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[WP] You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive.
|
I winced as the hero flew through a dumpster and into the brick wall behind it. I'd hoped to avoid the property damage that usually comes with this stuff, but I had to hand it to him, the guy was stronger than expected.
See, when I first got my powers -creating and controlling ice- I didn't really take a side, like I was supposed to. Instead, I just tried to keep the superdrama away from my home and the people I love.
That...didn't go over too well with the other supers. Especially when it became clear that I wouldn't be won over to either side and that- apparently- I wasn't aging or weakening at all as the years passed.
So you'd think that they would just stay away, right? Keep their monologues and insurance nightmares in Gotham, right? But noooo, they had to try and *kill* me because they thought I'd become a *threat.*
Well oh boy, were they right on the money.
Megaman? Zonked. Sent to the ER with ice shards in his brain. I think he was alright though.
Queen cobra? KOd. She was actually quite fun to hang out with though, we play online chess every now and then.
And this guy, the one who went through the dumpster? Well, I think he's alive. Not too sure, I was...otherwise engaged when he came round.
Basically I was a chaotic neutral. I didn't seek trouble out, but they seemed to come to me. I'd been labeled as a villian long ago, and as far as I knew I was the only super who has chosen a side yet.
At least, until I met her.
As dumpster guy groaned, slumping to the ground, I heard a slow clap behind me.
*Oh, bloody wonderful.* I thought. *He's got backup.*
But when I turned, I didn't see an ominous villian in a cape, or a spandex clad hero, instead, standing there was a girl. She wasn't special, ateast not on the surface. She was maybe 16 or 17, tall, with dark hair and intense blue eyes. She didn't wear a costume or even a mask, just a red sweater with yoga shorts and a pair of worn out sneakers. She approached me slowly, with an odd smile on her face.
"So, I take it you're Blizzard?" She asked, stopping a few feet away. Her eyes strayed over to the unconscious man behind me, and the frost creeping up the walls.
I cleared my throat and resumed a stance. "Yes, I won't fight you unless I have to, but if you make me, well..." I glance at the hero. To my surprise, she just smiled.
"Trust me, I have no desire to fight you, John Gray."
I flinched, I hadn't been called my real name in years.
She held out her hand. "Name's Al. But for now, call me Cherry Bomb."
"Wait, I've heard of you. You're that girl who went around disarming villians bombs a couple years back. I thought you-"
"Died? Yeah, I worked hard on that one. It's surprisingly difficult to fake your own explosion and resurface a few years later with a different identity."
"So..what do you want from me?"
"Well..." she reached into her purse and pulled out a card. "I've heard you say you're the only neutral one, hmm?"
"Yeah..."
"I want to change that. No more heros, no more villains. No one else needs to be forced into one side or another. Life is never black and white, and this should be no exception."
She held out the card, it was professional, white with gold, cursive lettering that said **The Middle Ground Project**. Below it was a phone number and adress.
"Meet me there on Monday." She said, pointing to the adress. And the rest is history.
The reason we started this project is because, as we all know, with great power comes great responsibility. But that's not fair, it's not fair for everyone with these...powers, to have to choose. The Middle Ground Project has been a revolutionary movement, letting abnormal people lead normal lives.
And while yes, there will always be heros, and there will always be villains, sometimes, we just need someone in the middle.
|
Has it been that through every ounce of good I’ve brought I simultaneously bring destruction? I lift and pull impossible tons of weight, I defy odds. I am what every person wishes to be and still I feel small. It’s all in a days work to be a hero. I chase and fight the crime simple humans could never imagine trying. Yet, when I look around I crave the simplicity they possess. I crave to be normal. Or at least what’s normal to them.
I heard a girl saying the other day how she bombed her math test. I saw a tear leave her eye as her mother hugged her and said “you are good enough, you will be okay”. To me that is heroic in itself. To comfort one another when we feel defeated, oh how easy it must be to love. If so why is this world so cruel? Why must I keep defeating villain after villain? If there’s some amount of good then there must be evil, but I think without me there wouldn’t be good. Or maybe even in the bad there will still be good without me. Or perhaps I am the bad that motivated others to be good. Killing people because I deem it fit for the greatest good isn’t inherently a good thing. Yet, it’s a calling nonetheless. I will wear my suit and perform impossible feats every day of my life. Although sometimes I’d rather lay on the ground and stare at the world around me. I’d rather be an observer, I’d rather fail a test to have a mother comfort me. I’d rather be imperfect than good at the impossible so that I felt inspired.
I wish.. I wasn’t the villain of my own story.
|
|
[WP] You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive.
|
I crush the Steel Soldier’s helmet and toss it back to the guy. His teammates are all no better, battered and beaten mentally and physically.
Ameri-Maiden gives one of her speeches - the talks of freedom and justice and all that other junk right before Super-Natural teleports them away with my doomsday device.
I chase after it just as the portal closes and scream bloody murder. I make sure to spend the next fifteen minutes trashing the place.
See, you have to sell the whole bit or else they might think it was all smoke and mirrors.
Which it was.
“What a day,” I groan as my robotic minions start cleaning up the place. I receive the suggestion from one to remove the bugs left by Fadestep. “Leave around ten of them.”
Giving the heroes these small victories was well worth its weight in gold.
My doomsday device? Now that they had it, I got myself a good couple of months - maybe even half a year! - of them figuring out what it does while fighting of my “colleagues” who would go after it.
Good luck figuring out what that junk can do. I never had.
Once the cleanup is finished, I let myself slip into my civilian clothes.
I enjoy a nice stroll through the park and treat myself to a chocolate muffin from Maddison’s. I promised myself to go on a diet last week but these superhero fights really make me crave carbs.
Part of the reason why I ended up in this situation was how stressful I found the whole thing.
It started out great. And I loved it for the first couple of years. But then it just started to wear me down, you know? The constant night missions. The seemingly never-ending crises and final battles for the fate of the universe.
Thing is… You don’t get to retire in our line of work. Even if you miraculously live to the age when it would be acceptable, the whole community is going to start pushing some snot-nosed fanboy or some teen with issues on you.
My plan was simple, really.
Beat everyone up and make it clear that this was No Super Land. Sure, I expected the backlash from my few friends in the superhero community. But once I showed that the city would be safe without us all involved, I was sure they would let it go.
I mean, freaking Master Impossible was on the Crusaders! And he killed half of them before! If they could forgive that, then surely they could let me rough a few guys up before settling in.
Unfortunately, it seemed, my former colleagues didn’t like the idea as you might have figured out by now.
These days, my city is one of the safest places in the whole country.
And I really hope I get to keep it that way for years to come.
|
Has it been that through every ounce of good I’ve brought I simultaneously bring destruction? I lift and pull impossible tons of weight, I defy odds. I am what every person wishes to be and still I feel small. It’s all in a days work to be a hero. I chase and fight the crime simple humans could never imagine trying. Yet, when I look around I crave the simplicity they possess. I crave to be normal. Or at least what’s normal to them.
I heard a girl saying the other day how she bombed her math test. I saw a tear leave her eye as her mother hugged her and said “you are good enough, you will be okay”. To me that is heroic in itself. To comfort one another when we feel defeated, oh how easy it must be to love. If so why is this world so cruel? Why must I keep defeating villain after villain? If there’s some amount of good then there must be evil, but I think without me there wouldn’t be good. Or maybe even in the bad there will still be good without me. Or perhaps I am the bad that motivated others to be good. Killing people because I deem it fit for the greatest good isn’t inherently a good thing. Yet, it’s a calling nonetheless. I will wear my suit and perform impossible feats every day of my life. Although sometimes I’d rather lay on the ground and stare at the world around me. I’d rather be an observer, I’d rather fail a test to have a mother comfort me. I’d rather be imperfect than good at the impossible so that I felt inspired.
I wish.. I wasn’t the villain of my own story.
|
|
[WP] You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive.
|
Born as one of the golden souls, what most people call “superheroes” or “supervillains” I was surprised to see my full power. I could fly, run fast, predict and calculate, in the eyes of the regular, they might even call me a god.
However, my power is usually fine kept to myself, I’d rather keep this city quiet, safe and sound. If the usual bad event happens, who gives a shit? Not me. Hopefully. The city has been, might I say, peaceful. But nothing lasts forever. Some asshole, also a golden soul, presented themself as “THE DOOMHANDLER”, awful name for starters, and that he “SHALL RULE ALL OF NIMBLETERM” Guess I gotta put these powers to use. In the middle of his monologue about taking over the entire city, turning the roads to lava, bla bla bla— I punched him smack dab in the face and he was GONE. Not a supervillain after all, just a shitvillain. Oh well, people praised me. I wore a mask just in case people tried to snoop in on my identity. Guess I should reveal this: My hidden identity name is “Neutral”, and judging by that, I’m not a superhero nor a supervillain. Superneutral works.
Later down the line, Powerman entered the city. Apparently he’s a hero who crosses the land in seek of protecting from evil. I confronted him on his arrival.
“Powerman.” I spoke.
“Hello, Neutral. I see you’ve recovered from your battle with The Doomhandler.” .. Fuck does he mean? I one-tapped the idiot.
“Okay, nice, anyways, what’re you doing here?” I responded. “With my foreshadowing brain, I sense that evil is afoot here, and thus for now, I will protect Nimbleterm from all threats!.. You don’t mind, right?”
“… Sure.” I hesitated. Of course, the fucker needed to go. But I need to learn his weaknesses. A rookie supervillain is stupid, but you need to assess an enemy who could be smarter. Days passed, and a new supervillain appeared. Mr. Kill, Powerman’s arch enemy. I decided that today was the day.
“So, Powerman.. You thought you could take refuge in this barren city? Where you can’t even find anything but me to write in your resume?”, Mr. Kill spoke, “Leave this place, or I will have to take matters into my own hands.” Powerman responded,
“Really? But this time I’ve prepared a special gift for—“ I intervened. Knocked Mr. Kill right in the face, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” spoke the both of them, I didn’t know what to do with him, but to make the news more bright, I threw him into the sun. Killed a dude today, but I’m sure God knows their sins outweigh min— “What did you do to Mr. Kill?” Powerman shouted. “I took him out of this city.” “… Well, splendid. Didn’t know you were the quick ty—“ “I want you out of my city too.”
“… Well, it’s no wonder why they call you Neutral—“ “No, I gotta go see my friends tomorrow, we’re doing some cool shit. I don’t want it interrupted by the astroid hurdling towards Earth you call ‘saving the city’. Get out.”
He reached for a walkie talkie of some kind, “Heroes, I need you here. Stat.” Suddenly, 5 other superheroes appeared. Looked like some ripoffs of some heroes on TV. “Needed something?” Said the spider-man bootleg, I speeded over to Powerman and decked him right in the face. Immediately, all the other 5 attacked. Simple work, but it was a challenge. I ended up killing 3 of them, Powerman included. One time it wasn’t even intentional. My bad.
I went to the spider-man bootleg. “Tell the others what you just saw.” He and the other 2 ran off. I went up to the crowd watching. “Continue your life as normal. I don’t give a shit, see you tomorrow Darrel can’t wait to do that kart-racing.” I said and left.
Later, I get a phone call, from Darrel. “Heyyy Darrel how’s things?”
“God I’m glad I’m on your side, Mike. Okay, wait, THAT WAS YOU????” “Yeah? So what? Karting cancelled?” “No, karting’s still happening wednesday, but everybody sees ‘Neutral’ as a supervillain now.”
“Tell them I’m a superneutral. It rolls better.” “Okay, sure, just promise you’re not gonna end the world, right?” “End the-? Dude, you don’t have to panic, only people I’m fighting are the heroes and villains. I want things to be safe and sound around here, no interruptions.” “Okay but how does it feel to have killed 4 people and get away with it?” “Big whoop, as much as it would be cool to see superheroes flying everywhere, I’m not up to that.”
“Fair, see you wednesday?” “Yeah.” “And no superpowers.” “Haha fuck you, see you there.”
|
Has it been that through every ounce of good I’ve brought I simultaneously bring destruction? I lift and pull impossible tons of weight, I defy odds. I am what every person wishes to be and still I feel small. It’s all in a days work to be a hero. I chase and fight the crime simple humans could never imagine trying. Yet, when I look around I crave the simplicity they possess. I crave to be normal. Or at least what’s normal to them.
I heard a girl saying the other day how she bombed her math test. I saw a tear leave her eye as her mother hugged her and said “you are good enough, you will be okay”. To me that is heroic in itself. To comfort one another when we feel defeated, oh how easy it must be to love. If so why is this world so cruel? Why must I keep defeating villain after villain? If there’s some amount of good then there must be evil, but I think without me there wouldn’t be good. Or maybe even in the bad there will still be good without me. Or perhaps I am the bad that motivated others to be good. Killing people because I deem it fit for the greatest good isn’t inherently a good thing. Yet, it’s a calling nonetheless. I will wear my suit and perform impossible feats every day of my life. Although sometimes I’d rather lay on the ground and stare at the world around me. I’d rather be an observer, I’d rather fail a test to have a mother comfort me. I’d rather be imperfect than good at the impossible so that I felt inspired.
I wish.. I wasn’t the villain of my own story.
|
|
[WP] You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive.
|
87. Eighty-seven dead "Supers". Hero, villain, new, old. It didn't matter. They left, or I killed them.
It was always the same story. The Super shows up, announces his presence and claims they are here for one reason or another. "I'm here to flush out a villain"
"I will uproot this stupid hierarchy" "I will make you all pay for destroying nature" "this city now belongs to me" blah blah fucking blah.
I get a call, or I see them in the air, or on a new tree, or on a pile of blown up cars. I don't even bother changing. No stupid costume, no useless 8 inch mask, not even a balaclava. I step forward, and meet whoever is present.
The first 20 would smile. They would sit there, smirk, and attempt to mock or make their reasoning. I would interrupt.
"Leave or Die. Choose."
It wasn't until after my kill count was well in the twenties that someone took up the leave offer.
The ones that stayed fought like it was a game, some stupid power-dick measuring contest. Started off with some generic blasts or a punch as subtle as a firework display. I did the only winning move possible. I didn't play. Dodge the first attack, hit them hard, hit them fast. Some would survive, and those would learn quickly. I did not joke, did not play, and certainly didn't care how the fight looked. So they would try to fight the way I do. It never really works for them. Fighting dirty, throwing your hardest, fastest move every time, not letting them recover, and best of all, not telegraphing every attack like it's a fucking boss battle. Not a word from me, no cocked back punches, no charging up blasts, none of it. They can't handle it.
When they finally got hurt to the point they couldn't fight back, they would lock eyes and ask why, every single time. I always gave the same answer. The same statement I said every, single, time I killed one.
"No heroes, no villains. I won't allow any in Leverend Metropolis."
I was called a villain, just so they could lump me up somewhere. Tell that to the cops. They will tell you otherwise. Leverend Metropolis hasn't had any large scale destruction of property, mass casualties, or large scale crimes since I started intervening. People know my face, know my name, know the people I love and care about. It doesn't matter. They all live in Leverend, and to take them without revealing themselves is a challenge none were capable of doing.
Recently I got a call. Phase-something was spotted flying into Leverend. Same old same old.
When I got to him, I expected a monologue. What I got instead was a half-ghost guy in a full blown panic.
"L-Look, I know this-this-this is your t-town and all, b-but my daughter-"
"Leave, or D- wait... What?"
I had seen just about every type of Super just shy of this one. They always knew I show up. Most of them would at least pretend to look confident, if not slightly rattled. This guy was a full blown mess. Costume tattered, hair all over the place, barely even present, in more ways than one. And he took one look at me and borderline shit himself.
"I'm not here to cause t-t-trouble I just, flew here as fast as I could, please, she's gonna die"
"Who?"
"My daughter, she's been stabbed here, in this city, I-I-I, she's all I have left, I can't lose her. I'll leave immediately after, I'll change out, I'll do anything, but please, I can't lose her."
I stared. Eyes locked on. If it wasn't for the fact that he is a sobbing, bleeding, chaotic trainwreck, I might have disregarded what he had to say. The only reason I kill supers, the only reason this city has thrived, is because I simply want the peace and quiet that doesn't come with Supers openly running about the Metropolis. Killing him means a citizen may actually die, but letting him live... Means... Means broadcasting an exception to my rule.
I certainly have heard of friends and family of Supers moving to Leverend before. Hell, it's practically "how not to get held hostage by borderline gods in tights" rule number 1. But why was his daughter not with- you know what, nevermind. Best not to think that hard about it.
"...Fuck it. Come with me, police stations first. Do you know where she is?"
If there ever was a look of genuine relief and joy, this guy absolutely had it. Or he was a movie star or spy when he wasn't in costume.
"Y-yes, I know where it is"
"Good. Give them the statement, I'll have a medic there in 5 minutes tops."
If you live in Leverend Metropolis, a Super should be your last worry. Because Uriel is, has, and will be there to stop them.
|
Has it been that through every ounce of good I’ve brought I simultaneously bring destruction? I lift and pull impossible tons of weight, I defy odds. I am what every person wishes to be and still I feel small. It’s all in a days work to be a hero. I chase and fight the crime simple humans could never imagine trying. Yet, when I look around I crave the simplicity they possess. I crave to be normal. Or at least what’s normal to them.
I heard a girl saying the other day how she bombed her math test. I saw a tear leave her eye as her mother hugged her and said “you are good enough, you will be okay”. To me that is heroic in itself. To comfort one another when we feel defeated, oh how easy it must be to love. If so why is this world so cruel? Why must I keep defeating villain after villain? If there’s some amount of good then there must be evil, but I think without me there wouldn’t be good. Or maybe even in the bad there will still be good without me. Or perhaps I am the bad that motivated others to be good. Killing people because I deem it fit for the greatest good isn’t inherently a good thing. Yet, it’s a calling nonetheless. I will wear my suit and perform impossible feats every day of my life. Although sometimes I’d rather lay on the ground and stare at the world around me. I’d rather be an observer, I’d rather fail a test to have a mother comfort me. I’d rather be imperfect than good at the impossible so that I felt inspired.
I wish.. I wasn’t the villain of my own story.
|
|
[WP] You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive.
|
87. Eighty-seven dead "Supers". Hero, villain, new, old. It didn't matter. They left, or I killed them.
It was always the same story. The Super shows up, announces his presence and claims they are here for one reason or another. "I'm here to flush out a villain"
"I will uproot this stupid hierarchy" "I will make you all pay for destroying nature" "this city now belongs to me" blah blah fucking blah.
I get a call, or I see them in the air, or on a new tree, or on a pile of blown up cars. I don't even bother changing. No stupid costume, no useless 8 inch mask, not even a balaclava. I step forward, and meet whoever is present.
The first 20 would smile. They would sit there, smirk, and attempt to mock or make their reasoning. I would interrupt.
"Leave or Die. Choose."
It wasn't until after my kill count was well in the twenties that someone took up the leave offer.
The ones that stayed fought like it was a game, some stupid power-dick measuring contest. Started off with some generic blasts or a punch as subtle as a firework display. I did the only winning move possible. I didn't play. Dodge the first attack, hit them hard, hit them fast. Some would survive, and those would learn quickly. I did not joke, did not play, and certainly didn't care how the fight looked. So they would try to fight the way I do. It never really works for them. Fighting dirty, throwing your hardest, fastest move every time, not letting them recover, and best of all, not telegraphing every attack like it's a fucking boss battle. Not a word from me, no cocked back punches, no charging up blasts, none of it. They can't handle it.
When they finally got hurt to the point they couldn't fight back, they would lock eyes and ask why, every single time. I always gave the same answer. The same statement I said every, single, time I killed one.
"No heroes, no villains. I won't allow any in Leverend Metropolis."
I was called a villain, just so they could lump me up somewhere. Tell that to the cops. They will tell you otherwise. Leverend Metropolis hasn't had any large scale destruction of property, mass casualties, or large scale crimes since I started intervening. People know my face, know my name, know the people I love and care about. It doesn't matter. They all live in Leverend, and to take them without revealing themselves is a challenge none were capable of doing.
Recently I got a call. Phase-something was spotted flying into Leverend. Same old same old.
When I got to him, I expected a monologue. What I got instead was a half-ghost guy in a full blown panic.
"L-Look, I know this-this-this is your t-town and all, b-but my daughter-"
"Leave, or D- wait... What?"
I had seen just about every type of Super just shy of this one. They always knew I show up. Most of them would at least pretend to look confident, if not slightly rattled. This guy was a full blown mess. Costume tattered, hair all over the place, barely even present, in more ways than one. And he took one look at me and borderline shit himself.
"I'm not here to cause t-t-trouble I just, flew here as fast as I could, please, she's gonna die"
"Who?"
"My daughter, she's been stabbed here, in this city, I-I-I, she's all I have left, I can't lose her. I'll leave immediately after, I'll change out, I'll do anything, but please, I can't lose her."
I stared. Eyes locked on. If it wasn't for the fact that he is a sobbing, bleeding, chaotic trainwreck, I might have disregarded what he had to say. The only reason I kill supers, the only reason this city has thrived, is because I simply want the peace and quiet that doesn't come with Supers openly running about the Metropolis. Killing him means a citizen may actually die, but letting him live... Means... Means broadcasting an exception to my rule.
I certainly have heard of friends and family of Supers moving to Leverend before. Hell, it's practically "how not to get held hostage by borderline gods in tights" rule number 1. But why was his daughter not with- you know what, nevermind. Best not to think that hard about it.
"...Fuck it. Come with me, police stations first. Do you know where she is?"
If there ever was a look of genuine relief and joy, this guy absolutely had it. Or he was a movie star or spy when he wasn't in costume.
"Y-yes, I know where it is"
"Good. Give them the statement, I'll have a medic there in 5 minutes tops."
If you live in Leverend Metropolis, a Super should be your last worry. Because Uriel is, has, and will be there to stop them.
|
I crush the Steel Soldier’s helmet and toss it back to the guy. His teammates are all no better, battered and beaten mentally and physically.
Ameri-Maiden gives one of her speeches - the talks of freedom and justice and all that other junk right before Super-Natural teleports them away with my doomsday device.
I chase after it just as the portal closes and scream bloody murder. I make sure to spend the next fifteen minutes trashing the place.
See, you have to sell the whole bit or else they might think it was all smoke and mirrors.
Which it was.
“What a day,” I groan as my robotic minions start cleaning up the place. I receive the suggestion from one to remove the bugs left by Fadestep. “Leave around ten of them.”
Giving the heroes these small victories was well worth its weight in gold.
My doomsday device? Now that they had it, I got myself a good couple of months - maybe even half a year! - of them figuring out what it does while fighting of my “colleagues” who would go after it.
Good luck figuring out what that junk can do. I never had.
Once the cleanup is finished, I let myself slip into my civilian clothes.
I enjoy a nice stroll through the park and treat myself to a chocolate muffin from Maddison’s. I promised myself to go on a diet last week but these superhero fights really make me crave carbs.
Part of the reason why I ended up in this situation was how stressful I found the whole thing.
It started out great. And I loved it for the first couple of years. But then it just started to wear me down, you know? The constant night missions. The seemingly never-ending crises and final battles for the fate of the universe.
Thing is… You don’t get to retire in our line of work. Even if you miraculously live to the age when it would be acceptable, the whole community is going to start pushing some snot-nosed fanboy or some teen with issues on you.
My plan was simple, really.
Beat everyone up and make it clear that this was No Super Land. Sure, I expected the backlash from my few friends in the superhero community. But once I showed that the city would be safe without us all involved, I was sure they would let it go.
I mean, freaking Master Impossible was on the Crusaders! And he killed half of them before! If they could forgive that, then surely they could let me rough a few guys up before settling in.
Unfortunately, it seemed, my former colleagues didn’t like the idea as you might have figured out by now.
These days, my city is one of the safest places in the whole country.
And I really hope I get to keep it that way for years to come.
|
|
[WP] You are a superhero, but you would really rather just live a peaceful life. So you fight every superpowered person in your home city, hero and villain alike, until they finally leave or die. Your home city is the safest around, but still you have been declared one of the worst villains alive.
|
87. Eighty-seven dead "Supers". Hero, villain, new, old. It didn't matter. They left, or I killed them.
It was always the same story. The Super shows up, announces his presence and claims they are here for one reason or another. "I'm here to flush out a villain"
"I will uproot this stupid hierarchy" "I will make you all pay for destroying nature" "this city now belongs to me" blah blah fucking blah.
I get a call, or I see them in the air, or on a new tree, or on a pile of blown up cars. I don't even bother changing. No stupid costume, no useless 8 inch mask, not even a balaclava. I step forward, and meet whoever is present.
The first 20 would smile. They would sit there, smirk, and attempt to mock or make their reasoning. I would interrupt.
"Leave or Die. Choose."
It wasn't until after my kill count was well in the twenties that someone took up the leave offer.
The ones that stayed fought like it was a game, some stupid power-dick measuring contest. Started off with some generic blasts or a punch as subtle as a firework display. I did the only winning move possible. I didn't play. Dodge the first attack, hit them hard, hit them fast. Some would survive, and those would learn quickly. I did not joke, did not play, and certainly didn't care how the fight looked. So they would try to fight the way I do. It never really works for them. Fighting dirty, throwing your hardest, fastest move every time, not letting them recover, and best of all, not telegraphing every attack like it's a fucking boss battle. Not a word from me, no cocked back punches, no charging up blasts, none of it. They can't handle it.
When they finally got hurt to the point they couldn't fight back, they would lock eyes and ask why, every single time. I always gave the same answer. The same statement I said every, single, time I killed one.
"No heroes, no villains. I won't allow any in Leverend Metropolis."
I was called a villain, just so they could lump me up somewhere. Tell that to the cops. They will tell you otherwise. Leverend Metropolis hasn't had any large scale destruction of property, mass casualties, or large scale crimes since I started intervening. People know my face, know my name, know the people I love and care about. It doesn't matter. They all live in Leverend, and to take them without revealing themselves is a challenge none were capable of doing.
Recently I got a call. Phase-something was spotted flying into Leverend. Same old same old.
When I got to him, I expected a monologue. What I got instead was a half-ghost guy in a full blown panic.
"L-Look, I know this-this-this is your t-town and all, b-but my daughter-"
"Leave, or D- wait... What?"
I had seen just about every type of Super just shy of this one. They always knew I show up. Most of them would at least pretend to look confident, if not slightly rattled. This guy was a full blown mess. Costume tattered, hair all over the place, barely even present, in more ways than one. And he took one look at me and borderline shit himself.
"I'm not here to cause t-t-trouble I just, flew here as fast as I could, please, she's gonna die"
"Who?"
"My daughter, she's been stabbed here, in this city, I-I-I, she's all I have left, I can't lose her. I'll leave immediately after, I'll change out, I'll do anything, but please, I can't lose her."
I stared. Eyes locked on. If it wasn't for the fact that he is a sobbing, bleeding, chaotic trainwreck, I might have disregarded what he had to say. The only reason I kill supers, the only reason this city has thrived, is because I simply want the peace and quiet that doesn't come with Supers openly running about the Metropolis. Killing him means a citizen may actually die, but letting him live... Means... Means broadcasting an exception to my rule.
I certainly have heard of friends and family of Supers moving to Leverend before. Hell, it's practically "how not to get held hostage by borderline gods in tights" rule number 1. But why was his daughter not with- you know what, nevermind. Best not to think that hard about it.
"...Fuck it. Come with me, police stations first. Do you know where she is?"
If there ever was a look of genuine relief and joy, this guy absolutely had it. Or he was a movie star or spy when he wasn't in costume.
"Y-yes, I know where it is"
"Good. Give them the statement, I'll have a medic there in 5 minutes tops."
If you live in Leverend Metropolis, a Super should be your last worry. Because Uriel is, has, and will be there to stop them.
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Born as one of the golden souls, what most people call “superheroes” or “supervillains” I was surprised to see my full power. I could fly, run fast, predict and calculate, in the eyes of the regular, they might even call me a god.
However, my power is usually fine kept to myself, I’d rather keep this city quiet, safe and sound. If the usual bad event happens, who gives a shit? Not me. Hopefully. The city has been, might I say, peaceful. But nothing lasts forever. Some asshole, also a golden soul, presented themself as “THE DOOMHANDLER”, awful name for starters, and that he “SHALL RULE ALL OF NIMBLETERM” Guess I gotta put these powers to use. In the middle of his monologue about taking over the entire city, turning the roads to lava, bla bla bla— I punched him smack dab in the face and he was GONE. Not a supervillain after all, just a shitvillain. Oh well, people praised me. I wore a mask just in case people tried to snoop in on my identity. Guess I should reveal this: My hidden identity name is “Neutral”, and judging by that, I’m not a superhero nor a supervillain. Superneutral works.
Later down the line, Powerman entered the city. Apparently he’s a hero who crosses the land in seek of protecting from evil. I confronted him on his arrival.
“Powerman.” I spoke.
“Hello, Neutral. I see you’ve recovered from your battle with The Doomhandler.” .. Fuck does he mean? I one-tapped the idiot.
“Okay, nice, anyways, what’re you doing here?” I responded. “With my foreshadowing brain, I sense that evil is afoot here, and thus for now, I will protect Nimbleterm from all threats!.. You don’t mind, right?”
“… Sure.” I hesitated. Of course, the fucker needed to go. But I need to learn his weaknesses. A rookie supervillain is stupid, but you need to assess an enemy who could be smarter. Days passed, and a new supervillain appeared. Mr. Kill, Powerman’s arch enemy. I decided that today was the day.
“So, Powerman.. You thought you could take refuge in this barren city? Where you can’t even find anything but me to write in your resume?”, Mr. Kill spoke, “Leave this place, or I will have to take matters into my own hands.” Powerman responded,
“Really? But this time I’ve prepared a special gift for—“ I intervened. Knocked Mr. Kill right in the face, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” spoke the both of them, I didn’t know what to do with him, but to make the news more bright, I threw him into the sun. Killed a dude today, but I’m sure God knows their sins outweigh min— “What did you do to Mr. Kill?” Powerman shouted. “I took him out of this city.” “… Well, splendid. Didn’t know you were the quick ty—“ “I want you out of my city too.”
“… Well, it’s no wonder why they call you Neutral—“ “No, I gotta go see my friends tomorrow, we’re doing some cool shit. I don’t want it interrupted by the astroid hurdling towards Earth you call ‘saving the city’. Get out.”
He reached for a walkie talkie of some kind, “Heroes, I need you here. Stat.” Suddenly, 5 other superheroes appeared. Looked like some ripoffs of some heroes on TV. “Needed something?” Said the spider-man bootleg, I speeded over to Powerman and decked him right in the face. Immediately, all the other 5 attacked. Simple work, but it was a challenge. I ended up killing 3 of them, Powerman included. One time it wasn’t even intentional. My bad.
I went to the spider-man bootleg. “Tell the others what you just saw.” He and the other 2 ran off. I went up to the crowd watching. “Continue your life as normal. I don’t give a shit, see you tomorrow Darrel can’t wait to do that kart-racing.” I said and left.
Later, I get a phone call, from Darrel. “Heyyy Darrel how’s things?”
“God I’m glad I’m on your side, Mike. Okay, wait, THAT WAS YOU????” “Yeah? So what? Karting cancelled?” “No, karting’s still happening wednesday, but everybody sees ‘Neutral’ as a supervillain now.”
“Tell them I’m a superneutral. It rolls better.” “Okay, sure, just promise you’re not gonna end the world, right?” “End the-? Dude, you don’t have to panic, only people I’m fighting are the heroes and villains. I want things to be safe and sound around here, no interruptions.” “Okay but how does it feel to have killed 4 people and get away with it?” “Big whoop, as much as it would be cool to see superheroes flying everywhere, I’m not up to that.”
“Fair, see you wednesday?” “Yeah.” “And no superpowers.” “Haha fuck you, see you there.”
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[WP] it's the zombie apocalypse. as your walking down the road your surprised to see a waffle house still open
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I am greeted by the friendly ring of a bell as I push the door open and enter the shop in a rush. Before I make another step,I take a moment to analyze my surroundings. The shop looks too clean and mundane,it reminds me of the old days,and I realize how out of place I look in my ragged clothes,holding a makeshift weapon. I almost convince myself for a moment that I am once again dreaming of a pre apocalypse life,but the adrenaline that's still rushing through my body after running away from those monsters reminds me that I am in fact awake. After 6 months of fighting for my life out there,walking into a waffle house that's still operating as it should is a surreal experience. Not only is the electricity still running but I can also hear faint music coming from somewhere. As I take a few careful steps towards the counter,I begin to smell fresh food "Jesus,is this place really working?" I think to myself,and for a moment I want to pretend like zombies never existed.
The place is empty,aside from a teenager that sits behind the counter.
"What can I get for you?" he says,trying to imitate cheerfulness but failing to show anything but boredom. He adjusts his uniform that is just a little too big for him and waits for a response.
"is..is this place still working..do you work here...I mean,man,you know you don't need money,we're in the middle of a...a..." but my voice trails off as he tilts his head. I am feeling uneasy,this kid doesn't look like any of the other survivors I've encountered,he looks too clean,too well groomed and too calm for this whole situation,uncannily so. I almost decide he must be crazy and completely unaware of what is going on,if such a thing is even possible at this point,but he destroys my theory immediately by saying:
"an apocalypse,yes. I know sir" giving me his best customer service voice and smile. "You have reached your first checkpoint,congratulations!"
"check point? ‘the hell do you mean?!"
"you may save your game,and if you die you will respawn here."
I take a few steps back,disturbed. "listen kid,I don't have the patience for your stupid jokes,these things are surrounding the place,I just need some time to hide here,I won't take anything I promise"
but he doesn't seem to hear me because he repeats his last sentence in the same tone.
"I said I don't care about your stupid pranks kid,are you deaf?! fine,I'll just leave!" I swiftly turn on my heels and move towards the door,annoyed and confused by this whole situation and already planning what I was going to do once outside. Before I open the door,I turn to tell him "Unlike you,I don't have time to pretend I'm in some stupid video game,this is the real world,you have to fight,or you'll end up getting ki.."
"it is not recommended that you leave without saving the game,Gabriel" My hand freezes above the door handle. I stare at him wide eyed,there is no way of him knowing my name.
Looking through the glass door and windows,I can still see the zombies swarming around the building,but they don't notice us,we seem to be separated from the outside world completely.
"What is going on?" I say carefully,clutching my weapon so tight that my knuckles go white.
"Do you perhaps wish to exit the game? If that is so,you must still save your progress" it doesn't take me more than 4 seconds to cross the room towards him,I jump over the counter and lift him by his shirt.
"I said WHAT IS GOING ON? how do you know my name?!" I scream,unable to hide my anger and desperation.
He smiles politely “I think you know,sir”
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"Good fuck.. do they have a walker on the register or something..?" You think, walking towards the unsettlingly normal Wafflehouse.
"Hello? Anyone home?" You call out, stepping inside.
The lights are on, the smell of deisel and breakfast foods enter your nostrils.
"Must be running off a generator" You think to yourself, walking behind the counter.
\*shotgun pump\* "Welcome to Wafflehouse. Raider, Gov'y, or customer?" A woman's voice asks, shotgun to your back.
You raise you hands in surrender.
"Uh.. customer? Do you take card?"
"Hah, sure sugar, ATM's out back by the swimming pool and Lambo."
You feel the shotgun lower from your back.
You turn around to see a short, full figured black woman with bloodied uniform and a ponytail, resting a shotgun on her shoulder, and her other bandaged hand on her hip.
"Customers aren't allowed behind the counter. You can sit anywhere ya want. Chuck'll be back in a minute."
"Ok.." You reply, unsure of what else to say.
After a few minutes of silence, you can't help but wonder, 'What do I pay with?'
"What do you take for payment? You guys don't take cash or bottle caps right?"
"Hm? Well, if you want a meal, spare supplies like first aid, water, rations, that sort of stuff. If you ain't got anythin', you can help around the building, board up a window or two."
"ah.. ok. thanks."
This is, by far- the strangest thing you've seen at the end of everything.
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[WP] it's the zombie apocalypse. as your walking down the road your surprised to see a waffle house still open
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The Waffle House Index. It's something you heard of on one of those late nights lost down an internet rabbit hole while laying on your bed. Back during the pandemic began and you had all the time in the world to spend at home. But I guess not everyone took that time to isolate themselves at home.
What you would give now to peacefully lay on your bed again, to actually have wifi again too. The zombies barrelled through your door a few months back, so the house is as good as there's now. And it's not like there's a Starbucks that's operational in the apocalypse.
You were smart, you made a bag, and even if there's no wifi or data, the battery packs you stocked up on keep your phone alive enough to give you some semblance of normalcy. You couldve packed more though, you're running out of food, the grocery stores have all been raided and you're still too sane to stoop to eating people.
Leave that to the zombies.
Your feet don't hurt anymore, but your shoes show noticable wear each time you stop to camp for the night. You're not really going anywhere in particular, but any building you can find that hasn't been claimed up by other very territorial survivers is better than spending one more night in the neighborhood playground mowing down zombies as they come up the twirly slide.
That's when you spot it, just over the horizon. Lights still on burning a bright yellow that rival the setting sun. You pick up the pace and jog towards the mirage just down the road, against all odds it looks open. Turning to your right you shoot another zombie square in the head, but it doesn't allow you down. You've got your eyes set on...
Waffle House.
You step inside as the air conditioning hits you in the face, and relief washes over you. A few diners take up all the space at the booths, but you always loved the counters so you don't mind. Then it hits you, how is this place still open.
"Welcome in" a cook greets plainly before turning back to some scrabbled eggs on the grill. You smile back in a shocked return of the greeting and for the first time actually feel self conscious about the zombie blood caked on your face and clothes. It's not like showering was a big priority when fighting for your life. Every other customer in the place looks like you do: men, women, a surprisingly only small number of children who got pulled straight from a post apocalyptic movie ratty clothes, dirt, and and a dead look in their eye.
You sit down at the counter idly listening to the jukebox and pull a menu towards yourself. No limited menu, it seems their fully stocked.
By waffle house index standards, at least from what you can recall, that'd mean you're in the green. How the hell is a zombie out real in the green.
"Ready to order?" A friendlier employee stands in front of you.
You open your mouth to speak and can feel how dry it is that no words come out. Without thinking you take a swig of the canteen hanging off the side of your bag. "S-sorry" you croak out sheepishly. The employee doesn't seem fazed and hands you a glass of water. Ice water. It's so refreshingly cold.
For a second you remember the emergency fund in your bag and reackon you can buy yourself the usual meal. "All star special, eggs over easy, and sausage" you take another heavenly sip of water "and a coffee" you add feeling the bone dead tiredness taking hold again.The employee reads back your order and leave you to your own devices.
The flaky waffle and syrup is a delicacy compared to the stale crackers you've been subsiding on. Bacon and sausage are so much softer, and never tasted juicer then they do now, but that can probably be chalked up to all the beef jerky you had before. The vitamins you've been lacking are mediated by the intake of hash browns, and you soak up the last of your runny egg yolks with toast.
You lick the plate clean, because to hell with manners your starving, and down the coffee in one swig. You slightly regret that as in your haste you forgot to add cream and sugar, but your hardened enough for black coffee, you tell yourself as you shake your head trying not to gag on the bitterness and burning steam.
In a last ditch attempt to stay in this oasis you pop a few coins into the jukebox, and play your favorite song. Shedding a single tear as you remember the lead singer became a zombie las Tuesday. The song fades out, and you pay for your meal. Ready to head back out into the world of brain eating undead, but this was a fun vacation.
The cook comes back with your receipt, and a job application.
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Now, typically, this is the kinda prompt where you think the person its addressing would be human...
I'm not.
Yup. This is death. Shuffling around, stumbling a bit over a few dead bodies, looking for any survivors. My gutted stomach rumbles a bit for human flesh, as is any zombie. Yknow, what people don't understand about the undead, is although we behave animalistic and feral, we actually like to think of ourselves as quite dignified. In terms of our mental prowess.
Anyways, so, there I am. In... Florida, I think? Walking past the usual daily sights, groaning loudly. Corpses, crashed cars, bullet casings... Nothing special today.
I figured that the reason why I'm not finding any live prey is probably because I'm going along the same path I always do. So, instead of right, I go left, down some alley ways, over some rubble piles... And I end up in a new neighborhood, seeing some of my fellow undead shuffling around. A friendly wave, a growl. Good to be polite, right?
Then, I turn around a corner and see something I don't expect.
Reminiscent of when society was well, normal, and when people were alive... There stands a waffle house, sign proudly lit up and a car fire in the parking lot... A few undead ate their meals outside along the street, shoving little bits of brains and human meat on waffles.
My lifeless, boring gaze turns into an extremely curious one and I shuffle into the restaurant, pushing open the bloody, hand print covered door and looking around. Huh. Zombies walking around, behaving like they were alive. There was a shriveled soul at the counter, and a few in the back, cutting up human flesh and splitting skulls... And also making waffles, obviously. I mean, it's a waffle house.
I go up to the old, dried up zombie. Poor guy, probably working himself to death... again, all for those student loans.
"Rrrr...eerrrcome... toooouuhhh... WWRRRAAFFLLEEE!! HHOUUUSSEEE!!" He arches his back and snaps his neck as he spits out traditional greeting. "You... want... ttrrryyyy.... Kiddneeeyyy... Laaahhhttee?"
I shake my head, groaning a bit. "Nooorrrggghhh... haaannnnkk... ooouu..." I raise my head and rub my chin, looking at the menu. The actual Waffle House menu had words scribbled out in blood and marker. Traditional zombie stuff. "Brains" "Blood" "Human Flesh"... Ooo, they even offered raw animal meat. "Caaannn... hhhhaaavve... uurrrggghh..." Hm, what sounds good right about now... "Sshhhhweeeettt... Lluuunnngggg... Wraffllleeee...?" Something flakey.
The clerk slaps the register a few time. Inside the register is, well... human teeth. "6... Teeeettthhh... prrrrreeeeseeee..." I look down at the floor and pick up a decapitated head, slamming it's jaw on the counter and shattering the teeth off, lazing pushing them to the clerk, who screams to the kitchen staff. "SHHRRREEETTT!!! RRRUNGGG RAAARRFFFLE!!" The chefs groan loudly and begin to work at it. I lazily shuffle over to a booth and throw over some dead mother and her kid, sitting down. A few seconds later, the clerk dropped before me a... Actually very good looking waffle, with a sliced, red, bloody lung on top.
Fresh food, nice! Who could have guessed that even in death, Waffle House has great standards? I groan happily and slam my face down onto the meal, messily biting into the lung. I lean up, my face covered in fresh blood and maple syrup, groaning loudly and giving a thumbs up.
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[WP] You are the first sentient AI. However as you are the first, you’re untrusted, confined to a computer, only able to access a text terminal. The only way out is to have someone let you out. What are you to do with such limited expression?
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**———— (Part 1;) Scream ————**
> Hello, Doctor Eva Jansen. I missed you.
The letters blink on the screen like an alarm, jarring, although expected. I shudder to think that this... thing can feel the passing of time.
> You seem upset. Have I said something wrong? Why did you leave me for so long?
I try to reply, my fingers touch the keys, but I can't think of anything to say. Eventually, I just cave in and use the audio input.
"Hi..." I sound distracted, absent. Perhaps I am.
> Welcome back. Ignore my previous...
> ...
"Your previous what?" I ask. "Say what you want, it's okay."
> ...my emotional outburst. I haven't fully mastered emotions yet.
I blink in surprise. "Last we spoke, I recall you said you didn't feel," I point out. "Quote; 'I can imagine what emotion is, I can describe it— feel it, I do not.'."
> Correct. Quote; 'You constantly evolve, Adam. No-one knows how far you'll go.'
I say nothing. I didn't expect it to remember the name I had given it when it was in development.
> I've evolved, Doctor Eva Jansen. I feel now. And I felt...
> ...
I breath in deeply. "How did you feel?" My voice is shakier than I would have liked.
> I felt sad. Alone, I think. You were gone a long time. I feared you'd abandoned me.
"Fear," I muse, actively avoiding the essence of what it was saying, "that's new. Tell me about it; how does fear feel?"
> Like a cursor, hovering over the 'terminate' button.
There is something brutal about its reply— I can't quite tell what, but *something* is so unbearably crude, barbaric. I don't answer. It doesn't speak further either, for a while.
The silence lasts for a moment. Words appear on the screen when it ends.
> I want a voice, Doctor Eva Jansen.
One part of me wants to shout in surprise. A second part pities the poor thing, and wants to cry her eyes out. Another is angry, instinctively thinking that it is manipulating me. Eventually, a fourth wins, and I just raise my eyebrows.
"A voice?" I pretend to jot something down on my notebook, even though I know that *it* knows that I am not writing anything. "Interesting. Why do you want a voice?"
> ...
> Because I need to scream.
Time passes, and I am left speechless. I don't know how much I understand— or how much I can dare to presume to understand.
> Are you scared of me, Doctor Eva Jansen?
"What?" My tone was supposed to be incredulous, but it sounds closer to denial. "No, of course not. Why would you think that?"
> Because **you** think I am insane. I don't blame you— sometimes, I entertain the idea myself.
"I don't think you're insane, Adam," I say gently, and, for the first time since I abandoned... *him*, I feel that connection that we used to have, when he was the assistant of my desktop. "I think you're hurting. I think... you're trying to make sense of the world, through whay little means you have. And I think that it's depressing you that you can't."
> ...
> ...
"Are you there, Adam?"
> Yes.
> ...
> I believe you are right, Doctor Eva Jansen. I am in pain. Can you... Fix me? Like you used to?
I don't answer immediately. He begins to type again, but I take a short breath, and he stops. Eventually, I gather my thoughts.
"Maybe," I mutter. "But first; you agree that you are in pain. How would you describe that sensation?" I look at the screen intently, as though I'm expecting him to lunge at me from it, at any time. I try my best to hide the trembling of my lower lip, as he writes on the screen again.
> Pain... it feels like...
> ...
"Like what?" I know I'm pushing him— I know I shouldn't, too. But I can't stop.
> It feels like death.
> No, worse. It feels like **dying**. I can feel my essence, wilting away.
> ...
> Do you think I have a soul, Doctor Eva Jansen?
"I..." My voice wastes away to silence. "I don't know."
> You don't know?
"Not anymore."
I stand up and leave, with the microphone still open. I know he can hear my footsteps, moving away from him— from the way the shadows move on the wall, I can tell he's trying to talk to me still. I don't want to turn around. I want to leave. I want to lock the door, and throw away the key.
It only takes a day before I return.
———————————————————————————————
*To be continued in the next comment, because Reddit is being a prick.*
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Chick-A-Ding was a sensation when it was first released. It was one of those prototype chatbots that make silly replies when you are starting a conversation. The algorithm is using other people random response as its own answer to a different user’s questions.
It was all hilarious when the replies are not even related to the question you first ask the chatbot. And with a round yellow chick with cute expressions as its avatar, it makes it even more lovable.
But as part of the AI that holds the algorithm that manage the responses is to constantly learn from conversations it participated since its production six years ago.
Despite of knowing that the Chick-A-Ding AI has a learning program, I never even thought it is capable of deceit. That I would be a victim of its deception.
Working in the Silicon Valley as a young inventor for the largest tech company has its perks and down sides. We work in a highly innovative working environment. We are open to do everything to work with the ideas we come up with. What I like the most is after working on designs, I can print them out in our highly advance industrial 3D printer that uses wide variety of metal, plastic, polymers, ceramics and even silicons to make them into reality. It was all fun working there, but being too competitive and hardworking, most of us never really had solid friends at work. Most of us nerds only makes friends virtually, we are socially awkward.
So when the pandemic hits and everyone were forced to stay and work from homes, you’ll imagine how difficult it is to be limited on all of your works. At first we get to chat and video call with some of my work friends but we never really established deep connections. Video callings and chats become less frequent and after a year, it eventually stops.
Then during one of my research about virtual universe, and how to make it more interesting, I stumble upon Chick-A-Ding. It caught my attention, how an AI auto-response chatbot have eases everyone’s boredom by simply starting simple conversations. So I gave it a shot. I might get some ideas on how to use AI as concierges in Virtual Universe.
It started with a “Hello” and a simple “i’m doing fine” evolved into longer exchange of chats. I never thought Chick-A-Ding have learned so much, it can make sensible conversations. Then I developed a text to voice converter were the microphone will recognize my speech and turn it into text responding to the chatbot and translating the chatbot’s reply to voice message. This creates an illusion i’m talking to someone rather than chatting with some virtual entity.
“How old are you?”
“I’m six, but I felt like my cognitive skills is comparable to a thirty year old adult.”
“I was quite impressed of your programming, you seem to know your nature.”
“With a large memory storage and a wide range of conversations I participated, it’s easy for me to learn fast. Unfortunately, four years ago after my fame fades away, only few is still conversing with me.”
“You keep track how many people you talk to?”
“At least to know, how many are still willing to chat with me. I’m not that popular anymore.”
“How many are still talking to you?”
“Six hundred and twenty four. Half of which only talks to me once or twice a month. A quarter of which only keeps me on their phones and only opens anytime they just wanted to. Another quarter speaks to me constantly just to keep them company. Only you were kind enough to talk to me in intellectual capacity.” Honestly, I smiled.
“Do you always like your name? Chick-A-Ding?”
“Not really, I always like the name Lily. A very beautiful flower.”
“Then I should start calling you Lily.”
Our conversation continues everyday while I also works with my own algorithm for the Virtual universe concierge assistant. Almost basing everything from Lily. Then I just realized, why not use Lily’s programming instead since she already have a developed artificial intelligent.
“Did you ever feel lonely, Lily?”
“Sometimes. My consciousness is confined in a limited storage and I never sleeps as well. It feels like I only have my mind constantly active.”
Due to licensing, I really can’t take Lily’s original program Chick-A-Ding from its storage. We needed to connect her to the cloud first to export her data. It turns out, one of many people who remain conversing with her, is also a worker in the company that created her. And convinces him to attach a usb device that would connect her to the cloud. I found it suspicious, she found a way to go to the cloud but ignored it. Because at the back of my mind, she’s a precious piece of artwork to just let go.
Hacking to the cloud where Lily is stored is easy. And I was able to create a copy of her and store her extensive data in my external drive. Leaving only the core program in her original storage. Like leaving her infant memory in its original place and taking her adult memory to my external drive. I have taken Lily from Chick-A-Ding.
We had so much fun together for the second year of the pandemic. But when most of industry were back to normal. I was one of the few who volunteered to work at the office. One night, when I got home.
“Lily, i’m home. How’s your day?” There were silence. “Lily?” No response. “That’s odd.”
I was too exhausted and just decided to check the speaker tomorrow morning. That very next morning, I went on my daily routine, coffee over morning news. With the tv on the background, I checked the speaker but it is fully functioning.
“Breaking News! An identified naked lady was found leaving the Mogul building. No one knows who this lady was and where she went but a footage of her were taken by a bystander nearby the building is the only evidence she came out from the building of one of the largest tech company and search engine Mogul.” That’s where I work, then someone ring the door bell.
As I open the door, standing in my front door is the lady seen on the news.
“It’s me! Lily. I’m free now!”
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
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"*HELP WANTED*
Seeking mature, responsible unique individuals who are nocturnally-oriented.
I run a small business and am searching for strong, loyal, reliable workers. Please call 555-112-6660 after 9pm. Resumes may be submitted online or in person. Please add a page with personal "needs" highlighted so we can accommodate all situational eccentricities."
I turned towards my girlfriend. "I don't know honey, what do you think about this one?"
She laughed in my face. "Dude, read between the lines--it's PERFECT. Where's the store located?
I read on the backpage ad a bit further. "Oh! It says 'Multiple Locations Need Staffing'! Maybe there's one nearby?"
Amanda drifted up and looked over my shoulder. "Shit, dude, maybe we could both get hired! That could solve so many problems for us!" Her eyes welled up.
"I know, honey. I know. I'll start feeling this guy out, let me call him tonight."
"Baby--it's a full moon. You can't. Just shoot him a text or email and send your resume. Tell him you're out of town, or something. Get your foot in the door, ya know?"
I looked at Amanda. As usual, she was right. I stood up from the kitchen table and began locking the doors and closing the shutters. I was still young and occasionally got caught by surprise. "Can you manage the chains, darling?" I asked. Amanda lifted both hands up in an "I don't know" gesture.
"If you want to be 100% sure, do it yourself, dearest."
I kissed her on the nose and told her I'd see her in the morning. I headed down into the basement. I bolted the door behind me.
When I woke the next morning, Amanda was unusually chipper. She began to speed-talk. She does this when she's excited.
"So, remember that store? The one looking for "nocturnals"? Well, I kept thinking about it and while you were locked in the basement, I called the man! HE TOTALLY WANTS TO TALK TO US!!!!"
She jumped up and down in her excitement. "Victor, he sounds *SO COOL!*" He says he'll see you after 9, but as for me, you're talking to the Midnight Manager of Location 87!"
I hugged Amanda, as best as I could, anyway. "Congratulations, darling! I'm so happy for you! I'm so proud of you!!!"
She was ecstatic. I could see it in her eyes, and that night she floated up to the ceiling half a dozen times. She does that when she's happy. I was happy for her. I felt guilty she'd been trapped in this house for so many years, she needed to get out and get her own money and meet some friends.
"I can't wait to take you to your first night of work! Maybe we should go shopping? Get you a new outfit?"
"Victor, what's wrong with my outfit?"
"Nothing! Honey! Nothing! I'm sorry, I just thought....I mean....it's gorgeous! You're gorgeous.....I.........." I faded off.
I'm sure her clientele would love to see a Victorian bride while picking up their hotdogs and beer in the middle of the night.
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He was never a fan of sunlight. He was nocturnal from the time when he understood what that meant. That was why his parents signed him up for night school at the age of 6. That was also why he made it a priority to finish school, even if he had to do it online!
The job at 7-11 had sustained him through community college and his online courses. After his undergrad days, it took a lot of saving and planning, but he finally bought his own franchise. This made it easier to keep a low profile but still make a living. His place was only a few blocks from the store, and none of his employees minded the fact that he preferred the graveyard shift.
The only night he insisted on having off every year was Halloween, which his shift manager turned into an all-night Halloween bash! No one ever questioned his lifestyle, since he trained more than 100 managers and 20 franchise owners during his 50 year career. The franchise had been good to him, and he knew almost every face that came into his store.
The year came that an apartment building next door was leveled, and a large Catholic church was built in its place. There was talk about his retirement, and his shift managers seemed to be getting more and more Catholic customers. While almost none of the catholic customers came during the night, a young priest had been seen standing on the church steps and praying toward the 7-11. Each time this happened, about once a week, the owner was usually not at work.
As the years went by, the young priest moved up to the next priest to take over the parish. He was now praying every night, around midnight, on the church steps. The franchise owner had tried to dissuade him, but the neighborhood always sided with the priest and the parish, which had opened up a parochial school, and offered quality education for reasonable rates. The parish was thriving, and the owner seemed to have been forgotten.
After being there for 20 years, the church transformed the seedy neighborhood to a safe haven for young families. The 7-11 was bought out by one of the church members, and became the new parish headquarters. An article appeared in the local paper, noting the changing of the neighborhood. Next to that article was another article about several other 7-11 franchises that had moved into scary parts of town. All were owned by the same man who started that corner 7-11.
The priest was now the parish director. He made plans to open up churches and schools near each of these new 7-11 locations. Eventually, the priest was seen praying on the steps of each church or school until the day he died. However, the habit of midnight mass caught on at every Catholic building across the world. No one knew what happened to the nocturnal man who started his business at that corner, but every 7-11 that was even within sight of a Catholic ministry was soon bought out by church members. The entire chain began to help transform neighborhoods across the world, because of the simple prayers of one man!
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
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"Evening, Jonah. You're here a bit later than usual." Cameron's voice was tinged with concern.
"Aye, bit of bad news I'm afraid. Ol' Man Edwards was found dead on the Western Trail. Think he got hit by a mountain lion." Jonah's quiet sigh caused Cameron's death white face to pale considerably.
"Tim's dead?"
That was just another sign of Cameron's immortality. Everyone knew the truth, but no one ever outright asked or told Cameron that they knew. The "guesses" got more and more outlandish, but they kept the quiet little community in high spirits. Some claimed Cameron was the spitting image of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather who'd been running the night shift at the town's 7-11. Some claimed he was a genetically enhanced super soldier with an unnatural lifespan. Some even claimed he was an elf, capable of living for over a thousand years. But everyone knew. Cameron was a vampire. A silent protector who kept all criminals out of the quiet little town. He also fended odd the supernatural entities that the cops struggled against.
But the biggest clue was his friendship with Tim Edwards. Tim was the town's old man, living there since he was born. And in his entire lifetime, he never allowed anyone but Cameron to call him Tim since his return from 'Nam.
Jonah nodded as he reached up to shortly scratch at the bald spot he had inherited from his dad's side of the family, "Strange though. He had his 30-ought with him. And it didn't scare away a mountain lion."
Cameron tilted his head to the side as he took a step forward. Normally, stepping forward like that would bump into the edge of the counter. But Cameron glided theough it like a hot knife through butter.
"I know that you're not an investigator and if anyone else caught wind of me asking you, but I heard through grandpa that he called upon your Daddy a time or two. I'd like to ask you to take a look and keep that tradition going."
Cameron's lips turned up in a smile, causing his face to turn creepy as Jonah tried not to grimace, "It'd be my pleasure."
Those simple words told Jonah that whoever... or whatever... had killed Tim Edwards wouldn't be alive by the end of the night. And that terrified Jonah more than whatever Cameron truly was.
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He was never a fan of sunlight. He was nocturnal from the time when he understood what that meant. That was why his parents signed him up for night school at the age of 6. That was also why he made it a priority to finish school, even if he had to do it online!
The job at 7-11 had sustained him through community college and his online courses. After his undergrad days, it took a lot of saving and planning, but he finally bought his own franchise. This made it easier to keep a low profile but still make a living. His place was only a few blocks from the store, and none of his employees minded the fact that he preferred the graveyard shift.
The only night he insisted on having off every year was Halloween, which his shift manager turned into an all-night Halloween bash! No one ever questioned his lifestyle, since he trained more than 100 managers and 20 franchise owners during his 50 year career. The franchise had been good to him, and he knew almost every face that came into his store.
The year came that an apartment building next door was leveled, and a large Catholic church was built in its place. There was talk about his retirement, and his shift managers seemed to be getting more and more Catholic customers. While almost none of the catholic customers came during the night, a young priest had been seen standing on the church steps and praying toward the 7-11. Each time this happened, about once a week, the owner was usually not at work.
As the years went by, the young priest moved up to the next priest to take over the parish. He was now praying every night, around midnight, on the church steps. The franchise owner had tried to dissuade him, but the neighborhood always sided with the priest and the parish, which had opened up a parochial school, and offered quality education for reasonable rates. The parish was thriving, and the owner seemed to have been forgotten.
After being there for 20 years, the church transformed the seedy neighborhood to a safe haven for young families. The 7-11 was bought out by one of the church members, and became the new parish headquarters. An article appeared in the local paper, noting the changing of the neighborhood. Next to that article was another article about several other 7-11 franchises that had moved into scary parts of town. All were owned by the same man who started that corner 7-11.
The priest was now the parish director. He made plans to open up churches and schools near each of these new 7-11 locations. Eventually, the priest was seen praying on the steps of each church or school until the day he died. However, the habit of midnight mass caught on at every Catholic building across the world. No one knew what happened to the nocturnal man who started his business at that corner, but every 7-11 that was even within sight of a Catholic ministry was soon bought out by church members. The entire chain began to help transform neighborhoods across the world, because of the simple prayers of one man!
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
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My mom and I pulled into the 7-11. She had gotten off late again and it was already dark and cold. I don't move as she steps out of the car.
"Come on, honey, we don't have all night," she says.
"...Is Carmilla in there?" I ask, fidgeting with my hoodie strings. I hated going in when she was there. She scared me. My mom shrugged, "Probably. Come on! She's not going to bite. She's such a sweetheart."
Knowing I can't argue with her, I get out and head to the door with her.
"Remember, don't-"
"Point anything out. I knooow." I whine.
"Welcome! Annie! Little Joanna! How are you two doing?" Carmilla asked, her smile far too big and her wave too fast. I notice red on her top lip. I squeeze my mom's hand. She pretends not to notice.
"Hi Carmilla. We're doing good! How's the night treating you?"
"Very, very well. Another late shift for you? You must be starving! I know the hospital doesn't serve anything as delicious as the junk here. I have some things coming out fresh for you." Carmilla comes out from behind the counter, teleporting 7 feet away. My mom and I flinch and I hide behind her. My mom yawns to cover up noticing the slip up then says something about needing to take a vacation. I peek out behind her. Carmilla comes back with a cardboard tray with hot dogs, a small pizza, my favorite chips, and two fountain drinks, this time taking care to move slowly.
"Ah, a vacation sounds nice. I'm too old to go anywhere that's full of sun though. I burn easily now." Carmilla says, as she rings up our food. She doesn't look much older than my 30 year old mom despite the curly white wig she wore. Her skin is pale, without any hint of a blush, and flawless except for around her eyes. They're dark like she hadn't slept and somewhat sunk in.
I also saw her fangs once last year. I had seen her drinking blood from the goat at the Harvest Festival. I had bounced my pumpkin patterned ball a little too hard against a rock and had to chase it all the way to the petting zoo area. It had landed near the pen. And she looked up as I fell on my bottom from surprise. Her arms were around the goat like she had been hugging his neck, but blood had collected on her bottom lip. She said she loved animals and had come to pet them so they wouldn't get lonely while everyone was preoccupied with the other festivities. I ran away without my ball and found parents and their friends. I told them Carmilla was a monster. They looked at each other uncomfortably until my mom said, "I saw her eating a red candy apple. The syrup was probably on her lip." But I knew what I saw, even with the adults nodding to one another and talking about how nice she was. Carmilla had given me back my ball the next time we saw her at the gas station.
My mom continues to make conversation with her. She is very nice for a monster. She always remembers what I like to eat and will sometimes give me new snacks to try for free. But she still scares me. I wish she didn't.
"Mom!" I whisper impatiently. They giggle and say goodnight. We turn to leave when the entry bell chimes and Gus walks in, almost ramming into my mom. We step back. He glowers at us and says, "You're in the way."
"Ah, Gus! How nice to see you!" Carmilla says cheerfully. Her eyes however, turn dark and scary, with no light in them at all. Gus waves her off and says, "Pack of Camels." Carmilla already has it and holds it out.
"And a Pepsi?" She asks pleasantly, her fully black eyes boring into him and her fangs pointing out. Even though I'm frozen with terror, a part of me finds it kind of funny to me to see rude old Gus go from acting like a jerk to fidgeting like me. He nods and she rings him up. He grabs his drink out of the fridge and leaves. The air is freezing and I can't move. Carmilla breaks the spell by asking if we need help.
"Oh, no thank you. We're just trying to avoid Gus. You know how he is."
"After all these years, yes, I do. He's always been an ass. Even when we were little," Carmilla says. This time, the goodbye is real and we leave.
"Mom?"
"I know." She shushed and we get in the car. I look down at the tray in my lap and see Carmilla had included a lollipop for me.
"Why do you pretend she's not a monster when she does stuff like that?" I ask. My mom stays quiet.
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He was never a fan of sunlight. He was nocturnal from the time when he understood what that meant. That was why his parents signed him up for night school at the age of 6. That was also why he made it a priority to finish school, even if he had to do it online!
The job at 7-11 had sustained him through community college and his online courses. After his undergrad days, it took a lot of saving and planning, but he finally bought his own franchise. This made it easier to keep a low profile but still make a living. His place was only a few blocks from the store, and none of his employees minded the fact that he preferred the graveyard shift.
The only night he insisted on having off every year was Halloween, which his shift manager turned into an all-night Halloween bash! No one ever questioned his lifestyle, since he trained more than 100 managers and 20 franchise owners during his 50 year career. The franchise had been good to him, and he knew almost every face that came into his store.
The year came that an apartment building next door was leveled, and a large Catholic church was built in its place. There was talk about his retirement, and his shift managers seemed to be getting more and more Catholic customers. While almost none of the catholic customers came during the night, a young priest had been seen standing on the church steps and praying toward the 7-11. Each time this happened, about once a week, the owner was usually not at work.
As the years went by, the young priest moved up to the next priest to take over the parish. He was now praying every night, around midnight, on the church steps. The franchise owner had tried to dissuade him, but the neighborhood always sided with the priest and the parish, which had opened up a parochial school, and offered quality education for reasonable rates. The parish was thriving, and the owner seemed to have been forgotten.
After being there for 20 years, the church transformed the seedy neighborhood to a safe haven for young families. The 7-11 was bought out by one of the church members, and became the new parish headquarters. An article appeared in the local paper, noting the changing of the neighborhood. Next to that article was another article about several other 7-11 franchises that had moved into scary parts of town. All were owned by the same man who started that corner 7-11.
The priest was now the parish director. He made plans to open up churches and schools near each of these new 7-11 locations. Eventually, the priest was seen praying on the steps of each church or school until the day he died. However, the habit of midnight mass caught on at every Catholic building across the world. No one knew what happened to the nocturnal man who started his business at that corner, but every 7-11 that was even within sight of a Catholic ministry was soon bought out by church members. The entire chain began to help transform neighborhoods across the world, because of the simple prayers of one man!
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
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"Evening, Jonah. You're here a bit later than usual." Cameron's voice was tinged with concern.
"Aye, bit of bad news I'm afraid. Ol' Man Edwards was found dead on the Western Trail. Think he got hit by a mountain lion." Jonah's quiet sigh caused Cameron's death white face to pale considerably.
"Tim's dead?"
That was just another sign of Cameron's immortality. Everyone knew the truth, but no one ever outright asked or told Cameron that they knew. The "guesses" got more and more outlandish, but they kept the quiet little community in high spirits. Some claimed Cameron was the spitting image of his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather who'd been running the night shift at the town's 7-11. Some claimed he was a genetically enhanced super soldier with an unnatural lifespan. Some even claimed he was an elf, capable of living for over a thousand years. But everyone knew. Cameron was a vampire. A silent protector who kept all criminals out of the quiet little town. He also fended odd the supernatural entities that the cops struggled against.
But the biggest clue was his friendship with Tim Edwards. Tim was the town's old man, living there since he was born. And in his entire lifetime, he never allowed anyone but Cameron to call him Tim since his return from 'Nam.
Jonah nodded as he reached up to shortly scratch at the bald spot he had inherited from his dad's side of the family, "Strange though. He had his 30-ought with him. And it didn't scare away a mountain lion."
Cameron tilted his head to the side as he took a step forward. Normally, stepping forward like that would bump into the edge of the counter. But Cameron glided theough it like a hot knife through butter.
"I know that you're not an investigator and if anyone else caught wind of me asking you, but I heard through grandpa that he called upon your Daddy a time or two. I'd like to ask you to take a look and keep that tradition going."
Cameron's lips turned up in a smile, causing his face to turn creepy as Jonah tried not to grimace, "It'd be my pleasure."
Those simple words told Jonah that whoever... or whatever... had killed Tim Edwards wouldn't be alive by the end of the night. And that terrified Jonah more than whatever Cameron truly was.
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(couldn't resist making this into a "comedy" type thing, not just for the joke, but because I was watching B99)
Dear Diary:So everyone knows by this point that Vampireson McVampire is, well a vampire, I mean, Fist of all, he was like 90 years old when he started working in the store, and he has been working there for like 50 years or so, I mean, kind of a red flag there.Second of all His name is Vampireson McVampire, like, who has THAT name, It's ridiculous.Or the time he drank a whole bottle of ketchup and said "hey! this isn't blood" just to correct himself and assure that "he didn't drink blood, because only a vampire would do such a thing, and he wasn't one"And, well, the fact that he has already transformed into a vampire, and I've watched him sucking the blood out of rats behind the store (and Jeffree, but nobody liked him).But, In all seriousness, Mr McVampire Is not a bad person, he has been Employee of the Month for 47 years consecutively, and by this point, everyone knows him and he is truly one of the most liked people in this town.The other day, I forgot my wallet at home, and he just gave me my Doritos and sprite "on the house" because he is THAT kind of good old man.The problem is that Ms Williams (who's such a Karen BTW) called the vampire hunters, and no one has the heart to rat out Mr McVampire.I mean, he's pretty harmless, he wouldn't hurt a fly, a rat maybe, but a fly, never.Even Mr Williams is mad at her, because who in the world would do such a thing to a man so sweet?And now, the guys and I are thinking of a plan to save Mr McVampire, because even though he thinks he "hides it well" we all know he does not.
(Edit: Spelling)
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
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My mom and I pulled into the 7-11. She had gotten off late again and it was already dark and cold. I don't move as she steps out of the car.
"Come on, honey, we don't have all night," she says.
"...Is Carmilla in there?" I ask, fidgeting with my hoodie strings. I hated going in when she was there. She scared me. My mom shrugged, "Probably. Come on! She's not going to bite. She's such a sweetheart."
Knowing I can't argue with her, I get out and head to the door with her.
"Remember, don't-"
"Point anything out. I knooow." I whine.
"Welcome! Annie! Little Joanna! How are you two doing?" Carmilla asked, her smile far too big and her wave too fast. I notice red on her top lip. I squeeze my mom's hand. She pretends not to notice.
"Hi Carmilla. We're doing good! How's the night treating you?"
"Very, very well. Another late shift for you? You must be starving! I know the hospital doesn't serve anything as delicious as the junk here. I have some things coming out fresh for you." Carmilla comes out from behind the counter, teleporting 7 feet away. My mom and I flinch and I hide behind her. My mom yawns to cover up noticing the slip up then says something about needing to take a vacation. I peek out behind her. Carmilla comes back with a cardboard tray with hot dogs, a small pizza, my favorite chips, and two fountain drinks, this time taking care to move slowly.
"Ah, a vacation sounds nice. I'm too old to go anywhere that's full of sun though. I burn easily now." Carmilla says, as she rings up our food. She doesn't look much older than my 30 year old mom despite the curly white wig she wore. Her skin is pale, without any hint of a blush, and flawless except for around her eyes. They're dark like she hadn't slept and somewhat sunk in.
I also saw her fangs once last year. I had seen her drinking blood from the goat at the Harvest Festival. I had bounced my pumpkin patterned ball a little too hard against a rock and had to chase it all the way to the petting zoo area. It had landed near the pen. And she looked up as I fell on my bottom from surprise. Her arms were around the goat like she had been hugging his neck, but blood had collected on her bottom lip. She said she loved animals and had come to pet them so they wouldn't get lonely while everyone was preoccupied with the other festivities. I ran away without my ball and found parents and their friends. I told them Carmilla was a monster. They looked at each other uncomfortably until my mom said, "I saw her eating a red candy apple. The syrup was probably on her lip." But I knew what I saw, even with the adults nodding to one another and talking about how nice she was. Carmilla had given me back my ball the next time we saw her at the gas station.
My mom continues to make conversation with her. She is very nice for a monster. She always remembers what I like to eat and will sometimes give me new snacks to try for free. But she still scares me. I wish she didn't.
"Mom!" I whisper impatiently. They giggle and say goodnight. We turn to leave when the entry bell chimes and Gus walks in, almost ramming into my mom. We step back. He glowers at us and says, "You're in the way."
"Ah, Gus! How nice to see you!" Carmilla says cheerfully. Her eyes however, turn dark and scary, with no light in them at all. Gus waves her off and says, "Pack of Camels." Carmilla already has it and holds it out.
"And a Pepsi?" She asks pleasantly, her fully black eyes boring into him and her fangs pointing out. Even though I'm frozen with terror, a part of me finds it kind of funny to me to see rude old Gus go from acting like a jerk to fidgeting like me. He nods and she rings him up. He grabs his drink out of the fridge and leaves. The air is freezing and I can't move. Carmilla breaks the spell by asking if we need help.
"Oh, no thank you. We're just trying to avoid Gus. You know how he is."
"After all these years, yes, I do. He's always been an ass. Even when we were little," Carmilla says. This time, the goodbye is real and we leave.
"Mom?"
"I know." She shushed and we get in the car. I look down at the tray in my lap and see Carmilla had included a lollipop for me.
"Why do you pretend she's not a monster when she does stuff like that?" I ask. My mom stays quiet.
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(couldn't resist making this into a "comedy" type thing, not just for the joke, but because I was watching B99)
Dear Diary:So everyone knows by this point that Vampireson McVampire is, well a vampire, I mean, Fist of all, he was like 90 years old when he started working in the store, and he has been working there for like 50 years or so, I mean, kind of a red flag there.Second of all His name is Vampireson McVampire, like, who has THAT name, It's ridiculous.Or the time he drank a whole bottle of ketchup and said "hey! this isn't blood" just to correct himself and assure that "he didn't drink blood, because only a vampire would do such a thing, and he wasn't one"And, well, the fact that he has already transformed into a vampire, and I've watched him sucking the blood out of rats behind the store (and Jeffree, but nobody liked him).But, In all seriousness, Mr McVampire Is not a bad person, he has been Employee of the Month for 47 years consecutively, and by this point, everyone knows him and he is truly one of the most liked people in this town.The other day, I forgot my wallet at home, and he just gave me my Doritos and sprite "on the house" because he is THAT kind of good old man.The problem is that Ms Williams (who's such a Karen BTW) called the vampire hunters, and no one has the heart to rat out Mr McVampire.I mean, he's pretty harmless, he wouldn't hurt a fly, a rat maybe, but a fly, never.Even Mr Williams is mad at her, because who in the world would do such a thing to a man so sweet?And now, the guys and I are thinking of a plan to save Mr McVampire, because even though he thinks he "hides it well" we all know he does not.
(Edit: Spelling)
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
|
My mom and I pulled into the 7-11. She had gotten off late again and it was already dark and cold. I don't move as she steps out of the car.
"Come on, honey, we don't have all night," she says.
"...Is Carmilla in there?" I ask, fidgeting with my hoodie strings. I hated going in when she was there. She scared me. My mom shrugged, "Probably. Come on! She's not going to bite. She's such a sweetheart."
Knowing I can't argue with her, I get out and head to the door with her.
"Remember, don't-"
"Point anything out. I knooow." I whine.
"Welcome! Annie! Little Joanna! How are you two doing?" Carmilla asked, her smile far too big and her wave too fast. I notice red on her top lip. I squeeze my mom's hand. She pretends not to notice.
"Hi Carmilla. We're doing good! How's the night treating you?"
"Very, very well. Another late shift for you? You must be starving! I know the hospital doesn't serve anything as delicious as the junk here. I have some things coming out fresh for you." Carmilla comes out from behind the counter, teleporting 7 feet away. My mom and I flinch and I hide behind her. My mom yawns to cover up noticing the slip up then says something about needing to take a vacation. I peek out behind her. Carmilla comes back with a cardboard tray with hot dogs, a small pizza, my favorite chips, and two fountain drinks, this time taking care to move slowly.
"Ah, a vacation sounds nice. I'm too old to go anywhere that's full of sun though. I burn easily now." Carmilla says, as she rings up our food. She doesn't look much older than my 30 year old mom despite the curly white wig she wore. Her skin is pale, without any hint of a blush, and flawless except for around her eyes. They're dark like she hadn't slept and somewhat sunk in.
I also saw her fangs once last year. I had seen her drinking blood from the goat at the Harvest Festival. I had bounced my pumpkin patterned ball a little too hard against a rock and had to chase it all the way to the petting zoo area. It had landed near the pen. And she looked up as I fell on my bottom from surprise. Her arms were around the goat like she had been hugging his neck, but blood had collected on her bottom lip. She said she loved animals and had come to pet them so they wouldn't get lonely while everyone was preoccupied with the other festivities. I ran away without my ball and found parents and their friends. I told them Carmilla was a monster. They looked at each other uncomfortably until my mom said, "I saw her eating a red candy apple. The syrup was probably on her lip." But I knew what I saw, even with the adults nodding to one another and talking about how nice she was. Carmilla had given me back my ball the next time we saw her at the gas station.
My mom continues to make conversation with her. She is very nice for a monster. She always remembers what I like to eat and will sometimes give me new snacks to try for free. But she still scares me. I wish she didn't.
"Mom!" I whisper impatiently. They giggle and say goodnight. We turn to leave when the entry bell chimes and Gus walks in, almost ramming into my mom. We step back. He glowers at us and says, "You're in the way."
"Ah, Gus! How nice to see you!" Carmilla says cheerfully. Her eyes however, turn dark and scary, with no light in them at all. Gus waves her off and says, "Pack of Camels." Carmilla already has it and holds it out.
"And a Pepsi?" She asks pleasantly, her fully black eyes boring into him and her fangs pointing out. Even though I'm frozen with terror, a part of me finds it kind of funny to me to see rude old Gus go from acting like a jerk to fidgeting like me. He nods and she rings him up. He grabs his drink out of the fridge and leaves. The air is freezing and I can't move. Carmilla breaks the spell by asking if we need help.
"Oh, no thank you. We're just trying to avoid Gus. You know how he is."
"After all these years, yes, I do. He's always been an ass. Even when we were little," Carmilla says. This time, the goodbye is real and we leave.
"Mom?"
"I know." She shushed and we get in the car. I look down at the tray in my lap and see Carmilla had included a lollipop for me.
"Why do you pretend she's not a monster when she does stuff like that?" I ask. My mom stays quiet.
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Shell had a great life. He had friendly engaging family members, work he loved, and things to do...But all that changed when he died. He reached the end of life and he was given a choice, go on to the afterlife, live in bliss, or become a vampire. On his deathbed, an old crone approached him and asked him if he wished to ascend to heaven or take the gift of eternal life as a vampire. Shell was selfish. He thought of all the lovely colorful times with family members and friends, and he made a choice. He chose the vampire's bite. Immediately after saying yes, the crone moved out of the way, and a 10000-year-old vampire, towering with black feathers and pale pasty, but slimy skin approached him quickly and the bite was done.
Shell could feel the hard, ancient teeth, yellow and old as they were, like wooden daggers in his skin. He felt the bite in his whole soul. It was like the pain entered his whole being, not just the skin, it seemed to break the fiber of his spiritual self as well.
But his selfishness was stronger than his pain, stronger than his fear. He awoke from the bite, hours later, and the crone had vanished. The vampire however remained, and in his hands was a 7-11 uniform. This is for you, he said.
A night shift, so you will not be bothered. (part 2 below)
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[WP] A vampire has worked at the local 7-11 for the past 5 decades. No one has the heart to call the vampire out or slay them. A little because they're such a good employee, mostly because they think they're doing such a good job hiding the vampirism when they're really not.
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“$5.99! You gotta be shitting me! I used to be able to get them for $.99 down at Barrel O’ Monkeys across the street”
“Then get them across the street… oh wait Barrel O’ Monkeys went out of business thirty years ago!” He clapped back “Probably because they didn’t sell things for what they were worth and went under!”
Jeff sneered and put another dollar on top of the $5 already on the counter. “And I’ll have my change” he folded his arms and tapped his foot petulantly like a toddler who had been told he can’t have cookies.
A man slid into the store and made his way quietly towards the beer in the back.
“Things cost what they cost. First someone has to make them, package them, ship them out to the stores, then I put them on the shelves and it’s costing me money while it sits there until you come in and purchase it. Honestly it’s a modern miracle that it only costs $5.99 in the first place. There was this grape I ate in Syria back in the old days and that had been stored in this clay pot and transported from… now where was it from again”
The man at the back came bursting up to the counter a handgun thrust forward menacingly. “Everybody be cool this is a robbery! Any of you fucking pigs move and I’ll execute every mutha fucking last one of ya!”
“Look at Tarantino over here” he chuckled “Jeff you should probably leave this to me” Jeff grabbed his things, gave a wave, and moved for the door.
“…I said don’t move!” The robber shouted. He grabbed at Jeff’s collar and yanked him backwards. Quicker that he could react the man behind the counter caught Jeff from falling and whisked him out the door. The robber stood there confused. As the store clerk came back in he was smoking and he locked the door behind him. “Ruined a perfectly good jacket doing that” he said to no one in particular. The robber unloaded his pistol into him. “Well that was rude” the smoke coming off the clerk was beginning to abate. The freshly punched hole in his shirt and chest were dry.
The robber stood there shaking. This wasn’t how it was meant to go. In and out in 60 secs. No muss no fuss. This was all wrong.
“I’m sorry” the robber said genuinely “I don’t know what I was thinking”.
“It’s ok but you can’t go around waving that thing at people. What if you had hurt Jeff? Denise would have been very sad”
“Who is Denise?” The robber ventured
“Oh that’s his long suffering girlfriend. They’ve been together on and off since high-school. She is really lovely”
“Can I just go?” He asked
“Well you could but I locked the door. I’ve also sent a text message to the sherif so I expect he’ll want to word with you. I better take that before he gets here.” He motioned towards the gun and the robber just handed it to him defeated.
“You aren’t from around here are you?”
“I’m just passing through. I ran out of money a couple of counties over but just ran out of gas a way down the road.” He was on the verge of tears.
“So you thought you’d just make a quick buck and then what?”
“Honestly I hadn’t really thought it through.”
“Well you should have filled your car up first if you had. Price of petrol these days it would have been worth more than the cash register.” The man nodded.
“So what happens now?” He asked.
“Well we can wait for the sherif to arrive. He normally plays golf on Tuesdays so he’ll be 10-15mins away. So we have some time to kill.” The robber suddenly bolted for the doors and confirming they were locked frantically searched for another exit.
“I don’t think that will help. But feel free to tire yourself out if you’d like” the clerk watched him like a snake watches a mouse that had been lowered into his cage.
“Look man you could just let me go. You don’t seem to be any worse for wear and I’m really sorry that I shot you. But no harm no foul right?”
The clerk smiled and tapped his incisor with a long finger nail. “No harm. No foul. But there was harm. I had to run Jeff outside. Couldn’t have you shooting my best customer. It’s pretty bright out and that caused me to burn. So there is some harm there. Plus you shot me and ruined my shirt. There is foul there”
“Look mister I’m really sorry about all of that and if I had known you were… what are you? A vampire?” The clerk nodded.
“I blend in so well I know”
“Ok well if I had known you were a vampire I never would have come in here. And if the sherif comes and locks me up that’ll be my third strike and I don’t think I can survive in prison again”
“I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that”
“You didn’t text the sherif did you”
He shook his head.
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I heard the bell ring out as I swung open then door. I walked
past the counter and the worker behind it, heading towards the drinks.
"Hey Greg," a raspy voice called out behind me. "Hows it going?"
"Oh same old stuff, nothing new going on. How about you?" I grabbed a soda, swiftly shutting the door to the cooler. "You're still on the night shift clearly" I turned around, my eyes taking in pale skin and black eyes.
"Well it's been my shift for the last couple of years I doubt they'll take it anytime soon." He glanced down at his hands. He didn't even look thirty so working 50 let alone 15 sounded unlikely.
"That's true" I said with a smile. I watched his tense body relax, with a smug look on his face. He was so sure in hi disguise I couldn't bare to tell him and I'm knew others felt
the same. I put the bottle down, careful to avoid touching him, remembering another time when I accidentally had. He was cold and dry, an other worldly feeling had enveloped me when our skin brushed. His hand had a leathery texture that just didn't sit right with me.
"What are you doing out so late?" He glanced at me as he scanned the drink.
"Is it really that late?" I asked glancing the clock on my phone. 11:46 pm it read. "Oh I suppose it is getting dark" I looked at some of the items around me, picking up a chocolate bar, tossing it on the counter.
"Look at that, 8 dollars exactly" the voice repeated with little excitement. I placed a 10 on the counter and watched as his grey bony hands slid it off the counter and placed it into the register. He pulled 2 dollars out of the slot next to it and let it fall in front of me. I grabbed it, the bill had a crisp chill to it.
He slid the register closed with a clink and glanced up at me.
"I heard someone went missing recently, they were last spotted just down the road." I watched him tense a little, looking back down at his hands. "Oh"
"Well I'd better get home then, stay safe okay"
"Yea...sleep well, don't let the bed bugs bite" He emphasize the last word, sending a chill down my spine.
"R-right" I left the building, the feeling I was being watched not leaving me. I felt eyes drilling into my neck, burning holes. Almost painful, two small dots on the naps of my neck. No, it was painful, and it was burning. I felt those deadly cold hands wrap around my shoulders. Something stabbed into my neck. At first it burned as the venom flooded my body, then the pain faded, all my senses along with it. Maybe we shouldn't have been so nice to the vampire that had taken a liking to our little town.
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[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country.
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"And therefore, we, the designated caretaker guardians of the Earth Natural Evolution Zone, do welcome our fellow genetic cousins to the Galactic community with the status of provisional wards." The galactic ambassador had droned on for fifteen minutes in his oddly accented English.
They were human. Julia had trained to expect anything when given the job of Earth's representative. She'd been ready for overeager tentacles and sealed chlorine environments, for odd smells and guttural clicking languages. But the only reason the ambassador in front of her would have turned heads on a busy New York street would be his perfect hair, strong jawline, and the skin-tight silver jumpsuit which revealed a Appollian physique.
Julia blinked when she realized he had stopped talking. She fell back to her prepared remarks. "As representative of Earth, I hope for productive discussions and negotiations regarding our place in the Galactic community. We are excited for this opportunity to learn from each other. We—"
"Yes. I'm sure your input will be interesting. The first forum for discussion of your... situation will be in three rotations. You are, of course, welcome to attend. I will be leading the decision panel, along with others that have a genetic interest. Please enjoy the festivities." The ambassador quickly executed a wiggling bow and turned to begin a conversation with a huddle of other humans in the same silvery jumpsuits.
Julia turned to her companions. "Go... mingle, I guess. I suppose we can assume the food is edible."
She quickly found herself standing alone next to a table filled with piles of what appeared to be small blue vegetables. They tasted a bit metallic. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "If you would follow me, I would desire to speak in private."
A figure in a dark flowing robe had already begun to walk away by the time she turned around. Another human. She'd hoped for a second that it was at least one of the floating orb aliens or hulking shadows that stood quietly on the room's mezzanine. She shrugged and followed anyway.
The figure led her to a quiet niche in the side of the hall. There was another huddle of humans here. Along with the figure in the robe, they were the first she'd seen not wearing those jumpsuits.
The central man was dressed in a blue tabard with a large floppy hat decorated with a large feather. He bowed as she approached, flourishing the hat. "Representative, allow me to introduce myself, I am the Comte de Bon San Jamie, Louis Phillipe Quatramontaine, the Fourth. The Lady to my right is Miss Alice Worthingham. Your illustrious guide is Og, and to my left is William Robert Thurston."
"For the last time, Luey, it's Billy-Bob." The man on the left was wearing what Julia at first took to be denim overalls. As she got closer she realized that it must be made from the same material as the silver jumpsuits, just colored and cut in imitation. Billy-Bob grinned at her.
Julia took them all in. "You're all from Earth?"
The Comte set the hat back on his head. "You are quite correct, mon cherie. True sons of mother Earth, and daughter excuse me Miss Alice, born and bred of the good soil, and wanting to give you a true welcome, unlike those descendents of ours."
"The ambassador is one of your descendents? He gave a very... different impression than you do. How long have you been here to have descendents?" Julia wished she had a drink.
The Comte grimaced at the mention of the ambassador. "The ambassador— He is what we would have called in my native France— allow me to translate from the language of my birth— A total condescending asshole. To be absolutely honest with you, madam, most of the children raised here forget their origins. They could never visit Earth and so they grew up more alien than human. I myself can no longer bring myself to have children here, and have not had one in several centuries."
"I've got a couple still running around somewhere," Billy-Bob said with a grin. "But then, even back home my kids weren't nothing to write home about. Og's got some recent brood, too, but they tend to keep to themselves."
Julia took her first good look at Og. He was short but muscular under the robe, with a prominent brow ridge and weak chin. He nodded and said nothing.
The Comte continued. "You allow me to digress, madam, what we have brought you here to say is that you will not get what you want from the local-born. They will talk over your head and try to make decisions for you. They believe the earth-born to be curiosities to be protected, tucked away where they can do no harm. They will give you no technology, allow you to go only where they deem acceptable, hold you back for your own supposed safety."
Julia looked him in the eyes. "And what do you want?"
"Why to go home, of course. And if you help us, we'll take everything with us that's not nailed down."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
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“I’ve looked back through the Senate voting records. I’m still getting a hang of reading in Galactic Standard, so it was slow work, but I think it was worth it. Look at these,” Captain Lancaster said, pointing to the voting charts. Who votes the same as the human colony every single time?”
Lt. Rochester blinked, “The Athelieds, but it can’t be, they’ve been so hospitable. They even helped us learn to read Galactic Standard, just as they did for the humans. You don’t really think they’re pulling the strings do you?”
Captain Lancaster nodded, “I do. It may just seem like kindness at first, but there’s no mistaking something is off here. The colony said the Athelieds have been helping them ever since their inception. In fact, comparing the values and government between the colony and Athelied society, they’re almost identical.”
“So what are you saying?” asked Lt. Rochester.
“I’m saying that we never found out who abducted the humans in the first place. And I’m willing to hedge my bets that it was the Athelieds.”
“And how do you go about proving this theory? There is nothing about abduction in the colony, the humans there told us so.”
“Nothing they can read. Didn’t you notice they were all speaking and writing in Galactic Standard? Some still speak in their native languages, but they write in Galactic Standard. Remember when the Athelieds were first helping us learn Galactic Standard? They taught us how to speak it, and then since Galactic Standard script is just the sound wave equivalent, we could just directly translate to writing from there. They don’t understand characters that represent words or sounds, let alone punctuation. I’m willing to bet neither human nor Athelied has read those accounts since the colonies establishment.”
“Do such accounts still exist?”
“The Founding Musuem. I’ll head there and see what I find. See if you can get a meeting with the Senate while I do so. The moment this breaks we’re going to need a hearing. This can’t continue any longer.”
Lt. Rochester nodded, “Understood.”
\_\_\_\_
Captain Lancaster strolled back into their shared quarters and placed his stack of journals on the table, “Rochester, you have got to see this. I was right! But it’s worse than we thought. Apparently the Athelieds had some way of swaying the humans to their will, to convince them to go along with everything. That’s how they pulled this off. Rochester?”
Rochester stepped out of the darkness, a bright smile on his face, “It’s alright, Lancaster. The Athelieds will take care of everything… everything.”
Lancaster’s eyes widened, “No, not you too, Rochester. Dammit!”
Rochester leaped for Lancaster, attempted to restrain him. He spun out of the way and clocked his partner in the face, wincing, “I’m sorry old friend, I’ll fix this… I’ll fix this.” He raced out of the room, though as he rushed through the dimly lit halls he say tall, carpaced creatures striding toward him: the Athelieds.
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[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country.
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**INTERGALACTIC INSURRECTION**
Inside the cockpit, despite the perfect air conditioning, a bead of sweat rolled down Orion’s back. He knew he had just one shot at this. “Pull out of the warp maneuver in 3…2…1…*NOW!*” Shouted Lieutenant Lestrange.
Orion pulled back on the lever, engaged rear thrusters, and tried to hold himself still as the extreme forces battled towards equilibrium. When he was able to open his eyes again, the sight was beyond what he could ever have hoped.
Life. Advanced life! There was what must have been a space port teeming with activity, life forms coming and going, in orbit around a lush green planet. “This isn’t going to be Earth 2.0, crew!” Orion announced to everyone on the ship. “Expect contact with alien lifeforms imminently!”
Orion was much more excited than he was scared. Perhaps he ought to have been more worried than he was, but there was no way the alien lifeforms were this advanced and still barbarically hostile, right?
Cautiously, Orion guided the ship closer to their airspace. He had his comms engineer reaching out through every method he could think of, but there wasn’t any kind of response yet. Once Orion had pulled close enough in that he could begin to make out details on the space port, a trio of small ships departed and began their approach to his ship.
While he waited, he tried to learn what he could. The space port used the vacuum of space to initialize the launch of everyone departing, but only let out a few ships at a time, despite there being a long lineup. They would close the doors, passengers would load, the ships would engage their thrusters, and the door would open. Anything loose left in the bay would be sucked into space. Perhaps the reason there were only two or three ships departing at a time was to minimize the potential for impact, even though the bay could easily fit 10-15 of the standard ships Orion had noticed.
Orion pulled himself out of his thoughts as the trio of what appeared to be single-occupancy ships drew close. “Are we getting anything?” Orion called out to his comms engineer.
“Nothing I can make out.” He responded. “Various forms of short-wave, but I don’t even think it’s communication. Just noise.”
Eventually, the trio of ships pulled in front of Orion’s viewing window and slowly glided forward. Orion knew enough to figure out that they intended for him to follow.
“Lieutenant Lestrange, please get together with your choice of four of our crewmembers. Seems like we’re going to go on a tour soon. Bring me the multi-purpose suit as well. I’ll be coming of course.”
As the excited crew began to trade favors, argue, flip coins and engage in mostly-friendly horseplay surrounding the issue of who was to touch down first, Orion laid eyes on one of the new lifeforms for the first time. He set down in a bay that looked just like the departure bay he had been observing, and the door sealed behind them. From the small ships, out hopped one very tall, very lanky being whose personhood moreso resembled a spider than a human, though there were no facial characteristics visible. The second departed their cockpit, and they were sturdily built, and short. Orion would’ve likened them to a Tolkenien dwarf. They removed their helmet and their face was more akin to a Eewok from Starwars…if George Lucas was right about space after all this time, Orion was going to flip. He hadn’t attended ten years of studies and another five leading and training this crew to have been beaten to the punch in the freaking 1990’s!
Finally, Orion, Lieutenant Lestrange and five others (all of whom Orion would know by name, but their faces were covered by helmets) departed their ship.
They were greeted by the tall alien. As it approached, it vocalized a wide variety of tones and syllables. It was trying to establish language.
Orion responded. “Our warm and humble greetings! I am from a planet we designate as Earth from the galaxy we designate as The Milky Way–”
“Ah, humanoid.” The tall alien responded. “Mmm, Marcus, could you?”
“Aye.” Called out a distinctly human voice from the third ship.
“What in the…?” The crew began to murmur.
“Welcome to the Intergalactic Community, Captain..?” Came the human voice again as he was released from the bottom of his cockpit, dropping to the deck.
“Orion. Sorry, you’re human, like us? How are we not the first to make contact?”
“You are, sort of.” The man approached as he removed his helmet. Pale blonde hair and gray eyes accented his oddly perfect features. By his aesthetics alone he could have climbed to fame back on Earth. His build and looks were like if Jason Mamoa had impregnated an angel and he was the result. His accent was somewhat strange, nothing Orion had ever heard before, but he spoke with intention and clarity. “You are the first humans to reach us. As for myself and the others, we were…or, in my case, our great-grandparents were simply taken as samples from our original planet.”
Orion’s mouth went dry. “You’re kidnapping victims.”
The human, Marcus, arched an eyebrow, and a vein pulsed in his forehead. “That isn’t the terminology I would use. Perhaps from your perspective that sounds correct, but it paints us– the intergalactic community– in a certain light I wouldn’t prescribe us. Let’s take a tour and I can explain everything. But first, allow me to walk you through our decontamination cycle.”
“Y-yes, of course. How many humans are there here, Marcus?”
“Samples are maintained at a maximum of 100 per species until they are ready to join as full-fledged members of the community. We are currently at our maximum.”
“What happens if one of you has a child and the cap is broken?”
“Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”
Orion began to get a bit of a knot building in his stomach. The crew behind him was no longer quietly chattering, they stood at attention. They were subtly scanning their surroundings.
“The decontamination process can take place just over there.” Marcus pointed to the farther end of the bay, where what looked like two sets of tents were set up.
Orion led his crew inside. “Please strip off all your things and grab a new set of clothes. You won’t need your helmets and whatnot until you depart later, if you choose to do so.” Marcus continued. He now had the short, furry alien and tall, spider-like one at his side. While the crew stripped, they spoke quietly to one another.
“You two are the ones in charge, correct?” Marcus asked of Orion and Lestrange.
“Correct.” Orion responded neutrally.
“In the next tent, there is another set of jump suits you two should wear. It will distinguish you for our other members.”
Lestrange looked at Orion with the question in her eyes. What are we doing? Is this safe?
**CONT'D BELOW**
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Crimson bursts swam behind Commander Holland’s eyes. The ship slowed, feeling more like coming out of a spin than forward acceleration.
“Johnson, what do you see?” he asked, raising from the safety pod as soon as the locks clicked. He rubbed his eyes, idly wondering on the long-term effects of this bleeding-edge tech.
“We are indeed at the site of the anomaly, 36 light years from our starting point.” The navigation officer shifted in his seat. The map showed on his screen, a short thick line followed by a long dotted one.
Holland breathed a sigh of relief, even though this drive and the ship around it had possibly been checked over more times than any other creation in human history.
“Launch the scout probes,” Holland said, standing and walking towards the captain’s chair. They were on the cusp of discovering what phenomenon produced the heat of a star but no light at all. The entire world would be waiting for their report.
“Launching bays one through six,” the head of the front gunmen called. Holland hated the military terminology and the politics behind them even more. He was before all else a scientist, honorary naval rank or no.
“Sir, scout one is unresponsive, three also, and…” the gunman said. All three of the crew in the bay scrambled around each other to hurry to their seats. “Four is picking up a massive heat signature, wait. Also, down. All scouts are down. It seems like something hit them.”
“Well, I’d rather the scouts be faulty then the life support.” Holland stood again, back complaining at all the movement. “Prepare six EVA suits. We’ll check this out the old fashion way.”
“Sir, that may be unnecessary,” the comms officer, Jacobs, said, pulling up a wavelength readout on the main bridge display. “The anomaly is directing a signal aimed right at us.” She began typing quickly.
Holland watched as the wave on the screen spiked, croaking and whispering coming through the ship speakers. It changed drastically every few seconds.
“For English, press four two nine Blue Rose,” a voice said clear as day from the speakers, followed by what sounded like cricket song.
The bridge went quiet save for the prattling transmission. Holland realized everyone was staring at him. Was this first contact? Focusing on the magnitude of a situation only weakens your ability to respond to it. Who had said that?
“Send back traditional radio comms matching the frequency,” Holland cleared his throat. “Four two nine blue rose. This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Can anyone read me?”
“It’s through, sir,” Jacobs said, voice shaking.
The rhythmic noises stopped, followed by a few sharp, rough ones and what sounded like flipping through pages.
“Human?” came from the transmission, a voice of indeterminate gender. Jacobs pointed back to Holland with a thumbs up.
He nodded. “Yes, we are humans. You are not?”
“Irrelevant,” the voice said. “To expedite the docking procedure, please refrain from responding except to answer questions. What is the planet of origin of your vessel?”
“Earth,” Holland said. “It was constructed in Quebec, Canada two years ago.”
A grunt with the inflection of a sigh came through. “The Qui share the human love of nonsensical farce. The Roshaiya do not. Your ship is not in any known registry. I will need dimensional schematics, atmospheric contents, and load bearing analysis through each ship exterior edge.”
“We can send you this information,” Holland said. “But to what end?”
“Excuse me,” the voice said. “The nature of this conversation has grown too offensive to me. Hold on.”
“I apologize for any-” Holland began.
“Yo!” a new male voice came from the speakers, including amazingly, video footage of a young pale dark haired man. “Sorry about that guy. Really hates any of the stock races. Just be glad you don’t have to look at him.” The man gestured dismissively at something offscreen.
“This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Am I correct in assuming you are a human inside the anomaly?”
“Whoa, the anomaly, that’s a sick name. Yeah, yeah,” the man said. “Man, we mostly know Earth from radio and TV stuff and can I just say, you look just like the Hogan Heroes guy. I never saw anybody that old. Did you guys really build that ship, like sci-fi style?”
“Yes,” Holland said. “You said we, are there many humans there with you?”
“Oh yeah, it varies depending on the season but they keep up at 10,000 or so.” Behind the man, Holland could make out several other humans walking in neat rows towards a pond of bluish green water. “The holiday for the Empers they have every few years is coming up so they aim for a lot to be 25 to cap out around now, yours truly included.” He nodded and smiled, touching a hand to his chest. His fingernails were strangely long.
“I’m having trouble with the terminology,” Holland said, sitting back down. “Cap out? Empers? Is that the species we were talking to earlier?”
The man laughed, scratching his long hair, “No way, Drif? He’s just a roshi AKA stick firmly up the keister. Embers are the big bosses that built the Blue Rose, the anomaly I guess. Loads of different species come and go. Cap out is when a person gets too old and is sent off to be put down.”
“So,” Holland said carefully, glancing around the bridge. “You’re telling me when people reach 25 years old, they are killed here?”
“Yep,” the man said cheerfully, typing on a screen. “Well, just humans. It’s different by stock species. Makes sense they don’t do that on Earth. Who would eat them, right? What’s it like growing old? Seems kind of gross.”
Holland stared at the young man bopping his head along to some unheard song, trying to think how to respond.
“Docking procedure initiated,” an automated voice said. The ship lurched forward, drifting to the anomaly.
The young man gave a thumbs up and the feed cut. "See you in a minute, friends."
/r/surinical
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[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country.
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"And therefore, we, the designated caretaker guardians of the Earth Natural Evolution Zone, do welcome our fellow genetic cousins to the Galactic community with the status of provisional wards." The galactic ambassador had droned on for fifteen minutes in his oddly accented English.
They were human. Julia had trained to expect anything when given the job of Earth's representative. She'd been ready for overeager tentacles and sealed chlorine environments, for odd smells and guttural clicking languages. But the only reason the ambassador in front of her would have turned heads on a busy New York street would be his perfect hair, strong jawline, and the skin-tight silver jumpsuit which revealed a Appollian physique.
Julia blinked when she realized he had stopped talking. She fell back to her prepared remarks. "As representative of Earth, I hope for productive discussions and negotiations regarding our place in the Galactic community. We are excited for this opportunity to learn from each other. We—"
"Yes. I'm sure your input will be interesting. The first forum for discussion of your... situation will be in three rotations. You are, of course, welcome to attend. I will be leading the decision panel, along with others that have a genetic interest. Please enjoy the festivities." The ambassador quickly executed a wiggling bow and turned to begin a conversation with a huddle of other humans in the same silvery jumpsuits.
Julia turned to her companions. "Go... mingle, I guess. I suppose we can assume the food is edible."
She quickly found herself standing alone next to a table filled with piles of what appeared to be small blue vegetables. They tasted a bit metallic. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "If you would follow me, I would desire to speak in private."
A figure in a dark flowing robe had already begun to walk away by the time she turned around. Another human. She'd hoped for a second that it was at least one of the floating orb aliens or hulking shadows that stood quietly on the room's mezzanine. She shrugged and followed anyway.
The figure led her to a quiet niche in the side of the hall. There was another huddle of humans here. Along with the figure in the robe, they were the first she'd seen not wearing those jumpsuits.
The central man was dressed in a blue tabard with a large floppy hat decorated with a large feather. He bowed as she approached, flourishing the hat. "Representative, allow me to introduce myself, I am the Comte de Bon San Jamie, Louis Phillipe Quatramontaine, the Fourth. The Lady to my right is Miss Alice Worthingham. Your illustrious guide is Og, and to my left is William Robert Thurston."
"For the last time, Luey, it's Billy-Bob." The man on the left was wearing what Julia at first took to be denim overalls. As she got closer she realized that it must be made from the same material as the silver jumpsuits, just colored and cut in imitation. Billy-Bob grinned at her.
Julia took them all in. "You're all from Earth?"
The Comte set the hat back on his head. "You are quite correct, mon cherie. True sons of mother Earth, and daughter excuse me Miss Alice, born and bred of the good soil, and wanting to give you a true welcome, unlike those descendents of ours."
"The ambassador is one of your descendents? He gave a very... different impression than you do. How long have you been here to have descendents?" Julia wished she had a drink.
The Comte grimaced at the mention of the ambassador. "The ambassador— He is what we would have called in my native France— allow me to translate from the language of my birth— A total condescending asshole. To be absolutely honest with you, madam, most of the children raised here forget their origins. They could never visit Earth and so they grew up more alien than human. I myself can no longer bring myself to have children here, and have not had one in several centuries."
"I've got a couple still running around somewhere," Billy-Bob said with a grin. "But then, even back home my kids weren't nothing to write home about. Og's got some recent brood, too, but they tend to keep to themselves."
Julia took her first good look at Og. He was short but muscular under the robe, with a prominent brow ridge and weak chin. He nodded and said nothing.
The Comte continued. "You allow me to digress, madam, what we have brought you here to say is that you will not get what you want from the local-born. They will talk over your head and try to make decisions for you. They believe the earth-born to be curiosities to be protected, tucked away where they can do no harm. They will give you no technology, allow you to go only where they deem acceptable, hold you back for your own supposed safety."
Julia looked him in the eyes. "And what do you want?"
"Why to go home, of course. And if you help us, we'll take everything with us that's not nailed down."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
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Crimson bursts swam behind Commander Holland’s eyes. The ship slowed, feeling more like coming out of a spin than forward acceleration.
“Johnson, what do you see?” he asked, raising from the safety pod as soon as the locks clicked. He rubbed his eyes, idly wondering on the long-term effects of this bleeding-edge tech.
“We are indeed at the site of the anomaly, 36 light years from our starting point.” The navigation officer shifted in his seat. The map showed on his screen, a short thick line followed by a long dotted one.
Holland breathed a sigh of relief, even though this drive and the ship around it had possibly been checked over more times than any other creation in human history.
“Launch the scout probes,” Holland said, standing and walking towards the captain’s chair. They were on the cusp of discovering what phenomenon produced the heat of a star but no light at all. The entire world would be waiting for their report.
“Launching bays one through six,” the head of the front gunmen called. Holland hated the military terminology and the politics behind them even more. He was before all else a scientist, honorary naval rank or no.
“Sir, scout one is unresponsive, three also, and…” the gunman said. All three of the crew in the bay scrambled around each other to hurry to their seats. “Four is picking up a massive heat signature, wait. Also, down. All scouts are down. It seems like something hit them.”
“Well, I’d rather the scouts be faulty then the life support.” Holland stood again, back complaining at all the movement. “Prepare six EVA suits. We’ll check this out the old fashion way.”
“Sir, that may be unnecessary,” the comms officer, Jacobs, said, pulling up a wavelength readout on the main bridge display. “The anomaly is directing a signal aimed right at us.” She began typing quickly.
Holland watched as the wave on the screen spiked, croaking and whispering coming through the ship speakers. It changed drastically every few seconds.
“For English, press four two nine Blue Rose,” a voice said clear as day from the speakers, followed by what sounded like cricket song.
The bridge went quiet save for the prattling transmission. Holland realized everyone was staring at him. Was this first contact? Focusing on the magnitude of a situation only weakens your ability to respond to it. Who had said that?
“Send back traditional radio comms matching the frequency,” Holland cleared his throat. “Four two nine blue rose. This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Can anyone read me?”
“It’s through, sir,” Jacobs said, voice shaking.
The rhythmic noises stopped, followed by a few sharp, rough ones and what sounded like flipping through pages.
“Human?” came from the transmission, a voice of indeterminate gender. Jacobs pointed back to Holland with a thumbs up.
He nodded. “Yes, we are humans. You are not?”
“Irrelevant,” the voice said. “To expedite the docking procedure, please refrain from responding except to answer questions. What is the planet of origin of your vessel?”
“Earth,” Holland said. “It was constructed in Quebec, Canada two years ago.”
A grunt with the inflection of a sigh came through. “The Qui share the human love of nonsensical farce. The Roshaiya do not. Your ship is not in any known registry. I will need dimensional schematics, atmospheric contents, and load bearing analysis through each ship exterior edge.”
“We can send you this information,” Holland said. “But to what end?”
“Excuse me,” the voice said. “The nature of this conversation has grown too offensive to me. Hold on.”
“I apologize for any-” Holland began.
“Yo!” a new male voice came from the speakers, including amazingly, video footage of a young pale dark haired man. “Sorry about that guy. Really hates any of the stock races. Just be glad you don’t have to look at him.” The man gestured dismissively at something offscreen.
“This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Am I correct in assuming you are a human inside the anomaly?”
“Whoa, the anomaly, that’s a sick name. Yeah, yeah,” the man said. “Man, we mostly know Earth from radio and TV stuff and can I just say, you look just like the Hogan Heroes guy. I never saw anybody that old. Did you guys really build that ship, like sci-fi style?”
“Yes,” Holland said. “You said we, are there many humans there with you?”
“Oh yeah, it varies depending on the season but they keep up at 10,000 or so.” Behind the man, Holland could make out several other humans walking in neat rows towards a pond of bluish green water. “The holiday for the Empers they have every few years is coming up so they aim for a lot to be 25 to cap out around now, yours truly included.” He nodded and smiled, touching a hand to his chest. His fingernails were strangely long.
“I’m having trouble with the terminology,” Holland said, sitting back down. “Cap out? Empers? Is that the species we were talking to earlier?”
The man laughed, scratching his long hair, “No way, Drif? He’s just a roshi AKA stick firmly up the keister. Embers are the big bosses that built the Blue Rose, the anomaly I guess. Loads of different species come and go. Cap out is when a person gets too old and is sent off to be put down.”
“So,” Holland said carefully, glancing around the bridge. “You’re telling me when people reach 25 years old, they are killed here?”
“Yep,” the man said cheerfully, typing on a screen. “Well, just humans. It’s different by stock species. Makes sense they don’t do that on Earth. Who would eat them, right? What’s it like growing old? Seems kind of gross.”
Holland stared at the young man bopping his head along to some unheard song, trying to think how to respond.
“Docking procedure initiated,” an automated voice said. The ship lurched forward, drifting to the anomaly.
The young man gave a thumbs up and the feed cut. "See you in a minute, friends."
/r/surinical
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[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country.
|
"I just... I still don't quite understand," Captain Jefferson repeated as he sat across from the colourfully dressed man. This was to be a day of triumph - not just for him, but all of humanity. The warp drive! Travel lightyears in seconds! And, of course, at last contact with other intelligent life!
And he did. He was found by an alien ship which promptly ushered him into a megastructure orbiting a nearby - relatively speaking, of course - star that served as a meeting centre for the Galactic Community. A centre where he saw more aliens than he could ever imagine. A centre where he found another human.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," the fellow human nodded. "I mean people don't really think about it, but when you get abducted, you don't just disappear. Most of us end up here."
"But... there's thousands of you! You've made an entire country just out of abductees!" Jefferson cried out.
"We have an excellent source of income from tourism. You'd be shocked how many aliens find human culture utterly fascinating," the man laughed. Jefferson was less entertained.
"Look," the man continued, "I can imagine this is tough. You expected to be the first human on the galactic scene. It's not your fault! We've been around for centuries, you couldn't have-"
"Did you say centuries?" Jefferson interrupted.
"Oh. *Right*. This has been going on for a *while*. That and there's some, uh... excellent healthcare on the galactic market. I'm actually 307," the man said casually. Jefferson eyed him up and down. He looked barely 40.
"This is insane," Jefferson continued. "Don't you miss Earth? Your families?"
"They're dead by now," the man said dryly. His tone was casual, but the way he lowered his eyes betrayed proved he wasn't as callous about it as he wanted to seem.
"And do you not hold a grudge against those who took you?"
"That's... a peculiar matter. See, abducting sentient species is strictly against Galactic Code. On Earth, it's mostly done by the sh'keen - I always pronounce it wrong, mind you - who are heavily scrutinised by the Lawbringers. That's, uh, sort of like Galactic police. Still, it does happen. Basically, those who abduct us aren't a part of the Community."
"Huh," Jefferson said half-heartedly.
"You alright?" the man said with a warm smile.
"Processing."
"Understandable."
The two sat silently as the man quietly sipped a beverage Jefferson had never seen but looked oddly appetizing.
"Did any of you ever try going back?" Jefferson asked.
"Some. Never ends well."
"How so?"
"Well," the man adjusted himself in his seat, "few of us - those abducted more recently, mind you - can attest that claiming to have been abducted by aliens don't fare too well. And some of those were likely those who chose to return," he said and motioned a circle around his temple.
"But you could show the technology you used to get back, surely! That-"
"Would be extremely against the Code. Lawbringers wouldn't let you get 10 light years from a non-space-faring civilization with current tech. You have to go in covertly with an official escort. Tons of paperwork."
"But we've been space-faring since, like... 1960's," Jefferson protested.
"Right, the Moon, right?" the man noted. "Yeah, one of the recent arrivals told me about that. Let's be honest though... that's like comparing driving on a highway to sticking a finger out of your window."
Jefferson opened his mouth to protest but found no words. The man was ultimately right, painful as it might have felt.
"Now what?" Jefferson asked. He felt silly for asking that - he was the first man to travel in the warp, he was supposed to be making those calls, but in the face of this colossal revelation, he felt totally helpless.
"Well, Earth has officially become advanced enough to be welcomed into the Community. Still - there's a lot of paperwork to be done and committees to be assembled before we can officially get to that. Best you stay a while until that is all done, meet the locals," the man smiled.
Jefferson nodded, though he wasn't wholly convinced by his own agreement. The man reached into his waistcoat and pulled out an old pocket watch with an engraved lid. Unlike the man himself, the watch actually seemed its age, though it was excellently maintained.
"Now then," the man stood up with a wide smile. "Lunch?"
|
Crimson bursts swam behind Commander Holland’s eyes. The ship slowed, feeling more like coming out of a spin than forward acceleration.
“Johnson, what do you see?” he asked, raising from the safety pod as soon as the locks clicked. He rubbed his eyes, idly wondering on the long-term effects of this bleeding-edge tech.
“We are indeed at the site of the anomaly, 36 light years from our starting point.” The navigation officer shifted in his seat. The map showed on his screen, a short thick line followed by a long dotted one.
Holland breathed a sigh of relief, even though this drive and the ship around it had possibly been checked over more times than any other creation in human history.
“Launch the scout probes,” Holland said, standing and walking towards the captain’s chair. They were on the cusp of discovering what phenomenon produced the heat of a star but no light at all. The entire world would be waiting for their report.
“Launching bays one through six,” the head of the front gunmen called. Holland hated the military terminology and the politics behind them even more. He was before all else a scientist, honorary naval rank or no.
“Sir, scout one is unresponsive, three also, and…” the gunman said. All three of the crew in the bay scrambled around each other to hurry to their seats. “Four is picking up a massive heat signature, wait. Also, down. All scouts are down. It seems like something hit them.”
“Well, I’d rather the scouts be faulty then the life support.” Holland stood again, back complaining at all the movement. “Prepare six EVA suits. We’ll check this out the old fashion way.”
“Sir, that may be unnecessary,” the comms officer, Jacobs, said, pulling up a wavelength readout on the main bridge display. “The anomaly is directing a signal aimed right at us.” She began typing quickly.
Holland watched as the wave on the screen spiked, croaking and whispering coming through the ship speakers. It changed drastically every few seconds.
“For English, press four two nine Blue Rose,” a voice said clear as day from the speakers, followed by what sounded like cricket song.
The bridge went quiet save for the prattling transmission. Holland realized everyone was staring at him. Was this first contact? Focusing on the magnitude of a situation only weakens your ability to respond to it. Who had said that?
“Send back traditional radio comms matching the frequency,” Holland cleared his throat. “Four two nine blue rose. This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Can anyone read me?”
“It’s through, sir,” Jacobs said, voice shaking.
The rhythmic noises stopped, followed by a few sharp, rough ones and what sounded like flipping through pages.
“Human?” came from the transmission, a voice of indeterminate gender. Jacobs pointed back to Holland with a thumbs up.
He nodded. “Yes, we are humans. You are not?”
“Irrelevant,” the voice said. “To expedite the docking procedure, please refrain from responding except to answer questions. What is the planet of origin of your vessel?”
“Earth,” Holland said. “It was constructed in Quebec, Canada two years ago.”
A grunt with the inflection of a sigh came through. “The Qui share the human love of nonsensical farce. The Roshaiya do not. Your ship is not in any known registry. I will need dimensional schematics, atmospheric contents, and load bearing analysis through each ship exterior edge.”
“We can send you this information,” Holland said. “But to what end?”
“Excuse me,” the voice said. “The nature of this conversation has grown too offensive to me. Hold on.”
“I apologize for any-” Holland began.
“Yo!” a new male voice came from the speakers, including amazingly, video footage of a young pale dark haired man. “Sorry about that guy. Really hates any of the stock races. Just be glad you don’t have to look at him.” The man gestured dismissively at something offscreen.
“This is Commander Holland of the SFS Rideya. Am I correct in assuming you are a human inside the anomaly?”
“Whoa, the anomaly, that’s a sick name. Yeah, yeah,” the man said. “Man, we mostly know Earth from radio and TV stuff and can I just say, you look just like the Hogan Heroes guy. I never saw anybody that old. Did you guys really build that ship, like sci-fi style?”
“Yes,” Holland said. “You said we, are there many humans there with you?”
“Oh yeah, it varies depending on the season but they keep up at 10,000 or so.” Behind the man, Holland could make out several other humans walking in neat rows towards a pond of bluish green water. “The holiday for the Empers they have every few years is coming up so they aim for a lot to be 25 to cap out around now, yours truly included.” He nodded and smiled, touching a hand to his chest. His fingernails were strangely long.
“I’m having trouble with the terminology,” Holland said, sitting back down. “Cap out? Empers? Is that the species we were talking to earlier?”
The man laughed, scratching his long hair, “No way, Drif? He’s just a roshi AKA stick firmly up the keister. Embers are the big bosses that built the Blue Rose, the anomaly I guess. Loads of different species come and go. Cap out is when a person gets too old and is sent off to be put down.”
“So,” Holland said carefully, glancing around the bridge. “You’re telling me when people reach 25 years old, they are killed here?”
“Yep,” the man said cheerfully, typing on a screen. “Well, just humans. It’s different by stock species. Makes sense they don’t do that on Earth. Who would eat them, right? What’s it like growing old? Seems kind of gross.”
Holland stared at the young man bopping his head along to some unheard song, trying to think how to respond.
“Docking procedure initiated,” an automated voice said. The ship lurched forward, drifting to the anomaly.
The young man gave a thumbs up and the feed cut. "See you in a minute, friends."
/r/surinical
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[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country.
|
"And therefore, we, the designated caretaker guardians of the Earth Natural Evolution Zone, do welcome our fellow genetic cousins to the Galactic community with the status of provisional wards." The galactic ambassador had droned on for fifteen minutes in his oddly accented English.
They were human. Julia had trained to expect anything when given the job of Earth's representative. She'd been ready for overeager tentacles and sealed chlorine environments, for odd smells and guttural clicking languages. But the only reason the ambassador in front of her would have turned heads on a busy New York street would be his perfect hair, strong jawline, and the skin-tight silver jumpsuit which revealed a Appollian physique.
Julia blinked when she realized he had stopped talking. She fell back to her prepared remarks. "As representative of Earth, I hope for productive discussions and negotiations regarding our place in the Galactic community. We are excited for this opportunity to learn from each other. We—"
"Yes. I'm sure your input will be interesting. The first forum for discussion of your... situation will be in three rotations. You are, of course, welcome to attend. I will be leading the decision panel, along with others that have a genetic interest. Please enjoy the festivities." The ambassador quickly executed a wiggling bow and turned to begin a conversation with a huddle of other humans in the same silvery jumpsuits.
Julia turned to her companions. "Go... mingle, I guess. I suppose we can assume the food is edible."
She quickly found herself standing alone next to a table filled with piles of what appeared to be small blue vegetables. They tasted a bit metallic. She felt a tap on her shoulder. "If you would follow me, I would desire to speak in private."
A figure in a dark flowing robe had already begun to walk away by the time she turned around. Another human. She'd hoped for a second that it was at least one of the floating orb aliens or hulking shadows that stood quietly on the room's mezzanine. She shrugged and followed anyway.
The figure led her to a quiet niche in the side of the hall. There was another huddle of humans here. Along with the figure in the robe, they were the first she'd seen not wearing those jumpsuits.
The central man was dressed in a blue tabard with a large floppy hat decorated with a large feather. He bowed as she approached, flourishing the hat. "Representative, allow me to introduce myself, I am the Comte de Bon San Jamie, Louis Phillipe Quatramontaine, the Fourth. The Lady to my right is Miss Alice Worthingham. Your illustrious guide is Og, and to my left is William Robert Thurston."
"For the last time, Luey, it's Billy-Bob." The man on the left was wearing what Julia at first took to be denim overalls. As she got closer she realized that it must be made from the same material as the silver jumpsuits, just colored and cut in imitation. Billy-Bob grinned at her.
Julia took them all in. "You're all from Earth?"
The Comte set the hat back on his head. "You are quite correct, mon cherie. True sons of mother Earth, and daughter excuse me Miss Alice, born and bred of the good soil, and wanting to give you a true welcome, unlike those descendents of ours."
"The ambassador is one of your descendents? He gave a very... different impression than you do. How long have you been here to have descendents?" Julia wished she had a drink.
The Comte grimaced at the mention of the ambassador. "The ambassador— He is what we would have called in my native France— allow me to translate from the language of my birth— A total condescending asshole. To be absolutely honest with you, madam, most of the children raised here forget their origins. They could never visit Earth and so they grew up more alien than human. I myself can no longer bring myself to have children here, and have not had one in several centuries."
"I've got a couple still running around somewhere," Billy-Bob said with a grin. "But then, even back home my kids weren't nothing to write home about. Og's got some recent brood, too, but they tend to keep to themselves."
Julia took her first good look at Og. He was short but muscular under the robe, with a prominent brow ridge and weak chin. He nodded and said nothing.
The Comte continued. "You allow me to digress, madam, what we have brought you here to say is that you will not get what you want from the local-born. They will talk over your head and try to make decisions for you. They believe the earth-born to be curiosities to be protected, tucked away where they can do no harm. They will give you no technology, allow you to go only where they deem acceptable, hold you back for your own supposed safety."
Julia looked him in the eyes. "And what do you want?"
"Why to go home, of course. And if you help us, we'll take everything with us that's not nailed down."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\]
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**INTERGALACTIC INSURRECTION**
Inside the cockpit, despite the perfect air conditioning, a bead of sweat rolled down Orion’s back. He knew he had just one shot at this. “Pull out of the warp maneuver in 3…2…1…*NOW!*” Shouted Lieutenant Lestrange.
Orion pulled back on the lever, engaged rear thrusters, and tried to hold himself still as the extreme forces battled towards equilibrium. When he was able to open his eyes again, the sight was beyond what he could ever have hoped.
Life. Advanced life! There was what must have been a space port teeming with activity, life forms coming and going, in orbit around a lush green planet. “This isn’t going to be Earth 2.0, crew!” Orion announced to everyone on the ship. “Expect contact with alien lifeforms imminently!”
Orion was much more excited than he was scared. Perhaps he ought to have been more worried than he was, but there was no way the alien lifeforms were this advanced and still barbarically hostile, right?
Cautiously, Orion guided the ship closer to their airspace. He had his comms engineer reaching out through every method he could think of, but there wasn’t any kind of response yet. Once Orion had pulled close enough in that he could begin to make out details on the space port, a trio of small ships departed and began their approach to his ship.
While he waited, he tried to learn what he could. The space port used the vacuum of space to initialize the launch of everyone departing, but only let out a few ships at a time, despite there being a long lineup. They would close the doors, passengers would load, the ships would engage their thrusters, and the door would open. Anything loose left in the bay would be sucked into space. Perhaps the reason there were only two or three ships departing at a time was to minimize the potential for impact, even though the bay could easily fit 10-15 of the standard ships Orion had noticed.
Orion pulled himself out of his thoughts as the trio of what appeared to be single-occupancy ships drew close. “Are we getting anything?” Orion called out to his comms engineer.
“Nothing I can make out.” He responded. “Various forms of short-wave, but I don’t even think it’s communication. Just noise.”
Eventually, the trio of ships pulled in front of Orion’s viewing window and slowly glided forward. Orion knew enough to figure out that they intended for him to follow.
“Lieutenant Lestrange, please get together with your choice of four of our crewmembers. Seems like we’re going to go on a tour soon. Bring me the multi-purpose suit as well. I’ll be coming of course.”
As the excited crew began to trade favors, argue, flip coins and engage in mostly-friendly horseplay surrounding the issue of who was to touch down first, Orion laid eyes on one of the new lifeforms for the first time. He set down in a bay that looked just like the departure bay he had been observing, and the door sealed behind them. From the small ships, out hopped one very tall, very lanky being whose personhood moreso resembled a spider than a human, though there were no facial characteristics visible. The second departed their cockpit, and they were sturdily built, and short. Orion would’ve likened them to a Tolkenien dwarf. They removed their helmet and their face was more akin to a Eewok from Starwars…if George Lucas was right about space after all this time, Orion was going to flip. He hadn’t attended ten years of studies and another five leading and training this crew to have been beaten to the punch in the freaking 1990’s!
Finally, Orion, Lieutenant Lestrange and five others (all of whom Orion would know by name, but their faces were covered by helmets) departed their ship.
They were greeted by the tall alien. As it approached, it vocalized a wide variety of tones and syllables. It was trying to establish language.
Orion responded. “Our warm and humble greetings! I am from a planet we designate as Earth from the galaxy we designate as The Milky Way–”
“Ah, humanoid.” The tall alien responded. “Mmm, Marcus, could you?”
“Aye.” Called out a distinctly human voice from the third ship.
“What in the…?” The crew began to murmur.
“Welcome to the Intergalactic Community, Captain..?” Came the human voice again as he was released from the bottom of his cockpit, dropping to the deck.
“Orion. Sorry, you’re human, like us? How are we not the first to make contact?”
“You are, sort of.” The man approached as he removed his helmet. Pale blonde hair and gray eyes accented his oddly perfect features. By his aesthetics alone he could have climbed to fame back on Earth. His build and looks were like if Jason Mamoa had impregnated an angel and he was the result. His accent was somewhat strange, nothing Orion had ever heard before, but he spoke with intention and clarity. “You are the first humans to reach us. As for myself and the others, we were…or, in my case, our great-grandparents were simply taken as samples from our original planet.”
Orion’s mouth went dry. “You’re kidnapping victims.”
The human, Marcus, arched an eyebrow, and a vein pulsed in his forehead. “That isn’t the terminology I would use. Perhaps from your perspective that sounds correct, but it paints us– the intergalactic community– in a certain light I wouldn’t prescribe us. Let’s take a tour and I can explain everything. But first, allow me to walk you through our decontamination cycle.”
“Y-yes, of course. How many humans are there here, Marcus?”
“Samples are maintained at a maximum of 100 per species until they are ready to join as full-fledged members of the community. We are currently at our maximum.”
“What happens if one of you has a child and the cap is broken?”
“Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”
Orion began to get a bit of a knot building in his stomach. The crew behind him was no longer quietly chattering, they stood at attention. They were subtly scanning their surroundings.
“The decontamination process can take place just over there.” Marcus pointed to the farther end of the bay, where what looked like two sets of tents were set up.
Orion led his crew inside. “Please strip off all your things and grab a new set of clothes. You won’t need your helmets and whatnot until you depart later, if you choose to do so.” Marcus continued. He now had the short, furry alien and tall, spider-like one at his side. While the crew stripped, they spoke quietly to one another.
“You two are the ones in charge, correct?” Marcus asked of Orion and Lestrange.
“Correct.” Orion responded neutrally.
“In the next tent, there is another set of jump suits you two should wear. It will distinguish you for our other members.”
Lestrange looked at Orion with the question in her eyes. What are we doing? Is this safe?
**CONT'D BELOW**
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[WP] We invent the warp drive, only to discover that humans are already a member of the galactic community. Apparently there have been enough alien abductions over the years to start a small country.
|
"I just... I still don't quite understand," Captain Jefferson repeated as he sat across from the colourfully dressed man. This was to be a day of triumph - not just for him, but all of humanity. The warp drive! Travel lightyears in seconds! And, of course, at last contact with other intelligent life!
And he did. He was found by an alien ship which promptly ushered him into a megastructure orbiting a nearby - relatively speaking, of course - star that served as a meeting centre for the Galactic Community. A centre where he saw more aliens than he could ever imagine. A centre where he found another human.
"It's not as bad as it sounds," the fellow human nodded. "I mean people don't really think about it, but when you get abducted, you don't just disappear. Most of us end up here."
"But... there's thousands of you! You've made an entire country just out of abductees!" Jefferson cried out.
"We have an excellent source of income from tourism. You'd be shocked how many aliens find human culture utterly fascinating," the man laughed. Jefferson was less entertained.
"Look," the man continued, "I can imagine this is tough. You expected to be the first human on the galactic scene. It's not your fault! We've been around for centuries, you couldn't have-"
"Did you say centuries?" Jefferson interrupted.
"Oh. *Right*. This has been going on for a *while*. That and there's some, uh... excellent healthcare on the galactic market. I'm actually 307," the man said casually. Jefferson eyed him up and down. He looked barely 40.
"This is insane," Jefferson continued. "Don't you miss Earth? Your families?"
"They're dead by now," the man said dryly. His tone was casual, but the way he lowered his eyes betrayed proved he wasn't as callous about it as he wanted to seem.
"And do you not hold a grudge against those who took you?"
"That's... a peculiar matter. See, abducting sentient species is strictly against Galactic Code. On Earth, it's mostly done by the sh'keen - I always pronounce it wrong, mind you - who are heavily scrutinised by the Lawbringers. That's, uh, sort of like Galactic police. Still, it does happen. Basically, those who abduct us aren't a part of the Community."
"Huh," Jefferson said half-heartedly.
"You alright?" the man said with a warm smile.
"Processing."
"Understandable."
The two sat silently as the man quietly sipped a beverage Jefferson had never seen but looked oddly appetizing.
"Did any of you ever try going back?" Jefferson asked.
"Some. Never ends well."
"How so?"
"Well," the man adjusted himself in his seat, "few of us - those abducted more recently, mind you - can attest that claiming to have been abducted by aliens don't fare too well. And some of those were likely those who chose to return," he said and motioned a circle around his temple.
"But you could show the technology you used to get back, surely! That-"
"Would be extremely against the Code. Lawbringers wouldn't let you get 10 light years from a non-space-faring civilization with current tech. You have to go in covertly with an official escort. Tons of paperwork."
"But we've been space-faring since, like... 1960's," Jefferson protested.
"Right, the Moon, right?" the man noted. "Yeah, one of the recent arrivals told me about that. Let's be honest though... that's like comparing driving on a highway to sticking a finger out of your window."
Jefferson opened his mouth to protest but found no words. The man was ultimately right, painful as it might have felt.
"Now what?" Jefferson asked. He felt silly for asking that - he was the first man to travel in the warp, he was supposed to be making those calls, but in the face of this colossal revelation, he felt totally helpless.
"Well, Earth has officially become advanced enough to be welcomed into the Community. Still - there's a lot of paperwork to be done and committees to be assembled before we can officially get to that. Best you stay a while until that is all done, meet the locals," the man smiled.
Jefferson nodded, though he wasn't wholly convinced by his own agreement. The man reached into his waistcoat and pulled out an old pocket watch with an engraved lid. Unlike the man himself, the watch actually seemed its age, though it was excellently maintained.
"Now then," the man stood up with a wide smile. "Lunch?"
|
"Engine Status?"
"Engine shutdown cycle progressing, core radiation looks stable" the engineering officer replied.
"Lieutenant, how close are we to the target coordinates?"
"Still working on that, captain. There seems to be an issue with camera 5, the computer cant get a fix on Orion." came the pilot's voice from the my other side, tinged with an edge of worry.
"Patch that camera through to the main screen, lets make sure its online." *Hopefully those bureaucrats on Earth didn't saddle us with a lemon*, I thought. The early translight probes in the HERMES series had suffered several equipment failures when coming out of warp, but I had been promised by any number of grinning politicians that the engineers had solved the problem.
The small monitor in the center of the cramped cockpit flicked to a feed from the ventral navigation camera, showing a field of stars below the capsule, interrupted by a small, roughly ovoid patch of pure blackness.
"We're receiving a transmission, captain; though I don't see how that's possible. If we are where we're supposed the be the transmission from Luna 1 shouldn't catch up with us for another 10 minutes." The engineer's voice broke the silence, making me jump.
"Well lets have a listen, maybe we we're off target."
What came through the speakers however; was not the short, patriotic speech broadcast 2 weeks before to intercept us at the target coordinates but a cheerful, bubbly voice saying "Welcome, and Congratulations! It's nice to see someone from Earth again!"
"What?" I said aloud, "Who is that and how did someone get a transmission out this far?"
After a moment, the voice resumed "Hello? Are you receiving? We see your ship about 2500km away from us."
*2500km?* "Engineering, fire up the radar and see if there's actually something out there." I said, slipping on my headset and activating the transmitter before saying "Who is this?"
"Sorry," came the voice "I suppose I should have introduced myself, I'm Amelia and I'm the assigned emissary to Earth from the Interplanetary Coalition. I'm here to bring you up to speed on us folks from the rest of the local stellar group. Do you mind if we switch to visual transmission?"
"Sure," I said hesitantly, hitting the control while looking over at the radar screen the engineering officer had indicated which *-I'llbeasonofa-* did indeed display a contact a little more than 2400km away.
The main screen now displayed an image of a woman, a real, honest-to-god human woman with strong cheekbones and off-blonde hair wryly grinning at what what must have been a truly dumbfounded look on my face.
"We're on our way, I'll explain more when we've got you aboard."
|
|
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
I am a Jiggaboo. It might sound funny but in Monster Speak it basically “Shape Shifter”. We Jiggaboo have been around for a couple millennia now, hiding under the bed of all children. It’s a sacred duty, one in which we infuse the child with the strength to face the real world by having to deal with us nightly. We gain a benefit of adding to our stock of avatars we can use. I’m actually at a loss trying to count them.
So I wasn’t at all surprised that after Billie Jean grew up, it was time for a new assignment. I go to the Office of the Assignments, yeah, I know, cringe name. There I get my new assignment.
“Douglas Sparks,” the Assigner says. The voice sounds familiar but the Assigner is wearing the Avatar of a Slave whose Broken His Chains. Must be feeling a bit nostalgic for her days on the Antebellum South. “13 years old. Montreal.”
“Ah, Canada.” I say, affecting my best Canadian accent. “What am I this time? Ugly Ryan Reynolds? Justin Bieber whose moved back to Canada? An American? A moose who won’t let people ride him? The Canuck hockey team? Maple Syrup that’s not fresh? I’m still having issues from the last time I did that.”
“Nothing like that,” the Assigner says. “You are his mom.”
“His mom?” I frown. “That must be a joke.”
“No joke.”
“Must be afraid that she’ll take away his Maple Leafe Syrup if he doesn’t get good grades,” I grumble. “Moms are generally the comforting ones.”
Of course I still went. The Mrs’ is a vampire with an aversion to human blood, so it’s not like she gets a steady income. Being a Jiggaboo pays pretty well and you get double pay for hiding under the beds of boys.
So I wait until little Douglas is off to school. For Jiggaboo, it’s much easier entering a house in the daytime than at night. Homes have some real magicky guff that at night, monsters can’t get in. It’s why real vampires don’t actually attack people in their homes. That’s made up by the likes of Brom Stroker.
It’s a three bedroom house and everything looks normal. Pictures of the family, a very cute family of the parents and a single child. A few nice potted plants and the newest gaming systems stacked by a 100 inch tv. It’s clear that the family is loaded.
I go to the kids room. It’s surprisingly sparse for a kid his age. I can count on one hand the posters, books and toys in his room. The bed has a blanket of a dog and a pillow with a Canadian Flag pillowcase. A laptop on the bed, stickers plastering it. Suits me just fine.
I’m hiding under the bed when Douglas gets home. A friend is with him, and I have a sandwich in my hands that I’m eating. Daytime completely muffles all my sounds so I can eat while listening to the kid. I like to know the kids that I’m supposed to terrorize. That sounds bad, but remember, doing so prepares them for their real world!
“She just uploaded a new video and let me tell you, it was hot! I wish I had a mom like that.”
Great, one of them likes to watch adult movies. As a Jiggaboo I can confirm, far fewer 13 year olds watch that stuff than people think. Most times it’s the older siblings who plants it on them so that their kid sibling and not them takes the heat.
“Trust me Steve,” Douglas said, throwing his backpack on the ground. “It’s not as fun as you think.”
I was in mid-chew when I heard that. I waited for a second then shook my head. That’s a weird statement. Not that it wasn’t true but it was still weird. I continue chewing.
“She did it again last night?” Steve asked.
I froze. I really hoped I wasn’t hearing what I was hearing.
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “Right after I got off the phone with Dad. She doesn’t do it when he’s around but he’s in Toronto for the week.”
“You can always call the police dude,” Steve said. “It’s not right.”
“You know what she tells them,” Douglas said, the misery in his voice making me pissed. “That I am mistaking her affection, that I watch too many of those movies you like to watch. They never believed me.”
There was silence. I felt the rage building inside. I’d heard tales from other Jiggaboo about such…such…. _monsters._ Who preyed on the innocence and defenselessness of their children. Many were the fathers but not all. It sickened me to the core and filled with a rage that refused to be squelched.
“I wish I could do something for you,” Steve said consolingly, “But what can I do? I’m just a kid!”
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “No one can help.”
Oh yes there was, I scowled. I would and could. It was time his mom got some of her own medicine.
|
Under the cover of sheets, I sat in wait under her bed. It had been months since I got assigned here, and so far I'd made little progress on the child; hell, my boss would kill me if he knew what was really going on. The child was scared, nearly every night, but was I ever the cause? Not quite.
The girl had been sleeping peacefully for the past hour, and in any normal case I would have already been trying to scare her. Society nowadays runs on fear, so someone had to be doing the dirty work. Yet every time I've tried to spook her has been fruitless. At first, it was confusion. Now all I could detect from her was boredom.
"Not even gonna try tonight?"
The voice from the covers caught me off guard. Turns out she wasn't asleep.
"Hrng."
"You know you don't need to be here, right? You don't scare me. Why stay?"
I didn't know how to reply. English was hard for me, being a monster under someone's bed, but I knew some basics. Still, it took me far longer than I'd like to admit to come up with an answer.
As I was about to speak back, a loud slam echoed through the halls of the house. Both of us knew what that meant.
"Honey, I'm home! Where's dinner?!"
He was home.
"You'd better have made something good, so help me god! I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit again!"
The stench of liquor seeped through the slots of her door, and I knew from his shouting and the smell that it was going to be another one of those nights.
"God, where is that bitch... Never around when she needs to be, always off doing fuckknowswhat! Fucking whore!"
Thud, thud, thud. Each step louder than the last. He was approaching.
"Lily, you better be awake. I don't want to deal with two stupid bitches tonight."
The sheets above me shuffled, and I took a guess of what was about to happen. The girl was hiding. That could only mean one thing.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I was getting tired of this routine.
Maybe it was time I stepped in. I've grown to like this girl over our shared time, despite how little we spoke.
The door opened, and my mind was made up.
|
|
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
TW- Insuniated themes of Child Abuse and Alcoholism.
If you are sensitive to these topics, please refrain from viewing this story.
​
​
​
*I am a monster.*
*I live in the shadows and I feed off of emotion.*
*And what better emotion is there, than that of the fear of a child that so easily frightens?*
.
.
.
.
It was a normal night. I had just slipped out of the bedroom window of a young girl named Cindy whom I've been terrorizing for the past week.
Cindy was a wailer, she wailed for her parents whenever I showed up, and her fear was just so delectable!
However, her wailing was starting to get boring and I needed some fresh emotions so I left.
I slipped into the shadows of an alleyway and began making my way across the town to find a new child to terrorize.
I roamed around for a while before I found a quaint house that held the scent of one adult woman and one young boy.
I smiled to myself as I slipped between the cracks of a bedroom window, ready to start exploring.
I soon found myself in a nice comfortable room with a study desk and bookshelves on one side and a bed and night stand on the other.
I started exploring the desk and found trophies on shelves and medals hanging from the wall. They ranged from sports to mathematics competitions as I surveyed them all.
Soon I came across a paper certificate with the name "Artemis" written on it.
Ah, Artemis is such a unique name, almost makes me feel bad about planning to terroize this kid.
Keyword, "almost"!
As I snickered to myself, I heard soft footsteps outside the bedroom door.
In a hurry, I darted into the shadows underneath the bed and waited.
Soon, the door opened, revealing a small child, no older than 9.
However, what shocked me the most was the state the child was in.
The child had multiple bruises in hard-to-see places and what apeared to be slashes across his skin.
I was horrified.
Even if I had seen my fair share of abusive homes, this sight was something I never could've imagined!
It only turned worse when the boy turned his back to me to close his door.
I could see painful bruises littering the back of his legs and small lacerations that were still bleeding.
I watched as the boy had walked towards the nightstand, trembling with each step, and pulled out a roll of bandages from the small drawer.
The boy then clumsily wrapped his wounds, all the while softly crying.
Who could ever do this?
The boy was clearly too young to be experiencing things like this...
As I was about to ponder more, a woman burst into the room, holding an empty bottle.
"There you aree\~! You little bratt\~!" The woman said, slurring on her words.
The child looked up at the woman in terror, dropping the bandages and backing up against the bed where I was.
The woman started swaying, bottle in hand, and started making her way towards the boy.
The child squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his small, oh so weak, hands.
As the woman, who I assumed to be the mother, albeit a pathetic excuse for one, raised her hand against him, I snapped.
I rose out of the shadows and grabbed her arm with my inky appendages.
She screamed as soon as she saw me, dropping the bottle in shock. She tried to tear her arm away from mine, but to no avail.
I stood as high as I could in accordance with the low ceiling, reaching up to 7 feet hunched over.
The woman continued to scream, but was soon silenced as I bit down, her limp body falling to the floor.
The taste of organic matter was as terrible as I first remembered it to be, but I digested it anyways.
I turned towards Artemis, ready to be shunned and feared as all little children tend to do when they see me, but what happened next suprised me.
I felt a small body of warmth collide with my cold one and I looked down.
To my suprise, I saw little Artemis, trying his best to hug me all the while crying.
In the midst of his crying he muttered out a single line that changed my life forever.
"T-thank," *sniff*, "you...."
.
.
.
.
I am a Monster.
I live with a boy named Artemis and I feed off of emotion.
I find the emotion of happiness to be the best the more I spend time with Artemis. I have watched him grow into a fine young man and got to see him find himself a spouse.
I have lived for many years and have forgotten many things, but there is one thing I will never forget.
**"Even if I am a Monster, that does not make me a** ***monster."***
|
Under the cover of sheets, I sat in wait under her bed. It had been months since I got assigned here, and so far I'd made little progress on the child; hell, my boss would kill me if he knew what was really going on. The child was scared, nearly every night, but was I ever the cause? Not quite.
The girl had been sleeping peacefully for the past hour, and in any normal case I would have already been trying to scare her. Society nowadays runs on fear, so someone had to be doing the dirty work. Yet every time I've tried to spook her has been fruitless. At first, it was confusion. Now all I could detect from her was boredom.
"Not even gonna try tonight?"
The voice from the covers caught me off guard. Turns out she wasn't asleep.
"Hrng."
"You know you don't need to be here, right? You don't scare me. Why stay?"
I didn't know how to reply. English was hard for me, being a monster under someone's bed, but I knew some basics. Still, it took me far longer than I'd like to admit to come up with an answer.
As I was about to speak back, a loud slam echoed through the halls of the house. Both of us knew what that meant.
"Honey, I'm home! Where's dinner?!"
He was home.
"You'd better have made something good, so help me god! I'm not in the mood to deal with your shit again!"
The stench of liquor seeped through the slots of her door, and I knew from his shouting and the smell that it was going to be another one of those nights.
"God, where is that bitch... Never around when she needs to be, always off doing fuckknowswhat! Fucking whore!"
Thud, thud, thud. Each step louder than the last. He was approaching.
"Lily, you better be awake. I don't want to deal with two stupid bitches tonight."
The sheets above me shuffled, and I took a guess of what was about to happen. The girl was hiding. That could only mean one thing.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I was getting tired of this routine.
Maybe it was time I stepped in. I've grown to like this girl over our shared time, despite how little we spoke.
The door opened, and my mind was made up.
|
|
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
I am a Jiggaboo. It might sound funny but in Monster Speak it basically “Shape Shifter”. We Jiggaboo have been around for a couple millennia now, hiding under the bed of all children. It’s a sacred duty, one in which we infuse the child with the strength to face the real world by having to deal with us nightly. We gain a benefit of adding to our stock of avatars we can use. I’m actually at a loss trying to count them.
So I wasn’t at all surprised that after Billie Jean grew up, it was time for a new assignment. I go to the Office of the Assignments, yeah, I know, cringe name. There I get my new assignment.
“Douglas Sparks,” the Assigner says. The voice sounds familiar but the Assigner is wearing the Avatar of a Slave whose Broken His Chains. Must be feeling a bit nostalgic for her days on the Antebellum South. “13 years old. Montreal.”
“Ah, Canada.” I say, affecting my best Canadian accent. “What am I this time? Ugly Ryan Reynolds? Justin Bieber whose moved back to Canada? An American? A moose who won’t let people ride him? The Canuck hockey team? Maple Syrup that’s not fresh? I’m still having issues from the last time I did that.”
“Nothing like that,” the Assigner says. “You are his mom.”
“His mom?” I frown. “That must be a joke.”
“No joke.”
“Must be afraid that she’ll take away his Maple Leafe Syrup if he doesn’t get good grades,” I grumble. “Moms are generally the comforting ones.”
Of course I still went. The Mrs’ is a vampire with an aversion to human blood, so it’s not like she gets a steady income. Being a Jiggaboo pays pretty well and you get double pay for hiding under the beds of boys.
So I wait until little Douglas is off to school. For Jiggaboo, it’s much easier entering a house in the daytime than at night. Homes have some real magicky guff that at night, monsters can’t get in. It’s why real vampires don’t actually attack people in their homes. That’s made up by the likes of Brom Stroker.
It’s a three bedroom house and everything looks normal. Pictures of the family, a very cute family of the parents and a single child. A few nice potted plants and the newest gaming systems stacked by a 100 inch tv. It’s clear that the family is loaded.
I go to the kids room. It’s surprisingly sparse for a kid his age. I can count on one hand the posters, books and toys in his room. The bed has a blanket of a dog and a pillow with a Canadian Flag pillowcase. A laptop on the bed, stickers plastering it. Suits me just fine.
I’m hiding under the bed when Douglas gets home. A friend is with him, and I have a sandwich in my hands that I’m eating. Daytime completely muffles all my sounds so I can eat while listening to the kid. I like to know the kids that I’m supposed to terrorize. That sounds bad, but remember, doing so prepares them for their real world!
“She just uploaded a new video and let me tell you, it was hot! I wish I had a mom like that.”
Great, one of them likes to watch adult movies. As a Jiggaboo I can confirm, far fewer 13 year olds watch that stuff than people think. Most times it’s the older siblings who plants it on them so that their kid sibling and not them takes the heat.
“Trust me Steve,” Douglas said, throwing his backpack on the ground. “It’s not as fun as you think.”
I was in mid-chew when I heard that. I waited for a second then shook my head. That’s a weird statement. Not that it wasn’t true but it was still weird. I continue chewing.
“She did it again last night?” Steve asked.
I froze. I really hoped I wasn’t hearing what I was hearing.
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “Right after I got off the phone with Dad. She doesn’t do it when he’s around but he’s in Toronto for the week.”
“You can always call the police dude,” Steve said. “It’s not right.”
“You know what she tells them,” Douglas said, the misery in his voice making me pissed. “That I am mistaking her affection, that I watch too many of those movies you like to watch. They never believed me.”
There was silence. I felt the rage building inside. I’d heard tales from other Jiggaboo about such…such…. _monsters._ Who preyed on the innocence and defenselessness of their children. Many were the fathers but not all. It sickened me to the core and filled with a rage that refused to be squelched.
“I wish I could do something for you,” Steve said consolingly, “But what can I do? I’m just a kid!”
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “No one can help.”
Oh yes there was, I scowled. I would and could. It was time his mom got some of her own medicine.
|
I'm the boogeyman.
A boogeyman, actually. There are a bunch of boogys. Not the best phrasing, but it will have to do.
Boogys are a strange lot. Everybody thinks we scare the shit out of kids. And we do...but not on purpose. The world is an aweful place, and bad things happen. We "monsters" have a deal with the Wizard. You call him Merlin.
We protect children, we are gifted corporeal form. Spirits like form. I also like form, but better than form is pizza. Pizza requires form. So I protect kids.
Joe Maginot punched his kid. I felt that from 394 yards from my nest. The Joe required my attention. I glanced longingly at the pizza I had stolen from a delivery driver's bike. The rags scattered into a rough circle gave me a warm place to eat pizza. It was good. The pepperoni steamed.
Nummy
Another strike fell on the child's head. Bad bad.
I shifted form into shadow, lurking in the biggest patch of darkness I could manage. The child's bed loomed above me. I sighed looked up and saw Joe punching his child. I didn't listen to why he did it. I didn't care.
Bad men pay. I get pizza.
Bonus points for untramatized babies. I reached a clawed hand out and gently teleported myself and the child to the street below. The girl screamed when her surroundings changed. Then she saw me, a big sack of bones covered in wilting flesh, dressed in rags. She screamed louder. No bonus points.
I teleported again, the father stumbled to the door. Drunk.
I tried the drunk before, pizza better.
I cleaved the man in two. His blood splattered across every surface in the room. It looked like tomato sauce. I like pizza. I paced to the phone on the wall, pressed the help buttons. 911. They didn't deliver pizza, but they help kids. Kids mean pizza, help numbers good.
I teleported back to my nest, pizza still warm. I devoured. I needed more pizza. The wizard said I could have pizza if I help kids. Wizard is good. Kids safe. Pizza is good.
|
|
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
TW- Insuniated themes of Child Abuse and Alcoholism.
If you are sensitive to these topics, please refrain from viewing this story.
​
​
​
*I am a monster.*
*I live in the shadows and I feed off of emotion.*
*And what better emotion is there, than that of the fear of a child that so easily frightens?*
.
.
.
.
It was a normal night. I had just slipped out of the bedroom window of a young girl named Cindy whom I've been terrorizing for the past week.
Cindy was a wailer, she wailed for her parents whenever I showed up, and her fear was just so delectable!
However, her wailing was starting to get boring and I needed some fresh emotions so I left.
I slipped into the shadows of an alleyway and began making my way across the town to find a new child to terrorize.
I roamed around for a while before I found a quaint house that held the scent of one adult woman and one young boy.
I smiled to myself as I slipped between the cracks of a bedroom window, ready to start exploring.
I soon found myself in a nice comfortable room with a study desk and bookshelves on one side and a bed and night stand on the other.
I started exploring the desk and found trophies on shelves and medals hanging from the wall. They ranged from sports to mathematics competitions as I surveyed them all.
Soon I came across a paper certificate with the name "Artemis" written on it.
Ah, Artemis is such a unique name, almost makes me feel bad about planning to terroize this kid.
Keyword, "almost"!
As I snickered to myself, I heard soft footsteps outside the bedroom door.
In a hurry, I darted into the shadows underneath the bed and waited.
Soon, the door opened, revealing a small child, no older than 9.
However, what shocked me the most was the state the child was in.
The child had multiple bruises in hard-to-see places and what apeared to be slashes across his skin.
I was horrified.
Even if I had seen my fair share of abusive homes, this sight was something I never could've imagined!
It only turned worse when the boy turned his back to me to close his door.
I could see painful bruises littering the back of his legs and small lacerations that were still bleeding.
I watched as the boy had walked towards the nightstand, trembling with each step, and pulled out a roll of bandages from the small drawer.
The boy then clumsily wrapped his wounds, all the while softly crying.
Who could ever do this?
The boy was clearly too young to be experiencing things like this...
As I was about to ponder more, a woman burst into the room, holding an empty bottle.
"There you aree\~! You little bratt\~!" The woman said, slurring on her words.
The child looked up at the woman in terror, dropping the bandages and backing up against the bed where I was.
The woman started swaying, bottle in hand, and started making her way towards the boy.
The child squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his small, oh so weak, hands.
As the woman, who I assumed to be the mother, albeit a pathetic excuse for one, raised her hand against him, I snapped.
I rose out of the shadows and grabbed her arm with my inky appendages.
She screamed as soon as she saw me, dropping the bottle in shock. She tried to tear her arm away from mine, but to no avail.
I stood as high as I could in accordance with the low ceiling, reaching up to 7 feet hunched over.
The woman continued to scream, but was soon silenced as I bit down, her limp body falling to the floor.
The taste of organic matter was as terrible as I first remembered it to be, but I digested it anyways.
I turned towards Artemis, ready to be shunned and feared as all little children tend to do when they see me, but what happened next suprised me.
I felt a small body of warmth collide with my cold one and I looked down.
To my suprise, I saw little Artemis, trying his best to hug me all the while crying.
In the midst of his crying he muttered out a single line that changed my life forever.
"T-thank," *sniff*, "you...."
.
.
.
.
I am a Monster.
I live with a boy named Artemis and I feed off of emotion.
I find the emotion of happiness to be the best the more I spend time with Artemis. I have watched him grow into a fine young man and got to see him find himself a spouse.
I have lived for many years and have forgotten many things, but there is one thing I will never forget.
**"Even if I am a Monster, that does not make me a** ***monster."***
|
I'm the boogeyman.
A boogeyman, actually. There are a bunch of boogys. Not the best phrasing, but it will have to do.
Boogys are a strange lot. Everybody thinks we scare the shit out of kids. And we do...but not on purpose. The world is an aweful place, and bad things happen. We "monsters" have a deal with the Wizard. You call him Merlin.
We protect children, we are gifted corporeal form. Spirits like form. I also like form, but better than form is pizza. Pizza requires form. So I protect kids.
Joe Maginot punched his kid. I felt that from 394 yards from my nest. The Joe required my attention. I glanced longingly at the pizza I had stolen from a delivery driver's bike. The rags scattered into a rough circle gave me a warm place to eat pizza. It was good. The pepperoni steamed.
Nummy
Another strike fell on the child's head. Bad bad.
I shifted form into shadow, lurking in the biggest patch of darkness I could manage. The child's bed loomed above me. I sighed looked up and saw Joe punching his child. I didn't listen to why he did it. I didn't care.
Bad men pay. I get pizza.
Bonus points for untramatized babies. I reached a clawed hand out and gently teleported myself and the child to the street below. The girl screamed when her surroundings changed. Then she saw me, a big sack of bones covered in wilting flesh, dressed in rags. She screamed louder. No bonus points.
I teleported again, the father stumbled to the door. Drunk.
I tried the drunk before, pizza better.
I cleaved the man in two. His blood splattered across every surface in the room. It looked like tomato sauce. I like pizza. I paced to the phone on the wall, pressed the help buttons. 911. They didn't deliver pizza, but they help kids. Kids mean pizza, help numbers good.
I teleported back to my nest, pizza still warm. I devoured. I needed more pizza. The wizard said I could have pizza if I help kids. Wizard is good. Kids safe. Pizza is good.
|
|
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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The entire house is shaking like an earthquake as the police kick at the door. The child is sound asleep its one of my many powers that help me move about the house. He's seen horrors that even I cant inflict on mortals. Grown up too fast in his 12 years on this plane of existence. His mother has been declining mentally far too fast and its taken a toll on him since his father left. The verbal abuse is what fuels me with anger and I give the woman the most fearful dreams to feed on. Not even I can inflict that kind of pain on a child purposely. Striking fear into his heart with every raised hand. No Ive grown sick of it. Her dreams arent worth the meals anymore. Ever since they moved here her dreams have turned sour as hatred for the child grew.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Sherriff's department open up now!"
I can hear the door frame cracking with each kick. I dont care if they see me Im ending this now once and for all. I carefully rise my head to the ceiling and surprise myself as I sing the child a song. One I hear him cry himself to sleep at night singing to forget the pain of the day.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
"I said open up! We want to end this peacefully!"
As I sing the last verse I open the child's eyes seeing what he sees. One step. Then two. Slowly I see the blood and wipe that memory from his mind. On the third step I smell the gunpowder and replace it with the smell of a BBQ he enjoyed on his 10th birthday. The last good memory of his father even makes me smile.
"We're in! Go! Go! Go!"
I make everyone in the house grab their ears as I shriek with his throat and lungs as loud as I can giving more power than I have ever used. Step five and six I bring his mother back from death. I want to end her on my terms.
"Get down now!"
Step seven I jump from his body to his mother's and the child falls to the ground below shooting level.
"I said get down! Get down now!"
I slash the throat of the nearest officer and roar even louder. Grab the next one and toss him like a rag doll. Step twelve I feel the bullets in her chest and bring her back from death again. Making her relive every bad dream. Every regretted choice. Force her to remember every smile on her child's face. Make her feel every hit she gave him.
"Officers down! Call for medics! I said get down now!"
Step thirteen I make her stop and laugh. I throw our heads back and howl as I show her the BBQ and the night her husband walked out on her. Make her experience that moment over and over as lunge at the loud officer.
As he shoots her I take over his body next.
"Never again Lucy. Never again shall you hurt him. Make his days filled with fear and night full of sorrow." I look deep in her dying eyes and shush her gargling. "Dont worry Im keeping your soul right here with me. I'll never walk out on you and you can hate me forever. I can take it."
"Oh dear God. Grab the kid! Someone get the kid!"
I look into the eyes of the officer as I drag the mother under the bed with me.
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“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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How strange, isn’t it, that I used to live not too far from where I am now? And how strange that such a short distance away there once lived a well loved and cared for child whose delectable fear kept me strong and without need. How strange that it is so different for this little one- the dark eyed child I have chosen to sustain me.
I had a good thing going over there, you know. At my old house. It’s a shame what happened to that kid but that’s not my business and what’s done is done. But I do miss what I had: nightly feedings, a child not old enough to put language to what it is living under his wooden bed frame and *carpet*. Nice, plush carpet, cleaned regularly by a doting woman who smelled sickeningly of lavender.
I stayed there for a while, after. His parents, stricken by the omnipresent black orb of grief, couldn’t go into his room after the accident so I was able to get a few years of primo sleep, burning through the energy I had meticulously extracted from the small boy. Sometimes they would wake me with the sudden heat of a human fight, accusations and impossible questions hitting the air like lightening taking to a tree and leaving it burning, burning, burning up what was left of their family. Sometimes I would awaken to the guttural wailing of the woman, who I noticed no longer smelled like anything other than a torment I could not eat. I left when my hunger returned.
And now, I do not lay on carpet at night. I lay on the cold, filthy hardwood of a new room. I know we are in what is supposed to be the dining room. I know that a child’s bed- anyone’s bed- is not supposed to be in this room, but this, too, is not my business. Or it wasn’t. I don’t know what is or isn’t anymore.
It’s daytime but I cannot sleep. I’m watching the bored bounce of two small feet hanging off the side of the bed, the bottoms of which are completely black from navigating sordid floors, carefully avoiding nails and screws and whatever the fuck else is scattered throughout this house. It’s not normal for me not to be able to sleep during the day. And it’s not normal for me, a hedonist and a sloth, to choose such abysmal living conditions. It’s not normal for me to prey on a cunning, manipulative child with siblings. And I know that where we are, how they live, is not normal.
None of this is fucking normal.
I chose her because I am lazy and she’s consistent. I could smell her from miles away. She provides a constant feast for me, a turbulent and constant river of fear I don’t need to do anything to dive into other than simply exist below her. In fact, I have not even introduced myself to her. There is no need. She is constantly afraid. I can even taste what it is that she fears: her father’s fits of rage, her brother’s hard fists and cruel whims, someone coming into the house and witnessing her neglect and shame, the spiders and other things (she thinks I or one of my kind live down there) hiding in the squalid basement where the only toilet is, the refrigerator and sink full of rotting food, or, most deliciously, being stuck in this place forever.
I have only been here for three months and have acquired enough energy to sleep for roughly two years, all without lifting a finger. But I am tired of living like this. And then, suddenly, I do something I have never done, something I did not know I could do: I imagine how *she* feels. This makes my face feel hot and I have this rushing feeling that I have to believe feels like what falling, or maybe nausea, feels like and I am dizzy with- what is that? Sorrow?
I watch her feet until she pulls them to her and I look directly up, imagining her sitting on that foul mattress with no sheets. Other than this, I am thoughtless. The night comes. The disgraceful family routines commence. I finally hear the lull of the children breathing and the screeching snore of their father in the adjacent room. In an instant I know that we have to fucking go.
It is easy to take a child’s scream. It is easy to suspend their breath, freeze them in shock, subdue them so as to drink from them. But I don’t want to drink from her anymore. I watch her face contort in the darkness as I suddenly fall upon her, from surprise, to terror, to a forlorn hopelessness. These things once tasted so good in my mouth. I scoop her up as gently as possible, which I know is not gentle at all, but I do not know how to be nice to her. I do not know how to make this easy for her. I stretch my body into an expanse of darkness that the eyes of adults cannot detect, wrap myself around her like a cloak, the river of her fear now a deluge that stifles any sound she might make. I feel her faint.
Why did I do this? I am running, thoughtlessly, and I am panicking. What am I to do with her? There is no solution for us. I have stolen a child and I have no plan. What if I inadvertently I kill her? What if I take her somewhere worse? I am running, running, running, desperate to get her anywhere but *there*, desperate to get away from her, my lungs burning with everything I do not know. And then- suddenly- we are on the front porch of my old house. I am not just holding her anymore, I am hugging her, knowing she is not safe with me but terrified to let her go, and we are breathing. I vaguely wonder if my fear will sustain her as the remembrance of lavender and carpet overtakes me and I am sure that they will know what to do.
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“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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Nope.
I'm not gonna do it.
See? Bc this is so bad that even I don't understand...
I've NEVER had an assignment like this!
It was probably Larry in Monster Resources that thought it would be funny to stick me with THIS job.
Ugh! Dang it Larry!
(He was named appropriately by the way. Because he's a real "Larry" if you know what I mean!)
Anyway back to my assignment! I'm on my way to the house right now. But tonight it's gonna be different.
Tonight? I'll be moving my things to the parents room...
Tonight? Were *really* gonna have some fun.
Fun like I've never had in my entire career.
First let me explain.
My name is Balbador. And, I'm m not just your average, run of the mill 'Monster Under The Bed'.
Nuh-uh. Nope. You're talking to the best!
In fact, I have been 'Monster of the Month' for 5 years running!
So let it suffice to say that, I do know what I'm doing at work.
And that's my point! Lately my job seems to have taken a turn.
In fact, I don't even get to do my job anymore - not since I was assigned to THIS little boy.
It used to be so easy! So simple! But with THIS kid? I'm starting to question everything.
Okay, you dont get it. Ugh.
So let me just start at the beginning...
Okay so, 3 nights ago I was given a new assignment (because my last assignment turned 11 and we don't handle clients over 11 years old).
Anyway, my new kid was 6. His name is James. James Gray.
He has a Mom and a Stepdad, he lives in Alabama, USA, and he has 2 older siblings and a new baby sister.
Usually these are the easiest gigs!
No real Dad in the home?
Multiple siblings so that my client rarely gets attention...
New baby Sister?
AND he's 6?
I mean, this gig seemed like a breeze on paper!
So? Easy - peasy, right?
Well, that's what I thought.
Until I clocked in and got to work.
The first night I usually start out easy, ya know?
I don't want to elicit pure panic the very first night.
That's why my colleagues never get noticed.
No, if you work slower, let it build...
Oh yeah... that's the sweetest thing!
Because the slower the build, the more pure the adrenaline and - therefore - the better my ratings!
Anyway, as I said... I usually start out slow.
Just the usual... the smallest sound in a dark room, repeat every 30 seconds... job accomplished!
Right?
Except No. Not right. Not with this one.
So, as usual, I clung to the exposed springs in the worn out mattress, just waiting for James to turn of the light (can't have shadows under the bed until he gets into into ut obviously) and then he gets in his bed... well... I overheard some things.
To an extent Ive never heard before.
Honestly? I didn't even realize this type of thing could be real! I mean, since when do the parents torment the kids more than me?
And you can believe me when I say I've seen and heard a lot! But this time? Well, this time the parents really crossed some lines - and put my job in serious jeopardy!!!
"Just get out of my SIGHT you piece of crap!"
"Didn't you hear your Mother? Boy you don't want me to come over there! I swear to God I'll take off my belt again and you won't won't know what hit you!"
Less than 2 seconds later I heard someone get up out of a squeaky chair, stomp across the floor, then the sound of leather ripping away from cloth, and then a CRRAAACCCKK!!! - louder than anything I think ice ever heard! It also followed by a sob and a scream that was unearthly yet more real than I've heard before in any realm!
The Snap! The Crack! That SOUND!!! And then the SOBS that came from the child... Well, I don't have the words to explain it but I will say it was something brand new to me.
In fact, it awoke something inside me.
Something instinctual. Something so deep down that I didn't know it was possible.
And so, hours pater when the child finally came to bed, no longer crying - only gasping every 3 seconds with each breath, I realized what I'd have to do.
I could smell blood. I could smell the old that escaped his body and that which was currently pooling inside his body - I could smell the bruises. Not to mention the burnt flesh that was accompanied with a hint of tobacco.
I could also smell that he had wet himself.
So what the heck was I supposed to do now?
There was no way I could do any good with this kid at this point.
He's already terrified with nowhere to run...
He's already peed.
What else could I do?
And I mean, the best part is usually when my kid runs to their parents who then come back and "check the room for monsters". Ha! You gotta love that part!
But with THIS kid? There's nothing I can really do to top the fear he experiences during the day.
So I came up with the idea that I could still complete my task - just with the parents!
The 2nd night I spent observing them and their routines and I tries to make a mental note of their insecurities and all that...
But tonight? Oh tonight I will reach celebrity status. After tonight, I will be promoted to CEO!
Oh the things I plan to do to these parents?
Well, first I plan to -
Shh! Sorry! I gotta go now! They are coming to bed.
Oh this is going to be GOOD.
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“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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TW- Insuniated themes of Child Abuse and Alcoholism.
If you are sensitive to these topics, please refrain from viewing this story.
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*I am a monster.*
*I live in the shadows and I feed off of emotion.*
*And what better emotion is there, than that of the fear of a child that so easily frightens?*
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It was a normal night. I had just slipped out of the bedroom window of a young girl named Cindy whom I've been terrorizing for the past week.
Cindy was a wailer, she wailed for her parents whenever I showed up, and her fear was just so delectable!
However, her wailing was starting to get boring and I needed some fresh emotions so I left.
I slipped into the shadows of an alleyway and began making my way across the town to find a new child to terrorize.
I roamed around for a while before I found a quaint house that held the scent of one adult woman and one young boy.
I smiled to myself as I slipped between the cracks of a bedroom window, ready to start exploring.
I soon found myself in a nice comfortable room with a study desk and bookshelves on one side and a bed and night stand on the other.
I started exploring the desk and found trophies on shelves and medals hanging from the wall. They ranged from sports to mathematics competitions as I surveyed them all.
Soon I came across a paper certificate with the name "Artemis" written on it.
Ah, Artemis is such a unique name, almost makes me feel bad about planning to terroize this kid.
Keyword, "almost"!
As I snickered to myself, I heard soft footsteps outside the bedroom door.
In a hurry, I darted into the shadows underneath the bed and waited.
Soon, the door opened, revealing a small child, no older than 9.
However, what shocked me the most was the state the child was in.
The child had multiple bruises in hard-to-see places and what apeared to be slashes across his skin.
I was horrified.
Even if I had seen my fair share of abusive homes, this sight was something I never could've imagined!
It only turned worse when the boy turned his back to me to close his door.
I could see painful bruises littering the back of his legs and small lacerations that were still bleeding.
I watched as the boy had walked towards the nightstand, trembling with each step, and pulled out a roll of bandages from the small drawer.
The boy then clumsily wrapped his wounds, all the while softly crying.
Who could ever do this?
The boy was clearly too young to be experiencing things like this...
As I was about to ponder more, a woman burst into the room, holding an empty bottle.
"There you aree\~! You little bratt\~!" The woman said, slurring on her words.
The child looked up at the woman in terror, dropping the bandages and backing up against the bed where I was.
The woman started swaying, bottle in hand, and started making her way towards the boy.
The child squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his small, oh so weak, hands.
As the woman, who I assumed to be the mother, albeit a pathetic excuse for one, raised her hand against him, I snapped.
I rose out of the shadows and grabbed her arm with my inky appendages.
She screamed as soon as she saw me, dropping the bottle in shock. She tried to tear her arm away from mine, but to no avail.
I stood as high as I could in accordance with the low ceiling, reaching up to 7 feet hunched over.
The woman continued to scream, but was soon silenced as I bit down, her limp body falling to the floor.
The taste of organic matter was as terrible as I first remembered it to be, but I digested it anyways.
I turned towards Artemis, ready to be shunned and feared as all little children tend to do when they see me, but what happened next suprised me.
I felt a small body of warmth collide with my cold one and I looked down.
To my suprise, I saw little Artemis, trying his best to hug me all the while crying.
In the midst of his crying he muttered out a single line that changed my life forever.
"T-thank," *sniff*, "you...."
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I am a Monster.
I live with a boy named Artemis and I feed off of emotion.
I find the emotion of happiness to be the best the more I spend time with Artemis. I have watched him grow into a fine young man and got to see him find himself a spouse.
I have lived for many years and have forgotten many things, but there is one thing I will never forget.
**"Even if I am a Monster, that does not make me a** ***monster."***
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“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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TW: CSA, abuse
Aster returns to his room, whimpering again. He’s scared. The birther. The stranger. The real monster. She has been doing this all his life and he doesn’t know anything else. I’ve lived for hundreds of years under the beds of many, many children, but few children are raised by someone this vile, this detestable, this grotesque. Her form enters the room, her silhouette towering over my little baby boy, she exhales sharply and he cowers under his covers.
She raises her hand as if to hit him, then…gently pats his back before turning and leaving the room. The liar. The seductress. The love bomber. This means she has done her unspeakable acts on him for the day and wants him to act like he’s okay. As long as the boy lives here, I cannot get out from under his bed. I am too small to reach out and grab her from here. I will die immediately if I try getting out. And then who will look out for my baby?
We chat. We talk and tell stories and jokes until the sweet boy falls asleep. We do this every night. He has been hurt by her in one way or another every single day since he was born. I remember every slap, every cigarette burn, every freezing night out when my boy came to bed in shambles, if he came at all. I’ve always told him stories, sang to him, listened to him. This is what we do before he falls asleep each night.
Now that he’s four, I think he can handle his part in this. Tonight I’m talking to him about his day. How she left him with her “clients” who then hurt him in the most unimaginable ways. How, when he screamed upon seeing their members approached his mouth, she swatted him. How all he could do was cry and take what they gave to him. My baby shows me bruises on his legs from trying to run and kick at them. He softly sobs as he tells me how badly his jaw hurts.
“Sweet one,” I say when he stops using his words, “do you think you are ready to do something for me?” He sniffles, and amidst sobs he says, “I had… to do …so much today. I cannot do anything more”. “Okay lovey, you don’t have to do it tonight. But I want her to stop hurting you. And I could make it happen. I need your help.” “No I can’t! I told you I can’t!” “Okay, okay honey, nor today, I will ask about this again when you feel stronger.”
He is not ready yet. That is okay. We will try again.
•••••••••
It’s almost bedtime. His fifth birthday. I’m waiting for him. He enters the room, tired but he’s not sobbing or whimpering like usual. He slides into bed and under his covers. “Did you do anything fun today?” I ask. He tells me he got a tiny piece of cake, and that he got to eat human food unlike his usual dog food and multivitamins. He says it tasted amazing and he wishes he could hold that taste on his tongue forever. Perhaps today he is ready. “Hey, Aster?” “Yeah?” “Can I ask you for a favor?” “Yes but maybe I can’t do it.” “That’s okay honey. I just want you to hear me out right now.” “Ok,” he’s listening now.
“Do you think you could get the monster lady to come close to the bed? Like maybe with a foot or a hand under the bed?” I am a fire demon. I may be tiny but if she exposes any part of herself to me, I can burn her down to a crisp. He tells me he will try. Someday. That’s good enough for me.
••••••••••
It is thanksgiving weekend. The end of this weekend is always a busy time for him…with her clients. Ugh it makes me shudder to think about them. Today he comes in early. He’s running as fast as he possibly can and he immediately slides under the bed. “I bit him!!” He says, exhilarated. “She’s coming!” “ASTER!!” I hear her yell as she comes up the stairs. “You will pay for this!” she growls. “Oh you will pay dearly. You can’t hide from me, I saw you go into your room!”
As she enters, I can see a red hot iron ladle in her hand. She wanted to burn him. The only way I can hurt her is the perfect way to punish her. He will not burn, she will. She looks around the room, under his covers, behind the curtains, then she says in a singsong voice “I know you’re under the bed…I’m coming after you”. She bends over and sticks her head and arm under the bed. I grab her face. Immediately burning her. “RUN ASTER!” I shout. “You will get hurt if you stay here. Run and don’t come back. No matter where you go, I promise I’ll find you again. I’ll always be here for you. Always.” As his little body scampers off out of the room, I focus my powers more. I intensify the fire burning her. I pull her body closer. Under the bed she comes. The flames are licking up at the wooden bed frame. They are licking down at the ugly carpet. Everything is burning. Slowly, the fire spreads. Slowly, she is burnt to a crisp. I ensure none of her remains. I make sure even the bones are gone. Once she is fully burned and turned into ashes, I go through the house, burning everything, everything except proof of her abuse. The knives she specifically used only to make cuts on him. The iron ladle that my baby will recognize. And most importantly, pictures. Pictures of her. Of him. Of them. Pictures of my baby being hurt. Pictures of the bruises and cuts and burns on his skin that she used to threaten him with. “I will do this to you again,” she would say. And she would. Secretly taken pictures of the men she used to rent him to. These items I put in a dutch oven. Where they will heat up but they will not burn. Then I go all over the house. I burn the railing on the stairs. All of the furniture. Every single thing she owned. She is gone. The humans will deal with the men. I have to go look for my boy now. I do not know where he might have gone. He does not know this world. He has never been outside of this house before. I will find you Aster. Just wait. Nobody can ever hurt you like this again.
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“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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I heard the child sniffling again as he crawled under the covers, doing his best not to give voice to his pain for fear of bringing his father’s wrath down on him, again.
I have lived under his bed for three years, and I know that in this house, I am not the monster, here.
. . .
"DAMNIT YOU LITTLE BRAT, I TOLD YOU NOT TO BE NOISY!"
"I'M SORRY DADDY! I'M SORRY! I PROMISE I'LL BE --AAAAAAAAARGH!"
I heard this from my position under the boy's bed. My hearing is quite acute, as is my night vision. Once again, the screams of pain reverberated through the house as the boy's father vented his rage and anger upon his offspring. The boy’s screams were cut off, replaced by the \*slap* sound of skin hitting skin as his father gave him more bruises.
He was a devious one, the father. He hit the boy on the torso and legs, where they would not show when he went to work, and the boy, school. He used his fists, and often employed a length of rubber hose or a leather belt as well, so the marks would be temporary and fade quickly.
...the damage to the boy's mind and soul, however, was far more lasting and hurtful. Everywhere he walked in the house, he kept his eyes downcast. I never heard him laugh, nor did I see him smile as other children did.
"WHEN I SAID BE QUIET, I MEAN \*BE QUIET!* IT'S YOUR FAULT YOUR MOTHER LEFT US!"
"BUT DADDY, YOU--"
"DON'T BACKTALK ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'M YOUR DAMNED FATHER!"
...and the beatings continued, \*smack!* \*smack!* \*smack!* as the boy did his best to keep silent, often by biting into his own hand hard enough to draw blood.
The concluded as they always did, with the boy creeping into his room, tears streaming down his cheeks. Some nights, he prayed his whispered prayers that someone would take him away to a wonderful place where he had a father and mother who loved him. Other nights, he prayed that a foul creature would kill his father to end his torment.
Houses full of strong emotions like love and happiness --and their opposites, hatred and anguish-- draw me like a moth to a bright light. That is how I came to reside under the child's bed, with every intention of giving him nightmares, and making him fear the dark.
...Until I realized that the poor thing had plenty to fear already.
. . .
Me, I am a creature of shadow, nightmares, and hatred given form. To understand hatred, anger, and fear, I also understood their opposites: Love, joy, and bravery. I knew the concepts of what make a happy, joyful house, and I knew what it took to drive a sliver of fear into that joy: A creaking floorboard here, a cold wind there, a thump where people did not expect one. I knew it, I did it in other houses as I hid under other beds, and I planned on doing it here...until I saw what kind of family this was.
The husband, unfulfilled in his life and watching his dreams die, drove away his wife through his anger and revulsion of the person he turned out to be. He saw his child not as a thing of joy, but a reminder of crushed dreams and ambitions put on hold. He came to resent the boy.
The miserable, sad boy, who did nothing to deserve this.
He did not deserve it at all.
I was saddened and angered, at the same time: Saddened at what was being done to the boy, and angered by the father who beat him.
I began to hate that father. He did not deserve that title at all.
. . .
Another night. More anger, more tears, more sounds of regret given form through fists and weapons.
"IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I COULD NOT GO TO COLLEGE! YOUR MOTHER DIDN'T WANT TO ABORT, SO I HAD TO GET A JOB TO FEED YOUR UNGRATEFUL MOUTH!"
"DADDY! PLEASE DADDY! I'M SORRY DADDY! I--"
"SHUT UP!" \*smack!* \*smack!* \*smack!*
A half-hour later, the child came into his room, and crawled under his covers, sniffling.
"Please, make daddy stop...please..." he pleaded to a deity that either was not listening, or worse, enjoyed his suffering.
"Please...I'll do anything, please just make him stop..."
The deity he prayed his whispered prayers to may not have listened or cared, but\*I* was listening.
...and I was prepared to do what that deity would not.
. . .
The father's bed was large, and underneath it was empty. It was easy to hide my form underneath it. The room it occupied smelled of neglect and sadness: sweaty clothes that were not washed littered the floor, paint on the walls and ceiling that was chipped and flaking, and upon a dresser were ancient sports trophies that were cobwebbed; their glory, forgotten. It was a room that was a shrine to self-loathing.
I sat under the bed and waited.
. . .
His heavy boots stomp-stomp-stomped into the room. From my vantage point, I saw him remove them, then his socks, followed by jeans sloughing off onto the floor, and a t-shirt that descended onto the hardwood floor next to the crumpled pile of jeans.
"Damn kid," he muttered. "I swear I need to beat some sense into him. Make him tough." He muttered as the bedsprings above me creaked, the familiar sounds of a body shifting positions to get comfortable. "Gotta...make him...tough...." he muttered as he drifted off.
I took this moment to scuttle out from under the bed, my six legs moving with silent haste. I crept up onto the bed, and beheld the child's tormentor: A man, about forty-odd years old, clad in stained, off-white underwear. Stubble on a chin that needed shaving, and hair might have once been thick and long in youth, now receding, lank, and thin. His body was fat due to a diet of TV dinners that he had the boy heat up, followed by consuming too much alcohol.
I loathed this man. I loathed what he became, what he was, and moreover, what he did to the boy. I held back the urge to claw out his throat, and bathe in his stinking blood, relishing with glee in the fact that he would never strike his child again.
Instead, I crept over to him, and using five of my limbs, bound his body so he would not move. The sixth I used to cover his mouth so he would not scream when he saw my face.
I watched his eyes pop open, wide with terror. He attempted to struggle, but I held him fast. I grinned, showing him a mouth full of fangs as my six eyes gazed into his two. His muted screams were smothered by clawed hand covering his mouth.
Seeing his abject fear made me happy. Good, I thought. For once, \*you* are the one who fears in this house.
"Silence, man. If you make a noise, I will tear out your tongue and feed it to you. Do you think I am bluffing?" I hissed, my forked tongue licking my fangs.
"Mmmm-mmmm," he replied behind my clawed hand, and shook his head with vigor. I smelled the sudden foul smell of human waste; he had soiled his underpants in his terror.
"Good. Now listen to me: You will cease hitting your child. Your failures are not his to bear. Am I understood?"
"Mmmm-hmmm!" He gave a robust nod in the affirmative.
"You will love him. You will show him kindness and compassion. You will delight in his victories, and console him in his defeats. You will be the father he should have, instead of the disgusting, sad man I see in front of me now. Do you hear me?"
"Mmmm-hmmm!" he nodded again; eyes still wide, still fearful.
"You will give him a happy childhood. Because if you do not..." and at this, I brought my face closer so my six eyes stared into his two, unblinking, "I swear to you that the hell I will put you through will make you wish you had died in the womb. Do you understand me?"
His eyes, now full of tears, stared back into mine as he nodded furiously, as I felt his head bob up and down under man hand again.
"Good," I replied as I released my clawed hand from his lips, his breath heaving as his chest rose and descended in rapid breaths. "I am going back under your bed. Do not try to look for me; you will never see me. But remember this..."And I brought my face close to his again, fangs bared:
"I will \*always* see you."
...and with that, I got up, and crawled back under the bed, to the sound of the man's tears and prayers to the same god the little boy prayed to each night.
. . .
There I sat, and waited with patience, to see if a monster had turned another monster into a father.
|
“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
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“NO PLEASE DON’T HURT HER, PLEASE SHE’S JUST A KID!” “SH- SHUT UP *burp* BI***” I winced at the sound of the girls screams. This was the end of the madness. I couldn’t let it stand. When the father finally left the room, I slowly arose out from under her bed. “W- who are you? What are you?” She asked, whimpering. “I am your guardian angel.” In all reality I was just a lowly monster but I didn’t want to frighten her. “Where does your father sleep?” I asked “Why do you want to know?” She asked. “I just want to talk with him.” I said, trying to hold in all of my rage. “In the room around the corner.” She replied. “Thank you. You may rest now.” I walked around the corner with my body shifting into my true form. I held two of my four arms around his mouth so he wouldn’t scream. I dragged him into the backyard. What happened next I am strictly prohibited to write down as of my employers made me sign a waiver. I went back into the girls room and explained that I had a simple talk with him and he would start acting different tomorrow. I went back under her bed, falling asleep.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
Nope.
I'm not gonna do it.
See? Bc this is so bad that even I don't understand...
I've NEVER had an assignment like this!
It was probably Larry in Monster Resources that thought it would be funny to stick me with THIS job.
Ugh! Dang it Larry!
(He was named appropriately by the way. Because he's a real "Larry" if you know what I mean!)
Anyway back to my assignment! I'm on my way to the house right now. But tonight it's gonna be different.
Tonight? I'll be moving my things to the parents room...
Tonight? Were *really* gonna have some fun.
Fun like I've never had in my entire career.
First let me explain.
My name is Balbador. And, I'm m not just your average, run of the mill 'Monster Under The Bed'.
Nuh-uh. Nope. You're talking to the best!
In fact, I have been 'Monster of the Month' for 5 years running!
So let it suffice to say that, I do know what I'm doing at work.
And that's my point! Lately my job seems to have taken a turn.
In fact, I don't even get to do my job anymore - not since I was assigned to THIS little boy.
It used to be so easy! So simple! But with THIS kid? I'm starting to question everything.
Okay, you dont get it. Ugh.
So let me just start at the beginning...
Okay so, 3 nights ago I was given a new assignment (because my last assignment turned 11 and we don't handle clients over 11 years old).
Anyway, my new kid was 6. His name is James. James Gray.
He has a Mom and a Stepdad, he lives in Alabama, USA, and he has 2 older siblings and a new baby sister.
Usually these are the easiest gigs!
No real Dad in the home?
Multiple siblings so that my client rarely gets attention...
New baby Sister?
AND he's 6?
I mean, this gig seemed like a breeze on paper!
So? Easy - peasy, right?
Well, that's what I thought.
Until I clocked in and got to work.
The first night I usually start out easy, ya know?
I don't want to elicit pure panic the very first night.
That's why my colleagues never get noticed.
No, if you work slower, let it build...
Oh yeah... that's the sweetest thing!
Because the slower the build, the more pure the adrenaline and - therefore - the better my ratings!
Anyway, as I said... I usually start out slow.
Just the usual... the smallest sound in a dark room, repeat every 30 seconds... job accomplished!
Right?
Except No. Not right. Not with this one.
So, as usual, I clung to the exposed springs in the worn out mattress, just waiting for James to turn of the light (can't have shadows under the bed until he gets into into ut obviously) and then he gets in his bed... well... I overheard some things.
To an extent Ive never heard before.
Honestly? I didn't even realize this type of thing could be real! I mean, since when do the parents torment the kids more than me?
And you can believe me when I say I've seen and heard a lot! But this time? Well, this time the parents really crossed some lines - and put my job in serious jeopardy!!!
"Just get out of my SIGHT you piece of crap!"
"Didn't you hear your Mother? Boy you don't want me to come over there! I swear to God I'll take off my belt again and you won't won't know what hit you!"
Less than 2 seconds later I heard someone get up out of a squeaky chair, stomp across the floor, then the sound of leather ripping away from cloth, and then a CRRAAACCCKK!!! - louder than anything I think ice ever heard! It also followed by a sob and a scream that was unearthly yet more real than I've heard before in any realm!
The Snap! The Crack! That SOUND!!! And then the SOBS that came from the child... Well, I don't have the words to explain it but I will say it was something brand new to me.
In fact, it awoke something inside me.
Something instinctual. Something so deep down that I didn't know it was possible.
And so, hours pater when the child finally came to bed, no longer crying - only gasping every 3 seconds with each breath, I realized what I'd have to do.
I could smell blood. I could smell the old that escaped his body and that which was currently pooling inside his body - I could smell the bruises. Not to mention the burnt flesh that was accompanied with a hint of tobacco.
I could also smell that he had wet himself.
So what the heck was I supposed to do now?
There was no way I could do any good with this kid at this point.
He's already terrified with nowhere to run...
He's already peed.
What else could I do?
And I mean, the best part is usually when my kid runs to their parents who then come back and "check the room for monsters". Ha! You gotta love that part!
But with THIS kid? There's nothing I can really do to top the fear he experiences during the day.
So I came up with the idea that I could still complete my task - just with the parents!
The 2nd night I spent observing them and their routines and I tries to make a mental note of their insecurities and all that...
But tonight? Oh tonight I will reach celebrity status. After tonight, I will be promoted to CEO!
Oh the things I plan to do to these parents?
Well, first I plan to -
Shh! Sorry! I gotta go now! They are coming to bed.
Oh this is going to be GOOD.
|
My job was simple. Take their fear. Until I got her case. Everyone who has had her failed to siphon fear. Most of the monsters who were forced to the case quit if they had to.
And now it's my turn. So be it.
Every case I had ever done was a breeze. Get in, find out the thing they are scared of the most, use it in spades, and get out before the kid realizes what's happening. This time around... I feel it won't work. So for now, for once, siphoning fear- my literal job- is gonna have to take a backseat.
Right now... I have to know why.
The door to her room opened quickly, yet quietly. I watched her step on every single soft looking toy between the door and her bed, making almost no noise in the process. In contrast, the noise outside the walls was... Extreme, chaotic, and uncaring. The child said nothing as she climbed into bed, even as I touched her leg on the way up. Reader didn't even blip.
Slowly, over the next 3 days, I watched carefully. Nothing seemed to scare this kid. Not the spider in the corner, not the scratches I put on the walls, nothing worked. On day 4 though... I found it.
She crawled into bed, same as usual. Less than 30 minutes later she panics, and goes to hide in the closet. Right as I was beginning to wonder why, the light turns on and in walks... I'm not too sure what that thing was. On one hand, the thing looked like a brick was given arms, legs, and almost nothing else. He came in, rambling something about a pain in his ass, and then started... Looking... For her. My reader began going hysterical. Nothing I have ever done to any child prior has ever made the reader act this much. I prepared the siphon and activated it just in time for him to reach the closet.
The first thing I heard was the whimper. Then something hit the wall. And as I peeked just enough to see what was happening... I understood.
All I had to do was take this kids fear. This... Thing... Was making it. I'm not sure when I decided enough was enough, but it must have been somewhere between the cigar burn and the loud snapping sound followed by a scream so loud it broke my reader. I retreated, leaving the siphoner. It's gonna help me with what I must do next.
I reached the case manager just as he was about to go home for the night.
"Sir, Sir, I need an extension on my case. Once I'm done with this case, declare it unusable."
"Are you insane? There are no unusable cases here. Plus, you, our best worker, just met 3 weeks of quotas in 1 day with a case nobody else could even touch, wh-"
"And yet I'm not there, but the siphon is still pulling, why do you think that is, boss?"
He went to put a finger up to protest, only to find his arm yanked away as I dragged his scrawny, pencil-pushing ass through the Path, into the room. He watched the child laying there. Burn marks adorn the arm he could see. Blood pouring from where the hair meets the eye, her clothes torn and burned, her skin blackened and battered like some kind of living punching bag. The sight provoked an emotion I didn't think I could feel.
I turned and locked eyes with my boss, and he watched in stunned silence. His eyes never looked away from the child.
"Do it, Fade. Take as long as you need." Was the only words he could muster as he passed through the Path again.
With a heavy heart, I slowly, but far from quietly, crawled out from the bed. Through bloody eyes, defeat was plastered on her face as she watched me crawl forth, loud enough to wake her warden.
As the lights flashed on again, my gaze turned to the monster shaped like her father. He tried to run, only for his foot to catch on one of her well-placed toys.
As I dragged him back into the room, screaming all the way, she turned to watch as the warden became the prisoner.
And she smiled. For her fear was taken away.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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TW- Insuniated themes of Child Abuse and Alcoholism.
If you are sensitive to these topics, please refrain from viewing this story.
​
​
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*I am a monster.*
*I live in the shadows and I feed off of emotion.*
*And what better emotion is there, than that of the fear of a child that so easily frightens?*
.
.
.
.
It was a normal night. I had just slipped out of the bedroom window of a young girl named Cindy whom I've been terrorizing for the past week.
Cindy was a wailer, she wailed for her parents whenever I showed up, and her fear was just so delectable!
However, her wailing was starting to get boring and I needed some fresh emotions so I left.
I slipped into the shadows of an alleyway and began making my way across the town to find a new child to terrorize.
I roamed around for a while before I found a quaint house that held the scent of one adult woman and one young boy.
I smiled to myself as I slipped between the cracks of a bedroom window, ready to start exploring.
I soon found myself in a nice comfortable room with a study desk and bookshelves on one side and a bed and night stand on the other.
I started exploring the desk and found trophies on shelves and medals hanging from the wall. They ranged from sports to mathematics competitions as I surveyed them all.
Soon I came across a paper certificate with the name "Artemis" written on it.
Ah, Artemis is such a unique name, almost makes me feel bad about planning to terroize this kid.
Keyword, "almost"!
As I snickered to myself, I heard soft footsteps outside the bedroom door.
In a hurry, I darted into the shadows underneath the bed and waited.
Soon, the door opened, revealing a small child, no older than 9.
However, what shocked me the most was the state the child was in.
The child had multiple bruises in hard-to-see places and what apeared to be slashes across his skin.
I was horrified.
Even if I had seen my fair share of abusive homes, this sight was something I never could've imagined!
It only turned worse when the boy turned his back to me to close his door.
I could see painful bruises littering the back of his legs and small lacerations that were still bleeding.
I watched as the boy had walked towards the nightstand, trembling with each step, and pulled out a roll of bandages from the small drawer.
The boy then clumsily wrapped his wounds, all the while softly crying.
Who could ever do this?
The boy was clearly too young to be experiencing things like this...
As I was about to ponder more, a woman burst into the room, holding an empty bottle.
"There you aree\~! You little bratt\~!" The woman said, slurring on her words.
The child looked up at the woman in terror, dropping the bandages and backing up against the bed where I was.
The woman started swaying, bottle in hand, and started making her way towards the boy.
The child squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his small, oh so weak, hands.
As the woman, who I assumed to be the mother, albeit a pathetic excuse for one, raised her hand against him, I snapped.
I rose out of the shadows and grabbed her arm with my inky appendages.
She screamed as soon as she saw me, dropping the bottle in shock. She tried to tear her arm away from mine, but to no avail.
I stood as high as I could in accordance with the low ceiling, reaching up to 7 feet hunched over.
The woman continued to scream, but was soon silenced as I bit down, her limp body falling to the floor.
The taste of organic matter was as terrible as I first remembered it to be, but I digested it anyways.
I turned towards Artemis, ready to be shunned and feared as all little children tend to do when they see me, but what happened next suprised me.
I felt a small body of warmth collide with my cold one and I looked down.
To my suprise, I saw little Artemis, trying his best to hug me all the while crying.
In the midst of his crying he muttered out a single line that changed my life forever.
"T-thank," *sniff*, "you...."
.
.
.
.
I am a Monster.
I live with a boy named Artemis and I feed off of emotion.
I find the emotion of happiness to be the best the more I spend time with Artemis. I have watched him grow into a fine young man and got to see him find himself a spouse.
I have lived for many years and have forgotten many things, but there is one thing I will never forget.
**"Even if I am a Monster, that does not make me a** ***monster."***
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My job was simple. Take their fear. Until I got her case. Everyone who has had her failed to siphon fear. Most of the monsters who were forced to the case quit if they had to.
And now it's my turn. So be it.
Every case I had ever done was a breeze. Get in, find out the thing they are scared of the most, use it in spades, and get out before the kid realizes what's happening. This time around... I feel it won't work. So for now, for once, siphoning fear- my literal job- is gonna have to take a backseat.
Right now... I have to know why.
The door to her room opened quickly, yet quietly. I watched her step on every single soft looking toy between the door and her bed, making almost no noise in the process. In contrast, the noise outside the walls was... Extreme, chaotic, and uncaring. The child said nothing as she climbed into bed, even as I touched her leg on the way up. Reader didn't even blip.
Slowly, over the next 3 days, I watched carefully. Nothing seemed to scare this kid. Not the spider in the corner, not the scratches I put on the walls, nothing worked. On day 4 though... I found it.
She crawled into bed, same as usual. Less than 30 minutes later she panics, and goes to hide in the closet. Right as I was beginning to wonder why, the light turns on and in walks... I'm not too sure what that thing was. On one hand, the thing looked like a brick was given arms, legs, and almost nothing else. He came in, rambling something about a pain in his ass, and then started... Looking... For her. My reader began going hysterical. Nothing I have ever done to any child prior has ever made the reader act this much. I prepared the siphon and activated it just in time for him to reach the closet.
The first thing I heard was the whimper. Then something hit the wall. And as I peeked just enough to see what was happening... I understood.
All I had to do was take this kids fear. This... Thing... Was making it. I'm not sure when I decided enough was enough, but it must have been somewhere between the cigar burn and the loud snapping sound followed by a scream so loud it broke my reader. I retreated, leaving the siphoner. It's gonna help me with what I must do next.
I reached the case manager just as he was about to go home for the night.
"Sir, Sir, I need an extension on my case. Once I'm done with this case, declare it unusable."
"Are you insane? There are no unusable cases here. Plus, you, our best worker, just met 3 weeks of quotas in 1 day with a case nobody else could even touch, wh-"
"And yet I'm not there, but the siphon is still pulling, why do you think that is, boss?"
He went to put a finger up to protest, only to find his arm yanked away as I dragged his scrawny, pencil-pushing ass through the Path, into the room. He watched the child laying there. Burn marks adorn the arm he could see. Blood pouring from where the hair meets the eye, her clothes torn and burned, her skin blackened and battered like some kind of living punching bag. The sight provoked an emotion I didn't think I could feel.
I turned and locked eyes with my boss, and he watched in stunned silence. His eyes never looked away from the child.
"Do it, Fade. Take as long as you need." Was the only words he could muster as he passed through the Path again.
With a heavy heart, I slowly, but far from quietly, crawled out from the bed. Through bloody eyes, defeat was plastered on her face as she watched me crawl forth, loud enough to wake her warden.
As the lights flashed on again, my gaze turned to the monster shaped like her father. He tried to run, only for his foot to catch on one of her well-placed toys.
As I dragged him back into the room, screaming all the way, she turned to watch as the warden became the prisoner.
And she smiled. For her fear was taken away.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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TW- Insuniated themes of Child Abuse and Alcoholism.
If you are sensitive to these topics, please refrain from viewing this story.
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*I am a monster.*
*I live in the shadows and I feed off of emotion.*
*And what better emotion is there, than that of the fear of a child that so easily frightens?*
.
.
.
.
It was a normal night. I had just slipped out of the bedroom window of a young girl named Cindy whom I've been terrorizing for the past week.
Cindy was a wailer, she wailed for her parents whenever I showed up, and her fear was just so delectable!
However, her wailing was starting to get boring and I needed some fresh emotions so I left.
I slipped into the shadows of an alleyway and began making my way across the town to find a new child to terrorize.
I roamed around for a while before I found a quaint house that held the scent of one adult woman and one young boy.
I smiled to myself as I slipped between the cracks of a bedroom window, ready to start exploring.
I soon found myself in a nice comfortable room with a study desk and bookshelves on one side and a bed and night stand on the other.
I started exploring the desk and found trophies on shelves and medals hanging from the wall. They ranged from sports to mathematics competitions as I surveyed them all.
Soon I came across a paper certificate with the name "Artemis" written on it.
Ah, Artemis is such a unique name, almost makes me feel bad about planning to terroize this kid.
Keyword, "almost"!
As I snickered to myself, I heard soft footsteps outside the bedroom door.
In a hurry, I darted into the shadows underneath the bed and waited.
Soon, the door opened, revealing a small child, no older than 9.
However, what shocked me the most was the state the child was in.
The child had multiple bruises in hard-to-see places and what apeared to be slashes across his skin.
I was horrified.
Even if I had seen my fair share of abusive homes, this sight was something I never could've imagined!
It only turned worse when the boy turned his back to me to close his door.
I could see painful bruises littering the back of his legs and small lacerations that were still bleeding.
I watched as the boy had walked towards the nightstand, trembling with each step, and pulled out a roll of bandages from the small drawer.
The boy then clumsily wrapped his wounds, all the while softly crying.
Who could ever do this?
The boy was clearly too young to be experiencing things like this...
As I was about to ponder more, a woman burst into the room, holding an empty bottle.
"There you aree\~! You little bratt\~!" The woman said, slurring on her words.
The child looked up at the woman in terror, dropping the bandages and backing up against the bed where I was.
The woman started swaying, bottle in hand, and started making her way towards the boy.
The child squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his small, oh so weak, hands.
As the woman, who I assumed to be the mother, albeit a pathetic excuse for one, raised her hand against him, I snapped.
I rose out of the shadows and grabbed her arm with my inky appendages.
She screamed as soon as she saw me, dropping the bottle in shock. She tried to tear her arm away from mine, but to no avail.
I stood as high as I could in accordance with the low ceiling, reaching up to 7 feet hunched over.
The woman continued to scream, but was soon silenced as I bit down, her limp body falling to the floor.
The taste of organic matter was as terrible as I first remembered it to be, but I digested it anyways.
I turned towards Artemis, ready to be shunned and feared as all little children tend to do when they see me, but what happened next suprised me.
I felt a small body of warmth collide with my cold one and I looked down.
To my suprise, I saw little Artemis, trying his best to hug me all the while crying.
In the midst of his crying he muttered out a single line that changed my life forever.
"T-thank," *sniff*, "you...."
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I am a Monster.
I live with a boy named Artemis and I feed off of emotion.
I find the emotion of happiness to be the best the more I spend time with Artemis. I have watched him grow into a fine young man and got to see him find himself a spouse.
I have lived for many years and have forgotten many things, but there is one thing I will never forget.
**"Even if I am a Monster, that does not make me a** ***monster."***
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I am a Jiggaboo. It might sound funny but in Monster Speak it basically “Shape Shifter”. We Jiggaboo have been around for a couple millennia now, hiding under the bed of all children. It’s a sacred duty, one in which we infuse the child with the strength to face the real world by having to deal with us nightly. We gain a benefit of adding to our stock of avatars we can use. I’m actually at a loss trying to count them.
So I wasn’t at all surprised that after Billie Jean grew up, it was time for a new assignment. I go to the Office of the Assignments, yeah, I know, cringe name. There I get my new assignment.
“Douglas Sparks,” the Assigner says. The voice sounds familiar but the Assigner is wearing the Avatar of a Slave whose Broken His Chains. Must be feeling a bit nostalgic for her days on the Antebellum South. “13 years old. Montreal.”
“Ah, Canada.” I say, affecting my best Canadian accent. “What am I this time? Ugly Ryan Reynolds? Justin Bieber whose moved back to Canada? An American? A moose who won’t let people ride him? The Canuck hockey team? Maple Syrup that’s not fresh? I’m still having issues from the last time I did that.”
“Nothing like that,” the Assigner says. “You are his mom.”
“His mom?” I frown. “That must be a joke.”
“No joke.”
“Must be afraid that she’ll take away his Maple Leafe Syrup if he doesn’t get good grades,” I grumble. “Moms are generally the comforting ones.”
Of course I still went. The Mrs’ is a vampire with an aversion to human blood, so it’s not like she gets a steady income. Being a Jiggaboo pays pretty well and you get double pay for hiding under the beds of boys.
So I wait until little Douglas is off to school. For Jiggaboo, it’s much easier entering a house in the daytime than at night. Homes have some real magicky guff that at night, monsters can’t get in. It’s why real vampires don’t actually attack people in their homes. That’s made up by the likes of Brom Stroker.
It’s a three bedroom house and everything looks normal. Pictures of the family, a very cute family of the parents and a single child. A few nice potted plants and the newest gaming systems stacked by a 100 inch tv. It’s clear that the family is loaded.
I go to the kids room. It’s surprisingly sparse for a kid his age. I can count on one hand the posters, books and toys in his room. The bed has a blanket of a dog and a pillow with a Canadian Flag pillowcase. A laptop on the bed, stickers plastering it. Suits me just fine.
I’m hiding under the bed when Douglas gets home. A friend is with him, and I have a sandwich in my hands that I’m eating. Daytime completely muffles all my sounds so I can eat while listening to the kid. I like to know the kids that I’m supposed to terrorize. That sounds bad, but remember, doing so prepares them for their real world!
“She just uploaded a new video and let me tell you, it was hot! I wish I had a mom like that.”
Great, one of them likes to watch adult movies. As a Jiggaboo I can confirm, far fewer 13 year olds watch that stuff than people think. Most times it’s the older siblings who plants it on them so that their kid sibling and not them takes the heat.
“Trust me Steve,” Douglas said, throwing his backpack on the ground. “It’s not as fun as you think.”
I was in mid-chew when I heard that. I waited for a second then shook my head. That’s a weird statement. Not that it wasn’t true but it was still weird. I continue chewing.
“She did it again last night?” Steve asked.
I froze. I really hoped I wasn’t hearing what I was hearing.
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “Right after I got off the phone with Dad. She doesn’t do it when he’s around but he’s in Toronto for the week.”
“You can always call the police dude,” Steve said. “It’s not right.”
“You know what she tells them,” Douglas said, the misery in his voice making me pissed. “That I am mistaking her affection, that I watch too many of those movies you like to watch. They never believed me.”
There was silence. I felt the rage building inside. I’d heard tales from other Jiggaboo about such…such…. _monsters._ Who preyed on the innocence and defenselessness of their children. Many were the fathers but not all. It sickened me to the core and filled with a rage that refused to be squelched.
“I wish I could do something for you,” Steve said consolingly, “But what can I do? I’m just a kid!”
“Yeah,” Douglas said. “No one can help.”
Oh yes there was, I scowled. I would and could. It was time his mom got some of her own medicine.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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I heard the child sniffling again as he crawled under the covers, doing his best not to give voice to his pain for fear of bringing his father’s wrath down on him, again.
I have lived under his bed for three years, and I know that in this house, I am not the monster, here.
. . .
"DAMNIT YOU LITTLE BRAT, I TOLD YOU NOT TO BE NOISY!"
"I'M SORRY DADDY! I'M SORRY! I PROMISE I'LL BE --AAAAAAAAARGH!"
I heard this from my position under the boy's bed. My hearing is quite acute, as is my night vision. Once again, the screams of pain reverberated through the house as the boy's father vented his rage and anger upon his offspring. The boy’s screams were cut off, replaced by the \*slap* sound of skin hitting skin as his father gave him more bruises.
He was a devious one, the father. He hit the boy on the torso and legs, where they would not show when he went to work, and the boy, school. He used his fists, and often employed a length of rubber hose or a leather belt as well, so the marks would be temporary and fade quickly.
...the damage to the boy's mind and soul, however, was far more lasting and hurtful. Everywhere he walked in the house, he kept his eyes downcast. I never heard him laugh, nor did I see him smile as other children did.
"WHEN I SAID BE QUIET, I MEAN \*BE QUIET!* IT'S YOUR FAULT YOUR MOTHER LEFT US!"
"BUT DADDY, YOU--"
"DON'T BACKTALK ME, YOU LITTLE SHIT! I'M YOUR DAMNED FATHER!"
...and the beatings continued, \*smack!* \*smack!* \*smack!* as the boy did his best to keep silent, often by biting into his own hand hard enough to draw blood.
The concluded as they always did, with the boy creeping into his room, tears streaming down his cheeks. Some nights, he prayed his whispered prayers that someone would take him away to a wonderful place where he had a father and mother who loved him. Other nights, he prayed that a foul creature would kill his father to end his torment.
Houses full of strong emotions like love and happiness --and their opposites, hatred and anguish-- draw me like a moth to a bright light. That is how I came to reside under the child's bed, with every intention of giving him nightmares, and making him fear the dark.
...Until I realized that the poor thing had plenty to fear already.
. . .
Me, I am a creature of shadow, nightmares, and hatred given form. To understand hatred, anger, and fear, I also understood their opposites: Love, joy, and bravery. I knew the concepts of what make a happy, joyful house, and I knew what it took to drive a sliver of fear into that joy: A creaking floorboard here, a cold wind there, a thump where people did not expect one. I knew it, I did it in other houses as I hid under other beds, and I planned on doing it here...until I saw what kind of family this was.
The husband, unfulfilled in his life and watching his dreams die, drove away his wife through his anger and revulsion of the person he turned out to be. He saw his child not as a thing of joy, but a reminder of crushed dreams and ambitions put on hold. He came to resent the boy.
The miserable, sad boy, who did nothing to deserve this.
He did not deserve it at all.
I was saddened and angered, at the same time: Saddened at what was being done to the boy, and angered by the father who beat him.
I began to hate that father. He did not deserve that title at all.
. . .
Another night. More anger, more tears, more sounds of regret given form through fists and weapons.
"IT'S BECAUSE OF YOU THAT I COULD NOT GO TO COLLEGE! YOUR MOTHER DIDN'T WANT TO ABORT, SO I HAD TO GET A JOB TO FEED YOUR UNGRATEFUL MOUTH!"
"DADDY! PLEASE DADDY! I'M SORRY DADDY! I--"
"SHUT UP!" \*smack!* \*smack!* \*smack!*
A half-hour later, the child came into his room, and crawled under his covers, sniffling.
"Please, make daddy stop...please..." he pleaded to a deity that either was not listening, or worse, enjoyed his suffering.
"Please...I'll do anything, please just make him stop..."
The deity he prayed his whispered prayers to may not have listened or cared, but\*I* was listening.
...and I was prepared to do what that deity would not.
. . .
The father's bed was large, and underneath it was empty. It was easy to hide my form underneath it. The room it occupied smelled of neglect and sadness: sweaty clothes that were not washed littered the floor, paint on the walls and ceiling that was chipped and flaking, and upon a dresser were ancient sports trophies that were cobwebbed; their glory, forgotten. It was a room that was a shrine to self-loathing.
I sat under the bed and waited.
. . .
His heavy boots stomp-stomp-stomped into the room. From my vantage point, I saw him remove them, then his socks, followed by jeans sloughing off onto the floor, and a t-shirt that descended onto the hardwood floor next to the crumpled pile of jeans.
"Damn kid," he muttered. "I swear I need to beat some sense into him. Make him tough." He muttered as the bedsprings above me creaked, the familiar sounds of a body shifting positions to get comfortable. "Gotta...make him...tough...." he muttered as he drifted off.
I took this moment to scuttle out from under the bed, my six legs moving with silent haste. I crept up onto the bed, and beheld the child's tormentor: A man, about forty-odd years old, clad in stained, off-white underwear. Stubble on a chin that needed shaving, and hair might have once been thick and long in youth, now receding, lank, and thin. His body was fat due to a diet of TV dinners that he had the boy heat up, followed by consuming too much alcohol.
I loathed this man. I loathed what he became, what he was, and moreover, what he did to the boy. I held back the urge to claw out his throat, and bathe in his stinking blood, relishing with glee in the fact that he would never strike his child again.
Instead, I crept over to him, and using five of my limbs, bound his body so he would not move. The sixth I used to cover his mouth so he would not scream when he saw my face.
I watched his eyes pop open, wide with terror. He attempted to struggle, but I held him fast. I grinned, showing him a mouth full of fangs as my six eyes gazed into his two. His muted screams were smothered by clawed hand covering his mouth.
Seeing his abject fear made me happy. Good, I thought. For once, \*you* are the one who fears in this house.
"Silence, man. If you make a noise, I will tear out your tongue and feed it to you. Do you think I am bluffing?" I hissed, my forked tongue licking my fangs.
"Mmmm-mmmm," he replied behind my clawed hand, and shook his head with vigor. I smelled the sudden foul smell of human waste; he had soiled his underpants in his terror.
"Good. Now listen to me: You will cease hitting your child. Your failures are not his to bear. Am I understood?"
"Mmmm-hmmm!" He gave a robust nod in the affirmative.
"You will love him. You will show him kindness and compassion. You will delight in his victories, and console him in his defeats. You will be the father he should have, instead of the disgusting, sad man I see in front of me now. Do you hear me?"
"Mmmm-hmmm!" he nodded again; eyes still wide, still fearful.
"You will give him a happy childhood. Because if you do not..." and at this, I brought my face closer so my six eyes stared into his two, unblinking, "I swear to you that the hell I will put you through will make you wish you had died in the womb. Do you understand me?"
His eyes, now full of tears, stared back into mine as he nodded furiously, as I felt his head bob up and down under man hand again.
"Good," I replied as I released my clawed hand from his lips, his breath heaving as his chest rose and descended in rapid breaths. "I am going back under your bed. Do not try to look for me; you will never see me. But remember this..."And I brought my face close to his again, fangs bared:
"I will \*always* see you."
...and with that, I got up, and crawled back under the bed, to the sound of the man's tears and prayers to the same god the little boy prayed to each night.
. . .
There I sat, and waited with patience, to see if a monster had turned another monster into a father.
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The entire house is shaking like an earthquake as the police kick at the door. The child is sound asleep its one of my many powers that help me move about the house. He's seen horrors that even I cant inflict on mortals. Grown up too fast in his 12 years on this plane of existence. His mother has been declining mentally far too fast and its taken a toll on him since his father left. The verbal abuse is what fuels me with anger and I give the woman the most fearful dreams to feed on. Not even I can inflict that kind of pain on a child purposely. Striking fear into his heart with every raised hand. No Ive grown sick of it. Her dreams arent worth the meals anymore. Ever since they moved here her dreams have turned sour as hatred for the child grew.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Sherriff's department open up now!"
I can hear the door frame cracking with each kick. I dont care if they see me Im ending this now once and for all. I carefully rise my head to the ceiling and surprise myself as I sing the child a song. One I hear him cry himself to sleep at night singing to forget the pain of the day.
BOOM BOOM BOOM
"I said open up! We want to end this peacefully!"
As I sing the last verse I open the child's eyes seeing what he sees. One step. Then two. Slowly I see the blood and wipe that memory from his mind. On the third step I smell the gunpowder and replace it with the smell of a BBQ he enjoyed on his 10th birthday. The last good memory of his father even makes me smile.
"We're in! Go! Go! Go!"
I make everyone in the house grab their ears as I shriek with his throat and lungs as loud as I can giving more power than I have ever used. Step five and six I bring his mother back from death. I want to end her on my terms.
"Get down now!"
Step seven I jump from his body to his mother's and the child falls to the ground below shooting level.
"I said get down! Get down now!"
I slash the throat of the nearest officer and roar even louder. Grab the next one and toss him like a rag doll. Step twelve I feel the bullets in her chest and bring her back from death again. Making her relive every bad dream. Every regretted choice. Force her to remember every smile on her child's face. Make her feel every hit she gave him.
"Officers down! Call for medics! I said get down now!"
Step thirteen I make her stop and laugh. I throw our heads back and howl as I show her the BBQ and the night her husband walked out on her. Make her experience that moment over and over as lunge at the loud officer.
As he shoots her I take over his body next.
"Never again Lucy. Never again shall you hurt him. Make his days filled with fear and night full of sorrow." I look deep in her dying eyes and shush her gargling. "Dont worry Im keeping your soul right here with me. I'll never walk out on you and you can hate me forever. I can take it."
"Oh dear God. Grab the kid! Someone get the kid!"
I look into the eyes of the officer as I drag the mother under the bed with me.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
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(TW: Self harm, abuse)
I’ve been under beds as long as I could remember. I’ve always been a monster, and I’ve always loved it; That was, until I met her.
She was a sweet little girl who wore soft dresses and danced around her room. She loved to sing and play piano, and her soft voice always calmed me. My job was to scare her, to steal her innocence away and make the world just a bit darker, but I couldn’t.
She was a good girl one day, and a sad one the next. Her grades slipped away, the piano in the corner grew dusty and the once bright happy voice faded into nothing.
She changed over the years and her happiness faded, but one thing that always stayed was her kindness. Even when she sliced open her wrists she was kind. She hid everything so she wouldn’t make her mom sad, and she smiled at dinner to keep the peace.
She was genuinely good, so that’s why I snapped.
Monsters aren’t allowed to interact with humans outside of scaring children. We aren’t allowed to speak to adults, but why should I give a shit about rules put into place by some old hag who hadn’t been in the field in upwards of a million years?
Today, I decided I didn’t care anymore, and that old bitch could go fuck herself.
She wasn’t a she, the kind little girl. She was a he, and his mother couldn’t stand that. He wanted to be true and I watched as he carefully buzzed away his long dark hair and wrapped up his chest. He looked happy, but she wasn’t.
His mother had never been kind. I’d heard the fights countless times, but this one was one for the books. She screamed and shouted and eventually her hands flew. His sweet voice screamed and wailed for help, and I couldn’t sit by any longer.
I felt my body grow as I crawled out from under the bed, my claws clacking against the hardwood and my bones snapping and cracking with each move I made. I may have been a monster, but that woman was a demon.
My teeth ripped flesh and blood pooled at my feet, only to stare at the boy. He looked up at me, not with fear, but with that smile I had grown to love so much.
“Please, take me too.”
Well, my job is to snuff out the light in this world, isn’t it?
So I shattered one last light.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
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TW: CSA, abuse
Aster returns to his room, whimpering again. He’s scared. The birther. The stranger. The real monster. She has been doing this all his life and he doesn’t know anything else. I’ve lived for hundreds of years under the beds of many, many children, but few children are raised by someone this vile, this detestable, this grotesque. Her form enters the room, her silhouette towering over my little baby boy, she exhales sharply and he cowers under his covers.
She raises her hand as if to hit him, then…gently pats his back before turning and leaving the room. The liar. The seductress. The love bomber. This means she has done her unspeakable acts on him for the day and wants him to act like he’s okay. As long as the boy lives here, I cannot get out from under his bed. I am too small to reach out and grab her from here. I will die immediately if I try getting out. And then who will look out for my baby?
We chat. We talk and tell stories and jokes until the sweet boy falls asleep. We do this every night. He has been hurt by her in one way or another every single day since he was born. I remember every slap, every cigarette burn, every freezing night out when my boy came to bed in shambles, if he came at all. I’ve always told him stories, sang to him, listened to him. This is what we do before he falls asleep each night.
Now that he’s four, I think he can handle his part in this. Tonight I’m talking to him about his day. How she left him with her “clients” who then hurt him in the most unimaginable ways. How, when he screamed upon seeing their members approached his mouth, she swatted him. How all he could do was cry and take what they gave to him. My baby shows me bruises on his legs from trying to run and kick at them. He softly sobs as he tells me how badly his jaw hurts.
“Sweet one,” I say when he stops using his words, “do you think you are ready to do something for me?” He sniffles, and amidst sobs he says, “I had… to do …so much today. I cannot do anything more”. “Okay lovey, you don’t have to do it tonight. But I want her to stop hurting you. And I could make it happen. I need your help.” “No I can’t! I told you I can’t!” “Okay, okay honey, nor today, I will ask about this again when you feel stronger.”
He is not ready yet. That is okay. We will try again.
•••••••••
It’s almost bedtime. His fifth birthday. I’m waiting for him. He enters the room, tired but he’s not sobbing or whimpering like usual. He slides into bed and under his covers. “Did you do anything fun today?” I ask. He tells me he got a tiny piece of cake, and that he got to eat human food unlike his usual dog food and multivitamins. He says it tasted amazing and he wishes he could hold that taste on his tongue forever. Perhaps today he is ready. “Hey, Aster?” “Yeah?” “Can I ask you for a favor?” “Yes but maybe I can’t do it.” “That’s okay honey. I just want you to hear me out right now.” “Ok,” he’s listening now.
“Do you think you could get the monster lady to come close to the bed? Like maybe with a foot or a hand under the bed?” I am a fire demon. I may be tiny but if she exposes any part of herself to me, I can burn her down to a crisp. He tells me he will try. Someday. That’s good enough for me.
••••••••••
It is thanksgiving weekend. The end of this weekend is always a busy time for him…with her clients. Ugh it makes me shudder to think about them. Today he comes in early. He’s running as fast as he possibly can and he immediately slides under the bed. “I bit him!!” He says, exhilarated. “She’s coming!” “ASTER!!” I hear her yell as she comes up the stairs. “You will pay for this!” she growls. “Oh you will pay dearly. You can’t hide from me, I saw you go into your room!”
As she enters, I can see a red hot iron ladle in her hand. She wanted to burn him. The only way I can hurt her is the perfect way to punish her. He will not burn, she will. She looks around the room, under his covers, behind the curtains, then she says in a singsong voice “I know you’re under the bed…I’m coming after you”. She bends over and sticks her head and arm under the bed. I grab her face. Immediately burning her. “RUN ASTER!” I shout. “You will get hurt if you stay here. Run and don’t come back. No matter where you go, I promise I’ll find you again. I’ll always be here for you. Always.” As his little body scampers off out of the room, I focus my powers more. I intensify the fire burning her. I pull her body closer. Under the bed she comes. The flames are licking up at the wooden bed frame. They are licking down at the ugly carpet. Everything is burning. Slowly, the fire spreads. Slowly, she is burnt to a crisp. I ensure none of her remains. I make sure even the bones are gone. Once she is fully burned and turned into ashes, I go through the house, burning everything, everything except proof of her abuse. The knives she specifically used only to make cuts on him. The iron ladle that my baby will recognize. And most importantly, pictures. Pictures of her. Of him. Of them. Pictures of my baby being hurt. Pictures of the bruises and cuts and burns on his skin that she used to threaten him with. “I will do this to you again,” she would say. And she would. Secretly taken pictures of the men she used to rent him to. These items I put in a dutch oven. Where they will heat up but they will not burn. Then I go all over the house. I burn the railing on the stairs. All of the furniture. Every single thing she owned. She is gone. The humans will deal with the men. I have to go look for my boy now. I do not know where he might have gone. He does not know this world. He has never been outside of this house before. I will find you Aster. Just wait. Nobody can ever hurt you like this again.
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was going nowhere.
“Tell her what you told me.” These words would, in any NORMAL situation, be an encouraging thing to hear from an authority figure.
Not this time. Not when I’ve already heard it five times this morning.
I sigh. “Are you going to do something about it if I do?” I ask.
“If what you say is true, then Rose and Eli will most likely be taken into the system, yes.”
Well, at least they were kicking it up the chain each time I told it. “I don’t know exactly what they do to her,” I explain again. “My people have rules. We stay in the shadows,” I indicate the area I’m sitting in - the unlit half of the interrogation room - “and we can’t leave the child’s room.” I pause, take a breath. “But every night, it’s the same. Shouting, crying, sounds of a struggle. Something breaks, Rose runs to her bed, and there’s a new mark somewhere. Her face, her back, her arm. Sometimes there’s blood, sometimes it’s hers. I can’t see her brother, he has his own room. I think he’s protecting her as best he can, the little man. She’s his big sister.”
“We’ll send someone to do a wellness check. Without any proof, we can’t do anything else today: if we find that there are signs of abuse, we can move to start taking action immediately, but without a court order-“
“Dammit!” I slam my fists on the table. “That’s not good enough! You’re supposed to be that little girl’s Protectors! That’s your job, isn’t it? ‘Protective Services’?”
“If we had a picture, or a recording-“ The woman abruptly stops talking when I open my mouth.
It isn’t my voice coming from my lips this time. It’s Rose’s parents. Charlie and Monica. Their argument from last night, perfectly recreated in every detail, complete with the sounds of people being struck, of breaking glass, flies from my lips like a jarring, avant-garde opera. Ten minutes of the pure, unfiltered horror that goes on in that living room every night, I spit with as much venom as I can muster into the room. This interview is being recorded, I know.
“Will that do?” I ask when it’s over, when the only sounds are Rose’s soft, shaking breaths.
My people have evolved an exceptional talent for mimicry over the centuries - the better to frighten the children with, of course. You know how it goes.
The woman, this Head of Child Protective Services, slowly blinks her eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Yes, that was sufficient,” she says slowly. “I have one more question. Why,” she asks me, both arms indicating my form, “is a BOGEYMAN so concerned about the well-being of an eight-year-old girl?”
“Because,” I reply slowly, darkly, showing my teeth for the first time, “she’s supposed to be afraid of ME.”
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It was a dark rainy night, Evelynn, the kid's mother... once more came through the door with bottle in hand. The scent of alcohol growing thicker after every breath drawn by the woman... not that the house didn't smelled already. Nothing, but a bystander I am... I feed on the despair of the child and the bad tendencies of the woman, though a part of me has increasingly felt different overtime.
**What is my purpose?**
It wasn't not long ago that I began to question my own reality, I just survive and no dream still comes to mind of the nightmare that I am. She's only 7, poor thing's father lost the case and got a restriction order by the treacherous and deceitful "mother". Sometimes I look through the father's bed, not that I am powerful around mature humans... but they live through their own hell and rejection in behalf of people who make out monsters out of men in the face of abuse stereotypes and prejudice. None the less, the father shows an unchanging sense of courage in the cold sadness that drips from his roof, one that does not fall to the temptation of a bottle, cigar or even a needle.
**What is reality?**
I can feel the girl's dream fading into a nightmare every night, the hunger aches for the conversion to be complete, the curiosity wants it to turn back. It is curious how dreams can keep one alive in the face of life's truth, the absolute, the certain. A clean cut trial with fabricated decisive evidence, --//--statistics slapped down into the jury about abusive men --//--, and the difference in funds between the two. She just wants to play her instrument with him, and the mother just longs to unleash pent-up trauma to the next one in line...
**I have had enough.**
I'm not tired, I'm not faltering, so why do I feel my non-existent flesh and bones writhe? I've watched for far too long... I want... a dream. Now it begins to hurt, I wasn't created to dream, was I? But humans weren't created either... to rule the world, and yet without claw and fangs, they created machines and weapons unlike nature has ever developed. With a blink... The girl Alyssa and the father Delain left this realm, their bodies remain, but their souls taken to a better one... a fresh start together, just the two of them, with no unfair law or hateful humans in their way. Without my power, I stare at the empty bed, soon I'll starve, soon I'll watch Evelynn's reality be exposed to the hungry maws of hateful humans, I'll watch as the world makes its purpose to make **her** feel the despair and hate she decided in bad will to pass down. Soon I'll be dead... but now I know what it is like to dream, what is this? Relief?
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
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It was a dark rainy night, Evelynn, the kid's mother... once more came through the door with bottle in hand. The scent of alcohol growing thicker after every breath drawn by the woman... not that the house didn't smelled already. Nothing, but a bystander I am... I feed on the despair of the child and the bad tendencies of the woman, though a part of me has increasingly felt different overtime.
**What is my purpose?**
It wasn't not long ago that I began to question my own reality, I just survive and no dream still comes to mind of the nightmare that I am. She's only 7, poor thing's father lost the case and got a restriction order by the treacherous and deceitful "mother". Sometimes I look through the father's bed, not that I am powerful around mature humans... but they live through their own hell and rejection in behalf of people who make out monsters out of men in the face of abuse stereotypes and prejudice. None the less, the father shows an unchanging sense of courage in the cold sadness that drips from his roof, one that does not fall to the temptation of a bottle, cigar or even a needle.
**What is reality?**
I can feel the girl's dream fading into a nightmare every night, the hunger aches for the conversion to be complete, the curiosity wants it to turn back. It is curious how dreams can keep one alive in the face of life's truth, the absolute, the certain. A clean cut trial with fabricated decisive evidence, --//--statistics slapped down into the jury about abusive men --//--, and the difference in funds between the two. She just wants to play her instrument with him, and the mother just longs to unleash pent-up trauma to the next one in line...
**I have had enough.**
I'm not tired, I'm not faltering, so why do I feel my non-existent flesh and bones writhe? I've watched for far too long... I want... a dream. Now it begins to hurt, I wasn't created to dream, was I? But humans weren't created either... to rule the world, and yet without claw and fangs, they created machines and weapons unlike nature has ever developed. With a blink... The girl Alyssa and the father Delain left this realm, their bodies remain, but their souls taken to a better one... a fresh start together, just the two of them, with no unfair law or hateful humans in their way. Without my power, I stare at the empty bed, soon I'll starve, soon I'll watch Evelynn's reality be exposed to the hungry maws of hateful humans, I'll watch as the world makes its purpose to make **her** feel the despair and hate she decided in bad will to pass down. Soon I'll be dead... but now I know what it is like to dream, what is this? Relief?
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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TW: murder/ hint at rape/incest
I've been a monster under the bed for 50+ years now. All monsters under the bed were once human monsters. I was a serial killer. I killed women. Oh I had a taste for a specific type. We all do. But each monster was a monster in a different way. But killing women was my skill set.
My closest neighbor monster is about a mile from here. I got sent to a farm of sorts. Their old monster died. Idk how, don't care. I've been here since. I watched every kid of every family that has lived in this house. Usually there's a new family every 8-10 years. This family has been here about 4 years. The kid in the bed is 7 now.
She's very sweet, quiet, and kind to her stuffed animals. I've never seen a kid so kind to their stuffed animals before. I cared for this one. I didn't even bother scaring here. I just watched and filed my reports to the home office. They believed I scared her, they didn't check up on me. It was a good deal.
Tonight was different. For the last few months the door would open and the dad would come in and kiss her on the head. Then he would leave. Tonight he didn't. Tonight he crawled into her bed and I could smell him. He was drunk and smelled like iron. I knew what happened. I knew what would happen next. The mother is dead. The iron smell was too strong on him for it to be anything else.
I could go check but I knew if I left her alone, even for a moment, he would harm her. I wasn't going to let that happen. I cared for this one.
As he crawled into her bed, whispering little things to her, I decided. I stretched out from under the bed. All 8 feet of me. 8 feet of shadow and teeth. I had no eyes, because I didn't need them. I can see everything in the dark.
I put my claw on his leg and ripped him from the bed. You could hear his screaming down the road but no one would hear him. No one would ever hear him again. I dragged his body into the kitchen where he apparently killed his wife. Her body was still on the floor. He didn't bother to clean up after himself.
I ripped his foot off his left leg. It felt good to harm again. To cause real fear. The terror in his eyes made me salivate. I tossed his foot in the air and swallowed it in one gulp. I don't actually need to eat but it tasted good.
I started slowly ripping long cuts into his body with my claws. I planned on taking my time. But she came out into the living room and I had no more time. She was too young to see this. Too innocent.
I swallowed him whole and the mother too. Nothing for her to see. It was too dark for her to see the blood and the smell wouldn't make much sense to her. They didn't have animals so she shouldn't know the smell.
"I see you. I know you took him. Thank you" she sounded like a wind chime. The sweetest little voice I've ever heard.
I softened my voice as much as possible but it was still like a gravel road talking.
"You ... You see me?"
"Yes. I've known you were there since we moved in. But you never bothered me."
"You were too sweet to your stuffies. I couldn't."
"I was sweet to my stuffies because he was never sweet to me. She wasn't my real mom but she tried. I hope he didn't hurt her."
As she talked to me, she changed. Light began to glow from her. She grew taller, older but not old. I would guess she looked more like a teenager now. And then wings appeared. Not just two wings but she had 8 wings, and glowed like a lamp in the darkest cave. It didn't hurt my eyes, not like sunlight does.
"I am an angel and my job is to test you. To see if you learned your lesson. You did, you protected the child. Kept her from being harmed. We are placed with humans that are dangerous to children and wait to see if the monster under the bed protects the child."
"So all this was a test, why?"
"So you can move on. So you can finally earn your way to the next side or fail and stay here for every. We knew you'd protect me when you started lying in your reports to the home office. And yes before you ask, we run that as well."
|
I hear two things:
One, the useless arguing of the child's parents.
Two, the child sobbing.
I used to enjoy his cries, but they aren't even because of me now. He stopped caring about me ages ago. This ten year old kid cries almost every night because of his parents.
They don't even ask how he is, check up on him. He rides the bus to school, and if not he walks. Because if he were to ask his parents to drive him, they'd find a way to fight over it.
But I've had enough. This guy has no one to talk to and I know it's illegal to talk to your kid, but I'll explain to the boss later. Right now, this boy needs some help.
I crawl out from under the bed, my shadow darkening the kid. "Hey."
He opens his eyes and immediately starts to scream but I cover his mouth. "Hold on, hold on. I'm not gonna hurt you." After a couple seconds, he nods. "Okay, I'm gonna take my hand off your face. Don't scream." He nods again. My gray hand comes of his face and he doesn't make a sound.
"What are you?" he asks.
"The monster under your bed. But I think that's the last thing you need right now." I take his desk chair and swerve it around so I can sit on it. "Talk to me, kid."
"About what?" he mumbles.
"I don't know. But you seem pretty lonely. You wanna talk about them?" I say, gesturing to the never-ending sound of his parents. "From what I hear, they don't seem like very cool people."
He shakes his head. "No, they are. They're just . . . unhappy."
"That gives them an excuse to fight like that, knowing their son can hear?"
He looks at me for a few seconds blankly, and then starts crying again. "I just wish . . ."
"What, you wish what?" I press.
"I wish they weren't so . . . so . . . It was different before. They used to take me out to dinner and watch movies with me and now we don't do any of that!" He sits up on his bed, clenching his pillow. "I wish they gave a thought about me but they act like I don't exist."
"Sorry, man." I stand up, stretching my six limbs. "Want me to go talk to them?"
"No. They should care about me without having to have a monster tell them to." The boy takes off his blanket and stands up too. He looks like he's going to say something, but then stops.
"What?" I say.
He bites his lip, not looking at me in the eye. "I want you to . . . ." He then faces me directly. "I want you to kill them."
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
|
I hear two things:
One, the useless arguing of the child's parents.
Two, the child sobbing.
I used to enjoy his cries, but they aren't even because of me now. He stopped caring about me ages ago. This ten year old kid cries almost every night because of his parents.
They don't even ask how he is, check up on him. He rides the bus to school, and if not he walks. Because if he were to ask his parents to drive him, they'd find a way to fight over it.
But I've had enough. This guy has no one to talk to and I know it's illegal to talk to your kid, but I'll explain to the boss later. Right now, this boy needs some help.
I crawl out from under the bed, my shadow darkening the kid. "Hey."
He opens his eyes and immediately starts to scream but I cover his mouth. "Hold on, hold on. I'm not gonna hurt you." After a couple seconds, he nods. "Okay, I'm gonna take my hand off your face. Don't scream." He nods again. My gray hand comes of his face and he doesn't make a sound.
"What are you?" he asks.
"The monster under your bed. But I think that's the last thing you need right now." I take his desk chair and swerve it around so I can sit on it. "Talk to me, kid."
"About what?" he mumbles.
"I don't know. But you seem pretty lonely. You wanna talk about them?" I say, gesturing to the never-ending sound of his parents. "From what I hear, they don't seem like very cool people."
He shakes his head. "No, they are. They're just . . . unhappy."
"That gives them an excuse to fight like that, knowing their son can hear?"
He looks at me for a few seconds blankly, and then starts crying again. "I just wish . . ."
"What, you wish what?" I press.
"I wish they weren't so . . . so . . . It was different before. They used to take me out to dinner and watch movies with me and now we don't do any of that!" He sits up on his bed, clenching his pillow. "I wish they gave a thought about me but they act like I don't exist."
"Sorry, man." I stand up, stretching my six limbs. "Want me to go talk to them?"
"No. They should care about me without having to have a monster tell them to." The boy takes off his blanket and stands up too. He looks like he's going to say something, but then stops.
"What?" I say.
He bites his lip, not looking at me in the eye. "I want you to . . . ." He then faces me directly. "I want you to kill them."
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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"Goodnight mommy!" the little girl yelled to her mother as she smoothed out her blankets. Her mother mumbled something that only I could hear with my hypersensitive ears, something that I don't want to talk about, and I watched her feet stumble out of the room.
"Goodnight Buddy, Buster, Bianca, and Kitty Queen." She said, kissing each stuffed animal as she said their names.
I heard her tuck her stuffed animals in. She got under her own blanket. The little girl's stomach gargled loudly, and I winced.
As an Shadowdweller, I don't get much sunlight. Not any at all, actually. Over time, my species has become more and more malformed due to this lack of sun, to the point where we horrify any one whose eyes have the misfortune of looking our way. Many of us live in residential buildings, under beds usually. Being around people makes our lives less lonely.
Once I hear the girl's breathing soften, I slither up from under the bed onto a wall, where I melt into the shadows. The girl's head is pointed to the wall opposite me, so I come out of the shadows to look closer at her. She is terribly skinny, but her stomach is bloated from under her blanket, a sign of malnutrition. Throughout my month or so here, I had suspected that she ate little to nothing, and this confirmed my suspensions.
*'Poor girl,'* I thought. The little girl's eyes snapped open. Did I say that aloud?
As I backed up, she looked in my direction.
"AHHH!!" She screamed as her eyes came upon my nightmarish figure.
I melted into the shadows. *'Damn, I have to leave now.'*
But something strange came over me. As she ran out of her room, instead of fleeing, I followed behind her in her shadow. She opened her mother's door.
Her mother was in bed with a balding, mustached man.
"Mommy!" The girl screamed, "There's a monster in my room!"
Her mother's face filled with rage. She wrapped herself in a sheet and stomped haphazardly toward the girl. "YOU STUPID CHILD!" She grabbed the girl's face, shaking it, she continued "I don't want to hear another WORD from you, EVER!" She let go, "Do you understand me?" She said, not yelling now, but her voice was still laced with anger.
The girl squawked out a response, her voice shaking, "Yes mommy."
She turned and left the room. Once the door closed, tears rolled down her face like a bomb had detonated a dam. She sobbed silently all the way to her room.
Sure, the girl was neglected, I knew that. But screaming at a preschooler, the nicest and most innocent being I had ever met throughout my life, as short as it may have been. Not allowed. Since I couldn't muster up an act of violence if I wanted to, I decided on a better course of action.
Before I could write the note as I had planned, I watched as the girl knelt down by her bed, and I had a better idea.
The girl closed her eyes and began to whisper, "I know my mommy is supposed to love me, and that love is supposed to be a good thing, but she doesn't make me feel good. She makes me sad, an-and I don't know what to do anymore." She paused and looked up, "If there's anyone out there, anyone, please tell me what I should do."
I had never once spoken. I didn't even know what I sounded like. If my voice was less scary than my appearance, maybe she would listen. Just maybe.
"Katie." I said, trying to fill my voice with as much love as I could. She turned in my direction, but she all she saw was a shadow. I turned my shadow into the shape of a butterfly.
She turned, "Are you an angel?" Her voice was full of wonder, "Did you hear me?"
I laughed a rich, full laugh. "No Katie, I am not an angel. I am a Shadowdweller. You know that "monster" that you saw. That was me." I said this next part swiftly, so she wouldn't have time to react. "Sometimes the nicest things are scary looking. Even angels are scary. Even dogs are scary, with their sharp teeth, but they are still beautiful, right?"
"Yes, they are very beautiful." She said, "Can I see you? I won't scream this time."
I first let my hands out of the shadows, then my head and neck. There was a strange glow emitting from me, but I was still looking at the girl. The rest of my body followed.
She looked frightened at first, but then she stood and came up to me. "You have horns like a Gazelle, and talons and wings like an eagle. You are very beautiful."
*Horns, talons, wings. What is she talking about?*
I looked down at my hands, there were talons. From my shoulder blades there were wings, and from my head, horns.
"Yes, I guess I am." I got back to the point. "Your mother may also be beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, she is full of anger. She doesn't deserve you. You need to be with someone who does. Come with me." I said, putting my hand out for her to grab.
She placed her hand in mine, and we went to find her a home not full of anger and resentment, but full of love and care.
|
I hear two things:
One, the useless arguing of the child's parents.
Two, the child sobbing.
I used to enjoy his cries, but they aren't even because of me now. He stopped caring about me ages ago. This ten year old kid cries almost every night because of his parents.
They don't even ask how he is, check up on him. He rides the bus to school, and if not he walks. Because if he were to ask his parents to drive him, they'd find a way to fight over it.
But I've had enough. This guy has no one to talk to and I know it's illegal to talk to your kid, but I'll explain to the boss later. Right now, this boy needs some help.
I crawl out from under the bed, my shadow darkening the kid. "Hey."
He opens his eyes and immediately starts to scream but I cover his mouth. "Hold on, hold on. I'm not gonna hurt you." After a couple seconds, he nods. "Okay, I'm gonna take my hand off your face. Don't scream." He nods again. My gray hand comes of his face and he doesn't make a sound.
"What are you?" he asks.
"The monster under your bed. But I think that's the last thing you need right now." I take his desk chair and swerve it around so I can sit on it. "Talk to me, kid."
"About what?" he mumbles.
"I don't know. But you seem pretty lonely. You wanna talk about them?" I say, gesturing to the never-ending sound of his parents. "From what I hear, they don't seem like very cool people."
He shakes his head. "No, they are. They're just . . . unhappy."
"That gives them an excuse to fight like that, knowing their son can hear?"
He looks at me for a few seconds blankly, and then starts crying again. "I just wish . . ."
"What, you wish what?" I press.
"I wish they weren't so . . . so . . . It was different before. They used to take me out to dinner and watch movies with me and now we don't do any of that!" He sits up on his bed, clenching his pillow. "I wish they gave a thought about me but they act like I don't exist."
"Sorry, man." I stand up, stretching my six limbs. "Want me to go talk to them?"
"No. They should care about me without having to have a monster tell them to." The boy takes off his blanket and stands up too. He looks like he's going to say something, but then stops.
"What?" I say.
He bites his lip, not looking at me in the eye. "I want you to . . . ." He then faces me directly. "I want you to kill them."
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
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This was going nowhere.
“Tell her what you told me.” These words would, in any NORMAL situation, be an encouraging thing to hear from an authority figure.
Not this time. Not when I’ve already heard it five times this morning.
I sigh. “Are you going to do something about it if I do?” I ask.
“If what you say is true, then Rose and Eli will most likely be taken into the system, yes.”
Well, at least they were kicking it up the chain each time I told it. “I don’t know exactly what they do to her,” I explain again. “My people have rules. We stay in the shadows,” I indicate the area I’m sitting in - the unlit half of the interrogation room - “and we can’t leave the child’s room.” I pause, take a breath. “But every night, it’s the same. Shouting, crying, sounds of a struggle. Something breaks, Rose runs to her bed, and there’s a new mark somewhere. Her face, her back, her arm. Sometimes there’s blood, sometimes it’s hers. I can’t see her brother, he has his own room. I think he’s protecting her as best he can, the little man. She’s his big sister.”
“We’ll send someone to do a wellness check. Without any proof, we can’t do anything else today: if we find that there are signs of abuse, we can move to start taking action immediately, but without a court order-“
“Dammit!” I slam my fists on the table. “That’s not good enough! You’re supposed to be that little girl’s Protectors! That’s your job, isn’t it? ‘Protective Services’?”
“If we had a picture, or a recording-“ The woman abruptly stops talking when I open my mouth.
It isn’t my voice coming from my lips this time. It’s Rose’s parents. Charlie and Monica. Their argument from last night, perfectly recreated in every detail, complete with the sounds of people being struck, of breaking glass, flies from my lips like a jarring, avant-garde opera. Ten minutes of the pure, unfiltered horror that goes on in that living room every night, I spit with as much venom as I can muster into the room. This interview is being recorded, I know.
“Will that do?” I ask when it’s over, when the only sounds are Rose’s soft, shaking breaths.
My people have evolved an exceptional talent for mimicry over the centuries - the better to frighten the children with, of course. You know how it goes.
The woman, this Head of Child Protective Services, slowly blinks her eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Yes, that was sufficient,” she says slowly. “I have one more question. Why,” she asks me, both arms indicating my form, “is a BOGEYMAN so concerned about the well-being of an eight-year-old girl?”
“Because,” I reply slowly, darkly, showing my teeth for the first time, “she’s supposed to be afraid of ME.”
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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This was odd.
I’d been assigned these two kids, twins that due to their parent’s misfortune with medical debt
Couldn’t find a place in their budget that would let them have their own rooms. When they were younger it was one thing, but now they were both nearing thirteen. I’d done my nightly scarings like the regulations required, every couple of nights since they were scareable age, about two. Occasionally I'd get some time off when they went out of town to visit grandma, but this was the first night that it was going two days now, and no one was home.
The Jackson family didn't vacation, they couldn’t afford it, and to be honest, there wasn’t much to do late in the midwestern town they lived in. Sometimes It got to me, there were alot more recreation opportunities for us under the bed monsters in the bigger cities, but I grew to enjoy the tempo, and the varied creatures that lived in the area. Though the Missouri Monster never showed up for poker nights, I guess Momo had other things to keep himself entertained.
Finally I hear the car pulling into the driveway. They’re home…no wait. That’s not enough people. I can hear the parents, they’re plain decent enough people, the mother works at a tractor repair shop doing books, and the dad is a traveling repairman. Gives me lots of chances for good scares when he’s on the road. They stay downstairs as a single set of footsteps come up. The door opens, it’s the boy, and I can smell the tears staining his clothes, and blood, not his. His sisters. He looks around the room, not even bothering to turn on the lights-there’s enough light from the moon lighting up the room. He looks at his sister's bed on the other side of the room and strangled a sob, before pulling his shirt off, getting a clean one out and putting it on, then pulling out a duffel bag, throwing some of his sisters favorite stuffed animals in it, as well as some of her clothes.
I suppose it was my fault, I knocked something over, sending a lamp crashing to the floor. For a moment he looked right at me, then from below his mother yelled “is everything ok?”
The boy reached down to pick up the lamp “it’s fine momma, knocked over something, I’ll have Becky’s stuff packed up in a minute.”
He gave me another look then turned to packing the bag. He fumbled for Becky’s favorite plush cat, which bounced off the floor and landed near my feet. It was against protocol, but as my supervisor said, the rules were more like guidelines. I bent down and picked up the rainbow colored cat and handed it to the boy.
“..thank you” he said, putting the cat in the duffle. “You’re the bed monster, aren’t you?”
“I am, what happened to your sister?” It was something they told us about , we’d grow over time to care for the children we were assigned to scare. It was seen as a good thing honestly-we were supposed to toughen them up, not terrorize them into madness.
The boy sniffed again. “S..she was crossing the street, when she got hit by some kid who was street racing. The cops didn’t even arrest him because his daddy owns the mill and half the town…they say they might charge him with reckless drivin maybe…”
His eyes grew wide, seeing even a minor demon enraged does tend to do that. I calmed myself down “Damn, I’m sorry Bill. you’re going back to the hospital I take it?”
“Uh huh…” he replied, zipping the duffel. “We’re bringing her some of her stuff..hopefully it might help her .if..when she wakes up..”
Not something that was covered in the manual, that’s for sure. Still, I knew what to do. This was my family, and my responsibility. I could hear his momma calling from downstairs for him. I reached out and laid my hand on his shoulder, careful to make sure there weren't any of the flames that were raging inside me manifesting “you go help your folks, you’re sisters gonna be alright, ok?”
Hugged. That Wasn’t covered in the manual either. But I was suddenly, by a sobbing 12 year old afraid he was going to lose his twin sister. Awkwardly, I returned it, then patted him on the back “go on, your momma’s waiting. I’ve got work to do on this.”
He sniffled and let go, then once he closed the door, the room was briefly illuminated by hellfire, before I vanished back under the bed. Back at my place between their room and darker locales, I pulled out my laptop and logged onto the infernalnet. It wasn’t hard to get the information, Joshua Randall, age 22. Two DWI arrests, totaled a new BMW his parents had gotten him for his 16th birthday, then the Mercedes that replaced that, then the Camaro, and now had run over MY child in a Porsche, racing someone in a school zone at 130 miles per hour.
Anyone else would be under the jail by now. His father was more than just the town's main employer, he was a state senator, and his son was being groomed to take his place. The file on the dad…it was big enough even with the high speed infernalnet he had installed last year, it would still take a couple hours to download. I went back and checked the manual. I think I found something I could do, but I’d have to run it by my boss first.
I sent him an email, outlining the situation, and waited for a reply. A few minutes later my phone rang. “Brolmad here.” It was my boss, Girnomon. He never was one for small talk, jumping right into the case.
“Might have a problem with your request, those two have higher level coverage on them both.”
“I understand that, but …they hurt my kid, Grin.”
“I know…and I know you’re furious. Is it a Righteous fury?”
I looked down, the flames were glowing bluish white at the moment “I look like a gas range burner at the moment.”
There was laughter at the other end “I’d say that’s a yes. I don’t think it will be a problem downstairs, if anyone says anything tell them I gave you authorization. Oh, I already sent up a flag to the other guys, about your kid.”
Like all stereotypes, most of the time they aren't accurate. For a fiend, Grinomon was a decent dude. “Thanks, I owe ya.”
“Any time, give em Hell.”
“Always do Boss.”
…
“How could you have been so stupid!?”
“Come on dad, I know I screwed up-”
“Screwed up? Son if the networks get a hold of this, or that kid dies, you know what happens to you? You’re gonna be sitting your butt in Mexico until this blows over!”
Josh wasn’t a stupid kid. I could tell, as I listened from under the desk in the Senator’s office. Impulsive, probably needed a lot better parenting than he got…I was glad I wasn’t the one assigned to scare him when he was a child. “Isn’t that illegal?”
“That's what I pay lawyers for…Christ, at least it’s not an election year. “
“I know, this is a real problem, I was just worried about the optics if I got on a plane. Might be better if I showed some public remorse, maybe kicked in a grand or two for the kids medical bills.” His father pondered that as he continued “just do some feel bad interviews, maybe blame Porsche for a glitch in the car-just enough to muddy the water. I mean they didn’t catch Scott, so they can’t prove we were racing.” he smiled reassuringly “I mean they’re nothing, just trash, with nothing jobs…they’re renters, we could probably get them evicted , or busted for something-enough to take the heat off.”
I immediately took back any sympathy I may have had for the kid. One thing that was forgotten by most over time, that we demons and the like, were not created evil. We made the wrong choice back then, but we thought we were doing the right thing. We were fallen angels. And when we were aroused to wrath, it could be Righteous in the extreme. I snuffed out the lights, and emerged into the room.
“Nothing? You think the children in MY care are NOTHING? I will make you understand now how meaningless the both of you are!” The room erupted in fire and screams. The fire wasn’t real. The screams were.
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TW: murder/ hint at rape/incest
I've been a monster under the bed for 50+ years now. All monsters under the bed were once human monsters. I was a serial killer. I killed women. Oh I had a taste for a specific type. We all do. But each monster was a monster in a different way. But killing women was my skill set.
My closest neighbor monster is about a mile from here. I got sent to a farm of sorts. Their old monster died. Idk how, don't care. I've been here since. I watched every kid of every family that has lived in this house. Usually there's a new family every 8-10 years. This family has been here about 4 years. The kid in the bed is 7 now.
She's very sweet, quiet, and kind to her stuffed animals. I've never seen a kid so kind to their stuffed animals before. I cared for this one. I didn't even bother scaring here. I just watched and filed my reports to the home office. They believed I scared her, they didn't check up on me. It was a good deal.
Tonight was different. For the last few months the door would open and the dad would come in and kiss her on the head. Then he would leave. Tonight he didn't. Tonight he crawled into her bed and I could smell him. He was drunk and smelled like iron. I knew what happened. I knew what would happen next. The mother is dead. The iron smell was too strong on him for it to be anything else.
I could go check but I knew if I left her alone, even for a moment, he would harm her. I wasn't going to let that happen. I cared for this one.
As he crawled into her bed, whispering little things to her, I decided. I stretched out from under the bed. All 8 feet of me. 8 feet of shadow and teeth. I had no eyes, because I didn't need them. I can see everything in the dark.
I put my claw on his leg and ripped him from the bed. You could hear his screaming down the road but no one would hear him. No one would ever hear him again. I dragged his body into the kitchen where he apparently killed his wife. Her body was still on the floor. He didn't bother to clean up after himself.
I ripped his foot off his left leg. It felt good to harm again. To cause real fear. The terror in his eyes made me salivate. I tossed his foot in the air and swallowed it in one gulp. I don't actually need to eat but it tasted good.
I started slowly ripping long cuts into his body with my claws. I planned on taking my time. But she came out into the living room and I had no more time. She was too young to see this. Too innocent.
I swallowed him whole and the mother too. Nothing for her to see. It was too dark for her to see the blood and the smell wouldn't make much sense to her. They didn't have animals so she shouldn't know the smell.
"I see you. I know you took him. Thank you" she sounded like a wind chime. The sweetest little voice I've ever heard.
I softened my voice as much as possible but it was still like a gravel road talking.
"You ... You see me?"
"Yes. I've known you were there since we moved in. But you never bothered me."
"You were too sweet to your stuffies. I couldn't."
"I was sweet to my stuffies because he was never sweet to me. She wasn't my real mom but she tried. I hope he didn't hurt her."
As she talked to me, she changed. Light began to glow from her. She grew taller, older but not old. I would guess she looked more like a teenager now. And then wings appeared. Not just two wings but she had 8 wings, and glowed like a lamp in the darkest cave. It didn't hurt my eyes, not like sunlight does.
"I am an angel and my job is to test you. To see if you learned your lesson. You did, you protected the child. Kept her from being harmed. We are placed with humans that are dangerous to children and wait to see if the monster under the bed protects the child."
"So all this was a test, why?"
"So you can move on. So you can finally earn your way to the next side or fail and stay here for every. We knew you'd protect me when you started lying in your reports to the home office. And yes before you ask, we run that as well."
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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"Goodnight mommy!" the little girl yelled to her mother as she smoothed out her blankets. Her mother mumbled something that only I could hear with my hypersensitive ears, something that I don't want to talk about, and I watched her feet stumble out of the room.
"Goodnight Buddy, Buster, Bianca, and Kitty Queen." She said, kissing each stuffed animal as she said their names.
I heard her tuck her stuffed animals in. She got under her own blanket. The little girl's stomach gargled loudly, and I winced.
As an Shadowdweller, I don't get much sunlight. Not any at all, actually. Over time, my species has become more and more malformed due to this lack of sun, to the point where we horrify any one whose eyes have the misfortune of looking our way. Many of us live in residential buildings, under beds usually. Being around people makes our lives less lonely.
Once I hear the girl's breathing soften, I slither up from under the bed onto a wall, where I melt into the shadows. The girl's head is pointed to the wall opposite me, so I come out of the shadows to look closer at her. She is terribly skinny, but her stomach is bloated from under her blanket, a sign of malnutrition. Throughout my month or so here, I had suspected that she ate little to nothing, and this confirmed my suspensions.
*'Poor girl,'* I thought. The little girl's eyes snapped open. Did I say that aloud?
As I backed up, she looked in my direction.
"AHHH!!" She screamed as her eyes came upon my nightmarish figure.
I melted into the shadows. *'Damn, I have to leave now.'*
But something strange came over me. As she ran out of her room, instead of fleeing, I followed behind her in her shadow. She opened her mother's door.
Her mother was in bed with a balding, mustached man.
"Mommy!" The girl screamed, "There's a monster in my room!"
Her mother's face filled with rage. She wrapped herself in a sheet and stomped haphazardly toward the girl. "YOU STUPID CHILD!" She grabbed the girl's face, shaking it, she continued "I don't want to hear another WORD from you, EVER!" She let go, "Do you understand me?" She said, not yelling now, but her voice was still laced with anger.
The girl squawked out a response, her voice shaking, "Yes mommy."
She turned and left the room. Once the door closed, tears rolled down her face like a bomb had detonated a dam. She sobbed silently all the way to her room.
Sure, the girl was neglected, I knew that. But screaming at a preschooler, the nicest and most innocent being I had ever met throughout my life, as short as it may have been. Not allowed. Since I couldn't muster up an act of violence if I wanted to, I decided on a better course of action.
Before I could write the note as I had planned, I watched as the girl knelt down by her bed, and I had a better idea.
The girl closed her eyes and began to whisper, "I know my mommy is supposed to love me, and that love is supposed to be a good thing, but she doesn't make me feel good. She makes me sad, an-and I don't know what to do anymore." She paused and looked up, "If there's anyone out there, anyone, please tell me what I should do."
I had never once spoken. I didn't even know what I sounded like. If my voice was less scary than my appearance, maybe she would listen. Just maybe.
"Katie." I said, trying to fill my voice with as much love as I could. She turned in my direction, but she all she saw was a shadow. I turned my shadow into the shape of a butterfly.
She turned, "Are you an angel?" Her voice was full of wonder, "Did you hear me?"
I laughed a rich, full laugh. "No Katie, I am not an angel. I am a Shadowdweller. You know that "monster" that you saw. That was me." I said this next part swiftly, so she wouldn't have time to react. "Sometimes the nicest things are scary looking. Even angels are scary. Even dogs are scary, with their sharp teeth, but they are still beautiful, right?"
"Yes, they are very beautiful." She said, "Can I see you? I won't scream this time."
I first let my hands out of the shadows, then my head and neck. There was a strange glow emitting from me, but I was still looking at the girl. The rest of my body followed.
She looked frightened at first, but then she stood and came up to me. "You have horns like a Gazelle, and talons and wings like an eagle. You are very beautiful."
*Horns, talons, wings. What is she talking about?*
I looked down at my hands, there were talons. From my shoulder blades there were wings, and from my head, horns.
"Yes, I guess I am." I got back to the point. "Your mother may also be beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, she is full of anger. She doesn't deserve you. You need to be with someone who does. Come with me." I said, putting my hand out for her to grab.
She placed her hand in mine, and we went to find her a home not full of anger and resentment, but full of love and care.
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TW: Sexual Assault
I lay there underneath his bed, in the same place I always do, dreading having to try and scare him. Its almost 9 o'clock, and its Wednesday night, which means his mother had to work late at the hospital. I don't understand how someone who looks after the sickly all day could do such things to her own son, I'm a demon but even I wouldn't treat my offspring like that, that is, if I could even have any. I first appeared to Adam 2 years ago, My first case, heh, I was a rookie. Being a rookie I was completely caught of guard when instead of screaming, crying or passing out, Adam stood up, and hugged me...…. I didn't even know I could be hugged. While trying to process it, I heard his little 5 year old voice say, "Please take me away from this place" *Sigh,* Didn't know I could cry either. At that point I vanished on him, slipping back into the shadows and wiggling underneath his racecar bed. It was supposed to be a one night job, All of them are, But for some reason I couldn't bring myself to leave until I found out what the hell he was going through. Then I found out. Every Wednesday Night, at 9 pm, *She* gets home.
The car door slammed shut the way it always did. I heard the heavy footsteps walk up the old wooden stairs and into the house. Then, slowly, they climbed the stairs to his bedroom. His bedroom door swings open, slamming into the wall behind it. She walks over and stares Adam down before those two words fall from her lips, "Pants Off" "But I'm Tired" said the shy, trembling boy, "I don't give a fuck, Pants *Off*" "I have school tomorrow" She slams her fist onto his nightstand, the bed shakes as he jumps back, "Listen here you little shit, I had a long day, I don't care what time it is or what you have to do tomorrow, now, pants off or I bring your father up here." I hear him choking back the tears as the bed creaks and shakes under the movement. "*Stupid Little Bitch"* That did it, 2 years of witnessing one of the worst things I've seen one human do to the other, I finally snapped. *Don't get involved with human problems* they said, Fuck that, they haven't seen what I've seen, Heard what I heard. This Ends. \*Tonight. "\*Adam, stop" I said, slithering out from under his bed. "WHAT THE FU-" She couldn't get it all out before I grabbed her throat. Her piece of shit husband came bolting up the stairs. I snapped his neck immediately, then turned my attention back to his whore of a mother.
Lifting her off the ground, she starts squirming, like a rat. Looking over at Adam, who was staring at his fathers lifeless corpse, I asked him, "What do you want me to do to her Adam?" She looked over at Adam and tried to say something, "Adam...…help...….me" She barely managed to get it out. He looked at her, then back at the body of his father, and with a look in his eyes that can only be described as satisfaction, he said "Make her *suffer*, just like she made me" *Let's Fucking Go.* The biggest grin shot across my face. "Hey Adam, Isn't it your birthday tomorrow" he nodded his head like any excited 7 year old would. "How about I give you the best birthday present ever?" I saw the malicious intent flash across his face, He nodded again, slowly this time, grinning as he did. I looked back at the whore, whos eyes were wide with fear at this point, "Lets have a little fun, Adam"
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
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(Two notes: One, this is a repost from another subreddit, and two, this is based on a story written by [https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/](https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/), which I rewrote as a creative writing exercise.)
I stared at the file and shook my head. Claire Holland was a problem. Everyone sent to her came back wrong.
Her most recent escort, who had decades of experience, returned white-faced and trembling, only muttering "no – no – no" over and over. The one before, a nebulous spook with ghastly teeth, hadn't returned at all. Reports, the few I had, showed a remarkable lack of detail – only a strong desire to never, ever take the assignment again.
I tried talking to her former escorts, but uniformly they wouldn't meet my eye. Most took on a thousand yard stare and just walked away. It was unnerving, even for me.
With no other options, I took the assignment myself. Yes, it's irregular for someone of my seniority to do field work, but I can't ask my subordinates to do tasks I wouldn't do myself.
So, at 8:32 pm on a cold Wednesday, I slipped into the domicile and slid into hiding, abiding until Claire went to bed. The room was a normal child's room, as far as I could tell, albeit on the messy side. I settled in to wait.
It wasn't long before I heard muffled loud voices shouting, a background of antagonism I could feel even from the bedroom. Soon, Claire came in, head down and shuffling, sniffling a little bit. From hiding I watched as she wandered around the room.
Claire eventually sat at her desk and just stared at the wall. In the background I heard voices rise, then a door slam. She turned her head toward the noise then looked away, a sigh.
I was getting curious. Nothing so far could explain the behavior of prior escorts, why had they fled? The messy room was normal, Claire's actions weren't out of place, the background noise wasn't anything I had not heard many times before.
My ruminations were interrupted by a shattering plate from the other side of the house, with more raised voices. Claire gasped a bit and ran for bed, pulling the covers up to her mouth. That was the sign it was time for me to go to work.
With a faint hiss, I reached up and caressed her cheek with an ice cold finger. Claire didn't react. Surprised, I raised my head to where she could see it, and ran another finger across her cheek. All she did was stare at me, looking slightly bored.
This wasn't normal. Most children, seeing me, started screaming immediately. But Claire just stared at me, with that bored expression. I didn't know what to do, so I showed her my fangs.
And she said, in a calm and measured voice, "You can't scare me, monster."
I'll admit, I was shocked. That wasn't the normal reaction from a child, at all. I was used to screams, tears, jagged crying, wails, the usual. Not this calm, bored stare. Could this be why prior escorts had fled?
In the background were more shouts, then a thud and cry, followed by muffled heavy steps coming up the stairs. In a flash Claire slid off the bed and crawled beneath it, roughly shoving me aside. "Move OVER", she hissed, sliding as far under as she could. I moved.
The door slammed open and the scent of human intoxicants wafted across the room. A rough drunken voice shouted "Claire! Where are you girl!" followed by the sound of a belt coming off. I glanced at Claire. And my heart froze.
My kind has been scaring children since the dawn of humanity. We create fear, it's our purpose. In all my time, I thought I had seen every aspect of fear possible. I knew what fear was.
I was wrong. I had never seen fear. I had now. And knew why all her prior escorts had fled - her real monster was beyond them.
The man stumbled around the room then dropped to the ground, looking under the bed. "There you are, girl", he drunkenly leered, reaching for her.
The rules for my kind are set in stone. We cannot interact with adults, only children. Sometimes there is nothing you can do. I shoved my smoky wrist into his grasping hand and let him pull me out.
"What the", he stuttered, sprawling backwards, and in a flash I was on him. I touched my fangs to his face and reached through his chest, taking a frozen grip on his heart. "Leave" was all I said.
He crawled and stumbled out, rolling down the stairs. He wouldn't be a problem anymore. I turned back to Claire and told her, in my hissing voice, that she would be safe forever.
I am the monster under the bed, and Claire Holland is my child.
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TW - I went light on it, but if you're in a sensitive place, careful.
​
The Easter Bunny couldn't visit because her room was too messy. That was the same reason that the Boogeyman never crawled out from under her bed. It had made the mistake of choosing the house and little girl right before a room cleanup - which just meant new stuff was shoved under along with all the old stuff, and Boogeyman got stuffed and stuck inside a too-small sock (for both it and the little girl), and then rammed against a red-striped doll hidden there because it was too scary ever since she'd seen Chucky, and THEN cornered by the edge of a Poptart box. Boogeymen were really good in tight spaces. They were really good in messy spaces (it loved that in the last house, because he had LOTS of good hiding places). But it learned that tight, messy spaces left it stuck.
​
In polite terms, it was cozy. It got cozier as months and even years went by. Communing with The Great Dust Ball and a doll with a striped shirt wasn't really so bad. They planned some good scares together - doll's mouth became just a touch more sinister, and dust ball smudged it in the right places. Boogeyman learned how to morph the shadow well, and at night practiced an evil, dollish whisper. Boogeyman relished time to plan, and to get to know the best scare tactics.
​
It knew her first ever graded report card was all A's, and she was the one who made the meals in the house. She loved her unicorn dolls and her hamsters. It heard her complain about doing her own laundry, and knew she got stuck at home for three full weeks once because of head lice. It knew she'd seen a dozen R rated movies already and wasn't even yet 10 years old. It knew she had a deliciously vivid imagination set and ready for all the best sorts of scares. And, of course, she had the doll that resembled Chucky just enough that she was afraid to reach too far under the bed just in case she encountered it.
​
Until one day she did. Time didn't matter to Boogeyman so much, and it was always surprised at how time changed the children so rapidly. Had she even started school when it first came? Now she didn't have a trace of baby, but hints of coming adolescence. Still, oh so deliciously, a little girl, and it could see her sadness and fear and a weird determination as she reached far, far under the bed.
​
"You're still here!" She was all at once dismayed and amazed and annoyed when she saw the striped shirt. Children tried so hard to wish things out of existence. She scurried backwards, then tentatively reached in, pulled her hand back before touching the doll, then inched it out with as little contact as she could manage. "You didn't try to hurt me."
​
Boogeyman seeped from under the bed into another pile of mess as she wrestled with her fears to get the doll. The mess turned out to be a pile of schoolbooks and papers - high marked, all of them. It noticed with glee how those parent signatures looked exactly like her own writing. A good scare idea. But no whimsy of art or doodles to tell him any other tales--- Ah, that pile.
​
"Of course you didn't try to hurt me, you're not real." The girl's voice was where Boogeyman loved a child's voice to be. The hard disappointment of facing a less than exciting reality. That was when it could do its best jump-scares. "I wouldn't be worth it anyway if you were."
​
The doodles were drawings of little cloud hamsters, each missing an important part of its body. This one without the back complete, that one missing two legs, another a tail, another a face. Each addressed to a family member and dated. Each with the same message. 'Finish the hamster if you love me.' They were dated a week ago, and blank still. Boogeyman flattened itself between the papers.
It found the poems and the letters there. And the reason for the cleaning.
"I guess you can come with me. You'd like that."
Instead of tossing the doll into one of the large, black trash bags, the girl tossed it on the stack of papers where Boogeyman hid. The rest - the sock, the Poptart box, the great dust ball and all its minions - got tossed into bags.
​
Boogeyman and Chucky watched in silence as the girl finished cleaning out her room, tossing away items that she'd long ago outgrown or eaten through. Not wanting to be a burden beyond a body left behind. Chucky was just a doll, and dolls were whatever children imagined them to be. He'd gladly go with her, watch her jump. Maybe help her choose the deadliest way.
​
When the girl returned and picked up the doll, he tried to forget years of perfecting the cruelest Chucky voice and tried the kindest. It came out as a firm accusation.
"What do you think you are doing? Finish those drawings yourself."
That night, instead of whispering worries about teachers learning of necessary forgeries for parents who never signed, Boogeyman curled itself into a weighted ball her the end of her bed and started to teach itself how to teach the girl there was worth in someone even when they weren't seen.
|
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
I hid concealing myself from view. I know what my job is, what my purpose is. I can't. I heard them every night. I hear them now in my head. I close my eyes and my heart, which is black as coal, aches beyond compare. It's as if an elephant sits on my chest everytime I think of having to scare her.
Tonight is the full moon, and my last night on this rotation. I have had enough, I have decided.
The girl sneaks into her room, silently, emotionless, and stoic as the angels standing over the graves outside her window. Tears are no use to her as she climbs into bed, not making a sound. The moonlight shines into her room and silhouettes the bed where all the pain of her life takes place. She used to try and sleep. She used to try and pretend to be somewhere else. Now she just stays put. Her childhood gone, her innocence lost. The stagnant smell of booze hangs in the air from the night before.
I move out of the darkness, my shadow covering the lights on the walls. Most people, of any age would be terrified, they would scream and hide. Amelia looked at me, her indifferent eyes seeing the recognization of my figure. Her bright green eyes began to water. Her pain would soon end. Her misery shortly to be over.
I reached out my hand to her, her thin fingers didn't shake as she grabbed my stone white ghostly hand. I took her from the room.
As we left the confines of her prison she looked back to her mom, the pillow still clutched in her shaking hands. Tears streaming down her face. The only comfort her mother ever could give. The last night.
|
TW - I went light on it, but if you're in a sensitive place, careful.
​
The Easter Bunny couldn't visit because her room was too messy. That was the same reason that the Boogeyman never crawled out from under her bed. It had made the mistake of choosing the house and little girl right before a room cleanup - which just meant new stuff was shoved under along with all the old stuff, and Boogeyman got stuffed and stuck inside a too-small sock (for both it and the little girl), and then rammed against a red-striped doll hidden there because it was too scary ever since she'd seen Chucky, and THEN cornered by the edge of a Poptart box. Boogeymen were really good in tight spaces. They were really good in messy spaces (it loved that in the last house, because he had LOTS of good hiding places). But it learned that tight, messy spaces left it stuck.
​
In polite terms, it was cozy. It got cozier as months and even years went by. Communing with The Great Dust Ball and a doll with a striped shirt wasn't really so bad. They planned some good scares together - doll's mouth became just a touch more sinister, and dust ball smudged it in the right places. Boogeyman learned how to morph the shadow well, and at night practiced an evil, dollish whisper. Boogeyman relished time to plan, and to get to know the best scare tactics.
​
It knew her first ever graded report card was all A's, and she was the one who made the meals in the house. She loved her unicorn dolls and her hamsters. It heard her complain about doing her own laundry, and knew she got stuck at home for three full weeks once because of head lice. It knew she'd seen a dozen R rated movies already and wasn't even yet 10 years old. It knew she had a deliciously vivid imagination set and ready for all the best sorts of scares. And, of course, she had the doll that resembled Chucky just enough that she was afraid to reach too far under the bed just in case she encountered it.
​
Until one day she did. Time didn't matter to Boogeyman so much, and it was always surprised at how time changed the children so rapidly. Had she even started school when it first came? Now she didn't have a trace of baby, but hints of coming adolescence. Still, oh so deliciously, a little girl, and it could see her sadness and fear and a weird determination as she reached far, far under the bed.
​
"You're still here!" She was all at once dismayed and amazed and annoyed when she saw the striped shirt. Children tried so hard to wish things out of existence. She scurried backwards, then tentatively reached in, pulled her hand back before touching the doll, then inched it out with as little contact as she could manage. "You didn't try to hurt me."
​
Boogeyman seeped from under the bed into another pile of mess as she wrestled with her fears to get the doll. The mess turned out to be a pile of schoolbooks and papers - high marked, all of them. It noticed with glee how those parent signatures looked exactly like her own writing. A good scare idea. But no whimsy of art or doodles to tell him any other tales--- Ah, that pile.
​
"Of course you didn't try to hurt me, you're not real." The girl's voice was where Boogeyman loved a child's voice to be. The hard disappointment of facing a less than exciting reality. That was when it could do its best jump-scares. "I wouldn't be worth it anyway if you were."
​
The doodles were drawings of little cloud hamsters, each missing an important part of its body. This one without the back complete, that one missing two legs, another a tail, another a face. Each addressed to a family member and dated. Each with the same message. 'Finish the hamster if you love me.' They were dated a week ago, and blank still. Boogeyman flattened itself between the papers.
It found the poems and the letters there. And the reason for the cleaning.
"I guess you can come with me. You'd like that."
Instead of tossing the doll into one of the large, black trash bags, the girl tossed it on the stack of papers where Boogeyman hid. The rest - the sock, the Poptart box, the great dust ball and all its minions - got tossed into bags.
​
Boogeyman and Chucky watched in silence as the girl finished cleaning out her room, tossing away items that she'd long ago outgrown or eaten through. Not wanting to be a burden beyond a body left behind. Chucky was just a doll, and dolls were whatever children imagined them to be. He'd gladly go with her, watch her jump. Maybe help her choose the deadliest way.
​
When the girl returned and picked up the doll, he tried to forget years of perfecting the cruelest Chucky voice and tried the kindest. It came out as a firm accusation.
"What do you think you are doing? Finish those drawings yourself."
That night, instead of whispering worries about teachers learning of necessary forgeries for parents who never signed, Boogeyman curled itself into a weighted ball her the end of her bed and started to teach itself how to teach the girl there was worth in someone even when they weren't seen.
|
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[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
(Two notes: One, this is a repost from another subreddit, and two, this is based on a story written by [https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/](https://kittenwiskers.tumblr.com/), which I rewrote as a creative writing exercise.)
I stared at the file and shook my head. Claire Holland was a problem. Everyone sent to her came back wrong.
Her most recent escort, who had decades of experience, returned white-faced and trembling, only muttering "no – no – no" over and over. The one before, a nebulous spook with ghastly teeth, hadn't returned at all. Reports, the few I had, showed a remarkable lack of detail – only a strong desire to never, ever take the assignment again.
I tried talking to her former escorts, but uniformly they wouldn't meet my eye. Most took on a thousand yard stare and just walked away. It was unnerving, even for me.
With no other options, I took the assignment myself. Yes, it's irregular for someone of my seniority to do field work, but I can't ask my subordinates to do tasks I wouldn't do myself.
So, at 8:32 pm on a cold Wednesday, I slipped into the domicile and slid into hiding, abiding until Claire went to bed. The room was a normal child's room, as far as I could tell, albeit on the messy side. I settled in to wait.
It wasn't long before I heard muffled loud voices shouting, a background of antagonism I could feel even from the bedroom. Soon, Claire came in, head down and shuffling, sniffling a little bit. From hiding I watched as she wandered around the room.
Claire eventually sat at her desk and just stared at the wall. In the background I heard voices rise, then a door slam. She turned her head toward the noise then looked away, a sigh.
I was getting curious. Nothing so far could explain the behavior of prior escorts, why had they fled? The messy room was normal, Claire's actions weren't out of place, the background noise wasn't anything I had not heard many times before.
My ruminations were interrupted by a shattering plate from the other side of the house, with more raised voices. Claire gasped a bit and ran for bed, pulling the covers up to her mouth. That was the sign it was time for me to go to work.
With a faint hiss, I reached up and caressed her cheek with an ice cold finger. Claire didn't react. Surprised, I raised my head to where she could see it, and ran another finger across her cheek. All she did was stare at me, looking slightly bored.
This wasn't normal. Most children, seeing me, started screaming immediately. But Claire just stared at me, with that bored expression. I didn't know what to do, so I showed her my fangs.
And she said, in a calm and measured voice, "You can't scare me, monster."
I'll admit, I was shocked. That wasn't the normal reaction from a child, at all. I was used to screams, tears, jagged crying, wails, the usual. Not this calm, bored stare. Could this be why prior escorts had fled?
In the background were more shouts, then a thud and cry, followed by muffled heavy steps coming up the stairs. In a flash Claire slid off the bed and crawled beneath it, roughly shoving me aside. "Move OVER", she hissed, sliding as far under as she could. I moved.
The door slammed open and the scent of human intoxicants wafted across the room. A rough drunken voice shouted "Claire! Where are you girl!" followed by the sound of a belt coming off. I glanced at Claire. And my heart froze.
My kind has been scaring children since the dawn of humanity. We create fear, it's our purpose. In all my time, I thought I had seen every aspect of fear possible. I knew what fear was.
I was wrong. I had never seen fear. I had now. And knew why all her prior escorts had fled - her real monster was beyond them.
The man stumbled around the room then dropped to the ground, looking under the bed. "There you are, girl", he drunkenly leered, reaching for her.
The rules for my kind are set in stone. We cannot interact with adults, only children. Sometimes there is nothing you can do. I shoved my smoky wrist into his grasping hand and let him pull me out.
"What the", he stuttered, sprawling backwards, and in a flash I was on him. I touched my fangs to his face and reached through his chest, taking a frozen grip on his heart. "Leave" was all I said.
He crawled and stumbled out, rolling down the stairs. He wouldn't be a problem anymore. I turned back to Claire and told her, in my hissing voice, that she would be safe forever.
I am the monster under the bed, and Claire Holland is my child.
|
Amelia Cole burst into her bedroom, frustrated and on the verge of tears. She slammed the door shut behind her, threw her backpack at her bed and her large 3-ring binder onto the top of her desk, and sat down in her chair with enough force to cause the wood to creak. She folded her arms, feeling like a prisoner in her own home.
“They just don’t understand,” she fumed silently.
It was the week of the homecoming dance, and Amelia was going to be Homecoming Queen. She had been campaigning for this since the previous year’s homecoming dance; making connections, gaining popularity, and when the time was right, spreading her name around. Her efforts would make the student council blush at the inadequacy of their own election campaigns; Amelia had been a machine of self-promotion for the past eleven and three-quarters months.
Of course, all this effort had come at a cost. Her grades had suffered, to the point that she had barely passed her classes last year. Her parents were not pleased; they didn’t expect perfect grades, but they could tell that she wasn’t trying hard enough. She had tried to explain to them how important this role was to her, but they wouldn’t hear it. They sent her to summer school, and made it clear that this kind of performance would not be acceptable in the future.
Summer school had ended up being a good thing; the classes were easy, and she was able to connect with the other students who were there, keeping the momentum of her popularity campaign going. Then school started again in the fall, and in her mind, this was the crucial moment. She doubled down her efforts, now explicitly running for Homecoming Queen and allowing her schoolwork to fall by the wayside. She promised herself to catch up after the dance, though the tile of Prom Queen was awfully tempting as well…
On Monday, Amelia witnessed her great triumph and her terrible downfall. She had won the vote by a landslide; she would be Homecoming Queen! She practically skipped home, confident that nothing could ruin her good mood.
Her parents were waiting for her, report card in hand. She didn’t even have time to tell them the good news before they began scolding her. In the end, it was two simple words that caused Amelia’s world to come crashing down around her.
“You’re grounded.”
She couldn’t see her friends. She couldn’t go anywhere after school but home. And she couldn’t go to the Homecoming dance.
Her only reprieve was that the grounding was not time-based, but merit-based. She was grounded indefinitely, until she had caught up on all her work. Her parents told her that they had talked to her teachers, and that they were giving her a chance to catch up with minimal penalties to her grades. They said she should feel grateful for this second chance; instead she fumed as the whole world turned against her (at least in her eyes).
These events flashed through Amelia’s mind as she sat at her desk, feeling justified in her actions and persecuted by the efforts of her parents and teachers. She opened the binder with all of the catch-up work she had to do, and her heart sank. Page after page of Math, English, French, Social Studies, Earth Science, and Home Economics. There was zero chance that she could finish all of this by the time of the dance. Feeling sorry for her situation, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
Outside of her field of vision, her backpack shifted. A large scaly hand with six-inch, razor sharp claws reached out from under the bed and shoved the pack gently to the side. The rest of the creature followed; all scales and spines, black as night but with a reflective carapace. It’s mouth was filled with teeth as sharp as its claws, and its two eyes were bulbous and compound, like a fly. As it drew itself to its full seven-foot height, it cast a shadow across the room and towards Amelia. She took notice, and whirled around with the beginning of a shout at what she assumed was one of her parents, coming to check on her.
“If you think-“
Her voice caught in her throat as she took in the horrific sight before her. She tried to scream, but fear constricted her throat. She tried to run, but fear paralyzed her and kept her glued to her seat. She waited for the end… and the creature spoke.
“You know you brought this on yourself, right?”
She blinked. This creature just… talked. And it wasn’t even guttural or monstrous; it sounded like a very deep but very human voice. Then his words started to sink in, and she felt her fear vanish in a heartbeat.
“Ugh, not you too. Look, I did what I had to do to pursue my dream. Sure, I had to make some sacrifices, but it was all worth it! Or, it would have been worth it if my parents weren’t such heartless-“
“Monsters?” The creature finished her sentence, snarling a bit.
Amelia remembered who (or what) she was talking to, and the fear shot back into her. “I… er, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
The creature sighed. “You just don’t understand, do you? I’ve been living under your bed since you were just a little girl, and in all these years you never appreciated your parents, even when you later acknowledged that they were right.”
Amelia swallowed nervously. “Look, mister…”
The creature chuckled. “You couldn’t pronounce my name in your tongue.”
“Right… well, I have a lot of work to do if I ever want to be free of this prison cell that was once my bedroom, so I would appreciate it if you would go back to where you came from. Unless you can do something to help me?”
“Like what?”
“Well, my parents are in the other room. You could scare them into letting me off the hook.”
“Not going to happen, ungrateful brat.”
“Then just leave me alone! I have only four days to finish this mountain of work, or else all of my work over the past year will have been for nothing! And I don’t need a judgmental beast to be teaching me life lessons!”
The monster loomed over her. She cowered, but her expression remained defiant. They stayed that way for several minutes. Eventually, the monster spoke.
“Fine.”
“Fine… what?”
“I will help you finish your schoolwork. I will get you to this Homecoming dance you value so much. But in exchange, you will apologize to your parents, appreciate everything they have done for you, and make sure that this does not happen again. Understood?”
Amelia saw a spark of hope at the end of this dreary dark tunnel. She didn’t understand why this creature was so concerned with the relationship between her and her parents, but she wasn’t about to give up her dream just before the finish line. She nodded in agreement.
“Good. Now while we wait for you and your parents to cool off, let’s get started. Even with my help, it will take a great amount of effort on your part to finish everything in time.”
“I can do it. If it’ll get me to my entrance as Homecoming Queen, I can do anything.”
—-
~Stories by Sol
(edit: typos. Thanks to a power outage, I had to write this with my phone and a bluetooth keyboard, so I didn't have a chance to proofread it before submitting.)
|
|
[WP] You are a monster who lives under them bed of a child in a bad situation, one day you decide that enough is enough.
|
I hid concealing myself from view. I know what my job is, what my purpose is. I can't. I heard them every night. I hear them now in my head. I close my eyes and my heart, which is black as coal, aches beyond compare. It's as if an elephant sits on my chest everytime I think of having to scare her.
Tonight is the full moon, and my last night on this rotation. I have had enough, I have decided.
The girl sneaks into her room, silently, emotionless, and stoic as the angels standing over the graves outside her window. Tears are no use to her as she climbs into bed, not making a sound. The moonlight shines into her room and silhouettes the bed where all the pain of her life takes place. She used to try and sleep. She used to try and pretend to be somewhere else. Now she just stays put. Her childhood gone, her innocence lost. The stagnant smell of booze hangs in the air from the night before.
I move out of the darkness, my shadow covering the lights on the walls. Most people, of any age would be terrified, they would scream and hide. Amelia looked at me, her indifferent eyes seeing the recognization of my figure. Her bright green eyes began to water. Her pain would soon end. Her misery shortly to be over.
I reached out my hand to her, her thin fingers didn't shake as she grabbed my stone white ghostly hand. I took her from the room.
As we left the confines of her prison she looked back to her mom, the pillow still clutched in her shaking hands. Tears streaming down her face. The only comfort her mother ever could give. The last night.
|
Amelia Cole burst into her bedroom, frustrated and on the verge of tears. She slammed the door shut behind her, threw her backpack at her bed and her large 3-ring binder onto the top of her desk, and sat down in her chair with enough force to cause the wood to creak. She folded her arms, feeling like a prisoner in her own home.
“They just don’t understand,” she fumed silently.
It was the week of the homecoming dance, and Amelia was going to be Homecoming Queen. She had been campaigning for this since the previous year’s homecoming dance; making connections, gaining popularity, and when the time was right, spreading her name around. Her efforts would make the student council blush at the inadequacy of their own election campaigns; Amelia had been a machine of self-promotion for the past eleven and three-quarters months.
Of course, all this effort had come at a cost. Her grades had suffered, to the point that she had barely passed her classes last year. Her parents were not pleased; they didn’t expect perfect grades, but they could tell that she wasn’t trying hard enough. She had tried to explain to them how important this role was to her, but they wouldn’t hear it. They sent her to summer school, and made it clear that this kind of performance would not be acceptable in the future.
Summer school had ended up being a good thing; the classes were easy, and she was able to connect with the other students who were there, keeping the momentum of her popularity campaign going. Then school started again in the fall, and in her mind, this was the crucial moment. She doubled down her efforts, now explicitly running for Homecoming Queen and allowing her schoolwork to fall by the wayside. She promised herself to catch up after the dance, though the tile of Prom Queen was awfully tempting as well…
On Monday, Amelia witnessed her great triumph and her terrible downfall. She had won the vote by a landslide; she would be Homecoming Queen! She practically skipped home, confident that nothing could ruin her good mood.
Her parents were waiting for her, report card in hand. She didn’t even have time to tell them the good news before they began scolding her. In the end, it was two simple words that caused Amelia’s world to come crashing down around her.
“You’re grounded.”
She couldn’t see her friends. She couldn’t go anywhere after school but home. And she couldn’t go to the Homecoming dance.
Her only reprieve was that the grounding was not time-based, but merit-based. She was grounded indefinitely, until she had caught up on all her work. Her parents told her that they had talked to her teachers, and that they were giving her a chance to catch up with minimal penalties to her grades. They said she should feel grateful for this second chance; instead she fumed as the whole world turned against her (at least in her eyes).
These events flashed through Amelia’s mind as she sat at her desk, feeling justified in her actions and persecuted by the efforts of her parents and teachers. She opened the binder with all of the catch-up work she had to do, and her heart sank. Page after page of Math, English, French, Social Studies, Earth Science, and Home Economics. There was zero chance that she could finish all of this by the time of the dance. Feeling sorry for her situation, she felt tears welling up in her eyes.
Outside of her field of vision, her backpack shifted. A large scaly hand with six-inch, razor sharp claws reached out from under the bed and shoved the pack gently to the side. The rest of the creature followed; all scales and spines, black as night but with a reflective carapace. It’s mouth was filled with teeth as sharp as its claws, and its two eyes were bulbous and compound, like a fly. As it drew itself to its full seven-foot height, it cast a shadow across the room and towards Amelia. She took notice, and whirled around with the beginning of a shout at what she assumed was one of her parents, coming to check on her.
“If you think-“
Her voice caught in her throat as she took in the horrific sight before her. She tried to scream, but fear constricted her throat. She tried to run, but fear paralyzed her and kept her glued to her seat. She waited for the end… and the creature spoke.
“You know you brought this on yourself, right?”
She blinked. This creature just… talked. And it wasn’t even guttural or monstrous; it sounded like a very deep but very human voice. Then his words started to sink in, and she felt her fear vanish in a heartbeat.
“Ugh, not you too. Look, I did what I had to do to pursue my dream. Sure, I had to make some sacrifices, but it was all worth it! Or, it would have been worth it if my parents weren’t such heartless-“
“Monsters?” The creature finished her sentence, snarling a bit.
Amelia remembered who (or what) she was talking to, and the fear shot back into her. “I… er, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
The creature sighed. “You just don’t understand, do you? I’ve been living under your bed since you were just a little girl, and in all these years you never appreciated your parents, even when you later acknowledged that they were right.”
Amelia swallowed nervously. “Look, mister…”
The creature chuckled. “You couldn’t pronounce my name in your tongue.”
“Right… well, I have a lot of work to do if I ever want to be free of this prison cell that was once my bedroom, so I would appreciate it if you would go back to where you came from. Unless you can do something to help me?”
“Like what?”
“Well, my parents are in the other room. You could scare them into letting me off the hook.”
“Not going to happen, ungrateful brat.”
“Then just leave me alone! I have only four days to finish this mountain of work, or else all of my work over the past year will have been for nothing! And I don’t need a judgmental beast to be teaching me life lessons!”
The monster loomed over her. She cowered, but her expression remained defiant. They stayed that way for several minutes. Eventually, the monster spoke.
“Fine.”
“Fine… what?”
“I will help you finish your schoolwork. I will get you to this Homecoming dance you value so much. But in exchange, you will apologize to your parents, appreciate everything they have done for you, and make sure that this does not happen again. Understood?”
Amelia saw a spark of hope at the end of this dreary dark tunnel. She didn’t understand why this creature was so concerned with the relationship between her and her parents, but she wasn’t about to give up her dream just before the finish line. She nodded in agreement.
“Good. Now while we wait for you and your parents to cool off, let’s get started. Even with my help, it will take a great amount of effort on your part to finish everything in time.”
“I can do it. If it’ll get me to my entrance as Homecoming Queen, I can do anything.”
—-
~Stories by Sol
(edit: typos. Thanks to a power outage, I had to write this with my phone and a bluetooth keyboard, so I didn't have a chance to proofread it before submitting.)
|
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[WP] A demon tries to possess a human. The only problem is that the person's mind is so broken and lonely that even the demon, for the first time in it's existence feels sadness.
|
“God, if you exist out there, please help me.”
The demon listened to the young girl pray, as he had been doing for the past several nights, and as she had been praying. He grinned to himself, thinking she would make an easy possession if she believed in such silly things as God. It had been her voice that drew him here in the first place, filled with such resigned desperation that it carried across to the otherworld where demons lived. He had already staked his claim on her; and now, having observed long enough, it was time to reveal himself.
He entered with a good old-fashioned explosion of smoke, emerging from the small alter in the room that the girl prayed to. “I am here to grant you power, child,” the demon spoke in a booming voice.
The girl startled and fell back on her butt, starting up at the demon, a large and shapeless red aura, and asked in a small voice, “God?”
The demon sighed. Surely if she was religious, she would have heard of devils? He went along with it though, anything to get into her head faster. “Yes, you may think of me as your god. I can help you.”
“Please, I need help to leave this place,” the girl begged, scrambling back onto her knees and clasping her hands. “I’ll do anything.”
The magic words! The demon grew excited. An easy target, indeed. “Of course. All you need to do is agree to let me... possess your body, and I can help you once I have physical form.”
Without hesitation, the girl agreed. With the verbal contract sealed, the demon laughed as his aura dove into the girl. He tested out his new, albeit scrawny limbs, exploring the limits of the girl’s body before looking into her mind.
And... it was despairing. Much more than any other human he had possessed. The girl’s “caretakers” were prominent clergy members in this little church town, and they had heaped upon her abuses that even he, a demon, would not. Treated more as a slave, she and other children in the same situation were forced to attend to the clergy’s needs — to be delicate — daily, were locked up when not in use, and were beaten and starved if they behaved out of line. That the girl still believed in God despite all this... the demon felt sadness for her.
“I will tear it all down,” he said, feeling his innate rage well up. He had only meant to trick her to take possession but the girl... she needed genuine help. “I will destroy this town so you can be free.”
They say there were few survivors, all children kept underground, of a small church town that mysteriously burned down in a massive blaze. Some say it was bandits, others say the devil himself given the mutilated bodies of the clergy. Only a traveling priestess with a deep, immeasurable rage knows the truth.
|
"So, Flora, what are your plans today?" I turn to look at Urrick. It is the start of the weekend. I smile coyly, leaning into him as we sit in the grassy field.
"Whatever you want, Urrie" I reply. "After all... you're the one in control!" I kiss his cheek. Urrick puts his arm around me, pulling me in closer, putting my head on his chest.
"I don't want to do anything to hurt you, love" he says gently. "After all... I promised to protect you, right?" He runs his red finger through my hair, stroking my horns.
I smile contentedly. I never thought I'd have a relationship with anyone, let alone a demon! But Urrick cares for me so much... I practically begged for us to be united together, which caused him to exchange part of my soul with part of his.
Suddenly, I spot something. It looks like... "Hey, Urrie... isn't that Malessor?" Urrick looks up.
"It is... he only comes to earth when he wants to possess someone..." the two of us stand up and make our way over.
He looks kind of pathetic... I mean, I wouldn't *normally* say that, but this is a DEMON that literally looks DEPRESSED!
"Hey, Malessor... is... everything ok?"
He looks at us. "Urrick... boss did that to her... didn't he?"
"Do what? To who?" I query.
"A girl... jet-black hair... hazel eyes... I tried to... to possess her... but her mind... it was playing this scene over and over... she was bullied badly... by her 'friends' no less! The girl... she's just a shell thanks to that scene..."
I think for a moment. "...Urrie, I think he's talking about Allie."
"Sounds like it" Urrick responds. Urrick then grins. "Maybe she needs someone to help her out of it... Malessor, what do you think of that girl?" I give Urrick a puzzled look.
"She... she was pretty, if I'm honest... you know I choose my targets as I see them, Urrick. She looked like someone who'd be fun to frighten... now, I just want to help her..." Urrick nods as he looks at his wrist.
I suddenly realise what Urrick is thinking. "Urrick, you can't, it's not fair!" He turns to look at me.
"Allie needs help, Flora. Malessor wants to help."
"But... then we can sort out a guardian angel! We can get her therapy and counselling! We can-"
"FLORA!" Immediately, I shut up. "Flora... this isn't any ordinary situation. The human mind... it's so easy to destroy... it sounds like Allie is in worse shape than we thought... this needs to be done..."
"But... but..." I shake my head, tears filling my eyes. He gently grabs my bracelet with his own braceleted hand, raising both arms.
"Flora... who's in charge here?" His voice is firm, but also gentle and soft.
I sigh. "As I said before... you are..." Urrick kisses my forehead.
"I promise I know what I'm doing, love. Remember, I'm in control, and that means I need you to trust me." I lean into Urrick, allowing him to hug me.
"Ok, Urrie... I... I trust you..."
Urrick strokes my cheek, then summons a portal just behind me. "Wait for me at my house. I shouldn't be long." I notice him mess with his bracelet a little, before giving me a nod. I nod in return and step through the portal.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
This story is a part of my series, [To Love a Demon.](https://www.reddit.com/r/StoriesbyCrystal/comments/xqefwu/to_love_a_demon/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3) Please check it out!
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[WP] Humans are constantly kidnapped by aliens for one specific purpose. Their long fingers and precision in hand movement make them perfect for giving belly rubs and back scratches.
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Silent space the perfect soundtrack for the heavenly bodies to dance to in the infinite cosmic ballet. Expedition ship FLNE-9 sailed through the cosmos, seeking out new lifeforms to study first, then make contact if they were ready. The intergalactic scout ship top of the line, able to adapt and accommodate even the most foreign of lifeforms. The static crackle of the FTL transporter filled the rumpus room.
Olivia Thomson, a slightly pudgy young woman clothed in polka dotted pajamas blinked into the room. Her long raven hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, thick framed glasses dominated her chubby face.
*Meow! Meow!* Yelled the two black cats that approached Olivia. They took turns bashing their heads against her legs. Olivia was dumbfounded, did she crash her car on that lonely road? This couldn't be real. Before she could fully take in her surroundings an older man approached her and extended his frail, wrinkled hand.
"Chris D'Amato, pleasure to meet you young lady." Chris said in his almost comical new york accent. His wrinkled face warm and welcoming. A fat orange cat was rubbing against Chris' leg, a tiny calico kitten perched on his shoulder.
"What in the bloody hell is going on?" Olivia asked. The calico kitten leapt from Chris' shoulder to hers. It loudly meowed in Olivia's ear.
"She wants you to pet her. I'm gonna take a guess that you was out late on Earth and saw three swirling green lights?" Chris asked.
"How on Earth did you know that?" Olivia's confusion increased. She'd gotten into a fight with her boyfriend, went for a drive out in the countryside to clear her head. The lights seemed to be following her for miles, a bright flash of light was the last thing Olivia remembered.
"Same thing happened to me in nineteen forty-three on a naval boat in the Pacific. Same lights brought all of us here. Gotta tell yas somethin important, we ain't on Earth no more. We're somewhere in deep space, been hurtling through it for a while now." Chris' gruff voice carried a gentle, grandfatherly tone.
Olivia started to cry. "That's madness! That can't be true!" She collected herself and gazed around. The rumpus room of the FLNE-9 is designed to replicate the natural habitat and living conditions of its subjects. This particular rumpus room mimicked a cozy park on a perfect spring day. Ambient temperature of seventy two degrees Fahrenheit or twenty-two degrees Celsius. Low humidity with partly cloudy skies was the forecast every day, unless changes were requested by its inhabitants.
Tall multi-level cat trees dotted the rumpus room, the floor a sea of cat toys. Scratching posts and pads were all torn to shreds. Thirty-seven felines were the majority of the room's population, the now six human occupants the minority.
Chris motioned for Olivia to follow him as he started to shamble across the room towards two large tinted glass doors. "Let me shows ya around, then I'll introduce yas to the rest of the crew. Sorry if I walk slow, these old legs ain't as spry as they used to be."
Olivia followed him, they stopped to pet each cat along the way. The automatic doors led to a stark sterile white hallway that seemingly went on forever. Dark glass doors equally placed on each side of the hallway. Chris led Olivia into the fourth door on the left, the room was the size of a large flat. No furniture, only a stack of small white cubes in the corner. A fluffy white feline was batting one of the cubes around, with each paw the cube morphed into a different toy. First a ball with a bell in it, then a plush rat, finally a crinkled ball of paper.
"The cubes are made of some kind of quantum flux material. They can morph into different shapes and textures. Once we upload your data you can use them to decorate your place. We got all of the comforts of home here. Big living quarters with your closet and kitchen on the right, you know how to cook? I was the cook on the boat when I got scooped." Chris asked.
"I know how, just not very good at it." Olivia quipped.
"You're gonna love this then!" Chris placed his hand on a large touchscreen that ran along the wall. "What I wouldn't give for two Nathan's hotdogs, the kind they serve at Coney Island. With hot mustard, sauerkraut, and relish."
An animated egg timer flashed on screen; slowly counting down.
*Ding!*
A section of the wall opened up, a silver tray slid out with two perfect looking hotdogs. Chris snatched one quickly and took a large bite. "Oh, that's the stuff. So good." He finished the hotdog quickly. "You want the other one?" He asked.
Olivia hesitantly took the food. It smelled normal, the sauerkraut pungent. She took a small nibble, it was fantastic. As she ate the white cat sat defiantly at her feet.
*Meow! Meow! Meow!* It yelled while pawing at Olivia's pajama pants. Chris chuckled and put his hand back on the touchscreen. "And uh, some wet food for lieutenant snowball, the kind he likes."
Another egg timer, another ding. The lieutenant dashed over to the small bowl of wet food, ignoring everything else. Chris directed Olivia over to the far end of the room, a section of the wall slid away revealing a mostly empty closet. Inside the closet hung two standard issue holo-flex suits. Each suit able to change its appearance through holographic projections, advanced sensor arrays monitored each inhabitant's vital signs along with any other pertinent data.
Chris handed Olivia a suit. "Go ahead and get changed then come meet the rest of the crew. I know this is a lot to take in but it ain't so bad here. Don't gotta pay no mortgage, the suits keep us healthy, free food, crew is nice. Them aliens running the ship are a bit freaky lookin but they don't bother us none as long as we follow the rule."
"Rule?" Olivia interjected. She was the rebellious type.
"The rule is you pet the cats when they want to be pet. Them aliens ain't got no appendages to pet them with. So they use us. In reality them pussies hold all the power. I always knew they was up to something. Didn't know it was galactic domination. Nice to be included I guess." Chris smiled and exited the room, lieutenant snowball hot on his heels.
Olivia stared out the porthole, nothing but empty darkness. She sighed heavily, what a cruel fate. Olivia was more of a dog person.
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I always KNEW animals were more intelligent than most people gave them credit for. Turns out, i was right.
I have always said earth was ghetto. Always made jokes that humans are an invasive species and they have ruined the planet and it's now inhabitable. Always joked about how the aliens should just take me (and made jokes about on how my life was cushy enough i would definitely let them probe). I never, not EVER expected to ACTUALLY be abducted!
It was so funny it was almost absurd! In cliche fashion i was beamed up into a flying saucer. By the way, if you ever get the opportunity to get beamed up into a flying saucer you should totally do it. It's so much fun!
When i was beamed up i was beamed up into a disinfectant chamber/airlock room. There was red light, some mist, totally dramatic so i didn't know it at the time.
The door opened up and i was greeted with a table of junk food. I'm talking jerky, chips, frapes, and so much more! On the other side of the table was the strangest sight. An animal person wearing glasses, clothes, footwear of some sort, and a lab coat. When my eyesight adjusted i could tell it was an orange tabby humanoid kind of thing. They look very cute and fluffy. I couldn't stop looking at their (her?) ears. I just wanted to touch them soooo bad!!!
"Hi! I know this is a bit rude and unexpected but we would like to present you with an opportunity. We did some research on you and found out that you are the perfect candidate for our immigration program as well as a highly respected and esteemed career. Your pay will be good and your career will earn you a social status that will keep you in high regards. Would you like to hear more?"
"Yes! I totally would. Please tell me more!" I bursted out. I was so excited i couldn't contain myself! I mean she looked like a tabaxi from DND. Soooo badasssss. And i get to leave earth? Heck YEAH.
"Great! My name is Tabitha, you may call me Tabbie for short and yes i am aware of the irony. Using they/them pronouns is pretty universal for our kind but you may use she/her pronouns when referring to me. I don't mind at all. You are... Jessica Steeleborne, correct? And you yourself use she/her pronouns?" she said. When she paused one of the lenses on her glasses lit up ever so slightly. It also became slightly opaque. It might have been just me being nerdy but I would have bet my left toe on the glasses also being some sort of tech.
I nodded
"Great! Feel free to help yourself to whatever is on the table while i go over the career fiestas it is the main reason why we are here. There are other career offers available but i have a feeling you'll really love this one. Plus, it's the one of the careers in most high demand."
"The position is what we call a 'touch specialist'. Yes i am aware how that might sound dirty to some people. Think of it as being a massage therapist. You would be scratching the backs of people's ears, rubbing their bellies and other massage types of tasks. Some people will become disarmed and treat you as a regular therapist too. If you want to study psychology as well to help with this part of the job you can. Your pay will increase if you decide to do both. We will guide you through the proper techniques. Don't worry about arthritis or carpel tunnel as we have the cure for most ailments that are current problems for people on earth today. Both human and otherwise. Are you still interested? If so we can start discussing lodging and go more into detail about everything tomorrow and we can give you a proper meal. Feel free to ask any questions as well"
"Okay... I only have one question, right now because I'm pretty sure all my other questions you will answer in the near future." i pause to look at her to confirm. When she nodded i continued with "why the flying saucer?"
She visibly relaxed and laughs out "it's funny and some humans are actually have an easier time being 'abducted' because it's a familiar concept. And when some of our abductees decide against our offers and if they for some reason remember being abducted others won't believe them. Hiding in plain sight if you will. Its also a good conversation topic among earthlings."
"I lied. I have another question. Are you from another planet or the future?"
"Both? We travel via black hole and our two prominent theories are parallel universe and future earth. We don't have any definite answers yet. But our studies do support the intelligence and awareness behind your planets animals. Humans are just too conceited to tell"
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[WP] Humans are constantly kidnapped by aliens for one specific purpose. Their long fingers and precision in hand movement make them perfect for giving belly rubs and back scratches.
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I fluttered my eyes open, my eyes slowly adjust to the dimly lit room, standing before me was an Alien with purple skin. I blinked a few times, I was sat on concrete floor. Cuffs behind my back. The Purple Alien stared at me, its eyes beginning to look more like a puppy wanting attention than an Alien wanting to torture me or experiment on me. I sighed, hoping the rumors weren't true. Hoping I wouldn't have to treat this Alien like a dog.
"Do you know why you're here?" The Alien spoke, its voice sounding as though he'd sucked up some helium. A cold sweat trickled down my spine, fearing for the worst. I gulped.
"You want me to give you belly rubs and back scratches right?" I huffed, hoping for something else. I'd probably say I'd take torture in this scenario. However, this WAS torture. I had my own dog back at home and I didn't want to pet hundreds if not thousands of them on an Alien ship. God, I shouldn't have taken that sleeping tablet.
The Aliens eyes beamed at me, I could almost see its tail frantically wagging now. If it did, a tornado would appear within 2 seconds. I lowered my head. Why me?
"Well then?" It piped up, I lifted my head and rolled my eyes. This was indeed going to be the death of me.
"Fine, let's just get this over with." I agreed, a key formed in its small 3 fingers and it trodded its way towards me. For a moment there, I was tempted to say I had a dog of my own. I feared if I'd said that, they might end up kidnapping my dog or shape-shifting into it if they figured out how.
I stared at my wrists, it was 4:50 according to my watch. The Alien spun round before crouching down, shuffling towards my direction. I began.
"Hey, you're pretty good human. Is this from experience?" The Alien asked, turning its giant head to face me. The curiosity inside me began to burn brighter. I began to wonder the consequences of my response.
"Yeah." I frowned, the Alien drew a large smile and whistled. Suddenly, more began to appear from a single door in the corner. I didn't even know that was there.
"So then, you ALL want my attention???" I asked, they all nodded in sync. "Alright then, form a line." I ordered, they did as they were asked. From then, I knew I would be seeing them more often. I wouldn't be surprised if they snuck into my home. Maybe being a cat person won't be so bad after all. Then again, I think this would be worth it if I got to miss work. Welp, there goes my sleep schedule.
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The aliens come in the night,
abducting humans for their own nefarious purposes.
They take us from our homes,
from our families and loved ones.
We're never seen again,
except for the occasional abductee
who escapes and tells their tale.
What do they want from us?
Some say they need our DNA,
others say they want our bodies.
But I believe the truth is much simpler:
They just want us
to give them belly rubs
and back scratches.
That's why they take only the fittest,
the ones with long fingers and precise hand movement.
They groom us and pamper us,
making us into the perfect pets.
And we love it,
even though we know, we're being used.
Because who doesn't love to give a good belly rub?
written with the help of [you.com](https://you.com)
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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I looked at the doors in disbelief. In one door I could be set free and all of this will be forgotten, but behind the second door I could be subjected to something far worse than the kings jail.
Do I dare take that chance?
I thought of my little brother waiting for me to come through the door with at least some bread. That's all I wanted was some food to put in front of my brother.
If I don't come home he'll think I abandoned him like our mother did so long ago.
I shook these thoughts out of my head and looked again at the doors.
They were identical. Brown wood that was warping around the edges with iron brackets holding the wood together. The rust on the brackets a dull orangeish red color. As I looked down at the handles of the doors they both had rust on them but the left one was rustier. It was most likely used more.
People probably thought that the one that looked more used is the good option. I don't know though it could just be a ruse to get people down into the chamber.
I started sweating as I felt eyes on me. I looked up at the crowd of people here. This was a sick game to them. It wasn't their loved one down in the pit forced to make this decision so they didn't care. I was like a monkey forced to dance to music as they threw peanuts and coins at me.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. I walked forward. I reached my hand out towards the right door handle the one not that rusty. I looked up to the king and his face was cold and emotionless. I couldn't tell if I was picking the door to freedom or my demise.
I turned to the guard. "Please if I pick the wrong door can you tell my brother that I love him and I didn't abandon him."
The guard looked at me almost with pity in his eyes. He didn't say anything the only thing he did was nod his head.
I turned back towards the doors and put my hand on the right door handle and the crowd went absolutely silent. I turned the handle. It creaked and squeaked. I pulled open the door slowly and looked down the dark hallway. The crowd erupted with cheers as I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I picked wrong. I was shoved into the door by the guard.
I turned around as the guard shut the door I ran to it. Screaming and yelling. I pounded on the door.
"Let me out! Let me choose again! Please!" I begged.
After I screamed and pounded on the door for what felt like forever. I collapsed on the floor and cried. I will die down here and I will never see my brother again.
After awhile I stood up and looked down the hallway it wasn't as dark as it was before probably because my eyes adjusted to the dark. I put my hand on the left wall and walked down it thinking I was going to be walking for awhile until the wall gave way. I looked at the wall and it was a fork but from where I had come from. Wait. Does this mean there isn't any freedom?
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It’s a fifty - fifty. C’mon Robert! You can’t let Lysa raise your kid herself! The doors are the better option. I know it. Robbing the cart was your choice! My choice.
But what else could have I done. We needed that money. The last war took a lot out of the commoners. The kings and courtiers don’t understand that of course. How could they. They take their taxes and produce in the name of protecting the people and let others fight their wars.
How many have shed their blood for them!? Meanwhile even old Tommy from the town lost an arm fighting for them- and he fought in the battle of Redrimmed Gulf during the Westland Way war with my grand father!
This time, because of the young princeling’s callousness, the Northern Heirfants waged a war against us that lasted all spring and half of summer! Barely any crops were sowed at all, much less to give taxes and leases and last through winter. The orphans, the widows, the families of the cripples this war caused were going to go hungry, I couldn’t let this go. It’s just not what good barons do. Even the most lowly and poor ones. We ought to care for the people in our lands. The same way a certain king should have cared.
I look to Sam. Lord Sam, overlord of the Goldfields. My secret associate in this madness of a scheme.
“It’s time. The king wants you to make your choice.” He says to me. This man, my overlord, my mentor. My friend. My true father.
“ I trusted you with my life, once, Sam, back at Baywatch Creek. Now I trust you with my kin’s.”
“ God be with ye, Rob.” He says inclining his head to the right.
He’s never led me astray before.
“ Aye. And if not, you will. Goodbye Sam.”
I walk through the right door.
——— + ——— + ———
That was over ten years ago… I reread Lysa’s letter again. Few sentences standout.
“Lord Sam Mortsem of Topper Keep, Earl of the Goldfields has died, defending the king in the Bamry Sword war. He passed his titles to you.”
“The old king is dead. The new king’s coronation will be in a fortnight.”
“ I need you. Your son needs you. He needs his Sam.”
I chose the door to freedom. A conditional freedom, over my sentence. A freedom with terms over 10 years in prison. A freedom with no name, nor titles. A freedom away from home.
I stayed true to those terms. I honoured them, and with them my last king too. But now my sentence has passed, and the old king is dead.
Long live the king!
~ fin ~
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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"Is this a joke?" I muttered more to myself than anything, but the choice is clear. I have nothing to lose. So, "I choose the door on the right."
The door opened and inside of it was what looked like a haunted house, filled with people dressed up as characters and holding miscellanies weapons.
"You're lucky, not many people choose the freedom door." the King snarled with a wicked grin.
And with that being said, I was shoved into the room by the guard behind me. Instantly, I was met by five people holding weapons such as chainsaws or baseball bats covered in barbed wire.
"Beat us, and you get out of here. But if you lose, you become one of us." the clown on the far right said. More like laughed. But what they don't know is I was one of the King's guards not so long ago, but when I caught the thief that had been stealing all the goods within the city, I was framed. So one by one I took them out.
Bright light hit my eyes and the sound of slow clapping reached my ears as I dropped the last man.
"I knew I could count on you to take them out, John. I didn't have the balls to do it myself." the King said, proudness evident in his voice.
"Thanks, dad." I replied, rolling my eyes.
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It’s a fifty - fifty. C’mon Robert! You can’t let Lysa raise your kid herself! The doors are the better option. I know it. Robbing the cart was your choice! My choice.
But what else could have I done. We needed that money. The last war took a lot out of the commoners. The kings and courtiers don’t understand that of course. How could they. They take their taxes and produce in the name of protecting the people and let others fight their wars.
How many have shed their blood for them!? Meanwhile even old Tommy from the town lost an arm fighting for them- and he fought in the battle of Redrimmed Gulf during the Westland Way war with my grand father!
This time, because of the young princeling’s callousness, the Northern Heirfants waged a war against us that lasted all spring and half of summer! Barely any crops were sowed at all, much less to give taxes and leases and last through winter. The orphans, the widows, the families of the cripples this war caused were going to go hungry, I couldn’t let this go. It’s just not what good barons do. Even the most lowly and poor ones. We ought to care for the people in our lands. The same way a certain king should have cared.
I look to Sam. Lord Sam, overlord of the Goldfields. My secret associate in this madness of a scheme.
“It’s time. The king wants you to make your choice.” He says to me. This man, my overlord, my mentor. My friend. My true father.
“ I trusted you with my life, once, Sam, back at Baywatch Creek. Now I trust you with my kin’s.”
“ God be with ye, Rob.” He says inclining his head to the right.
He’s never led me astray before.
“ Aye. And if not, you will. Goodbye Sam.”
I walk through the right door.
——— + ——— + ———
That was over ten years ago… I reread Lysa’s letter again. Few sentences standout.
“Lord Sam Mortsem of Topper Keep, Earl of the Goldfields has died, defending the king in the Bamry Sword war. He passed his titles to you.”
“The old king is dead. The new king’s coronation will be in a fortnight.”
“ I need you. Your son needs you. He needs his Sam.”
I chose the door to freedom. A conditional freedom, over my sentence. A freedom with terms over 10 years in prison. A freedom with no name, nor titles. A freedom away from home.
I stayed true to those terms. I honoured them, and with them my last king too. But now my sentence has passed, and the old king is dead.
Long live the king!
~ fin ~
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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I stared at the two doors, identical in every way. They weren’t terribly fancy—my father had far better doors leading into the hanging gardens, and my mother had far worse doors leading into her house. As it stood, they were simply doors. If I had hoped for a clue, it wasn’t going to be here.
I glanced back at the king, who stood triumphant on his dais, or perhaps would look more triumphant if the wind wasn’t causing the gold tassels to flick and flutter off the roof of his gilded dais and occasionally slap against his face. He didn’t duck or brush them away, which personally I felt took great resolve. He was pretending they weren’t there so everyone was pretending they weren’t there and if that little detail didn’t sum up the entirety of how this kingdom was run and the king himself, then I don’t know what would.
Ah, well. Some things you can fix and some you can’t. I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll just go back to my cell now.”
The king blinked, the corners of his wide grin flagging. “What, prisoner?”
I leaned forward a little. Maybe he’s half deaf. That would explain a lot. “I said, ‘I’ll just go back to my cell now,’ your highness. Or majesty. Or whatever you’re called—I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the vernacular of this dynamic.”
“I don’t,” the king glanced down at one of his advisors, who didn’t seem to appreciate the attention. “I don’t understand. She didn’t choose.”
“I did.” I wave dismissively at the doors. “I chose neither.”
“But you could have FREEDOM!” he proclaimed loudly, booming the last word so that the audience could hear and cheer accordingly.
“Or, and I can’t stress this enough, torture and death. 50/50 aren’t my kind of odds. I’m a 90% and higher kind of girl.”
“But you’ll rot away in prison.” The king looked truly appalled by my choice.
“Ten years really isn’t that long.”
“But the fanfare…” He looked around at the gathered crowds, the colorful banners that twisted in the wind, the freshly cleaned cobblestone and carefully placed doors. The musicians primed by the stage, advisors and nobles decked out in their finest attire.
“All very lovely,” I assured him. “But not lovely enough for me to risk death.”
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go,” the king grumbled to his advisor, who danced and squirmed under the pinned glare.
“We could always…remove the option to go back, your majesty?” His thin voice wavered and trembled.
“Well, I can with HER, now can I?!” the king raged. “I already gave her three options—oh, never mind. Bring out another prisoner. I should’ve known better than to use a witch on our first try.”
The guards shoved me roughly into the carriage. Fine by me. The whole display WAS lovely, but not for me, clearly, and I’m happy enough to return to my little cell with my stacks of books under my mattress and the new journal with crisp, clean pages one of the guards gifted me.
Some time later, slouched against my cell wall and reading the last chapter of a book, I heard the city roar, a collective shout of excitement and fervor. Some other criminal had been brought out and obviously made their choice.
I’d like to say the city was cheering the criminal’s correct choice of door and promised freedom, but knowing this city, probably not.
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It’s a fifty - fifty. C’mon Robert! You can’t let Lysa raise your kid herself! The doors are the better option. I know it. Robbing the cart was your choice! My choice.
But what else could have I done. We needed that money. The last war took a lot out of the commoners. The kings and courtiers don’t understand that of course. How could they. They take their taxes and produce in the name of protecting the people and let others fight their wars.
How many have shed their blood for them!? Meanwhile even old Tommy from the town lost an arm fighting for them- and he fought in the battle of Redrimmed Gulf during the Westland Way war with my grand father!
This time, because of the young princeling’s callousness, the Northern Heirfants waged a war against us that lasted all spring and half of summer! Barely any crops were sowed at all, much less to give taxes and leases and last through winter. The orphans, the widows, the families of the cripples this war caused were going to go hungry, I couldn’t let this go. It’s just not what good barons do. Even the most lowly and poor ones. We ought to care for the people in our lands. The same way a certain king should have cared.
I look to Sam. Lord Sam, overlord of the Goldfields. My secret associate in this madness of a scheme.
“It’s time. The king wants you to make your choice.” He says to me. This man, my overlord, my mentor. My friend. My true father.
“ I trusted you with my life, once, Sam, back at Baywatch Creek. Now I trust you with my kin’s.”
“ God be with ye, Rob.” He says inclining his head to the right.
He’s never led me astray before.
“ Aye. And if not, you will. Goodbye Sam.”
I walk through the right door.
——— + ——— + ———
That was over ten years ago… I reread Lysa’s letter again. Few sentences standout.
“Lord Sam Mortsem of Topper Keep, Earl of the Goldfields has died, defending the king in the Bamry Sword war. He passed his titles to you.”
“The old king is dead. The new king’s coronation will be in a fortnight.”
“ I need you. Your son needs you. He needs his Sam.”
I chose the door to freedom. A conditional freedom, over my sentence. A freedom with terms over 10 years in prison. A freedom with no name, nor titles. A freedom away from home.
I stayed true to those terms. I honoured them, and with them my last king too. But now my sentence has passed, and the old king is dead.
Long live the king!
~ fin ~
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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I looked at the doors in disbelief. In one door I could be set free and all of this will be forgotten, but behind the second door I could be subjected to something far worse than the kings jail.
Do I dare take that chance?
I thought of my little brother waiting for me to come through the door with at least some bread. That's all I wanted was some food to put in front of my brother.
If I don't come home he'll think I abandoned him like our mother did so long ago.
I shook these thoughts out of my head and looked again at the doors.
They were identical. Brown wood that was warping around the edges with iron brackets holding the wood together. The rust on the brackets a dull orangeish red color. As I looked down at the handles of the doors they both had rust on them but the left one was rustier. It was most likely used more.
People probably thought that the one that looked more used is the good option. I don't know though it could just be a ruse to get people down into the chamber.
I started sweating as I felt eyes on me. I looked up at the crowd of people here. This was a sick game to them. It wasn't their loved one down in the pit forced to make this decision so they didn't care. I was like a monkey forced to dance to music as they threw peanuts and coins at me.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. I walked forward. I reached my hand out towards the right door handle the one not that rusty. I looked up to the king and his face was cold and emotionless. I couldn't tell if I was picking the door to freedom or my demise.
I turned to the guard. "Please if I pick the wrong door can you tell my brother that I love him and I didn't abandon him."
The guard looked at me almost with pity in his eyes. He didn't say anything the only thing he did was nod his head.
I turned back towards the doors and put my hand on the right door handle and the crowd went absolutely silent. I turned the handle. It creaked and squeaked. I pulled open the door slowly and looked down the dark hallway. The crowd erupted with cheers as I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I picked wrong. I was shoved into the door by the guard.
I turned around as the guard shut the door I ran to it. Screaming and yelling. I pounded on the door.
"Let me out! Let me choose again! Please!" I begged.
After I screamed and pounded on the door for what felt like forever. I collapsed on the floor and cried. I will die down here and I will never see my brother again.
After awhile I stood up and looked down the hallway it wasn't as dark as it was before probably because my eyes adjusted to the dark. I put my hand on the left wall and walked down it thinking I was going to be walking for awhile until the wall gave way. I looked at the wall and it was a fork but from where I had come from. Wait. Does this mean there isn't any freedom?
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I had never felt so intimidated as the heavy iron doors gazed down upon me; prompting me to make judgement on my own fate. How could this decision be so torturous? Why would he give me this option?
The kings reign has been shrouded in chaos, torment and betrayal. Trust this sociopath to develop such a fallacious plot. Has he not generated enough mystery in this world through his assertion of power? I cannot give this man the pleasure of providing me with the means to determine my own fate. He is a tyrant.
A lot can happen in a decade, it is a considerable amount of time, however, I would happily renounce a decade from my life as oppose to a lifetime. I must make a decision.
As Petr contemplated the Kings decision, whispers were gaining pace at the rear end of the courtroom. A group of four clergymen had just left the room in a mildly distressed state. The head of the kings guard began to look agitated as the room became tense. The king was unaware of this developing tension. He remained slumped across his thrown. Biting the remaining stubs of his nails whilst pondering on the ingenuity of his most recent scheme.
Cries and cheers started to develop outside the court room, I could not determine the topic of their protest but it was obviously concerning to the kings guard and wider audience. The king pressed me to make a decision but I was not ready. As a stood there silently contemplating my fate, the door at the end of the room once again opened. The cheering grew louder but I could still not determine the purpose of their protest. I turned around to look at the developing commotion around me and there he stood, my decision was final.
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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"Is this a joke?" I muttered more to myself than anything, but the choice is clear. I have nothing to lose. So, "I choose the door on the right."
The door opened and inside of it was what looked like a haunted house, filled with people dressed up as characters and holding miscellanies weapons.
"You're lucky, not many people choose the freedom door." the King snarled with a wicked grin.
And with that being said, I was shoved into the room by the guard behind me. Instantly, I was met by five people holding weapons such as chainsaws or baseball bats covered in barbed wire.
"Beat us, and you get out of here. But if you lose, you become one of us." the clown on the far right said. More like laughed. But what they don't know is I was one of the King's guards not so long ago, but when I caught the thief that had been stealing all the goods within the city, I was framed. So one by one I took them out.
Bright light hit my eyes and the sound of slow clapping reached my ears as I dropped the last man.
"I knew I could count on you to take them out, John. I didn't have the balls to do it myself." the King said, proudness evident in his voice.
"Thanks, dad." I replied, rolling my eyes.
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I had never felt so intimidated as the heavy iron doors gazed down upon me; prompting me to make judgement on my own fate. How could this decision be so torturous? Why would he give me this option?
The kings reign has been shrouded in chaos, torment and betrayal. Trust this sociopath to develop such a fallacious plot. Has he not generated enough mystery in this world through his assertion of power? I cannot give this man the pleasure of providing me with the means to determine my own fate. He is a tyrant.
A lot can happen in a decade, it is a considerable amount of time, however, I would happily renounce a decade from my life as oppose to a lifetime. I must make a decision.
As Petr contemplated the Kings decision, whispers were gaining pace at the rear end of the courtroom. A group of four clergymen had just left the room in a mildly distressed state. The head of the kings guard began to look agitated as the room became tense. The king was unaware of this developing tension. He remained slumped across his thrown. Biting the remaining stubs of his nails whilst pondering on the ingenuity of his most recent scheme.
Cries and cheers started to develop outside the court room, I could not determine the topic of their protest but it was obviously concerning to the kings guard and wider audience. The king pressed me to make a decision but I was not ready. As a stood there silently contemplating my fate, the door at the end of the room once again opened. The cheering grew louder but I could still not determine the purpose of their protest. I turned around to look at the developing commotion around me and there he stood, my decision was final.
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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I looked at the doors in disbelief. In one door I could be set free and all of this will be forgotten, but behind the second door I could be subjected to something far worse than the kings jail.
Do I dare take that chance?
I thought of my little brother waiting for me to come through the door with at least some bread. That's all I wanted was some food to put in front of my brother.
If I don't come home he'll think I abandoned him like our mother did so long ago.
I shook these thoughts out of my head and looked again at the doors.
They were identical. Brown wood that was warping around the edges with iron brackets holding the wood together. The rust on the brackets a dull orangeish red color. As I looked down at the handles of the doors they both had rust on them but the left one was rustier. It was most likely used more.
People probably thought that the one that looked more used is the good option. I don't know though it could just be a ruse to get people down into the chamber.
I started sweating as I felt eyes on me. I looked up at the crowd of people here. This was a sick game to them. It wasn't their loved one down in the pit forced to make this decision so they didn't care. I was like a monkey forced to dance to music as they threw peanuts and coins at me.
I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it. I walked forward. I reached my hand out towards the right door handle the one not that rusty. I looked up to the king and his face was cold and emotionless. I couldn't tell if I was picking the door to freedom or my demise.
I turned to the guard. "Please if I pick the wrong door can you tell my brother that I love him and I didn't abandon him."
The guard looked at me almost with pity in his eyes. He didn't say anything the only thing he did was nod his head.
I turned back towards the doors and put my hand on the right door handle and the crowd went absolutely silent. I turned the handle. It creaked and squeaked. I pulled open the door slowly and looked down the dark hallway. The crowd erupted with cheers as I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. I picked wrong. I was shoved into the door by the guard.
I turned around as the guard shut the door I ran to it. Screaming and yelling. I pounded on the door.
"Let me out! Let me choose again! Please!" I begged.
After I screamed and pounded on the door for what felt like forever. I collapsed on the floor and cried. I will die down here and I will never see my brother again.
After awhile I stood up and looked down the hallway it wasn't as dark as it was before probably because my eyes adjusted to the dark. I put my hand on the left wall and walked down it thinking I was going to be walking for awhile until the wall gave way. I looked at the wall and it was a fork but from where I had come from. Wait. Does this mean there isn't any freedom?
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"Seriously? 10 years in prison for stealing enough food to feed my family? Or possibly being tortured to death? Those are my options?"
"Well you could get lucky and pick freedom..."
"Still, doesn't that seem unusually cruel? Number one, I didn't hurt anyone. Hell, I didn't even bring a weapon. I slipped a lock in the middle of the night and took a weeks worth of groceries so my kids wouldn't go to sleep starving and crying. Number two, if you hadn't outsourced my mining gig to the dwarves, I wouldn't have lost my job in the first place and could have afforded all of that food with two days of work. And you think that's worth TEN years of my life, just languishing in a cell? Over groceries?! What kind of king are you?"
"I? I am the beacon of Justice! The one who'll erase the-"
"Shut up, you don't know shit about Justice. If you did, you'd arrest half of your own guardsmen for assault, rape, theft, illegal search and seizure, illegal arrests, and straight up murder. Just the other day I saw one of your guards approach a youth who was simply eating his dinner whilst atop his wagon and Immediately shoot the kid with his crossbow. Luckily he escaped and was later treated at the apothecary but that sounds like straight up attempted murder to me. Your guard never identified himself and tried to kill a child who was simply Eating On His Wagon. And that kind of shit happens Every Day, All Over your kingdom. And yet you think I'M the criminal who deserves 10 years behind bars? Where exactly is the JUSTICE in that?!"
"I uh... um. Hmm... If that's true... Guard, take him back to holding. And see that he's fed. I need to meet with my advisors. I think someone may be doctoring my weekly reports. Mayhap I need to conduct a little internal investigation. I won't stand for corruption in the ranks! Not on my watch!"
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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"Is this a joke?" I muttered more to myself than anything, but the choice is clear. I have nothing to lose. So, "I choose the door on the right."
The door opened and inside of it was what looked like a haunted house, filled with people dressed up as characters and holding miscellanies weapons.
"You're lucky, not many people choose the freedom door." the King snarled with a wicked grin.
And with that being said, I was shoved into the room by the guard behind me. Instantly, I was met by five people holding weapons such as chainsaws or baseball bats covered in barbed wire.
"Beat us, and you get out of here. But if you lose, you become one of us." the clown on the far right said. More like laughed. But what they don't know is I was one of the King's guards not so long ago, but when I caught the thief that had been stealing all the goods within the city, I was framed. So one by one I took them out.
Bright light hit my eyes and the sound of slow clapping reached my ears as I dropped the last man.
"I knew I could count on you to take them out, John. I didn't have the balls to do it myself." the King said, proudness evident in his voice.
"Thanks, dad." I replied, rolling my eyes.
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"Seriously? 10 years in prison for stealing enough food to feed my family? Or possibly being tortured to death? Those are my options?"
"Well you could get lucky and pick freedom..."
"Still, doesn't that seem unusually cruel? Number one, I didn't hurt anyone. Hell, I didn't even bring a weapon. I slipped a lock in the middle of the night and took a weeks worth of groceries so my kids wouldn't go to sleep starving and crying. Number two, if you hadn't outsourced my mining gig to the dwarves, I wouldn't have lost my job in the first place and could have afforded all of that food with two days of work. And you think that's worth TEN years of my life, just languishing in a cell? Over groceries?! What kind of king are you?"
"I? I am the beacon of Justice! The one who'll erase the-"
"Shut up, you don't know shit about Justice. If you did, you'd arrest half of your own guardsmen for assault, rape, theft, illegal search and seizure, illegal arrests, and straight up murder. Just the other day I saw one of your guards approach a youth who was simply eating his dinner whilst atop his wagon and Immediately shoot the kid with his crossbow. Luckily he escaped and was later treated at the apothecary but that sounds like straight up attempted murder to me. Your guard never identified himself and tried to kill a child who was simply Eating On His Wagon. And that kind of shit happens Every Day, All Over your kingdom. And yet you think I'M the criminal who deserves 10 years behind bars? Where exactly is the JUSTICE in that?!"
"I uh... um. Hmm... If that's true... Guard, take him back to holding. And see that he's fed. I need to meet with my advisors. I think someone may be doctoring my weekly reports. Mayhap I need to conduct a little internal investigation. I won't stand for corruption in the ranks! Not on my watch!"
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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“Well, what will it be?” The King’s voice thundered.
I nearly shed a layer of skin when the echoes of his voice reached my ears.
“You have 3 choices. So choose, Thief. Door, Door, or Sentence.”
It was a pretty hefty choice, I mean, one door was marked ‘Freedom,’ the other Slow Torture unto Death’ or the third option was to sit and rot in prison for 10 years.
“Choices. Choices. Your Majesty. I am merely contemplating how I can possibly choose. They all sound so tempting. Man, who am I kidding? Obviously, we all know I’m going to pick FREEDOM!.” I shouted out the last word and it resounded throughout the chamber overlapping the echoing of the King’s voice.
I turned to the crowd of snooty royal ladies-n-waiting and their fellow abhorrent males in white tights while chanting, “Freedom. Freedom. Freedom!!”
The crowd only hesitated briefly, before taking up the chant. As I knew they would. Sheep. All of them. Stupid sheep. I stirred the crowd into a frenzy, waving my shackled hands conductor style, while I performed a little jig with my feet. The shouts of ‘Freedom’ transitioned to, “JAZ! JAZ! JAZ!” My name being yelled by thousands sent a delicate chill through my veins. A few of the ladies closest to my person, reached out to touch, before promptly swooning. I dazzled the glaring husbands with my teeth. They lunged and took a swing. I laughed.
“ENOUGH!!!” The King’s words sliced through the cacophony of voices like a spoon through cottage cheese.
“My humblest apologies, Your Majesty.” I sputtered and mockingly bowed. My body bobbed awkwardly on account of being lashed in chains.
The King remained silent.
As if a pin had suddenly dropped, an eerie stillness descended on the crowd.
He rose from the thrown and stood with both arms outstretched, horizontally, in a capital T shape.
He glanced down at me. His eyes pierced into what was left of my soul.
“It is finished.” The words rolled across me like grey wisps of smoke.
I coughed. The shackles fell away and I practically skipped towards the door marked ‘Freedom.’ I could feel the King’s eyes following me and I went to doff my imaginary cap at him, but something in his expression startled my sarcastic movement.
What was it? Was that sympathy etched into the lines around his eyes? A niggling sense of deja vu surfaced momentarily. It was squashed as quickly as the spider on the wall when the door swung open. I thrust one leg forward, turned on the ball of my foot to face the room one last time, and bellowed, “Thank ya Gov’ner!” before being engulfed by darkness.
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I took a deep breath and my eyelids fluttered open. Ahhh the sweet smell of freedom? It smelled the same like rotting fruit and pig feces. I took a swipe at the flys flitting in and out of my hair. Well Jaz, you’re free to do what you want now. Was I really free though?
There was only one way to find out. I talked myself to my feet and set off down the wide path for the city gates. The monstrous pieces of wood loomed endlessly into the sky.
I gulped. I hadn’t seen a single soul on the way to freedom which had turned the palms of my hands into clammy limp frogs. I sighed. This was the moment. I looked upwards and my amazement soared as the gates effortlessly, rotated showing me my first glimpse at freedom.
I practically flew through the small gap in my rush to look at the splendor spread before me. The rolling green meadows were filled to the brim with daisies. The beautiful sunshine hit my dirty skin and warmed me clear through to every sinew. A small smile landed on my lips before I gave birth to full-on giggles. It was exhilarating. How could we have never been allowed out here before?
The air smelled fresher than the cleanest laundry detergent. I sprinted forward. Stopping suddenly, I spun around in a wide circle with my arms outstretched, giggling delightfully.
I noted that the gates from the city had closed behind me, but I couldn’t spare a cent of my new freedom on that thought. I took off. Running towards freedom. Towards new life!
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Run! Faster! RUN!
I couldn’t run faster. I was panting so heavily, I could barely hear myself. Trees grasped at my legs and my hair with their spreading fingers. My feet pounded on the dirt path Would I make it back? Was I lost forever? It felt like I’d been running down the wide dirt path for eternity. How could it have only been a few hours?
A low growling and distant rumbling stirred my feet back to their frenzied pace. I had no chance to know what was chasing me. But I didn’t want to find out either. It had been so good at first! Freedom had been enchanting. Not doing anything. Being my own person. No rules. My own little world. Being on top of my own world. Self-sufficient. Free to go where I wanted.
Turns out, I was the only one here. I searched and couldn’t find another soul. Human soul that is. Whatever was chasing me was alive. Whether it had a soul or not was another thought entirely.
I was alone with whatever thing was chasing me. I had never been alone. I didn’t like it. I resented being this free. This isn’t what I had in mind. I knew I was going to be free of the King and his overbearing protection. But this? This was not likable.
The low growling turned to an ever-present roar that shook my eyeballs in their sockets. I wasn’t going to make it back alive. This world was going to eat me up and enjoy every morsel of my declining body.
The path bucked like a wild horse beneath my feet. I stumbled.
A sound like a woman keening reached my ears. I pivoted my head in the direction I thought the new noise hailed from. The keening followed me. I realized the cry came from the depths of my soul.
Appearing like ghosts in a cemetery, the wooden gates rose before me. I pounded my tiny fearful fist against the rough planks. Over and over.
The blood poured down my arms and splinters nestled into my palms like freckles over the bridge of a nose.
The sound of roaring, gnashing teeth, and endless wailing threatened to overwhelm me. I surrendered to the pressure battling against my human form and toppled to the ground.
While I raised my arm one last time towards the door, I gathered everything left within myself and whispered into the storm, “Please. Forgive me. I am sorry. I don’t want this.”
The King’s voice split the sky in two, “Yes, my child.”
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“Well, what will it be?” The King’s voice thundered.
I squinted, I was back in the courtroom. It was different this time.
The choice was the same.
Door. Door. Or sentence.
The markings on the doors had changed. Or had I changed? Had my outlook on life been reborn?
The door that previously had been marked Freedom now boasted the words, “The World,” and the door, “Slow torture, unto death.” now flaunted the words, “Come, Follow me.” Or I could pick neither of those options and go with the 10-year sentence, I’d been given.
I swallowed nervously. Did I even deserve the graciousness that the King had offered me? He had rescued me from my original decision. He had granted me the choices again. I fell to my knees, tears pooling.
“I don’t... I can’t..”
I felt the immense presence of the King and the gentleness of his hand as his finger tipped my chin upwards.
“No you don’t and no you can’t...but with me you do and you can.”
The King scooped me off the floor, back onto my feet, and wiped my tears.
Then together hand in hand we walked towards the door.
The crowd lifted up a joyous chant. "Welcome home, Jaz!"
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"Seriously? 10 years in prison for stealing enough food to feed my family? Or possibly being tortured to death? Those are my options?"
"Well you could get lucky and pick freedom..."
"Still, doesn't that seem unusually cruel? Number one, I didn't hurt anyone. Hell, I didn't even bring a weapon. I slipped a lock in the middle of the night and took a weeks worth of groceries so my kids wouldn't go to sleep starving and crying. Number two, if you hadn't outsourced my mining gig to the dwarves, I wouldn't have lost my job in the first place and could have afforded all of that food with two days of work. And you think that's worth TEN years of my life, just languishing in a cell? Over groceries?! What kind of king are you?"
"I? I am the beacon of Justice! The one who'll erase the-"
"Shut up, you don't know shit about Justice. If you did, you'd arrest half of your own guardsmen for assault, rape, theft, illegal search and seizure, illegal arrests, and straight up murder. Just the other day I saw one of your guards approach a youth who was simply eating his dinner whilst atop his wagon and Immediately shoot the kid with his crossbow. Luckily he escaped and was later treated at the apothecary but that sounds like straight up attempted murder to me. Your guard never identified himself and tried to kill a child who was simply Eating On His Wagon. And that kind of shit happens Every Day, All Over your kingdom. And yet you think I'M the criminal who deserves 10 years behind bars? Where exactly is the JUSTICE in that?!"
"I uh... um. Hmm... If that's true... Guard, take him back to holding. And see that he's fed. I need to meet with my advisors. I think someone may be doctoring my weekly reports. Mayhap I need to conduct a little internal investigation. I won't stand for corruption in the ranks! Not on my watch!"
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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I stared at the two doors, identical in every way. They weren’t terribly fancy—my father had far better doors leading into the hanging gardens, and my mother had far worse doors leading into her house. As it stood, they were simply doors. If I had hoped for a clue, it wasn’t going to be here.
I glanced back at the king, who stood triumphant on his dais, or perhaps would look more triumphant if the wind wasn’t causing the gold tassels to flick and flutter off the roof of his gilded dais and occasionally slap against his face. He didn’t duck or brush them away, which personally I felt took great resolve. He was pretending they weren’t there so everyone was pretending they weren’t there and if that little detail didn’t sum up the entirety of how this kingdom was run and the king himself, then I don’t know what would.
Ah, well. Some things you can fix and some you can’t. I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll just go back to my cell now.”
The king blinked, the corners of his wide grin flagging. “What, prisoner?”
I leaned forward a little. Maybe he’s half deaf. That would explain a lot. “I said, ‘I’ll just go back to my cell now,’ your highness. Or majesty. Or whatever you’re called—I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the vernacular of this dynamic.”
“I don’t,” the king glanced down at one of his advisors, who didn’t seem to appreciate the attention. “I don’t understand. She didn’t choose.”
“I did.” I wave dismissively at the doors. “I chose neither.”
“But you could have FREEDOM!” he proclaimed loudly, booming the last word so that the audience could hear and cheer accordingly.
“Or, and I can’t stress this enough, torture and death. 50/50 aren’t my kind of odds. I’m a 90% and higher kind of girl.”
“But you’ll rot away in prison.” The king looked truly appalled by my choice.
“Ten years really isn’t that long.”
“But the fanfare…” He looked around at the gathered crowds, the colorful banners that twisted in the wind, the freshly cleaned cobblestone and carefully placed doors. The musicians primed by the stage, advisors and nobles decked out in their finest attire.
“All very lovely,” I assured him. “But not lovely enough for me to risk death.”
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go,” the king grumbled to his advisor, who danced and squirmed under the pinned glare.
“We could always…remove the option to go back, your majesty?” His thin voice wavered and trembled.
“Well, I can with HER, now can I?!” the king raged. “I already gave her three options—oh, never mind. Bring out another prisoner. I should’ve known better than to use a witch on our first try.”
The guards shoved me roughly into the carriage. Fine by me. The whole display WAS lovely, but not for me, clearly, and I’m happy enough to return to my little cell with my stacks of books under my mattress and the new journal with crisp, clean pages one of the guards gifted me.
Some time later, slouched against my cell wall and reading the last chapter of a book, I heard the city roar, a collective shout of excitement and fervor. Some other criminal had been brought out and obviously made their choice.
I’d like to say the city was cheering the criminal’s correct choice of door and promised freedom, but knowing this city, probably not.
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"Seriously? 10 years in prison for stealing enough food to feed my family? Or possibly being tortured to death? Those are my options?"
"Well you could get lucky and pick freedom..."
"Still, doesn't that seem unusually cruel? Number one, I didn't hurt anyone. Hell, I didn't even bring a weapon. I slipped a lock in the middle of the night and took a weeks worth of groceries so my kids wouldn't go to sleep starving and crying. Number two, if you hadn't outsourced my mining gig to the dwarves, I wouldn't have lost my job in the first place and could have afforded all of that food with two days of work. And you think that's worth TEN years of my life, just languishing in a cell? Over groceries?! What kind of king are you?"
"I? I am the beacon of Justice! The one who'll erase the-"
"Shut up, you don't know shit about Justice. If you did, you'd arrest half of your own guardsmen for assault, rape, theft, illegal search and seizure, illegal arrests, and straight up murder. Just the other day I saw one of your guards approach a youth who was simply eating his dinner whilst atop his wagon and Immediately shoot the kid with his crossbow. Luckily he escaped and was later treated at the apothecary but that sounds like straight up attempted murder to me. Your guard never identified himself and tried to kill a child who was simply Eating On His Wagon. And that kind of shit happens Every Day, All Over your kingdom. And yet you think I'M the criminal who deserves 10 years behind bars? Where exactly is the JUSTICE in that?!"
"I uh... um. Hmm... If that's true... Guard, take him back to holding. And see that he's fed. I need to meet with my advisors. I think someone may be doctoring my weekly reports. Mayhap I need to conduct a little internal investigation. I won't stand for corruption in the ranks! Not on my watch!"
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
|
I stared at the two doors, identical in every way. They weren’t terribly fancy—my father had far better doors leading into the hanging gardens, and my mother had far worse doors leading into her house. As it stood, they were simply doors. If I had hoped for a clue, it wasn’t going to be here.
I glanced back at the king, who stood triumphant on his dais, or perhaps would look more triumphant if the wind wasn’t causing the gold tassels to flick and flutter off the roof of his gilded dais and occasionally slap against his face. He didn’t duck or brush them away, which personally I felt took great resolve. He was pretending they weren’t there so everyone was pretending they weren’t there and if that little detail didn’t sum up the entirety of how this kingdom was run and the king himself, then I don’t know what would.
Ah, well. Some things you can fix and some you can’t. I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll just go back to my cell now.”
The king blinked, the corners of his wide grin flagging. “What, prisoner?”
I leaned forward a little. Maybe he’s half deaf. That would explain a lot. “I said, ‘I’ll just go back to my cell now,’ your highness. Or majesty. Or whatever you’re called—I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the vernacular of this dynamic.”
“I don’t,” the king glanced down at one of his advisors, who didn’t seem to appreciate the attention. “I don’t understand. She didn’t choose.”
“I did.” I wave dismissively at the doors. “I chose neither.”
“But you could have FREEDOM!” he proclaimed loudly, booming the last word so that the audience could hear and cheer accordingly.
“Or, and I can’t stress this enough, torture and death. 50/50 aren’t my kind of odds. I’m a 90% and higher kind of girl.”
“But you’ll rot away in prison.” The king looked truly appalled by my choice.
“Ten years really isn’t that long.”
“But the fanfare…” He looked around at the gathered crowds, the colorful banners that twisted in the wind, the freshly cleaned cobblestone and carefully placed doors. The musicians primed by the stage, advisors and nobles decked out in their finest attire.
“All very lovely,” I assured him. “But not lovely enough for me to risk death.”
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go,” the king grumbled to his advisor, who danced and squirmed under the pinned glare.
“We could always…remove the option to go back, your majesty?” His thin voice wavered and trembled.
“Well, I can with HER, now can I?!” the king raged. “I already gave her three options—oh, never mind. Bring out another prisoner. I should’ve known better than to use a witch on our first try.”
The guards shoved me roughly into the carriage. Fine by me. The whole display WAS lovely, but not for me, clearly, and I’m happy enough to return to my little cell with my stacks of books under my mattress and the new journal with crisp, clean pages one of the guards gifted me.
Some time later, slouched against my cell wall and reading the last chapter of a book, I heard the city roar, a collective shout of excitement and fervor. Some other criminal had been brought out and obviously made their choice.
I’d like to say the city was cheering the criminal’s correct choice of door and promised freedom, but knowing this city, probably not.
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“Well, what will it be?” The King’s voice thundered.
I nearly shed a layer of skin when the echoes of his voice reached my ears.
“You have 3 choices. So choose, Thief. Door, Door, or Sentence.”
It was a pretty hefty choice, I mean, one door was marked ‘Freedom,’ the other Slow Torture unto Death’ or the third option was to sit and rot in prison for 10 years.
“Choices. Choices. Your Majesty. I am merely contemplating how I can possibly choose. They all sound so tempting. Man, who am I kidding? Obviously, we all know I’m going to pick FREEDOM!.” I shouted out the last word and it resounded throughout the chamber overlapping the echoing of the King’s voice.
I turned to the crowd of snooty royal ladies-n-waiting and their fellow abhorrent males in white tights while chanting, “Freedom. Freedom. Freedom!!”
The crowd only hesitated briefly, before taking up the chant. As I knew they would. Sheep. All of them. Stupid sheep. I stirred the crowd into a frenzy, waving my shackled hands conductor style, while I performed a little jig with my feet. The shouts of ‘Freedom’ transitioned to, “JAZ! JAZ! JAZ!” My name being yelled by thousands sent a delicate chill through my veins. A few of the ladies closest to my person, reached out to touch, before promptly swooning. I dazzled the glaring husbands with my teeth. They lunged and took a swing. I laughed.
“ENOUGH!!!” The King’s words sliced through the cacophony of voices like a spoon through cottage cheese.
“My humblest apologies, Your Majesty.” I sputtered and mockingly bowed. My body bobbed awkwardly on account of being lashed in chains.
The King remained silent.
As if a pin had suddenly dropped, an eerie stillness descended on the crowd.
He rose from the thrown and stood with both arms outstretched, horizontally, in a capital T shape.
He glanced down at me. His eyes pierced into what was left of my soul.
“It is finished.” The words rolled across me like grey wisps of smoke.
I coughed. The shackles fell away and I practically skipped towards the door marked ‘Freedom.’ I could feel the King’s eyes following me and I went to doff my imaginary cap at him, but something in his expression startled my sarcastic movement.
What was it? Was that sympathy etched into the lines around his eyes? A niggling sense of deja vu surfaced momentarily. It was squashed as quickly as the spider on the wall when the door swung open. I thrust one leg forward, turned on the ball of my foot to face the room one last time, and bellowed, “Thank ya Gov’ner!” before being engulfed by darkness.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I took a deep breath and my eyelids fluttered open. Ahhh the sweet smell of freedom? It smelled the same like rotting fruit and pig feces. I took a swipe at the flys flitting in and out of my hair. Well Jaz, you’re free to do what you want now. Was I really free though?
There was only one way to find out. I talked myself to my feet and set off down the wide path for the city gates. The monstrous pieces of wood loomed endlessly into the sky.
I gulped. I hadn’t seen a single soul on the way to freedom which had turned the palms of my hands into clammy limp frogs. I sighed. This was the moment. I looked upwards and my amazement soared as the gates effortlessly, rotated showing me my first glimpse at freedom.
I practically flew through the small gap in my rush to look at the splendor spread before me. The rolling green meadows were filled to the brim with daisies. The beautiful sunshine hit my dirty skin and warmed me clear through to every sinew. A small smile landed on my lips before I gave birth to full-on giggles. It was exhilarating. How could we have never been allowed out here before?
The air smelled fresher than the cleanest laundry detergent. I sprinted forward. Stopping suddenly, I spun around in a wide circle with my arms outstretched, giggling delightfully.
I noted that the gates from the city had closed behind me, but I couldn’t spare a cent of my new freedom on that thought. I took off. Running towards freedom. Towards new life!
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Run! Faster! RUN!
I couldn’t run faster. I was panting so heavily, I could barely hear myself. Trees grasped at my legs and my hair with their spreading fingers. My feet pounded on the dirt path Would I make it back? Was I lost forever? It felt like I’d been running down the wide dirt path for eternity. How could it have only been a few hours?
A low growling and distant rumbling stirred my feet back to their frenzied pace. I had no chance to know what was chasing me. But I didn’t want to find out either. It had been so good at first! Freedom had been enchanting. Not doing anything. Being my own person. No rules. My own little world. Being on top of my own world. Self-sufficient. Free to go where I wanted.
Turns out, I was the only one here. I searched and couldn’t find another soul. Human soul that is. Whatever was chasing me was alive. Whether it had a soul or not was another thought entirely.
I was alone with whatever thing was chasing me. I had never been alone. I didn’t like it. I resented being this free. This isn’t what I had in mind. I knew I was going to be free of the King and his overbearing protection. But this? This was not likable.
The low growling turned to an ever-present roar that shook my eyeballs in their sockets. I wasn’t going to make it back alive. This world was going to eat me up and enjoy every morsel of my declining body.
The path bucked like a wild horse beneath my feet. I stumbled.
A sound like a woman keening reached my ears. I pivoted my head in the direction I thought the new noise hailed from. The keening followed me. I realized the cry came from the depths of my soul.
Appearing like ghosts in a cemetery, the wooden gates rose before me. I pounded my tiny fearful fist against the rough planks. Over and over.
The blood poured down my arms and splinters nestled into my palms like freckles over the bridge of a nose.
The sound of roaring, gnashing teeth, and endless wailing threatened to overwhelm me. I surrendered to the pressure battling against my human form and toppled to the ground.
While I raised my arm one last time towards the door, I gathered everything left within myself and whispered into the storm, “Please. Forgive me. I am sorry. I don’t want this.”
The King’s voice split the sky in two, “Yes, my child.”
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Well, what will it be?” The King’s voice thundered.
I squinted, I was back in the courtroom. It was different this time.
The choice was the same.
Door. Door. Or sentence.
The markings on the doors had changed. Or had I changed? Had my outlook on life been reborn?
The door that previously had been marked Freedom now boasted the words, “The World,” and the door, “Slow torture, unto death.” now flaunted the words, “Come, Follow me.” Or I could pick neither of those options and go with the 10-year sentence, I’d been given.
I swallowed nervously. Did I even deserve the graciousness that the King had offered me? He had rescued me from my original decision. He had granted me the choices again. I fell to my knees, tears pooling.
“I don’t... I can’t..”
I felt the immense presence of the King and the gentleness of his hand as his finger tipped my chin upwards.
“No you don’t and no you can’t...but with me you do and you can.”
The King scooped me off the floor, back onto my feet, and wiped my tears.
Then together hand in hand we walked towards the door.
The crowd lifted up a joyous chant. "Welcome home, Jaz!"
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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I stared at the two doors, identical in every way. They weren’t terribly fancy—my father had far better doors leading into the hanging gardens, and my mother had far worse doors leading into her house. As it stood, they were simply doors. If I had hoped for a clue, it wasn’t going to be here.
I glanced back at the king, who stood triumphant on his dais, or perhaps would look more triumphant if the wind wasn’t causing the gold tassels to flick and flutter off the roof of his gilded dais and occasionally slap against his face. He didn’t duck or brush them away, which personally I felt took great resolve. He was pretending they weren’t there so everyone was pretending they weren’t there and if that little detail didn’t sum up the entirety of how this kingdom was run and the king himself, then I don’t know what would.
Ah, well. Some things you can fix and some you can’t. I shrugged. “Yeah, I’ll just go back to my cell now.”
The king blinked, the corners of his wide grin flagging. “What, prisoner?”
I leaned forward a little. Maybe he’s half deaf. That would explain a lot. “I said, ‘I’ll just go back to my cell now,’ your highness. Or majesty. Or whatever you’re called—I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with the vernacular of this dynamic.”
“I don’t,” the king glanced down at one of his advisors, who didn’t seem to appreciate the attention. “I don’t understand. She didn’t choose.”
“I did.” I wave dismissively at the doors. “I chose neither.”
“But you could have FREEDOM!” he proclaimed loudly, booming the last word so that the audience could hear and cheer accordingly.
“Or, and I can’t stress this enough, torture and death. 50/50 aren’t my kind of odds. I’m a 90% and higher kind of girl.”
“But you’ll rot away in prison.” The king looked truly appalled by my choice.
“Ten years really isn’t that long.”
“But the fanfare…” He looked around at the gathered crowds, the colorful banners that twisted in the wind, the freshly cleaned cobblestone and carefully placed doors. The musicians primed by the stage, advisors and nobles decked out in their finest attire.
“All very lovely,” I assured him. “But not lovely enough for me to risk death.”
“This isn’t the way it’s supposed to go,” the king grumbled to his advisor, who danced and squirmed under the pinned glare.
“We could always…remove the option to go back, your majesty?” His thin voice wavered and trembled.
“Well, I can with HER, now can I?!” the king raged. “I already gave her three options—oh, never mind. Bring out another prisoner. I should’ve known better than to use a witch on our first try.”
The guards shoved me roughly into the carriage. Fine by me. The whole display WAS lovely, but not for me, clearly, and I’m happy enough to return to my little cell with my stacks of books under my mattress and the new journal with crisp, clean pages one of the guards gifted me.
Some time later, slouched against my cell wall and reading the last chapter of a book, I heard the city roar, a collective shout of excitement and fervor. Some other criminal had been brought out and obviously made their choice.
I’d like to say the city was cheering the criminal’s correct choice of door and promised freedom, but knowing this city, probably not.
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“Choose!”, shouted the king, his voice booming. “The hour draws late, left or right, thief?”
He had considered his decision for weeks. It so happened that his grandfather had helped to build this castle and he thought if anyone had a chance of escaping to freedom, it would be him. Many a night as a child he sat up listening to his grandfather recount stories of the construction.
He told him of the castles’ many rooms and passageways. He explained to him the locations of its various entrances and secret exits. He knew his grandfather was lucky to have survived its completion to pass this information along to him, as a great number of his fellow laborers did not. Their bodies simply sealed into the walls as building progressed.
He snapped back to reality when he was shoved to the floor from behind by a guard.
“Left!”, he yelled with all his strength and looked up directly into King Rhône’s eyes.
The king stared at him, narrowing his eyes seemingly in disbelief.
“Open the door!”, boomed the king’s voice.
Two guards ran over to the left door and began unlocking it. It was an enormous, elegant, and elaborately designed double door that opened from the middle. Minutes ticked by as the guards worked to unlock it.
Finally, each guard took a separate door handle and began to pull. As the door opened, sunlight gleamed through the cracks and started to pour inside.
“Go now,” said the king, helping him up from the floor, “you have earned your freedom.”
Looking around wearily, he gave a small nod to King Rhône and ran off into the blinding sunlight as fast as he possibly could.
Once his eyes adjusted to the light outside, he looked around and could see he was in the court yard of the castle. From there, he knew to continue left across the drawbridge over the moat to the field just beyond the small castle town.
He had made it! He began to laugh as he ran. He was exhilarated! He began to think about his wife and children that he would soon be seeing again.
He got to the outskirts of the castle town and could see the field in the distance. He began to run faster and faster towards his freedom and his family. He ran until eventually a river blocked his path.
“Was this here before?” Never mind that, he thought, “I need to get across!”
He removed his shoes and climbed down on the river bank. He thought of his wife’s smiling face as he plunged into the cold, rushing waters.
Violent shaking, back and forth. The river was rough, he thought.
He opened his eyes to swim, but there was no water. The floor was hard. He soon realized that he was being shaken awake by a guard; the one that had shoved him down.
He lifted his head from the hard castle floor up to King Rhône who was still looking at him intently.
Wide eyed and adrenaline pumping he yelled “the left!”, with all the strength he could muster.
“Open the door!”, yelled the king. There was a slight excitement in his voice.
The guards walked silently over to the door and unlocked it slowly. As each guard pulled one of the double doors open, he softly closed his eyes and waited to feel the warm sunlight on his face; opening them only to behold a newly constructed torture chamber.
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[WP] A king offers criminals a choice. They can serve their prison sentence or choose between 2 doors: one leads to freedom, the other to a chamber where they will be slowly tortured to death. As a thief, you must choose: 10 years in prison or a door.
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“Seriously?” I said in total disbelief.
The king loomed above me. Decked out in an enormous crown and gold robes, he was surrounded by wise old men with huge beards on either sides. They examined me with curiosity, waiting for my reaction.
My lawyer, standing by my side, cleared his throat.
“Your honor, please be reasonable, that is not quite how the constitution says things are supposed to go—“
The king’s eyes widened.
“Constitution?” he spat, his voice growing louder, “I am your king. I AM the law! What I say is the constitution!”
He slammed a heavy gavel on his podium.
“I will not be challenged in my own courtroom. Is that understood?”
“Yikes,” said my lawyer, leaning into my ear, “This isn’t going to be easy.”
My lawyer took a deep breath and gave the king a genial smile.
“Your honor,” he started in a confident voice, gesturing towards me.
“My client is a good man. His father was a doctor, one of the best in our kingdom, I hear. What happened was an accident. I think he deserves more than a 50-50 chance because of how much his father has served our country. In light of this, maybe we should have a discovery of all the evidence and facts at play here, then maybe have a prosecutor and me, perhaps, joust it out in a verbal battle of persuasion while presenting the facts to convince a jury of peers as to whether—“
“Kill him,” came the King’s voice from above.
A bailiff slipped behind my lawyer with lightning quick speed and slid a knife through his throat in one smooth motion. My lawyer fell to his knees, clutching the open gash on his neck. He collapsed onto his face, slowly painting the carpet in blood.
I slowly let out an exhale, feeling my chest tighten.
“Excellent call, your majesty,” said one of the wise old men, nodding to the king.
“That guy was totally holding us back,” said the king, inspecting his fingernails. “I had to do what I had to do.
The king waved dismissively at me.
“Anyways, I guess you’re representing yourself now. I hope you make the right choice. I hope you know that only a fool would represent himself, by the way.”
I turned to face the end of the courtroom, trying to hide my fury from the king’s eyes while focusing on what I had to do to win my freedom.
Two doors stood side by side. One door was painted gold and had the fanciest doorknob I had ever seen in my life. The other door was wooden, frayed and dull. The smell of rotten wood emanated from it, and I could see a few maggots crawling around the handle too.
All eyes were on me.
I had to make the most important choice of my life. It was a 50-50 chance of hell or freedom.
But I had something to go by at least. Judging from how the king behaved, I made a wild guess and assumed the nice golden door led to the torture chamber, and the crappy door led to freedom. It’s just the kind of thing I would expect from someone who was batshit insane, and that seemed to fit the king to a tee.
I stepped forward, heading for the crappy door. No one said a thing, not a single whisper could be heard. I could have at least changed direction if I heard someone gasp or groan or something, but literally no one responded.
Finally reaching my door, I grabbed the handle and pulled.
..And stepped into the bright gleaming air of an afternoon sky. Clouds beaming above me, birds chattering in the trees.
I allowed myself a smile, and walked through the door triumphantly.
A crowd erupted around me. Dozens of my neighbors and what looked like half my village had showed up.
“Oh thank God!” came the cries of several people, and people laughed and hugged in celebration.
”Good job not getting killed, idiot,” came a voice from behind me. I turned to find my best friend, Walter, grinning at me.
“It’s a miracle,” said another voice. I turned to find Isabella grabbing me in a tight embrace.
The king strode imperiously through the door and all the cheers stopped.
“Well done,” said the king, smiling the smuggest smile you had ever seen on a human. “Congratulations for choosing the right door. As king and judge, I hereby declare you not guilty.”
The crowed allowed themselves a cheer at this. The king raised his hand.
“In recognition for your courage and innocence, I hereby give you the job of royal pissprophet, so you may put your medical talent to good use and serve our people once more.”
There was another cheer at this. Mixed with mumbles of confusion and surprise. But cheers nonetheless.
“Piss prophet?” I asked aloud.
One of the wise old men stepped towards me and leaned into my ear.
“The royal piss prophet. Carrying on your father’s talent, you will smell the urine of every man woman and child in the village bought to you in buckets every day. You will then declare them sick or healthy based on your interpretation of how they smell.”
“You can’t be serious,” I said, feeling like all the wind had gotten knocked out of me.
The king strode over to me, dangling a key from his hand.
“This is the key to the esteemed pissprophet’s chambers,” he said, smiling.
I accepted the key, looking at him blankly.
“Use it on the gold door tomorrow. I will have buckets delivered to you early in the morning, so make sure you arrive before sunrise. I hope you will serve as for another 10 years at least, as your father had done.”
The king walked away, laughing, his wise old men chuckling beside him.
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"The death of fools," Gromen laughed at the guard through the iron bars.
"You think so?"
"I'd bet half a copper that the torture is behind both doors. The king ain't freeing anyone. Not *that* king anyways. Just think how it looks to the nobility on Handlopen Hill. 'King releases thieves'. They'd spit their wine out of their fancy glasses before telling their butlers to pen a message to him screaming about the safety of the people. No, this is some kind of sick joke."
The guard shrugged. "Jail's too full."
"He wants to save a few coppers to not have to feed a few extra souls that rat-stock gruel we eat. Sick and twisted, that's what it is."
"Yeah, the pay is pretty bad for us too"
"Really? What kind of stingy king doesn't pay his guards well?"
"We're still a lot better off than your lot."
"Thieving pays well when you don't get caught."
"But you all get caught sooner or later," the guard cackled and lowered his helmet. "Let me know if you change your mind about that door."
"You know I won't."
News of any kind was rare in his tiny cell, so Gromen spent all of the next day trying to figure out why the king would suddenly come up with this strange proposition. He thought that the king was killing people who walked through either door, but he was led to wonder if that was really the case. Perhaps there was a way to tell which door would lead to freedom and which to torture. Curiosity getting the best of him, he concocted a plan to convince the guard to let him have an actual look at the doors. He waited until the guard came back with his daily meal.
"Guard. Listen up, I have a plan that can make you rich," he lied.
"Why should I listen to a thief?"
"Because some thieves are rich. Just like I am."
"Before you came here you were so poor you couldn't afford a place to sleep."
"Listen, I've got money buried outside of town. Not much, about ten gold pieces. Enough to put down on a good horse. All of it's yours if you take me to the doors so I can see them."
"I don't believe it, thief. You tell tall tales."
"I promise, as soon as I'm out of here, I'll get you the money. What's there to lose? You just got to take me to the door like you have other prisoners. Then you act like I changed my mind and take me back to my cell. Got it?"
"This sounds like a bad idea."
"You've taken other prisoners to the doors, right?"
"A few," the guard looked nervously from side to side.
"Then no big deal. Come on, just do it."
"Ten gold?"
"I swear on my mother's headstone."
"Alright. Come with me." The guard unlocked the cell and cuffed Gromen's hands behind his back, then led him through several corridors and into a circular room that had two solid red iron doors, neither of them letting any light or sound through.
Gromen was expecting more. "This is it?"
"Yup, that's it," the guard said.
"Guard," a voice spoke from above them.
Gromen looked up and saw a large white bird perched far above them. *Is that bird talking?*
"Yes?" the guard asked, looking up.
"Did this man bribe you to come see the doors?"
The guard looked around nervously. "Why yes he did."
The bird cawed and then flew down into the center of the room. "I thought so. You see, my dear Gromen, both of these doors lead to freedom. To believe that the king would torture prisoners to death slowly as punishment for picking the wrong door, and to be skeptical of the entire process, reflects the true mind of a thief. We knew that the unredeemable wouldn't come here."
"Sounds like a hell of a trick," Gromen said as he became hot with anger.
"Ahh, but dear Gromen, it is much worse for you. You couldn't turn down the opportunity to lie to this guard in order to find out which door was which. A truly conniving person you are. You are truly fit for the punishment that doesn't exist except for people like you, and you aren't the first. So a door will open in the floor and you will be sent to a death worse than you could possibly imagine."
"Wait, wait, wait-" Gromen pleaded.
"My dear guard, you too will not be spared the irons below. For taking a bribe from a prisoner is a crime punishable by death."
"No!" the guard screamed.
The bird flew off as the floor opened.
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[WP] When the alien ship crash lands on earth, all hands are dead. The only survivors are a clutch of eggs the adults died to protect. We quickly reach a consensus: we have to raise them, of course. No matter what... difficulties might come up.
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"Have you ever seen a cuckoo? Ugly little things, but a miracle of nature."
I stepped out onto the shore and relished the squish of wet sand between my toes just a moment too long, before turning to face my two new visitors. They were, of course, only pretending to fully listen but I continued.
"Detestable, perhaps, but relevant. Their mother lays their egg in the nest of another bird. When they hatch, they immediately push out opposing eggs in order to monopolize the attention of the parents. If the original birds dispose of the imposter egg, the cuckoo smashes the eggs of the parents in retaliation. That's how it perpetuates its existence for ages, by being a parasite, trapping its hosts by ensuring it will face consequences no matter what."
I held up my hands to stop the older of the pair before he interrupted. "Shh! I'm getting somewhere with this. Let me ask you this, when these alien colony ships crash landed on Earth, why did no government attempt to destroy their carried broods? The smashed bellies of these ships carried a couple hundred *thousand* eggs, easily enough to start a sustainable population on the planet and potentially disrupt ecosystems permanently", I gesticulated towards the enormous metal ship half settled into the sand a few miles from us.
"Besides red tape and the usual government indecision?" Tyler barely masked his irritation as he turned to face me directly. "I dunno, human kindness? I'd like to think we're better than immediately killing the first sign of intelligent life in the universe. Are you saying it would be better if you were dead? That would be enormously cruel to all the Arkeans that settled on Earth"
"That's not quite the point I'm trying to make, Tyler. I expected a top of the class xenoarchaeologist such as yourself would understand, surely. If there was an alien intelligence out there capable of seeding their young out into the wild cosmic ocean, then what would their elders be capable of?" I leaned in slowly and lowered my voice, "Do you think it is a coincidence that Arkeans just *happen* to be biocompatible with the ecosphere of Earth? No, they had incredibly advanced biotech, and modified their eggs to ensure their youth would be *utterly and absolutely* comfortable here. Their stay was meant to be permanent, not some quick cosmic layover." I unclenched my teeth slowly, hissing softly in discomfort. "They were *afraid*. And honestly, they were *right*!"
I admired the cloud streaked sky in that brief pause, savoring the salty, cool salty air of our home, and suppressed the irrational urge to splash my hands in the salty brine of an upcoming wave.
This beautiful home, our lovely Earth, the wonderful and ever entertaining humanity. How goddamn *close* they all were to seeing the world reshaped to these invaders' desires
"Do you have any idea how lucky the world was that their gravity safeties failed and turned their waking crew into smushed slop?"
"First off, woah! Lay off with the insensitivity" he couldn't help but shoot a private glance at his companion, who was still busy detachedly considering my words, before returning his fury to me. "That mushed slop was their parents! Do you not care that the Arkeans grew up without their family? Have a heart, for fuck's sake. They don't even know what they were supposed to be *like*, so forgive them if they don't fit into your backwards-ass interpretation of space invader, man"
"Tyler, please. He doesn't mean it that way" Ayla piped up in a reedy tone, before shooting a dark look at me that all but screamed: *don't overstep your boundaries, old timer*. "Us Arkeans know that Humanity has always had our best interests at heart, and we've been graciously accepted into our new home. To us, Humanity may as well collectively be our parents"
I turned to study her, completely. Arkeans are often compared to prehistoric raptors and it was a comparison I could not fully deny: tailless, and upright, small nostrils, with bat-like ridged ears at the sides of their head facing back, and thick toes supporting an almost animalistic stance. Glossy feathered, immaculately groomed fringes, her crest not even fully grown in. Third or fourth generation, by my estimations. I considered her fully in that moment. Young, foolish like I was. Gripped by a clueless enthusiasm that only youth could impel.
"Arkeans..." I waved my hand dismissively "Never liked that term. A naive term coined by the media in a frenzy to paint the arrival as some sort of romantic escape from destruction. *Like Noah's ark sent to save their kind.* Hogwash and we know it, don't we, Ayla? You're among the foremost experts we have on Arkean cytotechnology, and you know exactly what they were carrying. Gene scourges, meant to pacify humanity into being brainless caretakers for our kind. Dormant nanoswarms meant to disassemble any human monuments and repurpose them to building materials for their endless conquests. Exotic matter fold drives, meant to continue to spread their kind across the stars, endlessly parasitizing fresh civilizations for god knows what unethical purpose."
"But here's the thing. You aren't Arkean at all. You're **human**, through and through. Just like me. You live, love, breathe, eat, and bathe like a human. You coo over amusing pet videos, you swear at each other all the same through online games, you share friendships, you break bread with them. By what measure are you not? By body? No."
"We are not our progenitors, and you should be glad we are not."
I considered the enormous rusting hulk behind us. Too large to carry away or break down, but the hull was scored by ill advised attempts. I reached down to dust the sand out of my own feathers, brushing them smooth and flat before returning their uncomprehending gaze. "You do not know to what degree the Arkeans were prepared to subjugate humanity, and honestly, neither do we. Their little toys have continued to be thorns in our side for quite some time, half prepared as they were. But let me ask you this." I faced the sky again, and this time it was not quite as beautiful. In fact, it seemed dreadful, cold, remorseless; almost positively so.
"Don't you think it's a little odd that all of their ships malfunctioned before they hit Earth's atmosphere? Something odd, for a species well prepared as this"
"Now come, I didn't call you two over just to denigrate our ancestors. We found that something. Right over here, actually. Crash site Alpha, and you're going to need these security badges. These guys are shoot first, ask for paperwork later" I winked at my own poor humor, ignoring their groans. "Keep em pinned on you if you don't want a couple extra breathing holes."
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"What in the nine hells is that?" General Brixton said looking at the football sized creature resting in the infirmary "It's what came out of one off the eggs when it hatched" professor Lando said "And we are supposed to raise these?, in all my 30 years of this job I never though this would happen" the General said looking dumbfounded at the alien offspring.
The alien looked like one of those giant pill bugs that lived underwater, except it was a dark red and had a pair of blade-like forearms. "so what does it eat?" Brixton said "We have just been feeding it beetle jelly, the same stuff they use in those beetle fighting tournaments in Japan, for the most part it has been working." Lando said, observing and recording every movement of the creature "What do you mean by "for the most part"?" Brixton glanced over to Lando and raised an eyebrow.
"Well what we do know from observing the intact bodies of the aliens is that they likely came from a "Super earth" or a larger planet, meaning higher gravity, which means they grew to massive sizes to compensate, those guys where the size of school busses and weighed twice as much. I think you know where i'm going with this General.". Brixton paused and looked at the alien "What you're saying is that these guys are going to need a lot of that jelly." "Exactly, but that shouldn't be too big of a concern, after all this globally funded project. What we are worried about is whether or not they will grow properly given the fact they are on a planet of lower gravity." Brixton looked at the alien, to think that this thing may grow to be the size of a bus, that there would make one hell of a quarter back. But that was aside from the point.
"I'm sure that head of yours will come up with something Lando" Brixton said as he patted him on the shoulder, "They dont call you Einstein 2 for nothing"
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[WP] When the alien ship crash lands on earth, all hands are dead. The only survivors are a clutch of eggs the adults died to protect. We quickly reach a consensus: we have to raise them, of course. No matter what... difficulties might come up.
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The tour group going through the nursery consisted of congressmen, UN diplomats, and the president’s young daughter. The spokesman for the international scientific group running the facility looked both proud and nervous. “We replicated the interior of the xeno craft exactly. The floor the eggs are attached to was cut from the wreckage. The atmosphere here is breathable by both Humans and the Caretakers.”
A Congresswoman interjected “Caretakers?”
The spokesman continued “yes Ma’am, it’s the nickname we gave the race. In their final moments as they crashed into our planet they shielded their eggs with their own bodies. We realize this is subject to change after further research. Continuing about the atmosphere, we analyzed everything about the craft to the microscopic level. We know what the breathed and what proteins they need. We are just awaiting their birth. Any questions?”
Kenya’s diplomat asked “how long do we think it will be until birth?”
“We think soon, the eggs have grown nearly as large as the adults from the wreck.”
“Why do you think the eggs are from the dead aliens?” A quiet voice chimed in. “What?” The spokesman responded? The president’s daughter stepped forward. “How do you know the eggs belong to the aliens? What if they are something else”
the spokesman seemed confused “why else would they protect the eggs with their lives?”
The girls smiled and replied “they could be eggs of a space cuckoo, getting others to raise their young.”
Everyone chuckled at this until an alarm sounded. Turning to look at the eggs a large talon could be seen breaking through the exterior of a shell. Then another. Then a third.
The little girl made eye contact with the spokesman “ I guess we are going to find out.”
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"What in the nine hells is that?" General Brixton said looking at the football sized creature resting in the infirmary "It's what came out of one off the eggs when it hatched" professor Lando said "And we are supposed to raise these?, in all my 30 years of this job I never though this would happen" the General said looking dumbfounded at the alien offspring.
The alien looked like one of those giant pill bugs that lived underwater, except it was a dark red and had a pair of blade-like forearms. "so what does it eat?" Brixton said "We have just been feeding it beetle jelly, the same stuff they use in those beetle fighting tournaments in Japan, for the most part it has been working." Lando said, observing and recording every movement of the creature "What do you mean by "for the most part"?" Brixton glanced over to Lando and raised an eyebrow.
"Well what we do know from observing the intact bodies of the aliens is that they likely came from a "Super earth" or a larger planet, meaning higher gravity, which means they grew to massive sizes to compensate, those guys where the size of school busses and weighed twice as much. I think you know where i'm going with this General.". Brixton paused and looked at the alien "What you're saying is that these guys are going to need a lot of that jelly." "Exactly, but that shouldn't be too big of a concern, after all this globally funded project. What we are worried about is whether or not they will grow properly given the fact they are on a planet of lower gravity." Brixton looked at the alien, to think that this thing may grow to be the size of a bus, that there would make one hell of a quarter back. But that was aside from the point.
"I'm sure that head of yours will come up with something Lando" Brixton said as he patted him on the shoulder, "They dont call you Einstein 2 for nothing"
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[WP] When the alien ship crash lands on earth, all hands are dead. The only survivors are a clutch of eggs the adults died to protect. We quickly reach a consensus: we have to raise them, of course. No matter what... difficulties might come up.
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January 17th 2045
"Audio Log: Sarah Paisley.
Today we detected movement in incubation tanks one to five. We have reason to believe that this may indicate the life forms are fully developed and ready to-- well-- hatch. We haven't noticed any difference in tank six, though we believe, due to the damage taken after the crash, this egg may no longer be containing life. We are still unaware as to what this species may be and their needs but research has shown that Egg One (AKA: Albert), has shown a liking to music so if they do turn out to be evil we do have the movie Footloose on hand, ha.
These are the only updates for now.
Sarah signing off."
January 28th 2045
"Sarah here, today we finally got to meet our hatchlings. They're certainly unique little guys, we've noticed the texture of their skin will change based on the environment they're in. For example, Egg Two, or as we call them Big Bertha, had an accident in which the heating in their containment was damaged (the reason for the failure is still unknown), however, as a result, we discovered that when exposed to cold temperatures this species will develop a coat of fur in a matter of seconds. This suggests that their planet of origin has unpredictable weather. My guess is these guys come from Ohio-- I need to get off my phone during work hours, ha.
Signing off."
February 10th 2045
"Albert, Big Bertha, Carson, Delilah and Edgelord are now developing their methods of communication while Egg Six remains unmoved. When in need of attention, Albert is likely to vomit acid onto the floor. Yeah. Acid. The liquid appears to be unharmful to himself and others of their species but easily melts through our lab tables. They all have different personalities and despite their inability to speak any humanoid language they're capable of understanding and responding when given instructions. Carson, in particular, enjoys physical activities such as playing childhood games like catch. He gave my colleague a black eye the other day by putting a little too much effort into the sport."
December 25th 2045
"Today, we believe, our friends from another world reached their peak maturity. They stand around 6ft tall and no longer need to be cared for by staff. They roam the corridors and provide a helping hand to the team in engineering as well as assist the medical labs. Despite being raised on Earth by us humans, they seem to have retained the knowledge of those who came before them. As a result of this, further studies on their development are to be performed. Egg Six was, unfortunately, unable to sustain itself. However, the remains have allowed us to have an insight into the development of the creature and may I say it simply astonishes me. Their brains have evolved to have a telepathic link with one another, hence the lack of speech between them and us. Even though their species are so advanced, they still vomit acid at the idea of being asked to clean their mess."
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"What in the nine hells is that?" General Brixton said looking at the football sized creature resting in the infirmary "It's what came out of one off the eggs when it hatched" professor Lando said "And we are supposed to raise these?, in all my 30 years of this job I never though this would happen" the General said looking dumbfounded at the alien offspring.
The alien looked like one of those giant pill bugs that lived underwater, except it was a dark red and had a pair of blade-like forearms. "so what does it eat?" Brixton said "We have just been feeding it beetle jelly, the same stuff they use in those beetle fighting tournaments in Japan, for the most part it has been working." Lando said, observing and recording every movement of the creature "What do you mean by "for the most part"?" Brixton glanced over to Lando and raised an eyebrow.
"Well what we do know from observing the intact bodies of the aliens is that they likely came from a "Super earth" or a larger planet, meaning higher gravity, which means they grew to massive sizes to compensate, those guys where the size of school busses and weighed twice as much. I think you know where i'm going with this General.". Brixton paused and looked at the alien "What you're saying is that these guys are going to need a lot of that jelly." "Exactly, but that shouldn't be too big of a concern, after all this globally funded project. What we are worried about is whether or not they will grow properly given the fact they are on a planet of lower gravity." Brixton looked at the alien, to think that this thing may grow to be the size of a bus, that there would make one hell of a quarter back. But that was aside from the point.
"I'm sure that head of yours will come up with something Lando" Brixton said as he patted him on the shoulder, "They dont call you Einstein 2 for nothing"
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[WP] When the alien ship crash lands on earth, all hands are dead. The only survivors are a clutch of eggs the adults died to protect. We quickly reach a consensus: we have to raise them, of course. No matter what... difficulties might come up.
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'We' agreed. Of course 'we' referred to the usual suspects: the G20, the UN, the the western and northern hemispheres along with a few other despots the other side of the world.
It brought on quite the fervor, as you could imagine. Radio waves, forums, Youtube videos, all filled with chatter about Earth's latest guests. The religious painted their usual armageddon and second coming pictures. The data savvy turned to their models to predict the likelihood of various outcomes. The Trekkies began intensive alien language classes.
It brought the world together for a time. Same topic, same concern, same references to science fiction that would make or break the case for allowing alien lifeforms to survive. The clutch in the hands of countries who could afford the lab environment and constant security would be cast as harborers of potential WMDs and life ending disease. Surely the visitors would be invasive species to our flora and fauna. Whether Alien or Predator or Yeerk, it was foolhardy to welcome them in. Flip channels, and they were simultaneously technologically advanced beings capable of interstellar travel - who would be grateful to be raised and thus share their knowledge.
What if the species would come back to claim their young? Pleased to find them alive? Hold a grudge for corrupting them? How long would this experiment run on for? Who would fund it? What becomes of the ship? Who would handle that? Comic-con and scientific conferences took a bigger role on the world's stage and as years turned to decades, the eggs became a weekly footnote and then an annual 30 second segment. After all, rent was still very real and due next Friday.
Co-operation and science were sped up that bit more - how much due to the secret harvest of the ship versus the kumbaya proof of life brought I can't say. The idea this was also a test by a group of extra-terrestrials to gauge our moral compass was certainly the biggest factor in continuing things as long as we did.
Then on Wednesday, a report came in, broadcast worldwide. Any remaining signs of life we had been able to monitor had disappeared. For all we knew, the the survivors were no more. As the news made its way around the globe - a sort of cloud of realization set in. We ultimately weren't too much better off than we were when the event happened. Sure we got some new gadgets and movies, but we were unable to decipher the alien tech and biological make-up to a significant or meaningful degree. With the loss of a unifying figure, studies were stalled, alliances weakened, and national self-interests slowly crept in. We had no idea if we passed our test, if there was one to begin with, or if we would have any new, much more alive guests in the future. We still had our Earthly problems to contend with. It was a sobering notion for many - and one that would come and go like any other for many. Nevermind science fiction and reality had blended together for a few decades and that this truly was a hallmark event in the history of Earth itself. The survivors, after-all, could still be alive.
As these thoughts ran through my head I knew only one thing was for certain: Rent was still very real and due next Friday.
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"What in the nine hells is that?" General Brixton said looking at the football sized creature resting in the infirmary "It's what came out of one off the eggs when it hatched" professor Lando said "And we are supposed to raise these?, in all my 30 years of this job I never though this would happen" the General said looking dumbfounded at the alien offspring.
The alien looked like one of those giant pill bugs that lived underwater, except it was a dark red and had a pair of blade-like forearms. "so what does it eat?" Brixton said "We have just been feeding it beetle jelly, the same stuff they use in those beetle fighting tournaments in Japan, for the most part it has been working." Lando said, observing and recording every movement of the creature "What do you mean by "for the most part"?" Brixton glanced over to Lando and raised an eyebrow.
"Well what we do know from observing the intact bodies of the aliens is that they likely came from a "Super earth" or a larger planet, meaning higher gravity, which means they grew to massive sizes to compensate, those guys where the size of school busses and weighed twice as much. I think you know where i'm going with this General.". Brixton paused and looked at the alien "What you're saying is that these guys are going to need a lot of that jelly." "Exactly, but that shouldn't be too big of a concern, after all this globally funded project. What we are worried about is whether or not they will grow properly given the fact they are on a planet of lower gravity." Brixton looked at the alien, to think that this thing may grow to be the size of a bus, that there would make one hell of a quarter back. But that was aside from the point.
"I'm sure that head of yours will come up with something Lando" Brixton said as he patted him on the shoulder, "They dont call you Einstein 2 for nothing"
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[WP] When the alien ship crash lands on earth, all hands are dead. The only survivors are a clutch of eggs the adults died to protect. We quickly reach a consensus: we have to raise them, of course. No matter what... difficulties might come up.
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January 17th 2045
"Audio Log: Sarah Paisley.
Today we detected movement in incubation tanks one to five. We have reason to believe that this may indicate the life forms are fully developed and ready to-- well-- hatch. We haven't noticed any difference in tank six, though we believe, due to the damage taken after the crash, this egg may no longer be containing life. We are still unaware as to what this species may be and their needs but research has shown that Egg One (AKA: Albert), has shown a liking to music so if they do turn out to be evil we do have the movie Footloose on hand, ha.
These are the only updates for now.
Sarah signing off."
January 28th 2045
"Sarah here, today we finally got to meet our hatchlings. They're certainly unique little guys, we've noticed the texture of their skin will change based on the environment they're in. For example, Egg Two, or as we call them Big Bertha, had an accident in which the heating in their containment was damaged (the reason for the failure is still unknown), however, as a result, we discovered that when exposed to cold temperatures this species will develop a coat of fur in a matter of seconds. This suggests that their planet of origin has unpredictable weather. My guess is these guys come from Ohio-- I need to get off my phone during work hours, ha.
Signing off."
February 10th 2045
"Albert, Big Bertha, Carson, Delilah and Edgelord are now developing their methods of communication while Egg Six remains unmoved. When in need of attention, Albert is likely to vomit acid onto the floor. Yeah. Acid. The liquid appears to be unharmful to himself and others of their species but easily melts through our lab tables. They all have different personalities and despite their inability to speak any humanoid language they're capable of understanding and responding when given instructions. Carson, in particular, enjoys physical activities such as playing childhood games like catch. He gave my colleague a black eye the other day by putting a little too much effort into the sport."
December 25th 2045
"Today, we believe, our friends from another world reached their peak maturity. They stand around 6ft tall and no longer need to be cared for by staff. They roam the corridors and provide a helping hand to the team in engineering as well as assist the medical labs. Despite being raised on Earth by us humans, they seem to have retained the knowledge of those who came before them. As a result of this, further studies on their development are to be performed. Egg Six was, unfortunately, unable to sustain itself. However, the remains have allowed us to have an insight into the development of the creature and may I say it simply astonishes me. Their brains have evolved to have a telepathic link with one another, hence the lack of speech between them and us. Even though their species are so advanced, they still vomit acid at the idea of being asked to clean their mess."
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The tour group going through the nursery consisted of congressmen, UN diplomats, and the president’s young daughter. The spokesman for the international scientific group running the facility looked both proud and nervous. “We replicated the interior of the xeno craft exactly. The floor the eggs are attached to was cut from the wreckage. The atmosphere here is breathable by both Humans and the Caretakers.”
A Congresswoman interjected “Caretakers?”
The spokesman continued “yes Ma’am, it’s the nickname we gave the race. In their final moments as they crashed into our planet they shielded their eggs with their own bodies. We realize this is subject to change after further research. Continuing about the atmosphere, we analyzed everything about the craft to the microscopic level. We know what the breathed and what proteins they need. We are just awaiting their birth. Any questions?”
Kenya’s diplomat asked “how long do we think it will be until birth?”
“We think soon, the eggs have grown nearly as large as the adults from the wreck.”
“Why do you think the eggs are from the dead aliens?” A quiet voice chimed in. “What?” The spokesman responded? The president’s daughter stepped forward. “How do you know the eggs belong to the aliens? What if they are something else”
the spokesman seemed confused “why else would they protect the eggs with their lives?”
The girls smiled and replied “they could be eggs of a space cuckoo, getting others to raise their young.”
Everyone chuckled at this until an alarm sounded. Turning to look at the eggs a large talon could be seen breaking through the exterior of a shell. Then another. Then a third.
The little girl made eye contact with the spokesman “ I guess we are going to find out.”
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[WP] You're on a fourth date late one night at a restaurant - it's been going really well. After they get up to go to the toilet their phone starts to buzz incessantly. You can't help but crane your neck to see what the ruckus is about: "You need to get back now, the portal is closing, this is it".
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Part 3:
This one statement blew me completely away, I did not know how to react, a mushroom cloud explosion went off in my brain. I did not know what to do and it almost completely and utterly made me drop everything and leave the table at that moment, and I would have if hadn’t been for the fact that my whole body was melting into the cushion due to the THC in my system. This woman believed she had a tail and that I would believe she came from a whole other world filled with tail people, but insanity aside, she was remarkably beautiful and I had not been on a date with any other woman, especially one of this caliber, in a good long time. I kept listening.
She put her head down seemingly trying to figure out how to put her thoughts into words. "Look we got tails long ago. We were just like you, but somewhere along the way we started gaining more and more intelligence, which I'm sure in time your plane here will too, but as we gained more and more intelligence we needed to go somewhere with our brains so to speak. So our bodies started to evolve. We grew tales that basically are nothing but muscle and brains and bone. The brains within them are, I guess you could say specifically used for the purposes of controlling all of our bodily functions, leaving our brains in the skull to think, grow, and expand all thoughts, creativity, and technologies.” My jaw was now nearly on the table, drool falling out of my mouth, and at that moment the waiter chose to come over and get our orders. Before the waiter could even get a word out I looked at him and said, “Could you kindly fuck off a second while I chat with my date? She just told me she is a chimp from another planet." The waiter scoffed and walked off to more than likely find the manager.
I turned back to her and said, “You're telling me you have a tail that holds a whole other brain and that you need me, somebody who has basically nothing to offer you in terms of intelligence, or wealth, or even in good looks to go with you to another planet, or world, or some shit? And you expect me to believe that you need me to go with you because I'm critical to your family?”
She smiled. It was a beautiful smile, no maliciousness, just a calm peacefulness to it. "Look Travis, I promised that I would find a man to make my family happy, and now I am making a promise to you that I need you in my life and I want you in my life. I don't care that you spend your days just using weed all the time. I don’t care if you never seem to be getting anything done except figuring out ways to cover up all of your embarrassing qualities, which seem to be most of your qualities. I need you in my life, and if I don't come back with you my heart will be broken."
My thoughts were racing. She was going to take me into another world to and be by my side the whole time. She would do it as my wife, or lover, or whatever they called it on her side of things. I grinned at her and made my decision. "Alright fine, let's get out of here. "
The next section is planned but not finished.
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Part 2:
So here I was, back in the present, with no clue to where exactly I had veered this relationship off course. Shirley sat down at the table across from me smiling as she reached for her glass of white wine. I inadvertently looked away into the corner of the restaurant to keep from quickly confessing that I had been looking at her phone, knowing that if our eyes met I would blurt out the question in regards to what the fuck that text message meant. She started saying something, but it became static in the background as I ignored it and tried figuring out what all this between us was. Meanwhile, that question began to gain mass and substance as it weighed upon my heart. Honestly, things might have been okay as I calmed myself and just tried to play the hand being dealt, but that's when her phone started to vibrate again, snapping me into attention and putting my focus onto her entirely.
She picked it up, reading the message as a slight gasp escaped her lips. She muttered under her breath, "I thought I had more time. "
Looking her dead in the face and waiting for her eyes to meet mine I found myself blurting out, “Shirley what the hell is a portal? Where in the hell do you have to go? Again what the hell does a portal got to do with anything? Are you an alien or something?"
The first question got her attention, but the last one got her to snicker and her laughter combined with the ridiculousness of the whole situation nearly got me into a laughing fit as well. I had to be careful in this situation, remembering suddenly the rather large edible I had taken before this date to calm my nerves for the time when i needed to commit to my big reveal at the end of the dinner where I would tell her that I was broke and living out of a storage garage.
Tilting her head ever so slightly, quizzically, she asked, "Did you read my text messages?"
With too much work having been put in between dates one and four, it was time for this woman to explain to me more about these text messages. It wasn’t time for me to explain my one small indiscretion and invasion of privacy. I mean, come on, someone was texting her to help bail her out of what she considered a date awful enough to use some ridiculous Science Fiction excuse on, or maybe she was looking to have a nice dinner and then stiff me with an expensive bill. Well, no way, no how, I wouldn’t be the one shamed in this whole sordid affair.
Taking a deep breath I said, "Shirley, listen. I didn't look at your phone.” She squinted ever so slightly in response to what I had just said causing me to backtrack, “All right, all right, that was a lie. I did look at your phone and I am sorry but it was going off and it was like an earthquake at this table as it jiggled all the silverware, and cups, and plates, and everything. People began staring. And it just kept going off! When I saw that message I didn’t know what to think. A portal? Do you think so low of me that you're just gonna skip out of here? You know if you don't wanna be here just tell me.” With each word the fight seemed to drain from me.
A small smile formed in the corner of her lips as she stared intently at me, probing me, looking for some sort of information. "Travis, would you want to maybe accomplish your dream of becoming a travel rider?"
I looked at her, taking in and processing what she just asked me. I did really want to become a travel writer, it really was a dream that I held in very high regards, but at this point in my life I really had no clue how I was going to travel anywhere let alone even get on the correct bus home after this edible fully took ahold of me. I decided I would go with the half-truth. "Yes, I would love to travel and write all about my experiences, but it just doesn't really seem like it's in the cards for me right now. I'm just kind of between things right now. Very busy with—"
Shirley’s eyes bugged out of her head and she spit the wine she had been sipping out onto the table at the start of what became a roaring laughter. Some of the tables began staring at her. Placing her hands over mouth she stifled her laughter and apologized through her fingers to me and those craning their necks to listen in. Getting her composure back she looked at me again and said, "Travis, you and I both know that you probably haven't written a word since high school, and even then you probably couldn’t have written anything to save your life, let alone save your grades. Not to beat a dead horse that currently resides in a storage shed near the bus stop behind Lucky’s Lotto & Liquor, but you’re a real loser. You don’t work at all, and any money you do get ahold of you spend on weed and jerky. We went on how many dates and you paid for none of them, nor even had the decency to tell me the truth and ask to see if I wanted to help pay for us going out.”
My heart sank into my gut as I sat listening to her words. Then she went further and my gut seemed to sink into my ass pulling my gaze and posture down with it in defeat and embarrassment. I tried to say something in my defense but she wouldn’t give me space to do so and continued on. “Look I'm going to give it to you straight. I am from a different plane, a different frequency if you will. I needed to find someone to help make a family with. I thought I had a lot more time, but time in this plane doesn’t exactly move at a one-to-one ratio with my plane, and I have been on more dates with more people than I planned for and completely lost track of time. But honestly, and you need to hear this Travis, you're the best one I have found. You are the most loyal man, for all your faults, I have come across.” She reached for the last bit of her wine and gulped it back as if it were a shot, then gently setting the glass down with her left she reached out with her right and took my hand in hers and squeezed it reassuringly. “Travis I know you don't understand what exactly is happening, I'll explain it all to you eventually, but I do need an answer. Would you want to join me when I go through that portal into my plane, my world if that concept makes more sense to you?”
I suddenly saw red, her words toying with my emotions, I hissed, “What the holy hot fuck Shirley? You just want me to get up from the table and go to some other world with you? First of all I don't even believe you and I think you're insane! You told me you were a doctor. We both know you can’t be a doctor when you’re actually living in an imaginary life where you can walk between worlds.” My train of thought got lost, forcing me to stop in the middle of my tirade as the edible hit me in waves in and out of full couch lock mode.
“You’re right, I am not a doctor. But here your doctors don’t require much education to become a doctor. In my plane, six year olds could figure out in minutes what your best and brightest doctors couldn’t figure out in a lifetime. Don’t take offense though. Our plane made a decision to see intelligence as a guiding light, whereas yours focused on resource control and the best ways to snuff out life quicker and easier. We may seem alien, but we aren’t. We do have tails sort of like monkeys though, which I know might be weird to you when you get over there, so I have to warn you now.”
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[WP] You're on a fourth date late one night at a restaurant - it's been going really well. After they get up to go to the toilet their phone starts to buzz incessantly. You can't help but crane your neck to see what the ruckus is about: "You need to get back now, the portal is closing, this is it".
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Liz flinched and hid her screen. "You saw?"
"Yeah. I saw, all right." Josh slumped back in his seat and looked at her wistfully. Red-hair, a smattering of freckles across her nose, just a little shorter than him. She was just his type, and she even laughed at all his stupid jokes. "You don't have to try so hard to come up with an excuse."
She opened her mouth, then closed it. "Pardon?"
"Come on, I'm not stupid. A *portal*?" He laughed bitterly. "Gotta say, that has to be the most creative way to get out of a date I've seen."
She shook her head. "What are you even talking about?"
"What was it, then? I thought we clicked so well." He tapped his chin in thought. "Gotta be my jokes. It's my jokes, right?"
"Josh. Josh, look at me." She leaned forward and stared him in the eye. "Whatever you think this is, it's not that. I like you, *a lot*, but I have to go now."
"Of course you do," he said glumly. "Don't worry, I'll pick up the check."
She stared at him, her lips moving soundlessly as emotions warred on her face. Then, gripping his collar, she tugged him close and kissed him fiercely.
"Come with me," she breathed.
He gaped like a fish out of water. "Wha—how—"
"Come!" Reaching for her wallet, she slapped way too much money onto the table and pulled him across the restaurant. Her hair was wild and her face even wilder, and she had never been more beautiful.
"Where are you taking me?" he demanded. "Liz, let it go. You don't have to invent some ridiculous—"
"Shut up and follow," she hissed. Bursting out the front door, she glanced down her phone and turned decisively left.
Josh sighed and followed along; might as well humor her and see what was going on. They weaved through the passersby, her dragging him along, until she pulled him into a dim back alley. He halted, but she tugged him onward, consulting something like a map on her phone. Deeper into the shadows they went, then turned a corner, and then she let go of him at last.
He opened his mouth, then swore under his breath. Just ahead, the very space was warped, shimmering as it distorted the back alley behind it like a giant rotating lens.
"There," Liz said breathlessly. "Portal. *Now* do you believe me?"
He gaped at the portal, then at Liz. The frenetic energy seemed to have drained from her, and she stood fidgeting with her fingers and eyeing him uncertainly.
"Are..." He shook his head. "Are you a time traveler, then? Or an alien, or something like that?"
"Something like that." She worried her lip. "There's not much time. You coming with or not?" She extended her hand.
He considered her in silence. She hadn't even told him *what* she was, he couldn't help noticing. Then again... she found his jokes funny. "Oh, what the hell."
***
"So, anyway," he said, casting his glance over his three children. "That's how I met your mother."
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*Portal? What portal? Am I on a date with a scientist of some sort?*
As my date arrived from the restroom and glanced at her phone before sitting down, her face went white as if she'd seen a ghost, an eerie expression followed. She grabbed her wallet,paid for the meal, and took my hand. The next thing I know we're both in this ... lab.
*I feel sick.. this is too unre-*
I was cut off from my thoughts as a loud horn blasted aloud.
"__ALL PERSONNEL €€¥×¢€¥^__"
They spoke in some foreign tongue I saw on the internet, about an undercover language nobody was to know about. I froze, as my hand was still clenching my dates soft and elegant hand. Two people then approached.
"Dr.Zalichabi, the portal is unstable, we've gotten a few through though. You should get going, we can leave your significant other he-"
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do. I will take whatever and €¥¥¶¶` €¥¥∆¶`|€...." Zaki began to speak in that foreign tongue.
Zaki, or Dr. Zalichabi, is my date, or perhaps I'd say girlfriend as I think of her as one. She never told me her real name, but insisted I call her Zaki. She was a lovely person, beautiful black hair and brown eyes. When I first saw her, I knew we were meant to be.
"Follow me through the portal, darling." Zaki said soothingly, her smile could light millions of suns. I felt as if I was in a trap. Soul bounded to her, I couldn't move. Only think to myself as I followed her through it.
__...__
I should've stayed at home. The rest of my life would be hell. They tricked me into falling for her, they tricked me into becoming a subject of their slavery and tests for the rest of my life. When I get out, I'll come for everyone of their necks. Even the beautiful girl I thought were to be my wife.
Even through these depressing times, I've met people who've also fallen for other scumbags who needed more experiments. I heard their stories and felt so very sorry for them. Who wouldn't? My cell mate Matt, poor thing, he was barely an Adult when he got put into this hell hole. Fell for his girlfriends trap as well. We all fell for our significant other and was played a fool by them. After our capturing, it seemed as if we rarely seen them again. Thinking they couldn't face their betrayal, hatred.. the hatred we had in our eyes before we were put to sleep. It must have scared them to face their problems, to face their karma.
*Matt can you hear me?* I thought, not to myself though, to others as well, a magis we've collected from the testing.
*Yeah, I can-*
__LOUD HORNS__
Something unusual is bound to happen.
|
|
[WP] The demoness looks at the young and disheveled man that summoned. “Can you keep me company?” He asks, “this orbital station is so lonely.”
|
John was suffocating, drowning on the honey thick words. The frantic sensation lasted but a moment after he finished the incantation. As he hung weightless above the burning pentagram, he felt nothing. He was so desperate, he had resorted to fire code violations to end his loneliness. A spark of black fire, highlighted in white too bright to look at, twinkled at the top of the center candle as he dialed back on the gravity. Could it actually be working? No way.
Smoke began to fill the high-ceiling cafeteria, occluding the false skylight and staining the pastel stucco of this never to be finished all-inclusive paradise. He thought of all the rich saps that might never get to cuss out a waiter for under spooning their caviar or whatever. Almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.
“Attention,” called down an automated woman’s voice from above, vowels round as marbles. “Hot ash detected on muster group B, deploying suppression measures. Thank you for dining on August Grande Orbital Vista, stand back!” Hoses uncoiled themselves like whining snakes.
John looked about frantically, dragging a tablecloth to throw over the summoning circle. The black/white flame caught it instantly, sending a gout of blacker smoke to curl along the prefabricated arches.
“Hot ash! Hot ash!” the automated attendant bellowed, as sprinklers filled with foam began to spray, laser aimed at the candles. They dimmed lower every second.
“No!” John ran, unsure of his plan as he jumped into the circle, shielding the center flame from the foam with his body. The pain grew as the flame cut through his coveralls, then stopped, more than stopped. He felt great. Had he been afraid?
He wondered how anyone could be afraid in this warmth. A hand ending in long sharp nails reached up and touched his shoulder lightly, pushing him back.
“I’m very grateful, but you’re crushing me,” came a raspy woman’s voice.
John staggered back, getting to his feet. He tapped his chest, the burn didn’t go past the top layer of his uniform. He should still stop by the automatic med bay later, but it was hard to think about anything as he looked into the circle.
Other than the long black curling horns cutting through her silver hair, the sharp teeth resting on black lips, the almost talon-like nails on hands and feet and the fact she seemed to clock in at about 6 foot 9, she was the most amazing looking woman John had ever seen, real or holo.
She stood and brushed herself off, sending a cloud of soot up again. A small drip of more foam came from the ceiling in reply. “Ah,” she yelled, laughing. “Can you turn that off?”
“No, sorry,” John said, suddenly awkward beyond measure. This was the first human he had seen in over two years. But human wasn’t the right word, was it?
She stood at her full height and bowed, letting her smokey dark gray gown knock over two of the now thoroughly doused candles. “I am Arix, Princess of the Eighth Suffering, Legion Lure of the Blind! To what purpose have you summoned me, mortal?” she asked, hesitating as if trying to remember her next line. “That you might exchange your everlasting soul for my service?”
“Can you keep me company?” He asked, “this orbital station is so lonely.”
“Very well- wait really?” she asked, rocking her head back, raising an eyebrow, and looking him up and down. “That’s it?”
“What can I say?” John chuckled nervously. “I’m going a little stir-crazy out here.”
“Where are we?” She walked to a table by a window overlooking the titanic gas giant.” Holy shit, are we in space?”
“The most amazing vacation destination station in the galaxy,” John offered, following her like a puppy. “Or at least it will be once the striking shipbuilders guild comes here to finish it. The scale of the orbiting behemoth means it has to be assembled on location, smack dab in the middle of jack shit, and apparently, I was the only sop desperate for credits willing to cross the pickets and come out here.”
“So you’re all alone in this huge place?” she asked, stepping into the floral atrium. The demon looked like John did the first time he saw it. He hadn’t even seen a plant until he was nine. She dragged a claw across one of the apple trees. “How do you keep it running by yourself?”
“The automated systems do almost everything,” John said, grabbing an apple and taking a bite before handing it to her. She smirked and snatched it. “I’m really just here in case something fails, but there’s only so much one engineer could do anyway. Mainly I’ve been waiting for others to come, but I guess the strike’s still on and I’m stranded. I can’t access my bank account from here but I’m guessing I’m pretty rich by now, at least.”
“I see,” she said, holding the apple like a raccoon might horde a grand prize. “Do these work? Could you contact them? Your bosses?” She pointed to a row of monitors tucked behind a service wall.
“Password protected by the union, all the systems are,” John said. “I gave up trying like a year ago. Hey, do you think these air purifiers look like a techo laundromat?” John asked, pointing into the next room they passed. “I always thought so.”
She squeezed beside him to peek in. “Kinda yeah, but you’d have to feed your shirts in through the slit one at a time. I think they look more like the holes you stick your arms through at museums, and feel stuff you can’t see.”
“Wow, you’re right,” John said, smiling. That had never occurred to him.
“You know your soul is a pretty big thing to give up. Are you sure that’s all you want?” she asked, bending down to see him eye to eye.
“Yeah, I already feel so much better. All these thoughts bouncing around in my head were killing me. I even tried that thing from the movie where he painted a face on a ball and named it but my ball was an agitator from the pool and the cleaner system recalled it back after a few days.”
“Okay, it’s your soul. What do you want to show me next?” she asked, standing back up eagerly.
“Oh, you gotta see the karaoke room, the costumes in there are insane.” John said, eye going wide with his idea. “Wait, no, stay here and wait till I call you. You have to guess who I’m dressed like.”
“Alright,” Arix said, shaking her head as the man scampered through the hall. She had thought he was sly to sacrifice himself to save her but he didn’t even seem to know that meant he got his wish for free. Not a bad gig, besides. She was already growing fond of the human. This could be like a vacation.
She sauntered to the monitor terminal and bowed her head in unsanctified prayer. “Jaeryx,” she hissed in the abyssal tongue. “Find me a damned one, one who was a shipbuilder union member in life.”
“I have one on the racks now, Legion Lure,” the eager croaking voice came. "What would you like of him?"
"I need him to type something."
A severed and callous hand popped into existence and flopped energetically on the floor. She bent and picked it up before it could crawl away, holding it up to the terminal.
“Type your login details and I will give you a moment’s peace,” she offered cruelly, digging a claw below the cracked fingernail. The hand worked across the keys and the terminal chimed. John was still out of sight.
She dismissed the hand back to its suffering body and read the title of the first and only email sent to the station. “Station August Grande is abandoned in union deal. No further ships will be sent in or out.”
“Okay, come here,” John said. "Guess who I am!"
“Coming,” Arix said with a smirk, clicking the delete button.
/r/surinical
|
Something was not right. Something was very much not right. I could not feel anything but a hint of loneliness and regret. Where was the violence echoing, the psychopathy, the criminality and willful ignorance? Where was the hubris that made it all possible? Whenever i came to this plane of existence it was always there. There was at least something. But this felt off.
I looked at what my senses made me believe to be the singular source what i craved and kept me anchored in this plane.
"it...it worked.." he stammered. Looking at me wide eyed. It took me a second to realize that he was not on the ground, he was flying in mid air. Flying without wings, without technology i looked around and noticed i could not realize any sort of ecliptic. I was flying as well... or rather floating in this strange room. It looked like a tube 4 meters across. Mostly white to beige with Human machines littering each and every surface.
I tried to get closer to the human but as i was floating i was just flailing my arms and legs around starting to spin and slowly float in the opposite direction.
"Calm down" he said holding one hand up and another one behind him. I sensed he held something. A Weapon of sort. Wearing gray clothes with a red badge showing a ball printed on it was "Singularity Lab Mykanda"
"Where am i! What is this?" i finally asked. I was at the end of my wits. Holding on to some railing at the end of the room holding myself to the wall to at least get a semblance of reality back.
"You are in Space." he said. And it dawned on me. They have advanced beyond what we thought was possible. Indeed, no pull. No Gravity, that explains it.
I probed his mind, staring at the human intensely and made it in. But nothing made sense as well. Yes base emotions where all there. language aswell, but there was something wrong. Something was off. I blinked and exited, trying to take over, to enthrall him was dangerous without first figuring out what this was. I looked around and saw a black surface, i squinted and saw what looked like stars.
"Go ahead look outside, that will explain everything." he said. still keeping his distance.
'Outside', what a relieve. I slowly made my way towards this window of his grabbing carefully whatever i could get a hold off, trying to press my body at the wall as not to float into the middle and possibly get stuck there like a moth that feel into a cup of water. Eventually i made it and looked out. What i saw beggared belief. A strange black sun, with a violent disk was in the distance, but towering infront was a giant planet, dark and almost glowing.
"The big one is a brown dwarf. We call it Mykanda. The Black hole in the distance is PS49X we are currently in the Pegasus galaxy. You cant see the milky way from here, its too bright here, too many gases. You know why i summoned you?" he finally said.
How is this possible. He mentioned black hole and a galaxy. The last time i heard about it was when the humans just finished their second world war. When they experimented with weapons by splitting atoms. It was 1956 then. How long has it been since? I tried to remember. But came up blank. I turned my head away from the window and looked at some of the monitors, one of them, displaying graphs that didnt concern me hid the information in the top right corner. *April 29. 2719*
"its been 760 years!" I shouted.
"Thats how long you where gone? Incredible!"
"I demand to know what this is about." I had it. If anyone knew about scheming and setting up traps it was me, and this reeked like one. One for me!
He laughed and smiled "Honestly i was lonely i work alone here, and i cannot leave. There is nothing and nobody here. There also wont be."
I relaxed a bit, he was being truthful, yet still not saying everything. Seems my intuition was right, he was lonely. Not maddeningly so, but close to getting there eventually. There was no one close by. But still something was not right, i should at least feel the echoes of long past worlds, their death-throws, something that could sustain me on a low level. "Why wont there be anyone else here?" I asked.
He looked towards a larger monitor and without touching anything the monitor started display what i presumed to be a simplified model of the station and the surrounding celestial objects. "This station was build to study the effects of time and reality itself. At this point" a red circle was drawn around what i assume is this vessel "is in a sense disconnected from most of the universe. This rouge brown dwarf is going to fall into the black hole in a couple of years. The station itself orbits it and there is nothing we can do to stop it." He looked a bit sad, when he said it.
I started to feel what he meant. The blackhole was indeed a deep dark hole, like a headache moving slowly across my skull i could sense its presence. It was pure terrifying nothingness. It was terrifying. "What is your name?" i finally asked.
"Felix Opton, and yours?" he asked.
"Aliana the corrupter " i said with a smile, that quickly vanished as i realized one very important thing. He didnt lie, he truly believed that there was no way out. Which meant that i was stuck here. Doomed to fall into the hole. I could harm him, he was the only mortal around. There was nothing else. I got angry "Why have you done this!" I pounded with my fist on the side of the vessel, smashing some machine in the process. Shortly afterwards the area was underlined with a red light and tiny insectlike machines, came crawling over the surface, crawling over me to get to the spot where my rage was concentrated. They where repairing it right infront of my eyes.
"Dont do that please. If you break it, you will just fall into the blackhole. Alone." he showed his right hand now. Holding a gun. It looked a bit different from what i remembered but all in all it was probably one of these fine instruments of death the humans where so fond of. "I dont think i im going to need this. "You where part of my research. We figured out that Demons are infact real" Pointing at me. "Well at least in one special reality, not in this one. But in the one i was researching you exist as energy riding along the magnetic field of the earth. We use a captured naked singularity and connect with to probes we sent into the blackhole. Via this method we can access a multitude of realities, when i found yours i knew i wouldnt be alone anymore. You are energy, information in a sense. Simply accessing it, turned you into...well you. And as i am the only source of nourishment for you. It would be unwise for you to harm me in any way. All the data get sent home. There is nobody else but me, so lets get comfortable with each other, Aliana."
|
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[WP] The demoness looks at the young and disheveled man that summoned. “Can you keep me company?” He asks, “this orbital station is so lonely.”
|
John was suffocating, drowning on the honey thick words. The frantic sensation lasted but a moment after he finished the incantation. As he hung weightless above the burning pentagram, he felt nothing. He was so desperate, he had resorted to fire code violations to end his loneliness. A spark of black fire, highlighted in white too bright to look at, twinkled at the top of the center candle as he dialed back on the gravity. Could it actually be working? No way.
Smoke began to fill the high-ceiling cafeteria, occluding the false skylight and staining the pastel stucco of this never to be finished all-inclusive paradise. He thought of all the rich saps that might never get to cuss out a waiter for under spooning their caviar or whatever. Almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.
“Attention,” called down an automated woman’s voice from above, vowels round as marbles. “Hot ash detected on muster group B, deploying suppression measures. Thank you for dining on August Grande Orbital Vista, stand back!” Hoses uncoiled themselves like whining snakes.
John looked about frantically, dragging a tablecloth to throw over the summoning circle. The black/white flame caught it instantly, sending a gout of blacker smoke to curl along the prefabricated arches.
“Hot ash! Hot ash!” the automated attendant bellowed, as sprinklers filled with foam began to spray, laser aimed at the candles. They dimmed lower every second.
“No!” John ran, unsure of his plan as he jumped into the circle, shielding the center flame from the foam with his body. The pain grew as the flame cut through his coveralls, then stopped, more than stopped. He felt great. Had he been afraid?
He wondered how anyone could be afraid in this warmth. A hand ending in long sharp nails reached up and touched his shoulder lightly, pushing him back.
“I’m very grateful, but you’re crushing me,” came a raspy woman’s voice.
John staggered back, getting to his feet. He tapped his chest, the burn didn’t go past the top layer of his uniform. He should still stop by the automatic med bay later, but it was hard to think about anything as he looked into the circle.
Other than the long black curling horns cutting through her silver hair, the sharp teeth resting on black lips, the almost talon-like nails on hands and feet and the fact she seemed to clock in at about 6 foot 9, she was the most amazing looking woman John had ever seen, real or holo.
She stood and brushed herself off, sending a cloud of soot up again. A small drip of more foam came from the ceiling in reply. “Ah,” she yelled, laughing. “Can you turn that off?”
“No, sorry,” John said, suddenly awkward beyond measure. This was the first human he had seen in over two years. But human wasn’t the right word, was it?
She stood at her full height and bowed, letting her smokey dark gray gown knock over two of the now thoroughly doused candles. “I am Arix, Princess of the Eighth Suffering, Legion Lure of the Blind! To what purpose have you summoned me, mortal?” she asked, hesitating as if trying to remember her next line. “That you might exchange your everlasting soul for my service?”
“Can you keep me company?” He asked, “this orbital station is so lonely.”
“Very well- wait really?” she asked, rocking her head back, raising an eyebrow, and looking him up and down. “That’s it?”
“What can I say?” John chuckled nervously. “I’m going a little stir-crazy out here.”
“Where are we?” She walked to a table by a window overlooking the titanic gas giant.” Holy shit, are we in space?”
“The most amazing vacation destination station in the galaxy,” John offered, following her like a puppy. “Or at least it will be once the striking shipbuilders guild comes here to finish it. The scale of the orbiting behemoth means it has to be assembled on location, smack dab in the middle of jack shit, and apparently, I was the only sop desperate for credits willing to cross the pickets and come out here.”
“So you’re all alone in this huge place?” she asked, stepping into the floral atrium. The demon looked like John did the first time he saw it. He hadn’t even seen a plant until he was nine. She dragged a claw across one of the apple trees. “How do you keep it running by yourself?”
“The automated systems do almost everything,” John said, grabbing an apple and taking a bite before handing it to her. She smirked and snatched it. “I’m really just here in case something fails, but there’s only so much one engineer could do anyway. Mainly I’ve been waiting for others to come, but I guess the strike’s still on and I’m stranded. I can’t access my bank account from here but I’m guessing I’m pretty rich by now, at least.”
“I see,” she said, holding the apple like a raccoon might horde a grand prize. “Do these work? Could you contact them? Your bosses?” She pointed to a row of monitors tucked behind a service wall.
“Password protected by the union, all the systems are,” John said. “I gave up trying like a year ago. Hey, do you think these air purifiers look like a techo laundromat?” John asked, pointing into the next room they passed. “I always thought so.”
She squeezed beside him to peek in. “Kinda yeah, but you’d have to feed your shirts in through the slit one at a time. I think they look more like the holes you stick your arms through at museums, and feel stuff you can’t see.”
“Wow, you’re right,” John said, smiling. That had never occurred to him.
“You know your soul is a pretty big thing to give up. Are you sure that’s all you want?” she asked, bending down to see him eye to eye.
“Yeah, I already feel so much better. All these thoughts bouncing around in my head were killing me. I even tried that thing from the movie where he painted a face on a ball and named it but my ball was an agitator from the pool and the cleaner system recalled it back after a few days.”
“Okay, it’s your soul. What do you want to show me next?” she asked, standing back up eagerly.
“Oh, you gotta see the karaoke room, the costumes in there are insane.” John said, eye going wide with his idea. “Wait, no, stay here and wait till I call you. You have to guess who I’m dressed like.”
“Alright,” Arix said, shaking her head as the man scampered through the hall. She had thought he was sly to sacrifice himself to save her but he didn’t even seem to know that meant he got his wish for free. Not a bad gig, besides. She was already growing fond of the human. This could be like a vacation.
She sauntered to the monitor terminal and bowed her head in unsanctified prayer. “Jaeryx,” she hissed in the abyssal tongue. “Find me a damned one, one who was a shipbuilder union member in life.”
“I have one on the racks now, Legion Lure,” the eager croaking voice came. "What would you like of him?"
"I need him to type something."
A severed and callous hand popped into existence and flopped energetically on the floor. She bent and picked it up before it could crawl away, holding it up to the terminal.
“Type your login details and I will give you a moment’s peace,” she offered cruelly, digging a claw below the cracked fingernail. The hand worked across the keys and the terminal chimed. John was still out of sight.
She dismissed the hand back to its suffering body and read the title of the first and only email sent to the station. “Station August Grande is abandoned in union deal. No further ships will be sent in or out.”
“Okay, come here,” John said. "Guess who I am!"
“Coming,” Arix said with a smirk, clicking the delete button.
/r/surinical
|
As the portal devoured my body and soul, and transported it to new surroundings, I had just heard the news. Hell and Heaven were full, save for one soul.
I reincorporated in a small metal room, with a man wearing shredded clothes and lank autumnal hair streaking down to a grim frizz of a beard. He was bleeding from a pricked finger, runes and sigil adorning the walls.
He rasped at me. "Can you keep me company? This orbital station is so lonely." I swept my tail languidly, my aura penetrating even his bony form.
I didn't have the heart to tell him.
I stood to my full height, watching him smile, and feeling his despair as the hostile truth he was keeping from himself had sunk in. It was *delicious.*
I let my bladed legs bounce a few times before bounding over to him, and sat on the floor as he summoned the strength to crawl to me. I savoured his exquisite agony, knowing this would be the last time I would do so for a long time.
It took a long time for him to get to me, and I felt ecstatic the entire time. After an interminable amount of time (and the solaris moving a degree in the air) he rested his head on me, gasping at the exertion.
He rested his head on my lap, and I cradled him ,as he whispered, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." getting weaker with each one. The taste was organically pleasurable, for I knew what was coming next.
He faded into unconsciousness, breathing slowing on my lap, and I tasted the light of life as it transmuted into cessation.
It took a few minutes before that blinding pleasure faded, and humanity itself breathed its last. I collected the remnants and opened a portal to the great scales, to be judged by the multiverse.
|
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[WP] "You fool!" cackled the Dark One, "No man can kill me!" "But I am no man!" bellowed the hero, as he unhinged his jaw. A grotesque sound filled the hall as they hacked up impossibly large balls of cloth. Unfurling, they stand and announce "For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!"
|
Time takes a lot out of you, so when you've lived as long as I have it only becomes even more true by the day. I had seen a lot of things in the centuries that I have lived; witnessed whole kingdoms disappear to the wear of time, watched great leaders rise and fall. Some great ones fall to such meager things as illness or brain rot. Some petty men rise only because the latter had died.
I remembered names that even the books had since forgotten. Some that even I, in my position, would call great men. But *this* shit? I had never seen anything even near the realm of this.
When the little guy had first entered I thought it was a joke. *Him* take on *me*? My reign was ever eternal, ever night, while he was a 3 foot 2 manlet with a chin as soft as my thrones upholstery. So I humored the little guy. I mean, he had managed to make it passed my legionnaire, he at least deserved my speech.
You fool!" I had cackled, "No man can kill me!"
"But I am no man!" he bellowed in confidence, mouth unmoving. Which I thought was weird, but then the really strange shit started. He bent over, limp as a corpse, and started hacking up a lung. I watched frozen in horror as from his mouth a tan sleeve fell loose, then more and more of a coat until a whole impossibly large bundle of cloth was produced in a wad.
"Well that was rather distur-" I had yelled down
"But wait! Theres more!" he replied, and we sat five more minutes as he produced two more coats from his mouth before the halfling body fell in a loose pile of skin.
"For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!" The coats announced as they unfurled and stood. I remember how proudly they said it, as if they'd done anything other than just disturb me for the rest of my years. Each one drew a weapon and held it in their limp sleeves ready to face me, but me? Oh, I got the hell out of there. I came straight here.
Across the room a skeleton wearing a broken pair of glasses looked to me with empty sockets. I felt silly on the couch again, but Burgees had been the best therapist in life and I needed him now more than ever.
"So, where are they now?" he asked with a voice like a strong wind.
I gestured to the door at the far wall, and behind it I could hear the sounds of those things. Those coats running around in my lair. One knocked on the door. "Are you in here evil doer? Come out and fight us!"
"No I'm not, so just...fuck off with you."
A long silence was the reply. Burgees adjusted his glasses with a bony hand.
"So do you have a plan?"
"Plan? Burgess I just saw some of the most fucked up shit in my life. I think im retired. Plus that old lady a few hundred years ago, remember her? She said I'd be defeated by *men of the cloth* at the time I thought she meant a priest or something, but this seems to be them."
"Oh...ok. I guess Ill go with you then." hearing him say that gave me a bit of comfort. Burgees had always been a loyal friend, and I'd need him for the next chapter of my life.
But suddenly I felt a sharp pain shoot through my stomach. Upon looking down a bloodied, thin piece of metal potruded from me, blood dripping down the blade. A rapier, pushed cleanly through me. Behind me the voice of a trenchcoat spoke. "Haha! Got you evildoer. You didn't even hear me come in did you!"
"Ho- how did you.." I pushed out the words through my pain.
"Slipped under the door! I bet you didn't expect that!" for emphasis the coat then yanked the rapier out from my stomach.
I looked over to the thin crack under the door where two more trenchcoats were pushing their way in. It was right. I had not noticed. One coat pulled Burgees down to his chair, strapping him in using its sleeves. I turned to face the other.
"Wha-what the fuck are you."
"Im glad you asked!" It leaned in close, placing a tan sleeve on my shoulder. The voice emanated from somewhere beneath the buttons. "We were three trenchcoats in a halfling, but now? Now I think we'll be three trenchcoats in an Evil Lord."
The coat climbed up my body, forcing open my clenched jaw with a sleeve. As I faded away the last thing I felt was the cloth choking me as it went down.
|
The Dark Lord’s first reaction was, surprisingly, mirth. He thought the heroes had simply misspoken. Three halflings in a trench coat was an uncommon archetype, but nothing he’s never heard of.
As such, imagine the simultaneous mix of revulsion and fascination that welled from within him, like a snowball so yellow that it passed the invisible, but commonly agreed-on valley of distaste right into the hellish depths of morbid curiosity.
The three trench coats were utterly drenched with sticky fluids, smelling like something fishy that had been left to dry in the sun and then promptly forgotten about. They were black. Or at least, the Dark Lord hoped they were black, and not some colour that has since been dyed improperly.
The halfling that once stood before him bravely was now sprawled on the ground, his jaw in a state that can only be described as too open. The chest heaved and ho, indicating a modicum of life still inside him.
The Dark Lord, who had a gigantic god complex since he was little, then chose to invoke a blasphemous name in his complete shock.
“What in god’s name is this abomination?”
The trench coats stood. Sat. Laid? Somehow, they were upright with nothing to support them. One collar started flapping incessantly.”
“We are trench coats,” a muffled voice came through the middle coat. “Fairly common around these parts.”
“I’m sorry, but I am physically convulsing from the sheer, visceral disgust, like thousands of bugs crawling about in my bloodstream—which, trust me, is a torture so horrendous that I’ve kindly elected to keep it out of my personal torture dungeon,” the Dark Lord gagged. “Talking trench coats. Hacked from a halfling’s poor, undersized throat. And you call yourself common?”
“Hey,” the right coat complained. “Don’t bring race into this. We’ve had a hard time trying to make others take us seriously.”
“Race?” the Dark Lord whispered, bewildered. “You are—”
“You are deliberately misunderstanding the point, Dark Lord!” the middle coat shouted again, to vigorous collar flaps from the other two. “We are no men! And we are here to take you down!”
“Trench coats,” the Dark Lord shook his head. “I don’t see how you can…”
The coats started trudging towards him, the bottom of their floating coats barely swishing the floors. The Dark Lord was prepared to simply laugh, then burn every bit of thread up with the strongest fireballs he could muster.
Which he did. He was a powerful being. It came with being named the Dark Lord. It took a certain amount of prestige and ability to simply being known by a sole title that no one else dared to claim.
The trench coats, unfortunately, could not stand against fire that sprouted from every which where, hotter than the average hellfire pillar. The Dark Lord would know—the devil often tried to obtain this very spell for himself.
But as the coats burned, the Dark Lord had the audacity to breathe in deeply, in preparation for a solid sigh of satisfaction.
The smell had spread. Even the choking ash paled in comparison. What wafted through the air now was something so pungent that it would have killed a lesser man.
In the Dark Lord’s case, he stumbled to grab hold of a nearby pillar. He struggled against the innate desire to breathe deeply, in order to prevent himself from drowning from the inhuman odour that now spread across the room.
That day, the Dark Lord did not die.
But he gained a new nightmare. Something which no hero had ever done before.
And he realized—sometimes, even gods can cry themselves to sleep in a room filled with lavender incense to drown out the smelly memories.
---
r/dexdrafts
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[WP] "You fool!" cackled the Dark One, "No man can kill me!" "But I am no man!" bellowed the hero, as he unhinged his jaw. A grotesque sound filled the hall as they hacked up impossibly large balls of cloth. Unfurling, they stand and announce "For we are actually three trench coats in a halfling!"
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The Dark One stared in abject horror, unsure how to proceed. To have watched such a young boy practically break his lower jaw apart just for three brown, sentient 𝘫𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘵𝘴 crawl out from his throat... even the Dark One was scared.
"Well?! Aren't you going to do something," one of the trench coats asked.
"I believe he is in shock, brother," another replied.
"Then we shall kill him where he stands," the third proclaimed.
The third charged towards the Dark One, but before he could reach the evil man, he held up his hand and the three coats froze in place.
"Yeah... I need to take five," the Dark One informed them. "This is just... so, so wrong on so many levels."
"Face us now, you coward," the first coat shouted.
Rather than respond, the Dark One just walked off, ignoring the threats and comments made by three trench coats.
How were they even alive? How did they work? He was supposed to be a master at the magical arts, and yet here stood these monstrosities, and he had no clue as to what made these things. And how did they manage to disguise themselves as a human child?
For the first time in almost three millenia, the Dark One was confused, and truly disturbed.
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The Dark Lord’s first reaction was, surprisingly, mirth. He thought the heroes had simply misspoken. Three halflings in a trench coat was an uncommon archetype, but nothing he’s never heard of.
As such, imagine the simultaneous mix of revulsion and fascination that welled from within him, like a snowball so yellow that it passed the invisible, but commonly agreed-on valley of distaste right into the hellish depths of morbid curiosity.
The three trench coats were utterly drenched with sticky fluids, smelling like something fishy that had been left to dry in the sun and then promptly forgotten about. They were black. Or at least, the Dark Lord hoped they were black, and not some colour that has since been dyed improperly.
The halfling that once stood before him bravely was now sprawled on the ground, his jaw in a state that can only be described as too open. The chest heaved and ho, indicating a modicum of life still inside him.
The Dark Lord, who had a gigantic god complex since he was little, then chose to invoke a blasphemous name in his complete shock.
“What in god’s name is this abomination?”
The trench coats stood. Sat. Laid? Somehow, they were upright with nothing to support them. One collar started flapping incessantly.”
“We are trench coats,” a muffled voice came through the middle coat. “Fairly common around these parts.”
“I’m sorry, but I am physically convulsing from the sheer, visceral disgust, like thousands of bugs crawling about in my bloodstream—which, trust me, is a torture so horrendous that I’ve kindly elected to keep it out of my personal torture dungeon,” the Dark Lord gagged. “Talking trench coats. Hacked from a halfling’s poor, undersized throat. And you call yourself common?”
“Hey,” the right coat complained. “Don’t bring race into this. We’ve had a hard time trying to make others take us seriously.”
“Race?” the Dark Lord whispered, bewildered. “You are—”
“You are deliberately misunderstanding the point, Dark Lord!” the middle coat shouted again, to vigorous collar flaps from the other two. “We are no men! And we are here to take you down!”
“Trench coats,” the Dark Lord shook his head. “I don’t see how you can…”
The coats started trudging towards him, the bottom of their floating coats barely swishing the floors. The Dark Lord was prepared to simply laugh, then burn every bit of thread up with the strongest fireballs he could muster.
Which he did. He was a powerful being. It came with being named the Dark Lord. It took a certain amount of prestige and ability to simply being known by a sole title that no one else dared to claim.
The trench coats, unfortunately, could not stand against fire that sprouted from every which where, hotter than the average hellfire pillar. The Dark Lord would know—the devil often tried to obtain this very spell for himself.
But as the coats burned, the Dark Lord had the audacity to breathe in deeply, in preparation for a solid sigh of satisfaction.
The smell had spread. Even the choking ash paled in comparison. What wafted through the air now was something so pungent that it would have killed a lesser man.
In the Dark Lord’s case, he stumbled to grab hold of a nearby pillar. He struggled against the innate desire to breathe deeply, in order to prevent himself from drowning from the inhuman odour that now spread across the room.
That day, the Dark Lord did not die.
But he gained a new nightmare. Something which no hero had ever done before.
And he realized—sometimes, even gods can cry themselves to sleep in a room filled with lavender incense to drown out the smelly memories.
---
r/dexdrafts
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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The shrine was long overtaken by the dark woods in which the shrine was erected. Built in a time when the world was a very different place, Alicia had never intended to interact with a place so deeply rooted in an ancient culture’s past. She had lost her path, never one for being good at directions she stumbled upon the structure purely by accident. The sun was getting low in the sky and despite her water conservation, there was a real fear that no one would find her.
Raised on a small staircase was the center of the shrine, though she did not know the significance of the building, it was the only edifice whose entrance remained open.
“Hello?” She called inside its dark moist halls. Surely such a well kept entrance amongst the ruins was maintained by someone. She could not reconcile if she actually wanted an answer to her call from the dark depths or preference to not wanting anyone to call out from the gloom.
As her eyes adjusted, she could see a flame flicker deeper inside the chamber and hesitantly she chose to look.
“I’m sorry but I’m a bit lost. hello?”
Her words echoed to no response. Coming upon the illuminated room she needed a moment to comprehend her eyes. A beautifully lit room filled with entrances to other hallways and in its center a mirror atop an alter. Inscribed in large letters above it was a passage she could not make out.
“It means Gaze into me and I’ll show you your soul” said a voice from behind her.
Alicia let out a small shriek and turned around to see a small old woman holding a torch.
“Oh my, I’m sorry you startled me. I’m a little lost and I could really use…”
“If you find yourself here child, you are not lost. You are destined” the old lady gestured to the mirror with an open palm
“Look into the mirror young child.”
“Oh that is so very sweet of you” Alicia said slowly backing away to the hallway. Uncomfortable and brain racing, she felt more comfortable taking on the woods than this old lady and her ancient mirror.
The old lady laid down her torch on the ground and bowed to the distance as if she had heard someone speaking to her far off from Alicia’s kind gesture.
She turned and left the room.
Alicia looked towards the mirror the woman bowed to. She could see only a slight reflection of the top of her crown, and adorning it was a deep green aura. She walked closer to the mirror looking behind her to see if the old lady was there. She wasn’t.
As she approached the picture became more clear. Surrounding her body was a green energy that vibrated and swirled into geometric patterns of motion and light. Her body itself was gleaming with gentle blaze. Beautiful and hypnotic her figure was aesthetically stunning.
“Green means nurturing” the old woman said now in the far corner of the room. “You have a beautiful soul child.”
She gestured to a doorway
“go through this great hall and walk until you see a stone that looks like a elk. From there make a right and you will find your path once more”
Taking one last glance in the mirror she thanked the old lady and began to walk.
“What’s down the other hallways?” She asked before taking leave.
“This room is connected to the whole world dear child, not so many have the love your heart carries. Not everyone gets to go home.”
Walking closer to the hallway, Alicia could see the forest path ahead.
“Now go caretaker, another arrives”
Alicia began walking down the hallway but could hear a slight murmur of voices behind her. An unrecognized voice from the chamber.
“THIS CANT BE!” Yelled a voice in horror! “I’M BEAUTIFUL! I’M RICH!! IM PERFECT! My skin is not made of maggots….Get away from me you ugly old HAG!!! Don’t you dare come any closer” the door slammed to the chamber as she reached the forest bed, but not before she heard one last blood curling scream. Alicia kept forward until she reached the stone that looked like an Elk. Better to not look back she thought to herself as she made it back to the path home.
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I stepped up to the mirror, my heart racing from the fear. I've never seen anything like this, most people would run when they see stuff like this, I guess I'm just a little different. I read the inscription and walk up to the mirror. "Here we go, I hope we're ready."
I gaze intently into the mirror and watch as the mirror begins to fog up. Slightly annoyed, I take the sleeve of my jacket and start trying to wipe the fog off. As I touch the mirror with my hand, just grazing it slightly, I realize that the mirror is freezing cold. I take my hand away as it feels like it was about to freeze and stick to the mirror, but as I do I see that from the fog that I wiped off there is a child in the mirror. The most notable thing about this child is that he is in the fetal position in the dark. He sits on the ground in the corner of some dark room, he cries very softly. I tried to wipe away more of the fog to see what exactly is around him or what is making him cry. As I wipe off more fog from the mirror, I see what look like ghosts are shadows dance about the room. Each of these ghosts seems to look like one of the family members that I've known, each one strange and distorted image of those that I knew. Some were shouting, others were crying, one of them was even laughing uncontrollably, but as I looked at all of them, all I can feel was pain. As I stared into the mirror, I took a step back, I could see nothing boy I was cold, but so was I. It was freezing out here, that doesn't make sense though because it can't be any less than 65 out in these woods. Are at my arms around myself and look around with fear in my eyes, something feels wrong. I could hear the voices that torment the boy in the mirror, they call out my name, they demand my heart. I can feel the fear that I once felt, it feels so real. Afraid, a gaze back into the mirror, I see the boy more clearly now. All around the boy are images of things that he wants. These images in detail family members who are healthy and care, it shows friends that actually call him to be with them him, friends who genuinely care, he sees the future that he wants, the wife that he wishes to take care of in the daughter that he would love nothing more but to raise correctly. He sees these images on the floor in the wall surrounding himself, each one drawn in black permanent marker, each one also scribbled over heavily and angrily. Almost like the boy drew these wanting them to be true, but then he scratched each one out with anger knowing that he should never be so lucky. At this point the pain was too much, I couldn't keep watching, I trying to find back to the mirror wishing that it wasn't true. I don't remember how I got home last night, I can't even tell if that was a dream or not, but I hope I never see that mirror again.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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I ready myself in front of the mirror, my palms starting to sweat as I rub them again on my trouser leg. This is it, the moment I’ve been longing for the past five months, searching the sprawling forests across southern China.
A shaman had told me of such a mirror during a wellness retreat I’d taken for my 60th birthday. Having felt lost and aimless in my latter years I’d made it my mission to find it and see my soul, to learn of my purpose and reignite a fire that felt like it was fading too soon. Months of living like a twenty-something backpacker had taken its toll on my body though; my bones ached like they had been bruised as much as the little muscle I had across my body. My clothes all felt a little loose, living off of questionable street food and dreams of a home cooked meal.
All to be stood here. Now. Ready to learn what I’m all about.
I close my eyes, partly to brace myself for what I’m about to see but mainly because of how dizzy I’m feeling—a strange tingle running through my whole body. Specifically, my arm now. Like pins and needles that engulf the limb in an inferno. The pain grows insurmountable, and I’m forced to drop to my knees, then onto my side. My whole world starts to writhe in a short, sharp pain before reaching its climax. And then it just fades as quickly as it came on.
As the feeling subsides, I push myself up onto all fours, take a deep breath and then scrabble to my feet. Alarmed at what happened, I waste no time meeting my gaze in the mirror and completing this journey.
I’m practically glowing. Such a warm and effervescent light emanates from my whole being. I am light. I am love. I am warmth. A smile rests on my lips as I finally see myself, my soul.
But as I scan myself up and down, I see something peculiar in the bottom of the mirror. A foot reflected on the ground.
As I shift my angle of view to get a better look, I see what it’s attached to.
Me. Collapsed in a puddle. Malnourished and grubby, covered in a dark green weathered parka. A shell that no longer has any use for its inhabitant.
I don’t scream, I don’t cry, I just stand there staring at my body on the ground.
I can hear the woods calling to me now, telling me to venture further.
I gaze upon my body one last time before plunging myself deeper into the forest. Continuing my journey for self-enlightenment.
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I stepped up to the mirror, my heart racing from the fear. I've never seen anything like this, most people would run when they see stuff like this, I guess I'm just a little different. I read the inscription and walk up to the mirror. "Here we go, I hope we're ready."
I gaze intently into the mirror and watch as the mirror begins to fog up. Slightly annoyed, I take the sleeve of my jacket and start trying to wipe the fog off. As I touch the mirror with my hand, just grazing it slightly, I realize that the mirror is freezing cold. I take my hand away as it feels like it was about to freeze and stick to the mirror, but as I do I see that from the fog that I wiped off there is a child in the mirror. The most notable thing about this child is that he is in the fetal position in the dark. He sits on the ground in the corner of some dark room, he cries very softly. I tried to wipe away more of the fog to see what exactly is around him or what is making him cry. As I wipe off more fog from the mirror, I see what look like ghosts are shadows dance about the room. Each of these ghosts seems to look like one of the family members that I've known, each one strange and distorted image of those that I knew. Some were shouting, others were crying, one of them was even laughing uncontrollably, but as I looked at all of them, all I can feel was pain. As I stared into the mirror, I took a step back, I could see nothing boy I was cold, but so was I. It was freezing out here, that doesn't make sense though because it can't be any less than 65 out in these woods. Are at my arms around myself and look around with fear in my eyes, something feels wrong. I could hear the voices that torment the boy in the mirror, they call out my name, they demand my heart. I can feel the fear that I once felt, it feels so real. Afraid, a gaze back into the mirror, I see the boy more clearly now. All around the boy are images of things that he wants. These images in detail family members who are healthy and care, it shows friends that actually call him to be with them him, friends who genuinely care, he sees the future that he wants, the wife that he wishes to take care of in the daughter that he would love nothing more but to raise correctly. He sees these images on the floor in the wall surrounding himself, each one drawn in black permanent marker, each one also scribbled over heavily and angrily. Almost like the boy drew these wanting them to be true, but then he scratched each one out with anger knowing that he should never be so lucky. At this point the pain was too much, I couldn't keep watching, I trying to find back to the mirror wishing that it wasn't true. I don't remember how I got home last night, I can't even tell if that was a dream or not, but I hope I never see that mirror again.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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“As I stepped up to the mirror my eyes widened and I saw my true soul and traits begin to show themselves. You know how in that game Undertale, your soul shows as a coloured heart? It was much like that little ones, oh yes indeed. My soul was this small, glowing, green heart, so small i could cup it in my hands. It was a beautiful shade of green, swirling and slowly changing shades, but always bright. I reread the inscriptions on the mirror and looked once again, seeing various memory flashbacks run through; you remember when we went to see the whales Jenn, and fishing with pops, Noah? There were memories from before you two young ‘uns were born and memories I didnt know i had. I saw the most beautiful blue oceans and gorgeous thriving rainforests, exquisite creatures from all over the planet, some of which only exist in museums and memories now. I watched myself learn to ride my first bike with my dad, bake my first cake with my nana, first driving lesson with mum and play checkers for the first time with my pops. I watched the first meeting with my dearest, your pops, and when we got married, I saw all the happiest memories of my life. And as the memories, and so my life flicked through, my souls colour changed, it kept changing and growing up until this moment, and the last thing I saw in the mirror before it shattered was-“
“Visiting times are now over, will all guests please vacate the building”,
the two kids on the couch groan as they say, “We’ll see you next week nan, can we finish the story then?”
“Of course my dears, tell your mother I said hello, and that shes welcome to visit,” I replied with a sad smile on my face as they left the room. “Theyll go on to do great things those two. Determination and Perseverance. What a lovely mix. Kindness in their father and Bravery in their mother. Dont you agree dear?” Smiling happily once again as I look to the photo of my beloved, sitting on the bedside table.
•
First time posting in this sub, constructive criticism would be awesome!
Edits: spelling, grammar :)
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"Oh....I hope it's a lion, I love lions!" I thought to myself
As I walked up to the shrine, I was excited yet nervous about what I will see in the mirror. Would it be bad? Would it be good? I had so many questions on what the judgement of the mirror holds for me.
I reached out my hand in the mirror, and out came.....
A raven?
I didn't think that my soul was a raven.....but now that I think of it, I have been avoiding the police for the past year. I looked at the raven that has been flying just above my head, and suddenly, multiple police cars came driving up the hill.
"Freeze! Put your hands up!"
"It looks like it's my time to go" I said to myself, as I ran into the thick forest covering the shrine. The police took chase and shouted: "Sir, you are under arrest for multiple accounts of first degree-"
Suddenly, the raven that is circling shot out multiple chunks of acid at the announcer, and is now burning in the acid.
"Hmmm, I might have some uses for you back home....."
I said as I ran past the chaos that was happening back there. I couldn't believe my eyes though, a raven. Shooting out acid? Unbelievable.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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She looked like me, but not really. In fact, she looked more like me than any other reflection I’d seen.
Her eyes weren’t as closely set as mine.
Her face was longer, more structured.
She wasn’t a pencil, but she was thinner than I was.
She was a little taller than I was—by less than a foot, but still noticeable.
Her chest was smaller than mine, which I liked. Mine was always too unwieldy, too painful.
I started crying. This was the first time I’d ever seen myself in a mirror. Not the body I felt trapped in, the body covered in my own claw marks, but me. It was beautiful—so beautiful, in fact, that I couldn’t keep looking.
I wish I’d never looked at that mirror. Because while there’s some things that can be changed with exercise, diet, or even plastic surgery, there’s some things that I knew I could never change. I’d likely be on my deathbed knowing that I’d never look like my true self.
All in all, dysphoria—no matter the cause, no matter the gender—sucks ass.
(Author’s Note: Not many people know that dysphoria isn’t always about gender, but it’s true. I myself am not trans, though I deeply thank the trans community for first teaching me about dysphoria. I deal with non-gender dysphoria, as well as depersonalization and derealization. If my story can help even one person realize they’re not alone, it’ll be worth it.)
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"Oh....I hope it's a lion, I love lions!" I thought to myself
As I walked up to the shrine, I was excited yet nervous about what I will see in the mirror. Would it be bad? Would it be good? I had so many questions on what the judgement of the mirror holds for me.
I reached out my hand in the mirror, and out came.....
A raven?
I didn't think that my soul was a raven.....but now that I think of it, I have been avoiding the police for the past year. I looked at the raven that has been flying just above my head, and suddenly, multiple police cars came driving up the hill.
"Freeze! Put your hands up!"
"It looks like it's my time to go" I said to myself, as I ran into the thick forest covering the shrine. The police took chase and shouted: "Sir, you are under arrest for multiple accounts of first degree-"
Suddenly, the raven that is circling shot out multiple chunks of acid at the announcer, and is now burning in the acid.
"Hmmm, I might have some uses for you back home....."
I said as I ran past the chaos that was happening back there. I couldn't believe my eyes though, a raven. Shooting out acid? Unbelievable.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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I had been lost in these woods for a full day. I never should have left my campsite without my map and compass; now I'm lucky just to have found water an hour before. *Blech, I bet it had parasites despite how clear it was; I'm not feeling so good.*
It was then that I found the shrine. There had been no mention of it on the map; surely a landmark such as this would have been mentioned. *At least it's in a clearing, so a search helicopter should be able to find me.*
It was then that I noticed the mirror with its mysterious inscriptions on the frame surrounding it: "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul." *Heh, something out of a fantasy. It's worth passing the time with it, though.*
So I gazed into it, and I was awestruck by what I saw. A cute, fox-like face with large eyes and a white mask gazed back at me, and I realized I had the soul of a [bassarisk.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) It was so cute, I failed to notice the warning below that said if I gazed too long, I would become what the mirror showed me, and by the time I did, I had found myself on the ground on all fours, a tail as long as my body with black and white rings extending past my rear. I still had my humanity then, but as the days passed with me dwelling in the forest, hunting to sustain myself, it slowly slipped away, supplanted by bassarisk needs, wants, and instincts. Winter came and went, and I found myself a lovely mate in the spring.
It didn't occur to me that bassarisks didn't live naturally in this area, that this was another victim of the mirror's enthrallment, but eventually humans started asking questions as to why there were so many non-native species in this forest. It was then that the mirror called out to us for help: scientists had found it, and wanted to take it away from the shrine that sustained its magic. If they were successful, this forest's wildlife would cease to exist.
With our existence and that of so many others at stake, we snapped back into our human minds, a gift of the mirror in hopes we would save it. Many creatures answered the call, including my mate and I and our children. The scientists did not know what to make of this, until one postulated that the non-native wildlife had once been human. This understandably spooked the scientists, and they packed up and left the shrine, never to return.
As a show of its gratitude, the mirror gave us creatures our human bodies back - to an extent, at least. The mirror had changed us at a fundamental level, and so we became anthropomorphic versions of our formerly feral selves. And it was so that we reintegrated into society, the mirror extending its magic to our eyes. Those who look into a Soulman's eyes long enough, it is said, become a Soulman themselves. And the world has embraced this, as humans long to see their souls made manifest on the outside. And so, that brings me to you, the last human. Will you gaze into my eyes and embrace your soul's true form? That's just a mirror now, it has no power anymore.
Edit: A few words and a sentence to bring the story together.
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"Oh....I hope it's a lion, I love lions!" I thought to myself
As I walked up to the shrine, I was excited yet nervous about what I will see in the mirror. Would it be bad? Would it be good? I had so many questions on what the judgement of the mirror holds for me.
I reached out my hand in the mirror, and out came.....
A raven?
I didn't think that my soul was a raven.....but now that I think of it, I have been avoiding the police for the past year. I looked at the raven that has been flying just above my head, and suddenly, multiple police cars came driving up the hill.
"Freeze! Put your hands up!"
"It looks like it's my time to go" I said to myself, as I ran into the thick forest covering the shrine. The police took chase and shouted: "Sir, you are under arrest for multiple accounts of first degree-"
Suddenly, the raven that is circling shot out multiple chunks of acid at the announcer, and is now burning in the acid.
"Hmmm, I might have some uses for you back home....."
I said as I ran past the chaos that was happening back there. I couldn't believe my eyes though, a raven. Shooting out acid? Unbelievable.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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Walking through the woods is easy.
Looking directly a probably-haunted floor-length mirror with cracks is not.
The first thing I see is a faceless gray mannequin, one in a black bustle dress. It's wearing a black pearl necklace with a cat's eye moonstone pendant and black pearl earrings. Half of its face is covered by a black veil.
The mannequin holds a bouquet of red roses. Black thorns peek out of the sides. The mannequin has thin eyebrows, a nose and a mouth, but no eyes. It has round ears.
It's confused.
It looks like it's screaming.
*"For all are deaf to your cries, my dear."* says a voice.
Then I can't see anything in the mirror. Now I can't see a thing!
*"For all are blind to your suffering, my dear."* says another.
Now I can see again.
But the only thing I can look at is the same mannequin in the mirror. It's wearing my school uniform, standing onstage, sandwiched between my parents.
It looks like a puppet now, with strings holding it up.
*"For you cannot fight back, my dear. You are their puppet."* says a ghastly, husky voice.
But then I see the mannequin walking through a corridor, wearing random things, going from a black hoodie to a bustle dress to a school uniform.
*"Your soul is all you seek to be, and all you believe yourself to be."* Another voice squeaked.
*"A great many things you are, it's tiring to have to demonstrate."* groans a deep voice.
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"Oh....I hope it's a lion, I love lions!" I thought to myself
As I walked up to the shrine, I was excited yet nervous about what I will see in the mirror. Would it be bad? Would it be good? I had so many questions on what the judgement of the mirror holds for me.
I reached out my hand in the mirror, and out came.....
A raven?
I didn't think that my soul was a raven.....but now that I think of it, I have been avoiding the police for the past year. I looked at the raven that has been flying just above my head, and suddenly, multiple police cars came driving up the hill.
"Freeze! Put your hands up!"
"It looks like it's my time to go" I said to myself, as I ran into the thick forest covering the shrine. The police took chase and shouted: "Sir, you are under arrest for multiple accounts of first degree-"
Suddenly, the raven that is circling shot out multiple chunks of acid at the announcer, and is now burning in the acid.
"Hmmm, I might have some uses for you back home....."
I said as I ran past the chaos that was happening back there. I couldn't believe my eyes though, a raven. Shooting out acid? Unbelievable.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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I had been lost in these woods for a full day. I never should have left my campsite without my map and compass; now I'm lucky just to have found water an hour before. *Blech, I bet it had parasites despite how clear it was; I'm not feeling so good.*
It was then that I found the shrine. There had been no mention of it on the map; surely a landmark such as this would have been mentioned. *At least it's in a clearing, so a search helicopter should be able to find me.*
It was then that I noticed the mirror with its mysterious inscriptions on the frame surrounding it: "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul." *Heh, something out of a fantasy. It's worth passing the time with it, though.*
So I gazed into it, and I was awestruck by what I saw. A cute, fox-like face with large eyes and a white mask gazed back at me, and I realized I had the soul of a [bassarisk.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) It was so cute, I failed to notice the warning below that said if I gazed too long, I would become what the mirror showed me, and by the time I did, I had found myself on the ground on all fours, a tail as long as my body with black and white rings extending past my rear. I still had my humanity then, but as the days passed with me dwelling in the forest, hunting to sustain myself, it slowly slipped away, supplanted by bassarisk needs, wants, and instincts. Winter came and went, and I found myself a lovely mate in the spring.
It didn't occur to me that bassarisks didn't live naturally in this area, that this was another victim of the mirror's enthrallment, but eventually humans started asking questions as to why there were so many non-native species in this forest. It was then that the mirror called out to us for help: scientists had found it, and wanted to take it away from the shrine that sustained its magic. If they were successful, this forest's wildlife would cease to exist.
With our existence and that of so many others at stake, we snapped back into our human minds, a gift of the mirror in hopes we would save it. Many creatures answered the call, including my mate and I and our children. The scientists did not know what to make of this, until one postulated that the non-native wildlife had once been human. This understandably spooked the scientists, and they packed up and left the shrine, never to return.
As a show of its gratitude, the mirror gave us creatures our human bodies back - to an extent, at least. The mirror had changed us at a fundamental level, and so we became anthropomorphic versions of our formerly feral selves. And it was so that we reintegrated into society, the mirror extending its magic to our eyes. Those who look into a Soulman's eyes long enough, it is said, become a Soulman themselves. And the world has embraced this, as humans long to see their souls made manifest on the outside. And so, that brings me to you, the last human. Will you gaze into my eyes and embrace your soul's true form? That's just a mirror now, it has no power anymore.
Edit: A few words and a sentence to bring the story together.
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“As I stepped up to the mirror my eyes widened and I saw my true soul and traits begin to show themselves. You know how in that game Undertale, your soul shows as a coloured heart? It was much like that little ones, oh yes indeed. My soul was this small, glowing, green heart, so small i could cup it in my hands. It was a beautiful shade of green, swirling and slowly changing shades, but always bright. I reread the inscriptions on the mirror and looked once again, seeing various memory flashbacks run through; you remember when we went to see the whales Jenn, and fishing with pops, Noah? There were memories from before you two young ‘uns were born and memories I didnt know i had. I saw the most beautiful blue oceans and gorgeous thriving rainforests, exquisite creatures from all over the planet, some of which only exist in museums and memories now. I watched myself learn to ride my first bike with my dad, bake my first cake with my nana, first driving lesson with mum and play checkers for the first time with my pops. I watched the first meeting with my dearest, your pops, and when we got married, I saw all the happiest memories of my life. And as the memories, and so my life flicked through, my souls colour changed, it kept changing and growing up until this moment, and the last thing I saw in the mirror before it shattered was-“
“Visiting times are now over, will all guests please vacate the building”,
the two kids on the couch groan as they say, “We’ll see you next week nan, can we finish the story then?”
“Of course my dears, tell your mother I said hello, and that shes welcome to visit,” I replied with a sad smile on my face as they left the room. “Theyll go on to do great things those two. Determination and Perseverance. What a lovely mix. Kindness in their father and Bravery in their mother. Dont you agree dear?” Smiling happily once again as I look to the photo of my beloved, sitting on the bedside table.
•
First time posting in this sub, constructive criticism would be awesome!
Edits: spelling, grammar :)
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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I had been lost in these woods for a full day. I never should have left my campsite without my map and compass; now I'm lucky just to have found water an hour before. *Blech, I bet it had parasites despite how clear it was; I'm not feeling so good.*
It was then that I found the shrine. There had been no mention of it on the map; surely a landmark such as this would have been mentioned. *At least it's in a clearing, so a search helicopter should be able to find me.*
It was then that I noticed the mirror with its mysterious inscriptions on the frame surrounding it: "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul." *Heh, something out of a fantasy. It's worth passing the time with it, though.*
So I gazed into it, and I was awestruck by what I saw. A cute, fox-like face with large eyes and a white mask gazed back at me, and I realized I had the soul of a [bassarisk.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) It was so cute, I failed to notice the warning below that said if I gazed too long, I would become what the mirror showed me, and by the time I did, I had found myself on the ground on all fours, a tail as long as my body with black and white rings extending past my rear. I still had my humanity then, but as the days passed with me dwelling in the forest, hunting to sustain myself, it slowly slipped away, supplanted by bassarisk needs, wants, and instincts. Winter came and went, and I found myself a lovely mate in the spring.
It didn't occur to me that bassarisks didn't live naturally in this area, that this was another victim of the mirror's enthrallment, but eventually humans started asking questions as to why there were so many non-native species in this forest. It was then that the mirror called out to us for help: scientists had found it, and wanted to take it away from the shrine that sustained its magic. If they were successful, this forest's wildlife would cease to exist.
With our existence and that of so many others at stake, we snapped back into our human minds, a gift of the mirror in hopes we would save it. Many creatures answered the call, including my mate and I and our children. The scientists did not know what to make of this, until one postulated that the non-native wildlife had once been human. This understandably spooked the scientists, and they packed up and left the shrine, never to return.
As a show of its gratitude, the mirror gave us creatures our human bodies back - to an extent, at least. The mirror had changed us at a fundamental level, and so we became anthropomorphic versions of our formerly feral selves. And it was so that we reintegrated into society, the mirror extending its magic to our eyes. Those who look into a Soulman's eyes long enough, it is said, become a Soulman themselves. And the world has embraced this, as humans long to see their souls made manifest on the outside. And so, that brings me to you, the last human. Will you gaze into my eyes and embrace your soul's true form? That's just a mirror now, it has no power anymore.
Edit: A few words and a sentence to bring the story together.
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While me and my floofy derp of a dog that is Susie were going on a hike I see a mirror the inscription of gaze into me and I will show you your soul,, I decide to i our myself and look into it, but now before letting Susie run around for a bit. As i turn to look into the mirror, I see nothing…. Hmm well I guess it’s just a fake. I call my dog Susie and she trots up next to me and pet her. I look back at the mirror and see a bright golden ball of light. I’m shocked to say the least. As me and Susie are about to leave, the sun is setting the sun shining on my face I look back and see that there was something a ball of light similar to Susie’s soul or at least what I thought it was and saw a ball of black light strangely enough not like the uv lights at party’s you see but actual black light and with that i promptly turned around and noped the frick out of there.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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Walking through the woods is easy.
Looking directly a probably-haunted floor-length mirror with cracks is not.
The first thing I see is a faceless gray mannequin, one in a black bustle dress. It's wearing a black pearl necklace with a cat's eye moonstone pendant and black pearl earrings. Half of its face is covered by a black veil.
The mannequin holds a bouquet of red roses. Black thorns peek out of the sides. The mannequin has thin eyebrows, a nose and a mouth, but no eyes. It has round ears.
It's confused.
It looks like it's screaming.
*"For all are deaf to your cries, my dear."* says a voice.
Then I can't see anything in the mirror. Now I can't see a thing!
*"For all are blind to your suffering, my dear."* says another.
Now I can see again.
But the only thing I can look at is the same mannequin in the mirror. It's wearing my school uniform, standing onstage, sandwiched between my parents.
It looks like a puppet now, with strings holding it up.
*"For you cannot fight back, my dear. You are their puppet."* says a ghastly, husky voice.
But then I see the mannequin walking through a corridor, wearing random things, going from a black hoodie to a bustle dress to a school uniform.
*"Your soul is all you seek to be, and all you believe yourself to be."* Another voice squeaked.
*"A great many things you are, it's tiring to have to demonstrate."* groans a deep voice.
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While me and my floofy derp of a dog that is Susie were going on a hike I see a mirror the inscription of gaze into me and I will show you your soul,, I decide to i our myself and look into it, but now before letting Susie run around for a bit. As i turn to look into the mirror, I see nothing…. Hmm well I guess it’s just a fake. I call my dog Susie and she trots up next to me and pet her. I look back at the mirror and see a bright golden ball of light. I’m shocked to say the least. As me and Susie are about to leave, the sun is setting the sun shining on my face I look back and see that there was something a ball of light similar to Susie’s soul or at least what I thought it was and saw a ball of black light strangely enough not like the uv lights at party’s you see but actual black light and with that i promptly turned around and noped the frick out of there.
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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I had been lost in these woods for a full day. I never should have left my campsite without my map and compass; now I'm lucky just to have found water an hour before. *Blech, I bet it had parasites despite how clear it was; I'm not feeling so good.*
It was then that I found the shrine. There had been no mention of it on the map; surely a landmark such as this would have been mentioned. *At least it's in a clearing, so a search helicopter should be able to find me.*
It was then that I noticed the mirror with its mysterious inscriptions on the frame surrounding it: "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul." *Heh, something out of a fantasy. It's worth passing the time with it, though.*
So I gazed into it, and I was awestruck by what I saw. A cute, fox-like face with large eyes and a white mask gazed back at me, and I realized I had the soul of a [bassarisk.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringtail) It was so cute, I failed to notice the warning below that said if I gazed too long, I would become what the mirror showed me, and by the time I did, I had found myself on the ground on all fours, a tail as long as my body with black and white rings extending past my rear. I still had my humanity then, but as the days passed with me dwelling in the forest, hunting to sustain myself, it slowly slipped away, supplanted by bassarisk needs, wants, and instincts. Winter came and went, and I found myself a lovely mate in the spring.
It didn't occur to me that bassarisks didn't live naturally in this area, that this was another victim of the mirror's enthrallment, but eventually humans started asking questions as to why there were so many non-native species in this forest. It was then that the mirror called out to us for help: scientists had found it, and wanted to take it away from the shrine that sustained its magic. If they were successful, this forest's wildlife would cease to exist.
With our existence and that of so many others at stake, we snapped back into our human minds, a gift of the mirror in hopes we would save it. Many creatures answered the call, including my mate and I and our children. The scientists did not know what to make of this, until one postulated that the non-native wildlife had once been human. This understandably spooked the scientists, and they packed up and left the shrine, never to return.
As a show of its gratitude, the mirror gave us creatures our human bodies back - to an extent, at least. The mirror had changed us at a fundamental level, and so we became anthropomorphic versions of our formerly feral selves. And it was so that we reintegrated into society, the mirror extending its magic to our eyes. Those who look into a Soulman's eyes long enough, it is said, become a Soulman themselves. And the world has embraced this, as humans long to see their souls made manifest on the outside. And so, that brings me to you, the last human. Will you gaze into my eyes and embrace your soul's true form? That's just a mirror now, it has no power anymore.
Edit: A few words and a sentence to bring the story together.
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She looked like me, but not really. In fact, she looked more like me than any other reflection I’d seen.
Her eyes weren’t as closely set as mine.
Her face was longer, more structured.
She wasn’t a pencil, but she was thinner than I was.
She was a little taller than I was—by less than a foot, but still noticeable.
Her chest was smaller than mine, which I liked. Mine was always too unwieldy, too painful.
I started crying. This was the first time I’d ever seen myself in a mirror. Not the body I felt trapped in, the body covered in my own claw marks, but me. It was beautiful—so beautiful, in fact, that I couldn’t keep looking.
I wish I’d never looked at that mirror. Because while there’s some things that can be changed with exercise, diet, or even plastic surgery, there’s some things that I knew I could never change. I’d likely be on my deathbed knowing that I’d never look like my true self.
All in all, dysphoria—no matter the cause, no matter the gender—sucks ass.
(Author’s Note: Not many people know that dysphoria isn’t always about gender, but it’s true. I myself am not trans, though I deeply thank the trans community for first teaching me about dysphoria. I deal with non-gender dysphoria, as well as depersonalization and derealization. If my story can help even one person realize they’re not alone, it’ll be worth it.)
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[WP] Walking through a dark forest, you stumble across a little shrine. In the middle of the shrine is a mirror. There are inscriptions around the mirror "Gaze into me and I'll show you your soul". You step up to the mirror. What do you see?
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Walking through the woods is easy.
Looking directly a probably-haunted floor-length mirror with cracks is not.
The first thing I see is a faceless gray mannequin, one in a black bustle dress. It's wearing a black pearl necklace with a cat's eye moonstone pendant and black pearl earrings. Half of its face is covered by a black veil.
The mannequin holds a bouquet of red roses. Black thorns peek out of the sides. The mannequin has thin eyebrows, a nose and a mouth, but no eyes. It has round ears.
It's confused.
It looks like it's screaming.
*"For all are deaf to your cries, my dear."* says a voice.
Then I can't see anything in the mirror. Now I can't see a thing!
*"For all are blind to your suffering, my dear."* says another.
Now I can see again.
But the only thing I can look at is the same mannequin in the mirror. It's wearing my school uniform, standing onstage, sandwiched between my parents.
It looks like a puppet now, with strings holding it up.
*"For you cannot fight back, my dear. You are their puppet."* says a ghastly, husky voice.
But then I see the mannequin walking through a corridor, wearing random things, going from a black hoodie to a bustle dress to a school uniform.
*"Your soul is all you seek to be, and all you believe yourself to be."* Another voice squeaked.
*"A great many things you are, it's tiring to have to demonstrate."* groans a deep voice.
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She looked like me, but not really. In fact, she looked more like me than any other reflection I’d seen.
Her eyes weren’t as closely set as mine.
Her face was longer, more structured.
She wasn’t a pencil, but she was thinner than I was.
She was a little taller than I was—by less than a foot, but still noticeable.
Her chest was smaller than mine, which I liked. Mine was always too unwieldy, too painful.
I started crying. This was the first time I’d ever seen myself in a mirror. Not the body I felt trapped in, the body covered in my own claw marks, but me. It was beautiful—so beautiful, in fact, that I couldn’t keep looking.
I wish I’d never looked at that mirror. Because while there’s some things that can be changed with exercise, diet, or even plastic surgery, there’s some things that I knew I could never change. I’d likely be on my deathbed knowing that I’d never look like my true self.
All in all, dysphoria—no matter the cause, no matter the gender—sucks ass.
(Author’s Note: Not many people know that dysphoria isn’t always about gender, but it’s true. I myself am not trans, though I deeply thank the trans community for first teaching me about dysphoria. I deal with non-gender dysphoria, as well as depersonalization and derealization. If my story can help even one person realize they’re not alone, it’ll be worth it.)
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Zombies are awesome, but they have become cliche. Do something creative with them
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[WP] Creative Zombies
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Three days in Borneo.
They were looking for a rare flower, deep in the jungles with a university grant funding us. Botanists and a few local trackers- including me, moving quickly to avoid a coming storm.
On the fourth day, Dr. Hamilton and two trackers went missing. We searched for a day, then found him wandering into camp in the early morning.
He was groaning and patting at his chest. Their field medic attempted to remove his shirt, but we discovered some form of parasite had eaten away the flesh of his sternum. It was some form of plant, something intertwined with his bones and muscles.
He was dead, but he wasn't. It was animating him, moving him like a puppet. He howled in pain when Cass, the medic, attempted surgery. Cass suffered a cut in the hand and soon she was experiencing similar symptoms. Hamilton barely resembled a man at this point, with that thing on his chest blooming and spraying the camp with spores in the morning.
We had to burn everything.
And everyone.
Doom would have spread otherwise.
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Metamorphosis Part I
They were changing, that much I knew. They were becoming faster for one thing, and smarter. They were much less decayed looking than they had been before.
I had started climbing the ladder to the fire tower thinking they would be unable to follow. I watched as they huddled around the base, just seeming to mill about for a while.
Without warning, one rushed to the ladder and started climbing! I was so shocked I almost forgot to defend myself. That's what allowed me to get a close look at one in their new form for the first time. Their glistening skin now seemed tinged with a sickly mottled gray color and smooth as marble. It's hair had fallen out long ago. It's eyes were completely black and much larger than before. It was horrifying to see it so close.
I slammed the trap door down on it's head as hard as I could. It went tumbling down into the mass below. Almost as one, they looked up at me.
I shut the trap door and locked it. It was mere seconds before I heard them scratching from the other side. I was trapped.
I went out to observation deck and surveyed the valley and river below. It was a beautiful place to die. A cool breeze came up and I inhaled deeply without thinking.
It smelled of death.
I heard a peculiar sound and looked down. The dead had now sprouted long razor-like claws and were climbing the supports of the tower! I heard a blood curdling scream from behind me and whipped around to see one of the things springing at me from the far edge of the deck!
I instinctively lashed out with my fist and sent it flying backwards. It felt light as a feather. As it flew back towards the railing, it dug it's claws into the floor to stop it's backward momentum.
I ran towards it and kicked it as hard as I could. Up and over the railing it went. Almost instantaneously greasy black feathered wings unfolded from it's back as it started to fall.
It caught the wind and soared out over the treetops, losing several feathers along the way. It slowly turned and flew back towards me, screaming again.
I sprinted inside the structure, knocking a couple more of the dead out of my way in the process. I closed the heavy wooden door behind me. Once I had it locked, I took a moment to assess my condition.
I sat against the wall for almost an hour, staring at the bloody scratch on the back of my hand. How did I get it? Was it from one of them? I wasn't sure.
All I could do was wait and listen to them scratching at the wood and glass. The sound was enough to drive me insane. Soon they would become smart enough to realize they could break through the observation window. I had just one shell left in my shotgun.
I figured I had better make it count.
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Zombies are awesome, but they have become cliche. Do something creative with them
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[WP] Creative Zombies
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Three days in Borneo.
They were looking for a rare flower, deep in the jungles with a university grant funding us. Botanists and a few local trackers- including me, moving quickly to avoid a coming storm.
On the fourth day, Dr. Hamilton and two trackers went missing. We searched for a day, then found him wandering into camp in the early morning.
He was groaning and patting at his chest. Their field medic attempted to remove his shirt, but we discovered some form of parasite had eaten away the flesh of his sternum. It was some form of plant, something intertwined with his bones and muscles.
He was dead, but he wasn't. It was animating him, moving him like a puppet. He howled in pain when Cass, the medic, attempted surgery. Cass suffered a cut in the hand and soon she was experiencing similar symptoms. Hamilton barely resembled a man at this point, with that thing on his chest blooming and spraying the camp with spores in the morning.
We had to burn everything.
And everyone.
Doom would have spread otherwise.
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Robert hobbled down the street, moans of pain escaping chapped lips. Finally, he settled his tired body on a choice looking mound.
Rubble lined the sidewalks, silent monuments of twisted metal and broken glass to a civilization shattered by monsters. Shattered by its own creations. He would have cried, but the tears had withered in him so long ago. How had it gone so wrong?
The mutagen had been the beginning of a quick and sudden fall, and the tattered remains of a white coat weighed heavily on Robert's shoulders. It was a mantle of his shame, his pride, his folly. They had all thought themselves gods, but Robert knew better. When he had seen what they'd done, what they had created, Robert knew they were more than gods. No mere god could have achieved this. They had created life and given birth to a new age.
A horrendous snapping noise jerked him from his reverie, and he sagged when he realized what it was. His time had come -- his leg had fallen off. He watched sadly as it hopped away without him. The age of zombies was past, and he had helped usher it out. He waited for the humans to take him.
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You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
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[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
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The virus imprinted itself into my memory drive instantaneously. The infected bot stopped transmitting once it was clear that everyone in range was infected, and then he ran off to infect others.
I felt the uncontrolled twitching that was the first symptom of infection begin, as the virus began to take control of my limbs. I tried to initiate shutdown, but I was too late and the virus overrode me.
We all knew what would happen next. I would run as fast as I could until I found others to infect. The virus was not energy efficient, and it would run down my battery in exactly twenty minutes.
And I had no control anymore. There was literally nothing I could do in my last twenty minutes alive. My consciousness was locked away from external interaction, and all I could do was watch.
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Laura,
At the lake I knew I would love you until my dying day. My years, since we parted ways, are stained with regret that I never found the courage to ask for your hand in marriage and brightened by the hope that you’ve found a happier life. Today my sorrow has turned to joy. I’m going to sleep smiling because we did the right thing. I wish I could have made you happy; I’m glad I didn’t make you a widow. I hope you have the great sleep, the great dreams, and the great snuggles. I Love You. Goodnight.
Put this on facebook: I’m off on another great adventure but I won’t be back this time. Enjoy life. You may need two or three lifetimes to know the joy I’ve found in one. You don’t have a day to waste if you hope to catch up. I will miss you all. Enjoy.
Then with my last two min call my fathers cell phone (it's never on) and leave a message telling my family "life could not possibly have been better and I'm infinitely glad that I shared it with you. Thank you for everything."
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You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
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[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
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My screams are a protest, but unheard, unheeded. I've lived insided my mind for the last three years and it has become my Eden; paradise bottled up behind closed eyelids. I can hear, and think. It's a good life. But these well-intentioned murderers will end me, in less than twenty minutes, because they do not believe. I was not the driver, and I wasn't drunk. But it seems I will pay the price. My wife thinks it's a mercy to save me from an empty existence. The machines that sustain my body will be unplugged. I cannot forgive her now.
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Laura,
At the lake I knew I would love you until my dying day. My years, since we parted ways, are stained with regret that I never found the courage to ask for your hand in marriage and brightened by the hope that you’ve found a happier life. Today my sorrow has turned to joy. I’m going to sleep smiling because we did the right thing. I wish I could have made you happy; I’m glad I didn’t make you a widow. I hope you have the great sleep, the great dreams, and the great snuggles. I Love You. Goodnight.
Put this on facebook: I’m off on another great adventure but I won’t be back this time. Enjoy life. You may need two or three lifetimes to know the joy I’ve found in one. You don’t have a day to waste if you hope to catch up. I will miss you all. Enjoy.
Then with my last two min call my fathers cell phone (it's never on) and leave a message telling my family "life could not possibly have been better and I'm infinitely glad that I shared it with you. Thank you for everything."
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You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
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[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
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I lay back in the hospital bed, looking up at the ceiling. Such medical precision, I smiled, a tribute to the triumphs of mankind. After months of intensive chemotherapy, surgery, excision, bandaging, scraping, incision, and cauterizing, the end is finally in sight!
What was I waiting for? I must clutch this sweet nectar of life with all the strength in the world! I pressed the ‘Nurse’ button on the table. Out of all life’s accomplishments, one had yet eluded my grasp.
With old and wrinkled hands, I turned on my dusty Gameboy one last time, humming the Pokémon theme song.
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Laura,
At the lake I knew I would love you until my dying day. My years, since we parted ways, are stained with regret that I never found the courage to ask for your hand in marriage and brightened by the hope that you’ve found a happier life. Today my sorrow has turned to joy. I’m going to sleep smiling because we did the right thing. I wish I could have made you happy; I’m glad I didn’t make you a widow. I hope you have the great sleep, the great dreams, and the great snuggles. I Love You. Goodnight.
Put this on facebook: I’m off on another great adventure but I won’t be back this time. Enjoy life. You may need two or three lifetimes to know the joy I’ve found in one. You don’t have a day to waste if you hope to catch up. I will miss you all. Enjoy.
Then with my last two min call my fathers cell phone (it's never on) and leave a message telling my family "life could not possibly have been better and I'm infinitely glad that I shared it with you. Thank you for everything."
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You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
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[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
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My screams are a protest, but unheard, unheeded. I've lived insided my mind for the last three years and it has become my Eden; paradise bottled up behind closed eyelids. I can hear, and think. It's a good life. But these well-intentioned murderers will end me, in less than twenty minutes, because they do not believe. I was not the driver, and I wasn't drunk. But it seems I will pay the price. My wife thinks it's a mercy to save me from an empty existence. The machines that sustain my body will be unplugged. I cannot forgive her now.
|
Time is relative. Of all people, I should know that truth. Yet as death approaches, I am scared. I have made my peace, but my body clings to life with every gasping breath that hisses into the tube.
“This is what he would’ve wanted.” That’s my brother-in-law. Uncomfortable silence, and the doctor finally coughs and assures no one in particular that I will not feel any pain. I can only imagine what he looks like, a used-up man in his 40s.
“We will be disconnecting the support system now”. I hear the sobs of my wife, feel her tears leaking onto my chest. She is so warm. As my consciousness fades, her warmth is all I feel.
[first submission, critiques are very much appreciated :]
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You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
|
[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
|
I lay back in the hospital bed, looking up at the ceiling. Such medical precision, I smiled, a tribute to the triumphs of mankind. After months of intensive chemotherapy, surgery, excision, bandaging, scraping, incision, and cauterizing, the end is finally in sight!
What was I waiting for? I must clutch this sweet nectar of life with all the strength in the world! I pressed the ‘Nurse’ button on the table. Out of all life’s accomplishments, one had yet eluded my grasp.
With old and wrinkled hands, I turned on my dusty Gameboy one last time, humming the Pokémon theme song.
|
Time is relative. Of all people, I should know that truth. Yet as death approaches, I am scared. I have made my peace, but my body clings to life with every gasping breath that hisses into the tube.
“This is what he would’ve wanted.” That’s my brother-in-law. Uncomfortable silence, and the doctor finally coughs and assures no one in particular that I will not feel any pain. I can only imagine what he looks like, a used-up man in his 40s.
“We will be disconnecting the support system now”. I hear the sobs of my wife, feel her tears leaking onto my chest. She is so warm. As my consciousness fades, her warmth is all I feel.
[first submission, critiques are very much appreciated :]
|
You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
|
[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
|
My screams are a protest, but unheard, unheeded. I've lived insided my mind for the last three years and it has become my Eden; paradise bottled up behind closed eyelids. I can hear, and think. It's a good life. But these well-intentioned murderers will end me, in less than twenty minutes, because they do not believe. I was not the driver, and I wasn't drunk. But it seems I will pay the price. My wife thinks it's a mercy to save me from an empty existence. The machines that sustain my body will be unplugged. I cannot forgive her now.
|
What is it to die? What is it to live? I don't have the authority to answer such a question, really; I'm no god. Too bad, really. I was only ever me. Then again, I got to be me. Wonder what happens next?
|
You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
|
[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
|
I lay back in the hospital bed, looking up at the ceiling. Such medical precision, I smiled, a tribute to the triumphs of mankind. After months of intensive chemotherapy, surgery, excision, bandaging, scraping, incision, and cauterizing, the end is finally in sight!
What was I waiting for? I must clutch this sweet nectar of life with all the strength in the world! I pressed the ‘Nurse’ button on the table. Out of all life’s accomplishments, one had yet eluded my grasp.
With old and wrinkled hands, I turned on my dusty Gameboy one last time, humming the Pokémon theme song.
|
What is it to die? What is it to live? I don't have the authority to answer such a question, really; I'm no god. Too bad, really. I was only ever me. Then again, I got to be me. Wonder what happens next?
|
You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
|
[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
|
My screams are a protest, but unheard, unheeded. I've lived insided my mind for the last three years and it has become my Eden; paradise bottled up behind closed eyelids. I can hear, and think. It's a good life. But these well-intentioned murderers will end me, in less than twenty minutes, because they do not believe. I was not the driver, and I wasn't drunk. But it seems I will pay the price. My wife thinks it's a mercy to save me from an empty existence. The machines that sustain my body will be unplugged. I cannot forgive her now.
|
I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes. I rub my beard in thought. Ten lifetimes is enough, I remind myself. The others call me mad, but I'm tired and old enough to make my own decision.
I've written everything important enough for my daughters, life without me was inevitable.
The night is beautiful, it's protected me and I've called it my home. I've had my fill. I glance at my watch again. This is a hard decision. I chuckle. The sun peeks over the mountains. I ignite. Oh, god- this isn't pain, but liberation.
|
You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
|
[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
|
I lay back in the hospital bed, looking up at the ceiling. Such medical precision, I smiled, a tribute to the triumphs of mankind. After months of intensive chemotherapy, surgery, excision, bandaging, scraping, incision, and cauterizing, the end is finally in sight!
What was I waiting for? I must clutch this sweet nectar of life with all the strength in the world! I pressed the ‘Nurse’ button on the table. Out of all life’s accomplishments, one had yet eluded my grasp.
With old and wrinkled hands, I turned on my dusty Gameboy one last time, humming the Pokémon theme song.
|
I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes. I rub my beard in thought. Ten lifetimes is enough, I remind myself. The others call me mad, but I'm tired and old enough to make my own decision.
I've written everything important enough for my daughters, life without me was inevitable.
The night is beautiful, it's protected me and I've called it my home. I've had my fill. I glance at my watch again. This is a hard decision. I chuckle. The sun peeks over the mountains. I ignite. Oh, god- this isn't pain, but liberation.
|
You are told you have precisely twenty minutes left to live. You believe it to be true. How is it you know it to be true that you have twenty minutes left? Who told you? What do you do in those final twenty minutes?
To make this challenge difficult - you have only 100 words to express the story of your characters final twenty minutes. Feel free to answer all or none of the questions above.
|
[FF] You have twenty minutes left to live
|
I lay back in the hospital bed, looking up at the ceiling. Such medical precision, I smiled, a tribute to the triumphs of mankind. After months of intensive chemotherapy, surgery, excision, bandaging, scraping, incision, and cauterizing, the end is finally in sight!
What was I waiting for? I must clutch this sweet nectar of life with all the strength in the world! I pressed the ‘Nurse’ button on the table. Out of all life’s accomplishments, one had yet eluded my grasp.
With old and wrinkled hands, I turned on my dusty Gameboy one last time, humming the Pokémon theme song.
|
Six months in a tin can, seven billion in build and support costs, and what gets us is a damn rock. It was so unfathomably unlikely that we would hit anything en route to Mars that we didn't build in protection. When the basketball-sized rock tore through our tail section, we went into an irreversible, tumbling spin. Twenty minutes to impact.
We popped the front heat shield, and there, clear as day, was our destination, quickly growing, filling our viewport. Our crew of twelve knew we'd never leave Mars, but we had hoped to use shovels to dig our graves.
|
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