her wake. I can feel her power drawing me in. The hairs of my arms, followed my my clothes, my mouth. Before I’m swept into her commotion, I glance back at the children. Dave, Penny, Shell are leading the pack.
This time I land in my third grade classroom. June’s voice in my head says “follow the woman in the Adidas tracksuit”.
I’ll get it right this time.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
|
I'll never forget that day. My eighth birthday.
I was always a hopeful lad. Never looked down, never looked back. That's just the way I've always been.
But... Even looking forward, chin up like my pappy always taught me, I still to this day can't shake my impulsive slips into reverie whenever I think about then. Think about her.
She showed up out of the blue to our family celebration in the old glade. Ancient plank flooring and simple wooden walls built up in a gazebo like structure my family had frequented and celebrated in for as long as anyone could remember, in the middle of a swamp of all places. She was quiet, standing at the edge of the crowd of relatives and friends that were invited to celebrate my birth. Noone knew who she was, but everyone recognized her somehow. Everyone knew she belonged, despite not knowing why...
After the ceremonies and crowds departed, she approached me. Smiling, serene and contemplative somehow, not unlike Divinci's most famous work. Her mouth didn't seem to move, but she spoke to me all the same. Spoke through me, really. Those few moments lasted an eternity for me, staring into her deep green eyes. Her message imprinted on my mind...
"I've been waiting, child"
She seemed choked up, sobbing almost despite her face not changing a bit. The pause was concerningly long.
"You're his spitting image, you know"
"No. I suppose you don't. The years must have dulled my reasoning"
Her sentences were foreign, yet familiar. Clipped and short, yet maddeningly drawn out. A contradiction in a contradiction in a contradiction, and I understood all the same. And I stood, standing silently frozen in her gentle warmth, waiting for her to finish speaking.
"You're not like the others. Your soul is unique. Your will is like a physical force, unlike him. It pushes you forward."
"You are the one. My selection"
Her words, yet again, translated to me coherently. This time, though, her words washed upon my mind like a tide on a rocky shore, leaving the landscape unchanged as they retreated. I felt like I was missing something fundamental.
"One day, when you come of age, you will understand"
She seemed to respond to my thoughts, I noted idly
"But you aren't ready"
"listen, Child of the Earth. Listen well. A guide will be sent when you mature. Remember well. Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots"
And then it was over, as quickly as it began. I was left staring out into the swampland, my hands gripping the creaking, mossy railing and my heart thundering in my chest. Mother called for me to follow on the journey home, and like always I moved on, however shaken I was.
It was bizarre, and since then I always believed that swamp gas must have distorted my perception. No one else remembered the woman. None but me...
And now, ninety years to the day since then, I lay waiting in a doctors office. A check up, as I had always possessed good health. I was somewhere else, though; wondering, like every year on the anniversary of my hallucination that felt more real than life.
That's when I saw her, right outside the door. Walking past. It was her! We made eye contact briefly, and she strolled on past the door with a beckoning wave.
I did not think. I simply moved with all the ability I had, but even with the agility of a man 30 years younger than me, I couldn't quite catch up. I ran after her, down the hallways and paths, out the door heedless of the staff's words. Down the road, to a farm field.
There was a patch of woods at the edge. She finally stilled, and my burning lungs gave me pause, but I did not heed it. I soldiered on to her, beyond reason. My body simply moved.
"Hello again. It has certainly been longer than I expected"
She once again spoke through me, just as I remembered. I was giddy with excitement and amazement.
"Well, come now. I apologize for the delays, you've been ready for ages... "
She trailed off and beckoned me closer, I obeyed without hesitation as she laid her right palm upon my forehead.
"Just breathe. This will be disorienting, but you will be fine"
Then the world blurred to shades of green.
"Welcome" Many voices spoke in unison.
Like always, I looked forward.
|
|
[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
|
"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
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I'll never forget that day. My eighth birthday.
I was always a hopeful lad. Never looked down, never looked back. That's just the way I've always been.
But... Even looking forward, chin up like my pappy always taught me, I still to this day can't shake my impulsive slips into reverie whenever I think about then. Think about her.
She showed up out of the blue to our family celebration in the old glade. Ancient plank flooring and simple wooden walls built up in a gazebo like structure my family had frequented and celebrated in for as long as anyone could remember, in the middle of a swamp of all places. She was quiet, standing at the edge of the crowd of relatives and friends that were invited to celebrate my birth. Noone knew who she was, but everyone recognized her somehow. Everyone knew she belonged, despite not knowing why...
After the ceremonies and crowds departed, she approached me. Smiling, serene and contemplative somehow, not unlike Divinci's most famous work. Her mouth didn't seem to move, but she spoke to me all the same. Spoke through me, really. Those few moments lasted an eternity for me, staring into her deep green eyes. Her message imprinted on my mind...
"I've been waiting, child"
She seemed choked up, sobbing almost despite her face not changing a bit. The pause was concerningly long.
"You're his spitting image, you know"
"No. I suppose you don't. The years must have dulled my reasoning"
Her sentences were foreign, yet familiar. Clipped and short, yet maddeningly drawn out. A contradiction in a contradiction in a contradiction, and I understood all the same. And I stood, standing silently frozen in her gentle warmth, waiting for her to finish speaking.
"You're not like the others. Your soul is unique. Your will is like a physical force, unlike him. It pushes you forward."
"You are the one. My selection"
Her words, yet again, translated to me coherently. This time, though, her words washed upon my mind like a tide on a rocky shore, leaving the landscape unchanged as they retreated. I felt like I was missing something fundamental.
"One day, when you come of age, you will understand"
She seemed to respond to my thoughts, I noted idly
"But you aren't ready"
"listen, Child of the Earth. Listen well. A guide will be sent when you mature. Remember well. Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots"
And then it was over, as quickly as it began. I was left staring out into the swampland, my hands gripping the creaking, mossy railing and my heart thundering in my chest. Mother called for me to follow on the journey home, and like always I moved on, however shaken I was.
It was bizarre, and since then I always believed that swamp gas must have distorted my perception. No one else remembered the woman. None but me...
And now, ninety years to the day since then, I lay waiting in a doctors office. A check up, as I had always possessed good health. I was somewhere else, though; wondering, like every year on the anniversary of my hallucination that felt more real than life.
That's when I saw her, right outside the door. Walking past. It was her! We made eye contact briefly, and she strolled on past the door with a beckoning wave.
I did not think. I simply moved with all the ability I had, but even with the agility of a man 30 years younger than me, I couldn't quite catch up. I ran after her, down the hallways and paths, out the door heedless of the staff's words. Down the road, to a farm field.
There was a patch of woods at the edge. She finally stilled, and my burning lungs gave me pause, but I did not heed it. I soldiered on to her, beyond reason. My body simply moved.
"Hello again. It has certainly been longer than I expected"
She once again spoke through me, just as I remembered. I was giddy with excitement and amazement.
"Well, come now. I apologize for the delays, you've been ready for ages... "
She trailed off and beckoned me closer, I obeyed without hesitation as she laid her right palm upon my forehead.
"Just breathe. This will be disorienting, but you will be fine"
Then the world blurred to shades of green.
"Welcome" Many voices spoke in unison.
Like always, I looked forward.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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[Poem]
As a child I looked for red with gold dots,
But alas t'was worn by not even the thots.
Not the girls when I was a young fool,
Nor the any ladies in throughout school.
It wasn't worn by my wife,
Nor any though my life.
But there it was, when I was old,
Lying in bed I saw the red dress with gold.
I stood up to follow, and was filled with dread,
For now I stood in the realm of the dead.
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"Madam please", I said, "The medicine is for my great grandfather, he is in constant pain and needs them to relieve it."
The Nurse responded "Sir, you came in here with a fake white beard saying you were 98 years old, while clearly at most 60 years younger, and asking for CBD, and if it were for your great grandfather then head to your pharmacist and pick it up, now leave before I call security."
"Madam I can't go to the pharmacy they won't let me in because some fickle thing I did a couple weeks back, and this is where he was diagnosed with his arthritis, so I thoug-".
"I'm calling now Sir."
"Wait wait wait, I'll go, I'm leaving, I'm sorry."
The nurse shoed me out into the hall where I just stood in silence, dawning on what I had just done for my great grandfather. I had just lied in hospital pretending to be 98 so I could help Paps' pain to stop.
After my father had died, all other family wouldn't take me in. Even at the funeral family members had called me "half blood", "freak", and "crybaby". Even a little one came over and kicked me, and that's where Paps lost it. He was screaming and hollering at how closed minded they were, and how I "didn't deserve this". He quickly took me out of there before I could even thank him.
If he had never had took me in the rest of my family would have left me there to just rot. I was only 10 at the time, but I knew I would follow everything Paps would tell me to do to the letter.
The same night as the funeral I heard a voice say "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots. I asked Paps in the morning if it was him and he just sat there silent. In those silent seconds I knew I had touched a nerve that I should never even breath upon again.
And now here I am in a hospital hall crying thinking of all Paps has done for me. Had done for me. Will have done for me. I had hoped for more time with him, at least to hear one more story of his times at war, at least to tell him how my day was after a hard day at work, at least to just thank him once more.
I sat there silent feeling that same fear I had all those years ago in those silent seconds.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice say.
I looked up to see something I never thought would see since I heard those mysterious words 18 years ago. It was a woman in a red dress in gold polka dots.
"Yeah", I said, "Never better".
-I might write a continuance, but I think I did terrible at this so I might not, I just hope one person likes this.-
-Have a nice night.-
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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"No, Bryant. What are you doing?"
I strained against the bed, trying desperately to follow the woman in the polka dots. "It's her. I see her. After all this time." I heard my own voice in brief rasps and wondered how it had gotten this way. I remembered that day like it was yesterday - I was seven, playing in my sandbox, and suddenly the world seemed to pause and center, growing silent. I don't know how to explain it. Then there was this voice, then, floating like a breeze. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." And then it was gone. I never saw any woman in gold polka dots - until now. Decades later.
The fleeting ripples of the dress were disappearing, folding behind the curtain, absorbed by the sunlight. "Please," I whispered.
"Dad!" a voice suddenly rang out. A woman in a parka and jeans ran up to me, but my memory was hazy. Dad, did she say? "I'm your daughter Emily," she repeated. She looked at the nurse. "He's... doing it again, isn't he?"
The nurse nodded, sadly even, while I was preoccupied by the piece of sun streaming through the window. What had caught my attention before? The woman - the polka dots. Who was it, and why now?
"Dad, please stay calm. I know this is a hard situation for you..."
I gave out a throaty laugh, almost by instinct. "Who, me? Don't worry about me, your dad's still got a lot of fight left in him."
Emily seemed to smile wanly. But it was harder for me to place things. And her face, everything - it was almost like it was warping. The woman in the red dress and gold spots, the room itself... I didn't know what it meant. In fact, I didn't know what a lot of things meant these days, and getting older just meant getting more used to that.
"Emily," I croaked out. "You ever know... about a woman. In a red dress and golden polka dots? Who is she? Why was she just here?"
"Dad... not again." At this I could have sworn her face fell. Her eyes grew downcast, and before I could correct another blunder that I had somehow managed to make, she continued. "It's mom. Mom... passed away years ago. You were always talking about the first time you met her, the woman in the red dress with gold polka dots. You could have sworn it was fate, that you were predestined to be together."
"I - " The memories came back. A smiling face that was blurred in my memory - no, she was at the window now. I saw her face, clearly. Where was she again? In my mind? In my memory? "Your mom," I managed. "She's the one at the window."
Emily seemed almost to get tears in her eyes. "I know, dad. She must be waiting for you."
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"Madam please", I said, "The medicine is for my great grandfather, he is in constant pain and needs them to relieve it."
The Nurse responded "Sir, you came in here with a fake white beard saying you were 98 years old, while clearly at most 60 years younger, and asking for CBD, and if it were for your great grandfather then head to your pharmacist and pick it up, now leave before I call security."
"Madam I can't go to the pharmacy they won't let me in because some fickle thing I did a couple weeks back, and this is where he was diagnosed with his arthritis, so I thoug-".
"I'm calling now Sir."
"Wait wait wait, I'll go, I'm leaving, I'm sorry."
The nurse shoed me out into the hall where I just stood in silence, dawning on what I had just done for my great grandfather. I had just lied in hospital pretending to be 98 so I could help Paps' pain to stop.
After my father had died, all other family wouldn't take me in. Even at the funeral family members had called me "half blood", "freak", and "crybaby". Even a little one came over and kicked me, and that's where Paps lost it. He was screaming and hollering at how closed minded they were, and how I "didn't deserve this". He quickly took me out of there before I could even thank him.
If he had never had took me in the rest of my family would have left me there to just rot. I was only 10 at the time, but I knew I would follow everything Paps would tell me to do to the letter.
The same night as the funeral I heard a voice say "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots. I asked Paps in the morning if it was him and he just sat there silent. In those silent seconds I knew I had touched a nerve that I should never even breath upon again.
And now here I am in a hospital hall crying thinking of all Paps has done for me. Had done for me. Will have done for me. I had hoped for more time with him, at least to hear one more story of his times at war, at least to tell him how my day was after a hard day at work, at least to just thank him once more.
I sat there silent feeling that same fear I had all those years ago in those silent seconds.
"Are you okay?" I heard a voice say.
I looked up to see something I never thought would see since I heard those mysterious words 18 years ago. It was a woman in a red dress in gold polka dots.
"Yeah", I said, "Never better".
-I might write a continuance, but I think I did terrible at this so I might not, I just hope one person likes this.-
-Have a nice night.-
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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– ...Hey! – you belatedly call out to her, dumbfounded. – Hey, stop, come back! – Your voice barely raises above a hoarse whisper, but she hears.
She hears and she retraces her steps, stiletto shoes clicking on smooth tiles, and peers into the room inquisitively. Her small, unnaturally symmetric face betrays mild irritation.
– Hello, what is it, I'm in a hurry... Oh. You're one of those boys! Oh, right, we were supposed to meet! I was a bit late, it... seems? You're not looking too good, I'm sorry you had to wait. Are you okay there?
– Don't let it bother you, sweetie, 'tis was but a moment. – You can't contain sarcasm. – We're both short on time, eh? But I can't very well follow you now. – You lift your withered arm, showing her an IV drip which tethers you to the damn place. – See?
– Riiiight. – She grimaced quickly, with pouty lips and furrowing of the brow, in the way you'd have found sexy some six decades earlier, frustrating half a century ago, and endearing by the time your grandchildren hit puberty. By now, you felt only tiredness. – We can work around this, actually. I'll make a call to the manager and have this little incident disappear. You up for it? – She appears to have no doubts about your answer.
You think for a while. Even simple considerations have become exhausting lately.
– Maybe if you explain what this is all about – you finally suggest. – What was that voice? Who are you? Why did you come here? Where are we going?
– Oh come on, it'll take forever. You'll figure everything by yourself once we're gone anyway. It's not like you're risking anything. Please!
– Lady, I didn't manage to live close to a hundred years by being reckless. And you know, lately my anxiety meds aren't...
– Okay, okay, I get it!
She rushed in and sat on your bed's edge.
– So, to keep it short, you're special. You can hear things which normal people can't, you can see things which are invisible to them, you can learn things they can't conceive of, and so you can go to places which to them are forbidden. We, the – ah, that's not important – need people like you in certain places, old vast places beyond this world, so we're using a test of sorts: an instruction to follow an... agent, let's say. That's me! We do it to find ones with aptitude to hear, with the will to abandon mundane life, with enough attention to notice me, and with enough luck not to screw this up by accident, because I come only once. In your case, I guess we tested endurance too. – She glanced at your decrepit body with amused approval. – Time isn't of great importance to us, so we made a teeny-tiny error in schedule for your batch, sorry about that again. As to what I'm doing here, it wasn't about you but about another one, so you have luck after all – you could've dozed off or something! Now, about your final question... First, we're going back.
– Back?
– Back to that day, yes. You can imagine it as a simple rewind, except I'll be there this time. So, – she fidgeted impatiently – you up for it or not?
You have no words.
This repulsive husk, crumbling down by the day, diminution of a once formidable mind, the impending horror of nothingness; now you are allowed to reject it and to reclaim what was once taken for granted, just like that? What's more, the loneliness, friends gone forever, petty shame and silent regret, mistakes which you couldn't unmake, all of the unfathomable crushing weight only humans who have lived their life to the fullest and remained lucid may comprehend. Did you just get a miraculous, exclusive cop out? You suppress the rush to agree instantly, if only to better appreciate the gift presented.
But.
– What do you mean by rewind? Explain it, please.
– Always more questions with you, huh? – She sighed. – What a nagging old man. Fine. See, you live in a *growing block universe*, relative to which we are timeless, and which relative to us is somewhat ephemeral and mutable. The points at which we interact with it are the only ones which are truly real, in a sense. We need your consent, now that you have lived to this point and succeeded in finding me, but your mind – body aside – is no longer fit for the tasks we have. The simplest technical solution is to roll the history back, erasing the blocks between this moment and the first interaction, and -
So, it's like that. You don't have to think for long, despite being so diminished. The case is pretty clear.
– No.
She jumps with a jerk.
– How can you say no?! Did you go senile? Think about it-
– I did. Go away, lady. I don't need your gift.
She argues. She pleads. She says you should feel grateful. She says this might as well be the Gods' grace you're rejecting, a blasphemy of unfathomable scale. She demands to know your reasoning. You don't feel like explaining. You're tired.
At the door, she stops and turns her head, uncertain, baffled. In this uncertainty, you see the vindication of the choice made. Gathering the last of your strength, you wave at her whimsically, and she storms out.
The next few weeks are uneventful. You eat, drink, relieve yourself, mostly lie in bed motionlessly. Few visitors come, and they don't have much to say. You, too, don't tell anyone about the woman. The metaphysical problems she left appear significant, but you have no energy to figure out their implications. Instead you reminisce about your long life, its accidents, loves and hardships. It feels very real, and not at all ephemeral. It feels worthy of having been.
In due time, you fade, blessed to not even see it come.
Your last memory, a static moment stretching into eternity, is of the sun's warmth, caressing your skin on the day ninety years ago, back when you had heard the voice. You heard it, remembered it, but swore no oaths, because you already promised to play soccer with your friends that evening.
Despite gentle warmth, the air feels fresh. You lift your face up, you smile at the sun and close your eyes.
You don't hear any voices.
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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The fluorescent light had been making a whirring noise for at least an hour. That's how long Maggie had been awake. She'd been irritated by it for about fifty minutes. She once again glanced at the clock facing her bed and sighed. Aging bones creaked in protest as she sat up and tried to find the nurse call bell. The stupid thing kept falling down the side of the bed and getting tangled up.
"Excuse me!"
Her voice was hoarse from dehydration. How long had she been in hospital for this time? At ninety-eight years old it felt like she never left the damn place. The nurses were busy and Maggie knew they couldn't always get to her straight away but there was no need to obviously avoid eye contact on the way past. She was already sat on the edge of the bed looking for her walking stick when she saw a flash of red fabric with gold spots hurry past the doorway.
A memory came rushing back of a strange man at a fairground telling her to follow the red dress with the gold polka dots. She'd laughed but he'd been very serious and as she'd walked away he'd shouted the same instruction after her. She'd spent the whole day looking out for it and then the coming years wondering what he had meant. The obvious conclusion, she'd decided, is that he was mad.
"Well if it's nothing I'll tell them I got lost looking for the bathroom" she thought to herself, and with that, stick in hand, Maggie shuffled out of her room, down the corridor, and after the red dress with the gold polka dots.
A few minutes of walking later Maggie was tiring. Her arthritis was playing up and she'd left her hearing aid on the bedside table. The red dress seemed to stay round the next corner the entire time which was not helping her fraying temper. It almost felt rude that this red-dressed stranger didn't have the common decency to walk a bit more slowly when they were unknowingly being followed around a hospital by a nonogenarian with a bad hip, bad hearing, a leaky heart valve and no cardigan.
Maggie suddenly stopped. She'd turned into a dead end and the red dress had gone. In fact, everybody had gone... "It definitely went this way". Maybe she was mad now too. They say that can happen to old people in hospitals; you get an infection then just like that you're halllucinating frogs and beetles and red dresses... But what if she wasn't mad.
This corridor was different somehow and it took her a second to put her finger on why. It was the pictures. These were different than the other pictures she'd see in the hospital; the others were all bowls of fruit and smiling kids and landscapes behind cheap perspex frames. These were older and looked like they belonged in a gallery; scenes of important looking men and women having important type discussions in grand rooms. She tried to straighten her stooped back as she looked around and slowly made her way to the end of the corridor.
Another memory came to mind. The children mustn't have been more than ten or twelve years old when they went to the V&A in London. They'd been on a family day out and then the rain had started so they'd opted for some culture and then John ended up being told off by a security guard for pointing and laughing at the paintings of naked people. She smiled to herself. Those really had been some amazing days.
The final picture was the biggest and filled the end wall of the corridor. Maggie took a moment to admire the fine detail of the painting, each brush stroke precise, the individual faces all unique. You could almost feel the atmosphere in that room as they discussed 'The Guardianship of The Souls of St Thomas' Hospital' as the painting was called. And then she saw it. A lady wearing a red dress with gold polka dots was peering out from behind a pillar watching the discussion in the painting, from within the painting. Maggie startled in disbelief, then slowly raised a hand, as if to touch the painting, as if to see if it really was just oil and canvas, without ever taking her eyes off the lady's face.
At the exact moment her fingertip brushed the painting there was a loud clattering noise as an ownerless walking stick fell to the floor in a now empty disused corridor of St Thomas' Hospital.
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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“Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots,” a voice whispered in the dark. I was in my bed, swaddles in the blankets and trying my best to go to sleep. At that moment, I was frozen, the voice frightening, yet as soothing as my own mother’s. When I sat bolt upright and pulled the chain on the little pink lamb lamp that sat on my nightstand, the darkness fled and I was alone in the room. I screamed for my mother, but I couldn’t tell her what happened, or that I felt the warmth of the breath as the voice spoke.
That was the exact memory that sprang to mind as I saw the flash of red from the corner of my eye. I was in respite in the hospital, my 98-year-old form finally giving its last hurrah after a fall in which my brittle bones and paper skin gave me little hope of making it to 99. Weakly, I pinched the loose skin on my side to make sure I was awake. I felt it, just as sure as I could hear the beeping of all the monitors they had attached to me and could smell the antiseptic crispness of the cotton pillow that cradled my head. Hopeful, I kept my gaze steady on the doorway and hoped for another glimpse. It was a habit I’d formed since that fateful night – any vision of red drew my immediate and unbroken attention.
The lights in the hallway went dim and I faded, the excitement of the red sighting took too much of my limited energy. As my eyes began to close, I saw it again, but this time I saw the form of a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a long, flowing gown of red with gold polka dots. She stopped in my doorway and smiled at me. “I’ve been waiting,” she whispered, though I didn’t see her lips move.
I froze. That voice, her voice, were as familiar to me in my memory. “It’s you,” I gasped.
She beckoned to me, her lithe index finger crooked towards me. “It’s time,” she said.
The pain from my fracture dissipated and I began to feel like I was floating above myself, though I refused to look back, afraid that I would see something I was not ready to see. I uprighted myself and stood up, but didn’t notice the chill from the cold linoleum floor seeping through my socks as I usually did. There was no feeling, only an envelope of warmth and love as I tentatively stepped toward her. She reached for me and I grasped her hand as I approached. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m your grandmother, Grace,” she smiled as she led me towards a bright light at the end of the hospital corridor.
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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The bed is is stiff and uncomfortable, the room is cold, and sterile. My family is lovely, but as the weeks have worn on they went from being with me all the visiting hours to coming by for a meal every other day. Today I just got a phone call. One of the nurses, James, a nice but awkward young 40-something year old man spends a lot of time with me when he's working. We talk about life, his life, he served in the military, never had a family, but had plenty of adventurers. I tell him mine, meeting my wife, my kids, my grandkids. I have even seen a great grand kid. He's four now.
Telling James about my great grandson reminds me of when I was four. I got very sick, flu, I think it was, almost died. It's much different, now but I was in this very hospital. I'm sharing this forgotten memory when it comes back to me. I trail off in my conversation with James and remember the voice "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." Even now it seemed so real. I had forgot, I always thought that woman would be my wife, my friend, my something. Then I found all those things in other people and stopped looking. Childhood imagination can be strange. Even now the voice seems real.
The room feels warmer brighter. The memories of childhood must be bringing some vigor into these old bones. But then she walks past my room. A woman, in a flowing crimson red dress, shimmering with golden polka dots. I excuse myself with James, I really need to take a walk. His head turns sideways like a confused puppy. James relents and I follow her. Other than the bathroom it's been a week since I went for a real walk Did I lose her already? No, the shine from her dress went down a right hallway. I turn and she's gone. No. I keep walking get to the end, looking unto each room, nothing. I get to the end of the hallway, left, closed double doors, right, there she is at the elevator. What do I say? The doors open and I follow her inside.
The elevator seems old for how new everything else inside the hospital is. Old style buttons. The doors ooen, and everything seems familiar, but older. She starts walking right away, I follow. Then she stops at a room. I look inside and there is a child. Coughing, sick, looks familiar. Two people push past us, they look familiar too. They look familiar because they are, it's mom and dad. Wow, they look so much younger than I remember them. Wait, the sick kid, that's me. The woman in the red dress smiles at me. Her hand flows and points to the room, then her other arm points across the hallway, and I see my room again, James is tidying up. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots." The words leave my mouth, and the sick child perks up, the memory seems more alive than ever, it was my voice, I heard myself all these years ago.
I awake, hot and dripping in sweat, a fever dream. My mom and dad, walk into the room. And I hear a voice. "Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots."
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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Everything fell out of focus. The beeping on the monitor sounded very far away. I got up out of bed slowly, feeling much lighter than before. The floor was cold beneath my feet. I pulled the tape off my arm and removed the IV. It didn't matter anyway. I knew I was on borrowed time. I had lived a good life. It just couldn't end without knowing.
I followed her down the hallway. She was very graceful. I felt a strong yearning to see her face, but she didn't turn around. I followed her through several corridors to a wide-open lobby. I was distracted by a room in the far corner. It seemed to glow with a strange light. It looked warm and welcoming.
The hall the woman turned down was dingier, ordinary with fluorescent hospital lighting.
I didn't want to turn away from the room but the need to follow her was so strong.
At the end of the hall she turned into another room. An old woman was laying in the bed there. She felt familiar to me. She wore a gold locket. It looked odd and ornate against her hospital gown. The woman in the red dress whispered something to her and took her hand. She pulled up a chair and sat down. She wiped her eyes and cleared her throat. "Mom," she said. "I'm here." The old woman didn't open her eyes.
I backed out of the room quietly, hoping she wouldn't see me. I was dizzy and so tired. I felt like a fool. All of these years wondering, and it was just a coincidence. Just a woman trying to spend a few last moments with her dying mother. Who was I? What would I accomplish by denying my family the same goodbye, here wandering the halls without any thought to whether I had the strength to make it back?
I didn't.
I went into the nearest room to rest. It looked like a delivery ward, but it was empty. Surely the doctors and nurses wouldn't mind if I were to just lie down for a bit here.
I drifted off to sleep.
I awoke to sounds of shouting as they wheeled in a woman in labor. I closed the curtain so I wouldn't be in the way. I was still so very tired. Their voices faded and I closed my eyes.
The birth was a success. The nurse cleaned up the baby and handed her to her mother. "Congratulations!" she said. "It's a girl!"
The baby looked up with wide eyes, following the patterns of light that glinted off of her mother's locket. The sunlight reflected off of the bright red curtains in spots of gold.
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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This was it, the final chapter. I couldn’t hold the pen anymore, for no longer was it my turn to. I’d lived a life I’d wanted, and my wife had too bless her soul, she left first with our hands holding on for her dear life. She wasn’t ever ready to go, she didn’t comprehend what the repercussions might be. It took her a while to come to the comfort of letting go, but from the smile on her face I knew she was going to do just fine. And much like her then, I knew I now, with my family around me ready to say goodbye, one more time, to dad, grandpa, and even great grandpa bless me.
I smiled, no control over that. I knew it had been fulfilling what I’d done here. And just as my line began to fade..... I knew it couldn’t be over yet. Something pulled me to sit up again. Someone passed by, a dress I remember only stories about... in childhood, while in the woods, a delightfully giddy voice.... it led me then like it would lead me now, to a woman in a polka dotted dress, holding a vase, tears down her eyes. I reached out my hand... I called to her, but I couldn’t move. Nothing would’ve compelled me to stand, not in my state. One month bound to a bed at my age doesn’t make for a strong foundation. So instead, my soul stood. Led by a force I couldn’t control, it followed down the hall. My physicality falling comfortably back on the bed, and my ethereal form going down the hall. For I couldn’t see where she had gone, my spirit went where it felt most compelled, I was simply on the ride.
Tracing every hall, peering in every room, my soul searched for the woman. And suddenly, one more corner through into the icu, there she stood. Her two children in the incubators struggling like my physical form now. In my soul I could sense that one would not make it, for I could feel it join in my flight. But the other, the other I would whisper to the same message I’d heard before. I could not stop myself from attaching to it’s spirit, to give it a message it would not soon forget. One it would hear I would imagine more than once, “You do not know him yet, but one day, you will find the man in the Orange and Green Striped Polo Tee. Follow him when you can, he will show you positivity.” And then my ethereal form faded one more time, and somewhere, down the hall, I could hear sobs of my leaving. But I knew it was alright, the woman showed me so.
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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There she was. I'd given up hope. Now, with scarcely enough energy to breathe, I saw her. With most of my remaining strength, I got out of bed and leaned on my walker. With IV in tow, I followed her, and she went straight to the elevator bank.
I made it into the same car as her as the door closed and let her choose the floor. She pressed 4, and I nodded. *Heading the same way," I said.
"I thought so," she replied.
The door opened to the maternity ward. Nurses and doctors hustled about. The faint cries of newborns were coming out of some of the rooms.
I followed her as best I could to a heavy door marked "Authorized Personnel Only." She used a fingerprint scanner to open the door, then held it for me.
Two doctors waited for me on the other side, smiling pleasantly.
"We've been expecting you Mr. Stoneman," one said.
"We haven't seen you in some time."
"It's been , what, ninety-eight years?" the other added.
They brought me to a bed, and I collapsed on it. The exertion of the past 10 minutes had used what little energy I had left. Slowly, I began to doze into the most peaceful slumber of my life. A light appeared, warm and inviting. I knew what it was for, and I went to it.
It was deliciously relaxing; I felt warm, safe and loved. The light got brighter and brighter, and I felt like I was being squeezed. I heard shrieks of pain and shouts of encouragement. Then I felt like I had been expelled from something, and I was cold, even though the light was brighter. Someone smacked my bottom and I cried harder than I did when my Dorothy passed 10 years ago.
I heard voices, everyone seemed happy. I was horribly confused and a little frightened.
Then the person who slapped me held me up and said, "Congratulations, Mrs. Stoneman, here is your healthy baby boy."
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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If you ever find yourself with the greivous privilege of being in touching distance of a century, every day will begin to feel like a lifetime. Being here, away from the world, slowly losing grasp on all of my precious memories... It isn't how I imagined the end of my life would be, to be honest.
But in the deepest confines of this aged mind of mine, is a reverie. A shroud of fiery red, like a kiss from the setting sun, flecked with spots of gold. I do not know if I had this dream when I was 7, or 30, or even if it were yesterday. But I hold on to it for dear life. As if this is some unfulfilled prophecy I must lie awake, stay alive for. After 98 long years, today, I can swear on the remaining fragments of my dwindling sanity that I saw my dream flash before my eyes.
I try to haul my failing body off the bed. My bones creak under the weight and a groan escapes me. I close my eyes and try to summon the last reserve of strength I can muster.
"Please don't do that."
Her smile warms me like a hearth on a winter night. She has emerald green eyes that I recognize from what seems like a different life.
"Zara?" I mumble, hardly believing my own voice. I do not even realize when the tears fill my eyes. The world is a blur, her features are a haze. But I still recognize it all, as if it I had seen it all before. "Zara," I say again, reaching out for her face. "You... You came..."
A passing nurse freezes in her tracks and gives me a worried stare. I do not blame her. When has anyone seen a 98-year-old bawl like a child?
"Baba, I wanted to come... every second of every day," she says, bursting into tears too. "I'm sorry it took me all this time... I just never could find the courage I–"
"Zara, I am the coward here... I was the one parted ways with your mother when she told me she was carrying our child. I swear to you, I replay that scene in my head as if it were yesterday. I can still hear that little voice in my mind say that I should have followed the woman in the red dress, no matter where it would take me. But I was the coward, Zara... I was the coward...."
"Baba... Ma told me everything. For the first forty years of my life I nothing but bitter loathing for you. I turned my heart black with the hate I had for a person I had never seen, and never known. I never asked about you because I was too afraid of what I would hear. Not until Ma was on her death bed did I find gather enough strength to ask... Hate is a seed baba, and I nourished it for so long that it became a tree. By the time I realized how terrifying it was, it had spread its tall, dark arms over me. I have spent decades hacking it down, so I could walk out from under its shadow and find my way to you."
I try to say something, but my voice cracks horribly with the strain. "I have waited everyday for you. For forty years, your mother and I exchanged letters. Never falling in love with anyone else, never forgetting all we made together. But I just couldn't say I wanted her back, not after what I had done to her. So I waited, and waited... but she never let me in."
"How could she let in what she never let out, Baba? You were always in her heart. She prayed for you every night. She sometimes said your name in her sleep. A part of my father was always there in our house. It took me all these years to realize I wanted to see the rest of him too. It was just... Ma said something about your dementia.. and about how your letters stopped for weeks at a stretch, and sometimes how you would write the same letter four weeks in a row. I never knew if you'd recognize me if I came to you. That kept me from walking to you, even when I knew exactly where you were..."
I reach out to the bedside table and clasp the only possession I've had in the past five years. "My mind is a strange place, Zara. It is a muddled, confused, broken place. But this..." I pass the picture to her. "I look at this picture every hour. I whisper to my mind, never forget, never forget. She told me you had my eyes, and my hair so I'd never recognize you... But she still told me that if you ever came to this hospital, I would know. This dress looks as beautiful on you as it did on her, Zara. She knew all along that this dress would put all the pieces in my head back together. You look just like her, Zara. It is like falling in love all over again."
"Zara was my mother's name, Baba. My name is Afsah. I am here now, Baba. I am here."
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r/whiteshadowthebook
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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The last few months have been agonizing, and I know that I don’t have much time left. About four years ago, I developed a cough that wouldn’t go away. I ignored it as men do, but finally, Nelly, my grandaughter, convinced me to go to my doctor. And Dr. Shah was concerned, so the testing started.
Initially, the cat scan showed a small nodule that, as it was, turned out to be cancer. Since then, my body has been ravaged first by radiation treatment, then surgery, and finally chemotherapy. The oncologist told me I was not a good candidate for any of these things, and my prognosis was poor. At first, my sweet oncologist told me I had maybe six months to live, then later, a year, and then she finally stopped giving me time frames and only provided gentle encouragement.
I’m sure part of my survival is I kept setting goals. See Kyle graduate with his PhD. Give a speech at Deliah’s wedding. Hold my first great-great-grandbaby. I’ve lived a good life, and these last four years of borrowed time has made me a more generous, more determined, and more peaceful in mind and soul. The body, however, has been a nightmare.
Every time I move in this uncomfortable bed, the smell of stale piss whiffs up from under the sheets because I can no longer maneuver the urinal quick enough to catch it all. I’m trying to keep my pride, but it’s getting harder by the day. I’m fading, and my bones now host cancer, that slipped from that one nodule to seed itself all over my body. I’m in so much pain I feel raw like my nerves are scraping against the blankets. And when I’m not shifting trying to escape this sensation, I’m watching the clock for my next dose of pain meds.
My only escape is the family that comes to see me. They all wear their funeral faces and talk of the future with the tears in their eyes. They know I won’t be there, their hope is spread thin by the day. They know what, what I have yet to accept.
I am going to die. There is no more home for me. This was the last try, a chemotherapy treatment that was not chemotherapy. I think they called it biotherapy, the details are kind of hard to follow these days. But, I’m willing to try anything. And well, now there is nothing left.
The nurse comes and gives me my pain meds, and I feel warm and dizzy, and the pain fades, and I sleep for a bit. This is my mercy in these dark hours. I fall asleep to little Macy’s voice singing me the songs she’s learning in kindergarten, an alphabet with a few misplaced letters, and a song that is a story about a mouse and a cookie.
When I wake up again, the blinds are drawn, and it is dark. I look at the clock, and I wonder if the nurse medicated while I was sleeping. I still feel warm, and the pain feels like a distant point. I need to pee, and my urinal is on the bedside table. I don’t smell like piss, and I don’t want to incase Robert comes to visit after work like he has the last two nights, and I decided to try and reach it, and I was able to with ease - thinking that they must have switched my medication, and I could cry with relief. The absence of misery is a beautiful thing. I forget about my business, looking out the door to the bright light of the hall, then I see her.
She has beautiful dark skin, and natural hair pulled into a braided bun at the base of her neck. Her skin is a dark cocoa color; the harsh fluorescent lights seem to illuminate off of her bare shoulders. She moved with confidence, the pooled skirt on dress seeming to float just above her knees. She wears what I’ve waited for my entire life, a red dress with gold polka dots.
I know I shouldn’t have tried to get up, but I did - and it took me a moment to realize for the first time in a week I was standing on both of my feet. “Ma’am,” I say, moving quickly to my doorway and then out into the long white hall closing the space between us. She pauses and holds out her hand for me, her eyes spark like ebony, as I wrap my gnarled, pale hand into her robust and smooth grip. Her skin is warm and soft, it reminded me of the quilt my grandmother made me, she smelled like my son the first time I held him, and her grip was the hard lessons my first boss taught me when I was in the folly of my youth.
I am absolutely enchanted, all the pain gone.
I’ve never met her, but I’ve never forgotten her. I’ve always remembered the voice that whispered to me when, after my family pulled me out of the lake, half-dead at the age of four. As I coughed up lungs full of water, over my mother’s sobbing, the sound of fear in my older brother’s voice, and the brisk slaps on my back from my father, I remember the clam of her dark lips pressed to into my ear. I could hear the smile in her voice as she spoke, “It’s not time, I wear the sky today. Follow me with a red dress with the gold polka dots.”
I squeeze her hand, and she squeezes mine back, with her long fingers graceful, nails crescent moons, and we start to walk together down the long hall. As we move, she seems to get taller, but no less beautiful. No less pleasant, never once losing her smile, as we go further, my legs are toddling to keep up with her until finally, I feel myself land on my bottom unable to keep the wobble out of my gait.
I feel a moment of fear. A moment of emotional pain that she would leave me. I extend my pale arms to her, the skin smooth, and my hands pudgy. She stops and picks me up, and I wrap my arms around her neck and breath her in. She smells like my childhood home on cold winter mornings, like the locker room after my high school won the football championship, and like my wife, before I was widowed.
I’m aware that I am naked, but now, there is no shame. We move down a set of stairs, and I’m warm and comfortable, but I feel even smaller in her grasp, as she moves to coddle me in her arms, and all I can make out is her face and her lips and that smile. I reach for her, and my hands are so tiny, and her face is so blurry and perfect, and I try to tell her to thank you, but all that comes out is a coo.
Time means nothing.
We stop moving, and she is rocking me before she presses a kiss to my forehead and lifts me to the light.
There is a moment of pain, and I’m screaming at the shock of cold air into my lungs as I take the first breath and then I’m laid on my mother’s chest. I forget everything, except for the smell of mommy’s skin.
[edit: Fixed typos, and posted correctly.]
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All my life I have been looking for her. I don't even know her name, or what she looks like. All I know is what she will be wearing, a red dress with gold polka dots. I was looking for her at my prom. I was looking for her at college. I searched for her at my wedding. I searched for her at work. Even now as I lay in my death bed, I am searching for her. I have spent so long searching for her that I am more scared of finding her then not. It has been 91 years since I was put on the hunt for this mysterious goddess. I have never told anyone about her because the second I said it out loud I was worried that I would loose faith. Faith in her. Faith in what she stands for. After all these decades the idea of finding this woman has become as ever reaching as the ocean itself. What does she want? Does she need help? Is she going to help me? Her existence has taken my mind over. Then I saw it. No face, no features, just the flutter of fabric. I use all the strength I can muster to stand from my hospital bed and use the IV stand as a cane to help me walk to the door. As I approach the door the world begins to feel like its spinning and I think to myself "Don't you do it God. Not when I am this close." As I open the door fully I turn my head and I see her. The woman in a red dress and gold polka dots. The very being that I have spent every waking minute since I was 7 longing for. I reach out and the second I touch her I collapse. I feel a warm ray on my face as I open my eyes for what I think is the last. I see only her. No hospital, no light, no sound of coughing or people in pain. I can only feel her. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd never find me" the angelic voice penetrates my ears. "Come on, we have places to be." I suddenly gain the strength to stand and look around. Nothing. Just a void of white. The only thing in existence is me and her. "I have been searching for you for 91 years and I don't even know your name. Could you please tell me." This has been the most pressing question to me. Not how I heard that voice all those years ago, her name. That is all I need to be able to be happy. "I go by many names. You can call me Adonai. Now come you have a message to deliver." I always had my suspicions in who she was but Adonai? God? that was never even in my wildest fantasies. She continues "Do you remember that time when you were 5 when you helped that girl? She was cold and shaking in an alley and you ran away from your parents to go and help her. Most children just do nothing or even just tell your parents who would have called the police, not you. You wanted to personally help that scared girl." This was a memory I had long forgotten about but now they seem as clear to me as anything I have ever experienced. That little girl was so sad all i wanted to do was help her. It was then that I remembered she was wearing a red dress, with golden polka dots. "That little girl was you?" I question God with a smirk on my face. "Yes it was. I have done a similar test to every child that has ever lived. Now come on you still have to start your journey." She reached her hand out to me and as I grab it we are whisked away. It took me a few moments to fully understand where we were. We were in my childhood bedroom and I could see my younger self playing with Lincoln logs on the floor. I look down at myself and I can see right through my legs. "Go on. You know what to tell him." She gives me a little pat on the back as I go down to floor and softly whisper to myself, "Find the woman in the red dress with the golden polka dots." My younger self looks up confused and then we returned to the void. "You have accomplished the cycle. Now you are ready for your next step. You will share the same gift as all who have helped others. you will be reincarnated. The world always needs more people like you. Thank you." As she said this she began to fade further and further away from me and then, darkness.
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[WP] When you were a child, a mysterious voice whispered "follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots". All your life, you never saw her. Now, lying in the hospital, 98 years old, you see a woman in a red dress and gold polka dots walk past your room.
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“Follow the woman in the red dress with the gold polka dots,” a voice whispered in the dark. I was in my bed, swaddles in the blankets and trying my best to go to sleep. At that moment, I was frozen, the voice frightening, yet as soothing as my own mother’s. When I sat bolt upright and pulled the chain on the little pink lamb lamp that sat on my nightstand, the darkness fled and I was alone in the room. I screamed for my mother, but I couldn’t tell her what happened, or that I felt the warmth of the breath as the voice spoke.
That was the exact memory that sprang to mind as I saw the flash of red from the corner of my eye. I was in respite in the hospital, my 98-year-old form finally giving its last hurrah after a fall in which my brittle bones and paper skin gave me little hope of making it to 99. Weakly, I pinched the loose skin on my side to make sure I was awake. I felt it, just as sure as I could hear the beeping of all the monitors they had attached to me and could smell the antiseptic crispness of the cotton pillow that cradled my head. Hopeful, I kept my gaze steady on the doorway and hoped for another glimpse. It was a habit I’d formed since that fateful night – any vision of red drew my immediate and unbroken attention.
The lights in the hallway went dim and I faded, the excitement of the red sighting took too much of my limited energy. As my eyes began to close, I saw it again, but this time I saw the form of a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a long, flowing gown of red with gold polka dots. She stopped in my doorway and smiled at me. “I’ve been waiting,” she whispered, though I didn’t see her lips move.
I froze. That voice, her voice, were as familiar to me in my memory. “It’s you,” I gasped.
She beckoned to me, her lithe index finger crooked towards me. “It’s time,” she said.
The pain from my fracture dissipated and I began to feel like I was floating above myself, though I refused to look back, afraid that I would see something I was not ready to see. I uprighted myself and stood up, but didn’t notice the chill from the cold linoleum floor seeping through my socks as I usually did. There was no feeling, only an envelope of warmth and love as I tentatively stepped toward her. She reached for me and I grasped her hand as I approached. “Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m your grandmother, Grace,” she smiled as she led me towards a bright light at the end of the hospital corridor.
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The fluorescent light had been making a whirring noise for at least an hour. That's how long Maggie had been awake. She'd been irritated by it for about fifty minutes. She once again glanced at the clock facing her bed and sighed. Aging bones creaked in protest as she sat up and tried to find the nurse call bell. The stupid thing kept falling down the side of the bed and getting tangled up.
"Excuse me!"
Her voice was hoarse from dehydration. How long had she been in hospital for this time? At ninety-eight years old it felt like she never left the damn place. The nurses were busy and Maggie knew they couldn't always get to her straight away but there was no need to obviously avoid eye contact on the way past. She was already sat on the edge of the bed looking for her walking stick when she saw a flash of red fabric with gold spots hurry past the doorway.
A memory came rushing back of a strange man at a fairground telling her to follow the red dress with the gold polka dots. She'd laughed but he'd been very serious and as she'd walked away he'd shouted the same instruction after her. She'd spent the whole day looking out for it and then the coming years wondering what he had meant. The obvious conclusion, she'd decided, is that he was mad.
"Well if it's nothing I'll tell them I got lost looking for the bathroom" she thought to herself, and with that, stick in hand, Maggie shuffled out of her room, down the corridor, and after the red dress with the gold polka dots.
A few minutes of walking later Maggie was tiring. Her arthritis was playing up and she'd left her hearing aid on the bedside table. The red dress seemed to stay round the next corner the entire time which was not helping her fraying temper. It almost felt rude that this red-dressed stranger didn't have the common decency to walk a bit more slowly when they were unknowingly being followed around a hospital by a nonogenarian with a bad hip, bad hearing, a leaky heart valve and no cardigan.
Maggie suddenly stopped. She'd turned into a dead end and the red dress had gone. In fact, everybody had gone... "It definitely went this way". Maybe she was mad now too. They say that can happen to old people in hospitals; you get an infection then just like that you're halllucinating frogs and beetles and red dresses... But what if she wasn't mad.
This corridor was different somehow and it took her a second to put her finger on why. It was the pictures. These were different than the other pictures she'd see in the hospital; the others were all bowls of fruit and smiling kids and landscapes behind cheap perspex frames. These were older and looked like they belonged in a gallery; scenes of important looking men and women having important type discussions in grand rooms. She tried to straighten her stooped back as she looked around and slowly made her way to the end of the corridor.
Another memory came to mind. The children mustn't have been more than ten or twelve years old when they went to the V&A in London. They'd been on a family day out and then the rain had started so they'd opted for some culture and then John ended up being told off by a security guard for pointing and laughing at the paintings of naked people. She smiled to herself. Those really had been some amazing days.
The final picture was the biggest and filled the end wall of the corridor. Maggie took a moment to admire the fine detail of the painting, each brush stroke precise, the individual faces all unique. You could almost feel the atmosphere in that room as they discussed 'The Guardianship of The Souls of St Thomas' Hospital' as the painting was called. And then she saw it. A lady wearing a red dress with gold polka dots was peering out from behind a pillar watching the discussion in the painting, from within the painting. Maggie startled in disbelief, then slowly raised a hand, as if to touch the painting, as if to see if it really was just oil and canvas, without ever taking her eyes off the lady's face.
At the exact moment her fingertip brushed the painting there was a loud clattering noise as an ownerless walking stick fell to the floor in a now empty disused corridor of St Thomas' Hospital.
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